VIRGINIA'S STORYTELLERS

IN Richmond this week the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts will hang two new acquisitions (see color page) that not only rank high as art but also provide a study in similarity and contrast. Both tell stories, both deal with famed warriors; and yet in treatment and technique they stand as far apart as cool, clear crystal from the warmth of flamboyant stained glass.

One is Achilles on Skyros, a prime example of the later style of Nicolas Poussin, the master of the 17th century revival of classicism in France. Painted in 1656 for the French ambassador to the Vatican, it depicts the climactic moment in one of the liveliest of Greek legends. Young Achilles, dressed as a girl and hidden among the daughters of King Lycomedes of Skyros by his sea-goddess mother to escape his future fate at Troy, has just been tricked--by wily Ulysses--into revealing his identity. The painting shows the king's daughters reveling in necklaces, jeweled belts and earrings that have been brought for their approval, while Achilles chooses the weapons of war.

But for all the high drama a breathless hush pervades the air of Poussin's painting. The artist's delight was in the spacious landscape, towering Alban hills, the pleasant villa under blue skies and the rich glitter of jewels and armor. The painting keys perfectly to Poussin's own view of himself: "My natural disposition forces me to seek and cherish orderly things, avoiding confusion which is as contrary to my nature as is light to obscure gloom."

Eugene Delacroix, whose Amadis de Gaule hangs in the adjacent room in the Virginia Museum, made storm and strife the very center of his painting, and became the great painter of the 19th century Romantic movement. Choosing a scene from the popular 14th century Portuguese romance of chivalry, Delacroix depicted the Good Knight Amadis de Gaule (whose exploits took him from Britain to Constantinople) as he strides, plumes tossing, to greet the Princess Olga, after he and his companions have forced the castle of treacherous Galpen. Banners wave, steel clashes on steel, the air is loud with clamor, even the sky is turbulent.

Delacroix painted to inflame the soul and intoxicate the eye, and to those who failed to read his message, he said: "In many people the eye is untrue or inert; they see the objects literally: of the exquisite they see nothing."

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