In its essence, art is neither ancient or
modern, because it is incapable of progress, it is the expression of
an illimitable idea. We find before the Christian Era more beautiful
sculpture than after it. "Ah!" Victor Hugo says in his "William
Shakespeare," "You call yourself Dante, well! But that one calls
himself Homer. The beauty of art consists in not being susceptible of
improvement. A _chef d'oeuvre_ exists once and for ever. The first
Poet who arrives, arrives at the summit. From Pheidias to Rembrandt
there is no onward movement. A Savant may out-lustre a Savant, a Poet
never throws a Poet into the shade. Hippocrates is outrun, Archimides,
Paracelsus, Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, La Place, Pindar not;
Pheidias not. Pascal, the Savant, is out-run, Pascal, the Writer, not.
There is movement in art, but not progress. The Frescoes of the
Sistine Chapel are absolutely nothing to the Metopes of the Parthenon.
Retrace your steps as much as you like from the Palace of Versailles
to the Castle of Heidelberg. From the Castle of Heidelberg to the
Notre Dame of Paris. From the Notre Dame to the Alhambra. From the
Alhambra to St. Sophia. From St. Sophia to the Coliseum. From the
Coliseum to the Propyleans.
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