The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1870-06-30


their countrymen, they claimed the right TO
live in old England or in New England, as
| they saw fit. Their business here was 'to
meddle with other peoples consciences."
They took up the gauntlet of the Puritan,
and accepted his challenge Equal to their
enemy in sincerity, in integrity of purpose,
in devotion to their idea, they possessed the
advantage of being in the right.
They resolved to establish in Massachusetts,
the right of every man to worship God, not
according to old John Nortons conscience,
but each according to the dictates of his own
conscience.
Without organization, without any especial
cooperation, rejecting the use of carnal
weapons, and ''relying solely upon those
which are spiritual and mighty through God,
to the pulling down of strongholds,' they
attacked the Puritan Bastile. There could be
but one issue to such contest. The Quakers
triumphed, and despotism was vanquished.
The following account of the drawings and
sketches by the old masters in the gallery of
the Ponte Vecchio in Florence is particularly
interesting now that they have all been placed
within the reach of American art-lovers by
means of the admirable 'ambrotypes' of
Braun-
But once under the fascination of what is
within the walls, and we forget everything
sketches, more than twenty thousand in
number, the works of the great artists of all
countries-the rough draughts, the first hints
for the finished pictures which fill the great
galleries. Here you see whence the pic
ture grew; here you find the eager monk
poring over his book, the lazy boy
fast asleep in the sun, the girl stepping
up with her pitcher on her head, the peasant
woman watching her baby, the chubby little
boys playing games, which appear on the
painted canvas as saints, madonnas, and che
| rubs. Here you learn, too, the method Of
| each masters work. The sketches of Fra
| Angelica, for instance, whether in pen and
ink or pencil, are so finely and delicately
finished so clear and definite, that you feel
that the picture stood so, distinct, in his
| mind even before one line YVES made; in
Fra Bartolomeos, on the contrary, you find
line covering line, one detail in place of
another; and it is evident that only as he
worked did the picture take its definite form.
Again, the drawings of the German mas
ters have carefulness of detail, most exact
rendering of each line and shade, leaving
nothing for the imagination to fill out; while
the Italian sketches are rather suggestions,
hints from which you guess the whole, some
times mere broken outlines, or patches of light
and shade, which yet tell their story effect
lively if you will give them moments heed.
Nowhere is this contrast more strongly
marked than in the portraits.
The first impression of any German portrait
| is of its correctness. Just as the man or
woman looks out on you from the wall they
must have looked out in life. The charm of
the picture is just there; it gives you the peo-
! Pile, you may make of them what you can.
! The artist does not attempt to interpret ANY
thing for you beyond the actual lines and
shades which he sees but he does that with
SO much care and reverent earnestness, that
he forces you to admit the justice of his
claim to your attention even of the stiff and
| stolid people to whom he introduces you.
But it is quite otherwise with the
portrait of Leonardo da Vinci, for instance,
| of which there are some exquisitely finished
here. Your first thought is not of the like
ness, or the artist, or even of the personal
| appearance, as we say, but of the soul behind.
You do not stop to notice the outline of fea-
ture, or the arrangement of head-dress; you
go right to the person himself. This is not
so to speak, the respect for humanity with
which the German artist inspires you, but
personal interest in this one individual.
There is one portrait, for instance, of
young girl, 1 think, though it is impossible
to tell her exact age, which is
irresistibly attractive You find
yourself specializing on the quiet content that
looks out from under the slightly dropping
eyelids, and just curves the corners of the
mouth, as she sits with hands folded before
her, and head slightly turned to one side, quite
absorbed in her own thoughts. Of what is
she thinking now? What other thoughts
will come, as the years go by, to break up
that pleasant dreaming and disturb that
quiet self-possession? L think you
will never know. There is a quiet
strength and inward force about the woman,
that will carry her through all trial victo-
riously, at least as far as outward sign goes
and when she is grey, her forehead will be as
smooth, her eye as clear, as now.
But most of the sketches are not as finished
as this, over which it is clear that Leonardo
fingered because he loved it. Many of the
scraps of paper have half dozen things
thrown together at random, noted at the mo-
ment and thrown aside. Sometimes even a
scrap of sonnet has crept into the edge,
among the unappropriated hands and arms;
for this collection is, in comparison with
the galleries of paintings, what familiar,
friendly letters are to the published essay
what the social, after-dinner talk is to the
evening lecture. The members of this COM
pany are not expressing carefully formed
opinions, for which they may be held respon-
sible, and perhaps called to account they are
not on their guard against criticism and
cavilling; they speak the thought, the fancy
of the moment, willing to give it
up instantly if better offer. So, as we
have said, they take you into their
daily lives; they show you their own
surroundings their likes and dislikes the
work discloses instead of concealing the
workman; and you find, as always, when you
, are fortunate enough to be admitted to such
intimacy with real earnest life, that you are
gaining from it far more than from any
l.L H..