re tantalized him with vain hopes of satisfying the Charybdis of his
soul's sick cravings. From point to point he passed of empty pleasure
and unsatisfying cruelty, forever hungry; until the malady of his
spirit, unrestrained by any limitations, and with the right medium for
its development, became unique--the tragic type of pathological desire.
What more than all things must have plagued a man with that face was
probably the unavoidable meanness of his career. When we study the
chapters of Suetonius we are forced to feel that, though the situation
and the madness of Caligula were dramatically impressive, his crimes
were trivial and small. In spite of the vast scale on which he worked
his devilish will, his life presents a total picture of sordid vice,
differing only from pothouse dissipation and school-boy cruelty in point
of size. And this of a truth is the Nemesis of evil. After a time, mere
tyrannous caprice must become commonplace and cloying, tedious to the
tyrant and uninteresting to the student of humanity; nor can I believe
that Caligula failed to perceive this to his own infinite disgust.

Suetonius asserts that he was hideously ugly. How are we to square this
testimony with the witness of the bronze before us? What changed the
face, so beautiful and terrible in youth, to ugliness that shrank from
sight in manhood? Did the murderers find it blurred in its fine
lineaments, furrowed with lines of care, hollowed with the soul's
hunger? Unless a life of vice and madness had succeeded in making
Caligula's face what the faces of some maniacs are--the bloated ruin of
what was once a living witness to the soul within--I could fancy that
death may have sanctified it with even more beauty than this bust of the
self-tormented young man shows. Have we not all seen the anguish of
thought-fretted faces smoothed out by the hands of the Deliverer?

FERRARI AT VERCELLI.

It is possible that many visitors to the Cathedral of Como have carried
away the memory of stately women with abundant yellow hair and draperies
of green and crimson in a picture they connect thereafter with Gaudenzio
Ferrari. And when they come to Milan they are probably both impressed
and disappointed by a Martyrdom of St. Catherine in the Brera, bearing
the same artist's name. If they wish to understand this painter they
must seek him at Varallo, at Saronno, and at Vercelli. In the Church of
S. Christoforo, in Vercelli, Gaudenzio Ferrari, at the full hei