Harness will resist this senseless proposition.
I went with John in the afternoon to Angerstein's Gallery (M.
Angerstein's fine collection of pictures was not then incorporated
in the National Gallery, of which it subsequently became so
important a portion); there are some new pictures there. Unluckily,
we had only an hour to stay, but I brought away a great deal with
me for so short a time. Among the additions was a very singular old
painting, "The Holy Family," by one of the earliest masters, whose
name I forget, not being familiar with it. I looked long at the
glorious Titian, the "Bacchus and Ariadne," which always reminds me
of--
"Whence come ye, jolly Satyrs, whence come ye?
Like to a moving vintage down they came."
One of the most famous pictures here is "Our Saviour disputing with
the Doctors," by Leonardo da Vinci. I hardly ever receive pleasure
from his pictures; there is a mannerism in all that I have seen
that is positively disagreeable to me. How the later artists lost
the simple secret of earnest vigor of their predecessors, while
gaining in everything that was not that! Grace, finish, refinement,
accuracy of drawing, richness of coloring, all that merely tended
towards perfection and execution, while the simplicity and
single-heartedness of conception died away more and more.
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