s which Michelangelo designed.
Instead of taking its place as one among eight corresponding and
counterbalancing giants, it is isolated, thrust forward on the eye;
whereas it was intended to be viewed from below in concert with a
scheme of balanced figures, male and female, on the same colossal
scale.

Condivi writes not amiss, in harmony with the gusto of his age, and
records what a gentle spirit thought about the Moses then: "Worthy of
all admiration is the statue of Moses, duke and captain of the
Hebrews. He sits posed in the attitude of a thinker and a sage,
holding beneath his right arm the tables of the law, and with the left
hand giving support to his chin, like one who is tired and full of
anxious cares. From the fingers of this hand escape long flowing lines
of beard, which are very beautiful in their effect upon the eye. The
face is full of vivid life and spiritual force, fit to inspire both
love and terror, as perhaps the man in truth did. He bears, according
to the customary wont of artists while portraying Moses, two horns
upon the head, not far removed from the summit of the brows. He is
robed and girt about the legs with hosen, the arms bare, and all the
rest after the antique fashion. It is a marvellous work, and full of
art: mostly in this, that underneath those subtleties of raiment one
can perceive the naked form, the garments detracting nothing from the
beauty of the body; as was the universal way of working with this
master in all his clothed figures, whether painted or sculptured."

Except that Condivi dwelt too much upon the repose of this
extraordinary statue, too little upon its vivacity and agitating
unrest, his description serves our purpose as well as any other. He
does not seem to have felt the turbulence and carnal insolence which
break our sense of dignity and beauty now.

Michelangelo left the Moses incomplete in many details, after bringing
the rest of the figure to a high state of polish. Tooth-marks of the
chisel are observable upon the drapery, the back, both hands, part of
the neck, the hair, and the salient horns. It seems to have been his
habit, as Condivi and Cellini report, to send a finished statue forth
with some sign-manual of roughness in the final touches. That gave his
work the signature of the sharp tools he had employed upon it. And
perhaps he loved the marble so well that he did not like to quit the
good white stone without sparing a portion of its clinging strength