heir fidelity to outline, do not always give decisive evidence
regarding the materials employed.

One thing seems manifest. Michelangelo avoided those mixed methods
with which Lionardo, the magician, wrought wonders. He preferred an
instrument which could be freely, broadly handled, inscribing form in
strong plain strokes upon the candid paper. The result attained,
whether wrought by bold lines, or subtly hatched, or finished with the
utmost delicacy of modulated shading, has always been traced out
conscientiously and firmly, with one pointed stylus (pen, chalk, or
matita), chosen for the purpose. As I have said, it is the work of a
sculptor, accustomed to wield chisel and mallet upon marble, rather
than that of a painter, trained to secure effects by shadows and
glazings.

It is possible, I think, to define, at least with some approximation
to precision, Michelangelo's employment of his favourite vehicles for
several purposes and at different periods of his life. A broad-nibbed
pen was used almost invariably in making architectural designs of
cornices, pilasters, windows, also in plans for military engineering.
Sketches of tombs and edifices, intended to be shown to patrons, were
partly finished with the pen; and here we find a subordinate and very
limited use of the brush in shading. Such performances may be regarded
as products of the workshop rather than as examples of the artist's
mastery. The style of them is often conventional, suggesting the
intrusion of a pupil or the deliberate adoption of an office
mannerism. The pen plays a foremost part in all the greatest and most
genial creations of his fancy when it worked energetically in
preparation for sculpture or for fresco. The Louvre is rich in
masterpieces of this kind--the fiery study of a David; the heroic
figures of two male nudes, hatched into stubborn salience like pieces
of carved wood; the broad conception of the Madonna at S. Lorenzo in
her magnificent repose and passionate cascade of fallen draperies; the
repulsive but superabundantly powerful profile of a goat-like faun.
These, and the stupendous studies of the Albertina Collection at
Vienna, including the supine man with thorax violently raised, are
worked with careful hatchings, stroke upon stroke, effecting a
suggestion of plastic roundness. But we discover quite a different use
of the pen in some large simple outlines of seated female figures at
the Louvre; in thick, almost muddy, studies at Vienn