THE BOY SCULPTOR.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume III, Issue 134, 26 November 1875, Page 13

THE BOY SCULPTOR.

Fotte, hundred years ago, in the gardens of the Medici Palace, might be seen a party of the young friends of Pietro de Medici, who had been dismissed from the learned talk of the savants and artist* who surrounded the hospitable table of " Lorenzo the Magnificent," as he is often called. There had been an unusual fa,ll of snow for the -warm climat* of Italy, and it lay before them on the ground in that soft, tempting whiteness that schoolboys like so well. " Let us make statues," proposed one, a youth of fourteen. " Of -what?" said another. "Of the snow," replied the first speaker, named Michael Angelo ; and with merry shout 3 they plunged into the snow, without a thought of their costumes of velvet and lace, carrying it and piling it in masses at different places along the gallery and shaping it into some rude resemblance of the human form, which did not much differ from the " old snow man " of the boys of the nineteenth century. But Michael Angelo saw in the distance the statue of a faun, headless and much injured, which had been brought from some old ruin. " Ah ! I will make a head to this faun j" and he began shaping and moulding the damp snow. As he worked, his companions gathered around h,im and looked on, forgetting their own sport in watching him, as gradually the head began to appear and grew under his touch into a real face with ;^ood features. Then standing, watching the effect of each motion, "He must be sardonic, — fauns laugh 1" said the boy, as he gave an upward turn with his finger to the corner of his mouth. " There ! that is not bad ; and one can always do -what one loves. I have drawn in the love of sculpture with the milk of my nurse. Her husband is a sculptor, and, from a baby, I have played making statues." Stepping back to get a good look at his work, he ran against some one, and, to his amazement, discovered it was the great noble himself, who, followed by all his guests, had entered the gallery the youthful artists were decorating for them, while they were bo engaged as not to perceive them. They all stooped to comment on the statues, and approaching the faxm, Lorenzo said : " This is rather the work of one entering upon the career of a master, than the attempt of sl novice. But, Michael, do you know that this is a statue of an old faun, and the old do not have all their teeth ? You hare gireii him more than toe have. Is it not so my friends ?" " You are right, my lord :" and with one stroke, Michael knocked oixt a tooth and made the hollow in the gum which showed its loss. Among the noble guests were hia father and his uncle, who had sternly discouraged all Michael's attempts in art, and deemed it an unworthy thing that the heir of the princely house of Canossa shouid handle the sculptor's chisel even in sport. But now, flattered by the praise of Lorenzo, the great patron of art, they looked smilingly on, and Michael knew, as he rode home that night with his austere relations, that hia long forbidden love of art could now be indulged; the glory of his boyhood's dreams was to become the glory of his life. Who can tell what forme of beauty and visions of fame flitted through his excited brain, wild with the delight of Lorenzo's notice f Could he know that under the dome of St, Peter's at Eome, the most magnificent Christian temple on the earth, people of all nations would come to do him homage ? Let us follow his career. At nineteen he made a beautiful group in marble of the dead Christ in hia mother's lap. He carved the colossal statue of the young David for the ducal palace of Florence. He designed, and in part completed, the grand mausoleum for Juliui 11., the central figure of which is Mose3, at which he worked over forty years ; and the reclining figure of Day and Night, Morning iuid Evening, are so much admired that they are to be reproduced on a monument soon to be erected to Michael JLngolo at the scene of his labours. There are but few paintings o his on canvas, for he is said to have had a contempt for easel pictures. The Pope sent for him to come and decorate the walls of his chapel at the Vatican. The architects did not know how to construct a scaffolding which would enable him to reach the ceiling, and he invented one ; and also a curious paper cap, -which would hold a candle in front, and thus leave his hands fre« to work at night. He covered the ceilings with beautiful paintings of scenes taken from the Old Testament. Thirty years afterward, he painted on the end of the chapel the wonderful picture of '• The Last Judgment." Thousands of people visit it every year, and gaze on it with reverence and wonder and delight. St. Peter's was the closing work of his life. Begun long before, many artists had ■worked upon it — many architects had made plans for it; but it was left to Michael Angelo to raise the dome, and leave such a perfect model for its completion that it now stands a* the crowning glory of his fame. And it was the work of an old man. At seventy, other men generally lay down their life's labour, but he commenced the painting of "The Last Judgment ;" and the building of St. Peter's was in progress at the time of his death when he was ninety. With all his great powers he was Dot unmindful of little things. Nothing was too trivial for ua.ro. The designing of a crucifix for a lady's wear, the candelabra for the chapel, the costume of the Papal guard, still worn, show his minute attention to detail. In all his works we see the same intelligent thought that was manifested in the moulding of the faun's mouth, his boyhood's triumph. Nobly was the prediction of Lorenzo de Medici fulfilled, " that

it was the -work of one entering upon the career of a master." In Michael Ang-elo, the great master of art, who at ninety stood am rag the honoured of the world, ripened all the promise of the boy who, more than seventy years before, modelled the snow-face for an hour's pastime in the garden of tlxe Medici Palace.