of the
Virgin, and his homage toward St. Domenic, the founder of his order, are
shown by their attendant figures.

It must be allowed that there could be no more daring or more difficult
undertaking in Art than to represent by any human medium this
transcendent manifestation of the superhuman character of the Redeemer.
It has been attempted but seldom, and of course, however reverent and
poetical the spirit in which the attempt has been made, it has proved,
in regard to the height of the theme, only a miserable failure. I should
observe, however, that the early artists hardly seem to have aimed at
anything beyond a mere _indication_ of an incident too important to be
wholly omitted. In all these examples the representation of a visible
fact has been predominant, the aim in the mind of the artist being to
comply with some established conventional or theological rule.

Only in one instance has the vision of heavenly beatitude been used to
convey the sublimest lesson to humanity, and thus the inevitable failure
has been redeemed nobly, or, we might rather say, converted into a
glorious success.

When Raphael, in the last year of his life, was commissioned by the
Cardinal de' Medici to paint an altar-piece for the Cathedral of
Narbonne, he selected for his subject the Transfiguration of our Lord.

[Illustration: THE TRANSFIGURATION.
_Raphael._]

Every one knows that this picture has a world-wide fame; it has, indeed,
been styled the "greatest picture in the world;" it has also been
criticised as if Raphael, the greatest artist who ever lived, had been
here unmindful of the rules of Art. But it is clear that of those who
have enthusiastically praised or daringly censured, few have interpreted
its real significance. Some have erred in ignorantly applying the rules
of Art where they were in no respect applicable. Others, not claiming to
know anything, or care anything about rules of Art, insisting on their
right to judge what is or is not intelligible to _them_, have given what
I must needs call very absurd opinions about what they do not
understand. It has been objected by one set of critics that there is a
want of unity, that the picture is divided in two, and that these two
parts not only do not harmonize, but "mutually hurt each other." Others
say that the spiritual beatitude above, and the contortions of the
afflicted boy below, present a shocking contrast. Others sneer at the
little hillock or platform whi