a picture that is good at
all looks very good in one of these old palaces.

The Italian painters whom I have learned most to appreciate, since
I came abroad, are Domenichino and Titian. Of others one may learn
something by copies and engravings: but not of these. The portraits
of Titian look upon me from the walls things new and strange. They are
portraits of men such as I have not known. In his picture, absurdly
called _Sacred and Profane Love_, in the Borghese Palace, one of the
figures has developed my powers of gazing to an extent unknown before.

Domenichino seems very unequal in his pictures; but when he is grand
and free, the energy of his genius perfectly satisfies. The frescos
of Caracci and his scholars in the Farnese Palace have been to me a
source of the purest pleasure, and I do not remember to have heard of
them. I loved Guercino much before I came here, but I have looked
too much at his pictures and begin to grow sick of them; he is a very
limited genius. Leonardo I cannot yet like at all, but I suppose the
pictures are good for some people to look at; they show a wonderful
deal of study and thought. That is not what I can best appreciate in
a work of art. I hate to see the marks of them. I want a simple
and direct expression of soul. For the rest, the ordinary cant of
connoisseur-ship on these matters seems in Italy even more detestable
than elsewhere.

I have not yet so sufficiently recovered from my pain at finding the
frescos of Raphael in such a state, as to be able to look at them,
happily. I had heard of their condition, but could not realize it.
However, I have gained nothing by seeing his pictures in oil, which
are well preserved. I find I had before the full impression of his
genius. Michel Angelo's frescos, in like manner, I seem to have
seen as far as I can. But it is not the same with the sculptures: my
thought had not risen to the height of the Moses. It is the only thing
in Europe, so far, which has entirely outgone my hopes. Michel Angelo
was my demigod before; but I find no offering worthy to cast at the
feet of his Moses. I like much, too, his Christ. It is a refreshing
contrast with all the other representations of the same subject.
I like it even as contrasted with Raphael's Christ of the
Transfiguration, or that of the cartoon of _Feed my Lambs_.

I have heard owls hoot in the Colosseum by moonlight, and they spoke
more to the purpose than I ever heard any other voice upon that