In his
studio we saw a picture of his mother, a most lovely and delicate
woman, dressed in white, like one of the saints in the Revelation.
Then we saw his celebrated picture, Francisca Rimini, representing a
cloudy, dark, infernal region, in which two hapless lovers are whirled
round and round in mazes of never-ending wrath and anguish. _His_
face is hid from view; his attitude expresses the extreme of despair.
But she clinging to his bosom - what words can tell the depths of love,
of an anguish, and of endurance unconquerable, written in her pale
sweet face! The picture smote to my heart like a dagger thrust; I felt
its mournful, exquisite beauty as a libel on my Father in heaven.
No. It is _not_ God who eternally pursues undying, patient love
with storms of vindictive wrath. Alas! well said Jesus, "O righteous
Father, the world hath not known thee." The day will come when it will
appear that in earth's history the sorrowing, invincible tenderness
has been all on his part and that the strange word, _long-suffering_,
means just what it says.
Nevertheless, the power and pathos of this picture cannot be too much
praised. The coloring is beautiful, and though it pained me so much, I
felt that it was one of the most striking works of art I had seen.
