Familiar sketches of sculpture and sculptors

y

, . ... • . '.. . HBHH

Presented to the

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY

by the

ONTARIO LEGISLATIVE
LIBRARY

1980

FAMILIAR SKETCHES

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

THE AUTHOR OF "THREE EXPERIMENTS IN LIVING," "SKETCHES
OF THE LIVES OF THE OLD PAINTERS," ETC.

0 for those glorious days when living Greece
Disdained to seek renown in ' Golden Fleece,'
But from the marble quarry drew her fame,
And won for Athens an immortal name ! "

VOLUME I.

BOSTON:

CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY,

111 WASHINGTON STREET.

1854.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by

CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

V-/

METCALF AND COMPANY,

AND PSINTERS.

TO

JACOB BIGELOW, M. D.,

MY FRIEND IN SICKNESS AND HEALTH,

WHO, AMONG THE OCCUPATIONS OF A LABORIOUS PROFESSION,

HAS FOUND TIME TO DEVOTE TO THE USEFUL AND ELEGANT ARTS,

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

BY THE AUTHOR,

VI PREFACE.

possibly a pleasant book. As my motives
were humble, so has been my execution, and
I have not hesitated to press into my service
and offer to my readers any information found
in other writers belonging to my subject.

Should these little volumes interest the
young, and be a precursor of more valuable
compositions of the same cast, my purpose
will be accomplished, and I hope this frank
avowal will save me from the imputation of
presumption.

After writing the above Preface, and when
my book was nearly completed, a volume was
put into my hands, which, had I met with it
before, would have supplied my want. This
work, entitled " Sculpture and the Plastic Art,"
is an excellent compendium of works preced-
ing it. The author, however, though begin-
ning with the same general plan as mine, has
followed it out in so different a manner, that
I have still thought a publication of my own
book might not be useless.

PREFACE. ' Vll

The subject of Sculpture among us Ameri-
cans has been but little studied except by the
initiated. Painting has her thousand votaries,
and is illustrated and described by a hundred
authors, while Sculpture stands off in moon-
lit solitudes, and, like the Egyptian Isis, veils
her features from the crowd.

In studying the works of authors on art,
those of Winckelmann have been preeminent
in my mind. Till Henry G. Lodge's transla-
tion of the second volume of his History of
Ancient Art, he has been scarcely known to
the English readers among us. Those who
have become acquainted with this beautiful
work will be ready, perhaps, to feel some in-
terest in the short abstract of his life, gathered
from a French translation, and which may
well precede " Familiar Sketches of Sculp-
ture and Sculptors."

NOTE. — We must observe, as we have done heretofore in
historical sketches, that the various orthography of names as
written by different authors is perplexing. We have sought to
adopt those which have appeared most correct.

CONTENTS

OF

THE FIRST VOLUME

PAGE

WINCKELMANN 1

CHAPTER I.

EGYPTIAN AKT .27

CHAPTER II.

EGYPTIAN AND GRECIAN MYTHOLOGY. — SKETCH OF DAE-
DALUS " . . .44

CHAPTER III.

GR^ECO-EGYPTIAN ART. — DIBUTADES AND CALLIRHOE . 59

CHAPTER IV.

GRECIAN ART. — PERICLES AND PHIDIAS .... 77

CHAPTER V.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS CONTEMPORARY WITH PHIDIAS 97

X CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VI.

PRAXITELES, LYSIPPUS, AND CHARES OF LINDUS. — CO-
LOSSUS OF RHODES 104

CHAPTER Vn.

ETRURIA AND ROME 118

CHAPTER VHL

SCULPTURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES. — LIFE OF FILIPPO

BRUNELLESCHI 133

CHAPTER IX.

DIFFUSION OF SCULPTURE. — LIFE OF DONATELLO . . 153

CHAPTER X.

THE TWO BROTHERS. — ANDREA DEL VEROCCHIO. — TOR-

RIGIANO 165

CHAPTER XI.

LEONARDO DA VINCI. — MICHEL ANGELO. — RAPHAEL. —

BENVENUTO CELLINI. — PROPERZIA DE' ROSSI . . 178

CHAPTER XII.

BENEDETTO DE MAJANO. — PIERO DA VINCI. — GlOVANNI
DA BOLOGNA. — LORENZO GIOVANNI BERNINI . . 188

CHAPTER XIII.

ANTONIO CANOVA 220

CHAPTER XIV.

THOEWALDSEN 233

WINCKELMANN.

1 1

WINCKELMANN.

IT may be said of Winckelmann, as Cor-
neille said of himself, that he owed his renown
solely to his own efforts. Nature had im-
pressed upon him the stamp of genius, and
at the same time endowed him with the per-
severance necessary to rise above the adverse
circumstances of his birth. Constrained dur-
ing the most promising part of his youth to
struggle against indigence, it required all the
strength of his mind to keep up his courage.
With the most powerful obstacles to conquer,
few could have foreseen that he would one
day secure to the fine arts the interest and re-
spect they merited, and fix the attention of
the world upon those masterpieces of antiqui-
ty which past ages have spared to us.

His birth was obscure. The only son of a
1

2 WINCKELMANN.'

poor shoemaker, he was born, the 9th of
December, 1717, at Stendal, a small town
of Prussia, two leagues from the Elbe. At
baptism he received the name of John
Joachim, but afterwards omitted the latter.
From his earliest youth he displayed the
strongest inclination to study. His father
willingly furnished the means necessary for
his education, and continued to do so while
he was able to work; but becoming extremely
infirm, he was obliged to seek an asylum at
the hospital of Stendal, and leave his son to
his own efforts. He had always marked out
for him the ecclesiastical profession, but for
this John had not the least inclination.

The first instructor of Winckelmann was a
man by the name of Tappert, Rector of the
College of Stendal, who, finding that his
pupil possessed an excellent memory and
sound judgment, paid him unusual atten-
tion. At an early period Winckelmann under-
stood enough of the learned languages to read
with pleasure the classical authors. His mas-
ter, charmed with his progress, regarded him
as a prodigy. The only dissatisfaction he felt
was in finding that he was not so attentive to
lessons of theology as to those on other sub-
jects. He found him more than once making
extracts from Latin authors, to which he was

WINCKELMANN. 3

more inclined than to theological definitions.
Upon this point they could obtain nothing
from him either by persuasion or rigor. Ci-
cero was his favorite, and the orations of the
Roman orator were the models on which
he sought to form himself. To defray his
small expenses, he taught little children to
read. Tappert, his master, having lost his
sight, took the young Winckelmann into his
house, and his pupil willingly read and wrote
for him. The master, sensible of these atten-
tions, recompensed him by -his instructions
and good counsels, and permitted him to
make free use of his library.

Among the studies that the young pupil
cultivated from taste were history, geography,
philosophy, the languages, and, above all, an-
tiquities. His researches for works of ancient
art began almost in his infancy ; in the long
days of summer he found many leisure mo-
ments; these were spent in hunting in the
sand for fragments, which he preserved as
relics.

The desire he had to extend his knowledge,
as his years increased, did not leave him long
in repose in the place of his birth. At the age
of sixteen he repaired to Berlin, with a letter of
recommendation to M. Damm, Rector of the
College of C — *, who found him intelligent and

4 WINCKELMANN.

industrious. The time which was not devoted
to study Winckelmann employed in giving les-
sons to the young in those sciences he had
already acquired. This good son was enabled
to save something from his labors for the com-
fort and solace of his poor old father. After
remaining some time at Berlin, finding by
various accounts that his father's infirmities
were increasing, he left Berlin and returned to
Stendal to the arms of his aged parent.

The library of his former instructor was
again open to him. The kindness and benefit
he had received at Berlin were deeply en-
graven on his heart. Thirty years after, he
sent the most grateful acknowledgments to
the pastor Kulitze and the rector Damm, pro-
vided they were still living.

After his return to Stendal he resumed his
studies and former occupations. It is a cus-
tom generally established in the towns of
Germany, for the poor scholars to go in bands
about the streets singing canticles. "Winckel-
mann was the leader of one of these choirs.
This place gave him enough to supply the
necessities of his parent and himself. As he
had an earnest desire and a noble ambition to
distinguish himself in the world of letters, he
was not daunted by the difficulties which en-
cumbered his path, but in the bosom of in-

WINCKELMANN. 5

digence cherished extensive projects, and never
lost the hope of realizing them.

Having exhausted the sources of instruction
at Stendal, and his father's health being such
as to enable him to leave him, he repaired to
the University at Halle in 1738, with the in-
tention of there continuing his studies. A
short time after his arrival, he made a journey
to Dresden with one of his countrymen ; the
ostensible object was to see the place and to
witness the bridal solemnities on the occasion
of the marriage of the Princess of Saxony with
the Sicilian king. His great object, however,
was the hope of finding some means of liveli-
hood in that city ; but in this he did not suc-
ceed.

On his return to Halle he resumed his
studies. He did not frequent many public
lectures, but derived great benefit from the
libraries, having no other means of procuring
books which were necessary to him. For his
own advantage he made translations from the
ancients, and cultivated the reading of the
Greek authors. Indeed, the study of the an-
cients wholly occupied the faculties of his
soul, and he was often so much engaged as to
forget the wants of the body. Temperate
from taste as well as necessity, he lived the
greater part of the time on bread and water ;

6 WINCKELMANN.

and though destitute of pecuniary means, was
always gay and contented. His sincerity and
goodness made him friends, and his capacity
gained him protectors; but it must be con-
fessed that his iprospects were any thing but
brilliant. Towards the conclusion of his
studies, he had, without success, applied to
Gesner, Professor at the University of Got-
tingen, to procure for him a place. After
other equally unsuccessful attempts, he found
himself obliged to accept a tutorship in a pri-
vate family.

The desire of travelling, so natural to a
young person of ardent temperament, became
a passion with him. After having acquired
some money, he formed the design of going to
Paris. When very young he had contemplat-
ed making a voyage to Egypt, disguised as a
pilgrim, to view the famous ruins of the coun-
try. The reading of Caesar determined him to
visit France. Supported solely by his own
resolution, he set out on foot in 1741, with
the intention of going to Paris. He directed
his course to Frankfort, but soon began to
feel the temerity of his purpose, and the little
he could accomplish without letters or money.
The journey was rendered still more difficult
by the war then impending, and he was wise
enough to relinquish his purpose. In return-

WINCKELMANN.

ing from this expedition, a little adventure
happened, which he related to his friends.
When he arrived at the bridge of Fulda, he
stopped by the road-side to adjust his dress and
shave his beard before entering the town. As
he innocently lifted a razor to his face, he was
startled by the shrill cries of several ladies, who
were in a carriage entering upon the other end
of the bridge, and who, seeing him thus, with
razor uplifted, supposed he was about to cut
his throat. Coming nearer, they stopped and
demanded what he was going to do. After
relieving them from their apprehensions, he
told them, with much simplicity, of the failure
of his enterprise, and that he was returning
home. Their curiosity being satisfied, they
begged him to accept some money, that he
might continue his journey more conveniently.

Returned to Halle, he sought a new place as
preceptor, and was for some time in this situa-
tion. Here he became acquainted with M.
Boysen, who, quitting an office he held in the
college for one more important, offered it to
"Winckelmann, who accepted it. But he was
already too learned for so small a sphere, as is
obvious from a letter M. Boysen wrote to a
friend.

" I supported Winckelmann with all my
powers after he had given me astonishing
proofs of his knowledge in Greek literature.

8 WINCKELMANN.

But what is the consequence ! Every body
accuses me of being more interested in him
than in the College. They say he does not
know how to preach, and that he has not the
gift of instruction. Some admit that the
sphere is too small for him. At any rate, the
number of scholars has diminished, and
Winckelmann is earnest with me to let him
go elsewhere."

It appears, however, that they at length
recognized his merit and learning, and he re-
ceived flattering testimonies from his superiors.
He exerted all the strength of his mind and all
his philosophy to support with equanimity
his function of schoolmaster at Stendal and
Seehausen. At that time he wrote thus to a
friend at Zurich : —

" Let us be content, like children at the table,
with what is given us, without raising our
hands to the dish or murmuring that we have
so little. We must perform our part in the
best manner we can. I have filled formerly
the rffice of schoolmaster with the greatest
punctuality, and taught the A B C to children,
dirty and stupid; while, during the hours of
recreation, I aspired to an acquaintance with
the grand and the beautiful, and silently med-
itated comparisons of Homer. I said to my-
self then, as I say now, Peace, my heart ! thy
powers surpass thy weariness and vexations."

WINCKELMANN. 9

It was evident, however, that he had no de-
sire to remain in his present situation. On the
contrary, he was revolving a plan of more en-
larged existence. All the leisure he could
spare from his duties he employed in making
extracts from books, and in acquiring the
modern languages, French, English, and
Italian.

His father was yet living, but, oppressed by
a weight of years, he had no consolation but
in the filial affection of his son, who devoted
himself to him, and did not return to Seehau-
sen till he had closed his father's eyes, and
composed his own mind after the trying scene.
He continued, however, to be tormented with
an earnest desire to increase his knowledge,
and place himself in a situation more to his
taste. He hoped to find some Maecenas of
the fine arts, and at length succeeded.

The Count de Biinau is generally known
as a skilful diplomatist, a good historian, and
a universal patron of letters. His History of
the Empire will always be, if not a model of
taste, at least a monument of his profound
knowledge. His bibliotheque, used in Dres-
den and incorporated with its history, was one
of the most celebrated in Europe. This was
the patron upon whom Winckelmann fixed
his views. He wrote him a letter, from which
we make the following extract : —

10 WINCKELMANN.

" I have the boldness to forward this letter
from the dust of the school. Since I have
studied the admirable history of your Excel-
lency I have been desirous to express the ven-
eration felt by me, and in which I bear a part
with all the world, for knowledge so vast and
so rare.

"Happy are those attached to the service
of so much learning, and, above all, to a
man of virtue, who can inspire the desire of
imitating it.

" I am one who has no other desire but to
consecrate himself to study, and I have never
suffered myself to be dazzled with favorable
situations which the Church might offer.

"I have buried myself in the schools of
my country, that I might be able to instruct
in polite literature. But the deplorable state
of our schools has filled me with disgust,
and given me the idea of pushing my for-
tunes, if I may so speak, in a university. I
begin to reflect deeply, and to question my-
self upon the course I have hitherto pursued,
in following such studies in an age of meta-
physics, where the^ belles-lettres are trodden
under foot.

" Seeing myself without aid, however, I have
relinquished my designs. The only resource
which remains to me is in the goodness of your

WINCKELMANN. 11

Excellency. Place me in a corner of your
library to copy the rare information which
will be published."

This letter was favorably received, and
Winckelmann, furnishing himself with proper
credentials and recommendations, hastened to
the seat of Count Biinau, near Dresden.

Winckelmann now considered himself at
the height of In's wishes. Secluded in the
temple of the Muses, he could nourish his
mind by an intercourse with the ancients and
the moderns ; he could rectify his ideas and
acquire new ones. He there found another
treasure, M. Franke, author of the Catalogue
of the Biinau Library, a man who was equally
estimable for amiability and for erudition.

These two men became intimate friends,
but not till after some time had passed. At
first they were reserved and suspicious of each
other, owing to suggestions by a third person.
But this situation was too painful for men of
a frank and candid character. They had a
mutual explanation, and from that time a
friendship was formed which lasted through
life.

The vicinity of Dresden was very favorable
to "Winckelmann. Independent of those pro-
ductions of the fine arts which he found there,
he made valuable acquaintance with men.

12 WINCKELMANN.

He established an intercourse with M. Heyne,
who had the inspection of the library of
Count de Briihl, and who added lustre to
the University of Gottingen. These two men
henceforth became intimate friends. M. Heyne
announced to Winckelmann that the literary
institution of Gottingen had elected him one
of its members. M. Munchhausen, the zeal-
ous partisan of letters, also became closely
allied with the two friends.

Winckelmann now had every reason to be
contented with his lot, but an ardent desire to
travel, and a certain restlessness, which seems
to have formed a part of his constitution,
arising, undoubtedly, from a great thirst for
knowledge, awoke anew in his mind. He had
an earnest craving to visit Italy. The oppor-
tunity was not long delayed. The Nuncio of
the Pope, M. Archinto, often visiting the libra-
ry, became acquainted with Winckelmann.
Struck with his vast erudition, he mentioned
Rome to him as the place best calculated for
his residence, and offered to procure him the
situation of Librarian to . the Vatican, but at
the same time made known to him, that, to
succeed in this design, he must become a
Catholic. Winckelmann could not resist
the force of this argument, and, it seems,
of the temptation, and he did what was re-

WINCKELMANN. 13

quired, — made an abjuration of the Protes-
tant faith. The ceremony took place at the
hotel of the Nuncio.

Winckelmann seems to have been much
embarrassed on this occasion. He wrote a
letter to Count Biinau, which appears to indi-
cate that the change of his religion was rather
an affair of convenience than conviction.
Some passages of this singular letter are
given : —

" I cannot, I ought not to conceal from your
Excellency, that I have resumed my first pro-
ject and that I have taken a decided step."

" I feel that I have rendered myself unwor-
thy of your patience ! But convinced of the
goodness of your heart, I beseech you, Mon-
sieur le Comte, to listen to me ; may God,
the God of nations and of sects, have mercy
on you as you will have on me ! "

" After the last attacks of ill-health that I
suffered, I went to see M. Archinto, with the
sole design of taking leave of him, before his
departure for Vienna. I wished to know if it
were possible, without compromising myself,
to secure a perspective of visiting Rome.
His proceeding was more courteous than I
could have desired ; he sought to allure me to
his purpose by caresses and promises. In ob-
serving the thinness and paleness of my face,

14 WINCKELMANN.

he said that the sole means of recovering my
health was to embrace another occupation,
and to be relieved from confinement. I at
first refused to follow his counsels, stating that
I could not quit the works I had commenced,
and I must have time to think on the subject.
The departure of the Nuncio was deferred,
and during this interval I had time to finish
the Calalog-us Juris Publici, and to commence
the Catalog-us Historicus Italics, which is also
almost finished."

" His Majesty declared, after my act of re-
nunciation, that he would pay the expenses
of my journey, and Le Pere Rauch, confessor
to the king, assured me that I should want
for nothing."

" I throw myself at the feet of your Excel-
lency in spirit, I dare not do it in person ; I
hope that your heart, so full of humane and
generous feeling, which has hitherto borne with
my numerous imperfections, will cherish for
me a charitable judgment. Where is the
man whose actions are always judicious or
wise ? Homer says the gods only distribute
to man one portion of reason for every day."

Count Biinau seems to have exercised
much charity and indulgence towards Winck-
elmann, and instead of treating him with
severity on account of his change of religion,

WINCKELMANN. 15

I

assured him of his friendship and protection
if required.

Winckelmann fulfilled his engagements at
the library, and then repaired to Dresden, in
November, 1754, taking an affectionate leave
of the still kind Count de Biinau.

In 1762 he heard of the death of this
excellent man. He thus writes to his friend
Franke : —

" A month has passed since I heard of the
death of Count de Biinau, of which you wrote
me an account in your last letter. I pity you,
my friend, I pity you from the bottom of my
soul ; this great loss you will long feel. As for
myself, I lose the enjoyment I had anticipated
of again beholding this being so dear, and
who has been the author of my happiness. I
hoped the time would one day arrive when I
could express to him most fully all my grati-
tude. I pictured to myself the surprise I
should cause him in arriving unexpectedly at
his retreat. Now these dreams have all van-
ished, and who knows, my friend, whether I
shall ever see you? I thought of leaving for
him a monument of my gratitude, but per-
haps before I can execute it, my soul will be
reunited to his in another life."

Winckelmann's residence at Rome seems
to have been precisely to his taste ; he thus

16 WINCKELMANN.

writes to a friend : — "It is at Rome that we
find all the treasures of antiquity assembled ;
statues, sarcophagi, busts, inscriptions, &c.
One is at liberty here from morning to even-
ing ; we go without ceremony in a wrapper
(redingote), it is the fashion. There is no
necessity for fire; I am all day with open
windows."

Thus established at Rome, he had arrived at
the accomplishment of his wishes. Furnished
with good letters of recommendation, he very
soon gained friends and protectors ; surround-
ed by the wealth of antiquity, it was easy
for him to augment his knowledge and to
rectify any errors he might have conceived
on the subject ; every thing conspired to de-
velop his talents, his own enthusiasm, and
the spirit of the times. Benedict the Four-
teenth was then Sovereign Pontiff, and the
Cardinals Passionei and Albani were the or-
naments of the pontifical court. Mengs also,
who joined to theory the most profound, prac-
tice the most learned in the arts, encouraged
and directed him.

His first friend, the Nuncio, who induced
him to adopt the Catholic faith, had been
appointed Cardinal, and from that time left
Winckelmann to carve his own fortune, not
even compensating him for the literary ser-

WINCKELMANN. 17

vices he was daily performing for him.
Winckelmann, however, seemed satisfied with
his situation, and thus describes it : — "I am
in the midst of the city, in the vast palace
of the Chancellerie, as if I were in the coun-
try; for this building is so large that I do not
hear the noise of the town, though there is
enough of it, for it is not now, as in the time
of Juvenal, when they had no carriages. As
to my manner of living, it is much the same
as when I was at Nothenitz. I retire early
and rise early ; my health is better than it has
ever been. I eat sometimes too much and I
drink like a German, that is to say, I drink
wine without water."

He passed his first year at Rome in seeing
and contemplating without following any plan,
the study of art being his principal occupa-
tion ; and he arrived at length at an adequate
discrimination between the * modern and the
antique. Among the works which he com-
posed at Rome was a description of the great
masterpieces of antiquity down to his own
times. This was in 1756. His life while at
Rome seems to have passed without vicissi-
tude ; he speaks with rapture of the beauties
of nature, of the charming walks and the
beautiful gardens of Rome, particularly those
of the Villa Borghese. About this time there
2

18 WINCKELMANN.

was a report that Winckelmann had been
killed by a statue. The fact was this. He
entered a court to see a certain statue, and
mounted the pedestal to examine the head,
supposing the whole was fastened as usual by
iron spikes; when he had reached the top,
the statue fell and broke, but fortunately he
escaped injury. He was invited to Florence
by Baron de Stosch, where he remained
some time inspecting different Etruscan mon-
uments. He also visited Naples.

The truest and warmest friend of Winckel-
mann was the Cardinal Albani. The love of
antique art was the passion of these two men.
Similar tastes united them, and levelled the
barrier which fortune had placed between
them. Winckelmann had lived on the mod-
erate pension of one hundred crowns, but
even that had failed from the removal of a
friend, and he enured the service of Cardinal
Albani as librarian and inspector of antiques.
Here he seems to have led a life wholly suited
to his taste. " I have nothing to do," he
writes to a friend, " but to spend the afternoon
with the Cardinal at his superb villa, which
surpasses all the works of our days, including
even the regal palaces. I have four small
apartments, that I order furnished as I please.
The palace is situated in the finest part of

WINCKELMANN. 19

Rome, and I have the noblest view in the
world. From my windows I look upon the
gardens and ruins of Rome and its envi-
rons, and the view extends to the country-
houses of Frascati and Castel Gandolfo. In
this last place the Cardinal has a country-
seat, in addition to his palace on the border
of the sea. During the heat of the summer I
have permission to retire there, where I can
live as I used to . do at Nothenitz. I gaze at
the ocean which bathes the shore, and amuse
myself with counting the vessels. I come
here in the middle of July, and return to

Rome the first of September This

is the spot of my felicity, and here I would
desire to see you. What pleasure it would be
to me to walk with you on the sea-shore and
upon the elevated borders planted with myr-
tles, or to tranquilly contemplate the ocean
swelled into a tempest, under the portico of
the ancient Temple of Fortune, or from the
high balcony of my chamber. A month's
sojourn here, where there is all which art and
nature can make delightful, gives new activity
to the heart and mind, and infinitely surpasses
the vain pomp of courts."

With the advantages which he enjoyed at
Rome and the sentiments he entertained, it is
not surprising that he did not accept the offers

20 , WINCKELMANN.

successively made to him. He was invited to
Vienna, to Berlin, to Dresden, to Brunswick,
to Hanover, and to Gottingen, but he was
too much attached to the free and tranquil life
he led at Rome not to fear a change. Propo-
sitions which were made to him on the part
of the king of Prussia excited some atten-
tion in the public papers. Travellers of dis-
tinction were introduced to Winckelmann,
and sought his direction in viewing the an-
tiquities of Rome. In short he had arrived at
the degree of distinction which he richly de-
served by his works and long devotion to the
study of the fine arts.

His works are translated into French, and
an edition has lately been issued. For a long
time they had not circulated, at least in our
cquntry, and his name was little known ; but
his profound knowledge has made its way, and
imbues most of our treatises on art. It is not
our intention to give any account of his indi-
vidual works, but merely some of the prin-
cipal incidents of his life. His dissertations
on Portici, on Herculaneum, on Pompeii, are
all highly interesting to the antiquarian.

We hasten to the closing events of his
career. He had long determined to visit Ger-
many, and the last letter he wrote on the sub-
ject was dated at Rome, 3d March, 1763. He

WINCKELMANN. 21

set out with M. Cavaceppi, a Roman sculptor.
From a letter written by this gentleman, we
learn that Winckelmann was laboring under
a singular derangement of health of mind or
body. The noble scenery of the Alps seems
to have inspired him with terror, and he re-
peatedly suggested returning to Rome. They
arrived, however, at Augsburg, and thence
proceeded to Munich. At that place Winckel-
mann was treated with the utmost attention,
and received honors proportionable to his
erudition and merit. He also received valua-
ble presents of precious stones with antique
engravings. Nothing, however, dissipated the
gloom which had taken possession of his
mind, and he constantly insisted on return-
ing to Italy. M. Cavaceppi in vain tried to
change his resolution, and at length prevailed
on him to proceed to Vienna. When there,
many of his friends united in trying to per-
suade him to accomplish his intended jour-
ney ; but though he seems to have condemned
his change of purpose, he declared "it was
utterly impossible for him to go to Germany;
that he must return to Rome." His friend
was obliged to leave him. He remained at
Vienna till the beginning of June, and, not-
withstanding the unfortunate state of his
mind, profited by his stay in this city.

22 WINCKELMANN.

Churches, libraries, cabinets, galleries, he visit-
ed, and parted from many friends at Vienna
of the highest rank, loaded with honors and
presents.

He, for some reason not known, directed his
route to Trieste, where he intended to embark
for Ancona. Not far from Trieste he found a
compag-non de voyage with whom he entered
into conversation. This man professed a
most devoted love of the arts, and soon gained
his confidence and intimacy. From the first,
Winckelmann, with the simplicity natural to
him, confided his secrets, exhibited his medals
and precious stones, and told him of the liber-
ality of the court of Vienna, which had pre-
sented him with a purse of gold.

At Ancona be was obliged to wait for a
vessel, and remained alone at the hotel, while
his new friend, Francois Arcangeli, took the
management of affairs, and was to inform
him of the departure of the boat. In the
mean time Winckelmann amused himself with
reading Homer, the only book he had with
him, and also in making additions to. his
History of the Arts, and writing letters to his
friends at Vienna, thanking them for all their
favors. These he meant to send as soon as
he arrived at Rome. But he found a new
pleasure at the hotel, and this was in the

WINCKELMANN. 23

visits and infantile conversation of a little
child, who often made his way into his room.
Winckelmann was much amused and pleased
with the quickness of his repartees, and felt
his spirit brightened by this communion.

On the 8th of June he was writing at his
table, and giving directions to the future
editor who was to publish his work on art ;
it seemed as if there was a presentiment of
some misfortune, from these minute directions.
He was in the midst of this occupation, sit-
ting at his table, when Arcangeli entered,
and told him, with much apparent tenderness,
that he had received intelligence which obliged
him to part from him and go to Venice ; at
the same time requesting to see once more
the beautiful collection of medals, stones, &c.
he had made at Vienna. Winckelmann has-
tened to give him this pleasure, arose and
went to his trunk, kneeling down to unlock it,
when Arcangeli slipped behind him, drew a
cord from his pocket, and attempted to throw
it round the neck of his victim ; the cord did
not pass the chin, and he could not execute
his design of strangling him. Winckelmann,
in this moment of distress, awoke from his
lethargy; danger gave him strength; he seized
the cord with one hand and defended him-
self with the other. The assassin then threw
himself upon him, and plunged his knife into

24 WINCKELMANN.

his breast. He would have finished the deed
on the spot, bat there came a knock at the
door and the little child entered. The assas-
sin took flight, without daring to stop for the
medals and money which had led to his crime.

The unfortunate Winckelmann received
every aid, but the wounds were mortal. He
pardoned his murderer, received the sacra-
ment, dictated his last orders with the utmost
presence of mind, and died in about seven
hours. By the testament of Winckelmann,
his illustrious friend Cardinal Albani was his
chief inheritor. He bequeathed three hundred
sequins to an engraver at Rome, one hundred
to an Abbe, both friends, and ordered twenty
sequins to be distributed to the poor of Trieste.
The assassin was arrested and taken to Trieste,
where he received the punishment of his guilt.
His history was one of crime, as may well be
supposed. He was a native of Pistoia in
Tuscany, had been often arrested, and once
condemned to death, but was pardoned, and
lived to perpetrate this most horrible murder.

The bitter sorrow of the friends of Winckel-
mann and the eulogies bestowed upon his
memory, may all be read in the history of
his life. The loss which science and the
fine arts received has been felt even to the
present day.

FAMILIAR SKETCHES

OP

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

CHAPTER I.

EGYPTIAN ART.

IT is natural to suppose that some attempts
at imitation of familiar forms were made at
the earliest period. When the Most High
created man, he gave the first form for sculp-
ture in the artist himself. Around him he
displayed the models and laid the materials
of the art. Not only were there forms of
beauty, but substances which could be carved
or moulded into their likenesses, from the duc-
tile clay to stone capable of delicate carving,
and metals which heat would fuse, and which
could be combined in every shape.

The same might be said of painting ; but
to produce colors suitable for imitating the
beautiful and delicate tints of nature, required
much research and many experiments.

No doubt, the first efforts at sculpture were
rude and barbarous. But these were the ear-
liest essays of the tendency of the human
mind, which ripened into the genius of Phi-

28 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

dias. We can now only imagine what they
were, as no specimens are preserved.

Our acquaintance with the sculptured mon-
uments of Egypt is comparatively recent.
The accidental discovery of the Rosetta stone
by a party of French troops that accom-
panied Napoleon Bonaparte in his expedi-
tion to Egypt, has proved of great impor-
tance. Though a 'mutilated block of basalt,
it was covered with hieroglyphics, which have
been ably deciphered. The Rosetta river, near
the Nile, where it was found, has given its
name to the stone. After the capitulation of
the French troops, it passed into the posses-
sion of the English, and was finally trans-
ferred to the British Museum.

For the preservation of this mutilated pil-
lar we are probably indebted to the savans
and artists who accompanied the Emperor,
but we owe to the Society of Antiquaries in
England an interpretation of the mysterious
characters. From the laborious researches of
the ablest scholars, a key has been afforded,
through the Rosetta stone, to the still exist-
ing monuments of Egypt; — other inscriptions
have been rendered intelligible, and we are
made acquainted with the names and attri-
butes of the native Pharaohs, who lived nine-
teen hundred years before the Christian era.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 29

The Tablet of Abydos, discovered in the
year 1818, by Sir William Bankes, is anoth-
er curious monument of Egyptian antiquity.
This is also in the British Museum.

If we allow our imagination to wander
back to the earliest period of creation, there is
no limit to its conceptions. The first children
who played in snow may have moulded it
into shapes, as we often see them do now. I
remember in my school days, after an unusual
fall of snow, that the boys and girls built
up from this transient material an image
which they christened George Washington.
I know not why the earlier children of the
race may not have shaped the snows of
Caucasus, and called their figures Adam or
Noah. They certainly would have made as
faithful a representation of their heroes, as
did those children whose feat has just been
recorded.

Mention is made of graven images in Exo-
dus, in Kings, in Samuel, and in Numbers.
Hiram of Tyre was employed by Solomon
to decorate the Temple. We can form an
idea of its glories from the minute description
given in Kings of the cherubim, whose wings
extended over the ark of the covenant; of the
silver and gold and costly stones, and pillars
of brass eighteen cubits high, and the chains

30 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

and the network, the altar of gold, the table
of gold, and the candlesticks of gold. No
relic remains of this glorious work of Jewish
art, save a cup and a table of show-bread, a
bas-relief upon the Arch of Titus in Rome.

Among the kingdoms mentioned in sacred
history are Nineveh and Babylon. Diodorus
Siculus describes the statues of Belus, Ninus,
and Semiramis. Ninus was the son of Belus,
and king of Assyria. He ascended the thrflne
two thousand and forty-eight years before
Christ. He was a warlike prince, and distin-
guished himself by extensive conquests over
the whole of Upper and Lower Asia. In one
of his expeditions he met with Semiramis,
the famous queen of Assyria, and married
her. Returning from his conquests, he found-
ed the city of Nineveh. The Hebrew writers
speak .of Nineveh, Jonah in particular, as
an exceeding great city, and as containing
" more than twelve thousand who did not
know their right hand from their left." This
gives us a forcible idea of their state of
ignorance and darkness.

Ninus does not appear to have had a long
life. After his death Semiramis possessed
sovereign power, and probably determined to
immortalize her name. She founded the city
of Babylon, visited every part of her dominions,

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 31

and left everywhere monuments of her great-
ness ; levelling mountains, filling up valleys,
and forming aqueducts to convey water to bar-
ren and unfruitful soil. She erected a monu-
ment to Belus, and built a large and costly
mausoleum over the grave of Ninus. It may
well be supposed that a queen so powerful
would call forth the capacity and resources
of her subjects. She employed two millions
of men in building Babylon. We read of
brazen statues of Belus, of Ninus, and of
Semiramis.

The late work of Mr. Laya?d, "Nineveh
and its Remains," has made us acquainted
with the achievements of art in Assyria. The
discovery of colossal heads, particularly the
first one, which the Arabs pronounced " Nim-
rod himself," is described as a noble speci-
men of Assyrian art, the expression calm and
majestic, and in admirable preservation, the
head placed on the body of a winged lion
similar to others before discovered at Khorsa-
bad and Persepolis. The 'following beautiful
passage is transcribed for those who may not
have the book at hand : —

" I used to contemplate for hours these mys-
terious emblems (the winged lions), and muse
over their intent and history. What more
noble forms could have ushered the people

32 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

into the temple of their gods ? What more
sublime images could have been borrowed
from nature by men who sought, unaided by
the light of revealed religion, to embody their
conceptions of the Supreme Being? They
could have no better type of intellect and
knowledge, than the head of a man ; of
strength, than the body of a lion ; of rapidity
of motion, than the wings of the bird. Those
winged human lions were not idle creations,
the offspring of mere fancy; their meaning
was written upon them ; they had awed and
instructed races who had flourished three
thousand years ago. Through the portals
which they guarded, kings, priests, and war-
riors had borne sacrifice to their altars before
the wisdom of the East had penetrated
Greece and had furnished its mythology with
symbols long recognized by the Assyrian vota-
ries. They may have been buried and their
existence unknown centuries before the founV
dation of the Eternal City (Rome). For
twenty-five hundred years they had been hid-
den from the eye of man, and they now stood
forth once more in their ancient majesty. But
how changed was the scene around them!
The luxury and civilization of a mighty na-
tion had given place to a few half-barbarous
tribes. The wealth of temples and the riches

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 33

of great cities had been succeeded by rising
and shapeless heaps of earth. Above the
spacious hall in which they stood the plough
had passed, and the com now waved. Egypt
has monuments no less ancient, and no less
wonderful; but they have stood forth from
early ages to testify her early power and re-
nown, whilst those before me had but now
appeared to bear witness to the words of the
prophet: —

"'The Assyrian was like a cedar of Leba-
non, with fair branches, and with a shadowy
shroud, and of a high stature, and his top was

among the thick boughs ; his height

was exalted above all the trees of the field ;
under his shadow dwelt all great na-
tions. But now is Nineveh a desolation and
dry like a wilderness ; flocks lie down in the
midst of her; all the beasts of the nations,
both the cormorant and the bittern, lodge in
the upper lintels of it ; their voice sings in
the windows, and desolation is in the thresh-
olds.'"

This opening before us of the relics of an-
tiquity, of the awful forms and lovely sem-
blances which were gazed on by generations
buried in oblivion, antecedent even to history,
fills us with a solemn astonishment, which is
increased when we percieve the fulfilment of
3

34 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

prophecy in the desolation which has swept
over the places of their glory.

Herodotus asserts that the Egyptians erected
the first altars and temples to the gods. But
the earliest monuments of sacred art wear little
likeness to the form divine. In early times,
indeed, men worshipped the Deity under the
symbols of blocks, of stones, and rude pillars,
sometimes grotesquely carved. The images
of Baal were pillars. The " Teraphim " of
the Hebrews we have no reason to believe
had any human shape. By the Greeks and
Romans sacred images were erected, and
among them, probably, a personification of
creation ; for though the simple imitation of
natural objects is the first attempt of art,
when associated with religious ideas, it soon
rises to the symbolic and superhuman.

In the very ancient Indian temples statues
have been found, as the colossal statue of
Brahma in the temple of Elephantis, near
Bombay. This figure is a man having the
moon and stars carved on his left breast, the
syn on the right ; the female form is also ex-
hibited, and water, animals, and plants. It
was probably a personification of creation.

Enough remains of Egyptian sculpture to
give an idea of the degree of taste and me-
chanical skill to which it attained. It has

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 35

been asserted that the Egyptians were des-
titute of the elements of ideal beauty. Their
representations, except those of gods, are for
the most part historical. It might seem, at
first sight, that they had never been touched
by the inspiration of genius. The ancient
bas-reliefs are apparently wide departures
from nature. But to form a just apprecia-
tion of any national style of art, or indeed,
of any work belonging to other times and
other people, we should consider it from a
different point of view than that ordinarily
taken ; and no one can study attentively the
specimens of old Egyptian art which have
been handed down to us, without a feeling of
awe at the striking proofs of master hands,
whose genius and skill have defied the
changes of time and decay. Four or five
thousand years have passed away since faces
were carved, whose expression is still as
touching and beautiful as on the day they
were made. If they do not arrive, in their
statues, at our ideas of beauty, we ought
not, perhaps, on that account, to conclude
that their deviations from them were not con-
ventional, and regulated by their style or
school of art. The fact that they had artists
capable of carving faces of such exquisite
beauty, which have been preserved to our

36 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

own times, is sufficient to show that they had
power to separate the arms from the body,
and the lower limbs from each other.

Winckelmann divides Egyptian sculpture
into three periods. The first includes the
time which elapsed from the origin of the
Egyptians to the reign of Cambyses, five
hundred and twenty-six years before Christ,
or, as they were accustomed to reckon, in the
sixty-second Olympiad ; this is the ancient
epoch. The middle embraces the period dur-
ing which Egypt was under the dominion of
the Persians and the Greeks ; and the third
the style of imitation about the time of
Hadrian. Subsequently Winckelmann ex-
tended his first period to the establishment
of the Greeks under Alexander arid his suc-
cessors. Other antiquaries have arranged
Egyptian art into five periods, but the divis-
ion already given serves all the purposes of
elucidation, and seems most simple and natu-
ral. We will only add, that the first is the
era of original and native sculpture ; the
second that of mixed or Greek and Egyptian
sculpture ; and the third the era of imitative
sculpture.

When we speak of the earliest Egyptian
statues, it is well to understand what they
were, lest our imaginations should mislead

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 37

us, and represent some of the beautiful Gre-
cian forms with which we are now familiar.

The ancient statues were sometimes made
of wood. Besides this, four kinds of mate-
rial were employed in the early works of the
Egyptians : one, soft, a species of sandstone ;
the second, a calcareous rock, used for tombs
and monuments ; the third, basalt of various
shades, most suitable for small statues; the
fourth was granite of a reddish hue; it was
often dark and contained crystals of spar.
The ancient head of Memnon, in the British
Museum, is made of dark granite, with black
spots. This is a splendid head, and excites
our wonder. Metals were not much used,
except for what we now call statuettes ; these
were made of basalt, or a substance resembling
bronze. Every age and every country has fur-
nished materials for this instructive art, which,
though progressive, has only attained any
high degree of perfection by imitating nature.
The arms in the oldest Egyptian statues were
marked out from the sides, but with no at-
tempt to separate them from the body. The
lower limbs were not divided, and the feet
were carved together. A straight column or
pillar was left behind from the head down-
wards, probably to give strength to the statue
as well as to save labor. Small images an-

38 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

swering this description are found buried in
the tombs of mummies of distinction; they
are made of porcelain or terra-cotta. Their
colossal figures were carved from granite, and
claim the first place. The Sphinx, near the
great Pyramid, rises twenty feet high, though
two thirds buried in sand. We are told of
two of these immense statues, one at Mem-
phis, the other at Sais, which were seventy
feet long.

The stupendous palace of Carnac has yet
colossal remains of pillars and statues. Of
these mighty labors, some are hewn from the
rock where they stood. Such is the Sphinx
near Girzeh. There is something truly mag-
nificent in converting these living rocks to
mighty giants, casting their dark shadows
.around them.

It was undoubtedly a sentiment of religious
devotion which first induced the Egyptians to
erect altars, shrines, and temples to the gods ;
and what could be so expressive to them of
power, as magnitude. In these immense
statues there is said to be often a lofty repose,
a grand and solemn majesty, which impressed
the most uncultivated.

The Egyptians are said to have made no
progress in what we call grace. The ancient
artists considered their works finished before

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 39

they arrived at our standard of beauty. Art
was austere, like the manners and even the
laws of the age, which punished with death
the smallest crime. This severity extended to
their sculpture. The priesthood forbade any
innovation in the human figure on any sub-
jects they considered holy. This must have
greatly fettered the arts. Sculptors were not
allowed to copy nature; every model was
closely draped ; strict rules were laid downr
and there could be but little progress. The
priest and the warrior were only distinguished
by their different dresses. They seem to have
had no idea of perspective or grouping. They
were, however, more successful in animals.
In some of the Theban temples battles are
carved in bas-relief with spirit; this is princi-
pally owing to the often admirable representa-
tion of cars and horses ; but a king is some-
times represented twice as large as his sub-
jects, and his head much too large for his
body.

Pottery was an important feature in their
domestic arts, and it seems strange that they
made the human figure so devoid of grace,
when they excelled so much in vases, tripods,
baskets, and household utensils. Those who
have made ancient Egypt a study have as-
serted that at the present day we have hardly

40 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

improved on them in the form of vases, seats,
and many similar articles of common use.

Among the variety of statues and groups
of figures which have been discovered, the
execution is nearly on an equality, and all
seem to be copies from a fixed model. We
have the name of but one Egyptian sculptor,
and that is Memnon ; he made three statues,
which were placed at the entrance of a tem-
ple of Thebes, one of them the largest ever
known in Egypt.

Among the obstructions to progress in
Egyptian art was their ignorance of anatomy ;
they paid a superstitious respect to the dead,
and would have considered any anatomical
inspection as the vilest sacrilege. The neces-
sary incisions for the preservation of their
mummies were prescribed by law, and the
operators, who were a professional set of men,
were considered as barbarians. If there were
any deviations detected, if the incisions for
abstracting the entrails were larger than the
law prescribed, the unfortunate operator was
obliged to conceal himself from the rage of
the relatives, who followed him with maledic-
tions and even showers of stones.

It has been observed that there was a close
resemblance between the sculpture of the
earliest Egyptians and their mummies. We

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 41

cannot but feel curious to know the motives
which induced them to embalm their dead.
On this subject our knowledge must be deduc-
tive. Not one of these honored specimens,
however admirably preserved, tells its own
history ; we can only judge of their high
claims by the situation in which they are
found, and by the sometimes regal jewels
which surround them; but when they are
unrolled and exhibited naked, they are all
equally hideous, and a revolting perpetuation
of death.

The scrupulous manner in which they are
preserved seems to indicate that a close con-
nection was supposed to exist between the
body and the soul. Some have maintained
that it was hoped to induce the soul to remain
in its earthly prison for the term of three
thousand years, instead of passing out into
different animals, according to the doctrine of
transmigration. The body of an ancestor
was sometimes given as a pledge, and it was
considered the most sacred of all duties to re-
deem it.

Another reason given is, that they sup-
posed the soul was to be judged in the
body, and considered it all important that it
should be identified with its former residence.
After the advancement which the cultivated

42 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

races have made in religion, the body is
thought light of, and Christianity teaches that
it is only to be regarded as the temporary
vehicle of the soul, left to moulder when its
spiritual inhabitant emigrates to a higher ex-
istence ; so, when life is extinct, the body is
buried that it may be out of sight and forgot-
ten. Not so those men of old ; to them the
form was the man. In that figure was he to
peregrinate through the spheres ; and to pre-
serve that figure they struggled with the ten-
dencies of nature, and defeated, in some
measure, its decay, by their curious and re-
volting processes.

The Egyptians were a gloomy and grave
people, and considered the kingdom of the
dead more real than that of the living. It is
gratifying to find that every nation, however
barbarous, had its visions of another exist-
ence. It is not a deduction of reasoning; it
is not a doctrine of the priesthood ; but it is
a rational instinct of life.

There is a more simple and natural reason
alleged for the Egyptian custom of embalm-
ing the dead: there was no soil in which
they could bury them. The rocks denied a
grave; the sands of the desert afforded no
protection from wild beasts ; the fertile valley
was annually inundated in all its parts, and

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 43

to have deposited their dead in it under such
circumstances, so far from affording the bodies
an asylum, might have produced a pesti-
lence. The first overflowing of the mighty
Nile would probably have disinterred them.
A secure refuge for the dead was not to be
found in peaceful shades ; the rocks must
first be excavated, and there the body pre-
served.

44 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

CHAPTER II.

EGYPTIAN AND GRECIAN MYTHOLOGY.—
SKETCH OF DJEDALUS.

SCULPTURE is so mixed with both Egyptian
and Grecian mythology, that it may be well
to give a slight sketch of them.

Osiris the sun, and Isis the moon, with
Hermes, were the three most important gods
of the ancient Egyptians, and were at one
time induced to descend to the earth to be-
stow blessings on its inhabitants.

Osiris taught them how to make instru-
ments of agriculture, and also their use, — how
to harness the ox to the plough. He gave
them the fruits of the field. Isis first showed
them the use of wheat and barley, but Osiris
how to cultivate and turn them to domestic
purposes. He also gave them laws, the insti-
tution of marriage, and taught them the wor-
ship of the gods.

After having filled the valley of the Nile
with peace and plenty, he went forth to be-
stow his blessings on the rest of the world.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 45

He conquered the nations everywhere, not
with warlike weapons, but with music and
eloquence. In his brother Typhon he found
a mortal enemy. Isis, who governed in the
absence of her husband, Osiris, strove to frus-
trate his brother's plans. He was finally mur-
dered by Typhon, but was still considered the
tutelar deity of the Egyptians, and his soul
was supposed to inhabit the body of the bull
Apis.

As bulls are not immortal, it was necessary
to make a transfer of the soul from one individ-
ual to another. It was required that he should
be a perfectly black animal, with a white spot
on his forehead, and other peculiar marks. As
soon as such a one was found, he was placed
in a building facing the east, where for four
months he was fed with milk ; at the expira-
tion of this term the priests repaired to his
habitation and saluted him with much cere-
mony as Apis.

The bull was then placed in a vessel mag-
nificently decorated, and conducted down the
Nile to Nilopolis, where he was again fed for
forty days. During this period only women
were admitted to his presence. After certain
ceremonies he was conducted to Memphis,
where his inauguration was concluded and a
temple and courts assigned him. Sacrifices

46 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

were made to him, and once in every year,
when the Nile arose, a golden cup was thrown
into the river. Oxen were immolated to him.
The term of his life was limited to twenty-
five years. At that age he was drowned in
the sacred cistern, and the whole land was
filled with sorrow and lamentation, till a suc-
cessor was found.

The flower of the lotus was a prominent
symbol; it was a sacred plant among the
Egyptians, and considered an emblem of the
world as it emerged from the deep. Gods
and goddesses ascended out of its cup, and
the people drew moral lessons from it.

A great variety of sacred vessels were used.
The science of astronomy was better under-
stood by the Egyptian priests than by those
of any other nation. A picture of the zodiac
was found on the ceiling of one of the most
ancient temples, and all the signs of the zodiac
were there faithfully delineated.

The idea of a future state was closely con-
nected with astronomy. The Egyptians be-
lieved in the immortality of the soul, and in
its partial emigration. It is remarkable that
what our Christian divines are endeavoring
to instil into our minds, — the trifling value
of the present life compared with the future, —
was familiar to the ancient Egyptians. They

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 47

valued a good conscience because it could
be carried into another life. Their dwellings
and houses were unimportant in their view,
and much slighted in the building. The
tombs were the real dwelling-houses, and
great expense was lavished on them. They
believed in judgment after death ; that before
the soul could enter the peaceful realms of
the departed, it must be judged by Osiris,
and rewarded or punished according to the
deeds done in the body.

Zeus was the Jupiter Ammon of the
Greeks. Hera was the Juno, and Iris her
messenger. The gods of Olympus were the
superior deities. Besides the superior deities,
there were gods of the winds, gods of the
water, gods of the mountains, forests, and
fields. Then came the goddesses of time ;
also the Graces and the Muses.

The belief in the existence of the soul
after death belonged to the Greeks. The
abodes of departed spirits were in the centre
of the earth, divided into two regions ; Ely-
sium, the place of reward, and Tartarus, the
place of punishment. Souls were escorted by
Hermes down to the lower world to the river
Styx ; over this they were rowed by Charon,
the ferryman of the region. He was a cross
old man, and rowed every soul to Hades

48 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

that was permitted to enter his leaky boat,
for two oboli, — a small Greek coin. When
landed on the opposite shore, the souls
passed through a cavern in which Cerberus
kept watch. From this there was no return.
Here Minos passed judgment, whether they
should be admitted to Elysium or condemned
to Tartarus. The former was filled with
music, flowers, and enchanting views ; the
latter was a place of punishment. In Ely-
sium flowed the crystal waters of Lethe ; in
Tartarus the fiery stream Phlegethon. Those
whom Minos sent thither were taken before
a second judge, Rhadamanthus, who pro-
nounced their penalty.

Egypt may well be compared to her own
Isis. There is the coldness and mystery with
which the shadow of the moon invests every
object. Art in Egypt was often simple and
majestic, like her pyramids, or bold and eccen-
tric, like her sphinxes : solemn and grand,
but never beautiful, never filling the soul with
soft and gentle emotions.

The connection between Egyptian and
Grecian mythology was remote, and we find
great differences. The Greeks worshipped
beautiful forms, which they called divine ; the
Egyptians worshipped animals which sym-
bolized to them power or the mysteries of

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 49

divine life. As we leave the twilight realm
of Egypt and emerge into the light of Greece,
we are cheered by the spirit of nature, and
the eye is delighted by forms of beauty.

We have hitherto been travelling in the
mists of antiquity ; but from the conquest of
Egpyt the arts begin to take a more definite
form. A new nation — inhabiting a region
of beauty and possessing forms of physical
grandeur affording the finest models to the
statuary — presses forward, endowed with the
all-commanding power of genius.

The American heart throbs at the mention
of Greece, which in the earlier ages bore
some resemblance in its constitution and gov-
ernment to our own ; for liberty there estab-
lished her seat, even near the throne of kings.
Homer styles Agamemnon the pastor of the
people, and ancient authors assert that lib-
erty was the source and foundation of the
grandeur of Athens.

The influence of liberty on the arts has
been fully demonstrated. Industry, invention,
and ingenuity flourish under its fostering
hand. The Greeks were eager to distinguish
artists, and honored the works of genius.
Egyptian sculptors were invited to Athens,
and treated with a deference they had never
before experienced. This excited ambition
4

50 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

and gave a new stimulus to effort; and the
age of Daedalus formed a new epoch in the
art of sculpture.

The principal states of Greece in which the
arts most flourished were Sicyon, .ZEgina,
Corinth, and Athens ; these were commercial
states. It has been supposed that the Persian
conquests produced some effect on Egyptian
art; but this did not extend to sculpture,
which the Egyptians prohibited, as opposed
to their religion. They had their architecture
and temples. Persepolis, to which we have
before alluded, the residence of the Persian
monarchs, and which is styled the Palace of
a Thousand Columns, was the wonder of an-
cient Asia. But while the Chaldeans bowed
to their Seraphim, the Egyptians to their
colossal Sphinxes, the Grecians to their Pan-
demonium of ideal grace and beauty, the Per-
sians looked with a steady eye to the bright
luminary of day. Fire was their deity, and
they worshipped no idols of wood or stone.

The works of Daedalus were extant in the
time of Pausanias, and though this author
says they were rude, yet he admits that they
breathed an air of divinity, and there was a
general improvement ; his style of action and
nature was adopted. Sculptors, though per-
haps but little more than carvers, were solici-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 51

tons to make their statues resemble men and
women. There were many artists who bore
the name of Daedalus, but only one who dis-
tinguished himself. Endoeus the Athenian
was one of his disciples. Smilis of .^Egina
was another.

Wood, plaster, and clay were among the
earliest materials used by the Greeks. The
olive-wood was used for statues of Minerva,
and the famous statue of Venus was formed
from the myrtle. Ivory and gold were appro-
priated later. We know with certainty that
these were employed by Phidias, and also that
one of his noblest statues was made in bronze.

Three generations before the Trojan war,
a young man, born of a royal race, becomes
known to us, by the name of Daedalus. Hith-
erto the genius of art had been confined
within very narrow limits, and led by arbi-
trary rules. To the Egyptians, we have seen,
it had never been revealed that nature was
the true model of sculpture ; or if revealed,
their artists labored under restraints which
prevented them from' rising to those ideas of
beauty to which the Greeks subsequently
attained. Even in Greece the art long felt
the fetters, which Daedalus at last came to
break. There is an uncertainty about the
birthplace of Daedalus, but he is usually

52 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OP * .

styled the Athenian, and his history is closely
connected with that of Theseus, the great
hero of antiquity.

The life of Theseus is mixed up with fable,
which it is difficult to separate from reality.
His father ^Egeus was for a long time child-
less, and, despairing of having an heir, gave
out that the three sons of Pallas were to be
his successors. When Theseus was born,
and he had the happiness of embracing a son
of his own, he resolved to keep his birth secret,
thinking the life of the infant in danger from
the designs of Pallas. He therefore sent him
to Troezene to be educated, leaving the world
to suppose that he was still childless.

For many years Theseus was ignorant of his
claims, but when made acquainted with them,
he hastened to Athens. There is much fiction
mingled with his marvellous journey ; but he
arrived safe. His dangers, however, were not
over. The children of Pallas attempted his
life, and he challenged and slew them. For
the wonderful deeds he achieved, we must
seek his history. But * he now interests us
only as the friend and patron of Daedalus.

There seems to have been a close intimacy
formed between these two men when young,
and a strong similarity of character in the at-
tempt and accomplishment of daring projects.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 53

Daedalus was well calculated to transplant the
arts and laws of Crete to Athens ; and this
was the favorite project of Theseus.

Hitherto we have hardly found a form of
flesh among the mythical authorities of the
arts of antiquity ; but on Daedalus we fix as an
historical personage. The people of Athens
hailed him as a deity ; he was extolled by
poets and artists, received as the companion
of the king, and respected by the nobility.

With the conception inspired by nature and
his own original genius, he walked among the
statues of the Egyptians, so much resembling
their own mummies, with disgust. " I will
chisel statues," said he, " which shall move."

He shut himself up in his workshop, and
refused to admit any spectator; — even the
king was excluded, who patiently yielded to
the tyranny of his favorite. At length 'the
day was announced when the result of his
labor was to be exhibited, and the doors were
thrown open.

A statue far larger than life stood with one
foot forward, the arms disengaged, and in a
natural attitude, the eyes carved with a life-
like expression, and the lips gently parted.
Nothing could surpass the enthusiasm of the
beholders. Many of the common people be-
lieved that it walked, and a report arose that
Daedalus made statues which moved.

54 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

It became the custom to call all statues ex-
ecuted in this spirit Daedali, and his name
was adopted as implying skill. His disciples
were called his sons. He did not confine
himself to sculpture, — his genius branched
out into useful inventions. The augur, the
file, and the axe are said to have originated
with him ; also masts and yards of ships.

Daedalus, who nursed ambition, appeared
now to have attained the gratification of suc-
cess. Athens had begun to be the distin-
guished resort of artists, and he not only stood
first among them, but was the chosen friend
of the far-famed Theseus. v

The appetite of ambition grows rapidly on
the food which nourishes it. That of the
artist became inordinate. He assumed some-
thing like regal pomp, and even affected to
smile at the criticisms of Theseus, with too
evident an expression of superiority.

The monarch bore all this with his usual
magnanimity, considering only the prosperity
of the arts, and willing to sacrifice much for
his beloved Athens. The courtiers were less
patient The popularity of the artist began
to diminish, and it became the earnest wish
of the nobles to humble him. But this object
they could not have accomplished, had not
Daedalus assisted them by his own miscon-
duct.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 55

Amongst his pupils there was one by the
name of Talus. It has been asserted by some
historians that this youth was his nephew. It
is not generally supposed so, but that he was
a boy brought by his father from Sicyon. Be
that as it may, he was a pupil of Daedalus,
first working as an assistant. He early dis-
played uncommon talents, and became a fa-
vorite with the people. Nature had bestowed
upon him grace of manners and a winning
deportment.

For a long time he was contented to be an
assistant to the artist, but at length the fire of
his own genius began to kindle, and he ob-
tained leave to carve a statue to be placed in
the Acropolis of Athens. When completed
and exhibited, it proved a surprising work of
art, and the enemies of Daedalus, created by
his insolence and assumption, gladly embraced
the opportunity of mortifying the master, and
affected to prefer it to the statues of Dsedalus.

The great master well knew it was inferior
to his own work, and that it had merely the
merit of an excellent imitation ; but he could
not disguise from himself that it gave evidence
of superior future talent. " He is young, and
when I am declining, the splendor of his
genius will blaze forth." Thus he reasoned.
Applause bestowed on another excited bitter

56 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

feelings. He became gloomy and morose,
and cast glances of envy and malice upon the
young artist.

Suddenly Talus disappeared ; several days
passed, and he was not to be found. Every
measure was taken by the people to ascertain
the cause of his absence. At length circum-
stances transpired which led them to suppose
he had been unfairly dealt with ; by degrees,
suspicion pointed to Daedalus. It seemed in-
credible, but the popular clamor became loud.
Orders were issued for his arrest ; but before
the arm of justice could seize him, he made
his escape.

We next hear of him at Crete. Probably
Daedalus protested his innocence, and the
king was willing to receive him without any
investigation. He had before resided there,
and Minos knew his wonderful powers.

The artist devoted himself to the embellish-
ment of Crete. He there built the famous
Labyrinth, and also composed the beautiful
group of dancers for Ariadne, to which Homer
alludes.

It is not precisely known by what means
he lost the favor of the king ; perhaps by the
same insolence and assumption that he had
discovered at Athens ; or, if he was indeed
guilty of the murder of Talus, a second crime

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 57

equally great might have followed. But he
was imprisoned by Minos with his son in the
very Labyrinth he had constructed. From
this prison he contrived their escape. Fable
says he made wings which were fastened to
their shoulders, and that they "were composed
of wax and feathers. They both took flight
together ; but Icarus, the son, soared so high
that his wings were melted by the heat of
the sun, and he fell into the sea which is
called the Icarian Sea, affording a moral and
a caution to all ambitious young men. Dae-
dalus, however, is represented to have man-
aged very well with his, and alighted safely at
Cumae.

The inhabitants received him, it is said, with
great delight, and Cocalus, who reigned at
that time, loaded him with honors. He pro-
duced wonderful works of skill, and the inhab-
itants built a temple in honor of him, styling
him the Apollo. Diodorus Siculus, who lived
about forty years before Christ, says that
many of his works were ttfen in existence.
His statues were generally wrought in wood,
and much larger than life, and though not
finished sculptures, were remarkable for bold-
ness and action. Minos, irritated by the loss
of Daedalus, and by the benefit he was render-
ing Cumae, declared war upon Cocalus for

58 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

sheltering him ; and it is supposed that the
king had him basely assassinated to secure
the peace of the realm.

It is obvious enough that fable has dealt
with this history, and that much of it is what
we should term mythical, that is to say, fact
enlarged by admiration into fiction. The
story of Daedalus is noticed for the important
place he holds in the history of sculpture, and
is only valuable as marking the progress of the
the art. The fable of the wings undoubtedly
arose from his invention of the sails of ships,
which, in comparison with the slow way in
which boats moved at that time by oars, might
well be considered, when furnished with sails,
as flying over the ocean, and bearing the father
and son from their prison.

The name of Daedalus, as before observed,
is indeed a common one ; but inferiors must
not be confounded with this great master and
mighty personage of fable.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 59

CHAPTER III.

GR^ECO-EGYPTIAN ART. — DIBUTADES AND
CALLIKHOE.

WHETHER the history of Daedalus is con-
sidered allegorical or not, it is important, as
we have before observed, as showing the prog-
ress of sculpture from Egyptian to Graeco-
Egyptian. His pupils followed in his foot-
steps. Endoeus made a statue of Minerva,
which was placed in the Acropolis of Athens.
He and Epeus were fellow-artists ; the latter
made the famous Wooden Horse; together
they sculptured the throne of Penelope.

The Ionian school began to flourish, and
the islands on the coast of Asia Minor, Sa-
mos and Chios, sent forth their artists.

Telecleus and Theodorus are mentioned by
Pausanias for their works in wood and ivory ;
but, above all, we are indebted to the Chian
school for our works in marble. Malas was
said to be the founder of this school, and
first discovered the applicability of marble to
statues.

FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Dipoenus and Scyllis belonged to the school
of Sicyon, of which Dibutades was said to be
the founder.

Of this humble artist and his ingenious
daughter, whose names are handed down to
us, it is well to give a more minute account,
since to her invention is ascribed the first out-
line of the human face, taken from life.

We would not willingly pass by unnoticed
an art, which, however simple, owed its ori-
gin to the strength and tenderness of female
affection.

Dibutades resided in Sicyonia. His sim-
ple dwelling, unadorned by any species of ar-
chitecture, possessed one of the pleasantest
aspects in this beautiful country, which ex-
tended along the Corinthian Gulf, and, though
small in territory, was one of the most impor-
tant states of Greece.

Dibutades claimed no merit but as a hum-
ble potter, yet he was considered the first man
of his profession. Every morning the results
of his labor were arranged on shelves before
his house, one above another. Before evening,
the shelves were usually left vacant by pur-
chasers, for his pottery was not only all-
important to his countrymen, but had be-
come an article of commerce with the other
states.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 61

No household utensils were to be compared
in strength and usefulness to those of Dibu-
tades ; and even vases and jars resembling
those of Egyptian art were mingled in the
daily exhibition. The more elaborate vases
were filled with choice flowers, the freshest
roses, yet dripping with the dew of morning.
This was the office of his daughter, the youth-
ful Callirhoe. She was now old enough to
supply the place of her mother in all those
nameless attentions which give a charm to
domestic life. Her mother was of Egyptian
parentage, and partook of the genius of her
nation. While the gentle daughter was like
the sparkling sunbeam on the water, the
mother resembled the moon, the Isis of her
own ancestors, casting a still and mysterious
light on every object. For eighteen years she
had been the true and faithful companion of
her husband, and had toiled with him through
poverty and privation; but now he was rich,
— rich for a humble potter, — and Callirhoe
added the grace and symmetry of her per-
son to a circle already wearing the charm of
genius and affection.

Her beauty had been remarked, and the
watchful mother observed that the young men
of Sicyon were the first in the morning to
gaze upon the vases and early flowers. Poor

62 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Callirhoe ! She who loved so much the pure
air of the morning, who hung her basket
on her arm and selected from it the fairest
flowers to fill the vases, who seemed to
imbibe new health and happiness as the
breezes played on her cheek, was now forbid-
den to go out without a thick veil, which not
only covered her face, but draped her whole
figure. The admiring crowds no longer be-
held a Grecian Euphrosyne, but an Egyptian
Isis, gliding by them.

One morning it was observed that there
was no collection of pottery, no vases of roses,
no purple anemones bursting from their buds ;
the doors of the cottage were closed, and the
little verandah silent and dark.

It was a strange, gloomy sight without, but
far more gloomy within. The faithful wife,
the tender and watchful Egyptian mother, lay
on the bed of death. On one side sat the
husband supporting her head on his arm, on
the other knelt the daughter pressing and em-
bracing the feverish hands.

" Speak to me, mother," she exclaimed,
" say that you know me." There was no
answer; the dull stupor of death rested on
that mother's brow, on her closed eyes and
parched lips. Fever in sudden and desperate
form had entered this quiet dwelling.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 63

For hours the group were immovable, only
now and then wetting the parched lips of the'
sufferer. At length they moved, and a low
sound issued from them. " Husband ! daugh-
ter ! " she murmured.

"Thank the gods!" said Callirhoe ; "she
will Live ! she will live ! "

" No, my child ! I am called, I must leave
thee. But I shall live again. I know not
how, but I feel that there is another life ; there
is something in me that will not die."

" O my dear wife ! " said Dibutades, " fear
not ; thou shalt be preserved as thy ancestors
are. Would that thy Egyptian priests were
here to talk of a future life ! but fear not, thou
shalt be embalmed as thy fathers were."

" Waste not thy time," said she, " on this
useless body. I enjoin thee to lay it in the
earth. It is decaying and worthless. Give
to the Egyptians, my ancestors, their useless
care of the body, — let them preserve it; but
I feel there is something beyond, something
that will not die with it. My breath is de-
parting, my words are confused. I feel that
we shall meet again. My soul will still live ;
perhaps it may never leave thee."

She spoke no more ; the former torpor came
over her. Once she smiled. "Ah!" said
Callirhoe, " she said truly ; she lives ! her soul
is with us ! "

66 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OP

girl daily, without the veil which her mother
had obliged her to wear in the streets. Cal-
lirhoe, on her part, enjoyed the satisfaction
of associating with a companion of her own
age. She had expected to find him unskilled
and uneducated, but to her surprise he be-
came her instructor. He taught her the theory
of^the earth, the ebb and flow of the tides,
the phenomena of the sun and stars, and
would fain have added other sciences, such as
mathematics and geometry ; but she had no
taste for abstruse studies, which did not ap-
peal to her eyes, her ears, or her heart. He
played upon the reed, a sort of flute, and
adapted it to the voice of the young girl.
Even the melancholy father was wont to lis-
ten, and think they discoursed sweet melody.
Gradually his mind awoke to enjoyment, and
he began to recover his energy and spirit.

The pottery, which had declined, now re-
sumed its celebrity; again the shelves were
filled with jars and vases, laden with fresh
flowers. The humble dwelling wore its wont-
ed cheerful aspect, and Callirrhoe felt as if
her mother lived again.

For several hours in the day Evander work-
ed in the pottery, then he absented himself till
twilight. When he returned, it was to accom-
pany the father and daughter on a walk, or, if

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 67

they preferred it, to arrange baskets of shells
and marine productions.

It was an innocent and happy life the three
led, the perfect illustration of Grecian life and
beauty. But an interruption came: Evander
informed them he was obliged to leave them,
that he was summoned hence.

Dibutades had recovered his health and
strength, and he willingly relinquished the
services of the youth ; telling him he would
recommend him for his honesty and good
temper, and no doubt he would gain employ-
ment.

" And will Callirhoe give me her good
word ? " said the youth.

" Certainly. Speak, my child."

She had turned away, and seemed busy
over her needle-work, for no sound came.

" Thou dost not want a feeble woman's
recommendation," said the potter; "thou hast
a strong arm. Perhaps thou mayst go forth
in the world and become a Grecian sailor, and
we shall see thee no more. Wherever thou
art, my blessing go with thee, for thou hast
been to me like a son."

" O father ! " said the youth, " may I not
indeed be one ?"

" In all kindness," said the potter.

« And Callirhoe ! what may I call her ? "

68 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" Well, I suppose thou must call her sister,
if thou callest me father."

" O, not so!" said the young man vehement-
ly ; " let me call her my betrothed, my wife."

Callirhoe turned her face, it was radiant
with smiles and blushes.

" She consents ! O father, give us thy bless-
ing!"

They knelt to the old man; he laid his
hand on their heads.

" What a fool I was not to foresee this,"
said he ; " birds will mate. Ye have been on
the wing together ; together ye have carolled
your morning songs. I was a fool not to see
this before. But who is thy other father?"

" He is a man of honor like thyself. Trust
me ; hereafter I will explain all to thy satisfac-
tion, or relinquish all. Thy daughter's welfare
is as dear as my own ; trust me."

The potter was satisfied ; he contended
neither for rank nor money. He liked the
youth, he was convinced that he had capacity
to earn a living; he even thought that, when
he was too old to work, he might let Evander
succeed him in the pottery. But he was too
prudent to suggest this idea ; there is no use,
reasoned he, in exciting an overweening am-
bition in the young ; let him labor on a few
years.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 69

" I would fain know thy father," said
Dibutades, " it is proper we should com-
mune together."

" He does not dwell in Sicyon. Thou shalt
know him hereafter."

Callirhoe saw that her father's inquiries
perplexed the youth, and she whispered, " I
trust thee" Happy security of innocence and
truth !

But the time came when the lovers must
part. How painful these partings ! Even the
father was moved, and so far relaxed from his
'caution as to hint to Evander, that, if all
went well, he might hereafter become his suc-
cessor in the pottery. " But do not," said he,
"let this prospect check you in any honest
and lucrative employment ; I may live many
years, and it may be long before you attain
this eminence."

" Long, very long may it be," said the
young man, with enthusiasm.

The eve of the parting was a sad one.
Dibutades loved the youth, and he felt that he
had been sometimes cold and severe ; and
though Evander stayed beyond his usual hour
of rest, he would not retire for the night lest
it might seem like indifference. As time stole
on, however, he found it quite impossible to
keep awake, and the lovers were left to the
unheard interchange of mutual vows.

70 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

How much had they to anticipate and
promise ! how many little keepsakes to ex-
change! They had not then, as lovers have
now, beautiful resemblances to console them,
to gaze on and to wear near the heart.

Suddenly CalJirhoe arose, and, selecting a
piece of pointed charcoal which lay on the
brazier, — " Keep thy head still, perfectly still,
as I will place it, and I will have something
by which to remember thee."

The light of the lamp was strong, and cast
his profile distinctly on the wall. With a firm
and steady hand Callirhoe traced the outline
till she came to the mouth, and then the
gravity of the youth gave way, and he could
not restrain his desire to laugh.

"Ah, you have spoiled my picture," said
she; but not discouraged, she began anew.
This time she was more successful, and to
their mutual delight the fine Grecian profile
of Evander came out quite perfect.

" I should know it anywhere," said she,
while tears of pleasure started to her eyes.

Several days after Evander's departure
Dibutades remarked the hieroglyphics, as he
called them, on the wall.

" What is the meaning of all this?" said he
petulantly. " It is child's play to blacken the
wall ; thou wilt give me the trouble to whiten
it over."

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 71

" Not for the world, father," said she ; " look
well at it."

Dibutades gazed steadily at it. " By Jupi-
ter," said he, " thou hast been copying Evan-
der ! there is his straight nose, his gently part-
ed lips, his rounded chin ! Girl, is this thy
work ? "

" Mine, father," said the delighted artist. .

" I will complete it for thee," said the
father.

"O, not this!" said Callirhoe, "not this!
take the other."

"What, without the mouth? No, girl; I
promise thee not to injure thy outline."

It was a difficult task, but well accomplished.
Carefully he filled the outline with clay, while
she stood by trembling ; the eyes, nose, and
mouth were well designated, and a complete
medallion was formed. The father was now
willing to take the unfinished outline, and
by the help of the other and the assistance
of his daughter, a second was completed.

Callirhoe could now have her medallion in
her own apartment, the last object before her
when she closed her eyes, and the first when
she awoke in the morning.

But in Dibutades a new art was developed.
He took profiles without the outline on the
wall, that were pronounced excellent likeness-

72 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

es. At length he proceeded to busts ; his fame
was soon spread abroad, his door was besieged
by applicants to have their likenesses. It
was a new art, and seemed to open a new
sense; the young and the old must have
their busts.

Dibutades was no longer spoken of as the
humble potter ; he was the inventor of a new
art, appealing to the vanity and self-love of
all about him. He was invited to the houses
of the wealthy, and his daughter admired and
sought; he was considered the inheritor of
Egyptian art, and even to this day it is doubt-
ful whether he was a native of Sicyon, so
many of the Grecian states claimed his
origin. He made a bust of his daughter,
which she preserved for her lover. When
Callirhoe saw it completed, she said, " I
should think you had flattered me, if it did
not look so much like my mother."

Dibutades had been secretly trying to model
a bust of his lost wife ; he could not satisfy him-
self, and yet it recalled her countenance. At
length he appealed to his daughter. " There is
something wanting," said he ; " what is it ? "

"Ah, father, it is the soul of which she told
us. What is the form without it ? "

A year had passed away, and they had
heard nothing from Evander. A gentle melan-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 73

choly took possession of the young girl, and
though she often repeated to herself with un-
swerving faith, " I trust in him" she thought
of the thousand perils that might surround
him. The medallion was her comfort and
delight* " No wonder," said she to her
father, " others seek for busts and medallions,
if they are to them what mine is to me." •

" I do not forget, my child," he replied,
" that I received my first idea from thee, and
I often think it strange that thou shouldst
have made this discovery, — thou who hadst
never attempted an outline."

" It was not a discovery," said she ; " it
came from the depth of my heart."

Another year passed, and Dibutades was so
much engaged in his success, that he hardly
thought of Evander. Perhaps he was not dis-
pleased that Callirhoe, who was sought by
many young men, should form a more brilliant
connection than his assistant in the pottery
could offer. He often spoke of the art of mod-
elling with enthusiasm, and told his daugh-
ter that it had been lately introduced in Etru-
ria, by Euchirus of Corinth. " They say,"
said he, "that whole figures are beautifully
modelled there."

* Pliny speaks of this as preserved to his time.

74 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

One evening they sat conversing over their
simple repast, which consisted chiefly of fruit,
the honey of Hymettus, and the light wine
of the country. The moon was pouring her
radiance through the verandah, and casting
her beautiful shadows of vines and flowers,
as they sported in the breeze, on every ob-
ject. Suddenly a new outline was visible,
and Evander stood before them. It would be
useless to describe the meeting where all was
truth and harmony. Dibutades was struck
with his rnanly and spirited bearing, and felt
that he was no longer his humble apprentice.

" I have come," said Evander, " to claim
my betrothed, and to explain all mystery. My
father is a wealthy merchant of Corinth. He
placed me at the university of Sicyon for my
education. I accidentally beheld Callirhoe,
and long watched her footsteps without her
knowledge. When she proposed my being
your assistant, I could not resist the tempta-
tion, and willingly labored in menial offices
that I might be near her.

" My absence from the university was at
length noticed, and though I had kept pace
with my class, suspicions were excited. I re-
ceived an angry letter from my father, ordering
me to Corinth, and accusing me of low dissi-
pation. I quitted you, and hastened to him.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 75

I cleared myself of the false charges attached
to me. He was going to Etruria and took me
with him, and there I have resided since leav-
ing you."

" Then you can tell me," said Dibutades,
" of the progress of modelling in Etruria. I am
told it has reached great perfection under one
Euchirus of Corinth."

" Nay, father," said the youth, " it is yet in
its infancy, and you will believe it when I tell
you that I am this Euchirus of whom you
speak. I was only Evander to you and Cal-
lirhoe, while your assistant in the pottery.
At the university I was still Euchirus. We
heard in Etruria of your success in modelling
medallions and busts ; then I told my father
my whole story, and he has permitted me to
return and claim rny betrothed. In a few
days he will be here, and is fully persuaded
that we may found a school for modelling in
Sicyonia."

That such- a school was instituted about
this time, there is ample testimony, and Dibu-
dates was its founder.

A multiplicity of names may be collected,
that fill up the long interval between this
period and the new era of the art of sculp-
ture;— Onatas and Glaucias, who replaced
the statues of Harmodius and Aristogiton,
after the originals had been carried off by

76 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Xerxes ; and Pythagoras of Rhegium, whose
statues were highly celebrated; he was only
inferior to Myron, who was the last and most
distinguished of the early school.

Myron was a native of Eleutherse. He unites
the first and second ages of Grecian sculpture.
His principal figures were in bronze ; his
largest ones in wood. It is much to be re-
gretted that there are none of his original
works extant. The famous Discobolus is with-
out doubt a copy of his work. His repre-
sentation of animals was wonderful. But
though an imitative sculptor of the highest
order, he does not appear to have gone be-
yond imitation. We hear of no beautiful
creations of genius and fancy, — no spiritual
combinations. The art at that time went no
farther in Greece. It remained for the era of
Pericles to give life and health to all institu-
tions,— to awaken genius from its slumber, —
to exhibit the all-conquering power of oratory
in himself, — to attract around him the wis-
dom of Socrates, the elevated philosophy of
Plato and Anaxagoras, the statesman-like skill
of Miltiades, Cimon, Themistocles, and Xeno-
phon, the celebrated tragic poets .ZEschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles, the elegance of
Alcibiades, and the feminine beauty, grace,
and intellect of Aspasia. But more than all
these, the surpassing skill of Phidias.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

77

CHAPTER IV.

GRECIAN ART. — PERICLES AND PHIDIAS.

PHIDIAS was born at Athens, four hundred
and eighty-eight years before Christ. He was
the son of Charmidas, and his father, perceiv-
ing uncommon powers of observation and a
decided predilection for the fine arts, supposed
he would become a painter like himself ; but
Phidias struck out a different career, and
became the pupil of Ageladas and Hippias
in sculpture.

His first attempts were under the imme-
diate influence of Homer's poems, which he
deeply studied. From these he caught an
inspiration which he yearned to embody in
earthly materials.

His daily walks were amongst the beautiful
scenery of nature, whose perfection he de-
lighted to contemplate, even to the smallest
flower and insect ; and he amused himself by
imitating them. He represented flies and fish
so naturally, that spectators said of the latter,

78 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" Give them water and they will swim." He
had a knowledge of history, poetry, and the
allegories of the age; he was also well ac-
quainted with geometry and optics.

Pericles knew well how to prize talents like
these. They formed a strict and harmonious
intimacy, and the prince consigned to him
the direction of the public works and the em-
illishment of his beloved Athens.
Phidias was charged by his master with
ic erection of that well-known temple, the
'arthenon, which has since been considered
is the perfect triumph of classic art.

The whole edifice was composed of pure
rhite marble, and was about two hundred
seventy feet in length, and ninety-eight
in breadth. It was supported by fluted pillars
of the Doric order, forty-six in number, eight
at each front and fifteen on each side ; they
were about forty-two feet in height and seven-
teen in circumference, and the distance from
pillar to pillar was seven feet four inches.

The two fronts of the temple stood east
and west ; the former has suffered much more
injury than the latter from the lapse of ages.
The pediments of these fronts were adorned
with a profusion of statues, larger than life,
and of admirable workmanship. The meto-
pes, by which are meant the spaces between

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 79

the triglyphs of the columns, were embellished
in groups of alto-rilievos, representing the
combats of the Lapithae, a people of Thessaly,
with the fabled Centaurs at the marriage of
Pirithous. The frieze of the cella was deco-
rated with a series of basso-rilievos, describing
the Parthenaic procession to the temple in
honor of the goddess Minerva. The attitudes
of the figures were of course adapted to the
space they filled. Those figures placed at the
extreme angles were made recumbent ; for
instance, the Hyperion, the Theseus, and the
Ilyssus. The next adjoining were represented
sitting, and those in the centre, where was
the greatest perpendicular distance, appeared
standing. All the figures are admirable, but
the highest precedence is given to Theseus.

In the interior of the Parthenon was placed
the noble work of Phidias, which he had
been completing. This was the -chrysele-
phantine figure of Minerva. It was indeed its
most splendid ornament. The eyes of the
statue were of precious stones, that changed
their lustre with the changing rays of light,
seeming almost like emotion of the soul.
The robe or vestment was entirely of gold ;
the face, neck, and nude parts, of polished
ivory ; the helmet on her head, the aegis, the
drapery, and the wings of the figure of Victo-

80 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

ry, which she held in her left hand, were all of
burnished gold. The statue of the goddess
measured twenty-seven cubits, or thirty-nine
feet seven inches, in height.

This statue was placed in the centre of
the temple. The interior of it was supposed
to be made of wood, but only ivory and
gold were apparent.

Great as was the natural talent of Phidias,
he could never have attained his rank and
eminence in sculpture, without the aid of his
friend and patron, who opened to him the
auxiliaries of wealth and power.

To charm the age, it was necessary to min-
gle excessive costliness with his works. Gold
and precious stones were the ornaments of
his Jupiter and Minerva. Simple white mar-
ble sufficed for the exquisite sculptures of the
edifice itself, and these have survived to the
present day, in sufficient preservation for
models and studies.

Pericles found in Cimon a powerful rival,
but his own calm self-possession often defeat-
ed the violence of his adversaries.

" We shall have something more than
words," said one of the Athenians who had
gathered round the market-place.

"What dost thou mean?" said a bystander.

" A troup of Cimon's friends have collected

••

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 81

to escort Pericles home this evening, when his
oration shall be over. Go with me, we shall
see glorious times. Pericles will not tamely
bear the insults they mean to heap on him ;
we shall have glorious fighting."

That evening Pericles spoke with unusual
eloquence. His countrymen shouted, "A god,
a god has come amongst us ! Saw you his
lightning? heard you his thunder? It is the
Olympian Jove."

When the meeting was dissolved, Pericles
prepared to depart. Several of his friends
pressed around to accompany him home.
He declined their attendance. Unlike Cimon,
his predecessor and rival, he affected no pomp.

" The Areopagites were present to-night,"
whispered some of them, " they will follow
you and get up a quarrel."

Pericles calmly replied, " There must be
two sides to a quarrel."

In pursuing his solitary path, he at length
perceived that he was closely followed ; turn-
ing to his followers, he said, " Why give your-
selves this unnecessary labor. The hill to the
Acropolis is steep" (his residence was near
it) ; " pray leave me to pursue my path
alone." Then, unable to suppress their in-
sults, they broke forth in abusive language,
taunting and reviling him.
6

82 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Quietly he walked on, neither hastening
nor delaying his progress. The night was
dark, and thick clouds gathered over the sky.
When he arrived at his own door, his servants
came out to receive him with torches ; as he
entered, he said, in a voice that all might hear,
" Conduct my fellow-citizens home with your
torches." They returned, awed by his self-pos-
session.

When the popular party procured the ac-
cusation of Cimon, Pericles pleaded in his
favor; his banishment, however, left Pericles
at liberty to pursue his plans and embellish
his beloved Athens. He sought out men of
genius and employed workmen, paying them
liberally.

In Phidias he early discovered powers
which he called divine, and he adopted him
as a friend and companion. It was on a
bright morning after the excitement occa-
sioned by the oration of Pericles, that the two
friends met.

" Whither so fast?" said Pericles, as the
artist was passing him.

" I am hastening to the Parthenon. A mul-
titude are collecting to behold my Pallas ; it
is to be exhibited to-day for the first time."

" I will go with thee," said Pericles.

They moved silently along; the brow of
the statesman seemed clouded with thought.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 83

" Dost them know," said he, breaking the
silence, " that I read the signs of the times ? "

" I know it well," replied Phidias.

" Wilt thou believe me when I tell thee
thou hast bitter adversaries?"

" It may be so," said Phidias, " but I will
strive to conquer as thou hast done, by mag-
nanimity."

They arrived at the Parthenon. There
stood the goddess towering above the pigmies
who gazed upon her, so beautifully propor-
tioned, so delicately finished, that she inspired
a feeling of love mingled with awe. And
here, too, was Phidias, the noble creator of
this splendid work. Pericles stood by his side
sharing all his emotions. The enthusiastic
Athenians crowded to the Parthenon shouting
and applauding, " Phidias is a god himself,"
they cried, " we will pay him divine honors."
Then the brow of Pericles became overcast,
for he was deeply read in human nature.

" I hear," said he, " in this burst of ap-
plause, in this shouting of voices, only the roar
of the whirlwind before its fury breaks forth
Ah, my friend, guard thyself well from the
malice that surrounds thee."

"Nay," said Phidias, " my work is com-
pleted, it is before them; what can they do
more than pass judgment upon it. Methinks
it stands their scrutiny."

84 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" How much gold hast thou demanded for
its completion ? "

" Forty-four talents."

" How much gold hast thou used for thy
work?"

" Forty-four talents, every particle," replied
Phidias.

" How wilt thou prove it ? "

" Thou hast forgotten," said Phidias, " that
by thy recommendation the gold is put on in
such a manner that it can be taken off. I
knew not precisely thy motive, but thy coun-
sels are always wise ; they have been most
kind and judicious to me, and I have never
repented following them."

" Thou wilt not repent following them here,"
said Pericles.

The power and favor with which Pericles
invested Phidias were attended with the usual
degree of envy and calumny which belong to
low minds ; and though the artist employed
various workmen in the building and orna-
menting of the Parthenon, and behaved with
the strictest justice and liberality, he drew
upon himself the accusation of fraud and em-
bezzlement of the gold with which he had been
furnished for the decoration of the statues.

For a while these reports took no decisive
form. At length one of the head workmen

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 85

placed himself in the forum, and lodged a for-
mal accusation. Pericles was in the forum
by the side of the artist when he was sum-
moned. Phidias listened calmly to the accu-
sation.

" If this is proved," said Pericles, " we must
deliver him into the hands of justice."

" It is of a nature," said the adverse party,
" that cannot be proved ; but we have the
judgment and decision of the most experi-
enced and cunning workmen, that not more
than one half of the gold is employed in the
decorations of the statue."

" It can be proved," said Pericles, " by
taking the statue in pieces, and weighing the
gold."

A general murmur of disapprobation was
heard, for the Athenians were proud of the
statue, and though they envied the artist, they
worshipped the work.

" Let me hear," said Pericles, " what Phidi-
as has to say for himself; he has not spoken."

" I leave the goddess herself to decide," said
Phidias proudly. " I place my cause in her
hands. The gold, by the advice of the noble
Pericles, is put on in such a manner that it
can be taken off or put on at my pleasure,
without injury to the statue."

The matter was quickly decided. The gold

86 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

was abstracted from the statue and weighed in
public. It was found that not a particle was
wanting. The enemies and accusers of Phidi-
as retreated amidst hisses and condemnation.

Thus one scheme contrived for his ruin was
defeated, and his triumph was complete.

Previously to the statue of Minerva in the
Parthenon, Phidias had cast one of Pallas in
bronze, which was placed in the Acropolis.
She stood to represent a guardian deity ; and
so lofty was her height, that voyagers who
rounded Cape Suniurn beheld her crested hel-
met and pointed spear above the battlements
of the city ; a noble landmark to Athenian
mariners.

The following anecdote may be fully appre-
ciated by artists.

It was intended to place a statue of Mi-
nerva on a column of very great height, and
both Phidias and his contemporary Alcamenes
were to execute images for the purpose, from
which the citizens were to choose. When they
were completed, the minute and elegantly fin-
ished one of Alcamenes was universally pre-
ferred, while that of Phidias appeared coarse
and ill defined.

" Place them on the eminence for which
they are designed," said the artist.

This was accordingly done. The minute

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 87

beauties of one statue disappeared, — it be-
came tame and lifeless ; while the grand and
noble proportions of the other seemed to start
into action, and the people exclaimed, " Phidias
is the sculptor of the gods."

The works of Phidias are arranged in dis-
tinct classes, — those of mixed materials, ivory
and gold, bronze and marble. It must not
be supposed he confined himself to these ; he
worked also in clay, wood, and plaster.

Of all his works, the one most celebrated
was his Jupiter. The god was seated on a
throne which, like the statue, was made of
ivory and gold. He wore a crown upon his
head in imitation of a wreath of the olive-tree.
His right hand held a sceptre of curious and
exquisite workmanship, on the top of which
was an eagle, and in the composition of this
all kinds of metals were blended. The robe
and sandals of the figure were of gold, and
upon the garment itself were represented ani-
mals and flowers. The throne was variegated
with gold and precious stones, and inlaid with
ebony and ivory, that was also adorned with
animals and statues ; four figures of Victory,
in dancing attitudes, were represented at the
foot of the throne. Other figures stood at
the feet of Jupiter, and the pedestal upon
which the whole rested was adorned with

88 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

mythological compositions. The figure was
supposed to be sixty feet in height.

The grandeur and sublimity of this statue
were said to inspire devotion. When Phidias
was asked whence he derived his inspiration,
he replied by pointing to Homer's descrip-
tion of Jupiter, in answer to the prayer of
Thetis : —

" But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped.
Witness the sacred honors of our head ;
The nod that ratifies the will divine,
The faithful, fixed, irrevocable sign.
This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows.
He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows,
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
High heaven, with trembling, the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook."

This noble statue was executed for the
Eleans, who instituted an office by which
the connections and descendants of Phidias
received an annuity for preserving it from any
thing which might mar its beauty.

It is for us to regret that it was made of
such perishable materials ; they were obliged
to sprinkle water on the ivory to preserve it.
Phidias disapproved the mixed effect, notwith-
standing its brilliancy. His taste was too
pure and scientific, not to perceive that the
splendor of the gold and ivory was meretri-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 89

cious, and adverse to the solemn repose and
the true dignity of sculpture.

Phidias long triumphed over the base at-
tacks of his enemies. When they found his
honesty was above impeachment, they accused
him of impiety, in placing his name upon
the statue of Jupiter, and also of diffusing
heretical opinions.

While filled with the greatness and sub-
limity of his own conceptions, uniting the no-
blest endowments which genius can bestow, —
while working for the glory of Athens, and
leaving monuments of imperishable glory, —
the artist in his fifty-sixth year fell a victim to
the accusations of his enemies. Feeling that
a fair trial was all that was necessary to estab-
lish his innocence, he surrendered himself as
a prisoner; from the dark obscurity of his pris-
on he never issued. It is supposed he was
secretly poisoned.

There was one person who exercised too
much influence over the minds of both Pericles
and Phidias to pass unnoticed, and this was
Aspasia of Miletus. She was early instruct-
ed in female accomplishments, and had in her
native place great advantages of education ;
her love of the arts, of science in its various
forms, induced her to visit Athens, then so
renowned. There was an uncommon union

90 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

of graces and charms in her manners and con-
versation. Some have spoken of her as an
adventurer ; but this hardly seems possible, as
she was at once received into the highest cir-
cles of Athens. She had enriched her mind
with learning, and even Socrates esteemed it
a privilege to listen to her eloquence.

Her acquaintance with Pericles was un-
doubtedly a source of mutual pleasure; but
unfortunately he did not live happily with his
wife, a lady of high birth, and this gave rise
to slanderous reports. The wedded pair at
length separated by mutual agreement, and
Pericles continued to frequent the literary cir-
cles of Aspasia.

This graceful and accomplished woman col-
lected around her the contemporary philoso-
phers of the day, such as Plato and Socrates.
Pericles solicited an entry to these circles for
his young nephew, Alcibiades, but he soon,
by his dissipated manners, forfeited this priv-
ilege, and was dismissed from the circle.

The laws did not permit Pericles to con-
tract a marriage with a foreign woman, or
Aspasia might have become the successor of
his nobly born lady. Her beauty and talents
acquired great ascendency over her friends.
Phidias was introduced to her by Pericles, and
found in her a congenial taste for his favorite

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 91

pursuit. When slander was tired of pointing
its shafts at Pericles, it assailed her intercourse
with the artist. But the only basis of these
evil constructions seems to have been the fear-
less independence of her character.

It was indeed a wonder to behold a young
and unprotected woman collecting around her
the society of the highest personages. Plato
describes Socrates as sitting at her feet, and
Pericles as drawing from her influence and
instructions the charm of his eloquence.

In our day, the intercourse of virtuous and
high-minded women has an elevating influ-
ence, and perhaps this was the case with As-
pasia's circle, for her slanderers seem to have
been obliged to resort to grounds wholly for-
eign from former charges. Her house was
open to the professors of new philosophical
theories, which were considered heresies. Such
men as Protagoras, Zeno, Anaxagoras, and
others equally daring in speculation, were
her constant guests. The prejudices of the
day were such as to give her circle the repu-
tation of a school of impiety.

The comic poet Hermippus, who had con-
sidered himself slighted by the circle, insti-
tuted a prosecution against her for offences
towards religion and impiety to the gods.
But the danger was averted through the elo-
quence of Pericles.

92 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Aspasia outlived him, and afterwards mar-
ried Lysicles, a young man of humble birth,
but superior talents, and who by the happy
influence of Aspasia rose to the highest em-
ployments in the republic.

In speaking of Phidias, it is most wonder-
ful that at this day we have the means of
analyzing his works, and viewing them with
those of his pupils. The acquisition which
Lord Elgin made, and which the British
Museum, we think rather ungraciously, finally
accepted, is now fully appreciated by all, and
was at the time highly valued by British
artists.

There is, however, to our uninstructed
natures, something a little mysterious in the
praise bestowed on some of these mutilated
statues. Many who inquire with ardor for the
Elgin marbles, when they visit the British
Museum, turn with dismay from the shattered
fragments exhibited. But let us strive to ac-
quire a truer taste and judgment, even if we
do not arrive at the highest flight of criticism
which the most celebrated British sculptors
reached. Nollekins, Westmacott, Flaxman,
Chantry, Rossi, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Rich-
ard Payne, Knight, &c., were a select com-
mittee, called to appreciate the marbles and
determine their value in coin.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 93

Most of them placed the remains of the
Theseus above the Apollo Belvidere as a work
of art. Nollekens pronounces it to be as close
a copy of fine nature as the Apollo. Flax-
man, it is true, gives the preference to the
Apollo Belvidere, though he considers it only
a copy.

Perhaps those who feel a glow of indigna-
tion at hearing the idol of their imaginations
thus traduced may like to know the grounds
upon which Nollekins and Flaxman consider-
ed the Apollo a copy.

Nollekins says the hair and mantle of the
Apollo are in the style of bronze more than
marble. He then adds that there is in the
Pope's Museum (Pio Clementino) a mention
of a statue in Athens in bronze, by Gala-
mis, erected on account of a plague that
had prevailed in Athens, — an Apollo Alexi-
cacus. From representations of this statue in
basso-rilievo, with a bow, it is believed this
figure is a copy of that. He goes on to say :
"I have mentioned the hair and the mantle;
but another thing convinces me of its being
a copy. A- cloak hangs over the left arm,
which in bronze it was easy to execute so
that the folds on one side should answer to
the folds of the other. The cloak is single, and
there is no duplication of drapery ; in bronze

94 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

it is easy, in marble it was not, and I presume
the imitator copied the folds in front, but the
folds did not answer or correspond to the other
side ; those on the back appear to have been
calculated for strength in the marble, and
those in front represent the bronze from which
I apprehend them to be taken." He consid-
ers these marbles in their mutilated state of
much more value than if any attempt had
been made to restore them.

Westmacott considered the Theseus much
superior to the Apollo Belvidere, because
Theseus has all the essence of style with all
the truth of nature ; the Apollo is more an
ideal figure.

Lord Elgin at first thought of having the
statues and bas-reliefs restored, and in that
view went to Rome to consult and employ
Canova. The decision of the artist was con-
clusive. He declared that, however greatly it
was to be lamented that these statues should
have suffered so much from time and from
barbarism, yet they were now, as they stood,
wholly the work of the ablest artists the world
had ever seen, executed in the most enlight-
ened period of the arts ; that he should have
had " the greatest delight, and derived the
greatest benefit, from having these inestima-
ble works in his possession for the purpose

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 95

proposed, but that it would be sacrilege in
him or any man to presume to touch them
with a chisel."

Such was the disinterested and enlightened
judgment of Canova. His opinion has been
universally sanctioned, and all idea of restor-
ing the marbles abandoned. It is well attest-
ed, that M^rs. Siddons, the glory and pride of
the English stage, was so overcome at one of
the groups of female statues as actually to
shed tears.

Sir Benjamin West, in a letter to Lord
Elgin, says : " I perceived in your marbles
points of excellence as appropriate to paint-
ing as sculpture. I allude to the visible signs
of that internal life with which the animal
creation is endowed, for the various purposes
for which they were created. It was the
representation of these emotions of life which
the Grecian philosophers recommended to
their sculptors, at a period when their fig-
ures were but little advanced from Egyptian
statues."

The progress of the Grecian artists in this
perception and execution of life is indeed
wonderful. In speaking of a horse West
says : " Would not one almost suppose that
some magic power, rather than a human hand,
had turned the head into stone, at the moment

96 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

when the horse was in all the energies of its
nature ? We feel the same when we view the
young equestrian Athenians ; and in observ-
ing them we are insensibly carried on with the
impression that they and their horses actually
existed, and we see them at the instant when
they were converted into marble."

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 97

CHAPTER V.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS CONTEMPORARY
WITH PHIDIAS.

THE art of casting in bronze owed its origi-
nal perfection to Phidias. The Pallas or Mi-
nerva in the Acropolis, of which we have spok-
en, is now only on record. It is to his mar-
ble sculptures we are indebted for our knowl-
edge of this mighty master, and here we have
undoubted originals.

Alcamenes and Agoracritus were his pupils.
Polycletus was among his contemporaries, and
formed what is called the " canon " from which
all succeeding artists borrowed their propor-
tions. Ctesilaus contested with Phidias and
Polycletus the prize of merit for a statue to
be dedicated in the temple of the Ephesian
Diana. The celebrated Dying Gladiator has
been attributed to him, but, as is now thought,
erroneously.

It is supposed that Pericles was absent on a
three years' war when the enemies of Phidias
accomplished their dark purposes.
7

;

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to by biographers ; but much obscurity rests
both on the cause and term of his exile. It
is painful to contemplate a being with such
endowments as the victim of envy and perse-
cution. He had given an impulse to the arts
which was felt for thirty years; and during
that period, at least, his genius furnished the
mould in which the art was cast.

The names of many artists who existed at
this period are handed down to us, and some
of their works. Naucydes was author of that
figure which holds the discus, and appears to be
mentally calculating the distance of the throw.
Leochares, Bryaxes, and Timotheus assisted
in erecting the tomb of Mausoleus, though to
Scopas the chief merit is given. To him is
ascribed the celebrated group of Niobe. He
was thought to form a gradation between
Phidias and Praxiteles. Lysippus was also
of this era. Phidias distinguished himself by
grandeur, the two others by grace and beauty.
Phidias will always be considered as attaining
the highest style of art, and it is indeed a
most fortunate circumstance, that these mar-
bles of the Parthenon come down to the
present day undisputed. While it is almost a
fashion to doubt the originality of every cele-
brated piece of sculpture, the works of Phidias
are undoubted, and stand out from all others

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 101

in unrivalled and unquestioned excellence and
originality.

To Scopas, as we have mentioned, is at-
tributed that group, Niobe and her children,
— one of the finest studies of the Grecian
school. Fable represents them as pierced by
the arrows of Apollo, one by one. There is
so much truth and nature in the figures, that
we almost forget the mythology which ushers
them to our notice. The sons are represented
separately, with the exception of two, who are
supposed to be struck down by the fatal shaft
while they are wrestling. Probably the foun-
dation of the story is laid by one of those ter-
rific diseases, which, even in later days, have
been known to destroy whole families, such
as plague, cholera, etc.

It is believed Niobe and her children formed
originally a group, as they were all dug up
from the same place. At present, in the
Florentine Museum, we see them arranged
round a room ; and the effect must be greatly
inferior upon the sympathies of the beholder,
to what it would be if they were collected
and formed into one powerful combination.

We go from one to the other to study out
each individual, and it is only till we come to
Niobe and her youngest daughter, that we
yield ourselves to the illusion. Then we com-

102 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

prehend the grief of the mother, the clinging
agony of the young girl clasped in her arms ;
our critical faculties yield, and we are lost in
emotion. The subject forms a most magnifi-
cent piece of pathetic grandeur, and each in-
dividual accumulates a greater weight of woe
upon the wretched mother, until the mind is
melted with pity arid struck with awe.

The Pedagogue in the Florence gallery is
supposed to belong to this group. Peda-
gogue was the name given to the slaves,
among the ancients, who had the care of their
children. Astonishment and terror are depict-
ed on his countenance, as he sees the children
confided to his care one by one destroyed. It
is a fine, expressive figure, but wants the
explanation to give its full effect.

The ancient Greeks attributed every un-
common event to their gods, and in that way
accounted for all remarkable phenomena. As
they invested their deities with human pas-
sions, anger and revenge became instigating
motives.

Winckelmann allots three epochs to sculp-
ture : the style hard and stern ; the style
great and strongly marked ; the style graceful
and flowing. The first lasted to Phidias ; the
second to Praxiteles, Lysippus, and Scopas;
the third to the decay of the art. The third is

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 103

termed the era of the beautiful, one of more
studied elegance and softer character ; yet
there were distinguished artists between the
two divisions, and many names are handed
down to us. The beautiful commenced with
Praxiteles.

The decay of art was gradual. Painting
declined much faster than sculpture. The art
of painting was never so completely national
as that of sculpture, which paid honors to the
good and the learned, which raised images
of the gods before whom the people bowed in
worship. Sculpture received at one time a
sort of religious homage. Pausanias has pre-
served the names of one hundred and sixty-
nine sculptors, and only fifteen painters.

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CHAPTER VI.

PRAXITELES, LYSIPPUS, AND CHAEES OF
LINDUS. — COLOSSUS OE RHODES.

PRAXITELES was born about 364 B. C.
Many cities dispute the honor of his nativi-
ty; some suppose his birth to have been at
Andros, others at Cnidus. This last idea
arose from his beautiful statue of the Venus
of Cnidus, a town and /promontory of Doris
in Caria. Venus was considered the tutelary
deity of the place, and had three temples
erected to her. In the last of these stood the
statue of the goddess, which was the work of
Praxiteles, the far-famed Venus of Cnidus.
The city had become much in debt, and
many offers were made to liquidate their debts
if they would part with this statue, but they
refused to surrender what they considered the
glory of their city. Flaxman gives a drawing
of this Venus from an antique statue found
near Rome. The place is now a heap of
ruins, an account of which is found in Clarke's
travels. The famous mathematician and as-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 105

tronomer, Eudoxus, was born there. In later
times Pares has been supposed to be the birth-
place of this celebrated sculptor, Praxiteles.

His youthful ardor was kindled by the noble
works of Phidias, and many other sculptors,
whose names are recorded. But while he felt
with enthusiasm the sublimity and grandeur
of their works, his very nature craved what he
could not find in them, — tenderness and sof-
tened beauty. No doubt the constitution of
his mind aided him in this pursuit ; to him
Nature wore hex loveliest aspect.. She came
not to him in clouds and storms, in earth-
quakes or whirlwinds, but in the fresh breezes
of the morning, scattering around her per-
fumed flowers, and breathing innocence and
truth. As such he sculptured her; woman
was to him the union of gentleness, strength,
and elegance. He combined in his ideal
the most perfect simplicity with the refine-
ment of cultivated intellect. The expression
of deep feeling was so mingled with modesty,
that the most sensitive could not shrink from
his work. The famous statue of the Venus
de' Medici is supposed to be copied from his
Venus of Cnidus. • But however beautiful
the former, and it bears away the palm from
all her sisters, the copyist mingled more of
earthly feeling in her composition, probably

106 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

because he possessed it himself. It is less
spiritual, though not less pure and lovely,
than the Venus of Praxiteles. We may well
lament that so few of this master's works
remain ; but those which do remain abun-
dantly prove the character of them. The
Faun, the Thespian Cupid in the Capitol,*
the Apollo with a lizard, are pieces of sculp-
ture which command the admiration of the
uninitiated as well as the scientific.

It is said that art cannot, or has not, attained
any higher excellence than Praxiteles gave to
it, and that subsequent invention has not de-
parted from it. This may be true, but happily
experience proves that there are no boundaries
set to progressive excellence. Not to human
intellect in its variety of combinations is it
said, as to the billows of the ocean, Thus far
shalt thou go, and here shall thy proud waves
be stayed.

* An anecdote is related by Pausanias of this statue : —
" Phryne, the celebrated Thespian courtesan, was desirous of
possessing one of Praxiteles' most perfect works; but diffi-
dent of her own skill in the selection, she devised the follow-
ing expedient: she ordered information to be given to the
artist that his workshop was on fire ; he, not doubting the
intelligence, rushed out exclaiming, " If my Satyr and Cupid
are not saved, all is lost !"

Phryne's object was obtained, and she immediately chose
the Cupid, which was henceforth called the Thespian Cupid.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 107

It is true that empires grow old and decay,
yet but few of their arts are lost. We look
back hundreds of years without any effort of
mind, and must be blind not to see a constant
and progressive improvement. But we cannot
look forward a year, not a day, not an hour,
and here is the great secret of scepticism in
all its forms ; whereas, if we reason from
analogy, we shall never feel that we have
reached the limits of human perfection.

Every art, almost every mechanical employ-
ment, has something which approaches the
spiritual in its effect upon our natures ; we
resolve this into taste^ or a similar phraseology.
And what is taste, but a spiritual influence
operating on the mind ? The modeller and
the sculptor charms us by this spiritual influ-
ence which more or less pervades his works.
The Apollo Belvidere, we are tempted to say,
is a living example. Its execution, since the
acquisition of the Elgin marbles, has been
thought inferior to the mutilated Theseus;
yet who gazes upon it without a thrill of rap-
ture ? It is the spiritual diffused over it
which enchants us.

Lysippus was contemporary with Praxi-
teles, and bom at Sicyon. He was originally
a brazier, but he soon discovered superior
talents, and applied himself to the study of

108 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

painting and sculpture. His chief works were
in bronze ; his Tarentine Jupiter, sixty feet
high, and his twenty-one equestrian statues
of Alexander's body-guards, are works which
claim for him the highest commendation. In
his smaller works there was exquisite finish
and the nicest symmetry. He was the favorite
of Alexander, who permitted Lysippus alone
to cast his statue. Centuries after, his works
were held in such high estimation, that even
Tiberius, tyrant as he was, trembled in his
palace at an insurrection of the Roman peo-
ple, occasioned by a removal of one of the
statues of Lysippus from the public baths.

Over six hundred works are attributed to
Lysippus, and of them all not one remains.
The famous horses of St. Mark were at one
time assigned to him ; but the workmanship
is inferior to what his reputation would lead
us to expect. He was supposed to have a
thorough knowledge of anatomy.

The age of Alexander was celebrated for its
noble works in sculpture : but from his death
begins the decline of the arts. Yet it was a
slow decline, and often marked by noble per-
formances, for at least forty years from the
death of Alexander the school of Praxiteles
and Lysippus preserved its undiminished lus-
tre ; and even after their deaths, the son of

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 109

Praxiteles, Cephisodotus, and the pupils of
Lysippus, are mentioned, though few of their
works are celebrated in Greek annals. The
Fighting Gladiator is attributed to Agasias, a
pupil of Lysippus.

The famous Colossus of Rhodes is attrib-
uted to Chares of Lindus. Rhodes was an
island in the Grecian Archipelago, lying be-
tween Crete and Candia. It was bright and
beautiful, as its name implies, interpreted, as
it is by some, the Isle of Roses ; others derive
the name from the rushing of waters. In
ancient times it was sacred to the Sun, and
could boast of its noble works of art, as well
as its serene sky, its healthy climate, its fer-
tile soil and fine fruits. This rich and pow-
erful republic played an important part in
Grecian history.

Demetrius, as remarkable for the vices as
for the virtues of his character, besieged the
city of Rhodes because the Rhodians re-
mained faithful to the alliance they had
formed with Ptolemy Soter. The Rhodians
were so ably assisted by Ptolemy, that the
besiegers were compelled to abandon their
enterprise.

The Rhodians were filled with gratitude to
their tutelary deity, and, feeling that an event
so important ought not to pass without suit-

110 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

able notice and an adequate memorial to their
allies, summoned a council to decide in what
manner they might best express their divine
adoration to the god of the Sun, and thank-
fulness to their noble friends for their timely
succor.

Egetus, an ancient mariner, whose snowy
locks fell over his shoulders, was chosen to ad-
dress the multitude. The Grecians honored
age, and listened with reverence to the words
which fell from the lips of experience.

" My friends and children," said he, " my
voice is feeble, but my heart is strong. Thrice
have I been shipwrecked, yet I stand before
you still enjoying the air of my native land.
The waves of the Archipelago have flowed
over me, and I have been raised from the
depths of the mighty waters, — for what ? —
to offer my incense to the god of the sea and
land. It is my proposal that we build a
statue to Apollo. Let it be a colossal one,
let it encompass sea and land, let its foun-
dation be the eternal rocks, let its head be
surrounded by the halo of the morning light.
For this purpose I offer two thirds of my pos-
sessions. I am old, and my wants are few.
Here is my tribute."

Enthusiastic cheers followed. Not a dis-
senting voice was heard. " We will have a

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. Ill

Colossus of Rhodes ! " was the universal ex-
clamation. Every citizen, in imitation of
Egetus, contributed a part of his wealth. The
next step was to select an artist, and here
again they were unanimous ; Chares of Lin-
dus was at once chosen. He was the favorite
disciple of Lysippus, and in the early bloom
of manhood ; but what gave more interest to
the affair was the fact that he was the grand-
son of old Egetus, and would have been the
inheritor of the possessions now dedicated to
the statue.

He was requested to name the sum neces-
sary for executing a bronze Colossus. He
named what he thought adequate for a stat-
ue fifty feet high. The citizens doubled the
sum, and requested him to erect a statue sev-
enty cubits high (one hundred and five feet).

He immediately set about constructing it.
Its feet were to rest on the two moles which
formed the entrance of the harbor. A wind-
ing staircase was to ascend within to the top,
from which could be discerned by glasses the
shores of Syria, and the ships which sailed on
the coast of Egypt. Around its neck the
glasses were to be fastened for general use.

The life of an artist is full of toil and un-
certainty. His calculation often falls short of
the necessary expense, and his generous na-

112 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

ture sinks under the mortification. Chares of
Lindus worked with ardor ; his elevated con-
ceptions could not be subjugated to the items
of expense. While the Colossus was rising in
its glorious* majesty, the poor artist began to
comprehend that the sum deposited in his
hands was wholly inadequate to the comple-
tion. Had his venerable grandfather, Egetus,
been living, he would have found in him a
counsellor and friend, but he had been borne
to his last asylum, in his ninetieth year, and
Chares could only consult his tender and
sensitive wife, who took the hue of her im-
pressions from the poor artist. For twelve
years he had labored upon the statue, scarcely
allowing himself seasons of rest. Want and
poverty they could struggle with, but disgrace
never. He well remembered the accusation
brought against Phidias. " Alas ! " said he,
"I have no gold to demonstrate my inno-
cence." His cheek grew pale and his eye
languid, still he continued his labor. There
is an instinct in woman often more sure than
calculation. As his wife watched the trem-
blin'g hand, the wild glances, of her husband,
a thought came over her that for a moment
checked her circulation ; — the glance was a
conviction of insanity. Her course was at
once decided. She determined, feeble and

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 113

timid as she was, to go to the authorities of
the city, and state the whole truth. The
sweet attributes of mercy live in every age ; it
was three hundred years before the coming of
the Saviour that these events took place, yet
the fountain of human charity was then well-
ing up. They listened to her statement, and
sent her back with comfort and consolation.

Shall we go on with this story, or shall we
count it as a fable, as the Italian historian
Muratori has done ? No, let us believe in its
truth ; let us not, as seems to be the wisdom
of modern times, veil all things in doubt ; let
us with generous faith embrace the records of
ancient history, and be instructed by the past.
With impatient steps she returned to her hus-
band. " All will now be well ! " she ex-
claimed to herself; "we shall again be happy,
and he will live to see the noble work com-
pleted."

She entered the chamber ; all was stillness
and solemnity. She turned ; — alas ! what
horror met her sight! She had indeed rightly
read insanity in his eye, but too late to save
him. Suspended by a cord, the deed of sui-
cide was accomplished, and the sorrow and
despair of the artist were ended.

Laches, a fellow-countryman and celebrated
artist, finished the mighty statue. As it stood
8

114 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

with each foot placed in the opposite moles,
the loaded vessels of Egypt and Tyre passed
beneath, and landed near the burial-place of
the artist ; for the Rhodians, with a sensibility
which did them credit, decreed the honors of
funeral rites to Chares, and appointed his
burial-place near the statue of the god.

For many years the Colossus of Rhodes
stood in all its grandeur, and was allowed by
Pliny the elder to have excited more astonish-
ment than all the other colossal statues ever
known. The Rhodians considered it as an
object of divine worship, and as the one God
before whom all nations ought to bow. It
was after a day of public ceremony in honor
of Apollo, that the heavens grew dark, a fu-
rious hurricane arose, and lofty trees were
levelled. The zealous worshippers, trembling
and affrighted, called on their deity for pro-
tection. At length, the rocking of the earth
drove them to caverns. Suddenly a tremen-
dous crash was heard ; — the god of sixty
years had fallen ; the monster of art had been
unable to save himself. The statue was bro-
ken off just below the knee, and lay a ruin.

Many a wanderer took its huge dimensions.
Pliny relates that few persons could clasp its
thumb, and that its fingers were as long as
common statues. Flaxman, in his Lectures,

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 115

gives an engraving of the head of the Rhodian
Colossus. It is thought that the fine heads of
the sun which are stamped on the Rhodian
coins were a representation of the ancient Co-
lossus. The statue lay in ruins, till Rhodes,
the city of wealth, of taste, and consecrated to
Apollo, became the prey of the Saracens in
A. D. 684, when it was beaten to pieces and
sold to a Jew merchant, who loaded above
nine hundred camels with its spoils. Strabo
and Pliny, who lived at the time of the Co-
lossus, both attest its actual existence.

When the decline of sculpture is spoken of,
it must be remembered that it was declining
by slow decrees. Beautiful copies were yet
sent forth, and marble repetitions of ancient
bronzes. Many of the antiquities remaining'
at this day belong to the era before us. For
a long time sculpture retained its majestic
gait and noble features. Its history is inter-
woven with the history of Greece itself. Such
artists remained as Antheus, Callistratus, Po-
lycletus, Apollodorus, Athenodorus, and Age-
sander.

It is supposed that the famous group of the
Laocoon, found in the baths of Titus in 1506,
was executed during this period, and was the
united work of the preceding artists. Many
of the antique marbles remaining belong to
this era.

116 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

We must look to the history of Greece for
a full revelation of the history of sculpture.
The Achaean League and the noble efforts of
Aratus and Philopoemen gave hope and vigor
to the nation. The Amazon at the Vatican
is one of the masterpieces of the Grecian
school, but the name of its author is not, so
far as we recollect, attached to it. The Knife-
grinder, called by the Italians " II Rotatore,"
at Florence, is much admired. Silenus and
the Infant Bacchus are well worth studying, at
Florence. Hercules in Repose, by Glycon, an
artist contemporary with Alexander, was dis-
covered among the ruins of Caracalla's baths.
The celebrated Venus de' Medici, in the Flor-
ence gallery, is represented as landing on the
shores of Cythera. As early as the sixteenth
century it was placed in the gardens of the
Medici at Rome, and was carried to Florence
in 1680. Napoleon conveyed it, among the
spoils of art, to Paris. It was restored to Italy
in 1815. The Venus of the Capitol is consid-
ered fine, but it wants much to make it equal
the beauty of the Venus de' Medici. The
Dying Gladiator at the Capitol is a noble
study.

Sculpture for a time awoke from her slum-
ber, and produced statues of heroes and con-
temporary warriors. Antheus, Callistratus,

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

117

Polycletus, Apollodorus, Praxiteles, and others,
demonstrated that genius, though crushed,
could struggle into life. Then, had the Genius
of Liberty hovered over Greece, she might
have resumed her ancient glory. But it was
not so. The AchaBan League was dissolved,
and Corinth with its Capitol laid in the dust.
This world of beauty and greatness is no
more, and we cherish in her mutilated works
a school of education for our youth.

During forty-five years after the death of
Alexander the schools of Lysippus and Praxi-
teles maintained their rank. The influence
of these great men still continued. They
both survived Alexander ; but after their
deaths original works of magnitude were not
produced. Pliny considers that sculpture
lay dormant during one hundred and twenty
years.

118 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

CHAPTER VII.

ETRURIA AND ROME.

WE often use terms without much idea of
their derivation; for instance, Etruscan fig-
ures, Etruscan borders, and Etruscan orna-
ments. It might be amusing to find out what
ideas are often attached to these specimens
by the jeweller, the embroiderer, &c. ; also it
would be fair to inquire into the ideas of the
purchaser.

We should find many of them unconscious
of the origin, and wholly ignorant of the beau-
tiful region of Etruria, bounded west by the
Mediterranean Sea, east by the Apennines,
north by the river Magra, and south by the
Tiber. The chief river was the Arno. This
country of Etruria, lying in the centre of Italy,
where now mellow Tuscany extends, where
Florence sheds its fading leaves, was in the
height of its glory when Rome was build-
ing, and served as a model for the new gov-
ernment. The inhabitants were eminent in

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 119

architecture, ship-building, the formation of
dikes, and other scientific works ; also for
works of plastic art. They had gems, sar-
cophagi, vases, &c., some of which have been
handed down to us, beautifully sculptured.
They excelled in ornamental painting, con-
spicuous for form and taste rather than color-
ing. Indeed, they seem to have been unac-
quainted with the true beauty of colors, using
them in their simple state, — black, brown,
and red. They were great lovers of theatrical
amusements, illustrated by music and poetry.
This nation sunk under the political storms
of the age, and their own internal dissensions,
some of the most prolific sources of ruin.

The modern traveller in his progress through
Italy will pause with peculiar interest in that
region where once flourished Etruria, now
Tuscany, and remember with awe that he is
walking over the ruins of a nation. There is
scarcely a spot in Italy more interesting to
the antiquarian. There are constantly found
remains of sculptured vases and Egyptian
relics, some in a perfect state, others much
injured. Volterra, Bolsena, Chiusi, Arezzo,
Perugia, and other places, are included in
Tuscany. The Romans carried from Vol-
scinium, or Bolsena, alone two thousand stat-
ues. It is the fate of conquered nations to

120 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

build up the glory of their conquerors, by
their arts and improvements.

After Rome had begun its barbarous con-
quests over the then civilized world, it is diffi-
' cult to separate the works of different nations.
The Etruscans were far advanced in civiliza-
tion, probably as early as the Greeks, and
there is an evident connection between the
mythology of Etruria and Egypt. The an-
tiquarian has been, and will continue to be,
deeply interested in studying out the origin
and history of this nation; but it is its knowl-
edge of the plastic arts to which we now par-
ticularly refer. There are but few monuments
of their sculpture remaining. One is the She-
wolf of the Capitol; Winckelmann supposes
this to have been the same which was struck
by lightning previous to the murder of Julius
Caesar. A figure was found at Pesaro, in
1530, representing an Apollo; and one was
also found at Arezzo, of Minerva, in 1534.
There are a number more which have been
exhumed, and are still preserved in the Royal
Gallery of Florence.

The Etruscans were celebrated for their
works in terra-cotta, but their vases have
excited the greatest admiration. The most
ancient were in the Egyptian style, and so
much resembling Egyptian art, that it has

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 121

been doubted whether they were not actually
Egyptian vases. There is so much, however,
to corroborate the idea of their being native
works, that this conjecture is relinquished.
Black vases were the staple manufacture of
Volterra. The tombs of the Etruscans were
of stone, and often beautifully wrought. The
figures on the sepulchral tombs were usually
reclining, with the head resting on the elbow,
supported by cushions.

If we speak of Etruria at the height of her
power, we shall undoubtedly rank her with
Greece in arts and improvements, and as even
preceding that nation in many works, and in
giving to Egyptian inventions their own spirit
and originality. But what we mostly know
of her is through her conquerors. The Etrus-
can power was supposed to be at its height
about the third century of Rome.

It is now an effort of imagination for the
traveller to recall this nation to mind as he
traverses the beautiful region of Tuscany,
once the Etruria of Italy. As a people they
live only in memory ; even their language is
lost, and the remnants of art and taste which
once belonged exclusively to them have served
only to heighten the triumphs of Rome.

This victorious nation seemed to be inspire
with the thirst of savage supremacy, only

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valuing the treasures of Greece as proofs of
conquest. With despoiling hand it laid waste
the beautiful region of Etruria, and in about
four hundred and eighty years destroyed the
only native school of art in Italy, and carried
off two thousand statues from Volscinium.

Rome has been so long styled the Mistress
of the World, that we can with difficulty
recognize her in her early stage of ignorance
and plunder. The anecdote is often men-
tioned, of the great value the Corinthians
affixed to the picture of Bacchus, which the
Roman soldiers had converted to a table.
The barbarians, seeing their extreme desire to
regain it, and astonished at the great sums
they offered, concluded that gold must be con-
cealed in it, and the Roman general gave it in
keeping to a common messenger, charging
him to deliver it safe under pain of being
obliged to paint one equally good !

Cato opposed the introduction of the Greek
statues into Rome, because they formed such
an entire contrast to their Roman deities that
it would throw ridicule upon the latter.

Pompey seems to have been in earnest in
wishing to give the arts a home in Italy.
Also Caesar and Sylla made efforts on the
subject. They invited Grecian artists to
Rome ; but it may well be supposed with

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 123

how little enthusiasm artists could work for a
nation, who had robbed them of what they
held most dear, their liberty, and had sunk
them in the bonds of slavery.

The so much celebrated statue of Pompey
was long supposed to be the one placed by
him near his house, and at the base of which
Caesar expired, immolated, as it were, to the
manes of his rival. There is something pain-
ful in finding the associations of years scat-
tered by the breath of criticism. One of the
reasons given why this could not be the statue
of Pompey is, that it was draped, and the
Grecians allowed no drapery to their heroes.

The Augustan age was the golden age of
Rome. We should naturally expect to find
original artists during this period, but of all
the sculptors every one is Greek. We hear
of Praxiteles, Arcesilaus, Zopirus, and Evan-
der, but all of them are Greeks. Augustus
revived the arts, but they were the lifeless
remains of what had been, and discover an
immediate declension from higher excellence.

The reign of his successor, Tiberius, afford-
ed no encouragement to the arts ; he looked
upon statues with positive contempt. Cali-
gula directed Grecian statues to be brought
to Rome, and even gave orders that the
Jupiter of Phidias should be transplanted

124 " FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

there ; but representations were made that it
would be destroyed in the attempt, and he
consoled himself with having some of the rare
and beautiful Grecian statues decapitated and
his own head put upon them.

Of Claudius we cannot say much that is
better; he had the head of Augustus put on
the statues of Alexander, the Macedonian
hero, and fondly imagined himself the patron
of the arts.

Nero, his successor, was complimented as
being the equal of Claudius in his apprecia-
tion of the arts ; and truly it would seem so,
for he caused one of the finest statues of Alex-
ander, made by Lysippus, to be gilded. There
is nothing left to redeem his character even in
matters of taste. He appears to have been
rapacious after what was appreciated by
others. The heads of Seneca are not sup-
posed to be genuine. It is true that many
beautiful statues were found at Antium, the
place of his birth ; for instance, the Gladiator
Borghese, made by Agasias of Ephesus, and
the celebrated Apollo Belvidere, of both of
which we have casts in the Boston Athe-
naeum.

A succession of emperors follow who are
little marked, such as Vespasian, Domitian,
and Nerva. Titus, the son and successor of

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 125

Vespasian, did more for the arts in the two
years that he reigned, than Tiberius had done
in twenty-two.

The reign of Trajan diffused new vigor
throughout the empire, and together with
learning, the arts felt the fostering hand of the
monarch. The most eminent monument of
his taste in this particular is the column called
by his name, which stood in the centre of the
square of the Forum. There is also a colossal
head of the Emperor in the Villa Albani.

Hadrian, or Adrian, the successor of Trajan,
was a true lover of the arts, and it is said was
himself a sculptor. His desire of knowledge
was insatiable ; he travelled to Arabia and
Egypt, observing all the monuments of an-
tiquity.

Greece, no longer bowed down by op-
pressors, again arose to temporary greatness.
Adrian loved Athens because she had been
the seat of the arts. He embellished the tem-
ple of Jupiter, and paid almost divine honors
to Grecian heroes and sculptors.

The house of Adrian was at Tivoli, and
front this spot some of the best marbles have
been taken. The head of Antinoiis was found
here ; of this statue we have a cast at the
Athenaeum. He was the favorite of Adrian.

After Adrian, the Antonines still protected

126 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

the arts. Marcus Aurelius was acquainted
with design, but good artists were rare, and
the Sophists, a sect that flourished at that
time, opposed all talent and genius, thinking
nothing worth attention but abstruse study.

The statue of Marcus Aurelius, in bronze, is
well known ; it was erected before the Church
of St. John Lateran, because the house in
which the Emperor was born was situated
here. The figure of the Emperor was buried
under the ruins of Rome in the Middle Ages.
Only the horse was then mentioned, and it
was called the horse of Constantine. When
there were celebrations at Rome, at the time
the Popes held their seat at Avignon, wine
and water were made to issue from the head
of the horse, — wine from one nostril, water
from the other.

At what time the figure of Marcus Aurelius
was replaced in its seat is not mentioned ; but
when it was removed to the Capitol, a public
officer was appointed for it, who was called
the u keeper of the horse."

Commodus was the unworthy son of Mar-
cus Aurelius; his disgraceful reign seems to
have excited as much indignation as that of
Nero, though it was not distinguished by
equal atrocities. It is unfortunate that the
fine arts should have suffered from political

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 127

passions and party resentment. The Senate,
resolving to annihilate all remembrance of
Commodus, ordered the busts and images of
him to be destroyed, and extended their re-
sentment to works he had caused to be exe-
cuted. In digging under his superb residence
at Nettuno, on the sea-shore, a quantity of
heads and statues have been found, which
were evidently mutilated by design, and with
the use of instruments.

Under the reign of Commodus, the Greeks
had fallen into such a state of barbarism, that
they were ignorant of their own language.
One of their poets who imitated Homer, was
considered as obscure as Homer himself. The
works and sculpture after this time prove the
total decline of the arts. The Arch of Severus
is a poor imitation of more ancient works.

Heliogabalus, who has left a name clothed
with ignominy, caused one work of merit to
be sculptured. It is supposed to be Mcesa,
his grandmother, who presided in his senate
of women. This work was at the Villa
Albani.

Alexander Severus succeeded Heliogabalus,
at the age of fourteen. His youth was dis-
tinguished by his love of the arts and of let-
ters. He honored great men as he honored
the gods. His sepulchral urn, in the Capitol,

128 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

was supposed to contain his ashes. It has
since, however, been doubted, as all things
may be ; for he was massacred in a revolt of
his soldiers, at Mayence, in his thirtieth year.
He was succeeded by Caracalla.

In speaking of the total decline of the arts,
there seems to be proof that their seeds
were planted too deep for destruction, and were
always ready to spring up under favorable cir-
cumstances. It is correct, however, to say,
that the decline of sculpture and painting may
be fixed before Constantine. As soon as this
emperor resolved to rear a new Rome on the
site of the ancient Byzantium, he collected the
most magnificent works of art, and summoned
the best artists around him. He preserved the
statues of the gods, not as objects of worship,
but as beautiful creations. Christians of a
later, though less enlightened period, in their
fanatic zeal, destroyed these pagan deities,
and did more injury to the arts than the early
barbarians.* It would seem surprising that
so many heathen specimens have come down
to us under these circumstances. But the ad-
herents of the old mythology took equal pains
to secrete and preserve images which they so

* During the eighth century the image-breakers, or Icono-
clasts, flourished. The blind infatuation of these barbarians
is greatly to be deplored.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 129

much valued. They buried them in desolate
places where no altar ever stood, and often
accident has since brought them to light.
Constantine caused new works to be execut-
ed,— Christ as the Good Shepherd, Daniel in
the Lions' Den, and several others of Scrip-
tural authority.

In the reign of Julian the Apostate, the
heathen temples were restored, and new stat-
ues of the gods erected. After him came
again the furious and fanatic zeal of the
Christians. Every thing pagan was destroyed;
heathen temples were pulled down to build
churches, and statues of bronze melted to cast
church vessels out of them.

It was not till Theodoric, in the year 493,
possessed himself of supreme power in Italy,
that bounds were set to the rage for destruc-
tion ; he did his utmost to preserve what re-
mained of ancient art, and even punished
with death the theft and destruction of statues.

Pope Gregory, however, afterwards caused
numberless statues to be destroyed.

The Crusades have been regarded as favor-
ing the advancement of the arts. Though
they may have introduced some Eastern
works and materials, they impoverished the
the land. Bishops, abbots, and monasteries
flourished, however, at this period, a munifi-
9

130 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

cent style began to prevail, and in this way
the Crusades indirectly promoted the arts.

In the eleventh century Germany out-
stripped all other countries. Statues were ex-
ecuted by the order of Charlemagne at Aix-la-
Chapelle. German artists practised in Italy,
Spain, and France : specimens still remain in
England. It was not till 1250 that Nicholas
of Pisa introduced improvements and made
almost an era in the arts. He formed the
first school of sculpture for modern Europe.
The works of this master and those of his
scholars are still remaining in his native city
of Sienna. In 1350, his grandson, Andrea
Pisano, established the first academy of de-
sign at Florence, and before the close of the
century, sculpture had become a national art.

In tracing the art of sculpture down from
its origin, we see that it was variously af-
fected by the Assyrian, Egyptian, Grecian,
and Roman mind, and in its unfolding it
was essentially modified by the genius of
these several people. The Romans , alone
brought to it no accessions of original
wealth. They borrowed from Etruria and
from Greece, and while they decorated their
halls and baths, their palaces, temples, and
public places, with the spoils of Athens and
the works of Grecian artists, they felt no

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 131

genuine reverence for art, and paid it no
enthusiastic honor. They were only acquaint-
ed with sculpture through the destruction of a
conquered people. Their own genius was for
war, mechanism, and social order ; that which
had been the life and even the religion of
the age of Pericles at Athens, was adopted
only as extrinsic elegance at Rome, — the
exhibited ornament, the fine and affected grace
of the age of Augustus. Rome therefore
may almost be stricken out of the sisterhood
of sculpturing nations. She was great as the
conqueror and plunderer of Greece. The
chisel became the servant of the sword. It
was sufficient for them that they could trans-
port statues enough to fill their public and
private halls, and shine forth in meretricious
splendor. In one department, however, the
Roman sculptors, in time, attained true excel-
lence. From the age of Julian to that of
Gallienus, their busts are said to deserve great
praise, and even to take an honorable place
beside the Grecian masterpieces. They did
not, it is true, possess the ideal nobility which
belonged to a greater age, but there was the
expression of individual character and mind,
of Roman talent, of manly force and clear
sense.

It is only, however, in busts that praise

132 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

is given to Roman sculpture. In the ideal
departments of the art, in all that we strictly
mean by sculpture, Greece closed the series
of inventive nations. In her the art cul-
minated and shone with unrivalled bright-
ness. Greece appropriated the realm of beau-
ty, and made it for ever her own. The world
then awaited a new impulse to be given to all
intellectual exertion. Christianity finally gave
this impulse, but till then Greece remained,
not only supreme over her conquerors, but in
art, as in letters, mistress of the world.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 133

CHAPTER VIII.

SCULPTURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES. — LIFE OF
FILIPPO BRUNELLESCHL

THE Middle Ages comprehend a period
which extended from the sixth to the twelfth,
and some extend it to the fourteenth century.
During that time we have but little light, for
universal darkness prevailed ; the few gleams
of day which reach us proceed from the pro-
gress of Christianity.

Italy was not wholly subdued, for we find
that in the eleventh century her cities pro-
claimed themselves independent. Venice was
the first that established her liberty, but Pisa
was the first which founded a native school
of art.

In the year 1064, the great Cathedral, or
Duomo, as it is usually called, was com-
menced under Buschetto, the first eminent
sculptor in Italy. The commerce of the
Pisans had enabled them to procure many
of the ruins of Grecian sculpture. Buschetto
in his boyhood had been struck with the

134 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

beauty of these fragments ; as he advanced in
years, his admiration grew into a species of
veneration, and he persuaded the Pisans to let
him construct the celebrated Duomo, in which
he might avail himself of the capitals and
columns that were then lying useless.

In the year 1152, II Buono founded at
Naples the Capuan Castle, and also erected
the spires of St. Mark's at Venice. He was
an architect and sculptor, and he assisted
in decorating the Duomo at Pisa, and orna-
menting the Campanile, or leaning tower,
and also in preserving and restoring the Gre-
cian Sarcophagi in the Campo Santo.

Niccola da Pisa deserves a more than pass-
ing notice. He introduced a decided improve-
ment in sculpture ; he restored the antique
style of the head and casting of the drapery.
About 1225, he sculptured, at Bologna, the
superb urn of San Domenico, and was after-
wards called Niccola of the Urn. His greatest
work was the altar of San Donato, at Arez-
zo, which cost thirty thousand gold florins.
He inspired artists with the desire of excel-
lence, and was able to teach a perfection he
could not himself attain. His groups were
crowded and wanted expression. Giovanni
Pisano was his son, and distinguished as a
sculptor and architect. Andrea Pisano was

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 135

his grandson, and produced many celebrated
works early in the fourteenth century.

The Florentines were a liberal and aspiring
people, and in this age of reviving art they
determined to build a cathedral of such ex-
tent and magnificence that it could not be
excelled by the power of man. To Arnolfo
di Lapo, a distinguished architect, they in-
trusted this arduous undertaking.

The foundation of the edifice was laid on
the birthday of the Virgin. The whole peo-
ple of Florence assembled, and many from
the neighboring states ; the greatest enthusi-
asm prevailed; the statues of the Virgin were
thought to wear a peculiar air of serenity and
approbation ; indeed, some averred that they
were observed to shed tears of delight. In
the presence of this vast concourse, in the year
1298, the church received its name, Santa
Maria del Fiore.

The cost of this cathedral was very great.
The Pope and Legate therefore thought it
but judicious to grant large and free indul-
gences to whomsoever should contribute to
this Christian enterprise.

Arnolfo di Lapo proceeded to lay the foun-
dation of this noble edifice, and accomplished
wonders in its execution ; but death, sum-
moned him from the vast undertaking, and

136 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

his associate, Andrea Pisano, followed him.
The church of Santa Maria del Fiore was
left in an unfinished state ; Arnolfo's plans
for the cupola were not understood, and it
was considered a work almost beyond human
ability.

We find Andrea Orcagna celebrated as
contemporary with Andrea Pisano. Luca
della Robbia is mentioned at the end of the
fourteenth century, as having discovered the
secret of covering terra-cotta models with a
colored varnish, which rendered them as hard
as marble, and also as durable. This secret
is lost.

"We now arrive at the fifteenth century, dis-
tinguished as a new era of the arts. The
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries have been
termed the infancy of modern sculpture; with
the fifteenth, its manhood begins.

Filippo Brunelleschi was diminutive in
stature, but possessed great intellect. For a
few years the want of outward endowments
depressed his mind, but there is that in true
genius which triumphs over accidental defects.
His noble spirit soon gave him supremacy
over others, and enabled him to subdue the
discontent he had felt in early life, which was
probably engendered by inferiors around him.
He assumed the noble resolution of making

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 137

himself distinguished by self-denial and gen-
erosity, and by kindness and disinterested ser-
vices to his fellow-beings.

It was striking to see how great an empire
his excellent judgment and dignity of mind
often gave him over those who were older
than himself, and much more outwardly
gifted. He was always calm, self-possessed,
never excited by passion, and eager to com-
municate knowledge to any of his associates.
He was known as the enemy of vice and the
friend of virtue. In every way in his power
he promoted the cause of industry, and con-
stantly engaged in teaching the poor arts
and employments that might mitigate their
necessities. To give money, he said, was the
easiest way of being charitable, and also the
least efficient ; to give industry and capability,
such as often resulted from instruction, was an
effectual method of helping the virtuous poor.

It was not long before the little Filippo, as
his family and friends styled him, began to fill
a gigantic space in their esteem. On all im-
portant questions he was consulted, frequently
by men six feet high, who, to their astonish-
ment, found themselves looking up to him.
His father wished him at first to follow his
own profession as a notary, but perceiving
that his mind was intent on various ques-

138 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

tions, he determined to leave him uninflu-
enced in his choice of a profession, giving him
all useful opportunities of instruction.

Filippo rejoiced in this enlightened resolu-
tion of his father, and resolved that he should
never have cause to repent of his confidence.
He requested him to place him in the guild
of the goldsmiths. He soon excelled in the
art of setting precious stones, and began to
execute small figures in silver. The first
works which attracted much notice were two
prophets in half length, which were placed
over the altar of San Jacopo di Pistoja.
These attracted much observation, and were
considered very beautiful specimens of work-
manship.

It soon became evident that his genius
could not be confined to the goldsmiths' guild;
he began to turn his attention to reckoning
the divisions of time, to the adjustment of
weights, the movement of wheels, and made
several beautiful timepieces with his own
hands.

Fortunately for both, Filippo became ac-
quainted with Donatello, a young sculptor of
great promise, who had already gained dis-
tinction. They at once contracted a warm
friendship, and, finding in each other qualities
and powers which assimilated, became so

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 139

strongly attached that one seemed unable to
live without the other.

We can hardly imagine any thing more
beautiful than the alliance of gifted minds,
where taste and genius form as it were the
cement between them. The works of Dona-
tello called forth a corresponding talent in his
friend, and about that time a statue of Santa
Maria Maddalena was wanted by the monks
of Santo Spirito, in Florence, to be placed in
one of their chapels. Filippo had desired
such -an opportunity of cultivating and exer-
cising his skill, and, encouraged and urged by
Donatello, he executed one in linden-wood,
which was considered a triumph of art. Un-
fortunately, the church was burned in 1471, and
with it this and all other of its treasures of art.

Filippo gave great attention to perspective,
which was then imperfectly understood. He
invented the art of taking a ground plan and
dividing by intersecting lines, making perspec-
tive so simple that we can hardly estimate
aright its difficulty and importance, in the
present day, as a discovery. Considering per-
spective as indispensable to correct drawing,
he took the greatest interest in teaching it to
all artists. This art, being new, awoke much
attention, arid Massacio, a young painter
whose name has come down to us, could not

140 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

sufficiently acknowledge the kindness of his
disinterested teacher.

Filippo also became deeply interested in the
mathematical sciences, acquired a knowledge
of geometry, and often astonished the scien-
tific by a learning superior to their own.

At that time the Scriptures were beginning
to be diffused. Filippo at once turned his
attention to the study of them. He was
present at discussions, and at length spoke
with so much eloquence that his hearers said
they were listening to St. Paul. The works
of Dante were his great delight, and his mind
formed a thousand spiritual associations with
the great author. But though his thoughts
were continually at work on abstract subjects,
he left all at the sight of his beloved Donatello,
who, he said, gave him more pleasure than any
thing on earth, for he warmed and blessed his
heart. They consulted each other in all their
difficulties, and frequently conferred respect-
ing works of art. The circumstance of the
Christ and wooden crucifix took place at this
time, which will be related hereafter. They
sometimes received commissions for united
works, in which they labored together har-
moniously and with mutual appreciation.

The Florentines now determined to recon-
struct the two doors of the church of San

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

Giovanni, a work which it was thought no
masters were capable of doing since the death
of Andrea Pisano. Accordingly, notice was
sent to a variety of artists. Among them
Filippo and Donatello were visited. A year
was allowed them to produce specimens and
designs. At the end of the year the whole
number assembled. The one chosen was
Lorenzo Ghiberti. Both Filippo and Dona-
tello withdrew their designs, declaring that
his was superior, and that he ought to be the
artist. Some preferred Filippo's design, but
neither he nor Donatello would listen to it,
both agreeing it was inferior.

The commission being given to Lorenzo,
the two friends departed for Rome, resolving
to remain there some time. When Filippo
saw the magnificent churches and buildings
of the metropolis, he was overcome with sur-
prise. He had already acquired fame as a
sculptor, and had proved that he could excel
in statuary, but he now conceived the idea of
devoting himself to architecture, and leaving
sculpture to his friend, who, he thought, ex-
celled him in that branch of art. " I have
no mortification on that account, my dear
Donatello," said he, " nor do I wish for the
vainglory of surpassing you, but I think archi-
tecture a more useful art, and myself better
calculated to excel in it."

142 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Donatello replied, that he was perfectly sure
Filippo would excel in whatever he undertook.
He did not remonstrate at his determination,
but readily assisted him in his new studies,
and in all his measurements. Filippo had a
great purpose revolving in his mind, and this
was to undertake the cupola of Santa Maria
del Fiore in Florence. No one had been
found courageous enough to undertake it after
the death of Arnolfo di Lapo. He kept his
own counsel, but studied the Pantheon at
Rome, and all the difficulties that had ob-
structed the vaulting.

The money of the two friends falling short,
after they had been some time in Rome,
Donatello concluded to return to Florence,
while Filippo supplied his wants by setting
precious stones for the goldsmiths. After con-
tinuing a few weeks, he began to imagine the
air of Rome did not agree with him, and he
returned to Florence. Some of his friends
said he pined for his other half, Donatello.

There was at this time great excitement
about constructing the cupola of Santa Maria;
the wardens determined it should no longer
remain in its unfinished state, and they re-
quested Filippo's opinion on the subject. He
gave them much information upon the dif-
ficulty of performing the work, and advised

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

iem to issue proposals to all celebrated archi-
tects, requesting them to be present within a
year from that time, and on a particular day;
that they should assemble artists from all
nations, — as many as they could possibly
collect ; then it would be easy to determine
who had the best ideas on the subject, and
would undertake it with the most capacity
and the greatest probability of success. The
proposal of Brunelleschi pleased the syndics
and wardens, and accordingly it was adopted.
In the year 1420, all these foreign masters
were assembled, together with the most cele-
brated of the Florentine artists. It was a
curious sight to see them, with their different
costumes, gestures, language, &c. Again
the wardens, syndics, and superintendents of
Santa Maria were all fully determined that
a decision should now be made.

It was arranged that every one should speak
in turn, and exhibit his method. The variety
of proposals was as great as the number of
masters. Some asserted that an immense
scaffolding was necessary in the church ;
others, that a column should be erected in
the centre of the building below ; others, that
various columns should be erected to sup-
port the cupola on the top of the church.
For the various opinions we would refer to

144 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Vasari, from whom much of this account is
taken.

After all had been listened to with profound
attention, Filippo came forward. The for-
eigners looked at him with surprise, for, as we
have described, he was diminutive in his ap-
pearance, and at a first glance one saw nothing
imposing in his countenance. The clear, de-
cided manner in which he expressed his views
called forth a smile from many of the bluster-
ing strangers. However he went on, stating
that the cupola could be erected at a much
less expense than had been proposed, and
without any framework whatever.

The assembly could no longer withhold
their derision ; they advised him to exercise
his eloquence on some other subject, as he
certainly could not be considered sane on that.
Filippo, however, persevered; at length the
patience of the assembly wholly failed, and it
gives some idea of the rudeness of the times,
when we are informed that the orator was
taken up bodily and removed from the hall.

Filippo, though much offended, determined
to put his views of the method which ought
to be adopted on paper. After much debate
his excellent judgment prevailed, and as he
had always been most highly esteemed as an
artist and a man, it was determined that the

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

work should be given to him, and a suitable
allowance made for his expenses. Thus far
Brunelleschi was satisfied, but not so when
he found that it was considered a work of
such responsibility that another ought to
share it, and they gave him for a colleague
Lorenzo Ghiberti, who had acquired the high-
est fame by constructing the door of San
Giovanni. When Filippo understood this, he
was indignant; he knew perfectly well that
Lorenzo was not adequate to the task.
When he mentioned his objections, they ac-
cused him of a low feeling of envy towards
Ghiberti.

" How can that be ? " said Filippo calmly.
" Did I not allow him the superiority when all
our plans were exhibited for the door of San
Giovanni ? Did I not urge you to appoint
him at once, and did I not fully acquiesce in
all the honors paid to him when the work was
nobly accomplished ? Because an artist excels
in one department, does it follow that he must
excel in another wholly distinct? What has
ornamenting the doors of San Giovanni to do
with building the cupola of Santa Maria?
The one requires a thorough study of architec-
ture, the other is sculpture in its minute form."
There was a strong party, however, for
Ghiberti among the dignitaries of the Church,

l

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and he was appointed colleague, with equal
power and an annual allowance. But, what
was most trying to Brunelleschi, they affected
to consider Ghiberti as the projector of the
plan, and Filippo as merely the executor.

The morning after this passed, Donatello
found his friend sitting in a contemplative
mood. " Well, my dear Filippo," said he,
" you have now an opportunity of proving to
the world that your statement was a true one,
and showing your enemies that Ghiberti can
do nothing in this great work."

" I have nearly come to the conclusion,"
said Brunelleschi, " of relinquishing this un-
dertaking."

" Is it possible," said Donatello with vehe-
mence, " that you will in this way suffer your
enemies to triumph over you?"

" Nay," said Filippo, " I do not take the
same view that you do. I cannot consider
these men my enemies ; I have done nothing
to injure them."

" Thou art as simple and as innocent as a
child, my poor Filippo. Dost thou think that
envy leagues itself with justice? No, no, it
is because thou art so noble and good, so
much better than all other men, that they
envy thee. But complete thy work; do not
allow them to triumph. Show them that

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 117

thou art truly great. I beseech thee, by the
love I bear thee, not to relinquish this work.
Wilt thou not consent, my own Filippo, for
my sake ? "

" I will," returned Brunelleschi, putting his
small hand into the large, powerful one of
Donatello ; " thou hast conquered."

From this time the artist devoted himself
wholly to the work he had undertaken. But
the vexation ^as even greater than he had
foreseen. His work was often stopped for the
consideration of Ghiberti, who, after days of
delay, would pompously announce that he
approved of the plan.

At length, however, what with anxiety and
injustice, Filippo became seriously ill, and
was confined to his bed. This was, upon the
whole, a fortunate circumstance ; for the whole
work, when it had reached a critical point,
devolved upon Ghiberti. The workmen came
to Filippo and requested his directions. His
only answer was, " Go to my colleague."

Lorenzo, however, could not direct them ;
the work was wholly at a stand. There en-
sued the greatest trouble and confusion ; the
builders complained that they had no direc-
tions, and the stonecutters and masons were
clamorous. At length the wardens were com-
pelled to go to Filippo and humbly implore

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him to give written directions, if he were not
able to superintend in person.

" Why do you come to me ? " said the artist.
" Where is Lorenzo ? He is my colleague
by your appointment, — go to him."

"We have been to him," they replied, "but
he says he will not do any thing without
you."

" Strange ! " replied Filippo ironically ; " I
can do well enough without him ! But I must
request you to leave me to the rest I want."

Donatello, who was seated by the bedside
of his friend, now arose, and with an exulting
flourish opened the door and showed them
out.

" It is evident," said the wardens, " that he
is determined to do the work alone or not at
all, and we may as well come to his terms at
once." Accordingly a submissive letter was
written to him by the wardens, proposing to
remove Lorenzo.

Filippo, by the advice of Donatello, did not
recover too fast, but let them feel the conse-
quences of their obstinacy some time longer.
He then announced that he would resume
the direction of the work, if it were left en-
tirely to him.

Lorenzo complained so bitterly of the injus-
tice done him, that they suffered him to keep

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 149

his salary, and humbly requested Brunelleschi
to allow him to style himself colleague.

"I will do thus much for him," said Filippo;
" the work shall be divided into two distinct
parts, wholly separate; he shall have one part,
I the other ; he may select which he pleases."

Lorenzo was obliged to assent to this ar-
rangement, which at once exposed his igno-
rance of architecture; when the workmen
called on him for directions, he could give
none. It now became evident to all, that,
however beautifully he had sculptured the
doors of San Giovanni, he was wholly inade-
quate to the building of the cupola of Santa
Maria del Fiore, and he was dismissed from
the service.

The wardens and principal men became
eager to make amends to Filippo for all that
had passed, and they voted that, as it was
evident the whole labor of constructing the
cupola had hitherto fallen on him, he should
be the head and superintendent for life; and a
liberal annuity was secured to him, besides
compensation for past labor.

Filippo resumed his work with new energy.
The tide had turned, and he was now extolled
as the greatest architect in the world; and
this was true, for he had made architecture
his great study in Rome, and all his studies

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had been fitting him to master a work which
no other artist would undertake.

The views with which he first conceived the
project he explained thus : " Remembering
that it is a holy temple, dedicated to God and
the Virgin, I confidently trust that, for a work
executed to their honor, they will not fail to
infuse knowledge where it is now wanting,
and will bestow strength, wisdom, and genius
on him who shall consecrate his best powers
to their glory."

The building made rapid progress, and by
the constant oversight and industry of Filippo
the workmen were compelled to perform their
duty, and all was brought to a state of per-
fection that could not otherwise have been
obtained.

It was now necessary to construct a model
for the lantern, and Filippo was willing to
exhibit the one he had made, at the same
time modestly asserting that he would adopt
any better one that might be offered. All the
architects of Florence were determined to
outdo him ; they said he had reaped glory
enough. Even Lorenzo, not discouraged by
his former failure, presented a model ; and
one enterprising lady of the Gaddi family
exhibited an ingenious and pretty piece of
work. It was decided, however, that Filippo's

!

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 151

was the only model to be adopted. The
others were poor imitations of his, and he
was left, as he wished, to execute it alone.

In the midst of this project, full of fame
and honor, and blest by the serenity of an
innocent life and a peaceful conscience, he
was called away.

His death took place in 1446. It was deep-
ly deplored by his countrymen, who (as is
perhaps too customary, even in our day, with
respect to distinguished men) honored him
when dead more than when living.

We need not expatiate on the true-hearted
Donatello's feelings ; he long expressed his
sense of loneliness, and when high encomiums
were passed upon some of his own beautiful
works, he would reply, " Yes, they are very
well, but God could make but one man like
Fiiippo."

The most touching tribute to Brunelleschi,
however, was the grief of the poor artists
whom he had constantly aided and benefited.

He was buried with solemn obsequies
in Santa Maria del Fiore, the place of his
noble works. He left to the Italians the
memory of his excellence and extraordinary
talents.

Many verses honored his memory. The
following is a translation of one written by

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an intimate friend, who watched his progress
on the cupola of Santa Maria : —

" Stone upon stone I raise on high,

Circle on circle without end ;
So step by step, beyond the sky,
To heaven's great circle I ascend."

A sentence in the Latin language is in-
scribed upon his monument.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 153

CHAPTER IX.

DIFFUSION OF SCULPTURE. — LIFE OF
DONATELLO.

DURING the fifteenth century an attention
to sculpture began to spread among other
nations, Germany, France, and England; in
the latter country there are Gothic remains
even earlier. Sculpture was blended with
architecture, both in a rude but impressive
style. In Italy, however, sculpture was more
distinctly preserved, and though to Greece we
owe our earliest debt, still it must be ac-
knowledged that the fifteenth century consti-
tutes a splendid era. But preparatory to this
were sculptors and architects, who no doubt
gave the form and impress to distinguished
artists. The flourishing school we have al-
luded to of the Pisani, John, Nicold, and
Andrea, spread art and industry far and wide.

We have dwelt with pleasure and interest
upon Filippo Brunelleschi. His fine character
commands our respect, and the attachment
which existed between him and Donatello is

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honorable to human nature. They have been
called rival artists, but this term does not be-
long to them. Their paths, though side by
side, were distinct ; and although, had Filippo
devoted his whole life to sculpture, he might
have ranked as high in that art as Donatello,
he decided to turn his attention wholly to
architecture ; in doing this, he avowed that he
thought it a more useful art. His deep relig-
ious sensibility led him to spend hours in the
noble cathedrals, and there he first formed the
design of consecrating his powers to the tem-
ples of the Deity.

It is a striking feature of sculpture, that its
earliest inspirations were derived from religion.
Brunelleschi was eminently a sculptor; and
in all his improvements in architecture, he
consulted the proper manner in which lights
and shadows were to be thrown on objects
of sacred veneration, adding thereby to their
grandeur and sublimity. Brunelleschi rested
in the bosom of the Roman Church, where
some of the noblest and best men have re-
posed. Any foreigner who visits Florence,
and repairs to the Church of Santa Maria del
Fiore, must feel deep interest in the history
of the architect of the cupola. We now turn
to Donatello, his friend.

Donatello was born in 1383, at Florence.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 155

He early discovered a superior taste in the
arts of design, and even in his youthful at-
tempts excelled in carving. As he progressed
in years he made perspective a constant study,
and discovered a decided taste for architecture.

He was brought up in the family of Robert
Martelli, who was by profession an architect,
and most happy to find similar tastes and
superior talents in the youthful Donatello.

It was not long, however, before the young
artist decided to devote himself to sculpture.
The first work which made him known was the
Annunciation placed in the Church of Santa
Croce, in Florence. For the same chapel he
executed a crucifix in wood ; this occupied
a great proportion of his time, and he consid-
ered it the best work he ever accomplished.

Fortunately the intimacy between him and
Brunelleschi had been closely formed. While
all the world were admiring the crucifix,
and the artist himself could see no fault
in it, he conceived the idea that Filippo was
cold towards it ; at first he proudly deter-
mined to provoke no criticism by questions.
At length, however, his pride yielded, and
he said, " You have never told me what you
think of my work."

"Are you not satisfied with the approbation
you have received ? " said Filippo.

156 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" No," replied Donatello, " I must have
yours. Come, tell me honestly if you see any
faults."

They took their station before the piece of
sculpture ; Brunelleschi looked long and ear-
nestly at it. " It is well carved," said he ;
" there is no fault in the crucifix."

"Nay," said Donatello, "this is cold approba-
tion; I demand of you, by our long friendship,
to tell me truly what you think of the whole."

Filippo knew the irritability of his friend,
but, thus implored, he spoke. " I have ever
imagined," he said, "the figure and form of
Jesus Christ as perfect. The sublimity of his
doctrines, the grandeur of his conceptions,
and the sweetness of his character have
thrown a human idea of beauty over the
whole. When I think of Christ, I contem-
plate him in his transfiguration on the mount,
and I behold in him divine loveliness."

"Well," said Donatello, "go on. What
have I done ? "

" Thou hast placed a boor upon the cross.
Look at his robust limbs, at the resolute, al-
most fierce look of his countenance. In vain
I seek for the benign expression that must
have distinguished the Saviour, — the submis-
sion and resignation which triumphed over
the agonies of death."

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 157

"That is thy opinion, is it?" said Do-
natello, his eyes sparkling with sensibility.
"Were it as easy to execute a work as to
judge it, thou wouldst not be so severe on
my Christ. Thou hadst better try to make
one thyself, after thine own idea."

Filippo made no reply, but determined to
try his skill. He worked laboriously and
secretly for several months, neither Donatello
nor any one else conjecturing his occupation.

One day he invited his friend to dine with
him, and, according to the custom of artists at
that time, they went to the market together.
When there, Filippo purchased various arti-
cles, and, requesting Donatello to take them
home, said he would follow. " Do not be
impatient," said he, " but look about and
amuse thyself; I will be after thee in a few
minutes."

Donatello took the articles in his apron and
proceeded to the house. When he entered,
the first object that struck his eyes was a
Christ upon a cross, which Filippo had been
secretly carving. Donatello, overcome with
astonishment, let the contents of his apron fall,
and when Filippo entered, he found him gaz-
ing in speechless admiration upon the Christ.

" Why, what hast thou been doing with my
dinner ? " said he, laughing.

158 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" I have no appetite for dinner to-day," said
Donatello. " I acknowledge that thou alone
hast executed as it deserved the figure of
Christ. I see now that mine is a boor, as
thou hast said."

This was Brunelleschi's Crucifixion, which,
it is said, has aroused infidels to adoration.
With true nobleness Donatello reverenced
the work of his friend, and they were more
strongly than ever united.

The calm, gentle, yet energetic character of
Filippo admirably regulated the impetuosity
and violence of his friend. Many anecdotes
are related which prove that Donatello was
sometimes rash and impatient. He was em-
ployed by a Genoese merchant to make a
bronze bust of the size of life. This commis-
sion had been procured for him by Cosimo
de' Medici. Donatello spent much time up-
on it, and it was very beautifully executed.
When the bust was finished, and the price of
it inquired, the merchant was much aston-
ished at the cost, and said it was a most ex-
travagant price. Donatello, however, remained
firm, and it was finally referred to Cosirno.

The prince, being a true judge of the arts,
would willingly have taken it himself at the
estimate; but wishing to deal justly with the
merchant, he had the bust placed in front of

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 159

the battlements of his palace, that it might be
observed by all who passed, thinking that the
admiration it excited would reconcile the
merchant to the cost. Still, however, he per-
sisted in refusing, and made so small an offer,
that the indignation of Cosimo was excited,
as well as that of the artist.

" If you had made this in a month," said
the sagacious merchant, " which you might
have done, the offer I make you would have
secured you a florin a day."

Donatello could no longer repress his anger,
but telling the merchant that it was evident
he was a better judge of buying horse-beans
than statuary, he gave the bust a violent push,
which threw it into the street below ; then,
turning to the astonished merchant, he said,
" You have made me destroy in a hundredth
part of an hour what has been a whole year
in making."

The merchant had fully intended to pur-
chase it, though he meant to get it at the
smallest price. His disappointment was great,
and he at last told Donatello that, if he would
reconstruct it, he would pay him double the
sum ; but he positively refused, though urged
by Cosimo. He afterwards repaired the bust,
and presented it to Cosimo, his noble patron.

In the Santa Maria del Fiore are two sing-

160 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

ing boys, by him, represented in altorilievo,
of uncommon beauty. In the Florence Gal-
lery is a bronze statue, supposed to be a
Mercury, which is thought to equal the works
of ancient art. His marble statue of St.
George is unrivalled.

The number of works which Donatello exe-
cuted is indeed wonderful. His fame extend-
ed over Italy. He was sent for to Padua to
erect a monument to General Erasmo Narin,
who was a leader of the Venetian troops, and
there he exhibited the hero in bronze, on the
Piazza of San Antonio. The Paduans were so
much pleased with Donatello, that they strove
to make him a fellow-citizen, but he preferred
to repair to Florence, to his revered friend
Cosimo; playfully declaring that, if he stayed
much longer at Padua, he should forget by
what laborious efforts he had acquired all he
knew, and though he might be continually
criticized and censured in his native city, such
criticism would give him a motive for study,
and conduce to his attainment of greater ex-
cellence.

He executed many works for Santa Maria
del Fiore ; and over the door of Santa Croce
a statue of San Ludovico, who left a kingdom
to become a monk. Some of his friends re-
proached him for having made San Ludovico

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 161

stupid and clumsy. " I did so on purpose,"
he replied, " since the saint must have been a
stupid fellow to exchange sovereignty for a
monastery." He executed for Cosimo de'
Medici a bust of his wife in bronze. Later
in life he suggested to Cosimo to remove the
antiquities of his country-seat to Florence,
and he restored them with his own hand.

Donatello, notwithstanding his inflexibility
with the merchant, was liberal ; caring little
for money. Indeed, he made so light of his
gains that he kept his money in a basket,
suspended by a cord from the ceiling; and
from this receptacle his assistants, as well as
his friends, took what they needed, without
being expected to account to him. Old age
had now come upon him, and he was unable
to work, but Cosimo took care of him, and
his cheerfulness and kind temper procured
him numerous friends. It was his lot to out-
live his noble patron, but Cosimo, on his
deathbed, left Donatello in charge to his son
Piero, who bestowed on him a farm, upon
which he might live most commodiously. He
was at first much delighted with the gift, and
said he was now provided with a competency
for his whole life ; but at the end of a year
he went to Piero and restored to him the
deed of the farm, declaring that he could not
11

162 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

have his comfort destroyed by household
cares, and listening to the troubles and out-
cries of the farmers, who came pestering him
every third day ; now, because the wind had
unroofe'd the dove-cot ; then, because his cat-
tle had been seized for taxes ; and anon, be-
cause of the storms which had cut up his vines
and fruit-trees. With all this, he said, he was
so completely worn out, that he had rather
perish with hunger than be tormented by so
many cares.

Piero was much amused, but to oblige him
took possession of the farm, and assigned
him an income of larger value, secured in the
bank, and to be paid to him in cash every
week. Happy the artist who finds such a
friend and patron as Cosimo de' Medici!
The latter, during his life, was dissatisfied
with Donatello's dress, and he caused a
mantle and cap to be made for him in patri-
cian style, and requested him to wear it, at
least at festivals. Donatello wore it once or
twice, and then sent it back again to Cosimo,
telling him " it was too dainty for his use."
As the friend of the house of Medici, Dona-
tello lived happily several years. He then
became paralytic, and died in 1466, in a low,
ordinary house, close to the nunnery of San
Nicolo. He was buried in the Church of San

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 163

Lorenzo, near the tomb of Cosimo, as he had
himself commanded, " that his body might
be near him when dead, as his spirit had been
ever near him when in life."

Vasari records a circumstance that is too
illustrative of this artist's character to be
omitted. A short time before his death, his
kinsfolks came to condole with him, and sug-
gested that he would undoubtedly leave a
farm which he owned in Prato to them ; for
though it was small and produced but little
income, they should value it for his sake.
Donatello calmly replied, " I cannot content
you in this matter, because I have resolved to
leave the farm to the countryman who has
always tilled it, and bestowed faithful labor
on it for my sake ; whereas you have had no
concern in it, but the thought of obtaining
it. Go, and the Lord be with you."

His treasures of art were left to his disci-
ples, whom Vasari enumerates.

The death of Donatello was much regretted
by his fellow-citizens and artists, and by all
who had known him. His obsequies were
honorably performed, and he was followed to
his grave by all the painters, architects, sculp-
tors, goldsmiths, and nearly the whole popula-
tion of the city.

His remains rest near those of Cosimo

164 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

de' Medici ; the one ennobled by learning,
goodness, rank, wealth, birth, and patronage
of the arts; the other scarcely less ennobled
by his own natural endowments.

Among the Latin and Italian epitaphs
made upon him, we select the following: —

" Quanta con dotta mano alia scultura
Gia fecer molti, or sol Donate ha fatto ;
Rendute ha vita ai marmi, affetto ed atto.
Che piu, se non parlar, puo dar natura ? "

We add the following translation : —

" With gifted hand Donato could bestow
On sculptured marble all for which we seek ;
With life and action he has made it glow,
And what could nature more, but bid it speak ? "

We insert another translation from a friend: —

" Whate'er the instructed hand hath given to stone,
Of feeling, act, or life, Donato gives ;
His hand moves o'er it and the marble lives ;
What more can nature give, but voice alone ? "

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

165

CHAPTER X.

THE TWO BROTHERS. — ANDREA DEL
VEROCCHIO.— TORRIGIANO.

IN the first years of the fifteenth century
several distinguished artists appeared, besides
Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, and Donatello, who
may be ranked earlier.

From the time of the Pisani, Nicolo and
Andrea, sculpture revived. After the death
of Lorenzo Ghiberti, in 1445, and of Dona-
tello, in 1446, the art still flourished in the
hands of Andrea del Verocchio.

The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries
have been called the infancy of reviving
sculpture. With the fifteenth, it takes the
form and stamp of manhood.

About this time two young brothers, born
of obscure but respectable parents, began to
signalize themselves by works of art. In
their ages there was but one year's difference ;
they had been rocked in the same cradle, and
borne in the same arms, and their mutual
attachment led them, as they advanced in life,

166 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

to the same occupations. Their father em-
ployed them in running of errands, and doing
little services, which earned them a small
recompense. His true theory was that they
had better labor for nothing than not labor
at all, for idleness is the parent of crime.
When it is considered how many children
in Italy are growing up merely to bask in
the beautiful sunshine, to live on the wild
fruits of the country, and sleep in the open
air, we cannot be surprised that that beautiful
region has been the theatre of crime and
disgrace. It may reconcile us to our inclem-
ent skies of the North, to our driving snow-
storms, our freezing cold, that every human
being is compelled, by his own physical suf-
fering, to ' find a shelter at least for the night.
The Catholic priests assert that it is a species
of fatherly indulgence to permit the natives to
enjoy their vagabond habits, to beg about the
streets, and live in perpetual idleness.

The father of our two boys, Antonio and
Piero, thought otherwise ; and perceiving that
they discovered much ingenuity, he went to
Bartoluccio Ghiberti, the most celebrated
goldsmith in Florence, and stated his own
honest and judicious views, and requested
him to take one of his boys for the menial
offices of his business. Ghiberti allowed him

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 167

to send them, and after conversing with them
selected Antonio. But he was not condemned
to menial purposes ; his ingenuity and quick
perception at once raised him to the rank of
an apprentice in the business. He soon out-
stripped all his fellow-apprentices, and became
the favorite of his master. He was intrusted
with the execution of valuable works, and the
setting of rare and precious stones. He also
discovered wonderful art in making figures in
silver and bronze.

We must not suppose his brother, Piero,
was left in idleness all this time. For weeks
he drooped, after his separation from his be-
loved companion, and his father marked him
reclining on the banks of the Arno, watching
its course, and gazing on the clouds and not-
ing the shadows of morning and evening.

" This will never do, Piero, my boy," said
the father ; " we must have some avocation
for you ; you are lost without your brother."

"True, father," he replied; "but I am not
altogether idle."

" Why, what are you doing ? "

" I am making pictures."

The father, struck with this answer, went
immediately to the famous painter, Andrea
del Castagno, and related his little narrative.
Andrea told him to send the boy to him, and

168 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

he at once received him. Thus were the two
brothers most happily placed.

Lorenzo Ghiberti was working on the door
of San Giovanni, and employed many assist-
ants, always, however, selecting those who
distinguished themselves for the taste and
neatness of their handiwork. He soon dis-
covered the wonderful excellence of the youth-
ful Antonio, and invited him to try his skill in
forming a festoon for a part of the door.
Those who have seen this door of San Gio-
vanni will understand that it required the
labor and skill of many years to complete it.
It was in looking at this door that Michel
Angelo exclaimed, " This is worthy of being
the gate of Paradise." Antonio did not con-
sume a great deal of time in this subordinate
employment, though the execution was con-
sidered very beautiful. His talents were by
this time universally acknowledged, and he
determined, by the assistance of his friends
and admirers, to separate from Bartoluccio
and Lorenzo Ghiberti, and open a magnificent
shop. For many years he followed this em-
ployment, increasing in wealth and fame, con-
stantly improving and acquiring new powers
in the different arts of buhl and intaglio.

Hitherto the brothers had pursued their oc-
cupations separately, but they now yearned

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 169

for each other's society, and Antonio, having
long desired to be able to incorporate colors
in many of his works, relinquished his occu-
pation as goldsmith and sculptor, and applied
himself to the study and practice of painting.
Afterwards uniting his labors with those of
Piero, he became an excellent painter, and
they worked jointly.

It is somewhere said that the two brothers
evinced the same partiality for a young girl of
singular beauty, but Antonio, discovering that
Piero had long fixed his affections upon her,
generously withdrew from the contest, and
she became the wife of Piero.

Though Antonio is ranked among the
sculptors, we must remember that in that age
a goldsmith who made small statues was
considered a sculptor. The brothers earned
wealth and fame by their united labors, and
were able to procure the means of a happy
old age for their parents. Some of the bronze
sculpture on the doors of St. Peter's at Rome
was done by Antonio, as were some parts
of the celebrated doors of San Giovanni at
Florence.

One brother did not long survive the other,
and both were buried in the Church of San
Pietro in Vincola, where a marble tomb com-
memorates the worth of both.

170 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Andrea del Verocchio is less known as a
painter than as an architect and sculptor, yet
he will always be remembered in the first
capacity as the beloved master of Leonardo
da Vinci. Both he and Pietro Perugino, a
distinguished painter, were pupils of Andrea.
He painted a large picture for the nuns of San
Doinenico, in Florence, and it excited a good
deal of admiration. He was then requested
to paint another for the monks of Vallombrosa.
The subject of this picture was the Baptism
of Christ by St. John. When near its com-
pletion, he was taken ill and unable to work
on it. " I commission thee, my Leonardo,"
said Andrea, " to do thy best on this work, for
I have promised it at a certain time, and I
see no prospect of being able to accomplish
my promise." Leonardo da Vinci had the
greatest reverence for his master's skill, and
felt inadequate to the task. , " Do thy best,"
said Andrea.

Accordingly Leonardo, the future painter
of the Last Supper, at Milan, tremblingly
seized the brush, but his hand grew steady as
he painted. The fire of genius lighted his
eye, and a more than mortal resolution nerved
his hand. " It is for my beloved master I im-
plore skill and power for this deed," said he,
mentally, as he knelt before the crucifix.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 171

" The work is done, father,'! said Leonardo.
" It only waits for your correction."

As soon as Andrea was able, he was con-
veyed by his young pupils into the studio.
He looked upon the picture at first in silence.

" Master," said Leonardo, kneeling beside
him.

Andrea threw his arms around him, and
burst into tears. " My son," said he, " I paint
no more; to thee I commit my pencil and pal-
let ; thou shalt increase, but I shall decrease."
From this time he refused to undertake,
any painting, and turned his whole atten-
tion to sculpture united with architecture.
He immediately set about a design of sculp-
ture which had before been given to Donatel-
lo, but from some cause or other was never
undertaken. It was a San Tommaso in bronze.
He made the models and moulds, and finally
cast the figures. They came out perfect, and
the casting was considered faultless.

The incredulity of Thomas is perfectly de-
picted, and also his desire to assure himself of
the fact related to him is expressed in his
countenance. There is a mixture of tender-
ness and veneration in the manner in which
the disciple lays his hand on the side of the
Master, when the Saviour has raised his arm
and opened his vesture, to disperse the doubts

172 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

of the incredulous Thomas. This figure
breathes the grace and divinity which brought
the Apostle at once to his feet, when he ex-
claims, " My Lord and my God!"

Soon after this work, the noble houses of
Florence were in deep mourning ; a young
and noble lady had died most suddenly, in
giving birth to an infant. Her husband, who
deeply loved her, was earnest to secure a
memorial to her fame. He commissioned
Andrea to execute a work worthy of the sub-
ject. He represented the lady on the stone
which covered her tomb, rising with her in-
fant. There is the beauty of an ascending
spirit in this figure ; to which he added three
angels, representing three virtues. This was
done in marble, and is yet extant in Rome.

He returned to Florence full of fame and
honor, and accomplished many works. He is
often mentioned as the old Andrea Verocchio,
in contrast to his young pupils. His life was
filled with labors of art and usefulness. His
fame had extended over Italy, and he was
summoned to Venice to execute an equestrian
statue. While there, he took a violent cold in
casting the work, which threw him into a fever,
and he died at Venice, at the age of fifty-six.
Next to Leonardo da Vinci, he prized
Lorenzo di Credi, whose remains he had

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 173

brought from Venice, and buried in the
Church of San Ambrogio, in the sepulchre
of Ser Michele di Cione.

Andrea took much pleasure in making mod-
els. He made his moulds from a soft stone
found in the neighborhood of Volterra, Siena,
and other parts of Italy, which being burnt in
the fire, pounded finely, and kneaded with
water, is rendered so soft and smooth, that it
may be made into whatever form is desired ;
afterwards it becomes perfectly hard. Entire
figures may be cast in moulds from it. It
became a fashion to make casts of heads of
this material, as it could be done with little
cost. We are greatly indebted to the skill
of Andrea Verocchio, who was one of the
first to accomplish this thing.

Lorenzo the Magnificent was well known
to be the patron of the arts. He never saw
any dawning of genius but he was desirous to
foster it and bring it to maturity. He acci-
dentally beheld some artistic work of the
young Torrigiano, and from that time dis-
played a kindness for him. Torrigiano, though
bold, violent, and passionate, felt there was too
much to risk by showing any of these bad pro-
pensities to Lorenzo, and for a time won his
favor. At length Lorenzo determined to ad-
mit him to his garden, on the Piazza of

174 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

San Marco, in Florence, which was decorat-
ed in the richest manner with figures from
the antique, and with the most perfect sculp-
ture. In every walk, in all the logge or build-
ings, were placed beautiful statues, with pic-
tures and other productions of art, by the
most eminent masters of Italy or any other
country. These treasures were superb orna-
ments to the garden ; but Lorenzo considered
it a school of art. This place he permitted
the artists to use as an academy of design.
The young nobles made it a resort, and, fa-
vored with wealth and rank, had the oppor-
tunity of devoting themselves to their pur-
suits without being urged on by poverty and
want, which too often damp the ardent mind.
But even for such exigencies the great and
good Lorenzo provided ; he furnished the
means of instruction for the poor, supplied
them with proper clothing, and animated them
by presents and rewards when they had be-
stowed uncommon skill and labor on any
work. Donatello's disciple, Bertoldo, now a
man of mature age, was the guardian chief
of the place. He instructed the students, re-
ceive I all the treasures, the designs, the draw-
ings, and every thing which had accumulated
for many years. He was a man of acute
penetration, and read the character of the

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 175

pupils almost instinctively. The one in whom
he took most delight was Michel Angelo
Buonarotti, then just starting into life, yet
promising the high and noble career he after-
wards followed.

When Torrigiano was introduced by Lo-
renzo, Bertoldo expressed regret; he said, "I
fear he will prove a serpent in our fair garden
of Eden."

" He has genius, Master Bertoldo," said
Lorenzo ; " let us at least give him a chance."

Torrigiano was of full stature, and robust in
his appearance. Cellini, the artist, describes
him as of a magnificent figure and most
audacious deportment, and says : " He had
the look of a huge trooper, rather than of a
sculptor ; his gestures were violent, his voice
loud and unmusical ; it seemed as if the out-
side denoted the character within. He never
could endure those who exceUed him, and
was always eager to quarrel. He had a
peculiar aversion to Michel Angelo, because
he was the favorite of all and so unlike him-
self." It was on one of his peculiarly quarrel-
some days that a beautiful work of Michel
Angelo, which he had just completed, was
pointed out to him ; bitter and mocking words
followed, and he assailed the artist with lan-
guage that became insupportable. Angelo

176 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

replied in a manned that increased the rage of
Torrigiano to the insanity of passion ; he
struck him a violent blow on the face, that left
its mark for life.

Lorenzo no sooner learned the circumstance,
than he took measures to arrest the criminal ;
but in the mean time he had fled from Florence,
and enlisted as a recruit in the army of Duke
Valentino, who was then making war in Ro-
magna. He also served under Paolo Vitelli,
in the war against Pisa. He seemed now to
have found his right profession, for he is said
to have behaved with bravery in the campaign,
and obtained honor as a standard-bearer.

But his restless ambition could not be satis-
fied in this situation, as he saw no chance of
promotion or money. He then determined to
return to sculpture, and even executed some
small figures in marble and bronze, in compe-
tition with those of the still hated Michel An-
gelo. Italy, however, had become detestable
to him, and some merchants invited him to
come to England. There he executed many
works in marble, bronze, and wood, proving
himself superior to the English artists. Here
he might have been satisfied, for money and
fame flowed in upon him. His works were
largely remunerated. He made the bronze
monument of King Henry the Seventh (and

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 177

his queen, Elizabeth of York) in the chapel
called after that monarch in Westminster
Abbey. It was completed in 1509, and he
received for it <£ 1,000 sterling.

But his uneasy spirit was again urging him
on, and he went to Spain, where he execut-
jd various works which were highly prized ;
among them, a beautiful statue of the Virgin
and Child. This the Duke of Arcos desired to
purchase, and he made Torrigiano magnificent
offers, which the artist accepted ; but when the
payment came, he found himself defrauded in
the miserable coin sent to him. Listening only
to his rage, he demanded no explanation, but,
rush-ing to the ducal palace, threw himself upon
the figure, and broke it in pieces. The Duke
avenged himself by accusing Torrigiano of
heresy ; he was thrown into the prison of the
Inquisition, and after several trials adjudged
to suffer the heaviest penalty of the law. But
little more is known of this unfortunate man,
the victim of his own violent and ungoverned
passions. It is supposed that he died in pris-
on, and thereby escaped the horrible condem-
nation of a Spanish auto de fe.

Torrigiano drew the designs of the present
edifice of St. Peter's at Bologna.

12

178 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

CHAPTER XI.

LEONAKDO DA VINCI. — MICHEL ANGELO. —
EAPHAEL. — BEN VENUTO CELLINI. — PROPER-
ZIA DE' ROSSI.

AT this period lived Leonardo da Vinci,
less known as a sculptor than as a painter
and architect. He executed, however, some
pieces of sculpture, and was invited to make a
colossal figure of the Duke of Milan. For this
he accomplished a model ; but the expense
was too great for its execution, and it was
finally relinquished. His early taste led him
to painting, an art in which he was preemi-
nent, though he excelled in architecture. His
mind seems to have been richly endowed with
a taste for the fine arts, in all their forms.
He was likewise an accomplished gentleman,
winning the favor of the wise, the good, and
the high-born. It is well known that he died
in the arms of Francis the First. He was the
pride of Andrea del Verocchio, who taught
him the rudiments of painting. That he was
an excellent statuary, as Lanzi tells us, is de-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 179

monstrated by his San Tommaso in Orsan-
michele at Florence, and by the horse in the
Church of St. John and St. Paul at Venice.
He modelled the three statues cast in bronze
by Rustici for the Church of St. John at Flor-
ence. There is also a colossal horse of his
work at Milan.

Few have united such various accom-
plishments as Leonardo da Vinci ; but his
fame comes down to posterity chiefly as a
painter. There are many records of his vari-
ous accomplishments. He was brought to
Milan by Lodovico Sforza, whose heart he
had won by his musical performance on a
silver lyre, a new, curious, and original instru-
ment constructed by his own hands. A nu-
merous company were assembled to hear his
first performance. They were all astonished
and charmed by his music and extemporane-
ous poetry. He likewise excelled in eloquence.
He remained in the service of the Prince Lo-
dovico, and engaged in some public works of
hydraulic engineering for the benefit of the
state. It was during this period that he
painted the celebrated " Last Supper."

Few men secure to themselves an im-
mortal renown; among the few is Michel
An gel o. His life and character have so
often been portrayed, that we only no\v

180 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

speak of him as a sculptor. Though he ex-
celled in painting, architecture, and almost
every science, his taste led him particularly
to sculpture. In this art he, like Phidias,
struck out new conceptions ; and in after life
he expressed regret at not having wholly de-
voted himself to it. He was born in 1474,
at Arezzo, in the territory of Tuscany. He
studied anatomy for twelve years, under Ber-
toldo, who had the direction of the gardens
of Lorenzo de' Medici. It was this study
that rendered his early attempts in both paint-
ing and sculpture so remarkable ; his figures
display profound knowledge of the human
body, and scarcely less of the human soul.
He perfectly understood the action which
internal emotion gives to the features and the
limbs. When he wished to express elevated
thought and determination, he impressed his
own mind on the work, and it stood forth
with a power which seemed divine. His
statue of Moses, in the Church of Pietro in
Vincola, in Rome, is considered his greatest
work. It is sitting, of colossal size. We
speak with reverence when we say it conveys
to many minds a conception of the power of
the Deity.

All do not view this statue with the same
sensations. I heard a lady exclaim at the

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 181

first sight of it, " It is awful ! " " Yes," one
of its admirers replied, "awfully grand and
noble ! " " Awfully ugly, I mean," returned
the lady.

His David, which stands in the Piazza of
the Grand Duke at Florence, about to hurl
the stone at Goliah, gives the highest concep-
tion of beauty.

Beauty is not that which Michel Angelo
appears to have made his particular study.
He sacrificed no strength of emotion to what
we call beauty of attitude. In some instances
the attitudes are violent and exaggerated ; for
instance, in his celebrated picture of the Last
Judgment at the Sistine Chapel. It is a fact
that his paintings continually remind us of his
sculpture, and this appears to be his congenial
art.

From Memes we quote the following ob-
servation, which ought to be valuable to sculp-
tors : " Trusting to mechanical dexterity, and
to his profound science, he frequently ven-
tured to work without model, or reference to
the living form. This produces a rigidity, a
want of feeling, and a mannerism, even in
his best performances, the commencement of
those conventional modes which finally super-
seded all diligent study of nature, and led to
the abandonment of every genuine grace of
sculpture."

182 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

The sculpture of Michel Angelo is to be
seen at Rome and Florence. No traveller can
enter either of those places and neglect the
opportunity of viewing them. The first im-
pression received from them is astonishment;
no one thinks of beauty. His Night and
Day may be seen at the Boston Athenaeum, in
plaster casts.

His Bacchus, at Florence, is considered an
astonishfng piece of art, but Rome is thought
to contain the finest of his statues. The
Pieta, and Dead Saviour, in St. Peter's, are
among his early works.

He exercised a wonderful power on the art
of sculpture, and though his productions are
not numerous, they take the highest place in
the Middle Ages. He died in 1564.

Of sculpture, Sir Joshua Reynolds's obser-
vation on art truly applies, that long cultiva-
tion and great study are necessary to judge
correctly of a work. However accurate and
natural it may be, it is a new standard we
have to judge by. Some author styles sculp-
ture frozen music; in some respects it is
nature congealed. It has not the aid of colors
or of atmosphere ; it stands an abstract of
what was or may be. What uneducated
being could appreciate the Moses of Michel
Angelo ?

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 183

Raphael was contemporary with Michel
Angelo. As a painter, he stands unrivalled.
He was born in 1483. We have seen one or
two pieces of sculpture ascribed to him, which
prove that he might have excelled. It is very
possible that some of the works of Raphael di
Monte Lupo, a favorite pupil of Michel An-
gelo, may have been attributed to Raphael,
the immortal painter.

Benvenuto Cellini has said so much of him-
self, that hardly any thing is left to say of him.
His autobiography is much read, and thought
highly entertaining. He was contemporary
with Michel Angelo, Torrigiano, and men of
that period. He excelled in minute works of
art, particularly in the goldsmith line. He
was born in Florence, in 1500, was appren-
ticed to a goldsmith, named Andrea Sandror
and at fifteen years outstripped his compan-
ions in the profession. He composed a lily
of diamonds, set in gold, for some great man,
which introduced him to general notice.

In 1527, Rome was beleaguered; Cellini
took an ardent interest in the events of the
day, and served as bombardier in the Castle
of San Angelo.

He at length quitted Rome, considering
himself ill-treated by the Pope, and entered
the service of Duke Alexander, in Florence,

184 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

for whom he executed many beautiful works.
In 1537, he went to the court of Francis the
First of France. On returning to Rome, he
was again beset by enemies, and thrown into
prison upon false accusations, but was liber-
ated by Cardinal Ferrara.

His skill was fully appreciated in France,
and he was invited thither, where he set up a
complete workshop. His finest works were
here accomplished, many of which may still
be seen in Vienna and Dresden. In France
he executed his enormous model of the statue
of Mars, whose head served as a sleeping-
chamber. He also made a bronze relief, called
the Nymph of Fontainebleau. His best work
was executed at Florence, for Cosimo, — a
Saviour on the Cross, of the size of life. The
Duke presented it to Philip the Second, king
of Spain, and it is now in the Escurial.
Cellini died in 1570.

Properzia de' Rossi is one of the rare
instances of excellence in the art of sculpture
among the female sex. She lived in Bologna,
and was much distinguished for her beauty
and elegance. Her accomplishments were
numerous : she was skilled in needlework and
embroidery of all kinds; as a musician she
excited much admiration, and her vocal pow-
ers were said to be wonderful. Added to

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 185

these female accomplishments, her taste had.
led her to acquire a degree of science almost
exclusively, in that day, appropriated to the
other sex. She was original and ingenious in
her occupations, and had the surprising faculty
of making intaglios on peach-stones. She ar-
rived at great excellence in this minute carving.
It was wonderful to see, on so small a thing
as a peach-stone, figures beautifully delineat-
ed. On some was wrought the Cross, with
Christ extended on it and the Apostles stand-
ing around ; on others, the Virgin and Child.

These works excited admiration and aston-
ishment ; but she often heard people exclaim,
" It is a pity so much labor should be expend-
ed on such a very little thing as a nut." She
began fully to agree with them, and applied
for leave to make ornaments for the doors of
San Petronio's Church. In these works she
gave so much satisfaction, that she was im-
portuned to try her skill in marble.

Count Alessandro de' Pepoli, who had con-
ceived the highest idea of her talents, request-
ed her to execute a marble statue of his
father, Count Guido. This not only enchant-
ed the near connections, but attracted the
attention and commendation of the whole
city.

But poor Properzia, .with the graces and

186 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

accomplishments of a woman, possessed a
woman's tenderness of heart. There is mys-
tery thrown over a part of her life. She left
her husband and home at Rome, and took
up her residence at Bologna. Here she ex-
ercised her imagination in marble with great
success. There are still extant, in rilievo,
two angels of extreme beauty, which are
her work.

A subject upon which she lavished great
skill and time was one taken from the Old
Testament. The world, which is often severe
in its judgments, did not hesitate to say it
was the history of her own life. As an en-
graver she excelled, and was particularly
happy in the foliage and branches of trees.

There was a great coronation to take
place in Bologna, and Pope Clement the
Seventh came to perform the august cere-
mony. The works of Properzia, in the sacred
edifice of San Petronio, were pointed out to
him ; he was so much pleased with them that
he made many inquiries about the fair artist,
and at length requested an interview. Pro-
perzia could not refuse his Holiness, and she
appeared in his presence closely veiled. It is
said that, after conversing some time with
her, he offered to take her back with him to
Rome, telling her that the monuments of her

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 187

genius which he had beheld at Bologna in-
duced him to make the offer. She replied,
that she would remain among the monuments
of her genius, and there be buried.

When quitting his presence, she knelt to
pay the usual homage ; in so doing, her veil
fell, and discovered a face of such surpassing,
yet almost unearthly beauty, that the Pope
was overcome with emotion. That same
week she breathed her last. She was buried,
as she desired, in the hospital for the poor.

Some attempts have been made* to make
the melancholy events of her life the subject
for a tragedy, but it is better that they should
remain in obscurity.

188 • FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

CHAPTER XII.

BENEDETTO DE MAJANO. — PIERO DA VINCI.—
GIOVANNI DA BOLOGNA. — LORENZO GIO-
VANNI BERNINI.

BENEDETTO DE MAJANO was originally a
carver in wood, and very successful in that
art. He copied the manner of Filippo Brunel-
leschi, and of Paolo Uccello. He made use
of various colors, and introduced perspective
and foliage among other improvements. The
novelty of this art acquired him much repu-
tation, and he' was encouraged by several
princes. Among others, Alphonso, king of
Naples, ordered an escritoire. He also ex-
ecuted, with much ingenuity and labor, a
casket for Matthias Corvinus, king of Hun-
gary. He was requested to convey it in per-
son to the king, who took much delight in
rare and curious things. Benedetto, after
some deliberation, started, and arrived safe-
ly in Hungary. The king received him with
favor, and expressed a strong desire to see
the curiosity he had brought with him, and

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 1&9

requested that the casket might be opened
in his presence and among his attendants.
Accordingly Benedetto had it brought, and
opened it with a very natural confidence of
success, knowing how universally such works
had been admired, and that this was the
most exquisite thing he had made. What
then, must have been the mortification and
disappointment of the poor artist, to find that
it was in pieces ! It had become wet in the
course of transport ; the humidity of the ocean
had penetrated the case, and entirely decom-
posed the cement, causing it to fall to pieces.

Poor Benedetto was at first in despair ; but
reflecting that the parts were all there, he
went to work, and so well restored it, that the
king professed himself satisfied. The artist,
however, was not so ; he could not recover
from the mortification he had experienced,
and from that time conceived a disgust for
a kind of work which, however beautiful,
was so frail. From that time he began to
work in marble.

Vasari gives an account of his numerous
works, many of which are still extant, as he
rose to much fame as a sculptor. He died
in 1498, at the age of fifty-four, and found
an honorable sepulchre in the Church of San
Lorenzo.

190 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

At the Castello di Vinci, in Val d' Arno, had
lived Ser Piero, the father of Leonardo da
Vinci. In a large, unfurnished room of this
overgrown mansion might be seen a young boy,
stretched on the floor, with a parchment before
him, surrounded by mathematical instruments,
which seemed rather the playthings suited to
his years than intended for scientific use. He
had just entered his tenth year.

The windows of the large hall opened upon
the beautiful scenery of the vale of the Arno,
hill, meadow, and lake, while curtains of vines
and roses, trained over the windows, dimin-
ished the glare of the glowing sunbeams.

As there was neither chair nor table in the
apartment, the youth was fain to use the
floor as his drawing-desk, occasionally resting
on one elbow jn deep thought.

Suddenly his father entered. Piero hastily
arose : ;< O father, is it you ? "

" Yes," he replied, "who else should it be?"

" I thought it was Gianetta ; it is strange
she does not come ; it will be too late."

" Too late, my son? too late for what? "

" Nay, father, ask me not; the star is pass-
ing." And he rushed to the balcony and
gazed upwards.

" Thou art dreaming, boy; there are no stars
in the sky ; it is broad day."

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 191

"And where are the stars, father?" said the
boy earnestly.

" God knows," replied he.

"And so do I," exclaimed the youth; "they
are veiled in floods of light, they are lost in the
glorious radiance of the sun, but they are
there. Where, father, is the glory of our
race ? Where is Leonardo da Vinci ? "

"Alas, boy ! thou knowest full well ; why
dost thou ask? The angels of heaven he
knew so well how to paint bore him upwards
from the arms of Francis the First, where he
breathed his last."

"And where is he now? where is my uncle?"
asked the boy.

" In heaven."

"But, father, how dost thou know that?
Thou seest him not there."

" Not bodily, but I know he is with Mary
and her blessed Son."

" What hides him from us ? why do we not
see him ? "

"Ask me no more questions," said the
father.

" Well, then," replied the boy with anima-
tion, " I will tell thee. It is the glory of the
invisible world that hides him from us. Just
so it is with the stars ; they shine when the
god of day is not by; but I can see them,

192 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

for I know their places, and Gianetta's star
and mine — But hark! I hear her footstep."
A girl, somewhat younger than himself,
sprang forward.

" I have long waited for thee," said the
boy ; " our star is passing. Where hast thou
been ? "

" O Piero, do not think of the stars, poor
Giotto is at the point of death ! "

Bartolommeo had withdrawn, and the
children were left to themselves.

" Giotto at the point of death ! I must see
him."

" O no ! he is too sick to see any one ; grand-
mother will not permit it if she is at home."

" Where is she ? "

" I left her going out to gather herbs ; she
wishes to try a new remedy."

" I will go and see him," said the boy.

" Do not, dear Piero ; grandmother will be
so angry with rne ! "

" Never mind, I will take it all on myself; I
will bring no anger on any one else. Don't
cry, Gianetta ; stay till I come back. And he
rushed out.

He bent his steps to the humble dwelling
of the grandmother, who had taken the help-
less orphan when her parents died. There he
found poor Giotto ; he lay feeble and emaciat-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 193

ed, his eyes closed, and apparently past speak-
ing. Piero took his hand, hung over him, and
said in a low voice, " Good Giotto, speak to
Piero."

The old man opened his eyes. "Art thou
here ! " he exclaimed; " welcome, young mas-
ter. Now I may die in peace. Listen while
I have words to speak. Thy uncle, the great
Leonardo, had skill as a diviner; he was ini-
tiated in ancient lore."

" Yes," said the boy, « I know all that ; he
could read the stars ; I can read them too.
Jupiter is Gianetta's and mine."

The old man groaned. " O Piero," said
he, " it is of this I would warn thee ; beware!"

« What have I to fear ? " said the boy
boldly, " I am growing tall and strong. I can
master any boy of rny own age, if I have
fair play. The other day a little boy was car-
rying a basket of faggots, and that great
Jacopo came and tipped it up. 'Here,'
said I, * thou hast me to fight, not that poor
child ' ; and I gave him a thump. They formed
a ring round us — But, Giotto, thou dost not
listen."

The old man had fallen into convulsions ;

when the grandmother returned, she found

him dying. Piero stayed till he had breathed

his last, and then hurried back to Gianetta,

13

196 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" He said it was yours, but you must burn
it, and never read it."

" I will open it this minute," said the boy,
drawing it from his vest, " and we will both
see what it all means."

" For the Blessed Virgin's sake, do not read
it," exclaimed Gianetta. " If you disobey
the commands of dying men, their eyes are
always upon you ; you will see poor Giotto
looking at you day and night. O Piero, do
not open it ! burn it for my sake."

" Now you speak sense" said the boy arch-
ly; "I would do a good deal for your sake,
little girl, and when I grow a man I will take
care of you."

" That is not what I mean," said Gianetta ;
" I do not think of myself, only of you and
the Blessed Virgin. If you disobey dead
men, I have always heard they will haunt you
day arid night. O Piero ! promise me."

" Well, go along," said the boy pettishly, in
haste to be alone.

When Gianetta was gone, he drew forth
the letter. There was no direction on it, but
a few hieroglyphics, which he certainly did not
understand. He looked at the seal, it was
perfect in its impression; but equally incom-
prehensible to the boy. Perhaps, thought he,
there is nothing within which I can read.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 197

Gianetta's warning came across his mind, and
he thought of poor Giotto's last struggles, of
those eyes unmeaningly fixed upon him. It
would be bad, thought he, to have such a
companion haunting me night and day. I
will wait ; perhaps I had better tell my father
all about it.

A more doting father than Bartolornmeo,
son never had. He had married a lady of
much distinction, for Leonardo da Vinci's
fame and talents had given a species of nobil-
ity to his family. His life as a painter has
been often recorded. Many have gazed on
the Last Supper, at Milan, and venerated it,
as the work of the great painter, who do not
possess artistic skill enough to see in its muti-
lated state the original perfection of the de-
sign. This painting had been begun in 1493,
and Leonardo employed sixteen years upon
the work. It is painted on the wall of the
Refectory, in the Church of Santa Maria della
Grazia. Unfortunately he had used a new
method, which caused its decay. The ground
is plaster, mixed with mastic, melted in with
hot iron, arid then primed with a mixture of
white lead and earthy colors, which, though
brilliant for a time, did not hold the oil.

Owing to its low situation and an un-
usual quantity of rain, the Refectory became

198 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

flooded, and fifty years after it was painted it
was greatly obscured by dampness and smoke.
But a more horrible mutilation was occasioned
by the pious monks in 1652 ; they, wishing
to enlarge the door of the Refectory, cut away
part of the figure of Christ, and in so doing,
jarred the whole wall, and brought off parts
of the surface. In 1726, Bellotti undertook
to repair it ; he used a secret process, and
painted it all over. In 1770, a common artist
was employed to renew the colors, but it was
soon perceived that he was destroying the
work, and he was fortunately stopped.

Bonaparte went to see it, and while look-
ing at it wrote an order that the military
should not use the room for any purpose.
This order was disobeyed, and the Refectory
was used as a hay magazine.

In 1807, attempts were made by Eugene,
the Viceroy, to preserve it, by putting the
Refectory in proper order, draining it, and en-
deavoring to create a favorable atmosphere.
It is said, however, that it is now scaling off.
At present there is but little left, save the com-
position and the forms. *

We will now return to the family of Leo-
nardo da Vinci. They felt that with him their
glory had departed. But Bartolommeo, a
younger brother, still hoped that a new light

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 199

might arise, in the birth of a son. For this
he uttered vows and prayers, which in time
were granted, and a fine boy was brought to
the baptismal font. The first impulse of his
mind was to call him Leonardo da Vinci, but
by the counsel of his friends, he concluded to
name him for his grandfather, Piero. The
boy had increased in vigor and beauty, and at
the age of five discovered such wonderful
intellect, that his father, unable to wait the
slow development of years, summoned two
famous astrologers to read his destiny. At
this period these arts were much in vogue.
Even the great Leonardo had made the study
of chiromancy or palmistry a serious pursuit.
Their predictions fulfilled the sanguine expec-
tations of Bartolornmeo ; they foretold that
the young Piero would possess wonderful
talents ; that he would reach extraordinary
perfection in art. At the same time they ac-
knowledged that there was an adverse power,
which might crush the bright promise of the
future.

Bartolomrneo was a man of a plain, ra-
tional mind ; he was dissatisfied with the
vague insinuations of the philosophers, and
demanded something more precise. They
promised, when they parted, to give it to him
in writing. This, however, was not done.

200 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

The letter was intrusted to old Giotto, who,
understanding that it concerned the nativity
of Piero, and remembering how tenacious his
former master, Leonardo, was on these sub-
jects, determined to keep the paper until Piero
was old enough to comprehend it. The old
man had observed the growing tenderness
between Gianetta and Piero, and knowing the
disparity of .their birth and situation he con-
cluded that in this way the adverse powers
had determined to counteract his inclinations,
and he tried to avert all influences of the kind.
But death, which baffles human ingenuity, left
his plans unfinished.

It were difficult to say whether Bartolorn-
meo really believed in astrology, but he was
pleased to have his own aspirations sanctioned
by it, with regard to his son. During the fif-
teenth and sixteenth, and a part of the seven-
teenth centuries, if we may believe the author
of Guy Mannering, astrology was the creed
of the wise and scientific, rather than of the
ignorant; and the casting of nativities had
become a lucrative profession.

The father was capable of instructing his
son in the early rudiments of education, be-
ing well learned in the literature of the day.
When his pupil had reached his tenth year,
the period at which he is first introduced, Bar-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 201

tolommeo considered it proper to place him
with Bandinello, a distinguished painter. The
boy had acquired habits of study and close
attention, and he went to work with the pur-
pose of attaining the art, and constantly bear-
ing in mind the fame of Leonardo. But
though he studied the rules, his hand seemed
paralyzed in the execution. There was no
kindred genius awakened ; still, however, he
plodded on for years, and gave no evidence
of improvement in painting. At length he
thought of the sealed paper, which he had not
opened. " Perhaps," said he, " I may find the
secret here. I will give it to my father; but
will not the dead man haunt him too ? O no !
for he is not forbidden to open it. But then
the burning of the letter? Ah, well!" added
he with boyish ingenuity, " that shall be ac-
complished ; after my father has read the let-
ter, I will burn it."

With impetuous haste he flew to his father,
and told the story. Bartolommeo received
the intelligence with much attention. Here
was the long expected letter, which he had
relinquished the idea of ever receiving. He
understood old Giotto too well not to compre-
hend his motives in reserving it for Piero, and
he determined to inform him of the whole
proceeding.

202 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" Thou knowest, my dear boy," said he,
" how fervently thy mother and myself prayed
for thy birth ; Heaven and the Blessed Mary
granted our prayer. Thou promised all we
could desire, yet thou wert but a babe, and
we coveted most earnestly some confirmation
of our hopes and expectations. When thou
wast five years old. I sent to the far East for
an experienced astrologer, and a celebrated
chiromancer. The one calculated nativities
by the stars ; the other by lines on the human
body, particularly those of the face and the
palm. I gave them each a large sum to se-
cure their skill."

" Well, father," said the boy, eagerly, « what
did they say ? "

" But little," said Bartolommeo, for he had
good sense enough to understand that to
rouse the vanity and pride of the boy, might
be a serious injury to his future progress.
" Thus much they said, that thou mightest
with industry acquire fame and honor like
thy uncle."

" Well, the letter, father ; you have it in your
hand, open it."

Bartolommeo cut round the curious seal,
and opened the letter. It was filled with
mathematical figures, about as intelligible to
the father as to the son. Yet the predictions

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 203

were repeated ; fame, honor, and success were
promised. He handed the letter to Piero with
an awakened pride.

As the boy examined the seal, he saw plain-
ly written under it, " Thy life will be a short
one. Beware ! " He turned pale.

" Do not build too much on these sooth-
sayers, my dear son," said the father, attribut-
ing his emotion to the excitement of the flat-
tering predictions ; u you must lend your aid
to accomplish them, or they will come to
nothing. Your uncle Leonardo da Vinci
considered them but as incitements to industry
and high resolve. For my own part, I am
but a plain man, and do not build on astrolo-
gy or chiromancy. No, my dear boy, it is on
your good disposition, on your desire to learn,
on your application to your profession, that I
depend, and on the holy saints and Blessed
Virgin to give you health and long life."

The courage of Piero returned, and with a
noble self-possession and disinterestedness,
which marked the character of the boy, he de-
termined to conceal the fatal prediction from
his parents.

" Father," said he, " there is no use in pre-
serving this paper; suffer me to burn it."
And then, shuddering, he added, " I would
not have a dead man's eyes upon me."

206 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OP

hands with her. He was struck with her im-
proved appearance ; the sun-burnt face had
whitened into a fair complexion, and the large,
dark eyes beamed with gentleness and truth.

" How glad I am, Gianetta, to see thee
with my mother! " said he.

"Ah!" she replied, " the dear Signora is so
kind to me ! She took me from the house of
death."

« We will not think of that," said Piero,
" now you dwell in the house of the living.
I shall never forget the pleasant rambles we
have had together, Gianetta."

" Thank you, Signor," said she, dropping
one of her little courtesies.

A few days after, they met again ; Gianetta
was gathering flowers to dress her lady's room.

"Ah, Gianetta, how art thou this morning?"
said Piero.

" Well, Signor, I thank you," said she, not
forgetting her little courtesy.

" But why dost thou call me Signor? For-
merly I was Piero."

"Ah, Signor, we were children then ; now,"
and she looked modestly down, " I know my
place " ; and she entered the verandah with
her hands full of flowers.

" I understand this," thought he, " it is the
teaching of my lady mother."

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 207

Dearly he loved this lady mother ; never
was there a more affectionate one. Bred in
the high aristocracy of Italian conventional
forms, she well knew how to draw the line
between a favored and chosen domestic and
her own Da Vinci, without haughtiness or
unkindness ; yet in her mind there was a bar-
rier impassable, and she wasted not a thought
upon it.

Neither did Piero apparently. New plans
and new aspirations had taken possession of
his mind. He had passed whole mornings in
the Church of Santa Maria del Fiore ; there
he spent hours in contemplating the statues
of Donatello, particularly the fine one of St.
George, to which Michel Angelo exclaimed,
« March ! »

" Father," said he, one memorable day, " I
have failed in painting, try me at sculpture."

Bartolommeo at once consented, and placed
him with Nicolo, who was surnamed II Tri-
bolo. This sculptor was at the time con-
structing a fountain at a gentleman's villa.

Piero immediately began to design, and
soon far outstripped the other pupils of Tri-
bolo. He devoted himself with the utmost
ardor to study, day and night, pressing for-
ward, with fervent desire, to honor and fame,
and stimulating all around him by his exam-

208 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

pie. Through these means he acquired in a
few months a marvellous degree of knowledge.
Tribolo, seeing his skill and ingenuity, and
being still at work on the fountain, gave Piero
a block of marble, and requested him to chisel
from it a boy, to ornament his fountain.
Piero took it with much delight ; he first
made his model in clay, and then accom-
plished the work in marble with so much suc-
cess, that his master at once perceived that
he could excel in higher tasks.

In a short time, Piero produced, from another
block intrusted to him, two boys, embracing,
and holding fishes in their hands ; from their
mouths the water of the fountain was to flow.
These figures were so graceful in their air
and expression, there was so much beauty
and nature about them, and every part so well
done, that it was decided by every one, that
he was capable of undertaking and completing
works far more difficult,

His success hitherto now encouraged him
to purchase a large block of marble, and have
it carried to his dwelling. He worked on it
in the evening after he had returned home,
and part of- the night, and also on all holidays,
so that by degrees he completed a statue
from it. It was a figure of Bacchus with a
Satyr at his feet, in one hand holding a

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 209

cup, in the other a bunch of grapes. His
head was crowned with a wreath of the vine.
The marble was a fac-simile of the model he
had moulded in clay. In this, as well as in
his other works, Piero discovered a wonder-
ful lightness and grace. When the Bacchus
was finished, it was purchased by Capponi,
and " to the present day," Vasari says,
" Ludovico Capponi, his nephew, has it in his
court,"

When this piece of statuary was beheld by
the Florentines, who had not before known
that Piero was the nephew of Leonardo da
Vinci, they at once exclaimed, that he was
the true descendant of the great man, by rela-
tionship and blood, and from that time he was
called II Vinci, and not Piero.

It would be arduous to mention all his
works. Lucca Martini, who had worked with
Tribolo, was much delighted with Piero's stat-
ues, and gave him a block of marble, from
which he made a Christ fastened to the cross.
This, more than all other things he had
chiseled, excited astonishment; for he had
not then attained his eighteenth year, and in
a few years of study had acquired more than
many do in a long life and with much ex-
perience.

It may well be supposed that the parents
14

210 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

of Piero felt as if their prayers were accom-
plished.

" Is there nothing, my son, I can do for
you?" said Bartolommeo, in the fulness of his
satisfaction. " If you have a wish ungrati-
fied, speak, and if it be in my power, it shall
be granted."

Thus urged, Piero answered : " Francesco
Bandini is the friend of my friend Lucca Mar-
tini ; he has, through him, invited me to come
to Rome and remain a year. I have indeed
a most earnest desire to behold the magnifi-
cent works of art collected there, but particu-
larly those of Michel Angelo, who, you know,
is still living, and whom I may see face to
face."

It was with much reluctance that his
parents consented to part with him, but they
felt that it was unjust to debar him from ac-
quiring eminence and fame. He took an
affectionate leave of his father and mother,
nor was Gianetta forgotten ; she still retained
a place in his affection, but he was too busy
and too studious to gather the little purple
flower of " love in idleness," and Gianetta
seemed to have no aspirations beyond the
approbation of the ever kind Signora.

While at Rome he distinguished himself by
beautiful productions, and to prove his grati-

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 211

tude to his friend Martini, he made in wax
the Moses of Michel Angelo, which is in San
Pietro in Vincola. Nothing could be more
beautiful than this work, which he presented
to his friend.

While he was studying at Rome, Martini
was appointed by the Duke of Fiorenza in-
spector of some public works, and not forget-
ting, in his new office, Piero, he wrote to in-
form him that he had prepared a room for
him, and would provide a block of marble,
upon which he might work at pleasure.

Piero, that he might be near Martini, accept-
ed the invitation, and went to Pisa, where he
found, not only his room prepared, but the
block of marble in it. He immediately began
to carve a standing figure, but as he went on,
finding some defect in the marble, which in-
terfered with his plan, he changed it into a
youth reclining, represented as a river god,
holding a vase, with water pouring from it.
The vase was supported by three figures, who
assisted in throwing the water. When he
had finished the work, he gave it to Lucca,
who presented it to the Duchessa di Fiorenza;
by her it was transferred to her brother, the
Duke of Toledo, who placed it at the foun-
tain in his garden at Chiaja.

Martini communicated to Piero, at this

212 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

time, Dante's poem, the Divina Commedia,
describing the cruelty exercised by the Arch-
bishop Ruggieri against Ugolino, condemning
him and his four sons to die of hunger. The
description so wrought on Piero, that it gave
rise to a design of this scene.

It is indeed wonderful, the variety of works
he crowded into his early years, all of them
finished with taste, elegance, and according to
the rules of art. It may well be supposed
that the second Da Vinci was no longer ob-
scure ; he had fast arisen to an eminence for
which his parents had hardly darhd to hope.

It may be asked whether the astrologer's
prediction did not sometimes occur to his
mind ; it certainly did, but he had the resolu-
tion to bury it in his bosom, and not distress
his parents by imaginary fears. He had now
passed his twenty-second year ; perhaps he felt
some symptoms of declining health, for his
watchful friends imagined that he was more
thoughtful and less gay than formerly. When
his mother remarked it to Bartolommeo, he
replied, " Surely this is natural. Leonardo
was a grave man ; our Piero has the weight
of honors on his shoulders. Ah ! we must
not expect him to sport like a boy."

About this time he was intently engaged
in what appeared to be a mere fancy design.

SCULPTURE AND SCULP: 213

It was neither a goddess nor an allegory,
but a young girl, clad in the simple habit of
the country, with her apron filled with flowers ;
it was crowded so full, that they were falling
out at each end, while she was trying to col-
lect them in her beautifully rounded hands and
arms. How much it was admired, and how
much his lady mother admired it!

" I must have that," said she, " my dear
Piero. Do you know that it reminds me of
Gianetta? It is extremely like her ; but we
must not hint it to her, — it might put foolish
thoughts into her head."

Had some one already suggested it to the
young girl, now almost a woman, or was it
an accidental blush which covered her face
and neck, as she entered the room, and saw it
standing on a pedestal ?

A slight agitation, too, seemed evident in
the voice of Piero, as he said, " Gianetta, my
mother accepts this piece of sculpture, because
it happens to resemble you."

" Let me gather up some of the herbs
for the poor child," said Gianetta, trying
to smile, and kneeling at the feet of Piero,
who stood gazing on his own workmanship.
Then, in a whisper which was like the faint
breeze of the dying wind, she uttered, " Be-

214 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

Piero started. Was the word spoken, or
was it his own imagination ?

The lady mother seemed happy in the re-
semblance. " You shall dress it with fresh
flowers every morning," said she to Gianetta.

" I am glad to have finished this work,"
said Piero, " before I leave you. I have put
my heart and soul into it. My friend Martini
is going to Genoa, and invites me to accom-
pany him. Fare thee well, my own mother.
Gianetta, take good care of the Signora ; re-
member thou hast in keeping what I love best"

Tears fell from the mother's eyes, as she
pressed her beloved son to her bosom ; his too
overflowed. It is not then strange that the
gentle Gianetta, so true to human sympathy,
should have found it quite impossible to re-
strain hers ; but she knew her place too well
to utter a word.

It was thus the little group parted, and
Piero went to take a more manly leave of his
father.

In spite of his wisdom and precaution, Bar-
tolommeo had done all in his power to spoil
his son, and in this short parting he must add
a few more words of praise and commenda-
tion.

" Thou hast been more to me, Piero, than I
dared to ask of Heaven. All I can desire,

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 215

them hast accomplished, and crowned my
gray hair with honor. My vows are ful-
filled."

The two friends reached Genoa. Again
Piero found among the wonders of art full ex-
citement ; he was applied to by the heirs of a
distinguished gentleman to execute a model
for a sepulchre, which he at once commenced,
and was intent in the work, perhaps little sus-
pecting that his own was in preparation.

He had complained of indisposition. His
friend had been summoned to Florence by the
Duke, and commended him to the care of a
good Abate, leaving him well situated in his
house and promising to hasten back.

After his departure, Piero became more ill,
and gave directions that he should be con-
veyed to Leghorn by water, and from f there
he proceeded to Pisa.

He reached his friend, prostrated in strength
and suffering from fever. The next day, to-
wards noon, he passed away to another life,
just as he had entered his twenty-third year.

Such was the short career of Piero da Vinci,
the nephew of Leonardo.

The lady mother did not long survive her
son : grief is a sure destroyer. Gianetta was
her constant attendant: their lives melted
away together, like the fading gleam of twi-
light.

216 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

The Signora's death was recorded by sculp-
tured urn. Gianetta's history is conjectured
only, by the marble statue chiselled from life
by Piero.

Giovanni da Bologna, born in Douay,
1524, was a pupil of Michel Angelo. It is
said that some severe censure on his works
from the master excited his desire to excel.
He is best known as the author of the Mercu-
ry, Messenger of the Gods, of which we see
many copies. This piece is in Florence, and
also the equestrian statue of Cosmo the First.
He lived till 1608.

Many other artists might be mentioned who
aroused this era of sculpture from the deep
sleep of vandalism. For nearly three cen-
turies it had contrived to flourish, when one
man by his false taste, yet surprising and
fascinating talents, contrived to destroy the
great and noble reform made by such men
as the Pisani, and above all by Michel An-
gelo.

Genius is often a dangerous gift, and such
it proved to Lorenzo Giovanni Bernini. He
very early discovered wonderful talents, and
as he advanced in life despised all rules of art,
and indulged in the wildest creations of fancy.
He was born in Naples, in 1598. Unfortu-
nately he found many followers, and was able

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 217

to degrade the art by fantastic deviations from
the rules of taste. His great object was to
surprise. His attitudes were striking, but un-
natural. Considering Michel Angelo as defi-
cient in grace and beauty, and imagining him-
self endowed with rival powers, he strove to
become the hero of a new style. Some of his
works are pointed out at Naples, and imme-
diately strike even the uninitiated as affected
and unnatural ; yet from their novelty, in the
beginning, they excited admiration and had
imitators.

His works are numerous in Rome, but are
now seldom selected for study. His figure of
Constantine, in the Vatican, and above all, his
Theresa, in Santa Maria della Vittoria, and
his Santa Bibiena, in the church dedicated to
that saint, seem to be exceptions to his gen-
eral works. His Theresa is represented in an
ecstatic rapture of divine love, and is a legiti-
mate subject for his peculiarities.

Probably Bernini was not in the best school
for classical improvement, as he was early flat-
tered and extolled. At eighteen he produced
his Apollo and Daphne, in marble. At the
close of his life he acknowledged that he had
made but little progress since the time when
that and his St. Theresa were made.

In the year 1644, Cardinal Mazarin offered

218 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

him, in the name of the king of France, a
salary of twelve hundred crowns, if he would
live in Paris, and confine his labors to the em-
bellishment of that city. But he declined the
offer. After the death of Urban the Eighth,
when Pope Innocent had ascended the papal
throne, Bernini found he had many enemies.
He was fortunate, however, in gaining the fa-
vor of his Holiness by a model for a fountain.
As an architect he was more faultless than as
a sculptor. The colonnade of the Basilica San
Pietro was the design of Bernini. Again he
received an invitation to France from Louis
the Fifteenth. He could not resist this tribute
to his fame, and left Rome in 1665, at the age
of sixty-eight, with a numerous retinue, travel-
ling in the style of an ambassador. He was
received in the most flattering manner; after
a time, however, he conceived a disgust, and
returned to Rome.

He lived to the age of eighty-two, and died
in 1680, leaving to his children a fortune of
thirty-three hundred thousand francs. He
was of opinion, that, in order to excel in the
arts, one must rise above all rules and create
an original manner. In this consisted his
great mistake ; to be original, he became af-
fected and extravagant. He had knowledge
enough to make Michel Angelo his model, but

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 219

imagined that he could improve upon him ;
and as the immortal Florentine made his
figures nude, Bernini clothed his in volumi-
nous and flowing drapery.

He lived in the papal reigns of Gregory the
Fifteenth, of Matteo Barberini or Urban the
Eighth, of Innocent the Tenth, and of Alexan-
der the Seventh, the successor of Innocent the
Tenth. His style is severely censured, as false
in taste and false in execution ; but his works,
in many instances, it must be allowed, are very
beautiful.

It certainly may be considered a subject of
regret, that Bernini, to build the tabernacle
over the high altar of St. Peter's Church, robbed
the portico of the Pantheon of its panelled
ceiling and beams of bronze. This almost
excites indignation ; for what monument of
Roman art can be compared to the beautiful
Pantheon ?

220 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

CHAPTER XIII.
ANTONIO CANOVA.

CANOVA may be considered as the restorer
of sculpture in Italy, since the time of Michel
Angelo. The numerous Grecian works that
adorned Italy inspired him with his early love
of sculpture, and though merely the son of a
stonecutter, he developed, even while working
at his father's trade, the true character of his
mind.

He was born at Passagno, near Treviso,
November 1st, 1757. He early began to
model in clay; this much discomposed the
neatness of his dress, and his mother prohib-
ited the dirty employment. Thus interdicted,
he secured a quantity of butter, and modelled
a lion from it. His mother was so much sur-
prised by its beauty and lifelike appearance,
that she contrived to have it placed on the
table of a Patrician of Venice, named Falieri.
The nobleman saw at once the genius of
Canova, and put him under the instruction of

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 221

a sculptor called Toretti, where he made great
progress. His early attempts are yet pre-
served, particularly two baskets of fruit, exe-
cuted in marble.

He studied at the Academy of the Fine Arts
at Venice, and won several prizes. At the
age of twenty-two he completed a group of
Daedalus and Icarus. This work gave so
much satisfaction, that the Senate of Venice
sent him to Rome, with a pension of three
hundred ducats.

Canova visited the studios of the modern
artists, and studied the forms of ancient sculp-
ture. He professed himself much indebted to
Raphael Mengs, Sir W. Hamilton, and par-
ticularly to the celebrated Winckelmann. He
soon became distinguished, and the brightest
anticipations were conceived of his future suc-
cess ; how well he fulfilled them, we at this
day fully know. His Cupid and Psyche, his
Venus and Adonis, the Dancers, the Graces,
Paris, Mars, and Venus, and particularly his
Repentant Magdalen, are enough to establish
his fame.

Pope Pius named him Inspector- General of
the Fine Arts in the Roman States, with a pen-
sion of four hundred scudi. He was also in-
vited to Paris by the First Consul, and, by the
Pope's permission, went. He was there re-

222 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

ceived with open arms, immediately loaded
with all their academic honors, received as a
member of the Institute, and the friend of
the First Consul.

At this time, while staying in Paris, he ex-
ecuted the statue of Napoleon. This did not
please the subject himself, for on seeing it he
exclaimed, " Canova croit done que je me bats
a coup de poing." This statue was presented
by Louis the Eighteenth to the British govern-
ment ; afterwards it came into the possession
of the Duke of Wellington.

Canova received the title of Prince of the
Academy of St. Luke ; this was an honor
which had not been awarded to any one for
many years. He was afterwards appointed
to visit Paris, to recover the works of art of
which Bonaparte had spoiled Italy. His
reception was much less gracious on this
errand, but he executed well his commis-
sion, and with a decision that was termed
hauteur. But it was an unwelcome errand
to the French, who had so long been decked
in the spoils of the classic peninsula. Cano-
va understood the dignity of his office, and
styled himself " the Pope's ambassador."
The French minister said in reply, " You
mean, his packer."

Canova was received with every honor on

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 223

his return to Rome. Pius acknowledged his
ambassador by the utmost distinction, and
named him Marquis of Ischia, with an en-
dowment of three thousand Roman scudi.
Canova, with characteristic liberality, conse-
crated the whole of this sum to the encour-
agement of art.

Few artists have been able to do so much
for the arts ; he founded annual prizes, and was
always ready to assist young 'artists with his
purse and counsel. He began a church at
Possagno, and when he died, left a sum for
its completion.

If we go over the list of Canova's produc-
tions during the thirty years which he filled
with honor, we find that he has left fifty-three
statues, twelve groups, fourteen cenotaphs,
eight large monuments, seven colossal figures,
a group of colossal size, fifty-four busts, and
twenty-six bas-reliefs, besides a number of
unfinished pieces. He never trusted to assist-
ants, but executed all his designs himself.
Yet sculpture did not wholly absorb him ;
there are extant twenty-two pictures from his
hand.

He died at Venice, -October 13th, 1822,
aged sixty-six years. His heart was put in
the Church of San Marco at Venice, in the
magnificent tornb he had erected for Titian,

224 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

(but whose remains had not yet been there
deposited,) and his body was buried at Pos-
sagno, his native place. Titian was after-
wards removed from an obscure corner ol
San Marco, and placed in the monument.

It was not until Canova's time, that the
true beauty of the antique was again rightly
prized, and redeemed from the influence of
Bernini, from Algardi, Roggi, Ferrata, Bru-
nelli, and Rusconi ; although in the middle of
the last century, Winckelmann and Mengs,
under the patronage of Cardinal Albani, had
called forth into light, and studied out the
true and classical art of antiquity.

We cannot too highly estimate the genius
of Canova in reviving a pure and just style,
at a period when the vigor and originality of
Michel Angelo were in a manner lost by
modern sculptors, and the noble simplicity of
earlier times abandoned. His Theseus was
his first great undertaking, and it is said that
he employed no inferior artist to work down
the marble, but executed it wholly with his
own hand.

It is most pleasant to contemplate him as
possessed of wealth- and honor ; the poor
artist returning the patronage which he once
received. The Roman Academy of Antiquity
was endowed by him ; pensions were granted

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

to young students, prizes established for the
most successful works, and charities for desti-
tute artists, and for the wives and families of
those who died in want. He undertook
magnificent works, and his liberality seemed
boundless. Many of his noble studies were
furnished gratuitously. He erected a temple
near the spot of his nativity, and furnished
the design for the whole edifice.

It was Canova's fate to execute a work in
1807, which called forth all the sensibility of
his heart. Louisa, Countess of Albany, the
beautiful and unfortunate wife of the Pre-
tender, Charles James Edward Stuart, grand-
son of James the Second, requested Canova to
erect a monument to the memory of Vittoria
Alfieri. This may be called Canova's most
elaborate work, and in this he combined his
various and lofty talents of dignity, expres-
sion, and deep feeling.

It cannot be uninteresting to speak of this
noble and interesting woman. Married when
very young to the Pretender, she early dis-
covered that her happiness was shipwrecked.
Still, however, she bore with patience and
gentleness the violent temper of her husband.
He was fifty-two when she married him ; they
lived for some time at Rome, and received
the honors of royalty ; but his inordinate am-
15

226 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

bition at length disgusted even his adherents.
We will now give Alfieri's account of this
lady : —

" I determined in the month of October to
visit Florence, without having decided whether
to pass the winter there, or at Turin ; but I
had scarcely arrived before an event took
place which induced me to take up my res-
idence there for several years, and, indeed,
which almost determined me to abjure my
native country, and thus acquire literary lib-
erty.

" During the preceding summer, which I
had passed at Florence, I frequently met with
a very distinguished foreigner, remarkable for
her beauty and amiable manners. It was
impossible not to note this lady, and still more
impossible not to seek to please her when
once in her company. Though I might easily
have obtained access to her, since most for-
eigners of distinction, as well as the Floren-
tine nobility, visited at her house, yet from
my reserved and retired character I declined an
introduction, and contented myself with meet-
ing her at the theatres and in the public walks.
" The first impression she made on me
was most agreeable. Large black eyes, full
of spirit and gentleness, joined to a fair
complexion and flaxen hair, gave surprising

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 227

brilliancy to her beauty. Twenty-five years
of age, possessing a taste for letters and the
fine arts, an amiable character, an jinn:.
fortune, and placed in domestic circumstances
of the most painful nature, how was it p.
ble to avoid feeling the deepest interest in
her?"

Such was the early impression which Count
Alfieri received from Louisa of Stolberg. He
was afterwards introduced to her, and says he
was " involuntarily caught in the toils of
love." From this time his mind seems to have
been occupied by the image of this unfortunate
woman. He wrote his celebrated tragedy of
Mary Stuart at her suggestion. She exercised
a happy influence over his character, stimulat-
ing him to literary and noble pursuits. At
this time he says : —

" My days glided away in unruffled tran-
quillity, with the exception of the sympathy
I experienced in seeing Mia Donna — the
phrase is untranslatable — a victim to the
tyranny of a peevish and drunken husband.
I participated in all her sufferings, and felt
the bitterness of death. I only saw her in
the evening, or when dining at her house,
her husband always present ; for though they
had been married nearly nine years, he had
never suffered her to visit or be absent from
him.

'228 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

" When I saw her in the evening, my hap-
piness was embittered by witnessing the sor-
row which oppressed her. Without a constant
application to study, I could hardly have sup-
ported the hard necessity of seeing her so
seldom."

The character of Alfieri was an extraordi-
nary one. It is to be regretted that there
is, no translation which does justice to his
memoir of himself; but there are insuperable
difficulties in translating the Italian into Eng-
lish. The title Alfieri gives to the lady is
uniformly "Mia Donna " ; his translator sub-
stitutes " my fair friend"

After enduring the heaviest trials from her
brutal and now almost constantly intoxicated
husband, the Countess was at length relieved
in some measure from his tyranny by the
influence of Alfieri, who, as a man of rank
and letters, stood high. It was secretly ar-
ranged that she should visit one of the con-
vents of Florence ; her husband, as usual, ac-
companied her, and was greatly astonished
when informed that she was to remain there.
The miserable man tried in vain to retain
his victim, but he was informed that there
was no appeal from the government. She
did not stay here long, but was sent by her
brother-in-law, Cardinal York, to be placed in
a convent in Rome.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

Alfieri had accomplished his purpn
obtaining a release for the Countess from the
tyranny of her husband, which was so well
known that every one approved of the step
she had taken. After her departure the poet
remained desolate and sad. He would not
follow her to Rome, as it might give rise to
rumors. After one year he made a short visit
to that place, and saw the Countess at the
grate of her convent. He had at least the
satisfaction of knowing she was released from
her persecutor. He remained in Rome but a
few days.

At length the Countess obtained permission
from the Cardinal, her brother, to leave
the convent, and live separate from her hus-
band, in an apartment he assigned her in his
palace. Her ample fortune made her perfectly
independent of all pecuniary considerations,
and this arrangement appears to have been a
happy one. Alfieri was now permitted to
visit her, and she performed the part of a true
friend. Some of his finest tragedies were
written under her influence. His visits were
more and more frequent, and at length the
Cardinal interfered to forbid them. Alfieri
acknowledges that the frequency of his visits
was indiscreet, but declares that their inter-
course never exceeded the strictest limits of

230 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

honor and propriety. He voluntarily re-
nounced the pleasure of this intercourse, and
left Rome in 1783.

He wandered for years through England
and France, absorbed sometimes in writing
poetry and tragedies, and sometimes in pur-
chasing horses, a passion from his youth
upwards. He says that as soon as he arrived
in London he began to purchase horses, and
at length increased his stud to fourteen. In
riding, superintending his horses, and writing
to the Countess, he spent his time in the great
metropolis.

After passing some months in England, he
set out on his return to Rome, taking with him
his horses. Every day some mischance hap-
pened to these favorites ; one had a violent
cough, another became lame, and a third
would not eat. In the passage from Dover
they were necessarily stowed in the hold of
the vessel. On arriving at Calais they were
slung over the sides into the sea, and com-
pelled to swim for their lives. He succeeded
finally in getting them safe ashore, and was
rewarded by the admiration they excited at
Amiens, Paris, and Lyons. All this was
nothing to the passage of the Alps, of which
the account is sufficiently amusing. He ar-
rived, however, at Turin with his convoy safe.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS.

But as we are not giving the li:
Aifieri, we must cut short this iiariM
The Countess obtained permission to
the waters of Baden, and in Germany Alfi-
eri saw her near Colmar in Alsace; but ihey
met only to separate. After a long series of
trials, at length Alfieri received the intelligence
that the lady was free. Her husband died in
1788. She returned to Italy, and was secretly
married to Alfieri.

Her influence on the ardent character of
the poet seems to have been undiminished,
and his constancy to her entire. " Without
her," he says, " I never could have accom-
plished any thing excellent." His first meet-
ing with her is beautifully described in his
Life, — "quella gentelissima e bella Signora."
A few moments before his death, he held out
his hand to the Countess, and said to her,
" Clasp my hand, my beloved, I die ! " And the
word was but uttered, when it was fulfilled.

Thus died Vittorio Alfieri, in his fifty-
seventh year, after a life of devoted love and
literary celebrity. For a short time his re-
mains were deposited beneath a simple stone
in the Church of Santa Croce at Florence.

It was to Canova, for we now return to OUT
sculptor, that his widow applied to erect a
monument worthy of Alfieri. It is a splendid

232 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

sarcophagus ; each of the four corners is
ornamented with a tragic mask, a tribute to
the genius of the poet. In the centre is his
bust, sculptured in a medallion. Beside the
tomb is a draped figure of Italy, pointing to
the poet, and weeping for her favorite son.
On the base is seen a lyre, beautifully
sculptured. It stands in the Church of
Santa Croce, near the tombs of Michel An-
gelo and Machiavel. A little seat, opposite
the monument, was for years pointed out as
the spot where the Countess was accustomed
to resort to contemplate the tomb of her
beloved.

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 233

CHAPTER XIV.

THORWALDSEN.

COPENHAGEN was the birthplace of Thor-
waldsen, and 1770 was the year of his birth.
The early predilection for art in the boy origi-
nated in the employment of his father, who
supported his family by rough carvings in
wood, in the dock-yards of Copenhagen.

It is striking to observe how early a direc-
tion is given to the youthful mind by daily
habit and observation. The father little im-
agined that in his own laborious employment
he was cultivating the genius of his son,
which was hereafter to bring forth such noble
fruits. When his predilection for art first de-
veloped itself, his father was urged to place
him at the Academy of Copenhagen. He
was unwilling, his assistance had become
important, but he at length consented, and in
1781, when he had attained his eleventh year,
he entered the Academy. Here he obtained
the highest marks of approbation ; probably

234 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

he owed much of this success to the persever-
ing gentleness of his temper, and an entire
devotion to his studies.

After he had made obvious improvement,
his father was desirous that he should return
to his wood-carving. This measure was de-
cidedly opposed by his instructor, and the son
determined to devote a part of his time to
the assistance of his father, reserving to him-
self an equal part of it for his own improve-
ment in sculpture. In 1787 he obtained a
prize.

He was so successful at the Academy, that
he was allowed the gratuity set apart for trav-
elling students. With this he immediately
set out for Rome, the earnestly desired haven
of artists, and in the spring of 1797 arrived
there. He did not at first obtain the success
he had anticipated ; his prospects grew dark,
his money was almost expended, and he felt
obliged to return home. Still, however, he
had not failed in acquiring reputation.

At this time Mr. Thomas Hope was acci-
dentally conducted to his studio by an Italian
servant. He was much struck with his works,
particularly a figure of Jason in clay. He
demanded of the artist for what sum he
would complete it in marble. Thorwaldsen
replied, for six hundred zecchini. " That is

SCUM \D SCULPTORS. 235

below its merit," replied the noble-spirited
banker, " I will give you eight hundred, and
every facility for accomplishing your work."

We may judge of the effect produced on
the sculptor. He now fixed his residence at
Rome, and thought no longer of returning.

His noble creation of art brought him honor
and wealth. He was engaged in works for
the palace of the Pope, in expectation of Na-
poleon's visit to Rome. He modelled his Day
and Night, his Hebe and Mercury, and made
beautiful sepulchral monuments. He was in-
vited to return to Denmark, and he received
the most flattering tokens of respect from
his native country.

It was most natural that he should wish to
revisit the land of his birth, and in 1819 he
returned to it; but he found there the changes
which belong to time and chance. Both of
his parents were dead, and after passing a
year at Copenhagen, under his new honors
and griefs, he went back to Rome to prosecute
his labors.

Happily there is no difficulty in tracing out
the life of Thorwaldsen. His high and noble
career is well recorded. His sepulchral mon-
uments have been the admiration of Europe.
We of another hemisphere have beheld with
delighted eyes his beautiful and natural rep-

236 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

reservation of children, who may well be con-
sidered the angels of sculpture, and, we think,
are much more lovely when represented with-
out wings than with them.

On a subsequent visit to Denmark, he ex-
ecuted two bas-reliefs, " Christmas Joy in
Heaven," and the " Genius of Poetry." The
latter he gave to his friend, Oehlenschlager,
the author of some fine tragedies.

He intended returning again to Rome in
the summer of 1844, but was suddenly at-
tacked with disease of the heart on the 24th
of March, and died at the age of seventy-
three. A public funeral demonstrated the
high veneration of the people. The king of
Denmark received his body at the entrance of
the church.

To the Museum in Copenhagen, which
bears his name, he bequeathed all the works
of art in his possession. — casts of his own
works, his statues, his paintings, his cameos,
bronzes, medals, and engravings, — a most
valuable collection, made during his residence
in Rome.

A statue of Lord Byron was executed, at
particular request, by Thorwaldsen ; a sub-
scription having been raised for this purpose.
The poet is seated on the fragment of a ruined
temple, with his feet on the broken shaft of a

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 237

column. With one hand he presses a pencil
on his lips, as if meditating in the midst of
composition ; in the other he holds a volume
of Childe Harold.

The statue arrived in London in the year
1833, and was to be deposited in Westmin-
ster Abbey, when, to the astonishment of the
subscribers, it was refused admittance. It is
now at Trinity College, Cambridge, the orna-
ment of the library.

Thorwaldsen has justly been called the
" Danish Phidias." There is no doubt that
his sculpture approaches more nearly to Gre-
cian art than any of modern times.

His memory is equally beloved as a philan-
thropist and an artist. The Life of Thor-
waldsen, by Dr. Thiele, has just been pub-
lished at Leipzig. We shall content our-
selves, therefore, with a few observations,
which may be of service to those artists who
labor for years without being able to demon-
strate their powers.

The noble and sensitive spirit of Thorwald-
sen, as we have intimated, was nearly crushed
by the neglect and want of appreciation with
which his works Were viewed, and he was
about quitting Rome in despair, when the
genius and intellect of Mr. Hope, united to his
generosity, gave the artist an opportunity of

238 FAMILIAR SKETCHES OF

proving to the world his surpassing excellence.
After this period his career became brilliant ;
every one of his works was eagerly sought,
and he arose to the heights of fame. We
are aware that his was a peculiar excellence,
but the young artist need not despair. Let
him study as Thorwaldsen did, with unremit-
ting industry ; let him patiently wait for some
happy consummation of his genius and toil.
We fully believe that every artist, if he will
honestly seek the truth, may be able to esti-
mate in some degree the value of his own
works. He has a thousand tests by which to
judge them, but none more striking than the
effect they produce on promiscuous gazers.
The ignorant may applaud and parasites
admire, but there is a consciousness of truth
which forces itself upon his judgment. Many
an artist has spent the best years of his life in
trying to be what nature never intended he
should be. When this conviction comes, let
him magnanimously renounce the profession
of sculptor, painter, or musician, and seek an
independence among the more humble, but
useful and honest men of his native land.
But this is all unlike the discouragement of
Thorwaldsen, or that of Flaxman ; they had
the inward support of true genius, the divine
fellowship of art. Thorwaldsen received his

SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS. 239

crown while living. Flaxman's works are
now earning him posthumous fame, and were
never fully appreciated till after his death.

The endowments of genius are peculiar,
and sometimes unfit the possessor for what is
called popular applause. In some instances
they may soar too high for common apprecia-
tion, and are not comprehended. Fortunately,
however, this is not often the case ; the high-
est order of talent and execution finds its re-
sponsive sympathy in the human heart. The
uninstructed are softened, elevated, and de-
lighted, they know not how or why ; they are
merely obeying the great law of nature, with
its kindred associations.

END OF VOL. i.

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