e, and deadened gold, which in the best pictures of his second
manner--the Fortune, the Bacchus and Ariadne of S. Luke's in Rome, the
Crucifixion at Modena--has a charm akin to that of Metastasio's silvery
lyrics. The samson at Bologna rises above these works both in force of
conception and glow of color. The Aurora of the Rospigliosi Casino
attempts a wider scheme of hues, and is certainly, except for some lack
of refinement in the attendant Hours, a very noble composition. The S.
Michael of the Cappuccini is seductive by its rich bravura style; and
the large Pieta in the Bolognese Gallery impresses our mind by a
monumental sadness and sobriety of tone. The Massacre of the Innocents,
though one of Guido's most ambitious efforts, and though it displays an
ingenious adaptation of the Niobe to Raphael's mannerism, fails by
falling between two aims--the aim to secure dramatic effect, and the aim
to treat a terrible subject with harmonious repose.

[Footnote 225: Lo Spada and Guercino, afterwards to be mentioned, were
certainly colorists.]

Of Albani nothing need be said in detail. Most people knew his pictures
of the Four Elements, so neatly executed in a style adapting Flemish
smoothness of surface to Italian suavity of line. This sort of art
delighted the cardinals and Monsignori of the seventeenth century. But
it has nothing whatsoever to say to and human soul.

On Domenichino's two most famous pictures at Bologna Mr. Ruskin has
written one of his over-poweringly virulent invectives.[226] It is worth
inserting here at length. More passionate words could hardly be chosen
to express the disgust inspired in minds attuned to earlier Italian art
by these once worshiped paintings. Mr. Ruskin's obvious injustice,
intemperance, and ostentatious emphasis will serve to point the change
of opinion which has passed over England since Sir Joshua Reynolds
wrote. His denunciation of the badness of Domenichino's art, though
expressed with such a clangor of exaggeration, fairly represents the
feeling of modern students. 'The man,' he says, 'who painted the Madonna
del Rosario and Martyrdom of S. Agnes in the gallery of Bologna, is
palpably incapable of doing anything good, great, or right in any field,
way, or kind whatsoever.... This is no rash method of judgment, sweeping
and hasty as it may appear. From the weaknesses of an artist, or
failures, however numerous, we have no right to conjecture his total
inability; a time may come wh