## The Project Gutenberg eBook of Old world masters in new world collections

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Title: Old world masters in new world collections

Author: Esther Singleton

Release date: October 16, 2025 [eBook #77067]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: The Macmillian Company, 1929

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77067

Credits: Karin Spence and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD WORLD MASTERS IN NEW WORLD COLLECTIONS ***

OLD WORLD MASTERS
IN NEW WORLD COLLECTIONS

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK . BOSTON . CHICAGO . DALLAS
ATLANTA . SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON . BOMBAY . CALCUTTA MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO

Collection of Mr. J. P. Morgan

GIOVANNA TORNABUONI

—Domenico Ghirlandaio

# OLD WORLD
MASTERS IN NEW
WORLD COLLECTIONS

BY

ESTHER SINGLETON

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1929

Copyright, 1929, By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Set up and electrotyped. Published January, 1929.

SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY T. MOREY & SON

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY BERWICK & SMITH CO.

[vii]

## PREFACE

It is noteworthy that the first book to be published in any country and in any language treating of Old Masters in private Collections should be devoted exclusively to treasures in America.

Old World Masters in New World Collections may be called a permanent loan exhibition of the greatest and most renowned examples of Art in America, which cannot be seen anywhere but in this volume.

It is owing to the gracious response and courtesy of the most distinguished American Collectors that I am able to present between these covers a selection of a hundred and ten of the choicest paintings in the country, representing portraits, religious and mythological subjects, and genre from the Thirteenth through the Eighteenth Centuries.

One of the principal factors in the formation of many of these magnificent Collections has been the outstanding influence of Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart., under whose guidance the foremost American Collections have been raised to a dominating position in the world of art.

It is significant that among the paintings reproduced here, the greater number have been brought to this country by Sir Joseph Duveen; and I am happy to express my thanks to Sir Joseph for his enthusiastic interest and encouragement to me throughout the entire preparation of this volume.

A very interesting feature in this book is the distinguished ownership of these paintings: Frederick the Great, for instance, owned Lancret’s La Camargo, the celebrated French dancer; Queen Christina of Sweden, Raphael’s Agony in the Garden; Madame de Pompadour, Chardin’s La Serinette and Boucher’s Les Deux Confidentes; Sir Joshua Reynolds, Rembrandt’s Standard-Bearer; Sir Horace Walpole, Rembrandt’s Simeon and Mary; and Charles Le Brun, Poussin’s Jupiter and Calisto. Fra Filippo Lippi’s Madonna della Stella came directly to the present owner from the Monastery of the Carmine (Florence) for which it[viii] was painted; Raphael’s Niccolini Madonna, from the Niccolini Palace; Titian’s Caterina Cornaro, from the Riccardi Palace, Florence; Bartolommeo Veneto’s Maximilian Sforza, from the Sforza Palace, Milan; Rubens’s Louis XIII, King of France, from the ex-Emperor of Germany’s Palace of Charlottenburg; and Van Dyck’s Dædalus and Icarus, from the famous Collection of Earl Spencer at Althorp and was consequently in the home of the Duchess of Devonshire, whose beautiful eyes must have frequently looked upon it. Holbein’s Prince Edward of England was painted for King Henry VIII; and with the portrait of Sir Thomas More, Holbein’s great reputation began. Of all Sir Joshua Reynolds’s portraits Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse is considered the greatest; and Gainsborough’s Blue Boy and the Duchess of Devonshire rank among the world’s most famous pictures. Surpassing the Blue Boy in beauty and charm (though not so famous) and depicting withal a far lovelier personality, is Romney’s John Walter Tempest; and Romney’s Lady Derby and the Hon. Mrs. Davenport will stand forever among the loveliest presentations of charming womanhood. On a par with these are La Marquise de Villemomble, by Drouais; La Marquise de la Fare, by Fragonard; and La Marquise de Baglion by Nattier. Many critics call the last named work the greatest French portrait of the Eighteenth Century.

We read with amazement of European Collectors and Collections of the past: of the treasures owned by the wealthy Dukes of Burgundy; by Lorenzo the Magnificent and by other members of the Medici family; by the Sforzas, Gonzagas, d’Estes, and other Italian princes; by the Fuggers, those wealthy bankers of Augsburg; by noble Austrian and German barons; by the great merchant-princes and lords of England from Queen Elizabeth’s day to the present; by Cardinal Richelieu, Cardinal Mazarin and Cardinal de Rohan; and by the Rothschilds and other notable bankers. Yet, in some respects—particularly in the high quality of their Collections and the velocity with which these Collections have been made—our American Collectors surpass them all. On this point Sir Joseph Duveen remarks:

“The particular thing that makes American Collections so unique and so priceless is that their pictures are all masterpieces. In Europe[ix] you will find much larger Collections and these will have, like the Bridgewater for instance, a large number of very mediocre paintings and a few of supreme excellence—gems—magnificent! Many Collections in England and also on the Continent go into hundreds with just a few fine things. In America, on the contrary, every Collector wants the best. He may have only thirty pictures, but they will all be fine. Americans make Collections of masterpieces. That is why they are different. That is why Americans are a new race of Collectors. American Collections are Collections of Masterpieces.”

The Blue Boy purchased from the Duke of Westminster by Sir Joseph Duveen for the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington at the then unheard of sum of $800,000 set the imagination of the American public aflame. When exhibited at the National Gallery, London, and afterwards at the Duveen Galleries, New York, for charity in 1922, the whole world flocked to see it. The Blue Boy proved to be a “sensation.” Within a few months Gainsborough’s masterpiece was followed by Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, also purchased from the Duke of Westminster by Sir Joseph Duveen for the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington for $500,000. Mrs. Siddons was, in her turn, followed by eighteen superb examples of Gainsborough, Romney, Reynolds, and Lawrence, several of which appear in this book. It was, therefore, the English School that started the ball rolling for a new type of Collector, who sought gems of the first water only.

From this period onward great paintings of all Schools—Italian, French, Dutch, Flemish, and Spanish, as well as English—have been coming across the Atlantic in amazing numbers, and with eagerly awaiting purchasers to greet them. The result is that America has become a great Repository of Art, in which the entire country is beginning to take a personal and justifiable pride.

On this question of Art-migration the noted critic and director of the Berlin Museum, Dr. Wilhelm von Bode, wrote not long ago:

“Any one who a decade ago had even hinted at the possibility of Gainsborough’s Blue Boy making its way across the Atlantic to become the central gem in the Huntington Collection would have been thought[x] mad. He might as well have suggested the uprooting of England’s century old oaks, or the removal of the Rock of Gibraltar. And yet the impossible has happened; and not only the famous Blue Boy but many another of the world’s masterpieces has travelled the same route.

“This is the greatest transplantation of art-works the world has known since the Roman plundering of Grecian art and the rape of the churches and museums of Europe whereby Napoleon enriched the Louvre.

“No power on earth can turn back the pages of history to the first of August, 1914, on which day forces were set in motion that were to result in a complete reversal of all hitherto existing political, geographical, social, and economic values. No one could have foreseen at the time that the world’s accumulated art-treasures would also be affected by these sweeping changes.”

From the amazing wealth that has been so generously placed at my disposition, I have been guided by one principle of selection,—that of Beauty!

Art, according to my way of thinking, is something to be enjoyed, something to delight the senses, and something to refresh the mind; and I feel sure that many connoisseurs will agree with me and gladly welcome a book devoted to Old Masters in which not the slightest suggestion of suffering enters. Therefore, in this book there are no Crucifixions, Pietàs, martyrdoms, nor tragedies.

Nor in my definition of Beauty do I recognize any distortion of the word that might include the cant phrase—the “beauty of ugliness.” Beauty, when most subtle, is always obvious; and I agree heartily with Bernard Berenson’s dictum: “And not what man knows but what man feels concerns Art. All else is science.”

Fashions may come and fashions may go, but while these changing tides ebb and flow the great manifestations and expressions of genius shine with undimmed splendor as shine the stars of Heaven over a world racked with dissension and controversy and troubled with many shell-shocked minds. Shakespeare and Shelley and Keats and Tennyson will charm, inspire, and uplift generations to come when yawping vers libre has been thrown into the literary junk-heap;[xi] Beethoven and Chopin and Wagner will delight, astound, and refresh sensitive spirits when the scores of the Twentieth Century cacophonists will be unopened and coated with dust; and Raphael, Botticelli, Watteau, Fragonard, Chardin, Gainsborough, Reynolds, and Romney will fascinate, enthrall, and enrapture lovers of the beautiful when works of jostled planes and lurid color will have been hooted to extinction.

The Torch of Beauty burns brightly through all the confusion of tongues and wild ragings of Twentieth Century iconoclasts. In this belief and hope I have the support of the noted French critic, Robert de la Sizeranne, who says:

“Art never dies, even when all that has maintained it and served as the motive for its very existence—civilization, society, religious belief, social authority—has fallen into irremediable decay. For it has still another reason for existence, which is the powerful one of Beauty. Humanity is not rich enough to dispense with a vision of Beauty. The day comes when it will return to it gladly and acclaim it as if it were a living being.”

Some idea of the value of the paintings shown in this book will be had if I mention a few sums which were reached at the last sales, although the figures have risen considerably since those sales. Here are, for example, twelve paintings:

Gainsborough’s Harvest Waggon, $360,000; Lawrence’s Pinkie, $377,000; Gainsborough’s Blue Boy, $800,000; Reynolds’s Mrs. Siddons, $500,000; Raphael’s Small Cowper Madonna, $700,000; Raphael’s Niccolini Madonna, $875,000; Frans Hals’s Laughing Mandolin Player, $250,000; Botticelli’s Giuliano de’ Medici, $240,000; Raphael’s Agony in the Garden, $500,000; Gainsborough’s The Mall, $500,000; Romney’s The Hon. Mrs. Davenport, $304,700; and Romney’s Anne, Lady de la Pole, $206,850.

Hence it will be seen that these twelve paintings represent considerably more than $5,500,000.

With these figures in mind (and I have not attempted to estimate the Memlings, Holbeins, Bellinis, Crivellis, Titians, Rembrandts, Van Dycks, Fragonards, Nattiers, and others) it will be easily appreciated[xii] that the value of the paintings shown in this book soars beyond millions into the billion dollar class!

It gives me pleasure to offer my thanks to all the Collectors whose pictures are represented and very particularly to Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee, Mr. J. P. Morgan, Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft, and Miss Helen C. Frick who permitted me to have photographs especially taken of the Duchess of Devonshire, and Lady Betty Delmé; Eliza Farren, Countess of Derby; Maria Walpole, Duchess of Gloucester and “The Jessamy Bride”; and Sir Thomas More.

I also wish to thank most cordially Mr. Felix Wildenstein for his valuable advice and approbation and for important material sent to me from Paris and to express my appreciation to Mr. C. R. Henschel of Messrs. Knoedler & Co., and to Mrs. Paul Reinhardt of the Reinhardt Galleries for their warm support and aid.

E. S.

New York

November 8, 1928.

## CONTENTS

CHAPTER |  | PAGES
--- | --- | ---
I. | Italian | 3–153
| Sienese |
| Florentine |
| Umbrian |
| North Italian |
| Venetian |
II. | Flemish | 157–196
III. | Dutch | 199–232
IV. | German | 235–253
V. | Spanish | 257–272
VI. | French, Eighteenth Century | 275–326
VII. | English, Eighteenth Century | 329–428

## ILLUSTRATIONS

Giovanna Tornabuoni | Domenico Ghirlandaio | Frontispiece
Mr. J. P. Morgan. |  |
|  | PAGE
--- | --- | ---
St. Francis and the Beggar | Sassetta | 7
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Madonna and Child with Saints and Angels | Matteo di Giovanni | 11
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Adoration of the Magi | Benvenuto di Giovanni | 13
Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart. |  |
Madonna and Child | Giotto di Bordone | 27
Mr. Henry Goldman. |  |
The Annunciation | Masolino | 29
Mr. Henry Goldman. |  |
Gabriel, the Announcing Angel | Fra Angelico | 33
Mr. Edsel B. Ford. |  |
The Virgin Receiving the Divine Message | Fra Angelico | 35
Mr. Edsel B. Ford. |  |
St. Cosimas and St. Damianus | Fra Angelico | 41
Mr. Albert Keller. |  |
Madonna della Stella | Fra Filippo Lippi | 43
Mr. Carl W. Hamilton. |  |
Madonna and Child | Alesso Baldovinetti | 49
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Portrait of a Young Lady | Piero Pollaiuolo | 53
Mr. Nils B. Hersloff. |  |
Giuliano de’ Medici | Sandro Botticelli | 57
Mr. and Mrs. Otto H. Kahn. |  |
Portrait of a Young Man | Sandro Botticelli | 63
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Madonna and Child | Sandro Botticelli | 65
Mr. Max Epstein. |  |
Giovanna Tornabuoni | Domenico Ghirlandaio | 67
Mr. J. P. Morgan. |  |
Francesco Sassetti and His Son Teodoro | Domenico Ghirlandaio | 71
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Madonna and Child | Gentile da Fabriano | 75
Mr. Henry Goldman. |  |
Madonna and Child with Angels | Benedetto Bonfigli | 79
Mr. and Mrs. Otto H. Kahn. |  |
Madonna and Child | Perugino | 81
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
The Niccolini Madonna | Raphael | 85
Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart. |  |
The Small Cowper Madonna | Raphael | 87
Mr. Joseph E. Widener. |  |
Agony in the Garden | Raphael | 91
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Portrait of a Lady | Pisanello | 101
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Adoration of the Shepherds | Andrea Mantegna | 105
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Virgin and Child with the Infant St. John and Angel | Francia | 109
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Portrait of a Lady | Luini | 111
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Titian’s Schoolmaster | Moroni | 113
Mr. Joseph E. Widener. |  |
Madonna and Child | Antonello da Messina | 123
Mr. Clarence H. Mackay. |  |
Madonna and Child | Crivelli | 127
Mr. A. W. Erickson. |  |
Madonna and Child | Crivelli | 129
Mr. Philip Lehman. |  |
The Virgin and Child with St. Lucy, St. Catherine, St. Peter and St. John the Baptist | Giovanni Bellini | 131
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
The Virgin and Child | Giovanni Bellini | 133
Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas F. Brady. |  |
Madonna and Child | Giovanni Bellini | 135
Mr. Philip Lehman. |  |
Feast of the Gods | Giovanni Bellini | 139
Mr. Joseph E. Widener. |  |
The Virgin and Child | Titian | 141
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Caterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus | Titian | 145
Mr. John Ringling. |  |
Giorgio Cornaro with Falcon | Titian | 147
Mr. A. W. Erickson. |  |
Maximilian Sforza | Bartolommeo Veneto | 149
Mr. Henry Goldman. |  |
A Scene along the Adriatic Coast | Francesco Guardi | 153
Mrs. Charles B. Alexander. |  |
Portrait of a Lady | Roger van der Weyden | 167
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Portrait of a Carthusian Monk | Petrus Christus | 171
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Madonna and Child with Angels | Hans Memling | 173
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Portrait of a Young Gentleman | Hans Memling | 175
Mrs. John N. Willys. |  |
Louis XIII, King of France | Peter Paul Rubens | 177
Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart. |  |
Rinaldo and Armida | Sir Anthony Van Dyck | 183
Mr. Jacob Epstein. |  |
Dædalus and Icarus | Sir Anthony Van Dyck | 185
Mr. Frank P. Wood. |  |
Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick | Sir Anthony Van Dyck | 189
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Queen Henrietta Maria with Jeffrey Hudson and a Monkey | Sir Anthony Van Dyck | 193
Mr. William Randolph Hearst. |  |
The Standard-Bearer | Rembrandt van Rijn | 205
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Portrait of a Young Officer | Rembrandt van Rijn | 209
Mr. A. W. Erickson. |  |
An Old Lady Seated in an Armchair | Rembrandt van Rijn | 211
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Simeon and Mary Presenting the Infant Christ in the Temple. | Rembrandt van Rijn | 213
Mr. Nils B. Hersloff. |  |
Portrait of an Officer | Frans Hals | 221
Mr. Henry Goldman. |  |
The Laughing Mandolin Player | Frans Hals | 223
Mr. John R. Thompson. |  |
A Music Party | Pieter de Hoogh | 225
Mrs. John N. Willys. |  |
The Lace-Maker | Jan Vermeer | 229
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Portrait of a Man | Albrecht Dürer | 239
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Prince Edward of England | Hans Holbein the Younger | 241
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Sir Thomas More | Hans Holbein the Younger | 245
The late Mr. Henry Clay Frick. |  |
Dirk Berck of Cologne | Hans Holbein the Younger | 247
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Jean de Dinteville | Hans Holbein the Younger | 249
Mr. Henry Goldman. |  |
Cardinal Albrecht as Saint Hieronymus | Lucas Cranach the Elder | 253
Mr. John Ringling. |  |
Cardinal Quiroga | El Greco | 261
The late Mr. Henry Clay Frick. |  |
The Virgin Appearing to St. Dominic | El Greco | 263
Mr. J. Horace Harding. |  |
Marianne of Austria | Velasquez | 265
Mr. Philip Lehman. |  |
Philip IV of Spain | Velasquez | 267
The late Mr. Henry Clay Frick. |  |
General Nicolas Guye | Goya | 269
Mr. J. Horace Harding. |  |
Pepito Costa y Bonella | Goya | 271
Mrs. William Hayward. |  |
Jupiter and Calisto | Nicolas Poussin | 279
Mr. Carroll Tyson. |  |
La Danse | Antoine Watteau | 283
Mr. Charles A. Wimpfheimer. |  |
Madame Bonier de la Mosson | Jean Marc Nattier | 287
Mr. Edward J. Berwind. |  |
La Marquise de Baglion | Jean Marc Nattier | 289
Mr. A. W. Erickson. |  |
La Camargo | Nicolas Lancret | 293
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Le Duo | Nicolas Lancret | 295
Mr. and Mrs. Emil J. Stehli. |  |
Une Fête Champêtre | Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater | 297
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Une Fête Galante | Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater | 299
Mr. Edward J. Berwind. |  |
La Serinette | Jean Baptiste Siméon Chardin | 301
The late Mr. Henry Clay Frick. |  |
Les Deux Confidentes | François Boucher | 305
Mrs. William R. Timken. |  |
A Young Girl Reading a Letter | Jean Baptiste Greuze | 307
Mr. John McCormack. |  |
Young Girl | Jean Baptiste Greuze | 309
Mr. William Randolph Hearst. |  |
La Marquise de Besons Tuning a Guitar | Jean Baptiste Greuze | 311
Dr. and Mrs. Henry Barton Jacobs. |  |
La Marquise de Villemomble | François Hubert Drouais | 313
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Mademoiselle Helvetius | François Hubert Drouais | 315
Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff. |  |
L’Invocation à l’Amour | Jean Honoré Fragonard | 317
Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff. |  |
Le Billet-Doux | Jean Honoré Fragonard | 319
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
La Marquise de la Fare | Jean Honoré Fragonard | 321
Mrs. James B. Haggin. |  |
The Fountain in the Park | Hubert Robert | 323
Dr. and Mrs. Henry Barton Jacobs. |  |
Madame Labille-Guiard and Two Pupils | Madame Labille-Guiard | 325
Mr. Edward J. Berwind. |  |
Lady Betty Delmé | Sir Joshua Reynolds | 339
Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee. |  |
The Strawberry Girl | Sir Joshua Reynolds | 343
Mrs. Francis F. Prentiss. |  |
Diana, Viscountess Crosbie | Sir Joshua Reynolds | 345
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |
Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse | Sir Joshua Reynolds | 349
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |
Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire | Sir Joshua Reynolds | 355
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |
The Cottage Door | Thomas Gainsborough | 359
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |
The Mall | Thomas Gainsborough | 365
The late Mr. Henry Clay Frick. |  |
Maria Walpole, Duchess of Gloucester | Thomas Gainsborough | 367
Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft. |  |
Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire | Thomas Gainsborough | 373
Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee. |  |
The Blue Boy | Thomas Gainsborough | 379
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |
General Philip Honywood | Thomas Gainsborough | 387
Mr. John Ringling. |  |
The Harvest Waggon | Thomas Gainsborough | 391
Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart. |  |
John Walter Tempest | George Romney | 393
Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Field. |  |
The Hon. Mrs. Davenport | George Romney | 399
The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. |  |
Lady Derby | George Romney | 401
Mr. Jules S. Bache. |  |
Emma, Lady Hamilton | George Romney | 405
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |
Anne, Lady de la Pole | George Romney | 409
The Hon. Alvan T. Fuller. |  |
The Hon. Mrs. Grant of Kilgraston | Sir Henry Raeburn | 413
Mr. C. Fisher. |  |
Quinton McAdam | Sir Henry Raeburn | 415
Mr. A. W. Erickson. |  |
Mary Horneck, “The Jessamy Bride” | John Hoppner | 417
Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft. |  |
Eliza Farren, Countess of Derby | Sir Thomas Lawrence | 421
Mr. J. P. Morgan. |  |
Pinkie | Sir Thomas Lawrence | 427
The late Mr. Henry E. Huntington. |  |

[1]

## ITALIAN

- Sienese
- Florentine
- Umbrian
- North Italian
- Venetian

[3]

### SIENESE

There are no beginnings of art in Italy. The old civilizations of Etruria, Rome, and Byzantium never perished entirely; and upon their surviving traditions “Christian Art” was built. Old pictorial ideas and old decorative motives were absorbed, rearranged, and worked over again and again in conjunction with theological dogma until in the Thirteenth Century, largely owing to the beautiful character, ideals, and influence of St. Francis, to the intellectual teachings of Dante, and to the fervor aroused by the Crusades, “Christian Art” became a living movement, which inspired, among other important things, the creation of magnificent Cathedrals. When the architects, the carvers of wood and stone, and the makers of the jewel-like windows had finished their work, the best painters of the day were called on to produce altar-pieces that would stimulate religious devotion, charm the worshippers by beauty, and instruct the people (unaccustomed to books) by representation of saintly lives and scriptural stories.

Italian Painting in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries thus shows many of the old Byzantine traditions still lingering in the new “Christian,” or “Gothic Art.”

Siena and Florence were the chief early Italian Schools. Siena was at first the more important of the two and greatly influenced Florentine and also French Painting. The leading early artists of Siena were Guido da Siena, Duccio di Buoninsegna, Ugolino da Siena, Segna di Bonaventura, Simone Martini, Lippo Memmi, Pietro Lorenzetti, Ambrogio Lorenzetti, Lippo Vanni, Andrea Vanni, Bartolo di Fredi, Taddeo di Bartolo, and Stefano di Giovanni (Sassetta).

The next group includes Domenico di Bartolo, Lorenzo Vecchietta, Neroccio di Landi, Benvenuto di Giovanni, Girolamo di Benvenuto, and Matteo di Giovanni.

“To understand and appreciate the painting of Siena one should think of it as the culmination of the art of the Middle Ages rather than[4] as a promise of anything modern. Therein lies the difference which caused so great a gulf between the art of Siena and that of contemporary Florence only forty miles away. Sienese Art may be regarded as the most perfect expression of the Byzantine ideal. It was hieratic and mystic. While Giotto was forecasting the development of modern art by studying nature and making his figures act like the real people whom he saw about him, Duccio and Simone Martini were sounding the Byzantine creed that the Christian saints were not human but divine, not vulgar but regal, not approachable but aloof. To the early Sienese, as to the Byzantine, the Raphaelesque conception of the Madonna as the most tender possible human mother would have been blasphemous bad taste.

“Although Sienese Art was founded on Byzantine and was in a sense the culmination of Byzantine, it was, nevertheless, a Gothic art. In other words it belonged to its period, but it selected certain elements of Gothic style for emphasis.

“In Florence Giotto was inspired by the plasticity of Gothic Art and its naturalism. In Siena Duccio and his followers developed the Gothic living line; and, later, the emotionalism of Gothic spirit. Thus both Florentines and Sienese were Gothic, but in a different way.

“Technically as well as spiritually, the Sienese approached the artistic abstractions of China and Japan. The analogies between Sienese and Oriental Art have been observed by practically every writer on the Sienese School. They have been tacitly attributed however, to accidental similarities in ideals and modes in Siena and the East. As yet no one has been bold enough to suggest an influence derived from actual contact with Eastern Art, but such contact is not beyond the bounds of possibility. In the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries overland communication with the Near East and with China was common and secure. Merchants like the Polos, prelates like John of Monte Corsino, Andrew of Perugia and Friar Odoric of Friuli readily found the way to Cathay, as China was then called. Peking was made a Roman Catholic diocese and Pegolotti of the Bardi banking-house in Florence was moved to write a traveller’s itinerary, remarkably like a modern Baedeker, giving the most minute instructions as to inns, food,[5] servants, and so forth, on the route from Constantinople to Peking. Moslems like Ibn Batuta travelled as widely as Christians, and Oriental travellers visited the Occident. Thus Bar Sauma, a Nestorian of Peking, visited the Pope in 1287 and passed through Tuscany on his way to Paris and Bordeaux two years after Duccio painted the Rucellai Madonna. Not only the Near East and China, but India, was opened to the European and we hear of the martyrdom of one Brother Peter of Siena at a place near Bombay. It was not until the end of the Fourteenth and the beginning of the Fifteenth Century that the conversion of the western Tartars to Islam, the advance of the Seljuk Turks, and the overthrow of the broad-minded hospitable Mongol dynasty in China closed the overland trade-routes. During the next hundred and fifty years while the sea-routes were being discovered Europe seems largely to have forgotten the existence of the Orient. Wild as the theory may sound, therefore, it is possible that actual contact with Oriental Art may account not only for the occasional Mongolian types and bits of Oriental armor to be observed in Sienese Art, but even for something of the spirit of the style.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

#### ST. FRANCIS AND THE BEGGAR.

Sassetta | Collection of
(1392–1450). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

On September 5, 1437, the Minorites of Siena ordered an altar-piece for the Church of San Francesco at Borgo San Sepolcro from Stefano di Giovanni, better known as Sassetta. The artist promised “to paint it with fine gold, ultramarine, and other good colors, to employ all the subtleties of his art, and to make it as beautiful as he could.” Also he promised to complete it in four years. Sassetta, however, made a wrong calculation; for the work occupied him seven, instead of four, years. It was finished on June 5, 1444, and placed above the high altar at Borgo San Sepolcro, where it remained until 1752, when the panels were dispersed. From contemporary documents nine panels were proved in recent years to have been among[6] the decorations of this famous altar-piece; and these panels were shown at the Retrospective Exhibition of Sienese Art held in Siena in 1904.

Seven of these nine panels are now in the Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay: St. Francis and the Poor Knight; St. Francis Renounces his Heritage; St. Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio; St. Francis before the Soldan; St. Francis before Pope Honorius III; St. Francis Receiving the Stigmata; and The Burial of St. Francis.

Another panel, The Marriage of St. Francis to Poverty, is in the Chantilly Museum and the central panel of the altar-piece, representing The Glory of St. Francis, is in the Collection of Mr. Bernard Berenson.

The panel representing St. Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio was long in possession of the Comte de Martel at the Château de Beaumont, near Blois, and the other six panels came from the Collection of the late M. Georges Chalandon, Paris.

It was obvious that for a church dedicated to St. Francis the story of his life should be told in paintings.

It is a little hard to realize that the frescoes by Giotto and his companions depicting the Life of St. Francis had been admired and worshipped for a hundred odd years before Sassetta was called upon by the Sienese Minorites to tell the story again. Sassetta produced an entirely new version with regard to composition, color, and spiritual interpretation.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

ST. FRANCIS AND THE BEGGAR

—Sassetta

There is much to attract an artist in the story of St. Francis, for although his life is not one of much variety, it is full of striking episodes, which afford splendid pictorial opportunities. St. Francis, founder of the great Order of Friars Minor, or Franciscans, and called “the Poor Man of Assisi,” was born in Assisi in 1182, and died there in 1226. He was the son of a rich merchant, who, furious because his son lavished money on the starving poor of the vicinity, demanded that he should renounce his inheritance. This he did with a joyful spirit in public and before the Bishop of Assisi, thereafter devoting himself to the service of the poor. Disciples flocked to his little chapel, called the Portiuncula; and when the New Order celebrated its General[8][7] Chapter in 1219, five thousand friars assembled there. The Order was approved by Pope Innocent III and by his successor, Pope Honorius III. Poverty was the leading characteristic of the Franciscans, or Begging Friars; individually and collectively they refused to own anything whatsoever.

St. Francis journeyed about doing good. His wanderings took him as far as Egypt and Palestine; and it was in the year 1224, on the desolate Mount Alvernia, that he received the Stigmata, or Impression on the flesh of Our Lord’s Five Sacred Wounds, in memory of which the Church instituted a special festival. St. Francis was canonized in 1228, two years after his death.

St. Francis and the Beggar, shown here, tells two episodes of the story. On the left and in the immediate foreground the young St. Francis, having dismounted from his horse, whose head (very finely drawn) appears above his shoulder, is in the act of giving his cloak to a poor beggar; and the latter, very dramatically expresses his delight, surprise, and gratitude. Beyond these figures a winding road, bordered with cypress trees, leads to a handsome villa, presumably the home of St. Francis, beyond which little hills appear on the horizon. The sky, very expansive, is silvery above these hills and grows gradually bluer and bluer until it reaches the top of the picture, or dome of the sky, where a strange castle is seen with banners of the Holy Cross floating from its battlements and turrets. This castle really belongs to the second episode represented on the right, which shows St. Francis sleeping in a little room. This heavenly castle is the vision he has in his dreams. It would appear that the Angel, standing over St. Francis and pointing to the mystical castle in the clouds, is inspiring this mystical dream. It is interesting to note here that Giotto made at Assisi two pictures of St. Francis and the Beggar and The Dream of St. Francis. Sassetta combined the two episodes into one picture.

“Even without documents,” says Berenson, “we should know that this Borgo San Sepulcro polyptych was painted by a contemporary of Masolino, Pisanello, Jacopo Bellini, and Antonio Vivarini. And that the master was a Sienese we should know not only from his pure,[9] flat color and his devotion to line, but in other ways as well. At all events it is he, Stefano Sassetta, who has left us the most adequate rendering of the Franciscan soul that we possess in the entire range of painting.

“Sassetta was not only one of the few masters in Europe of imaginative design, but the most important painter at Siena during the second quarter of the Fifteenth Century, the channel through which Sienese Trecento traditions passed and became transformed into those of the Quattrocento, for nearly all the later painters of Siena were his offspring.”

Stefano di Giovanni was born at Siena in 1392. He was a pupil of Paolo di Giovanni Fei and was deeply influenced by the earlier Sienese painters, Duccio, Simone Martini, and the Lorenzetti brothers. In 1427 he was asked to furnish a design for the font in the Siena Baptistery and he painted the altar-piece of the Madonna Enthroned with Saints in the church, since known as the Osservanza, built for St. Bernardine on the site of his hermitage. Sassetta’s work for the Borgo San Sepulcro did much to popularize Sienese ideas in Umbria. Sassetta made many paintings in Siena and at Cortona, where he was influenced by Fra Angelico. In 1447 he was commissioned to complete the frescoes on the Porta Romana at Siena, begun by Taddeo di Bartolo; and he died in 1450 from exposure while working on this gate. Fifteen years later the frescoes were finished by Sano di Pietro, one of Sassetta’s many pupils and followers.

For a long time Sassetta was forgotten; but of late years there has been much interest in his works, which are of great pecuniary as well as artistic value.

#### MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTS AND ANGELS.

Matteo di Giovanni | Collection of
(1430?–1495). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

Among the most important pupils of the famous Sassetta was the painter and sculptor, Lorenzo Vecchietta, who in turn was the principal master of Matteo di Giovanni, the most celebrated Sienese painter of his time. Therefore we have direct artistic ancestry for[10] Matteo di Giovanni through Vecchietta to Sassetta and to Duccio.

Matteo di Giovanni, also called Matteo da Siena, was the son of a tradesman who came from Siena to Borgo San Sepulcro, where Matteo was born about 1430. His first master is supposed to have been the Umbrian, Piero della Francesca (or Pier dei Franceschi). Removing to Siena, Matteo spent the rest of his days there. His life was uneventful, for he gave all his time to painting. His domestic life must have been somewhat exciting for he was twice married—the second time to a countess—and he had a large family. Matteo was particularly famous for his Madonnas, tender and wistful, with very decorative accessories.

The lovely Madonna and Child with Saints and Angels, represented here, shows this decorative quality of Matteo in its highest expression. The Sienese love for Oriental fabrics[1] appears in the rich attire of the Virgin. Here is no peasant woman in simple robe and mantle, but a lady of high degree, wearing a gown of handsome brocade with the significant pattern of the pomegranate. A white veil, soft and transparent, lightly covers her forehead and her mantle is gracefully drawn up over her head to form a hood. The Holy Child rests comfortably upon her left arm while her right hand, large and firm, gives Him additional support. A light drapery passes around the body of the Holy Child—the Sienese were Oriental enough in their discriminating taste to avoid uninteresting nudity and they also knew how to manage both heavy and light materials—who grasps the Virgin’s tunic with His right hand and has placed his left hand over that of His mother. The golden nimbus of the Virgin is inscribed “Ave (Maria) Gratia Plena.”

[11]

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTS AND ANGELS

—Matteo di Giovanni

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St. Catherine of Siena stands on the right, also wearing a handsome brocade gown and a white veil. She is holding a missal and a fragment of her wheel of torture. On the left we see St. Anthony, in monk’s habit, writing in a book. Behind this group two Angels are singing loudly and joyfully. The background and all the nimbi crowning the heads of the figures are of gold, made the richer by burnished ornamentation.

This picture, painted in tempera on a panel 29 × 20 inches, came from the Collection of Lord Ashburnham, Ashburnham Place, Battle, Surrey, England. Of it Berenson says: “It is not only his (Matteo di Giovanni) most typical and his most characteristic, but also his most impressive and beautiful work; it has every advantage of ivory flesh, golden tone, and gorgeous brocade; and with all these decorative qualities it possesses real humility.”

Among Matteo di Giovanni’s other important paintings are: the Madonna Enthroned (1470) in the Accademia; the Madonna della Neve (1477) and the Coronation of St. Barbara in St. Domenico, Siena; the Assumption of the Virgin in the National Gallery, London; and St. Jerome in his Cell, in the Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

#### ADORATION OF THE MAGI.

Benvenuto di Giovanni | Collection of
(1436–1518). | Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

We have here a charming Sienese version of the ever-popular subject—the Adoration of the Magi. Everything about this picture is radiant, charming, and decorative. The groups in pyramidal form with masses at the base, made rich and beautiful by means of the wise lighting and graceful arrangement of draperies, balanced with lively animals on the right and left, rise higher and higher with more and more delicacy of treatment that suggests the technique of old ivory carving or the miniature painting of Mediæval manuscripts, until the peak is reached in the charming presentation of a lovely walled town with spires lifted heavenward.

[13]

Collection of Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

ADORATION OF THE MAGI

—Benvenuto di Giovanni

[14]

The picture is full of movement, life, joy, and expression. The Holy Child is appreciative (which is an unusual feature) and the animals, too, are taking an enthusiastic part in the ceremony.

The tender and gentle Virgin, seated on a stone bench directly in front and wearing a red robe and a blue mantle, has the Holy Child comfortably placed on her knee. On her left hand she is holding one of the presents. The Holy Child, according to the Sienese fashion, is draped and the linen folded around Him is embroidered in gold. His expression is animated and very sweet and He is raising His little hand in blessing. The eldest of the Magi,[2] Melchior with white hair (what there is left of it) and white flowing beard, is kneeling before the Holy Child and kissing His right foot, wearing a rich golden mantle with a damask pattern in raised gold relief, held by a jewelled girdle. The second Magus, on the left, Balthasar, is clothed in a red brocade mantle embroidered in gold. He has a dark complexion and is removing his crown from his thick black hair and holds in his right hand a piece of gold plate. The third King, Caspar, on the right, is the most attractive figure in the picture,—a typical young prince and dandy of the period dressed in a pale tunic, cut with point in front showing a rich brocade[15] undergarment, and plaited and slashed and bordered according to the latest Fifteenth Century fashions. The sleeves are slashed and ornamented with puffs and a rich girdle holds the dagger with hilt of gold. Lilac trunk-hose, red shoes, and a golden crown complete the costume. His face is delicate and charming and his wavy hair is blonde. He, too, is bringing a piece of gold plate. This radiant figure looks as if he might have stepped from the pages of the Romaunt of the Rose. St. Joseph, behind Balthasar, leans his head on his hand as if he were puzzled. Each one of these six important figures has a flat golden nimbus. Behind St. Joseph, on the left, the ox and the ass, by the intelligent gleam in their eyes, allow us to believe in the legend that animals are endowed with the power of speech on Christmas Eve. Over the roof of their open shed sparkles and scintillates the Star of the East and under the Star we note a bush laden with fruit,—a real Christmas tree! On the right, the group is that of the retinue of the three Kings—people on foot, wide-eyed and curious, and knights on horseback. A beautiful white horse arches his head majestically and surveys the scene; behind him are a very superior horse and a very superior camel, who gaze downward somewhat haughtily, while a third horse looks backward at these companions to see what they are thinking of it all!

As in many ancient paintings, the scene is enacted for us in two episodes. If we look ardently we see the three Magi on their approach to the shrine. We can identify Balthasar on the left; Caspar in the centre; and Melchior on the left of Caspar, followed by their retinue defiling through the gateway of the machicolated wall, behind which the town, with its towers and turrets, domes and roofs, stands out clearly and poetically from its golden horizon.

This painting, tempera on panel (70 × 53 inches), came from the Collection of Sir William Neville Abdy, Bart., Dorking, Surrey, and was exhibited in Paris at the Salle des Etats, Musée du Louvre, in 1885.

Benvenuto di Giovanni di Meo del Guata, also known as Benvenuto da Siena, was, like Matteo di Giovanni, a pupil of Vecchietta. He was born in Siena, September 13, 1436, the son of a mason. In 1453 he was painting in the Baptistery in Siena. He painted in Siena all his life and aided in designing the inlaid marble pavement in the Cathedral[16] and he also decorated the cupola. Benvenuto di Giovanni cared little about the scientific experiments the contemporary Florentine painters were essaying, content to paint in the decorative and charming traditional Sienese manner, of flat and ornamental designs beautifully enriched with gold. It is very interesting to compare this painting with the pageants of Benozzo Gozzoli and Gentile da Fabriano. It holds its own, thereby, for its high decorative quality and peculiar charm.

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### FLORENTINE

It is not strange when Sienese Painting was at its height that its influence should have been felt in Florence, which is only about forty miles distant. The fame of Cimabue (1240?–1301), the founder of the Florentine School, indeed, rests chiefly on the Madonna in the Rucellai Chapel of S. Maria Novella, which modern criticism attributes to Duccio of Siena. Vasari was responsible for accrediting the Rucellai Madonna to Cimabue; and Vasari’s story that when finished “it was carried in solemn procession with the sound of trumpets and other festal demonstrations from Cimabue’s house to the church, Cimabue being highly rewarded and honored for it,” reads like an echo of the triumphal procession of Duccio’s great altar-piece—the Majestas—from the house of that painter to the Cathedral of Siena.

Cimabue, whose name was Cenni dei Pepe, transitional from Byzantine to Gothic, is particularly famed for being the discoverer and teacher of Giotto.

Giotto di Bordone (1276–1336), sculptor and architect as well as painter, is the dominating personality in Trecento Art, and the first Gothic painter of Florence. Giotto’s influence lasted for a hundred years or more (see page 25).

One of Giotto’s associates and followers was Bernardo Daddi, son of Daddo di Simone, a Florentine. The date of his birth is supposed to have been 1280. He died in 1348. About 1317 he was admitted to the Arte de Medici e Speziale, the Guild of Doctors and Apothecaries, from whom the painters obtained their pigments. According to the laws of the period no painter could pursue his art unless he took his degree in that confraternity. The early painters became independent of the Guild of Doctors and Apothecaries after the Guild of St. Luke[3][18] was formed—the special brotherhood of all painters, which spread to every country and to every town—and there is a tradition that Daddi was one of the founders of this Compagnia di San Luca, which would show that this Florentine Guild of St. Luke was organized as early as 1348.

Daddi painted the fresco over the San Giorgio Gate of Florence about 1330 and he also painted the frescoes of the Martyrdom of St. Stephen and St. Lawrence in Santa Croce. Daddi comes very close to Giotto (1276–1336), in dates and in style, although he shows great sympathy with the Sienese painters.

Giotto’s followers—the Giotteschi—worked from about 1330 to 1430 and include: Taddeo Gaddi, Andrea di Cione (better known as Orcagna), Giovanni da Milano, Agnolo Gaddi, Cennino Cennini, Andrea di Firenze, Antonio Veneziano, Spinello Aretino, and Lorenzo Monaco.

These painters prepared the way for greater changes by studying perspective and the human form and by gradually introducing Classic Architecture into their pictures in place of Gothic decoration.

In studying Fifteenth Century Art in Florence we are struck by the great number of goldsmiths and other workers in metal who became painters. There is a reason for this. The most important work in Florence for twenty-two years was the making of the four bronze doors for the Baptistery, the competition for which was won by Ghiberti in 1401. The undertaking was so vast that Ghiberti engaged, at one time or another, nearly all the most talented artists and artisans of Florence. Many painters and sculptors who acquired fame afterwards, such as Masaccio and Donatello for instance, received their early training under Ghiberti.

Of the last-mentioned painter Leonardo da Vinci wrote:

“After the days of Giotto, painting declined again, because everyone imitated the pictures that were already in existence; and this went on until Tommaso of Florence, nicknamed Masaccio, showed, by[19] his perfect works, how artists who would take any teacher but Nature—the mistress of all masters—labor in vain.”

Tommaso Masaccio (1401–1429?) and Tommaso Masolino (1383–1447) worked together in the Brancacci Chapel. Masaccio was the son of a notary in the parish of Castel S. Giovanni in Val d’Arno, learned to draw and paint, joined the Guild of St. Luke in 1424, and became Masolino’s assistant for painting the frescoes in the new Chapel built by Felice Brancacci in the Carmine. When Masolino went to Hungary, Masaccio worked there alone.

Masaccio’s frescoes made an epoch in art, although the painter was little appreciated in his day. He left his work suddenly and went to Rome. Nothing more was ever heard of him. He is thought to have died in Rome in 1429. Almost immediately Masaccio’s work began to be valued and all the Florentines of the Fifteenth Century flocked to study these Brancacci frescoes. Masolino (1383–1447) was appointed in 1423 to paint frescoes in the new Brancacci Chapel in the Carmine and two years later went to Hungary. Returning home after several years, he painted frescoes in various cities (see page 28).

Gerardo, better known as “Starnina” (1354–1408), a pupil of Antonio Veneziano, spent nine years in Spain and on his return to Florence, achieved great fame by his frescoes in the Carmine. The name was taken from that of his father, Jacopo Starna. It is said that “Starnina” was the master of Masolino and Fra Angelico.

Fra Angelico (1387–1455), brings us to another transitional period,—this time from the Gothic to the Renaissance. Fra Angelico, or Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, the angelic and mystical painter and the most beloved of all the early artists, spent his life painting frescoes and altar-pieces for churches and cloisters. He was frequently called by the Pope to Rome, where he died (see page 32).

To this period belong Andrea del Castagno (1390?–1457), a vigorous and austere painter, and Paolo Uccello (1397–1475), named Paolo di Dono, but called Uccello because he kept in his house and painted so many birds. Uccello began life as a goldsmith and assistant to Ghiberti.

No survey of painting in Florence in the Fifteenth Century, however[20] slight, would be complete without reference to the Medici. Art, like all other branches of learning, owed its splendid development to their intelligent sympathy and generous patronage. The Medici began this patronage early. Giovanni de Bicci (1360–1428), the founder of the family, was one of the judges who selected Ghiberti to make the Baptistery doors and Cosimo, “the Father of his Country” (1389–1464), was so liberal a patron of Fra Angelico, Fra Filippo Lippi, Benozzo Gozzoli, Paolo Uccello, Domenico Veneziano, and many others, that we may safely say the great flowering of Florentine Art is almost entirely due to his taste and encouragement.

The Florentine artists, too, were greatly stirred by the meeting of the Council of the Eastern and Western Churches, which was one of the most important gatherings ever held anywhere in the history of the world. This Council was invited by Cosimo to Florence and all the dignitaries and their suites were his personal guests, entertained by him in his various palaces and villas. Picturesque and bizarre these dignitaries were; and the painters had full opportunity to see them when they sat in the Duomo under Brunelleschi’s newly completed dome (then the Eighth Wonder of the World), or when they moved about the streets with their suites.

In his delightful book, The Medici, Col. G. F. Young has called particular attention to the importance of this great Council; how it led Cosimo to found the Platonic Academy; and how the Fall of Constantinople, fourteen years later, changed the world so utterly that no such meeting could ever take place again. In part he says:

“This great gathering of 1439 in Florence had its effect also on Art. We are often inclined to wonder where such painters as Fra Angelico, Benozzo Gozzoli, and Gentile da Fabriano got the idea of the gorgeous robes and strange-looking head-dresses which we see in their pictures of Eastern subjects. It was all taken direct from the life of Florence of this year. During that summer the inhabitants of Florence saw a perpetual succession of grand processions and imposing functions in which these visitors from the East appeared in every kind of magnificent and strange costume. Vespasiano da Bisticci and other writers of the time dilate upon their rich silken robes,[21] heavy with gold, and their fantastic-looking head-dresses, regarded with deep interest by the learned on account of their ancient character. And the painters reproduce these before us in pictorial records, which are valuable to us on that very account, and because this was the last occasion on which these costumes were destined to appear.”

Piero il Gottoso (1416–1469), Cosimo’s son, “carried on” the traditions of the Medici, encouraging Art to such an extent that practically every great work produced in Florence in his time was made for, or inspired by, him. Piero il Gottoso and his cultured wife, Lucrezia Tornabuoni, recognizing Botticelli’s genius, took him into their home and made him one of the family. All of Botticelli’s early works, therefore, belong to the period he spent under the patronage of Piero de’ Medici. Yet, of course, Botticelli is recognized as the particular painter of Lorenzo the Magnificent (1449–1492), son of Piero, and a friend and boyhood companion.

“As had been the case with his father, Piero, the leading artists of the day did most of their work for him, and nearly every work of eminence in painting or sculpture belonging to Lorenzo’s time remaining in Florence, was commissioned by him. Verrocchio did almost all his work for him; that sculptor’s graceful tomb in San Lorenzo over Lorenzo’s father and uncle, his bronze David, and his fountain of The Boy with a Dolphin were all executed for Lorenzo. Botticelli he made his family painter as well as friend and all the pictures of Botticelli’s second period were painted for him. It was Lorenzo who caused Ghirlandaio’s frescoes in Sta. Maria Novella and Santa Trinità to be painted; and it was he who selected and sent Leonardo da Vinci to Milan to become ‘Il Moro’s’ great painter. Among others he also gave commissions to Filippino Lippi, Signorelli, Baldovinetti, Benedetto da Majano, Andrea del Castagno and the Pollaiuoli. The Medici Palace became, Symonds says, ‘a museum at that period unique in Europe, considering the number and value of its art-treasures;’ and these he made available to all young artists for purposes of study. There being at that time no school for sculpture, Lorenzo formed one in his garden near San Marco, collected there casts from many antique statues, placed the school in charge of Donatello’s[22] pupil, Bertoldo, and invited all young sculptors to study there. Among those who did so were Lorenzo di Credi, Michelangelo, and many others afterwards famous.”—Col. G. F. Young, The Medici (London, 1909).

The roll-call is large and marvellous; and when we think of the troubles of the time,—the quarrels, the conspiracies, the dangers of murder, and the constant visitations of the Plague, we almost comprehend refuge in the cloister rather than such extraordinary activity in Art and Learning. Let us look at the greatest names.

Domenico Veneziano (1400–1461), a native of Venice, as his name plainly shows, but employed by Piero il Gottoso, classed in his day with Fra Angelico and Fra Filippo Lippi, a delightful musician, playing on the lute and singing well, and said by Vasari, to have introduced into Florence the Flemish method of using oils. Veneziano taught Piero della Francesca, the Umbrian painter. Then there is Fra Angelico, already mentioned, and there is Fra Filippo Lippi (1406?–1469), a monk, but not a saint like Fra Angelico,—wild and adventurous yet a superlative painter, whose reputation continues to increase and whose Madonnas, usually with the face of Lucrezia Buti, are justly admired (see page 42).

Francesco Pesellino (1422–1457), whose real name was Francesco di Stefano, pupil of his grandfather, Giuliano, and a follower of Fra Filippo Lippi, famous for his decorative qualities and his animals, rare and valued to-day. Another painter of decorative taste, charming and refined, is Alesso Baldovinetti (1425–1499), a follower of Domenico Veneziano and teacher of Ghirlandaio (see page 48).

Then come the famous brothers, workers in gold, silver, and bronze, painters of heroic frescoes, and celebrated as draughtsmen—Antonio Pollaiuolo (1432–1498) and Piero Pollaiuolo (1443–1496), sons, too, of a goldsmith, all three busy, at various times, on the Ghiberti doors (see page 51).

Then there is Pier Francesco Fiorentino, an Umbrian, born in Borgo San Sepolcro about 1430, pupil of Domenico Veneziano, and said to have assisted Ghirlandaio at S. Giminiano in 1475. Next comes Andrea Verrocchio (1435–1488), goldsmith and sculptor, pupil and[23] assistant to Donatello. Andrea di Cione’s nickname of “Verrocchio” (true eye) is self-explanatory. Verrocchio was also an accomplished musician. He was employed by the Medici all his life; and he trained in his workshop, Leonardo da Vinci, Perugino, and Lorenzo di Credi. Verrocchio also planned many of the splendid pageants, for which Florence was so famous, and designed the artistic helmets worn by young Lorenzo and Giuliano at their tournaments. When Lorenzo became head of the Medici he continued the family patronage to Verrocchio. Cosimo Rosselli (1439–1507), followed Paolo Uccello and Alesso Baldovinetti.

Sandro Botticelli (1444–1510), who belongs to both Piero and Lorenzo de’ Medici, was a pupil of Fra Filippo Lippi and was influenced by Antonio Pollaiuolo before he blossomed forth in his full individuality. For many centuries Botticelli has charmed the world, his prestige ever growing greater (see page 55).

Botticelli leads us into another group. Here is Domenico del Ghirlandaio (1449–1494), “the garland-maker,” first a goldsmith, then a pupil of Alesso Baldovinetti and much influenced by Botticelli and Verrocchio. Into his decorative scenes this painter introduced portraits of distinguished Florentines (see page 70).

Then we have one of the world’s greatest geniuses, Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519), painter, sculptor, architect, decorator, designer of pageants and masques, musician, and engineer, and, moreover, a personage of charm and many social gifts. Leonardo was apprenticed to Verrocchio and patronized by Lorenzo de’ Medici, who sent him in 1482 to Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan (see page 93).

Filippino Lippi (1457–1504), son of Fra Filippo Lippi and the nun, Lucrezia Buti (see page 44), a pupil of Botticelli, achieved a fine reputation as a painter and as a man. Lorenzo di Credi (1457–1537), fellow-pupil with Perugino and Leonardo da Vinci in Verrocchio’s studio, esteemed for his execution and careful finish, was an especial favorite with Verrocchio.

Piero di Cosimo, or Piero di Lorenzo (1462–1521?), called Cosimo after his master, Cosimo Rosselli, assisted the latter in decorating the Sistine Chapel in 1480. Piero di Cosimo is famed for his mythological[24] pictures and for a portrait of Simonetta Vespucci (see page 59), now in the Chantilly Museum.

Fra Bartolommeo (1472–1517), whose name was Baccio della Porta, an apprentice of Cosimo Rosselli, became an ardent follower of Savonarola. It was, therefore, a natural step for him to become a Dominican monk in 1500; but he continued to paint and had for a partner Mariotto Albertinelli (1474–1515), a pupil of Cosimo Rosselli and Piero di Cosimo.

Michelangelo (1475–1564), painter, sculptor, architect, poet, and military engineer, was born at Castel Caprese, where his father, Ludovico Buonarroti, was governor of the Castle. Apprenticed to Ghirlandaio, he also worked in the Medici Gardens and became a favorite with Lorenzo. After Lorenzo’s death in 1492, he worked for his son, Piero. Michelangelo’s commanding work, however, was done in Rome, where he went in 1508 to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. In 1547 Michelangelo succeeded Antonio di San Gallo as architect of St. Peter’s.

Raphael Santi (1484–1520) has to be included among the Florentine painters for he worked in Florence during 1504–1508, when he fell under the influence of Leonardo da Vinci and Fra Bartolommeo and painted several important pictures, including the Madonna del Gran Duca (now in the Pitti) and the Madonna del Cardellino (now in the Uffizi). (See page 86.)

Leonardo da Vinci, Fra Bartolommeo, and Michelangelo influenced Andrea del Sarto (1486–1531), pupil of Piero di Cosimo. His real name was Andrea d’Agnolo and because of his facile technique was called “Andrea senza errori”. Francis I had Andrea come to Fontainebleau in 1518; but he soon went home to Florence and died of the Plague.

Franciabigio (1482–1525), son of Christoforo Bigio, partner of Andrea del Sarto and pupil of Albertinelli and Piero di Cosimo, noted for his religious pictures and portraits, and Bronzino (1502–1572), poet and painter (whose name was Angelo Allori), pupil of Jacopo da Pontormo, and famous for his portraits of the Medici family, bring us to the last quarter of the Sixteenth Century.

The great days of painting were over; and they had been great days!

[25]

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Giotto di Bordone | Collection of
(1276–1336). | Mr. Henry Goldman.

Framed by a slightly pointed arch, not sufficiently removed from the old Romanesque curves to be full Gothic, and projected upon a background of gold, appears this graceful Madonna, so unusual in type and of such amazing beauty. Her face, with its almond-shaped eyes (not set obliquely however) and its sweet flower-like mouth, has a Chinese quality that bestows a great charm. On the face there is also an Oriental radiation of gentleness, resignation, and spiritual experience. While looking at us this lovely Madonna—who might answer as well for the Chinese goddess Kuan Yin—seems to be trying to draw us into a contemplation of the Infinite. The dress, too, is unusual. All that we see is a blue mantle lined with silk, shaded in green, white, and pink, decorated by a gold border with an Arabic inscription. This mantle is carried over the head to form a hood and one end is very gracefully thrown across the left arm. On the right shoulder a conventionalized flower is embroidered in gold, reminding us of the star that the Sienese Madonnas usually carry. A white drapery, also having an Arabic border, is folded around the Holy Child, who grasps His mother’s forefinger with His left hand, while with His right He tries to take from her a white rose[4] that she is holding upward. Each head[26] is encircled by a nimbus: that of the Virgin is very large and very decorative with an interlaced pattern of Oriental design; and that of the Holy Child has a foliage design reminiscent of Byzantine ornament. On both sides of the Virgin’s face a pink veil is visible.

This picture, painted on a panel (34 × 25 inches), came from the Collection of M. Eugène Max of Paris.

Many legends have gathered around the name of the great Florentine, doubly famed as painter of marvellous frescoes and as the architect of the Campanile in Florence that is still called by his name. The story of how Giotto, the little shepherd boy tending his father’s flocks on the Apennines, was discovered drawing a sheep on a rock by Cimabue and taken by him to Florence and trained, ultimately becoming the greatest painter of his time and founder of a School, was told by Ghiberti and Leonardo da Vinci many years before Vasari’s day.

Giotto di Bordone is supposed to have been born at Colle di Vespignano, about twenty miles from Florence, in 1266 and he died in Florence in 1337. He was a pupil of Cimabue but surpassed him. About 1300 he was in Rome making the mosaics in the portico of St. Peter’s, a polyptych, and some frescoes in the choir. In 1303–1306 Giotto painted the frescoes in the Arena Chapel in Padua; at Assisi he painted the scenes from the Life of St. Francis in the Upper Church and also some of the frescoes in the Magdalen Chapel in the Lower Church. After 1316 he decorated the Bardi and the Peruzzi Chapels in S. Croce in Florence.

Collection of Mr. Henry Goldman

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Giotto di Bordone

“From the first,” says Mrs. Cartwright, “Giotto adopted a clear, pale tone of coloring, which forms a marked contrast to the dark and heavy tints in use among Byzantine artists, and produces the effects of water-color, while that of the older painters more nearly resembles oils. The technique which he used, both for tempera and fresco-painting, and which remained in use among Florentine artists for the next hundred and fifty years, was in reality founded on the old Greek method which had been practiced during many centuries, although the improvements which he introduced were sufficient to justify the Giottesque artist, Cennino Cennini, in saying that Giotto changed painting from the Greek to the Latin manner and brought in modern[28] art. Yet more striking were the innovations which he introduced in his types, the almond-shaped eyes, long noses, and oval countenances with square, heavy jaws which he substituted for the staring eyes and round faces of Byzantine artists. The few and simple lines of his draperies give a majestic effect to his figures and at the same time sufficiently indicate the structure of the human form beneath; so that in spite of his ignorance of anatomy and modelling, the result is remarkably good.”

Giotto was working in Naples for King Robert in 1333 when he was sent for by the Signoria of Florence and appointed Chief Architect of the State and Master of the Cathedral Works, succeeding Arnolfo del Cambio, who had died in 1310. All work had stopped since that date; but now the authorities had decided to erect a bell-tower and they announced: “For this purpose we have chosen Giotto di Bordone, painter, the great and dear master, since neither in the city, nor in the whole world, is there any other to be found as well fitted for this and similar tasks.” The whole achievement of Giotto’s life was summed up more than a hundred years later when Lorenzo the Magnificent commanded Angelo Poliziano to write a Latin inscription for a bust of Giotto he was placing on Giotto’s tomb in the Duomo:

“Lo, I am he by whom dead Painting was restored to life, to whose right hand all was possible, by whom Art became one with Nature. No one ever painted more or better. Do you wonder at yon fair Tower which holds the sacred bells? Know it was I who bade her first rise towards the stars. For I am Giotto—what need is there to tell of my work? Long as verse lives, my name shall endure!”

#### THE ANNUNCIATION.

Masolino | (1383–1447).
Collection of | Mr. Henry Goldman

We have here a very interesting and important example of interior decoration. The Renaissance has arrived as well as the Announcing Gabriel! The round arch of grey stone (the spandrels of which contain rosettes) frames a sumptuous room divided by a slender Corinthian[30][29] column. The walls and the cassette ceiling are inlaid with mosaic of different colors and the archway leading into another room—the Virgin’s bedroom—has a blue sky sprinkled with gold stars. In the centre of the background richly decorated doors lead into the adjoining room. The general hues of the wall and ceiling are grey, green, and red. The Virgin is seated on the right upon a tall and not very comfortable Italian settee. She has on a light blue mantle which falls around her in graceful folds. Her parted light hair is surrounded by a golden nimbus of decorative design. She holds an open prayer-book with one hand and with the other makes a gesture of submission and humility as she listens to the message of the Angel. Whether she sees Gabriel or not, she evidently hears what he has to tell her. The Angel, too, expresses reverence with hands crossed upon his breast. He wears a rich claret-colored, velvet brocade embossed with gold flowers and above his fair hair, which is tightly curled, shines a golden nimbus decorated with flower-like rosettes. His wings seem not to have quite quieted down from the flight from Heaven to earth.[5] Of[31] this picture (painted on a panel 58¼ × 45¼ inches), which came from the Collection of Lord Wemyss at Gosford House, Longniddry, Haddingtonshire, Scotland, Berenson says:

“The decorative effect is so strong and so enchanting that like the rest of Masolino’s art it scarcely finds precedence in Florence or even in Italy. The suavity, the grace, the splendor, although paralleled in Gentile da Fabriano and in Sassetta, would seem inspired rather by the ecstatic mood of Parisian painting toward 1400 with its figures of angelic candor and skies of heavenly radiance than by Tuscan models.”

Collection of Mr. Henry Goldman

THE ANNUNCIATION

—Masolino

Masolino, the son of a house painter, was born in Panicale in 1383. His real name was Tommaso di Cristoforo di Fino, and he was familiarly called Masolino da Panicale. According to Vasari he was a pupil of “Starnina” and worked under Ghiberti. He was admitted into the Florentine Guild of Painters in 1423. In that year he was commissioned to paint the frescoes in the new chapel of the Carmine, built by Felice Brancacci, and he took for his assistant, Masaccio, who went on with the work when Masolino was sent to Hungary in 1425 to decorate a church at Stuhlweissenburg.

When Masolino returned to Florence—after several years—he found that great changes had taken place in art, for the painters had been busy with the new problems of perspective and light and shade and the substitution of Classic for Gothic architecture and decoration. Masolino availed himself of the new ideas, but could not quite forget his Giottesque traditions. He painted frescoes in Rome, Naples, and Lombardy.

[32]

“Masolino,” Vasari wrote, “was a man of rare intelligence and his paintings are executed with great love and diligence. I have often examined his works and find his style to be essentially different from the styles of those before him. He gave majesty to his figures and introduced finely designed folds in his draperies. He began to understand light and shade and to give his forms relief and succeeded in some very difficult foreshortenings. He also gave greater sweetness of expression to his women heads and gayer costumes to his young men, and his perspective is tolerably correct. But, above all, he excelled in fresco-painting. This he did so well, and with such delicately blending colors, that his flesh tones have the utmost softness imaginable; and if he could have drawn more perfectly, he would deserve to be numbered among the best artists.”

#### GABRIEL, THE ANNOUNCING ANGEL.

Fra Angelico | Collection of
(1387–1455). | Mr. Edsel B. Ford.

This panel and the one succeeding it, The Virgin Receiving the Divine Message, originally formed a diptych. In treatment and expression they resemble the figures in Fra Angelico’s Annunciation in the Oratorio del Gesù at Cortona.

Collection of Mr. Edsel B. Ford

GABRIEL, THE ANNOUNCING ANGEL

—Fra Angelico

The Archangel, according to Dante’s expression, has brought the long-desired tidings and he stands on a background of gold with wings still extended like those of a dove, just alighted from the heavens, looking into Mary’s face very earnestly, and pointing upward to emphasize to her that he comes from the spheres above. This Gabriel is one of the most beautiful of Fra Angelico’s most beautiful angels, his wings being of an extraordinary elegance of contour and a peculiar loveliness of color—rose, violet, green, and yellow, scintillating in iridescent play. His crimson robe, shading into high lights and fainter tones, is richly, although very simply, decorated with bands of gold embroidery in the Byzantine style. The hair is blonde and beautifully curled and the head stands out in fine relief from the golden glory. Notice the beauty of the ear and the distinguished line of the[34] neck, the calm, deep, unattached gaze of the eye, the refined and sensitive nose, the pure and lovely mouth, and the graceful, strong, and very psychic hands. This figure perfectly fits Ruskin’s tribute to Fra Angelico in Modern Painters:

“The art of Fra Angelico, both in drawing and color, is perfect, and his work may be recognized at any distance by its rainbow play and brilliancy, like a piece of opal among common marbles. In order to effect clearer distinction between heavenly beings and those of this world, he represents the former as clothed in draperies of the purest color, crowned with glories of burnished gold and entirely shadowless; the flames on their foreheads waving brighter as they move; the sparkles streaming from their purple wings like the glitter of the sun upon the sea; while they listen in the pauses of alternate song for the prolonging of the trumpet blast and the answering of psalm and harp and cymbal, throughout the endless deep and from all the star-shores of Heaven. This mode of treatment, combined as it is with exquisite choice of gesture and disposition of drapery, gives perhaps the best idea of spiritual beings which the human mind is capable of forming.”

#### THE VIRGIN RECEIVING THE DIVINE MESSAGE.

Fra Angelico | Collection of
(1387–1455). | Mr. Edsel B. Ford.

In an attitude of divine submission, devout humility, and serene grace, the Virgin Mary is listening to the words of the Angel Gabriel. Her brow is almost as clear and pure as that of Gabriel himself and her features are beautiful, especially those heavy-lidded eyes. Her blonde hair is exquisitely arranged, confined by a band of black velvet and encircled by a nimbus, of which she is apparently unconscious. Mary wears a crimson robe with bands of gold around the neck and sleeves, over which is a blue mantle lined with yellow. Her hands are capable, exquisite, and very high bred; and in the left one she holds, with rare grace, a red book.

Collection of Mr. Edsel B. Ford

THE VIRGIN RECEIVING THE DIVINE MESSAGE

—Fra Angelico

Like the companion panel, Gabriel, the Announcing Angel, the background[36][35] is gold. The dimensions of each are 14½ × 10 inches. Both pictures were long in the Collection of the Duke of Hamilton at Hamilton Palace; and afterwards were in the Collection of Mr. John Edward Taylor and in that of Mr. Carl W. Hamilton. In an unpublished letter regarding these works Mr. Berenson writes:

“They are among the sweetest, purest, and most candid of Fra Angelico’s paintings. I could not easily point to others which better justify the surname of ‘The Angelic’ given to this artist, who was so great that he was child-like. These panels date from about 1425, that is to say from the best year of Fra Angelico’s maturity. They show his best self, emancipated from the cramping traditions he was heir to, but not yet showing sign of spiritual fatigue leading finally to his painting a little by rote. In coloring they are exquisite; and for pictures five centuries old, they are almost miraculously well preserved.”

Vasari’s words show how deeply Fra Angelico was appreciated by men who lived closer to his time than we:

“This truly angelic father spent his whole life in the service of God and his fellow-creatures. He was a man of simple habits and most saintly in all his ways. He kept himself from all worldliness and was so good a friend to the poor that I think his soul must be already in Heaven. He worked continually at his art, but would never paint anything but sacred subjects. He might have been a wealthy man, but he did not care for money and used to say that true riches consist in being content with little. He might have enjoyed high dignities both in his convent and in the world, but he cared nothing for these things, saying that he who would practice painting has need of quiet and should be free from worldly cares; and that he who would do the work of Christ must live continually with Him. He was never known to be impatient with the Brothers,—a thing to me almost incredible! When people asked him for a picture he always replied that, with the Prior’s approval, he would try and satisfy their wishes. He never corrected or retouched his works, but left them as he first painted them, saying that such was the will of God. He never took his pencil up without a prayer and could not paint a Crucifixion[37] without the tears running down his cheeks. And the saints that he painted are more like saints in face and expression than those of any other master. And since it seemed that saints and angels of beauty so divine could only be painted by the hand of an angel, he was always called Fra Angelico.”

Fra Angelico was born in 1387 in a little hamlet called Vicchio, in the province of Mugello in Tuscany, about twenty miles from Florence. His surname is unknown—if indeed he had one—for his father, who lived in a cottage belonging to the lord of the Castle of Vicchio, was simply known as Pietro of Mugello. Guido was the name his father gave him but he changed this to Fra Giovanni, when he became a monk of the Dominican Order at Fiesole in 1406. It is supposed that he had been thoroughly trained as a painter, because he immediately began to paint frescoes for the monks; and it is also supposed that “Starnina” was his master. Owing to religious troubles, the Dominican monks were driven from Fiesole to Foligno and thence to Cortona, where the earliest extant works—movable altar-pieces—of Fra Angelico are preserved. In 1418 the Dominicans returned to Fiesole, where Fra Angelico, or rather Fra Giovanni, lived for the next few years and where he painted many of his most famous altar-pieces.

In 1434 Cosimo de’ Medici was recalled from banishment and he immediately had the Convent of San Marco rebuilt for the Dominican monks of Fiesole. When the new building was ready in 1436 he commissioned Fra Angelico to decorate the walls. In a cell which Cosimo de’ Medici had reserved for his own personal retreat from worldly cares, he had Fra Angelico paint a large Adoration of the Magi, for he desired to have “this example of Eastern kings laying down their crowns at the manger of Bethlehem always before his eyes as a reminder for his own guidance as a ruler.”

While Fra Angelico was busy on a series of small panels depicting the Life of Christ for a credenza in which the altar-plate was kept and which had been ordered by Piero de’ Medici (Cosimo’s son), Pope Eugenius IV called him to Rome, to paint a chapel in St. Peter’s. Three of the remaining panels of the credenza were painted by Alesso Baldovinetti.

[38]

After completing the chapel in St. Peter’s, Fra Angelico was invited to paint in the Cathedral at Orvieto; and, on finishing the work there, he returned to Rome to spend three years decorating the Pope’s Oratory in the Vatican. In 1450 he was back in Florence, and he began the new year of 1451 as Prior of his old monastery at Fiesole. Again he went to Rome and died there in the House of his Order at Santa Maria sopra Minerva on March 18, 1455. He was buried in the monastery church by the high altar and not far from the tomb of St. Catherine of Siena. Pope Nicholas V wrote for him a Latin epitaph, the last line of which reads: “That city which is the flower of Etruria bore me, Giovanni.”

The paintings of Fra Angelico are noted for their fine composition, beautiful coloring, and variety and expression in the heads and faces of his persons and Angels. Fra Angelico’s Angels are particularly beautiful; and it is reasonable to infer that it is because of these Angels so many of his works have been preserved. No other painter of the Fifteenth Century has been treated with so much reverence as Fra Angelico. The consequence is that there are somewhere between two and three hundred of his compositions in existence. The greater number are still in Florence. Every large gallery, however, possesses one or more. Among the most famous ones that all the world knows and loves are The Virgin and Child surrounded by Twelve Angels, ten of whom are playing musical instruments (now in the Uffizi); Christ with the Banner of Resurrection (in the National Gallery, London); and The Coronation of the Virgin (in the Louvre), of which Gautier said the figures represented “visible souls rather than bodies—thoughts of human form enveloped in chaste draperies of white, rose, and blue, sown with stars and embroidered, clothed as might be the happy spirits who rejoice in the eternal light of Paradise.” Fra Angelico’s greatest frescoes are in the Convent of San Marco at Florence and in the Vatican at Rome.

Fra Angelico is classed variously as a “Primitive,” a “Gothic,” an “International,” and an “Early Renaissance” painter. The fact is he stands between the old and the new. His position in Art is very definitively described by Berenson:

[39]

“Yet simple though he was as a person, simple and one-sided as was his message, as a product he was singularly complex. He was the typical painter of the transition from Mediæval to Renaissance. The sources of his feeling are in the Middle Ages, but he enjoys his feelings in a way which is almost modern; and almost modern also are his means of expression. Moreover, he was not only the first Italian to paint a landscape that can be identified (a view of Lake Trasimene from Cortona) but the first to communicate a sense of the pleasantness of Nature.”

As a tribute to his spiritual qualities let us listen to Mrs. Cartwright’s eulogy:

“All the mystic thought of the Mediæval world, the passionate love of God and man that beat in the heart of St. Francis, the yearnings of Dante’s soul after a higher and more perfect order, the poetic dreams of the monks who sang of the Celestial Country are embodied in the art of Angelico. The depth and sincerity of his own religious feeling lent wings to his imagination and the exquisite purity of his soul breathes in every line of his painting: it is his own sweet and gentle fancy that brings down these enchanted visions of Paradise.”

#### ST. COSIMAS AND ST. DAMIANUS.

Fra Angelico | Collection of
(1387–1455). | Mr. Albert Keller.

About the year 1436 Cosimo commissioned Fra Angelico to paint the altar-piece for the Church of San Marco in Florence (see page 37). Underneath the group of the Virgin and Child Fra Angelico painted for the predella nine beautiful panels representing the legendary history of Cosimas and Damianus, the patron saints of the Medici family. The panel, shown here, tempera on wood (14¼ × 18 inches), which comes from the collection of Mr. F. Böhler of Munich, is one of these nine pictures. The companion pictures of this S. Marco altar-piece are now in Dublin, Florence, Munich, and Paris.

This composition, divided into two episodes in one building, represents the traditional benevolence of the two Saints, Cosimas and Damianus.[40] In the scene at the left, enacted within a room, which we view through a large, rounded, door-like opening, St. Cosimas and St. Damianus, with golden nimbi, are administering to a sick man sitting up in a bed which is elevated on a daïs. The two Saints, in the blue robe, red mantle, and red and white biretta of the physicians, are standing on either side of the bed, offering nutriment to the invalid and giving their benediction. Kneeling behind the bed-head are a man and a woman, the latter wearing a red mantle and white hood, the former a turban-like cap. Over the bed stretches a deep, square, brown canopy with an olive-green curtain all around it. On the daïs rests a tray with an ewer, and beside it on the floor, we see a round stool with three legs, and a foot-stool.

The scene on the right, takes place in a cobbled court-yard of a white house, and here we see one of the Saints, in his physician’s gown, colored as in the first scene, who has just handed to an aged woman a loaf of bread, receiving no payment but raising his right hand in benediction. The woman, dressed in a mauve gown and white veil, is cleverly and gracefully posed within a small doorway, and behind her is a room with an open door still farther back, through which flowering shrubs are seen; and in this inner room a ray of light glints on the floor. High on the top of the wall a large terra-cotta flower-vase is silhouetted against a blue sky, and at the left of this there is a narrow slit window.

Collection of Mr. Albert Keller

ST. COSIMAS AND ST. DAMIANUS

—Fra Angelico

“Cosimas and Damianus were two brothers, Arabians by birth, but they dwelt in Ægæ, a city of Cilicia. Their father having died while they were yet children, their pious mother, Theodora, brought them up with all diligence, and in the practice of every Christian virtue. Their charity was so great, that they not only lived in the greatest abstinence, distributing their goods to the infirm and poor, but they studied medicine and surgery, so that they might be able to prescribe for the sick, and relieve the sufferings of the wounded and infirm; and the blessing of God being on all their endeavors, they became the most learned and the most perfect physicians that the world had ever seen. They ministered to all who applied to them, whether rich or poor. Even to suffering animals they did not deny their aid, and they constantly[42] refused all payment or recompense, exercising their art only for charity and for the love of God; and thus they spent their days. At length those wicked Emperors, Diocletian and Maximian, came to the throne, in whose time so many saints perished. Among them were the physicians, Cosimas and Damianus, who, professing themselves Christians, were seized by Lycias, the proconsul of Arabia and cast into prison. At first they were thrown into the sea, but an Angel saved them; and then they were cast into fire, but the fire refused to consume them; and then they were bound on two crosses and stoned, but of the stones flung at them, none reached them, but fell on those who threw them and many were killed. So the proconsul, believing that they were enchanters, commanded that they should be beheaded, which was done.” This Oriental legend, which is of great antiquity, was transplanted into Western Europe in the first ages of Christianity. The Emperor Justinian, having recovered, as he supposed, from a dangerous illness, by the intercession of these saints, erected a superb church in their honor. Among the Greeks Cosimas and Damianus succeeded to the worship and attributes of Æsculapius; and from their disinterested refusal of all pay or reward they are distinguished by the honorable title of Anargyres, which signifies moneyless, or without fees.

#### MADONNA DELLA STELLA.

Fra Filippo Lippi | Collection of
(1406?–1469). | Mr. Carl W. Hamilton.

This picture came directly from the Monastery of the Carmine Brethren in Florence to the present owner. It is painted in tempera on a panel 32⅝ × 25¼ inches. The Madonna, with head half turned towards the right, is standing at half length and holding the Holy Child very lovingly in her arms. She wears a dark-green, hooded mantle, with wide gold border and fastened across the breast with two narrow straps of gold embroidery. Under this is seen a bright crimson robe falling in tight, formal plaits from the neck. The sleeve of the right arm shows a gold embroidered band at the wrist. On the right shoulder of the mantle is embroidered a golden star (reminiscent[44] of the Sienese decoration), from which the picture takes the name of Madonna della Stella. The head-dress, which permits a little of the blonde hair to be seen, is of a soft, white muslin, which is delicately folded and carried around the base of the long, slender neck. Above the head-dress is a very large golden nimbus with lines radiating from the centre. The Holy Child is firmly supported by both arms of the Virgin and rests His left foot on her right arm, while His right leg hangs down behind her wrist. The Holy Child is swathed in a drapery of purple hue and His head is also encircled by a golden halo. With His left hand He grasps the folds of His mother’s head-dress, where it falls upon her neck, and with His right He supports His chin in a very mature and contemplative way. The background is composed of a loosely hanging gold brocade of decorative pattern. The extravagant use of gold produces a warm and lustrous gleam and glow and the deep colors stand out from the background with great richness and beauty.

Collection of Mr. Carl W. Hamilton

MADONNA DELLA STELLA

—Fra Filippo Lippi

It is generally accepted that Lucrezia Buti, the young nun whom Fra Filippo Lippi stole from the Convent of Santa Margherita, served as the model for this Madonna and that the Infant Jesus is none other than Fra Filippino Lippi, the future painter. Comparison with the tondo in the Pitti Palace, representing the Madonna with Saints, in which Lucrezia Buti is known to appear, shows the same oval face, slender neck, expressive eyes, dilated nostrils, full lips, slightly dimpled chin, and wistful glance.

Fra Filippo Lippi is one of the strangest personalities in the history of art. He became a Carmelite monk from circumstance rather than choice; and nobody was ever less fitted to belong to Holy Orders than this gay, adventure-loving Florentine. “Lippi was very fond of good company,” Vasari notes, “and led a free and joyous life.” Fra Filippo Lippi presents a strange contrast to the saintly Fra Angelico, who was his contemporary and fellow-worker. Filippo Lippi, son of a butcher, was born in or about 1406, in a street behind the Carmine Church in Florence; and, being left an orphan, was cared for by an aunt, who took him at the age of eight to the Convent of Sta. Maria del Carmine and gave him to the Friars to rear. The[45] Friars soon discovered the boy’s extraordinary talent for drawing, and, fortunately, encouraged it, sending him to study under Lorenzo Monaco.

At this time Masaccio was at work in the Brancacci Chapel of the Carmine Church, and young Lippi used to watch him with profound interest and delight. In 1421 Filippo Lippi became a Carmelite monk; but he was permitted to continue his painting and he executed many frescoes for church and cloister. In ten years’ time he left the monastery to give his whole life to his art. However, he always signed his pictures “Frater Philippus.” Though not a copyist, by any means, Fra Filippo Lippi shows in his works how much he admired and how much he learned from Masaccio, Masolino, Domenico Veneziano, and Fra Angelico.

Adventures of many kinds filled his life; for instance, there is a story that he was captured by Moorish pirates one day while sailing for pleasure, and taken to Barbary as a slave and that because he drew his master’s portrait so cleverly, he was given his freedom a year or so later. This—if it happened at all—happened in 1431–1434. About the last-named date Fra Filippo Lippi was employed by Cosimo de’ Medici, who took a great fancy to the lively Friar and was most indulgent to his pranks and misdemeanors, excusing everything he did because of his genius and his attractive personality. Fra Filippo Lippi decorated many churches, palaces, and villas for his patron. Among the first works that Lippi painted for the Medici Palace (now the Riccardi) were the Annunciation and St. John the Baptist with Six Other Saints (both in the National Gallery, London). Lippi’s most important picture in Florence is his Coronation of the Virgin.

“Lippi’s character, however, only affects his credit as a painter by accounting for the kind of success he achieved. He had, as was to be expected, no ears for the message which Donatello was at this time teaching, and consequently his pictures on religious subjects have an exceedingly mundane character. Nevertheless, the sweet seriousness of his Madonnas falls in no way short of those of Fra Angelico, and the faces of his children are full of a quaint, mischievous character which is delightful, while in both drawing and coloring he shows[46] the immense advance which had now taken place in Painting. And it is here that Lippi’s true claim to fame lies. Masaccio, the only man who up to that time had found out the true methods of the art of Painting, had died too soon to be able to make known his discovery, except to the few who could visit Florence and the Brancacci Chapel. It was left for Lippi, the rough boy whom he had taught, to show the world Masaccio’s discovery. And Lippi did so. Vasari says: ‘Taught as he had been by Masaccio, he was a faithful follower of Masaccio’s style;’ and he adds that he followed the latter’s methods so faithfully, that it appeared that the spirit of Masaccio had entered Lippi’s body. Thus what Masaccio had done for the art of Painting is chiefly to be seen by a comparison of Lippi’s pictures with those of Masaccio’s immediate predecessors, the Giotteschi. Lippi’s principal picture in Florence is his Coronation of the Virgin painted for Cosimo and now in the Accademia delle Belle Arti; but his best work is considered to be his frescoes in the Cathedral at Prato painted between 1456 and 1465.

“It was not an easy thing to get any work out of Lippi. There is an amusing story of how, when he was painting this picture for Cosimo, the latter being at last in despair (owing to Lippi’s lazy ways) of ever seeing the picture finished, had him locked up in the room in the Medici Palace where it was being painted, declaring that he should not be let out until the work was done. Whereupon Lippi tied his bedclothes into a rope, let himself down from the window into the street and disappeared into the slums of Florence, not to be found again for many days.”[6]

Lippi’s drunkenness and his unscrupulous behavior brought him many times before the magistrates and on one occasion he was flogged for embezzlement. However, the Medici family always came to the rescue and helped him out.

In 1452 he was made Chaplain of San Niccolò de Fieri, Florence, and in 1456 Chaplain of Santa Margherita, Prato, and here again it was Cosimo de’ Medici, who obtained these posts for him. At Prato he painted some of his finest pictures. Requested by the Abbess of[47] Sta. Margherita to paint a picture for the Chapel, the gay Friar, who was now over fifty, fell in love with a young nun of twenty-one, Lucrezia Buti, who had taken the vows two years previously. At the Festival of the Holy Girdle in 1456, Fra Filippo Lippi managed to carry off the pretty nun and take her to his house in the vicinity. The next year Filippino Lippi was born, who appears in the arms of Lucrezia Buti in the Madonna della Stella represented here. Two years later Lucrezia Buti re-entered the Convent; but she soon tired of it and returned to Fra Filippo Lippi. A charge of abduction was then brought against the painter, who again appealed to Cosimo de’ Medici; and, through the latter’s influence, Pope Pius II absolved monk and nun from their religious vows and declared them lawfully married.

“I laughed heartily when I heard of Fra Filippo’s escapade,” Giovanni de’ Medici, Cosimo’s younger son, remarked; and that remark shows exactly how the Medici felt towards Fra Filippo Lippi. They adored him as an artist and they did not take him seriously as a man.

About 1465 Fra Filippo Lippi left Prato and went to Spoleto, taking Lucrezia and his two children (there was now a daughter); and there, still under the patronage of the Medici, the energetic painter-monk produced a splendid series of frescoes depicting one of his favorite subjects, the Coronation of the Virgin. Fra Filippo was working on the Duomo at Spoleto when he died in 1469. Fra Filippo Lippi gains additional fame for having been the first master of Botticelli. His contemporaries—without dissent—regarded Fra Filippo Lippi as the “rarest master of the time.” Fra Filippo Lippi was one of the first to use the tondo form.

“His dreams were all of the earth and his thoughts never soared beyond the gladness and beauty of the natural world. He paints the merry, curly-headed boys whom he met in the streets of Florence as cherubs, takes his mistress as a model for his Madonnas, and peoples the court of heaven with fair maidens in rich attire and dainty head-gear. A thorough-going realist at heart, his naturalism differed wholly from that of his contemporaries, Paolo Uccello, or Andrea del[48] Castagno. He never troubled his head with scientific problems, or new technical methods. The old tempera painting was good enough for him and he carried this form of art to the highest perfection, while at the same time he profited by all the advance which Masaccio and his followers had made, and gave a marked impulse to the new realism by the strong human element which he introduced in his works. His genial delight in all bright and pleasant things, in the daisies and the springtime, in rich ornament and glowing color, in splendid architecture and sunny landscapes, in lovely women and round baby faces, fitted him in especial manner to be the herald of that fuller and larger life which was dawning on the men and women of the Renaissance.”[7]

Fra Filippo Lippi’s son, Filippino Lippi (1457–1504), inherited his father’s talent and was trained by Botticelli. It was Lorenzo de’ Medici, who recommended to the Friars of the Carmine that they should employ Fra Filippo Lippi’s son to finish Masaccio’s frescoes in the Brancacci Chapel. Filippino did this to everyone’s satisfaction and in The Trial of St. Peter and St. Paul he introduced portraits of Antonio Pollaiuolo, Botticelli, and himself. Filippino achieved an enormous reputation and was beloved for his modesty and gentleness of character. As in the case of his father, the next generation of the Medici continued their patronage to a Lippi.

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Alesso Baldovinetti | Collection of
(1425–1499). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

In the charming picture represented here, on canvas transferred from panel (29 × 21 inches), which was formerly in the possession of Arnoldo Corsi in Florence and afterwards in the Collection of Mr. William Solomon in New York, the Madonna, seen at three-quarter length, is seated in a chair. She is turned slightly to the left and wears a red tunic edged with gold and a blue mantle. Over the white veil, which covers her temples and hides her ears, is folded a golden-brown head-dress that descends to her shoulders. Her head is encircled by a gold[50] nimbus. She is gazing at the Holy Child in her lap with downcast eyes and pensive expression. The Holy Child, who is nude, wears a red coral necklace, from which a “charm” hangs. Around His head is a very decorative cruciform nimbus. In His right hand He holds a narrow piece of white drapery and He raises His left hand in a benediction in the Greek manner. The landscape in the background recedes gently towards a distant range of hills, showing scanty vegetation beneath a light-blue sky. Bernhard Berenson has pronounced this a very characteristic work of Baldovinetti’s middle years, painted before the pictures now in the Uffizi.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Alesso Baldovinetti

Alesso Baldovinetti, born in Florence in 1425, was a pupil of Domenico Veneziano and became a member of the Painters Guild in 1448, when he was twenty-three. His entry-book, a copy of which is preserved in the Archives of S. Maria Nuova, containing his accounts and orders, begins with the date 1449. One of his first commissions was to finish some panels begun by Fra Angelico for a credenza in the Medici Chapel of the Annunziata (see page 37), and some paintings on the doors of the vestry of Santa Annunziata (now in the Museum of San Marco), which also completed a series begun by Fra Angelico. Thenceforward he painted frescoes and altar-pieces, including an altar-piece representing the Annunciation for the Chapel of the Medici villa at Caffagiuolo (now in the Uffizi) and the fresco representing the Birth of Christ in Santa Annunziata (1460–1462). In 1470–1473 he was busy on the altar-piece in the San Ambrogio and the Trinita (now in the Accademia). Of the frescoes of Santa Trinità, on which he worked until 1497, only a small portion remains. Other unquestionable works by Baldovinetti are the Madonna and Saints (in the Uffizi) and a few pictures in private collections.

Baldovinetti also painted a great number of panels for private altars and he frequently turned from religious subjects to decorate marriage-chests and other sumptuous furniture. He also worked in mosaics, made cartoons for stained glass, and produced designs for intarsia,—all of which developed his delightful, decorative qualities.

Baldovinetti’s entire life seems to have been absorbed in painting. He married late. After the death of his wife, he entered the hospital[51] of S. Paolo of the Third Order of St. Francis and bequeathed what few possessions he had to this house of charity. After his death in Florence in 1499, a large chest that belonged to him was opened; but the monks, instead of seeing the hoped-for gold, only found a book on mosaic-work and some drawings. “No one was really surprised,” says Vasari, who tells the story, “for Baldovinetti was so kind and courteous that he shared everything he possessed with his friends. Alesso was a very diligent artist, who tried to copy minutely every detail in Mother Nature. He loved painting landscapes exactly as they are, and you see in his pictures rivers, bridges, rocks, plants, fruit-trees, roads, fields, towns, castles, and an infinite number of similar objects. In his Nativity you can count the separate straws and knots in the thatched roof of the hut and you see the stones in the ruined house behind, worn away by rain, and the thick root of ivy growing up the wall is painted with so much accuracy that the green leaves are differently shaded on either side; and among the shepherds he introduced a snake crawling in the most natural manner along the wall.”

#### PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG LADY.

Piero Pollaiuolo | Collection of
(1443–1496). | Mr. Nils B. Hersloff.

In profile to the right, with features clear-cut and strongly outlined against a light-green background, appears a young Florentine lady, whose dress and bearing proclaim her to be a patrician. She has not been as yet identified; but doubtless she was one of those elegant and gay Florentines whom we meet with in song and story. We are very safe to guess that she was a friend of the Medici and Tornabuoni group and played her part in the brilliant life of the period. Her dress, pink brocade with a floral pattern, is edged with white around the neck. Her hair is fancifully plaited with pale blue ribbons and partly covered with a head-dress of thin white gauze, which falls over the right ear on to her neck; and her hair is also decorated with a jewel set in pearls. According to the fashion of the time, her forehead and the nape of her neck are shaven; for the long line of the neck was considered of the[52] greatest importance. It was also important to hold the head properly; and this young lady has certainly acquired the correct and noble carriage of the head.

An unpublished letter of Berenson exclaims enthusiastically: “This profile portrait of a Young Lady by Piero Pollaiuolo I believe to be one of the most delightful of the series of female profiles which, from Paolo Uccello and Domenico Veneziano down to Botticelli and Amico di Sandro, glorifies the art of Florence during the Fifteenth Century. Few of them have survived to our own time. With the exception of one in the Poldi Collection at Milan, this is the most satisfactory of them all; for besides representing an extraordinarily attractive personality of the highest Florentine society of the time (as, indeed is confirmed by the dress and the jewels), it is a work of art of exquisite draughtsmanship, subtle modelling, and delicate, pure color.”

The painting in tempera is on a panel, 18 × 13 inches, and came from several important Collections,—that of the Conte Isolani Bologna; Baron Lazzaroni, Rome; and the late Mr. William Solomon, New York.

Mr. Berenson notes the fine draughtsmanship in this picture. Unusual drawing is to be expected from the brothers Pollaiuolo. Benvenuto Cellini called Antonio “the best draughtsman of his day in Florence” and tells us that all the goldsmiths worked from his designs; and, as Antonio trained his youngest brother, Piero, we cannot be surprised at the simple, direct, and commanding lines and these telling effects produced by such economical methods.

The real name of the talented brothers was Benci. Their father, Jacopo d’Antonio Benci, was nicknamed by his friends, Pollaiuolo, because his father kept a poulterer shop. Jacopo was a goldsmith and was employed by Lorenzo Ghiberti; and it is said that he made a remarkable quail on one of the Baptistery Gates.

Collection of Mr. Nils B. Hersloff

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG LADY

—Piero Pollaiuolo

Antonio (1432–1498) was apprenticed to Bartoluccio Ghiberti, a goldsmith, and soon achieved fame in Florence as a worker in jewelry and niello. Lorenzo Ghiberti called him to work on the Baptistery “Gates of Paradise” and the Bronze Doors. In 1459 he started to work independently and became renowned as a painter, sculptor, and master goldsmith. His bottega near the Ponte Vecchio was the most popular[54] workshop in Florence; and here he remained until he went to Rome in 1484. Piero Pollaiuolo helped Antonio in his work and was also very versatile. Engravings, drawings, niello, sculpture, and painting, besides a vast amount of gold-work, silver-work, and bronze-work prove these men to be as industrious as they were talented. They also followed Alesso Baldovinetti in trying out new oil glazes and varnishes. In 1460 the Pollaiuoli painted in the Medici Palace, and about the same time executed the six life-sized Virtues for the Tribunal of the Mercatanzia. In 1471 Piero painted a portrait of Galeazzo Sforza, Duke of Milan, who was visiting Florence; and this portrait, which hung for many years in the Medici Palace, is now in the Uffizi. Piero’s fresco of St. Christopher, painted at San Miniato outside the gates, is considered by most authorities to be the same St. Christopher now preserved in the Metropolitan Museum, New York. Piero also painted a very fine Annunciation (now in the Berlin Gallery), which has a view of Florence and the Val d’Arno through the open windows and which is remarkable for its Renaissance architecture; for the profusion of pearls and other jewels adorning the Virgin’s chair and the robes of the Angels; and for three Cherubs playing the lute, viol, and organ.

In 1489 Antonio was called to Rome by Pope Innocent VIII to make the bronze tomb of Sixtus IV, and a monument for himself in St. Peter’s. He was joined by Piero. The Pollaiuoli never saw Florence again; for, on account of the raging Plague, no travellers were allowed to come within twenty miles of Florence. Piero died in 1496 and Antonio in 1498; and at the request of the latter he was buried in the same tomb with Piero in the church of S. Pietro in Vincula.

The Pollaiuoli were closely associated with Botticelli, Leonardo da Vinci, Ghiberti, and Verrocchio.

[55]

#### GIULIANO DE’ MEDICI.

Sandro Botticelli | Collection of
(1444–1510). | Mr. and Mrs. Otto H. Kahn.

This proud, intellectual, refined, and cold face is painted almost in profile; but, notwithstanding that we see only a part of the face, we seem to see it all. Never did painter achieve a more complete presentation of personality and of character. Moreover, Botticelli has painted the whole of Florentine Society in this portrait. And with what amazingly simple means! There is practically no costume,—a black doublet, giving a glimpse of a red tunic below, and a severe white linen band doing duty for a collar. Even the background is neutral!

The simplicity of presentation and the economy of line are almost Japanese in their severity. The skillful handling is almost Oriental, too. Nothing seems to have been done here for effect,—yet what effect is here! There is almost no color; and the hair, too, which falls to the neck, is black. If we did not know that Giuliano de’ Medici was a dashing young Florentine of high mettle and full of the zest of life, we might easily mistake him for a priest.

The picture, painted on wood (21 × 13½ inches), gives us the impression of a life-size portrait. It was formerly in the Collection of Conte Procolo Isolani, in Bologna.

Giuliano de’ Medici was one of the most romantic characters in history; and the tragedy that cut the thread of his life at the age of twenty-five adds no little to the romantic appeal he makes to us to-day. Yet even at this age, he had so perfected himself in all the accomplishments that belonged to a gentleman of the Fifteenth Century that he stands as the very type of the elegant young man of his period. Giuliano was, like his brother, Lorenzo, proficient in the arts, a lover of pictures, music, and poetry; he wrote charming love-songs and other lyrical verse; he was intellectual and witty and talked extremely well; and he was a brilliant jouster and a well-trained all-round athlete and devoted to the chase. For all these things the Florentines admired[56] him; but they loved him for his character, his high-mindedness, and his courtesy. He adored his brother; and Lorenzo, who was far from handsome, had no jealousy for the admiration that his younger brother inspired. The terrible murder of this public idol at High Mass in the Cathedral first shocked and then grieved the entire community. The grief manifested at the great public funeral in the church of the Medici family, San Lorenzo, was violent and sincere, for Giuliano de’ Medici was the beloved of both high and low.

In his book, The Medici, Col. Young writes:

“Giuliano de’ Medici, the youngest of the five children of Piero il Gottoso and Lucrezia Tornabuoni, was, unlike his brother Lorenzo, exceedingly good-looking; he was gifted with considerable abilities, and for his many endearing qualities was greatly beloved, not only in his own family but also by the people of Florence. Before his early death he had already shown on several occasions that he possessed plenty of political capacity and could give valuable advice to his brother.

“The relations which existed between these two brothers is one of the pleasantest things in the history of the Medici. At that epoch jealousy between brothers placed in such a position as Lorenzo and Giuliano were was the normal state of things. That it was entirely absent in their case speaks well for both of them.

“Giuliano was twenty-five at the time of his death. He left an illegitimate son, born just at that time. Lorenzo took the child and brought him up with his own sons; and this child became in the next generation the well-known Giulio de’ Medici, afterwards Clement VIII.”

Alessandro di Mariano Filipepi was born in Florence in 1444, the son of a prosperous tanner who had four sons, the eldest of whom, Giovanni, was called “Bottecello” from the sign of a barrel which hung over his shop, and which name was given to all the other members of the family. Sandro Botticelli, like so many other Florentine painters began life as a goldsmith. Then he was apprenticed to Fra Filippo Lippi, who was, of course, able to hand on to him the old Giottesque tradition. Botticelli next fell under the influence of the Pollaiuoli,[58] with whom he worked. It was not long, however, before the young painter began to exhibit his originality.

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Otto H. Kahn

GIULIANO DE’ MEDICI

—Sandro Botticelli

Soon after returning from Prato, where he had gone to help Fra Filippo Lippi with the frescoes in the Cathedral, he was immediately employed by Piero il Gottoso, who with his wife, Lucrezia Tornabuoni, recognized the genius and peculiar charm of the young painter, and took him into the Casa Medici almost like a son. Botticelli was at this time about twenty-one, only five years older than Lorenzo, the eldest son. Consequently, Botticelli was on the most intimate terms with Lorenzo and Giuliano.

All the pictures of this period except Fortitude were painted for Piero, who bestowed large rewards on the painter. The Madonna of the Magnificat, one of his most beautiful pictures (now in the Uffizi) was painted in 1465 (when Lorenzo and Giuliano were about sixteen and twelve); and it must have been done especially to please Lucrezia Tornabuoni, for her two sons are represented as Angels kneeling before the Madonna and holding the inkstand and the book. Giuliano is the one facing us with the conspicuous lock of hair on his forehead, while Lorenzo, of darker complexion, is in profile and in full light.

The Adoration of the Magi, painted in 1467 for Sta. Maria Novella (now in the Uffizi) is also a Medici family group surrounded by their protégés in art and letters. Cosimo, “Pater Patriæ” (then dead), is kneeling before the Holy Child; Giovanni, brother of Piero il Gottoso (then dead), stands at the left in a red and black costume; Piero il Gottoso is kneeling in the centre with back to the spectator; Giuliano, in a robe of white and gold, is kneeling at the latter’s right and Lorenzo, aged seventeen, stands at his left, holding a sword. The last figure, standing on the right, is Botticelli himself. Botticelli’s portrait of Lucrezia Tornabuoni is in the Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin.

When Lorenzo, destined to become known as the “Magnificent,” became, on the death of his father, head of the Medici and ruler of Florence, he continued the Medici patronage to Botticelli.

“It was a period when the exuberant vitality of the Renaissance was at its height; and the first nine years of his rule, when he was from twenty to twenty-nine and his brother, Giuliano, from sixteen to[59] twenty-five, was a time in Florence of constant festivities of music, art, and poetry, of joy and laughter and all the bright side of life. It was the fashion of the day to import into all amusements an imitation of the Classic times of ancient Greece, and the Florence of that time appears set before us as a city ‘with youth at the prow and pleasure at the helm’ and full of all the life, joy, and pleasure of the old pagan ideal of Greece set in a Fifteenth Century dress. Besides all his duties in regard to State affairs and labors in the founding of institutions to advance Learning, not to mention his own literary work, Lorenzo with his brother led these festivities organizing pageants and other spectacles of the most costly description (permeated with classical learning and poetical allusions) for the popular amusement.”[8]

These entertainments took the form of masques, tableaux, and tournaments. Young Lorenzo, too, gathered at his villa in Fiesole and even more particularly in that of Careggi the literati of the day and read classical authors with these scholars, particularly commemorating once a year the birthday of Plato. In 1469 Lorenzo held a magnificent tournament for his own glorification and in 1475 an even more elaborate one in honor of Giuliano in the Piazza Sta. Croce, with the beautiful Simonetta Cattaneo, who had lately been married at the age of sixteen, to Marco Vespucci, as the Queen of Beauty. Giuliano, now just twenty-two, wore a suit of silver armor and Verrocchio designed his helmet, and Lorenzo’s also.

Botticelli, of course, witnessed this tournament and did for it in painting what Politian did in his poem, La Giostra di Giuliano de’ Medici. The Primavera or Return of Spring (now in the Accademia, Florence), the Birth of Venus (in the Uffizi) and Mars and Venus (in the National Gallery, London), were all three painted for Lorenzo. All the elaborate imagery of Politian’s verse is reproduced in Botticelli’s painting representing the Birth of Venus in allusion to the Queen of Beauty, Simonetta, of Giuliano’s Tournament. In the second picture, Mars and Venus, Botticelli again follows Politian’s poem.

“And then having devoted one picture to the tournament’s Queen[60] of Beauty, and one to the victor in its mimic warfare, Botticelli makes his third picture (the most important of the three) relate to Lorenzo and his part in all this, gathering up in one view the whole subject of these pastimes. This Botticelli does with great talent and in a manner all his own. He takes for his text the celebrated standard which had been borne in front of Lorenzo at both his and Giuliano’s tournaments, with its motto of Le temps revient, its device of the bay-tree, which had appeared dead, again putting forth its leaves, and its allusion to the new era of youth and joy which Lorenzo had inaugurated, and had likened to the Return of Spring after the gloomy months of winter. Making the leading thought of his picture the theme on Lorenzo’s standard, Botticelli paints for him the Return of Spring (the Primavera), perhaps the most widely admired of all Botticelli’s pictures.

“And so Botticelli depicts for us a scene of light-hearted, youthful joy, representing the return of spring, and by his great talent contrives that the entire picture shall speak of Lorenzo and breathe the very spirit of the poems in which the latter had sung of the joys of May-time in Tuscany. Shielded from rough winds and scorching sun by a grove of orange trees, backed by the ever-present laurel (always representing Lorenzo from the play on the Latin form of his name, Laurentinus), Queen Venus (Simonetta) stands presiding over the return of spring to Tuscany; the Graces dance before her; from out a laurel grove at her side the three spring months, March, April and May (or it may be Zephyr, Fertility and Flora), come bringing flowers of every hue; Mercury (Giuliano) scatters the clouds of winter; and the little blind God of Love aims his arrows recklessly around.

“These pictures relating to Giuliano’s tournament could not have been painted until some time afterwards, as in any case they could not have been so until Politian’s poem had appeared; and they may have been executed at any time during Lorenzo’s life. If painted, as is most probable, subsequently to Giuliano’s death in 1578, they would remind Lorenzo of a time of bygone joys; and would be all the more prized by him on that account.”[9]

A few months after Giuliano’s grand tournament the beautiful[61] Simonetta was lying dead and three years later Giuliano was foully murdered, victim of the Pazzi conspiracy.

In 1481 Botticelli was sent for by Pope Sixtus to assist Perugino and Ghirlandaio in painting frescoes in the newly erected Sistine Chapel; and when this work was completed Botticelli returned to Florence with an added lustre to his name. It was the fashionable thing for wealthy owners of villas to have frescoes painted in these country-houses; and among many orders that Botticelli filled was an important series of frescoes for Lorenzo Tornabuoni in the villa of the Tornabuoni family (now Villa Lemmi) at Rifredi representing scenes in reference to the marriage of Lorenzo Tornabuoni and Giovanna degli Albizzi in 1486 (see page 68). These frescoes, recently discovered under whitewash, are now in the Louvre.

The death of Lorenzo the Magnificent, the banishment of the Medici, and the rule of Savonarola changed Botticelli’s life and his style of painting. In this third period the painter of nymphs and goddesses paints his charming and wistful Madonnas with many suggestions of Venus and Simonetta and the grace and loveliness of the pagan world.

To the last period, when Botticelli had emerged from the Savonarola influence, the great painter produced Calumny (in the Uffizi) and the Nativity (in the National Gallery, London); and with these two works the career of Botticelli ends.

The theory that the Birth of Venus, Mars and Venus and the Primavera were painted for Lorenzo di Pier Francesco has been thoroughly examined and disproved by Col. G. F. Young in his splendid history of The Medici.

[62]

#### PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAN.

Sandro Botticelli | Collection of
(1444–1510). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

Standing behind a balustrade and looking wistfully toward the observer, this handsome young Florentine appears at half-length with his head inclined towards the left.

How we should like to penetrate his secret and help him away from the melancholy mood that has overwhelmed him!

Although we see that he is a dreamer (and most probably a lute-player as his hands might seem to indicate), something has touched him very deeply—far too deeply to be classed as a momentary sorrow. We should also like to know his identity. It is unlikely that it will ever be revealed. But of one thing we can be well assured,—he is an aristocrat and a young gentleman of wealth, for he has all the air of savoir faire and sureness of his position. We might make a guess that he is one of the Medici family. Could it be Giuliano? Look again at the Madonna of the Magnificat, at Giuliano immediately below the bending Angel! The resemblance is quite surprising and grows stronger as we study the two faces, only in the Madonna of the Magnificat Giuliano is younger and is seen with the characteristic lock on his forehead.

His costume in this portrait shows up well from the black background: the coat is purplish brown edged with fur with white puffs at the shoulders; and a red cap contrasts well with his light-yellow hair.

This picture, a tempera painting on panel (15¾ × 11¾), was long in the Collection of Baron Arthur de Schickler in Martinvast, Normandy, where it was attributed to Masaccio.

“There can be no question,” Berenson thinks, “that this portrait is Botticelli’s own handiwork. The glamor it cast when I first saw it frightened me into doubts that were dispelled directly I could study the painting at my leisure. There is no one, using this formula and technique, but Sandro himself who has the sinuous line, the inevitable contours, the structural articulation, the firmness, convincingness, and[64] delicacy of modelling this work possesses; nobody else who could produce a rhythm so subtly vibrant, or could give this limpid, radiant, and ethereal coloring.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAN

—Sandro Botticelli

“True, it is more Botticellian than any other Botticelli in existence. He must have uttered this completest note of his own music just before he was seized by the Savonarolian madness, from which he never recovered, just at the moment when he was most peculiarly and poignantly, and, if I may say so, most extravagantly, himself. The isolation of this head, too, exaggerates the impression. Perhaps if we found it as an Angel in a Magnificat, or a Madonna with the Pomegranate, in a Tobias or some Allegory, the other figures, the landscape and all the accessories would prevent our attention from concentrating on what is almost uncannily characteristic of the master’s style.”

Berenson also notes the important hand, which, by the way, is especially lighted as if to draw our attention to it most particularly.

“Perhaps the most interesting thing about this portrait,” he observes, “is the manifest competition of the hand with the face. The hand is studied just as carefully, drawn, and modelled with as much intention, as the face itself. Its action reveals the automatic nervous tension of an overstrung physique that the conscious mind, controlling the expression, tries to keep in order. It thus becomes, in a sense, the most important clue to understanding the character. If you think it away, the expression, of course, remains, but what makes it comprehensible disappears.”

It is this peculiar intelligence and sensitiveness of the hand that makes me suspect the musician.

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Sandro Botticelli | Collection of
(1444–1510). | Mr. Max Epstein.

This picture is the latest Botticelli to have been brought to this country for it arrived only in May, 1928. It was painted in Botticelli’s early period, about 1470 or 1472. The Holy Child is handsome, although robust, and His embrace of the Madonna is touchingly[66] affectionate and human. In this picture the Madonna would seem to have had a vision of the coming tragedy and she is not yet resigned. She loves her Child too well. That her eyes are full of tears we can feel in those heavily drooping lids. Her face is full of pain. But even in her suffering and quiet anguish this Madonna is beautiful and graceful; and we cannot fail to see in her face some little resemblance to Botticelli’s Venus in the Primavera and Venus in her scallop-shell borne over the waves in the early morning in the Birth of Venus.

Collection of Mr. Max Epstein

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Sandro Botticelli

In this picture the Holy Child seems to have little or no consciousness of His Divinity. The Mother here is the enlightened one.

The picture is tempera on panel (35¾ × 23¼ inches) and came into possession of M. Féral in Paris in 1907. It has been accepted by Bode and Jashiro as a genuine and an early Botticelli.

The Madonna’s robe is deep blue with a lining of dull green, which shows at the left wrist and slightly down the front and on the left shoulder a star is embroidered. She wears a closely folded diaphanous veil and a red scarf, one end of which is gracefully thrown around the Holy Child. The sleeve of the dress has a band of golden embroidery at the wrist.

The cruciform nimbus of the Holy Child foretells His destiny. The nimbus of the Virgin is plain. The Angel wears a tunic of deep cream white ornamented with gold on the sleeves and a black band ornamented with gold at the throat. On the parapet stands a vase apparently of alabaster containing myrtle leaves and white star-shaped flowers, probably jasmine (see page 25). Through the open arch we see a gentle landscape, with a river winding around distant hills.

#### GIOVANNA TORNABUONI.

Domenico Ghirlandaio | (1449–1494).
Collection of | Mr. J. P. Morgan.

With this picture, which is considered “one of the finest Italian portraits in existence,” we step back into the period of the Renaissance and into the very presence of one of the most gifted and celebrated of the younger women of the Fifteenth Century.

[67]

Collection of Mr. J. P. Morgan

GIOVANNA TORNABUONI

—Domenico Ghirlandaio

[68]

“Art coulds’t thou but portray character and the mind, then there would be no picture in the whole world more beautiful than this.”

Such is the translation of the legend inscribed in capital letters on the cartel:

“Ars ultinam mores animumque effingere posses
Pulchrior in terris nulla tabella foret”

with the date MCCCCLXXXVIII.

The charms of Giovanna degli Albizzi, who was married to Lorenzo Tornabuoni in 1486, were sung by all the poets of Florence. Giovanna came of the noted Albizzi family, famous for wealth and rank and for leading the party of Nobles (Grandi) against the Medici, whom they considered upstarts and enemies of the aristocratic faction in Florence. By a former marriage, however, the Albizzi had become connected with the Medici, for the wife of Piero de’ Medici (il Gottoso) was Lucrezia Tornabuoni, one of the most accomplished women of the age and whose portrait by Botticelli hangs to-day in the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin. Giovanna’s husband, Lorenzo Tornabuoni (Lucrezia Tornabuoni’s nephew), was, therefore, the first cousin of Lorenzo and Giuliano de’ Medici.

Subsequent to the ownership by the Tornabuoni and Pandolfini families, the portrait represented here passed to a private Collection in Paris and thence to the late Mr. Henry Willett of Brighton, England; to the famous Collection of Mr. Rodolphe Kann of Paris and, finally, to that of Mr. J. P. Morgan.

The picture is painted on a wooden panel (29¾ × 19½ inches).

Standing in profile to the left and against an architectural background, the lady appears at half-length. She wears a rich dress of gold brocade of a handsome and decorative pattern with square neck, the sleeves of a different material, dark-red in color and having yellow diamond-shaped compartments bearing a floral design in the centre. A handsome pendant, consisting of a ruby with three pearls, hangs from a fine black silk cord around her neck. Her hair falls in light, wavy tresses over her temples and covers her ears. In the recess at the back is placed a cluster of precious stones. On the right is a Book of Hours, and above is looped a necklace of coral beads. All of these things[69] undoubtedly have some particular and sentimental association for Giovanna. Giovanna died the same year this portrait was painted; in this year her father-in-law, Giovanni Tornabuoni, also uncle of Lorenzo de’ Medici, commissioned Ghirlandaio to decorate the walls of the choir of Sta. Maria Novella with the Lives of John the Baptist and the Virgin; and here again the portrait of Giovanna degli Albizzi appears. Let us turn to Mrs. Cartwright for a description of this remarkable series of frescoes:

“These twenty-one subjects have been much injured by damp and restoration and the hand of inferior assistants is plainly seen in many of the best preserved portions. But as a splendid illustration of Florentine life the whole series is of rare interest. On the one hand we have the public and official life of the Tornabuoni, their stately banquets and processions; on the other, we catch a glimpse of their private and domestic history. In the guests seated at Herod’s Feast, in the crowds who throng the temple court, we recognize the Tornabuoni and their kinsmen, the partners of the Medici bank, Gianfrancesco Ridolfi, Roderigo Sassetti, and Andrea de’ Medici. On one side we have a group of famous humanists—Angelo Poliziano, Marsilio Ficino, Cristoforo Landino, and Lorenzo’s tutor, Gentile de’ Becchi; on the other, we see the painter with his aged father and his brother, David, and brother-in-law, Sebastiano Mainardi, the assistants who helped in the decoration of the choir. Giovanna degli Albizzi, the fair maiden who on the 16th of June, 1486, became the bride of Lorenzo Tornabuoni, is here in her stiff brocades and rich jewels with her young sister-in-law, Lodovica, and many noble dames on their way to visit the mother and new-born babe. These frescoes, which were finally completed in 1490, filled the Tornabuoni family with delight and wonder, and Ghirlandaio was next employed to paint the chapel of their villa near Fiesole, which was unfortunately destroyed by floods in the next century.”

As in the case of so many Italian painters, the name by which Ghirlandaio is known is only a nickname: it means “Garland-maker,” and was given to him because his first reputation was derived from the beautiful gold and silver garlands and wreaths he made for the wealthy ladies of fashion. Ghirlandaio, son of Tommaso Bigordi, a silk merchant[70] of Florence, was born in that city in 1449. He began his life as apprentice to a goldsmith—as so many superlative painters have done—and early showed talent for drawing and sketching. Before long he left the goldsmith and entered the studio of Alesso Baldovinetti (see page 48); and he undoubtedly owed much to this painter in his fondness for decorative effects. Ghirlandaio was tremendously industrious and always worked with the best artists of his time. At San Gimigniano in 1475 he worked with Pier Francesco Fiorentino and he assisted Botticelli in the Sistine Chapel in 1481. His own independent work was stupendous. Ghirlandaio devoted himself almost exclusively to sacred subjects and his frescoes are practically scenes of the Florentine world he knew so well. Whether he painted scenes from the life of St. Francis, or of the Virgin, or Herod, or St. Zenobius, the characters represented are members of the Medici, the Tornabuoni, the Sassetti, the Albizzi, and other important Florentine families. In fact, his attention to details and the careful way he rendered them, show that he had some knowledge of contemporary Flemish paintings; and consequently Ghirlandaio is regarded as chief of the Florentine realists. However, Ghirlandaio ranked in his day with Botticelli and Filippino Lippi, and he enjoyed the patronage and friendship of the Medici. Ghirlandaio’s most important frescoes are those in Sta. Maria Novella representing Lives of the Virgin and John the Baptist, commissioned by Giovanni Tornabuoni, described above, and those in Santa Trinità depicting the Life of St. Francis, ordered by Francesco Sassetti described on page 72.

Ghirlandaio died in 1494 of the Plague, comparatively young, but having accomplished a vast amount of work and having trained a number of painters, the most important of whom was Michelangelo. Ghirlandaio’s son, Ridolfo Ghirlandaio (1483–1561), became a painter and was an intimate friend of Raphael.

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#### FRANCESCO SASSETTI AND HIS SON TEODORO.

Domenico Ghirlandaio | Collection of
(1449–1494). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

Francesco Sassetti, a wealthy banker and Lorenzo de’ Medici’s agent at Lyons, is shown here slightly under life-size, wearing a purple skull cap and a red robe lined with fur and held at the waist by a black cord, from which hangs a pouch, or purse. His right hand rests upon the arm of the chair in which he is seated. His eyes look downward upon his son, who stands at his left, in profile, gazing upward into his father’s face. His hands are clasped and he is wearing a costume of silvery grey brocade trimmed with white fur, undersleeves of dark-green and slashed, and a scarlet cap. Through the window we have an interesting view of an inlet of the sea (or a large river) with mountains and buildings. On the top of the window-frame there is an inscription: “Franciscos Saxettvs Theodorus QVE.” The picture is an oil painting on panel (29½ × 20½ inches) and is supposed to have been executed in 1487–1489. Francesco Sassetti was born about 1420 and died in 1491. Teodoro was born on March 11, 1479, and is seen here at about the age of eight or nine, which fixes the date of the picture. It is interesting to note that Teodoro Sassetti was the grandfather of Filippo Sassetti, an early traveller in India (see Marencci, Lettere di Filippo Sassetta, Firenze, 1855).

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

FRANCESCO SASSETTI AND HIS SON TEODORO

—Domenico Ghirlandaio

This picture comes from the Benson Collection and was formerly owned by Mr. William Graham. Francesco Sassetti also appears in the frescoes depicting the Life of St. Francis, which Ghirlandaio painted in the Sassetti Chapel in the Trinità in Florence. Ghirlandaio introduced into this series other members of the Sassetti family, as well as many of his illustrious contemporaries and friends, including Lorenzo de’ Medici, Pope Honorius, Maso degli Albizzi, Palla Strozzi, and Angelo Acciaiuoli. In the fifth fresco, where St. Francis is bringing a dead child to life, Ghirlandaio has painted his own portrait. He is conspicuous in a red cap and resting his hand upon his hip.

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### THE UMBRIAN SCHOOL

The Umbrian School occupied the relative place in the Early Renaissance that the Sienese School held in the Middle Ages. At first, Umbrian painting was the offspring of Siena, but it fell under and developed under the influence of Florence. Florentine artists came to Umbria and Umbrian artists went to Florence, and gradually the Umbrian School, which had certain qualities of its own, developed and reached full flower in the beloved of all the world,—Raphael.

The word Umbrian is used rather loosely by critics to include many Tuscan painters who have to be gathered into this group, which dates from the end of the Fourteenth and beginning of the Fifteenth Century. One particular quality of the Umbrians was their essentially deep religious feeling.

“Whereas the devotion of Sienese art had been hieratic, aristocratic, and akin to the ideals of Mediæval Byzantium, that of Umbria became ecstatically human. The Renaissance trend towards bringing to earth the regal Christian gods of the Middle Ages was nowhere so strong as in Umbria; and it is not an exaggeration to say that we owe to the Umbrians our modern visual images of the Eternal, the Madonna, and the other important members of the Christian Pantheon. The piety and humility of the figures was deepened and dignified by a specially emphasized space-composition, both architectural and landscape. Landscape backgrounds were given unusual importance and delicate beauty. The Umbrian School thus became the most charming, the tenderest, and the most intimately human of Renaissance Italy.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

The first great Umbrian painter was Gentile da Fabriano (1370?–1427), pupil of an earlier Umbrian painter, Allegretto Nuzi (active from 1346 to 1373), in turn a pupil of the Florentine Bernardo Daddi.

[74]

The next important Umbrian was Piero della Francesca or Pier dei Franceschi (1416?–1492), pupil of Domenico Veneziano of Florence, important in his own work and important as a master, forming Luca Signorelli, who in turn influenced Michelangelo. Piero della Francesca was also influenced by the Florentine, Paolo Uccello, whose scientific leanings towards perspective he shared. As a colorist, as a painter of light and atmosphere, and as a master of composition, Piero della Francesca ranks with the greatest Italian masters of the Early Renaissance.

By this time Perugia had become the most important centre of painting in Umbria. Among its conspicuous artists was Benedetto Bonfigli (1425–1496); Fiorenzo di Lorenzo (1440–1521), the supposed master of Perugino and Pintoricchio; Perugino, whose real name was Pietro Vannucci (1446–1523); Bernard Pintoricchio “the little painter” (1454–1513), whose real name was Bernard di Betto, or Biagio; and the great Raphael (1483–1520), son of the painter Giovanni Santi of Urbino; and with this painter of the world’s favorite Madonnas the Umbrian School practically ends.

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Gentile da Fabriano | (1370–1427).
Collection of | Mr. Henry Goldman.

No little suggestion of the Giotto Madonna (shown on page 27), appears in the Madonna and Child by Gentile da Fabriano, which, according to Colosanti, was painted in the best period of the artist, shortly before he produced the Adoration of the Kings, now in the Uffizi. In comparing it with the Giotto Madonna, we see that the arch has become slightly more pointed than the one in the Giotto picture and we find also a gold background; but in the Fabriano painting a graffito design of two winged Angels with flowing robes on either side is slightly visible. As in the Giotto picture the two nimbi are different; the Virgin’s nimbus having an Arabic inscription and the nimbus of the Holy Child having a Gothic foliage. The Virgin is seated on a cassone, or chest (a not unusual but hardly very comfortable[76] seat in the Fourteenth Century), covered with a dark-brown cloth with floral figure behind which a tiled floor is seen. The Virgin wears a long tunic of claret-colored damask with gold border, on which appears the motto “Ave Maria Plena Dom—— Tecu—— Ben.” On the border around the neck the word “Mater” appears. The mantle is slit at the sides through which the arm protrudes in a long sleeve of rich gold brocade with the pomegranate pattern. A scarf of thin yellow woollen material, decorated with red and blue flowers and red fringe, is worn around her head and neck. The Holy Child has on a little dress, very neatly made and fitting very snugly, of dark-blue trimmed with a border of red and gold. He is standing with His left foot on His mother’s knee and is stepping forward with the other. He has raised His right hand as if to emphasize the words He is speaking and to which His mother is listening with rapt admiration. This movement of the Child takes something away from the solemnity of the picture and the Virgin’s maternal pride shows her to be more of this earth than the Giotto Madonna whose calm, impassive yet tender beauty, proclaims her to belong to a higher sphere than does the Fabriano.

Collection of Mr. Henry Goldman

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Gentile da Fabriano

The picture, tempera on panel (38 × 22½ inches), belonged to the Alexander Baker Collection, London, and to the Collection of Madame E. J. Sartoris, Paris.

Gentile da Fabriano’s full name was Gentile di Nicola di Giovanni di Masso and he was born at Fabriano about 1370. He was a pupil of Allegretto Nuzi and possibly of Ottaviano Nelli. Vasari says, too, that he studied under Fra Angelico. He worked in Fabriano, Brescia, and Venice; and in 1422 he became a member of the Guild in Florence. Later he painted in Orvieto, Siena, and Rome, where Pope Martin V called him to paint in San Giovanni Laterano. Subsequently Gentile painted in Venice, Florence and other places, learning all that was new from other painters he met and everywhere attracting followers; but never forgetting his early Sienese inheritance in his love for beauty and for decoration.

Gentile da Fabriano became so much of a traveller and cosmopolitan that he has to be classed as an “Internationalist” as well as a Sienese painter. Gentile had a marvellous talent for presenting brilliant and[77] beautiful pictures of the courtly life he saw around him and which was fast passing away for the styles and fashions of the approaching Renaissance. His Adoration of the Magi, now in the Accademia delle Belle Arti, Florence, is a gorgeous representation of a procession such as the painter had doubtless many times witnessed. It is while thinking of this brilliant Adoration of the Magi that Berenson exclaims: “Fair knights and lovely ladies, spurs of gold, jewelled brocade, crimson damasks, gorgeous trains on regal steeds ride under golden skies wherein bright suns flatter charmed mountain tops. All the faces are aglow with blitheness. Why are they so happy? Have they waked from nightmare hauntings of Purgatory and Hell? So it would seem; and they rejoice in the blood tickling their veins, in the cool breezes, in the smell of flowers. And what a love of flowers! Gentile fills with them even the nooks and crannies of the woodwork enframing his gorgeous Epiphany.”

Gentile died in 1427,—the one great Umbrian of the Middle Ages.

Michelangelo remarked of Gentile that his name was in perfect harmony with the tone of his works.

#### MADONNA AND CHILD WITH ANGELS.

Benedetto Bonfigli | Collection of
(1425–1496). | Mr. and Mrs. Otto H. Kahn.

We have here a very unusual background, reminding us of the Arabian desert,—tall, barren rocks; and against these the Virgin is seated. Her costume is very lovely, consisting of a red tunic cut square across the neck and finished with a broad band of gold embroidery, and a blue mantle lined with yellow. Over her blonde hair, which is arranged in the style favored by Italian ladies of fashion, waved and parted and falling down at the sides of the cheeks, a white veil is folded in intricate plaits and made to ripple gracefully down over the shoulders. Above this complicated head-dress is a golden nimbus. The Holy Child, resting on her lap, steadied by the Virgin’s hand and additionally supported by the graceful hand of the little Angel, is partly swathed in muslin. One of His little hands rests on His mother’s veil and the[78] other reaches for a pomegranate,[10] which she is holding. The dress of the Angel is red bordered with ermine and the bottom of the tunic is edged with a deep gold band of Cufic lettering. The nimbi are tooled in gold and that of the Holy Child is cruciform. The strong wings of the Angels soar up boldly above their heads and make a perfect balance to the rocks behind the Virgin.

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Otto H. Kahn

MADONNA AND CHILD WITH ANGELS

—Benedetto Bonfigli

The picture is tempera on wood (31½ × 21 inches).

Bonfigli is regarded as the founder of the School of Perugia which became so famous through Perugino, who perpetuates the name of the town.

Little is known of Benedetto Bonfigli, who was born about 1425, in Perugia, and was buried there in the Church of St. Domenico in 1496. Bonfigli shows in his work the influences of Piero della Francesca, Fra Angelico, Camillo Boccatis, and Benozzo Gozzoli. Bonfigli was in Rome in 1453 working for Pope Nicholas V, and in the following year he was back in Perugia painting a series of frescoes for the Capella dei Priori in the Palazzo del Consiglio depicting St. Louis of Toulouse and St. Ercolano, which were unfinished at the time of his death. Bonfigli painted processional banners and small pictures as well as frescoes. Many of Bonfigli’s works are now in the Gallery at Perugia.

“As an artist Bonfigli scarcely ranks as high as Niccolò da Foligno, his fellow-pupil under Benozzo Gozzoli. He was a much more dependent person, but being more imitative, with the models of Fra Angelico or Benozzo before him, he at times painted exquisite things and by nature he was gifted with that sense of the charming wherewith Perugia was later to take the world captive. Some of the freshest and loveliest of all angel faces may be seen in Bonfigli’s altar-pieces and standards. His color has almost always that tint of gold which never fades from Umbrian art.”[11]

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#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Perugino | (1446–1523).
Collection of | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

In red robe and blue mantle the Virgin appears seated three quarters to the left and supporting the Holy Child on her left knee with both hands. Her head is slightly inclined and the hair, parted above her forehead, is brushed plainly down either side and looped up rather curiously at the back and tied there by a narrow veil. The Holy Child looks away towards the left. Behind the figures is seen one of those delightful Umbrian landscapes made so famous by Perugino and Raphael.

This picture, an oil painting on panel (27¾ × 19½ inches), has an interesting pedigree. From the family of the Marquis of Villafranca it came into possession of the Marquis de la Romana from the Palace of Anglona, Madrid, and then belonged to the Collection of the Marquis de Villamajor, Madrid. The wife of the latter says:

“This painting of the Madonna and Child by Perugino has been for many generations in my husband’s family. It comes from the family of the Marquises de Villafranca who lived in Italy in the Sixteenth Century and of which several members were Viceroys of Naples (Alvarez de Toledo). The Marquis of Romana, having acquired the Palace of the Prince d’Anglona in Madrid, assembled all the pictures and works of art inherited from his ancestors which were in the Palaces of Valencia, Palma de Mallorque, and in Italy, thus forming a fine and important Collection in which were paintings by Goya, Cameron, Ribera, Velasquez, and many paintings of the Italian, Flemish, and French Schools. On the death of the Marquis de la Romana, his son, the Marquis de Villamajor, received a part of this Collection (which was divided between him and his brothers), and this Perugino comes from the Marquis de Villamajor’s heritage.”

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Perugino

Perugino was born at Città della Pieve, near Perugia, about 1446, and died (probably of the Plague), at Castello di Fontignano, also near Perugia, in 1523. His real name was Pietro Vannucci and he was also[82] called Pier della Pieve; but he is known always and everywhere as Perugino from Perugia, where he spent his early life and learned his art. It is uncertain under whom he studied before he went to Florence, but he certainly assisted Piero della Francesca at Arezzo. At Florence, he worked in Verrocchio’s studio, having Leonardo da Vinci and Lorenzo di Credi for fellow-students. Then in 1475 he was commissioned to paint in the Palazzo Pubblico, Perugia. In 1481–1482 he was working in Rome in the Sistine Chapel with Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Cosimo Rosselli, and Signorelli. Of his four frescoes here only one remains, Delivery of the Keys to St. Peter; the other three were destroyed to make room for Michelangelo’s Last Judgment. Perugino also painted in the Vatican and remained about ten years in Rome. Then he returned to Florence and had a studio there and also in Perugia. Besides, he travelled about a great deal to execute commissions in various cities. In 1490, for instance, he was in Rome again painting for Cardinal della Rovere an altar-piece now in the Villa Albani; in 1494 he was in Venice and Cremona; and in 1496 in Pavia, working for “Il Moro,” Duke of Milan. The three principal pictures of the beautiful altar-piece that Perugino painted for the Certosa, or Carthusian Convent near Pavia—The Virgin adoring the Infant Christ; Tobias and the Angel Raphael; and the Archangel Michael—are now in the National Gallery, London.

In 1495 Perugino was again working in Perugia; and it was then that Raphael, a boy of about twelve, became his pupil. At this time Perugino was the most celebrated of all the Umbrian painters. His best work was accomplished between 1490 and 1505. To this period belongs The Marriage of the Virgin, now in the Museum of Caen, Normandy, a picture that Raphael very closely followed, but eclipsed in beauty, in his Sposalizio, now in the Brera, Milan.

About 1590 Perugino painted his famous frescoes in the Sala di Cambio, Perugia, in which he introduced his own portrait; and in 1505 he painted The Triumph of Chastity for the Marchese Isabella of Mantua, which is now in the Louvre.

After another visit to Rome he worked principally in churches in the neighborhood of Perugia, the last of which is supposed to be The[83] Nativity, painted for the Church of Fontignano (where he died), and which is now in the South Kensington Museum.

Perugino was one of the earliest of the Italians who mastered the use of oil, then a new medium. In his constant moving around and visiting so many important cities, Perugino had every opportunity of seeing what the other artists of his day were doing. However, although he worked with the latest materials, Perugino remained faithful to the style of art known as the Quattrocento, which before his death was being rapidly superseded by the Cinquecento, of which Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo were the chief exponents. Like Piero della Francesca he also advanced the science of perspective. For a time Perugino adopted the Florentine style, especially with regard to composition; but eventually he developed his own manner of grace, softness, delicacy, tenderness of color, great expression in faces and figures, and his unusually charming landscapes.

Berenson speaks particularly of Perugino’s “space composition:”[12] and in this art “Perugino surpassed all who ever came before him, and indeed all who came after him, excepting, however, his own pupil, Raphael, by whom even he was left far behind. Perugino had a feeling for beauty in women, charm in young men, and dignity in the old, seldom surpassed before or since. Then there is a well-ordered seemliness, a sanctuary aloofness in all his people which makes them things apart, untouched, and pure. Great reserve also does much for him. Violent action he doubtless avoided because he felt himself unequal to the task—indeed, so little did he ever master movement that his figures when walking dance on tiptoe and on their feet they never stand; but he as carefully kept away from unseemly expression of emotion.[84] How refreshingly quiet are his Crucifixions and Entombments! The still air is soundless and the people wail no more; a sigh inaudible, a look of yearning, and that is all. How soothing must such paintings have been after the din and turmoil and slaughter of Perugia, the bloodiest town in Italy! Can it be wondered that men, women, and children ran to see them? Nor yet is life so free from sordid cares and meaningless broils that we can forego such balm for the soul as Perugino brings.”

#### THE NICCOLINI MADONNA.

Raphael | Collection of
(1483–1520). | Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

This picture came directly from the Niccolini Palace where it was purchased in 1780 by George Nassau, third Earl Cowper, who was at that time His Majesty’s Ambassador to the Court of Tuscany; and it was so prized that in order to get the picture out of Florence without any disturbance it had to be hidden in the lining of the Ambassador’s carriage. Another name for the picture is The Cowper Madonna of 1508. The picture now comes from the Collection of Lady Desborough, of Panshanger, Hertfordshire, who inherited it from her brother, Francis Thomas, seventh Earl Cowper.

The painting, an oil on panel (30½ × 22 inches), represents the Madonna seated in the open air in a dark, rose-red robe with long close-fitting undersleeves of yellow-green, ultramarine-blue mantle, and diaphanous veil. Around the neck of the dress and the hem of the mantle what appears to be a decorative band of golden embroidery is really the signature of the painter “M(D or CCCC)VIII. R. U. Pin,” meaning 1508 Raphael of Urbino Pinxit. And, by the way, is it not possible that Sir Joshua Reynolds got the idea from this picture of painting his name on the robe of Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse? It will be remembered that Mrs. Siddons sat for that magnificent portrait in 1784. The Niccolini Madonna was bought by Earl Cowper in 1780 and, undoubtedly, Sir Joshua was very familiar with it. Moreover, at this date, Raphael’s masterpiece was also very fresh in the mind of the English picture-world.

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Collection of Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

THE NICCOLINI MADONNA

—Raphael

[86]

The Holy Child is seated on a white cushion in the Virgin’s lap gently supported by her hand, which also lightly holds an end of her floating veil. The suggestion of a light breeze rippling the veil is an exquisite thought. The nimbi of both Mother and Child are very delicate. The background consists of a blue sky.

It is very interesting to compare this picture with the other Cowper Madonna and on doing so we find that the same model was used for the Child, although the women are different. The hand of the Small Cowper Madonna is noticeably more refined than the hand in the Niccolini Madonna, yet, on the whole, the model used for the Niccolini Madonna seems to be of a slightly higher social status. In the latter, we find the plucked eyebrows and forehead which Raphael’s taste has softened by the hair, lightly blown about, like the veil, by the breeze.

The Niccolini Madonna was one of the last pictures painted by Raphael in Florence, as he went to Rome in 1508, the date given on this painting. It may be noted here that the Madonna del Granduca (which belonged to the Grand Duke Ferdinand III, who carried it with him wherever he went), was the first picture Raphael painted in Florence.

The Madonna del Cardellino (of the Goldfinch), in the Uffizi, and La Belle Jardinière (in the Louvre), also date from the Florentine period—painted when Raphael was about twenty-five,—which seems almost incredible.

#### THE SMALL COWPER MADONNA.

Raphael | Collection of
(1483–1520). | Mr. Joseph E. Widener.

This Madonna was painted in 1505, soon after the Granduca Madonna (now in the Pitti). It was purchased in Florence about 1780 by Lord Cowper and was one of the ornaments of his Collection at Panshanger.

Collection of Mr. Joseph E. Widener

THE SMALL COWPER MADONNA

—Raphael

The Madonna is seated on a stone bench and wears a red dress and a mantle of blue lined with green. The Holy Child throws His arms[88] lovingly around His mother’s neck and steadies Himself by planting His left foot against her right hand. The hair of both mother and Child are blonde and encircled by a thin golden nimbus. The eyes are, in both subjects, of a warm and deep brown. A lovely Umbrian landscape carries us many miles away to the left; and nearer the figures on the right, there appears a building, identified as San Bernardino, a Franciscan Convent near Urbino.

The picture is painted on wood (23 × 17 inches). The original drawing is in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence.

“And now we are face to face with the most famous and beloved name in modern art—Raphael Sanzio. Raphael was endowed with a visual imagination, which has never even been rivalled for range, sweep, and sanity. When it has been surpassed, it has been at single points and by artists of more concentrated genius. Thus gifted and coming at a time when form had, for its own sake, been recovered by the Naturalists and the essential artists, when the visual imagery, of at least the Italian world, had already suffered along certain lines, the transformation from the Mediæval into what ever since has been for all of us the modern, when the ideals of the Renaissance were for an ineffable instant standing complete, Raphael, filtering and rendering lucid and pure all that had passed through him to make him what he was, set himself the task of dowering the modern world with the images that to this day, despite the turbulent rebellion and morose secession of recent years, embody for the great number of cultivated men their spiritual ideals and their spiritual aspirations. ‘Belle comme une madonne de Raphael’ is, among the most artistic people in Europe, still the highest praise that can be given to female beauty. And, in sooth, where shall one find greater purity, more utter loveliness than in the Granduca Madonna, or a sublimer apparition of woman than appeared to St. Sixtus?

“When looking at the Granduca Madonna, has it ever occurred to you to note that the whole of her figure was not there? So perfect is the arrangement that the attention is entirely absorbed by the grouping of the heads, the balance of the Virgin’s draped arm and the Child’s body. You are not allowed to ask yourself how the figure ends. And[89] observe how it holds its own, easily poised, in the panel which is just large enough to contain it without crowding, without suggesting room for aught besides.

“But great as is the pleasure in a single group perfectly filling a mere panel, it is far greater when a group dominates a landscape. Raphael tried several times to obtain this effect—as in the Madonna del Cardellino, or the Madonna del Prato, but he attained to supreme success once only—in the Belle Jardinière. Here you have the full negation of the plein-air treatment of the figure. The Madonna is under a domed sky, and she fills it completely, as subtly as in the Granduca panel, but here it is the whole out-of-doors, the universe, and a human being supereminent over it. What a scale is suggested! Surely the spiritual relation between man and his environment is here given in the only way man—unless he becomes barbarized by decay or non-humanized by science—will ever feel it. And not what man knows but what man feels, concerns art. All else is science.”

Raphael Santi—everybody’s Raphael,—best beloved of all painters, was born in Urbino in 1483, the day unknown. He was the son of Giovanni Santi, a painter, and was first taught by him. Then it is supposed that he studied under Evangelista di Pian di Meleto, with whom he painted an altar-piece and worked afterwards with Evangelista’s partner, Timoteo Viti. Next we find him assisting Perugino at Perugia and also Pintoricchio. In 1504 he went to Florence and fell under the influence of Leonardo da Vinci and Fra Bartolommeo. During his four years in Florence, Raphael painted a number of important works including the Terranuova Madonna (Berlin Museum); the Small Cowper Madonna and the Niccolini Madonna (on page 87 and page 85); the Madonna del Cardellino (Uffizi); the Madonna in the Meadow (Belvedere, Vienna); La Belle Jardinière (Louvre); and a number of portraits including the famous self-portrait (Uffizi). He was but twenty-five! Called to Rome in 1508 to decorate the Stanze in the Vatican this immense work occupied him until 1514. In the meantime, he was given the decoration of the Loggia, but while he made the designs, the actual painting of “Raphael’s Bible” was done by his pupils. In the pressure of all this stupendous work he found[90] time to paint The Triumph of Galatea for Agostino Chigi in the Farnesina Palace, The Madonna della Seggiola (Pitti), the Portrait of Tommaso Inghirami and many portraits. In 1516 he painted Baldassare Castiglione (Louvre); in 1517 the Madonna di San Sisto, for the convent of San Sisto at Piacenza (Dresden Gallery) and the St. Cecilia (Bologna Gallery). In 1518 he began The Transfiguration, which was unfinished at the time of his death and which was placed beside his bier.

All this magnificent work which expresses such high creative power and such vast technical knowledge is the performance of a young man of twenty-seven! Had he painted but three pictures, La Belle Jardinière, the Madonna of the Chair, and the Sistine Madonna, Raphael’s place would have been with the greatest of the immortals. Taking his entire list of works into consideration Raphael, perhaps, comes nearer than any other painter to the term “inspired.”

#### AGONY IN THE GARDEN.

Raphael | Collection of
(1483–1520). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

This panel (9½ × 11 inches), was one of four belonging to the Predella of the large altar-piece representing the Madonna Enthroned with Saints, painted by Raphael in 1505 for the Nuns of S. Antonio, Perugia. It is, therefore, one of Raphael’s early works.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

AGONY IN THE GARDEN

—Raphael

The Saviour in a grey robe kneels in prayer at the right near a tree and towards him an Angel holding a chalice descends from the clouds. The other characters are sleeping: St. John the Evangelist in a green and red robe lies upon a grassy bank at the left; St. Peter reclines against a grassy mound at the right; and St. James, in a green and yellow robe, has propped himself against the tree in the centre. Trees and low-lying hills form the background. All four panels forming the Predella were purchased from the Nuns of St. Anthony in 1663 by Christina, Queen of Sweden. This particular panel—The Agony in the Garden—passed from the Queen of Sweden’s possession into that of Cardinal Azzolini, and thence into the Collection of Don Livio[92] Odescalchi, whose heirs sold it to the Regent, the Duc d’Orleans. The Orleans Collection was sold in London in 1798 and The Agony in the Garden then went into the Bryant Collection. Lord Eldin bought it next and subsequently the poet, Samuel Rogers, at whose sale in 1856 the panel was purchased by the Baroness Burdett-Coutts. After the sale of the W. Burdett-Coutts Collection at Christie’s in 1917, the panel found its way to New York. The other three panels are: St. Anthony of Padua and St. Francis (now in the Dulwich Gallery); the Procession to Calvary (in the National Gallery, London); and a Pietà (in the Gardner Collection, Boston).

The altar-piece—The Madonna Enthroned with Saints—was presented to the Metropolitan Museum by the late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan.

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### NORTH ITALIAN

The greatest painters of Northern Italy were Altichiero Altichieri (1330?–1395), Pisanello (1397–1455), Domenico Morone (1442–1503), Liberale (1451–1536), Girolamo dai Libri (1474–1503), and Paolo Veronese (1528–1588), in Verona; Andrea Mantegna (1431–1506), in Padua; and Cosimo Tura (1420?–1495), in Ferrara; Vincenzo Foppa (1427?–1515–16), Bramante da Milano (died about 1470), Bartolommeo Suardi, called Bramantino (1450?–1536), and Bernardino Luini (1475?–1531–2), in Milan; Lorenzo Costa (1460?–1535), and Francesco Francia (1450?–1517), in Bologna; Moretto da Brescia (1498–1554), and Giambattista Moroni (1520–5–1578), in Brescia; and Antonio Allegri, better known as Correggio (1494–1534), in Parma.

The towns of Northern Italy were more or less influenced by Florentine artists who worked in various towns and who naturally attracted pupils and local assistants. Painters travelled too, a great deal, wishing, as they do now, to see the famous works of painters both living and dead and of learning the newest and latest technique. Lords and dukes also attracted celebrated painters to their courts; and, if they liked them, bestowed lavish orders for portraits, for their relatives and friends; small devotional pictures for their own cabinets; wall-paintings for their villas; and altar-pieces and frescoes for their local churches or cathedrals.

Lodovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, sent to Lorenzo de’ Medici on two or three occasions to recommend painters from Florence for work that he wished to have done. The great intellectual and artistic activity of Lombardy at the end of the Fifteenth Century was largely owing to Lodovico Sforza, whose Court was one of the most brilliant of the day. “Here,” an enthusiastic contemporary exclaimed, “here the muses of poetry and the masters of sculpture reigned supreme; here came the most distinguished painters from distant regions; here, night[94] and day, were heard sounds of such sweet singing and such delicious harmonies of music that they seemed to descend from heaven itself.”

New churches and palaces arose in Milan, Pavia, Como, Cremona, Piacenza, Lugano, and other places, and artists were necessary for decorating them. In 1496, Leonardo having all he could do, Lodovico wrote to Florence for a description of the best painters of the day. This is what he received; and it is very interesting as showing the estimation of the men mentioned while they were living:

“Sandro de Botticello—a most excellent master, both in panel and wall-painting. His figures have a manly air and are admirable in conception and proportion.

“Filippino di Frati Filippo—an excellent disciple of the above-named and a son of the rarest master of our times. His heads have a gentler and more suave air; but, we are inclined to think, less art.

“Il Perugino—a rare and singular artist, most excellent in wall-painting. His faces have an air of the most angelic sweetness.

“Domenico de Girlandaio—a good master in panels and a better one in wall-painting. His figures are good and he is an industrious and active master who produces much work.

“All of these masters have given proof of their excellence in the Chapel of Pope Sixtus, excepting Filippino, and also in the Spedaletto of the Magnificent Laurentio, and their merit is almost equal.[13]

The glimpse Leonardo da Vinci has given us of his life charms us across the long shadow of four centuries and more:

“The painter describes himself as living in a fine house, full of beautiful paintings and choice objects surrounded by musicians and poets. Here he sits at his work, handling a brush full of lovely color, never so happy as when he can paint listening to the sound of sweet melodies. The spacious atélier is full of scholars and apprentices employed in carrying out their master’s ideas, or making chemical experiments, but careless of the noise of tools and hammers, the fair-haired boy, Angelo, sings his golden song, and, Serafino, the wondrous improvisatore, chants his own verses to the sound of the lyre. Visitors come and go freely—Messer Jacopo of Ferrara, the architect, who was so dear[95] to Leonardo as a brother, the courtly poet, Gaspare Visconti, and Vincenzo Calmeta, Duchess Beatrice’s secretary, or, it may be, the great Messer Galeaz himself, whose big jennet and Sicilian horse the master has been drawing as models for the great equestrian statue standing outside in the Corte Vecchia. There, among them all, the painter bends over his canvas seeking to perfect the glazes and scrumbles of his pearly tints, or trying to realize some dream of a face that haunts his fancy with its exquisite smile. He has, it is true, many labors—(a tanta faccenda!) as he wrote to the councillors of Piacenza—and at times he hardly knows which way to turn; but he is his own master, free to work as he will, now at one, now at another. He has no cares nor anxiety. He can dress as he pleases, wear rich apparel if he is so minded, or don the plain clothes and sober hues that he prefers. He has gold enough and to spare; he can help a poorer friend and educate a needy apprentice, or save his money for a rainy day; and, above all, he has plenty of books and leisure to meditate on philosophical treatises, or ponder over the scientific problems in which his soul delights. He can find time to jot down his thoughts on many things, to write his great treatise on painting, and to draw the wonderful interlaced patterns inscribed with the strange words which have puzzled so many generations of commentators. And he has friends, too, dear to his heart—Messer Jacopo and the wise Lorenzo da Pavia, that master of organs whose hands were as deft in fashioning lyres and viols as in drawing out sweet sounds—with whom he loved to commune of musical instruments and eternal harmonies, and the boy, Andrea Salai, with the beautiful, curling hair, whom he loved to dress up in green velvet mantles and shoes with rose-colored ribbons and silver buckles. ‘Such,’ he tells us ‘was I, Leonardo the Florentine, at the Court of the most illustrious Prince, Signor Lodovic.’”[14]

In such surroundings Leonardo da Vinci spent sixteen happy years, during which he exercised all his talents as architect, engineer, sculptor, musician, and painter, also designing ingenious settings for masques and tournaments and superintending decorations for weddings and for other festivities. Here, too, he painted the Last Supper in the refectory[96] of the Dominican Friars of S. Maria delle Grazie, which “Il Moro” had taken under his special protection; the Virgin of the Rocks (now in the Louvre), originally for the Church of S. Francesco of Milan, and many portraits, including those of Ludovico Sforza and of his talented young wife, Beatrice d’Este. When the French entered Milan in 1499 Leonardo returned to Italy.

The presence of the supreme and superlative Leonardo in Milan for so long a time naturally stimulated art and artists of all kinds and even more particularly that of painting and painters. His style dominated the Milanese School of painters just as Richard Wagner dominated the musical composers of the Nineteenth Century; and we find, particularly in the case of Luini, some of the Master’s most engaging qualities appreciated and imitated (see page 110).

“It has often been asked,” Marcel Reymond notes in a finely thought-out criticism of the Milanese painters, “how it came to pass that Leonardo left no disciples in Florence when he created such a strong School in Milan. The first cause, in my opinion, should be sought for in the laws that presided over the formation and development of the Florentine School of painting. This School, created by fresco-painters accustomed to works of vast dimensions, did not care to tarry over the finesse of execution, or the enumeration of minute details; it simplified its vision, attaching itself particularly to the broad lines and only retaining of the forms what was essentially expressive in them. This character will be noticed at all periods of Florentine painting from Giotto, Masaccio, Ghirlandaio, and Andrea del Sarto. When the Florentine painters depart from this general conception, it is only by accident and almost always in consequence of foreign action, an action that will be sometimes that of Flemish painters, such as Van der Weyden, or Van der Goes, and sometimes that of the Florentine sculptors, who, at a given moment, about the middle of the Fifteenth Century, exercised so powerful an influence upon the painters who were their contemporaries. The action of Verrocchio in particular was such as to transform the style of the Florentine School of Painting and to give birth to the so entirely individual, and in certain respects so little Florentine, of Leonardo da Vinci.

[97]

“But the fact that this new style was outside the traditions of the Florentine School of Painting must have hindered its development, and in reality Leonardo had no disciple in Florence. With Fra Bartolommeo and Andrea del Sarto, it is the old character of the School that reappears to follow out its natural evolution through the whole course of the Sixteenth Century.

“In the North of Italy, on the contrary, the precision of line and observation of detail form a predominant character of those Schools of which Mantegna is the most illustrious representative. These Schools, therefore, found in Leonardo a teaching that responded to their ancient traditions; and we may thus understand how the seed planted by Leonardo in the soil of Milan struck such deep root and produced such beautiful flowers there.

“But however this may be and whatever may have been the causes of this admirable blossoming of Milanese Art in the early years of the Sixteenth Century, we may say that it represents in a highly learned form one of the researches that have the most occupied Italian genius,—I mean the seeking after beauty pursued in the harmonious accord between form and poetry.”

Francesco Squarcione (1394–1474), was a native of Padua, the son of a notary. Beginning life as a tailor and embroiderer, he chose to become a painter, but first he decided to travel. He made a tour through Italy and, it is said, visited Greece. It is in 1441 that his name first appears in the Paduan Guild of Painters. Squarcione achieved more reputation as a teacher than as a painter; and it seems that in executing what commissions came to him he either gave over his orders to his talented pupils, or had them, indeed, do most of the work under his name. It is now thought that it was Mantegna’s refusal to continue painting for Squarcione that led to the rupture between master and pupil and not Squarcione’s anger at Mantegna’s marrying Nicolosia Bellini, which has long been a favorite legend. Squarcione’s school, however, was the most famous of its time and brought him the title of “Father of Painters.” The list of his pupils runs to about a hundred and thirty-seven. One of the features of Squarcione’s workshop was his fine collection of fragments of statues[98] which he used as models. It is also said on good authority that Squarcione was a dealer in antiquities.

In Padua also lived Jacopo Bellini, with whom Mantegna worked and whose daughter Nicolosia he married, a relation that made him, of course, brother-in-law to Giovanni and Gentile Bellini. For a number of years—presumably from 1444 to 1460—Jacopo Bellini had a workshop in Mantua and, here, himself a pupil of Gentile da Fabriano, he trained and worked with his two gifted sons and also Andrea Mantegna. This bottega became quite a rival of Squarcione’s. Indeed such a combination as the three Bellini artists and Andrea Mantegna would certainly offer a formidable competition to any rival, at any time, or in any place.

The founder of the Ferrarese School was Cosimo Tura (1420?–1495), also a pupil of Squarcione, the first Ferrarese painter of eminence; and, from 1451, in permanent service of the Dukes at Ferrara. Tura had certain affinities for Carlo Crivelli, Melozzo da Forli, and Andrea Mantegna.

At Bologna, in 1485, Lorenzo Costa (1460?–1535), a supposed pupil of Tura, established himself, thus forming one of the main links between the Schools of Ferrara and Bologna; and it was another pupil—also a fellow-worker of Costa, Francesco Francia (1450?–1517), who is the chief glory of the Bolognese School (see page 107).

In Verona, first comes the Mediæval painter, Altichiero Altichieri and next the greater Antonio (or Vittore) Pisano (1397–1455), called Pisanello, worker in medals, painter of portraits, and mural decorator (see page 99).

The School of Brescia is represented by Alessandro Bonvicino, called Moretto da Brescia (1498–1554), influenced by Titian and Raphael and considered the greatest provincial painter in Northern Italy of his time. Moretto is also famous for having formed Moroni, the great portrait-painter (1520–5–1578). Moretto and Moroni are regarded as ranking among the greatest portrait-painters of the Sixteenth Century. In mode and technique they closely follow the greatest Venetian Masters; but the Brecians have a more silvery and a much “cooler” tone than Titian and Tintoretto (see page 112).

[99]

We have now come to the High Renaissance, where Antonio Allegri, called Il Correggio, from his birthplace, a small town near Modena (1494–1534), is the dominating personality of the School of Parma. Francesco Bianchi (1457–1510), of Ferrara, is his traditional master; but he was influenced by Lorenzo Costa, Francesco Francia, and Andrea Mantegna. Correggio has been called “an isolated phenomenon in Italian art—we look in vain, after his earliest years of practice for any true affinity between him and other masters. In his treatment of light and shades and of atmosphere he contributed something new to Italian art.”

As the Sixteenth Century progressed the North Italians fell more and more under the spell of the Venetians. Dosso Dossi (1479–1541), for instance, a painter of Ferrara and a pupil of Lorenzo Costa, went to Venice and was charmed by Giorgione and Titian before he became court-painter of Alphonso I, Duke of Ferrara, and his wife, Lucrezia Borgia.

Northern Italy also claims Paolo Caliari, better known as Paolo Veronese (1528–1588), a native of Verona, whence his name; but classed with the Venetian School, as he spent the greater part of his life in Venice, gorgeously decorating its palaces, churches, and monasteries.

#### PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

Pisanello | Collection of
(1397–1455). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

This is a particularly rare picture as it is one of only three portraits of this painter so far known, the other two being a female portrait in the Louvre and a male portrait in Bergamo. Berenson says of this portrait: “It is in the most mature and the most sumptuous manner of this greatest master of the fascinating epoch between Gothic and Renaissance. It has all the direct simplicity of that happy moment when art had recovered from the mannerisms of the late Gothic style and was still far from the modishness of the ripe Renaissance. How fascinating are its qualities of pure decoration!”

[100]

The lady is dressed in dark-blue velvet with a curious collar of white lawn and grey fur with another collar at its base of spangled embroidery and around the waist a narrow girdle to match. The dress is profusely decorated with gold filigree beads.

Gold pins are placed in her blonde hair, over which is a head-dress of curiously puffed and twisted material decorated by blue and gold sequins.

The background is black.

This portrait, painted in tempera on a panel (20¾ × 14¾), was purchased by M. Veil-Picard of Paris at the Villeroy Sale in Paris in 1922. Adolfo Venturi writes in L’Arte (April, 1925): “The Mackay portrait cut off below the waist, rises in the canvas with Gothic grace. Picturesqueness is the keynote. The relief, even in its slightest parts, has an ideal softness of planes. But in this picture Pisanello’s genius has attained its maximum of expression. Everything shows an advance on the Louvre picture—the eye sunk deep in its socket; the eyebrow like the valve of a shell molded over the round, while in the Louvre picture it is a mere silken strip; the ear, no longer a mere piece of cartilage, is downy velvet; above all, the superb decorative effect of the oval face between the strange volutes of the turban and the chains of perforated gold beads.

“In the other portraits the decorative effect is helped by the fantastic blossoms standing out against the dark background of the hedge, making a greater contrast with the background than with the face. In the Mackay portrait the background is equally dark throughout. The interest of the face itself is accentuated by the myriad gold lights in the gilded trefoils on the dress and in the golden beads of the chains (light as balls of silk) and in the nebulous phosphorescence of the little balls which adorn the neck of the dress and the dark enamel of the ivy on the turban of Oriental splendor. The effect, carefully prepared to isolate the face from the surrounding shadow, acquires an intensity of refinement. The contrast between the dark background and the phosphorescent dress is repeated in that between the dark blue material of the dress and in the high lights of this; the icy brilliance of the collar cuts into the softness of the fur with unexpected[102] suddenness; and the ivory of the flesh contrasts sharply with the delicate softness of tone.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

PORTRAIT OF A LADY

—Pisanello

“The highest pictorial and decorative value in the art of Pisanello as a colorist is reached in this Mackay portrait, which represents, moreover, one of the most acute character-readings of the penetrating eye of the medallist. The proud carriage accentuated by the rigid cut of the high velvet collar; the clear-cut outlines of the profile; the ram’s horn head-dress; the splendid cap; the well-defined lips, from which one expects to hear the sibilant breath issue; above all, the keen glance directed downwards under the heavy-veiled eyelids render this a picture of frigid haughtiness. The fine lines of the mouth and the narrow opening of the eyes are executed with an extraordinary penetrating observation and the contour of the face is drawn with a delicacy that does all honor to this great master of the silhouette.

“The lines of the face are in complete harmony with the contours of the whole figure. The curves repeat themselves in the fantastic coiffure, in the fur border of the collar, in the lines of the arm and in the chains hanging from the shoulders. And, contrarily, these general sweeping curves of coiffure and costume lead up to the finely concentrated line of the profile which stands out sharply against a black background, as in Pisanello’s painting of Saint Eustace, in London (National Gallery). The artist has understood perfectly the value of contrast between the plastic and the decorative elements. The flat planes of the delicate ivory-like face are emphasized by the sculpturesque coiffure with its gold ornaments; and just where we would naturally look for an accentuation of the physical attributes—on the bust and arms—the artist has, through the broad curves of the chains and the spacing of the patterns of the dress, emphasized the decorative design. Finally, the color of this most decorative masterpiece is of the greatest charm. There are tiny lines recalling the delicate technique of a piece of Satsuma-ware on the surface of the ivory-tinted face that rises from a white collar resting on grey fur while a delightful blue predominates in the coiffure and the costume, which is enhanced with yellow and gold ornaments.

“The dress itself is of no little charm and belongs to a period when[103] costume and figure were attuned to a harmonious whole as has seldom happened in the history of costume design. By plucking out the hair from her forehead and eyebrows this young woman has created a high-domed brow for herself and further emphasized the up-sweeping lines by high-arched eyebrows applied with cosmetic. What a burden that towering coiffure must have been and how uncomfortable the high collar and the girdle drawn tight beneath the breast! Nevertheless she suffers these discomforts in the name of fashion with dignity and equanimity.”

Pisanello (whose real name was Antonio Pisano), born about 1397 (some authorities say 1380 and some 1385), was a renowned painter of portraits and religious pictures of highly decorative character as well as a famous medallist. Pisanello was a follower of Altichiero and was also greatly influenced by Gentile da Fabriano. Of his early life little or nothing is known; but the rest of his days he spent wandering throughout Italy, now in Mantua, now in Verona, now in Venice, now in Rome, now in Naples, and now in Ferrara, cutting medals and painting portraits of distinguished personages. In 1439 he was in Mantua as an intimate friend of the Marchese Francesco Gonzaga, whom he followed at the capture of Verona. Therefore he had to come under the Tribunal of the Council of Ten at Venice in 1442. Pisanello’s career coincides almost precisely in date with Fra Angelico, Donatello, Ghiberti, and Brunelleschi. As a medallist Pisanello was unexcelled. In his paintings he shows the spirit of a miniaturist rather than that of a mural decorator. He shares with Gentile da Fabriano the charming quality of chivalric grace and attention to interesting detail. Pisanello must have been especially fond of animals, as his rarely beautiful drawings of them preserved in various galleries would seem to prove; and, moreover, he was fond of introducing them into his pictures. In the Vision of Saint Eustace, for instance (National Gallery, London), in addition to the stag bearing the cross upon his horns, there are various animals and birds as well as the fine horse with its gay trappings, on which the handsome Eustace is mounted.

“Altichiero had scarcely ceased covering wall-spaces with pomp and circumstance of Mediæval life,” writes Berenson, “when the task was[104] taken up by his better-known Renaissance follower, Vittorio Pisanello. The larger part of this artist’s work, in fact all his decoration of great houses and public palaces, has perished. Even now, after earnest efforts to gather together the strewn limbs of his art, only six paintings of his can be discovered: two frescoes, two sacred subjects, and two portraits. His renown as a painter has, therefore, been eclipsed by his fame as a medallist. And, in truth, never, since the days when Greek craftsmen modelled coins for proud city states, has there been such a moulder of subtle reliefs in miniature. Yet Pisanello himself never signed his name without the addition of the word Pictor and it was as a painter that he received the stipends of princes and the adulation of poets.

“Although he was much more modern than his master, there was nothing in his paintings to startle princes and poets, or even less distinguished persons, whose education in art consisted then, no doubt, as it does now, in confirming a fondness for the kind of picture to which their eyes had grown accustomed during childhood and youth. Pisanello, although counting as one of the great geniuses of the Renaissance, by no means broke with the past. He went, it is true, as far beyond Altichiero as Altichiero had gone from his immediate precursors, but he betrays no essential difference of intention or spirit. In him art-evolution produced a painter most happily fitted to hold up an idealizing mirror to a parallel product of social evolution, the sunset of Chivalry. No wonder that he was employed along with the kindred Gentile da Fabriano by the rich and noble and that he was chosen to continue the courtly Umbrian’s tasks.”

#### ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS.

Andrea Mantegna | Collection of
(1431–1506). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

It is more than likely this is the picture described in 1586 as “Presepe” (manger) in the Este Palace, Ferrara. At all events it is an early work.

The Virgin surrounded by cherubs is kneeling in adoration before[106] the Holy Child, who is asleep on the bottom of her gown. Near her St. Joseph is seated, fast asleep. On the right two Shepherds are approaching and, behind them, a Man and a Woman are crossing a bridge. High up on the rocks, on the right, two Angels are watching over the scene. Behind the simple wooden building, which shelters the group, stretches a landscape.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS

—Andrea Mantegna

The panel transferred to canvas (15 × 21½ inches), was formerly in the Collection of Mr. C. A. Rouse-Boughton-Knight of Downton Castle, Ludlow, Herefordshire, England.

Andrea Mantegna was born in Vicenza in 1431. He was inscribed in the Guild at Padua as pupil and adopted son of Squarcione (see page 97) in 1441 and made the most extraordinary progress in his studies, perfectly fascinated with “the antique”. “At a little more than ten years of age,” Berenson writes, “Mantegna was adopted by a contractor named Squarcione. How much of a painter Squarcione was, we do not know, but we do know that he undertook designing and painting to be executed by people in his employ. He was also a dealer in antiquities and his shop was frequented by the distinguished people who passed through Padua, and by the Humanists teaching in the famous University. It happened to be a moment when in Italy Antiquity was a religion, nay, more, a mystical passion, causing wise men to brood over fragments of Roman statuary as if they were sacred relics, and to yearn for ecstatic union with the glorified past. To complete the spell, this glorified past happened to be the past of their own country.”

Another influence was Donatello, who was working in Padua in 1750 and after; and still another was Jacopo Bellini. After his marriage to Bellini’s daughter and his break with Squarcione, Mantegna went to Venice to have his contract with Squarcione cancelled in the Law Courts; and, returning to Padua, he continued his work on important frescoes. In 1460 Mantegna removed to the Court of Mantua at the invitation of the Marchese Lodovico Gonzaga and in addition to his painting he designed for pageants and festivals, and decorated villas and palaces, just as Leonardo da Vinci was destined to do a few years later for another Lodovico,—“Il Moro,”[107] Regent and, later, Duke of Milan. Mantegna also at this period designed for goldsmiths. When Francesco Gonzaga succeeded his father, Mantegna remained at the Court of Mantua and became the supreme arbiter of the taste of the day. For Francesco’s wife, Isabella d’Este (sister of “Il Moro’s” wife, Beatrice d’Este) and for her mother, the Duchess of Ferrara, Mantegna painted some of his most famous pictures, such as the Triumph of Cæsar (now at Hampton Court Palace) and the Madonna and Child with Singing Cherubs (now in the Brera). On leaving for Rome in 1788 Mantegna was knighted. In Rome he decorated the Belvedere Chapel for Pope Innocent VIII. To his last period belong delicate and lovely mythological pieces, including the Parnassus (now in the Louvre) and the strong and decorative painting of Judith with the Head of Holofernes (now in the Widener Collection).

When Mantegna died in 1506, Lorenzo da Pavia (see page 95) wrote to Isabella d’Este: “The death of our Master Andrea causes me great sorrow, for in him a second Apelles has passed away; I do believe that the Lord God wishes to employ him for the creation of some beautiful work. I can never hope to meet a finer draughtsman nor a more original artist.”

Padua, Mantua, Venice,—all felt Mantegna’s influence.

#### VIRGIN AND CHILD WITH THE INFANT ST. JOHN AND ANGEL.

Francia | Collection of
(1450?–1517). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

This picture came from the Collection of the Comtesse Edmond de Pourtales of Paris and shows the Virgin seated and holding the nude Infant Jesus on her right knee. She is wearing a crimson dress edged with gold embroidery and a blue mantle, also edged with gold embroidery, which is drawn over her head. Beneath this a white gauze veil covers her hair. The Holy Child has raised His right hand in benediction while in His left he holds a blue ball. The Angel on the right wears a rose-colored tunic and yellow mantle and is adorned[108] with jewels. By his side and with one foot on a balustrade stands the Infant St. John, dressed in blue and carrying a slender cross over his left shoulder.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

VIRGIN AND CHILD WITH THE INFANT ST. JOHN AND ANGEL

—Francia

Of this panel (23½ × 19¾ inches), painted in oil, Berenson says: “If this most famous of the Bolognese artists ever painted a more delightful picture than the present one, it remains unknown to me. Perhaps its only rival in my affections would be the Munich picture of the Virgin in the Rose Garden where, however, it is not the faces but the pale roses against the flat green that give the work its special charm.”

Francesco Raibolini, who took the name Francia from a master-goldsmith to whom he was apprenticed, was born in Bologna in 1450, the son of a carpenter. He spent his early years working in metals and settings for jewels and became very expert in niello, gold and silver enamels, and designs for jewelry. He also acquired a reputation for his coins and medals, so much so indeed that Giovanni Bentivoglio II, who became his patron, appointed him his master of the mint. Moreover, in 1511 Francia was elected one of the Golfalonieri of the people; in 1512 re-elected to the mastership of the Goldsmith’s Guild; and in 1514 he became “Master of the Four Arts.” It is thought that he began to paint about 1483, when Lorenzo Costa came to Bologna and formed a friendship with Francia. Be this as it may, he worked with Costa on an altar-piece for the Church of the Misericordia and the influence of Costa is apparent in much of his work. Francia also painted with Costa in 1505–1507 the series of frescoes in the Chapel of St. Cecilia and the Madonna del Terremoto in the Palazzo Communale, Bologna. Francia painted Madonnas all his life; and in addition to these religious pictures, he painted a number of splendid portraits. He died in Bologna in 1517. One of his pupils was Timoteo Viti, who in turn was Raphael’s early teacher and imparted to him some of Francia’s quality, particularly in the general appearance of the Madonna and the full rounded contours of the figures. About 1500 Francia began to develop his own personal style.

[109]
[110]

#### PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

Bernardino Luini | Collection of
(1475?–1531–2). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

The first thing we notice in this picture is a very peculiar head-dress—large and round and fleecy.

The figure is half-length, life-size, and faces us so that we gain a very good idea of the unknown lady, so boldly set forth from the background of a green curtain. She wears a dark-grey dress, a white embroidered chemisette and a jewelled cross hanging from a gold chain which she is fingering lightly. In her right hand is a pet marten. The hands, it should be noted, are beautifully drawn. This, an oil painting on panel (29 × 21½), came from the Benson Collection, having been previously in the Collection of Mr. F. R. Leyland.

Bernardino Luini was born at Luini, near the Lago Maggiore about 1475, and died in Milan in 1531 or 1532. Luini worked chiefly in the vicinity of Milan and painted a great many frescoes. He is said to have been a pupil of Borgognone; but whether that be true or not, most certainly Leonardo da Vinci was his real master. It was assuredly from the painter of the Mona Lisa that Luini learned how to paint a charming woman with refined features breaking into a radiant and enchanting smile. Luini painted many notable religious pictures, including admirable Madonnas, but his loveliest work is the portrait of a Milanese lady known as The Columbine, in The Hermitage Gallery, gazing at the flower she is holding in her hand, from which the picture takes its name.

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

PORTRAIT OF A LADY

—Luini

“Luini’s female creations are so exquisite that for a long time people supposed that Leonardo alone was capable of conceiving them,” writes Marcel Reymond, “and permanently recording their loveliness; but now this injustice has come to an end and Luini’s art appears before us with sharply determined characteristics that prevent us from confounding it with Leonardo’s art; first of all, from the point of view of technique, it must be remembered that Leonardo works like a master born about 1450 and Luini like one born after 1470.[112] With Luini the workmanship is less precise than with Leonardo, while the stroke is less restrained and the modelling freer.”

#### TITIAN’S SCHOOLMASTER.

Giambattista Moroni | Collection of
(1520–5–1578). | Mr. Joseph E. Widener.

In the National Gallery, London, there is a striking portrait of a Tailor—known as the Tagliapanni—standing behind his board, at half-length, with shears in his right hand and a piece of cloth in his left, looking inquiringly at the spectator. It is forceful, attractive, commands attention, and lives in the memory of all who have looked upon it. Moroni’s Tailor is one of the great portraits of the world. The merest glance at the picture represented here would tell you that it is by the same hand. The means of producing a striking effect are even simpler than in the London portrait.

The title is entirely fanciful, but it accords well with the subject, a pleasant, genial man with an intellectual countenance. He seems to be about sixty years of age and is dressed in black with white linen collar and a black cap. His beard is grey. He is sitting sideways in a chair that is often described to-day (and for no reason whatever) as a “Savonarola Chair,” resting his left arm on the arm of the chair and holding a book in his right. It would appear that he has just been interrupted in his reading—pleasantly, too, it would seem—and is keeping the page he has left off reading with one finger between the leaves. The hands are marvellously drawn and painted, as is also the ring on the left hand. Van Dyck admired this picture so much that he made a sketch of it in his Italian sketch-book (which is now at Chatsworth).

This portrait in oils on canvas (38 × 29½ inches) was long in the Borghese Gallery at Rome, and then at the beginning of the Nineteenth Century it was purchased by the Marquis of Stafford. From the Duke of Northumberland’s Collection, Stafford House, it passed to the present owner.

Collection of Mr. Joseph E. Widener

TITIAN’S SCHOOLMASTER

—Moroni

Moroni’s great fame, even in his own day, was as a portrait-painter;[114] and it is said that when people from Bergamo and its vicinity went to Titian to have their portraits painted, he told them to go home and sit to their own countryman. Moroni was a pupil of Moretto at Brescia, was influenced by Lotto and Titian, and he, in his turn, influenced Van Dyck.

Moroni was born at Bondo in Bergamo between 1520 and 1525 and died at Bergamo in 1578.

[115]

### VENETIAN

“It is evident,” wrote Taine, “that, while following a path of its own, Venetian Painting developed as in the rest of Italy. It issued here, as elsewhere, from missals and mosaics and was at first in sympathy with purely Christian emotion; then, by degrees, the feeling for beautiful human life introduced into the altar-frames vigorous and healthy bodies taken from contemporary types; and we wonder at the placid, expressions and religious physiognomies on the blooming faces in which the youthful blood circulates and sustains innate temperament. This is the confluence of two spirits and two ages: one, the Christian, which is fading away; the other, the Pagan, which is in the ascendant. In Venetian Art special traits are distinguished. The people are more closely copied from life and are less transformed by Classic or mystic sentiment, not so pure as at Perugia, not so noble as at Florence: they are addressed more to the senses than to the mind or the heart; they are more quickly recognized as men and give greater pleasure to the eye. Strong and lively tones color their muscles and their faces; living flesh is soft on their shoulders and on the thighs of little children; clear landscapes open into the distance to make the deeper tints of the figure stand out; saints gather around the Virgin in a variety of attitudes unknown to the other Primitive Schools with their uniform processions. At the height of its fervor and faith the national spirit, fond of diversity and joy, allows a smile to escape.”

Venice was slow in abandoning Byzantine tradition. Changes begin to be apparent in the Fourteenth Century. Walter Pater notes: “The beginnings of Venetian Painting link themselves to the last, stiff, half-barbaric splendors of Byzantine decoration and are but the introduction into the crust of marble and gold on the walls of the Duomo of Murano, or of St. Mark’s, of a little more of human expression. And throughout the course of its later development, always subordinate to[116] architectural effect, the work of the Venetian School never escaped from the influence of its beginnings. Unassisted, and therefore, unperplexed by naturalism, religious mysticism, philosophical theories, it had no Giotto, no Fra Angelico, no Botticelli. Except from the stress of thought or sentiment, which taxed so severely the resources of the generations of Florentine artists, those earlier Venetian painters, down to Carpaccio and the Bellini, seem never for a moment to have been tempted even to lose sight of the scope of their art in its strictness, or to forget that painting must be before all things decorative, a thing for the eye, a space of color on the wall, only more dexterously blent than the marking of its precious stone, or the chance interchange of sun and shade upon it—this to begin and end with—whatever higher matter of thought, or poetry, or religious reverie, might play its part therein, between.”

During the Fifteenth Century Venice began to be influenced by painters from other cities, particularly by Gentile da Fabriano (see page 74) and Pisanello (see page 99), who were sent for to decorate the Doge’s Palace. Gentile da Fabriano represented all the latest “modernistic” ideas of his day. Among the Venetians who were most profoundly influenced by him was Jacopo Bellini (who later went to Padua). Jacopo, in spite of his contact with Squarcione and Andrea Mantegna (who married his daughter), remained “Gothic” in essentials. Jacopo Bellini had one of the largest bottegas in Venice; and this bottega was continued by his gifted sons, Giovanni and Gentile.

Jacopo was a talented painter who had worked in Florence as well as Padua, but who really belongs to Venice.

The great rivals of the Bellini painters were the Vivarini on the Island of Murano. The Vivarini, the first of whom was Antonio da Murano (active 1440–1476 or 1484), who played a great part in the development of the Venetian School and whose work consisted of enormous altar-pieces of many compartments set in Gothic framework of very ornate character and profusely adorned with gold; Bartolommeo Vivarini, Antonio’s younger brother (1431?–1499?), in whose work the influence of the Paduan School of Squarcione is marked and[117] also that of Antonello da Messina; and Antonio’s son, Alvise Vivarini (1447–1504), a pupil of his father and uncle, who was working in 1474 with Giovanni Bellini in the Scuola di San Girolamo in Venice and whose portraits show the influence of Antonello da Messina.

Carlo Crivelli (1430?–1493?), if not a Venetian by birth, which is most probable, is classed as belonging to the Venetian School. Crivelli was a fellow-pupil of Bartolommeo Vivarini under Antonio da Murano (Vivarini), and Squarcione. Like Mantegna, Crivelli kept to tempera painting; Crivelli stands alone for his wonderful decorative qualities (see page 125 and page 128).

Antonello da Messina (1430–1479) was a contemporary of Crivelli and is particularly distinguished for introducing into Italy the Flemish system of painting with oils. In his pictures the influence of the Bellini is apparent (see page 124).

Giovanni Bellini (1428–30–1516), one of the greatest painters of the Fifteenth Century, was trained by his father, Jacopo Bellini. Next he followed in the footsteps of Squarcione and Andrea Mantegna; but he changed his style, as well as his technique, gradually abandoning tempera for the new practice in oils, which he was one of the first to master. In some respects Giovanni Bellini was influenced by his own pupil, Giorgione (see page 118). Gentile Bellini (1426–9–1507), was named, it is interesting to note, for Gentile da Fabriano, his father’s master and friend. Gentile, trained by his father, Jacopo, was called upon to paint the organ-shutters at St. Mark’s with colossal figures of St. Mark, St. Theodore, St. Jerome, and St. Francis; was knighted by Frederic III in 1469; and was employed to restore the frescoes of Gentile da Fabriano in the Hall of the Grand Council in the Doge’s Palace, a commission which carried with it the honor of painting the portrait of every new Doge. Sent for by the Sultan of Constantinople, Mohammed II, to paint his portrait, Gentile sailed for Constantinople in 1479 and returned in 1480 with the title of Bey. Gentile then joined his brother, Giovanni, who was working on the Fabriano frescoes. The Bellini brothers also painted on canvas a series of pictures portraying the legend of Frederic Barbarossa and Pope Alexander III, which perished in the fire of 1577. Gentile’s Procession of Corpus Christi of[118] 1496 has been pronounced “the most important extant work of the Venetian School previous to the advent of Titian.”

The bottegas of the Bellini and Vivarini naturally produced a host of able painters, among whom were Marco Basaiti (active 1500–1521); Lazzaro Bastiani (active 1449–1512); Cima da Conegliano (1460?–1517?); and Jacopo Bassano (1510?–1592). Vittore Carpaccio (1450?–1526?), was a follower of Gentile Bellini; and the stories he told in paint, such as the series depicting the Life of Saint Ursula, belong to the great works of Venice.

Giorgione (1477–1510) is the next important name. Little or nothing is known of his life, except that he was born of humble parents at Castelfranco. By 1500 his reputation was established, for he was then painting important works. Among these was a picture for the Hall of Audience in the Doge’s Palace and some fresco decorations for the exterior of the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, the bank of the German merchants in Venice. Giorgione was a pupil and follower of the Bellini and had much influence upon Giovanni Bellini. Giorgione died of the Plague in his thirty-fourth year. Giorgione stands alone for his romantic and lyrical qualities and for his penetrating charm. He is notable, too, for having introduced music into his pictures, or rather persons who are playing upon instruments.

Apart from his delightful qualities Giorgione is of the greatest importance in the evolution of painting. Walter Pater writes: “Giorgione is the inventor of genre, of those easily movable pictures which serve for uses, neither of devotion nor of allegorical, or historical teaching—little groups of real men and women, amid congruous furniture or landscape—morsels of actual life, conversation, or music, or play, refined upon or idealized, till they come to seem like glimpses of life from afar. Those spaces of more cunningly blent color, obediently filling their place, hitherto, in a mere architectural scheme, Giorgione detaches from the wall; he frames them by the hands of some skillful carver, so that people may move them readily and take with them where they go, like a poem in manuscript, or a musical instrument, to be used, at will, as a means of self-education, stimulus or solace, coming like an animated presence, into one’s cabinet, to enrich the air as with[119] some choice aroma, and, like persons, live with us, for a day or a lifetime. Of all art like this, art which has played so large a part in men’s culture since that time, Giorgione is the initiator.”

Titian, or rather Tiziano Vecello (1477?–1576), fellow-pupil of Giorgione, of Gentile and Giovanni Bellini and assistant to Giorgione in decorating the Fondaco dei Tedeschi (which established a new era in Italian painting), was the leading painter of his day (see page 140).

Bartolommeo Veneto, of Veneziano (1480–1555), pupil of Giovanni Bellini, became a famous portrait-painter. (See page 148.)

Tintoretto, the magnificent Venetian, was nicknamed “Il Furioso,” because of his great technical powers that include astonishing display of foreshortening and many curious effects in light and color, as well as in form. Ruskin says Tintoretto (or Tintoret, call him as you please) made “figures lovely in themselves, content that they should deserve not demand, your attention.”

Playing with a full orchestra of color and understanding how to produce the most luminous effects of light, the great Venetian filled Venice with marvellous pictures. Tintoretto was equal to the immense work he undertook and his noble brush never left anything that was unworthy of it. Tintoretto, whose real name was Jacopo Robusti (1518–1594), was apprenticed to Titian and was influenced by Titian, Palma Vecchio, Michelangelo, and Parmigiano (of the School of Palma and follower of Correggio).

“There is one only—the last and greatest of the Venetians of the Renaissance—who could sound all the notes of tragedy and pathos as well as notes of joy. Tintoretto, the supreme Venetian, the greatest exponent of the essential spirit of Venice, is the son of a wider kingdom than hers and of a greater age than the Renaissance. Unsurpassed as a designer and colorist, he is endowed throughout with the peculiar gifts of Venice; but during those years of passionate study, in which he was winning here and there the secrets of his art, hungry for knowledge, careless of gain, and bargaining only for material in which to realize his conceptions,—during those years in which he lived alone in continual meditation on some fresh labor, he was probing the deep and passionate things of humanity as no Venetian artist had ever probed[120] them before. The streets and churches of the city seem to echo still to the steps of this genius at once so robust, so tender, so profound, and so joyous.”[15]

Paolo Veronese, or rather Paolo Caliari (1528–1588), a native of Verona, whence his name, is one of the most delightful of painters. J. Buisson considers Veronese of all the painters of Italy “the one whose work best serves to particularize the art of painting” and this able French critic goes on to say that “Veronese painted the Venetian Beautiful as the Greeks sculptured the Hellenic Beautiful” and that “Paul Veronese is of all the colorists, without a single exception, the one who has most unity. He is the most ethereal of the colorists. He is the painter of the air, both out-of-doors and in-doors. His values are impeccable and his shadows are at once transparent and full of color, without any artifice, such as Rubens’s exaggerated reflections, or the excessive sacrifices, which in Rembrandt are almost equivalent to a monotone in those parts that are lacking in light. His lights are broad and steady although modelled without any gleams, but of so shining a quality that they are positively radiant. Happy artist! He had the eye of the most perfect colorist ever known, able to perceive at the same time the different qualities of light and color and their variations in intensity and values and he possessed the gift to reveal them with marvellous art to ordinary mortals. Optics applied to his pictures show no law that he did not know and practice. Moreover, around his perfect visions of color are grouped other qualities, such as imagination, taste, rhythm, elegance, nobility, and magnificence in decoration. His hand is the equal of his eye. The rapidity of his brush may be compared only to that of Velasquez and to that of Rubens.”

This great period, Taine sums up as follows:

“The more we consider the ideal figures of Venetian Art, the more we feel the breath of an heroic age behind us. Those great, toga-draped, old men with the bald foreheads are the Patrician Kings of the Archipelago, Moorish Sultans, who, trailing their silken simars, received tribute and ordered executions. The superb women in sweeping[121] robes, bedizened and jewelled, are Empress-daughters of the Republic, like that Caterina Cornaro from whom Venice received Cyprus. There are the muscles of fighters in the bronzed breasts of the sailors and captains; their bodies, reddened by the sun and the wind, have dashed against the athletic bodies of Janizaries; their turbans, their pelisses, their furs, their sword-hilts constellated with precious stones—all the magnificence of Asia is mingled on their bodies with the floating draperies of Classic times and the nudities of Pagan tradition.”

Sebastian del Piombo (1485?–1547), pupil of Giovanni Bellini and Giorgione, preferred oil to fresco and this led to a famous quarrel between him and Michelangelo. Palma Vecchio (1480–1528), standing first in the second rank of Bellini-Giorgione followers, is another important painter. Lorenzo Lotto (1480–1556), pupil of Alvise Vivarini, painted with Raphael in the Vatican in 1508–9 and naturally fell under Raphael’s spell. Lotto spent much time in Bergamo; was touched by Correggio’s spirit; and, after 1529, was affected by Titian.

Paris Bordone (1500–1571), a gorgeous colorist, pupil and follower of Giorgione and Titian (and slightly touched by Palma Vecchio), was famous for his portraits, mythological pictures, and for that masterpiece entitled The Fisherman Presenting the Ring of St. Mark to the Doge (now in the Accademia at Venice).

“These Venetian artists of the Renaissance,” says d’Annunzio, “create in a medium that is itself a joyous mystery—in color, the ornament of the world, in color which seems to be the striving of the spirit to become light. And the entirely new musical understanding they have of color acts in such a way that their creation transcends the narrow limits of the symbols it represents and assumes the lofty, revealing faculty of an infinite harmony.”

To the Eighteenth Century belongs Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1696–1769), famous as a designer and colorist, influenced by Veronese, and a decorator of palaces and villas in Venice, Genoa, Milan, Würzburg, and Madrid, where he died. Tiepolo married Guardi’s sister in 1715.

Canaletto, or Giovanni Antonio da Canale (1697–1768), son of[122] Bernardo da Canale, a scene-painter, is famous for his views of Venice and for being the teacher of Guardi.

Francesco Guardi (1712–1793), a native Venetian, but of Austrian stock, a follower of his master Canaletto, was also celebrated for his Venetian views (see page 153).

“Venice herself” writes Berenson, “had not grown less beautiful in her decline. Indeed, the building which occupies the very centre of the picture Venice leaves in the mind—the Salute—was not built until the Seventeenth Century. This was the picture that the Venetian himself loved to have painted for him and that the stranger wanted to carry away. Canale painted Venice with a feeling for space and atmosphere, with a mastery over the delicate effects of mist peculiar to the city, that make his view of the Salute, the Grand Canal, and the Piazzetta still seem more like Venice than all the pictures that have been painted since. Later in the century Canale was followed by Guardi, who executed smaller views with more of an eye for the picturesque, and for what may be called instantaneous effects, thus anticipating both the Romantic and the Impressionist painters of our own century.”

To the Eighteenth Century also belongs Pietro Longhi (1702–1785?), influenced by Guardi, but called “The Goldini of painters,” because of his bright comedies of manners, somewhat in the genre of Watteau, Pater, and Lancret.

“Longhi painted for the picture-loving Venetians,” says Berenson, “their own lives in all their ordinary domestic and fashionable phases. In the hair-dressing scenes we hear the gossip of the periwigged barber; in the dressmaking scenes the chatter of the maid; in the dancing-school, the pleasant music of the violin. There is no tragic note anywhere. Everybody dresses, dances, makes bows, takes coffee, as if there were nothing else in the world that wanted doing. A tone of high courtesy, of great refinement, coupled with an all-pervading cheerfulness, distinguishes Longhi’s pictures from the works of Hogarth, at once so brutal and so full of presage of change.”

[124]

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Antonello da Messina | Collection of
(1430–1479). | Mr. Clarence H. Mackay.

The Virgin, slightly under life-size, stands behind a stone parapet, three-quarter face to left, apparently in a reverie with half-closed eyelids. She wears a red and gold brocade gown and a blue mantle carried up over her head and falling in a straight line, but for one small plait, to her left arm. The Holy Child is seated upon a green cushion on the parapet and is wrapped in a brick-red shawl. With His left arm around His mother’s neck and right hand in her bosom, He gazes straight ahead. The flesh-tones are pale with clear, light-brown shadows and the rose-leaf lips and cylindrical fingers with filbert-shaped nails are to be noticed and admired.

Collection of Mr. Clarence H. Mackay

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Antonello da Messina

This oil painting on panel (23 × 16 inches), comes from the Benson Collection. Antonello da Messina, also known as Antonello di Giovanni degli Antoni, holds a very important place in the development of Painting, because it is owing to him that the Flemish system of painting in oil was adopted in Italy, although Italian painters had been previously acquainted with the process, for they knew the works of the Van Eycks and Roger van der Weyden. It is supposed that Antonello, who was born in Messina in 1430, visited Flanders. It is certain, however, that Antonello was travelling in Italy in 1457–1460 and he may have met Roger van der Weyden, who visited Italy in 1450. Antonello da Messina was certainly in Venice in 1475–1476. He died in 1479, leaving a son, Jacobello, or Jacopo degli Antoni, and a nephew, Antonello di Saliba, both of whom were painters. It seems that Antonello da Messina and the Bellini exchanged many ideas and were of great mutual benefit. It is supposed that Antonello da Messina encouraged Giovanni Bellini to try painting in oils. St. Jerome in his Study in the National Gallery, London, shows the new character that Antonello brought into the Italian painting of his day.

[125]

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Carlo Crivelli | Collection of
(1430?–1493?). | Mr. A. W. Erickson.

Before analysing this delightful picture, let us read an appreciation of a most fascinating and not too well-understood painter by Cosmo Monkhouse: “Carlo Crivelli is a Venetian artist of whom we know little but what can be gathered from pictures. He is supposed to have been born about 1430 and his dated works range from 1468 to 1493. He was a Venetian by birth and from his mode it would appear certain that he studied under Squarcione at Padua and probably also under Vivarini at Venice. But he perfected a style and one marked by so many peculiarities that despite all affinities which may be traced with other masters he stands out clear and distinct by himself.

“In the first place, he is unique as a colorist. He belongs, indeed, to the old mosaic and illumination school of color, not to the school of ‘great schemes,’ in which the masses are blent into one great harmony. The masses, or patches, of color are isolated and produce a pleasant variegation without fusion. His color is thin, also, as of a superficial tinting, not affecting the substance. His flesh is hard and opaque, his flowers leathery, his fruit, though finely drawn and beautifully colored, of a stony texture, his draperies anything but soft. It is only in hard smooth things, like pottery and glass, that you get the true consistency as well as the true color. Yet his color is exquisite of its kind, brilliant and transparent like enamel, and the different tints in themselves are lovely and varied. Such reds and greens and lilacs and salmon-pinks and a hundred other combinations of the primaries are scarcely to be matched in the work of any other artist. Nor has anyone been more skillful in the use of gold in connection with color.

“There is scarcely any need to call attention to Crivelli’s special gift as a designer of decoration. Almost every square inch of his canvas attests the inexhaustible richness of his invention—an invention fed no doubt from the rich products of Oriental looms of which Venice was the emporium.

“Crivelli wrought only for the Church and appears to have spent[126] most of his life at Ascoli, but neither restriction of subject and feeling, nor provincial residence, could fetter his genius. There is, indeed, no artist of more striking individuality than Carlo Crivelli, no one who had more complete mastery over his means of expression, or attained more nearly to his ideal. This ideal was not the ‘beau ideal’—that is to say, the perfection of physical beauty—it was an ideal of character, the embodiment of the essential qualities of his subject. One cannot help regarding Crivelli as a man of knowledge and intellect, of charming manners, refined almost to fastidiousness, delighting in all things dainty and beautiful, a lover of animals and of his kind.”

This picture, an oil painting on panel (38 × 17 inches), came from the Benson Collection, having been previously in the Collection of Mr. G. H. Marland (sold in 1863), and in the Collection of Mr. William Graham (sold in 1886). The Virgin, a small full-length figure, is seated on a red and white marble throne, wearing a pale-red robe and a gold brocade mantle lined with green carried up over the head, which is adorned with a white veil. The Holy Child, standing on her lap, has on a gold dress and a white sash. Behind these two figures there is a hanging of pale-red, watered silk and behind the throne again there is a gold hanging with the pomegranate pattern. The Holy Child turns to the right in the act of blessing. On the step of the throne, which has a conspicuous crack, two pears[16] are lying; and they have attracted[128] a fly. The step is inscribed: “Carolvs Crivellvs Venetvs Pinsit, 1472.”

Collection of Mr. A. W. Erickson

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Crivelli

“The effect is archaic and almost Byzantine,” G. McNeil Rushforth writes in his Carlo Crivelli (London, 1900), “but its merits are very great.” “Though on a comparatively small scale the decorative effect is superb. The Child’s head is heavy and inferior to that of the Virgin, but the action is lively and realistic. The great charm, however, of the picture is the Virgin. Her features are not beautiful and the drawing of the hands might be criticized. But if ever grace and dignity were conceived and executed by Crivelli, they are here. Preëminently does this Virgin possess all that we understand by distinction. Taken separately, the turn of the head and the action of the fingers might be called affected. But they do not offend as parts of the whole, so perfectly has the artist defined the ideal that was before his mind. A curious feature in the picture is the treatment of the drapery. The folds of the brocaded mantle are more elaborate than anything which Crivelli had yet attempted, and they are expressed by clear-cut lines without any shadow.”

#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Carlo Crivelli | Collection of
(1430?–1493?). | Mr. Philip Lehman.

This beautiful picture belongs to Crivelli’s greatest period, when the artist had reached the height of his powers, had attained perfect command of the problems of composition, and had gained the technique to represent those materials he delighted in,—such as brocades, marbles, and garlands of fruit, which he always combined with such decorative beauty. Roger Fry says of this picture: “It has, in a supreme degree, the delicacy and the almost metallic incisiveness of Crivelli’s contour as well as the firmness and brilliance of his painting. The Madonna supporting the Child upon her right arm, is seated in one of those sumptuous Renaissance thrones, which Crivelli loved to elaborate with every conceivable ingenuity of invention. Though the forms are intended to be Classic, it is evident from the proportions of the[130] mouldings and something in the character of the detail that Crivelli is still essentially an old Venetian artist, one who uses Classical conventions with a Gothic exuberance.

Collection of Mr. Philip Lehman

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Crivelli

“This is a work of Crivelli’s prime. Indeed, it would be hard to name another design in which he shows quite such mastery as he does here. There is hardly another work in which the sequence of lines is so suave, its flow so uninterrupted, or in which the movements of the figures harmonize so perfectly. It is already almost a cinque-cento work as regards the amplitude of its forms and the breadth of its divisions. One notes, for instance, that the fruits hanging on the throne are even more enlarged and more massed than usual, so that the quantities of relief support and carry out the relief of the figures in a remarkable manner. Much of the earlier intensity of feeling has undoubtedly gone. This has none of the strange, brooding pathos of the early Madonnas, nor has it the sharp individual accent of their faces. The works with which it appears to be most akin are the Vatican Madonna and the Triptych in the Brera, both of 1482.”

#### THE VIRGIN AND CHILD WITH ST. LUCY, ST. CATHERINE, ST. PETER AND ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.

Giovanni Bellini | Collection of
(1428–30–1516). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

This is the type of group picture known as a “Holy Conversation” and represents the Virgin and Child with Saints. It seems to have been painted when Bellini was between seventy-two and seventy-seven years of age and between the years 1500 and 1505.

The figures are three-quarter length and under life-size and the picture, which is an oil painting on canvas, measures 38 × 60 inches. The Virgin is seated in the centre with a dark-grey curtain behind her and a marble balustrade in front of her. She wears a rose-colored tunic and a blue mantle lined with a changeable green and yellow silk. The Holy Child leans back against her right arm. On her right stands St. Catherine with a rope of pearls twisted in her hair and St. Lucy, on her left, wearing a myrtle wreath and holding a tall standing-cup of[132] Venetian glass. St. John the Baptist, wearing a green mantle, stands on the right, looking downward with bended head; and St. Peter, in orange-brown cloak with book and key, stands on the left. A very decorative effect is derived from the palm-branches, which curve upwards into the top corners of the picture. A range of distant hills appears in the background and on the cartellino on the balustrade is the signature in script, “Ioannes Bellinus.”

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

THE VIRGIN AND CHILD WITH ST. LUCY, ST. CATHERINE, ST. PETER AND ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

—Giovanni Bellini

Authority for dating the picture is derived from the fact that the features of St. Lucy reappear in the San Zaccaria altar-piece, which is dated 1505, and the features of St. John the Baptist occur in the Baptism of Christ in Santa Corona, Vicenza, supposed to have been begun in 1500.

The picture came from the Benson Collection, having been formerly in the Wynn Ellis Collection and in the Collection of Mr. William Graham.

The date of Giovanni Bellini’s birth is not known. He was working with his brother, Gentile, in his father’s studio in Padua and was painting in Venice in 1464, where he produced two pictures for the Scuola di San Girolamo. In 1475 he met Antonello da Messina, who came to Venice, and seems to have adopted then his method of painting in oil. In 1479, when Gentile Bellini went to Constantinople, Giovanni was appointed to carry on his work in the Doge’s Palace; and when Gentile returned the two brothers worked together. Giovanni was essentially a religious painter and his Madonnas stand among the finest ever created. Most of his portraits are lost; but one, the Doge Loredano (in the National Gallery, London), ranks as one of the finest of all known portraits. This dates from 1501, painted when Giovanni was over eighty! Giovanni died in 1516.

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#### THE VIRGIN AND CHILD.

Giovanni Bellini | Collection of
(1428–30–1516). | Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas F. Brady.

The Madonna at half-length turned towards the left, supports the Holy Child with both arms as He reclines in her lap against her right knee, which is raised. She is dressed in a blue mantle arranged to form a hood, with embroidered border. A graceful white veil, also embroidered, covers the head and falls below the neck.

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas F. Brady

THE VIRGIN AND CHILD

—Giovanni Bellini

The Holy Child gazes upward into his mother’s face and she, with eyes slightly veiled by drooping lids, looks tenderly downward towards him. The background is hilly, with a castle on the left. The picture, oil on a panel (28¾ × 23¾) is signed “Joannes Bellinus.”

This Bellini Madonna comes from the Collection of the Grand Dukes of Oldenburg, Oldenburg Castle, near Bremen, Germany, and was also formerly in the Collection of Count Montija in Madrid. Much has been written about Bellini’s Madonnas. They differ greatly from those painted by the Florentines; and the following sympathetic note tells us why:

“If we turn to the religious art of Venice, we shall be struck by a lack of anything like mystic rapture, or absorption in the sufferings of Christ. We have but two examples in Venice of Bellini’s portrayal of the facts of Christ’s mature life, but he has treated the theme of the Madonna and Child with a unique profundity. The mystery of life seems to be shadowed in the face of the Madonna; his saints and apostles, so striking in their individuality, so virile in their piety, have a significance beyond their perfect act of worship. No Venetian religious painter before Tintoretto equalled Bellini in solemnity and depth of conception; but in all we find the same pervading calm, the same absence of tumult, or the disturbing elements of pain or agony.”[17] Is it not the quietness of Bellini’s Madonnas that give them their peculiar charm?

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#### MADONNA AND CHILD.

Giovanni Bellini | Collection of
(1428–30–1516). | Mr. Philip Lehman.

This picture came from the Collection of Prince Potenziani, of Rieti, Italy, and represents the Virgin standing behind a parapet and supporting the Holy Child who is standing upon it. Her mantle and tunic are decorated with a border of embroidery and over the mantle falls her heavy white veil which might be described as a hood, showing a little of her wavy hair. The face of the Virgin is a perfect oval, her eyes are set far apart, her nose is long and aquiline, and her mouth a little discontented. Her arm and wrist are beautifully modelled and so is the thumb of her right hand. This hand is noticeably wide. The left hand does not seem to match the right; it is coarser. The Holy Child is leaning against His mother’s left shoulder and looking out of the picture. He wears a little tunic over a white shirt with sleeves and a wide, blue sash with a striped pattern. A close-fitting cap is tied with ribbons under His chin. His right hand is lifted in blessing and His left is clasping the fingers of His mother’s right hand. On the right of the parapet a crystal ball is lying and on the left a capsicum-pod, and behind the Madonna’s head hangs a heavy swag of capsicum. The landscape in the background is noticeably fine. On the left, a road winds through trees to the gates of a city with high Gothic towers; on the right, a river flows past hills crowned with castles. Clouds fill the sky. The nimbi are quite unusual. This is evidently an early work and not a little of Mantegna’s influence is apparent in it.

Collection of Mr. Philip Lehman

MADONNA AND CHILD

—Giovanni Bellini

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#### THE FEAST OF THE GODS.

(Il Baccanale.)

Giovanni Bellini | Collection of
(1428–30–1516). | Mr. Joseph E. Widener.

“In the year 1514”—this is Vasari’s narrative—“Duke Alfonso of Ferrara had caused a little chamber to be decorated and had commissioned Dosso, the painter of Ferrara, to execute in certain compartments stories of Æneas, Mars, and Venus and, in a grotto, Vulcan with two smiths at the forge; and he desired that there should also be there pictures by the hand of Gian Bellini. Bellini painted on another wall a vat of red wine with some Bacchanale around it and Satyrs, musicians and other men and women all drunk with wine, and near them a nude and very beautiful Silenus riding on his ass, with figures about him that have their hands full of fruits and grapes; which work was in truth executed and colored with great diligence, inasmuch that it is one of the most beautiful pictures that Gian Bellini ever painted, although in the manner of the draperies there is a certain sharpness after the German manner (nothing, indeed, of any account) because he imitated a picture by the Fleming,[18] Albrecht Dürer, which had been brought in those days to Venice and placed in the Church of S. Bartolommeo, a rare work and full of most beautiful figures painted in oils. On that vat Gian Bellini wrote these words: ‘Joannes Bellinus Venetus P. 1514.’ That work he was not able to finish completely, because he was old, and Tiziano, as the most excellent of all the others, was sent for to the end that he might finish it.”

Titian’s work is to be found in the landscape-background,—which is an exact view of Titian’s own Cadore. This landscape, with its valley and rocky hill surmounted by a castle with towers, bathed in warm, luminous light, was the finest that had ever been painted up to that time. Bellini only lived two years after painting The Feast of the Gods. In 1515 he painted the so-called Venus of the Belvedere and he died in the following year.

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“So easy is the passage from Bellini’s art to Titian’s, that the transition creates no contrast. The tone throughout is harmonized, and the art of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries meets and mingles in perfect fellowship,” Crowe and Cavalcaselle note.

This picture, an oil painting on canvas (67 × 74 inches) came from the Collection of the Duke of Northumberland at Alnwick Castle, England, having been previously in the Collection of Cardinal Pietro Aldobrandini and in that of Cardinal Ludovico Ludovisi, Rome.

These two villas, upon whose walls The Feast of the Gods hung for so many years, are very celebrated. The Villa Aldobrandini is one of the most notable residences near Rome. It is situated on the slope of a mountain overlooking Frascati and was built by Cardinal Pietro Aldobrandini, who entrusted its decoration to the most eminent artists of his day, such as Jacopo della Porta, Domenichino, Giuseppe Gesari, and Giovanni Fontana. Here, too, were gathered the most precious relics of ancient art, while the gardens, adorned with vases, statues, colonnades, and sparkling fountains, made the exterior a place of marvellous beauty and charm. The view of mountains and sea suggested the name of Belvedere. The Villa belongs to-day to the Borghese family, who inherited it from the Aldobrandini.

Collection of Mr. Joseph E. Widener

FEAST OF THE GODS

—Giovanni Bellini

The Villa Ludovisi, frequently called the Piombino Palace, is situated on the site of the ancient gardens of Sallust. This palace was erected in 1622 by Cardinal Ludovico Ludovisi, nephew of Pope Gregory XV, who selected Domenichino for his architect and the famous Le Nôtre for his landscape-gardener. The property passed by inheritance to the Princess of Piombino (Buonocampagni-Ludovisi).

Art-lovers know the name in connection with the colossal and magnificent head of the Juno Ludovisi (Fifth Century, B. C.); and it will be remembered that the Juno Ludovisi and other antiques from the Villa Ludovisi formed the Museo Buonocompagni.

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#### THE VIRGIN AND CHILD.

Titian | Collection of
(1477?–1576). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

The Virgin, in profile, seated on a stone seat, has auburn hair—“Titian hair”—which is relieved against a dark-green curtain. Her robe is pale rose-color with slashes of white and her mantle of cobalt blue like the landscape, “which resembles the sea at midday.” She also wears a white veil. She is looking with great tenderness at the Holy Child, lying at full length on her lap and smiling at her.

The composition is most beautiful and the introduction of the trees gives perpendicular lines which contrast delightfully with the general horizontal effects.

Lionel Cust calls it a picture of great charm, as indeed it is, and says: “The Virgin leans tenderly over the Child lying upon her knees. This composition is treated in the same manner as the picture at Bergamo, the Virgin and Child with St. Bridgit and St. Ulphus, in the Prado at Madrid, and a few others. In all of these works the sentiment is that of Giorgione, even though the execution is of the hand of Titian; and one could not think of attaching another name than his to this picture and to that at Madrid. It will be noticed also that the two tree-trunks, so much in evidence at the back of the picture, constitute a leit-motiv, which Giorgione first employed and which Titian imitated.”

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

THE VIRGIN AND CHILD

—Titian

Herbert F. Cook in his Giorgione (London, 1907), gives this painting to Giorgione, sustaining the claim by the following: “The marble parapet is a feature in Giorgione’s work, but not in Titian’s. But the most convincing evidence to those who know the master lies in the composition, which forms an almost equilateral triangle, revealing Giorgione’s supreme sense of beauty in line. The splendid curves made by the drapery, the pose of the Child, so as to obtain the same unbroken sweep of line, reveal the painter of the Dresden Venus. The painting of the Child’s hand over the Madonna’s is precisely as in the Madrid picture, where, moreover, the pose of the Child is singularly[142][141] alike. The folds of drapery on the sleeve recur in the same picture, the landscape with the small figure seated beneath the tree is such as can be found in any Giorgione background. The oval of the face and the delicacy of the features are thoroughly characteristic, as is the spirit of calm reverie and tender simplicity which Giorgione has breathed into his figures.”

Whether by Titian, or by Giorgione, or by both, the painting is a gem. If by Giorgione, it would be even more valuable, as this master is so rare.

The painting, oil on panel (18 × 22 inches), came from the Benson Collection and was formerly at Burghley House, Stamford, Northamptonshire, having been acquired in Italy between 1690 and 1700 by the Earl of Exeter.

Tiziano Vecellio was born about 1477 at Pieve di Cadore, the son of Gregorio Vecelli, and was taken to Venice at the age of ten and apprenticed to a mosaic-worker. After this he studied in Giovanni Bellini’s bottega, where he had for a fellow-pupil, Giorgione, with whom he was associated in decorating the Fondaco dei Tedeschi. Titian visited Padua, Rome, and, in 1516, Ferrara. Commissions of all kinds followed rapidly and Titian became the most famous painter of his time. He lived in splendid style and his long life was filled with magnificent painting and magnificent results. Titian died of the Plague in 1576.

In his long life, crowned with every kind of success, Titian painted with superlative skill every sort of subject. Titian was one of the greatest masters the world has ever known.

“In attempting to picture Titian,” writes Taine, “we imagine a happy man, the happiest and the healthiest of his species, Heaven having bestowed upon him nothing but favors and felicities: the first among his rivals; visited in his house by the Kings of France and Poland; a favorite of the Emperor, of Philip II, of the Doges, of Pope Paul III, of all the Italian princes; created a knight and a count of the Empire; overwhelmed with orders; liberally paid, pensioned, and worthily enjoying his good fortune. He kept house in great state, dressed himself splendidly, and entertained at his table cardinals, lords, the greatest artists and the ablest writers of his day. Beauty,[143] taste, cultivation, and talent play and reflect back upon him, as if from a mirror the brightness of his own genius. His brother, his son, Orazio, his two cousins, Cesare and Fabrizio, and his relative, Marco di Tiziano, were all excellent painters. His daughter, Lavinia, dressed as Flora, with a basket of fruit on her head, supplied him with a model of fresh complexion and ample form. His talent flows on like a great river in its bed, nothing disturbs its course, and its own increase is sufficient. Like Leonardo and Michelangelo, Titian sees nothing outside of his art.”

#### CATERINA CORNARO, QUEEN OF CYPRUS.

Titian | Collection of
(1477–1576). | Mr. John Ringling.

Proud and handsome this famous Queen and beauty looks down upon us from the centuries. She is wearing a dress of gold and green striped velvet with a pink camelia at her neck and one of those fashionable, tall, sugar-loaf head-dresses—called in France the hennin—with jewelled band around the rim and a floating veil. Very beautifully are her pearls painted; and, fastened by a chain to a bracelet on her left wrist, is a pet chameleon.

This portrait, oils on canvas (43 × 38 inches), came from the Ricardi Palace, Florence, and from the Collection of R. S. Holford, Esq., Dorchester House.

Caterina Cornaro, “La Reine de Chypre,” famous in song and story, was the daughter of Marco Cornaro, a noble Venetian and descendant of the Doge of the same name, and Florence, daughter of Niccolò Crispo, Duca dell’ Archipelago. Caterina was born in Venice in 1454, educated at the Convent of San Benedetto in Padua, and reared in all the wealth and elegance of the time. At an early age she was married to the King of Cyprus, Jerusalem, and Armenia (Jacques de Lusignan), who chose her from sixty-two of the most beautiful women of Venice. The Senate, having adopted Caterina Cornaro as a daughter of the Republic, gave her a dowry of a hundred thousand golden ducats and agreed to defend the Kingdom of Cyprus against all enemies.

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The wedding took place by proxy in Venice in 1472 and was celebrated with great magnificence. The Doge, himself, Cristoforo Moro, called for the bride at her palace in the Bucentaur and accompanied her to the Venetian ship in which she embarked with a regal suite for her new home. After experiencing several accidents at sea, the beautiful Venetian lady arrived in Cyprus, where her rare beauty and charming manners captivated the entire population. Within two years her husband died and Caterina then reigned over Cyprus for fourteen years, subject, however, to the strict surveillance of Venice. At last, wearied by restrictions and intrigues, the Queen of Cyprus in 1489 returned to Venice with her beloved brother, Giorgio Cornaro, and made a solemn transfer of all her claims in Cyprus to the Doge.

Caterina then went to Frattalonga, situated at the foot of the Asolani mountains, to meet the Emperor Maximilian, who was on his way home from Milan to Vienna; and the place pleased her so much that she obtained from the Doge, Agostino Barbarigo, the investiture of Asolo and its district. A few months later—in October 1489—Caterina returned to Asolo with a suite of four thousand persons and established a Court in the Castle, where she lived for twenty-one years, protected by troops granted to her by the Republic of Venice. In this beautiful residence Caterina was said to have held three Courts—that of the Muses; that of Love; and that of her own, which was of great magnificence. The leading spirit there was the celebrated poet, Pietro Bembo, (in later years Cardinal Bembo), who wrote his famous dialogues of love, Gli Asolani, here in 1490, for the superb marriage festivities of one of Caterina’s maids-of-honor. Every illustrious personage of the period visited the Court at Asolo.

Collection of Mr. John Ringling

CATERINA CORNARO

QUEEN OF CYPRUS

—Titian

During the wars occasioned by the League of Cambrai (1508), Caterina returned for safety to Venice and died there in 1510, in the palace of her brother, Giorgio, who was then procurator of St. Mark’s.

Titian painted several other portraits of Caterina Cornaro, of which the one in the Uffizi is the most famous, representing the Queen of Cyprus with her golden crown studded with large pearls and an over-dress or coat of rich green brocade.

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#### GIORGIO CORNARO WITH FALCON.

Titian | Collection of
(1489–1576). | Mr. A. W. Erickson.

We have here a famous Venetian statesman and general of the Sixteenth Century, beloved brother of Caterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus (see page 143), representing him probably in the habit he liked best of all—that of a sportsman with his pet falcon. Here he stands, three quarters to the right, in a slate-colored hunting coat with brown fur collar and with a black belt at the waist from which hangs a sword, bound with a crimson sash. His curly hair and beard are chestnut color and his eyes are very bright. His head is raised and he looks intently at his falcon perched upon his left gloved hand, with hood, bill and jacket attached, and with his right hand grasps the bird’s breast.

From the left hand corner the head of a white, liver-spotted hound looks up. The background is dark. The painting, an oil on canvas (43 × 38 inches) was formerly in the Collections of the Carignan branch of the Royal House of Piedmont; Louis François de Bourbon, Prince de Conti; the Earl of Carlisle, Castle Howard, Yorkshire, England; and Dr. Edward Simon, Berlin. Crowe and Cavalcaselle in their Life and Times of Titian (London, 1881) say of this work: “Titian never produced a finer picture than which now adorns the gallery of Castle Howard. This beautiful work is modelled with all the richness of tone and smoothness of surface which distinguishes polished flesh. The attitude is natural, the complexion warm and embrowned by the sun; and every part is blended with the utmost finish without producing want of flexibility.”

Collection of Mr. A. W. Erickson

GIORGIO CORNARO WITH FALCON

—Titian

Giorgio Cornaro succeeded his father, Marco Cornaro in 1479, he being about twenty-five. Italian historians are fond of attributing the Victory of Cadore to Giorgio Cornaro, who lived until 1527, having played an important part all his life in Venetian politics.

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#### MAXIMILIAN SFORZA, DUKE OF MILAN.

Bartolommeo Veneto | Collection of
(1480–1555). | Mr. Henry Goldman.

This portrait, oil on panel (30⅞ × 23¼ inches), was formerly in the Palazzo Sforza and later hung in the Casa Perego, Milan, until the entire Casa Perego Collection was bought in the early Nineteenth Century by Senator Crespi of Rome, in whose gallery it remained until the Crespi Collection was sold. It is doubly interesting as a work of art and as the representation of an important character in Italian history. Bernhard Berenson calls it “one of the most manly portraits and one of the most beautiful paintings of the Italian Renaissance.”

The half-length figure is seen almost full front, but the head is turned slightly to the left. All the Italian Renaissance seems to be expressed in this proud, distinguished person and in his rich dress, which consists of a coat of green velvet trimmed with bands of gold, a finely embroidered white shirt, black waistcoat with horizontal gold stripes and a rich fur collar, which he clasps with his right hand on the index finger of which is a handsome ring. His dark hair falls to the shoulders and is surmounted by a black velvet cap, on the side of which is a gold and enamelled medal showing an allegorical female figure with the date 1512, of the kind that all the fashionable gentlemen were wearing at that period. A red curtain falls behind the figure and on the wall hangs a picture in which are introduced figures from Dürer’s famous woodcut, The Knight and the Lansquenet. In front of the sitter is a narrow ledge, or balustrade, with a card in the centre, which originally carried the signature of Bartolommeo Veneto.

MAXIMILIAN SFORZA

—Bartolommeo Veneto

Maximilian Sforza was the son of Ludovico Sforza, “Il Moro,” Duke of Milan, the most illustrious prince of Italy, and Beatrice d’Este, one of the most fascinating and brilliant women of the Italian Renaissance. Maximilian was born on January 25, 1493, in the Castello of Milan, and was named Ercole out of compliment to his grandfather, Duke Ercole of Ferrara. He was brought up in the most brilliant of Courts and his education and training were of the very best. His[150] mother was devoted to him and constantly mentions him in her letters. Ercole appears in the great altar-piece attributed to Zenale, now in the Brera, kneeling by the side of his father. The portrait of this little child must be a good one, for we see the same face grown older in the Veneto portrait before us. On the altar-piece, just mentioned, Ercole’s younger brother kneels by the side of Beatrice d’Este. It was during a visit of the Emperor Maximilian to Ludovico and his wife in 1496 that Ercole received his new name. The Emperor, again charmed by Beatrice, took great interest in her two sons and requested that the elder should be called Maximilian.

But the brilliant days passed and sorrows came. The beautiful, gifted mother died in January, 1497, and the French invaded Milan. Ludovico determined to seek safety in flight and sent his two sons to Germany under the care of his brother, Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, Cardinal Sanseverino, and their kinswoman, Camilla Sforza. “A truly piteous and heart-breaking sight it was,” wrote an eye-witness, “to see these poor children embrace their beloved father, whose face was wet with their tears.” Twenty mules laden with baggage and a large chariot drawn by eight horses and containing Ludovico’s precious jewels and 240,000 gold ducats followed in the train of the young princes. These young gentlemen never saw their father again, for “Il Moro” was captured, taken to Paris, and imprisoned in the castle of Loches, where he died in 1508.

An Italian writer, Marino Sanuto, exclaimed on the terrible fate of Ludovico: “Only think, reader, what grief and shame so great and glorious a lord, who had been held to be the wisest of monarchs and ablest of rulers, must have felt at losing so splendid a state in these few days, without a single stroke of the sword. Let those who are in high places take warning, considering the miserable fall of this lord, who was held by many to be the greatest prince in the world, and let them remember that when Fortune sets you on the top of her wheel, she may at any moment bring you to the ground.”

The rest of the story is well told in Mrs. Cartwright’s Beatrice d’Este (London, 1889):

“Meanwhile Beatrice’s sons grew up at Innsbrück, under the care[151] of their cousin, the Empress Bianca. It was a melancholy life for these young princes, born in the purple and reared in all the luxury and culture of Milan. And when their cousin, Bianca, died in 1510, they lost their best friend. But a sudden and unexpected turn of the tide brought them once more to the front. That warlike pontiff, Julius II, who, as Cardinal della Rovere, had been one of the chief instruments in bringing the French into Italy, entered into a league with Maximilian to expel them and reinstate the son of the hated Moro on the throne of Milan. They succeeded so well that in 1512, four years after Ludovico’s death at Loches, young Maximilian Sforza entered Milan in triumph amidst the enthusiastic applause of the people. Once more he rode up to the gates of the Castello, where he was born, and took up his abode there as reigning duke. But his rule over Lombardy was short. A handsome, gentle youth, without either his father’s talents or his mother’s high spirit, Maximilian was destined to become a passive tool in the hands of stronger and more powerful men. His weakness and incapacity soon became apparent, and when, three years later, the new French King, Francis I, invaded the Milanese and defeated the Italian army at Marignano, the young duke signed an act of abdication and consented to spend the rest of his life in France. There he lived in honorable captivity, content with a pension allowed him by King Francis and with the promise of a Cardinal’s hat held out to him by the Pope, until he died in May, 1530.”

Bartolommeo Veneto (or Bartolommeo Veneziano), born in 1480, was a pupil of Giovanni Bellini, whose influence is apparent in Veneto’s early pictures. In 1506–1508 Veneto was painting for Lucrezia Borgia in Ferrara and after that he was engaged at the Court of Milan, where he painted this portrait of Maximilian Sforza. The picture bears the date 1512, which was the year the young Duke returned to Milan.

Bartolommeo Veneto was famous for his portraits. He lived for sometime in Lombardy and, like all the painters of the time and place, fell under the influence of Leonardo da Vinci. As the last trace of him appears on a portrait in the Uffizi, dated 1555, it is supposed that Veneto died in that year.

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#### A SCENE ALONG THE ADRIATIC COAST.

Francesco Guardi | Collection of
(1712–1793). | Mrs. Charles B. Alexander.

Guardi, a pupil of Canaletto, devoted himself to the study of his native city, Venice, where he was born in 1712 and where he painted steadily until his death in 1793. Guardi ranks with Canaletto and Turner as one of the three greatest painters of the “Dream City” as Charles Dickens called Venice. In Guardi’s long list of pictures we have a perfect history in paint of the “Queen of the Adriatic” during the Eighteenth Century. There are innumerable views of the Grand Canal; of both the exterior and the interior of San Marco; of San Giorgio, the Salute, San Zaccaria, and other churches; of the Fondaco dei Tedeschi (the German banking-house); the Doges Palace; the Piazza and the Piazzetta; scenes on the outlying islands; views on the Lagoons; and pictures of processions of the Doges and of festivals of the church. The picture presented here shows a scene outside of Venice, but not far away; and it is a beautiful and characteristic work of Guardi, both as to composition and color. The painting came from the Collection of the Baron Maurice de Rothschild of Paris to its present owner, Mrs. Charles B. Alexander of New York.

[153]

Collection of Mrs. Charles B. Alexander

A SCENE ALONG THE ADRIATIC COAST

—Francesco Guardi

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## FLEMISH PAINTING

Flemish Painting in the Fourteenth Century was based on the miniature-painting that illustrated the Mediæval manuscripts: indeed, many of the early paintings look like enlarged versions of the little pictures that adorn the vellum pages of missals and old romans. The early painters were influenced by the School of Cologne until the two Van Eycks (Hubert, 1366–1426, and Jan, 1380–1441), by their marvellous painting and by the followers they attracted, raised Flemish Art into importance and gave it a standing by itself as the School of Bruges.

Little is known of the lives of these painters except that they stood high in the favor of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, who frequently sent Jan on missions to foreign countries, and that the brothers painted the great and famous altar-piece, the Adoration of the Lamb, for the Cathedral of St. Bavon in Ghent. This great work, which is one of the most celebrated of all altar-pieces, is a landmark in the history of painting. It may be said to have inaugurated the Flemish School; and it marks an innovation as well. This Adoration of the Lamb was ordered by Jodocus Vydts, a burgomaster of Ghent, and his wife, Isabella Borluut, for their mortuary chapel in the Cathedral of St. Bavon; and Van Mander relates that when it was finished “swarms of people” came to gaze upon it; but, as the wings were closed except on special festivals, “few but the high-born and those who could afford to pay the custos saw it.” It must be remembered that at this period changes were also taking place in Italy under Gentile de Fabriano, Pisanello, and Masaccio. Whether the Van Eycks invented oil-painting or not, they had much to do with perfecting the process and influencing others to the use of the new method.

The Van Eycks had as pupils and followers all the Flemish and German painters of the day and their influence was even felt in Italy, where their pictures sold for their weight in gold.

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In 1425 Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, took Jan van Eyck into his service as painter and “varlet de chambre;” and Jan, thereafter, seems to have spent his life at the Court, painting portraits and designing variously, going on embassies for the Duke, and painting in Bruges and in Lille. As a portrait-painter Jan van Eyck is ranked with Dürer, Holbein, Raphael, Titian, Van Dyck, and the other great ones in this line. Undoubtedly, Jan van Eyck moved about a good deal through the Duke of Burgundy’s immense domain, which included all the Low Countries and a great part of what is now France.

We are apt to think of these early painters who laid the foundations of modern art as living in a much simpler day than our own. It is true that in the Fifteenth Century the Middle Ages were still holding their own in Flanders—the Renaissance moved very slowly northward—but it was a time of great prosperity and great luxury, especially in the Burgundian country.

Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, son of the King of France, was the most luxurious prince of his time. His titles show his power. He was Duke of Burgundy, of Brabant, of Lothier and of Luxembourg; Count of Flanders, of Artois, and of Burgundy; Palatine of Hainault, of Holland, of Zeeland, of Namur, and of Charolais; Marquis of the Holy Empire; and Lord of Friesland, of Salins, and of Mechlin. The House of Burgundy, therefore, by its inheritances, alliances and conquests, had attained such power as even to overshadow the French throne. Philip the Good (1396–1467) was even more luxurious than his grandfather, Philip the Bold. His Court was unequalled in Europe and was subject to the strictest rules of etiquette. His palaces in Brussels, Dijon, and Paris were sumptuously furnished and his collections of tapestries, gold-work, silver-work, jewels, embroideries, illuminated manuscripts, and printed books excited the admiration of such travellers and chroniclers as were privileged to see them and who, fortunately for us, have left accounts for us to read. At this period, too, the Flemings were the great craftsmen of Europe and they produced every kind of article required for the tastes and comfort of the wealthy Burgundians. Brussels and Dijon became veritable Meccas for Mediæval[159] artists, while Bruges, Tournay, Arras, Ypres, Ghent, and Dinant held a welcome for any able craftsman or artist, who, driven from England, France, or Italy by the civil wars, sought refuge and work.

And there was plenty of work to be done!

Artistic designs of all kinds were needed for tapestry-workers, for the goldsmiths and silversmiths, for the furniture-makers, and for craftsmen busy in making articles for household use or for personal decoration. Moreover, for the great entertainments, such as weddings, receptions of princes, or celebrations in honor of the Knights of the Golden Fleece, and other important functions, a veritable army of painters, sculptors, illuminators, carvers, and machinists was needed to design, plan, and execute the entremets exhibited during the banquets and the grand decorations erected in the streets through which the processions passed.

We shall gain a better idea of the spirit of early Flemish Art if we pause for a moment to look into the palace at Lille, in 1454, when Philip the Good was celebrating the “Feast of the Pheasant.” The large hall was hung with tapestry representing the Labors of Hercules. The dressoir of enormous size was adorned with magnificent gold and silver vessels and there were three large tables, splendidly laden with viands artistically decorated. One of the guests wrote: “On a raised platform at the head of the first table sat the Duke. He was arrayed in his accustomed splendor—his dress of black velvet serving as a dark ground that heightened the brilliancy of the precious stones, valued at a million of gold crowns, with which it was profusely decked. Among the guests was a numerous body of knights, who had passed the morning in the tilting-field, and fair Flemish ladies, whose flaunting beauty had inspired these martial sports. Each course was composed of forty-four dishes, which were placed on chariots painted in gold and azure and which were moved along the tables by concealed machinery. As soon as the company was seated, the bells began to peal from the steeple of a huge pastry church with stained windows that concealed an organ and choir of singers; and three little choristers issued from the edifice and sang a very sweet chanson. Twenty-eight musicians,[160] hidden in a mammoth pie,[19] performed on various instruments and the fine viands and wines were circulated.”

After the exhibition of entremets, the pheasant was brought in, the Crusade proclaimed against the Sultan, and the vows registered.

It is safe to conjecture that Hubert and Jan van Eyck were among the painters who were employed to design the entremets, triumphal arches, and curiosities executed in pastry and in confections made of sugar, as well as to paint portraits of distinguished Flemings and altar-pieces for their churches.

The Flemish Primitives certainly had many occasions to feast their eyes upon magnificence!

John Paston, who went to Bruges to attend Charles the Bold’s second marriage in 1468 to Margaret of York, was overwhelmed and dazed by what he saw. “Nothing was like it save King Arthur’s Court,” he wrote home. The streets were hung with tapestries and cloth-of-gold, triumphal arches were erected and at intervals along her way the bride was entertained by “Histories,” the joint production of painters, decorators, dramatists, and machinists. The banquet-hall was superbly decorated and the chroniclers say “lighted by chandeliers in the form of castles surrounded by forest and mountains with revolving paths on which serpents, dragons, and other monstrous animals seemed to roam in search of prey, spouting forth jets of flame that were reflected in huge mirrors, so arranged as to catch and multiply the rays. The dishes containing the principal meats were ships, seven feet long and completely rigged, the masts and cordage gilt, the sails and streamers of silk, each floating in a silver lake between shores of verdure and enamelled rocks and attended by a fleet of boats laden with[161] lemons, oranges, and condiments. There were thirty of these vessels and as many huge pastries in the shape of castles with banners waving from their battlements and towers; besides tents and pavilions for the fruit; jelly-dishes of crystal supported by figures of the same material dispensing streams of lavender and rose-water; and an immense profusion of gold and silver plate.”

When Charles the Bold was killed on the battlefield of Nancy (1477), a New Era was about to dawn. America was soon to be discovered; Vasco da Gama was to find an ocean route to the East Indies; the Moors were to be expelled from Spain; the Wars of the Roses were to end in England; Ferdinand and Isabella were to marry their daughter, the “mad Joanna,” to Philip the Fair of Austria, heir through his mother, Mary of Burgundy, to the Burgundian dominions (the issue being Charles V, born in Ghent in 1500). Of still more importance to the world of Art than these important events was the discovery of Italy by the French, who crossed the Alps with Charles VIII. The French were dazzled by what they saw in Italy. On their return the Renaissance in France and the Netherlands may be said to have begun to blossom. The ground had already been prepared by the art-loving Dukes of Burgundy.

Let us return, however, to the Bruges painters:

“The rise of the School was aided by the Fourteenth Century Art of Cologne best shown in the work of Meister Wilhelm. The Art of the movement was, for the period, strongly realistic. Natural objects were painted with the utmost fidelity, interest in still-life and genre begin to appear, and details of architecture and landscape were rendered as carefully as the heads of the most sacred personages in the compositions. So pronounced was this tendency that superficial observers are led to consider Flemish painting fundamentally material; but a thoughtful analysis will reveal a spirituality in the art quite as sincere, if not so obvious, as in the painting of contemporary Italy. In the early School, the painting was almost wholly religious, and scenes and actors were handled with reverence and deep feeling.

“The Flemings, however, inherited from earlier art a religious type to which they clung with great tenacity and which to the modern eye[162] is ugly. The exaggeratedly-domed forehead of the Madonna, a symbol of intellect to the Fleming, is to the modern a distortion. Similarly the tiny mouth, the eyes almost without brows,[20] and the other features which Flemish symbolism demanded, are now somewhat disturbing to the eye. When native realism and symbolism were coupled, as in the over realistic rendering of the ascetic Christ-Child, the effect is sometimes startling to the layman; and the beginner in the study of Flemish Art should beware of mistaking accidents of convention for artistic defects. If the conventions of Flemish Art make it at first difficult to appreciate, the technical perfection of the work must appeal to any one. Oil-painting, perfected if not necessarily invented in Flanders, gave a richness of color and a lustre of surface which specially distinguished the style. The play and delicate gradation of light over richly-colored surfaces was rendered so skillfully that the artists approached the expression of a complete visual effect, finally reached in Seventeenth Century Holland in the work of Vermeer.—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

Next in importance to the Van Eycks comes Roger van der Weyden (1400?–1464). By 1432 Roger had made a name for himself, for he had become a master painter in the Tournay Guild. In 1450 he went to Italy and seems to have visited Cologne on his way home (see page 166).

The Maître de Flémalle (Robert Campin?), who showed a great interest in still-life, is thought to have been the master of Roger van der Weyden. Petrus Christus (1410?–1473), a native of Baerle, Holland, free citizen of Bruges in 1444, is regarded as one of the ancestors of genre painting (see page 169).

Hans Memling (1430–5–1494), a native of Holland, was a supposed pupil of Roger van der Weyden. It is believed that Roger van der Weyden took Memling with him to Italy in 1450. Memling was closely associated with his master Roger van der Weyden and sometimes painted the wing-panels for Roger’s great altar-pieces. Memling’s chief painting was done in Bruges (see page 172).

Taine thus sums up the Flemish Primitives: “A Flemish Renaissance[163] underneath Christian ideas, such, indeed, is the two-fold nature of art under Hubert and Jan van Eyck, Roger van der Weyden, Memling, and Quentin Massys; and from these two characteristics proceed all the others. On the one hand, artists take interest in actual life; their figures are no longer symbols like the illuminations of ancient missals, nor purified spirits like the Madonnas of the School of Cologne but living beings and bodies. They attend to no anatomy, the perspective is exact, the minutest details are rendered regarding stuffs, architecture, accessories, and landscape; the relief is strong and the entire scene stamps itself on the eye and on the mind with extraordinary force and sense of stability; the greatest masters of coming times are not to surpass them in all this, nor even go so far. Nature is now discovered. The scales fall from their eyes; they have just mastered almost in a flash, the proportions, the structure, and the coloring of visible realities; and, moreover, they delight in them. Consider the superb copes wrought in gold and bedecked with diamonds, the embroidered silks, the flowered and dazzling diadems with which they ornament their saints and divine personages, all of whom represent the pomp of the Burgundian Court. Look at the calm and transparent water, the bright meadows, the red and white flowers, the blossoming trees and the sunny distances of their admirable landscapes. Observe their coloring—the strongest and richest ever seen, the pure and full tones side by side as in a Persian carpet and united solely through their harmony, the superb breaks in the folds of purple mantles, the deep azure of long, falling robes, the green draperies like a summer field permeated with sunshine, the display of gold skirts trimmed with black, the strong light which warms and enlivens the whole scene—and you have a concert in which each instrument sounds its proper note. They see the world on the bright side and make a holiday of it, a genuine fête, similar to those of this day, glowing under a more bounteous sunlight and not a heavenly Jerusalem suffused with supernatural radiance such as Fra Angelico painted. They are Flemings and they stick to the earth.”

Contemporary with Memling is Hugo Van der Goes (1430–1482), one of the last important figures in the Van Eyck School, more celebrated[164] in his day than in ours, but powerful and austere, and painter of an altar-piece in 1476 for Tommaso Portinari, which was placed in the Church of Santa Maria Nuova in Florence and was greatly admired by Ghirlandaio and Piero di Cosimo. With Gerard David (1450–1523), a follower of Memling and Massys, we leave the Flemish Primitives for a world of newer ideas.

Quentin Massys (1460–1530), creator of the Antwerp School, belongs to an intermediate epoch. He is herald of the Italianiate Flemings—Jan Mabuse, Bernard van Orley, Lambert Lombard, Jan Mostært, Bellegambe, Launcelot Blondeel, and others—all of whom, dazzled by the Renaissance, tried to combine their Flemish coldness with Italian grace. Some of them lived to see the triumph of Rubens and the rise of another School.

Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640), is the recognized head of the Flemish School of Painting. His power was felt throughout Europe and he had more influence on taste in the Seventeenth Century than any other artist. Rubens painted more than two thousand pictures and made nearly five hundred drawings. In every style he proved himself a great master (see page 176).

Anthony Van Dyck (1599–1641) studied under Hendrik van Balen and then became assistant to and pupil of Rubens. After a long stay in Italy he returned to Antwerp and thence settled in England where he became Court-Painter to Charles I. In his short life he painted nearly a thousand pictures and acquired such proficiency in portraiture that he is ranked among the greatest in this line (see page 181).

The important Brueghel (or Breughel) family affords an example of heredity in painting and how in the course of generations there was transition from the old to the new art. Pieter (Peasant) Brueghel (1530–16—?) received lessons from Van Orley and Jerome Cœck, but his real master was the long dead Jerome Bosch, whose fantastic works fascinated him. Brueghel went to Italy and was delighted with the Alpine scenery; but, on his return he tried to preserve the Flemish ideas that were fast dying under the Italian cult. He persisted in portraying the familiar scenes of his boyhood and familiar humorous situations. Therefore, he received the sobriquets of “Peasant Brueghel”[165] and “Droll Brueghel.” His two sons were equally famous. Jan or “Velvet Brueghel” (1568–1625), so-called from his fondness for wearing velvet, was famous for his flowers; and he frequently painted garlands in the pictures of Rubens. Pieter Brueghel (1574–1637), so loved painting infernal scenes that he was nicknamed “Hell-fire Brueghel.” Their sons continued their names and professions until the close of the Seventeenth Century.

Pieter Pourbus (1510–1584) and his son Frans (1540–1580) are among the best portrait-painters of the Sixteenth Century.

Frans Snyders (1579–1657) studied under Peter Brueghel and Hendrik van Balen, became the friend and associate of Rubens, and a brilliant and unsurpassed painter of fruits and animals.

Jacob Jordaens (1593–1678), born in Antwerp, son of a cloth merchant, depicted scenes from domestic life and popular festivities. He was astonishingly able to render mirth and jollity. Jordaens is distinguished for his unrestrained and boisterous humor and he often repeated his somewhat crazy home-concert, “As the old ones sing, so will the young ones twitter.” Jordaens sometimes collaborated with Frans Snyders, Jan Fyt, Adriaen van Utrecht, and others. Jordaens was entirely Flemish, absolutely unaffected by the foreign influences that charmed Rubens and Van Dyck.

David Teniers the Younger (1610–1690) is the greatest genre painter of the southern Netherlands. Teniers is one of those Flemish painters who were sought after in Holland during their lifetime. This may have arisen from the fact that he was closely allied with the Dutch School and with Brouwer who lived and worked in Antwerp. Teniers was an indefatigable painter and left more than eight hundred pictures,—inn-interiors, kermesses, hawking-parties, drinkers, bagpipe-players and other musicians, “conversations,” bowling-games, kitchens, Temptations of St. Anthony, and monkey-scenes. Sir Joshua Reynolds admired him and said: “The works of David Teniers, jun., are worthy of the closest attention of a painter who desires to excel in the mechanical knowledge of his art. His manner of touching, or what we call handling, has perhaps never been equalled: there is in his pictures that exact mixture of softness and sharpness which is difficult to execute.”

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One of the best artists of the second period of the Antwerp School is Gonzales Coques (1614–1684), a painter of interiors of elegance, wealth, gaiety, and happy serenity, and also portraits. His distinction he borrows from Van Dyck and his color is inspired by Rubens. However, in the dimensions of his pictures and their minuteness of detail and finish, Coques is reminiscent of the Dutch School,—particularly Terborch and Metsu.

In the Eighteenth Century there is little painting to claim attention. Charles Blanc has put the matter most succinctly:

“For the Flemish School the Eighteenth Century is a long entr’acte during which the stage, so nobly occupied of old, is sad and deserted. Here and there an artist appears to remind us what Flanders was in color and decoration for two centuries. France was triumphing in spirit and grace; Italy, though decadent, was still ingenious and smiling; England at last was producing original masters; but Flanders was asleep.”

#### PORTRAIT OF A LADY.

Roger van der Weyden | Collection of the
(1400?–1464). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

This very striking portrait, an oil painting on panel (14⅜ × 10⅝), came from the Collection of the Duke of Anhalt, Ducal Castle of Dessau, and was previously in the Gothic Palace, Wörlitz, Germany.

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

PORTRAIT OF A LADY

—Roger van der Weyden

The subject is a Flemish lady of high birth. She is not beautiful, but she has an air of great distinction. Her half-figure is turned three-quarters to the left and dressed in a dark robe with a turned-over collar, opening at the throat, where a transparent piece of soft, white muslin is arranged into a V-shape, and over this hangs a fine gold chain. A crimson girdle fastened with a gold clasp encircles her waist. The hair is brushed back from the forehead, or rather the forehead is rendered bald by the fashionable style of plucking out the hair, and covered by a close-fitting cap, composed of interlaced bands edged with a black ribbon, holding in place a thin veil; and over this a transparent white “wimple” is pinned to the cap, passing over the forehead and fastened at the back where it spreads in a wing on[168] either shoulder. The right hand is placed over the left, presumably resting on a parapet, and a simple gold ring is on a finger of each hand.

Dr. Max Friedländer writes in Meisterwerke der Niederländischen Malerei des XV u. XVI Jahrhunderts auf der Ausstellung zu Brügge (1902):

“This simple, proud, and very well preserved portrait, which has up to the present time not received a great deal of attention, in my estimation appears to be characteristic of Roger van der Weyden, in the severe and somewhat Moorish outline of the face, in the economic modelling of the shadows, and in the drawing of the lean hands. Similar women’s portraits are in the National Gallery, London, and in Adolphe de Rothschild’s Collection (from the Nieuwenhuij’s Sale).

Roger van der Weyden, or Rogier de la Pasture, the son of Henri de la Pasture, was born in 1400 in Tournai, where the family had been settled since 1260. His father was a sculptor and gave Roger his first training. Next he was apprenticed to the Maître de Flêmalle (Robert Campin) and later went to Brussels to live. Here he quickly gained a great reputation, for in 1436 he was appointed painter to the city of Brussels. While busy on his great Last Judgment, commissioned by Nicholas Rolin for the Hospital at Beaune (a polyptych, which has been classed with the Van Eyck Adoration of the Lamb), Roger went on a long trip to Italy. Visiting Rome, he greatly admired the frescoes begun by Gentile da Fabriano in St. John Lateran. He also went to Florence, Ferrara, and, it is supposed, Venice. Roger painted a good deal in Italy and even had orders. Among other things he painted a Madonna and Child for Cosimo de’ Medici.

Roger returned home, it is thought, by way of Cologne. While on this trip, Roger was commissioned by Leonello d’Este to paint a picture.

Roger van der Weyden left as much in Italy as he brought home. His influence is seen in many of the contemporary Italians. In like manner, the influence of the Italians appears in the pictures that Roger van der Weyden painted on his return. German artists, too, fell under the spell of Roger van der Weyden, particularly Martin Schöngauer, the greatest German painter of the Fifteenth Century.

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Roger van der Weyden was extremely versatile: he produced paintings in oil and painted miniatures, designed cartoons for tapestry-weavers, and made wood-engravings.

Fierens-Gevaert, the greatest authority on Flemish Primitives, says of Roger van der Weyden:

“His figures, among which males predominate, both in number and interest, do not all possess the impassibility sometimes attributed to them. Their beauty, or their moral significance, is merely restrained, just like the artist’s own emotions. Both need to be discovered. As for the expression of the color, the novel truth of the light, the profound feeling of the landscape—these are the incontestable merits in the Louvain painter. They explain his profound influence upon Memling, Gerard David, Quentin Massys, the Master of the Death of Mary, his prestige with the Sixteenth Century Renaissants, and the growing admiration of modern criticism for his genius.”

Roger van der Weyden died in Brussels, June 16, 1464, leaving many pupils and followers, the most noteworthy of whom was Hans Memling.

#### PORTRAIT OF A CARTHUSIAN MONK AS A SAINT.

Petrus Christus | Collection of
(1410?–1473). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

This interesting panel (8½ × 11⅝ inches) came to America by way of Spain, having been in the Collections of Don Ramon de Oms, Majorca, and the Marquis de Dos Aguas, Valencia.

The picture is signed and dated 1446 at the base of the portrait, below a ledge, on which an insect is slowly walking. The identity of the subject and the reason for the presence of the fly, or grasshopper (or whatever it is), are equally unknown. However, we have here a marvellous human document, which grows more amazing the longer it is studied. The portrait preserves the personality and features of a strong, kindly, and interesting man, who must have been beloved and honored, or he would not have been represented with a golden ring around his head, proclaiming him a saint.

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And the painter has done more than this: he has thrown such atmosphere around the man that the interesting life in the old abbeys seems to rise before us. We see the picturesque buildings set in emerald swards and shaded by leafy trees, and surrounded by cloisters where the monks take exercise, or read in some traceried recess; and we peer into the halls where the artistic members of the community are writing, composing music, copying, or painting and illuminating beautiful miniatures in manuscripts, destined—although undreamed of by these painters and gold-leaf workers—to bring thousands of dollars at auction-sales five hundred years in the future and to be prized as treasures in a then undiscovered country across the Atlantic Ocean, whose waters were thought by those very monks to break upon the shores of Far Cathay!

Our Carthusian Monk, in his white cassock, carries us into the Chapel, where we see him and others of his Order in prayer at midnight, at early dawn, or at the vesper hour; and again with him we stroll to the near-by river in the golden sunlight of the afternoon and sit under the soft willows, dangling a line from a long fishing-pole until we have a sufficient catch for supper. On our return to the abbey we notice how heartily our Carthusian Monk welcomes a group of arriving travellers—for the abbeys were the hostelries in the Middle Ages—and we join them at supper in the refectory. Doubtless, too, our Carthusian gives us a petit verre of golden Chartreuse of his own making.

While the rules in the ancient abbeys were rigid and inflexible and religion, of course, the chief business, it was in these secluded places that art and learning were preserved and fostered. The world to-day is apt to forget what civilization owes to the Mediæval Abbey, and Petrus Christus has brought this Carthusian Monk to tell us something of what that is.

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

PORTRAIT OF A CARTHUSIAN MONK AS A SAINT

—Petrus Christus

Petrus Christus was born at Baerle, on the southern border of Holland, in 1410 (it is thought). In 1444 he became a free citizen of Bruges and, as he was a follower and probably a pupil of Jan van Eyck and Roger van der Weyden, he is classed as belonging to the School of Bruges. Petrus Christus painted religious pictures and portraits[172] and is regarded as one of the direct ancestors of genre painting. He died in 1473. Of late years his pictures have come into special prominence.

#### MADONNA AND CHILD WITH ANGELS.

Hans Memling | Collection of the
(1430–5–1494). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

This painting, an oil on panel (23 × 19 inches), came from the Collection of the Duke of Anhalt, Gothic Palace, Wörlitz, near Dessau, Germany.

The Virgin in a blue robe and red mantle is seated on a canopied throne, behind which is an embroidered hanging. Her eyes are looking downward upon a missal which she holds in her left hand. On her right knee, and supported by her right arm, is seated the Holy Child, who reaches out for an apple, offered to Him by a kneeling Angel. This Angel holds in his left hand a viol and bow. At the right, another kneeling Angel is playing a harp. The scene is framed in a Gothic arch, flanked on either side by a circular column, each column supporting a single male figure in a sculptured niche: on the right, St. Simon the Apostle is holding a saw, and on the left, the Prophet David is holding a harp. On each spandrel of the arch a cherub is holding a globe. Beyond this again, on either side of the throne, we see a landscape with a castle on the left and a church and river on the right. In the foreground there is a tessellated floor covered with an Oriental rug.

This idea of angels playing instruments[21] Memling may have learned from Italy.

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Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

MADONNA AND CHILD WITH ANGELS

—Hans Memling

[174]

Hans Memling (or Memlinc), was born in 1430 or 1435, supposedly in Memelynck (whence his name) near Alkmaar in Holland. Tradition says that his family removed to the diocese of Mainz when he was fifteen. Memling seems to have painted in Cologne before he went to Bruges about 1465, where it is thought he was a pupil of Roger van der Weyden. It is certain that he was a master painter in Bruges in 1467. In 1479 he painted his masterpiece, The Marriage of St. Catherine, ordered by Jan Floreins for the St. John’s Hospital, Bruges, and also a smaller triptych, The Adoration of the Magi, for the same building. Another great work was the Shrine of St. Ursula, ordered by the Hospital in 1480 to enclose some relics of St. Ursula brought from the Holy Land,—a miniature Gothic chapel adorned with finials, statuettes, and medallions representing episodes in the life of St. Ursula. Memling died in 1494 in Bruges, which contains to-day a great number of his works.

Memling, in common with the Van Eycks and Roger van der Weyden was fond of enamelling his grassy swards, where the people sit or walk, with beautifully painted flowers; such as the daisy, the anemone, and the iris. Hans Memling is the most attractive of all the painters of the Netherlandish School, the most human, the most poetic, most graceful and the tenderest, merging, as did Fra Angelico (1387–1455), his contemporary, from Mediæval to Renaissance. Indeed Hans Memling is often called the “Flemish Fra Angelico.”

#### PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN.

Hans Memling | Collection of
(1430–1494). | Mrs. John N. Willys.

Here we have the portrait of a young gentleman nearly full face, and clad in a black doublet which is open at the neck showing a white linen shirt with a narrow black circular band around the top. On his head is a circular black felt cap with narrow brim. The dense masses of his brownish red hair fall over his shoulders and completely cover his forehead to the top of his eyebrows. He has blue eyes and an intensely thoughtful and serious expression, and he holds in his[176] left hand a scroll of paper, which might seem to indicate that he is a poet. The background consists of a woody landscape, and on the left is a river with two swans.

Collection of Mrs. John N. Willys

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN

—Hans Memling

Dr. Max J. Friedländer, of Berlin, after examining the picture wrote to the present owner: “I was greatly interested in the Memling portrait from the Taylor Collection which I saw at your place. It is positively a characteristic work of the hand of the Master.”

This picture painted on panel (13½ × 9 inches) came from the John Edward Taylor Collection, London, in 1912.

#### LOUIS XIII KING OF FRANCE.

Peter Paul Rubens | Collection of
(1577–1640). | Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

This interesting oil painting on canvas (46½ × 38 inches) came from the Collection of the Emperor of Germany, Palace of Charlottenburg near Berlin, and was originally in the Collection of the Archduke Leopold William of Austria at the Ducal Palace, Brussels. It was painted between 1622 and 1625, and is supposed to be a companion to the portrait of Anne of Austria (now in the Prado).

Louis XIII is represented about the age of twenty-five, life-size, and three-quarter length, looking at the observer from a background of sky, portico, and red drapery. He has a slight moustache and his hair is curled and falls down to the fine lace ruff around his neck. He is dressed in a polished steel suit of armor and rests his left hand, wearing a gauntlet, on a table covered by a cloth. A marshal’s bâton is in his right hand. The Cross of the Order of the Holy Spirit hangs from a ribbon at his right side and on his left hangs a sword from a belt. Over his shoulder is thrown a bright blue velvet and ermine mantle embroidered with fleur-de-lys and on the table is seen his helmet surmounted by rich plumes of ostrich feathers.

Collection of Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

LOUIS XIII, KING OF FRANCE

—Peter Paul Rubens

Louis XIII, son of Henri IV and his second wife, Marie de’ Medici, was born in 1601 and became king at the age of nine, on his father’s assassination in 1610. Marie de’ Medici, then becoming Regent, determined to bring France into close relation with the House of[178] Austria and Spain, and, consequently, brought about the marriage of her son in 1615 with Anne of Austria, daughter of the Spanish King, Philip III.

Louis does not seem to have inherited any of the talents of the Medici family, nor any of the dashing charm of his father, the gallant “King Henry of Navarre.” He acquiesced for a time in his mother’s government and in the rule of her favorites, among whom the Marshall d’Ancre was notable; but in 1617 he had the latter assassinated with the help of Charles d’Albert, Sieur de Luynes. This caused a breach between him and his mother and their relations continued hostile until death.

In 1624 Cardinal Richelieu, who had been Marie de’ Medici’s chief adviser, entered into the King’s council, and, thereafter, Richelieu directed the policy of France and controlled Louis XIII. Many conflicts resulted between the Protestants and the nobles of France; and Louis was made the enemy of his mother, Gaston d’Orléans (his brother) and, frequently, of his wife, Anne of Austria. On one occasion the Queen Mother and Gaston d’Orléans gained influence over Louis and he was about to dismiss Richelieu; but the Cardinal regained his power and immediately punished his enemies. The Queen Mother was forced to flee to Brussels and Gaston d’Orléans to Lorraine. Towards the end of his reign Louis is quoted as having said to Richelieu: “We have lived together too long to be separated.”

Cardinal Richelieu died in December, 1642, and Louis died a few months later, in May, 1643.

Peter Paul Rubens was born in Siegen, Westphalia, in 1577, and received his first education in the Jesuit College in Antwerp, and, for a few years, thereafter, was page to a noble lady. At the age of thirteen he began to study painting under Tobias Verhaagt, whom he left to study under Adam van Noort. Next he worked under Otto van Veen. In 1600 he went to Italy, entering the service of Vincenzo Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua, with whom he remained for eight years, interrupted by missions to various courts. In 1603 he visited Madrid and went to Venice, Rome, and Genoa. In 1609, on the death of the Duke of Mantua, Rubens returned to Antwerp and became Court-Painter[179] to Albert and Isabella, Regents of the Netherlands. In that year also Rubens married Isabella Brandt. His studio at Antwerp now became famous and attracted students from every town in Europe.

He had barely established himself when he wrote to a friend in 1611: “On every side I am overwhelmed with solicitations. Without the least exaggeration, I may assure you that I have already had to refuse more than a hundred pupils.”

In 1621 Rubens was called by Marie de’ Medici to Paris to decorate the gallery in the Palace of the Luxembourg. At this period the style Rubens, which he introduced on his return from Italy and which was inspired by the late Italian Renaissance, was all the rage.

In 1622 he published a book on the Palaces of Genoa; and from the preface we learn that he was perfectly delighted to see the “old style known as barbarous, or Gothic, go out of fashion, to the great honor of the country, and disappear from Flanders, giving place to symmetrical buildings designed by men of better taste and conforming to the rules of the Greek and Roman antique.”

Rubens was a favorite with several kings and when he was neither painting nor teaching, he was visiting some foreign court on an embassy. On one of these visits to London in 1629–30 he was knighted by Charles I.

In 1630 he married again (Isabella Brandt having died in 1626), uniting himself to his first wife’s niece, Helena Fourment, who was but sixteen. Rubens now built a palatial house in Antwerp, where, as well as in his Château de Steen in the vicinity, he lived a happy, industrious, and splendid life, having everything the world could give in the way of honors and joys. Rubens’s influence upon the artists of his own time was very great and he dominated the entire art taste of Europe during the first three quarters of the Seventeenth Century.

Religious subjects, mythological subjects, landscapes, hunting scenes, portraits, and still-life,—everything came easily to his brush. Sir Joshua Reynolds wrote a fine analysis of Rubens, in which he says: “The striking brilliancy of his colors, and their lively opposition to each other, the flowing liberty and freedom of his outline, the[180] animated pencil with which every object is touched, all contribute to awaken and keep alive the attention of the spectator; awaken in him, in some measure, correspondent sensations, and make him feel a degree of that enthusiasm with which the painter was carried away. To this we may add the complete uniformity in all the parts of the work, so that the whole seems to be conducted and grow out of one mind: everything is of a piece and fits its place.

“Besides the excellency of Rubens in these general powers, he possessed the true art of imitating. He saw the objects of nature with a painter’s eye; he saw at once the predominant feature by which every object is known and distinguished; and as soon as seen, it was executed with a facility that is astonishing. Rubens was, perhaps, the greatest master in the mechanical part of the art, the best workman with his tools, that ever exercised a pencil.

“This power which Rubens possessed in the highest degree enabled him to represent whatever he undertook better than any other painter. His animals, particularly lions and horses, are so admirable that it may be said they were never properly represented but by him. His portraits rank with the best works of the painters who have made that branch of art the sole business of their lives; and of those he has left a great variety of specimens. The same may be said of his landscapes.

“The difference of the manner of Rubens from that of any other painter before him is in nothing more distinguishable than in his coloring, which is totally different from that of Titian, Correggio, or any of the great colorists. The effect of his pictures may be not improperly compared to clusters of flowers; all his colors appear as clear and as beautiful; at the same time he has avoided that tawdry effect which one would expect such gay colors to produce; in this respect resembling Barocci more than any other painter. What was said of an ancient painter may be applied to those two artists, that their figures look as if they fed upon roses.”

[181]

#### RINALDO AND ARMIDA.

Sir Anthony Van Dyck | Collection of
(1599–1641). | Mr. Jacob Epstein.

This picture, oils on canvas (90 × 96 inches), came from the Collection of the Duke of Newcastle, Clumber Park, Nottinghamshire, to its present home in Baltimore.

Rinaldo is in shining, silver-blue armor with a flowing mantle of golden yellow, which is clasped at the shoulder. Armida wears a blue robe and a red mantle. The sky is blue with white clouds and there is a tree in the background and an enchanted lake at the right.

The influence of Van Dyck’s master, Rubens, is very apparent in this gorgeous picture, where all the delights of the Garden of Armida are set forth—that magic garden that Tasso described in his Jerusalem Delivered, to which many a Crusader was lured.

Collection of Mr. Jacob Epstein

RINALDO AND ARMIDA

—Sir Anthony Van Dyck

Another Rinaldo and Armida by Van Dyck is in the Louvre.

Armida was a beautiful sorceress; and it was difficult to resist her enchantment. Two messengers were sent from the Christian Army with a talisman to effect Rinaldo’s escape. Armida followed Rinaldo and, not being able to regain her power over him, rushed into the combat and was killed. Rinaldo came of the noble Este family and ran away at the age of fifteen to join the Crusaders. He was enrolled in the “Adventurers Squadron” and is often called the “Achilles of the Christian Army.”

Anthony, or Antoon, van Dyck, was born at Antwerp in 1599, son of a silk-merchant. At the age of ten he became the pupil of Henrik van Balen and entered Rubens’s studio as assistant in 1618, when only seventeen. He soon achieved a reputation for his portraits and visited England. In 1621, by Rubens’s advice, he went to Italy, having already acquired a reputation. After a five years’ stay, much of which time was spent in Genoa, Van Dyck returned home and painted his celebrated picture of the Crucifixion for the Church of St. Michael in Ghent, which established his reputation. In 1630 he again visited England; but, not meeting with the reception he had anticipated,[182] he returned to Antwerp. However, in 1632, Charles I, who had seen a portrait of his Chapelmaster by Van Dyck, sent for him to come to England. On this occasion the painter was warmly welcomed, lodged by the King at Blackfriars, and, in the following year was knighted and given a pension for life. Van Dyck was the second painter to have an English Knighthood. Thenceforward Van Dyck lived very grandly, having a town house and also a country house at Eltham. He was always magnificently dressed, had numerous coaches and horses, and kept so good a table that few princes were better served. Van Dyck died in London in 1641, at the age of forty-two, having left a prodigious amount of work and a fortune of £20,000 sterling, notwithstanding his expensive manner of living. He was buried in Old St. Paul’s, near the tomb of John of Gaunt; but his remains, of course, perished in the Great Fire of 1666.

In the short span of his life—forty-two years—he painted nearly a thousand pictures. Van Dyck has three styles. The first is his Italian period; the second, his Flemish period, dating from his return from Italy in 1626 to his departure for England in 1631; and the third, his English period, from 1631 to 1641. The latter period is the greatest and the most distinguished for grace, elegance, and aristocratic quality.

“More noble than Rubens in his choice of form,” writes Charles Blanc, “Van Dyck had fewer faults than his master, but perhaps also less grandeur. His color was as charming without being so splendid. His design was learned, but without pedantry; and his contours were always governed by the sentiment of grace, or fire of genius. Very nearly the equal of Titian in portraiture, Van Dyck has sometimes risen to a great height in his historical compositions, in which the beauty of the expression is often as admirable as the excellence of the touch.”

[183]
[184]

#### DÆDALUS AND ICARUS.

Sir Anthony Van Dyck | Collection of
(1599–1641). | Mr. Frank P. Wood.

A treasure of art, long in England in the famous Collection of the late Earl Spencer, K. G., at Althorp, Northumberland, is Van Dyck’s poetic version of the ancient Greek myth regarding man’s attempt at flight. Van Dyck was so fond of this subject that he painted it more than once.

This work is an oil painting on canvas (46 × 35 inches).

The figures are nearly life-size and very finely modelled. Icarus is nude save for a red drapery caught around the waist by a narrow band of bluish green,—a rather strange aviator’s suit to our way of thinking to-day! The position of his right hand would seem to tell us that Icarus is about to speak to his father, who, standing behind him, has apparently just fastened on his son’s wings and who appears to be giving him that sage advice about flying too near the sun. The flashing eyes and knitted brow of young Icarus indicate that this advice is not relished.

Max Rooses has noted that Icarus is not unlike the Angels that Van Dyck was fond of painting; calls attention to his beautiful, waving, golden hair; and finds a strong likeness between Icarus and the artist himself in his youth. One of the wings shows a white interior and the other, in the shadow, a bluish green exterior.

Collection of Mr. Frank P. Wood

DÆDALUS AND ICARUS

—Sir Anthony Van Dyck

Dædalus was a mythical personage under whom the Greek writers personified the earliest development of human flight and also the arts of sculpture and architecture. Some traditions represent Dædalus as of the royal race of the Erechthidæ and others make him a Cretan. Dædalus devoted himself to sculpture and taught his sister’s son, Talus, who soon surpassed him. Consequently, in envy Dædalus killed this young rival. Condemned to death in Athens for this murder, Dædalus fled to Crete, where his fame won him the friendship of King Minos. When Queen Pasiphae gave birth to the Minotaur, Dædalus constructed the Labyrinth at Cnossus in which the Minotaur was kept; and for doing this King Minos imprisoned him. However,[186][185] Pasiphae released him. This was of not much advantage, however, because King Minos had seized all the ships on the coast of Crete. “Necessity is the mother of invention:” Dædalus had to get away. The question was “how?”. The result was that Dædalus made wings for himself and for his son, Icarus, and fastened them on the shoulders with wax, cautioning the youth not to fly too close to the sun. Icarus would not pay attention to this advice and, flying too high, the wax melted and he dropped down and was drowned in that part of the Ægean Sea, which is now called after him the Icarian Sea.

Dædalus, however, flew safely over the Ægean and reached Sicily, where he was protected by Cocalus, King of that Island. When King Minos heard where Dædalus had taken refuge he sailed with a great fleet to Sicily; but was murdered there by Cocalus. According to some accounts, Dædalus alighted on his flight from Crete at Cumæ in Italy, where he erected a temple to Apollo in which he offered the wings with which he had flown. Like Lindberg, his descendant, he placed his “We” in a museum!

Many works of art were attributed to Dædalus in Greece, Italy, Egypt, and the islands of the Mediterranean. Also the Greeks gave the name of Dædala to the ancient wooden statues of the gods ornamented with gilding, bright colors, and real drapery.

It is appropriate to add here a sonnet by an old French poet, Philippe Desportes (1545–1606) entitled “Icare”:

ICARE

Icare est chut ici, le jeune audacieux,
Qui pour voler au ciel eut assez de courage:
Ici tomba son corps dégarni de plumage,
Laissant tous braves cœurs de sa chute envieux.
O bienheureux travail d’un esprit glorieux,
Qui tire un grand gain d’un si petit dommage!
O bienheureux malheur plein de tant d’avantage,
Qu’il rende le vaincu des ans victorieux!
Un chemin si nouveau n’étonna sa jeunesse,
Le pouvoir lui faillit, mais non le hardiesse;
Il eut pour le brûler des astres le plus beau;
Il mourut poursuivant une haute aventure;
Le ciel fut son désir, la mer sa sépulture;
Est-il plus beau dessein, ou plus riche tombeau?

[187]

#### ROBERT RICH, EARL OF WARWICK.

Sir Anthony Van Dyck | Collection of
(1599–1641). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

In silver doublet with slashed sleeves embroidered with flowers, crimson knee-breeches edged with gold braid, pink silk stockings and white shoes with lace rosettes (or “shoe roses,” as they were called in those days), a crimson cloak thrown over his left shoulder and held by his gloved hand, white lawn collar and cuffs edged with handsome lace, Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, stands before us, a picture of elegance, manly beauty, and aristocratic hauteur. He is standing full front with his head turned three-quarters to the left, in which direction he is also looking, and he is holding his black felt hat in his right hand. His armor and bâton of command are lying on the ground by his side. The embroidered curtain in the background does not prevent us from seeing a naval engagement on his right.

Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, came of very distinguished ancestry on the maternal line, for his mother was Penelope Devereux, the sister of Essex, whose mother, Lettice Knollys, had been Maid of Honor to Queen Elizabeth (and who captivated the Earl of Leicester), and whose father, Walter Devereux, was first Earl of Essex (died 1576). Penelope’s father had wished her to marry Sir Philip Sidney; but the Earl of Huntingdon, Penelope’s guardian, ruled otherwise and forced her to marry Lord Rich, “a man of independent fortune and a known estate but otherwise of an uncourtly disposition, unsociable, austere, and of no agreeable conversation to her.”

Lady Rich, the most beautiful woman in all London, particularly famous for her sparkling black eyes, plunged wildly into society and was the most admired and courted woman of the Court. She played, too, a leading part in the rebellion of her distinguished brother, Essex. Lady Rich lives in literature as Sidney’s Stella. The romance between these lovers, “Astrophel and Stella,” never cooled. When Sidney[188] learned of Penelope’s marriage to “the rich Lord Rich,” he played with her new name as follows:

“Towards Aurora’s court a nymph doth dwell,
Rich in all beauties which man’s eye can see;
Beauties so far from reach of words that we
Abase her praise saying she doth excel:
Rich in those gifts which give the eternal crown;
Who, though most rich in these and every part
Which makes the patents of true worldly bliss,
Hath no misfortune but that Rich she is.”

Lord Rich was created Earl of Warwick in 1618; but he had been divorced from Lady Rich in 1605, thirteen years before he succeeded to this title. On obtaining her divorce Lady Rich then married Charles Blount, Earl of Devonshire and eighth Baron Mountjoy, who, in defense of his marriage, wrote the following:

“A lady of great birth and virtue being in the power of her friends, was by them married against her will unto one against whom she did protest at the very solemnity and ever after; between whom, from the first day, there ensued continued discord, although the same fears that forced her to marry constrained her to live with him. Instead of a comforter, he did study in all things to torment her; and by fear and fraud, did practice to deceive her of her dowry.”

Sidney was always writing of Stella’s marvellous black eyes and their shining rays:

“When nature made her chief work, Stella’s eyes,
In color black, why wrapt she beams so bright?
Would she in beauty black, like painter wise,
Fame daintiest lustre, mixt of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise
In object best to knit and strength our sight;
Least, if no veil these brave gleams did disguise,
They, sunlike, should more dazzle than delight?
Or would she her miraculous power show,
That, whereas black seems Beauty’s contrary,
She even in black doth make all beauties flow?
Both so, and thus—she, minding Love should be
Placed even there, gave his this mourning weed
To honor all their deaths who for her bleed.”

There is every reason, therefore, why the subject of this picture should be so handsome, so distinguished, and so fascinating.

[189]

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

ROBERT RICH, EARL OF WARWICK

—Sir Anthony Van Dyck

[190]

Robert Rich was born in 1587 and was admitted to Emmanuel College, Cambridge, in 1603 and in that year was created a Knight of the Bath. He was quite old enough to have remembered the exciting days of the Essex conspiracy, the part his mother took in this, her imprisonment and release, and his uncle’s execution in 1601. At the age of twenty-three he was elected to Parliament and was again elected in 1614. In 1619 he succeeded to the title.

Robert Rich was one of the original members of the Company for the Plantation of the Bermudas in 1614 and was granted a seat on the Council of the New England Company in 1620, which two great enterprises connect this handsome lord with our own country. Also in 1624 Robert Rich was made a member of the Council of the Virginia Government. Yet this was not all. Warwick’s Colonial interests brought him into close relation with the leading men of the Puritan Party and link his name with the early history of the New England Colonies. He was closely associated with the origin of Connecticut, for in 1632 he granted to Lord Say, Lord Brooke, John Hampden, and others what is known as “the old patent of Connecticut,” under which the town of Saybrook (named for Lord Say and Lord Brooke) was founded.

In English politics Warwick opposed the policy of Charles I and, consequently, after the dissolution of the Short Parliament, he was arrested by the King’s order.

As temporal head of the Puritans and opposed to the party in the Established Church led by Archbishop Laud, Warwick concurred in the prosecution of Archbishop Laud and the Earl of Strafford. In 1643 Warwick was appointed Lord High Admiral of the Fleet, serving Parliament in opposition to Charles I, and he bore the title of Governor-in-Chief of all the islands and other plantations subject to the English Crown, on which authority he became associated with the founding of the Colony of Rhode Island. After the monarchy and the House of Lords had both been swept away, the Earl of Warwick gave his support and encouragement to Oliver Cromwell. The marriage of Cromwell’s daughter to Warwick’s grandson proves the strength of the friendship. The Earl of Warwick died on April 19,[191] 1658, and was buried at Felsted, Essex. He had been three times married.

This picture, in oils on canvas (83 × 49 inches), belonged in the Collection of the Marquess of Breadalbane, Taymouth Castle, Scotland, and to the Collection of the Hon. Mrs. Robert Baillie-Hamilton, Langton, Duns, Scotland.

#### QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA WITH JEFFREY HUDSON AND A MONKEY.

Sir Anthony Van Dyck | Collection of
(1599–1641). | Mr. William Randolph Hearst.

This full-length portrait in oils on canvas (85¼ × 52 inches) was painted in 1633, the year that Van Dyck was knighted and when he had been about a year in the service of Charles I. Its pedigree is interesting. The painting was in the possession of the Newports, Earls Bradford of the first creation, and was left in 1762, on the death of the fifth Earl, to his sister, Diana, Countess of Mountrath. From the Countess of Mountrath it descended to her son, the last Earl of Mountrath, and from him to the first Earl of Dorchester, of Milton Abbey, where it remained until removed by the Earl of Portarlington to Emo Park, Queen’s County, Ireland. In 1881 Thomas George, first Earl of Northbrook, acquired it by exchange from the Earl of Portarlington; and from the latter it was inherited by Francis George, the second Earl of Northbrook, whence it came to the present owner.

The Queen of Charles I, proud and handsome, is very French and Italian in general style; for be it remembered that Henrietta Maria was the daughter of the gallant King Henry of Navarre and his second wife, Marie de’ Medici, and that she was, consequently, the sister of Louis XIII (see page 176).

The Queen has brown hair curled in “ringlets” and one “ringlet” falls on her shoulder. Her face is oval and delicate and her eyes are brown. She is standing at full length on a step with her head slightly turned to the left, dressed in a blue silk gown (of the shade we now call “Alice blue”), trimmed with narrow gold braid, and a large black[192] felt hat with a white plume, lace collar and a kerchief over her shoulders with two pink bows in front. Beautifully painted frills of lace adorn the elbow sleeves. With her left hand she touches a stiff fold in her dress and with her right hand she caresses a little brown monkey perched on the shoulder of Jeffrey Hudson, the famous dwarf. The little dwarf is about thirteen years of age and is much under size. He has light hair and the slightly wizened face that usually goes with this kind of freak. Indeed our little Jeffrey looks not unlike the pictures of the famous “Gen. Tom Thumb” of Barnum days in the mid-Nineteenth Century. Jeffrey Hudson wears a suit of brick-dust red velvet, a lace collar, and long, brown boots.

In the background, to the left, there is a stone wall and upon it a flower-pot holding an orange tree, and farther away we note some trees and, still farther beyond, the sky. To the right of the fluted pillar on the right, there is a sort of ledge or shelf covered with a brilliant orange silk curtain on which rests a crown of gold studded with pearls, which informs us of the presence of Royalty.

Queen Henrietta Maria was born in 1609, the year before her father, Henri IV, King of France, was assassinated. In 1624, when she was about fifteen, the Prince of Wales offered marriage; and this was consented to by her brother, Louis XIII, on condition that the English Roman Catholics should be relieved from the enforcement of the penal laws. In June, 1625, Henrietta Maria was married by proxy and went to England, thus encumbered with political and religious pledges that were certain to bring unpopularity upon everybody concerned. The Prince of Wales had now become King of England and he soon found an excuse for breaking his promise to relieve the English Roman Catholics. This course of action offended the Queen deeply. The early years of Charles’s married life were very unhappy and the favorite, the dashing Buckingham, fanned the flames of the King’s discontent. After the assassination of Buckingham in 1628, the King and Queen became deeply attached to each other; and from that moment the bond of affection that united them was never loosened.

Collection of Mr. William Randolph Hearst

QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA WITH JEFFREY HUDSON AND A MONKEY

—Sir Anthony Van Dyck

For a number of years Henrietta Maria’s chief interests lay with[194] her young family. Her children were: Charles II (born 1630); Mary, Princess of Orange (born 1631); James, Duke of York, afterwards James II, (born 1633); Elizabeth (born 1636); Henry, Duke of Gloucester (born 1640); and Henrietta, Duchesse d’Orléans (born 1644). The Queen also delighted in the amusements of the gay and brilliant Court. With political matters she had nothing to do until 1637, when she opened a diplomatic communication with the See of Rome, to help her co-religionists. She appointed an agent to reside in Rome and Rome sent to her a Papal agent (a Scotchman named George Conn), who soon made many converts among the English nobility and gentry.

Protestant England took alarm and, therefore, the Queen became very unpopular. When the Scottish troubles broke out Queen Henrietta Maria raised money from her fellow Catholics to support the King’s army on the Borders in 1639; and in 1640, during the sitting of the Short Parliament, the Queen urged her husband to oppose himself to the House of Commons in defence of the Catholics. When the Long Parliament met, the Catholics were believed to be the authors and agents of every arbitrary scheme supposed to have entered into the plans of Strafford or Laud. During the Long Parliament Henrietta Maria urged the Pope to lend money to enable her to restore her husband’s authority and she threw herself heart and soul into the schemes for rescuing Strafford and coercing Parliament. The Army Plot, the schemes for using Scotland against England, and the attempt upon the five members—Pym, Hampden, Haselrig, Hoiles, and Strode—were the fruits of her political activity.

Next the Queen effected her passage to the Continent and in February, 1643, she returned and, landing at Burlington Quay, placed herself at the head of a band of Loyalists and marched through England to join the King near Oxford. After little more than a residence there of a year, on the 3d of April, 1644, she parted from her husband to see his face no more; but as long as Charles I was alive she never ceased to encourage him to resistance. Henrietta Maria found refuge in France, for Richelieu was then dead and Anne of Austria proved compassionate, yet she had much to suffer in her[195] exile. The execution of her husband was a terrible distress. There is a story with some truth that she married her equerry, Lord Jermyn, which may account for the estrangement of her children.

When Henrietta Maria returned to England after the Restoration, she found that she had no place in the new Court. Parliament gave her a grant of £30,000 a year in compensation for the loss of her dower-lands and her son, Charles II, added a similar sum as a pension from himself. In January, 1661, Henrietta returned to France to be present at the marriage of her daughter, Henrietta, to the Duc d’Orléans, but in July, 1662, she was back in England, taking up her residence at Somerset House. Three years later she returned to France and died at Colombes, near Paris, in 1666.

The other personage in this double portrait, Jeffrey Hudson, was born at Oakham, Rutland, in 1619. His father was a butcher, who kept and baited bulls for George Villiers, first Duke of Buckingham. Neither of his parents was undersized. When he was nine years old his father carried Jeffrey to Burleigh-on-the-Hill and offered him to the Duchess of Buckingham, who took him into her service. At that time he was scarcely eighteen inches in height and, if we may believe Fuller, “without any deformity, wholly proportioned.”

Shortly afterwards Charles I and Henrietta Maria passed through Rutland and the Duke of Buckingham gave a dinner in their honor. During one of the courses an enormous pie[22] was served; and when it was cut, out jumped Jeffrey Hudson! The Queen was so delighted with the sprightly little dwarf that she appropriated him at once and he became a Court favorite.

Jeffrey had a number of adventures. On one occasion, when he was sent to France to procure a nurse for the Queen, the ship was captured on the return voyage by a Flemish pirate and Jeffrey, the nurse, and the Queen’s dancing-master were all taken to Dunkirk. Then Jeffrey also saw some military service. When the Prince of Orange besieged Breda in 1637, “Strenuous Jeffrey” was in the Prince’s camp in company with the Earl of Warwick (see page 187) and the Earl of Northampton, who were volunteers in the Dutch Service.

[196]

During the Civil Wars Jeffrey Hudson is said to have been a Captain of the Horse. It is certain that he followed the Queen, for he was with her in the flight to Pendennis Castle, in June, 1644, and he went with her to Paris. “He was,” says Fuller, “though a dwarf, no dastard”; and, accordingly, when insulted by Crofts at Paris in 1649, he shot him dead with a pistol in a duel. Crofts had rashly armed himself only with a squirt. In consequence of this, Jeffrey had to leave Paris, although Henrietta Maria saved him from imprisonment, which, however, he had frequently experienced. At sea Jeffrey was captured by a Turkish rover, carried to Barbary, and sold as a slave. His miseries, according to his own account, made him grow taller. Jeffrey managed to get back to England about 1658, at which time Heath addressed some lines to him in his Clarastella.

After the Restoration, Jeffrey Hudson lived quietly in the country for some time on a pension subscribed by the Duke of Buckingham and others; but, on coming up to London to push his fortunes at Court, he, being a Roman Catholic, was suspected of complicity in the Popish Plot (1679) and was confined in the Gatehouse at Westminster.

In June, 1680, and April, 1681, “Captain Jeffrey Hudson” received respectively £50 and £20 from Charles II’s secret service fund. Jeffrey Hudson died in 1682.

Accounts of his height vary, but, according to his own statement (as made to Wright, the historian of Rutland), after reaching the age of seven, when he was eighteen inches high, he did not grow at all until he was thirty, when he shot up three feet, six or nine. Hudson’s waistcoat, breeches, and stockings are preserved in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

[197]

[199]

## DUTCH PAINTING

It is not until we come to the Seventeenth Century that Painting in that part of the Spanish and Austrian Netherlands now known as Holland took on the national character of the Dutch race. The new political and economic views inculcated by the States-General, and even more particularly through the bias of the Protestant faith, produced an entirely new kind of painting. The sacred subjects inspired by the Roman Catholic religion, as well as the mythological and historical subjects (made so popular by Rubens) were rejected for more prosaic and literal interpretations of Biblical stories; for representations of popular heroes in the late wars that overthrew Spanish tyranny; for portrait groups of civic dignitaries, such as Regents and Presidents of guild-halls, shooting-galleries, hospitals and other charitable institutions (known as “Regent” and “Doelen” pictures); and for those domestic scenes and social parties called “Conversation Pieces,” in which are mirrored the Dutch home and its simple pleasures with detailed representation of furniture, rugs, china, glass, brass-ware, musical instruments, birds, animals, food, fruit, and flowers. Landscapes and marines were also in harmony with the new choice of subject, and, of course, portraiture of the most realistic kind.

This matter-of-fact art was given a somewhat “romantic” quality by the extraordinary treatment of dark masses of shadow and of sunlight effects and also by a fine use of color. Artists have always appreciated these characteristics, agreeing with Sir Joshua Reynolds, who wrote after his visit to the Netherlands:

“A market-woman with a hare in her hand, a man blowing a trumpet, or a boy blowing bubbles, a view of the inside or outside of a church, are the subjects of some of their most valuable pictures; but there is still entertainment, even in such pictures—however uninteresting their subjects, there is some pleasure in the contemplation of[200] the imitation. But to a painter they afford likewise instruction in his profession; here he may learn the art of coloring and composition, a skillful management of light and shade and indeed all the mechanical parts of the art as well as in any other School whatever.

“The same skill which is practised by Rubens and Titian in their large works is here exhibited, though on a smaller scale. Painters should go to the Dutch School to learn the art of painting as they would go to a grammar-school to learn languages. They must go to Italy to learn the higher branches of knowledge.”

In the long list of great and noteworthy Dutch painters the two greatest names are Rembrandt and Frans Hals. Rembrandt van Rijn (1606–1669), a powerful giant, excelling in painting, etching, and drawing, producing masterpiece after masterpiece and standing alone as an interpreter of Bible stories, profound searcher for character in portraiture, and dramatist in light and shade (see page 204).

Frans Hals (1580?–1666), painter of portraits, corporations and military companies, and characters of low life, with an uncanny analysis of the eye and an uncanny technique to register surely and rapidly what his eye saw, whose pictures, long neglected, are of high value to-day (see page 220).

Not far below Frans Hals and Rembrandt as a painter of great civic group pictures comes Bartholomew van der Helst (1612–1670), whose enormous Civic Guard Banquet, painted in 1648 in celebration of the Peace of Münster, with its twenty-four life-size portraits, ranks as one of the great pictures of the world. Van der Helst’s Company of Captain Roelof Bicker, in the same gallery, with its thirty-two portraits, is its equal although not quite so renowned.

Dutch Painting, however, did not leap into being with Rembrandt, Frans Hals, and Bartholomew van der Helst. There were Dutch Primitives, as there were Flemish Primitives, and they are not always to be distinguished from one another. The famous Hubert and Jan van Eyck, for instance, are thought to have been natives of Maaseyck on the Maas and Hans Memling is supposed to have been born in Memelynck, near Alkmaar.

The greatest of the Dutch painters was Lucas van Leiden (1494–1533),[201] who knew Italian Art well and who was a follower of Albrecht Dürer. Some of his paintings are very decorative and his chess and card-players may almost be said to begin Dutch genre painting, brought to such perfection by the Little Dutch Masters. By the end of the Fifteenth Century a great many Dutch painters had visited Italy; some of them had studied there; and some of them had worked there. Jan van Scorel (1495–1562), for instance, was kept in Rome for five years by Pope Adrian VI, who was, himself, a native of Utrecht.

Jan van Scorel was the master of Antonio Moro, or Antonis Mor (1512–1577), who went to Rome, was admitted to the Guild of Painters in Utrecht in 1547, and leaped into fame with a portrait of Cardinal Granvella, who took Moro in his train to Brussels. Moro soon became Court-Painter to the House of Hapsburg and travelled about to various courts, painting portraits of Royalty. Michiel Jansz Mierevelt (1567–1641), was portrait-painter to the House of Orange and Nassau and his pupil, Paulus Moreelse (1571–1638), a native of Utrecht, was hardly less popular. The greatest painter of Corporation Pictures before Frans Hals was Jan van Ravensteyn (1572–1657).

The early Dutch landscape-painters travelled to Italy, Switzerland, and even Norway; but none of them acquired the reputation of two Dutchmen who found inspiration at home. Jan van Goyen (1596–1656), and Jan Wynants (1620?–1682), were the first to take pleasure in their own country. Van Goyen loved the water, the boats, the clouds, the mist, and distant towns silhouetted against the sky. Wynants showed the charm of the lonely walk that led through the dunes to the sea. Wynants formed Adriaen van de Velde (1635–1672), who carried landscape-painting so far that he comes very close to the Barbizon School of the Nineteenth Century. Then there are two Dutch artists who are doubly famous for their landscapes and animals: Aelbert Cuyp (1620–1691), “the King of Dutch landscape-painters,” noted for his golden light and elegant cavaliers riding fine horses; and Paul Potter (1625–1654), known far and wide for his Bull, in the Hague Gallery, painted when the artist was only twenty-two; but not so fine a work as La Vache qui se mire (The Mirrored Cow) in the same gallery. Of these two pictures the French critic, Burger, wittily remarked:[202] “La Vache qui se mire is a chef-d’œuvre and not a hors d’œuvre, like the Bull!” Supreme as landscape-painters stand Jacob Ruisdael (1628–9–1682), who used as a rule a very dark green and who was able to suggest immense perspectives in very small compass, also for his harmonious relation of earth and sky, and Meindert Hobbema (1638–1709), supposed to have been his pupil, and whose long neglected pictures of long, straight roads beneath tall trees now bring high prices.

Adriaen van Ostade (1610–1685), a pupil of Frans Hals, wandered about the country finding material along the roads. Ostade often caught the poetic side of a rustic scene and he had a commanding knowledge of light.

The Dutch, with their love of home and their simple pleasures, excelled in depicting scenes of intimate life, “Conversation Pieces,” and genre. The list of these worthy painters is long. A few, however, stand out prominently,—Gerard Dou, Gerard Terborch, Jan Steen, Pieter de Hoogh, Jan Vermeer of Delft, Gabriel Metsu, Nicholas Maes, and Frans van Mieris—all painters of the Seventeenth Century, portraying life as they saw it around them, according to the class in which they moved. Terborch, Metsu, and van Mieris showed ladies and gentlemen, beautifully dressed, enjoying music, or playing cards, or having a light afternoon repast, or writing letters, or making love, or talking in the garden, or sitting quietly in a comfortably furnished room; Jan Steen depicted feasts, merry-making, weddings, St. Nicholas celebrations, tavern-scenes, drunken brawls and quack doctors; and Gerard Dou produced simple scenes in the home where servants are at work and mothers sit by the cradle, and sometimes scenes by candle-light with strange reflections, for Gerard Dou was a pupil of Rembrandt and liked to play tricks with chiaroscuro. Another painter, who was a magician with light, is Jan Vermeer of Delft (1632–1675), who was a pupil of Rembrandt’s pupil, Carel Fabritius, and whose pictures are rare and famous (see page 228). Still another artist, remarkable for his knowledge of the complex problems of light, is Pieter de Hoogh or Hooch (1629–1677?), hardly less remarkable for his solid and splendid rendering of architecture, exterior as well as interior (see page 226).

[203]

Moreover, the Dutch excelled in two other genres,—birds and flowers. Melchior d’Hondecoeter (1636–1695), caught all the beauties of the feathered world and had an insight into its society. The Floating Feather, in the Rijk’s Museum, is very celebrated. Burger delightfully wrote of it:

“No one has painted better than Hondecoeter the cocks and hens, ducks and drakes, and particularly little chicks and ducklings. He has understood such families as the Italians have the mystical Holy Family; he has expressed the motherhood of the hen as Raphael has the motherhood of the Madonna. In fact, the subject is more naturally treated because it has less sublimity. Hondecoeter gives us here a mother-hen who could face the Madonna of the Chair. She bends over with solicitude with outspread wings, beneath which peep the excited heads of the little chickens; while on her back is perched the privileged bambino—she does not dare move,—the good mother!”

Melchior d’Hondecoeter was taught by Jan Baptiste Weenix (1621?–1660), painter of dead game, and teacher of his son, Jan Weenix (1640–1719), who often arranged his dead game around the base of a large urn in a private park.

Of fruits and flowers—important subjects in Holland—come the two de Heems, father and son, Jan Davidsz de Heem (1606–1684), the first Dutchman to excel with fruit; Rachel Ruysch (1664–1750), painter of flowers, fruits, bouquets with butterflies and moths fluttering about, old logs and tree stumps in the forest, and deserted birds’ nests. Jan van Huysum (1682–1749) “the Correggio of fruits and flowers,” was famed for his skill in depicting a transparent dewdrop trickling down a satiny petal; and Abraham Mignon (1640–1679), pupil of Jan Davidsz de Heem was a brilliant painter of flowers, fruits, butterflies, insects, and dewdrops.

With Cornelis Troost (1697–1750), called “the Dutch Hogarth,” because of his familiar scenes of comedy, the Decadence begins; and Dutch Painting ceased to be interesting until the middle of the Nineteenth Century.

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#### THE STANDARD BEARER.

Rembrandt van Rijn | Collection of
(1606–1669). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

This picture, oils on canvas (55 × 45½ inches), has the distinction of having belonged to Sir Joshua Reynolds and, after him, to the Earl of Warwick at Warwick Castle. It is signed on the left at the bottom, “Rembrandt fe 1654.” Consequently it was painted the same year as the famous Burgomaster Jan Six. The person has never been identified; but it is supposed that he was the standard-bearer of one of the Amsterdam Shooting Companies. The man is life-size, three-quarter length, with full light falling from the left foreground upon the whole figure. A grey wall with a rusticated pillar at the right forms the background from which the elderly Standard Bearer stands out boldly. He wears a dark-brown coat with gold buttons, a dark bluish green sash, and a rich gold-embroidered sword-belt crossing the chest from the right shoulder. A black hat with a large white plume covers his grey hair, but does not hide his face. In his gloved left hand he carries a red and yellow banner bearing the Arms of the City of Amsterdam and he holds a glove in his right hand. The picture is rich in color and fine in its illumination. From the Earl of Warwick it passed through the Collections of Mr. Charles Sedelmeyer of Paris, Mr. Charles J. Wertheimer of London, and Mr. George J. Gould of New York into that of its present owner.

Rembrandt van Rijn was born in Leiden in 1606, the son of a miller, who sent him to the Leiden University. Young Rembrandt, however, preferred painting and for three years studied under Jacob van Swanenburch, a Leiden painter, who had studied in Italy. Rembrandt had painted a good many pictures before he removed to Amsterdam at the age of twenty-three. He soon became famous in Amsterdam. From the year 1633 the face of a good-natured, buxom young woman, Saskia van Ulenburgh, daughter of a Friesland lawyer, appears on his canvases. In 1634 Rembrandt married Saskia; and Fortune smiled thereafter on everything he did. His orders made him rich[206] and he had a splendid home, filled with collections of many kinds, including antique busts, costumes, curios, and paintings. At this period Rembrandt loved to dress Saskia and himself in fantastic array and paint gay and somewhat theatrical portraits of themselves.

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

THE STANDARD BEARER

—Rembrandt van Rijn

Who does not know the famous picture of Saskia seated on Rembrandt’s knee in the Dresden Gallery, the artist clasping his wife’s waist with his left hand and brandishing in his right hand a long glass of sparkling wine, before them a table covered with an Oriental rug on which is a pastry surmounted by a peacock?

Not so familiar but more beautiful is the portrait in the Hermitage of Saskia dressed as a fanciful shepherdess with a mantle of pale green thrown over her white brocaded gown, in her hand a flower-twined crook, and on her head a heavy, thick wreath of ranunculus, anemones, iris, columbine, and striped red and white tulips. “Innocent and engaging in her brilliant draperies and gaily tinted flowers,” says Emile Michel, “she stands a graceful apparition, the light falling full upon her. Spring itself seems to be singing a paean of love and poetry from the master’s palette, at the dawn of that year which was to bring about the propitious union.”

Rembrandt’s life changed entirely after Saskia’s death in 1642, which, by the way, was the year he painted his most famous picture, The Night Watch (in the Rijks Museum), more properly called The Sortie of the Company of Captain Banning Cock.

Rembrandt became bankrupt in 1656 and his collections of antiques and paintings were sold for a mere 5000 florins! In the following year his house and collection of engravings came also to the hammer. Thenceforward Rembrandt lived with his son, Titus, in a modest dwelling in the Rozengracht, attended by his servant, Hendrickje Stoffels (his reputed wife) until the latter’s death in 1664. The close of Rembrandt’s life in 1669 found him poor, but as industrious as ever. Rembrandt is said to have painted about 550 pictures and to have made more than 250 etchings and 1500 drawings.

The Hague is the place to see the great works of Rembrandt’s early period, such as The Anatomy Lesson, the Presentation in the Temple or Simeon in the Temple, and several portraits of himself[207] and others; and the Rijks Museum has the great productions of his middle and last period, including The Syndics and The Night Watch.

Apart from his individual and amazing portrayal of shadows and light effects, Rembrandt stands alone as the interpreter of the Bible story. In portraiture he is profoundly searching; and no one ever painted more forcible self-portraits than Rembrandt van Rijn.

Of all the qualities that Rembrandt possesses the most striking one is understanding of light and shadow. Fromentin very aptly defines this Rembrandtesque chiaroscuro in his Maîtres d’autrefois (Paris, 1876):

“To envelop and immerse everything in a bath of shadow; to plunge light itself into it only to withdraw it afterwards in order to make it appear more distant and radiant; to make dark waves revolve around illuminated centres, grading them, sounding them, thickening them; to make the obscurity nevertheless transparent, the half gloom easy to pierce, and, finally, to give a kind of permeability to the strongest colors that prevents their becoming blackness,—this is the prime condition and the difficulties of this very special art. It goes without saying that if any one ever excelled in this it was Rembrandt.”

#### PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG OFFICER.

Rembrandt van Rijn | Collection of
(1606–1669). | Mr. A. W. Erickson.

This picture signed lower right, “Rembrandt f. 1636” is painted on a panel, 20 × 25⅞ inches. It is one of Rembrandt’s finest and most pleasing portraits. With masterly skill the artist has painted the light in the eyes and the fine lines and texture of the lips.

The subject is supposed to be François Copal, the brother-in-law of Saskia van Ulenburgh, Rembrandt’s wife, and there is abundant evidence in support of the theory. Dr. Bode in his Rembrandt notes:

“There is a pair of portraits in the Liechtenstein Gallery at Vienna, dated 1636, of a Young Officer with Thick Black Hair and His Wife, in costumes like those in which Rembrandt painted Saskia and himself. The young couple here represented was probably closely connected[208] with the artist and his bride. The husband, whose features are regular, almost handsome, and who has a slight moustache wears a steel gorget and a small gaily-colored neck cloth over his finely plaited silk shirt, a greenish blue cloak hangs from his right shoulder, and his gloved hand rests on the hilt of his sword.

“Portraits of the artist himself and of his relations and friends, are nearly all executed with as much care as the numerous portraits of other persons painted to order at this time. Some few may have been presents to friends and relations; but the majority produced at this period (1633–1635), and that immediately following it were very probably commissions from friends and patrons of the master, the most renowned artist in Holland whose name was soon to be associated with those of the greatest painters in Europe. These pictures had a special attraction over and above their interest as portraits, by virtue of the highly individual costume and conception which add so much to their picturesque effect.”

Dr. W. R. Valentiner, also believing this to be a likeness of Saskia’s brother-in-law, says:

“The portrait of a cavalier, possibly François Copal, is one of the most imposing and impressive of the portraits which Rembrandt painted in the middle of the thirties, at the time when he was approaching the height of his fame as a portrait-painter at Amsterdam. Among the considerable number of portraits which the artist painted to order during these years, the present one (and a companion piece in the Liechtenstein Gallery, Vienna) stand out through the vivid, passionate expression and the personal touch which undoubtedly reflects the artist’s own mood. At no time Rembrandt expresses so much of a youthful, almost wild, temperament in his compositions, at no time he endeavors to give to them such an overpowering force and such an intense, almost sensuous feeling of life, as in these stormy years of his first successes at Amsterdam, which were accompanied by a happy marriage, by social connections, by acquiring riches and almost luxury.

Collection of Mr. A. W. Erickson

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG OFFICER

—Rembrandt van Rijn

“Something of young Samson, of whom the artist was so fond in these years, we feel also in the portrait of a handsome cavalier. We[210] feel the lion’s force behind those glowing, piercing eyes, behind the energetic chin and cheek bones, and the exuberantly flowing, broad waves of the bushy, dark hair remind us of a lion’s mane.

“We easily recognize in Rembrandt’s work those portraits of which the sitters were strangers to him. The present one, in which he put so much of his own self, as he did only with friend’s portraits, does not belong to these. He has ornated the young cavalier with a costume which appealed to his imagination, the details of which we know from portraits of persons in his surroundings and self-portraits: the breast-plate, the colored scarf around the neck, the golden chain with medal-lion, the green velvet mantle with gold-embroidered border. On the companion-piece, on the other hand, the lady wears a costume and pieces of jewelry which we find also in Saskia’s portraits.

“Strange to say, the female figure itself has so much likeness to Saskia that we would be tempted to believe it to be a portrait of her, if there was not the portrait of the cavalier as the companion-picture preventing us from this supposition. But we know that Saskia had a sister, Titia, who visited the Rembrandt family frequently within these years (a portrait-sketch, a pen-drawing made of her in 1639 by Rembrandt is in the Stockholm Museum). She and her husband François Copal, were witnesses at the baptism of Saskia’s first children. We know also a portrait of François Copal’s brother, Antoni, in the Rothschild Collection, Vienna, which Rembrandt painted in 1635. The sitter of this portrait undoubtedly has a resemblance to the gentleman in our picture, almost as much as the companion-piece resembles Saskia. Is thus the theory too bold that the present portrait represents François Copal and the companion-piece at Vienna, Titia, his wife?”

The portrait came to the present owner, Mr. Erickson, directly from the famous Liechtenstein Collection, Vienna, purchased by Prince Liechtenstein from the Marchesa Incontri, Florence. Previously the picture had been in the Collections of the Comte Koucheleff Besborodko, Paris; the Duc de Choiseul Praslin, Paris (1793), and B. da Costa, The Hague (1752).

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#### AN OLD LADY SEATED IN AN ARMCHAIR.

Rembrandt van Rijn | Collection of
(1606–1669). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

This splendid portrait, oils on canvas (42½ × 35½ inches), takes rank with Rembrandt’s famous study of Elizabeth Bas, widow of Admiral Swartenhout, in the Rijks Museum, Amsterdam. It is three-quarters length, life-size, and signed on the left “Rembrandt F. 1643.” The subject is seated in an arm-chair of red leather with her head turned slightly to the left and she is looking in the same direction. She wears a black costume with a tightly fitting jacket lined with fur, a large flat, round, and gauffered ruff, and a flat, dark velvet cap. Her arms rest easily on the arms of the chair and in the right hand she is holding her eyeglasses, while the fingers of her left hand are placed between the leaves of a large book—presumably a Bible, with silver clasps and gilt edges,—a marvellous piece of still-life painting. The background is dark of the brownish Rembrandt tone and the light falls from the left upon the face of the sitter and upon her large ruff. Dr. Bode, in speaking of the lighting of this remarkable portrait, says: “A strong light falls on the broad, gauffered ruff and is reflected on the more softly illuminated face; another ray of light touches the hands with their small white cuffs. The dull red of the chair-back, the subdued glint of the gold edges and silver clasps of the book relieve the blackish tone of the picture almost imperceptibly. It takes a special place among Rembrandt’s portraits by reason of its peculiarly distinguished harmony. In arrangement and illumination it stands midway between the St. Petersburg Portrait of the Old Woman and the numerous studies of old women painted between 1650 and 1660.”

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

AN OLD LADY SEATED IN AN ARMCHAIR

—Rembrandt van Rijn

The picture was sold in Amsterdam in 1764 and has passed through the Collections of J. van der March, Amsterdam, 1773; M. Thelluson, Paris, 1777; an anonymous Parisian collection, 1788; M. C. A. de Calonne, London, 1795; Mr. J. Allmutt, London, 1863; and M. Louis Lebeuf de Montsgermont, Paris.

[214]

#### SIMEON AND MARY PRESENTING THE INFANT CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE.

Rembrandt van Rijn | Collection of
(1606–1669). | Mr. Nils B. Hersloff.

This picture is interesting for two reasons. One, that it belonged to Horace Walpole and hung for many years in Strawberry Hill; and the other, that it is a recently discovered Rembrandt.

It would seem from the present documents that the picture is not many stages away from the painter’s studio. In a case like this, it is best to tell the story of the identification of this Strawberry Hill picture with the Rembrandt studio picture in the words of those most concerned in the matter.

Collection of Mr. Nils B. Hersloff

SIMEON AND MARY PRESENTING THE INFANT CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE

—Rembrandt van Rijn

But first let us read the interesting analysis written by the Rembrandt specialist, Dr. Jan Veth, author of the Life and Art of Rembrandt, published on the commemoration of the 300th anniversary of his birth. This essay is dated Amsterdam, August 2, 1916, when this picture from the Walpole Collection was discovered and sent to Holland.

Dr. Veth speaking:

“A rather large-sized picture, about 39½ × 31½ inches, has recently been imported from England, a picture which one recognized without any difficulty as being a late work by Rembrandt. This unknown work was at first thought to be in a rather dilapidated condition. Evidently long ago it had been relined by an unskilled hand, leaving the canvas badly wrinkled in places. These have been easily removed, the picture slightly restored and apart from a few local blemishes (nowhere occurring in the vital parts) the beautifully crackled and original coat of paint appears unimpaired. Many a museum piece giving the impression of being in a perfect state of preservation is, in reality, much less intact than this Rembrandt.

“The figure of Simeon in the picture reminds us to a certain extent of the figure of Homer in the Collection of Dr. Bredius, but the handling of the paint is more certain, the head firmer and more plastic.[215] In his later period, where his old men bear so much of a resemblance to each other, it was not necessary that Rembrandt should always use the same models. The character, however, of this Simeon is akin to that of St. Matthew in the Louvre, to the father in the Prodigal Son in Petrograd, to the man behind Pilate in the picture in New York, Altman Collection, and to the Haman in the Collection of the King of Roumania.

“For the rest, the peculiar expression of Simeon’s rugged and full bearded countenance can be traced quite easily in that dark, majestic etching of the Presentation in the Temple with the exception that the head in the etching leans slightly more backward. Simeon’s expression depicts in a striking manner the decrepit old man to whom the divine revelation was made, and who, after walking into the Temple, seeing the Child and taking Him into his arms, said: ‘Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word: For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people: A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people, Israel.’ Luke II, 29–32.

“The hermit-like old man wears a wide gold-colored leather mantle. Full of devotion he is holding the Christ Child, without touching Him with his long and stiffened hands.

“The little face appears foreshortened and recalls to one’s mind the strange drawing of the uplifted face of the young Jesus where he walks between his parents in that remarkable etching of the Return from the Temple. Close to Simeon and behind, stands Mary, the inclination of the head and attitude identical with the Virgin in the etching of the Presentation. Over her head she wears a wide, drooping hood, and the greater part of her face—a face of no ordinary maternity and with something of the grandeur so characteristic in Mantegna’s Madonnas—is deeply enveloped in shadows. In contrast with the bronze-like, warm color of the ancient man, she appears cool in tone, the neck only illuminated like enamel against the sombre purple of her frock.

“The group is composed without any additional accessory to distract or allure the spectator, being placed against a background deep[216] and sombre, a great and connected whole. Throughout, the handling of the paint is full and direct without any small or useless accents, a great design treated like sculpture. The stronger colors of brown and red are dissolved in a sombre tone of bronze and with that singular mixture of smothered lights and cave-like half-tones and shadows which give the true expression of the quiet and pathetic event.

“Out of the whole tonality emerges first the powerful head of the old Seer, then the suppressed light of the strange Infant, and finally the beautiful sibyl-like Mary. The picture is full of that inner power of expression which Millet would have admired and Israels would have revelled in.

“In Holland we can point to more complete, perhaps more pompous and more brilliant, Rembrandts, but a picture by the master of such wonderful simplicity and at once of such great eloquence we hardly know of in this country.”

Turning to the Dutch records we learn the following:

“The desire to obtain the minutest detail of information about Rembrandt’s life and works, and perhaps with a wish to discover some allusion to his pictures, has led such men as Dr. Bredius to search among the old Dutch archives for records of ancient deeds in the registries of Amsterdam and near-by towns and villages. This has been no light task, for besides the numberless documents to be examined, the difficulties of deciphering the curious legal language used in the Seventeenth Century had to be combatted. Dr. Bredius’s efforts, however, were rewarded, when, about ten years ago he discovered an ancient deed relating directly to a painting by Rembrandt, and dated May 12, 1671 (two years after his death), signed before a notary named J. De Winter of Amsterdam. The document so unearthed threw light upon a picture entitled Simeon, of which no record had up to the time of Dr. Bredius’s discovery, been known. Dr. Bredius deemed the subject so interesting that he wrote an article dealing with The Last Year of Rembrandt’s Life, which appeared in Oud-Holland in 1909.”

Now we go to the number of Oud-Holland and take this extract.

[217]

Dr. Bredius speaking:

“Although we have learned much of the last years of Rembrandt’s life, of the very last and perhaps the saddest year of that rich life, we have learned little up to the present time. Only one work, that of his own portrait in the collection of Sir Audley Neeld in Griffleton House, seems to bear the date of 1669. We have no other picture and no etching, and in this portrait the master appears so feeble that we had begun to believe that Rembrandt worked but little in the last year of his life.

“That he was, however, still working and planned to do some etchings and also that there was a picture on his easel shortly before he died, is proven by an old deed I have recently discovered. Short as this may be, it nevertheless gives us much important information. Among other things it is new to us that Rembrandt was working up to the time of his death, and that Dirck van Cattenburch, a gentleman dealer with his brother, Otto, as far back as 1654, had business connections with Rembrandt. And here we see the aged master, as often happened and still happens with artists, more or less in the hands of the Art-dealer, who pays for the work before it is finished.

“Perhaps Rembrandt really considered his Simeon a finished picture, but the buyers probably did not, and looked upon his broadly painted canvases of his latest period as not being ‘entirely finished.’ We are not acquainted with any Simeon of his last period.[23] It is also interesting to note from the deed that the artist planned to make a series of etchings of the Passion, a subject which always attracted him and of which he made some of his most wonderful plates. Deed: May 12, 1671, Appeared before me, Allart van Everdingen, age about fifty years and Cornelius van Everdingen, age twenty-five years, both artists living in this town, and on request of Dirck van Cattenburch, do hereby declare that Allart van Everdingen, a few months before the death of Rembrandt van Rijn, artist, had a conversation as to the settling of a painting representing Simeon, painted by the aforesaid Rembrandt van Rijn, not yet entirely finished, owned by Dirck van Cattenburch and being in Rembrandt’s house.

[218]

“That he, witness, went to see and examine the aforesaid picture in the house of van Rijn, who told him at the time that the picture was owned by said Dirck van Cattenburch. The aforesaid Cornelius van Everdingen further declares that he went up to Rembrandt’s studio several times, where, on each occasion, he saw and examined the said picture, which was discussed by them, Rembrandt declaring that the picture was owned by Dirck van Cattenburch. Also that Rembrandt had several polished plates owned by Dirck van Cattenburch in order to engrave the Passion.

- Signed  Allart van Everdingen
- Signed  Cornelius van Everdingen.”

“It is interesting to note that Allart van Everdingen was a well-known painter of the time of Rembrandt and that he was born in 1612. He excelled in painting rocky landscapes. He also executed sea-pieces and storms with such surprising effect and spirit that his work entitled him to the appellation, the ‘Salvator Rosa of the North.’ Allart van Everdingen was also an etcher of repute and in this work there must have existed a bond of sympathy between Rembrandt and himself. He died in 1675, six years after the death of the master. His works are represented in all the great museums. Cornelius van Everdingen, his son, was also an artist, but not so universally known as his more brilliant father.”

Now then we turn to another Dutch authority to continue the story:

“Dr. Bredius, by the remarkable discovery of the ancient deed, had established the fact that a certain picture of Simeon (always identified in Art with The Presentation in the Temple) was in Rembrandt’s studio a few months before his death. But what had become of the picture there was nothing to show, none of the great biographers of the artist has ever classified a work of this subject dating from his last period.

“And now commence the most interesting events connected with the picture under consideration. Many inquiries were instituted. Dr. Bredius, from his rich stock of material bearing upon the master,[219] searched exhaustively for some indication where the picture might be found. The known and unknown private and public collections of Europe and even America were examined through and through, until at last his efforts were rewarded and nine years after the discovery of the deed and his subsequent article, the picture was recognized and acclaimed as the lost Simeon.

“The painting was found in the collection of a nobleman in England, and although it had lain neglected for centuries there could be no possible doubt that it was the picture of Simeon referred to in the deed.

“This discovery occurred in the year 1916, at a time when the world was in the midst of the Great War; but such was the importance of the find that the masterpiece was sent at once to Holland, there to be admired by all of the great Rembrandt authorities.”

Critics have called attention to the fact that the first important picture painted by Rembrandt was Simeon in the Temple which is now in the Mauritshuis, The Hague, and which is also called Presentation in the Temple. It is a little strange that the last picture should have been on the same subject. Yet any one can see they are by the same hand. In the Hague picture it is beneath the high roof of a temple that the Virgin and St. Joseph make the offering and present the Holy Child to the Lord. Simeon, in a robe glittering with gold, holds the Holy Child and the High Priest stands in front of the group, his hands lifted in ecstasy. The latter’s robe of violet makes a beautiful note of color which is carried through the lights and shadows and which contrasts and harmonizes, too, with the Virgin’s dress of light blue. In the vaporous distance persons are seen ascending and descending the steps. All the light is concentrated on the central group and the cold, mysterious depths of the vast fane are expressed with marvellous skill.

Homer Reciting his Poems, also in the Hague Gallery, representing an old man in a yellow robe, has the face of the Strawberry Hill Simeon and Homer was painted in 1663. It could be possible that the same model was used for Homer and the Strawberry Hill Simeon.

How did Horace Walpole get this Rembrandt?

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The information that we gain from the Catalogue of the Strawberry Hill Collection issued when Earl Waldegrave sold the contents of Strawberry Hill at Covent Garden in 1842 is rather tantalizing than otherwise.

The items read as follows.

On Page XVII of prefatory remarks:

“A Fine Rembrandt (No. 100) and a Nicholas Poussin adorn this end of the chamber. Page 204. The great North Bed Chamber: No. 100. The Presentation in the Temple, displaying all the power of light and shade so peculiar to this great master, Rembrandt.

“The above two pictures No. 99 and 100 were bought from a very old gentlewoman for whose grandfather they had been painted, and till then had never been taken out of their old black frames and are still in their pure and genuine state.”

Was the “very old gentlewoman” the grand-daughter of Dirck van Cattenburch?

#### PORTRAIT OF AN OFFICER.

Frans Hals | Collection of
(1580?–1666). | Mr. Henry Goldman.

The subject, which we might almost call a Dutch Falstaff, is seated in a chair on the arm of which he rests his right elbow, while he seems to be grasping a stick with his hand. The left hand is hidden. Beneath his large grey felt hat with its wide turned-up brim a few locks of straggly grey hair are visible. His doublet is of grey silk with a dotted pattern (long anticipating the “Polka Dot” of the early Nineteenth Century), a surcoat of buff leather, and a broad, flat collar, trimmed with handsome and heavy lace, worn over a metal breast-plate. The Officer looks directly at us with a half-humorous, half-suspicious glance,—one of those characteristic Frans Hals’s expressions.

The picture, oils on canvas (32½ × 25¾) bears the monogram F. H. and the words “Ætat 55. A. 1637.” It was sold from the Collection of Mr. J. H. Töpfer in Amsterdam in 1841 and then it was in the Collection of Sir Edgar Vincent (Lord d’Abercorn) at Esher.

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Collection of Mr. Henry Goldman

PORTRAIT OF AN OFFICER

—Frans Hals

[222]

Frans Hals (1580?–1666), one of the greatest masters of painting, was born in Antwerp, where his parents (natives of Haarlem, and of good lineage), are supposed to have gone because of political disturbances of the time. It seems that Hals was settled in Haarlem before 1591, busily painting, and he lived there all the rest of his life. In 1637 he came under Rembrandt’s influence in Amsterdam. Hals’s life was rather disgraceful and went from bad to worse until poverty and comparative oblivion compelled him to accept charity. He died in Haarlem in 1666, leaving a great many followers. The real life of the man is to be found in such works as The Laughing Cavalier in the Wallace Collection and those vagabonds, lute-players, topers, and other rascals that belong to the same class as Autolycus, Launcelot Gobbo, Touchstone, Dogberry, Sir Toby Belch, Falstaff and our other much-prized, although disreputable, Shakespearian low-comedy characters.

Hals always accomplished his work by the greatest economy of means. A few broad, rapid, and unhesitating strokes, or swipes, of the brush, a dot here and there of light,—and that is all!

Everything that Hals painted shows his dazzling genius, his astounding instinct for striking effects, and his marvellous ability for catching a likeness. Hals never worked out his ideas: he left no sketches, nor studies. His extraordinary power of quick analysis with the eye and the gift his hand had for expressing what his eye had seen, combined with a rapid, sure, and skilled technique rank Hals as a master among masters.

Moreover, he had a keen and gay humor. No painter has ever been able like Hals to render the face in action and to fix forever, a rapid and fleeting expression on canvas. He loved to catch and make permanent a wink, a smile, a leer, or even hearty laughter.

Frans Hals was a genius at portraiture. Those who have seen the large number of Hals’s Doelen pictures in the Town Hall of Haarlem, each canvas containing from fourteen to twenty life-size portraits, stand aghast at the power represented in just this one phase of his art.

When we look upon these pictures we feel as if we were entering a[224] hall full of convivial officers, laughing, jesting and making merry over their fine wines and choice food. They are richly dressed. Many of them wear lace cuffs and ruffs and bright scarves. Flags flutter, spears glitter, spurs and swords clink and rattle and flash in the sunlight; and plumes on the large hats nod in the breeze, or with the motions of these men’s bodies. Loud talk and bursts of laughter seem to issue from the frames. These convivial men have fought against the hated Spaniard and are ready “to trail a pike” again at any moment. A gallant and a jovial crowd,—these Arquebusiers of St. George and St. Andrew!

The artist was commanded to paint each man accurately and according to his rank in the Company; and Hals did more than fill his order,—he made each and every man live.

#### THE LAUGHING MANDOLIN PLAYER.

Frans Hals | Collection of
(1580–1666). | Mr. John R. Thompson.

Here is a half-figure of a young man seated, turning his head towards the spectator, and laughing merrily as he holds up a glass of wine in his right hand. His mandolin is lying on the table beside him and his left fingers close around its neck. He wears a dark cloak lined with blue and a large black cap thrown carelessly at the side of his head and his hair is unkempt and straggly. But what cares he? He has sung his song and played his tune and has been rewarded well,—well enough, indeed, to have a glass of good wine. So no wonder he laughs! Life is a joke anyway—“So here’s to the company and thank you, gentlemen!”

Collection of Mr. John R. Thompson

THE LAUGHING MANDOLIN PLAYER

—Frans Hals

The picture is an oil painting on panel (36 × 30 inches), and is signed with the monogram F. H.

The Laughing Mandolin Player belonged to the Capello Collection, Amsterdam, from which it was sold in 1767, and then it passed to Count Bonde, Stockholm; to Jules Porges, Paris; to the late Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild, Waddeston Manor, England; and to M. A. Veil-Picard, Paris.

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#### A MUSIC PARTY.

Pieter de Hoogh | Collection of
(1629–1677?). | Mrs. John N. Willys.

Here are six figures in the reception bedroom of a prosperous merchant or citizen. The dominant note of the apartment is red. The floor is paved with square blocks of marble. The primary interest of the picture is in the group on the left, consisting of two fashionably dressed gentlemen and an elegantly attired lady at a table over which is spread an Oriental “table-carpet.” The lady, dressed in a scarlet skirt, an old-gold overskirt and bodice and a deep white lace collar, is looking at the spectator and singing from a piece of music which she is holding in her left hand, her right being raised as if to beat time. Standing near her and smilingly accompanying her in her song is a young gentleman with long hair and wearing a white jacket and a broad-brimmed hat. With his right hand he is holding a long funnel-shaped glass partly filled with wine. Seated opposite and looking intently at the lady is a middle-aged gentleman with long hair and yellow jacket, holding a flageolet with both hands, and apparently waiting for the note at which he may join in the accompaniment. On the table are the flageolet player’s high-crowned hat with red feathers, an open book of music and a glass. In the background are standing figures of a lady and gentleman in conversation, and near-by is an attendant in brown dress holding a wine-jar in his left hand and abstractedly looking out of the window. In the background is a bed enclosed with curtains. Two windows to left and right open on to a garden, a portion of which, adorned with statues, is seen through an open doorway on the extreme right.

Collection of Mrs. John N. Willys

A MUSIC PARTY

—Pieter de Hoogh

The picture, oil on a panel (24 × 28 inches), was formerly in the Collections of Edmund Higginson of Saltmarshe Castle, England, 1846; George H. Morland, Esq., London, a well-known amateur, a descendant of George Morland, the artist, 1863; and Albert Levy, London, 1874.

[227]

Pieter de Hoogh (or Hooch) is thought to have been born in Rotterdam. Little is known of his life. He seems to have been a servant in his early years employed by Justus de la Grange and to have lived in Delft, in Leiden and in The Hague. In some way he learned to paint; some authorities say he studied under Rembrandt’s pupil Carel Fabritius, Houbraken says he was a fellow-student with Jacob Ochtevelt under Nicholaes Berchem. In 1653 Pieter de Hoogh became a member of the Guild of Painters in Delft and he married in that city and lived there Until 1664. Next he is living in The Hague and after that in Amsterdam. Pieter de Hoogh is ranked as one of the best of the “Little Dutch Masters.” His pictures show a particularly fine mastery in the action of light. He almost invariably opens a door in the background leading into a garden or into an adjoining room. He groups his figures interestingly and tells his simple story in paint graphically and convincingly. His architecture is always remarkably fine and his drawing is second to none.

Pieter de Hoogh was neglected for many years, but to-day he is deeply appreciated. Burger says he never saw any picture by de Hoogh that was not of the first rank: “Sometimes he paints interiors—people are playing cards, or having a family concert, or reading, or drinking, or conversing. Sometimes he paints exteriors; and then the painter introduces us to domestic occupations and the innocent recreations of private life, as, for instance, a servant washing linen in a backyard, or cleaning fish, or plucking fowl, or perhaps there are ladies and their cavaliers playing at bowls in a garden with trim gravelled walks.

“When he paints interiors this artist rarely neglects to show, on the right or left, doors opening on a staircase or revealing a leafy alley, or the trees along a quay, so that his pictures always seem to be the antechamber of another picture. In this characteristic style of de Hoogh when the interior of the apartment is moderately lighted the sun shines outside. Pieter de Hoogh seems to have been in Rembrandt’s secrets.”

[228]

#### THE LACE-MAKER.

Jan Vermeer | Collection of
(1632–1675). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

This delightful picture on panel (17¾ × 15½ inches) was only discovered in 1926. On its exhibition at the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in 1926–1927 in Berlin, Dr. Wilhelm Bode wrote: “I consider it a genuine, perfect, and very characteristic work of Jan Vermeer of Delft. Not only has it the true Vermeer charm as to the lighting and coloring, but at the same time there is an extraordinary fascination in the expression of the face, still half that of a child.” Dr. Max J. Friedländer also pronounced it “a genuine and highly characteristic work by Vermeer of Delft.”

The young girl is seen at half-length with her head turned towards the observer and her eyes looking straight out of the picture. She is busy making lace on a pillow, or cushion, which is supported on a frame with two upright posts. In her left hand she is holding a bobbin. Her costume is a yellow jacket, or bodice, with broad white collar and broad white cuffs. Her brown hair, arranged very simply, is adorned with a tiny knot of blue ribbon. The handsome pear-shaped pearls in her ears proclaim that she is in more than affluent circumstances and that she is a young Dutch lady of some position, making lace for her pleasure and not to earn a living. At her left elbow is a blue cushion and a large pewter dish.

The Lace-Maker is in every way a picture of charm and one of the most thoroughly attractive that Vermeer ever produced.

[229]

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

THE LACE-MAKER

—Jan Vermeer

When it came to light in 1926 it was cordially welcomed. Seymour de Ricci published a long article under the title of Le Quarante-et-Unième Vermeer in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts (December, 1927), which says in part:

“Seated, with her work on her knees and her bobbins in her hand, she stops in her occupation for a moment to look at the spectator. On the right, upon the corner of a table, covered with an Oriental rug, a flat dish of pewter and a blue cushion ornamented with three rows of[230] gold braid and two gold tassels—that is the entire subject of the picture!

“It needed the consummate art of a Vermeer to produce with this slender material such a veritable chef-d’œuvre. Many painters would doubtless have tried to place this fresh figure in a striking setting. A Gerard Dou would have framed her in a window; a Metsu would have surrounded her with furniture; and a Pieter de Hoogh would have felt compelled to let us see through an open door into the next room, or into a bright flower garden. The bolder and much greater painter, Vermeer, places his model before a white wall, the plaster of which in the course of two centuries has combined ivory reflections with the pearly gray of clouds in springtime. Upon the clearness of this wall this youthful figure stands out with striking clarity: the faint rosy tints of the complexion, the whiteness of the broad flat collar and cuffs and the bright yellow of the bodice form a scale of colors that are juxtaposed with singular frankness and boldness. It is only in the flesh tints that the painter allows himself to bring the model into relief: in everything else he shows an affection for flat surfaces and flat tints. His touch is so light that in places—noticeably in the whites—each stroke of the brush has left its trace. The artist has proceeded by circular blots juxtaposed, announcing therefore a technique which certain French artists pretend to have discovered at the end of the Nineteenth Century.

“In everything here Vermeer the colorist takes precedence of Vermeer the draughtsman. There is not a line in the entire picture,—nothing but the juxtaposition of color-tones. A magnifying glass is impotent to make us discover the bridge of the nose, the profile of the cheek or the fingers. The eyebrows are barely indicated, the brown hair is treated in large luminous masses, and even the bobbins which to the naked eye seem to be drawn with such punctilious exactitude are merely indicated, but with such correctness and such prodigious skillfulness of touch that the illusion of the detail is most complete, even for the instructed spectator.

“In this charming composition, the greatest of Dutch colorists has taken pleasure in playing the entire scale of his favorite colors. In[231] the brown masses of the hair he has placed a tiny blue ribbon, echoing the large blue surface of the cushion. On the other hand, on this same cushion three rows of dark yellow braid echo the bright ochre of the bodice. In the very centre of the picture the cherry red of the little smiling mouth throws a note more brilliant than the artist dared to place on the rose cheeks of his model white with the reflections from the large starched collar. All the lower part of the picture is in deep half-light which is brightened by the red and blue tones of the table-carpet and the luminous reflections of the pewter dish. The curious observer will notice that the painter was not afraid to change the centre of his composition towards the right, indifferent to the traditions of its accepted place, just as he was to the methods of his fore-runners with regard to the use of color.

“It has been attempted more than once to elucidate the mystery of the technical methods to which is due the incredible luminosity of Vermeer’s pictures. It has even been thought that he painted on a groundwork of some very bright color; but it has been correctly remarked that such a groundwork—if he had employed it—would at the end of two centuries have become visible under the painting and would have necessarily assimilated the colors. Others have suggested a preliminary preparation of water colors or gum. But, in truth, we are perfectly ignorant of how this amazing and incontestable result has been attained. This newly discovered picture reveals nothing to us relative to Vermeer’s technique, and although the painting is so lightly done and of so thin a coating, it has taken on its surface something of the hardness and brilliance of porcelain; and fine crackles have broken all through this suggesting the paste of porcelain.

The Lace-Maker was in the Collection of Harold R. Wright, Esq., of London, before it passed to the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

Jan Vermeer of Delft (1632–1675) was a pupil of Carel Fabritius, who was a pupil of Rembrandt—consequently Vermeer had the best training. Lemke’s eulogy is worth reading:

“Vermeer was a painter of the light and sun school; and this was his chief study—to catch and hold fast the moment. What Frans Hals did for the physiognomy, grasping the flying moment in an incomparable[232] manner with winks, smiles, leers, gesticulation, etc., and fixing it in paint, Vermeer as a landscape painter, delighted to do for the sunshine. He shows its rays streaming into a room, or the play of light and shadow when the light with the moving air falls through heavy foliage against a bright house and paints it with rays of light and shade. Unlike the moment of Rembrandt and Ruisdael, which is fixed for all eternity, with Vermeer the moment vibrates in the light. The shadows lose their sharp outlines and the fine brush-work suggests the living change and play of the light. Rembrandt paints light in darkness and lets it glow in the dark or streaming into it, or in a broad flood of brilliance; but Vermeer prefers to set darkness or twilight against the light.”

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[235]

## GERMAN PAINTING

Painting reached its greatest development in Germany from the middle of the Fifteenth to the middle of the Sixteenth Century during the Renaissance and the Reformation. The dominating personalities were Albrecht Dürer and Hans Holbein the Younger.

The early German painters devoted their talents almost exclusively to altar-pieces. The chief centres of activity were Cologne, Colmar, Ulm, Nuremberg, and Augsburg. Cologne was the most important and had much influence upon the neighboring Flemings. As early as the Thirteenth Century Wolfram van Eschenbach, describing his handsome Knight in Parsifal, declares that

“From Koln nor from Maestricht
No limner could excel him.”

The first important Cologne painter is Meister Wilhelm, first half of the Fourteenth Century, followed by Meister Stephan Lochner (active 1430–1451), possibly his pupil, painter of the great altar-piece in the Cologne Cathedral, the “Dom-bild”, which every painter tried to see. Albrecht Dürer, for instance, wrote in his Journal: “Item. I have paid two silver pennies to have the picture opened, which Meister Stephan painted at Cologne.”

Heine, many years later, sang of the wondrous eyes of the Madonna in that picture in the Cologne Cathedral that reminded him of his beloved; and the idea is most beautifully emphasized in the musical setting of that little song by Robert Franz, who expresses in his accompaniment all of the emotion aroused by the painting.

The Cologne painters were much influenced by Roger van der Weyden, who seems to have visited Cologne in 1450. Certainly Martin Schöngauer (about 1445–1491) was a follower of Roger, if not a personal pupil. Schöngauer is remarkable among other things for the weird and fantastic creatures he frequently introduced into his pictures.[236] Martin Schöngauer, regarded as the precursor of Dürer, was much admired by the Italian painters, who called him “Il bel Martino.” Michelangelo is said to have copied in oils his celebrated print of Saint Anthony tormented by Demons and he was a friend of Perugino and exchanged drawings with him. The two Germans of next importance were Bartholomäus Zeitblom of Ulm (1450?–1521), who, like Martin, belongs to the Swabian School, and Michael Wohlgemut (1434?–1519?), the leading spirit of the Franconian School, who worked especially in the Nuremberg churches.

In the picturesque town of Nuremberg, with its peaked gables, overhanging balconies, and quaint façades, town of wood-carvers, goldsmiths, and toy-makers, town of Hans Sachs and the Meistersinger, the house of Dürer is still shown to tourists.

Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528), one of the giants in art, was supreme master in wood-cuts, etchings, and drawings as well as in paintings. Dürer, too, is one of the greatest portrait-painters (see page 237).

In Augsburg, the leading commercial city of Southern Germany, there were many wealthy art-lovers, such as the Fuggers, famous merchant-princes of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries. The leading painter was Hans Holbein the Elder (1470?–1524), much influenced by Martin Schöngauer and also by the Italians. He trained his gifted son, Hans Holbein the Younger (1497–1543), who completely overshadowed him. The latter went to Basle and eventually to London, where he became Court-Painter to Henry VIII (see page 240).

Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472–1553), leader of the Saxon School, was a contemporary of Dürer and Holbein, pupil of his father, and, in common with most German artists, excelled as an engraver on wood and copper and designer, as well as a painter. Cranach was Court-Painter to three Saxon Electors (see page 251).

Lucas Cranach the Younger (1515–1586) was a pupil of his father, but was far below him in talent and performance.

[237]

#### PORTRAIT OF A MAN.

Albrecht Dürer | Collection of the
(1471–1528). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

We should like to know—but we never shall—the name of the man who looks so keenly from this picture (12¾ × 15⅝ inches). All that is known of it is that it belonged to the Collection of Count Bonde, of Stockholm, before it found its present home.

Albrecht Dürer was a great painter of portraits. He began early. Indeed the first authentic drawing by him is a portrait of himself at the age of thirteen, which is preserved in the Albertina, Vienna.

At all periods of his life, Dürer painted and drew portraits. To the early Nuremberg period belongs Frederic the Wise, tempera on linen (Berlin), and he painted a Portrait of his Father in 1497 (of which there are several versions). Then there is Oswald Krell in the Munich Gallery and a Portrait of Himself, a Portrait of a Young Man at Hampton Court Palace and the very famous Hieronymus Holtzschuher in Berlin.

Dürer’s one idea was to give as exact a representation of the sitter as possible; and if he painted character as well as the features, it was because his penetrating eye saw directly through the person. There was no conscious analysis or deep ponderings of any kind. Dürer simply saw the person and painted him; and he painted him so well that we see him, too, just the man he was. Dürer was like a camera; he depicted every wrinkle and every hair with an amazing effect of reality and he caught the personality as well. Nothing seems to have been hidden from his eyesight and nothing seems to have been beyond the power of his brush.

Albrecht Dürer was the son of a goldsmith of Hungarian origin who had spent some time in the Netherlands. In 1455 he settled in Nuremberg, where Albrecht was born in 1471, the third of eleven children. His father intended him for a goldsmith, but, seeing his talent, apprenticed him to Michael Wolgemuth to serve three years. Of this period Dürer wrote: “God gave me diligence so that I learned well. And when I had served my time, my father sent me away and I was absent four years until my father needed me again; and I set out in 1490[238] after Easter, so I returned in 1494 after Whitsuntide. And when I returned home Hans Frey treated with my father and gave me his daughter, Agnes, and he gave me with her two hundred florins; and the marriage was celebrated on the Monday before St. Margaret’s Day in the year 1494.”

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

PORTRAIT OF A MAN

—Albrecht Dürer

The story that Dürer’s wife was a shrew who led him an unhappy life is now exploded.

In 1505 Dürer went to Italy and spent some time in Venice, where he painted for the Guild of German merchants and their Fondaco dei Tedeschi, The Feast of the Rosary, which is now in the monastery of Strahow near Prague.

Returning to Nuremberg in 1507 Dürer painted some of his finest altar-pieces. In 1511 he began his fine sets of wood-cuts and etchings—the Apocalypse, the Great Passion, the Little Passion, the Life of the Virgin and St. Jerome in his Study. To this period belongs the large altar-piece Adoration of the Trinity, in the Belvedere at Vienna. In 1518 Dürer was in Augsburg and in 1520–1521 he travelled in the Low Countries. Once back in Nuremberg, he seems to have worked quietly and industriously until his death in 1528.

In forming any estimate of Dürer it is essential to remember that Dürer was a great expression and a great flowering of the German race. Mrs. Heaton has well summed up his characteristics: “We do not find,” she says, “in Dürer’s art the classic ideal of the perfection of man’s physical nature, nor the spiritual ideal of the early religious painters, nor the calm dignity and rich sensuous beauty of the great masters of the Italian Renaissance, but in it we find a noble expression of the German mind, with its high intellectual powers, its daring speculative philosophy, its deep-seated reverence, its patient laboriousness, and above all its strange love for the weird and grotesque. Dürer was the companion of some of the most learned and thoughtful men of his day. Luther and Melancthon were among the number of his friends, and there is no doubt but the reforming spirit of the age was powerfully at work within him, affecting his thought and art. Melancthon bears testimony to his rare worth as a man by saying: ‘his least merit was his art.’”

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#### PRINCE EDWARD OF ENGLAND.

Hans Holbein the Younger | Collection of the
(1497–1543). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

This portrait is one of the finest that Holbein ever painted. The artist had every reason to do his best, for the picture was intended as a New Year’s Gift to Henry VIII of his little son, the Prince of Wales, who was nearly two years old. The King was so delighted with the picture that he presented Holbein with a magnificent gold standing-cup with cover. Prince Edward (who became Edward VI) was the son of Jane Seymour, the third wife of Henry VIII, who only lived twelve days after Prince Edward’s birth at Hampton Court Palace on October 12, 1537. By the Peace Treaty of Scotland in 1543, it was arranged that Prince Edward should marry Mary, Queen of Scots, at that time but a few months old; but this came to nothing, owing to “the grasping greed” of Henry VIII, whose ambition was to absorb the Crown of Scotland and whose purpose was discovered by the patriotic Scotch. On the death of Henry VIII in January 1547, the Prince of Wales succeeded to the throne and was crowned on February 20, 1547, as Edward VI. Edward, on the point of death, bequeathed the Crown in 1553 to Lady Jane Grey, daughter of his cousin, Frances Grey, eldest daughter of Mary, the daughter of Henry VII, and who was married to the son of the Duke of Northumberland. On July 6, 1553, the young King Edward VI died and was buried the next day in Henry VII’s Chapel, Westminster Abbey.

The portrait in oil on a panel (21¾ × 17 inches) was painted in 1538. The little prince is wearing a red and gold costume and red and gold hat with white feather. The background is gold.

His hands are marvellously painted, particularly the right, which is a triumph of foreshortening. The left hand holds a silver rattle.

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

PRINCE EDWARD OF ENGLAND

—Hans Holbein the Younger

The Latin inscription painted at the base was written by Sir Richard Morysin (who became English Ambassador to the Hanse towns in 1646 and to the Court of the Emperor Charles V in 1550). The eulogy is addressed to Henry VIII, through the child; and it is[242] well for Edward VI that he did not live to learn the verdict that time has passed upon this Bluebeard of History. Translated it reads:

“Little one, imitate thy father and be the heir of his virtue, the world contains nothing greater. Heaven and Nature could scarcely give a son whose glory should surpass that of such a father. Do thou but equal the deeds of thy parent: the desires of man cannot go beyond this. Surpass him and thou hast surpassed all the kings the world has ever worshipped and none will ever surpass thee.”

Can flattery go beyond this?

For many years this portrait hung in the Royal Picture Gallery at Hanover in Germany, probably taken there by one of the Georges, all of whom preferred their Hanoverian Court to that of England. In late years the picture belonged to the Duke of Cumberland, whose father was King of Hanover until Prussia absorbed that kingdom in 1866.

Hans Holbein, born in Augsburg in 1497, was taught by his father, Hans Holbein the Elder, as was also his elder brother, Ambrose. About 1515 these two young Holbeins went to Basle, where there was plenty of work for artists, for Basle had long been a centre of intellectual and artistic life. Holbein’s talents won recognition; and among other kinds of work he drew designs for title-pages and various decorations for books. Some marginal drawings for The Praise of Folly by Erasmus, led to a friendship with that distinguished personage, which was destined eventually to change his entire life. Holbein also painted in fresco the council chamber of the new Rathaus in Basle and also the famous votive picture The Meier Madonna, representing the Burgomaster, Jacob Meier of Basle, kneeling with his family before the Virgin. He also painted several portraits of Erasmus. In 1526 Holbein decided to visit England, taking a letter of introduction from Erasmus to Sir Thomas More and stopping on the way at Antwerp to visit Quentin Massys. Holbein remained in London two years, returned to his family in Basle in 1528, bought a house, designed for goldsmiths, worked again on his unfinished frescoes in the Rathaus, made another portrait of Erasmus and painted the faces of clocks. In 1532 Holbein decided to return to London,[243] where, after a period of working in the German colony, he became Court-Painter to Henry VIII with a salary of thirty pounds a year and rooms in the Palace. From that time onward Holbein painted everybody of importance in Tudor England. He also aided in the street decorations for Anne Boleyn’s Coronation procession and festivities. Holbein was also sent on various missions by Henry VIII to paint portraits; also in 1538 to Brussels, to paint the portrait of the young widow, Christina of Denmark, Duchess of Milan; and in 1539, to Cleves, to paint Anne, sister of the Duke.

These two portraits were ordered by the King with a view to matrimony, in case they met with his favor. The first portrait (now in the National Gallery, London) representing, in her mourning garb of black satin, Christina the young widow of Francesco Sforza, brother of Maximilian Sforza (see page 148) and who was, moreover, niece of the Emperor Charles V, in every way, therefore, a distinguished and desirable bride, pleased Henry VIII so well that he offered his royal hand on seeing it. But the wise young Duchess, declining the hand replied sarcastically “that unfortunately she had only one head; if she had two, one would be at His Majesty’s service.” The other portrait of Anne of Cleves (now in the Louvre), in purple velvet flashing with jewels, standing full face, with beautifully painted hands laden with rings and clasped gracefully, gained for this lady the Royal Bluebeard; but only for a short time. The portrait was too flattering of the “Flanders Mare”, as Henry VIII called her, and the fourth wife was soon divorced.

In 1538 Holbein went to Basle on a mission for the King, visited his wife and children and, refusing liberal offers from the municipality of Basle to remain there, returned to London. Back again in his English quarters, he continued his painting until he died in 1543, supposedly of the Plague, which was then raging.

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#### SIR THOMAS MORE.

Hans Holbein | Collection of the late
(1497–1543). | Mr. Henry Clay Frick.

This was one of the first portraits that Holbein painted in England and was done in 1526–1527, while Holbein was a guest in Sir Thomas’s delightful home at Chelsea. It is a life-size, half-length portrait on panel (23¼ × 29¼ inches), representing Sir Thomas in a dark-green coat with purple velvet sleeves, fur collar, and large hat. The conspicuous and heavy double S-chain of gold with a double rose pendant, significant of the union of the Red and White Roses of Lancaster and York, was only permitted to Knights. His right hand holds a paper and the arm rests on a table, on which the date is inscribed.

This portrait was painted before Sir Thomas More became Lord Chancellor in 1529.

“His face,” says Dr. Alfred Woltman, “shows that calm repose which indicated the utmost harmony of nature and inward peace; but the expression is one of the deepest seriousness, though gentleness is linked with it. The finely-cut lips are firmly closed; there is something almost visionary in the bright and penetrating glance, though otherwise the features betoken clear judgment, combined with moral strictness and nobility of feeling. In looking at the picture the words occur to us with which Erasmus in another passage concisely sums up More’s characteristics: ‘He possessed that beautiful ease of mind, or, still better, that piety and prudence with which he joyfully adapts himself to everything that comes, as though it were the best that could come.’”

Sir Thomas More was born in 1478 in Cheapside, London, the son of Sir John More, and was beheaded in 1535 for refusing to support the Act of Supremacy. More was one of the most intellectual and highly cultured men of his time. He wrote one of the most famous of books, Utopia. Sir Thomas was also a fine critic of painting. He was knighted in 1521.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry Clay Frick

SIR THOMAS MORE

—Hans Holbein the Younger

Erasmus gives a picture of Sir Thomas and his home in a letter to Ulrich von Hutten, written from Chelsea. He says:

[246]

“More has built near London upon the Thames a modest but commodious house. There he lives surrounded by his large family—his wife, his son, his son’s wife, his three daughters and their husbands with eleven grand-children. There is not any man living so affectionate to his children as he, and he loveth his old wife as if she were a girl of fifteen. Such is the goodness of his nature that whatsoever cometh about which cannot be helped he is as cheerful and well satisfied as if the best had happened. In More’s house you would say that the Academy of Plato lived again save that whereas in the Academy the conversation turned upon geometry and the power of numbers, the house at Chelsea is a true school of Christian religion. In it is no one, man or woman, but studdieth the liberal arts, yet above all piety is their care. There is never any seen idle; the head of the house governs it, not by lofty demeanor and frequent rebukes, but by gentle and lovable manners. Everyone is busy in his place doing his business with diligence; nor is sober mirth absent.”

#### DIRK BERCK OF COLOGNE.

Hans Holbein | Collection of the
(1497–1543). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

When Holbein returned to England on his second trip in 1532, his friend and patron, Sir Thomas More, was out of favor. However, he found a cordial welcome among his compatriots—the German merchants of the Steelyard. These German merchants had formed themselves into an association of real power: indeed, they had made a little city of their own, which went by the name of Stahlhof, where they managed all their business, kept their stores, had their counting-houses, their Bourse, their Guildhall, and their homes; and, being Germans, of course they had a festival-hall and spacious gardens on the bank of the Thames, where they could enjoy themselves. The company, forming a part of the great Hanseatic League, was opulent and dealt largely in iron and precious metals.

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Collection of The Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

DIRK BERCK OF COLOGNE

—Hans Holbein the Younger

Consequently, among the group were skilled goldsmiths, watch-makers, armorers, and many other prosperous artisans as well as[248] bankers. The brilliant painter had no difficulty in getting orders for portraits; and we may be very sure that after he had produced such a masterly likeness as that of Georg Gisze (now in the Berlin Museum), he must have been in even greater demand, as the numbers of “steelyard portraits” scattered in various galleries attest.

This particular portrait in oils on panel (21 × 16¾ inches) was painted in 1536, as we learn from the right hand corner, which bears the date and the sitter’s age, “An 1536 Aeta. 30.” Dirk Berck of Cologne appears at half-length facing us full face from a background of blue relieved by a green curtain with red strings. Dirk Berck is dressed in a heavy, black, and lustrous silk cloak with a wide collar, an embroidered shirt showing at the opening at the neck, a flat cap (something like a biretta) at a slight angle on his head, with his hair cut in a fringe (or “bobbed”) that nearly covers his ears. He has a slight moustache and a full square-cut beard, which makes him appear older than his thirty years. His small eyes are dark blue and intelligent, his brows are black, his cheek bones are prominent, and his general expression is serious and rather kindly. His hands rest one upon the other, the right one on top, while the left, placed on the table, holds a letter addressed to himself: “Dem Ersame ’U (N) d fromen Derick berk i. London upt. Stalhof” with the trademark of his house and the motto, “besad dz end” (consider the end). A small piece of paper lying on the red-covered table bears this Latin sentence from Virgil: “Olim meminisse juvabit” (Hereafter I shall be remembered) which speaks well for Dirk Berck’s estimation of Holbein and his intelligent forecast of ours.

The portrait came from the Collection of Lord Leconfield, Petworth, Sussex, and was formerly in the Collection of Colonel Egremont Wyndham, also of Petworth, Sussex, and the Earls of Egremont.

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#### JEAN DE DINTEVILLE.

Hans Holbein | Collection of
(1497–1543). | Mr. Henry Goldman.

This gentleman in black costume with black cap and white shirt sits at a table covered with a red cloth (one of Holbein’s favorite arrangements), and in front of an apple-green curtain. Around his neck he wears a fine gold chain and a black ribbon, to which is attached a little case of gold studded with jewels. His eyes are very blue but rather cold, giving one the idea that Jean de Dinteville is something of a dreamer. His hands, beautifully drawn and painted, gain additional grace from the fine ruffles at his wrists. In his right hand he holds a roll of paper (most likely a musical composition), and the left fingers close around the neck of a lute. On the table before him two books are lying—one shut and one open—and both books are supplied with green book-marks, that draw the rest of the picture into harmony with the green curtain at the back.

Collection of Mr. Henry Goldman

JEAN DE DINTEVILLE

—Hans Holbein the Younger

This portrait, in oils on panel (17½ × 17½ inches), is supposed to be the same one listed in the inventory of Alethea, Countess of Arundel, in 1654 as Ritratto d’un Musico.

It was in the Collection of Ralph Bernal, London, and sold at Christie’s in 1855 to Mr. Morant for 100 guineas; subsequently, the picture was in the Collection of Sir John Ramsden, Bart., Bulstrode Park, Buckinghamshire, having been purchased by him at an auction in Scotland in 1860.

Jean de Dinteville, Lord of Polisy and Bailly of Troyes, was born in 1504 and died in 1555. After having served as a diplomat in the Court of Francis I, he was sent as Ambassador to England in 1553, in which year Holbein painted him with George de Selve in the large picture known as The Ambassadors, now in the National Gallery, London. In this picture Jean de Dinteville stands on the left, wearing a black kilted costume, which includes a cloak lined with white fur. Around his neck is a heavy gold chain with the French Order of Saint Michel, at his side is a dagger with gold hilt and sheath, and his[251] black cap is ornamented with a silver skull set in gold. A lute, a case of flutes, and a music-book near him proclaim the musician. This picture is dated 1553.

#### CARDINAL ALBRECHT AS SAINT HIERONYMUS.

Lucas Cranach the Elder | Collection of
(1472–1553). | Mr. John Ringling.

This picture (49 × 35¼ inches), came into possession of the present owner from Baron Viehweg of Hanover, in whose family it had been since the time of Cranach.

All of Cranach’s delightful characteristics are represented here. It is interesting to compare this painting with Dürer’s print of St. Jerome in his Study, the latter so serious and the one represented here so merry. Cranach’s St. Jerome reminds us of a jolly old German folksong. In this perfectly Teutonic setting with characteristic German furniture and the favorite “antler” chandelier, nothing has been forgotten; and St. Jerome in his red Cardinal’s robe and biretta sits propped up before his reading-desk truly monarch of all he surveys. His crucifix and devotional books are placed conveniently on his table and he has just looked up for a moment from his task of translating the Scriptures.

His big red Cardinal’s hat, too, is placed in the foreground, so that we cannot miss it and the picture of the Madonna and Child on the wall is purposely turned out of proper perspective so that we cannot lose any of its “beauties.” St. Jerome takes good heed of time; for on the wall, at his left, an hour-glass trickles away the minutes. It is to be hoped that he feeds his birds and animals regularly! And how deliciously these little friends are painted. Every member of St. Jerome’s menagerie looks happy except the lion. There is still the “call of the wild” in his eye and he seems to be trying to control himself; but if St. Jerome does not watch his hour-glass and should happen to delay the dinner-hour, it looks as if things might go very badly for the pheasant family.

There were three traditional ways of representing St. Jerome: St.[252] Jerome as Penitent in the Desert; St. Jerome as Patron Saint and Doctor of the church; and St. Jerome as Translator and Commentator of the Scriptures. When St. Jerome is seen translating the Bible, the lion is so frequently present that he seems to be an editorial necessity; and almost invariably the Cardinal’s hat is lying somewhere near St. Jerome.

There is no authority for making St. Jerome a Cardinal; because Cardinals were not ordained until three centuries after St. Jerome’s death.

Lucas Cranach the Elder was born in Kronach in Franconia in 1472 and died in Weimar in 1553. Cranach was the first painter of importance of the Saxon School and took his name from his native town. He was a pupil of his father and has as important a reputation for his engravings on wood and copper as for his paintings. Cranach seems to have lived in Vienna, Innsbrück, Augsburg, Wittenberg, and Weimar; and it is said that he visited the Holy Land in 1493, with the Elector Frederic the Wise. In 1504 he settled permanently in Wittenberg as Court-Painter to the Elector Frederic the Wise; and he continued as Court-Painter to the three succeeding Electors. In 1509 he was sent by the Elector on an embassy to the Emperor Maximilian; and on this visit he painted the portrait of his son, the Archduke Philip (father of Charles V). Cranach was evidently of importance in Wittenberg, for he was Burgomaster in 1537 and 1540. He had an art-studio, a book-printing business, and an apothecary-shop. His house, called the “Adler,” was burned down in 1871.

[253]

Collection of Mr. John Ringling

CARDINAL ALBRECHT AS SAINT HIERONYMUS

—Lucas Cranach the Elder

Cranach was an intimate friend of Luther and Melancthon and, consequently, was greatly affected by the Reformation. He painted Luther many times. Cranach always painted with oils on panels of wood and his coloring is warm and rich. His drawing is somewhat archaic; but often very amusing. His cheerful fancy led him to introduce birds and animals into his pictures. Cranach excelled in portraiture and always gives a realistic and somewhat gay presentation of the German people of his day.

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[257]

## SPANISH PAINTING

Spanish Painting developed slowly although there were schools in all the provinces. Even in the Fourteenth Century little was known about Spanish Art in other countries. Starnina, who spent nine years in Spain (having taken refuge from his part in civil disturbances in Florence), painting pictures in the Escurial for John of Castile, had much to tell when he returned to Florence in 1387 and introduced Spanish costumes into the frescoes he made in the Carmine.

Other Italian painters followed Starnina and Italian ideas dominated Spanish Art until the Emperor Charles V became King of Spain. Charles, although heir of Maximilian and of the Holy Roman Empire, was also a direct descendant of the Dukes of Burgundy, the great-grandson of Charles the Bold. Charles V was born in Ghent and spent his first sixteen years in the Netherlands, brought up by his aunt, Margaret of Austria. Charles’s devotion to his birthplace is well-known; and his pun that he could put the whole of Paris into his Gant (glove), shows how far superior he considered Ghent to Paris. Charles took with him to Spain a vast horde of artists and artisans from the Low Countries; and he also imported the punctilious and traditional etiquette of the old Burgundian Court, which, absorbed into Spain, eventually became known as “Spanish etiquette.”

Spanish artists were profoundly affected with Flemish technique and realism. The leading early Spanish painters are Bartolomé Vermejo, active in the late Fifteenth Century, a native of Cordova in Andalusia, who combined Flemish and Arabian ideas with native traditions; Pedro Berruguete (active 1483–1504); Luis de Vargas (1502–1568); and Luis de Morales (1509?–1586).

Then again an important foreigner arrived—Antonio Moro (or Mor), who, after serving Cardinal Granvella, was sent by Mary of Hungary to Madrid, where he became Court-Painter to the House of Hapsburg.[258] Thenceforward Moro was constantly employed by Philip II to paint portraits in various Courts, although his headquarters seem to have been in Utrecht.

Moro trained the Spaniard, Alonso Sanchez Coello (1515?–1590), who, like himself, was rather stiff and hard, but able to paint a satisfactory portrait.

Then in 1575 another foreign painter arrived. This time it was a Greek, Domenico Theotocopoulos (1545?–1614), a native of Crete and said to have studied under Titian in Venice. “El Greco,” however, caught none of the glowing colors of Venice on his palette. Austere and gloomy, he settled in austere and gloomy Toledo, where he lived all the rest of his life painting religious pictures and portraits from a strange and morbid point of view.

Francisco de Ribalta (1551?–1628), revolting against Classic taste, founded his style on Caravaggio and painted darkly in the “tenebroso” manner. His pupil, Jusefe Ribera (1589–1652), called “Lo Spagnoletto,” born near Valencia, settled in Naples, where he filled many orders for Philip IV.

Francisco Pacheco (1571–1654), and Francisco de Herrera the Elder (1576–1656) are chiefly notable because they were the masters of Velasquez. Herrera originated the “bodegones” (shop-pictures), which are scenes of popular life.

Francisco Zurbaran (1598–1662), of the School of Seville, was called “the Spanish Caravaggio.” Through the influence of his friend, Velasquez, he entered the service of the King. It is said that Philip IV called him “Pintor del Rey y Rey de los Pintores” (Painter of the King and King of the Painters). Zurbaran painted the great altar-piece in the Cathedral of Seville.

Don Diego de Silva y Velasquez (1599–1660), a native of Seville, became painter to Philip IV in 1623 and continued in his service all his life. His works range from such groups as Las Meninas and Las Hilanderas to portraits of kings, queens, princes, princesses, ladies, gentlemen, dwarfs, and idiots.

Bartolomé Estéban Murillo (1617–1682), a native of Seville, came of the poor, laboring class and developed into a beloved painter,[259] particularly famous for his Holy Families and Immaculate Conceptions.

After Velasquez and Murillo there was no important painter until the original, versatile, and prolific Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828), a native of Aragon, who rose from a laborer in the fields to Court-Painter. Goya had a profound influence on modern art, greatly affecting, for instance, Manet and John Singer Sargent.

#### CARDINAL QUIROGA.

El Greco | Collection of the late
(1545?–1614). | Mr. Henry Clay Frick.

This picture, oil on canvas (37½ × 43¼ inches), was discovered, coated with the dust and dirt of ages, in a dark corner of the sacristy of the Cathedral of Valladolid, where it had evidently been hidden for centuries. A Parisian dealer, having heard of it, purchased it, and from him it passed through several hands until it reached its present home. The subject represents a Cardinal seated before a table on which a volume is lying and the Cardinal’s hands are conspicuously posed upon opposite pages. The right thumb pointed downwards emphatically upon a certain verse might possibly point to a special text that the Cardinal was associated with as betokening a famous sermon delivered by him, or, perhaps, an important controversy with which his name was associated. The figure, face, and hands are very elongated, as in all of El Greco’s performances; but the general effect is more reposeful than usual with this painter. Perhaps El Greco pulled the Cardinal out on his bed of Procrustes as far as he dared, but the Cardinal was long and thin and attenuated anyway, so that he was a model, as it were, ready made. It is one of El Greco’s best works. The silvery hair and mist of beard are marvellously painted, as are also the piercing eyes, keen and searching, yet betraying the philosopher and man of much reading. The face is intensely intellectual, but hard and cruel. No one would care to attempt to break a lance with this gentleman in any kind of an argument. With all his high-bred atmosphere, as both gentleman[260] and student, Quiroga expresses a narrow bigotry and remorseless cruelty.

The picture is also known as St. Jerome; and there are five replicas of it, one of them being in the National Gallery, London.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry Clay Frick

CARDINAL QUIROGA

—El Greco

“El Greco” is the name by which Domenico Theotocopoulos became known to his contemporaries. He was born in Crete, and in 1570, when he was about twenty-five or thirty, he went to Venice, and, it is said, studied under Titian. About 1575 he settled in Toledo, where he lived for thirty-four years until his death in 1614, and where “La casa del Greco” is still shown to tourists. El Greco painted a number of pictures, chiefly religious, notwithstanding the fact that “the individuality and strangeness of his work always more or less disconcerted his patrons.” El Greco also painted portraits and seems to have elongated every sitter to conform to his own ideas. Everything that he painted proclaims his own fervor and love of motion. El Greco also designed the dome for the then unfinished tower of the west front of the Toledo Cathedral, which presents a very strange contrast with its companion, the ornate Gothic tower.

Hugh Stokes says:

“El Greco stands apart, both in his portraiture and his large subject compositions. A Greek by family, Theotocopoulos does not fail to remind us of the archaic Byzantines. At first his limited palette, his crudity, his angularity excite repulsion. All his figures are muscularly distended as if they had recently passed the ordeal of the rack. Gradually these very defects attract. There is a movement and passion in his pictures which can be found in very few purely Spanish works. These agitated patriarchs and apostles, with draperies caught by every wind of heaven, are almost demoniac. Nature herself assists, for each horizon in the background frowns with a gathering maelstrom of black thunderclouds.”

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#### THE VIRGIN APPEARING TO ST. DOMINIC.

El Greco | Collection of
(1545?–1614). | Mr. J. Horace Harding.

The Virgin, in the traditional red robe and blue mantle, has floated on a cloud into the church where St. Dominic has been praying. The vision, as told here by El Greco, seems as real to us as it does to the astonished monk. Dominic de Guzman, who founded the Dominican Order of Preaching Friars in 1215, was born in Calaroga, Old Castile, in 1170. St. Dominic went on a mission to the Albigenses in Languedoc. and the Dominican Order grew out of the volunteers who joined him there. The rest of his life was spent in Toulouse and Rome. He died in 1221 and was canonized in 1234 by Gregory IX. The Dominican Order was known in England as the Black Friars (from their black habit) and in France as Jacobins, because their chief house in Paris was in the rue St. Jacques.

Collection of Mr. J. Horace Harding

THE VIRGIN APPEARING TO ST. DOMINIC

—El Greco

This picture, oils on canvas (24 × 39¼ inches) came from the Collection of Henri Rouats of Paris and shows El Greco’s ecstasy with less exaggeration and eccentricity than is customary with him. Elie Faure has well defined the characteristics of El Greco: “Remorse at having been born,” he says “pursues the painter until the end, but when he expresses it in his art, the magnificence which it takes on atones for his terrors. At the end of his life he painted like one in an hallucination, in a kind of ecstatic nightmare, where preoccupation with expressing the spirit engrossed him. Deformation appears in his pictures more and more, lengthening the bodies, attenuating the fingers, and hollowing the faces. His blues, his wine-like reds, and his greens seem lit by some livid reflection sent to him from the near-by tomb and from Hell, caught sight of from eternal bliss. If there is a place where shadows wander, if in some sinister valley there are corpses that stand upright and living spectres that have not yet lost their form, Domenico Theotocopoulos alone after Dante has found it. One would say that he is exploring a dead planet, that he is descending into extinct volcanoes, where ashes accumulate and a pale half moon sheds her light.”

[264]

#### MARIANNE OF AUSTRIA.

Velasquez | Collection of
(1599–1660). | Mr. Philip Lehman.

This picture (14½ × 19 inches) was for many years a valued possession of the Zenon Gallery, Cadiz, and represents the little girl, daughter of Ferdinand II, who became the wife of Philip IV in 1649 and who had first been betrothed to Philip’s son, Don Balthazar Carlos. The latter died in 1646. Three years later Philip IV sent for the little Grand Duchess to be his second wife. The reason for this marriage was a dynastic one, for it united the Spanish branch of the House of Hapsburg with the German branch of the House of Hapsburg, Marianne being a descendant of Ferdinand, brother of Charles V, and, therefore, of exactly the same blood as Philip IV.

Collection of Mr. Philip Lehman

MARIANNE OF AUSTRIA

—Velasquez

Velasquez was one of those painters favored by the gods. Like Rubens, he early attracted Royal patronage and held it all his life. There were no struggles of genius for recognition: all he had to do was to complete and develop his gifts and talents. In 1623 he was introduced to Philip IV by Olivares and Philip took him into his service. Rubens, visiting Madrid in 1628, begged Velasquez to go to Italy. Velasquez did so and spent a year in Rome, visited Naples, where he met his countryman, Ribera. On his return to Madrid, he was given a painting-room in the Royal Palace. Velasquez visited Italy several times in the future; and on one visit to Rome painted the famous portrait of Pope Innocent X, now in the Doria Gallery (with a replica in The Hermitage). Back again in Madrid, Velasquez was decorated with the Cross of St. Iago by Philip IV, who made him Aposentador Major (grand marshal of the palace). To the last period belong his most important portraits, the series of court freaks, and the famous Las Hilanderas and Las Meninas.

Velasquez died in Madrid in 1660.

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#### PHILIP IV OF SPAIN.

Velasquez | Collection of the late
(1599–1660). | Mr. Henry Clay Frick.

This portrait known as the “Parma Velasquez,” because it belonged to the Grand Duke of Parma, is painted in oils on canvas (38¾ × 52½ inches). It was painted in 1644 in Cataluna, where Philip had gone to try to raise the siege of Lerida invested by the French. Velasquez went with the King and painted the picture in a dilapidated hovel, which was fitted up for the purpose of a studio. A contemporary record says: “The King dressed as a soldier posed to Velasquez in fitted hose edged with silver embroidery, sleeves of same, plain buck jerkin, red sash edged with silver, cape of red fustian, falling collar, and black sombrero with crimson plumes.”

The King was kept amused by his dwarf, El Primo, while the portrait was being painted. The costume is the one that Philip usually appeared in before his army as commander-in-chief.

“From the figure itself,” says Carl Justi, “it is evident that it was taken far from the atmosphere of the Alcazar. It is freer than those tall figures in black, which are perpetually receiving despatches, and which are the incarnation of unrelenting monotony, of the weariness of etiquette. To this effect the color contributes much, for the picture is all light and brightness. The legs seem to stand in profile, but the body and head face to the right; the white bâton in the right hand is planted against the hip; the elbow of the left which holds the hat, rests on the hilt of the sword, and, curiously enough, both arms are disposed in a somewhat parallel position. The lines of the King’s features, now in his thirty-ninth year, are firmer, the color fresher than hitherto. The otherwise inseparable golilla is here replaced by a broad lace collar falling on the shoulders; the hands are white in unison with the white sleeves, the most luminous parts of the whole picture—well nurtured, royal hands, ringless, but by no means ‘washed out,’ as has been supposed by those unacquainted with the master’s habit of dispensing with shade to indicate the fingers.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry Clay Frick

PHILIP IV OF SPAIN

—Velasquez

“Philip wears a rich, light red doublet with hanging sleeves, the[268] narrow opening showing the leather jerkin underneath. Of like color and also covered with silver embroidery are the bandolier and hose. The only patch of gold is the Golden Fleece, all else—collar, sleeves of jerkin (pearl tone), lace cuffs, lace ruffle of boots, silver sheath—being white. This white on the red produces the well-known effects of a lighter or ‘camellian red.’ The hat alone is black, which is not in keeping with the costume, and may probably be due to license on the part of the artist, who here wished to avoid white on white, and who needed a dark part in softening contrast to the silvery red of the whole. At the same time the red of the bandolier and plume on the red of the doublet shows the painter’s indifference to such matters. To all this must be added the full flood of daylight which even projects an oblique shadow from the mustachios on to the cheek. The stupendous relief is effected by the empty, dark-grey surface of the ground and by the spare brown shadows, which help to bring out the collar, arm, and hat.”

When the portrait was finished “it was hung in the church under a canopy embroidered in gold where much people congregated to see it.” The record adds that “copies thereof are already being made.” The one in the Dulwich Gallery, England, is one of these.

The picture was sent by Ferdinand VI, King of Spain, to his step-brother, the Grand Duke of Parma; and it remained in the Parma Palace until recent times, when it was sold by Prince Elias.

Philip IV was born in 1605, died in 1665, and ascended the throne when he was only sixteen. He was a solemn person, with coarse tastes and was fond of horse-play. He, however, gave his patronage to Velasquez, Calderon, and Lope de Vega, which is much to his credit.

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#### GENERAL NICOLAS GUYE.

Goya | Collection of
(1746–1828). | Mr. J. Horace Harding.

The Spanish General represented in oils on canvas (33⅜ × 41¾ inches) wears a brilliantly colored uniform resplendent with gold lace and decorated with medals. His knee-breeches are white, and he holds his chapeau bras in his hand. The picture was given to Vincent Guye, the General’s brother, in 1810.

Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes was born in Fuendetodos in Aragon, March 30, 1746. His parents were humble cottagers and he worked in the fields until he was eighteen. Through the interest of a monk he was sent to Zaragoza to the studio of José Martinez. Goya distinguished himself both in the studio and in quarrels, which sometimes resulted in bloodshed. After a fight Goya fled to Madrid, where he copied Velasquez and became embroiled in more disturbances. He escaped to Italy; and in 1772 took the second prize for painting at the Academy in Parma. Back in Zaragoza in 1771, he painted a fresco in the Cathedral. Revisiting Italy he formed a friendship with Jacques Louis David. In 1774 he returned to Spain, married the sister of a painter, and began to paint furiously. In 1789 Goya became painter of the Chamber—“pinter de camera”—to Charles IV, with a large salary. During the occupation of Spain by the French and the expulsion of the latter by Wellington, Goya lived quietly without taking any part in the exciting events; but he had been observing. On the return of Ferdinand VII, he published his series of Desastres de la Guerra, in which the horrors and bestialities of war are set forth in so frank a manner and with such commanding technique that they make a magnificent appeal for the abolition of war.

Collection of Mr. J. Horace Harding

GENERAL NICOLAS GUYE

—Goya

Goya had previously published his series of prints, Los Caprichos, a most amazing presentation of humanity in brutal and revolting caricatures, the origin and significance of which are neither fully known nor understood; but, mingled with the demonology and repulsiveness, there are occasional gleams of beauty. Equally celebrated are his plates, the Tauromachia, dealing with the bull-ring.

[272]

Goya had an uncanny facility for every medium,—etching, lithographs, drawings, and aquatints, as well as oil-paintings. Goya spent the year 1825 in Bordeaux and returned to Madrid, where he died in 1828.

“My only masters have been Nature, Velasquez, and Rembrandt,” Goya said. Being so independent Goya left no pupils and founded no school. He was always hostile to the academic: “Always lines and never body,” he exclaimed when criticising his contemporaries, “but where do we find these lines in Nature? I can only see masses in light and masses in shadow, planes which advance or planes which recede, reliefs or backgrounds. My eye never catches outlines or details. I do not count the hairs on the head of the man who passes me in the street. The buttons on his coat are not the chief object to catch my glance. My brush ought not to have better eyesight than its master!”

#### PEPITO COSTA Y BONELLA.

Goya | Collection of
(1746–1828). | Mrs. William Hayward.

This delightful picture, oils on canvas (33¼ × 41⅝ inches), is brilliant with many colors delightfully harmonized and contrasted. The little boy, with fair hair and dark complexion, wears a green velvet jacket with gilt braid, lace collar, white trousers, rose-colored stockings, light-yellow slippers, and red and white plumes in his dark hat. The drum is blue.

Collection of Mrs. William Hayward

PEPITO COSTA Y BONELLA

—Goya

The picture comes from the Collection of the Countess Uda de Gandomar of Madrid.

[273]

[275]

## FRENCH, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

We have now come to the age of elegance in painting. In the preceding sections of this book we have passed through many periods and many schools and have brought forward superb examples of great masters of several countries, but we now come to a time when the Art of Painting may be said to have reached perfection. The French Painters of the Eighteenth Century show us something entirely new in manner and in subject. They have grace, elegance, delicacy, style, beauty, brilliancy, clarity, and translucence of color. What can, for instance, equal the lightness of Watteau and Fragonard, or the dewy freshness of Greuze?

There are such things as the floating silk of the thistle’s parachute; such things as the feathery dust on the wings of “painted butterflies”; such things as the velvet pile on the petals of flowers; such things as the purple bloom on the plum and the grape; such things as the down on the breast of the cygnet; such things as the roseate gleam of the Oriental pearl; such things as the prismatic twinkle of the morning dew; and such things as the liquid silver of the moon’s bright ray.

All these most precious and evanescent beauties Watteau, Lancret, Pater, Fragonard, Drouais, Chardin, and other painters of the Eighteenth Century caught upon their palettes.

It was the genius Antoine Watteau (1684–1721) who opened the magic casements into this new world of fairy-like color and fairy-like lightness.

In the reaction from the heavy solemnity and gloom of the last years of Louis XIV, when the Sun-King was setting under the dark clouds of the bigoted and severe Madame de Maintenon’s influence, French taste swung to the other extreme of gaiety, fancy, gallantry, and caprice. Law’s Mississippi Bubble, while it lasted, enabled a great many persons to become suddenly rich; and, as is always the[276] case with a new state of society, new styles of fashion came to meet its requirements. Moreover, the tastes of the Regent—the Duc d’Orléans—and the young King Louis XV were gay and playful; and, consequently, they were both glad to see all the traditions of Louis XIV swept away. The Art nouveau of the period was most graceful and charming in its early expression. The playful curves and fantastic motifs from the Far East—pagodas, mandarins, umbrellas, monkeys, little bells, dripping water, and strange, wreathing vines, were all transmuted by the great decorative artists and designers into that delicious and delightful French mélange known as Chinoiserie, which is, perhaps, more French than Chinese. The riotous curves, most of which were derived from the volutes of the shell, the shell itself, and the dripping water (or hanging icicles), were used so prolifically and so universally that their name rocaille (rock and shell) or rococo, is almost synonymous with that of the “style Louis Quinze,” although it does not include all the motifs nor all the spirit of the age.

Watteau was followed in his fascinating portrayal of pastorales galantes, fêtes champêtres, and all the light pleasures of society and its beautifully dressed men and women, by Nicolas Lancret (1690–1743) and Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater (1695–1736); and to this group belongs Jean Baptiste Huet (1745–1811), who in his first years followed Watteau closely; and as a decorative designer, he also expressed the taste of the Directoire and Empire period through which he lived.

Of the portrait painters, Jean Marc Nattier (1685–1766) stands first as Court-Painter and portrayer of lovely ladies in flowing draperies, rose-colored or blue scarfs, and wreaths and garlands of flowers, appearing as Hebe, Diana, Flora and other goddesses of Grecian mythology. Close to him comes Maurice Quentin de la Tour (1704–1788), who early abandoned oil-painting for pastels (his masterpiece, the portrait of Madame de Pompadour is now in the Louvre), was called a magician by Diderot and his work is described by de Goncourt as “a magic mirror, in which is seen all the talent, all the glory, all the wit, and all the grace of the reign of Louis XV.”

Carle Van Loo (1705–1765) is another portrait-painter of delicate and distinguished taste and performance. François Hubert Drouais[277] (1727–1775) also expresses all the beauty, charm, and grace of the day in his presentations of the fashionable world.

François Boucher (1703–1770), the friend and successor of Carle Van Loo as first painter to the King, is so idyllic and fanciful that he has been characterized as the “Anacreon of Painting.”

Alexandre François Desportes (1661–1743), painter of hunting-scenes and animals, and Jean Baptiste Oudry (1686–1755), painter of hunting-scenes, animals, flowers, fruit, and still-life, blazed the trail for Jean Baptiste Siméon Chardin (1699–1779), one of the greatest colorists in the entire history of painting. Jean Baptiste Greuze (1725–1805), full of grace, charm, and freshness, painter par excellence of pretty girls, and Jean Honoré Fragonard (1732–1806), pupil of Chardin and Boucher, famous for his delicate color and lightness of touch, lived into the new régime and their work became unappreciated. Hubert Robert (1733–1808), painter of delicate and highly decorative garden-scenes and classical ruins, and Madame Labille-Guiard (1749–1803) also lived into the Directoire and Napoleonic period when they were forced to leave their quarters in the Louvre formerly accorded to them by Royal permission. Madame Labille-Guiard was in her day ranked with Madame Vigée LeBrun (1755–1842), wife of the grand-nephew of the great painter, Charles LeBrun, who won distinction for her portraits, her brilliant salon, and her charming personality.

#### JUPITER AND CALISTO.

Nicolas Poussin | Collection of
(1594–1665). | Mr. Carroll Tyson.

This famous picture was first owned by the great painter Charles LeBrun. It subsequently belonged to the Collections of Baron Holback, 1789; Baron Clary, 1868; and Baron de Tournelle in Paris. Painted about 1635, this large canvas (53½ × 70½ inches), is in a fine state of preservation, the colors, in consequence, appearing richer than is usual in Poussin’s works. The greens, browns, and pinks are warm; the flesh tints are glowing; and the draperies and the sky are a deep lapis-lazuli blue.

[278]

The puzzle is to find Jupiter! In Smith’s Catalogue raisonné we read:

“The god under the form of Diana is represented sitting on a shady bank embracing the beautiful nymph, who sits by his side with a spear in her hand; seven Cupids are sporting around them, one of which, while flying, is discharging an arrow from his bow; a second is playing with the hounds of the supposed huntress; a third holds up the blazing torch of love; and two others, buoyant among the trees, are casting flowers on the heads of the lovers.

“In his very beautiful pictures illustrative of ancient mythology Poussin has treated the various subjects in a style that proves he perfectly understood the mystery of the allegories therein contained and employed with the happiest effect the numerous symbolical figures to denote qualities, places, and things. His style, although unquestionably of French origin, owes all its beauty to his subsequent study of a few of the great Italian Masters, and of ancient sculpture. To such an extent was he carried in his enthusiastic admiration of the latter, that most of the celebrated statues and monuments, both of Greek and Roman origin, may be recognized in his pictures. This fondness for the chaste beauty of the antique may have led him in some instances so far as to give to his figures a rigidity which ill accords with the elasticity of nature. This defect (if it be one), is amply compensated by the grace and dignity of attitude and the chaste correctness of drawing which pervades his works. Execution, that medium by which the conceptions of a painter are embodied, and by which the connoisseur is frequently enabled to judge of the originality of a picture, is distinguished in the Artist (in his best period) by breadth and precision of hand, and a firm and decided outline; every touch of the pencil appears the result of consideration and profound knowledge, and in this respect it is the very reverse of that rapidity and dexterous freedom of hand observable in the works of Rubens, Paul Veronese, and Giordano.”

Collection of Mr. Carroll Tyson

JUPITER AND CALISTO

—Nicolas Poussin

Poussin spent almost his entire life in Rome. Born at Villiers near Les Andelys in Normandy in 1594, he went to Paris at the age of eighteen to study art, having had some training under Quentin Varin[280] at Les Andelys. In Paris he studied under Ferdinand Elle, a Flemish portrait-painter, and L’Allemand, a native of Lorraine. In 1620 he started for Rome, but only got as far as Florence. Compelled to return to Paris he now formed a friendship with Philippe de Champaigne (also a pupil of L’Allemand) and worked with him on the decorations of the Luxembourg under Duchesne. Four years later Poussin arrived in Rome, his long desired goal, and plunged enthusiastically into the study of ancient art, also working in the studio of Domenichino. For a long time Poussin had to struggle with poverty, illness, and Italian hatred,—for the Italians and French were enemies at this time. Marriage with the daughter of a wealthy compatriot changed matters and Poussin bought with his bride’s dowry a handsome house on the Pincian Hill. Cardinal Barberini’s patronage now brought Poussin fame, for the Cardinal commissioned two paintings, The Death of Germanicus and The Capture of Jerusalem—besides other important orders. Poussin’s reputation soared rapidly and in 1640 Louis XIII called him to Paris, appointed him first painter-in-ordinary, and gave him a residence in the garden of the Tuileries for life. For two years Poussin worked industriously, producing many paintings, cartoons for tapestries, and illustrations for books; but he longed for his beloved Rome and in 1642 returned to that city, where he spent the remainder of his life in the tranquil pursuit of his art. Poussin painted for twenty-three more years and died in Rome in 1665. His works are numerous; and, with the exception of a few portraits, are chiefly devoted to mythological, classical, historical, and Biblical subjects. Titian was his idol. However, despite his Italian inspiration and taste, Poussin is regarded as the head of the French School. His devotion to classical subjects and his deep study of the antique in all its expressions make Poussin one of the most scholarly of painters.

Sir Joshua Reynolds says: “In contemplating his classical pictures the mind is thrown back into antiquity or remote ages; and it would be no difficult matter for the spectator to imagine that such pictures were coeval, or nearly so, in their production with the mythological metamorphosis and Bacchanalian festivals that are set before him. His shepherds, fauns, nymphs, satyrs, and Bacchanals appear[281] a primitive progeny, the native inhabitants of the mountains and woodlands of the genial climate of Greece and of that Golden Age when Hellas and Asia Minor may be supposed to have been overspread with aboriginal forests and life was careless resignation to present enjoyment.”

From Nicolas Poussin and Claude Lorrain (1600–1682), landscape-painter of idealized Classic scenes, poetic in spirit and suffused with dreamful, golden light, the Eighteenth Century French painters may be said to have found their fountain-head of inspiration.

#### LA DANSE.

Antoine Watteau. | Collection of
(1684–1721). | Mr. Charles A. Wimpfheimer.

With the exception of the superb Embarquement pour l’Ile de Cythère, we do not think of individual paintings of Watteau. We consider his work as a whole and we have a composite picture in our minds of assemblées galantes under the trees in beautiful parks and gardens. Although he derived his themes from his master, Gillot, who was painting all the fashionable follies and fancies of the time, Watteau surpassed him so entirely in his approach to these subjects, as well as in his technique, that we are wont to look upon Watteau as the originator of fêtes champêtres, pastorales galantes, concerts champêtres, monkeys in all kinds of attitudes and costumes satirizing the modes and manners of the day, ladies and gentlemen playing Blind Man’s Buff (Colin Maillard) under the trees, ladies swinging or flirting with their fans, love-scenes beside statues in leafy dells, members of the Italian Comedy—Pierrot, Arlequin, Scaramouche, Mezetin, Columbine, and Scalpin—and charming people making music or dancing under the trees.

This characteristic picture which came from the S. R. Bertron Collection to its present owner, is a charming illustration of Watteau’s style. Here we have dancing and music and merry conversation. The light is concentrated on the chief figure—the dancer—clad in that white satin that Watteau painted so marvellously. But why[282] single out any special object for that facile and versatile brush? Did not an eminent critic of the Nineteenth Century proclaim that Watteau was “the most brilliant and vivid painter the world has ever seen”?

Watteau created an Arcadia of his own—a Watteau world; and it is not without reason that another critic called him “the Shakespeare and the Aristophanes of Art.”

The world has long recognized that Watteau was a poet. Élie Faure asks why it is that the ensemble always produces the sensation so near to sadness, and then he gives the reason:

“The spirit of the poet is present. Watteau had brought back from his Flemish country and from a visit he had made to England the love of moist landscape, where the colors in the multiplied prism of the tiny suspended drops take on their real depth and splendor. Music and trees, the whole of Watteau is in them. The sound does not interrupt the silence, but rather increases it. Barely, if at all, a whispered echo reaches us from it. We do indeed see the fingers wandering from the strings: the laughter and the phrases exchanged are to be guessed from bodies bending forward or turning backward and from fans that tap on hands. The actors in the charming dramas are at a distance from their painter and are dispersed in the depths of the open spaces. Watteau fears to come near them, to penetrate their mystery; for to see them too close would destroy the aërial veil that trembles between them and himself. He caresses them only with his delicate tones that hover here and there as would some bee from the north flying about in the damp forests or under the lights of the fête, among the powdered gold of the hair, the rose of the costumes, the bluish, milky haze, the flower-sprinkled moss, the grass on which rest skirts and mantles of silk and satin, and the nocturnal phosphorescence given to jewels and velvets by the gleam of moonlight and the flare of waving torches. It is the irised air which makes the marble statues seem to quiver, which gives agitation to the sprightly and piquant faces, movement to the fingers plucking guitars, and to delicate fine legs in stockings of transparent silk. Watteau never comes near the scene: the vision is as distant as an old dream. Observe[284][283] it in detail. The structure of the figures—solid, moving, and substantial—makes them appear as if on the plane of man. Watteau’s little personages are as large as his conception of them: he paints with the breadth, the fire, and the freedom of Veronese, of Rubens, of Velasquez, and of Rembrandt.”

Collection of Mr. Charles A. Wimpfheimer

LA DANSE

—Antoine Watteau

Antoine Watteau, born at Valenciennes, Oct. 10, 1684, was turned adrift by his father, a tile-maker, and he went to Paris, where he gradually became a fine draughtsman. He entered the studio of Claude Gillot (1673–1722), well known for his mythological pictures, his Chinoiserie, his fêtes galantes, his singerie, and his buffoonery of the Italian Comedy. Watteau soon surpassed his teacher and left him to study for a short time with Claude Audran (1658–1734). In 1717 Watteau became a member of the Academy; in 1719 he visited England; and in 1721 he died at Nogent, near Paris.

The de Goncourts have summed up his qualities so well that no excuse is needed for placing their analysis here:

“It is doubtless owing to the early decorative work executed by Watteau that he acquired a taste for the theatre of which in after days his cunning brush drew so many pleasing representations, so many curious pictures and that he so often depicted the Italian and French Comedians, those friends and intimates of his brush, whose motley family he painted in that beautiful and striking picture which is a companion to Comédiens Français. He painted their companion picture when Madame de Maintenon drove them out of France in 1697; he painted their amusements, their nocturnal amours and serenades, their holidays, their open-air sports. Mezetin and Columbine appear on a hundred panels. But there would be little reason to thank the chance that led Watteau at the outset of his career to work under an obscure decorator if he had only copied the silken folds of their costumes and had not conceived the idea of using these Trans-alpine types as the poetic habitants of his scènes galantes and scènes champêtres. In fact, by the introduction of these Merry Andrews, these gracious mummers, these elegant incarnations of dainty laughter and fine comedy, these men and women whose materiality is so vague and their reality so veiled beneath symbol and myth, the compositions[285] of the painter no longer seem like pictures of a real world. The greensward of his scènes galantes seems peopled with mythical beings to whom Watteau’s imagination and lightness of touch have left nothing of the actors who served as his models; and we have the illusion of looking into a verdant country inhabited by creations of whim and fancy.”

#### MADAME BONIER DE LA MOSSON.

Jean Marc Nattier | Collection of
(1685–1766). | Mr. Edward J. Berwind.

Nolhac calls the portrait of Madame Bonier de la Mosson “une des plus belles de ses Dianes ou de ses Nymphes chasseresses.” The picture (51 × 38 inches) was exhibited in the Salon of 1742. From the Collections of Debatz, Reims, and Tamvaco, Cairo, it passed into that of Mr. Berwind. This handsome lady, radiant in her leopard skin and flowers, was the wife of M. Bonier de la Mosson, who was also painted by Nattier four years later (1746), in his “cabinet of curiosities,” for M. Bonier de la Mosson was one of those amateur scientists of the age. In his rich hôtel in the rue Saint Dominique in Paris, he had a laboratory and an “apothicairerie,”—his pots, bottles, mortars and pestles and crucibles surrounded by furniture of the most superb description. The portrait of M. Bonier de la Mosson was in great contrast to that of his beautiful wife. The portrait of the gentleman is a fine work, but the portrait of the lady shows Nattier in his most characteristic aspect. Here is the real Nattier, for Nattier specialized in what was called in his day the “historic portrait,”—that is to say the sitter was represented as a mythological, or historical, personage with all the attractive symbolical and picturesque accessories. Nattier’s vogue during his lifetime was very great and all the aristocratic and fashionable ladies wanted, above all things, to have themselves perpetuated as Dianas, Floras, Hebes, and Auroras. Consequently, many old families in France cherish a fine allegorical[286] portrait of a handsome ancestress caught as it were on Mount Olympus with the gods and goddesses.

“Nattier l’élève des Graces,
Et le peintre de la beauté”

is a tribute in some verses in 1727.

“It may seem fantastic,” Sir Walter Armstrong writes, “to bracket Van Eyck with a painter like Nattier, but a little consideration will show that in a sense they belonged to the same faction, that is to say that if Van Eyck had lived in Paris in 1760, he would have conceived a portrait much in the same way as Nattier, and so mutatis mutandis with the Frenchman. The conscious desire of both was to reproduce their sitter, choosing a moment when he or she was thinking of nothing in particular, and surrounding him with his familiar properties carefully marshalled into a design.”

Jean Marc Nattier came of a family of artists. His father, Marc Nattier, was an Academician, his mother, Marie Courtois, was a miniature-painter of reputation, and his brother, J. B. Nattier, was also a painter. Jean Marc Nattier was born in Paris, March 17, 1685, and was trained at a very early age by his father. Admitted to the classes at the Académie, he won a prize in drawing and at the age of fifteen was given a stipend. In 1715 Nattier went to Holland, where Peter the Great was staying, and painted the Czar, the Empress Catherine II, and several members of the Russian Court; but he declined all inducements to follow the Czar to Russia and returned to Paris.

In 1718 Nattier was received at the Académie and, thenceforth, devoted himself to portraiture. In 1724 he married Mademoiselle de la Roche, daughter of an old mousquetaire of the King; and it was not long before he became official painter of the court and, in consequence, the most fashionable portrait-painter in France.

Nattier was made assistant professor of the Académie in 1745 and full professor in 1752. Every year brought him more fame and more honors until his death in Paris in 1766.

Nattier depicts the delicate, charming, and aristocratic beauty of[288] the early Louis XV period and has the gift of expressing also grace and alluring qualities. Louis XV had Nattier make replicas of many of the court portraits most pleasing to him, which he sent to European Courts; and this explains how it is that so many splendid Nattiers are hanging to-day in European galleries.

Collection of Mr. Edward J. Berwind

MADAME BONIER DE LA MOSSON

—Jean Marc Nattier

Nattier has a unique place as the painter of beautiful women, yet, although he painted individuals, his work, taken as a whole, presents the French Society woman of the Eighteenth Century with her peculiar charm, elegance, and finesse, appearing in his portraits as she really was,—experienced, flexible, high-bred, gay, witty, and accomplished, graceful in manner and in speech, perfect in the arts of the toilet and in dress, conscious of her charm, and tactful, polished, and fascinating in society.

#### LA MARQUISE DE BAGLION AS FLORA.

Jean Marc Nattier | Collection of
(1685–1766). | Mr. A. W. Erickson.

This masterpiece is also known as the “Chaponay Nattier,” from having been long in the Collection of the Marquis de Chaponay in Paris. Previously the picture graced the Collection of la Comtesse Armand née Gontoud-Biron and subsequently that of M. Nicolas Ambatielos in London. Many critics regard La Marquise de Baglion as the finest French portrait of the Eighteenth Century. Its first appearance in public was at the Salon of 1746 and it was shown in the Paris Exhibition of the One Hundred Masterpieces in 1892 (No. 28) and in the Paris Exhibition of the One Hundred Portraits of Women of the French and English Schools in 1909 (No. 85).

Collection of Mr. A. W. Erickson

LA MARQUISE DE BAGLION

—Jean Marc Nattier

The picture (53⅛ × 41¼ inches) is signed and dated 1746, hence it was shown as soon as it was finished. The subject of the picture, Angélique Louise Sophie d’Allouville de Louville was born Feb. 10, 1710, daughter of Charles Augustin d’Allouville, Marquis de Louville, Gentleman-in-waiting to the King of Spain, Lieutenant-General of his armies and Governor-General of Courtray. Her mother was Hyacinthe Sophie de Bechameil de Nointel. On June 10, 1733, Angélique Louise[290] Sophie was married to Pierre François Marie de Baglion, Comte de la Salle. After twenty-three years of marriage the Marquise de Baglion died in 1756. Her only daughter, Françoise Sophie Scholastique de Baglion (who was married to Denis Auguste Grimoard de Beauvoir, Marquis du Roure, Colonel of the Grenadiers of France of Saintonge, of Dauphine, and later brigadier), was lady-in-waiting to the Dauphine (Marie Antoinette), and was a great friend of Madame de Pompadour, whom she usually accompanied on her visits to Choisy.

In this exquisite picture, La Marquise de Baglion, an unusually beautiful woman, who has great intelligence in her face, as well as beauty, appears in a very décolleté dress, which shows her dazzling neck and shoulders. Her aristocratic hand, long and beautifully shaped, lightly holds a blue scarf—“Nattier blue”—filled with lovely flowers. Flowers are as nearly important as the Goddess of Flowers herself; and, consequently, Nattier has shown himself here the equal of any painter who specialized in flowers.

The picture was much talked of in its day at Versailles; in the boudoirs; at the toilet of the marquise; and at the petits soupers of the King, Louis XV. Many poets have sung its praises. One of the latest and best tributes is by Roger Milès called a Madrigal for a Portrait of the Marquise de Baglion painted by Nattier. In reading it we cannot help regretting that the beautiful Flora could not have read these sympathetic verses:

MADRIGAL

(Pour un Portrait de la Marquise de Baglion peint par Nattier)

Dès le matin, dans la rosée, au fond du parc,
La Marquise s’en fut, pour saluer l’Aurore,
Et les cerfs inquiets qui sommeillaient encore,
Pour Diane la prenant, des yeux cherchaient son arc.
Mais elle n’était pas la Déesse farouche
Et, si parfois ses yeux ont pu lancer ces traits,
Ses victimes devaient y trouver des attraits,
Tant le sourire avait de douceur sur sa bouche.
Elle allait simplement, fière de sa beauté,
Humilier les fleurs écloses pour lui plaire,
Sachant leur jalousie aimable et sans colère,
Ames où des parfums chantent la volupté.[291]
Et voici que ses mains cruelles et câlines
Ont fait leur choix parmi la fraicheur des buissons,
Pour les encourager, de leurs nids, les pinsons
Raillaient à plein gosier les branches orphelines.
Et de ses belles mains déborde son butin.
Sa cueillette fut bonne, et ses touffes fleuries.
Suffiraient à parer la mousse des prairies
Quant la Nature dit sa prière au Matin.
Sur un banc, souriante, elle s’est reposée,
Une rose retient l’épaulette qui fuit,
Et le Zephyr qui passe en balayant la nuit,
S’attarde à la splendour de sa gorge rosée.
L’étoffe la possède entre ses plis légers,
Des joyaux précieux se serrent à sa hanche,
Et, sur un chiffonné de mousseline blanche,
Ses genoux par un tissu bleu sont assiégés.
Mais un charme divin s’epanouait en elle,
Et l’on tremble, en voyant son pur rayonnement,
Que Dieu pour nous ravir à cet enchantement,
Ne fasse palpiter à son épaule ... une aile.

#### LA CAMARGO.

Nicolas Lancret | Collection of the
(1690–1743). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

This painting came into this country directly from the Collection of the Emperor of Germany, having long hung in Potsdam Palace, “Sans Souci,” near Berlin. It was originally in the Collection of the Prince de Carignan in Paris, from whom it was acquired in 1744 by the Count von Rothenburg, Prussian Ambassador, for Frederick the Great (1712–1786), to adorn his castle at Rheinsberg.

The picture is in oils on canvas (30 × 41¾ inches). We have here a typical scene of French Eighteenth Century life, laid in a beautiful park of emerald swards, lovely trees, and graceful foliage, a “terminal” figure of a Muse in the middle distance, and a fountain tossing its spray at the extreme right. Mademoiselle Camargo and her partner occupy the left centre of the picture dancing to music played by a small orchestra[292] on the left. Seated and standing around them beneath the trees are groups of interested spectators; and among them at the extreme left Lancret has painted his own portrait. He is wearing a dark mantle and a biretta, and looks directly toward the observer.

The dancer, who gives the name to the picture, is the celebrated Marie Anne de Cuppi de Camargo, born in Brussels in 1710. The Princess de Ligne became interested in her and sent her to Paris at the age of ten to be trained for a dancer. Under Madame Prevost, a dancer at the Opéra, her progress was so rapid that she made her début at the Opéra at the age of seventeen, when her extraordinary grace and her wonderful clothes caused her to be acclaimed as a star. Through the lessons of Blondy and Dupré she perfected her talents and became the most famous Parisian dancer of her time. A liaison with the Comte de Clermonte Abbé of Saint-Germain-des-Prés caused her to leave the Opéra in 1734; but she returned in 1740 and regained her former triumphs. This was the time when Lancret painted some wonderful portraits of the great danseuse, including the fine picture presented here. Mademoiselle Camargo retired permanently in 1751 and died in Paris in 1770.

Collection of the Hon. Andrew J. Mellon

LA CARMARGO

—Nicolas Lancret

Nicolas Lancret was born in Paris in 1690 and died there in 1743. He was a pupil of Pierre d’Ulin and Claude Gillot; but he adopted Watteau as his model. Indeed, his close imitations of Watteau estranged the latter. Lancret, however, won a great reputation for his beautiful sense of composition, his fine design, and his charming color. He was elected a member of the French Academy of Painting in 1719. His landscapes are always delicate and romantic, and as a painter of Fêtes galantes he almost equals Watteau and Pater.

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#### LE DUO.

Nicolas Lancret | Collection of
(1690–1743). | Mr. and Mrs. Emil J. Stehli.

At first glance we might take this painting for a Watteau, for Lancret has shown in it the same appreciation of park scenery, leafy and fresh foliage, charming figures of grace and refinement, and, even more particularly, the suggestion of music. We seem to hear the liquid, silvery, cool notes of the flute and the sweet, clear voice of the pretty young lady who is singing from a book of music while the young gallant looks over her shoulder and plays his part in the duet. The costumes are lovely; the young lady is dressed in white and the flute-player wears a brownish-red suit. The flute-player’s pose is interesting: all his weight is placed on his right foot. Note his hands: they are properly placed on the holes of his instrument, which he is holding as a musician. The French have always been superlative flute-players and it was only natural that Lancret would select a capable musician for his model. We can make a safe guess that the music we are hearing from these musicians is an air by Rameau, whose operas and ballets were enjoying great vogue when this picture was painted. The work, oils on canvas (19¾ × 16¾ inches), belonged to the Collection of Sir William Knighton, Bart., and came from that of Mr. Pitt Rivers of London to the present owner, Mr. Emil J. Stehli of New York.

Comparing Lancret with Watteau, Eugène Langevin writes:

“First the style of the master was not adopted by him in its entirety; he modified it in accordance with his own disposition; he has played some of Watteau’s melodies, but in a lower key and with a slower movement. It is conversations galantes rather than fêtes galantes that he paints. He seems to feel that he does not possess the fire, the caprice, the vivacity, the imagination, and the supreme poetic distinction that are required for Departures for the Enchanted Isle. He halts half-way. Where Watteau painted sumptuous and impassioned eclogues, Lancret portrays rural amusements, richly adorned and at[296] the same time frolicsome as he had seen them on the boards. Watteau revels in the most magical of fictions: he is the Shakespeare, the Aristophanes of Art.

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Emil J. Stehli

LE DUO

—Nicolas Lancret

“Like Watteau, Lancret broke with the academic traditions of the day, which were all for reddish or brown tints: he acknowledged a wholesome horror of burnt colors. And if he lacks that distinction which his master owed to his constant practice of Flemish and Venetian Art and to his own natural gifts, if he cannot produce those glowing and rutilant tonalities full of golden sheen, those rich colors, and those subtle harmonies of infinitely delicate beauty, he, at least, possessed a palette both rich and refined.”

#### UNE FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE.

Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater | Collection of
(1695–1736). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

This brilliant picture, painted in 1733, the height of the Regency period, came from the Collection of Lady Carnarvon, having been bequeathed to her by Alfred Charles de Rothschild of Seymour Place, London.

The scene is laid in a romantic landscape with the ruins of an old château and other ancient buildings surrounded by beautiful, feathery trees. Upon the green sward groups of men, women, and children have gathered to enjoy themselves in various ways. The merry assemblage, dressed in brilliant costumes of delightful colors, charmingly harmonized and contrasted, are dancing, feasting, making love, and watching actors and mountebanks perform. Even two little dogs in the foreground have partaken of the general gaiety. The movement, brio and general joie de vivre make this a veritable panorama of the Eighteenth Century. The picture is also noteworthy for being the largest ever painted by Pater.

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

UNE FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE

—J. B. J. Pater

Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater was born at Valenciennes in 1695, the son of a wood-carver who appreciated his son’s talent, taught him what he could, and then took him to Paris, where he became a pupil of[298] his fellow-townsman, Watteau. The irritable temper of Watteau caused a separation; but in 1721 Watteau sent for Pater to come to him at Nogent-sur-Marne and gave him daily instruction.

Pater was very “modernistic” in his time, for in 1728 he was received into the Academy as a member of the new class of “peintres de sujets modernes.”

Pater was entirely absorbed in his art. He rarely left his studio, formed no friendships, painted all day and every day, and gave himself no pleasures. His feverish industry coupled with his parsimonious living—he was haunted by the fear of poverty in old age—at last told upon him and he died in Paris in 1736.

Pater is a very close follower of Watteau in subject and composition as well as in his charming and delicate color.

#### UNE FÊTE GALANTE.

Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater | Collection of
(1695–1736). | Mr. Edward J. Berwind.

It is interesting to compare this picture with the Fête Champêtre preceding it. We have two characteristic examples of Pater’s work. In the Fête Champêtre we look upon a large gathering and a miscellaneous crowd. In the picture represented here we have a more intimate group. There are certain elements in this picture that suggest Watteau; others that suggest Lancret; and still others that show us that the later Boucher and Fragonard did not deign to take a few ideas from Pater. The picture is very individual. The colors are soft and delicate—“pastel” tints we like to call them to-day—pale blues, and pinks, and yellows, and rich mauves, contrasting beautifully with the exquisite green of the foliage. Pater never produced a more artistic background, with its distant hills and picturesque buildings. The painting came from the Wertheimer Collection, London, to the present owner.

[299]

Collection of Mr. Edward J. Berwind

UNE FÊTE GALANTE

—J. B. J. Pater

[300]

#### LA SERINETTE.

Jean Baptiste Siméon Chardin | Collection of the late
(1699–1779). | Mr. Henry Clay Frick.

Madame de Pompadour, whose taste in art was always superlatively good, was the first owner of this charming picture, which has passed through many notable collections. The work is known under three titles: La Serinette (the Bird-Organ); the Education of a Canary; and The Diversions of a Lady. According to tradition this lady is Madame Chardin, wife of the painter. The sitting-room gives us an idea of her varied occupations and it would appear that she has just left her tapestry-work to give her canary a singing-lesson. The bird is seen in a cage, which stands on a little table near the window, and Madame Chardin is turning the handle of the bird-organ. We would like to know the tune the little music-box produces. Both as regards subject and treatment the picture is a masterpiece. Jean Guiffrey considers the work most charming and admires the way all the many accessories are brought into perfect harmony. “It would be impossible to find,” he says, “a more correct design and a better color scheme and tonality.”

Chardin sent this picture to the Salon of 1751 and again to that of 1755. After Madame de Pompadour’s death La Serinette passed into the notable Collections of Monsieur de Vandières, director of the Royal Buildings; the Marquis de Menars, Madame de Pompadour’s brother (sold in 1783); Baron Denon, Director of Museums (sale 1826); Count d’Houdetot (sale 1859); Duke de Morny (sale 1865); Mr. G. du Tillet of Paris; and, finally, to the late Mr. Henry Clay Frick.

The picture was shown in 1860 at the Exposition of the Association for the Mutual Relief of Artists, Painters, Sculptors, and Architects (No. 92).

Chardin was one of the greatest colorists of the French School and one of the greatest painters of the Eighteenth Century. Few painters have equalled him in his broad and free style and in his luminous effects of color and light.

[301]

Collection of the late Mr. Henry Clay Frick

LA SERINETTE

—J. B. S. Chardin

[302]

Chardin was born in Paris, Nov. 2, 1699, the son of a master-carpenter and upholsterer, who was employed to make billiard-tables for Louis XIV. After studying under Pierre Jacques Cazes, Chardin entered the studio of Noël Nicolas Coypel. Before he was thirty he had made a name as a painter of still-life. In 1728 Chardin was admitted to the Académie Royale and eventually became its treasurer. In 1752 Louis XV bestowed a pension upon him and in 1757 gave him rooms in the Louvre. In his middle period Chardin struck out in a new path—that of frank realism, selecting for subjects scenes from the domestic life of the bourgeoisie; but he treats everything, however, with the distinction and taste that belonged to France in the Eighteenth Century. Therefore, he throws a poetic glamour around a loaf of bread, a bunch of grapes, a plate of peaches, a sleeping cat, or a copper casserole. Consequently, while his subjects are similar to those of the “Little Dutch Masters,” Chardin introduces an elegance and a quality of which those painters never dreamed. Neither Pieter de Hoogh, nor Vermeer, excelled Chardin in effects of light, atmosphere, and iridescence. “Chardin,” Élie Faure writes, “did not paint much because he paints slowly with a laborious and passionate application. He has no models, but his wife, children, a few familiar animals, the everyday tableware, and cooking-utensils and then there are meat, vegetables, bread, and wine brought that same day from the butcher, the meat-roaster, the baker, and the vegetable seller. With these he writes the legend of domestic labor and of obscure life: his images speak to us after the manner of La Fontaine’s words and he is, with Watteau and Goya, the greatest painter there is in Europe between the death of Rembrandt and the maturity of Corot and of Delacroix.”

Chardin is an artist beloved by artists. In a sympathetic criticism, Armand-Dayot writes:

“It is not by accident that I am using this word métier: beauté du métier—all is comprised in that phrase. By this phrase the greater number of the French artists of the Eighteenth Century should be judged. La beauté du métier—that expresses all their efforts. And, indeed, what formula could better define Chardin than the beauté du[303] métier? An illumination, meticulous and systematic, because it has been so well ordered and arranged; light departing from one point to appear at another and showing the various objects according to the place they occupy with relation to the distance from the luminous centre; a beautiful paste of the best composition in its own day and which time has converted into a transparent and limpid enamel; and, above all, that classical arrangement, which is like that of Poussin, Le Brun, Le Sueur and Claude Lorrain, add to the play of great sweeps of color; the enchanting reflections that cross one another and that are superimposed without breaking the original balance of the contrasting colors; and the rigorous drawing—such are the reasons why we class Chardin high in the French traditions of clarity and beautiful arrangement of light. In his richness of color he is derived from the Venetians and he became the ancestor of Fantin-Latour.”

Chardin’s vogue is increasing day by day, for he belongs to that small group of great masters who have played with light. Perhaps, more than any other painter, Chardin succeeded in producing the most subtle overtones of color. M. Armand-Dayot, as we have just seen, claims Chardin as the ancestor of Fantin-Latour. May we not also suggest that in Chardin, Matisse has found inspiration for his delicate and tenuous effects in the upper reaches of the color scale?

We get a glimpse of Chardin at work from Diderot who, after a visit to his atelier, wrote:

“Chardin, who has such a keen feeling for color, keeps his eyes glued upon his canvas: his mouth is half-open; and he breathes heavily. His palette is a picture of chaos and into this chaos he dips his brush. From it he draws his work of real creation,—birds with all the delicate nuances of tint in their plumage; flowers with velvet petals; trees of varied foliage and greenery, the blue of the sky, the spray of water, animals with their soft fur and the fire flaming from their brilliant eyes. The painter rises, walks some distance away, and throws a rapid glance upon his picture; then he seats himself again before this canvas and you soon see appear flesh tints, cloth, velvet, damask, taffetas, transparent muslin, or heavy linen. You also see the ripe yellow pear falling from the tree and the green grapes hanging on the vine.”

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#### LES DEUX CONFIDENTES.

François Boucher | Collection of
(1703–1770). | Mrs. William R. Timken.

Madame de Pompadour was the first owner of this picture and it looks as if it might have been painted at her suggestion. It is signed and dated 1750 and measures 32 × 29 inches,—a perfect size for a boudoir or a small salon. Next the picture was in the Collections of Pillet-Will, the Marquis de Marigny, and the Marquis de Menars.

Here we have two young ladies of high degree playing at pastoral life. Their bare feet and the presence of sheep are the only suggestion that they are shepherdesses. They are, however, shepherdesses of the kind we read of in the eclogues of poets.

In every way the picture is charming. The composition is faultless, the lights splendidly concentrated and diffused, and the colors are of exquisite beauty. Against the green of the feathery trees in the background and the verdant turf in the foreground the lustrous silken dresses—palest blue and palest rose—of the young ladies who are exchanging confidences (doubtless of faithful or faithless lovers) appear to the greatest advantage. The flowers, tumbling out of the basket which has fallen down, are most sympathetically painted by one who rarely, if ever, omitted roses in any picture. All the colors melt and mingle in perfect harmony.

Boucher painted at the height of the Louis XV period and of this period Élie Faure says:

“François Boucher is its soul. Fashion is always present in his facile and fecund work—on ceilings, screens, carriage-panels, dessous portes, boxes and fans—shepherdesses and pastorales everywhere and on every thing. Charming in manner, generous, pleasure-loving and adored by both men and women, Boucher stands with the King’s mistress, Madame de Pompadour, as the centre of his own revolving circle of winged Cupids and garlands of flowers.”

Collection of Mrs. William R. Timken

LES DEUX CONFIDENTES

—François Boucher

François Boucher, born in Paris, Sept. 29, 1703, began his career as an illustrator and engraver and went to Italy with Carle Van Loo.[306] Returning to Paris in 1731 he frequented the gay society of operatic and theatrical circles and acquired reputation. In 1734 he was admitted to the Academy with his picture of Rinaldo and Armida now in the Louvre. Boucher became associated with the tapestry-manufactory at Beauvais and also at the Gobelins and in 1765 succeeded Carle Van Loo as first painter to Louis XV. Boucher attracted the attention of Madame de Pompadour and decorated her boudoirs and salons, and painted several portraits of this handsome lady. Boucher died in the Louvre in 1770, while painting Venus at her Toilet. According to his own record Boucher painted a thousand pictures and made ten thousand drawings and sketches.

#### A YOUNG GIRL READING A LETTER.

Jean Baptiste Greuze | Collection of
(1725–1805). | Mr. John McCormack.

This picture, an oil painting on canvas (27½ × 21½ inches), comes from the Collection of Alfred Charles de Rothschild, Seamore Place, London, and represents a young girl seated in an upholstered chair wearing a white chemise, which has slipped from her shoulders. An open letter is spread on her lap,—a letter before envelopes were known, for this has the seal still attached. However, letters bring tidings of delight or sorrow, with or without envelopes, and we have no clue to the contents of this one. We gather, however, that the missive is a love-letter.

Collection of Mr. John McCormack

A YOUNG GIRL READING A LETTER

—Jean Baptiste Greuze

Jean Baptiste Greuze was born at Tournous, near Macon, Burgundy, and was the son of a thatcher. He first studied painting with a travelling picture-pedlar named Grondon and went with him to Lyons and lived there for eight years, painting pictures and hawking them about the country. However, Grondon was the father of the wife of Grétry, the composer, so Greuze probably had a little taste of art. In 1746 he went to Paris and worked at the Academy, making some progress in historical painting and portraits. One day he astonished everybody by his picture of Un père de famille expliquant la Bible à ses[308] enfants and Le Paralytique servi par ses enfants, which caused him to be received as an Académicien. Others of this type of pathetic, or homely, story-telling in paint followed. This, then new style of art, won Greuze many admirers, among them Diderot. In 1756 Greuze went to Rome for two years and on his return to Paris began to exhibit his now famous busts and heads of beautiful young girls. Between 1755 and 1769 Greuze exhibited about one hundred and twenty pictures at the Louvre and, after the Revolution, about thirty works. He was entirely broken by the Revolution and died in 1805 in poverty and oblivion.

#### YOUNG GIRL.

Jean Baptiste Greuze | Collection of
(1725–1805). | Mr. William Randolph Hearst.

We hardly know which face to admire the most—that of the little girl or that of her little dog with the bright, intelligent eyes, so loving and so trustful.

Collection of Mr. William Randolph Hearst

YOUNG GIRL

—Jean Baptiste Greuze

This picture (14 × 14 inches) Greuze has painted with the tenderest care,—depicting the budding beauty of the child; and he has, moreover, used the swirling curves in such a distinguished manner that we think of the circles and the curves in Raphael’s Madonna della Sedia in the Pitti. There is a gentle sadness in the face of the little girl of which the little companion and friend, so confidently nestled in her loving arms, seems to be conscious; and, perhaps, a little worried as well.

#### LA MARQUISE DE BESONS TUNING A GUITAR

Jean Baptiste Greuze | Collection of
(1725–1805). | Dr. and Mrs. Henry Barton Jacobs.

At the Salon of 1757 Greuze exhibited this portrait under the title of Madame X Tuning a Guitar. Many who saw the picture recognized Madame X as Anne de Bricqueville de la Luzerne, wife of Jacques Bazin, Marquis de Besons, a very prominent and powerful lord of the[310] Houses of Hupin, Neuvill, etc., and Lieutenant-General of the King’s armies.

Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Henry Barton Jacobs

LA MARQUISE DE BESONS TUNING A GUITAR

—Jean Baptiste Greuze

Madame de Besons is wearing a pale pink silk dress with a deep flounce with sleeves of the favorite Mechlin lace and a large cape with collar. Her hair is waved in fine shells and adorned with the little spray of flowers that Madame de Pompadour had made the fashion at this moment. A necklace consisting of three rows of perfectly matched pearls proclaim Madame de Besons a lady of wealth. The chair in which Madame de Besons is sitting is a handsome example of Louis XV furniture, gold frame upholstered in light green brocade. The background is dark grey. The painting (37 × 29¼ inches) is an unusual and a most artistic work of Greuze.

#### LA MARQUISE DE VILLEMONBLE.

François Hubert Drouais | Collection of
(1727–1775). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

One is often asked to define the style Louis XV. Could there possibly be a better definition than is expressed in this exquisite portrait of an exquisite lady,—La Marquise de Villemonble? Is not the very essence, the spirit, the perfume of the Eighteenth Century seen in the face, the dress, the pose, the manner, the charm, and the “grand style” of the Marquise?

It is very evident that Drouais took deep delight in painting this aristocratic lady and her beautiful costume as well. We can see with what pleasure the painter’s brush swept into being the lustre and the folds of the pale lemon satin dress; traced the delicate pattern of the Mechlin lace that forms the ruffles of the bell-sleeves and the garniture of the neck; tied the bows of rich pink satin adorning the corsage and holding the lace at the sleeves; touched up the cluster of shaded grey feathers and rounded the pearls in the coiffure; placed the little string of black velvet around the neck; and lingered upon the sheet of music which the Marquise is holding so gracefully. The words below the notes show that the lady is a singer. Yet all these carefully painted[312] details do not detract from the beauty of the lady herself. Her features are high-bred, sweet, and perfect, and her expression shows great loveliness of nature. Altogether the Marquise de Villemonble is a beautiful and charming person and Drouais, we may be sure, has not flattered her in this beautiful and charming portrait. The canvas (46 × 35 inches) is signed and dated 1761 and it is interesting to relate that it came directly from the Villemonble family to its present owner, Mr. Jules S. Bache.

François Hubert Drouais was born in Paris in 1727 and studied under his father, Hubert Drouais (1699–1767), a portrait-painter who was also famous for his miniatures. Young François grew up with the great painters of the day, who were friends of his father—Nattier, de Troy, Oudry, and others—and he became a pupil of Carle Van Loo and Boucher. With such masters is it any wonder that Drouais should have developed style?

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

LA MARQUISE DE VILLEMONBLE

—François Hubert Drouais

Drouais began to exhibit at the Salon of 1755 and appeared every year subsequently until his death in 1775. His talents brought him recognition and he became painter to the King, to Monsieur and Madame, and practically all the nobility and aristocracy of France sat to him. Naturally, the world of fashion followed suit. Drouais painted Madame de Pompadour and owed much to her patronage. He also painted Madame du Barry many times and his vogue continued through the reign of Louis XVI. One of his most successful portraits—Marie Antoinette as Hebe—now hangs at Chantilly and gives a most distinguished presentation of the young Queen, a proud figure in yellow draperies, rose-colored waist ribbons, and lilac scarf, holding a golden cup in one hand and a silver ewer in the other.

Drouais holds his own with Watteau, Pater, Lancret, Fragonard, Greuze, Chardin, and de la Tour, for he, too, like these artists of radiant style, knew how to present with skillful and polished technique, flowing lines, fluent grace, piquant expression, characteristic gesture, and fashionable dress. Moreover, his quick observation and light touch produce something akin to sparkling comedy; and yet in all the play of his brush and his airy manner Drouais never failed to create an atmosphere of elegance and distinction.

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#### MADEMOISELLE HELVETIUS.

François Hubert Drouais | Collection of
(1727–1775). | Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff.

That Drouais was a master who could succeed with any subject for portraiture will be appreciated by comparing this sympathetic presentation of a pretty little girl with the preceding portrait of La Marquise de Villemonble, who appears in the full beauty of maturity. Even Greuze, with all his skill in representing youthful charm, never produced a lovelier work than this Mademoiselle Helvetius. Here the little girl looks at us smiling beneath her big “shepherdess” hat, holding in her dress clusters of purple and jade colored grapes. Drouais evidently appreciated the decorative beauty of the grape and its leaves, for he has brought out their character and lusciousness with a loving surety of touch that shows him to be on a par with any painter who has specialized in fruit.

Collection of Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff

MADEMOISELLE HELVETIUS

—François Hubert Drouais

The delightful painting, which is signed, came to its present owner from the J. P. Morgan Collection.

#### L’INVOCATION À L’AMOUR.

Jean Honoré Fragonard | Collection of
(1732–1806). | Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff.

The de Goncourts remarked in their L’Art du Dix-huitième Siècle that the two great—and the only great—poets in France in the Eighteenth Century were Watteau and Fragonard; and they very fancifully and very truly said that the saucy little Loves hovering about in the sky of L’Embarquement pour L’Île de Cythère were “getting ready to fly to Fragonard and to put on his palette the hues of their butterfly wings.”

Of that tragic painting, Corésus and Callirhoé (in the Louvre) the de Goncourts, noting the extraordinary movement and whirl in the work, said “a great mute cry seems to rise in the composition,” and[316] then added: “This cry of a picture, so new for the Eighteenth Century, is Passion.”

Fragonard had the genius for expressing movement and emotion to such a degree that sometimes “a cry” seems to issue from his canvas. This rush of movement and this torrent of emotion, this outburst like leaping flames and whirling clouds, is expressed in full power in the picture represented here, which bears some likeness to the Fountain of Love in the Wallace Gallery, London.

L’Invocation à l’Amour (20½ × 24¾ inches) was painted between 1780 and 1785. It came into public notice at the La Rochefoucauld-Liancourt Sale in Paris in 1827 and has since belonged to the Collections of M. le duc de Polignac; to Madame la duchesse de Polignac née Crillon; to Mr. L. Neumann, London; and to M. Jean Bertoloni, Paris. L’Invocation à l’Amour was shown at the Fragonard Exposition, Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Paris in 1921, and came thereafter into possession of Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff.

Collection of Mr. Mortimer L. Schiff

L’INVOCATION À L’AMOUR

—Jean Honoré Fragonard

Jean Honoré Fragonard was born at Grasse in 1732 and died in Paris in 1806. He studied under Chardin and Boucher, won the grand prix de Rome at the age of twenty, studied in Rome, visited Naples and Sicily with Hubert Robert, and, returning to Paris, leaped into fame with his Corésus and Callirhoé in 1765. Fragonard painted every subject—love-scenes, portraits, genre, and landscape—equally well and always with the lightest touch, the most delicate colors, and infinite charm.

“His method,” says Louis Hautecœur, “is even more dexterous than that of Boucher, because he is better instructed; this rapidity of brush-work is not negligent, because it is guided by previous study; this freedom of handling is not hap-hazard: it springs from the joy of creating; that is what makes Fragonard a great painter. Thus a natural sensibility, which gave to his works movement, picturesque character, and color seems to be the master faculty of Fragonard; and out of this movement, this feeling for the picturesque, and this color arises a fantasy composed of intelligence and imagination. The Fête of St. Cloud becomes a fairy scene; the Garden of Fontainebleau the setting of a dream; and the Fountain of Love flows in a world of mystery.[318][317] Fragonard was not only a painter unique in style, but he was a poet of that century of which he saw the close—a poet whose sensibility was shown less in the nature of his works than in the manner in which he treated them: in his golden rays of light; in the shadowy recesses of the parks; in the cloud forms of a tempest; in the youthful charm of children; and in the grace of women—and herein lies his originality.”

#### LE BILLET-DOUX.

Jean Honoré Fragonard | Collection of
(1732–1806). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

In studying this graceful composition with its subtle harmonies of color and its amazing play of iridescent reflections and ever changing lights it is easy to see that Fragonard spent some time in the studio of Chardin, having the benefit of instruction from that great master. Charm is the keynote of the picture. The colors are indescribable as they are constantly changing; but the general tonality is golden-brown in all the shades of leaves at autumn with sunlight playing upon them and combined with the softest blue of the sky; and these browns and blues are so merged and mingled that they shimmer and vary like “changeable velvet.” The effect is, therefore, both rich and, at the same time, tender, soft, and brilliant. A few high lights of pink are discreetly used. The charming, piquant, and lovely lady, is said to be the daughter of Boucher and was married to another painter, Baudouin, and, after his death, to M. de Cuviller. The lady is half rising from her writing-table and is holding in her left hand a bouquet of pink roses in a conical paper-holder into which she is placing a letter, addressed to “Monsieur M. C.” Her head is turned a little to the front and her expression seems to indicate that she does not wish to be detected in her pretty romance. She is a person of elegance and fashion and her dress is altogether comme il faut, in what we please to call to-day a “Watteau costume,” with the panniers and the “Watteau plait” at the back. The material is a very pale blue velvet with brownish lights. Her hair is dressed fashionably and surmounted by[320] a modish little “butterfly cap” brightened with pink ribbons, which, with the pink roses, are the only notes of bright color in the picture. Lying on the chair and looking directly out of the picture is a darling little poodle dog. In the “Billet-Doux,” Louis Hautecœur says, “we can best appreciate the skill of the master who delighted in making a golden light play across a yellow curtain upon a blue robe.”

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

LE BILLET-DOUX

—Jean Honoré Fragonard

This painting (33¾ × 26⅜ inches) passed through the Collections of the Baron Feuillet de Conches; Madame Jagerschmidt; M. Ernest Cronier; and M. Joseph Bardac,—all of Paris. The Billet-Doux was shown at the Alsace-Lorraine Exhibitions of 1874 and 1927, and is lauded in all the standard works on Fragonard.

#### LA MARQUISE DE LA FARE.

Jean Honoré Fragonard | Collection of
(1732–1806). | Mrs. James B. Haggin.

Could anything be lighter, lovelier, and more graceful in the way of painting than this distinguished representation of the distinguished Marquise de la Fare? For elegant simplicity as well as technique this portrait is without a peer. Only Fragonard could have painted it. There is something here that reminds us of the flicker and flutter and quick movement and vitality of the flame,—that symbol of the soul and of eternal life. Unconsciously, perhaps, by these leaping, flashing lines the painter symbolized his own genius and the spirit of the exquisite lady he was privileged to portray. With his butterfly touch and his liquid, rapid brush, Fragonard caught this charming personality. Yet, behind this quick impressionistic work—as light in key and ethereal in harmony as Claude Monet or Matisse—what knowledge, what skill! Here is all the majesty of Greek sculpture at its climax of perfection, but Greek sculpture rendered dynamic and human. And what a pose! What exquisite arms and hands! What style! What chic! The dress is cream and the drapery, old rose, harmonizing with the ash-blonde hair and blue eyes.

Collection of Mrs. James B. Haggin

LA MARQUISE DE LA FARE

—Jean Honoré Fragonard

The picture (31¾ × 25 inches) came directly from the de la Fare family to its present owner.

[322]

#### THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK.

Hubert Robert | Collection of
(1733–1808). | Dr. and Mrs. Henry Barton Jacobs.

When Hubert Robert exhibited for the first time in August, 1765, he won instant recognition. The French public at a period when taste was supreme, praised the originality of Hubert Robert’s design and his exquisite delicacy of coloring and decided, moreover, that although his study of the antique had been thorough and sympathetic, the new artist was, above all, a Parisian of Parisians.

Hubert Robert plays on two themes: one, the ruins of antiquity—especially Rome—and the other, garden-scenes. In fact, his success with ruins as subject-matter gave him the sobriquet of “Robert des Ruines.” Hubert Robert was born in Paris in 1733 and after some preliminary art education went to Rome in 1754, where he studied for eleven years, devoting himself almost exclusively to antiquities. On his return to Paris he was made a member of the Academy and his pictures brought him instant fame. He lived in the studios in the Louvre until the outbreak of the Revolution, when he was imprisoned for ten months; but during this time he painted and produced a Taking of the Prisoners by Torchlight in Open Carts from St. Pélagie to St. Lazare. He was lucky in his release, which occurred through the mistake of the jailer, who sent another prisoner of the same name to the guillotine. Hubert Robert died in Paris on April 15, 1808. Equal to his reputation as a painter was his reputation as a landscape-gardener. He was the successor of Le Nôtre, whose style had given place to the Anglo-Chinese gardens. Hubert Robert, as architect of the King’s Gardens, designed the Baths of Apollo in the Park of Versailles in 1784, and he laid out the very famous grounds of Mézéville near Étampes-in-Beauce, in which work Joseph Vernet was associated.

Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Henry Barton Jacobs

THE FOUNTAIN IN THE PARK

—Hubert Robert

The distinguished picture shown here (57½ × 39 inches) from the Collection of M. S. Bardac, Paris, presents the artist also as a garden-lover. All the poetry produced by a tossing stream of spray among green trees is expressed here.

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“Hubert Robert,” writes Henri Frantz, “is one of those who, brought back into fashion by the de Goncourts and their generation, enjoy a reputation increasing every day; and thus drawings in red chalk or in water-colors which one might easily have picked up years ago in the boxes of the petty dealers of Paris or of Rome are found to-day in museums and in the most celebrated Collections and fetch the highest prices in European sales. Moreover, Hubert Robert did not go out of fashion till the commencement of the Nineteenth Century and no artist was fêted and admired by his contemporaries more than he.”

Hubert Robert has again become the fashion.

#### MADAME LABILLE-GUIARD AND TWO PUPILS.

Madame Labille-Guiard | Collection of
(1749–1803). | Mr. Edward J. Berwind.

Here we have a picture painted in the grand style, a beautiful composition, a marvellous expression of technique, and a portrait-group including a self-portrait of the artist.

Madame Labille-Guiard, a handsome women of dashing style, is seated before her easel busy at work, wearing a very handsome costume and not one exactly appropriate to working in a studio. However, the painter being as delightfully feminine in her tastes as she was masculine in her artistic performance, has the vanity of her sex to wish to be perpetuated in rich and fashionable attire,—comme il faut in every respect.

The two young ladies, who are observing the work of Madame Labille-Guiard are her favorite pupils, Mesdemoiselles Capet and Rosemond.

Madame Labille-Guiard’s dress is blue-grey satin with lace at neck and sleeves and hat of golden straw with blue-grey ostrich feathers matching the dress. The chair in which the artist is seated is upholstered in green velvet. The pupil in front wears a dark brown dress. Most beautifully is painted the diaphanous ruffle at her elbow.

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Collection of Mr. Edward J. Berwind

MADAME LABILLE-GUIARD AND TWO PUPILS

—Madame Labille-Guiard

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The picture of large dimensions (82½ × 60 inches) is signed and dated 1785 and was exhibited at the Salon in that year. From the Collection of Madame Griois, a descendant of the artist, the painting came to its present owner, Mr. Edward J. Berwind.

Adélaïde Labille-des-Vertus was born in Paris, April 11, 1749. She studied art under François Élie Vincent, a clever miniature-painter and afterward under Latour. She married twice: first, the sculptor Guiard, and, after his death, François André Vincent, the son of her former teacher, himself a capable painter and etcher. Madame Labille-Guiard became an Académicien in 1783 at the same time with Madame Vigée Lebrun. She painted a great number of large oil-portraits and miniatures, and in 1787 and 1789 attracted attention by her portraits of the King’s daughters, Madame Adélaïde and Madame Victoire. She also painted a large picture for Monsieur (afterwards Louis XVIII), called the Initiation of a Knight of Malta, which was finished at the outbreak of the Revolution; but which was destroyed. Madame Labille-Guiard died in Paris on Floréal 4, An XI. de la République, or April 8, 1803.

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## ENGLISH, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

When Théophile Gautier saw Gainsborough’s portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Hallet, now known as The Morning Walk, he said that he felt “a strange retrospective sensation, so intense is the illusion it produces of the spirit of the Eighteenth Century. We really fancy we see the young couple,” he adds, “walking arm-in-arm along a garden avenue.”

It is this “strange retrospective sensation” that we feel when we look upon the canvases of Gainsborough, Reynolds, and Romney.

The Eighteenth Century was one of those periods in the world’s history when Society reached its peak, when Society was the goal of all things and of every one, and when it was dominated by taste, elegance, gaiety, lightness, brightness, wit, beauty, and charm. There was charm in everything—in art, in music, in literature, in conversation, and in dress. There was a chic and dainty grace with which the Eighteenth Century belle wore her large hat, tied her sash, and pointed the toe of her high-heeled satin slipper on the polished floor of the ball-room, or the greensward of the garden or lawn; and there was a corresponding chic and dashing elegance with which the Eighteenth Century beau made his bow, tapped his snuff-box, or handed the “ladies of St. James’s” in and out of their sedan-chairs.

This sparkling, iridescent age, with its taste, grace, and wit can never come again—for our world has travelled far along another path—but if the Eighteenth Century cannot return to us, we can return to it by means of its literature, its music, and its art.

At such a period, when the social world was of exceptional brilliance, it is only natural that the art of portraiture should have flourished with unparalleled lustre.

Three great geniuses arose in England to bring this special branch of painting up to a pitch that had never been reached there before.

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It is true that Holbein’s portraits are magnificent, stately, and true to life, and that they present wonderful portrayals of character; but Holbein was painting in a world of drastic change, of adventure, of political agitation, when nearly everyone whom he painted had the fear of the axe descending upon his neck. It is true that Van Dyck painted people of elegance and distinguished manner—the portrait of Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick on page 189 would alone prove this—and gives us a glimpse into a charming world.

But Reynolds, Gainsborough, and Romney were the first to paint Society—that brilliant, witty, provocative, frivolous, graceful, charming, chic, and altogether delightful Society of the Eighteenth Century.

The Eighteenth Century! How we delight in it!

We are not too far away to feel at home in it; and, moreover, much of our beautiful Georgian architecture survives in this country with Chippendale, Sheraton, and Heppelwhite furniture and Spode, Wedgwood, Chelsea, Lowestoft and various china, with other relics besides, to show us that our Colonial forefathers lived in style and elegance. The latest fashions in household furnishings and dress travelled here from London even quicker than they travelled to the English provinces.

To lift the curtain upon the Eighteenth Century is like lifting the cover from a Chinese jar of pot-pourri; and just as that subtle yet pungent scent of rose-leaves, lavender, sweet spices, and musk float from it, so visions appear before another sense. Our inherited memories bring before us pictures of brocade gowns or “hoops,” flowered silk overdresses, high-heeled satin slippers with glittering buckles, ruffles of Mechlin lace, “chicken-skin” fans gay with Watteau or Lancret or Pater pictures, rustling silks, shimmering satins, nodding feathers, cinnamon coats, Ramilies tie-wigs, lace-solitaires, wrist-ruffles, cocked-hats, swords, and snuff-boxes.

We seem to stand in lovely gardens, bright with roses and hollyhocks, larkspur, foxglove, amaranth, love-in-a-mist, bleeding-hearts, and gilliflowers, noting the moving shadow on the sundial and watching the stately peacocks behind the well-clipped hedges of box and holly; or we follow the fashionable world to Ranelagh or Vauxhall, where we look with fascinated gaze on the beautiful women in hoops[331] of brocade or lutestring silk, much painted, powdered and patched, glancing archly beneath their coquettish “gipsy hats” at their gallant escorts, who know so well how to lead them through the steps of a minuet or a gavotte to the rococo tunes of Rameau, Dr. Arne, or Couperin with their quirls and pretty runs and trills and long pauses for stately bows.

That world is so fascinating to us that we fancy we, too, could wear without embarrassment the elaborate costume and that we, too, would feel much at home with Horace Walpole and his friends at Strawberry Hill. We, too, might be able to prepare minced chicken in a chafing-dish, just as satisfactorily as the Miss Berrys; and we like to fancy that we could take part in their airy conversation of charm, banter, and light mockery. At any rate, if we should not be able to succeed in entertaining Horace Walpole, we are very certain that Sir Horace could entertain us!

All the Society people of London of this time seem very friendly to us and we are strangely “at home” with the portraits of Gainsborough, Sir Joshua, and Romney.

When we look upon Diana, Lady Crosbie, Lady Betty Delmé, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, Maria Walpole, Duchess of Gloucester, Lady Derby, and The Hon. Mrs. Davenport do we not feel that we have known and talked to these people in the flesh? Their eyes meet ours and our thoughts meet theirs,—and we are not strangers to one another.

And when we look upon Gainsborough’s Mall does it not bring back memories of the time when we, ourselves, walked there with all the gay throng of a bright morning?

Lord Gower said very aptly:

“Gainsborough created a new school by making a lady’s petticoat a thing of beauty. He could even throw a halo upon a ribbon or a scarf.”

That is true; but Lord Gower forgot the fact that the lady had by her taste and her high-bred elegance conferred distinction on her clothes by the fitness with which she selected them and by the manner in which she wore them.

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Thrice in England have pairs of geniuses appeared at the same time, inviting comparison and attracting partisans—Keats and Shelley; Thackeray and Dickens; and Reynolds and Gainsborough.

There should be no partisans. The more we love and admire Keats, the better we are able to admire and love Shelley; the more we appreciate and delight in Dickens, the more we are able to appreciate and delight in Thackeray; and the more we comprehend and enjoy Sir Joshua, the more we are able to comprehend and enjoy Gainsborough.

Although they were rivals—and quite bitter ones at times—the two supreme English painters of the Eighteenth Century admired each other prodigiously.

“Damn him! how various he is!” Gainsborough exclaimed of Reynolds; and Sir Joshua remarked to Sir George Beaumont of Gainsborough; “I cannot imagine how he manages to produce his effects.”

“What is it then that gives Romney his hold upon this generation and will continue to give him a hold so long as a love of art endures among us?” Humphrey Ward asks; and then he answers his own question as follows:

“In part, of course, it is because he shares with Reynolds and Gainsborough the good fortune of having kept alive for us a society of which the fascination is enduring—that limited and privileged society of the Eighteenth Century which has realized such a perfect art of living and with which we can clasp hands across the gap as we cannot with the men and women of Charles the Second’s time, or even of Queen Anne’s. Much more is it because of temperament and training. Romney was an artist in love with loveliness; because he found it in the women and children of his time and stamped it on countless canvases.

“To our problem-haunted painters of to-day it may be seen that his sense of form was ‘generic and superficial’; they may condemn him because he did not try to penetrate deep into character and because he simplified too much, like the Greek sculptors. The lover of mere human beauty will care little for such objections, provided that a portrait gives him the essentials of a beautiful face.

‘The witchery of eyes, the grace that tips
The inexpressible douceur of the lips’—

[333]

and has blended them with the aristocratic dignity of the Lady Sligo, or with the melting sweetness of many of the sketches of Emma. This is what he finds in every first-rate Romney; and he finds much more. He finds pure and unfaded color, the fruit of the painter’s knowledge and of a self-restraint which forbade him to search for complex effects through rash experiments. He finds a quality of painting which, though it wants the subtlety and preciousness that Gainsborough reached instinctively and Sir Joshua by effort, is a quality to which nobody but a master can attain. To be convinced of this we have only to look closely at the brush-work of the eyes in any of the National Gallery Romneys, or the draperies in such pictures as the Lady Warwick and Children or the Lady Derby.

“When all is said, Romney remains one of the greatest painters of the Eighteenth Century and one of the glories of the English name.”

We are apt to think that it was easier to conquer a reputation in the Eighteenth Century than it is to-day and that Sir Joshua Reynolds, Gainsborough, Romney, Hoppner, and Raeburn stepped easily into their commanding positions. Let us remember that Horace Walpole mentions the fact that there were two thousand portrait-painters in London in his time!

The story of English Painting previous to the Eighteenth Century is interesting and very different from that of any nation on the Continent.

The Wars of the Roses, which lasted thirty years (1455–1485), coincide with the great developments of Painting in Italy and Flanders. During this period, while York and Lancaster were, like the Lion and the Unicorn, fighting for the Crown, no attention could be paid to the painting of pictures. Up to this period England had had a notable past in portraiture, fresco-painting, and, even more particularly, in the art of illumination and miniature-painting. In the decoration of manuscripts from about 1250 to 1350 the Anglo-Norman painters stood first in this branch of art. The old monastic artists had great traditions to follow and superb models to draw upon, such as the Book of Kells (dating from the Eighth or Ninth Century); and the Winchester[334] School of the Tenth Century stood very high before the advent of the Normans in 1066.

Our own country to-day can show many examples of this splendid work in private collections. After William Caxton set up his printing-press at Westminster in 1471, there was little more need for the laboriously written manuscripts with their exquisite miniature-painting and illumination.

Oliver Cromwell’s Roundhead bandits and other Puritans with their wholesale demolishing and slashing of all art and everything beautiful together with the Great Fire of London in 1666 destroyed all the paintings that could have told us just what had been accomplished in England at the time when Fra Angelico, Fra Lippo Lippi, and Botticelli were creating masterpieces in Italy and when Roger van der Weyden and Memling were painting gloriously in the great realm of the Dukes of Burgundy. Such works as the Romaunt de la Rose and other Anglo-Norman manuscripts give us a hint of what Painting in England must have been; for, of course, English, or Anglo-Norman Painting, in Plantagenet days must have been—as in other countries—an enlarged version of the brightly colored miniatures touched up with gold-leaf in the manuscripts.

Henry VIII seems to have been the first English King who was a patron of art in the modern sense. But there was no English artist of power to be patronized. The German Hans Holbein (see page 240) was made Court-Painter. Holbein painted all the great personages in Tudor England and his influence lasted long after his death. Miniature-portraits were also popular. The greatest artist in this line was Nicholas Hilliard (1547–1619), a native of Exeter, trained as a goldsmith, a follower of Holbein, and appointed goldsmith, carver, and portrait-painter to Queen Elizabeth (whose portrait he painted many times). Later he was portrait-painter to James I. It was Hilliard, too, who engraved the Great Seal of England in 1587. Hilliard’s pupil, Isaac Oliver (1556–1617?), also a pupil of Federigo Zuccaro, was unsurpassed as a miniature-painter and taught his son Peter (1601–1660), who was famous for his drawings and water-colors as well as for his miniatures. Samuel Cooper (1609–1672), achieved a[335] great reputation as a miniaturist portrait-painter and painted Charles II, Henrietta Maria, all the celebrities of the Court, and also John Milton and Oliver Cromwell. Collectors appreciate his works to-day.

Holbein left no School and there was no one to succeed him. Consequently when Antonio Moro (see page 257), came to England from Spain in 1553 to paint Mary Tudor, he stayed in London for some time painting celebrities.

In Queen Elizabeth’s time another foreign portrait-painter, Federigo Zuccaro (or Zucchero) arrived from Italy with a great reputation, having worked for Pope Gregory XIII and the Cardinal of Lorraine, and also in Antwerp and Amsterdam. Zuccaro painted Queen Elizabeth, Sir Francis Walsingham, Sir Walter Raleigh, the Earl of Leicester, and many other English notables.

Another foreigner, Daniel Mytens (1590?–1656), arrived in the reign of James I, became his Court-Painter and continued in the post in the reign of Charles I, until Van Dyck’s popularity sent him back to Holland. Mytens painted in the style of Rubens and Van Dyck. Hampton Court Palace contains many full length portraits by him. A portrait by Mytens of Jeffrey Hudson (see page 191), holding a dog by a leash, hangs in Buckingham Palace.

However, in the reign of Charles I, Anthony Van Dyck (see page 181) dominated Painting just as Holbein had in the reign of Henry VIII. For years after his death every painter tried to follow Van Dyck’s style; but they all missed his distinction, not having his genius to start with.

Civil war and Puritanism killed art completely. Consequently when “Charlie came over the water” and the “King Enjoyed his Own Again,” there was nobody in the kingdom able to paint an acceptable portrait. Again a foreigner met the need. This time it was Peter Lely (1618–1680), who was a Dutchman, born in Westphalia, Germany, the son of Pieter van der Faes, a captain of infantry, who had changed his name to Lely. In 1640 young Lely was in England, painting landscapes and trying to imitate Van Dyck in portraiture. The marriage of Princess Mary to William, Prince of Orange gave Lely his first opportunity and he painted the Royal couple with[336] Charles II, who made him a knight and baronet in 1679. Sir Peter only enjoyed his honors a year, for he died in 1680. Sir Peter Lely painted a great number of portraits, including the “Court Beauties,” which now hang in Hampton Court Palace.

The Court-Painter of Queen Mary II and Queen Anne was another foreigner, Godfrey Kneller (1646–1723), a native of Lübeck, a pupil of Ferdinand Bol, Carlo Maratti, and Bernini, with painting experiences in Rome and Venice. Kneller painted portraits of Charles II, Louis XIV, James II, William III, Queen Mary, Queen Anne, and George I. For Queen Mary II he painted the “Beauties” at Hampton Court, in a certain sense a continuation of Sir Peter Lely’s “Beauties.” Kneller was knighted in 1692 and made a baronet in 1715.

Sir Godfrey painted the members of the Kit-Cat Club and every person of distinction in England. In 1705 he settled near Twickenham. Pope wrote an epitaph for Kneller’s monument in Westminster Abbey.

William Hogarth (1697–1764) who now enters the lists, is the first really English painter. Hogarth was a native of London and an engraver as well as a painter. Hogarth became Sergeant-Painter to the King in 1757. He first attracted attention by his prints for Butler’s Hudibras in 1726 and at this time began to paint in oils. In 1731 he painted The Harlot’s Progress and followed this with Southwark Fair and The Rake’s Progress which gave him great fame as a satirist. In 1745 he painted his own Portrait and the Marriage à la Mode (six scenes). The vigor and personality of his portraits, the beautiful coloring of his palette, and the atmosphere of the Eighteenth Century make Hogarth one of the great names in art. England was a long time producing an artist; but when he came he was a very great one.

Hogarth was so pre-eminently a chronicler of the fashions and follies of his time that we are apt to forget his beautiful use of color, and Hogarth’s technique is so solid and so sure that his colors are as fresh to-day as when they were painted.

Hogarth did not believe in his powers of portraiture; but the world does not agree with him. The portrait of Lavinia Fenton as Polly Peachum in the Beggar’s Opera, (National Gallery, London) ranks as[337] one of the great portraits of the world. And there are others: David Garrick and his Wife in Windsor Castle; his own Portrait (National Gallery, London); Archbishop Herring (Lambeth Palace); Peg Woffington; and many others.

Hogarth’s book The Analysis of Beauty had the following origin. In his own portrait painted in 1745 he drew on a palette in one corner of the picture a serpentine line with the words: “The line of beauty and grace.” So much discussion ensued that Hogarth wrote the book to explain what he meant and to establish a standard of beauty.

The Eighteenth Century saw the great period of English Painting expressed in Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723–1792); Thomas Gainsborough (1727–1788); and George Romney (1734–1802). Others of importance were Richard Wilson (1714–1782), famous for his landscapes in many of which ruins were introduced; Francis Cotes (1725–1770), famous portrait-painter; and, lapping over into the Nineteenth Century, Sir William Beechey (1753–1839), who became portrait-painter to the Queen; John Hoppner (1758?–1810), portrait-painter (see page 416); John Opie (1761–1807), historical portrait-painter; Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769–1830); Sir Henry Raeburn (1756–1823); Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775–1851); John Constable (1776–1837); John Wilkie (1785–1841); and John Crome, known as “Old Crome” (1793–1842).

#### LADY BETTY DELMÉ.

Sir Joshua Reynolds | Collection of
(1723–1792). | Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee.

This, one of Sir Joshua’s finest group pictures (93 × 57 inches), was painted in 1777, a year in which the artist made many notable portraits including that of Diana, Viscountess Crosbie (see page 345). Lady Betty Delmé is seated at the base of an old beech-tree on her estate between London and Portsmouth, her arm around her children. The little Scotch terrier seems much interested in his master. The whole is a wonderful study in amber and russet tones. The picture came to Mrs. Satterlee from her father, the late Mr. J. P. Morgan.

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Joshua Reynolds was born in Plympton Earl Plymouth, July 16, 1723, the son of the Rev. Samuel Reynolds, headmaster of the grammar school. Early showing great talent for drawing, young Joshua was apprenticed in 1740 to Thomas Hudson, the portrait-painter, in London. Three years later he returned home and established himself as a portrait-painter at Plymouth Dock, where he met William Gandy, a painter, who had no little influence upon his style. In 1744 Reynolds was back in London and in 1749 back in Devonshire, this time settling in Devonport. In this year he met at Mount Edgcumbe young Commodore Keppel (afterwards Admiral), whose portrait he painted and with whom he formed a great friendship. Accepting Keppel’s invitation to sail with him on the Centurion for a Mediterranean trip, Reynolds eventually reached Rome, where he spent two years. While studying in the Vatican he caught a severe cold which resulted in a life-long deafness. Returning home in 1753, Reynolds took rooms in St. Martin’s Lane, then the headquarters of art, and people began to flock to his studio. He then removed to Newport Street and in 1760 established himself in Leicester Fields (now Leicester Square), which for thirty years was the rendez-vous for the artistic, literary, and distinguished world of London. In 1768 Reynolds was unanimously elected first President of the just-established Royal Academy and in 1769 was knighted by George III. In 1784 Sir Joshua succeeded Allan Ramsay as Painter-in-Ordinary to the King. In 1789 his eyesight began to fail and he soon had to relinquish his art. Sir Joshua died in 1792 and was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral with great pomp. In addition to his enormous list of paintings Sir Joshua designed the windows for New College, Oxford, and Oxford gave him the degree of D. C. L. Sir Joshua’s famous Discourses on Art were delivered between 1769 and 1790 at the Academy “to encourage a solid and vigorous course of study.”

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee

LADY BETTY DELMÉ

—Sir Joshua Reynolds

When we think of the thousands of pictures that Sir Joshua painted—all of them fine and many of them great—we stand amazed at the capacity of the artist who produced them. They were all creations! The five portraits of little Isabella Gordon known as Angels’ Heads (National Gallery, London), which in lightness, delicacy, and iridescence[340][339] have been compared to the petals of a flower and the melting softness of the rainbow; Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse; the Strawberry Girl; the Age of Innocence; Nelly O’Brien; Kitty Fisher; Penelope Boothby; Mrs. Abington; Lord Ligonier; The Graces Decorating a Terminal figure of Hymen; Diana, Lady Crosbie; Mrs. Hardinge; Lady Cockburn and her Children;—all belong to the first rank of original and artistic achievement.

“Reynolds,” Sir Walter Armstrong writes, “arrived at results scarcely to be distinguished from those of genius, and did so entirely by the action of an original mind and a profound taste upon accumulated materials. His path towards excellence was conscious, discriminative, judicial. Every step he took was the result of a deliberate choice. He felt no heats driving him into particular expression in his own despite. Just as by fairness of mind he produced the effect of sympathy among his friends, so by unerring judgment he produces the effect of creation on us who value his art. He appears to me the supreme, if not the only, modern instance of a painter reaching greatness along a path, every step of which was trodden deliberately, with a full consciousness of why it was taken and whither it was leading, and with the power unimpaired to turn back or to change the goal at any moment. Superficially the art of Sir Joshua resembled that of Raphael as little as it well could; mentally the processes of the two men were curiously alike. Both possessed taste to such a degree that it became genius; and both were endowed, for the service of their taste, with a mental industry which is rare.”

It is unfortunate that Sir Joshua experimented so deeply with his pigments and glazes so that we can see none of his pictures in their pristine beauty and brilliance. That he was a rare colorist we would know from Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse and the Angels’ Heads—the former rich and gorgeous and the latter iridescent and delicate—showing the two extremes.

Here is Sir Joshua’s palette given in the Farington Diary under date of August 14, 1806:

“Marchi (Sir Joshua Reynolds’s assistant) I called on before dinner to desire him to call upon J. Taylor to give his opinion of a picture[341] said to be a portrait of Garrick by Sir J. Reynolds. I desired Marchi to state to me what colors Sir Joshua Reynolds had placed upon his palette and the order in which they were laid. He named them as follows. He used a handle palette as it is called: White; Naples Yellow; Yellow oker; Vermillion; light red; lake; black. Asphaltum he used occasionally, but that he had it in a galley-pot. His vehicles were: Mastick varnish and drying oil made into Macgilp in a pot. Nut oil which he used with his white in a pot. Mastick varnish only, which he sometimes used alone; and Marchi observed that it caused his colors to crack and fly off. Wax (white virgin wax) he had in a tin pot which he melted at the fire when he proposed to use it. This vehicle Marchi observed caused his colors to scale off from the canvas in flakes.”

To mention the sitters who came to Leicester Fields and the company that gathered there every evening when Sir Joshua was not dining out would be to list the entire society of London in the Eighteenth Century.

“In these days we are apt to forget that to many of Sir Joshua’s contemporaries, with the stricter notions of social precedency in vogue a century ago,” Sir Walter Armstrong notes, “the painter’s station in London society must have seemed almost an outrage, especially as it had been won without any kind of pretence or undue submission to those who were then called the great. Fond as he was of the best that Society could give, he lived his life in his own way, invited whom he chose to his table, leaving his guests to shake down among themselves as best they could, and, so far as we can discover, paying little heed to prejudices on the matter of birth, and still less to those which had to do with politics or conventional morality.”

Lord Ronald Sutherland Gower has made this very interesting comparison of Romney and Reynolds:

“The mighty events which were in progress around him—the war with the American Colonies, and the supervening naval war with France and Spain—ran their course without personally affecting him, whereas Reynolds was in constant touch with the men who were most vigorously opposing Lord North’s policy, with Burke and Charles[342] Fox; and it was his own intimate friend of nearly thirty years standing, Admiral Keppel, whose trial in this very year 1778, formed the central battle-ground between the Court and the popular party. In all these things Reynolds was intimately concerned, as he was in the lighter events of social life, with his constant dinner-parties at Leicester Fields, his still more constant attendance at the tables of the great and the assemblies of Mrs. Montagu and Mrs. Ord, his outings to Streatham, and his mild flirtation with ‘Little Burney.’ But Romney lived remote, as remote in his shyness and isolation as Gainsborough lived in his fondness for a Bohemian world—the world of artists that painted and played and left war to the soldiers and politics to the politician. It is true that a couple of years afterwards politics were brought pretty closely home to both of them, as they were, nolentibus volentibus, to all the householders in London. The Keppel riots in 1778, celebrating the acquittal of the popular Admiral, were festive and pleasant enough; noblemen and gentlemen went out with the crowd; young Pitt, it is said, helped to break Lord North’s windows; and young Rogers, the banker-poet, to unhinge the gates of the Admiralty. This was very well and very pleasant; but two years later the mob improved upon their lesson, and in the Lord George Gordon Riots London was ablaze.”

#### THE STRAWBERRY GIRL.

Sir Joshua Reynolds | Collection of
(1723–1792). | Mrs. Francis F. Prentiss.

James Northcote in his Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds notes: “The picture of a little Strawberry Girl was painted about this time (1775?) and he considered it one of his best works, observing that no man ever could produce more than about half a dozen really original works in his life; “and this picture,” he added, “is one of mine.”

This little girl is about three years old and is shown at three-quarter length with a handkerchief folded around her head after the fashion of a turban, the curls escaping from her forehead. She wears a lightcolored[344][343] dress with a pinafore caught over her arm. At her neck is a ribbon bow. Her hands are demurely folded at the waist and over her right arm hangs a cone-shaped strawberry “pottle.” The background is composed of large rocks and trees at the right.

Collection of Mrs. Francis F. Prentiss

THE STRAWBERRY GIRL

—Sir Joshua Reynolds

The picture is painted in oils on canvas (29 × 24 inches) and is a replica of the original in the Wallace Collection, London.

Leslie and Taylor voiced so well the impression that every one has when looking at this fascinating work that what they said bears quoting:

“The Strawberry Girl with her pottle on her arm, creeping timidly along and glancing round her with large, black eyes, might be Little Red Riding Hood hearing the first rustle of the wolf in the wayside bushes, could we substitute a red hood for the odd turban-like head-dress with which the painter has crowned his little maiden, and which even Sir Joshua’s taste can barely make becoming, and hang on her arm the basket of butter and eggs for her sick grandmother instead of the strawberry pottle which gives her a name.”

The model for The Strawberry Girl was Miss Theophila Palmer, Sir Joshua’s favorite niece, who lived with him and looked after him until her marriage. Her name Theophila was divided into two pet names. “The” and “Offie,” upon which Sir Joshua once wrote a playful-verse:

When I’m drinking my tea, I am thinking of The,
When I’m drinking my coffee, I’m thinking of Offie,
So, whether I’m drinking my tea or my coffee,
I always am thinking of thee, my The-Offie.

In the Farington Diary (Vol. IV), by Joseph Farington (London, 1924), we also learn that Miss Theophila Palmer was the “My dear Offy” of Sir Joshua’s letter, dated Jan. 30, 1781, in which he wished that she and Mr. Robert Lovell Gwatkin of Kellrow, Truro, Cornwall, her future husband, “may be as happy as both deserve—and you will be the happiest couple in England. So God Bless you!”

Fanny Burney, in a description of a reception at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s house in Leicester Square, refers to young Gwatkin, the Cornish Squire, “making sheep’s eyes at Offy, whose uncle, Sir Joshua[346] was very fond of her.” “I never was,” he wrote to Offy, “a great friend to the efficacy of precept, nor a great professor of love and affection, and, therefore, I have never told you how much I loved you for fear you should grow saucy upon it.”

The well-known picture of Simplicity is of Theophila Gwatkin, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Robert L. Gwatkin and this little girl was also known affectionately as The.

#### DIANA, VISCOUNTESS CROSBIE.

Sir Joshua Reynolds | Collection of the late
(1723–1792). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

Sir Joshua Reynolds pronounced the Strawberry Girl one of his most original creations. The portrait of Diana Lady Crosbie certainly ranks as another. All critics are united in considering it one of the finest productions of the master’s brush. Who but Sir Joshua would ever have thought of such a pose?

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

DIANA, VISCOUNTESS CROSBIE

—Sir Joshua Reynolds

The Honorable Miss Diana Sackville, daughter of Lord George Sackville, aged twenty-one, was engaged to be married to Viscount Crosbie (son and heir of the first Earl of Glandore) and was visiting his seat, Ardfert Abbey, Kerry, Ireland. Lord Crosbie sent for Sir Joshua Reynolds to come and paint the portrait of Lady Diana; and the story goes that soon after arriving Sir Joshua caught sight of Lady Diana running across the lawn. He was so fascinated by her lightness and grace that he begged permission to paint her as he had first seen her.

Consequently, we have Lady Diana surprised in the act, as it were, of tripping over the park, holding up her dress with her right hand and extending her left in graceful attitude. The dress is white silk, bound at the waist by a gold sash, and beneath the folds of the dress, so exquisitely painted, the tip of a small slipper is seen. The picture was painted in September, 1777, and two months later Lady Diana was married to Lord Crosbie. In 1781, when her husband succeeded to the title, Lady Crosbie became, of course, Countess of Glandore.[347] She died in 1814. For painting this portrait Sir Joshua received £78.15.

The picture, oils on canvas (93 × 58 inches), left the Crosbie home only within recent years to occupy a place of honor in Sir Charles Tennant’s drawing-room in London. From the Tennant Collection it went directly to California. The picture has been engraved several times and the best known engravings are by W. Dickinson (1779); James Scott (1863); and R. S. Clouston (1890); and “proofs before letters” of these plates bring very high prices in the auction-rooms.

“Here is a miracle of vivacity,” says Spielmann, “so natural, so alive, that you almost forget that you are in front of a picture as you look at this lady who moves across the canvas with outstretched hand to greet you as you approach. Rarely have animation and movement been so completely realized on canvas. The design is finely sustained by the mellow, golden tone of the white dress and the telling note of the golden scarf, all seen against a convincing landscape that seems entirely novel in Reynolds’s open-air portraits.”

#### MRS. SIDDONS AS THE TRAGIC MUSE.

Sir Joshua Reynolds | Collection of the late
(1723–1792). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

This gorgeous portrait, oils on canvas (93 × 56 inches), was painted in 1785, when the famous actress was twenty-eight, in the full bloom of her beauty and fruition of her talents; and it is rightly described by Mrs. Jameson as “the apotheosis of her genius and beauty.” It is painted in the “grand style” with rich coloring of amber and purple, the Tragic Muse seated on a throne among the clouds with her head lifted as if listening to some inspiring voices and her hand raised as if to command silence. A coronet of pearls adorns her hair, and heavy ropes of pearls are wound around her neck and are knotted loosely in front. Over her lap is thrown a drapery, on the hem of which Sir Joshua painted his name.

[348]

The poetic and dramatic conception of the picture show how much Sir Joshua admired Michelangelo’s Prophets and Sibyls in the Sistine Chapel.

In this magnificent work Sir Joshua certainly realized his theories regarding the “grand style” as expressed in his Fourth Discourse to his pupils: “To give a general air of grandeur at first view all trifling or artificial play of little lights, or an attention to a variety of tints, is to be avoided; a quietness and simplicity must reign over the whole work; to which a breadth of uniform and simple color will very much contribute.”

In the theatrical annals of England the Kemble family rank with the later Trees and Terrys; and Mrs. Siddons was a Kemble. Sarah Siddons, the eldest daughter of Roger Kemble, actor and theatrical manager, was born in 1755 in Brecon, Wales, where her father was managing a troupe of players. She was the sister of Charles Kemble, the famous comedian and manager of the Covent Garden Theatre, and aunt of Fanny Kemble, the noted actress. At an early age, Sarah played small parts in her father’s company and when she was eighteen was married to a young actor named Siddons, also in the Kemble company. Soon afterward Mr. and Mrs. Siddons appeared in The Clandestine Marriage in the provinces. Sarah Siddons soon attracted Garrick’s attention and he gave her an engagement at Drury Lane; but she was not a success. She then went to Bath, where she became a favorite and established her reputation. In 1783 she reappeared at Drury Lane and this time she took London by storm. Then she went to Dublin, where more triumphs added to her confidence as well as to her fame; and, when she returned to London, it was to Covent Garden, where her brother, John Philip Kemble, was manager. Mrs. Siddons shone especially in tragedy and achieved, perhaps, her greatest success as Lady Macbeth. When Byron saw her in this rôle he wrote: “It was something transcending nature; one would say that a being of a superior order had descended from a high sphere to inspire fear and admiration at the same time.”

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

MRS. SIDDONS AS THE TRAGIC MUSE

—Sir Joshua Reynolds

Mrs. Siddons’s great parts were Lady Macbeth, Portia, Constance, Isabella, Jane Shore, Almeira, Lady Ann, Calista, Belvedera, and[350] Mrs. Beverly. In 1812 she retired from the stage with a large fortune and died in 1831. Thomas Campbell wrote her life in 1834.

All the portrait-painters of the day had Mrs. Siddons sit to them. The most famous pictures, however, were Reynolds’s Tragic Muse; Gainsborough’s beautiful one in an afternoon costume of light blue, striped silk, black hat, yellow scarf and muff, in the National Gallery, London; and two by Lawrence, also in the National Gallery, London.

“It was probably after his return from his tour of the Low Countries that Mrs. Siddons, now in the very flush of her popularity, sat to him. She had not yet acted in Shakespeare, unless her first appearance as Isabella (Measure for Measure) and as Constance (King John) with her brother, John Kemble (for whom her success had procured a leading engagement at Drury Lane), preceded her first sittings, which is possible, though not probable. Her fame has been won in such parts as Isabella (in The Mourning Bride), Euphrasia (in The Grecian Daughter), Jane Shore, Calista, Belvedera, Zara, and Mrs. Beverly. The Royal Family, little as they loved tragedy, had already distinguished her by every mark of favor. Her house was besieged by the noble and fashionable. The managers of Drury Lane had gladly supplemented her modest salary of ten pounds a week by a double benefit; and in June she had left London—after a series of successes which almost eclipsed the still recent fame of Garrick—for Ireland and a short round of provincial performances. Mr. Russell, author of the History of Modern Europe, had sung her praises under the title of The Tragic Muse, before she left London. His verses are forgotten, but they may have suggested to Reynolds the subject of his picture. It could not have been prompted, as Boaden imagines, by an allusion in the epilogue to Tancred and Sigismunda, as her first appearance in that tragedy was on the 24th of April, 1784, when the picture was already in its place on the walls of the Exhibition-Room. The conception of this noble work was no doubt suggested by Michelangelo’s Isaiah. Mrs. Siddons told Mr. Phillips that it was the production of pure accident. Sir Joshua had begun the head and figure in a different view; but while he was occupied in the preparation of some color she changed her position to look at a picture hanging on the wall of[351] the room. When he again looked at her and saw the action she had assumed, he requested her not to move; and thus arose the beautiful and expressive figure we now see in the picture.”[24]

Yet there is still another story, which is told by Mrs. Jameson. Mrs. Siddons used to describe Sir Joshua as taking her by the hand and leading her up to his platform with the words: “Ascend your undisputed throne; bestow on me some idea of the Tragic Muse.” On which, Mrs. Siddons said: “I walked up the steps and instantly seated myself in the attitude in which the Tragic Muse now appears.” It is most likely that both stories are true. Sir Joshua’s leading the Queen of the London Stage to her throne on his painting-platform with his courtly compliment was thoroughly in character and that he also encouraged The Tragic Muse to act her part and create expression as well as take a dramatic pose, is also most in keeping with the exciting moment. Sir Joshua undoubtedly foresaw that he had the opportunity of producing his greatest masterpiece.

Mrs. Siddons also related that when Sir Joshua was putting the last touches to the work he said: “I cannot resist the opportunity for going down to posterity on the edge of your garment,” upon which he painted his name and the date 1784 on the hem of the robe.

However, Sir Joshua had already done this ten years before in the portrait of Lady Cockburn and her Children, in the National Gallery, London, where the name and date make a decorative finish to Lady Cockburn’s amber-colored robe trimmed with white fur thrown across her lap and that famous picture was begun in 1773 and finished in 1775.

The Tragic Muse was greatly admired when it first appeared. The Public Advertiser, April 28, 1784, said:

“It is impossible to be too lavish in its praise; it is, indeed, a most sublime and masterly performance and undoubtedly one of the very best that ever was produced by Sir Joshua. He seems to have conceived and executed it with enthusiasm. Mrs. Siddons is drawn in the character of The Tragic Muse, the composition is in a grand style, the figure possesses great dignity, and that fine expression of countenance for which the original is preëminent and almost unrivalled. Sir[352] Joshua has been said to paint the mind; and perhaps there never was a more striking instance of it than in this performance. The accompanying genii ready to administer the dagger or the bowl have also great expression, and in the effect of the tout ensemble there is a grandeur and a solemnity suited to the subject and highly worthy of universal admiration.”

It is illuminating, too, to dip into the Farington Diary (London, 1925), and note in 1801:

“Opie thinks the Mrs. Siddons by Sir Joshua the finest picture he knows. Opie thinks the picture of Mrs. Siddons much superior to any of the Titians which were brought by Day from Rome.

“Bourgeois mentioned that Sir Joshua had said the principle to work upon is to fix a high light and a lowest depth to which all other lights and dark parts should be subordinate.”

In 1808 we read:

“Lawrence spoke with the highest admiration of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s portrait of Lord Heathfield now at the European Museum, having been sent there by Boydell to be sold for 350 guineas. He said this picture and the portrait of Mrs. Siddons by Sir Joshua are the top of his Art.” And again in the same year: “We looked at the picture of Mrs. Siddons by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Lawrence said, it was his best picture. I said, it was a high refinement of Rembrandt. Mr. Smith[25] said he gave £320 for it, which was not half what Calonne paid. It cost the latter £800.”

[353]

On the authority of Lord Ronald Sutherland Gower in Sir Joshua Reynolds (London, 1902), we learn:

“There is another version of The Tragic Muse in the Dulwich Gallery. This was sold by Reynolds to M. Desenfans for seven hundred guineas in 1790 and the date on the hem of her garment is 1789, from which it appears that he completed this five years after the Grosvenor House picture. Both of these may be regarded as the authentic work of the master. There is a replica also of The Tragic Muse at Langley Park, near Stowe, which is said to have been given by Reynolds to Mr. Harvey in exchange for a painting by Snyders of a Boar Hunt; and another was in the possession of Mrs. Combe in Edinburgh. I think there is no doubt that these replicas are by the hands of Reynolds’s assistants.”

Mrs. Siddons in the Dulwich Gallery (canvas 93 × 57 inches) described as follows:

“She sits on a throne in front view and looks up towards the right; the right arm and the left elbow rest on the throne; with the hand raised as if listening to some inspiring voice; a coronet on the back of her hair; wearing an amber brown dress, with rows of pearls round her neck; across her lap is a robe, on the hem of which Sir Joshua has inscribed his name. Paid for, February 1790, Mrs. Siddons, sold to Mr. Desenfans £735.”

The picture was purchased from Sir Joshua in 1790 by Noel Desenfans and by him bequeathed to Sir Francis Bourgeois, R. A., by whom it was left to Dulwich College. It hangs in the picture gallery there. It is interesting to note that the date on the hem of the robe is 1789—five years after the Duke of Westminster’s picture! Some critics think that Sir Joshua also painted this replica himself.

Leslie and Taylor mention in their Life of Reynolds that they failed to find any note relative to Score’s making a copy of The Tragic Muse; but they draw attention, on the contrary, to the following extract from Northcote’s Life of Reynolds:

“The picture of a little Strawberry Girl with a kind of turban on her head was painted about this time (1772) and he considered it one of his best works, observing that no man ever could produce more[354] than about half a dozen really original works in his life; ‘and this picture,’ he added, ‘is one of them.’ The picture was exhibited (1773) and repeated several times; not so much for the sake of profit as for that of improvement, for he always advised as a good mode of study, that a painter should have two pictures in hand of precisely the same subject and design and should work on them alternately; by which means, if chance produced a lucky hit, as it often does, then instead of working on the same piece, and by that means destroy that beauty which chance had given, he should go to the other and improve upon that. Then return again to the first picture, which he might work upon without any fear of obliterating the excellence which chance had given it, having transposed it to the other. Thus his desire of excellence enabled him to combat with every sort of difficulty or labor.

“The compilers’ theory, then, is: after the sketch of Mrs. Siddons’s portrait was laid in, he took up a fresh canvas, made a replica and worked on both alternately until ‘the lucky hit’ was produced and that appeared to Sir Joshua in the picture finished and exhibited in the Royal Academy, 1784. Notwithstanding the glowing eulogiums passed upon it, a purchaser was not found for it until 1788, when it was sold to M. de Calonne. Sir Joshua did not record the sale in his ledger, or note-book, and it only transpired when Skinner and Dyke sold at their rooms, Spring Gardens, 1795, the English pictures of the Calonne Collection and specified in the Catalogue that M. de Calonne paid Sir Joshua 800 guineas for the portrait of Mrs. Siddons in the character of the Tragic Muse.

“At this time M. Desenfans was Consul-general in Great Britain for the Kingdom of Poland, a writer of marked ability, a recognized authority on art, an extensive picture-dealer, employed by the King of Poland to purchase high-class Old Masters to complete his Collection and who kept up an acquaintance with Sir Joshua, notwithstanding the trick he played of selling him, through Cribb, his frame-maker, the copy of a Claude, specially made by Marchi for the purpose as an original. The compiler’s surmise is, then, that he knew Sir Joshua had the unfinished replica on hand, and came to an understanding with him to complete it in its present form, ‘signed and dated 1789[356] on the edge of the robe.’ This investigation leads to three inferences; first, that Sir Joshua would not condescend, for any consideration, to sign and date a copy of The Tragic Muse made by Score; secondly, that an astute man of business, such as Desanfans was, would not give £735 for a copy; thirdly, that The Dulwich picture must now be regarded in the same light as the Westminster one—both from the hand of Reynolds; but which was first commenced cannot be ascertained.”

#### GEORGIANA, DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

Sir Joshua Reynolds | Collection of the late
(1723–1792). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

It is interesting to compare this picture by Sir Joshua with Gainsborough’s Duchess of Devonshire (see page 373), which is probably the earlier of the two. This picture, oils on canvas (94 × 57 inches), was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1776 as No. 233. The Duchess had not long been married when this picture was painted, as her marriage took place in 1774. There is something in the pose that suggests the portrait of Diana, Lady Crosbie, which was painted later. The Duchess is represented full-length facing the left, in the act of descending a flight of stone steps, her right hand placed on the balustrade and her left holding her dress very gracefully. The dress is cream-colored cut low in the neck and fashioned with full sleeves. The skirt is gracefully cut and abounds in plaits and draperies. A gauzy scarf is wound around her right arm and floats below. The hair is dressed very fashionably with a long and round curl pinned tightly at the back of the neck and reaching the shoulder, and above the braid which forms a coronal the hair mounts higher and is ornamented by pearls and grey and red feathers. Vines are growing gracefully around the balustrade, beyond which and through the near-by trees we see an open vista of the park with a statue at the left. Presumably this is Chatsworth, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

GEORGIANA, DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE

—Sir Joshua Reynolds

The picture was in the Collection of Earl Spencer, K. G., at Althorp, Nottinghamshire, before it was taken to California.

[357]

#### THE COTTAGE DOOR.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of the late
(1727–1788). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

The little group is assembled in front of a thatched cottage, beside which a gnarled and withered tree rises scarred and seared by the storms of many years. Overhanging the roof a large tree droops its feathery Gainsborough foliage and, on the left, half of another feathery Gainsborough tree is waving in the summer breeze. By this tree, and farther back as well, a stream is seen falling in a little cascade beneath a rustic bridge. Luxuriant weeds grow in the foreground and by the side of the cottage, the door of which is open and beside which a peasant’s family is grouped. The mother, in yellowish brown skirt and white bodice, has a suggestion (save for the costume) of the beautiful ladies that sat to Gainsborough. In her arms is a baby. On her right, is a little boy, scantily dressed, who is eating something; in front of her are two children, one holding a bowl and the other dipping from it with a spoon; a fifth child, with one hand on his head and the finger of his left hand in his mouth, looks forward shyly; and the sixth is seated on the ground by his side. “Old pimply-nosed Rembrandt,” as Gainsborough called him, never lighted a scene more beautifully, nor more marvellously than this.

The picture, oils on canvas (57 × 46 inches), is one of Gainsborough’s most mature works and dates from about 1776–1778.

Bought by T. Harvey of Catton, Norfolk, in 1786, it passed to Mr. Coppin of Norwich in 1807. Then it became the property of Sir John Leicester, Bart., created Lord de Tabley in 1826; and at the Sale of the effects of the latter it was bought by Earl Grosvenor, created Marquess of Westminster in 1831. In 1921 The Cottage Door was sold by the second Duke of Westminster to Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

“There is no painter of English birth more widely appreciated than Gainsborough whose art touches every observer, great and simple, learned and unlearned. As we look at his pictures, said Constable, we find tears in our eyes and know not what brings them. A thread of[358] romance runs through the whole of Gainsborough’s career, from his marriage to a beautiful and well-dowered bride, whose origin is shrouded in mystery, down to the pathetic termination of the long years of jealous rivalry with Reynolds. And romance and mystery are inseparably connected with his pictures—with the portraits of that Duchess of Devonshire, whom tradition has brought us to regard as typical of English beauty, with that masterpiece at Edinburgh, the portrait of Mrs. Graham, hidden from sight for fifty years on account of one of the tenderest of love stories; and with the famous Blue Boy, the secret of whose history still remains undiscovered.”[26]

“Old pimply-nosed Rembrandt and myself were both born in a mill,” Gainsborough used to say, because his father, John Gainsborough, was a manufacturer of woollens in Sudbury. Thomas was born there in 1727. At twelve he was said to be a “confirmed painter.” His first portrait seems to have been a great success. Some one had been stealing pears from the Gainsborough orchard and one day, when young Thomas was sketching there he saw a man’s face peering over the fence. Instantly he made a quick sketch and took it into the house. By means of this sketch the culprit was identified. Gainsborough then enlarged the sketch, painted an oil portrait, mounted it on a board, and stuck “Tom Peartree” up to the delight of all the neighbors and confusion of strangers. This picture was lent to the Gainsborough Exhibition held at the Grosvenor Gallery in 1885 and is now in the Elizabethan Mansion in Christchurch Park, Ipswich.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

THE COTTAGE DOOR

—Thomas Gainsborough

In 1741 Gainsborough went to London and, after studying under Hubert Gravelot and Francis Hayman, took a studio in Hatton Garden and tried to start as a portrait and landscape-painter. A year of failure decided the young artist to return home. In a short time he married Margaret Burr (supposed to be a natural daughter of the Duke of Bedford) and removed to Ipswich. Here he painted chiefly landscapes. About 1760 he settled in Bath and immediately became the fashion. Fourteen years later Gainsborough removed to London, where his success continued and he became the rival of Reynolds. Gainsborough had already in 1768 been nominated by George III[360] one of the thirty-six Academicians on the foundation of the Academy and he exhibited almost yearly at the Royal Academy from 1769 to 1788, when there was a misunderstanding about the hanging of his pictures. Gainsborough died in 1788, closing one of the most remarkable careers in art, for this great painter was almost entirely self-taught. Reynolds called attention to this remarkable fact in his Fourteenth Discourse, in which he cites Gainsborough as an example of an artist who has arrived “at great fame without the assistance of an academical education, or any of those preparatory studies which have so often been recommended.”

Yet his genius was such that he attained the greatest eminence in his day and his place in art to-day is in the small circle of the very great ones.

Ruskin did not exaggerate in the least when he wrote: “Gainsborough’s power of color is capable of taking rank beside that of Rubens; he is the purest colorist of the English School; with him, in fact, the art of painting did in great part die and exists not now in Europe. In management and quality of single and particular tint, in the purely technical part of painting, Turner is a child to Gainsborough. His hand is as light as the sweep of a cloud, as swift as the flash of a sunbeam. He never loses sight of his picture as a whole. In a word Gainsborough is an immortal painter.”

Gainsborough painted about seven hundred portraits and two hundred landscapes. Strange as it may seem, he preferred to paint landscapes. At least he told George III this. And he told his friend Jackson in a letter “I’m sick of Portraits and wish very much to take my viol-da-gamba and walk off to some sweet village where I can paint landskips and enjoy the fag-end of life in quietness and ease.”

This seems strange coming from one of the greatest of all portrait-painters.

To read the list of Gainsborough’s portraits is to run through the Social Register of London and Bath. Gainsborough painted “everybody that was anybody.” The great personalities of the day wanted their portraits “limned” by both Reynolds and Gainsborough, often[361] adding Romney and Hoppner as well. The fourteen years that he lived in Bath Gainsborough’s painting-room was almost as much of a rendez-vous as the Pump Room and his sitters ranged from the most aristocratic and wealthy, such as Earl Spencer, his wife, and little daughter, the future Duchess of Devonshire, to statesmen, like Pitt, and actors like Garrick and Quin. The latter sat three times to Gainsborough. The following little piece of amusing acting usually took place. Quin, suffering from gout, would hobble to the painting-room and tapping at the door would ask “Is Old Grumpus in?” Gainsborough would reply “Come in”; and, placing a chair for his friend and a stool to rest his foot upon, would put on a grave, doctorial look and, resting his chin on his maul-stick, would inquire in the Bath phrase: “Well, how is toe?”

Quin evidently was a critic: “Sometimes, Tom Gainsborough,” he said, “a picture in your rigmarole style appears to my optics the veriest daub,—then, the devil’s in you, I think you a Van Dyck!” And Gainsborough would tell Quin that “nothing could equal the devilism of portrait-painting.”

“Indeed, he told me,” Angelo relates, “at his house in Pall Mall, that he was sure the perplexities of rendering something like a human resemblance from human blocks was a trial of patience that would have tempted holy St. Anthony to cut his own throat with his palette-knife.”

Gainsborough was devoted to music, played several instruments and was a great friend of the oboe-player in the Queen’s Band, John Christian Fischer, who married his daughter Margaret; of John Christian Bach, son of the great John Sebastian Bach; and of Bach’s associate, Charles Frederick Abel, the celebrated virtuoso on the viol-da-gamba, whose portrait Gainsborough painted with his instrument by his side, and which is now in the Huntington Gallery.

Gainsborough’s portrait by Zoffany in the National Portrait Gallery, London, presents a handsome and rather dashing man of about thirty-five with classic features and large, fine eyes with penetrating glance and an intelligent, interior light. Had he not been a painter he might have easily become a beau, or a gallant officer of the Major[362] André type, or of that impudent young dog, Jack Absolute, who captivated Miss Lydia Languish in The Rivals.

It was the same in London as it had been in Bath. Gainsborough became the fashion. He barely had time to fill all the orders that came thick and fast and he enjoyed society and still more his cronies, and, to judge from numerous anecdotes, was not averse to wild companions; but for all that he was generous, sympathetic, outgoing, and much beloved by his friends.

As an instance of his ready wit on one occasion, when he was in court regarding a picture the councillor tried to embarrass him. “I observe,” he said, “you lay great stress on a painter’s eye. What do you mean by that expression!” “A painter’s eye,” replied Gainsborough, without a moment’s hesitation, “is to him what a lawyer’s tongue is to you!”

Gainsborough was sprightly, humorous, and lively in conversation and indeed, in society, to use the word of the period, something of a “rattle.”

Whenever he appeared, either at a morning lounge at Christie’s amidst the enlightened and polite, or at My Lady’s midnight rout surrounded by bowing beaux and curtseying belles, his gaiety enlivened every group. He knew everybody and everybody knew him; he was, however, most at home with the worthies of the auction-room. For some years Garrick was frequently his companion at Christie’s, where the amusement caused by the humor common to both never failed to give an additional zest to the proceedings. Mr. Christie often declared that “the presence of this choice pair added fifteen per cent to his commission on a sale.”

And this was a “choice pair,”—Garrick and Gainsborough!

“We know as little about Gainsborough’s tools and methods of painting as we do of his pigments, but if his daughter’s memory may be trusted, her father worked with paint so thin and liquid that his palette ran over unless he kept it on the level. It is generally agreed that he used very long brushes, and Nollekens Smith who saw him at work, says: ‘I was much surprised to see him sometimes paint portraits with pencils on sticks full six feet in length and his method of[363] using them was this: he placed himself and his canvas at a right angle to the sitter, so that he stood still and touched the features of his pictures exactly at the same distance at which he viewed the sitter.’ The anonymous biographer of the Morning Chronicle who knew the painter excuses his supposed want of finish by saying that he worked with a very long and broad brush. Another contemporary, John Williams (Pasquin), in a biographical note declares that Gainsborough always prided himself upon using longer and broader tools than other men and upon standing farther away from his canvas when at work. That he always stood to paint we know from Thicknesse, but it is obvious that all his work could not have been done with broad tools of hog-hair. Probably he used camel-hair brushes sometimes, as did Gainsborough Dupont, who inherited his uncle’s implements and colors and in painting followed his manner exactly. Dupont left behind him, in addition to a great quantity of hogtools, ‘twelve bundles of camel’s hair pencils.’ Fulcher says that when Gainsborough’s sitters left him it was his custom to close the shutter, in which was a small circular aperture, the only access for light and by this subdued illumination work on his picture and get rid of superfluous detail. No authority is given for this statement, but there can be little doubt that Gainsborough loved to subdue the light in his painting-room. Williams says that it was sometimes subdued to such an extent that objects were barely visible.”[27]

And Osias Humphrey, R. A., tells us a little more, drawing from his memories of Bath,... “Exact resemblances in his portraits was Mr. Gainsborough’s constant aim, to which he invariably adhered. These pictures, as well as his landscapes, were frequently wrought by candle-light and generally with great force and likeness. But his painting-room—even by day a kind of darkened twilight—had scarcely any light and I have seen him, whilst his subjects have been sitting to him when neither they nor the pictures were scarcely discernible.” We also learn that Gainsborough let in more light when the picture reached its finishing stages.

[364]

#### THE MALL IN ST. JAMES’S PARK.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of the late
(1727–1788). | Mr. Henry Clay Frick.

Horace Walpole characterized this delightful picture as airier than a Watteau and “all in motion and flutter like a lady’s fan.” It is one of Gainsborough’s latest works, painted in 1786, and one of his masterpieces, oils on canvas (57¾ × 47½ inches). The picture was among those in the painter’s studio at the time of his death. After a few changes of ownership, it passed into the Collection of George Frost, an artist and fellow-townsman of Gainsborough, and then to Sir Audley Dallas Neeld, Bart., Grittleton House, near Chippenham, Wiltshire.

The Mall is a perfect epitome of London society in the Eighteenth Century—the London of Austin Dobson.

“The Mall from the days of the Stuarts until the closing years of the Eighteenth Century was the field upon which fashion, and feminine fashion especially, chose to disport itself. Twice a day social London donned its best apparel and took a turn under the trees, once at midday and again, in summer, in its evening clothes after the early dinner. Here fashion met its friends, exchanged its repartees, made appointments for evening rendez-vous at Ranelagh or Vauxhall, ate fruit or bought flowers from Betty’s girl out of St. James’s Street, or drank syllabubs from the red cow’s milk which was one of the attractions of the London parks. Nothing in the external aspect of London more struck the intelligent foreigner than the amenities of the promenade in the Mall. One of these gentlemen concluded an eloquent pæan on the beauty of the lady promenaders, by recording with rapture that of a morning the very ground glistened with the pins which they had dropped. The Mall, indeed, was the very shrine of flounce and furbelow until somewhere about 1795, when fashion unaccountably moved northward to the walk in the Green Park at the back of Arlington Street, and from there later to Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens.

[365]

Collection of the Mr. Henry Clay Frick

THE MALL

—Thomas Gainsborough

[366]

“The very spirit of this life is preserved in Gainsborough’s picture, one of the few canvases in which he represents figures in motion; singular also among his work is that it contains a score or so of figures. There is a central group of four ladies with an attendant cavalier advancing towards the spectator, a pair on the right, two pairs on the left passing each other, others again seated on the right. The accidental episodic quality of such a subject is perfectly conveyed—the transient glance of a passing woman, the turn of the neck appropriate to that attitude, the ground dotted with an occasional dog. Technically it represents Gainsborough at his highest, where the solemn tones of his earlier manner have disappeared, and the very painting itself seems to echo his delight in the mastery of heightened, luminous color.”[28]

#### MARIA WALPOLE, DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of
(1727–1788). | Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft.

The subject of this portrait was famous under three names: her maiden name of Maria Walpole; as Lady Waldegrave; and as the Duchess of Gloucester. She was very beautiful (no one could compete with her but the Gunning sisters); she was very witty and brilliant; and, moreover, she was noted for her rich qualities of heart and character. Her uncle, Horace Walpole, was devoted to her.

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft

MARIA WALPOLE, DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER

—Thomas Gainsborough

Maria Walpole began life under a cloud, but this was soon dispelled and the rest was all sunshine. The Hon. Edward Walpole, second son of Sir Robert, was her father and her mother was a milliner’s apprentice at Bath. Maria was baptized July 10, 1738, at St. James’s, Westminster, and was made legitimate by His Majesty’s warrant. Recognized as a Walpole, everything was done for her. The old London Town and Country Magazine gives us this very good idea of her preparation for life: “Maria’s education was suited to the rank of life in which she has ever figured; and the advantages she[368] derived from it were entirely noticed by every man of taste and discernment who was happy enough to be in her company.”

Horace Walpole brought about her first marriage to the Right Honorable James, Second Earl of Waldegrave, K. G., in 1759; and he wrote to Sir Horace Mann:

“I have married, that is, I am marrying my niece, Maria, my brother’s second daughter, to Lord Waldegrave. What say you? A month ago I was told he liked her—does he? I jumbled them together and he has already proposed. For character and credit he is the first match in England—for beauty I think she is. She has not a fault in her face and person and the detail is charming. A warm complexion tending to brown, fine eyes, brown hair, fine teeth, and infinite wit and variety.”

In another letter Sir Horace wrote: “The second daughter of my brother is beauty itself. Her face, bloom, eyes, hair, teeth, and person all are perfect. You may imagine how charming she is when her only fault, if one must find one, is that her face is rather too round. She has a great deal of wit and vivacity with perfect modesty.”

To George Montagu on May 16, he wrote:

“Well! Maria was married yesterday. Don’t we manage well? The original day was not once put off; lawyers and milliners were all ready canonically. It was as sensible a wedding as ever was. There was neither form nor indecency, both which generally meet on such occasions. They were married at my brother’s in Pall Mall just before dinner by Mr. Keppel;[29] the company, my brother, his son, Mrs. Keppel and Charlotte,[30] Lady Elizabeth Keppel, Lady Betty Waldegrave and I. We dined there. The Earl and new Countess got into the post-chaise at eight o’clock and went to Navestock (Lord Waldegrave’s seat near Brentwood, Essex) alone, where they stay till Saturday night; on Sunday she is to be presented. Maria was in a white and silver nightgown[31] with a hat very much pulled over her face;[369] what one could see of it was handsomer than ever; a cold maiden blush gave her the sweetest delicacy in the world.”

Maria was a friend of the Countess of Coventry, who had attained fame as the beautiful Maria Gunning and used to walk with her in the Park and they must have been a very striking pair, for after the Countess of Coventry’s death, Lady Waldegrave was considered the handsomest woman in England. A month after Maria’s marriage Sir Horace noted in a letter: “My Lady Coventry and my niece Walpole have been mobbed in the park.”

There were three daughters of this marriage—Laura, Maria, and Horatia—remembered to-day especially for the group portrait Sir Joshua Reynolds painted of them and which belonged to Sir Horace Walpole in 1782.

Lord Waldegrave died in 1763; and on Sept 6, 1766, Maria, now Dowager Countess of Waldegrave, was married privately to H. R. H. William Henry, Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh, seven years her junior. The marriage was performed in her own house in Pall Mall by her own chaplain and she thus became the sister-in-law of George III. The secret was kept for some time and the King banished his brother from Court, but after two years the Duke was taken back into Royal favor and the Duchess bore her honors with such grace and dignity that she became very popular at Court.

The portrait represented here, oils on canvas (35½ × 27½ inches), was painted about 1779, or before.

“We hear,” the Public Advertiser printed on May 4, 1772, “that the gentlemen upon the Committee for managing the Royal Academy have been guilty of a scandalous meanness to a capital artist by secreting a whole-length picture of an English Countess for fear their Majesties should see it; and this only upon a full conviction that it was the best finished picture sent in this year to the Exhibition.” Again in 1775 a society reporter for the Morning Chronicle gathered up this piece of gossip: “The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester are often going to a famous painter’s in Pall Mall; and it is reported that he is now doing both their pictures, which are intended to be presented to a great lady.”

[370]

The picture is nearly three-quarter length and represents the Duchess in a gold-tinted dress with hair dressed high and powdered and wearing lovely pearls. Her head is posed upon her left hand and the arm rests upon a pedestal that is barely visible. There is good reason for thinking this portrait was originally full-length and that it has been cut down. It is interesting to compare this portrait of the Duchess of Gloucester with The Hon. Mrs. Graham in the National Gallery, Edinburgh, who is painted, full length, and is resting her arm, likewise, on a pedestal.

“The introduction of a parapet, or indeed, of any kind of architectural setting in a portrait of kit-cat size is most unusual. The left arm resting on the parapet and the large scale on which the head is here painted, confirm our view that our canvas was originally, as Fulcher claims, a whole length. This canvas to-day is almost exactly kit-cat size. It may well have been cut down to meet the requirements of hanging. Half a century ago such a practice was not unknown, especially in the English Royal Collections. It will be remembered that the lower portions of the canvas of Gainsborough’s Eldest Princesses was very inceremoniously cut away in the early part of the Nineteenth Century.

“A kit-cat, strictly speaking, is a canvas for a portrait less than a half-length, but including the hands, and measuring 36 by 28 inches. It is so called from the portraits of the members of the Club at Barn Elms, who seem to have originally met in the pie-house kept in Shire Lane, London, by one Kit (i.e. Christopher) Cat. These portraits are now in the Baker Collection at Bayfordbury, near Hertford.”[32]

In June 1904 The London Times stated that “The Duke of Cambridge’s pictures, which are now hung on Christie’s walls, form the largest collection of portraits of the reigning house that has ever been offered for sale. All, in fact, represent George III and his family, with their husbands and wives. By far the finest is Gainsborough’s Maria Walpole, Countess of Waldegrave and Duchess of Gloucester, Horace Walpole’s beautiful niece.”

These art-treasures, as well as Gloucester House, had been inherited[371] by the Late Duke of Cambridge from his aunt, the second and last Duchess of Gloucester, who died in 1857.

The sale of this picture created a sensation. Again referring to the London Times (June 13, 1904), we read: “The honors of the day distinctly fell to Gainsborough, whose beautiful portrait of Maria Walpole has established a record price for this artist’s pictures at auction. Bidding was started on Saturday at 5000 guineas and in rather more than half a dozen bids reached 12,000 guineas, at which it was knocked down to Messrs. Agnew & Sons. The price, therefore, quite eclipses the 10,000 guineas paid in 1876 for the famous stolen Duchess of Devonshire, which remained the record price for a Gainsborough until Saturday.”

In the following November, the Majestic brought the $60,000-Gainsborough to New York.

This portrait, when exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1799, was described by Sir Horace Walpole as “very good and like.”

Maria Walpole died in 1807, two years after the Duke of Gloucester, leaving one son and two daughters. Of her other portraits Lionel Cust in The Royal Collection of Paintings, Vol. I, 1905, says:

“The beautiful Countess of Waldegrave was one of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s favorite sitters. She sat to him in 1759, after her marriage, for the full-length portrait in peeress’s robes, which belongs to the present Earl Waldegrave, and again in 1761 and 1762, for the well-known portrait in a turban and for the Madonna-like group with her child, which was bequeathed by Frances, Countess Waldegrave, to the Duc d’Aumale, and is now in the Condé Collection at Chantilly. She sat again to Reynolds in 1764, as a widow in mourning for her husband, and more than once again during her widowhood. She sat to him in October, 1767, when really Duchess of Gloucester, for a portrait to be given to her father, Sir Edward Walpole.

“After the marriage had been revealed to the world, the Duchess sat to Reynolds in 1771, for the full-length seated portrait now at Buckingham Palace. This was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1774. This portrait descended to her daughter, H. R. H. Princess Sophia Matilda of Gloucester, who at her death in November, 1844,[372] bequeathed the portrait to H. R. H. Prince Albert, the late Prince Consort.

“The Duchess of Gloucester sat for the last time to Reynolds in 1779, for a group of herself and her daughter, Princess Sophia Matilda.”

#### GEORGIANA, DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of
(1727–1788). | Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee.

She stands here—proud, elegant, disdainful, stylish, aristocratic, beautiful, and altogether charming, in her dashing, large, black hat worn at a debonnaire angle, white dress, and light petticoat and light blue sash, looking at us with the most marvellous eyes ever put upon canvas and a mouth that matches them in such naturalness that we expect the Duchess to smile at any moment. Her eyes have such fire and sparkle that they pierce right through us. It is hard to believe that we are looking upon a painted portrait—it must be the Duchess herself who gives us that alert, penetrating, fiery, and mocking glance.

This picture has had a most romantic history. It is the famous “Lost Duchess,” stolen in London, and found after twenty-five years in America.

The Duchess, in some unknown way, fell into the hands of a Mrs. Maginnis, an old schoolmistress, who had it cut down to fit the space over the chimney-piece in her sitting-room and burned up the cut-off piece. Mr. Bentley, a dealer bought the picture from Mrs. Maginnis for £56 and then sold it to Mr. Wynn Ellis, a wealthy City merchant, who sent this Portrait of a Lady to be engraved by Messrs. Henry Graves & Co. This firm, having already engraved the Clifden Duchess of Devonshire, at once identified the subject. When the Wynn Ellis Sale took place at Christie’s, June 6, 1876, this portrait created a great deal of excitement. It was catalogued as follows:

“T. Gainsborough, R. A. The Duchess of Devonshire, in a white dress and blue silk petticoat and sash, large black hat and feathers, 59½ × 45 inches.”

[373]

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Satterlee

GEORGIANA, DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE

—Thomas Gainsborough

[374]

As this portrait of the Duchess was the first “star” that ever rose in an auction-sale, it is worth while putting forward here the contemporary account of an event which has passed into history. The London Times records:

“The sale of the modern pictures belonging to the Wynn Ellis Collection on Saturday last created such a sensation as has never been experienced in the picture world of London. Throughout the week the pictures had attracted a considerable number of visitors, but on the day preceding the sale the interest came to a climax and crowds filled the rooms of Messrs. Christie, Manson, & Woods. Anyone passing the neighborhood of St. James’s Square might well have supposed that some great lady was holding a reception and this, in fact, was pretty much what was going on within the Gallery in King Street. All the world had come to see a beautiful Duchess, created by Gainsborough; and so far as we could observe, they all came, saw, and were conquered by her fascinating beauty.

“When the portrait was placed before the crowded audience a burst of applause showed the universal admiration of the picture. The biddings commenced at one of 1000 guineas, which was immediately met with one of 3000 guineas from Mr. Agnew; and, amid a silence of quite breathless attention, the bids followed in quick succession until 10,000 guineas was announced. Mr. Agnew then called 10,100 guineas and won the battle in this most extraordinary contest. The audience densely packed on raised seats round and on the floor of the house, stamped, clapped, and bravoed.”

And now comes the story!

Twenty days after this sale, on the night of May 26, 1876, the galleries of Messrs. Agnew were entered, the canvas was cut from the stretching frame, and the Duchess was carried off!

Where?

By whom?

The picture was already too well-known to be saleable and to make it still better known photographs of the picture were immediately placed in every shop-window in London. The subject became of universal interest: pictures of the Duchess were printed on every[375] article of merchandise possible; and fashion decreed that once again the Duchess’s huge hat should be the proper thing to wear. For many years afterwards the “Gainsborough Hat” and the “Picture Hat” continued to be worn in country towns across the Atlantic, far away from London, by persons who had never heard of the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire.

Sensation No. 2.

In March, 1901, the newspapers all over the world announced that the “Lost Duchess” had been found!

Mr. Morland Agnew, after various negotiations, was handed a parcel in the Auditorium Hotel in Chicago which proved to be the Gainsborough canvas. The discovery had been made by the New York Pinkerton Detective Agency, who found the thief, one Adam Worth alias Henry Richmond, son of a German Jew, who had settled in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and who was one of the most famous and clever criminals ever known.

A few days after its return the picture was purchased by Mr. J. P. Morgan at a price beyond £30,000.

Many years before, in 1762–3, Gainsborough had painted in his studio at Bath the Duchess of Devonshire when she was little Georgiana Spencer, aged six, in a white dress, pink ribbons, and dainty cap. At the same period Gainsborough painted portraits of her parents, Earl and Countess Spencer of Althorp, the one of the Countess ranking very high among Gainsborough’s works of the Bath period. The Countess, Margaret Georgiana, daughter of the Hon. Stephen Poyntz, was a very beautiful and extremely wealthy woman and the Earl also possessed enormous wealth and became famed for the magnificent Collection he made at Althorp. The marriage of this couple in 1755 created a sensation and was much talked of in the gossipy letters and memoirs of the day. One eye-witness related: “The bride followed in a new sedan-chair lined with white satin, a black page walking before and three footmen behind, all in the most superb liveries. The diamonds worn by the newly married pair were given to Mr. Spencer by Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, and were worth £100,000. The shoe-buckles of the bridegroom alone were worth £30,000.”

[376]

Lady Harvey related that the wedding-party went from London to Althorp “in three coaches with six horses and two hundred horsemen. The villages through which they passed were in great alarm, some of the people shutting themselves up in their houses, and others coming out with pitchforks, spits, and spades, crying out ‘The invasion has come’, believing that the Pretender and the King of France were both come together; and great relief was experienced when the formidable cavalcade had passed without setting fire to the habitation, or murdering the inhabitants.”

The year after this marriage Mrs. Delany, Horace Walpole’s friend, met “Mrs. Spencer, one of the finest figures I ever saw, in white and silver with all her jewels and scarlet decorations; her modest, unaffected air gives a lustre to all her finery that would be very tinsel without it.”

Is it any wonder that with such parentage Georgiana Spencer should have had brains, beauty, charm, and perfect equipment in every way for that world of society which was her inheritance?

Georgiana was born on June 9, 1757, and was married at the age of seventeen to the fifth Duke of Devonshire, regarded as the “first match” in England. “Georgiana was a lively girl,” said Walpole, “natural and full of grace.” Immediately the Duchess became “the irresistible queen of ton” and the most conspicuous leader of society whenever and wherever she appeared. She dazzled every gathering by her beauty; astonished everyone with her elegant and extravagant dress; and charmed everybody by her wit and her grace. The Duchess was always among the gay butterflies who masqueraded at the Pantheon, promenaded at Ranelagh, danced at assemblies, or played for high-stakes at fashionable gaming-tables. To think of London society in the late Eighteenth Century without the Duchess of Devonshire, is impossible.

Walpole writes that she “effaces all without being a beauty; but her youthful figure, flowing good nature, sense, and lively modesty and modest familiarity make her a phenomenon.”

The Duchess had a clever mind and she delighted in the society of persons of talent. Fox, Sheridan, and Selwyn were among her[377] special friends. The story of her campaigning for Fox with Fox’s sister, Lady Duncannon, and even selling “a kiss for a vote” is told by many pens and by pencils as well, for the Duchess afforded fine material for the caricaturists. The Duchess was much pleased, it is said, by the compliment paid to her during the Fox campaign by an Irishman, who exclaimed: “Sure I could light me pipe at her eyes!” And Gainsborough managed to fix this flaming glance in the famous Satterlee portrait.

Coarse satire attacked the Duchess of Devonshire as it attacks all who enter the political arena; but, on the other hand, there are many tributes from contemporary pens to her sweetness of disposition and to her noble and generous qualities of heart.

In 1806 upon hearing of her death at Devonshire House, Piccadilly, (just lately demolished), the Prince of Wales exclaimed: “We have lost the best-loved woman in England” and Charles James Fox replied: “We have lost the kindest heart in England.”

The Duchess of Devonshire occasionally wrote verse. Her Passage of the Mountain of St. Gothard, dedicated to her children (she had a son and two daughters), was published with a French translation in 1802; an Italian translation was printed in 1803; and a German translation in 1805. This poem gave occasion to Coleridge’s ode with the lines:

“O lady nursed in pomp and pleasure
Whence learned you that heroic measure?”

Gainsborough could not have made this or any other portrait of the Duchess of Devonshire until after 1782, because, in that year, Bate published in the Morning Herald, the following lines:

“O Gainsboro! thou whose genius soars so high,
Wild as an eagle in an unknown sky,
To Devon turn!—thy pencil there shall find
A subject equal to thy happy mind!
Amidst thy fairest scenes, thy brightest dyes,
Like young Aurora let the Beauty rise.”

Another portrait of the Duchess of Devonshire by Gainsborough is also in this country, owned by the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon. It represents a whole length life-size figure leaning against a pedestal[378] and came from the Collection of the late Earl Spencer at Althorp, Nottinghamshire.

#### THE BLUE BOY.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of the late
(1727–1788). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

The Blue Boy is without doubt the most famous picture in the world. When it passed from the Duke of Westminster’s Collection in Grosvenor House, London, by private sale to the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington, the event created a sensation in the art-world, which soon extended to the general public. No painting was ever exploited so widely in the press and when exhibited at the Duveen Galleries in New York, before starting on its journey to California, the Blue Boy attracted unusual crowds.

Before it bade farewell to London the famous picture was exhibited at the National Gallery and the following extract from a letter of Sir Charles J. Holmes, Director of the National Gallery, dated January 24, 1922, to Sir Joseph Duveen, gives an idea of how the portrait is regarded in England:

“My dear Duveen: I saw the last, for the time being anyhow, of the Blue Boy this afternoon at ten minutes past four and feel bound to write these lines to thank you and Mrs. Huntington for the pleasure which the sight of it has given to more than 90,000 people during the last three weeks. It is indeed a most brilliant thing, outshining in its present condition all our English pictures at Trafalgar Square and when the natural mellowing of the varnish during the next two or three years has taken place its perfections will be enhanced. And though its passing from us has been the cause of universal regret, that regret has not been tinged with bitterness. It is generally recognized that while in the process of recovering from the War, the Nation could not have paid the price which its fortunate owner was able to afford.”

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

THE BLUE BOY

—Thomas Gainsborough

The picture, an oil painting on canvas, is large (5 feet, 10 inches × 4 feet) and represents a young boy, Master Jonathan Buttall of London, life-size, dressed in a blue suit, holding a broad-rimmed hat in[380] his right hand and very conspicuously standing forth from a landscape background with a dark, cloudy sky.

The following notes from the Farington Diary, recently published, bring us into relation with the two early sales.

Under date of Dec. 15, 1796, we find:

“Buttall’s sale. I went to Gainsborough’s picture of a Boy in a Blue Vandyke Dress sold for 35 guineas. Several of his drawings were sold in pairs. Some went so high as 8 guineas and a half the pair.”

“May 25, 1802. I painted till four o’clock and then went to Nesbitt’s sale in Grafton Street, where I met Hoppner, who had purchased the Boy in Blue Dress by Gainsborough, which was Buttal’s, for 65 guineas. At Buttalls sale it was sold for 35 to Mr. Nesbitt.”

The picture is in marvellous condition. When Lord Ronald Sutherland-Gower saw it in the Duke of Westminster’s Collection before it came to America, he exclaimed:

“The Blue Boy at Grosvenor House has all the glamor and charm of a portrait of a fairy prince.”

These few words explain the spell that the picture seems to cast upon every one who sees it, for whenever The Blue Boy has been exhibited crowds have stood enraptured before it.

Regarding Mr. Nesbitt’s connection with the picture we have the following story from the Rev. J. T. Trimmer, Vicar of Marston-on-Dove, Derbyshire:

“Many years ago there resided at Heston a Mr. Nesbitt, a person of substance and a companion of George, Prince of Wales. He once possessed Gainsborough’s Blue Boy and in the following way. He was dining with the Prince. ‘Nesbitt,’ said the Prince, ‘that picture, (pointing to the Blue Boy) shall be yours.’ At first he thought the Prince must be joking, but, finding he was decidedly serious, Nesbitt, who was a beau of the first water, made all suitable acknowledgments for H. R. H.’s generosity and next morning the Blue Boy arrived, followed in due time by a bill for £300, which he had the satisfaction of paying. I heard Mr. Nesbitt many years ago tell the story at my father’s table.”

[381]

From Mr. Nesbitt the Blue Boy came into possession of John Hoppner, the artist, who sold it to Earl Grosvenor. Then, of course, The Blue Boy passed as an heirloom to his successor, the Duke of Westminster. For many years The Blue Boy hung in Grosvenor House, London, in the same room with Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, the two most famous portraits of the two most famous English painters. And it is one of the romances of art that these two portraits should have crossed the Atlantic and to be again united, as it were, this time in a California mansion.

Gainsborough had doubtless some reason for painting this portrait; but it is not the reason usually given,—namely that it was done in refutation of a theory expressed by Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1778. Apart from the reasons now accepted to disprove this theory, the picture is too joyously painted for a controversial and academic tour de force.

One of Gainsborough’s latest biographers, Mr. William T. Whitley,[33] discovered the following in a number of The European Magazine (August 1798), which would seem to give the real reason for the genesis of Gainsborough’s famous portrait:

Mr. Gainsborough

“One of the finest pictures this great artist ever painted, and which might be put upon a par with any portrait that ever was executed, is that of a boy in a blue Vandyke dress, which is now in the possession of a tradesman in Greek Street. Gainsborough had seen a portrait of a boy by Titian for the first time, and, having found a model that pleased him, he set to work with all the enthusiasm of his genius. ‘I am proud,’ he said, ‘of being of the same profession with Titian, and was resolved to attempt something like him.’”

So much has been written about this portrait and the copies that have been made of it that great confusion has resulted, and the constant repetition of the same story by writers has tended to obscure rather than to clarify the subject. However, the theory now accepted is that the portrait of The Blue Boy first appeared in public at the[382] Royal Academy in 1770, sent there by Gainsborough himself,—a theory supported by a letter written by Mary Moser, R. A. to Fuseli, then in Rome, in which she said: “It is only telling you what you know already of the Exhibition of 1770, to say that Gainsborough is beyond himself in a Vandyke habit.” Another argument in favor of this date is found in a conversation with an old artist, John Taylor, recorded by J. T. Smith in his Book for a Rainy Day.

The person, chiefly, if not wholly, responsible for the first suggestion of the theory that Gainsborough painted the picture to disprove Sir Joshua Reynolds’s pronouncement regarding color seems to have been John Burnet, the engraver of some of Wilkie’s pictures and a writer on art. The legend began to be circulated in 1817, when Burnet published his Practical Treatise on Painting, where, after challenging the rules laid down by Sir Joshua, he says: “I believe Gainsborough painted the portrait of a boy dressed in blue, now in the possession of Lord Grosvenor, to show the fallacy of this doctrine.”

That seems to be all there is to it; and, once started, the story became widespread and was handed on from pen to pen and from lip to lip, until nearly everybody believes it.

Let us turn, however, to some of the authorities. First to F. G. Stephens:

“Master Jonathan Buttall was the son of Mr. Jonathan Buttall, an ironmonger in an extensive way of business, living at 31 Greek Street (at the corner of King Street), Soho, between 1728 (if not before) and 1768, when he died. According to the Book for a Rainy Day, he was ‘an immensely rich man.’ The younger Buttall continued in the business of his father until 1796, when his effects were sold by Sharpe and Coxe, the well-known auctioneers. These effects included premises in Soho and the City, a share in Drury Lane Theatre, many drawings by Gainsborough, and pictures by the same hand and others, wine, and musical instruments. It has been asserted that a Blue Boy (for there can hardly be a doubt that more than one version of the work exists) was sold on this occasion.

“A story has been credited that The Blue Boy was produced by[383] Gainsborough to refute a dictum of Sir Joshua Reynolds, delivered in his Eighth Discourse to the Students of the Royal Academy, December 10, 1778: ‘It ought, in my opinion to be indispensably observed, that the masses of light in a picture be always of a warm, mellow color, yellow, red, or a yellowish-white; and that the blue, the grey, or the green colors be kept almost entirely out of these masses, and be used only to support and set off these warm colors; and for this purpose, a small proportion of cold colors will be sufficient. Let this conduct be reversed; let the light be cold and the surrounding colors warm, as we often see in the works of the Roman and Florentine painters, and it will be out of the power of Art, even in the hands of Rubens or Titian, to make a picture splendid and harmonious.’

“It is obvious that the Eighth Discourse may have been delivered covertly to depreciate a picture which had been exhibited eight years before, but this is not likely; or it may be assumed that the painting was produced to demonstrate the futility of the President’s counsel. It is obvious that Gainsborough might, and probably did, find occasion to illustrate a principle which is apparently opposed to the dictum of Reynolds, without reference to the Eighth Discourse, or previous utterance of the P. R. A. Van Dyck repeatedly employed masses of blue in draperies, with results which are at least equal to those of the picture before us. The Children of Charles the First at Windsor is an example of the fact.[34] Leslie and every practical critic recognized that Gainsborough had evaded the full and just method of controverting the declaration of Sir Joshua rather than successfully assailed it.

“The picture before us is known to have been exhibited at the British Institution with a collection of Gainsborough’s works—the first formed independently of the artist and his wife—in 1814, under the title of Portrait of a Youth and again at the same place, in 1834, as ‘117, A Young Gentleman in a Landscape; the Picture known as The Boy in Blue.’ It was at Manchester in 1857; the International Exhibition in 1862; and at the Royal Academy in 1870. The last occasion evoked the discussion above alluded to, when the other[384] Blue Boy became prominent. The question may be summed up by saying that probably the younger Buttall had a version of his own portrait, while the Prince had another.

“Reynolds, by the way of supporting his own dictum, produced A Yellow Boy in the ‘Portrait of Charles, Earl of Dalkeith’ with an owl and a dog, which was No. 132 at the Grosvenor Exhibition, in 1884. ‘A Portrait of a Lady,’ by Gainsborough, known as ‘The Blue Lady’ was at the British Institution in 1859; ‘The Pink Boy’ (Master Nicholls, grandson of Dr. Mead), by Gainsborough, was at the Academy in 1879, No. 39; it has recently been sold to a member of the Rothschild family. The Blue Boy is at once the complement and the antithesis of Mrs. Graham (born Cathcart), now in the Scottish National Gallery (Edinburgh).”

Turning now to M. H. Spielmann in British Portrait Painting:

“In the view expressed by the late F. G. Stephens and others—an opinion I am inclined to share—the portrait known as The Blue Boy, more properly Master Jonathan Buttall, belongs to the year 1770, or thereabouts, and not to a period ten years later, as is argued by those who desire, in the face of internal evidence, to apply to it a passage—usually cited incorrectly—in Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Eighth Discourse (delivered in 1778), against the use of masses of cold blue. The stricture could not possibly apply to this picture, which triumphs by virtue of its warm blue, as it does by nobility of pose (more suggestive of a prince, as we imagine a prince should be, than of the son of a wealthy ironmonger of Greek Street), by the well controlled power and dignity made manifest throughout and by the brilliant brush charged with fat paint. The finely posed head with its admirably expressed character of boyhood and a good deal of sturdy doggedness behind the intelligent eyes, is rendered a little more heavily than is Gainsborough’s wont; but that it is a masterpiece of portraiture, as it is of color, cannot be challenged. This portrait, which from its manner may be believed to have been painted eight years before the father’s death and not two years after it, is the first to show Gainsborough’s outstanding genius as a painter of independent thought and striking modernity. At the same time it should be pointed out[385] an earlier Blue Boy by him exists in the portrait of his nephew, Edward Gardiner, painted in 1768.

“Here in Master Buttall is Gainsborough’s first great invention both in matter and manner, almost a challenge to Van Dyck’s reputation, but painted in a scheme of color Van Dyck never thought of, and would probably never have tried if he had. In handling it is Gainsborough’s first link with Watteau in its broken tints and fearless lightness of handling of the drapery, in its fascinating play of light and shade, its delightful silhouette and cast shadows. It is difficult to imagine how the composition could be bettered; the picture, by itself, had no others come from the same brush, would have immortalized the painter.”

Finally, Sir Walter Armstrong agrees, too, with the Stephens theory:

“Those who cling to the old traditions quote the style of The Blue Boy in support of the notion that it could not have been painted before 1779. I confess that, to me, it now seems, after much and close observation, to point the other way. The loaded impasto, the ruddy carnations, the tendency to brown and beyond it in the shadows, the preoccupation with force, seem all to belong to about the same period as the group at Knole and to be inconsistent with the feathery lightness, freedom, and gaiety which mark Gainsborough’s work towards the end of his life. The most significant comparison may be made with the National Gallery Mrs. Siddons. Here again blue, and a franker blue than that of the Master Buttall, is the dominant note. But the painting is more assured, the handling lighter and more prompt, the shadows more transparent, and the figure, as a whole, truer to its illumination. It would not be fair to dwell too much on the contrast between the flesh painting of The Blue Boy and that of the Mrs. Siddons, for I fancy the peculiar white bloom of the latter’s skin is due to the fact that she sat in her paint. But it must not be overlooked that even in the portraits of pretty women, that of Eliza Linley for instance, painted about 1770, there is a fullness of color we do not find ten years later. Taking everything into account, it seems to me that the old tradition of The Blue Boy must be given up, and that the Duke of Westminster’s picture, so far from being an answer[386] to Reynolds, was one of the many things that provoked his dictum, Gainsborough replying, if he took the trouble to reply at all, with the Mrs. Siddons and those other portraits, painted in the last ten years of his life, in which blue, canary yellow, and other cool tints are made the centres of the color scheme.”

Buttall and Gainsborough continued their relations. Buttall was one of the “few friends Gainsborough respected and whom he desired should attend his funeral at Kew. Buttall outlived Gainsborough seventeen years and died in December, 1805, as the Morning Herald notes: “Died, on Friday last, at his house in Oxford Street, Jonathan Buttall, Esq., a gentleman whose amiable manners and good disposition will cause him to be ever regretted by his friends.”

#### GENERAL PHILIP HONYWOOD.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of
(1727–1788). | Mr. John Ringling.

When Gainsborough exhibited this portrait in London in 1765 it created quite a stir, as it was a departure from the style of any portrait by that artist; and when it was sent home to Mark Hall, the seat of the Honywood family in Essex, a new room had to be built in order to accommodate it, as the canvas measures nearly ten feet square (96¾ × 82¼).

This has the reputation of being the finest equestrian portrait ever painted by Gainsborough. Fulcher writes of it:

“Never was the amenity of landscape more happily displayed. Through a richly wooded scene wherein the sturdy oak and silvery-barked birch are conspicuous, the soldier, mounted on a bay horse, appears to be passing, wearing a scarlet dress which contrasts finely with the mass of surrounding foliage. Nothing can be easier than his attitude, as with one hand he curbs his charger and with the other holds his sword which seems to flash in the sun. The picturesque design of this portrait, its brilliant coloring, its bold yet careful execution, Gainsborough never surpassed. No wonder that George III wished[388] to become the possessor of it and no wonder that Horace Walpole wrote of it in his catalogue ‘very good.’ Of the nine pictures which decorated the walls of Mark Hall grand staircase, three were by Gainsborough and included the remarkable portrait of General Honywood. It is the largest work by that master and has the reputation also of being the finest equestrian portrait ever painted by Gainsborough, competing only with Van Dyck’s Portrait of Charles I in the Prado Gallery, Madrid, with which it has more than once been compared.”

Collection of Mr. John Ringling

GENERAL PHILIP HONYWOOD

—Thomas Gainsborough

The landscape, it is interesting to say, is a part of the park at Mark Hall. General Philip Honywood of Mark Hall came of an old Kentish family deriving its origin from a place called Honewood or Hunewood in the parish of Postling in Kent, where they had held lands since the Norman Conquest. General Philip Honywood was born in 1710 and succeeded his nephew in 1758. He was a General of His Majesty’s forces, Colonel of the Third Royal Dragoon Guards, Governor of the Town and Citadel of Kinston-upon-Hull and was also member of Parliament for thirty-one years for the borough of Appleby in the County of Westmoreland. Philip Honywood was always familiarly called “the General” and he died in 1785.

Until 1878 this portrait remained in possession of the Honywood family at Mark Hall.

Sir Walter Armstrong in his Gainsborough writes:

“It represents the General riding across the canvas from left to right. He wears a scarlet uniform and carries his sword, unsheathed, in his right hand; he has no scabbard. The horse, a rich bay, is a little too long. The painter has not taken the precaution to draw him in before commencing the figure, and so the fore-quarters are separated from the hind by rather too much middle-piece. This mistake is still more conspicuous in the Colonel St. Leger at Hampton Court, where a quite unreasonable amount of horse shows behind the figure. Otherwise, the Honywood picture is as successful in design as it is in all other ways. The landscape is one of the finest backgrounds ever painted and reminds one of the backgrounds to some of those equestrian portraits by Velasquez which Gainsborough never saw. It is curious that Reynolds had sent a General on Horseback to[389] the Exhibition of 1761. Many things point to the probability that Gainsborough made an annual visit to London during the exhibition and it is quite likely that the apparition of Sir Joshua’s ‘General’ suggested the treatment of his own.”

The Reynolds referred to above is the portrait of Lord Ligonier now in the National Gallery, London.

#### THE HARVEST WAGGON.

Thomas Gainsborough | Collection of
(1727–1788). | Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

This picture bears comparison with Gainsborough’s famous Market Cart in the National Gallery, London. Some critics even prefer it. It is painted in oils on canvas (48 × 59 inches) and represents a countryside and a scene very familiar to the painter. The country is rugged with a wheel track winding from the left foreground away into the distance towards the blue hills. On the left, there are massive boulders overgrown with shrubbery and trees with russet foliage overhanging the lane. The rustic dray-cart, laden with laughing country folk, is halted to enable a young girl to clamber up over the wheel and into the arms of a youth who bends forward to help her. The three horses stand placidly while the driver adjusts the collar of the leader. A panting dog capers by the cart and two sheep that have strayed from their flock are seen resting by the boulders. The rock in the foreground is signed with the initials “T. G.”

The Harvest Waggon gains particular interest because the two young girls—one seated in the waggon and one climbing up over the wheel—are Gainsborough’s daughters. The horses, too, are portraits—horses that belonged to John Wiltshire, the chief carrier of Bath, and the cart is one of Wiltshire’s “flying waggons.” In some accounts of John Wiltshire he is represented as an ordinary dray-man, who drove his own carts and made deliveries. This was not the case, however. John Wiltshire was a man of importance in Bath, having built up a large “carrying business” (which we would to-day call express), with[390] a regular service of “flying waggons,” always going back and forth from his warehouses in Broad Street, Bath, to the White Swan at Holborn Bridge, London. Wiltshire was elected Mayor of Bath in 1772 and gave a great entertainment at the Town Hall to the gentry and fashionables, giving thereby “much offense to the people in trade” who were not invited. Some idea of the speed of these “flying waggons” may be had from Gainsborough’s letter to Garrick relative to the delivery of the latter’s portrait:

“The picture is to go to London by the Wiltshire fly-waggon on Wednesday next and I believe will arrive by Saturday morning.”

John Wiltshire, who came of a good old family that had attained the rank of squires, lived in a fine mansion at Shockerwick near Bath, which had belonged to his father. This was quite a place of rendez-vous for the notable personages who visited Bath. “There,” it was said, “Anstey had a beech tree, Gainsborough an elm, and Quin an arm-chair, while Fielding, Allen, and their hospitable host, Wiltshire, enjoyed the shades of its sylvan glades.”

Wiltshire was so devoted to Gainsborough and such an admirer of his paintings that he would never allow him to pay any bills for “carrying.” Yet he delivered all of Gainsborough’s finished pictures. After a time, upon Gainsborough’s insisting, Wiltshire replied: “When you think I have carried to the value of a little painting, I beg you will let me have one, sir; and I shall be more than paid.”

By degrees Wiltshire thus acquired his small, but very choice, collection of Gainsboroughs, which was sold at Shockerwick in 1867.

The Harvest Waggon was one of these; and the way the picture came to be painted was this. On one occasion Gainsborough asked Wiltshire to lend him a horse for a model. The generous Wiltshire saddled and bridled one of his horses and sent it to Gainsborough for a present. Gainsborough painted this horse and made, as Fulcher says, “a remarkably fine study of this animal.” Gainsborough now returned the compliment. He painted The Harvest Waggon and sent it to Wiltshire as a present. Wiltshire was overjoyed, for here was his own waggon; here were his own horses; and here were the artist’s own daughters!

[391]

Collection of Sir Joseph Duveen, Bart.

THE HARVEST WAGGON

—Thomas Gainsborough

[392]

On giving The Harvest Waggon to Wiltshire, Gainsborough said it pleased him more than any picture he had ever painted.

From the Collections of Thomas Gibbons, Esq., Hanover Terrace, Regents Park, of the Rev. Benjamin Gibbons, Hanover Terrace, Regents Park, and of Sir Lionel Phillips, London, The Harvest Waggon passed into the Collection of the late Judge Elbert H. Gary. It attracted great attention at the Gary Sale in New York, April, 1928, when it was sold at the Plaza Hotel for $875,000, the highest figure that any picture has ever reached at auction.

#### JOHN WALTER TEMPEST.

George Romney | Collection of
(1734–1802). | Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Field.

It would be hard to find in all the range of portraiture, at any time and in any place, a work more charming, true, sincere, natural, and ingratiating than this adorable boy with his beloved horse. You can see at a glance that they love each other.

Everything about the picture is delightful: the coloring, the handsome, sweet, and dreamy boy with his unspeakable grace and gentleness, the fine horse, so contented, and the suave landscape—all make both a portrait and a picture that will live for all time. No changes in fashion can ever destroy its beauty and its appeal. Moreover, Romney has succeeded in suggesting here a young boy’s dreams and the friendship between a boy and a horse. The relation between the two, as they enjoy a pause in their jaunt through the woodland, is marvellously expressed. The relation of these figures to the landscape is such that we feel as if we, too, were in this lovely, English, sylvan spot. We seem to hear the plash of the tiny waterfall and the sound of the horse’s lips as he quenches his thirst. In just one moment more and the sweet, gentle, dreamy boy will pat his friend’s warm, brown neck, leap lightly on his back and off they will go merrily

“to seek fresh woods and pastures new.”

[393]

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Field

JOHN WALTER TEMPEST

—George Romney

[394]

The picture is in oils on canvas (90 × 58 inches) and was painted in 1779–1780. In the Catalogue Raisonné of Romney’s works we read:

“Whole length, when a youth, standing, facing towards and looking to the front; long hair; purple dress, white turned-down collar, white stockings and black shoes with silver buckles; standing by his horse, which is drinking at a stream to the left; right hand holding the reins; left hand holding whip; trees in the distance.”

For several years this lovely picture was in the Collection of Asher Wertheimer, Esq., of London.

John Walter Tempest was the only son of John Tempest, Esq., of Sherburn, County Durham, and member of Parliament for Durham. He died in 1793 at Brighthelmstone, where he had gone for his health.

The German critic, August Grisebach, has a profound admiration for this portrait. Writing in Die Kunst für Alle (1908), he says:

“As a new representation of the half-grown boy Romney’s John Walter Tempest stands next to the Blue Boy. In place of the warm lighting of the brilliant silk of the correctly adorned boy in Van Dyck style and the aristocratic pose of the manufacturer’s son, is the simple cloth coat of subdued violet against the light-brown horse, so quiet and reserved in color and line, similar to an antique relief.”

The Strawberry Girl is reckoned among the most original of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s works. Surely John Walter Tempest is one of Romney’s most brilliant triumphs! Moreover, the picture is highly original.

For a great number of years George Romney in his house, No. 32 Cavendish Square, shared the patronage of the aristocracy with Reynolds and Gainsborough. Romney’s career was remarkable, for he had almost no training. Romney was born in 1734 at Beckside, near Dalton in Cumberland, the son of a cabinet-maker, who wrote his name Rumney. He, too, was destined for a cabinet-maker, but made the acquaintance in Kendal of a portrait-painter named Christopher Steele, who had studied with Carle Van Loo, and became his pupil and apprentice in 1755. Romney soon painted a number of portraits in Kendal and also a hand holding a letter for the town post-office, which attracted much attention.

Undoubtedly Romney acquired something of the French style[395] through this teacher and we may regard him indirectly as a pupil of Van Loo. Certainly there is a quality in Romney that finds response in the French painters of the Eighteenth Century.

Lord Gower says in his Romney (London, 1904):

“Apparently the Count made use of his pupil to prepare and grind his colors and to carve frames for his portraits. Later these color-grindings must have been of great use to Romney, and the preparation and mode of laying on the oil colors may account for the excellence and permanency of his paintings, which have stood admirably and unfadingly the test of time and which are in most cases as fresh and brilliant, as clear and transparent, as when they left Romney’s studio nearly a century and a half ago. It is not without interest that one recalls how all the great Italian and Flemish Masters instructed their pupils in the preparation of the minutest detail in all things relating to their painting, from the preliminary grinding of the colors and the laying on of the groundwork of their subject, whether on paint or canvas; for not only were the great Italian and Flemish old painters past masters in all that appertained to the technicalities of their art, but honest and loyal in seeing no detail, however irksome, omitted which could give permanency and endurance to their creations; hence those marvels of color, paintings three and four centuries old which still glow with all the brilliancy of gems and flowers, as radiant as some noble stained-glass window in some glorious Gothic fane.”

In 1762, when he was but twenty-eight, Romney moved to London (leaving his wife, son, and daughter) and established himself in the great city. As a painter of excellent portraits at low prices Romney soon saved enough money for a visit to Paris, and hard work enabled him to close his studio and spend two years in Italy. Soon after his return in 1775, Romney removed from Gray’s Inn to No. 32 Cavendish Square, formerly occupied by the painter, Francis Cotes, (who had died in 1770). A portrait of the Duke of Richmond Reading launched Romney into fame and fortune. Thenceforward there was nothing to do but work. Romney became the fashion and ranked with Gainsborough and Reynolds; and, as his prices were considerably less than theirs, his studio was never empty of sitters. Romney’s[396] Diaries show his amazing industry and a golden register of the nobility and gentry besides people of fashion and artistic distinction. The year 1777, for instance, shows six hundred sittings which Mr. Ward calculates as representing from a hundred and twenty to a hundred and fifty finished portraits. Romney’s charming style was now fully developed and some of his loveliest portraits date from this period: the Countess of Warwick and her Children; Lady Susan Lenox; Lady Derby (see page 401); Lady Albemarle; Lord Gower’s Children Dancing; John Walter Tempest; and Lady Craven, which inspired Horace Walpole to write:

“Full many an artist has on canvas fix’d
All charms that Nature’s pencil ever mix’d—
The Witchery of Eyes, the Grace that tips
The inexpressible douceur of Lips
Romney alone, in this fair image caught
Each Charm’s Expression and each Feature’s thought.
And shows how in their sweet assemblage sit
Taste, Spirit, Softness, Sentiment, and Wit.”—H. W.

Therefore, it will be seen that Romney had been producing beautiful work before the advent of the beautiful Emma Hart, the future Lady Hamilton.

Romney left Cavendish Square in 1798, having bought a house at Hollybush Hill, Hampstead, from which he removed two years later to return to his wife and son at Kendal. He bought the estate of Whitestock, near Ulverstone, where his son finished the house he did not live to complete. Romney died in 1802, having been for two or three years in a state of complete imbecility.

“For the first half-century or more after his death his work was neglected. Hidden in private houses, the public never saw it; his biographies did not interest people; he had left no group of influential friends to hand down his memory. There was no such machinery of celebrity in his case as had existed so abundantly in Sir Joshua’s who lived not only by his pictures but by a multitude of lovely engravings and by the written and spoken word of colleagues, pupils, and friends. So Romney’s fame may almost be said to have died away during the dark ages between 1820 and 1850; and Christie’s Catalogues show that[397] in those days he was ignored by collectors and by galleries, such as then existed. In the general revival of æsthetic intelligence which began about the middle of the century—a revival of which the Pre-Raphaelite movement, the eloquence of Ruskin, and the growth of a new class of wealthy amateurs were so many symptoms and conditions—Romney began to emerge once more. Never was there an artist who lived more wholly in his art. ‘In his painting-room,’ said his pupil, Robinson, ‘he seemed to have the highest enjoyment of life, and the more he painted the greater flow of spirits he acquired.’ It is true that, by one of the ironies of history, it was not primarily in portrait-painting that he was interested, but in those larger schemes and subjects to which, according to the classification of his time, he gave a higher place.”[35]

#### THE HON. MRS. DAVENPORT.

George Romney | Collection of the
(1734–1802). | Hon. Andrew W. Mellon.

The Hon. Mrs. Davenport (Charlotte Sneyd) is another of Romney’s superlative creations. She is the personification of a gentle English beauty, who might well have sat for the portrait of Tennyson’s “Queen of the Rosebud Garden of Girls” in Maud.

Mrs. Davenport, dressed in perfect taste, is posed against a lovely landscape background. Her gown is a delicate, yet glowing pink, and her cape is white velvet trimmed with white fur. She also wears a white scarf with brown ribbon and a white felt hat trimmed with brown and white ribbons. Her powdered hair is arranged in soft ringlets and a black velvet band around her neck affords a note of contrast to the general lightness of the color of the costume. A fashionable muff adds a chic touch. The face is remarkably sweet and intelligent, as well as beautiful, and the whole impression given by the portrait is of a charming, gentle, gracious, and lovable personality.

Charlotte Sneyd, born in 1756, was the daughter of Mr. Ralph Sneyd[398] of Keele Hall, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Staffordshire, descended from an ancient family of Chester, one of whom had been knighted on the battlefield of Pinkie in 1547. Her mother was the daughter of Sir W. W. Bugot, fifth Baronet of Blithefield, and the grand-daughter of the first Earl of Dartmouth.

Collection of the Hon. Andrew W. Mellon

THE HON. MRS. DAVENPORT

—George Romney

Charlotte Sneyd was married in 1777 to Mr. Davies Davenport, High Sheriff of Cheshire in 1783, and M. P. from 1806 to 1830. His seats were Capesthorne, Crewe, and Calvely, Nantwich. Their youngest son took the extra surname of Bromley and owned Baginton Hall, Coventry. The Hon. Mrs. Davenport died in 1829. She was a cousin of Honora Sneyd, whose name has been associated with that series of portraits by Romney known as the “Serena” portraits. Honora was also famous for her engagement to the talented, charming, and ill-fated Major John André.

The picture, painted in oils on canvas (30 × 25 inches), came from the Collection of Brigadier-General Sir William Bromley-Davenport, K. C. B., Lord-Lieutenant of the County of Chester, Capesthorne Hall, Cheshire, England.

#### LADY DERBY.

George Romney | Collection of
(1734–1802). | Mr. Jules S. Bache.

Of Elizabeth, Countess of Derby, Romney made one of his most beautiful portraits and one of the most beautiful portraits, moreover, of that great portrait period in which Romney worked. Everything about it is lovely. There is no color in the picture except Lady Derby’s golden hair and the green and brown tones of the distant landscape and of the tree behind her. The dress, a thin white India mull of exquisite fineness and transparency, is draped over a white brocade skirt, making a costume which is the quintessence of purity and lightness; and Romney has treated the white so perfectly that the picture seems to emit a celestial radiance. Lady Derby has the fresh English complexion of rose and white, and her golden hair is like sunshine and[400] amber. The pose is so easy and natural that we may safely guess it was a characteristic one. Lady Derby seems unconscious of her charm; but she was certainly too beautiful not to know it.

Elizabeth, Countess of Derby, was the only daughter of James, sixth Duke of Hamilton and the famous Irish beauty, Elizabeth Gunning, who, with her sister, Maria, took London by storm when they removed there in 1751 from Dublin. The career of the Gunning sisters was extraordinary, for they had no money; but their handsome faces, fine figures, stylish dressing, and charming manners, soon brought them into notoriety. Crowds surged around them whenever they appeared: in the streets, in Hyde Park, at Ranelagh, at Vauxhall, at routs, at assemblies, or at the theatre. Horace Walpole said “it was extraordinary that two sisters should be so beautiful.” Maria Gunning married in 1752 the Earl of Coventry and also in the same year Elizabeth married surreptitiously James, sixth Duke of Hamilton “using the ring of the bed-curtain for her wedding ring.” On his death, six years later, she married John, fifth Duke of Argyll. Elizabeth, now Duchess of Argyll, was still as beautiful as ever and people ran after her as usual whenever she appeared in public. “One Sunday evening in June, 1759,” so Horace Walpole notes, “she was mobbed in Hyde Park. The King ordered that to prevent this for the future, she should have a guard; and on the next Sunday she made herself ridiculous by walking in the Park from eight to ten P. M. with two sergeants of the Guards in front with their halberds and twelve soldiers following her.” Elizabeth, Countess of Derby, with such a beautiful mother, had, therefore, the right to be a beauty. On June 12, 1774, “Lady Betty Hamilton” was married to Edward Smith Stanley, afterwards twelfth Earl of Derby, known as the “Cock-fighting Earl.” She soon tired of him and ran away with the Duke of Dorset, who had been working on the Derby estate for some time in the guise of a gardener in order to be near the beautiful Elizabeth and to perfect their plans for elopement. Who can look upon Romney’s portrait and blame him? Lord Derby married in 1797 the celebrated actress Miss Farren (see page 420). Elizabeth Hamilton died in 1797, aged forty-four.

Collection of Mr. Jules S. Bache

LADY DERBY

—George Romney

This portrait, oils on canvas (49½ × 39 inches), was painted in 1776–1778,[402][401] after twelve sittings: Nov. 27, 1776; Jan. 31, Feb. 11, 14, 21, and March 19, 1777; Feb. 13, March 2, 9, 14, 23 and May 4, 1778. A mezzotint was made by John Dean in 1780.

After having been for many years in the Tennant Collection this chef-d’œuvre passed to Mr. Jules S. Bache.

A charming picture of Lady Elizabeth Hamilton, or “Lady Betty Hamilton,” as a child of five years, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, now hangs in the Widener Collection at Lynnewood Hall, Elkins Park, Pennsylvania. The little girl is seated on a bank facing the spectator and is shown at full length, wearing a pink dress over a large hoop, with low neck and short sleeves, and a spray of flowers at her neck. In her hands she holds a bouquet of bright flowers. This picture, painted in 1758, belonged to the Duke of Argyll and afterwards to the Earl of Normanton.

“The Eighteenth Century,” says Max Roldt, “has often been called the Age of Grace. If I were asked how this name could best be justified, I should point without a moment’s hesitation to the portraits by George Romney. Others painted graceful women in graceful dresses and graceful poses, but Romney personified Grace, made her his goddess; and it was her portrait which he painted over and over again under different lineaments and with various features. See his Lady Derby as she sits on a bank quietly dreaming under the trees; her legs are lightly crossed; her elbow rests on her knee so that her long, fine hand just touches her chin without actually supporting the pure oval of the head; with her white, muslin dress pulled up showing the underskirt of the broché satin of the same hue, is she not the very embodiment of grace?”

[403]

#### EMMA, LADY HAMILTON.

George Romney | Collection of the late
(1734–1802). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

Who tied that white band over the big hat—Romney or Emma? It was certainly a very original idea!

“Three quarters in a straw hat called Emma, finished for Mr. Crawford,” is the way this picture is referred to in John Romney’s Memoirs; and in Romney’s own Ledger this note occurs: “Three quarters paid for by Mr. Crawford, 30 guineas, Sept. 15, 1792, and sent home to Mr. Crawford’s No. 48 Brook Street, July 21, 1792.”

At three-quarter, then, seated in a chair, dressed in white and wearing the conspicuous “straw hat,” trimmed with a broad band of ribbon tied into large bows, “Emma” looks at us rather pensively,—almost sadly. The pose is alluringly graceful and easy, but the swirling lines, when analysed, show the thought and art of a master. It is like a graceful melody of Mozart. Contour, beauty, and rhythm all are here!

Romney painted no fewer than thirty pictures of the “Divine Emma,” in character and with titles, and fourteen portraits, without titles; and, besides, he painted many replicas and variants of these portraits.

Emma Hart came into Romney’s life in 1782, taken to the painter’s studio in Cavendish Square one April morning by the Hon. Charles Francis Greville, second son of the Earl of Warwick, with whom she was then living. Romney was instantly struck by her extraordinary beauty, vivacity, and talent for posing. From this first picture, entitled Nature and representing Emma with a little black spaniel under arm, for which Greville paid twenty guineas, Romney produced portrait after portrait in various characters: Alope; Ariadne; Bacchante; In a Black Hat; Calypso (perhaps the same as Ariadne); Cassandra; Circe; Comedy; Comic Muse; Cybele; Daphne (perhaps the same as Bacchante); Contemplation; Emma in a Straw Hat (see page 405); Euphrosyne; Gipsy; Iphigenia; Joan of Arc; Kate (same[404] as Ariadne); Magdalen; Medea; Meditation; with Miniature in Belt; Miranda; Lady Hamilton in Morning Dress; Nature; Nun; Pythian Priestess; Reading the Gazette; St. Cecilia; Sensibility; Serena; Servant’s Cap; Shepherdess; Sigismunda; Spinning-Wheel; Supplication; With Vesuvius in the Distance; Welsh Girl; Wood Nymph (same as Alope).

Portraits without titles are: Seated resting head on right hand, white dress; Bust to left showing hands, head leaning on right hand, forefinger on chin, bare neck and shoulders, blue and white drapery; Half-length, life-size, head facing, resting on crossed hands, light dress, colored scarf twisted around the head, arms bare to elbow, leaning on table; Head looking up to left; Head looking up to left (oval); Head to left with startled expression (sketch); Three-quarter length figure seated to left looking back over left shoulder, head resting on left hand, white dress and cap and colored sash; Half figure turned to right, white dress, white drapery around head (several versions); Head, shoulders, full face, low cut white dress, dark curly hair; Bust facing front, face looking down reading a book, white dress, brown background; Bust, life-size looking upward and smiling; White veil over head; Head and shoulders looking at spectator and smiling, dark red dress cut low, brown hair falling over shoulders, turban; Half figure directed to left looking at spectator, dark dress, white fichu, dark felt hat with broad brim and bunch of feathers, hair bound with blue ribbon, hands resting on lap, white lace cuffs.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

EMMA, LADY HAMILTON

—George Romney

The story of Emma, Lady Hamilton, is a strange one. She was born on April 26, 1761, at Denhall, Chester, the only child of Henry Lyon, a blacksmith: no one knows why she took the name of Hart. While she was a child, her mother moved to Hawarden, entering the service of Mrs. Thomas, wife of the parish doctor, and Emma remained there until she was sixteen, earning her living as nursery-maid and waiting-woman. We find her in London in her eighteenth year employed in the celebrated Temple of Health, of which the notorious empiric, Dr. Graham, was the originator and proprietor, presiding there as the “lovely Hebe Vestina, Rosy Goddess of Health.” Here, at certain times of day, the “lovely Hebe” and the famous quack could[406] be seen buried up to their necks in the mudbaths, Dr. Graham’s hair dressed according to the latest expression of the perruquier’s taste and Hebe with one of those towering head-dresses of the day, powdered and decorated with flowers, feathers, ropes of pearls, and gewgaws of many kinds.

Sir Walter Armstrong is of the opinion that Emma Hart sat for Gainsborough’s Musidora Bathing her Feet (in the National Gallery, London). “The features,” he says, “are those of Emma Lyon refined, the hair is hers, and the rest of the figure is what we find in several of Romney’s pictures.”

There is a very good reason that this might be so, for Gainsborough rented one part of Schomberg House, Pall Mall, and Dr. Graham rented the other. Consequently, Gainsborough had every opportunity of seeing the lovely Emma very frequently.

While presiding at Dr. Graham’s establishment, Emma attracted the attention of Sir Henry Featherstonehaugh of Up Park, Sussex, who persuaded her to leave the Temple and reside at Up Park. In the following year she placed herself under the protection of the Hon. Charles Greville.

In 1784 Sir Charles’s uncle, Sir William Hamilton, his Majesty’s Ambassador at Naples, came to London on a visit, a widower, a man of distinguished tastes, an art-connoisseur, a lover of music, and a descendant of a noble family. Sir William became fascinated with Emma and there was a clever transfer of Emma, not to the credit of either of these dashing “blades.” Ultimately Emma joined Sir William in Naples, where she was lodged at the British Embassy and treated with the distinction due royalty, having, moreover, her carriage, boat, livery, and other appurtenances of state. In a letter to the Hon. Charles, Emma says: “Sir William is very fond of me and very kind to me. The house is full of painters painting me. He has now got nine pictures of me and two a-painting. Marchant is cutting my head in stone, that is in cameo for a ring. There is another man modelling me in wax and another in clay. All the artists is come from Rome to study from me, so that Sir William as fitted up a room that is called the painting-room. Sir William is never a moment from me.[407] He goes no where without me. He has no dinners but what I can be of the party. Nobody comes without they are civil to me.”

On Sept. 6, 1791, the infatuated Ambassador married Emma in Marylebone Church, the Marquis of Abercorn, Sir William’s kinsman, acting as best man. During the months preceding the wedding Emma sat almost daily to Romney.

On June 19, 1791, Romney wrote to William Hayley: “At present and the greatest part of this summer, I shall be engaged in painting pictures from the divine lady. I cannot give her any other epithet for I think her superior to all womankind. I have two pictures to paint of her for the Prince of Wales. She says she must see you before she leaves England, which will be in the beginning of September. She asked me if you would not write my life. I told her you had begun it; then she said she hoped you would have much to say of her in the life, as she prided herself on being my model.”

Romney also gave a party in Emma’s honor, on which occasion she displayed her remarkable talents. Romney wrote:

“She performed in my house last week, singing and acting before some of the nobility with most astonishing power. She is the talk of the whole town, and really surpasses everything, both in singing and acting, that ever appeared. Gallini offered her two thousand pounds a year and two benefits if she would engage with him, on which Sir William said pleasantly that he had engaged her for life.”

Directly after her marriage Lady Hamilton gave Romney a sitting. His Diary has these dates:

- “Sept. 5 Mon. Mrs. Hart at 9.
- Sept. 6 Tues. Lady Hamilton at 11.”

Sir William and Lady Hamilton left soon afterwards for Naples and Romney and Emma never met again.

Sir William Hamilton died in 1803; but from 1796 Emma had lived with and for Lord Nelson until his death in the Battle of Trafalgar. Emma died at Calais, Jan. 15, 1815.

The portrait shown here (30 × 25 inches), belonged to Tankerville Chamberlayne, Esq., and then passed into the Collection of Alfred C. de Rothschild, Esq.

[408]

England indirectly owes to Lady Hamilton one of Nelson’s great victories. When Nelson was in pursuit of the French, it was Lady Hamilton who obtained the order from the King of Naples for the fleet to enter port for provisions and water. Nelson thereupon entered the harbor of Syracuse, watered his fleet, and fought the victorious Battle of the Nile. A few months later Lady Hamilton and Nelson managed to rescue the Royal family of Naples by taking them through a subterranean passage and by boats to Nelson’s ship, the Vanguard. “The world owes it to Lady Hamilton,” says John Paget, “that the sister of Marie Antoinette did not share her horrible fate—that another head, as fair as that which fell into the basket of sawdust in front of the Tuileries on the 16th of October, 1793, did not roll on the scaffold at Naples in 1799. When we come to take the account as it stood between the world and Lady Hamilton when it finally closed in 1815, we find it strangely changed since 1791. The balance has turned. It is the world, it is humanity, that is the debtor.”

What a strange career! A woman of matchless beauty, artistic gifts of a high order, mental brilliance, generosity, charm, and kindness of heart, and, moreover, able to educate herself in the ways of society, admired, and courted by princes, artists, and men of powers, the intimate friend of the Queen of Naples, the beloved of Lord Nelson, the deity of Romney, enjoying at one time all that wealth and distinction could give and at the end forlorn, poor, and deserted, and dying in a foreign country—such was the life of Emma, Lady Hamilton!

How beautifully Humphrey Ward sums up the whole situation:

“We know that in later years many painters tried their skill upon her—Reynolds once, Madame Vigée Le Brun at least twice, Angelica Kauffman probably, and many an Italian painter and sculptor to whom she sat in Sir William’s painting-room at Naples. But none of these artists, not even Reynolds himself, in the well-known Bacchante, made of the most beautiful woman in the world anything that was distinctive, anything that was much removed from the commonplace. It is Romney alone who has preserved the life of those wonderful features, of that radiant hair, and of the multitudinous phases of expression through which this born actress, inspired by his suggestions,[410] passed seemingly at will. Her name remains inseparably bound, though in very different ways, with the names of two great men—a hero and a painter. In the Chronique scandaleuse of a hundred years ago, Emma belongs to Nelson; in the history of art, she belongs to Romney.”

#### ANNE, LADY DE LA POLE.

George Romney | Collection of the
(1734–1802). | Hon. Alvan T. Fuller.

The portrait represented here of Anne, Lady de la Pole, oils on canvas (49 × 39½ inches), was painted in 1786 after the great Lady Hamilton period. The dress is of white satin with puffed sleeves of white mull and a sash of pale green with gold fringe. The slippers, of pale green, match the sash. The hair is powdered and draped with a white veil.

A critic notes that “the sheen of the white satin dress has since it was painted one hundred and forty years ago become slightly tinged with mauve thus completely harmonizing with the light color of the sash and shoes. The manipulation of the light on the right side of the picture gives a mellow autumnal atmosphere to the portrait of a dignified and beautiful woman.”

Collection of the Hon. Alvan T. Fuller

ANNE, LADY DE LA POLE

—George Romney

Anne, Lady de la Pole, was the only daughter of John Templer, Esq., of Stover House, Devon, and was married in January, 1781, to Sir John William Pole, sixth Baronet and son of Sir John Pole of Shute, Devon, whom he succeeded in 1766. Sir John assumed by “sign-manual” the name of de la Pole.

At the same time that he made this beautiful portrait, Romney also painted Sir John de la Pole, as a companion piece. Lady de la Pole died in 1832.

[411]

#### THE HON. MRS. GRANT OF KILGRASTON.

Sir Henry Raeburn | Collection of
(1756–1823). | Mr. C. Fisher.

This picture comes from the Collection of Colonel Walter Brown of Renfrew and was formerly in the Collection of the Hon. Mr. Stuart Gray.

It is an oil on canvas (30 × 24 inches), depicting Mrs. Grant of Kilgraston, daughter of Francis, Lord Grey. The lady is turned three quarters to the left and wears a dark gown with deep loose frill of white around the neck. Her hair falls in careless curls over her brow. The background is plain.

Compared with Sir Joshua Reynolds’s some two thousand portraits, Raeburn’s some seven or eight hundred is small; but it is, after all, a goodly number.

“Raeburn,” in the words of his fellow-townsman, Robert Louis Stevenson, “was a born painter of portraits. He looked people shrewdly between the eyes, surprised their manners in their face and had possessed himself of what was essential in their character before they had been many minutes in his studio. What he was so swift to perceive he conveyed to the canvas almost in the moment of conception.”

Raeburn, born in Stockbridge, a suburb of Edinburgh, in 1756, became the leading Scottish portrait-painter, President of the Royal Society of Artists at Edinburgh, and a Royal Academician in 1815, presenting in 1821 his diploma picture The Boy with Rabbit. Raeburn was knighted by George IV in 1822.

Raeburn was almost entirely self-taught; and it seems strange that with practically no training, as the world understands this word, that he should have risen to the circle of great painters. Many of the greatest Italian painters of the Renaissance began life as goldsmiths. So did Raeburn. After a preliminary education at the famous Heriot’s Hospital in Edinburgh, he was apprenticed to a goldsmith in that city. Next he took up miniature-painting and passed on to oils,[412] devoting himself to portraits. Success came quickly and early. At the age of twenty-two Raeburn was thoroughly established as the leading portrait-painter in Scotland and had married a wealthy widow of title. A visit to London and Rome in 1785–7 was the only break in his enviable life, passed in the greatest serenity replete with domestic happiness, social distinction, and artistic fertility. Practically an entire generation of the men and women of Scotland, most of them celebrities—sat to Raeburn in his studio.

As Raeburn’s portraits are neither signed nor dated and no very marked periods emphasize his style, it is difficult to assign accurate dates to any of his works unless some special year is attached to them. Moreover, no lists of the sitters and note-books are known. If he kept them they were destroyed. However, as Raeburn advanced in years he attained more and more command of technique, his appreciation of character became deeper, and his expression of it more complete.

Raeburn was appreciated by his contemporaries. When he showed some of his portraits to Sir Joshua Reynolds in London in 1785, Sir Joshua took him at once into favor and friendship; Sir Thomas Lawrence pronounced the portrait of The Macnab (the Highland Chieftain) the best representation of a human being he had ever seen; and Sir David Wilkie compared Raeburn to Velasquez. Writing to a brother artist from Madrid in 1828 Sir David remarks:

“There is much resemblance between Velasquez and the works of some of the chiefs of the English School; but of all Raeburn resembles him most, of whose square touch in heads, hands, and accessories, I see the very counterpart of the Spaniard.” Wilkie also wrote to Alexander Nasmyth from Spain: “There are some heads by Velasquez in Madrid, which, were they in Edinburgh, would be thought to be by Raeburn; and I have seen a portrait of Lord Glenlee, I think, by Raeburn, which would in Madrid be thought a near approach to Velasquez.”

Collection of Mr. C. Fisher

THE HON. MRS. GRANT OF KILGRASTON

—Sir Henry Raeburn

Dr. John Brown, one of Raeburn’s best friends, described his methods as follows: “Like Sir Joshua, Raeburn placed his sitters on a high platform, shortening the features and giving a pigeon-hole[414] view of the nostrils. The notion is that people should be painted as if they were hanging like pictures on the wall, a Newgate notion, but it was Sir Joshua’s. Raeburn and I have had good-humored disputes about this. I appealed to Titian, Van Dyck, etc., for my authorities; they always painted people as if they were sitting opposite to them, not on a mountebank stage, or dangling on the wall. This great question we leave to be decided by those who know best. His manner of taking his likenesses explains the simplicity and power of his heads. Placing his sitter on the pedestal, he looked at him from the other end of a long room, gazing at him intently with his great dark eyes. Having got the idea of the man, what of him carried farthest and ‘told,’ he walked hastily up to the canvas, never looking at his sitter, and put down what he had fixed in his inner eye; he then withdrew again, took another gaze and recorded his results, and so on, making no measurements.”

It is pleasant to catch a glimpse of a painter from another painter. Farington writes in his Diary, Sept 21, 1801:

“I next went to Mr. Raeburn, the portrait-painter most esteemed here who lives in York Place, New-Town. The house is excellent and built by himself. His show room is lighted from the top. His painting-room commands a view of the Forth and the distant mountains. Here I found pictures of a much superior kind to those I saw at Mr. Nasmyth’s. Some of Mr. Raeburn’s portraits have an uncommonly true appearance of nature and are painted with much firmness, but there is great inequality in his works. That which strikes the eye is a kind of Camera Oscura effect and from those pictures which seem to be his best, I should conclude he has looked very much at nature, reflected in a camera. Raeburn and Nasmyth do not associate much with other artists and hold themselves very high. Raeburn scarcely indeed with any of the profession. The prices of Raeburn are 100 guineas for a whole length, 50 guineas half length, 30 guineas for a kit-cat and 25 guineas for a three-quarter portrait.”

[416]

#### QUINTON McADAM.

Sir Henry Raeburn | Collection of
(1756–1823). | Mr. A. W. Erickson.

Raeburn was particularly happy in painting portraits of children, full of naturalness and charm and character; and it will be remembered that he chose for his contribution to the Royal Academy the lovely Boy with a Rabbit.

Collection of Mr. A. W. Erickson

QUINTON McADAM

—Sir Henry Raeburn

On a par with this masterpiece stands the portrait represented here of Quinton McAdam, a little boy twelve years old, the only son of Quinton McAdam of Craigengillan, Ayrshire, to whom Burns wrote an “Epistle” addressed to Mr. McAdam of Craigengillan. Quinton McAdam was born in Angus in 1805 and died in 1826 and this picture hung for over a hundred years at Camlarg, the dower-house of Craigengillan until it was purchased by the Agnews of London in 1926. The family still possess Raeburn’s receipt for payment for the picture.

The portrait is painted on canvas (61 × 47 inches), life-size, and represents the boy in light yellowish-brown trousers, dark jacket, and white, ruffled shirt. The light shines beautifully on his satiny, blonde hair. His eyes are violet blue.

#### MARY HORNECK.

(The Jessamy Bride.)

John Hoppner | Collection of
(1758–1810). | Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft.

This canvas (29 × 24½ inches), a portrait of Mrs. Gwyn, better known as Mary Horneck, Oliver Goldsmith’s “Jessamy Bride,” remained in the possession of the Gwyn family until it was sold at Christie’s in 1889. Subsequently it passed into the Collection of Mr. Henry G. Marquand and thence into the home of Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft in Cincinnati.

[417]

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Charles P. Taft

MARY HORNECK “THE JESSAMY BRIDE”

—John Hoppner

[418]

The “Jessamy Bride” appears in a low-cut, white dress with blue sash and a white cap with a peacock-blue bow and tied under her chin with a narrow, black ribbon, or cord. A black spotted scarf is thrown around her waist and draped over her arms. The complexion is rosy, the eyes are brown, and the hair is powdered à la mode.

Mary Horneck was the daughter of Captain Kane William Horneck of the Royal Engineers and Hannah Mangles, known in her day as “the Plymouth Beauty.” Both were painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Captain Horneck died in 1755, leaving his widow in comfortable circumstances and she immediately removed with her three children, Charles, Mary, and Catherine, to London. About 1769 the Hornecks became acquainted with Oliver Goldsmith, who had three years before that date written The Deserted Village, which he dedicated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, then President of the Royal Academy. Goldsmith soon found appropriate names for the Horneck children. Mary was the “Jessamy Bride”; Catherine was “Little Comedy” and Charles was the “Captain in Lace.” They are all three mentioned in Goldsmith’s acceptance to a dinner given by Dr. Baker to the Hornecks and to which the Horneck girls sent an invitation to Goldsmith in rhyme. Goldsmith’s reply was as follows:

“Your mandate I got,
You may all go to pot,
Had your senses been right
You’d have sent before night;
As I hope to be saved,
I put off being shaved;
For I could not make bold
While the matter was cold,
To meddle in suds,
Or to put on my duds;
So tell Horneck and Nesbitt
And Baker and his bit,
And Kauffman beside
And the Jessamy Bride,
And the rest of the crew,
The Reynoldses too,
Little Comedy’s face,
And the Captain in Lace—
(By the bye, you may tell him[419]
I have something to sell him)—
Tell each other to rue
Yon Devonshire crew
For sending so late
To one of my state.
But ’tis Reynold’s way
From Wisdom to stray
And Angelica’s[36] whim
To be frolick like him;
But alas! your good worships, how could they be wiser
When both have been spoiled in to-day’s Advertiser?”

It was after Goldsmith’s death that Mary Horneck married Col. Gwyn of the 16th Dragoons, who eventually became an equerry to the King. On his appearance at Court, Fanny Burney noted that “Colonel Gwyn is reckoned a remarkably handsome man and he is husband of the beautiful eldest daughter of Mrs. Horneck.” Of Mary Horneck, now Mrs. Gwyn, Fanny Burney wrote in 1788, she was “as beautiful as the first day I saw her; all gentleness and softness;” and a year later, as “soft and pleasing and still as beautiful as an angel.”

Mrs. Gwyn became a Woman of the Bedchamber to Queen Charlotte and died in London in 1840, at the age of eighty-seven.

Catherine Horneck (“Little Comedy”) married in 1771 the artist, Henry William Bunbury. Their son, Charles John Bunbury was painted at the age of eight or nine, by Sir Joshua Reynolds.

John Hoppner born in Whitechapel, London, of German parents, in 1758, was a follower of Sir Joshua Reynolds. He exhibited at the Royal Academy and became a Court-Painter and a rival of Lawrence. Hoppner married in 1782 the daughter of Mrs. Wright, the American sculptress and maker of wax-works, who often sat to him as a model. Hoppner exhibited his first picture at the Royal Academy in 1780; and, through the patronage of the Prince of Wales, became a fashionable portrait-painter. After the death of Gainsborough and Reynolds, Hoppner and Lawrence commanded the field of art. Hoppner’s charming canvases, which are very characteristic of the period, are gaining in vogue day by day and bring very large prices.

[420]

#### ELIZA FARREN, COUNTESS OF DERBY.

Sir Thomas Lawrence | Collection of
(1769–1830). | Mr. J. P. Morgan.

Lawrence was only a young man of twenty-one when he sent to the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1790 this portrait of Miss Farren, which was catalogued as The Portrait of an Actress.

The picture, oils on canvas (80 × 57 inches), shows the graceful young woman walking in a beautiful English park with a blue sky overhead, and who has paused for a moment. She wears an ivory-white, satin cloak trimmed with brown fur over a soft white muslin gown. Her gloved left hand is holding a large muff on which is a blue bow.

The picture was very much criticized. On hearing many adverse opinions, Miss Farren wrote to Lawrence:

“One says it is so thin in the figure that you might blow it away; another that it looks broke off in the middle; in short, you must make it a little fatter at all events diminish the bend you are so attached to, even if it makes the picture look ill, for the owner of it is quite distressed about it at present. I am shocked to tease you and dare say you wish me and the portrait in the fire; but as it was impossible to appease the cries of friends, I must beg you to excuse me.” The owner Miss Farren refers to was most probably Lord Derby.

At the death of Eliza, Countess of Derby, the portrait became the property of her daughter, Mary Margaret, wife of Thomas, second Earl of Wilton. From her descendant, Lord Wilton, the picture passed into the Collection of Mr. Ludwig Neumann of Manchester, and thence into possession of Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, from whom it was inherited by his son.

Collection of Mr. J. P. Morgan

ELIZA FARREN, COUNTESS OF DERBY

—Sir Thomas Lawrence

This picture is very well known by the famous engraving by Bartolozzi, published in 1792, and re-issued in colors in 1797. On the death of Lady Derby in March, 1797, the Earl of Derby married, two months later, the subject of this portrait, to whom he had long been attentive. In the Farington Diary, under date of October 15, 1797, we read:

“Miss Farren (the actress afterwards Lady Derby) was bridesmaid[422][421] to Lady Charlotte Stanley (Lord Derby’s daughter). Lord Derby’s attachment to Miss Farren is extraordinary. He sees her daily and always attends the play when she performs. When she came to Knowsley her mother was with her, so careful she is of appearances.”

And again on May 20, 1797: “Lady Gage told Hoppner that when Lady Derby (Miss Farren the actress recently married to Lord Derby) was presented, the Queen advanced to her, which is a great compliment.”

Eliza Farren, born in 1759, was the daughter of George Farren, a surgeon and an apothecary of Cork, who went on the stage and attained a little success. His wife and daughters also followed him and, consequently, Eliza was brought up in the theatre. She played juvenile parts in Bath, acting with her family, and often sang between the acts. At the age of fifteen she appeared in Liverpool as Rosetta in Love in a Village and soon afterwards as Lady Townly in The Provoked Husband. In 1777 she made her London début at the Haymarket as Miss Hardcastle in She Stoops to Conquer with great success and for many years she was the favorite actress of the Haymarket and of Drury Lane. When the charming Mrs. Abington left Drury Lane in 1782, Miss Farren was accepted as her successor. Miss Farren’s specialty was the fine and fashionable lady and her big part was Lady Townly. She was greatly admired in the rôles of Lady Fanciful in The Provoked Wife; Berinthia in the Trip to Scarborough; Belinda in All in the Wrong; Angelica in Love for Love; Elvira in The Spanish Friar and also in the Shakesperian parts of Juliet and Olivia in Twelfth Night.

Thomas Lawrence was born in Bristol in 1769 and spent his early years in Devizes, where his father was proprietor of the Black Bear Inn. Very early the boy showed remarkable talent for drawing portraits in crayons. He was so successful that he went to Bath, took a studio, and began his remarkable career which reached its climax when he became the foremost portrait-painter in England.

“In 1787 the wish of Lawrence’s heart was realized, and we find the young painter, then eighteen, established in rooms in what was then[423] known as Leicester Fields—the present Leicester Square. He was accompanied to London by his father and on the thirteenth of September of that year he was admitted as a student of the Royal Academy. Armed with a letter of introduction from Prince Hoare, one of Lawrence’s Bath patrons, a member of the Dilettanti Society and Secretary for Foreign Correspondence to the Royal Academy, Lawrence obtained an interview with Sir Joshua Reynolds, and as a specimen of his ability and artistic skill he took to the President an oil-portrait of himself, painted in 1786. He was kindly received by the courtly old Sir Joshua, who praised his work and spoke most encouragingly to the young artist. “You have been looking at the Old Masters, I see,” he said, “but my advice is this: Study Nature! Study Nature!”

Three years later the young artist, who was extremely handsome and “romantic” in appearance, exhibited his picture of Miss Farren at the Royal Academy, which attracted much attention.

In 1791 Lawrence made a drawing of a much more beautiful subject, Emma, Lady Hamilton, from which a print was engraved.

“Hoppner who was ten years older than Lawrence,” writes Lord Ronald Sutherland Gower, “had been for some time the favorite painter of George, Prince of Wales, with the result that half the smart ladies of the town sat to him. But the King, who allowed the Queen’s and Princess Amelia’s portraits to be painted by Lawrence, became so much interested in him, that, on the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds in February, 1792, he decided that the young painter, then not twenty-three years of age and not yet a full member of the Academy, should be appointed to the post of Painter-in-Ordinary, an office that had been filled by the late President. ‘Never perhaps, in the country,’ writes Redgrave, in his account of Lawrence, ‘had a man so young, so uneducated, so untried in his art, advanced as it were per saltum to the honors and emoluments of the profession.’ The King’s favorite painter was the American, Benjamin West, Sir Joshua’s successor in the Presidential Chair, and Windsor was filled with his historical pictures, which, although once valuable, would not now fetch even a modest sum if they were sold at Christie’s.”

About 1790 Lawrence removed to Old Bond Street, installing himself[424] in a handsome apartment with his friend, Farington, as his secretary.

Lawrence tried to paint imaginary and historical pictures, but it soon was evident that portraiture was his forte. The death of Opie in 1807 and of Hoppner in 1810, left him without a rival. On the death of Benjamin West in 1820, Lawrence was unanimously elected President of the Royal Academy. Fuseli, a little dissatisfied, exclaimed: “Well! well! since they must have a face-painter to reign over them, let them take Lawrence; he can at least paint eyes!” The period between 1820 and 1830 (when Lawrence died) is practically a “Lawrence Age.” Sir Thomas painted everybody of note from George IV and the Duke of Wellington to fashionable ladies of no particular distinction save their wealth. His full-length portrait of George IV in his Coronation robes was so frequently copied and given by the King to his friends that nearly every Royal Collection in Europe can show a replica.

The spirit of the age was certainly expressed in Lawrence’s portraits. We have only to look at such portraits as the Countess of Blessington (Wallace Gallery), Lady Peel (Frick Collection), Lady Dover and her Son, and La Duchesse de Berri to realize how true this is. These ladies look as if they had stepped from the pages of Akermann’s Repository.

It is always interesting to learn what an artist has to say about his own work. To Mrs. Jameson, Lawrence wrote the following:

“My thoughts have almost invariably been devoted to Sir Joshua, and, generally, to the Italian School—Raphael, Correggio, Titian, even Parmigiano. An admirer of the very finest works of Van Dyck, and acknowledging the consistent ability of his pencil, I have been less his votary than, perhaps, hundreds since his time, of distinguished taste and talent (Gainsborough, for instance), to whose judgment in other cases I should justly bend. Rubens has been infinitely more the object of my admiration; but, as you know, presents very little as example for portrait-painting.

“Sir Joshua continues to be more and more my delight and my surprise. Rembrandt has another and still higher place in my affection.[425] In my men, then, I have thought of both, and of Titian and of Raphael, as the subjects approached their style. In women, of Sir Joshua, Raphael, Parmigiano, and Correggio. In children, of Sir Joshua and the two latter. In my portraits of Kemble and of Mrs. Siddons, of the highest Italian School.”

In 1825 the King of France gave Lawrence the Cross of the Legion d’honneur. Lawrence died in 1830, unmarried, a fashionable “man about town,” courted, admired, and not unlike Lord Byron, in some respects. Lord Gower says:

“That his fame underwent a marked decline during the half-century after his death in this country cannot be doubted; but within the last few years a reaction has set in, which is tending to place him again in the forefront of our greatest portrait-painters.

“Both as a man and as an artist Lawrence was impressionable, and in his work was entirely influenced by the spirit of his period, a period of affectation that frequently bordered upon vulgarity. If Lawrence’s art in portraiture had been genius instead of talent of the highest order, he would have created a public taste instead of slavishly following that set by the Court or Society of his day. As it was, his work was the ultimate expression of the curtain and column school of portraiture, and his success set a fashion that was followed for years afterwards by innumerable portrait-painters. These, in imitating the style, missed the spirit and perception by which Lawrence, trammelled as he was by the absurdities of dress and conventionality of attitude and surroundings, was enabled to place upon his canvases some suggestion of the actual identity of his sitters. And it was not until the advent of George Frederick Watts and the late Sir John Everett Millais that the effects of the imitation of the obvious points of Lawrence’s style finally disappeared from English portraiture.

“Lawrence’s chief defect was that he turned his art too much into a trade; he would have attained a far higher position had he contented himself with painting half the people he did, and his name would have stood on a higher pinnacle in the Temple of Fame. During the last twenty years of his life he painted but little more, as a rule, than the face of his sitter, the rest of the picture being completed by his[426] pupils; or rather his assistants. This practice has, of course, lessened the value of his portraits.

“These are grave failings; but on the other side, his great merits are incontestable and weigh the scale in his favor. Where, except among the very greatest of those whose fame chiefly rests on their excellence in the art of portrait-painting—such giants as Titian, Rubens, Rembrandt, Velasquez, and Van Dyck, Reynolds, and Gainsborough—can finer work be shown them than in such astonishing likenesses as those of Lawrence when at his best; and the master must be judged by his master-works. His style, when once he had adopted it, had the great merit of being a style of its own, of much refinement and excellence in drawing; although his work was, perhaps, too smooth in technique and somewhat affected in feeling. His paintings have lasted, whereas those of many of his contemporaries are mere wrecks and shadows of their former selves; for he attempted no experiments in glazings and pigments, as was Sir Joshua’s wont, and his pictures are, as a rule, as fresh as when they were painted.

“I believe it only fair to place him immediately beneath our three greatest portrait-painters,—that immortal trio, Reynolds, Gainsborough, and Romney: at a time when Hoppner, Opie, and Raeburn were all working, this is high praise.”

#### PINKIE.

Sir Thomas Lawrence | Collection of the late
(1769–1830). | Mr. Henry E. Huntington.

This radiant portrait is generally considered to be Lawrence’s masterpiece. How fresh, how sweet, how breezy it is! “Pinkie” stands on a high hill with a beautiful low-lying landscape of wooded hills spreading out and undulating towards the distant horizon. The sky is dappled with swiftly moving clouds and the morning breeze is blowing pretty freshly, for Pinkie’s light gown is rippling with it and the strings of her bonnet are fluttering and flapping rather violently. These ribbons are pink, matching the sash which holds the diaphanous,[428][427] white gown in place. Pinkie’s eyes are brown, large, and lustrous and her brown hair is touzled by the wind; but she looks at us so sweetly and brightly that we love her at first sight. How daintily her little slippered foot is planted on the flower-sprinkled turf! Her airy, youthful, billowy figure suggests the idea of Spring beneath whose every footstep flowers instantly appear in full bloom.

Collection of the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington

PINKIE

—Sir Thomas Lawrence

How far she has come! Do we not see her home in the distance on the right, encircled by a crescent of leafy trees and with a wide driveway through the clearing?

“Pinkie’s” name was Sarah Moulton-Barrett, and she was the only daughter of Charles Moulton, Esq., and his wife Elizabeth Barrett Moulton. Pinkie was born March 22, 1783, and the lovely child died at the age of twelve, the year in which this portrait was painted. It is interesting to note that Pinkie was the aunt of the famous poet, Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who was the daughter of Pinkie’s brother, Edward Moulton-Barrett of Coxhoe Hall, Durham, and Hope End, Hereford.

The portrait, oils on canvas (57½ × 39¾ inches), was painted in 1795 and was formerly in the Collection of Octavius Moulton-Barrett, Esq., Westover, Calbourne, Isle of Wight, and thence it passed to the Right Hon. Lord Michelham, K. C. V. O., London. A modern critic rapturously expresses what every one feels on looking at this enchanting picture:

“If ever canvas was instinct with life, this picture lives and breathes. If ever the vehicle of oil paint spread on canvas has caught the wind as it blows, the light that dances in a mischievous child’s eyes, the breath of life and joy in living, Lawrence, in this picture, achieved the miracle. You feel, as you look at it, that you could read small print by its light in the dead of night. The color of it is the color of sea-downs on a May morning; the joy of it is of the joy of the first warm day of Spring. And in the little girl’s graceful figure are comprised whatever things are lovely, whatever things are pure, to the minds of men.”

[429]

## INDEX

[Titles of Paintings in this book appear in italics.]

- Abbey, mediæval, 170
- Abel, Charles Frederick, 361
- Act of Supremacy, 244
- Adoration of the Kings (Gentile da Fabriano), 74, 77
- Adoration of the Lamb (Van Eycks), 157, 168
- Adoration of the Magi (Benvenuto di Giovanni), 12–16
- Adoration of the Magi (Botticelli), 58
- Adoration of the Magi (Fra Angelico), 37
- Adoration of the Magi (Memling), 174
- Adoration of the Shepherds (Mantegna), 104
- Adoration of the Virgin (Lippi), 46
- Age of Innocence (Reynolds), 340
- Agnolo Gaddi, 18
- Agony in the Garden (Raphael), 90
- Akermann’s Repository, 424
- Albert, Charles d’, 178
- Albertinelli, Mariotto, 24
- Albigenses, 262
- Albizzi family, 68
- Allegri, Antonio, 93, 99
- Alphonso, Duke of Ferrara, 99
- Altichiero Altichieri, 93, 98, 103, 104
- Ambassadors, The (Holbein), 250
- “Anacreon of Painting,” The, 277
- Anatomy Lesson, The (Rembrandt), 206
- Analysis of Beauty, Hogarth’s, 337
- Ancre, Marshall d’, 178
- André, Major John, 398
- Andrea d’Agnolo, 24
- Andrea del Castagno, 19
- Andrea del Sarto, 24
- Andrea di Cione (Orcagna), 18
- Andrea di Cione (Verrocchio), 23
- Andrea di Firenze, 18
- “Andrea senza errori,” 24
- Anemone, 174
- Angelo Allori, 24
- Angels, Fra Angelico’s, 32–34, 38
- Angels’ Heads (Reynolds), 338, 340
- Anglo-Norman painters, 333
- Anne of Austria, 176, 178, 194
- Anne, Lady de la Pole (Romney), 410
- Annunciation, The, 28, 30
- Annunciation, The (Masolino), 28
- Annunciation, Lily, 30
- Annunzio, D’, quoted, 121
- Antonello da Messina, 117, 124, 132
- Antonello di Giovanni degli Antoni, 124
- Antonio di San Gallo, 24
- Antonio Veneziano, 18, 19
- Antwerp School, 164, 166
- Apple, 126
- Arlequin, 281
- Armand-Dayot, quoted, 302
- Armida, 181
- Armida, Garden of, 181
- Armstrong, Sir Walter, quoted, 286, 340, 341, 385, 388, 406
- Army Plot, 194
- Arne, Dr., 331
- Arnolfo del Cambio, 28
- Arte de Medici e speziale, 17
- Asolo, 144
- Astrophel and Stella, 187–188
- Audran, Claude, 284
- Augsburg, 236

- Baccio della Porta, 24
- Bach, John Christian, 361
- Balen, Hendrik van, 164, 165, 181
- Baldovinetti, Alesso, 22, 23, 37, 48–51, 52, 70
- Baptistery doors, 18, 20, 52
- Barbizon School, 201
- Barry, Madame du, 312
- Bartolo di Fredi, 3
- Basaiti Marco, 118
- Bassano, Jacopo, 118
- Bastiani, Lazzaro, 118
- Bath, 348, 358, 361, 390, 422
- Battle of the Nile, 408
- Beatrice d’Este, 96, 107, 148, 150
- Beauvais tapestry, 306
- Beechey, Sir William, 337
- Bellini, Gentile, 98, 116, 117, 118, 119, 132
- Bellini, Giovanni, 98, 116, 117, 118, 119, 121, 124, 130–139, 151
- Bellini, Jacopo, 8, 98, 116, 117
- Bellini, Nicolosia, 97, 98
- Bembo, Pietro (Cardinal), 144
- Benci, Jacopo d’Antonio, 52
- Benvenuto di Giovanni, 3, 12–16
- Berenson, quoted, 8, 12, 36, 52, 62–63, 77, 83–84, 99, 103, 106, 122
- Bermudas, Plantation of the, 190
- Bernard di Betto, 74
- Bernardo da Canale, 122
- Berruguete, Pedro, 257
- Birds, Painters of, Dutch, 203
- Birds, Painters of, Italian, 19
- Billet-Doux, Le (Fragonard), 318
- Birth of Venus (Botticelli), 59, 61, 66
- Black Friars, 262
- Blanc, Charles, quoted, 166, 182
- Blount, Charles, Earl of Devonshire, 188
- Blue Boy, The (Gainsborough), 378–386
- Boccatis, Camillo, 78, 172
- Bode, Dr. Wilhelm, quoted, 207–208, 212, 228
- Bodegones, 258
- Bologna School, 98
- Bonfigli, Benedetto, 74, 77–78
- Bonvicino, Alessandro, 98
- Bordone, Paris, 121
- Borgia, Lucrezia, 99, 151
- Borgognone, 110
- Borgo San Sepolcro, 5, 9, 10, 22
- Borluut, Isabella, 157
- Bosch, Jerome, 164
- Botticelli, Sandro, 21, 23, 47, 48, 55–66, 82, 94, 334
- Boucher, François, 272, 304, 312, 316
- Boulton, William H., quoted, 366
- Boy with a Rabbit (Raeburn), 411, 416
- Bramante di Milano, 93
- Bramantino, 93
- Brancacci Chapel, 19, 31, 45, 46, 48
- Brancacci, Felice, 19, 31
- Brancacci frescoes, 19, 31
- Brandt, Isabella, 178
- Bredius, Dr., quoted, 217–218
- Brescia School, 98
- Bronzino, 24
- Brooke, Lord, 190
- Brown, Dr. John, quoted, 412
- Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 428
- Brueghel, “Hell-fire,” 165
- Brueghel, “Peasant,” 164
- Brueghel, “Velvet,” 165
- Bruges, School of, 157, 161 170
- Brunelleschi, 103
- Buisson, J., quoted, 120
- Buckingham, Duke of, 192, 195, 196
- Bull, The (Paul Potter), 201
- Bunbury, Charles John, 419
- Bunbury, Henry William, 419
- Burger, quoted, 201, 203, 227
- Burgundian Court, 158–160, 257
- Burgundy, Dukes of, 334
- Burnet, John, 382
- Burney, Fanny, quoted, 344, 419
- Buttall, Jonathan, 378–386
- Byron, quoted, 348
- Byzantine traditions, 3, 115

- Cadore, 137–142
- Cadore, Valley of, 146
- Caliari, Paolo, 99, 120
- Calonne, 252, 354
- Campanile (Giotto’s), 26
- Campbell, Thomas, 350
- Campin, Robert, 162, 169
- Canaletto, 121, 152
- Caprichos, Los (Goya), 170
- “Captain in Lace,” 418
- Caravaggio, 258
- Cardinal Albrecht as St. Hieronymus (Cranach), 251
- Cardinal Bembo, 144
- Cardinal Granvella, 201, 257
- Cardinal Quiroga (El Greco), 259
- Camargo, La (Lancret), 291–292
- Carnations, 25
- Carpaccio, Vittore, 118
- Cartwright, Mrs. Julia, quoted, 26, 39, 47–48, 69, 95, 150
- Castiglione, Baldassare, 90
- Caterina Cornaro (Titian), 143
- Caxton, William, 334
- Cazes, Pierre Jacques, 302
- Cenni dei Pepe, 17
- Cennino Cennini, 18, 26
- Champaigne, Philippe de, 278
- “Chaponnay Nattier,” 288
- Chardin, J. B. S., 277, 300–303, 316, 318
- Charles I (England), 164, 179, 182, 190, 192, 194, 195
- Charles II (England), 194, 195
- Charles V (Emperor), 161, 240, 243, 257
- Charles the Bold, 160, 161, 257
- Château de Steen, 179
- Cherries, 126
- Chinoiserie, 276, 284
- Christian Art, 3
- Christina of Denmark, 243
- Christus, Petrus, 162, 169–172
- Cimabue, 17, 26
- Cima da Conegliano, 118
- Civic Guard Banquet (B. van der Helst), 200
- Classic Architecture, 18, 31
- Clement VIII, 56
- Cleves, Anne of, 243
- “Cock-fighting Earl,” 400
- Coeck, Jerome, 164
- Coello, Alonzo Sanchez, 258
- Coleridge, quoted, 377
- Colonel St. Leger (Gainsborough), 388
- Columbine, 281, 284
- Columbine, The (Luine), 110
- Comédiens français, 284
- Compagnia di San Luca, 18
- Company of Capt. Roelof Bicker (B. van der Helst), 200
- Connecticut, 190
- Constable, John, 337
- Convent of San Marco (Florence), 37, 38
- Conversation-pieces, 199, 202
- Cook, Herbert F., quoted, 140
- Cooper, Samuel, 334
- Copal, François, 207–210
- Copal, Titia, 210
- Coques, Gonzales, 166
- Coronation of the Virgin (Lippi), 46
- Corporation pictures, 201
- Corésus and Callirhoé (Fragonard), 314, 316
- Cornaro, Caterina, 121, 143–145, 146
- Cornaro, Giorgio, 144, 146
- Correggio, 93, 99, 119
- “Correggio of Fruits and Flowers,” 203
- Cosimas and Damianus, 39–42
- Costa, Lorenzo, 93, 98, 99, 108
- Costumes, Eastern, 20
- Cotes, Francis, 337, 395
- Cottage Door, The (Gainsborough), 357
- Council of the Eastern and Western Churches, 20
- Countess of Coventry, 369
- Couperin, 331
- Court Beauties (Kneller), 336
- Court Beauties (Lely), 336
- Court of Mantua, 107
- Court of Milan, 94–95, 151
- Cowper Madonna, The Small (Raphael), 86–88
- Cowper Madonna of 1508 (Raphael), 84–86
- Coypel, Noel, 302
- Cranach, the Elder, Lucas, 251–252
- Cranach, the Younger, Lucas, 236
- Crivelli, Carlo, 98, 117, 125–130
- Crome, John, 337
- Cromwell, Oliver, 190, 334, 335
- Crowe and Cavalcaselle, quoted, 138
- Cust, Lionel, quoted, 138
- Cuyp, Aelbert, 201

- Daddi, Bernardo, 17, 18, 73
- Dædalus, 184–186
- Dædalus and Icarus (Van Dyck), 184
- Daisy, 174
- Danse, La (Watteau), 281
- Dante, 3, 32
- Davenport, The Hon. Mrs., 397–398
- David Garrick and His Wife (Hogarth), 336
- David, Gerard, 164
- David, Jacques Louis, 270
- Delany, Mrs., quoted, 376
- Delmé, Lady Betty, 337
- Derby, Earl of, 400, 420–422
- Desastres de la guerra, 270
- Deserted Village, The, 418
- Desportes, A. F., 277
- Desportes, Philippe, quoted, 186
- Deux Confidentes, Les (Boucher), 304
- Devereux, Penelope, 187
- Devereux, Walter, 187
- Diana, Viscountess Crosbie (Reynolds), 331, 337, 340, 346–347, 356
- Diderot, quoted, 276, 303
- Dirk Berck of Cologne (Holbein), 246
- Discourses on Art (Reynolds), 338
- Doelen pictures, 199, 222
- Doge Loredano (Giovanni Bellini), 132
- Dom-bild, Cologne, 235
- Domenichino, 138
- Domenic de Guzman, 262
- Domenico di Bartolo, 3
- Domenico Veneziano, 22
- Dominican Order, 262
- Donatello, 18, 103, 106
- Dosso Dossi, 99, 137
- Dou, Gerard, 202
- Drouais, F. H., 276, 310–314
- Duccio di Buoninsegna, 3, 4, 5, 9, 17
- Duchess of Argyll, 400
- Duchess of Devonshire, 331, 356, 358, 361, 371
- Duchess of Ferrara, 107
- Duchess of Gloucester, 366
- Duchess of Marlborough, 375
- Duke of Gloucester, 369
- Duke of Mantua, 178
- Dulwich, Mrs. Siddons as Tragic Muse at, 353–356
- Duo, The (Lancret), 294
- Duomo, 26
- Dürer, Albrecht, 137, 200, 235, 236, 237–238
- Dürer, etchings by, 238
- Dürer, portraits by, 237
- Dürer, wood-cuts by, 238
- “Dutch Hogarth,” The, 203
- Dutch School, 165
- Duveen, Sir Joseph, 378
- Dyck, Sir Anthony Van, 112, 164, 181–196, 300, 335

- Edward VI (England), 240
- Eighteenth Century French women, 288
- Eighteenth Century Society, 229–231
- El Greco, 258, 259–262
- Eliza Farren (Sir Thomas Lawrence), 420
- Elizabeth Bas (Rembrandt), 212
- Elizabeth Hamilton, Countess of Derby, 398–402
- Embarquement pour l’Île de Cythère (Watteau), 281, 314
- Emma, Lady Hamilton (Romney), 403–410, 423
- Erasmus, 242
- Erasmus, quoted, 244
- Ercole of Ferrara, Duke, 150
- Essex, Earl of, 187, 190
- Este family, 181
- Este, Lionello, 168
- Evangelista di Pian di Meleto, 89
- Everdingen, Allart Van, 217–218
- Everdingen, Cornelius Van, 217–218
- Eyck, Hubert van, 157, 160, 200
- Eyck, Jan van, 157, 158, 160, 170, 200, 286

- Fabrics, Oriental, 10
- Fabritius, Carel, 202, 227, 231
- Fantin-Latour, 303
- Farington Diary, quoted, 340–341, 344, 352, 380, 414, 420, 421
- Farren, Miss, 400, 420–422
- “Father of His Country, The,” 20
- “Father of Painters,” 97
- Faure, Élie, quoted, 262, 282, 302
- Feast of the Gods (Bellini), 137
- Feast of the Pheasant, 159–160
- Feast of the Rosary (Dürer), 238
- Featherstonehaugh, Sir Henry, 406
- Ferrarese School, 98
- Fête Champêtre, Une (Pater), 296
- Fête Galante, Une (Pater), 298
- Fêtes galantes, 276, 284, 292
- Fierens-Gevaert, quoted, 169
- Filipepi, Alessandro di Mariano, 56
- Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, 74
- Fischer, John Christian, 361
- Fisherman Presenting the Ring of St. Mark to the Doge (Paris Bordone), 121
- “Flemish Fra Angelico,” The, 174
- Flemish Painting, 161, 162
- Flemish School, 157
- Floating Feather, The (M. d’Hondecoeter), 203
- Floreins, Jan, 174
- Florentine School, 17–72
- Flower painters, 203
- Flowers (Memling), 174
- Fly represented, 128, 169
- Fondaco dei Tedeschi, 118, 119, 152, 238
- Fontainebleau, 24
- Foppa, Vincenzo, 93
- Fourment, Helena, 179
- Fountain in the Park, The (Hubert Robert), 322
- Fox, Charles James, 342, 377
- Fra Angelico, 19, 20, 32–42, 50, 76, 78, 103, 334
- Fra Bartolommeo, 24, 89
- Fra Filippo Lippi, 20, 22, 23, 42–48, 58, 334
- Fra Giovanni da Fiesole, 19, 37
- Fragonard, J. H., 272, 314–320
- Francesco di Stefano, 22
- Francesco Sassetti and His Son Teodoro (Ghirlandaio), 72
- Francia, Francesco, 93, 98, 99, 107–108
- Franciabigio, 24
- Francis I, 24
- Franciscans, Order of, 6
- Franconian School, 236
- Frans, Robert, 235
- Frantz, Henri, quoted, 324
- Frederick the Great, 291, 296
- French women of the Eighteenth Century, 288
- Friars Minor, Order of, 6
- Friedländer, Max J., quoted, 168, 176, 228
- Fromentin, quoted, 207
- Fruit, 126
- Fry, Roger, quoted, 128
- Fuggers, The, 236
- Fulcher, quoted, 386
- Fuller, quoted, 196
- Fuseli, quoted, 424
- Fyt, Jan, 165

- Gabriel, Angel, 28, 30, 32, 34
- Gabriel, the Announcing Angel (Fra Angelico), 32
- Gainsborough, Thomas, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333, 337, 357–392, 394, 426
- Gandy, William, 338
- Garden Scenes, 320
- Garrick, David, 348, 350, 361
- “Gates of Paradise,” 52
- Gautier, Théophile, quoted, 38, 229
- General Nicolas Guye (Goya), 270
- General Philip Honywood (Gainsborough), 386
- Genre painting, Dutch, 201
- Gentile da Fabriano, 10, 16, 20, 31, 73, 74–77, 98, 103, 104, 116, 117, 157, 168
- Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire (Gainsborough), 372–378
- Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire (Reynolds), 356
- Gerardo, 19
- Ghiberti, Lorenzo, 18, 20, 31, 52, 103
- Ghirlandaio, Domenico, 23, 61, 66–72, 82, 164, 194
- Ghirlandaio, Ridolfo, 70
- Gillot, Claude, 281, 284, 292
- Giorgio Cornaro (Titian), 146
- Giorgione, 99, 117, 118, 119, 121, 140, 142
- Giotto di Bordone, 4, 6, 10, 17, 25–28, 74
- Giotteschi, The, 18
- Giovanna degli Albrizzi, 61, 68–69
- Giovanna Tornabuoni (Ghirlandaio), 66
- Giovanni Antonio da Canale, 121
- Giovanni da Milano, 18
- Girolamo di Benvenuto, 3
- Gisze, Georg, 247
- Giuliano de’ Medici (Botticelli), 55–61
- Gli Asolani, 144
- Gobelins, 306
- Goes, Hugo van der, 163
- Golden Fleece, Knights of the, 159
- “Goldini of Painters, The,” 122
- Goldsmith, Oliver, 418
- Goldsmith, Oliver, verse by, 418–419
- Goldsmiths, 18, 411
- Goncourts, de, quoted, 284, 314
- Gonzaga, Marchese Francesco, 103
- Gonzaga, Vincenzo, 178
- Gordon Riots, Lord George, 342
- Gothic Art, 3, 4
- Gothic Style, 179
- Gower, Lord, quoted, 331, 341, 353, 380, 395, 423, 425
- Gourd, 126
- Goya y Lucientes, 258, 270–272, 302
- Goyen, Jan van, 201
- Gozzoli, Benozzo, 16, 20, 78
- Graces Decorating a Terminal Figure of Hymen (Reynolds), 340
- Graham, Dr., 404
- Gravelot, Hubert, 358
- Great Fire of London (1666), 182, 334
- Great Seal of England, 334
- Greco, El, 258, 259–262
- Greuze, J. B., 277, 306–310, 314
- Greville, the Hon. Charles Francis, 403
- Grey, Lady Jane, 240
- Grisebach, August, quoted, 394
- Guardi, Francesco, 122, 152
- Guido da Siena, 3
- Guiffrey, Jean, quoted, 300
- Guild of Doctors and Apothecaries, 17
- Guild of St. Luke, 17–18, 19
- Gunning, Elizabeth, 369, 400
- Gunning, Maria, 369, 400
- Gunnings, The, 366

- Hals, Frans, 200, 202, 220–224
- Hamilton, Sir William, 406
- Hampden, John, 190, 194
- Hanseatic League, 246
- Harlot’s Progress, The (Hogarth), 336
- Hart, Emma, 396, 403
- Harvest Waggon, The (Gainsborough), 389–390
- Hautecœur, Louis, quoted, 316, 320
- Hayman, Francis, 358
- Heaton, Mrs., quoted, 238
- Heem, Jan Davidsz de, 203
- Heine, 235
- Helst, B. van der, 200
- Henri de la Pasture, 168
- Henri IV (Navarre), 176, 191, 192
- Henrietta, Duchesse d’Orléans, 194, 195
- Henry VIII (England), 240, 243, 334
- Herrera, Francisco the Elder, 258
- Hervey, Lady, quoted, 376
- Hilliard, Nicholas, 334
- Hobbema, Meindert, 202
- Hogarth, William, 236–237
- Holbein, Hans the Elder, 236
- Holbein, Hans the Younger, 235, 236, 240–250, 330, 334, 335
- Holy Conversation, 130
- Hon. Mrs. Davenport, The (Romney), 397
- Hon. Mrs. Graham, The (Gainsborough), 358
- Hon. Mrs. Grant of Kilgraston (Raeburn), 411
- Hondecoeter, Melchior d’, 203
- Honywood, General Philip, 386, 389
- Hoogh, Pieter de, 202, 226–227
- Hoppner, John, 333, 337, 361, 380, 381, 419, 423, 424, 426
- Horneck, Catherine, 418, 419
- Horneck, Charles, 418
- Horneck, Mary, 416–419
- Hudson, Jeffrey, 195–196, 335
- Hudson, Thomas, 338
- Hudibras, 336
- Huet, J. B., 276
- Humphrey, Osias, quoted, 363
- Huysum, Jan van, 203

- Ibn Batuta, 5
- Icare, poem, 186
- Icarus, 184–186
- Invocation à l’Amour, L’ (Fragonard), 314
- Iris, 174
- Isabella d’Este, 107
- Isabella of Mantua, 82
- Italian Comedy, 281, 284
- Italianate Flemings, 164

- Jacobins, 262
- Jacopo da Pontormo, 24
- James I (England), 334, 335
- Jardinière, La Belle (Raphael), 86, 89, 90
- Jasmine, 25, 31
- Jean de Dinteville (Holbein), 350
- Jermyn, Lord, 195
- Jerusalem Delivered (Tasso), 181
- Jessamy Bride, The (Hoppner), 416–419
- John Walter Tempest (Romney), 392
- Jordaens, Jacob, 165
- Judith with Head of Holofernes (Mantegna), 107
- Juno Ludovisi, 138
- Jupiter and Calisto (Poussin), 277
- Justi, Carl, quoted, 266

- Kauffman, Angelica, 408, 419
- Kells, Book of, 333
- Kemble, Charles, 348
- Kemble, Fanny, 348
- Kemble, John Philip, 348, 350
- Kemble family, 348
- Keppel, Admiral, 338, 342
- Keppel, the Hon. Frederick, 368
- Keppel riots, 342
- Kit Kat Club, 336
- Kitty Fisher (Reynolds), 340
- Kneller Godfrey, 336
- Knollys, Lettice, 187

- Labille-Guiard and Two Pupils, Madame (Labille-Guiard), 324–326
- Lace-Maker, The (Jan Vermeer), 228
- Lady Betty Delmé (Reynolds), 337
- Lady Betty Hamilton (Reynolds), 402
- Lady Cockburn and Her Children (Reynolds), 340, 351
- Lady Derby, Eliza Farren (Lawrence), 420
- Lady Derby, Elizabeth Hamilton (Romney), 333, 398–402
- Lady Duncannon, 377
- Lancret, Nicolas, 276, 291–296, 330
- Landscape, first Italian, 39
- Landscape painters, Dutch, 201
- Last Supper (Leonardo da Vinci), 95
- Laud, Archbishop, 190, 194
- Laughing Cavalier (Frans Hals), 222
- Laughing Mandolin Player, The (Frans Hals), 224
- Lavinia Fenton (Hogarth), 336
- Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 337, 352, 412, 419, 420–428
- Lawrence, Sir Thomas, quoted, 424–425
- League of Cambrai, 144
- LeBrun, Charles, 277
- LeBrun, Vigée, 277, 326, 408
- Leicester, Earl of, 187
- Lely, Sir Peter, 235–236
- Lemké, quoted, 231–232
- Le Nôtre, 138, 322
- Leonardo da Vinci, 21, 23, 24, 82, 89, 106, 110, 151
- Leonardo da Vinci, quoted, 18, 94,
- Leslie and Taylor, quoted, 344, 350–351,
- Liberale, 93
- Libri, Girolamo dai, 93
- Lilies, 25, 30, 31
- Line of Beauty, Hogarth’s, 337
- Lippi, Fra Filippo, 44
- Lippi, Filippino, 23, 47, 94
- Lippo Memmi, 3
- “Little Comedy,” 418, 419
- Little Dutch Masters, 201, 202, 227
- Lochner, Meister Stephan, 235
- Longhi, Pietro, 122
- Lord Glendee (Raeburn), 412
- Lord Ligonier (Reynolds), 389
- Lorenzetti, Ambrogio, 3, 9
- Lorenzetti, Pietro, 3, 9
- Lorenzo da Pavia, 95, 107
- Lorenzo di Credi, 23, 82
- Lorenzo Monaco, 18
- Lorraine, Claude, 281, 303
- “Lost Duchess, The,” 372
- Lotto, Lorenzo, 121
- Louis XIII, 176–180, 191, 192
- Louis XIII, King of France (Rubens), 176
- Lucas van Leiden, 200
- Lucrezia Buti, 22, 23, 44, 47
- Luini, Bernardino, 93, 110–112
- Lusignan, Jacques de, 143
- Luther, 238, 253
- Luxembourg Palace, 179

- Macnab, The (Raeburn), 412
- Madame Bonier de la Mosson (Nattier), 285
- Mademoiselle Helvetius (Drouais), 314
- Madonna, Cardellino, 24, 86, 89
- Madonna of the Chair (Raphael), 90
- Madonna and Child (Antonello da Messina), 124
- Madonna and Child (Alesso Baldovinetti), 48
- Madonna and Child (Bellini), 334
- Madonna and Child (Botticelli), 64
- Madonna and Child (Crivelli), 125
- Madonna and Child (Crivelli), 128
- Madonna and Child (Gentile da Fabriano), 74
- Madonna and Child (Giotto di Bordone), 25
- Madonna and Child (Perugino), 80
- Madonna and Child with Angels (Bonfigli), 77
- Madonna and Child with Angels (Memling), 172
- Madonna and Child with Saints and Angels (Matteo di Giovanni), 9
- Madonna and Child with Singing Cherubs (Mantegna), 107
- Madonna Enthroned with Saints (Raphael), 90, 92
- Madonna del Gran Duca (Raphael), 24, 86, 88, 89
- Madonna of the Magnificat (Botticelli), 58, 62
- Madonna della Stella (Fra Filippo Lippi), 42
- Madonna di San Sisto (Raphael), 90
- Madonna, costume of the, 10
- Madonna, flowers of the, 25, 30–31
- Madrigal, Roger Milès, 290
- Maes, Nicholas, 202
- Maintenon, Madame de, 275, 284
- Maître de Flémalle, 162, 169
- Majestas, The, 17
- Mall in St. James’s Park, The (Gainsborough), 364
- Mall, The, 331, 364–365
- Manet, 259
- Mantegna, Andrea, 93, 97, 98, 99, 104–107, 116
- Margaret of Austria, 257
- Margaret of York, 160
- Maria Walpole, Duchess of Gloucester, 366–372
- Marianne of Austria (Velasquez), 264
- Marie Antoinette, 290, 312
- Marie de’ Medici, 176, 178, 179, 191
- Market Cart (Gainsborough), 388
- Marquise de Baglion, La (Nattier), 288
- Marquise de Besons, La (Greuze), 208
- Marquise de la Fare, La (Fragonard), 320
- Marquise de Villemonble, La (Drouais), 310
- Marriage à la Mode (Hogarth), 336
- Marriage of St. Catherine (Memling), 174
- Marriage of the Virgin (Perugino), 82
- Mars and Venus (Botticelli), 59
- Martini, Simone, 4, 9
- Mary Horneck (Hoppner), 416
- Mary of Burgundy, 161
- Mary of Hungary, 257
- Mary, Queen of Scots, 240
- Mary Tudor, 335
- Masaccio, Tommaso, 18, 19, 31, 45, 46, 48, 157
- Masolino, Tommaso, 8, 19, 28–32
- Masolino da Panicale, 31
- Massys, Quentin, 164, 242
- Matisse, 303, 320
- Matteo da Siena, 10
- Matteo di Giovanni, 3, 9–12
- Maximilian, Emperor, 144, 150, 257
- Maximilian Sforza (Veneto), 148
- Medici, Cosimo de’, 20, 37, 39, 45, 168
- Medici, Giovanni de Bicci, 20
- Medici, Giuliano de’, 23, 55–61, 68
- Medici, Giulio de’, 56
- Medici, Lorenzo de’, the Magnificent, 21, 23, 24, 28, 58, 59, 61, 68, 72, 93, 94
- Medici, Piero de’, 21, 22, 56, 58
- Medici, The, 20–22
- Medici Palace (Riccardi), 45
- Meier Madonna (Holbein), 242
- Meister Wilhelm of Cologne, 161, 235
- Meistersinger, 236
- Melancthon, 238, 252
- Melozzo da Forli, 98
- Memling, Hans, 162, 172–176, 200
- Metsu, Gabriel, 166, 202
- Mezetin, 281, 284
- Michel, Emile, quoted, 206
- Michelangelo, 24, 70, 74, 77, 119, 121
- Mieris, Frans van, 202
- Mignon, Abraham, 203
- Milès, Roger, Madrigal by, 290
- Millais, Sir John Everett, 425
- Milton, John, 335
- Miniature painting, 157
- Miniature portrait-painters, 334
- Minorites of Siena, 5, 6
- Minotaur, 184
- Mierevelt, Michiel J., 201
- Mississippi Bubble, The, 275
- Mona Lisa (Leonardo da Vinci), 110
- Monet, Claude, 320
- Monkhouse, Cosmo, quoted, 125
- Morales, Luis de, 257
- More, Sir Thomas, 242, 244–246
- Moreelse, Paulus, 201
- Moretto da Brescia, 93, 98
- Moro, Antonio, 201, 257, 335
- “Moro, Il,” 21, 23, 82, 93, 106, 148–151
- Morone, Domenico, 93
- Moser, Mary, quoted, 382
- Moroni, Giambattista, 93, 98, 112
- Morysin, Sir Richard, 240
- Moulton-Barrett, Sarah, 428
- Mrs. Abington (Reynolds), 340, 422
- Mrs. Hardinge (Reynolds), 340
- Mrs. Siddons (Gainsborough), 350, 385
- Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse (Reynolds), 340, 347–356, 381
- Murano, Antonio da, 116, 117
- Murillo, 258
- Musical Instruments, 172
- Music Party (Pieter de Hoogh), 226
- Musidora (Gainsborough), 406
- Myrtle, 25
- Mytens, Daniel, 335

- Nasmyth, Alexander, 412, 414
- Nattier, Jean Marc, 276, 285–290, 312
- Nelli, Ottaviano, 76
- Nelly O’Brien, 340
- Nelson, Lord, 407, 408, 410
- Neroccio di Landi, 3
- Netherlands, Spanish and Austrian, 199
- New England Company, 190
- Niccolini Madonna, The (Raphael), 84–86
- Niccolo da Foligno, 78
- Night Watch (Rembrandt), 206, 207
- Noort, Adam van, 178
- Northcote, James, quoted, 342, 353
- North Italian School, 93–114
- Nuremburg, 236
- Nuzi, Allegretto, 73, 76

- Oils, 83, 117, 121, 124
- Old Lady Sealed in an Armchair (Rembrandt), 212
- Old Woman (Rembrandt), 212
- Olive branch, 31
- Oliver, Isaac, 334
- Oliver, Peter, 334
- Opie, John, 337, 424, 426
- Orcagna, 18
- Oriental Art and Sienese Art, 4–5
- Orléans, Duc d’ (the Regent), 92
- Orléans, Gaston d’, 178
- Orley, Bernard van, 164
- Ostade, Adriaen van, 202
- Oudry, J. B., 277, 312

- Pacheco, Francisco, 258
- Paduan School, 116
- Paget, John, quoted, 408
- Palette, Reynolds’s, 341
- Palma, School of, 119
- Palma Vecchio, 119, 121
- Palmer, Theophila, 344
- Paolo di Dono, 119
- Paolo di Giovanni Fei, 9
- “Parma Valasquez,” 266
- Parmigiano, 119
- Parliament, Long, 194
- Parliament, Short, 190, 194
- Parnassus (Mantegna), 107
- Parsifal, 235
- Paston, John, quoted, 160
- Pastry, curiosities in, 159–160, 161
- Pater, J. B. J., 276, 296–299, 330
- Pater, Walter, quoted, 115, 118
- Pears, 126
- Peg Woffington (Hogarth), 337
- Penelope Boothby (Reynolds), 340
- Pepito Costa y Bonella (Goya), 272
- Perspective, 31, 83
- Perugia, 74, 80, 89
- Perugia, School of, 78
- Perugino, 23, 61, 74, 78, 80–84, 89, 94
- Pesellino, Francesco, 22
- Philip the Fair (Austria), 161
- Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, 158
- Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, 157, 158, 159
- Philip IV, 258, 264, 266–268
- Philip IV, King of Spain (Velasquez), 266
- Pie, mammoth, 160
- Pier Francesco Fiorentino, 22, 70
- Piero della Francesca (Pier dei Franceschi), 10, 22, 74, 78, 82, 83
- Piero di Cosimo, 23, 24, 164
- Piero di Lorenzo, 23
- Pierrot, 281
- Pink Boy (Gainsborough), 384
- Pinkie (Sir Thomas Lawrence), 426–428
- Pintoricchio, Bernard, 74, 89
- Pisanello (Antonio Pisano), 8, 93, 98, 99–104
- “Plymouth Beauty, The,” 418
- Poliziano, Angelo (Politian), 28, 59, 69
- Pollaiuolo, Antonio, 22, 23, 48, 52
- Pollaiuolo, Piero, 22, 51–54
- Pomegranate, 78
- Pompadour, Madame de, 276, 290, 300, 304, 306, 310, 312
- “Poor Man of Assisi, The,” 6
- Pope, Alexander, 336
- Popish Plot, The, 196
- Portinari, Tommaso, 164
- Portiuncula, The, 6
- Portrait of a Carthusian Monk (Petrus Christus), 169
- Portrait of a Lady (Luini), 110
- Portrait of a Lady (Roger van der Weyden), 166
- Portrait of a Man (Albrecht Dürer), 237
- Portrait of an Officer (Frans Hals), 220
- Portrait of a Young Gentleman (Memling), 174
- Portrait of a Young Lady (Piero Pollaiuolo), 51
- Portrait of a Young Man (Botticelli), 62
- Portrait of a Young Officer (Rembrandt), 207
- Potter, Paul, 201
- Pourbus, Frans, 165
- Pourbus, Pieter, 165
- Poussin, Nicolas, 277–281, 303
- Praise of Folly, Erasmus, 242
- Presentation in the Temple (Rembrandt), 206, 219
- Primavera (Botticelli), 59–60, 61, 66
- Primitives, Dutch, 200
- Primitives, Flemish, 162–163, 169, 200
- Prince Edward of England (Holbein), 240
- Procession of Corpus Christi of 1496 (Gentile Bellini), 117–118
- Puritan Party, 190

- Queen Christina of Sweden, 90
- Queen Elizabeth, 334, 335
- Queen Henrietta Maria, 191–195, 196, 335
- Queen Henrietta Maria with Jeffrey Hudson and a Monkey (Sir Anthony Van Dyck), 191
- Quin, 361, 390
- Quinton McAdam (Raeburn), 416

- Raeburn, Sir Henry, 337, 411–416
- Raibolini, Francesco, 108
- Rake’s Progress, The, 336
- Rameau, 294, 331
- Ramsay, Allan, 338
- Raphael, 24, 70, 73, 74, 82, 84–92, 98, 99, 121
- “Raphael’s Bible,” 89
- Ravensteyn, Jan van, 201
- Reformation, 235, 252
- Regent pictures, 199
- Reine de Chypre, La, 143
- Rembrandt, 200, 204–220, 231, 232
- Rembrandt, Titus, 206
- Renaissance, The, 28
- Renaissance in France, 161
- Renaissance in the Netherlands, 161
- Return of Spring, 59–60, 61
- Reymond, Marcel, quoted, 96, 110
- Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 84, 204, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333, 337–356, 360, 371, 394, 408, 412, 418, 423, 426
- Reynolds, Sir Joshua, quoted, 115, 179–180, 199–200, 280, 383
- Rhode Island, Colony of, 190
- Ribalta, Francisco de, 258
- Ribera, Jusefe, 258, 264
- Ricci, Seymour, quoted, 228–231
- Richelieu, Cardinal, 178, 194
- Rinaldo, 181
- Rinaldo and Armida (Sir Anthony Van Dyck), 181
- Robert, Hubert, 277, 316, 322
- “Robert des ruines,” 320
- Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick (Sir Anthony Van Dyck), 187–190, 195
- Roger de la Pasture, 163, 334
- Roger van der Weyden, 124, 162, 166–169, 170, 174, 235
- Rogers, Samuel, 92
- Roldt, Max, quoted, 402
- Romaunt de la Rose, 15, 334
- Romney, George, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333, 337, 341, 361, 394, 426
- Romney, George, quoted, 407
- Rooses, Max, 184
- Roses, 25, 31
- Rosselli, Cosimo, 23, 24, 82
- Royal Academy, 338, 354, 356, 360
- Rubens, Peter Paul, 164, 176–180, 181, 182, 272, 335
- Rucellai Madonna, 5, 17
- Ruisdael, Jacob, 202, 232
- Rushford, G. McNeil, quoted, 128
- Ruskin, quoted, 34, 119
- Ruysch, Rachel, 203

- Sachs, Hans, 236
- “Salvatore Rosa of the North,” 218
- Sano di Pietro, 9
- Sans Souci Palace, 291, 296
- Santi, Giovanni, 74, 89
- Sanuto, Marino, quoted, 150
- Sargent, John Singer, 259
- Saskia van Ulenburgh, 204, 207, 208
- Sassetta, 3, 5–9, 31
- Sassetti, Francisco, 72
- Sassetti, Roderigo, 69
- Sassetti, Teodoro, 72
- Savonarola, 24, 61
- Saxon School, 236, 252
- Say, Lord, 190
- Saybrooke, 190
- Scalpin, 281
- Scaramouche, 281
- Scene along the Adriatic Coast (Guardi), 152
- Schöngauer, Martin, 168, 235–236
- Scorel, Jan van, 201
- Sebastian del Piombo, 121
- Segna di Bonaventura, 3
- Sélincourt, Beryl de, quoted, 119–120, 134
- “Serena portraits, The,” 398
- Serinette, La (Chardin), 300
- Seymour, Jane, 240
- Sforza, Francesco, 243
- Sforza, Ludovico (“Il Moro”), 21, 23, 82, 93, 106, 148–151
- Sforza, Maximilian, 148–151, 243
- Siddons, Mrs., 84
- Sidney, Sir Philip, 187–188
- Sidney, Sir Philip, quoted, 188
- Siena, 3
- Siena, Cathedral, 16, 17
- Sienese Art, 4
- Sienese School, 3–16
- Signorelli, Luca, 74
- Simeon and Mary Presenting the Infant Christ in the Temple (Rembrandt), 214
- Simeon in the Temple (Rembrandt), 206, 219
- Simone Martini, 3, 9
- Simonetta, Vespucci, 24, 59, 60
- Simplicity (Reynolds), 346
- Singerie, 284
- Sir Thomas More (Holbein), 244
- Sistine Chapel, 24, 61, 70, 82
- Six, Burgomaster Jan, 204
- Small Cowper Madonna (Raphael), 86
- Smith, Nollekens, quoted, 362
- Sneyd, Charlotte, 397
- Sneyd, Honora, 398
- Snyders, Frans, 165
- Sortie of the Company of Captain Banning Cock (Rembrandt), 206
- Southwark Fair (Hogarth), 336
- Space Composition, 83
- Spagnoletto, Lo, 258
- Spencer, Countess of, 375
- Spencer, Earl of Althorp, 356, 361, 375, 378
- Spielmann, M. H., quoted, 347, 384
- Spinello, Aretino, 18
- Sposalizio (Raphael), 82
- Squarcione, Francesco, 97, 106, 116, 117, 125
- St. Cosimas and St. Damianus (Fra Angelico), 39
- St. Francis, 3, 6–8
- St. Francis and the Beggar (Sassetta), 5
- St. Francis (Ghirlandaio), 72
- St. Francis (Giotto), 6, 26
- St. Francis, panels, 6
- St. Jerome, 252
- St. Jerome (El Greco), 260
- St. Paul’s (London), Old, 182
- St. Ursula (Carpaccio), 118
- St. Ursula, Shrine of (Memling), 174
- Standard-Bearer, The (Rembrandt), 204
- Stanley, Edward Smith (Derby), 400
- Starnina, 19, 31, 257
- Steelyard (London), 246
- Steen, Jan, 202
- Stefano di Giovanni, 3, 5–9
- Stephens, F. G., quoted, 382
- Stevenson, Robert Louis, quoted, 411
- Stoffels, Hendrickje, 206
- Strafford, Earl of, 190, 194
- Strawberry Girl, The (Reynolds), 340, 342–346, 353, 394
- Strawberry Hill, 214, 219, 220, 331
- Style, Louis Quinze, 276, 310
- Style, Rubens, 179
- Suardi, Bartolommeo, 93
- Swabian School, 236
- Swanenburch, Jacob van, 204
- Syndics, The (Rembrandt), 207

- Taddeo di Bartolo, 3, 9
- Taddeo, Gaddi, 18
- Tagliapanni (Mononi), 112
- Taine, quoted, 115, 120, 142, 162–163
- Tasso, 181
- Tauromachia (Goya), 270
- Tempest, John Walter, 392–394
- Temple of Health, 404
- Teniers, David the Younger, 165
- Terborch, Gerard, 166, 202
- Theotocopoulos, Domenico, 258, 260–262
- Tiepolo, Giovanni Baptista, 121
- Tintoretto (Tintoret), 119
- Titian, 119, 137, 138, 140–147, 272
- Titian’s Schoolmaster (Moroni), 112
- Tiziano Vecello, 119, 142
- Tom Thumb, General, 192
- Tondo form, first use of, 47
- Tornabuoni, Giovanna, 66, 68
- Tornabuoni, Giovanni, 69, 70
- Tornabuoni, Lorenzo, 61, 68, 69
- Tornabuoni, Lucrezia, 21, 56, 68
- Tour, Maurice Quentin de la, 276
- Tournament (Giuliano de’ Medici), 59
- Tournament (Lorenzo de’ Medici), 59
- Travellers to the Far East, 5
- Trimmer, Rev. J. T., quoted, 380
- Triumph of Cæsar (Mantegna), 107
- Triumph of Galatea (Raphael), 90
- Troost, Cornelis, 203
- Tura, Cosimo, 93, 98
- Turner, J. W. M., 337

- Uccello, Paolo, 19, 20, 23, 74
- Ugolino da Siena, 3
- Umbrian School, 73–92
- Utrecht, Adriaen van, 165

- Vache qui se mire (Paul Potter), 201, 202
- Valentiner Dr., quoted, 208
- Van Eyck School, 163
- Van Loo, Carle, 276, 277, 304, 306, 312, 394
- Van Mander, quoted, 157
- Vanni, Andrea, 3
- Vanni, Lippo, 3
- Vannucci, Pietro, 74, 80
- Vargas, Luis de, 257
- Vasari, quoted, 17, 32, 36, 39, 51
- Vatican, 38, 82, 89, 121
- Vecchietta, Lorenzo, 3, 9, 15
- Veen, Otto van, 178
- Velasquez, 258, 264–268, 270, 272
- Velde, Adriaen van der, 201
- Venetian School, 115–153
- Veneto, Bartolommeo, 119, 148–151
- Veneziano, Bartolommeo, 119–151
- Veneziano, Domenico, 20, 74
- Venturi, Adolfo, quoted, 100
- Verhaaght, Tobias, 178
- Vermeer, Jan, 162, 202, 228–232
- Vermejo, Bartolomé, 257
- Vernet, Joseph, 322
- Veronese, Paolo, 10, 93, 99, 120
- Verrocchio, Andrea, 21, 22–23, 59, 82
- Veth, Dr. Jan, quoted, 214–216
- Villa Aldobrandini, 138
- Villa Ludovisi, 138
- Vincent, François Élie, 326
- Virgin and Child (Bellini), 134
- Virgin and Child (Titian), 140
- Virgin and Child with the Infant St. John and Angel (Francia), 107
- Virgin and Child with St. Lucy, St. Catherine, St. Peter and St. John the Baptist (Bellini), 130
- Virgin Appearing to St. Dominic (El Greco), 262
- Virgin of the Rocks (Leonardo da Vinci), 96
- Virgin Receiving the Divine Message (Fra Angelico), 34
- Virginia Government, 190
- Vision of St. Eustache (Pisanello), 102, 103
- Viti, Timoteo, 89, 108
- Vivarini, Antonio, 8, 116, 125
- Vivarini, Bartolommeo, 117
- Vydts, Jodocus, 157

- Waldegrave, Lady, 366
- Walpole, Charlotte, Countess of Dysart, 368
- Walpole, Edward, 366
- Walpole, Horace, 214, 219, 331, 333, 366, 368
- Walpole, Horace, quoted, 364, 368, 376, 400
- Walpole, Louisa (the Hon. Mrs. F. Keppel), 368
- Walpole, Maria, 366
- Walpole, Sir Robert, 366
- Ward, Humphrey, quoted, 332, 397
- Wars of the Roses, 333
- Watteau, Antoine, 275, 281–285, 294, 296, 314, 330
- Watts, George Frederick, 425
- Weenix, J. B., 203
- West, Benjamin, 423, 424
- Wilkie, Sir David, quoted, 412
- Wilkie, John, 337
- Wilson, Richard, 337
- Wiltshire, John, 389–390
- Winchester School, 334
- Wohlgemut, Michael, 236, 237
- Wolfram von Eschenbach, 235
- Woltman, Dr. Alfred, quoted, 244
- Wright, Mrs. (Patience), 419
- Wynants, Jan, 201

- Yellow Boy, The (Reynolds), 384
- Young, Col. G. F., quoted, 20, 21, 45–46, 56, 58, 59–60
- Young Girl (Greuze), 308
- Young Girl Reading a Letter (Greuze), 306

- Zeitblom, Bartholomäus, 236
- Zuccaro, Federigo, 334, 335
- Zurbaran, Francisco, 258

## FOOTNOTES:

[1] “The early Byzantine masters represented the Madonna’s garments enriched with lines of gold. Giotto and the early Florentine painters as a rule preferred to suggest a plain material, often of delicate color except when the Madonna was portrayed as Queen of Heaven. In their devotional pictures the Sienese masters used gorgeous gold and red, or white and gold fabrics. Some of the Giotteschi and perhaps Gentile da Fabriano inherited from Siena their love of representing splendid textiles. Later color effects were made more of a study and deeper, richer tones appeared; but simple materials were represented except among the Venetians, who frequently in their pictures of both sacred and profane subjects painted elaborate, richly colored fabrics. This cult of splendor reached its height in the Sixteenth Century under Paolo Veronese.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[2] “The incident of the Adoration of the Magi is related only in the Gospel of Saint Matthew, and there very briefly; but many legends grew up around the Magi and Kings from the East. The number of the Magi was at first indeterminate, but about the Fourth Century the number three became general. It was not until the Fifth and Sixth Centuries that the Magi became Kings and not until the Tenth Century were they represented as crowned Kings. The Magi were for the first time pictured as of different ages, an old man, a middle-aged man, and a young man, in an Eastern manuscript dating from about 550. During the Middle Ages the exact age of each was given—the eldest was sixty, the youngest twenty, and the other forty years old. Their names, the Latin forms of which were Jaspar—later Gaspard—Balthasar, and Melchior, first appeared in a Greek Sixth Century manuscript. A passage attributed to Bede, quoted in Male’s Religious Art in France, Thirteenth Century, states that ‘Melchior, an old man with long, white hair and a long beard, offered gold, symbol of the divine kingdom. The second, named Caspar, young and beardless, with a ruddy countenance, honored Christ in presenting incense, an offering pointing to his divinity. The third, named Balthasar, with a dark skin and a full beard, testified in his offering of myrrh that the Son of Man must die.’ It was not until the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries that artists represented the third King as a negro, in accordance with the teachings of the theologians that the three Kings represented the three races of mankind coming to render homage to the Christ Child. The subject of the Adoration of the Magi was a favorite one with artists, particularly in the Fifteenth Century, as it lent itself to the richest and most elaborate treatment. The early legends asserted that St. Joseph did not appear; but in representations dating from the Fifteenth Century he is almost invariably present.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[3] “The legend which makes St. Luke a painter was of Eastern origin and was introduced into the West at the time of the First Crusade. There may have been a Greek painter of Madonnas named Luca whom the Western Church confused with the Evangelist, but the Evangelist was always regarded an authority on the characteristics of the Madonna. His Gospel gives the fullest account of her. The subject of St. Luke painting the portrait of the Madonna was frequently treated in the Middle Ages and in the Renaissance.“—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[4] “Double roses, pink or red, were the symbol of divine love and were consecrated to the Madonna. One of her titles was the Madonna della Rosa, doubtless based on the verse in the Song of Solomon (ii. 1)—‘I am the Rose of Sharon and the lily of the valleys’—for as early as the first centuries the Fathers of the Church applied to the Madonna the imagery of the Canticles. The tradition is that when the roses were massed together in garlands or baskets they symbolized heavenly joys. The painters of Central Italy during the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries represented clusters of lilies and roses in the foreground of their Madonna pictures as votive offerings to her of sacred flowers. Often angels present bowls of flowers to her.

“Myrtle was one of the Madonna’s flowers and symbolized her purity and other virtues. The jasmine, though not strictly a sacred flower, is often found in religious paintings—the star-shaped blossom apparently symbolized divine hope or heavenly joy. It is often found with roses and lilies beside the Madonna. The carnation had no definite symbolic meaning, but was frequently used instead of the rose; then it had the same significance as the rose, the symbol of divine love, sacred to the Madonna.—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[5] “In general, representations of the Annunciation before the Twelfth Century are rare; but after the beginning of the Thirteenth Century they become very frequent, appearing somewhere on every altar-piece—in medallions, or quatrefoils above the main panels, in the pinnacles, or in the predella, or painted, or carved on the outside of the shutters. The subject was often treated as a mystery, not as an actual scene. Generally only the Virgin and Angel were represented, although it was not unusual to find other figures. From the end of the Fourteenth until the Sixteenth Century, God the Father is often seen in the sky and the Dove of the Holy Spirit descends from Him to the Virgin on rays of light. The Virgin was represented seated, standing, about to rise at the approach of the Angel, or kneeling. Gabriel was pictured standing, or kneeling, before her, or just alighting on the earth, his feet not yet touching the ground. In the Thirteenth Century representations, notably in the painted glass windows, the Virgin and the Angel stand face to face; later the Italian artists represented the scene as taking place in an open loggia, while the Flemish artists painted the Virgin in meditation in her room when the Angel appeared to her. Before the Thirteenth Century, Mary was often represented with a basket of wool, or distaff as, according to the Protevangelion, she continued to spin for the Temple after she had become affianced to Joseph and was working when the Angel came. Gabriel bears the light staff, or sceptre, of a herald, a scroll on which is inscribed his greeting, an olive-branch, or a stalk of lilies.

“The lily probably was developed from a flower with a long stalk which was introduced during the Thirteenth Century appearing in glass-painting and miniatures and signifying springtime, ‘the time of flowers,’ when the Annunciation took place. Later, lilies were used to symbolize the purity of the Virgin and were placed in a jar, or vase, near her, or were carried by the Angel. In Spain the vase of lilies was almost essential to representations of the Annunciation and became the special and distinguishing attribute of the Virgin. The Spanish Order of the Lily of Aragon, established by Ferdinand of Castile in commemoration of a victory over the Moors in 1410, had for its badge ‘pots filled with white lilies interlaced with griffins, to which was pendent a medal having thereon an image of the Virgin Mary.’ In Italy, neither the vase of lilies nor the stalk was considered essential in representations of the Annunciation, although they are of frequent occurrence. Certain of the Florentine artists, notably Fra Filippo Lippi, represented both. Ghirlandaio, in his Annunciation at San Gimigniano, placed a vase beside the Virgin’s desk and combined other flowers—roses, daisies, and jasmine—with the lilies. The Angel bears the lily-stalk.

“It is interesting to note that while in the majority of Fourteenth- and Fifteenth-Century Annunciations the Archangel Gabriel was represented bearing a lily, the Sienese painters seldom used this flower, preferring the olive-branch, always a favorite symbol with them. In the Annunciation it referred to the Christ Child as the bringer of peace on earth. One interpretation of the avoidance of the use of the lily by Sienese artists is that it was due to the hatred of Siena for Florence, the lily being the flower of Florence.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[6] Col. G. F. Young, The Medici (London, 1910).

[7] Julia Cartwright, The Painters of Florence (London, 1916).

[8] Col. G. F. Young, The Medici (London, 1909).

[9] Col. G. F. Young, The Medici (London, 1909).

[10] “The pomegranate in the hand of the Child, bursting open and showing the seeds, has been variously interpreted. It may be a symbol of the hope in eternity, which the Christ gave to man, signified by the unexpected sweetness of the fruit within the hard rind. In the writings of the early Fathers the fruit is also interpreted as the emblem of congregations, because of its many seeds, or as the emblem of the Christian Church because of the inner unity of countless seeds in one and the same fruit.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Painting (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[11] Berenson.

[12] “Space composition differs from ordinary composition in the first place most obviously in that it is not an arrangement to be judged as extending only laterally, or up and down, on a flat surface, but as extending inwards in depth as well. It is composition in three dimensions and not in two, in the cube, not merely on the surface.... Painted space composition opens out the space it frames in, puts boundaries only ideal to the roof of heaven. All that it uses whether the forms of the natural landscape, or of grand architecture, or even of the human figure, it reduces to be its ministrants in conveying a sense of untrammelled, but not chaotic, spaciousness. In such pictures how freely one breathes,—as if a load had just been lifted from one’s breast; how refreshed, how noble, how potent one feels; again, how soothed; and, still again, how wafted forth to abodes of far-away bliss!”

[13] Julia Cartwright, Beatrice d’Este (London, 1908).

[14] Julia Cartwright, Beatrice d’Este (London, 1908).

[15] Beryl de Sélincourt, Venice (London, 1907).

[16] “In the north of Italy garlands of fruit took the place of votive flowers. In pictures of Florentine origin, when the Madonna holds a single rose, she is represented as the Madonna del Fiore—Our Lady of the Flower—to whom the Cathedral at Florence was dedicated.

“Fruits in general symbolized the fruits of the spirit, or a votive offering, or were often used purely for decorative purposes. The cherries which the Angels offer to the Child are the fruit of Heaven, typifying the delights of the blessed. In a picture by Memling in the Uffizi, the Child holds in one hand a cluster of cherries—the fruit of Paradise—while with the other He reaches out for the apple offered Him by an Angel. This typifies His relinquishment of heavenly joys and His taking upon Himself the sin of the world.

“The apple and the gourd were often painted together by artists, notably Crivelli. The use of the gourd dates back to the wall-pictures in the catacombs, where Jonah was represented as the type of the Risen Christ and the gourd as the symbol of the Resurrection. As the apple was the fruit of Eden which brought sin into the world, so the gourd represented the Resurrection which saved the world from the consequences of its sin. In early pictures the apple sometimes represents the fruit of Paradise, which the King of Heaven brings down to earth with Him. In general, however, it is used as the symbol of the sin of the world which Christ takes upon Himself.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[17] Beryl de Sélincourt, Venice (London, 1907).

[18] It is interesting to see that Vasari calls Dürer a Fleming!

[19] This reminds us of the old Nursery rhyme:

“Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four-and-twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
Wasn’t that a dainty dish
To set before the King?”

Undoubtedly this jingle is an echo of the jokes and “pleasantries” in confectionery and pastry that were perpetrated by the Mediæval chefs.—E. S.

[20] This was a fashion of the period, originating in Italy (see pages 51, 86, 103).

[21] “The introduction of little angels singing vigorously and playing on musical instruments about the Madonna’s throne was a favorite motif of the Umbrian Boccatis. Indeed, angel musicians were represented by artists of all Schools from the Twelfth to the Seventeenth Century. They stand or kneel before the Madonna and Child, or—particularly in Venetian and North Italian paintings—sit on the steps of the throne, playing on lutes, harps, viols, miniature organs, blowing horns and trumpets, striking cymbals and triangles or beating drums and timbrels, and singing their songs of praise and adoration. They make a delightful note of joyousness in representations of the Madonna and Child and are among the happiest creations of painters and sculptors.”—Mediæval and Renaissance Paintings (Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, 1927).

[22] For surprises in pastry, see page 160.

[23] Strawberry Hill Simeon had not then been discovered.

[24] Leslie and Taylor, Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds (London 1865).

[25] William Smith (1756–1835) was a politician who took a great interest in literature and art. He was a friend of Sir Joshua Reynolds, for whose Mrs. Siddons as The Tragic Muse he paid £320 at the Calonne Sale in 1795 and sold it to Mr. G. W. Taylor for £900. At the Taylor Sale in 1823 the picture cost Earl Grosvenor £1,837. It passed recently to America along with Gainsborough’s Blue Boy.

“This picture Sir Joshua Reynolds valued at 1000 guineas—a large sum in his day—but notwithstanding all the encomiums passed upon it, The Tragic Muse remained on his hands for several years. At length it was purchased from the artist for £800 by M. de Calonne, the ex-minister of finance in France.

“When M. de Calonne’s pictures were sold by Skinner and Dyke on March 28, 1795, The Tragic Muse was bought by Mr. Smith of Norwich for £700 and Mr. Smith sold it privately to Mr. G. Watson Taylor for £900. At the sale of Mr. Taylor’s pictures in 1823 it was purchased by Earl Grosvenor for £1,837-10. Inherited by the Dukes of Westminster, The Tragic Muse hung for many years in Grosvenor House, in company with Gainsborough’s Blue Boy until it was sold in 1921 to the late Mr. Henry E. Huntington.”

[26] William T. Whitley, Gainsborough (London, 1915).

[27] William T. Whitley, Gainsborough (London, 1915).

[28] William B. Boulton, Gainsborough, 1907.

[29] Maria’s sister Louisa had married the Hon. and Rev. Frederick Keppel, second son of the Earl of Albemarle.

[30] Maria’s sister who married Lionel, fifth Earl of Dysart.

[31] Name for evening dress.

[32] Maurice W. Brockwell, Taft Catalogue of Paintings (New York, 1920).

[33] Thomas Gainsborough (London, 1915).

[34] The portrait of Henrietta Maria (see page 193) is another example.

[35] Humphrey Ward.

[36] Angelica Kauffman, the famous painter.

Transcriber’s Notes:
1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.
2. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

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