Chapter IV: Part 4

Salvator at first received her proposition as a joke; but perpetually teased by her reiterated importunities, and provoked by her pertinacity, he at last exclaimed, "Well, Madonna, I have resolved to comply with your desire; but with this agreement, that, not to distract my mind during my work, I desire you will not move from your seat until I have finished the picture." Madonna, willing to submit to any penalty in order to obtain an honor which was to immortalize her charms, joyfully agreed to the proposition; and Salvator, sending for an easel and painting materials, drew her as she sat before him, to the life. The portrait was dashed off with the usual rapidity and spirit of the master, and was a chef d'oeuvre. But when at last the vain and impatient hostess was permitted to look upon it, she perceived that to a strong and inveterate likeness the painter had added a long beard; and that she figured on the canvas as an ancient male pilgrim--a character admirably suited to her furrowed face, weather-beaten complexion, strong lineaments, and grey hairs. Her mortified vanity vented itself in the most violent abuse of the ungallant painter, in rich Tuscan Billingsgate. Salvator, probably less annoyed by her animosity than disgusted by her preference, called upon some of her guests to judge between them. The artists saw only the merits of the picture, the laughers looked only to the joke. The value affixed to the exquisite portrait soon reconciled the vanity of the original through her interest. After the death of Madonna Anna, her portrait was sold by her heirs at an enormous price, and is said to be still in existence.--_Lady Morgan._

SALVATOR ROSA'S RETURN TO ROME.

At the time of Salvator Rosa's return to Rome says Pascoli, he figured away as the _great painter_, opening his house to all his friends, who came from all parts to visit him, and among others, Antonio Abbati, who had resided for many years in Germany. This old acquaintance of the poor Salvatoriello of the Chiesa della Morte at Viterbo, was not a little amazed to find his patient and humble auditor of former times one of the most distinguished geniuses and hospitable Amphitryons of the day. Pascoli gives a curious picture of the prevailing pedantry of the times, by describing a discourse of Antonio Abbati's at Salvator's dinner-table, on the superior merits of the ancient painters over the moderns, in which he "bestowed all the tediousness" of his erudition on the company. Salvator answered him in his own style, and having overturned all his arguments in favor of antiquity with more learning than they had been supported, ended with an impromptu epigram, in his usual way, which brought the laugher's on his side.

SALVATOR ROSA'S LOVE OF MAGNIFICENCE.

Salvator Rosa was fond of splendor and ostentatious display. He courted admiration from whatever source it could be obtained, and even sought it by means to which the frivolous and the vain are supposed alone to resort. He is described, therefore, as returning to Rome, from which he had made so perilous and furtive an escape, in a showy and pompous equipage, with "servants in rich liveries, armed with silver hafted swords, and otherwise well accoutred." The beautiful Lucrezia, as "sua Governante," accompanied him, and the little Rosalvo gave no scandal in a society where the instructions of religion substitute license for legitimate indulgence. Immediately on his arrival in Rome, Salvator fixed upon one of the loveliest of her hills for his residence, and purchased a handsome house upon the Monte Pincio, on the Piazza della Trinità del Monte--"which," says Pascoli, "he furnished with noble and rich furniture, establishing himself on the great scale, and in a lordly manner." A site more favorable than the Pincio, for a man of Salvator's taste and genius, could scarcely be imagined, commanding at once within the scope of its vast prospect, picturesque views, and splendid monuments of the most important events in the history of man--the Capitol and the Campus Martius, the groves of the Quirinal and the cupola of St. Peter's, the ruined palaces of the Cæsars, and sumptuous villas of the sons of the reigning church. Such was then, as now, the range of unrivalled objects which the Pincio commanded; but the noble terrace smoothed over its acclivities, which recalled the memory of Aurelian and the feast of Belisarius, presented at that period a far different aspect from that which it now offers. Everything in this enchanting sight was then fresh and splendid; the halls of the Villa Medici, which at present only echo to the steps of a few French students or English travelers, were then the bustling and splendid residence of the old intriguing Cardinal Carlo de Medici, called the Cardinal of Tuscany, whose followers and faction were perpetually going to and fro, mingling their showy uniforms and liveries with the sober vestments of the neighboring monks of the convent della Trinità! The delicious groves and gardens of the Villa de Medici then covered more than two English miles, and amidst cypress shades and shrubberies, watered by clear springs, and reflected in translucent fountains, stood exposed to public gaze all that now form the most precious treasures of the Florentine Gallery--the Niobe, the Wrestlers, the Apollo, the Vase, and above all, the Venus of Venuses, which has derived its distinguishing appellation from these gardens, of which it was long the boast and ornament.

SALVATOR ROSA'S LAST WORKS.

The last performances of Salvator's pencil were a collection of portraits of obnoxious persons in Rome--in other words, a series of caricatures, by which he would have an opportunity of giving vent to his satirical genius; but whilst he was engaged on his own portrait, intending it as the concluding one of the series he was attacked with a dropsy, which in the course of a few months brought him to the grave.

SALVATOR ROSA'S DESIRE TO BE CONSIDERED AN HISTORICAL PAINTER.

Salvator Rosa's greatest talent lay in landscape painting, a branch which he affected to despise, as he was ambitious of being called an historical painter. Hence he called his wild scenes, with small figures merely accessory, historical paintings, and was offended if others called them landscapes. Pascoli relates that Prince Francisco Ximenes, soon after his arrival at Rome, in the midst of the honors paid him, found time to visit the studio of Salvator Rosa, who showed him into his gallery. The Prince frankly said, "I have come, Signor Rosa, for the purpose of seeing and purchasing some of those beautiful landscapes, whose subjects and manner have delighted me in many foreign collections."--"Be it known then, to your excellency," interrupted Salvator impetuously, "that I know nothing of _landscape_ painting. Something indeed I do know of painting figures and historical subjects, which I strive to exhibit to such eminent judges as yourself, in order that, _once for all_, I may banish from the public mind that _fantastic humor_ of supposing I am a landscape and not an historical painter." At another time, a very rich (_ricchissimo_) Cardinal called on Salvator to purchase some of his pictures As he walked up and down the gallery, he paused before the landscapes, but only glanced at the historical subjects, while Salvator muttered from time to time, "_sempre, sempre, paesi piccoli_," (always, always, some little landscape.) When, at length, the Cardinal carelessly glanced his eye over one of Salvator's great historical pictures, and asked the price, as a sort of introduction, the painter bellowed out, _un milione_; his Eminence, justly offended, made an unceremonious retreat without making his intended purchases, and returned no more.

DON MARIO GHIGI, HIS PHYSICIAN, AND SALVATOR ROSA.

(_From Lady Morgan's Life of Salvator Rosa._)

The princes of the family of Ghigi had been among the first of the aristocratic virtuosi of Rome to acknowledge the merits of Salvator Rosa, as their ancestors had been to appreciate the genius of Raffaelle. Between the Prince Don Mario Ghigi, (whose brother Fabio was raised to the pontifical throne by the name of Alexander VII.) and Salvator, there seems to have existed a personal intimacy; and the prince's fondness for the painter's conversation was such, that during a long illness he induced Salvator to bring his easel to his bedside, and to work in his chamber at a small picture he was then painting for the prince. It happened, that while Rosa was sketching and chatting by the prince's couch, one of the most fashionable physicians in Rome entered the apartment. He appears to have been one of those professional coxcombs, whose pretensions, founded on unmerited vogue, throws ridicule on the gravest calling.

After some trite remarks upon the art, the doctor, either to flatter Salvator, or in imitation of the physician of the Cardinal Colonna, who asked for one of Raffaelle's finest pictures as a fee for saving the Cardinal's life, requested Don Mario to give him a picture by Salvator as a remuneration for his attendance. The prince willingly agreed to the proposal; and the doctor, debating on the subject he should choose, turned to Salvator and begged that he would not lay pencil to canvas, until _he_, the Signor Dottore, should find leisure to dictate to him _il pensiero e concetto della sua pittura_, the idea and conceit of his picture! Salvator bowed a modest acquiescence, and went on with his sketch. The doctor having gone the round of professional questions with his wonted pomposity, rose to write his prescription; when, as he sat before the table with eyes upturned, and pen suspended over the paper, Salvator approached him on tiptoe, and drawing the pen gently through his fingers, with one of his old _Coviello_ gesticulations in his character of the mountebank, he said, "_fermati dottor mio!_ stop doctor, you must not lay pen to paper till I have leisure to dictate the idea and conceit of the prescription I may think proper for the malady of his Excellency."

"_Diavalo!_" cried the amazed physician, "you dictate a prescription! why, _I_ am the prince's physician, and not _you!_"

"And _I, Caro_," said Salvator, "am a painter, and not _you_. I leave it to the prince whether I could not prove myself a better physician than you a painter; and write a better prescription than you paint a picture."

The prince, much amused, decided in favor of the painter; Salvator coolly resumed his pencil, and the medical _cognoscente_ permitted the idea of the picture to die away, _sul proprio letto_.

DEATH OF SALVATOR ROSA.

Salvator Rosa, in his last illness, demanded of the priests and others that surrounded him, what they required of him. They replied, "in the first instance to receive the sacrament as it is administered in Rome to the dying." "To receive the sacrament," says his confessor, Baldovini, "he showed no repugnance, but he vehemently and positively refused to allow the host, with all the solemn pomp of its procession, to be brought to his house, which he deemed unworthy of the divine presence." He objected to the ostentation of the ceremony, to its _éclat_, to the noise and bustle, smoke and heat it would create in the close sick chamber. He appears to have objected to more than it was discreet to object to in Rome: and all that his family and his confessor could extort from him on the subject was, that he would permit himself to be carried from his bed to the parish church, and there, with the humility of a contrite heart, would consent to receive the sacrament at the foot of the altar.

As immediate death might have been the consequence of this act of indiscretion, his family, who were scarcely less interested for a life so precious, than for the soul which was the object of their pious apprehensions, gave up the point altogether; and on account of the vehemence with which Salvator spoke on the subject, and the agitation it had occasioned, they carefully avoided renewing a proposition which had rallied all his force of character and volition to their long abandoned post.

The rejection of a ceremony which was deemed in Rome indispensably necessary to salvation, by one who was already stamped with the church's reprobation, soon spread; report exaggerated the circumstance into a positive expression of infidelity; and the gossip of the Roman ante-rooms was supplied for the time with a subject of discussion, in perfect harmony with their love for slander, bigotry, and idleness.

"As I went forth from Salvator's door," relates the worthy Baldovini, "I met the _Canonico Scornio_, a man who has taken out a license to speak of all men as he pleases. 'And how goes it with Salvator?' demands this Canonico of me. 'Bad enough, I fear.'--Well, a few nights back, happening to be in the anteroom of a certain great prelate, I found myself in the centre of a circle of disputants, who were busily discussing whether the aforesaid Salvator would die a Schismatic, a Huguenot, a Calvinist, or a Lutheran?--'He will die, Signor Canonico,' I replied, 'when it pleases God, a better Catholic than any of those who now speak so slightingly of him!'--and so pursued my way."

This _Canonico_, whose sneer at the undecided faith of Salvator roused all the bile of the tolerant and charitable Baldovini, was the near neighbor of Salvator, a frequenter of his hospitable house, and one of whom the credulous Salvator speaks in one of his letters as being "his neighbor, and an excellent gentleman."

On the following day, as the Padre sat by the pillow of the suffering Rosa, he had the simplicity, in the garrulity of his heart, to repeat all these idle reports and malicious insinuations to the invalid: "But," says Baldovini, "as I spoke, Rosa only shrugged his shoulders."

Early on the morning of the fifteenth of March, that month so delightful in Rome, the anxious and affectionate confessor, who seems to have been always at his post, ascended the Monte della Trinità, for the purpose of taking up his usual station by the bed's head of the fast declining Salvator. The young Agosto flew to meet him at the door, and with a countenance radiant with joy, informed him of the good news, that "his dear father had given evident symptoms of recovery, in consequence of the bursting of an inward ulcer."

Baldovini followed the sanguine boy to Iris father's chamber; but, to all appearance Salvator was suffering great agony. "How goes it with thee, Rosa?" asked Baldovini kindly, as he approached him.

"Bad, bad!" was the emphatic reply. While writhing with pain, the sufferer added after a moment:--"To judge by what I now endure, the hand of death grasps me sharply."

In the restlessness of pain he then threw himself on the edge of the bed, and placed his head on the bosom of Lucrezia, who sat supporting and weeping over him. His afflicted son and friend took their station at the other side of the couch, and stood in mournful silence watching the issue of these sudden and frightful spasms. At that moment a celebrated Roman physician, the Doctor Catanni, entered the apartment. He felt the pulse of Salvator, and perceived that he was fast sinking. He communicated his approaching dissolution to those most interested in the melancholy intelligence, and it struck all present with unutterable grief. Baldovini, however, true to his sacred calling, even in the depth of his human affliction, instantly despatched the young Agosto to the neighboring Convent della Trinità, for the holy Viaticum. While life was still fluttering at the heart of Salvator, the officiating priest of the day arrived, bearing with him the holy apparatus of the last mysterious ceremony of the church. The shoulders of Salvator were laid bare, and anointed with the consecrated oil; some prayed fervently, others wept, and all even still hoped; but the taper which the Doctor Catanni held to the lips of Salvator while the Viaticum was administered, burned brightly and steadily! Life's last sigh had transpired, as religion performed her last rite.

Between that luminous and soul-breathing form of genius, and the clod of the valley, there was now no difference; and the "end and object" of a man's brief existence was now accomplished in him who, while yet all young and ardent, had viewed the bitter perspective of humanity with a philosophic eye and pronounced even on the bosom of pleasure,

"Nasci poena--Vita labor--Necesse mori."

On the evening of the fifteenth of March, 1673, all that remained of the author of Regulus, of Catiline, and the Satires--the gay Formica, the witty Coviello--of the elegant composer, and greatest painter of his time and country--of Salvator Rosa! was conveyed to the tomb, in the church of Santa Maria degli Angioli alle Terme--that magnificent temple, unrivalled even at Rome in interest and grandeur, which now stands as it stood when it formed the Pinacotheca of the Thermæ of Dioclesian. There, accompanied by much funeral pomp, the body of Salvator lay in state; the head and face, according to the Italian custom, being exposed to view. All Rome poured into the vast circumference of the church, to take a last view of the painter of the Roman people--the "Nostro Signor Salvatore" of the Pantheon; and the popular feelings of regret and admiration were expressed with the usual bursts of audible emotions in which Italian sensibility on such occasions loves to indulge. Some few there were, who gathered closely and in silence round the bier of the great master of the Neapolitan school; and who, weeping the loss of the man, forgot for a moment even that genius which had already secured its own meed of immortality. These were Carlo Rossi, Francesco Baldovini, and Paolo Oliva, each of whom returned from the grave of the friend he loved, to record the high endowments and powerful talents of the painter he admired, and the poet he revered. Baldovini retired to his cell to write the Life of Salvator Rosa, and then to resign his own; Oliva to his monastery, to compose the epitaph which is still read on the tomb of his friend; and Carlo Rossi to select from his gallery such works of his beloved painter, as might best adorn the walls of that chapel, now exclusively consecrated to his memory.

On the following night, the remains of Salvator Rosa were deposited, with all the awful forms of the Roman church, in a grave opened expressly in the beautiful vestibule of Santa Maria degli Angioli alle Terme. Never did the ashes of departed genius find a more appropriate resting place;--the Pinacotheca of the Thermæ of Dioclesian had once been the repository of all that the genius of antiquity had perfected in the arts; and in the vast interval of time which had since elapsed, it had suffered no change, save that impressed upon it by the mighty mind of Michael Angelo.--_Lady Morgan._

DOMENICHINO.

This great artist is now universally esteemed the most distinguished disciple of the school of the Caracci, and the learned Count Algarotti prefers him even to the Caracci themselves. Poussin ranked him next after Raffaelle, and Passeri has expressed nearly the same opinion. He was born at Bologna in 1581, and received his first instruction from Denis Calvart, but having been treated with severity by that master, who had discovered him making a drawing after Annibale Caracci, contrary to his injunction, Domenichino prevailed upon his father to remove him from the school of Calvart, and place him in the Academy of the Caracci, where Guido and Albano were then students.

THE DULLNESS OF DOMENICHINO IN YOUTH.

The great talents of Domenichino did not develop themselves so early as in many other great painters. He was assiduous, thoughtful and circumspect; which his companions attributed to dullness, and they called him the Ox; but the intelligent Annibale Caracci, who observed his faculties with more attention, testified of his abilities by saying to his pupils, "this Ox will in time surpass you all, and be an honor to the art of painting." It was the practice in this celebrated school to offer prizes to the pupils for the best drawings, to excite them to emulation, and every pupil was obliged to hand in his drawing at certain periods. It was not long after Domenichino entered this school before one of these occasions took place, and while his fellow-students brought in their works with confidence, he timidly approached and presented his, which he would gladly have withheld. Lodovico Caracci, after having examined the whole, adjudged the prize to Domenichino. This triumph, instead of rendering him confident and presumptuous, only stimulated him to greater assiduity, and he pursued his studies with such patient and constant application, that he made such progress as to win the admiration of some of his cotemporaries, and to beget the hatred of others. He contracted a friendship with Albano, and on leaving the school of the Caracci, they visited together, Parma, Modena, and Reggio, to contemplate the works of Correggio and Parmiggiano. On their return to Bologna, Albano went to Rome, whither Domenichino soon followed him, and commenced his bright career.

The student may learn a useful lesson from the untiring industry, patience, and humility of this great artist. Passeri attributes his grand achievements more to his amazing study than to his genius; and some have not hesitated to deny that he possessed any genius at all--an opinion which his works abundantly refute. Lanzi says, "From his acting as a continual censor of his own productions, he became among his fellow pupils the most exact and expressive designer, his colors most true to nature, and of the best _impasto_, the most universal master in the theory of his art, the sole painter amongst them all in whom Mengs found nothing to desire except a little more elegance. That he might devote his whole being to the art, he shunned all society, or if he occasionally sought it in the public theatres and markets, it was in order better to observe the play of nature's passions in the features of the people--those of joy, anger, grief, terror, and every affection of the mind, and commit it living to his tablets. Thus it was, exclaims Bellori, that he succeeded in delineating the soul, in coloring life, and raising those emotions in our breasts at which his works all aim; as if he waved the same wand which belonged to the poetical enchanters, Tasso and Ariosto."

DOMENICHINO'S SCOURGING OF ST. ANDREW.

Domenichino was employed by the Cardinal Borghese, to paint in competition with Guido, the celebrated frescos in the church of S. Gregorio at Rome. Both artists painted the same subject, but the former represented the _Scourging of St. Andrew_, and the latter _St. Andrew led away to the Gibbet_. Lanzi says it is commonly reported that an aged woman, accompanied by a little boy, was seen long wistfully engaged in viewing Domenichino's picture, showing it part by part to the boy, and next, turning to that of Guido, painted directly opposite, she gave it a cursory glance and passed on. Some assert that Annibale Caracci took occasion, from this circumstance, to give his preference to the former picture. It is also related that while Domenichino was painting one of the executioners, he actually threw himself into a passion, using high threatening words and actions, and that Annibale, surprising him at that moment, embraced him, exclaiming, "To-day, my Domenichino, thou art teaching me"--so novel, and at the same time so natural did it appear to him, that the artist, like the orator, should feel within himself all that he would represent to others.

THE COMMUNION OF ST. JEROME.

The chef-d'oeuvre of Domenichino is the dying St. Jerome receiving the last rites of his church, commonly called the Communion of St. Jerome, painted for the principal altar of St. Girolamo della Carita. This work has immortalized his name, and is universally allowed to be the finest picture Rome can boast after the Transfiguration of Raffaelle. It was taken to Paris by Napoleon, restored in 1815 by the Allies, and has since been copied in mosaic, to preserve so grand a work, the original having suffered greatly from the effects of time. Lanzi says, "One great attraction in the church paintings of Domenichino, consists in the glory of the angels, exquisitely beautiful in feature, full of lively action, and so introduced as to perform the most gracious offices in the piece, as the crowning of martyrs, the bearing of palms, the scattering of roses, weaving the mazy dance, and making sweet melodies."

DOMENICHINO'S ENEMIES AT ROME.

The reputation which Domenichino had justly acquired at Rome had excited the jealousy of some of his cotemporaries, and the applause bestowed upon his Communion of St. Jerome, only served to increase it. The Cav. Lanfranco in particular, one of his most inveterate enemies, asserted that the Communion of St. Jerome was little more than a copy of the same subject by Agostino Caracci, at the Certosa at Bologna, and he employed Perrier, one of his pupils, to make an etching from the picture by Agostino. But this stratagem, instead of confirming the plagiarism, discovered the calumny, as it proved that there was no more resemblance between the two works than must necessarily result in two artists treating the same subject, and that every essential part, and all that was admired was entirely his own. If it had been possible for modest merit to have repelled the shafts of slander, the work which he executed immediately afterwards in the church of S. Lodovico, representing the life of St. Cecilia, would have silenced the attacks of envy and malevolence; but they only tended to increase the alarm of his competitors, and excite them to redoubled injustice and malignity. Disgusted with these continued cabals, Domenichino quitted Rome, and returned to Bologna, where he resided several years in the quiet practice of his profession, and executed some of his most admired works, particularly the Martyrdom of St. Agnes for the church of that Saint, and the Madonna del Rosario, both of which were engraved by Gerard Audran, and taken to Paris and placed in the Louvre by order of Napoleon. The fame of Domenichino was now so well established that intrigue and malice could not suppress it, and Pope Gregory XV. invited him back to Rome, and appointed him principal painter, and architect to the pontifical palace.

DECISION OF POSTERITY ON THE MERITS OF DOMENICHINO.

"The public," says Lanzi, "is an equitable judge; but a good cause is not always sufficient without the advantage of many voices to sustain it. Domenichino, timid, retiring, and master of few pupils, was destitute of a party equal to his cause. He was constrained to yield to the crowd that trampled upon him, thus verifying the prediction of Monsignore Agucchi, that his merits would never be rightly appreciated during his life-time. The spirit of party having passed away, impartial posterity has rendered him justice; nor is there a royal gallery but confesses an ambition to possess his works. His figure pieces are in the highest esteem, and command enormous prices."

PROOF OF THE MERITS OF DOMENICHINO.

No better proof of the exalted merits of Domenichino can be desired, than the fact that upwards of fifty of his works have been engraved by the most renowned engravers, as Gerard Audran, Raffaelle Morghen, Sir Robert Strange, C. F. von Muller, and other illustrious artists; many of these also have been frequently repeated.

DOMENICHINO'S CARICATURES.

While Domenichino was in Naples, he was visited by his biographer Passeri, then a young man, who was engaged to assist in repairing the pictures in the Cardinal's chapel. "When he arrived at Frescati," says Passeri, "Domenichino received me with much courtesy, and hearing that I took a singular delight in the belles-lettres, it increased his kindness to me. I remember that I gazed on this man as though he were an angel. I remained there to the end of September, occupied in restoring the chapel of St. Sebastian, which had been ruined by the damp. Sometimes Domenichino would join us, singing delightfully to recreate himself. When night set in, we returned to our apartment; while he most frequently remained in his room, occupied in drawing, and permitting none to see him. Sometimes, however, to pass the time, he drew caricatures of us all, and of the inhabitants of the villa. When he succeeded to his perfect satisfaction, he was wont to indulge in immoderate fits of laughter; and we, who were in the adjoining room, would run in to know his reason, when he showed us his spirited sketches. He drew a caricature of me with a guitar, one of Carmini (the painter), and one of the Guarda Roba, who was lame of the gout; and of the Sub-guarda Roba, a most ridiculous figure--to prevent our being offended, he caricatured himself. These portraits are now preserved by Signor Giovanni Pietro Bellori."

INTRIGUES OF THE NEAPOLITAN TRIUMVIRATE OF PAINTERS.

The conspiracy of Bellisario Corenzio, Giuseppe Ribera, and Gio. Battista Caracciolo, called the Neapolitan Triumvirate of Painters, to monopolize to themselves all valuable commissions, and particularly the honor of decorating the chapel of St. Januarius, is one of the most curious passages in the history of art. The following is Lanzi's account of this disgraceful cabal:

"The three masters whom I have just noticed in successive order, (Corenzio, Ribera, and Caracciolo) were the authors of the unceasing persecutions which many of the artists who had come to, or were invited to Naples, were for several years subjected to. Bellisario had established a supreme dominion, or rather a tyranny, over the Neapolitan painters, by calumny and insolence, as well as by his station. He monopolized all lucrative commissions to himself, and recommended, for the fulfilment of others, one or other of the numerous and inferior artists that were dependent on him. The Cav. Massimo Stanziozi, Santafede, and other artists of talent, if they did not defer to him, were careful not to offend him, as they knew him to be a man of a vindictive temper, treacherous, and capable of every violence, and who was known, through jealousy, to have administered poison to Luigi Roderigo, the most promising and the most amiable of his scholars.

"Bellisario, in order to maintain himself in his assumed authority, endeavored to exclude all strangers who painted in fresco rather than in oil. Annibale Caracci arrived there in 1609, and was engaged to ornament the churches of Spirito Santo and Gesu Nuovo, for which, as a specimen of his style, he painted a small picture. The Greek and his adherents being required to give their opinion on this exquisite production, declared it to be tasteless, and decided that the painter of it did not possess talent for large compositions. This divine artist in consequence took his departure under a burning sun, for Rome, where he soon afterwards died. But the work in which strangers were the most opposed was the chapel of S. Gennaro, which a committee had assigned to the Cav. d'Arpino, as soon as he should finish painting the choir of the Certosa. Bellisorio, leaguing with Spagnoletto (like himself a fierce and ungovernable man) and with Caracciolo, who aspired to this commission, persecuted Cesari in such a manner, that before he had finished the choir he fled to Monte Cassino, and from thence returned to Rome. The work was then given to Guido, but after a short time two unknown persons assaulted the servant of that artist, and at the same time desired him to inform his master that he must prepare himself for death, or instantly quit Naples, with which latter mandate Guido immediately complied. Gessi, the scholar of Guido, was not however intimidated by this event, but applied for, and obtained the honorable commission, and came to Naples with two assistants, Gio. Batista Ruggieri and Lorenzo Menini. But these artists were scarcely arrived, when they were treacherously invited on board a galley, which immediately weighed anchor and carried them off, to the great dismay of their master, who although he made the most diligent inquiries both at Rome and Naples, could never procure any tidings of them.

"Gessi in consequence also taking his departure, the committee lost all hope of succeeding in their task, and were in the act of yielding to the reigning cabal, assigning the fresco work to Corenzio and Caracciolo, and promising the pictures to Spagnoletto, when suddenly repenting of their resolution, they effaced all that was painted of the two frescos, and intrusted the decoration of the chapel entirely to Domenichino. It ought to be mentioned to the honor of these munificent persons, that they engaged to pay for every entire figure, 100 ducats, for each half-figure 50 ducats, and for each head 25 ducats. They took precautions also against any interruption to the artist, threatening the Viceroy's high displeasure if he were in any way molested. But this was only matter of derision to the junta. They began immediately to cry him down as a cold and insipid painter, and to discredit him with those, the most numerous class in every place, who see only with the eyes of others. They harassed him by calumnies, by anonymous letters, by displacing his pictures, by mixing injurious ingredients with his colors, and by the most insidious malice they procured some of his pictures to be sent by the viceroy to the court of Madrid; and these, when little more than sketched, were taken from his studio and carried to the court, where Spagnoletto ordered them to be retouched, and, without giving him time to finish them, hurried them to their destination. This malicious fraud of his rival, the complaints of the committee, who always met with some fresh obstacle to the completion of the work, and the suspicion of some evil design, at last determined Domenichino to depart secretly to Rome. As soon however as the news of his flight transpired, he was recalled, and fresh measures taken for his protection; when he resumed his labors, and decorated the walls and base of the cupola, and made considerable progress in the painting of his pictures.

"But before he could finish his task he was interrupted by death, hastened either by poison, or by the many severe vexations he had experienced both from his relatives and his adversaries, and the weight of which was augmented by the arrival of his former enemy Lanfranco. This artist superceded Zampieri in the painting of the basin of the chapel; Spagnoletto, in one of his oil pictures; Stanzioni in another; and each of these artists, excited by emulation, rivaled, if he did not excel, Domenichino. Caracciolo was dead. Bellisario, from his great age, took no share in it, and was soon afterwards killed by a fall from a stage, which he had erected for the purpose of retouching some of his frescos. Nor did Spagnoletto experience a better fate; for, having seduced a young girl, and become insupportable even to himself from the general odium which he experienced, he embarked on board a ship; nor is it known whither he fled, or how he ended his life, if we may credit the Neapolitan writers. Palomino, however, states him to have died in Naples in 1656, aged sixty-seven, though he does not contradict the first part of our statement. Thus these ambitious men, who by violence or fraud had influenced and abused the generosity and taste of so many noble patrons, and to whose treachery and sanguinary vengeance so many professors of the art had fallen victims, ultimately reaped the merited fruit of their conduct in a violent death; and an impartial posterity, in assigning the palm of merit to Domenichino, inculcates the maxim, that it is a delusive hope to attempt to establish fame and fortune on the destruction of another's reputation."

GIUSEPPE RIBERA, CALLED IL SPAGNOLETTO--HIS EARLY POVERTY AND INDUSTRY.

José Ribera, a native of Valencia in Spain, studied for some time under Francisco Ribalta, and afterwards found his way to Italy. At the age of sixteen, he was living in Rome, in a very destitute condition; subsisting on crusts, clothed in rags, yet endeavoring with unswerving diligence to improve himself in art by copying the frescos on the façades of palaces, or at the shrines on the corners of the streets. His poverty and industry attracted the notice of a compassionate Cardinal, who happened to see him at work from his coach-window; and he provided the poor boy with clothes, and food, and lodging in his own palace. Ribera soon found, however, that to be clad in good raiment, and to fare plentifully every day, weakened his powers of application; he needed the spur of want to arouse him to exertion; and therefore, after a short trial of a life in clover, beneath the shelter of the purple, he returned to his poverty and his studies in the streets. The Cardinal was at first highly incensed at his departure, and when he next saw him, rated him soundly as an ungrateful little Spaniard; but being informed of his motives, and observing his diligence, his anger was turned to admiration. He renewed his offers of protection, which, however, Ribera thankfully declined.

RIBERA'S MARRIAGE.

Ribera's adventure with the Cardinal, and his abilities, soon distinguished him among the crowd of young artists in Rome. He became known by the name which still belongs to him, Il Spagnoletto, (the little Spaniard,) and as an imitator of Michael Angelo Caravaggio, the bold handling of whose works, and their powerful effects of light and shade, pleased his vigorous mind. Finding Rome overstocked with artists, he went to Naples, where he made the acquaintance of a rich picture-dealer. The latter was so much pleased with Ribera's genius, that be offered him his beautiful and well-dowered daughter in marriage. The Valencian, not less proud than poor, at first resented this proposal as an unseasonable pleasantry upon his forlorn condition; but at last finding that it was made in good faith, he took "the good the gods provided," and at once stepped from solitary indigence into the possession of a handsome wife, a comfortable home, a present field of profitable labor, and a prospect of future opulence.

RIBERA'S RISE TO EMINENCE.

Ease and prosperity now rather stimulated than relaxed his exertions. Choosing for his subject the Flaying of St. Bartholomew, he painted that horrible martyrdom with figures of life-size, so fearfully truthful to nature that when exposed to the public in the street, it immediately attracted a crowd of shuddering gazers. The place of exhibition being within view of the royal palace, the eccentric Viceroy, Don Pedro de Giron, Duke of Ossuna, who chanced to be taking the air on his balcony, inquired the cause of the unusual concourse, and ordered the picture and the artist to be brought into his presence. Being well pleased with both, he purchased the one for his own gallery, and appointed the other his court painter, with a monthly salary of sixty doubloons, and the superintendence of all decorations in the palace.

RIBERA'S DISCOVERY OF THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.

Ribera seems to have been a man of considerable social talent, lively in conversation, and dealing in playful wit and amusing sarcasm. Dominici relates that two Spanish officers, visiting at his house one day, entered upon a serious discussion on the subject of alchemy. The host, finding their talk some what tedious, gravely informed them that he him self happened to be in possession of the philosopher's stone, and that they might, if they pleased, see his way of using it, the next morning at his studio. The military adepts were punctual to their appointment, and found their friend at work, not in a mysterious laboratory, but at his easel, on a half-length picture of St. Jerome. Entreating them to restrain their eagerness, he painted steadily on, finished his picture, sent it out by his servant, and received a small rouleau in return. This he broke open in the presence of his visitors, and throwing ten gold doubloons on the table, said, "Learn of me how gold is to be made; I do it by painting, you by serving his majesty--diligence in business is the only true alchemy." The officers departed somewhat crest-fallen, neither relishing the jest, nor likely to reap any benefit from it.

RIBERA'S SUBJECTS.

His subjects are generally austere, representing anchorets, prophets, apostles, &c., and frequently of the most revolting character, such as sanguinary executions, martyrdoms, horrid punishments, and lingering torments, which he represented with a startling fidelity that intimidates and shocks the beholder. His paintings are very numerous, and his drawings and etchings are highly esteemed by connoisseurs.

RIBERA'S DISPOSITION.

The talents of this great painter, seem to have been obscured by a cruel and revengeful disposition, partaking of the character of his works. He was one of the triumvirate of painters, who assassinated, persecuted, or drove every talented foreign painter from Naples, that they might monopolize the business. He was also a reckless libertine, and, according to Dominici, having seduced a beautiful girl, he was seized with such remorse for his many crimes, as to become insupportable to himself; and to escape the general odium which was heaped upon him, he fled from Naples on board a ship, and was never heard of more. This story however is doubtless colored, for, according to Palomino and several other writers, Ribera died at Naples in 1656. See page 132 of this volume.

SINGULAR PICTORIAL ILLUSIONS.

Over a certain fountain in Rome, there was a cornice so skilfully painted, that the birds were deceived, and trying to alight on it, frequently fell into the water beneath. Annibale Caracci painted some ornaments on a ceiling of the Farnese palace, which the Duke of Sessa, Spanish ambassador to the Pope, took for sculptures, and would not believe they were painted on a flat ground, until he had touched them with a lance. Agostino Caracci painted a horse, which deceived the living animal--a triumph so celebrated in Apelles. Juan Sanchez Cotan, painted at Granada a "Crucifixion," on the cross of which Palomino says birds often attempted to perch, and which at first sight the keen-eyed Cean Bermudez mistook for a piece of sculpture. The reputation of this painter stood so high, that Vincenzio Carducci traveled from Madrid to Granada on purpose to see him; and he is said to have recognized him among the white-robed fraternity of which he was a member, by observing in the expression of his countenance, a certain affinity to the spirit of his works.

It is related of Murillo's picture of St. Anthony of Padua, that the birds, wandering up and down the aisles of the cathedral at Seville, have often attempted to perch upon a vase of white lilies painted on a table in the picture, and to peck at the flowers. The preëminent modern Zeuxis, however, was Pierre Mignard, whose portrait of the Marquise de Gouvernet was accosted by that lady's pet parrot, with an affectionate "_Baise moi, ma maitresse!_"

RAFFAELLE'S SKILL IN PORTRAITS.

Raffaelle was transcendant not only in history, but in portrait. His portraits have deceived even persons most intimately acquainted with the originals. Lanzi says he painted a picture of Leo X. so full of life, that the Cardinal Datary approached it with a bull and pen and ink, for the Pope's signature. A similar story is related of Titian.

JACOPO DA PONTE.

Count Algarotti relates, that Annibale Caracci was so deceived by a book painted upon a table by Jacopo da Ponte, that he stretched out his hand to take it up. Bassano was highly honored by Paul Veronese, who placed his son Carletto under him as a pupil, to receive his general instructions, "and more particularly in regard to that just disposition of lights reflected from one object to another, and in those happy counterpositions, owing to which the depicted objects seemed clothed with a profusion of light."

GIOVANNI ROSA.

Giovanni Rosa, a Fleming who flourished at Rome in the first part of the seventeenth century, was famous for his pictures of animals. "He painted hares so naturally as to deceive the dogs, which would rush at them furiously, thus renewing the wonderful story of Zeuxis and his Grapes, so much boasted of by Pliny."

CAV. GIOVANNI CONTARINI.

This artist was a close imitator of Titian. He was extremely accurate in his portraits, which he painted with force, sweetness, and strong likeness. He painted a portrait of Marco Dolce, and when the picture was sent home, his dogs began to fawn upon it, mistaking it for their master.

GUERCINO'S POWER OF RELIEF.

The style of Guercino displays a strong contrast of light and shadow, both exceedingly bold, yet mingled with great sweetness and harmony, and a powerful effect in relief, a branch of art so much admired by professors. "Hence," says Lanzi, "some foreigners bestowed upon him the title of the Magician of Italian painting, for in him were renewed those celebrated illusions of antiquity. He painted a basket of grapes so naturally that a ragged urchin stretched out his hand to steal some of the fruit. Often, in comparing the figures of Guido with those of Guercino, one would say that the former had been fed with roses, and the latter with flesh, as observed by one of the ancients."

BERNAZZANO.

Lanzi says, "In painting landscape, fruit, and flowers, Bernazzano succeeded so admirably as to produce the same wonderful effects that are told of Zeuxis and Apelles in Greece. These indeed Italian artists have frequently renewed, though with a less degree of applause. Having painted a strawberry-bed in a court yard, the pea-fowls were so deceived by the resemblance, that they pecked at the wall till they had destroyed the painting. He painted the landscape part of a picture of the Baptism of Christ, and on the ground drew some birds in the act of feeding. On its being placed in the open air, the birds were seen to fly towards the picture, to join their companions. This beautiful picture is one of the chief ornaments in the gallery of the distinguished family of the Trotti at Milan."

INVENTION OF OIL PAINTING.

There has been a world of discussion on this subject, but there can be no doubt that John van Eyck, called John of Bruges, and by the Italians, Giovanni da Bruggia, and Gio. Abeyk or Eyck, is entitled to the honor of the invention of Oil Painting as applied to pictures, though Mr. Raspe, the celebrated antiquary, in his treatise on the invention of Oil Painting, has satisfactorily proved that Oil Painting was practised in Italy as early as the 11th century, but only as a means of protecting metalic substances from rust.

According to van Mander, the method of painting in Flanders previous to the time of the van Eycks, was with gums, or a preparation called egg-water, to which a kind of varnish was afterwards applied in finishing, which required a certain degree of heat to dry. John van Eyck having worked a long time on a picture and finished it with great care, placed it in the sun-shine to dry, when the board on which it was painted split and spoiled the work. His disappointment at seeing so much labor lost, urged him to attempt the discovery, by his knowledge of chemistry, of some process which would not in future expose him to such an unfortunate accident. In his researches, he discovered the use of linseed and nut oil, which he found most siccative. This is generally believed to have happened about 1410. There is however, a great deal of contradiction among writers as to the van Eycks, no two writers being found to agree. Some assert that John van Eyck introduced his invention both into Italy and Spain, while others declare that he never left his own country, which would seem to be true. Vasari, the first writer on Italian art, awards the invention to Giovanni da Bruggia, and gives an account of its first introduction into Italy by Antonello da Messina, as we shall presently see. But Dominici asserts that oil painting was known and practised at Naples by artists whose names had been forgotten long before the time of van Eyck. Many other Italian writers have engaged in the controversy, and cited many instances of pictures which they supposed to have been painted in oil at Milan, Pisa, Naples, and elsewhere, as early as the 13th, 12th, and even the 9th centuries. But to proceed with the brothers van Eyck, John and Hubert--they generally painted in concert till the death of Hubert, and executed many works in oil, which were held in the highest estimation at the time when they flourished. Their most important work was an altar-piece, with folding doors, painted for Jodocus Vyts, who placed it in the church of St. Bavon at Ghent. The principal picture in this curious production represents the Adoration of the Lamb as described by St. John in the Revelations. On one of the folding doors is represented Adam and Eve, and on the other, St. Cecilia. This extraordinary work contains over three hundred figures, and is finished with the greatest care and exactness. It was formerly in the Louvre, but it is now unfortunately divided into two parts, one of which is at Berlin, and the other at Ghent. Philip I. of Spain desired to purchase it, but finding that impracticable, he employed Michael Coxis to copy it, who spent two years in doing: it, for which he received 4,000 florins. The king placed this copy in the Escurial, and this probably gave rise to the story that John van Eyck visited Spain and introduced his discovery into that country. In the sacristy of the cathedral at Bruges is preserved with great veneration, a picture painted by John van Eyck, after the death of Hubert, representing the Virgin and Infant, with St. George, St. Donatius, and other saints. It is dated 1436. John died in 1441.

According to Vasari, the fame of Masaccio drew Antonello da Messina to Rome; from thence he proceeded to Naples, where he saw some oil paintings by John van Eyck, which had been brought to Naples from Flanders, by some Neapolitan merchants, and presented or sold to Alphonso I., King of Naples. The novelty of the invention, and the beauty of the coloring inspired Antonello with so strong a desire to become possessed of the secret, that he went to Bruges, and so far ingratiated himself into the favor of van Eyck, then advanced in years, that he instructed him in the art. Antonello afterwards returned to Venice, where he secretly practised the art for some time, communicating it only to Domenico Veneziano, his favorite scholar. Veneziano settled at Florence, where his works were greatly admired both on account of their excellence and the novelty of the process. Here he unfortunately formed a connexion with Andrea del Castagno, an eminent Tuscan painter, who treacherously murdered Domenico, that he might become, as he supposed, the sole possessor of the secret. Castagno artfully concealed the atrocious deed till on his death-bed, when struck with remorse, he confessed the crime for which innocent persons had suffered. Vasari also says that Giovanni Bellini obtained the art surreptitiously from Messina, by disguising himself and sitting for his portrait, thus gaining an opportunity to observe his method of operating; but Lanzi has shown that Messina made the method public on receiving a pension from the Venetian Senate. Many writers have appeared, who deny the above statement of Vasari; but Lanzi, who carefully investigated the whole subject, finds no just reason to claim for his countrymen priority of the invention, or to doubt the correctness of Vasari's statement in the main. Those old paintings at Milan, Pisa, Naples, Vienna, and elsewhere, have been carefully examined and proved to have been painted in encaustic or distemper. This subject will be found fully discussed in Spooner's Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects, under the articles John and Hubert van Eyck, Antonello da Messina, Domenico Veneziano, Andrea del Castagno, and Roger of Bruges.

FORESHORTENING.

Foreshortening is the art of representing figures and objects as they appear to the eye, viewed in positions varying from the perpendicular. The meaning of the term is exemplified in the celebrated Ascension, in the Pietá dé Tárchini, at Naples, by Luca Giordano, in which the body of Christ is so much foreshortened, that the toes appear to touch the knees, and the knees the chin. This art is one of the most difficult in painting, and though absurdly claimed as a modern invention, was well known to the ancients. Pliny speaks expressly of its having been practised by Parrhasius and Pausias. Many writers erroneously attribute the invention to Correggio; but Lanzi says, "it was discovered and enlarged by Melozzo da Forli, improved by Andrea Mantegna and his school, and perfected by Correggio and others." About the year 1472, Melozzo painted his famous fresco of the Ascension in the great chapel of the Santi Apostoli at Rome. Vasari says of this work, "the figure of Christ is so admirably foreshortened, as to appear to pierce the vault; and in the same manner, the Angels are seen sweeping through the fields of air in different directions." This work was so highly esteemed that when the chapel was rebuilt in 1711, the painting was cut out of the ceiling with the greatest care, and placed in the Quirinal palace, where it is still preserved.

METHOD OF TRANSFERRING PAINTINGS FROM WALLS AND PANELS TO CANVASS.