The Duke, overhearing his recitations, entered the apartment, and was surprised to find the young painter’s mind richly stored with classical literature. Rubens remained in the service of the Duke of Mantua, who had conceived the strongest attachment to him, nearly eight years, visiting Venice, Rome, Genoa, and other cities, executing many commissions, and leaving everywhere superb specimens of his magic pencil. In 1605, the Duke having occasion to send an envoy to the court of Spain, employed Rubens as a person eminently fitted for the delicate mission. He successfully accomplished the negotiations confided to him, painted the portrait of Philip III., and received from that monarch the most flattering marks of distinction.
RUBENS’ RETURN TO ANTWERP.
In 1608, after an absence of eight years, Rubens was suddenly recalled to Antwerp by the severe illness of his mother, who died before his arrival. The loss of his dearly beloved parent was a severe affliction to him. He had proposed to return to Italy, but the Archduke Albert, and the Infanta Isabella, induced him to settle at Antwerp, where he married, built a magnificent house, with a saloon in the form of a rotunda, which he embellished with a rich collection of antique statues, busts, vases, and pictures by the greatest masters. This collection he sold many years afterwards to the Duke of Buckingham for £10,000. Amidst these select productions of art, he passed about twelve years in the tranquil exercise of his great abilities, producing an astonishing number of admirable pictures for the churches and public edifices of the Low Countries.
RUBENS’ HABITS.
In order to continue his mental improvement, to enjoy the sweets of friendly intercourse, and to economize his precious time, Rubens regulated his affairs with a precision which nothing was permitted to derange. He received company at stated times, took regular exercise out of doors, usually on horseback, and it is said that he never painted without having some one to read to him from a classic work of history or poetry. He possessed an extraordinary memory, and understood the ancient and several modern languages, writing and speaking them with ease and fluency. His familiar acquaintance with ancient and modern literature, had enriched his mind with inexhaustible resources.
RUBENS’ DETRACTORS.
Rubens’ great popularity naturally excited envy, and created enemies. Generous and affable to all, and a liberal encourager of art, he found himself assailed by those who were most indebted to him for assistance. With the most audacious effrontery, they insinuated that he owed the best part of his reputation in the great variety of his works, for which he was celebrated, to the talents of two of his disciples, Snyders and Wildens, whom he employed occasionally in forwarding the animals and landscapes in his pictures. The principal of these vilifiers were Abraham Janssens, Cornelius Schut, and Theodore Rombouts; the first had the hardihood to challenge him to paint a picture in competition with him. Rubens treated these attacks with a dignity and philanthropy that shows his exalted mind, and the goodness of his heart; he relieved the necessities of his accusers, and exposed his immortal production of the Descent from the Cross.
THE GALLERY OF THE LUXEMBOURG.
In 1620, Mary of Medicis commissioned Rubens to decorate the gallery of the Luxembourg with a series of emblematical paintings, in twenty-four compartments, illustrative of the principal events of her life. The series was painted at Antwerp, except two pictures, which he finished at Paris in 1623, when he arranged the whole in the gallery. These great works, executed in less than three years, are alone sufficient to attest the abundant fertility of his genius, and the wonderful facility of his hand.
RUBENS SENT AS AMBASSADOR TO THE COURTS OF SPAIN AND ENGLAND.
In 1628, the Infanta Isabella despatched Rubens on a delicate political mission to the court of Spain, relative to the critical state of the government of the Low Countries, and for instructions preparatory to a negotiation of peace between Spain and England. On his arrival at the Spanish capital, he was received in the most gracious manner by Philip IV., acquitted himself of his diplomatic mission to the entire satisfaction of the Infanta and the King, and completely captivated that monarch, and his minister, the Duke de Olivares, by the magnificent productions of his pencil. He executed several great works, for which he was munificently rewarded, received the honors of knighthood, and was presented with the golden key, as a Gentleman of the Royal Bed-Chamber.
In 1629 he returned to Flanders, and was immediately despatched to England by the Infanta, on a secret mission, to ascertain the disposition of the government on the subject of peace. The king, Charles I., an ardent lover of the fine arts, received the illustrious painter with every mark of distinction, and immediately employed him in painting the ceiling of the Banqueting House at Whitehall, where he represented the Apotheosis of his father, James I., for which he received £3,000. Here Rubens showed himself no less skillful as a diplomatist than as a painter. In one of the frequent visits with which the king honored him during the execution of the work, he alluded with infinite delicacy and address to the subject of a peace with Spain, and finding the monarch not averse to such a measure, he immediately produced his credentials. Charles at once appointed some members of his council to negociate with him, and a pacification was soon effected. The King was so highly pleased with the productions of his pencil, and particularly with his conduct in this diplomatic emergency, that he gave him a munificent reward, and conferred upon him the honor of knighthood, Feb. 21, 1630. On this occasion, the king presented Rubens with his own sword, enriched with diamonds, his hat-band of jewels, valued at ten thousand crowns, and a gold chain, which Rubens wore ever afterwards.
DEATH OF RUBENS.
Rubens, after having successfully accomplished the objects of his missions to the courts of Spain and England, returned to Antwerp, where he was received with all the honors and distinction due to his services and exalted merit. He still continued to exercise his pencil with undiminished industry and reputation till 1635, when he experienced some aggravated attacks of the gout, to which he had been subject, succeeded by an infirmity and trembling of the hand, which obliged him to decline executing all works of large dimensions. Though he had now reached his fifty-eighth year, and was loaded with deserved honors and wealth, he nevertheless continued to instruct his pupils, to correspond with his cherished friends, and to paint easel pictures when his torturing malady would permit, till his death, in 1640, aged 63 years. He was buried with extraordinary pomp and solemnity in the church of St. James, under the altar of the private chapel, which he had decorated with one of his finest pictures. A superb monument was erected to his memory.
RUBENS’ NUMEROUS WORKS.
The number of works executed by Rubens is truly astonishing; Smith, in his Catalogue raisonné, vols. ii. and ix., describes about eighteen hundred considered genuine by him, in the different public and private collections of Europe. There can be no doubt that a great number of these were executed by his numerous scholars and assistants, under his direction, from his designs, and then finished by himself. It is well known that he employed his pupils in forwarding many of his pictures, and that Wildens, van Uden, and Mompers, in particular, assisted him in his landscapes, and Snyders in his animals. His principal scholars were Anthony Vandyck, Justus van Egmont, Theodore van Thulden, Abraham Diepenbeck, Jacob Jordaens, Peter van Mol, Cornelius Schut, John van Hoeck, Simon de Vos, Peter Soutman, Deodato Delmont, Erasmus Quellinus, Francis Wouters, Francis Snyders, John Wildens, Lucas van Uden, and Jodocus Mompers. Several other distinguished Flemish painters of the period, who were not his pupils, imitated his style; the most eminent of whom were Gerard Seghers, Gaspar de Crayer, and Martin Pepin. Besides the genuine paintings of Rubens, there are a multitude of doubtful authenticity, attributed to him, most of which were executed by his pupils and imitators. Many such, fine pictures, are in the United States. There are upwards of twelve hundred engravings after works attributed to Rubens; some of which, however, are of doubtful authenticity. Those executed by the Bolswerts, Paul Pontius, and other cotemporary engravers who worked under Rubens’ supervision, are undoubtedly genuine. There are a great number of his works in England in the public galleries and the collections of the nobility; there are nine in the National gallery, fourteen in the Dulwich gallery, and others at Windsor, Hampton Court, and Whitehall. The enormous value set upon his works at the present time, maybe seen by referring to the catalogue of the National gallery; thus, the Brazen Serpent cost £1260; a Landscape, called Rubens’ Chateau, £1500; Peace and War, £3000; the Rape of the Sabines, £3000; and the Judgment of Paris, 4000 guineas. Many of the works of Rubens, like those of other great masters, have suffered greatly from the effects of time, but more from improper cleaning and unskillful restoration, especially in retouching injured parts, by which the original harmony of coloring has been destroyed. Thus his pictures in the Banqueting house at Whitehall, have been three times cleaned, repaired, and painted over, so that little of the original splendor of coloring remains.
THE FIRST PICTURE BROUGHT TO ROME.
The first picture carried to Rome from Greece, according to Pliny, was the famous Bacchus and Ariadne, painted by Aristides of Thebes. It was painted on a heavy panel, and King Attalus offered for it, its weight in gold, which excited the suspicion of the Consul Mummius that it contained some secret charm. He accordingly broke off the bargain, and took it himself to Rome, where he dedicated it in the temple of Ceres. After this example, every Roman commander seems to have been ambitious of adorning the city with the finest pictures and statues of Greece, Asia Minor, Egypt, and Sicily. Julius Cæsar enshrined the two exquisite pictures of Medea and Ajax, by Timomachus, in the Temple of Venus. Augustus hung his forum with pictures of the horrors of war, and the glories of a triumph; and he adorned the temple which he dedicated to the deified Julius with many choice pictures, the most beautiful of which was the Venus Anadyomene of Apelles. Another, scarcely less celebrated, by the same painter, was one of Alexander in triumph, leading War, bound and manacled. This picture was afterwards defaced by Claudius, who caused the head of Alexander to be scraped out, and that of Augustus to be inserted. Another picture of especial note, in the same temple, was one of Castor and Pollux.
Augustus also placed in the Comitium some excellent works, by Nicias of Athens, and others. The Temple of Peace was rich in pictures of the highest class. There was placed the most valued of all the works of Protogenes, the hunter Jalysus with his dogs and game, the Cyclops of Timanthes, and the sea-monster Scylla, by Nicomachus.
In the Temple of Concord, there was a precious picture by Zeuxis—that of Marsyas bound to a Tree; and the Muses and the Helen of the same painter adorned some of the private villas at Rome.
In the Temple of Minerva, on the Capitol, was the Theseus of Parrhasius, with the Rape of Proserpine, and a Victory by Nicomachus.
In the shrine of Ceres, where Mummius had placed the Bacchus and Ariadne of Aristides, were several other works by the same painter.
The Portico of Octavia was adorned with pictures of Greek mythology and history by Antiphilus; and that of Pompey boasted a rare fragment by Polygnotus, of a Soldier upon a Scaling Ladder, probably a part of some great battle-piece, which that illustrious painter had executed in honor of his countrymen. Some suppose it to have been taken from the Pœcile at Athens, where the pictures were not painted in fresco, but on panels. The Portico of Pompey was still further adorned with pictures by Nicias, among which were a large portrait of Alexander, a picture of Calypso, and some animals, which were much prized. There was also a beautiful picture of Hyacinthus, by the same artist, which was so highly valued by Augustus, that, after his death, Tiberius consecrated it to his memory, in the temple dedicated to him.
The Romans did not hesitate to carry off everything appertaining to the fine arts in the countries they conquered. The greatest influx of Greek pictures into Rome, at any one time, was during the edileship of Scaurus, when, on account of a real or pretended debt owing by the people of Sicyon to Rome, all the valuable pictures in that city were seized and conveyed to Italy. Such were a few of the many pictures, the spoils of war, which were carried to Rome, to adorn the temples, palaces, and public places, not to speak of those which decorated the villas of persons of rank and taste.
ETRUSCAN SCULPTURE.
The Romans were so fond of Etruscan statues that they collected them from all quarters. At the taking of Volsinum (now Bolsena), they removed two thousand bronze statues to Rome. The Etruscans were also much employed by the Romans to make bronze statues of their divinities and great personages. One of the most ancient remaining works executed by them for Rome, is the bronze Wolf, “the thunder-stricken nurse of Rome,” preserved in the Capitol, and of which Micali has given an excellent figure. There was a colossal Etruscan Apollo, fifty feet high, placed in the library of the Temple of Augustus, “the bigness of which,” says Pliny, “is not so remarkable as the material and the workmanship; for hard it is to say whether is most admirable, the beautiful figure of the body, or the exquisite temperature of the metal” There was also a colossal Jupiter of the Capitol, cast by Corovillius out of the brazen armor taken from the dead bodies of the conquered Samnites. Pliny says the first bronze statue cast in Rome, was that of the goddess Ceres, the expense of which was defrayed by the forfeited goods of Spurius Capius, who was put to death for aspiring to the dignity of king.
CAMPUS MARTIUS.
The Campus Martius was a large plain without the city of Rome, which was adorned with a multitude of statues, the spoils of war; also with columns, arches, and porticos. The public assemblies were held there, the officers of state chosen, and audience given to foreign ambassadors; there, also, the Roman youths performed their exercises, learned to wrestle and box, to throw the discus, hurl the javelin, ride a horse, drive a chariot, etc.
ELECTIONEERING PICTURES AT ROME.
The Roman commanders made a singular use of painting to advance their interests. Their inordinate love of military fame discovered a mode of feeding that ruling passion by means of this charming art. According to Valerius Maximus, Massala was the first who, when he offered himself for the consulship, instead of sitting in the market-place, dressed in the white robe of humility, and pointing to his wounds like Coriolanus,
As if I had received them for the hire
Of their breath only,”
caused a picture to be hung up in the portico Hostilia, representing the battle of Messana, where he had vanquished both the Carthagenians and Syracusans. The picture told the story of his achievements to the best advantage, and secured his election. Scipio Africanus was greatly incensed against his brother, Lucius Scipio, for placing in the Capitol a picture of the battle near Sardis, which won him the title of Asiaticus, but in which, his nephew, the son of Africanus, was taken prisoner. Again, Scipio Emilianus was highly offended at the display of a picture of the Taking of Carthage, exhibited in the market-place by Lucius Hostilius Mancinus. It appears that Mancinus was the first to enter the city, and on his return to Rome, being desirous of the consulship, he had a picture painted, representing the situation of the town, its strong fortifications, all the machines used in the attack and defense, and the actions of the besiegers, in which care was taken that those of Mancinus should be most conspicuous. This he hung up in the Forum, and personally explained to the people in such a manner, that he won their good will, and gained the consulship. We learn from Quintilian that the lawyers of Rome often made use of pictures in their pleadings for the purpose of moving the judges.
DRAMATIC SCENERY AT ROME.
It is related that when Claudius Pulcher, during his edileship, exhibited dramas publicly at Rome, the scenery, representing trees, houses and other buildings was so naturally depicted, that the ravens and other birds came to perch upon them. Many such anecdotes are related as having occurred in all ages of the history of the art, but they are not so sure a test of excellence as people generally imagine, for animals are easily deceived. The writer has made experiments to satisfy himself on this point; he has seen a whiffet dog bark obstreperously at the portrait of a person it disliked; birds approach a picture of fruit, and bees one of flowers. He has a picture of three dogs, so naturally painted, that almost every dog, admitted into the room, not only looks at it, but endeavors to smell of it. Every sportsman knows that it is easy to decoy wild ducks with an artificial one.
APELLES OF EPHESUS AND PTOLEMY PHILOPATOR.
During a voyage in the eastern part of the Mediterranean, Apelles was driven into Alexandria, in Egypt, by stress of weather. Not being in favor with king Ptolemy, he did not venture to appear at the court; but some of his enemies suborned one of the royal buffoons to invite him to supper in the king’s name, Apelles attended accordingly, but Ptolemy, indignant at the intrusion, demanded by whom he had been invited; whereupon the painter, seizing an extinguished coal from the hearth, drew upon the wall the features of the man who had invited him, with such accuracy, that the king, even from the first lines, immediately recognized the buffoon, and thenceforth received Apelles into his favor.
APELLES’ FAMOUS PICTURE OF CALUMNY.
According to Lucian, the reputation of Apelles, and the favor he enjoyed at the court of Ptolemy, excited the jealousy of Antiphilus, a celebrated Egyptian painter, who unjustly accused him of having participated in the conspiracy of Theodotus of Tyre. Apelles was thrown into the dungeon, and treated with great severity, but his innocence being clearly established, Ptolemy endeavored to make reparation, presented him with one hundred talents, and condemned Antiphilus to be his slave. Apelles, however, was not satisfied with this reparation, and on returning to Ephesus, painted in retaliation his famous picture of Calumny, in which Ptolemy acted a principal part. Lucian saw this picture, and thus describes it:
“On the right, is seated a person of magisterial authority, to whom the painter has given ears like Midas, who holds forth his hand to Calumny, as if inviting her to approach. He is attended by Ignorance and Suspicion, who stand by his side. Calumny advances in the form of a beautiful female, her countenance and demeanor exhibiting an air of fury and hatred; in one hand she holds the torch of discord, and with the other, she drags by the hair a youth personifying Innocence, who, with eyes raised to heaven, seems to implore succor of the gods. She is preceded by Envy, a figure with a pallid visage and emaciated form, who appears to be the leader of the band. Calumny is also attended by two other figures who seem to excite and animate her, and whose deceitful looks discover them to be Intrigue and Treachery. At last follows Repentance clothed in black, and covered with confusion at the discovery of Truth in the distance, environed with celestial light.”
This sketch has been regarded as one of the most ingenious examples of allegorical painting which the history of the art affords. Raffaelle made a drawing from Lucian’s description, which was formerly in the collection of the Duke of Modena, and was afterwards transferred to the French Museum.
Professor Tölken, of Berlin, has shown that this Apelles was not the great cotemporary of Alexander, for the persons mentioned in connection with the story, lived more than a hundred years after the death of Alexander—or about the 144th Olympiad. This reconciles many contradictory statements with regard to Apelles, both by ancient and modern writers. See Spooner’s Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects.
SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
Soon after Kneller’s arrival in England, he painted the portrait of the Duke of Monmouth, who was so much pleased with it that he persuaded the king, his father (Charles II.) to have his portrait painted by the new artist. The King had promised the Duke of York his portrait, to be painted by Sir Peter Lely, and unwilling to go through the ceremony of a double sitting, he proposed that both artists should paint him at the same time. Lely, as the king’s painter, took the light and station he liked; but Kneller took the next best he could find, and went to work with so much expedition, that he had nearly finished his portrait, when Lely had only laid in his dead coloring. This novelty pleased, and Lely himself had the candor to acknowledge his merit. Kneller immediately found himself in the possession of great reputation and abundant employment, and the immense number of portraits he executed, proves the stability of his reputation. He was equally patronized by Kings Charles, James, and William, and he had the honor of painting ten sovereigns. His best friend was King William, for whom he painted the beauties of Hampton Court, and by whom he was knighted in 1692, and presented with a gold chain and medal, worth £300. In the latter part of this reign, he painted the portraits of the members of the famous Kit-cat Club, forty-two in number, and the several portraits now in the gallery of the Admirals. He lived to paint the portrait of George I., who made him a Baronet. He died in 1723. His body lay in state, and he was buried at his country-seat at Wilton; a monument was erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey.
KNELLER AND JAMES II.
It was while sitting to this artist, that James the Second manifested a most surprising instance of coolness and shrewdness united. Kneller was painting his portrait as a present to Pepys, when suddenly intelligence arrived of the landing of the Prince of Orange. The artist was confounded, and laid down his brush. “Go on, Kneller,” said the king, betraying no outward emotion; “I wish not to disappoint my friend Pepys.”
KNELLER’S COMPLIMENT TO LOUIS XIV.
When Kneller painted the portrait of Louis XIV., the monarch asked him what mark of his esteem would be most agreeable to him; whereupon he modestly answered that he should feel honored if his Majesty would bestow a quarter of an hour upon him, that he might execute a drawing of his face for himself. The request was granted. Kneller painted Dryden in his own hair, in plain drapery, holding a laurel, and made him a present of the work; to which the poet responded in an epistle containing encomiums such as few painters deserve.
That nature seems obedient to thy will,
Comes out and meets thy pencil in the draught,
Lives there, and wants but words to speak the thought.”
KNELLER’S WIT.
The servants of his neighbor, Dr. Radcliffe, abused the liberty of a private entrance to the painter’s garden, and plucked his flowers. Kneller sent him word that he must shut the door up; whereupon the doctor peevishly replied, “Tell him he may do any thing with it but paint it.” “Never mind what he says,” retorted Sir Godfrey; “I can take anything from him but physic.” He once overheard a low fellow cursing himself. “God damn you, indeed!” exclaimed the artist in wonder; “God may damn the Duke of Marlborough, and perhaps Sir Godfrey Kneller; but do you think he will ever take the trouble of damning such a scoundrel as you?” To his tailor, who proposed his son for a pupil, he said, “Dost thou think, man, I can make thy son a painter? No, God Almighty only makes painters.” He gave a reason for preferring portraiture to historical painting, which forms an admirable bon-mot, for its shrewdness, truthfulness, and ingenuity. “Painters of history,” said he, “make the dead live, and do not begin to live till they are dead. I paint the living, and they make me live!”
KNELLER’S KNOWLEDGE OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
In a conversation concerning the legitimacy of the unfortunate son of James II., some doubts having been expressed by an Oxford Doctor, Kneller exclaimed, with much warmth, “His father and mother have sat to me about thirty-six times apiece, and I know every line and bit of their faces. Mein Gott! I could paint King James now by memory. I say the child is so like both, that there is not a feature of his face but what belongs either to father or mother; this I am sure of, and cannot be mistaken; nay, the nails of his fingers are his mother’s, the queen that was. Doctor, you may be out in your letters, but I cannot be out in my lines.”
KNELLER AS A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
Sir Godfrey acted as a justice of the peace at Wilton, and his sense of justice induced him always to decide rather by equity than law. His judgments, too, were often accompanied with so much humor, as caused the greatest merriment among his acquaintance. Thus, he dismissed a poor soldier who had stolen a piece of meat, and fined the butcher for purposely tempting him to commit the crime. Hence Pope wrote the following lines:
Whenever he was applied to by paupers, he always inquired which were the richest parishes, and settled them there. He could never be induced to sign a warrant to distrain the goods of a poor man, who could not pay a tax, and he took pleasure in assisting the honest poor with his advice and purse. He disliked interruption, and if the case appeared trivial, or was the result of a row, he would not be disturbed. Seeing a constable coming to him one day, with two men, having bloody noses, and a mob at his heels, he called out to him, “Mr. Constable, do you see that turning? Go that way, and you will find an ale-house—the sign of the King’s Head. Go and make it up.” A handsome young woman came before him one day to swear a rape; struck with her beauty, he continued examining her as he sat painting, till he had taken her likeness. Perceiving from her manner that she was not free from guilt, he advised her not to prosecute her suit, but seek some other mode of redress. These instances show the goodness of his heart, and refute the many absurd and malicious stories that are told of him.
KNELLER AND CLOSTERMANS.
When Clostermans, an inferior artist, sent a challenge to Kneller to paint a picture in competition with him for a wager, he courteously declined the contest, and sent him word that “he allowed him to be his superior.”
THE CAVALIERE BERNINI.
Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, whose renown filled all Europe in the seventeenth century, was called the Michael Angelo of his age, because, like that great artist, he united in an eminent degree, the three great branches of art—painting, sculpture, and architecture, though he was chiefly renowned in the two last.
BERNINI’S PRECOCITY.
Bernini manifested his extraordinary talents almost in infancy. At the age of eight years, he executed a child’s head in marble, which was considered a wonder. When he was ten years old, his talents had become so widely known, that Pope Paul V. wished to see the prodigy who was the astonishment of artists, and on his being brought into his presence, desired him to draw a figure of St. Paul, which he did in half an hour, so much to the satisfaction of the pontiff that he recommended him to Cardinal Barberini, saying, “Direct the studies of this child, who will become the Michael Angelo of this century.”
BERNINI’S STRIKING PREDICTION.
During Bernini’s distinguished career, Charles I. of England endeavored in vain to allure him to visit his court. Not succeeding in this, he employed Vandyck to paint two excellent portraits of himself, one in profile and the other in full face, and sent them to Bernini, to enable him to execute his bust. The sculptor surveyed them with an anxious eye, and exclaimed, “Something evil will befall this man; he carries misfortune in his face.” The tragical termination of the monarch’s career, verified the sculptor’s knowledge of physiognomy. Bernini made a striking likeness, with which the king was so much pleased, that, in addition to the stipulated price, six thousand crowns, he made him a present of a diamond ring, worth six thousand more.
BERNINI AND LOUIS XIV.
Bernini received the most flattering and pressing invitations from Louis XIV. to visit Paris. At length, he was persuaded by the great Colbert to undertake the journey, and having with great difficulty obtained permission of the Pope, he set out for France, at the age of sixty-eight, accompanied by one of his sons, and a numerous retinue. Never did an artist travel with so much pomp, and under so many flattering circumstances. By order of the King, he was received everywhere on his way with the honors due to a prince, and on his arrival at Paris, he was received by the king with every mark of distinction, and apartments assigned to him in the royal palace. Louis defrayed all the expenses of his journey, and to immortalize the event, had a medal struck, with the portrait of the artist, and on the reverse, the Muses of the Arts, with this inscription, “Singularis in singularis; in omnibus, unicus.” When he returned to Rome, Louis presented him with ten thousand crowns, gave him a pension of two thousand, and one of four hundred to his son, and commissioned him to execute an equestrian statue of himself, in marble, of colossal proportions. The statue was executed in four years, and sent to Versailles, where it was afterwards converted into Marcus Curtius, and where, as such, it still remains.
BERNINI’S WORKS.
Bernini designed and wrought with wonderful facility; his life was one of continued exertion, and he lived to the great age of eighty-two years, so that he was enabled to execute an astonishing number of works. Richly endowed by nature, and favored by circumstances, he rose superior to the rules of art, creating for himself an easy manner, the faults of which he knew well how to disguise by its brilliancy; yet this course, as must ever be the case, did not lead to a lasting reputation. “The Cav. Bernini,” says Lanzi, “the great architect and skillful sculptor, was the arbiter and dispenser of all the works at Rome, under the pontificates of Urban VIII. and Innocent X. His style necessarily influenced those of all the artists, his cotemporaries. He was affected, particularly in his drapery. He opened the way to caprice, changed the true principles of art, and substituted for them the false. At different times, the study of painting has taken the same vicious course; above all, among the imitators of Pietro da Cortona, some of whom went so far as to condemn a study of the works of Raffaelle, and even to decry, as useless, the imitation of nature.” Bernini lived in splendor and magnificence, and left a fortune of 400,000 Roman crowns (about $700,000), to his children.
BERNINI AND THE VEROSPI HERCULES.
When the Verospi statue of Hercules killing the Hydra was first discovered, some parts of it, particularly the monster itself, were wanting, and were supplied by Bernini. Some years after, in further digging the same piece of ground, they found the hydra that originally belonged to it, which differs very much from Bernini’s supplemental one; yet the latter is given in Maffei’s Statues, and other books of prints, as the antique. The statue was removed from the Verospi palace to the Capitol, where it now is; and the original hydra, with a horned sort of a human face, snakes for hair, and a serpentine body, is there also, in the same court.
FANATICISM DESTRUCTIVE TO ART.
Queen Elizabeth was a bitter persecutor of art; she ordered all sacred pictures in the churches to be utterly destroyed, and the walls to be white-washed, so that no memorial of them might remain. In her reign, it became fashionable to sally forth and knock pictures and images to pieces. Flaxman says, “The commands for destroying sacred paintings and sculpture prevented the artist from suffering his mind to rise to the contemplation or execution of any sublime effort, as he dreaded a prison or a stake, and reduced him to the lowest drudgery in his profession. This extraordinary check to our national art occurred at a time which offered the most essential and extraordinary assistance to its progress.” Flaxman proceeds to remark, “the civil wars completed what fanaticism had begun, and English art was so completely extinguished that foreign artists were always employed for public or private undertakings.”
Charles I. was a great lover and patron of the fine arts, and during his reign they made rapid advances in England; but the blind zeal of the Puritans dispersed his splendid gallery, and destroyed almost every vestige of art. In the Journal of the House, July 23d, 1645, it is “Ordered, that all pictures having the second person of the Trinity, be burnt.” Walpole relates that “one Blessie was hired at half-a-crown a day to break the painted windows in Croydon church.” One Dowsing was employed from June 9th, 1642, to October 4th, 1644, in this holy business, and by calculation it is found that he and his agents had destroyed about 4660 pictures, evidently not all glass, because when they were glass he so specified them.
“The result of this continued persecution,” says Haydon, “was the ruin of high art, for the people had not taste enough to feel any sympathy for it independently of religion, and every man who has pursued it since, who had not a private fortune, and was not supported by a pension, like West, became infallibly ruined.”
PAINTINGS EVANESCENT.
“Few works are more evanescent than paintings. Sculpture retains its freshness for twenty centuries. The Apollo and the Venus are as they were. But books are perhaps the only productions of man coeval with the human race. Sophocles and Shakspeare can be produced and reproduced forever. But how evanescent are paintings, and must necessarily be! Those of Zeuxis and Apelles are no more, and perhaps they have the same relation to Homer and Æschylus, that those of Raffaelle and Guido have to Dante and Petrarch.
“There is however, one refuge from the despondency of this contemplation. The material part, indeed, of their works must perish, but they survive in the mind of man, and the remembrances of them are transmitted from generation to generation. The poet embodies them in his creations, and the systems of philosophers are modeled to gentleness by their contemplation; opinion, that legislator, is infected with their influence; men become better and wiser; and the unseen seeds are perhaps thus sown which shall produce a plant more excellent than that from which they fell.”—Shelley.
There is at least another refuge. Paintings are now rendered as permanent as books by engraving, or statuary, by mosaics. In the time of Pliny, there were Greek paintings in Rome 600 years old. There is a painting at Florence dated 886. It is also to be hoped that christianity and civilization have made such advances, that no more Goths, Vandals, Turks, and fanatics, will take pleasure in demolishing works of art as in ages past.
THE ENGLISH NATIONAL GALLERY.
“A fine gallery of pictures is a sort of illustration of Berkeley’s theory of matter and spirit. It is like a palace of thought—another universe, built of air, of shadows, of colors. Everything seems palpable to feeling as to sight: substances turn to shadows by the arch-chemic touch; shadows harden into substances; ‘the eye is made the fool of the other senses, or else worth all the rest.’ The material is in some sense embodied in the immaterial, or at least we see all things in a sort of intellectual mirror. The world of art is an enchanting deception. We discover distance in a glazed surface; a province is contained in a foot of canvass; a thin evanescent tint gives the form and pressure of rocks and trees; an inert shape has life and motion in it. Time stands still, and the dead reappear by means of this so potent art!
“What hues (those of nature mellowed by time) breathe around, as we enter! What forms are there woven into the memory! What looks, which only the answering looks of the spectator can express! What intellectual stores have been yearly poured forth from the shrine of ancient art! The works are various, but the names the same; heaps of Rembrandts frowning from their darkened walls—Rubens’ glad gorgeous groups—Titian’s more rich and rare—Claude always exquisite, sometimes beyond compare—Guido’s endless cloying sweetness—the learning of Poussin and the Caracci—and Raphael’s princely magnificence, crowning all. We read certain letters and syllables in the catalogue, and at the well-known magic sound a miracle of skill and beauty starts to view.
“Pictures are a set of chosen images, a stream of pleasant thoughts passing through the mind. It is a luxury to have the walls of our rooms hung round with them, and no less so to have such a gallery in the mind,—to con over the relics of ancient art bound up ‘within the book and volume of the brain, unmixed, (if it were possible) with baser matter.’ A life passed among pictures, in the study and love of art, is a happy, noiseless dream: or rather it is to dream and to be awake at the same time, for it has all ‘the sober certainty of waking bliss,’ with the romantic voluptuousness of a visionary and abstracted being. They are the bright consummate essence of things, and he who knows of these delights, ‘to taste and interpose them oft, is not unwise!’”—Hazlitt.
THE NUDE FIGURE.
“It is difficult to discover any settled rules of propriety in the different modes of dress, as all ages and nations have fluctuated with regard to their notions and fashions in this matter. The Greek statues of the Laocoön, Apollo, Meleager, Hercules; the Fighting and Dying Gladiator, and the Venus de Medicis, though altogether without drapery, yet surely there is nothing in them offensive to modesty, nothing immoral: on the contrary, looking on these figures, the mind of the spectator is taken up with the surprising beauty or sublimity of the personage, his great strength, vigorous and manly character; or those pains and agonies that so feelingly discover themselves throughout the whole work. It is not in showing or concealing the form that modesty or the want of it depends; that rises entirely from the choice and intentions of the artist himself. The Greeks and other great designers came into this practice (of representing the figure undraped) in order to show in its full extent the idea of character they meant to establish. If it was beauty, they show it to you in all the limbs; if strength, the same; and the agonies of the Laocoön are as discernible in his foot as in his face. This pure and naked nature speaks a universal language, which is understood and valued in all times and countries, where the Grecian dress, language, and manners are neither regarded or known. It is worth observing also that many of the fair sex do sometimes betray themselves by their over-delicacy (which is the want of all true delicacy) in this respect. But I am ashamed to be obliged to combat such silly affectations; they are beneath men who have either head or heart; they are unworthy of women who have either education or simplicity of manner; they would disgrace even waiting-maids and sentimental milliners-.”—Barry.
“There is no more potent antidote to low sensuality than the adoration of beauty. All the higher arts of design are essentially chaste, without respect of the object. They purify the thoughts, as tragedy, according to Aristotle, purifies the passions. Their accidental effects are not worth consideration. There are souls to whom even a vestal is not holy.”—A. W. von Schlegel.
DIFFERENT SCHOOLS OF PAINTING COMPARED.
“The painters of the Roman school were the best designers, and had more of the antique taste in their works than any of the others, but generally they were not good colorists. Those of Florence were good designers, and had a kind of greatness, but it was not antique. The Venetian and Lombard schools had excellent colorists, and a certain grace, but entirely modern, especially those of Venice; but their drawing was generally incorrect, and their knowledge in history and the antique very little. And the Bolognese school of the Caracci is a sort of composition of the others; even Annibal himself possessed not any part of painting in the perfection which is to be seen in those from whom his manner is composed, though, to make amends, he possessed more parts than perhaps any other master, and all in a very high degree. The works of those of the German school have a dryness and ungraceful stiffness, not unlike what is seen amongst the old Florentines. The Flemings were good colorists, and imitated nature as they conceived it—that is, instead of raising nature, they fell below it, though not so much as the Germans, nor in the same manner. Rubens himself lived and died a Fleming, though he would fain have been an Italian; but his imitators have caricatured his manner—that is, they have been more Rubens in his defects than he himself was, but without his excellencies. The French, excepting some few of them (N. Poussin, Le Sueur, Sebastian Bourdon), as they have not the German stiffness nor the Flemish ungracefulness, neither have they the Italian solidity; and in their airs of heads and manners they are easily distinguished from the antique, how much soever they may have endeavored to imitate it.”—Richardson.
THE OLD MASTERS.
“The duration and stability of the fame of the old masters of painting is sufficient to evince that it has not been suspended upon the slender thread of fashion and caprice, but bound to the human heart by every chord of sympathetic approbation.”—Sir J. Reynolds.
PRICES OF GALLERIES.
The prices given for the three great collections of paintings sold in England within the last century, may perhaps not be uninteresting. The Houghton gallery, of two hundred and thirty-two pictures, collected by Sir Robert Walpole, was sold to the Empress Catharine of Russia for £43,500. The Orleans gallery of two hundred and ninety-six pictures was sold in London, in 1798, for £43,555; and the Angerstein collection of thirty-eight pictures was bought by the British government, in 1823, for £57,000. This last purchase was the commencement of the English National Gallery.
LOVE MAKES A PAINTER.
Quintin Matsys, called the Blacksmith of Antwerp, was bred up to the trade of a blacksmith or farrier, which business he followed till he was twenty years of age, when, according to Lampsonius, his love for a blue-eyed lass, whose cruel father, an artist, refused her hand to any one but a painter, caused him to abandon his devotion to Vulcan, and inspired him with the ambition to become a worshipper at the shrine of the Muses. He possessed uncommon talents and genius, applied himself with great assiduity, and in a short time produced pictures that gave promise of the highest excellence, and gained him the fair hand for which he sighed. The inscription on the monument erected to his memory in the Cathedral of Notre Dame, at Antwerp, records in a few expressive words the singular story of his life: