tion of that period art was neglected and mosaic-work abandoned, not to be resumed again, except by some Greek artists in Sicily, till the twelfth or thirteenth century. Meanwhile a few frescoes, much ruined or restored, attest the slow progress of wall-painting. These frescoes are so called because executed upon fresh, damp plaster, in colors mixed with water and some glutinous substances. Some of them, of not later date than the eighth or ninth century, are still found in the lower church of St. Clement, Rome. Among them is a "Crucifixion," with the Virgin and St. John standing beside the cross. But it is very unsatisfactory to inspect these by the dim light of wax-tapers, and the only time when they can be seen to advantage is at the illumination of the church on the festival of the saint. Curious though almost obliterated frescoes are also traceable in the little chapel of San Sylvestro, Rome. One of them is a "Crucifixion," "where an angel is taking off the crown of thorns, and putting on a real crown -an incident nowhere else introduced in art." Wall and ceiling paintings, dating about 1200, exist in the baptistery at Parma. But such early frescoes are generally so injured and defaced that we can searcely judge of their excellence. More interesting are the twelfth-century Roman mosaics of Santa Maria in Trastevere, and the upper church of St. Clement, as well as rich mosaics of the thirteenth century, still brilliant in color, in the churches of the Lateran and Santa Maria Maggiore, executed by Jacobus Torriti. In those of Santa Maria Maggiore is said to be the earliest example of the Coronation of the Virgin. The family of the Cosmati were also celebrated mosaists at Rome during the thirteenth century. About the same period Andrea Tafi became renowned at 31 Florence, and adorned the baptistery of that city with mosaics of great merit, which still shine along the entire height of the dome. Gaddo Gaddi, and other Tuscan artists, worked in the same building. Vasari commences his lives of the painters with a biography of Tafi, and grows ardent in his praise. There is little, however, calculated to interest the reader of to-day except his labors as a mosaist, and the fact. that he first represented angels playing on the violin, and first painted the outsides of cabinets for the reception of bridal gifts. The thirteenth century witnessed the great revival of Italian art by Cimabue; yet he had not been without predecessors, who had striven, according to their small abilities, to infuse some force and beauty into the old Byzantine types. But their names and their works have mostly perished, and posterity is well able to bear the loss. The earliest mentioned are one Giovanni, who flourished in 960, and Petrolino, who is reported to have lived about the year 1100. The different Italian cities each aspired to produce a school of painting, rendering more or less honor and patronage to their artists, who began to form themselves into societies or "guilds," soon to grow renowned and profitable. Sienna seemed at first to give the highest promise of excellence. She encouraged art with much liberality and discretion, and took care not only of the prosperity but of the respectability of her architects and painters, who were, for the most part, gentle, contemplative, and holy. No immoral person was allowed to work upon her magnificent cathedral then building. Purity and delicacy, faith and joy, were the characteristics principally sought. Lord Lindsay speaks of the drooping bend of the neck of their Madonnas, so humble and so meek; of the caressing intercourse between the Virgin and the Child; of their rich yet simple coloring, and their love for flowers and birds and every thing sweet, and pure, and fresh, in creation. The city was devoted to the Virgin, and she was of course the painters' chief subject. It is of interest to examine the pictures of this school, kept in the Siennese Academy; but to our educated eyes they will seem stiff and feeble, and still bound by the old Byzantine trammels so destructive to beauty. The drawing of hands and feet was also a hopeless problem to the artists of that day. Guido of Sienna is the first well-authenticated personage in the history of Italian painting. They show you, in the church of San Domenico, his "Enthroned Madonna," heavily draped and seated under an arch, with three angels hovering above her. The infant Saviour, in robes of yellow and gold, is in her lap, and holds up two fingers of his little hand in the attitude of benediction universally adopted. The flesh-tints are not quite so dark as among the Greeks, but they can scarcely be called much fairer than olive-green. At the bottom of the panel is this inscription in Latin, with the date 1221: "I, Guido of Sienna, upon whose soul may Christ have mercy, In the early school of Pisa, Nicolo Pisano produced as wonderful a revolution in sculpture as Cimabue and Giotto in painting. Sculpture was therefore its favorite department, leaving pictorial art less practised; but reliable mention is made of one Giunta Pisano, who is said to have painted about 1230, in the church of St. Francis at Assisi. Some halfobliterated frescoes are there ascribed to him, especially a "Crucifixion," in which a dead Christ, of a repulsive Byzantine type, rises above a crowd of grave and motionless figures, arranged as in ancient congregations-the men on one side, the women on the other. At the foot of the cross is a muchdamaged figure of St. Francis. He executed at the same time a small, full-length, mild-faced figure of St. Francis, which is now preserved in the sacristy of the church, and has almost the authenticity of a portrait. A little panel picture, also ascribed to Giunta, very old, very black, and very ugly, is in the Dresden Gallery. It will not excite a burning desire in the beholder for a further research into his works. A family of artists, called the Berlinghieri, dwelt at Lucca in the commencement of the thirteenth century, but most of the primitive Lucca paintings are only crucifixes, after the most disagreeable models. St. Francis was also an occasional subject for their brush; but the peculiar devotee of this saint was Margaritone of Arezzo, born in 1236. He was, moreover, an architect and sculptor, and his native city Arezzo still preserves some efforts of his skill, all in Byzantine taste and style. He has an altar-piece in the English Gallery, representing "the Virgin and Child in an elliptical glory, supported by angels, with the symbols of the evangelists; and, on the sides, scenes from the lives of St. John, St. Benedict, St. Catharine, and St. Margaret." The complexions are dusky bronze, with vermilion spotted cheeks. According to Vasari, he died aged seventy-seven. Into this faint twilight dawning of a day of beauty and progress was born, in 1240, Giovanni Cimabue. He was a 34 native of Florence, and of a proud and noble family. His own character is reported to have been haughty and disdainful, yet lofty in aim and patient in labor. He could not brook a fault in his pictures, but aspired far beyond the attainments of his age, and achieved a fame which, according to his enthusiastic biographer Vasari, entitles him to be called the "father of modern painting." This reputation may seem to rest upon slight foundations; but we must remember that what now appears to us painful feebleness and formalism in art, and crudeness in color, was then a daring advance upon all received standards. Until the time of Cimabue, painting had never been considered as in any real sense an imitation of Nature. It is true that under his hands it did not proceed very far in this direction, but he at least perceived the ideal, though it was reserved for his pupil Giotto to illustrate, both by precept and example, the new theory of art. Cimabue changed the Byzantine system of color, and introduced another method of flesh-tints, giving warm shadows, and a light instead of a dark undertone. He also emancipated draperies from their Greek rigidity, and caused them, though still voluminous, to fall in more natural and tasteful folds. He avoided the round eyes of his predecessors, and gave a faint touch of sweetness and grandeur to the severe and repulsive faces which had formerly disfigured both Virgin and saints. His knowledge of perspective was of course small, of anatomy still less, and kindness forbids us to allude to his attempted hands and feet; but the soul of the picture began to struggle through, and art was no longer mechanical. Whether he had been instructed by Greek masters is a disputed question, but he must at least have studied their paint |