of Florence. The subject chosen by Lionardo was the defeat of Nicolo Piccinino, the Milanese general, by the Florentines, in 1440. It has been said of this remarkable picture, and particularly of some group representing a party of cavalry fighting for the possession of a standard: "It was so wonderfully executed, that the horses themselves seemed animated by the same fury as their riders; nor is it possible to describe the variety of the attitudes, the splendour of the dress, and armour of the warriors, nor the incredible skill displayed in the powers and actions of the horses." Michael Angelo's cartoon was taken from an incident that occurred during the siege of Pisa: a number of soldiers were bathing in the Arno, when they were suddenly surprised by the trumpet-call to battle. The hurry, the excitement, the strange variety of action, afforded a favourable opportunity for the exercise of Buonarotti's masterly powers of design. This work was highly applauded by his contemporaries. Benvenuto Cellini says thereof: "These two cartoons stood, one of them in the palace of the Medici, the other in the Pope's hall. So long as they remained there they were the school of the world; and, though the divine Michael Angelo painted the great chapel of the Pope Julius, he never again rose to that pitch of excellence; his genius could not reach the force of those first essays."

To this judgment, however, many would most probably demur, had they the opportunity of forming an opinion; but neither of these two celebrated cartoons is now extant. The preference was given to that of Lionardo da Vinci. Michael Angelo's is said to have been destroyed by Baccio Bandinelli, a sculptor of the time, through jealousy. If so, far from injuring Buonarotti by effacing one monument of his immortal fame, he has only succeeded in stamping his own memory with unutterable infamy. The rivalship between Da Vinci and Michael Angelo continued until the death of the former.

Both

acknowledged the merits of each other, but their mutual pride prevented the existence of any friendly feeling between them: "I was famous before you were born!" exclaimed Lionardo to Buonarotti.

About the close of 1504, or the com

mencement of 1505, our artist was called to Rome, to execute the mausoleum of Pope Julius II. who had formed the strange idea of having a most beautiful monumental tomb built during his lifetime.

The character of Julius II. is one of considerable interest. Energetic and earnest, to a degree which Mr. Carlyle would doubtless admire, he was more like a wild brigand, or a fierce soldier, than the head of the Church, the lowly and simple-hearted "servant of the servants of God." Unskilled in scholastic logic, he was yet possessed of a powerful and restless intellect, and his mind was continually occupied with vast designs, which were carried out on a scale of princely magnificence. Intensely passionate, and impatient of control, he was, nevertheless, the subject of high and generous impulses. Altogether, there was a sturdy vigour, and a downrightness, if we may so express it, in the character of Julius II., which must ever command, in a certain sense, our respect and admiration; and no two persons could possibly be better adapted to each other than the Pope and the artist. One might have imagined that both being of a somewhat arrogant temperament, they would have disagreed much more frequently than they did. But Julius II. had a true appreciation of the majesty of art, and a genuine sentiment of veneration for the transcendent genius of Buonarotti.

To return to the mausoleum. It was for this work that the celebrated statue of Moses breaking the Tables of the Law was executed, and made a design, which would have surpassed every ancient and imperial sepulchre in the world, if it had been completed in its integrity. The tomb was to have had four marble fronts, embellished with forty statues, and several mezzo-relievo, in bronze. The magnificent church of St. Peter's, at Rome, was the result of this grand design; for Buonarotti, having suggested to the Pope that the existing church was too small to allow the beauties of the monument to be seen to advantage, Julius immediately determined to rebuild the edifice on a more extended scale. While Michael Angelo was thus engaged, his rivals were far from idle. The architect Bramante, who was then in the service

of the Pope, endeavoured to injure our sculptor by all the means in his power. So, at last, Julius began to relax in affording the requisite supplies to Buonaroti for continuing his work. The lofty pride of the artist was impatient of the slightest neglect or injustice. He left Rome one night for Florence, leaving orders for the disposal of his property, and a message to the Pope, that, "if his Holiness required his services, he might send and seek him elsewhere."

Five couriers were dispatched after him, but in vain. The Pope then wrote to the Gonfaloniere Soderini, then at the head of the Florentine Government, commanding him to send back Michael Angelo. At last, after some three months, the artist was prevailed upon to return with the Cardinal Soderini, who was to act as his mediator. Julius was at Bologna when Buonarotti arrived. He ordered him to be brought into his presence, and, as soon as he saw him, exclaimed right angrily, "Instead of coming to us and obeying our commands, thou hast waited until we came in search of thee!" Bologna being nearer to Florence than to Rome. Michael Angelo, on his knees, entreated forgiveness. "Holy Father," said he, "my offence has arisen from no ill-nature; I could no longer endure the insults offered to me in the palace of your Holiness." Hereupon, a bishop who happened to be present began to make excuse for Buonaroti: "Poor man! he had only erred through ignorance. Artists were wont, at times, to be too presuming." The Pope, however, interrupted the prelate by a good blow on the shoulders with his staff, exclaiming: "It is thou that art ignorant and presuming to insult him we feel ourselves bound to honour; take thyself out of our sight!" Then, turning to Michael Angelo, he gave him his pardon and benediction, commanding him never to leave him again.

The artist did not continue his work on the tomb just then; and, indeed, it was never completed. He was ordered to make a colossal statue of his Holiness, to stand in front of a church at Bologna. He represented the Pope with one arm outstretched; and the whole figure was so invested with a haughty and indignant character, that Julius, on seeing the model, asked,

smiling, "if he intended him to be blessing or cursing." The sculptor replied, that "he meant to represent him exhorting the people of Bologna to obedience." "And what," returned Julius, "wilt thou place in the other hand?" "A book, may it please your Holiness." "A book, man! " cried the Pope; "put rather a sword; thou well knowest I am no scholar."

Hitherto we have only seen Michael Angelo as a sculptor: we are now about to contemplate him as a painter also. Julius commanded him to undertake the decoration of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (so called because it was erected by Pope Sistus IV.). Our artist desired to be excused, as he was not accustomed to painting. Besides which, Raffaelle was then at the height of his fame, and the frescoes with which he was adorning the Vatican were the admiration of Rome. Buonarotti was, therefore, perhaps averse to risking his reputation by bringing his own untried powers into comparison with those of Raffaelle. But the Pope would have it so, and Michael Angelo was finally compelled to obey. It is said that Julius was influenced by Bramante, who was instigated by unworthy motives in giving this counsel to the Pope. Either imagining that the large sums, which his Holiness was expending in sculpture, would leave less at his command for the purposes of architecture; or hoping that Michael Angelo, who preferred the practice of sculpture to that of painting, would persevere in his refusal, and, by that means, incense the Pope against him; or, finally, that, should he attempt it, it would be the means of making his inferiority to Raffaelle (Bramante's nephew) conspicuous. Such are the motives ascribed to Bramante; but, if he was really actuated by them, he greatly over-reached himself. Impressed with a sense of the vastness of the undertaking, Buonarotti prepared himself for his task. The Sistine Chapel was painted in fresco, a style which requires the utmost dexterity of hand and precision of design, as the colours are incorporated with the plaster on the wall before it is dry, and, therefore, when once done, is not easily to be altered. Buonarotti was obliged to engage some artists to assist him in his work-or, rather, to teach him the mechanical

portion thereof; but their performances fell so far short of the grandeur of his designs, that one day, in a fit of disgust, he effaced all they had done, shut himself up in the chapel, and commenced and continued his work alone. He even mixed and prepared his own colours. When he had advanced to the third compartment, he had the mortification to find his labour frustrated by the bad quality of his materials, in which fermentation had taken place, and, in utter disappointment, he abandoned the undertaking. The Pope, learning the misfortune, sent his own architect, Sangallo, to investigate the cause of the failure, and teach Michael Angelo how to correct it. Thus encouraged, he proceeded, and when the chapel was half completed Julius insisted upon seeing it. He was so struck with admiration and wonder, that he became still more impatient and anxious that the work should be finished. Once inquiring of Michael Angelo when he would complete it, the artist replied, "When I can." "When thou canst ! rejoined the Pope. "Hast thou a mind that I have thee thrown from the scaffold?" It was opened on All Saints' Day, 1512. The roof is divided into twelve compartments, in which the history of the antediluvian world is portrayed. In the first three compartments Michael Angelo has personified the Supreme Being, dividing the light from the darkness, creating the sun and moon, and giving life to Adam. The eleventh subject of his series on the roof is the Deluge; and the twelfth, taken from the history of Noah, showing the remnant of the human race preserved after that awful event.

On

the sides of the chapel is a series of designs representing the persons who compose the genealogy of Christ; and between these compartments are the colossal figures of Prophets and Sibyls.

The dignity of the aspects, the solemn majesty of the eyes, the strange, wild casting of the drapery, and the attitudes of these, all seem to belong to an order of beings who hold converse with the Deity, and whose mouths utter what he inspires. Vasari points out the figure of Isaiah as the one he most admires; who, absorbed in meditation, places his right hand in a book to denote where he had been reading; and, with his left elbow on the book, and his cheek resting on

that hand, he turns round his head without moving his body, on being called by one of the children that are behind him; a figure which, if attentively studied, might fully teach the precepts of a master. Buonarotti was employed on this work about twenty months, and received for it 3,000

crowns.

In 1513 Pope Julius II. died, and was succeeded by Leo X., the son of Lorenzo de Medici. One would have thought that he would have delighted in patronising one whom he had known in his youth, the protege, too, of his father, and, like himself, a Florentine. Leo, however, the graceful and accomplished, preferred the gentle Raffaelle to Michael Angelo, the lofty and unbending. Consequently, during this Pontificate, which lasted ten years, Buonarotti was employed in no work of importance. After the death of Leo X., Clement VII. was elected in 1523. He wished to devote a chapel in the Church of San Lorenzo, at Florence, for the tombs of his ancestors, the Medici. Michael Angelo was the architect, and here are six of his finest statues. One represents Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, the father of Catherine de Medici; a work of extraordinary power and grandeur, known throughout Italy, from its look of awful contemplation, as "Il Pensiero," the thought. The opposite one is his cousin, Giuliano; and there are four colossal statues recumbent, called Night, Morning, Dawn, and Twilight. We would refer the reader to Mr. Rogers' fine description of this chapel, in his " "Italy:

Nor there forget that chamber of the dead, Where the gigantic shapes of Night and Day,

Turn'd into stone, rest everlastingly.

In 1537, Rome was taken by the Constable de Bourbon, and, the Medici being again disgraced, Buonarotti was commissioned by the Republic to fortify Florence against his former employers His skill in engineering was considerable, and he conducted the defence of his native city for nine months. Florence was, at last, delivered up by treachery, and, in consequence, Michael Angelo was obliged to fly. The Pope granted him a generous and free pardon. He withdrew to Rome, and, during his residence there, it is affirmed by some authori

ties that he gave the design for the Bridge of the Rialto.

Pope Paul III. succeeded Clement in 1534. He ordered Buonarotti to finish the adornment of the Sistine, which had been left incomplete; and thus, when nearly sixty years of age, the artist commenced painting, "The Last Judgment' on the wall of the upper end of the chapel. It was nine years before this famous work was done-a picture which, though abounding in faults, is yet, perhaps, the greatest ever painted. It was first exhibited on Christmas-day, 1541. The groups representing the lost are terrible in the extreme: full of fearful energy and wild despair-thoroughly Dantesque in treatment. The artist has lamentably failed in delineating the Redeemer. In the pardoned we behold, says Kugles, "no traces of the glory of Heaven." On the contrary, instead of angelic beauty and holy serenity, we meet merely with the sentiments of "human passion," undignified by the light of celestial love, and the glorified expression of a Divine repose. On the opposite side of the chapel it was designed to depict the fall of the rebel angels, but this was never carried into execution.

A modern writer, in speaking of "The Last Judgment," says: "Michael Angelo has made terror the predominating sentiment of his picture. In the Messiah we see, rather, the inexorable judge, than the merciful Redeemer; he turns to the left, and fulminates his sentence on the wicked, who fall thunder-struck. These groups, precipitated through the air, are seized by demons, who spring from the abyss beneath. This is the finest part of the picture, for there is little among the groups of the righteous, who, on the opposite side, are ascending into Heaven, which expresses the happiness of the blessed. That part in which the dead are seen rising from their graves is admirable. The excellence of the work consists in the unparalleled powers of invention displayed in the various groups, and in the profound knowledge of the human figure, by which the artist was enabled so effectually to embody his conceptions."

Michael Angelo's best productions in painting were the frescoes in the Capella Paolina. After their completion, his wonderful genius was entirely con

secrated to architecture. In 1544, he was appointed chief architect of St. Peter's at Rome, and was thus employed by Paul III. to finish that grand structure commenced by Bramante. He remained in this office during the Pontificates of the three succeeding Popes, Julius III., Pius IV., and Pius V. He undertook the work with great reluctance, and ever refused all payment. Indeed, he regarded it as a solemn act of religion; and, therefore, "for his own honour, and for the honour of God," he declined most resolutely any offer of emolument.

Michael Angelo continued in perfect health until well advanced in age. He died, Feb. 17th, 1562, and was, consequently, 89 at the period of his death. His last will and testament was comprised in these simple words: "I bequeath my soul to God, my body to the earth, and my possessions to my nearest relatives." The remains of this great artist were interred in the Church of the Holy Cross at Florence.

Buonarotti has usually been represented as a man of stern and imperious disposition, of simple and ascetic habits; but his conduct to his faithful servant, and almost friend, Urbino, proves that he was also capable of true and tender affection. Once, while Urbino stood by his side, as he was working, he said: "What wilt thou do, my poor Urbino, when I am gone?" "Alas," replied Urbino, "I shall then have to seek another master!" "Not so!" returned Michael Angelo; "that shall never be!" --at the same time presenting him with 2,000 crowns. It is related that during the last illness of this devoted servant, Buonarotti waited upon him with the most touching tenderness. He was almost inconsolable on the death of Urbino. "My Urbino is dead, " he wrote to the painter Vasari, "to my infinite sorrow. Living, he served me truly; and, in his death, he taught me how to die. I have now no hope remaining but to rejoin him in Paradise!"

Michael Angelo lived in terms of perfect equality with the men of highest rank in Italy. The Grand Duke Cosmo I. always stood with his hat in his hand while conversing with him; and when the artist waited on Julius III., the Pope rose to receive him, and seated him on his right hand.

Perhaps no better proof of Buonarotti's genius can be adduced than the

observation of the French sculptor, Falconet, who, to the utmost, endeavoured to detract from Michael Angelo's merit, without having seen any of his works. When, however, some of his sculptures were brought into France, he exclaimed to a friend: "I have seen Michael Angelo; he is terrible!"

The eloquent author of "Modern Painters" has declared that the object of all art should be, "the glory of God." Thus it may be exalted and refined, and rendered not only subservient to human luxury, to the delight we ever experience in the contemplation of the beautiful, but sanctified to the holiest ends, and sublimed to the noblest purposes. This was evidently Michael Angelo's idea. It is a generally received fact that he prefaced the commencement of any important work by solemn prayer and meditation; and we think that there can be no doubt but that this was always the practice of many of the earliest Italian painters. Would it be too much to suppose that to this they were partly indebted for the sentiment of celestial loveliness and divine purity enshrined in many of their Madonnas ? We can scarcely imagine otherwise than that these creations of seraphic beauty were the work of men consecrated to the worship of all that is great, and glorious, and good; for there should be ever a true and consistent harmony between the daily existence of genius and its productions If the poet's life be not "set to heavenly music," there will most assuredly be a discord in the song. So with the painter and the sculptor.

We shall, in a future paper, offer some reflections on Michael Angelo as a man, sculptor, painter, architect, engineer, and poet, and therein attempt to show his relative position as an artist, and the influence of his life and productions on succeeding generations.

With an expression of the sincerest veneration for his memory, and the deepest admiration of his lofty genius we conclude our present sketch of him, characterised by Ariosto as

Michel, pin'che mortal, angel 'divino.
M. J. E.

man.

LORD PALMERSTON.

It is difficult to write, with fulness and impartiality, the biography of a living His career, and, therefore, the manifestations of his character, being incomplete-the hand of Death not having set the seal of unalterable fact upon his being and doing-the materials of the historian and judge are imperfect. Till the drama is played out, it is difficult to pronounce upon the heroes, or criticise the moral. Besides, the incidents of private life are either unknown or sacred; those little daily traits and habits which are truer indices of the inner man than set, conspicuous performances, are veiled by respect for the sanctities of home; and as these are to the biographer what colour is to the painter, neither a faithful nor a pleasing picture can be made. And, lastly, if the supposed subject of the biography be representative of controverted opinions, or a leader of one of several parties, it is impossible, while he yet lives, for the writer totally to divest himself of prejudice or prepossession. The spirit of partisanship, the warmth of political conviction, possibly the bias of personal attachment or dislike, will insensibly mingle with the narration of facts, and influence the portrayal of character.

In the case of the illustrious individual whose name heads this article all these disadvantageous circumstances are combined, and each in a high degree. Lord Palmerston is one of, and prominent amongst, a class of men-the diplomatists-whose profession is declared by themselves to be necessarily esoteric; their transactions of a nature not to be revealed, or only bit by bit, and at their own discretion, until they have lost all interest but to the political antiquarian. His lordship is also the type of a set, or rather a series, of principles on the great subject of international relations, which have been fiercely contested at every stage of their development, and promise to become more than ever important and critical. As a party leader he is the subject of excitements separate from those of foreign policy; and though, as an individual he is universally admired, the circumstance rather adds to than detracts from the difficulty of forming a sound judgment upon his character and career. What we propose to do