Anecdotes of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors and Architects, and Curiosities of Art (Vol. 1 of 3)

WEST’S FONDNESS FOR SKATING.

There are other minor matters, says Cunningham, which help a man on to fame and fortune. West was a skillful skater, and in America had formed an acquaintance on the ice with Colonel Howe. One day, the painter having tied on his skates at the Serpentine, was astonishing the timid practitioners of London with the rapidity of his motions, and the graceful figure which he cut. Some one shouted “West! West!” It was Colonel Howe. “I am glad to see you,” said he, “and not less so that you came in good time to vindicate my praises of American skating.” He called to him Lord Spencer Hamilton, and some of the Cavendishes, to whom he introduced West as one of the Philadelphia prodigies of skating, and requested him to show them what was called “the Salute.” He performed this feat so much to their satisfaction that they spread the praises of the American skater all over London. West was exceedingly fond of this invigorating amusement, and used frequently to gratify large crowds by cutting the Philadelphia Salute. Cunningham says, “Many to the praise of skating, added panegyrics on his professional skill, and not a few to vindicate their applause, followed him to his easel, and sat for their portraits.”

WEST’S DEATH OF WOLFE.

A change was now to be effected in the character of British art. Hitherto, historical painting had appeared in a masking habit; the actions of Englishmen, says Cunningham, had all been performed, if costume were to be believed, by Greeks and Romans. West dismissed at once this pedantry, and restored nature and propriety in his noble work of “the Death of Wolfe.” The multitude acknowledged its excellence at once, on its being exhibited at the Royal Academy; but the lovers of old art, or of the compositions called classical, complained of the barbarism of boots, buttons, and blunderbusses, and cried out for naked warriors, with bows, bucklers, and battering rams. Lord Grosvenor was so pleased with the picture, that, disregarding the frowns of amateurs, and the cold approbation of the Academy, he purchased it. Galt says that the king questioned West concerning this picture, and put him on his defense of this new heresy in art. “When it was understood,” said the artist, “that I intended to paint the characters as they had actually appeared on the scene, the Archbishop of York called on Reynolds, and asked his opinion; they both came to my house to dissuade me from running so great a risk. Reynolds began a very ingenious and elegant dissertation on the state of the public taste in this country, and the danger which every innovator incurred of contempt and ridicule, and concluded by urging me earnestly to adopt the costume of antiquity, as more becoming the greatness of my subject than the modern garb of European warriors. I answered that the event to be commemorated happened in the year 1758, in a region of the world unknown to the Greeks and Romans, and at a period of time when no warriors who wore such costume existed. The subject I have to represent is a great battle fought and won, and the same truth which gives law to the historian, should rule the painter. If instead of the facts of the action, I introduce fiction, how shall I be understood by posterity? The classic dress is certainly picturesque, but by using it, I shall lose in sentiment what I gain in external grace. I want to mark the place, the time, and the people, and to do this, I must abide by truth. They went away, and returned again when I had finished the painting. Reynolds seated himself before the picture, examined it with deep and minute attention for half an hour; then rising, said to Drummond, ‘West has conquered; he has treated his subject as it ought to be treated; I retract my objections. I foresee that this picture will not only become one of the most popular, but will occasion a revolution in art.’ ‘I wish,’ said the king, ‘that I had known all this before, for the objection has been the means of Lord Grosvenor’s getting the picture; but you shall make a copy for me.’”

MICHAEL ANGELO.

Michael Angelo was descended from the noble family of Canosa. From his earliest infancy, he discovered a passion for drawing and sculpture. It is said that his nurse was the wife of a poor sculptor, or as some say, a mason. His father, Lodovico Simone Buonarotti, intended him for one of the learned professions, and placed him in a grammar school at Florence. Here young Angelo soon manifested the greatest fondness for drawing, and became quite intimate with the students in painting. The decided bent of his genius induced his parents, against their wishes, to place him at the age of fourteen under the instruction of Domenico Ghirlandaio. He made such rapid progress, that he soon not only surpassed all his fellow disciples, but even his instructor, so that he was able to correct Domenico’s drawing.

While pursuing his studies under Ghirlandaio, he was accustomed to visit the gardens of the Grand Duke, (Lorenzo the Magnificent) to study the antique. One day, when he was about fifteen years of age, he found a piece of marble in the garden, and carved it into the mask of a satyr, borrowing the design from an antique fragment. Lorenzo, on seeing the work, was struck with its excellence, and jestingly told the young Angelo that he had made a mistake in giving a full set of teeth to an old man. This hint was not lost; the next day it was found that the artist had broken one of the teeth from the upper jaw, and drilled a hole in the gum to represent the cavity left by the lost tooth. The first work executed by Michael Angelo, on his return to Florence from Bologna, where he had fled on account of the disturbances in the former city, was a Sleeping Cupid, in marble, which considerably enhanced his reputation; but so great was the prejudice in favor of the antique, that by the advice of a friend, Michael Angelo sent his statue to Rome, to undergo the process of burial, in order to give it the appearance of a work of ancient art, before it should be submitted to public inspection. This fraud, like many of a similar kind at this time practiced, succeeded completely; and the Cupid was eagerly purchased by the Cardinal St. Giorgio, for 200 ducats. It was not long before the Cardinal was told that a trick had been played upon him, and he sent a person to Florence, in order to ascertain, if possible the truth of the charge. The latter repaired to the studios of the different artists in that city, on the pretence of seeing their productions. On visiting the atelier of Michael Angelo, he requested to see a specimen of his work; but not having anything finished at the time, he carelessly took up a pen, and made a sketch of a hand. The Cardinal’s messenger, struck by the freedom and grandeur of the style, inquired what was the last work he had executed. The artist, without consideration, answered at the moment, it was a Sleeping Cupid; and so minutely described the supposed antique statue, that there remained no doubt whose work it was. The messenger at once confessed the object of his journey, and so strongly recommended Michael Angelo to visit Rome, that he soon after went to that city, on the express invitation of the Cardinal St. Giorgio himself. Here he executed several admirable works, among which the Pietá, or dead Christ, has been highly extolled for the great knowledge of anatomy displayed in the figure. He afterwards returned to Florence, where he executed his celebrated marble statue of David.

MICHAEL ANGELO AND JULIUS THE SECOND.

ST. PETER’S CHURCH.

Michael Angelo’s greatest architectural work was the cupola of St. Peter’s church. Bramante, the original architect, had executed his design only up to the springing of the four great arches of the central intersection. Giuliano di Sangallo, Giocondo, Raffaelle, Peruzzi, and Antonio Sangallo, had been successively engaged, after Bramante’s decease, to carry on the work; but during the inert sway of Adrian VI., and amid the catastrophes of Clement VII., little had been accomplished. At length Paul III. appointed Michael Angelo to the post of architect, much against his will, as he was then seventy-two years of age. He immediately laid aside all the drawings and models of his predecessors, and taking the simple subject of the original idea, he carried it out with remarkable purity, divesting it of all the intricacies and puerilities of the previous successors of Bramante, and by its unaffected dignity, and unity of conception, he rendered the interior of the cupola superior to any similar work of modern times. He was engaged upon it seventeen years, and at the age of eighty-seven he had a model prepared of the dome, which he carried up to a considerable height; in fact, to such a point as rendered it impossible to deviate from his plan; and it was completed in conformity with his design, by Giacomo della Porta, and Domenico Fontana. The work was greatly delayed in consequence of the want of necessary funds, or else Michael Angelo would have himself completed this great monument of his taste and skill. If we are indebted to Bramante for the first simple plan of the Greek Cross of St. Peter’s, and the idea of a cupola to crown the centre, still it must be allowed that to Michael Angelo is due the merit of carrying out the conception of the original architect, with a beauty of proportion, a simplicity and unity of form, a combination of dignity and magnificence of decoration, beyond what even the powers of Bramante could have effected.

Such was the unparalleled eminence which this wonderful genius attained in the three sister arts of sculpture, architecture, and painting. His chief characteristics were grandeur and sublimity. His powers were little adapted to represent the gentle and the beautiful; but whatever in nature partook of the sublime and the terrible, were portrayed by him with such fidelity and grandeur as intimidates the beholder. Never before nor since has the world beheld so powerful a genius. The name of Michael Angelo will be immortal as long as the peopled walls of the Sistine chapel endure, or the mighty fabric of St. Peter’s rears its proud dome above the spires of the Eternal city.

MICHAEL ANGELO’S FIRST PATRON.

Lanzi says that Lorenzo the Magnificent, desirous of encouraging the statuary art, then on the decline in his country, had collected in his gardens many antique marbles, which he committed to the care of Bertoldo. He requested Ghirlandaio to send him a talented young man, to be educated there, and he sent him Michael Angelo, then a youth of sixteen. Lorenzo was so pleased with his genius that he took him into his palace, rather as a relative than a dependent, placing him at the same table with his own sons, with Poliziano and other learned men who graced his residence. During the four years that he remained there, he laid the foundation of all his acquirements.

THE CARTOON OF PISA.

This sublime production has perished, and report, though not authenticated, accuses Baccio Bandinelli of having destroyed it, either that others might not derive advantage from its study, or, because of his partiality to Vinci and his hatred to Buonarotti he wished to remove a subject of comparison that might exalt the reputation of the latter above that of the former.

MICHAEL ANGELO’S LAST JUDGMENT.

Lanzi says, “In the succeeding pontificates (to that of Julius II.) Michael Angelo, always occupied in sculpture and architecture, almost wholly abandoned painting, till he was induced by Paul III. to resume the pencil. Clement VII. had conceived the design of employing him in the Sistine chapel, on two other grand historical pictures—the Fall of the Angels, over the gate; and the Last Judgment, in the opposite façade, over the altar. Michael Angelo had composed designs for the Last Judgment, and Paul III. being aware of this, commanded, or rather entreated, him to commence the work; for he went to his house, accompanied by ten Cardinals,—an honor, except in this instance, unknown in the annals of the art.” This sublime work was finished by Michael Angelo in eight years, and was exhibited in 1541. Vasari says that at the suggestion of Fra Sebastiano del Piombo, the Pope desired that it should be painted in oil; but Michael Angelo positively declined to undertake it, except in fresco, saying “that oil painting was an employment only fit for women, or idlers of mean capacity.” Varchio in his funeral oration says, “Such was the delicacy of his taste that no artist could please him; and as in sculpture, every pincer, file, and chisel which he used, was the work of his own hands, so in painting, he prepared his own colors, and did not commit the mixing and other necessary manipulations to mechanics and boys.”

Lanzi says that Michael Angelo must be acknowledged supreme in that peculiar branch of the profession (the nude), at which he aimed in all his works, especially in his Last Judgment. “The subject appeared rather created than selected by him. To a genius so comprehensive, and so skilled in drawing the human figure, no subject could be better adapted than the Resurrection; and to an artist who delighted in the awful, no story more suitable than the day of supernal terrors. He saw Raffaelle preëminent in every other department of the art; he foresaw that in this alone could he expect to be triumphant; and perhaps he indulged the hope that posterity would adjudge the palm to him who excelled all others in the most arduous walk of art.”

“The Last Judgment,” says Lanzi, “was filled with such a profusion of nudity that it was in great danger of being destroyed, from a regard to the decency of the sanctuary. Paul IV. proposed to whitewash it, and was hardly appeased with the correction of its most glaring indelicacies, by some drapery introduced here and there by Daniello da Volterra, on whom the facetious Romans, from this circumstance, conferred the nickname of the Breeches-maker.” Other corrections were proposed by different critics, and some alterations made. Angelo was censured for mixing sacred with profane history; for introducing the angels of revelation with the Stygian ferryman; Christ sitting in judgment, and Minos assigning his proper station to each of the damned. To this profanity, he added satire; in Minos, he portrayed the features of the Master of Ceremonies, who in the hearing of the pope, had pronounced this picture more suitable for a Bagnio than a church; and an officious Cardinal, he placed among the damned, with a fiend dragging him by the testes down to hell.

MICHAEL ANGELO’S COLORING.

The coloring of Michael Angelo has been generally criticised as being too cold and inharmonious, but the best critics now consider that it was admirably adapted to his design. His chief characteristics were grandeur and sublimity, and whatever partook of the sublime and the terrible, he portrayed with a fidelity that intimidates the beholder. It is an error to suppose that he could not color delicately and brilliantly when he chose. During his residence at Florence, he painted an exquisite Leda for Alphonso, Duke of Ferrara. Michael Angelo was so much offended at the manner of one of the courtiers of that prince, who was sent to bring it to Ferrara, that he refused to let him have it, but made it a present to his favorite pupil, Antonio Mini, who carried it to France. Vasari describes it as “a grand picture, painted in distemper, that seemed as if it breathed on the canvass”; and Mariette, in his notes on Condivi, affirms that he saw the picture, and that “Michael Angelo appeared to have forgot his usual style, and approached the tone of Titian.” D’Argenville informs us that the picture was destroyed by fire in the reign of Louis XIII. Lanzi says, “In chiaro-scuro, Michael Angelo had not the skill and delicacy of Correggio; but his paintings in the Vatican have a force and relief much commended by Renfesthein, an eminent connoisseur, who, on passing from the Sistine chapel to the Farnesian gallery, remarked how greatly in this respect the Caracci themselves were eclipsed by Buonarotti.”

MICHAEL ANGELO’S GRACE.

“It is a vulgar error,” says Lanzi, “to suppose that Michael Angelo had no idea of grace and beauty; the Eve in the Sistine chapel turns to thank her Maker, on her creation, with an attitude so fine and lovely, that it would do honor to the school of Raffaelle. Annibale Caracci admired this, and many other naked figures in this grand ceiling, so highly that he proposed them to himself as models in the art, and according to Bellori, preferred them to the Last Judgment, which appeared to him to be too anatomical.”

MICHAEL ANGELO’S OIL PAINTINGS.

MICHAEL ANGELO, HIS PROPHETS, AND JULIUS II.

When Michael Angelo had finished the works in the Sistine chapel which Julius II. had commanded him to paint, the Pope, not appreciating their native dignity and simplicity, told him that “the chapel appeared cold and mean, and there wanted some brilliancy of coloring, and some gilding to be added to it.” “Holy father,” replied the artist, “formerly men did not dress as they do now, in gold and silver; those personages whom I have represented in my pictures in the chapel, were not persons of wealth, but saints, who were divinely inspired, and despised pomp and riches.”

BON-MOTS OF MICHAEL ANGELO.

Under the pontificate of Julius III., the faction of San Gallo went so far, as to prevail upon the Pope to appoint a committee to examine the fabric. Angelo paid no attention to the cavils of his enemies. Finally the Pope summoned him before him, and told him that a particular part of the church was too dark. “Who told you that, holy father?” said Angelo. “I did,” interrupted the Cardinal Marcello. “Your eminence should consider, then,” said the artist, casting at the prelate a look of cool contempt, “that besides the window there is at present, I have designed three more in the ceiling of the church!” “You did not tell me that,” replied the Cardinal. “No indeed, I did not, sir. I am not obliged to tell you; nor would I ever consent to be obliged to tell your eminence, or any person whomsoever, anything concerning it. Your business is to take care that money is plenty at Rome; that there are no thieves there; to let me alone; and to permit me to go on with my plan as I please.”

When asked why he did not marry, he replied that “his art was his mistress, and gave him trouble enough.” Again, that “an artist should never cease to learn.” When told that some one had performed a remarkable feat in painting with his fingers, he said, “Why don’t the blockhead use his brush?” When shown Titian’s Danaë, he observed, “What a pity these Venetians do not study design.” Of the Gates of Ghiberti, he said, “they are fit to adorn the portals of Paradise.”

WASHINGTON ALLSTON.

“Soon after Allston’s marriage with his first wife, the sister of the late Dr. Channing, he made his second visit to Europe. After a residence there of a little more than a year, his pecuniary wants became very pressing and urgent—more so than at any other period of his life. On one of these occasions, as he himself used to narrate the event, he was in his studio, reflecting with a feeling of almost desperation upon his condition. His conscience seemed to tell him that he had deserved his afflictions, and drawn them upon himself, by his want of due gratitude for past favors from heaven. His heart, all at once, seemed filled with the hope that God would listen to his prayers, if he would offer up his direct expressions of penitence, and ask for divine aid. He accordingly locked his door, withdrew to a corner of the room, threw himself upon his knees, and prayed for a loaf of bread for himself and his wife. While thus employed, a knock was heard at the door. A feeling of momentary shame at being detected in this position, and a feeling of fear lest he might have been observed, induced him to hasten and open the door. A stranger inquired for Mr. Allston. He was anxious to learn who was the fortunate purchaser of the painting of “Angel Uriel,” regarded by the artist as one of his masterpieces, and which had won the prize at the exhibition of the Academy. He was told that it had not been sold. “Can it be possible? Not sold! Where is it to be had?” “In this very room. Here it is,” producing the painting from a corner, and wiping off the dust. “It is for sale—but its value has never yet, to my idea of its worth, been adequately appreciated—and I would not part with it.” “What is its price?” “I have done affixing any nominal sum. I have always, so far, exceeded my offers. I leave it for you to name the price.” “Will four hundred pounds be an adequate recompense?” “It is more than I have ever asked for it.” “Then the painting is mine.” The stranger introduced himself as the Marquis of Stafford; and he became, from that moment, one of the warmest friends of Mr. Allston. By him Mr. A. was introduced to the society of the nobility and gentry; and he became one of the most favored among the many gifted minds that adorned the circle, in which he was never fond of appearing often.

“The instantaneous relief thus afforded by the liberality of this noble visitor, was always regarded by Allston as a direct answer to his prayer, and it made a deep impression upon his mind. To this event he was ever after wont to attribute the increase of devotional feelings which became a prominent trait in his character.”—Boston Atlas.

ALLSTON’S DEATH.

The actions of the painter, the poet, and the musician, are dictated often by other motives than those impelling the arm of the mechanic, or the tongue of the advocate. Men of genius are of a more delicate organization than those possessing inferior abilities, and are swayed by emotions the most lofty that can actuate humanity. The world’s neglect, the contempt of critics, depressed spirits induced by pecuniary embarrassments, blast their hopes, enervate their energies, and deprive them of the potency to cope with the heartless world.

Men there are who would visit the generous Allston with censure, because, while laboring under disappointments, ill health, and crushed anticipations, he failed to finish his painting of Belshazzar’s Feast, a theme that possibly became uncongenial to his pencil. May their ill feeling be forgotten, and, if the fountain of their sympathies be not wholly dried up, may it yield a little lenity towards one of America’s noblest sons.

It may not be inappropriate to insert a tribute to the memory of Allston, which will serve to vindicate his character from his aspersers, and exhibit it as traced by one for many years connected with him by the dearest ties of friendship:

The Art-Union of New-York have struck a commemorative medal, with Allston’s face on the obverse side; and thus is the great artist rewarded.

Genius, that breaks the fetters encircling the mind, is fated to drink life’s bitterest cup to the dregs. After earth has flung the gem away, she proclaims its value.

Reformers must be martyrs. Every Socrates must quaff his hemlock—every Burns pine in unpitied poverty. In life, the artist appears on the reverse side of the world’s medal—in death, on the obverse.”—Dewey Fay.

AMERICAN PATRONAGE AT HOME AND ABROAD.

The writer has frequently heard our artists bitterly complain of the meanness of their countrymen in patronizing everything foreign, not only at home but abroad. It is mortifying enough to them to see the palaces of many of our merchant princes disgraced, not adorned, with a multitude of modern flashy French pictures, without a single piece by a native artist. How cutting then must be the slight to those young artists, who, having gone to Italy for improvement, are visited in their studios, by their countrymen, who, desirous of bringing home some copies of favorite pictures, give their commissions to foreigners. Our young artists, during their residence abroad, are generally poor, and frequently undergo every privation to enable them to achieve the object of their ambition. Weir says that at one time during his residence at Rome, he was obliged “to live on ten cents a day for a month.” Greenough, during his second visit to Italy, was almost driven to despair. Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper found him in this deplorable state in 1829, and gave him a commission for his beautiful group of Chanting Cherubs. He had already distinguished himself by several admirable busts of John Quincy Adams, Chief Justice Marshall, Henry Clay, and others, but this was the first commission he had ever received for a group. The grateful sculptor says in a letter to Mr. Dunlap, “Mr. Fenimore Cooper saved me from despair, after my second return to Italy. He employed me as I wished to be employed; and has, up to this moment, been a father to me in kindness.”

Mr. Cooper, in a letter published in the New-York American, April 30, 1831, says:

“Most of our people, who come to Italy, employ the artists of the country to make copies, under the impression that they will be both cheaper and better, than those done by Americans, studying here. My own observation has led me to adopt a different course. I am well assured that few things are done for us by Europeans, under the same sense of responsibility, as when they work for customers near home. The very occupation of the copyist, infers some want of that original capacity, without which no man can impart to a work, however exact it may be in its mechanical details, the charm of expression. In the case of Mr. Greenough, I was led even to try the experiment of an original. The difference in value between an original and a copy is so greatly in favor of the former, with anything like approach to success, that I am surprised that more of our amateurs are not induced to command them. The little group I have sent home, (the Chanting Cherubs) will always have an interest that can belong to no other work of the same character. It is the first effort of a young artist who bids fair to build for himself a name, and whose life will be connected with the history of the art in that country which is so soon to occupy such a place in the world. It is more; it is probably the first group ever completed by an American sculptor.”

When this beautiful group had been exhibited a sufficient time in the United States, to bring its merits before the public, Mr. Cooper, in the hope of influencing the government to employ Greenough on a statue of Washington, wrote to the President, and to Mr. McLane the Secretary of the Treasury, strongly urging the plan of a statue of the “Father of his Country,” by the first American sculptor who had shown himself competent to so great a task. He was successful, and Congress commissioned Greenough to execute a statue of Washington for the Capitol. The sculptor received the intelligence with transports of delight, but when he had had time for reflection, he modestly began to doubt his ability to do justice to his subject, and “answer all the expectations of his friends.” “When I went,” says he, “the other morning, into the large room in which I propose to execute my statue, I felt like a spoiled boy, who, after insisting upon riding on horseback, bawled aloud with fright, at finding himself in the saddle, so far from the ground!”

Is it not a burning shame, that the most gifted artists of this great and glorious country should be compelled to go abroad to seek both fame and bread, not fortune? What merchant prince will set his countrymen an example, and, like Sir George Beaumont, bribe Congress and his fellow citizens to form a national gallery, by giving a collection of casts from the antique, first class paintings and engravings, rare works of art, and a library on art, worth 70,000 guineas? It is a mistaken opinion, entertained by many, that the fine arts are of little importance to our country. On the contrary, every person is directly interested. A foreign writer observes that, “silver-plating in the United States, is what tin-smithery is in Paris.” Fuseli terms Venice “the toy-shop of Europe;” better Paris. What a multitude of people are supported in that great city by the manufacture of ten thousand fabrics, exquisitely designed and executed. The Parisians have a keen perception of the beautiful, simply from being educated in a city abounding with galleries and the best models of art, or as Reynolds terms it, “the accumulated genius of ages.”

RAFFAELLE SANZIO DI URBINO.

RAFFAELLE’S AMBITION.

Raffaelle was inspired by the most unbounded ambition; the efforts of Michael Angelo to supplant him only stimulated him to greater exertions; and, on his death-bed, he thanked God he was born in the days of Buonarotti. He was instructed in the principles of architecture for six years by Bramante, that on his death he might succeed him in superintending the erection of St. Peter’s. He lived among the ancient sculptures, and derived from them not only the contours, drapery, and attitudes, but the spirit and principles of the art. Not content with what he saw at Rome, he employed able artists to copy the remains of antiquity at Pozzuolo, throughout all Italy, and even in Greece. It is also probable that he derived much assistance from living artists, whom he consulted in regard to his compositions. The universal esteem which he enjoyed, his attractive person, and his engaging manners, which all authors unite in describing as incomparable, conciliated the favor of the most eminent men of letters, as Bembo, Castiglione, Giovio, Navagero, Ariosto, Fulvio, Calcagnini, etc., who set a high value on his friendship, and were doubtless ready to supply him with many valuable hints and ideas.

RAFFAELLE AND MICHAEL ANGELO.

“Michael Angelo, his rival,” says Lanzi, “contributed not a little to the success of Raffaelle. As the contest between Zeuxis and Parrhasius was beneficial to both, so the rivalship of Buonarotti and Sanzio aided the fame of Michael Angelo, and produced the paintings in the Sistine chapel; and at the same time contributed to the celebrity of Raffaelle, by producing the pictures in the Vatican, and not a few others. Michael Angelo, disdaining any secondary honors, came to the combat, as it were, attended by his shield-bearer, for he made drawings in his grand style, and then gave them to Fra Sebastiano del Piombo, the scholar of Giorgione, to execute; and, by this means, he hoped that Raffaelle would never be able to rival his productions, either in design or color. Raffaelle stood alone, but aimed at producing works with a degree of perfection beyond the united efforts of Michael Angelo and F. Sebastiano, combining in himself a fertile imagination, ideal beauty founded on a correct imitation of the Greek style, grace, ease, amenity, and a universality of genius in every department of art. The noble determination of triumphing in such a powerful contest animated him night and day, and allowed him no respite. It also animated him to surpass both his rivals and himself in every new work.”

RAFFAELLE’S TRANSFIGURATION.

“This great artist” (Michael Angelo), says Vasari, “had felt some uneasiness at the growing fame of Raffaelle, and he gladly availed himself of the powers of Sebastiano del Piombo, as a colorist, in the hope that, assisted by his designs, he might be enabled to enter the lists successfully with his illustrious antagonist, if not to drive him from the field. With this view, he furnished him with the designs for the Pietà in the church of the Conventuali at Viterbo, and the Transfiguration and Flagellation, in S. Pietro in Montorio, at Rome, which, as he was very tedious in the process, occupied him six years.” It was at this juncture that the Cardinal de Medici commissioned Raffaelle to paint a picture of the Transfiguration, and in order to stimulate the rivalry, he engaged Sebastiano to paint one of the Resurrection of Lazarus, of precisely the same dimensions, for his Cathedral of Narbonne. That Sebastiano might enter the lists with some chance of success, he was again assisted by Buonarotti, who composed and designed the picture. On this occasion, Raffaelle exerted his utmost powers, triumphed over both his competitors, and produced that immortal picture which has received the most unqualified approbation of mankind as the finest picture in the world. Both pictures were publicly exhibited in competition, and the palm of victory was adjudged to Raffaelle—the Transfiguration was pronounced inimitable in composition, in design, in expression, and in grace. This sublime composition represents the mystery of Christ’s Transfiguration on Mount Tabor. At the foot of the Mount is assembled a multitude, among whom are the Disciples of our Lord, endeavoring in vain to relieve a youth from the dominion of an evil spirit. The various emotions of human doubt, anxiety, and pity, exhibited in the different figures, present one of the most pathetic incidents ever conceived; yet this part of the composition does not fix the attention so much as the principal figure on the summit of the mountain. There Christ appears elevated in the air, surrounded with a celestial radiance, between Moses and Elias, while the three favored Apostles are kneeling in devout astonishment on the ground. The head and attitude of the Saviour are distinguished by a divine majesty and sublimity, that is indescribable.

DEATH OF RAFFAELLE.

CHARACTER OF RAFFAELLE.

All cotemporary writers unite in describing Raffaelle as amiable, modest, kind, and obliging; equally respected and beloved by the high and the low. His beauty of person and noble countenance inspired confidence, and strongly prepossessed the beholder in his favor at first sight. Respectful to the memory of Perugino, and grateful for the instructions he had received from him, he exerted all his influence with the Pope, that the works of his master in one of the ceilings of the Vatican might be spared, when the other paintings were destroyed to make room for his own embellishments. Just and generous to his cotemporaries, though not ignorant of their intrigues, he thanked God that he had been born in the days of Buonarotti. Gracious towards his pupils, he loved and instructed them as his own sons; courteous even to strangers, he cheerfully extended his advice to all who asked it, and in order to make designs for others, or to direct them in their studies, he had been known to neglect his own works, rather than refuse them his assistance.

LA BELLA FORNARINA.

Raffaelle was never married, though by no means averse to female society. The Cardinal da Bibiena offered him his niece, which high alliance he is said to have declined because the honors of the purple were held out to him by the Pope, who favored him greatly, and made him groom of his chamber. Early in life he became attached to a young woman, the daughter of a baker at Rome, called by way of distinction, La Bella Fornarina, to whom he was solely and constantly attached, and he left her in his will sufficient for an independent maintenance. The rest of his property he bequeathed to a relative in Urbino, and to his favorite scholars, Giulio Romano, and Gio. Francesco Penni.

THE GENIUS OF RAFFAELLE.

RAFFAELLE’S MODEL FOR HIS FEMALE SAINTS.

“His own Fornarina,” says Lanzi, “assisted him in this object. Her portrait by Raffaelle’s own hand was formerly in the Barberini Palace, and it is repeated in many of his Madonnas, in the picture of St. Cecilia at Bologna, and in many female heads.”

RAFFAELLE’S OIL PAINTINGS.

“Of his oil paintings,” says Lanzi, “a considerable number are to be found in private collections, particularly on sacred subjects, such as the Madonna and Child, and other compositions of the Holy Family. They are in three styles, which we have before described: the Grand Duke of Florence has some specimens of each. The most admired is that which is named the Madonna della Seggiola. Of this class of pictures it is often doubted whether they ought to be considered as originals or copies, as some of them have been three, five, or ten times repeated. The same may be said of other cabinet pictures by him, particularly the St. John in the Desert, which is in the Grand Ducal gallery at Florence, and is found repeated in many collections both in Italy and other countries. This was likely to happen in a school where the most common mode was the following:—The subject was designed by Raffaello, the picture prepared by Giulio, and finished by the master so exquisitely, that one might almost count the hairs of the head. When pictures were thus finished, they were copied by the scholars of Raffaello, who were very numerous, and of the second and third order; and these were also sometimes retouched by Giulio and by Raffaello himself. But whoever is experienced in the freedom and delicacy of the chief of this school, need not fear confounding his productions with those of the scholars, or Giulio himself; who, besides having a more timid pencil, made use of a darker tint than his master was accustomed to do. I have met with an experienced person, who declared that he could recognize the character of Giulio in the dark parts of the flesh tints, and in the middle dark tints, not of a leaden color as Raffaello used, nor so well harmonized; in the greater quantity of light, and in the eyes designed more roundly, which Raffaello painted somewhat long, after the manner of Pietro Perugino.”

PORTRAITS OF POPE JULIUS II.

MANNERS OF RAFFAELLE.

Raffaelle had three manners; first, that of his instructor, Pietro Perugino, hence many exquisite pictures in the style of that master are erroneously attributed to him; second, the same, modified by his residence and studies at Florence, which continued till his completion of the Theology in the Vatican, though constantly improving; and the third, his own grand original manner, commencing with the school of Athens. For a very full life of Raffaelle, with Lanzi’s admirable critique, see Spooner’s Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects.

PETER PAUL RUBENS.

This preëminent painter, accomplished scholar, and skillful diplomatist, was born at Antwerp in 1577, on the feast day of St. Peter and St. Paul, for which reason he received at the baptismal font the names of those Apostles. Rubens, in his earliest years, discovered uncommon ability, vivacity of genius, literary taste, and a mild and docile disposition. His father, intending him for one of the learned professions, gave him a very liberal education, and on the completion of his studies, placed him as a page with the Countess of Lalain, in order that his son might acquire graceful and accomplished manners, so important to success in a professional career. His father dying soon afterwards, young Rubens obtained the permission of his mother, to follow the bent of his genius. He studied under several masters, the last of whom was the celebrated Otho Venius. He made such extraordinary progress, that when he had reached his twenty-third year, Venius frankly told him that he could be of no further service to him, and that nothing more remained for his improvement but a journey to Italy, which he recommended as the surest means of ripening his extraordinary talents to the greatest perfection.

RUBENS’ VISIT TO ITALY.

RUBENS’ ENTHUSIASM.

Giulio Romano’s masterly illustrations of the sublime poetry of Homer excited Rubens’ emulation in the highest degree. One day, while he was engaged in painting the history of Turnus and Æneas, in order to warm his imagination with poetic rapture, he repeated with great energy, the lines of Virgil, beginning,