Michael
Angelo's Medici figures, and indeed, his other famous works, are not
so unequivocably good; the effigies superimposing the sarcophagi are,
for brief instance, "pillowy," though they may be more anatomic. The
suavity of nature's hypo-refined grace is not traceable in their easy
posture. The fact is, that they pose for something; generally their
own animal idiosyncrasy, if not respectable vanity. Stevens's figures,
on the contrary, always for their own decency, which throws into the
core, the heart of the monument such an expression of beauty, giving
rise to the word innate, quenching the sense of frivolity, which
unrestrained, disordered state of things oozes out somewhere, or is at
any rate felt "in the air" in Michael Angelo's works. Stevens's head
was wonderfully poised on his own "torso" to know and feel this with
such thrilling, vital, consistent certainty. You catch awhile his
lovely idea in the strong fragrant symmetry permeating his work. The
iron soul of the man implants his lines of strength far inside
the actual bounds of the visible crust, and the mind of the idea,
naturally expanding is caught at the salient "processes" in curves
and features, betokening nothing--that touches--but grace.
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