the passage of the Red Sea in safety, and Moses showed his poetic
gifts in a song of triumph. Many years of slavery had taken the spirit
out of the Hebrews, and they needed a wise head and a firm hand to
govern them. Moses had both, and he was, besides, a man of God.
Going apart from them for a season of divine communion on the
mountain, he spent forty days in preparation for a system of
government. On his return he brought with him two tables of stone,
inscribed with the ten great commandments, which are at the foundation
of right character. He had also detailed directions for their daily
conduct, and for their religious ceremonial.
The people for whose good all these plans were made were in the mean
time discouraged by the long absence of their leader. They had no idea
how much he was doing for them, and in their folly they forgot his
teachings, and began to practise the idolatrous customs they had seen
in Egypt. On descending the mountain, Moses found them worshipping the
golden image of a calf. It is not to be wondered at that, as the
historian says,[11] "Moses' anger waxed hot, and he cast the tables out
of his hands, and brake them beneath the mount."
[Footnote 11: Exodus, chapter xxxii. verse 19.]
Again Moses went up into the mount for communion with God, and again
two tables of stone were inscribed with the ten commandments, to
replace those which had been destroyed. Again, also, he was gone forty
days, and this time he was given a mysterious revelation of the
goodness of God.
Thus it was that when he came down the people were afraid to come
near, for[12] "the skin of his face shone," or "put forth beams," as
the expression reads in some Bible translations. In the old Latin
version made by Jerome in the fifth century, and known as the Vulgate,
translated into what is now called the Douay Bible, we read that
"Moses' face was horned." This is why all the old artists, who were
guided by the Vulgate, represented Moses with horns. These horns
became, as it were, symbols of Moses' inspiration as a prophet.
[Footnote 12: Ibid., chapter xxxiv. verse 30. See Revised Version.]
Michelangelo followed the prevailing custom in using these curious
symbols. The long curling beard gives his hero the aspect of a poet.
The tables of stone show him to be a law-giver. But of all the
qualities of this many-sided man seen in the great statue, the most
conspicuous are his qualities of leadership,--the keen glance, the
commanding air, the alert attitude, the determined look. He seems
ready to spring to his feet if occasion demands. We see also something
of his faults, of the impulsive anger which slew the Egyptian, and
dashed in pieces the tables of stone, and of the arrogance which cost
him the privilege of entering Canaan.
He was not permitted to see his labors carried to completion, but on
the borders of Canaan "went up into the mountain of Nebo,... and died
there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And he
buried him in a valley ... over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth
of his sepulchre unto this day."
V
THE HOLY FAMILY
The pictures we have thus far studied in this collection are
reproductions of works of sculpture. This is the art which
Michelangelo loved best. He was, however, a painter also, and in the
later years of his life he was even drawn into architecture. Painting
was the first art he studied, but he soon laid it aside for sculpture,
and after that returned to it from time to time throughout his life.
This picture of the Holy Family is from an oil painting. It shows us a
glimpse of the home life of the child Jesus. We have already seen in
the bas-relief of the Madonna and Child how thoughtful a mood was
sometimes upon the mother and her boy. In this picture they are making
merry together. The mother, seated on the ground, tosses the boy with
her strong arms, for her husband Joseph to catch. She is a beautiful
woman, large, and full of life and vigor. The boy is a healthy, happy
child, with perfect confidence in his mother. He rests his fat little
hands on her head to steady himself.
Joseph, bald and gray, takes the play a little more seriously, as he
gently lifts the boy from the mother's arms. He has a special care for
the child. It was he who was warned by an angel in a dream that it
was dangerous to remain in Judæa. It was he who "took the young child
and his mother by night and departed into Egypt."[13] It was he again
who duly brought them back to their native country when the cruel king
was dead who had threatened the child's life. After the return from
Egypt Joseph and his family settled in the little town of Nazareth,
where he followed the trade of a carpenter.
[Footnote 13: Matthew, chapter ii. verses 13, 14.]
Now Jesus had a cousin, a boy who was not far from the same age. His
name was John, and his mission in life was closely connected with that
of Jesus. He was to grow up a great preacher, and finally to lead
people to Jesus himself. His parents knew before his birth, from an
angelic visitation, that he was to be a prophet. His mother Elizabeth,
and Mary the mother of Jesus, used to talk together, before their
children were born, of the strange future in store for them. We like
to think that the two boys grew up as companions and playmates.
It is this little boy John who is seen in the back of the picture, at
the right, coming up as if to join the child Jesus in his romp. We see
his eager little face, with the long hair blown back from it, just
above the coping stone surrounding the garden inclosure which the Holy
Family occupy. He carries over his left shoulder a slender reed cross,
such as is given him in all the old works of art as a symbol of his
prophetic character.
[Illustration: THE HOLY FAMILY. _Uffizi Gallery, Florence._]
You may say when you look at the picture that this is such a group
as you might see any day in some Tuscan village. The people are indeed
very plainly of the peasant class, and the artist did not go far out
of his way to find his figures. Perhaps he thought this was after all
the best way to show that the Holy Family was not unlike other
families in enjoying the simple pleasures of home life. We may feel a
closer sense of kinship with them on that account.
In studying the artistic qualities of this picture we have to remember
that Michelangelo was more of a sculptor than a painter, and that he
went to work upon a painting with the same methods he used in marble.
The central figures are grouped in a solid mass as if for a
bas-relief, as we may see by comparing this illustration with that of
the Madonna and Child. The mother's arms are so "modelled," to use a
critical term, that they seem to start out from the canvas "in the
round," just as if cut from marble. The folds of her dress, as well as
those of Joseph's garment, are arranged in the long beautiful lines
artists call "sculpturesque."
The sculptor's methods are also plainly seen in the peculiarity of his
background. In a picture of this kind most painters would have painted
there a landscape, but Michelangelo did nothing of the kind. Instead
there is a semicircular parapet upon which five slender unclothed
youths are playing together. Three sit upon the wall and two lean
against it.
The figures bear no relation to the story of the picture. They are
introduced merely for the sake of decoration. To Michelangelo there
was nothing so beautiful in decoration as the human form. The lines
made by different positions of the body trace patterns more beautiful,
he thought, than any arabesques. The Greeks had the same idea when
they decorated the pediments of their temples with bas-reliefs of nude
figures. Applying this principle of sculpture to his painting,
Michelangelo arranged these boys so that their slender limbs
intertwine in graceful patterns, making a decorative background to
fill in the picture. The lightness and delicacy of the design heighten
the effect of solidity in the figures of the foreground, giving them
the prominence of figures in relief.
VI
THE PIETÀ
In the busy years of Christ's ministry we do not read of his often
being with his mother Mary. He was going about the country preaching
and healing, and gave himself wholly to his mission. Yet we know that
the love between mother and son was constant and unchanging. From
beginning to end she always had confidence in his power, and his
tender care for her was among his last thoughts.
On the dreadful day of the Crucifixion, the mother was found standing
by the cross, with her sister and Mary Magdalene. "When Jesus
therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved
[that is, St. John], he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour
that disciple took her unto his own home."[14]
[Footnote 14: John, chapter xix. verses 26, 27.]
We can imagine the mother's anguish in seeing her son suffer this
cruel and ignominious death. He had lived only to do good, and now he
was dying an innocent sacrifice to his enemies. At such a moment the
mother might truly feel that a sword was piercing her soul, as the old
man Simeon[15] had once prophesied of her, many years before.
[Footnote 15: Luke, chapter ii. verse 35.]
"Wearied was her heart with grieving,
Worn her breast with sorrow heaving,
Through her soul the sword had passed.
"Ah! how sad and broken-hearted
Was that blessed mother, parted
From the God-begotten One!
"How her loving heart did languish
When she saw the mortal anguish
Which o'erwhelmed her peerless Son."[16]
[Footnote 16: From _Stabat Mater_.]
Time passed, and Jesus now being dead, his friends were permitted by
the governor to remove him from the cross. Joseph of Arimathea took
the lead, as he was to lay the body in a new sepulchre recently made
in his garden. Nicodemus was also there, bringing linen and spices for
the burial, and the loving women lingered to see these preparations.
We can imagine how they might all stand aside to make room for the
mother Mary. Perhaps, indeed, they would withdraw a little way to
leave her for a moment alone with her son. The years seem to melt
away, and again she gathers him in her lap as when he was a babe. All
the motherly tenderness which she has had long pent up in her heart
now overflows. If she has sometimes felt a little lonely that in his
manhood he no longer needed her care, she forgets it now. He is still
her child.
The marble group by Michelangelo interprets such a moment for us. The
Italians call the subject the Pietà, which means compassion, but the
name scarcely expresses all the emotions of the mother. She seems
as strong and young as when she brooded over her babe in the Bethlehem
manger. "Purity enjoys eternal youth" was the sculptor's explanation
to those who objected.
[Illustration: THE PIETÀ _St. Peter's, Rome_]
Across her capacious, motherly lap lies the slender, youthful figure
of the dead Christ. The head falls back, and the limbs are relaxed in
death. Suffering has left no trace on his face. The nail prints in
hands and feet, and the scar in the side, are the only signs of his
crucifixion. The delicately moulded body is beautiful in repose.
The mother seems to find mysterious comfort in gazing upon her son.
Perhaps his death has opened her eyes to the meaning of his life. If
this is so, she cannot grieve. He has finished the work given him to
do, and death is the beginning of immortality. So sorrow gives place
to resignation. She is again the proud mother. The fond hopes with
which she watched his childhood have been more than fulfilled. She
extends her hand in a gesture which seems to say, "Behold and see."
It is said that certain Lombards, passing through the church where the
Pietà stood, ascribed the work to a Milanese sculptor named Cristoforo
Solari. Michelangelo, having overheard them, shut himself up in the
chapel, and chiselled his name upon the girdle which crosses the
Madonna's breast and supports her flowing garments. His name is not
found on any of his other works, and we can understand why he felt
proud of such a masterpiece. Though made when on the very threshold of
his career, it was never surpassed even in his later years. Some
other artist afterwards designed the two little bronze cherubs who
hold a crown over the Madonna's head. They are quite out of harmony
with the impressive dignity of the figures below.
Michelangelo's early love of Greek sculpture taught him many lessons,
which were worked out in this group. It has, first of all, that
perfect repose which was the leading trait in classic art. There is
nothing strained or violent in the positions. Besides this, the
figures are so arranged that on all sides, as in a Greek statue, the
lines are beautiful and harmonious.
But the subject itself is one which would have been too sad for the
pleasure-loving Greek. To the pagan the thought of death was something
to be avoided. Michelangelo's statue teaches the highest lesson of
religious faith,--the beauty of resigned sorrow and the sublimity of
sacrificing love.
VII
CHRIST TRIUMPHANT
(_Cristo Risorto_)
The character of Christ is so many-sided that when trying to fancy how
he looked while he lived in the world, everyone has probably a
different thought uppermost. The business man and the lawyer may
imagine the keen, searching glance which he turned upon those who
tried to entangle him with hard questions. A loving woman thinks
rather of the compassionate look with which he greeted the sisters of
Lazarus when they came to tell him that their brother was dead. The
physician may wonder how he looked when he spoke the commanding words
to those whom he healed.
Others dwell upon his sufferings as the Man of Sorrows, and often
think how sad he looked when he referred to the disciple who should
betray him. Lovers of nature like to imagine the look of pleasure on
his face in seeing the lilies growing in the field, or the expression
of eager inquiry with which he asked the fishermen what luck they had
had. Every boy and girl likes best to think of him smiling upon the
children, whom he called to him and took in his arms.
Now when an artist makes an ideal representation of Christ, he tries
to show us as many as possible of these elements of character combined
in one figure. So we may test the success of Michelangelo's statue of
Christ by searching out these various elements in it. We must also
know what incident the artist had in mind of which the work is an
illustration, so to speak.
The statue is called in Italian _Cristo Risorto_, that is, Christ
Risen or Triumphant, because the reference is to a circumstance not
recorded of his earthly career, but belonging to the time following
his resurrection. It is connected with a story told by St. Ambrose
about the apostle Peter. St. Peter, it is believed, spent the latter
part of his life in Rome, where the cruel emperor, Nero, was doing his
best to exterminate the Christians.
"After the burning of Rome, Nero threw upon the Christians the
accusation of having fired the city. This was the origin of the first
persecution, in which many perished by terrible and hitherto
unheard-of deaths. The Christian converts besought Peter not to expose
his life, which was dear and necessary to the well-being of all; and
at length he consented to depart from Rome. But as he fled along the
Appian Way, about two miles from the gates, he was met by a vision of
our Saviour, travelling towards the city. Struck with amazement, he
exclaimed, 'Lord! whither goest thou?' (_Domine, quo vadis?_) to which
the Saviour, looking upon him with a mild sadness, replied, 'I go to
Rome to be crucified a second time,' and vanished. Peter, taking
this for a sign that he was to submit himself to the sufferings
prepared for him, immediately turned back, and reëntered the city."[17]
[Footnote 17: From Mrs. Jameson's _Sacred and Legendary Art_, pages
200, 201.]
[Illustration: CHRIST TRIUMPHANT. _Church of S. Maria sopra Minerva,
Rome._]
It is this visionary figure of the Christ, appearing and disappearing
before the eyes of Peter, that Michelangelo represents in the statue.
He carries a cross not large enough for an actual crucifixion, as that
would be out of place here, but tall enough to show its real purpose.
He has also the long reed and the sponge which the soldier used to
give him a drink of vinegar and gall when he thirsted on the cross. A
bit of rope is a reminder of the scourging given him by the governor.
All these things he carries with him to Rome for a fresh martyrdom. It
is as if in walking along the way he suddenly meets Peter, and, at the
apostle's astonished question, he pauses, leaning a moment on the
cross, as he turns gently to reply.
Now as this is the Christ risen, or triumphant, the Christ who has
conquered death and the grave, Michelangelo wanted to do all he could
to make a noble-looking figure. The face is of the handsome type, with
regular features, which the Italians like to give to their ideal of
Christ. The expression of reproach is so gentle that one deserving
rebuke may well feel ashamed before it.
The sorrow in the face is such as Jesus might have shown as he turned
to Judas at the Last Supper. The gentleness in it is of the quality so
attractive to children. There is, too, something of the sympathetic
element in it which Mary and Martha found.
The countenance is not without intellectuality, though it scarcely
shows the keenness which the lawyers found it hard to outwit. It has
rather the refinement of a lover of all that is beautiful. Nor is
there much in expression or attitude to suggest the more commanding
qualities of Jesus. These stronger elements the statue seems to lack.
It is rather puzzling to one who is trying to form standards of taste
to learn that critics are divided in their opinion about this statue.
It is, therefore, well to know that Michelangelo is not wholly
responsible for the work as we now see it. Though he designed and
began it, he left it to some unskilful apprentices to finish. The
effect of the lines is injured by the bronze drapery which was added
later. A bronze sandal has also been put on the right foot to protect
it, as it had become much worn by kisses.
In criticising a statue one must always remember that it is best seen
in the surroundings for which it is designed. It is said, even by one
who does not greatly admire Michelangelo's Christ, that in the dim
light of the church where it stands, "it diffuses a grace and
sweetness which no reproduction renders."[18]
[Footnote 18: Symonds, in _Life of Michelangelo Buonarotti_.]
VIII
THE CREATION OF MAN
Science has long been trying to solve the problem of the origin of the
human race. Great books are published by learned men to explain how
the being called man came to be what he is. But centuries before the
beginnings of science a wonderful poem was written on the same subject
of the creation. This poem is called Genesis, that is, the Birth or
Origin of things, and it forms a part of the first book of our Bible.
Ever since it was written it has been one of the sacred books of many
people.
This story of creation was once the favorite subject of artists. In
the period before the invention of printing, people depended for their
instruction upon pictures about as much as we now do upon books.
Painters sometimes covered the walls and ceiling of churches with
illustrations of the book of Genesis, transforming them into huge
picture-books, from which the worshippers could learn the Bible
stories which they were unable to read in books.
Michelangelo was one of the last Italian painters to do this, and he
profited by all the work that had been done before to make the
grandest series of Genesis illustrations ever produced. It is from
this series that our illustration is taken, representing the subject
of the Creation of Man. The painter did not try to follow the text
very literally. In the book of Genesis we read:[19]--
[Footnote 19: Genesis, chapter i verses 26-27; chapter ii verse 7.]
"And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and
let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of
the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every
creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he
him.... And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and
breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living
soul."
Michelangelo takes these words, and expresses, in his own way, the
supreme creative moment when "man became a living soul."
The man Adam lies on a jutting promontory of the newly made land.
Though his body is formed, he lacks as yet the inner force to use it;
he is not yet alive. The Creator is borne along on a swirling cloud of
cherubs, moving forward through space like a rushing mighty wind.
Perhaps the painter was thinking of the psalmist's beautiful
description of God's coming:[20] "He rode upon a cherub, and did fly:
yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind."
[Footnote 20: Psalm xviii, verse 10.]
[Illustration: THE CREATION OF MAN. _Sistine Chapel, Rome._]
In His fatherly face is expressed the good purpose to create a son "in
his own image." The cherubic host accompanying him are full of joy
and awe. We are reminded of that time of which the poet Milton
wrote,[21] when
"All
The multitude of angels, with a shout
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
As from blest voices, uttering joy,--Heaven rung
With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled
The eternal regions."
[Footnote 21: _Paradise Lost_, book iii. lines 344-349.]
The sign of the Almighty's creative power is the outstretched arm
extended towards Adam with a superb gesture of command. As if in
answer to the divine summons, the lifeless figure begins to stir,
rising slowly to a sitting posture. The face turns towards the source
of life as the flower turns to the sun. The eyes are lifted to the
Creator's with a wistful yearning. It is the look we sometimes see in
the eyes of a woodland creature appealing for mercy. It is such a look
as might belong to that imaginary being of the Greek mythology, the
faun, half beast, half human. Thus Adam, still but half created,
begins to feel the thrill of life in his members, and is aroused to
action. He lifts his hand to meet the Creator's outstretched finger.
The current of life is established, the vital spark is communicated,
and in another moment Adam will rise in his full dignity as a human
soul.
This picture was painted long before there was any knowledge of
electricity, of electric sparks, and electric currents. Yet, if we did
not know otherwise, we might fancy that Michelangelo had some of
these wonderful ideas of modern science in mind, as the symbols of the
great thoughts he was trying to express.
The picture suggests to our latter day scientific imagination that
God's currents of power move as silently, as swiftly, as invisibly and
mysteriously as the currents of electricity. The painter meant to show
that the work of creation was not a mechanical effort of the Almighty,
but that with him a gesture, a word, even a thought, brings something
into being.
The series of which this picture forms a part is painted in fresco on
the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, in the Pope's palace of the
Vatican, Rome. To break up the monotony of the long plain surface he
had to decorate, the painter divided the strip of space in the centre
into nine compartments. These are separated from each other by a
painted architectural framework, so cunningly represented that it
seems to project from the ceiling like a solid structure of beams.
Our illustration shows a portion of the simulated framework which
incloses the picture. On what appears to be a pedestal at each corner
is a seated figure representing a statue. One is a beautiful youth
with a horn of plenty, and the other is a faun-like creature capering
gayly. The purpose of these figures is decorative, like those in the
background of the Holy Family.
IX
JEREMIAH
Michelangelo's decoration of the Sistine Chapel ceiling did not stop
with the series of panels running along the flat space in the centre.
On either side, where the ceiling arches to meet the side walls, he
painted a row of figures, which seem to be seated in sculptured
niches. There are twelve of these figures in all, and seven of them
are Hebrew prophets.