:VHRSII \LIFORN 
 
 THE LIBRAi-- 
 
 BENJAMIN PARKE AVERY. 
 
 y 
 
 Accessions M>. (P 3t(p\) 
 
 GIFT OF MRS. AVERY. 
 
 1806. 
 
 Oast 
 
THE OLD MASTERS. 
 
 THE 
 
 PRINCES OF ART 
 
 I 
 PAINTERS, SCULPTORS, 
 
 AND 
 
 ENQRAVERS. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. S. R. URBINO. 
 
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 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
 
 8. R. URBINO. 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 ELECTROTTPED AT THE 
 
 BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 
 
 19 Spring Lane. 
 
 Cambridge : Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 
 
U1I7BRSITY 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 THE FIN^ ARTS. 
 
 A FEW remarks upon the Fine Arts may not be 
 out of place in a work like this, which treats of the 
 lives and productions of eminent artists. 
 
 All sorts of works are arts, properly speaking, and 
 those in which the mind is mostly engaged, are the 
 fine arts. The more mechanical are those of unques- 
 tionable utility, and the perfection to which they are 
 carried constitutes the measure of civilization, of in- 
 dustry and wealth, of a people. The others, although 
 their chief object is embellishment, not only render 
 him who cultivates them with success illustrious, but 
 also the city where he was born, and the nation to 
 which he belongs. 
 
 "The fine arts," says an ancient author, "arc the 
 children of genius ; nature is their model, and taste 
 their teacher. Simplicity ought to form their chief 
 characteristic, for they become corrupted when they 
 degenerate into luxury and show. Our own feelings 
 
 1 (!) 
 
2 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 lead to correct judgment 'in the fine arts : they lose 
 their effect if they speak only to the mind, but they 
 triumph when they touch the heart." 
 
 Architecture, Sculpture, Painting, Engraving, Music, 
 and Poetry, are known under the name of fine arts. 
 
 ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ARCHITECTURE is the art of building. As soon as 
 man felt the need of sheltering himself from the in- 
 jurious effects of the air, and defending himself against 
 ferocious animals, he sought to construct a habitation. 
 Therefore it is evident that the origin of architecture 
 dates back to the earliest times. The Bible says that 
 Cain built a city, after the death of his brother Abel, 
 and it mentions the cities of Nineveh and Babylon, 
 founded by Nimrod the hunter, great grandson of 
 Noah. The Egyptians perfected the art; but the 
 Greeks were the first to unite the rules of this art, 
 form a method, and furnish fine models to posterity. 
 
 The Tuscans, the Romans, then the French and 
 the Italians, had celebrated architects, and constructed 
 magnificent monuments. Every nation, according to 
 its taste or genius, added to, or took from what had 
 already been done. These changes originated the dif- 
 ferent orders, which are distinguished by the propor- 
 tions and various ornaments of the columns which 
 sustain or beautify large buildings. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 3 
 
 The Greeks had three orders of architecture : the 
 Doric, Ionic, and the Corinthian. Solidity is the 
 characteristic of the Doric order: it is used in many 
 public edifices, where delicacy and ornament would 
 be out of place. 
 
 The Corinthian order was invented by Callimachus. 
 It is said that this artist, passing near a tomb, was 
 struck by the fine effect produced by the elegant leaves 
 of the acanthus encircling a 'basket, which had been 
 placed in their midst. The artist resolved to make use 
 of the ornament thus indicated by Nature and since 
 that time ; two rows of acanthus leaves, at the top of a 
 column, mark the Corinthian order. 
 
 The Ionic holds the middle place between the sim- 
 plicity of the Doric and the elegance of the Corinthian. 
 The temple of Diana, at Ephcsus, which passed for 
 one of the seven wonders of the world, was of this 
 order. 
 
 The Tuscan is less ornamented, and is the simplest 
 of the orders . The Composite, on the contrary, is even 
 more ornate than the Corinthian, but is less esteemed, 
 by masters in art, than the beautiful architecture of 
 the Greeks. 
 
 The Gothic order, of which the old churches are the 
 finest examples, is of more recent creation, and differs 
 from the antique in its .proportions and ornaments. 
 This species of architecture unites sublime simplicity 
 with incomparable boldness. Its distinctive sign is 
 
4 INTEODUCTOKY. 
 
 its high and sharply pointed-arches, which seem to bear 
 the prayers of the faithful heavenward. 
 
 SCULPTUEE. 
 
 SCULPTURE is the art of reproducing palpable objects 
 by means of solid materials ; its origin is lost in the 
 night of ages. 
 
 At first, the sculptor exercised his talent upon clay 
 or wax, flexible substances, and more easily worked 
 than wood or stone. According to the Greeks, the 
 first sculptor was a potter of Sicyon, and his daughter 
 the first designer, because she traced the profile of her 
 betrothed upon the wall, and the potter obtained the 
 solid portrait of his future son-in-law by filling the 
 spaces between the charcoal outlines with clay, and 
 then baking it. 
 
 However, there is nothing to justify the pretension 
 of the Greeks, and it is probable that the instinct of 
 imitation with which man is endowed would have 
 caused him to make similar discoveries in various 
 places. Afterwards more venturous persons sought to 
 render their works durable, and began to chisel in the 
 hard wood of. the lemon, cypress, palm, olive, and 
 ebony. Finally they used ivory, stones, and metals : 
 marble became the most esteemed, on account of its 
 solidity, and the fineness and polish of its grain. 
 
 The Egyptians are cited among the first people who 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 5 
 
 cultivated the art of sculpture. They raised a colossal 
 statue to preserve the memory of King Mocris, and 
 of the queen, his wife, for having constructed a lake 
 destined to assure the fertility of the country. A 
 piece of Egyptian statuary was the work of many ar- 
 tists, each one occupying himself with a specialty, and 
 the union of these different parts forming a remarkable 
 whole. 
 
 If the Greeks were really the inventors of sculpture, 
 it made very little progress among them for a long 
 time, as nothing which they produced before the travels 
 of Daedalus in Egypt merits attention as a work of 
 art. Dajdalus studied many years under Egyptian mas- 
 ters : on his return to Greece he opened a school which 
 produced able artists and fine works. Sculpture, like 
 other arts, was, after a time, perfected by the Greeks, 
 and the masterpieces of Myron, Lysippus, and Phidias 
 are considered, even now, as the most perfect statuary. 
 This judgment might be considered partial, if the mod- 
 erns, who have produced such admirable works, had 
 not made use of the antiques, we will not say as mod- 
 els, but as guides, in teaching that true beauty consists 
 in the imitation of nature. 
 
 The fine arts, friends of peace and liberty, lost their 
 brilliancy with the subjugation of Greece by the Ro- 
 mans. The masters of the world, knowing little of 
 art, did not think of preserving the works left by cele- 
 brated painters and sculptors. As the Romans neither 
 
6 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 knew nor appreciated other laurels than those gained 
 in war, they did not, at first, envy Greece (which they 
 had conquered and reduced to a province of their vast 
 empire) the title it had long borne of the home of the 
 fine arts ; but when they realized that there was another 
 glory than that of imposing their yoke upon nations, 
 they made their capital an asylum for the learned and 
 for artists. 
 
 Sculpture, however, did not long flourish at Rome. 
 After having prospered under Augustus, it was neg- 
 lected by his successors. The protection which it ob- 
 tained from Nero was injurious, rather than beneficial, 
 because the merit of a piece of statuary, according to 
 this prince, consisted in its bulk ; and he always found 
 a statue of gigantic proportions admirable. 
 
 The arts, which had declined during the struggles 
 of the Roman empire, did not find the impetus neces- 
 sary for their recovery until towards the end of the 
 thirteenth century. The most brilliant epoch of sculp- 
 ture was that in which Julius II. and Leo X. occu- 
 pied the pontifical throne, when the immortal genius 
 of Michael Angelo shone forth. 
 
 Stone, wood, and bronze are the materials most gen- 
 erally employed by sculptors ; among stones, marble, 
 as we have already observed, is preferred. 
 
 The artist, to whom some great work in marble is 
 confided, commences by making a model of the statue 
 or group which he undertakes in clay; but as this 
 
INTRODUCTOKV. 7 
 
 shrinks in drying, the first effort is not satisfactory, and 
 he remoulds it in plaster; in this mould he runs :i 
 new plaster model, from which he takes his measures. 
 After having chipped off the grosser parts of the mar- 
 ble which he is about to use, and given it something 
 of the form to be represented, he begins the earnest 
 part of his work, and brings forth from the insensiMo 
 mass a head which seems to think, members which 
 seem ready to move, a heart which apparently throbs 
 with grief, hope, or joy. He patiently handles the 
 chisel, and then removes the traces of his labor; with 
 the file he takes away the lines and roughness of the 
 marble, so that nothing remains to do but to polish it. 
 
 Stone is sculptured like marble, but the instruments 
 used are not so strong, and one is obliged to have at 
 hand moistened plaster, and the dust of the stone on 
 which he is working, to fill up cracks and cover defects. 
 
 AVood is used for small models, and sometimes for 
 works of importance. Carvings in wood, of which mag- 
 nificent specimens are found in many ancient churches, 
 and in some old castles, have come into favor after hav- 
 ing been long neglected, and the carved chests and 
 armorial bearings of our ancestors, arm-chairs artistical- 
 ly wrought, and tables with ornamented legs, have be- 
 come real objects of luxury thanks to fashion, which, 
 this time, is in the right. 
 
 The wood of the oak and chestnut are used for large 
 carvings, the pear and the service tree for smaller ones, 
 
8 INTHODUCTOllY. 
 
 and the linden tree, and the box for more delicate 
 works. It is necessary to have the wood thoroughly 
 dry before using, to prevent its cracking. 
 
 Besides wood, stone, and marble, bronze is also used 
 to reproduce the features of illustrious warriors, of great 
 artists, and of the benefactors of mankind, and so trans- 
 mit them, as well as memorable events, to posterity. 
 
 The art of liquefying metals was known to the an- 
 cients, but it is thought that they seldom used it for 
 casting large pieces of sculpture. However, it is said 
 that Myron, a celebrated Greek sculptor, who lived 
 about the year 442 before Christ, cast a cow, in bronze, 
 so perfectly, that animals themselves were deceived by 
 it. Lysippus of Sicyon, who rendered himself illus- 
 trious about a hundred years afterwards, and who was 
 selected to make statues of Alexander the Great, as 
 Apelles was to make portraits of him, cast one of the 
 statues in bronze, which was, we are assured, of a 
 marvellous beauty. It came into the possession of the 
 Emperor Nero, who valued it highly ; but being only 
 of bronze, he wished to have it covered with a layer of 
 gold. The attempt was unsuccessful ; the noble work 
 of Lysippus was spoiled in taking off its rich covering. 
 We would here observe that this great sculptor left 
 no less than six hundred pieces of statuary, all worthy 
 of note. Among them were, besides the statue of which 
 we have spoken, those of Socrates, of Alexander as a 
 child, and one of Apollo, forty cubits in height, known 
 as the Apollo of Tarento. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 9 
 
 The Romans also cast their sculptures in metal, for 
 example, the bronze statue of Marcus Aurclius ; but 
 that statue, like those of Cosmo de Medici, at Florence, 
 and of Henry IV., at Paris, was cast in different 
 pieces. The equestrian statue of Louis XIV. was the 
 first colossal group made by one casting ; and when we 
 consider that it weighed more than thirty thousand kilo- 
 grams (sixty thousand pounds) , we can understand the 
 admiration and astonishment caused by ther success of 
 the casting. 
 
 Bronze is a mixture of small grains of copper and 
 zinc, which, by fusion acquire a degree of solidity supe- 
 rior to all other metals. 
 
 PAINTING. 
 
 PAINTING is an art which represents all visible objects, 
 upon a smooth surface, by means of lines and colors. 
 Like all other arts, it was imperfect at its beginning. 
 The principal features of a figure were drawn, and it 
 was long after these first essays that colors were em- 
 ployed. At first only one color was used for each 
 sketch; afterwards four blue, red, black, and yellow. 
 
 Painting remained almost stationary in Egypt, where 
 it was anciently cultivated, while it attained a high 
 degree of perfection in Greece. Zeuxis, Parrhasius, 
 Timanthes, Protogenes, and Apelles acquired great 
 celebrity by their admirable compositions. 
 
10 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 This art was highly esteemed among the Eoinans ; 
 but they could not dispute the palm with Greece. 
 When the vast empire which they had subdued was 
 crushed by the fury of the barbarians, painting appeared 
 to be forever buried in its immense ruins. It was not 
 until towards the middle of the thirteenth century that 
 it began to rise again. Cimabue, a Florentine painter 
 and architect, came from Constantinople to Italy, where 
 he acquired great reputation, after having studied under 
 the Greek masters. Charles I., King of Naples, 
 honored him with his favor ; and his example having 
 been followed by other sovereigns of Europe, the num- 
 ber of artists increased, and painting awoke from the 
 lethargy in which it had slumbered for centuries. 
 
 The first paintings were in distemper and fresco : 
 painting in oil was not discovered until 1350. 
 
 They used some kind of glue with their distemper 
 colors, and painted upon plaster, wood, skins, cloth, 
 and strong paper. This kind of painting is durable 
 when protected from dampness ; it has the advantage 
 of producing good effect, and not changing color. 
 
 The word fresco (fresh) is Italian, so called because 
 this painting is done upon freshly plastered or stuccoed 
 walls. Colors which have been submitted to the action 
 of fire, and earths of a dry nature, only are used, as 
 others would be injured by the action of the lime. 
 Fresco lasts longer than any other kind of painting, 
 and for this reason it has been chosen to decorate places 
 exposed to the air. 
 
INTliODUCTO: 
 
 Three things are necessary for fresco painfing, the 
 sketch, the cartoons, and the plastering. Of the latter, 
 two coats are used ; the first, which is upon the stone, 
 should be of coarse sand, and present a rough surface, 
 in order that the second coat, composed of mortar, well- 
 prepared lime, and fine river sand, may stick to it. The 
 painting is done upon the second coat of plastering, 
 which is laid on as needed, for if dry, the fresco will be 
 unsatisfactory. The colors are mixed witfy water, and 
 must be used freely, or the painting will not be durable. 
 The great masters have generally left magnificent fres- 
 coes. It is to be regretted that all colors cannot be used 
 in this kind of painting ; there are shades which it is 
 found impossible to represent. 
 
 The sketch is the rough draft of the work which the 
 painter is planning. In fresco, the sketch is usually 
 much smaller than the picture is intended to be : this 
 sketch ought not only to represent the subject in all its 
 parts, but also to indicate its colors ; the artist is obliged 
 to have it before his eyes, and to observe it carefully, 
 if he wishes to give to his work that harmony which 
 constitutes its beauty. 
 
 The cartoons for fresco painting are composed of 
 many leaves of thick paper stuck together. Upon 
 these the painter designs as much work as he can do in 
 a day ; and when the plastering, upon which he ought 
 to work, has taken the requisite degree of solidity, he 
 applies the cartoon, and traces the drawing with a 
 
12 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 pointed instrument ; then, when all the lines are traced 
 upon the wall, he begins to paint. 
 
 In Oil Painting all the colors are ground, and mixed 
 with drying oil. This kind of painting offers the great- 
 est advantages for vivacity, the mixture of tints, and 
 delicacy of execution. Besides, it permits the artist 
 to devote more time to his work, and give it a better 
 finish, to retouch it, and take away whatever displeases 
 him, without effacing all that he has done. 
 
 Painting in oil was, at first, done upon boards, then 
 upon copper, finally upon canvas or taffeta : the use of 
 canvas has been perpetuated to the present time. 
 
 Miniature painting resembles distemper painting, in- 
 asmuch as the colors are mixed with water and size, or 
 other glutinous matter. Miniatures are painted upon 
 fine-grained paper, or wood, prepared for the purpose ; 
 but ivory is generally preferred. This kind of paint- 
 ing requires much patience and great care, particularly 
 in the gradations of color and finishing touches. A 
 glazing, similar to varnish, is usually applied to pre- 
 serve them. 
 
 Another kind of painting, called Mixed Painting, is 
 made from the stippling of the miniature and the bolder 
 manner of the distempter style ; it is equally good for 
 large or small pictures. The most delicate parts are 
 finished by stippling ; force and character are given by 
 bold strokes. Correggio has left two magnificent pieces 
 done in this manner. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 13 
 
 The Pastel is a kind of painting in which crayons of 
 different colors take the place of the hair pencil. These 
 crayons are made of a paste (pasta) , and formed into 
 little rolls while soft. 
 
 Pastel is considered the easiest kind of painting, be- 
 cause one can leave the work and take it up again at 
 convenience. Common tinted paper, pasted on thin 
 board, is generally used. The picture, when finished, 
 is put under glass, which protects the colors, and gives 
 them an agreeable gloss. 
 
 The Mosaic is a painting composed of small stones, 
 of different colors. There are beautiful fragments of 
 mosaic, of very ancient origin, in Rome, and other cities 
 of Italy. The artist, who wishes to make a mosaic, 
 must have the picture which he will imitate before him, 
 and cartoons of the exact size of his work. The little 
 stones which he uses, are assorted according to their 
 shades of color, and placed in baskets, or boxes, from 
 which he can easily take them. The stones should have 
 a flat and even surface, without brilliancy or polish, be- 
 cause if they reflect the light it is difficult to distinguish 
 their colors. After having traced his cartoons with a 
 point upon the plaster designed to be used, the artist 
 dips the stones into a liquid mortar, and disposes them 
 as their forms and colors require. This kind of paint- 
 ing ought to last as long as the wall upon which it is 
 done. 
 
 Camaieu is a mode of painting in which there are but 
 
14 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 two colors, or black and white only ; thus the paintings 
 which represent basso-relievos of marble or stone are 
 camaieux. When the ground work is yellow, the 
 French call it cirage; when gray, as upon the windows 
 of some old churches, grisaille. 
 
 In painting, the word school means the union of 
 artists who have learned their art from the same mas- 
 ter, and who adhere to the principles given by the 
 founder of the mode he uses. Great schools do not 
 bear the name of the master, but of the country which 
 he has rendered illustrious. 
 
 The Byzantine school, founded at Byzantium, by 
 Greek artists, reanimated the taste for the arts in Italy. 
 These ancient painters have left very few pictures, yet 
 those few are very marked in style. Painting was then 
 in its infancy. They represented only long and straight 
 figures, like columns, all having the same attitude and 
 the same physiognomy, or, rather, having no physiogno- 
 my. Great ignorance of the rules of drawing, of 
 anatomy, of perspective, and of chiaro-scuro is mani- 
 fested in all the works which have come from this 
 school. 
 
 After the Byzantine comes the Italian school, which, 
 on account of the great number of artists it has pro- 
 duced, is subdivided into the Florentine, Roman, Vene- 
 tian, Lombardic, Bolognese, and Neapolitan. 
 
 Of these the Florentine is the oldest ; it is celebrated 
 for vivid and fruitful imagination, bold, correct, and 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 15 
 
 graceful pencilling, and a style which is noble, and 
 often sublime. Cimabue was the founder of this school, 
 but Leonardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo are con- 
 sidered as its masters. 
 
 The Roman school may be traced nearly to the same 
 epoch as the Florentine ; it is distinguished by a poeti- 
 cal charm, by purity, and admirable sweetness, and an 
 easy and elegant touch, while it is correct and learned. 
 Perrugino is the father of the Roman school, but Raphael 
 is its glory. The only reproach which can be made of 
 the painters of this school, is their having somewhat 
 neglected coloring. 
 
 The Venetian school, at the head of which stand 
 Titian and Paul Veronese, is renowned for admirable 
 coloring, knowledge of chiaro-scuro, a graceful and live- 
 ly style, and a seductive imitation of nature. But if 
 the Roman school can be reproached for not having 
 studied coloring, in which the Venetian excelled, the 
 latter can be reproached for having somewhat neglected 
 drawing, in which the Roman painters are so correct. 
 
 The Lombardic school, which recognizes Correggio 
 as its founder, has a right to be proud of its pure draw- 
 ing, its taste, its fine composition, its soft and easy 
 pencilling, and its noble and graceful manner. 
 
 The Bolognese school, founded by Francis, produced 
 no great artists at first, but the Carracci built it up ; if 
 it did not attain the glory of the preceding schools, it 
 was distinguished for science of composition, purity of 
 
16 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 drawing, truth of coloring, and understanding of chiaro- 
 scuro. Domenichino and Guido, pupils of the Car- 
 racci, contributed much to the celebrity of this school. 
 
 The Genoese school, which is not wanting in bold- 
 ness and grace, has not produced any of the eminent 
 men whose names form an epoch in the history of Art. 
 
 The Neapolitan school boasts of Salvator Rosa ; but 
 this great artist, who originated prodigies, had a man- 
 ner peculiar to himself, which no other painter was 
 capable of imitating. 
 
 The Spanish school, which has often been classed with 
 the Neapolitan, produced Ribera, Velasquez, and Mu- 
 rillo. The name of the last suffices to illustrate it. 
 Perfect drawing, elevated thoughts, brilliant imagina- 
 tion, a firm touch, a remarkable imitation of nature, 
 something proud, poetic, and bold, distinguish the 
 Spanish school. 
 
 The German school represented objects with their 
 imperfections, and not as artists usually like to see 
 them : it was skilful in coloring, but stiff in design ; its 
 figures wanting in expression, and its drapery in grace- 
 fulness and taste. However, some masters of this 
 school have avoided those errors with which connois- 
 seurs reproach German painting in general. Albert 
 Durer is the glory of this school. 
 
 The Flemish school is of very ancient origin ; but it 
 did not become celebrated until towards the middle of 
 the fourteenth century, when Jean Van Eyck, surnamed 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 17 
 
 Jean of Bruges, invented oil painting ; and it was not 
 at the height of its brilliancy until long after, under 
 Rubens and Van Dyke, who are ranked among the first 
 painters in the world. Easy pencilling, a profound 
 knowledge of the mixing of colors, of chairo-scuro, a 
 fine finish, with much grace and truthfulness, are the 
 distinctive characteristics of the Flemish style. 
 
 The Dutch school recommends itself by similar quali- 
 ties ; but it has produced more painters of landscapes, 
 or of interior scenes, than of history. Its most cele- 
 brated artist is Rembrandt, who, like Salvator Rosa, 
 has, as yet, had no imitator. 
 
 Through the study of the masters of all countries, the 
 French school has formed a manner which it would be 
 difficult to define, but which has not the less become its 
 own and original style. The grace, elegance, and spirit 
 which characterize this nation are constantly visible, 
 and genius often shines in its paintings. The French 
 school excels in noble style and in history. Poussin 
 and Sueur have best illustrated it. 
 
 Of all the schools of ^which we have spoken, the 
 French is the only one which can be proud of its living 
 artists : other schools have nothing more than recollec- 
 tions ; for, after having shone with splendor in Italy, 
 Flanders, and Spain, art has fallen into decay, and is 
 now waiting for some great genius, gifted with power 
 to resuscitate the glory of the past. 
 
 The French school is subdivided into many others, 
 2 
 
18 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 which have received the names of their several masters 
 the school of Poussin, the school of Le Brun, &c. 
 
 The English school dates back but one century, and 
 affects a peculiar character. Hogarth, one of the most 
 celebrated among English painters, was a remarkable 
 satirist, rather than a great painter ; but there are at 
 present many artists who are an honor to England, 
 where the fine arts will, without doubt, soon be culti- 
 vated with as much success as commerce and manufac- 
 tures. 
 
 ENGRAVING. 
 
 ENGRAVING is the art of representing the lights and 
 shades of visible objects upon hard substances, by means 
 of drawing and cutting. The art of engraving upon 
 crystal, glass, and precious stones was known to the 
 ancients ; and although they may have engraved their 
 inscriptions and their laws upon bronze and marble, 
 they never thought to reproduce upon metal the pic- 
 tures which they were desirous" to transmit to posterity. 
 
 This discovery was reserved for the moderns. A 
 Florentine goldsmith, named Maso Finiguerra, passes 
 for the inventor of engraving ; and it was by chance 
 that he learned the advantages which art could derive 
 from it. While chiselling gold and silver, he noticed 
 that the melted sulphur, which he used, preserved the 
 impression of the drawings which he had traced upon 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 19 
 
 the metal, and reproduced them upon paper, the sul- 
 phur having taken off the black which was found in the 
 lines made upon the gold or silver. He spoke of his 
 discovery to one of his companions, who engraved a 
 small picture upon copper, and took a number of copies 
 from it. This invention passed into Flanders, and 
 many painters of talent used it to make themselves 
 known in Europe. 
 
 Engraving, which appeared in France in the time of 
 Francis I., was perfected during the following reigns, 
 and brought to honor by the greatest of artists. 
 
 Engraving is done upon wood, shell, and copper, 
 either with a graver or the use of aquafortis. The 
 graver is good for portraits ; the aquafortis is preferable 
 for small works, and gives them a lightness and finish 
 not easily attained with the graver. 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 
 
 PHIDIAS. 
 
 PHIDIAS, who was born at Athens, about five hun- 
 dred years before Christ, devoted himself to the study 
 of sculpture. Great genius and assiduous labor per- 
 mitted him to realize wonders, and so carry the art, then 
 in its infancy, to a high degree of perfection. Having 
 acquired a reputation by some fine pieces of statuary, 
 his fellow-citizens demanded of him a statue of Minerva, 
 and at the same time required one of Alcamenes, who 
 was also celebrated as a sculptor. These two statues 
 were to be submitted to the judgment of competent per- 
 sons, and the most beautiful was to be placed upon a 
 column which the city should erect. A great reward 
 was promised to the victor, but this was the least con- 
 sideration to the two artists, equally jealous of glory and 
 honor. They commenced their work, and each sought 
 to secure the prize by displaying all the resources of 
 his talent. 
 
 (21) 
 
22 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 On the day of trial the two statues were removed to 
 the public square, in presence of the judges, and a crowd 
 assembled to salute the happy victor. When the cloth 
 which concealed the Minerva of Alcamenes was raised, 
 they uttered a cry of surprise and admiration ; they had 
 never seen anything more beautiful, more pure, or more 
 finished than this statue, which they almost believed to 
 be living. Phidias, as calm as if he had not heard the 
 praises given to Alcamenes, showed his work in his 
 turn. The Athenians had expected something better 
 from the talent of Phidias ; his Minerva appeared to be 
 only a kind of rough model ; and thinking this negligence 
 of the sculptor was a mark of disdain, they broke into 
 loud expressions of disapprobation. The partisans of 
 Phidias were quiet, those of Alcamenes gave vent to 
 their joy. 
 
 The judges commanded silence, and, after another 
 examination, and a short deliberation, they felicitated 
 Alcamenes, and believed it a duty to recommend to 
 Phidias to work with more Qare, not doubting, they said, 
 that with time and patience he might, at a future day, 
 succeed in equalling his rival. The crowd, by their ap- 
 proval, manifested that they held the same opinion as 
 the judges ; and Alcamenes, filled with delight, ap- 
 proached to receive the prize awarded him. But Phid- 
 ias, instead of retiring, sad and confused, advanced 
 towards the tribune reserved to the jury, and asked per- 
 mission to address one question to the illustrious mem- 
 bers of which it was composed. 
 
AHCIIITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 23 
 
 f? Is it not at the top of a column that the statue pre- 
 ferred is to be placed?" he asked, when permission was 
 granted him to speak. 
 
 "Without doubt," was the answer. 
 
 " Then would it not be well to see the effect produced 
 by these statues from its height, before giving judgment ? " 
 said Phidias. 
 
 Every one was struck by the justice of this idea, and 
 the machines, destined to raise the Minerva, having 
 been already prepared, the trial was made at once. 
 The statue of Alcamenes, seen from a distance, lost all 
 the fascination which it owed to the perfection of its de- 
 tails and its admirable finish ; while that of Phidias, 
 which had at first shocked the spectators by its mas- 
 sive and abrupt appearance, took a character of grandeur 
 and majesty which astonished them. It was no longer 
 possible to make a comparison between the two statues, 
 and as each one wished to atone for his involuntary in- 
 justice, Phidias was proclaimed victor, with great en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 From that time this celebrated sculptor had no more 
 rivals ; not only were his genius and ability recognized, 
 but also his profound knowledge of all that pertained to 
 his art. 
 
 The war between the Greeks and Persians broke out 
 soon after, and the latter, proud of the superiority of 
 their forces, hoped they could easily crush the Greeks, 
 who had the audacity to attempt to defend themselves. 
 
24 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Before the battle of Marathon, they had prepared a 
 block of marble, of which they wished to make a mon- 
 ument, destined to perpetuate the remembrance of their 
 victory. But they had reckoned without considering 
 the courage of their enemies, the enthusiasm which cen- 
 tuples armies, the love of country which inspires the 
 feeblest hearts with heroism ; they were completely beat- 
 en ; and the marble intended as a trophy fell into the 
 hands of the Athenians, who transported it to their city, 
 and placed it at the disposition of Phidias. The sculptor 
 made of it a Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance. The 
 work was as much admired as the ingenuity of the idea ; 
 and the Nemesis was preserved as one of the dearest and 
 most glorious of souvenirs. 
 
 Phidias was afterwards engaged to make a colossal 
 statue of Minerva for the Parthenon, a famous temple 
 dedicated to that goddess. He made a Minerva twenty- 
 five cubits high, so beautiful that, although of gold and 
 ivory, the richness of the materials was its least merit. 
 People came from all parts of the country to contem- 
 plate this masterpiece of statuary ; and Phidias, laden 
 with wealth and honors, was the object of the respect 
 and admiration of his countrymen ; but the Athenians, 
 so justly considered the most fickle people in the world, 
 soon forgot how much they were indebted to the glory 
 of this great man, and, naturally jealous of all supe- 
 riority, they vexed and irritated him until he became 
 tired of their unreasonable demands and injustice, and 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 25 
 
 yielded to thoughts of vengeance, which he had hitherto 
 repelled. 
 
 He could revenge himself only as an artist. He 
 understood too well how proud the Athenians were of 
 possessing his statue at the Parthenon, the richest piece 
 of sculpture in all Greece, not to hesitate upon the 
 punishment he intended to inflict upon them. He had 
 no thought of destroying this work, upon which he had 
 wrought with so much love ; but, sure of his own powers, 
 he determined to endow some other city with a statue 
 still more beautiful. Having formed this resolution, he 
 quitted the ungrateful place of his birth, and travelled 
 through Greece, meditating upon the work which he 
 would execute wherever he should take up his abode. 
 
 The Helenes, who knew of his rare merit, received him 
 with great honors, and he consented to remain some time 
 in their city, engaging to leave a souvenir of his sojourn. 
 They were delighted to furnish all that he required, 
 without even asking him what he intended to do. Sen- 
 sibly affected by this confidence in his talent, he decided 
 to seek no farther for a home in which he would place 
 his most beautiful work, and undertook his statue of 
 Jupiter Olympus. The Minerva of the Parthenon 
 was forgotten, or at least only occupied the second 
 rank among the valuable works of this sculptor ; and 
 public admiration placed the Jupiter Olympus among 
 the seven wonders of the world. 
 
 The Athenians repented of their ingratitude when 
 
26 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 they saw this masterpiece, the greatest work of art, 
 and begged Phidias to make something as remarkable 
 for them ; but their flattery and supplications were of 
 no avail : the sculptor, certain of not being surpassed, 
 laid down his chisel, never to resume it. 
 
 The name of Phidias has remained one of the great- 
 est, not only of Greece, but of the world. The first of 
 sculptors, he studied Nature to reproduce it, and knew 
 how to imitate it in all its grace and beauty ; and when 
 he wished to represent Divinity, it was done with so 
 much majesty, grandeur, and power, that, in the words 
 of an ancient author, his chisel seemed to have been 
 guided by Divinity itself. 
 
 PKAXITELES. 
 
 Praxiteles flourished about three hundred and sixty- 
 five years before Christ, that is to say, about a century 
 after Phidias. Endowed with great genius, he realized 
 all that the most ambitious and most devoted artist could 
 desire. Marble seemed to become animated under his 
 chisel, and nothing could give an idea of the ravishing 
 beauty of his works. Those whom he permitted to visit 
 his studio, remained in ecstasy before the first piece of 
 statuary offered to their view ; feeling sure that it would 
 be impossible to see anything better, they were disin- 
 clined to look farther. When Praxiteles had succeeded 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 27 
 
 in attracting their attention to another group, they for- 
 got the first, and finally remained uncertain to which 
 they could give preference. Such embarrassment was 
 considered by the sculptor as his greatest triumph ; it 
 was to him the proof of a pleasure seldom enjoyed by 
 the greatest artists, whose genius is generally fitful, 
 while he was ever master of his own. 
 
 The famous Phryne, having obtained permission to 
 choose, from among the works of the celebrated sculp- 
 tor, that which she liked best, found it so difficult to de- 
 cide, that she asked the advice of Praxiteles himself. 
 The artist avoided giving her an answer ; he did not 
 wish to deceive her, and did not care to give up his best 
 piece. But Phryne was not to be discouraged. As 
 cunning as she was beautiful, she resolved to obtain by 
 stratagem that which had been refused her. 
 
 One night, Praxiteles was aroused from sleep by the 
 cry of fire ; and, springing up, he rushed, half dressed, 
 from his chamber. 
 
 Phryne, who feigned to have come in with those who 
 were about him, begged him to calm himself, saying, 
 "It is only your studio which is on fire." 
 
 At these words, Praxiteles, who feared more for his 
 works than for himself, ran towards the place designated, 
 crying out, " Quick, quick, my friends ! Save my 
 Satyr and my Cupid ! Perhaps it is not too late ! Alas, 
 I am lost if the flames have destroyed them ! " 
 
 Phryne learned what she wished to know : she stopped 
 
28 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Praxiteles, and avowed that it was only a trick which 
 she had played, in order to draw from him his secret, 
 and requiring the performance of his promise, demanded 
 his Cupid. Praxiteles had been so much frightened at 
 the thought of losing his studio, that he received the 
 acknowledgment of Phryne as good news ; and in the 
 height of his joy, forgave her the injury she had done 
 him, and allowed her to take away the chef-d'oeuvre 
 which he had designated as his choice. 
 
 Another statue of Love, made to replace the first, 
 was the boast of the ancients, as incomparable ; then 
 came a statue of Phryne, a Venus, which equalled it, 
 and a second Venus, more perfect still. This last statue 
 was, for a long time, in the possession of the inhabitants 
 of Cnidos : they regarded it as an inestimable treasure. 
 
 Praxiteles gloriously pursued his career, and gave to 
 each of his numerous works the seal of grandeur, truth, 
 and grace which caused them to be sought as the most 
 perfect statuary. He studied nature patiently, and 
 knew how to embellish it without making it lose any- 
 thing of its life and its simplicity. 
 
 It is said that the famous statue of Love, by Prax- 
 iteles, was possessed by Isabella of Este, grandmother 
 of the Dukes of Mantua. She had also a Cupid by 
 Michael Angelo. One day, when she received, at Pavia, 
 M. de Foix and President de Thou, sent to Italy by 
 the King of France, the conversation turned upon the 
 arts ; and the princess, at the request of the two noble 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 29 
 
 strangers, showed them the work of Michael Angelo. 
 They viewed it with admiration, and thanked Isabella, 
 saying, it was impossible to see anything more beauti- 
 ful. The princess smiled ; and conducting them into 
 her cabinet, invited them to look at another statue, like- 
 wise representing Love. They were greatly surprised 
 to find this last much superior to the one they had been 
 praising, and looking at each other, were at a loss to 
 find words to express their enthusiasm. 
 
 " Michael Angelo is the king of modern sculpture," 
 said Isabella, " but Praxiteles is the divinity of ancient 
 art." 
 
 It is by the study of the antique that the genius of 
 the greatest artists, both painters and sculptors, has 
 been developed. The antique is the surest rule for 
 beauty and truth ; and although all the pieces of sculp- 
 ture which the ancients have left us are not equally 
 perfect, all have the character of grandeur and simplicity, 
 which prevents connoisseurs confounding them with 
 modern works. As to those of Phidias, of Praxiteles, 
 and many other Greek sculptors, they are distinguished 
 by sublime taste, correct and sprightly execution, and 
 elegant outlines ; combining a happy charm of the most 
 beautiful in nature, noble expression, great variety, a 
 sobriety in ornament which rejects artificiality, and, 
 finally, a majesty, which excludes neither simplicity nor 
 grace. 
 
30 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 POLYCLETUS. 
 
 After Praxiteles came Polycletus, who carried art to 
 a higher point of glory than it had before attained. He 
 was born at Sicyon, a city of Peloponnesus, in the year 
 of the world 3760, and soon became known by his mag- 
 nificent productions. He took pleasure in teaching the 
 principles of sculpture to the great number of pupils 
 whom his reputation had drawn to him. Wishing to 
 leave to all these young artists, formed by his care, a 
 model, to which they could have recourse when his ad- 
 vice failed, he caused the best formed men that could 
 be found to be brought to him ; and, selecting that 
 which was irreproachable, in each of them, he formed 
 a statue in which all the proportions of the human body 
 were so perfectly observed, that people came from all 
 parts, not only to admire, but to consult it. This 
 chef-<f(Kuvre was named The Rule, first by Polycletus, 
 and afterwards by the learned," and by connoisseurs. 
 
 Like most of the Greek painters, this able sculptor 
 exposed the productions of his chisel to public criticism, 
 and, like Apelles, he met more than one shoemaker 
 who pretended to go beyond his last. "Wishing to 
 give a lesson to these ignorant people, who thought they 
 knew, and allowed themselves to judge, of everything, 
 he made over a statue, which had been submitted to the 
 examination of the crowd, according to the various ad- 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 31 
 
 vice which had been given him, and composed a simi- 
 lar one, taking only the rules of art and his own genius 
 for his guide. Having finished the two, he exposed 
 them both to the public, and awaited the effect which 
 they should produce. 
 
 The beholders could not find sufficient praise for the 
 last, or sarcasm for the first, which they by no means 
 attributed to the great Polycletus. The sculptor then 
 showed himself to the people, and said, 
 
 " The statue at which you rail is your own work, that 
 which you admire is mine." 
 
 Turning towards his disciples, he added, "Never for- 
 get that a capable artist ought to listen to criticism, as 
 an advice which can be useful to him, but not as a law 
 which he is to follow. 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci was born at the castle of Vinci, 
 near Florence, in 1452. His father, notary of the 
 Seigniory of Florence, gave him an excellent education, 
 and had the pleasure of seeing its advantages. There 
 was never a mortal more richly endowed than Leonardo : 
 a fine figure, robust constitution, superior intelligence, 
 great force of character, prodigious memory, and a 
 pleasant disposition, made him all that a parent could 
 wish. 
 
32 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 He learned, with great facility, history, geography, 
 mathematics, architecture, drawing, and music ; he 
 seemed to understand the elements of these sciences, 
 even before they were explained to him, and after hav- 
 ing studied some time, puzzled his teachers by questions 
 which they found it difficult to answer. He was not 
 only the first in his studies, but none of his schoolmates 
 could equal him in expertness, in strength, or in good 
 humor. He always went from recreation to labor with- 
 out regret, and considered the dryest studies as a succes- 
 sion of pleasures, the variety of which amused him. 
 
 Arithmetic, geometry, and mechanics afforded him 
 much gratification, and, singular to say, he was passion- 
 ately fond of poetry. When he had finished his studies, 
 he continued to write poetry, practise music, and also 
 painting. His father expected that he would succeed 
 him in the office of notary ; but when he perceived the 
 young man's taste for art, he allowed him to select the 
 career most agreeable to him. Leonardo was undeter- 
 mined, when Andrea del Verrochio, a celebrated painter 
 of Florence, and friend of his family, having seen some 
 of his sketches, advised him to devote himself to paint- 
 ing, and invited him to work in his studio. Leonardo 
 accepted the invitation, and soon became one of Master 
 Andrea's best pupils. 
 
 This painter, being 'much hurried to finish a picture, 
 representing the Baptism of Jesus Christ, thought he 
 might trust Leonardo to assist him in his work, and, 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 33 
 
 reserving the principal figures for himself, left the head 
 of an angel, which, if it should be inferior to the rest 
 of the composition, would not be noticed. So thought 
 Verrochio ; but what was his surprise, when the con- 
 noisseurs, to whom he showed his work, and who com- 
 plimented him upon it, expatiated particularly upon the 
 head of the angel, which, according to their ideas was 
 much superior to anything which Andrea had hitherto 
 done ! Verrochio, at first astonished, was afterwards filled 
 with chagrin at seeing himself surpassed by a very 
 young man ; and, unwilling to be only the disciple of 
 his pupil, he broke his pallet, burned his pencils, and 
 swore that he would never paint again. It is said that 
 he faithfully kept his oath. 
 
 The friends of Andrea were much surprised at his 
 resolution ; but it was easily explained, on finding that 
 the part of the picture on which they had bestowed such 
 high encomiums, had been painted by Leonardo da 
 Vinci. The young artist began to enjoy a certain repu- 
 tation as soon as the anecdote became known. A 
 Virgin, which he afterwards painted, placed him in the 
 rank of the first painters of his time, and his name was 
 celebrated throughout Italy before he had attained his 
 twentieth year. 
 
 The Seigniory of Florence, wishing to offer a present 
 of a set of hangings in silk and gold, such as was made 
 in Flanders, desired Leonardo to compose the cartoon 
 3 
 
34 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 for it, and this cartoon, representing Adam and Eve in 
 the garden of Eden, was found magnificent. 
 
 Although busily occupied with painting, Da Vinci did 
 not neglect the other arts; he composed odes, sonnets, 
 and songs, and set them to music ; and, not content 
 with the musical instruments in use, he invented a new 
 one. While engaged with music and poetry, he plunged 
 into the most complicated calculations, or pursued the 
 solution of a problem, before which the most skilful 
 mathematicians had recoiled. 
 
 Much assiduity to labor enabled him to carry on these 
 different occupations ; but he preferred painting, and 
 that he might succeed, he was indefatigable in the study 
 of nature. Flowers, animals, landscapes, and the phys- 
 iognomy of man, above all, were the objects of his at- 
 tention. If he saw a person with a characteristic face, 
 or some odd attraction, a lame beggar, or an artisan 
 in merry humor, while walking through the streets of 
 Florence, he followed him long enough to observe, par- 
 ticularly, what had appeared extraordinary in the indi- 
 vidual, and then, returning home, he drew it from 
 memory. 
 
 He also went to see thieves on their way to prison, 
 and condemned people going to punishment ; then, turn- 
 ing from these pictures of affliction, he left the city, and 
 entered into conversation with the shepherd, the laborer, 
 and the brown harvest woman, returning home after her 
 day's toil. He often invited peasants and common peo- 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 35 
 
 pie to visit him ; he offered them drinks, and took his 
 place among them ; and in order to excite their mirth, 
 he related jocose stories, and when he saw them bursting 
 with laughter, he took his pencil and reproduced the 
 contortions which he considered most striking. 
 
 He was well paid for the pictures that he painted, 
 besides receiving more orders than he could fill ; so that, 
 at an age when young people are hardly capable of sup- 
 porting themselves, his house was furnished as well as 
 that of the richest gentleman in Florence, and valets, 
 pages, and horses awaited his orders. 
 
 His wit, his elegant manners, his taste in everything 
 relating to dress, introduced him into the best society, 
 by whom he was chosen as the leader of fashion. When 
 a noble Florentine desired to give a splendid entertain- 
 ment, he never failed to consult the brilliant artist, and 
 Leonardo always invented some detail which gave the 
 charm of novelty to the feast. If any important work 
 was undertaken for public utility ; if it was a question 
 of constructing a bridge, digging a canal, opening a 
 road, or building an edifice, the advice of Leonardo was 
 sought, and his plans were sure to be the best. 
 
 Thus labor and pleasure divided the time of Da Yinci ; 
 and it passed so rapidly, that he had attained the age 
 of forty years, without having found leisure to travel 
 through the rest of Italy, as he had intended to do from 
 the commencement of his career as an artist, However, 
 he resolved to break in upon his cherished habits, and 
 
36 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 bidding adieu to his dear and beautiful Florence, much 
 saddened by his departure, he went to Milan. The 
 Duke Ludovico Sforza received him with all the honors 
 due to his great reputation, and forced him to accept 
 an apartment in his palace. At first, he went from 
 time to time into Leonardo's studio, to see him paint ; 
 afterwards, fascinated by the sprightly and interesting 
 conversation of the artist, he remained there whole days. 
 
 He loved Leonardo as much as he admired him, and, 
 being passionately fond of music, he resolved to con- 
 voke an assembly of all the amateurs who were willing 
 to take part in it. Vinci warmly approved the project, 
 and asked the duke's permission to dispute the palm 
 with the musicians who should answer to his appeal. 
 Ludovico, who had not yet heard Leonardo, was sur- 
 prised at such a request; he knew that the painter 
 understood music, but he did not believe him able to 
 compete in the assembly. 
 
 On the day of the feast, Leonardo carried an unknown 
 instrument, which he had invented and made. It was 
 a kind of lyre, shaped like a horse's skull. This was 
 examined with much curiosity, and some secretly smiled 
 at it ; but when Leonardo touched the instrument, their 
 laughter ceased : never had they heard a softer or more 
 sonorous melody, and the musicians who had come with 
 the hope of obtaining the prize, declared themselves 
 vanquished. His triumph was crowned by the improvi- 
 sation of some couplets, for which he composed the music 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 37 
 
 while sitting amid the frantic applause of the audience, 
 to the great satisfaction of the duke. 
 
 o 
 
 After this victory, Leonardo wished to leave Milan, 
 but Ludovico, by entreaties and manifestations of the 
 most sincere friendship, succeeded in detaining him. 
 Magnificent entertainments, given almost every evening 
 by the duke, afforded the illustrious painter ample op- 
 portunity to exercise his double talent of poet and musi- 
 cian, and there was not to be found, in all Italy, a man 
 more admired than Leonardo da Vinci. 
 
 He passed whole days in his studio, pursuing his 
 study of painting, or in the cabinet of the prince, who 
 made him director of all the works to be done in the 
 state, and who was pleased to hear him treat of serious 
 and difficult things, with the same facility that he turned 
 a madrigal or composed an elegy. 
 
 It was at the earnest entreaty of the Dominicans to 
 paint a picture for their convent, that he consented to 
 ornament their refectory with a fresco, representing the 
 Lord's Supper. This magnificent composition, which 
 has been so often reproduced by engraving, is every- 
 where known, and regarded as the masterpiece of 
 Leonardo da Yinci. 
 
 The painter has chosen the moment in which Jesus 
 Chri&t, taking his last repast with his disciples, addresses 
 them with the words, "Verily, I say unto you, one of 
 you shall betray me." Surprise, grief, and indignation 
 are painted upon the faces of the disciples, whose eyes 
 
38 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 seem to interrogate their divine Master with a poignant 
 curiosity, and the wish to reassure him, by the protesta- 
 tion of an unceasing love and unchangeable devotion. 
 Each face, in the picture, has a wonderful expression, 
 but it happened to Leonardo da Vinci, as to Timauthes 
 with his picture of Iphigenia: after having given the 
 most admirable character to the heads of the eleven 
 faithful disciples, fearing that he could not make that of 
 Jesus Christ sufficiently beautiful, noble, and divine, he 
 left his fresco unfinished. 
 
 The prior of the convent, not understanding the 
 scruple of the artist, who was waiting for the inspira- 
 tion to complete his sublime work, or who did not care 
 for it, was so anxious to see the completion of the fresco, 
 which all Milan had contemplated with enthusiastic ad- 
 miration, that he hurried and teased Leonardo to finish 
 it quickly. The painter excused himself from so doing ; 
 the prior redoubled his importunities, and even went so 
 far as to threaten to compel him. Then Leonardo set 
 himself to work. The head of Judas, as well as that 
 of Christ, remained to be done, and he began with the 
 former, making it the portrait of the abbe*, and giving 
 it the most hateful and false expression it is possible to 
 imagine. As to the head of Christ, he contented him- 
 self with sketching it, leaving to the imagination of the 
 spectators that which he recognized as impossible to ex- 
 press. It is difficult to say what is most to be admired 
 in this large composition, the spirit, the nobleness, the 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 39 
 
 elegance of the whole, or the truth, and finish of the 
 most trifling details. 
 
 After having produced this chef-d'oeuvre of painting, 
 Leonardo, who was also skilled in the difficult art of 
 sculpture, undertook the gigantic statue of Duke Francis 
 Sforza, which crowned his reputation. It was impos- 
 sible for him to think of leaving Milan, Ludovico could 
 not do without him ; and nothing that he could have 
 asked in another country was spared. But war came 
 to set the illustrious artist at liberty : Louis XII. drove 
 out Ludovico Sforza, and Leonardo had the pain of 
 seeing the French archers aim at his beautiful statue of 
 Duke Francis in their daily exercises. He left Milan, 
 and returned to Florence, to the great joy of his fellow- 
 countrymen, who had sympathized in all his success. 
 
 To show himself worthy of the reception which was 
 given him, Leonardo shut himself in his studio, and 
 some weeks after his return to Florence placed before 
 the public a cartoon, representing Christ, the Virgin, 
 and St. Anne. All Florence crowded about this poetic 
 picture, and Leonardo was proclaimed the first painter 
 in the world. Soon after he painted the picture of 
 Mona Lisa, wife of Francesco del Giocondo ; and this 
 splendid portrait, so well known as the Joconda, added 
 to his glory. This picture is in the Louvre it is of 
 extraordinary loveliness, and of exquisite finish. The 
 painter worked at it four years, and pronounced it still 
 unfinished. 
 
40 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 The grand council of Florence intrusted him with the 
 reconstruction of the Council Hall, and, when the build- 
 ing was finished, they begged him to decorate it with 
 some pictures, to which he consented. He thought he 
 should have to paint many frescoes in it, not dreaming 
 that there was an artist in Italy who would dare to enter 
 into competition with him ; but Pierre Soderini, the 
 bearer of the holy standard, who possessed some of 
 Michael Angelo's sculpture, and knew him to be very 
 able in drawing, proposed to the young man to take 
 charge of the sides of the hall. Michael Angelo, who 
 loved to attempt that which others considered impossi- 
 ble, accepted the offer of Soderini. 
 
 Each of these two artists secretly prepared his car- 
 toons, and then submitted them to the judges chosen to 
 examine them. They found those of Leonardo superb, 
 and they were so. The artist had represented the defeat 
 of Nicolo Piccinino in the war of Pisa, and the Floren- 
 tines allowing their arms to be chopped off rather than 
 deliver up the standards which they had promised to de- 
 fend. His friends had already pronounced him the vic- 
 tor, when, at the sight of Michael Angelo's cartoons, a 
 murmur of astonishment was heard, which was soon 
 changed into enthusiastic acclamations. The drawings 
 of Leonardo remained a chef-d'oeuvre, but there was 
 something so sublime, so striking, so new, that, by this 
 attempt of the young sculptor, Leonardo found himself 
 equalled if not surpassed. What the examiners and the 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 41 
 
 public felt could not be concealed from him ; but if he 
 had a doubt of the triumph of his young rival, a cruel 
 word, incautiously spoken, would have undeceived him. 
 One of the members of the grand council whispered in 
 the ear of his neighbor, "Leonardo is growing old." 
 
 Leonardo is growing old ! The illustrious artist could 
 never forget this judgment, which engraved itself in the 
 very depths of his heart. He found no consolation in 
 the remembrance of all his past glory. He doubted 
 the sincerity of the homage with which he had been sur- 
 rounded ; he doubted the friends who endeavored to en- 
 courage and calm him ; he doubted everything, even his 
 own talent. The order, given by the council, for hav- 
 ing the cartoons of Leonardo, as well as those of Michael 
 Angelo, exposed, as the best models which could be 
 given to young artists, afforded no alleviation to his 
 chagrin ; he imagined that his fellow-citizens, habituated 
 to regard him as an eminent painter, dared not deprive 
 him of an honor of which they did not conscientiously 
 consider him worthy. 
 
 The troubles which befell Florence prevented the two 
 great artists from executing these paintings, and Leo- 
 nardo went to Rome, where he painted several fine pic- 
 tures. But he did not remain there long. He visited 
 some of the other cities of Italy, and Caesar Borgia, 
 having invited him to Pavia, retained him there by ap- 
 pointing him general engineer. 
 
 War drove him from Pavia, as it had driven him from 
 
42 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Milan. He returned to his country, where a new dis- 
 appointment awaited him. Cardinal de Medici, who had 
 become Pope, under the name of Leo X., desired to 
 endow Florence with a beautiful edifice ; and forgetting, 
 without doubt, that Leonardo da Vinci was as able an 
 architect as painter, ordered Michael Angelo to come to 
 the city, to construct the fagade of San Lorenzo. 
 
 Michael Angelo again ! It was, then, true, Leonardo 
 da Vinci was old ; they no longer dared to confide any 
 important work to him. Leo X., the enlightened pon- 
 tiff, the intelligent friend of arts, shared the same opin- 
 ion as the members of the council of Florence ! The 
 artist, who had stood so long unrivalled, became dis- 
 couraged : he set aside his pallet, abandoned his plans, 
 neglected his chisel ; even music had no power to divert 
 him. He became so melancholy that his life was hi 
 danger, when Francis I., who had seen his works, and 
 who understood his grief, invited him to his court. 
 
 The wars, from which Florence had suffered, had 
 ruined Leonardo : after having been one of the greatest 
 of artists, and one of the most brilliant lords of the 
 country, he was reduced to a position of mediocrity, 
 which, for a man accustomed to every luxurious enjoy- 
 ment, was almost misery. He gratefully accepted the 
 invitation of the king, and bade adieu forever to the 
 beautiful sky under which he was born. Francis I. 
 received him with every mark of joy and affection, and 
 the court imitated the monarch, so that if Leonardo 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 43 
 
 could have forgotten the past, he would have been hap- 
 py in France. 
 
 He commenced several pictures for the king ; but 
 being old, and suffering, he could not work assiduously, 
 and had not the time necessary for their completion. 
 With the resignation of a Christian, he prepared himself 
 for the end which he saw approaching. Francis I. often 
 came to see him during his illness. Although Leonardo 
 thanked him for his attentions, he did not pride himself 
 upon them, because, in the face of death, he appreciated 
 what men so much esteem, according to its true value. 
 He was very independent in his conversations with the 
 king, whether he related the history of his life, or passed 
 judgment on his own works, or those of his contempo- 
 raries. Before his death, he asked pardon of God and 
 of men for not having made better use of the genius 
 which he had received from on high. Perhaps if this 
 great man had been able to conquer his inconstant humor, 
 he would have made greater progress in art than those 
 who have astonished all Italy. 
 
 When Leonardo felt that his strength was failing, 
 and that his life, like the flame of a candle, was about 
 to be extinguished for want of aliment, he asked for the 
 holy sacrament. 
 
 The king, being informed of the condition of the 
 illustrious old man, hurried to see him for the last time. 
 Leonardo tried to rise to salute Francis I., who, press- 
 ing his hand, seated himself at the bedside. The sick 
 
44 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 man related what had passed to the king, spoke of his 
 confidence in God, and of the celestial joy which filled 
 his soul. A convulsive shudder, the precursor of death, 
 seized him while he was speaking. Francis rose, and 
 held his head, to relieve him. Leonardo cast a look of 
 ineffable gratitude upon the king, and died in his arms, 
 at the age of seventy-five years. 
 
 This great man was sincerely regretted by the court 
 of France, and the news of his death created much sen- 
 sation in Italy. He had deceived himself: his fellow- 
 countrymen, while rendering justice to the genius of 
 Michael Angelo, knew that the name of Leonardo da 
 Vinci would ever be one of the most glorious of Italy. 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARQTTL 
 
 Michael Angelo was born the 6th of March, 1474, 
 at the castle of Caprese, in the territory of Arezzo. 
 His father, Ludovico Buonarotti, then governor of 
 Caprese and Chiusi, descended from the illustrious family 
 of the Counts of Canosa. He thanked Heaven for giv- 
 ing him a son, who should sustain the honor of his 
 name, and succeed him in one of the first offices of his 
 country. It is said that Ludovico, in thinking of the 
 future welfare of his son, did not limit his wishes simply 
 to the position which had satisfied his own ambition. 
 The affection and pride natural to parents lead them to 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 45 
 
 foresee a much more brilliant career for their children 
 than they have themselves enjoyed. 
 
 But with whatever glory Ludovico ornamented the 
 brow of his new-born child, of whatever fame for his 
 family he dreamed, as he sat by the cradle of the little 
 one, the reality was to far surpass his hopes. Only 
 this glory and this fame were not to come from the ex- 
 pected source. Who would know anything of the name 
 of Buonarotti at the present day if Michael Angelo had 
 been governor or chief standard-bearer ? No one : while 
 encircled by the aureola of genius, his name will be 
 known to remotest ages. 
 
 Ludovico, having finished the term of his magistracy, 
 left Caprese, to reside at his possessions in Settignano, 
 where the child grew free as air, and happily passed 
 his first years in the midst of workmen employed in work- 
 ing the stone with which Settignano abounded. It 
 seemed to Michael Angelo that this life would always 
 last; and he was not only surprised, but disquieted, 
 when his father told him that the time had come for him 
 to commence his studies ; and he almost died of annoy- 
 ance, when, instead of liberty, of open air, of the sun, 
 the songs of the birds, the noise of the workmen's tools, 
 he found only silence, and the monotonous lessons of a 
 severe master, at the. house of Francesco d'Urbano. 
 
 He begged his father to . permit him to return to the 
 pleasant life which he had heretofore led. Ludovico 
 replied by telling him of the grave duties with which he 
 
46 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 would be charged at a future day, and tried to inspire 
 the child with brilliant hopes, which he was incapable 
 of understanding. Michael Angelo bore his chain with 
 sadness. However, among the pupils who were a little 
 older than himself was one who helped him to be pa- 
 tient while living with Francesco. 
 
 This comrade, named Granacci, had a taste for draw- 
 ing, and passed his holidays in the shop of Master 
 Dominico Ghirlandaio, one of the renowned painters of 
 the time. The reader must not be surprised that we 
 use the word shop it was the manner of designating 
 the studio of an artist. 
 
 Granacci, having found that his young companion 
 much preferred a pencil, a brush, or a chisel, to books, 
 promised to bring him drawings, and provide him with 
 colors, that he might amuse himself with them from 
 time to time. He kept his word ; and from that hour 
 forth, Michael devoted himself to the long hours of 
 study and labor, to which he was obliged to submit, 
 since he could draw and paint during the time for 
 recreation. 
 
 One day Granacci offered to take Michael Angelo to 
 Ghirlandaio's. To see the studio of a painter had for 
 a long time been one of his most ardent wishes. He 
 gladly accepted the offer, and followed Granacci, his 
 heart beating with an unknown emotion. 
 
 tf Master," said Granacci, " this is my comrade, whom 
 I have so often mentioned, and here is his work." 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 47 
 
 As he spoke, he presented an engraving, illuminated 
 with extreme care by Michael Angelo, who, not satis- 
 fied with the simple work of a colorist, had added to or 
 subtracted from the work of the engraver, with a taste 
 and discernment far beyond his age. He was not twelve 
 years old. 
 
 It is the glory of Dominico Ghirlandaio to have been 
 the teacher of Michael Angelo, but he was a man of 
 talent. He perceived, at once, that the boy was a 
 genius. After having examined the engraving which 
 Granacci showed him, he extended his hand to Michael 
 Angelo, and said to his pupils, 
 
 "Here, gentlemen, is an artist who will surpass you, 
 and all those who call themselves painters at the pres- 
 ent day." 
 
 At this prediction all eyes were turned upon Buona- 
 rotti, who blushed deeply, and almost repented that he 
 had yielded to the solicitations of his comrade. 
 
 "You must quit your other studies, my child," said 
 Ghirlandaio, "and become my pupil." 
 
 That was precisely what Michael Angelo desired; 
 but Ludovico Buonarotti never would give his consent 
 to his son's leaving the college for the shop of Ghirlan- 
 daio, as he modestly told the master, who, smiling with 
 the thought of having among his pupils a child of such 
 hopeful promise, encouraged him, and agreed to go with 
 him to his father. 
 
 Ludovico learned, with more chagrin than astonish- 
 
48 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 ment, that he could make nothing of Michael Angelo but 
 a dauber and a mason. Little affected by what Ghir- 
 landaio told him of the glory of the arts, he again tried 
 to reason with his son ; but seeing that his efforts were 
 utterly useless, he attempted to touch his pride. 
 
 " So," said he, "your decision is made ? You give up 
 the career which I intended to open to you ? You wish 
 to be a painter?" 
 
 "A painter and a sculptor; yes, my father," replied 
 the child. 
 
 " And you wish to study with Master Ghirlandaio ? 
 
 "Yes, my father." 
 
 " Very well ! Master Ghirlandaio, I give up my son 
 to you. Hereafter he belongs to you, as an apprentice, 
 or a valet, as you please : you will keep him for three 
 years, and you will pay me the sum of twenty-four 
 florins for his services." 
 
 The pride of Michael Angelo revolted at this propo- 
 sition : heir of the noble family of Canosa, he could not 
 brook the idea of becoming a hired servant to the painter 
 whom he wished for his teacher. But if he refused the 
 conditions, he would be obliged to give up all idea of 
 being an artist. He waited in silence until Master 
 Ghirlandaio should accept the offer of his father, which 
 he did, without hesitation ; and, the bargain concluded, 
 he followed him, forgetful of the humiliation imposed 
 upon him, in his joy at recovering his liberty. 
 
 As the apprentice of Dominico, the young Buonarotti 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 49 
 
 soon surpassed all the other pupils, and the master 
 himself. It happened, more than once, that he cor- 
 rected the models which were given him to copy, and 
 Ghirlandaio never reproached him for it : he was a con- 
 scientious man, and recognized superior talent in the 
 child, of which he was so far from being jealous, that 
 he was proud of it. 
 
 The fellow-pupils of Michael Angelo did not share 
 the sentiments of Ghirlandaio. This uncommon talent 
 cast them into the shade, and his proud and unsocial 
 character was disagreeable to them. They took pleas- 
 ure in humiliating and tormenting him under all cir- 
 cumstances ; and the disdain with which Michael Angelo 
 revenged himself for their ill treatment exasperated 
 them still more. 
 
 From railleries and annoyances, they proceeded to 
 blows ; and Michael Angelo, who was only thirteen years 
 old, was nearly killed by a certain Torrigiani, who, with 
 one blow of his fist, broke the bone and cartilage of his 
 nose. But if the superiority of Buonarotti excited the 
 envy of his enemies, it was also his consolation. He 
 avoided these wicked companions, and becoming all to 
 himself, charmed his isolation by labor. 
 
 He was not fourteen, when, after having copied a 
 small picture belonging to a friend of his master, he 
 conceived the idea of keeping the original and returning 
 the copy, which he smoked a little, to give the varnish 
 the appearance of antiquity. Neither Dominico nor 
 4 
 
50 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 his friend perceived the substitution, and Michael An- 
 gelo was obliged to tell them of it, to get back his 
 picture. 
 
 At this period Lorenzo di Medici, surnamed the Mag- 
 nificent, an enlightened protector of art, established a 
 museum of painting and of sculpture in his palace, and 
 in the gardens of St. Mark, at Florence, where he was 
 at great expense in collecting the most precious works 
 of ancient art. 
 
 Dominico Ghirlandaio obtained permission for his 
 pupils to visit and copy these chefs-d'oeuvre, and Mi- 
 chael Angelo was not the last to take advantage of it. 
 But while his fellow-pupils were admiring the beautiful 
 paintings in the halls of the palace, he, who had always 
 preferred sculpture to painting, remained in the garden, 
 where a great number of workmen were employed in 
 preparing blocks of stone and marble, which skilful ar- 
 tists should transform into statues, and where were the 
 ancient pieces destined to serve them as models. 
 
 Some of the workmen, whom he had known at Set- 
 tignano, authorized him to make use of a block of mar- 
 ble, and gave him some tools : he chose the head of a 
 fawn among the models, and set about copying it. He 
 returned the next morning, and several successive days, 
 almost entirely abandoning Master Ghirlandaio. The 
 head of his model had been so much injured by time, 
 that the nose and mouth were almost entirely wanting. 
 However, this difficulty did not stop Michael Angelo : 
 
AKCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 51 
 
 although he had never received a lesson, he finished his 
 fawn, the mouth of which he made half open, as in a 
 burst of laughter, showing the tongue and all the teeth. 
 
 This done, he examined it, to be sure that he had 
 forgotten nothing, when he perceived a man at a short 
 distance from him, who appeared to be contemplating 
 his fawn with great attention. 
 
 " So ! so ! " said Michael Angelo to himself, without 
 noticing the observer, " it seems to me that I have made 
 out pretty well." 
 
 " Will you allow me to make an observation ? " said 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Certainly, if it is just," answered Buonarotti. 
 
 " You shall judge of it." 
 
 Speak then." 
 
 "Your fawn is old, is it not?" 
 
 "That is easily seen." 
 
 " Not so easily as you think. The forehead is old, 
 but the mouth is young. As for me, I have never met 
 an old man who had all his teeth." 
 
 The criticism was just. Buonarotti broke two of his 
 fawn's teeth, and hollowed the gum a little, before leav- 
 ing the garden, in his turn. However, he did not wish 
 to take away his work, thinking that perhaps he should 
 find something to retouch in the morning. 
 
 But the next morning his fawn had disappeared ! 
 Michael Angelo vainly sought for it on all sides, and 
 finally, perceiving the man who had spoken to him the 
 
52 THE PEINCES OF AKT. 
 
 evening before, and supposing that he might have taken 
 it away, he went to him, and asked him if he knew 
 where it was. 
 
 "I do know," answered the unknown, "and if you 
 will follow me, I will show it to you." 
 
 " And you will give it back to me ? " 
 
 "No, I wish to keep it." 
 
 " And by what right ? let me ask. I made it ; it 
 seems to me that I ought to have it." 
 
 " Never mind ; do not be angry. If you absolutely 
 desire it, I will return it/' said the amateur, smiling. 
 
 Michael Angelo, reassured by this promise, followed 
 him into the interior of the palace, and even into the 
 apartments of the duke, where he saw his fawn. 
 
 "O, give me back this rough sketch quickly," cried 
 he ; w the prince would be angry if he saw it among so 
 many masterpieces. But who are you, sir, that you 
 allow yourself such jokes ? " 
 
 " Who am I ? " replied the prince, for it was he ; "I 
 am your protector and your friend. Henceforth you 
 shall dwell in my palace, you shall eat at my table, and 
 be treated as one of my sons ; because you cannot fail to 
 become a great artist, Michael Angelo Buonarotti.*' 
 
 Michael Angelo, filled with joy, ran to announce this 
 news to his father. Ludovico had refused to see his 
 son since the day he entered the house of Ghirlandaio ; 
 but now, the young man, proud of the reception the 
 prince had given him, forced his way past the sentinel, 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 53 
 
 and into his father's cabinet. He threw himself on his 
 knees to relate what had happened, and obtain pardon. 
 
 Ludovico could hardly trust his senses ; but Michael 
 Angclo led him to the palace, where Lorenzo the Mag- 
 nificent was waiting for them. The prince repeated to 
 the father what he had said to the son, and offered him 
 whatever place he might choose, as a proof of the inter- 
 est he took in Michael Angelo. 
 
 Ludovico was too joyful to be ambitious : he asked 
 only a place in the custom-house, which Lorenzo grant- 
 ed, saying, 
 
 "You will always be poor, Signor Buonarotti ; you 
 are too modest." 
 
 " I do not wish for a place that I cannot fill worthily," 
 replied Ludovico ; and besides, I shall always be suf- 
 ficiently exalted for the father of a mason." 
 
 Notwithstanding the glorious future predicted to 
 Michael Angelo, Ludovico still regretted that he had 
 not wished to be a magistrate. 
 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent did all he had promised, and 
 the talent of young Buonarotti made immense progress 
 under his kind protection. But scarcely had he time to 
 finish two or three statues, when the death of Lorenzo 
 crushed his hopes. 
 
 Piero di Medici neither inherited the taste of his father 
 for the arts, nor his affection for Michael Angelo, who 
 left the palace, and retired to the convent of the Holy 
 Spirit. The prior, in admiration of his talents, had of- 
 
54 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 fered him accommodations, where he could devote him- 
 self to the study of anatomy, a study absolutely neces- 
 sary to the sculptor. Michael Angelo gratefully ac- 
 cepted the offer. He studied the muscles, fibres, and 
 frames of the dead bodies placed at his disposition, with 
 such extreme care, that in a short time they were no 
 longer secrets to him. As a manifestation of his grat- 
 itude to the prior, he offered him the first fruit of his 
 new studies, a Christ, in wood. 
 
 One day, Piero di Medici, remembering the young 
 sculptor, whom he had seen at his father's table, sent for 
 him. He had an order to give him, an order worthy 
 of such a prince. A thick snow covered the earth ; 
 Piero had it heaped up by workmen, and then directed 
 Michael Angelo to make a colossal statue of it. The 
 artist obeyed, regretting more than ever his noble and 
 generous protector, Lorenzo the Magnificent. 
 
 Florence was soon freed from the government of Piero, 
 who possessed no one of the qualities so much admired in 
 his father, to balance his faults. A revolution took 
 place in 1494, and Piero was driven from the territory 
 of the republic. 
 
 The respect which Michael Angelo owed to the mem- 
 ory of Lorenzo prevented him from declaring against 
 Piero ; he therefore quitted Florence at the commence- 
 ment of the troubles. He went to Venice, where he 
 was not known. Finding no employment, and his 
 means failing, he next went to Bologna. 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 55 
 
 There he was arrested, because he went through the 
 streets without wearing red wax on his thumb nail, in 
 compliance with a singular order imposed upon stran- 
 gers, of which he was ignorant. It was impossible for 
 him to pay the fine to which he was condemned, and he 
 would, without doubt, have languished in prison, if a 
 gentleman, by the name of Aldobrandi, had not inter- 
 posed, and taken him to his home. 
 
 By the mediation of this gentleman he obtained 
 employment, and acquitted himself so well, that a Bo- 
 lognese sculptor, furious with jealousy at the sight of 
 such masterly work, threatened to stab him. 
 
 As soon as peace was established, Michael Angelo 
 returned to his own country, and made his celebrated 
 statue of Love. Some say that when the Love was 
 finished, Michael Angelo broke one of its arms, and 
 caused it to be sold as an antique ; others think that the 
 sculptor would not have mutilated his own work, but 
 that the dealer, who paid but thirty crowns for it, prac- 
 tised the trick, by means of which he resold it for two 
 hundred ducats. However it may be, the statue, by 
 Michael Angelo, was regarded as one of the finest works 
 of antiquity, until, the arm being found, the deception 
 was discovered. 
 
 The Cardinal de St. George invited Michael Angelo 
 to come to Kome, and gave him a lodging in his palace. 
 The reputation of the young artist had preceded him, and 
 he was soon fully occupied. 
 
50 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 The statue of Bacchus, which is one of the most 
 beautiful in the gallery at Florence, was his first work. 
 
 The Bacchus was very much admired, but when the 
 group della Pietd appeared, the enthusiasm of the 
 Romans knew no bounds. The grief of Mary, receiv- 
 ing her crucified Son in her arms, had never been more 
 touchingly expressed ; the dead Christ had never been 
 more truthfully and more beautifully represented ; and 
 no one had ever attained the sublime expression and the 
 marvellous finish which are admired in the Descent from 
 the Cross of Michael Angelo. 
 
 However, there are some critics who reproach the 
 sculptor for having made the Mother as young as the 
 Son ; but what is there, however perfect, that has not 
 been criticised ? 
 
 The magnificent group della Pietd, so pure in design, 
 so perfect in grace, so marvellous in finish, that artists 
 despair of equalling it, made for the Cardinal de Villiers, 
 ambassador of Charles VIII. to Pope Alexander VI., is 
 to be seen at St. Peter's, in Rome. 
 
 After the war, Michael Angelo yielded to the solicita- 
 tions of his friends, and returned to Florence. Piero 
 Soderini engaged him to make a colossal statue of 
 David. The sculptor displayed the same talent and 
 genius as heretofore, in the production of a David, 
 which drew forth bursts of applause from an admiring 
 public. Soderini could hardly contain himself for pride 
 and joy, for he thought, poor standard-bearer, that if 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 57 
 
 this gigantic statue was faultless, the artist owed it to 
 him, Piero Soderini. It happened that Soderini, being 
 admitted the first to see the new chef-d'oeuvre, deigned 
 to show himself satisfied ; he dared, however, to venture 
 an observation the nose of David appeared to him 
 too large. 
 
 Michael Angelo, of whose impetuous temper we have 
 already spoken, impatiently heard his unjust criticism ; 
 he was on the point of railing at him for his ignorance, 
 but, calming himself, he applauded the remark of his 
 visitor, and throwing a handful of marble dust on the 
 nose, he pretended to give it two or three strokes of the 
 chisel ; and wiping off the dust, he turned to Soderini, 
 who congratulated him, as, in his opinion, nothing more 
 was wanting. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci, who was then known as the first 
 painter of Italy, and of the world, had been engaged to 
 fresco a part of the Council Hall. Soderini proposed to 
 Michael Angelo to take charge of the other part, which 
 he accepted. 
 
 Leonardo chose for his subject the defeat of Piccinino, 
 general of the Duke of Milan, and the heroic valor of the 
 old soldiers, who allowed their wrists to be cut off, 
 rather than surrender the standards, which they wished 
 to carry to Florence. Michael Angelo was to paint an 
 episode of the war of Pisa. But for this artist, whose 
 knowledge of anatomy surpassed that of all other paint- 
 ers, to be condemned to represent soldiers encased in 
 
58 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 heavy armor, was to yield the palm which he wished 
 to contest ; but his genius helped him to overcome this 
 difficulty. 
 
 He took for his subject a circumstance which he re- 
 membered in the history of the war of Pisa. The 
 Florentine soldiers, overcome with heat, were bathing in 
 the Arno, without foreseeing an attack, when cries of 
 alarm resounded, the Pisans were coming. Michael 
 Angelo put so much purity, strength, and expression 
 in his drawing of the army, thus surprised, that the day 
 on which he presented his cartoons to the judges to be 
 examined was for him a day of triumph. Florence ex- 
 tolled the new star which shone in its heaven, and began 
 to feel more proud of Michael Angelo than of its great 
 painter, Leonardo da Vinci. 
 
 The cartoons of the two illustrious artists remained 
 exposed for the admiration of the curious, and for the 
 study of young artists ; neither Michael Angelo nor 
 Leonardo being able at that time to execute the frescoes 
 of which they had made the designs. 
 
 All the painters in Italy wished to see these wonderful 
 drawings ; and although Leonardo's cartoons were of ex- 
 ceeding beauty, those of Michael Angelo, whose name 
 was, as yet, partially unknown, caused a much more 
 lively sensation. He was unanimously proclaimed the 
 master of art, and the most brilliant reputation faded 
 before his. 
 
 But Michael Angelo had enemies, who, favored by 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 59 
 
 the troubles which agitated the last days of the Floren- 
 tine republic, destroyed his cartoons. The public voice 
 accused the sculptor Baccio Bandinelli of the crime. 
 
 Baccio Bandinelli had talent, but he could not com- 
 pete with the inimitable Michael Angelo. Instead of 
 accepting the second place, he suffered himself to be led 
 away by jealousy and hatred, and to use every means 
 in his power to impede the career of artists superior to 
 himself, particularly that of Michael Angelo. 
 
 No sooner was Pope Julius II. seated upon the pon- 
 tifical throne, than he sent for the great artist, whom he 
 received with every demonstration of honor, and ordered 
 him to make a statue. 
 
 " Try," said he, " to make this work worthy of Julius 
 II. and of Michael Angelo." 
 
 A compliment thus framed was very flattering to 
 Buonarotti : he answered it by making a colossal statue, 
 which held a sword in one hand, while it blessed the 
 world with the other. Michael Angelo designed to 
 place a book in the hand, but Julius, who was more 
 warlike than religious, decided to have a sword. This 
 statue was cast in bronze, and placed upon the portal of 
 St. Petrone, where it remained until 1511, when it was 
 broken by a mob. 
 
 Julius II. was so much pleased with this first work of 
 Michael Angelo, that he resolved to employ him on 
 something great, which should transmit the name of the 
 Pope and the artist to posterity. He therefore ordered 
 
60 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 him to make a monument for his tomb, and thinking it 
 unnecessary to give him any instructions about it, left 
 him to follow his own plans. 
 
 Michael Angelo projected a gigantic monument, which 
 should be ornamented with forty statues, and magnifi- 
 cent basso-relievos. Julius II. was delighted with the 
 idea, and desired the sculptor to set about his work 
 immediately. 
 
 Michael Angelo, filled with joy at finding himself 
 understood and appreciated, set out for Carrara. He 
 wished to select the marble himself, as nothing could be 
 too beautiful for this incomparable mausoleum. Thanks 
 to the great number of workmen he employed, thanks 
 to the ardor which his presence inspired, the work was 
 accomplished in a very short time ; and the marble hav- 
 ing arrived at Rome, Michael Angelo thought only of 
 realizing the sublime conceptions of his genius. 
 
 Julius II. had told the sculptor to address himself 
 immediately to him when he was in need of money, 
 and had ordered the doors of the Vatican to be always 
 open to him. When Michael Angelo returned from 
 Carrara, he wished to see the Pope, to obtain money to 
 pay the people whom he had employed. To his great 
 surprise he was refused entrance to the palace. His 
 enemies had been working against him in his absence, 
 and the Pope had forbidden that he should be admitted. 
 Michael Angelo, knowing his own worth, was indignant 
 at such an affront, and said to his informant, 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 61 
 
 " Should his holiness need me, and ask for me, tell 
 him that I am no longer an inhabitant of Rome ! " 
 
 Two hours after he was on his way to Florence. No 
 sooner had the Pope heard of his departure, than, feel- 
 ing what he had lost by listening to calumniators, he 
 sent five couriers, one after another, to recall the fu- 
 gitive. But Michael Angelo refused to listen to them. 
 Julius ordered them to bring him back, whether he 
 would or not : he resisted more than ever, and threat- 
 ened to kill the first one who dared approach him. He 
 was so resolute in his threats that the cavaliers turned 
 back. 
 
 Michael Angelo was received with open arms by the 
 standard-bearer of Florence, who knew nothing of the 
 cause of his prompt return. But the next day Soderini 
 chano-ed his tune : he had received a letter from the 
 
 o 
 
 Pope, in which his holiness threatened to ruin Florence, 
 and excommunicate him, if he did not force Michael 
 Angelo to return to Rome. 
 
 Julius II., prompt in keeping his word, advanced 
 towards Florence at the head of an army, taking Bo- 
 logna on his way. Hearing this, Soderini called Mi- 
 chael Angelo, telling him that if he did not wish the de- 
 struction of his fellow-citizens, to leave Florence quick- 
 ly, and go as far as possible, to avoid the anger of 
 the Pope. 
 
 Michael Angelo followed the first of these counsels, 
 which might pass for an order ; but he thought not of 
 
62 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 fleeing for a moment ; on the contrary, he took the 
 road to Bologna, and resolutely went to Julius II. 
 This boldness pleased the Pope, whose anger suddenly 
 ceased : he extended his hand to the sculptor, ordered 
 him for the second time to make his statue, and wished 
 him to hurry, that he might not delay with the tomb. 
 
 Jealous people again tried to bring Michael Angelo 
 into discredit, but they could not succeed : Julius knew 
 him, and was not to be prejudiced against him. How- 
 ever, there are more means than one of injuring an ar- 
 tist ; and when Michael Angelo's enemies saw that what 
 they said had little influence upon the Pope, they adopt- 
 ed another plan. Their object was to prevent the 
 great sculptor from immortalizing himself by the con- 
 struction of the tomb of Julius II., and they conceived 
 the idea of boasting of Buonarotti's talent for painting, 
 so as to inspire the Pope with the desire of having some 
 pictures by Michael Angelo, and thus cause him to 
 postpone the execution of the Mausoleum. 
 
 They did not fail in their calculations. "\Vhen the 
 statue of Julius II. was completed, Michael Angelo re- 
 turned to Rome, impatient to undertake the great work 
 of which he had thought so much. The Pope received 
 him in the most friendly manner ; but when Michael 
 Angelo wished to take his orders for the work which he 
 was to commence, Julius II. said that he had chosen him 
 to decorate the arched roof of the Sistine Chapel. 
 
 Michael Angelo imagined that he had misunderstood, 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 63 
 
 but the pontiff expressed his wish more strongly : he did 
 not care about sculpture, he wished some of his paint- 
 ings. Buonarotti endeavored to resist, declaring, as 
 was the truth, that he had made cartoons for the Council 
 Chamber of Florence, but that he had never painted ; 
 and that he thought he was getting too old to commence 
 his apprenticeship as a painter. At length he besought 
 Julius to revoke his order ; but all that he said only aug- 
 mented the desire of the Pope to see his sculptor as a 
 painter ; and the artist, understanding that his will was 
 unchangeable, resolved to obey. 
 
 The architect Bramante had taken the chief part in 
 this plot, formed against Michael Angelo, to turn Julius 
 II. from the idea of raising his own Mausoleum. Bra- 
 mante d'Urbin, the uncle of Raphael Sanzio, feared the 
 influence that Buonarotti exercised over the Pope might 
 injure a young artist who had just come to Rome. He 
 knew little of the character of Michael Angelo, who 
 could suppose him capable of depreciating the merits of 
 an artist like Raphael : Michael Angelo was too sure 
 of his own talent to be jealous of that of others. Julius 
 II. showed him the paintings of the young Sanzio, he 
 frankly praised their beauty, and predicted a happy 
 future to him who was the author of them ; but Bra- 
 mante, anxious to see Buonarotti in the second rank, 
 succeeded in bringing him into competition with Raphael. 
 
 Whatever it might cost Michael Angelo to put off to 
 a future time the execution of the poem in marble, for 
 
64 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 which all the personages, created in his imagination, 
 awaited only to be brought forth under his chisel, he 
 had too much strength of character to allow himself to 
 be cast down. He shut himself up in the Sistine Chapel, 
 and declared that no one should see his pictures until 
 they were finished. He sent to Florence for some of 
 his friends, who were artists, among others Granacci, 
 his old college and studio friend, and begged them to 
 let him see them paint in fresco, because he was entire- 
 ly ignorant of this style of painting, or of the prepara- 
 tion of the plaster necessary for it. 
 
 When he had satisfied himself, he dismissed his 
 friends, and destroyed all that they had done. He re- 
 mained alone in the chapel, refusing any assistance 
 whatever, even in preparing the lime, mixing colors, &c. 
 
 One can hardly conceive of his courage and patience 
 in surmounting all difficulties, transcribing and produ- 
 cing in painting the sublime thoughts which he had, 
 until then, brought out in marble. On the other hand, 
 the impatient pontiff tormented him, by continually 
 urging haste. Notwithstanding Michael Angelo never 
 lost a minute, he promised to be still more industrious ; 
 but Julius II. would not wait until the artist was ready 
 to have his work exposed to public view, but ordered 
 the scaffolding to be taken down before the ceiling was 
 half finished. 
 
 All Rome wished to see the painting of Michael An- 
 gelo. The crowd was most enthusiastic in its bursts of 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 65 
 
 applause, and Julius II. embraced the painter, say- 
 ing, 
 
 "I knew very well that the envy of your enemies 
 would prepare a new triumph for you." 
 
 Michael Angelo resumed his labor, and in twenty 
 months had finished the frescoes, whose beauty strikes 
 those who visit the Sistine Chapel with astonishment 
 and admiration. It is said that the artist, having been 
 obliged to look up so much while painting, could never 
 afterwards look down without pain. 
 
 By his wish, the architect San Gallo, one of his en- 
 emies, estimated the price of his work ; and he received 
 fifteen thousand ducats. 
 
 But Michael Angelo aspired to another recompense 
 permission to commence the Mausoleum of Julius II. 
 without delay, which was granted him. The Pope, 
 who fully appreciated the genius of this great man, 
 honored him with sincere friendship, which, however, 
 did not prevent him from being, at times, extremely 
 rough. It is said that one day, Michael Angelo having 
 dared to sustain a different opinion from that of Julius 
 upon a question of art, he raised the cane, upon which 
 he supported his tottering steps, to strike him. Michael 
 Angelo, who would not have tolerated such violence 
 from any person whatever, remained calm before his 
 protector and friend. Julius, ashamed of having suf- 
 fered himself to be carried away by anger, asked par- 
 don of Buonarotti. 
 5 
 
66 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 The most perfect harmony existed between these two 
 great men, both of them proud and imperious : the one 
 conscious of his power, the other of his genius. The 
 Mausoleum was commenced, and the Pope, old and 
 suffering as he was, went from time to time to see his 
 sculptor working upon the marble, under which he was 
 to repose. One day Michael Angelo waited for him. 
 He came not : he was dead ! 
 
 His favorite artist wept bitterly, and never forgot him. 
 Wishing to show a last testimony of gratitude, he re- 
 doubled his zeal, that the tomb, which he had been 
 forced to leave so many times, might be finished, to re- 
 ceive the noble ashes which it was destined to cover. 
 But the new pontiff, Leo X. , wishing to endow his na- 
 tive country, Florence, with remarkable monuments, 
 ordered the sculptor to that city, to construct .the facade 
 of the Library of San Lorenzo. 
 
 Michael Angelo was then forty years of age, and had 
 never attended to architecture ; but he knew that he 
 must obey; and, bidding adieu to his beautiful models, 
 he set out for Florence. 
 
 He was deprived of the glory of finishing this work 
 also, and ordered to Carrara, to select marble for some 
 statues which he was commanded to make. 
 
 During his sojourn in Florence envy recommenced 
 its work ; and as it would have been as easy to deny 
 the existence of the sun as the genius of Michael An- 
 gelo, they attacked his probity. Leo X., although of 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 67 
 
 eminent mind and generous heart, listened an instant 
 to this calumny, and ordered the sculptor to leave 
 Carrara, and procure the blocks which he needed from 
 Tuscany. 
 
 Buonarotti opened new quarries, and made roads to 
 take the marble to the sea ; then he returned to Florence ; 
 but Leo X. had given up the idea of finishing San 
 Lorenzo, and Michael Angelo, discovering in the Pope's 
 conduct towards him the work of base jealousy, which 
 had for a long time pursued him, resolved that he would 
 never reappear at the court of Rome. 
 
 Adrian VI., who succeeded Leo X., did not protect 
 Michael Angelo, any more than his predecessor had 
 done. But his reign was of short duration, and the 
 Cardinal di Medici, called to the pontifical throne, 
 under the name of Clement VII., honored him with his 
 protection, and sustained him against the heirs of Julius 
 II., among whom was the Duke d'Urbin, who threat- 
 ened to stab the artist, if he did not immediately com- 
 mence working on the Mausoleum. Michael Angelo, 
 little frightened by the threat, returned to Florence, 
 which was at the time a prey to new troubles. A pop- 
 ular faction had driven away the Medici. 
 
 Michael Angelo, who had little cause to be pleased 
 with the nobles, and whose generous instincts carried 
 him irresistibly towards the poor and oppressed, re- 
 mained neutral as long as strangers did not threaten his 
 country ; but when undisciplined hordes, from all parts 
 
68 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 of Europe, were directed against Florence, at the insti- 
 gation of the Medici, Michael Angelo, already sculptor, 
 painter, and architect, became an engineer. 
 
 As commissary general of the* fortifications of Flor- 
 ence, he, with twelve thousand combatants, defended 
 the city, during eleven months, against an army of thir- 
 ty-five thousand men. Michael Angelo roused the cour- 
 age of the people, with as much success as he repaired 
 the breaches made in the walls by the enemies' cannon. 
 During these eleven months he performed prodigies of 
 audacity and valor, and he alone gave the Medici more 
 trouble than all the city put together. But there were 
 traitors in the bosom of the city ; the gates were opened 
 to the besiegers, and Michael Angelo concealed him- 
 self from their vengeance by leaving the territory of 
 Florence. 
 
 Alexander di Medici, gonfalonier, ordered that no 
 means should be spared to find out where Buonarotti 
 had concealed himself, and his retreat was soon dis- 
 covered. He was arrested, and taken to Florence. 
 Michael Angelo appeared before the duke, and with 
 head erect, fearlessly acknowledged the part he had 
 taken in the resistance of the city, and quietly awaited 
 the judgment which should be pronounced upon him. 
 
 But, to his great surprise, and that of all the assem- 
 bly, Alexander advanced towards the artist, gave him 
 his hand, conducted him to the throne which he had 
 just left, and forced him to be seated. 
 
AKCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 69 
 
 "I have punished the rebel " said he, "in causing the 
 engineer of the fortifications of Florence to be brought 
 here under escort ; and now, behold, how I recompense 
 the talent of the greatest artist that ever existed." 
 
 The Duke Alexander had been inspired to this con- 
 duct, worthy of a sovereign, by Pope Clement VII., 
 his brother. Michael Angelo showed his gratitude to 
 both, by erecting the tombs of Julian and of Laurent di 
 Medici, in the Church of San Lorenzo. 
 
 The statue of Julian di Medici expresses strength and 
 energy, that of Laurent meditation, therefore it has been 
 called 11 Penseroso. If all the works of Michael An- 
 gelo were not chefs-d'oeuvre, before which every one 
 must bow, 11 Penseroso would be marvellous. Two 
 figures, couched at the feet of the portraits of Julian 
 and Laurent, complete these monuments. One of these 
 statues, the Night, inspired a certain unknown poet to 
 write the following stanza, which was found upon the 
 tomb : 
 
 " La Notte, che tu vedi in si dolci atti 
 Dormire, fu da un angel scolpita 
 In questo sasso ; e, perche dorme, ha vita : 
 Destala, se nol credi, e parleratti." 
 
 w The Night, which you see sleeping so sweetly, was 
 sculptured in this marble by an angel, and because she 
 sleeps, she lives. Awake her, if you do not believe it, 
 and she will speak to you." 
 
70 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 This is the answer of Michael Angelo : 
 
 " Grato m'e il sonno, e piu 1'esser di sasso, 
 Mentre che il danno e la vergogna dura. 
 Non veder, non sentir m'e gran ventura. 
 Pero, non mi destar, deli ! parla basso ! " 
 
 "It is pleasant to me to sleep, and still more to be in 
 marble, in this time of misery and shame. To see 
 nothing, to hear nothing, is happiness to me. Pray 
 speak softly, then, not to awaken me ! " 
 
 When these two magnificent monuments were com- 
 pleted, Michael Angelo departed for Rome, where he 
 was called by Clement VII. There he had to sustain a 
 process against the Duke d'Urbin, on account of the 
 tomb of Julius II., which the great sculptor had been 
 obliged to leave against his will. This tomb, which, ac- 
 cording to the first idea of Michael Angelo, was to have 
 been a gigantic edifice, was reduced very much in size. 
 Notwithstanding the offers of the Pope, who wished to 
 free him from the successors of Julius II., the celebrated 
 sculptor declared himself ready to continue the Mausole- 
 um, and finished the colossal figure of Moses, designed 
 for this monument. 
 
 This statue, which nothing can equal, either as an 
 inspiration or as a work of art, is the admiration and 
 despair of artists ; grand, proud, and terrible, as the 
 genius which created it, it gives an idea of what the 
 tomb of Julius II. would have been, if Michael Angelo 
 could have carried out his plan. 
 
AKGHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 71 
 
 It was while he was working on his Moses, that 
 Clement VII. urged him to paint the two extremities 
 of the Sistine Chapel, of which Julius II. had forced 
 him to decorate the vault. Michael Angelo, who had 
 always preferred sculpture to painting, excused himself 
 as long as he could, but he was again obliged to yield, 
 and, as soon as he commenced the work, he applied him- 
 self with great ardor to his frescoes. The Pope desired 
 that the Fallen Angels should be represented on one 
 side of the chapel, and the Last Judgment on the other. 
 
 Clement VII. died about the time the cartoons for 
 the Last Judgment were made, and Paul III., his suc- 
 cessor, fearing that he might not see this sublime work, 
 persuaded the Duke d'Urbin to allow other sculptors to 
 finish the tomb of Julius II., the statue of Moses suf- 
 ficing, according to his judgment, for the ornamentation 
 of the Mausoleum. 
 
 The Duke d'Urbin complied with the wishes of the 
 new pontiff, and Michael Angelo undertook the Last 
 Judgment. 
 
 This fresco cost the artist eight years of assiduous 
 labor : but what a picture ! Michael Angelo was, per- 
 haps, the only one among all the painters who have 
 inscribed their names on the pageantry of art, in letters 
 of gold, who was capable of rendering the grand and 
 sublime spectacle of generations of human beings com- 
 ing out of their tombs, to appear before the Supreme 
 Judge of the living and the dead. 
 
72 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 A profound and sublime thinker, an inspired poet, 
 Michael Angelo - knew how to give all imaginable atti- 
 tudes to this crowd of figures ; how to portray all the 
 passions, regrets, and movements of the soul upon their 
 features. There is not a sentiment, noble and good, or 
 base and wicked, which cannot be found in this immense 
 work : the entire history of humanity is there. And as 
 the great day of justice has come, vice, which has been 
 so long triumphant, is confounded, while humble and 
 persecuted virtue finally receives its recompense. 
 
 Ten groups, of angels, saints, martyrs, of the dead 
 shaking off their winding-sheets, of demons, and of the 
 condemned, placed under an eleventh group, represent- 
 ing the Supreme Judge, surrounded by the Virgin, St. 
 Peter, and Adam, compose this picture ; in which there 
 is so much grandeur and truth, that one cannot contem- 
 plate it without an emotion of terror. 
 
 In this fresco, Michael Angelo has put his own por- 
 trait, in the costume of a monk, who points out Christ 
 descending upon the clouds. This work, unique in its 
 kind, produced an inexpressible sensation ; it had most 
 ardent admirers, and severe critics ; but criticism is de- 
 stroyed by time : admiration still lives. The Pope, 
 however, was not particularly pleased with this com- 
 position ; and the grand master of ceremonies took the 
 liberty to say, in the presence of Michael Angelo, that 
 the picture would look better in a tavern than in the 
 church. He was punished for his inconsiderate speech ; 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 73 
 
 for the next morning he figured in hell, under the fea- 
 tures of Minos. He ran to the Pope to complain ; his 
 holiness answered, smiling, 
 
 "All power has been given me in heaven, and upon 
 earth, but not in hell. If you are there, so much the 
 worse for you ; I am not able to take you out." 
 
 When the first moment of surprise had passed, Paul 
 III. rendered justice to the genius of his painter, and 
 required new works of art. The architect, San Gallo, 
 had built the chapel Pauline, by the order of the Pope ; 
 and Michael Angelo decorated it with two large pictures : 
 the Conversion of St. Paul and the Martyrdom of St. 
 Peter. These two frescoes are not as well preserved as 
 that of the Last Judgment. 
 
 Old age came upon Michael Angelo without impair- 
 ing his faculties. After having finished the paintings 
 which the Pope desired, he resumed his favorite art, 
 sculpture ; and produced a new Descent from the Cross, 
 a magnificent group of four figures, cut from one block 
 of marble. 
 
 The great artist hoped to finish his days peaceably in 
 his studio ; but it was not to be. The church of St. 
 Peter, founded by Constantine, in the year 324, had 
 fallen into ruins. Nicholas V. intended to rebuild it; 
 but death had not allowed him time. Julius II. un- 
 dertook it, and committed the plan of the edifice to Bra- 
 mante and San Gallo. But notwithstanding the enor- 
 mous sums of money which they expended, the work 
 
74 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 did not advance, and Paul III., seeing the impossibility 
 of pursuing this enterprise without a man of genius to 
 take direction of it, begged Michael Angelo, who had 
 distinguished himself as an architect at the construction 
 of the Library of San Lorenzo, in Florence, to accept 
 the title of architect of St. Peter's. 
 
 Michael Angelo, who was then seventy-two years of 
 age, knowing the responsibility and care of such an 
 undertaking, would gladly have avoided it; but Paul 
 III. was so persistent, and so ably demonstrated the 
 glory which the completion of the Basilica would give 
 to religion, that Michael Angelo consented to all that 
 he asked. 
 
 Michael Angelo found it was impossible to execute 
 the plan of Bramante, modified by San Gallo. He 
 proved this to the Pope, and traced a new plan, which 
 reduced the edifice to the form of a Greek cross. He 
 suppressed a number of details, which he thought in- 
 jurious to the majesty of the whole, and Paul III. gave 
 his entire consent to the simple and grand proportions 
 of his plan. 
 
 Michael Angelo, fearing that death might overtake 
 him before he had proceeded so far with the Basilica 
 that it would be impossible to change anything, com- 
 menced his work the day after his appointment. On 
 assuming this charge, he made an express condition that 
 he would accept no recompense ; and this generous con- 
 duct placing him at his ease, he took the immediate 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 75 
 
 direction of all the work in hand ; thus ruining the cov- 
 etous hopes of a great number who speculated upon the 
 disorder introduced into this great undertaking. 
 
 It is useless to say that these people were enemies to 
 Michael Angelo. But the great man had learned from 
 his youth to despise the wicked and envious ; so that, 
 despite cabals and vexations of all sorts, he kept on 
 firmly towards the end which he had proposed to him- 
 self. It was in vain that the Grand Duke of Tuscany, 
 wishing to take advantage of the last sparks of this rare 
 genius, urged him to come to his court ; Michael Angelo 
 refused to leave his Church, saying to himself, to leave 
 it would be a great loss, a great shame, and a great sin. 
 
 Michael Angelo consecrated seventeen years to this 
 work ; and if he had not the pleasure of seeing it com- 
 pleted, he had, at least, the certainty that it would be 
 finished with a religious respect for the plans he had 
 traced. 
 
 He did not abandon his ordinary occupations, even 
 while a prey to a slow fever, which he felt would carry 
 him to his grave ; on the contrary, he seemed to hasten 
 all the more as death approached. He finished his 
 laborious career on the 17th of February, 1563. He 
 died as he had lived, an honest man, and a good 
 Christian. 
 
 His will was calmly dictated to his nephew, Leonardo 
 Buonarotti, in these terms : " I leave my soul to God, 
 my body to the earth, my property to my nearest rel- 
 atives." 
 
76 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Michael Angelo had never married : his affection was 
 devoted to his art, and prevented his thinking of the 
 cares of a family. Arrived at that age when one 
 begins to feel the need of a friend and a support, he 
 found all he desired in the devotion of his servant 
 Urbino, whose death cast a gloom over his declining 
 years. He was so much attached to this servant, that 
 he took care of him during his last illness, and passed 
 whole nights at his bedside, although then in the eighty- 
 second year of his age. 
 
 " Life was dear to me," he said to one of his friends, 
 " while I had my Urbino ; dying, he has taught me how 
 to die, and I now await death without fear, but with 
 longing and with joy. He was mine for twenty-six 
 years ; I found him faithful and true ; and now that I 
 had made him rich, I hoped that he would be the com- 
 fort of my old age : but I have lost him ! No other 
 hope remains but that of meeting him in Paradise." 
 
 These regrets show us the kindness of Michael An- 
 gelo's heart ; a kindness not the less real because it was 
 concealed under a somewhat rough exterior. Exposed 
 to the malice of the envious from his youth, the great 
 artist had become somewhat misanthropic; he loved 
 solitude, and found his greatest pleasure in labor. An 
 enemy to nonsense, falsehood, and meanness, he would 
 never condescend to flatter any one, therefore he owed 
 nothing to intrigue. Besides, his wants were so lim- 
 ited, that he could easily dispense with the favors of the 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 77 
 
 great. In his extreme sobriety he was satisfied with a 
 piece of bread and a glass of water, and the luxury of 
 his dress did not exceed that of his table. When he 
 became rich, his habits of austere simplicity were very 
 little changed ; but he procured for himself the sweetest 
 of all pleasures, that of making others happy. His 
 relations, his servants, and young artists striving to ad- 
 vance, received the greater part of the fruits of his labor. 
 He loved to make presents, but feared to accept them, 
 because he considered them as inconvenient ties, difficult 
 to be broken, and he loved his liberty too well to risk 
 compromising it. 
 
 Besides being a sculptor, architect, and painter, Mi- 
 chael Angelo was also a poet. He delighted in Dante 
 and Petrarch, to whom he devoted his few hours of 
 leisure. He composed quite a number of sonnets, re- 
 plete with the nobleness and generosity of his soul, but 
 tinged by a bitter melancholy, caused by the injustice 
 of others. 
 
 The reading which he preferred to all the Italian poets, 
 was that of the Holy Scriptures, from which he drew 
 those great inspirations, which he reproduced with his pen- 
 cil or his chisel, and he learned to attribute all his suc- 
 cess in those labors to Him to whom he owed his genius. 
 
 We should be astonished to see how many great 
 works a life of eighty-nine years sufficed to produce, 
 did we not know that this illustrious artist was endowed 
 with an untiring assiduity, great energy, abundance of 
 
78 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 thought, and an extreme facility for labor. He not 
 only consecrated his days, but a great part of his nights, 
 to work. 
 
 His admirable genius was appreciated, as it ought to 
 be, not only by the Popes, but by all Europe. The 
 Sultan Soliman, the Emperor Charles V., the Seigniory 
 of Venice, and Francis I. , endeavored to induce him to 
 leave his country by most advantageous offers ; but he 
 loved Florence and Rome, the seat of the fine arts. 
 Although sensibly affected by the testimonies of admira- 
 tion which were bestowed upon him, he refused the fortune 
 and honors which awaited him among foreign princes. 
 
 Francis I., who knew so well how to appreciate an 
 artist, ardently desired to have this famous genius at his 
 court, and Michael Angelo would, without doubt, have 
 given him the preference ; but the king was obliged to 
 content himself with casts of the beautiful statues of the 
 Florentine sculptor, after having asked permission in a 
 letter delivered to Michael Angelo, by Primaticcio. 
 
 " SIR MICHAEL ANGELO. 
 
 "Being very desirous of possessing some of your 
 works, I have charged the bearer, the Abbe of St. Mar- 
 tin de Troys, whom I send from beyond the mountains, 
 to beg you, if you have some excellent statues ready 
 made on his arrival, that you will allow him to take casts 
 from them ; and also from the Christ of the Minerva, 
 and the statue Notre Dame de la Febbre ; that I may 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 79 
 
 adorn one of my chapels with them, as I am assured 
 that they are among the exquisite and excellent in your 
 art. I have authorized the Abbe* to pay you well for 
 said favor. 
 
 "May God bless and keep you, Sir Michael Angelo. 
 
 "Written from Saint Germain en Laye, the sixteenth 
 day of February, 1546. 
 
 " FRANCIS." 
 
 We terminate the history of Michael Angelo, by say- 
 ing, that if there is anything more glorious than having 
 excelled in three different arts, it is that one cannot find 
 a single act in his long life, which could prevent his 
 being considered as the most loyal and most irreproach- 
 able man of his century. 
 
 BENVENUTO CELLINI. 
 
 Benvenuto Cellini, a painter, sculptor, and engraver, 
 was born in Florence in 1500. His father, who was 
 one of the musicians employed by the Grand Duke, had 
 long wished for a son, so that his birth was joyfully 
 welcomed, and he received the name of Benvenuto, or 
 Welcome. As soon as he was old enough to study, 
 Cellini, whose ambition was to make a virtuoso of his 
 son, put a music-book into his hands ; but Benvenuto 
 manifested the greatest repugnance for the notes he was 
 
80 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 to decipher, and drew upon himself frequent reprimands 
 and punishments. He was very intelligent, and had a 
 good memory : he was capable of learning all that was 
 taught him : but when the will was wanting, was un- 
 conquerably obstinate. 
 
 He became disgusted with music, and declared to his 
 father that he never would be a musician. Master Cellini, 
 having undertaken to overcome his repugnance, he ran 
 away from the paternal home, and took refuge in Flor- 
 ence. There he offered himself to a silversmith, who, 
 prepossessed by his good appearance, took him as an 
 apprentice. Benvenuto applied himself arduously to 
 his lessons, and soon became very skilful in the art of 
 chiselling gold and silver. His master confided to him 
 the most difficult and delicate works, and he acquitted 
 himself admirably. Perceiving that he must understand 
 drawing to become a good silversmith, as he desired, he 
 devoted himself to it, and even learned painting. 
 
 Having executed works of great beauty, he returned 
 to his native city, where he soon gained a high reputa- 
 tion. The Grand Duke wished to retain him there ; 
 but Benvenuto was not long contented in one place, and 
 had for some years desired to see Rome. He went there 
 unknown ; and notwithstanding the many celebrities of 
 all kinds who were in the city, he soon acquired a rep- 
 utation, by producing some of his marvellous gold and 
 silver work, such as vases, cups, and ewers, so richly 
 engraven, and wrought with so much patience and taste, 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 81 
 
 that, however precious the material might be, it was 
 nothing in comparison. The Pope, recognizing the 
 talent of this artist, appointed him Director of the Mint, 
 and gave him the execution of a great number of me- 
 dallions. 
 
 Benvenuto occupied all his leisure in sculpture. He 
 knew how to model, and had cast statuettes and little 
 figures in gold and silver ; he soon undertook larger 
 works, in which he gained a brilliant renown. Proud 
 of his success, he fancied himself beyond the law, and 
 submitted to no other rule than that of his own violent, 
 impetuous, and capricious temper. Generous at heart, 
 he would not have sought a quarrel ; but he could never 
 forgive a declared enemy, and was ever ready to obtain 
 justice for their calumnies with sword or poniard. 
 Space fails us, to recount the numerous adventures rela- 
 ted in his Memoirs ; for Benvenuto was also a writer, and 
 related his deeds with the pride of a man who knew how 
 to show himself superior to the vulgar. 
 
 When he committed some crime, as, for instance, kill- 
 ing an adversary in a duel, or infringing upon the orders 
 of the Pope, he would hide himself among his friends, 
 and not re-appear until the Pope, regretting the loss of 
 so much talent, showed signs of indulgence. Once it 
 happened that he had no time to flee ; but instead of 
 giving himself up to the force which surrounded his 
 house, he distributed arms to some of his apprentices, 
 and sustained a siege, in which he came off conqueror. 
 6 
 
82 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 There was as much of the soldier as the artist in this 
 extraordinary man : the agitated life of the camp would 
 have been agreeable to him, and he would have acquired 
 glory in such a sphere. The Constable of Bourbon 
 having come to besiege Rome in 1527, Pope Clement 
 VII. intrusted Benvenuto with the defence of St. An- 
 gelo, and the event proved that he was not mistaken in 
 his estimate of the courage and ability of the sculptor. 
 Cellini displayed as much prudence as bravery : with 
 only a handful of brave men, he sustained the attacks 
 of a large army, and caused much loss to the enemy. 
 The city fell into the power of the Constable, but the 
 Castle of St. Angelo, in which the Pope had taken 
 refuge, was not captured. 
 
 Benvenuto travelled through all Italy, leaving at Na- 
 ples, Venice, and Florence, vases and arms of infinite 
 value. He afterwards went to Paris, where he was re- 
 ceived with great honor by Francis I. This prince, 
 who was a passionate lover of the arts, tried to retain 
 Benvenuto at his court ; but the latter, who was very 
 sensitive, having had some bickerings with envious 
 people, on whom he could not take vengeance, as he had 
 been accustomed to do in Italy, did not yield to the 
 solicitations of Francis I., and returned to Rome. 
 
 He was not happy in that city. Pope Clement VII. 
 was dead, and his successor, Paul III., had less indul- 
 gence for Benvenuto. After having threatened him 
 several times with the vengeance of the laws, if he did 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 83 
 
 not behave as an obedient and faithful subject, he put 
 him in prison. Cellini was in despair : he had thought 
 that his genius protected him from such a fate. His 
 health became impaired : he feared he must succumb to 
 the chagrin of seeing himself unacknowledged, and de- 
 prived of his dear liberty. Perhaps he could not have 
 survived, had not the recollection that many prisoners 
 had succeeded in baffling the watchfulness of their keep- 
 ers, and made their escape, animated his courage. He 
 made many attempts, which his imagination approved, 
 but which succeeded only in causing him to be more 
 closely guarded, and he began to despair of success ; 
 when Francis I., having heard of his captivity, ordered 
 his ambassador to recommend this artist, whom he 
 greatly loved, to the clemency of the Pontiff. 
 
 Paul III. complied with the request of his Most 
 Christian Majesty, and set the prisoner at liberty. Celli- 
 ni went immediately to his protector to thank him, and 
 devote the talent he so much admired to his service. 
 Francis received him as an old friend, gave him the 
 castle of Nesle as a residence, and ordered everything 
 which was necessary for the execution of the works he 
 should undertake, to be placed at his disposal. Ben- 
 venuto, happy to find himself free, set to work with 
 good will, and showed himself worthy of the kindness 
 of the king. Admirable arms, and vases of rare rich- 
 ness, were produced ; and while chiselling these objects 
 of marvellous beauty, and making jewels, such as never 
 
84 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 before had been seen, for the ladies of the court, he 
 meditated a statue of Jupiter, which should be his chef- 
 d'oeuvre. 
 
 Benvenuto had a countryman at the court of Francis 
 I. Primaticcio. He was a sculptor, painter, and archi- 
 tect, and had been sent by the Duke of Mantua to the 
 King of France ; who, wishing to create marvels for the 
 palace of Fontainebleau, had need of a great artist. The 
 Italian had fulfilled all the requirements, and Francis 
 had recompensed him by loading him with riches and 
 honor, and above all, by according to him his friendship. 
 Primaticcio was one of the chief personages of the court ; 
 artists solicited his protection, and his position as com- 
 missary general of the king's buildings, gave him power 
 to dispose of the paintings and sculpture destined to em- 
 bellish the royal residences. Cellini, sure of his genius, 
 had no fear of rivalry, particularly as he had been called 
 to France by the king himself: he did not think he owed 
 Primaticcio more than the simple compliments exchanged 
 between equals. The painter of Francis I., thinking his 
 superiority was threatened by the new comer, and fear- 
 ing to divide with him the favor of the monarch, to whom 
 the adventurous and bold character of the Florentine 
 was not displeasing, saw in him a rival, and treated him 
 as an enemy. 
 
 At that time there was a person in France who 
 possessed more power than the king, it was the Duchess 
 d'Etampes. Charles V. knew this so well, that, having 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 85 
 
 obtained from Francis I. permission to traverse his 
 states in order to punish the Gantois revolt, he did not 
 feel sure of going out of them safe and sound until he had 
 made an alliance with the Duchess. How he succeeded is 
 well known. Francis I. having received the Emperor 
 at his palace of Fontainebleau, where the court was, just 
 as they were about sitting at table, two ladies of the 
 suite of the Duchess approached Charles V., and having 
 a ewer and a gold basin, they offered him to wash. 
 Madame d'Etampes stood behind them, holding a nap- 
 kin. At the moment she presented it to the Emperor, 
 he designedly slipped from his finger a ring of great 
 value. The Duchess picked it up, and offered it to him. 
 
 "Your hands are too beautiful to give it up," said 
 Charles V., adding flattery to the worth of the present ; 
 "keep it, I pray you, for my sake." 
 
 We cannot say how much blood might have been 
 spared Europe if this ring had not been offered to 
 Madame d'Etampes. 
 
 But to return to Benvenuto : what we have just rela- 
 ted was intended only to show the power of the Duchess. 
 Primaticcio, who knew how to gain the favor of the 
 Duchess, calumniated and prejudiced her against Celli- 
 ni, who soon perceived that the favor of the king was 
 nothing in comparison to hers. Obstacles were placed 
 in his way, his genius was questioned, and when he sub- 
 mitted the project of casting a statue of Jupiter for 
 Francis I., Primaticcio obtained permission to purchase 
 
86 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 antique marbles in Italy, and to cast such statues and 
 groups as he could not buy. Benvenuto understood that 
 his adversary, by suggesting comparison, had taken the 
 best way to underrate the merit of the work he intended 
 to do : but he did not shrink from it. 
 
 He worked on his Jupiter during the absence of 
 Primaticcio, and finished it before he returned ; but the 
 Duchess d'Etampes prevailed upon the king not to allow 
 the statue to be set up until Primaticcio returned with 
 his. The antique marbles were much admired, as also 
 were the statues cast from the most celebrated which 
 Italy possessed ; but, after having contemplated all these 
 chefs-d'oeuvre, they could not refuse the most flattering 
 praises to the work of Benvenuto. Cellini owed this 
 triumph more to his address than to his talent. The 
 groups brought from Italy were arranged in the gallery 
 through which the king had to pass, and the Jupiter 
 was placed in a bad light. Cellini knew how to remedy 
 this evil, by putting little rollers under his statue, by 
 means of which he was enabled to advance the master 
 of the gods towards the King of France at the desired 
 moment. 
 
 Benvenuto remained some time longer with Francis 
 I. ; then, tired of seeing himself exposed to the jealousy of 
 Primaticcio, and feeling that he was not liked by the 
 nobles, to whom his haughty manners were disagree- 
 .able, he took leave of his noble protector, and returned 
 to Florence. He cast the statue of Perseus, which is 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 87 
 
 considered his chef-d'oeuvre, in bronze, for Duke Cosmo 
 di Medici, who desired it. 
 
 In Italy he found the envy which he was seeking to 
 avoid. The middling class of artists, whom he did not 
 treat courteously, were his enemies. He nearly killed 
 Baccio Bandinelli, by whom he had been calumniated ; 
 but when he saw him pale and trembling, he pitied and 
 pardoned him. The continual conflict with his rivals 
 soured his temper, and made him misanthropic ; his 
 work failed to afford him distraction of mind. He grew 
 old in the midst of persecutions, exposed to base in- 
 trigues, and, disgusted with humanity', saw the approach 
 of death with joy. He was a zealous admirer of the 
 genius of Michael Angelo, whom he survived six years. 
 Having, like him, suffered all the sadness of isolation, 
 he expired in 1590, at the age of seventy years. 
 
 Benvenuto Cellini has never been equalled as a silver- 
 smith ; and if he is not immortalized in this art, he still 
 holds a high rank among the painters and sculptors of 
 Italy. He is also noted as a writer, and his Memoirs, 
 if we excuse the vanity which seems to have dictated 
 them, are distinguished by a naive and charming style. 
 
88 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 CANOVA. 
 
 Antonio Canova was born in 1747, at Passagno, a 
 small Venetian city. At a very early age he became 
 the protege* of Signer Falieri, one of the first personages 
 in Passagno. While a young child, Antonio took great 
 pleasure in making small figures with crumbs of bread, 
 or bits of clay : these were much admired by his mother 
 and his school companions. As he grew up, he em- 
 ployed all the time not occupied in learning to read and 
 write, in modelling all sorts of animals. One day he 
 made a lion of butter, which was served at the table of 
 Signer Falieri ; and he, charmed with the propensity of 
 Canova for sculpture, provided him with a teacher. 
 
 Antonio profited so well by his instruction, that in a 
 few years he was advised to go to Venice, to study with 
 Torreti, who was considered a very able sculptor, the 
 age of the great masters having passed, and the arts fallen 
 into complete decay. In a short time Canova equalled 
 his teacher, and many prizes being awarded to him by 
 the Academy of Fine Arts, he hired a small shop, in 
 which he established himself. At seventeen years of 
 age, he executed a group of Orpheus and Eurydice, 
 which gave him celebrity ; and his works beginning to 
 be sought after, he quitted his shop for a more conven- 
 ient atelier. 
 
 The greatest eulogiums were bestowed upon his sec- 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 89 
 
 ond group, of Dedalus and Icarus, which appeared 
 soon after. For a long time Venice had not had a sculp- 
 tor worthy of the name ; so that the works of Canova, 
 however imperfect they might be, had enthusiastic ad- 
 mirers, and several patricians ordered statues from the 
 young artist. The group of Dedalus and Icarus was 
 sold for one hundred sequins ; and Canova, on receiving 
 this sum, joyfully cried out, "At last I shall go to 
 Rome ! " 
 
 He felt that he could never reach the perfection to 
 which he aspired without a master, and wished to find 
 models and advice in the city of the fine arts. Gavino 
 Hamilton, an English painter, having seen the Dedalus 
 in plaster, thought that a young man, endowed with so 
 rare a genius, ought to be encouraged, and by his ad- 
 vice the Senate of Venice granted three hundred ducats 
 to Canova, and the ambassador of the republic to the 
 Pope called him to Rome, where he went in 1779. 
 
 There he found an excellent adviser in Gavino Ham- 
 ilton, whose love for the antique had made him a con- 
 noisseur in art. The study of the great works of Mi- 
 chael Angelo enlarged his ideas, improved his taste, and 
 made him feel the need of learning everything possible 
 in his art that was unknown to him. Until then he 
 had obeyed his instinct only while working, without 
 having any exact ideas of. the rules he ought to observe, 
 or of that ideal which gives so great a charm to the 
 works of painters and sculptors. This instruction he 
 
90 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 never had, and he was indebted for it to the Chevalier 
 Hamilton and to Lagrene*e, director of the school foun- 
 ded at Rome by Louis XIV. 
 
 The ambassador of Venice placed a block of marble 
 at the disposition of Canova, and he made of it an 
 Apollo crowning himself. Although this statue was 
 superior to the two groups of which we have spoken, it 
 was not irreproachable. The Apollo was deficient in 
 that grandeur and beauty which imagination lends to the 
 gods : it was a well-chosen model, but did not attain the 
 ideal desired by the young artist. However, Canova 
 had improved too much to feel discouragement. He 
 continued to study with fresh ardor, and went to Venice 
 to finish some works which he had previously begun in 
 that city. While working, he planned a new group, 
 for which he wished to seek and slowly mature a 
 subject. 
 
 Canova returned to Rome in 1792, and made a The- 
 seus Conqueror of the Minotaur. This group showed 
 the intelligent study which the young man had made of 
 the antique models, and astonished the amateurs by an 
 execution which seemed to reveal a well-formed talent. 
 The taste for the antique had been out of fashion for 
 some time ; so that the appearance of the group of The- 
 seus signalized a revolution in the arts. M. Quatre- 
 mere de Quincy, afterwards the friend and historian of 
 Canova, having heard that a young Venetian had just 
 composed a very remarkable group, wishing to judge of 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 91 
 
 the justice of the praises given to it, went to the studio 
 of the sculptor. Canova was absent, and the amateur 
 had a good opportunity to examine the work of which he 
 had heard so much, quite at his ease. He recognized 
 that it merited all the praise which had been bestowed 
 upon it; and, foreseeing the brilliant career which 
 awaited the young artist, offered him his friendship and 
 his counsel. Canova thankfully accepted the precious 
 offers, and found a second brother in his new friend. 
 
 The sculptor had chosen to represent Theseus at the 
 moment when, conqueror of the monster, he seated him- 
 self triumphantly on the body of his enemy. Thanks to 
 this idea, Theseus, who, in the efforts of a contest, 
 could have appeared only as a man, showed, in the 
 calmness of victory, the majesty of a demigod. This 
 work, though one of the first by which the artist made 
 himself known, is still mentioned with honor. 
 
 Canova has left many famous works, among which 
 we shall enumerate the principal which deserve the ad- 
 miration of posterity. He was intrusted with erecting 
 the tomb of Pope Clement XIY. in the Church of the 
 Holy Apostles at Rome, and placed the statue of this 
 Pope standing upon the Mausoleum, with his hands ex- 
 tended, as if to bless the people. The head of the statue 
 is exceedingly beautiful, and, as it were, radiant with 
 that divine charity, that inexpressible kindness, which 
 was the peculiar characteristic of Clement XIV. The 
 tomb of Clement XIII. , which he erected, and which is 
 
92 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 still admired in the Basilica of St. Peter's, surpasses 
 in purity of taste that of Clement XIV. 
 
 The Mausoleum of Maria Christina, Arch-duchess of 
 Austria, is a vast composition of an original idea, but 
 the effect is complicated; nine statues of life size, of 
 which each passed for a chef-d'oeuvre, ornament this 
 monument. 
 
 The Countess d'Albani, whose friendship for the cele- 
 brated poet Alfieri has never been denied, called Canova 
 to Florence, to erect a monument to him in the Church 
 of Santa Croce, which is one of the most beautiful 
 works of the sculptor. Many statues, among which is 
 a Psyche as a Child, and a Washington, date from this 
 period. Psyche, holding a butterfly by the wings, is a 
 little wonder of taste and delicacy ; Washington, a 
 white marble statue, in Roman drapery, was made for 
 the senate chamber of South Carolina, in the United 
 States : it is marked by a grandeur and simplicity worthy 
 of the antique. 
 
 In 1798 Canova left Italy, and travelled through a 
 part of Prussia and Germany, with Prince Rezzonico. 
 On his return from this journey, which lasted two years, 
 he was appointed inspector general of the fine arts, by 
 Pius VII. , and received the title of Roman Knight. 
 His reputation had spread through Europe, and he was 
 invited to Paris, by Bonaparte, in 1802. The artist 
 accepted, with the Pope's consent, and was received 
 with all the distinction due to his rare merit. He was 
 
ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 93 
 
 shown all that France possessed of fine sculpture, both 
 ancient and modern, and the Institution of Fine Arts 
 admitted him to the rank of foreign membership. 
 
 Canova went to Florence again in 1815. Through 
 the conquests of Napoleon, the Museum of the Louvre 
 was enriched by the most remarkable chefs-d'oeuvre of 
 painting and sculpture possessed by foreign museums. 
 The allied powers, after having overcome the great 
 man who had conquered them so many times, did not 
 forget to reclaim the artistic treasures of which he had 
 despoiled them, and it was agreed that all these monu- 
 ments should be returned to their former owners. 
 
 The pontifical government, to which a large propor- 
 tion of these monuments belonged, sent Canova to Paris, 
 with the title of Ambassador, and power to bring back 
 the statues carried from Eome, and attend to their 
 transportation. 
 
 Having executed this commission to the satisfaction 
 of the Pope, Canova was rewarded with a diploma, 
 which testified that his name was written in the golden 
 book of the Capitol, with the title of Marquis d'Ischia. 
 To this title was added a gift of three thousand crowns, 
 Roman money. Canova, enriched by his labor, and sim- 
 ple in his tastes, consecrated his new fortune to the pros- 
 perity of the arts. He was a zealous and benevolent pro- 
 tector of talented youth, to whom he opened his purse, 
 and freely gave his advice. 
 
 The last years of his life were occupied in construct- 
 
94 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 ing a church in his native town, Passagno, where he 
 intended to place a colossal statue of Religion, which 
 could not be admitted into the Basilica of St. Peter's. 
 This building is a Rotunda, in stone, in imitation of the 
 Parthenon at Athens, which is of marble. 
 
 Canova died at Venice, the twenty-second of October, 
 1822, without seeing the completion of his church. He 
 was buried with great pomp, and there were magnificent 
 funeral services in honor of him in all the Italian cities. 
 For many years this classic country had not produced a 
 genius comparable to Canova, and during his long and 
 glorious career, he enriched it with a great number of 
 chefs-d'oeuvre. It was just that all Italy should render 
 him this last tribute of respect. 
 
PAINTERS. 
 
 THE FIRST PAINTERS. 
 
 VERY little is known of the history of painting among 
 the Greeks until the ninetieth Olympiad, that is to say, 
 four hundred and twenty years before the Christian era. 
 However, it is certain that the origin of this art is much 
 more remote, since they painted at the time of the siege 
 of Troy : historians tell us that Helena drew, on tap- 
 estry, the many battles caused by her abduction. 
 
 The first Greek painters made use of one color only. 
 Eumaris used two, one for the skin, the other for the 
 clothing. Cimon, his pupil, used still more. Hereto- 
 fore painters had represented only two figures, and 
 these standing side by side, presenting a front view. 
 Cimon gave them various attitudes, and conceived the 
 idea of putting folds in his draperies. 
 
 Bularchos, who lived about seven hundred years 
 before Christ, painted the Battle of Magnesia, and, 
 according to Pliny, Candaulus, king of Lydia, paid for 
 this picture its weight in gold. 
 
 (95) 
 
96 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Without doubt Bularchos had pupils and successors ; 
 however, there is no mention of any painter between 
 him and Panoenus, brother of the famous sculptor Phid- 
 ias. Pancenus painted the Battle of Marathon. It 
 would be difficult to give an idea of the enthusiasm 
 which the sight of this picture excited ; its chief person- 
 ages were portraits of striking resemblance. 
 
 The celebrated Polygnote appeared about the same 
 time, that is, four hundred and fifty years before the 
 Christian era. This painter was born at Thasos, an 
 island in the -ZEgean Sea. He studied under the best 
 masters, but dissatisfied with their teachings, declined 
 following them, and devoted himself entirely to the study 
 of nature. He ornamented the porticoes of Athens with 
 paintings of subjects from episodes of the siege of Troy. 
 
 For this beautiful work the Athenians offered him 
 considerable sums, which he generously refused, saying, 
 that since he had been so happy as to obtain the ap- 
 plause of an enlightened people like those of Athens, he 
 had nothing more to desire. 
 
 This answer was carried to the tribunal of the Arn- 
 phictyons, and the tribunal ordered, by a decree which 
 was solemnly promulgated, that Polygnote should be 
 lodged in the State Palace, nourished at the public ex- 
 pense, exempted from taxes during his whole life, and 
 that every city in Greece, where he should choose to go, 
 should receive him with honor, and entertain him mag- 
 nificently. "The Chiefs of the State," said this decree, 
 
PAINTERS. ( J7 
 
 " reiga by force, but the artist reigns by his talent ; then 
 it is just to render more homage to him who owes 
 everything to his own merit, than to those elevated to 
 power by force of circumstances." 
 
 Polygnote, so worthily recompensed, worked with 
 new ardor, and perfected himself daily. At that time 
 they painted in encaustic, or wax, upon ivory and wood. 
 The colors for this kind of painting were laid on while 
 warm, and lasted, without alteration, for many centuries. 
 If we may believe the historian, the beauty of the pic- 
 ture of the Sacking of Troy, by Polygnote, would have 
 been preserved during nine hundred years ; and it would 
 have braved the outrages of time still longer, if it had 
 not been destroyed at Constantinople. 
 
 Apollodorus, who was celebrated at Athens some 
 time after Polygnote, gave a great impetus to painting : 
 he was the first who joined the understanding of color 
 and the science of foreshortening to correct drawing. 
 His paintings were true to nature, and he gave the ap- 
 pearance of movement and life to the scenes which he 
 represented. He studied the distribution of light and 
 shade with extreme care, and left the works of all his 
 predecessors far behind him. In the time of Pliny, there 
 were two pictures by Apollodorus, at Pergamos : an 
 Ajax destroyed by Minerva, and a Priest at prayer; 
 both these pictures are regarded as chefs-d'oeuvre. 
 
 Apollodorus had many disciples, the most illustrious 
 of whom was Zeuxis, who was to surpass his master. 
 7 
 
98 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 He was not slow in discovering the wonderful ability of 
 his pupil, and the success of the young man embittered 
 his last days. Excited by blind jealousy, Apollodorus 
 laid down his pencil for the pen, and published a satire 
 against Zeuxis, in which he accused him of having stolen 
 his talent from him : this satire served only to enhance 
 the reputation of the artist to whom Apollodorus ren- 
 dered such brilliant homage. 
 
 ZEUXIS. AEISTIDES. 
 
 Zeuxis was born at Heraclius : he was naturally gifted 
 with a taste for the arts, particularly for painting. A 
 pupil of Apollodorus, he soon equalled his master, and 
 discovering new processes, his works were sought in 
 preference to those of Apollodorus. An artist seldom 
 sees the pupil whom he has taught surpass him, and 
 diminish the splendor of his name, without bitterness of 
 feeling. Apollodorus used his poetical talent in decry- 
 ing Zeuxis, who did not trouble himself to reply to the 
 railleries and injuries of his master. 
 
 "If I were not the most able," said he, "I should be 
 less hated ; his hatred is the most sincere homage which 
 my talent could desire." 
 
 The satire of Apollodorus served only to draw the at- 
 tention of all Greece to the masterpieces of Zeuxis, and 
 happy was he who possessed one of them. Connoisseurs 
 
PAINTERS. 99 
 
 admired the purity of design, the truthfulness of color- 
 ing, and the grace of posture to which no other painter 
 had attained, and purchased his pictures, actually cover- 
 ing them with gold. In a few years Zeuxis possessed 
 an immense fortune, and was surrounded with the lux- 
 uries of a prince. He dressed in purple, and was fol- 
 lowed by a retinue of servants when he went out. At 
 the Olympic games, his slaves were conspicuous by the 
 magnificence of their attire, upon which the name of the 
 great artist, to whom they had the honor of belonging, 
 was embroidered in letters of gold. 
 
 Zeuxis now declared that he would sell no more of 
 his pictures ; that no one was rich enough to pay the 
 value of them. However, it is said that when he made 
 a present of a picture to a friend, he first put it on 
 exhibition in his studio, and required payment from 
 those who came to admire it. 
 
 Zeuxis worked slowly ; he would never allow any pic- 
 ture to be criticised which he did not think worthy of 
 his high reputation. Some one having expressed as- 
 tonishment at the length of time he required, while 
 ordinary artists painted so rapidly, Zeuxis replied, 
 
 " It is because I work for immortality." 
 
 He did not deceive himself, for his glory has come 
 down to our times. 
 
 The great artists were generally conscious of their tal- 
 ents ; and if modesty has enhanced the merits of many 
 of them, it is not in pagan antiquity that their names 
 
100 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 are to be found. Zeuxis did not believe that any painter 
 could compete with him, and he wrote below one of his 
 pictures, which represented an athlete, "It will be 
 easier to criticise than to imitate this." 
 
 Yet he was not the only artist of which Greece was 
 proud : Timanthes shone in Sicyon, Aristides in Thebes, 
 Parrhasius in Ephesus, and Pamphylis in Macedonia. 
 
 Parrhasius enjoyed an immense reputation, and was 
 considered a king among painters. Zeuxis, on his part, 
 claimed the same title, and it was agreed that each of 
 them should submit the work which he considered as his 
 best, to the examination of judges chosen from both 
 sides, and that a jury should decide. 
 
 Zeuxis excelled in the imitation of nature, and painted 
 flowers and fruits exquisitely. He offered a picture for 
 examination, which represented a child carrying upon 
 its head a basket of grapes. This work was no sooner 
 exposed on the place where the judges were assembled, 
 than the birds came to peck at the finely painted fruit. 
 The multitude burst into loud acclamations of applause, 
 and Zeuxis, sure of the victory, received the felicitations 
 of his friends. Parrhasius admired the talent of his 
 adversary ; but he did not despair of success, and stood 
 silent near his picture. A curtain of a light and silky 
 stuff covered his work, and every one was impatient to 
 see it drawn aside. 
 
 Zeuxis, a little annoyed by the calmness of Parrhasius, 
 tore himself away from the compliments of his party, 
 and went towards him, saying, 
 
PAINTERS. 101 
 
 " Why do you delay letting us see your chef-d'oeuvre 9 
 Draw the curtain." 
 
 " This curtain is my picture ; " replied Parrhasius. 
 
 Zeuxis did not believe him, and stretched forth his 
 hand to draw the light curtain aside. 
 
 "I am conquered!" cried he, recognizing his error. 
 " I have deceived only birds ; but Parrhasius has de- 
 ceived me." 
 
 Zeuxis never forgot this defeat ; and when his friends 
 wished to console him, by saying that one must be a 
 great artist to deceive the instinct of the birds, he 
 replied, 
 
 " If my picture had been as good as you pretend, the 
 sight of the child who carries the basket of grapes would 
 have frightened away the greedy birds." 
 
 This reflection appeared as just to his friends as to him- 
 self. But the victory of Parrhasius did not detract from 
 the general admiration of the paintings of Zeuxis. 
 
 The city of Agrigentum sent a deputation to him, 
 begging him to paint a portrait of Helen. Zeuxis con- 
 sented, on condition that they should select a model for 
 him from among the most beautiful girls in Agrigentum. 
 The Agrigentines found it very difficult to choose, and 
 therefore conducted to Athens all those who appeared to 
 have a right to the preference. Zeuxis retained five 
 of them, and taking whatever was most perfect from 
 each, composed a magnificent picture, which was con- 
 sidered his chef-d'oeuvre. 
 
102 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Zeuxis, as we have said, imitated nature marvellous- 
 ly ; but he was less successful in rendering the senti- 
 ments and the passions of the soul, a talent absolutely 
 necessary to the painter who desires to please and to. 
 touch the feelings. 
 
 Aristides of Thebes, inferior to Zeuxis in regard to 
 the elegance and finish of his pictures, excelled him 
 very much in expression. Zeuxis spoke to the eyes, 
 Aristides to the soul. If Aristides painted a sick per- 
 son , the beholder was moved to pity his sufferings ; a 
 beggar, he was tempted to offer him alms ; in short, he 
 animated his subjects. Pliny speaks of a picture in 
 which the artist represented the pillaging of a city. In 
 the foreground a woman, struck in the breast by a 
 poniard, lay in the agonies of death. A little child, 
 fallen at her side, was groping towards her to seek its 
 ordinary nourishment. The poor woman seemed to look 
 at it with pity and affright, for it was not her milk, but 
 her blood, that he was about to suck. The engross- 
 ment of her mind, her maternal anguish in the face of 
 death, whose merciless grasp she felt, the heart-rending 
 farewell look she cast upon the infant, all these impres- 
 sions were so truthfully rendered, that those who stopped 
 to look at the picture were moved to tears, or to curse 
 the war which brought such grief in its train. 
 
 If Aristides had been more careful in coloring, if his 
 pencillings had been softer, or not so austere, few paint- 
 ers could have equalled him. These faults did not pre- 
 
PAINTERS. 103 
 
 vent his having a glorious career, and his pictures were 
 so highly valued, that he was paid ninety thousand francs 
 for his Combat against the Persians. 
 
 There were many of his paintings in the city of Coi*- 
 inth, when it was taken by the Romans. At this period 
 the masters of the world were very ignorant in matters 
 of art : Attains, king of Pergamos, having offered a 
 considerable sum for one of these pictures, the consul 
 Muinmius imagined that there must be some magic vir- 
 tue in the picture, and refused to let him have it. The 
 soldiers, knowing no more of the value of paintings than 
 the consul, broke the chefs-d'oeuvre without remorse, or 
 used them for tables on which to play with dice. 
 
 But to return to Zeuxis, whom we have for an in- 
 stant forgotten. This painter worked many years, and 
 always with good success. If we can believe Verrius 
 Flaccus, it was his talent which cost him his life. Look- 
 ing at the portrait, or rather the caricature of an old 
 woman which he had painted, he burst into such an im- 
 moderate fit of laughter as to cause his death. 
 
 PARBHASIUS. TIMANTHES. 
 
 Parrhasius, son of the painter Evenor, was for a short 
 time the pupil of his father ; but, when finding that he 
 could learn nothing more of him, he consulted only his 
 own genius, and made rapid progress in drawing : he 
 
104 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 studied proportions carefully, and exceeded his pred- 
 ecessors in correctness of features. Under Socrates he 
 learned the expressions which ordinarily characterize 
 profound affections, or lively sentiments of the soul, and 
 was intent upon rendering them truthfully. His fig- 
 ures were elegant ; his touches wise and sprightly ; his 
 pencil easy and graceful. 
 
 The fortune of Parrhasius soon equalled his celebrity, 
 and his opulence exceeded that of Zeuxis. He had so 
 great an opinion of his own talent, that he never spoke 
 of himself without the greatest eulogiums, never went 
 out unless dressed in purple and crowned with gold, 
 and thought that no one in the world could pretend to 
 equal him. 
 
 His victory over Zeuxis only increased his pride, and 
 an assembly of painters meeting at Samos, he presented 
 himself, sure of excelling all his rivals. The subject 
 given was the indignation of Ajax at seeing the arms of 
 Achilles awarded to Ulysses. 
 
 The picture of Parrhasius was magnificent ; but that 
 of Timanthes of Sicyon bore off the palm. Parrhasius 
 would not acknowledge himself vanquished, as Zeuxis 
 had done a few years previous. 
 
 "I pity Ajax," said he, to one of his friends; "see 
 him conquered a second time by an adversary unworthy 
 of him." 
 
 Parrhasius was wrong in denying the merit of his 
 rival, for Timanthes was one of the most illustrious paint- 
 
w l ( 
 
 ^dintv&$\ 
 
 PAINTERS. 105 
 
 ers of antiquity. He was gifted with great genius, to 
 which all historians have rendered justice, and all have 
 considered his picture of Iphigenia as a masterpiece. 
 
 In this composition, Tirnanthes represented Iphigeni^ 
 adorned with all the graces of youth, all the nobleness 
 of a brave and generous soul, and that aureole of sub- 
 lime devotion on the brow, together with all the melan- 
 choly charm which the approach of a cruel death could 
 shed upon the physiognomy of a young girl. Calchas, 
 calm and majestic in his grief, stood near the altar, 
 ready to accomplish the sacrifice required by the gods. 
 Profound sadness was imprinted upon the countenances 
 of Ajax and the other personages present at the scene ; 
 but nothing could compare with the heart-rending deso- 
 lation of Menelaus, uncle of the princess. Thus far the 
 artist had a right to be proud of his work ; he had suc- 
 ceeded marvellously ; but he had yet to paint the des- 
 pair of Agamemnon. Understanding that he could not 
 succeed in expressing the tortures of the father about to 
 sacrifice that which he loved most in the world, the 
 beautiful and delicate Iphigenia, his pride, his hope, his 
 only joy, for the salvation of the army, Timanthes had 
 the ingenuity to cover the face of the unhappy prince 
 with a veil, and leave the affected spectator to imagine 
 this immense and terrible grief. 
 
 This is a proof of genius, because the artist leaves 
 infinitely more to imagination than it would have been 
 possible to express. Succeeding artists have taken ad- 
 
106 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 vantage of this idea, and the great French painter 
 Poussin did not fear to make use of it in his picture of 
 Grermanicus. 
 
 We cannot help thinking that the judgment of Par- 
 rhasius, in regard to the picture of his adversary, was 
 governed by a spitefulness which rendered him unjust. 
 However, new successes speedily consoled him for this 
 defeat. He painted an allegorical picture for the Athe- 
 nians which gained him universal applause. It is well 
 known that no people were so unstable as the Athenians, 
 now proud and haughty, then timid and humble ; to-day 
 full of humanity and clemency, to-morrow savage, vin- 
 dictive, and cruel. The talent by which Parrhasius 
 succeeded in representing this fickleness in its various 
 phases, set a seal upon his reputation. 
 
 The greatest reproach that can be made to this artist 
 is, that he was inordinately proud of his talent. It is 
 true that he has been accused of cruelly torturing to death 
 a slave, whom he bought at the taking of Olynthus, by 
 Philip, king of Macedon, that he might have a truth- 
 ful representation from which to paint the agonies of 
 Prometheus while a vulture was gnawing his vitals. 
 But we should remember that proofs are needed for such 
 a story ; and as there are none, we prefer to believe that 
 Parrhasius was indebted to his talent for the skill with 
 which he rendered the sufferings of Prometheus, rather 
 than to the sight of tortures inflicted upon his slave. 
 
 Similar acts of cruelty have been imputed to modern 
 
PAINTERS. 107 
 
 artists, among them Michael Angelo ; but as their 
 entire life discredits such deeds, why may we not sup- 
 pose that Parrhasius has likewise been unjustly ac- 
 cused. 
 
 Some time after the death of Parrhasius and Timan- 
 thes, the Greek school was divided into two factions ; 
 the school of Athens and that of Sicyon, which Apelles 
 has imortalized. 
 
 APELLES. 
 
 Apelles, the most illustrious of the painters of an- 
 tiquity, was born in the island of Cos, three hundred 
 and thirty two years before the Christian era. Pithius, 
 his father, finding that he had great taste for the arts, 
 sent him to Ephesus to learn painting of Ephorus, who 
 had a considerable number of pupils. 
 
 Apelles made such rapid progress as to astonish his 
 teacher. Not only did he possess great facility for 
 learning, but he was also extremely industrious. He 
 would have considered a day lost in which he had not 
 made marked progress. Such a disposition would suf- 
 fice to enable a young man of medium ability to make 
 himself superior ; and it is no wonder that Apelles, so 
 gifted by nature, should soon be obliged to seek a higher 
 school than that of Ephorus. 
 
 At that time Pamphilus, of Amphipolis, directed the 
 most celebrated school of Greece. He was learned in 
 
108 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 the sciences, in literature and the arts ; but painting was 
 his specialty. It was considered a great honor to be 
 admitted among his pupils ; and although he required an 
 engagement often years, and the payment of one talent, 
 that is, five thousand and four hundred francs, French 
 money, the number of young people who presented 
 themselves was so great that Pamphilus was obliged to 
 refuse money. 
 
 Painting was most esteemed among the liberal arts, 
 and every family was anxious that some of their children 
 should learn it. The right to learn painting was reg- 
 ulated by a decree of the state, which permitted those of 
 the highest rank, then those young people of families in 
 easy circumstances ; but formally interdicted the priv- 
 ilege to slaves. 
 
 Apelles presented himself at the school of Pamphilus, 
 who, satisfied with his examination, gladly received him 
 upon his accepting the condition of remaining ten years. 
 Correct and elegant drawing, a noble and bold touch, 
 and above all, an inimitable grace, made the productions 
 of Apelles so many chefs-d'oeuvre. 
 
 The young painter had acquired a great reputation 
 before he left the school of Pamphilus for that of Sicyon, 
 which was thought to excel all others in the truly 
 beautiful. Apelles perfected himself there, and his name 
 was celebrated throughout Greece. 
 
 So faithful were his delineations of nature, that she 
 seemed to guide his pencil. He seized her slightest 
 
PAINTERS. 109 
 
 expressions, her faintest shades, and reproduced them with 
 an inexpressible charm. He was endowed with an in- 
 ventive genius, arranged his personages with taste, and 
 knew how to spread the charm of poetry over all his 
 compositions. 
 
 Although he used but four colors, they were true, 
 vivid, and brilliant. The composition of the varnish 
 which he used has never been known : Pliny says that 
 its essential properties were to render the colors smooth- 
 er and softer, to improve the appearance of the painting, 
 and to preserve it from dust. The secret of making 
 this varnish, of which Apelles was the inventor, died 
 with him, and was only replaced, centuries after, by the 
 discovery which John Van Eyck made of painting in oil. 
 
 Apelles was not unconscious of his own rare merit : 
 but, wiser than Parrhasius, he admitted that of others 
 without jealousy, and, persuaded that man has always 
 something to learn, he was grateful to the visitors of his 
 studio for their advice and suggestions. Finding these 
 suggestions occasionally useful, he placed each picture 
 on exhibition, as it was finished, that the public might 
 freely praise or criticise. Concealed behind a curtain, 
 he listened to what they said, enjoying the disinterested 
 praises accorded to him, and improving by such criti- 
 cisms as he found to be just. 
 
 One day, a shoemaker, who, like others, stopped 
 before a picture thus exposed, observed that something 
 was wanting in the sandal of one of the personages, and 
 
110 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 spoke of it ; Apelles, knowing that the shoemaker was a 
 better judge than he, corrected the fault. The next 
 day, the same picture being on exhibition, the shoe- 
 maker, very proud at seeing that his criticism was ac- 
 cepted, thought himself a man of talent, and began to 
 criticise the leg to which the sandal belonged. But 
 Apelles, coming forward, and striking him on the shoul- 
 der, said to him, " Ne sutor ultra crepidam." (The shoe- 
 maker must not go beyond his last. ) These words havo 
 been rendered proverbial by the fables of Phaedrus. 
 
 Apelles, desirous of seeing celebrated painters, went 
 to Rhodes, where Protogenes lived. This illustrious 
 artist was absent when Apelles called at his studio. 
 Apelles amused himself by sketching upon canvas where 
 a picture was already .commenced. Protogenes, who 
 did not expect a visit from Apelles, exclaimed, when he 
 saw the drawing, " Apelles has been here ! " So true 
 it is that a single line betrays a great master. Proto- 
 genes added lines still more perfect to the sketch ; but 
 when the illustrious visitor carne again, he surpassed his 
 previous work. Protogenes, filled with admiration, 
 proclaimed him the greatest painter in the world, and 
 swore eternal friendship with him. 
 
 From this time these two great men professed the 
 highest esteem and most disinterested affection for each 
 other. The friendship which unites two artists of em- 
 inent talent, and excites a noble emulation between them, 
 defies hatred and envy. This friendship is as beautiful 
 
PAINTERS. Ill 
 
 as it is rare ; unfortunately, men of genius, who seem so 
 well constituted to understand each other, often allow 
 pride and the immoderate desire of glory to take posses- 
 sion of their hearts ; unwilling that another should share 
 in this glory, they sacrifice every noble and generous 
 feeling, and their rival becomes almost their enemy. 
 
 Alexander the Great, having seen the beautiful works 
 of Apelles, chose him for his painter, and forbade any 
 other to take his likeness. The first portrait which the 
 artist made of this prince was an Alexander the Thun- 
 derer, which was proclaimed a chef-d'oeuvre, par excel- 
 lence. The hand which held the thunderbolt was par- 
 ticularly admired it was so finely painted that it seemed 
 to come out from the clouds by which it was surround- 
 ed. Alexander was in ecstasy; he loaded the painter 
 with riches, and honored him with his friendship. He 
 took pleasure in going to see him paint, and in convers- 
 ing with him upon the secrets of his art. 
 
 The picture of Alexander the Thunderer having 
 been placed in the temple of Diana, at Ephesus, the 
 conqueror wished to have another portrait, and begged 
 Apelles to paint him mounted upon Bucephalus ; to 
 which the artist consented. When the picture was 
 finished, Alexander was not so well satisfied as with the 
 first, and complained that his beautiful battle-horse was 
 not well represented. Apelles, who was quite satisfied 
 with the horse, was about to try to prove to the king that 
 he was mistaken, when a mare, passing near where the 
 
112 THE PlilNCES OF ART. 
 
 picture stood, stopped before the horse, and began to 
 neigh. The painter turned to Alexander, and said, 
 
 " Shall this animal be a better judge of painting than 
 the King of Macedon ? " 
 
 Alexander, smiling, gave his hand to the artist : after 
 such a proof, Bucephalus could not fail of being perfect. 
 
 While the conqueror lived, Apelles enjoyed his affec- 
 tion and kindness. Great princes have always honored 
 artists, and the glory which they have received from 
 them has often been more durable than that of their 
 conquests. 
 
 After the death of Alexander, Apelles went to Egypt, 
 and lived for a time at the court of Ptolemy. This 
 prince did not accord him the friendly protection which 
 Alexander had done. Envy, which creeps about thrones 
 to prevent the approach of talent and merit, was fright- 
 ened at the reception of the Greek painter by Ptolemy. 
 He must be sent away, cost what it would, for they had 
 as much to fear from his uprightness as from his great 
 genius. They accused him of having entered into a 
 conspiracy to murder the king. It was in vain that 
 Apelles defended himself, setting forth the guarantee of 
 a pure life, wholly consecrated to the culture of art; 
 his opponents had too much interest at stake to allow 
 his voice to be heard, and he was about to be con- 
 demned, when the real conspirators were discovered. 
 
 Apelles hastened from this inhospitable court, and 
 went to Ephesus, where, under the influence of a soul 
 
PAINTERS. 113 
 
 filled with indignation at the mean and cruel conduct of 
 his enemies, he painted the best known of mVworks the 
 picture of Calumny. 
 
 He died soon after, never having seen his sublime 
 talent grow dim, nor having met a rival who could be 
 preferred to him. 
 
 Apelles left three treatises relative to art, which exist- 
 ed in the time of Pliny, and in which he gives details 
 upon the study of the passions and sentiments expressed 
 in the human face ; upon the science of position ; upon 
 the manner of seizing resemblances ; and finally, upon 
 the profile. It is said that he was the first who made use 
 of profile. According to Pliny, he invented it to conceal 
 the deformity of Antigonus, who had but one eye, and 
 who requested him to paint his portrait. 
 
 The portrait of Antigonus on Horseback, Venus An- 
 adyomenes, that is to say, coming out of the water, 
 and Diana in the Midst of a Choir of Virgins, are the 
 most highly esteemed of the great master's works, after 
 the Calumny. 
 
 The ancients have given the following description of 
 this picture : 
 
 A man with long ears, similar to those of Midas, is 
 seated on the right hand of the composition ; he extends 
 his hand to Accusation, who is approaching from a dis- 
 tance ; near him are two females, one of whom appears 
 to be Ignorance, the other Suspicion. Accusation 
 comes forward under the form of a perfectly beautiful 
 8 
 
114 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 woman ; her face is red, and she appears to be violently 
 agitated and excited with anger : in one hand she holds 
 a burning torch ; with the other she drags a young man 
 by the hair of his head, while he lifts his hands to heaven. 
 A pale and disfigured man acts as her conductor ; his 
 sombre and fixed appearance and his extreme leanness 
 make him resemble those sick persons who are atten- 
 uated by long abstinence : he is easily recognized as 
 Envy. Two other women accompany Accusation, en- 
 couraging her, arranging her vesture and caring for 
 her ornaments : one is Deceit, the other Perfidy : these 
 are followed in the distance by a woman, whose sadness 
 and black and torn garments announce Repentance ; she 
 turns her head, sheds tears, and is confused at seeing 
 tardy Truth advancing. 
 
 PROTOGENES. 
 
 Protogenes was born about the year 350 before the 
 Christian era, at Caune, a city situated upon the southerly 
 side of the Island of Rhodes. Nothing is known of his 
 infancy or youth, except that he passed them in poverty : 
 we do not even know the name of the master who taught 
 him painting. Without doubt it was some obscure 
 painter, whose lessons, without the aid of the genius 
 with which nature had endowed Protogenes, would have 
 failed to produce fruits. 
 
PAINTERS. 115 
 
 Passionately fond of labor, but never willing to leave 
 a work which he thought he could improve, the young 
 artist remained many years unknown. At the age of 
 fifty years, Protogenea was employed, in subordination 
 to another, in the decoration of the magnificent vessels 
 which the Greeks enriched with painting and sculpture : 
 the work was admired, and he was better paid than he 
 had hitherto been, besides having leisure to paint sub- 
 jects of his own choice. 
 
 He painted some charming little pictures, and por- 
 traits of striking resemblance and fine finish. These 
 pictures and portraits were the commencement of his for- 
 tune and his reputation ; but Protogenes saw only one 
 point in this fortune and reputation ; namely, liberty to 
 study art without the distraction of material preoccupa- 
 tion. 
 
 Aristotle, who was very fond of this artist, and ap- 
 preciated his talent, advised him to leave the simple 
 things which he was in the habit of painting, and under- 
 take some great composition. The philosopher wished 
 Alexander, his august pupil, to choose Protogenes to 
 represent the victories which have rendered him im- 
 mortal ; but Protogenes, who knew the danger of for- 
 cing genius, would not suffer himself to be seduced by 
 the brilliant hopes with which Aristotle tried to inspire 
 him, and preferred to obey his own inspirations : how- 
 ever, Aristotle continued to urge him, until he at length 
 consented to undertake a battle-piece. 
 
116 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Protogenes joined much delicacy and energy to cor- 
 rect drawing. His picture representing the Hunter 
 Jalysus is considered his best piece. He worked upon 
 it seven years, living only upon vegetables and water, 
 fearing that the use of meats and wine would weaken 
 his mind and make his hand unsteady. At the end of 
 seven years, he considered the principal figure only as 
 finished ; the others appeared to him very imperfect ; but 
 that which chiefly occupied him was the dog of Jalysus. 
 In vain those who saw the picture expatiated upon the 
 beauty of the dog ; Protogenes was not satisfied with it. 
 He wished to represent it as panting, the mouth foam- 
 ing, and he had not succeeded. The more praise he 
 received, the more he wished to make it as perfect as 
 possible. He set himself to work with renewed ardor, 
 and passed several days in trying to make the dog as he 
 wished it ; but, notwithstanding his talent and patience, 
 his efforts were unsatisfactory. Despairing of success, 
 he effaced, for the hundredth time, perhaps, the foam, 
 which he could not imitate, and in a fit of vexation, 
 threw his sponge, wet with the color he had just removed, 
 at the dog's mouth. What did he care if he spoiled the 
 picture, since he could not make it what he desired? 
 
 But O, joy ! chance had done for him what art had 
 failed to do : now it was like real foam coming from the 
 jaws of Jalysus' brave companion, and difficult as Pro- 
 togenes had been to be satisfied, he now asked no more. 
 
 When Apelles saw this picture, he cried out, "The 
 
PAINTERS. 117 
 
 genius of man has never produced anything more wonder- 
 ful ! " He was extremely surprised to learn that these 
 beautiful works received but little admiration, and that 
 the Khodians could not appreciate them. He then 
 offered to buy all the pictures which Protogenes should 
 make, since his fellow-countrymen did not care to keep 
 the works of an artist who was an honor to his country. 
 However, it was not necessary to accept this generous 
 offer ; for the Rhodians, having heard what Apelles said 
 of the talent of Protogenes, opened their eyes, and pro- 
 claimed him truly illustrious : they bought his pictures 
 to prevent their ornamenting the palaces of foreign 
 princes. They paid a great price for the Hunter Jalysus, 
 the hunter passing for the grandson of the Sun, and 
 the founder of Rhodes. 
 
 Protogenes was unwilling to deliver this picture with- 
 out retouching it, and it was not completed when he 
 heard that Demetrius Poliorcetes was about to besiege 
 Rhodes. This news caused him to redouble his zeal, so 
 that if anything should happen to him, his picture might 
 be completed. The painter lived in a suburban town, 
 which was soon invaded by the enemy's troops ; but 
 neither the noise of arms, nor the interruption of the 
 soldiers, who came into his studio, could disturb him 
 for a moment. 
 
 Demetrius, hearing that a Rhodian continued to paint 
 as if all was quiet about him in the midst of the perplex- 
 ities of the siege, thought that the Rhodian must be 
 Protogenes, and wished to see him. 
 
118 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Demetrius called him by name, and after having paid 
 a just tribute of admiration to his works, asked him how 
 he could be sufficiently composed to paint, surrounded 
 as he was by danger. 
 
 "I knew," said the painter, "that you wage war 
 against the Khodians, and not against the fine arts." 
 
 The prince, pleased with this answer, assured him of 
 his friendship. Guards were stationed at the door of 
 the studio, that the artist might be undisturbed ; and a 
 few days after, Deme'trius, perceiving that the only 
 means by which he could get possession of the city 
 would be to burn the place on which the studio stood, 
 preferred to raise the siege rather than expose the works 
 of Protogenes to almost certain destruction. 
 
 Thus Rhodes owed its safety to the talent of Pro- 
 togenes ; and we can well imagine that they rendered 
 him the most flattering homage. 
 
 Zeuxis, Aristides, Parrhasius, Timanthes, Apelles, and 
 Protogenes were the most celebrated painters that Greece 
 can boast of. It was not long before the art-which they 
 had carried to so high a degree of perfection began to 
 decline, and the wars of which Greece was the theatre 
 hastened their decay. It is said, however, that Asclepi- 
 odorus, Nicomachus, and Pausias, all contemporaries 
 of Apelles, preserved the traditions of the great masters. 
 Asclepiodorus drew so correctly as to meet the appro- 
 bation of Apelles. Nicomachus painted with great 
 facility : it is said that he made pictures as Homer made 
 
PAINTERS. 119 
 
 verses ; and Pausias decorated the ceiling and walls of 
 the palace of paintings in encaustic, and represented 
 flowers most truthfully. He succeeded equally well in 
 other styles, and a picture in which he painted Drunk- 
 enness, so that the face was seen illumined through the 
 enormous glass from which he was drinking, has been 
 much praised. 
 
 Then came Euphranor, Nicias, Timonachus of By- 
 zantium, who all made laudable efforts for the glory of 
 painting ; Pyreicus, also, painted common subjects, as 
 markets, inns, barbers' and shoemakers' shops, and 
 caricatures of all sorts, which were very much liked. 
 
 Art never recovered her dignity after Pyreicus, and 
 Greece, conquered by the Romans, had no more cel- 
 ebrated painters. 
 
 TITIAN GIORGIONE. 
 
 Tiziano Vecelli was born at Cadore, on the borders of 
 Friuli, about the year 1477, and at first received a 
 learned education. He lived in habits of intimacy with 
 philosophers and poets of his time, with Ariosto at 
 Ferrara, Pietro Aretino at Venice, &c. His family was 
 one of the oldest of the republic of Venice, and Saint 
 Titian, Bishop of Odezza, his patron, belonged to the 
 family. 
 
 His father put him under the care of the teacher of 
 
120 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 the village nearest his castle, until he was old enough to 
 be sent to some college of note. Here he learned to 
 read and write, and appeared to have no desire to go 
 farther in his studies, at least in the sciences which his 
 professor taught. He had no greater pleasure than to 
 escape the vigilance of this teacher, and run through the 
 fields gathering flowers, whose brilliant colors he ad- 
 mired, and making bouquets. Returning to his class, 
 he would destroy the beautiful flowers, and use their 
 juice in painting other flowers upon his copy-books. 
 
 At first, the young Titian was severely reprimanded, 
 because he not only did not know his lessons, but he 
 distracted the attention of his schoolmates, who were 
 curious to examine his pictures. When the teacher 
 became convinced that his pupil had a decided taste for 
 the arts, he informed Signor Yecelli, and advised him 
 not to thwart him in this vocation. % 
 
 His advice was accepted, and Titian was taken to 
 Venice, and at the age of twelve years placed in the 
 studio of Gentile Bellini. Gentile and Jean Bellini 
 were then in great reputation, and although united by 
 the strictest friendship, they worked with extreme ardor, 
 and endeavored to surpass each other. Gentile im- 
 mediately recognized the gift of the young Yecelli, who 
 made rapid progress in a short time, but who, once in- 
 itiated into the principles of painting, no longer adhered 
 to the rules of the master. Gentile tried in vain to 
 guide him, and finally, indignant at what he supposed 
 
PAINTERS. 121 
 
 to be obstinacy, predicted that he would never be any- 
 thing but a dauber. 
 
 Gentile was chosen by the republic of Venice to go to 
 the Sultan Mahomet II., who was desirous of employ- 
 ing a skilful artist, and Titian passed into Jean's studio. 
 The method of Jean was nearly the same as that of 
 Gentile, but his style was bolder than that of his brother : 
 the attempts of Titian, remarkable for softness, grace, 
 and a peculiar charm, pleased him. 
 
 The first known works of Jean Bellini are some por- 
 traits, an Angel holding the young Tobias by the Hand, 
 a Nativity, and a picture representing the Virgin, St. 
 Hoch, and /St. /Sebastian a picture which he painted 
 for the church of his native village. 
 
 About this time Giorgio Barbarelli, of Castel Franco, 
 entered the school of Jean Bellini. This new pupil, 
 about the age of Titian, was of humble origin ; but his 
 manners were so elegant, his mind so distinguished, that 
 no young Venetian gentleman could surpass him. A 
 fine voice, a rare talent for music, joined to an agreeable 
 exterior, had opened the most aristocratic halls to him, 
 and Jean Bellini knew that he was an artist of great 
 hope, when he consented to admit him into his studio. 
 
 Very soon Giorgio was the king of it. His bold, 
 proud, and lively character conciliated the affection of 
 all his fellow-students, while his aptness gained for him 
 the esteem of his master. Giorgio, bestowing the same 
 ardor upon painting which he did upon other things, 
 
122 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 and being endowed with an exquisite feeling for the 
 beautiful in art, soon learned all that Bellini could teach. 
 The study of the works of Leonardo da Vinci opened to 
 him a new field, into which he boldly rushed. 
 
 Jean Bellini, too much a slave to routine, blamed the 
 impetuosity of his pupil, and tried to lead him back to 
 the sobriety of colors, and austerity of the types which 
 he had himself adopted ; but the genius of Giorgio 
 spoke louder than the precepts of Bellini, and although 
 the master predicted what would happen, he could 
 not help admiring this young talent, and showing par- 
 ticular affection and indulgence to Barbarelli. 
 
 Titian became the intimate friend of Giorgio, and his 
 ardent admirer. He found in his pictures what he had 
 so long regretted as wanting in those of Bellini life, 
 color, and grace. Therefore he took more pains to im- 
 itate his fellow-student than his master, and succeeded 
 so well, that it was almost impossible to distinguish his 
 work from that of his friend. 
 
 Giorgio, who was very tall, strong, and handsome, 
 exercised great influence in the studio, and they gave 
 him the surname of Giorgione. It is well known that 
 the Italian language admits of augmentatives and di- 
 minutives. Giorgione signifies great George, George the 
 strong, as Giorgino would signify little George, George 
 the slender. Barbarelli has retained the surname given 
 him by his companions. 
 
 Giorgione, although a fellow-pupil of Titian, was his 
 

 PAINTEES. 123 
 
 only teacher for some years ; it was his style, and not 
 that of Bellini, which the celebrated Titian imitated. 
 They both remained in Bellini's studio, occupied in 
 painting church pictures. It must be acknowledged 
 that this kind of painting was not very pleasing to Titian , 
 who, at that time, did not understand how much poetry 
 there is in the scenes borrowed from Holy Writ. Bel- 
 lini was frequently obliged to repress the wanderings of 
 this ardent imagination of Titian, who felt more at his 
 ease when representing divinities of fable than monks 
 and martyrs. Giorgione was of the same opinion as 
 Titian, but the difficulty of getting employment else- 
 where obliged them to be patient. 
 
 One day, when Giorgione had gained a wager, our 
 two hair-brained youths, having some money in their 
 pockets, excused themselves from going to the studio, 
 and were absent until they had spent their last cent. 
 Then they began to think how they could appear before 
 Master Bellini, who, they knew, would not countenance 
 such pranks. 
 
 " Let us risk it," said Titian ; " we deserve a reprimand ; 
 we will submit, and that will be the end of it." 
 
 w I think you are mistaken in judging of Master Jean's 
 clemency," replied Giorgione ; " believe me, it is better 
 that we should not go back to him." 
 
 "Bah! we will acknowledge our fault, and he must 
 pardon us." 
 
 "Let us go, then," said Giorgione, whose resolute 
 character at length gave way. 
 
124 THE FRINGES OF ART. 
 
 It was in vain that the two apprentices knocked at 
 Jean Bellini's door ; it was never more to be opened to 
 them. Giorgione had not been deceived ; the master, 
 fearing the influence of their example in this conduct 
 upon the other pupils, had resolved not to receive them 
 again. 
 
 Giorgione and Titian were much embarrassed : they 
 were without work, and without money ; but, at their 
 age, one has so much confidence in the future that 
 courage soon revives. 
 
 " Work never fails those who seek it in earnest," said 
 Giorgione ; " and as we both have talent, we shall have 
 as much work as we can do, as soon as we shall be 
 known." 
 
 "Yes, but until then?" 
 
 " O, well ! until then we will paint portraits ; and if 
 we ask a reasonable price, we shall earn our living." 
 
 At first they earned very little ; and having moderate 
 desires, the two friends lived very happily. Painting, 
 at this time, was much in vogue in Italy, and especially 
 in Venice. Giorgione and Titian began by painting 
 portraits of friends, and soon became too well known to 
 be anxious for the morrow. But this did not satisfy 
 their ambition : they longed for fame and fortune. 
 
 One day, when Giorgione awoke, he said to his friend, 
 who shared his bed, 
 
 " I have thought of something which cannot fail to 
 give us honor and riches, and which only needs your 
 consent." 
 
PAINTERS. 125 
 
 "What is it? " said Titian, who had the most entire 
 confidence in his friend. 
 
 " It is simply the question of painting the facade of 
 our house in fresco." 
 
 "The facade of our house? " repeated Titian. 
 
 " Of the house we inhabit, if you mean that it does 
 not belong to us. Be quiet ; we shall do better than 
 that, and in a year or two there will not be a palace too 
 beautiful for us. How you look at me ! One would 
 think that you did not understand what I say." 
 
 "I declare that you would do me a favor by ex- 
 plaining." 
 
 " Child ! who cannot imagine that at the sight of our 
 beautiful frescoes, for they would be magnificent, 
 every person who passes will ask who did them, I will 
 answer for it." 
 
 "That is true, and we shall be known much sooner 
 than in limiting ourselves to painting portraits." 
 
 " Doubtless ; but that is not all. Seeing how our paint- 
 ings improve this house, which looks so homely and sad, 
 every noble Venetian, and every rich merchant, will take 
 a; fancy to embellish his with similar ornaments. And 
 to whom will they apply? To the two young painters, 
 of course, who first had the idea of decorating in this 
 manner." 
 
 " You are right," cried Titian ; " let us go quickly to 
 work." 
 
 All happened as Giorgione had foretold. Very soon 
 
126 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 his name and that of Titian were known throughout the 
 city, and they had much more work than they could do. 
 The brothers Bellini had long been the kings of painting 
 in Venice ; but without disputing their merit, there was 
 found in the pencils of the two young artists something 
 sweet, soft, and living, which gained for them the pref- 
 erence. 
 
 The Doge Loredano wished to have his portrait from 
 the hand of Giorgione ; and he was so much pleased 
 with it, that to recompense the artist, he engaged him to 
 paint the facade of an immense building, which served 
 as a warehouse for merchandise brought from Germany. 
 
 Everything being in common with the two friends, 
 Giorgione took two thirds of the work, and confided one 
 to Titian, and each chose the subject which best suited 
 him. The bold, proud, and learned composition of 
 Giorgione was much admired ; but that of Titian, sweet, 
 graceful, and charming, was received with universal 
 enthusiasm. Both were attributed to Giorgione, because 
 he had contracted for the work. Habituated as Gior- 
 gione was to consider himself more able than his com- 
 panion, he felt a certain displeasure at the sight of 
 Titian's works, whose beauty he could not deny, and 
 this displeasure soon became jealousy. 
 
 The friends of Giorgione, not knowing how the work 
 had been distributed between the two comrades, warmly 
 felicitated him, whom they supposed to be the author of 
 it : it was their opinion that not even the greatest masters 
 
PAINTERS. 127 
 
 could disavow the minutest details of these beautiful 
 frescoes ; but they signalized some of Titian's figures, 
 particularly that of Judith about to cut off the Head of 
 Holofernes, as pencillings of marvellous beauty. It 
 had been difficult for Giorgione to bear the idea of 
 Titian's being his equal ; what, then, could be his feelings 
 on seeing himself surpassed ? Jealousy stifled all friend- 
 ship for him whom he called his brother. With a heart 
 overflowing with bitterness, he shut himself in a room, 
 refusing admission to Titian. 
 
 It was in vain that the young man insisted upon 
 knowing the cause of such cruel treatment ; in vain he 
 supplicated Giorgione to receive him, assuring him that 
 some misunderstanding had caused his displeasure. Gior- 
 gione, who would not for the world have acknowleged 
 the sentiments which had taken possession of him, de- 
 clared that he would not listen to any justification which 
 he could make, and that he would have nothing more to 
 do with him. 
 
 Titian could not believe this, and tried to meet him 
 in his walks, or in some of the public places which they 
 had been accustomed to visit together ; he could not be 
 persuaded that the sweet ties which had united them, 
 and thanks to which they had so happily supported their 
 ill luck, were forever broken. Giorgione avoided seeing 
 him, and Titian, losing all hope of a reconciliation with 
 the friend of his youth, resolved to quit Venice, which 
 had become irksome to him, since he must enjoy the 
 
128 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 benefit of the reputation which his young and rare talent 
 began to create alone. He remained only long enough 
 to finish a picture destined for the church of the Frari. 
 His very large figures, full of life and strength, at first 
 little pleased the Venetian amateurs, accustomed to the 
 rather dry paintings of the Bellini; yet when, after the 
 first surprise, they rendered ample justice to this chef- 
 d'ceuvre, Titian was cited as the first painter in Venice, 
 and people were happy to obtain one of his paintings. 
 
 But Titian wished to travel : he left for Vicenza, 
 promising to return. In Vicenza he decorated the 
 audience hall of the Palace of Justice, choosing the 
 Judgment of Solomon for his subject. The sight of 
 this picture drew forth a cry of admiration from the 
 public, who wished to retain the artist in their city ; but 
 their entreaties were of no avail. 
 
 He went to Padua, where he painted the history of 
 St. Antonio, patron of that city, in three beautiful 
 frescoes, which have been carefully preserved by the 
 school of St. Antonio, of Padua, and copied by many 
 celebrated painters at different epochs. .The inhabitants 
 of Padua had never seen anything comparable with 
 these frescoes ; and they were so urgent to have more of 
 Titian's pictures, that he prolonged his stay in that hos- 
 pitable city until 1511. 
 
 Giorgione, who remained in Venice after the depart- 
 ure of Titian, painted, among other works, a Christ 
 bearing his Cross a magnificent picture. 
 
PAINTERS. 129 
 
 The reputation of Giorgione had suffered no dim- 
 inution. If the superiority of Titian was no longer 
 doubtful to a certain number of amateurs, the merit of 
 his old friend was not the less indisputable, and he con- 
 tinually received orders from all parts of the country. 
 But what did he care for wealth? What for glory? 
 He had lost that which made the charm of his life the 
 certainty of excelling every rival, and the friendship of 
 Titian. His good, humor, his unchangeable gayety, 
 abandoned him ; the world became odious to him, and he 
 confined himself to the most absolute solitude. This sud- 
 den change ruined his health, and after languishing for 
 some time, he died at the age of thirty-two years. 
 
 Sebastian del Piombo was his first pupil, if we except 
 his schoolmate and friend, Titian, whose master he real- 
 ly was. 
 
 Few painters have put so much strength and fire into 
 their pictures as Giorgione. The portraits by this art- 
 ist are living pictures ; his landscapes touched with ex- 
 quisite tact; his taste delicate, his complexions true, 
 and his chiaro-scuro irreproachable. The brothers Bel- 
 lini had cultivated painting, conscientiously, as they 
 found it ; but Giorgione added much to the dominion of 
 art, and created, as it were, the new school which Titian 
 was to make illustrious. 
 
 After the death of his unhappy friend, Titian returned 
 to Venice, and finished several works commenced by 
 Jean Bellini and by Giorgione. Among them was a 
 9 
 
130 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 large fresco destined to ornament the Council Hall, and 
 representing the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa at the 
 feet of Pope Alexander III. Instead of confining 
 himself to the original drawing, Titian changed the ar- 
 rangement, and introduced the portraits of the most cele- 
 brated personages of his time, from the army, the 
 magistracy, the church, and the arts, all in costumes 
 suitable to the age which the scene represented. 
 
 This fresco was properly appreciated, and Titian re- 
 ceived a title which was reserved for the best Venetian 
 painters. This title gave the right to a small pension 
 and the privilege of painting the portrait of each new 
 doge, in consideration, however, of paying eight crowns 
 per portrait. 
 
 The renown of Titian soon spread through all Italy, 
 and the Duke of Ferrara, Alphonso d'Este, whose 
 palace was open to all great artists, invited the Venetian 
 painter to honor it with his presence. Titian accepted 
 the invitation of the duke, and displayed all the richness 
 of his pencil in three subjects borrowed from mythology. 
 Two of these pictures represent Bacchus and his court, 
 and the third, an infinite number of little Loves, which 
 great painters are pleased to copy. Augustino Carracci 
 considered these two pictures the most beautiful in the 
 world, and Domenichino, who studied them with care, 
 wept bitterly when he saw them packed for Spain. 
 
 Titian made the acquaintance of Ariosto at Ferrara. 
 Friendship soon united these two men of genius, who 
 
PAINTERS. 131 
 
 immortalized each other, the painter by the portrait 
 of the poet, and the poet by consecrating his verses to 
 the painter. 
 
 After the three mythological scenes in which Titian 
 allowed his pencil to follow the flight of his fancy, he 
 returned to religious subjects. The encomiums passed 
 upon the mystic pictures of Albert Durer at the court 
 of Ferrara, inspired him with the idea of a magnificent 
 Christ, which he painted upon the door of a wardrobe, 
 with so much patience and love, that an enthusiastic ad- 
 miration saluted its appearance. 
 
 No sooner was Titian reestablished in Venice, in 1515, 
 than he received an invitation from Pope Leo X. to 
 visit Rome. Nothing could have been more agreeable 
 to him than to visit the country of the fine arts, and to 
 add something of his own composition to the immortal 
 chefs-d'oeuvre of Michael Angelo and Raphael ; but his 
 numerous friends retained him in Venice, and forced 
 him to thank the Pope for his kind intentions. 
 
 Titian made a great number of portraits. The doge, 
 the first captains, and all the lords of the republic, 
 sought the honor of having their portraits taken by this 
 able artist. He painted two Battle-pieces for the senate 
 of Venice, which were afterwards destroyed by fire, 
 an Assumption of the Holy Virgin, a St. Nicholas, 
 St. Francis, St. Catherine, and St. Sebastian. 
 
 The St. Sebastian was the object of a very singular 
 criticism. Vasari, author of the Lives of Italian paint- 
 
132 THE PKINCES OF AKT. 
 
 QTS, says, that " Titian was not much troubled about 
 representing this martyr ; that he made a real man of 
 him, and one could not help shuddering at sight of his 
 wounds." What greater praise than such a criticism ! 
 
 About this time Titian also painted Christ at Table 
 between St. Luke and Cleophas ; and this picture was 
 found so beautiful, that the gentleman who had ordered 
 it made it a present to the republic, saying that such a 
 treasure should not be hidden in a private gallery. 
 Afterwards appeared the Martyrdom of St. Peter, in 
 \vhich Titian displayed all the magical vigor of his pencil, 
 and which passed not only for the chef-d'oeuvre of this 
 illustrious master, but which, with the Transfiguration 
 by Raphael, and the Communion of St. Jerome by 
 Domenichino, is considered the most beautiful which 
 has been produced in painting. 
 
 Titian's glory increased faster than his fortune ; for 
 the magnificent pictures which at the present time are 
 almost covered with gold, were far from being well 
 paid. "He was living very modestly, when his friend 
 Aretino introduced him to the Cardinal Hyppolite di 
 Medici. 
 
 Charles V. having come to Bologna to be anointed, 
 the cardinal spoke to him of Titian. The emperor 
 immediately sent for him, and desired his portrait. 
 Titian painted the emperor on horseback, covered with 
 armor, and so majestic that Charles V. was enchanted, 
 and paid Titian one thousand crowns in gold for the 
 portrait, and assured him of his protection. 
 
PAINTERS. 133 
 
 The generous and illustrious persons who accom- 
 panied the emperor had their portraits taken also, and 
 recompensed him largely. Among them, those of 
 Antonio Leva and Don Alphonso d'Avolas are the 
 most celebrated. 
 
 Titian, enriched by the liberalities of Charles V. and 
 the nobles, returned to Venice, where he continued to 
 work until 1543, when he went to Ferrara, to paint the 
 portrait of Paul III. It would be impossible to speak 
 of all that he did at that time ; the mere mention of his 
 pictures would fill pages. 
 
 The Pope was so delighted with his portrait that he 
 tried to induce Titian to go to Rome with him, but he 
 had promised to accompany Urbino to the Duke Francis 
 of Rovera. Two years after, however, he complied with 
 the request of Cardinal Farnese, and accepted the royal 
 hospitality which he offered him at Rome. 
 
 Titian was received with all the honors due to his 
 talent. Paul III. placed the apartments of the Bel- 
 videre at his disposition, and treated him as if he were 
 a prince. The Venetian artist painted an Ecce Homo 
 with an admirable expression, and then a second 
 portrait. 
 
 It is said that Titian having placed this portrait of the 
 Pope upon a terrace to dry the varnish, the passers by, 
 thinking it was the Pope taking an airing upon the 
 terrace, made their obeisance to it. This mistake was 
 very flattering, both to the Pope and the artist. 
 
134 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Titian remained in Rome only one year, but he left 
 a beautiful Danae for the Duke Octavio Farnese, a 
 perfect chef-d'oeuvre in life and coloring. 
 
 Paul III. offered lucrative positions to Titian and his 
 son, if he would remain in the capital of the Christian 
 world ; but a permanent residence in Rome did not 
 please the illustrious artist : he returned to Venice, his 
 home, where he seemed to renew the vigor of youth. 
 He was welcomed by excellent friends, and lived happily, 
 passing his time in labor and pleasant conversation, 
 until Charles V., who had not forgotten his painter, 
 called him to his court at Innspruck, where wealth and 
 honor awaited him. It seemed as if the emperor could 
 not be happy without his favorite artist ; he wished that 
 Titian should accompany him in all his journeys, grant- 
 ed him admission to his apartments at all times without 
 being announced, created him count and knight, and 
 ennobled his family forever. 
 
 Titian was seventy-six years old when Charles Y. 
 wished him to paint his portrait for the third time. 
 Charles was arrayed in the insignia of imperial majesty ; 
 Titian stood by his easel, sketching the noble features, 
 veiled already with that shade of sombre melancholy 
 which afterwards inspired him with the singular resolu- 
 tion of burying himself alive in the monastery of St. Just. 
 The emperor and the painter were conversing together ; 
 suddenly the pencil slipped from the painter's ha'nd, and 
 fell to the floor. Before any one made a motion, Charles 
 
PAINTERS. 135 
 
 stooped, picked it up, and handed it to Titian, who, 
 stupefied and confounded, received it with tears in his 
 eyes, saying, 
 
 " Ah ! sire, you confound me ! " 
 
 " How then ! Is not Titian worthy to be served by 
 Oesar?" 
 
 This great emperor, who considered himself as above 
 all others, thought he never could show sufficient defer- 
 ence to his painter. In public, he placed him on his 
 right hand and showed him so much attention that the 
 princes of royal blood were jealous of him. They ven- 
 tured to make some observations on the subject to the 
 emperor, who replied, 
 
 " I know a great number of princes and kings, but I 
 believe that there are not two Titians in the whole 
 world." 
 
 At Innspruck, the Venetian artist painted the portrait 
 of Philip II. ; of Ferdinand, king of the Romans, of 
 Maria, his wife, and of their seven daughters, whom he 
 grouped together in a charming picture. He also 
 painted other illustrious personages ; but the work from 
 which he received the greatest honor was an Apotheosis 
 of Charles V. ; a composition in which the Trinity, es- 
 corted by a troop of Cherubims, of exquisite beauty, 
 receives the homage of the Virgin and the Saints. This 
 picture, inundated with light, makes him who contem- 
 plates it realize the eternal joys of the blessed. 
 
 After an absence of five years, Titian returned to 
 
136 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Venice, and was admitted to the Senate, to give an 
 account of his travels ; such an honor was only accorded 
 to ambassadors. The doge, surprised at the recital 
 which he made of his sojourn at the court of Charles Y. , 
 said, 
 
 " After all the honors that kings and emperors have 
 conferred upon you, Sir Titian, it will not be in our 
 power to recompense your talent worthily." 
 
 "May it please your grace," replied Titian, " there 
 is a recompense which it is in your power to grant me." 
 
 " Speak, Sir Painter, and what you ask shall be 
 granted." 
 
 "Permit me, then, your excellency, to finish the 
 Council Chamber at my own expense." 
 
 This proposition was received with due gratitude ; and 
 Titian, who found that, on account of his age, he should 
 not be able to accomplish the great work he had under- 
 taken, engaged the services of several painters of talent, 
 Tintoretto, Paul Veronese, and Horatio Vecelli, his 
 second son, who had embraced the same career as him- 
 self, and whose teacher he was. 
 
 Besides this work, Titian was constantly assailed with 
 orders from Charles V., to whom he was too much in- 
 debted not to strive to satisfy him. He therefore sent 
 him a $t. Sebastian, a Mater Dolorosa, painted upon 
 stone, and a large picture, representing Heligion pur- 
 sued by Heresy. For these pictures he received new 
 honors and new pensions. 
 
PAINTERS. 137 
 
 Charles V. died, and Philip II., who had already 
 chosen Titian for his painter, continued to attach a great 
 value to the works of this eminent artist. Among the 
 pictures painted for him were Diana and Actazon, 
 Andromeda and Perseus, Medea and Jason, the Mar- 
 tyrdom of St. Lorenzo, the Flagellation of Christ, 
 and a Magdalen. 
 
 It is said that Titian gave the Magdalen such an 
 expression, that the king said he had never seen any- 
 thing more striking; and, complimenting the painter, 
 he asked "why his Magdalen wept thus." The artist 
 answered, that she was begging, with tears in her eyes, 
 that his majesty would pay Titian the pension which 
 Charles V. had wished to leave him. Philip, severe as he 
 was, could not help laughing at the hint, and ordered the 
 Viceroy of Naples to pay the great painter without delay. 
 
 But the most important work, for the King of Spain, 
 was The Last Supper, an immense picture, which cost 
 Titian seven years' labor, and is regarded as a master- 
 piece in coloring. 
 
 Titian worked, with undiimnished power, to an ad- 
 vanced age. A Transfiguration, and an Annunciation 
 of the Virgin, and some others of inestimable value, 
 belong to the last years of his life. All the illustrious 
 visitors of Italy made it a duty to pay their respects to 
 the noble old man, whom they always found in his stu- 
 dio, in the midst of favorite pupils and fervent admirers. 
 
 Henry III., King of Poland, having made a voyage 
 
138 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 to Venice, before the death of Charles IX. called him 
 to the throne of France, paid a visit to Titian, in com- 
 pany with the Dukes of Ferrara and Mantua. He con- 
 versed with the great painter, admired, as a true artist, 
 the paintings which his studio contained, and the king 
 chose several, begging Titian to name the price of them ; 
 but the illustrious old man forced him to accept them, 
 as a testimony of his gratitude for the royal visit. 
 
 No artist ever enjoyed more honor and wealth than 
 Titian : however, he was not exempt from domestic 
 troubles. Pomponio, his eldest son, who had entered 
 the ecclesiastical state, conducted himself very badly; 
 and the scandal of his conduct nearly broke the heart of 
 Titian, who found no consolation, except in labor. 
 While in this state of feeling, he chose the Passion of 
 Christ, and the Martyrdom of Saints, in preference to 
 other subjects. 
 
 This great man arrived at the age of ninety-one years 
 without having given up his pencil. His youthful and 
 ardent spirit continued to inspire him ; his hand scarcely 
 trembled, but his eyes were somewhat weakened, which 
 caused him to think that his coloring was never strong 
 enough. He imagined that his old pictures had the 
 same fault, and resolved to rectify it ; and many of his 
 best works would have been lost to posterity, if his 
 pupils had not thought of a method to prevent it, with- 
 out afflicting the noble old man, whom they loved and 
 respected as a father. They mixed his colors with olive 
 
PAINTERS. 139 
 
 oil, which would not dry, so that they could at night 
 wipe off the colors which Titian had put on in the day. 
 
 It was hoped that he would live to be a hundred; 
 but he fell a victim to an epidemic which decimated 
 Venice in 1576. The news of his death cast a gloom 
 over the whole city ; for a moment every one forgot his 
 own troubles in the loss of this man of genius. 
 
 When the Senate heard of the death of Titian, they 
 made an exception to the ordinance requiring the de- 
 struction of the bodies of those who died with plague, 
 and immediately decreed that the remains of the great 
 artist should be carried into the church Dei Frari, with 
 all the pomp displayed at the funeral of the doges. 
 All Venice followed the hearse of Titian, appearing to 
 forget the raging contagion which threatened them. 
 
 Titian was one of the most admirable geniuses who 
 ever lived. All his works have a seal of grandeur and 
 poetry which astonishes and charms. "The beings 
 which he creates seem to have the high consciousness 
 and enjoyment of existence, the bliss of satisfaction, so 
 like, yet so different, from the marble idealizations of 
 Grecian antiquity. The air of an harmonious, unruffled 
 existence seems to characterize them all. Hence they 
 produce so grateful an impression on the mind of the 
 spectator, hence they impart so refined and exalted a 
 feeling, although generally but a transcript of familiar 
 and well-known objects, representations of beautiful 
 forms, without reference to spiritual or unearthly con- 
 
140 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 ceptions. It is life in its fullest power; the glorious 
 freedom of earthly existence ; the liberation of art from 
 the bonds of ecclesiastical dogmas. Italy, Germany, 
 England, and Spain possess a great number of his 
 paintings, and there are twenty-two in the Museum of 
 the Louvre, in Paris. Titian's church-pictures are as 
 fine as his portraits, his pen-drawings are excellent, and 
 his landscapes can be compared only to those of Salvator 
 Rosa and Poussin. No one could give more truth and 
 life to his works than Titian, who excelled other paint- 
 ers in chiaro-scuro . However, it is to be regretted that 
 he had not combined more correctness of drawing with 
 the magic of his coloring and the elevation of his 
 style." 
 
 Such was the opinion of Michael Angelo, an opin- 
 ion which posterity has confirmed. In a visit which he 
 paid Titian, introduced by Vasari, Buonarotti, 
 severe, but just, could not repress the expressions of 
 admiration at the works of the Venetian. However, a 
 slight frown showed Vasari that he did not express all 
 his thoughts ; and when they left the studio, he pressed 
 him for an explanation. 
 
 " I never saw anything more perfect than those pic- 
 tures, in regard to composition and color," he said ; 
 " and if Titian had only learned drawing in his youth, 
 he would have been the greatest painter in the world." 
 
 The moral qualities of Titian were not inferior to his 
 talents. He loved simplicity and work so much, that 
 
PAINTERS. 141 
 
 he remained as little as possible at the courts of kings, 
 and was never willing to be long absent from his native 
 country. He loved to visit the places in which he 
 passed his childhood, the old castle where he was 
 born, and the village school where he learned to read. 
 The days he spent in them were his festive days. How 
 sweet and dear are the remembrances which recall the 
 caresses of a mother or the innocent pleasures of youth ! 
 
 Some historians accuse Titian of avarice ; but there is 
 nothing to justify such an accusation. His house was 
 kept royally ; all his servants boasted of his generosity. 
 When he received princes, or royal strangers, he treated 
 them with great magnificence : for example, one day 
 two Spanish cardinals came unexpectedly to dine with 
 him. Titian received them with his accustomed cor- 
 diality, and invited them into his studio. While they 
 were expatiating on the beauty of his works, he went to 
 a window, and, throwing a purse filled with gold to a 
 domestic, he said, "I have company to dine." 
 
 The dinner was served in princely style. 
 
 He received enormous sums of money, and left his 
 children in easy circumstances ; but, if he had been 
 avaricious, his fortune would have been immense. Ho- 
 ratio Vecelli died of the pest a few weeks after Titian ; 
 and the inheritance of the illustrious painter passed into 
 the hands of his unworthy son, Pomponio, who dissi- 
 pated the whole of it in a few years, and died in indi- 
 gence. 
 
 ^ 
 
142 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Titian, like Michael Angelo, had illustrious friends. 
 Versed in science and letters, he often gave Ariosto 
 good advice, which was received with gratitude. He 
 was also connected with Aretino, who was then called 
 the divine poet, or the scourge of kings, a man of 
 rare talent, but of perverse mind, and licentious man- 
 ners. 
 
 Titian never yielded to the pernicious influence of 
 Aretino's conversation, and during his long life had the 
 happiness of being guided by the principles of honor and 
 virtue. 
 
 KAPHAEL SANZIO. 
 
 Raphael Sanzio was born on Good Friday, March 
 28, 1483, at Urbino, a small town situated between 
 Perouse and Pesaro, in the States of the Church. His 
 father, Giovanni Sanzio, an ordinary painter, destined 
 him for the career which he had himself embraced, and 
 was his first instructor. But God had put a ray of the 
 sacred fire which we call genius into the soul of this 
 child, and Giovanni, surprised at his astonishing prog- 
 ress, immediately recognized that it was not in his 
 power to teach him. 
 
 A Madonna, in fresco, which Raphael painted upon 
 the wall of his maternal house, set Jean Sanzio to 
 thinking. 
 
 "This child," said he, "will never be a poor artist, 
 
PAINTERS. 143 
 
 like myself: if he receives some good instruction, he 
 will not fail to do me honor." 
 
 Jean reasoned wisely, and did better still in taking 
 his son to Perouse, where Pietro Vanucci, better known 
 as Perugino, was flourishing. Sanzio's address pre- 
 possessed the master in his favor ; he was a charming 
 child, sweet, amiable, and frank, with a thoughtful 
 and spiritual face, and very gentle manners. 
 
 "What can you do?" asked Perugino. 
 
 "Almost nothing, Master Perugino," answered Raph- 
 ael, timidly ; " but if you will teach me, I shall soon 
 be able to give a different answer, for you are a good 
 painter, and I shall be a docile pupil." 
 
 This answer pleased Perugino ; he put a pencil into 
 Raphael's hand, who immediately sketched the Madonna, 
 which he had painted some days before from recollec- 
 tion. The master, astonished by the boldness and cor- 
 rectness of this sketch, said to Jean Sanzio, "You can 
 leave your boy here ; and it is for me to thank you." 
 
 The father and son separated, a little sad at their 
 first parting, but delighted with the success of their 
 undertaking; for Perugino was very difficult in the 
 choice of pupils. This master well merited his reputa- 
 tion. Painting had made some progress under Giotto ; 
 but it was reserved for Perugino to create those beautiful 
 types of the Virgin, noble heads of old men, and those 
 lovely figures of angels, which were to make the glory 
 of the Roman school, and to become the ideal of beauty, 
 under the magic pencil of Raphael. 
 
144 THE PKINCES OF AET. 
 
 The young Sanzio felt all that was sweet and poetic 
 in the manner of his new master, and promptly assimi- 
 lated himself to it. Never was a more beautiful genius 
 developed by more assiduous labor. Raphael had 
 promised to be a docile pupil : he kept his word. His 
 attention in listening to his master's advice, and putting 
 it in practice, his aptness, and his charming character, 
 soon made him more dear to Perugino than all his other 
 pupils. 
 
 For two years he worked under the direction of his 
 master; then he undertook the unimportant parts of 
 Perugino's pictures, and acquitted himself so well, that 
 able connoisseurs found it difficult to distinguish be- 
 tween the work of the master and that of the pupil. 
 Perugino knew that Raphael would not be satisfied to 
 equal, he would surpass him ; but he loved him too 
 much to allow jealous fear to disturb him. 
 
 Sanzio was seventeen years old when he painted his 
 first picture. Taking advantage of the absence of Peru- 
 gino, who was in Florence, he went to Citta di Castello 
 for a vacation. No sooner had the people of the town 
 heard that he was a pupil of the great master of Pe- 
 rouse, than they came to beg him to paint a picture of 
 St. Nicholas for their church. This was an excellent 
 opportunity for the young artist to try his skill ; and he 
 did not refuse. It was a perfect success, entirely in 
 Perugino's style ; it was found worthy to figure among 
 his best works. Afterwards Raphael was desired to 
 
PAINTERS. 145 
 
 paint a Christ on the Cross, then a Holy Family; and 
 in proportion as he grew bolder, and followed Perugino 
 less, his pictures assumed a greater charm. 
 
 The following year he painted the Marriage of the 
 Virgin, otherwise called the Sposalizio, a picture 
 which was said to be only a copy of the same subject by 
 Perugino, but in which the genius which was to make 
 Raphael the king of painters shone forth. 
 
 About this time Pinturicchio, fellow-pupil of Raph- 
 ael, but much older, was called to Vienna, to deco- 
 rate the library of the cathedral : finding this too great a 
 task for him, he proposed to Raphael to take part. The 
 young man accepted ; and Pinturicchio, acknowledging 
 his superiority, begged him to take charge of the car- 
 toons for the frescoes ; this he also did very willingly, 
 regarding Pinturicchio as his superior. These two 
 painters created quite a sensation ; and all amateurs 
 agreed in saying that it was the most beautiful work 
 ever done. 
 
 Despite his modesty, Raphael began to understand 
 that he was making very slight progress under the direc- 
 tion of Perugino, and that the study of the works of 
 other renowned artists would be useful to him ; he there- 
 fore refused to accept some advantageous offers which 
 were made to him, and went to Florence. Leonardo 
 da Vinci and Michael Angelo were about finishing their 
 cartoons for the frescoes of the Council Chamber ; and 
 these magnificent cartoons, as we have already stated, 
 10 
 
146 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 were on exhibition for the instruction of young artists, 
 until Florence, freed from the troubles which oppressed 
 her, should demand the execution of the paintings, of 
 which these sketches had excited so much admiration. 
 
 Raphael was astonished by the rapid stride in the way 
 of progress made by Leonardo da Vinci ; but the style 
 of Michael Angelo, which, youthful and full of fire, left 
 far behind him all that had been seen up to that time, 
 pleased less than it astonished him. 
 
 Obliged to go to Urbin, he made only a short stay in 
 Florence. At the end of a year he returned, with a 
 letter of recommendation to the gonfaloniere from the 
 Duchess d'Urbin. Through this recommendation he 
 was graciously received by the chief magistrates of Flor- 
 ence, and an occasion to display his talent soon offered 
 itself. Two portraits, a Holy Family, and some other 
 pictures, soon placed him in the first rank of. artists of 
 the city, among whom was Fra Bartolomeo della Porta. 
 
 Rajphael and this painter, already celebrated, soon 
 became firm friends, and the two profited by the con- 
 nection. The manner of Perugino a manner which 
 Raphael had followed was correct, but rather dry ; 
 Bartolomeo's contours were somewhat fuller, softer, his 
 coloring richer and more truthful, but his types were 
 not so pure, and he was ignorant of the art of perspec- 
 tive. The two friends improved each other's deficien- 
 cies ; and this exchange of good advice formed an 
 imperishable bond between them. 
 
PAINTERS. 147 
 
 It is thought that Raphael formed the acquaintance 
 of Francia in Florence ; and it is delightful to see this 
 rare genius arrive at the apogee of glory without for- 
 getting the respect due to Perugino, his master, nor the 
 friendship which he had made, while young, with fellow- 
 artists. 
 
 In the pictures which he painted at Florence, Raphael 
 endeavored to correct the faults which we mentioned, 
 and to raise himself to the highest point of progress 
 which art had made, and at the same time to remain 
 faithful to the instructions of Perugino. This is what 
 is called the first manner of Raphael. 
 
 While at Florence, he thought of undertaking some 
 great work, which could place him at the side of Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo, and the protectors 
 which the Duchess d'Urbin had given him were disposed 
 to furnish him with necessary means, when a great 
 calamity came upon him : he was sent for to take the 
 last farewell of a dying father. 
 
 He hastened to Urbin, hoping still to preserve the 
 object of his tenderness, but he arrived only in time to 
 see him draw his last breath. The dream of glory 
 which Raphael had cherished lost half its prestige, for 
 henceforth alone in the world, he would have neither 
 father nor mother to be proud of his success. To arouse 
 him from the depression caused by this terrible blow, 
 the Duke d'Urbin urged him to paint some pictures ; 
 and, with his soul filled with grief, Raphael painted a 
 
148 THE PKINCES OF ART 
 
 Christ on the Mount of Olives, a Christ the type 
 of sadness and resignation. Two Virgins followed, 
 then a St. George, and a St. Michael, now in the 
 Museum of the Louvre. 
 
 His friends advised him to travel, in order to dissi- 
 pate the melancholy, which was only increased by dwell- 
 ing in his native village. He went to Perugia, hoping 
 to find some of the young people with whom he had 
 studied ; but Perugino was at Rome, and his pupils had 
 dispersed. However, it was pleasant for Sanzio to be 
 again in Perouse ; and he complied with the earnest 
 wishes of friends in leaving some traces of his passage 
 there. Two or three pictures, and a fresco representing 
 Christ in his glory, surrounded by angels and saints, 
 increased his reputation very much, and on his return to 
 Florence he received numerous orders. 
 
 The Virgin, known as La Belle Jardiniere, still 
 to be seen in the Museum of the Louvre, is considered 
 as one of the best of Raphael's first method. He left 
 the care of finishing the drapery of the Assumption 
 which he had commenced, and which was wanted imme- 
 diately, to Ghirlandaio, one of his friends. While he 
 was at work upon it, a letter from his uncle Bramante, 
 architect of Julius II., called him to Rome. 
 
 The Pope had had palaces and temples built, and he 
 wished to have them decorated. Bramante, having 
 heard of the talent of the young Sanzio, seized this 
 opportunity of making his fortune. Raphael joyfully 
 
PAINTERS. 149 
 
 accepted the invitation ; and as soon as Bramante found 
 that fame had not exaggerated the talent of his relation, 
 he presented him to the Pope. 
 
 Julius was charmed with the sweetness, modesty, and 
 good manners of the young artist, and allowed him to make 
 trial of his pencil upon one of the halls of the Vatican. 
 Raphael was transported with this unexpected good for- 
 tune, and set himself to work with a certainty of success. 
 His first painting at Rome was the homage of gratitude 
 to his master, Perugino : he chose for his subject the 
 School of Athens, and painted the portrait of him, whom 
 he regarded as his second father, as one of the Greek 
 philosophers, whose pupils, among whom was Raphael 
 himself, were listening attentively to his instruction. 
 
 Julius was so much charmed by the sight of this 
 beautiful fresco, that, carried away by his impetuosity, 
 he declared that there was nothing beautiful in his pal- 
 ace, and ordered all the frescoes which decorated it to 
 be scraped off. Among these paintings were many of 
 Perugino's ; and Raphael, feeling the sadness which 
 such treatment would . cause his oM master, obtained 
 permission to have the hall of Charlemagne spared, be- 
 cause it was there that Perugino had labored the most. 
 
 Raphael continued his work, happy in meriting the 
 approbation of the Pope. He painted four frescoes for 
 La Camera della Segnatura; the subjects comprehended 
 Theology, Poetry, Philosophy, and Jurisprudence ; i. e., 
 the representation of those high pursuits which belong 
 
150 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 to the more elevated tendencies of human nature. The 
 School of Athens represented Philosophy ; and the 
 young artist had given so true an expression to each of 
 the philosophers, that it was easy for those who knew 
 the doctrine of these sages to give a name to each. 
 
 " Theology (erroneously called La Dispute* del Sac- 
 ramento) is divided into two parts : the upper half 
 represents the glory of heaven, in the solemn manner of 
 the early painters. In the centre is the Savior, with 
 outstretched arms, throned on the clouds ; on his right, 
 the Virgin, sweet and affectionate in expression and 
 mien, bows before her divine Son in heartfelt adoration ; 
 on the left, St. John the Baptist. Over the Savior ap- 
 pears a half figure of the Almighty, and below him hovers 
 the Dove of the Holy Spirit. Around this group, in a 
 half circle, sit the patriarchs, apostles, and saints 
 sublime, dignified figures, with the noblest solemnity 
 and repose in their appearance. Over them hover en 
 each side three angel youths ; below these, as if support- 
 ing the clouds, are a multitude of angel heads, and four 
 boy-angels hold the books of the Evangelists beside the 
 Dove. In the lower half of the picture we see an 
 assembly of the most celebrated theologians of the 
 Church. All these figures, especially as regards the 
 expression of the heads, are completed with most strik- 
 ing and characteristic individuality, and are enlivened 
 by a conscientious study of detail." These pictures 
 caused Raphael to be considered the first painter of his 
 time. 
 
PAINTERS. 151 
 
 While Sanzio was creating these sublime works, Bra- 
 mante, who for a long time had been jealous of the 
 affection of Julius II. for Michael Angelo, persuaded the 
 pontiff to desire his sculptor to paint frescoes rather than 
 make statues ; he thought that his nephew would cer- 
 tainly carry off the palm, and humiliate the severe 
 Buonarotti. But nothing was impossible to the genius 
 of Michael Angelo, as we have already seen; and the 
 paintings of the vaulted ceiling of the Sistine Chapel 
 placed him in the same rank as Eaphael, although of a 
 different style. However, Raphael had nothing to do 
 with this wish of the Pope, which caused so much disap- 
 pointment and trouble to the sculptor. The young man, 
 contented with his lot, which certainly was a very happy 
 one, never thought of disputing the favor of the Pope 
 with Michael Angelo ; and it is much to be regretted 
 that the intrigues of ordinary men made rivals, if not 
 enemies, of these two immortal geniuses. 
 
 Young men from all parts of the country came to 
 Raphael, desirous to study under his direction ; and he 
 was much beloved by his pupils, whose growing talents 
 contributed not a little to his glory, by enabling him to 
 undertake a much larger number of works than his own 
 strength would have permitted him to accomplish. It 
 seems as if this incomparable painter, having a presen- 
 timent of his premature death, wished to hasten the 
 completion of labors which were to transmit his name to 
 posterity. 
 
152 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Augustino Chizi, a rich merchant of Sienna, having 
 built a palace on the borders of the Tiber, Sanzio under- 
 took to decorate it, and painted such marvellous heads 
 of prophets and sybils that all Rome wished to admire 
 them. Two pictures, a Galatea and a Psyche, appeared 
 almost at the same time ; which, however, did not pre- 
 vent the rapid advancement of the decoration of the halls 
 of the Vatican : the Miracola di Bolsena, the Deliver- 
 ance of St. Peter, and the Punishment of Heliodorus, 
 display the genius of Raphael in all its brilliancy. 
 
 The death of Julius II. deprived our artist of an 
 enlightened and benevolent protector ; but Leo X. , who 
 succeeded this pontiff, ordered Raphael to continue his 
 works upon the Vatican. No less zealous for the arts 
 than his predecessor, he feared this young artist might 
 go elsewhere to paint. Raphael showed himself worthy 
 of the distinction. His picture of Attila marching 
 upon Rome, and that in which St. Leon stops the con- 
 queror at the foot of Mount Valerio, were not inferior 
 to his preceding pictures. 
 
 At Bramante's death, Leo X. chose Raphael for his 
 architect, and the court of the Vatican was continued 
 upon the model given by this artist, who wished to orna- 
 ment its porticoes in the antique manner found in the 
 Baths of Titus, and studied by him with extreme care. 
 Raphael made the designs of these porticoes to the 
 Loggie, with the assistance of Jean d'Udine, one of his 
 best pupils. The Loggie are open galleries built round 
 
PAINTERS. 153 
 
 three sides of the court of St. Damascus (the older por- 
 tion of the Vatican palace). They consist of three 
 stories, the two lower formed of vaulted arcades, the 
 upper by an elegant colonnade. The first arcade of the 
 middle story was decorated with paintings and stuccoes 
 under Raphael's direction ; it leads to the Stanze, so 
 that one master's work here succeeds to another. It 
 was Jean d'Udine who painted the instruments of a 
 magnificent St. Cecilia, destined for the chapel of St. 
 Giovanni in Monte, at Bologna. 
 
 The case which contained this picture was addressed 
 to Francia, the old friend of Raphael, with a request 
 that he would attend to the unpacking, and repair what- 
 ever injury the voyage should have caused to the picture. 
 Francia felt very much flattered by the trust committed 
 to him ; but the /St. Cecilia had no need of his pencil. 
 
 Vasari, in his History of Painters, mentions the 
 sending of this picture to Francia, and adds, that this 
 artist was enchanted to see a work of Raphael, of whom 
 he had heard so much praise since they left the studio 
 of Perugino. The arrival of the picture was announced 
 to him by a very affectionate letter from his friend 
 Sanzio, and accompanied by a design of the Nativity, 
 from the hand of Raphael. "But," added Vasari, 
 * Francia was stupefied at the sight of this admirable /St. 
 Cecilia, and, feeling that he was deceived in considering 
 himself a master, became* melancholy, and soon died. 
 
 There is reason to believe that Vasari was mistaken 
 
154 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 on this point ; for, according to other writers of the time, 
 Francia lived nineteen years after seeing Raphael's 
 work, and he was then tolerably advanced. We prefer 
 this version to the other, for Francia's soul was too 
 loyal and generous to be accessible to envy. 
 
 The reputation of Raphael had become European. 
 The celebrated German painter, Albert Durer, sent him 
 his portrait, painted in water colors. Raphael returned 
 the compliment by begging Albert Durer to accept some 
 drawings, so highly finished that they could be con- 
 sidered real pictures. As to sending his own portrait, 
 he had no time to paint it, as he had told Francia, when 
 he received a present of his portrait. 
 
 Albert Durer was not only a painter of great talent, 
 but he was likewise a very skilful engraver. When 
 Raphael understood the method by which this master 
 transmitted his works to posterity, he encouraged Marc 
 Antonio Raimondi to study this improved engraving ; 
 and the young man succeeding beyond his hopes, he 
 employed him to engrave a great number of designs, 
 which were soon scattered through Germany, France, 
 and Holland, and were everywhere admired. 
 
 Having finished the second hall of the Vatican, 
 Raphael gave the drawings for the third haH to his pu- 
 pils, and contented himself with overseeing and correct- 
 ing their work. The subjects of these frescoes are the 
 Victory of St. Leon over the Saracens, the Justification 
 of Pope Leo III., and the Coronation of Charlemagne. 
 
PAINTERS. 155 
 
 Julio Romano, Francesco Penni, Jean d'Udine, Poli- 
 dore da Caravaggio, and many other young artists, dis- 
 tinguished themselves in this work. 
 
 The fourth hall was also commenced, and Raphael, 
 in the fresco which represents the naval battle in the 
 port of Ostia, gained over the Saracens, and in which 
 the burning of Borgo Vecchio is stopped by the benedic- 
 tion of Pope Leo IV., exceeded his previous works. 
 
 By the boldness of expression which Raphael gave to 
 this picture, he made it terrific ; his sweet and graceful 
 manner was so much changed, that Michael Angelo, 
 seeing it, cried out, 
 
 " He has seen my paintings ! " 
 
 And so he had, for in spite of the precautions which 
 Buonarotti had taken (when forced by Leo X. to finish 
 the decoration of the Sistine chapel) that no one should 
 see his work before it was finished, the architect Bra- 
 mante introduced Raphael secretly, in Michael Angelo's 
 absence, so that he had leisure to study the energetic 
 and sublime paintings of this old sculptor. 
 
 However it might be, Raphael's triumph was com- 
 plete ; and Leo X., not knowing how he could recom- 
 pense such a genius, offered him a cardinal's hat, and at 
 the same time Cardinal di St. Bibiane offered him the hand 
 of his niece, one of the richest and handsomest women 
 of Rome. Raphael, not knowing which of the offers to 
 accept, refused neither, and asked time to decide. 
 
 It is certain that with the creation of some new piece 
 
156 THE PRINCES OF AKT. 
 
 almost daily, the illustrious artist had no time to deter- 
 mine promptly upon so weighty a matter. He received 
 orders from all quarters ; princes and kings demanded 
 his pictures, or even less than that, a drawing only, if 
 he could not send pictures. 
 
 The Pope had appointed him architect, then director- 
 in-chief of antiquities, and these two places increased 
 his labors. He not only directed the excavations in 
 Rome, but, knowing that the Roman art was derived 
 from the Greek, he sent artists into Southern Italy and 
 Greece, to collect and send to him all the designs, or 
 precious fragments, they could find. He had to corre- 
 spond with all these young people, to classify all that he 
 received from them ; and if we think of the decoration 
 of the Vatican halls, and the court of the Loggie, with 
 which he was busily occupied, and besides that he must 
 now and then paint a picture for a church, a convent, 
 or a palace, we find it difficult to understand how he 
 could have done it all, notwithstanding the cooperation 
 of zealous and devoted pupils. 
 
 These pupils were numerous ; and when Raphael went 
 with them to the Vatican or the Loggie, many of his 
 admirers joined them, making a very imposing train of 
 attendants. One day, Michael Angelo, who always 
 went alone, seeing Raphael surrounded by this brilliant 
 suite, murmured with some bitterness, 
 
 " Accompanied like a king ! " 
 
 "Alone, like a hangman ! " replied Raphael. 
 
PAINTERS. 157 
 
 This meeting furnished the subject for a large picture, 
 by one of the best French artists, M. H. Vernet : it is 
 in the Luxembourg Museum. 
 
 The nuns of St. Marie di Palermo begged Raphael to 
 paint a Christ bearing his Cross, for their convent ; 
 and he produced a Man-God, whose sufferings, resigna- 
 tion, and charity were expressed with so much truth, 
 that those who saw it cried out, " It is a miracle ! " 
 The enthusiasm was so great, that Raphael hastened to 
 pack it, fearing it would not be sent to its destination. 
 
 The vessel which carried this chef-d'oeuvre was beaten 
 by a tempest, and cast upon the rocks, where it broke. 
 The crew all perished ; the merchandise was lost, ex- 
 cepting one case, which the waves carried to the coast 
 of Genoa. Some fishermen, seeing it, put a boat to sea, 
 and took the case into port, where it was opened. 
 There they found Raphael's picture intact : the winds 
 and waves had respected it ! 
 
 The Genoese, thinking they could retain this strayed 
 picture, were much delighted ; but the good nuns of 
 Palermo, uneasy at not having their picture, finally 
 learned that, by a marvellous chance, it had arrived safe 
 and sound at Genoa. They immediately claimed it, 
 and were refused ; they then complained to the Pope, 
 who had some difficulty in causing it to be restored to 
 the right owners. 
 
 It was a day of great rejoicing for the convent of 
 Notre Dame when the Christ bearing his Cross was 
 
158 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 placed in their church ; nothing as beautiful had ever 
 been seen in Palermo, and the monastery was visited 
 by all the artists and amateurs of Sicily. 
 
 This picture, della Spasimo, as they called it, was 
 ranked among the things which every stranger passing 
 through Palermo was expected to see. The good sis- 
 ters were very proud of it, but they soon found that ob- 
 scurity is the surest guardian to happiness. 
 
 Philip IV., travelling through Sicily, saw their treas- 
 ure, and, though a king, was jealous of it. As a king 
 has many means of gratifying his covetousness, one day, 
 or rather one night, Lo Spasimo was carried from the 
 chapel and taken to Spain. What surprise and grief 
 the next morning ! The nuns complained bitterly of the 
 theft, and again had recourse to the Pope ; but Philip, 
 rejoicing in his trick, had no idea of giving up his prize. 
 However, he acknowledged that the convent was right in 
 complaining, and resolved to indemnify it for the loss. 
 He offered an annuity of a thousand piastres, which 
 was accepted, and thus the picture became his legitimate 
 property. 
 
 This picture was sent to Paris by Napoleon's generals, 
 during the war with Spain, and remained there six 
 years ; but in 1816 it was given back, and placed in the 
 royal gallery of Madrid, of which it is still the finest 
 ornament. 
 
 Raphael painted the victories of Constantine, in the 
 great hall of the Vatican. This was his first attempt 
 
PAINTERS. 159 
 
 in the grandiose manner, which is called his third style. 
 In this he succeeded equally as well as in the other two 
 styles, and it would be impossible to describe the en- 
 thusiasm which these paintings excited. 
 
 Pope Leo X. desired Eaphael to draw designs for the 
 tapestries which he intended to have made in Flanders, 
 for the Sistine chapel. Sanzio drew and colored mag- 
 nificent cartoons, which he delivered to two of his best 
 pupils, Van Orlay of Brussels, and Coxis of Malines, 
 giving them orders to superintend these rich tapestries.' 
 These cartoons are now to be seen in the palace of 
 Hampton Court, in England. 
 
 After this, Sanzio painted his famous picture of the 
 Transfiguration of Christ. The picture is regarded 
 as the best of all his masterpieces. One can never 
 weary of admiring its beautiful figures ; those heads, of 
 such varied expression, of style so noble and elevated, 
 as if enlightened by a ray of divine glory : but the head 
 of Christ exceeds all that art has produced in majesty 
 and beauty. 
 
 This most sublime creation of Raphael was his last. 
 The Transfiguration was unfinished when he died. 
 
 According to an old document, found in Rome, 
 the cause of his premature death was as follows : 
 One day, when Raphael, who was indisposed, was 
 working in the palace Farnese, he received an order to 
 go to the Pope. Fearing that his holiness might be 
 waiting for him, he ran as quickly as possible, and ar- 
 
160 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 rived at the Vatican covered with perspiration, and out 
 of breath. He remained for some time, discussing the 
 plan of St. Peter's, which then preoccupied Leo X. 
 He became chilly, perspiration was checked, and he re- 
 turned home, seized with a violent fever, which con- 
 ducted him to the tomb in a few days. 
 
 Raphael was very delicate ; one might say that he 
 was all spirit and genius, and it is difficult to under- 
 stand how, working as much as he did, he could attain 
 the age of thirty-seven years. Too great a love of 
 pleasure also contributed to hasten his end, which he 
 saw approaching, if not without regret, at least without 
 a murmur. He told his pupils that he had but a few 
 moments to pass with them ; he consoled them in their 
 profound affection, addressed words of encouragement 
 to each of them, predicted their success, took leave of 
 them, and asked the succor of religion. His calmness 
 never left him, and those who saw him so smiling could 
 not believe that he was so soon to finish his brilliant 
 career. Finally, on the 7th of April, on Holy Friday 
 of 1520, he gave up his soul to Him who had so richly 
 endowed it. 
 
 The Pope, being informed that his beloved painter 
 was no more, fell into profound dejection, from which 
 he rallied only by shedding abundant tears : he declared 
 that he had lost the most beautiful jewel of his tiara. 
 All Rome was in mourning ; every one wept as if he 
 had lost a relation, or a friend. Raphael was laid out 
 
PAINTERS. 161 
 
 in his studio, and the wonderful picture of the Trans- 
 figuration was placed at his head. The number of 
 visitors, which was immense, could not restrain the testi- 
 mony of their admiration of the picture, or their tears at 
 the sight of the beautiful young man, sleeping in death, 
 who, if God had permitted him to attain the ordinary 
 limits of human life, would have done so much for art. 
 
 Leo X. ordered that the body of the artist should be 
 deposited in the Pantheon, as he had desired, and Car- 
 dinal Bembo was charged with writing his epitaph. 
 
 According to Raphael's will, his fortune, which was 
 great, was divided between Francesco Penni, surnamed 
 il Frattore, because he had had the direction of all the 
 affairs of the great artist, and Giulio Pippi, better 
 known as Julio Eomano, one who was dearest to his 
 heart. Both were Raphael's pupils, and had the charge 
 of finishing the works which he left incomplete ; they 
 acquitted themselves of the duty with religious respect. 
 
 One of the clauses of this will appropriated a con- 
 siderable sum to the restoration of one of the chapels of 
 the church of Santa Maria della Rotunda ; and one of 
 the houses which Raphael owned in Rome bears an in- 
 scription, stating that this real estate guarantees the 
 payment of the annual rent due to this chapel. 
 
 For a long time the academicians of St. Luke thought 
 
 they possessed the cranium of Raphael, but Doctor 
 
 Gall, to whom the cranium was submitted when in 
 
 Rome, declared that it was impossible that it should 
 
 11 
 
162 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 have belonged to a man of genius. Differences having 
 arisen between the Academy of St. Luke and another 
 learned society, which claimed this head as that of its 
 founder, the Pope ordered that the mortal remains of 
 the illustrious painter should be exhumed. 
 
 Then it was seen that the skeleton of Eaphael had not 
 been mutilated. His precious bones were exposed some 
 days to public view, then put into a marble case pre- 
 sented by the Pope, and, with great pomp and ceremony, 
 placed where, according to his wish, he had been at first 
 interred ; that is to say, in that same chapel of Santa 
 Maria della Rotunda, called the chapel della Madonna 
 del $asso, which the great painter had ornamented with 
 magnificent works. Never was an artist more esteemed, 
 or more generally beloved, than Raphael, nor was there 
 ever a person more deserving of admiration and love. 
 He remained simple in the midst of grandeur, modest at 
 the height of glory, faithful to gratitude and friendship. 
 By his rare qualities he enhanced the brilliancy of his 
 incomparable genius. 
 
 CORREGGIO. 
 
 Antonio Allegri owed his surname of Correggio to 
 the village of Correggio, where he was born in 1494, 
 of an honest, but poor family. He passed his infancy 
 and youth in obscurity, but he had received of God that 
 
PAINTEKS. 163 
 
 creative genius which, without a teacher, without models, 
 with no borrowed assistance, knows how to produce ad- 
 mirable works . Correggio found within himself the talent 
 which he developed by labor and the study of nature. 
 
 Which his first works are, is not known, but all the 
 compositions which he has left are masterpieces. He 
 consecrated the fruit of his first productions to the sus- 
 tenance of his parents : when married, and the father of 
 a numerous family, he redoubled his ardor, that no one 
 under his humble roof should suffer for the necessaries 
 of life. Gentle, modest, and excessively timid, Antonio 
 never thought a picture sufficiently well finished, and 
 was satisfied with whatever recompense he received for 
 his work. Without doubt he had heard of those happy 
 painters, whose pictures were covered with gold by ama- 
 teurs, and whom princes loaded with presents and honors. 
 To think of such success for himself was out of the 
 question : he wished but for one thing, to be able to make 
 his wife and children comfortable. Yet he was conscious 
 of his own merit, for one day, after having admired a 
 picture of Eaphael's, he cried out, on comparing it with 
 his own work, 
 
 " I, also, am a painter I " 
 
 Correggio's principal works are at Parma. He paint- 
 ed some magnificent frescoes in the grand tribune of the 
 cathedral of that city, for which he received in payment 
 a few sacks of corn, some wood, and a little money. 
 Afterwards he painted the cupola of St. John, and that 
 
164 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 of the dome of the cathedral. The Ascension of Jesus 
 Christ, and the Assumption of the Virgin, represented 
 there, are two admirable compositions, in which, besides 
 the majesty and grace which characterize all his works, 
 he had displayed a wonderful knowledge of foreshorten- 
 ing, inasmuch as he never had any instruction, and had 
 never studied the chefs-d'oeuvre of Rome and Venice. 
 
 Having deducted from his modest salary the sum 
 rigorously necessary for the subsistence of his family, 
 Correggio used the remainder in the purchase of the 
 canvas and colors which he needed for new pictures, and 
 continued his work with exemplary courage. His wife 
 sustained him in the hope of better days ; she recognized 
 and admired the genius which was unappreciated until 
 after his death. 
 
 In this way Antonio painted many pictures, the most 
 celebrated of which are, the Nativity of our Savior, 
 St. Jerome, the Magdalen, a Holy Family, the Mar- 
 riage of $t. Catherine, now in the Museum of the 
 Louvre ; a Christ on the Mount of Olives, which the 
 unfortunate artist was obliged to give up for a debt of 
 four crowns ; some mythological scenes, and the Night, 
 in the Gallery of Dresden, which, except to Raphael's 
 Virgin, is considered as the most precious jewel in that 
 rich casket. 
 
 But all the assiduity of Correggio was insufficient to 
 drive misery from his humble dwelling. The children 
 were growing, and bread was becoming necessary for 
 
PAINTERS. 165 
 
 those for whom the milk of the mother had for a time 
 sufficed. Sickness also came upon the family, and there 
 was no bread in the house. The provisions were almost 
 exhausted, and Antonio, fearing to hear his children say 
 those cruel words, which, several times, had almost bro- 
 ken his heart, " I am hungry," set out to procure some 
 assistance. 
 
 There were sixty crowns due to him in Parma : this 
 seemed an enormous sum to people reduced to misery. 
 Correggio had several times asked payment, but the 
 subaltern employers, with whom he dealt, always de- 
 ferred a settlement. Disagreeable as it was to ask so 
 often for his due, he armed himself with courage, and, 
 taking his cane, went to Parma, where, after much 
 trouble and disputing, he finally obtained a settlement. 
 They paid him the sixty crowns in copper money ; and 
 the poor artist, happy in the thought of the joy which 
 he should carry to his wife and children, gayly took the 
 heavy load upon his shoulders and set out. 
 
 The heat was excessive, and Correggio, enfeebled by 
 fatigues and privations of all sorts, was soon obliged to 
 slacken his pace. He thought of waiting till the mor- 
 row, but the idea that his children were crying for bread 
 caused him to press forward : he arrived at his house 
 before sunset, panting for breath, bathed in sweat, and 
 nearly exhausted. Being very thirsty, and having noth- 
 ing but water, he drank a large quantity : that night he 
 was seized with a violent fever, which caused the death 
 of this great man, who was not yet forty years old. 
 
166 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Nature has reproduced herself in all the works of this 
 eminent artist, and none of the geniuses spoken of in 
 this history, not even the divine Raphael, has succeeded 
 in giving to his compositions the grace which character- 
 izes those of Correggio. Without having learned the 
 secrets of his art from any master, without having stud- 
 ied antiquity, without having left his own country, 
 Antonio Allegri raised himself by his genius to the 
 rank of one of the first painters in the world. If he can 
 be reproached with slight incorrectness, and sometimes 
 a certain singularity in the air of the head, the attitudes 
 and contrasts, he overbalances these defects by such 
 great qualities, that they seem only as shadows destined 
 to throw out the light. The rich arrangement of his 
 compositions, an elevated taste, delicate and tender pen- 
 cilling, a large and powerful manner, an enchanting 
 color, and something vague, sweet, and soft, which the 
 Italians call rtorbidezza, and which can hardly be ex- 
 pressed in English, gave an inimitable charm to his 
 pictures. 
 
 Contemplating the beautiful works of Correggio in the 
 Paris museums, one understands all that there was un- 
 utterable and bitter at the same time in the words of 
 Antonio, the poor countryman, who hardly earned as 
 much as the mercenary laborer of the soil : "I, also, am 
 a painter ! " And one is seized with profound pity for 
 this man, so grand, so simple, so good, whose crown 
 of genius was a crown of thorns. It is not rare to see 
 
PAINTERS. 167 
 
 artists expiate glory by grief, and he will not be the 
 only one whose fate will excite the sympathy of our 
 readers. 
 
 Correggio has left only a small number of drawings, 
 and his only pupil was Francesco Mazzuoli, who became 
 celebrated under the name of Parmesan. After the 
 death of this incomparable man many painters studied his 
 works, and were inspired by his genius. 
 
 PAUL VERONESE. 
 
 Paul Cagliari was born at Verona, in 1532. His 
 father, who was a sculptor, desiring that his son might 
 pursue the same calling, taught him the principles of 
 drawing. Paul manifested a great inclination for this 
 study, but he could not succeed in working clay and 
 wax, and showed very little taste for this essential part 
 of the art. His ill success did not trouble him : he 
 wished to be a painter, and so often deserted the studio 
 of his father for that of his uncle, Antonio Badile, that 
 he was finally permitted to leave it entirely. 
 
 Antonio, though not a first class painter, was not 
 wanting in talent, and the young Cagliari had so great a 
 desire to learn, and so much natural facility, that his 
 progress astonished, not only his family, but the am- 
 ateurs of painting who frequented the house of Master 
 Badile. Every one predicted brilliant success, and 
 Antonio, one day, said to him, 
 
168 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 "Despite your youth, you are more skilful than I, my 
 dear nephew ; but it will not be sufficient that you are 
 the first artist of Yerona : there are in the world many 
 great works to be studied, many masters to be consulted, 
 and as I depend more upon your talent than mine to 
 bring my name into honor, I advise you to visit Venice, 
 Florence, and Rome. One has never done well enough, 
 when one can do better ; one never knows enough, when 
 he can learn more." 
 
 This advice was quite to Paul's mind, for he had long 
 desired to travel. But his father's ideas were different ; 
 he was growing old, and, preferring the solid to the 
 brilliant, he would have liked that the young man should 
 establish himself near him, and by his labor create and 
 assure a fixed, though modest, position. Antonio Ba- 
 dile was obliged repeatedly to point out the great destiny 
 in reserve for his son, and to urge him to decide upon his 
 departure. 
 
 At length -Paul left Yerona, promising himself not to 
 return until he should have visited all Italy, and become 
 a great artist. The Cardinal di Gonzaga, who had 
 seen some of his works, called him to Mantua, and the 
 young painter, happy to commence his career under the 
 patronage of so powerful and enlightened a man, ac- 
 cepted this invitation with gratitude. The cardinal 
 treated him, not as a beginner who gave great hopes, 
 but as an artist already celebrated ; and this reception 
 inspired Cagliari with an ardent desire to show himself 
 
PAINTEES. 169 
 
 worthy of such distinguished benevolence, and he im- 
 mediately began to work. 
 
 The Temptation of St. Anthony, which he made for 
 the church of Mantua, excited public admiration, and 
 the cardinal made him brilliant offers to remain with 
 him. Cagliari would have accepted, for he loved his 
 protector, and he could hardly expect more flattering 
 applause or more perfect kindness ; but he remembered 
 his uncle's advice, and begged the cardinal to permit 
 him to follow it. The cardinal made no great opposi- 
 tion ; and the young artist, laden with presents, de- 
 parted, filled with gratitude for the noble hospitality 
 which had been accorded him at Mantua. 
 
 At that time there were -many great painters at Ven- 
 ice Titian, Giorgione, and Tintoretto : Paul went to 
 Venice, where he soon gained a good reputation. Tin- 
 toretto, who, by patience and perseverance, had acquired 
 a remarkable talent, and who had had much difficulty in 
 overcoming the obstacles which rivals opposed to him, 
 was then occupied in paintings ordered by the Senate. 
 When the Senate saw Veronese's pictures, in which they 
 observed as much boldness as grace, as much force as 
 ease, and a faithful rendering of nature, they associated 
 him with Tintoretto. 
 
 Tintoretto was not jealous at seeing himself associated 
 with a strange artist ; Cagliari, on his part, professing 
 the highest esteem for Tintoretto, who was self-taught, 
 did not fear to manifest it ; and as Tintoretto worked 
 
170 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 % 
 
 for the love of work, Paul Veronese for the love of 
 glory, and neither of the two demeaned themselves to 
 vile calculations of interest, their rivalry was only a 
 noble emulation, in which was no mean sentiment. 
 
 Among the works which Cagliari produced at this time 
 is a fresco, representing Queen Esther before Ahasuerus. 
 This magnificent composition excited great enthusiasm 
 in Venice, and the republic engaged the author of it to 
 decorate the Library of St. Mark. Paul, who had fol- 
 lowed the manner of Titian, of Giorgione, and of Tin- 
 toretto, his rival, now began to form a manner of his 
 own, in which he could give himself up entirely to the 
 inspirations of his genius. 
 
 Thenceforward Veronese was considered one of the 
 most able painters in the world. But he did not allow 
 himself to be blinded by success ; he left Venice, and 
 went to Rome, not doubting that the studies of the 
 chefs-d'oeuvre of Michael Angelo and of Eaphael 
 might be profitable to him. He admired the sublime 
 compositions of those illustrious masters, and spent con- 
 siderable time in Eome, occupied in the contemplation 
 of these wonders. He might, perhaps, have forgotten 
 himself for years, had he not promised to return to 
 Venice. The Senate reminded him of his engagement 
 through the ambassador Girolamo Grimani, in whose 
 company he had made the journey. 
 
 On his return to Venice, Paul painted the Apotheosis 
 of Venice, with his enthusiasm exalted by the remem- 
 
PAINTERS. 171 
 
 brance of the beautiful paintings he had seen : this pic- 
 ture received unanimous applause. Antonio Badile was 
 not deceived in predicting that his nephew would be a 
 great artist, and Veronese had done well in following 
 the advice of this worthy relation : " One is never suffi- 
 ciently learned when there is more to be learned." 
 
 Other works, still more remarkable, succeeded the 
 Apotheosis of Venice. Paul Veronese excelled in 
 grand compositions. His vivacious, elevated, and fruit- 
 ful imagination, his delicate, sure, and easy pencil, his 
 talent to decorate the background of his paintings, his 
 taste for rich and varied ornament, were better adapted 
 to immense than to more restrained pictures. The Ban- 
 quets of this artist are all that can be desired in this style. 
 
 The most celebrated of these pictures is the Mar- 
 riage of Cana, which he painted for the refectory of 
 San Georgio Maggiore at Venice, now in the Louvre. 
 It is thirty feet wide by twenty feet high. The scene 
 is a brilliant hall, surrounded by majestic pillars. The 
 tables at which the guests are seated form three sides 
 of a parallelogram ; the guests, about one hundred and 
 thirty in number, are supposed to be almost entirely 
 contemporary portraits, of admirable execution. The 
 most remarkable feature is a group of musicians in the 
 centre, in front, around a table, also portraits. Paul 
 Veronese himself is playing the violoncello ; Tintoretto 
 a smaller instrument; 'the gray-haired Titian, in a red 
 damask robe, the contra-bass. 
 
172 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 Another not less remarkable composition is the Feast 
 of the Levite, in the Academy at Venice (formerly in 
 the refectory of San Giovanni e Paolo) . Louis XIV. , 
 having heard of the beauty of this picture, offered the 
 reverend fathers a large sum for it, which was refused. 
 They could not think of giving up this splendid picture, 
 the admiration of all the visitors to the convent. The 
 king, without complaining, let them see how much he 
 regretted their refusal. Louis XIV. was then in the 
 fulness of his power ; and as the displeasure of these 
 fathers was of little consequence to the republic, provided 
 that it could satisfy the King of France, the picture was 
 taken from the convent in the night, and sent to Paris. 
 
 Almost all the capitals of Europe are proud to show 
 some picture of this great painter, and engravings have 
 rendered them popular. He would have left many 
 more, if death had not cut him off in the plenitude of 
 his talent, and while the friends of art were counting 
 upon years of success. When, on Easter Sunday, 1588, 
 it was announced that Paul Veronese, who had been 
 sick for a few days, was dying, the joy with which the 
 people of Venice were celebrating the day was changed 
 to mourning. In him they regretted not only the emi- 
 nent artist, but the good man, in the full meaning of 
 the word. If the higher class recognized him as one of 
 them, boasting of his talent, his high-mindedness, and 
 the aristocracy of his language and manners, the lower 
 class also boasted that he never disdained them ; they 
 
PAINTERS. 173 
 
 spoke of the goodness of his heart, of his affability, and 
 related traits of benevolence and generosity which were 
 unknown during his life. 
 
 How admirable is the alliance of genius with virtue ! 
 Posterity will ever delight in rendering homage to those 
 whose foreheads are irradiated with this double crown. 
 
 No painter could display all the richness of his art 
 better than Paul Veronese ; his compositions are mar- 
 vellously imagined, and not less marvellously executed ; 
 his positions are true, noble, and graceful ; his types are 
 of varied and rare beauty, his color extensive, and his 
 draperies of a taste and magnificence which belong only 
 to him. However, it is to be regretted that the painter, 
 carried away by his genius, should have failed in his- 
 torical fitness, by giving to his personages the faces and 
 costumes of the celebrities of his own times, forget- 
 ting the singular anachronisms which result therefrom. 
 Sometimes he painted for practice only ; and for this 
 reason, all his pictures are not equally beautiful. 
 
 Paul Veronese has left a great number of drawings, 
 which amateurs consider as very precious, and never 
 tire of admiring their fine arrangement and numerous 
 details. He has also left some crayon studies. 
 
 The painter honored his art by the noble and disin- 
 terested manner in which he exercised it : the matter of 
 money-making never entered into any of his plans, and 
 he never thought of what his pictures would bring, ex- 
 cepting when he wished to aid some unfortunate person , 
 or some artist without resources. 
 
174 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 It is said, that, being much pleased by the manner in 
 which he was received in a country-house in the suburbs 
 of Venice, he testified his gratitude by a present of one 
 of his pictures. During his sojourn in that villa, he 
 secretly painted a picture representing the family of 
 Darius at the feet of Alexander, and left it in the cham- 
 ber when he departed. In this picture, twenty figures, 
 of life-size, were painted in a very short time, and by 
 snatches ; but it is none the less a chef-d'oeuvre. 
 
 Paul Veronese died at the age of fifty-eight years. 
 He left two sons, Charles and Gabriel, who both fol- 
 lowed the art of painting. Charles had much natural 
 taste, and might have equalled his father, had not too 
 severe application abridged his life. Gabriel painted 
 only as an amateur ; however, with the assistance of his 
 uncle, Benoit Cagliari, he completed many unfinished 
 pictures left by Paul Veronese. Benoit, Paul's brother, 
 had often worked with the great artist ; yet, modest as 
 industrious, he little thought of the reputation he could 
 acquire by claiming some of the works which they had 
 done in common. 
 
 Alexander Veronese was not of the same family. 
 The surname of Veronese was given to him, as to Paul, 
 from the city of Verona, his birthplace. Vigorous col- 
 oring, correct drawing, and graceful pencilling distin- 
 guish the pictures of this artist ; but they cannot be 
 compared to those of the painter whose history we have 
 given. 
 
PAINTERS. 175 
 
 Guido Eeni was born at Bologna, in 1575. Daniel 
 Eeni, his father, was a flute-player, and destined him, 
 when quite young, to music. He applied himself to it 
 to satisfy his parents ; but he had much more taste for 
 painting: when he knew that no one saw him, he left 
 his piano to draw figures on the walls, which he rubbed 
 out as soon as he heard the least noise. With all his 
 care, he was detected ; and his father, understanding 
 that he would never make anything but an ordinary 
 musician, and hoping to make a great painter of him, 
 placed him in Denis Calvart's studio. 
 
 He never repented this step : the young Reni's un- 
 common powers, added to great application, soon made 
 him one of the best pupils of the Dutch painter. Denis 
 was not without talent ; but he had neither the boldness 
 of touch nor the facility of execution which Guido pos- 
 sessed, and in a few years saw himself surpassed by his 
 pupil. About this time, Louis Carracci, aided by his 
 cousins, Augustine and Hannibal, founded a new school 
 of painting at Bologna, which was to compete with that 
 of Master Calvart, and profess entirely different prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 The manner of the Carracci, approved by some con- 
 noisseurs, greatly displeased Denis, who declared him- 
 self their enemy, and threatened to send away, in 
 
176 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 disgrace, any of his pupils who should dare to imitate 
 any of these new masters. Meanwhile Guido had been 
 struck by the peculiar character which went out of this 
 school. Denis Calvart was attached to the manner of 
 Caravaggio, who had substituted the servile imitation 
 of nature for the study of the beauties of antiquity, and 
 the admirable compositions of Raphael, of Michael 
 Angelo, and of Titian. The Carracci had risen against 
 this pretended reform ; they wished to lead back paint- 
 ing to the state from whence Caravaggio had made it 
 depart, to restore the purity of drawing, the pleasant 
 and flattering brilliancy to color, and to replace the 
 freaks of imagination by learned and graceful composi- 
 tions. 
 
 Guido, enlightened by his own genius, understood 
 that the efforts of the Carracci would be crowned with 
 success, and became the secret partisan of their method. 
 It was difficult for him to endure the bitter criticisms 
 which Calvart made of their works ; however, his mild 
 and timid disposition, and the respect which he had for 
 his master, prevented his making any manifestation. 
 The jealousy of Denis grew bitter in proportion as the 
 reputation of the Carracci increased ; and, seeing that 
 his pupils did not sympathize with him as he wished, he 
 burst into passionate reproaches and ill usage. 
 
 After one of these scenes, which took place almost 
 daily, Guido left Denis Calvart, in company with Al- 
 bano, his prote*ge*, Guercino, and some other young per- 
 
PAINTERS. 177 
 
 sons, and went to the school of Carracci, where they 
 were admitted without difficulty. 
 
 Louis and Hannibal were not slow in appreciating the 
 talent of Guido ; and, foreseeing that he would do honor 
 to themselves, they taught him with the utmost care and 
 attention. Guido improved wonderfully : if he had made 
 progress under the direction of Calvart, he could not fail 
 to astonish his new masters, whose method appeared to 
 him as simple as excellent. 
 
 Soon after adopting it, he painted the picture of 
 Orpheus and Eurydice, a noble work, with a vivid 
 and true coloring, great skill in chiaro-scuro, and an 
 easy, yet bold touch. Young as Guido was, he was 
 considered a good artist, and the Carracci put his pic- 
 ture in competition with that of Caravaggio. 
 
 Michael Angelo Caravaggio was not a man to bear 
 what he considered an insult patiently, and war broke 
 out between these two schools. Guido, the object of 
 the teasing and vexatious annoyance of the partisans of 
 this artist, learned that it is no easy matter to be a re- 
 nowned painter before being a man ; but he showed 
 much wisdom and moderation in many encounters, and 
 answered the vindictiveness of his enemies by saying, 
 
 " I prefer the manner of the Carracci to that of Cara- 
 vaggio, because I like the light of day better than the 
 darkness of night. I have no objection to his following 
 his taste, only let him permit me to follow mine." 
 
 Finally, the justice of his remarks quieted his enemies, 
 12 
 
178 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 and they allowed him to work in peace. The felicita- 
 tions which Guido received encouraged him to deserve 
 them. He did not, like many young people, imagine 
 that, because he had been successful, he had nothing to 
 learn ; on the contrary, he redoubled his exertions, and, 
 not content with merely studying the works of great 
 masters, he wished to imitate them. He copied the 
 beautiful picture of $t. Cecilia, which Rapbfael sent to 
 Bologna, and presented it to Cardinal Facchinetti, his 
 protector. Pe9ple expatiated upon the beauty of this 
 picture, and the facility with which the young artist had 
 imitated the incomparable Raphael ; and Guido, having 
 sent two other pictures to Rome about the same time, 
 was invited to go thither. 
 
 Guido, who had long dreamed of Rome, the beloved 
 city of artists, was overjoyed. His friend Albano, al- 
 ready there, had mentioned him to several celebrated 
 painters. Albano had not forgotten all the kindnesses 
 he had received from Guido while they were with Denis 
 Calvart. 
 
 Josepin gave Guido Reni, in whom he saw not only 
 the friend of Albano, but the adversary of Caravaggio, 
 a very favorable reception. He presented him to sev- 
 eral illustrious personages, who knew of him through 
 his works. The fine appearance of the young artist, his 
 elegant manners, intelligence, and charming conversa- 
 tion, completed what the sight of his pictures had com- 
 menced, and he was not long in becoming the painter 
 
PAINTERS. 179 
 
 d-la-mode. All drawing-rooms were open to him, and 
 people vied with each other who should first order pic- 
 tures from him. 
 
 Jose'pin had never pardoned Caravaggio the victory 
 gained in a competition between them ; and, believing 
 Guido Reni more capable than himself to revenge this 
 defeat, he intrigued with Cardinal Borghese, so that a 
 Crucifixion of St. Peter was taken from Caravaggio, 
 and given to Guido. 
 
 No sooner had Caravaggio, who was absent from 
 Rome, heard what had happened, than he challenged 
 Jose'pin to a duel. Jose'pin refused, saying his title as 
 gentleman would not permit him to fight with a plebeian. 
 Caravaggio, whose temper was violent and impetuous, 
 was excited beyond measure at such an answer. . He 
 resolved to go to Malta, and get the order of knighthood, 
 so as to deprive his enemy of all pretext for refusing his 
 challenge. But, before leaving, he wished to see Guido, 
 whom he hated, and permitted himself to insult him. 
 Reni answered in the same tone, and Caravaggio, whose 
 fury deprived him of reason, seized a sword, and wounded 
 him badly in the face. 
 
 After this exploit he fled from Rome, and, not giving 
 up the desire of being revenged on Jose'pin, he went to 
 Malta, where he obtained the title of knight, as he de- 
 sired. His violent temper led him into many tragic 
 adventures, which ended in a miserable death. 
 
 Guido recommenced work as soon as he was cured of 
 
180 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 his wounds. Paul V. selected him to decorate his pri- 
 vate chapel, at the palace of Monte-Cavallo. A View 
 of Paradise, which he painted upon the arched ceiling, 
 and an Annunciation, behind the grand altar, charmed 
 the Pope, who never wearied of admiring the facility 
 with which his painter worked, and the freedom of his 
 mind in sustaining conversation, while his pencil was 
 never still for a moment. Paul Y. went to see his 
 chapel every day, and took great pleasure in conversing 
 with Guido, as Julius II. had with Michael Angelo, and 
 Leo X. with Kaphael. 
 
 The favor which Guido Reni enjoyed excited the jeal- 
 ousy of some of his rivals. They calumniated him at the 
 pontifical court; and, having succeeded in influencing 
 the Pope's treasurer, they caused the artist much trouble. 
 Guido, humiliated at being obliged to demand a price 
 for his work, and to barter with a man whose ill will 
 was but too evident, left Rome without saying a word 
 to any one, and returned to Bologna. 
 
 His fellow-citizens received him with the greatest 
 cordiality, thanked him for returning to them, and gave 
 him orders for pictures* He then painted the Apothe- 
 osis of St. Dominico, and the Massacre of the Inno- 
 cents. These two pictures were not finished when Guido 
 received a visit from the Legate of Bologna, who was 
 sent by the Pope to beg him to go back to Rome. 
 
 Paul V. had heard of the departure of his favorite 
 artist with as much pain as surprise ; and, not knowing 
 
PAINTERS. 181 
 
 the route he had taken, he sent couriers in all directions, 
 with orders to bring him back, after having promised 
 reparation for all the injuries and annoyances which he 
 had sustained. But Reni was too far in advance of the 
 couriers to be overtaken, and continued his route peace- 
 ably to Bologna ; meanwhile, the Pope threatened dis- 
 grace to those who had offended his painter, and thus 
 deprived Rome of eminent talent. As soon as he re- 
 ceived the news of Guide's arrival in his native town, 
 he wrote to his legate, ordering him to send Guido back 
 immediately. But Guido was not disposed to yield to the 
 wishes of the legate, and it was not until after long nego- 
 tiations that he at length consented to return to Rome. 
 
 When the cardinals were informed of his arrival, they 
 sent their carriages before him, using the ceremonies 
 observed at the entrance of ambassadors and great per- 
 sons, and Paul received him with testimonials of the most 
 sincere affection. He granted him a large pension, gave 
 him a magnificent equipage, and made the enemies of 
 the painter understand that they would not be safe in 
 attempting anything against him in future. 
 
 Having finished the entire decorations of Monte-Ca- 
 vallo, Guido undertook that of Santa Maria Maggiore, 
 and surpassed himself in this admirable work. His 
 reputation increased so much, that, to obtain a picture, 
 it was necessary to pay very dearly for the smallest, and 
 even before it was commenced. Princes and kings dis- 
 puted for his works, and, although he painted rapidly, 
 
182 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 he could not satisfy them all. We can judge of the 
 rapidity with which he painted, by the fact that the 
 Duke John Charles of Tuscany, having asked him to 
 paint a head of Hercules, he did it in the presence of 
 the prince, in less than two hours. For this head he 
 received sixty pistoles, a gold chain, and the medallion 
 of the duke. 
 
 Out of his studio, Guido was modest, affable, and 
 full of indulgence and kindness ; but as a painter, he 
 was proud, ostentatious, and haughty. While working, 
 he was magnificently dressed ; and his pupils, ranged on 
 either side, listened to his instructions in profound si- 
 lence, saw him paint, prepared his pallet, and cleaned 
 his brushes. He never set a price upon his pictures : he 
 received a recompense, and not a salary. He would 
 have lived in opulence, if he had not been led away by 
 the passion for gambling, to which he sacrificed enor- 
 mous sums. 
 
 New contrarieties, caused by the jealousies of others, 
 induced Guido to leave Rome a second time, and repair 
 to Bologna, where he painted the Labors of Hercules, 
 some mythological scenes, a Madonna , and an Annun- 
 ciation, which are thought to be remarkable composi- 
 sitions. Each of. these pictures had been ordered by a 
 king or a sovereign prince. No artist ever enjoyed a 
 higher reputation. He was invited to Naples, where 
 important works were confided to him ; but Ribera and 
 other Neapolitan painters threatening to kill him if he 
 
PAINTERS. 183 
 
 did not leave the city, Guido, who knew that everything 
 was to be feared from the envious, preferred to leave 
 rather than be the object of their persecutions. It was 
 at about this time that he began to give himself up to 
 his unbridled passion for gambling. The fortune which 
 he had so nobly acquired was swallowed up in a short 
 time ; he had recourse to usurers, and when this resource 
 failed, he recommenced painting. It required vast sums 
 of gold to feed the insatiable passion for gambling ; and 
 Guido, losing the respect he had hitherto had for his 
 talent, careless of his glory, delivered pictures, which 
 once he would have blushed to sign, to any who would 
 buy them. 
 
 When fortune failed him, which was often the case, 
 when he had played and lost some considerable sum 
 upon his word, he hastened to acquit himself; and, 
 under similar circumstances, he has been seen to paint 
 three pictures in one day. While he was young and 
 strong, he found in his inexhaustible fecundity the 
 means of satisfying the emotions which soon become the 
 life of the gambler ; but when age and its emotions 
 had weakened him, he had recourse to his friends, 
 and made debts which he found it impossible to pay. 
 Repeated demands wearied those friends who had at first 
 offered their purses to him, and the artist, who might 
 have been the happiest of all Italy, died of chagrin and 
 misery in 1642. 
 
 The compositions of Guido are distinguished by rich- 
 
184 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 ness and majesty. His pencilling was easy, light, and 
 flowing, his touch vivid, graceful, and full of spirit, his 
 drawing correct, his draperies are superb, his heads full 
 of expression and nobleness, and his complexions fresh 
 and life-like. 
 
 The most perfect works which he left are at Kome 
 and Bologna. There are also fine ones at Geneva, Mo- 
 dena, and Ravenna, indeed, in almost all European 
 museums. There are many in the Louvre, among 
 which is an Annunciation , painted for Queen Marie 
 de Medicis. 
 
 Guido was also a sculptor, musician, and engraver. 
 He engraved many religious subjects, painted by Han- 
 nibal, Carracci, Parmesan, and other artists, and many 
 have engraved after him. His drawings are much es- 
 teemed for their boldness and delicacy of touch, the 
 beauty of the heads, and the great taste displayed in the 
 draperies. 
 
 DOMENICHINO. 
 
 Domenico Zampieri, surnamed Domenichino, was 
 born at Bologna, October 21, 1581. His father was a 
 shoemaker, who, thanks to his assiduous labor, had 
 acquired a comfortable independence, with which he was 
 enabled to educate his son as well as the young people 
 of the best Bolognese families were educated. Domen- 
 ico profited well by the instructions which he received, 
 
PAINTERS. 185 
 
 and was much beloved by his teachers for his docility 
 and exemplary mildness. Zampieri possessed a good 
 heart, just principles, a modesty which sometimes de- 
 generated almost into timidity. His parents thought 
 him best fitted for the ecclesiastical state, if he showed 
 no dislike to the calling. 
 
 Very soon another vocation revealed itself to him. 
 Pictures of the best artists, which he contemplated with 
 indescribable pleasure, inspired him with a taste for 
 drawing, for which all other studies were neglected. 
 He gradually gave up reading, and renounced the 
 amusements natural to his age, to employ the time 
 in copying, at times badly, the engravings and draw- 
 ings bought with the limited sums destined for pocket- 
 money. 
 
 For a while he said nothing of the taste, which he 
 considered a passing fancy ; but when he was sure that 
 nothing would please him so much as painting, he con- 
 fided it to his father, who loved him too much to raise 
 objections to his wishes. He was taken from college, 
 and placed under the charge of Denis Calvart, the Dutch 
 painter, then in repute at Bologna, as the father of 
 Domenico preferred to confide his son to him, rather 
 than to the Caravacci, whose attempts at reform in their 
 school had found little favor with him. 
 
 Two of Calvart's best pupils, Guido and Albano, 
 had recently left him to go over to the Carracci, and the 
 jealousy of the foreigner against his rivals had much 
 
186 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 increased. Unjust, as an envious person always is, he 
 defamed the Carracci unmercifully, criticised their man- 
 ner, and denied their talent. According to him, Louis, 
 Augustine, and Hannibal were ignorant, ambitious peo- 
 ple ; and the revolution in painting, which they were 
 trying to bring about, would end in the complete ruin 
 of the art. 
 
 At first the young Zampieri supposed his master was 
 right, and he labored zealously to follow his instruc- 
 tions. But when he had made sufficient progress to 
 judge for himself of the merits of a picture, he studied 
 those of the new school, and found that Denis treated 
 the works of the Carracci very severely. For himself he 
 observed that the drawing was very correct, the coloring 
 good, the attitudes noble and truthful, and that they ex- 
 celled in that in which his master was deficient, a faith- 
 ful imitation of nature. 
 
 Zampieri secretly procured some models of the Car- 
 racci, which he copied as secretly. Denis had ex- 
 pressly forbidden that any of these models should be 
 brought into his studio. It was only in the absence of 
 the master that Domenico substituted^ Carracci's pictures 
 for those which had been given him to copy. One day, 
 while busily occupied, Calvart unexpectedly entered, be- 
 fore he had time to put away the prohibited model. 
 
 The master, in a fury, seized the picture, tore it in 
 pieces, and trampled it under his feet. He abused 
 Domenico, who dared not undertake to justify himself, 
 
PAINTERS. 187 
 
 and determined to allow the storm to pass over. But 
 Denis was not the man to forgive such an offence ; from 
 that day Zampieri became the object of his hatred ; he 
 had no words of kindness or encouragement for him, 
 treating him with harshness and despite, and predict- 
 ing that he would never be anything but a dauber. 
 
 With all his mildness and patience, Domenico be- 
 came tired of continual reproaches and vexations ; he 
 much regretted that he had not gone to the Carracci 
 rather than to this violent man, who would not listen to 
 reason ; but he dared not go away, and did not tell his 
 father all that he had to suffer. One day, however, 
 Denis, more irritated than usual against his adversa- 
 ries, perhaps because he could not deny their merit, 
 criticised them with the greatest bitterness, and as usual, 
 after having vented his rage upon the Carracci, he turned 
 upon Zampieri. 
 
 "Pardon me," said the timid pupil, calmly, "I had no 
 wish to offend you : I thought, to become an artist, it is 
 good to study the works of many masters, to imitate 
 what is good in each." 
 
 The answer was just ; and precisely because it was so, 
 Calvart became furious, and, lacking better arguments 
 to oppose to his pupil, he seized an easel and struck 
 him. That was more than Domenico could bear : he 
 left the studio with tears in his eyes, and returned to 
 his father, from whom he could no longer conceal his 
 troubles. Zampieri, indignant, gently reproached him 
 
188 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 for not having complained before : he then went to 
 Louis Carracci, to beg him to take care of his son. 
 
 Domenico presented himself the next morning, and 
 was received with all the affection which his suffering 
 for the cause of his new masters induced. Louis was 
 particularly friendly to him on account of his timidity 
 and sweetness, and his feeble and slender appearance : 
 he gave him the name of Domenichino, little Domenico, 
 a name which he always afterwards bore. 
 
 The Carracci were zealous and kind in their teach- 
 ings ; under their instruction Domenichino made rapid 
 progress. However, he was not one of those artists 
 who possess an intuitive knowledge, and need almost no 
 instruction ; his genius was colder, more reflective ; it 
 needed study and labor to make it fruitful. Louis Car- 
 racci was just the master for such a pupil, for he had 
 himself been accused of incapacity in his youth. He 
 made it a point to encourage Domenichino, and inspire 
 him with a certain confidence in his own powers. 
 
 At first he did not succeed ; and prizes having been 
 offered to those who should paint best, in the studio, 
 Domenichino refused to compete with the other pupils, 
 but he painted the picture required. On the day fixed 
 for the distribution of prizes, the work of each was care- 
 fully examined by the three Carracci : Louis, to whose 
 care Zarnpieri was specially confided, told him that it 
 was a pity he had not tried his skill. Domenichino 
 blushed, went away for a moment, and returned bring- 
 
PAINTERS. 189 
 
 ing a picture, which he showed the professor with a 
 trembling hand. 
 
 No sooner had Louis cast his eyes upon jt than he 
 judged it worthy of being presented to Augustin, Anni- 
 bal, and the amateurs who always united with them in 
 deciding the merits of the competitors. Again they ex- 
 amined all the works, and compared them with that of 
 Domenichino, to which the preference was unanimously 
 accorded. This triumph filled the young artist with joy, 
 without enfeebling his modesty. 
 
 Albano was among the number of Louis Carracci's 
 pupils. He was charmed with the good qualities of 
 Domenichino, and became his intimate friend ; from that 
 time nothing was wanting to the happiness of Zampieri, 
 until Albano, who was some years the elder, left the 
 school of Carracci, and went to Rome, with an ardent 
 desire to study the works of the great masters. Anni- 
 bal Carracci was there, and took pains to get him some 
 orders, and to introduce him. But Albano did not for- 
 get his friend, and after a sojourn of one year, he sent 
 him several drawings which he had made after Raphael. 
 
 Domenichino was surprised at the progress which Al- 
 bano had made, and determined to go to the city which 
 possessed so many admirable masterpieces. Without 
 informing Albano of his intention, he unexpectedly pre- 
 sented himself, and was joyfully received by his friend, 
 who presented him to Ahnibal, and he, in consequence 
 of the length of time he had been with Louis, allowed 
 
190 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 him to share his labors. Zampieri appreciated the ser- 
 vice rendered by his friend, and acknowledged it with 
 the most heartfelt gratitude ; for without this succor, 
 his timidity would have prevented his finding a protec- 
 tor in Rome, where he was unknown. 
 
 Annibal Carracci was painting the frescoes of the 
 Gallery Farnese, magnificent pictures, for which the 
 artist had the grief of being troubled concerning pay- 
 ment when they were finished. Domenichino was happy 
 to work with, and receive the advice of such a master. 
 All the time which he did not occupy in the Palace 
 Farnese, he spent at the Vatican, before the sublime 
 compositions of Raphael and Michael Angelo ; this was 
 his only amusement. 
 
 Domenichino's love of labor was rewarded by great 
 success, and a picture of the Death of Adonis, con- 
 fided to the pencil of the young man by Annibal, pro- 
 duced great sensation in the world of artists and con- 
 noisseurs. This work places Domenichino at once in 
 the rank of painters then at Rome. He was not allowed 
 to enjoy his good fortune in peace : envy created numer- 
 ous enemies, who persecuted and troubled him greatly. 
 Albano remained faithful, consoled and encouraged him, 
 or tried to make him despise the injustice of those whom 
 his growing reputation overshadowed. Domenichino's 
 moderation was admirable, but his feelings were cruelly 
 wounded at seeing those whom he considered almost 
 friends turn against him. 
 
PAINTERS. 191 
 
 Augustin Carracci, jealous, like the rest, of this new 
 rising star, ranged himself with the enemies of Domeni- 
 chino. The reflection, the slowness with which the 
 young man worked, gave Augustin the idea of naming 
 him the Ox ; which name he used in speaking either of 
 or to him. Annibal rarely agreed with his brother Au- 
 gustin, though he loved him very much : he defended 
 Domenichino, whose future greatness he foresaw, and 
 one day he said to Augustin, who was using the gross 
 appellation of Ox, 
 
 " If God permits you and me to live a few years longer, 
 my brother, we shall see the field of painting fertilized 
 by this ox, which ploughs so steadily and laboriously." 
 
 When the Death of Adonis appeared, Bolognese 
 Agucchi recommended the young Zampieri to the cardi- 
 nal, his brother, who promised to protect him : but dis- 
 cussions upon the merits of the picture were caused by 
 the jealous painters, which cooled off their good dispo- 
 sitions, and the cardinal postponed the fulfilment of his 
 promise. A new work brought forth the talent of Do- 
 menichino into full light : the Deliverance of St. Peter 
 was much admired, and Cardinal Agucchi confided the 
 decoration of the Chapel of St. Onuphre to the modest 
 artist. 
 
 Domenichino acquitted himself wonderfully of this 
 work, and showed himself from day to day more worthy 
 of the protection accorded to him. Susanna and the 
 Elders, St. Paul caught up to Heaven, a St. Francis, 
 and a St. Jerome were successively produced. 
 
192 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 The charge for erecting a monument to Annibal Car- 
 racci, who died about this time, was given to Domeni- 
 chino : he made a plan for it, and did some of the sculp- 
 turing himself ; he also painted the portrait of him , who 
 had been his teacher and friend, above the monument. 
 
 The reputation of the young artist continually in- 
 creased. Cardinal Aldobrandini selected him to deco- 
 rate the Palace Belvidere ; and some time after Cardinal 
 Odoardo wished him to paint some scenes from the life 
 of St. Bartholomew, for the Abbey of Grotta Ferrata. 
 While occupied with the last work, he chanced to see a 
 young girl whose candor and modesty pleased him, and 
 he determined to ask her in marriage. Fearing to make 
 the proposition, he waited until his position was sure, so 
 that he should not be refused ; yet, desirous to give this 
 girl, whom he had approved in his heart, a proof of 
 his sentiments, he painted her, in one of his pictures, in 
 the costume of a page. The resemblance was so strik- 
 ing, that the name of the young girl was circulated from 
 mouth to mouth, and her parents, instead of feeling flat- 
 tered, as Domenichino supposed they would, were indig- 
 nant ; and using their influence, and that of their friends, 
 with Cardinal Odoardo, they succeeded in having the 
 artist dismissed. 
 
 It was fortunate for Domenichino that Albano re- 
 mained in Kome, to sympathize with, and console him, 
 in this new affliction. This friend procured for him 
 a part of the painting to be executed in the Castle of 
 
PAINTEKS. 193 
 
 Bassano, where he displayed so' much talent, that the 
 direction of the frescoes for the Chapel of St. Andrew 
 were confided to him. 
 
 There he came in competition with Guido, whom he 
 had before seen in the school of the Carracci. Domeni- 
 chino painted a St. Andrew beaten with Rods, and 
 Guido a St. Andrew at Prayer. The work of Guido 
 was judged superior to that of Domenichino, and he re- 
 ceived four hundred crowns for it, while Zampieri re- 
 ceived only one hundred and fifty crowns. Domeni- 
 chino felt this severely ; he had flattered himself that he 
 painted, at least, equal to Guido. He determined to 
 leave a city where his talent was so little appreciated, 
 and to return to Bologna. He was on the point of leav- 
 ing, when he received an order for the Communion of 
 St. Jerome, for the great altar of San Girolamo. He 
 returned to his pencil, and animated by the desire of a 
 brilliant revenge for the injustice which pursued him, he 
 produced a work which deserved a place near those of 
 the great masters. Every one wished to see the Com- 
 munion of St. Jerome, and all unprejudiced connois- 
 seurs declared that this excellent picture could be com- 
 pared with the Transfiguration by Raphael. 
 
 In presence of such success, envy, crushed by the 
 impossibility of contesting the beauty of this sublime 
 composition, was silenced ; but, growing bold, she soon 
 began to murmur that it was nothing but a copy ; that if 
 Domenichino had succeeded in the painting, the idea 
 13 
 
194 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 was not his own, and that he had borrowed it from Au- 
 guistino Carracci, one of his old enemies. It was true 
 that Augustino had touched this subject, but Domeni- 
 chino had much surpassed him, and there existed be- 
 tween the two painters only the analogy, which is so 
 often found between those of different masters who have 
 retraced the same scenes ; for example, the Holy Family 
 or the Adoration of the Magi. 
 
 Domenichino's St. Jerome was engraved, and spread 
 throughout Europe ; and the reputation of the painter 
 threatening to obscure that of his persecutors, Lanfranc, 
 who, notwithstanding his incontestable talent, had taken 
 sides with the persecutors of Zampieri, caused Augus- 
 tino Carracci's picture to be engraved, hoping to dimin- 
 ish the glory of Domenichino by the comparison. 
 
 Deeply afflicted with such proceedings, and the hatred 
 which they proved, our artist, who never injured any 
 one, and who wished to love his enemies, was upon the 
 point of leaving the field free to their calumnies, and 
 going to live alone in some secluded retreat ; but, though 
 working hard and living simply, he had not the means 
 to pay his travelling expenses. He saw the pictures of 
 other artists covered with gold, and he received but a 
 trifling sum for his. The Communion of /St. Jerome, 
 which is still considered a masterpiece of painting, 
 brought him only fifty crowns. He was at that time 
 obliged to contend with the discouragement which took 
 possession of his soul, and find his only comfort in assid- 
 uous labor. 
 
PAINTERS. 195 
 
 He was charged to paint the frescoes in the Chapel 
 of St. Cecilia, in the Church St. Louis des Fran^ais, 
 where his work was so satisfactory, that they begged him 
 to decorate the Cathedral of Fano. Domenichino de- 
 sired so much to leave Rome, that he joyfully acceded 
 to the propositions which they made him, and departed, 
 happy to escape, at least for a time, the numerous vex- 
 ations which made life a torment. 
 
 The family Nolfi, at Fano, received him with all the 
 distinction due to his merit, and he set to work with a 
 serenity of feeling which he had not enjoyed for many 
 years. He learned to inspire his works with his own 
 feelings ; the frescoes representing the history of the 
 Virgin, with which he ornamented the Cathedral of 
 Fano, breathed celestial happiness. The years which 
 he devoted to this work were the happiest of his life, 
 and he never forgot them. The calmness he then en- 
 joyed brought back the remembrance of his childhood, 
 and he wished to see his native city again. He hoped 
 that his fellow-citizens would receive him as an artist of 
 whom they could be proud. He was doomed to be dis- 
 appointed. Bologna reserved all her sympathy for 
 another of her children, for Guido, who returned to her, 
 surrounded by princely splendor, while Domenichino 
 came back as poor as he left. 
 
 His hopes blasted, he returned to Rome, but was 
 immediately recalled by a noble Bolognese family to 
 take charge of a large picture destined for the Church 
 
196 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 of San Giovanni in Monte. This picture was to represent 
 the Virgin with a Rosary. While at work there, the 
 Lords of Ratta, his new protectors, presented him to 
 the parents of a young girl, named Marsabilia Barbetti. 
 Domenichino, attracted by the good qualities and un- 
 common beauty of Marsabilia, offered her his hand. 
 The young girl, flattered on her part by the talent of 
 Zampieri, and affected by his trials, consented to under- 
 take to make him forget them. 
 
 The parents promised a considerable dowry, but when 
 it was necessary to pay, difficulties arose, and Domeni- 
 chino, forced to sustain a lawsuit against his wife's family, 
 received only the wreck of the fortune she was to pos- 
 sess. However, he was easily consoled, for Marsabilia 
 was a good and devoted companion, filled with tender- 
 ness and respect for the artist ; she roused his courage, 
 by predicting future good fortune, and knew how to 
 make her humble home so pleasant and happy, that if 
 he desired wealth and reputation, it was only to lay 
 them at her feet. 
 
 Two children cheered the heart of Zampieri, who, re- 
 membering the long years of suffering and isolation, 
 thanked God for having taken pity on him. These two 
 children, his pride and joy, were taken from him by 
 death. It was a terrible stroke for the poor father, and 
 Marsabilia silenced her own grief that she might con- 
 sole him. She tried to lead the thoughts of the artist 
 to the glory which he had commenced to forget in his 
 
PAINTERS. 197 
 
 domestic felicity ; she persuaded him to return to 
 Rome. 
 
 Gregory XV., who loved Domenichino very much, 
 and who, before ascending the pontifical throne, had 
 been godfather to one of his children, received him most 
 graciously. Cardinal Montalte, who was about build- 
 ing the Church of St. Andrea della Valle, chose Zampi- 
 eri, upon the recommendation of the Pope, to decorate 
 it. The artist needing distraction, gave himself entirely 
 to this work, and produced frescoes which excited en- 
 thusiastic admiration. Nothing so perfect had been 
 seen since Raphael's death. The Four Evangelists , 
 and a picture of the Martyrdom of St. Agnes , were 
 eminently beautiful. The Pope wished to felicitate 
 Domenichino himself, and all the illustrious people of 
 Rome imitated Gregory XV. 
 
 Zampieri, sensibly affected by these proofs of interest, 
 desired to show that he was worthy of them, by pro- 
 ducing something still better. He pondered upon a 
 composition for the Cupola of San Andrea which 
 should surpass anything- he had yet done ; and he thought 
 of it night and day. When his thoughts were matured, 
 flattering himself with the idea of success, he heard that 
 Lanfranc had begged, and obtained from the cardinal, 
 the painting of the dome. More saddened than sur- 
 prised by this new cross, Domenichino did not try to 
 revenge himself; he had' suffered so much that resigna- 
 tion began to be easier to him. The Pope, hearing 
 
198 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 what had been done, wished to indemnify him for the 
 injustice, and gave him the superintendence of the pal- 
 ace and papal buildings. During the life of Gregory 
 XV. he distinguished himself in this position, for he 
 was a good architect as well as a good painter. After 
 the Pope's death, Domenichino, who had many enemies 
 in Rome, impatiently awaited important orders from 
 some other city, which would enable him to leave Rome. 
 
 One day he entered his house joyfully, and told his 
 wife to prepare to go. 
 
 "Have you, then, received good news?" asked she. 
 
 "Excellent. They have written to me to come to 
 Naples to decorate the Dome of St. Gennaio." 
 
 "To Naples ! " exclaimed the young woman, turning 
 pale. 
 
 " Yes, to Naples : and think of my joy, the Cupola of 
 San Gennaio, much larger than that of San Andrea, 
 will admit of my giving full expression to the ideas 
 which I have already conceived, and to prove to those 
 who preferred Lanfranc how much they erred. But 
 what is the matter with you ? Why do you not sym- 
 pathize with my feelings ? " 
 
 "You forget," replied Marsabilia, mildly, "that at 
 Naples, more than elsewhere, you will have to contend 
 with the jealousy which has ever pursued you." 
 
 " No, I forget nothing. I know that the Neapolitan 
 painters have sworn not to allow any stranger to dispute 
 the palm with them ; but because I am requested to go, 
 
PAINTERS. 199 
 
 they can have no reason to reproach me. Besides, here 
 I hav.e enemies, as you well know. Why then should 
 the fear of meeting others in Naples, prevent me from 
 undertaking a work worthy of myself? " 
 
 w You know how ardently I desire your glory," replied 
 Marsabilia, "yet, I know not why, but I feel that it is 
 not good for you to go there. Give it up, I beg of you, 
 if not for your own safety, at least for that of your wife 
 and your child." 
 
 Marsabilia's prayers being of no avail, she resolved 
 to accompany him to Naples. Her presentiments were 
 but too just. The Neapolitan painters, headed by Ri- 
 bera, hearing that Domenichino was about to undertake 
 the painting of the Dome of San Gennaio, resolved to 
 throw so many impediments in the way of the new 
 comer, and to humiliate him to such a degree, that he 
 would gladly abandon the work. But Domenichino 
 bore it all patiently ; he closed his eyes to the persecu- 
 tions of which he was the object, and not wishing to 
 demean himself by contending against their malice, he 
 only occupied himself with his work. Every day they 
 threatened him anew, but he disregarded them, until, 
 having escaped the dagger of an assassin hired to kill 
 him, he left Naples. His wife and children were to join 
 him after a brief delay, but they were hindered by those 
 who wished to have the cupola finished by Domenichino. 
 AY hen he heard that, he returned to the dear objects of 
 his affection, from whom he could not be long separated. 
 
200 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 He resumed his pencil, resolving not to lay it aside 
 until the cupola was finished, in despite of hinderafices. 
 
 His resolution astonished his enemies, without dis- 
 concerting them : they intrigued with the workman who 
 had the charge of preparing the mortar upon which 
 Domenichino was painting, and through money and 
 promises induced him to mix cinders with the lime and 
 sand. 
 
 What was the despair of Domenichino when he per- 
 ceived that numberless cracks marred his painting ! 
 All his labor was lost, and he was forced to recommence. 
 He was at a loss to understand the cause of the trouble, 
 until he recognized the work of his enemies, and began 
 to fear that they would find other means to injure him. 
 
 Assured of the treason of the workman whom he em- 
 
 
 
 ployed, he forbade the approach of any assistant : he 
 made his mortars, and applied them himself; he ground 
 his colors. Alone, shut up in the church, he repaired his 
 damaged work as well as he could ; but his health, en- 
 feebled by all that he had suffered, gave way under this 
 new chagrin and excess of labor which he was impos- 
 ing upon himself. 
 
 He was not yet reestablished, when he was secretly in- 
 formed that his enemies were resolved to poison him, 
 and he felt obliged to prepare his own food. His life, 
 which had been only a succession of troubles, availed 
 him little : he cared to preserve it, only that he might 
 finish his work. But notwithstanding all his precau- 
 
PAINTERS. 201 
 
 tions, all the trouble he took to withdraw himself from 
 the bad designs formed against him, tradition assures us 
 that he was poisoned by a mercenary hand. If it were 
 not so, it is easy to imagine that his end was hastened 
 by cares and chagrins, and his enemies are not the less 
 responsible for his death. 
 
 Even his death did not satisfy their hatred ; they un- 
 justly criticised the works which he had commenced, 
 and Lanfranc, who was empowered to finish them, in- 
 trigued until he was permitted to scrape off all that his 
 predecessor had painted. Not content with this outrage 
 to the memory of Domenichino, the Neapolitan artists 
 advised the Spanish viceroy to require the restitution 
 of the sums which the unhappy painter had used ; and, 
 shameful to relate, this advice was followed. 
 
 Few artists have had so much to contend with, and 
 suffered so much from the envious as Domenichino. If 
 it is true that envy attaches itself to great talents, the 
 number of those who can pretend to surpass him is very 
 small. His merit, so long contested, has been re- 
 cognized, and posterity, at least, renders him justice. 
 Poussin, a great admirer of his numerous works, has 
 named him the painter par excellence. 
 
 It is impossible to find more accurate compositions 
 than those of Domenichino. In them the passions are 
 expressed with perfect truth, the designs are pure, the 
 attitudes well chosen, the bearings of the heads are 
 simple, and of an astonishing variety, the draperies 
 
202 . THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 thrown on with exquisite taste, the colors fresh and 
 soft. His frescoes are more esteemed than his oil-paint- 
 ings ; everything about them is studied with the most 
 extreme care, harmony reigns throughout, and nothing 
 betrays fatigue, because Domenichino, always the mas- 
 ter of his subject, solved all the difficulties which he 
 should be likely to meet beforehand. He had no love 
 for society where his simple exterior and lack of accom- 
 plishments prevented his succeeding ; he tried to be suffi- 
 cient unto himself. After long hours of work, his 
 recreation was a long walk into the country ; and while 
 he exercised his body, he occupied his mind with the 
 subjects of his choice. So great was his desire to ren- 
 der his pictures truthful, that he studied himself for a 
 model, giving himself up to gayety or sadness, accord- 
 ing to the sentiments he desired to portray. 
 
 His character was good, humane, and generous ; 
 neither hatred nor the desire of vengeance ever caused 
 an unkind thought : he used to say that he preferred 
 being the victim rather than the executioner. 
 
 He died at the age of sixty years. 
 
 KIBERA. 
 
 Joseph Ribera, born at Xativa, near Valencia, in 1588, 
 was at first destined to the military career, which his 
 father had followed, and was sent, when quite young, to 
 
PAINTERS. 203 
 
 Valencia, for his education. Endowed with great intel- 
 ligence, he made rapid progress, and his teachers fore- 
 told a brilliant career for him, when suddenly he 
 showtd a disgust for study, and occupied himself with 
 drawing and painting. 
 
 His father, who regretted to see him take this fancy, 
 tried to turn his attention ; but Ribera declared that he 
 could never be other than a poor doctor or a bad sol- 
 dier if he followed a constrained vocation, while if left 
 to follow the bent of his inclination, he was sure of be- 
 coming a famous painter. Despite his youth, he said 
 this with so much conviction, with so much confidence 
 in himself, that his father permitted him to leave the 
 university for the studio of Francisco Ribalta. 
 
 Joseph, who really had great taste for the arts, was 
 not slow to distinguish himself under the direction of 
 this able master, and Ribalta allowed him to partake of 
 his labors. This should have satisfied the ambition of 
 Ribera ; but, in proportion as he improved, his desire to 
 see the chefs-d'oeuvre of Italy, of which he had heard so 
 much, increased. Just when Ribalta felicitated himself 
 upon having found a successor in his pupil, Joseph an- 
 nounced his intention to depart. His eldest brother, 
 who was going to take the command of a company of 
 cavalry in the kingdom of Naples, had much difficulty 
 in persuading him to wait until they could go together. 
 
 At first all went on merrily, and the voyage appeared 
 charming to the two young people ; but the officer hav- 
 
204 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 ing been made a prisoner in the first encounter, Joseph 
 alone, without support, without any resources whatever, 
 in a foreign country, regretted Spain, which he had so joy- 
 ously left. His regrets soon passed away ; for Ribera had 
 the heart of a man in his youthful body : he determined 
 not to return home. He had come to Italy to see the 
 wonders of Rome ; he would see Rome. He set out on 
 foot, begging along the route when too cruelly pressed by 
 hunger, and sleeping under the beautiful sky. He ar- 
 rived at Rome, exhausted by fatigue, and hardly covered 
 by miserable rags. To present himself to an artist in 
 such a predicament was to expose himself to an inevita- 
 ble affront, and Ribera was too proud to risk it. He 
 lived in Rome as he had lived in getting there ; he 
 needed very little ; a crust of bread, a few vegetables 
 which he could find in a corner, were sufficient. 
 
 He passed the days in studying the works of the mas- 
 ters in the churches, or in drawing, in the streets, what- 
 ever seemed to merit his attention. 
 
 Cardinal Borgia, going one day to the Vatican, in his 
 carriage, perceived him occupied in copying the fresco 
 which ornamented the facade of a palace. He ordered 
 his people to bring the little mendicant to him. 
 
 Ribera advanced to the carriage of his eminence. 
 
 " What were you doing there ? " asked the cardinal. 
 
 "I was drawing, your grace," replied Joseph. 
 
 " Then you are an artist ? " 
 
 "No, your eminence ; but I shall be. For that pur- 
 pose, I left my country and my home." 
 
PAINTERS. 205 
 
 " Really, you are a foreigner ? " 
 
 "I am a Spaniard, my lord." 
 
 " And you have neither friend or protector in Rome ? " 
 
 " Your lordship can see that but too well," replied the 
 young man, casting an ironical and pitiful look upon his 
 vesture. 
 
 " Will you show me your sketch ? " 
 
 "Here it is." 
 
 "It is very well done ! " cried the cardinal, after hav- 
 ing examined the rough drawing. " You have too much 
 talent to be abandoned ; I will give you a place in my 
 house." 
 
 The coach drove on, and a footman, approaching 
 Ribera, offered to take him to the Borgia palace. He 
 accepted with as much pride as joy, for he knew that 
 artists were well recognized and hospitably entertained 
 by such personages. 
 
 Ribera forgot only one thing ; that was, as he had him- 
 self said to the prelate, if he reckoned upon becoming a 
 celebrated artist, he was not one at the time. He hoped 
 to be respected ; he was only kindly treated : he imagined 
 that he should have a place in the drawing-room, and at 
 the table of the cardinal : he was only admitted to the 
 antechamber and the pantry. His pride, which had been 
 much raised, was cruelly wounded ; yet he had suffered 
 too much from actual want to renounce the unexpected 
 good fortune which he met. The cardinal advised him 
 to continue his studies, and left him the free disposition 
 
 
206 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 of his time. Nothing could have been better for the 
 young man than to take advantage of his peaceful posi- 
 tion by studying for his future career. It was what he 
 wished to do ; but he deferred taking his pencil for some 
 days, then weeks passed, and finally months, without 
 his going to work in earnest. 
 
 Ribera was more reflective than people generally are ; 
 he felt that he must contend with misery to sustain his 
 energy, and that his brilliant hopes would come to an 
 end if he slept in his borrowed opulence any longer. 
 
 " It shall not be said of me that I left my country to 
 be only a valet here I " cried he, after thinking of what 
 he was going to do. "I will put on my old clothes, and 
 resume my former life : rags are preferable to a livery. 
 Hurrah for my joyous misery ! I was sometimes hungry, 
 but always free." 
 
 His plan made, Ribera hastened to put it into execu- 
 tion. Leaving the palace Borgia, he resumed his vaga- 
 bond life ; but he no longer begged. He had learned to 
 know the city, and the resources it offered. A dealer 
 in second-hand wares bought a copy-book of his draw- 
 ings for a few small pieces of money, which sufficed for 
 Ribera's wants until he could gain a new supply. It 
 often happened that he disposed of his sketches without 
 the necessity of applying to the trader, who treated him 
 badly : some rich child, seeing them spread out, was 
 pleased, and bought of him, paying generously. 
 
 Fortune having favored him in this way several times, 
 
PAINTERS. 207 
 
 Ribera bought pencils and colors. He began to make 
 himself known, at least to the young people whose 
 position was not far above his own. Not knowing his 
 name, they called him Lo Spagnoletto, the little Span- 
 iard, by which name he is well known at the present 
 time. 
 
 By patience, labor, and economy Joseph was enabled 
 to dress himself decently, so that he could present him- 
 self at the studio of some master. The beautiful works 
 of Michael Angelo and of Raphael excited his enthu- 
 siasm ; but these great geniuses had passed away, and 
 among the painters then in repute, Caravaggio pleased 
 him best, by his bold and somewhat extravagant man- 
 ner. He went to Caravaggio, and showing what he 
 had done, with no other teacher than Nature, begged 
 him to receive him as a pupil. Caravaggio recognized 
 excellent qualities in Ribera's works. The young man, 
 filled with confidence by this benevolent reception, re- 
 lated his history : the character of the little Spaniard 
 pleased the painter, who was himself fond of adventures. 
 Ribera became his pupil, and was not the least enthusi- 
 astic of his partisans ; he understood the manner of the 
 painter at once, and imitated it so well that, when Cara- 
 vaggio died, it was impossible to distinguish the pictures 
 of the master from those of the little Spaniard. 
 
 Ribera was not twenty years old at that time : the 
 desire to see, and to study, which had brought him to 
 Rome was not in the least diminished, and he went to 
 
208 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Parma, where Correggio had left magnificent works. 
 The style of Correggio, of which the distinctive char- 
 acter is inimitable grace, deeply impressed Ribera, 
 habituated to the wild, savage energy of his deceased 
 professor. Seized with enthusiasm at the sight of these 
 immortal pictures, he was not content to admire them 
 only, but he copied them with such patient attention, 
 that he succeeded in reproducing their gentle beauty. 
 He recognized what was false and extravagant in the 
 style which Caravaggio had made fashionable ; he re- 
 tained this master's powerful touch, his vigorous color- 
 ing, and much of his fire and boldness ; but he tempered 
 these qualities, which with Caravaggio had degenerated 
 into faults, by something sweet, melancholy, and grace- 
 ful, borrowed from an intelligent and deep study of the 
 works of Correggio. 
 
 Happy in his success, he returned to Rome, not 
 doubting that his talent, which was bursting forth in a 
 new light, would procure him an honest fortune, if not 
 a brilliant reputation. He was deceived : his friends, 
 and the traders with whom he dealt before his departure, 
 were more surprised than satisfied with the progress 
 which he had made, and advised him to go back to 
 Caravaggio's method, which would be more useful to 
 him. 
 
 To be rid of their importunate solicitations, and, per- 
 haps, also forced by necessity, he went to Naples, still 
 rich in illusions, but so poor in fact, that, not having 
 
PAINTERS. 209 
 
 money to pay for his lodgings, he was obliged to leave 
 his cloak in pawn. The poverty, which he had escaped 
 for a while, was all the more difficult to bear when it 
 returned to assail him, because he was conscious of his 
 own power, and had the will to display it, if occasion 
 only offered. He went through the city, asking for 
 work : finally he met a picture-dealer, who, touched with 
 pity as much as others had been with fear, by the sight 
 of his destitution, furnished him with materials for paint- 
 ing, and promised to give him work, if he really had 
 talent. 
 
 This was all that Kibera asked. He commenced by 
 a portrait ; and the honest trader, perceiving that the 
 artist had not boasted falsely, paid him well, procured 
 him work, became his protector, and soon after gave him 
 his daughter in marriage. 
 
 The position of the Spaniard, so long poor and un- 
 known, finally changed. His father-in-law's fortune 
 and relations afforded the means of spreading his works, 
 which he carried to as high a degree of perfection as 
 possible. He was beginning to enjoy some reputation, 
 when a singular circumstance brought him to distinction. 
 Italian painters were in the habit of exhibiting the pic- 
 tures -which they had finished : this custom had a twofold 
 advantage ; it gave renown to the artist, and permitted 
 him to improve by the criticisms of the multitude. Ri- 
 bera was too eager for glory to miss showing his works. 
 One day, when he placed a Martyrdom of St. Bar- 
 14 
 
210 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 tholomew upon the balcony, the crowd became so com- 
 pact, that the viceroy, seeing the assembly from the 
 terrace of his palace, thought it was a riot, and ordered 
 his officers to go immediately and reestablish order. 
 
 On learning that what he supposed to be cries of sedi- 
 tion were only the enthusiastic acclamations of the peo- 
 ple, at the sight of a chef-d'oeuvre his surprise was 
 very great. He wished to see the picture and its 
 painter immediately. Eibera presented himself -at the 
 palace, where he received the warmest felicitations. 
 The viceroy partook of the emotion which had excited 
 the crowd. Recognizing a fellow-countryman in Ri- 
 bera (the vice-royalty of Naples depended on Spain 
 at that time) , he cordially extended his hand to him in 
 presence of the court, named him his painter, assured 
 him of a good pension, and required him to come and 
 establish himself in the palace. 
 
 The fortune of Ribera was made ; he received orders 
 from all parts : churches, convents, public buildings, 
 palaces, were all to be enriched by his productions. A 
 Descent from the Cross, and a Virgin, known as La 
 Madonna Bianca^ sealed his reputation. The king of 
 Spain, Philip IV., to whom the Viceroy sent some of 
 Ribera's pictures, loaded him with presents and honors. 
 Success did not weaken Ribera's love for work ; on the 
 contrary, he redoubled his zeal, in order to be equal to 
 his rapidly increasing fame. His ardor was so great, 
 that several times he passed a whole day at his easel, 
 
PAINTERS. 211 
 
 without eating or drinking. This assiduity affecting his 
 health, the viceroy made him promise to have a servant 
 always near him, whose business it should be to tell 
 him how many hours he had worked. 
 
 There was not a house in Naples more elegantly fitted 
 up than Ribera's : fortune had come to him with all 
 honors. It would have been difficult to recognize the 
 poor Spagnoletto, obliged to sell his sketches for a bit 
 of bread or a portion of macaroni, in the elegant 
 lord seen promenading with the viceroy, or convers- 
 ing with princes and dukes. But he never forgot how 
 much he had suffered ; his past misfortunes had left a 
 leaven of bitterness and hatred in his heart. Wonder- 
 ful to relate, the remembrance of his poverty and mis- 
 ery, instead of making him benevolent towards those in 
 a similar situation, instead of inspiring him with the de- 
 sire to come forward to assist them, rendered him cold 
 and hostile to the youthful talents which were seeking 
 to make their way in the world ! 
 
 It is almost impossible to understand this sentiment 
 of egotism and jealousy in a superior man ; yet it is 
 also too true that Ribera was the soul of that associa- 
 tion of artists who swore to interdict the entrance to 
 Naples to any foreign painter, and should any be so 
 bold as to brave this interdiction, to use all possible 
 means to drive them out. Annibal Carracci, after him 
 Jose'pin and Guido, all 'called to work upon the dome 
 of San Gennaio, were forced to renounce the hopes 
 
212 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 which their call to Naples had created. The pupils of 
 Ribera, and the partisans of his style, transformed into 
 bravi, threatened death to new comers, and thus as- 
 sisted their master in getting rid of them. 
 
 Domenichino alone persisted in remaining at Naples, 
 despite the advice of friends and the prayers of his 
 wife. We have spoken of the persecutions inflicted 
 upon him, and how he died. Ribera cannot be consid- 
 ered innocent of his death : it is a spot upon his glory, 
 and no one can praise his talent without censuring his 
 character. 
 
 Ribera gave brilliant entertainments, to which all the 
 Neapolitan aristocracy crowded. He was present him- 
 self, but very rarely entertained his guests. He was 
 seen walking alone in his garden, or remaining for 
 hours with his elbow upon a balcony, and no one 
 thought of interrupting his musings, because he was 
 meditating upon the works of the morrow in the midst 
 of the noble crowd attracted to his house by the love of 
 pleasure. It often happened that, struck by the features 
 of some gentleman who was presented to him, he drew 
 his portrait at once, without any person's taking excep- 
 tions at the freak of the artist. 
 
 The academy of St. Luke received Ribera among its 
 members, and the Pope, charmed with his uncommon 
 talents, sent him the decoration of the order of Christ. 
 His pictures, not less esteemed in Spain than in Italy, 
 were royally paid. It is said that two Spanish officers, 
 
PAINTERS. 213 
 
 going through Naples, wished to pay their respects to 
 him as a countryman. Ribera received them so kindly, 
 that they felt at liberty to ask him if he would not take 
 part in a speculation, which could not fail to be very 
 profitable. 
 
 "Trading and art are, in my opinion, incompatible," 
 said Ribera ; " but if you will be good enough to ex- 
 plain " 
 
 " We do not ask you, sir, to neglect your pencil," re- 
 plied one of the visitors : " we wish only that you would 
 associate yourself in a brilliant affair ; my friend and I 
 have studied alchemy for a long time, so that this ad- 
 mirable science has no more secrets for us. Unfortu- 
 nately, the experiments we have made have exhausted 
 our resources, and now we are obliged to give up the 
 wonderful results of our discovery for want of some 
 thousand crowns." 
 
 " So, gentlemen, you possess the faculty of making 
 gold?" 
 
 " We are ready to prove it to you ; and as soon as you 
 shall have consented to unite your interest with ours, no 
 king or prince can rival you in pomp or splendor." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to you for having thought to 
 give me a third in this magnificent affair," replied Ri- 
 bera, " but I also possess the secret of making gold." 
 
 " You, my lord ? Is it possible ? " 
 
 "You shall judge immediately. But allow me, I 
 beg of you, to give a few strokes to this picture, which 
 I was about finishing as you entered." 
 
214 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 The two officers seated themselves, curious to see 
 what Eibera promised to show them. In about an 
 hour he called a domestic, and told him to take the 
 picture which he had just finished to a certain dealer, 
 whom he mentioned. The valet obeyed, and returning 
 shortly after, handed his master the sum of four hundred 
 ducats. 
 
 "What did I tell you, gentlemen?" said Eibera, 
 pouring the contents of the rolls which he had received 
 upon the table ; " behold the gold which I make. Does 
 it appear to you to be of good quality ? " 
 
 The two officers hung their heads ; and understanding 
 that any new attempt would be useless, they went away, 
 filled with admiration for a talent which was well worth 
 the chimerical treasury of alchemy. 
 
 Eibera enjoyed much domestic felicity ; he loved his 
 wife tenderly, and two daughters, richly endowed by 
 nature, contributed to his happiness. A Spanish gentle- 
 man asked, and obtained the hand of the eldest : the 
 artist, not being willing to be separated from her, suc- 
 ceeded in getting the appointment of prime minister of 
 the viceroy for his son-in-law. The love of pleasure 
 and the pride of Eibera lost his second child. 
 
 The second Don John of Austria gave magnificent 
 fetes, to which only the high Neapolitan aristocracy were 
 admitted ; but as talent levels all social distinctions, the 
 great painter was invited. Proud of the incomparable 
 beauty of his daughter, he determined to bring her out 
 
PAINTERS. 215 
 
 on these occasions in a manner worthy of her, and ob- 
 tained permission to present her. The young girl was 
 thought to be charming, but no one was so enthusiastic 
 upon her grace and beauty as the prince himself. Af- 
 terwards he came very often to Ribera's studio, affecting 
 much esteem for his talent, and he knew how to flatter 
 his vanity so well, that the painter admitted him into his 
 family circle. 
 
 In this Ribera committed a great mistake, which he 
 was not slow to recognize. One day, he went into his 
 studio very anxious : his daughter had not come to give 
 him the morning kiss, and this forgetfulness grieved him, 
 for he idolized the child. Her dear image fell, unwit- 
 tingly, from his pencil into almost all his compositions. 
 His impatience disquieted him so much that he left his 
 work, and sought his daily kiss, without which his mind 
 was troubled, and his heart filled with anguish. He 
 went to his daughter's apartment, called her, asked for 
 her, and sought her in the house and gardens in vain. 
 The domestics fearing his anger, went away from him 
 trembling. It was not until after many .questions, or 
 rather ardent prayers, that he learned the terrible truth : 
 the prince, whom he believed to be his friend, had car- 
 ried her off! 
 
 Ribera, overwhelmed for an instant by this terrible 
 blow, soon recovered all his energy. He collected all 
 his ready money, seized his arms, and followed by a 
 devoted servant, left his house, swearing never to ree'n- 
 
216 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 ter it, until revenged for the odious treachery by which 
 the prince had rendered himself culpable towards him. 
 
 He was never seen again, and nothing was ever heard 
 of him or his servant. It is supposed that, despairing 
 of being able to punish his powerful adversary, and un- 
 willing to reappear, dishonored, in the city of Naples, 
 where he had been so proud and so glorious, he put an 
 end to his life by suicide. 
 
 We have spoken of the character of Ribera.* This 
 character, irascible, haughty, and disagreeable, is found 
 in his works. If he succeeded in painting beautiful 
 angels and sainted Madonnas, one feels that he was not 
 so much pleased as when he reproduced the terrible scenes 
 of the martyrdom of the defenders of the faith. His 
 genius is greatest when guided by his own inspiration : 
 he represents tortured members, faces contracted by suf- 
 ferings, or looks burning with rage. The Martyrdom 
 of St. Bartholomew, to which Ribera owed his sudden 
 elevation, and Prometheus upon Caucasus, are the two 
 masterpieces in this terrible style, which he liked best. 
 Besides these^two striking pictures, there are the Twelve 
 Apostles, and Jacob's Ladder, admirable pictures, which 
 are in Madrid; and an Adoration of the Shepherds, 
 which is in the Museum of the Louvre. 
 
 Although Ribera passed all his career as an artist, in 
 Italy, he never took any of the chefs-d'oeuvre of the 
 Roman school as models. We do not find in his pic- 
 tures the types of ideal purity, which we so much es- 
 
PAINTERS. 217 
 
 teemed in Perugino and Raphael. Ribera, by the at- 
 tention which he gave to reproducing nature in all her 
 variety, belongs to the Spanish school. His composi- 
 tions are distinguished by a wonderful skill in chiaro- 
 scuro, by a delicacy and vigor of pencilling, which few 
 artists have equalled, and finally, by the inimitable tal- 
 ent with which he represented bald heads, wrinkled 
 faces, and lame, old people. 
 
 Ribera was sixty-nine years old when he died, or 
 rather when he disappeared from Naples, for the time 
 of his death is uncertain. 
 
 VELASQUEZ. 
 
 Don Diego Velasquez de Siloa, born at Seville, in 
 1599, descended from one of the most noble and most 
 illustrious families of Portugal. His parents, anticipa- 
 ting some career worthy of his birth, gave him a bril- 
 liant education, and the young Diego improved in a 
 manner to surpass all these hopes. After finishing his 
 studies, he consecrated all his leisure to painting, until 
 old enough to choose a profession. While the young 
 gentlemen of his acquaintance were running after pleas- 
 ures, and dissipating their paternal fortunes in all sorts 
 of follies, Don Diego passed his days peacefully and 
 happily in solitude. 
 
 He had such a fancy for this occupation, that feeling 
 
218 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 he could not give it up, he begged his father to permit 
 him to be an artist, and pleaded his cause with so much 
 eloquence that he was permitted to enter into the school 
 of Francisco Herrera. 
 
 Francisco was an able teacher, but a hard, haughty 
 and fantastic man, to whose manners Diego found it 
 very difficult to accommodate himself. Velasquez, 
 brought up with all circumspection in the paternal home, 
 endowed with a gentle and kind character, educated 
 with distinguished manners and polite habits, suffered 
 more than others from the oddities and excitements 
 of Herrera. The love of painting enabled Velasquez 
 to be patient, for a time, but his resignation, far from 
 touching his master's feelings, only caused him to be 
 treated as a drudge. Velasquez left him, and entered 
 the school of Pacheco. 
 
 Pacheco, quite as good a teacher as Herrera, was a 
 man of the world. His amiable spirit, lively conversa- 
 tion, the ease and nobleness of his manners, had gained 
 him access to all the learned and illustrious personages 
 of Seville. He became very partial to Velasquez, and 
 taught him with great care. The pupil, filled with 
 gratitude, regarded him as a second father, their mutual 
 affection increased daily, and Pacheco promised to give 
 Velasquez his daughter in marriage. 
 
 The first works of Diego were distinguished by a sure 
 and easy pencil, and Pacheco foresaw that his pupil 
 would excel him ; however, Velasquez failed in that 
 
PAINTERS. 219 
 
 which promptly develops the sentiment of the beautiful 
 in artists : he had seen none of the immortal compo- 
 sitions, the glory and riches of Italy. Working assidu- 
 ously, he carefully studied, but he did not know how 
 much genius can add to beauty. Some Italian and 
 Flemish painters coming to Seville, taught him. See- 
 ing that he had much to learn, Velasquez bade adieu to 
 his kind teacher, now become his best friend, and de- 
 parted for Madrid. 
 
 He was then twenty-three years old, and was thought 
 to be a painter of the first order. He was recommended, 
 by his family, to Don Juan de Fonseca, who held a 
 position at court. This gentleman received Velasquez 
 as a relative, and presented him to Philip IV. The 
 king had heard of the talent of the young artist ; he re- 
 ceived him kindly, and ordered his portrait. 
 
 Velasquez, who was very skilful in portrait painting, 
 commenced, full of hope, and the success proved that he 
 was not too much prejudiced in favor of his own talent. 
 Philip was greatly pleased with this portrait, and or- 
 dered all the pictures which had been previously made 
 of him to be destroyed, and named Velasquez his first 
 painter. 
 
 This position, which Diego was far from expecting, 
 did not make him forget that he had come to Madrid 
 for the purpose of instruction. There were no good 
 masters in this capital ; but some beautiful pictures of 
 the best Italian artists revealed the mysteries of the art 
 
220 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 to Velasquez. By studying them with great attention, 
 he modified his own manner, and made rapid progress. 
 Some time after his arrival in Madrid, the king offered 
 a prize for the best painting, and the subject to be treat- 
 ed was the expulsion of the Moors from the Peninsula. 
 Velasquez gained the prize, and the king, as happy as 
 himself, gave him new honors at court. 
 
 Diego gained favor daily. Philip IV., subject to 
 terrible fits of melancholy, had need of distraction of 
 mind ; and as he prided himself upon being an artist, it 
 was by artists that he hoped to be relieved from the 
 cruel cares which weighed upon his spirit. The draw- 
 ings of Velasquez, full of roguery and wit, often made 
 the king laugh ; and the verses of Calderon helped to 
 dissipate his sad humors. The painter and the poet 
 lived in great intimacy with the monarch, and both pos- 
 sessed much influence over him. A caricature by Ve- 
 lasquez, a satire of Calderon, sufficed to deprive a favor- 
 ite of the good graces of the king, or to frustrate projects 
 of the ministers ; so that these two artists had numer- 
 ous courtiers, and more enemies. Velasquez, in the 
 midst of the intrigues of the court, remained true to art 
 and his conscience. ' He praised only what he believed 
 to be just, good, and useful to the prosperity of his coun- 
 try, and criticised what he believed to be iniquitous or 
 hurtful. He remained what he had been before his eleva- 
 tion, honest, modest, benevolent, industrious, accessi- 
 ble to all who needed encouragement or assistance. 
 
PAINTERS. 221 
 
 Velasquez had been in Madrid six years, when he 
 heard that the king of England had chosen the cel- 
 ebrated painter Rubens as his ambassador to the court 
 of Spain. The news created quite a sensation at the 
 court, and was particularly agreeable to Velasquez, who 
 knew Rubens by his works. Rubens, on his part, had 
 heard of the eminent talent of Velasquez ; they esteemed 
 and admired each other before meeting, and when they 
 met they loved each other. They spent all the time 
 which was not needed in the service of their respective 
 masters, together. Velasquez showed Rubens the paint- 
 ings in Madrid and the Escurial, and Rubens told Ve- 
 lasquez all that he had seen in Venice, Florence, and 
 Rome. His warm and enthusiastic descriptions over- 
 powered the Spaniard, who pictured to himself the sub- 
 lime frescoes of Michael Angelo, the admirable pictures 
 of Raphael, of Titian, and of Leonardo da Vinci. But 
 there came a moment when these descriptions, exact and 
 colored as they were, no longer sufficed ; an ardent de- 
 sire to visit the country of the fine arts took possession 
 of his soul ; he lost his sleep, his appetite, gayety, and 
 even his love of work. 
 
 One morning Velasquez, who could go to the king 
 at all times, seeing him more lively than usual, threw 
 himself at his feet, and begged leave of absence for 
 some months. Hearing this, Philip cried out, and ac- 
 cused the painter of ingratitude. After he had exhausted 
 his complaints and grievances, he desired to be informed 
 of the motive of this absence. 
 
222 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 "I wish, sire, to be worthy of the title of first painter 
 to your majesty, a title, which the king, my master, has 
 deigned to bestow upon me, consulting rather his indul- 
 gence than my talent . Sire , 1 wish to visit Italy : one cannot 
 be a great artist without studying the wonders which the 
 great masters, Michael Angelo and Raphael, have left." 
 
 " Say rather that you wish to leave me, Velasquez, 
 because a painter like you has nothing to desire, not 
 even from the illustrious dead whom you mention ; and 
 if you wish to give me a better opinion of your heart, 
 upon which I have counted as that of a friend, never 
 speak to me again of this voyage." 
 
 Velasquez understood that all his urgency would be 
 in vain, and resolved to wait until some unforeseen cir- 
 cumstance should permit him again to ask leave of 
 absence. 
 
 Every time that the king, surprised by some work of 
 his painter, or grateful for the distraction which the 
 lively, and biting pencil of Velasquez procured him, ex- 
 pressed a desire to recompense him, the, artist took the 
 opportunity to speak of his favorite dream, a voyage to 
 Italy. Finally, this dream threatening to become a 
 fixed idea, Philip IV., seeing that Don Diego was los- 
 ing his good humor and his sallies of raillery, consented 
 to his departure, on condition that he should spend no 
 more time than was absolutely necessary to see the chefs- 
 d'ceuvre which he was so anxious to admire. 
 
 Velasquez received this permission with delight ; be- 
 
PAINTERS. 223 
 
 sides, he was anxious to enjoy a little of that liberty, of 
 which those who live near kings are deprived : it seemed 
 to him a great pleasure not to be the favorite of Philip 
 IV., but a simple artist, travelling as he pleased, and 
 stopping whenever he found a beautiful site to paint or 
 a souvenir to evoke. However, he was disappointed in 
 the pleasure of travelling incognito : the king, unwilling 
 that his painter should go like an ordinary traveller, 
 gave him letters of recommendation, decorations, and 
 titles, with a numerous and brilliant suite. 
 
 At Venice, the ambassador of Spain received him 
 with every mark of distinction ; and desiring to flatter 
 Philip IV. by honoring his painter, he gave Velasquez 
 a brilliant entertainment, to which all the Venetian no- 
 bility were invited. When these festivities were ended, 
 Diego commenced to study. The beautiful works of 
 Giorgione, of Titian, of Tintoretto, of Paul Veronese, 
 filled him with enthusiasm. Notwithstanding the king's 
 recommendation to make haste, he would, perhaps, have 
 spent several years in Venice, had he not been forced to 
 leave the city by the war, about the succession of Man- 
 tua, which broke out between France and Spain. 
 
 At Eome, Pope Urban VIII. received him as one of 
 the first artists of the century. Velasquez saw that 
 Rubens had not exaggerated in boasting of the wonders 
 which the capital of the Christian world contained. It 
 would ' be impossible to express the admiration with 
 which Michael Angelo and Raphael inspired him. He 
 
224 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 studied them with the closest attention, and not satisfied 
 with studying them, he copied many of Raphael's pic- 
 tures, and a part of the immortal fresco of The Last 
 Judgment. Having modified his style by this conscien- 
 tious study, he painted two pictures, which he intended 
 to present to the king on his return to Spain. He re- 
 ceived an order to return immediately to Madrid, from 
 Philip IV., who could not accustom himself to his ab- 
 sence ; which obliged him to finish the two pictures, 
 the Forges of Vulcan, and the Tunic of Joseph, in 
 great haste. But he would not think of leaving Italy 
 without seeing Naples, where Ribera, his fellow-country- 
 man, was then enjoying great reputation. The two 
 artists, who were already acquainted with each other's 
 works, passed several days together : then Velasquez, 
 fearing that a longer stay would irritate the king, his 
 master, returned to Spain. 
 
 Philip was too happy to see him to make any re- 
 proaches. He took great pleasure in listening to the 
 recital of the travels of his painter, and hearing his 
 enthusiastic descriptions of the chefs-d'oeuvre which he 
 regretted having left so soon. The two pictures which 
 Velasquez painted at Rome made the king forget the 
 ennui he had felt during the absence of his favorite : he 
 overwhelmed him with felicitations and rich presents. 
 The court as well as the monarch applauded the flight 
 which the fine talent of Velasquez had taken, and it was 
 but just. 
 
PAINTERS. 225 
 
 This success made him redouble his efforts. A noble 
 emulation had taken possession of his heart. The beauti- 
 ful works which he had seen inspired him with the de- 
 sire of greater improvement, and he succeeded. He 
 almost never left his studio. Philip, who delighted to 
 be with him, was in the habit of going thither, instead 
 of sending for him, as he formerly did. The monarch 
 forgot the cares of royalty during the hours which they 
 passed pleasantly conversing upon the arts. 
 
 For some years Philip had been talking of founding 
 an academy of painting in Madrid, and the subject was 
 often discussed in his conversations with Velasquez. 
 The painter, inspired by the love of art, and perhaps 
 some little egotism, urged him to carry out his plan. 
 To endow an academy of painting in Spain, it would 
 be necessary to collect a certain number of antique mar- 
 bles, of ancient and modern pictures, and of objects of 
 art of all kinds, and Velasquez had no doubt that the king 
 would choose him to select them ; in which case a second 
 voyage to Italy would be necessary, and he, under pre- 
 text of the exigence of his mission, would be able to 
 prolong his sojourn more than he had ventured to do the 
 first time. The preoccupations of politics caused the 
 postponement of the foundation of this establishment. 
 Philip was obliged to remember that his duty was that 
 of a king, and not of an artist, so that seventeen years 
 passed away before Velasquez could make another voyage 
 to Italy. The most remarkable deeds of the reign of 
 15 
 
226 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Philip IV. were represented in the pictures which Velas- 
 quez painted during these seventeen years. The uncom- 
 mon talents of the artist procured him signal favors from 
 the king. 
 
 One of the most beautiful pictures which the artist 
 painted at this time is that which represents the family 
 of his sovereign. While he was occupied on this pic- 
 ture, the visits of Philip to his studio were more frequent 
 than ever; he never tired of admiring the astonishing 
 facility with which those beautiful and noble figures, so 
 true to life, were growing under the pencil of Don 
 Diego. The king, wishing to render homage to the 
 genius of him whom he called his friend, desired him to 
 paint himself in the picture. When the picture was fin- 
 ished he showed it to the king, who warmly approved it. 
 
 "So," said Velasquez, "your majesty finds nothing 
 wanting to the picture ? " 
 
 " Have I said so ? " asked the king, smiling. 
 
 "No, sire ; but your majesty has deigned to praise my 
 work in such a manner, that, if I did not know the in- 
 dulgence of the king, I should flatter myself that I was 
 leaving an irreproachable picture to posterity." 
 
 "Be assured, friend Velasquez, that I am not indul- 
 gent, but just. Therefore, at the risk of somewhat 
 humiliating your pride as an artist, I beg you to pass 
 me your pallet and brush, that I may remedy what is 
 wanting in your work." 
 
 Velasquez was unable to dissemble a certain appre- 
 
PAINTERS. 227 
 
 hension : although the king painted tolerably well, he 
 felt that it would be a great pity to spoil his magnificent 
 portraits. Philip easily imagined what was passing in 
 Diego's mind, but he took no notice of it, and, advan- 
 cing towards the picture, he painted th^ Cross of St. 
 James near those of the other orders with which the 
 breast of the artist was already decorated. Velasquez, 
 penetrated with gratitude, fell on his knees before him ; 
 Philip, raising him, embraced him, and said, 
 
 "Is it not a great honor for the king of Spain to 
 have added the finishing stroke to the painting of 
 Velasquez?" 
 
 But to return to the foundation of the academy of 
 painting. Philip was beginning to grow old, and, fear- 
 ing that death should come upon him before he had 
 given some brilliant evidence of his royal protection of 
 the arts, finally sent Velasquez to Rome. 
 
 Pope Innocent X. received him with the greatest 
 favor, and begged him to paint his portrait. The Span- 
 ish painter complied with the flattering demand. The 
 public were so much excited by the sight of this picture 
 that it was decided to carry it in procession through the 
 streets of Eome, and afterwards to crown it. Velasquez 
 was not insensible to such honors. 
 
 Philip's envoy ordered twelve pictures, from twelve 
 of the most celebrated painters of the epoch : these he 
 was to add to those of the ancient masters, which he had 
 procured at great expense ; he bought antique marbles, 
 
228 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 statues of the preceding century, and being authorized 
 by the king of Spain to spare nothing, that the collec- 
 tion might be worthy of Philip IV. and of Velasquez, 
 he succeeded in obtaining a number of very precious 
 works. 
 
 He returned to Madrid with his treasures ; and the 
 monarch was so much pleased with the manner in which 
 he had executed his commissions, that he appointed him 
 marshal. With all his riches and honors, he was still 
 modest and industrious. The more he was praised, the 
 more desirous he was to deserve it. His chief pleasure 
 was in the cultivation of his art, and he would have gone 
 from court rather than sacrifice the pleasures afforded 
 by his pencil to the vexatious trials of ambition. 
 
 Although he excelled in portrait-painting, he knew 
 how to put much grandeur and poetry into his historical 
 compositions, truth and simplicity into his landscapes, 
 grace and sweetness, beyond all expression, into his small 
 interior scenes ; finally, he painted animals, flowers, and 
 fruits as a man for whom Nature had no secrets. Great 
 purity in drawing, a pencil firm, yet light, a good tone 
 of color, perfect knowledge of chiaro-scuro and of per- 
 spective, distinguish all his works. 
 
 Velasquez continued to labor during ten years after 
 his return from Italy ; and although his health was sen- 
 sibly enfeebled, he could not consent to give up his be- 
 loved occupation. His talent, far from diminishing, 
 seemed to gain strength daily ; his hand was always 
 
PAINTERS. 229 
 
 sure, his imagination full of the generous ardor of 
 youth ; age brought him a more profound knowledge of 
 the mysteries of art, of study, and of experience. 
 
 Philip flattered himself that his beloved artist, although 
 quite old, would live many years. In the' fear of afflict- 
 ing Velasquez, he insisted less upon the necessity of his 
 suspending his labors than he would have done had he 
 been counselled by his affection alone. 
 
 Meanwhile Cardinal Mazarin having concluded the 
 negotiations undertaken with Spain for the marriage of 
 Louis XI Y. , Philip IV. promised to conduct his daughter, 
 Maria Theresa, who was to be queen of France, to the 
 frontier. Louis, in all the splendor of youth and glory, 
 followed by a numerous and brilliant court, came to 
 Irun to meet his affianced bride. Velasquez left Madrid 
 in company with Philip : in his quality of marshal, 
 obliged to prepare lodgings for the court when travel- 
 ling, he was ordered to arrange the pavilion where the 
 two monarchs were to meet, and to regulate all the cere- 
 monies of the interview in the Isle of Pheasants. The 
 cares of this journey, the exertion he was compelled to 
 make, in order to see that nothing should be wanting in 
 the pomp displayed by the court of Spain upon this 
 solemn occasion, hastened the progress of his disease. 
 He was taken back to Madrid at the end of the. month 
 of March, 1660, and died on the 7th of the following 
 August, at the age of sixfy-one years. 
 
 The king made a magnificent funeral, which was 
 
230 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 attended by the court and the whole city of Madrid. He 
 was interred in the church of San Juan, where his 
 widow, the daughter of his old master, Francisco Pa- 
 checo, joined him a few days after. 
 
 MUEILLO. 
 
 The child who became the most celebrated painter 
 of Spain was born the 1st of January, 1618, in 
 one of the poorest houses of Seville. His family 
 name was Murillo, and he was baptized Bartholo- 
 mew Esteban. His childhood passed in privations and 
 misery, and nothing announced the brilliant career 
 reserved for him. At first his parents scarcely thought 
 of having him learn to read and write ; but when he 
 commenced, he manifested so much intelligence and 
 good will, that they were astonished at the progress 
 which he made, and began to hope that some day the 
 little Bartholomew would rise above the miserable con- 
 dition in which their lot had been cast. 
 
 His mother often thought of it ; and the more the 
 good qualities of her son developed, the more she was 
 fixed in her hopes. She had a brother, named Juan del 
 Castillo, who was a painter, and who, though he pos- 
 sessed neither fortune nor reputation, was in a brilliant 
 position compared with that of Murillo. She went to 
 this brother, told him of the excellent character of her 
 
PAINTERS. 231 
 
 son, and his aptitude for learning, and begged him to 
 give him some instruction. Juan did not participate in 
 the hopes of his sister, yet he consented to teach his 
 nephew the elements of his art. 
 
 When Murillo had a pencil in his hand, and a good 
 sheet of paper at his disposition, treasures which he 
 had for a long time coveted, he was happier than a 
 king, and, proud of this happiness, he also began to 
 think of a future career. He saw himself a painter, like 
 his uncle ; he had a studio ornamented with fine pictures, 
 a neat and pretty little room, and money, which, while 
 weeping with joy, he poured into the lap of his good 
 mother. Now, in order to realize this fine dream, it 
 was necessary to work diligently ; the child did not lose 
 an instant : very soon Juan del Castillo recognized his 
 powers. 
 
 Juan was a very bad colorist, but he drew tolerably 
 well, so that his instruction was useful to Bartholomew. 
 Unfortunately, he decided to leave Seville, and establish 
 himself in Cadiz. Murillo would gladly have gone with 
 him ; but his parents were unable to pay his board, and 
 Castillo could not afford to make such an addition to 
 his expenses. His departure was a grievous sacrifice to 
 Bartholomew, for all the poor child's brilliant illusions 
 vanished with his master. Then the time which he had 
 spent with Castillo was a twofold loss ; for if Murillo 
 had not hoped to become an artist, he would have been 
 apprenticed to some artisan, and now that he was large 
 
232 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 and strong, he would be able to earn his living. What 
 was to be done ? Such was the question which Barthol- 
 omew put to himself. 
 
 He could not think of going home to his parents, 
 whose labor scarcely sufficed for their restricted wants. 
 Should he give up painting, and learn a trade? Be- 
 sides the chagrin which he felt in renouncing the career 
 he had chosen, he knew that several years must pass 
 before he could depend upon his salary. Would it not 
 be better for him to try to continue the study of paint- 
 ing alone? He felt no doubt of it, for on that de- 
 pended his success in life. Yet his poverty presented 
 an almost insurmountable obstacle. He needed time 
 and models for study ; he had neither, and the necessity 
 of procuring daily bread would not allow him to choose 
 his labor. 
 
 The merchants who fitted out galleons for America 
 were buying great quantities of pictures of the Virgin, 
 for which they received good prices from the newly-con- 
 verted Christians of Mexico, Peru, and Guadaloupe. 
 These pictures, roughly painted, were called on that ac- 
 count Notre Dame de la Guadaloupe, and were bought 
 by the merchants at a very low price. Murillo, for 
 want of something better, daubed these Madonnas, and 
 thus saved himself from starving. 
 
 He had been pursuing this business for some time, 
 when a renowned painter, Pedro de Moya, arrived at 
 Seville. Pedro had studied with Van Dyck, and Bar- 
 
PAINTERS. 233 
 
 tholomew, who had never seen any more beautiful pic- 
 tures than those painted by his uncle, Juan del Castillo, 
 was filled with admiration at sight of the paintings of the 
 new comer. He was ashamed of his own work, and 
 determined to imitate, as far as possible, Pedro de Moya. 
 Aided by his own genius, the study of these paintings 
 improved him very much, and his pictures of Notre 
 Dame were quite unlike those which he had previously 
 painted. 
 
 Murillo, emboldened by his success, presented him- 
 self to Pedro, with one of his pictures in his hand, and 
 begged the artist to assist him with his advice. Pedro 
 examined the picture painted by the young man, gave 
 him some encouragement, and permission to frequent his 
 studio. The joy of Murillo was of short duration : he 
 lost his second master as he had lost the first. Pedro 
 de Moya remained in Seville only a few months, and 
 Bartholomew was almost discouraged at his departure. 
 
 What he had seen at Pedro's revealed art to him, so 
 that it became impossible for him to continue painting 
 mechanically, as he had heretofore done. In the midst 
 of the grief and discouragement of the poor young man, 
 an idea, the realization of which seemed next to impos- 
 sible, occurred to him, and which smiled at his despair. 
 Murillo said to himself, 
 
 "The study of the chefs-d'oeuvre which are in Italy 
 would make me as able an artist as Pedro de Moya. I 
 will go to Italy, even if I have to beg my way there." 
 
234 THE PRINCES OF AKT. 
 
 But as begging was repugnant to his pride, unless 
 absolutely forced to it, he set himself to work, day and 
 night, with feverish ardor, and in a few weeks made so 
 many Madonnas, Jesuses, and male and female saints, 
 that he realized a considerable sum from the sale of them. 
 
 As soon as he found himself rich enough to go to 
 Madrid, he set out on foot, eating only bread, and 
 drinking water, until he arrived at the capital of Spain. 
 There the paintings of Velasquez excited his admiration 
 much more than those of Pedro de Moya, and he re- 
 mained to study them while his funds lasted. When he 
 had spent his last piece of money, he sold the copies 
 which he had tried to make from the pictures of Velas- 
 quez, to a picture-dealer, and being secure of the means 
 of living for a few days, resumed his studies. 
 
 The great desire of Murillo was, to see the author of 
 those beautiful compositions : it seemed to him that one 
 endowed with such a genius was more than a man. 
 He inquired where it would be possible to meet him : 
 he learned that the next day the court would be going 
 to Aranjuez, and he would only have to be where the 
 royal cortege should pass, to see the painter of Philip 
 IV. Murillo was careful not to fail ; and touched by 
 the sweet and benevolent face of Velasquez, as much as 
 he had been by his talent, he resolved to try to get an 
 opportunity to speak with him. Eight days of unre- 
 mitting labor enabled him to remedy the tattered con- 
 dition of his garments, and no sooner had Velasquez 
 
PAINTERS. 235 
 
 returned to Madrid, than Murillo presented himself at 
 the palace, and depending upon his title of Sevillian 
 painter, he asked admission to the great artist. 
 
 Velasquez was always accessible to every one, not- 
 withstanding his elevated position : he ordered the un- 
 known visitor to be introduced into his studio. Murillo 
 fell into a sort of ecstasy at sight of all the artistic 
 riches which met his view ; a celestial ray seemed to 
 illuminate his countenance, and tears of joy flowed from 
 his eyes. He had forgotten the artist in the art. Mean- 
 while Velasquez examined the intelligent face of the 
 young man, his air of frankness, goodness, and resolu- 
 tion, and he felt interested in, and disposed to be useful 
 to him. When the first emotions of Murillo had sub- 
 sided a little, the painter of the king, seeing him con- 
 fused and speechless, came to his aid. 
 
 "You are a painter, I see, my young fellow-country- 
 man," he said to him. 
 
 "If I had believed I was, I shall be disabused, since 
 I have seen your works, sir," replied Murillo. " Alas, 
 no, I am not a painter, but I would be one, if God 
 gave me a protector." 
 
 "Explain yourself, my friend," said Velasquez. 
 
 Murillo then related his life, his hope twice de- 
 stroyed, his desire to go to Kome, and the cruel poverty 
 which deprived him of the realization of this desire. 
 Velasquez listened with interest ; and although he had 
 never had to contend against misery, he understood the 
 griefs of such a contest. 
 
236 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 " Show me some of your works," said he to him, 
 " and if Heaven has destined you, as I believe, to be- 
 come an artist, you will find in me the protector you 
 are wishing for." 
 
 Murillo kissed the hand of the illustrious master, and 
 blushing to bring forth his poor attempts in the midst 
 of so many chefs-d'oeuvre, he presented a little Ma- 
 donna. 
 
 Murillo underwent the most terrible anguish during 
 the few moments which Velasquez took to study the 
 picture : he dared not interrogate the face of his judge, 
 and awaited his doom with a trembling heart. 
 
 " This rough sketch predicts your future welfare," 
 said Velasquez, at last. "Courage, my friend, and a 
 day will come when Seville will be proud of you." 
 
 Murillo, suffocated with joy, fell on his knees before 
 him who predicted his glory. Velasquez raised him, 
 and pressed him to his bosom, without the young man's 
 finding a word to express his happiness and his grati- 
 tude. 
 
 " What is your name? " asked Velasquez. 
 
 "Murillo," replied the stranger; "and if ever your 
 grace needs some one to die for you, my life is at your 
 disposition." 
 
 "Thank you, my child," said Velasquez ; I believe 
 in your gratitude and devotion, but, thanks to God, I 
 hope never to claim such a proof of it. You will not 
 die for me, Murillo ; you will live for art. And now, 
 shall I advise you ? " 
 
PAINTERS. 237 
 
 " I listen, my lord." 
 
 "Do not go to Italy. Madrid offers you, for some 
 years at least, all that you can ask in Rome. The 
 royal castles, the Escurial, this palace, and my studio, 
 contain a sufficiently large number of pictures from dif- 
 ferent masters ; all these are open to you. Study them, 
 and when you have succeeded in gaining a name, and 
 have created some resources, it will be easier and more 
 advantageous to you to undertake the journey to Rome. 
 Then I shall be able to recommend you to some cele- 
 brated artists, whose acquaintance I made when I 
 visited that beautiful country : they will receive you as 
 a brother, while at present I cannot give you an intro- 
 duction to them." 
 
 " What kindness, my lord ! Yes, I shall follow your 
 advice, and after a few years I hope you will have no 
 cause to blush for the noble protection you deign to 
 grant me." 
 
 The next morning, Murillo received permission to 
 enter wherever he found fine models to copy. Titian, 
 Paul Veronese, Rubens, Van Dyck, were the most seduc- 
 tive to him, and became his favorite masters. His genius 
 developed rapidly, and Velasquez, charmed with having 
 discovered a talent of the first order in his rough 
 sketches, took pleasure in teaching all the secrets of his 
 art to his young protege*. Thanks to these lessons, and 
 his assiduous industry, Murillo, who had commenced by 
 ardently wishing to equal Juan del Castillo, and after- 
 
238 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 wards aspired to attain to Pedro de Moya, had nothing 
 to desire from Velasquez himself. 
 
 He could have entered into competition with his bene- 
 factor, and courted royal favor, but, influenced by grate- 
 ful feelings towards Velasquez, he left Madrid to return 
 to Seville. His- fellow-citizens, who had known him as 
 a poor and unskilful youth, paid no attention to his re- 
 turn ; he received no orders, excepting for three pictures 
 for the cloister of St. Francis pictures which the good 
 fathers, having small means, could not afford to order 
 from any artist of renown. But Murillo, habituated 
 to living poorly, and realizing, besides, how important it 
 was to make himself known, was not difficult about the 
 conditions of payment, and set himself to work. When 
 the three pictures were finished, his success far exceeded 
 his expectations. The chapel of the Franciscans was 
 besieged, so to say, for several weeks; everybody was 
 anxious to see the wonderful pictures, and those who had 
 seen wished to see again. 
 
 The reputation of Murillo was made. He received 
 orders from all parts of the country, and two years after 
 his return to Seville his name had become so great that 
 he could marry a noble and rich lady, Dona Beatrix de 
 Cabrera, of Sotomayor. Exempt from ambition, and 
 preferring independence to the honors with which he had 
 seen Velasquez surrounded, Murillo settled himself in 
 Seville ; and if he did not give up the idea of going to 
 Italy, his passion for work prevented his accomplishing 
 the dream of his youth. 
 
PAINTERS. 239 
 
 Endowed with a brilliant and fruitful imagination, 
 with a tender and poetic soul, he preferred those sacred 
 subjects, which permit art to take its flight into in- 
 finite space , to all others. No painter has created more 
 admirable Virgins, nor given such divine beauty to his 
 Christs and his Angels. He comes nearer the Italian 
 school than any other Spanish master. The artists of 
 this school are, for the most part at least, designated by 
 the name of ideal painters, because they have sought 
 beauty even beyond reality, and have often left the care 
 of divining their thoughts to the understanding of their 
 admirers. The Spanish painters, on the contrary, are 
 known by the name of naturalists, because they have 
 tried to be true, and have expressed all their ideas, 
 without leaving anything for the spectator to interpret. 
 Eibera and Velasquez are first among the naturalists. 
 Velasquez reproduced Nature with more naivete* and 
 charm than Kibera, but Ribera painted her with more 
 force and power. Although Murillo has put as much 
 poetry and ideal as the Italian artists into his works, he 
 had nevertheless remained faithful to the traditions of the 
 Spanish school, inasmuch as there is nothing understood 
 in his pictures. Thus, when he wishes to represent a 
 saint in ecstasy, he is not satisfied with giving to the 
 physiognomy of the saint the expression which it ought 
 to have ; he shows the divine spectacle, which, visible to 
 his eyes for an instant, sheds upon his features a ray of 
 infinite beatitude, the heavens open, Christ is in his glory, 
 and the angels surround the throne of the Eternal. 
 
240 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Murillo's genius was most brilliant during the period 
 which preceded his death. He had all the fresh poetry 
 of his youth at the age of sixty years, and his pencil 
 appeared to obey his noble inspirations more faithfully 
 than ever. Among the great number of works which 
 Murillo produced, the most celebrated belong to his old 
 age. In 1674 he finished his pictures for the Charity 
 Hospital, vast compositions, among which are the Mul- 
 tiplication of Bread, Moses striking the Rock, Abra- 
 ham prostrated before the three Angels, Return of the 
 Prodigal Son, and a St. Elizabeth of Hungary, which 
 is considered one of the most precious chefs-d'oeuvre of 
 painting. 
 
 In the interval between 1674 and his death he paint- 
 ed twenty-three large pictures for the convent of the 
 Capuchins ; a Child Jesus distributing Bread to the 
 Poor, and the Ecstasy of St. Antonio da Padua, 
 which are still to be seen in one of the chapels of the 
 cathedral of Seville. 
 
 Murillo, invited to Cadiz to decorate the grand altar 
 of the Capuchins, went there in 1681, and commenced 
 the Mystic Marriage of St. Catherine. This beautiful 
 composition would have added to his glory, if he had 
 had the pleasure of finishing it. While working, he fell 
 from the scaffold and injured himself severely. At his 
 request, he was immediately taken back to Seville. 
 All the care by which he was surrounded only served 
 to prolong his sufferings, and he expired on the 3d of 
 April, 1682, at the age of sixty-four years. 
 
^. Jr * ^ V* * 
 
 PAINTERS. 241 
 
 His fellow-citizens, who had learned to know and to 
 love him, bitterly bewailed his loss. They buried him 
 in the church of Santa-Cruz, in a chapel of which he 
 was very fond, on account of a picture by Pietro de 
 Champagne, which he had 'many times admired during 
 his infancy and youth. The subject was a Descent from 
 the Cross. One day Murillo remained so long after 
 mass, contemplating the picture, that it was time to 
 close the doors of the church. The sacristan gave notice 
 to the worshippers to retire, but the young man heard 
 nothing ; without doubt he would have remained before 
 the altar all night, as he had all day, without observing 
 that the light of a candle had taken the place of that of 
 the sun, if the sacristan, seeing him standing motion- 
 less and immovable, had not come to him, and asked 
 " why he did not go." 
 
 "I am waiting," answered the youth, "until the holy 
 people have brought our Savior down from the cross." 
 
 The sacristan thought he was crazy, and shrugging 
 his shoulders, dismissed him. 
 
 Three different manners are distinguishable in Mu- 
 rillo's works ; they are what the Spaniards call cold, 
 warm, and misty ; he has succeeded equally well in all 
 three. A smooth coloring, a light and gentle pencil, 
 skins full of life and freshness, good understanding of 
 chiaro-scuro , a true and piquant manner, and an irresis- 
 tible charm, render the productions of this artist very 
 precious. His principal works are at Seville ; but the 
 16 
 
242 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Museum of the Louvre possesses a great number of the 
 paintings of this master, so that one can render him jus- 
 tice without going to Spain. Among the paintings 
 most admired, are a Holy Family , an Assumption, 
 and a magnificent Conception of the Virgin, bought 
 from the heirs of Marshal Soult for five hundred and 
 eighty-six thousand francs. 
 
 The life of Murillo was as peaceful and modest as 
 that of Velasquez had been agitated and splendid ; a 
 friend of quiet and labor, he was contented with his 
 fate, and rendered himself doubly happy by doing good 
 to others. The qualities of his heart equalled his talent, 
 and not forgetting the misery of his childhood, the griefs 
 and cares of his youth, his greatest pleasure was to give 
 to the poor a part of the riches which he owed to his 
 genius, and to open the path to glory for artists with- 
 out fortune. 
 
 Seville is indebted to him for an Academy of Design, 
 of which he was appointed director, and where he 
 wished to be the first teacher. As a professor, his zeal, 
 patience, and kindness won all hearts. His pupils 
 loved and venerated him as a father ; he had a great 
 number, of whom the most distinguished are Antolinez, 
 Villavicencio, Osorio, and Tobar, who, unable to attain 
 the reputation of their master, endeavored, at least, to 
 follow in his footsteps. 
 
 Murillo had two sons, whom he wished to become 
 artists. Gabriel, the elder, preferred commerce to 
 
PAINTERS. 243 
 
 painting, and went to America to acquire wealth. 
 Gaspard remained with his father, and became his pupil ; 
 but Murillo, seeing that nature had not endowed hirn 
 with a taste for art, did not encourage him to apply 
 himself to painting, but left him at liberty to enter the 
 ecclesiastical state. 
 
 In the space of thirty years Spain brought forth three 
 great geniuses, Ribera, Velasquez, and Murillo, with- 
 out speaking of Alonzo Cano, who distinguished him- 
 self as a sculptor, painter, and architect. Spain pro- 
 duced no more celebrated painters after these. 
 
 RUBENS. 
 
 Peter Paul Rubens was born at Cologne, June 29, 
 1577. His family was originally from Styria, and at- 
 tached to the house of the Emperor Charles V. Bar- 
 tholomew Rubens, his ancestor, went to Flanders, at 
 the coronation of the emperor, which took place at Aix- 
 la-Chapelle, where he married, and obtained permission 
 to give up his position at the court, in order to establish 
 himself in his wife's family. 
 
 John Rubens, father of the great artist, was born 
 from this union ; he also married a young girl of Ant- 
 werp, by the name of Marie Pipeling. John Rubens 
 was much esteemed in Antwerp ; he was elected coun- 
 cillor of the Senate, which office he held six years. 
 
244 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Later he settled in Cologne. Having lost considerable 
 property, he became a silversmith, and bought the house 
 in which Marie de Medici afterwards died. 
 
 He had six children when Peter Paul was born, and 
 this family was not only one of the most upright, but 
 one of the happiest in Cologne. The birth of this 
 seventh child was hailed as a favor of Providence, and 
 yet none could foresee how glorious the name of the 
 frail little creature was destined to be. 
 
 The Prince of Chimay and the Countess of Lalaing 
 were his sponsors. His first years flowed pleasantly in 
 the midst of the caresses of his relatives, who tenderly 
 loved, and would have spoiled him, if his father and 
 mother, who knew the importance of the first education 
 of children, had not carefully watched over him. Peter 
 Paul was of remarkable beauty, and of so precocious an 
 intelligence, that he astonished by his repartees at the 
 age of five years. He was good-hearted, gay, and 
 amiable, but of extreme petulance, and he could hardly 
 bear the least contradiction. 
 
 His father gave the greatest care to his education : he 
 chose a French tutor for him, and as he himself spoke 
 only in Latin with him, and his mother in Flemish, 
 Peter Paul learned the three languages without think- 
 ing of it. He was afterwards sent to college, and at 
 the age of ten years could translate Greek authors at 
 sight : he played very well on the lute, was a good 
 horseman, and learned fencing; in a word, excelled in 
 everything he wished to learn. 
 
PAINTERS. 245 
 
 John Eubens reflected much on the future career of 
 this child ; he felt that God had not so marvellously en- 
 dowed him to be useless in the world, and he prayed 
 that he might be permitted to direct his astonishing 
 faculties aright, that He would show him the career 
 which Peter Paul ought to embrace. The worthy man 
 was deprived of the joy of witnessing the effect of his 
 prayer. One evening, as he was quietly reading by the 
 fireside, he heard a voice in the street calling for help. 
 He rose to run to those who were in danger, but in his 
 hurry he struck his head against the cornice of the 
 chimney, and broke his temple. 
 
 This sad loss decided the mother of Peter Paul to 
 settle her property, and return to Antwerp, where she 
 had relations. The young Rubens continued his studies 
 there with the same success as at Cologne : he soon ex- 
 celled all his schoolmates, and the regular course of his 
 studies not sufficing for his ardor, he learned English, 
 Spanish, and Italian. If it had been a source of disquiet 
 to John to know what profession was best to give his son, 
 one may easily imagine how much this case occupied his 
 widow. The Countess of Lalaing having expressed a 
 desire to have Peter Paul as a page, his mother assem- 
 bled her family in council, and each member advising her 
 to accept the offer of the noble lady, the godson of the 
 countess left college to live with her. 
 
 But the dissipated life of young gentlemen was not 
 pleasing to Kubens, habituated as he was to the austere 
 
246 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 simplicity of his paternal roof. After an absence of one 
 year, he returned to visit his mother, and amused him- 
 self with painting, to occupy his leisure. From a little 
 child he had manifested great taste for drawing, and 
 had resumed his pencil when wishing to escape the 
 ennui inseparable from idleness. One morning his 
 mother found him busy finishing a small picture, with 
 which she was greatly delighted. Peter Paul took ad- 
 vantage of the moment to beg permission to study with 
 some painter of repute. 
 
 Madame Rubens was surprised at such a request ; she 
 could not believe that a young gentleman like her son, 
 having all that could be desired to succeed in the world, 
 should think of becoming a painter. She told Paul so, 
 but he insisted on representing to her the vacant and 
 useless life which he was leading at the Countess of La- 
 laing's. The \vise lady agreed with him on the latter 
 point, and decided that he should remain at home with 
 her. This was something gained, but it was not all. 
 The taste of Rubens for painting assumed all the char- 
 acter of a real vocation. He often spoke of it to his 
 mother, when she seemed best disposed to listen to him ; 
 but she would not consent. Again and again he in- 
 sisted, and tried to persuade her, that so far from the 
 profession of painting being unworthy of a noble man, 
 it was, on the contrary, one of the most beautiful and 
 glorious of professions. The widow, not venturing to 
 take upon herself either the responsibility of opposing 
 
PAINTERS. 247 
 
 the wish of her son, or of acceding to it, again convoked 
 the members of her family, and after Rubens had ex- 
 pressed his desires and hopes, they judged it best not to 
 contradict him. 
 
 Some days afterwards, Peter Paul's tutor conducted 
 him to Adam Van Ort, a painter of great repute in 
 Antwerp, and placed him under his instruction. Adam 
 Van Ort was a coarse, gross, uneducated man. It re- 
 quired great patience on the part of Rubens to bear with 
 his hard and scolding humor, but the love of art silenced 
 his natural vivacity. He remained eighteen months 
 with this teacher. One day Adam entered the studio 
 more intoxicated than usual : after abusing his pupils, 
 he wished to beat James Jordaens, the youngest and 
 most feeble among them. Rubens and some others 
 took the child from him, and resolved to leave such an 
 ill-behaved professor. Peter Paul went home to his 
 mother, who desired him to give up painting as a pro- 
 fession, because people like Van Ort followed it. 
 
 Before young Rubens could answer, the visit of Prince 
 Chimay, his godfather, was announced. The prince in- 
 troduced to Madame Rubens a stranger who accompa- 
 nied him, who was no other than Master Otto Vaenius, 
 then the most celebrated painter in Flanders. Paul, 
 who had long known him by reputation, begged him to 
 take him as a pupil ; and Lady Rubens, seeing the re- 
 spect and esteem in which this artist was held, perceived 
 that there were more worthy representatives of painting 
 
248 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 than Yan Ort. Otto Voenius wished to see some of 
 young Rubens's works before entering into any engage- 
 ment. A little picture, the Rape of Orithyia, which the 
 young man had made as a gift to his mother, was shown 
 him. The painter uttered a cry of surprise and admi- 
 ration at sight of the picture : he embraced Rubens, 
 predicting that he would one day be not only the great- 
 est painter of Flanders, but of the world. 
 
 Dame Rubens, hearing this from one who was con- 
 sidered as a most skilful painter, made no hesitation 
 about confiding her son to his care. The next morning 
 Otto Vaenius returned to Brussels, where Rubens accom- 
 panied him. The uncommon ability of the young man, 
 his love of labor, and his charming character, won the 
 affection of his master, who regarded him as a son. 
 Otto Vaenius well knew that his pupil would surpass 
 him ; but feeling no jealousy, he did all in his power to 
 develop the genius with which Providence had endowed 
 him. 
 
 During three years Rubens was the object of his 
 most tender solicitude ; and , .knowing that it was indis- 
 pensable for the young man to travel, he encouraged a 
 separation which was painful to himself. 
 
 " For a long time I have had nothing to teach you, 
 my son," he said to him; "henceforth my instruction 
 would be superfluous : you must go to Italy, where the 
 study of the chefs-d'oeuvre of the great masters will 
 perfect you." 
 
PAINTERS. 249 
 
 Rubens could not refrain from weeping at the thought 
 of separating from his second father, although he ardently 
 desired to go to Rome. He made no objection to fol- 
 lowing the advice of his worthy master, and Otto Vaenius 
 went with him to obtain the consent of Dame Rubens 
 to this voyage. Paul's relations deliberated again, and 
 then gave the young painter permission to leave Flan- 
 ders. 
 
 Otto Vsenius had many friends in Italy, to whom he 
 addressed letters of recommendation for his dear pupil ; 
 and he charged him to present himself to the Arch-Duke 
 Albert, and his wife Isabella, before leaving. Rubens 
 was most kindly received by them ; the arch-duke tok 
 a gold chain from his own neck, and put it upon that 
 of Rubens, "in order," he said, "to keep him in remem- 
 brance of the ties which ought to attach him to his 
 country." The arch-duchess presented him with a mag- 
 nificent ring. After receiving the good wishes of his 
 mother, and her blessing, and bidding adieu to his 
 brothers and sisters, he set out in May of the year 1600. 
 
 His first visit was to Venice, where he was transported 
 by the works of Titian, Giorgione, and Paul Veronese ; 
 he studied them carefully, and tried to imitate what was 
 most striking in the manner of each. A nobleman 
 from Mantua, who saw some of Rubens's pictures, found 
 them so beautiful, that he wrote to Vincent de Gon- 
 zaga, Duke of Mantua, in praise of this young artist. 
 Vincent immediately invited Rubens to his court, and 
 
250 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 finding that his praises had not been exaggerated, named 
 him his painter, made him munificent presents, and 
 otherwise showed him much affection and esteem. 
 
 Some differences having arisen between the King of 
 Spain and the duke, the latter, wishing to send some 
 person capable of dissipating the prejudices which the 
 king had against him, chose Rubens as one in whom he 
 could best confide. The young man accepted the mis- 
 sion, and departed for Spain, with a suite of twenty-two 
 persons. 
 
 He offered Philip III., on the part of Vincent, a 
 magnificent carriage, with six Neapolitan horses. Al- 
 though only twenty years old, he exceeded all the hopes 
 of the duke. His loyalty, his frankness, the conviction 
 with which he spoke of the court of Mantua, gained 
 him the most complete success. Philip III. testified his 
 . satisfaction that the duke had chosen him for ambassa- 
 dor, and at his departure gave tangible proofs of his 
 kindly feeling towards him. The Duke of Mantua re- 
 ceived him with open arms, proclaimed him as skilful a 
 diplomatist as a great painter, and, according to an his- 
 torian of Ferrara, required that he should pass the whole 
 day in the apartment of the duchess, as a son of the 
 house. 
 
 A year passed before Rubens could think of leaving 
 Mantua; however, as all the kindness of the duke 
 could not make him forget the purpose for which he had 
 come to Italy, he solicited and obtained his dismissal. 
 
PAINTERS. 251 
 
 Vincent forced him to accept a large sum of money, 
 and made him a present of a superb gold chain, "al- 
 though," continues the same historian, " Kubens had 
 received so many since he came to Spain, that there was 
 no more place on his breast for the new one : he wore 
 about twenty thousand ducats worth of gold and precious 
 stones, presents and honorable testimonials of kings, 
 princes, and princesses, whose portraits he had painted, 
 or whose courts he had visited. 
 
 Kubens went to Kome, and was received with every 
 mark of distinction by the Cardinal Cynthio Aldobran- 
 dini, to whom Duke Vincent had recommended him. 
 Aldobrandini presented him to his uncle, Pope Clement 
 VII., who, charmed with the talent of the artist, en- 
 deavored to retain him in Rome ; but Peter Paul desired 
 to remain only a few months : he painted three pictures, 
 which had been ordered by the Arch-Duke Albert for 
 the chapel of St. Helena, in the church of the Holy 
 Cross, and then departed for Florence. 
 
 The duke, very happy to have a visit from him, en- 
 gaged him to paint his own portrait, and placed it in 
 the gallery where were the portraits of the greatest 
 painters in the world. After executing some important 
 works in Florence, he went to Bologna, on a visit to 
 the Carracci, and returned to Venice, to enjoy the im- 
 mortal compositions of the painters who have rendered 
 that city illustrious. The Pope recalled him to Rome ; 
 and while there he painted twelve pictures, representing 
 
252 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 the twelve apostles, for the Palace Rospigliosi. He 
 also painted several pieces for the Princess Scalamara, 
 the Cardinal Chizi, Prince Colonna, and the Pope. 
 Having a desire to return to Flanders, he set out for 
 Milan and Geneva, which he wished to see before leav- 
 ing Italy. 
 
 At Milan he drew the famous Supper of Leonardo da 
 Vinci. He stopped much longer at Geneva, which he 
 intended to see in passing only : there he designed, and 
 had engraved, a splendid collection, which was afterwards 
 published at Antwerp, under the title of Palazzi di 
 Genoa. 
 
 Peter Paul did not wish to undertake anything new 
 until he had seen again his native country, and embraced 
 his mother : it was seven years since he left that dear 
 mother, and during that time he had acquired fortune 
 and glory enough to satisfy the most ambitious person ; 
 he had done enough to render the name which he bore 
 celebrated ; he felt the need of witnessing the joy of his 
 dear mother at his return, and receiving her maternal 
 felicitations, after so many others. He freighted a 
 small vessel, which was to take him immediately to 
 Flanders, and he prepared to depart. Just as he was 
 about to embark, he received a letter, informing him 
 that this good mother was dangerously ill, and desired 
 to see him before she died. Who can tell the grief and 
 mortal anguish to which he was a prey during the journey ? 
 At Flanders he heard that he was too late. . . . Then, 
 
PAINTERS. 253 
 
 instead of going to Antwerp, where his family awaited 
 him, he shut himself up in the convent of St. Michael, 
 where his mother was buried. He remained there four 
 months, giving himself up entirely to his grief, and the 
 pious care of erecting a monument to his beloved moth- 
 er. He had no wish to leave the cloister ; and all the 
 prayers of Otto Vaenius, his good master, and those 
 of Arch-Duke Albert, were hardly sufficient to make 
 him resume his pencil. 
 
 The arch-duke called him to court, named him his 
 painter, and gave him the chamberlain's golden key. 
 Rubens could no longer resist so much kindness ; but 
 fearing that if he remained at the palace he should not 
 have time enough to work, he obtained permission to 
 settle in Antwerp, where he bought a house, and recon- 
 structed it in Roman style, and collected therein all the 
 objects of art which he had bought in travelling, such 
 as paintings, antique statues, busts, bass-reliefs, medal- 
 lions, and cameos. He arranged a magnificent studio, 
 with a royal staircase leading to it, over which immense 
 pictures could be carried. 
 
 Soon after Rubens had settled in Antwerp, he mar- 
 ried Isabella Brant, a good and beautiful young lady, 
 the niece of his elder brother Philip's wife. His first 
 child, named Albert, was held at the baptismal font by 
 the arch-duke. 
 
 No painter ever rose so quickly, or so high, in the 
 esteem of his fellow-countrymen. Before going to Italy, 
 
254 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 Rubens, by the advice of Otto Vsenius, had concealed 
 his paintings from public view ; since his return to Flan- 
 ders he had done nothing, and yet was much talked of. 
 His reputation overshadowed that of other painters, who, 
 after giving way to jealousy for a short time, recognized 
 his superiority ; and after seeing a Holy Family, which 
 the arch-duke had ordered of Peter Paul to ornament 
 his oratory, they became his most ardent admirers. 
 
 The fraternity of St. Ildefonso, for whom he painted 
 a picture representing the Virgin seated upon a golden 
 throne, and giving the chasuble to St. Ildefonso, received 
 him as a member. He also painted the portraits of 
 Albert and Isabella upon the two shutters which covered 
 the picture. The admiration caused by this beautiful 
 picture surpasses all that can be imagined. The treas- 
 urer of the fraternity offered Rubens a large sum for it, 
 which he refused, saying that he was but too well paid 
 by the honor of being a member of their illustrious 
 society. 
 
 Every year that followed the establishment of Rubens 
 in Flanders added to his talent, his renown, and his for- 
 tune. He lived like a prince ; yet, faithful to art, to 
 which he was so much indebted, he never felt happier 
 than when he was at work in his studio. Peter Paul 
 was not only an eminent painter, but also an architect. 
 The Jesuits of Antwerp wished the plan of a church, in 
 the construction of which they could use a large quan- 
 tity of different marbles, taken by the Spaniards from 
 
PAINTERS. 255 
 
 an Algerine corsair. The church, which was much 
 admired, was built on Kubens's plan, and he enriched it 
 with magnificent pictures. Unfortunately this church 
 was entirely destroyed by lightning in 1718. 
 
 The queen, Marie de Medici, wishing to decorate the 
 Palace of Luxembourg, charged the ambassador to 
 Flanders to invite Rubens to Paris. He went, and, 
 after an understanding with the princess upon the sub- 
 jects which he should paint, he obtained permission to 
 execute them at his own home. Peter Paul was twenty 
 months painting twenty-four pictures, which contain the 
 whole history of Marie de Medici up to 1620, the time 
 at which they were painted. Rubens took them to 
 Paris, and attended to placing them, to the great joy of 
 the queen, who never tired of admiring the talent dis- 
 played in them, and the promptitude with which he had 
 gratified her wishes. 
 
 The court shared the queen's enthusiasm, and Rubens 
 was employed to retrace the great deeds of Henry IY. 
 in a new suite of pictures a task which he accepted 
 with great pleasure. Soon after, discord breaking out 
 between the queen-mother and Louis XIII., Marie de 
 Medici left France, and the work of the great painter 
 was interrupted. 
 
 Rubens saw the Duke of Buckingham, ambassador 
 from England, in Paris, and learned from him that 
 Charles I. would willingly renew the old relations with 
 Spain, which had been troubled by various events. 
 
256 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Rubens reported the words of Buckingham to the Arch- 
 Duchess Isabella, daughter of the King of Spain ; and 
 she, knowing how much one could depend upon the 
 ability of the artist, empowered him to hold a diplomatic 
 correspondence with the duke, whilst she would under- 
 take to bring the King of Spain to the sentiments ex- 
 pressed by the court of England. 
 
 Rubens did not neglect his painting, even while occu- 
 pied in these negotiations. It was about this time that 
 he painted those of his pictures which he considered the 
 best. Shut up in a castle, which he built near Malines, 
 he painted many admirable compositions for the cathe- 
 dral and church of St. .John of Malines, among which 
 is the Miraculous Draught of Fishes. 
 
 The death of his wife, in 1626, tore him away from 
 this pleasant solitude ; his friends urged him to travel, 
 to divert his grief. He went through Holland, visited 
 all the artists of renown, and enriched his collections with 
 some of their works, for which he paid royally. In this 
 journey he also found the means of being useful to the 
 arch-duchess, by bringing about a good understanding 
 between the states of Holland and the court of Brussels. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the King of Spain, Philip IV., 
 wrote to the arch-duchess, his daughter, to send Rubens 
 to him, that he might confer with him upon the subject 
 of the negotiations undertaken with England. He set 
 out for Madrid in 1627 : it was there that he met Velas- 
 quez, with whom he formed an intimate friendship. 
 
PAINTERS. 257 
 
 Philip was as much astonished by his penetration and 
 ability in business matters as by his wonderful talent 
 for painting : this prince retained him at his court 
 eighteen months ; he then sent him to England, after 
 having presented him with a ring of inestimable value, 
 and six Andalusian horses, the handsomest that could 
 be found. When Rubens arrived in London, Bucking- 
 ham was dead ; he then addressed himself to Chancellor 
 Cottington, who presented him to the king. 
 
 Charles I. received the illustrious painter with due 
 honors, and ordered a portrait. But the mind of Rubens 
 was bent upon the mission with which he had been in- 
 trusted by Philip IV. : he rendered his conversation 
 agreeable to the king, who, knowing that he came from 
 Spain, conversed upon the difficulties existing between 
 the two countries. Then Rubens told him of the 
 propositions of which he was bearer ; and, Charles hav- 
 ing accepted him as a mediator, he succeeded in making 
 the basis of a treaty of peace, favorable to England as 
 well as to Spain. Charles was so delighted that he 
 knighted Rubens in full Parliament, put a valuable ring 
 upon his finger, gave him a chain, with his portrait 
 attached, and forced him to accept the bordering of his 
 hat, which was worth thirty thousand francs. Rubens 
 left seventeen pictures in England, a painted ceiling, in 
 the Palace of Whitehall, and an equestrian portrait of 
 the king, under the figure of St. George. 
 
 The great artist returned to Brussels, for a short time, 
 17 
 
258 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 on his way to Spain, charged by the arch-duchess with 
 a mission for Philip IV. This prince, well pleased with 
 what he had accomplished in London, gave him the 
 Golden Key, a very enviable distinction at the court 
 of Spain, made him other presents, and charged him 
 with instructions for the States of Holland. 
 
 Rubens was delighted to return home to Antwerp, 
 where he recommenced work with a feeling of happiness 
 to which he had long been a stranger. Although he 
 had not abandoned art, he had been much distracted by 
 diplomacy during the four years which had passed. He 
 resolved henceforward to live as a simple citizen, and 
 married, for his second wife, Helena Forman, who, 
 much younger than he, of great beauty, sought only 
 the glory of his name, which she should partake by this 
 alliance. More than once did Rubens regret his sweet 
 and modest Isabelle, who loved him for himself, and 
 never had other care than for his happiness. 
 
 The illustrious painter found a great consolation in 
 his labors : assailed by demands for his pictures, he suc- 
 ceeded, through his great facility, in satisfying them. 
 Besides, his pupils, sincerely devoted to his glory, did 
 for him what Raphael's pupils had done : the thoughts 
 of the master sprang up under their pencils, and Rubens, 
 by some wise finishing strokes, impressed the seal of his 
 genius upon them. 
 
 His beautiful and glorious career finished but too 
 soon. Peter Paul was not fifty-five years old when 
 
PAINTERS. 259 
 
 violent attacks of gout interrupted his work. At first, 
 sustained by the thought that his sufferings would dimin- 
 ish, he hoped for relief; but they increased so much that 
 he understood that he was past recovery, and resigned 
 himself, calling to mind the virtues of his father, and the 
 pious lessons of his mother. He suffered the most ter- 
 rible pains, and the idleness they imposed upon him, for 
 six years, without a murmur : finally he died, May 30, 
 1640, at the age of sixty-three years. 
 
 He was buried in the Church of St. James, at Ant- 
 werp, where Helena raised a tomb to his memory, the 
 most beautiful ornament of which is a picture by Rubens's 
 own hand. 
 
 The principal works of this great master are at Brus- 
 sels, Ghent, Malines, Antwerp, London, Paris, Madrid, 
 and Rome. There is no museum which does not possess 
 one or more : it is estimated that he left at least thirteen 
 hundred pictures. No kind of painting was unknown to 
 him, history, landscapes, portraits, fruits and flowers, 
 animals, all, in turn, occupied his pencil, without 
 one's being able to say in which he excelled. In Ru- 
 bens were united all the qualities which make great 
 painters, an elevated genius, vivid and fruitful imagi- 
 nation, varied instruction, a bold, easy, and light touch, 
 true and brilliant coloring. The brilliancy, harmony, 
 and strength which characterize his pictures cannot be 
 too much admired. Nowhere can be found more beau- 
 tiful ideas, rendered with more nobleness and charm, 
 
260 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 more varied positions of the head, more life-like, fresher 
 skins, gracefully-thrown draperies, or more truthful and 
 more feeling expression. Some critics reproach him 
 with incorrectness in his figures, and heavy design ; but 
 if some of Rubens's works have these faults, it may be 
 supposed that they are not entirely from his own hand ; 
 for those which he did himself, with care, are exempt. 
 
 Rubens invented so easily, that, if he painted the 
 same subject several times, he always found a new 
 arrangement for the scenes he was to reproduce, differ- 
 ent attitudes, and different personages ; he made an al- 
 most new creation of each copy. He worked with such 
 freedom of mind, that he listened to the reading of cele- 
 brated authors and poets, or recited verses himself, while 
 painting. The drawings of this artist are of a firm and 
 wise touch, and replete with spirit and harmony. Ru- 
 bens also engraved several pieces. 
 
 The genius of this great man would have raised him to 
 the first rank in whatever career he might have chosen. 
 As a child, he was remarkable for the facility with which 
 he acquired languages, belles-lettres, and sciences ; as 
 a young man, he excelled in arts ; at the age of man- 
 hood, he conducted the most difficult negotiations with 
 uncommon ability. After the death of the Arch-Duke 
 Albert, Isabella often called upon him for advice and as- 
 sistance ; the kings of Spain and England confided their 
 interests to him, and had no cause to repent their choice. 
 
 From the age of twenty, when he was rich and hon- 
 
PAINTERS. 261 
 
 ored, to the time of his death, his reputation and fortune 
 continually increased. He was noble in appearance and 
 manners, his mind was brilliant and solid, and the charm 
 of his conversation caused him to be sought by princes 
 as by artists. He kept up a correspondence with noble- 
 men of different courts of Europe, and kings them- 
 selves were happy to be numbered among his friends. 
 His house was a magnificent palace, ornamented with 
 some of his richest pictures : there he received the visits 
 of guests illustrious by their rank or their talent. Eu- 
 bens lived surrounded by his pupils, as a prince sur- 
 rounded by his court, or, more properly speaking, as a 
 father in the midst of his children. Among the pupils 
 who became distinguished were Diepenbach, Jacques 
 Jordaens, David Teniers, Juste, Vanrnol, Yan Tulden, 
 and many others ; but Yan Dyck eclipsed them all, and 
 inherited the glory of his master. 
 
 Although Rubens had studied the Italian schools with 
 great care, he belonged to none of them. He is him- 
 self the head of a school which changed the face of 
 painting. We find nothing of the idealistic painters in 
 him ; he has imitated Nature, though not servilely ; he 
 knew how to express all her power and force without 
 diminishing her grace and beauty. Something great 
 and noble prevents this imitation of nature from becom- 
 ing trivial ; and if he has not obtained his types from 
 the ideal, they are none the less remarkable for their 
 grandeur than for their truth. 
 
262 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 VAN DYCK. 
 
 Antonio Van Dyck was born at Antwerp the 22d of 
 March, 1599. His father was a glass-painter, and his 
 mother, who painted landscapes very well, gave him 
 early instruction in painting, and he succeeded so well, 
 that they resolved to make an artist of him. When he 
 was old enough to leave his paternal home for the studio 
 of a master, they placed him under the care of Henry 
 Van Balen, who was considered a very skilful painter; 
 he had travelled in Italy, and studied the chefs-d'oeuvre 
 of that country with great success. He soon perceived 
 uncommon ability in his pupil, which he cultivated with 
 zeal, and after some years passed under his direction, 
 Van Dyck presented himself to Eubens, who was then 
 the king of painting. 
 
 Rubens took him into the number of his pupils, for 
 whom he soon became a second master, as he promptly 
 seized the manner of the illustrious artist, and gained 
 his confidence and affection. Rubens, being overbur- 
 dened with work, left to Van Dyck the care of painting 
 the most unimportant parts of his pictures ; then he 
 allowed him to paint the whole, reserving the finish- 
 ing touches for himself, before inscribing the name 
 Rubens. 
 
 One day, when the great master, called away by im- 
 portant business, had forgotten to lock the door of the 
 
PAINTERS. 263 
 
 particular studio in which he loved to paint alone, his 
 pupils, yielding to their curiosity, slipped in to examine 
 his work. The picture was the Descent from the Gross, 
 one of his masterpieces. At first the young people re- 
 spectfully admired the beautiful picture, but soon for- 
 getting where they were, they began to play, and the 
 wildest enticing the rest, they chased each other in high 
 glee through the studio, until one of them slipped, and 
 falling, threw down the easel. When, raising the pic- 
 ture, they saw that the arm of the Magdalen and a 
 part of the Virgin's face were effaced, a cry of dis- 
 tress resounded through the studio. What was to be 
 done? They could hope for no indulgence from Eu- 
 bens for a fault followed by such an accident ; he would 
 send the guilty ones away, without doubt ; and where 
 could they find another master qualified to take his place ? 
 
 Van Dyck persuaded his comrades to cease their use- 
 less complaints, and offered to try to repair the dam- 
 age. He set about it, and in a few hours the picture 
 was as Eubens had left it. The pupils went out of the 
 cabinet, shutting the door, and each anxiously awaited 
 the morrow. The master came as usual, followed by 
 his pupils, to whom he distributed their work for the 
 day : he stood before his picture of the Descent from the 
 Cross, examined it some moments, then, satisfied with 
 his work, he said to his pupils, 
 
 "How do this head and this arm appear to you? 
 It is surely not the poorest part of what I did yester- 
 day." 
 
264 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 The pupils, stupefied, did not answer. Rubens com- 
 menced work, and soon discovered that the parts of the 
 picture which he had just praised were not from his 
 own hand, and the pupils were obliged to tell him the 
 truth. The master felicitated Van Dyck, embraced him 
 tenderly, and advised him to go to Italy. The young 
 man anticipated the voyage with pleasure ; he made all 
 preparations, and after a few weeks, took leave of Ru- 
 bens, who gave him a fine horse, a purse of gold, and 
 wished him good success. 
 
 Some historians assert that Rubens, fearing that his 
 own reputation would fade before Yan Dyck's, advised 
 his departure ; but in Rubens's station he had nothing to 
 fear, and we are much more inclined to think that his 
 advice was wholly disinterested. 
 
 Yan Dyck joyfully set out upon the beautiful horse 
 which his master had given him, yet he did not go far. 
 Captivated by the beauty of a young girl whom he saw 
 in one of the villages through which he passed, he for- 
 got Italy, and installed himself near her dwelling for 
 several months. Rubens, hearing this, went himself to 
 recall Yan Dyck to the glory which he was renouncing. 
 Docile to his master's voice, Yan Dyck recognized his 
 error, and continued his route. He left a picture in the 
 village, /St. Martin tearing his Cloak in two to cover 
 a Beggar. Yan Dyck, having spent all the money 
 which he owed to Rubens's liberality, offered the curate 
 to make any picture he should choose for his church, 
 
PAINTERS. 265 
 
 provided they would furnish him with canvas and colors. 
 The good curate, who had heard the young man spoken 
 of as the favorite pupil of the great painter of Antwerp, 
 did not hesitate to procure what he wished, and was so 
 much pleased with the picture, which really was one of 
 Van Dyck's best, that he immediately paid him one 
 hundred florins. 
 
 This was sufficient for the young man's travelling ex- 
 penses. At Venice, he studied and copied the com- 
 positions of Titian, of Paul Veronese, and of Tintoretto. 
 Then he went to Kome, Naples, and Sicily, thence to 
 Genoa, where he remained some time, occupied upon 
 the portraits of the principal characters of the city. 
 Finally, content with the progress he had made, he 
 wished to see Flanders again. In a few years he at- 
 tained a brilliant reputation, which was heightened by 
 the following incident : 
 
 The Canons of Courtray ordered a picture for the 
 grand altar of their Chapter House. Van Dyck painted 
 a Christ on the Cross, and chose the moment at which 
 the executioners were raising the cross, to which Christ 
 was fastened, to place it in the ground. The picture 
 was admirable : but unfortunately it did not please the 
 canons. They cried out, and said that the painter, who 
 had been so much praised, was good for nothing but a 
 sign dauber. Van Dyck made no reply, placed the 
 picture, and demanded the price fixed, refusing to take 
 less. The canons complained of their misfortune ; but, 
 
266 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 to their great surprise, the connoisseurs, to whom they 
 showed the Christ, declared that they never saw any- 
 thing more beautiful. The more the picture had been 
 decried, the more it was praised ; people flocked to see 
 it, and the canons, recognizing their error, requested 
 Yan Dyck to paint two other pictures, which he refused 
 to do. 
 
 Jealousy excited enmity among the Flemish painters, 
 and Yan Dyck, who loved peace, left Antwerp, and went 
 to establish himself at the Hague, where he was kindly 
 received by the Prince of Orange. All the distinguished 
 persons of the court, beginning with the prince and prin- 
 cess, wished their portraits from the hand of Yan Dyck. 
 
 From the Hague he went to England, where he was 
 unknown, and remained but a short time. After his 
 departure they learned who he was, and King Charles I. 
 sent a nobleman after him to beg him to return. Yan 
 Dyck accepted the invitation of the king, who gave him 
 a flattering reception. His first pictures caused much 
 admiration at the court : Charles, who was passionately 
 fond of the arts, knighted him, presented him with a 
 gold chain, and his portrait enriched with diamonds. 
 
 The royal favor enhancing the reputation of Yan 
 Dyck, he was overwhelmed with orders. He married 
 into the illustrious family of Count Gowry, lived in 
 great style, had his equerries, pages, and the most beau- 
 tiful horses in London. The luxury of his table equalled 
 that of his equipage : he was accustomed to invite the 
 
PAINTERS. 267 
 
 nobility, who came to his studio for sittings, and hired 
 musicians played the most delightful symphonies during 
 the repast. 
 
 Van Dyck received such large sums for his smallest 
 pictures, that he could have allowed himself all these 
 expenses, if his taste for alchemy had not caused him 
 to sacrifice more gold on chimerical hopes than was 
 necessary for his family expenses. The enormous sums 
 which he spent obliged him to forced labor, which did 
 not fail to prey upon his health. At first he did not 
 perceive this ; and finding that he had acquired sufficient 
 renown in England, he went to Paris, to solicit the 
 honor of painting the gallery of the Louvre ; but he 
 came too late : the decoration of the gallery had been 
 given to Poussin. 
 
 Van Dyck then returned to his native country, but 
 his wife not being able to habituate herself to living in 
 Flanders, he took her back to England. No sooner 
 was it known that he had returned, than he was over- 
 powered with orders : there was scarcely a nobleman in 
 the whole United Kingdom who would not have sold 
 lands, or mortgaged castles, to bequeath his portrait, 
 painted by Van Dyck, to his descendants. The artist 
 resumed his pencil, refusing to listen to the advice of 
 friends who begged him to moderate his ardor. Soon 
 their fears were realized ; too much fatigue exhausted 
 the illustrious painter ; he sickened and died at the age 
 of forty-one. 
 
268 THE PRINCES OF AR*. 
 
 He was buried with great pornp in the Church of St. 
 Paul, London, and a magnificent tomb raised to him. 
 
 The principles and manner of Rubens are recognizable 
 in Van Dyck's works ; however, as a historical painter, 
 he is inferior to his master, although his pencil is often 
 more flowing, and neater, his complexions fresher, and 
 his drawing more elegant. But in portraits, Van Dyck 
 excelled. He could catch the physiognomy of a person, 
 and express his character in his features ; in a word, 
 render nature with more grace, spirit, nobleness, and 
 truth than almost any other painter. A brilliant color- 
 ing, heads and hands perfect, a wonderful understand- 
 ing of adjustment, distinguish the portraits of Van 
 Dyck, and place them by the side of those of Titian, 
 which they excel, even in beauty of detail. 
 
 This master has become well known through engrav- 
 ing, and he himself reproduced some of his best pieces in 
 this way. We are indebted to him for the portraits of 
 the principal artists of his time, portraits for which he 
 would receive no remuneration, being, as he said, but 
 too happy to be able to immortalize himself by repro- 
 ducing the features of those to whose genius posterity 
 would render homage. 
 
PAINTERS. 269 
 
 REMBRANDT. 
 
 Paul Gerretz, known by the name of Rembrandt, 
 was born in 1606, in a mill, situated upon an arm of 
 the Rhine, between the villages of Leyendorp and Kon- 
 kerck, some leagues from Leyden. His father, to whom 
 the mill belonged, called himself Van Rheyn, to dis- 
 tinguish himself from the other members of the family : 
 this name is often added to that of the painter, whose 
 history we are about to relate. 
 
 Paul was sent, when very young, to the University of 
 Leyden, because his parents wished to make a learned 
 man of him, and preferred any other than the paternal 
 profession. Their disappointment was very great, when 
 they learned that either through want of intelligence, or 
 of good will, the child made very little progress. Al- 
 though it grieved them very much to renounce the hope 
 of his becoming a learned man, they took him home, 
 determined to employ him in the mill. Rembrandt felt 
 no regret at leaving Leyden, but his father soon per- 
 ceived that his assistance would be of trifling use to 
 him. Paul paid little attention to the instructions which 
 were given him, and instead of working, he passed the 
 greater part of the day in copying engravings which he 
 had bought at Leyden, or in drawing the different ob- 
 jects which offered themselves to his view. 
 
 "You will never become rich if you spend your time 
 
270 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 in such childishness," said his father, who knew that he 
 was much preoccupied with the idea of making a fortune. 
 
 " Who knows my father ? " replied the young man. 
 " Have you not heard of the fabulous wealth of Master 
 Rubens, the Flemish painter? Why should not I make 
 a fortune as he did ? " 
 
 Van Bheyn shook his head. 
 
 "Try to place me with a painter for some months," 
 said Paul ; " and if at the end of the time he does not 
 find that I have a talent for painting, I will return to 
 you, and then I promise you I will work." 
 
 The name of Rubens had awakened in the heart of 
 the miller the ambition which he had so unwillingly 
 renounced of seeing his son distinguish himself in 
 some brilliant career : he acceded to Paul's desire, and 
 placed him in the studio of Jacques Zvaanemburg. 
 Jacques was not an able master, but the genius of his 
 new pupil supplied the insufficiency of his lessons. In- 
 stead of some months, Rembrandt passed three years 
 under his direction, and left him to go to Amsterdam, 
 where Peter Lastman and George Schooten finished 
 teaching him the principles of painting. When he had 
 learned all that he could from them, he went home, and 
 studied nature with indefatigable ardor. His father and 
 mother, astonished at his talent, advised him to establish 
 himself in some large city, not doubting that he would 
 eclipse the greatest painters. But Paul, mistrusting 
 their judgment in this matter, obstinately refused to 
 
PAINTERS. 271 
 
 allow any one to see his sketches. He worked in this 
 way some time longer ; finally, giving way to the en- 
 treaties of his mother, he consented to show a small pic- 
 ture, which he had just finished, to some of his friends. 
 They spoke of it to others, and strangers who were in 
 the village wished to see the works of the young miller. 
 Great was their surprise on seeing a finished canvas, 
 that a master of renown would acknowledge, instead of 
 the rough sketch of a beginner : they manifested their 
 pleasure to Rembrandt, predicting a glorious future, and 
 advising him to carry the picture to the city, where ama- 
 teurs would not be wanting. 
 
 Paul took their advice, and was half crazy with joy 
 at having an offer of one hundred florins for his pic- 
 ture. He returned in triumph to the paternal mill, but 
 only to take leave of his parents, for he had already 
 chosen an atelier at the Hague. As soon as he was in- 
 stalled there, he set to work with a zeal which was 
 stimulated by the pleasure of receiving considerable 
 sums for each of his pictures. The young painter made 
 himself known in a short time, and when he had ac- 
 quired the degree of reputation which he wished, opened 
 a school for painting and received quite a number of 
 pupils. Rembrandt set a good price upon his lessons, 
 was soon in easy circumstances, and in a few years rich. 
 
 Differing from those artists who, for the most part, 
 spend their money as easily as they gain it, and who 
 love to surround themselves with all the superfluities of 
 
272 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 luxury, and all that pertains to an elegant life, Rem- 
 brandt adhered to his habits of simplicity and parsi- 
 mony. He chose a rich country girl for a wife, that 
 she might not oblige him to go into society, for which 
 he had no taste, perhaps because he could not go with- 
 out expense. 
 
 Paul loved money, not for the enjoyments which it 
 procured, but for itself; and if we may believe his his- 
 torians, he took all means to procure it. He worked 
 night and day to meet the numerous orders which he 
 received. He sold the copies of his pupils as his own 
 work, after having retouched and given them the seal 
 which belonged to him alone. It was in vain that per- 
 sons distinguished by birth or talent invited him to 
 their society ; he paid no attention to them, and continued 
 to prefer the society of the common people to theirs. 
 When asked the reason, he answered, that exempt from 
 all ambition, he only wished to live free and forgotten ; 
 but he was careful not to acknowledge that interest had 
 much more to do with his choice than modesty. 
 
 The only passion in which he indulged was that for 
 old furniture, old stuffs, old armor, and instruments of 
 all sorts. He filled his studio with them, so that on 
 entering one might have supposed himself in a second- 
 hand warehouse. He called them, jokingly, his an- 
 tiques, since some connoisseurs, observing incorrectness 
 in some of his works, had advised his going to Italy, 
 to perfect himself by the study of the master-pieces of 
 antiquity. 
 
PAINTERS. 273 
 
 Rembrandt never thought of undertaking such a 
 journey ; it seemed almost that he feared he should lose 
 the repute he was enjoying, by the ardor with which he 
 worked the mine of gold which his pencil had opened to 
 him. He remained the whole day sitting on a wooden 
 bench before his easel in the midst of his old things, and 
 left his work only to partake of his repast, which almost 
 invariably consisted of a salted herring, and bread and 
 cheese, with cold water. He was careful that his wife, 
 the children, and an old servant, his only domestic, thould 
 follow the same regimen, or some other of no greater ex- 
 pense. The luxury of clothing corresponded to that of 
 the table ; and whoever saw Master Rembrandt, would 
 have taken him for an artisan, in common circum- 
 stances, and not for an arch-millionaire painter. 
 
 The avaricious enjoy a pleasure unknown to others. 
 When all were asleep in his house, Paul opened the 
 boxes which enclosed his treasures and contemplated 
 them with exultation. Music had for his ears no such 
 agreeable harmony as the ringing of gold. He counted 
 and recounted it, plunged his hands with delight into the 
 mass, which he raised and let fall in brilliant cascades ; 
 then trembling with the fear of being seen, he hastily 
 closed his money-box, and kept guard over it. 
 
 When some poor farmer, ruined by the unpropitious- 
 ness of the seasons, could not pay his rent, he had re- 
 course to Rembrandt, who' was said to be rich, very rich ; 
 when children, anxious to dissipate the paternal heritage, 
 18 
 
274 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 knocked at the door of his studio, neither farmer nor 
 young gentleman went away empty-handed, if they 
 could give good security, and were willing to pay usu- 
 rious interest. Rembrandt must be well paid for the 
 privation of the gold which he could neither see, hear, 
 nor admire for a time. 
 
 It was well known that Rembrandt was a miser ; that 
 he lent money on usury ; that he was not scrupulous in 
 the practice of any trick to augment his wealth ; yet peo- 
 ple thought much of his talent and his works, so that 
 he never failed to sell them, let him ask what price he 
 would. If he imagined that their enthusiasm was in 
 the least abating, he pretended that he would leave Hol- 
 land, or go to Italy or France to live, and then they 
 would pay whatever he required, thinking that perhaps 
 it would be the last of his chefs-d'oeuvre which they 
 could obtain. 
 
 Very often, when he sent his son to sell his drawings 
 or his engravings, he told him to say that he had stolen 
 them from him, and that he, Master Rembrandt, was 
 saving his collection of drawings and engravings for a 
 foreign prince, and would be furious if he knew that 
 they were being sold singly. And as he feared that the 
 youth might keep a part of the money he received for 
 himself, he never failed, after having taught him so well 
 to lie, to sermonize him upon the horror which one 
 ought to have for falsehood. 
 
 The oddest idea which the love of gain could suggest, 
 
PAINTERS. 275 
 
 was that of feigning death. He confided it to his wife, 
 who, not less avaricious than he, put on mourning, and 
 announced, with tears in her eyes, that Master Rem- 
 brandt, her dear husband, who had left home for a few 
 days, was dead. The news quickly spread, and amateurs 
 soon ran to the house of the deceased to trade with the 
 widow for the works which he had left. The studio 
 was well filled with pictures, which were sold in a few 
 hours, at much greater prices than had been offered to 
 the artist himself; for, since he was dead, they could 
 never find paintings to be compared to his for the magic 
 of coloring, the force of expression, and the minute 
 study of details. The traders and the amateurs com- 
 peted for the possession of the chefs-cPceuvre, which 
 became the property of him who paid the most. Rem- 
 brandt, concealed behind some tapestry, witnessed the 
 strange comedy, joyfully rubbing his hands, and could 
 with difficulty abstain from interfering in the debates of 
 the purchasers. 
 
 When the sale was finished, he came forward, and 
 warmly thanked his admirers for all the praises they 
 had bestowed upon him. 
 
 "I had wished," he said, "to know what posterity 
 would say of me, and the proof is so favorable, that 
 when I receive my final summons, I shall, thanks to you, 
 gentlemen, sleep in peace. But thanks to God, I hope to 
 work many years longer, and to satisfy those among you 
 who were regretting that you possessed only a small 
 number of my pictures." 
 
276 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 The astonished assembly thought best to laugh at 
 the ruse, and said to each other, that a man of genius is 
 permitted to be a little original. Rembrandt counted 
 his florins, tranquilly resumed his pencil, and recom- 
 menced his accustomed life. He worked unremittingly, 
 and painted a great number of historical pieces, interior 
 scenes and portraits. Among the first is a Tobias, an 
 admirable composition, in which all the heads appear to 
 live and speak, and where there is nothing to be desired 
 in arrangement, color, and finish. 
 
 Rembrandt succeeded astonishingly in portraits. It 
 is said that in order to make his talent in this style 
 loiown, he painted the portrait of his domestic, and 
 placed it at the window. The neighbors were at first 
 deceived by it, and saluted the old lady, who did not an- 
 swer. Astonished at such impoliteness, quite unnatural 
 to the curious and talkative old woman, they drew nearer, 
 and recognized their error with bursts of laughter. They 
 told of it to all who would listen, and soon there was not 
 a person in the Hague who had not seen the portrait 
 painted by Master Rembrandt. The nobles and richest 
 people had their portraits taken by him, and nothing 
 could equal the expression, the truth, and the life he 
 gave them. However, he had the fault of not being 
 willing to listen to any suggestion on the part of his 
 patrons ; he would neither flatter or make them younger, 
 nor would he allow them to take any other position than 
 he chose. He was the master, and they must do as he 
 said, or give up having their portraits painted by him. 
 
PAINTERS. 277 
 
 What he wished was not always convenient or agree- 
 able : for example, while he was painting the picture of 
 a family, some one came and told him that a monkey, 
 of which he was very fond, was just dying. Rembrandt 
 expressed his regrets, and continued his work; but, by 
 an odd fancy, he painted the face of the favorite which 
 he had just lost in the foreground of the picture. When 
 the persons for whom he had commenced painting saw 
 this monkey's head, they found it was an ill-timed pleas- 
 antry ; but it was quite another thing, for the artist 
 declared that he wished to paint this souvenir of the 
 animal he loved, and that he would not erase it. They 
 were angry ; then, somewhat appeased, they begged 
 him to take away that grimacing face. Rembrandt 
 would hear to nothing ; he preferred keeping the picture, 
 and paying back that which he had received in advance 
 for it. 
 
 His pupils, who knew so well to what point the artist 
 carried his love for gold, could scarcely believe that he 
 would make such a sacrifice to the memory of the mon- 
 key. They had often amused themselves by painting 
 pieces of money on bits of paper, which they threw on 
 the floor, and which Rembrandt would pick up. His 
 avidity, and disappointment on recognizing his mistake, 
 caused bursts of laughter, in which he almost always 
 joined. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, my children ? " he would 
 say ; " the times are hard, and there is not the smallest 
 
278 THE PRINCES OF AKT. 
 
 bit of money which will not help carry one to the end 
 of the year. You are young and prodigal, I am old 
 and economical ; you are foolish, and I am wise." 
 
 Thus this man, who lived only on privations, who 
 refused himself not only the pleasures which other men 
 seek, but also the happiness of ameliorating the suffer- 
 ings of his fellow-creatures, of seeing happiness enter 
 the bosom of poor families, under the form of a little of 
 that gold which he hid away, this man believed him- 
 self wise. A strange effect of the passions which take 
 possession of our hearts : they obscure our intelligence, 
 and falsify our judgment. 
 
 Rembrandt died in 1674, at the age of sixty-eight 
 years. He is considered as one of the most celebrated 
 artists. He received from Nature a remarkable genius, 
 which labor alone developed, since he studied neither 
 ancient or modern masters. He is particularly distin- 
 guished by a powerful originality ; he never imitated, 
 and none of tlue painters who have followed have been 
 able to seize his manner. Eembrandt possessed the 
 knowledge of chiaro-scuro to an eminent degree; he 
 can be compared only to Titian for the freshness and 
 truth of his complexions. His figures appear to stand 
 out in relief from the picture ; his faces are varied , full 
 of naivete and expression ; his old men's heads are par- 
 ticularly good. Looking at Rembrandt's pictures near, 
 they appear carelessly shaded and rough ; but seen from 
 a distance, they are all harmony and smoothness. The 
 
PAINTERS. 279 
 
 groundwork is generally black, which gives a wonderful 
 effect. If the beauty of type and the purity of lines 
 which characterize the Italian paintings are not found in 
 his compositions, Nature is found there, given with so 
 much truth and liveliness that we never cease to admire 
 them. 
 
 Rembrandt has left many fine landscapes, some draw- 
 ings, not perfectly correct, but very expressive, and 
 some engravings, which are much esteemed by connois- 
 seurs. The most celebrated of the engravings represents 
 Christ healing the sick. It is known by the name of 
 the piece of one hundred francs, because each proof 
 was sold at that price by Rembrandt. The artist had a 
 great number of pupils, among whom were Flinck, 
 Eckoutz, and, above all, Gerard Dow, whose small 
 pictures are marvels of grace, freshness, and truth. 
 
 LE POUSSIN. 
 
 Nicholas Poussin was born the 16th of June, 1594, 
 at the Castle of Villiers, near Andelys. His father was 
 of a noble family, but his fortune was small, and he 
 married the widow of an attorney. He and his wife 
 differed in their ideas of the education of their children : 
 faithful to the noble recollections of his race, he hoped 
 to make a valiant warrior of his son Nicholas, while his 
 wife ardently desired that he should join the clergy. 
 Neither father nor mother had their wish. 
 
280 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 Nicholas early manifested much taste for drawing; 
 to crayon portraits, to paint flowers, trees, birds, had 
 been his greatest amusements. Quentin Varin, a painter 
 of some celebrity in Normandy, having been engaged to 
 restore the Castle of Yernon, made the acquaintance of 
 the father of Nicholas, and, having seen some of the 
 child's sketches, he recognized such a gift for drawing 
 that he wished to teach him the first principles. The 
 progress of his pupil so entirely surpassed his hopes, 
 that he proposed to his friend, with whose precarious 
 situation he was acquainted, to make a painter of his 
 son, rather than a soldier. 
 
 M. Poussin reluctantly yielded to this advice ; and 
 Quentin Yarin, in a short time, was obliged to declare 
 that he could teach Nicholas nothing more. Nicholas, 
 who was then eighteen years old, bade adieu to the 
 castle in which he had passed his childhood, and set out 
 for Paris, where he hoped to find competent teachers, 
 and to make a fortune speedily. But he soon found 
 that he had deluded himself; the teachers were his infe- 
 riors, and instead of a fortune, misery stared at him. 
 But men of genius are not cast down by misfortune. 
 Poussin waited hopefully. 
 
 He worked with a brave heart ; and when he went 
 out of the poor room which served him for a studio, it 
 was to study nature. In one of his excursions through 
 the country he met a young gentleman, with whom he 
 entered into conversation ; they separated, promising to 
 
PAINTERS. 281 
 
 meet again, and in a few days they loved each other like 
 brothers. The young gentleman being called to Poitou 
 by his family, wished Nicholas to accompany him, assur- 
 ing him that his mother would be delighted to receive 
 him, and happy to decorate her castle with some of his 
 works. Poussin accepted the invitation of his friend. 
 However, he was coldly, and almost disdainfully, re- 
 ceived in the house which he had promised himself to 
 consider as his home ; but his pride equalling his talent, 
 he would not accept such hospitality. He was inspired 
 with a desire to see Rome by the sight of some of Raph- 
 ael's and Julio Romano's engravings. He resolved to 
 work unremittingly, in order to amass a sufficiency for 
 the expenses of the voyage. To work ! But who would 
 give him work ? In vain he knocked at the doors of 
 castles and convents ; he looked so poor that no one 
 could conceive of his merit, and everybody turned him 
 off: as a last resource, he commenced sign-painting. 
 
 This did not pay well, even if he could get enough 
 of it. 
 
 Poussin suffered all sorts of privations, and, not 
 knowing what to do to earn his own living, he sold 
 himself to some recruiters ; but fasting had rendered him 
 so feeble that he was considered unfit for military ser- 
 vice. Again he took courage, and, despite his bad 
 luck, felicitating himself upon the recovery of his liberty 
 and his pencil, he sought work so persistently that he 
 at length found it. Although his wages were very 
 
282 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 small, he put aside a part every day ; for he had not 
 given up the idea of seeing the chefs-d'oeuvre of Italy. 
 His little treasure increased, and he was already plan- 
 ning for his journey, when, one fine morning, he discov- 
 ered that the purse, on which he founded all his hopes, 
 had been stolen. 
 
 It was useless to be discouraged ; it was better to try 
 to forget this misfortune, and begin again to work, and 
 to economize. Poussin thought so, and went back to 
 Paris, which he had left to draw nearer to Italy, painting 
 in every town through which he passed. He was then 
 poor and unknown, when, in 1632, the Jesuits cele- 
 brated the canonization of St. Ignatius and St. Francis 
 Xavier. The pupils of the fathers wished to present the 
 church of their college with several pictures, represent- 
 ing the miracles of these two saints ; and a great num- 
 ber among them being acquainted with Nicholas, offered 
 him the charge of painting the pictures, which he thank- 
 fully accepted. In six days Poussin painted six pic- 
 tures, in distemper, which were much admired, by 
 amateurs, for their boldness. Among the amateurs 
 was the Cavalier Marin, an Italian poet, who, ready to 
 return to Italy, offered to take the young painter with 
 him. Nicholas would gladly have accepted this offer ; 
 but he had promised many works, and, wishing to keep 
 his word, he remained. 
 
 As soon as he had finished the pictures he had engaged 
 to paint, he set out for Italy. He was not very rich ; 
 
PAINTERS. 283 
 
 but by working a little on the way, he arrived at Rome, 
 without having entirely exhausted the sums received for 
 his last pictures. He found the Cavalier Marin, who 
 cordially received him, recommended him to Cardinal 
 Barberini, and advised him to study not only the chefs- 
 d'oeuvre of paintings, but the ancient and modern poets, 
 and the lives of the great men. Poussin felt that he 
 should find noble inspirations in these readings, and fol- 
 lowed the advice of his protector. Unhappily for him, 
 the poet died soon after his arrival in Rome, and Cardi- 
 nal Barberini went to France. 
 
 Poussin, left without friends and without support, 
 was reduced to such straitened circumstances that he 
 turned his attention to architecture, sculpture, and all 
 kinds of painting, to obtain a livelihood. Painting was 
 then beginning to decline in the city of the fine arts. 
 The manner of Michael Angelo Caravaggio was substi- 
 tuted for the sublime style of Raphael ; and the first 
 pictures which Poussin brought forward caused him to 
 be recognized as an opponent to the new method, of 
 which many amateurs had declared themselves partisans : 
 these pictures were not well received. Poussin, seeing 
 the hope which he had of gaining a name as soon as he 
 became acquainted with artists and connoisseurs, vanish, 
 experienced the most cruel torments which can be in- 
 flicted on a man of genius ; he doubted himself, and 
 questioned whether he should still continue to struggle, 
 or abandon his pencil forever. 
 
284 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 At this time he became acquainted with a French 
 painter named Dughet, who enjoyed considerable repu- 
 tation in Rome. This painter had a daughter, beautiful 
 and good, and very courageous ; she appreciated Pous- 
 sin's talent, sustained and consoled, and, having married 
 him, made him conscious of his own merit. Nicholas 
 went to work with renewed energy, and perseveringly 
 combated the enemies of good taste. Many chefs- 
 d'oeuvre from his pencil pleaded the cause of art: the 
 Death of Germanicus, the Taking of Jerusalem by 
 Titus, the Pest of the Philistines, Eliezer before He- 
 bekah, the Will of JEudamidas, the Rape of the 
 jSabines, JZsther fainting before Ahasuerus, Moses 
 trampling Pharaoh's Crown under foot, and the 
 Triumph of Neptune . 
 
 The Count Cassiano, of Pozzo, having engaged him 
 to paint the Seven /Sacraments, was so much pleased 
 with the manner in which Poussin treated the subject that 
 he vowed eternal friendship, introduced him to nobles 
 with whom he was acquainted, and granted a favor 
 more precious still the use of his cabinet of antiques. 
 It was from the study of the chefs-d'oeuvre of antiquity 
 that Poussin drew that beau-ideal, which, characterizing 
 his smallest works, seems to make Raphael live again 
 in him. 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu ordered pictures for his palace 
 from Poussin ; the compositions of the French artist 
 were received with enthusiasm in France, and inspired 
 
PAINTERS. 285 
 
 the cardinal with the desire of bringing back to his na- 
 tive country this genius, of which Rome was beginning 
 to be proud. Poussin received the brevet of first painter 
 to the king, and an invitation to go to Paris to decorate 
 the grand gallery of the Louvre. Poussin hesitated 
 about leaving his dear retreat to take possession of the 
 dignities which were offered him. Louis XIII. wrote a 
 most flattering letter ^o persuade him to come, and M. 
 de Chanteloup, who was then at Rome, urged the great 
 painter so strongly to accompany him to France, that 
 he consented to go at the end of the year 1640. 
 
 Louis XIII., forewarned of his arrival, sent one of 
 his carriages, gave him the most gracious reception, and 
 an apartment in the Tuilleries. The painter paid hom- 
 age to the king by his beautiful picture, the Will of 
 Eudamides, which is now in the Museum at Rouen, 
 and was gratified with a pension of three thousand 
 francs. Cardinal Richelieu was no less friendly to the 
 artist. But Poussin, like other superior men, could 
 not escape envy. Jacques de Fouquers, a Flemish 
 painter, who was protected by the queen, had been 
 promised the decoration of the Louvre : he was displeased 
 with the new comer, who was, he thought, encroach- 
 ing upon what he called his rights, which he resolved 
 to claim. Lemercier, the first architect of the king, 
 showed himself equally hostile to Poussin, because he had 
 found it necessary to change the compartments of the 
 arched roof, which were too massive for his designs. 
 
286 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Simon Vouet, a painter of note, to whom the French 
 school was indebted for its first glory, was jealous of 
 Poussin's success, which seemed to place him in the 
 second rank of painters. Vouet's pupils took part with 
 him, and Poussin, who valued nothing so much, after 
 painting, as the quiet of a peaceful life, exempt from 
 trouble and intrigue, soon regretted the happy days 
 which he had passed at Rome. 
 
 On the other hand, he was continually interrupted in 
 his painting, and occupied with details relative to the 
 decoration of the Louvre, too insignificant for him. 
 However, he finished the Supper -, and the Miracle of 
 St. Francis Xavier; but tired of perplexities and an- 
 noyances to which he was continually subject, he solicit- 
 ed permission to return to Rome, under pretext of ar- 
 ranging his affairs, and persuading his wife to take up 
 her abode in France. Permission being granted, he 
 hastened to depart. One thing, however, troubled him ; 
 he had promised the king and the cardinal that he would 
 return ; but as he did not hurry himself in the arrange- 
 ment of his affairs, he heard of the death of Richelieu, 
 and soon after of that of Louis XIII. Thus freed from 
 his obligations, he determined not to leave Rome, the 
 country of his adoption and the cradle of his glory. 
 
 He continued to enjoy the title of first painter to the 
 king, under Louis XIV., and he justified this title by 
 the advice which he gave to young French artists, who 
 came to Rome to perfect themselves, and by the excellent 
 
PAINTERS. 287 
 
 models which he sent to France. The fine genius of 
 Poussin developed itself in proportion as he advanced 
 in his career. His first works were a little hard and 
 dry, but he corrected these faults, and chose those sub- 
 jects in which Nature displayed her beauties. With- 
 out losing the elevated taste which the study of the 
 antique had given him, he put a grace, a charm, a cer- 
 tain melancholy poetry into his compositions, which 
 touch the heart, and awaken meditation, Eurydice 
 stung by a Serpent, while Orpheus, near her, is sing- 
 ing the Praises of the Gods, the Remains of Phocion 
 expelled from A.ttica, Diogenes breaking his Cup, the 
 Feasts of Ceres and of Bacchus, Boaz and Ruth, ad- 
 mirable pictures, which added to Poussin's glory, were 
 painted immediately after his return to Rome. 
 
 This artist never became rich, like many other cel- 
 ebrated painters whose history we have written. He 
 was very simple in his tastes, and preferred easy circum- 
 stances to a great fortune. He lived in a modest re- 
 treat, which was embellished by the tender cares of his 
 wife, and the visits of sincere friends, whose conversa- 
 tion was his relaxation from labor ; and when obliged to 
 mingle in society, he felt ill at ease, and gladly returned 
 to his pleasant retirement. The superfluities of a pom- 
 pous life had no value in his eyes : he worked for glory, 
 and not for money. He was accustomed to write on 
 the back of a picture the va'lue at which he estimated it, 
 and regularly sent back all that was offered over and 
 above his price. 
 
288 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 Potissin loved his art so much that, although he was 
 considered the first painter of the age, he continued to 
 study Nature ; and when he left his studio, he went into 
 the country to find some charming site, some smiling 
 landscape, with which to ornament the groundwork of 
 a picture. Very often he brought home stones, mosses, 
 grass, branches of trees, &c, which he had collected in 
 these excursions, because he thought that a painter could 
 not be too careful in the truthful rendering of the 
 smallest details. 
 
 Poussin worked too assiduously : his health was im- 
 paired, and an attack of paralysis warned him that the 
 end of his career was approaching. After this he fin- 
 ished his fine picture of the Samaritan, which he sent 
 to M. de Chanteloup, to whom he was tenderly attached. 
 In the letter which accompanied the picture, the painter 
 spoke of his approaching end, and told his friend that, 
 without doubt, the picture would be the last which he 
 should have the pleasure of painting for him. He 
 worked only a few hours a day, for his hand soon tiring, 
 no longer obeyed his inspirations ; which, however, re- 
 mained as vivid and as luminous as in the prime of 
 his youth. The death of his amiable and beloved com- 
 panion was a terrible blow, which he bore with resigna- 
 tion, in the hope of soon meeting her in another world. 
 Work was a great assistance to him ; and suffering as 
 he was, he finished the Four Seasons, which he had 
 sketched during his sickness. 
 
PAINTERS. 289 
 
 While thus occupied, Poussin seemed to regain new 
 life, and the four pictures finished, he, taking advan- 
 tage of the last rays of the nearly extinguished lamp, 
 undertook the Deluge, a sublime composition, in which 
 he surpassed all that he had previously done. This last 
 was his monument of glory. The Deluge was hardly 
 finished, when a new attack of paralysis deprived the 
 illustrious artist of the use of both hands. He languished 
 for some time, awaiting his last hour with calmness 
 and in Christian faith, and consoling his relations and 
 friends for the loss they were about to sustain. He 
 died a few days before he had attained his seventy- 
 second year, and the news of his death cast a shadow 
 of grief over Rome, where he was tenderly loved. The 
 luxury and pomp which would have been so contradic- 
 tory to the simplicity of his life, were not displayed at 
 his funeral, but the whole population honored him with 
 regrets. 
 
 Poussin, one of the most distinguished painters of 
 Europe, was the greatest which France has produced. 
 No master had the glory of teaching him, and he left no 
 pupils. A composition, rich and learned at the same 
 time, correct drawing, ingenuous ideas, an elevated and 
 powerful style, a good tone of color, well-chosen sites, 
 sweetness and poetry, distinguished the works of this 
 illustrious man. His genius was aided by patient 
 study ; geometry, perspective, architecture, anatomy, 
 occupied him in turn ; then history, poetry, the study 
 19 
 
 "^ 
 
 o 
 
 UFI7BESIT] 
 
290 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 of the antiques, and the contemplation of nature, filled 
 all the time not absolutely employed in the culture of 
 his art. 
 
 He was equally successful in history, landscapes, 
 mythology, and religious paintings. He modelled stat- 
 uettes and bas-reliefs, and if he had applied himself to 
 sculpture, there is no doubt that he would have succeed- 
 ed as well as in painting. Connoisseurs think that his 
 taste for the antique carried him too far, and imagine 
 they recognize some of the statues, which served him as 
 models, in his pictures ; they also think that he put too 
 many folds in his draperies, and had not a sufficient 
 variety of positions for his heads ; but such defects, if 
 they really exist, do not prevent the name of Poussin 
 from shining among the most illustrious names in the 
 history of art. 
 
 This modest and disinterested artist was not less dis- 
 tinguished by his virtues than by his talents. Upright, 
 generous, a friend of justice and of truth, he never 
 courted the favor of the great, nor humiliated himself 
 by honoring their qualities, much less by flattering their 
 vices. He preferred family joys and the pleasures of 
 industry to the intrigues of court. Although he lived 
 modestly, his house was the rendezvous of artists, and 
 persons in the highest stations of life were pleased to 
 visit and converse with Poussin, who was not only an 
 honest man, in all the acceptation of the word, and an 
 eminent painter, but an amiable and witty savant. 
 
PAINTERS. 291 
 
 One evening Cardinal Mancini came to see him. The 
 conversation was prolonged to a late hour. Poussin was 
 working, and the cardinal could but admire the wonder- 
 ful facility with which he conversed while his pencil 
 continued to move. Finally the prelate bade adieu to 
 the artist, who took the lamp, and reconducted his noble 
 visitor. The cardinal, confused at having given so 
 much trouble, asked pardon, and said, 
 
 "Truly, M. Poussin, you are to be pitied that you 
 have no valet." 
 
 "And I, my lord," replied the painter, "I pity you, 
 with all my heart, that you have so many." 
 
 Rome possesses very fine works of Poussin, but the 
 greater number are in France. The great man left no 
 posterity : he adopted the young brother of his wife, 
 Guaspre Dughet, whom he treated as a son. Dughet 
 is sometimes called Poussin : he inherited some of the 
 talent of his brother-in-law for landscape. A delicate 
 and spirited touch, a perfect knowledge of perspective, 
 coloring full of freshness and truth, an uncommon ability 
 to represent storms, the appearance of motion of trees, 
 and well-chosen sites, render his pictures valuable. 
 We are assured that many of the figures which animate 
 his landscapes are from the hand of Poussin. 
 
292 THE PKINCES OF AKT. 
 
 CLAUDE LOEKAIN. 
 
 Claude Gele*e, better known as Claude le Lorrain, 
 was born in the diocese of Toul, in the year 1600. 
 Though his parents could scarcely support themselves 
 by their labor, they wished to have their son educated, 
 and sent him to school when quite young ; but Claude, 
 notwithstanding all the attention he paid to the lessons 
 of his teacher, made so little progress that his father 
 was discouraged in thinking to make something of his 
 child superior to a poor hireling like himself. He then 
 thought he would give him some calling, and put him, 
 at ten years of age, as apprentice to a pastry-cook, who 
 tried to teach him to mix a sauce and prepare a hash. 
 
 Claude was no happier there than he had been at 
 school ; he had no memory ; it often happened that he 
 did entirely the contrary to what he had been told, and 
 his blunders often caused serious losses to his master, for 
 whidi the poor child had to pay by receiving bad treat- 
 ment and hard words. The journeymen, his comrades, 
 who thought him an idiot, fit only to amuse them, made 
 fun of him. Claude bore it all with patience and ex- 
 treme sweetness, or rather he appeared not to perceive 
 that he was the object of their raillery, for his face was 
 always calm and smiling. 
 
 However, he was not at all satisfied at the pastry- 
 cook's, but his apprenticeship was to last three years ; 
 
PAINTERS. 293 
 
 the contract had been made, and there were no means of 
 breaking it. As he could neither season a ragout, take 
 charge of a roast, heat an oven, make pastry, or an- 
 swer a customer, the cook, not knowing how to employ 
 him, sent him on errands, to carry articles which had 
 been ordered, into the city. 
 
 Claude had a little more liberty in this way, and less 
 regret that he had no inclination to learn the culinary 
 art. He had no wish to play with children of his age ; 
 besides, his little companions played him so many bad 
 tricks, which they called fun, that he was much happier 
 alone than in their society. But in his walks through 
 the city he had found a pleasant amusement ; he stopped 
 at the second-hand shops, and was very happy when he 
 saw some pictures in the midst of cast off clothing and 
 old furniture. If by chance he found some landscape, 
 lighted by the sun's rays among these pictures, which 
 were generally very ordinary, it was a perfect feast for 
 the poor little pastry-cook : he forgot himself while stop- 
 ping to admire, and returned home later than usual, at 
 the risk of receiving a severe reprimand. 
 
 One day, when he had a superb dessert to carry to one 
 of the richest houses in the city, he saw two new pic- 
 tures, which appeared to him very beautiful, on the stall 
 of one of the second-hand shops. He thought to go 
 past and stop on his way back, because he had been 
 told to deliver the pastry quickly ; but the temptation 
 was stronger than his courage ; he stopped, saying, 
 
294 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 " A few moments will detract nothing from the Duality 
 of the dessert ; besides, I can walk quick enough to make 
 up for stopping." 
 
 Claude had kept the basketful upon his head, but as 
 it troubled him to look at the pictures which pleased 
 him very much, he put the basket on a post near him. 
 He meant to remain only five minutes, but not until 
 standing there a full half hour did he think of his mas- 
 ter's orders. What were his surprise and grief, the 
 pasfry and basket had both disappeared ! Claude knew 
 that he had done wrong, and wept bitterly : but his tears 
 availed nothing, and he returned to his master in de- 
 spair. 
 
 What excuse could he make? For an instant he 
 thought of saying that thieves had stolen his basket, and 
 beaten him ; but as he had never told a lie, he felt 
 ashamed to make that excuse, and simply told the truth. 
 The pastry-cook was furious : he had taken extra pains 
 in preparing that dessert, for which he expected to be 
 highly complimented ; therefore the disobedience of his 
 apprentice caused more loss than that of the money. 
 He could have forgiven him, perhaps, if it had been in 
 his power to make good the loss, but the time failed, and 
 Claude was driven from the house. 
 
 He packed his few clothes in sadness, and went away, 
 knowing no more of pastry-cooking than he did when 
 he entered. The little success he had had, did not en- 
 courage him to follow the profession which his parents 
 
PAINTERS. 295 
 
 wished to give him, and he could think of no other 
 which pleased him better. He was then only thirteen 
 years old ; but he was large and strong, and resolved to 
 seek a situation as a domestic. Claude was honesty it- 
 self, and that was the reason why the pastry-cook had 
 so long borne with his awkwardness : his new masters 
 soon discovered his honesty, but sooner his awkwardness 
 and absence of mind ; for he had not the cunning to 
 dissimulate his faults, or to flatter those who could help 
 him in getting excused. 
 
 He was turned away ; and the poor child, not knowing 
 what to do to earn his living, joined a party of young 
 people, who were going to Italy to seek their fortune. 
 They lived on the way by begging, and sometimes ma- 
 rauding ; but this vagabond life~did not please Claude, 
 and when they arrived at Genoa, he separated from his 
 companions, saying he would look for work in that city. 
 
 By good luck he engaged himself to Augusto Tassi, 
 a painter of some talent. The misfortunes of Claude 
 had not rendered him more active or more skilful,- but 
 Augusto, appreciating his sweetness of temper and his 
 good will, was indulgent to him. The young man, 
 touched with this kindness, attached himself sincerely to 
 the artist, who, on his part became attached to him. 
 
 Tassi, observing that Claude paid extreme attention 
 to his painting while arranging and cleaning the studio, 
 one day proposed, laughing, to teach him the principles 
 of his art. Claude said he should be glad to paint some 
 
296 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 nice pieces like his master, but he said it without any 
 enthusiasm. The painter, for amusement's sake, put a 
 pencil into the young man's hand, and showed him how 
 to use it. 
 
 At first Claude's intelligence was as rebellious to the 
 painter's instructions as it had been to that of the 
 schoolmaster and the pastry-cook; but without being 
 discouraged, every day, at the appointed hour, he went 
 to the painter, humbly begging him to guide him in his 
 efforts. 
 
 At length a ray of light seemed to pierce the thick 
 darkness : Lorrain understood what had hitherto been 
 uselessly explained, and seized by a love for study, as 
 much more ardent as his ignorance was profound, he 
 did not allow himself an instant of repose. He be- 
 came, as if by enchantment, as active and able as he had 
 heretofore been the reverse : he performed his duties, as 
 a servant in a few hours, and went to the studio, where 
 after having prepared the pallet, or ground the colors, 
 for his employer, he set himself to work, and did not 
 leave until called away. In the evening, when he went 
 to his little room, he took either his books or his pencils, 
 and gave to sleep only the time absolutely necessary for 
 the preservation of his health. 
 
 Very soon he manipulated so well that Tassi not only 
 had no fear about his learning, but understood that he 
 would some day surpass him. Nature had enclosed the 
 genius of Claude in a rude and shapeless envelope, as she 
 
PAINTERS. 297 
 
 conceals a diamond in rocks or clay : the envelope was 
 broken, and the precious stone was about to shine forth 
 in all its brilliancy. 
 
 But Lorrain was not to be an artist like those of 
 which Italy had produced so many. His pencil was not 
 to produce great historical scenes, nor mythological com- 
 positions, nor religious subjects, with their soft poetry, 
 but representations of the wild or graceful sights which 
 met his view : it was the prairie enamelled with flowers, 
 the brook running under the foliage, the torrent bound- 
 ing in foam upon the rocks, the threatening shadows of 
 great woods, the village situated upon the declivity of a 
 verdant hill, the moon shedding her sweet light upon 
 the sleeping landscape, or the sun pouring a flood of 
 warm rays upon blooming nature. 
 
 The first time that Claude saw one of those sites, 
 which he daily admired, come out from his canvas, he 
 was filled with rapture ; and when he heard his master 
 say that he would not disown the picture, he was still 
 more delighted, for he had often been jeered at, and dis- 
 trusted himself. Claude could not be a pastry-cook, or 
 a domestic : he was a painter. 
 
 Augusto Tassi had done much for Lorrain, as ex- 
 cept for his kindness, perhaps the genius of his poor 
 servant would never have been roused ; but up to the 
 time of which we are speaking, Claude's only teacher 
 was Nature. He studied with a patience and love, of 
 which it is difficult to form an idea. Rising before day, 
 
298 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 he watched the first caresses of the vivifying sun as it 
 drank up its mantle of dew, and compared the different 
 appearances which the landscape takes at different hours 
 of the day. This was no more the young man of sweet 
 and honest face, but unintelligent and distracted, whom 
 Augusto had taken as servant out of pity ; it was an 
 artist from whom nothing escaped, and who knew how 
 to make his brush express all he had remarked. 
 
 However, whether the distrust which he had of 
 himself remained, or whether he had some real diffi- 
 culty, Claude worked slowly and hesitatingly : he often 
 painted and rased the branch of a tree, or a stone 
 during a whole day : sometimes after working an en- 
 tire week, his picture had not in the least advanced ; but 
 when it was once finished, it was a jewel worthy of 
 being offered to the greatest kings. 
 
 This artist was in the habit of softening his touches, 
 and mixing them in a sort of varnish, which covered all 
 his picture. No painter understood aerial prospective 
 better than he, nor has any one made fresher tints, or 
 succeeded in rendering the soft morning light, the ar- 
 dent midday heat, or the gentle evening zephyrs, more 
 charmingly or more truly. So Claude Lorrain is con- 
 sidered the best landscape painter in the world. 
 
 His reputation grew rapidly ; a great number of young 
 people vied with each other for the honor of becoming 
 his pupils. His change in position did not make him 
 forget the misery and humiliation of his youthful days, 
 
PAINTERS. 299 
 
 nor the gratitude which he owed his benefactor. His 
 pictures were sought for by all amateurs, and brought 
 high prices ; and if he did not become immensely rich, 
 it was because the recollection of the privations which he 
 had endured, and seen his family endure, rendered him 
 humane and generous. He never saw an old man or a 
 child asking alms without shedding tears, and pouring 
 the contents of his purse, however well filled, into their 
 hands. 
 
 Honest, industrious, obliging, full of sweetness and 
 kindness, he was endeared to his pupils, esteemed and 
 beloved by everybody. He often spoke of his sad child- 
 hood, of his being continually repelled, of his ignorant 
 and timid youth, without affectation, as well as without 
 shame ; and no person knew how to encourage artists 
 better than he. 
 
 Claude Lorrain died at Rome, at the age of eighty- 
 two years, without having laid aside his pencil ; and his 
 last works are no less remarkable than his first. Be- 
 sides landscapes, this artist painted marine views very 
 finely ; but he never succeeded in figures. He said to 
 his friends, "I sell the landscape, and give the figures 
 into the bargain." 
 
 A great number of those which animate his pictures 
 are due to the pencil of Philip Lauri de Courtois, or 
 some other of his pupils. Lorrain was too superior a 
 man not to render to his disciples the justice due them, 
 and he had no fear in confiding to their care the finish- 
 
300 THE PKINCES OF ART. 
 
 ing of his admirable pictures. Claude was also an ex- 
 cellent engraver : he has engraved many pieces which 
 are much esteemed. 
 
 The life of this celebrated man is one which we love 
 to put before the eyes of the young : it teaches those 
 whose intelligence is not active, that there are no diffi- 
 culties which patience and perseverance cannot over- 
 come, and it shows those who are highly favored by 
 Nature, that they should never make sport of those to 
 whom she has been sparing of her gifts. 
 
 LE SUEUK. 
 
 Eustache le Sueur, whose name is placed beside that 
 of Poussin, was born in Paris, in 1617. He passed his 
 childhood in the studio of his father, who was a sculptor, 
 and manifested great taste for modelling and drawing. 
 Very soon he left the clay for the pencil ; and his happy 
 inclination for painting strengthening from day to day, 
 they placed him, young as he was, under the care of 
 Simon Youet, who was then enjoying a great reputation, 
 merited by real talent, and which was undisputed until 
 Poussin returned to France. Simon had a great num- 
 ber of pupils ; but Sueur was distinguished among them 
 all, as much by the progress he made as by the sweet- 
 ness and goodness of his character. He learned so rap- 
 idly of Vouet, that in a few years he excelled his teacher. 
 
PAINTERS. 301 
 
 Some chefs-d'oeuvre of the great masters being shown 
 him, he studied them with the closest attention, recog- 
 nized their beauties, and endeavored to imitate them. 
 Then he ceased copying Simon Vouet, and followed 
 only the counsels of his genius. 
 
 He had scarcely left the studio of his master when he 
 made himself known through eight drawings for tapes- 
 try, in which he displayed much imagination, taste, and 
 talent. He became a member of the Academy of St. 
 Luke, for which he painted a St. Paul curing the 
 /Sick, which produced great sensation. Poussin, who 
 came from Italy at the time, saw the picture, and pre- 
 dicted a most glorious career for Sueur. Poussin, at- 
 tracted by the sweet and noble face of the young artist, 
 by his distinguished manners, and by the gratitude with 
 which he received advice, paid particular attention to 
 him during the two years which he spent in France ; 
 and when, overcome by ennui and chagrin, he returned 
 to Rome, he promised Sueur not to forget him. He 
 kept his word, sent him valuable sketches at different 
 times, and expressed the most sincere and tender interest 
 in the letters which accompanied them. 
 
 Mutual sympathy attracted these two men to each other, 
 whose characters had several points of resemblance. 
 Sueur, like Poussin, loved work, simplicity, and peace ; 
 he hated intrigue, and disdained to answer the calumnies 
 of his enemies. He was married at the age of twenty- 
 five : he would have been happy if he could have earned 
 
302 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 an honorable livelihood for his family by works worthy 
 of his talent ; but he had powerful rivals, who were in 
 vogue, and, not being able to obtain orders of impor- 
 tance, he designed frontispieces of books, images of the 
 Virgin, and other current works, which could have been 
 done as well by ordinary artists. However, he did not 
 complain : he waited for better times. 
 
 His portraits of Louis XIV., of Cardinal Mazarin, 
 and of the queen-mother, gained him favor at court, and 
 Anne of Austria named him her painter. Some time 
 after this promotion he was engaged to represent the 
 life of St. Bruno, which she wished to present to the 
 Carthusian nuns of Paris. 
 
 Sueur, faithful to his habit of studying nature thor- 
 oughly, retired to the convent, in order to study the 
 character of the Carthusians, and make his work truth- 
 ful. He succeeded wonderfully well ; and this history 
 of the holy founder, divided into twenty-two pictures, 
 in which the serenity of soul and holy quiet become the 
 portion of those who renounce the world to follow their 
 divine Master, are portrayed with an ineffable charm. 
 These pictures, which placed Sueur in the rank of the 
 first French artists, did not fail to excite the envy of 
 other painters. They were astonished ; they were irri- 
 tated to see a young man go out of the beaten track, 
 and rush into an abandoned way, with no other guide 
 than the luminous train left by the incomparable Raphael. 
 
 Sueur had taken Raphael for master and model : his 
 
PAINTERS. 303 
 
 pure types, beau-ideal, rich arrangement, firm and soft 
 touches, had attracted the young painter, and he became 
 so much attached to the manner of the divine artist, 
 that, although he had never seen Italy, he could have 
 been taken for one of Raphael's best pupils. The Sleep 
 of St. Bruno, his Refusal of Episcopal Dignity, the Death 
 of this pious founder of the order of the Carthusians, 
 were, and deserved to be, admired. The reputation of 
 Sueur increased, and in 1649 he was engaged to paint 
 the picture which the corps of jewellers offered to 
 Notre Dame of Paris on the 1st of May. 
 
 Some years previous, on a like occasion, Le Brun 
 had painted a St. Andrew, then a St. Stephen, which 
 were much praised for their beauty. Sueur chose for 
 his subject St. Paul converting the Gentiles at Ephe- 
 susy and his picture was a chef-d'oeuvre, very superior 
 to those which had been previously painted. He re- 
 ceived the sum of four hundred francs from the fraternity 
 of jewellers. It was very little for such a piece of work ; 
 but the price was fixed, and, in point of renown, it was 
 a great advantage to Sueur. The Abbe of Marmon- 
 tiers, near Tours, desired two pictures in honor of St. 
 Martin, and these surpassed $t. Paid, of Notre Dame. 
 The Condemnation of St. Gervais and St. Protais 
 appeared afterwards ; and this picture alone suffices to 
 render the name of the painter glorious. In this com- 
 position Sueur displayed all the beauty and richness of 
 his pencil, and all the elevation of his soul Angels are 
 
304 THE PEINCES OF ART. 
 
 no purer or more beautiful than those two young peo- 
 ple : as they appeared before their judges, their foreheads 
 seemed illumined by a ray of eternal felicity. This pic- 
 ture can be regarded as Sueur's best, and one of the 
 most admirable things which the French school has 
 ever produced. 
 
 Sueur was then selected to decorate the mansion of 
 President Thorigny, since called the Lambert Mansion, 
 and he rivalled Le Brun, the first painter of the king. 
 Until then he had only painted church pictures, and 
 Le Brun was thought to be unequalled in mythological 
 painting. This master, who possessed both talent and 
 genius, was surprised and jealous at being surpassed by 
 Sueur, whose grand and fruitful imagination, firm and 
 delicate touch, excited the admiration of the numerous 
 visitors to the mansion. Le Brun feared that the 
 painter would take advantage of this circumstance to 
 recommend himself to the king ; but he did not know 
 Sueur, who, satisfied with the glory which he had 
 acquired, loved his independence too much, and was too 
 happy in the modest sufficiency which he owed to his 
 pencil, to desire the favors of the court, to which he 
 knew one must often sacrifice his conscience, and always 
 his liberty. 
 
 After having decorated the Thorigny mansion, Sueur 
 returned to painting religious subjects, which he pre- 
 ferred to all others, and produced a great number of 
 pictures of extraordinary beauty. Shut up in his studio, 
 
PAINTERS. 305 
 
 and assiduously devoted to his work, he turned a deaf 
 ear to the calumnies with which his rivals attempted to 
 blacken his character, and answered them only by pro- 
 ducing chef-d'oeuvre after chef-d'oeuvre. Surrounded 
 by the care and affections of the woman he had chosen, 
 of his brother-in-law, of Peter, Philip, and Anthony 
 Sueur, his three brothers, who worked with him, and 
 shared his joys and his sorrows, cherished by his pupils, 
 esteemed by all who knew him, Sueur found comfort 
 and consolation in their esteem and tenderness. Besides, 
 he hoped that calmness and disinterestedness would at 
 length impose silence upon the envious : he was deceived : 
 the greater he showed himself the more his enemies 
 tried to injure him. 
 
 He was animated for the contest, besides incited by 
 his love for art, and the firm and ardent wish to perfect 
 himself; he was never satisfied with his work, but al- 
 ways hoped to do better, and those who loved him vainly 
 begged him to husband his strength, which his great 
 assiduity to labor was visibly injuring. Sustained by 
 his courage, Sueur did not perceive it; besides, his 
 health had always been very delicate, and he paid but 
 little attention to suffering, to which he was accustomed. 
 But sorrow finished what fatigue had commenced. 
 Sueur lost his wife, his brothers married, and the void 
 caused by their absence plunged him into profound 
 melancholy. His enemies, imagining his sufferings, 
 formed new intrigues against him, and the artist, entirely 
 20 
 
306 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 discouraged, fell into a state of languor, which he judged 
 to be mortal. 
 
 He died at Paris, the 1st of May, 1655, on the island 
 of Notre Dame, where he had lived, and was interred 
 in the church of St. Etienne-du-Mont. 
 
 He is the last of the painters of the French school, 
 who, without having left France, had the talent to resist 
 the academic rules which Youet and La Hyre, his mas- 
 ters, had substituted for the great Italian traditions, and 
 knew how to preserve, as intact as possible, that eleva- 
 tion of sentiment and that purity of execution which are 
 the appendages of great schools. 
 
 SALYATOR EOSA. 
 
 Salvator Rosa, painter, musician, and poet, was born 
 in the year 1615, in the village of Arenella, near Na- 
 ples. His parents, hoping to prepare him for some 
 useful occupation, placed him at a convent school. Sal- 
 vator was very intelligent, and soon gained the affection 
 of the fathers, whom he astonished by the rapid progress 
 he made in all the studies they gave him. As he grew 
 older, his taste for study seemed to diminish : they no 
 longer saw him with his books in his hands, while his 
 companions gave themselves up to the sports of their 
 age ; but they were sure to find him cutting figures upon 
 the trees in the garden with his penknife, or tracing 
 
PAINTERS. 307 
 
 drawings in the sand- walks, or portraits, with charcoal, 
 upon the walls. 
 
 The good fathers took this pastime of Salvator for a 
 caprice, which they supposed would not last long, and 
 contented themselves with gently begging him not to 
 neglect his lessons : the child promised to learn them as 
 well as heretofore, and he kept his word. As his mem- 
 ory was prodigious, he required but a few moments for 
 study, and did not cease drawing, as well during the 
 hours of the class as during the recreations. 
 
 Antonio Rosa was a mason, and pretended to be an 
 architect; his wife belonged to a family of painters, but 
 ordinary painters, and so poor, for the most part, that 
 Antonio, who earned scarcely enough to carry on his 
 own business, had often been called upon to assist them. 
 No one despised painting more than he did ; therefore he 
 was much grieved when he heard that Salvator, in whom 
 he had such great hopes, manifested a decided taste for 
 the profession which could not furnish bread to his uncles. 
 He recommended the fathers to punish his son severely 
 every time he was caught in the act of drawing or 
 painting. 
 
 Salvator was ordered to give up his pleasant amuse- 
 ment ; and as he continually disobeyed, punishments and 
 imprisonment recalled him to duty. He was indignant 
 at such tyranny, and revenged himself by drawing cari- 
 catures of his masters upon the walls. The surprise 
 of the fathers was very great when they saw themselves 
 
308 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 thus disfigured, and they thought of driving Salvator 
 from the convent; but one of them, who loved young 
 Rosa very much, obtained his pardon, and succeeded in 
 persuading him to study. Salvator promised to submit 
 to the orders of his teachers as well as he could, and 
 again took up his studies. The fathers, satisfied with 
 his submission, abated their severity, and granted him a 
 day's vacation from time 'to time. Rosa lived only for 
 this day. No sooner was he at liberty, than he ran to 
 the house of Greco, the painter, one of his uncles, and 
 painted, under his direction, until it was time to return 
 to his studies. This lasted a year or so, after which 
 Salvator, although fearing the severity of his father, 
 declared that he had no taste for the career which had 
 been marked out for him, and did not wish to complete 
 his studies. The fathers advised Antonio Rosa not to 
 constrain his son any longer, but to take him home. 
 However, Antonio was not to be persuaded : he obsti- 
 nately refused to give Salvator what was necessary for 
 drawing and painting, hoping by so doing to make him 
 ashamed of being idle, and that he would return to the 
 books which he had given up. But it was all to no 
 purpose. Salvator, not being permitted to follow his in- 
 clination, gave himself up to music and painting. 
 
 Some of the songs which he composed became popu- 
 lar in Naples : they promised him fortune and glory, so 
 that Antonio allowed him to do as he wished. Salvator, 
 overjoyed, ran to Greco to get instruction ; very soon, 
 
PAINTERS. 309 
 
 however, he perceived that his uncle was only a poor 
 dauber, and he thought of finding some better teacher, 
 when his sister married Francazano, pupil of Ribera. 
 Salvator left his uncle's studio for that of his brother-in- 
 law ; yet he was much more indebted to the study of 
 nature than to his new teacher. A painter and poet, 
 he knew how to express all the emotions excited in him 
 by the contemplation of the*beautiful sky of Naples, 
 the blue waves which bathe the city, Vesuvius, which 
 threatens it, and the picturesque sites which surround it. 
 He far surpassed Francazano, or rather what he did 
 could not be compared to the works of any other 
 painter, because his manner was all his own ; and An- 
 tonio, notwithstanding all his prejudice against the art, 
 could not help being proud of the genius apparent in 
 the pictures signed Salvatoriello (little Salvator) , he 
 hoped that the young man would enjoy a brilliant posi- 
 tion as soon as he became well known. Before this ex- 
 cellent father's dream of happiness was realized, death 
 summoned him to the spirit land. 
 
 Added to the heavy loss which Salvator, who was 
 scarcely seventeen years old, experienced by his father's 
 death, was the care of the family, which it was impossi- 
 ble for him to sustain, with all his good will and untir- 
 ing assiduity. With all his efforts, he only succeeded 
 in preventing his mother, sister, and two brothers, still 
 very young, from dying of hunger. His mother and 
 sister, afflicted at being burdensome to him, and fear- 
 
310 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 ing that the necessity of painting rapidly might injure 
 the development of his talent, entered the house of 
 the Viceroy of Naples as domestics, and public charity 
 aided him in the care of his little brothers. Francazano 
 had not succeeded in becoming renowned, and the most 
 frightful misery reigned in this house. Too proud to 
 complain and to beg, the sister of Salvator languished 
 for a time, and died of want. 
 
 It would be impossible to express the sufferings of 
 Salvator, endowed, as he was, with a loving heart, a 
 proud and generous nature, and a genius which needed 
 only to expand : the sombre tint, and the sharp and 
 wild sadness, which predominate in his pictures, are to 
 be attributed to these sufferings. He worked unre- 
 mittingly, and sold his pictures to a dealer in Naples, 
 who did not half pay for them ; and when the poor child 
 had laid aside the sum necessary for the purchase of 
 colors and brushes, to begin something else, he had 
 hardly enough left to support himself. 
 
 One day the city was in a state of excitement, on ac- 
 count of the arrival of Lanfranc, the celebrated painter 
 of cupolas, who came to decorate the dome of St. 
 Janvier. Everybody desired to see the artist of whom 
 they had heard so much, and Salvator, more anxious 
 than others, tried to find the imprint of glory upon his 
 head. He followed the great painter with the crowd, 
 when he saw him stop at the show window of the dealer 
 with whom he traded. Lanfranc's attention was drawn 
 
PAINTERS. 311 
 
 to Salvator's landscapes, and calling the trader, he con- 
 versed with him in an undertone of voice. Salvator, 
 pale with emotion, had crowded so near the speakers, 
 that he did not lose a word of their conversation. When 
 Lanfranc expressed a desire to see the author of the 
 pictures, he could have said " Here am I ; " but a glance 
 at his shabby clothing prevented, and fearing that the 
 dealer might see and expose him, he ran away with all 
 his might. However, he did not fail to return in the 
 course of the day, and what he had foreseen, came to 
 pass : the dealer offered him rather, more for the small 
 picture which he brought, than he had hitherto done. 
 Salvator became difficult, and boasted of the merit of 
 his picture, and after some conversation, the trader paid 
 him a good price for it. Young Kosa ran immediately 
 to a tailor's, chose a complete suit, and the next day 
 presented himself to Lanfranc. He was well received, 
 and Lanfranc gave him an order for some landscapes, 
 for which he paid him liberally. The dealer in pic- 
 tures, who had so long disdained his productions, began 
 to be anxious for them. After having suffered so much 
 on account of the poverty of his family, as well as him- 
 self, fortune at length smiled upon Salvator. He 
 thought himself rich as soon as his works procured him 
 an honorable living. He asked no more, but Lanfranc 
 advised him to go to Rome, to perfect himself by the 
 study of the great masters. He furnished him with the 
 means, and recommended him to a very rich gentleman, 
 
312 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 who was much pleased to take Salvator with him, and 
 bear all the expenses of his journey. 
 
 The young painter saw, with astonishment, the won- 
 ders collected in the city of arts : he could never tire 
 of admiring the masterpieces of Michael Angelo, of 
 Eaphael, and the beauties of antiquity ; but he fell sick 
 in the midst of his studies, and was obliged to return to 
 Naples. The reputation which Lanfranc gave him in 
 his native city, allowed him to lead an honorable and 
 comfortable, if not a luxurious life. He painted some 
 historic pictures, which were much esteemed ; but his 
 combats, marine views, and, more than all, his land- 
 scapes, were greatly admired. 
 
 Salvator excelled in representing wild and picturesque 
 scenery, mountains, abrupt gorges, torrents, and forests, 
 and he knew how to animate all these with figures, 
 which made his pictures grandiose or terrible. He 
 painted with such facility, that he often finished a pic- 
 ture in a day. When he needed a model, either for 
 attitudes or features of his figures, he placed himself 
 before a large mirror, and studied the changes which joy, 
 laughter, or grief impressed upon his features. 
 
 He continued to cultivate poetry, and his house was 
 the rendezvous of the literati of Naples. But it is in 
 the nature of man to be unsatisfied : Salvator longed to 
 be in Rome, which he had seen but imperfectly, and of 
 which he thought continually in his dreams of poetry 
 and art. He readily accepted the invitation of Car- 
 
PAINTERS. 313 
 
 dinal Brancaccio to go to Rome. When he left Naples, 
 he thought it would be for a long time, although he 
 loved his independence more than he loved Rome. He 
 had been in Rome only a short time, when he became 
 very melancholy, under the gilded ceilings of the palace 
 Brancaccio, and he returned to Naples. 
 
 Fate seemed to drive Salvator from one of these cities 
 to the other ; he had hardly established himself in Na- 
 ples, before he sighed for Rome : this time fortune and 
 glory united with the poetic charm of the Eternal City, 
 in the imagination of the painter. However, he was 
 aware of the obstacles which he would have to sur- 
 mount, in order to get a name in this capital, where 
 illustrious artists, Italian and foreign, were in great 
 renown. He expected to become known through his 
 poetry, as well as by his painting, and the event proved 
 that he had judged rightly. 
 
 It was the time of Carnival. Salvator, disguised as a 
 juggler, ran through Rome several days, dealing out 
 to his rivals epigrams and satires, full of wit and pi- 
 quancy. Soon this witty dealer in puffs, whose muse 
 could not be embarrassed or intimidated, became the 
 talk of the city. Everybody wished to see and to hear 
 him. He overcame all adversaries by his ridicule, and 
 when he was sure of the public favor, and showed his 
 pictures, he was saluted with enthusiastic acclamations. 
 At first, curiosity caused his paintings to be sought by 
 the nobility of Rome ; then, appreciating the merit of 
 
314 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 them, his pictures came in vogue, and his fortune was 
 made. He lived like a noble, and in great splendor. 
 But this opulence came late, and if it flattered the self- 
 love of the painter, it was far from satisfying his heart ; 
 his mother and his dear sisters had died without partak- 
 ing his good fortune. He had become rich and cele- 
 brated ; now he wished to go back to Naples, where he 
 had been poor and unknown. 
 
 He was in the city when the revolution of 1647, 
 which put the fisherman, Masaniello, in the place of the 
 Viceroy of Philip IV., broke out. The recollection of 
 his past misery, and the love of liberty, threw Salvator 
 into the popular party : he sustained the revolt with all 
 his eloquence of speech, and counselled Masaniello. 
 But a change in public opinion took place at the ap- 
 proach of Philip's troops, and the Fisher King was put 
 to death by those who had proclaimed him their chief. 
 Salvator fled to Rome, where he painted his most cel- 
 ebrated pieces, Democritus among the Tombs, Pro- 
 metheus on Mount Caucasus, the Death of Socrates, 
 the Death of Regulus, and Human Fragility and 
 Fortune : these were allegories, in which the authorities 
 recognized a satire, and signed an order for the imprison- 
 ment of Salvator. 
 
 Then he took refuge in Florence, where the Grand 
 Duke intrusted him with the decoration of the Pitti Pal- 
 ace. For ten years Rosa enjoyed the favor of the prince, 
 who was charmed by his triple talent of musician, paint- 
 
PAINTERS. 315 
 
 er, and poet. There was no court festival to which he 
 was not invited, and all the Florentine nobility gathered 
 daily in the sumptuous dwelling of the artist. He tore 
 himself away from his calm and happy mode of living, 
 and went to Rome, where he found the old hatred and 
 envy which had so often pursued him : his enemies went 
 so far as to deny his genius for painting and poetry ; 
 but he answered their defiance, by composing the poem 
 of Envy, and painting a magnificent Battle, for Louis 
 XIV. This picture is now in the gallery of the Louvre. 
 
 Jealousy had nothing to oppose to such proofs, and 
 was silent. Salvator, who was considered one of the 
 greatest artists of his age, showed himself worthy of the 
 homage paid him by producing more beautiful pictures, 
 the most celebrated of which is the Ghost of Samuel 
 appearing to Saul, to announce his approaching end. 
 
 Salvator was still young, but his years of sorrow had 
 doubled their weight in the balance of death ; his eye- 
 sight failed, then his memory ; the pencil, lately so sure 
 and so bold, trembled in his hand. Disease of the liver 
 caused him great suffering, then dropsy set in, and this 
 great artist died in 1673, at the age of fifty-eight years. 
 
 He preserved his good humor, or rather his habit of 
 raillery, to the last. People were deceived by his false 
 gayety, and did not know that he had chosen this iron 
 mask to dissimulate all the bitterness with which the 
 first years of his life had filled his heart. All the artists, 
 and persons of wit and taste, were drawn to his house by 
 
316 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 the charm of his conversation ; and those who sought 
 only pleasure, were also happy to be admitted, for 
 Salvator gave magnificent entertainments and feasts, 
 over which he presided with great hospitality. He dec- 
 orated the lower rooms of his house, and transformed 
 them into a theatre, where he caused to be played, and 
 played himself, pieces of his own composition. The 
 great prices which were paid for his pictures enabled 
 him to be hospitable and generous as a prince. He 
 who once could scarcely live by the fruits of his labor, 
 now took pleasure in demanding enormous prices for his 
 pictures, and such was his reputation that his preten- 
 sions were not considered exorbitant. 
 
 Colonna sent him a purse full of gold in return for a 
 picture. Salvator acknowleged this generosity, by an- 
 other picture more beautiful than the first. Colonna 
 sent a larger purse. The painter sent a third picture, 
 then a fourth, each being paid in the same way. Finally, 
 upon the reception of the fifth, Colonna sent two purses 
 to Salvator, saying that he ceded the honor of the com- 
 bat to him, and recognized in him an inexhaustible 
 genius. 
 
 No painter has ever been able to imitate Salvator 
 Kosa. However, with regard to correctness and ele- 
 gance, his figures are sometimes wanting ; but there is a 
 truth, boldness, and grandeur about them which adds 
 much to the effect of the landscape which they are des- 
 tined to animate. The battles which he has painted, 
 
PAINTERS. 317 
 
 make the beholder shudder, so true has he represented 
 the fury of the combatants, the sufferings of the wound- 
 ed, the confused entanglement of men and horses, and 
 all the horrors which seem present to the spectator. The 
 Banditti of Salvator are perfectly represented. It is 
 probably owing to this fact that his enemies accused him 
 of having been one of a band of brigands, who had 
 taken refuge in the Abruzzi after the revolution ; but 
 nothing is more preposterous than such an idea. Sal- 
 vator found the greater part of the types which he has 
 rendered in so striking a manner in his fertile and bold 
 imagination. 
 
 This great artist was buried in Rome. 
 
ENGRAVERS. 
 
 ALBEET DURER. 
 
 ALBERT DUEER, the glory of the German school, was 
 born at Nuremberg, in 1471. His father, originally 
 from Hungary, had come to Germany several years pre- 
 vious to perfect himself as a silversmith, and had be- 
 come very skilful in his profession, which is almost an 
 art. Albert was his second son, and fourteen other 
 children were afterwards born to him. Durer educated 
 this numerous family in the fear of God and the love 
 of virtue, and wishing to give a position to each of his 
 children, he studied their characters and their tastes 
 with great care. Albert soon distinguished himself by 
 his intelligence, sweetness of disposition, and application 
 to study, and was chosen by his father as his successor. 
 When he was sufficiently advanced in his studies, his 
 father began to teach him silversmithery. 
 
 The young Durer did his best to satisfy his teacher, 
 and after some years he worked in gold and silver with 
 
 (318) 
 
ENGRAVERS. 319 
 
 much taste. But jewellers then being often brought 
 into connection with painters who furnished them with 
 designs to execute upon the pieces of jewelry, Albert, 
 after having admired their talent for a long time, tried 
 to copy some little pictures which ornamented his father's 
 house. At first he did not succeed ; but persevering, 
 he was at length not dissatisfied with his own unas- 
 sisted attempts, and he expressed to his father his desire 
 of leaving silversmithery for painting. Durer, seeing 
 in this wish only the caprice to which young people too 
 easily yield, reprimanded his son, and forbade him to 
 occupy himself thereafter with any other business than 
 that which was given him. 
 
 Albert promised to obey, and kept his word for some 
 months ; then, one day, when his mother bought a beau- 
 tiful picture of the Madonna, he forgot the order which 
 he had promised to respect, and passed a part of the 
 night in copying this picture. The light of his lamp 
 betrayed him, and while he was finishing his Madonna 
 in great joy, the door of his chamber opened, and his 
 father entered. Albert, confused by his disobedience, 
 rose, and approaching his father, humbly asked pardon. 
 
 " I thought I had a submissive and respectful child in 
 you," said his father, "and see with regret that I de- 
 ceived myself." 
 
 " Take back those words, I beg you, my father : I ven- 
 erate, I love you, and had no intention of offending you. 
 Since you forbade me, I have not touched a pencil, and 
 
320 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 I know not how it was that seeing this beautiful picture, 
 I entirely forgot the promise I made you. You see me 
 ashamed and penitent; pardon me for this once." 
 
 " This is no time for a long conversation ; your broth- 
 ers and sisters are sleeping ; do as they do : tomorrow 
 I will speak with you." 
 
 Albert bowed, and the silversmith had not regained 
 his chamber when the sketch was put away and the 
 lamp extinguished. But, although the young man 
 would gladly have slept, as his father ad vised him, the 
 thought of the reprimand, which, without doubt, he 
 would receive on the morrow, kept his eyes open during 
 several hours. It was not because Durer was a severe 
 father ; he always spoke reasonably with his children ; but 
 precisely because he was so good, a severe word from 
 his mouth was a dreaded punishment. Morning came, 
 Albert rose, and after family prayers, he followed his 
 father into his study. But instead of the reproaches 
 which he was expecting to receive, he saw his father 
 reach out his hand to him. He took it, and pressed it 
 to his lips with tenderness and gratitude. 
 
 " I have been thinking much of you the past night, 
 my son," said the father, "and I really think that you 
 would succeed as a painter. Come with me; I will 
 take you to Hupse Martin." 
 
 Great was Albert's joy : Hupse Martin was in great 
 reputation at Nuremberg as a painter and an engraver, 
 and it had long been the dream of the young silversmith 
 
ENGRAVERS. 321 
 
 to be admitted into his studio at some future day as his 
 pupil. The young Durer became skilful in engraving, 
 and began to paint under the direction of this master. 
 Afterwards he left the studio of Martin for that of 
 Michael Wolfmuth, who occupied himself more par- 
 ticularly in painting : here he devoted himself to the 
 study of painting and architecture. 
 
 He remained with Wolfmuth until he was twenty-one 
 years old, working assiduously, and surpassing all the 
 hopes which this learned master had conceived of him. 
 Not content with simple listening to the instructions of 
 his teacher, Albert daily wrote a summary of them, to 
 fix them in his memory ; and, thanks to this precaution, 
 he was able some years after to publish treatises on per- 
 spective, and civil and military architecture, works 
 which added much to his reputation. 
 
 In 1492 he went to Colmar, where the brothers 
 Schonganer, astonished to find so much talent in a 
 young man, gave him a friendly reception. 
 
 After working two years at Colmar, he returned to 
 Nuremberg, where he married the daughter of an able 
 machinist. Albert Durer had a manner of painting and 
 engraving which was independent of his masters, and 
 people soon perceived that his works were very superior 
 to all which had been done by German artists up to that 
 time. 
 
 Albert was happy to have succeeded by his talent in 
 creating a sure position, while he was devoid of the am- 
 21 
 
322 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 bition which often torments men of genius : he wished 
 but for one thing ; to live in peace, and to have the 
 society of a loving and devoted wife in the hours not 
 spent in work. This wish, however, was not realized : 
 the temper of the companion whom he had chosen was 
 often crabbed and disagreeable, and whatever concessions 
 the artist made, he could not calm her excitement, or 
 free himself from her persecutions. 
 
 It was a cruel discovery for Albert : his life was 
 poisoned ; he did not complain, but he felt a disappoint- 
 ment and chagrin, which neither fortune nor honors 
 could console. The Emperor Maximilian, having seen 
 some of his pictures, invited him to his court, where he 
 received him with great distinction. He confided the 
 decoration of his palace to him, and his esteem for the 
 man soon equalled his admiration for the artist, and he 
 took pleasure in seeing him work, and conversing with 
 him. 
 
 One day, when Albert was drawing a group upon the 
 wall, the emperor observed that the ladder upon which 
 he was standing was not firm, and he made a sign to 
 one of the noblemen of his suite to hold it. The noble- 
 man, surprised to receive such an order, stepped back, 
 and calling a domestic, told him to hold the ladder. 
 Maximilian dismissed the servant by a gesture, and ap- 
 proaching the painter, did not leave the foot of the lad- 
 der until the drawing was finished. When Albert 
 descended, the emperor created him a nobleman, and 
 
ENGRAVERS. 323 
 
 gave him three escutcheons of silver, upon an azure 
 ground. 
 
 "Know," said he to his courtiers, "that the title 
 which I give Albert Durer does not raise him in the 
 esteem of any sensible man ; for he is indebted to his 
 talent for a grand and illustrious nobility, which none 
 of you possess. An act of our imperial pleasure can 
 make a count or a duke, whilst it is God who makes 
 the artist." 
 
 Albert was at court for a considerable time, and 
 made not only fine paintings, but a great number of his 
 engravings, which are much esteemed. Returning to 
 Nuremberg, he continued to seek consolation for his 
 ennui in work : he could scarcely fill the orders which he 
 received ; kings and princes disputed for his pictures and 
 his engravings. Charles V., and Ferdinand, King of 
 Hungary, loaded him with presents and testimonies of 
 their affection, and all persons of note in Nuremberg 
 desired his friendship. But, though polite and kind to 
 all, he was far from being prodigal of the title of friend ; 
 for he understood the qualities it required, and the duties 
 it imposed. It is seen by the letters which he wrote 
 from Italy to Senator Pirkheimer that he considered this 
 friend as another self, and did not fear to open his entire 
 heart to him. 
 
 Let us speak of this journey to Italy, which was the 
 happiest period in the life of our artist. Albert Durer 
 was thirty-four years old when he wished to visit the 
 
324 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 country of Michael Angelo, of Raphael, and of Titian. 
 Those who truly loved him, had been advising him for a 
 long time to make this artist pilgrimage ; but his wife, 
 who took a cruel pleasure in thwarting his tastes, pre- 
 vented him, as long as she could, from following the 
 advice of his friends. Albert was endowed with supe- 
 rior intelligence, a great and noble soul, and a powerful 
 genius ; but he was a friend of peace and tranquillity, 
 and had the habit of obeying his exacting companion. 
 He could not find strength in his heart to shake off his 
 yoke. Pirkheimer was obliged to insist, repeatedly, in 
 order to decide him to go to Italy. 
 
 At length he set out, and was received with honor in 
 all the different cities through which he passed ; for his 
 name had become popular. His reception at Venice 
 was enthusiastic : all the artists of that beautiful city 
 hurried to see Albert, whose magnificent engravings 
 were well known in Italy. The fraternity of German 
 merchants obtained the preference over all the guilds 
 who requested pictures from the illustrious visitor. Al- 
 bert painted a St. Bartholomew for his countrymen 
 residing in Venice : it was so much liked, that they paid 
 him one hundred and ten florins for it. All the Vene- 
 tian nobles wished to see the able painter, and disputed 
 with each other the honor of showing him hospitality. 
 Surrounded by so many flattering testimonies, Durer 
 forgot for a time his domestic troubles ; so that those 
 who saw him were as much enchanted by his charming 
 
ENGRAVERS. 325 
 
 spirit, his affectionate manners, and his amiable gayety, 
 as by his rare talent. 
 
 Leaving Venice, he went to Bologna, where he met 
 with the same reception. In this city he devoted some 
 time to the study of perspective, and was preparing to 
 go to Rome, when business obliged him to return to 
 Germany. With regret, he bade adieu to the beau- 
 tiful sky of Italy, under which his heart had expanded 
 and his genius developed, and sadly turned towards 
 Nuremberg. His first work, after his return, was his 
 own portrait, which he sent to Raphael. He had had 
 the pleasure of seeing this incomparable artist, and both 
 had promised to renew their acquaintance at Rome. 
 This portrait, painted in water-colors, upon a very fine 
 cloth, was much admired by Raphael, who thanked 
 Albert in a very friendly letter, and sent him some 
 valuable drawings. 
 
 Albert worked unceasingly as painter, engraver, and 
 sculptor, during fourteen years, and his work improved 
 daily. Sincerely religious, he took pleasure in repre- 
 senting sacred subjects. The Christs of Albert Durer 
 are so marvellously beautiful and divine, that faith alone 
 could have given them that character of sublime sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 The Saviour on the Gross, surrounded by a glory, 
 and having emperors, cardinals, and popes at his feet, 
 is considered the chef-d'oeuvre of Albert Durer. As to 
 engravings, St. Jerome meditating upon the Scrip- 
 
326 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 tures, is, perhaps, the most beautiful which art has thus 
 far produced. 
 
 Albert Durer made another journey in 1520 : this 
 time he went to Holland. Here he became acquainted 
 with Lucas de Leyde, who offered him his house, and 
 with whom he lived for several months, as with an af- 
 fectionate brother. When they parted they exchanged 
 portraits, and, though separated by distance, never for- 
 got each other. The German artist met with a kind 
 reception at Antwerp, where a large number of painters 
 were united in a corporation. They gave a banquet in 
 his honor, to which the public were admitted, so that 
 every one could see the illustrious stranger. The crowd 
 did not fail to make use of the privilege ; and Albert, 
 in his Journal of Arts, where he gives an account of 
 his journey, says, pleasantly, that the crowd broke the 
 sides of the tables in pressing to see the celebrity. 
 
 Durer went to Aix-la-Chapelle, to be present at the 
 coronation of Charles Y. The emperor desired to see 
 Durer, and to manifest the esteem he had for his talent. 
 Emboldened by the kindness of Charles Y., Albert 
 offered the Arch-duchess Margarita (daughter of Maxi- 
 milian, who had so nobly revenged the artist of the 
 disdain of a nobleman) the portrait of her august father, 
 which she refused. Albert was much hurt by her re- 
 fusal ; and, having experienced some other contrarieties, 
 the painter returned to Nuremberg. 
 
 There he resumed his chain ; for the woman who had 
 
ENGRAVERS. 327 
 
 the honor of bearing his name had never learned to 
 appreciate his genius and his excellent qualities ; and, 
 never thinking of correcting her bad temper, that she 
 might render his life more pleasant, she grew worse, 
 and as age advanced, became a scourge to him. Al- 
 bert had need of all the patience and resignation of a 
 Christian to bear the punishment of each day. At first, 
 he had flattered himself that he could get used to it ; 
 but it is impossible to get used to being misjudged 
 and persecuted. His trouble wore upon him, his health 
 gave way, and, after languishing for some years, he 
 died, at the age of fifty-seven. 
 
 In the works of Albert Durer, we admire his lively 
 and fruitful imagination, elevated genius, firm execution, 
 brilliant coloring, and fine finish. However, he could 
 not entirely avoid the defects of his fellow-countrymen 
 painters too stiff drawing, and too dry a style. It is 
 to be regretted that Durer had somewhat neglected the 
 study of costume, and the art of perspective in the grada- 
 tion of his colors. But he was not the less a man of 
 great genius. He was self-made, and balanced the im- 
 perfections of his labor by sentiment, energy, and pas- 
 sion, which make dramas and poems of his works, 
 whether they be paintings or engravings. 
 
 Albert Durer left a great number of engravings upon 
 wood, copper, iron, and tin, and a multitude of pen and 
 pencil drawings. He succeeded perfectly in portraits 
 and in landscapes, which are admired for piquancy and 
 
328 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 grace. This artist was the best engraver of his age ; 
 and Eaphael was so struck by the beauty of his engra- 
 vings, that he employed Antonio Raimondi to study the 
 manner of the skilful stranger. 
 
 Albert Durer has written upon geometry, perspective, 
 and the proportions of the human figure. 
 
 CALLOT. 
 
 Jacques Callot was born at Nancy in 1593 : he was 
 the son of a herald-at-arms in Lorraine, who, designing 
 him to follow the same career as himself, placed him at 
 school to learn to read and write. At first all went on 
 well : Jacques was not wanting in docility or intelligence ; 
 but as he grew up he felt a great aversion for the pater- 
 nal profession an aversion which came from the desire 
 which he had for another, which, without doubt, he would 
 not be allowed to follow. His greatest pleasure and 
 most assiduous occupation was to draw portraits and fig- 
 ures of all sorts upon his books and his copy-books, which 
 his comrades contemplated with curiosity and astonish- 
 ment, and to engrave, with the aid of his knife, upon 
 the school tables, or upon the trees in the garden. 
 
 This decided taste for drawing disquieted his father, 
 who expressly forbade it, and took away the pencils and 
 patterns which the child had procured. This was a 
 great sorrow to Jacques, who wished to be obedient ; 
 
ENGRAVERS. 329 
 
 but an irresistible force impelled him : he bought new 
 pencils and new copies, and worked with more ardor 
 than before. For a while he concealed his work so well 
 that no one suspected what he was doing : at length he 
 was less cautious, and his father surprised him. Jacques 
 experienced the harshness and severity which Mr. Callot 
 had acquired at camp. A culpable thought came into the 
 mind of the child ; it was to tear himself away from the, 
 authority which he could not brave with impunity : he* 
 thought and thought, and finally, one fine day, eluding 
 the watch which was kept over him, fled from the pa- 
 ternal roof. 
 
 He walked as fast as his twelve-years'-old legs could 
 carry him, and went out of the city, and through the 
 fields, for fear of being pursued. Evening came, and 
 the poor child, tired, hungry, and frightened, began to 
 repent of the step he had taken. He thought of the 
 trouble which his absence would cause his kind and 
 tender mother, and he reproached himself bitterly for 
 the tears which she would shed ; and, yielding to a good 
 inspiration, he turned back. But he had walked so 
 much already that he could not hope to regain the city 
 before the next day, unless he should meet some coun- 
 tryman, who would give him a ride in his wagon ; in 
 which case he would be obliged to acknowledge his 
 flight, and the motives which induced it. What would 
 his father, who, unfortunately, was then at home, say? 
 What punishment would he inflict on his rebellious son ? 
 
330 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 Jacques was afraid, and, not knowing what was best 
 to do, seated himself upon the grass which bordered the 
 wood, and burst into tears. Despite his sorrow, despite 
 the phantoms with which his imagination, fed by fright- 
 ful stories, peopled the darkness, becoming more and 
 more profound, he fell asleep. At daybreak he was 
 awakened by a company of Bohemians, who surrounded 
 him, and who were surprised to find a well-dressed 
 child, at this early hour, sleeping alone by the side of 
 the road. Callot was startled at first by the sight of 
 these odd people, but regaining his courage, told them 
 what he had done. 
 
 Instead of persuading him to return to his parents, at 
 the risk of being reprimanded and punished, the vaga- 
 bonds invited him to go with them to Italy. Jacques, 
 though ignorant as children in general of his age, knew 
 that there were many great painters in Italy ; and as his 
 greatest fear the previous evening had been isolation, 
 he joyfully accepted the proposition of the Bohemians. 
 He was strengthened by a frugal breakfast ; and without 
 daring to think of his parents, from whom he was going 
 so far away, perhaps for a very long time, followed his 
 strange companions. 
 
 The company had more than one resource for getting 
 their living. The old women told fortunes, the young 
 girls sang and danced in the public squares, the children 
 begged, and the men gave themselves up to marauding, 
 or levied contributions upon travellers. All this was 
 
ENGRAVERS. 331 
 
 far from the honest principles in which Jacques had 
 been educated, and he often regretted his flight, for 
 which he never could forgive himself. However, he 
 never took a part in the reprehensible actions of the Bo- 
 hemians with whom fate had associated him ; when they 
 halted, he drew the most expressive faces of his compan- 
 ions, and the adventurers sold these drawings to the 
 traders in the towns and villages through which they 
 passed. 
 
 Finally the company reached Italy. Callot had made 
 great progress without a teacher, and without other 
 models than those which nature offered ; and his draw- 
 ings, imperfect as they were, had such a character of 
 originality and truth, that he found a ready sale for 
 them. He had long been thinking of separating from 
 the Bohemians, but as he was more closely watched by 
 them than he had been in his father's house, was un- 
 able to execute his plan. When he arrived at Florence, 
 he was so happy as to gain the interest of one of the 
 Grand Duke's officers, who took him under his protec- 
 tion ; and after the departure of the Bohemians, placed 
 him with an engraver of renown, named Kemigio Canta 
 Gallina. Jacques was very grateful to this teacher for 
 his lessons, and profited so well by them, that in a very 
 short time he was able to copy from the great masters, 
 a work which developed his talent and formed his taste. 
 
 After some years passed in Florence, Callot set out 
 for Rome, where he hoped to perfect himself in his art. 
 
332 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 He was scarcely established in that city, when he was 
 recognized by some merchants from Nancy, who were 
 his father's friends. Jacques was glad to hear from his 
 family, of whom he was thinking continually, and whom 
 he hoped to see again, when, as an artist of renown, he 
 should have a right to his father's indulgence. But the 
 honest merchants did not wish to let the opportunity 
 pass of taking the prodigal son back to the parents who 
 had been so much afflicted by his loss, and when they 
 had finished their business, they forced him to return 
 with them. 
 
 The desire of embracing his mother, and obtaining 
 pardon for his flight, which had weighed upon his con- 
 science, prevented his resisting, and sustained him dur- 
 ing a part of the journey, but the nearer he approached 
 Nancy the more fearful he was of meeting his father. 
 Although still very young, he had had so much experi- 
 ence since leaving his father's house, that his reason 
 was much matured : his fear was not alone on account 
 of the reproaches and punishment which he expected, 
 but the efforts which would be made by both father and 
 mother to draw him from the career which he had 
 chosen ; and the taste which had shown itself in his 
 earliest childhood, had now become an irresistible vo- 
 cation. 
 
 He continued his route for some days in a state of 
 mental disquiet which deprived him of sleep and ap- 
 petite. At length he left the merchants, and returned to 
 
ENGRAVERS. 333 
 
 Italy. Here the thought of those whom he never ceased 
 to cherish, and from whom he had gone the second time, 
 like an ungrateful child, slackened his ardor. About a 
 week after he had left the merchants, they informed his 
 oldest brother, who immediately pursued him. He over- 
 took him before leaving France, and had no difficulty in 
 taking him back to Nancy. 
 
 Callot was wrong in anticipating a severe reception : 
 is there not in the heart of a father and mother an in- 
 exhaustible source of indulgence and love ? Introduced 
 by his brother, Jacques threw himself at his father's 
 feet, weeping. M. Callot, after vainly endeavoring to 
 retain the coldness which he had assumed, opened his 
 arms to the fugitive, and pressed him tenderly to his 
 breast. His mother did not try to dissimulate the joy 
 with which her heart was filled by the return of her be- 
 loved boy ; she did not think to reproach him for the 
 tears which he had caused her to shed ; she saw him 
 once more ; all was forgotten. 
 
 It is true that M. Callot spoke again of the noble pro- 
 fession of arms ; but Jacques, having answered by pro- 
 ducing the drawings which he had brought from Italy, 
 his father could not help admiring them, and taking the 
 hands of his son, he said, 
 
 " Be an artist, since you desire it." 
 
 Jacques, delighted to have gained the consent of his 
 father, dared not speak immediately of returning to Italy : 
 he felt that it was his duty to consecrate some time to 
 
334 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 his family, who had been so saddened by his absence ; he 
 therefore took lessons in engraving of Philip Thomassin 
 that his progress need not be retarded. Painting had 
 few attractions for him, but he soon excelled in engra- 
 ving ; and when at length he went back to Italy, the 
 Grand Duke of Florence, Cosmo II., charmed by his 
 talent, retained him at his court, and loaded him with 
 honors and presents. 
 
 At Florence, Callot began to engrave those small 
 subjects, in which he displayed the fulness and delicacy 
 of his genius. His reputation grew rapidly, and he 
 could not return to Lorraine until after the death of 
 Cosmo, who esteemed him highly, and was very fond 
 of him. Many advantageous offers were made to in- 
 duce him to remain in Florence, which love for his own 
 country caused him to decline : he returned to Nancy, 
 where the Duke de Lorraine received him with honor, 
 and assured him a brilliant position. Jacques con- 
 tinued to work with as much ardor as if he had yet to 
 make his name and fortune. 
 
 Louis XIII., having heard of him, invited him to 
 come to his court, and confided to him the care of en- 
 graving the Siege of Rochelle, and taking of the Island 
 of Bhe*. Callot acquitted himself of the task in such a 
 manner as to merit the praise of all connoisseurs, and to 
 obtain the favor of the king and of Cardinal Richelieu. 
 Some time after, a war, intended to crush the house of 
 Austria, broke out, and the city of Nancy was taken by 
 
ENGRAVERS. 335 
 
 the French troops. It is well known that Lorraine was 
 governed by the posterity of Gerard of Alsace, until the 
 year 1735, an epoch in which the treaty of Vienna re- 
 united it to France, on condition that Stanislaus Lec- 
 zinski, despoiled of the throne of Poland, should reign 
 until his death, over this duchy, erected into a kingdom. 
 
 Louis XIII. ordered Callot to represent the taking 
 of Nancy, as he had that of Rochelle and the Island of 
 Rlie* ; but Callot was not a Frenchman ; he was from 
 Lorraine. The defeat of the duke, his master, and the 
 disaster of his beloved city, grieved him, and he had no 
 idea that he should be asked to immortalize this defeat, 
 and this desolation, by his graver. He supplicated the 
 king to excuse him, and explained the motive of his un- 
 willingness to obey. One of the lords present at this 
 interview of the engraver with Louis XIII., thought 
 to please the king by trying to intimidate Callot with 
 threats. 
 
 "Sire, here is my right hand," said Jacques ; "you 
 can cut it off, and I swear to you that I would cut it off 
 myself, sooner than obey such orders of your majesty." 
 
 The king admired the courage and patriotism of the 
 artist, and promised to ask of him nothing which was 
 not in strict accordance with his honor, and offered him 
 a pension of three thousand francs to attach him to his 
 service. Callot thanked Louis XIII., and begged that 
 he would excuse him from accepting these propositions, 
 brilliant and flattering as they were, and allow him to 
 
336 THE PRINCES OF ART. 
 
 go back to Lorraine, so that no one should accuse him 
 of abandoning his country for those who were its de- 
 clared enemies, and that he could not reproach himself 
 for having left the Duke of Lorraine, vanquished, to live 
 on the benefactions of his conqueror. 
 
 Louis XIII., while he regretted the loss of this artist, 
 could not but admire his disinterestedness and the great- 
 ness of his soul, and gave him liberty to leave Paris 
 when he would. Jacques returned to Nancy, and re- 
 commenced his work : he died at the age of forty-two. 
 His engravings amounted to six hundred pieces. 
 
 No one has equalled this master in the art of repre- 
 senting the grotesque. Old men, beggars, lame peo- 
 ple, odd faces, were represented with the utmost correct- 
 ness. It is supposed that the time which he spent with 
 the Bohemians in his early youth, furnished him with 
 the types which he had reproduced, and varied so hap- 
 pily. The Fairs, Markets, Punishments, Tavern 
 Scenes, Miseries of War, the Great Street of Nancy, 
 &c., are among the works of Callot which are most 
 sought by amateurs. 
 
 The fecundity and fire of his genius, the expression of 
 his faces, the choice and distribution of his subjects, the 
 variety of his groups, in which there is no forced con- 
 trast, the facility of labor, the piquancy and newness 
 which he has given to the slightest details, place him 
 in the rank of the most celebrated artists. His conduct 
 at the court of Louis XIII. showed him as a noble and 
 
ENGRAVERS. 337 
 
 courageous citizen. Finally, his probity, the kindness 
 of his heart, his anxiety to succor the victims of war, 
 his compassion for all those who suffered, recommend 
 him to the esteem, as his talents recommend him to the 
 admiration of posterity. 
 22 
 
INDEX. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE FINE ARTS, l 
 
 ARCHITECTURE, 2 
 
 SCULPTURE, 4 
 
 PAINTING, 9 
 
 ENGRAVING, 18 
 
 ARCHITECTS AND SCULPTORS. 
 
 PHIDIAS, 20 
 
 PRAXITELES, .26 
 
 POLYCLETUS, 30 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI, 31 
 
 MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI, 44 
 
 BENEVENUTO CELLINI 79 
 
 CANOVA, 88 
 
 PAINTERS. 
 
 THE FIRST PAINTERS, 95 
 
 ZEUXIS. ARISTIDES, 98 
 
 PARRHASIUS. TIMANTHES, 103 
 
 APELLES, 107 
 
 PROTOGENES, 114 
 
 TITIAN. - GIORGIONE, 119 
 
340 INDEX. 
 
 RAPHAEL SANZIO, 142 
 
 CORREGGIO, 102 
 
 PAUL VERONESE, 1G7 
 
 GUIDO RENI 175 
 
 DOMENICHINO, 184 
 
 RIBERA, 202 
 
 VELASQUEZ, 217 
 
 MURILLO, 230 
 
 RUBENS, 243 
 
 VAN DYCK, 262 
 
 REMBRANDT, 209 
 
 ('LE POUSSIN, 279 
 
 ^CLAUDE LORRAIN, 293 
 
 LB SUEUR, SCO 
 
 SALVATOR ROSA, 306 
 
 ENGRAVERS. 
 
 ALBERT DURER, 318 
 
 CALLOT, 328 
 
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