Hair in waves and ringlets abounds upon his head, so pure and delicate
in design that it surpasses feminine beauty and gives the idea of a type
superior to all that man can dream of; his eyes are not turned towards
the group that he is pointing at, for he has no need to look in order to
see, and even if he did not have wings on his shoulders, we should not
be deceived regarding his nature. A divine indifference is depicted upon
his charming face, and almost a smile lurks in the corners of his lips.
He accomplishes the commission given him by the Eternal with an
impassible serenity.

Assuredly no virgin, no woman, ever had a more beautiful face; but the
most manly spirit and the most dominating intelligence shine in those
dark eyes, fixed vaguely upon the spectator who seeks to penetrate their
mystery.

We know how difficult it is to paint children. The scarcely settled
forms of the earliest age lend themselves awkwardly to art expression.
In the little Saint John of the _Madonna of the Rocks_, Leonardo da
Vinci has solved this problem with his accustomed superiority. The
drawn-up position of the child, who presents several portions of his
body foreshortened, is full of grace, a grace sought-for and rare, like
everything else that the sublime artist ever did, but natural,
nevertheless. It is impossible to find anything more finely modelled
than this head with its chubby dimpled cheeks, than those plump little
round arms, than the body crossed with rolls of fat, and those legs half
folded in the sod. The shadow advances towards the light by gradations
of infinite delicacy and gives an extraordinary relief to the figure.

Half enveloped in transparent gauze, the divine _Bambino_ kneels,
joining his hands as if he were already conscious of his mission and
understood the gesture which the little Saint John repeats after the
angel.

With regard to the colour, if in becoming smoked it has lost its proper
value, it has retained a harmony preferred by delicate minds for the
freshness and brilliancy of its shadows. The tones have deadened in such
perfect sympathy that the result is a kind of neutral, abstract, ideal,
and mysterious tint which clothes the forms like a celestial veil and
sets them apart from terrestrial realities.

_Guide de l'Amateur au Musee du Louvre_ (Paris, 1882).

FOOTNOTES:

[26] The National Gallery and the Louvre each claims that it possesses
the original of this celebrated picture and that