Great Pictures, As Seen and Described by Famous Writers | Page 8

the art of Italy had been called.
Studies in the History of the Renaissance (London, 1873).

THE QUEEN OF SHEBA
(_VERONESE_)
JOHN RUSKIN
This picture is at Turin, and is of quite inestimable value. It is hung
high; and the really principal figure--the Solomon, being in the shade,
can hardly be seen, but is painted with Veronese's utmost tenderness, in
the bloom of perfect youth, his hair golden, short, crisply curled. He is
seated high on his lion throne; two elders on each side beneath him, the
whole group forming a tower of solemn shade. I have alluded,

elsewhere, to the principle on which all the best composers act, of
supporting these lofty groups by some vigorous mass of foundation.
This column of noble shade is curiously sustained. A falconer leans
forward from the left-hand side, bearing on his wrist a snow-white
falcon, its wings spread, and brilliantly relieved against the purple robe
of one of the elders. It touches with its wings one of the golden lions of
the throne, on which the light also flashes strongly; thus forming,
together with it, the lion and eagle symbol, which is the type of Christ,
throughout mediæval work. In order to show the meaning of this
symbol, and that Solomon is typically invested with the Christian
royalty, one of the elders by a bold anachronism, holds a jewel in his
hand in the shape of a cross, with which he (by accident of gesture)
points to Solomon; his other hand is laid on an open book.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN OF SHEBA. _Veronese._]
The group opposite, of which the Queen forms the centre, is also
painted with Veronese's highest skill; but contains no point of interest
bearing on our present subject, except its connection by a chain of
descending emotion. The Queen is wholly oppressed and subdued;
kneeling, and nearly fainting, she looks up to Solomon with tears in her
eyes; he, startled by fear for her, stoops forward from the throne,
opening his right hand, as if to support her, so as almost to drop the
sceptre. At her side her first maid of honour is kneeling also, but does
not care about Solomon; and is gathering up her dress that it may not be
crushed; and looking back to encourage a negro girl, who, carrying two
toy-birds, made of enamel and jewels, for presentation to the King, is
frightened at seeing her Queen fainting, and does not know what she
ought to do; while lastly, the Queen's dog, another of the little fringy
paws, is wholly unabashed by Solomon's presence, or anybody else's;
and stands with his forelegs well apart, right in front of his mistress,
thinking everybody has lost their wits; and barking violently at one of
the attendants, who has set down a golden vase disrespectfully near
him.
Modern Painters (London, 1860).

THE LAST JUDGEMENT
(_MICHAEL ANGELO_)
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
While Michael Angelo worked upon his Moses, Clement VII.,
following the example of Julius II., would not leave him alone for a
moment. It was a trick of all these Popes to exact from the poor artist
something different to what he was doing at the time. To obtain some
respite, he was forced to promise the Pope that he would occupy
himself at the same time with the cartoon of The Last Judgment. But
Clement VII. was not a man to be put off with words; he supervised the
work in person, and Buonarroti was obliged to pass continually from
the chisel to the pencil and from the pen to the mallet. _The Last
Judgment!_ _Moses!_ these are two works of little importance and easy
to do off-hand! And yet he had to. His Holiness would not listen to
reason.
One day it was announced to Michael Angelo that he would not receive
his accustomed visit: Clement VII. was dead. The artist breathed freely
just during the Conclave.
The new Pope, Paul III., had nothing more pressing to do than to
present himself in Buonarroti's studio, followed pompously by ten
cardinals. The newly-elected Pope was easily recognized there!
[Illustration: THE LAST JUDGMENT. Michael Angelo.]
"Ah!" said the Holy Father, in a tone of firm decision, "I hope that
henceforth the whole of your time will belong to me, Maestro
Buonarroti."
"May your Holiness deign to excuse me," replied Michael Angelo, "but
I have just signed an engagement with the Duke of Urbino, which
forces me to finish the tomb of Pope Julius."
"What!" exclaimed Paul III.: "for thirty years I have had a certain wish

and now that I am Pope I cannot realize it!"
"But the contract, Holy Father, the contract!"
"Where is this contract? I will tear it up."
"Ah!" exclaimed in his turn the Cardinal of Mantua, who was one of
the suite, "your Holiness should see