: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.
u?
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
;:
IIVERSITT]
STAMPED BELOW
AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS
WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN
THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY
WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH
DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY
OVERDUE.
MAfl 291937
J
LD 21-100m-8,'34
YB 09471