morning light cast over a face resplendent with
divinity; the flowers glittering with dew, the two disciples beyond,
still buried in slumber, at the time when the Saviour turns his eyes
upon them with that tender and sorrowful exclamation, "Could ye not
watch one hour?"

Raphael enriched the city of Florence with his works. When asked what
had suggested some of the beautiful combinations of his paintings, he
said, "They came to me in my sleep." At other times he called them
"visions;" and then again said they were the result of "una certa idea
che mi viene alla mente." It was this power of drawing from the deep
wells of his own mind that gave such character, originality, and
freshness to his works. He found that power _within_ which so many
seek, and seek in vain, _without_.

At the age of twenty-five Raphael was summoned by the pope to paint
the chambers of the Vatican. The famous frescos of the Vatican need
neither enumeration nor description; the world is their judge and
their eulogist.

No artist ever consecrated his works more by his affections than
Raphael. The same hallowed influence of the heart gave inexpressible
charm to Correggio's, afterward. One of Raphael's friends said to him,
in looking upon particular figures in his groups, "You have
transmitted to posterity your own likeness."

"See you nothing beyond that?" replied the artist.

"I see," said the critic, "the deep-blue eye, and the long, fair hair
parted on the forehead."

"Observe," said Raphael, "the feminine softness of expression, the
beautiful harmony of thought and feeling. When I take my pencil for
high and noble purposes, the spirit of my mother hovers over me. It is
her countenance, not my own, of which you trace the resemblance."

This expression is always observable in his Madonnas. His portraits of
the _Fornarina_ are widely different. Raphael, in his last and most
excellent style, united what was graceful and exquisite in Leonardo
with the sublime and noble manner of Michael Angelo. It is the
privilege and glory of genius to appropriate to itself whatever is
noble and true. The region of thought is thus made a common ground for
all, and one master mind becomes a reservoir for the present and
future times.

When Raphael was invited to Rome by Pope Julius II., Michael Angelo
was at the height of his glory; his character tended to inspire awe
rather than affection; he delighted in the majestic and the terrible.
In boldness of conc