large, and the pictures being in more presentable condition than usual, I
enjoyed them more than I generally do; particularly a Virgin and Child by
Vandyke, where two angels are singing and playing, one on a lute and the
other on a violin, to remind the holy infant of the strains he used to
hear in heaven. It is one of the few pictures that there is really any
pleasure in looking at. There were several paintings by Titian, mostly
of a voluptuous character, but not very charming; also two or more by
Guido, one of which, representing Fortune, is celebrated. They did not
impress me much, nor do I find myself strongly drawn towards Guido,
though there is no other painter who seems to achieve things so magically
and inscrutably as he sometimes does. Perhaps it requires a finer taste
than mine to appreciate him; and yet I do appreciate him so far as to see
that his Michael, for instance, is perfectly beautiful. . . . . In the
gallery, there are whole rows of portraits of members of the Academy of
St. Luke, most of whom, judging by their physiognomies, were very
commonplace people; a fact which makes itself visible in a portrait,
however much the painter may try to flatter his sitter. Several of the
pictures by Titian, Paul Veronese, and other artists, now exhibited in
the gallery, were formerly kept in a secret cabinet in the Capitol, being
considered of a too voluptuous character for the public eye. I did not
think them noticeably indecorous, as compared with a hundred other
pictures that are shown and looked at without scruple;--Calypso and her
nymphs, a knot of nude women by Titian, is perhaps as objectionable as
any. But even Titian's flesh-tints cannot keep, and have not kept their
warmth through all these centuries. The illusion and lifelikeness
effervesces and exhales out of a picture as it grows old; and we go on
talking of a charm that has forever vanished.

From St. Luke's we went to San Pietro in Vincoli, occupying a fine
position on or near the summit of the Esquiline mount. A little abortion