son, and a consoling sense of his divine origin, and of his high aud sacred office. To a superficial observer, this unrivalled Madonna displays only the pathetic grandeur of a Niobe; but to the more searching and serious eye, it unfolds the sublime character of a Christian mother, supported in her hour of need by resignation to the will of God, and by the knowledge of a future and a better existence.

"The form and features of the crucified Jesus exhibit that vigorous pencil, and that unrivalled knowledge of the human frame, which at once identify the artist. The countenance beams with a divine expression of benevolence and of resignation to the tortures inflicted by the multitude he came to save and to reform. The forehead, pale and contracted with suffering, the mild and uncomplaining eye, and the racking position of the body and limbs upon the cross, are painted with startling and dreadful accuracy. The swollen arteries, the collapsed and exhausted muscles, the agonizing tension of the bones and sinews, and the combined expression of anguish and vitality diffused over the whole figure, have no parallel in art, and are drawn with a degree of science, freedom, and boldness, far beyond the reach of a copyist.

"Vasari was a man of strong prejudices, and was betrayed by an overweening attachment to his native country and her school of painting, into positive injustive towards the three great apostles of art, Raphael, Titian, and Correggio; but I could not gaze upon the painting I have described without acknowledging the general justice of his eloquent and impassioned praises of Michael Angelo, whom he once described to me, in allusion to a larger design on this subject, as a powerful and heaven-created genius, who descended from the skies to teach all other artists how to delineate that most sublime and pathetic of sacred subjects, the Crucifixion of the Saviour."

The young Tuscan now accosted me, and, with glowing cheeks, expressed his lively sense of the ready kindness with which I had advocated his cause. "You must not, however," he said, "do me the injustice to suppose that I am unconscions of the extraordinary powers of Raphael. In confidence," he added in a lower tone, "the bitter and hostile jealousy existing amongst the Roman artists, renders it impossible to glean any practical knowledge from them, until they are roused into communication by an angry impulse. It is therefore my practice, when associating with painters of talent, to make a preconcerted attack upon their favourite opinions and prejudices, that, in the fiery collision. of argument, I may seize and appropriate the sparks of genius which are thus elicited. I am well acquainted," he continued aloud, "with the admirable little picture of Michael Angelo. How many attempts have been made to copy it, and how uniformly poor the result! His minute and accurate display of human anatomy is the envy and despair of all existing painters. I regret, however, that the figures in this painting are not larger; and that Michael Angelo should have descended from his high ground, to paint on that diminutive scale which has always been the refuge of mediocrity. It is a vicious style of painting, and is perpetuated only by the encouragement of women, and of superficial amateurs, who prefer finish and detail to the more spirited and noble effect of full-sized figures."

I assented to the general truth of his remarks; but observed, that genuine talent and fine drawing would emit lustre from the paunel of APRIL, 1827.

2 K

a miniature; and that Michael Angelo had redeemed himself from any suspicion of a preference for the diminutive, by those children of Enoch, his Sybils and Prophets. After some comments upon the various and conflicting opinions entertained of Buonarotti, I proceeded to infer from his deficiency in colouring, that an artist might rise above all other men in power of intellect and sublimity of conception, and yet fail essentially as a painter.

"And I contend," said a deep and rolling voice, "that an artist of moderate intellect may become not only a successful, but a celebrated painter."

I looked around for the speaker, and saw a man of middle age and majestic person rising from a chair, where he had been partially concealed by the group before him. He extended his right arm as he advanced, and his falling mantle revealed his manly chest and finely formed shoulder. His garb was plain, rustic, and threadbare; his teeth of dazzling whiteness glittered as he spoke, through a black beard of singular magnificence, while his classical features, and eyes of lustrous black, betrayed another Greek; and, if I might judge from his amplitude of brow, and from the powerful and sarcastic expression of his lips, an antagonist more formidable than the brilliant youth I had already encountered.

"The assertion may be startling to professional ears," he continued, "but I contend that a man destitute of original conceptions, of inventive faculties of mind, or whatever you term that light within which raises the individual above the species, will, in painting more easily than in any other of the arts, obtain the applause of the multitude, if, with a good eye, he combines that mechanical readiness and finish which application will bestow upon any one; and judgment enough to devote himself to those subjects only which are most acceptable to the opulent collectors of his time. He must beware of attempting what is termed 'the Sublime' in art, and be contented with a close adherence to nature, and to the Beautiful' in nature, which he may accomplish. And he must take high ground, and boldly maintain that the copyist of nature is the only genuine painter, and that all pictorial flights of imagination originate in eccentric or insane perceptions. And he must ask his opponents, as I now ask you, what is the Sublime?'” So absolute was my new opponent's command of feature, that I could not immediately determine whether this attack was made in seriousness, in jest, or in petulance; but it roused in me a spirit of antagonism, which struck out an immediate reply.

"The Sublime?" I exclaimed. "Is it not that which strikes the mind as thunder strikes the ear; and which flashes out, like a spirit, from every thing which rises above the powers and conceptions of man? Does it not radiate from the lineaments, the form, the bearing, the language, and the actions, of great and extraordinary men? Does it not glow in the Iliad of Homer-in the Prometheus of Eschylus-in the god-like statues of the Greek sculptors-and in that wondrous work of yesterday, the Moses of Michael Angelo? Does it not burst upon us in the battle-call of the trumpet-in the howling whistle of the blast in the roar of the mountain storm-in the plunge everlasting of the cataract-in the surging thunder of the ocean? Does it not thrill and almost suspend our faculties in the silent march of pestilence-in

the deep low muttering which precedes the earthquake-in the magnificence of universal nature-and in the awful mystery which invests the Deity?"

"We shall not arrive at any conclusion," he coolly replied, " until we have clearly defined the nature and limits of each of the arts. At a more convenient season I shall rejoice to meet such a gladiator in the arena, and to try whether our differences are reconcilable by argument. But we must not forget that the sun is setting in splendour, and that we assembled here for a festal purpose. In Rome, the month of October is ever sacred to social enjoyment; and I propose that we abandon the 1 endless labyrinth of argument to follow the joyous mazes of the dance.” This proposal being warmly seconded by the more youthful of the assembled artists, we descended into the sheltered garden, where we found numerous groups of happy Romans, and amongst them the fair wives and mistresses of several of our party. Our arrival was hailed as a signal to renew the dance, and the handsome youth who had so fiercely assailed Michael Angelo, singled out the loveliest of the assembled fair ones. She was a noble specimen of the full and majestic style of beauty peculiar to the Roman women, and which would betray too much of Gothic ancestry, were it not redeemed by the dark lustre of their eyes, and the superlative and classic grandeur of their profiles. The dance was of that lively, bounding, dramatic character, in which the Italians delight; full of imagination and sentiment, and imparting life and eloquence to every limb and every feature. The flying grace of the young Greek, and the slender symmetry of his perfect form, were beautifully contrasted with the imposing air, the Juno stature, the more measured and stately movements of his partner, and every eye was fixed upon them in admiration. In the classical and perfect beauty of their forms and attitudes, they resembled two antique statues just descended from their pedestals, and enjoying their new existence in the circling dance. I could have imagined him a nymph of Diana in male attire, and her the Greek Apollo in the garb of woman; and I was no longer at a loss to explain his antipathy to the skeleton school of Michael Angelo, when I saw the fiery flash of his dark eye subdued into Ionian softness as he gazed upon the Titianesque grace and voluptuous contours of his fair companion.

I discovered, on inquiry from our Sicilian host, that the elder of the two Greeks was named Odysseus; that he was a native of the isle of Scio, and was pensioned and patronised by the Giustiniani family, in consideration of certain literary services. He was employed also by the learned in Italy, and other parts of Europe, to collate and to copy the Greek manuscripts in the Vatican library. The young Apollo, Tolomeo, was his nephew, and under his superintendance while studying the art of painting, to which he was professionally devoted.

As I had declined dancing, I occupied myself in observing the grand and regular features of Odysseus, as he gazed in contemplative enjoyment upon the group of dancers. Viewed more at leisure, his noble exterior lost none of its power over my imagination; and, notwithstanding his evident disposition to depreciate the art and the professors of painting, I felt myself strongly attracted by many indications of a mind of the highest order, and by something indescribably different from all other men which I discerned in him. Nature had be-.

stowed upon him a head of wonderful properties and unequalled grandeur, displaying, in might, majesty, and wisdom, a personification of the Phidian Jupiter. His eyebrows were prominent, strongly marked, and bushy; and a mind well regulated, fearless, and independent, looked out of his clear and well-opened eyes. His person was not unworthy of the lofty brow, and thick ambrosial curls, which crowned its tall proportions. It was cast in the grandest mould of masculine strength and symmetry, and there was in his deportment, and in his tread, that dignity which is the offspring of self-respect and conscious superiority. The sarcastic expression which played around his lips during the heat of discussion, had disappeared; but when he spake, there was occasionally a good-natured irony in his tone and look which led the listener to doubt whether the opinions he expressed were his own, or assumed only to sound the intellect, and draw out the knowledge of those with whom he conversed.

I accosted him, and proposed a walk up the adjacent hill, to view the glories of the sunset. He assented, with a benignant smile, and we proceeded slowly up Monte Testaceo, on the summit of which we found several artists sketching the varied scenery which glowed around them in the golden hues of an Italian sunset. The ever-lovely pyramid of Cestius, the churches of San Paolo, Pietro Montorio, and Stefano Rotondo, the tower of Cecilia Metella, and the Coliseum, rose in a flood of brightness; beyond them glittered romantic villas, vinecovered slopes, and ancient aqueducts; and the lovely distance was crowned by the hills of Tivoli, Frascati, and the Sabine land.

The broad disk of the sun now touched the horizon, and the sublime and still unfinished cupola of St. Peter's threw up its giant head in luminous and imposing magnificence. Its noble outline was well defined, and apparently brought nearer to the eye, by the transparency of the atmosphere; and, as we gazed upon it, our thoughts simultaneously turned upon the colossal mind and daring hand of the architect.

"That cupola," remarked my companion, "well illustrates the gigantic and imperious mind of the man who designed it. It is the wonder of modern architecture, and would have astonished the boldest Greek or Roman builder. The heroic daring, and sublime perseverance of Michael Angelo would have raised him to distinction in any other career; and had France or Spain produced this fiery and ambitious spirit, his choice would have been politics or arms; but, in prostrate and divided Italy, where could his mighty soul scek occupation and renown, but in the pursuit of arts and letters? How few of these ethereal spirits has any age or nation produced! Even Greece, beyond all comparison the most intellectual nation of antiquity, can display but a scanty group of really great men. Lycurgus, Themistocles, Pythagoras, Socrates, Aristoteles, Homer, Eschylus, Sophocles, Aristophanes, Pericles, Demosthenes, Phidias, Apelles. When I have named these, I have included all. Other bright names illumine the pages of her history; but their radiance was a borrowed light, and their strength was the minor power.which the needle steals from the magnet."

The glorious luminary had now sunk in solemn grandeur, and the ruddy tints of evening were rapidly following his career." Were I a landscape painter," exclaimed Odysseus, as we returned to the tavern,

"I would for a year paint only atmospheric tints, and, above all, sunsets. What enchanting and harmonious blending of light and shade, of cloudy forms, and clear azure! It is the poetry of nature, and all the prominent features of landscape shine out with new and tenfold lustre when the god of day descends in a glow of fire."

"The tints of sunset," I replied, "are too evanescent to be accurately fixed in the memory, and from thence slowly transferred to canvas: nor can any artist approach this kind of excellence who does not combine wonderful skill with a creative imagination, and a deep feeling for the beauties of nature."

"True," rejoined Odysseus," the finer features of nature cannot be faithfully copied until they are deeply felt. They must reach the intellect through the feelings, and thus become interwoven with the man. It was by the daily contemplation and study of the naked human form in public baths and gymnastic exercises, that the Greek artists attained such unrivalled excellence in painting and sculpture. The picturesque attitudes, and finely developed figures of the wrestlers, boxers, runners, and throwers of the discus and the spear, at their public games, afforded opportunities of study and improvement which modern artists may look back upon with envy, but will never attain in the present state of society. The warmer clothing required in the variable climate of Italy, and the absence of athletic games in the education of her youth, prevent that perfect development of strength and beauty in the human frame which distinguished the Greeks: and it is to be feared, that any attempt to remedy this defect by the introduction of gymnastic exercises, would be crushed in its infancy by the iron arm of ignorance and prejudice, and by the withering influence of that monkish power, which knows that it exists only by the blindness of the people, and has cunning enough to foresee the prodigious mental impulse which the full expansion of physical power would convey to the vivacious youth of Italy."

On our arrival at the tavern, we found the company reduced to our own party, the dancers reposing from their fatigues, and a garden banquet in preparation. Tolomeo and his lovely partner had been proclaimed the king and queen of the feast. Their dark eyes were sparkling with gaiety, their brows were wreathed with chaplets of laurel, and their lips with involuntary smiles, as they were conducted in regal state to an elevated seat at the end of a long table. The scene of the banquet was a spacious arbour of vine-trellice, and under the spreading branches of a lofty chestnut, but open on one side to admit the amber light and soft effulgence of an Italian moon. Our Sicilian host was a man of ingenuity and taste; and his supper table was decorated by several small fountains, which played their pure waters in fanciful and graceful jets, flashing like drifted silver in the moonbeams, and soothing our senses with the gentle cadence of their soft and ceaseless music. The assembled artists, their lovely wives and friends, were grouped around the table, while Odysseus and I occupied the seat opposite to the regal pair, and now began a scene of social and genuine enjoyment. There are no men so richly fraught with spirituality and gaiety as artists in their hours of leisure. All of them possess much general knowledge unconnected with their pro