DESCRIPTIONS BY CHAUCER AND DANTE.

"As a small vessel, backening out from land,
Her station quits; so thence the monster loosed,
And, when he felt himself at large, turn'd round
There, where the breast had been, his forked tail.
Thus, like an eel, outstretch'd at length he steer'd,
Gathering the air up with retractile claws.

. . Round me on each part

The air I view'd, and other object none

Save the fell beast. He, slowly sailing, wheels
His downward motion, unobserved of me,
But that the wind, arising to my face,
Breathes on me from below."

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In dramatic acting, motion is of course one of the main elements, but it is subject to the principles for artistical regulation, and its accordance with nature is ever of the utmost importance. Indeed, the real difficulty here is, not as in the case of the other arts, already alluded to, how actually to represent, but how duly to regulate motion; not merely how to imitate it, but how to cause it in its mode of operation to imitate the manner of nature which it aims to follow.

In compositions in architecture, costume, and gardening, it is impossible directly to describe or represent motion. In each of these arts motion is, however, capable of being suggested by the mode of carrying out the design. In addition to this it may be observed that, although buildings and trees, and other fixed objects, are incapable of motion, and so far may be considered as less effective in an artistical point than animate objects which continually change their situation, and thereby vary their appearance also; yet, on the other hand, a compensation to some extent is made for this deficiency by the opportunities which occur of seeing them from different positions, so that although they are in reality quite stationary, and never vary their aspect in the least, a new and a different view is afforded us of them at each turn; and as we ourselves shift our position, the very objects themselves seem to move, and to occupy fresh relative stations. Each of these objects changes also according to the various perspective distances at which they are viewed. This is the case with regard to sculptural as well as architectural objects. And it is equally applicable to

VOL. II.

D

rocks and mountains, and even to some extent to landscape scenery generally.

Indeed, the constant change of hues and tints, and light and shade, which takes place both in water and in landscape scenery, whether seas, or lakes, or mountains, or even plains, may be considered as closely allied to, and at all events analogous to motion as regards the alteration of the appearance of these objects, and is essentially productive of quite as much variety as motion itself. Consequently, a change, equivalent to motion, is effected in scenery, even in respect to the most solid and stationary bodies which compose it, by the alterations which constantly occur in the atmosphere, particularly as regards the clouds, by which these different objects not only greatly vary in their appearance at different times, as to their hues and dimensions, and according to their distance from us; but from being at certain periods in part obscured, and at other times brought into clear view, their motion, the alteration of their position as regards sight (the most important point in their relation to us), is as extensive as though real transmigrations of them occasionally occurred. In the case of certain mountains, the shifting of the clouds that hover about their peaks, which are constantly varying the scene, exposing and obscuring alternately different objects and points of view, together with the revolutions of the earth so as to affect their position in regard to the sun, accomplish really all that would be produced by a change of their situation. Occasionally, moreover, an apparent alteration takes place both of form and of colour, as may be witnessed upon the Italian lakes, clouds taking the appearance of mountains, and mountains seeming all at once to be transformed into clouds, while the tints on the surface of the lake itself assume various hues at different periods.

It is more particularly, however, with regard to architectural objects, especially when viewed at a distance, that all the effect is produced of their moving and changing their situation, both individual and relative, by the change of that of the person looking at them, who can thus cause them apparently to assume almost any position that he pleases, whereby they seem to be either near together or far apart, united or joined in one, ac

cording as he places himself to view them; so that drawings from them made from different points, would almost induce the supposition that these objects themselves occasionally changed their situation.

IV. Motion, so far as it has relation to artistical composition, is of various kinds. But of all the different kinds of motion, that which may strictly be termed vital action, is the most important, as the most nearly allied to nature, and the correct and truthful representation of which is the most difficult to be effected in artistical composition. Moreover, as many of the objects described by art are not only visible but animated; so the representation of them should not only be clear and vigorous, but itself endowed with life. This is mainly attainable in painting and sculpture by their attitudes and apparent motions, which denote them to be necessarily animated in order to effect such actions.

Action, like expression, should, moreover, be natural; it should be that of the street, where people walk unobserved, not that of the stage, where they are conscious of being watched, and constrain each motion accordingly.

A perfect imitation or representation of real animated nature, is, however, beyond the reach of pictorial art. The utmost that we can do is to seize upon some of her most striking characteristics, and transplant them to the canvas. Few persons have even the capacity to observe nature, and to see her as she really is; the blaze of glory which encompasses her face veils it from all vulgar gaze; and even of those who are permitted to view her, but a very small number are qualified to record what they see and feel. Nor are the elements of art, however availed of, fully adapted to this end. As we cannot imitate nature directly and simply, we have recourse to adventitious aids to supply by effect and vigour the animation and spirit possessed by the reality, which must necessarily be more or less wanting in the representation. This is especially the case in the arts of painting, sculpture, and poetry. In representations by painting, or descriptions by poetry or eloquence of some inanimate scene, the idea of it may be conveyed with considerable force and truth, inasmuch as vitality,

which is here wanting, is of all things the hardest to counterfeit, either in art or in reality, especially by inanimate means. And the more animated and active any scene is, the more difficult it is adequately to represent it in art. A verdant landscape, replete with vegetable life, is less easy to portray than a dead rock; and the working of passion and feeling in the human countenance, than an inanimate portrait. Indeed, in this kind of painting the skill of the artist is tested by the fact whether he endows it with life and action, or with the outward semblance only; whether he penetrates to the soul, or only reaches the surface; whether he depicts the mere features, or conveys to us the real image of the mind. As works of art are addressed not only to the senses but to the soul, so they should not merely represent living objects, but, like them, be endowed with animation; and not with form alone, but also with character and spirit. Poetry, eloquence, and music are in several respects fully adapted for the representation of vital action, more especially through the descriptions of it which they are capable of affording. Music, indeed, in many ways describes, and in a direct manner, vital action, both by representing the motions of living beings, and by imitating their cries. An illustration of this is afforded by Handel's oratorio of 'Israel in Egypt,' where the sounds produced by the motions of the frogs and flies is directly and very effectively imitated.

In acting alone, however, vital action as well as motion, is capable of being fully represented; and here, indeed, it exists in reality. Its defect is not that it is not real, but that it is not always true to nature.

Architecture and gardening are, of course, wholly inadapted in a direct manner alike for motion and for vital action. Indirectly, however, the former, if not the latter of these operations, is, to a certain extent, represented by these arts where fountains or running streams constitute a part of the composition. Costume represents vital action so far as it serves to afford to the frame which it covers the free opportunity for this exercise.

V. Where the action represented consists merely in the transient movement of a single figure, this may be considered to be independent in itself, and as having no direct or necessary

relation to the motion which has preceded it, or to that which is to follow. In most cases, however, where an important event is to be described, an effort is made to portray that particular period in the progress of the transaction which is not only the most striking and important, but which may be regarded as representative in itself of the entire proceeding, so far as serving to show its general character and tendency. The action present has in such a case direct relation to, and is absolutely dependent on that which has immediately passed, and on that which is immediately to succeed. It is imperfect in itself, and perfect only so far as it serves to perform its part in uniting the chain of the narrative.

Hence, what is here meant by continuous action, consists in the representation through the medium of art, of the actual and real vivid and active progress of a transaction, and that not only as regards the direct portrayal of the scene which is immediately occurring, but also as regards the indirect, though probably hardly less forcible and truthful representation of those stages of the event which have recently passed by, and those which are immediately to follow, and are inseparably connected with that which is now taking place. The aid of the reason, and to a certain extent of the imagination also, is called in here; but they are appealed to by inferences so obvious which are brought immediately before them and offered to their notice, that the process is performed without any difficulty; and, indeed, the operation of the mind is so impulsive that it appears to be almost spontaneous, if not irresistible.

Continuous action, indeed, is like the current of a river, which has relation to the stream both above and below, and is never stationary for a moment. Even what it possesses of present existence, is relative to and inseparable from the preceding and the future.

In compositions in painting, and upon the principles already deduced, the efficient representation of continuous action may be fully accomplished; and the examples in works of art of this kind cited in the present chapter, show the extent to which this has been done. Raphael's cartoon of the 'Sacrifice at Lystra,' affords a fine illustration of the principle before us, in the com