inations. It appears, that public opinion has already taken long since, and is now more than ever evidently taking that course, though its general manifestation is retarded by a fatal combination of political evils against which that unfortunate nation is struggling. The noblest pledge, the Italians can give, of their being ripe for more generous institutions, is the general moderation, the tolerant, conciliating spirit that reigns among them, though we are grieved to say that it is partly owing to the state of religious apathy into which they have fallen. When flagrant scandals and continual abuses are conspiring with a progressive culture and a restless inquisitiveness to dishearten the most imper turbable zeal,-when in the general relaxing of the bonds of prescription every man is obliged to come to partial exceptions and restrictions, to choose his own way, and form, as it were, a distinct sect by himself, he must easily know how to value the advantages of freedom of thought, and feel disposed to look upon the opinions of others with that same indulgence and impar tiality that he would fain claim for his own.

The church herself has been obliged to learn forbearance from her repeated discomfitures. The thunders of the Vatican are mute, like the craters of an extinguished volcano. The monk walks downcast and wo-begone. The crafty priest tries new ways to popularity by affecting liberality of maxims and libertinism of manners. In a great number of civil and literary associations all subjects leading to religious controversies are absolutely forbidden. Neither in private nor in public life is the individual any longer accountable for his conduct to the church or the government. Strange to say, that very country, where not long ago only one religion was tolerated, is now perhaps that, where more than in any other country it is permitted to profess no religion! Studies have also been emancipated from all religious despotism. The Italian universities are republican institutions in monarchical states. Except Turin, Genoa, and Modena, where the schools are under the detested rule of the Jesuits, young students are early directed to be the sole guides of their own consciences.

Such generous measures on the part of the Italian governments were called forth by the manifestation of analogous feelings among the different classes of the people. In fact, in that country, where the number of free-thinkers is so considerably extended, an apostle of infidelity is rarely to be found. Infidelity is there rather a fashion than a conviction. Catholicism

is spurned by the learned and refined, as something idiotic and vulgar. Its dogmas and mysteries are considered only as a salutary veil to blindfold the stupid monster with a million heads, that is called THE PEOPLE. Before the people therefore the skeptic represses his sneers, and leaves to the illiterate his illusions and superstitions, envying perhaps in the secrecy of his heart the peace and self-satisfaction, which those absurd rites seem to bestow on the believer, and which he cannot find in all the subtleties of his logic. On the other hand, the good Catholic shakes his head with compassion and charity, endeavors to disbelieve his own eyes, at the sight of so many of the noblest minds straying from the right path, and mutters between his teeth, that "the wisdom of man is but folly in the sight of God."

We have reviewed the work of Manzoni by thus examining the state of religious opinions in the country for which the book was intended. After what we have said, it will no longer be surprising if we add, that even the great name of its author is not sufficient to gain over readers to writings of this nature. The student will discard such a book after having read the title, without further examination, adding with a contemptuous smile, that "when a whim takes him of hearing a sermon, he knows very well how to go to church as other people do."*

And yet Manzoni's great genius and sound generous heart are manifest through every page of the volume; and it may be read with much edification even among Protestants, inasmuch as, having undertaken to defend the Catholic faith against the attacks of infidelity, his cause becomes, in great part, the cause of Christianity. But, as we have here and there remarked, he undertook to prove too much; and we are afraid that his book itself will stand as an indirect proof against Catholicism, as it must be confessed that a cause must be desperate indeed, in which even such an advocate as Manzoni has no chance of

success.

And is it then over indeed with Catholicism? Is the edifice of Constantine and Charlemagne, the throne of Alexander the Third, of Leo the Tenth, and Julius the Second, then crumbling to atorns? And shall the dust of time reach the proudest domes

*"Sa ella, padre mio, che quando mi viene la fantasia d'udire una predica, so benissimo andar in chiesa anch io, come gli altri."

Manzoni L. Promessi sposi Cap. 3.

of its thousand cathedrals, and bury the relics of its thousand saints, and the blood of its thousand martyrs? And must the flame that tempered the helmet and sword of the crusader, the spirit that swelled the sails of Columbus and Vasco de Gama, that inspired the genius of Tasso and Raphael be extinguished? Be it so; a long sequence of error and crimes have ripened a fate that has now reached its plenitude. But let generous souls be permitted to mourn over the fate of that Catholic system of faith and worship, for which the world will not soon agree upon a substitute. The visiter, musing over the remains of a feudal castle, trampling under his feet towers and battlements levelled to the ground, and arches, and monuments, and fragments of armor, cannot repress a pang of regret, as his fancy runs back to the days of greatness, of valor, and of courtesy that are no more; and in his chivalrous enthusiasm he forgets that from that rocky nest the bloody falcon rushed forth, the pirate of the air, the terror of the valley, and that while he wheeled his indefatigable course through the firmament, at every uttering of his ominous shriek, at every shaking of his mighty pinions, a harmless flock was quaking with anguish and terror within the inmost recesses of their foliage.

M.

ART. II.1. Historical Sketches of the Old Painters. By THE AUTHOR OF THREE EXPERIMENTS OF LIVING. Boston: Hilliard, Gray & Co. 1838. 2. Catalogue of the Twelfth Exhibition of Paintings at the Athenæum Gallery. Boston. 1838.

pp. 296.

HERE we have in the first of these volumes popular sketches of the lives, and some hints concerning the styles of those great artists, whose genius has so long thrilled the heart of Europe, and is year by year making itself more felt in our own country. The book is from the author of those little tracts on domestic life, which have enjoyed such a remarkable popularity, both here and in England. It may therefore be known beforehand to deserve attention. To those, indeed, who are conversant with Vasari, Condivi, Mengs, Lanzi, and the other biographers and

critics, it will not perhaps bring much instruction; but that large class of readers, who are not accustomed to refer to the original sources of information, will find in it interesting notices of men of whom they may have known little else than the names, and who are daily becoming more the subjects of our curiosity and admiration.

Leaving the book we turn to its subject, and wonder anew at the coming and departure of that brilliant era, which Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, and Coreggio illustrated. We look back to that age as to a temporary unveiling of heaven, and as we observe the splendid phenomena which there appear, we ask ourselves with eager curiosity, what were the causes of its coming, and whether we may hope to see such times again.

In order to make the inquiry, first, notice the general facts. In the beginning of the 16th century, there appeared in widely separated cities of Italy, under climates not the same, and very different governments, three men, who, without acquaintance with each other, or with each other's works, (for neither Raphael, Coreggio, nor Titian ever saw either of the others,) became, each in his own way, the greatest painters of the world. The same sudden and unparelleled development took place in a multitude of less distinguished men, under like various circumstances, and comprehending a great variety of character.

From what cause did this occur? This question has been answered differently. The result has been attributed by some to the patronage bestowed by the aristocracy and clergy of the time, and the anxiety of the Holy See to infuse new ardor into the lukewarm people by magnificent embellishments of its religious edifices. To this it might be answered that patronage only disturbs mean minds with turbulent hopes, while it is unnecessary to the magnanimous, so that the class to be benefited by it is only a small mediocrity; and secondly, that the history of the art shows us that some of the greatest painters were without it, and that many attained their excellence before they had enjoyed or expected it. Raphael was great before he was known, and he had no reason to expect the unparalleled favor which he came to enjoy. Coreggio was unhonored. Domenichino was despised. And for an example. of pecuniary remuneration, Annibal Caracci, in his palmy time spent nearly eight years in painting the palace of Cardinal Farnese, and was paid only five hundred dollars. It would be VOL. XXV. 3D S. VOL. VII. NO. III.

39

found that the most splendid rewards were reserved for the imitative talent of pupils of the deserving; but when genius had departed, the favor of the great could not recall it.

Besides, why did the patronage take this direction? Why did not the Pope and the nobles employ gilders and cabinet makers to embellish their houses? The existence of the patronage implies the prior existence of the taste in the minds of the patrons, and if in them, then also in the other intelligent classes, and when we have arrived at this, the patronage and the genius on which it is bestowed become coördinate manifestations of the same spirit.

Some attribute the splendid phenomena, for which we are endeavoring to account, to the genius of the Catholic religion, imaginative, dealing in sensible forms. But the same cause had been operating for ten centuries before, without producing the effect; the same religion continues, and no artists arise. This was by no means a period of enthusiastic faith in the church. On the contrary, it was the period of the Reformation, when men had learned to hate the church and despise the pontiffs; and nowhere, we are told, was reverence for the Holy See less than among the intelligent classes of its own dominions.

Was it the relics of ancient art that inspired the modern? It is true that, towards the end of the 15th century, the discovery of some of the finest specimens (as the Apollo and the Laocoon) rewarded the taste which sought them. But the soil of Italy had been strewn with beauty for ages. The Pantheon had stood through Gothic invasion and the ravages of Attila, and no one was found to clear the rubbish from its base. The Jupiter of the Capitol was melted into a Peter, and the Colosseum was torn to pieces to build a house for Prince Farnese. Undoubtedly these influences were operative, though secondary. Patronage fostered talent, and encouraged aptness to follow its bent. Inspiration dwelt in Catholicism, as well as in less corrupt forms, and ancient statues refined an already awakened taste. But we must look farther for the moving cause. And perhaps we shall arrive at nothing satisfactory till we come to the immediate providence of God. For frequently, to the thoughtful inquirer, it will seem that human affairs flow on in their appointed channel, while man floats like a bubble on the stream, a component part, but having no command over its direction. It will be satisfactory, however, to be