brooding figure of “Lorenzo of Urbino” or the “Night,” which Michael Angelo sculptured beneath the figure of Giuliano, but the melodious dreams that floated from the brush of a Correggio. At this very time Allegri was at work upon the decoration of the great chamber of the Abbess of the Convent of St. Paul, Parma. He chose to depict no titanic forms charged with emotion, but covered his ceiling with a vast trellis of vine-leaves and fruit, and in the oval apertures which these formed he placed his groups of genii toying with the implements of the chase. Correggio’s was _the_ manner of his time. His end was sensuous delight and through it, not the dramatic, but the lyrical note, continually sounds. [Illustration: MICHAEL ANGELO NIGHT] [Illustration: DAWN From The Medici Chapel, Florence] But Michael Angelo was too true a man to dole out lies which should pander to a joyous carelessness. It was his task to echo, not one emotion, but all the emotions which had stirred the Italy of his age. As a mere boy he had seen the men and women who flocked to the Duomo at Florence to listen to the denunciations of Savonarola. He had seen them pass from the Church speechless—“more dead than alive”—because of the great fear which was upon them. Before he was twenty, he had witnessed the coming of the “Scourge,” which the fate had foretold. Then he had passed to “the Eternal City,” the home of the Princes of the Church, the centre of Christendom, only to find that, to borrow Symonds’s phrase, “the very popes rose from the beds of harlots to unlock or bolt the gates of heaven and purgatory.” It has been said that Michael Angelo worked upon the Medici tombs during the siege of Florence in 1528. He may have been carving these marbles when the artillery of a Medicean army was actually thundering against the Florence that Lorenzo had made immortal. As his thoughts were thrown back by his subject upon his boyhood days, memories of Savonarola—the Jeremiah of the Renaissance—must have come back in a flood. Well may the sculpture in the sacristy of San Lorenzo have been termed “Marble griefs, Hewn from a Titan’s heart.”