Average One Directory 18

The chief characteristics of Sofonisba's painting were grace and spirit. Her portrait of herself when at her best is in possession of the Lomellini. A second is the splendid picture at Althorpe, in which she is represented as playing the harpsichord. One can scarcely imagine a place in which a portrait would be more severely tested than in the gallery of the Earl of Spencer, beside portraits of lovely women and famous men, painted by master artists. Yet this work of Sofonisba's is praised by discerning critics and connoisseurs. Of the other portraits of herself, that in the Uffizi is signed by her as "of Cremona," which suggests that it was painted before she went to Spain. That in the Vienna Gallery is dated 1551, and inscribed Sophonisba Anguissola. Virgo. Sc. Ipsam Fecit. Still another, in which a man stands beside her, is in the Sienna Gallery. He holds a brush in his hand, and is probably one of her masters.

Now there is a hard and bitter fact of life, very different from the story of the fenland. I am not going to argue about it or discuss it, because to trace the threads of it back into life entangles one at once helplessly in a dreadful series of problems: namely, how it comes to pass that a calamity, grievous and intolerable beyond all calamities in its pain and sorrow and waste, a strife abhorred and dreaded by all who are concerned in it, fruitful in every shade of misery and wretchedness, should yet have come about so inevitably and relentlessly. No one claims to have desired war; all alike plead that it is in self-defence that they are fighting, and maintain that they have laboured incessantly for peace. Yet the great mills of fate are turning, and grinding out death and shame and loss. Everyone sickens for peace, and yet any proposal of peace is drowned in cries of bitterness and rage. The wisest spend their time in pointing out the blessings which the conflict brings. The mother hears that the son she parted with in strength and courage is mouldering in an unknown grave, and chokes her tears down. The fruit of years of labour is consumed, lands are laid desolate, the weak and innocent are wronged; yet the great war-engine goes thundering and smashing on, leaving hatred and horror behind it; and all the while men pray to a God of mercy and loving-kindness and entreat His blessing on the work they are doing.

• Grace Park
• Grace Park Forum
• Grace Park
• Grace Park Forum
• Grace Park

This page is Copyright © Average One and all rights are reserved. Please don't copy without proper authorization. References to other Web sites are not endorsements. Average One provides no assurances, assurities, or warranties, warrantees, guarantees, or promises concerning the quality or content of other sites for which Average-01 provides links. The links you find on Average-01 are only provided for reference, information, and simple use and do not in any way constitute endorsements or recommendations.