kneeling on the clouds on either side. Nothing is visible of the earth,
but it is divined by the gestures and glances of the two saints, who are
pointing to the multitude for whom they are imploring the divine mercy.
Two angels are leaning on a kind of balustrade whose horizontal line
forms a solid plane at the base of the composition. Nothing could be
more elementary than the idea of such a picture; the ancient symmetry
and the most rigid parallelism are scrupulously observed. Raphael
becomes almost archaic, and, while returning to the simplicity of
primitive traditions, by the force of genius he confounds the scientific
exaggeration that is already so close to decadence. Doubtless he had
raised his eyes high every time he had taken antiquity as a model, but
he raised them much higher still by becoming exclusively Christian
again, and by comprehending that the humblest way is not only the
surest, but also the most sublime. Why is such simple means so highly
successful in exalting our feelings? Why is it, when looking at this
picture, we have moments of divine oblivion in which we fancy ourselves
in Heaven? That is what we must try to penetrate and comprehend.

[Illustration: THE SISTINE MADONNA.
_Raphael_.]

The principal figure of the picture is the Infant Jesus. He is no longer
the graceful _Bambino_ that we have so often seen in the arms of
Raphael's Madonnas, gentle and encouraging to the eyes of mankind, or
again he who, erewhile, in the _Virgin with the Fish_, leaned towards
the young Tobit; it is the God himself, it is the God of Justice and of
the Last Day. In the most humble state of our flesh, beneath the veil of
infancy, we see the terrifying splendour of infinite majesty in this
picture. The divine Infant leaves between himself and us a place for
fear, and in his presence we experience something of the fear of God