had been chiefly used by the Greek artists in church decoration, and this art was by them perfectly understood, both as regards its requirements and its limitations. Cimabue added many graces to decorative art, but at the same time he clung to the proper maxims inculcated by Greek artists, which no time or alteration in the method of manner or production can change for the better.

Vasari knew perhaps less of Byzantine work than we now know, and besides this is, from his recklessness of statement and carelessness in accepting tradition without examination, no trustworthy witness, though the one on whom, unfortunately, most of our modern views of early art rest.

The Madonna of the Ruccellai Chapel is still one of the chief objects of pilgrimage of lovers of art who go to Italy; and it is still hanging, dingy, and veiled by the dust of centuries, in the unimposing, almost shabby, chapel of Santa Maria Novella, probably where Dante saw it, its panel scarred by nails which have been driven to put the ex votos on, split its whole length

by time's seasoning, and scaled in patches, the white gesso ground showing through the color-so obscured by time that one hardly can see that the Madonna's robe was the canonical blue, the sad mother's face looking out from under the hood, and the pathetic Christ-child blessing the adoring angel at the side. Like all the work of its time, it has a pathos which neither the greater power of modern art nor the enervate elaborateness of modern purism can ever attain. Something in it, by an inexplicable magnetism, tells of the profound devotion, the unhesitating worship, of the religious painter of that day; of faith and prayer, devotion and worship, forever gone out of art. And the aroma of centuries of prayer and trust still gives it, to me, a charm beyond that of art-the sacredness which lingers in the eyes which have looked into the sorrows and aspirations of the thousands of unhappy ones who in the past have laid their hearts before the Madonna of the Borgo Allegri.

W. J. Stillman.

THE

HE Madonna and Child No. 12, formerly 23, of the Belle Arti, Florence, there under the name of Cimabue, cannot be attributed to that master, as can be shown by comparison with his authenticated works. It was among the first that I did when I tumbled fresh into Florence, and as it hung in a pretty good light, sufficiently strong to admit of my engraving it before the original (which unfortunately is not the case with the fine works of Cimabue), I thought it might answer as an illustration of the master; but I was quickly undeceived in this when I showed my finished work to Mr. C. F. Murray, an artist skilled in the old masters, and who was then returned from London. So upon his suggestion I began the detail of the Cimabue of Santa Maria Novella, which of course I could not do before the original, since the chapel in which it is situated is too dark; so I managed it by means of careful notes. And as my quarters were right near the church, I had abundant opportunity to become thoroughly imbued with the original, finding out the particular hour of the day when the light was the best.

On comparing the Madonna No. 12 of the Belle Arti with this one in Santa Maria Novella, the first thing that strikes one is the grand and solemn character of the latter, which is an unfailing quality in all of Cimabue's undoubted works. Cimabue's drawing is always clean, delicate, and decided; his ornamentation, with the gold hatchings of the draperies and high lights, in the flat and conventional Byzantine manner. His fingers are long and the nails neatly drawn in: compare the hands of the two examples. In his faces the nostrils are always firmly and beautifully turned; and along the upper part of the bridge of the nose, where it joins the eyebrows, he makes a ridge of light, VOL. XXXVII.-10.

sometimes on either side of the nose, and very marked at times. The same is characteristic of the Byzantines. Compare the ear of the Child of the Santa Maria Novella Madonna with the same in the Madonna No. 12 of the Belle Arti. Other marked differences will be noticed upon careful consideration. In Room III. of the Belle Arti, in the farthermost and darkest corner, there is a large Madonna enthroned, by the same master, with angels surrounding it, and four prophets underneath. The fine, energetic, and imaginative quality of the angels' heads forms a good example of Cimabue's power.

FLORENCE, July 30, 1887.-It should be known that the best time for seeing the Cimabue here is between 5 and 6 P. M. of a sunny day in summer, and in winter an hour or so earlier. At that time the sun shines through the windows of the Strozzi Chapel, directly opposite, with such force as to light up the picture admirably, and only then can the fineness of its details be seen. Many visitors coming in the morning to see the picture quit the place summarily, disappointed, and declaring the place too dark for anything. This subject is situated in the Ruccellai Chapel of the Church of Santa Maria Novella. Entering the church from the piazza, you walk straight up towards the high altar, and on your right is the chapel, and the Cimabue facing you over the altar as you enter the chapel from the steps leading up to it. The shape of the picture is oblong, with a cornice-shaped top. In size it is 1434 feet high from bottom to apex; upright sides, 111⁄2 feet; width, 9% feet.

In a grand chair or throne, over the back of which is stretched a figured drapery, is seated the Madonna, with the infant Jesus on her knee, his arm outstretched in solemn attitude of benediction. Upon

each side of the chair kneel three angels in adoration, one over the other. The glories around the heads, and the background, are gold-gilded and ornamented, the ornamentation being engraved in the flat surface.

On the frame surrounding the whole of the picture are painted thirty medallions of heads of the prophets, apostles, and saints; each medallion being five inches in diameter, and at a distance of a foot apart. The whole is painted on wood, as is usual with all these early works, unless they are frescoes.

The delicacy and cleanness of the engraved work in the glories of these early works used to be a matter of surprise and wonderment to me, as I supposed they were engraved in the wood and then gilded over; and being curious as to how it was done, and with what sort of tools, I carefully examined every glory I came across, until I happened upon one from which the gilding was partly rubbed off, and it revealed a ground of plaster of Paris. In this material I found that it was quite easy to engrave, after the manner of these glories, with any dull-pointed steel instrument, held in the hand as a pencil; the solidity of lines close together, however, being dependent upon the angle with which the tool is held, giving a greater bevel to one side of the line. This kind of work is brought to its highest perfection in the glories of Fra Angelico, especially in that exquisite subject here in the Uffizi, the "Coronation of the Virgin," the gold background of which is engraved with fine lines radiating from the center, the gilded effect of which produces rays of light, movable according to the position of the spectator.

But to return to the Cimabue. Like all these early works it is painted in tempera upon wood, the surface of the wood being previously prepared with a thin ground of gesso or plaster of Paris. In technique it is precise and delicate, the details being worked out with the utmost care. In order thoroughly to appreciate the work it is necessary to get as near to it as possible, and this is done by asking any one of the guardians, who are always about, for permission to ascend the altar, which is readily granted. A set of portable steps is always kept in one corner of the chapel: you place the steps against the altar, and having ascended to it, you then lift the steps up after you; and having placed them securely upon the altar, you can ascend still farther. You are then in a position to inspect the detail of the drapery that is stretched upon the chair back of the Madonna. It must have been very beautiful when newly painted, for even now it is rich and full in variety of color and exquisite in finish, though softened by age and requiring a close inspection to discover its beauty. It hangs in folds, though all the patterns are drawn flatly, without respect to the modifications they would undergo in the foreshortening of the folds; the folds are merely painted over them. The Child's dress is illuminated in the Byzantine method of gold hatchings or

markings carried in the direction of the folds; the color of the garment is pinkish brown. The lighter undergarment is a grayish yellow, the flesh tints being deeper and more neutral than this latter color. The robe of the Madonna is a dark blue, edged with an ornamental border of gold. The chair is illuminated with markings of gold for the high lights on the many ornamental carvings, flowers, etc., and the feathers in the wings of the angels are all drawn in carefully, with these same gold markings upon a plain brownish ground, as delicate and clean as though done with a pen. The garments of the angels are of light, delicate hues of blue and pink, green and purple, purple and blue, and pink and green. They have gold ornamental bands on their shoulders, and the same through their hair, which is of a nut-brown color and hangs in curls and ringlets, but smooth over their foreheads, generally, with the exception, sometimes, of a few delicate ringlets, falling over. Their expression is sweet and serious; that of the Madonna is retiring, sad, and thoughtful; while the Child is grave beyond his years. The whole, no doubt, was painted in a very light key, for after six centuries of smoke and incense it is yet clear when looked into. It is a grand, impressive work of art, and whoever gives it a little attention must begin to feel its influence.

P. S. I might have added that the tints throughout are of the smoothest possible gradations, no brushmarks being visible unless they be of the faintest possible and most delicate pencilings, as though a small brush were used; and this is characteristic of all these early works.

FLORENCE, August 10, 1888.-For the Cimabue of Santa Maria Novella, see" History of Christian Art," by Lord Lindsay, Vol. I., p. 344, who says of it: "It has a character of its own, and, once seen, stands out from the crowd of madonnas, individual and distinct. The type is still the Byzantine, intellectualized perhaps, yet neither beautiful nor graceful; but there is a dignity and a majesty in her mien, and an expression of inward ponderings and sad anticipation rising from her heart to her eyes as they meet yours, which one cannot forget. The Child, too, blessing with his right hand, is full of the deity, and the first object in the picture, a propriety seldom lost sight of by the elder Christian painters." For the Cimabue No. 12, formerly 23, of the Belle Arti, see “History of Painting in Italy," by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Vol. I., p. 314, note. Also, as an aid to the critical study of the Italian painters, the work of Sig. Giovanni Morelli might be recommended with much profit to the student, viz.: "Italian Masters in German Galleries," translated from the German by Mrs. Louise M. Richter (London, George Bell & Sons). Also that of Marchese Visconti-Venosta: Una Nuova Critica dell' Antica Pittura Italiana." T. Cole.

F novelty in thought is a disease, it is a contagious disease. Every phase of intellectual activity is af flicted with it. We have a New History, a New Education, a New Astronomy, a New Social Science, a New Political Economy, and a New Theology. Those Athenians who are always looking for some new thing must find in the present aspect of public thought a great deal to exhilarate them, and those quiet spirits who dread agitation and deprecate novelty must find abundant cause for apprehension. For myself I neither dread nor desire novelty; but I desire to understand both the old and the new. My object in this article is neither to condemn nor to commend the concurrent moods of thought of the present century, but to consider their origin and their significance, and thus to afford some data for coming to a just judgment respecting them.

The Lutheran Reformation was not merely a religious protest against ecclesiastical authority: it was a great intellectual awakening. Almost simultaneously with the protests against the Papal authority and the demand for an open Bible were the discovery of a Western continent and a quickened commerce, the invention of the printing-press and a revival and enlargement of literature, the birth of the scientific spirit and its application both to theoretical science and to the practical arts. Shakspere and Cervantes, Gutenberg and Albert Dürer, Columbus and Copernicus, Loyola and Calvin, Xavier and Luther, were almost contemporaries. The first post-office, the first printing-press, the first telescope, the first spinning-wheel, were all nearly contemporaneous with the first open Bible and the first free religious speech. These are not accidents. In truth there are no accidents. The predominant principle of the Reformation-the right of private judgment was more than a religious principle; certainly it had much more than a theological application. It was a revolt against authority. It threw humanity back upon its own resources. Rights are duties; and the duty of private judgment laid upon mankind the duty of original investigation and inquiry. This right had first to be taught to man, who is always reluctant to take up a new right if it impose a new duty. The opportunity to exercise it had to be won in many a hard battle. It in

volved the wars in the Netherlands, the massacres in France, the civil wars in England. It cannot be said to be undisputed even now.

But by the beginning of the present century in all Protestant Europe, and even in most of Roman Catholic Europe, the right of man to think for himself had been established. It is still denied; it is still punished with ecclesiastical pains and penalties; but it no longer involves a hazard of life or limb. With the present century there began therefore a new era of intellectual activity-an era of individual and independent thinking. Authority was discarded; not religious authority only, but all authority over intellectual processes. The mind may be fettered or it may be free, but it cannot long be partly fettered and partly free. Freedom is indivisible; and the right to think in either science, politics, or religion carried with it necessarily the right to think in each of the other departments of thought. Liberty to investigate led to investigation. The Baconian philosophy was a natural and necessary production of the Lutheran Reformation; and a new science of life was the natural and necessary production of the Baconian philosophy. A fresh investigation was made into history. Records that had been unquestioned were subject to scrutiny. Niebuhr gave the world a new comprehension, not merely of Roman events, but of all ancient history. Stories that had passed current for generations were subjected to a free, not to say an irreverent, scrutiny. William Tell and King Canute were declared to be myths. Literature fared no better. Homer was abolished, and the Homeric ballads were attributed to an impersonal epoch by the same free spirit which denied the Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch and the apostolic authority of the Fourth Gospel. Shakspere was reduced from the rank of a poet to that of an actor, and his plays were variously attributed to Bacon and to anonymous authors. Scientific theories which tradition had stamped as current coin in the intellectual realm were cast into the melting-pot for a new assay. Some radical errors were discovered; and each discovery made easier the work of the critic. Every hypothesis was subjected to suspicion. The whole body of scientific tradition was swept away by the same spirit which refused to own allegiance to ecclesiastical tradition. The scientific talmuds were put away on the shelf as antique curiosities; and the world began an independent and direct investigation of phe