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Title: Michelangelo - A Collection Of Fifteen Pictures And A Portrait Of The - Master, With Introduction And Interpretation
Author: Hurll, Estelle M. (Estelle May), 1863-1924
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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   _Uffizi Gallery, Florence_]

                       The Riverside Art Series


                     AND A PORTRAIT OF THE MASTER
                        WITH INTRODUCTION AND


                           ESTELLE M. HURLL

                          BOSTON AND NEW YORK
                     HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

                    The Riverside Press, Cambridge

              COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.


In making a collection of prints from the works of Michelangelo, it is
impossible to secure any wide variety, either in subject or method of
treatment. We are dealing here with a master whose import is always
serious, and whose artistic individuality is strongly impressed on all
his works, either in sculpture or painting. Our selections represent
his best work in both arts. These are arranged, not in chronological
order, but in a way which will lead the student from the subjects most
familiar and easily understood to those which are more abstract and

January, 1900.







NOTE: All the pictures with the exception of the Cupid were
made from photographs by Fratelli Alinari. The Cupid was photographed
from the statue in the South Kensington Museum, London.



Michelangelo's place in the world of art is altogether unique. His
supremacy is acknowledged by all, but is understood by a few only. In
the presence of his works none can stand unimpressed, yet few dare to
claim any intimate knowledge of his art. The quality so vividly
described in the Italian word _terribilità_ is his predominant trait.
He is one to awe rather than to attract, to overwhelm rather than to
delight. The spectator must needs exclaim with humility, "Such
knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto
it." Yet while Michelangelo can never be a popular artist in the
ordinary sense of the word, the powerful influence which he exercises
seems constantly increasing. Year by year there are more who, drawn by
the strange fascination of his genius, seek to read the meaning of his

His subjects are all profoundly serious in intention. Life was no
holiday to this strenuous spirit; it was a stern conflict with the
powers of darkness in which such heroes as David and Moses were
needed. Like the old Hebrew prophets, the artist poured out his soul
in a vehement protest against evil, and a stirring call to

Considered both as a sculptor and a painter, Michelangelo's one
vehicle of expression was the human body. His works are "form-poems,"
through which he uttered his message to mankind. As he writes in one
of his own sonnets,

    "Nor hath God deigned to show himself elsewhere
    More clearly than in human forms sublime."

In his art, says the critic Symonds, "a well-shaped hand, or throat,
or head, a neck superbly poised on an athletic chest, the sway of the
trunk above the hips, the starting of the muscles on the flank, the
tendons of the ankle, the outline of the shoulder when the arm is
raised, the backward bending of the loins, the curves of a woman's
breast, the contours of a body careless in repose or strained for
action, were all words pregnant with profoundest meaning, whereby fit
utterance might be given to thoughts that raise man near to God."

Learning his first lessons in art of the Greeks, he soon possessed
himself of the great principles of classic sculpture. Then he boldly
struck out his own path; his was a spirit to lead, not to follow. With
the subtle Greek sense of line and form, he united an entirely new
motif. In contrast to the ideal of repose which was the leading canon
of the Greeks, his chosen ideal was one of action. Moreover, he
invariably fixed upon some decisive moment in the action he had to
represent, a moment which suggests both the one preceding and the one
following, and which gives us the whole story in epitome. Thus in the
David we see preparation, aim, and action. It was a far cry from the
elegant calm of the Greek god to the restless energy of this rugged

Even with seated figures he followed the same principle. Moses and the
Duke Giuliano are ready to rise to their feet if need be. In his
frescoes we again find the same motif,--Adam rising to his feet in
obedience to the Creator's summons, and Christ the Judge sweeping
asunder the multitudes.

In his love of action and his passion for the human form lay the
elements of his art most easily lending themselves to exaggeration.
That the master did indeed permit himself to be carried beyond due
limits in these matters is seen by comparing the grandeur of the
Sistine ceiling with the mannerisms of the Last Judgment. The interval
between was "the time of his best technical and spiritual
creativeness," when he produced the statues of the Sacristy of S.

It was characteristic of Michelangelo's impetuous nature to spend his
enthusiasm upon the early stages of his work, and leave it unfinished.
This unfinished effect of many of his marbles seems to bring us in
closer touch with his methods as a sculptor. Nor is a rough surface
here and there inharmonious with the rugged character of his
conceptions. Moreover, as a critic[1] has pointed out, the polished
and rough portions enhance each other, giving a variety in the light
and shadow which is pictorial in effect.

[Footnote 1: See notes on the Life of Michelangelo Buonarotti in the
Blashfield-Hopkins edition of Vasari.]

To a man of Michelangelo's austere temperament, intensely masculine in
his predilections, the beauty of womanhood was not fully revealed. His
sibyls can scarcely be counted as women; they belong to a world of
their own, neither human nor divine. It was only in his few Madonnas
that we can trace his feminine ideal, an ideal noble and dignified,
rather than beautiful. The Madonna of the bas-relief is proud rather
than tender, the Virgin of the Pietà is grand rather than lovely.
These were works of his youth. Later in life, when he had known the
blessing of a good woman's friendship, he developed a new ideal in the
gentle and delicate womanhood of the Virgin of the Last Judgment.

Michelangelo has been compared to two great masters of dissimilar
arts, Milton and Beethoven. There are striking points of similarity
in the men themselves, in stern uprightness of character, in scorn of
the low and trivial, in lofty idealism. The art of all three is too
far above the common level to be popular; it requires too much
thinking to attract the superficial. In poetry, in music, and in
sculpture, all three utter the profoundest truths of human experience,
expressed in grand and solemn harmonies.


The original materials for the study of Michelangelo's life and work
are the two biographies by his contemporaries, Vasari and Condivi.
Vasari's was the first of these (1550), and like the other portions of
his "Lives of the Painters" contained many inaccuracies. It was to
correct these that Condivi published his little book a few years
later. This rival effort aroused Vasari's wrath, and after
Michelangelo's death he issued an enlarged edition of his own book,
unscrupulously incorporating all that was valuable in Condivi's work,
and adding thereto many reminiscences of the master's life. The fame
of Vasari's monumental work caused Condivi's little book to be
entirely forgotten for long years, and it has been one of the tasks of
modern scholarship to restore it to its true place. Even now, however,
there is no available form of Condivi's biography for American
readers, though Vasari's "Lives" in Mrs. Foster's translation is found
in most libraries. The latest edition of Vasari, published in 1897,
contains annotations by Mr. and Mrs. E.H. Blashfield, and A.A.
Hopkins, which correct all the statements in the light of recent

Far more valuable even than the early biographies is the mass of
existing documents of the Buonarotti family, including contracts,
letters, poems, and memoranda, and containing data for a full and
exact biography of the master. Unfortunately, however, this great
storehouse of material has been for all these centuries a sealed
treasure, given up only little by little, to successive generations of
scholars. When Hermann Grimm wrote his celebrated "Life of Michael
Angelo" (in 1860), the only original material accessible to him was
the collection of letters in the British Museum. His volumes are still
read with interest and profit, though it is to be regretted that they
should be reprinted without any editorial comments to connect formerly
received opinions with later conclusions. John S. Harford's "Life of
Michael Angelo Buonarotti" was published at about the same time as
Grimm's work, that is, in 1857. It was in two volumes, and contained
translations of many of Michelangelo's poems, as well as material
about Savonarola, Vittoria Colonna, and Raphael. The work is found in
the older libraries, and is well worth studying, as the latter portion
is still valuable for all that refers to the architecture of St.

Signor Gotti's "Vita," in 1875, was the first to profit to any
considerable degree by documentary researches. The conclusions of this
book are best known to the English-reading public through Charles
Heath Wilson's "Life and Works of Michelangelo Buonarotti" (1876 and
1881), consisting of compilations from Gotti, to which are added
original investigations of the Sistine frescoes, which are very

More privileged than any of his predecessors was John Addington
Symonds, who, by special favor of the Italian government, was allowed
to examine the Buonarotti collection in Florence, so long debarred to
others. His "Life of Michelangelo Buonarotti" is therefore unique in
being, as the sub-title announces, "based on studies in the archives
of the Buonarotti family at Florence." It was published in 1893 in two
large, finely illustrated volumes, and is taken as the latest
authoritative word on the subject, a word singularly independent of
others' conclusions, and influenced by an artistic and literary nature
of rare sensitiveness.

To those who wish briefer notices of Michelangelo's life and work than
any of these full biographies are recommended the chapters on
Michelangelo in Kugler's "Handbook of the Italian Schools," in Mrs.
Jameson's "Memoirs of the Italian Painters," in Frank Preston
Stearns's "Midsummer of Italian Art," in Mrs. Oliphant's "Makers of
Florence," and in Symonds's volume on "Fine Arts" in the series
"Renaissance in Italy."

To understand more fully the character of the man Michelangelo, the
student should read his sonnets. There is a complete collection
translated by J.A. Symonds, while both Wordsworth and Longfellow have
translated a few.

The life of Michelangelo has furnished material for two long poems by
American writers,--Longfellow's drama, and the poem by Stuart Sterne.
The former, which is annotated, is a well-balanced study of the great
artist's career and ideals.


_Portrait frontispiece._ An oil painting in The Hall of the Portraits
of Old Masters, Uffizi Gallery, Florence. The authorship of the
painting is not certainly known. Symonds says that "it may perhaps be
ascribed with some show of probability to Bugiardini." Bugiardini was a
friend of Michelangelo's youth and a fellow student in the gardens of
the Medici. That later in life he painted a portrait of his
distinguished friend we know from Vasari. Vasari tells us that the
portrait showed a peculiarity in the right eye, and this fact lends
probability to the identification of the Uffizi portrait with
Bugiardini's work.

1. _Madonna and Child_, an unfinished bas-relief medallion, made,
according to Vasari, during Michelangelo's residence in Florence in
1501-1505. It was made for Bartolommeo Pitti. It is now in the
National Museum (Bargello), Florence.

2. _David_, a statue made from a block of Carrara marble which had
been spoiled by an unskilled sculptor. After it had lain useless in
Florence for a century, a sculptor applied to the board of works of
the cathedral for permission to use it. The board consulted
Michelangelo and offered him the marble. He undertook to cut from it a
single figure which would exactly use the block. The contract to make
the statue of David was drawn up in 1501, and the statue was completed
in 1504. Forty men were employed four days to remove it from the
cathedral works to the Piazza della Signoria, where it was placed on
the platform of the palace (Palazzo Vecchio), remaining in the open
air more than three centuries. The weather was beginning to injure it,
and it was removed in 1873 to the Academy of Fine Arts in Florence,
where it now stands.

3. _Cupid._ Symonds gives the following account of the statue in the
"Life of Michelangelo," published in 1893: "Discovered some forty
years ago, hidden away in the cellars of the Gualfonda (Ruccellai)
Gardens, Florence, by Professor Milanesi and the famous Florentine
sculptor, Santarelli. On a cursory examination they both declared it
to be a genuine Michelangelo. The left arm was broken, the right hand
damaged, and the hair had never received the sculptor's final touches.
Santarelli restored the arm, and the Cupid passed by purchase into the
possession of the English nation." It is now in the Museum of South

4. _Moses_, a statue on the tomb commemorative of Julius II.,[2] in
the church of S. Pietro in Vincoli, Rome. At the beginning of
Michelangelo's connection with Julius II., he made plans for a
magnificent monumental tomb for this pope, to be ornamented with more
than forty statues and to be of great size (34-1/2 × 23 feet). The
fickleness of the Pope caused a continual series of disappointments in
the progress of the work, which was finally abandoned for the frescoes
of the Sistine Chapel. After the death of the Pope, his executors were
even less zealous for the completion of the tomb. A succession of
contracts were made and broken, each one reducing the size and
importance of the design. The artist was continually in demand for
other work. Finally, in 1542, to leave him free for the services of
the Pope, the completion of the tomb was put into other hands. The
statue of Moses, with those of Rachel and Leah, is all that
Michelangelo contributed to a work which had occupied his thoughts for
nearly forty years. The setting of the Moses is in every way
exceedingly unfavorable to a proper appreciation of the work.

[Footnote 2: The Pope, Julius II., is buried at St. Peter's.]

5. _Holy Family_, an oil painting belonging to the Florentine period
1501-1505, and painted for Angelo Doni. It is now in the Uffizi
Gallery, Florence.

6. _The Pietà_, a marble group executed by the order of the Cardinal
di San Dionigi according to a contract drawn up August 28, 1498. It
was placed in the old basilica of St. Peter's (Rome), in a chapel
dedicated to Our Lady of the Fever (Madonna della Febbre). In the
present church of St. Peter's it occupies a side chapel, to which it
gives its name, where it is placed so high that it is impossible to
see it well, and where its beauty is disfigured by the bronze cherubs
fastened above, holding a crown over the Virgin's head.

7. _Christ Triumphant_, a marble statue ordered by Bernardo Cencio (a
canon of St. Peter's), Mario Scappuci, and Metello Varj dei Porcari
for the church of S. Maria sopra Minerva, Rome, where it still stands.
The deed was executed in 1514, specifying that the statue should be of
marble, "life sized, naked, erect, with a cross in his arms." It
appears from Michelangelo's correspondence that the work was finished
by apprentices, first by Pietro Urbano, who did so badly that he was
discharged and replaced by Federigo Frizzi. It was completed in 1521,
when Michelangelo offered to make a new statue if it was not
satisfactory. Varj, however, declared that the sculptor had "already
made what could not be surpassed and was incomparable," so the statue
was placed in position.

8-12. _The Creation of Man, Jeremiah, Daniel, The Delphic Sibyl, the
Cumæan Sibyl_, frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Rome,
begun in 1508 at the order of the Pope Julius II. Michelangelo
undertook the work reluctantly, as sculpture was his chosen art. The
architect Bramante first made a scaffolding for the work, so clumsily
constructed that Michelangelo replaced it by one of his own invention.
Several Florentine painters were engaged as assistants, but, failing
to satisfy the painter, returned. Julius II. often visited the chapel
during the work, climbing to the scaffolding to see how it progressed.
Impatient to see it, he gave orders to have the ceiling uncovered when
but half finished. The first uncovering took place November 1, 1509.
The work was completed October, 1512.

13-14. _Lorenzo de' Medici_, _Tomb of Giuliano de' Medici_, marble
tombs first projected in 1520 or 1521, during the pontificate of Leo
X. (formerly Giovanni de' Medici). The order was renewed by Clement
VII., another Medici pope, in 1523. The work was carried on
intermittently a number of years during which occurred the revolution,
siege, and recapture of Florence. From 1530-1533 Michelangelo carried
them to the point of completion in which they are now seen: they were
never fully finished. The identity of the tombs was long a matter of
doubt. Though Vasari had called the helmeted figure Lorenzo and the
other Giuliano, there were critics, notably Grimm, who took the
opposite view. In 1875 the sarcophagus of the helmeted figure was
opened and evidence found proving it to be unquestionably the tomb of
Lorenzo, as Vasari had said. Both tombs remain as originally placed in
the new sacristy of the church of San Lorenzo, Florence.

15. _Central Figures of the Last Judgment_, a fresco painting on the
wall of the Sistine Chapel, executed by the order of the Pope Paul
III., who in 1535 appointed Michelangelo chief architect, sculptor,
and painter at the Vatican. The work occupied several years and was
completed in 1541.



The Madonna and Child and the Holy Family:--

     The Latin hymn, Mater Speciosa, by Jacobus de Benedictis,
     translated by Dr. Neale.


     Arthur Penrhyn Stanley. History of the Jewish Church, Part
     II. Lectures XXII.-XXV.: David.

     Robert Browning. Poem, Saul.

     Psalm Twenty-three.


     Richard Crashaw. Poem, Cupid's Cryer; out of the Greek.

     Edmund Gosse. Poem, Cupido Crucifixus.


     Arthur Penrhyn Stanley. History of the Jewish Church, Part
     I, Lectures V.-VIII.: Moses.

     Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney. The Open Mystery: A Reading of the
     Mosaic Story, Part IV.

     The Song of Moses: Deuteronomy, chapter xxxii.

     The Prayer of Moses: Psalm Ninety.

     Cecil Frances Alexander. Poem, The Burial of Moses.

     Sonnet on the statue of Moses by Giovanni Battista Felice
     Zappi, translated by J.A. Symonds (in Life of Michelangelo

The Pietà:--

     Latin hymn, Stabat Mater, by Jacobus de Benedictis,
     translated by Lord Lindsay, by General Dix or by Dr. Coles.

Christ Triumphant:--

     Henryk Sienkiewicz. Quo Vadis, chapter lxix.

Frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, general impressions:--

     Symonds. Renaissance in Italy, volume on the Fine Arts,
     chapter viii.: Life of Michael Angelo.

     Taine. Italy, book iii., chapter ix.: Michael Angelo.

     Andersen. The Improvisatore, chapter xii.: Allegri's
     Miserere, in the Sistine Chapel.

The Creation of Man:--

     Milton. Paradise Lost, book VIII., lines 500-528.


     Lucy Larcom. Poem, The Weeping Prophet.


     Sir Edwin Arnold. Poem, The Feast of Belshazzar.

The Delphic Sibyl:--

     Lord Houghton. Delphi, a poem included in Longfellow's
     collection of Poems of Places, volume on Greece.

The Cumæan Sibyl:--

     Virgil. Æneid, sixth book, translated by C.P. Cranch or by
     John Conington.

The Medicean Tombs, general impressions:--

     Symonds. The Renaissance in Italy, volume on the Fine Arts,
     chapter viii.: Life of Michael Angelo.

     Taine. Italy, book iii., chapter v.: The Florentine School
     of Art.

     Mrs. Oliphant. The Makers of Florence, chapter xv.: Michael

     Rogers. Italy: poem on Florence.

Lorenzo de' Medici:--

     Milton. Il Penseroso.

Tomb of Giuliano de' Medici:--

     Charles Algernon Swinburne. Poem, In San Lorenzo.

The Last Judgment:--

     The Latin hymn, Dies Irae, by Thomas de Celano, translated
     by General John E. Dix.

     Alexander Dumas. Les Trois Maitres: Description of Last
     Judgment, translated by Esther Singleton in the compilation
     Great Pictures described by Great Writers.

The portrait of Michelangelo:--

     C.P. Cranch. Michael Angelo Buonarotti, a poem read at a
     celebration of the 400th anniversary of his birth, included
     in Longfellow's collection of Poems of Places, volume on


(_Based on Symonds' Life of Michelangelo Buonarotti, to which the
accompanying notes on pages refer._)

1475. Born at Caprese, March 6 (p. 4).

1488. Apprenticed to Domenico and David Ghirlandajo, April 1 (p. 12).

1489-1492. Under the patronage of Lorenzo the Magnificent, in the Casa
     Medici (p. 23).

1494, 1495. In Bologna, work on the tomb of St. Dominick (pp. 47, 48).

1495. Return to Florence, the Sleeping Cupid (pp. 50-52).

1496-1498. In Rome:--
    The Bacchus (p. 58).
    The South Kensington Cupid (p. 62).
    The Pietà (p. 69).

1500. A second visit to Rome (p. 80).

1501-1505. In Florence (p. 87).

1504. Statue of David (p. 96) taken from workshop, May 14;
  arrived at Piazza Signoria, May 18;
  set in place, June 8.

Commissioned in August to prepare cartoons for decoration of Hall in
     Palazzo Vecchio, on wall opposite to that assigned to Leonardo
     da Vinci (p. 119).

1505. Arrival in Rome to work under patronage of the Pope
     Julius II. (p. 126).

Preparations begun for work on tomb of Julius and trip to Carrara to
     select marbles (p. 129).

1506. His angry flight from Rome (p. 155).

Visit in Florence and completion of competitive cartoon (Battle of Pisa)
     for Palazzo Vecchio (p. 161).

Reconciliation with the Pope at Bologna, November (p. 186).

1506-1508. Residence in Bologna, and statue of Julius II.
     (pp. 187 and 195).

1508. Return to Florence, March (p. 197).

Thence to Rome by order of Julius II. (p. 198).

Frescoes of the Sistine Chapel begun (p. 206).

1509. First uncovering of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, showing frescoes
     in the central space (pp. 209, 211).

1512. Sistine frescoes completed, October (p. 217).

1513. Death of Michelangelo's patron, Julius II., Feb. 21.

New contract for tomb, dated May 6 (p. 302).

1514. Contract for life size marble statue of Christ. Date of
     deed, June 14 (p. 305).

1516. Reduced plan for tomb of Julius II. (p. 320).

Visit to Carrara to quarry marble.

Suspension of work on tomb to make façade of church of S. Lorenzo
     (Florence) for Pope Leo X. (p. 323).

1518. Contract for façade of S. Lorenzo, Jan. 19 (p. 328).

1518, 1519. To and from Florence and Carrara for marble
     (pp. 331, 339, 341, 342).

1520. Façade of S. Lorenzo abandoned (p. 349).

1521. Work begun on tombs in sacristy of S. Lorenzo (p. 357).

Statue of Christ finished (pp. 306, 359).

Death of Michelangelo's patron, Leo X., Dec. 1.

1523. Fresh beginning of project of the Medicean tombs in sacristy of
     S. Lorenzo (p. 372).

1524. Vasari's apprenticeship with Michelangelo (p. 389).

1525. Work in Florence on Medicean tombs (p. 391).

1526. Work begun on Laurentian Library (p. 397).

1527, 1528. Uneventful years in Florence (p. 404).

1529. His services on the fortifications of S. Miniato, to defend
     Florence against the Medici (pp. 409, 412).

Flight from Florence to Venice, Sept. 21 (p. 416).

1530. Capitulation of Florence (p. 435).

Michelangelo in hiding (p. 437).

Resumption of work on Medicean tombs (p. 438).

1530-1533. Work on Medicean tombs (p. 447).

1532. New contract for tomb of Julius II. (p. 455).

1534. Death of Clement VII.

1535. Appointed chief architect, sculptor, and painter at the Vatican by
     Pope Paul III., Sept. 1 (vol. ii. p. 40).

1536-1537. Work on the Last Judgment (vol. ii. p. 43).

1538-1547. Friendship with Vittoria Colonna (vol. ii. pp. 93, 117, 125).

1541. Last Judgment shown to the public, Christmas day (vol. ii. p. 58).

1542. Work assigned by Paul III. for frescoes in the Paulien Chapel
     (vol. ii. p. 69).

Michelangelo's last contract for tomb of Julius II. (vol. ii.
     pp. 40, 69, 73).

1544. Illness (vol. ii. pp. 183, 187).

1546. Michelangelo succeeds Antonio da Gallo as architect-in-chief at
     St. Peter's (vol. ii. p. 213).

1552. Invitation of Duke Cosimo de' Medici to return to Florence
     declined (vol. ii. pp. 289-291).

1556. Excursion to Spoleto (vol. ii. p. 303).

1557. Model for cupola of St. Peter's (vol. ii. p. 232).

1564. Death in Rome, Feb. 17 (vol. ii. p. 320).



_Florentine Dukes_:--

Lorenzo de' Medici, 1469-1492.

Piero de' Medici succeeded Lorenzo 1492, expelled from Florence 1493.

Alessandro de' Medici, made first hereditary duke of Florence 1531,
     assassinated 1537.

Cosimo de' Medici succeeded Alessandro, 1537-1574.


Sixtus IV., 1471-1484.

Innocent VIII., 1484-1492.

Alexander VI., 1492-1503.

Pius III., 1503-1503.

Julius II., 1503-1513.

Leo X., 1513-1522.

Hadrian VI., 1522-1523.

Clement VII., 1523-1534.

Paul III., 1534-1550.

Marcellus II., 1550-1555.

Paul IV., 1555-1555.

Pius IV., 1555-1559.

Pius V., 1559-1566.


Boiardo, 1434-1494, poet (Orlando Innamorato).

Ariosto, 1474-1533, poet (Orlando Furioso).

Aretino (Venetian) 1492-1557, poet.

Francesco Berni, 1496-1535, burlesque poet.

Bandello, 1480-1562, _novelliero_.

Sannazaro, 1458-1530, poet (Arcadia).

Niccolo Machiavelli, 1469-1527, author of The Prince.

Gucciardini, 1483-1540, historian.

Tasso, 1544-1595, poet (Gerusalemme Liberata).

_Group centring about Lorenzo the Magnificent in Florence._

Cristoforo Landino, 1424-1504, tutor of Lorenzo, and professor of Latin

Bartolommeo Scala, 1430-1497, chancellor of Florence.

Luigi Pulci, 1431-1487, writer of burlesque epic Il Morgante Maggiore,
     and intimate friend of Lorenzo and Poliziano.

Marsilio Ficino, 1433-1499, president of Academy in 1463, translator of
     Plato and Plotinus.

Angelo Poliziano, 1454-1494, tutor of Lorenzo's children, and professor
     of Greek and Latin Literature in University of Florence.

Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, 1463-1494, published 900 theses at Rome in
     defence of Platonic mysticism.

_Group in Rome_:--

Pietro Bembo, 1470-1547, made cardinal in 1539, master of Latin style
     and also writer in Italian.

Jacopo Sadoleto, 1477-1547, made cardinal in 1536, writer of Latin verses,
     moral treatises, and commentary on Romans.

Egidio Canisio, 1470-1532, made cardinal in 1457, Latin orator and writer
     on philosophy, history, and theology.

Paolo Giovio, 1483-1552, bishop of Nocera 1528, historian and biographer.

Baldassare Castiglione, 1478-1529, diplomatist and scholar.

Gian Francesco Pico della Mirandola, 1470-1533, author of life of

Jerome Aleander, 1480-1542, made cardinal in 1536, librarian at Vatican.

Marcus Musurus, 1470-1517, lecturer in Gymnasium Caballini Montis.

Joannes Lascaris, 1445-1535, superintendent of Greek press established in
     Rome by Leo X.

Riario, Giulio de' Medici, Bibbiena, Petrucci, Farnese, Alidosi, Gonzaga,
     cardinals and patrons of literature.


Ghirlandajo, 1449-1495?                             Florentine
Verrocchio, 1435-1488                                   "
Leonardo da Vinci, 1452-1519                            "
Bartolommeo, 1475-1517                                  "
Francesco Granacci, 1477-1543 (friend of Michelangelo)  "
Giuliano Bugiardini, 1475-1554 (friend of Michelangelo) "
Raphael, 1483-1520                                      "
Andrea del Sarto, 1486-1531                             "
Sebastiano del Piombo, 1485-1547                        "
Giorgio Vasari, 1512-1574                               "
Giovanni Bellini, 1428-1516                         Venetian
Giorgione, 1477-1510                                    "
Titian, 1477-1576                                       "
Tintoretto, 1518-1594                                   "
Paolo Veronese, 1528-1588                               "
Perugino, 1446-1523                                 Umbrian
Bazzi, 1477-1549                                    Sienese
Baldassare Peruzzi, 1481-1536 (also architect)          "
Domenico Beccafumi, 1486-1551                           "
Mantegna, 1431-1506                                 Mantuan
Francia, 1450-1518                                  Bolognese
Correggio, 1494-1534                                Emilian


Savonarola, 1452-1498, prior of monastery of S. Marco, Florence,
     preacher, reformer, martyr.
Marc' Antonio, 1487-1539, engraver.
Bramante, 1444-1514, architect of St. Peter's.
Antonio da San Gallo, 1485-1546, architect of St. Peter's.
Christopher Columbus, 1436 or 1446-1506, discoverer.
Aldo Manuzio (Teobaldo Mannucci), 1450-1515, printer, established
     press at Venice 1490.
Vittoria Colonna, 1490-1547, poet.



About two thousand years ago a babe was born in the little
Judæan village of Bethlehem whose life was to change all history. His
name was Jesus, and every Christian country now takes his birth as a
standard from which to reckon time. When we speak of the year 1900, we
are counting the number of years that have passed since that event.[3]
To make this clear we sometimes add the initials A.D., standing for
the Latin words, Anno Domini, meaning in the year of our Lord. To go
still farther back we speak of an event as so many years B.C. or
Before Christ.

[Footnote 3: To be perfectly exact we must always add four years to a
date to get the full length of time passed since the birth of Christ,
as a mistake has been made in the calculation.]

The infant Jesus came to his mother Mary as a peculiar treasure.
Before his birth she had had a vision of an angel telling her that her
son was to reign over a great kingdom. She felt that there was a great
and solemn mystery in his life.

At the time he was born, Bethlehem happened to be crowded with people
who had come there to pay their taxes. When Mary and her husband
Joseph went to the inn, there was no room for them, and the baby was
laid in a manger used to feed cattle. This was a humble cradle for
one destined to be a king; but the mother did not think too much of
outward things. Her confidence in her son's greatness was not to be
shaken by trifles like this.

The new-born babe was soon sought out. First came some shepherds
asking to see him, because, while watching their sheep at night, they
had had a vision of angels telling them that a Saviour was born in
Bethlehem. Still stranger visitors were some wise men from the East,
who said they had seen a star which signified to them the birth of a
king. They brought the babe royal gifts of gold and frankincense and
myrrh, and returned on their way well pleased with the success of
their journey.

When the babe was about a month old he was carried up to the great
city of Jerusalem, where, according to the religious custom of the
Jews, he was to be offered or presented to the Lord, in the temple.
Here a saintly old man named Simeon took him in his arms, with some
strange words of prophecy of the salvation which this child was to
bring to the world.

All these things made a deep impression upon Mary, and she was a proud
and devoted mother. Day by day she watched her child grow "strong in
spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace of God was upon him." It is
said that

    "All mothers worship little feet,
    And kiss the very ground they've trod,"

and this mother had special cause for child worship.

[Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILD. _National Museum, Florence._]

The Italians always refer to the mother of Jesus as the Madonna,
which is the old Italian way of addressing a lady. This representation
of the Madonna and Child makes us understand better what the two were
to each other. The confiding way in which the boy leans against his
mother's knee shows the love between them. The mother looks like a
queen; on her well-poised head she wears a headdress something like a
crown. As the mother of a prince she bears her honors proudly.

On her lap is the book from which she has been reading. The child
seems dreaming of the wonderful words he has heard, as he rests his
cheek on his little hand, his elbow bent across the open page. A
thoughtful mood is upon them both, and there is something wistful in
the boy's attitude. The message they have read must indeed be a solemn
one. Perhaps it is something which recalls to the mother the promise
of the angel in foretelling the birth of Jesus. She thinks of the
great honors that are to be his, and also of the sacrifices by which
they must be won. The book may be open at the words of one of those
old Hebrew prophets who longed for the coming of the Redeemer. There
is a verse in the prophecy of Isaiah, which speaks of a child upon
whose shoulders the government shall rest.[4] The writer tells some of
the many names by which he shall be called, and we may imagine this
mother and child going over together these strange titles: "Wonderful,
Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of

[Footnote 4: Isaiah, chapter ix. verse 6.]

Our illustration is from a bas-relief by Michelangelo, and as we
examine it closely we discover that the sculptor's work was left
unfinished. The rough marks of the chisel are still seen on the
surface of the marble. A child's figure in the background is quite
indistinct. Probably it was intended for the boy St. John the Baptist,
the cousin of Jesus. The child Jesus himself is by no means completed;
his right arm is only faintly indicated.

As we shall learn from other examples of sculpture in this book,[5]
Michelangelo often neglected to carry his work to completion. He was
so possessed with his ideas that he could not work fast enough in
sketching them on the marble, but after this, it did not matter so
much to him about the finishing. He had done enough to show his

[Footnote 5: Note particularly the Cupid on page 15, and the tomb of
Giuliano de' Medici on page 81.]

There are reasons for liking such work all the better for being
unfinished. Some of the most delightful stories ever written, like
those of Hawthorne, leave something at the end still unexplained. The
reader's imagination is then free to go on forever exploring the
mystery, and inventing new situations. So in this bas-relief, the
great sculptor does not work out the details, but allows us to
exercise our own fancy upon them. He sketches his thought in a few
noble lines, and each may round out for himself the completed ideal.



Long ago in the country of Palestine lived a lad named David, who kept
his father's sheep. His free life out of doors made him strong and
manly beyond his years. The Israelites were at this time at war with
the Philistines, and David's quick wit and indomitable courage fitted
him to play an important part in the issue of the war.

The Philistine army contained a giant named Goliath, described as "six
cubits and a span" in height. That is over ten feet; but perhaps his
terrible appearance, in all his armor, made him taller than he really

One day this giant came out from his army and made a proposal to the
Israelites:[6] "Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me.
If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be your
servants: but if I prevail against him and kill him, then shall ye be
our servants, and serve us." Every day, morning and evening for forty
days, the Philistine stood forth and repeated his challenge, yet in
vain. Saul, the king, and all Israel, were "dismayed and greatly

[Footnote 6: 1 Samuel, chapter xvii. verses 8, 9.]

Now it happened that David's three elder brothers were in the
Israelite army, and one day their father sent him to them with a
present of some provisions. While the lad was talking with his
brothers, Goliath came out with his usual call of defiance. David
listened with wonder and indignation. "Who is this Philistine?" he
asked scornfully, "that he should defy the armies of the living God?"
The brothers were angry at what they thought foolish bravado on the
part of David; but there were others who reported his words to Saul,
who forthwith sent for the lad. Then David amazed the king by boldly
offering to go and fight with the Philistine.

"And Saul said to David, 'Thou art not able to go against this
Philistine to fight with him: for thou art but a youth, and he a man
of war from his youth.' And David said unto Saul, 'Thy servant kept
his father's sheep, and there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb
out of the flock: And I went out after him, and smote him, and
delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught
him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy servant slew both
the lion and the bear.... The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of
the lion, and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of
the hand of this Philistine.' And Saul said unto David, 'Go, and the
Lord be with thee.'

[Illustration: DAVID. _Academy of Fine Arts, Florence._]

"And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put an helmet of brass
upon his head; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And David girded
his sword upon his armour, and he assayed to go; for he had not
proved it. And David said unto Saul, 'I cannot go with these; for I
have not proved them.' And David put them off him. And he took his
staff in his hand and chose him five smooth stones out of the
brook,... and his sling was in his hand: and he drew near to the

"And when the Philistine looked about, and saw David, he disdained
him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and of a fair countenance....
And the Philistine said to David, 'Come to me, and I will give thy
flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.' Then
said David to the Philistine, 'Thou comest to me with a sword, and
with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the
Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite
thee, and take thine head from thee.' ...

"And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew
nigh to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet
the Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a
stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that
the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the
earth. So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a
stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword
in the hand of David. Therefore David ran, and stood upon the
Philistine, and took his sword, and drew it out of the sheath
thereof, and slew him, and cut off his head therewith. And when the
Philistines saw their champion was dead, they fled."[7]

[Footnote 7: 1 Samuel, chapter xvii. verses 33-51.]

This heroic adventure of David is the subject of Michelangelo's
statue. The shepherd, having thrown off the king's armor, advances
naked and unhampered, carrying only the sling flung across his back.
The large muscular hand hanging by his side holds the piece of wood on
which the sling is hung. It is the hand that wrenched the lamb from
the lion's mouth and then seized the king of beasts himself by the
beard. The left hand, poised on the shoulder, holds the centre of the
sling where it bulges with the pebble. The youth scans the enemy
keenly, marking the spot at which to aim. In another moment the pebble
will be speeding on its way. His air of confidence makes us sure of
the victory. Determination like this must win the day.

Critics of sculpture tells us that the statue of David must have been
studied from a model of the age which Michelangelo imagined as that of
the shepherd lad at this time. The figure is that of a growing youth,
and although it is therefore not so beautiful as a type of perfectly
developed manhood, it has a rugged strength which makes it one of the
sculptor's most interesting works.



In the mythology of ancient Greece there is no more popular figure
than the little god of love, Eros, more commonly known by the Latin
name Cupid. He was supposed to be the son of Venus, the goddess of
love and beauty, whom he attended. He was never without his bow and
quiver of arrows. Whoever was hit by one of his magic darts
straightway fell in love. The wound was at once a pain and a delight.
Some traditions say that he shot blindfolded,--his aim seemed often so
at random. Sometimes the one whom he wounded was apparently least
susceptible to love. Indeed, Cupid had the reputation of being rather
a mischievous fellow, fond of pranks.

One of these was at the expense of Apollo, the great sun god. Apollo
was himself a mighty archer, and had slain with his arrows the python
of Delphi. Proud of his victory, he mocked at the little god of love,
advising him to leave his arrows for the warlike, and content himself
with the torch of love. Cupid, vexed at the taunt, replied
threateningly, "Thine arrows may strike all things else, Apollo, but
mine shall strike thee." So saying he drew from his quiver two arrows,
one of gold, to excite love, and one of lead, to repel it. With the
golden one he shot Apollo through the heart, with the leaden he shot
the nymph Daphne. So Apollo became nearly mad with love for Daphne,
but the maid fled from him with horror. He pursued her, and when he
was close upon her, she turned into a laurel-tree.

Cupid continued to work havoc with his arrows. Even his mother Venus
could not escape their power. One day, when frolicking with her boy,
she was wounded by one of the darts, and before the wound healed she
saw and loved Adonis. When that youth was killed in a struggle with a
wild boar, she was inconsolable.

Another romantic tragedy for which Cupid was responsible was the love
between Hero and Leander. These two young people lived in towns on
opposite sides of the Hellespont. Leander was one day worshipping in
the temple of Venus, in Hero's town, Sestos, when he saw Hero, and was
at that moment shot by Cupid's arrow. His love was returned, and every
night he swam across the channel to see his lady love, until one night
a tempest arose, and he was drowned. The waves bore his body to the
shore, where Hero found him, and in her despair threw herself into the
sea and was also drowned.

[Illustration: CUPID. _South Kensington Museum, London._]

Such legends as these were dear to the hearts of the Greeks. Their
poets and artists were very fond of the subject of Cupid. Now
Michelangelo's early artistic training was under the influence of the
Greek culture. He was an inmate of the household of Lorenzo de'
Medici, who was an ardent lover of all that was beautiful in Greek
art and literature. At the table of the prince the youth must often
have heard the old Greek myths related, and in the gardens he saw
splendid Greek marbles. It was natural, then, that among his early
works in sculpture he should choose the subject of Cupid. His idea
was, however, his own, and was not at all such as a Greek would have
imagined. Classic art always represented the god of love as a merry
little winged boy, while in this statue he is seen as a well-grown
youth. His face is strong and masterful, instead of innocently gay.

He has dropped on one knee to take an arrow from the ground. In his
raised left hand he holds the bow, of which we see only a portion. His
left leg is bent in position to rise again. Like David, he has an
abundance of bushy hair crowning his handsome head; his straight brows
and set mouth show the same determination of character. He stands for
love which is determined to win, for love which conquers every
obstacle, for love which is unerring in aim. It is a much nobler
conception than the mere passing fancy of which the old myth speaks.
Michelangelo was one who believed that

           "Love betters what is best,
    Even here below, but more in heaven above."[8]

So he put into a pagan fancy a new and higher meaning.

[Footnote 8: one of Michelangelo's sonnets translated by Wordsworth.]

To understand fully the qualities of this work of art, one ought to
see it from many points of view, and study the lines. The long curve
of the right arm follows the curve of the right leg from hip to knee.
The bend of the left arm repeats the line made by the bend of the left
leg. The two extended arms together form a long line arching like the
curve of a bow.

From every standpoint all the lines are beautiful and harmonious. This
was the secret the Greeks had taught the young Italian sculptor. In
other respects he was entirely original. Cupid, like David, is in an
attitude of action. In another moment he will move. This was quite
different from the Greek sculpture, which always gives an impression
of repose.

     NOTE.--There is a difference of opinion among
     critics as to the subject of the statue at South Kensington.
     Heath Wilson considered it an Apollo. The writer has
     followed Symonds in calling it Cupid.

     The size of the statue may be calculated from the foot rule
     which lies across the pedestal in the picture.



In Michelangelo's statue of Moses the great Hebrew leader is
represented at the height of his career. He was a prophet, a poet, a
military commander, and a statesman. The story of his life will show
how all these qualities could be combined in one person.

At the time of his birth his people were in slavery to the Egyptians,
who cruelly oppressed them. Their numbers were increasing so rapidly
that it was feared they would soon outnumber their masters. So the
command went forth to drown every boy baby. Now the mother of Moses
had no mind to lose her boy, and "when she could not longer hide him,
she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and
with pitch, and she put the child therein and laid it in the flags by
the river's brink. And his sister stood afar off, to know what would
be done to him."[9]

[Footnote 9: Exodus, chapter ii. verses 3, 4, Revised Version.]

Then a strange thing happened. The princess came to the river with her
maids for a bath, and finding the babe, was touched by his cries. The
sister came up as if by chance, and asked if she should seek a Hebrew
nurse for the child, and when the princess said Yes, she went
straight for her mother.

So Moses was adopted by an Egyptian princess, yet he was nurtured in
infancy by his own mother. This explains why, with all the Egyptian
learning acquired at court, he had still the religious training of a
Jew, and when he grew to manhood he was full of sympathy for the
wrongs of his people. One day he saw an Egyptian smiting a Hebrew, and
in his wrath he slew the Egyptian on the spot. News of the deed came
to Pharaoh the king, and Moses fled into a place called Midian. Here
for forty years he lived a quiet pastoral life as a shepherd for
Jethro, whose daughter he had married.

Then came the divine call. He was alone with his sheep on the
mountain-side, when he heard a voice saying, "Come now and I will send
thee unto Pharaoh, that thou mayest bring forth my people the children
of Israel out of Egypt,... and I will bring you up out of the
affliction of Egypt unto the land of the Canaanites ... unto a land
flowing with milk and honey."[10] Thus Moses became the leader of his
people in their exodus, or departure from Egypt.

[Footnote 10: Exodus, chapter iii verses 10 and 17.]

[Illustration: MOSES. _Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli, Rome._]

After many strange experiences, the great company of emigrants made
the passage of the Red Sea in safety, and Moses showed his poetic
gifts in a song of triumph. Many years of slavery had taken the spirit
out of the Hebrews, and they needed a wise head and a firm hand to
govern them. Moses had both, and he was, besides, a man of God.
Going apart from them for a season of divine communion on the
mountain, he spent forty days in preparation for a system of
government. On his return he brought with him two tables of stone,
inscribed with the ten great commandments, which are at the foundation
of right character. He had also detailed directions for their daily
conduct, and for their religious ceremonial.

The people for whose good all these plans were made were in the mean
time discouraged by the long absence of their leader. They had no idea
how much he was doing for them, and in their folly they forgot his
teachings, and began to practise the idolatrous customs they had seen
in Egypt. On descending the mountain, Moses found them worshipping the
golden image of a calf. It is not to be wondered at that, as the
historian says,[11] "Moses' anger waxed hot, and he cast the tables out
of his hands, and brake them beneath the mount."

[Footnote 11: Exodus, chapter xxxii. verse 19.]

Again Moses went up into the mount for communion with God, and again
two tables of stone were inscribed with the ten commandments, to
replace those which had been destroyed. Again, also, he was gone forty
days, and this time he was given a mysterious revelation of the
goodness of God.

Thus it was that when he came down the people were afraid to come
near, for[12] "the skin of his face shone," or "put forth beams," as
the expression reads in some Bible translations. In the old Latin
version made by Jerome in the fifth century, and known as the Vulgate,
translated into what is now called the Douay Bible, we read that
"Moses' face was horned." This is why all the old artists, who were
guided by the Vulgate, represented Moses with horns. These horns
became, as it were, symbols of Moses' inspiration as a prophet.

[Footnote 12: Ibid., chapter xxxiv. verse 30. See Revised Version.]

Michelangelo followed the prevailing custom in using these curious
symbols. The long curling beard gives his hero the aspect of a poet.
The tables of stone show him to be a law-giver. But of all the
qualities of this many-sided man seen in the great statue, the most
conspicuous are his qualities of leadership,--the keen glance, the
commanding air, the alert attitude, the determined look. He seems
ready to spring to his feet if occasion demands. We see also something
of his faults, of the impulsive anger which slew the Egyptian, and
dashed in pieces the tables of stone, and of the arrogance which cost
him the privilege of entering Canaan.

He was not permitted to see his labors carried to completion, but on
the borders of Canaan "went up into the mountain of Nebo,... and died
there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And he
buried him in a valley ... over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth
of his sepulchre unto this day."



The pictures we have thus far studied in this collection are
reproductions of works of sculpture. This is the art which
Michelangelo loved best. He was, however, a painter also, and in the
later years of his life he was even drawn into architecture. Painting
was the first art he studied, but he soon laid it aside for sculpture,
and after that returned to it from time to time throughout his life.

This picture of the Holy Family is from an oil painting. It shows us a
glimpse of the home life of the child Jesus. We have already seen in
the bas-relief of the Madonna and Child how thoughtful a mood was
sometimes upon the mother and her boy. In this picture they are making
merry together. The mother, seated on the ground, tosses the boy with
her strong arms, for her husband Joseph to catch. She is a beautiful
woman, large, and full of life and vigor. The boy is a healthy, happy
child, with perfect confidence in his mother. He rests his fat little
hands on her head to steady himself.

Joseph, bald and gray, takes the play a little more seriously, as he
gently lifts the boy from the mother's arms. He has a special care for
the child. It was he who was warned by an angel in a dream that it
was dangerous to remain in Judæa. It was he who "took the young child
and his mother by night and departed into Egypt."[13] It was he again
who duly brought them back to their native country when the cruel king
was dead who had threatened the child's life. After the return from
Egypt Joseph and his family settled in the little town of Nazareth,
where he followed the trade of a carpenter.

[Footnote 13: Matthew, chapter ii. verses 13, 14.]

Now Jesus had a cousin, a boy who was not far from the same age. His
name was John, and his mission in life was closely connected with that
of Jesus. He was to grow up a great preacher, and finally to lead
people to Jesus himself. His parents knew before his birth, from an
angelic visitation, that he was to be a prophet. His mother Elizabeth,
and Mary the mother of Jesus, used to talk together, before their
children were born, of the strange future in store for them. We like
to think that the two boys grew up as companions and playmates.

It is this little boy John who is seen in the back of the picture, at
the right, coming up as if to join the child Jesus in his romp. We see
his eager little face, with the long hair blown back from it, just
above the coping stone surrounding the garden inclosure which the Holy
Family occupy. He carries over his left shoulder a slender reed cross,
such as is given him in all the old works of art as a symbol of his
prophetic character.

[Illustration: THE HOLY FAMILY. _Uffizi Gallery, Florence._]

You may say when you look at the picture that this is such a group
as you might see any day in some Tuscan village. The people are indeed
very plainly of the peasant class, and the artist did not go far out
of his way to find his figures. Perhaps he thought this was after all
the best way to show that the Holy Family was not unlike other
families in enjoying the simple pleasures of home life. We may feel a
closer sense of kinship with them on that account.

In studying the artistic qualities of this picture we have to remember
that Michelangelo was more of a sculptor than a painter, and that he
went to work upon a painting with the same methods he used in marble.
The central figures are grouped in a solid mass as if for a
bas-relief, as we may see by comparing this illustration with that of
the Madonna and Child. The mother's arms are so "modelled," to use a
critical term, that they seem to start out from the canvas "in the
round," just as if cut from marble. The folds of her dress, as well as
those of Joseph's garment, are arranged in the long beautiful lines
artists call "sculpturesque."

The sculptor's methods are also plainly seen in the peculiarity of his
background. In a picture of this kind most painters would have painted
there a landscape, but Michelangelo did nothing of the kind. Instead
there is a semicircular parapet upon which five slender unclothed
youths are playing together. Three sit upon the wall and two lean
against it.

The figures bear no relation to the story of the picture. They are
introduced merely for the sake of decoration. To Michelangelo there
was nothing so beautiful in decoration as the human form. The lines
made by different positions of the body trace patterns more beautiful,
he thought, than any arabesques. The Greeks had the same idea when
they decorated the pediments of their temples with bas-reliefs of nude
figures. Applying this principle of sculpture to his painting,
Michelangelo arranged these boys so that their slender limbs
intertwine in graceful patterns, making a decorative background to
fill in the picture. The lightness and delicacy of the design heighten
the effect of solidity in the figures of the foreground, giving them
the prominence of figures in relief.



In the busy years of Christ's ministry we do not read of his often
being with his mother Mary. He was going about the country preaching
and healing, and gave himself wholly to his mission. Yet we know that
the love between mother and son was constant and unchanging. From
beginning to end she always had confidence in his power, and his
tender care for her was among his last thoughts.

On the dreadful day of the Crucifixion, the mother was found standing
by the cross, with her sister and Mary Magdalene. "When Jesus
therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved
[that is, St. John], he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour
that disciple took her unto his own home."[14]

[Footnote 14: John, chapter xix. verses 26, 27.]

We can imagine the mother's anguish in seeing her son suffer this
cruel and ignominious death. He had lived only to do good, and now he
was dying an innocent sacrifice to his enemies. At such a moment the
mother might truly feel that a sword was piercing her soul, as the old
man Simeon[15] had once prophesied of her, many years before.

[Footnote 15: Luke, chapter ii. verse 35.]

    "Wearied was her heart with grieving,
    Worn her breast with sorrow heaving,
    Through her soul the sword had passed.

    "Ah! how sad and broken-hearted
    Was that blessed mother, parted
    From the God-begotten One!

    "How her loving heart did languish
    When she saw the mortal anguish
    Which o'erwhelmed her peerless Son."[16]

[Footnote 16: From _Stabat Mater_.]

Time passed, and Jesus now being dead, his friends were permitted by
the governor to remove him from the cross. Joseph of Arimathea took
the lead, as he was to lay the body in a new sepulchre recently made
in his garden. Nicodemus was also there, bringing linen and spices for
the burial, and the loving women lingered to see these preparations.

We can imagine how they might all stand aside to make room for the
mother Mary. Perhaps, indeed, they would withdraw a little way to
leave her for a moment alone with her son. The years seem to melt
away, and again she gathers him in her lap as when he was a babe. All
the motherly tenderness which she has had long pent up in her heart
now overflows. If she has sometimes felt a little lonely that in his
manhood he no longer needed her care, she forgets it now. He is still
her child.

The marble group by Michelangelo interprets such a moment for us. The
Italians call the subject the Pietà, which means compassion, but the
name scarcely expresses all the emotions of the mother. She seems
as strong and young as when she brooded over her babe in the Bethlehem
manger. "Purity enjoys eternal youth" was the sculptor's explanation
to those who objected.

[Illustration: THE PIETÀ _St. Peter's, Rome_]

Across her capacious, motherly lap lies the slender, youthful figure
of the dead Christ. The head falls back, and the limbs are relaxed in
death. Suffering has left no trace on his face. The nail prints in
hands and feet, and the scar in the side, are the only signs of his
crucifixion. The delicately moulded body is beautiful in repose.

The mother seems to find mysterious comfort in gazing upon her son.
Perhaps his death has opened her eyes to the meaning of his life. If
this is so, she cannot grieve. He has finished the work given him to
do, and death is the beginning of immortality. So sorrow gives place
to resignation. She is again the proud mother. The fond hopes with
which she watched his childhood have been more than fulfilled. She
extends her hand in a gesture which seems to say, "Behold and see."

It is said that certain Lombards, passing through the church where the
Pietà stood, ascribed the work to a Milanese sculptor named Cristoforo
Solari. Michelangelo, having overheard them, shut himself up in the
chapel, and chiselled his name upon the girdle which crosses the
Madonna's breast and supports her flowing garments. His name is not
found on any of his other works, and we can understand why he felt
proud of such a masterpiece. Though made when on the very threshold of
his career, it was never surpassed even in his later years. Some
other artist afterwards designed the two little bronze cherubs who
hold a crown over the Madonna's head. They are quite out of harmony
with the impressive dignity of the figures below.

Michelangelo's early love of Greek sculpture taught him many lessons,
which were worked out in this group. It has, first of all, that
perfect repose which was the leading trait in classic art. There is
nothing strained or violent in the positions. Besides this, the
figures are so arranged that on all sides, as in a Greek statue, the
lines are beautiful and harmonious.

But the subject itself is one which would have been too sad for the
pleasure-loving Greek. To the pagan the thought of death was something
to be avoided. Michelangelo's statue teaches the highest lesson of
religious faith,--the beauty of resigned sorrow and the sublimity of
sacrificing love.



(_Cristo Risorto_)

The character of Christ is so many-sided that when trying to fancy how
he looked while he lived in the world, everyone has probably a
different thought uppermost. The business man and the lawyer may
imagine the keen, searching glance which he turned upon those who
tried to entangle him with hard questions. A loving woman thinks
rather of the compassionate look with which he greeted the sisters of
Lazarus when they came to tell him that their brother was dead. The
physician may wonder how he looked when he spoke the commanding words
to those whom he healed.

Others dwell upon his sufferings as the Man of Sorrows, and often
think how sad he looked when he referred to the disciple who should
betray him. Lovers of nature like to imagine the look of pleasure on
his face in seeing the lilies growing in the field, or the expression
of eager inquiry with which he asked the fishermen what luck they had
had. Every boy and girl likes best to think of him smiling upon the
children, whom he called to him and took in his arms.

Now when an artist makes an ideal representation of Christ, he tries
to show us as many as possible of these elements of character combined
in one figure. So we may test the success of Michelangelo's statue of
Christ by searching out these various elements in it. We must also
know what incident the artist had in mind of which the work is an
illustration, so to speak.

The statue is called in Italian _Cristo Risorto_, that is, Christ
Risen or Triumphant, because the reference is to a circumstance not
recorded of his earthly career, but belonging to the time following
his resurrection. It is connected with a story told by St. Ambrose
about the apostle Peter. St. Peter, it is believed, spent the latter
part of his life in Rome, where the cruel emperor, Nero, was doing his
best to exterminate the Christians.

"After the burning of Rome, Nero threw upon the Christians the
accusation of having fired the city. This was the origin of the first
persecution, in which many perished by terrible and hitherto
unheard-of deaths. The Christian converts besought Peter not to expose
his life, which was dear and necessary to the well-being of all; and
at length he consented to depart from Rome. But as he fled along the
Appian Way, about two miles from the gates, he was met by a vision of
our Saviour, travelling towards the city. Struck with amazement, he
exclaimed, 'Lord! whither goest thou?' (_Domine, quo vadis?_) to which
the Saviour, looking upon him with a mild sadness, replied, 'I go to
Rome to be crucified a second time,' and vanished. Peter, taking
this for a sign that he was to submit himself to the sufferings
prepared for him, immediately turned back, and reëntered the city."[17]

[Footnote 17: From Mrs. Jameson's _Sacred and Legendary Art_, pages
200, 201.]

[Illustration: CHRIST TRIUMPHANT. _Church of S. Maria sopra Minerva,

It is this visionary figure of the Christ, appearing and disappearing
before the eyes of Peter, that Michelangelo represents in the statue.
He carries a cross not large enough for an actual crucifixion, as that
would be out of place here, but tall enough to show its real purpose.
He has also the long reed and the sponge which the soldier used to
give him a drink of vinegar and gall when he thirsted on the cross. A
bit of rope is a reminder of the scourging given him by the governor.

All these things he carries with him to Rome for a fresh martyrdom. It
is as if in walking along the way he suddenly meets Peter, and, at the
apostle's astonished question, he pauses, leaning a moment on the
cross, as he turns gently to reply.

Now as this is the Christ risen, or triumphant, the Christ who has
conquered death and the grave, Michelangelo wanted to do all he could
to make a noble-looking figure. The face is of the handsome type, with
regular features, which the Italians like to give to their ideal of
Christ. The expression of reproach is so gentle that one deserving
rebuke may well feel ashamed before it.

The sorrow in the face is such as Jesus might have shown as he turned
to Judas at the Last Supper. The gentleness in it is of the quality so
attractive to children. There is, too, something of the sympathetic
element in it which Mary and Martha found.

The countenance is not without intellectuality, though it scarcely
shows the keenness which the lawyers found it hard to outwit. It has
rather the refinement of a lover of all that is beautiful. Nor is
there much in expression or attitude to suggest the more commanding
qualities of Jesus. These stronger elements the statue seems to lack.

It is rather puzzling to one who is trying to form standards of taste
to learn that critics are divided in their opinion about this statue.
It is, therefore, well to know that Michelangelo is not wholly
responsible for the work as we now see it. Though he designed and
began it, he left it to some unskilful apprentices to finish. The
effect of the lines is injured by the bronze drapery which was added
later. A bronze sandal has also been put on the right foot to protect
it, as it had become much worn by kisses.

In criticising a statue one must always remember that it is best seen
in the surroundings for which it is designed. It is said, even by one
who does not greatly admire Michelangelo's Christ, that in the dim
light of the church where it stands, "it diffuses a grace and
sweetness which no reproduction renders."[18]

[Footnote 18: Symonds, in _Life of Michelangelo Buonarotti_.]



Science has long been trying to solve the problem of the origin of the
human race. Great books are published by learned men to explain how
the being called man came to be what he is. But centuries before the
beginnings of science a wonderful poem was written on the same subject
of the creation. This poem is called Genesis, that is, the Birth or
Origin of things, and it forms a part of the first book of our Bible.
Ever since it was written it has been one of the sacred books of many

This story of creation was once the favorite subject of artists. In
the period before the invention of printing, people depended for their
instruction upon pictures about as much as we now do upon books.
Painters sometimes covered the walls and ceiling of churches with
illustrations of the book of Genesis, transforming them into huge
picture-books, from which the worshippers could learn the Bible
stories which they were unable to read in books.

Michelangelo was one of the last Italian painters to do this, and he
profited by all the work that had been done before to make the
grandest series of Genesis illustrations ever produced. It is from
this series that our illustration is taken, representing the subject
of the Creation of Man. The painter did not try to follow the text
very literally. In the book of Genesis we read:[19]--

[Footnote 19: Genesis, chapter i verses 26-27; chapter ii verse 7.]

"And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and
let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of
the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every
creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he
him.... And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and
breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living

Michelangelo takes these words, and expresses, in his own way, the
supreme creative moment when "man became a living soul."

The man Adam lies on a jutting promontory of the newly made land.
Though his body is formed, he lacks as yet the inner force to use it;
he is not yet alive. The Creator is borne along on a swirling cloud of
cherubs, moving forward through space like a rushing mighty wind.
Perhaps the painter was thinking of the psalmist's beautiful
description of God's coming:[20] "He rode upon a cherub, and did fly:
yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind."

[Footnote 20: Psalm xviii, verse 10.]

[Illustration: THE CREATION OF MAN. _Sistine Chapel, Rome._]

In His fatherly face is expressed the good purpose to create a son "in
his own image." The cherubic host accompanying him are full of joy
and awe. We are reminded of that time of which the poet Milton
wrote,[21] when

    The multitude of angels, with a shout
    Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
    As from blest voices, uttering joy,--Heaven rung
    With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled
    The eternal regions."

[Footnote 21: _Paradise Lost_, book iii. lines 344-349.]

The sign of the Almighty's creative power is the outstretched arm
extended towards Adam with a superb gesture of command. As if in
answer to the divine summons, the lifeless figure begins to stir,
rising slowly to a sitting posture. The face turns towards the source
of life as the flower turns to the sun. The eyes are lifted to the
Creator's with a wistful yearning. It is the look we sometimes see in
the eyes of a woodland creature appealing for mercy. It is such a look
as might belong to that imaginary being of the Greek mythology, the
faun, half beast, half human. Thus Adam, still but half created,
begins to feel the thrill of life in his members, and is aroused to
action. He lifts his hand to meet the Creator's outstretched finger.
The current of life is established, the vital spark is communicated,
and in another moment Adam will rise in his full dignity as a human

This picture was painted long before there was any knowledge of
electricity, of electric sparks, and electric currents. Yet, if we did
not know otherwise, we might fancy that Michelangelo had some of
these wonderful ideas of modern science in mind, as the symbols of the
great thoughts he was trying to express.

The picture suggests to our latter day scientific imagination that
God's currents of power move as silently, as swiftly, as invisibly and
mysteriously as the currents of electricity. The painter meant to show
that the work of creation was not a mechanical effort of the Almighty,
but that with him a gesture, a word, even a thought, brings something
into being.

The series of which this picture forms a part is painted in fresco on
the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, in the Pope's palace of the
Vatican, Rome. To break up the monotony of the long plain surface he
had to decorate, the painter divided the strip of space in the centre
into nine compartments. These are separated from each other by a
painted architectural framework, so cunningly represented that it
seems to project from the ceiling like a solid structure of beams.

Our illustration shows a portion of the simulated framework which
incloses the picture. On what appears to be a pedestal at each corner
is a seated figure representing a statue. One is a beautiful youth
with a horn of plenty, and the other is a faun-like creature capering
gayly. The purpose of these figures is decorative, like those in the
background of the Holy Family.



Michelangelo's decoration of the Sistine Chapel ceiling did not stop
with the series of panels running along the flat space in the centre.
On either side, where the ceiling arches to meet the side walls, he
painted a row of figures, which seem to be seated in sculptured
niches. There are twelve of these figures in all, and seven of them
are Hebrew prophets.

The prophets were holy men of old, who walked with God, and carried
his messages among men. They were men of great courage and conviction,
fearlessly denouncing the sins of their times. Sometimes they were
great reformers, bringing about by their preaching an improved
condition of things. Often their mission was to arouse hope in
discouragement, to strengthen faith in a happier time to come. They
looked forward to a future day, when the Prince of Peace should reign
in the earth.

Jeremiah was a prophet of Judah during the corrupt and troublous times
in the reigns of Josiah, Jehoiakim, and Zedekiah. He has been compared
by a recent writer[22] to "a Puritan living in the age of the Stuarts,
to a Huguenot living in the age of the Medici, or a Savonarola living
in the age of Pope Alexander VI." He was born in Anathoth, a little
village of Judæa, and being the son of a priest was consecrated to the
priesthood from birth.

[Footnote 22: Lyman Abbott in _Hebrew Prophets and American Problems_.]

He was still very young when it was borne in upon him that to be loyal
to God he must stand forth and speak the truth more boldly than other
priests were doing. Shrinking from such a task, he besought God to
spare him. "Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child."

And this, writes Jeremiah, is the answer he received:[23] "Say not, I
am a child: for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and
whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their
faces: for I am with thee to deliver thee, saith the Lord. Then the
Lord put forth his hand, and touched my mouth. And the Lord said unto
me, Behold, I have put my words in thy mouth. See, I have this day set
thee over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root out, and to pull
down, and to destroy, and to throw down, to build, and to plant."

[Footnote 23: Jeremiah, chapter i. verses 6-10.]

Thus Jeremiah became a prophet, and from that time on his life was
"one long, hopeless protest against folly and crime." Earnestly he
besought his people to return to God before it was too late: "O
Jerusalem, wash thine heart from wickedness, that thou mayest be
saved;"[24] but prayers and threats were alike of no avail, and
misfortunes began to afflict the land. Then Jeremiah shows himself a
true patriot. Though his people refused to hear him, he still loves
them and pleads their cause. In the horror of famine, he prays to God
in their behalf.

[Footnote 24: Ibid., ch. iv. v. 14.]

[Illustration: JEREMIAH. _Sistine Chapel, Rome._]

There are times even in the midst of disappointment when Jeremiah has
some gleam of hope for the future. He predicts the days when "a King
shall reign and prosper, and shall execute judgment and justice in the
earth."[25] Such times he himself was never to enjoy. He lived to see
the Babylonian invasion, Jerusalem besieged and laid waste, and his
people taken captive. The reward of his faithful warnings was to be
cast into prison by the ungrateful King Zedekiah. Finally he was
carried by the remnant of his people into Egypt, where he died in a
sad and lonely old age.

[Footnote 25: Jeremiah, chapter xxiii. verse 5.]

Once in a moment of discouragement early in life, his grief had burst
forth in words which might well express the feelings of his old age:
"Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that
I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my

[Footnote 26: Jeremiah, chapter ix. verse 1.]

All the pathos of these words is conveyed in Michelangelo's wonderful
figure of Jeremiah. The story of his life is written in his face and
attitude. He is an old man, with long gray beard, but he still has the
splendid vigor which comes from plain and simple living. He sits with
bowed head, lost in thought, his long life passing in review before
his mind's eye. His message is spoken, his race is run; he is weary
of life and longs to die. There is something inexpressibly moving in
his profound melancholy.

The painter has placed just behind the prophet two little figures
which are like attendant spirits. They seem to sympathize with
Jeremiah's sorrows. The figures ornamenting the sculptured niche
remind us of those in the background of the Holy Family and have a
similar decorative purpose.

Those who have studied the history of the times in which Michelangelo
lived may find in this figure of Jeremiah an expression of the
artist's own character. Like the old Hebrew prophet, he lived in the
midst of a corruption which he was helpless to remedy, and which
saddened his inmost soul. His own life was full of disappointments. In
his lonely old age he wrote a sonnet, which is not unlike some of
Jeremiah's utterances, and which is a clue to the meaning of the

    "Borne to the utmost brink of life's dark sea,
    Too late thy joys I understand, O earth!
    How thou dost promise peace which cannot be,
    And that repose which ever dies at birth.
    The retrospect of life through many a day,
    Now to its close attained by Heaven's decree,
    Brings forth from memory, in sad array,
    Only old errors, fain forgot by me,--
    Errors which e'en, if long life's erring day,
    To soul destruction would have led my way.
    For this I know--the greatest bliss on high
    Belongs to him called earliest to die."



In striking contrast to the bowed and sorrowful old prophet Jeremiah
is the alert and eager youth Daniel. The two men were contemporaries,
though there was a difference in their ages. When, in the reign of
Jehoiakim, the Jews were taken into captivity to Babylon, the youth
Daniel went with them, while the old prophet Jeremiah was left behind.
Daniel was chosen, with three companions, to be educated at the court
of the Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar. They were taught the Chaldean
language and the sciences, and the king was delighted with their

An opportunity soon came for Daniel to be of service to his royal
patron. Nebuchadnezzar had a strange dream, which none of his
magicians could interpret, because, unfortunately, he had forgotten
it. In his anger that no one could supply the lost memory, he
commanded to destroy all the wise men of Babylon. But Daniel prayed to
God that the secret might be revealed to him.

His prayers were answered, and he related to the king not only just
what the dream was, but the full meaning of it:[27] "Thou, O king,
sawest, and behold a great image. This great image, whose brightness
was excellent, stood before thee; and the form thereof was terrible.
This image's head was of fine gold, his breast and his arms of silver,
his belly and his thighs of brass, his legs of iron, his feet part of
iron and part of clay. Thou sawest till that a stone was cut out
without hands, which smote the image upon his feet that were of iron
and clay, and brake them to pieces.... And the stone that smote the
image became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth."

[Footnote 27: Daniel, chapter ii. verses 31-35.]

In Daniel's interpretation the different portions of the image
represented the different kingdoms which should follow, one after
another, in the future. The stone which brake the image in pieces
referred to the final kingdom which the God of heaven shall set up,
"which shall never be destroyed," but which shall stand forever.

From this time forth Daniel became a seer. He had many wonderful
visions in the night, and interpreted them with reference to future
historical events. He was also a statesman, the king having made him
governor of the province as a reward for his services. In later years
he acted as viceroy at a time when the king was insane.

In the reign of Nebuchadnezzar's successor, Belshazzar, Daniel was
again called into service as a seer. One night, during a great feast,
a mysterious hand appeared to write some inscription on the wall, and
Daniel alone could interpret it. The message was ominous, but the
prophet spoke out boldly. "MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN,"
ran the words, "Thou art weighed in the balances and art found
wanting." Daniel condemned the king for his iniquities, and declared
that his kingdom should be divided by the Medes and Persians. That
very night Belshazzar was slain, and Darius, the Median, took the

[Illustration: DANIEL. _Sistine Chapel, Rome._]

Under the new dynasty Daniel was given so much power that some of the
officials, jealous of his preferment, plotted against him. They
contrived to persuade King Darius to sign a decree that "whosoever
should ask a petition of any god or man for thirty days, save of the
king himself, should be cast into the den of lions." The officials
were right in supposing that this would entrap Daniel into
law-breaking, for, faithful to his Hebrew training, he offered prayer
to God three times a day. He was therefore cast into the lions' den,
but no harm befell him, because, according to his own explanation, God
sent his angel to shut the lions' mouths.

Daniel continued to hold office even in the reign of the next king,
Cyrus the Persian. He lived to a great old age, but he was so young
when he first showed his prophetic gifts that it is natural to think
of him in his youth as Michelangelo has represented him. It would seem
that the artist had in mind Daniel's early years of education at
court. On his lap is a large open book supported on the back of a tiny
figure standing between his knees. This may represent a volume of
Chaldean learning. His posture shows that he has been consulting the
volume, and now turns to his writing tablets to record his own

His broad forehead shows him to be a student and a thinker. The waving
hair is brushed back to form an aureole about his face. It is the face
of a dreamer in a moment of inspiration. Eagerly he writes his words
of mingled poetry and prophecy. He is full of youthful enthusiasm for
his work, a nature fitted for action as well as for vision. He has
also the spirited bearing of one who fears neither the rage of a lion
nor the wrath of a king. There is a breezy energy in his motions, as
if thoughts came more swiftly than he could transcribe them.

His expression of happy anticipation is in vivid contrast to
Jeremiah's sorrowful attitude of retrospection. The picture brings out
clearly the fact that the keynote of Daniel's prophecy is hope.
Looking into his rapt face, we may imagine that this is the message he
is writing: "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the
firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars
forever and ever."[28]

[Footnote 28: Daniel, chapter xii. verse 3.]



In the rows of figures which Michelangelo painted along the arched
portion of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the prophets are
associated with sibyls. Hence, in the plan of decoration, there comes
first the figure of a man, and then the figure of a woman.

Now, as the Bible contains no allusion to sibyls, it may seem strange
that they should have a place in a series of Bible illustrations, and
especially that they should appear side by side with the prophets. To
explain this, we must learn something about the sibyls.

They were women of ancient times supposed to have supernatural gifts
of foretelling the future. They devoted themselves to solitude and
meditation, and sometimes lived apart in caves or grottoes. Sometimes
they were connected with temples, and delivered what were supposed to
be the messages of the gods to the worshippers. These messages were
called oracles, and were greatly revered by the people who consulted
the gods.

Some of the sibyls' words of wisdom were committed to writing and
passed down to following generations. Though they lived in heathen
countries, the tradition ran that they prophesied the advent of
Christ. There is a passage in one of Virgil's eclogues (the fourth)
upon which the supposition is based. Early in the Christian era, when
men were spreading the new faith, they made much of these sibylline
prophecies to add weight to their teachings.

In former times, fact and fable were very often confused, and people
did not take pains to distinguish the legends of the sibyls from the
history of the prophets. When the Latin hymn "Dies Irae" was written,
the sibyl was mentioned, with the prophet, as predicting the final
destruction of the world. Many painters and sculptors gave the two
equal honor in the same way. In the prevailing opinion, the sibyls
shared with the prophets an inspired foreknowledge of the Christian

The nine main panels of Michelangelo's ceiling decoration show how man
was created, and how he was tempted and fell into sin. To carry on
still further the story of the human race, the painter shows the
succession of men and women, prophets and sibyls, who, one after
another, predicted the redemption of the world in Christ. On the side
walls, below these figures, the story is carried to completion in a
series of pictures illustrating the life of Christ. The last named
frescoes were painted by various artists some years before
Michelangelo's work on the ceiling.

The number of sibyls was given as ten or twelve, and of these
Michelangelo selected five. His idea here, as with the prophets,
seemed to be to represent some in old age and some in youth.

[Illustration: THE DELPHIC SIBYL. _Sistine Chapel, Rome._]

The Delphic sibyl is the youngest and most beautiful of them all. She
presided over the temple of Apollo in the Greek town of Delphi, where
it was long customary for the priestess, or _pythia_, as she was
called, to be a young woman selected from some family of poor country

The temple at Delphi was one of great celebrity. In the centre was a
small opening in the ground, whence arose an intoxicating vapor, and
over this sat the pythia, on a three-legged seat, or tripod, and
delivered the oracle communicated to her by the god. These oracles
were delivered in verse.

The Delphic sibyl, or pythia, of Michelangelo's picture, has the
splendid stature of an Amazon. Her head is draped with a sort of Greek
turban, beneath which her hair escapes in flying curls. Her face and
expression show her at once to be unlike an ordinary woman. She has
the look of a startled fawn, which has suddenly heard the call of a
distant voice. She turns her head in the attitude of one listening.
She looks far away with eyes that see visions, but what those visions
are none can guess. There are other pictures of the same sibyl
carrying a crown of thorns, showing that she predicted the sufferings
of Christ. Perhaps this is the meaning of the sorrowful expression in
these wide eyes.

The scroll which she unrolls in her left hand is the scroll of her
prophecy. The two little figures holding a book, just behind her right
shoulder, are genii, or spirits, symbolic of her inspiration. One
reads eagerly from the volume while the other listens with rapt

The picture makes a very interesting study in the composition of
lines. Starting from the topmost point of the turban, draw a line on
the right, coming across the shoulder along the outer edge of the
drapery to the toe. On the left, let the line connecting the same two
points follow the outer curve of the scroll, along the slanting edge
of the mantle, and we get a beautiful pointed oval as the basis of the

The sibyl's left arm drops a curve across the upper part of the
figure, and this curve is repeated a little lower down by the creases
in the drapery across the lap. Such are the few strong, simple lines
which compose the picture, producing an effect of grandeur which a
confusion of many lines would entirely spoil.



Of all the sibyls, the one we hear most about is the Cumæan. The
legend runs that, having asked a boon of Apollo, she gathered a
handful of sand and said, "Grant me to see as many birthdays as there
are sand grains in my hand." The wish was gratified, but unluckily she
forgot to ask for enduring youth, so she was doomed to live a thousand
years in a withered old age. Thus we always think of her as an old
woman, as Michelangelo has represented her.

She is called the Cumæan sibyl because she is supposed to have lived
in Cumæ, which was the oldest and one of the most important of the
Greek colonies in Italy. Her real name, we are told, was Demos. She
lived in a great cavern, where the people came to consult her, and her
answers to their questions were regarded as oracles, or answers from
the deities. She used to write on the leaves of trees the names and
fates of different persons, arranging them in her cave to be read by
her votaries. Sometimes the wind sweeping through the cavern scattered
the leaves broadcast through the world.

The manner of consulting her is fully described by the Latin poet
Virgil in the sixth book of the Æneid. He tells how Æneas, arriving
with his fellow voyagers at the town of Cumæ, immediately goes to the
temple of Apollo,

    "And seeks the cave of wondrous size,
    The sibyl's dread retreat,
    The sibyl, whom the Delian seer
    Inspires to see the future clear,
    And fills with frenzy's heat;
    The grove they enter, and behold
    Above their heads the roof of gold.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Within the mountain's hollow side,
    A cavern stretches high and wide;
    A hundred entries thither lead;
    A hundred voices thence proceed,
    Each uttering forth the sibyl's rede.
    The sacred threshold now they trod:
    'Pray for an answer! pray! the god,'
    She cries, 'the god is nigh!'

    "And as before the door in view
    She stands, her visage pales its hue,
    Her locks dishevelled fly,
    Her breath comes thick, her wild heart glows.
    Dilating as the madness grows,
    Her form looks larger to the eye;
    Unearthly peals her deep-toned cry,
    As, breathing nearer and more near,
    The god comes rushing on his seer."

Æneas now begs a favor of the sibyl. He has heard that here the path
leads downward to the dead, and he desires to go thither to visit his
father, Anchises. There are certain conditions to fulfil before
setting forth, but when these are done the sibyl guides him on his
way, and the journey is safely made.

[Illustration: THE CUMÆAN SIBYL. _Sistine Chapel, Rome._]

Another legend of the Cumæan sibyl has to do with the Roman emperor
Tarquin. The sibyl came to him one day with nine books of oracles,
which she wished him to buy. The price was exorbitant, and the emperor
refused her demand. She then went away, burned three of the books,
and, returning with the remaining six, made the same demand. Again her
offer was refused, and again she burned three books and returned,
still requiring the original price for the three that were left.
Tarquin now consulted the soothsayers, and, acting upon their advice,
bought the books, which were found to contain directions concerning
the religion and policy of Rome.

For many years they were held sacred, and were carefully preserved in
the temple of Jupiter in the Capitol, under the care of official
guardians. At length the temple was destroyed by fire, and the
original sibylline books perished. In the following centuries they
were replaced by scattered papers, collected from time to time in
various parts of the empire, purporting to be the writings of the
sibyl. These sibylline leaves, as they were called, contained passages
supposed to be prophetic of the coming of Christ, and this is why the
Cumæan sibyl is placed by Michelangelo among the prophets.

The sibyl is reading aloud from one of her books of oracles. The two
little genii standing behind her shoulder, and listening with absorbed
attention, hold another book, not yet unclasped, ready for her. She
reads her prophecy with keen, searching eyes, and a manner that is
almost stern. We can see in the large, strong features the
determination of her character.

It is not a gentle face, and not pleasing, but it is full of meaning.
We read there the record of the centuries which have passed over her
head, bringing her the deep secrets of life. Yet the prophecies are
still unfulfilled, and there is a look of unsatisfied longing in her
wrinkled old face.

You will notice that the outlines of the Cumæan sibyl are drawn in an
oval figure similar to that inclosing the Delphic sibyl. Here,
however, the oval is of a more elongated form, and the left side is
broken midway by the introduction of the book.

The old writer Pausanias, writing his "Description of Greece," in the
second century, says that the people of Cumæ showed a small stone urn
in the temple of Apollo containing the ashes of the sibyl. For many
centuries her cavern was pointed out to travellers in a rock under the
citadel of Cumæ. Finally the fortifications of the city were
undermined, but to this day a subterranean passage in the rock on
which they were built is still shown as the entrance to the sibyl's



The statue of Lorenzo de' Medici is the central figure on the tomb
erected to the memory of this prince. He was the rather unworthy
namesake of his illustrious grandfather, who was known as Lorenzo the
Magnificent. The Medici family was for many generations the richest
and most powerful in Florence. They were originally merchants, and, as
the name signifies, physicians, and, accumulating great wealth, they
became powerful leaders, and really the rulers of the republic.

Some of them were munificent patrons of art and literature. There was
one named Cosimo, who did so much to make his city famous that he was
called _Pater Patriae_, the father of the country, as was, centuries
afterwards, our own Washington. His grandson Lorenzo won the title of
the Magnificent for his lavish generosity and superb plans for the
advancement of art and learning. So much power could not safely be in
the hands of a single family. The Medici, from being benefactors,
finally became tyrants.

The Lorenzo of this statue was one of the more insignificant members
of the family. It is said that "he inherited the vices without the
genius of the family, and was ambitious, unscrupulous, and
dissipated. His uncle, Pope Leo X., after depriving the Duke of Urbino
of his hereditary domains, bestowed them, with the title of duke, on
Lorenzo, whom he also made general of the pontifical forces."[29] In
1518 Leo united him in marriage to a French princess, and their
daughter was the afterwards celebrated Catharine de' Medici, queen of
the French king, Henry II. These are the main facts in the life of a
man who is remembered only because he had illustrious ancestors, a
famous daughter, and a superb tomb.

[Footnote 29: Susan and Joanna Horner's _Walks in Florence_, vol. i. p.

It mattered nothing to Michelangelo that he had so poor a subject for
a statue. It is supposed that he made no attempt at correct
portraiture in the figure. The insignificant Lorenzo was transformed
by the magic of his genius into a hero.

He wears a suit of Roman armor, in accordance with his career as a
general in the wars with the Duke of Urbino, whose title he took. His
helmet is pulled well forward over the brow, the head is bent, the
cheek rests upon the left hand, the elbow supported on a casket placed
on the knee. With finger laid thoughtfully upon the lips, he is
thinking intently. The right hand rests, palm out, against the knee in
a characteristic position of inaction.

[Illustration: LORENZO DE' MEDICI. _Church of S. Lorenzo, Florence._]

His mood is not that of a dreamer lost to his present surroundings.
Rather he seems to be keenly aware of what is going on; his
meditations have to do with the present. It is as if, having given an
order, he awaits its execution, his mind still intent upon his
purposes, satisfied with his decision, and calmly expectant of its
success. His affair is one of serious importance; no trifling matter
absorbs the thought of this grave man. "A king sits in this attitude
when, in the midst of his army, he orders the execution of some
judicial act, like the destruction of a city. Frederic Barbarossa must
have appeared thus when he caused Milan to be ploughed up."[30]

[Footnote 30: Taine, _Travels in Italy_.]

The lack of resemblance in the statue to the original duke Lorenzo
made it for a long time doubtful whether it was intended to be his
tomb. The Florentines, in their poetic way, fell into the habit of
calling it _Il Pensiero_, that is, Thought, or Meditation, sometimes
_Il Pensieroso_, The Thinker. These are, after all, the best names for
the statue, which is allegorical rather than historical in its
intention. The great English poet Milton has written a poem, which is
like a companion piece to the statue, fitting it as words sometimes
fit music. It begins in this way, in words which _Il Pensieroso_
himself might speak:--

    "Hence, vain deluding Joys,
    The brood of Folly, without father bred!
    How little you bested,
    Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toys!
    Dwell in some idle brain,
    And fancies fond with gaudy shape possess,
    As thick and numberless
    As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,
    Or likest hovering dreams,
    The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.
    But hail! thou Goddess sage and holy,
    Hail, divinest Melancholy!"

Lorenzo's statue stands in a niche above the sarcophagus, or stone
coffin, in which his body was laid. On the top of the sarcophagus are
two reclining figures called Dawn and Twilight. The tomb itself is in
a chapel, or sacristy, called the New Sacristy (to distinguish it from
one still older), in the Church of S. Lorenzo, Florence. The entire
sacristy is devoted to the memory of the Medici family, who had for
several generations been benefactors of this church.

Now Michelangelo had a great deal to do with this family first and
last, and his work on the tomb has an additional interest on this
account. It was to Lorenzo the Magnificent that he owed his first
start as a sculptor in an academy founded by this prince. He so
pleased his patron that he was received into the duke's own household,
and treated almost like a son. Years passed; Lorenzo had long been
dead, when, one after another, two members of the same family came to
the papal throne, and they desired to honor their name by employing
the greatest sculptor of Italy in this monumental work.

So Michelangelo began designs for the sacristy, the entire decoration
of which was intrusted to him. The walls of the rooms were panelled
with marble, set with niches, in the form of windows, in which the
statues were to be placed.

As the work proceeded, it was interrupted by some strange incidents,
of which we shall hear later. The whole plan was never fully carried
out, but in spite of incompleteness the chapel is a grand and
impressive place.



The tomb of Giuliano de' Medici is the companion to the tomb of
Lorenzo, and stands on the opposite side of the altar which separates
them. Our illustration shows the entire work, the statue being in the
niche above, and the sarcophagus standing below with two reclining
figures on it.

Giuliano de' Medici, duke of Nemours, was the youngest son of Lorenzo
the Magnificent, and consequently the uncle of the younger Lorenzo. In
reality he was greatly superior to his nephew, but curiously enough
his appearance in Michelangelo's statue is more commonplace, though
his attitude is graceful. He was a thoughtful man, somewhat melancholy
in disposition, and the author of a poem on suicide. He wears the
costume of a Roman general, but his small head and slender throat are
not those of a warrior.

You will notice that the attitude of the duke Giuliano is somewhat
similar to that of Moses. Both sit with left foot drawn back and right
knee extended. Both turn the head in profile, looking intently toward
the left. In either case it is easy to imagine the figure suddenly
springing up.

Now this fact emphasizes the difference we have already noted between
the sculpture of Michelangelo and that of the Greeks. The leading idea
in Greek sculpture was that of repose, while, as we have seen in the
David and the Cupid, Michelangelo chose for his figures a moment of
action. To give this suggestion of motion to a seated figure is even
more remarkable than in the case of one standing, for the sitting
posture naturally has an effect of stability.

The reclining figures on the sarcophagus of the Duke Giuliano
represent Night and Day, and are supposed to be symbolic of death and
resurrection. Night is a woman lying with head sunk upon the breast in
a deep sleep. She is crowned with a crescent moon and star, and an owl
is placed at her feet. The mask beneath her pillow symbolizes the body
from which the spirit has departed. Though the figure is not beautiful
in the Greek sense, it is grand and queenly. Opposite is Day, an
unfinished captive, his head half freed from the stone, the arms
rigid, the body contorted.

These two figures, together with Dawn and Twilight on Lorenzo's tomb,
have an allegorical meaning which must be read in the light of
Michelangelo's own life history. "Life is a dream between two
slumbers; sleep is death's twin-brother; night is the shadow of death;
death is the gate of life--such is the mysterious mythology wrought by
the sculptor."[31]

[Footnote 31: Symonds, in _Renaissance in Italy: the Fine Arts_.]

The work on the Medicean tombs covered a period of about twelve years.
During this time the Medici family passed through varying fortunes,
and in consequence the fate of the tombs, and indeed that of the
sculptor himself, hung in the balance. Florence became weary of
tyranny and rose in a revolution which drove the Medici from the city
in 1527.

[Illustration: TOMB OF GIULIANO DE' MEDICI. _Church of S. Lorenzo,

Success was of short duration: the republic soon "found herself
standing out against a world of foes," the Pope, Clement VII. (himself
a Medici), "threatening fire and flame," and all the Medici family
"getting ready to return in double force." The Florentines prepared to
fight for their liberty, and Michelangelo was found among the
patriots. No sense of personal gratitude to the Medici could shake his
love of liberty. He forsook the monuments and turned his skill to the
fortification of the city.

For eleven months Florence was besieged, and in the end the city was
captured. The Medici returned conquerors. Mercenaries now broke into
the houses, killing the best citizens. Had not Michelangelo been in
hiding, he too would have perished. But the Pope could not afford to
lose his best sculptor, and, calling him forth from his hiding-place,
again set him to work in the Medici chapel. It is not strange that the
sculptor's proud spirit rebelled at having to work on that which was
to honor the enemies of his beloved Florence.

Thus it was that his sculpture told the story of "the tragedy of
Florence: how hope had departed, how life had become a desert, and how
it was hard to struggle with waking consciousness, but good to sleep
and forget--nay, best of all, to be stone and feel no more."

The old writer Vasari, who was once a pupil of Michelangelo, and tells
us many anecdotes of the sculptor, relates that when the statue of
Night was first shown to the public, it called forth a verse from a
contemporary poet (Giovan Battista Strozzi). This is the verse:--

    "Night in so sweet an attitude beheld
    Asleep, was by an angel sculptured
    In this stone; and sleeping, is alive;
    Waken her, doubter; she will speak to thee."[32]

To this Michelangelo replied in the following lines:[33]--

    "Welcome is sleep, more welcome sleep of stone
    Whilst crime and shame continue in the land;
    My happy fortune not to see or hear;
    Waken me not;--in mercy whisper low."[32]

The artist's verse may be taken as a keynote to the solemn tragedy of
the work. In fact, the monuments are not really to Lorenzo and
Giuliano, but to Florence, to "the great city which had struggled and
erred so long, which had gone astray and repented, and suffered and
erred again, but always mightily, with full tide of life in her veins
and consciousness in her heart, until now the time had come when she
was dead and past, chained down by icy oppression in a living

[Footnote 32: Both translations are from Horners' _Walks in Florence_.
Symonds has also translated the verses, but less literally.]

[Footnote 33: Swinburne in his lines, "In San Lorenzo," answers these
lines, "Is thine hour come to waken, slumbering Night?"]

[Footnote 34: This and the preceding quotations are from Mrs.
Oliphant's _Makers of Florence_.]



There are in the Bible certain references to a great day when the Son
of Man shall be seen "coming in the clouds with great power and
glory." "And he shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet,
and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from one
end of heaven to the other."[35] St. Paul, in a letter which he wrote
to the Christians in Corinth, speaks of this as a "mystery," and
says:[36] "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a
moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet
shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall
be changed."

[Footnote 35: Matthew, chapter xxiv. verse 31.]

[Footnote 36: 1 Corinthians, chapter xv. verses 51, 52.]

In the Middle Ages these passages were interpreted very literally and
had a great influence over the people. At that time the Christian
religion was a religion of fear rather than of love, and men were
continually picturing in their minds God's angry separation of the
good from the wicked.

How much such thoughts occupied them we may see from Dante's great
poem describing a vision of the Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise.
This was written in the thirteenth century, and in the same period
appeared a short Latin lyric, or hymn, called "Dies Irae," or the Day
of Wrath, from an expression used by the old Hebrew prophet Zephaniah.
The author was a Franciscan monk named Thomas of Celano, and we may
see how deeply he felt from these verses:--

    "Ah! what terror is impending
    When the Judge is seen descending,
    And each secret veil is rending.

    "To the throne, the trumpet sounding,
    Through the sepulchres resounding,
    Summons all, with voice astounding.

    "Sits the Judge, the raised arraigning,
    Darkest mysteries explaining,
    Nothing unavenged remaining."

This vivid word picture forms the subject of many great paintings by
the older Italian masters, known under the title of the Last Judgment.
Michelangelo's was one of the last of these, and in general
arrangement his composition resembles those of his predecessors.

From the upper air a company of angels descends, carrying a cross, a
crown of thorns, and other instruments of the Saviour's sufferings.
Below them is the Judge himself surrounded by the apostles and other
saints. Underneath are the archangels blowing their trumpets. On
earth, in the lowest part of the picture at the left, the dead rise
from their graves and ascend through the air to the Judge. At the
right, opposite the ascending dead, are the condemned sinners,
descending to the boat which will carry them over the river Styx into
the Inferno.

[Illustration: CENTRAL FIGURES OF THE LAST JUDGMENT. _Sistine Chapel,

Our illustration gives only the central figures in this great
multitude, the Divine Judge accompanied by his mother. He is a man of
mighty muscular power, young and handsome, with an expression of
imperious dignity. Enthroned on the clouds, he seems just rising from
a sitting posture to execute his judgments. He lifts his arms in a
sweeping motion as if to part the multitudes pressing upon him on both
sides. In so doing he shows the wound in his right side made by the
soldier's spear at the crucifixion. Neither expression nor gesture
manifests anger; those beautiful hands with delicately extended
fingers will strike no blow. The gesture itself is a command.

Beneath Christ's upraised arm, on his right side, sits his Mother
Mary. Each must interpret for himself her attitude and expression.
Some think that because she turns her face away she is shrinking from
her son in terror. Yet her expression is so gentle that others say she
is nestling close to him for protection. This is certainly as we
should imagine the situation. When she was a young mother, she was
proud to take care of her child. And now on this great day she is
equally proud to let him take care of her. As he clung to her, his
mother, so she now clings to him, the Judge.

Looking at the composition of the picture, we see that her figure
completes a pyramid, whose apex is the uplifted hand of the Judge,
and whose base lies along the cloud supporting his feet and hers. This
gives proper stability to the figures which dominate the whole great
picture. Considered in a larger way, the pyramid is itself the upper
part of a long oval which keeps the central group apart from the
surrounding host.

The picture of the Last Judgment was painted by Michelangelo on the
end wall of the Sistine Chapel, over the altar, nearly twenty years
after the completion of the ceiling frescoes. There is a great
difference between the two works. The figures on the ceiling are
strong and powerful, their attitudes spirited and graceful. Those in
the Last Judgment are huge and cumbersome, their attitudes strained
and violent. The entire effect of the vast company of colossal figures
is awe-inspiring, but not pleasing.

It is a relief to fix our eyes upon the central portion. Here the
painter expressed an idea at once noble and original. The figure of
the Christ has not the delicate beauty of the dead Christ in the
Pietà, or the finished elegance of the Christ Triumphant, but he has
the splendid vigor of a forceful character. The Mother, less grand and
noble than in the bereavement of the Pietà, less proud than in her
young motherhood, is a gentle and lovely creature. Thus the intensely
masculine is completed by the delicately feminine, and the artist
shows us ideal types of manhood and womanhood.



In the pictures of this collection we have learned something of the
work of Michelangelo as a sculptor and a painter. He was an artist
whose personality was so strongly impressed upon his work that we have
come thus to know, to a certain extent, the man himself. His, as we
have seen, was not a happy nature, and many of the circumstances of
his life conspired against his happiness.

In his early youth he seemed strangely aware of his own superior gifts
and was often so overbearing that he made enemies. The story is told
of a quarrel he had with a young man named Torrigiano, in whose
company he was copying some frescoes in a church in Florence. Stung by
some tormenting words of Michelangelo, Torrigiano retaliated with a
blow of the fist, which crushed his companion's nose, and disfigured
him for life.

Michelangelo's real education began in the palace of Lorenzo the
Magnificent, who discovered the lad's talent and made him a favorite.
"He sat at the same table with Ficino, Pico, and Poliziano, listening
to dialogues on Plato, and drinking in the golden poetry of Greece.
Greek literature and philosophy, expounded by the men who had
discovered them, first moulded his mind to those lofty thoughts which
it became the task of his life to express in form. At the same time he
heard the preaching of Savonarola. In the Duomo and the cloister of S.
Marco another portion of his soul was touched, and he acquired that
deep religious tone which gives its majesty and terror to the
Sistine."[37] In the gardens of S. Marco he had Lorenzo's fine
collection of antiquities to study, and learned from them the secrets
of Greek sculpture.

[Footnote 37: Symonds, in _Renaissance in Italy: The Fine Arts_.]

In all these opportunities it would seem that Michelangelo was a most
fortunate person. Nor did he lack proper appreciation; the PietÃ
placed him at once on a pinnacle of fame, and the David was heartily

It was when he entered the service of the Pope that his troubles
began. He was never thereafter a free man. His genius was at the
disposition of a series of men, each ambitious for his own fame, and
caring little for the artist's personal aspirations. His proud nature
was bitterly humiliated by this sacrifice of his independence.
Sometimes he openly rebelled, but in the end was always obliged to
yield to papal authority.

Michelangelo's sternly upright spirit found also much to sadden him in
the corruption of the times. He was a lover of righteousness as well
as a lover of liberty, and he greatly mourned the evils which
surrounded him.

One of the pleasantest traits in his character was his warm affection
for the members of his family and for the few whom he honored with his
friendship. One of the latter was Vittoria Colonna, a woman of strong
and beautiful character, who brought much brightness into his life.

Our portrait shows him somewhat past middle life when occupied with
many important concerns. We can read in the face something of the
character of the man. It is certainly not a handsome face, for any
good looks he might once have boasted were destroyed by his broken
nose. It is nevertheless a face full of rugged strength, with not a
little kindliness in the expression. Here is a man whose enmity we
should avoid, but whose friendship we should value above rubies.

It is the face of a lonely man. Michelangelo had to suffer the
loneliness of genius. No one could fully understand him. He stood
apart, towering like a giant above his fellow men.

On the four hundredth anniversary of Michelangelo's birthday, some
verses were written by an American poet, Christopher Cranch, which one
should read while looking at this portrait:--

    "This is the rugged face
    Of him who won a place
    Above all kings and lords;
    Whose various skill and power
    Left Italy a dower
    No numbers can compute, no tongue translate in words.

    "Patient to train and school
    His genius to the rule
    Art's sternest laws required;
    Yet, by no custom chained,
    His daring hand disdained
    The academic forms by tamer souls admired.

    "In his interior light
    Awoke those shapes of might
    Once known that never die;
    Forms of titanic birth,
    The elder brood of earth,
    That fill the mind more grandly than they charm the eye.

    "Yet when the master chose,
    Ideal graces rose
    Like flowers on gnarled boughs;
    For he was nursed and fed
    At beauty's fountain head
    And to the goddess pledged his earliest warmest vows."

The poet describes still further the artist's character, and then
enumerates some of his great works. Whatever occupied him--

    "Still proudly poised, he stepped
    The way his vision swept,
    And scorned the narrower view.
    He touched with glory all
    That pope or cardinal,
    With lower aim than his, allotted him to do.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "So stood this Angelo
    Four hundred years ago;
    So grandly still he stands,
    Mid lesser worlds of art,
    Colossal and apart,
    Like Memnon breathing songs across the desert sands."


The Diacritical Marks given are those found in the latest edition of
Webster's International Dictionary.


A Dash (¯) above the vowel denotes the long sound, as in fāte, ēve,
     tīme, nōte, ūse.
A Dash and a Dot (-̇) above the vowel denote the same sound, less
A Curve (˘) above the vowel denotes the short sound, as in ădd, ĕnd,
     ĭll, ŏdd, ŭp.
A Dot ( ̇)  above the vowel a denotes the obscure sound of a in pȧst,
     ȧbāte, Amĕricȧ.
A Double Dot (¨) above the vowel a denotes the broad sound of a in
     fäther, älms.
A Double Dot (..) below the vowel a denotes the sound of a in ba̤ll.
A Wave (~) above the vowel e denotes the sound of e in hẽr.
A Circumflex Accent (^) above the vowel o denotes the sound of o in bôrn.
ç sounds like s.
c̵ sounds like k.
ṣ̱ sounds like z.
ḡ is hard as in ḡet.
ġ is soft as in ġem.

Æneas (ē̇ nē´ăs); Æneid (ē̇ nē´ĭd).
Anchises (ăn kī´sēz).
Ăn´nō Dŏm´ĭnī.

Babylon (băb´ĭ lŭn); Băby̆lō´nĭȧn.
Beethoven (bā´tō vŭn).
Bramante (brä män´tā̇).
Bugiardini (bōō jär dē´nē̇).
Buonarroti (bōō ō när rŏt´ē̇).

Canaan (kā´nȧn _or_ kā´nā̇ ȧn).
Celano (chā̇ lä´nō).
Cencio, Bernardo (bẽr när´dō̇ chĕn´chē ō̇).
Chaldean (kăl dē´ȧn).
Colonna, Vittoria (vē̇t tō´rē̇ ä kō lŏn´nä).
Condivi (kō̇n dē´vē̇).
Cosimo (kō̇´zē̇ mō).
Cristo Risorto (krēs´tō̇ rē̇ zôr´tō̇).
Cumæ (kū´mē).
Cyrus (sī´rŭs).

Daniel (dăn´yĕl _or_ dăn´ĭ ĕl).
Daphne (dăf´nē).
Delphi (dĕl´fī).
Dies Iræ (dē´ās ē´rī _or_ dī´ēz ī´rē).
Dionigi, di San (dē sän dē̇ ō̇ nē´jē̇).
Domine, quo vadis (dō´mē nā̇, kwō wä´dĭs _or_ dŏm´ī nē̇, kwō vā´dĭs).
Doni, Angelo (än´jā lō dō´nē̇).
Douay (dōō ā´).
Duomo (dōō ō´mō).


Febbre, della (dĕl´lä fēb´brā̇).
Ficino (fē̇ chē'nō).
Franciscan (frăn sĭs'kȧn).
Frizzi, Federigo (fā̇ dā̇ rē'ḡō̇ frēt'sē̇).

Gíovanní (jō̇ vän'nē̇).
Giuliano (jōō lē̇ ä'nō).
Gotti (ḡŏt'tē̇).
Gualfonda (gwäl fŏn'dä).

Huguenot (hū'ḡēnŏt).

Isaiah (ī zā'yȧ).
Israel (ĭz'rā̇ ĕl).

Jameson (jā'mĕ sŭn).
Jerome (jē̇ rōm' _or_ jĕr'ŏm).
Judæa (jū̇ dē̇'ȧ).

Kugler (kōōg'lẽr).


Medici (mā'dē̇ chē̇).
Michelangelo (mē kĕl än'jā̇ lō).
Milan (mĭl'ȧn _or_ mĭ lăn').
Milanesi (mē̇ lä nā'zē̇).
Morpheus (môr'fūs).

Nebuchadnezzar (nĕb ū kăd nĕz'zăr).
Nemour (nĕ mōōr').

Oliphant (ŏl'ĭ fȧnt).

Palazzo Vecchio (pä lät'sō̇ vĕk'kē̇ ō̇).
Pater Patriæ (pä'tār pä'trē̇ ī _or_ pā'tẽr pā'trĭ ē).
Pausanias (pa̤ā'nĭ ăs).
Pensiero, Il (ēl pĕn sē̇ ā'rō̇);
Pensieroso (pĕn sē̇ ā̇ rō'zō̇).
Pharaoh (fā'rō̇).
Piazza della Signoria (pē̇ ät'sä dĕl'lä sē̇n yō̇ rē'ä).
Pico (pē'kō).
Pietà (pē̇ ā̇ tä').
Pietro in Vincoli (pē̇ ā'trō̇ ēn vēn'kō̇ lē̇).
Pitti, Bartolommeo (bär tō̇ lŏm mā'ō̇ pē̇t'tē̇).
Poliziano (pō̇ lē̇t sē̇ ä'nō̇)
py̆th'ĭ ȧ.

Raphael (rä'fā ĕl).
Rucellai (rōō chĕl lä'ē̇).

Santarelli (sän tä rĕl'lē̇).
Savonarola (sä vō̇ nä rō'lä).
Scappuci, Mario (mä'rē̇ ō̇ skäp pōō'chē̇).
Sistine (sĭs'tēn).
Solari, Cristoforo (krē̇s tŏf'ō̇ rō̇ sō̇ lä'rē̇).
Stabat Mater (stā'băt mā'tẽr _or_ stä'bät mä'tār).
Strozzi, Giovan Battista (jō̇ vän' bät tēs'tä strŏt'sē̇).

Tarquin (tär'kwĭn).
terribilità (tĕr rē̇ bē̇ lē̇ tä').
Torrigiano (tôr rē̇ jä'nō̇).

Uffizi (ōōf fēt'sē̇).
Upharsin (ū̇ fär'sĭn).
Urbano, Pietro (pē̇ ā'trō̇ ōōr bä'nō̇).
Urbino (ōōr bē'nō̇).

Varj dei Porcari, Metello (mā̇ tĕl'lō̇ vä'rē̇ dā' ē̇ pôr kä'rē̇).
Vasari (vä sä'rē̇).
Vatican (văt'ĭ kȧn).
Virgil (vẽr'jĭl).

Zephaniah (zĕf ȧ nī'ȧ).



_Sample of the portraits in "Masterpieces of American Literature" and
"Masterpieces of British Literature," described on the second page of
this circular._

[Illustration: Oliver Wendell Holmes.]




We have received so many calls for portraits of authors and pictures
of their homes suitable for class and note-book use in the study of
reading and literature, that we have decided to issue separately the
twenty-nine portraits contained in "Masterpieces of American
Literature" and "Masterpieces of British Literature," and the homes of
eight American authors as shown in the Appendix to the _newly revised_
edition of "Richardson's Primer of American Literature."








_Sold only in lots of ten or more, assorted as desired._

Ten, assorted, postpaid, 20 cents.

Each additional one in the same package, 1 cent.

In lots of 100 or more, assorted, 1 cent each, postpaid.

_For mutual convenience please send a remittance with each order.
Postage stamps taken._






Of Whittier, Lowell, Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Holmes, Bryant.
Size, 24 by 30 inches. Lithographs, $1.00, _net_, each, postpaid.
Teachers' price, 85 cents, _net_, each, postpaid.


For descriptions and prices see other pages of this circular.


For descriptions and prices see other pages of this circular.


A colored lithograph of the historic mansion ("Washington's
Headquarters") at Cambridge, in which Mr. Longfellow lived for forty
years. Size, 12 by 16 inches. Price, 50 cents, _net_, postpaid.


(The size of cabinet photographs) of over ninety of the most
celebrated American and European Authors. The 25-cent portraits and
the 75-cent portraits are printed on paper measuring 9 by 12 inches,
and the $1.00 portraits 11 by 14 inches. _A list with prices to
teachers may be had on application._





_Sample of the pictures of authors' homes in the newly revised edition
of Richardson's Primer of American Literature, described on the second
page of this circular._


In the Riverside Literature Series the reader's attention is fixed on
a great work of art in letters, with only such help as will make it
more intelligible; in like manner in the Riverside Art Series the
picture is the object of study, and the text is its interpretation.

Each book contains pictures which are representative of the work of a
famous painter, and the most faithful reproductions of the originals
have been secured. Valuable suggestions also are given by the editor
as aids for further study. The editor of the Series, Miss Estelle M.
Hurll, is well known by her recent valuable edition of the works of
Mrs. Jameson, and her Life of Our Lord in Art.

The books of this Series will have a value as texts in art classes, as
supplementary readers in schools, as guides to the best pictures in
galleries both abroad and in this country, and as handy books of
reference to the general reader in regard to matters pertaining to the
best art.

Four numbers are assigned for publication each school year in October,
December, February, and April.





_Other numbers in preparation._

Each volume is 12mo in size, of about 100 pages.

_Price in paper, 30 cents, net; in cloth, 40 cents, net._


Any four consecutive numbers, in paper, $1.00, _net_; in cloth $1.50,




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