2.  Another most interesting family Madonna is that of Ludovico Sforza il Moro, painted for the church of Sant’ Ambrogio at Milan.[1] The Virgin sits enthroned, richly dressed, with long fair hair hanging down, and no veil or ornament; two angels hold a crown over her head.  The Child lies extended on her knee.  Round her throne are the four fathers, St. Ambrose, St. Gregory, St. Jerome, and St. Augustine.  In front of the throne kneels Ludovico il Moro, Duke of Milan, in a rich dress and unarmed; Ambrose, as protector of Milan, lays his hand upon his shoulder.  At his side kneels a boy about five years old.  Opposite to him is the duchess, Beatrice d’Este, also kneeling; and near her a little baby in swaddling clothes, holding up its tiny hands in supplication, kneels on a cushion.  The age of the children shows the picture to have been painted about 1496.  The fate of Ludovico il Moro is well known:  perhaps the blessed Virgin deemed a traitor and an assassin unworthy of her protection.  He died in the frightful prison of Loches after twelve years of captivity; and both his sons, Maximilian and Francesco, were unfortunate.  With them the family of Sforza and the independence of Milan were extinguished together in 1535.

[Footnote 1:  By an unknown painter of the school of Lionardo, and now in the gallery, of the Brera.]

3.  Another celebrated and most precious picture of this class is the Virgin of the Meyer family, painted by Holbein for the burgomaster Jacob Meyer of Basle.[1] According to a family tradition, the youngest son of the burgomaster was sick even to death, and, through the merciful intercession of the Virgin, was restored to his parents, who, in gratitude, dedicated this offering.  She stands on a pedestal in a richly ornamented niche; over her long fair hair, which falls down her shoulders to her waist, she wears a superb crown; and her robe of a dark greenish blue is confined by a crimson girdle.  In purity, dignity, humility, and intellectual grace, this exquisite Madonna has never been surpassed; not even by Raphael; the face, once seen, haunts the memory.  The Child in her arms is generally supposed to be the infant Christ.  I have fancied, as I look on the picture, that it may be the poor sick child recommended to her mercy, for the face is very pathetic, the limbs not merely delicate but attenuated, while, on comparing it with the robust child who stands below, the resemblance and the contrast are both striking.  To the right of the Virgin kneels the burgomaster Meyer with two of his sons, one of whom holds the little brother who is restored to health, and seems to present him to the people.  On the left kneel four females—­the mother, the grandmother, and two daughters.  All these are portraits, touched with that homely, vigorous truth, and finished with that consummate delicacy, which characterized Holbein in his happiest efforts; and, with their earnest but rather ugly and earthly faces, contrasting with the divinely compassionate and refined being who looks down on them with an air so human, so maternal, and yet so unearthly.