so that he was sent by the Pope, Sixtus IV., to assist in the decoration of the Sistine chapel. Before going to Rome, however, he painted at S. Gemignano in the oratory of S. Giovanni. The visit to Rome must have been about 1484, but how long it lasted, and whether it was a single visit or was repeated, is not ascertained. As, however, he seems, from the record of the work on the Palazzo Pubblico at Florence, to have drawn pay for every year from 1483 to 1485, inclusive, he could hardly have been away continuously for a year; and as in that interval he painted a second fresco for the Sistine, now destroyed, and decorated a chapel for the Tornabuoni family in Sta. Maria sopra Minerva in Rome, also destroyed, he probably made various visits as the state of the work he happened to be engaged on permitted. The frescos in Rome having been completed, as we must conclude, about 1484, he next undertook the decoration of the chapel of Sta. Fina at S. Gemignano, in which, as probably in most or all of his painting of this period, he employed the services of his brother-in-law, Sebastiano Mainardi, whose hand the discrimination of Cavalcaselle detects through the most important passages of it. Without some such coöperation it would indeed have been impossible for any painter to have executed so many important works as Ghirlandaio crowded into his short life. He repeated in S. Marco of Florence the subject of his "Last Supper" in the Ognissanti, of which Cavalcaselle says:

Less favorable in its impression on the spectator is the "Last Supper" in the convent of S. Marco at Florence, where Ghirlandaio, repeating the arrangement carried out at Ognissanti, gives evidence of his progress in the production of relief, but less happily renders

animation and movement. Yet the dim tone and roughness of surface caused by time and damp may have a part in diminishing the sympathy that might otherwise be felt for this work.

I cannot in all cases accept so readily the esthetic judgments of Cavalcaselle as his technical opinions, but in general it can hardly be admitted that the damages of time can affect cur sympathy with a work of art; and I am not disposed to accept with less reserve the great expert's estimate of the relative importance of the Sassetti chapel frescos. The condition, however, in which they are now seen, much covered with dust and otherwise obscured, may make my judgment less favorable than it might be if the conditions for their study were as satisfactory as is the case in the choir of Sta. Maria Novella. The former work has been for some time made difficult VOL. XLII.-96.

of access by the restorations in progress in the church of the Santissima Trinità. Of these subjects Cavalcaselle says:

Seen from the necessary distance, the Sassetti chapel not only shows a complete unity of decoration, but charms beyond all other works hitherto carried out by Ghirlandaio, because, in addition to the known features of his style, a greater harmony of color is apparent, and because the just value of tones in contrast creates an impression almost equal to that produced in the same sense by the frescos of Masaccio. A surprising reality is represented, with the breadth and grandeur attained by Masaccio and Raphael, in the portrait of Sassetti, whose form and bald head are not more finely given than those of his wife [sic]. The treatment in the former is such that Ghirlandaio appears to surpass himself in the handling of the impasto, and disdains the usual minuteness of stippling. The simple flow of a lake-red drapery of solid stuff, the manly frame and fleshy hands, are nature itself.

The value of the chapel thus considered as an integral work in which the distinct compositions are only parts must be estimated differently from that of the compositions themselves. The intellectual and artistic power of the man are shown to much greater advantage in a work of this complexity carried out successfully than they could be in an individual picture, no matter how remarkable. In this, which may be considered a different type of genius from the simply artistic type as we have seen it in Bellini or Masaccio, there is something of the architect, and Ghirlandaio has shown the same quality in a similar combination in the Palazzo Pubblico of Florence, of which Cavalcaselle says: "Florentine artists have seldom been more happy in laying out architectural space than Ghirlandaio in this instance- the whole is distributed with such excellence of propor tion, adorned with such taste, and realized with such a successful application of perspective, that nothing remains to be desired." But the estimate of the artist as a painter of a story, and as a decorator and architectural composer, must not be confounded. In the latter capacity he may be classed with Giotto perhaps, in the class at least, if not at the height; but in the former I cannot agree with some of the critics who have studied Ghirlandaio.

The execution of this great work was followed by the commission to paint the choir of Sta. Maria Novella, by his treatment of which he will probably be finally judged as a painter. The choir had been painted by Orcagna, but the rain filtering in from the roof had so damaged the frescos that "many enlightened citizens of Florence desired either to have these interesting works renewed or to see the choir adorned anew by some painter worthy of the

task. But the family of the Ricci, who had a proprietary right in this part of the church, which was considered as their chapel, were not only unwilling to incur the cost themselves, but even refused to allow others to do it for them, fearing lest their coats-of-arms and shields should be removed and their hereditary claims to the choir (the patronage of it, as Vasari states, i. e., the nomination of the attendant priests) should be subsequently disputed." The difficulty was finally adjusted by the Tornabuoni, who promised the Ricci that their arms should be put in the most honorable part of the choir, and that they should be recompensed in some other way. And to this effect a "contract and instrument very rigorous," as Vasari has it, was drawn up, by which Giovanni Tornabuoni engaged Ghirlandaio to paint the chapel anew, "with the same stories which had been there before," and Tornabuoni was to pay 1000 golden florins (not 1200, as is said by Vasari), and in case of their giving complete satisfaction the painter was to receive a bonus of 200 more. The work was done in four years, according again to the historian; but he has given the date of finishing in place of that of commencing-that of the year after he had painted the fresco at the Sistine chapel, 1485-and Vasari says that he never stopped till the work was complete. Tornabuoni seems to have been a slippery customer; for he not only, while avowing his complete satisfaction with the decoration of the church, begged to be released from the payment of the bonus (which Ghirlandaio," who esteemed glory and honor above riches," readily forgave), but he evaded his promise to the Ricci, putting their arms in an honorable place, it is true, for they were painted on the frontispiece of the tabernacle of the sacrament, but under an arch and in an obscure position and light, while he had his own arms and those of other branches of his family put on the pilasters and in other most prominent positions. Vasari proceeds, "And the fine part of the affair was on the opening of the chapel, because the Ricci, seeking with much clamor their arms and not finding them, went to the magistrate of the Eight with the contract. Whereupon the Tornabuoni showed that they had been placed in the most evident and honorable place in the chapel, and although the others exclaimed that they could

1 NOTE FROM MILANESI: In the register of the deceased brothers of the Company of St. Paul there is this mention of him: "Domenico, son of Thomas, son of Corrado Bigordi, painter, called the Grillandaio, died Saturday morning, the 11th of January, 1493, of pestilential fever, according to the report, because he died in four days; and those who had charge of the pestilence desired that the dead body should not be visited and that it should not be buried in the daytime. They buried him Saturday night between twenty-four [i. e., the hour of sunset] and one o'clock; and may God forgive them.

not be seen, it was said to them that they were in the wrong, and that the arms having been put in so honorable place as the neighborhood of the most holy Sacrament they ought to be satisfied; and so it was settled by that magistrate that the matter must stand as it does at present." It is almost impossible to determine the amount of credit to be given respectively to Ghirlandaio and to his brother David and his brother-in-law Mainardi, for they worked in such complete harmony and persistency that Domenico may almost be said never to have been alone in his work. Besides these his many pupils contributed to swell the immense amount of painting which is credited to him by the chroniclers, but of which of course the greatest part was done by his assistants, the cartoons being probably his own in all cases, as was the practice in the schools. His activity seems to have abated in the last years of his existence, the actual date of his death being March 25 (1493), 1494.1

Ghirlandaio does not appear to have painted after 1491, and Vasari says that he devoted his time in the following years to mosaic. He was to have painted an altar-piece for the Franciscans of Falco, but it was done by Filippino; and Vasari tells also of a "Visitation," now in the Louvre, which was originally ordered for the church of Cestello, having been left unfinished. He went to Siena and Pisa for the mosaic work, but the story of Vasari that he was to have 20,000 ducats from Lorenzo dei Medici appears to be a fiction, for the documents show that not Lorenzo but Massaino di Goro Massaini was the patron who commissioned the work, and for a much smaller sum than that mentioned, but how much Milanesi does not inform us. That he went to Pisa at that time is evident, and that he was ill there; for Tornabuoni sent him a hundred florins on account of his being ill and in need. There is no clear evidence of his having done anything after 1491. A single mosaic known to be his is that over the north side door of the Duomo of Florence, and the probability is that in the mosaics which were executed under his influence the work was really done by his brother David, who is ascertained to have worked on the Duomo of Orvieto and that of Siena in 1492-93. Ghirlandaio is said never to have employed oils, but many pictures were sent It was a great loss [or perhaps the author of the note would have said "great shame," alluding to the obscure burial without the honors due to the dead, the words employed being grandissimo danno], because he was a man highly esteemed for all his qualities, and there was great general mourning." The date 1493, by the change of the beginning of the year from the 25th of March to the Ist of January which took place in 1750, becomes 1494. This change has, of course, nothing to do with the change of style from Greek to Gregorian of twelve days, commonly known as the change from old to new style.

out from his bottega painted in tempera, a process which suited far better the system of procedure to which he in common with the masters of his time adhered, namely, that of preparing a cartoon and then passing it over to the assistants to be traced and painted according to established practice, all the steps being prescribed, the qualities of execution being the same with all the pupils, and the color being almost conventional with all the men of the time. These various processes are laid down in the book of Cennini, who describes them as the settled practice of "good fresco" and tempera from the time of Giotto. Of the tempera pictures from the bottega of Ghirlandaio, that which is the most easily to be seen and studied, and is at the same time considered by the admirers of Ghirlandaio the best, is the" Adoration of the Magi" at the Lying-in Asylum of Florence known as the "Innocenti," which is not only far more brilliant in color than any other of the frescos of the school, but seems to be more directly the production of the master himself. He is reported to have said to his assistants that they were to refuse no commission, not even for the hoops by which the women carried their baskets (cerchi da paniere di donne) — an expression which Crowe, who is responsible for the English of the English edition of Cavalcaselle, translates "lady's petticoat panniers," not knowing that the practice of wearing hoops under the petticoats was centuries later than Ghirlandaio, and not stopping to reflect that it would have been absurd to ornament with painting hoops so worn even if they had been in fashion. This detail must not be taken to indicate avarice, but good nature and the desire to satisfy all demands on his art; for other incidents show that Ghirlandaio was not avaricious, as in his release of Tornabuoni from the bonus for the work at Sta. Maria Novella. Nor was he more inclined to exalt himself. He is reported by Vasari to have said to his brother David that he desired him to take charge of all the business details, so that he himself might be left free to devote himself to his work; "for now that I have begun to understand the manner of this art it vexes me that I cannot be commissioned to paint the entire circuit of the walls of Florence"-notwithstanding which we know that David was one of his most active assistants in the actual painting.

In estimating the art of Ghirlandaio, I feel a certain diffidence in putting my opinion beside those of Burton and Cavalcaselle, the latter of whom considers him the greatest of the painters of the fifteenth century. If we take art simply from the side of its technical qualities, the management of the broad surfaces of fresco, and the facility of composition involved in the decoration of the chapels in Florence, with the

precision of execution and certainty of his drawing, such an estimate of his relative rank as that of Cavalcaselle might be accepted without much hesitation, for as a composer of great stories, as the sacred subjects were then called, he had no superior between Giotto and Raphael. But when Cavalcaselle says, "The spectator's memory involuntarily reverts to the false and capricious extravagance of Filippino, the overcharged richness of Botticelli," and contrasts their efforts with "the purity exhibited here by Ghirlandaio," I am obliged to dissent from the standard of art implied, and I quote the remainder of the sentence to demonstrate what I consider the mistaken estimate of the Italian critic: "The whole is distributed with such excellence of proportion, adorned with such taste, and realized with such a successful application of linear perspective, that nothing remains to be desired." All this being admitted proves only that Ghirlandaio was a great master, perhaps a greater master of the learned side of the art of painting-of its academical qualities, for which a scientific acumen is indispensable—than were Filippino and Botticelli; but in the true passion of art, in that which lies beyond and behind technic and a simply correct eye, both those painters were superior to him, in common with many others of the long line from Giotto to Michelangelo. He had profited well by all the art before him and all that was being done around him, and his system, cold, intellectual, and correct, merits in the sense in which it can be applied to such work the epithet of masterly; but the unexpected discoveries, the enchanting underthoughts, the inspiring imaginative felicities of the others, he had not. He was not in the true sense of the word an imaginative painter, nor does his power touch the heart any more than his color the musical sense. His portraiture is not so affectionate or complete as that of Gozzoli, nor has he the tender expression of Mantegna; his work is rather composition than invention, great and harmonious and impressive in line and the distribution of masses, but simply learned.

The comparison of his "Death of St. Francis" in the Sassetti chapel with that of Giotto in Sta. Croce will illustrate what I mean more clearly than can any abstract comparisons. It will do so the better from the fact that Ghirlandaio's subject is borrowed in the main from Giotto. The general distribution of the groups and most of the figures are the same, and the composition is one of the noblest of the master in both cases. But in that of the pioneer of modern art there is a dramatic concentration, an imaginative unity which is wholly lacking in the later work. The additions are almost without exception variations which weaken the impression. In Giotto

the soul of the saint is seen carried away into the blue heavens above, and the only spectator who is not absorbed in the pathetic and awe-inspiring flitting of the soul of their master is one who has his spiritual vision open to see the apotheosis; all the others are intent on the face of the saint-one closely watching the face with a look of rapture in sympathy with the serenity of the dead, and three behind him awe-struck apparently by the glory; one at either hand and foot kissing the stigmata in them, while the abbot looks at the wound in the side as if to assure himself that it was there; but all, even the stolid attendants, three at the head to read the prayer, and three at the foot to hold the cross and tapers, all are intent on the face of the saint. In the composition of Ghirlandaio the general disposition is the same; the three at the head of the couch are the same except that the central one has become a bishop or abbot, but the three at the foot are looking all ways; the friar who is watching the face of the dead regards it not with Giotto's look of rapt wonder, but approaches his head closely with an expression which it is not too much to call a grin. Yet this grin, but for a knitting of the brows, as if of pain, in the monk who holds and kisses St. Francis's left hand, is the only expression of any kind to be found in the whole picture; the abbot who in Giotto's picture is looking at the wound in the side as if he meant to see it, is a layman, who from the further side of the bed puts his hand over the body and touches its side with an action of no significance whatever, unless it be that he is supposed to be a doctor feeling if the heart still beats; Giotto's monk who kisses the right foot has become a page in the costume of Ghirlandaio's time, who stands behind the attendants at the foot of the bed, so that the feet may be seen by the spectator, and all the other assistants are disposed in various and studied attitudes, with utter disregard of the dramatic unity of the subject, but with constant study of the effect of

1 The engraving of this subject by Mr. Cole in THE CENTURY for January, 1889, is so subtle even in its fidelity to the apparently rude execution of Giotto that it may be studied with the same confidence as the original. There is not a shade of expression on the faces of the actors in the scene which is not rendered with absolute truth. The rigidity of the draperies, the insistence on the expression in some of the faces of the attendants, and the naïveté of the effect of the

the lines of the composition. While in the earlier picture the figures are all those of ecclesiastics, in that of Ghirlandaio half, nearly, are laymen, introduced probably to allow the painter to flatter his patrons by immortalizing their portraits. Giotto's open sky and its ecstatic vision of the flying soul and its attendant angels has given place to an elaborate architectural background of renaissance structure. Not only is the composition in all its main features borrowed directly from Giotto (which is however, per se, no fault in Ghirlandaio, for this was in accord with the recognized practice of the time). but the number of figures is the same, showing deliberate adaptation. In almost every case, however, the significance of the figure is lostignored so completely as to show that the dramatic insight of Giotto was thrown away on the later painter. All the greater refinements of grouping and line, all the added subtlety of naturalistic knowledge, all the higher mastery in technic are only so many more proofs that the copyist was insensible to the finest and rarest qualities of his original. Instead of the dramatic intensity of Giotto, he has given us only a masterly and refined pose plastique.1

It is thus restricted, then, that we must accept the eulogiums of the contemporaries of Ghirlandaio and of his modern admirers, that as master of the academic qualities of the art of painting he surpassed all his predecessors and contemporaries, and even his successors, until Raphael. He was the master of Michelangelo; but I am disposed to doubt if he exerted any great amount of influence on his development, and, if he did, whether it was not merely to strengthen the scientific element already in excess in the character of his pupil. In all that is spontaneous, incommunicable, inexplicable in art; in what is the gift of the good fairy at birth, and which education may stifle or foster but cannot impart, Ghirlandaio was the inferior of many others in that greatest of all epochs of painting.

W. J. Stillman.

whole, are rendered with unswerving conscience. Those who wish to follow out the parallel I have drawn between the identical motive in the hands of the greatest masters in their respective veins in the development of Italian art can do so by a comparison with the photograph of Ghirlandaio's St. Francis, by Alinari of Florence, which shows the composition in the chapel of Sta. Maria Novella much more clearly than it can be seen in the original.

JAMES R. CARNAHAN, JOHN COBURN,

LEW. WALLACE, JAMES L. MITCHELL,

HE April CENTURY contained an article entitled "Cold Cheer at Camp Morton," written by John A. Wyeth, which charged that the rebel prisoners confined in Camp Morton, at Indianapolis, during the war were starved and subjected to other inhuman treatment or neglect. It has long been a matter of pride to the people of Indiana that they gave freely of their time and goods to relieve the distresses of the half-clad and halffamished prisoners who were sent to Indianapolis for safe keeping during the Rebellion. They have asked no thanks for their humanitarian efforts, but they have the right, I think, to claim exemption from such acts of ingratitude as take a publicly defamatory form.

Mr. Wyeth's paper begins with a misstatement, viz., that the writer had been guarded after capture by a company under the command of his cousin Thomas W. Smith, of Jacksonville, Illinois (an officer who by the way had resigned sixteen months before that time), and ends with the libelous assertion that the 1763 deaths which occurred in Camp Morton were due largely to starvation and other inhuman treatment. If we may accept a statement made by an uncle of Mr. Wyeth, and now preserved in the files of the War Department, Wyeth, when confined in Camp Morton, was "not quite eighteen years old " and " rather delicate naturally." Young Wyeth had three aunts residing

I. N. WALKER, Department Commander.

at Jacksonville, Illinois, one of whom visited him at Camp Morton. Wyeth's uncle, Captain J. M. Allen, Provost Marshal of the Fifth District of Illinois, requested the CommissaryGeneral of Prisoners that the boy "be removed to his care, or to the prison at Rock Island, which was near his home." But he adds: "If he cannot be removed as I suggest, I would be glad to have him kept and not exchanged. The dangers of the field service are much more than those of the camp." If prisoners were being starved, frozen, or cruelly maltreated at Camp Morton, it is not likely that this last request would have been made, particularly as young Wyeth would have disclosed such treatment to his aunt.

Young Wyeth seemed to forget that he was a prisoner of war, and was apparently much surprised to find that Camp Morton was not a hotel upholstered in modern style. With his long catalogue of inconveniences-floorless barracks, hard beds, lack of complete bathing appliances with hot and cold water attachments- I have nothing to do. These are the implied incidents of war, whether in the field or in the prison, and are not feared by those who think they are fighting for a principle, and should be kept in view in reading Mr. Wyeth's article. But against his charges of starvation and cruelty I set an explicit denial.

Mr. Wyeth's statements are purely ex parte, and abound in general assertions which are fortified neither by names nor dates. He has a case to plead. "The Southern side of prison