National Republican., 1883-01-22

III llSlculuB hdJuIutbN HlJCIuOOn W MI W.
w. Story sketching the .lile and works of
Michael Angelo, it was impossible not to re-
member that poet was talking of q poet, q
painter of painter q sculptor of sculptor,
for the lecturer has won high fame in poesy,
in sculpture, and in art, and the great dead
of whom he discour5ed brooks no rival in his
many-sided genius, save, perhaps Da Vinci.
Unlike in character and appearance, the sunny
temper of the American vividly contrasting
with the somber spirit of the Italian, yet over
the mind of the living artist, as he told of the
glories ofthe Sistine chapel and the Mausoleum
of the Medci the dead painter still welded
the spell which his mighty genius had first
evoked at the feet of the Aurora and the
Crepusculc. In the words of the
speaker as in the works Of the
Florentinc, the thought was all in all and the
expression only subsidiary. Yet with both
Story aud Angelo the beauty of the thought
necessarily wrought beauty of investiture,
and the matchless splcndor of the great 1tnl-
JAMS genius was described by the American in
radiant terms and in rhythmical pauscs. The
hall was crowded with n brilliant and intel
lectual audience, intcntly interested in the
story told. 1t was another case where fashion
paid homage to genius, and the bon ton of
Americas capital thrilled in responsive SYM
pathy TO the glowing thoughts and the spark
ling diction of tho one American qualified
from many sided genius to interpret the Ii
tanic life of the great master Of modern art.
Mr. Story was introduced by Hon. George
Il. Loring, whose graceful address was fitting
prelude to the splendid monogram of the ar
tist. Mr. Story is about the medium hight,
compactly built with an oval face, high for
head, from which the hair has receded, clear
cut features, and quick, sprngy step. The
gray hair in his beard is n pallid witness that
youth is gone, but it accompanies vigorous
and brilliant manhood His voice is rich,
clear, and musical, and to the triple crown of
poet sculptor, and painter, which he wears,
he might easily add that of the orator.
"The overthrow Of the pagan religion" said
the artist, with rapid delivery, but n distinct
articulation, twas the deathblow to pagan
art. The temples shook to their foundation
and art withered in her crumbling shrine.
When through the ancient world was
heard the mournful cry, first echoed by
the sunlit waves of the Egcan sea,
Great Pan is dcad!' then tho nymphs
fed from the hallowod groves of Arcadia, and
were seen no more. The hamadryad deserted
her oak and the naiad her fountain. of all
the great tribes to which the poetic and relig-
ious instincts of Greece and Rome bowed,
only Orphcus remained, and ho was trans
formed into monkish saint. Christianity
struck deathblOw not only to pagan art but
to all art, which atrophied and shrunlS for
centuries until, driven out of the rest of the
world, its sickencd and diseased body found
refuge in some monastery. The statues of the
gods wero overthrown and buried under
the earth-those wonderful creations ofbeauty
which voice the highest demands of human
ity. Only boodless saints remained. HUI
manity tremblcd in the grasp of an iron-cascd
bigotry. Youth and beauty and joy were
suppliants, where once they were free and
prince-likc. Religion and art, which cannot
live apart, were divorced. The long, dark
night of the middle ages Came on--a night
without star, and the blackness of n sordid
ignorance blotted out all fair sights or scenes.
Only arms remained. For music and poetry,
and sculpture and science there were only the
butcherics of the battlefield. But the seasons
of the soul are like those of nature. After
the long, cold winter of the dark ages came the
springtmc of the rcnaissance--tho now birth
of humanity. The church awolkc. Guelf and
Ghibcline began their memorable contest.
Commerce fourished, and art, literature.
science, religion itself, burst into new and
vigorous life. Then flashing from the firma-
ment of mind tho brilliant stars of art
and literature shOne out in lambcnt glory
Dante, BoccacciO, Potrarch FilOmcna, NIachie-
velli, and all that bright galaxy of lights that
cast u morning radiance far back even into
the hideous night that had preceded it.
Music took upon herself II flirer form, art
blOssOmCd into most fragrant ftuiton, science
itself awolie from its slccpand began its Won
derful course. The marble gods that had lain
SO long beneath the earth arose from their
graves and rcasscrted their dominion over
the souls rs they had formerly welded
it over tho minds of men. Here lived
and wrought Leonardo Da Vinci,
sive intellect the world has ever seen; /;
Angelo the greatest power that ever worked
on stone; Ralaele, the soul of beauty and
grace, with his pencil dipped in the ColOrs Of
Paradise; Titan, who stole from tho sunset
the secret of its hues Calico, Columbus, and
many Others These were the men who lived
with, or immediately preceded, Michael An
gclo. 1t was the renaissance, the morning
after the night. As Italy is above all others
the land of the renaissance, so is Florence
above all other places in Italy the city of its
new birth. There is scarcely street in that
beautiful city, or square, that has not some
thing to say of the brilliant glorics IL once
shared. One walks the city guided by men,
ory rather than by vision, The old families
still give their names to tho streets. The
whole city is filled with ghosts, even in whose
pallor we can read what was tho blush and
bloom of her Towering days"
Then, brilliantly and gracefully, the leo
turcr drew brilliant and graceful sketch Of
the Tuscan capital in the days of its glory,
and described the treasures of art that are
heaped therc-the DuOmO, the Campanilc,
the Palazzo Necchi, its beautiful churches, its
wonderful statutes its marvellous paintings.
Lingering n moment over the mighty memo
res of Bruncleschi, Of Dante, whose statue
the city iealously guards, though the Justly
indignant poet would not let her have his
bones of Savanarola of Giotto, and the hun
dreds of other great names that have immOr-
talizcd Ia bella FOreR:d, he briefly sketched
the life, the works, the character of Michael
Angelo BuonnrotH. Poet, painter, sculptor,
architect, engineer he was supreme in each
and unappToached in all. Born in 147I of
noble, If not of royal blood, he lived and
worked incessantly for ninety years.
His capacity for work was marvel
Gus. He accomplished the impossible
and overcome the insuperable. As sculptor,
his grand aud glowing genius IN above the
rules Of the schools, having sought and found
on tho white sleeps beyond human power tho
law which governs and the soul which in
spires his wonderful creations. No name
other than that of'Phidias may be mentioned
with his. As an artist ho taught even
Ralaolle, and the latter learned from the
lesson still more graceful touch and n still
lOitier, serener beauty. AS an architect, the
grandest fabric ever wrought by man swings
in the mid air of Rome to attest his supreme
genius, the dome of st, Peters, which is the
lofty brow cncasiug the brain of the church.
As an engineer, the stubborn defense of his
native Florence is q competent witness that
ms a soldier he could have been as great as an
artist. AS n poet though he swept no Lydan
strains from his Tyre, yet tho clear sweet
piercing melody of his song sweeps tho ctcr-
nal heights with no uncertain sounds, As a
man he was VOL nigh perfect. His senti-