kindliest of human beings. But, suddenly, when we were in that part of Princes street pavement which is nearly opposite to the side of the Scott monument, there appeared before us, in the dim light of approaching midnight, a spectacle which strangely moved him. It was one of those rotatory imps-the first of his order, I should think, in Edinburgh-who earn pennies by tumbling heels over head with rapidity five or six times continuously. To discern precisely what it was at that time of night, especially as the phenomenon was then a rare one, was exceedingly difficult. Maddened, as it appeared, by the sight of the revolving creature, our friend rushed at him, hitting at him with his umbrella, and sternly interrogating, "What are you?" Calling up from the pavement, "I'm a wheel, I'm a wheel," the thing continued to revolve, fast as the Manx Arms set a-whirling, full half the distance between two lamp-posts. Unsatisfied by the information, and still pursuing the thing, and striking at it with the hook of his umbrella, ran our friend, while we gazed on with amazement. A great awe fell upon us; and even now, when I think of debating societies, or of life itself, I seem to see the rotatory imp in the lamplit darkness of Princes street pursued by the frenzied metaphysician. The Saturday Review. THE TUSCAN SCHOOL OF SCULPTURE. THE last six months have been unusually fertile in valuable English contributions to the history of Italian art. Readers will remember our recent notices of the works of Mrs. Jameson and Lady Eastlake, and of Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle. What the latter writers have done with signal success for the painters is now done for their fellow-laborers in bronze and marble by an American gentleman, who has devoted, we hear, twenty years to the investigation of his subject. As with the Lives of the Painters, this investigation had to be mainly conducted by diligent visits of exploration through * Tuscan Sculptors, their Lives, Works and Times. With Illustrations. By Charles C. Per2 vols. London: Longman & Co. kins. the peninsula; for hardly more specimens of Italian sculpture anterior to the year 1600 can be found, even in the local museums, than of the frescoes to which the artists before 1500 committed their best thoughts and their most graceful images. And, out of Italy, excepting in some degree our own recent collection at South Kensington, only a few scattered pieces can be found with authentic right to the names of Donatello, Ghiberti, or Luca della Robbia. Most of the specimens lately brought from the Campana collection by the French Government are simply trash; and we fear that many a cherished Cellini chasing, in private or public hands throughout Europe, must surrender its title before the remorseless logic of facts. Add to this that the illustrations hitherto published of the earlier Italian sculpture (as those in Cicognara and D'Azincourt) are little better than diagrams, while for the history we have had to rely upon the vague notices of Vasari, the untranslated essays of Cicognara, and a few scattered lives of Michel Angelo and his contemporaries, in which the characteristics of the age of Leo have occupied a larger space than the art of which they were the last representatives. Mr. Perkins has hence a fair field. two handsome quartos before us, though complete in themselves, embrace about one-half of the subject which he has undertaken; and we wish him the success to which taste, diligence, and disinterested devotion entitle him. He has not, perhaps, treated his matter with the bold originality and exhaustive research of M. Cavalcaselle, although not a few corrections of popular blunders, and many facts new to the English reader, are here collected; and his judgments are marked by fairness and a true feeling for art. The sketches of Italian history which Mr. Perkins has introduced, if occasionally they lead one away from sculpture, are nevertheless essential to a clear comprehension of the peculiar conditions under which the sculptors worked; the style is clear and pleasing, and the engravings are by far the best with which any recent book of sculpture, at least in England, has been illustrated. The The small city of Pisa was at first, to Italian sculpture, what Florence was to painting. The initiative taken in the centre for the combination of spire and arcade and pinnacle which the design of the first architect would have probably given us. Such an error would have been natural in Mr. Joseph Woods, or any of the old fashioned worshippers of the Renaissance pur sang; but from one who, like Mr. Perkins, estimates with sense and severity the lifelessness of that once-vaunted movement, we should have expected better things, architecturally speaking. But we return to the main subject of the book before us, of which, as in the case of Mr. Crowe's, fertile as it is in new facts and judgments of interest, we can do no more than give an outline which, we hope, will send our readers to the original. The school of the Pisani is succeeded by those sculptors whom our author describes as "the allegorical" former art by Niccola Pisano was so lately noticed in this journal that we need do no more now than add that, while agreeing with Mr. Perkins in his estimate of the probable impulse given by this very remarkable man, we must also concur with Mr. Ruskin and Mr. Crowe in holding that the peculiar antique direction of his art was without effect. At any rate, his son Giovanni, and his distinguished pupil Arnolfo del Cambio (formerly known as Da Lapo), show no clear traces of leaning to the GrecoRoman style of Niccola. Mr. Perkins gives a good print of the singular allegorical group of the city of Pisa by Giovanni, in which he finds a German or fantastic element; and another of his celebrated monument to Pope Benedict X. at Perugia. This is an excellent specimen of the strictly Christian tomb. The Bishop is laid out on his couch, the a title to which "the Giottesque" curtains of which are held back by angels, might perhaps be preferable. Andrea his face bearing that peculiar expression da Pontedera heads this school; his nine -neither precisely of death or of sleep, years' labour on the beautiful gates of but rather something midway between the Florentine Baptistery, lately noticed these sister-powers-which the early by us, might be a useful lesson to the too artists were so successful in suggesting. often slovenly sculptors of modern EngThe modern caricature of this species of land, were they artists in mind as well monument was exhibited two years ago as in title. Orcagna, Nino of Pisa, and in the cold and inane lifelessness with Balduccio are Andrea's best known folwhich a recumbent figure of Lord Herbert was modelled by one of the worst recent offenders in sculpture-Mr. Philip -who, we believe, under the patronage of Mr. Scott, now enjoys the privilege of disfiguring St. George's Chapel. An interesting sketch of Arnolfo's architectural labors is next given. Several of the most characteristic buildings of Florence are due to him-namely, the Palazzo Vecchio, frowning with mountain weight over that narrow square which is equally rich in art and in historical memories; Or San Michele, a church soon afterwards decorated by Orcagna and by Donatello; and that stately Duomo of which the outside bears witness to the exquisite taste of Arnolfo, while the interior exhibits the almost universal inability of the Italians to fathom the secret of the Gothic style. But we must take the liberty to differ decidedly from Mr. Perkins in his statement that the Duomo has gained by the substitution of that clumsy octagon of tiles which Brunelleschi hoisted up to the lowers. Of these, the last carried the Tuscan style northward under the patronage of Azzo Visconti, tyrant of Milan, in which city he has left numerous specimens of his graceful hand. Balduccio's principal work, the lovely allegorical figures of which show Giotto's influence, is the tomb of the so-called Saint, Peter of Verona, in the church of San Eustorgio; the story of whose life, as recounted by Mr. Perkins, is one of the many proofs which medieval history, honestly read, affords that no boast can be idler than that of the Latin communion which appeals so strongly to weak hearts-the assertion of her perpetual unity. Last in this first stage of sculpture we may place the great Orcagna, who like the majority of the artists here noticed, was not less distinguished for skill in architecture. To this cause the profound effect which the medieval Tuscan sculpture produces upon cultivated spectators may be, we think, justly ascribed. In spite of the praise bestowed by fervent admirers, we must hold that neither the statuary nor the buildings of that period and country let us add for the benefit or the vexation reach, with very rare exceptions, high of collectors, are now counterfeited with excellence in their respective arts. It is such skill, and in such abundance, that, as idle to place the Duomo of Florence like those by Bernard Palissy, hardly any on an equality with the Cathedral of certificate of genuineness, except where Rheims as to speak of the carvings of we can have distinct historical proof, can Donatello or Michel Angelo in the terms be trusted. We know of one dealer in appropriate to the work of Phidias. But Florence who sold six successive reliefs an effect on the mind hardly inferior is by Della Robbia, from the same church produced by the intimate and vital union wall, to six too enthusiastic amateurs of between the masterpieces of the delight- ancient Tuscan workmanship. The wise ful sculptors of Tuscany and the architec- will pay a visit to the Ginori works at ture which enshrines their treasures. Doccia, and content themselves with the And all our English efforts to restore same thing at the price of a reproducarchitecture are hopeless and valueless tion; or there are skillful hands, much until we have men sufficiently gifted and nearer England, which will supply them trained to model the human form, no less with Luca or Andrea at discretion. But than to design the elevation. we will not dwell on this torturing topic. The second great epoch of Tuscan sculpture sees the art fairly transferred to that city which was, at the same time, the centre of painting-Florence. It may be parted into two main sections. In the earlier, the influence of the Renaissance is slightly felt; the religious elements are yet predominant; gradual improvement in studying natural form is perceptible, and grace and life more and more penetrate the bronze and the marble; but the leading wish is to express Christian sentiment in a way which, compared with the Greek, might be called pictorial rather than plastic. Our limits will allow us little more than a list of names. Ghiberti, although so far imbued with the singular and (we must add) the shallow classicality of that age as to date a visit to Rome "in the 440th Olympiad"-a date which naturally defeats Mr. Perkins' powers of calculation, seeing that an Olympiad covered four years-is perhaps the most complete example of the style just characterized. Greater power and variety, with a clearer perception of the limits of sculpture, belong to Donatello, whom the author apparently regards as the central or typical artist of the Florentine school. A basrelief of "Dancing Children," beautifully engraved after the original at Prato, seems to us to merit this praise more than the somewhat meagre, though famous, "St. George" from Or San Michele. Desiderio da Settignano, Mino da Fiesole, Luca della Robbia and his firm or family, may be grouped with Donatello. The Robbia earthenwares, Mr. Perkins furnishes a very curious history of the equestrian group of Bartolomeo Colleoni, cast for Venice by the great Verocchio. He gives no small share in this justly celebrated work to Verocchio's successor in completing the group, a certain Venetian-Leopardi. We must demur, however, to some of the praise here awarded to Leopardi, as we can hardly help ascribing to him the head of the horse, which is precisely the least satisfactory portion of the group; although Mr. Perkins is probably correct in assigning the style of the drapery at any rate to Venetian influence. A notice of the similar group modelled by Verocchio's greater pupil, the all-accomplished and all-capable Leonardo, is also given. This is enough to convince us that we have lost the one work of Italian sculpture which might really have borne comparison with the Hellenic, in that model which was destroyed by the French soldiery of Louis XII., as their successors, under Napoleon, defaced Leonardo's "Last Supper." So France "protects the arts"-a protection, let us add, too well appreciated in Germany, Spain, and Italy, to require any comment. After these artists the decline commences. Study of form for form's sake, study of finish for the sake of finish, study of grace as an exhibition of balanced lines, all led the sculptor away from the object of his art-the expression of religious sentiment or pathetic thought through metal or marble. Then came the last and fatal change which, from Pollajuolo to Gibson, Mr. Perkins justly German and narcotic, life by Herr considers has practically ruined Italian Grimm, of which a translation has just sculpture. The dead subjects of Greek been issued, contains the strange stateor Roman mythology were substituted ment that the letters so long preserved for subjects which appealed to living by the Buonarroti family have been hearts and heads. In place of the sacred handed over to the State authorities, figures of Christian art, we have the foul with an injunction to forbid any revelarevel of the Satyr, the heavy extrava- tion of their contents. Should this irragance of the Neptune, or the nastiness tional entail be broken through (as comof the painted Venus. But it is only mon sense demands), we may hope to the earlier portion of this "road down- return to a subject which is little likely wards" (for no one can deny real, though to lose its interest as a tale, or its immisdirected, creative power to Polla- portance as a lesson. juolo, Torrigiano, or Giovanni Bologna) which falls within Mr. Perkins' province. To these artists, with the less important though once European reputations of Sansovino, Bandinelli, and others, he has devoted the same conscientious labor with which he has illustrated their predecessors. But we can only glance at this subject, adding that Mr. Perkins gives to the dismay, again, of collectors -the brief list of best-authenticated specimens of the base but skillful Cellini, and that his print of the "Jonah," ascribed to Raffaelle, fully confirms that impossibility of successfully "cutting in" to sculpture from painting on which we dwelt in the course of last autumn. Michel Angelo is of course the great name-we may truly say, the one and only great name-during the last days of the Tuscan school. Once more, in Mr. Perkins' pages, we traverse that most melancholy of all artist-biographies -the misdirected training, hesitating between the frescoes of Ghirlandajo and the counsels of Lorenzo; the design for the Julius monument of colossal impossibility; years wasted in ignoble dispute, or buried in the quarries of Cararra; the insults of the unworthy, the cabals of the jealous; and last, but alas! not least, in the long series of misfortune, the sensitive nature and obstinate disposition of the misunderstood and unhappy Buonarroti. A sadder picture, we repeat, can hardly be found. Even the Sistine "Jeremiah" of the great painter-greater here, as is now generally recognized, than he was in sculpture-does not express more predominance or hopelessness of sorrow. But the materials for a complete judgment on Michel Angelo have not yet been published, at least in England. The elaborate, but eminently Blackwood's Magazine. DAY AND NIGHT. THE days were once too short for life and me— Too short for life-too short for hopes that made time. And but for glories sweet of stars and moon, And on that path amid the rising mists And on this road there was no need of night. The sweet and bitter of each unknown thing, Now it is changed: up to the mountain-head All things have changed; but this most changed of all, That I have learned the busy day by heart, Like him who once scaled heaven and fathomed hell, The path obscure* and wild has made me fear. So now, if there be any praise to say, And I were glad, if ever glad I were, They should shut close behind my flying feet So might I wake e'er I was half aware But the light morning comes and wakes the world, Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita This is the very morn, the selfsame morn, Night, that can blur the boundaries of time, 'Twas sweet to live when life was fresh and young; It would be sweet to live if life was old, The heavenly headlands heaving slow in sight. All clear and bare, with nought that can be hid; To know that Joy flashes his angel wings And think ye not the darkling night is dear To one with this chill landscape in his eyes? The gloom that blots the weary pathway out, And the dear sleep, which still 'tis possible Might steal the traveler unawares to heaven? Thus nightly to the tender night I make Beautiful night! that in thy dewy hand M. O. W. O. Popular Science Review. WAVES OF HEAT AND WAVES OF DEATH. BY B. W. RICHARDSON, M. A., M. D. WHILE our sanitarians are busily occupied in pointing out those evils of our social condition, on which many diseases rest that need never be seen or |