Is this feeling of a kind of revulsion, before so many of his pictures,
really justifiable? Is it, I ask myself, reasonable to complain, as I
was obliged to complain in Rome, that his women have no strangeness in
their beauty: that they do not brood over mysteries, like _Monna Lisa?_
Might it not be equally reasonable to complain of the calm, unthinking
faces of Greek statues, in which the very disturbance of thought--not of
emotion--is blotted out, as it might be among beings too divine for any
meaner energy than that of mere existence, "ideal spectators" of all
that moves and is restless?
II
Two men of genius, in our own generation, have revealed for all time the
always inexplicable magic of Leonardo da Vinci: Walter Pater in his
prose and Dante Gabriel Rossetti in his sonnet. It is impossible not to
quote this lyrical prose.
The presence that thus so strangely rose beside the waters is expressive
of what in the ways of a thousand years men had come to desire. Here is
the head upon which all "the ends of the world are come," and the
eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out from within upon
the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of strange thoughts and
fantastic reveries and exquisite passions. All the thoughts and
experience of the world have been etched and moulded there in that which
they have of power to refine and make expressive the outward form, the
animalism of peace, the lust of Rome, the reverie of the Middle Ages
with its spiritual ambition and imaginative loves, the return of the
Pagan world, the sins of the Borgias. She is older than the rocks among
which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many times, and
learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep seas, and
keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for strange webs with
Eastern merchants; and, as Leda, was the mother of Helen of Troy, and,
as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary; and all this has been to her but as
the sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only in the delicacy with which
it has moulded the changing lineaments and tinged the eyelids and the
hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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