should make it the dearest and most delightful spot on earth; but to do this, she must have some plan for co-operation or simplification, which shall keep her body vigorous, her mind bright, and her soul turned toward the sun of righteousness. Thus she may have judgment, patience, sympathy, vivacity, tact, and make her home a little heaven below. "But there, child! I've preached you quite a sermon, and you look tired now, and THE HORNS OF MICHAEL ANGELO'S MOSES. DURING the great Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia, the question was repeatedly asked as to the statue of Moses, by Michael Angelo: "Why has it horns on its head? What is their meaning? Why did the great sculptor place them there?" And few, if any, were able to answer the query. Before replying to it, it may be interesting to turn for a few moments to the history and character of the statue itself. The statue of Moses, by Michael Angelo, is one of the acknowledged wonders of the sculptor's art, and esteemed by many as perhaps the noblest specimen of statuary the world has ever seen. It is in the church of St. Peter in Chains, (San Pietro in Vineulo,) which stands on the Esquiline, not far from the Baths of Titus. This church is one of the eight smaller Basilicas of Rome and its vicinity. It is the "Basilica Eudoxiana" of the ecclesiastical writers, and was built A. D. 442, during the pontificate of Leo the Great, by Eudoxia, the wife of Valentinian III., to receive and keep the chains with which St. Peter was bound at Jerusalem. It was repaired by Pelagius I., A. D. 555; rebuilt by Adrian I., in the eighth century; restored, A. D. 1503, by Julius II., from the designs of Baccio Pintelli; and in 1705 was reduced to its present form by Francesco Fontana. The chains of St. Peter, the largest and heaviest of which is five feet in length, are kept in the chapel, and are exhibited to spectators on the first Monday of every Lent. The chief object of interest in this church, in addition to its architecture, is the Moses of Michael Angelo. It was origi inally intended to form a part of the magnificent tomb of Julius II., the plan of which was so grand and imposing that it is said to have induced that pope to undertake the rebuilding of St. Peter's. Michael Angelo's design was that of a parallelogram, to be surmounted by forty statues, and covered with bas-reliefs and other ornaments. The colossal statue of Moses was to have been placed upon it, and to have been one of four corresponding figures of similar magnificence and size. These figures were designed to represent Active Life, Contemplative Life, St. Paul and Moses. Only the last of the four was completed; and that by Michael Angelo's own hand. It was when making the model for this that the great sculptor said to the warrior Pope, "Would it not be well, Holy Father, to put a book in the hand?" "Put a sword," was the answer of the fiery Julius; "I know nothing of letters." The vicissitudes of this monument form one of the curious chapters in the history of art. The quarrel of Michael Angelo with Julius suspended its progress for two years; but on his reconciliation to the Pope the great sculptor returned to Rome, and continued his work upon it till the death of Julius, A. D. 1513. It was then suspended during the greater part of the reign of Leo X., and was not fairly resumed until after his death. On account of all these interruptions the original design was never fully carried out. Michael Angelo, at the time of his death, as already said, had only completed the statue of Moses, and of two other figures, supposed to represent Religion and Virtue; and these were placed, not in the Basilica of St. Peter, as originally intended, but in their present comparatively obscure position, while two of the figures of the slaves which were designed to serve as caryatides to the monument are now in the Louvre at Paris, and a third is in the Boboli gardens at Florence. These facts are to be borne in mind, because the Moses is by no means so advantageously seen as it would have been if surrounded by the intended and varied accessories of a finished mouument. "There are few works of art," says Murray, "which have been more severely criticised than this. But in spite of all that has been advanced, it is impossible not to be struck with its commanding expression and colossal proportions. The hands and arms are extremely fine, and rival the grandest productions of the Grecian chisel." And, says Forsyth: "Here sits the Moses of Michael Angelo, frowning with the terrific eyebrows of the Olympian Jove. Homer and Phidias, indeed, placed their god on a golden throne; but Moses is cribbed into a niche, like a prebendary in his stall. One critic compares his head to that of a goat; and another his dress to that of a galley slave. But the true sublime resists all ridicule. The offended lawgiver frowns on, unrepressed, and awes you with his inherent authority." In similar terms Vasazi says of this great work of the great sculptor: "The colossal statue of Moses is seated, holding the law in his hand, and stroking his long beard which flows over his breast. On his head, which is slightly turned to the left, are the two horns ascribed to him by tradition, which spring from his thick hair, exactly resembling those of a young calf or goat. Perhaps Michael Angelo, like all his contemporary artists, was in love with the ancient mythology, and wished to give Moses the symbols of the god Pan-the great All, who metaphorically represented all nature, embracing all creatures, and who was at that time confounded with the Egyptian Osiris. Or he may have intended to produce a portrait of his lamented master, Savonarola, whose face somewhat resembled that of a goat, and whose peculiar eyes were called goat's eyes (occhi caprini) by his contemporaries." So, also, we find Viardot, in his "Wonders of Sculpture," translated by D'Anvers, saying of the Moses: "It is the author's masterpiece of sculpture, and probably also the masterpiece of all modern statuary. Taken as a whole, it is the grandest and most admirable emblem of strength, severity, and power, ever produced; and never have those various qualities which give authority, and constitute the superiority of one man over his fellows, been so fully expressed. His irresistible glance seems to be overawing a mutinous people, and reducing them to submission at his feet. He is, indeed, the stern legislator of 'the Hebrews, armed with the terrible law. I do not believe that, celebrated as they were in antiquity, the Jupiter Olympius, the Juno of Sarmos, or the Minerva of Athens were more majestic, more fearful, or better calculated to inspire the populace with terror and religious awe." And so, again, Wilson, translating the life of Michael Angelo by Gotti, and speaking of this unequalled creation even of his genius, says of the Moses: "He is seated, but his attention is roused by something that startles and stirs him, and he grasps his robe with one hand, and with the other nervously clutches his ample beard, and is about to spring to his feet, but pauses for an instant, while he gazes on the objects of his displeasure with a look in which indignation and contempt are mingled, and yet which may be changed into a glance of compassion. Language must fail in any attempt to convey a true idea of the sublimity of this great work of modern sculpture. That it places Michael Angelo far above all modern professors of his art, is undeniable, while it entitles him to a niche on an equal level with the greatest sculptors of the ancient world." And he adds: "The horns, on which criticisms are frequently made, are in their unfinished state, and it is impossible now to say what Michael Angelo meant to make of them." as In Grimm's Life of Michael Angelo, speaking of the Moses, he says: "From the lifeless marble his spirit beams mightily upon us as does the sunny brightness of ancient Greece, with its mysterious charm, from the old statues of Athens. It contains in itself enough to rank it among the most magnificent monuments which ever protected the memory of man from oblivion. The more we examine it, the more majestic does it appear." But this author, again, gives no explanation of the horns. In similar strains the statue of Moses is spoken of by all the biographers of Michael Angelo; by Black, and Duppa, and Taylor, and Harford; and by many others, in sketches or notices of his life and works. Every traveler who has seen it is loud in his praises of this wonderful statue, and every treatise on the masterpieces of statuary gives it the highest rank among works of its kind. But every one asks: "Why has it horns? Why such unnatural and strange excrescences on the most striking and majestic head that the genius of statuary has ever given to the world?" And no one, so far as we have seen, has fully answered this question. One writer says, "We are puzzled by the mysterious pair of horns, which the custom of the age assigned to the great lawgiver of the chosen people." Another intimates that "as Savonarola was thought to look somewhat like a goat, the horns of that animal were given to Moses by Michael Angelo as an indirect flattery of his patron and friend." Still another says: "The origin of the horns, so common in the representation of Moses, not only in this statue, but also in paintings, has been the subject of many disquisitions;" and then, after coming quite near to the true explanation, he goes on to say, that many "have sought in the Greek mythology, the reason why Pan lends his pagan horns to Moses." And still another, of no mean reputation as a professor of painting and sculpture in our own country, after speaking to his class of the Moses as a most marvelous work of both genius and art, says: "But you may ask, as so many do, why the statue has horns. Because," he replies, "Moses was so great a man that he must have horns, just as man has a beard when a woman has none!" So far-fetched and unsatisfactory are all the attempted explanations! What, then is the true explanation? Why did Michael Angelo put the horns on the head of his Moses? The answer is found in a wrong translation, by Jerome, from the Hebrew into the Latin Vulgate, which is the accepted Bible of the Roman church. In our English version of the Bible, three times in the book of Exodus, (Chap. xxxiv., 29, 30, 35,) it is said, that when Moses came down from the mount, "his face shone;" and the common impression probably is that his face was all over radiant, as if rubbed with phosphorus in a dark night. The Hebrew language, however, like almost all of very early date, is in many respects what may be called an object language; that is, its terms are not so much abstract, as taken from and expressive of visible forms. And the Hebrew word here used is a word expressive of shape, and signifying both a horn and a pencil of light; for as the horn of the oriental buffalo and a pencil of light were both conical in shape, the same word was used for each. It is the same word that is used in Habakkuk, (Chap. iii., 3 and 4,) where it is said: "God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran; and his glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise; and his brightness was as the light; and he had horns coming out of his hand;" where the version should have been, "His very hands radiated light, or had rays— pencils of light streaming forth from them." Now Jerome, in translating the passage from the Hebrew of Exodus, made the Latin Vulgate say of Moses, as he came down from the mount, that his face, or head, was horned, or had horns on it, when he should have translated it," His very face, or head, radiated light," sending forth its beams to the view of all Israel. In each of the three verses in Exodus the same word is used by Jerome in his version. In the 29th verse he makes it read, "When Moses came down as as he naturally would to the book of Exodus for a description of the appearance of Moses, and found that the verses we have quoted described him as horned, or having horns, then, to be true to the language of Scripture, he put these horns on the head of his statue of the great lawgiver of Israel. So strangely may one wrong translation mystify and mislead for ages interpreters as well as artists! Tryon Edwards. THE TYRANNY OF MOOD. I. MORNING. IT is enough: I feel, this golden morn, Hath right of rapture more, when skies adorn Of God's good world,-my being to its brim Through rush of tears that leaves the landscape dim,— II. NIGHT. I press my cheek against the window-pane, A darkness darker than the murk whose trace As yon cloud-blotted hills: hopes that shone bright Thou hast for me one gleam of gladness more!" Margaret J. Preston. CHAPTER V. FISHERS OF MEN. BY S. T. JAMES. IT was as Madam Arkwright had predicted. Peril was at hand. The dull times that had prevailed for several months had been the excuse for every act, whether of prudence or of injustice, which had marked the relations between masters and workmen. It was hard times, and hours must be shortened, wages cut down, men discharged; masters must put their heads together to agree upon some course of action which would render their common interests secure. It was hard times and the workmen who had to feed their families received less wages, yet seemed to be paying as much as ever for rent, for fuel, and for provisions. They too met together, men of the same craft, and men of kindred minds, and considered by what combination they could make their demands stronger and better respected. The logic which prevailed was the logic of necessity. Everything was turned into an argument by the workman for an increase of wages, and by the employer for an diminution of wages. Upon the employer the banks and creditors kept up a pressure; upon the workman the petty bills of tradesmen. Each thought himself ill-used, and each looked to the other for relief; the employer demanded the same work for less wages, the workman more wages for the same work, and unfortunately as it seemed, since both were powerless to control it, more work was the common demand of both. Each professed to see the other's interest and to argue from that point; the workman showing the employer that higher wages would secure better work and give him the advantage in competition, the employer showing the workman that it was wiser for him to work at short wages, than to be cut off from work altogether. Yet each insisted that the other did not put himself in his neighbor's place, the workman complaining that the employer was only greedy and intent on making his profit whether or no, the employer complaining that the workman ran no risks and ignored the employer's labor in finding work for him to do. There seemed in this controversy no common meeting ground; each saw in the other an antagonist, and the longer the discussion continued the more positively did each entrench himself in his position. "I wish," said Arkwright, explaining the situation to Pastorius one day, "that there was some even-handed power above us both, to whom we could refer our disputes for decision." "Then you are not satisfied with the laws of trade, with the eternal principle of supply and demand?" "Supply and demand are the excuse of man's selfishness," said Arkwright warmly. "When you analyze the law you find that it is the operation of circumstances over which man has but selfishly refuses to exercise control, pleading that he cannot move nature. Supply and demand he calls laws of nature; they are laws of fallen human nature, and are not final." "What do you purpose doing?" "Follow my destiny; or if that sounds heathenish, follow the leadings of Providence; though I doubt if one phrase differs much from the other in practical effect in people's minds. I do not see a way out of this difficulty, but I hope to keep myself from injustice, though the heavens fall. Yet I begin to think that the greatest injustice of all to my men is for me to remain at my post." "The man that deliberates at such a time is lost," replied Pastorius. "I cannot advise you in such matters. There is only one principle which I conceive to be equally applicable to master and workman at this or at any time. It is for each to say, 'My duty and your right.'" The crisis came in a formal demand of the workmen for a restoration of the old tariff of wages. The demand came at the close of the working hours of a Monday, and an answer was asked at nine o'clock the next morning. Somewhat to Arkwright's |