THREE DIALOGUES ON PAINTING COMPOSED
BY FRANCISCO D'OLLANDA, A PORTUGUESE
MINIATURE PAINTER WHO WAS IN ROME
IN THE YEAR 1538. TRANSLATED
FROM THE PORTUGUESE, WITH
THE HELP OF MR. A.J. CLIFT,
BY CHARLES HOLROYD. THE
MANUSCRIPT WAS PUBLISHED
FOR THE FIRST
TIME IN THE RENASCENCA
PORTUGUEZA
NO. VII.
PORTO,
1896
My intention in going to Italy was not to seek for advantage or honour, but to study. I was sent there by my King, and I had no other interest in view (such as having intercourse with the Pope or with the Cardinals of the Court; and this God knows and Rome knows, if I had wished to dwell there per-adventure I did not lack opportunities, both for myself and by the favour of the principal persons in the Pope's household), but all ideas of this kind were so subdued in me, that I did not even allow them to enter into my imagination; others I had, more noble and more to my taste, which had much more power over me than covetousness or expectation of benefits such as many people have who go to Rome. What alone was always present to me was how I, with my art, might serve the king our Lord, who had sent me there, communing always with myself how I could steal and convey away to Portugal the excellencies and beauties of Italy to please the King and the Infantas and the most serene Infante D. Luiz. I used to say to myself: What fortresses or foreign cities have I not yet in my book? What immortal buildings and what noble statues does this city still possess which I have not already stolen from it and carried away without carts or ships on thin paper? What painting, stucco, or grotesque has been discovered amongst these grottoes and antiquities of Rome, Puzol, and Baias, of which the most rare is not to be found in my sketch-books? Thus I beheld nothing either antique or modern in painting, sculpture or architecture of [pg 270]which I did not make some record of its best part, it appearing to me that these were the greatest benefits that I could carry away with me, more honourable and profitable to the service of my King and to my own taste. I do not think I have made a mistake (although some people tell me I have), for as these things alone were my care, my dispute and demand, no great Cardinal Fernes had to help me, nor had I a greater Dattario to obtain, in order to go one day to see D. Julio de Macedonia, a most famous illuminator, and another day Master Michael Angelo, now Baccio the noble sculptor; then Master Perino, or Bastiäo Veneziano, and sometimes Valerio de Vicença, or Jacopo Mellequino, architect, and Lactancio Tolomei, the acquaintance and friendship of these men I valued much more than others of more parade and pretension (as if there could be greater in the world, and so Rome values them); because from them, and from their works in my art, I obtained some fruit and knowledge. I amused myself in discussing with them many rare and noble works both of ancient and modern times. Master Michael especially I esteemed so much that if I met him either in the palace of the Pope or in the street, we could not part until the stars sent us to rest. D. Pedro Mascarenhas, the Ambassador, is my witness what a great thing this was and how difficult; and, too, of the tales M. Angelo, when coming out of vespers one day, told about me and about a book of mine in which I had drawn some things in Rome and Italy, to Cardinal Santtiquatro and to him. Now my habit was to go round the solemn temple of the Pantheon and note all its columns and proportions; the Mausoleum of Adrian and that of Augustus, the Coliseum, the Thermæ of Antoninus and those of Diocletian, the Arch of Titus and that of Severus, the Capitol, the theatre of Marcellus and all the other notable things in that city, the names of which have already escaped me. At times, too, I was not turned out of the magnificent [pg 271]chambers of the Pope, I only went there because they were painted by the noble hand of Raphael of Urbino. I loved more those antique men of stone sculptured on the arches and columns of the old buildings, than those more inconstant which everywhere weary one with talking, I learned more from them and from their grave silence.
Now amongst the days which I thus passed in that Court there was a Sunday on which I went to see Messer Lactancio Tolomei, as others did; it was he, with the assistance of Messer Blosio, the Pope's secretary, who gave me the friendship of Michael Angelo. And this M. Lactancio was a very important personage, both on account of nobility of mind and of blood (he being a nephew of the Cardinal of Siena), as well as through his knowledge of Latin, Greek and Hebrew letters, and for the authority of his years. But finding in his house a message that he was at Monte Cavallo, in the church of St. Silvester, with the Lady Marchioness of Pescara, listening to a lecture from the Epistles of St. Paul, I went to Monte Cavallo and to St. Silvester. Now Senhora Vittoria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara, and sister of Senhor Ascanio Colonna, is one of the most illustrious and famous ladies in Italy and in all Europe, which is the world, chaste yet beautiful, a Latin scholar, well-informed and with all the other parts of virtue and fairness to be praised in woman. She, after the death of her great husband, took to a private and simple life, contenting herself with the fact that she had already lived in her estate, and loving henceforward only Jesu Christ and good deeds, doing good to poor women and bearing the fruits of a true Catholic. For my friendship with this lady also I was indebted to M. Lactancio, who was the most intimate friend that she had.
Having commanded me to sit down, the lecture and its praises over, the Marchioness looking at me and at M. Lactancio, if I remember rightly, said:
[pg 272]"Francisco d'Ollanda will be better pleased to hear M. Angelo talk about painting, than Brother Ambrosio expound this lesson."
Then I, almost angry, answered her:
Why, madam, does it appear to your Excellency that I can attend to nothing but painting? Truly I shall always be pleased to hear M. Angelo, but when the Epistles of St. Paul are read, I prefer to hear Brother Ambrosio."
"Do not be angry, M. Francisco," M. Lactancio then said, "for the Marchioness does not think that the man who is a painter will not be everything. We esteem painting higher in Italy. But perchance she said that to you in order to give you, beyond what you already have, the further pleasure of hearing Michael."
I then replied:
"Her Excellency will be doing no more than she is in the habit of doing, giving always greater favours than one dares to ask."
The Marchioness, knowing my mind, called one of her servants, and said, smiling:
"To those who know how to express thanks one must study how to give, especially as I get as much in the giving as Francisco d'Ollanda does in receiving. Foao, go to the house of M. Angelo and tell him that I and M. Lactancio are here in this quiet chapel, and that the church is closed and very pleasant, if he cares to come and lose a little of the day with us, so that we may gain it with him. And do not tell him that Francisco d'Ollanda, the Spaniard, is here."
As I was whispering something about the discretion of the Marchioness in everything, in the ear of Lactancio, she desired to know what it was about.
"He was telling me," said Lactancio, "how well your Excellency knows how to preserve decorum in everything, even in a message. M. Michael is already more his friend [pg 273]than mine, for he tells me that when they meet, Michael Angelo does all he can to shun his company, seeing that when they once come together they never can part."
"I know that, for I know Master Michael Angelo," she returned; "but I do not know in what manner we shall treat him so that we may lead him on to talk of painting."
Brother Ambrosio of Siena (one of the appointed preachers to the Pope), who had not yet gone, said: "I do not believe that if Michael knows the Spaniard to be a painter, he will talk about painting at all, therefore let him hide himself that he may hear him."
"It is perhaps not so easy to hide this Portuguese," I replied with emphasis to the Friar, "from the eyes of Master Michael Angelo; he will know me better hidden than your reverence does here where I am, even if you put on spectacles; and you will see that, being here, he will see me very plainly if he comes."
Then the Marchioness and Lactancio laughed, but not I nor yet the Friar, who however heard the Marchioness say that he would find me to be something more than a painter.
After remaining but a short time silent, we heard a knocking at the door, and all began to fear that Michael would not come, as the messenger had returned so quickly. But Michael, who resides at the foot of Monte Cavallo, happened by good luck to be walking towards St. Silvester, on his way to the Thermae by the Esquiline road with his Orbino, philosophising by the way; being informed of the message, he could not run away from us, nor did he fail to be the person knocking at the door. The Marchioness rose to receive him, and remained standing awhile before causing him to take a seat between her and M. Lactancio. I sat a little way off, but the Marchioness, remaining awhile without speaking, not wishing to delay her practice of honouring those who conversed with her, and the place where she was, commenced, with an art that [pg 274]I could not describe, to say many things very well expressed, and with thoughts most graciously stated, without ever touching on painting, in order to ensure the great painter to us; and I saw her as one wishing to reduce a well armed city by discretion and guile; and we saw the painter, too, standing watchful and vigilant, as if he were besieged, placing sentries in one place and ordering bridges to be raised in another, making mines and defending all the walls and towers; but finally the Marchioness had to conquer, nor do I know who could defend himself against her.
She said: "It is known that whoever comes into conflict with M. Angelo in his own speciality, which is discretion, cannot but be vanquished. It is necessary, M. Lactancio, that we should talk with him about actions or briefs or painting to put him to silence and to obtain any advantage over him."
"Nay," I then said, "I know of no better way of wearying M. Angelo than by informing him that I am here, as he has not seen me hitherto. But I already know that the way not to see a person is to have him before one's eyes."
You should then have seen Michael turn himself towards me with astonishment, and say:
"Forgive me, M. Francisco, for not having seen you for had I not the Marchioness before my eyes, but as God has sent you here, assist and help me as a comrade."
"For that reason only will I forgive you; but it seems to me that the Marchioness causes with one light contrary effects, as the sun does, which with the same rays melts and hardens, because you were blinded by seeing her and I both hear and see you, because I see her; and also because I know how much a wise person will occupy himself with her Excellency, and how little time she leaves for others; and therefore at times I do not take the advice of some friars."
Here the Marchioness laughed again.
Then Friar Ambrosio rose and took leave of the Marchioness [pg 275]and of us, remaining thenceforward a great friend of mine, and he went away.
And now the Marchioness began to speak thus:
"His Holiness has done me the favour of allowing me to build a nunnery for ladies here at the foot of Monte Cavallo, by the broken portico, where it is said that Nero saw Rome burning, so that the wicked footprints of such a man may be trodden out by others more honest of holy women. I do not know, M. Angelo, what shape and proportions to give to the house, where the door should be placed, and whether some of the old work may be adapted to the new?"
"Yes, madam," said Michael, "the broken portico might be used as a campanile."
And this was so pleasant, and Michael said it so seriously and in such a manner that M. Lactancio could not help calling attention to it; and the great painter added these words:
"I quite think your Excellency may build the nunnery; and when we leave here, with your permission, we may very well go and look at the site, so as to give you some drawing for it."
"I did not dare to ask you for so much," she said, "but I already knew that in everything you follow the doctrine of the Lord: deposuit potentes, exaltavit humiles; and in that also you are excellent, for you acknowledge yourself at last as discreetly generous and not as an ignorant prodigal. And therefore in Rome those who know you esteem you even more than your works; and those who do not know you esteem only the least of you, which are the works of your hands. And certainly I do not give any less praise to your knowledge of how to retire within yourself and fly from our useless conversations, and to your wisdom in not painting for all the princes who ask you to do so, but confining yourself to the painting of a single work during all your life as you have done,"
"Madam," said Michael, "perchance you attribute to me [pg 276]more than I deserve; but in doing so you remind me that I wish to make a complaint against many persons, on my own behalf and on behalf of painters of my temperament, and also on behalf of M. Francisco here.
"There are many persons who maintain a thousand lies, and one is that eminent painters are eccentric and that their conversation is intolerable and harsh, they are only human all the while, and thus fools and unreasonable persons consider them fantastic and fanciful, allowing them with much difficulty the conditions necessary to a painter. It is quite true that such conditions are only necessary where there is a real painter, which is in very few places, as in Italy, where there is the perfection of all things; but foolish, idle persons are unreasonable in expecting so many compliments from a busy man: few mortals fulfil their duty well, one who does will not accuse another who is fulfilling his; painters are not in any way unsociable through pride, but either because they find few pursuits equal to painting, or in order not to corrupt themselves with the useless conversation of idle people, and debase the intellect from the lofty imaginations in which they are always absorbed. And I affirm to your Excellency that even his Holiness annoys and wearies me when at times he talks to me and asks me somewhat roughly why do I not come to see him, for I believe that I serve him better in not going when he asks me, little needing me, when I wish to work for him in my house; and I tell him that, as M. Angelo, I serve him more thus than by standing before him all day, as others do,"
"Oh, happy M. Angelo," said I at this stage, "my prince is not a Pope, can he forgive me such a sin?"
"Such sins, M. Francisco, are just those which kings pardon," said he, and added: "Sometimes, I may tell you, my important duties have given me so much licence that when, as I am talking to the Pope, I put this old felt hat non-chalantly [pg 277]on my head, and talk to him very frankly, but even for that he does not kill me; on the contrary, he has given me a livelihood.187 And as I say, I have paid him more compliments in his service than unnecessary ones to his person. If perchance a man were so blind as to invent such an unprofitable exchange, as it is for a man to separate himself and content himself with himself whilst he loses his friends and makes enemies of all, would it not be very wrong if they bore him ill-will for that? But whoever has such a complexion both because the force of his duty demands it, and because of his having been born with a dislike of ceremony and dissimulation, it seems very foolish not to allow him to live. And if such a man is so moderate that he does not want anything of you, what do you want with him? And why should you wish to use him in those vanities for which his quietness is not fitted? Do you not know that there are sciences that require the whole man without ever leaving him free for your idle trivialities? When he has as little to do as you have, let him be killed if he does not observe your rules of etiquette and compliment even better than you. You only seek his company and praise him in order to obtain honour through him for yourselves, nor do you really mind what sort of man he is, so long as a pope or an emperor converse with him. And I dare affirm that he cannot be a great man who tries to satisfy idle persons rather than the men of his own craft, nor can one who is in nowise singular and reserved or whatever you may be pleased to call it, be better than the ordinary and vulgar talents which are to be found without a lantern in the market-places of the world...."
Here Michael ceased speaking, and a little while afterwards the Marchioness said:
[pg 278]"If those friends of whom you are speaking had the discretion of the friends of old, the evil would be smaller; when Arcesilaus went one day to see Apelles, who was ill and in need, this good friend raised his artist's head so as to arrange the pillow and put underneath a sum of money for his cure, which sum, having been found by the old woman attending him, who was frightened at the amount, Apelles, smiling, said: 'This money was stolen from Arcesilaus; do not be astonished.'"
Then Lactancio added, in this manner, his opinion: "Skilful artists would not exchange places with any other kind of men however great they may be, so satisfied are they with some special joyousness which they get from their art; but I would counsel them to exchange at least with the happy ones, if it seemed to me that they wished to do so, and were it not that they consider themselves the most happy of mortals. The mind which is capable of the very highest painting knows where the lives and pleasures of the pre-sumptuous lead them and what they are, and how they die nameless and without knowledge of the things which in the world are most worthy of being known and esteemed, and how we cannot even remember that such a man was born however much money he may have kept in his coffers. And thus he understands that good work and the good name of immortal virtue is the felicity of this life and all or almost all that is to be desired; and therefore he esteems himself more because he is on the road to attain that glory than one who does not know this and never even knew how to desire it. Many are content with much less power than that of imitating a work of God as in painting; and if one never attained to the distinction of governing a great province, it is but human to be satisfied with things which are more difficult and more uncertain than governing a country which stretched from the Columns of Hercules to the Indian River [pg 279]Ganges. Such an one never killed an enemy more difficult to conquer than is the conforming the work to the desire or idea of the great painter, and the one was never so satisfied drinking out of a golden cup as the other drinking out of an earthen pot. Nor was the Emperor Maximilian wrong in saying that he could indeed make a duke or a count, but as for an excellent painter God alone could make him when He so pleased, for which reason he abstained from putting to death a painter who deserved to die."
"What do you advise me to do, Master Lactancio," the Marchioness then said; "shall I put a question to M. Angelo about painting, as he now, in order to prove to me that great men are justified in their ways and not eccentric, may take measures like those he is accustomed to take?"
And Lactancio: "For your Excellency, Madam, M. Michael cannot help constraining himself and giving out here that which it is well that he keeps close elsewhere."
M. Angelo said: "I beg of your Excellency to tell me what I can give to her and it shall be given."
And she, smiling: "I very much wish to know, as we are dealing with this subject, what you think of the painting of Flanders and whom it will satisfy, because it appears to me more devout than the Italian style."
"The painting of Flanders, Madam," answered the artist slowly, "will generally satisfy any devout person more than the painting of Italy, which will never cause him to drop a single tear, but that of Flanders will cause him to shed many; this is not owing to the vigour and goodness of that painting, but to the goodness of such devout person; women will like it, especially very old ones, or very young ones. It will please likewise friars and nuns, and also some noble persons who have no ear for true harmony. They paint in Flanders, only to deceive the external eye, things that gladden you and of which you cannot speak ill, and saints and prophets. [pg 280]Their painting is of stuffs, bricks and mortar, the grass of the fields, the shadows of trees, and bridges and rivers, which they call landscapes, and little figures here and there; and all this, although it may appear good to some eyes, is in truth done without reasonableness or art, without symmetry or proportion, without care in selecting or rejecting, and finally without any substance or verve, and in spite of all this, painting in some other parts is worse than it is in Flanders. Neither do I speak so badly of Flemish painting because it is all bad, but because it tries to do so many things at once (each of which alone would suffice for a great work) so that it does not do anything really well.
"Only works which are done in Italy can be called true painting, and therefore we call good painting Italian, for if it were done so well in another country, we should give it the name of that country or province. As for the good painting of this country, there is nothing more noble or devout, for with wise persons nothing causes devotion to be remembered, or to arise, more than the difficulty of the perfection which unites itself with and joins God; because good painting is nothing else but a copy of the perfections of God and a reminder of His painting. Finally, good painting is a music and a melody which intellect only can appreciate, and with great difficulty. This painting is so rare that few are capable of doing or attaining to it. And I further say (which whoever notes it will consider important) that of all the climates or countries lighted by the sun and the moon, in no other can one paint well but in the kingdom of Italy; and it is a thing which is nearly impossible to do well except here, even though there were more talented men in the other provinces, if there could be such, and this for reasons which we will give you. Take a great man from another kingdom, and tell him to paint whatever he likes and can do best, and let him do it; and take a bad Italian apprentice and order [pg 281]him to make a drawing, or to paint whatever you like, and let him do it; you will find, if you understand it well, that the drawing of that apprentice, as regards art, has more substance than that of the other master, and what he attempted to do is worth more than everything that the other ever did. Order a great master, who is not an Italian, even though it be Alberto,188 a man delicate in his manner, in order to deceive me, or Francisco d'Ollanda there, to counterfeit a work which shall be like an Italian work, and if it cannot be a very good one let it be an ordinary or a bad painting, and I assure you that it will be immediately recognised that the work was not done in Italy, nor by the hand of an Italian. I likewise affirm that no nation or people (I except one or two Spaniards) can perfectly satisfy or imitate the Italian manner of painting (which is the old Greek manner) without his being immediately recognised as a foreigner, whatever efforts he may make, and however hard he may work to do so. And if by some great miracle such a foreigner should succeed in painting well, then, although he may not have done it in order to imitate Italian work, it will be said that he painted like an Italian. Thus it is that all painting done in Italy is not called Italian painting, but all that is good and direct is, for in this country works of illustrious painting are done in a more masterly and more serious manner than in any other place. We call good painting Italian, which painting, even though it be done in Flanders or in Spain (which approaches us most) if it be good, will be Italian painting, for this most noble science does not belong to any country, as it came from heaven; but even from ancient times it remained in our Italy more than in any other kingdom in the world, and I think that it will end in it."
So he spoke. Seeing that Michael was now silent, I urged [pg 282]him on in this manner. "So, Master Michael Angelo, you assert that out of all the nations of the world it is only Italians who can paint? (Ollanda continues.)
"But what wonder in that? You must know that in Italy painting is done well for many reasons, and outside Italy painting is done badly for many reasons. Firstly, the nature of the Italians is studious in the extreme, and the talented already bring with them, when they are born, power of work, taste and love of that to which they are inclined, and of that which demands their genius; and if any one determines to make a profession, and to pursue some art or liberal science, he does not content himself with what is sufficient for him to become rich thereby, and one of the number of the craftsmen, but in order to be unique and distinguished he watches and works continuously, and keeps before his eyes the great hope of being a paragon of perfection (I speak where I know I am believed) and not a mere mediocrity in that art or science. This is because Italy does not esteem mediocrity, deeming it an exceedingly poor thing; and speaks only of those, and even praises them to the skies, who, like eagles, surpass all others, and penetrating the clouds approach the light of the sun. Then, again, you are born in a province (is not this an advantage?) which is the mother and protectress of all sciences and disciplines, amongst so many relics of your ancestors, which do not exist anywhere else, that already as children you find before your eyes in the streets a great part of whatever your inclination or genius may be inclined to; and from youth upwards you are accustomed to see those things which old men never saw in other kingdoms. Then, growing up, although you may have been rude and rough, by nature you are already so accustomed to have your eyes full of the forms of the many old things of renown, that you cannot fail to imitate them; and to all this are joined (as I say) distinguished talent and indefatigable study and taste. You [pg 283]have remarkable masters to imitate, and their works, and as regards new works the cities are full of the curious things and novelties which are discovered and found every day. And if all these things do not suffice, although I should consider them quite sufficient for the perfection of any science, at least this is quite enough; namely, that we, Portuguese, although some of us may be born with nice talent and minds—as many are born—have a contempt for and consider it fine to take little account of the arts, and we almost feel it a disgrace to know much about them, wherefore we always leave them imperfect and unfinished. You Italians alone, (I cannot even say Germans or Frenchmen), give the greatest honour, the greatest nobility and the power to be more, to a man who is a splendid painter or splendid in some faculty; and of all your noblemen, captains, wise men, satirists, cardinals and Popes, that man only who may attain the reputation of being perfect and rare in his profession is ever exalted or thought much of by you. And as great princes are not esteemed nor have any name in Italy, so it is a painter alone that they call the divine—Michael Angelo, as you will find in letters which Aretino, satirist of all Christian gentlemen, wrote you. Now, the payments and prices that in Italy are given for paintings also appear to me to have a great deal to do with the fact that painting cannot be done anywhere but here, because frequently for a head or face from nature one thousand 'cruzados' are paid, and many other works are paid for as you, gentlemen, know better than I, very differently from the way they are paid for in other kingdoms, seeing that mine is among the magnificent and wide. Now, your Excellency, please to judge whether these be hindrances or helps."
"It seems to me," answered the Marchioness, "that before these hindrances you must place talent and knowledge, which are not transalpine but belong to the good Italian; however, [pg 284]everywhere virtue is the same, good is the same, and evil is the same, although they may have a different civilisation from ours."
"If that," I answered, "were heard in my country, well, Madam, they would be astonished both at your Excellency praising me and in that manner, and by your making that difference between Italians and other men whom you call 'transalpine,' or from beyond the mountains:
"We have, Madam, in Portugal, good and ancient cities, and principally my birthplace, Lisbon; we have good manners, and good courtiers and valiant cavaliers and courageous princes, both in war and in peace, and above all we have a very powerful and splendid king, who with great calmness tempers and governs us, and commands very distant provinces of barbarians, whom he has converted to the Faith; and he is feared by the whole East and by the whole of Mauritania and is a patron of the Fine Arts, so much so that, through making a mistake as to my talent, which in my youth promised some fruit, he sent me to see Italy and its civilisation, and Master Michael Angelo, whom I see here. It is quite true that we have not such buildings and pictures as you have, but they are already being made, and little by little they are losing that barbarian superfluity that the Goths and Moors sowed throughout Spain. I also hope that, on arriving in Portugal after leaving here, I may assist either in the elegance of building or in the nobility of painting, so that we may be able to compete with you. Our science is almost entirely lost, and without honour or renown in those kingdoms, and not through the fault of others, but through the fault of the place and disusage, to such extent that very few esteem it or understand it unless it be our most serene king, by supporting all virtue [pg 285]and patronising it; and likewise the most serene infante D. Luiz, his brother, a very valorous and wise prince, who has a very nice knowledge and discretion in every liberal art. All the others neither understand nor esteem painting."
"They do well," said M. Angelo.
But Master Lactancio Tolomei, who had not spoken for some time, proceeded in this manner:
"We Italians have this very great advantage over all other nations in this great world, in the knowledge and honour of all the illustrious and most worthy arts and sciences. But I would have you to know, M. Francisco d'Ollanda, that whoever does not understand and esteem the most noble art of painting does so because of his own defects and not because of the art, which is very noble and clear; and because he is a barbarian and without judgment, and has no honourable part in being a man. And this is proved by the example of the most powerful old and modern emperors and kings, and of the philosophers and wise persons who attained everything, and who so greatly esteemed and appreciated the knowledge of painting, and spoke of it with such high praises and examples, and in making use of it and paying for it so liberally and magnificently and, finally, by the great honour that the Mother Church does it, with the holy Pontiffs, cardinals, and great princes and prelates. And so you will find in all the past centuries, all the past valorous peoples and nations held this art in so much honour, that they admired nothing more nor considered anything as a greater wonder. And then we see Alexander the Great, Demetrius, and Ptolomy, famous kings, together with many other princes, who readily boast of understanding it; and amongst the Cæsars, Augustus the divine Cæsar, Octavian Augustus, M. Agrippa, Claudius, and Caligula and Nero, in this alone virtuous, likewise Vespasian and Titus, as was shown in the famous retable of the Temple of Peace, which he built after having vanquished the Jews and their [pg 286]Jerusalem. What shall I say of the great Emperor Trajan? What of Helius Adrianus, who with his own hand painted singularly well, as the Greek Dion writes in his life, and Spartianus? Then the divine Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Julius Capitolinus, says how he learned to paint, Diognetus being his teacher; and even Ælius Lampridius relates that the Emperor Severus Alexander, who was an exceedingly powerful prince, himself painted his genealogy to show that he descended from the lineage of the Metelos. Of the great Pompey, Plutarch says that in the city of Mitylene he drew with a style the plan and shape of the theatre, in order to have it afterwards built in Rome, which he did.
"And although, owing to its great effects and beauties, noble painting merits all veneration without seeking praise from other virtues, beside those proper to it, I still wished to show here, before one who knows it, by what sort of men it was esteemed. And if by chance, at any time or in any place, there should be found any one who, because of being highly placed and great, refuses to esteem this art, let him know that others still greater appreciated it greatly. Who can compare himself with Alexander the Greek? Who will exceed the prowess of Cæsar the Roman? Who is of greater glory than Pompey? Who more a prince than Trajan? For these Alexanders and Cæsars not only dearly loved the divine painting, and paid great prices for it, but with their own hands they occupied themselves with it and touched it. Or who, out of bravery and presumption, will despise it and be not rather very humble and very unworthy before painting, before her severe and grave face?"
Thus it seemed that Lactancio was finishing, when the Marchioness proceeded, saying:
"Or who will be the virtuous and serene man (if he despises it for its sanctity) who will not show great reverence and adore the spiritual contemplation and devotion of holy [pg 287]painting? I think that time would sooner be lacking than material for the praises of this virtue. It produces joy in the melancholy, it brings both the contented and the angry man to the knowledge of human misery; it moves the obstinate to compunction, the mundane to penitence, the contemplative to contemplation, and the fearful to shame. It shows us death and what we are, more gently than in any other way; the torments and dangers of hell; so far as is possible, it represents to us the glory and peace of the blessed, and the incomprehensible image of our Lord God. It represents to us the modesty of His saints, the constancy of the martyrs, the purity of the virgins, the beauty of the angels, and the love and ardour with which the seraphim burn, better than in any other way, and lifts up our spirit and plunges our mind into the depths beyond the stars, to imagine the empirean that there exists. What shall I say of how it brings before us the worthies who passed away so long ago, and whose bones even are not now upon this earth, to enable us to imitate them in their bright deeds? Or how it shows us their councils and battles by examples and delightful histories? Their great deeds, their piety and their manners? To captains it shows the manoeuvres of the old armies, the cohorts and their disposition, their discipline and their military order. It animates and creates daring, by emulation and an honest envy of the famous ones, as Scipio the African confessed.
"It leaves a memorial of the present times for those who come after. Painting shows us the garb of the pilgrim or of antiquity, the variety of foreign peoples and nations, buildings, animals, and monsters, which in writing it would be prolix to hear about, and even then it would be but badly understood. And not only these things does this noble art, but it places before our eyes the image of any great man who should be seen and known because of his deeds, and [pg 288]likewise the beauty of a woman who is separated from us by many leagues, a thing on which Pliny reflects much. To one who dies it gives many years of life, his own face remaining behind painted, and his wife is consoled, seeing daily before her the image of her deceased husband, and the sons who were left little children rejoice when men to know the presence and the aspect of their dear father, and fear to shame him."
As the Marchioness, almost weeping, made a pause here, M. Lactancio, in order to draw her out of her sorrowful imagination and memories, said:
"Besides all these things, which are great, what is there that more ennobles or makes other things more beautiful than painting, whether on arms, in temples, in palaces, or fortresses, or anywhere else where beauty and order may have a place? And so great minds assert that there is nothing a man can find to fight against his mortality or against the flight of time but painting only. Nor did Pithagoras depart from this view when he said that only in three things were men similar to the immortal God: in science, in painting, and in music."
Here Master Michael said:
"I am sure that if in your Portugal, M. Francisco, they were to see the beauty of the painting that is in some houses in Italy, they could not be so uncultured as not to esteem it greatly, and wish to attain to it; but it is not surprising that they do not know or appreciate what they have never seen and what they do not possess." Here M. Angelo rose, showing that it was already time for him to retire and go; and likewise the Marchioness rose; I asked her as a favour to invite all that distinguished company for the following day in that same place, and that M. Angelo should not fail to appear. She did so, and he promised that he would come. And the Marchioness going with the rest, M. Lactancio left with [pg 289]Michael, and I and Diogo Zapata, a Spaniard, went with the Marchioness from the monastery of St. Silvester at Monte Cavallo to the other monastery where there is the head of St. John the Baptist, and where the Marchioness resides, and we left her with the mothers and nuns, and I went to my residence.
All that night I thought of the past day, and was preparing myself for the one to come; but it frequently happens that our arrangements prove uncertain and vain, and very contrary to what we expect, as I then learnt. On the following day M. Lactancio sent me word that we could not meet as we had arranged, owing to certain business matters which had cropped up both for the Lady Marchioness and likewise for Michael Angelo himself, but he asked me to be at St. Silvester's in eight days' time, as that day had been agreed upon.
I found those eight days long, but finally, when Sunday came, the time appeared to me to have been but short, for I should have liked to have been better armed with knowledge for such a noble company. When I arrived at St. Silvester the lesson from the Epistles which Friar Ambrose read was finished and he was gone, and they were beginning to complain of my being late and about me.
After they had pardoned me, I having confessed to being a laggard, and after the Marchioness had bantered me a little, and I Messer Angelo in my turn, I obtained permission to proceed with the former conversation about painting; I commenced saying:
"I think, Senhor Michael Angelo, that last Sunday, when we were about to part, you told me that if in the kingdom of Portugal, which you here call Spain, they were to see the noble [pg 290]pictures of Italy, they would esteem them greatly, for which reason I beg as a favour (for I have come here for nothing else) that you will not disdain to inform me what famous works in painting there are in Italy, so that I may know how many I have already seen, and how many I still have to see."
"You ask me a question which would take long to answer, M. Francisco," said M. Angelo, "wide and difficult to put together, for we know that there is no prince or private person or nobleman in Italy, or any one of any pretension, however little curious he may be about painting (to say nothing of those excellent ones who adore it), who does not take steps to have some relic of divine painting, or who at least, in so far as he can, does not order many works to be executed. So that a good portion of the beauty of our art is spread over many noble cities, castles, country-seats, palaces and temples, and other private and public buildings; but as I have not seen them all in an orderly manner, I can only speak of some which are the principal ones.
"In Siena there is some singular painting in the Municipal Chamber and in other places; in Florence, my native place, in the Palaces of the Medici, there is a grotesque by Giovanni da Udine, and so throughout Tuscany. In Urbino, the Palace of the Duke, who was himself half a painter, has a great deal of praiseworthy work, and also in his country-seat called 'Imperial,' near Pesaro, erected by his wife, there is some very magnificent painting. So, too, the Palace of the Duke of Mantua, where Andrea painted the Triumph of Caius Cæsar, is noble; but more so still is the work of the Stable, painted by Julius, a pupil of Raphael, who now flourishes in Mantua. In Ferrara we have the painting of Dosso in the Palace of Castello, and in Padua they also praise the loggia of M. Luis, and the Fortress of Lenhago. Now in Venice there are admirable works by Chevalier Titian, a valiant man in painting and in drawing from nature, in the [pg 291]Library of St. Mark, some in the House of the Germans, and others in churches and in other good hands; and the whole of that city is a good painting.
"So in Pisa, in Lucca, in Bologna, in Piacenza, in Parma, where there is the Parmesano,189 in Milan, and in Naples. So in Genoa there is the house of Prince Doria, painted by Master Perino, with great judgment, especially the Storm of the Vessels of Æneas, in oils, and the ferocity of Neptune and his sea-horses; and likewise in another room there is a fresco, Jupiter fighting against the giants in Phlegra, overthrowing them with thunderbolts; and nearly the whole city is painted inside and out. And in many other castles and cities of Italy, such as Orvieto, Esi,190 Ascoli, and Como, there are pictures nobly painted, and all of great price, for I only speak of such; and if we were to speak of the private paintings and pictures that every one holds dearer than life, it would be to speak of the innumerable, and there are to be found in Italy some cities which are nearly all painted with tolerable painting, inside and out."
It seemed that Michael was coming to a conclusion, when the Lady Marchioness, looking at me, said:
"Do you not remark, M. Francisco, that M. Michael abstained from speaking of Rome, the mother of painting, so as not to talk of his own works? Now what he would not do, let us not fail to do for the purpose of ensnaring him the more, for when one deals with famous paintings, no other has such value as the fount from which they are derived and proceed. And this work is in the head and fount of the Church, I mean in St. Peter's in Rome; a great vault, in fresco, with its circuit and curvatures of arches, and a façade, in which M. Angelo divinely made us understand and divided into histories how God first created the world, with many images of Sibyls and figures of exceedingly great artistic beauty [pg 292]and artifice. And what is singular is, that doing nothing more than this work, which as yet he has not completed, and having commenced it when a youth, there is therein comprised the work of twenty painters united in that vault alone. Raphael of Urbino painted in this city a second work of such art that it would have been the first if the other had not existed. It is a hall and two chambers and a loggia in fresco, in the palaces of the said St. Peter, a magnificent thing of many elegant stories of a very decorous description. And the story of Apollo playing his harp amongst the nine muses in the Parnasus is singular. In the house191 of Augustimguis (Chigi) Raphael has painted very preciously a poetry, the story of Psyche, and very gracefully he surrounded Galatea by mermen in the middle of the waves and by cupids in the air. The picture in S. Pietro in Montorio of the Transfiguration of our Lord,192 in oils, is very good, and another in Aracœli, and in the Temple of Peace, in fresco.193 The picture in S. Pietro in Montorio by the hand of Bastiäo Veneziano194 is famous; he did it in competition with Raphael. There are many facades of palaces in this city, in white and black,195 by Baltesar196 di Siena, architect, and by Marturino and by Polidoro, a man who in that manner of working magnificently enriched Rome. Further, there are here many palaces of Cardinals and other men painted in grotesque and in stucco and with many other varieties of art, for the city is more painted than any other in the whole world, apart from the private pictures that every one holds dearer than life itself. But of the things outside the city, the Vigna, begun by Pope Clement VII., at the foot of Monte Mario, is most worth seeing; [pg 293]it is ornamented by the fine painting and sculpture of Raphael and Julius, where the giant lies sleeping, whose feet the satyrs are measuring with shepherds' crooks. You now see whether these are works which would lead us to be silent about our city."
And she was already ceasing to speak, when I remembered me, and said:
"No doubt your Excellency also forgot the famous tomb or chapel of the Medici in San Lorenzo, at Florence, painted in marble by M. Angelo, with such a generous number of statues in full relief that it can certainly compete with any of the great works of antiquity; where the goddess or image of Night, sleeping above the nocturnal bird, and the melancholy Death in Life pleased me the most, although there are there many noble sculptures around the Dawn. But I cannot omit the mention of a painting which I saw, even though it was outside Italy, in France or Provence, in the City of Avignon, in a Franciscan monastery: it is that of a dead woman who had been very beautiful, she was called the Beautiful Anna; a king of France who liked painting and who painted (if I am not mistaken) called Reynel, came to Avignon and inquired whether the Beautiful Anna was there because he greatly desired to see her to paint her from life, and having been told that she had died shortly before, the king caused her to be disinterred to see whether still in her bones there were some traces of her beauty. He found her clothed, in the old style, as if she were alive, with her golden hair dressed on her head, but all the gay beauty of the face, which alone was uncovered, had changed into a skull; notwithstanding this, the painter king considered it so beautiful that he painted her from nature, surrounding his work with verses which mourn and are still mourning for her. Which work I saw in that place and I thought it very worthy."
All were pleased with my picture, and M. Angelo added [pg 294]that in Narbonne I would have also seen the picture St. Sebastian in the Cathedral, and he said:
"In France there is some good painting, and the King of France has many palaces and pleasure houses with innumerable paintings, both in Fontainebleau, where the king kept together two hundred painters, well paid, for a certain time; and in Madrid, the pleasure house which he built, where he voluntarily imprisons himself at times, in memory of Madrid in Spain where he was a prisoner."
"I think," said M. Lactancio, "that I heard a while ago Francisco d'Ollanda name amongst paintings the tomb that you, Senhor Michael, sculptured in marble; but I do not understand how sculpture can be called painting."
Then I began to laugh heartily, and begging permission of the Master, said:
"To save Senhor Michael trouble I will reply to Senhor Lactancio concerning this doubt of his, which has followed me here from my own country.
"As you will find that all the employments which have most art and reasonableness and grace are those which most nearly approach the drawing or painting, so those which most nearly approach it proceed from it and are a part or member of it, such as sculpture or statuary, which is nothing else but painting itself, although it may well appear to some to be a separate art; it is, however, condemned to serve painting, its mistress.
"And this I will give as a sufficient proof (as your Excellencies well know), that in the books we find Phidias and Praxiteles called painters, whilst it is certain that they were sculptors in marble, seeing that the statues from their hands in stone are here near us, on this hill, the horses which they made, which King Teridade sent to Nero as a present, for which reason in recent times this place is called Monte Cavallo. And should this not be enough, I will add how [pg 295]Donatello (who, with the permission of Master Michael, was one of the first modern ones who in sculpture merited fame and name in Italy) never said anything else to his pupils, when teaching them, but draw, telling them in a single word of doctrine: 'Pupils, I give you the whole art of sculpture when I tell you—draw!' And so Pomponio Gaurico, sculptor, also affirms in the book he wrote 'De Re Statuaria.' But why do I seek examples and proofs afar, when perchance they are near me? And so as not to speak of myself, I say the great draughtsman, M. Angelo, who is here, also sculptures in marble, which is not his art, and better even (if one may say it) than he paints with the brush on a panel, and he himself has told me sometimes that he finds the sculpture of stone less difficult than the using of colours, and that he deems it to be a very much greater thing to make a masterly stroke with the brush than with the chisel. And even a famous draughtsman, if he so desires, will by himself sculpture and carve in hard marble, in bronze and in silver, exceedingly large statues in full relief (which is a great thing), without ever having taken a chisel in his hand; and this is owing to the great virtue and power of drawing. It does not, therefore, follow that a sculptor will know how to paint or how to hold a brush, nor will he know how to paint and make a stroke like a master, as I learnt a few days ago on going to see Baccio Blandino,197 the sculptor, whom I found trying to paint in oils and unable to do so. The draughtsman will be a master in building palaces or temples, and will carve statues and will paint pictures; for the said Master Michael and Raphael and Baltesar di Siena,198 famous painters, taught architecture and sculpture, and Baltesar di Siena, after briefly studying that art, equalled Bramante, a most eminent architect, who passed all his life in its discipline, and yet he used to say that it gave him an advantage, for he appreciated the invention, [pg 296]fancy and freedom of drawing. I am speaking of true painters."
"But I say, Senhor Lactancio," said Michael, assisting M. Francisco, "that the painter of whom he speaks not only will be instructed in liberal arts and other sciences such as architecture and sculpture, which are his own province, but also in all other manual crafts which are practised throughout the world; should he wish, he will do them with more art than the actual masters of them. However that may be, I sometimes set myself thinking and imagining that I find amongst men but one single art or science, and that is drawing or painting, all others being members proceeding therefrom; for if you carefully consider all that is being done in this life you will find that each person is, without knowing it, painting this world, creating and producing new forms and figures here, in dress and the various garbs, in building and occupying spaces with painted buildings and houses, in cultivating the fields and ploughing the land into pictures and sketches, in navigating the seas with sails, in fighting and dividing the spoil, and finally in the 'firmamentos' and burials and in all other operations, movements and actions. I leave out all the handicrafts and arts, of which painting is the principal fount, of which some are rivers which spring from it, such as sculpture and architecture; some are brooks, such as mechanical trades; and some are stagnant ponds, which do not flow (such as useless handicrafts like cutting out with scissors and such like), formed from the waters of the flood when drawing overflowed its banks in old time and inundated everything under its dominion and empire, as one sees in the works of the Romans, all done in the manner of painting. In all their painted buildings and fabrics, in all works in gold, silver, or in metals, in all their vases and ornaments, and even in the elegance of their coins, and in their dress and armour, in their triumphs as well as in all [pg 297]their other operations and works, one easily recognises how, in the time when they held sway over all the earth, my lady painting was the universal sovereign and mistress of all their deeds and trades and sciences, extending herself even to writing, and composing or writing histories. So that whosoever well considers and understands human works, will find without doubt that they are all either painting itself or some part of painting; and although the painter be capable of inventing what has not as yet been found, and of doing all the handicrafts of the others with much more grace and elegance than their own professors, yet no one but he can be a true painter or draughtsman."
"I am satisfied," answered Lactancio, "and understand better the great power of painting, which, as you stated, is seen in all things of the ancients and even in writing and composing. And perhaps notwithstanding your great imagination you will not have been as much struck as I have been with the conformity which letters have with painting (for you will certainly hold letters to be a part of painting); nor by how these two sciences are such legitimate sisters that, if one be separated from the other, neither is perfect, although it seems that these present times keep them in some way separated. But yet every learned and consummate man will find that in all his works he is always exercising to a great extent the office of a good painter, painting and colouring some intention of his with much care and devotion. Now in opening the old books, the famous ones are few which are not like painting; and it is certain that those which are the heaviest and most confused are so for no other reason but because the writers are not good draughtsmen and are not very skilful in drawing and dividing up their work; and the most facile and terse are those of the best draughtsman. And even Quintilian in the perfection of his Rhetoric lays it down that not only in the division of the words his orator [pg 298]should draw, but that with his own hand he should know how to sketch and draw; and hence it is, Senhor M. Angelo, that you may at times call a great man of letters or a great preacher a good painter; and a great draughtsman you may call a man of letters, and whosoever most penetrates into real antiquity will find that painting and sculpture were both called painting, and that in the time of Demosthenes they called writing 'antigraphia,' which means drawing, and it was a word common to both these sciences, and that the writings of Agatharco can be called the painting of Agatharco. And I think that the Egyptians also—all of them who had to write or express anything—were accustomed to know how to paint, and even their hieroglyphic signs were painted animals and birds, as is shown by some obelisks in this city which came from Egypt. But if I speak of poetry, it seems to me that it will not be very difficult for me to show how true a sister she is to painting. But so that Senhor Francisco may know how much necessity he has for poetry, and how much he may gain from the best of it, I will show him here how much care the poets take (although this is matter for a young man rather than for me) of their profession and intelligence, and how much they praise and celebrate their art as being free from penalties and blots; and it does not seem that the poets worked for anything except to teach the beauties of painting, and what ought to be avoided or done in it, with all their suavity and music of verses, and with so many just and fluent words that I do not know how I can repay them. Now one of the things in which they put the most study and work (I speak of the famous poets) is in painting well or in imitating a good painting; and this is due to the accuracy which, with the greatest promptness and care, they desire to express and attain. And the one who can attain this is the one who is the most excellent and clear. I remember that the prince of them, Virgil, threw himself down to sleep at the foot of a [pg 299]beech-tree, and how he has painted in words the forms of two vases that Alcimedon had made in a cavern covered with a wild vine, with some goats chewing willows, and some blue hills smoking in the distance; then he remains resting on one hand the whole day, to study how many winds and clouds he will put into the Tempest of Æolus, and how he will paint the Port of Carthage in a bay, with an island standing apart, and with how many rocks and woods he will surround it. Afterwards he paints Troy burning; then some feasts in Sicily, and beyond near Cumas the gate of hell with a thousand monsters, and chimeras, and many souls passing Acheron; then the Elysian Fields, the host of the Blest, the pains and torments of the Impious, and afterwards the Arms of Vulcan, a fine piece of work; shortly afterwards a painted Amazon, and the ferocity of capless Turnus. He paints the routs in battle, the many dead, the fates of noble men, the many spoils and trophies. Read the whole of Virgil and you will not find in it anything but the handicraft of a Michael Angelo. Lucan employs a hundred pages in painting an enchantress and the breaking up of a fine battle. Ovid is nothing else but a 'retavolo' (copyist). Statius paints the house of sleep and the walls of great Thebes. The poet Lucretius likewise paints, and Tibullus and Catullus and Propertius. One paints a fountain, and a wood close by, with Pan, the shepherd, playing a flute amongst the ewes. Another paints a shrine with nymphs around dancing. Another draws the drunken Bacchus, surrounded by wild women, with old Silenus, half falling from an ass, who would have fallen were he not held up by a satyr who carries a leathern bottle. Even the satirical poet paints the picture of the labyrinth. Now what do the lyric poets do, or the wits of Martial, or the tragic or comic ones? What do they do but paint reasonably? And what I say I do not invent, for each one of them himself confesses that he paints: they called painting dumb poetry."
[pg 300]At this point I said: "Senhor Lactancio, in calling painting dumb poetry it seems to me that the poets did not know how to paint well, because, if they understood how much more painting declares and speaks than poetry, her sister, they would not say it was dumb, and I will maintain rather that poetry is the more dumb."
The Marchioness said: "How will you prove, Spaniard, what you say? how will you prove that painting is not dumb and that poetry is? Let us hear, for in no more worthy discourse could this day be spent, hearing what you maintain on that subject; afterwards it may be possible to bring this company together again, in another place."
"How can your Excellency wish," I answered, "that I should dare to do so at once, and how should I be able to interest this company with my little knowledge, especially as I am a pupil of the lady who is dumb and has no tongue? Particularly, too, as it is already late, if the light through these windows does not deceive me; how can you order me to praise my innamorata before her own husband and in such an honourable court of those who know her worth? If there were some powerful adversaries here I might attempt it, although in this I am wrong, for it would be much easier to vanquish enemies than to please these friends. But if your Excellency desires so much to see me put to silence I will speak, not as an enemy of poetry, for I am much indebted to her, and I owe her much in the virtue of my profession, and in the perfection which I so much desire, but to defend the other lady, who is still more mine, for whose sake only I rejoice to live, and for whom I confess I have a voice and speak, she being dumb, solely because I one day saw her move her eyes; and as she teaches one to speak by her eyes, what would she do if she were to move her wise lips? Good poets (as Senhor Lactancio said) do not do more with words than even mediocre painters do with their works, for the [pg 301]former recount what the latter express and declare. They with fastidious meanings do not always engage one's ears, whilst the latter satisfy one's eyes, as with some beautiful spectacle they hold all men prisoners and entranced; and the passage over which good poets most trouble themselves, and which they hold as the greatest finesse, is to show you in words (perchance too many and too long), as if painting a storm on the sea, or the burning of a city, which storm, if they were able, they would rather paint, for when you finish the work of reading, you have already forgotten the commencement, and you have only present the short verse on which your eyes were last fixed; and the one who shows you this best is the best poet.
"Now, how much more does painting say which shows you that storm altogether with the thunder, lightning, waves, vessels, and reefs, and you see: omniaque viris ostentant praesentem mortem, and in the same place: ex-templo Aeneas tendens ad sidera palmas and tres Eurus abreptas in saxa latentia torquet emissamque hyemem sensit Neptunus et imis, and likewise it shows very present and visibly all the burning of the city, in every part, represented and seen as if it were really true; on one side those who run through the streets and squares, on the other those who jump from the walls and towers; here the temples half demolished and the reflection of the flames in the rivers, and the surrounded shores illuminated; how Pantheus as he runs away limping with his idols, leading his grandchild by the hand; how the Trojan horse gives birth in the centre of a great square to armed men; how Neptune, very wrath, throws down the walls; how Pyrrhus beheads Priam; Æneas with his father on his shoulders, and Ascanius and Creusa who follow him in the darkness of night, full of fear; and all this so present and so connected and natural that very often you are moved to think that you are not safe before it, and you are glad to know they are only colours and that they cannot [pg 302]inspire or do harm. It does not show you this spread out in words, whilst you remember only the part which is before your eyes having already forgotten the past and not knowing the future, and which verses only the ears of a grammarian can understand with difficulty, but one's eyes visibly enjoy that spectacle as being true, and one's ears seem to hear the actual cries and clamour of the painted figures; it seems as if you smell the smoke, you fly from the flames, you fear the fall of the buildings; you are ready to give a hand to those who are falling, you defend those who are fighting against numbers; you run away with those who run away and stand firm with the courageous. Not only the learned are satisfied, but also the simple, the countryman, the old woman; not only these, but also the Sarmatian stranger, the Indian, and the Persian (who never understood the verses of Virgil, or Homer, which are dumb to them), delight themselves with and understand that work with great pleasure and quickness; the barbarian ceases to be barbarian, and understands, by virtue of the eloquent painting, that which no poetry or numbered feet could teach him. And the law of painting says: in ipsa legunt qui literas nesciunt, and further on says: pro lectione pictura est. When Cebes, a Theban, wished to write an opinion of his for a law of human life, he simulated and painted it on a 'panel,' as he thought that he would express it better thus, and that it would be more noble and more easily understood by all men; he then desired more to know how to paint, in order to speak, than how to write. But even, if after all this, poetry still affirms that a Venus painted at the feet of a Jupiter does not speak, nor Turnus painted, showing his valour before King Latinus, even this reason cannot render learned painting dumb so that she does not speak, and show in all things that she is in this also the first, or perhaps the companion, of my lady poetry. For the great painter will paint Venus weeping at the feet of Jupiter, with all the following advantages, [pg 303]which the poet will not have: the first one is that he paints heaven where it is supposed to be, and the person, dress, and action or movement of Jupiter and his eagle with the thunderbolt; and he will paint fully the luxurious beauty of Venus, and her robe of gauzy raiment with all her graceful movements, so elegant and light and with such skill that, although she may not speak with her mouth, yet it appears from her eyes, hands, and mouth that she is really speaking (nor do you hear the soft and sweet speech of Venus, when a croaking school-master reads the words and sayings of Venus). She appears to be uttering all those pious sayings and complaints which Virgil Maro writes concerning her. And also the great painter will make even King Latinus more copious in his work and the Councillors of the Laurentes more defined, clearer, some with perturbed face, and others more collected and quiet, different in appearance and physiognomy and age, different in movements, which the poet cannot do without too much prolixity and confusion. And even then he will not do it; and the painter will do it so that it may be seen with greater pleasure and move the spectator more, and likewise he will place before your eyes the brave image of Turnus, boastful and furious with the coward Drances, that it seems as if you fear him yourself and that he is saying: Larga quidem semper, Drance, tibi copia fandi. Therefore I with my small talent, as a pupil of a mistress without a tongue, still deem the power of painting to be greater than that of poetry in making greater effects and in having more force and vehemence whether to move mind and soul to joy and laughter, or to sorrow and tears, with more effective eloquence. But let the muse Calliope be the judge in this matter, for I will be content with her judgment."
And having said that I ceased. The Marchioness honoured me in bantering terms thus:
"You, Senhor Francisco, have done so well for your [pg 304]innamorata, painting, that, if Master Michael does not show just as great a sign of love for her, we may perhaps get her to divorce him and go with you to Portugal."
And, smiling, Michael said: "He knows, Madam, that I have already done so, and that I have already released her entirely to him; for as I do not possess such powers as such great love demands, he has said what he has said, as of one who belongs to him."
"I confess," said I, "Madam, that he has released her to me, but she does not wish to go with me, so that she still remains at home with him; neither would I, although she is so worthy, like to see her come to my country, for there are but few there who know how to esteem her, and my most serene king, unless it were in his unoccupied moments, would not favour her, especially if there happened to be any unrest through war, in which she is of no use; and so she would become angry and perhaps in a fit of temper she would one day throw herself into the ocean, which is hard by, and cause me to sing many times the verse:
But if she were of use in time of war, I would desire her to come at once."
"I quite understand," said the Marchioness, "but as now the day is far spent, let your question be for next Sunday." And as she said this she rose, and all of us with her, and we went away.