s on those gnome-like, distorted trees seemed to rustle
sibylline secrets in his ear. Those rugged and sombre Apennines, the
cataract that dashed between, suited, more than the actual scenes would
have done, the mood and temper of his mind. The stern, uncouth forms
at rest on the crags below, and dwarfed by the giant size of the Matter
that reigned around them, impressed him with the might of Nature and the
littleness of Man. As in genius of the more spiritual cast, the living
man, and the soul that lives in him, are studiously made the prominent
image; and the mere accessories of scene kept down, and cast back, as if
to show that the exile from paradise is yet the monarch of the outward
world,--so, in the landscapes of Salvator, the tree, the mountain,
the waterfall, become the principal, and man himself dwindles to the
accessory. The Matter seems to reign supreme, and its true lord to
creep beneath its stupendous shadow. Inert matter giving interest to
the immortal man, not the immortal man to the inert matter. A terrible
philosophy in art!

While something of these thoughts passed through the mind of the
painter, he felt his arm touched, and saw Nicot by his side.

"A great master," said Nicot, "but I do not love the school."

"I do not love, but I am awed by it. We love the beautiful and serene,
but we have a feeling as deep as love for the terrible and dark."

"True," said Nicot, thoughtfully. "And yet that feeling is only a
superstition. The nursery, with its tales of ghosts and goblins, is the
cradle of many of our impressions in the world. But art should not seek
to pander to our ignorance; art should represent only truths. I confess
that Raphael pleases me less, because I have no sympathy with his
subjects. His saints and virgins are to me only men and women."

"And from what source should painting, then, take its themes?"

"From history, without doubt," returned Nicot, pragmatically,--"those
great Roman actions which inspire men with sentiments of liberty and
valour, with the virtues of a republic. I wish the cartoons of Raphael
had illustrated the story of the Horatii; but it remains for France and
her Republic to give to posterity the new and the true school, which
could never have arisen in a country of priestcraft and delusion."

"And the saints and virgins of Raphael are to you only men and women?"
repeated Glyndon, going back to Nicot's candid confession in amaze, and
scarcely hearing the deduction