Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 12.djvu/213

 entered the following remarks in my note-book. In the Palace of the Tanari there is a famous picture by Guido,—the Virgin suckling the infant Saviour, of a size rather larger than life, the head as if a god had painted it. Indescribable is the expression with which she gazes upon the suckling infant. To me it seems a calm, profound resignation, as if she were nourishing, not the child of her joy and love, but a supposititious, heavenly changeling, and goes on suckling it because now she cannot do otherwise, although in deep humility she wonders how she ever came to do it. The rest of the canvas is filled up with a mass of drapery which connoisseurs highly prize. For my part, I know not what to make of it. The colours, too, are somewhat dim. The room and the day were none of the brightest.

Notwithstanding the confusion in which I find myself, I yet feel that experience, knowledge, and taste already come to my aid in these mazes. Thus I was greatly won by a Circumcision by Guercino, for I have begun to know and to understand the man. I can now pardon the intolerable subject, and delight in the masterly execution. Let him paint whatever can be thought of: everything will be praiseworthy, and as highly finished as if it were enamel.

And thus it happened with me, as with Balaam, the overruled prophet, who blessed where he thought to curse. And I fear this would be the case still oftener, were I to stay here much longer.

And then, again, if one happens to meet with a picture after Raphael, or what may with at least some probability be ascribed to him, one is soon perfectly cured, and in good temper again. I fell in yesterday with a St. Agatha, a rare picture, though not throughout in good keeping. The artist has given to her the mien of a young maiden full of health and self-possession, but yet without rusticity or coldness.