human
as if it were a spot of dirt, and the personages portrayed received, one and all, an icy trait of
gpt
The various Egmonts, Wallensteins, and Charles the Firsts of Gallait and Bièfve, Delaroche, and Piloty have not the blood of human beings, they have not the scars which are made by fate, but are all alike in their Byronic turn of the head. One knows the so-called character-heads--Luther gazing upwards with the look of one strong in faith, Columbus discovering America, and Milton in whose head are seething all the thoughts which dying men are wont to have in their last moments,--one knows them as thoroughly by heart as one knows all the opened folios and overturned settles, the picturesquely draped tapestry reserved for tragic funereal service, and that little box, covered with brass and catching the flashing lights, which constitutes in Belgium, France, and Germany the iron casket of all historical pieces. In the place of the inward Shakespearian truth of the figures, peculiar to the old masters, is the outward truth of costume; and the historical
human
whose highest aim is to
gpt
the great moments of universal history in the prescribed manner, has stepped into the place of the artist. In the works of the old masters the historical figures stand out with sincerity as characters of flesh and blood, despite the want of
human
whilst in the moderns the costumes certainly are correct, but the figures are so much the less credible and vital.
gpt
Beautiful may be the folds of the garment, but more beautiful must be that which they contain.