lks in Florence_, vol. i. p.
125.]

It mattered nothing to Michelangelo that he had so poor a subject for
a statue. It is supposed that he made no attempt at correct
portraiture in the figure. The insignificant Lorenzo was transformed
by the magic of his genius into a hero.

He wears a suit of Roman armor, in accordance with his career as a
general in the wars with the Duke of Urbino, whose title he took. His
helmet is pulled well forward over the brow, the head is bent, the
cheek rests upon the left hand, the elbow supported on a casket placed
on the knee. With finger laid thoughtfully upon the lips, he is
thinking intently. The right hand rests, palm out, against the knee in
a characteristic position of inaction.

[Illustration: LORENZO DE' MEDICI. _Church of S. Lorenzo, Florence._]

His mood is not that of a dreamer lost to his present surroundings.
Rather he seems to be keenly aware of what is going on; his
meditations have to do with the present. It is as if, having given an
order, he awaits its execution, his mind still intent upon his
purposes, satisfied with his decision, and calmly expectant of its
success. His affair is one of serious importance; no trifling matter
absorbs the thought of this grave man. "A king sits in this attitude
when, in the midst of his army, he orders the execution of some
judicial act, like the destruction of a city. Frederic Barbarossa must
have appeared thus when he caused Milan to be ploughed up."[30]

[Footnote 30: Taine, _Travels in Italy_.]

The lack of resemblance in the statue to the original duke Lorenzo
made it for a long time doubtful whether it was intended to be his
tomb. The Florentines, in their poetic way, fell into the habit of
calling it _Il Pensiero_, that is, Thought, or Meditation, sometimes
_Il Pensieroso_, The Thinker. These are, after all, the best names for
the statue, which is allegorical rather than historical in its
intention. The great English poet Milton has written a poem, which is
like a companion piece to the statue, fitting it as words sometimes
fit music. It begins in this way, in words which _Il Pensieroso_
himself might speak:--

"Hence, vain deluding Joys,
The brood of Folly, without father bred!
How little you bested,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys!
Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy shape possess,
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,
Or lik