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After surveying it all round critically, with many exclamations of surprise, he sent his servant to call his son Raphael. As soon as Raphael made his appearance West pointed to the figure and said: 'Look there, sir; I have always told you any painter can make a sculptor.
Nothing but a touch of affectation in the twined fingers of Raphael and Tobias impairs the beauty of one of Botticelli's best pictures at Turin. We feel the same discord looking at them as we do while reading the occasional concetti in Petrarch; and all the more in each case does the discord pain us because we know that it results from their specific quality carried to excess.
In mere grandeur of invention he was surpassed by Michael Angelo. Titian excelled him in coloring, and Correggio in the beautiful gradation of tone; but Raphael knew how to paint the soul; in this he stood alone. This was the great secret of a power which seemed to operate like magic.
"Not alone the more ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not alone the nobler forms of the horse and lion, not alone the exquisite and wonderful mechanism of the human body, but the human mind itself, emotion, intellect, will, and all their phenomena, were once latent in a fiery cloud... All our philosophy, all our poetry, all our science, and all our art, Plato, Shakespeare, Newton, and Raphael, are potential in the fires of the sun."
If you carry these feelings to the sister art of Painting, Michael Angelo's Sixtine Chapel, and the Scripture Gallery of Raphael can expect no favour from you. You know all about them beforehand; and are, doubtless, more familiar with the subjects of those paintings, than with the tragic tales of the historic or heroic ages.
Jameson says of him: "If Raphael be the Shakspeare, then Giorgione may be styled the Byron of painting." There is little that can be told of his life. He was devoted to his art, and passionately in love with a young girl, of whom he told one of his artist friends, Morto da Feltri.
At the request of his superior Fra Bartolommeo painted again, and when Raphael visited Florence, and came with all his conquering sweetness and graciousness to greet the monk in his cell, something of Il Frate's old love for his art, and delight in its exercise, returned.
The Virgin and child give no attention to these personages, but are absorbed in a book which is open on the Mother's knee. Raphael had no great liking for this style of picture, which was rather too formal for his taste. It is noticeable that, in the few instances where he painted it, he took the suggestion, as here, from some previous work. Thus his Madonna of St.
In the charge to Peter, “Feed my sheep,” Raphael has produced something quite at variance with his ordinary plan of construction. Christ occupies one side of the canvas, the disciples following along the foreplane toward him. Here is an isolated figure the equivalent of a group. The sleeping senator of Gerome’s picture effects a like purpose among the empty benches and pillars.
A little further on, I met the village priest, who had come to spend the evening with him. I bowed respectfully, and as he noted my swollen eyes, he returned my salute with an air of mournful sympathy. The next day I returned to the tower. Raphael had died during the night, and the village bell was already tolling for his burial.
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