expressed more often in the slangs than in the tongues of men. The English
call it a fad. I do not know what the Italians call it; the Prussians call
it philosophy.

Here is the sort of instance that made me think of you. What would you feel
first, let us say, if I mentioned Michael Angelo? For the first moment,
perhaps, boredom: such as I feel when Americans ask me about
Stratford-on-Avon. But, supposing that just fear quieted, you would feel
what I and every one else can feel. It might be the sense of the majestic
hands of Man upon the locks of the last doors of life; large and terrible
hands, like those of that youth who poises the stone above Florence, and
looks out upon the circle of the hills. It might be that huge heave of
flank and chest and throat in "The Slave," which is like an earthquake
lifting a whole landscape; it might be that tremendous Madonna, whose
charity is more strong than death. Anyhow, your thoughts would be something
worthy of the man's terrible paganism and his more terrible Christianity.
Who but God could have graven Michael Angelo; who came so near to graving
the Mother of God?

German culture deals with the matter as follows:--"Michelangelo Buonarotti
(1475-1564).--(=Bernhard) ancestor of the family, lived in Florence about
1210. He had two sons, Berlinghieri and Buonarrota. By this name recurring
frequently in later generations, the family came to be called. It is a
German name, compounded of Bona (=Bohn) and Hrodo, Roto (=Rohde, Rothe)
Bona and Rotto are cited as Lombard names. Buonarotti is perhaps the old
Lombard Beonrad, corresponding to the word Bonroth. Corresponding names are
Mackrodt, Osterroth, Leonard." And so on, and so on, and so on. "In his
face he has always been well-coloured...the eyes might be called small
rather than large, of the colour of horn, but variable with 'flecks' of
yellow and blue. Hair and beard are black. These particulars are confirmed