now overflows. If she has sometimes felt a little lonely that in his
manhood he no longer needed her care, she forgets it now. He is still
her child.

The marble group by Michelangelo interprets such a moment for us. The
Italians call the subject the Pietà, which means compassion, but the
name scarcely expresses all the emotions of the mother. She seems
as strong and young as when she brooded over her babe in the Bethlehem
manger. "Purity enjoys eternal youth" was the sculptor's explanation
to those who objected.

[Illustration: THE PIETÀ _St. Peter's, Rome_]

Across her capacious, motherly lap lies the slender, youthful figure
of the dead Christ. The head falls back, and the limbs are relaxed in
death. Suffering has left no trace on his face. The nail prints in
hands and feet, and the scar in the side, are the only signs of his
crucifixion. The delicately moulded body is beautiful in repose.

The mother seems to find mysterious comfort in gazing upon her son.
Perhaps his death has opened her eyes to the meaning of his life. If
this is so, she cannot grieve. He has finished the work given him to
do, and death is the beginning of immortality. So sorrow gives place
to resignation. She is again the proud mother. The fond hopes with
which she watched his childhood have been more than fulfilled. She
extends her hand in a gesture which seems to say, "Behold and see."

It is said that certain Lombards, passing through the church where the
Pietà stood, ascribed the work to a Milanese sculptor named Cristoforo
Solari. Michelangelo, having overheard them, shut himself up in the