reveal。　　We　lingered　briefly　before　many　a　Raphael　and　Titian；　but　I
  saw　my　friend　was　impatient；　and　I　suffered　him　at　last　to　lead　me
  directly　to　the　goal　of　our　journeythe　most　tenderly　fair　of
  Raphael's　virgins；　the　Madonna　in　the　Chair。　　Of　all　the　fine
  pictures　of　the　world；　it　seemed　to　me　this　is　the　one　with　which
  criticism　has　least　to　do。　　None　betrays　less　effort；　less　of　the
  mechanism　of　success　and　of　the　irrepressible　discord　between
  conception　and　result；　which　shows　dimly　in　so　many　consummate　works。
  Graceful；　human；　near　to　our　sympathies　as　it　is；　it　has　nothing　of
  manner；　of　method；　nothing；　almost；　of　style；　it　blooms　there　in
  rounded　softness；　as　instinct　with　harmony　as　if　it　were　an　immediate
  exhalation　of　genius。　　The　figure　melts　away　the　spectator's　mind
  into　a　sort　of　passionate　tenderness　which　he　knows　not　whether　he
  has　given　to　heavenly　purity　or　to　earthly　charm。　　He　is　intoxicated
  with　the　fragrance　of　the　tenderest　blossom　of　maternity　that　ever
  bloomed　on　earth。
  〃That's　what　I　call　a　fine　picture；〃　said　my　companion；　after　we　had
  gazed　a　while　in　silence。　　〃I　have　a　right　to　say　so；　for　I　have
  copied　it　so　often　and　so　carefully　that　I　could　repeat　it　now　with
  my　eyes　shut。　　Other　works　are　of　Raphael：　　this　IS　Raphael　himself。
  Others　you　can　praise；　you　can　qualify；　you　can　measure；　explain；
  account　for：　　this　you　can　only　love　and　admire。　　I　don't　know　in
  what　seeming　he　walked　among　men　while　this　divine　mood　was　upon　him；
  but　after　it；　surely；　he　could　do　nothing　but　die；　this　world　had
  nothing　more　to　teach　him。　　Think　of　it　a　while；　my　friend；　and　you
  will　admit　that　I　am　not　raving。　　Think　of　his　seeing　that　spotless
  image；　not　for　a　moment；　for　a　day；　in　a　happy　dream；　or　a　restless
  fever…fit；　not　as　a　poet　in　a　five　minutes'　frenzytime　to　snatch
  his　phrase　and　scribble　his　immortal　stanza；　but　for　days　together；
  while　the　slow　labour　of　the　brush　went　on；　while　the　foul　vapours　of
  life　interposed；　and　the　fancy　ached　with　tension；　fixed；　radiant；
  distinct；　as　we　see　it　now！　　What　a　master；　certainly！　　But　ah！　what
  a　seer！〃
  〃Don't　you　imagine；〃　I　answered；　〃that　he　had　a　model；　and　that　some
  pretty　young　woman〃
  〃As　pretty　a　young　woman　as　you　please！　　It　doesn't　diminish　the
  miracle！　　He　took　his　hint；　of　course；　and　the　young　woman；　possibly；
  sat　smiling　before　his　canvas。　　But；　meanwhile；　the　painter's　idea
  had　taken　wings。　　No　lovely　human　outline　could　charm　it　to　vulgar
  fact。　　He　saw　the　fair　form　made　perfect；　he　rose　to　the　vision
  without　tremor；　without　effort　of　wing；　he　communed　with　it　face　to
  face；　and　resolved　into　finer　and　lovelier　truth　the　purity　which
  completes　it　as　the　fragrance　completes　the　rose。　　That's　what　they
  call　idealism；　the　word's　vastly　abused；　but　the　thing　is　good。　　It's
  my　own　creed；　at　any　rate。　　Lovely　Madonna；　model　at　once　and　muse；　I
  call　you　to　witness　that　I　too　am　an　idealist！〃
  〃An　idealist；　then；〃　I　said；　half　jocosely；　wishing　to　provoke　him　to
  further　utterance；　〃is　a　gentleman　who　says　to　Nature　in　the　person
  of　a　beautiful　girl；　'Go　to；　you　are　all　wrong！　　Your　fine　is　coarse；
  your　bright　is　dim；　your　grace　is　gaucherie。　　This　is　the　way　you
  should　have　done　it！'　　Is　not　the　chance　against　him？〃
  He　turned　upon　me　almost　angrily；　but　perceiving　the　genial　savour　of
  my　sarcasm；　he　smiled　gravely。　　〃Look　at　that　picture；〃　he　said；　〃and
  cease　your　irreverent　mockery！　　Idealism　is　THAT！　　There's　no
  explaining　it；　one　must　feel　the　flame！　　It　says　nothing　to　Nature；
  or　to　any　beautiful　girl；　that　they　will　not　both　forgive！　　It　says
  to　the　fair　woman；　'Accept　me　as　your　artist　friend；　lend　me　your
  beautiful　face；　trust　me；　help　me；　and　your　eyes　shall　be　half　my
  masterpiece！'　　No　one　so　loves　and　respects　the　rich　realities　of
  nature　as　the　artist　whose　imagination　caresses　and　flatters　them。
  He　knows　what　a　fact　may　hold　（whether　Raphael　knew；　you　may　judge　by
  his　portrait；　behind　us　there；　of　Tommaso　Inghirami）；　bad　his　fancy
  hovers　above　it；　as　Anal　hovered　above　the　sleeping　prince。　　There　is
  only　one　Raphael；　bad　an　artist　may　still　be　an　artist。　　As　I　said
  last　night；　the　days　of　illumination　are　gone；　visions　are　rare；　we
  have　to　look　long　to　see　them。　　But　in　meditation　we　may　still
  cultivate　the　ideal；　round　it；　smooth　it；　perfect　it。　　The　result
  the　result；〃　（here　his　voice　faltered　suddenly；　and　he　fixed　his　eyes
  for　a　moment　on　the　picture；　when　they　met　my　own　again　they　were
  full　of　tears）〃the　result　may　be　less　than　this；　but　still　it　may
  be　good；　it　may　be　GREAT！〃　he　cried　with　vehemence。　　〃It　may　hang
  somewhere；　in　after　years；　in　goodly　company；　and　keep　the　artist's
  memory　warm。　　Think　of　being　known　to　mankind　after　some　such　fashion
  as　this！　of　hanging　here　through　the　slow　centuries　in　the　gaze　of　an
  altered　world；　living　on　and　on　in　the　cunning　of　an　eye　and　hand
  that　are　part　of　the　dust　of　ages；　a　delight　and　a　law　to　remote
  generations；　making　beauty　a　force　and　purity　an　example！〃
  〃Heaven　forbid；〃　I　said；　smiling；　〃that　I　should　take　the　wind　out　of
  your　sails！　　But　doesn't　it　occur　to　you　that；　besides　being　strong
  in　his　genius；　Raphael　was　happy　in　a　certain　good　faith　of　which　we
  have　lost　the　trick？　　There　are　people；　I　know；　who　deny　that　his
  spotless　Madonnas　are　anything　more　than　pretty　blondes　of　that
  period　enhanced　by　the　Raphaelesque　touch；　which　they　declare　is　a
  profane　touch。　　Be　that　as　it　may；　people's　religious　and　aesthetic
  needs　went　arm　in　arm；　and　there　was；　as　I　may　say；　a　demand　for　the
  Blessed　Virgin；　visible　and　adorable；　which　must　have　given　firmness
  to　the　artist's　hand。　　I　am　afraid　there　is　no　demand　now。〃
  My　companion　seemed　painfully　puzzled；　he　shivered；　as　it　were；　in
  this　chilling　blast　of　scepticism。　　Then　shaking　his　head　with
  sublime　confidence〃There　is　always　a　demand！〃　he　cried；　〃that
  ineffable　type　is　one　of　the　eternal　needs　of　man's　heart；　but　pious
  souls　long　for　it　in　silence；　almost　in　shame。　　Let　it　appear；　and
  their　faith　grows　brave。　　How　SHOULD　it　appear　in　this　corrupt
  generation？　　It　cannot　be　made　to　order。　　It　could；　indeed；　when　the
  order　came；　trumpet…toned；　from　the　lips　of　the　Church　herself；　and
  was　addressed　to　genius　panting　with　inspiration。　　But　it　can　spring
  now　only　from　the　soil　of　passionate　labour　and　culture。　　Do　you
  really　fancy　that　while；　from　time　to　time；　a　man　of　complete
  artistic　vision　is　born　into　the　world；　that　image　can　perish？　　The
  man　who　paints　it　has　painted　everything。　　The　subject　admits　of
  every　perfectionform；　colour；　expression；　composition。　　It　can　be
  as　simple　as　you　please；　and　yet　as　rich；　as　broad　and　pure；　and　yet
  as　full　of　delicate　detail。　　Think　of　the　chance　for　flesh　in　the
  little　naked；　nestling　child；　irradiating　divinity；　of　the　chance　for
  drapery　in　the　chaste　and　ample　garment　of　the　mother！　think　of　the
  great　story　you　compress　into　that　simple　theme！　　Think；　above　all；
  of　the　mother's　face　and　its　ineffable　suggestiveness；　of　the　mingled
  burden　of　joy　and　trouble；　the　tenderness　turned　to　worship；　and　the
  worship　turned　to　far…seeing　pity！　　Then　look　at　it　all　in　perfect
  line　and　lovely　colour；　breathing　truth　and　beauty　and　mastery！〃
  〃Anch'　io　son　pittore！〃　I　cried。　　〃Unless　I　am　mistaken；　you　have　a
  masterpiece　on　the　stocks。　　If　you　put　all　that　in；　you　will　do　more
  than　Raphael　himself　did。　　Let　me　know　when　your　picture　is　finished；
  and　wherever　in　the　wide　world　I　may　be；　I　will　post　back　to　Florence
  and　pay　my　respects　tothe　MADONNA　OF　THE　FUTURE！〃
  He　blushed　vividly　and　gave　a　heavy　sigh；　half　of　protest；　half　of
  resignation。　　〃I　don't　often　mention　my　picture　by　name。　　I　detest
  this　modem　custom　of　premature　publicity。　　A　great　work　needs
  silence；　privacy；　mystery　even。　　And　then；　do　you　know；　people　are　so
  cruel；　so　frivolous；　so　unable　to　imagine　a　man's　wishing　to　paint　a
  Madonna　at　this　time　of　day；　that　I　have　been　laughed　atlaughed　at；
  sir！〃　and　his　blush　deepened　to　crimson。　　〃I　don't　know　what　has
  prompted　me　to　be　so　frank　and　trustful　with　you。　　You　look　as　if　you
  wouldn't　laugh　at　me。　　My　dear　young　man〃and　he　laid　his　hand　on　my
  arm〃I　am　worthy　of　respect。　　Whatever　my　talents　may　be；　I　am
  honest。　　There　is　nothing　grotesque　in　a　pure　ambition；　or　in　a　life
  devoted　to　it。〃
  There　was　something　so　sternly　sincere　in　his　look　and　tone　that
  further　questions　seemed　impertinent。　　I　had　repeated　opportunity　to
  ask　them；　however；　for　after　this　we　spent　much　time　together。　　Daily
  for　a　fortnight；　we　met　by　appointment；　to　see　the　sights。　　He　knew
  the　city　so　well；　he　had　strolled　and　lounged　so　often　through　its
  streets　and　churches　and　galleries；　he　was　so　deeply　versed　in　its
  greater　and　lesser　memories；　so　imbued　with　the　local　genius；　that　he
  was　an　altogether　ideal　valet　de　place；　and　I　was　glad　enough　to
  leave　my　Murray　at　home；　and　gather　facts　and　opinions　al