was converted to Catholicism. Schelling wrote his Philosophy of Revelation; Görres, the editor of the Rothen Blut, ended as the author of the Christian Mystic.

Here set in the period of the Nazarenes. What Schlegel had said was to become true, that the German artist has either no character at all or he must have the character of the mediæval masters, true-hearted and thoughtful, innocent withal, and somewhat maladroit. In architecture the Hellenic school is succeeded by the Gothic, painting passes from the reverence of the Greek statues to that of old Italian pictures.

Seemann, Leipzig.Wigand, Leipzig.
JULIUS SCHNORR VON CAROLSFELD.SCHNORR.ADAM AND EVE AFTER THE FALL.

Rome remained for the Nazarenes, too, the centre of influence, only they no longer made pilgrimages, like the Classicists, to ancient but to Christian Rome. Overbeck of Lübeck came in 1810 with Pforr of Frankfort and Vogel of Zürich; the Düsseldorfer, Cornelius, followed in 1811, Schadow and Veit of Berlin in 1815, Schnorr von Carolsfeld of Leipzig in 1818, the Viennese Führich and Steinle in 1827 and 1828. In all of them there lived the perception that in such a serious age men should be of high moral endeavour, and art the expression of the religious capacity of their lives.

There still stands to-day, on a secluded hillock of the Monte Pincio a small church, whose façade is adorned with the statues of St. Isidore, the patron of husbandmen, and of St. Patrick, apostle of Ireland. A court with weather-beaten cloisters and an old well separates the church from the monastery which lies behind it, where the cells of the monks, Irish and Italian Franciscans, are placed. Above, on the terrace of the house, one has a charming view of Rome and the Campagna, of Monte Cavo and the heights of Tusculum. Below stretch the gardens of the Capucin Convent, and farther back the grounds and avenues of the Villa Ludovisi. On the first floor is a large hall, the walls of which have been decorated by the hand of some old monk with frescoes, and which, formerly a refectory, is used to-day as a theological lecture-room. This was the room where Overbeck and his friends in the first period after their arrival stood for one another as models. Lethière, the director of the French Academy, had obtained permission for them to install themselves in the deserted rooms of the monastery of San Isidoro, which had been spared by Napoleon, for which they paid the small sum of three scudi monthly.

JOSEPH FÜHRICH.   Graphische Kunst.

“We led a truly monastic life,” relates Overbeck; “held ourselves aloof from all, and lived only for art. In the morning we marketed together; at midday we took it in turns to cook our dinner, which was composed of nothing but a soup and a pudding, or some tasty vegetable, and was seasoned only by earnest conversation on art.” Overbeck, as a good housekeeper, kept accounts; the principal items of the daily outlay occurred for polenta and risotto, oranges and lemons; every now and then oil, too, was noted down. The afternoons were dedicated to the study of the creations of art in Rome. With “beating hearts and holy awe” they passed over the threshold of the Stanze. In the chapel of San Lorenzo they became “familiar with the seraphic Fiesole, whose frescoes transcend everything in purity of conception.” They shunned the paganism of St. Peter’s, and marvelled with all the more intimate devotion at the old Christian monuments. The churches of San Lorenzo and San Clemente, the cloisters of St. John Lateran and St. Paul’s-without-the-Walls, made an ineffaceable impression upon the young men. At the twilight hour they wandered up on to Monte Cavo. “And of evenings we drew studies of drapery—glorious folds!—from Pforr’s big Venetian mantle, in which we took turns to pose for one another.” Their whole hearts, however, first swelled when they undertook a journey to Tuscany. In Orvieto, Luca Signorelli awaited them, whose frescoes especially impressed Cornelius mightily. At Sienna they found teachers who were still more sympathetic to them, Duccio and Simone Martino, those masters of a tender, intimate spirit and a charming sweetness of expression. In the Campo Santo at Pisa they turned their attention to Fiesole’s pupil, Gozzoli. Those became their great teachers in art. “Just as ardent Christians wander to the grave of the princes of the apostles in order to confirm their faith and quicken their zeal, so should zealous young artists derive strength and illumination from the silent and yet so eloquent speech of the sublime geniuses of art. An artist of real worth will find in the masterpieces of painting at Rome everything necessary for him in order to reach the right path. But, to be sure, a well-made plait of hair does not certainly constitute one a Raphael, because Raphael, too, arranged his hair with feeling. Study alone leads to nothing. If since Raphael’s age, as one can almost declare, there has been no painter, that is the fault of nothing else than of the fact that art has been vanquished by workmanship. One learnt at the academies to paint excellent drapery, to draw a correct figure, learnt perspective, architecture—in short, everything, and yet no painter was produced. There is one want in all recent painting—heart, soul, sentiment. Let the young painter then watch, before everything, over his sentiments: let him allow neither an impure word on his lips nor an impure thought in his mind. But how can he guard himself from that? By religion, by study of the Bible, the one and only study which made Raphael. This view now certainly contradicts the accustomed principles that everything must be systematically learnt; mere learning produces certainly an instructed but also a cold artist. On that ground it is not good either to study anatomy from dead bodies, because one dwarfs thereby certain fine sensibilities, or to work from female models, for the same reason. Let the painter be inspired by his subject as those of old were, and the result will be the same. Like those old painters, let every artist remind himself that the truest use of art is that which leads it heavenwards, its one function that of having a moral effect upon men.” “How pure and holy,” cries Cornelius to Xeller, as late as 1858, “was the end at which we aimed! Unknown, without encouragement, without aid, except that of our loving Father in heaven.”

FÜHRICH.  FROM THE “LEGEND OF ST. GWENDOLIN.”

It is obvious that between the ascetics of the monastery and the Classicists direct friction must ensue. To them the “ever repeated and pale reflexions of Greek sculpture” said nothing, while the Classicists scoffed at the religionists, for whom the sarcastic brawler, Reinhart, invented the nickname of “Nazarenes,” which has since become a watchword. The opposition was historically immortalised when Bunsen, the Prussian envoy, invited the whole colony to the christening of his little daughter, and Niebuhr touched glasses with Thorwaldsen “to the health of old Jupiter.” Only Cornelius joined in; the others started and looked upon the young Düsseldorfer as a heretic.