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He has marched us through miles of pictures and sculpture in the vast corridors of the Vatican; and through miles of pictures and sculpture in twenty other palaces; he has shown us the great picture in the Sistine Chapel, and frescoes enough to frescoe the heavens pretty much all done by Michael Angelo.
It was a fine print of the Crucifixion, for which I had often longed, a German woodcut in the powerful manner of Albert Dürer, after a design by Michael Angelo. It was neither too realistic nor too mediæval, and the face was very noble. Aunt Isobel had had it framed, and below on an illuminated scroll was written "What are these wounds in Thine Hands?
It is natural to refer often to the towering eminence of these virtues in Michael Angelo; both he and Duerer were not only great artists, and active and powerful minds, but men imbued with, and conservative of, piety.
She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased the beauty of her face. "I have a brother who is condemned to die," she continued. "Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother." "Every fault," said Angelo, "is condemned before it is committed. A fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault went free."
"But the people are not satisfied," said Father Angelo; "and there are enough mischief-makers among them to throw all the blame on our father." "Yes," said one, "they say he wanted to burn the Holy Sacrament, because he was going to take it with him into the fire." "As if it could burn!" said another voice. "It would to all human appearance, I suppose," said a third.
Thus writers speak of the schools of Lionardo da Vinci, of Michael Angelo, of Raffaelle, of Correggio, of Titian, of the Caracci, and of every artist who acquired a distinguished reputation, and had many followers.
The unusual event of an excursion by Michael Angelo into the country took place in 1556, possibly with a view to avoiding the troubles feared in Rome from the Duke of Alva, Spanish Viceroy of Naples. Michael Angelo informed his nephew that he was making a pilgrimage to Loreto, but feeling tired stopped to rest at Spoleto.
Michel Angelo tested this disposition, even more current in his time than now; though some say it was done unknown to him.
As he sat, his head sunk on his breast, his elbow resting on a stump of pine the token of a progressive civilisation his chin upon his hand, he looked like the figure of Moses made immortal by Michael Angelo. But his strength was not like that of the man beside him, who was thirty years younger.
Then again Isabel on her knees implored for mercy. "He is sentenced," said Angelo. "It is too late." "Too late!" said Isabel. "Why, no! I that do speak a word may call it back again. Believe this, my lord, no ceremony that to great ones belongs, not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, the marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, becomes them with one half so good a grace as mercy does."