principles which, though right as far as they go, yet do not reach

the object. No man, for instance, can deny that it seems at first

view very reasonable, that a statue which is to carry down to

posterity the resemblance of an individual should be dressed in the

fashion of the times, in the dress which he himself wore: this

would certainly be true if the dress were part of the man. But

after a time the dress is only an amusement for an antiquarian; and

if it obstructs the general design of the piece, it is to be

disregarded by the artist. Common sense must here give way to a

higher sense.

In the naked form, and in the disposition of the drapery, the

difference between one artist and another is principally seen. But

if he is compelled to the modern dress, the naked form is entirely

hid, and the drapery is already disposed by the skill of the

tailor. Were a Phidias to obey such absurd commands, he would

please no more than an ordinary sculptor; since, in the inferior

parts of every art, the learned and the ignorant are nearly upon a

level.

These were probably among the reasons that induced the sculptor of

that wonderful figure of Laocoon to exhibit him naked,

notwithstanding he was surprised in the act of sacrificing to

Apollo, and consequently ought to be shown in his sacerdotal

habits, if those greater reasons had not preponderated. Art is not

yet in so high estimation with us as to obtain so great a sacrifice

as the ancients made, especially the Grecians, who suffered

themselves to be represented naked, whether they were generals,

lawgivers, or kings.

Under this head of balancing and choosing the greater reason, or of

two evils taking the least, we may consider the conduct of Rubens

in the Luxembourg gallery, of mixing allegorical figures with

representations of real personages, which, though acknowledged to