I knew Raphael's Loggias from copies in _l'École des Beaux Arts_ in
Paris. But I was curious to see how they would appear after this, and
so, although there was only three-quarters of an hour left of the time
allotted to me on my _permesso_, I went up to look at them. My first
impression, as I glanced down the corridor and perceived these small
ceiling pictures, barely two feet across, was: "Good gracious! This
will be a sorry enjoyment after Michael Angelo!" I looked at the first
painting, God creating the animals, and was quite affected: There goes
the good old man, saying paternally: "Come up from the earth, all of
you, you have no idea how nice it is up here." My next impression was:
"How childish!" But my last was: "What genius!" How charming the
picture of the Fall, and how lovely Eve! And what grandeur of style
despite the smallness of the space. A God a few inches high separates
light from darkness, but there is omnipotence in the movement of His
arm. Jacob sees the ladder to Heaven in his dream; and this ladder,
which altogether has six angels upon it, seems to reach from Earth to
Heaven, infinitely long and infinitely peopled; above, we see God the
Father, at an immense distance, spread His gigantic embrace (which
covers a space the length of two fingers). There was the favourite
picture of my childhood, Abraham prostrated before the Angels, even
more marvellous in the original than I had fancied it to myself,
although it is true that the effect of the picture is chiefly produced
by its beauty of line. And there was Lot, departing from Sodom with his
daughters, a picture great because of the perfect illusion of movement.
They go on and on, against the wind and storm, with Horror behind them
and Hope in front, at the back, to the right, the burning city, to the
left, a smiling landscape. How unique the landscapes on all these
pictures are, how marvellous, for instance, that in which Moses is
found on the Nile! This river, within the narrow limits of the picture,
looked like a huge stream, losing itself in the distance.
It was half-past five. My back was beginning to ache in the place which
had grown tender from lying so long; without a trace of fatigue I had
been looking uninterruptedly at pictures for four hours and a half.