UC-NRLF B ^ tD5 ^^^ :/ ^^li MIGH6LANGEL0 -SS2«- .^^Jfiis^r^ a I .1/ ' P/mfvr tmmmmm NJ» WMH \BftV^ *?«?*': ir 1 MASTERS IN ART A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATED MONOGRAPHS: ISSUED MONTHLY PART 17 MAY, 1901 VOLUME 2 ^itf^tlntiQtlo K^ a jpainter CONTENTS Plate I. Holy Family Plate II. The Creation of the Sun and Moon Plate III. The Creation of Man Plate IV. The Temptation and Expulsion Plate V. Jeremiah Plate VI. The Delphic Sibyl Plate VII. Daniel Plate VIII. The Cum^an Sibyl Plate IX. Decorative Figure Plate X. Last Judgment Design of the Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel Portrait of Michelangelo, Uffizi Gallery: Florence The Art of Michelangelo Criticisms by Taine, Delacroix, Berenson, Muntz, Wolfflin, E. H. AND E. W. Blashfield and Hopkins, Editors, Symonds The Works of Michelangelo in Painting: Descriptions of the Plates and a List of Paintings Michelangelo Bibliography Photo-Engravings ht Folsom and Sunirgren: Boston. Press-work by the Everett Press: Boston. Uffizi Gallery: Florence Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Sistine Chapel: Rome Facing page 36 Page 20 Page 21 Page 34 Page 40 PUBLISHERS' ANNOUNCEMENTS SUBSCRIPTIONS: Subscription price, $1.50 a year, in advance, postpaid to any address in the United States or Canada: to foreign countries in the Postal Union, $2.00. Single copies, 15 cents. Subscriptions may begin with any issue. But as each yearly volume of the magazine commences with the January number, and as index-pages, bindings, etc., are prepared for complete volumes, intending subscribers are advised to date their subscriptions from January. REMITTANCES : Remittances may be made by Post Office money-order, bank cheque, express order, or in post- age stamps. Currency sent by mail usually comes safely, but should be securely wrapped, and is at the risk of the sender. CHANGES OF ADDRESS : When a change of address is desired, both the old and the new addresses should be given, and notice of the change should reach this office not later than the fifteenth of the month to affect the succeeding issue. The publishers cannot be responsible for copies lost through failure to r.otiiy chem of such changes. BOUND VOLUMES AND BINDINGS : VolWe L,, Containinp, Parts i to 12 inclusive, bound in brown buckram with gilt stamps and gilt top, $3.00, postpp.ia'; bband in green half-morocco, gilt top, $3.50, postpaid. Sub- scribers' copies of Volume 1. will be bound to ordtr in buckr.-n.,' wiCh Jil.. aramps a?id gilt top, for ^1.505 or in half- morocco, gilt top, for 52. 00. Indexes and half-iitles foi bmding 'Vo'n.me 1 supplied on application. BATES & GUILD COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 42 CHAUNCY STREET, BOSTON, MASS. iij-40/ Entered at the Boston Post Office as Second-class Mail Matter. Copyright., IQOI., by Bates & Guild Company., Boston. MASTERS IN ART Bo\n\d Volvimes of MASTERS IN ART ybr 1901 MASTE mm \ AN DY< TITIAN :><'■! 7 tCET MJYMULC MILLET .'.'^i-BEiLIl MViriLU H^LS■, I' M HAE' MASTERS *INART^ vAN-DYCK !:;■■ TITIAN iJV VELASQJ/EZ v., HOLBElNYi r^; BOTTICELLI ''-i RtMCRANUT^-' REYNOLDS y'- \ MiLLET r~ O'lE-^MiElLINl &■ ^ MVRILLO )< > HALS [Ji' 4 RMHAEL & Full Cloth, postpacid. $3.00 Gold lettering and gilt top ; brown buckram. Subscribers' copies bound in this style for $1.50. -■: Ha-lf Morocco (green) postpaid, $3.30 Gold lettering and gilt top. Subscribers' copies bound in this style for $2.00. Bates 6v Guild Company. Boston )ci)ool of Bratotng anti ^aintms MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS, BOSTON, MASS. fnjitructor;^ : E. C. TARBELL, F. W. BENSON, and PHILIP HALE, Drawing and Painting B. L. PRATT, Modelling Mrs. WM. STONE, Decorative Design E. W. EMERSON, Anatomy A. K. CROSS, Perspective Twenty-fifth year now open. Free use of Museum galleries. Paige Foreign Scholarship for men and women. Helen Hamblen Scholarship. Ten Free Scholarships. Six prizes in money. For circulars and terms address Miss Emily Danforth Norcross, Manager CJje Cric ^ajje ^c&ool of 9lrt Third Year, Oct. i, 1900, to June i, 1901. Head Instructor and Director, ERIC PAPE, Painter and Illustrator. No Examinations for Admissiort, Drawing and Painting from life, separate classes for men and women. Portraiture, Still Life, Water-color, Pastel, Pyrogravure, Wood-carving, Composition, and Decorative Design. Illustration, with costume models, Pen, Wash, Gouache, Poster and Book-cover designing. Decorative Illumination for books. Evening Life and Illustration Class for men, 7 to 10 P.M. Scholarships, Medals, and Prizes, For circulars and all information address H. JARVIS PECK, Secretary, Corner Massachusetts Ave. and Boylston St., Boston, Mass. art acatiemp of Cincinnati Endowments, $393,000. Tuition Fee, $20. DRAWING AND PAINTING Fi^ve Life Classes: Frank Duveneck, T. S. Noble, V. Nowottny, L. H. Meakin, and J. H. Sharp MODELLING : C. J. Barnhom CARVING : W. H. Fry Also Preparatory and other Classes 33d year : Sept. 24, 1900, to May 25, igoi AND SUMMER TERM OF 10 WEEKS FROM JUNE 18 For circulars write A.T. GosHORN, Z)/r^r/or, -Cincinnati Virginia female ^Uj^titiite for goung ?laliiCjS situated in the mountains of Virginia. Preparatory and elective courses. Music, Art, Languages, and Elocution, specialties. Fifty-seventh ses- sijn iegins September 13. Write for catalogue. Wiss MARIA PENDLETON DUVAL, Prin., Staunton, Va. Successor to Mrs. Gen. J. E. B. Stuart. COHMERCIAL DRAWING TAUGHT Coj By V/e fit the student for work in Newspaper, Lithographing, raving and other Establishments, or the Studio. The profession is highly profitable, and I the demand for competent educated artists is practically unlimited. PRACTICAL drawing taught by PBACTICAI. methods. Write for further information. SCHOOL OF APPLIED ART, Box 3807, Battle Creek, Hich. M ASTERS IN ART ^ «t X There is such a. wide difference in the quality of V V Oriental {^t SO mvich tKa^t is in- ferior in this line on the market, that the \itmost care should be taken to secure perfect speci- mens. The advice of QlH writers on this s\ibject invariably is: **'Btiy Ort- erftal ^txgs J^rom a, re- liable hoxxse.** The knowledge gained by yea^rs of experience in handling these inter- esting Floor Coverings, {^l the \jnlimited scope of o\jr Oriental 'Rxt^ Department covering, ©ls it does, the choicest importations of every importa^nt va^riety, enable \is to a^ssure our patrons, not only a large assortment to select from, b\jt a^lso the a^bsolxite va^lxie a^nd genxiineness of every rug pxircha^sed from us. 'BTiOADWA^^ rSl 19TH ST. OAJ^E r» w r^ a A Ci
• > , > .. •.* • » > ' » ' ' ; ,;. : H' -• ^^' '• '• " MASTKRS IX AHT PLATE I PHOTOGRAPH BY ALINARI A MICHELANGELO ~ HOLY FAMILY TTFFIZI GALLEIJY, FLOKENCE — K _ ' V 3 $ I* ^-^^ ■f *^ * -* _ »?: £f JC' 4E * S* * *•* '^^ 3J. *• fi XT. > ^ ■ i' I 3 J > • i ': ' -> ' » ■» ' ' • 3TEES i:^ AKT PLATE V PHOTOGRAPH BY ANDERSON .MICHELANGELO JEREMIAH SISTIJVE CHAPEL, HOME 5^ a 3 3 a STEKS IX ART PLATK Vl PMOTOGR'^PH BY ANDERSON MICHEL A XGELO THE DELPHIC SIBVL SISTIXE CHAPEL, HOME I MASTERS IN" AI{T PLATF. VII PHOTOGRAPH BY ANDERSON MICHEL AXGELO DAXIELi SISTINE CHAPEL, HOME c f f c c ^ f ' r c ' ' ' ^ c ' ^' 1 i MASTERS IX ART PLATK VIII PHOTOGRAPH BY ALINARI MICHELANGELO THE CUMAEAX SIBYL SISTIXE CHAPEL, HOME » > ' 1 > > 9 » » » ' ■ 9 » » H » » » MASTERS IX ART PLATE IX PHOTOGRAPH BY BR AUN, CLEMENT A CIE. MICHELANGELO DECOBATIVE FIGURE SISTINE CHAPEL, HOME ' ' > J > , ' ' ' \ rASTERS IX AKT PLATK X PHOTOGRAPH BY AN0ERSO^ MICnELANGELO LAST JUDGME:jfT SIST1J\'E CHAPEL, HOME POKTHAIT OF MICHELAXGELO UFFIZI GALLEKT, FLOKEXCE Vasari mentions but two painted portraits of Michelangelo ; one by his friend Bugiardini, the other by Jacopo del Conte. Del Conte's work has disappeared ; but Svmonds is inclined to think that the portrait here reproduced may " with some show of probability " be assigned to Bugiardini. MASTERS IN ART JWttijelau^elo Buonart^oti BORN 1475: DIED 1564 FLORENTINE SCHOOL ^ In this issue only Michelangelo's works in painting are illustrated. His achievements in sculpture were considered in the preceding number of this Series, in which an account of his life was also given. H. TAINE 'VOYAGE EN ITALIE' THERE are four men in the world of art and of literature so exalted above all others as to seem to belong to another race ; namely, Dante, Shake- speare, Beethoven, and Michelangelo. No profound knowledge, no posses- sion of all the resources of art, no fertility of imagination, no originality of intellect, sufficed to secure them this position ; these they all had, but these are of secondary importance. That which elevated each of them to this rank was his soul, — the soul of a fallen deity, struggling irresistibly after a world disproportionate to our own, always suffering and combating, always toiling and tempestuous, and as incapable of being sated as of sinking, devoting itself in solitude to erecting before men colossi as ungovernable, as vigorous, and as sadly sublime as its own insatiable and impotent desire. Michelangelo is thus a modern spirit, and it is for this reason, perhaps, that we are able to comprehend him without effort. Was he more unfortunate than other men .? Regarding things externally, it seems that he was not. If he was tormented by an avaricious family, if on two or three occasions the caprice or the death of a patron prevented the execution of an important work already designed or commenced, if his coun- try fell into servitude, if minds around him degenerated or became weak, these are not unusual disappointments, or serious and painful obstacles. How many among his contemporary artists experienced greater.'' But suffering must be measured by inward emotion, and not by outward circumstance ; and if ever a spirit existed which was capable of transports of enthusiasm and passionate indignation, it was his. Sensitive to excess, he was therefore lonely and ill at ease in the petty concerns of society, to such an extent, for example, that he could never bring himself to entertain at dinner. Men of deep, enduring emotions main- tain an outward reserve, and fall back upon introspection for lack of out- 22 0la^tcv0 in ^rt ward sympathy. From his youth up society was distasteful to Michelangelo, and he had so applied himself to solitary study as to be considered proud and even insane. Later, at the acme of his fame, he withdrew himself still more completely from his kind ; he took his walks in solitude, was served by one domestic, and passed entire weeks on his scaffoldings, wholly absorbed in self-communion. He could hold converse with no other mind : not only were his sentiments too powerful, but they were too exalted. From his earliest years he had passionately cherished all noble things ; first his art, to which he gave himself up entirely, notwithstanding his father's opposition, investigating all its accessories, measure and scalpel in hand, with such extraordinary persistence that he became ill ; and next, his self-respect, which he maintained at the risk of his life, facing imperious popes and forcing them to regard him as an equal, braving them, says his historian, "more than a king of France would have done." Ordinary pleas- ures he held in contempt ; " although rich, he lived laboriously, as frugally as a poor man," often dining on a crust of bread ; treating himself severely, sleeping but little and then often in his clothes, without luxury of any kind, without household display, without care for money, giving away statues and pictures to his friends, twenty thousand francs to his servant, thirty thousand and forty thousand francs at one time to his nephew, besides countless other sums to the rest of his family. More than this : he lived like a monk, without wife or mistress, chaste in a voluptuous court, knowing but one love, and that austere and Platonic, for one woman as proud and as noble as himself. At evening, after the labor of the day, he wrote sonnets in her praise, and knelt in spirit before her, as did Dante at the feet of Beatrice, praying to her to sustain his weaknesses and keep him in the "right path." He bowed his soul before her as before an angel of virtue, showing the same fervid exaltation in her service as that of the mystics and knights of old. She died before him, and for a long time he remained " downstricken, as if deranged." Several years later his heart still cherished a great grief, — the regret that he had not, at her deathbed, kissed her brow or cheek instead of her hand. The rest of his life corresponds with such sentiments. He took great de- light in the "arguments of learned men," and in perusal of the poet's, espe- cially Petrarch and Dante, whom he knew almost by heart. " Would to heaven," he one day wrote, " I were such as he, even at the price of such a fate ! For his bitter exile and his virtue I would exchange the most fortunate lot in the world ! " The books he preferred were those imbued with gran- deur, the Old and New Testaments, and especially the impassioned dis- courses of Savonarola, his master and his friend, whom he saw bound to the pillory, strangled, and burnt, and whose " living word," he wrote, " would always remain branded in his soul." A man who lives and feels thus knows not how to accommodate himse'f to this life ; he is too different. The admiration of others produces no self- satisfaction. " He disparaged his own works, never finding that his hand had expressed the conception formed within him." One day some one encountered icljclaugclo 23 him, aged and decrepit, near the Colosseum, on foot and in the snow. He was asked where he was going. " To school," he replied ; " to school, to trv and learn something." Despair seized him often. Once, having injured his leg, he shut himself up in his house, waiting and longing for death. Finally, he even went so far as to separate himself from himself, — from that art which was his sovereign and his idol : " Picture or statue," he wrote, "let nothing now divert my soul from that divine love on the Cross, with arms always open I to receive us ! " It was the last sigh of a great soul in a degenerate age, among | an enslaved people ! Self-renunciation was his last refuge. For sixty years his works gave evidence of the heroic combat which maintained itself in his breast to the end. Superhuman personages as miserable as ourselves, forms of gods rigid with earthly passion, an Olympus of human tragedies, such is the sentiment of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. What injustice to compare with Michelangelo's works the ' Sibyls ' and the ' Isaiah' of Raphael ! The latter are vigorous and beautiful, I admit, nor do I dispute that they testify to an equally profound art; but the first glance suffices to show that they have not the same soul: they do not issue like Michelangelo's forms from an impetuous, irresistible spirit; they have never experienced like his the thrill and tension of a nervous being, concentrated and launching Itself forth at the risk of ruin. There are souls whose impressions flash out like lightning, and whose actions are thunderbolts. Such are the personages of Michelangelo. His colossal 'Jeremiah,' with eyes downcast, and with his enormous head resting on his enormous hand,— on what does he muse? His floating beard descending in curls to his breast, his laborer's hands furrowed with swollen veins, his wrinkled brow, his impene- trable mask, the suppressed mutter about to burst forth, — all suggest one of those barbarian kings, a dark hunter of the urus, preparing to dash in impotent rage against the golden gates of the Roman empire. 'Ezekiel' turns around suddenly, with an impetuous interrogation on his lips — so suddenly that the motion raises his mantle from his shoulder. The aged ' Persic Sibyl ' under the long folds of her falling hood is indefatigably reading from a book which her knotted hands hold up to her penetrating eyes. 'Jonah ' throws back his head, appalled at the frightful apparition before him, his fingers involuntarily counting the forty days that still remain to Nineveh. The ' Libyan Sibyl,' in great agitation, is about to descend, bearing the enormous book she has seized. ' The Erythraean Sibyl ' is a Pallas of a haughtier and more warlike expres- sion than her antique Athenian sister. On the curve of the vault, close to these figures, appear nude adolescents, straining their backs and displaying their limbs, sometimes proudly extended and reposing, and again struggling or dart- ing forward. Some are shouting, and some, with rigid thighs and grasping feet, seem to be furiously attacking the wall. Beneath, an old stooping pilgrim is seating himself, a woman is kissing an infant wrapped in its swaddling-clothes, a despairing man is bitterly defying destiny, a young girl with a beautiful smiling face is sleeping tranquilly, — and many others, the grandest of human forms, that speak with every least detail of their attitudes, with every least fold of their garments. 24 m a0t ex ^ in ^tt These are merely the paintings on the curve of the ceiHng. On the centre of the vault itself, two hundred feet long, are displayed historical scenes from the book of Genesis, — an entire population of figures of tragic interest. You lie down on the old carpet which covers the floor and look up. They are nearly a hundred feet above you, — smoked, scaling off, and crowded to suffocation, and remote from the demands of our art, our age, and our intellect, — yet you comprehend them at once. This man is so great that differences of time and of nation cannot subsist in his presence. The difficulty lies not in yielding to his sway, but in accounting for it. When, after your ears have been filled with the thunder of his voice, you retire to a distance, so that only its reverberations reach you, and reflection succeeds to emotion, you try to discover the secret by which he renders his tones so vibrating, and at length arrive at this, — he possessed the soul of Dante, and he passed his life in the study of the human figure. These are the two sources of his power. The human form, as he represented it, is all expression, expressive in its skeleton, its muscles, its drapery, its attitudes, and its proportions, so that the spectator is affected simultaneously by every part of the subject. And this form is made to express energy, pride, audacity, and despair, the rage of ungovern- able passion or of heroic will, and in such a way as to move the spectator with the most powerful emotion. Moral energy emanates from every physical detail ; we feel the startling reaction corporeally and instantaneously. Look at Adam asleep near Eve, whom Jehovah has just taken from his side. Never was creature buried in such profound, deathlike slumber. In the 'Brazen Serpent' the man with a snake coiled round his waist, and tearing it off, with arm bent back and body distorted as he extends his thigh, sug- gests the strife between primitive mortals and the monsters whose slimy forms ploughed the antediluvian soil. Masses of bodies, intermingled one with the other and overthrown with their heels in the air, with arms bent like bows and with convulsive spines, quiver in the toils of the serpents; hideous jaws crush skulls and fasten themselves on howling lips; miserable beings tremble on the ground with hair on end and mouths agape, convulsed with fear in the midst of the heaps of humanity around them. In the hands of a man who thus treats the skeleton and muscles, who can put rage, will, and terror into the fold of a thigh, the projection of a shoulder-blade, the flexions of the verte- brae, the whole human animal is impassioned, actixe, and combatant. Alone since the Greeks, Alichelangelo knew the full value of all the mem- bers. With him, as with them, the body lived by itself, and was not subor- dinated to the head. Supplemented by his solitary study, he rediscovered the sentiment of the nude with which the Greeks were imbued by their gym- nastic life. Before his Adam and Eve expelled from Paradise nobody thinks of looking to the face to find grief; it resides in the entire torso, in the ac- tive limbs, in the frame with its internal parts, in the friction and play of its moving joints ; it is the ensemble which strikes you. The head enters into it only as a portion of the whole ; and you stand motionless, absorbed in contemplating thighs that sustain such trunks and indomitable arm,s that are to subject the hostile earth. icljclaugclo 25 But what, to my taste, surpass all are the twenty youthful figures seated on the cornices at the four corners of each fresco, — veritable painted sculp- ture that gives one an idea of some superior and unknown world. They all seem adolescent heroes of the time of Achilles and Ajax, as noble in race, but more ardent and of fiercer energy. Here are the great nudities, the su- perb movements of the limbs, and the raging activity of Homer's conflicts, but with a more vigorous spirit and a more courageous, bold, and manly will. Who would suppose that the various attitudes of the human figure could affect the mind with such diverse emotions ? The hips actively support ; the breast respires ; the entire covering of flesh strains and quivers ; the trunk is thrown back over the thighs ; and the shoulder, ridged with muscles, is about to raise the impetuous arm. One of them falls backward and draws his grand drapery over his thigh, whilst another, with his arm over his brow, seems to be parrying a blow. Others sit pensive, and meditating, with all their limbs relaxed. Several are running and springing across the cornice, or throwing themselves back and shouting. You feel that they are going to move and to act, yet you hope that they will not, but maintain the same splendid attitudes. Nature has produced nothing like them ; but she ought thus to have fashioned the human race. In the ceiling of the Sistine she might find all types : giants and heroes, modest virgins, stalwart youths, and sporting children ; that charming ' Eve,' so young and so proud ; that beau- tiful ' Delphic Sibyl,' who, like some nymph of the Golden Age, looks out with eyes filled with innocent astonishment, — all the sons and daughters of a colossal militant race, who preserved the smile, the serenity, the pure joy- ousness, the grace of the Oceanides of i^schylus, or of the Nausicaa of Homer. The soul of a great artist contains an entire world within itself, Michelangelo's soul is unfolded here on the Sistine ceiling. Having thus once given it expression, he should not have endeavored to repeat the attempt. His ' Last Judgment,' on the altar-wall beneath, does not produce the same impression. When he finished the latter picture Michel- angelo was in his sixty-seventh year, and his inspiration was no longer fresh. He had long brooded over his ideas, he had a better hold of them, but they had ceased to excite him. He had exhausted the original sensation, — the only true one, — and in the ' Last Judgment ' he but exaggerates and copies him- self. Here he intentionally enlarges the body and inflates the muscles ; he is prodigal of foreshortenings and violent postures ; here he converts his personages into mere athletes and wrestlers engaged in displaying their strength. The angels who bear away the cross clutch each other, throw themselves backward, clench their fists, strain their thighs, as in a gymna- sium. The saints toss about the insignia of their martyrdoms, as if each sought to attract attention to his strength and agility. Souls in purgatory, saved by cowl and rosary, are extravagant models that might serve for a school of anatomy. The artist had just entered on that period of life when sentiment vanishes before science, and when the mind takes especial delight in overcoming difficulties. Even so, however, this work is unique ; it is like a declamatory speech in the mouth of an old warrior, with a rattling drum accompaniment. Some 26 jma^tcr^in^rt of the figures and groups are worthy of his grandest efforts. The powerful Eve, who maternally presses one of her horror-stricken daughters to her side ; the aged and formidable Adam, an antediluvian colossus, the root of the great tree of humanity ; the bestial, carnivorous demons ; the figure among the damned that covers his face with his arm to avoid seeing the abyss into which he is plunging ; another in the coils of a serpent, rigid with horror ; and especially the terrible Christ, like the Jupiter in Homer overthrowing the Trojans and their chariots on the plain ; and, by his side, almost con- cealed under his arm, the timorous, young, shrinking Virgin, so noble and so delicate ; — all these form a group of conceptions equal to those of the :eiling. Thev animate the whole design ; and in contemplating them we cease to feel the abuse of art, the aim at effect, the domination of manner- ism ; we only see the disciple of Dante, the friend of Savonarola, the recluse feeding himself on the menaces of the Old Testament, the patriot, the stoic, the lover of justice who bears in his heart the grief of his people, who has been a mourner at the burial of Italian liberty, one who, alone, amidst de- graded characters and degenerate minds, labored for many daily saddening years at this immense work, listening beforehand to the thunders of the Last Day, his soul filled with thoughts of the supreme Judgment. — from the FRENCH. EUGENE DELACROIX REVUE DES DEUX-MONDES: 1837 MICHELANGELO'S genius, like that of Homer among the ancients, is the fountain-head from which all great painters since have drunk. Raphael and the Roman school, the schools of Florence and of Parma, in- cluding Andrea del Sarto and Correggio, the school of Venice, including Titian, all reflect his influence. Rubens, in the north, owes much of his exuberance and audacity to him — indeed, there has been none in painting since his advent so self-poised as not to have felt his potent influence. Art will never overstep the bounds that Michelangelo has traced for her; he leaped at once to limits that cannot be surpassed. Into whatever devia- tions she may be led by caprice or the desire for novelty, the great style of the Florentine master will always ser\'e as the magnetic pole to which all must turn who would rediscover the road to true grandeur and beauty. — from THE FRENCH. BERNHARD BERENSON 'FLORENTINE PAINTERS OF THE RENAISSANCE' THE first person since the great days of Greek sculpture to comprehend fully the identity of the nude with great figure art was Michelangelo. Before him, it had been studied for scientific purposes — as an aid in ren- dering the draped figure. He saw that it was an end in itself, and the final purpose of his art. For him the nude and art were synonymous. Here lies the secret of his successes and his failures. First, his successes. Nowhere outside of the best Greek art shall we find, as in Michelangelo's works, forms whose tactile values so increase our sense of capacity, whose movements are so directly communicated and inspiring. ict)clangclo 27 Other artists have had quite as much feeling for tactile values alone — Ma- saccio, for instance ; others still have had as much sense of movement and power of rendering it — Leonardo, for example ; but no other artist of mod- ern times having at all his control over the materially significant has employed it as Michelangelo did, on the one subject vi'here its full value can be mani- fested — the nude. Hence, of all the achievements of modern art, his are the most invigorating. Surely not often is our imagination of touch roused as by his Adam in the ' Creation,' by his Eve in the ' Temptation,' or by his many nudes in the same ceiling of the Sistine Chapel — there for no other purpose, be it noted, than their direct tonic effect ! And to this feeling for the materially significant and all this power of conveying it, to all this more narrowly artistic capacity, Michelangelo joined an ideal of beauty and force, a vision of a glorious but possible humanity, which, again, has never had its like in modern times. Manliness, robustness, efi-'ectiveness, the fulfilment of our dream of a great soul inhabiting a beautiful body, we shall encounter nowhere else so frequently as among the figures in the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo completed what Masaccio had begun, the creation of the type of man best fitted to subdue and control the earth, and, who knows ! perhaps more than the earth. But unfortunately, though born and nurtured in a world where his feeling for the nude and his ideal of humanity could be appreciated, he passed most of his life in the midst of tragic disasters, and while yet in the fulness of his vigor, in the midst of his most creative years, he found himself alone, per- haps the greatest, but alas! also the last, of the giants born so plentifully during the fifteenth century. He lived on in a world he could not but despise, in a world which really could no more employ him than it could understand him. He was not allowed, therefore, to busy himself where he felt most drawn by his genius, and, much against his own strongest impulses, he was obliged to expend his energy upon such subjects as the ' Last Judgment.' His later works all show signs of the altered conditions, first in an over- flow into the figures he was creatino; of the scorn and bitterness he was feel- ing ; then in the lack of harmony between his genius and what he was com- pelled to execute. His passion was the nude, his ideal power ; but what outlet for such a passion, what expression for such an ideal, could there be in sub- jects like the ' Last Judgment,' or the 'Crucifixion of Peter ' — subjects which the Christian world imperatively demanded should incarnate the fear of the humble and the self-sacrifice of the patient ? Now humility and patience were feelings as unknown to Michelangelo as to Dante before him, or, for that matter, to any other of the world's creative geniuses at any time. Even had he felt them, he had no means of expressing them, for his nudes could convey a sense of power, not of weakness ; of terror, not of dread ; of despair, but not of submission. And terror the giant nudes of the ' Last Judgment ' do feel, but it is not terror of the Judge, who, being in no wise diff^erent from the others, in spite of his omnipotent gesture, seems to be announcing rather than willing what the bystanders, his fellows, could not unwill. As the representation of the moment before the universe disappears 28 Ma^tcv^in^tt in chaos, — gods huddling together for the Gotterdammerung, — the ' Last Judgment ' is as grandly conceived as possible ; but when the crash comes none will survive it — no, not even God. Michelangelo therefore failed in his conception of the subject, and could not but fail. But where else in the whole world of art shall we receive such blasts of energy as from this giant's dream, or, if you will, nightmare ? What a tragedy, by the way, that the one subject perfectly cut out for his genius, the one subject which required none but genuinely artistic treatment, his ' Bathing Soldiers,' executed forty years before these last works, has disappeared, leaving but scant traces ! Yet even these suffice to enable the competent student to recognize that this compo- sition must have been the greatest masterpiece in figure art of modern times. That Michelangelo had faults of his own is undeniable. As he got older, and his genius, lacking its proper outlets, tended to stagnate and thicken, he fell into exaggerations — exaggerations of power into brutality, of tactile values into feats of modelling. I have already suggested that Giotto's types were so massive because such figures most easily convey values of touch. Michelangelo tended to similar exaggerations, to making shoulders, for in- stance, too broad and too bossy, simply because they make thus a more powerful appeal to the tactile imagination. Indeed, I venture to go even farther, and suggest that his faults in all the arts, sculpture no less than painting, and architecture no less than sculpture, are due to this selfsame predilection for salient projections. But the lover of the figure arts for what in them is genuinely artistic and not merely ethical, will in Michelangelo, even at his worst, get such pleasures as, excepting a few, others, even at their best, rarely give him. EUGENE MUNTZ 'HISTOIRE DE l'aRT PENDANT LA RENAISSANCE' AS if to Stand in living antithesis. Destiny placed Michelangelo and Ra- ,■ phael together on the threshold of a new era in art — the latter to die before he had been able to give the full measure of his genius, the former to bridge generations with his tireless activity. Before Michelangelo's advent, art, trammelled by the timidity and hesi- tations of the Primitives, had advanced slowly, never falling back, it is true, but scrupulous and self-mistrustful, feeling its way tentatively and with de- liberation, and always leaving some newly discovered problem for solution by those who should follow. Then, sudden as a thunder-clap, came Michelangelo, and struck into life ^ the frescos of the Sistine, the ' Bound Captives ' of the Louvre, the ' Moses,' and the tombs of the Medici — and three great arts were definitely en- franchised ! In these unheralded masterpieces he had proclaimed and illus- trated unlimited liberty of expression, absolute liberty of movement and attitude, and the expression of a whole world of uplifting sentiments, — maj- esty, pride, melancholy, terror, justice, — all with a maximum of intensity which no one since has been able to approach. Such was Michelangelo's role in the evolution of the Renaissance. — from THE FRENCH. i c f) c I a n g c I 29 HEINRICH WOLFFLIN 'DIE K L A SSISC H F. K U N ST ' LIKE a mighty mountain torrent, enriching and devastating at the same J time, did the appearance of Michelangelo affect Italian art. Irresistible in his force, carrying all along with him, he became a deliverer to a 'i^sN — a destroyer to many. From the very beginning Michelangelo was a distinct personality, almost fearful in his one-sidedness. He grasped life as a sculptor, and only as a sculptor. What interested him was the solid form, and to him the human body was alone worthy of being represented. His type of man was not that of this earth, but rather of a race by itself, gigantic and powerful. In the strength of his delineation of form and in the clearness of his conception he is entirely beyond comparison. No experiments, no tentative efforts; with the first stroke he gives the definite expression. We find in his drawings a profoundly penetrating quality. The internal structure, the mechanical movements of the body, are so rendered as to be full of expression even to the smallest detail. Each turn, each bend of the limbs, shows a secret power. There is an incomprehensible force even in the exaggerations, and so great is the impression produced that it does not occur to us to criticise. It was characteristic of the master to exercise his talent ruthlessly for the sake of producing the utmost possible effect. Michelangelo enriched art with new and hitherto undreamed-of qualities, but at the same time he impoverished it by taking from it all delight in simple, every-day subjects, and he it was who brought about a dissonance in the Renaissance, and prepared the way for a new style, — the barocco. . . . No one, however, should hold Michelangelo responsible for the fate of Italian art. He was as he had to be, and he will always remain supremely great. But the effect that he produced was indeed disastrous, for all beauty came to be measured by the standard of his works, and an art brought into the world under peculiarly individual conditions became universal. — from the Ger- man. E. H. AND E. W. BLASHFIELD AND A. A. HOPKINS, EDITORS ^SOBB^ BIGELOW KENNARD SCO GOLDSMITHS SILVERSMITHS JEWELERS ^ IMPORTERS MAKERS OF FINE \(;atches AND CLOCKS 511 WASHINGTON ST CORNER OF WEST ST M ^jBmiS» mm ymmr Established l86j The Henry F. Miller Grand and Upright Pianofortes Noted for a musical quality of tone which many musicians prefer to that found in pianos of any other 7nanufacture. Regardless of age, and w her e- ever found throughout the entire United States, these instruments attract attention because of the sweet singing-tone so much desired by musicians ; and this is a guarantee to the purchaser that this beautiful quality of tone is lasting and continues during the entire life of the piano. WAREROOMS 88 Boylston Street, Boston 1 12 J Chestnut Street, Philadelphia MASTERS IN ART J \/ jr T 'P\/'blij:hk'd Two pictures by Rembrandt, not heretofore reproduced : David Playing the Harp to Saul From the collection of Professor Bredius in The Hague, in a fine photogravure measuring i8 1-2 x 14 1-2 ins., at $5.00, printed on von Gelder paper; and Portrait of Pembrandt's Prother in Helmet (A recent acquisition of the Berlin Gallery) in the same style, measuring 14 x 16 ins., at $5.00. AN illustrated list of our series, "Masterpieces OF Art," of works by the old masters from some of the foremost galleries, in reproductions of superior quality, in the same style as the above, including book- lets, "Masterpieces of Grosvenor House" and "The Collection of the German Emperor," is mailed upon receipt of 10 cts. in stamps. BERLIN PHOTOGRAPHIC CO. Fine Art "Publishers 14 East 23d St., New York A TRIP ABROAD ANTWERP, BRUSSELS, PARIS, COLOGNE, THE RHINE, HEIDELBERG, LUCERNE, THE RIGI, ST. GOTHARD PASS, MILAN, VENICE, VIENNA, MU- NICH, NUREMBERG, REGENSBURG OR BAY- REUTH, DRESDEN, THE SAXON SWITZERLAND, MEISSEN, BERLIN, AMSTERDAM, THE HAGUE, AND LONDON. A Tour of Urvusxia-l Irvterest. 69 Da.ys $390.00 -J» XOrite for "Detailed Itinerary J^ AMES i^l R.OLLINSON 202 Broad\vay, Ne^v York City. $1.00 WELL SPENT in buying a Linervoid Laundry Box. Length, 20 in. Width, 10 in. Depth, 8 in. Forwarded, express prepaid, on receipt of $1. MONEY REFUNDED IF NOT S.-VTISFACTORY. crane: BROS.. Linenoid Mfrs., Send for Catalogue. Westfield, Mass. We are making and selling the best Art Tool in use. .Applies color by jet of air, enabling the artist to do better work and save time. No studio complete with- out it. Circulars free. Address AIR BRUSH MFG. CO. 42 Nassau St. , Rockford, 111. ^erfeciicm j iti^i WSi-i^ii CoLOUi^. ROWNEY'S Finestdround : COLOURS . Mosi Permanent \ IN THE MARKET. ARE THE MostBril/iintTj fofT saleTby all HIGH. GiIaSS 451.^ DEALERS. Rowney*$ Jfrtists* Colours (ENGLISH MANUFACTURE) FOR OIL OR WATER-COLOUR PAINTING ROWNEY'S COLOURS ARE MADE OF THE FINEST SELECTED MATERIALS OBTAIN- ABLE, AND SHOULD ALWAYS BE USED FOR GOOD WORK ESTABLISHED 1789 ROWNEY'S COLOURS HAVE BEEN USED BY THE PRINCIPAL ARTISTS IN ENG- LAND AND FRANCE FOR OVER ONE HUNDRED YEARS ESTABLISHED 1789 FAVOR, RUHL & CO. Importers 54 Park Place, New York MASTERS IN ART Carbon prints; jftnest anti JWost Burable ^mporteti Woxk^ of 9lrt 100,000 Direct Reproductions from the Original Paintings and Drawings by Old and Modern Masters Our world-renowned publications of the most celebrated masterpieces by Titian are about 300 ; by Holbein, 400 ; by Velasquez, ISO; by Rembrandt, 400; by Fra Angelico, 120; by Fra Bartolommeo, 175; by Baudry, 100; by Bellini, 100; by Botticelli, 1 00 ; by Carracci, 220; by Chaplin, 100; by Corot, 200; by Correggio, 130; by Cranach, 100; by Diirer, 280 ; by Van Dyck, 350 ; by Greuze, 125 ; by Guer- chino, 17 0; by Guido Reni, 140; by Hals, 110; by Lorrain, 160; by Man- tegna, 100; by Michelangelo, 260; by Millet, 200 ; by Murillo, 125 ; by Peru- gino, 120; by Poussin, 140; by Prud- hon, 180; by Raphael, 800; by Romano, 100; by Rubens, 500; by Ruysdael, 100; by Andrea del Sarto, 160; by Teniers, 110; by Tintoretto, 100; by Veronese, 100; by da Vinci, 365; by Watteau, 100; etc., magnificent col- lections of Ancient, Mediaeval, and Mod- ern Architecture and Sculpture. The Illustrated Extract fr-om our General Catalogue sent on application. Price ^ JO cents i^free to Educational Institutions^. Special terms to schools. 3Sraun, CItmmt S. Co. crntt .c 2811, st«c. 249 jFtftt) a^etiue, jEetD gork Citp No other Branch House in America K i #*?5r7 IF f- mhL''' ' '^~'8 mHP R ^H^HL' . HHjjr^^^'Nv^ ^ 1 ^H^^^B^f^ i wk ^I^^^HT^ r^s y ^ 1 ^H pi I ^^^f^^^A i v^a ^' Ti^^e H k^tiiMi IMM wm.. n MASTERS IN ART Otiffierj: o_f B xx tidings At? Old Liabilitjr from damages caused by ice or snow falling from roofs by applying T!;£ Folsom New Model Snow Guard TRADE MARK a yC\ This is the simplest and only perfect device which holds snow where it falls, prevents slides, or the gathering of snow and ice at the eaves, which so frequentlv causes water to back up under the shingles or slates and damage walls and ceilings. Folsom Snow Guards are made for shingle, slate, tile, or metal roofs, both old and new, and are applied at trifling expense. Specified as the standard snow guard by architects everv where. Write for information. FOLSOM SNOW GUARD CO. 105 Beach Street, Boston, Mass. PYROGRAPHY OR BURNT WOOD ETCHING The art of decorating wood, leather, or cardboard by burning the design into the article to be decorated A descriptive booklet, giving directions, description and price list of tools and materials, designs, etc., will be sent free upon request THAYER & CHANDLER IMPORTERS AND DEALERS IN ART GOODS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION 144-146 Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111. Visitors to New York Are cordially invited to the exbibition Of Paintings By Bouguereau, Rosa Bonheur, Cazin, Corot, Daubigny, Dupre, Diaz, Fromentin, Henner, Jacque, Meissonier, Roybet, Rousseau, Thaulow, Troyon, Ziem, and a COLLECTION of Portraits by the Old Masters of the Early French, English, and Dutch Schools JIrt 6allerlc$ of EDWARD BRANDUS 391 Fifth Avenue Rue de la Paix Between 36th and 37th Streets J ^ New York Paris The Great Picture Light. FRINK'S PORTABLE PICTURE REFLECTORS For electric light, meet all requirements for lighting pictures. Every owner of fine paintings could use one or more of these portable reflectors to advantage. The fact that so many have ordered these outfits for their friends is proof that their merits are appreciated. Height, closed, 51 inches ; ex- tended, 81 inches. The light from the re- flector can be directed at any picture in the room and at any angle. Frink's Portable Picture Reflector with Telescope Standard. No. 7034, brass, polished or antique, with plug and socket for electric lamp, $27.50. No. 7035, black iron, with plug and socket for electric lamp $16.50 Nos. 7034, 7035. Pat. Dec. 14, '97. These special Reflectors are used by all the picture-dealers in New York, and by pri- vate collectors not only in this country, put in Paris, London, Berlin, and other cities. When ordering, kindly mention the system of electricity used. Satisfaction guaranteed. Parties ordering these Reflectors need not hesitate to return them at our expense if not found satisfactory. I. P. FRINK. 551 Pearl Street, New York City. GEO. FRINK SPENCER, Manager. Telephone, 860 Franklin. 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subjea to immediate recall. jUU23l96yoy CiMar'filDjj r^:g'P ld J UN f 196^ jpire9^^ 111 18Jan'65BG RECTO-t© 2i'65'3 ptt JI\H ^?^ ^^^' [ ^24'663^Hiiti ^^«I9 1968 8 .., LOAN D'gP ' ^. LD 21A-50m-4,'60 (A9562sl0)476B General Libr? Univenity of Ca' Berkele YD0393S8 37694 l\^^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY V V ■••» RTMEN WH 'lAKH PLE.A51TF,H' m ANNOUI IN. ^F1A:-.S -Ji- THIS'*'1BRANCH OF THE B^ ?J ') OUR PATRONS; & CO* wiJ-rww^ Km.) ' LAGS m^m^m^sf^assm .;C?>*