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i#ii '' '' 




iT^t jptojHss of f aintiiis in |t«li, 

r 0.' 


« m 







£bt progress of ||aintin0 in |taig, 




^ ^w fibinOn, 









pnrruBicoHio 143 

LO 8PA0NA 142 







quloopo PONTORMO 210 








THE Doesi 268 




PARinGIAKO , 281 

oioBOioins 289 










BAS8AN0 327 


Cinulnie- From the Portnit by Stmone Hemmi, io the 

Church of Santa Haria NcnelU at Florence 

llaili>iiaa and InTitiit Christ. Aiter Cimabue 15 

Chrut'a Entry into Jertusloio. Duodo 

Oiotto. Ficm the Bu-relief at FlonrDce 

Partnit of Dant?. Punted b; Giotto on the wall of the 

PodeaU at Florance 

He Naficella. Oiotto 

lUil«o Oaddi and Andn* Orcagna 

The Triniaph of Death. Orcagua 

The Angel and the Youth, by Andrea Orcagna. Group from 

U.e Ciunpo -Santo 

lAmoxo Ohiberti 

Ths Angels Tintjng Abraham. From the Qatea of Sui 


Angelico da Piesole 

The AnnimciatioD. Angelico da Fieaole 

Coronation of the Virgin and Uiraclss of St. Domenic. Ang*- 

lico da F^eaole 

St. Peter and St Paol reatoring the Dead Toath. From the 

Oh^Hl of the Oarmine in Floranoe 

St. Peter tnqrtuing. Hanccio 

Martfidom of St. Peter ; a Freaco b; FUippino Lippi, in the 

Church of S. H. del Carmine at Florenoe 


Danciiig YigoTt* ttota the Uarri^e Feait of Jacob and 

Bacbel. SenoEto OoEioli 

Hiniatering Angel, by L. Signorelli. FVom the Chapel in 

the Duomo at Oirieto 

The NaUvity of the BlEued Virgin. Ohirlandqo 

Oinens Benci, introduced as a Female Attendant in the 

Visitation. From the choir of Santa Haria Novella. After 


Andrea Hantegna 

Gronpi from the Triumph of JnliDJB Cciar. Uant«gna 

Oronp from the nme picture 

St. Chriiitopher. Beduoed hc-iimila of the earlieit Woodcut 

• • • 


To face Page 
The Pax of Maao Finiguerra; being a fac-simile of the first 

impression from a metal plate 1 24 

Gentile BeUini 130 

GianBellini \. .. 132 

Pietro Perugino 1 35 

Madonna and Child. After Perugino 141 

Franoesco Raibolini, called II Francia 143 

Fra Bartolomeo 152 

Group from the Madonna della Misericordia at Lucca, painted 

by Fra Bartolomeo 1 59 

Lionardo da Vinci 1C2 

St. Anna, with the Virgin Mary and Infant Saviour. In the 

Louyre 175 

Michael Angelo 181 

Figure from the Sistine Chapel. Michael Angel o 194 

Group from the Vault of the Sistine Chapel. Michael Angelo 194 

Group from the Raising of Lazarus, by Sebastian del Piombo 209 

Andrea del Sarto 212 

St. Joachim. After Andrea del Sarto 214 

Raphael Sanzio d'Urbino 216 

Pope Julius II. Raphael 228 

The three Angels Visit Abraham. From ' Raphael's Bible ' 231 

Group of Joseph relating his Dream. From 'RaphaePs 

Bible' 232 

St. Michael overcoming Satan 251 

Charity. After Raphael 253 

The Entombment. RaphaeL In the Botgheee Palace . . 260 

Giulio Romano 264 

Group of Cupids. After Giulio Romano 266 

A Roman carrying off a Sabine woman. After Polidoro da 

Caravaggio 267 

Benvenuto Gkux>falo 269 

Oorreggio 271 

Madonna and Child. Correggio 280 

Parmigiano 281 

Moees breaking the Tables of the Law 287 

Gioigione 289 

Titian .. 296 

Bacchus and Ariadne. After Titian 298 

Tintoretto 520 

Paul Veronese 323 



SoMETBiNct Anonr Pictufes asd PAjyrERS, 
It is now ahont fourteen years Kince these 'Memoirs' 
of the early Italian P&intera were firgt published in the 
foim of detached eesayB. 

The intention was to afford to young tra-relletB, 1 
yinng stiiilciits in iirt, young x>eciple gtuerally, 
informfttion relating to celebmted srtiat« who have 
filled the world with their names and their renown ; 
some means of understanding their characters, as well 
as comparing their works ; for without knowing what 
a painter was, as well as who he was, and the circom- 
stances around him, and the age and the country in 
which he lived, we cannot comprehend the grounds of 
that relative judgment which renders even imperfect 
works most precious and admirable. These biographical 
ettsya were necessarily brief. Since they were first 
pghliahed the taste for art has been much extended ; 
many works have appeared, some beautifully illns- 
tntted ; and unnumbered reviews, and essays, and gnide- 
books, &om the pens of accomplished critics and artists, 
all facilitating the study of art ; but the original purpose 
of this little book as a companion for the young, has not 
been superseded. The author has therefore prepared 
this new edition with great care. The references to ex- 
amples have been made, wherever it has been possible. 


to our Katioiwl Gallery ; and the number of valnatle 
early piotiiren which have been lal«ly added to our col- 
lection haa londoied thcao refcrenccB and deseriptiona 
much moro intelligible and interesting to the young 
itndent than they were a few years ago. Many remaii- 
able pictnreH have sinee changed handa ; all the smx^gP' 
monts in the Gallery of the Louvre at Paris, in the 
Florentine Gallery, and in that of the Academy ftt 
Veniee, have been altered within the last ten y6an>. 
It has been nocossafy, tberofore, to correct the ifr 
fercucoB with some regard to the existing arran^ 
mcnta and the numbering of the pictures in all these 
famous galleries. Of oouree it has not been possible in 
this little work to enter into diKpntod points of criti- 
□ism or chronology ; but the author has profited hj 
two recent visits to Italy, and more particularly by ths 
last excellent edition of Vasari,' to add several new 
biographies, and to render those Memoirs altogether 
not only more interesting, biit sufficiently accunte, 
considering their comprehensive and popular form, not 
to mislead the inexperienced student on qnostiiiiu 
relating to particular pictures and individual arttslk 
which remain to bo settled. 

And with regard to pictures, let it be remembered 
that, although a knowledge of the name, the character, 
the country of the painter, adds greatly to the pleasure 
with which we contemplate a work of art, it is not — tt 
uitffht not to be— the source of our highest gratificatioa; 
that must depend on our capacity to understand the 

■ Tbe edition puUielied by Le Mounior, at FlaretiDe, in ISW- 


vi^ork in itself, and have delight in it for it^ own sake. 
Our first question, when we etaad before a picture, 
ahonld not be, " Wlio painted it ? " but " What does it 
mean ? " " What La it about ? " " What was it in the 
painter's mind to express when he thus embodied hiti 
tfaoaghtA in form and colour?" We should bo able to 
re»td a picture as we read a book ; and a picture has 
this advantHgo over a book, that the etiguificanco ib not 
exprc«eod in written or printed words, which are mera 
wbitiary Bigna of human inventiou, but in forms and 
oolooiB, which are tlie creation of God. Imagerj', 
whether in painting or eculpture, wiis n means of ini- 
pardtig instruotion aa well as delight long before the 
art of writing existed, and painting was brought to a 
certain degree of perfection, and used for the grandest, 
the most important pnrpoees, long before we had the 
art of printing. In those times, to use the expression 
of one of the old Fathers of the Church, " Pictures were 
the books of the people ;" in fact, they had no other ; 
and even now, when books are plentiful and cheap, the 
nae of pictures to couTej' instruction more rapidly and 
more accurately than by any words, is well known 
both to those who train the young and those who teach 

But it is another thing when we have to consider 
pictares as Art, and painting as one of the divinest of 
the Fine Abts properly so called. 

Now a man may collect books merely as articles of 
curiosity and rarity, as specimens of printing aud bind- 
iiig, like that collector whom Pope describes — 
■ " Id books, not antbon, curious ww my lord 1 "— 


or be may like them an furniture to fill 1 
with gsy bindiHg and accredited hkiuoh ; Hod even « | 
nay a man collect pictures foi- their beaut)-, or their 
rarity, or their antiquity, or hang tliem upon his walls 1 
aa mere ornamental furniture. No doubt such coUeo- 
tioM are a great, an allowable source of pleamire to the t 
poBsesBor and to the observer; but considered as pro- I 
ductioiis of mind addressed to mind, tbie is not the 
highest advantage to be derived fivm pictures. As I i 
have said, we should be able to read a picture as we 
rvail a book. A gallery of pictures may be compared ' 
with a well-furuished library ; and I have sometimet 
thought that tt would be a good thing if w© could 
arrange a collection of pictures as we arrange a collec- 
tion of hixika. In the ordering of a library with a view 
to eonvenienoe and use, we do not mix all subjects | 
togetlicr. We have different compartments for theo- | 
logy, history, biography, poetry, travels, science, ny 
nmnoea, and so fortli ; and we might consider pictons I 
in a similar order. TUEOix>Gr in that case would oom- ] 
prise all sacred subjects, whether taken from the Holy 
Scriptures, or having any religions significance ; they 
may be the nprestidatim of an fxnt, such as the EIcto- 
tioQ of the Serpent in the Wilderness,' the Raising of 
Lastarus," the Worship of the Magi ; ' or they may he ■ 
the txpregavm of an idea, such as the Dead Saviour 
mourned by his mother and the angels,* or those most 
lieaiitiful and inexhauBtible subjects, tJie Human 

' Hubeai, Nat. Qal., 59. 

' Sebastian del Kombo, NM. Qui., I. 

' PhuI VarflLise, Nat. Onl., 208. 

' fraticia, ^ai. QaL, 180. 


Mother numng her DiTine Hon,' and llw Dmae 6ijb 

eaowning in heaven tbe UoUier wbo bwe ham em 

r Mith.* Sucli ideal Bubjecta bow tbe mae * "^**™« lu 

«d events as the Pealma and pcupbcciM bear to IW 

[ kmk of Kitigs. 

In the category' of theotogicftl ptctare* naqr be ehmei 

, Ihose which represent the effigies md ■ afciiu y of tbe 

hoEj' Martyrs, who perished for their fidtb is tba aaify 

•g«s uf Christiaaitj- — m the noble B«nn atdfiv IJt- 

Sebestjaiii' the Great Doctors and TbK^en af tbe 

^ Church — as St. Jerome,' who made tbe fint tandniaa 

of the Scriptnres info tbe vnlgw tonfiTie ''Jfaeao^ c»ll"-d 

the I'ulgaU); and thoee peraonages wbo became idf*I 

types of Christian virtnea : thna we have tbe Taloroan 

uigel Uichael, the conqoetDr of the powen of evil ; > 

the benign angel Baphael, tbe gnardian of tbe joang ; * 

the learning and wisdom of St. Catherine,' the lor- 

titade of St. Antony,' tbe cbivalroiu faith of St 

Geoi^e.* Some knowledge of theae personagea, their 

charactera and actions, historical or legendaiy, and the 

mumer in which they were repreeented by Tarions 

artieta for the edification of the people, will add 

greatly to the interest of a gallery of pictures ; and we 

olass SQch snbjecta as sacred art, jnst aa we should 

elass Hilton's Paradiae Lost and the Pilgrim's Progress 

u sacred poetry. 

All would range aa theology, and nothing is more 

■ ObiriuidBJo, Nat. Gal., 296. 

■ Andiw OragDB, Nat. Oal.. 569. 

1 pollaioolo, Nat, GaL, 292. * Nat. GaL, 11, 227, 281. 

* PenigiDo, Nat Oal., SSS. * lb*). 

' Baphael, Nat. Oal., 168. ■ An. Camtcci, 198. 

* Tmtoretto, Nat. Gal.. 16. 



interesting than to observe the very different maimer 
in which the self-*fiame scene and subject has been con- 
ceived and represented by different artists. 

But to continue our parallel between a library and a 
picture gallery. History would comprise all pictures 
representing such actions and events as have been re- 
corded by uninspired writers — classical and modem. 
Such are ** the Family of Darius at the feet of Alex- 
ander" * (from Grecian history), " the Bomans carrying 
off the Sabine Women " " (from Koman history), ** the 
Death of Lord Chatham " • (from English history), and 
so on ; and portraiture stands in the same relation to 
historical painting that biography boars to history. Is 
not the picture of Ippolito do* Medici and Sebastian del 
Piombo a piece of biography ? * and Julius the Second, 
that resolute old pope ?* and Julia Gonzaga ? • and Zur- 
baran's Monk ? ' and Rembrandt's Eabbi ? * We are 
ignorant indeed, darkly ignorant, of history as of cha- 
racter, if we cannot read such pictures. 

Poetry would comprise all subjects from the poets 
— ancient and modem. Such are the Bacchus and 
Ariadne,' the Venus and Adonis,*^ Mercury teaching 
Cupid to read," the Judgment of Paris (all taken 
from the classics) ; Erminia and the Shepherds*" (from 
Tasso) ; the Bescue of Serena*' (from Spenser). These 

> P. Veronese, Nat. Gal., 294. « Rubena, Nat. Gal., 38. 

* Copley. * Nat. Gal., 20. » Ibid., 27. 

• Ibid., 24. r Ibid., 230. • Ibid., 51. 

» Titian, Nat. Gal., 35. w Titian, Nat. Gal., 34. 

" Correggio, Nat. Gal., 10. " A. Carraoci, Nat. Gal., 88. 

*' Hilton : this picture, and Copley's Death of Chatham, are now 
in the English school at the Kensington Museum. 


are poftry, if they be not rather eacli in itself a poem. 
Then, correlative with fiction and the drama, domestic 
or romantic, we have that style of painting, called 
Gam, which deals with the scenes and incidents of 
^miliar life, which may be of a very high moral Bigni* 
ficance, as iho Marriage e-la-Mode ; ' or of the lowest, 
lui the AVoman [weling Carrots,' or lie " Drinking 
Boors ; ' but whatever the significance, it may be en- 
nobled by the perfect elocution. Some modem novela, 
in which the most commonplace events of evory-day 
life nre treated with the must esqiiiaito grace, delicacy, 
rmd knowleilgi.- of hiiitiannnturf, muy be likened to those 
Dutch pictnres in which two misors counting their gold, 
a lady reading a letter, or a woman bargaining for a 
fowl, shall be treated with snch consummate elegance 
of execution, and even power of character, that they 
delight at once the eye and the fancy. 

Bnt genre painting was unknown in the early achools 
of Italian art ; the concerts and nonixraaziom of Gior- 
gione and the other Venetians are too poetical to 
oome under this designation, bo I shall say no more of 
it here. And animal-painting, as a special class of art, 
racb as Bnbens, and Snyders, and Londaeer have made 
it, was also unknown. At the same time we must 
acknowledge that, when the old Italians did introduce 
animals into their pictures, they showed themselves 
capable of excelling in imitative as well as ideal art. 
What can exceed the little birds on the steps of the 
throne in Benozzo Gozzoli's Madonna,* or the fish in 

■ Hogutb. 


Pemgino'B picture of I^phael and Tobit, ' for e» 
ate truth of nature ? To be sure we cannot say tha 
same of Paolo Ucccllo's horaee.' Yet it is interesting 
to observe the first efforts in this way of a school whjclt 
afterwards produced Andrea Verrocchio's equestmn 
statne of Colleone,' and Lionardo'a " Battle of the 
StaniUinl." ' 

Landscape-painting, which may be likened to bmAi 
of travels and descriptiuna of scenery, was unknown h 
a separate class of art till the middle of the rrixteentb 
oentmy ; but some of the early painters, piu-ticulorly 
the Venetians, give us lovely bits of background to 
their religions scenes. That intense symjiathy with 
natural scenery which we find in the worka of Thtmi' 
eon and Wordsworth as poota, Cuj-p and Hobbem* ■• 
painters, seema to have been the growth of modeni 

Lastly, to oontinne our parallel, wo have a soientific 
clasN of art as of books. Painting, when called in to 
illustrate the disooveries and triumphs of scienoe, u 

wlogy, botany, architectural elevations, and the like, 
' be called scientific art ; and a collection of this 
I of pictnrea, whore beauty of treatment ia com- 
■d with oiaot truth, might be made very attractive 
as well as interesting and profitable. In these daya 
scientific art is chiefly employed in illustrating books, 
and is the handmaid rather than the priestess and inter- 
preter of nature. But photography is teaching ns all 

' Nftt. Oal., 288. 

• In tha BatUe of St. Epdio, Nat. OsJ, 583. 

' At Venice. There ia a Gno cnat io the Cryit&l PtlaoB. 

* See page 173. 


the Ixjauty and all the poetry that may he found in the 
BMist Utural transcriptB of truth ; and, like landscupe 
Uk! portmituro, scientific art will find in time a place 
lor itself in our galleries. 

^Vhen wo know and thoi-oughly iindei-stand the anb- m 

ject lit IX picture, we may then inquire Ihc name of tha- J 

jKinter, the age, the country, the school of art in whicll 

^H|VinB reared, to which he helouged ; and hence we 

^^pqf 'derive the most various delight from the associa- 

^RtnMi eonnected with this extended knowledge. These 

B Uehdiks of famoOB painters are intended to snggest 

' Bueh ciimpanttive and discriminating reflcctioni:', and I 

will conclude with a passage written long ago hy an 

ftlmost forgotten critic in art, old Jonathan Bichard- 

" When one sees an admirable piece of art, it ia a part 
of the ent«rtainment to know to whom to attribute it, 
and then to know his history ; whence else is tho cus- 
tom of putting the author's picture or life at the begin- 
ning of a book? When one is considering a picture or a 
drawing, and at the same time thinks tliat this was 
done by him who had many extraordinary endowments 
of body and mind, but was withal very capricious ; ' 
who was honoured in life and death, expiring in 
the arms of one of tho greatest princes of that age, 
Francis I., Ring of France, who loved him as a friend. 
Another is of Aon' who lived a long and happy life, 
beloved of Charles Y., £knperoT, and many others of 
the first princes of Burope. When one has another 
in his hand, and thinks this was done by Atm * who 
lioDudo dk Viikci. Sae p. 174. * Tititm. * Uiclutel Angelo. 


80 ezcolled in three arts as tliat any of them iS 
that degree had rendered him woi-thy of Unmortali^, 
and one that, moreover, durst contend with bis Bore- 
reign (one of the haughtiest popes that ever wm) upon 
a slight offered to hiTn, and extricated himself with 
honour. Another ia the work of Ami ' who, without 
any one exterior advantage, by mere strength of geniuB, 
had thu must miblimo imaginations, and executed them 
accordingly, yet lived and died obscurely. Another 
we shall consider as the work of Arnt' who restored 
painting when it was almost sunk; of him whose art 
made honourable, but, neglecting and deepising great- 
ness with a sort of cynical pride, was treated suitably 
to the figrn'o ho gave himself, not his intrinsic merit ; 
whioh, uot having philosophy enough to bear it, broke 
hia heart. Another is done by otm* who (on liio con- 
trary) was a fine gentleman, and lived in great magnj- 
ficenco, and was much honoured by his own and foreign 
princes : who was a courtier, a statesman, and a painter, 
and BO much all these, that, when ho acted in either 
character, that seemed his business, and the others his 
diversion. — I say, that when one thus reflects, besides 
the pleasure arising from the beauties and excellencies 
of the work, the fine ideas it gives us of natural things, 
the noble way of thiiikiug one finds in it, and the 
pleasing thoughts it may suggest to us, an additiotial 
pleasure results from those reflections. 

" But, O the pleasure ! when a connoisseur and lover 
of art baa before him a picture or a drawing of which 
he can say, this is the hand, there are the thought«, of 

' Contsgio. 

< Anuibol CorraccL 


who w»3 one of the politest, best-natnred geatle- 
_ that ever was ; and beloved and ftseislcd by the 
b(ldHt wits and the greatest men then in Eome ; of 
^■k vAd lived in great fame, honour, and magnificence, 
tad died extremely lamented, and missed a Cardinal'i 
hat only by dj'ing a few months too soon, but was par>- 
ticttlarly esteemed and favoured by two popes, the on^ 
eaea who filled tho chair of St. Foter in his time, and 
•> great men as ever sat there since that apostle, — if at 
IcMt he ever did ; * one, in short, who could have been 
a Leonardo, a Michael Angelo, a Titian, a Correg^oi 
an Anniljale, a Rnbens, or any other he pleased, Imt 
none of them could ever have been a Eajihael. And 
when we compare the baud and manner of one master 
with another, and those of the seme man in different 
times, when we see the varioaa turns of mind and 
rerions excellendeB, and, above all, when wo observe 
what is well or ill in their works, as it is a worthy, so 
it is also a very delightful exercise of our rational 

It is to enlarge this sphere of rational pleasure in the 
contemplatioii of works of art that the following Me- 
moin were written. 

■ Jnihu n. and Leo X. an the popea alluded to, whose likeneaa 
to at Peter way be doubted. Both were great patroiu of art; but 
the Gnt waa violent, haughty, oud ambitioni ; the latter eelfiih, 
Mnani], vain, onprincipled. Raphael paiutad both ; and each portrait 
■ aUthful Innacript of character, aa well m a masteipieoe ef art. 



To Cinubne for three oentnriee had been awarded the 
lofty title oi "Father of Modem Faintiiig;" and to 
him, OD the anthoriiy of Tosari, had beea ascribed the 
merit, or rather the miraeU, of having rerived the art of 
painting when utterly loet, dead, and buried — of having 
by hia single genina brought light out of darkneas, form 
and beaut? out of chaoa. The error or gross enumera- 
tion of Tasari in mating these claims for his country- 
man has been pointed out by later authors ; some have 
even denied to Gimabue any share whatever in the 
r^eneiatiou of art ; and at all events it seems clear 
that bis claims have been much over-stated ; that, so far 
from painting being a lost art in the thirteenth centuiy, 
■od the race of artista annihilated, as Yasori would lead 
ns to believe, several contemporary paintere were living 
and woridng in the cities and churches of Italy previous 
to 1240; and it is possible to trace back an uninter- 
rupted series of pictorial remains aud names of painters 


[Bolts IMO. 

even to tlie foarth contuiy. But in depriving Cimabua 
of Im false glories, onougb remmns to iutcreut and fix 
attontion on the period at wbioh ho lived '. hJs name has 
etood too long, too cunNpicnousIy, too justly, as a Ifind- 
mark in the history oCaft to bo now thrust ba<^k under 
the wavits of oblivjon.'-. A rapid glauco over the piw- 
grese of pai]itiW'Jt>U^^ Ins tiino will enable ua to jndgs 
of his true cU^tSi,' and place him in hia true position 
relative -^tb liioso who preuodod and thoso who followed I 
himf '•."./• I 

"., "rae-early Christians had confounded in their horror 
>, oCheathen idolatiy all unitativo art and all artists ; they 
• 'regarded with decided hostility all images, and tboee | 
who wrought thuxa aa bouud to tho service of Satan aaA , 
heatheuiimi ; and wa find all visible reproseotatdons of ' 
aaorod personages and actions confined to mystio em- 
blems. Thus the Cross signified Redemption ; the Flab, 
Baptism ; the Ship represented Uio Church; the Serpuat, ; 
Sin or the Spirit of Evil. ^\'hen, in the fourth ceatuqr, 
the struggle botwuen paganism and Christianity ended 
in the triumph and recognition of tho latter, and art 
revived, it was, if not in a now fuiiu, in a new spirit, 
by which the old forms were to be gnulually mouldod 
and modified. Tho Christians found tho sholl of anciunt 
art remaining; the trailitiouaiy handicraft etill existed; 
certain models of figuiu and drapeiy, &c., handed down 
from antiquity, though degenerated and distorted, re- 
mained in use, and were applied to illustrate, by direct 
or symbolical representations, tlie tenets of a purer 
faith. From the beginning, tho figures selected to typi^ 
our redemption were tlwsc of the Saviour and the Bleesed 

Vtij^in. fint sepantaly, and then ouujuintly as the Mother 
■nil Infant. The eArlieiit in<iiiunienta of CbriBtiKii art 
uo to be foauil, nenrlj ufruo(.>d, un the walb iinil oeillngs 
«f the caUcomlNt at Boqjl', io which the persecuted 
nuLTtyni of tie fiiith hud flud for rofuga. Tbu firat re- 
owdvd ropreeentatiou uf the CMriuui it) in the character 
aC the Gix>d Shepherd, and the attributes uf Orpheus 
k Apollo were bonvwud to espreaa tlie character of 
who " rede^uied souls trom hell," and ''gathered 
■people like eheep." In the cemetet^- of St. CalixtiiH 
I a head of Ohrirt wna diacovored. the most 
t of which any copy has como down to us : tho 
« colowul ; the Gicc a lotig oval ; the countenance 
mild, pave, melancholy ; the long hair, parted on the 
Iravw', falling in two luasBes on either ahoulder ; the 
beard not thick, but short and divided. Here then, 
tibnaaAy imitated from some trnditiatial description 
(probably the letter of Lentulue to tho Roman Senate, 
1 to be a lubrication of tbo third century), wo 
> tj'pe, the genoric character since adhered to 
e represeDtationa of the Bedeemer. 

y arose afterwatds iii the early Christian 
I had a uiout important influence on art 
r developed. One party, with St. Cyril 
td, maintaiued that, tho form of the Saviour 
; bo^i described by the Prophet aa without any 
, ouioellneas, he ought to bo represented in 
8 utterly hideous and repulsive. Happily the 
eloquent and intlneutial among tlie fatliei's of the 
rcb. St. Jerome. St. Augiistiu, St. Ambroeo, and St. 
Bernard, took up the other side of tho (|uestion ; 


[BoRS t3«a. 

pope, Adrian I., threw hb infaUibillty into the scnie; 
and from tho 8th century we find it decided, and after- 
wards confirmed by a papal bull, that the Redeemer 
should be represented with all the attributes of diTUM 
beauty which art in ita then rude state could lend him. 

Since that time the accepted and traditional type for 
tho person of our Lord has been strictly attended to by 
the moat conscientious artistB and in the beat schools of 
art — a tall, slender fi^ire ; a face of a long oTal ; a 
broad, serene, elevated brow ; a. countenance mild, me- ' 
lancboly, majestic ; the hair (" of the colour of wine or 
wiue leoa "- — which may mean either a dark rich brown i 
or a golden yellow — botli have been adopted) parted in 
the front, and flowing down on each side ; the beard ' 
parted. The resemblance to IIis mother — His only ' 
earthly parent — ^waa strongly iiisiatod upon by the early 
eccleaiastioul writfirs and attended to by the earliest | 
painters, which has given something peculiarly refined i 
and GTou feminine to the must aucient heads of onr 

The most ancient repriisentations of tlie Tirgin Maij 
now remaining are the Ftculptttres on the ancient 
Christian sarcophagi, aWut the 3rd and 4th conturieSi J 
and a mosaio in the chapel of San Yenaozio at I 
Bomo, referred by antiquarians to the 7th centtuy. 
Hei'e she is represented as a colossal figure majestioally | 
draped, standing with tlie arms outspread (the ancient 
attitude of prayer), and her eyes raised to heaven ; then, 
after the 7th centurj-, succeeded her image in her 
maternal character, seated on a throne with the infant 
Bavionr in her aiins, We must bear in mind, once for 

•n, iLaU &om the earliest agea of ChriBtianitj- Iho 
Virgin Motlier of our Lord has Iieeu selected as Urn 
•U^Qoical type of Heliqio.n in tlie abetrsct sense ; and 
to thtB, her symbolicaj character, must be referred those 
representatioiis of later times, in which she appears as 
trampling on the Dragon [ as folding her votaries within 
the ekirte of htr ample robe ; as interceding for einners ; 
u crowned between heaven and earth by the Father 
u)d the Son. 

In the same manner traditional heads of St. Peter 
mi St. Paul, rudely sketched, became in after-timea the , 
jrr.'Wniin-cirk of the highcBl dignity and bcanty, still 
retaining that peculiarity of form and character which 
time and long custom had consecmted in the eyea of 
the devout. 

Besides the representations of Christ and th« Virgin, 
■ome of the characters and incidents of the Old Testa- 
ment were selected as pictures, generally with reference 
to corresponding characters and incidents in the Gospel ; 
thus St. Angustin, in the latter half of the 4th century, 
tells UB that " Abraham offering up his son Isaac " was 
then a common subject, Epical, of course, of the Great 
Sacrifice of tlie Son of God ; " Moses striking the rock," 
the Ooepel of the Water of Life ; the vine or grapes 
expreesed the sacrament of the Eucharist ; Jonah swal- 
lowed by the whale and then disgoiged signified deatli 
and resurrection; Daniel in the lions' den signified 
redemption, Ac This system of corresponding subjects, 
of type and onti-lype, was afterwards, as we shall see, 
rairied much further. 
In the 7th century, painting, as it existed in Europe, 

6 GIOVANNI CIMABUE. [Born 1240. 

may be divided into two great BohooLs or styles — ^the 
Western, or Boman, of which the central point waa 
Rome, and which was distinguished, amid great mdi^ 
ness of execntion, by a certain dignity of exprenioii 
and solenmity of feeling; and the Eastern, orByzantme 
school, of which Constantinople was the head-qnartait, 
and which was distinguished by greater meohanicai 
skill, by adherence to the old classical forms, by the 
use of gilding, and by the mean, vapid, spiritless (xm- 
oeption of motive and character. 

From the 5th to the 9th century the most important 
and interesting remains of pictorial art are the mosaics 
in the churches,* and the miniature paintings with 
which the MS. Bibles and Gospels were decorated. 

But during the 10th and 11th centuries Italy fell 
into a state of complete barbarism and confusion^ which 
almost extinguished the practice of art in any sh^^ ; 
of this period only a few works of extreme rudeness 
remain. In the Eastern empire painting still survived ; 
it became, indeed, more and more conventional, insipid, 
and incorrect, but the technical methods were kept up ; 
and thus it happened that when, in 1204, Constanti- 
nople was taken by the Crusaders, and the intercourse 
between the east and west of Europe was resumed, 
several Byzantine painters passed into Italy and Qer- 
many, where they were employed to decorate the 

* Partioularly those in the church of Santa Maria Maggiore at 
Rome, along the nave and over the principal arch, which date aboat 
the year 440 (those in the vault of the apsis are nnidi later, abont 
1238) ; in the church of St. Cosmo and St. Damian at Rome, about 
the yoar 526 ; in the church of San Vitale at Ravenna, about the yean 
527-565 ; and in the church of St. Cecilia at Rome, about the year 817. 

M»»« <* '^ „„ «,■.*» " uL, of foro ""* 1 

'•■^'- ^' uT. w^>- O"^" '•■"■*°" pattca M • 

„,1 SM, >"i ''"•■ ^^* 



tandod in act to bless ; the loll hand holding a globe, a 
scroll, or a book. With regard to the execution, the or- 
ntuuentB of tho throne and borders of the draperies, and 
frequently tho background, are elaborately gilded : the 
local colours are generally vivid ; there is little or Oo 
relief; the handling is streaky ; tho flesh-tinta are 
blttoldah or greenish. At this tiine, and for two hun- 
dred years afterwardit (before tlio invention of oil paint- 
ing), pictures were painted either in fresco, au art never 
wholly lost, or on panels of seaaoned wood, and tho 
ooloura mixed with watei' Uiiokened with white of e^ 
or tho juice of tie young shoote of the fig-tree. This 
last method was styled by tho Italians a eoUa or a Utn- 
jiera ; by the French, en detrempt ; and iu English, m 
itistmnper : and in this mitnnur uU movable pictures were 
executed previous to 1440. 

As it is not the purjinae of this little book t<i trore tho 
gradual progress of curly art, but rather to give same 
account of tho early artists, and as we know nothing of 
thoee who lived in the first hnlf of the 13th century ex- 
cept a name and a date inscribed on a picture, I shall 
not dwell upon them ; only revert to tlio fact that before 
the birth of Cimabne (from 1200 to 1240) there existed 
schools of painting at Sienna and at Pisa, not only 
under Greek but under Italian teachers. The former 
city produced Guido da Sietma, whose Madonna and 
Child, with figures the size of life, signed and dat«d 
1221, is preserved in the church of San Domenico at 
Sienna. It is engraved in Eosini's ' Storia della Pit- 
tura.' on the same page with a Madonna by Cimabne, 
tg which it appears superior in drawing, attitude, ex- 

preooon, and diapery. Pisa produced about the same 
B Ginnta Aa Pisa, of whom there remain works with 
thff d»U) 1236 : oue of these is a Cnicifiiion, engraved 
in Ottley'a ' Italiiui School of Deeign,' and on a mualler 
K*lo in Kosiui's ' Storia deUa Pittura,' in which 
•ipression of grief in the hoTeriag angels, who 
wringing their hands and weeping, is veiy eiimest 

But nndunbtedly the grcntost man of that 
le. ho who gave the grand impnlse to modem art, 
a the sculptor Niccolo Pisano, whose works dute from 
rat 1220 to 1270. Further, it appears that 

o & native painter, a certain Maestro Bartolom< 

d and waa employed in 1236. Thus Ci 

»Iy elaim to be the " father of modem paintinjf ' 

U his own eity of Florence, We shall now ] 

J the fe<!t« on which his traditional celebrity 

a (ounded. 

I Giovanni of Florence, of the noble family of 

uboi, willed otherwise Gnaltieri, was bom in 1240. 

a WMi early sent by his parents to study grammar in 

school of the convent of Santa Marin Novella, where 

H also related of other inborn painters), 

lug his tusk, he distracted his teachers by dra^ 

homes, buildings, on his acliool-books : 1 

; was invented, this spoiling of scbool- 

t have been rather a costly fancy, and no dou1 

med the profeasoi-s of Greek and I>ntin. His parenl 

y yielding to the natural bent of his mind, allowei 
1 to study painting under some Greek artists who 
1 to Florence to decorate the church of the 
rnTeDl in which he was a scholar. It st 




whether Cimabae did study under the identioal painten 
alluded to b j Yasari, but that his masters and models 
were the Byzantine painters of the time seems to admit 
of no doubt whatever. The earliest of his works men- 
tioned by Yasari still exists — a St. Cecilia, painted for 
the altar of that saint, but now preserved in the Gkdleiy 
of Florence.* He was soon afterwards employed by the 
monks of Yallombrosa, far whom he painted a Madonna 
with Angels on a gold ground, now preserved in the 
Academy of the Fine Arts at Florence. He also painted 
a Crucifixion for the church of the Santa Croce, still to 
be seen there, and several pictures for the churches of 
Pisa, to the great contentment of the Fisans ; and by 
these and other works his fame being spread far and 
near, he was called in the year 1265, when he was only 
twenty-five, to finish the frescoes in the church of St. 
Francis at Assisi, which had been begun by Greek 
painters and continued by Oiunta Pisano. 

The decoration of this celebrated church is memorable 
in the history of painting. It is known that many of 
the best artists of the 13th and 14th centuries wore 
employed there, but only fragments of the earliest pio- 
tures exist, and the authenticity of those ascribed to 
Cimabue has been disputed by a great authority, f LaJisi, 
however, and Dr. Eugler, agree in attributing to 

* It is a doubtfdl picture, but intereetmg finom the •abject. SL 
Cedlia, instead of playing on her oi^gan or listening to the angelfl^ 
is here a solemn-looking matron seated on a throne, and holding in 
one hand the palm as martyr, and in the other the GkMipel for 
which she died. It is on the right hand as we enter the first long 

t Romohr, ' Italienische Forschimgen.' 

r Ilni>13D3.] HIS WORKS. n 

I pwntmgs on the roof of the nave, representing, 
llions, the figtires of Christ, the Madonna, St. 
I ibe Baptist, St. Francis, and fonr magnificent 
winged and sceptred. " In tJie lower comore of 
lie triangles arc represented naked Genii lioaring taBt*>- 
M vases on their hands ; ont of these grow rich foliage 
and flowers, on which hang other Genii, who plnck the 
frnit or Inrk in the cnpe of the flowers."* If thoeo are 
really hy the hand of Cimatue, we must allow that 
bare is a great step in advance of the fonnal monotonj- 
I of hi« Greek models. Ho executed many other pjctnree 
in this fiimoas church, "eon diligenai ijifiiula," from the 
Old and New Testaments, in which, jndging &om the 
Engmoits whioh remain, he showed a decided improve- 
raent in drawing, in dignity of attitude, and in the 
exprassion of life, bnt vtaU the figures have only jtiHt so 
much of animation and edgnificanoe as are aheolntely 
neeeeaoiy to render the story or action intelligible. 
There ia no variety, no express imitation of nature. 
Beii^ recalled by his affairs to Florence, abortt 1270, 
be painted there the most celebrated of all his works, 
the Madtnma and infant Christ, for the chapel of the 
Bnceellai in the chnrcb <^ Santa Haria Novella. This 
Tifli-amft , of a larger size than any wluclk had been 
previoiudy execnted, had excited in its progress great 
cariosity and interest among his fellow-dtizens, for 
(Smaboe reftised to micover it to public view : bnt it 
happened abottt that time that Charles of Anjon, brother 
of Iioiiis IX., being on his way to take poesesoon of the 
kingdom of Naples, passed through Florence, and was 
• Kuglsr, 'BMidbook.' 

12 GIOVANNI CIMABUE. [Born 1240. 

received and feasted 'by the nobles of that city; and 
among other entertainments, they conducted him to visit 
the house of Cimabue, which was in a garden near the 
Porta San Fiero : on this festive occasion the Madonna 
was uncovered, and the people in joyous crowds hur- 
ried thither to look upon it, rending the air with excla- 
mations of delight and astonishment, whence it is said 
this quarter of the city obtained and has kept ever since 
the name of the Borgo dei Allegri.* The Madonna, 
when finished, was carried in great pomp from the 
house of the painter to the church for which it was 
destined, accompanied by the magistrates of the city, 
by music, and by crowds of people in solemn and festive 
procession. This well-known anecdote has lent a vene- 
rable charm to the picture, which is yet to be seen in 
the church of Santa Maria Novella ; but it is difficult in 
this advanced state of art to sympathise in the rmve 
enthusiasm it excited in the minds of a whole people 
six hundred years ago. Though not without a certain 
grandeur, the form is very stiff, with long lean fingers 
and formal drapery, little varying from the Byzantine 
models ; but the infant Christ is better, the angels on 
either side have a certain elegance and dignity, and the 
colouring in its first freshness and deliccM^y had a charm 
hitherto unknown.'!' After this Cimabue became famous 

* But according to others the street derived its name from the 
fkmily of the Allegri. 

t We have lately added to our National Gallery a picture by 
Oimahue, the originality of which has been disputed, but, as it 
appears to me, on no sufficient grounds. Its antecedents are well 
authenticated, and its resemblance to the undisputed pictures in 
the Belle Arti and the Ruccellai Chapel, at Florence, is quite satis- 

in all Italy. He liad a school of painting tit Florenco 
itnd atADj' pupils, aiuoDg them one who won destined to 
take the scoptro from Lia hand and fill all Italy with his 
lame — and who. but for him, would have kept sheep in 
iho TuHcan valleys all hi§ life — the glorious Giotto, of 
whom we are to speak presently. Cimabue, besidea 
being a painter, was a worker in mosaic and an archi- 
tect; he was employed, in conjunctioB with Arnolfo 
Lapi, in the building of the church of Santa Illaria del 
Fiore, the cathedral of Florence. Finally, having lived 
for more than sixty years in great hononr and renown, 
ho died at Florence about the year l.'Ki2, while cm- 
ployed on the mosaioB of the I>uomo of Pisa, and was 
carried &om his house in the Via del Cocomero to the 
church of Santa Maria del Fiore, where he was buried : 
the following epitaph was inscribed above his tomb : — 

Besides the undoubted works of Oimabue preserved 
in the churches of San Domenico, la Trinity, and Santa 
Maria Novella at Florence, and in the Academy of Arts 
in tiie same city, there is in the Gallery oCthe Lonvre 
a Madonna and Child enthroned, with six attendant 

fiwtoTf . If one of tlie hard, maUiicholj, lifelen Oreek li! 
could be placed buide it, the observer woald better a] 
■dvaiiM made bj Cimabae id gentlensae and dignity. Aa an hil- 
torkal doouiDeiit the ipecimen i> invaluable. It waa tonaerij in 
tbe Santa t}roee at Florence. 

* Cinubna thought hinueU maater of the field of painting ; 
Wliile living be waa lo — now, he holda hii pbwa among the 

■tan of heaven. 


14 ■ GIOVANNI CaiABUE. [B0K!f 1340. 

angels ; the figares larger than life. (No. 174.) This 10 
supposed to be the same which was originally painted 
for the convent of St. Francis at Pisa, and much re- 
sembles the Madonna in the Buocellai Chapel. From 
these productions we maj judge of the real merit of 
Cimabue. In his figures of the Virgin he has not much 
improved on the Byzantine models. The faces are not 
beautiful ; the features are elongated ; the extremities 
meagre; the general effect flat: but to his heads of 
prophets, patriarchs, and apostles, whether introduced 
into his great pictures of the Madonna or in other saored 
subjects, he gave a certain grandeur of expression and 
largeness of form, or, as Lanzi expresses it, '' tm nan 90 
che di forte e sMime,^* in which he has not been greatly 
surpassed by succeeding painters; and this enei^ of 
expression — ^his chief and distinguishing excellence, and 
which gave him the superiority over Guido of Sienna 
and others who painted only Madonnas — was in har- 
mony with his personal character. He is described to 
us as exceedingly haughty and disdainful, of a fiery 
temperament, proud of his high lineage, his skill in 
his art, and his various acquirements, for he was well 
studied in all the literature of his age. If a critic found 
fault with one of his works when in progress, or if he 
were himself dissatisfied with it, he would at once 
destroy it, whatever pains it might have oost him. From 
these traits of character, and the bent of his genius, 
which leaned to the grand and terrible rather than the 
gentle and graceful, he has been styled the Michael 
Angelo of his time. It is recorded of him by Yasari 
that he painted a head of St. Francis after nature^ a 



, he Bays, till then unknown: it could not Iultb 
I a portrait from life, because 6t. Francis died ittl 
SI325. Tlic earliest head altar uatoro whiclk rcmaiiiH to] 
8 painted \ij Giunta Pisano, ahout 1235, and v 
^'ttttpcntnut of Frate Elia, a monk of Assisi. Perhaps 
i that the San Francoeco was the first ro- 
of a saored personage for which natore had 
a taken as a model. 
The portrait of Cimabue prefixed to this essay is 
ipied fi'om a tmcing of the original head, painted on 
die walls of Iho Chapel degli Spagnuoli, in tlio churcli J 
of Santa Maria Novella, by Simone Memmi of Sienna, J 
who was at Ftorenco during the lifetime of Ciniabne, j 
and must have known him perBonally. This painting, 
thongb exeautod after the death of Cimabuo, has always 
a considered authentic as a portrait; it is the samo 
o by Vasari, and copied for the first edition of j 
b bonk. The Madonna is taken 5x>in the picture in I 
mta Maria Novella : in the original picture there are m 
tliroe angels on each side, ranged one above another in. ■ 
a line, with no attempt at grouping, and little variety 1 
^^ • of expression. I 

^^H Gimabnc bad several reraarkablo contemporaries. Tha 1 
^HipWitest of these, tind certuinly the greatest artist of his I 
^^Htane, WOP the sculptor Nicoolo Pisano. The works of 1 
^^Mns extraordinary genius which have been preserved to J 
^^Ponr dme ore so far beyond all contemporaiy art in 1 
^^■nowledgc of form, grace, expression, and intention, that, 
if indisputable proo& of their authenticity did not exist, 
il would bo pronounced incredible. On a comparison 
^^HI tho works of Cimabue and I'isano, it is difficnlt to J 


^^been « 

^^^M boil 

16 GIOVANNI CIMABUE. [Born 1240. 

conceive that Pisano executed the bas-reliefis of the pul- 
pit in the Cathedral of Pisa, and the Scriptural historiea 
which adorn the facade of the Dnomo at Ovieto, while 
Cimabue was painting the frescoes in the charch of 
Assisi. He was the first to leave the stiff monotony of 
the traditional forms for the study of nature and the 
antique. The story says that his emulative fancy was 
early excited by the beautiful antique sarcophagus on 
which is seen sculptured the story of Phaddra and Hippo- 
lytus. In this sarcophagus had been laid, a hundred 
years before, the body of Beatrice, the mother of the 
famous Countess Matilda : in the time of Niccolo it had 
been inserted into the exterior wall of the Duomo of 
Pisa ; and as a youth he had looked upon it from day 
to day, until the grace, the life, and movement of the 
figures struck him, in comparison with the barbarous 
art of his contemporaries, as nothing less than divine.* 
Many before him had looked on this marble wonder, but 
to none had it spoken as it spoke to him. He was the 
first, says Lanzi, to see the light and to follow it.f 
There is an engraving after one of his bas-reliefis — a 
Deposition from the Cross — in Ottley's * School of De- 
sign,' which should be referred to by the reader who 
may not have seen his works at Pisa, Florence, Sienna, 
and Orvieto. There are also several of his works en- 
graved in Cicognara's * Storia della Scultura.' 

* This saroophaguB was restored in 1810 to the Campo Santo, 
where Beatrice had been interred in 1116. 

f Rosini, in his 'Storia della Pittura,' has rectified some erron 
into which Vasari and Lanzi have fallen with regard to the dates of 
Niccolo Pisano's works — it appears that he lived and worked so late 
as 1290. 


Aaotli«r contemporaiy uf Cimabue, and Ms friend, 
was AsnuEi Tafi, the greatest worker in mosaic of his 
time. The asaertioD of Vaaari, that hi> learned lus art 
from the Byzantines, is now discredited ; for it appears 
certain that the mosaic- workers of Italy (the furemnnorB 
of painting) eiceUed tlie Greek artists then, and for u 
century or two before. Andrea Tafi died, yoiy old, in 
1294; and his principal works remain in tUo Duomo of 
St, M&rk at Venice, and in the Baptistery of San Giovanni 
at Florence. Another famous mosaic- worker, also an 
inlimate &iend of CJmabne, was Gaddo Gauiii, remark- 
able for being the first of a family illiintrioiis in eeveial 
deputments of art and literature. It must be remom- 
bered tliat the moaaio-workers of those times prepared 
luid oolonred their own designs, and may therefore take 
•nak with the painters. 

Further, there remain pictures by painters of the 
Sienna school which date before the death of Cimabue, 
and particnlarly a picture by a certain Maestro Uiuo, 
dated 1269, which is spoken of as wondeiful for the in- 
vention and greatness of style. 

Another Siennese painter was Dnccio, who painted 
&om 12S2 (twenty years before the death of Cimabue) 
to about 1339, and " whose influence on the progress of 
art was unqaestionably great." To this painter waa 
allotted, in the year 1308, the task of painting the great 
altarpiece for the beantiful Cathedral of Sienna, dedi- 
cated to the Viipn Mary. The high altar then stood in 
the centre of the church, and the panel was painted on 
both sides, as it was to be seen both from before and 
behind the altar. On one dde Duccio represented the 

18 GIOVANNI CIHABUE. [Bomr 1240. 

history of our Lord in twenfy-fleyen small oompartmeDts, 
beginning with the Annonoiation and ending with the 
Cracifizioti, which forms the largest and prinolpal sab- 
ject. On the other side of the panel was represented 
the Madonna and Child enthroned, on each side six 
prophets and ten adoring angels, and lower down^ ob 
each side, five saints — in all forty-fbnr figures. Whsn 
finished this picture was carried in grand piocessioii, 
attended by music and rejoicing crowds, to its place in 
the Cathedral. In the year 1506 it was remored. The 
panel was afterwards sawed throu^ into two parts : one 
side (tho Madonna) now hangs in the chapel of B$a£ 
Ansano, to the left of the choir ; the other (the life of 
Christ) on the right hand, opposite. They are aocountad 
among the most precious monuments of early art. The 
prcdella, which was beneath the Madonna, contained, as 
usual, small subjects from the history of the Virgin 
Mary — these, five in number, are now in the saorisly 
of the Cathedral. Besides this great altarpieoe, only 
one undoubted picture by Duccio is known to exist, and 
this is in tho collection of his Boyal Highness Prince 

All these artists (Niccolo Pisano excepted) still 
worked on in the trammels of Byzantine art. The first 
painter of his age who threw them wholly off, and left 
them far behind him^ was Giotto. 

* A series of outline engravings fix>m Dncdo's ' Histoiy of our 
Lord ' was pnblished at Rome by Dr. Emil Brvm^ the ceLebnlid 
archjBologiBt, and these justify the praise and admiration which is 
now accorded to the grace, the simplicity, and the spiritual signi- 
ficance of these beautiful compositions. 




■* Cimabue Ihoupht 

To lord it_over painting s field; wiJ ucjw 
The ciy ii Qiotto's, tod hia name eelipa'd." 

Caret's Dante. 

TaraE often-quoted lines, from Dante'e ' Furgatorio,' 
Diiist needs be once more quoted here ; for it is a 
mrioiiB eiTomnfitanoe that, applicable in his own day, 
five hundred Tears a^, the; shoold still be bo applicable 
in aura. Open any common history not intended for 
the very profirand, and there we still find Cimaboe 
" lording it over painting's field," and placed at the 
head of a revolntion in art, with which, as an artist, he 
hod little or nothing to do — bnt mnch as a man ; for to 
him — to his qoick perception and generous protection 
of talent in the lowly shepherd-boy — we owe Giorro, 
than whom no single hnman being of whom wo read 
has exercised, in any particular department of science 
or art, a more immediate, wide, and lasting influence. 
The total change in the direction and character of art 
mnst in all hnman probability' have taken place sooner 

20 GIOTTO. [Born 1276. 

or later, since all the influences of that wonderful period 
of regeneration were tending towards it. Then did ar- 
chitecture struggle as it were from the Byzantine into 
the Gothic forms, like a mighty plant putting forth its 
rich foliage and shooting up towards heaven ; then did 
the speech of the people — the vulgar tongues^ as they were 
called— begin to assume their present structure, and 
become the medium through which beauty and love and 
action and feeling and thought were to be uttered and 
immortalized; and then arose Giotto, the destined in- 
strument through which his own beautiful art was to 
become one of the great interpreters of the human soul, 
with all its *' infinite " of feelings and Acuities, and of 
human life in all its multifarious aspects. Giotto was 
the first painter who ** held as it were the mirror up to 
nature.*' Cimabue's strongest claim to the gratitude of 
succeeding ages is, that he bequeathed such a man to 
his native country and to the world. 

About the year 1289, when Cimabue was already old 
and at the height of his fame, as he was riding in the 
valley of Vespignano, about fourteen miles from Flo- 
rence, his attention was attracted by a boy who was 
herding sheep, and who, while his flocks were feeding 
around, seemed intently drawing on a smooth fragment 
of slate, with a bit of pointed stone, the figure of one of 
his sheep as it was quietly grazing before him. Cimabue 
rode up to him, and, looking with astonishment at the 
performance of the untutored boy, asked him if he would 
go with him and learn ; to which the boy replied, that 
he was right willing, if his faEtther were content. The 
father, a herdsman of the valley, by name Bondone, 





being conmill^d, gladly consented to the wish of tha 
noble straogor, and Giotto henceforth became the iniaata 
luid pupil of Cimabue. 

This pretty story, which was first related by Lorenzo 
Ghiberti. the soulptor {bom 1378), and since by Ta- 
Buri and a hmidred otiiers, hicklly rests on evidence as 
Batixfactory as can be given for any events of a rude 
and distant age, and may well obtain onr belief, as well 
as gratify our fancy ; it has been the subject of many 
liotures, and is introduced in Rogers's ' Italy : ' 

" Let ua minder thro' the fields 

Wlian Cinuboe (bund tha ihephsrd-boj 
Tmnng hii idle laiiciai on the giound." 

Giotto was about twelve or Iburteen yoaia old when 
taken into the house of Cimabue. For his instruction in 
those branches of polite learning necessary to an artist, 
his protector placed him under the tuition of Bnmetto 
listini, who was also the preceptor of Dante. When, 
at the age of twenty-sLx, Giotto lost his &iend and 
master, he was already an accomplished man as well as 
a celebrated painter, and the influence of his large 
original mind upon the later works of Cimabue is dis- 
tinctly to be tiaoed. 

The first recorded performance of Giotto was a paint- 
ing on the wall of the Palazzo dell' Pbdest^, or council- 
chamber of Florence, in which were introduced the 
portraits of Dante, Brunette Latini, Corso Donati, and 
others. Vaaari speaks of these works as the first snc- 
ceseful attempts at portraiture in the history of modem 
ut. They were soon afterwards plastered or whito- 

22 GIOTTO. [BORK 1276. 

washed over during the triumph of the enemies oC 
Dante ; and for ages, though known to exists they wem 
lost and buried from sight. The hope of reooveiuig 
those most interesting portraits had long been enter- 
tained, and various attempts had been made at difieraoi 
times without suooess, till at length, as late as I84O9 
they were brought to light by the perseveiance and 
enthusiasm of Mr. Bezzi and Mr. Kirkup, aasisted by a 
subscription among the English and Amerioan reddenti 
and visitors then at Florence. On comparing the head of 
Dante, painted when ho was about thir^, prosperont 
and distinguished in his native city, with the later por- 
traits of him when an exile, worn, wasted, embittered 
by misfortune and disappointment and wounded pride, 
the difference of expression is as touching as the identity 
in feature is indubitable. 

The attention which in his childhood Giotto seems to 
have given to all natural forms and appearances, showed 
itself in his earlier pictures ; ho was the first to whom it 
occurred to group his personages into something like a 
situation, and to give to their attitudes and features the 
expression adapted to it : thus, in a veiy early picture 
of the Annunciation he gave to the Virgin a look of 
fear ; and in another, painted some time afterwards, of 
the Presentation in the Temple, he made the inftnt 
Christ shrink from the priest, and, turning, extend his 
little arms to his mother— the first attempt at that 
species of grace and naivete of expression afterwards 
carried to perfection by Eaphael. These and other 
works painted in his native city so astonished his fellow- 
citizens and all who beheld them, by their beauty uid 

D 1336.3 


tuynhy, that they seem to ha.To n-anted adequate words 
in which tu exprcHs thii enoeaa of thoir delight and 
afhairatioo, tmd insisted that the fignres of Giotto eo 
oomplelely beguiled the Httnee that they -were mia- 
take^n for realities; a commonplaoo eulogium, never 
merited but by the moet commoiiplaco and meohanical 
of paintere. 

In the church of Santa Crocc, at Florence, Giotto 
painteil a Coronation of the Virgin (etiU to he seen there 
in the Baronoelli Cbapol), with choirs of angels and a 
ranltitnde of saints on either side. In the refectory ho 
paintod the Last Siipiier, also ulill remaining ; a grand, 
vdenui, nn^e ccnnposition, which, as a first endeayoor 
to girs "variety of expreaaion and attitade to a nnmher 
of penons — all seated, and all bat two actuated by a 
■irailar laelins — mist still be regarded as extiaordinary.* 
In ft obapel of the church of the Carmine at Florence 
be pointed a series of piotores from tbe life of John the 
B^tist. These were destroyed by fire in 1771; but, 
hapinly, an English engraver, then studpng at Florence, 
named Fatoh, had previooBly made accorato drawings 
from them, which he engraved and published. A fr^- 
ment ot the old fieaoo, containing the heads of two of 
the AposdeB, who are bending in grief and devotion 
OTor the body of 8L John, was in the collection of Mr. 
Bogesn, the poet, and is now in the National Gallery 
(Ko. 276}. It certainly jnatifies all that has been said 

* TbM Imjjb refactoiy of Suita Croce is now a carpet mMnibctar?, 
■nd Oiotto'i Ceiucolo Gila up one nde. It is in ■ moat ruined cod- 
ditiati, tad I find that it baa lately been attribatsd to Taddeo 
Oaddi, one of Uie beat pupils of Oiotto. 

24 GIOTTO. [BoBar 1276. 

of Qiotto's power of expression, and, when compared 
with the remains of earlier art, more than excuses the 
wonder and enthusiasm of his contemporaries. 

The pope, Boniface YIII., hearing of. his marrelloas 
skill, invited him to Bome ; and the story says that the 
messenger of his Holiness, wishing to have some proof 
that Qiotto was indeed the man he was in search of, 
desired to see a specimen of his excellence in his art : 
hereupon, Qiotto, taking up a sheet of paper, traced on 
it with a single flourish of his hand a circle so perfect 
that *' it was a miracle to see ;*' and (though we know 
not how or why) seems to have at once converted the 
pope to a belief of his superiority over all other painters.* 
This story gave rise to the well-known Italian proverb, 
** Piu tondo che V di Giotto'' (rounder than the of 
Giotto), and is something like a story told of one of the 
Grecian painters. But to return. Giotto went to Bome, 
and there executed many things which raised his fame ^ 
higher and higher ; and among them, for the ancient 
Basilica of St. Peter's, the famous colossal mosaic of the 
Navicella, or the Barca^ as it is sometimes called. It 
represents a ship, with the Disciples, on a tempestuous . 
sea ; the winds, personified as demons, rage around it. 
Above are the Fathers of the Old Testament; on the 
right stands Christ, raising Feter from the waves. The 
subject has an allegorical significance, denoting the 
troubles and triumphs of the Church. This mosaic has 
often changed its situation, and has been restored again 
and again, till nothing of Giotto's work remains but the 

* '* He was probably guided by the safer evidence of QioUo's 
fame," says a late critic. 


original composition. It is now in ike voGtibule of St. 
Peter's at Rome.* 

For the Bame Pope Bo] boe, Qiotto painted the Insti- 
tntiun of tlie Jubilee of 1300, which still exiotA in the 
portico of the Lateran ai Rome. 

In Padua Qtotto painted the ohapel of the Arena with 
^esooes from the history of Christ and the Virgin, in 
fifty square compartments. Of this ohapel the late Lady 
Calk^tt published on interesting account, illustrated from 
drawings made by Sir Angiistus Callcott. Theso however 
are snperseded by the set of drawings engraved on wood 
sod pnbliahed by the Arundel Sooiefy, whioh, besides 
their beanty and oonsoientions aoouxaoy, have the ad- 
Tsntage (rf being described and oommeuted on by Mr. 
Boakin. At Padua Qtotto met hia Mend Dante ; and 
the influence of one great genius on another is strongly 
exemplified in some of his snooeeding works, and par- 
ticnlarly in his next grand performance, the frescoes in 
the chnrofa of Aseisi. In the under i^nrch, and inime> 
diatdy over tlie tomb of St. Francis, the painter lepre- 
■ented the three vows of the Order — Poverty, Chastity, 
and Obedience ; and in the fourth compartment, tbe 
Saint enthroned and glorified amidst the host of Heaven. 
The invention of the all^^riee under which Giotto has 
represented the vows of the Saint, — hie Marriage with 
Porerty — CSiaatily seated in her rocky fortress — and 
Obedience with the cnrb and yoke, — are ascribed by a 
tradition to Dante. Giotto also painted, in the Campo 

26 QIOTTO. [Bqbh lS7e. 

Santo at PiBa, the whole history of Job, of which only 
some fragments remain. 

By the time Oiotto had attained his thirtieth year he 
had reached such hitherto unknown excellence in art, 
and his celebrity was so universal, that every oity and 
every petty sovereign in Italy contended for the homnir 
of his presence and his pencil, and tempted him with 
the promise of rich rewards. For the lords of Aremo, 
of Rimini, and Kavenna, and for the Duke of Milan, he 
executed many works, now almost wholly perished. 
Castruccio Castricani, the warlike tyrant of Lucca, also 
employed him ; but how Giotto was induced to listen to 
the offers of this enemy of his country is not explained. 
Perhaps Castruccio, as the head of the Ghibelline party, 
in which Giotto had apparently enrolled himself, i^ 
peared in the light of a friend rather than an enemy : 
however this may be, a picture which Giotto is said' to 
have painted for Castruccio, and in which he introduced 
the portrait of the tyrant, with a falcon on his fist* 
was long preserved at Lucca.* For Guide da Polente, 
the father of that hapless Francesca di Rimini whose 
story is so beautifully told by Dante, he painted the in- 
terior of a church ; and for Malatesta di Rimini (who 
was father of Francesca*s husband) he painted the 
portrait of that prince in a bark, with his companioDB 
and a company of mariners ; and among them, Yaaari 
tells us, was the figure of a sailor, who, taming round 

* It is no longer there. It may have been a copy of the portrait 
of Castruccio, painted by Andrea Orcagna, in the Campo Santo at 

with his hand before Iub face, is in the act of spitting 
in the sea, so life-like ae to strike the beholders with 
amAzemeat : this has perished ; but the figure of the 
thirsty man etooping t" •^.rl-'" ■" -ma of tlie frescoes 
at Assisi, still remaios, iho* kind of excellence 

throagh which Giotto i u admiration in hia 

oontemporaries — a poner ot iiuiiation, a truth in the 
expression of natural actions and feelings, to which 
painting had never yet aeoended or descended. This 
leaning to the actual ancl the i-eal has been made a subject 
of reproach, to which we shall hereafter refer. 

It issuid, but this does not rest on voiy batiatactorj' 
STidence, ttut Qiotto also Tidted Avignon, in the train 
of Pope Clement V., and paisted thwe the portraits of 
Fetraroh and Laura. 

About the year 1327, King Bobert of Naples, the father 
of Queen Joanna, wrote to his son, the Duke of Calabria, 
then at Florence, to send to him, on any terms, the 
fiunouB painter Qiotto, who! accordingly travelled to the 
ooDit of Naples, 'stopping on hia way; in several oities, 
where he left speoimens of his skill. He also visited 
Orvieto for the purpose of viewing the sculpture with 
which the brothers Agoatino and Agnolo were decorating 
the cathedral, and bestowed on It high commendation. 
There is at Gaeta a Cmoifixionp^ted by Giotto, either 
on hia way to Naples or on hia return, in which he 
introduced himself kneeling in an attitude of deep 
devotion and contrition at t^e foot of the cross : this 
introduction of portraitnre into a sabject bo awful was 
uiother innovation, not so praiseworthy as some of his 
chanoteristiGe. Giotto's feeling tat truth and propriety 

28 GIOTTO. [Bouf 1276. 

of expression is particularly remarkable and commend- 
able in the alteration of the dreadfnl but popular subject 
of the crucifix: in the Bysantine school the sole aim 
seems to have been to represent physical agony, and to 
render it, by every species of distortion and exaggera- 
tion, as terrible and repulsive as possible. Giotto was 
the first to soften this awful and painful figure by an 
expression of divine resignation and by greater attention 
to beauty of form. A Crucifixion painted by him became 
the model for his scholars, and was multiplied by imi- 
tation through all Italy; so that a fiutnous painter of 
crucifixes after the Greek fiushion, Margaritone, who had 
been a friend and contemporary of Cimabue, confounded 
by the introduction of this new method of art, which he 
partly disdained and partly despaired to imitate, and old 
enough to hate innovations of all kinds, took to his bed 
" infastidito " (through vexation), and so died. 

But to return to Giotto, whom we left on the road to 
Naples. King Eobert received him with great honour 
and rejoicing, and being a monarch of singular accom- 
plishments, and fond of the society of learned and dis- 
tinguished men, he soon found tiiat Giotto was not 
merely a painter, but a man of the world, a man of 
various acquirements, whose general reputation for wit 
and vivacity was not unmerited. He would sometimes 
visit the painter at his work, and, while watching the 
rapid progress of his pencil, amused himself with the 
quaint good sense of his discourse. *' If I vrere you, 
Giotto," said the king to him one very hot day, " I 
would leave off work and rest myself." ** And so would 
I, sire," replied the painter, ** if I were yaw/" The 

kii^, in a plaj^ful mood, desired him to paint his kii^- 
doBt, on which Giotto immediately Eketcbed the figifra 
of an ass with a heavy pack-saddle on his back, sneUii^ 
with an enger air at another pack-eaddle lying on the 
gnxmd, on ^bich were a crown and sceptre. Bt this 
Onbleim the satirical painter expressed the serrilitj and 
the fickloiess of the STeapolitans. and the king at once 
understood the allosion. 

While at Naples Giotto painted to the church of ths 
Incorooata a seriee of freecoee representing the SeTea 
StOTaments according to the Bomaa ntaal. Theae tctOl ii 
P vSst, and are amongst the moet anthentio of hia works.* \ 
ITie Sacrament of Slarriagfe contains many feit^le 
figurea, beantifniljr demgned and grouped, with gnoefiil 
beads and flowing di^erioB. This picture is tndititm- 
slly said to repreoent the marriage of Jooima of Naples 
ud Lonis of Taranto ; bnt Qiotto died in 1336, and 
these bnuniB eapoosals took plaoe in 1347 ; a diy date 
will BometimeB oonfonnd a very pretty theory. In ihb 
Seonment of Ordination there is a groap of ohanting- 
heyt, in which tike varioaa expreasionB of the act of 
fingiTig are given with that tmib of imitation which 
nude Giotto the wcmder of his day. His paintings from 
the Apocalypse in the church of Santa Chiara were 
wiutewwhed over, about two oentoriee ago, by a certain 
pHoT ctf the convent, becoose, in the opinion of this bar- 
Isffian, thy madt tita dmrch look dark I 

• His* axist ragnriii^ (ram tbeaa (nscoaa^frmn wUch an idea 
nijbefiwiiwdof thAgnnpiiiguidcompoution. Three of theee are 
^m in Kiev's Handbook. But when I Tinted the old church 
of the IiioonxiBia in 1B58, 1 foond them in a rained oonditiotL 

30 GIOTTO. [BoBK 1276. 

Giotto quitted Naples about the year 1328, and re- 
turned to his native city with great increase of riches 
and fame. He continued his works with unabated ap- 
plication, assisted by his pupils, for his school was now 
the most famous in Italy. Like most of the early Italian 
artists, he was an architect and sculptor, as well as a 
painter ; and his last public work was the exquisitely 
beautiful Camp€uiilo or Bell-tower at Florence, founded 
in 1334, for which he made all the designs, and even 
executed with his own hand the models for the sculp- 
ture on the three lower divisions. According to Kugler, 
they form a regular series of subjects illustrating the 
development of human culture, through religion and 
laws, " conceived," says the same authority, ** with pro- 
found wisdom." When the emperor Charles V. saw 
this elegant structure, he exclaimed that it ought to be 
** kept under glass." In the same allegorical taste 
Giotto painted many pictures of the Virtues and Vices, 
ingeniously invented and rendered with great attention 
to natural and appropriate expression. In these and 
similar representations we trace distinctly the influence 
of the genius of Dante. 

A short time before his death Giotto was invited to 
Milan by Azzo Visconti. He executed some admirable 
frescoes in the ancient palace of the dukes of Milan; 
but these have perished. Finally, having returned to 
Florence, he soon afterwards died — "yielding up his 
soul to God in the year 1336 ; and having been," adds 
Vasari, ** no less a good Christian than an excellent 
painter :" he was honourably interred in the church of 
Santa Maria del Fiore, where his master Cimabue had 

been laid ■witL similar liononrs th.irt_y-five years Iwfora < 
o de' Medici nflerwards placed above his tomb his I 
k marble, from which the illnstrative portrait him I 
Giotto left four eons and fonr daughters, 

i wa do not hear that &ay of his descendants becamQ'J 
fietingnished in art or othenriee." 

Before we proceed to give eume Bccotiiit of the psi*^ 
fottal character and influence of Giotto, both sb a 
and an artist, of which many amnsing and interesting I 
tmts have been handed do%^-n to qb. we tnUBt turn for a ] 
momdDt to reconsider that revolution in art which 
(oiginated with him — which seized at once on all ima,- 
ginations. all sympilhies ; which Pflnte, Boccaccio, and 
Petnroh have all commemoisted in immortal verse or 
u immortal proee ; which, dnring a whole oentniy, 
filled Italy and Sicily with disciplea fonned in the same 
■chool and penetrated with the eame ideas. All that 
had berai done in painting before Giotto, resolved itself 
into tlie imitation of certain eziet£ng models, and &eir 
improvement to a certain point in style of oxecntion : 
there WBB no new method; the Greekish types were 
everywhere seen, more or less modified — a Madonna in 
tbe middle, with a couple of lank saints or angels stack 
on each side ; or saints bearing symbols, or with their 
names written over their heads, and texts of Scripture 
proceeding &om their mouths; or at the most a few 
fignree, placed in snch a position relatively to each 

• In Um fongidng (kctd loiD* diapated points in the lift of Qiotto 
«. /«■ nhrlnna FHwnu left at net, ud the order of aTeota hu been 
in eocordaiKM) irith more exact chronielen then 

32 GIOTTO. pORK 1276. 

other as sufficed to make a stoiy intelligible, the arrange 
ment being generally traditional and arbitrary; snch 
seems to have been the limit to which painting had 
advanced previous to 1280. 

Oiotto appeared ; and almost from the beginning of 
his career he not only deviated from the practioe of the 
older painters, but stood opposed to them. He not only 
improved — ^he changed; he placed himself on wholly 
new groimd. He took up those principles which Kicoolo 
Pisano had applied to sculpture, and went to the same 
sources, to nature, and to those remains of pure antique 
art which showed him how to look at nature. His resi- 
dence at Rome while yet young, and in all the first 
glowing development of his creative powers, must have 
had an inccdculable influence on his after-works. De- 
ficient to the end of his life in the knowledge of form, 
he was deficient in that kind of beauty which depends 
on form ; but his feeling for grace and harmony in the 
airs of his heads and the arrangement of his groups was 
exquisite ; and the longer he practised his art, the more 
free and flowing became his lines. But, beyond grace 
and beyond beauty, he aimed at the expression of na- 
tural character and emotion, in order to render intelli^ 
grible his newly invented scenes of action and his relig^ioos 
allegories. A writer near his time speaks of it as some- 
thing new and wonderful, that in Giotto's pictures *' the 
personages who are in grief look melancholy, and those 
who are joyous look gay.*' For his heads he introduced 
a new type, exactly reversing the Greek pattern : long- 
shaped, half-shut eyes ; a long, straight nose ; and a 
very short chin. The hands are rather delicately, but 


^■PttC 1336.3 

YeV(!T correctly, drAwn, and he oould not deaign the 
Feet well, for which reason we generally find those of J 
bis men olothed in shoes or sandals wherever it is poB- I 
Bible, And those of his women covered with flowing i 
drapery. The management of his draperies is, indeed, 
pardcnUrly characteristic j distinguished by a certain 
lengthinesH and narrowness in the folds, in whioh, how- 
ever, there is much tast« and simplicity, thoi^h, in point 't 
of Btyl«, as far from the antiqne as from the complicated 4 
meansMia of the Byzantine models ; and it is curiooi ' 
that this peculiar treatment of the drapery, these long 
jierpendicular folds, oorrespond in character with the 
principles of Gothic architecture, and with it rose and 
declined. For the stiff, wooden limbs, and motionless 
fi^rcA, of the Byzantine school, ho substituted life, 
toovoment, and the look, at least, of flexibility. His J 
notions of grouping and arrangement he seems to have I 
taken from the ancient baaso-relievos ; there is a statu- I 
esqoe grace and simplicity in his compositions wliiob I 
ramindB us of tliem. His style of colouring and ex^l 
cntion was, like all the rest, an innovation on received 1 
loda : his ooloUTs were lighter and more roseata 1 
had ever been known ; the fluid by which they 
tempered more thin and easily managed ; and hit 
frMCoM mu«t have been skilfully executed to have stood 
eo well as they have done. Their deration is indeed 
nothing compared to the Egyptian remains: but the 
latter have been for ages covered np from light and a 
in a dry «endy climate : those of Giotto have l« 

bo all the vicissitudes of weather and of under«| 
1 damp, Imvo been whitewashed and eve 
c 3 



34 GIOTTO [BOBW 1276. 

ill-treated, yet the fragments which remain have still 
a surprising freshness, and his distemper pictures are 
still wonderful. We have in the National Oalleiy a 
single example of Giotto, the small fragment of a fresco 
already described (p. 23), and an altarpiece, certainly 
from his school and contemporary (painted about 1330), 
which will give an idea of his characteristic merits. 
The only picture in the Louvre attributed to him 
(a St. Francis, as large as life) is dubious and un- 
worthy of him. In the Florentine gallery are three 
pictures : Christ on ^e Mount of Olives, one of his best 
works; and two Madonnas, with graceful angels. In 
the gallery of the Academy of Arts, in the same city, 
are more than twenty small pictures, about a foot in 
height, which formerly decorated the presses or ward- 
robes in the sacristy of Santa Croce, and representing 
subjects from the life and acts of Christ and St. Frauds.* 
Those who are curious may consult the engravings after 
Giotto in the plates to the 'Storia della Pittura' of 
Bosini; those in D'Agincourt's 'Histoire de 1* Art par 
les Monumens ; ' in Ottley's ' Early Italian School,' a 
copy of which is in the British Museum ; and the set of 
engravings published by the Arundel Society. 

Giotto's personal character and disposition had no 
small part in the revolution he effected. In the union 
of endowments which seldom meet together in the same 

* There were originally twenty-six of these small but beautifal 
compositions ; thirteen from the history of our Saviour, and thirteen 
from the history of St. Francis. The church of Santa Croce belongs 
to the Franciscan order. See Kugler's Handbook, p. 130, and ^e 
* Legends of the Monastic Orders/ for an explanation of this double 

IltIDl35«.] ms CHiKACTER. 35 

wdiTidaal — extraordinary inrentive and poetical genins, 
with Eooiid, practical, cnci^tic sense, and untiring 
•ctivity and energy— Giotto reeembled Bubens ; and 
only this rare combination could have enabled him to 
fling oBF Eo completely all the fetters of the old style, 
ind to have executed the amazing uamber of works 
which are with reason attributed to him. His character 
vas as independent in other matters as in hia own art. 
He seecoa to have had little reverence for received opi- 
nions abont anything, and was singularly &ee from the 
sapemtitiouB enthusiasm of the times in ^vfaich he lived, 
sltbon^ he lent his powers to embodying that very 
sopeTBtitioii. Perhape the very circumstance of his 
being employed in painting the interiors of ehnrcbea 
■nd monasteries opened to his acnle, disoeming, and 
independent mind reflections which took away some of 
the respect for the mysteries they concealed. There is 
extant a poem of Giotto's, entitled ' A Bong against 
Poverty,' which becomes still more piqvante in itself, and 
expressive of the peculiar turn of Giotto's mind, when 
we remember that he had painted the Glorification of 
Poverty as the Bride of St. Francis, and that in those 
day* songs in praise of poverty were ss bshionable as 
devotion to St. Francis, the "Patriarch of poverty." 
Giotto was celebrated too for hia joyous temper, for his 
witty and satirical repartees, and seems to have been 
as careiiil of his worldly goods as he was diligent in 
acquiring them. Boocaocio relates an anecdote of him, 
not very important; but as it contains several traitjs 
iriiich are divertingly charaoteriBtio, I will give it 
here: — 

36 GIOTTO. [Bora 1276. 

'* Fair and dear ladies I " (Thus the novelist is wont 
to address his anditoiy.) ** It is a wondrous thing to see 
how oftentimes natore hath been pleased to hide within 
the most misshapen forms the most wondrons treasmes 
of soul, which is evident in the persons of two of om 
fellow-citizens, of whom I shall now briefly disooorse to 
you. Messer Forese da Babatta, the advocate, being a 
personage of the most extraordinary wisdom, and learned 
in the law above all others, yet was in body mean and 
deformed, with, therennto, a flat, currish {pcagwOo) phy- 
siognomy ; and Messer Qiotto, who was not in fistce or 
person one whit better favoured than the said Messer 
Forese, had a genius of that excellence, that there was 
nothing which nature (who is the mother of all things) 
oould bring forth, but he with his ready pencil would so 
wondrously imitate it, that it seemed not only mrnHar^ 
but the same ; thus deluding the visual sense of men, so 
that they deemed that what was only pictured before 
them did in reality exist. And seeing that through 
Qiotto that art was restored to light which had been for 
many centuries buried (through fault of those who, in^ 
painting, addressed themselves to please the eye of the 
vulgar, and not to content the imderstanding of the wise), 
I esteem him worthy to be placed among those who ha^e 
made famous and glorious this our city of Florence. 
Nevertheless, though so great a man in his art, he was 
but little in person, and, as I have said, ill-&voured 
enough. Now it happened that Messer Forese and 
Oiotto had possessions in land in Mugello, which is on 
the road leading from Florence to Bologna, and thither 
they rode one day on their respective a&irs, Messer 

l»nm lasa.;^ 


Forese heing monnted on a eoiry hired jade, and the 
otlter in no Iiettcr case. It was sonimer, and the rain 
came on suddenly and fiiriouely, and they hastened to 
Uke shelter in the house of a peasant thereabouts who 
was known to them ; but the storm still prevailing, they, 
ooomdering that they must of necessity return to Florence 
^e wme day, borrowed^rom the peasant two old, ^ 

pUgrim-cJoaka and two msty old hats, and bo the^-J 
forth. They bad not proceeded very (ar when the^V 
id themselves wet through with the rain, and aS.ff 
twepattered with the mud ; but after a whOe, the weatbeclB 
clearing in some small d^ree, they took heart, and from] 
being silent they began to dificonrse of various matters.! 
Uesser Forese, having listened a while to Giotto, who4 
WHS, in truth, a man most eloquent and lively in speech, V 
ootild not help casting on him a glance as he rode along- 1 
side, and considering him fmrn head to foot thus wet, 
ngged, and splashed all over, and thus mounted and 
I^ODoalrcd, and not taking his own appearance into ao- j 
it, ho laughed alond. ' Giotto,' said he, jeeringly, 1 
'if a stranger were now to meet na, could he, looking oo 1 
believe it possible that you wore tlie greatest painter 
e whole world ?' ' Certainly,' quoth Giotto, with a 
glance at his companion, 'certainly; if looking 
apoti yonr worship ho conld believe it possible that yoo J 
knew yoor A B C 1' Whereupon Messer Foreso could J 
not but confess that be had been paid in his own co 
Tbis is one of many humorous repartees which tra- 
has pre8er%-ed, and an instance of that readiness 
,t ftrmlrzza — for which Giotto was admired i 
eecms to have presented in liimself, i 

38 GIOTTO. [BoKf 1276. 

nnion of depth and liveliness, of poetical fancy and 
worldly sense, of independent spirit and polished soaviiy, 
an epitome of the national character of the Florentines, 
such as Sismondi has drawn it. We learn, from the hyper- 
boles tused by Boccaccio, the sort of rapturous surprise 
which Oiotto's imitation of life caused in his imaginatiye 
contemporaries, and which assuredly they would be &x 
from exciting now ; and the unceremonious description 
of his person becomes more amusing when we recollect 
that Boccaccio must have lived in personal interoouise 
with the painter, as did Petrarch and Dante. When 
Giotto died, in 1336, his friend Dante had been dead 
three years ; Petrarch was thirty-two, and Boccaccio 
twenty-three years of age. When Petrarch died, in 1374, 
he left to his friend Francesco da Carrara, Lord of 
Padua, a Madonna, painted by Giotto, as a most precious 
legacy, " a wonderful piece of work, of which the igno- 
rant might overlook the beauties, but which the learned 
must regard with amazement.*' All writers who treat 
of the ancient glories of Florence — Florence the beautiful 
— Florence the free — from Villani down to Sismondi, 
count Giotto in the roll of her greatest men. Anti- 
quaries and connoisseurs in art seach out and study the 
relics which remain to us, and recognise in them the 
dawn of that splendour which reached its zenith in the 
beginning of the sixteenth century. No visitor to Flo- 
rence ever looks up to the Campanile without a feeling 
of wonder and delight, without thinking what that man 
must have been who conceived and executed a work so 
nobly, so supremely elegant ; while to the philosophic 
observer Giotto appears as one of those few heaven- 



endowd beings, whoM devolopment aprii a ft 

KioToe witliiii — ODD of thoee unconecioTifi ine uuents in 
t^ hand of FroTidence, wlio. in seeking thci- own profit 
■nd delight tiirough the expansion of tlioir o'vfti faculties, 
miike: unararea a step f in human culture, lend » 

new impulse to human s as, and, like the " bright 

monuDg «tar, day's har ' may be merged in the 

cacceeding ntdiance, bm r forgotten. 

Before we pass on t^" tie scholars and imitators of 
Giotto, who during the i >xt century filled all Itnly with 
schools of art, we may here make mention of one or two 
of hiB Dontemporaries, not ao mnoh for any performances 
left behind tbem, bnt becanse they have been commemo- 
ntod by men more celebrated than themselTea, and 
ffirriTe embalmed in their works as " flies in amber." 
Duite bas mentioned, in his ' Pnrgatorio,' two painters 
of tbe 'time, &moiis for their miniature illnstrations of 
Mi— 1i and HSS. Before the invention of printing, and 
indeed far some time after, this was an important branch 
of art : it flonrished from the days of Charlemagne to 
thoM of Charles T., and was a sonrce of honour as well 
■■ riijtes to tbe laymen who practised it. Bfany, how- 
erer, of the most beautiful specimens of illuminated 
HHtntucripts are the work of the nameless Benedictine 
mtmlcs, who laboured in the silenoe and eeolosion of 
flteir oonventa, and who yielded to their community most 
of the honour and all the profit : this was not the case 
with Oderi^, whom Dante has represented as expiating 
in purgatory his exoessive vanity as a painter, and 
hnmbly giTii^ the palm to anoUier, Franco Bolognese, 


of whom there remains no relic but a Madonna, engraved 
in Bosini*8 ' Storia della Pittora.' He retains, however, 
a name as the founder of the early Bolognese SGhooL 
The &me of Bnffalmacco as a jovial companiony and llie 
tales told in Boccacoio of his many inventions and the 
tricks he played on his brother-painter the simple Calan* 
drino, have survived almost every relio of his penoiL 
Tet he appears to have been a g^od painter of that time, 
and to have imitated, in his later works, the g^raoefbl 
simplicity of Giotto:* he had also much honour and 
sufficient employment, but, having been more intent on 
spending than earning, he died miserably poor in 1340. 
Pietro Cavallini studied under Qiotto at Bome, but 
seems never to have wholly laid aside the Greekish style 
in which he had been first educated. He was a man of 
extreme simplicity and sanctity of mind and Tnannf^TS^ 
and felt some scruples in condemning as an artist the lit 
painted Madonnas before which he had knelt in prayer: 
this feeling of earnest piety he communicated to allhia 
works. There is by him a picture of the Annunciation pre- 
served in the church of St. Mark at Florence, in which the 
expression of piety and modesty in the Virgin, and of 
reverence in the kneeling angel, is perfectiy beautiibl : 
the same devout feeling enabled him to rise to the sublime 
in a grand picture of the Crucifixion which he painted 
in the church of Assisi, and which is reckoned one of 
the most important monuments of the Giotto schooL 

* A picture of St. Ursula, an early work of this painter, in tli» 
Academy at Pisa, is quite ^zantine in style. The frescoee in the 
Oampo Santo at Pisa, so long attributed to him, are by another 


The resignation of the divine enfferer, iho lamenting 
angels, the fiiinting Virgin, the groups of Koman soldiers, 
are all paint«d with & troth and feeling quite wonderfiil 
for the time. Engravinga after Cavallini may be found 
in Ottley's ' Early Ilaliai iool,' and in Eosini (p. 21). 
He became the pupil of iotto when nearly forty years 
old, and survived liim only a ehort time, dying in 1340. 
With CavaUini bcgiDB the list of painters of the Roman 
school, afterwards so il istrioUH. Among the contom- 
pontries of Giotto we mnst refer once more to I>nccio of 
Sienna, whose great allarpioce has been already de- 
scribed. It is remarkabie, and shcmld be kept in remem- 
biuos, HuJt, of kII the schooU of painting then liHing in 
Italy, all more or lea modified by Hie Qiotteeqae style, 
the painters of Sienna alone retained a particular stamp 
(tf nationality, whioh in the ooone of two centuries they 
nerer wholly lost. While tlie school of Florence de- 
Teloped into inoreasing vigour, elegance, and dignity, 
that of Sienna leaned towards pathos and sentimeut — 
qualities remarkable in Dnccio and his successors, and 
iriiudt ebazaoterised the Sienna pictnres even when that 
peooliar paAetic graoe was afterwards modified by the 
grand drawing (£ the Florentine schooL Dnooio was an 
eetablished painter when Giotto was a ohild, and his 
infliMDoe in his native city remained long after death. 
Periiaps the perpetual enmity and jealousy between these 
two ftmons cities, and &eqaent sanguinary oonfiicts, 
MHtspired to keep the two nationalities at variance even 
in ait 

The scholars and imitators of Giotto, who adopted the 
new method (tl nwvo metodo), as it was then called, and 


who ooUectiyely are distingoisbed aa the Scuola Giottesca, 
may be divided into two classes : — 1. Tbose wbo were 
merely bis assistants and imitators, wbo confined tbem- 
selves to tbe reproduction of tbe models left by tbeir 
master. 2. Tbose wbo, gifted witb original genius, fol- 
lowed bis example ratber tban bis instructions, pursued 
tbe patb be bad opened to tbem, introduced better 
metbods of study, more correct design, and carried on in 
various departments tbe advance of art into tbe succeed- 
ing century. 

Of tbe first it is not necessary to speak. Among tbe 
men of great and original genius wbo immediately suc- 
ceeded Giotto, THREE must be especially mentioned for 
tbe importance of tbe works they bave left, and for tbe 
influence tbey exercised on tbose wbo came after tbem. 
Tbese were Andrea Orcagna, Simone Memmi, and Tad« 
deo Gaddi. 

Tbe first of tbose, Andrea Cioni, commonly called 
Andrea Orcagna, did not study under Giotto, but owed 
much indirectly to that vivifying influence whicb be 
breatbed through art. Andrea was the son of a goldsmith 
at Florence. The goldsmiths of tbe fourteenth and 
fifteenth centuries were in general excellent designers 
and not unfrequently became painters, as in tbe instances 
of Francia, Yerrocbio, Andrea del Sarto, &o, Andrea 
Orcagna apparently learned design under tbe tuition of 
bis father. Bosini places bis birth previous to tbe year 
1310 : in the year 1332 he had already acquired so much 
celebrity that be was called upon to continue tbe deco- 
ration of tbe Campo Santo at Pisa. 

This seems the proper place to give a more detailed 


accoont of one of the most extraordinary and interesting 
monuments of the middle agos. The Campo Santo of 
Piwi, like the Cathedral at Asaisi, was an arena in 
which the best artists of the time were smnnioned to 
try their powers ; bat the influence of the freBcoes in 
th*j Catapo Santo on the prc^ess and development of 
art w^s yet more direct and important than that of the 
paintings in the church of Assisi. 

The Campo Santo,* once a cemetery, though no longer 
osed as sacb, is an open space of about four hundred 
feet is length and one hundred and eighteen feet in 
breadth, enclosed with high walla, and an arcade, some- 
thing like the oloiaters of a monasteTy or oathedml, 
nnming all round it. Od the east side is a large chapel, 
and on the north two smaller chapels, where prayers 
and masses are celebrated for the repose of the dead. 
The open space was filled with 'earth brought &om 
the Holy Land by the merchant^hips of Pisa, which 
traded to the Levant in the days of its commeroial 
splendour. This open space, once sown with graves, is 
now covered with green turf. At the four comers are 
foar tall cypress-trees, their dark, monumental, spiral 
forms contiasting with a little lowly cross in the centre, 
ronnd which ivy or some other creeping plant has 
wound a Inxnriant bower. The beautiful Gothic ar- 
oade was designed and boilt about 1283 by Giovanni 
PiMtno, the son of the great Niccolo Pisano already 
This arcade, on the side next the burial- 
ia pierced by sixty-two windows of ele- 

m Osnpo Baato or " Holy Raid " ii the generic nam* of a 


gant traoeiy divided from each other by alender 
pilasters; upwards of six hundred sepulchral monii- 
ments of the nobles and citizens of Pisa are ranged 
along the marble pavements, and mingled with them 
are some antique remains of great beauiy, which the 
Pisans in former times brought from the Greek Isles. 
Here also is seen the &mous sarcophagus which first 
inspired the genitus of Niccolo Pisano, and in which had 
been deposited the body of Beatrice, mother of the 
£eunous Countess Matilda. The walls opposite to the 
windows were painted in the fourteenth and fifteenth 
centuries with Scriptural subjects. Most of these are 
half ruined by time, n^lect, and damp ; some only 
present fragments; here an arm — there a head; and 
the best preserved are faded, discoloured, ghastly in 
appearance, and solemn in subject. The whole aspeot 
of this singular place, particularly to those who wander 
through its long arcades at the close of day, when the 
figures on the pictured walls look dim and spectral 
through the gloom, and the cypresses assume a bladrar 
hue, and all the associations connected with its sacred 
purpose and its history rise upon the flEmcy, has in its 
silence and solitude, and religious destination, some- 
thing inexpressibly strange, dreamy, solemn, almost 
awful. Seen in the broad glare of noonday, the place 
and the pictures lose something of their power over the 
fancy, and that which last night haunted us as a vision, 
to-day we examine, study, criticise. 

The building of the Gampo Santo was soarody 
finished when the best painters of the time were sum- 
moned to paint the walls all round the interior with 

ftpprupriate subjecte. Tliig was a work of many years ; 
it was indeed continued at intervats ttrougL two cen- 
tnrie* ; and thua we have a aerieB of iUustrationB of the 
progreae of art during its first development, of the reli- 
gious influences of tJie t and even of the dress and 
manners of the people, loh are faithJiilly exhibited 
in eome of theee moat ex irdinaiy componittonB. To 
oomprohend them arigb we must finit consider the 
pmpose of the locality- >i place sacred to the dead. 
It was to remind those v came to meditate within iU 
precincts of the providenoe of Grod towards men, as 
fiKfempUfied in Scriptural hiKtory ; of the great sacrifice 
iriuoh brooght redemption; of the trontdes of himuui 
lifc ; ot iikeviteble death ; cpf resnrrection ; of the last 
judgment i and of the final destinies which await the 
goals of tlks just and the unjust. This was the geneial 

On Ate left, as we enter, we find the troubles of life 
T^zeaeiited in the history of Job, the great biblical 
^pe of suffering, faith, and patience. This oompart- 
meot was painted by Giotto, bat few fragments remain. 
On iba north wall opposite we find the history of Gtod's 
i<B»linp i with man : first, the Creation of the universe 
Mid of mankind ; then the whole series of events from 
the Fall and tbe Expulsion from Paradise, down to Da-vid 
and Solomon, including the history of the patriarchs 
Abel, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph ; the story 
of the Israelites and Mosea and Aaron ; ending with the 
Qneen of Sheba'a visit to Solomon. These were painted 
bf Benoexo Gtozzoli. Then on the east wall was the 
hifltor; of our Lord, now almost wholly efiaoed. On 


the sontli wall followed the Triumph of Death, the 
Future Life, the Last Judgment, and PuniBhment of 
the Wicked; these were painted by Andrea Orcagna. 
Paradise and the Blessedness of the Just were to have 
followed, but these were never executed ; and at a later 
period the Legends of the patron saints of Pisa, St 
Ranieri, St Efeso, and St. Potito, were painted on this 
portion of the wall. It is clear that, to understand the 
religious significance of these decorations of the Campo 
Santo, the subjects must be considered in the order I 
have followed. 

When Andrea Orcagna was summoned to Pisa, about 
1350, to continue the paintings on the walls of the 
Campo Santo, he selected those subjects which har- 
monised peculiarly with the destination of these sacred 
precincts : they were to represent in four great com- 
partments what the Italians call '*/ quattro novisshm,^* 
t. e. the four last or latest things — Death, Judgment, 
Hell or Purgatory, and Paradise ; but only three were 

The first is styled the Triumph of Death {11 TVmfo 
delta Morte). It is full of poetry, and abounding in ideas 
then new in pictorial art. On the right is a festive 
company of ladies and cavaliers, who by their fJEdcooB 
and dogs appear to bo returned from the chase. They 
are seated under orango-trees, and splendidly attired ; 
rich carpets are spread at their feet. A troubadour and 
singing-girl amuse them with flattering songs ; Cupids 
flutter around them and wave their torches. All the 
pleasures of sense and joys of earth are here united. 
On the left Death approaches with rapid flight — a feai^ 

hl-looking woman with wild streaming hair, elawB 
mtttad of nails, large bats' wings, and indeetn" 
wire-woTeu drapery. SI b« - n uO 

utd is on the [joint of mow: j i 

eompany. (This female impera oofDi 

posed to bo boiTOwed from Petrai whose ' I'rio 
della Mort« ' was written about thia time.) A host of 
corpeed clouely pressed together lie at her feet; by their 
insignia they are almost all to be rooogniEcd as the 
fbnner rulers of the world, kings, qneens, cardinals, 
bishops, princts, warriors, *fcc. Their sonla ribe out of 
them in the fonn of new-born iniants ; angels and de- 
mons are ready to receive them : the souls of the pious 
fold their hands in prayer, those of the oondenmed 
dirink back in horror. The angels are peculiarly yet 
happOy conceived, with bird-like forms and variegatdd 
plnmage ; the demons have the semblance of beasts of 
prey or of disgusting reptiles. They fight with each 
other. On the ri^t the angels ascend to heaven with 
those they have saved; while the demons drag their 
prey to a fiery mctmtaiu, vlsiUe on the left, and hnrl 
the souls down into the flames. Next to these corpses 
ii a crowd of be|Q;ai8 and cripples, who with out- 
ittetdied aims call upon Death to end their sorrows ; 
but she heeds not their prayer, and has already passed 
them in her flight. A rock separates this scene from 
uother, in which is represented a second hunting-party 
deaoending the mountain by a hollow path : here again 
are richly-attired princes and dames on horses splen- 
didly o^Muisoned, and a train of hunters with &loons 
and dogs. The path has led them to three open sepal- 


ohres in the left oomer of the piotuie ; in them lie the 
bodies of three prinoes, in di£ferent stages of decay. 
Close by, in extreme old age and supported on oratches, 
stands the old hermit St. Macarios, -who, turning to the 
princes, points down to this bitter ''Memento mori" 
They look on apparently with indifference, and one of 
them holds his nose, as if incommoded by the horrible 
stench. One queenly lady alone, deeply moved, rests 
her head on her hand, her countenance full of a pensive 
sorrow. On the mountain heights are several hermits, 
who, in contrast to the followers of the joys of the 
world, have attained in a life of contemplation and 
abstinence to a state of tranquil blessedness. One of 
them milks a doe, squirrels are sporting round him; 
another sits and reads ; and a third looks down into the 
valley, where the remains of the mighty are mouldering 
away. There is a tradition that among the personages 
in these pictures are many portraits of the artist's con- 

The second representation is the Last Judgment 
Above, in the centre, Christ and the Virgin are throned 
in separate glories. He turns to the left, towards the 
condemned, while he uncovers the wound in his side, 
and raises his right arm with a menacing gesture, his 
countenance full of majestic wrath. The Virgin, on 
the right of her Son, is the picture of heavenly mercy : 
she turns, with an appealing look, to our Lord ; with 
one hand pressed to the bosom which nourished Him, 
she pleads for sinners. On either side are ranged 
the prophets of the Old Testament, the apostles, and 
other saints — severe, solemn, dignified figures. Angels, 

bj Andm Omgnu- Group from tbr Cimpo Stnlo. 


holding Ae inBtniments of the PassioQ, hover over 
Clmel wid ihe Virgin : under them is a group of arch- 
uigels. First, the archangel Michael, a§ the " Angel of 
Jndgnient," stands in the midst, holding a scroll in each 
hind ; immediately before him another archangel, eup- 
foted to represent Bttphael, the guardian angel of 
bmiuuiitT. cowera down, shuddering, while two others 
mmd the awful trumpets of doom. Lower down is the 
einh, where men are seen rising from their graves ; 
■lined angels direct them to the right and left. Here is 
K*n Kin g Solomon, who. whilst he rises, seems doubt- 
fal to which side he should torn ; hero a bypocridcat 
monk, whom an anget draws back by the hair &om the 
boat of the hleesed ; and there a youth in a gay and 
rich costame, whom another angel leads away to Pant- 
diae. There is wonderful and even terrible power of 
eipreeaion in eome of the heads, aud it is said that 
among them are many portraits of contemporariea, but 
unfortunately no ciroumHtautial traditions as to parti- 
cular fignrea have reached us. The attiudea of Christ 
and the Virgin were afterwards borrowed by Michael 
Angelo, in his celebrated Last Judgment ; but, not- 
withstanding the perfection of his forms, he stands far 
below the dignified grandeur of the old master. Later 
painters have also borrowed from his arrangement of 
the patriarchs and apostles — particularly Fra Bartolo- 
meo and BaphaeL 

The third representation, directly succeeding the 
foregoing, is Hell. It is said to have been executed 
from a design of Andrea, by his brother Bernardo : it is 
■hogether inferior to the preceding representations in 


execution, and even in the oomposition. Here the 
imagination of the painter, unrestrained by any just 
rules of taste, d^enerates into the monstrotis and dis- 
gusting, and even the grotesque and ludicrous. Hell is 
here represented as a great rocky caldron, divided into 
four compartments rising one above the other. In the 
midst sits Satan, a fearful armed giant — ^himself a fiery 
furnace, out of whose body flames arise in different 
places, in which sinners are consumed or crushed. In 
other parts the condemned are seen spitted like fowls, 
and roasted and basted by demons, with other such 
atrocious fancies, too horrible and sickening for de- 
scription. The lower part of the picture was badly 
painted over, and altered according to the taste of the day, 
in the sixteenth century ; certainly not for the better. 

AxDREA Orcagna was also a sculptor. He executed, 
in 1359, the exquisitely beautiful and elaborate taber- 
nacle or shrine which the Florentines dedicated in the 
church called Or San Michele, and which is still to be 
seen there ; and, not loss consummate as an architect 
than as a sculptor and painter, he designed and built 
the graceful and beautiful portico in the Piazza del Gran 
Duca at Florence, called the Loggia dei Lanzi, and which, 
according to his design, was to have been continued all 
round the Piazza ; but the municipality could not afford 
the expense, the funds having been expended in the 
war with the Pisans ; and before the work could be com- 
pleted — and it still remains incomplete — Andrea died, 
about 1376.* 

• We have now in the National Gallery an undoubted picture by 
Andrea—a large altarpiece in three • large and nine Bmall dimioiM 


SimoQe Martini, usiml]y called Simone Memui, wae a 
painter of Sionna, of whom very few works remain, but 
tho friendahip of Petrarch has rendered his name illus- 
trious. Simone Memmi wftB employed at Avignon 
when it was the seat of the popes (abont i;i40), and 
there ho painted the portrait of Laura and presented it 
to Fotiaroh, who rewarded him with two Sonnets — and 
immortality. Simone also painted a famouB picture on 
the wall of the Spanish chapel in the church of Santa 
Uaria KovoUa at Florence, which may still be seen 
there ; it represents the Church militant and triumph- 
ant — wifh a grcjit number of figures, among which aro 
the portraits of Cimabue, Petrarch, and Laura. He also 
painted in the Campo Santo, and his piotures there are 
among the finest in expression and in grouping. They 
represented, on the Boutb wall oyer the door, the " As- 
Bnmption of the Tii^in Mary " — that is, her ascension 
into heaven — a subject often chosen in those times to 
ezprms the hope in a future life ; and the history of St 
Banieri, a natiTe of Pisa, who, for his pious life and 
wonderful miracles, was held in great respect by hia 
countrymen the Pisans. 

Simone Memmi also painted, in conjunction with 
AuBBOoio LoRENZErn, another Siennese painter, some 
very extraordinary frescoes in the Palazzo PubtAico, or 
Town-hall, of Sienna. I have also seen at Naples, in 
the church of San Lorenzo, a very interesting picture, 
representing St. Louis of Anjon, Bishop of Toulouse, 

— whioh if (hidi«d c«refiill;, with the azplAiutloDi in the Cat^ 
i, will gire a Ter; good idsB of the Duumer is whioh theae great 
rsr* put togather. 


crowning his brother, Bobert of Anjon, as King of 
Naples, while he is himself crowned by two angels. 
There is a beautiful little miniature, undoubtedly by 
him, in the Liverpool Museum, but we haye no spe- 
cimen in our National Gallery. Simone was certainly 
one of the most remarkable and interesting painters 
of his time, and quite independent of the influence of 
Giotto. He died about 1345. 

PiETRO LoRENZETTi painted in the Campo Santo the 
Hermits in the Wilderness: they are represented as 
dwelling in caves and chapels, upon rocks and moun- 
tains ; some studying, others meditating, others tempted 
by demons in various horrible or alluring forms, for 
such were the diseased fancies which haunted a solitary 
and unnatural existence. As the laws of perspective 
were then unknown, the various groups of hermits and 
their dwellings are represented one above another, and 
all of the same size, much like the figures on a china 
plate. It is, however, very interesting, and Lorenzetti 
repeated these scenes on a smaller scale in a picture 
now in the Gallery at Florence. 

Antonio Veneziano also painted in the Campo Santo, 
about 1387 ; and showed himself superior to all who had 
preceded him in feeling and grace, though inferior to 
Andrea Orcagna in sublimity. Spinello of Arezzo was 
next employed, about 1390. He painted the story of 
St. Ephesus. Spinello seems to have been a man of 
genius, but of most unregulated mind. Yasari tells 
a story of him which shows at once the vehemence of 
his fancy and his morbid brain. He painted a picture 
of the Fallen Angels, in which he had laboured to 

render the figure of SatAO as tenibte, aa f 

ilting as possible. The image, aa liA w wla J ayen . 
h, became fixed in hie fanoy, a 
Be dreamed that the Prium of Hell aiiiiMiiil I 
him under the horrible furm in whidi be I 
him, ojtd demanded why he should be tl 
bf wbat authority the painter had i 
abominably hideous, Spinello awoke in t«mr ; mxm 
■flerwards he became distrkcted, and an died, about the 


But leaving the Campo Santo, we mast retnm (o llie 
pi^ils of Giotto. The third alloded to «m Taukd 
Gadoi, the &TO«rita scholar of Giotto, and bis godaoB. 
Hia pictQtes are consideied the moat important woria 
of tbe 14th oentory : thc7 tfisemble the manner of Gtotto 
ID the feeling for trath, natnt«, and mmplicilj ; but we 
find in them improved execation, with evennMHebeant; 
and largeneaa and grandeur of etyie. His pictarea are 
namerouB : several are in the Academy at Florence and 
the Museum at Berlin ; and in our National Gallery are 
two large panels, which probably fimoed the two wing? 
of a central piece (an " Ekithnuied Madonna," or a ** Coro- 
nation of the Virgin"), filled with figures of saints wbo 
i^pear as if in attendance on some grand ceremony or 
some anperico- personage, all the heada being finely dis- 
criminated in chaiKcter. Also (lately acqaired) an 
altarpieoe dedicated to John the Baptist, repreaenting 
die B^tism of our Saviour, and subjects &om the his- 
tory at St John lielow, wbidi are worthy of etudy as 
examples at the style of Taddeo. There are four small 


pictures by him in the Louvre, and four more important 
in the Berlin Gallery. Between Taddeo Gaddi and 
Simone Memmi there existed an ardent friendship and a 
mutual admiration which did honour to both. He was, 
like many of the old painters, a skilful architect, and 
built the Ponte Yecchio at Florence, which is still 
standing, and still famous for the goldsmiths' shops 
which line it on each side. After Giotto's there was no 
name more celebrated in his time than that of Taddeo 
Gaddi. He died in 1366, leaving two sons, Agnolo and 
Giovanni, who were both painters. Another of Giotto's 
most famous followors was Tommaso di Stefano, called 
Giottino, or " the little Giotto," from the success with 
which he emulated his master. He was of a thoughtful, 
rather melancholy temperament, and seems to have 
thrown all the tenderness of his nature into a small pic- 
ture of the dead Saviour lamented by his Mother, the 
other Marios, and Nicodemus, which exists in the Flo- 
rence Gallery. 

I have mentioned here but a few of the most pro- 
minent names among the multitude of painters who 
flourished from 1300 to 1400 : before we enter on a new 
century we will take a general view of the progress of 
the art itself, and the purposes to which it was applied. 

The progress made in painting was chiefly by cany- 
ing out the principles of Giotto in expression and in 
imitation. Taddeo Gaddi and Simone excelled in the 
first ; the imitation of form and of natural objects was 
so improved by Stefano Fiorentino, that he was styled 
by his contemporaries II Scimia delta Natura^ *' the Ape 
of Nature." Giottino, the son of this Ste£ELno, and 


ethera, improved in colour, in eoftnees of execution, and 
in tlK- meaiw and mechanism of tlie art; but oil-pftint- 
ii^ was not yet iovtntcd, and linear perepeotivo was 
aiiknon~u. Engraving on copper, cutting in iroodj and 
printing were the inventiona of the nest century, Por*' 
bails wfio seldt'm paiBt«d, and then only of very di»* 
tingnislied perHons, introdnced into laige ooni positions, 
^e itoitation of natuml scenery, that is, hrndgcape paint- 
jy, as a branch of art, now euch a familiar eonreo of 
pleasure, was as yot uuthougbt of. When landscape 
was introduced into pictnreB as a backgrmmd or ac- 
cenoiy, it ttos merely to indicate the scene of the 
(toiy : ft rock represented a desert ; some formal trees, 
nrj like tnooms set on end, indicated a wood ; a bluish 
^Mce, sometimes with fishes in it, ^nifitd, rather than 
represented, a river or a sea ; yet in the midst of this 
^noranoe, this imperfect execution, and limited range 
of power, how exquisitely beautiful are some of the 
remains of this early time I affording in their simple, 
genuine grace, and Itrfly, earnest, and devont feeling, 
eiain{des of excellence which our modem painters are 
lieginning to feel and to nnderstand, and which the 
great Raphael himself did not disdain to stndy, and even 
to copy. 

As yet the purposes to which painting was applied 
vere almost wholly of a religious character. No sooner 
was a church erected than the walls were covered with 
reptesentations of sacred subjects, either from Scriptural 
history or the legends of saints. Devout individuals 
or fimiilies built and consecrated chapels; and then, 
Kt great cost, employed painters either to decorate the 


walls or to paint pictures for tlie altars ; the Madonna 
and Child, or the Crucifixion, were the fevonrite sub- 
jects ; the donor of the picture or founder of the chapel 
being often represented on his knees in a comer of the 
picture, and sometimes (as more expressive of humility) 
of most diminutive size, out of all proportion to the 
other figures. Where the object was to commemorate 
the dead, or to express at once the grief and the devo- 
tion of the survivors, the subject was generally a ** De- 
position from the Cross" — that is, our Saviour taken 
down from the cross, and lying in the arms of his 
afflicted mother. The doors of the sacristies, and of the 
presses in which the priests' vestments were kept, were 
often covered with small pictures of Scriptural subjects ; 
as were also the chests in which were deposited the 
utensils for the Holy Sacrament. Almost all the small 
moveable pictures of the 14th and 15th centuries which 
have come down to us are either the borders or small 
compartments cut out from the broken-up altarpieces 
of chapels and oratories, or they are from the panels of 
doors, from the covers of chests, or other pieces of eccle- 
siastical furniture. In those days the idea of having 
pictures of any kind, far less pictures representing the 
most awful scenes and mysteries of our religion, hung 
as mere ornaments upon the walls of a room, had never 
occurred to any one. 


grnsbed br the ^oA «x&mif£iikt3- mmnil auiiviH. Ik* 
Bpid iiniiiin^ III IB die ktK cflife.'^'&f bmtm^^ 
idnnce in ptukMOfUcBl iDgniiT. lor Aie ■ — '■■■■■i~ of 
cluBcd leNvnc tni I7 two graai pcsnK. <f ^Aadt 
tbc reailte lie timoft he^aaH '^te nkdli of aaknuiaiiaD — 
the inrentMm of ihe Mt of y^n^'ti^ ntd "fiie ^hhhstt 

Hie ] 

Benoisble period ««b ftitt boI Ieb in At fine arte; in 
p^Tfititig , tbe adcBlBm ctf *wl* in ^^p iiif ■■«■- 1^ odotUK, 
juHji^ of tke w^wimii moi ^ntiiHnH 'sdaaliB fcmetlT 
wed for tte pwrpwe, W in «iine sum JMtpu r iii >^ 
raits. B«t long Ixiisc liv pwwri*] adi^niiKi f£ -Aat "mI 
other iaqrovene^ in &e miriii irii tai^Uj^wiL 'Sum 
bad iieeDk stmg H^dH ^^^ to Ae moitHl devtui^ 
mmt of azt, of wUA^nliriv io ^^ ftfevr-wiiidklidm- 
we oome to treal IuAh' {f dte h iatm^ ' Had aSortB it 
individnal HrndL 

s S 

58 LORENZO GHIBERTI. [Bobs 1378. 

During the fourteenth oentnry the leading school of 
art was that of Florence, and we find all Italy filled with 
the scholars and imitators of Giotto ; but in the fifteenth 
century there was a manifest striving after originality 
of style, — a branching off into partictdar schools, dis- 
tinguished by the predominance of some particular cha- 
racteristic in the mode of treatment, — as expression, 
form, colour, the tendency to the merely imitative, or 
the aspiration towards the spiritual and ideal. At this 
time we begin to hear of the Neapolitan, Umbrian, 
Bolognese, Venetian, and Paduan schools as distinctly 
characterised ; but from 1400 to 1450 we still find the 
painters of Florence, Sienna, and Arezzo in advance of 
all the rest in power, invention, fertility, and in the 
application of knowledge and mechanical means to a 
given end : and as in the thirteenth century we traced 
the new influence given to modem art by Giotto back 
to the sculptor Niccolo Pisano, so in the fifteenth cen- 
tury we find the influence of another sculptor, Lorenzo 
Ghiberti, producing an effect on his contemporaries, 
mere especially his fellow-citizens, which, by develop- 
ing and perfecting the principles of imitation on which 
Giotto had worked, stamped that peculiar character on 
Florentine art which distinguished it all through the 
century of which we have now to speak, and the begin- 
ning of the next. 

For these reasons, the story of Ghiberti, and the 
casting of the famous doors of San Giovanni, may be 
considered as an epoch in the history of painting : we 
shall find, as we proceed, almost every great name, and 
every important advance in art, connected witili it 


ffireoUy or indirectly, while the Byetem of eomptlilion 
which has been adopted with regard to tho deeigns 
for onr Houses of Parliament and other public monn- 
meote lends a pdrticular interest and application to tliis 
beautiful anecdote. 

Florence, at the period of which we speak, was at 
&>i bead of all the states of Italy, and at the height of 
its prosperity. The g< vemment waa esaentially demo- 
cratic in spirit and foim; oTciy claes and interest in 
the stat«, the aristocracy, Iho military, merchants, trades- 
Bten, and mechanics, had each a duo eliare of power, and 
■erred to balance each other. Tho fiuaily of the Medici, 
who a centniy later seized on ihe sovereignty, were at 
Cub tiiue only among the most distingmshed citisenB, 
and memhera of a great mercantile house, at the head 
ot which was Giovanni, the father of Coemo de' Medict. 
The trades were divided into guilds or companiee, called 
Abti, which were represented in the government by 
twen^-fbnr Coksoli, or consols. It was the consnla of 
the gnild of merohaDts who, in the year 1401,'nnder- 
took to erect a second gate or door of bfoiuse to the 
Bq;FtiBt«ry of St. John, which should form a pendant to 
the first, executed in the preceding centnry (1330), by 
Andrea Fisano, from the designs of Giotto, and repre- 
senting in rich scnlptnre the varions events of the life 
of 8L John the Baptist.* To eqnal or surpass this 

* A VaftiMtery, u ita noms importe. Is su edifice uied for the 
pmpoHB of hvptiira, md almya dedicated to St. John the Bopttit. 
Iha Baptisterj of Sea Qioruuii at Florence u & large cb^wl of fto 
oetaiigalar foim, «arinoDDted by • dome: on three of the lidee are 
~ ia an appendage of the oathsdial, though separate 

60 LORENZO GHIBERTI. [Bobn 1378. 

beautiful door, which had been for half a oenttuy the 
admiration of all Italy, was the object proposed, and no 
expense was to be spared in its attainment. 

The Signoria, or members of the chief government, 
acting in conjunction with the Consoli, made known this 
munificent resolve through all Italy, and in consequence 
not only the best artists of Florence, but many from 
other cities, particularly Sienna and Bologna, assembled 
on this occasion, From among a great number, seven 
were selected by the Consdi as worthy to compete for 
the work, upon terms not merely just, but munificent. 
Each competitor received, besides his expenses, a fair 
indemnity for his labour for one year. The subject 
proposed was the Sacrifice of Isaac, and at the end of 
the year each artist was required to give in a design, 
executed in bronze, of the same size as one of the com- 
partments of the old door, that is, about two feet square. 

There wore thirty-four judges, principally artists, 
some natives of Florence, others strangers ; each was 
obliged to give his vote in public, and to state at the 
same time the reasons by which his vote was justified. 
The names of the seven competitors, as given by Yasari, 
were — Jacopo della Quercia, of Sienna ; Nioolo d' Arezzo, 
his pupil ; Simon da CoUe, celebrated alrecidy for his 
fine workmanship in bronze, from which he was sur- 
named Simon dei Bronzi ; Francesco di Yaldambrina ; 
Filippo Brunolleschi ; Donate, better known as Dona- 
telle ; and Lorenzo Ghiberti. 

Lorenzo was at this time about twenty-three ; he was 
the son of a Florentine named Clone, and of a &mily 
which had attained to some distinction in Florence. 


the moUier of Lorenzo, left a widow at an early age, 
nurried a worthy man uaiaed Bartoluccio, kuown for 
Hi ftkill aa a goldsmith. The goldsmilhs of those days 
were not merely artisans, but artists in the high House 
B word ; they generally wrought their own designs, 
£of figured and subjects from sacred or claaaical 
r, eoqnifiitely chased in relief, or engraved or ena- 
melled OD the shrines or chalices ntied in the Church 
■errice ; or Tases, dishes, sword-hillfi, and other imple- 

The arts of drawing and modelling, then essential to 
a goldsmith, as well »s pnictical skill in chioeUing, and 
fenndiug and casting metala, were taught to the young 
Lorenzo by his father-in-law ; and his progress was so 
npid, that at the age of nineteen or twenty he had 
alraod; secured to himself the patronage of the Prince 
Pandolfb Halatesta, Lord of Pesaro, and was employed 
in the deooratioTi of his palace when Bartolnccio sent 
him notioe of the terms of the competition for the exe- 
entioii of the doors of San Giovanni. Lorenzo imme- 
diately hastened to present himself as one of the com- 
petitors, and, on giving evidence of his acquired skill, 
he waa accepted among the elected seven. They had 
tach their workshop and fomace apart, and it is related 
that moat of them jealously kept their designs secret 
from the rest; but Lorenzo, 'who had all the modest 
lelf-aaBaiuioe of conscious genins, did not ; on the con- 
'tmy, he listened gratefnlly to any suggestion or criticism 
idiicb was offered, admitting his friends and distin- 
goished stnmgeis to his otelin- while his work was going 
forward. To this candonr he added a persevering 

62 LORENZO GHIBERTI. [Born 1378. 

courage ; for when, after incredible labour, be bad com- 
pleted bifi models, and made bis preparations for casting, 
some flaw or accident in tbe process obliged bim to 
begin all over again, be supplied tbis loss of time by 
tbe most unremitting labour, and at tbe end of tbe year 
be was not found bebind bis competitors. Wben the 
seven pieces were exhibited together in public, it was 
adjudged that tbe work of Quercia was wanting in 
delicacy and finish; that of Valdambrina confused in 
composition ; that of Simon da Colle well cast, but ill 
drawn ; that of Niccolo d'Arezzo heavy and ill-propor- 
tioned in the figures, though well composed ; in short, 
but three among the number united the various merits 
of composition, design, and delicacy of workmanship, 
and were at once preferred before the rest. These three 
were the work of Brunelleschi, then in bis twenty-fifth 
year ; Donatello, then about eighteen ; and Lorenzo 
Ghiberti, not quite twenty-three. The suffrages seemed 
divided ; but after a short pause, and the exchange of 
a few whispered words, Brunelleschi and Donatello 
withdrew, generously agreeing and proclaiming aloud 
that Lorenzo had excelled them all, that to him alone 
belonged the prize ; and this judgment, as honourable 
to themselves as to their rival, was confirmed €Lmid the 
acclamations of the assembly.* 

* The three are preeerred in the Camera de* Bronzi, in the Florence 
Gallery ; and in the set of engravings from the three doors, pub- 
lished by LaAinio, the designs by Qhiberti and Brunelleschi ars 
placed side by side, and may be compared. The superiority of the 
former, in point of elegance, is at once apparent. See 'Le tre 
Porte del Battisterio di San Qiovanni di Firenze, incise ed Hlostrate,' 
1821. There is a copy in the British Museum. 


The citizena of Florence were probably uot 1 
sLroos than wo should be m onr day to behold ti 
p]«tioD of a work begun with ho much eoliimnity. But 
the great artist who had undertaken it vae nut hurried 
into cai^leasness by Uii u patienc« or bis onri ; nor 
did he contract to fimel it, like a blackamith'a job, in a 
gi'-ven time. Ife set at lut it with all due gravity and 
oonsideratioii, yet, us be deacribee his own feelings in 
his own words, con grandtgsima dUigenza e grandisdmo amotr, 
" with iafiuitfi diligence and infinite love." He began 
hia designs and models in 1402, and in twenty-two 
years from that time, that is. in 1424, the door waa 
finished and erected in its place. As in the first door 
Andrea Pisano had chosen for his theme the life of John 
the Baptist, the precursor of the Savionr, and the patron 
nint of the B^tistery, Lorenzo, continued the history 
of the Bedemptdon in a series of subjects from the An- 
nnnciation to the descent of the Holy Qhost ; these he 
represented in twen^ panels or compartments, t«n on 
eioh <^ the folding-doors, and below theee eight others 
containing the fnll-length effigies of the fbnr evangelists 
md the four doctors of the Latin Church — grand, ma- 
jeatio figares ; — and all around a border of rich om»- 
menls, froit, and foliage, and beads of the prophets and 
the sibyls intermingled, wondrous fi>r the beauty of the 
design and excellence of the workmanship ; the whole 
was cast in bronze, and weighed tbirty-fonr thousand 
pounds of metaL 

Snoh was the glory which this great work conferred 
not only on Lorenzo himself, but the whole ci^ of 
^ tiiat he was regarded as a public bene&ctor. 

64 LORENZO GHIBERTI. [Born 1378. 

and shortly afterwards the same company confided to 
him the execntion of the third gate of the scone edifice. 
The gate of Andrea Pisano, formerly the principal 
entrance, was removed to the side, and Lorenzo was 
desired to construct a central door which was to surpass 
the two lateral ones in beauty and richness. He chose this 
time the history of the Old Testament, the subjects being 
selected by Leonardo Bruni d'Arezzo, diancellor of the 
republic, and represented by Ghiberti in ten compart- 
ments, each two and a half feet square, beginning with 
the Creation, and ending with the Meeting of Solomon 
and the Queen of Shcba ; and he enclosed the whole in 
an elaborate border or frame composed of intermingled 
fniits and foliage, and full-longth figures of the heroes 
and prophets and prophetesses of the Old Testament, 
standing in niches, to the number of twenty-four, each 
about fourteen inches high, wonderful for their various 
and appropriate character, for correct, animated design, 
and delicacy of workmanship. This door, of the same 
material and weight as the former, was assigned to him 
in 1424, and the ten compartmentB finished in 1447 ; 
but the ornaments and small figures around were not 
completed till 1450 ; the whole was gilt and set np in 
its place by Lorenzo and his son Vittorio in 1452. 

It is especially worthy of remark that ihe only fiiult 
of these otherwise faultless works was precisely that 
character of style which rendered them so influential as a 
school of imitation and emulation for painters. The sub- 
jects are in sculpture, in relief, and cast in the hardest, 
severest, darkest, and most inflexible of all manageable 
materials — in bronze. Yet they are treated throughout 

From Uk Oat» of San Giannnl. 

BDcfa more in accordance with the principlee of paint- 
iiiii; than wiih those of sculpture. We have here groups 
J figures, near or receding from the eye in 
jdit gTadatJoDa of size and relief, according lo the rales 
of perepectire ; different actions of the same atory re- 
fffeseitted on different planes; buildings of elaborate 
■rchitectQre ; luudscape, trees, and animalfi : in short, 
1 dramatic and eccnJc style of conceplioQ and effect 
«holly opposed to the iieTcre simplicity of clAsaical 
Kolpture. Ghibcrti's genius, notwithstanding the in- 
flexible material in which he embodied his conoeptioiia, 
a its natural bent pictorial rather than sculptural ; 
ac'h jwmel of his liouiliful gates ia, iu fact, a pic- 
tore in relief, and niuet be cousiderc-d and judged &6 
mil. Regarding them in this point of view, and not 
iot|jectiiig them to those nden of criticism which apply 
' lo ecolpture, we shall be able to appreciate the antonish- 
ing fertility of invention exhibited in the various deitignB 
—the felicitj- and clearncee widi which every story is 
' told, the grace and naivtie ;{ some i)f l!it.- figure^,' the 
Bmple grandeur of others, the luxuriant fkncy displayed 
in the ornaments, and the perfection with which the 
whole is executed; and to echo the energetic praise of 
Hidiael Angelo, who pronounced these gates " leortln/ to 
fe the Gates t^ Paradiee!" 

Complete eeta of casts from tliese celebrated oomposi- 
tioiis are now to be found in moet-of the collections and 
academies on the Continent. King Louis Philippe pre- 
lented a set to our Govemment School of DesigiL In 

a p«rf«et azunpla of thii gnoa 



[BORV 1378. 

the Crystal Palace a set of the casts, with all the oma- 
ments, has been most ardstioaUy put together and 
coloured in imitation of bronze, so as to give a very 
perfect idea of the present state of these gates ; it must 
not be forgotten, however, that they were originally 

Lorenzo Ghiberti died in the year 1455, at the age of 
seventy-seven. His former competitors, Brunelleschi 
and Donatello, remained his friends through life, and 
have loft behind them names not less celebrated, the 
one as an architect, the other as a sculptor. 

This is the history of those famous gates 

** So marvellously wrought, 
That they might serve to be the gates of Heaven ! " 


Banti 1397, B 

CbxTEiEPDaiST witli Lorenzo Ghiberti lived two painters, 
both gifted with BorpaaBing genioa, both of a. religions 
Older, being professed monks ; in all other respects the 
Tsiy antipodes of each other ; and we find the very oppo- 
■he impolses ^ven by these remarkable men prevailing 
through the rest of the century at Florence and else- 
where. From this period we date the great schism in 
modem art, though the seeds of this diversity of feeling 
ud purpose were sown in the preceding century. We 
.now find, on the one side, a race of painters who culti- 
Tited with astonishing success all the mental and me- 
dianical aids that could be brought to bear on their 
poteetdon ; profoundly versed in the knowledge of the 
homaa form, and intent on studying and imitating the 
various effects of nature in colour and in light and shade, 
without any other aspiration than the representation of 
beauty for its own sake, and the pleasure and the triumph 
of difficnltiea overcome, Ontheotherhand, wefindarace 

68 FRA FILIPPO LIPPI. [Bobs 1400. 

of painters to whom the cultiyation of art was a sacred 
vocation — the representation of beanty a means, not an 
end ; by whom Nature in her varions aspects was studied 
and deeply studied, but only for the purpose of embodying 
whatever we can conceive or reverence as highest, holiest, 
purest in heaven and earth, in such forms as should best 
connect them with oar intelligence and with our sym- 

The two classes of painters who devoted their genius 
to these very diverse aims have long been distinguished 
in German and Italian criticism as the NaturaUsU and 
the Idealists or Mystics^ and these denominations are now 
becoming familiarized in our own language. During the 
fifteenth century wo find in the various schools of art 
scattered through Italy those different aims more or less 
apparent, sometimes approximating, sometimes diveiging 
into extremes, but the distinction always apparent ; and 
the influence exercised by those who pursued their art 
with such very different objects — with such veiy dif- 
ferent feelings — was of course different in its resolt 
Painting, however, during this century was still almost 
wholly devoted to ecclesiastical purposes; it deviated 
into the classical and secular in only two places, Florence 
and Padua. 

In the convent of the Carmelites, whero Masaccio 
painted his famous frescoes, was a young monk, one 
whom poverty had driven, as a child, to take refuge 
there, and who had afterwards taken the habit from 
necessity rather than from inclination. His name was 
FiLiPFO LiPPi (which may be translated Philip the son 
of Philip), but he is known in the histoiy of art as Fn 

Drra 1*69.] HB ADVENTURES. 

FDippo (Friar ITiilip). In liin), as in many others, the 
lent of Uie genios was early decided, for nature bad 
m^e him a painter." He was encouraged and employed 
by his Superior; I>ut resllees, ardent, and abandoned to 
the poTBuit of pleasure, be at length broke from the 
convent and escaped to Ancona, The reel of his life ia 
> romance. On an wtcoraion to eea he waa taken by the 
African pirates, sold as a filave in Barhary, and remained 
in captivity eighteen months. With a piece of charcoal 
he drew his master's picture on a wall, and so excited 
his admiration that he gave him his freedom, and dis- 
tni^ed him with presenta. Fra Filippo then Tctnrned 
Id Italy, and at Naples and at Home gained eo much 
celebrity by the beauty of his performances, that his 
crime as a runaway monk was overlooked, and, nnder 
the patronage of the Medici family, he ventured to return 
to Florence, There ho painted a great number of ad- 
mirable pictures, and was called npon to decorate many 
eopT e nta and churches in the neighbourhood. Hie life 
dnring all this time appean to have been most scandal- 
ona, eren without consideration of his religious habit; 
Bid the STuns of money he obtained by the practice of 
hia art were squandered in profligate pleasures. Being 
called npon to paint a Madonna for the convent of St. 
Kargaret at Frato, he persuaded the sisterhood to allow 
a beaatifnl novice, whose name was Lucretia Buti, to sit 
to him for a model. In the end he seduced this girl, and 

* On a oompariioii of d>t«s it appean that EVa fWppo did not 
owa Ua Snt inapinlioii to Maaaccio, for ha was at leaat thirt; yeara 
of t^ when the b-eacooa in Iht cliapel of the Carmine vera under- 

70 FRA FILIPPO LIPPI. [Bork 1400. 

carried bor o£f from the convent, to the great scandal ci 
the community and the inexpressible grief and horror of 
her father and £eanily. Filippo was then an old man, 
nearly sixty : but for his great fame and the powerful 
protection of the Medici, he would have paid dearly for 
this offence against morals and religion. His friends 
Cosmo and Lorenzo de' Medici obtained from the pope 
a dispensation from his vows, to enable him to many 
Lucretia, but he does not seem to have been in any 
haste to avail himself of it. The family of the girl, 
unable to obtain any public reparation for their dis- 
honour, contrived to avenge it secretly, and Fra FUippo 
died poisoned, at the ago of sixty-nine. 

This libertine monk was undoubtedly a man of extra- 
ordinary genius, but his talent was degraded by his 
immorality : he adopted and carried on all the improve- 
ments of Masaccio, and was the first who invented that 
particular style of grandeur and breadth in the drawing 
of his figures, the grouping, and the contrast of light 
and shade, afterwards carried to such perfection by 
Andrea del Sarto. He was one of the earliest painters 
who introduced landscape backgrounds, painted with 
some feeling for the truth of nature ; but the expression 
ho gave to his personages, though always energetic, 
was often inappropriate, and never calm or elevated : 
in the representation of sacred incidents he was some- 
times fantastic and sometimes vulgar ; and he was the 
first who desecrated such subjects by introducing the 
portraits of women who happened to be the objects of 
his preference at the moment. There are many pictores 
by Fra Filippo in the churches at Florence, particnlaily 

Km. i«6.] works of FBJL PELIPPO. 7V 

ill the Atigostine church of the Santo Spirito ; two in 
the gallery of the Academy there ; five in tho Berlin Mu- 
eeom. In the Lonvre there is one nndoubledly genuine, 
»nd of great beauty, marked by all his characteriatics ; 
it i«prBs«nt4 the Madonna Standing, and holding the 
infant Saviour in her arme; on each side are angels; 
tnd two bishops of tho Augustine Order, St. Frediano 
■nd St. Gregory, kneel in front. Tho uttitiide of the 
Virgin is grand, the head oonunonplace ; the counte- 
nance of the infant Christ heavy; tho angels, with 
ciieped hair, have the facea of street urchins ; but the 
adoring monks are wonderful for the fine espreeeion in 
their upturned faoes, and the whole picture is most 
admirably ezeonted. It was painted for the church of 
die Santo Spiriio at Florence, and is a celebrated pro- 
duction. In our National Gallery we have now (sinoe 
1S57) one of the most beautiful pictures ever painted 
)iy Fra Filippo, executed, it is supposed, when ho was 
alxnit fiTe-ond-twenty. It repreeenta the Yirgin lAiay 
enthroned, with the infant Saviour standing on her knee. 
He wears a coral necklace and bracelets, and raises his 
little hand in benediction. The haea of all the fignree 
in this picture are deficient in beauty, but the head of 
fite Virgin is sometliing better than beautiful, and in 
dte whole group there is a dignity and soleninity which 
¥n Filippo did not attain in his later works. We have 
■Iflo another remarkable and autbentio picture by Fra 
Klippo, "the Vision of St. Bernard." This eitraordi- 
naiy nun died Kbout 1469. He left a son, Filippo Lippi, 
called Filippino (to diBtingnieh him from his father), 
who became in after years an excellent painter. 

72 ANGELICO DA HESOLE. [Born 1387. 

. Contemporary with Fra Filippo, or rather earlier in 
point of date, lived the other painter-monk, presenting 
in his life and character the strongest possible contrast 
to the former. He was, as Yasari tells ns, one who 
might have lived a very agreeable life in the world, had 
he not, impelled by a sincere and fervent spirit of devo- 
tion, retired from it at the age of twenty to bury himself 
within the walls of a cloister : a man with whom the 
practice of a beautiful art was thenceforth a hymn of 
praise, and every creation of his pencil an act of pietj 
and charity, and who, in seeking only the gloiy of Gk)d, 
earned an immortal glory among men. This was Fra 
Giovanni Angeuoo da Fiesole, whose name, before he 
entered the convent, was Guido or Guideline. He has 
since obtained, from the holiness of his life, the title of 
Jl Beato, " the Blessed," by which he is often mentioned 
in Italian histories of art. He was bom in 1387, near 
Fiesole, and in 1407, being then twenty, and already 
skilled in the art of painting, particularly miniature 
illuminations of Missals and choral books, he, with one 
of his brothers named Benedetto, abo a painter, entered 
the Dominican convent of St. Mark at Florence, and 
took the habit of the Order. It is not known exactly 
under whom he studied, but he is said to have been 
taught by Stamina, the best colourist of that time. The 
rest of his long life of seventy years presents only one 
unbroken tranquil stream of placid contentment and 
pious labours. Except on one occasion, when called to 
Eome by Pope Nicholas V. to paint in the Vatican, he 
never left his convent, and then only yielded to the 
express command of the pontiff. While he was at Bome 

.tCOHaPliS'NVfEJlOI.PAIliFS'll.lV"WOCHiiVO"£HL''tHESWi-Jt:Ci-C \ 

'm t 


the Aicbbishopric of Florence became vacant, and tbe 
pope, stmck by tbe Tirtae and learning of Angelico, 
and tbe simplicity and sanctity of bis life, ofifered to 
install bim in tbat dignity, one of tbe greatest in tbe 
power of tbe papal see to bestow. Angelico refused it 
from excess of modesty, pointing out at tbe same time 
to the notice of tbe pope one of tbe monks of bis con- 
tent as mncb more wortby of tbe bonour, and by bis 
actiye talents more fitted for tbe office. Tbe pope lis- 
tened to bis recommendation ; Frate Antonio was raised 
to the see, and became celebrated as tbe best Arcbbisbop 
of Florence that had been known for two centuries. 
Mcaiitiiiie Angelico pursued his vocation in the still 
prerinctti of his q^^i^'t monaster^-, and, being as assiduous 
as he was devout, he painted a gieat number of pic- 
tures, some in distemper and on a small scale, to which 
he gave all the delicacy and finish of miniature; and in 
Lis own convent of San Marco many large frescoes, with 
immeruus figures nearly life size, as full of grandeur as 
of beauty. lie painted only sacred subjects, and never 
fjr money. Those who wished for any work of his 
haml were obliged to apply to the prior of the convent, 
from whom Angelico received with humility the order 
or the pennission to execute it, and thus the brother- 
ho>d was at once enriched bv his talent and edified bv 

k t. 

his virtue. To Angelico the act of painting a picture 
devoted to religious puq)oses was an act of religion, for 
which he ]>repared himself by fasting and prayer, im- 
ploring on bended knees the benediction of Heaven on 
his work : he then, under the impi*ession that he had 


obtained the blessing he sought, and growing with what 
might truly be oalled inspiration, took up his pencil ; 
and mingling with his earnest and pious humility a sin- 
gular species of self-uplifted enthusiasm, he could never 
be persuaded to alter his first draught or composition, 
believing that which he had done was according to the 
will of Gk)d, and could not be changed for the better by 
any afteilhought of his own or suggestion from others. 
All the works left by Angelico are in harmony with 
this gentle, devout, enthusiastic spirit. They are not 
remarkable for the usual merits of the Florentine school : 
they are not addressed to the taste of connoisseurs, bnt 
to the faith of worshippers. Correct drawing of the 
human figure could not be expected from one who 
regarded the exhibition of the undraped form as a sin ; 
in the learned distribution of light and shade, in the 
careful imitation of nature in the details, and in variety 
of expression, many of his contemporaries excelled him ; 
but none approached him in that poetical and religious 
fervour which he throw into his heads of saints and 
Madonnas. Tower is not the characteristic of Angelico ; 
wherever ho has had to express energy of action, or 
bad or angry passions, he has generally failed. In his 
pictures of the Crucifixion and the Stoning of St. 
Stephen, the executioners and the rabble are feeble and 
often ill drawn, and his fallen angels and devils are 
anything but devilish ; while, on the other hand, the 
pathos of suffering, of pity, of divine resignation — ^the 
expression of extatic faith and hope, or serene con- 
templation, have never been placed before us as in his 



pictitres. In the heads of his young angels, in the 
parity and beatitnde of his female saints, he has never 
heen exoelled — not even hy Baphael. 

The principal works of Angelico are the frescoes in 
the church of his own convent of St. Mark at Florence ; 
an exquisite reliquary or tabernacle, painted in minia- 
ture, in the sacristy of Santa Maria Novella ; another 
lazge tabernacle of an enthroned Madonna in the 
Florence Gallery, in which the angels are surprising 
for their celestial grace; at Eome, the stories of St. 
Lawrence and St. Stephen in the chapel of Nicholas Y. 
In the Louvre is an altarpiece by him of surjiassing 
beauty. The subject is the Coronation of the Virgin 
Mary by her son the Redeemer, in the presence of saints 
and angels. It represents a throne under a rich Gothic 
ctuiopy, to which there is an ascent by nine steps ; on 
the highest kneels the Virgin, veiled, lier hands crossed 
on her bosom. She is clothed in a red tnnic, a blue 
robe over it, and a royal mantle with a rich border 
flowing down behind. The features are most delicately 
lovely, and the expression of the fiico full of humility 
and adoration. Christ, seated on the throne, bends for- 
ward, and is in the act of placing the crown on her 
head ; on each side are twelve angels, who are playing 
a heavenly concert with guitars, tambourines, trumpets, 
viols, and other musical instruments ; lower than these, 
on each side, are fort}- holy personages of the Old 
and New Testament; and at the foot of the throne 
kneel several saints, male and female, among them St. 
Catherine with her wheel, St. Agnes with her lamb, and 

E 2 

76 ANGEUCO DA FIESOLE. [BoRsr 1387. 

St. Cecilia crowned with flowers. Beneath the prin- 
cipal picture there is a row of seven small ones, forming 
the predolla, and representing various incidents in the life 
of St. Dominic. The whole measures ahout seven and a 
half feet high by six feet in width. It is painted in 
distemper; the glories round the heads of the sacred 
personages are in gold ; the colours are the most deli- 
cate and vivid imaginable, and the ample draperies have 
the long folds which recall the school of Giotto ; the 
gaiety and harmony of the tints, the expression of the 
various heads, the divine rapture of the angels with 
their air of inmiortal youth, and the devout reverence 
of the other personages, the unspeakable serenity and 
beauty of the whole composition, render this picture 
worthy of the celebrity it has enjoyed for more than 
four centimes. It was painted by Frate Angelico for 
the church of St. Dominic at Fiesole, where it remained 
till the beginning of the present century-. How obtained 
it does not appear, but it was purchased by the French 
Government in 1812, and is now to be seen in the 
long gallery of the Louvre, on the left hand near the 

It is a curious circumstance that the key of the chapel 
of Pope Nicholas V. in the Vatican, in which Angelico 
painted some of his most beautiful frescoes, was for two 
centuries lost, and few persons were aware of their 

* A very good set of outlines were engraved and published at 
Paris, with explanatory notes by A. W. Schlegel ; and to those who 
have no opportunity of seeing the original, these engravings will 
convey some faint idea of the composition, and of the esquisite and 
benign beauty of the angelic heads. 

9 14SS.] 

nutsnoe, fewer etill set any value on tbeni. In 1769 
those who wished to eee item n-cre oliliged to e&ter by 
a window. 

Ftb Giovanni Angelico da Fiesole died at Rome in 
itoci, nnd 19 buried there in the chnroh of Santa Morift 
vy/rti Jtinerm, where his monument may now bo Been 
and contemplated with that reverence due to bis excol- 
hng powers as an artist and hia most pious and blameleta 

{ 78 ) 


Born 1400, died 1443. 

It is easily conceivable that, during the forty years 
which Lorenzo Ghiberti devoted to his great work, and 
to other undertakings on which ho was employed at in- 
tervals, the assistance he required in completing his own 
designs, in drawing, modelling, casting, polishing, should 
have formed round him a school of young artists who 
worked and studied under his eye. The kind of work 
on which they were employed gave these young men 
great superiority in the knowledge of the human form, 
and in effects of relief, light and shade, &c. The appli- 
cation of the sciences of anatomy, mathematics, and 
geometry to the arts of design, began to be more folly 
understood. This early school of painters was favour- 
ably distinguished above the later schools of Italy by a 
generous feeling of mutual aid, emulation, and admira- 
tion among the youthful students, far removed from the 
detestable jealousies, the stabbings, poisonings, and con- 
spiracies, which we read of in the seventeenth century. 
Among those who frequented the atelier of Lorenzo were 
Paolo Uccello, the first who applied geometry to the 
study of perspective ; he attached himself to this pursuit 
with such im wearied assiduity, that it had nearly turned 

mcnto vl Eadid ;* Hmi 

art td eogTwing on ee|q 

who (tndied anatoanj bj 

iiHtntctor of Hidnel J.apk>: mai 

kett ednekled mder Stamiak, tbe beil 


Pidui UosUD wtM oae «f ^ fint «f ^ a 
vtto flndied tl»e imitolioti of annmH*. j 
(UoctBi, — idwiiee be derired bia nrwif ) ■ 
He ueietod Gbiberti in tDodeDi^ &e i 
fali^e introduced into faia fint act of ^Abk, ud Vr Ins 
lltete is ■ c n ik w fsctoR (liteh- aoqurcd) ia ohf X»- 
tional 6«IIet7, • Tbe BdOie of Swt' i^idio' < ;i4]«>. ia 
ubidi CWilo Uakteata of BiniBi u^ bis wj^ev G*- 
Imm were taken i 

his &irbuT v 

I pnatncn 

is bistoricall J" intmsting «>d n 

tf csrioaa, a* &e ewfieit 

■ppear to na alwitatelf Hieles md wedcm, wetc vik- 
deifid for dkc tinw. 

Tlten ~TT r^m J E^"~ rrTtrhrTa bii trifi. ^bi 

kamed to dnw and Bodel by i<i1jit &e wwba td 
Gkibeiti, and «bo, tbo^ Bot eo^ibred M kM dM^de, 
ifiarawhileleftallthenKaln'p^xk&rbckiDdUM. Be 
kid ooae from a tittle nOage abovt ei^deeM tmitmhvm 
norance, oaUed Saa Gitnaani, sad of bia jwn ■!■(,< a»d 
mxij yean little ia noorded, ami &aA Htde >■ dewbtfid. 
ffia Bune waa pwiperi y ToMXiW Grmo, or, from &e 

80 MASACCIO. [BOBN 1400. 

place of his birth, Maso di San Giovanni ; but from his 
abstracted air, his utter indifiference to the usual sports 
and pursuits of boyhood, his negligent dress and manners, 
his companions called him Masacdo, which might be 
translated ugli/ or slovenly Tom ; and by this reproachful 
nickname one of the most illustrious of painters is now 
known throughout the world and to all succeeding gene- 
rations. Masaccio was one of those rare and remarkable 
men whose vocation is determined beyond recall almost 
from infancy. He made his first essays as a child in his 
native village ; and in the house in which he was bom 
they long preserved the eflfigy of an old woman spinning, 
which he had painted when a mere boy on the wall of 
his chamber, astonishing for its life-like truth. Coming 
to Florence when about thirteen, ho studied (according 
to Vasari) under Masolino, who was then employed on 
the frescoes of the chapel of the Brancacci family, in the 
church of the Carmelites. Masolino died soon after, 
leaving his work unfinished ; but Masaccio still con- 
tinued his studies, acquiring the principles of design 
under Ghiberti and Donatello, and the art of perspective 
under Brunelleschi. The passionate energy and forget- 
fulness of all the common interests and pleasures of life 
with which he pursued his favourite art obtained him, 
at an early age, the notice of Cosmo de' Medici. Then 
intervened the civil troubles of the republic : Cosmo was 
banished ; and Masaccio left Florence to pursue his 
studies at Rome with the same ardour, and with all the 
advantages afiforded by the remains of ancient art col- 
lected there. 

While at Rome, Masaccio painted in the church of San 




Clemente a Crucifixion, and eome Gcenee from the life of 
Sl Cattierino of Alexaudria ; but, unhappily, these have 
be«& BO coarsely painted over, that every veetigo of 
Uafiicoio's hand has disappeai-ed— only the composition 
nrxiaias ; nod from the i agravings which exist Home idea ^_ 
may be formed of their ueattty and simplicity.* ^H 

Co&mo de' Medici waa recalled from banishment hi ^H 
1433; and Boon aAet^ards, probably throngh his patron- 
age and inflnence, the completion of the chapel of St. 
Peter in the church of the Carmine, left unfinished by 
MasoUao, was intrusted to Masacoio. 

This chapel is in the form of a parallelogram, and 

three aides are covered with the frescoes, divided into 
twelve compartments, of which four are large and oblong, 
and the rest narrow and upright. All Kpresent scenes 
from the life of St. Peter, except t;wo, which are imme- 
diately on each side as yon enter — Adam and Eve in 
Paradise, and the Expulsion from Paradise— which are 
here introdnced becaose St. Peter, according to the 
popular legend, was keeper of the gates of Paradise. Of 
the twelve compartments, two had been painted by 
Masolino previous to 1415 — the Preaching of St. Peter, 
one of the small compartments, a&dthe St. Peter and St. 
John healing the Cripple, one of the largest. In this 
fresco are introduced two beautiful youtlis, or p^es, in 
the dress of tne patricians of Florence. Nothing can be 
more unaffectedly el^ant ; they would make us regret 
that the death of Uasolino left others to complete his 

* In Ottley* 'Early Italiui School' there U in engnnng of St. 
CttlMrise dUpnting nitb the Heathen Philoeoph«n. In Itosiai ai-a 
oUwn. Both these worki ma; be eonmilted in the British Miueum. 

82 MilSACCIO. [BOBN 1400. 

undertaking, had he not been sncoeeded by Masaocio and 
Filippino Lippi. 

Six of the compartments, two large and four small 
ones, were executed by Masaooio. These represent St 
Peter taking the Tribute-money from the mouth of the 
fish ; Peter raising a Youth to Life ; Peter baptizing the 
Converts ; Peter and John healing the Sick and Lame ; 
the same Apostles distributing Alms ; and the Expulsion 
of Adam and Eve from Paradise. 

The woodcut will give some idea of the groups in one 
of these large compartments. The scene represented is 
one of the incidents in the apocryphal History of the 
Apostles. Simon the Magician challenged Peter and 
Paul to restore to life a dead youth, who is said to have 
been a kinsman or nephew of the Roman emperor. The 
sorcerer fails of course. The Apostles resuscitate the 
youth, who kneels before them ; the skull and bones near 
him represent the previous state of death : a crowd of 
spectators stand around beholding the miracle. The 
figures are half the size of life, and quite wonderful for 
the truth of expression, the variety of character, the 
simple dignity of the forms and attitudes. Masaccio died 
while at work on this grand picture, and the central 
group was painted some years later by Filippino Lippi, 
the son of Fra Filippo. The figure of the youth in the 
centre is traditionally said to be that of the painter 
Granacci, then a boy. Among the figures standing 
roimd are several contemporary portraits : Piero Guic- 
ciardini, father of the great historian ; Luigi Pulci, the 
poet, author of the ' Morgante Maggiore ;' Antonio Pol- 
laiuolo, the painter ; and others. 



£>iw> IU3.] nUPPINO LIPI'I. 

The fresco of tbe two Apostles Peter and John accused 
hy Simon Magna before the throne of J* oro, and the Cm- 
eifixion of Peter, are now attribnled to Filippico Lippi. 
To him also belongs the grand figure uf St. Paul standing 
before the I'riaoo of St. Peter (alao shown in the wood- 
cat), which Baphael transferred with little alteration 
into his cartoon of St, Paul preaching at Atliens. The 
four remaining compartments were added mauj- jearH 
later (about 1470), by the some Filippino Lippi, of whom 
I must 6*y a few words here, as wc have lately acquired 
two of his pictures for the National Gallery, which 
indeed caimot be accounted amoug his beet, but are 
genuine and valuable. He was the son of Fn Filippo 
and Lucrezia Bnti ; and his father, dying when he was 
about nine years old, bequeathed him to the love and 
care of another pMnter-monk, his friend Fra Diamante. 
With him and Sandro Botticelli, an admirable ai-tist of 
that time, Filippino pursued his studies, and, gifted with 
aU the geniuB of his father, but without his faults, hu 
became one of the greatest painters of that time. There 
is a picture by him, painted when he was about twenty, 
in the chnioh of the Badia at Florence, which for draw- 
ing, expression, Tigorous colonr, and bean^ of every 
kind, appeared to me a wonder, even without regard to 
tbe earl; age of the painter when it was executed. It 
repreeents the Vision d[ St, Bernard (the same subject 
punted by his &ther and in our National Gallery, but 
treated in a very different manner). Another most ad- 
Durable picture by him is the altarpieoe of the enthroued 
Madonna and Child, attended by St. John the Baptist, 

84 MASACCIO. [B0R» liOO. 

St. Zenobio, St Bernard, and St Yittorio, painted for the 
chapel of the Palazzo Pnbblico, and now in the Gallery 
of Florence ; and in the same gallery is the Adoration of 
the Magi — a richly-coloured splendid composition, with 
heads worthy of Raphael : this was painted in his twenty- 
fifth year. To his excellence as an artist Filippino 
united irreproachable morals and the most courteous 
and amiable manner, so that he was adored by his fellow- 
citizens, and when he died in 1505 he was carried to the 
grave with public honours, all the shops being closed 
along the way. 

But to return to Masaccio. In considering his works, 
their superiority over all that painting had till then 
achieved or attempted is such, and so surprising, that 
there socms a kind of break in the progression of the art 
— as if Masaccio had overleaped suddenly the limits which 
his predecessors had foimd impassable ; but Ghiberti and 
his Gates explain the seeming wonder. The chief ex- 
cellences of Masaccio wore those which he had attained, 
or at least conceived, in his early studies in modelling. 
Ho had learned from Ghiberti not merely the knowledge 
of form, but the eflfects of light and shade in giving relief 
and roundness to his figures, which, in comparison to 
those of his predecessors, seemed to start from the canvas. 
He was the first who successfully foreshortened the 
extremities. In most of the older pictures the figures 
appeared to stand on the points of their toes— the fore- 
shortening of the foot, though often attempted with more 
or less success, seemed to present insurmountable diffi- 
culties. Masaccio added a precision in the drawing of 


Ilie naked figure, cuid a soflnegE and harmony in colouring 
ibe fle^h, never attained before his time, nor since sur- 
passed till the days of Raphael and Titian. He excelled 
also in tbe expression and imitation of natnr&l actions 
ftnd feelings. Jn the iresco of St. Peter baptizing the 
Converta Uiere ia a youth who has just thrown off his 
garment, and stands in the altitude of ono shivering willi 
snddtn cold. " This figui-o," says Lanzi, " formed an 
epoch in art." Add the animation and variety of cha- 
racter in bis heads— so tliat it was said of him that he 
painted sotUs as well as bodies — and his free-flowing 
draperies, quite different from the longitudinal folds of 
the Giotto school, yet grand and simple ; and we can 
form some idea of tbe combinatioQ of exceUence wilb 
novelty of stylo which astonished his contemporarieB. 
The Chapel of tbe Biancacci was for half a centniy what 
the Camere of Raphael in the Vatican have since become 
— a school for yonng artists. Vasari eutuuerates by 
name twenty painters who were accnstomed to study 
there ; among tiiem, Lionardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, 
Andrea del 3arto, Fra Bartolomeo, Femgino, Baccio 
Bandinelll, and tbe divine Raphael himself. Nothing 
1ms than first-rate genius ever yet inspired genins ; and 
the Chapel of the Brancacci has been rendered as sacred 
and memorable by its association with such spirits, as it 
ii preciona and wondions as a monument of art. 

" In this chapel wrought 
One of the Few, Nature's interpreters; 
The Few, whom Qeniua girea u light* to shine — 
Uasaccio ; and hs Blumbeti underneath, 
Wtiuldst thou behold hie monument ! Look round, 
And know that where we itand, atood oli and long, 

( 88 ) 


Born 1424, died about 1485. 

Fra Giovanni Angelico possossed, among his other 
amiable qualities, one true characteristic of a generous 
mind, the willingness to impart whatever he knew to 
others; and notwithstanding the retirement in which 
he lived, he had several pupils : but that which formed 
the principal charm and merit of his productions, the 
impress of individual mind, the profound sentiment of 
piety, was incommunicable except to a kindred spirit 
Hence it is that his influence, like the Prophetic mantle, 
fell on those who had the power to catch it and retain 
it, and is more apparent in its general results, as seen in 
the schools of Umbria and Venice, than in any particular 
painter or any particular work. Cosimo Roselli, a dis- 
tinguished artist of that time, is supposed to have studied 
under Angelico, and certainly began by imitating his 
manner : afterwards he painted like Masaccio, and then 
fell into a capricious manner, which strikes us as at 
once hard and fantastic. There is a picture by him in 
our National Gallery (an altarpiece dedicated to St. 
Jerome), and of great interest, though marked by his 
characteristic faults. A much more celebrated name is 


Art (J BiiKozzo QozzoLi, who was twra at FVnnM 
ik«t 1424. 4 

We know Terj little of the lib of tkia enmadHaMJ^' 
md; bnt that little Ghows him tu h«Te bM«« 

itie pdrticolar love of his numtcr, wbaa I 
ud L-omptUkion he was. awl, dnriag iW I 

Ilecozzo waa an excellent i 
ChmtiaD, bat he had no » 
{itlnter of the tinio had raeh « ]ml|r aav ^ ^ A* 
lieaiity and variety of th? externa) aad mt^mki imaM, 
For him beauty (.'xisit-d yeheif^'-r i«e Ixi^ — ■■L-^itt.-ut 
bo moved. ITi- t.".k ^!:■il i-:..:!- :- -• :-i.-.- ■•' :■.- 
irt, that he had little time fur o&ier pwMWtte ik «■!>- 
ceeded to the popnlari^ of Angduoo ate s jMbUiter <f 
■cied sabjects, into iriiicli he iitmiteudd xanob Bore 
omunent, decorating then with landMwpec, btuldiogs, 
mimals, Ac It ^>pean Hiat he did liUt injiagB tiw 
^nre more ooirecdy than Ai^eJJoo, &or equal him is 
thepnrfbimd Ceeling and oektitnl wr (rf'lueliBftde; bat 
lie has afaawn mon hiTCBlioB asd varie^ in bie oon^o- 
■itiona, aiKl milled vith his gmoe a certain gaiety of 
omoepdoa, a degree of MOFCBMstand dnmalic feeling, 
iddchaiv not aeeai in flie voaks </ Asgeiieo. 

BenoaxD, bc&re t^dealh (/Lie master, painted eoaae 
fraaeoea in Ae eaiihedxtd at Orrieto, and in tlie t^nrchee 
of the link town <£ Mont^loo new Foligno. and ako 
■t Bcaae in tbe c i w r ch <£ the Ais-oelL like fonn^ 
tamak, bat tfaoae in &e Aza-oedi baxe loug ainoe been 
JJl fteae were nore or leea in tiie atyle ti 
A&^ &e deafli <£ Ai^elioo, Baiuno was 


employed to paint the church of San Geminiano, a little 
city on the road from Florence to Sienna. Here he 
painted the Death of St. Sebastian, and the histoiy of 
St. Augustin ; and here some of his own peculiar cha- 
racteristics were first displayed. For Pietro de' Medid 
he painted a chapel in the palace of the Medici (now the 
Palazzo Ricardi at Florence), the subject being the 
Adoration of the Magi : over the altar was the Nativity 
of our Lord (now removed) ; angels scattering flowers, 
singing and rejoicing, approach on each side ; while 
round the walls is still seen the journey of the Wise 
Kings from the land of the East, and their return to 
their own country, in a procession of figures on foot and 
on horseback, represented with the utmost elegance and 
animation. In all the paintings he executed at this time 
(1 4G0) and afterwards, Benozzo introduced many figures, 
generally the portraits of distinguished inhabitants of 
the place, or those of his friends, grouped as spectators 
round the principal incident or personage represented, 
having nothing to do with the action, but so beautifully 
managed, that, far from appearing intrusive, they rather 
add to the solemnity and the poetry of the scene, as if 
he would fain represent these sacred events as belonging 
to all times, and still, as it were, passing before oureyea. 
This observation must be borne in mind as generally 
applicable to all sacred pictures, in which the apparent 
anachronisms are not really such if properly considered. 
Benozzo carried this and other characteristics of his own 
original style still further in his greatest work, the deco- 
ration of the Campo Santo. 

When the troubles of war, famine, plague, and in- 

bi*n7 of dw OU TanKoaaE iraa. liam_ unm. -|r 

<if thefigvRK, a^wa gyil «■ ghgit—ii - *&» ■Drntt an- 
poiea, &e pi;;' li 

■ad uiaLliMiM wiik wfto^ bt Jiw ^s^bthc -&t oiHnimt 
rf thkt Uij — i^ida' dnr wd& if Ssm^' aw xf -fis 
■Mt exbwMdiaaiT- M^H^mB itf -Sh^ iiliBHiilL Domiirr. 
Bnt it vmid has* k^ anim: -^ike -csaunrfiiiiET- ii 
vnold hKTe Iw^ ■■■iiJwn IbS 3I ^moii -^euniBic si 'ds 
■[Moe of tw jrtfliK, *s ttiwi nJlBK*- — smcmf "D' h 

92 BENOZZO GOZZOLI. [Born 1424. 

have shown to be incredible. It appears from anthentio 
records still existing in the city of Pisa that Benozzo 
was engaged on this great work not less than sixteen 
years, from 1468 to 1484.* 

Of the original frescoes, three out of the twenty-four 
are entirely destroyed ; the others have peeled off in some 
parts, but in others have been coarsely restored ; in many 
figures the expression of the features and the lucid bar* 
mony of the colours have remained. Each compartment 
contains several incidents and events artlessly grouped 
together. Thus we have Hagar*s presumption, her casti- 
gation by Sarah, the Visit of the three Angels, &c., in one 
picture. Among the most beautiful subjects may be 
mentioned the Vineyard of Noah, the first which Ben- 
ozzo painted, as a trial of his skill. On the left of this 
composition are two female figures — one who comes 
tripping along with a basket of grapes on her head, the 
other holding up her basket for more — which are models 
of pastoral grace and simplicity. In the Building of the 
Tower of Babel a crowd of spectators have assembled 
to witness the work ; among them are introduced the 
figures of Cosmo de' Medici, the Father of his coimtry, 
and his two grandsons Lorenzo and Giuliano, with Foli- 
ziano and other personages, all in the costume of that 
time. In the Marriage Feast of Jacob and Hachel he 
has introduced the two graceful dancing figures which 
are given in the woodcut. In the Recognition of Joseph 

* Those who would form an idea of its immensity, considered as 
the work of one hand, may consult the large set of engravings from 
the Gampo Santo, published by Lasinio in 1821. 

n.aacAin ri.^^ < 


lie has painted a profiisign of ricli areLitectural decora- 
tion — palaces, colonnades, balctmies, and poiticoeB — in 
the style of tLe time ; and in the disfance we Lave, in- 
stead of the Egyptian Pyramids, a view of the Cathedi^l 
of Pisa ! 

Soon after the completion of the last compartment, 
the Queen of Sheba's visit to Solomon (of which nn- 
happily scarce a fragment remains), BonozKo GozacU 
died at Pisa, in his aeventj-- eighth year. The grateful 
and admiring Piaans, among whom he had resided for 
disteen years in great honour and esteem, had presented 
him in the conree of his work with a vault or sepnlchre 
JDBt beneath the compartment which contains the history 
of Joseph, and in this spot he lies buried, with an in- 
scription intimating that his best monnment consists in 
the works around. Benozzo left an only daughter, who 
after his death inherited the modest little dwelling which 
he had purchased for himself on the Carraia di San 

Beuozzo's principal works, being in fresco, remain 
attached to the walls on which they were painted. Those 
only of the Campo Santo are engraved. In our National 
Gallery we have a splendid and valuable specimen of 
this master, and one of undisputed authenticity. It was 
painted for the charitable association called the " Oom- 
pagnia di San Marco," at Florence, and represents the 
nsoal subject of the Madonna and Child enthroned, 
attended hy the patrons of Florence and other saints. 
There is another, a small picture, representing Paris 
and his companions carrying oS Helen and her attend- 



[BoRir 1424. 

ants, which probably ornamented a marriage cassone or 
bridal casket.* A picture in distemper of St Thomas 
Aquinas is in the Lonvre (72), and is the same men- 
tioned by Yasari as having been painted for the Cathe- 
dral of Pisa-t 

* When I first saw this beautiful and curious little picture in the 
Lombardi collection it was ignorantly styled ** The Brides of Venioe," 
and attributed to Oentile da Fabriano ! 

t This picture is most curious as an historical document, and aa 
instance of the manner in which art was employed to illustrate the 
characters, opinions, and controversiee of the time. See, in the 
* Legends of the ilomstio Onkn,' the Life of Thomas Aquinas. 



( 85 





^^ Bong 

tl40S. D 

lED 1477 ^H 

^^ LUCA 


i IMO. D 

lED 1&21. ^^^^^^1 

Towards tbe close of the fifteentli century we find 
Lorenzo de' M^edici, tht Moffnificent, master of the Floren- 
iiiie republic, as it was Btill denominated, thoagh now 
under the almost absolute power of one man. The 
mystic and spiritnal school of Angellco and his followers 
no longer fonnd admirers in the city of Florence, where 
the stady of classical literature, and the enthusiastio 
admiration of the Medici for antique art, led to the cul- 
tivation and development of a style wholly different ; 
tbe painters, instead of confining themselves to Scrip- 
tural events and characters, began at this time to take 
their subjects &om mythology and classical history ; 
meantime the progress made in the knowledge of form, 
the use of colours, and aU the technical appliances of 
&e art, prepared the way for the appearance of those 
great masters who in tbe succeeding century carried 
painting in all its departments to the highest perfection, 
■nd baTe never yet been surpassed. 


About 1460 a certam Neapolitan painter, named 
Antoxkllo da Messina, having travelled into the 
Netherlands, learned there from Johan v. Eyk and his 
scholars the art of managing oil-colonrs : being at 
Venice, on his return, he communicated the secret to a 
Venetian painter, Domenico Veneziano, with whom he 
had formed a friendship, and who, having acquirMl con* 
siderable reputation, was called to Florence to assist 
Andrea di Castaono in painting a chapel in Santa Maria 
Novella. Andrea, who had been a scholar of Masaodo, 
was one of the most j&imous painters of the time, and a 
favourite of the Medici family : on the occasion of the 
conspiracy of the Pazzi, when the Archbishop of Pisa 
and his confederates were hung by the magistrates from 
the windows of the palace, Andrea was called upon to 
represent, on the walls of the Podestk, this terrible exe- 
cution — ** fit subject for fit hand " — and he succeeded so 
well, that he obtained the surname of Andrea degV Im- 
piccati, which may be translated Andrea the Hangman; 
he afterwards earned a yet more infamous designation — 
Andrea the Assassin. Envious of the reputation whidi 
Domenico had acquired by the beauty and brilliance of 
his colours, he first by a show of the most devoted 
friendship obtained his secret, and then seized the op- 
portunity when he accompanied Domenico one night to 
serenade his mistress, and stabbed him to the heart. He 
contrived to escape suspicion, and allowed one or two in- 
nocent persons to suffer for his crime ; but on his death- 
bed, ten years afterwanls, he confessed his guilt, and has 
been consigned to merited infamy. Very few works of 
this painter remain : they are much praised by Lansi, 


9 1*—] 

li tofrtnA 

rftbe MBCMrtiiM if ili^wil lad fcnaw cooDMCed «ilk 
Aa (ianet^ of &e ■■■. Omt dt tarn jtctaxat. m igax* 
of tlM 3ticd«leM » ^ 6^» Axti, at Pknam (No. 37), 

vKkewiaetkM in^ BHfiKltnsme (1055 uid 1139), 
ftmck Bkoas tntenoe^ iHi^nN»1Jii — kari. alnnt erval, 
in dpncter. Hr noMt W have [wi fei TBd ptniteBtial 
■ahJBeta. mA aa St. Ja 
witliaabMie, w Mmj HapUlnnn linking a 
dcnMiriiif . It ■■ abo raaaAaUe ihmt noDo cf lua re- 
wmiTvg pictmvs ST9 painted in oil-<x>loiirs, t>ut all »!« 
in distemper, as if be had feared to avail himaplf of the 
Mcret acquired by mch flagitioos means, and thj know- 
ledge of ^diich, tboo^ not the practioe, became geueral 
bdbre bisdeattb. 

In die year 1471 Sixtna TV. became popo. Though 
I7 no means endned with a taste for art, he resolved to 
emnlate the Medici &mily, whoee example and patron- 
ige hod diffoeed the feshion, if not the feeling, through* 
oat all Italy ; and having built that beantiful chapel in 
the Vatican called by his name, and since celebrated as 
the Sistine Chapel, the next thing was to decorate It witli 
appropriate paintings. On one side of it was to be 
repreaented the history of Uoaes ; on the other, the his- 
tory of Christ : the old law and the new law, the Hebrew 
and the Christian dispensation, thus placed in contrast 
and illnstrating each other. As there were no diatin- 
gnished painters at that time in Rome, Sixtus invited 
from Florence those of the Tuscan artists who had the 
greatest reputation in their native ooantry. 

The first of these was Sahdbo (t. «. Alessandro) FiLi- 

98 LUCA SIGNORELLI. [Born 1440. 

PEPi, called Botticelli, remarkable for being one of the 
earliest painters who treated mythological subjects on a 
small scale as decorations for fdmiture, and the first who 
made drawings for the purpose of being engraved : these, 
as well as his religions pictures, he treated in a feinciful, 
allegorical style. Six of his pictures are in the Museum 
at Berlin— one an undraped Venus ; and two are in the 
Louvre. Sandro was a pupil of the monk Fra Filippo 
already mentioned, and after his death took charge of 
his young son Filippino Lippi, who excelled both his 
father and his preceptor, and became one of the greatest 
painters of his time.* In the south corridor of the Flo- 
rence CJjiUery hangs a picture by Sandro Botticelli of 
surpassing beauty. It represents the Virgin with the 
infant Saviour on her knee, whom she supports with 
one hand, while with the other she is in the act of writ- 
ing her famous and beautiful hymn (* My soul doth mag- 
nify the Lord !') on the leaf of a book held by an angeL 
The angel behind her throne is the portrait of Lorenzo 
de' Medici when a boy.t Another exquisite picture 
in the first room of the Tuscan School represents the 
** Calumny of AikjUcs." 

Another painter employed by Pope Sixtus was Luca 
SiGNOKKLLi of Cortoua, the first who not only drew the 
human furm with admirable correctness, but, aided by a 
degree of anatomical knowledge rare in those days, threw 
such spirit and expression into the various attitudes of 

* He completed the frescoes in the cliapel of the Carmine at 
Florence, left unfiniBhed by Masaccio, as already related. 

t There is a poor duplicate or copy of this picture in the Louvre, 
No. 195 ; nor is our specimen in the National Qallcry first rate. 


I From Ihc Chapel In Ibe Du 

b %itT««, titat his gmi 
OiilMdnl of Orrieto, 
were EJodied and ertn n 

oniniial and illastrum 

rnnirn ■ 1m i 


liVX * 

iireproaduble life aad uniaUe a 
itelpfdl to those who needed hie asaettnoe : to liie bo- 
meroQs scholan kind and commmucaliTe. ac became a 
great and generons artifit. His prinopal wiovb are the 
grand moral frescoes at Orrieto, in the Setia^ Qopel 
■t Borne, and in the conrent of Monte llireto, near 
Sienna. His moveable pictures and aharpJeoes are cf 
great value. 'Whatever sobject be treated, vlietber i«- 
ligions or rlawiipnl. he treated with dedskm, with power 
and grandetir in the grouping and foimB, and with Bin- 
golar depth and originality in the heads. He was 
famoOB in hie Ufetiine, enriched by constant employ- 
ment, and is recorded as having been several times 
elected as dde£ magistrate of his native dtj of Cortona, 
then free and prospennu. The year of Signorelli's death 
is not exactly known, bnt he certainly lived to be np- 
waids ctf eighty, lliis painter was apparently a bvoar- 
ite of Foseli, whose oconpoeitiona frequently remind ns 
Ot the long lirabe and animated, but sometimes exa^^ 
tated, action of Signorelli. We bare, as yet, no picture 
by him in our K^onal Gallery. 

( 100 ) 


Born U51, died 1495. 

DoMENico DAL Ghirlandajo was also employed in the 
Sistino Chapel, but he was then young, and, of his two 
pictures there, one only remains, the Calling of St, 
Peter and St. Andrew ; — so inferior to his later produc- 
tions, that we do not recognise here the hand of him 
who became afterwards one of the greatest and most 
memorable painters of liis time. 

Domenico Corradi, or Bigordi, was bom at Florence 
in 1451, and was educated by his father for his own 
profession, that of a goldsmith. In this art he acquired 
great skill, and displayed in his designs uncommon 
elegance of fancy. He was the first who invented the 
silver ornaments in the form of a wreath or garland 
{Ghirlanda) which became a fivjhion with the Florentine 
women, and from which he obtained the name of Ghir- 
landajo, or GrillandajOy as it is sometimes written. At 
the ago of four-and-twenty he quitted the profession of 
goldsmith, and became a painter. While employed in 
his father's workshop he had amused himself with 
taking \h& likenesses of all the persons he saw, so rapidly, 
and with so much liveliness and truth, as to astonish 
every one : the exact drawing and modelling of forms. 

14M.3 OHIBURDiJO. lOl 

die iBTGotiTe bttay fl^oroiaed in his mechanical azt, and 
the torn for poitnilifre/'are displayed in all hie mlMe- 
qnemt productions. Ti^eii^wQn so many in nmnbar, so 
various in subject, and bo "^bbihible, ibat only a few of 
them can be noticed here. AAftr ns4«tnnied&om^tcnne 
his fint work was ihe painting (ff-ft.^utpel of tiie Tes- 
piuxn fiuoily, in the Gtrarch of Ognwsdijn (All Sainta), 
in iriiicdi he introdnoed, in 1485, the portrai^'vf Amcoigo 
Te«p«coio the navigator, who afterwards gSf^'^jtaina 
to a new world. '**'.•''■•* 

Ohbhmd^o painted a diapel for a certain Flor^itifLi} -^ 
citizen, Francesco Sassetti, in the church of the Trini&*'r' 
Here he representfld the whole life of Francesco's patron 
saint, St. Francis, in a series of pictures full of feeling 
and dramatic power. As he was confined to the popular 
histories and traditions, which had been treated ^ain 
and again by successive painters, and in which it was 
necessary to conform to certain fixed and prescribed 
rules, it was difficult to introduce any variety in the 
conception. Yet he has done this simply by the mere 
force of expression. The most excellent of these frcBcoes 
is the Death of St. Francis, surrounded by the monks of 
his order, in which the aged beads, full of grief, awe, 
resignation, are depicted with wonderful skill : at the 
foot of the bier is an old bishop chanting the litaniee, 
with spectacles on his nose, which is the earliest known 
representation of those implements, then recently in- 
vented. On one side of the picture is the kneeling 
figure of Francesco Sassetti, and on the other Madonna 
Keia, his wife. All these histories of St. Francis are 
ei^praved in Lasiuio's ' Early Florentine Masters,' as are 

102 GHIRLANDAJO. [B0B5 1451. 

also the magnificent frescoes in the- choir of Santa Maria 
Novella, his greatest work. 3lii8-<he nndertook for a 
generous and public-spirited oitizen of Florence, Gio- 
vanni Tomabuoni, who agf!^' to repair the choir at his 
own cost, and, moreover, to pay Ghirlandajo one thousand 
two himdred golo.Mticats for painting the walls in fr'eseo, 
and to add two hundred more if he wore well satisfied 
with the performance. 

Ghiflicdajo devoted four years to his task. He painted 
on.tW right-hand wall the history of St. John the Bap- 
"tifiij'and, on the left, various incidents from the life of 
-the Virgin. One of the most beautiful represents the 
Birth of the Virgin : female attendants, charming grace- 
ful figures, are aiding the mother or intent on the new- 
bom child ; while a lady, in the elegant costume of the 
Florentine ladies of that time, and holding a handker- 
chief in her hand, is seen advancing, as if to pay her 
visit of congratulation. This is the portrait of Ginevra 
de' Bcnci, one of the loveliest women of the time. He 
has introduced her again as one of the attendants in 
the Visit of the Virgin to St Elizabeth. In the other 
pictures ho has introduced tlie figures of Lorenzo de' 
Medici, Poliziano, Demetrio Greco, Marsilio Ficino, and 
other celebrated persons (of whom there are notices in 
Eoscoe's * Life of Lorenzo de' Medici '), besides his own 
portrait and those of many other persons of that time. 

The idea of crowding these sacred and mystical sub- 
jects with portraits of real persons and representations 
of familiar objects may seem, on first view, shocking 
to the taste, ridiculous anachronisms, and destructive of 
all solemnity and unity of feeling. Such^ however, is 


^^^^^1 ^ '^'^^ ^^^^^^1 

f^'^S^^ ''""(m ^^^^^I 


m 1 

Mi- ''i 

1 \ ■ 



"if- ^'il'^K' 1 



Bot die UW6, bnt the reverse. la the first place, the 

Hcml and ideal p6rsuDagi»i are never portr&its from 

Mlure, and are veiy loftily conceived in point of ex- 

pn^siun and significance. In the oecond p1a(?c, the real 

penonages introduced are seldom or never actors ; they 

are merely attendants and spectators in events wliich 

Diii^T be conceived to belong to all time, and to have no 

MpMiial locality; and they have so much dignity in 

tfceir aspecta, the costumes are so picturesque, and the 

pmiping is so fine and imaginative, that only the cold3st 

and most pedantic critic could wish them absent. 

Wbea. tjhulattdftjo had tintahed ^lia gnod aenea of 
pictures, his patron, Giovanni Tomabuoni, declared 
himself well pleased; but, at the same time, expressed 
a wish that Ghirlandajo would be content with the snm 
first stipulated, and forego the additional two handred 
docats. The high-minded painter, who esteemed glory 
and hononr much more than riches, immediately with- 
drew his claim, saying that he cared far more to have 
satisfied his employer than for any amount of payment. 
Beeidea hia frescoes, Ohirlandajo painted many pic- 
tures in oil and in distemper. There is one of great 
beaaty in the LouTre' — the Visitation — that is, the visit 
which Hary, the mother of otir Lord, paid to her cooain 
Elizabeth. In this pictnre £lizabeth kneels as to a 
snperior ; the two attendant women are Mary Cleophas 
and Moiy Salome. Bnt the subject he most frequently 
repeated was the Adoration of the Magi ; perhaps be- 
cause it gave him the opportunity of introdncii^ bril- 
liant accessories, as crowns, vases, embroidered garments, 
• So. 20* 

104 GHIRLANDAJO. [BoRsr 1451. 

and jewelled ornaments, in which, as well as in the 
higher departments of painting, he excelled. His dra- 
peries are elegant, but sometimes raJUher fluttering and 
fantastic. In our National Gallery is a beautiful spe- 
cimen of this master, only lately acquired, and marked 
by all his characteristics ; but the finest picture by him 
I have ever seen is the altarpiece in the chapel of the 
Innocenti (the Foundling Hospital) at Florence. 

It may be said, on the whole, that the attention of 
Ohirlandajo was directed less to the delineation of form 
than to the expression of his heads and the imitation of 
life and nature as exhibited in feature and countenance. 
He also carried the mechanical and technical part of his 
art to a perfection it had not before attained. He was 
the best colourist in fresco who had yet appeared, and 
his colours have stood extremely well to this day.* 

Another characteristic which renders Ghirlandajo 
very interesting as an artist was his diligent and pro- 
gressive improvement ; every successive production was 
better than the last. He was also an excellent worker 
in mosaic, which, from its durability, he used to call 
' ' painting for eternity.^ ' 

To his rare and various accomplishments as an artist, 
Ghirlandajo added the most amiable qualities as a man 
— qualities which obtained him the love as well as 
the admiration of his fellow-citizens. He was, says 
Vasari, ** the delight of the age in which he lived.*' He 
was still in the prime of life and in the full possession 

• Except where the whole surface has been destroyed by damp or 
accident, as in several of the frescoes in the choir of S. Maria 

Died 1495.] AXDrXA VEEBOCCKIO. 105 

oi conscious power — bo that he was heard > wiali tlney 
would give him the walla all roanil the city to cover 
with frescoes — when he was seized wiih fiadden illous, 
and died, at the age of f-"*-- *^jiir, to the infinite grief cf 
his numerous scholars, oy wnom he was intened. willi 
cverj- demonstration of mournful respect, in the church 
ef Santa Maria Xovella, in the year 1495. His two 
bivlbera, Davide and Benedetto, were also pwaters, and 
ueisted htm in the execution of fais grvat works ; and 
his sou BiTiOLFO Gbiklaniixjo became afterwards an 
eiwllcnt artist, but he belongs to n later period. 

Ghirlandajo formed many scholars ; among them was 
the great Michael Angelo. 

Contemporary with Ghirlandajo lived an artist, me- 
morable for having aided with his instmctioos both 
Michael Angela and Lionardo da Vinci. This was 
A^'DKBA Yerbocchio (b. 1432, d. 1488), who was a 
goldsmith and sculptor in marble and bronze, and also 
a painter, though in painting his works are few and little 
known. He drew and modelled admirably, but hiM 
style of painting is rather hard and formal. He is cele- 
brated through the celebrity of the artists formed in his 
school ; and is said to have been the first who took casts 
in plaster from life as aids in the Btndy of form. 

( 100 ) 


Born adout 1430, died 1498. 

Among tbo assistants of Ghiberti one more must be par- 
ticularly commemorated. Antonio del Pollaiuolo, like 
many other great Florentine artists, began his profiBSsional 
career as a goldsmith and a modeller and carver in wood 
and metal. To be the sons of a poulterer {Pollaiuoloy whence 
they derive their name) does not seem to promise much 
in regard to art ; but the father of Antonio and Piero 
was soon aware of the talent of his sons, and foimd 
means to place the eldest under the tuition of Bertuccio, 
the father-in-law of Lorenzo Ghiberti. Antonio at once 
distinguished himself by his aptitude and his skill in 
modelling and designing, and Ghiberti selected him as 
one of his assistants in the second Bronze Gate of the 
Baptistery. On the rich border of foliage and figures 
on the left hand, and about four feet from the ground, is 
seen the quail modelled by Antonio, of which Vasari 
says, " it wants nothing of life but the power to fly." 

After executing many beautiful works in metal, and 
particularly part of the elaborate silver altar {Dossale) 
for the same church of St. John the Baptist, Antonio 
applied himself to painting, in which, however excellent 
in some things, he retained a certain hardness and for- 
mality of design derived from his first profession. 

The altarpiece which he painted for Antonio Pucci in 

Ifi5 is now in our National Gallery. It ■■ s known 
ud celebrated picture, and one of our moat TaloaUe 
■cquisitioiiB, but not attracfive conaiderel «a a rel^ 
pow work. Tbe young Boman soldier who died Sse hifl 
&ith ia here a commonplace aiuL contorted figure ; Ute 
bead hae none of that fervent aspiration and loveiriiioll 
we are accustomed to look for in St. SebaHtian. It ic, 
IB &ct, a portrait, and that of a celebrated ntem, Qrao 
CapponL The tivo soldiers in &ont bonding their croflt* 
koss are the auat admij^d Sgaiea in this picture ; ^ 
tufihwwlri ddD dSm^aij^A In 19ie fbrediortehing and in 
ft» «xpnmiaA H tttong bodil; elfort Was wm at tihat 
time, and was a kind of merit which the learned and 
the unlearned would equally understand. Antonio 
Puoei, in paying for it the stiptdated 300 orowns, ex- 
presaed his satisfiiction, and was heard to declare that 
the money only paid the coat of the colours — it would 
not recompense the skill of the artist. Pollaiuolo was 
soon afterwards called to Borne, employed there by 
SixtuB rV„ Innocent VIII., and Alexander VI., and 
executed the famous and elaborate, but not quite satisr 
factory, monument of Sixtus IV. in the Vatican. Pol- 
laiuolo, as an artist, had that leaning to pagan and clas- 
eical taste which was the fashion of the time ; he was a 
capital designer, but deficient in sentiment and grace. 
As a man, he was esteemed for his exemplary life no 
less than for his talents, and died at Rome in 1498, rich 
and prosperous, leaving a dowry of 5000 gold crowns to 
each of his two daughters. He and his brother Fiero 
were buried in the same tomb, in S. Peter-in-VincuIa, 
at Rome. 

( 108 ) 


Born 1431, died 1506. 

For a while we must leave beautiful Florence and her 
painters, who were striving after perfection by imitating 
what they saw in nature — the common appearances of 
he objects, animate and inanimate, around them — and 
turn to another part of Italy, where there arose a man 
of genius who pursued a wholly diflferent course ; at least 
he started from a different point ; and who exercised for 
a time a great influence on all the painters of Italy, 
including those of Florence. This was Andrea Man- 
TtxjxA, particularly interesting to English readers, as his 
most celebrated work, tlie Triumph of Julius Caesar, is 
now preserved in the palace of Hampton Court, and has 
formed part of the royal collection ever since the days of 
Charles I. 

Andrea Mantegna was the son of very poor and 
obscure parents, and was bom near Padua in 1431. All 
we learn of his early childhood amounts to this — that he 
was employed in keeping sheep ; and being conducted 
to the city, entered, we know not by what chance, the 
school of Francesco Squarcione. 

About the middle of the 15th century, from which 
time we date the revival of letters in Europe, the study 



(pf tlie Greek langnage, and a taste for the works of tbe 
cal authors, luuJ becumo more and more diffused 
lirough Italy. ^Ve are told that " to write Latin cor^ 
Ml],y. touudersland the allusions itf the best antliors. to 
leuTt at least the rudiments of Greek, were tbi> objecta 
id" every cultivated mind." Claesical literature was par- 
ticulatly studied at the Universitj- of I'odua. Squar- 
d'/ae, a native of that city, and by profession a painter, 
Kas early emitten with this passion for the antique. He 
not only travelled over all Italy, but visited Greece in 
warch of the remains of ancient art. Of ih'^e which 
lie cotild not pnrchase or remove, he obtained casta or 
copies ; and, returning to Padua, be opened there a 
school or academy for painters, not indeed the most 
celebrated nor the most influential, bat at that time the 
best attended in all Italy. Squarcione numbered one 
hundred and thir^-seven pupils, and was considered the 
best teacher of his time ; yet of all this crowd of etn- 
dents the names of thi«e only are preserved, and of 
these only one has attained lasting celebrity. By Squar- 
cione himself we hear only of one undoubted picture 
displaying great talent ; but it appears that he painted 
little, enLployed his scholars to execute what works were 
confided to him, and gave himself up to the business of 

Andrea Mantegna was only known in the academy of 
Squarcione as a poor boy, whose talent and docility 
rendered him a favotirite with his master, and at length 
his adopted son. He worked early and late, copying 
with assiduity the models which were set before him, 
drawing &om the fragments of statuea, the busts, the 

110 MAKTEGNA. [BoBir 1431. 

bas-reliefs, ornaments, and vases with which Sqnarcione 
had enriched his academy. At the age of seventeen 
Andrea painted his first great picture for the chnrch of 
Santa Sofia in Padua (now lost), and at the age of nine- 
teen assisted in painting the chapel of St. Christopher 
in the Eremitani — ^here he represented on the vault the 
four evangelists ; his imagination and his pencil fami- 
liarized only with the forms of classical art, he gave to 
these sacred personages the air and attitude of heathen 
philosophers, but they excited nevertheless great ap- 

At this time the Venetian Jacopo Bellini, father of 
the two great Bellini, of whom we sliall have to speak 
presently, arrived in Padua, where ho was employed to 
paint some pictures. He was considered as the rival of 
Sqnarcione, both as a painter and teacher. Andrea was 
captivated by the talents and conversation of the Vene- 
tian ; and yet more attracted by the charms of his 
daughter Nicolosia, whose hand he asked and obtained 
from her father. Jacopo Bellini was of opinion that he 
who had given such early proofs of assiduity and ability 
must ultimately succeed ; and though Andrea was still 
poor and but little known, and the Bellini family already 
rich and celebrated, he did not hesitate to bestow his 
daughter on the youthful and modest suitor. This mar- 
riage, and what he regarded as the revolt of his favourite 
disciple, so enraged Squarcione that he never forgave 
the offence. Andrea having soon after completed a 
picture which excelled his first, his old master attacked 
it with the most merciless severity, and publicly de- 
nounced its faults : the figures, he said, were stiff, were 

Ito !».>«.] SCHOOL OK PAhlU. 

colli — without life, without nftture ; and he observed sar- 
castically that AndiBik should have painted tJiem white, 
lite marble, and then the colour w<.>ald have harmonised 
with the drawing. This criticism camo mth a par- 
tieularij- ill grace fmm him who had taught tho veTy 
principles bo now condemned, and Andrea folt it bitterly, 
II TbB Italian annotalor of Vasari remarks very truly, that 
ytmiiiii I praise often turns ihe brain of tho weak n 
iMi imiwi lb* niK tjt ganhu dotUkI mA ouelMa; 
t»t Aift Mm m v ttd ujart oenmre, lAS«' it omabas 
mM ot mlif , tabi m a t/par aad exoitemfliit to real gsnins. 
Andrea showed that he had sufficient strength of mind 
to rise superior to both praise and censure ; be felt with 
Aiafput and pain Qte malignity <^ bis old master ; but he 
knew that much of bis criticism was just. Instead of 
Bbowing any sense of injury or disconragement, be set 
to work with &e«h ardour ; he drew and studied from 
natnre, instead of confining himself to the antique ; he 
imitated the fresher and livelier colouring of his new 
relations, the Bellini ; and his next picture, which 
repreaented a legend of St. Christopher, was so superior 
to the laat, Ibat it silenced the open cavilling of Squar- 
(none, though it could not extinguish bis animosity, 
perfa^M rather added to it; for Andrea bad introduced 
among the nnmeronfl figures in his &esco that of Sqnar- 
eione himaelf, and the likeness was by no means a flatter- 
ing one. Notwithstanding the admiration which these 
and other woi^ excited in his native city, the enmity of 
bis old master seems to have rendered Padua intolerable 
as a reeidence. Andioa therefore went to Terona, where 
be executed several frescoes and some smaller pictures ; 

112 MANTCGNA. [;BoitNl431. 

and being invited to Mantua by Ludovico Gonzaga, he 
finally entered the service of that prince. The native 
courtesy of Andrea's manners, as well as his acquired 
knowledge and his ability in his profession, recom- 
mended him to his new patron, who loaded him with 
honours and favoun. 

Some years after he had taken up his residence in 
Mantua, and had executed for the Marquis Ludovico, 
and his son and successor Frederigo, several woricB 
which yet remain, Andrea was invited to Home by Pope 
Innocent VIII., to paint for him a chapel in the Bel- 
vedere. ITio Marquis of Mantua permitted him to 
depart but for a time only ; the permission was accom- 
panied by gifts and by letters of recommendation to the 
pontiff ; and the more to show tlio esteem in which the 
painter waa held, he bestowed on him the honour of 

Mantegna, on his arrival in Home, set himself to work 
with his characteristic diligence and enthusiasm, and 
covered the walls and the coiling with a multiplicity of 
subjects, executed, says Vasari, with the delicacy of 
miniatures. These beautiful paintings existed till late 
in the last century, when Pius VI. destroj-ed the chapel 
to make room for his new museum. • "While Andrea was 
employed at Home by Pope Innocent, a pleasant and 
characteristic incident occurred, which does honour both 
to him and to the pope. His holiness was at this time 
much occupied and disturbed by state affairs ; and it 

* " Contrary to the advice of those who entreated him to abtttiii 
from such barbarity ** (tanta b'trbarie). The " New Museum ** ia now 
the famous Braccio Nuovo of the Vatican. 

f- • 


kfipened that the payments were not made with the 
F^pdarity which Andx«a deeired. The pope somethnes 
ndted the artist at his work, and one day he asked him 
die meaning of a certain female figure on which he was 
piinting. Andrea replied, with a significant look, that 
be was txying to represent DiacreHon, The pope, nnder- 
itanding him at once» replied, ** If yon would place 
Dkcntion in fitting company, yon shonld place Patience 
ither side.** Andrea took the hint, and said no more; 
ind when his work was completed, the pope not only 
paid him the snms stipulated, bnt rewarded him muni- 
ficently besides. About the year 1487 ho returned to 
Mantua, where he built himself a magnificent house, 
painted inside and outside by his own hand, and in 
which he resided in great esteem and honour until his 
death in 1506. Tie was buried in the church of his 
patron saint, St. Andrew, where his monument in bronze 
and seYeral of his pictures may yet be seen. 

The existing works of Andrea Mantcgna are so 
numerous that I shall record here only the most remark- 
able, and the occasions on which they were painted. 

In the year 1488 Andrea executed for the Marquis 
Gian-Francesco (grandson of his first friend Ludovico 
Gonzaga) the famous frieze representing in nine com- 
partments the Triumph of Julius Ceesar after his conquest 
of GauL* These were placed round the upper part of 
a hall in the palace of San Sebastiano, at Mantua, which 

* The dates are taken from the Chronolo^cal Supplement to the 
* Life of Mautegna* in the Lemonnier edition of Yasari, vol. v., 1849; 
from which it appears that Mantegna began this frieze in the begin- 
ning of the year 1488, before he went to Home, and finished it, 
after his return, in 1492. 

114 MANTEGNA. [Born 1431. 

Francesco had lately erected. They hung in this palace 
for a century and a half. When Mantua was sacked and 
pillaged in 1629, they, with many other pictures, escaped; 
the Duke Carlo Gonzaga, reduced to poverty by the vices 
and prodigality of his predecessors, and the wars and 
calamities of his own time, sold his gallery of pictures to 
our King Charles I. for 20,000/., and these and other 
works of Andrea Mantegna came to England with the 
rest of the Mantuan collection. When King Charles's 
pictures were sold by the Parliament after his death, the 
Triumph of Julius Csesar was purchased for 1000/., but 
on the return of Charles II. it was restored to the royal 
collection, how or by whom does not appear. The nine 
pictures now hang in tho palace of Hampton Court 
They are painted in distemper on twilled linen, which 
has been stretched on frames, and originally placed 
against the wall with ornamented pilasters dividing the 
compartments. In their present faded and dilapidated 
condition, hurried and uninformed visitors will probably 
pass them over with a cursory glance ; yet, if we except 
the Cartoons of Raphael, Hampton Court contains no- 
thing so curious and valuable as this old frieze of Andrea 
Mantegna, which, notwithstanding the fi*agility of the 
material on which it is executed, has now existed for 
three hundred and eighty years, and, having been fre- 
quently engraved, is celebrated all over Europe. 

Andrea retained through his whole life that taste for 
the forms and effects of sculpture which had given to 
all his earlier works a certain hardness, meagreness, and 
formality of outline, neither agreeable in itself nor in 
harmony with pictorial illusion ; but in the Triumph of 

uuon'B riioM tue ihiim 

hotfkue.] TBJOMPH OF Ci^SAR. H5; 

Juliiui Cicssr the combinatioD or a sculptural Et^lc witH 
[lie aims and boaatifa of painting was not, as we nwially 
Siii it, misplaced and unpleaBing; it waa fitted to the 
I Mirpo&e and exoootod with wonderful euccesa; 
1 rable figures move one after another in S 
^I'leudid procsEsion, aa iu an ancient haH-reliefj, 
lit I- 1 1 Hired lighlly, in a style reevnilding the untiqnA^ 
patntings at Pompeii. Originally it appsars that thft 
DIM cmupartmenta were wparated friiw each olher by 
Kolptared pilaateiv. Im the first piotnre, or couipart- 
tndtt, we have the opening of the procession ; trumpeta, 
bc«ns0 buruing. ataodards borne aloft by the yictorion* 
loldieia. In the second pictnrc wo have tlie etatues 
ihib godn uuried oS from the tenijiles of the enemy; 
htttetiug-rams, implements of war, heaps of glittering 
uriDOur carried on men's ehouldors, or borne aloft in 
cbariutK. In the third pictnro, more splenilid trophies 
uf a nmilw kind ; huge va^es filled with gold coin, 
Iripoda, Ac. In the fLiurtb, more such trophJes. with tl»j 
nxca cruwnud wiih garlands for the sacrifice. In the' 
fifth pictnro arc four elephants adorned with rickj 
gtduaAB of fmita and flowere, boaring ou their backaj 
n^pufioe&t candelabra, and attended by beautiful youiha,' 
In Uie sirth are figures bearing vases, and othere di»-' 
{lUying iho arms of the vanquished. The seventh 
picture shows UB the ntUmppy captives, who, aocording 
to (ho bnrbarous Honiun custom, were exhibited on LhesA, 
ooeaaions to the scoffing and exulting populace : there ii 
here a group of female coptives of all ages, among tlieoi, 
a yooi^ dejected bride-like figure, a wvman carrying 
her iofiuit children, and a mother leading by tho hand 


116 MANTEGNA. [BORN 1431. 

her little boy, who lifts up his foot as if he had hurt it; 
this group is particularly pointed out bj Yasari, who 
praises it for its nature and its grace. In the eighth 
picture we have a group of singers and musicians, and 
among them is seen a youth whose unworthy office it 
was to mock at the wretched captives, in which he is 
assisted by a chorus of the common people ; a beautifiil 
youth with a tambourine is distinguished by singular 
spirit and grace. In the last picture appears the con- 
queror, Julius Caesar, in a sumptuous chariot riohlj 
adorned with sculptures in the antique style. He is 
surrounded and followed by a crowd of figures, and 
among them is seen a youth bearing aloft a standard, on 
which is inscribed Cassar's niemorablo words, IVwt, Mdi^ 
Vici — ** I came, I saw, I conquered." 

The inconceivable richness of fancy displayed in this 
triumplial procession, the numbers of figures and objects 
of every kind, the propriety of the antique costumes, 
ornaments, armour, &c., with the scientific manner in 
which the perspective is managed, the whole being 
adapted to its intended situation far above the eye, so 
that the under surfaces of the objects are alone visible 
(as would be the case when viewed from below), the 
upper surfaces vanishing into air ; all these merits com- 
bined renders this series of pictures one of the grandest 
works of the fifteenth century, worthy of the attention 
and admiration of all beholders. 

When the great Flemish painter, Rubens, was at 
Mantua in 1606, he was struck with astonishment on 
viewing these works, and made a fine copy in a reduced 
form of the fifth compartment : copi/j however, it cannot 

150«.] XANTEGNA. 117 

jKOpuAjhb oaHed; it la nUier a wrnbii in the maaner 
of Babens, the style of the whole, and even some of the 
eneamstanoes. being altered. Tlus fine piotme is now 
a our National Galleiy.* 

Another of the' most celebrated of Mantegpfia's works 
ii flie great piotme now in the Louvre, at Paris, and 
oaDed l^ the. Italians *'1a Mackmna dOa Vittona,*' the 
Madonna of Victory. Th^ occasion on which it was 
fainted lecallB a great event in history, the invasion of 
Baly l^ Charles YIII. of France. Of all the wars 
mdeitaken by ambitions and unprincipled monarchs, 
whether instigated by revenge, by policy, or by rapa- 
dons thirst of dominion, this invasion of Italy, in 1495, 
was the most flagitious in its injustice, its folly, and its 
oraelty ; it was also the most retributive in its results. 
Charles, after ravaging the whole countr}' from the'Alps 
to Calabria, found himself obliged to retreat, and on the 
banks of the Taro was met by Gian-Francesco, Marquis 
of Mantua, the son and successor of Frederigo, at the 
head of an army. On the part of the Italians it was 

^ Rubens made this copy for his own pleasure, and would never 
pot with it : it was among the effects left at his death. There can 
be no doubt that the sojourn of Rubens at Mantua, previous to his 
fint to England in 1630, led to the acquisition of the Mantuan 
Qallery by Charles I., which was effected by the advice and agency 
of Rubens. After the death of Rubens, this copy was acquired by 
the Balbi family; and subsequently it was purchased by Mr. Rogers, 
and hung for many years in his drawing-room over the chimney- 
inece. For all these reasons, the acquisition of this beautiful and 
memorable picture by our National Qallery is a matter of con- 

In the British Museum there is a fine set of the woodcuts in 
chiaro-scurOy executed by Andrea Andreani about 1 599, when the 
original frieze still kept its place in the palace at Mantua. 

118 MANTEGNA. [BoRW 1431. 

rather a victoiy missed than a yictoiy won ; for the 
French continued their retreat across the Alps, and the 
loss of the Italians was immense. The Marquis of 
Mantua, however, chose to consider it as a victory : he 
built a church on the occasion, and commanded Andrea 
Mantegna to paint a pictare for the high altar, which 
should express at once his devotion and his gratitnde. 
Considering the subject and the occasion, the French 
must have had a particular and malicious pleasure in 
placing this picture in the Louvre, where it now hangs. 
It represents in the centre, under a canopy or arbour 
composed of garlands of foliage and fruit, and seated on 
a throne, the Virgin Mary, who holds on her knees the 
infant Saviour. On her right stand the archangel 
Michael and St. Maurice in complete armour. On the 
left ifre the patron saints of Mantua, St. Longinus and 
St. Andrew, with the infant St. John ; more in front, on 
each side, are the Marquis of Mantua and his wife, the 
celebrated and accomplished Isabella d'Este, who, kneel- 
ing, return thanks for the so-called victory over the 
French. The figure of the Marchesa Isabella is still, in 
the French catalogue of the Louvre, styled St. Elizabeth, 
an error pointed out long since by Lanzi and others. 
This picture was finished in the year 1500, when Andrea 
was seventy; in beauty and softness of execution it 
exceeds all his other works, while in the poetical con- 
ception of the whole, the grandeur of the saints, and the 
expression in the countenance of Gonzaga as he gazes 
upwards in a transport of devotion, it is worthy of his 
best years. In the Louvre are three other pictures by 
Andrea Mantegna. One is the Crucifixion of our Savi- 

U06.] MASTWaSk. Iig 

oar, a anaU piotoze ranarluUs £dt oontBining his own 
pntnit in {he fignxe cf fh« soldier seen half-length in 
ftont, Anodur, «n allegorioal snl^jeot, rapreMnts the 
TioM fljrii^ hofijn Wisdom, Chaadt^, and Philoaqpl^, 
vlule Jmtioa, Fortitiide, uid Tempetaooe retam bam 
•bova, onoe more to talce np their habitAticpn snumg 
MM. Another piotnie, of ezoeeding bean^, Tepreeenta 
fla Hsne damning to the aoimd of Apollo's lyre : Mara, 
Tcaoa, and Cupid stand on a n>oky height, looking upon 
AoB, iriule ToloMi is seen at a distance tbreatenisg his 
faiOikes consort. In thin little picture Mant^na Beema 
inqnred by the very spirit of Greek ait : the Muses are 
deseed with exquidte taste and feeling ; it is probably 
&ie chef-d'oouTTO of the artist in his own particular 
■tfle, that for which his natural turn oCmind and early 
■todies under Squarcione had fitted him. In general 
Ms leligiona pictures are not pleasing ; and many of hia 
cUasical subjects have a meagrenera in tho forms which 
is quite opposed to all our conceptions of beauty and 
peatnesB of style ; but he hoe done grand things. We 
■re 80 fortonate as to possess in our National Gallery a 
genuine and celebrated picture by Andrea Manfegna, 
the Virgin and Child enthroned — the Divine Child 
standing on her knee, and blessing, while Mary Mag- 
dalene and St. John the Baptist stand on each side ; the 
background ia formed of orange-trees. The colouring 
is rather pale, and the expression of the Madonna rather 
weak, faults not usnal with Andrea ; in other respects — 
in the fine drawing, the character of the two uainfs, and 
the jxm and drapery of the Virgin — it is as fine as pes- 
nble. Besides the works already mentioned, there are 

120 HANTEGNA. [BOBH 1431. 

four pictures in the Museum at Berlin, and others at 
Vienna, Florence, and Naples. 

Of many disciples formed by Andrea Mant^na not 
one attained to any fame or influence in his art ; they 
all exaggerated his manner and defects, as is usual widi 
scholars who follow the manner of their master. His 
two sons were both artists, studious and respectaUe 
men, but neither of them inherited the genitus of their 
father. Ariosto, in a famous stanza of his great poem 
(Orlando Furioso, c. xxxiii., st. 2), in which he has coat' 
memorated all the leading painters of his own time, 
places the name of Andrea Mantegna between those of 
Lionardo da Vinci and Gian Bellini : — 

" E quel che furo a noatri di, o son ora, 
Loouardo, Andrea Mantegna, Gian Bellino, 
Duo Dossi, e quel, che a par sculpe, e colors 
Michel piu che mortal Angel divmo ; 
Bastiano, Raffael, Titian ch' honora 
Non men Cador, che quel Venezia e Urbino ; 
E gli altri di cui tal opra si vede 
Qual della prisca oik si legge, e crede/ 



liO ! Leonardo ! Gian' Bellino view, 
Two Dossi, and Mantegna reached by few ; 
With these an angel, Michael, styled divine. 
In whom the sculptor and the painter join : 
Sebastian, Titian, Raphael, three that grace 
Cadora, Venice, and Urbino's race: 
Each genius that can past events recall 
In living figures on the storied wall." 



: Ikvention of E!H^u.TDra om Wood asd 
Coppeb: 1423—1462. 

t Haxtbg^a was not oafy emfaunt m * pklnter ; 
Aaooli of hU cdefaritysndluBUifliienoeoTCrtiie 
m lliat Rgo to the m«ltiplM»tl(m and diffiaian of 
his dedgnjB hy oopper-jikte engnviii^ ui ut naknown 
till bis time : he -waa uM <f tlw filtt lAo pCMtiaed it ; 
eertunly tha first painter who engnved fail ovn 

In th<?6o days, when we oumot wallc throngli the 
streets even of a thii-d-rate town without paseing shops 
filled with ongravings and prints, when not our books 
only bat the newspapen that lie on our tables are illns- 
tnted ; when the ' Penny Magazine ' can place a little 
print after Mantegna at onoe before the eyes of fifty 
thousand readers ;* when every beautiful work of art 
u it appears is multiplied and diffased by hundreds and 
thonsands of copies; when the talk is rife of wondrous 
inventions by which such copies shall reproduce them- 
telvee to infinitude, without change or deterioration,t 
we find it diffio^t to throw onr imagination back to a 
time when snoh things were not. 

What printing did for litei&ture, engraving on wood 
ud copper has done for painting — not only difiueed the 
designs and inventions of artists, which would otherwise 
be confined to one locality, but in many oases preserved 
those which would otherwise have perished altogether. 

122 INVENTION OF ENGRAVING. [1423-1452. 

It is interestiiig to remember that three inventionB to 
which we owe such infinite instruction and delight were 
almost simultaneous. The earliest known impression 
of an engraving on wood is dated 1423 ; the earliest 
impression from an engraved metal plate was made about 
1452; and the first printed book, properly so oaUed, 
bears date, according to the best authoritieB, 1455. 

Stamps for impressing signatures and characteia on 
paper, in which the required forms were cut upon blocks 
of wood, we find in use in the earliest times. Seals far 
convents and societies, in which the distinctive devices 
or letters were cut hollow upon wood or metal, were 
known in the fourteenth century. The transition seems 
easy to the next application of the art; and thenoe 
perhaps it has happened that the name of the man who 
made this step is lout. All that is certainly known is, 
that the first wood-blocks for the purpose of pictorial 
representations were cut in Germany, in the province 
of Suabia ; that the first use made of the art was for the 
multiplication of playing-cards, which about the year 
1418 or 1420 were manufactured in great quantities at 
Augsburg, Nuremberg, and Venice ; and that the next 
application of the art was devotional ; it was used to 
multiply rude figures of saints, which were distribnted 
among the common people. The earliest woodout known 
is a coarse figure of St. Christopher, dated 1423. This 
curiosity exists in the library of Earl Spencer, atAl- 
tliorpe.* Another impression, which is declared by 
connoisseurs to bo a little later, is in the Eoyal Library 

* A reduced imitation of this earliest known woodcut is annexed. 



It Full, where it is fismed wid hniig op for tbe inspeo- 
tknofHieciirioiu. Biid6,ill-di»wii,gTote(iqiie — sprinted 
with aonie farowniah fluid <m the coaiaest fll-ooloiiied 
piper— still it is imposBible to look at it without some 
of the coriosilj, interest, and reverence with which we 
ngud the firat printed hook, though it must be allowed 
flut, in oomparison with this first sorry speoimen of a 
woodcat, the first book was a beautifiil peifonnanoe. 

Up to a late period the origin of engraving on copper 
was involved in a like obsomity, and volnmes of oon- 
tiofeny have been written on the subject — some claim- 
ing the invention for Germany, others for Italy : at 
length, however, the indefatigable researches of anti- 
quarians and connoisseurs, aided by the accidental dis- 
coveiy, in 1794, of the first impression from a metal 
plate, have set the matter at rest. If to Germany belongs 
the invention of engraving on wood, the art of copper- 
plate engraving was beyond all doubt first introduced 
and practised at Florence ; yet here again the invention 
seems to have arisen out of a combination of accidental 
circumstances rather than to belong of right to ouo man. 
The circumstances, as well as we can trace them, were 
these: — 

The goldsmiths of Italy, and particularly of Florence, 
were famous, in the fifteenth century, for working in 
Xullo. They traced with a sharp point or graver on 
metal plates, generally of silver, all kinds of designs, 
sometimes only arabesques, sometimes single figures, 
sometimes elaborate and complicated designs from sacred 
and profane history. The lines thus cut or scratched 
were filled up with a black mass of sulphate of silver, so 

G 2 

124 INVENTION OF ENORAVINr,. [1423-I4S:2. 

that the design traced appeared very distinct contrasted 
with the white metal : in Italy the substance used i n 
filling up the lines was called, from its black colour, in 
Latin nigeUum^ and in Italian niello. In this manner 
church plate, as chalices and reliquaries ; also dagger- 
sheaths, sword-hilts, clasps, buttons, and many other 
small silver articles, were ornamented : those who prac- 
tised the art were called nieUatoru 

According to Vasari's account, Maso Finiguerra was 
a skilful goldsmith, living in Florence ; he became cele- 
brated for the artistic beauty of his designs and work- 
manship in niello. Finiguerra is said to be the first to 
whom it accidentally occurred to try the effect of his 
work, and preserve a memorandum of his design, in the 
following manner : — Previous to filling up the engraved 
lines with the nielb, which was a final process, he applied 
to them a black fluid easily removed, and tben, laying 
a piece of damp paper on the plate or object, and press- 
ing or rubbing it forcibly, the paper imbibed the fluid 
from the tracing, and presented a facnsimile of the design, 
which had the appearance of being drawn with a pen. 
That Finiguerra was the first or the only worker in nieUo 
who used this method of trj-ing the effect of the work 
is more than doubtful ; but it is certain that the earliest 
known impression of a niello plate is the impression 
from a pax* now existing in the Gallery of Bronzes 
at Florence, executed by Finiguerra, and representing 
the subject we have often alluded to — the Coronation of 

* A pax or pix is the name given to the vessel in which the con- 
secrated bread or wafer of the sacrament was deposited. This vessel 
was usually of the richest workmanship, often enriched with gems. 



the Virgin by her Son the Itedeemer, in presence of 
flatnli Hid *^yi« ; it oonteins hmtIv tliiztT mimto 
flgnrac mtat exqniaitely derigned. This relic is pre- 
•errad id tbe Boyal Libmy ai Paxia, where it ma dis- 
oOTend lying among aome old Italian engnviDgB hy 
tike AbM Zeal :Fhe date of the work is fixed byroad 
■n disrate ; fbr the teoord of the pftjinent of oixty- 
u gold dnotta (82L gterling) to Uaeo Finignem for 
^M identical pax still «xiata, dated I4&2. The only 
flodetiiig impttnekni from it nnut have been made pre- 
▼ionaly, perh^ia a few weeks or months before. It is 
now, like the first woodcut, framed and himg up in the 
Boyal Library at Paris for tho inspection of the curious : 
a reduced copy is given in the annexed illuBtration. 

Another method of trying the effect of niello-work 
before it was quite completed was by taking the impres- 
sion of the design, not on paper, but on sulphur, of 
which some curious and valuable Bpecimons remain. 
After seeing several impressions of niello plates of the 
fifteenth century, we are no longer surprised to find 
skUftil goldsmiths converted into excellent painters and 

We have no evidence that it occurred to Maso 
Finiguemi, or any other niello-worker, to engrave 
designs on plates of copper for the express purpose of 
making and multiplying impressions of them on paper. 
The first who did this as a trade or profession was 

• In our own tima thii wt, »fter hiving been forgottan mncs the 
•iztaenth century, when it fell into dieiiae, hu been very (uccow- 
fulljr reriTod by Mr. Wegner, a goldimith of Berlin, now imiding 

126 If ANTEGNA. [Born 1431. 

Baccio Baldini, who, about 1467, employed aeTeral 
painters, particularly Sandro Botticelli and Filippino 
Lippi, to make designs for him to engrave. Andrea 
Mantegna caught up the idea with a kind of enthusiasm : 
he made the first experiment when about sixty, and, 
according to Lanzi, he engraved, during the sixteen 
remaining years of his life, not less than fifty plates : of 
these about thirty are now known to oolleclors, and 
considered genuine. Among them are his own designs 
for the Triumph of Julius Caesar (the fifth, sixth, and 
seventh compartments only). 

Familiar as we now are with all kinds of copperplate 
and wood-engraving, there are persons who do not 
understand clearly the difference between them. Inde- 
pendent of the difference of the material on which they 
are executed, the grand distinction between the two arts 
is this — that the copperplate engraver cuts out the 
lines by which the impression is produced, which are 
thus left hollow, and afterwards filled up with ink ; the 
impression is produced by laying a piece of wet paper 
on the plate and passing them together under a heavy 
and perfectly even roller. The method of the engraver 
on wood is precisely the reverse. He cuts away all the 
surrounding surface of the block of wood, and leaves the 
lines which are to produce the impression prominent; 
they are afterwards blackened with ink like a stamp, 
and the impression taken with a common printing* 

When Andrea Mantegna made his first essays in 
engraving on copper he does not seem to have used a 
press or roller ; perhaps he was unacquainted with that 

» IMW,] 



implement. At &U events tbe earlj i 

pUtea Lavo evidenlly been tefcen ly d 

paper on the copper-plale and t&eo i^ing it vw 

with the hand ; and thej- are very bi>t aol ifMlHi 

compared n-ilh the later impresDous taba wift a 


( 128 ) 




A.D. 1421 TO A.D. 1516. 

Jacopo Bellini, the father, had studied painting under 
Gentile da Fabriano, of whom we have spoken as the 
scholar, or at least the imitator, of the famous monk 
Angelico da Fiesole. To express his gratitude and 
veneration for his instructor, Jacopo gave the name of 
Gentile to his eldest son : the second and most famous 
of the two was christened Giovanni (John) ; in the 
Venetian dialect Gian Bellini, 

The sister of the Bellini being married to Andrea 
Mantegna, who exercised for forty years a sort of patri- 
archal authority over all the painters of northern Italy, 
it is singular that he should have had so little influence 
over his Venetian relatives. It is true the elder brother, 
Gentile, had always a certain leaning to Mantegna's 
school, and was fond of studying from a mutilated 
antique Venus which he kept in his studio. But the 
genius of his brother Gian Bellini was formed altogether 

1421-1516.] THE YiyARIKI AND THE BELUNL 129 

by othor inflnemoeB. The oonuneroial intercourse be* 
tween Venice and Gennanj bron^t severd pictnree 
and painters of Geimanj and the Netherlands into 
Yenioe. In the island of Mnrano, at Venice, dwelt a 
tynily called the Vivarini, who had carried on the art 
of painting from generation to generation, and who had 
anociated with them some of the early Flemings : thus 
it was that the painters of the first Venetian school 
became familiarised with a style of colonring more rich 
and Tiyid than was piaotised in any other part of Italy : 
ihey were among the first who substitated oil-painting 
for distemper. To these advantages the elder Bellini 
added the knowledge of drawing and perspective taught 
in the Paduan school, and the religious and spiritual 
feeling which they derived from the example and in- 
struction of Gentile da Fabriano. In these combined 
elements Gian Bellini was educated, and founded the 
Venetian school, afterwards so famous and so prolific in 
great artists. 

The two brothers were first employed together in an 
immense work, which may be compared in its im- 
portance and its object to the decoration of our houses 
of parliament. They were commanded to paint the 
Hall of Council in the palace of the Doge with a series 
of pictures representing the principal events (partly 
legendary and fictitious, partly authentic) of the Vene- 
tian wars with the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa (1177); 
the combats and victories on the Adriatic, the reconcilia- 
tion of the Emperor with Pope Alexander III. in the 
Place of St. Mark, when Frederic held the stirrup of 
the pope*s mule; the Doge Ziani receiving from the pope 

Q 3 

130 THE BELLINI. [1421-1516. 

the gold ring with, which he espoused the Adriatic in 
token of perpetual dominion over it ; and other memo- 
rable scenes dear to the pride and patriotism of the 

These were painted in fourteen compartments round 
the hall. What remains to us of the works of the two 
brothers renders it a subject of lasting regret that these 
frescoes, and others still more valuable, were destroyed 
by fire in 1677. 

In 1453 Constantinople was taken by the Turks, an 
event which threw the whole of Christendom into con- 
sternation, not unmixed with shame. The Venetians 
were the first to resume their commercial relations with 
the Levant ; they sent an embassy to the Turkish Sultan 
to treat for the redemption of the Christian prisoners 
and negotiate a peace. This was happily concluded in 
1454, under the auspices of the Doge, old Francesco 
Foscari.* It was on this occasion that the Sultan 
Mohammed II., having seen some Venetian pictures, 
desired that the Venetian government would send him 
one of their painters. The Council of Ten, after some 
deliberation, selected for this service Gentile Bellini, 
who took his departure accordingly in one of the state 
galleys, and on arriving at Constantinople was received 
with great honour. During his residence tbere he 
painted the portrait of the Sultan and one of his favourite 
sultanas ; and he took an opportunity of presenting to 
the Sultan, as a token of homage from himself, a picture 

♦ The story of the two Foscari is the subject of a tragedy by 
Lord Byron. The taking of Constantinople is the subject of one of 
the most beautiful tragedies of Joanna Baillie. 


l4:i-13H.] WORKS OF GE>TItC BELLISl. lit 

nf the hand of Jobn the Baptist after d»»pit»ticn. Th* 
Sultao admired it much, but criticised, witb dte air o(% 
cocQciseeur, tho appoaTatic« of tbe neck: t 
(ktthosliriiikmgof the severed nerreawwB 
eipreesed. Aa Gentile BeQiiii did not *pfe»r to Seel 
iha full force of this criticism, the Saltan called io anm 
of bis slaves, commanded the vcretch to kneel dc>«m, and. 
drairiiig his sabre, cat off his be^id vrith a ctioke, and 
ihos gave the astonished and terrified painter a prao- 
tiol lesson in anatomy. It maj be eaeiljr heliered that 
after this horrible scene Gentile became imeaey till he 
hid obtained leave of departnre, and ibe Sultan at kagtli 
diiffliissed him, wilh a k'tter of sircTg recommet^datkn 
U iut own govenuuant, a chain of gold, isnd odicr lick 
pieeents. After his retnm to Venice he painted khdb 
remarkable pictures ; among them one repreaectiiig St. 
Hark preaching at Alexandria, in which be has painted 
tbe men and women of Alexandria in rich Tnrkish eos- 
tmnee, sncb as he had seen at Constantinople. This 
curions pictore is now in the Brera at Milan, and is 
engraved in Bosini's ' Storia della Pittora.' A portrait 
of Mohammed n., painted b; Gentile Bellini, is said to 
le in England. All the early engraving of the grim 
Turkish conqneror which now exist are bam the poF> 
traits painted by Bellini. Be died in 1501. at the age 
of eighty. 

A much more memorable artist in all respects was his 
brother Gian Bcujni. Hii) woiks are divided into two 
clasaea — those which he painted before he adopted the 
prtMseaa of oU-paintiug, and (hose execnted afterwards: 
The first hare great sweetness and el^ance aiid purity 

132 THE BELLINI. [1421-1516. 

of expression, with, however, a certain timidity and 
dryness of manner ; in the latter we have a foretaste of 
the rich Venetian colouring, without any diminution of 
the grave simple dignity and melancholy sweetness of 
expression which distinguished his earlier works. Be- 
tween his sixty-fifth and his eightieth year he painted 
those pictures which are considered as his ohefs-d^oeuvre, 
and which are now preserved in the churches at Venice 
and in the Gallery of the Academy of Arts in that city. 

It has heen said that Oian Bellini introduced himself 
disguised into the room of Antonello da Messina when 
he was painting at Venice, and stole from him the newly 
discovered secret of mixing the colours with oils instead 
of water. It is a consolation to think that this story 
does not rest on any evidence worthy of credit. Anto- 
nello had divulged his secret to several of his friends, 
particularly to Domenico Veneziano, afterwards mur- 
dered by Andrea Castagno. Besides, the character oi 
Bellini renders it unlikely that he would have been 
guilty of such a perfidious trick. 

Gian Bellini is said to have introduced at Venice the 
fashion of portrait-painting ; before his time the like- 
nesses of living persons had been frequently painted 
but they were almost always introduced into pictures oi 
large subjects : portraits properly so called were scarcelj 
known till his time ; then, and afterwards, every noble 
Venetian sat for his picture, generally the head only 
or half-length. Their houses were filled with famQ]; 
portraits, and it became a custom to have the effigies oi 
their doges and those who distinguished themselves in 
the service of their country painted by order of the 





Elate iind hung in the ducal palaca, where many of them 
in Btill to be seen. Up to the latest period of hie life 
GiiB Bellini had been employed in painting for his . 
eoDnt(3'mcn only religious pictures, or portraits, or J 
nibjects of Venetian histoty ; the daiisical taste which 
kid ipread through all the states of Italy had not yet 
{CUttated to Venice : but towards the end of hie life, 
■ ito nearly ninety, he was inrited to Ferrara to paint 
atbe palace of the duke a Dance of Dacchanals- On 
.ftiiDDoaaiou he made the acquaintance of Ariosto, who 
antioDi him with honour among the paialdra of laa 

There is at the palace of Hampton Court a very 
nirious little head of Bellini, certainly genuine, though 
mucli injured : it is inscribed underneath, Jahaues Bellini 
jw. W« have in oar National Gallery a moKt curious 
and genuine portrait of one of the old dogee painted by 
Bellini, It is somewhat hard in the execution, but we 
cumot look at it without feeling that we could swear to 
the truth of the resemblance. In the Lonvre at Paris 
4re three pictures ascribed to Giau Bellini : one contains 
his own portrait and that of his brother Gentile, heads 
only; the former is dark, the latter fair; both wear a 
Und of cap or ient. Another, about six feet in length, 
represents the reception of a Venetian ambassador at 
Constantinople. A third is a Virgin and Child. The 
first-mentioned is by Gentile, and the two last uncertain. 
In the Berlin Museum are seven pictures by him, all 
considered genuine, and all are painted on panel and 
iKoSt; they belong therefore to his latest and best 



Gian BoUini died in 1516. He had formed many 
disciples, and among them two whose glory in theae 
later times has almost eclipsed that of their great teacher 
and precursor— G I oRQiosE and Titian. Another, lees 
famous, bnt of whom some beautifnl pictures still exist 
at Venice, was Cima da Comegliano. 





Bon 1446, DUD 1534 ; 


For a long period the fame of Penigino, at least in this 
connby, rested more on his having heen the master and 
inBtmctor of Baphael than od his own works or worth, 
bat he is now better appreciated. He was a great 
and remarlcable painter, popular in his own diiy and 
interesting in ours as the representative of a school of 
art immediately preceding that of Baphael. He was 
what the Italians call a " Capo-scuolo," and one of the 
most celebrated of all. 

The territoty of Umbria in Italy comprises tliat 
mountainous region of the Ecolesiastical States now 
called the Duchy of Spoleto. Urbino, Perugia, Foligno, 
Asaisi, and Spoleto were among its principal towns ; add 
the whole country, with ita retired valleys and isolated 
cities, was distinguished in the middle ages as the 
pecoliar seat of religions enthusiasm. It was here that 

136 PERUGINO. [Born 1446. 

St. Francis of Assisi preached and prayed, and gathered 
around him his fervid self-denying votaries. Art, as 
usual, reflected the habits and feelings of the people, 
cmd here Gentile da Fabriano, the beloved friend of 
Angelico da Fiesole, exercised a particular influenoe. 
No less than thirteen or fourteen Umbrian painters, 
who flourished between the time of Gentile and that of 
JRaphael, are mentioned in Passavant's ' Life of EaphaeL' 
This mystical and spiritual direction of art extended 
itself to Bologna, and found a worthy interpreter in 
Francesco Francia. We shall, however, speak first of 

Pietro Vannucci was bom at a little town in Umbria, 
called Cittii della Pieve, and he was known for the first 
thirty years of his life as Pietro della Pieve ; after he 
had settled at Perugia, and had obtained there the rights 
of citizenship, he was called Pietro di Perugia, or II 
Perugino, by wliich name ho is best known. 

Wo know little of the early life and education of 
Perugino ; his parents were respectable, but poor. His 
first instructor is supposed to have been Niccolo Alunno. 
At this time (about 1470) Florence was considered as the 
head-quarters of art and artists ; and the young painter, 
at the age of five-and-twenty, undertook a journey to 
Florence as the most certain path to excellence and 

Vasari, who is very unjust to Pietro in some respects, 
tells us that he was excited to industry by being con- 
stantly told of the great rewards and honours which the 
professors of painting had earned in ancient and in 
modem times, and also by the pressure of poverty, but 

Iter 1534.] Ills EARLT LIFE. 137 

there can be no duubt that bo ad(l(!<l to genius and 
industry a more genuine eenijnient of truth and beauty, 
a more real delight in his art, and a Dobler ambition than 
Vasari gives him credit for, at least in his younger 
years. He left Perugia in a state of absolute want, and 
reached Florence, where he pursued his studies for 
many months with unwearied diligence, but so poor 
meanwhile that he had not aven a bed to sleep on. Ho 
studied in the Brancacci chapel in the Carmine, which 
has been already mentioned ; received Bome instruction 
id dmwing and Biodelling from Andrea Verrooohio ; Kod 
was a friend and fellow-pnpil of Liouardo da Vinoi. 
They are thus mentioned together in a contemporary 
poem written by Giovanni Sauti, the father of the great 
Raphael : — 

" Due gioTiD par A' etats e par d' amori, 

Lionardo d« Vind B "1 PeruaiQO 

Pier della Pieve, che bod divia plttori.'' 
" Two yuuthB, equal in jearB, equal in affection, 

Lionardo da Viuci aud the Perugian 

Peter della Pieve, both divine painters." 

When young in his art a pure and gentle feeling 
guided his pencil ; and in the desire to leam, in the 
fixed determination to improve and to excel, his calm 
sense and his calculating spirit stood him in good stead. 
There was a famona convent near Florence," in which 
the monks — not lazy nor ignorant, as monks are usually 

* Tb* coDTent of the Geiaati or Jemali, nbo must not be con- 
founded with the Javiti — the Jeeuita. Thia noble convent, witli 
moat of iU fine paintiogB, irai deitrojed when Clement VII, 
bMi«gad Florence in 1536. 

118 PERLOISO. [TilRS 1446. 

described ^carried on eoveral arta eucceisHfully, par- 
ticularly the art of puinting on glass. Ponigino was 
omploj-ed to paint some fresooGB in their convent, nnd 
also to nmko deKigns for tho glass-painters : in return, 
lio learned Low to prepare and to apply many colonrs 
not yet in general nee ; and tho lucid and vigorous tints 
to wliich his eye became accustomed in their workshop 
certainly influenced his style of colouring. He gradttatly 
rose in efitimation ; painted a vast number of pictures 
and ficscoen for the churches and chapels of Florence, 
and particularly an altarpicce of great beauty for the 
famous convent of V'allombrosa. In this he represented 
tlic Assumption of tho Virgin, who is soaring to heaven 
in the midst of a choir of angels, whilo the tutelary saints 
of the convent, St. Bernard Cardinal o, St. John Gualberto, 
St. 15eiie<lii:t, and the Archangel Michael, standing below, 
upwards ivith adoration and aHtonishment. This 

Died 1521.] 


St. Peter, AVbileat Rome he Hlao painted a room in the 
palwe wf rrinue Culonna, W ben be returned to Perugia 
he resiimetl tbo feeling and miiuiier of hia earlier years, 
oombini-d with betler ilmwing ami colouring, find his 
t pieturoB were painted between HBO and 1502 ; Itis 
ii.-ipiil work, however, was the hall of the CoUe^io del ' 
o (i. e. Hall of Excluinge) at I'emgia, most richly 
and elfthorately paiut«d with frescoes, which still esist. 
Tbe persouagGB introduced exhibit a strange mixture 
oC the Bocred and profane : John the Baptist, and other 
uints, Ibaiah, Moees, Daniel, David, and other prophets, 
are Ggurcd on tbo walls with Fabius Moximue, Socrates, 
1, Pericles, Horatiiis Cocles, and other Greek 
1 Soman worthies. Other religious pictures painted 
R Ferugia are remarkable for the simplicity, grace, and 
uty of the Virgin, the infantine sweotuesa of the i 
children and cherubs, and the earnest, ardent expression 
in the heads of his eaints. 

[ i'erugina, in the very beginning of tbo eisteenth ceii 
f, WBscertainly the most popular painter of his time; ft 
o which, considering that Ifaphael, Francia, 
1 Lionardo da Vinci were all working at the sttiue I 
, would surpi-ise us did we not know that con- 
Bpontty pnpiJarity is not generally the recompense of j 
tlio luost distiiiguishud geuius. \\b tuust romember that i 
in 1 505, when Kaphael was a youth, Perugino was nearly 
sixty, and had in his long life painted many picturea ! 
in many different oJlies of Italy, having been cmplojcd 
at Kome. FU>renco, Sienna, Orvieto, Fano, as well as his 
own country of Perugia and ite noighbourliood, which 

b.doubt extended his 

e and popular ity. Ho hud also 


opened a school or academy, 'whi 
for the number of admirable p 1 
After 150S hia powers declined, 
popnlaritj renuiiued. He uiidertoo J 
of workx, and employed hia scho I 
' exccnte them from his deeigna. 
perhaps the seeds were m 
and misery, took posBCssion of I I 
longer excited to labour by a s 
geuerous ambition to excel, but I 
for gain : all his kte pictures, fro* 
death, betray the influence of Ihi^ 
aimed at nothing beyond niet'li* 
to earn his money with as littl^ 
trouble aa possible ; ho became } 
mannered, and monotonous, 
same figures, actions, and heads, 1 
wore wearied ; and on his last v 
Augelo, who had i 
him, with contempt, " Goffo t 
bungler ; for which affrout Pietro K 
the mtigistratef, but c 
'was no longer what he had been. 
money, or such his mistrust of hi> 
moving from place to place he earn | 
5 on one ocean- [ 
sum, he fell ill, and was like to die 
however, hardly connislent with the i 
spirit imputed to him, that, hATing i ' 
girl of Pemgia, he took great deli 
arrayed, at home and abroad, in tb' 

opened a nciiool or academy, which became celebrated 
f«r the number of admirable painters it produced. 
Aftor 1505 hia powers declined, thoiigh his fame and 
populiirity remained. Tie undertook an immense number 
of works, and employed his scholars and assiHlante to 
oxecuta thorn from liis designs. A passion, of which 
perhaps the seeds were sown in hia early days of poverty 
and misery, took possession of his soul. He weta no 
longer excited to labour by a spirit of piety or the 
generi>u3 ambition to oscol, but by an insatiable thirst 
for gain : all his late pictures, from the year 1505 to his 
death, betray the influence of this mean possioii. He 
aimed at nothing beyond mechanical dexterity, and 
to cum Ilia money with as little expense of time and 
trouble as possible ; he became more and more feeble, 
mannered, and monotonous, continually repeating the 
same figures, actions, and heads, till his very adiairore 

lAIMlSSA AM> ClIII-U, aftw IVrmrin.. 

ments. and eomotimes droesed her with his own hands. 
To the reproach of avarice — too well founded— some 
writers have added that of irreligion : nay, two centuries 
nftcr hie death they sliowed the spot where he was 
bnriod in unconsecrated ground under a few trees, near 
FoDtignano, he having refused to receive the last Bacra- 
ments : this acensatton has hecn reiiited ; and in truth 
there is sTich a divine beauty in some of the best pictures 
of I'erugino, such exquifiito purity and tendemegs in 
his Madonnas, such an espresgion of enthiieiaatic faitli 
and devotion in some of the heads, that it would be 
painful to believe that there was no corresponding 
feeling in his heart. In one or two of his pictures ha 
has rpnched a degree of fiuhlimity worthy of him ■who 
was the master of Itaphuel, hut the instancea are few. 

In our National Gallery wo have one of hie most 
exqaifiito productione, an allaqjiece painted for the 
Certosa at Pavia about IflOl, and in which he is sup- 
poned to Iiavc been assisted by his pupil linphael. In 
ita original form this altarpiccc consisted of eijt divi- 
sioDS or compartment-t — the three which we possess 
rapreM^uting in the centre the Mmhf Pia (the Virgin 
M&ry adoring her divine Son), with on one side the 
fine martial figure of St. Michael, " captain of the hosts 
the Lord," and on the other the graccftil and 
ipaOiising guardian angel, St. Raphael, leading bis 
ig charge Tobias, Of the three small half-length 
;ro!i placed above, one remains in tltu Certusa and 
two are lost. Another little picture in tlie National 
Galluiy (a Madonna and Child with St. John) is m 
paratiroly unimportant and feeble, and must have been 

fi ne t 
^^ tl 


a very early picture, as it is painted in distemper, pro- 
bably before bis first visit to Florence. 

In tbe Lonvre at Paris tbere is a curious all^orical 
picture by Perugino, representing the Combat of Love 
and Chastity ; many figures in a landscape. It seems a 
late production — feeble and tasteless ; and the subject ia 
precisely one least adapted to the painter's style an^ 

In almost every collection on the Continent there ar^ 
works of Perugino, for he was so popular in his lifetime, 
that his pictures were as merchandise, and sold all over 

Pietro Perugino died in 1524. He survived Eaphael 
four years, and he may be said, during the last twenty- 
five years of his life, to have survived himself. 

His scholars were very numerous, but the fame of all 
the rest is swallowed up in that of his great disciple 
Raphael. Bernardino di Perugia, called Pinturicchio, 
was rather an assistant than a pupil : he has left some 
excellent and important works in the Ara Celi, the 
Vatican, and S. IVIaria del Popolo at Home, in the famous 
series of the life of Pius II. at Sienna, and at Spello. He 
was a most elegant and gracefiil painter and a great 
friend of Raphael, though considerably older. We have 
as yet no work of Pinturicchio in our National Galleiy, 
but by another scholar of Perugino, Lo Spagna, we have 
a charming picture — the Madonna and Child glorified, 
with angels singing and playing. 

UNCfcHCn KaTWH.ini, csIIikI 1L niANCU 

( 143 ) 


Born 1450, died 1517. 


There existed throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth 
centuries a succession of painters in Bologna, known in 
the history of Italian art as the earli/ Bolognese school, 
to distinguish it from the later school, which the Carracci 
founded in the same city — a school altogether dissimilar 
iu spirit and feeling. The chief characteristic of the 
former was the fervent piety and devotion of its pro- 
fessors. In the sentiment of their works they resembled 
tbe Umbrian school, but the manner of execution is dif- 
ferent. One of these early painters, Lippo (or Filippo) 
di Dalmasio, was so celebrated for the beauty of his 
iladonnas, that he obtained the name of Lippo dalle Ma- 
donne. He greatly resembled the Frate Angolico in life 
and character, but was inferior as an artist. To his 
heads of the Virgin he gave an expression of saintly 
beauty, purity, and tenderness, which two hundred 
years later excited the admiration and emulation of 
Guido. Lippo died about 1409. Passing over some 
other names, we come to that of the greatest painter of 
the early Bologna school, Francesco Eaibolini. 

144 IL FRANCIA. [Born 1450. 

He was bom in 1450 ; being just four yeare younger 
than his contemporary Pemgino. Like many other 
painters of that age, already mentioned, he was educated 
for a goldsmith, and learned to design and model cor- 
rectly. Francesco's master in the arts of working in 
gold and niello * was a certain Francia, whose name, in 
affectionate gratitude to his memory, be aflerwardg 
adopted, signed it on his pictures, and is better known 
by it than by his own family name. Up to the age of 
forty, Francesco Francia pursued his avocation of gold* 
smith, and became celebrated for the excellence of liis 
workmanship in chasing gold and silver, and the exqui- 
site beauty and tasto of his niellos. lie also excelled in 
engraving dies for coins and medals, and was appointed 
superintendent of the mint in his native city of Bologna, 
which office ho held till his death. 

We are not told how the attention of Francia was first 
directed to the art of painting. It is said that the sight 
of a beautiful picture by Pemgino awakened the dormant 
talent ; that he learned drawing from Marco Zoppo, one 
of the numerous pupils of Squarcione ; and that for many 
months he entertained in his house certain artists who 
initiated him into the use of colours, &o. However thiB 
may be, his earliest picture is dated 1490, when he was 
in his fortieth year. It exists at present in the galleiy 
at Bologna, and represents his favourite subject, so often 
repeated, a Madonna and Child, enthroned, and sur- 
rounded by saints and martyrs. This picture, whidi, 
if it be a first production, may well be termed wonderinl 

* For an account of the art of working in niello, and the inyeih 
fion to which it led, see p. 123. 

SAP 1517.] HIS FRESCOES. 145 

as well as beantifiil, exoited ao much admiration, that 
GioTaimi BentiYOgliOy {hen lord of Bologna, deaiied him 
to paint an altaipieoe for his fiunlly ohapel in the chnroh 
of San Giaoomo. This aeoond easay of hia powers ex- 
cited in the atrongeet degree the enthusiasm of his 
idlow-Gitisena. The people of Bologna were distdn- 
gnahed among the other states of Italy for their patron- 
age of natiye talent ; they now exulted in having pro- 
dooed an artist who might yie with those of Florence, 
or Pemgia, or Venice. 

The vocation of Francia was henceforth determined : 
he abandoned his former employment of goldsmith and 
niello-worker, and became a painter by choice and by 
profession. During the next ten years ho improved 
progressively in composition and in colour, still retain- 
ing the simple and beautiful sentiment which had from 
the first distingniBhed his works. His earliest pictures 
are in oil ; but his success encouraged him to attempt 
fresco, and in this style, which required a grandeur of 
conception and a breadth and rapidity of execution 
lor which his laborious and diminutive works in gold 
and niello could never have prepared his mind or 
hand, he appears to have succeeded at once. He was 
first employed by Bentivoglio to decorate one of the 
chambers in his palace with the story of Judith and 
Holofemes : and he afterwards executed in the chapel 
of St Cecilia a series of frescoes from the legend of that 
saint. ** The composition," says Kugler, ** is extremely 
simple, without any superfluous figures; the action 
dramatic and well conceived. Wo have here the most 
noble figures, the most beautiful and graceful heads, a 

146 IL FRANCIA. [BOBH 1460. 

pore taste in the drapery, and masterly backgproonda." 
It should seem that the merits here enmnerated indnde 
all that constitates perfection: unhappily these fine 
specimens of Franoia's art are Mling into ruin and 

The style of Franda at his best period is very distinct 
from that of Perugino, whom he resembles, however, so 
far as to show that the pictures of the latter were the 
first objects of his emulation and imitation. In the later 
works of Perugino there is a melancholy verging fre* 
quently on sourness and harshness, or fading into in- 
sipidity. Francia, in his richer and deeper colouring, 
his ampler forms, and the cheerful, hopeful, afifectionate 
expression in his heads, reminds us of the Venetian 

His celebrity in a short period had extended through 
the whole of Lombardy. Not only his native city, but 
Parma, Modena, Cesena, and Ferrara, were emulous to 
possess his works. £ven Tuscany, so rich in painters 
of her own, had heard of Francia. The beautiful altar- 
piece which has enriched our National Gallery since the 
year 1841 was painted at the desire of a nobleman of 

This altarpiece is composed of two separate pictures. 
The larger compartment contains eight figures rather 
less than life. In the centre on a raised throne are 
seated the Virgin and her mother St. Anna. The Virgin 
is attired in a red tunic and a dark blue mantle which is 
drawn over the head. She holds in her lap the in&nt 
Christ, to whom St. Anna is presenting a peach. The 
expression of the Virgin is exceedingly pure, calm, and 


Hiiitly» yet iritlMmt the senphrlike lefinement whioh 
WB gee in some of Biqphaera Madonnas ; the head of the 
ilged St. Anna is aimplj dignified and maternal. At the 
iwt of the thione stands the litde St. John, holding in 
his anus the does of leeds and the scanoll inscribed 
'^BoobAffomlM" (BMld the Lamb rf God!). Onesch 
side of the throne are two saints. To the rigjht of the 
Tiigin stands St Paul holding a sword, the instmment 
of his martyrdom; and St. Sebastian bound to a pillar 
and piezoed with arrows: on the left, St. Lawrence 
with the emblematical gridiron and palm-branch ; and 
St Benedict, wearing the white habit of the reformed 
Benedictines. The heads of these saints want elevation 
of form, the brow in all being rather low and narrow ; 
bat the prevailing expression is simple, affectionate, 
devont, full of fiedth and hope. The background is 
formed of two open arches adorned ^ith sculpture, the 
blue sky beyond ; and lower down, between St. Paul 
and St Sebastian, is seen a glimpse of a beautiful land- 
scape. The draperies are grand and ample ; the colouring 
rich and warm ; the execution most finished in every 
part. On the cornice of the raised throne or pedestal 
is inscribed Fra^jcia aurifex Bonoxiensis P. (i. e. painted 
by Francia, goldsmith of Bologna), but no date. It 
measures six feet and a half high by six feet wide. 

Over this square picture was placed the lunette, or 
arch, which is now separated from it. It represents the 
subject called in Italian a Pietd — the dead Eedeemer 
supported on the knees of the Virgin mother. An angel 
clothed in green drapery supports the drooping head of 
the Saviour ; another angel in red drapery kneels at his 

H 2 

148 "- FRANCIA. [Born 1450. 

feet. Grief in the face of the sorrowing mother — in the 
countenances of the angels reverential sorrow and pitj 
— are most admirably expressed. 

This altarpiece was painted by Francia about the 
year 1500, for the Marchesa Buonvisi of Lucca, and 
placed in the chapel of the Buonvisi family in the 
church of San Frediano. It remained there till lately 
purchased by the Duke of Lucca, who sent it with other 
pictures to be disposed of in England. The two pieces 
were valued at 4000?. ; after some negotiation our go« 
vemmcnt obtained them for the National Gallery at the 
price of 3500/.* 

The works of Francia were, until lately, confined to 
the churches of Bologna and other cities of Lombardj; 
now thoy are to be found in all the great collections of 
Europe. The Bologna Gallery contains six, the Berlin 
Museum three of his pictures.f In the Florentine Gal- 
lery is an admirable portrait of a man holding a letter 
in his hand. In the Imperial Gallery at Vienna there 
is a most exquisite altarpiece, the same size and style 
as the one in the National Gallery, but still more beau- 
tiful and poetical : the Virgin and Child are seated on 
the throne in the midst of a charming landscape ; St 
Fmncis standing on one side, and St. Catherine on the 

* In the same church of San Fi'ediano at Lucca, where this altv- 
piece was originally placed, there still exists (in 1858) a picture bj 
Francia of astonishing beauty. It represents that curious subject, 
the Predestination of the Madonna, and not the Assfrntptiont as it ii 
styled in the last edition of Vasari, where, however, due praiM ii 
given to this wonderful picture — " Opera veramente stupenda m ogui 
sua parte.** — Vide Vasari, edit. Lemonnier, vi. 19, 

f One of these (No. 253) is a repetition of the Pietii in our National 


other. The Grallery at Munich contains a picture by 
him, perhaps the most charming he ever painted: it 
represents a Madre Pia, — the infant Saviour lying on 
the grass amid roses and flowers, while the Virgin 
stands before him, looking down with clasped hands, in 
an ecstaoy of love and devotion, on her divine Son : the 
figures are rather less than life. 

It is pleasant to be assured that the life and character 
of Francia were in harmony with his genius. Yasari 
describes him as a man of comely aspect, of exemplary 
morals, of amiable and cheerful manners ; in conversa- 
tion so witty, BO wise, and so agreeable, that in discourse 
with him the saddest man would have felt his melan- 
choly dissipated, his cares forgotten ; adding that he 
was loved and venerated not only by his family and 
fellow-citizens, but by strangers and the princes in 
whose service he was employed. A most interesting 
circumstance in the life of Francia was his fncndship 
and correspondence with the youthful Raphael, who 
was thirty-four years younger than himself. There is 
extant a letter which Eaphael addressed to Francia in 
the year 1 508. In this letter, which is expressed with 
exceeding kindness and deference, Eaphael excuses him- 
self for not having painted his own portrait for his 
friend, and promises to send it soon ; he presents him 
with his design for the Nativity, and requests to have 
in return Francia's design for the Judith,* to be placed 
among his most precious treasures ; he alludes, but dis- 
creetly, to the grief which Francia must have felt when 

• This drawing is said to exist in the collection of the Archduke 
Charles, at Vienna. — See Passavant. 

150 H FRAKCIA. [Bour 1450. 

his patron Bentivoglio was exiled from Bologna by Pope 
Jnlins II. ; and he ooncludes affectionately, ** oontinne to 
love me as I love yon, with all my heart." Baphael 
afterwards, according to his promise, sent his portrait 
to his friend, and Francia addressed to him a very pretty 
sonnet, in which he styles him, as if prophetically, the 
*' painter above all painters : " 

1 »» 

«< Tu Bolo il Pittor sei de' Pittori. 

About the year 1516 Haphael sent to Bologna his 
&mons picture of the St. Cecilia surrounded by other 
Saints, which had been commanded by a lady of the 
house of Bentivoglio, to decorate the church of St. 
Cecilia, the same church in which Francia had painted 
the frescoes already mentioned. Haphael, in a modest 
and affectionate letter, recommended the picture to the 
care of his friend Francia, entreating him to be present 
when the CAse was opened, to repair any injury it might 
have received in the carriage, and to correct anything 
which seemed to him faulty in the execution. Francia 
zealously fulfilled his wishes : and when he beheld this 
masterpiece of the divinest of painters, burst into tran- 
sports of admiration and delight, placing it far above all 
that he had himself accomplished. As he died a short 
time afterwards, it was said that he had sickened of envy 
and despair on seeing himself thus excelled, and, in his 
native city, his best works eclipsed by a young rival. 
Yasari tells this story as a tradition of his own time ; 
his expression is " come alcvni credono " (as some believe) ; 
but it rests on no other evidence, and is so contrary to 
all we know of the gentle and generous spirit of Francia, 




amd w isoransteDt villi fba aentimcmti whidt fbr manj 
jmn be bad dMriahed and avowed for Baphael, that ire 
wtgr fit a amA» as imworUij of all Ixlkf. The date (^ 
ia'a death haa been a matter of di^nite, but it 
■ ovtain, tnaa KMo doonmanti lately diaoovered 
at Boio^n, dwt be died KaBter of flie Hint in that oil7, 
en die SUt of Jannaiy, 1618, being tiien in hi> aix^- 
«|(^ith year. Hi* ion Oiaoimo became an eeteemed 
painter in biafidhei^a style : in the Berlin Qalleiy then 
ansbcpiotareabybiaband; and one by GioMo Francia, 
• «nnain and popQ at the elder I^aacJa. 

( 162 ) 



Born 1469, died 1517. 

Before wo enter on the golden age of painting — that 
splendid aera which crowded into a brief quarter of a 
century (between 1505 and 1530) the greatest names 
and most consummate productions of the art — we must 
speak of one more painter justly celebrated. Perugino 
and Francia, of whom we have spoken at length, and 
Fka Bahtoix)meo, of whom we are now to speak, were 
still living at this period; but they belonged to a 
previous age, and were informed by a wholly different 
spirit. They contributed in some degree to the per- 
fection of their great contemporaries and successors, but 
they owed the sentiment which inspired their own 
works to influences quite distinct from those which 
prevailed during the next half century. Tlie last of 
these elder painters of the first Italian school was Fra 

He was bom in the little town of Savignano, in the 
territory of Prato, near Florence. Of his family little 
is known, and of his younger years nothing, but that, 
having shown a disposition to the art of design, he was 
placed under the tuition of Cosimo Roselli (of whom I 







ksTp alroitdy spoken) ; and tliat whili- receiving his 
insirnctions lie resided with eomc relations who dwelt 
hmt one of the gate*! of the city (la Porta Sau Piero). 
Hence for the first thirty years of liis life he was known 
oDQg his cotnpanioDs by the name of Baccio della 
Porta; Baccio being the Tuscan diminutive of Bar- 
tulonieo. ^S'hile studying in the utelitr of Cosimo RoseUi, 
IWio formed a fricudBhip with Mariotto AlbertinelU, 
■ pnng painter about his own age. It was on both 
ridea an attachment almost fraternal. They painted 
logolher, sometimes on tlie same picture, and in elylo 
«id sentiment were so similar that it has become 
difficult to distinguish their works. Baccio was, how- 
ever, more particularly distingniahed by liie feeling 
for softness and harmony of colour, and the tender and 
devout expression of his religious pictures. From his 
earliest years he appears to have been a religious 
enthusiast, and this turn of mind not only oharacterised 
all the productions of his pencil, but involved him in 
a ein^nUr manner witl) some of the most remarkable 
events and charaeters of his time. 

Lorenzo de' Medici, called Lorenzo the Magnificent, 
was then roaster of the liberties of Florence, The re- 
Tival of classical learning, the study of the antique 
sculptures (diffnsed, as we have related, by the school 
of Padua, and rendered still more a fashion by the 
influence and popularity of Andrea Mantegna, already 
old, and Michael Angolo, then a young man_), was 
fBpidly eormptiog the simple and pious taste which 
hitherto prevailed in art, even while imparting to 
more nnivereal direction, and a finer feeling for 

154 FRA BARTOLOMEO. [Born 1469. 

beauty and sublimity in the abstract. At tbe same 
time, and encouraged for their own purposes by the 
Medici &mily, there prevailed with this pagan taste in 
literature and art a general laxity of morals, a lic^ice 
of conduct, and a disregard of all sacred things, such 
as had never, even in the darkest ages of barbarism, 
been known in Italy. The papal chair was during 
that period filled by two popes, the perfidious and cruel 
Sixtus IV., and the yet more detestable Alexander YI. 
(the infamous Borgia). Florence, meantime, under the 
sway of Lorenzo and his sons, became one of the most 
magnificent, but also one of the most dissolute of cities. 
The natural tasto and character of Bartolomeo placed 
him far from this luxurious and licentious court; but 
he had acquired great reputation by the exquisite beauty 
and tenderness of his Madonnas, and he was employed 
by the Dominicans of the convent of St. Mark to paint a 
fresco in their church, representing the Last Judgment. 
At this time Savonarola, an eloquent friar in the convent, 
was preaching against the disorders of the times, the 
luxury of the nobles, the usurpation of the Medici, 
and the vices of the popes, with a fearless fervour and 
eloquence which his hearers and himself mistook for 
direct inspiration from heaven. The influence of this 
extraordinary man increased daily ; and among his most 
devoted admirers and disciples was Bartolomeo. In a 
fit of perplexity and remorse, caused by an eloquent 
sermon of Savonarola, he joined with many others in 
making a sacrifice of all the books and pictures which 
related to heathen poetry and art on which they could 
lay their hands; into this funeral pyre, which was 


kindled in sigiht of the people in one of the principal 
■treetB of Florence, Bertdomeo fiang all those of his 
desq^ns, drawings, and studies which repiesented either 
proEuie subjects or the human figure undraped, and he 
almost wholly abandoned the practice of his art for 
the society of his friend and spiritual pastor. But the 
talents, the enthusiasm, the popularity of Savonarola had 
mailed him for destruction. He was exconmranicated 
by the pope for heresy, denounced by the Medici, and 
at length forsaken by the fickle people who had followed, 
obeyed, ahnoet adored him as a saint. Bartolomeo 
happened to be lodged in the conyent of St. Mark when 
it was attacked by the rabble and a party of nobles. 
The partisans of Savonarola were massacred, and Sa- 
vonarola himself carried off to torture and to death. 
Our pious and excellent painter was not remarkable for 
courage. Terrified by the tumult and horrors around 
him, he hid himself, vowing, if ho escaped the danger, 
to dedicate himself to a religious life. Within a few 
weeks the unhappy Savonarola, after suffering the 
torture, was publicly burned in the Grand Piazza of 
Florence ; and Bartolomeo, struck with horror at the fate 
of his friend — a horror which seemed to |)araly6e all 
his fiu^ulties — took the vows and became a friar in the 
Dominican convent of San Marco, leaving to his friend 
Albertinolli the task of completing those of his frescoes 
and pictures which were left unfinished. 

He passed the next four years of his life without 
touching a pencil, in the austere seclusion of his convent. 
At the end of this period the entreaties and commands 
of his Superior induced Bartolomeo to resume the 

1 56 FRA BARTOLOMEO. [Boiw 1469. 

practice of hia art, and from this time he is known as 
Fra Bartolomeo di San Marco, and by many writers he 
is styled simply II Frate (the Friar) ; in Italy he is 
scarcely known by any other designation. 

Timid by nature, and tormented by religious scruples, 
he at first returned to his easel with languor and re- 
luctance ; but an incident occurred which re-awakened 
all his genius and enthusiasm. Young Raphael, then 
in his twenty-first year, and already celebrated, arrived 
in Florence. He visited the Frate in his cell, and 
between these kindred spirits a friendship ensued which 
ended only with death, and to which we partly owe 
the finest works of both. Eaphael, who was a perfect 
master of perspective, instructed his friend in the more 
complicated rules of the science, and Fra Bartolomeo 
in return initiated Eaphael into some of his methods of 

It was not, however, in the merely mechanical pro- 
cesses of art that these two great painters owed most to 
each other. It is evident, on examining his works, that 
Fra Bartolomeo's greatest improvement dates from his 
acquaintance with Raphael ; that his pictures from this 
time display more energy of expression— a more intel- 
lectual grace ; while Raphael imitated his friend in the 
softer blending of his colours, and learned from him the 
art of arranging draperies in an ampler and nobler style 
than he had hitherto practised ; in fact, he had just at 
this time caught the sentiment and manner of Bartolomeo 
so completely, that the only great work he executed at 
Florence (the Madonna del Baldachino in the Palazzo 
Fitti) might be at the first glance mistaken for a com- 


positioii Of fhe Frate. Biohardfion, an excellent writer 
and first-iate authority, observes that "at this time 
Fia Bartolomeo seeniB to haye been the greater man, 
and might haye been the Baphael, had not Fortmie been 
detennmed in &yoar of the other." It is not, however, 
Fortane alone which detenninee these things ; and of 
Kaphael we might say, as Constance said of her son, 
that ** at his birth Nature and Fortnne joined to make 
him greal'* Bnt this is digressing, and we mnst now 
return to the personal history of the Frate. 

Abont the year 1513 Bartolomeo obtained leave of the 
Superior of his oonvent to visit Bome. He had heard 
so much of the grand works on which Eaphael and 
Michael Angelo were employed by Leo X., that he 
Gonld no longer repress the wish to behold and judge 
with his own eyes these wonderful productions. He 
was also engaged to paint in the church of St. Sylvester 
on Monte Cavallo : but the air of Eome did not agree 
with him. He indeed renewed his friendship with 
Baphael, and they spent many hours and days in each 
other's society; but Baphael had by this time so far 
outrun him in every kind of excellence, and what he 
saw around him in the Vatican and in the Sistine 
Chapel so fax surpassed his previous conceptions, that 
admiration and astonishment seemed to swallow up the 
feeling of emulation. There was no envy in his gentle 
and pious mind, but he could not paint, he could not 
apply himself ; a cloud fell upon his spirits, which was 
attributed partly to indisposition ; and he returned to 
Florence, leaving at Bome only two imfinished pictures, 
figures of St. Peter and St. Paul, which Baphael under- 

Dbd 1517.] HIS PBINCIPAL WORKS. 1 59 

moveniAiit and expieflnon ; the pervading oentiment in 
all lua best piotnresiBMuMw. He partionlarlj excelled 
in the figures of boy-angels, which he introduced into 
most of his groups, sometiines playing on musical instru- 
mentB, seated at the feet of the Yirgin, or bearing a 
canopy over her head, but, howerer employed, always 
full of in&ntine grace and candour. He is also fiuned 
for the rich architecture he introdnced into his pictures, 
and for the grand and flowing style of his draperies. It 
was his opinion that every object should be painted, if 
possible, from nature; and for the better study and 
arrangement of the drapery, he inTcnted those wooden 
figures with joints (called lay-figures) 'which are now to 
be found in the studio of every painter, and which have 
been of incalcnlable service in art. 

We have not, as yet, any picture by Fra Bartolomeo 
in our National Gallery. Lucca, Florence, and Vienna 
possess the three finest. 

The first of these, at Lucca, is perhaps the most im- 
portant of all his works. It is called the Madonna della 
Misericordia, and represents the Yirgio, a grand and 
beauti^ figure, standing on a raised platform with 
outstretched aims : beneath her ample robe, which is 
held open by two angels, are groups of suppliants, who 
look up to her as she looks up to heaven, where, hovering 
in a glory of light, is seen her divine Son. Wilkie, in 
one of his letters from Italy (1827), dwells upon the 
beauty of this noble picture, and says that it combines 
the merits of Baphael, of Titian, of Bembrandt, and of 
Bubens ! " Here," he says, ** a monk in the retirement 
of his cloister, shut out from the taunts and criticism of 

V 160 FRA BARTOLOMEO. [Boiw 1469. 

the world, seems to liave anticipated in his ettrlj time 
all that his art could arrive at in its most advanced 
maturity ; and this he has been able to do without the 
usual blandishments of the more recent periods, and 
with all the higher qualities peculiar to the age in which 
he lived."* 

This is very high praise, particularly from such a 
man as Wilkie. The mere outline engraving in Hosini's 
• Storia della Pittura' will show the beauty of the compo- 
sition ; and the testimony of Wilkie with regard to the 
magical colouring is sufficient. The group in the illus- 
trative woodcut would form of itself a picture. 

The St. Mark in the Pitti Palace is a single figure, 
seated, and holding his Gospel in his hand. For this 
picture a grand-duke of Tuscany (Ferdinand II.) paid 
1200/. nearly two hundred years ago, which, according 
to the present value of money, would be equal to about 
3000/. Much finer, though less celebrated than the 
figure of St. Mark, is a Deposition from the Cross, also 
in the Pitti Palace, in which the Virgin gazing on the 
face of her dead Son, and the Magdalene bowed down 
with anguish over his feet, are remarkable for depth of 
pathetic expression. 

In the Imperial Gallery at Vienna is the Presentation 
in the Temple, a picture of wonderful dignity and 
beauty, and well known by the fine engravings which 
exist of it. The figures are rather less than life. 

In the Louvre at Paris are two very fine pictures ; 
a Madonna enthroned, with several figures, life size, 

* Life of Sir David Wilkie, vol. ii. p. 451. 

Vaa inT.] 


lAiA mw pKinted m an alfaipieoe tar hk own otat- 
vmt of St Hkik, and afUrfrudB aent m « pnaent to 
T fumg X> ; tiw oflier ia an AmumciatiaiL. 

In thB Gallwy of Loid VeatiiuiiBter there ia m drrxM 
Iitil« piotare, in ivliich die infiott CSuiat ia repramted 
reclining on iba h^ of the Tiigin, and Ixdding ib» 
ooaa, wbiah the Tonng St. Joba, atretching fivth hia 
■nnB, uppeua anxioiiB to talw from him. 

Th«Beriin Qalleiy oontsina only one ctf hia potnzea; 
fibe Dreaden GaOeiy not one. Hia woAa xre beat 
■tadied ait Zioocft and in hia natiTo oitf of Florence, to 
which they are chiefly oonfined. 

Fib Bartolomeo had several Bcholan, none of whom 
wen distuigiUBhed except a nun of the monasteiy of St. 
Catherine, known as Snor Plantilla, who imitated Ma 
style, and has lefb some beantifnl pictures. 

( 163 ) 


BOKM 1452, DIED 1519. 


We now approach the period when the art of pamiing 
reached its highest perfection, whether considered with 
reference to poetry of conception, or the mechanica 
means throngh which these conceptions were embodied 
in the noblest forms. Within a short period of abont 
thirty years, t. e. between 1490 and 1620, the greatest 
painters whom the world has yet seen were living and 
working together. On looking back we cannot but feel 
that the excellence they attained was the resnlt of the 
efforts and aspirations of a preceding age ; and yet these 
men were so great in their vocation, and so individual 
in their greatness, that, losing sight of the linked chain 
of progress, they seemed at first to have had no pre* 
cursors, as they have since had no peers. Though 
living at the same time, and most of them in personal 
relation with each other, the direction of each mind 
was different — was peculiar ; though exercising in some 
sort a reciprocal influence, this influence never interfered 
with the most decided originality. These wonderful 
artists, who would have been remarkable men in their 
time though they had never touched a pencil, were 
Lionardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, Baphael, Correggio, 

Died 1519.] UOKARDO DA YINCI. 163 

I, in Italy; and in Germany, Albert 
Dorer. Of these men we mi^t aaj, as of Homer and 
Sbakspere, that they belong to no particular age or 
aii m try, bat to all time, and to the nniyerse. Hiat 
they flonriahed together within one brief and brilliant 
period, and that each carried oat to the highest degree 
of perfection his own peooliar aims, waa no casaalty : 
nor aie we to seek fin: the eanses of this sarpassing 
excellence merely in the history of the art as sach. 
The eanses lay far deeper, and most be referred to the 
history of hnman caltare. The fermenting activity of 
the fifteenth century fonnd its resnlts in the extraor- 
dinary development of human intelligence in the com- 
menoement of the sixteenth century. We often hear 
in these days of *' the spirit of the age ;" but in that 
wonderful age three mighty spirits were stirring society 
to its depths: — ^the spirit of bold investigation into 
truths of all kinds, which led to the Keformation ; the 
spirit of daring adventure, which led men in search of 
new worlds beyond the eastern and the western oceans ; 
and the spirit of art, through which men soared even 
to the '* seventh heaven of invention.** 

LioxARDO DA Vixa seems to present in his own person 
a resume of all the characteristics of the age in which 
he lived. He was the miracle of that age of miracles. 
Ardent and versatile as youth ; patient and persevering 
as age; a most profound and original thinker; the 
greatest mathematician and most ingenious mechanic of 
his time^ architect, chemist, engineer, musician, peet^ 
painter 9^we are not only astounded by the variety of 
his natural gifts and acquired knowledge, but by the 

164 LIONARDO DA VINCI. [Bork 1452. 

praotioal direction of his amazing powers.* The extracts 
whicli have been published from MSS. now existing in 
his own handwriting show him to have anticipated by 
the force of his own intellect some of the greatest dis- 
coveries made since his time. These fragments, says 
Mr. Hallam,'!' " are, according to onr common estimate 
of the age in. which he lived, more like revelations of 
physical truths vouchsafed to a single mind, than the 
superstructure of its reasoning upon any established 
basis. The discoveries which made Galileo, Kepler, 
Gastelli, and other names illustrious — the system of 
Copernicus — the very theories of recent geologists, are 
anticipated by Da Vinci within the compass of a few 
pages, not perhaps in the most precise language, or on 
the most conclusive reasoning, but so as to strike us 
with something like the awe of preternatural knowledge. 
In an age of so much dogmatism he first laid down the 
grand principle of Bacon, that experiment and observa- 
tion must be the guides to just theory in the investiga- 
tion of nature. If any doubt could be harboured, not 
as to the right of Lionardo da Vinci to stand as the 
first name of the fifteenth century, which is beyond all 
doubt, J but as to his originality in so many discoveries, 
which probably no one man, especially in such cir- 

* The Italian writers thus sum up the qualifications of Lionardo 
with an array of discriminative epithets not easily translated : — 
" Vaknte musico e poeta; ingegnoso mecanico; profondo georoetra e 
matematico; egregio architetto; esimio idraulico; eccelente plastica- 
tore e somtno pittore." 

+ * History of the Literature of Europe.' 

X When we think of Lionardo's contemporary, Columbua, we 
feel inclined, if not to dispute this fiat of the great historian, at 
least to ponder on it, and those ponderings lead us far. 


onmBtanoeB, has ever made— it must be by an bypotheaia 
not yeiy imtenable« tibat some parts of physical sdenoe 
had already attained a height which mere books do not 

It seems at first si^t ahnost incomprehensible that, 
thus endowed as a philosopher, mechanic, inventor, 
discoverer, the fiune of Lionardo should now rest on the 
works he has left as a painter. We cannot, within these 
limits, attempt to explain why and how it ia that as the 
man of science he has been naturally and necessarily 
left behind by the onward march of inteUectnal progress, 
while as the poet-painter he still survives as a presence 
and a power^ We must proceed at once to give some 
account of him in the character in which he exists to us 
and for us — that of the great artist. 

Lionardo was bom at Vinci, near Florence, in the 
Lower Val d'Amo, on the borders of the territory of 
Pistoia. His father, Piero da Vinci, was an advocate of 
Florence — not rich, but in independent circumstances, 
and possessed of estates in land. The singular talents of 
his son induced Piero to give him, from an early age, 
the advantage of the best instructors. As a child, he 
distinguished himself by his proficiency in arithmetic 
and mathematics. Music ho studied early, as a science 
as well as an art. He invented a species of lyre for 
himself, and sung his own poetical compositions to 
bis own music — both being frequently extemporaneous. 
But his favourite pursuit was the art of design in all 
its branches ; he modelled in clay or wax, or attempted 
to draw every object which struck his fancy. His father 
sent him to study under Andrea Verrocchio (of whom 

166 LIONARDO DA VINCI. [Bobn 1452. 

we have already given some account), famous as a 
sculptor, chaser in metal, and painter. Andrea, who 
was an excellent and correct designer, but a bad and 
hard colourist, was soon after engaged to paint a 
picture of the Baptism of our Saviour. He employed 
Lionardo, then a youth, to execute one of the angels : 
this he did with so much softness and richness of colour, 
that it fax surpassed the rest of the picture ; and Yerroc- 
chio from that time threw away his palette, and confined 
himself wholly to his works in sculpture and design ; 
** enraged," says Yasari, '* that a child should thus excel 

The youth of Lionardo thus passed away in the pursuit 
of science and of art : sometimes ho was deeply engaged 
in iistronomical calculations and investigations ; some- 
times ardent in the study of natural history-, lx)tany, 
and unutomy ; sometimes intent on new effects of colour, 
light, shjulow, or expression, in representing objects 
animate or injinimato. Yersatile, yet persevering, he 
varied his pursuits, but he never abandoned any. He 
was (luito a young man when he conceived and demon- 
strated the practicability of two magnificent projects : 
one was, to lift the whole of the church of San Lorenzo, 
by means of inmiense levers, some feet higher than it 
now stands, and thus supply the deficient elevation ;t 
the other project was, to form the Amo into a navigable 

♦ This picture is now preserved in the Academy at Florence. The 
firrtt an^el on the right in that which was painted by Lionardo. 

f Wild as this pn)ject must have appeared, it waa not pevkqit 
impossible. In our days the Sunderland lighthoujM was lifted Kh)m 
its foundations, and removed to a distance of sereral }'ard8. 

Obd 1519.] THB BOTELIO DEL nCO. 167 

mud M fiur M Pisft, wiiibh would have added greatly 
to tlie oomiDeriQial adTantages of Floienoe.* 

It happened aboat ihia time that a peasant on the 
estate ef Fiero da Yinoi brought him a oiroahyr piece of 
wood, out horiaontally from the tnmk of a verj large 
old fig-tree, which had been lately felled, and begged to 
hare aomeihing painted on it as an ornament for hia 
cottage. The man being an especial &yonrite, Piero 
desiied his son Lionaido to gratify his request; and 
Lionardo, inspired by that wildness of fency which was 
one of his chanioteristics, took the panel into his own 
room, and resolved to astonish his &ther by a most 
milookod-for proof of his art. He determined to com- 
pose something which should have an effect similar to 
that of the Medusa on the shield of Perseus, and almost 
petrify beholders. Aided by bis recent studies in natural 
history, he collected together from the neighbouring 
swamps and the river-mud all kinds of hideous reptiles, 
as adders, lizards, toads, serpents — insects, as moths, 
locusts — and other crawling and flying obscene and 
obnoxious things ; and out of these he composed a sort 
of monster or chimera, which he represented as about 
to issue from the shield, with eyes flashing fire, and of 
an aspect so fecoful and abominable that it seemed to 
infect the very air around. AVhen finished, he led his 
&ther into the room in which it was placed, and the 
terftir and horror of Piero proved the success of his 
attempt. Thi» production, afterwards known as the 
Botdlo del Fico;\ from the material on which it was 

• ThiB project was carried into execution 200 years later. 
t JRoteUo meaoB a shield or buckler ; Fico, a fig-tree. 

168 LIONARDO DA VINCf. [Born 1452. 

painted, was sold by Piero secretly for one hundred 
ducats to a merchant, who carried it to Milan, and sold 
it to the duke for three hundred. To the poor peasant 
thus cheated of his Botello Piero gave a wooden shield, 
on which was painted a heart transfixed by a dart ; a 
device better suited to his taste and comprehension. 
In the subsequent troubles of Milan, Lionardo's picture 
disappeared, and was probably destroyed as an object 
of horror by those who did not understand its value as a 
work of art. 

The anomalous monster represented on the EoteUo 
was wholly different from the Medusa, afterwards painted 
by Lionardo, and now existing in the Florence Gallery. 
This represents the 80"vered head of Medusa, seen fore- 
shortened, lying on a fragment of rock: the features 
are beautiful and regular; the hair already metamor- 
phosed into serpents — 

" which curl and flow, 
And their long tangles in each other lock. 
And with unending involutionfl show 
Their mailed radiance.'* 

Those who have once seen this terrible and fascinating 
picture can never forget it. The ghastly head seems to 
expire, and the serpents to crawl into glittering life, as 
we look upon it. 

During this first period of his life, which was wholly 
passed in Florence and its neighbourhood, Lionardo 
painted several other pictures of a very different cha- 
racter, and designed some beautiful cartoons of sacred 
and mythological subjects, which showed that his sense 
of the beautiful, the elevated, and the graceful, was not 

Dm 15U.] IHTITED TO HILIN. left 

Ihb ft put of Ids mind tlum fhst eooentrioity and almost 
pemnioa of &1K17 which made him delight in aketching 
vglj, exageoiated caricatonfl, and repreaentiiig the de- 
fbmted and the terrible. 
J Idonaido da Tinci waa now about thiily yean old, in 
/ the prime cS hia life and talents. Hia taate for pleaanre 
and expense was, however, eqTial to hia genius and 
inde&tigable indnatiy ; and anzioos to seoore a certain 
proriaion for the fntnre, as well as a wider field for the 
exerciae of hia various talents, he accepted the invitation 
of Lndorico Sforza il Kloro, then regent, afterwards 
Duke of Milan, to redde in hiB oonrt, and to execute 
a colossal eqaestrian statue of his ancestor Fraucesco 
Sfoiza. Here begins the second period of bis artistic 
career, which includes his sojourn at Milan, that is, 
from 1483 to 1499. 

Vasari says that Lionardo was invited to the court of 
Milan for the Duke Ludovico's amueemcnl, " as a mnsi' 
cian and performer on the lyre, and as the greatest 
singer and improvisatore of hia time;" but this is im- 
probable. Lionardo, in his long letter to that prince, 
in which he recites hia own qualifications for employ- 
ment, dwells chiefly on his skill in engineering and 
fortification ; and sums up his pretensions as an artist 
in these few brief words : — " I understand the difierent 
modes of sculpture in marblo, bronze, and terra-cotta. 
In painting, also, I may esteem myself equal to any 
one, let him be who he may." Of his musical talents 
he makes no mention whatever, though undoubtedly 
these, as well as his other social accomplishments, his 
handsome person, his winnii^ address, his wit and 

170 LIONARDO DA VINCI. [Bobs 1452. 

eloquence, recommended him to the notice of the prince, 
by whom he was greatly beloved, and in whose service 
he remained for about seventeen years. It is not 
necessary, nor would it be possible here, to give a 
particular account of all the works in whioh Lionardo 
was engaged for his patron,* nor of the great political 
events in which he was involved, more by his position 
than by his inclination ; for instance, the invasion of 
Italy by Charles YIII. of France, and the subsequent 
invasion of Milan by Louis XII., which ended in the 
destruction of the Duke Ludovico. The greatest woik 
of all, and by far the grandest picture which, up to that 
time, had been executed in Italy, was the Last Supper, 
painted on the wall of the refectory, or dining-room, of 
the Dominican convent of the Madonna delle Grazie. It 
occupied Lionardo about two years, from 1496 to 1498. 

The moment selected by the painter is described in 
the 2Gth chapter of St. Matthew, 21st and 22nd verses : 
** And as thoy did eat, he said. Verily, I say unto you, 
that one of you shall betray me : and they were exceed- 
ing sorrowful, and began every one of them to say imto 
him, Lord, is it I ?" The knowledge of character dis- 
played in the heads of the diflferent apostles is even more 
wonderful than the skilful arrangement of the figures 
and the amazing beauty of the workmanship. The 
space occupied by the picture is a wall 28 feet in length, 
and the figures are larger than life. 

Of this magnificent creation of art only the moulder- 

* Of these, the canal of the Martesana, aa well from its utility as 
from the difficulties he surmounted in its execution, would have 
been sufficient to immortalize him. 

Datn 1&I9.] 



ii^ remains Mrs now visible. It ha8 been bo often 
pured, that almost every vestige of the original painting 
IB BOinihilated ; but from tlie multiplicity of descriptions, 
engnLTingB. and cupies that exist, no picture is more 
oniverBally known and celebrated. Ferbnps tbe best 
judgment ivd can now form of its merits is from the fine 
copy esecQted by one of Lionardo's best pnpils, Marca 
Uggione, for iLe Certosa at Pavta, and now in London, 

the collc«tion of the Boyal Academy. Eleven other 
ODpies, by varii'tis pupQs of Lionardo. painted either 
idoring his lifetime or within a few jit.'axs after his death, 
while the picttire was iu perfect preservation, eiist 
diflerent churches and collections. 

While cnj^gcd on the Cenacolo, Lianardo painted 
portrait of Lncrezia GnTelli, now in the Louvre (Ni 
48^). It has been engraved under the title of La BeJU 
ftrrotiiirr, bat later researches leave no doubt that it 
represents Lncrezia Crivelli, a beautiful favourite 
Ludorico SfoTxa, and was painted at Milan in 1497. 
ii. as a work of art, of such extraordiiMty perfection 
all critioal admiration is lust in wonder. 

Of the grand equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza, 
Lionardo never finished more tlian the model in clay, 
which was considered a masterpiece. Some 
anerwaids (in 1490), when Milan was invaded by tl 
French, it was used as a target by the Gascon bowmt 
and ojmplotcly destroyed. The profound anatomi( 
Ktadies which Lionardo made for this work still exist. 

In the year 1600, the French being in possession 
lUilfin. his patron Ludovico in captivity, and the affi 
of the 0tBto m ntter confusion, Lionardo returned to 




St ia^^J 

ite ol^H 


native Florence, where be hoped to re-establish his 
broken fortunes, and to find employment. Here begizm 
the third period of his artistic life, from 1500 to 1513, 
that is, from his forty-eighth to his sixtieth year. He 
found the Medici fiEimily in exile, but was received by 
Pietro Soderini (who governed the city as '* Gonfdkmiat 
perpetuo*') with great distinction, and a pension was 
assigned to him as painter in the service of the republic. 
One of his first works after his return to Florence was 
the famous portrait of Madonna Lisa del Giocondo, called 
in French La Joconde, and now in the Louvre (484), which 
after the death of Lionardo was purchased by Francis L 
for 4000 gold crowns, equal to 45,000 francs or 1800/., 
an enormous sum in those days, yet who ever thought 
it too much ? 

Then began the rivalry between Lionardo and Michael 
Angelo, which lasted during the remainder of Lionardo's 
life. The difference of age (for Michael Angelo was 
twenty-two years younger) ought to have prevented all 
unseemly jealousy : but IVIichael Angelo was haughty, 
and impatient of all superiority, or even equality; 
Lionardo, sensitive, capricious, and naturally disinclined 
to admit the pretensions of a rival, to whom he could 
say, and did say, " I was famous before you were bom!" 
With all their admiration of each other's genius, their 
mutual frailties prevented any real good-will on either 
side. The two painters competed for the honour of 
painting in fresco one side of the great Coimcil-hall in 
the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence. It teas to have been 
adorned with the great deeds of the Florentine republic, 
by two of the greatest men that republic had ever pro- 


dooed. We now see it covered with the ostentations 
misdeeds of the tyrant Cosmo, executed bj the servile 
painteia of the sixteenth oentniy. Each prepared his 
cartoon ; each, emnlons of the fame and conscious of the 
abilities of his rival, threw all his best powers into his 
work. Lionardo chose for his subject the Defeat of the 
Milanese general Nicool6 Ficcinino by the Florentine 
army in 1440. One of the finest groups represented a 
combat of cavalry disputing the possession of a standard. 
" It was so wonderfully executed, that the horses them* 
selves seemed animated by the same fury as their riders ; 
nor is it possible to describe the variety of attitudes, the 
splendour of the dresses and armour of the warriors, nor 
the incredible skill displayed in the forms and uctions of 
the horses." 

Michael Angelo chose for his subject the moment 
before the same battle, when a party of Florentine 
soldiers bathing in the Amo are surprised by the sound 
of the trumpet calling them to arms. Of this cartoon 
we shall have more to say in treating of his life. The 
preference was given to Lionardo da Vinci. But, as 
Vasari relates, he spent so much time in trying experi- 
ments, and in preparing the wall to receive oil-painting, 
which he preferred to fresco, that in the interval some 
changes in the government intervened, and the design 
was abandoned about 1 505. The two cartoons remained 
for several years open to the public, and artists flocked 
from every part of Italy to study them. Subsequently 
they were cut up into separate parts, dispersed, and lost. 
It is curious that of Micliael Angelo's composition only 
one small copy exists ; of Lionardo^ s, not one. From a 

174 UONARDO DA VINCI. [Bohs 1452. 

fragment which existed in his time, bnt which has since 
disappeared, Bubens made a fine drawing, which was 
engraved by Edelinck, and is known as the Battle of 
the Standard. 

It was a reproach against Lionardo, in his own time, 
that he began many things and finished few ; that his 
magnificent designs and projects, whether in art or 
mechanics, were seldom completed. This may be a 
subject of regret, bnt it is unjust to make it a reproach. 
It was in the nature of the man. The grasp of his mind 
was so nearly superhuman, that he never, in anything 
he efiected, satisfied himself or realized his own vast 
conceptions. The most exquisitely finished of his works, 
those that in the jHirfection of the execution have excited 
the wonder and despair of succeeding artists, were put 
aside by him as unfinished sketches. Most of the 
pictures now attributed to him were wholly or in part 
painted by his scholars and imitators from his cartoons. 
One of the most famous of these was designed for the 
altarpioco of the church of the convent called the 
Nunziata. It represented the Virgin Mary seated in 
the lap of her mother St. Anna, having in her arms the 
infant Christ, while St. John is playing with a lamb at 
their feet ; St. Anna, looking on with a tender smile, 
rejoices in her divine offspring. The figures were drawn 
with such skill, and the various expressions proper to 
each conveyed with such inimitable truth and grace, 
that, when exhibited in a chamber of the convent, the 
inhabitants of the city flocked to see it, and for two days 
the streets were crowded with people, " as if it had been 
some solemn festival;'* but the picture was never 



liorit. In Ih* Lourte, 

Died 1510.] VISITS HOME. 175 

painted, and the monks of the Nunziata, after waiting 
long and in vain for their altarpiece, were obliged to 
employ other artists. The cartoon, or a very fine repe- 
tition of it, is now in the posseesion of onr Bojal 
Academy, and it must not be confounded with the St. 
Anna in the Lonvre, a more fiemtastic and apparently an 
earlier composition. 

Lionardo, during his stay at Florence, painted the 
portrait of Oinevra Benci, already mentioned in the 
memoir of Ghirlandajo as the reigning beauty of her 

We find that in 1502 he was engaged by Caasar Borgia 
to Tisit and report on the fortifications of his territories, 
and in this office he was employed for two years. In 
1503 he formed a plan for turning the course of the 
Amo, and in the following year he lost his father. In 
1505 he modelled the group which we now see over the 
northern door of the San Giovanni at Florence. In 1 51 4 
he was invited to Rome by Leo X., but more in his 
character of philosopher, mechanic, and alchemist, than 
as a painter. Here he found Eaphael at the height of 
his fame, and then engaged in his greatest works — the 
frescoes of the Vatican. Two pictures which Lionardo 
painted while at Rome — the Madonna of St. Onofrio, 
and the Holy Family, painted for Filiberta of Savoy, 
the pope's sister-in-law (which is now at St. Peters- 
burg) — show that even this veteran in art felt the 
irresistible influence of the genius of his young rival. 
They are both RaffaelUsque in the subject and treat- 

It appears that Lionardo was ill satisfied with his 

176 LIONARDO DA VINCI. [Bobn 1452. 

flojoum at Rome. He had long been aooustomed to hold 
the first rank as an artist wherever he resided ; whereas 
at Rome he found himself only one among many who, if 
they acknowledged his greatness, affected to consider his 
day as past. He was conscious that many of the im> 
provemcnts in the arts which were now brought into 
use, and which enabled the painters of the day to 
produce such extraordinary effects, were invented or 
introduced by himself. J£ he could no longer assert 
that measureless superiority over all others which he 
had done in his younger days, it was because he himself 
had opened to them new paths to excellence. The 
arrival of his old competitor Michael Angelo, and some 
slight on the part of Leo X., who was annoyed by his 
speculative and dilatory habits in executing the works 
intrusted to him, all added to his irritation and disgust. 
He left Rome, and set out for Pavia, where the French 
king Francis I. then held his court. He was received 
by the young monarch with every mark of respect, 
loaded with favours, and a pension of 700 gold crowns 
settled on him for life. At the famous conference 
between Frjincis I. and Leo X. at Bologna, Lionardo 
attended his now patron, and was of essential service to 
him on that occasion. In the following year, 1516, he 
returned with Francis I. to France, and was attached to 
the French court as principal painter. It appears, 
however, that during his residence in France he did not 
paint a single picture. His health had begun to decline 
from the time he left Italy ; and feeling his end approach, 
he prepared himself for it by religious meditation, by 
acts of charity, and by a most conscientious distribution 

Dub 151S.] HIS DEATH. 177 

by irill of all his worldly poaBcauoiu to his relatives 
and frienda. At length, after protiacted suSering, this 
great and moat extraordinaiy man died at Cloax, near 
Amboiae, on the 2nd of May, 1519, being then in hia 
■izty-seTenth year. It is to be regretted that we cannot 
wholly credit the beantifhl atoiy of hia dying in the 
anna of Francis I., who, as it lb said, lud come to viait 
him on his deathbed. It wonld indeed have been, a» 
Foseli expreaaed it, " an hononr to the king, by which 
Deatiny would have atoned to that monarch for hia 
fotoie disaatar at Pavia," had the incident really h^i- 
pened, as it has been so often related by biographers, 
celebrated by poets, represented with a just pride iy 
painters, and willingly believed by all the world ; 
bnt the well -authenticated fact tbat the court w-a« vii 
that day at St. Gennain-en-Layc, whence the royal ordi- 
nances are dated, renders the story, unhappily, very 
k We have mentioned a few of the genuine works of 
Lionardo da Yinci ; tbey arc exceedingly rare. It 
appears certain that not one-third of the pictures attri< 
buted to him and bearing bis name were the production 
of his own hand, though they were the creation of his 
mind, for he generally furnished the cartoons or ilcsignn 
from which his pupils executed pictures of various 
degrees of excellence. 

Thus the admirable picture in our Kational Gallert', 
of Christ disputing with the Doctors, though undoubtedly 
designed by Lioaardo, is supposed by some to be exe- 
cuted by his best scholar, Bernardino Luini ; by others 
it is attributed to Francesco Melzi. Those mined pic- 

178 LIONARDO DA VIKCI. [Bowf 1452. 

tares which bear his name at Windsor and at Hampton 
Court are from the Milanese school.* 

Of nine pictures in the Louvre attributed to Lionardo, 
three only — the St. John, and the two famous portraits 
of the Mona Lisa and Luorezia Crivelli — are considered 
genuine. The others are from his designs and from his 

In the Florentine Gallery the Medusa is certainly 
genuine ; but the famous Herodias, holding the dish to 
receive the head of John the Baptist, was probably 
painted from his cartoon by Luini. His own portrait, 
in the same gallery (in the Salle des Feintres), is won- 
derfully fine— indeed the finest of all, and the one which 
at onco attracts and fixes attention. 

In the Milan collections are many pictures attributed 
to him : a few are in private collections in England : 
Lord Ashburton has an exquisite group of the infant 
Christ and St. John playing with a lamb ; and Lord 
Suffolk has a picture of the Virgin and Child, with the 
little St. John adoring, with a rocky background, cele- 
brated for the perfect execution. f 

But it is the MS. notes and designs left behind him 
that give us the best idea of the indefatigable industry 

* The Falconer at Windsor I believe to be by Holbein, and it ii 
curious that this is not the first nor only Holbein which has been 
attributed to Lionardo. There is one in the Liverpool Institute, 
and at Dresden another — the wonderful portrait of a man with a 
gold medal in his cap. We have an idea of Holbein's style in 
England diametrically opposite to that of Lionardo. 

t The story of this precious picture is one of the romances in 
the history of art. It was stolen from Lord Suffolk's country 
seat in 18^7, and all trace of it lost for many months, during which 
time it was hidden behind cm old cupboard in the House of Lords. 


of dik " mjTud-miiided man," and the almost incredible 
extent of bia aoqniromenta. In the Ambrosian Libraiy 
at IfOan tbere are twelve hnge volnmea of hia works, 
relative to arts, cbemiatrjr, mathematics, tec. ; one of 
them contains a oolleotion of anatomioal dia'vrings, which 
the celebntad anatomiat Dr. Hnnter described as the 
most wondeiM things of the kind for accnrao^ and 
beanty that he had ever beheld. In the Soyal Library 
at Windsor there are three volnmea of MSS. and drawings, 
containing a vast varied of aabjecta — portraits, heads, 
groups, and single figures; fine Anatomical studies of 
horses; a battle of elephants, full of spirit; drawings in 
optics, hydranlica, and porspectivo ; plana of military 
machines, maps and surveys of rivers; beautiful and 
accurate drawings of plants and rocks, to be introduced 
into his pictarcs ; mnsical aira noted in his own hand, 
peihaps his own compositions ; anatomical subjects, with 
elaborate notes and exploitation e. In the Hoyal Library' 
at Paris there is a volume of philosophical troalises, from 
which cxtnu:ls have been published by Vcnturi. In the 
Holkham Collection is a MS. treatise on hydranlicR. The 
* Treatise on Painting,' by Lionardo da Vinci, lias been 
tianalatcd from the original Italian into French, Englibb, 
and German, and is the foundation of all that ha-s uinco 
been written on the subject, whether relating to the 
theory or to the practice of the art His MSS. arc 
particularly difficult to read or decipher, as he had » 
habit of writing from right to left, intitead of from left to 
right. 'What was his reason for this singularity hsH 
not been explained. 
The scholars of Lionardo da Vinci, and those artists 

180 LIONARDO DA VINCI. [Born 1452. 

formed in the academy which he founded in Milan, 
under the patronage of Lndovico il Moro, comprise that 
school of art known as the Milanese or Lombard school. 
They are distinguished by a lengthy and graceful style 
of drawing, a particular amenity and sweetness of ex- 
pression (which in the inferior painters degenerated 
into affectation and a sort of vapid smile), and par- 
ticuhtrly by the transparent lights and shadows — the 
chicaroscuro, of which Lionardo was the inventor or 
discoverer. The most eminent painters were Bernardino 
Luini; Marco Uggione, or D'Oggioni; Antonio Bel- 
trafifio ; Francesco Mclzi ; and Andrea Salai. All these 
studied under the immediate tuition of Lionardo, and 
painted most of the pictures ascribed to him. Gau- 
denzio Ferrari and Cesare da Sosto imitated him, and 
owed their celebrity to his influence. 


( 181 ) 


Born U74; died 1564. 


We have spoken of J^ionardo da Vinci. Michael 
Angelo, the other great luminary of art, was twenty- 
two years younger ; but the more severe and reflective 
cast of his mind rendered their difference of age far less 
ip effect than in reality. It is usual to compare Michael 
Angelo with Raphael, but he is more aptly compared 
with Lionardo da Vinci. All the great artists of that 
time, even Raphael himself, were influenced more or 
less by tliese two extraordinary men, but they exercised 
no influence on each other. They started from opposite 
points ; they pursued throughout their whole existence, 
and in all they planned and achieved, a course as dif- 
ferent as their respective characters. It would be very 
cimous and interesting to carry out the comparison in 
detail ; to show the contrast in organisation, in temper, 
in talent, in taste, which existed between men so highly 
and so equally endowed, but our limits forbid this indul- 
gence. We shall therefore only observe that, considered 
as artists, they emulated each other in variety of power, 
but that Lionardo was more the painter than the sculp- 
tor and architect ; Michael Angelo was more the sculptor 
and architect than the painter. Both sought tnie in- 
spiration in Nature, but they beheld her with different 

182 MICHAEL AKGELO. [Born 1474. 

eyes: Lionardo, who designed admirably, appears to 
have seen no outline in objects, and laboured all his 
life to convey, by colour and light and shade, the 
impression of beauty and the illusive effect of rotundity. 
He preferred the use of oil to fresco, because the mellow 
smoothness and transparency of the vehicle was more 
ca|)able of giving the effects he desired. Michael 
Angolo, on the contrary, turned his whole attention to 
the definition of /orm, and the expression of life and 
power through action and movement ; he regarded the 
illusive effects of painting as meretricious and beneath 
his notice, and despised oil-painting as a style for wo- 
men and children. Considered as men, both Lionardo 
and Michael Angelo were as high-minded and generous 
as they were gifted and origineJ ; but the former was as 
remarkable for his versatile and social accomplishments, 
his lovo of pleasure and habits of expense, as the latter 
for his stem inflexible temper, and his temperate, frugal, 
and secluded habits. 

Michael Angelo Buonarroti was bom at Settignano, 
near Florence, in the year 1474. He was descended 
from a family once noble — even amongst the noblest of 
the feudal lords of northern Italy — the Counts of Ca- 
noKsa ; but that branch of it represented by his £Either, 
Luigi Lionardo Buonarroti Simoni, had for some gene- 
rations become poorer and poorer, until the last de- 
scendant was thankful to accept an office in the law, and 
had been nominated magistrate or mayor (^Podesta) of 
Chiusi. In this situation he had limited his ambition 
to the prospect of seeing his eldest son a notary or 
advocate in his native city. The young Michael Angelo 


ahowed the utmost distaste for the studies allotted to 
him, and was continually escaping from his home and 
from his desk to hannt the ateliers of the painters, par- 
ticularly that of Ghirlandajo, who was then at the 
hei^t of his reputation, and of whom some account has 
heen already given. 

The &iher of Michael Angelo, who found his family 
increase too rapidly for his means, had destined some of 
his sons for commerce (it will he recollected that in 
Genoa and Florence the most powerful nohles were 
merchants or manufacturers), and others for civil or 
diplomatio employments : hut the fine arts, as heiug at 
that time productive of little honour or emolument, he 
held in no esteem, and treated these tastes of bis eldest 
son sometimes with contempt and sometimes even with 
harshness. Michael Angelo, however, had formed Komc 
friendships among the young painters, and particularly 
with Francesco Granacci, one of the best pupils of 
Ghirlandajo ; he contrived to borrow models and draw- 
ings, and studied them in secret with such persevering 
assiduity and consequent improvement that Ghirlan- 
dajo, captivated by his genius, undertook to plead his 
cause to liis father, and at length prevailed over the 
old man's family pride and prejudices. At the age of 
fourteen Michael Angelo was received into the studio of 
Ghirlandajo as a regular pupil, and bound to him for 
three years; and such was the precocious talent of 
the boy, that, instead of being paid for his instruction, 
Ghirlandajo undertook to pay the father, Lionardo 
Buonarroti, for the first, second, and third years, six, 
eight, and twelve golden florins, as payment for the 

184 MICHAEL AKGELO. [Born 1474. 

advantage be expected to derive from the labonr of the son. 
Thus was the vocation of the young artist decided for life. 
At that time Lorenzo the Magnificent reigned over 
Florence. He had formed in his palace and gardens a 
collection of antique marbles, busts, statues, fragments, 
which he had converted into an academy for the use of 
young artists, placing at the head of it as director a 
sculptor of some eminence named Bertoldo. Michael 
Angclo was one of the first who, through the recom- 
mendation of Ghirlandajo, was received into this new 
academy, afterwards so famous and so memorable in the 
history of art. The young man, then not quite sixteen, 
had hitherto occupied himself chiefly in drawing; but 
now, fired by the beauties ho beheld around him, and 
by the example and success of a fellow-pupil, Torre- 
giano, ho set himself to model in clay, and at length 
to copy in marble what was before him ; but, as was 
natural in a character and genius so steeped in indivi- 
duality, his copies became not so much imitations of 
form as original embodyings of the leading idea. For 
example : his first attempt in marble, when he was 
about fifteen, was a copy of an antique mask of an old 
laughing Faun : he treated this in a manner so different 
from the original and so spirited as to excite the asto- 
nishment of liOrenzo de' Medici, who criticised it, how- 
ever, slaying, ** Thou shouldst have remembered that 
old folks do not retain all their teeth ; some of them are 
always wanting." The boy struck the teeth out, giving 
it at once the most grotesque expression ; and Lorenzo, 
infinitely amused, sent for his father and offered to 
attach his son to his own particular service, and to 


undertake the entire care of his education. The fitther 
consented, on condition of receiving for himself an office 
under the government, and thenceforth H^Iichael Angelo 
was lodged in the palace of the Medici and treated hy 
Lorenzo as his son.* 

Such sndden and increasing favour excited the envy 
and jecdousy of his companions, particularly of Torre- 
giano, who, being of a violent and arrogant temper 
(that of Michael Angelo was by no. means conciliating), 
sought every means of showing his hatred. On one 
occasion a quarrel having ensued while they were at 
work together, Torregiano turned in furj' and struck his 
rival a blow with his mallet, which disfigured him for 
life. His nose was flattened to his face, and Torregiano, 
having by this " sacrilegious stroke " gratified his 
hatred, was banished from Florence. 

It is fair, however, to give Torrcgiano's own account 
of this incident as he related it to Benvenuto Cellini 
many years afterwards. — ** This Buonarroti and I, when 
we were young men, went to study in the church of the 
Carmelites, in the chapel of Masaccio : it was customary 
with Buonarroti to rally those who were learning to 
draw there. One day, among otliers, a sarcasm of his 
having stung me to the quick, I was extremely irritated, 
and, doubling my fist, gave him such a violent blow on 
the nose that 1 felt the bone and cartilage yield as if 

* This mask, which is really admirable in its way, is now in the 
Florentine Gallery, where it hangs in the Giibinetto del Ennnfi-odito, 
over the unfinished bust of Brutus, a later and celebrated work of 
the same Michael Angelo : the manner in which the teeth had been 
struck from the juw of the old Faun I certified myself by a close 
examination of the mask in the winter of 1858. 


they had been made of paste, and the mark I then gave 
him he will carry to his grave." 

Thus it appears that the blow was not unprovoked, 
and that Michael Angelo, even at the age of sixteen, 
indulged in that contemptuous arrogance and sarcastic 
speech which, in his maturer age, made him so many 
enemies. But to return. 

Michael Angelo continued his studies under the 
auspices of Lorenzo; but just as he had reached bis 
eighteenth year ho lost his generous patron, his second 
father, and was thenceforth thrown on his own resources. 
It is true that the son of Lorenzo, Piero do' Medici, con- 
tinued to extend his favour to the young artist, but with 
80 little comprehension of his genius and character, that 
on one occasiun, during the severe winter of 1494, he 
set him to form a statue of snow for the amusement of 
his guests. 

Michael Angelo, while he yielded, perforce, to the 
caprices of his protector, turned the energies of his mind 
to a new study — that of anatomy — and pursued it with 
all that fervour which belonged to his character. His 
attention was at the same time directed to literature, by 
the counsels and conversations of a very celebrated 
scholar and poet, then residing in the court of Piero— 
Angelo Poliziano; and ho pursued at the same time 
the cultivation of his mind and the practice of his art. 
Engrossed by his own studies, he was scarcely aware of 
what was passing around him, nor of the popular in- 
trigues which were preparing the ruin of the Medici; 
suddenly this powerful family were flung from sove- 
reignty to temporary disgrace and exile ; and Michael 


Died 1564.] VISITS BOME. 187 

AngelOy as one of their retainen, was obliged to 
fly from Florenoe, and took refoge in the city of 
Bok^^na. Dazing the year he spent there he found a 
friend, who employed him on some works of sculpture ; 
and on his return to Florence he executed a Cupid in 
marble, of such beauiy that it found its way into the 
cabinet of the Duchess of Mantua * as a real antique. 
On the discovery that the author of this beautiful statue 
a young man of two-and-twenty, the Cardinal San 
invited him to Borne, and for some time lodged 
him in his palace. Here Michael Angelo, surrounded 
and inspired by the grand remains of antiquity, pursued 
his studies with unceasing energy : he produced a statue 
of Bacchus, which added to his reputation; and in 
1500, at the age of five-and-twcnty, he produced the 
famous group of the dead Christ on the knees of his 
Virgin Mother (called the Pieta), which is now in the 
church of St. Peter*s at Eome ; f this last, being fre- 

* Isabella d'Este, Marchesana of Mantua, was not only the first 
woman, but the first European sovereign, who made a collection of 
beautiful objects of art, including gems, antiques, pictures, sculpture, 
and curiosities of every kind. 

t This Pietii is the only work whereon Michael Angelo inscribed 
his name. The circumstance which induced him to do this is 
curious. Some time after the group was fixed in its place, he was 
standing before it considering its efifect, when two strangers entered 
the church, and began, even in his hearing, to dispute concerning 
the author of the work, which they agreed in exalting to the skies 
as a masterpiece. One of them, who was a Bolognese, insisted that 
it was by a sculptor of Bologna, whom he named. Michael Angelo 
listened in silence, and the next night, when all slept, he entered 
the church, and by the light of a lantern engraved his name, in 
deep indelible characters, where it might best be seen — on the band 
which confines the drapery of the Virgin. There is a fine cast in 
tha Crystal Palace. 

188 MICHAEL ANGELO. [Born 1474. 

qnently copied and imitated, obtained him so mncli 
applause and reputation, that he was recalled to Flo- 
rence, to undertake several public works, and we find 
him once more established in his native city in the year 

Hitherto we have seen Michael Angelo wholly de- 
voted to the study and practice of sculpture ; but soon 
after his return to Florence he was called upon to com- 
pete with Lionardo da Vinci in executing the cartoons 
for the frescoes with which it was intended to decorate 
the walls of the Palazzo Vecchio, or town-hall, of 
Florence (1.504). The cartoon of Lionardo has been 
already doKcribod : that of Michael Angelo represented 
an incident which occurred during the siege of Pisa — a 
group of Florentine soldiers bathing in the Amo hear 
the trumpet which proclaims a sortie of the enemy, and 
spring at once to the combat. He chose this subject 
perhai)8 as affording ample oj^portunity to exhibit his 
peculiar and wcmderful skill in designing the human 
figure. All is life and movement. The warriors, some 
already clothed, but the greater part undressed, hasten 
to obey the call to battle ; they are seen clambering up 
the banks — buckling on their armour — rushing forward, 
hurriedly, eagerly. There are, altogether, about thirty 
figures, the size of life, draii^Ti with black chalk, and 
relieved with white. This cartoon was regarded by his 
contemporarily as the most perfect of his works; that 
is, in respect to the execution merely : as to subject, 
sentiment, and character, it would not certainly rank 
with the finest of his works ; for, with every possible 
variety of gesture and attitude, exhibited with admirable 


and lifelike energy and tihe most oonmimniate know- 
ledge of fonn, there was only one expression tlironghont, 
and that the least intellectaal, majestic, or interesting — 
the expression of hurry and surprise. While this great 
work existed, it was a study for all the young artists of 
Italy ; bat Michael Angelo, who had- suffered in penon 
from the jealousy of one rival, was destined to suffer yet 
more cruelly from the envy of another. It is said that 
Bandinelli, the sculptor, profited by the troubles of 
Florence to tear in pieces this monument of the ^ory 
and genius of a man he detested ; but in doing so he has 
only left an enduring stain upon his own &me. A small 
old copy of tho principal part of the composition exists 
in the collection of the Earl of Leicester, at Holkham, 
and has been finely engraved by Schiavonetti. 

In 1506 Michael Angelo was summoned to Home by 
Pope Julius XL, who, while living, had conceived the 
idea of erecting a most splendid monument to perpetuate 
his memory. For this work, which was never completed, 
Michael Angelo executed the famous statue of Moses, 
seated, grasping his flowing beard with one hand, and 
with the other sustaining the tables of the Law.* While 
employed on this tomb, the pope commanded him to 
undertake also tho decoration of the ceiling of the Sistine 

* Now in S. Pietro in Vincula, at Kome. Other fragments of the 
design for this Bumptiioun tomb are a group representing a warrior 
OTercoming another, called La Vittoria, and now placed in the great 
hall of the Palazzo Vecchio ; six unfinished statues of prisoners 
or slaves, representing the provinces subjected by Julius II. ; 
two now in the Louvre (of the finest there is a cast in the Crystal 
Palace) ; and four others preserved in the Boboli Gardens at 

190 MICHAEL ANGELO. [BoBH 1474. 

CbapeL TI16 reader may remember that Pope 
IV., in the year 1473, erected his fiunona ohapel, and 
summoned the best painters of that time, SignoreUi, 
Cosimo Boselli, Pemgino, and Ghirlandajo, to decorate 
the interior : bnt down to the year 1508 the ceiling re- 
mained without any ornament ; and Michael Angelo was 
called npon to cover this enormous vault, a space of (me 
hundred and fifty feet in length by fifty in breadth, with 
a series of subjects representing the most important 
events connected, either literally or typically, with the 
fJEdl and redemption of mankind. 

No part of Michael Angelo's long life is so interesting, 
so full of characteristic incident, as the history of his 
intercourse with Pope Julius II., which began in 1505, 
and ended only with the death of the pope in 1513. 

Michael Angelo had at all times a lofty idea of his 
own dignity as an artist, and never would stoop either 
to flatter a patron or to conciliate a rival. Julius IL, 
though now seventy-four, was as impatient of contra- 
diction, as fiery in temper, as full of magnificent and 
ambitious projects, as if ho had been in the prime of 
life ; in his service was the famous architect Bramante, 
who beheld with jealousy and alarm the increasing 
fame of Michael Angelo, and his influence with the 
pontiff, and set himself by indirect means to lessen botL 
He insinuated to Julius that it was ominous to erect his 
own mausoleum during his lifetime, and the pope gra- 
dually fell ofl* in his attentions to Michael Angelo, and 
neglected to supply him with the necessary funds for 
carrying on the work. On one occasion Michael Angelo, 
finding it difficult to obtain access to the pope, sent a 


meMige to liim to thia effect, " that henceforth, if his 
hoKnem denied to see him, he should send to seek him 
elsewhere;" and the same night, leaying orders with 
his servants to dispose of his property, he departed for 
ilorenoe. Hie pope despatched 1^ couriers after him 
with threats, persuasions, promises — but in Tain. He 
wrote to the GhmfisJoniere Soderini, then at the head of 
the govemment of Florence, commanding him, on pain 
of his extreme displessure, to send Michael Angelo 
back to him; but the inflexible artist absolutely re- 
fused: three months were spent in vain negotiations. 
Soderini, at length, fearing the pope*s anger, prevailed 
on Michael Angelo to return, and sent with him- his 
relation Cardinal Soderini to make up the quarrel be- 
tween the high contending powers. The pope was then 
at Bologna, and at the moment when Michael Angolo 
arrived he was at supper ; he desired him to be brought 
into his presence, and on seeing him exclaimed in a 
transport of fury, "Instead of obeying our commands 
and coming to us, thou luist waited till we came in 
search of thee ! " (Bologna being much nearer to Florence 
than to Bome). Michael Angelo fell on his knees, and 
entreated pardon with a loud voice. "Holy father," 
said he, " my offence has not arisen from an evil nature ; 
I could no longer endure the insults offered to mo in 
the palace of your holiness ! " He remained kneeling, 
and the pope continued to bond his brows in silence ; 
when a certain bishop, in attendance on the Cardinal 
Soderini, tliinViTig to mend the matter, interfered with 
excuses, representing that " Michael Angelo — poor 
man ! — had erred through ignorance ; that artists were 

192 MICHAEL ANGELO. [Bonn 1474. 

wont to presume too mnoh on their geniuB," and so 
forth. The irascible pope, interrupting him with a 
sharp blow across the shoulders with his staff, exclaimed, 
" It is thou that art ignorant and presuming, to insalt 
him whom we feel ourselves bound to honour; take 
thyself out of our sight ! " And as the terrified prelate 
stood transfixed with amazement, the pope's attendants 
forced him out of the room. Julius then, turning to 
Michael Angelo, gave him his forgiveness and his 
blessing, and commanded him never again to leave 
him, promising him on all occasions his favour and 
protection. This extraordinary scene took place in 
November, 1500. It was some time after this (about 
1512) that Julius II., in speaking of Michael Angelo to 
Sebastian del IHombo, again showed, in the midst of his 
anger, his entire appreciation of the man and the artist 
**Look," he said, ** at the work of Raphael! (the 
fresco of the Ileliodorus). He no sooner saw the work 
of Michael Angelo (the ceiling of the Sistine) than he 
threw aside the manner of Penigino and tried to imi- 
tate that of Michael Angelo, who is, notwithstanding 
(here he burst into a rage), a tenHble fellow ! There is 
no getting on with him ! " 

The work on the tomb was not, however, immediately 
resumed. Michael Angelo was commanded to execute 
a colossal statue of the pope to be erected in front of 
the principal church of Bologna. He threw into the 
figure and attitude so much of the haughty and resolute 
character of the original, that Julius, on seeing the 
model, asked him, with a smile, whether he intended to 
represent him as blessing or as cursing? To which 

Died 1564.] STATUE OF JUUUS II. 193 

Michael Angolo prudentl; replied, tLat ho intended to 
represent hia holiueM as admouiiihing the inhabitants of 
Bologna to obedience and salnuission. " And what," 
■aid the pope, veil pleased, " wilt thou put in the other 
hand ? " "A book, may it pleaae your holiness." " A 
book, man [ " exclaimed the pope, " put rather a sword ; 
thon knoweat I am no scholar." The fate of this statne, 
however we may lament it, was fitting and charactcriBtic : 
a few yean afterwards, in 1511, the populace of Bologna 
rebelled against the popedom, fiang down the statue of 
Julius, and out of the fragments was constmcted a 
Gannon, which from its origin was styled La Ginliana. 

On hia return to Komc, 3Iiclmel Angelo wished to 
have resumed hio work on tlic mnitsolcum ; but tlie 
pope had rcsolTcd on tho com]>letiou of the Sistiue 
Chapel : he commanded Michael Angelo ^' ,| iinilcrtiiltn 
the decoratio n of the vaulte d ''■■'^'"g; "itl *bo artiiil-, 
<raB ~obliged, though reluctantly, to obey . At this time 
the frescoes whith Rnphaul and his pupils were jmiuting 
in the chambers of the Vatican had excited the adniink- 
tion of all Rome. Mich ael Angelo, who hiid nuver 
exercised himself in the mechanical part o? tTio art oT 
fresco. i nTited from Florence Bcvcrjtl piun|i>rn nf emi- 
nence, to ex ecute his de nif Tifl "m lrr '''° ""•" ""[■"""n.- 
tendencc ; but they could not reach the grandeui" of hie 
TOndfiprtRns, which beciunc enfeebled under their handa, 
and one morning, in a mood of impatience, ho dcsti'oyud 
all that they had dune, closed the doors of the chapel 
against them, and would nut thenceforth admit them to 
hi» presence. He then shut himijclf up, and proceeded 
with incredible peruevcrance and tnergj' to accomplish 


Suall. he made tlici 6ptircii !■ '» niin^yrona and 
to pro dnco the ir full effect from imlnw, t^ fau^l^ |f]y 
ho corroctod in thoae eneeiited siilwciinrutly- ^Im 
almost half the work was completed, ihn jx'iw iiuUtd 
nil vi<;wing whut was done, and the uetoiiishmi-nl ind 
udmiratiitn it excited rendered him more and moiv 
eager to have the wholi^ compluU-d at once. The ]ir»- 
gtTBH, however, was uot rapid etiougb ta suit the iiDpi> 
tieiit temper <if iho ponUff. On one ucciuivin hu il^ 
muuded of the arliat when he meant lo finiJi ft; to 
which Miohaol Augelo replied calmly, " When I an." 
" ^MlQIl thou canst I" exclaimed the fierj old pqw: 
" thou hast a miud that 1 uhould have thi>e thrown trna 
the Kcan'old I " At length, on the day of All SoinU, 
1 SI 2, the wiling WH6 uncovered to public view, Michid 
Angolo had employed wi the painting only, vrithmil 
rwkoning the time spent in preparing the cartww, 
twoHl^wo months, and ho received in payment thm 
thousand cniv-aa. 

To describu this grand work in all its details would 
occupy many pages. It will give some idea of its im- 
meneity to say that it contains in all upwarda uf tiro 
hundred figures, the greater pailjt£j ttLiaBal aw: »oi 
that, with regard to invention, grandeur, and expre»iim, 
it has been a school for study, and a theme for wonder, 
during three successive ages. In the cent»« of the 
coiling are four large compartments and five small ohm. 






In the former are represented the Creation of the Snn 
and Moon; the Creation of Adun, perhaps the most 
majestio design that was ever oonceived by the genius 
of man ; the Fall and the Expulsion from Paradise ; the 
Deluge. In the five small compartments are represented 
the Gathering of the Waters {Gm, i. 9) ; the Almighty 
separating Light from Darkness ; the Creation of Eve ; 
the Sacrifice of Noah ; and Noah^s Vineyard : around 
these, in the curved part of the ceiling, are the Prophets 
and the Sibyls who foretold the birth of Christ. These 
are among the most wonderful forms that modem art 
has called into life. They are all seated and employed 
in contemplating books or antique rolls of manuscript, 
with genii in attendance. These mighty beings sit 
before us, looking down with solemn meditative aspects, 
or upward]^ with ins^iired looks that see into futurity. 
All their forms arc massive and sublime, all are full of 
varied and individual character. 

Beneath these again is a series of groups representing 
the earthly genealogy of Christ, in which the figures 
have a repose, a contemplative grace and tendeniessy 
which place them among the most interesting of all the 
productions of Michael Angelo. These and the figure 
of Eve in the Fall show how intense was his feeling of 
beauty, though he frequently disdained to avail himself 
of it. In the four comers of the ceiling are representa- 
tions of the miraculous deliverance of Hie people of 
Israel, in allusion to the general Redemption of man by 
the Saviour, viz. Holofemcs vanquished by Judith, 
David overcoming Goliath, the Brazen Serpent, and the 
Punishment of Haman. 

K 2 

J 96 MICHAEL ANGELO. [Born U74. 

There is a small print in Kugler*s Handbook which 
will give a general idea of the arrangement of this 
famous ceiling : there is one on a large scale by Piroli, 
€tnd a still larger one by Cunego, which, if accessible, 
will answer the purpose better. In our National School 
of Design there is an admirable coloured drawing lately 
brought from Rome by Mr. L. Gruner, which will con- 
vey a very correct idea not merely of the arrangement 
of the subjects and figures, but of the harmonious dis- 
position of the colours —a merit not usually allowed to 
Michael Angelo. This has been published in colours 
at the expense of Mr. Ilolford of Blaise Castle, the 
author of a Life of Michael Angelo. 

The collection of engravings after Michael Angelo in 
the British Museimi is very imperfect, but it contains 
some fine old prints from tlie Prophets which should be 
studied by those who wish to understand the true merit 
of this great master, of whom Sir Joshua Eeynolds said 
that ** to kiss the hem of his garment, to catch the 
slightest of his perfections, would be glory and distinc- 
tion enough for an ambitious man ! " 

AVhen the Sistine Chapel was completed Michael 
Angelo was in his thirty- ninth year; fifty years of 
a glorious though troubled career were still before 

Pope Julius II. died in 1513, and was succeeded by 
Leo X., the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent. As a 
Florentine and his father's son, we might naturally have 
expected that he would have gloried in patronising and 
employing Michael Angelo ; but such was not the case. 
There was something in the stem, unbending character. 

Died 1564v] RIYALRT WITH RAPHAEL. 197 

and retired and abstemioiiB babitB of Michael Angelo, 
repuIsiTo to the temper of Leo, who preferred the 
graoefnl and amiable Baphael, then in the prime of his 
life and genina : hence arose the memorable rivalry be- 
tween Michael Angelo and Baphael, which on the part 
of the latter was merely generous emulation, while it 
must be confessed that something like scorn mingled 
with the feelings of Michael Angelo. The pontificate 
of Leo X., an interval of ten years, was the least pro- 
ductive period of his life. In the year 1519, when the 
Signoria of Florence was negociating with Bavenna for 
the restoration of the remains of Dante, he petitioned 
the pope tliat ho might be allowed to execute at hiw 
own labour and expense a monument to the ** Divink 
Poet." In the same year (he was then at Florence) 
Sebastian del Piombo writes to him concerning the 
success of his great picture, the Baising of Lazarus, now 
in our National Gallery. Michael Angelo had been sent 
to Florence to superintend the building of the church 
of San Lorenzo and the completion of Santa C'roce ; but 
he differed with the pope on the choice of the marble, 
quarrelled with the officials, and scarcely anything was 
accomplished. Clement YIL, another Medici, was 
elected pope in 1523. He was the son of that Giu- 
liano de' Medici who was assassinated by the Pazzi in 
1478. He had conceived the idea of consecrating a 
chapel in the church of San Lorenzo, to receive tho 
tombs of his ancestors and relations, and which should 
be adorned with all the splendour of ai*t. Michael 
Angelo planned and built the chapel, and for its in- 
terior decoration designed and executed six of his 

198 MICHAEL ANGELO. [BoRX 1474. 

greatoBt works in sculpture. There are casts of tliese 
likewise in the Crystal Palace, in the Italian Court 
Two are seated statues : one representing Lorenzo de' 
Medici, Duke of Urbino, who died young, in 1519, 
living only to be the fiather of Catherine de' Medici 
(and, as it has been well said, '* had an evil spirit as- 
sumed the human shape to propagate mischief, he could 
not have done worse ") ; the other, opposite, his cousin 
Giuliano de' Medici, who was as weak as Lorenzo was 
vicious. The other four are colossal recumbent figures, 
entitled the Night, the Morning, the Dawn, and the 
Twilight ; though why so called, and why these figures 
wore introduced in such a situation — what was the in- 
tention, the meaning of the artist — ^does not seem to be 
understood by any of the critics on art who have written 
on the subject. The statue of Lorenzo is almost awful in 
its sullen grandeur. He looks down in a contemplative 
attitude ; hence the appellation by which the figure is 
known iu Italy — II Pcnsiero (Thought or Meditation), 
But there is mischief in the look— something vague, 
ominous — difficult to be described. Altogether it well 
nigh realizes our idea of Milton's Satan brooding over 
his infernal plans for the ruin of mankind. Mr. Kogers 
styles it truly ** the most real and unreal thing that ever 
came from the chisel." And his description of the whole 
chapel is as vivid as poetry, and as accurate as tnith, 
could make it : — 

" Nor then forget that chamber of the dead 
Where the gigantic shades of Night aud Day, 
Tiim*d iuto stoue, rest everlastingly. 

There from age to age 
Two ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres. 


That u the Duke LoBXRSO. Mark him well I 

He meditates ; hia head upoo hia hand. 

What from beneath hia helm-like bonnet acowla? 

la it a &ce, or but an eyeleaa akull f 

*TiB lost in ahade— yet^ like the bamliwki 

It Sudnatea and is intolerable.** * 

AVhile Michael Angelo was engaged in these works 
his progess was intermpted by events which threw all 
Italy into commotion. Bome was taken and sacked by 
the Constable de Bourbon in 1527. The Medici were 
once more expelled from Florence ; and Michael Angelo, 
in the midst of these strange vicissitudes, was employed 
by the republic to fortify his native city against his 
former patrons. Great as an engineer, as in every other 
department of art and science, he defended Florence for 
nine months. At length the city was given up by 
treachery, and, fearing the vengeance of the conquerors, 
Michael Angelo fled and concealed himself; but Cle- 
ment ATlI. was too sensible of his merit to allow him to 
remain long in disgrace and exile. Uo was pardoned, 
and continued ever afterwards in high favour with the 
pope, Avho employed him on the sculptures iu the 
chapel of San Lorenzo during the remainder of his pon- 

In the year 1531 he had completed the statues of 
Night and Morning, and Clement, who heard of his 
incessant labours, sent him a biief, commanding him, 
on pain of excommunication, to take care of his health, and 

* Mr. Rogers possessed the small sketch or model (Michael 
Angclo's first thought) for this wonderful figure. It used to stand 
on a pedestal in the corner of his breakfust-room, looking ominous. 
At the sale of his collection it was sold for 211. I know not who is 
DOW the fortunate possessor. 

200 MICHAEL ANGELO. [BoRS 1474. 

not to accept of any other work but that which hifi 
holiness had assigned him. 

Clement VII. was sncceeded by Pope Paul III., of the 
Famese family, in 1534. This pope, though nearly 
seventy when he was elected, was as anxious to im- 
mortalize his name by great undertakings as any of his 
predecessors had been before him. His first wish was 
to complete the decoration of the interior of the Sistine 
Chapel, left imfinished by Jidius II. €uid Leo X. He 
summoned Michael Angelo, who endeavoured to excuse 
himself, pleading other engagements ; but the pope 
would listen to no excuses which interfered with his 
sovereign power to dissolve all other obligations ; and 
thus the artist found himself, after an interval of twenty 
yeai*s, most reluctantly forced to abandon sculpture for 
painting; and, as Vasari expresses it, he consented to 
serve Pope Paul only because he coidd not do otherwise. 

In representing the Last Judgment on the wall of the 
upper end of the Sistine Chapel, Michael Angelo only 
adhered to the original plan as it had been adopted by 
Julius II., and afterwards by Clement YII. 

In the centre of this vast composition he has placed 
the figure of the Messiah in the act of pronouncing the 
sentence of condemnation, ** Depart from me, ye ac- 
cursed, into everlasting fire ;" and by his side the Virgin 
Mary : around them, on each side, the apostles, the 
patriarchs, the prophets, and a company of saints and 
martyi*s : above these are groups of angels bearing the 
cross, the crown of thonis, and other instruments of the 
passion of our Lord ; and farther down another group 

I>|(.It toSt.] 


cf «ngels holding the Ih)o1c of lifo, and souuding th»l 
tkwfiil tninipota which call up the dead to judgim 
lk-U>w, on one side, the resurrection aud ascont of tbof-^ 
blc«aed ; anil on the odior. demons drag down the oon- 
deimiod to everlasting fii-e. The auQiber of fin^res is 
al IcAst two hundied. Tliose who wish to form a correct 
idea of thi.* composition and arrangement should consult 
the engravlngfi ; several of difFei-ent sizes and different 
degrwes of exooUenco are in the British ^tnseum. 

Thore can he no doubt that Miehael Angelo'a Last 
Juilgmetit itt the greatest effort of human skill, as a 
orcAtioti of art ; yet is it full of faults in taste and 
mntimcnt : and the greatest fault of all la in the concep- 1 
tion of the principal personage, the Messiah as judgaJ^ 
The figure, expression, attitude, are all unworthy- 
might almost say vidgar in the worst sense ; for is there- \ 
not both profaneness and ^nilgarity in representing thft I 
merciful Redeemer of mankind, even when he " 
tu jtwlgment," as inspired merely by wrath and ven-^ 
geance ? — a« a thick-set athlete, who, with a gesture c 
sullen anger, is about to punish the wiched with \aa~\ 
fi^t? It has been already observed that Michael Angelo 
borrowed the idea of the two figures of the Virgin and 
Christ from the old fresco of Orcagna in the Campo 
I in improviug the drawing he has wholly los 

3 degraded the sentiment. In the groups of the paT'l 
„ as Kuglor haa well observed, we look in 
fertile glory of heaven — for beings bearing the stamp a 

e holiness ami renunciation of human weakness ^^ 

rerywbere we lueel with the expression of hum 

202 MICHAEL ANGELO. [Boiw U74. 

passion, human efforts ; we see no choir of solemn tran- 
quil forms — no harmonious unity of clear grand lines 
produced by ideal draperies ; but in their stead a con- 
fused crowd of naked bodies in violent attitudes, unac- 
companied by any of the characteristics made sacred by 
holy tradition." On the other hand, the groups of the 
condemned, and the astonishing energy and variety of 
the struggling and suspended forms, are most fearfid: 
and it is quite true that when contemplated from a 
distance the whole representation fills the mind with 
wonder and mysterious horror. It was intended to 
represent the defeat and fall of the rebel angels on the 
opposite wall (above and on each side of the principal 
door), but this was never done ; and the intention of 
Michael Angelo in the decoration of the Sistine Chapel 
remains incomplete. The picture of the Last Judg- 
ment was finished and first exhibited lu the people on 
Christmas-day, 1451, under the pontificate of Paul III. 
Michael Angelo was then in his sixty-seventh year, and 
had been employed on the painting and cartoons nearly 
nine years. 

The same Pope Paul III. had in the mean time con- 
structed a beautiful chapel, which was called after his 
name the chapel Padina, and dedicated to St. Peter and 
St. Paul. Michael Angelo was called upon to design the 
decorations. He painted on one side the Conversion of 
St. Paul, and on the other the Crucifixion of St. Peter, 
which were completed in 1549. But these fine paintings 
—of which existing old engravings (to be found in the 
British Museum) give a better idea than the blackened 

Died 1564.] ARCHITECT OF ST. PETER'S. 203 

and faded remainB of the origixial firescoes — were from 
the first ill-diflpoeed as to the localit}% and badly lighted, 
and at present they excite little interest compared with 
the more famous works in the Sistine. 

During the period that Michael Angelo was engaged 
in the decoration of the Panline Chapel, he executed a 
group in marble — the Virgin with the dead Sedeemer 
and two other figures — ^which was never completely 
finished. It is now at Florence, behind the high altar 
of the Cathedral. It is full of tragic grandeur and 

With the frescoes in the Pauline Chapel ends Michael 
Angelo's career as a painter. He had been appointed 
chief architect of St. Peter's in 1547 by Paul III. Ho 
was then in his seventy-second year ; and during the re- 
mainder of his life, a period of sixteen years, wo find him 
wholly devoted to arcliitccture. His vast and daring 
genius finding ample scope in the completion of St. 
Peter's, he has left behind him in his capacity of arcliitect 
yet greater marvels than he had achieved as painter and 
sculptor. AVho that has seen the cupola of St. Peter's 
soaring into the skies, but will think almost with awe 

* An eyewitness Las left us a Tery graphic description of the 
energy with which, even in old age, Michael Angelo handled his 
chisel : — ** I can say that I have seen Michael Angelo at the age of 
sixty, and with a body announcing weakness, make more chi^M of 
marble fly about in a quarter of an hour than would three of the 
strongest young sculptors in an hour,— a thing almost incredible to 
him who has not beheld it. He went to work with such impetuosity 
and fury of manner that I feared almost every moment to sec the 
block split into pieces. It would seem as if, inflamed by tlie idea 
of greatness which inspired him, this great man attacked with a 
species of fury the marble which concealed the statue.** — Liaise de 
\ 'ijenere. 

204 MICHAEL AXGELO. [BoRX 1474. 

of the univerBal and majestio intellect of the man who 
reared it ? 

There is a striking anecdote of Mi-s. Siddons, which at 
this moment comes back npon the mind. When standing 
before the Apollo Belvedere, then in the gallery of the 
Louvre, she exclaimed, after a long pause, ** How great 
must be the Being who created the genius which pro- 
duced such a form as this ! " — a thought characteristic 
of her mind, but more fitly inspired by the works of 
Michael Angelo tlian by those of any artist the world 
has 3'et seen. They bear impressed u]X)n them a cha- 
racter of greatness, of durability, of sublimity of inven- 
tion and consummate skill in contrivance, which fills 
tlie contemplative mind, and leads it irresistibly from 
the created up to the Creator. 

As our subject is painting, not arcliitccture, we sliall 
not dwell much on this period of the life of Michael 
Angelo. He filled the oflSco of chief architect of St. 
Peter's through the pontificates of Julius III., Pius IV., 
and Pius V. He accepted the oflSce vnih reluctance, plead- 
ing his great age and the obstacles and diflSculties he was 
likely to meet with from the jealousies and inti-igues of 
his rivals and the ignorance and intermeddling of the 
pope's officials. He solemnly called Heaven to witness 
that it was only from a deep sense of duty that he 
yielded to the pope's wishes ; and he proved that this 
was no empty profession by constantly refusing any 
salary or remuneration. Notwithstanding the diffi- 
culties he encoimtered, the provocations and the dis- 
gusts most intolerable to his haughty and impatient 
spirit, he held on his way with a stem perseverance 


till he had seen his great designs so far carried out that 
they could not be wholly abandoned or perverted by his 

When his sovereign the Grand Duke of Florence 
endeavoured, by the most munificent offers and pro- 
mises, to attract him to his court, he constantly pleaded 
that to leave his great work unaccomplished would be 
on his part *' a s//t, a shames and the ruin of the greatest 
religious monument in Christian Europe." Michael 
Angelo considered that he was engaged in a work of 
piety, and for tliis reason, '* for his o\%'n honour and the 
honour of (jod," he refused all emolument. 

It api-wars, from the evidence of contemporary wi-iters, 
tliat in the last years of his life the acknowledged worth 
and genius of Michael Angelo, his wide-spread fume, 
and hi8 imblemished integi'ity, combined with his 
venerable age and the haughtiness and reserve of liis 
deportment to invest him with a sort of princely dig- 
nity. It is recorded that, when he waited on pope 
Julius III. to receive his commands, the pontiff rose 
on his approach, seated him, in spite of his excuses, 
on his right hand ; and while a crowd of cardinals, pre- 
lates, ambassadora, were standing round at humble dis- 
tance, carried on the conference, as equal with equal. 
^\Tien the Gi-and Duke Cosmo was in liome in 15G0 he 
visited Michael Angelo, uncovered in his presence, and 
stood with his hat in his hand while speaking to him ; 
but from the time when he made himself the tyrant of 

• This, however, applies only to the stupendous dome : his de- 
sign for the fa9ado, and even the original form of the church, having 
been subsequently altered and spoiled. 

206 MICHAEL AXGELO. [Bobs 1474. 

Florence he never conld persuade Michael Angelo to 
visit, even for a day, hia native cit}'. 

One of the most beautiftd anecdotes recorded of 
Michael Angelo in his later years, €tnd one of the very 
few amiable traits in his character, was his strong and 
generous attachment to his old servctnt Urbino. One 
day, as Urbino stood by him while he worked, he said to 
him, ** My poor Urbino I what wilt thou do when I am 
gone ? " ** Alas !" replied Urbino, " I must then seek 
another master !" ** No," replied Michael Angelo, " that 
shall never be ! " and he immediately presented him 
with two thousand crowns, thus rendering him inde- 
pendent of himself and others. Urbino, however, con- 
tinued in his service, and, when seized with his last ill- 
ness, Michael Angelo, tlie stem, the sarcastic, the over- 
bearing Michael Angelo, nursed him with the tenderness 
and patience of a mother, sleeping in his clothes on 
a couch tliat ho might be ever near him. The old man 
died at last, leaving his master almost inconsolable. 
*' My Urbino is dead/' he wTites to Vasari, ** to my 
infinite grief and sorrow. Living, he served me truly, 
and in his death he taught mo how to die. I liave now 
no other hope than to rejoin him in Paradise !" 

The arrogance imputed to Michael Angelo seems 
rather to have arisen from a contempt for others than 
from any overweening opinion of himself. He was too 
proud to be vain. He had placed his standard of per- 
fection so high, that to the latest hour of his life he con- 
sidered himself as striving after that ideal excellence 
which had been revealed to him, but to which he con- 
ceived that others were blind or indifferent. In allusion to 

Died 1564.] HIS TOMB. 207 

his own imperfeotions, he made a drawing, since become 
Cimions, which represents an aged man in a go-cart, and 
underneath the words "Ancora impara "('* still learning "). 

He continued to labour unremittingly, and with the 
same resolute energy of mind and purpose, till the gra- 
dual decay of his strength warned him of his approach- 
ing end. He did not suffer from any particular malady, 
and his mind was strong and clear to the last. He died 
at Home, on the 18th of February, 1564, in the eighty- 
eighth year of his age. A few days before his death he 
dictated his will in these few simple words: "I be- 
queath my soul to God, my body to the earth, and my 
pos8e.s«$ioD8 to my nearest relations." His nephew, 
Lionardo Buonarroti, who was his principal heir, by the 
orders of the Grand Duke Cosmo had his remains secretly 
conveyed out of Bome and brought to Florence ; they 
were with due honours deposited in the church of Santa 
Croce, under a costly monument, on which we may see 
his noble bust surrounded by three verj- commonplace 
and ill-executed statues representing the arts in which 
he excelled — Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture. 
They might have added Poeti'y ; for Michael Augelo was 
80 fine a poet that his productions would have given 
him fame, tliough he had never peopled tlie Sisline with 
his giant creations, nor ** suspended the Pantheon in the 
aw-."* The object to whom his poems are chiefly ad- 

* Tlie dome of the Pantheon, which appears self-BUBtained, had, 
from the time of Augustus Cicsar, attracted the wonder and admi- 
ration of all beholders, as a marrel of scientific architecture. Michael 
Angelo said, on some occasion, '* I will take the Pantheon and sus- 
pend it in the air ;*' and he did so. 


dreased, Vittoria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara, was 
tlie widow of the celebrated commander who overcame 
Francis I. at the battle of Pavia ; herself a poetess, and 
one of the most celebrated women of her time for beauty, 
talents, virtue, and piety. She died in 1547. Several 
of Michael Angelo's sonnets have been translated by 
Wordsworth, and a selection of his poems, with a very 
learned and eloquent introduction, has been published 
by Mr. John Edward Taylor, in a little volume entitled 
' Michael Angelo a Poet.' 

It must be borne in recollection that the pictures 
ascribed to Michael Angelo in catalogues and picture 
galleries are in every iiistauco copies made by his 
scholars fiom his designs and models. (3nly one easiel 
picture is acknowledged as the genuine production of 
his hand. It is a Holy Family in the Florentine Gallery, 
which as a composition is very exaggerated and ungrace- 
ful, and in colour hard and violent ; it is painted in 
distemper, varnished ; not in oils, as some have sup- 

Marcello Yenusti was continually employed in exe- 
cuting small pictures from celebrated cartoons of 
Michael Angelo ; and the diminutive size, and soft, neat, 
delicate execution, form a singular contrast with the 
sublimity of the composition and the grand massive 
drawing of the figures. One of these subjects is the 
Virgin seated at the foot of the Cross, holding on her 
lap the dead Redeemer, whose arms are suppoii:<5d by 
two angels : innumerable duplicates and engravings 
exist of this composition (one exquisite example is in 
the Queen's gallery in Buckingham Palace) ; also of the 


Died 1564.] HIS SCHOLARS. 209 

Christ on the Cross, with the Virgin and St. John stand- 
ing, and two angels looking out of the sky behind with 
an expression of intense anguish (one of these, a very 
fine example, was lately sold in the Lucca gallery). 
These two, the Piet^ and the Crucifixion, were painted 
from drawings which he had made for Vittoria Colonna. 
Another is II Silenzio, The Silence : the Virgin is repre- 
sented with the infant Christ lying across her knee, with 
his arm hanging down ; she has a book in one hand : 
behind her on one side is the young St. John in the 
panther's skin, with his finger on his lips ; on the other, 
St. Joseph. The Annunciation, in which the figure of 
the Virgin is particularly majestic, is a fourth. Copies 
of these subjects, with trifling variations; arc to be found 
in many galleries, and the engravings of all are in the 
British Museum. 

Sebastian del Piomdo was another artist who painted 
under the direction and from the cartoons of Michael 
Angolo, and the most famous example of this union of 
talent is the Raising of Lazarus, in our National Cal- 
ler}'. *' Sebastian," says Lanzi, **was without the gift 
of invention, and in compositions of many figures slow 
and irresolute;'* but he was a consummate portrait - 
painter and a most admirable colounst. A Venetian by 
birth, he had learned the art of colounng under Gior- 
gione. On coming to Kome in 1518 lie fonned a close 
intimacy with Michael Angelo : the tradition is, that 
Michael Angelo associated Sebastiano with himself, and 
gave him the cartoons of his grand designs, to which the 
Venetian was to lend the magical hues of liis palette, fc>r 
the puq)ose of crushing Kaphael. If tliis tradition be 


true, the failure was signal and deserved ; but luckily 
we are not cUigtd to believe it : it rests on no authority 
worthy of credit. 

GiAcopo PoNTOEMO painted the Venus and Cupid now 
at Hampton Court, from a famous cartoon of Michael 
Angelo ; and also a Leda, which is in the National Gal- 
lery, and of which the cartoon, by Michael Angelo, is 
in our Royal Academy.* 

But the most celebrated and the most independent 
among the scholars and imitators of Michael Angelo was 
Danikl da Volterra, whose most famous work is the 
Taking down the Saviour from the Cross, with a num- 
ber of figures full of energy and movement. It is in 
the church of the Monte di Tiinita at Rome. 

Giorgio Vasari was a pupil and especial favouiite of 
Michael Angelo ; he was a painter and architect of 
second-rate merit. lie has, however, earned himself an 
immortality by his admirable biography of the painters, 
sculptors, and architects of Italy, from the earliest times 
to the death of Michael Angelo, whom he survived only 
ten 3'ears. A large picture by Vasari, representing the 
six great poets of Italy, is in the gallery of Mr. Hope. 

It is not necessary to say anything here of the painters 
who, in the middle of the sixteenth century, and in the 
lifetime of Michael Angelo, imitated his manner ; they 
were mere journeymen, and, indeed, imitated him most 
abominably ; mistaking extravagance for sublimity, exag- 
geration for grandeur, and distortion and affectation for 
energy and ];>as8ion : — a wretched set. But before we 
leave Florence we must speak of one more artist, whose 

* The Lcda is not exhibited in the National Gallery. 

Died 1564.] 



proper place is here, because lie was a Florentine, and 
because he combined in a singular manner the charac- 
teristics of the three great men of whom we have 
last spoken — Lionardo da Vinci, Fra Bartolomeo, and 
Michael Angelo — ^without exactly imitating or equalling 
any one of them. This was Andrea del Sarto, a great 
artist ; but who would have been a &r greater artist had 
be been a better man. 

( 212 ) 


Born 1488, died 1530. 


AxDREA Yannuchi WES the son of a tailor (in Italian 
Sarto) ; henco the appellation by which he was early 
knoMm and has since become celebrated : he was bom 
in 1478, and, like many others, begem life as a goldsmith 
and cha-ser in metal, but soon turning his attention to 
jminting, and studying indefatigably, he attained bo 
much excellence that he was called in his own time 
** Andrea senza errori," that is, Andrea the Faultless. He 
is certainly one of the most fascinating of painters, but 
in all his pictures, even the finest, while we are struck 
by the elegance of the heads and tlie majesty of the 
figures, we feel the want of any real elevation of senti- 
ment and expression. It would be difficult to point out 
any picture of Andrea del Sarto which has either sim- 
plicity or devotional feeling. 

A man possessed of genius and industry', loving bis 
art, and crowned with earl}- fame and success, ought to 
have been through life a prosperous and a happy man. 
Andrea was neither : — he was miserable, unfortunate, 
and contemned, through his own fault or folly. He 
loved a beautiful woman of infamous character, who 
was the wife of a hatter ; and on the death of her hus- 

1,BIU1» OBI. SAM" 

: j'"" 



i# * 

.f tM*' 

Died 1530.] ANDREA DEL SARTO. 213 

band, in spite of her bad reputation and the warnings 
of bis best friends, bo married her : from that hour be 
never bad a quiet beart, or borne, or conscience. He bad 
bitberto supported bis old &tber and motber : sbe pre- 
vailed on bim to forsake tbem. His friends stood aloof, 
pitying and despising bis degradation. His scbolars 
(and formerly tbo most promising of tbe young artists 
of tbat. time bad been emulous for tbe bonour of bis 
instructions) now fell off, unable to bear tbe detestable 
temper of tbe woman wbo governed bis bouse. Tired 
of tbis existence, be accepted readily an invitation from 
Francis I., wbo, on bis arrival at Paris, loaded bim witb 
favour and distinction ; but after a time, his wife, finding 
sbe had no longer the same command over his purse 
or his proceedings, summoned him to return. He had 
entered into sucli engagements with Francis I. that this 
was not easy ; but as he pleaded his domestic posi- 
tion, and promised, and even took an oath on the Gospel, 
that ho would return in a few m(mths, bringing with 
bim his wife, the king gave him licence to depart, and 
even intrusted him with a large sum of money to be 
expended in certain specified objects. 

Andrea hastened to Florence, and there, under the 
innuence of his infamous wife, he embezzled the money, 
which was wasted in his own and her extravagance ; 
and he never returned to France to keep his oath and 
engagements. But though he had been weak and 
wicked enough to commit this crime, be bad sufficient 
sensibility to feel acutely the disgrace which was the 
consequence ; it preyed on his mind and embittered the 
rest of his life. The avarice and infidelity of his wife 

214 ANDREA DEL SARTO. [Bobs im. 

added to his sufferings. He continued to paint, how- 
ever, and improved to the last in correctness of style * 
and beauty of colour. 

In the year 1530 he was attacked by a contagions 
disorder ; abandoned on his deathbed by the woman to 
whom he had sacrificed honour, fietme, and friends, he 
died miserably, and was buried, hastily and without 
the usual ceremonies of the Church, in the same convent 
of the Nunziata which he had adorned with his works. 

Andrea del Sarto can only be estimated as a painter 
by those who have visited Florence. Fine as are his 
oil-pictures, his paintings in fresco are still finer. One 
of these, a Repose of the Holy Family, has been cele- 
brated for the last two centuries under the title of the 
Miulonna del Sacco^ because Joseph is represented leaning 
on a sack. There are engravings of it in the British 
Museum. The cloisters of the convent of the Nunziata, 
containing scenes from the history of the Virgin ^lary, 
and a court or cloister once belonging to the Campagnh 
dillo Scalzo, painted with scenes from the life of John 
the Baptist (the tutelary saint of Florence), are his 
greatest works. His finest picture in oil is in the 
Florence Gallery, in the cabinet called the Tribune, 
where it hangs behind the Venus de* Medici. It repre- 
sents the Virgin seated on a throne, with St. John the 
Baptist standing on one side, and St. Francis on the 
other ; a picture of wonderful majesty and beauty. In 
general his Madonnas are not pleasing ; they have, with 
great beauty, a certain vulgarity of expression, and in 
his groups he almost always places the Virgin on the 
ground, either kneeling or sitting. His only model for 

ST. JOACHIM, iniT Andrcu 

Died ] 530.] HIS WORKS. 2 1 5 

all his females was his wife ; and even when he did 
not paint from her, she so possessed his thoughts that 
unconscioiisly he repeated the same features in every 
face he drew, whether Virgin, or saint, or goddess. 
Pictures by Andrea del Sarto are to be found in almost 
all galleries, but veri/ fine examples of his art are rare 
out of Florence. The picture in our National Gallery 
attributed to him is very unworthy of his reputation. 
Those at Hampton Court are not better. There is a 
fine portrait at Windsor, called the Gardener of the 
Duke of Florence, attributed to him, and a female head, 
a sketch fiill of nature and power. In the Louvre is the 
picture of Charity, No. 85, painted for Francis I. when 
Andrea was at Fontainebleau in 1518, and three others. 
Lord Westminster, Lord Lansdowne, Mr. Munroe of 
Park Street, and Lord Co'W'per in his collection at 
Pannhangcr, possess the finest examples of Andrea del 
Sarto which are in England. At Fanshangcr there is a 
very fine portrait of Andrea del Sarto by himself ; he is 
represented as standing by a table at which he has been 
wTiting, and looking up from the letter which lies 
before him : the figure is half-length, and the counte- 
nance noble, but profoundly melancholy. One might 
fancy that he had been writing to his ^^^fe. 

( 216 ) 


Born 148?, dikd 1520. 

I HAVE spoken at length of two among the great men 
who influenced the progress of art in the beginning of 
the sixteenth century — Lionardo da Vinci and Michael 
Augclo. The third and greatest name was that of 

In speaking of this wonderful man I shall be more 
diftuse and enter more into detail than usual. How can 
we treat in a small compass of him whose fame has filled 
the universe ? In the histoiy of Italian art he stands 
alone, like Shakspere in the history of our literature; 
and he t;ikes the same kind of rank, a superioiity not 
merely of degree, but of quality. Everjbody has heard 
of Rai'Hakl ; every one has attached some associations 
of excellence and beauty, more or less defined, to that 
fiimiliar name : but it is necessaiy to have studied pro- 
foundly the history of art, and to have an intimate 
acquaintance with the productions of contemporary and 
succeeding artists, to form any just idea of the wide 
and lasting influence exercised by this harmonious and 
powerful genius. His works have been an inexhaust- 
ible storehouse of ideas to painters and to poets. 
Everywhere in art we find his traces. Everywhere we 

iV ' 



reoognise his fonns and lines, borrowed or stolen, 

reproduced, varied, imitated — never improved. Some 

ditio once said, " Show me any sentiment or feeling in 

any poet, ancient or modem, and I will show you the 

Bune thing either as well or better expressed in Shak- 

spere ; in the same manner one might say, '* Show me 

in any painter, ancient or modem, any especial beanty 

of form, expression, or sentiment, and in some picture, 

drawing, or print after Baphael, I will show you the 

same thing as well or better done, and that accomplished. 

which others have only sought or attempted." To 

complete our idea of this rare union of greatness and 

versatility as an artist with all that could grace and 

dignify the man, we must add such personal qualities 

as very seldom meet in the same individual ~ a bright, 

generous, genial, gentle spirit; the most attractive 

manners, the most winning modesty — 

** HIb heavenly face the mirror of hia mind ; 
Hia mind a temple for all lovely things 
To flock to, and inhabit "— 

and we shall have a picture in our fkncy more resem- 
bling that of an antique divinity, a young Apollo, than 
a real human being. There was a vulgar idea at one 
time prevalent that Eaphael was a man of vicious and 
dissipated habits, and even died a victim to his ex- 
cesses; this slander has been silenced for ever by 
indisputable evidence to the contrary, and now we may 
reflect with pleasure that nothing rests on surer evi- 
dence than the admirable qualities of Eaphael ; that no 
earthly renown was ever so unsullied by reproach, so 
justified by merit, so confirmed by concurrent opinion, 



80 established by time. The short life of Raphael ivu 
one of incessant and persevering study : he spent one- 
half of it in acquiring that practical knowledge and 
that mechanical dexterity of hand which were necessazy 
before he oould embody in forms and colours the ridi 
creations of his wonderful mind ; and when he died, at 
the age of thirty-seven, he left behind him two hundred 
and eightynseven pictures and five hundred and seventy- 
six drawings and studies. If we reflect for one mo- 
ment we must be convinced that such a man could not 
have been idle and dissipated : for we must always take 
into consideration that an excelling painter must be not 
only a poet in mind, but a rejwiy and perfect artificer ; 
and that, though nature may bestow the ** genius and 
the faculty divine," only time, practice, assiduoiw 
industry, can give the exact and cunning hand. " An 
author," as Richardson observes, ** must think, but it is 
no matter what character he writes ; he has no care about 
that, if what he writes be legible. A curious me- 
chanic's hand must bo exquisite ; but his thoughts may 
be at liberty :'* while the painter must think and invent 
with his fancy, and what his fancy invents his hand 
must acquire the power to execute, or vain is his po^er 
of creative thought. It has been observed — though 
Raphael was unhappily an exception — that painters are 
generally long lived and healthy, and that, of all the 
professors of science and art, they are the least liable to 
alienation of mind or morbid effects of the brain. One 
reason may be, that through the union of the opposite 
faculties of the excursive fancy and mechanic skill— 
head and hand balancing each other — a sort of harmony 




in their alternate or coefficient exercise is preserved ' 
habitually, which reaota on the whole moral and phy- 
sical being. Ab Raphael carried to thf.- highest per- 
fection the union of those faculties of hc^ and hand 
which constitute the completo artist, eo thie harmony 
pervaded his whole being, and nothing deformed or 
discordant could enter there. In all the porlraits 
which exist of him, from infancy to manhood, there is I 
a divine sweetneas and repose ; the little chemb face of ] 
three years old is not more serene and angelic than the f 
mmo features at thirty. The child whom father and 
mother, guardian and stepmother, caressed and idolised ) 
in his lo\-ing innocence, waa the same being whom 
SCO in the prime of manhood subduing and reigning i 
over all hearts, so that, to borrow the words of a t 
temporary, "not only all men, but the very brntea 1 
loved him :'* the only veiy distiagoished man of whom 
we read who lived and died without an enemy c 
detractor I 

Raphuel Snnzio or Sant! Was bom in the city ot I 
Urbino, on Oood Friday in the year 1483. His father, 
Giovanni Santi. waa a painter of no mean taJent, who 
held a respeotable rank in his native city, and waa 
much esteemed by the Dukes Fredorigo and Guidc^baldo 
of TJrbino, both of whom played a very important part J 
in the history of Italy between 14T4 and 14(14. The \ 
3 of Raphael's mother was Magia, and the hou! 
bich ho was bom is still standing, and regarded by 
I citizens of Urbino with just veneration. He was 
eight years old when he lost his mother, but hia 
■'e second wife, Bernardiaa, well suppliul her 4 
L 2 


place, and loved him and tended him as if he had been 
her own son. His &ther was his first instructor, and 
very soon the young pupil was not only able to assist 
him in his works, but showed such extraordinary talent 
that Giovanni deemed it right to give him the advantage 
of better teaching than his own. Pemgino was the 
most celebrated master of that time, and Giovanni 
travelled to Perugia to make arrangements for placing 
Baphael under his care, but before these arrangements 
were completed this good father died, in August, 1494. 
His wishes were however carried into execution by his 
widow, and by his wife's brother, Simone Ciarla, and 
Kaphael was sent to study under Perugino in 1495, 
being then twelve years old. 

He remained in this school till he was nearly twenty, 
and was chiefly employed in assisting his master. A few 
pictures painted between his sixteenth and twentieth 
year have been authenticated by careful research, and 
are very interesting from being essentially charao- 
tenstic. There is, of course, the manner of his master 
Perugino, but mingled with some of those qualities 
which were particularly his own, and which his after 
life developed into excellence ; and nothing in these 
early pictures is so remarkable as the gradual improve- 
ment of his style, and his young predilection for his 
favourite subject, the Madonna and Child. The most 
celebrated of all his pictures painted in the school of 
Perugino was one representing the Marriage of the 
Virgin Mary to Joseph — a subject which is very com- 
mon in Italian art, and called Lo Sposalizio (the Espou- 
sals). This beautiful picture is preserved in the Galleiy 


at Milan. There is a large and fine engraTing of it by 
Longhi, which can be seen in any good print-ehop. In 
the nme year that he painted this picture (1504) 
Raphael viflited Florence for the first time. He carried 
with him a letter of recommendation from Oiovanna, 
DochesB of Sora and sister of the Duke of Urbino, to 
Soderini, who had succeeded the exiled Medici in the 
goremment of Florence. In this letter the duchess 
styles him " a discreet and amiable youth," to whom 
she was attached for his father's sake and for his own 
good qualities, and she requests that Soderini will 
fiiTonr and aid him in his pursuits. Baphael did not 
remain long at Florence in this first visit, but he made 
the acquaintance of Fra Bartolomeo and Ridolfo Ghir- 
landajo, and saw some cartoons by Liomardo da Vinci 
and Michael Angelo, which filled his mind with new 
and bold ideas both of form and composition. In tho 
following year he was employed in executing several 
large pictures for various churches at Perugia. One of 
these, a large altarpiece, painted for the church of the 
Servite, is now at Blenheim : it is full of beauty and 
dignity ; beneath it was a little picture of St. John 
preaching in tho Wilderness, which is in tho possession 
of Lord Lansdowne. The Blenheim altarpiece has 
lately been engraved in a perfect style by Louis Gruner. 
It represents the enthroned Virgin and Child, with 
John the Baptist and St. Nicholas. About tho same 
time he painted for himself a lovely little miniature 
called the Dream of the Young Knight, in which he re- 
presents a youth armed, who sees in a vision two female 
figures, one alluring him to pleasure, the other, with a 


on points of oostume or chronology : but when he began 
his paintings in the Vatican he was wholly unassisted, 
and the plan which he laid before the pope, and whicli 
was immediately approved and adopted, shows that tike 
grasp and cidtivation of his mind equalled his powen 
as a painter. He dedicated this first saloon, called in 
Italian the Camera della Segnatura, to the glory of thoee 
high intellectual pursuits which may be said to em- 
brace in some form or other all human culture— be 
represented Theology, Poetry, Philosophy, and Juris- 

And first on the ceiling he painted in four circles four 
allegorical female figures with characteristic symbols, 
throned amid clouds, and attended by beautiful genii. 
Of these the figure of Poetry is distinguished by superior 
grandeur and inspiration. Beneath these figures and on 
the four sides of the room he painted four great pictures, 
each about fifteen feet high by twenty or twenty-five 
feet wide, the subjects illustrating historically the fonr 
allegorical figures above. Under Theology he placed the 
composition improperly called La Dispnta del Sacrameivto^ 
which represents rather the whole system of Revelation, 
like a grand poem combining heaven and earth. In the 
upper part is the heavenly glory, the Redeemer in the 
centre, beside him the Virgin-mother. On the right and 
left, arranged in a semicircle, patriarchs, apostles, and 
saints, all seated ; all full of character, dignity, and a kind 
of celestial repose befitting their beatitude. Angels are 
hovering round : four of them, surrounding the emblem- 
atic Dove, hold the Gospels. In the lower half of the 
picture are assembled the celebrated doctors and teachers 


of the ChoToli, grand, solemn, meditative figures ; some 
aearcbing their hooks, some lost in thought, some engaged 
in oolloqnj snhlime. And on each side, a little lower, 
groups of disciples and listeners, every head and figure a 
study of character and expression, all different, all full 
of nature, animation, and significance : and thus the two 
parts of this magnificent composition, the heavenly heati- 
tnde ahove, the mystery of faith helow, combine into 
one comprehensive whole. This picture contains about 
fifty full-length figures. 

Under Poetiy we have Mount Famassus. Apollo and 
the Muses are seen on the summit. On one side, near 
them, the epic and tragic poets Homer, Yirgil, Danto. 
(Ariosto had not written his poem at this timo, and 
Milton and Tasso were yet unborn.) Below, on each 
side, are the lyrical poets Petrarch, Sappho, Corinna, 
Pindar, Ilorace. The arrangement, grouping, and cha- 
racter are most admirable and graceful ; but Kaphaers 
original design for this composition, as we have it en- 
graved by Marc Antonio, is finer than the fresco, in 
which there are many alterations which cannot be con- 
sidered as improvements. 

Under Philosophy he has placed the School of Athens. 
It represents a grand hall or portico, in which a flight 
of steps separates the foreground from the background. 
Conspicuous, and above the rest, are the elder intellec- 
tual philosophers, Plato, Aristotle, Socrates ; Plato cha- 
racteristically pointing upwards to heaven; Aristotle 
pointing to the earth ; Socrates impressively discoursing 
to the listeners near him. Then, on a lower plan, we 
have the Sciences and Arts, represented by Pythagoras 

L 3 


and Archimedes; Zoroaster, and Ptolemy the geographer; 
while alone, as if avoiding and avoided by all, sits Dio- 
genes the Cynic. Baphael has represented the art d 
painting by the figure of his master Perugino, and hn 
introduced a portrait of himself humbly following liisL 
The group of Archimedes (whose head is a portrait of 
Bramante the architect) surrounded by his scholan, 
who are attentively watching him as he draws a geo- 
metrical figure, is one of the finest things yirlnck 
Eaphael ever conceived, and the whole composition has 
in its regularity and grandeur a variety and dramatic 
vivacity which relieve it from all formality. This pic- 
ture also contains not less than fifty figures. 

Law, or Jurisprudence, from the particular construc- 
tion of the wall on which the subject is painted, is 
represented with less completeness, and is broken up 
into divisions. Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance 
are above ; below, on one side, is Pope Gregory deliver- 
ing the ecclesiastical law ; and on the other, Justinian 
promulgating his feimous code of civil law. . 

The whole decoration of this chamber forms a grand 
allegory of the domain of human intellect, shadowed 
forth in creations of surpassing beauty and dignity. 
The descnption here given is necessarily brief and im- 
perfect. The reader should consult the engravings of 
these frescoes, and with the above explanation they will 
probably be intelligible ; at all events, the wonderfully 
prolific genius of the painter will be appreciated, in the 
number of the personages introduced and the appro- 
priate characters of each. 

About this time Eaphael painted that portrait of 

Dbd 1520.] MADONNAS. 227 

JnliuB n. of which a duplioate ia in our National Gal- 
lery. No one who has stadied the history of this ez- 
traordinaiy old man, and his relations with Michael 
Angelo and Baphael, can look upon it without interest 
The original is m the Pitti Palace at Florence. 

Also at this time Baphael painted the portrait of him- 
self which is preserved in the Gallery of Painters at 
Florence ; it represents him as a very handsome young 
man widi luxuriant hair and dark eyes, full lips, and a 
pensive yet benign countenance.* To this period we 
may also refer a number of beautiful Madonnas : Lord 
Q9rvBi^% called the Aldobrandini Madonna ; the Virgin 
of the Bridgewator Gallery ; the Yierge au Diad^me in 
the Louvre; and the yet more &mous Madonna di 
Foligno, now at Rome in the Vatican. 

While employed for Pope Julius in executing the 
frescoes already described, Eaphaol found a munificent 
friend and patron in Agostino Chigi, a rich banker and 
merchant who was then living at Borne in great splen- 
dour, lie painted several pictures for him : the four 
Sibyls in the chapel of the Chigi family, in the church 
of Santa Maria della Pace, sublime figures, fall of gran- 
deur and inspiration ; and, on the wall of a chamber in 
his palace, now called the Famesina^ that elegant fresco 
the Triumph of Gkdatea, well known from the numerous 

About the year 1510 Baphael began the decoration of 
the second chamber of the Vatican. Li this series of 

* There is an engraying by Pontiiis. The head engraved by 
Raphael Motghen as the portodt of Raphael is now considered to 
be the portrait of Bindo Aitoyiti. It is at Munich. 


compositions he represented the power and glory of the 
Church and her miracnlous deliverances from her se- 
cular enemies : all these being an indirect honour paid 
to, or rather claimed by, Julius II., who made it a 
subject of pride that he had not only expelled all 
enemies from the Papal territories, but also enlarged 
their boundaries — by no scrupulous means. On the 
ceiling of this room are four beautiful pictures —the 
promises of God to the four Patriarchs, Noah, Abraham, 
Jacob, and Moses. On the four side walls, the Expulsion 
of Heliodorus from the Temple at Jerusalem ; the Miracle 
of Bolsena, by which, as it was said, heretics were 
silenced ; Attila, King of the Huns, terrified by the 
apparition of St. Peter and St. Paul; and St. Peter 
delivered from Prison. Of these the Heliodorus is one 
of the grandest and most poetical of all Raphael's crea- 
tions : the group of the celestial warrior trampling on 
the prostrate Heliodorus, with the avenging spirits rush- 
ing, floating along, air-borne, to scourge the despoiler, 
is wonderful for its supernatural power : it is a vision 
of beauty and terror. 

Before this chamber was finished Julius II. died, and 
was succeeded by Leo X. in 1513. 

Though the character of Pope Leo X. was in all 
respects different from that of Julius, he was not less a 
patron of Raphael than his predecessor had been, and 
certainly the number of learned and accomplished men 
whom he attracted to his court, and the enthusiasm for 
classical learning which prevailed among them, strongly 
influenced those productions of Raphael which date 
from the accession of Leo. They became more and 


'• ■■••■ 

Dren 1530.] 


more allied to the antiqne, and lees oiid loss ombued 
with that pore religious epirit which we find in his 
e«rliijr works. 

CarditiBl Bembo, Cardinal Bibiena, Connt Castiglione, 
the poets Ariosto and Stmazzaro, ranked at this time 
Moong Raphael's intimate Crienda. With his celebrity 
his riches increased : he built himself a fine house in 
that part of Borne called the Borgo, between St. Peter's 
and the Caatlo of St. Angelo ; he had numerous scholars 
frnm all parls of Italy, who attended on him with a love 
and reverence and duty far beyond the lip and knoe 
homage which waita on priuoes ; asd such was the 
bfluenpc of his benign and genial tcmi>er, that all these 
}^oung men lived in tlie most entire union and friend- 
ship with him and with each other, and his school was 
never disturbed by those animosities and jealousies 
which before and since have disgraced the schools of 
art in Italy, All the other painters of that time were 
the friends rather than the livals of the supreme and 
gentle Baphoel, with the single exception of Michael 

About the period at which we are now arrived, the 
beginning of the pontificate of Leo X., Michael Angelo 
had left Rome for Florence, as it has been related in his 
Life. Lioniirdo da Vinci came to Eome, by the invita- 
tion of Leo, attended by a train of scholars, and lived 
on good tonus with Haphael, who tieatcd the venerable 
old man with becoming deference. Fra Bartolomeo 
aleo vialted Home about 1513, to the great joy of his 
bieod. We find Raphael at this time on terms of the 
tenderest friendship with Francia. and in correspondence 


230 RAPHAEL 8ANZI0 D'dRBIKO. [Bour im. 

with Albert Dnrer, for whom he entertained the highest 

Under Leo X. Raphael continued his great works in 
the Vatican. He began the third hall or ccanera in 
1 515. The ceiling of this chamber had been painted by 
his master Pemgino for Sixtns lY. ; and Baphael, from 
a feeling of respect for his old master, wonld not remove 
or paint over his work. On the sides of the room be 
represented the principal events in the lives of Pope 
Leo m. and Pope Leo IV., shadowing forth under tiieir 
names the glory of his patron Leo X. Of these pictures, 
the most remarkable is that which is called in Italian 
rincendio del Borgo (the Fire in the Borgo). The 
story says that this populous part of Rome was on fire 
in the time of Leo IV., and that the conflagration was 
extinguished by a miracle. In the hurry, confusion, 
and txunult of the scene ; in the men escaping half 
naked ; in the terrified groups assembled in the fore- 
ground ; in the women carrj'ing water ; we find every 
variety of attitude and emotion, expressed with a perfect 
knowledge of fonn ; and some of the figures exhibit the 
influence of Michael Angelo*s ceiling of the Sistine 
Chapel already described. This fresco, though so fine 
in point of drawing, is the worst coloured of the whole 
series ; the best in point of colour are the Heliodorus 
and the Miracle of Bolsena. 

The last of the chambers in the Vatican is the Hall of 
Constantinc, painted with scenes from the life of that 
emperor. The whole of these frescoes having been exe- 
cuted by the scholars of Raphael, from his designs and 
cartoons, we shall not dwell on them here, only ob- 

TiiK TitiiF.K ANOKw vinrr abraiian. 

from R»ph>elV Uil.lf. 

Pud 1520.] LOGGIE OF THE VATICAN'. 231 

■erring tliat an excellent reduced copy of the finest of 
all» the Battle of Constantine and Maxentius, may be 
aeen at Hampton Court. It is attributed to Giulio 

While Baphael, assisted by his scholars, was designing 
and executing the large frescoes in the Vatican, he was 
also engaged in many other works. His fertile mind 
and ready hand were never idle, and the number of 
original ozeationa of this wonderful man, and the rapidity 
with which they sncoeeded each other, are quite un- 
exampled. Among his most celebrated and popular 
compositions is the series of subjects from the Old 
Testament, called ' BaphaeVs Bible ;' these were com- 
paratively small pictures adorning the thirteen cupolas 
of the *' Loggie " of the Vatican. These '* Loggie " are 
open galleries running round three sides of an open 
court ; and the gallery on the second story is the one 
painted under Baphael's direction. Up the sides and 
round the windows are arabesque ornaments, festoons 
of fruit, flowers, animals, all combined and grouped 
together with the most exquisite and playful fancy ; they 
have been much injured by time, yet more by the bar- 
barous treatment of the French soldiery when Bome was 
sacked in 1527, and worst of all by unskilful attempts at 
restoration. The pictures in the cupolas, being out of 
reach, are better preserved. Sacred subjects were 
never represented in so beautiful, so poetical, and so 
intelligible a manner as by Baphael ; but as the copies 
and engravings of these works are innumerable and 
easily met with, I shall not enter into a particular 
description of them ; very good copies of several may 


be Been at the National School of Design at Ken- 

There was still another great work for the Vatican 
intrusted to Raphael. The interior of the Sistine 
Chapel had been ornamented round the lower walk 
with paintings in imitation of tapestries. Leo X. 
resolved to substitute real draperies of the most costly 
material ; and Haphael was to furnish the subjects and 
drawings, which were to be copied in the looms of 
Flanders, and worked in a mixture of wool, silk, 
and gold. Thus originated the famous Cartoons of 

Thoy were originally eleven in number, to fit the ten 
compartments into which the wall was divided by as 
many pilasters, and the space over the altar. Eight 
were large, one larger than the rest, and two small. Of 
the eleven cartoons designed by Raphael, four are lost, 
and seven remain, which are now in the Royal Gallery 
at Hampton Court. As they rank among the greatest 
productions of art, and are freely thrown open to the 
public, I shall give a detailed account of them here 
from various source8,f and add some remarks which may 

♦ A set of excellent engravings from the series, in a fine free style, 
and of a large size, and all executed at Rome after the originil 
frescoes, was published by Parker in the Strand, at the extraordi- 
narily low price of six engravings for nine shillings. The subjects, 
the size, and the fine taste of the execution, render them admirable 
ornaments for the walls of a school -room or study. 

t See Passavant's * Rafael;* Kugler's ' Handbuch;* Bunsen's * Stadt 
Rom;' Murray's < Handbook to the Public Galleries of Art;' and t 
very clever account of the Cartoons which appeared in the * Penny 
Magazine ' some years ago. From all these works extracts have been 
freely taken, and put together so as to form a correct and complete 
description both of the Cartoons and the Tapestries. 

'Ik ' 



N. - 
# at'' 

Died 1520.J THE CARTOONS. 233 

enable the uninitiated to foim a judgment of their cha- 
racteristic merits.* 

The intention in the whole series of subjects was to 
express the mission, the sufferings, and the triumph of 
the Christian Church. The Death of the First Martyr, 
and the acts of the two great Apostles St. Peter and St. 
Paul, were ranged along the sides to the right and left 
of the high altar ; while over the altar was the Corona- 
tion of the Virgin, a subject which, as I have already 
observed, was always symbolical of the triumph of reli- 
gion. In the original arrangement the tapestries hung 
in the followiug order : f — 

On the left of the altar — 1. The Miraculous Draught 
of Fishes (i. e, the Calling of Peter) ; 2. The Charge to 
Peter ; 3. The Stoning of Stephen ; 4. The Healing of 
the Lame Man ; 5. The Death of Ananias. 

On the right of the altar — 1 . The Conversion of St. 
Paul ; 2. Elymus struck Blind ; 3. Paul and Barnabas 
at Lystra; 4. Paul preaching at Athens; 5. Paul in 
Prison. All along underneath ran a rich border in 
chiaroscuro, of a bronze colour, relieved with gold, 
representing on a smaller scale incidents in the life of 
Leo X., with ornamental arabesques, groups of sporting 
genii, fruits, flowers, &c. ; and the pilasters between the 
tapestries were also adorned with rich arabesques. Old 
engravings exist of some of these designs, which are 
among the most beautiful things in Italian art ; as full 

* At this time (1858) a series of photographs has been taken troxn. 
the Cartoons. 

\ Subsequently, when the whole of the wall was painted by 
Michael Angelo with the Last Judgment, this order was changed, 
and the tapestry of the Crowning of the Vii^in entirely removed. 


of grandeTir and grace as they are exquisitely fioicifiil 
and luxuriant. 

The large cartoons of this series which are lost an, 
the Stoning of Stephen; the Conversion of St. Paul; 
Paul in his Dungeon at Philippi ; and the Crowniog of 
the Virgin. 

The seven which remain to us are arranged at Hamp- 
ton Court without any regard either to their original 
arrangement or to chronological order. Beginning at 
the door by which we enter, they succeed each other 
thus: — 

1. The Death of Ananias. 

** Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God." — Acts v. 

Nine of the Apostles stand together on a raised plat- 
form ; St. Peter in the midst, with uplifted hands, is in 
the act of speaking ; on the right Ananias lies prostrate 
on the earth, while a young man and woman, on the left, 
are starting back, with ghastly horror and wonder in 
every feature ; in the background, to the left, is seen 
Sapphira, who, unaware of the catastrophe of her hns- 
band and the terrible fate impending over her, is paying 
some money with one hand, while she withholds some 
in the other ; St. John and another Apostle are on the 
left, distributing alms. The figures are altogether twenty- 
four in number. Size, seventeen feet six inches by eleven 
feet four inches. 

As a composition, considered artistically, this cartoon 
holds the first place ; nothing has ever exceeded it : only 
fiaphael himself, in some of his other works, has equalled 
it in the wondrous adaptation of the means employed to 

Died 1590.] THE CABTOON3. 23S 

the end in view. Sj tbe oironlar ftrrangement of tli« 
composition, and by eleTiiting the figores behind Above 
those in front, the whole of the peraonagea on the soene 
are brooght at onoe to Bight The elevated position of 
Peter and James, though standing back &om the fbre- 
gronnd, and their dignified figures, contrast strongly 
-with the abjeot fbnn of Ananias, struck down by the 
hand of God, helpless, and, as it seems, quivering in 
every limb. Those of the spectators who are near 
AnaniM express their horror and astonishment by the 
roost various and appropriate exprcseion. 

" He falls," says Hazlitt, " bo naturally, that it seems 
as if a person could &11 no other way ; and yet, of all 
the ways in which a human figure could foil, it is pro- 
bably the most exprosdvo of a person ovenvhelmed by, 
and in the grasp of, Bivine vengeance. This is in some 
measure the secret of Itaphacl's success. Most paintere, 
in studying an attitude, puzzle themselves to find out 
what will be picturesque, and what will be fine, and 
never discover it. Raphael only thought how a person 
would stand or fiill under Buch or such circumstances, 
and the picturesque and the fine followed as a matter 
of oouise. Hence the unaS'ectod fuvce and dignity 
of his stj'le, which are only another name for truth 
and nature under impressive and momentous circum- 

We have here an instance of that truly Shaksperian 
art by which Baphael always softens and heightens the 
effect of tragic terror. St. John, at the very instant 
when this awful judgment has fallen on the hypocrite 


and unbeliever, has benignly tamed to bestow alms and 
a blessing on the poor good man before him.* 

2. Eltmas the Sorcerer struck with BuNDNEas. 

" And now, behold, the hand of the Lord is upon thee, and thoa 
ahalt be blind, not seeing the aun for a season. And immediately 
there fell on him a mist and a darkness; and he went about seek- 
ing some to lead him by the hand." — Acts xiii. 11. 

The Proconsul Sergins, seated on his throne, beholds 
with astonishment Eljmas stnick blind by the word of 
the Apostle Paul, who stands on the left ; an attendant 
is gazing with wonder in his fsu^e, while eight persona 
behind him are all occupied with the miraculous event 
which is passing before their eyes ; two lictors are on 
the left ; in all fourteen figures. Size, fourteen feet seven 
inches by eleven feet four inches. 

This cartoon, as a composition, is particularly remark- 
able for the concentration of the effect and interest in 
the one action. The figure of St. Paul is magnificent; 
while the crouching abject form of Elymas, groping his 
way, and blind even to his finger-ends, stands in the 
midst, and on him all eyes are bent.f The manner in 

* "It baa been questioned wliether the woman who ia advancing 
from behind was meant for Sapphira, as it is stated in the sacred 
record that three hours had elapsed after tbe death of Ananias before 
she entered the place. Notwithstanding this objection, it is most 
probable that Raphael intended this figure for the wife of Ananias; 
and the slight inaccuracy is more than atoned for by the sublime 
moral, which shows the woman approaching the spot where her 
husband had met his doom, and where her own death awaits her, 
but wholly unconscious of those judgments, and absorbed in count- 
ing that gold by which both she and her partner had been betrayed 
to their fate.** 

t A story is told of Oarrick objecting to the truth of this action 
in the hearing of Benjamin West, who, in vindication of the painter. 

DiBD 1520.] THE CARTOOHa 237 

which the impression is graduated from terror down to 
indifferent cnriosity, while one person explains the event 
to another by means of gesture, are among the most 
spirited dramatic effects Baphael ever produced. 

3. The Healing of the Lame Man at the Beautiful 
Gate of the Temple. 

*' Then Peter said. Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have 
I give unto thee. And he took him by the right hand and lifted 
him up." — AcU iii. 6, 7. 

Under the portico of the Temple of Jerusalem stand 
the two Apostles Peter and John ; the former is holding 
by the hand a miserable deformed cripple, who gazes up 
in his face with joyful, eager wonder ; another cripple 
is seen on the left. Among the people are seen con- 
spicuous a woman with an infant in her arms, and another 
leading two naked boys, one of "whom is carrying two 
doves as an offering. The wreathed and richly adorned 
columns are imitated from those which have been pre- 
served for ages in the church of St. Peter as relics of the 
Temple of Jerusalem. With regard to the composition, 
Baphael has been criticised for breaking it up into parts 
by the introduction of the pillars ; yet, if properly con- 
8idered,'this very management is a proof of the exquisite 
taste of the painter, and his attention to the object he 
had in view. Adhering to the sense of the passage in 
Scripture, he could not make all the figures refer to one 
principal action, the healing of the cripple ; he has there- 
desired Qarrick to shut his eyes and walk across the room, when he 
instantly stretched out his hand, and began to feel his way with the 
exact attitude and expression here represented. 


fore framed it in a manner between the two colmnii; 
and by the g^ronps introduced into the other two diyiaioni 
he has intimated that the people were entering ths 
temple *' at the hour of prayer, being the ninth boor." 
It is evident, moreover, that had the shafts been per- 
fectly straight, according to the severest law of good 
taste in architecture, the effect would have been ex- 
tremely disagreeable to the eye ; by their winding fom 
they harmonise with the manifold forms of the moving 
figures around, and they illustrate, by their elaborate 
eleganoe, the Scripture phrase, '* the gate which is called 
Beautiful.*' The misery, the distortion, the ugliness of 
the cripple, are made as striking as possible, and con- 
trasted with the noble bead and form of St, Peter and 
the benign features of St. John. The figure of the young 
woman with her child is a model of feminine sweetness 
and grace; it is eminently, perfectly Haphaelesque, 
stamped with his peculiar sentiment and refinement 
The bright open sky seen between the interstices of the 
columns harmonises with the lightness, cheerfulness, 
and happy expression of these figures. In the compart- 
ment where the miracle is taking place there is the same 
correspondence of effect with sentiment ; the subdued 
light of the lamps burning in the depth of the recess 
accords well with the reverential feeling excited by the 
sacred transaction. Many parts of this cartoon have 
imfortunately been injured, and much of the harmony 
destroyed, yet it remains one of the most wonderful 
relics of art now extant. 

Hied 1520,] 


4. The Mixacclous Draooht of Fishks. 
'" Vlua SSmcm Peter saw it, h« fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, 
Depart from ms, for I un & sinful moJi, O Lord." — Lnkc t. S. 

On tbe left Christ ia seated in & bark, in the act of 
Speaking to St Petor, who has foUes on his knees before 
Jiim ; behind him is a youth, and a second bark is on 
the right. Two mcu are bufiieil drawing up the nets 
Duracnlonsly Udea, while a third steers. On the ahore, 
ia the foreground, stand three ciunos ; and in the distance 
aie seen the people to whom Christ had been preaching 
ODt of the ship or boat. In this cartoon the composition 
b Tery beautiful ; and the execution, from its mingled 
detioBcy, power, and precision, is snpposed to be almost 
entirely &om liaphaeVs own hand. The effect is wonder- 
liilljr bright. In the broiid clear daylight, and against 
the sky, the figures stand out in strong relief. The 
clear lake ripples round the bark, and the figure of the 
Sftvionr, in the pale blue vest and white mantle, appears 
all light, and radiant with beneficence. The awe, hu- 
mility, and love in the attitude and countenance of St. 
Peter are wonderfully esprossive. The masterly drawing 
in the figures of the Apostles in the second boat conveys 
most strongly the impresBion of the weight they are 
attempting to raise. In the fish and the cranes, all 
painted with exquisite and minute fidelity to imtnre, we 
txace the hand of Giovanni da Cdino. These strange 
black birds have here a grand effect. " There is a 
certain sea-wildnose about them, and, as their fuod was 
£sh, they contribute mightily to express the afiau' in 
hand : they are a fine part of the scene. They serve 
niso to prevent the heaviness which that part would 


otherwise have had, by breaking the parallel lines which 
wonld have been made by the boats and base of die 
picture." * 

5. Paul and Barnabas at Ltstra. 

" Then the priost of Jupiter which was before their city broii|^ 
oxen and garlanda unto the gates, and would have done taaim 
with the people, which when the apostles Barnabas and Fnl 
heard of, they rent their clothes/'— Acts xir. 13, 14. 

On the left Paul and Barnabas are standing beneadi 
a portico, and appear to recoil from the intention of the 

* "A painter is allowed sometimes to depart even from natml 
and historical truth. Thus, in the cartoon of the Draught of Wbrn, 
Raphael has made a boat too little to hold the figures he has pbMed 
in it; and this is so visible that some are apt to triumph over that 
great man, as having nodded on that occasion, while others hxn 
pretended to excuse it by saying it was done to make the miraeb 
appear greater; but the truth is, bad he made the boat large enou^ 
for those figures, his picture would have been all boat, which would 
have had a disagreeable effect ; and to have made his figures smsll 
enough for a vessel of that size would have rendered them uniuit- 
able to the rest of the set, and have made those figures appear len 
considerable. It is amiss as it is, but would have been worse any 
other way, as it frequently happens in other cases. Raphael, there* 
fore, wisely chose this lesser inconvenience, this seeming error, 
which he knew the judicious would know was none; and for the 
rest, he was above being solicitous for his reputation with them. 
So that, upon the whole, this is so £eir from being a fault, that it is 
an instance of the consunmiate judgment of that most incomparable 
man, which he learned in his great school, the antique, where thia 
liberty is commonly taken in an eminent manner in the Tr^an and 
Antoninian columns, and on many other occasions, in the finest bas- 
reliefs. And to note it, by the by, it seems to be a strange rash- 
ness and self-sufficiency in a spectator or a reader when he thinks he 
sees an absurdity in a great author to take it immediately for granted 
it is such. Surely it is a most reasonable and just prejudice in 
favour of a man we have always known to act with wisdom and 
propriety on every occasion, to suspend at least our criticism, and 
cast off illiberal triumph over him, and to suppose it at least poanble 
that he might have had reasons that we are not aware of." — £ickad- 
son, p. 27. 

Died 1520.] THE CARTOONS. 241 

townsmen to offer sacrifice to them ; the first is rending 
his garment and rebuking a man who is bringing a ram 
to be offered. On the right, near the centre, is seen a 
group of the people bringing forward two oxen ; a man 
is raising an axe to strike one of them down ; his aim 
is held back by a youth who, having observed the ab- 
horrent gesture of Paul, judges that the sacrifice will 
be offensive to him. In the foregroimd appears the 
cripple, no longer so, who is clasping his hands with an 
expression of gratitude ; his crutches lie useless at his 
feet ; an old man, raising pcui; of his dress, gazes with 
a look of astonishment on the restored limbs. In the 
background, the forum of Lystra, with several temples. 
Towards the centre is seen a statue of Mercury, in 
allusion to the words in the text : ** And they called 
Paul, Mercurius, because he was the chief speaker." 

As a composition this cartoon is an instance of the 
consummate skill with which Kaphael has contrived to 
bring together a variety of circimistances so combined 
as to make the story perfectly intelligible as a passing 
scene, linking it at the same time with the past and 
the succeeding time. We have the foregone moment in 
the appearance of the healed cripple, and the wonder 
he excites ; in the fiirious looks directed against the 
apostles by some of the spectators wo see foreshadowed 
the persecution which immediately followed this act of 
mistaken adoration. Every part of the grouping, the 
figures, the heads, both in drawing and expression, are 
wonderful, and have an infusion of the antique and 
classical spirit most proper to the subject. The saciifi- 
cial group of the ox, with the figure holding its head 


and the man lifting the axe, was taken from a Bomaa 
bas-relief, which in Baphael's time was in the Villa 
Medici, and the idea varied and adapted to his purpose 
with infinite skill. The boys piping at the altar are 
full of beauty, and most gracefully contrasted in cha- 
racter. The whole is full of movement and interest. 

6. St. Paul Preaching at Athens. 

" Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars' hill, and said, Te man of 
Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious. For 
as I passed by and beheld your devotions, I found on altar witli 
this inscription, To the unknown Qod.*' — Acts xvii '22, 23. 

Paul, standing on some elevated steps, is preaching 
to the Athenians in the Areopagus; behind him are 
three philosophers of the different sects, the Cynic, the 
Epicurean, and the Platonic ; boyond, a group of sophists 
disputing among each other. On the right are seen the 
half- figures of Dionysius the Areopagite and the woman 
Damaris, of whom it is expressly said that they ** believed 
and clave unto him." On the same side, in the back- 
ground, is seen the statue of Mars, in front of a circular 
temple. In point of pictorial composition this cartoon 
is one of the finest in the series. St. Paul, elevated 
above his auditors, grandly dignified in bearing, as one 
divinely inspired, lofty in stature and position, *' stands 
like a tower." This figure of St. Paul has been imitated 
from the fresco by Filippino Lippi, in the Carmine at 
Florence. There Paul is represented as visiting St. 
Peter in prison ; one arm only is raised, the forefinger 
pointing upward ; he is speaking words of consolation 
to him through the grated bars of his dungeon, behind 
which appears the form of St. Peter. Baphael has taken 

Died 1520.] THE CARTOONS. 2-43 

the idea of the figure, raised the two arms, and given 
the whole an air of inspired energy wanting in the 
originaL The persons who surround him are not to 
be considered a mere promiscuous assemblage of indi- 
viduals : among them several figures may each be said 
to personify a class, and the different sects of Grecian 
philosophy may be easily distinguished. Here the 
Cynic, revolving deeply, and fabricating objections ; 
there the Stoic, leaning on his staff, giving a steady but 
scornful attention, and fixed in obstinate incredulity ; 
there the disciples of Plato, not conceding a full belief, 
but pleased at least with the beauty of the doctrine, 
and listening ivith gratified attention. Farther on is 
a promiscuous group of disputants, sophists, and free- 
thinkers, engaged in vehement discussion, but ap- 
parently more bent on exliibiting their own ingenuity 
than anxious to elicit truth or acknowledge conviction. 
At a considerable distance in the background are seen 
two doctors of the Jewish law. The varied groups, the 
fine thinking heads among the auditors, the expression 
of curiosity, reflection, doubt, conviction, faith, as 
revealed in the different countenances and attitudes, are 
all as fine as possible: particularly the man who has 
wrapped his robe around him, and ai)pears buried in 
thought. ** This figure also is borrowed from a fresco 
in the Carmine. The closed eyes, which in the fresco 
might be easily mistaken for sleeping, are not in the 
least ambiguous in the cartoon; the eyes indeed are 
closed, but they are closed with such vehemence that 
the agitation of a mind perplexed in the extreme is seen 
at the first glance. But what is most extraordinary, 

M 2 


and I think pardoularly to be admired, is that the same 
idea is continued through the whole ^ figure, even to tho 
drapery, whidi is so closely muffled about him that 
even his hands are not seen ; by this happy correspond- 
ence between the expression of the countenance and 
the disposition of the parts, the figure appears to think 
from head to foot." * 

7. The Charge to St. Peteb. 

** Feed my sheep.'* — Acts xxi. 16. 

Christ is standing and pointing with the right hand 
to a flock of bbccp ; his left hand is extended towards 
Peter, who, holding the key, kneels at his feet. The 
other ten apostles stand behind him, listening with 
various gestiires and expression to the words of the 
Saviour. In the background a landscape, and on the 
right the Lake of Gennesareth and a fibber's bark. In 
the tapestry the white robe of our Saviour is strewed 
with golden stars, which has a beautiful effect, and 
doubtless existed in the cartoon, though no trace of 
this is now visible. 

As the transaction here represented took place bc- 
ti\'een Christ and St. Peter only, there was little room 
for dramatic efifect. Pichardson praises the introduction 
of the sheep, as the only means of making the incident 
intelligible ; but I agree with Dr. Waagen that herein 
Kaphael has perhaps, in avoiding one error, fallen into 
another, and, not able to give us the real meaning of 
the words, has turned into a palpable object what was 

* Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Died 1590.] THE CARTOONS. 245 

merely a figurative expression, and thus produced an 
ambiguity of another and of a more unpleasant kind. 

The figure of Christ is wonderfully noble in concep- 
tion and treatment; the heads of the apostles finely 
diversified ; in some we see only affectionate acquies- 
cence, duteous submission ; in others wonder, displea- 
sure, and jealous discontent. The figures of the apostles 
are in the cartoon happily relieved fix)m each other by 
variety of local tint, which cannot be given in a print, 
and hence the heavy effect of the composition when 
studied through the engraving only. 

These are the subjects of the famous Cartoons of 
Eaphael. To describe the effect of the light and sketchy 
treatment, so easy and yet so large and grand in style, 
I shall borrow the words of an eloquent writer. 

'* Compared with these," says Hazlitt, as finely as 
truly, *• all other pictures look like oil and vaniish ; we 
are stopped and attracted by the colouring, the pencil- 
ling, the finishing, the instrumentalities of art ; but 
here the painter seems to have flung his mind upon the 
canvas. His thoughts, his great ideas alone, prevail ; 
there is nothing between us and the subject ; we look 
through a frame and see Scripture histories, and are 
made actual spectators in miraculous events. Not to 
speak it profanely, they are a sort of a revelation of the 
subjects of which they treat ; there is an ease and free- 
dom of manner about them which brings preternatural 
characters and situations home to us with the familiarity 
of every-day occurrences; and while the figures fill, 
raise, and satisfy the mind, they seem to have cost the 


painter nothing. Eyerywhere else we see tlie means, 
here we arrive at the end apparently without any 
means. There is a spirit at work in the divine creation 
before us ; we are nnconscions of any steps taken, of 
any progress made ; we are aware only of comprehen* 
sive results — of whole masses of figures : the sense of 
power supersedes the appearance of effort. It is as if 
we had ourselves seen these persons and things at some 
former state of our being, and that the drawing certain 
lines upon coarse paper by some unknown spell brought 
back the entire and living images, and made them pass 
before us, palpable to thought, feeling, sight. Perhaps 
not all this is owing to genius; something of this 
effect may bo ascnbed to the simplicity of the vehicle 
employed in embodying the story, and something to 
the decaying and dilapidated state of the pictures them- 
selves. They are the more majestic for being in ruins. 
We are struck chiefly with the truth of proportion, and 
the range of conception — all made spiritual. The cor- 
ruptible has put on incorruption ; and, amidst the wreck 
of colour and the mouldering of material beauty, nothing 
is left but a universe of thought, or the broad imminent 
shadows of * calm contemplation and majestic pains.' ** 

It is matter of regret, but hardly of surprise, that the 
cartoons have never yet been adequately engraved. 
The first complete series which appeared was by Simon 
Gribelin, a French engraver, who came over in 1680, 
and was published in the reign of Queen Anne. The 
prints are small neat memoranda of the compositions, 
nothing more. 

The second set was executed by Sir Nicholas Dorigny, 


^viio undertook the work under the patronage of the 
govenunent, and presented to the king, George I., in 
1719, two sets of the finished engravings, on which 
occasion the king bestowed on him a purse of one hun- 
dred guineas, and, at the request of the Duke of Devon- 
shire, knighted him. These engravings are large, and 
tolerably but coarsely executed, and are preferred by con- 
noisseurs ; but on the whole they are poor as works of art. 

The set of large engravings by Thomas Holloway was 
begun by him in 1800, and was not quite completed at 
his death in 1826. These engravings have been praised 
for the ** finished and elaborate style in which they have 
been executed," and they deserve this praise ; but, as 
transcripts of the cartoons, they are altogether false in 
point of style. They are too metallic, too mechanical, 
too laboured : a set of masterly etchings would better 
convey an impression of the slight free execution, the 
spiritual ease of the originals. These engravings give 
one the idea of being done from highly finished, deeply 
coloured oil-pictures. 

Since 1837 a lai^e set has been commenced by John 
Burnett, in a mixed, rather coarse style, but effective 
and spirited : they are sold at a cheap rate. 

Lastly, a set of photographs has been recently pub- 
lished (1858). 

Baphael finished these cartoons in 1 616. They are all 
from fourteen to eighteen feet in length, and about twelve 
feet high ; the figures above life size, drawn with chaJk 
upon strong paper, and coloured in distemper, lie 
received for his designs four hundred and thirty-four 
gold ducats (about 6507.), which were paid to him, three 


hundred on the 15th of June, 1515, and one hundred 
and thirty-four in December, 1516. The rich tapestries 
worked from these cartoons, in wool, silk, and gold, were 
completed at Arras, and sent to Bome in 1519. For 
these the Pope paid to the manufacturer at Arras fifty 
thousand gold ducats ; they were exhibited for the first 
time on St. Stephen's Day, December 26, 1519. Baphael 
had the satisfaction, before he died, of seeing them hung 
in their places, and of witnessing the wonder and applause 
they excited through the whole city. Their subse- 
quent fate was very curious and eventful. In the sack 
of Rome, in 1 527, they were carried away by the French 
soldiery ; but woi*e restored in 1 553, during the reign of 
Pope Julius III., by the Due de Montmorenci, all but the 
piece wliicli represented the Coronation of the Virgin, 
which is supposed to have been biimcd for the sake of 
the gold thread. Again, in 1798, they made part of the 
French spoliations, and were actually sold to a Jew at 
Leghorn, who burnt one of them for the purpose of 
extracting the precious metal contained in the threads. 
As it was found, however, to furnish very little, the 
proprietor judged it better to allow the others to retain 
their original shape, and they were soon afterwards 
repurchased from him by the agents of Pius VII., and 
reinstated in the galleries of the Vatican. Several sets 
of tapestries were worked from the cartoons : one was 
sent as a present to Ileniy VIII., and after the death of 
Charles I. sold into Spain ; another or the same set was 
exhibited in London a few years ago, and has since been 
sold to the King of Prussia. At present these tapestries 
are hung in the Museum at Berlin. 


While all Borne was indulging in ecstasies over the 
rich and dearly paid tapestries, which were not tJierij and 
are still less rune, worth one of the cartoons, these precious 
productions of the artist's own mind were lying in the 
warehouse of the weaver at Arras, neglected and for- 
gotten. Some were torn into fragments, and parts of 
them exist in various collections. Seven still remained 
in some garret or cellar, when Rubens, just a century 
afterwards, mentioned their existence to Charles I., and 
advised him to purchase them for the use of a tapestry 
manu&ctory which King James I. had established at 
Mortlakc. The purchase was made. They had been 
cut into long slips about two feet wide, for the conve- 
nience of the workmen, and in this state they arrived in 
England.* On Charles's death, Cromwell bought them 
at the sale of the royal effects for 300/. Wo had very 
nearly lost them again in the reign of Charles II., for 
I^uis XIV. having intimated through his ambassador, 
Barillon, a wish to possess them at any price, the needy, 
careless Charles was on the point of yielding them, and 
would have done so but for the representations of the 
Lord Treasurer Danby, to whom, in fact, we owe it that 
they were not ceded to France. They remained, how- 
ever, neglected in one of the lumber-rooms at AVhitehall 
till the reign of William III., and narrowly escaped 

* There can be no doubt of the purpose for which Charles I. 
acquired them. The entry in the king's catalogue runs thus: — *' In 
a slit wooden case some two cartoons of Raphael Urbino's, for hana- 
ings to be made by ; aud the other five are, by the king's appointment, 
delivered to Mr. Francis Cleyne, at Mortlake, to rwike hanijmjs by" 
It appears that Cromwell had some intention of continuing the ma- 
nufactory of tapestry at Mortlake as a national undertaking, aud 
retained the cartoons for purposes connected with it. 

M 3 


being destroyed by fire when "Whitehall was burned in 
1698. It must have been shortly afterwards that King 
William ordered them to be repaired, the fragments 
pasted together and stretched upon linen ; and being 
just at that time occupied with the alterations and im- 
provements at Hampton Court, Sir Christopher Wren 
had his commands to plan and erect a room expressly to 
receive them — the room in which they now hang. 

In the Vatican there is a second set of ten tapestries, 
for which Raphael gave the original designs, but he did 
not execute the cartoons, and the style of drawing in 
those fragments which remain is not his. A verj' fine 
fragment of one of these cartoons, lite Massacre of the 
Iniiorents, is in our National Galler}*. According to the 
best authorities, this is not by the hand of Raphael. It 
is very different in the style of execution from the car- 
toons at Hampton Court, and has been painted over in 
oil, when or by whom is not kno\\Ti, but certainly before 
1730. The subjects of the second set wore all from the 
life of Christ, and wore as follows : — 

1 . The Massacre of the Innocents. 

2. The Adoration of the Shepherds. 

3. The Adoration of the Magi. 

4. The Presentation in the Temple. 

5. The Resurrection. 

6. The Noli me Tangore. 

7. The Descent into Purgatory. 

8. Christ and the Disciples at Emmaus. 

9. The Ascension. 

10. The Descent of the Holy Ghost. 

V ■^ 

ei MKJIAI.I ..MIi((,Mt»ii fATAN-IUni 

Died 1520.] ST. MICHAEL AKD SATAN. 231 

The faqieaitries of theae subjects still hang in the 
Vktican, sad all have been engrsTed. 

The &me of Baphael had by this time spread to other 
ooimtries. Honce Walpole, in the ' Anecdotes of Point- 
ing,' aaBnies tib that Heniy VIII., who on coming to the 
throne was desirooB of emal&ting Francis I. aa a patron 
of art, invited Baphael to his coort ; but he does not say 
on what anthority he states this as a &ct. At all events, 
the young king was obliged to content himself with the 
little St, George sent to him by the Dolce of Urbino, as 
a specimen of Raphael's talent ; and with Iloliiein, whom 
he soon after engaged in his serrice, as hie court painter 
— peihapB the best substitnte for Baphael in point of 
original genins then to be obtained by offers of gold or 
patronage. Fiunds I. was also most anxionij to attrnct 
Baphael to his court, and, not succeeding, ho dcsircil to 
have a picture by his hand, leaving him the choice of 
subject. As Baphael had choaen St. George as the fittest 
snbject for the Ring of England, he now, with equal 
propriety and taste, chose St. Michael, the patron saint 
of the most celebrated military order in France, as likely 
to be the most acceptable subject for the French king, 
and represented the archangel as victorious over the 
Spirit of EviL The figurea are aa large as life. St, 
Michael, beaming with angelic beauty and power, stands 
with one foot on the Evil One, and raises hie lance to 
thrust him down to the deep. Satan is so represented 
that very little of his hideons and prostrate form is 
visible, the grand victorious Spirit filling the whole 
canvas and the eye of the spectator. The king expressed 


his satisfaction in a right royal and graceful fashion, and 
rewarded the artist munificently. Raphael, considering 
himself overpaid, and not to be outdone in generosity, 
sent to the king his famous Holy Family (called the 
large Holy Family, because the figures are life-size), in 
which the infant Christ is seen in act to spring from 
the cradle into his mother's arms, while angels scatter 
flowers from above. Engravings and copies without 
number exist of this famous picture : the original is in 
the gallery of the Louvre. Raphael sent also his St. 
Margaret overcoming the Dragon, a compliment appa- 
rently to the king's favourite sister, Margaret, queen of 
Navarre : this also is in the Louvre. AVhen they were 
placed before Francis I. he ordered his treasurer to 
count out twenty- four thoiisand livres (about 3000/. 
according to the present value of money), and sent it to 
the painter with the strongest expressions of liis appro- 
bation. At a later ponotl he purchased the beautiful 
portmit of Joanna of Arragon, vice-queen of Naples, 
which is also in the Louvre. 

About the same period (that is, between 1517 and 
1520) Raphael painted for the convent of St. Sixtus at 
Piacenza one of the grandest and most celebrated of all 
his works, called, from its original destination, the 
Madonna di San Sisto. It represents the Virgin standing 
in a majestic attitude ; the infant Saviour enthroned in 
her arms ; and around her head a glory of innumerable 
cherubs melting into light. Kneeling before her we see 
on one side St. Sixtus, on the other St. Barbara, and 
beneath her feet two heavenly cherubs gaze up in ado- 
ration. In execution, as in design, this is probably the 

CHARITY, oTtlr Ripbul. 


most perfect picture in the vrorU. It is painted through- 
otit by Kaphael's own liaod ; and as no tjketch or study 
of any part of it was ever known to exist, and an the 
execution must have been, from the thicness and delicacy 
of the colours, wonderfully rapid, it is euppoKcd that ha j 
painted it at once on the canvas — a creation rather than 
a picture. In the beginning of the last century the 
Elpotor of Sasony, Augnetus IH., purchased this pictnra 
fi-i>m the monkd of the convent for the snm of sixty 
thousand florina (about COOO/.), and it now forms tha i 
chief boast and ornament of the Dresden Gallery.* 

For hiH patron Agoatino Chigi, Raphael painted in i 
fresco the histoiy of Cupid and Psychu. Tlie palacfl f 
whieli belonged to tJio Chigi family is now the Villa ^ 
Famcaina, on the walls of which these famous frescoes ' 
may still be seen invery good preservation. InGnmer'a 
admirable work on the ' Decoration of the Falacee and 
Churches in Italy ' there is a perspoctive view of the 
saloon in the Famesina, showing how this beautiful 
scries of compositions is arranged on the ceiling and 
walls. In the same palace he paint«d tho Triumph of 
latea : in this fresco he was greatly assisted by Oiulio ■ 

H^ Duri 

During the last ten years of bis life the fame of | 
Raphael was very much extended hy means of th« en- i 

* The engnving by MiUler is celebrated; but good unpreuloiH 
nre now oltrBiiiely nire, thepUta httviog beeu often retouched. Th* 
eagraviiiR by Steiola U not lew Sue — nuperior, perhaps, in (he b(«d J 
of the VirgiD— »nd may ba more eajily procured. Tliere ia nlso i 
good and futhful lithograph by Hufslaugel. mid hundred* of ludif- | 
ferent Mid bod engniTUig*, ot oil aitta. One of the uvnt i 
French priot by Deauoyon. 


graver Marc Antonio Baimondi, who, after stadying 
design in the school of Francia at Bologna, betook him- 
self to Borne, and gained the admiration and goodwOl 
of Baphael by the perfect engravings he made from some 
of his beautiful works. Marc Antonio lived for some 
time in Kaphaers own house, and engraved for him and 
under his direction most of those precious and exquisite 
compositions, the most wonderful creations of the mind 
of Baphael, of which there exist no finished pictures, 
and in some cases no drawings nor memoranda. .Among 
these may be mentioned a few which are to be found in 
the Print-room of the British Museum : — 1 . The Lucretia, 
a single figure, wonderfully beautiful. 2. The Massacre 
of the Innocents. 3. Eve presenting to Adam the for- 
bidden fruit. 4. The Last Supper. 5. The Mater Dolo- 
rosa, the Virgin lamenting over the dead body of our 
Saviour. C. Another of the same subject, containing 
several figures. These are only a few of the most pre- 
cious, for within the present limits it is impossible to go 
into detail. Some time after the death of Baphael, Marc 
Antonio was very deservedly banished from Rome by 
Clement VII. Tempted by gold, he had lent his un- 
rivalled skill to shamcfid purposes. According to Mal- 
vasia, he was afterwards assassinated at Bologna. 

The last great picture which Baphael undertook, and 
which at the time of his death was not quite completed, 
was the Transfiguration of our Saviour on Mount Tabor. 
This picture is divided into two parts. The lower part 
contains a crowd of figures, and is fall of passion, 
energy, action. In the centre is the demoniac boy, 
convulsed and struggling in the arms of his father. 

Xmn 1520.} 


255 I 

Two women, kneeling, imploi^ a£«ii~taiice ; othei's are 
Been crying aloud and Rtrotcbing out their anus for aid. 
In the disciples of Jesus we aeo eiliibited, in varioua 
shades of expression, astoiusbnieDt, liorror, Bynipalhy, 
profoiuiil thought. One among them, with a benign. 
and youthful conntenonce, looks compaexionately on the 
btber, pbiinly intimutiug tliat be cun give no belp^ 
The npper part of the piotnre repreaents Mount Tabor: 
the three apostles lie prostrate, dazzleil, on the earth ; 
above them, transfigured in glory, floatfl the divine form 
of the Saviour, with Moses and Glias on either side. 
" The twofold action contained in this picture, to 
which shallow critics have taken exception, is explained 
hifltorically and satisfectorily merely by the fact that 
the incident of (he jiossesscd boy occurred in the ab- 
sence of Chrifit : but it explains itself in a still higher ' 
sense, when we consider tbe deeper universal meaning, 
of the picture. For this purpose it is not oven neces- 
ury to uooeuit the books of the Xow Testament for the 
cxptanatiou of the particular incidents : the lower poF> 
tion represents the calamities and miseries of human 
hfo, the mle of demoniac jwwer. the weakness even of 
the ^tbtnl when unassisted, and directs them to look 
on high for aid and etrcngth in adversity. Above, in 
the brightnosH of divine bliss, undisturbed by the snffer- 
ii^ of the lower world, we behold the source c 
tolation and of our I'edemption &om evil." 
At this time the lovers of painting at Borne 
Ided in opinion as to the relative merits of Miohi 
ind Kapbael, and formed two great parties, thi 
C Baphael boii^ by far the most numerous. 



Mibhael Angelo, with characteristic haughtiuess, dis- 
dained any open rivaliy with Raphael, and put forward 
the Venetian, Sebastian del Piombo, as no unworthy 
competitor of the great Boman painter. Baphael bowed 
before Michael Angelo, and, with the modesty and can- 
dour which belonged to his chaiucter, was heard to 
thank Heaven that he had been bom in the same age 
and enabled to profit by the grand creations of that 
sublime genius: but he was by no means inclined to 
yield any supremacy to Sebastian; he knew his own 
strength too well. To decide the controversy, the Car- 
dinal Giulio de' Medici, afterwards Pope Clement VII., 
commissioned Kaphacl to paint this picture of the Trans- 
figuration, and at the same time commanded from Sebas- 
tian del Piombo the Raising of Lazarus, which is now 
in our National Gallery ; both pictures were intended by 
the cardinal for his cathedral at Narbonne, he having 
lately been created Archbishop of Narbonne by Francis I. 
Michael Angelo, well aware that Sebastian was a far 
better colourist than designer, furnished him with the 
cartoon for his picture, and, it is said, drew some of the 
figures (that of Lazarus, for example) with his own 
hand on the panel ; but he was so far from doing this 
secretly, that Raphael heard of it, and exclaimed joy- 
fully, ** Michael Angelo has graciously favoured me, in 
that he has deemed me worthy to compete with himself, 
and not with Sebastian ! " But he did not live to enjoy 
the triumph of his acknowledged superiority, dying 
before he had finished his picture, which was afterwards 
completed by the hand of Giulio Romano. 

During the last years of his life, and while engaged 



in painting die Tnuisfigunitiou, Itaphocl's aclivo mil 
Was emjiloved on maur otber tliingif. He hod beeu h 
pointed br the pope to so i>c tin tend tlie building of St. . 
Peter's, and he prepared the architectural plans for liutn 
vast undertaking. He was most active niid zeakiui 
earrring out the popp's project for disinterring and pr»>l 
©erring the remains of art wliich laj- buried beneath tl 
ruins iifsncient Rome. A letter is yet extant addressed'! 
by Raphael to Pope Leo X., in which he lays down »1 
BVHtcTnatic. well-considered plan for excavating by de- i 
grt-es the whole of the ancient city ; and a writer of ■ 
that time has left a Latin epigram to this purpose— '4 
that Kaphael had sought and found in Rome ' 
Jloi'it i" " To seek it," adds the poet, '* was worthy of H 
great man ; to reveal it, worthy of a god." lie alatf| 
made several drawings and models for sculpiv 
licuUrly for a etatue of Jonah, now in the church of ^ 
Sauta Uaria del Popolo. The beautiful group of the 
Dmd Child and the Dolj>hin is also attributed to him. 
Sor was this all. With a princely magnificence he had 
sent artists at his own cost to various pads of Italy a 
into (jiecce, to make drawings from thor>e remains o£'fl 
antiquity which his nuraerons and important avocationi 
prevented him from visiting himself. He was in closed 
intimacy and correspundeneo with most of the celebrate 
men of his time ; interested himself in all that was goin| 
forward ; mingled in society, lived in splendour, i 
was always ready to assist generously his own familjrj 

the pupils who had gathered round him. 

ioal Itibbienn offered him his niece in marriagO|^ 

^^ t 


with a dowiy of three thousand gold crowns ; but tho 
early death of Maria di Bibbiena prevented this Qoion, 
for which it appears that Raphael himself had no groat 
inclination. In possession of all that ambition could 
desire, for him the cup of life was still running over 
with love, hope, power, glory — when, in the very prime 
of manhood, and in the midst of vast undertakings, ha 
was seized with a violent fever, caught, it is said, in 
superintending some subtcrranecm excavations, and ex- 
pired after an illness of fourteen days. His death took 
place on Good Friday (his birthday), April 6, 1520, 
having completed his thirty -seventh year. Great was 
the grief of all classes ; unspeakable that of liis friends 
and scholars. The pope had sent ever^' day to inquire 
after liis health, adding tho most kind and cheering 
messages ; and when told tliat the beloved and admired 
painter was no more, he broke out into lamentations on 
his own and the world's loss. The body was laid on a 
bed of state, and above it was suspended the last work 
of that divine hand, the glorious Transfiguration. From 
his own house, near St. Peter's, a multitude of all ranks 
followed the bier in sad procession, and his remains 
were laid in the church of the Pantheon, near those of 
his betrothed bride, Maria di Bibbiena, in a spot chosen 
by himself during liia lifetime. 

Several years ago (in the year 1833) there arose 
among the antiquarians of Rome a keen dispute concern- 
ing a human skull, which, on no evidence whatever, 
except a long-received tradition, had been preserved 
and exhibited in the Academy of St. Luke as the skull 


of Raphael. Some even expressed a doubt as to the 
exact place of his sepulchre, though upon this point the 
oontemporaiy testimony seemed to leave no room for 
uncertainty. To ascertain the fact, permission was ob- 
tained from the papal government, and from the canons 
of the church of the Hotunda (t. e, of the Pantheon), to 
make some researches ; and on the 14th of September 
in the same year, after five days spent in removing the 
pavement in several places, the remains of Eaphael were 
discovered in a vault behind the high altar, and certified 
as his by indisputable proofs. After being examined, 
and a cast made from the skull and from the right hand, 
the skeleton was exhibited publicly in a glass case, and 
multitudes thronged to the church to look upon it. On 
the 18th of October, 1833, a second funeral ceremony 
took place. The remains were dei)osited in a pine- wood 
coffin, then in a marble sarcophagus, presented by the 
pope (Gregory XV J.), and reverently consigned to their 
former resting-place, in presence of more than three 
thousand spectators, including almost all the artists, the 
officers of government, and other persons of the highest 
rank in Eome. 

Besides his grand compositions from the Old and 
Xew Testament and his frescoes and arabesques in the 
Vatican, Eaphael has left about one hundred and twenty 
pictures of the Virgin and Child, all various — only re- 
sembling each other in the peculiar type of chaste and 
maternal loveliness which he has given to the Virgin, 
and the infantine beauty of the Child. The most cele- 


brated of his Madonnaa, in the order in which they weie 
painted, are : — 1. The Madonna di Foligno, in the 
Vatican. 2. The Madonna of the Fish, at Madrid. 
3. The Madonna del Cardellino, at Florence. 4. Tbe 
Madonna di San Sisto, at Dresden. 5. The Madonna 
called the Pearl, at Madrid. Eight of his Madonna 
pictures are in England, in private galleries. 

There are but few pictures taken from mythology 
and profane history, the Cupid and Psyche and the 
Oalatea being the most important ; but a vast number 
of drawings and compositions, some of them of con- 
summate beauty. 

lie painted about eighty portraits, of which the most 
famous are Julius II. ; Loo X. (the originals of both 
these are at Florence) ; Cardinal Bibbiena ; Cardinal 
Bembo ; and Coimt Castiglione (the last at Paris) : the 
Youth with his Violin, in the Sciarra Palace, at Rome ; 
Bindo Altoviti (supposed for a long time to be his own 
portrait), now at Munich ; the beautiful Joanna of 
Arragon, in the Louvre. The portrait called the For- 
narina had long been supposed to represent a young girl 
to whom Eaphael had attached himself soon after his 
arrival in Home ; but this appears very doubtful ; Passa- 
vant supposes it to represent Beatrice Pio, a celebrated 
improvisatrice of that time. Besides these we have 
seventeen architectural designs for buildings, public 
and private, and several designs for sculpture, orna- 
ments, <fec. But it is not any single production of his 
hand, however rarely beautiful, nor his superiority in 
any particular department of art ; it is the number and 


- 1 

DiKD 1520.] 



the variety of his crcatioDs, the union of inexhaustible 
fertility of imagination with excellence of every kind — 
Realties never combined in the same degree in any 
artist before or since — which have placed Eaphael at 
the head of his profession, and have rendered him the 
wonder and delight of all ages. 

We shall now proceed to give an account of some of 
Raphaers most jGEunous scholars. 

( 262 ) 


We have already had occasion to observe the greit 
number of scholars, some of them older than himaelt 
who had assembled roimd Eaphael, and the unusoil 
harmony in which they lived together ; Vasari relates 
that, when ho went to conrt, a train of fifty paintere 
attended on him from his o^\'n house to the Vatican. 
They came from everj- part of Italy ; from Florence, 
Milan, Venice, Bologna, Fen-am, Naples, and even from 
beyond the Alps, to study under the great Roman 
master. Many of them assisted, with more or less skill, 
in the execution of his great works in fresco ; some 
imitated him in one thing, some in another; but the 
unrivalled charm of Raphael's productions lies in the 
impress of the mind which produced them ; this he 
could not impart to others. Tliose who followed ser- 
vilely a particular manner of conception and drawing, 
which they called '* Raphael's stj'le," degenerated into 
insipidity and littleness. Those who had original 
power deviated into exaggerations and perversities. 
Not one among them approached him. Some caught a 
faint reflection of his grace, some of his power; but 
they turned it to other purposes ; they worked in a 
different spirit ; they followed the fashion of the hoiu*. 


Wliile lie lived, his noble aims elevated them, but when 
he died they fell away one after another. The lavish 
and magnificent Pope Leo X. was succeeded in 1521 
by Adrian VI., a man conscientious, even to severity, 
sparing even to asceticism, and without any sympathies 
either for art or artists ; during his short pontificate of 
two years all the works in the Vatican and St. Peter's 
were suspended ; the poor painters were starving ; and 
the dreadful pestilence which raged in 1523 drove many 
from the city. Under Clement VII., one of the Medici, 
and nephew of Leo X., the arts for a time revived ; but 
the sack of Rome by the barbarous soldiery of Bourbon 
in 1527 completed the dispersion of the artists who had 
flocked to the capital: each, returning to his native 
country or city, became also a teacher ; and thus what 
was called ** Raphaers School," or the ** Roman School," 
was spread from one end of Italy to the other. 

Raphael had left by his will his two favourite scholars, 
Gian Francesco Penni and Giulio Romano, as executors, 
and to them he bequeathed the task of completing his 
unfinished works. 

GiAX Francesco Penni, called 11 Fattore, was his be- 
loved and confidential pupil, and had assisted him 
much, particularly in preparing his cartoons ; but evor}'- 
thing he executed from his own mind and after Raphael's 
death has, AWtn much tenderness and llaffaelesque grace, 
a sort of feebleness more of mind than hand ; his pictures 
are very rare. He died in 1528. 

His brother Luca Penni was in England for some 
years in the service of Henry VIII., and employed by 
A\'olsey in decorating his palace at Hampton Court ; 


some remains of his performances there were still tol 
seen in the middle of the last century ; but He 
\Valpole*s notion that Luca Penni executed thoee 
singular pictures, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, 
Battle of the Spurs, and the Embarkation of He&ij| 
VIII., appears to be quite unfounded. 

Giulio Pippi, sumamed from the place of hisbirtlilll 
Komano, and generally styled Giulio Eomano, was ikij 
much beloved by Raphael, and of all his scholan tt|i 
most distinguished for original power. While under 
the influence of llaphaers mind, he imitated hismamwr 
and copied his pictures so successfully, that it is some- 
times difficult for the best judges to distinguish the dif- 
ference of hand. The Julius II. in our National Galleiy 
is an instance. After Raphaers death he abandoned 
himself to his own luxuriant genius. He lost the sim- 
plicity, the grace, the chaste and elevated feeling which 
had characteiised his master. He became strongly em- 
bued with the then reigning taste for classical and 
mythological subjects, which ho tieated not exactly in a 
chissical spirit, but with great lx)ldness and fire, both in 
conception and execution. He did not excel in religions 
subjects : if ho had to paint the Virgin, he gave her the 
air and form of a commanding Juno ; if a Saviour, he 
was like a Roman emperor ; the apostles in his pictures 
are like heathen philosophers; but when he had to deal 
with gods and Titans ho was in his element. 

For four years after the death of Baphael he was 
chiefly occupied in completing his master's unfinished 
works ; at the end of that time he went to Mantna and 
entered the service of the Duke Gonzaga, as painter and 


architect. He designed for him a splendid palace called 
the Palazzo del Te, which he decorated ¥dth frescoes 
in a grand but coarse style. In one saloon he repre- 
sented Jupiter Yanquishing the giants ; in another, the 
history of Psyche : everywhere we see great luxuriance 
of fancy, wonderful power of drawing, and a bold large 
style of treatment ; but great coarseness of imagination, 
red heavy colouring, and a pagan rather than a classical 

In character Giulio Eomano was a man of generous 
mind ; princely in his style of living ; an accomplished 
courtier, yet commanding respect by a lofty sense of his 
own dignity as an artist. He amassed great riches in 
the service of the Duke Gonzaga, and spent his life at 
Mantua : his most important works are to be foimd in 
the palaces and churches of that city. 

When Charles I. purchased the entire collection of 
the Dukes of Mantua in 1629, there were among them 
many pictures by Giulio Homano ; one of these was the 
admirable copy of Raphaers fresco of the battle between 
Constantino and Maxentius, now in the guard-room at 
Hampton Court ; in the same gallery are seven others, 
all mythological, and characteristic certainly, but by 
no means favourable specimens of his genius; they 
have besides been coarsely painted over by some re- 
storer, so as to retain no trace of the original workman- 
F.hip. The most important picture which came into the 
possession of King Charles was a Nativity, a large altar- 
piece, which after the king's death was sold into 
France : it is now in the Louvre (293). A very pretty 
little picture is the Venus persuading Vulcan to forge 


the arrowB of Cupid; also in the Lonvre (206), from 
which tho group of Cupide in the illustration has l»eii 
taken. Engravings ailcr Giulio Honiano are vcrjr com- 
monly met n-ith. 

Oinlio Romano was invited by Francis I, to nndoHak; 
the docofiition of fais palace at Fontainebleau, but, not 
being able to leave Mantua, be sent his pupil Prims- 
ticcio, who covered the walls with frescoes and an- 
besquofl, much in tho maonor of thoHo in the Polauo 
del To ; thai is to say, with gods and goddossBS, fauna, 
satyrn, uym|)hs, Cupids, Cyclops, Titans, in a stylo u 
roQiolu from that of Knphael as oau well be imagiued, 
and yut not destitute of u certain grandeur. 

I'EtiMATiccio, SicojLo iiKL Abate, Itosso, and others who 
worked with them, are designated in tho history of ait 
as the " Fontaincbleau School," of which I'rimaticcio is 
cousidered tho chief. 

GiOVANSi DA UiiiNE, who esccllcd in painting animals, 
flowers, aud still life, was Itaphacl's chief assistant iu 
the famous arabeaqnes of tho Vatican. 

I'kuino del Vaoa, another of Raphael's schokre, 
carried his style to Genoa, whero he was chiellj- em- 
ployed ; and Aniirea ni Salerso, a far more cbanniog 
jMiinter, who was at Homo but a short time, has left 
many pictures at Naples, nearer to Raphael iu point of 
feeling tlian those of other scholars who hud stuihod 
under his eye for years: Andrea seems also to have 
been allied to his master in mind and character, for 
Raphael parted from him with deep regret. 

ToLiiiono Caluaka, called from the place of hi.s birtli 
I'olidoro da Carava^io, was a poor boy who had been 

ORotiP or rrriDs. •"" 










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^V -^'^'i 







'^SHo^^- ''-iifii 



^fe ' \, ' 







k muhj 








A ROMAS- cARaviNo r 


rouAK. ^^H 

-ft.T Pnlirtoro , 

J- C^n^Mti". 



employed by the fresco-painters in the Vatican to carry 
the wet mortar and afterwards to grind their colours : 
he learned to admire, then to emulate what he saw, and 
Baphael encouraged and aided him by his instructions. 
The bent of Polidoro's genius as it developed itself 
was a curious and interesting compound of his two 
vocations. He had been a mason, or what we should 
call a bricklayer's boy, for the first twenty years of his 
life. From building houses he took to decorating them, 
and from an early fEuniliarity with the remains of anti- 
quity lying around him, the mind of the uneducated 
mechanic became unconsciously imbued with the very 
spirit of antiquity ; not one of Haphael's scholars was so 
distinguished for a classical purity of taste as Polidoro. 
He painted, chiefly in chiaro'scuro (that is, in two 
colours, light and shade), friezes, composed of proces- 
sions of figures, such as we see in the ancient bas-roliefs, 
sea and river gods, tritons, bacchantes, fauns, satyrs, 
Cupids. At Hampton Court there are six pieces of a 
small narrow frieze, representing boys and animals, 
which apparently formed the top of a bedstead or some 
other piece of furniture ; these will give some faint idea 
of the decorative style of Polidoro. This painter was 
much employed at Naples, and afterwards at Messina, 
where he was assassinated by one of his servants for the 
sake of his money. 

Pellegrino da Modena, an excellent painter, and one 
of Raphael's most valuable assistants in his Scriptural 
subjects, carried the ** Koman School " to Modena. 

At this time there was in Ferrara a school of painterw 

N 2 


Tery peculiar in style, distinguished chiefly by extreme 
elegance of execution, a miniature-like neatness in the 
details, and deep, vigorous, contrasted colours — as in- 
tense crimson, vivid green, brilliant white, approxi- 
mated ; — a little grotesque in point of taste, and rather 
like the very early German school in feeling and 
treatment, but with more grace and ideality. Dosso 
Dossi and Battista Dossi of Ferrara were two brothers, 
whose fate has been peculiar ; for while during their 
lives they were divided by such a bitter and burning 
enmity that they would not speak to or look at each 
other, they were obliged to work together, are always 
named together, and it has become almost impossible to 
distinguish them in name or works. Ariosto mentions 
them simply as ** Due Dossi " — Two Dossi. Of a pic- 
ture in the Louvre (No. 185), tlie catalogue says that 
it is '^ positicenient Vouvra^je de Van des d^ux frcre^ Dosd; 
and all "writers on art find it diflBcult to allot their 
respective claims to pictures which bear tlie name. It 
seems that Battista Dossi excelled in landscape back- 
grounds, and had a thorough and poetical feeling for 
nature. Two fine pictures I remember, one in the 
Dresden Gallery (the Tredesti nation of the Virgin*), 
and one in the Borgheso Gallery (which is rich in 
pictures of the Ferrara school) representing Circe in a 
wild landscape. Tliis last I should attribute to Battista. 
That two beings so divided in life, who hated each other 
as only kindred hate, should be in their genius and in 
their renown so indivisible, is verj' striking. 
^ Anotlier of these Ferrarese painters, Benvenuto Ga- 

• See p. 148. 



ROFALO, studied for some time at Eome in the school of 
Raphael, but it does not appear that he assisted, like 
most of the other students, in any of his works. He 
was older than Raphael, and already advanced in his 
art before he went to Rome ; but while there he knew 
how to profit by the higher principles which were laid 
down, and studied assiduously ; with a larger, freer 
style of drawing, and a certain elevation in the expres- 
sion of his heads acquired in the school of Raphael, he 
combined the glowing colour which characterised the 
first painters of his native city. There is a small pic- 
ture by Qarofalo in our National Gallery, and also a 
picture by Mazzolino da Forrara, which will give some 
idea of this school, with its characteristic beauty of colour 
and singularity of treatment. 

Another painter who must not be omitted was Giulio 
Clovio. He was originally a monk, and began by imi- 
tating the miniatures in the illuminated missals and 
psalm-books used in the Church. He then studied at 
Rome, and was particularly indebted to Michael Angelo 
and Giulio Romano. His works are a proof that great- 
ness and correctness of style do not depend on size and 
space ; for into a few inches square, into the arabesque 
ornaments round a page of manuscript, he could throw 
a feeling of the sublime and beautiful worthy of the 
great masters of art. The vigour and precision of his 
drawing in the most diminutive figures, the imaginative 
beauty of some of his tiny compositions (for Giulio was 
no copyist), is almost inconceivable. His works were 
enormously paid, and executed only for sovereign 
princes and rich prelates. Fifteen years of his life were 


spent in the aerrioe of Pope Paul III. (1534-1549), for 
whom his finest prodnctionB were executed. He died 
in 1578, at the age of eighty. 

Besides the Italians, Innoc^iza da Imola, Timoteo 
della Yite of Bologna, and Andrea di Salerno of Naples, 
many painters came from beyond the Alps to place 
themselves under the tuition of Raphael ; among theee 
were Bernard Ton Orlay from Brossels ; Miohael Coxois 
from Mechlin ; and (George Penz from Nnrembeig. But 
the influence of Baphael's mind and style is notveiy 
apparent in any of these painters. 

On the whole we may say that, while Michael Angelo 
and Kaphaol displayed in all they did the inspiration of 
genius, thoir scholars and imitators inundated all Italy 
with mediocrity : — 

" Art with hollow forms waa fed, 
But the wri/ of art lay dead." 

( 271 ) 





WmLE the great painters of the Florentine school, with 
Michael Angelo at their head, were carrying out the 
principle of ybrm, and those of Eome — the followers 
and indtators of Raphael — were carrying out the prin- 
ciple of expression — and the first school deviating into 
exaggeration, and the latter degenerating into manner- 
ism — there arose in the north of Italy two extraordi- 
nary and original men, who, guided by their own 
individual genius and temperament, took up different 
principles and worked them out to perfection : one 
revelling in the illusions of chiaro'scuroj so that to him 
all nature appeared clothed in a soft transparent veil of 
lights and shadows; the other delighting in the luxu- 
rious depth of tints, and beholding all nature steeped 
in the glow of an Italian sunset. They chose each their 
world, and " drew after them a third part of heaven." 

Of the two, Giorgione appears to have been the most 
original — the most of a creator and inventor. Correggio 
may possibly have owed his conception of melting, 
vanishing outlines and transparent shadows, and his 
peculiar feeling of grace, to Lionardo da Vinci, whose 

272 CORREGGIO. [Bobk 1493. 

pictures were scattered over the whole of the north 
of Italy. Giorgione found in his own fervid melan- 
choly character the mystery of his colouring — ^wann, 
glowing, yet snbdned — and the noble yet tender senti- 
ment of his heads ; characteristics which, transmitted 
to Titian, became in colouring more sunshiny and bril- 
liant, without losing depth and harmony; and in expres- 
sion more cheerful, still retaining intellect and dignity. 
We will speak first of (Torreogio, so styled from bis 
birthplace, a small town not &r from Modena, now 
called Reggio. His real name was Antonio Allegri, 
and ho was bom towards the end of the year 1493. 
Raphael was at this time ten years old, Michael Angelo 
twenty, and Lionardo da Vinci in his fortieth year. 
The father of Antonio was Pellegrino Allegri, a trades- 
man possessed of moderate property in houses and land. 
He gave his son a careful education, and had him in- 
structed in literature and rhetoric, as well as in the 
rudiments of art, which he imbibed at a very early age 
from an imcle, Lorenzo Allegri, a painter of little merit. 
Afterwards he studied for a short time under Andrea 
Mantegna ; and although, when this painter died in 
1506, Antonio was but thirteen, he had so far profited 
by his instructions and those of Francesco Mantegna, 
who continued his father's school, that he drew well 
and caught that taste and skill in foreshortening which 
distinguished his later works; it was an art which 
Mantegna may almost be said to have invented, and 
which was first taught in his academy; but the dry, 
hard, precise, meagre style of the Mantegna school, 
Correggio soon abandoned for a manner entirely his 



273 J 

ovn, in wTik^h mtiveinent, variety, and, above all, the I 
moetdelieategmdation of light and shadow, are the prin- 
cipal elements. All these qualities arc appiu'ent in tha I 
earliest of tuB anthenticatMl pictureH, paititod in 1512, 
when he was about eighteen. It in one of the largo altar- 
pioora in ihe Dresden gallery, called the Madonna di I 
Swi FmncMco, becaiise St. Francis is one of the principal 1 
figures. The influence of the taste and manner of Lio- | 
niirdu da Vinci is very conKpicnouH in this picture. 

In ISlfl, having acquired some mputation and fortune 
in his profession, Oorreggio married Gii'olama Merlini 
ami in the following year, being tlten sis-and-twenty, 
ho WAS commissioned to paint in fresco the cupula of j 
the church of Sail Giovanni at Parma. He chose for I 
his subject the Afccneion of Christ, who in die centra ] 
appears soaring npwards into heaven, surromidcd by I 
the Twelve .tpostles, seated around on clouds, and who J 
Hppeor to bo watching his progress to the realms above; 
below are the fonr Evangelists in the four arches, with | 
the fonr Fathers of the Church. The figures in 
upper part are of co^irse colossal, and foreshortened 1 
with admirable skill, so as to produce a wonderful ] 
effect when viewed from below. In the apsis of the 1 
B church, over the high altar, ho painted the Coro- 1 
ion of the Virgin, bnt this was destroyed when the 1 
,8 subsequently onlai^cd, and is now only J 
. through engravings and the copies made by 
tiibal Carracci, which are preserved at Naples. For 
moB work Corre^io received five hundred gold crowns, 

1 to about 1500(. at the present day. 
K About til© year 1525 Correggio was invited to ^lantua, 
» 3 

274 CORREGGIO. [BoBS 149J. 

where he pninted for the reigning Dnke, Federigo Gon- 
zaga, iho Eilncation of Cupid, which ia uow in onr 
Xfttiniiul Gallery. For the same accomplished but 
prnfligiito princi) ho painted the other mjthological 
pttirics (if In, Leilft, Danai;, and Antiope.* 

Piisniii^ ovor, for tho present, a variety of works which 
Correp^id p.iinted in tho next four or five yeats, we 
shall only (lllscr^■o that the cnpola of San Giovanni 
guTc BO much satisfaction that he was called upon to 
duonniti' ill tho same manner tho cnthedral of Parma, 
wtiicli IK dcilirat^'d to tlie Vii^in Mary. In the centre 
iif till, d'imi' ln! rfprosenfwi tho AsmimptioD — tho Ma- 
il. miiiL KiiiLiiiig into heaven, while Christ doscendti from 
his lliroui' in Miss to mc^t her: an innnmciablo host 
of Kiiiiits ;uid iiiigelM, rojoioiiig and singing hymns of 
fi-ininiili. siirrtiiind those principal personages. Lower 
(luwn ill :i I'iruU- stiind the Apostles, and, lower still, 

DttD 1534.] CARTOOKS. 

•re aeveral eDgravings of this magnificent work ; bnt 
those who woTild form a jiist idea of Correggio's sub- 
lime ooncept.ion and power of drawing Bhould » 
of the cartoons prepared for the frescoes and drawn in 
chalk by his own hand. A few of these, representing 
chioflT angels and diombim, were discovered a few 
years ^o at Parma, tolled up in a garret : they were 
ooDTeyod to Borne, thence bronght to England by Dr. 
Emil Braiiu, and are now in the British Museum, having 
been lately purchaMed by tho trustees. These beads 
aoid forms arc gigantic, nearly twice the size of life ; 
7«t such is the excellence of the drawing, and the 
perfect grat* and swoetnese of the ospreBsion, that they 
strike the fiincy as sublimely beautiful, without giving 
the sli^tcst impression of exaggeration or effort. Our 
artists who are preparing cartoons for works on a laige 
scale conld have no finer studies than these grand frt^- 
ments, emanations of the mind and creations of the 
hand of one of the most distinguished masters in art. 
They show his manner of setting to work, and are in 

K respect an invaluable lesson to young painters. 
OTeggio finished the dome of the cathedral of Paima 
530, and relumed to his native town, whore lie 
e<l for the remainder of his life. We find that in 
the year 1 533 he was one of the witnesses to a mnrriage 
which was celebrated in the castle of Corre^^o, between 
Ippolito, Lord of Corre^o (son of Veronica Gambara, 
the illustrious poetess, who was the widow of Ghiberto 
da Correggio), and Chiara da Correggio, his cousin. 
I^pe^o's presence on this occasion, and his signature 
^Hk marriage-deed, prove the estimatiou in which he 

276 CORREGTtIO. [BoBsr 14IL 

was held by his sovereigns. In the following year 1m 
had engaged to paint for Alberto Panciroli an alttt- 
piece ; the subject fixed upon is not known, but it k 
certainly known that he received in advance, and befcm 
his work was commenced, twenty-five gold crowns. It 
was destined never to be begun, for soon after signing 
this agreement Correggio was seized with a malignant 
fever, of which he died after a few days' illness, March 
5, 1534, in the forty-first year of his age. He wm 
buried in his family sepulchre in the Franciscan con- 
vent at Correggio, and a few words placed over his 
tomb merely record the day of his death, and his name 
and profossion — " Makstro Axtonio Alucori, depixtore." 
There is a tradition that Correggio was a self-educated 
painter, unasBisted except by his own transcendent 
genius ; that ho lived in great obscurity and indigence ; 
and that ho was ill rcmunorate<l for his works. And it 
is further related, that, having been paid in copper coin 
a sum of sixty crowns for one of his pictures, ho carried 
homo this load in a sack on his shoulders, being anxious 
to relievo the wants of his family ; and stopping, when 
heated and wearied, to refresh himself with a draught 
of cold water, ho was seized with a fever, of which he 
died. Though this tradition has been proved to be false, 
and is completely refuted by the circimistances of the 
last years of his life related above, yet the impression 
that Correggio died miserably and in indigence pre- 
vailed to a late period.* From whatever cause it arose, 
it was early current. Annibal Carracci, writing fi^m 

♦ The popular tradition of the death of Correggio ib the subject 
of a very beautiful tragedy by CEhlenschlager. 


Fuina fifiy years after the death of Correggio, says, " I 
nge and weep to think of the fate of this poor Antonio; 
•0 great a man — if, indeed, he were not rather an angel 
in {he flesh — ^to be lost here, to live unknown, and 
to die unhappily !" Now he who painted the dome of 
tlie cathedral of Parma, and who stood by as one of the 
chosen witnesses of the marriage of his sovereign, could 
not have lived imknown and unregarded ; and we 
have no just reason to suppose that this gentle, 
amiable, and unambitious man died unhappily. With 
regard to his deficient education, it appears certain that 
he studied anatomy under Lombardi, a famous physician 
of that time, and his works exhibit not only a classical 
and cultivated taste, but a knowledge of the sciences — 
of optics, mathematics, perspective, and chemistry, as 
&r as they were then carried. His use and skilfnl pre- 
paration of rare and expensive colours imply neither 
poverty nor ignorance. His modest, quiet, amiable 
temper and domestic habits may have given rise to 
the report that he lived neglected and obscure in his 
native city; he had not, like other great masters of 
his time, an academy for teaching, and a retinue of 
scholars to spread his name and contend for the supre- 
macy of their master. Whether Correggio ever visited 
Rome is a point undecided by any evidence for or 
against, and it is most probable that he did not. It is 
said that he was at Bologna, where he saw Eaphael's 
8t Cecilia, and, after contemplating it for some time 
with admiration, he turned away, exclaiming, '* AtvcK io 
nmo pittore ! " (And I too am a painter !) — an anecdote 
which shows that, if imambitious and unpresuming, he 
was not without a consciousness of his own merit. 


wv/ixipioio. 1 no only st 
Allegri, became a pa 
great reputation, and i 
restless disposition. 

I will now give som 
His two greatest perfi 
Oiovanni and that of th 
mentioned. His smallei 
are dispersed througli & 

>t j: VUft ^^^ seldom met with ii 

•v "^ but, with few exceptions, 

'q.C public collections. 

In our National Goalie 
^g^o • two are studies o 
^ are not found in any of 

posed to have formed pari 
. ) Giovanni, which, as aln 

^ The other three are amoi 

The first, Mercury teachi 
sence of Venus, is an epit 

* V. 

u " 

'. -• -J 


Died 1534.] fflS WORKS. 279 

throngli the shadows into the substance, as it might be 
into the flesh and blood; the shadows seem mutable, 
acoidental, and aerial, as if between the eye and the 
colours, and not incorporated with them. In this lies 
the inimitable excellence of Correggio." • 

This picture was painted for Federigo Oonzaga, Duke 
of Mantua; it was brought to England in 1629, when 
the Mantua Gullery was bought by our Charles I., and 
hung in his apartment at Whitehall; afterwards it 
passed into the possession of the Duke of Alva ; then, 
during the French invasion of Spain, Murat secured it 
as his share of the plunder ; and his widow sold it to the 
Marquess of Londonderry, from whom it was purchased 
by the nation. The Ecce Homo was purchased at the 
same time : it is chiefly remarkable for the fine head of 
the Virgin, who faints with anguish on beholding the 
suflering and degradation of her Son ; the dying away 
of sense and sensation under the influence of mental 
pain is expressed with admirable and affecting truth: 
the rest of the picture is perhaps rather feeble, and 
the head of Christ not to bo compared to one crowned 
with thorns which is in* the possession of Lord Cowper, 
nor with another in the Bridgewater collection. The 
third picture is a small but most exquisite Madonna, 
known as the Vierge au Panier^ from the little basket in 
front of the picture. The Virgin, seated, holds the in- 
tuit Christ on her knee, and looks down upon him with 
the fondest expression of maternal rapture, while he 
gazes up in her £Etce : Joseph is seen in the background. 

♦ « Public Galleries of Art/ Murray, 1841 ; in which there is a 
history of the picture, too loug to be inserted here. 


This, though callod a Holy Family, is a simple do- 
mestic scene ; and Correggio probably in this, as in 
other instances, made the original study from his wife 
and child. Another picture in onr gallery ascribed 
to Correggio, the Christ on the Mount of Olives, is 
a Tory fine old copy, perhaps a duplicate, of an ori- 
ginal picture now in the poaseesion of the Duke of 

In the gallery of Parma are five of the most important 
and beautiful pictures of Correggio. The most cele- 
brated is that called the St Jerome. It represents the 
saint presenting to the Virgin and Child his translation 
of the Scriptures, while on the other side the Magdalen 
bends duyrn and kisses with devotion the feet of the 
infant Saviour. 

Tlie Dresden Gallery is also rich in pictures of Cor- 
reggio : it contains six pictures, of which four are large 
altarpicces, bought out of churches in Modcna ; among 
these is the famous picture of the Nativity, called the 
Notte, or Nu/ht, of Correggio, because it is illuminated 
only by the unearthly splendour which beams round the 
head of the infant Saviour ; and the still more famous 
Magdalene, who lies extended on the ground intently 
reading the Scriptures. No picture in the world has 
been more universally admired and multiplied through 
copies and engravings than this little picture. 

In the Florence Gallery are three pictures ; one of 
them, the Madonna on her knees, adoring with ecstacy 
her Infant, who lies before her on a portion of her gar- 
ment, is given in our illustration. 

In the Louvre are two of his works — the Marriage 

Died 1534.] HIS IMITATORS. 281 

of St. Catherine, and the Antiope, painted for the Duke 
of Mantua. 

In the Naples Gallery there are three ; one of them a 
most lovely Madonna, called, from the peculiar head- 
dress, the Zingarella, or Gipsy. 

In the Vienna Gkllery are two ; and at Berlin three — 
among them the lo and the Leda. 

There are in the British Museum a complete collec- 
tion of engravings after Correggio, and a great number 
of bia original drawings. 

Correggio had no school of painting, and all his 
anthentio works, except his frescoes, were executed 
solely by his own hand : in the execution of his frescoes 
he had assistants, but they could hardly be called his 
pupils. He had, however, a host of imitators who formed 
what has been called the School of Parma, of which he 
is considered the head. The most famous of these imi- 
tators was Francesco Mazzola, of whom we are now to 


Born 1503, pikd 1540. 

FPw.vncbsco Mazzola, or Mazzuou, called Parmiglvno, and, 
by the Italians, II Parmigianino (to express by this en- 
dearing diminutive the love as well as the admiration 
he inspired even from his boyhood), was a native of 
Parma, bom on the 11th of January, 1503. lie had 
two uncles who were painters, and by them he was earl^' 
initiated into some knowledge of designing, though he 
could have owed little else to them, both being very 

282 PARMIGIANO. [Bobs 1501 

mediocre artiRts. Endowed with a most precocdota 
genius, ardent in every pursuit, he studied indefiatig- 
ablj, and at the age of fourteen he produced a pictoze 
of the Baptism of Christ, wonderful for a boy of his agSi 
exhibiting even thus early much of that easy grace whioli 
he is supposed to have learned from Correggio; hot 
Correggio had not then visited Parma. When he arrived 
there four years afterwards, for the purpose of paintmg 
the cupola of San Giovanni, Francesco, then only 
eighteen, was selected as one of his assistants, and h» 
took this opportunity of imbuing his mind with a style 
which certainly had much analogy with his own taste 
and character : Parmigiano, however, had too much 
genius, too much ambition, to follow in the footsteps of 
another, however great. Though not great enough him- 
self to be first in that age of greatness, yet, had his rivals 
and contemporaries been less than giants, he must have 
overtopped them all ; as it was, feeling the impossibility 
of rising above such men as Michael Angelo, Eaphael, 
Correggio, yet feeling also the consciousness of his own 
power, ho endeavoured to be original by combining what 
has not yot been harmonised in nature, therefore could 
hardly succeed in art — the grand drawing of Michael 
Angelo, the antique grace of Raphael, and the melting 
tones and sweetness of Correggio. Perhaps, had he been 
satisfied to look at nature through his own soul and eyes, 
he would have done better; had he trusted himself more, 
he would have escaped some of those faults which have 
rendered many of his works unpleasing, by giving the 
impression of effort, and of what in art is called mannerism. 
Ambitious, versatile, accomplished, generally admired for 

rtED 1540.] VISITS ROME. 283 

his handsome person and graceful manners, Parmigiano 
would have been spoiled by vanity, if lie had not been 
a man of strong sensibility and of ahnost fastidious senti- 
ment and refinement ; when these are added to genius, 

the result is generally a tinge of that melancholy, of that 
dissatis&ction with all that is achieved or acquired, which 
seem to have entered largely into the temperament of 
this painter, rendering his character and life extremely 
interesting, while it strongly distinguishes him from the 
serenely mild and equal-tempered Baphael, to whom he 
was afterwards compared. 

"When Parmigiano was in his twentieth year ho set 
off for Homo. The recent accession of Clement VII., a 
declared patron of art, and the death of Haphael, had 
opened a splendid vista of glory and success to his ima- 
gination. He carried with him to Borne three pictures. 
One of these was an example of his graceful genius ; it 
represented the infant Christ seated on his mother's 
knee, and taking some fruit from the lap of an angel. 
The second was a proof of his wonderful dexterity of 
hand : it was a portrait of himself seated in his atelier 
amid his books and musical instruments ; but the whole 
scene represented on the panel as if viewed in a convex 
mirror. The third picture was an instcmce of the success 
with which ho had studied the magical effects of chiaro*- 
scuro in Correggio — torchlight, daylight, and a celestial 
light being all introduced without disturbing the har- 
mony of the colouring. This last he presented to the 
pope, who received both the young painter and his 
offering most graciously. He became a favourite at 
Borne ; and as he studiously imitated while there the 


works of Raphael, and resomblod bim in the eleguicai 
hu poison and manners and tho generoaity of his diipft 
sition, the poets complimented him by saying, or aii 
that tho late-lost and lamented Bapbael bad reviTed a 
tho likcncsH ni Parmigiano : we can now measure nun 
justly the distance which separated them. 

\Vbile at liome, Francesco was greatly patronised by 
the Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici, and painted for hiM 
several bcniitiful pictures; for the pope also, sevetal 
others, and thu portrait of a young captain of his guaid, 
I^renzo <'i!iii, which is siipjioscd to be the fine portiait 
now at Windsor. For a nublc lady, a certain Donm 
Itlaria niifTidini, ho painted a grand altar])it.>oo to adom 
the chajiel nf her fumily at Cittu di CastoUo, This u 
the celcbmteil Viwion of tit. Jerome, now in our Natioml 
Gallery i it represents tho Virgin holding a book, »ith 
the infant Christ leaning on her kneo, as seen above is 
a glory, whilo St. John tho BapliHt points to the celestial 
viition, and St, Jerome is seen asleep in the lackgronni 
Tins picture is an eminent example of all tbe bcantid 
and faiiltM of Parmigiano. The Madonna and tho ChiM 
are nioiWlH of dignity and grace; the drawing is con«ct 
and elogunt ; tho play of the lights and shadows, in deli- 
cate manngemcnt, worthy of Corre^io : on tho other 
hand, the altitude nf St. John the Baptist ih an attempt 
at singularity in drawing, which ie alti^tbcr forced and 
thcitrical ; while tho forcxhortened figure of St. JerosM 
in the background ie most riHcont/brtuNy distorted. Sot- 
witlmtanding these faults, the picture has a1n'a\'B been 
much celebrated. When tbe church in which it stood 
WHS destroyed by an earthquake, the picture was par- 

Dns 1540.] m? IViTtnTT. 

Aaaed &om among th« minK. Kud bft'jr«^>r'Jr -^ 
Har^Tiis of Abenxon far fifieoi liniicreL ri:iiL-:ti 
qoently it pamed throng tbe luoioi- ■£ ~r 
lecton, Ur. Hmrt Dstu ana 31;. '^'iis^.i. Tl; 
•■■ at lengQi pnrchawrd l^" tW qisilV-^tv jf il 
bntitntioii, and 'b;' ibetL p^ti^^m-y j,r'3i»L.'L^ 

It ii related that Bii>m£ wur T^ei. r' in^b^-' 
hged by the butoruitt ».>ilkrr of 'u>-. '_ .:^ 
Boarbon at the Ttrr tinit iLfc: J 
oik flus 7-ictm«. an! iLaT 1:^ ^ 
votIe, that he httri n -"-^^ ^ 
tin some scldien.. -witl i^ ii-^ 
Ua atelier. A? br rmi-l ? -::l 
tiis eaeel. tLev T^r* ?■■ ?^rT..i 
iroA,as»r-n a» :- -v. r;-^-_ 
Ihej- retb^J irhi. - : :lc 
another i-arn- ifi-rwii.- > — .s- : 
and Rfbl-e: ii=. :f aZ ir ; ■— ■ 
pOvertT. Lv 5e-i fr.::^ L ^-. 
cribable h:— _.-*. iz-i 7-:».:_i-I 

Bm 'i^ —•-- ' r-.^--- i-ai 
vQege. -ii: It ,^::r.-i^ t-.-I ^- 
of wb: t -: -iTil- -T-- :■■ 

ind Lis fi=.-:- '- i::: \j: .- 

etched ~:-^. ':r:ii:-r--, ^7 - 
tome to ^i--: hJi^-^j ------^■. 

k. rf o:rT:-i±^ 7 ii- - .- -t -_ 

286 PARMIGIAKO. [Borx 1503. 

art he was relieved from the immediate pressure of 
poverty, and very soon found himself, as a painter, in 
fuU employment. He executed at Bologna some of hu 
most celebrated works : the Madonna della Rosa of the 
Dresden Gallery, and the Madonna deW ooUo lungo (or 
long-necked Madonna) in the Fitti Palace at Florence; 
also, a famous altarpiece called the St. Margaret : of all 
these there are numerous engravings. 

After residing nearly four years at Bologna, Fanni- 
giano returned, rich and celebrated, to his native dtj. 
He reached Farma in 1531, and was immediately en- 
gaged to paiut in fresco a new church which had 
recently been erected to the honour of the Virgin Mar}-, 
and called the Steccata, Tliere wore, however, some 
delays on the side of his employers, and more on his 
own, and four years passed before ho set to work. 
Much indignation was excited by his dilatory conduct ; 
but it wiis appeased by the interference of his friend 
Francesco Boiardo, who offered himself as his surety 
for the completion of his undertaking within a given 
time. A new contract was signed, and Parmigiano 
thereupon presented to his friend his picture of Cupid 
framing his Bow, a lovely composition; so beautiful, 
that it has been again and again attributed to Correggio, 
and engraved under his name, but it is undoubtedly by 
Fanuigiano. Several repetitions of it were executed at the 
time, so much did it delight all who saw it. Engravings 
and copies likewise abound ; a veiy good copy is in the 
Bridgewater Gallery : the picture which is regarded 
as the original is in ihe gallery of the Belvedere at 

'. Died 1540.] HIS DEATH. 287 


At last he began liis works in the Steccata, and there 
' he executed his figure of Moses in act to break the 
Tables of the Law, and his Eve in act to pluck the 
forbidden fruit : the former is a proof of the height he 
oould aspire to in sublime conception; we have few 
examples in art of equal grandeur of character and 
drawing: the poet Gray acknowledged that when he 
pictured his Bard, — 

Loose his beard and hoary hair 

Streamed like a meteor on the troubled air,' 

he had this magnificent figure fuU in his mind. The 
Eve, on the other hand, is a perfect example of that 
peculiar grace in which Parmigiano excelled. 

After he had painted these and a few other figures in 
the church, more delays ensued. It is said by some 
that Parmigiano had wasted his money in gambling and 
dissipation, and now gave himself up to the pursuit of 
the philosopher's stone, with a hope of repairing his 
losses. One of his biographers has taken pains to dis- 
prove these imputations ; but that he was improvident, 
restless, and fond of pleasure, is admitted. Whatever 
might have been ihe cause, he broke his contract, and 
was thrown into prison. To obtain his freedom, he 
entered into a new engagement, but was no sooner at 
liberty than he escaped to the territory of Cremona. 
Here his constitutional melancholy seized him; and 
though he lived, or rather languished, long enough to 
paint some beautiful pictures, he died in a few jnonths 
afterwards, and was, at his own request, laid in the 
earth without any coffin or covering, only a cross of 
cypress-wood was placed on his breast. lie died just 

28S PARMlGLAliO. [Boux IML I 

twenty ycare ufter ICapliael, and at the same age, hating 

only completed liia tlmty-aeventli year. 

rannigiauo, iii his best picturea, ie one of the i 
fiificmaliugof paiuters — dignifii.'d, graceful, harmoaiDtu. 
Ilia children, Cupids, and augole, are, m general, e 
qtiUito ; liia portraile axe noble, and are perhaps hiti 
finest and most fiiultless productions — -the Maeea and 
thu Eve esoepted. It waa the error of Formigiano that 
iu Ntudying grace he was apt to deviate into affectation, 
and l>ociimD what the French call inaniere : all stadied 
^race is disagreeable. In bis female figures he length- 
cued the limbs, the ncchK, thu fingers, till the effect 
WHS nut grace, but a kind of stately feebleness ; and as 
hi; imitated at thi) same time the grand drawing and 
hirgu manner of Jlichael Angolo, the result conveys an 
im]iit'J'siun of something quite incougruoiis in nature 
mid iu lul. 'J'lieii his Sladonnas have in general a man- 

Died 1540.] HIS STYLE. 289 

giano are liable to the same censure. Annibal Carracci, 
in a fieunous sonnet, in which he pointed out what was 
most worthy of imitation in the elder painters, recom- 
mends, significantly, ** a little" of the grace of Parmi- 
giano ; thereby indicating, what we feel to be the tmth, 
that he had too much. 


Born 1478, died 1511. 

This painter was another great inventor; one of those 
who stamped his own individuality on his art. Ho was 
essentially a poet, and a subjective poet, who fused his 
own being with all he performed and created: — if 
Baphael be the Shakspere, then Giobgione may be styled 
the Byron, of painting. 

He was bom at Castel Franco, a small town in the 
territory of Treviso, and his proper name was Giorgio 
Barbarelli. Nothing is known of his family or of his 
younger years, except that, having shown a strong dis- 
position to art, he was brought, when a boy, to Venice, 
and placed tmder the tuition of Gian Bellini. As ho 
grew up he was distinguished by his tall noble figure 
and the dignity of his deportment ; and his companions 
called him Giorgione, or George the Great, by which 
nickname he has, after the Italian fashion, descended 
to posterity, 

Giorgione appears to have been endowed by nature 
with an intense love of beauty and a sense of harmony 
which pervaded his whole being. Ho was famous as a 

200 GIORGIONE. [BOBH 1471 

player and composer on the lute, to wliicli he song 
his own verses. In his works two characteristics pie- 
vail, sentiment and colour ; both tinged by the peculiar 
temperament of the man : the sentiment is noble, but 
melancholy, and the colour decided, intense, and Row- 
ing. His execution had a freedom, a careless masteiy 
of hand, or, to borrow the imtranslateable Italian word, 
a sprezzatuitiy unknown before his time. The idea that 
he founded his style on that of Lionardo da Yinci 
cannot be entertained by those who have studied the 
works of both : nothing can be more distinct in cha- 
racter and feeling. 

It is to bo regretted that of one so interesting in 
his cliaracter and his works we know so little ; yet 
more to be regretted that a being gifted with the 
passionate Ronwibility of a poet should have been em- 
ployed chiefly in decorative painting, and that too con- 
fined to the outsidos of the Venetian palaces. These 
creations have been destroyed by fire, ruined by time, 
or effaced by the damps of the Lagune. lie appears to 
have early acquired fame in his art, and we find him in 
1 504 employed, together with Titian, in painting with 
frescoes the exterior of the Fondaco dei Tedeschi (the 
hall of Exchange belonging to the German merchants). 
That part intrusted to Giorgione he covered with the 
most beautiful and poetical figures ; but the significance 
of the whole was soon after the artist's death forgotten ; 
and Vasari tells us that in his time no one could inter- 
pret it. It appears to have been a sort of arabesque on 
a colossal scale. 

Giorgione delighted in fresco as a vehicle, because 

Died 1511.] TRADITION OF HIS LIFE. 291 

it gave him ample scope for that largeness and freedom 
of outline which characterised his manner ; unhappily, 
of his numerous works, only the merest fragments 
remain. We have no evidence that he exercised his 
art elsewhere than at Venice, or that he ever resided 
out of the Venetian territory : in his pictures the heads, 
features, costumes, are all stamped with the Venetian 
character. He had no school, though, induced by his 
social and affectionate nature, he freely imparted what 
be knew, and often worked in conjunction with others. 
His love of music and his love of pleasure sometimes 
led him astray from his art, but were oftener his in- 
spirers : both are embodied in his pictures, particularly 
his exquisite pastorals and concerts, over which, how- 
ever, he has breathed that cast of thoughtfulness and 
profound feeling which, in the midst of harmony and 
beauty, is like a revelation or a prophecy of sorrow. 
All the rest of what is recorded concerning the life 
and death of Giorgione may be told in a few words. 
Among the painters who worked with him was Pietro 
Luzzo, of Feltri, near Venice, known in the history 
of art as Morto da Feltri, and mentioned by Vasari as 
the inventor, or rather reviver, of arabesque painting, 
in the antique style, which ho had studied amid the 
dark vaults of the Roman ruins. This Morto, as Ridolfi 
relates, was the friend of Giorgione, and lived under 
the same roof with him. He took advantage of Gior- 
gione*s confidence to seduce and carry off from his 
house a girl whom he passionately loved. AVounded 
doubly by the falsehood of his mistress and the trea- 
chery of his friend, Giorgione sank into despair, and 


292 GIORGIONE. [Bors 1478. 

Boon afterwards died, at the early age of thirty-three. 
Morto da Feltri afterwards fled from Venice, entered 
the army, and was killed at the battle of Zara in 1519. 
Such is the Venetian tradition. 

Giorgione's genuine pictures are very rarely to be 
met with ; of those ascribed to him the greater nnmlwr 
were painted by Pietro della Vecchia, a Venetian, wlio 
had a peculiar talent for imitating Giorgione's maimer 
of execution and style of colour. These imitations de- 
ceive picture dealers and collectors ; they could not for 
one moment deceive those who had looked into the 
feeling impressed on Giorgione's works. The only pic- 
ture which could have imposed on the true lover of 
Giorgione is that in Lord Ellesmere's Gallerv, the Four 
Ages, by Titian, in which the tone of sentiment as well 
as i\\Q manner of Giorgione are so happily imitated 
that for many years it was attributed to him. It was 
painted by Titian when he was the friend and daily 
companion of Giorgione, and under the immediate 
influence of his feelings and genius. 

AVo may divide the undoubted and existing pictures of 
Giorgione into three classes. 

I. The historical subjects, which are very uncommon ; 
such seem to have been principally confined to his 
frescoes, and have mostly perished. 

In the Academy of Venice is presers^ed a so-called 
historical picture, wildly poetical in conception. It 
commemorates a fact — a dreadful tempest which oc- 
curred in 1340, and threatened to overwhelm the whole 
city of Venice. In Giorgione's picture the demons are 
represented in an infernal bark exciting the tempest, 


^while St. Mark, St. Nicholas, and St. George, the patron 
saints of Venice, seated in a small vessel tossed amid 
the waves, oppose with spiritual arms the powers of 
hell, and prevail against them.* 

In oar National Gallery there is a small historical 
picture, the Death of Peter, the Dominican friar and in- 
quisitor, called St. Peter the Martyr, who was assassin- 
ated. This picture is not of much value, and a very 
inferior work of the master. 

Sacred subjects of the usual kind were so seldom 
painted by Giorgione, that there are not perhaps half a 
dozen in existence. 

II. There is a class of subjects which Giorgione re- 
presented with peculiar grace and felicity : they are 
in painting what idyls and lyrics are in poetry, and 
seem like direct inventions of the artist's own mind, 
though some are supposed to be scenes from Venetian 
tales and novels now lost. These generally represent 
groups of cavaliers and ladies seated in beautiful land- 
scapes under the shade of trees, conversing or playing 
on musical instruments. Such pictures are not unfre- 
quent, and have a particular charm, arising from the 
union of melancholy feeling with luxurious and festive 
enjoyment, and a mysterious allegorical significance 
now only to be surmised. In the collection of Lord 
Northwick, at Cheltenham, there is a most charming 
picture in this style : and in the possession of Mr. Cun- 
ningham there is another. To this class may also be 
referred the exquisite pastoral group of Jacob and Rachel 

♦ This is the legend of the Fisherman and the Ring, which is 
given at full length in * Sacred and Legendary Art,' 3rd edit., p. 151. 

294 GIORGIONE. [B0B5 1478. 

in the Dresden Grallery ; and the three Wise Men of the 
East watching for the Star, in the Belvedere at Yienna.* 
III. His portraits are magnificent They have all, 
with the strongest resemblance to general nature, a 
grand ideal cast ; for it was in the character of the man 
to idealise everything he touched. Very few of his 
portraits are now to be identified. Among the finest and 
most interesting may be mentioned his own portrait 
in the Munich Gallery, which has an expression of the 
profoundest melancholy. In the Imperial Gkillerj at 
Vienna — rich in his works — there is a picture repre- 
senting a young man crowned with a garland of vine- 
leaves; another comes behind him with a concealed 
dagger, and appears to watch the moment to strike : the 
expression in the two heads can never be forgotten by 
those who have looked on them. The fine }X)rtrait 
of a cavalier, with a page riveting his armour, is well 
known : it is in the possession of the Earl of Carlisle, 
and styled, \\4tliout much probability, Gaston de Foix. 
A beautiful little full-length figure in armour, now in 
the National Gallery, bears the same name; and is 
probably a study for a St. Michael or a St. George. 
Lord Byron has celebrated in some beautiful lines the 
impression made on his mind by a picture in the Man- 
frini Palace at Venice ; but the poet errs in styling it 
the ** portraits of Giorgione's son, and wife, and self." 
Giorgiono never had either son or wife. The picture 
alluded to represents a Venetian lady, a cavalier, and a 
page ; — portraits evidently, but the names are unknown. 

• Called the *' Astrologi** and " Die Feldmesser." Vide * Legend* 
of the Madonna,* 2nd edition, p. 222. 


The striking characteristic of all Giorgione's pictures, 
whether portraits, ideal heads, or compositions, is the 
inefiaoeahle impression they leave on the memory — the 
impiession of reality. In the apparent, simplicity of the 
xnettDS throngh which this effect is produced, the few yet 
splendid colours, the vigorous decision of touch, the 
depth and tenderness of the sentiment, they remind us 
of the old religious music — a few simple notes, long sus- 
tained, deliciously blended, swelling into a rich, full, 
and perfect hannony, and melting into the soul. 

Though Giorgione left no scholars, properly so called, 
he had many imitators, and no artist of his time exer- 
cised a more extensive and long-felt influence. He 
diffused that taste for vivid and warm colour which we 
see in contemporary and succeeding artists; and he 
tinged with his manner and feeling the whole Venetian 
school. Among those who were inspired by this power- 
ful and ardent mind may be mentioned Sebastian del 
Piombo, of whom some account has already been given ; 
Jacopo Palma, called Old Palma {Palma VeccJiio) ; Paris 
Bordone; Pordenone; and, lastly, Titian, the great 
representative of the Venetian school. The difference 
between Giorgione and Titian, as colourists, seems to be 
this, that the colours of Giorgione appear as if lighted 
up from within, and those of Titian as if lighted from 
without. The epithet fiery or glomng would apply to 
Giorgione; the epithet golden would express the pre- 
dominant hues of Titian. 

( 296 ) 

T 1 T I A X. 

IV'KN 1477. MF.D 157»?. 

TiziANO VKniLM was K^ni at ('adore in the FriuhV ."A 
di>trict t" the iiurth of Venice, where the ancieiitj 

• >f the Vl-cl-IH had been lung settled. There is 
thiii;^ verv amiisinLT •'ind characteristic in the first ii 
cation rt' his love vf art : for while it is recorded of < 
young anists tliat they tocik a piece of charcoal 
j.ioci.- t.-f 7«late t.» trace tlie images in their fancy, we 
T<>Id ttKi: thi- iiifnit Tiiiuii. with an instinctive feeUi. 
l^n-j-lit.-ri.- i-t' liis fiituiv ♦.•xotllence a^} a colourist, twt. 
til.' oxj'ii.'*>^.'l jiiiof of <.'jrtiiiu flowers to paint a figur 

• t'a M.t>l>ii]i:i. AVheu hr.' was a l>oy uf nine years old hi 
fath-.r (ir'\:"n<> oarrinl him t^ \'enice and placed hiL 
v.iuUt thi.- tiiiii'.'Xi c'f S«.l'a>Tiaii Ziiccato, a painter mi 
Wiirkor in inv'>.ii'\ lUy loft this sehool for that of thi 
Helliui. th-' fnemUhip and fellowship of Gioigioni 
seems oarlv t-' liivc awakouod his mind to new ideas ot 
art c-h'ur. AllM.-rt Purer, who was at Venice in 
I4\'4. a^ain in 1'»«'7. al>o intinenced him. At this 
time, wht.n Titian an-l < Ii«»rgi«'nL- wore youths of eighteen 
and niiKTot-n, thov livcil and w«.'rkLd together. It has 
been alreutly related that they were employed in paint- 
ing the fiese* es of the F'-nilae-.i dei Tedo>chi : the pre- 
ference I'eing given to Titian's i»erformance, which 
represented the .^^t^rv nf .fndith, caiiaod snch a jealonby 
between the twu friends, that thev cea>ed to reside to- 
gether ; but at this time and fur sume years after^'ards 


3ie inflnence of Giorgione on the mind coid the style of 
Fitiaii was snch that it became difficult to distinguish 
tlieir works ; and on the death of Giorgione, Titian was 
required to complete his unfinished pictures. This 
great loss to Venice and the world left him in the prime 
of life without a rival. We find him for a few years 
c^efly employed in decorating the palaces of the Vene- 
tian nobles, both in the city and on the maiuland. The 
£r8t of his historical compositions which is celebrated 
lyy his biographers is the Presentation of the Viigin in 
ihe Temple, a large picture, now in the Academy of 
Arts at Venice ; and the first portrait recorded is that 
of Catherine, Queen of Cypress, of which numerous re- 
petitions and copies were scattered over all Italy : there 
is a fine original in the Dresden Gallery. This un- 
happy Catherine Comaro, the ** daughter of St. Mark," 
having been forced to abdicate her crown in favour of 
the Venetian State, was at this time living in a sort of 
honourable captivity at Venice. She had been a widow 
for forty years, and he has represented her in deep 
mourning holding a rosary in her hand — the face still 
hearing traces of that beauty for which she was cele- 

It appears that Titian was married about 1512 ; but of 
his wife we do not hear anything more : we know that 
her name was Cecilia (not Lucia, as she is sometimes 
called), and that she bore him three children, two sons, 
and a daughter called Lavinia. It seems probable, on a 
comparison of dates, that she died about the year 1530. 
One of the earliest works on which Titian was en 
gaged was the decoration of the convent of St. Antony 


298 TITIAN. [Bosv UT7. 

at Fadua, in which he executed a series of frescoes from 
the life of St Antony. Perugino was at Venice is 
151 5 : he was then an old man ; and looking ronnd Iiim 
at what the Venetian painters were achieving, he seemi 
to have been reluctant to enter the lists with them, and 
went away without doing anything. In fact^ Titim 
finished in the next year (15tG) his famous Assumptioa 
of the Virgin for the Frari * — a picture of dazxL'ng 
splendour. lie was next summoned to Ferrara by the 
Duke Alphonso I., and was employed in his service fiv 
at least two years. lie painted for this prince Uie 
beautiful picture of Bacchus and Ariadne, which u now 
in our National Gallery, and which presents on a small 
scale an epitome of all the boauticH which characterise 
Titian, in the rich, picturesque, animated composition 
— in the ardour of Bacchus, who flings himself from his 
car to pursue Ariadne — in the dancing bacchanals, the 
fnmtic grace of the bacchante, and the little joyons 
satyr in front, tndling the head of the sacrificcf He 

• It is now in the Acatleiny at Venice; well knoMiTi from innu- 
merable copicH, and the fine engraving by Schiavone. 

t Thifl picture was HUggested by a pasivige in Catullus. The 

poet, in the * Marri.ige of PuleiiA and Tlietis,* describes tlie CDUch of 

the goddess-bride asVovered with rich taj^estry **enibroidere<l with 

figures in gopj^eous colours, portrayed with wondrous art." It re- 

])rusentA the Ht«>ry of Ariadne. In one part she is seen wandering 

on the Khore of Naxos, after she has been abandoned by Theseus, 

broken-hearted, and appealing to all the gods against the perfidy of 

hor lover. In another port Bacchus is seen approaching: — 

" Young locchiis, flashed 
With bloom of youth, comes flying from above 
With choirs of wtjrs and Sileni bom 
In Indian Njm : seokinK thee he comes, 
Ariadne ! with thy love inflamed ! 
They, bly the. trum every side come revelling on. 
Distraught with Jocund madneM, with a burst 
Of Bacchic outcries, aud «lth tossing beads! 


299 ^^1 

1 paiated for the same prince two other feetive subjects ; ^^H 
me in which a nymph and two men are dancing, while ^^| 
another nymph lies asleep ; and a third in which a ^^| 
Bmnher of children and Cupido arc eporting round a ^^^| 
tlAtne of Venus ; there are here upwards of sixty figures ^^| 
in every variety of attitude, some fluttering in the air. ^^| 
Bonie climbing the fruit-trees, some shooting arrows, or ^^^ 
embracing each other. This picture is known as the 
S«crifice to the Goddess of FertiUty ; while it remained 
in Italy it was a study for the first pai&t«i's, for ronssin. ^^^ 
tJie Carracci, Allmno, and Fiamingo the sculptor, so ^^H 
famous for his models of children.* At Femira, Titian ^^^| 
also pointed the well-known picture in the Louvre, ^^^| 
called Titian and his MislTess, but which I have no doubt ^^| 
represents tbc Duke Alplionsu and his second wife ^^^H 
Laura ; and here also he formed a friendship with the poet ^^J 
Ariosto, whose portrait he painted, and who, in retuni, 
fOnvecrated to him two lines of the Orlando Furioso. i 

^■b 1519 he waa invited tu Home by Leo X., for whom ^^H 

^H Sukh Ibt torn hdf«r-| llmtet «,u,t did IbenuelTt. ^^^H 

^^^H In bgllow lUkt, Uie mjilerin of the gi4. ^^^^^B 

^^B wiuil*|>iTliieh>iiiU,otb<«]iinix.lhDTbgorbnH ^^^H 

■ CUiikfarlhtllnkltDgiouuiIi indnunTblDw ^^^H 

On Ibe imrnr hom ; aitd Uie bu^urtc: plpo ^^^M 

Bayi liATdi npua Uk ur iU lUnnlpg tune." ^^^H 

UTa havo otdj to read tbia fuicied deecriptian of a fancied picture ^^^^| 
in iiraUDCe of the real picture to feel how Titisa has nnimntcd tho ^^^ 
■nrd* into hues uid tonaa, uid rendered the whole iceue, litenjly, 
line fiir line. 

' Theae two pictures are now at Madrid. A good copy of the h 
lut used to han^ in the d^'k at UamptuQ Court. DJid hoa Ueo lulelj ^^H 
RmuTed to Wicdior. ^^^^| 

300 TITIAX. [BORV 1477. 

Raphael, then in the zenith of his powers, was execndng 
some of his finest works. It is curious to speculate 
what influence these two great and gifted men mi^t 
have exercised on each other had they met ; but it wu 
not so decreed. Titian was strongly attached to his 
home and his friends at Venice ; and to his birthplace, 
the little town of Cadore, ho paid an annual summer 
visit His long absence at Ferrara had wearied him of 
(H)urts and princes; and, instead of going to Rome to 
swell the luxurious state of Leo X., he returned to 
Venice and remained there stationary for the next few 
years, enriching its palaces and churches with his mag- 
nificent works. Those were so numerous that it would 
1)0 in vain to attempt to give an account even of those 
considered as the finest among them. 

The next event of Titian's life was his journey to 
Bologna in 15r>(). His wife had died in the early jiart 
of thirt year, leaving him a little daughter, and be pro- 
bably needed some change to revive his cheerfulness. 
Tho Emperoy Charles V. and Pope Clement VII. met at 
Bologna, each surrounded by a brilliant retinue of the 
most distinguiHhed soldiers, statesmen, and scholars of 
Germany and Italy. Through the influence of Aretino, 
Titian was recommended to the Cardinal Ippolito de* 
aMedici, tho Pope's nephew, through whoso patronage 
ho was introduced to the two potentates, who sat to him ; 
one of tho portraits of Clement VII., painted at this 
time, is now in the Bridge water Gallery. Charles V. 
was represented in complete armour on horseback, and 
he was so satisfied with his portrait, that he became the 
zealous friend and patron of the painter. The portrait 

D 13T4.] 


of the Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici, in the Hungarian 
COStnme, now ia the Pitti Pala^ie, and ttat of Aretino in 
tiie VAme collection, belong to this period ; both are 

After a sojourn of some months at Bologna. Titian 
returutd to Venice loaded with bonowrs and rewards. 
Thet« was no potentate, prince, or poet, or reigning 
heaaty, who did not covet the honour of being im- 
mortalized by his pencil. He had up to lhi§ time ma- 
tured his worldly afiaira with great economy, but now 
he purchased for himself a hoiiae opposite to Murano, 
kttd lived splendidly, combining with the moat inde- 
&tigable industry the liveliest enjoyment of existence ; 
his favoarite companions wore the architect Sansovino 
and the witty profligate Pietro Aretino. Titian has often 
been reproached with his friendship for Aretino, and 
nothing can be eaid in his excuse, except that the 
proodefit [irinces in Europe coudeecended to flatter and 
caress this unprincipled literary ruf&an, who was pleased 
to designate himself as the " friend of Titian, and the 
Bconrge of princes." ■ 

Thns in the practice of his art, in the society of his 
friends, and in the enjoj'ment of the pleaeures of life, 
did Titian pasa several years. In the year 1537 he 
painted for the Dominicans the Death of St, Peter 
Hartyr when attacked by aasaeeins at the entrance of a 
wood ; the resignation of the prostrate victim and the 

■ Titiaa'a bouas and gardeo 
ii now called the fimd-immt 
down M the aliore. The bous 
inga. it Bill] standing. See. in 
■on,' the Eamj on tlie Uaime 

B Dear btiat part of Venice which 
or*-, with a vinejsrd stratcbing 
ougli now blocked up with build- 
■iiioira and Esaa^s, b; Mrs. Jauia- 

302 TITIAN. [BoBjr 1477. 

ferocity of the murderer, the attendant flying '* in ^ 
agonies of cowardice," with the trees waving their dis- 
tracted boughs amid the violence of the tempest, have 
rendered this picture famous as a piece of scenic poetij 
as well as of dramatic expression. 

In the middle of this century he was without a rival 
in his art. Lionardo, Raphael, Correggio, Andrea del 
Sarto, had all passed away. Titian himself, at the age 
of sixty, was no longer youug, but he still retained all 
the vigour and the freshness of youth ; neither eye nor 
hand, nor creative energy of mind, had failed him yet 
He was again invited to Ferrara, and painted there the 
portrait of the old pope Paul III. He then visited 
Urbino, whore he painted for the duke the famous Venus 
which hangs in the Tribune of the Florence Gallery, and 
many other pictures. He again, by order of Charles V., 
repaired to Bologna, and painted the emperor, standing, 
and by his side a favourite Irish wolf-dog : this picture 
was given by Philip IV. to our Charles I., but after his 
death was sold into Spain, and is now at Madrid. 

Pope Paul III. invited him to Rome, whither he re- 
paired in 1545. There he painted that wonderful picture 
of the old pope with his two nephews (the Duke Ottavio 
and Cardinal Famese) which is now in the Museo at 
Naples.* The head of the pope is a miracle of character 
and expression: a koen-visaged, thin little man, with 
meagre fingers like birds* claws, and an eager cunning 
look, riveting the gazer like the eye of a snake — nature 

• There are two alike in treatment. The finest is the one un 
finished, which appears to be the first sketch from life. Another 
of Paul III. is in the Belvedere at Vienna. 


itself ! — and the pope had either so little or so much 
Tanitj as to be perfectly satisfied: he rewarded the 
painter munificently ; he even offered to make his son 
Pomponio Bishop of Ceneda, which Titian had the good 
aense to reftise. While at Bome he painted several 
pictures for the Famese family, among them the Venus 
and Adonis, of which a repetition is in our National 
Gallery; a Danae which excited the admiration of 
Michael Angelo ; and the portrait of Aretino which is 
now in the Fitti Palace, a marvel of life and character. 
At this time Titian was in his seventieth year. 

He next, by command of Charles Y., repaired to 
Angsburgh, where the emperor lield his court : eighteen 
years had elapsed since he first sat to Titian, and ho 
was now broken by the cares of government — far older at 
fifty than the painter at seventy. It was at Augsburgh 
that the incident occurred which has been so often 
related : Titian dropped his pencil, and Charles, taking 
it up and presenting it, replied to the artistes excuses 
that " Titian was worthy of being served by Ca*sar." 
This pretty anecdote is not without its paixillel in 
modem times. AVhen Sir Thomas Lawrence was paint- 
ing at Aix-la-Chapelle, as he stooped to place a picture 
on his easel, the Emperor of Bussia anticipated him, 
and taking it up adjusted it himself; but we do not hear 
that he made any speech on the occasion. AVhen at 
Angsburgh, Titian was ennobled and created a count of 
the empire, with a pension of two hundred gold ducats, 
and his son Pomponio was appointed canon of the 
cathedral of Milan. AfVer the abdication and death of 
Charles V., Titian continued in great favour with his 

304 TITIAN. [BoRn 1477. 

Kuccessor Philip II., for whom he painted seyenl 
pictures. It is not true, however, that Titian visited 
Spain : the assertion that he did so rests on the sole 
authority of Palomino, a Spanish writer on art, and, 
though wholly unsupported hy evidence, has heen 
copied from one hook into another. Later researches 
have proved that Titian returned from Augshurgh to 
Venice ;* and an uninterrupted series of letters and 
documents, with dates of time and place, remain to 
show that, with the exception of this visit to Augshurgh 
and another to Vienna, he resided constantly in Italy, 
and principally at Venice, from 1550 to his death 
NotwitliKtanding the compliments and patronage and 
nominal rewanlH he received from the Spanish court, 
Titian waH woiise off under Philip II. than he had been 
under ( harles V. : his pension was constantly in arrears ; 
the payments for his i)ictnre8 evaded by the officials ; 
and we find the great painter constantly presenting 
petitions and complaints in moving terms, which 
always obtained gracious but illusive answers Philip 
II., who commanded the riches of the Indies, was for 
many years a debtor to Titian for at least two thousand 
gold crowns ; and his accounts were not settled at the 
time of his death. For our Queen Mar}^ of England, 
who wished to patronize a man favoured by her hus- 
band, Titian painted several pictures, some of which 
were in the possession of Charles I. ; others had been 

* It appears that the wonderful picture of Christ and the Pharisee 
(II Cristo della Moneta), now at Dresden, was painteii during this 
visit to Augsburgh, in 1548. The picture of the same subject in 
our National Gallery is a coarse and immeasurably inferior work, 
and, as I 8upj>ose, of a later period. 


Lud are dow 

oarHed to Spain afler tlie death of Uar^, i 
in the Royal GaUeiy at Uadrid. 

Be«id«ti tlie pictures painted hy mmmand for r 
and Doble patrons, Titiim, nfao vras nnceasingly o 
pied, had always a great number of pictures in his 
house wliich lie preKent«d to his friends, or to the officers 
ftod att«nduattj bf tbe court, as a lueane of procuring 
their lavour. TUcra is extant a letter of Ar«tiuo, in 
which Le describes tie scene which toolc place when 
the emperor enmmiined bis favourite painter to attend 
the coiii't at Augi^burgh in 1550. "It was," he says, 
" ihc most flattering teEtimony U> kiit excellence to 
behold, as soon as it was known thai the divine painter 
waa sent for, the crowds of people running to obtain, 
dble, the prodnctions of Ma art ; and how they 
MTOured to purchase the pictures, great and small, 
Leverything that was in the house, at any price ; for 
Qrbody seems asiiured tliat his august majesty will so 
t his ApelleB that he will no linger condescend to 
e his pencil except to oblige him." 
" Venus and Adonis" now in our National Gal- 
vwas painted by Titian for I'hilip II. jn 1554, when | 
1 inn seventy-eighth year, and the Cenocolo | 
fat Madrid in 1505, when he was in his eighty-ninth ' 
hi but time passed on, and seemed to havo do 
r to quench the ardour of this wonderful old iua|]> 
a eighty-one when he i>ainted the Martj-nlom of 
e, one of his largest and grandest composi- I 
The Magdalene, tlie half-length figure with i 
I streaming eyes, which he sent to I'bilip U., 
I executed even later : and it was not till he was 

306 TITIAN. [BORH U77. 

approaching his ninetieth year that he showed in biv 
works symptoms of enfeebled powers ; and then it 
seemed as if sorrow rather than time had reached him 
and conquered him at last. He had lost his dan^ter 
Lavinia, who had been his model for many beantifiil 
pictures. The death of many friends, the companions of 
his convivial hours, left him *' alone in his gloiy ;** and 
he found in his beloved art the only refuge from grief. 
His son Fomponio was still the same worthless profli- 
gate in ago that he had been in youth : his son Oraso 
attended upon him with truly filial duty and a£fectioii, 
and under his father s tuition had become an accom- 
plished artist ; but as they always worked together, and 
on the same canvas, his works are not to be distin- 
guished from his father's. Titian was likewise sur- 
rounded by jminters who, without being precisely his 
scholars, had assembled frum every part of Europe to 
pru6t by his instructions.* ITae early morning and the 
evening hour found him at his easel ; or lingering in 
his little garden (where ho had feasted with Aretino 
and Sansovino, and Bembo and Ariosto, and ** the most 
gracious Virginia," and " the most beautiful Violante"), 
and gazing on the setting sun, with a thought perhaps 
of his own long and bright career fast hastening to its 
close ; — not that such anticipations clouded his cheerful 
spirit — buoyant to the last ! In 1574, when he was in 
his ninety-seventh year, Henry III. of France landed 
at Venice on his way from Poland, and was magni- 

* It seems, however, generally admitted that Titian, either from 
impatience or jealousy, or both, waa a very bad instructor in hia 

1576.J HIS DEATH. 307 

loently entertained by the Bepublic. On this occasion 
he king, attended by a numerous suite of princes and 
lobles, visited Titian at his own house. Titian enter- 
ained them with splendid hospitality ; and when the 
idiig aaked the price of some pictures which pleased 
bim, he presented them as a gift to his majesty, and 
anreiy one praised his easy and noble manners and his 
ffm&roQB bearing. 

Two years more passed away, and the hand did not 
fet tremble, nor did the eye wax dim. AVhen the plague 
biroke out in Venice, in 1576, the nature of the distemper 
was at first mistaken, and the most common precautions 
neglected ; the contagion spread, and Titian and his son 
were among those who perished : every one liad fled, 
and before life was extinct some i-uffians entered his 
chamber and carried off, before his eyes, his money, 
jewels, and some of his pictures. His death took place 
on the 9th of September, 1576. A law had been made 
during the plague that none should be buried in the 
churches, but that all the dead bodies should be carried 
beyond the precincts of the city ; an exception, however, 
even in that hour of terror and anguish, was made in 
fitvonr of Titian : his remains were borne with honour 
to the tomb and deposited in the church of Santa Maria 
de* Frari, for which he had painted his famous Assump- 
tion. There he lies beneath a plain black marble slab, 
on which is simply inscribed 


In the year 1794 the citizens of Venice resolved to 
erect a noble and befitting monument to his memory. 

308 TITIAN. [BoRS 1477. 

Canova made tho design ; — but the tronbles whidi 
interrened, and the extinction of the Bepublic, pie- 
vented the execution of this project. Canova's mag- 
nificent model was appropriated to another purpoie, 
and now forms the cenotaph of the Archduchess Chris- 
tina, in the church of the Augustins at Vienna^ 

This was the life and death of the famous Titian. 
He was pre-eminently the painter of nature ; but to 
him nature was clothed in a perpetual garb of bean^, 
or rather, to him nature and beauty were one. In 
historical compositions and sacred subjects he has been 
rivalled and surpaKsed, but as a portrait-painter never; 
and his iH)rlrait*5 uf celebrated persons have at once the 
truth and the dignity of history. It would be in vain 
to attempt to give any account of his works ; numerous 
lis they are, not all that are attributed to him in various 
galleries are his : many arc by Palma, Bonifazio, and 
others his contemporaries, who imitated his manner 
with more or less success. As almost everj' gallery in 
Europe, public and private, contains pictures attributed 
to him, I shall not attempt to enumerate even the 
acknowledged chefs-d'oeuvre. It will be interesting, 
however, to give some account of those of his works 
contained in our national and royal galleries. In our 
National Gallery there are five, of which the Bacchus 
and Ariadne, tho Venus and Adonis, and the Ganymede, 
are fair examples of his power in the poetical depart- 
ment of his ai-t. Tho lovely little picture of Christ 
appearing to Mary Magdalene, which belonged to Mr. 
Bogers, and used to hang in the poet's drawing-room, he 


leqtieatlied to the National Gallery in 1855: but we 
■till want one of his inestimable portraits. In the 
galleiy at Hampton Court there are seven or eight 
piotnres attributed to him, most of them in a miserably 
mined condition. The finest of these is a portrait of a 
man in black, with a white shirt seen above his vest up 
to his throat ; in his right hand a red book, his fore- 
finger between the leaves : it is called in the old cata- 
logoes Alessandro de' Medici, and has been engraved 
under the name of Boccaccio ;* but it has no preten- 
nons to either name : it is a wonderful piece of life. 
There is also a lovely figure of a standing Lucretia, 
about half-life size, with very little drapery — not at all 
characteristic of the modest Lucretia who arranged her 
robes that she might fall with decorum : she holds with 
her left hand a red veil over her face, and in the right a 
dagger with which she is about to stab herself. This 
picture belonged to Charles I., and came to England 
with the Mantua Gallery in 1629 ; it was sold in 1650, 
after the king's death, for 200?. (a large price for the 
time), and afterwards restored. In the collection at 
Windsor there are the portraits of Titian and Andrea 
Franceschini, half-length, in the same picture. Frances- 
chini was chancellor of the Republic, and distinguished 
for his literary attainments ; he is seen in front in a robe 
of crimson (the habit of a cavaliero of St. Mark), and 
holds a paper in his hand. The acute and refined 

* The eDgraving, which is most admirable, was executed by Cor- 
nelius Vischer, when the picture was in Holland, in the possession 
of a g^reat collector of that time, named Van Keynst, from whom 
the States of Holland purchased it with several others, and pre- 
sented them to Charles I. 

810 TITIAN. [Bots im, 

features have that expreesion of mental power yAoA 
Titian, without any apparent effort, oould throw intot 
head : the fine old face and flowing beard of 'Etin 
appear behind* This picture belonged to Charke L, 
and was sold after his death for 112/. ; it has beencaDed 
in various catalogues Titian and Aretino, which is a 
obvious mistake, and yet in all the catalogues remaiu 

In the Louvre there are twenty-two pictures by Titian ; 
in the Vienna Gkllery fifty-two. The Madrid Oalleiy 
contains most of the fine pictures painted for Charles Y. 
and Philip II. 

Before I quit the subject of Titian, I may remark that 
a ct>llecti(»n of his engraved portraits would form a com- 
plete historical gallery illustnitive of the times in which 
he lived. Not only was his art at the service of princes 
and their favourite beauties, but it was ever ready to 
immortalize the features of those who were the objects 
of his own affection and admiration. Unfortunately it 
was not his custom to inscribe on the canvas the names 
of thobc who sat to him : many of the most glorious 
heads he ever ])ainted remain to this hour unknown. 
Amid all their reality (and nothing in painting ever so 
conveyed the idea of a presence) they have a particular 
dignity which strikes us with respect ; we would fidn 
interrogate them, while they look at us lifelike, grandly, 
calmly, like beings of another world; they seem to 
recognise us, but we can never recognise them : only 
wo feel the cei-tainty that just as they now look, so they 
lived and looked in long past times. Such a portrait is 

1576.] HIS PORTRAITS. 311 

ibat in the Hampton Court Gallery ; that grave dark 
mui, — in figure and attitude so tranquil, so contem- 
plative, but in his eyes and on his lips a revelation of 
feeling and eloquence. And such a picture is that of 
the lady in the Sciarra Palace at Rome, called expressly 
** La Bella di Tiziano." It has no other name, but no 
one ever looked at it without the wish to carry it away ; 
and no anonymous portrait has ever been so midtiplied 
by copies. But leaving these, I will subjoin here a short 
list of those great and celebrated personages who are 
Imown to have sat to Titian, and whose portraits remain 
to US, a precious legacy, and forming the truest com- 
mentary on their lives, deeds, and works. 

Charles V. Titian painted this emperor several times : 
the first time in 1530, in a full suit of armour, when he 
was a young man full of health and conscious of power ; 
the last time in 1550, when he was a broken-down and 
feeble old man, seated in an arm-chair in a velvet dress- 
ing gown. Ho has always a grave, even melancholy, 
expression ; very short hair and beard ; a large square 
brow ; and the full lips and projecting under-jaw which 
became a deformity in his descendants. 

His wife, the Empress Isabella, holding flowers in her 

Philip II. : like his father, but uglier, more melan- 
choly, less intellectual. The Duke of Devonshire has a 
fine full-length, in rich armour. There is a very good one 
at Florence, in the Pitti Palace ; and another at Madrid. 
In the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge is the picture 
called " Philip II. and the Princess Eboli," of which 
4>i^re are several repetitions. 

312 TITIAN. [Bow IW. 

Francis I. : half-length, in profile ; now in the Lowfit 
Titian did not paint this king from nature, bat from % 
medal which was sent to him to copy. 

Th9 Emperor Ferdinand L 

The Emperor Budolph II. 

The Sultan Soljman II. His wife Boxana. {Tbrn 
are engraTod after Titian, bnt from what oiiginala m 
know not : they cannot bo from nature.) 

The Popes Julius II. (doubtful), Qement YII., Ful 
III., and Paul IV. 

All the Doges of Venice of his time. 

FranccHco, Ihiko of Urbino, and his Duchess Eleonon : 
two wonilorful j>ortrait8, now in the Florence Galleiy. 

Tlio ( Wdinal Ipj)olito de' Medici (in tlio Louvre, and 
in the Pitti Palace). 

Tho (V>n«tublc do Bourbon. 

The famouH and oniel Duke of Alva. 

Andrea 1 )oria, Doge of Genoa. 

Ferdinand Le^Ta, who commanded at the battle of 
Pa via. 

AIj)lionKO d'AvaloH (in tho Louvre). 

iKabella d' Esto, Marchioness of Mantua. 

Alphonso, Duko of Ferrara; his first wife, Lucrczia 
Borgia; and his second wife, Laura Eustochia.* (In 
tho Dresden Gallery" there is a picture by Titian, in 
which Alphonso is presenting his wife Lucrezia to the 

Cesar Borgia. Catherine C?omaro, Queen of Cyprus. 

Tho poet Ariosto, once in the Manfrini Palace at 
Venice ; now in England. 

Bernardo Tasso. 

• Vide 'Sacred and Legendary Art/ 3rd edition, p. 573. 

Died 1576.] HIS PORTRAITS. 313 

Cardinal Bembo. Cardinal Sforza. Cardinal Famese. 

Connt Castiglione. 

Pietro Aretino : several times. (The finest is at Flo- 
lenoe in the Fitti Palace ; another is at Munich. The 
engravings by Bonasone of Aretino and Cardinal Bembo 
rank among the most exquisite works of art. There are 
impressions of both in the British Museum.) 

Sansovino, the fEunous Venetian architect. 

The Comaro family (in the possession of the Duke 
of Northimiberland). 

Fracastaro, a famous Latin poet. 

Irene da Spilemborgo, a younjg girl who had distin- 
guished herself as a musician, a poetess, and to whoTu 
Titian himself had given lessons in painting. She died 
at the age of eighteen. 

Andrea Vesalio, who has been called the father of 
anatomical science — the particular friend of Titian, and 
hiB instructor in anatomy. He was accused falsely of 
having put a man to death for anatomical purposes, and 
oondemned. Philip II., unwilling to sacrifice so accom- 
plished a man to mere popular prejudice, commuted hin 
punishment to a forced pilgrimage to the Holy Land. 
He obeyed the sentence ; but on his return he was 
wrecked on the island of Zante, and died there of hunger 
in 1564. (This magnificent portrait, which Titian seems 
to have painted with enthusiasm, is in the Pitti Palace 
at Florence.) 

Titian painted several portraits of himself, but none 
which represent him young. In the fine portrait at 
Florence he is about fifty, and in the other known repre- 

314 TITIAN. [BOHX 1477. 

sentations he is an old man, with an aquiline nose and 
long flowing beard. Of his daughter Lavinia there are 
numj portraits. She was her fother's favourite model, 
being very beautiful in face and form. In a famov 
picture, now at Berlin, she is represented lifting with 
both hands a dish filled with fruits. There are four 
repetitions of this subject : in one the fruits arc changed 
into a casket of jewels (in the collection of Lord de 
Grey) ; in another she becomes the daughter of Herodias, 
and the dish bears the head of John the Baptist All 
are striking, graceful, full of animation. 

The only exalted personage of his time and countiy 
whom Titian did not paint was Cosmo I., Grand-Duke 
of Florence. In passing through Florence, in 1548, 
Titian requested the honour of painting the Grand- 
Duke : the offer was declined. It is worthy of remark 
that Titian ha<l painted, many ^'cars before, the father of 
Cosmo, Giovanni de* Medici, the famous captain of tlie 
Bande Neri ; but this api>ears to have l>een from a mask 
in plaster sent to him after the death of Giovanni. 

( 315 ) 





Titian was the last great name of the earlier schools of 
Italy — the last really grtat painter whom she produced. 
After him came many who were good artists, excellent 
artificers; hut, compared with the heaven-endowed cre- 
atoiB in art — the poetrpainters who had gone before them 
— ^they were mere mechanics, the best of them. No more 
Baphaels, no more Titians, no more Michael Angelos, 
before whom princes stood uncovered ! but very good 
painters, bearing the same relation to their wondrous 
predecessors that the poets, wits, and playwrights of 
Queen Anne's time bore to Shaksperc. There was, 
however, an intervening period between the death of 
Titian and the foundation of the Carracci school, a sort 
of interregnum, during which the art of painting sank 
to the lowest depths of laboured inanity and inflated 
mannerism. In the middle of the sixteenth century 
Italy swarmed with painters : these go under the gene- 
nl name of the mannerists ^ because they all imitated the 
manner of some one of the great masters who had gone 
hefore them. There were imitators of Michael Angelo, 
of Raphael, of Correggio: — Vasari and Bronzino, at 

p 2 

316 MORON E. 

Florence ; the two brothers Taddeo and Federigo Zuo- 
caro, and the Cavalier d'Arpino, at Eome ; Fedeiigo 
Barroccio, of Urbino ; Luca Cambiasi, of Genoa ; and 
hundreds of others, who covered with frescoes the wills 
of villas, palaces, churches, and produced some fine and 
valuable pictures, and many pleasing and graceful ones, 
and many more that were mere vapid or exaggerated 
repetitions of worn-out subjects. And patrons were not 
wanting, nor industry, nor science ; nothing but ori- 
ginal and elevated feeling — " the inspiration and the 
poet's dream." 

But in the Venetian school still survived this inspira- 
tion, this vital and creative poAver, when it seemed 
extinct everywhere besides. From 1540 to 1590 the 
Venetians wore the only painters worthy the name in 
Italy, lliis arose from the elementary principle early 
infused into the Venetian artists — the principle of look- 
ing to Nature, and imitating her, instead of imitating 
others and one another. Thus, as every man who looks 
to Nature looks at her through his own eyes, a certain 
degree of individuality' was retained even in the decline 
of the art. There were some who tried to loc^k at 
Natui*e in the same point of view as Titian, and these 
arc generally included under the denomination of the 
** School of Titian,'' though in fact he had no scJtod 
properly so called. 

MoKoxK was a portrait-painter who in some of his 
heads equalled Titian. We have in England only one 
known picture b}- him, but it is a masterpiece— the por- 
trait of a Jesuit, in the gallery of the Duke of Suther- 


Iwid, wliich far a long time went by the namn of Titian's 
Sdhoolinnbter ; it represents a grave, acute-looking nian, 
holding a book in bis hand, which he has just closed : 
his finger is between the leaves, and, leaning fi'om bis 
ahair, lie uoenm about to addresB yon. 

" The Tury lite is warm upuD tlist lip, 
Th« fitturs of the eye hat motdDti ia't. 
And we lue mock'd by aitV 

BoKD'.vzto, who IukI studied nnder Palma and Titian, 
pWDt«d many pictures which are frequently attributeil 
tit both those masters. For example, the '' Finding of 
Mceee," in the Brora at Milan, was long attributed tii 
Ciorgione;* the Injantifiil Uoly Family in (be Louvre 
(ft2) was generally 8U])i>osed to be by Palma ; nnd many 
of iiis pictnree pass under the name of Titian. Yeiy 
little 18 known of this painter. Ridolfi mentions that in 
bi» liue six long pictures by BonifaKio were carried to 
England, representing the Triumph of Love, of Chastity, , 
of Time, of Famti, of Death, and, last, the Triumph of 
Religion; forming a series suggested by the well-known [ 

* It maf be called raClier » mnumtic onA poetioul version tliMi on 
UMoricftl representation of tiie scene. It would ibock Sir Gardner 
VilkinsoD. In tbe ceutre lita the prmceui under a tnw ; aba looks 
Willi lurprue and tenderness on the child, which in hruuglit to her 
by one of her attendant*: the squire iir mnefchnl of the prince**, 
with knights and ladies, stand ar«iuid: on one side two luven are 
icoted on the grass; on tbe other are musieiana and eingers. psgex 
with dogs. All the Gguren ure in the Venetian c 
louriog is splendid, uid ike gmce and hannony of the whole eoni- 
positiOQ U even the more euchanting from the ivitiwf^ of tbe ooncep' 
■ioD. This picture, like many others of the same sge and style, 
reminds ub of those poems and tales of tbe middle ages in which [ 
Dafid and JonalliBn figure as "pnax lAeralieni," and Sir .Alexander ] 
of MaMdan and Sir Puis of Troy %ht tour 

Isdiea' ejea and the " bleoed Virgin." Thej must be tried by their J 
giro aim md standard, not b; the severity of antiquarian criticUm. 


* Trionfii' of Potrarcli, and often represented by the Itiliaa 
painters, — but I can find no account of these pictures. 

A much finer painter was Alessabdbo BoHViaso, 
called II Morktto, who also studied under Titian, bat, 
by uniting with Venetian colour and sentiment some- 
thing of the dignity of the Roman school and a depth 
of religious feeling which seems to have belonged to 
his individual character, he surpassed in some of hk 
pictures every painter of his time except Titian. Very 
little is known of his life, except that he chiefly worked 
in his native city Brescia and its neighbourhood. There 
is a rich purple glow over his pictures, which distin- 
guiiilies them from all others I have seen. The Santa 
Ciiustina, at Vienna, long attributed to Pordenone, and 
a magnificent altarpiece in the possession of Lord 
Northwick, are the finest 1 can remember, besides those 
in the churches at Brescia. 

Andrea Scuiavone, whose elegant pictures are often 
mot with in collections, was a poor boy who began the 
world as an assistant mason and house-painter, and who 
became an artist from the love of art; but by some 
fatality, or some quality of mind wbich we are wont 
to call a fatality, he remained always poor. He painted 
numerous i)icturos, which others obtained and sold 
again for high prices, enriching themselves at the ex- 
pense of his toil of hand and head. At length he died, 
and in such wretched circumstances, that he was buried 
by the charity of a few fiiends. In general the Vene- 
tian painters were joyous beings ; Schiavone was a rare 
and melancholy exception. Very different was the temper 


Bod the fate of PAKrs BoRDose of Treviso, a man without ] 
much goiiius, w-eak in drawing, capricious or comn 
place in invention, without fire or cxpreaeion, hut a J 
dirine colonrist, and stamping on his pictures his o 
buoyant, life-enjoying nature ; in tliis ho was like Titian, 1 
but utterly inferior in all other respects. Some of hiB j 
portisits are very beautiful, particularly those of hia 
iromen, which have been often mistaken for Titian's. 

The eliler Palma is also considered a^ a Bcholar of | 
Titian, thongh deriving as little from his porsunal i 
stmction aH did Tintoretto, Bordone, and others of the 
school. The date of hia birlh has been rendered unoer- 
tain by the mistakes of various authors, who confounded 
the elder and the younger Falma; but it appears ihat 
he was bom between li73 and 1480, — (hat ho waa, in J 
&ct, about the same age as Titian. Tn some piotnres he ■ 
has Bhovra the dignify of Titian, in others a touch of tho ■ 
melancholy sentiment of Giorgione. Not half the pio- 1 
tmvB attributed to Palma Vocchio are by him. We I 
have not one in our National Galleiy ; and tliose at I 
Hampton Court which are attributed to him are not I 
genuine — mere third-rate pictures of the Venetian scliool, I 
On UiL- whole he was a most charming painter, and hiB I 
religious subjects in that pastoral style which belonged to I 
ihe Venetian school ore beyond expression lovely^onefl 
in the LomTe (277) and one at Dresden are examples. " 
This painter had three daughters of remarkable beauty, 
Violanto. tbe eldest and most beautiful, is said to have 
been loved by Titian. She was frequently painted by 
her father, and it is a tradition that she was the ,i 
vodel of his 8t Barixua, in the B. Maria-Formoxa at i 


Venice ; his luaMtcrpiece — and ono of the finest pictnies 
in the world. Wo have the three daughters of PalnuL 
pointcil by himself, in the Vienna gallery ; one, a most 
lovely creatui-e, with long light-brown hair, and a violet 
in her bosom, is without doubt Titian's Yiolante. In 
the Dresden gallery are the same three beautiful girlf 
in one picture, the head in the centre bding the Yiolante. 

It remains to give some account of two remarkable 
Venetian painters, who were contemporaries of Titian, 
but could hardly be called his rivals, his equals, or hifi 
imitators. They were both inferior to him, but original 
men in their different styles. 

The first was TiNioiiKTro, bom in 1.712; his rual 
name was Jacupo Kobusti. His father was a dyer (in 
Italian, Tint* in',): hence ho received in ehildbootl the 
diminutive nickname // Tintoretto, by which ho is Ix^st 
known to us. Ho began, like many other painters 
whose jJceniuK we have reconlod, by drawing all kinds of 
^)bje(»t^^ and figures on the walls of his father s house. The 
dyer, ]Mm\^ a man of sense, did not attempt to oppose liifi 
son's ]nedileotion for art. but procun»d for him the best 
instruct ii»n his moans would allow, and even sent him 
to .study under Titian. This did not avail him much, for 
tliat most excellent painter was by no mc^ns a good 
instructf>r. Tintorett4), however, did not lose coumge: 
he i>nnsuod his studies, and after a few years set up an 
academy of his o\vn, and on the wall of his painting-n>om 
he placed the following inscription, as being expressive 
of the ])rineiplc« he intended to follow : " II diseijm* di 
Mirhvl AgncHn: il cdorito di Tlziatio** (the drawing of 
Michael Angelo, and the colouring of Titian). Tinto- 
rett<^ was a man of extraordinary- talent, unequalled for 

the quickness of his invention and the facility and 
rspidityofhis execution; with an original, often eccentric, 
way of treating his sabjccts which set religioiiB conven- 
tionalities at nought. I remember, as instances, an An- 
nunciation, in nbich the Angel Gabriel, instead of 
approaching in the usual nianner, comes ruKhing down 
from Heaven into the presence of the Virgin Mary with 
a whole host of attendant spirits: and no uuo who has 
seen his Christ before Pilate, in the chapel of St. Itooh 
ftt Venice, will ever forget that pale pathetic figure. It 
Crequently happened tliat he would not give himself the 
trouble to make any design or sketch for his picture, 
but oonipoMod as ho went along, throwing hia figures on 
the canvas, and painting tbem in at once, with wonder- 
ful power and truth, considering the Httlo time and 
pains they cost him. But this want of study was fatal U> 
his real greatness. He ia the most unequal of painters. 
In his compositions we find often the grossest faults in 
close proximity with the highest beauty, Now he would 
paint a picture ahuost equal to Titian ; then produce one 
HO coarse and careless, that it seemed to justiiy Titian's 
expression of a " dauber." He abused his mechanical 
power by tlio utmost recklessness of pencil ; but then, 
■gain, hb wonderful talent redeemed him, and he would 
enchant his fellow-citizens by the grandeur, the dra- 
matic vivacity, the gorgeous colours, and the luxuriant 
invention diupUyod in some of his vast compositaonB. 
The larger the space he had to fill, the more he seemed 
at home : his small pictnros are seldom good. His por- 
traits in general are magiuficent ; loss refined and dig- 
nified than those of Titian, less intellectual, bat quite as 


Tintoretto painted an amazing number of pictores, 
and of an amazing size — one of them, the great Crod- 
fixion, at Venice, is seventy-four feet in length and 
thirty feet in height : here the Passion of our Saviour is 
represented like a vaat theatrical scene, crowded with 
groups of figures on foot and on horseback, exhibiting the 
greatest variety of movement and expression. Another 
very large picture, called the Miracle of St. Mark, is in 
the Academy of Venice : a certain slave having become 
a Christian, and having persevered in paying his devo- 
tions at the shrine of St. Mark, is condemned to the 
torture by his heathen lord ; but just as he is bound and 
prostrate St. Mark descends from above to aid his votary; 
the executioner is seen raising the broken instruments 
of torture, and a crowd of people look on in varions 
attitudes of wonder, pity, interest. The whole picture 
glows with colour and movement.* 

In our National Gallery we have only one small un- 
important work by Tintoretto, but there are ten or 
eleven in the Royal Galleries ; he was a favourite painter 
of Charles I., who purchased many of his works from 
Venice. Two pictures wliich belonged to this king 
are now at Hampton Court, — Esther fainting before 
Ahasuems, and the Nine Muses. They have suffered 
ten-ibly from audacious restorers ; but in this last pic- 
ture the figure of the Muse on the right, turning her 
back, is in a grand style, not unworthy, in its large, 
bold, yet graceful drawing, of the hand of Michael 
Angelo himself. In the same collection are three very 
fine poi-tmits. 

* The beautiful study for this picture once belonged to the poet 
Rogers, and is now in the possession of Miss Burdett Coutta. 


Tintoretto died in 1588. His daughter, Marietta 
Bobnsti, whose talent for painting was sedulously culti- 
'▼ated by her £Either, has left some excellent portraits ; 
and in her own time obtained such celebrity that the 
kings of France and Spain invited her to their courts 
with the most tempting offers of patronage, but she 
-would never leave her. father and her native Venice. 
Sidolfi speaks also of her rare skill in music. She died 
at the age of thirty. 

Paul Caglla^ri of Verona, better known as Paul 
Veronese, was bom in that city in 1530, the son of a 
sculptor, who taught him early to draw and to model ; 
but the genius of the pupil was so diametrically opposed 
to this style of art, that he soon quitted the studio of 
his fetther for that of his uncle Antonio Badile, a very 
good painter, from whom he learned that florid grace ia 
oomposition which he afterwards carried out in a man- 
ner so consummate and so characteristic. At that time 
Verona, like all the other cities of Italy, could boast of 
a crowd of painters ; and Paul Cagliari, finding that he 
oould not stand against so many competitors, repaired 
to Venice, where he remained for some time, studying 
the works of Titian and Tintoret, but without attract- 
ing much attention himself till he had painted on 
the roof of the church of St. Sebastian the history of 
Esther. This was a subject well calculate4 to call 
forth his particular talent in depicting the gay, the 
sumptuous accessories of courtly pomp — banquet scenes, 
processions, &o. ; and from this time he was continually 
employed by the splendour-loving citizens of Venice, 
who delighted in his luxuriant magnificence, and over- 


looked, or perhaps did not perceive, his thousand sixw 
against fact, probability, costume, time, and place. We 
are obliged to do the same thing in those days, if we 
would duly appreciate the works of this astonishing 
painter. We must shut our eyes to the violation of all 
proprieties of chronology and costume, and see only the 
abounding life, the wondrous variety of dignified and 
expressive figures crowded into his scenes (we may a 
little marvel how they got there), and the prodigality 
of light and colours, all harmonised by a mellowness of 
tone which renders them most attractive to the eye. To 
give an idea of Paul Veronese's manner of treating a 
Hubjoct, wo will take one of his finest and most cha- 
nictenHtic pictures, the Marriage of Cana, which wjb 
paintt'd for the refectory of the convent of San Giorgio 
at A'enice, and is now in the Lou^Te. It is not less 
than thirty feet long and twenty feet high, and contains 
about one hundred and thirty figures, life size. The 
Marriage Feast of the Galilean citizen is represented 
with a pomp worthy of ** Ormuz or of Ind :" a sump- 
tuous hall of the richest architecture ; loftv columns, 
long lines of marble balustrades rising against the sky ; 
a crowd of guests splendidly attired, some wearing 
orders of knighthood, are seated at tables covered vrixh 
gorgeous vases of gold and silver, attended by slavetJ, 
jesters, pages, and musicians. In the midst of all this 
dazzling pomp, this display of festive enjoyment, thei>e 
moving figures, these lavish colours in glowing approxi- 
mation, we begin after a while to distinguish the prin- 
cipal personages, our Saviour, the Virgin Mary, the 
Twelve Apostles, mingled with Venetian senators and 
ladies clothed in the rich costume of the sixteenth cen- 

flayiog the TM^MaBa, wUIb Tttin Tfbjt tibe Im*. 
Hw bnd« in &is ficStm » aM ID W ^ poctaut «( 
Elmuur of AmiUiM, tka aMsr of Cfcariw T., wd Moood 
wife uf FnuKSB I^ of wIhb iknc it « aost I 
pitftnul St w— 1«**-» Com. nm it • msim ot tl 
Seriptnral baiMiaet-aeenM, palntod bj PwrI Vu 
«11 in tlu> same exttsotdinuy strip, bat varied with tli« J 
ittiucst ricbiMM of bitxy, inrcntiati. and ookmniit; : .1 
Christ entertmiiied bgr Lvri, now is tb« Acwleoiy kH'M 
Venicv ; (he Supper in the hoaae of Simot) tbo Tlw I 
risee, with iS*ry MigJabno at Ike fe«t ofotir Sartonr, 1 
now in the Turin Gallny. of which the fintt ab-toh. »« 
iuagnifio«nt piece of roloitr. was in the powMeiuD nt .1 
Hr. Rivera;* tutd th« Supper at Emmaiu, in which h«^ 
has intruduct<d his wife and uibers of bia bnilj a* spec- 1 
lalun. 1 

The Companions of St. Sebastian, Mnromi imd Marcel- j 

K;, preparing for their Martyrdom, which in now in ] 
dmrch of San Sebnatiano at Veuiov, is, for th« f 
ecKion of life, paaaios, and dnuuatic jtower, ont> iil i 
the gnuidest pidnres in the worid: it is enliwnivd th»J 
muBterpiece of th^ painter. I 

Pan! Veronese died in loSS. lie wufl a man ufn 
amiable manners, of a liboral, geut-roua spirit, aiid4 
extremely piuus. Vihoa bo painted foi churcbi« uiidl 
Bon veats, ho fro<|neutly accepted very small pricoa, ■ 
^^BbetimcB merely tbo value of bis canvos and ooluura ; M 

i yifcfaiwiriaitopi 

in of Miw Burd«tt CouMa. 



Like nil tlic VeiictiauH, tlio l«»fi>uiw v.i^re jfot-.d portnut- 
Miiiitere. AW- liavea fiiifi [Kiilruii I'V .fuco^Kj IJassaiwin 
■iir Nfttionul Gulloiy, and .it Ilii'^iiiton t'ourt bpvchI 
.■iTv finu anil thaitictcristif piiliii-.s, wliii-b will gJTe 
III cxccUeiil i(l(-A of his gcnt'iti] iitniiner; the bct>t in 
'■'Mi>lt'B Jyiinir'y uuJ the I)l1iij;o. Sir. Kcjsoi's (Wrwofsrf 
hi- 'wo ]ri,>t iiictiiiV!) of tliiK !>i-list iiuw ia Englaaii, 
lii'v lire >>)>iAl], Imt itiiit-t Ifaiitifnl, viviil as jwms in 
|.:iiat 1 1 vi'li'ii", v. iih .>ii.i\: 'l-,;iii:y iiii<l fci-lliig than n 
(■Jii:il . ihc Milijc. tt- !in', *!i, '.'.■.■■•■i\ S.'M)iiiiitnii, I* 
'..,,:■ .ii ill.- .I'-i.ri-l tl.,' V.'.i-:i .in.. Nmliiii^r ■■i.iili! itiajit 

-l IJI K 

,. ,li,-, 

iji'U li.ul^iiiiil iitiiius ami thai indiviilu 
i-iut.r "hiuli litiils :i vilal iiik-ri-st to «11 
•if ail, wluthi'i tJio :^tv]o Ix- flovnted and 
^:■■.^ i„ til,. i.|ii!..,ri..!i ..f .■■ininon ivitw: W 

■■ ! ■■ KUO.f -J'V,. ,-;^'.. :';vl ii;,iT..t<i:^^. 

■;■':■-■, ■■ !' iiir -i'x;!'.: lU cuiinjy nil "rigiu 
..:;ii!i-'.iishvil at Vi-i,ico, .-.(. «vll as .wry 

all.l h-rc M-e cl.^e th.. JiislMry •■( ti!.. 

■ Itilv. 



lfiB0TT5(BMT. J.) Philip Miugnrc; or. Utmoin ol m C%nA tt 

iBSKCKOMBiE'S iJobx) Enquiria MOoMoiBg tka laUUeda*] 
PvnriuidttialDTuUEUImiorTnitk. »||— 11 «.fc»^ ftu an. 

PMlo«(.phj at tJie Uon] TMiBfk 9W/1I 

' Pstholo^ol uul Pnedal ] 

Iba StoBucli. As. narJKHlw*. Fcmp.Sr*. «l 

lOLUT DS (B*r. CnjBLis) Popalar Aecomit <f the Mi»i|fT^ vrf 

CaXaSUSflDdlL PlKiaTO. 3i. 

DOI.PBirS'3 (J. L.) Leltcn {ram Spain, U IdSfl Md 1857. 
■Via s™. lOi, 6d. 

FABLES. A KciT TnuulaUon. TTlih HMoial 

iOBIOCLTURAL (Tn) Jovbnal. Of the Ropl J 

IDS TO FAITH : n SoHea of IbaafA. Bj TsrioDi Writ«n. B£l«d 
'- — - ■ Td ATetiIi)i!i»p •< V«k »r* *■■ 

lUr.(lioB»k>wu*B3— n*Ai>- 

»&T. M. Mi£mx— On PnrhKy. 

r Ctuanr— £r^*r<«i< ni 

LUBBR-ViTCH fTn). Tfae moM intCTwUns Trial for WLlA- 
^^^ tnft ercr tssm. TnusUud fnin (ha Cvnua fcr 1.1>T DcT* 

OoEDOn. Putt Bid. S«. 

■ L*nT CitiawT. 

LTKlSaoS'3 (Mm.) Ec«iUeolioa> cf T^rUr SwppM and HittT 

InlxUuuifii. Wlih lUuilnlkrtu. r«I&>n. U>. 
Vmrt IDA'S Wolki and Talks ; a Stor? Book for CUldica. Bj 

mUST. Weodcnjti lOmi. S>, 

LtlSrnrS fJpux) Pkutiiici dt Jcu^frl-iiKici DsTismiD: or, 
Lectures on Juti4prnil*nK. ISeing » 


Like all tho Venetians, the Bai^aui were good portnit- 
paiutei*8. TVo have a lino portrait by Jacopo Bassano in 
(•ur National Gallery, and at Ilanipton Court BCTenl 
very fine and charaoteriatic pictures, which will give 
an excellent idea of his genera) manner; tho heet are 
Jacob's Joumoy and the Deluge. Mr. lU^rs potscesed 
tlie 'wo best picturits of thiN artist now in England, 
tlioy are »in«ill, but most Ix^autifnl, vivid as gemB iu 
]v>iut cf oolonr, v.-ith inorc dignity and feeling than ii^ 
uHuul : the r^ubjcets are, tlu Good Samaiitan, and Lh- 
ziiius ut the door of tbi? illch Man. Nothing could tempi 
IVissinn i'ioiii tbo li'.tlo na«iVf' t'>\v?i where ho flour! sin il. 
m\ u "i.. li, < .."I br 'H^li! vp >* vri.ioir us fjjLJly : IkmIk-i 

k •<«'_, 

All iIm .M' iiuju had original genius and tliat individii 
iility of I'liaractor which lends a vital interest to .ill 
l»j\MhioTi -us of art, whether the stylo bo elevated and 
itb il or c<.iiti7ie»l to tho imit<itir)n of common natnro : hil 
U> *h.m .' -u Ci <.M.u.' 1 •» i-aco "f nt:n.ici'i>1.s jir.d iiiiitatoib, *->.- 
ill :! .' (i.: I'lL- <K'.-c f'f ihe s' century all origin 
; lily .-e.iuid extin;^i.shed ut Venioo, as well as everv- 
wlwrc elhc : and horo we close the historv of thi* 
1 iiiliev n..ii)toi>i of Italy. 

Tiir: LM). 

UySl^..:: ; PKIMCD by W. rLi»WB» aki# moxs, ctaxford eruEfcr. 


Ai.r.EMARLB Strkkt, Lokdon'. 



ABBOTT'S (Rbv. J.) Philip Mosgraye ; or. Memoirs of a Church of 

EDfUnd Mbalonuy in the North AmericAn ColoniM. Post 8to. it, 

ABJERCBOMBIE'S (Johh) Enqairies eoneeming the Intellectual 
Powers and the InTestigation of Trath. Sixteenth SiUtUm, Fosp. 8to. 

Philosophy of the Moral Peelings. Twdfth 

XiHiim, Fcap.Sro. 4a. 

Pathological and Practical Besearches on the 

PisMfles of the Stomach, ^. Third Edition, Fcap. 8vo. 6«. 

AOLAKD*S (RiY. Charles) Popular Account of the Manners and 

Castoma of India. PostSro. 2s. 

ADOLPHUS'S (J. L.) Letters from Spain, in 1856 and 1857. 
PoatSro. lOs.ed. 

iBSOFS FABLES. A New Translation. With Historical 

Preikoe. Bj Rev. Thomas Jambs. With 100 Woodcuts, bj Tkvviki. 
and WoLV. 88(A T/tousand. Post 8to. 2s. 6d. 

AGRICULTURAL (The) Journal. Of the Royal Agricultural 

Society of England. 8vo. lOf. PubliMhedhalf-pearlp. 

AIDS TO FAITH : a Series of Essays. By various Writers. Edited 
by William Thomson, D.D., Lord Archbishop of York. 8to. 9s. 


BsT. H. L. Mavsbl— 0/1 JTiraeles. ' Iter. Gkorok Kawuksox— TXsiVii- 

Bishop Firza%UAL.D— Christian Evi- 

P«T. D«; McCaul— On Prophecy. 

Kev. F. G. Cook — Ideclogy and 

"Rer. Da. IfcCAUL— iftuaie Record 
of Creaiian. 

Abchdishop TH(»Md0N* — DoctruM of 

the Atonement. 
Rev. Habold Bbowxk— Oa /luptra* 

Bishop Ellicott— 5iertjpf ure and its 


AMBERr WITCH (The). The most interesting Trial for Witch- 
craft ever known. Translated from the German by Laot Dust 
GOROOV. Po^t 8vo. 2s. 

ARTHUR'S (Little) History of England. By Lady Calloott. 

liath Thottsand. With 20 Woodcuts. Fcap.8vo. 2s. Qd. 

ATKINSON'S (Mrs.) Recollections of Tartar Steppes and their 

Inhabitants. With Illustrations. Post &vo. I2s. 

AUNT IDA'S Walks and Talks ; a Stoty Book for Children. By 
a Laot. Woodcuts. 16mo. 6s, 

AUSTIN'S (Johr) Provircb of Jurisprudehce Ditsrxikbd; or. 

Philosophy of Positive Lav. Second Edition. 8vo. \os. 

Lectures on Jurisprudence. Being a Continofttion of 

the " Province of Jorlsprudeaoe Determined." 2 vols. 8vo. 

(Sarah) Fragments from German Prose Writers. 

With Biographical Notes. Post 8vo. 10*. 


tDHlRALTT PUBLICATIOKS ; luucd b; direction of the Lo(dt 

CnmoilMlOBen of th« Admlmllj ;— 
A HAKUAL OP BCIBNTIFIC ENQCMT, fcr tli« Um nf Tbi™1I««». 

IISUMi]..uidkaT. KuunflUu. nW 

1836 la IMT. Bojil 4ui. VU, (Uli. 




UX.— I. Bcwl-i KefrMHfln TiblM. 1 1 

11. r-Mm tat Bmyaant F.rran of ILA. >n« KSJ). U 

IdU Emm Bt LonEllDdf and E;dJ|iUc P.D. [ 

1S3T.~I. LonltUuii sf Btuea ud Colngi u (tut Tn> 

II. TtblafbromtrHngSLdnwllirtallMuBaluTfBa.i 

Lnullaia DfTalra'U. Si. 

TwalTc Y«ui' CiC^DIcna of SUn. Iti. 
lUL— HaA^rn'iLBlnrgfSUii. St. 
L DHCmpUn (If tba Tmxill Cirtis, Si^ 

II. KMBluk»«fib*IlormlOUarnloi7. S<. 

J. D«tf1ptln Bf Uia Zfidlb Tuba. Si^ ^| 

It. 61iYH»'Cu>lnKMar8i«>. lOt, ^H 

IBM).— DturtpUon of Ib> ailnnle Appudni ■( Omavlcb OC^ 

TIONS. IMOtalM?. RofilUa. fiOi.aieb. 



IM8tolue. 4to, Sa.Hcb. 

lISOIolSU. RDJiltUi. Ml. 


lolB3a. 9 Yds. Kojiltto. SUi.eub. 

. SJfc 





Z«h1«sI7IH. «1o. St.Ad. 




iiABKELTsrs Aococvr or Tm sonra or BUtauoini 


<■>. k.« 
TABO^ «OTtXM tOUa FT LFSLB. IIJO. «». (*. 

— . AjTBosoucu. aasERTATioss hade at oot- i 

TTSeEK. IXK nat B tl«. MM. roBi. Ti,M. I 

■UCnCAI. AUUXACS. ftvim ta UK Sn I 

^ EiLScnosa fsos tsb aoditioiib 

SCmXMBST^ l^toUB^ MB 1^108. 

— - TASL£ nfriilM to W SHi aHk tbi KU 

ronrs ASiBOsojncAi. owEKTATtoxs. i 

KAMSDCX'S E>CI!CK Sir Prr a o* Mats 

Ban'HSBVS TAOLCa fct riMi Lnu Dmuscn. tm. 


ll^ IW BCX. ^ W GTABA. IIS. rallB. U.M. 

TATIiM'S eBXAOEflnlAl. TABLm. IIMl 4m. lib 


ttxucn^ WH. «H>. tt. 

cnBoxoMcnucAi. ossHnrATioxs •» thmmbob 

•f iMismrs b«v«a Own, Fvanauvn. ui riiaiirn>. UH. 

TEXC3 V jn-tTER: 0«ebit»> i>C eoa;wW allk Aa TULW. 


i;iT- *lii* ttt. 
WAtIS' ttBDDtmOS t 


BA^BJ10E3 (CtaAua) Eonosir of lUcliiMi? Mid lUanbctiini. 

Kialh BridBemOcT TttUiiM. *t«. 9*. 6J. 

— ' BeOecUona vx th« Dedina aC 8tiM«e ia Bnsland, 

K1KIE% (W. B.)SAn»liTe<rf»nK*plorinsVoji«eBpllMBiT««< 

8' (On>«e«t Stoat or Com Cistli, wilh docoDcnu rcUtiag 


BABBOWS (Sii Job*) AntohlognpliicAl Ucmolr, inclnllBC 

lURadllnni, ObHrTftUou. tut RtmlBliMneu M Ilnm* »ad tAmi. 

Fmn Il^ulTl.l(au AdnsoidAt*. PnnnlL iia. IM. 
Vojvt** *f IHieo»ery uiil BoMvefa «HUin tke 

Atale lUtlim*, ftwn 18IS b> lh« viHit lima. Alutdc^d uhT u- 

naeMl nvm th* uaMd KtiTBllTei. gis. I&l 

- <8ni GtoKQi) Cejlon; Pitl •nil rrcKSl. Utf. 


Life ud Voj«ee« of Sir Fnncu Drak«. Tith nme- 

mui i>rt(ln>l Ullin. PoilS>a. Ii. 
BASSOMPIBRRB'S Menoin of hU Embauj to ll» ConH of 
Enitttad la ISM. TniuUlid irlUi NMM. B*d. Bi.H 

BABTIATS (FKKDmir) lUnooniw of Politic*! Kconooi!-. 

TnuliKd. win •NotlM'sr P.J.Bnuji.. 
Bro, ri.U. 

BATES' (H. W.) Katnnliit on th« Amuoa; AdreotuTc*, &od*l 

Kk-lchu, Mitm Lth.HiMl* «r jtnlBiK ■«« Ftttvat of NUnn !> Uw 
Tmpla rtntlaE »I«M jriu* b( Tnnl. lllBitnitli.M, J T»k. Pixl8w 

BEES AND FLOWERS. Tm Btuj^ B; Ror. Thomu /smM. 

Uaprlated frtim (be " IJntrMtlT KcTlew." I'eap, Bra. I<. cull. 
DELL'S (Stk CaiKLis) M«chuil«m *nd Tiul EndotrmEDU «f tio 

□tml u*vIiidn(Da>lti). AfHtSMifli. Wi>i>dcaU. rgsltn, b. 
BENEDICTS (JuLu) Sk«l«h ot tha ur« snd Woriu of Eelii 

UaaMufiiii-IlactlioUr. Smml ani-m. B*i>. ti.SJ. 
BERTHA'S Jonnul during k Ttnit to her Uncla in Rnglind. 

CnnUInliiE* V*rl*iyoriuiMMUn(*D>110)trugUTelD''oitiui|iiB. y w-iii 

fiA'tuM. WiMdmU. ISmo. 

EIRCn'S (SiMBii.) nUtory of Ancient Pottciy wid PotceUln : 

EKTrlitn. Anjrltn. r>r*itk, Soiau, uidStniKiiB. WlUitOOlUniln- 
tlsBi, IVoli, Uedloni Sro. 43i. 
BLUKT'S (TtiT. J. J.) PrinoiplM for the pTOper andnaUndiag nf 
tbs Mniak WriUnm, iUIi<d anil applidd, tn^elhal vlUi an Int4d»ul 
Aremnml lot Iha bnlli or Uia tUiutnsdna ol aor LarC Safsf tba 
BoLtntm LtcTuma Or IBSt. reaSro. Ci.tU. 

rndcilgned Ctaaeiitaata in th« WriUngi of the Old 

■nd Niir TaUmant, an Ar^mral "f thilr Vancllf : ■tlh in 
Appendix conlalniue ITsdailiBta ColnrjIilaiKii baiwcas tlia Oonprli, 
Aet:i,iiiidJaHpliu. JASdui^. roatSia. 

TiiHoTj of the Chnreh In the Firit Three Cenlnrien. 

Third BUtim. Foil Sra. T>. M. 

- Leetnrei on (he Right Uac of the Earlj Fuhen. 
uiMdJUltiaL BrvL IM. 

- Plain EenDoni Preuhcd to « Coontiy Congtug Mm. 

awlJBWIO.1. a Tali. I-aatBrn. J..BJ.e«h. ^^^ 

- Lilenuy Bsiaff, from the Qit»r(criy Jleric*. 


^CKSTONE'S COMMENTARIES od the Uws of Engluid. 
■ 'ipladlo lhep™miI>l«IoofOieU-. Rj R, « iUMin K^aa, LL.D. 
TjeiStin.a>Tneailolsei. t Vols, Bia, OSi. 
— For Stcnraw. Being tbose PorlioM which 

BOOK OF COMMON PIUTEB. IlluBtrate.I »ilb Borclen, I 


UOmtOW'S (OBOBaK) Bible in Spun; orthe Jounie;i,AdieQtar&i, 
SerlitDiu In (ba rsDiDBUIa, aVoli. PutSiii. tJ'.;ci FtifHlarSdiliBn. 

lArengTO ; The Scholar — The aipi?— aod ibe PrioeU 

Ponnll. flVoH. PoMS™. SOi. 

Boman; Bja ; a Seqael ta Larcn^o. <Sewn<( 

IVild W»lc9: iU People, Language, und Sctnerj. 

SVoll. PoBtSm 30l. 

Wiih Pcnond 

} Wiwdcuu d1 bta 

BRBWSTEB-a (3ii 

QBlUn, Trehi 

More Worlds than One. The Cieed of tbe Philo- 
■Dphar Hicl (he Hope of Hi* Cbiiiliui. EigUh lUiim. Foit Btd. Ct. 
- Stereoscope ; iU Hialorj, Theoij, Coiutnielion, 

Kaleidoicopc: ili History, Theory, and Comtmction, 

I Datid} HartftB of Scieacf, or the LiTcs c 


BRINE'S (L) Nar 

iii,l8«9,IDj.EdtDliiirgti,>. tnwtek, 

_ (. Hiin,in3,10(.H. LInrpwl, UH, Ut. 

QtaaCnv, leU, Ui. ; CbtUBBhwB, UU, le*.: I>nbllB. IBAT, Ih. : Uida. 
taa,K: AlwtdwB,ieS>,Ui. Oiltoid, leao. llaiidiuMt, if^- ■'- 

of the Biae and Progreu of (.he Toepiug 
BUTISH ASS0CIA.T1ON BEP0KT3. Sto. Verk knd Oifont 1 

IS3t-n,13l. M. ClmbiidM. 1S33, lis. Edtnbnnh, 1831, 15>. DaUlB, J 

183S, lai. e<(. Briitoi, ism, lai. Livi-Tpim!, isar. ie>.M. titnuii^ 1 

Uas, Ul. BlnnlnElum, UOS, I3>. M. CIlUKOir, ISM. lb. PlnUalh, 
lSU,ia>.U; MBDcbainr, ISU. tOLGi. Cork, ISU, lit.«t, 
"-. Cambridge, 1S46, lb. B«iU»iiipt«i, ISia. 1S<. Odbrd, 1B17, IBi. 
„ „ — ,__>._ ioj. tdtnf — - •— " "- * — *-■■ 


CALVIN'S (Jons) Life. Wiih ExlntcU from liii C«iTMpoikd«BN. 
1^ Tbohiii II. Dtu. Fonnli. Std. t^I. 

CALLCOrra (liici) Lltil* Anhort nui«i7 of EDfiind. 

IMU nnuuiU. with 10 WiaVoIi. Vimr.Hta. U.W. 
CABUIcnAEUS <A. V.) OrMk Verba. Thnr ?«niulloni, 

ImKuUritba.uiilDtfHU. asHrj Abim. Paneva. b.U. 
CA8TLEREA0U (Tut) DESPATCHES, rrom tli« oonmauoMBt 

Ufi. KdlodtFrUwIIiiiBi'iiurUjaun-rnuT. IXVoUBva. lb.«Ht. 

CATnOABTS (Sik Oio»si) CommenUrlM oa iho Ww ia Saab 

Ul4 Oonnur, 1B1M3. Fliru. tH'd. Iti. 

MiliUrr Openlioiu in K«trrart«, which ledUlkt 

T<nalutliiBB(lb« Kiflr Ww. SKM^Kdiidn. Std. lit. 
CATALCASELLG (0. B.). NoUcm gf lb« Kui; PlcmUli riinlcn; 

CIlAUBBltS' (Q. F,| UaDdhook of D<-«cnpUr« suil PncUul 

AafflUDiiiT. lllii.uiUtin*. I'uiieni. lb. 

CHANTRET (Sis Fba»cm). Winged WonlJ on CbuitreT'i W«*l. 

HHkt. E4IUdhr Jit.r.llniiucin. LicMn^ SiiutraRn. Mt.V. 
CHARMBI) KOE (Tni) ( or. The 8IAT7 of Ihs UUle Brollier ud 

CLAUSEWITZ-S (CiM. Vm) CuDpiign of 1812, la Bini. 

TruiiLaUd ban tb( Ganau trr l""! ELLiuaml. Uip.Sto.lteW. 
CUVE-S (Lotu) Life. BjRbt. Q.B. Glkio.U.A. PoABro. Z*.U 
COBBOLD'S (Ksr. K II.) Pictgm af the dunua dnwB by Uem- 

hIt». WIthllPltM.. CtDtaBTo. !U. 

C0LCHB3TEB (Tbi) PAPEBS. The Ciirr and Cont>pm<I«JM 

rrf ChtrlH Abboll, Lenl CatebsNr, epak^r ol ilia llnuM d< C-'uiiua, 
IBN-IMT. Edltidh; Hit Son. rnrtrill. S V^Ll «'a. iU. 
COLERIDGE'S (SiHuib Titmi) Tibli-Tklk. Svurdi jEUilicn. 

Portfmlt F»l 


r ffauoK) Introduetiftiw I 

COLONIAL LIBRARY. [Sm Home ud ColJnid Ubiur-f^ 
CODEBRT (MoMuDonmc). Founded on Prindplwof ~ 

•nd Fiwtial KnoirMgt^ lod ••Ltplnl f.>r Pritita FasbiH. ui > 
L(dr A^wKMiM. W<i^aailh rup.ern. Gi. 
CORNWALLIS (ThiJ Papcn and CorTcspondeKM iloribR ihe 
AnwrXUD Wu-.— Ailratiiiiintl^nt in IndU,— rnln«lth Inlwrf, u4 
PwMjfAmloM. JUIM »r CmiLU KOH. S^m* allium. tXt^ 

CBABBK'S(RiT. Qio)>ai)Ule,Utlen.uidJ<.iinit}a. ByfcitSov. 

PoHniL Fmiii.eTo. ti. 
— Poetie.1 Work*. With l.U ViU.' PUt«,'fl Tifc 

— Life soil Vcclieal Works. Plulet Rifal gro. 


CBORSB'3 (J. W.) ProgTHiiTfl Owgraphy for ChUdr 

Sloriei for Children, Selected from the Hitlon' of 

Esglud. J\fiiniiA£ilUim. WMdcun, ISma. Ji.aj. 

Botwell's Life of Johnsan. InclmJlng tbe Tout to Uia 

HelicUM. Pottnlu. Bo^il 8n>. lOi. 

LoKii HuiYBi's Memoire of Ui« Beign of Q«orge lbs 

asMd, tna hli Auuiloii ta the dulb al Qu«n CinUoe. EdlMd 
wlltaMolu. &«daiiwii. FsnniL H Vnli. t»D. »■. 

- Eauy* on the Earlj Period of the Frenth BeToluUon. 

. Uj. 

Bi»lori«al E«»r on ILe Guillotine. Pc«p. 8to. Is. 

CBOMWELL (OuvBH) and John Bunjan, By Eobim Sodthsi. 
CBOWffS (J.A,) NolieCB of the Enrlj- Flenjiali Paintert; their 

Poems and Song*. Not fint colleeled ftnd 

■Bgrd, wtlh Blngnptalo] KoUee. Mmo. Si. OI. 

(CiFT. J. D.t History of the SlkLi. 

Um OrUin of tb* N.Uon la t!» D 
Kipa. Std. Uj. 

CURETON (RiT.W.) Eemninii of n very Ancient RecenEion of 
tb* Faur auiwli in SirtDr. faiUiFtlo uakDnun tn Erirone, Sundered, 
t4tlM.>iid TiuiIXod. 410. au. 
CTIUft' (PiioritgoR) SLodenl'i Creek nrsmicu', for Qui use of 
ColUluind Ibc VpMr FDmii. TnnilVEd Fivm Iti? GormiD. £41I«1 
brIM- WH.Saita. P«IS». 

- Sm»llBrQrockQnuninM,iibridg(d from the iboye.lSiDo. 
SOITB (Hon. Bobirt) Visits to the Monuleriesoflhe iieruii. 

~ U^UWai. tVendculi. FhIBto. l&i. 

- A»miiu*irii EwMBopii, A TisronlheFrotiUeTsof 

FSra (Gi'»nui.l'Aiinsl»of Iho Wareof the Nineteenth Century 

of Ilie Wars of llic Kigl.'tccnlh Cst.lnty. 6 Vol*. 

LWIN'S (Ounlkc) Jonrnal of Itcsesrches into the NUunl 
Htiteir utf OgslncT of t1i> Cmmtria Tl>lic>d rl^irlDg > Voysfi muni tba 
■WwM. Ir-tt r*M«i-il. Po.t B.O. B.. 

Origin of Species by Means of NatoisJ Seleotion; 

■T. II* pKHtnllDiiof FuTDtind Bmm In tliB Slnef 1* (Or Lib. SrimlA 

Vsrioui ConlxivMcea by which Orchids »re Ferlili«cd 

fhiw^ In-Mt AfcMj, >i,d u 10 lbs Bood ot InurcioMlnf . WcudtuI^. 

.VIS' (TliTDAK) Ruined Cltioa within Niimiditui and Cntha- 

r<"ta Tirrl'.>rtu. Uup tai IlluilniUxx. S<o, lei. 
.Tt% <Sn UoHi-HiT) Consolations in Tiavel; or, I^t Difi 



UBLKFIEKBB'3 (OoutiQ Htmoij of Flemiili Lltcntnit ti 

lU »l>l>nt><4 Aoihon. Fron 

II TnUtb OoiUirj la ■»■ pc 

DENNIS' (Qiomb) CIUm ud Cematoriw of Etnui*. PtaloL 
DIXONS (Hamostu) SWty uf Ibu Uro of Lord Bmod. farlnlL 

l-oij.. Sill. ti. M 

DOO-BHKAElN^a: Uta Uoat EipAdHion*. CsrUin. ud E^f 
MtAid, wtialhiir KmU uaataBM « milr Biadiaarlty ba i«vJn4. Bf 
LtavT'Ouu. HoTvaiiKii, Tlurrf JJium. WhAbuu. PoMOn. ki. 

DOUESTIC HODEKK COOKKET. Founded on Priadplaa of 

msBnair w^ PncOBtl KnnlclM. and ataj^M fcr rrtrU* raUUn. 

DOUGLAS'S (Gmui. Bik RowiikD) TtmUh on lie Tbwtj 

andPlHUieDKiuaurr. /VUJIdUlciK. Flalai. Bto. tU. 
— TreHSie on Hlllurj Bridgei, mi tin I'uasn ol 

Sinn to IIIUU17 Opantiaiu. Tliirri JUiJ>«l PUKa. ftta, Ui, 
NkVftl W«rtk« with Slcun. Sectmd Edition. Sn. 

~ ■ Ufo ntid Ad»eiiHrr««; from hi» Noted, CoBTenwlioni, 

and Cnrmpnn^Fnu- lir "' W. Ttixam. Varxnit. Bto. 

OaiEB'S (Sh Fkinau) Ufe,To;ige<,M)d Espkiit>,b]r BmuI 

Land. DrJoDiBuimow, nMUUM. raatan. ti. 
DBIKKWATRK-9 <JoH>) SiMor; of llut Siega of Qjbnittr, 



ASBtml* or lUa Maiwara ana (,'u»«» of CI* INui)i'>. •a' <^ Uiathug 

nr On tinrlUl, IIh Kau-billliling ^pt, tblVpisMa, CrnaaJ iK '*- 

IVaU rt-Hinni. Illuitmllou. tm. 1I(. 
DUDLEY'S (Biu or) L«tt«n lo Ibe b(« BiAhop of LUndifi 

CiwWAHiiH. PoriraK. iro. Ifli.M. 
DDFFKRIN'S (Uis) I^ettcn from High UUtiidM, baibg Nma 


iiuL Sir Pbiuv) NivU Ufe v 

umiilli»B>T, Std. &•. M. 

U.) Life «ad hellen of Jobs OiMo. OonpUed 
miD ■uEDFntic^iini'i. ronnit. Etd. Ui. 

Hiitory of Hodera Enrope, from IJm ttklns of 

Dtaitnlinoptt b/ tha TotU to lb* eM« ef Iha Wb la tba Cilscs. 

EASTLAKE'S (Su CaisLis) lUlhkn Schooli of PtintlnK. From 

tb* Omnia of KDau*. Eitltad, ntlb Ksm. TIM CtfUM. Uliu- 

BASTWICK-3 (B. B) H^Iirtbook fcr Bomb*j' ud Uadni, Willi 

DLmtioniror Tnn-llen, Offixvra.^. Map. 1 Vola. ruitSis. Hi. 

EDWARDS' OV. a.) Vojage op thd Birer Amuon, indadiBg ■ 

VWCiePum. Pmllw. b, 

EaSBTO.V'3 (HoR. C*k. Ftivca) Jonrnd of m Wiiit«c'< Toot b 

IndU; ■ltb»Vliill6S-j«Bl. Wesdeul*. SYota. raatftra. Hi. 


XLDOH'3 (Lou) Pablio ftnd Private LIfs, with 8«leUtoiu from 
hli CotnnxindiBn ud Dlirin. Bj Elauos Tima. Tkird Edilim. 
Pennlt. IVnls. P»lGn. lit. 

KUO'TS (Hoa. W. O. C.) Kbuu of ths Ctinin. Beins a Nir- 
mtav« cf vt KmliMsT fmn FnduHek Ib« Gmt to tba Cswtl of Krim 
OvaL TmuUudtninilba Giniu. FWBis, (U. 

SLLI9 (fUr. W.) VialU lo MnUgiscar, inclnding a Joarney to 
Ik* CavlttI, irllb nolicri Kf NiiunI Hlntorr. ud PrCMnl C\'lU>Ulaii 
s( iba PaopI*. #)/U TVnunA Map ind Wwdcnu. Sto. Iti. 

(Um.) Ednoatioo of Chknuiur, nith Uials od Uonl 

Campaign of ISia Tn Buula, from th« Gcimaa 

orO>HnlCailYoiinauu>lu. Kip. »n>. lOi.ftf. 

Pilgrimage, and olher Poemi. Croini llo. 3tt. 

E««3j> on Hiitory, Biognpiij, GeogT»phy, and 

.EORlDHriDE. aio, lit. 

BLFHIKSTONEB (Uoa. MuDNnTDm) fiiitoiy of todii— tb« 

lUndiKi and UtlmmHUa PnlaiU. fnrtt £U>n«>. Map. 8to. ISi. 
BNOLAKD (HiRoRT or) ft«n tbe Pawe of Utncbl M U>« Peaoe 
jf ftpiiur failwi, I Vol«. FottSrs. "■ 

Prom tho Pint InTiaion lij- the Bomnoii. do» 

Ilia 1Mb TBir or Qwwn Vlclnria'i Bufgn. Bj Itu, MuuaiL 

r. Joiw 

EOTHEN; or, Tnccs of Trirel broDsbt Ilome from lbs EuE. 

EKSEINE^ (Aduiril) Joaraol of a CrnlM among the IiUdJi 
it th* WMIm Fadfic, iDtluJInc th* CaJeH, and Dllu>n Inhabiwd by 
Uia Polriwriu Kr«ii> Kuei. Plans, fito. ISi. 

ESKIMAUX and English VooabulATy, for Travellen in Ihe Arctic 
RugiDD.. Wno. S>.M. 

ESSATa PROM "THE TIJIIS." Beinp a Selection from tb« 

EJIETER'SfBisaor or) Letters to the lateCharlea Butler, on tbe 
TLaukiitlcal fMTli of lili Bunk rf Iha Soman CaCtulle ClinRh; *IIb 
panaof IbsETldnmonir.Dojilii. Stttvt mn'm . Byb.' Iti. 

FAIBT KINO; A CollecUoa of Talm and Stomm From th« 

atrnian. Br J, B, Tinsa. lUinlrMed br Siaaus Doiu. And 
FALENBK'3 (Pbid.) Hock Hanoal for the Uie of ^annen. X 


BRITian CLASSICS, i. New 6«nM of SUDdard Eogliib 

(nry aolEt. Viibhahei oeCMxivajtllj in dUDf Bto. Voluia«a, t-VF^S ^ 

GOLDSMITH'S VrORKS. EdlUd bf PiTU Cdxiuodu, FSA. 


Ce>»i«oniu, Fj*.A. SVoU. 11>;M. 
BYECIN'H POETICAL WORKS. Ed[M, allh NatH. « tdU. U(. 

^ iVfpQraf iiH. 
WORKS OP POFE. Wlih Life. IntialDclIonf, and Sata, by Kef. VBtf 

LIFE AND Works of swift, EdlHiJ by Joh Faun*. 
BKOUOTIAM'S; M,n.!,l ,V,l,lr?'a nt l]ip Social ScieiiC8;A«»0cUliMi, 


— ViciU to JliIj. Third Edition. 2 voU Port 


BDKBU11Y',S (C. J. F.) Jonroalof a ItEsIJenM atlhe 0«pB of Good 
I'.pr.: irlih I]i.cur.l™. imo II19 Intrrior, .n^l Nolei ooihi NstBfi 

raiTICE (Hnmtot^ Tnm Ihi V m^tA fcy tU 0—1* >o ti 
rmlirflMliniilin »y«i- " -"— — . — - 

I IMtltimQmamm. 

Ot mm m mDitia t> WIH CMBtrfM. AM MM^ W««- 
MU. PMlSn. Tj^U. 

GBOOEIPBTCII. (To) Jmt^L PkblUwt b? tfa Bonl flw 

Small or). Fran tbeIKTuioabJHul«■,(otk•pn■ 
>«. BTMrt.)uuBiB.ri>>iMrbwMA WMloiiiL ttecAi. 
tBBON'S (Snwiui) irulorj of lh« Dwliaa nd Fill of lh« 

" fin. A Xm EWiH. PnsrfiJ br Ua XaUMmnabr. 

iKo(H,b]rI>r.WB. Sam. Ktpi. S VslK Bn. fJi. 

<The SlDdent'i Gibhon) ; Being u Bplton* of th« 

■boTT •ork.lncwparmliiiillia RsMntitigf RfnolCoiBBHUlan. Of 
Dr. Wa. Shis. .Vi«i* nsiuui WokIcuU. 1^I8t« U M. 

OIFTABD'S rEnv^HK) Dm<Ii of Karal Dnrins: or, AufodaUa ol 

Ih* sniiib N(>7. KtvEillUaD. Feap.Sn. 
GOLDSMITH'S (Oij™i) Works. A No* BdiUon. PrlnUd fMrn 

tbt lul MiUona niiHd br Ui* Anlhar. G.I1i<mI ^t rnin Ccniiiva- 

SUL Vi(MItai. IVcIlBt*. SOi, (Mnm/'i BrtltiliCliiilu.) 
GLEIQ'3 [Bit. O. R.) Cunpi^gas of tbe nritbih Am^ at VTHblnc 

tEB u^ Ntw Orieua. PhiSvo, >i. 
Story of the B»ttlB of Waterloo. Compiled trom Pubtie 

utd AaUmidr: Bwircfli. P«C Sm. (i. M. 
' NsmliTe of Sir Kob«rt Silo'i Brigailo In Anj[hftn!atan, 
nnt<>rtluiec[inraaDdI>or«i>nof Jtll*laU>l. r«l Bva. «t. 

- Lif« of Boberl Lord Cllvo. Poal 8ro. Sa. A'/. 

- Life and Letters of 0«nerat Sir Thoniui Stunro. Pm( 

' OOBDOK'S (Sib Auk. Don) Sketche* of German Uk, and Bebdm 
fhn(iU»Wuorub>nUsB. Fmn ihcgarman, poal §T«. Si.U. 

(LiDT Dnir) Amboi- Witch : the mnai InUmtlns 

Trill fuf Wllihct»n aTBT knoirn. Fran IhaOcrman, rual»vo, ■•. 

Proocli in Algiora. 1. Tho Soldlor of tbo Foreign 

Lcefon. 1. TliB l-riaomsn al AlUH-KMU. Pnw) tltt rmeb. 
GOCORE'S (IIiKBT) Pem>nal Sarratire of Two Tanr*' ImprUod- 
(nAVTS fAuBii.) Ifwloriani, or the Lo«t TiibM ; eonUlnlag 

Erldanm at tbtir Idantltr, Uialr Muiaan, Cualnma, anil (^(mwnlH i 
vlUiBk>tehMnrTra>aMn AnUi!nlA>a]rrl4,An»i>k,iuIdM*iapntoaiU ; 
and lIlnalnlEona of Scrlptura Prtriiac^i TKir4 Kdiitsn. Kap. Mtv, 0-- 

14 U8T OK WU11K8 

0EBNV1I.LE (Tn«) PAPERS. Drfof iha FWiUe atti Print* 
<liinT'|-Mut''nn •' OMrg* nmiTllli. IMhiUnr Ui Fvt«tii DiitT. 
UltH tir W. J. Barm. 4 VbIl ^n. lOr. awh. 

OBEEK QBAMMA.E FOR SCHOOLS. Afarldg«d b«in Uatthia. 

ORETS (9i» Omuii) Poljrnw'um M]rUiol«er, ttul knAtnt 
■mdiUsMi Ulitot)' el the ittw ZnloiUl Kua. Wa>i4ad*. Fou 
»tD. lOf.M, 

CROTK'S (Oiouii) fflitorr of Orcc««. from Die Bul1«n TimM 

IteOnM. >bw«tJMiMaa. Ponnltul 3t>(M. Stsla. Em. tik. 
(Mw.) Meroolf of the U(e of tie Ulc Ary ScUftet. 

Annid BJUioa. PiiRntll. r<Mt iro. S>,B4. 

CollKled Pxpcra la PrcM ani Vene (Orifitul 

— niMoi7 of EoMp* dntlDg tla Uid(U« Ag»t 

nHi^niHoiL aT->ii. btb. mm. 

IMttKj n!itoT7 of Europe. dDiisg lbs lUtb, ISUi ud 

ITih Otilarlw, JTmrtk WUIai. » Vol^ Bw. *>^ 

l.iknry Eraaj* and ChaneUn. 9«leet<il Inm Uit 
lutiFWk. Fhf.Sto. K. 

UUtoricRl WorU HUlorj of Kn;laDil.— KUdlt^CM 

Df CiiRipi,— UMruT Illi|(HTo(lCuiTipa. IOVdIi. I\i«lln. b.aii^ 

-^ (AB*arii) BenMiui la V»iw »nj rnM. Willi Pro- 

hM. MfDiitr, knd FonrMt. (AWjfPii AiiliiAnl.) Wt*g.Sn. IlM. 
HAMILTOS'S (JiBia) Wwideringi in Northern Afrlci. B 

Crnne, Uw Ouli of ainta, Ac Viwlaiti. Pamt Sn, Ut. 
HAMPDEN-S (BiBBOP) RiUooophie*! B<ri<I«nc« of auktiiut;, 

or tbB CndlMUlT olHklftKd (a ■ Sortplun "— — "— " " '- 

HART'S ARMY LIST. (Ouartn^j-nmMni.KnSy.) »«>. 10*. 6d 

ud tl(. 

HAT^ (J. H. KiDimoiro) ffottem Barlary, ju wlU Tribw ud ■ 

uvigt Anlmil*. PuMSn, S>. 
]ii:l)Elt'9 (BwBop) Jonmej llirpiigli lheU[<T>rr PtorinoMoTlDilii, 

rnTlntw. 7W(/H£ti(^. JVolll. POKl S*o. T.. 

PoelEeal Worlu, Sixth EdUi"<i. Portrait Feip. 8t». St. 

P»ti»h Sermoni. Bhlh SdHion. 2 V'olfc Put Sto. IB*. 

SonnoM Preached in Eo^>iid.&«onrf BdM<ai. 6 «. iMtA 


HAKD-BOOE— TBAVBI/-TALE. EoglUli, a«nu>n, French.u 

IMlUn, ISmo. Bj.M. 

— PAINTING. The Qermkii. Flemiih' and Dntcb 

SWITZERLAND, Alps of Siroy, mud PioduonL 

MVt. Pom Sro. 9: 

FRANCE, Nonnaadj, BritUny, tli« French Alp«, 

lb* Ri*u« Loin, Bdn*, KtMiH^ ud amniis, ])*iipUg4, rrornu*, uid 
OurlYnaK*. Mipi. PottSio. Ida. 

PARIS AID Its Ehtiupbb. liap. Post S-ro. (jVcarly 

- SPAIK, Andalusia, Bonda, Oranada, Tateneia, 

CinlonU, Billleli. kmgon, and NiTun. Mmpi. S Voli. FmI 8td. SOj, 

PORTUOAL, LiBDoi, &c Map. Poal 8to. te. 

— NORTH ITALY, Piedmont, Lisuria, Venetia, 

- BOUE ABD m Ektibos«, Uap. Post Sro. a«. 

- SOUTH ITALY, Two 8Joilie», Napl««, Pompeii, 

EJlttd by RiLTB WuuLii. W!Un.Cb4rt. Po«9vo.a>.M. 
GREECE, the Ionian lalandi, Albania, Theasalr, 
UindonlL Kipi. FuHBto. tit. 

TCRKEY, 'Malta, Asia Minor, Constantinople, 
)l«Mi(wtvid4. te. Uip*. PMtBn. (ItOiPrtu) 
EGYPT, Thebes, the Nile, Alexandria, Cairo, 
I>jniii1ili. HmmtBlBil. Ae. Ump. FaBESni. lU. 
- SYRIA k PALESTINE. Peninsula of Sinai, Edom, 

Map. 2 ToU. Post 

BENMABK, Ndbwat and Svanu. Maps. P^d 

KIJB3IA. Tu^iLttc an Fivuix. Hips. FOst 


HAiro-BOOK-KENT AND SUSSEX, CABtcrbittT, Dover, B.IM. 

"^^'mODBEhIoSDOK. a Complete Quia, to ill 

■tirSlckuudOtiJn»c(lBl«n*ll>itl»H*t»paUii. Kip. lAion, 

~ LONDON, Pwr urn Fwrnturt. Steond EdiUm. 

WESTMINSTER ABBKT. Woudenl*. Idmo. I.. 

- ENVlEOSa OP LONDON. MBpfc Pwt Sro. 


tn. Mir. PnclSro. U M. 
m DEVOK AND (lOltNWALL, KieUr, nfriBdmbt, 



n<riSdilim. Ta.j.Oi-.. 4.. 

HEAD'S (3iK FuRcia) noKc nnd U* Rider. FoodcuU. Poit 

iupid iooxat^t urOM the pRmpu utd ov^ the Anda. 

iWriptite E»my«. 2 Vol", Poit 8to. 18* 

Bobble* from the Btunnei. of N««»b. Bj m Ou, Mas. 

^Kmignuit. Frap.Sro. 2.. 6<t 

StokeM >ud Pokers; or, the NorUi-W«l«m EiUifiy. 

Deftnocio- SUle of Gn*l BriWn. Pott 8to. 12i. 

^ FsgRot of FrencU Stklo ; or, Sketclic* of Piris. 

Portniglit In In,lui.l. M»p. 8to. 12*, 

(Bi» Gtow«) ForMt Scene* nad IneideaU in C*B»d». 

(S« EDKtim)) 6L»I1 Md Vill; or. Tiro Cbip^^^H 

F<tan>Ai<>IIIii7V(rl:>, r»|,. Syd. j^^H 


HEIBES3 (TH>)iii HerMisoritr; or. Tin ProsraM or Ohmotei. 

HSBODOTTJS. X Nev Engliah Tenioo. :Edit«d vitb KotM 

Md Emit'. Witoricil. ellii ■" " .. . _ _ _ 

K.iru«c.!., ualiltd bf Si 

lliiw^pfalnl, tnd gSDcnplital. 

HICElLAira (Wh.) Treatise on the Law and PncUct of Iftinl 

Ctmrt«H»iU»l. Bre. lOi.ft/. 
HILLABD'S (O. S.) Six Uontlis in lUl;. 2 Tola. Pest Sro. lb. 
HOLL WAT'S (J. O.) Month ia Norway. Fcap. Sto. 2* 
HOFET BEE CTna). An Enay. By B«t. Thoiub Juiai, 

Saprfntedrrom tbB"QD(iUrl7B«Tle*." Fup.flTo. U. J 

HOOK'S Pkis) CUurch DictiooAry. £ighlh Kdilitm. 8to. 1««I 

— DiBCoanai on the Beiigious CoiitroTenies of the D^fi^ 

8to. U. I 

(TaioDOBj) Life. By J. Q.LociniBi, Eeprintcd from iha 

HOOKER'S (Dr.I. D.) Himalayui JonnuJi ; or, KoteBofui Oriental 

Nainnlin in Beigtl. tt>« Blkklm >nd Kspil Hludiyu, the Kliulft 

HsoDtalDi, iK. Stcmi EdiUait. Wsodcau. t VoU. Kal Bid. 
HOOPER'S (LiMTT.) Ten Montis among the Tent* of the Tnikl ; 

irllh Inddenta dT an AreKe B»t Eip<9dllloD In Seucb nf Sir Joha 

FnnkUo. FIiUi. Std. If. 
H0PE3 (1. J. BBEI.1F0BD) English Caihcdral of Uie Niiiel«entb 

Cnituy. Witb lUuiInUdiu. Sro, lli. 
HOBACE (Works oF). Edited by Dbas Miutui. ffitb SOO 

Woodeuts. Croioi 8vo. Sl». 
(Uf« ot). By DiiK MiLiUH. WoodcaU, and cotoared 

Borden. Btd. 81. 

HtTME'S (DiTin) Hiitorj of England, From the Inraiion of Jolioa 

C«u to lbs lt«To)glli>ii dF IS§«. Abddgid foi Slodanu. CarncHns 
hll irroiB, lad conliuiud to IBAS. Taalrfifi^ I^nmixl. Koodenu. 

EDTOHUfSON (Col.) on the most' expeditions, ceriAin, and 
•urMalbndorDog-Bnikldg. rMnl£iiEt«. Woodeutl. I-miSto. Ri. 

HOTTON'9 (H.E.) PrincipiaGrawa; on lotnHlnclion to theStady 

vllb ToealinUiUi. Siim4 JUilitn. limo. 3/. 




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fiULBS" (Bet. Teokas) Fablea at JBaap, A Kev Tmuhtion, iritl 
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JS3SE3 (Etivf«RD) Scenes indOeeupstioQ* of Conntrj life. Third 

SJili«L WoodoiU. Fap-BTO. et. 
QlcaniD^ in Kalatti Hietorj. EightK EdiUtnu Fcap 


- Lires of the most emineDt Englieh Poets. Edited 

JOHNSTON-9 (Wit.) EngUnd t Social. PoUUcal. ud ludDgtrl&l, 

JOUBNAL OP A NATDIIALIST, Fourth Sdilvm. Woodonti. 

pMtSvo. ai.Bi. 
JOWBTT (Rer. B.) on St. Pwil's EpistlM to tha Thestalaniuif, 

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Ptodmont. lU^uIntiimi. Crg>BH>o. IS>. 

IT. C. W.) Antique Getna ; Ibeir Origin, Use, and 

itwmlaia o( AoD^tnt Illifi.ry, m 

KISG EDWAED VIth'« Latin Onimniar; or, sn lotrodnction 



EH Aprs (J. A.) Eogluli ItooU and Rinificalioat ; or. lb 
EUOLER'A lUliHQ Schoob of PmdUhk. Ejiwd, «itli Xot«i,V)' 

Bis Ciimuil Etrri.tii TJtir^ XMttm. Wiataita. >Tsl*. ta 
Std. 30>. 

- Gensu. Dalcb, •od Plemjih Scbooli of FuBllu, 

LABAKTE-9 (M. Jci^) Huidbook of (he ArUofUialliddlci^ 

ud KhwUhuk. Willi UO VTotdoiU. Bra. IS*. 
LABOKDE'3 (Laotr us) Jovntj tlinmgb Arabift PetnH, to Uoimt 
euui, uii tha l^af u^ Cllr <^ PBtnM,~Uia Edam gf Ib« 1-nfkwlat. 

LATIN GRAMUAB (Ki>a Edwiui Vita'*}. Pm tlw Uh of 

Hlhnnll. *V^inM JUHM. ItnD. 3<.M. 

— ^ — - Vint Book (Kt«a Enwtw. VlTB^a) ; or, tbo Asoidauc. 
Bynt*!. ui4 Ptwodf, wlUi RBgllsli Tnnilktkia fof Jiuklof Oom, 

LATARD'S (A. H.) KliwTch Mid Ita RcmUiui. Bda« t Kar 

ntJrs af RaMuabu uiit OlmxrvrlH unldn Iba Kulu a( Xmjr^ 
WJItiiiiAaaoiiDlorihaCbalilauiChrinlaMDrKiinUMu; tlwYMidli 
— "— " -mhlppan; v>i in Eocjulfj ■--■■--- - - - - 

LHTrtui. »M» mi«. n*tH ana Vi 
— NineTah ud Babjlon ; baiag tli« Itwsll 

SMonfl EipedJllOB 10 AhTtU. /Wi-(-n.l* nwHA Ptolti. 

Popotkr Aoconat «f Ninereh. 15fA iMitfm. Witb 

Tniol* in Northern Giesce. M«p3. 4 Vol* Sto. 0Ojl 

— Disputed Quutioaa of Ancient Qtoanpbr. Ubd, 

Bto. »..«*. -B—r-M i~ 

— Noiniflmala IlellenicB, and Bupplonient Completins 

■ da«eri|.MTr COaloai.a „f Ti.»lva TMBMnd Gtack Colu «ltB 
KnlH GeoitiaiiLlul uit IJi.lnj|(*U Willi Hip uidApTadii. (to 

— ■ Petoponnwisw. iro, lt#. 

— On (ho Depnd&tSon of Science in Eo^uid. Sro. 8* Si 

LETTEH3 FKOM THE BALTia Bj a Unr. Po^t 8to. ^ 
IfiDBn ; or, Life and Attiuien la 


LETTERS from Siihbi Lmbk. * 
D7 • LiiiT. EJIUd by Ura. Nonio 

HeiJ Quirtets; 

In the Crime*. by * ST,r» Or 

LKXINGTON (Tfl«) PAPEB3 ; or. 

tten to Friend* «t Hi 
The BcaliticB of Uio Wir 

LEWIS' (Sir G. C.) EiMy on the OoTcnuDent »C DependendM. 

— Qlossarj of Provinclil Words need in Horefotdaliire uid 

•omsBf Uis>4JDlDlngCoDnUH. lamo. tt.M. 

(LiDT TaiRmi) Friends uid ConLemporariei of Ihs 

I-ord ChMMlIor Cl»rendon, IlliutnUTS of PortrmiH In hll G.HMJ, 
Willi k LMMriptlve Awmnt oF Iha rictuni, ud Origin of Iha CsU«- 

(M. G.) Jonmal of a, Sesidaice unong; the 'Stgnet in tb« 

WDiIIndlu. P«tGTo. a<. 
LIDDELL'S (Dun) RUlor? of Borne. From the Eeriiesl Time* 

Stndenfa Historj of Rome. Abridged from the 

LIKDSAT'S (Ijord) Lives of the Lindufi ; or, a Klemolr of the 
HiiaM»orCnnrfiiriBiidP«I«iTei. WI!hEilr»i!t«aiHqOIIltL.lPi 

Heport of the Claim of Junet, Earl of Cranfiird 

Buleimn, M tba OrlglaKl Duk«daiu uf UntiliMie, ovilad in 11S8.' 

Folio. ISi. 
— — SceplicUm ; a lielroereasiTa MoTemcnt in Theology 

■nd PhllMCOpliT- 8to. 81. 
I.ISPINGS from LOW LATITUDES; or, the Jonmri of tie Hon. 


LITI^nSTONE'S (Kky. Dr.) Uiwiocarj TraveU Rod KuearcliM 
!a 3<intb Afriu ; lodailing ■ SkcUti of Slimen Y 

L«nda no tbs Wol'coui; i1mi>«! «n»a the Ci 
Ainr Zimbnat. Id (ht Euiera Oceu. TAirHii 

— Popolw Ace* 


vDi of TnveU io South Afrloa. 

Anthor of " Lettoi* from tha 

ICKHARTS (J. 0.) Andetit SpuuBb BRlIodi. Hutorical 
— . ... jii^.. . . ,.. 



- — —~— Life of Robert Bums. Fi^ Editton. Fcap, e»oi. ii^M 

LO:iDOK'S (BuHOP of). Dangers 'nnd Safeguard* of ModentT 
Thanln^. CnnulnlnE SaneilloDI to Ibg ThultglcU SlDdonl d ' 
proenl dlffiailtUt. Bra. Si. 


a OudcniiiK for lAdiok VU 
„ .. ..arum* [ME™ 

1 Popnlir IntrodaclloD I 

LOIRE'S {StK Hddros) l^tUn tail Jounutlt, daring the Cqilnttj 
tfXlpDlMB U ei. Iltl4iu. rij Wn.LLU FcutTM. Fialnlt ITok. 

LCCKiroWi A lA^ft Kuj of ibc Sitgt. /bwtl TJiatmmL 
LTBLL'S (Itn Oit*mua) PriMlplM of 0»o1ok;; or, tib* Utdsm 

Chiofn of l)ia Gwtlnuul 1» UlwlilUBta eantitarai *i lUubiUT* i[ 
a»lucr. /toM fHillim. Vli-oOeaU. en>. IS>. 

— VWt* to the IlBiltd atatAx, 16*1-48. j;«o«<i f^fitiM. 

' FbtM. * Vol*. pMtew. II«. 
Geological ETiiltDora of tbc JLntlqully of Mm. 

» ll1r.>l 

(.r Krrli 

- "For 
. POilBi 

I rill, «iih Eztncu ftva 

III « \'oU. l^wien. «», 

' uf Uie Bcbdlion la Sm> 

. Ulitor? cfBriiJitbtndl* l!ram itnOrigSD until* pMca 
m I'M. r«iit«T<>. ti.U. 
— RUloryofilio Viroftl>(Siiee«MioiilBSp«iii. SMmd 

Kdilim. Kip. tro. 1K(. 

Sjiftllt oniler CliKrIoii lli« Soeoiiil ; or, ExtncU Ihna Ue 

C^ammadauc af ilia Hm. «L»in<» STinBore. Bilijili KIslMa ii 
MadtM ftuo lOKI Id irOU, Siun^ KAtln. Poll Sm. Oi. U 

Lih of lionif, Prln«a of Condi, mununed tit« Ore«L 

FMien. Si. fid. 

Ufe of BeliKrlni. SmmJ Kdilion. Po«t Bro. lOf. W, 

nutorioal mil CriUcitl tumvK Po«t8To. 3*64 

Story of JoU) ol An. Fonp. 8vo, 1». 

J»il4re»tw Dtlivered tt Uaoolieitor. Lm^*, m"1 Bir- 

■nlathim, Fup. Srr). U. 
M'CLINTOCK-8 ^C*M. Sib T. L,) NamtiTe of tho Dtooowj- of 

lix l^itt uf sir John Ftultllii and hl> CnnrxiIsM In ilia iretle E<«.. 
. _ t^'-Vt* Tiimttmt. Illo<lr.u™. Bto. lb. 

MeCOBB (Bit. Dk.) on the IntnlUT* CooTtcUoM of Uie Kind ia- 
M'CT)LU)cir6''(!r II) CollMtod EdlilDD of Bioiuto't PoUUcd 

triaU. WlU>K«l«aD41(a.(ilT. Uttmd&IUHm. Bm. 1«<, 
MAINE {H.'Sohmsil) on Anoianl U»: Ua ConntoUoii witli Uic 
^tljr muBTj at Borlal)-, ud tu Eclatioo In Muhrn Idua. SKm4 

UALCOUI-g (3n Jran) Sketchu of Penta. Third MdUion. 

MANBEL (B«T. H. L.) Limit, of BeWglone nooght Ei»m(ntd. 
llalBit (ba BaaptM Ltrtiina hir IfM. Awl« £UA» Pc™i(^- " *• 
UAKTELL-S (OtoioR A.) ThooKlibi on Aniuidculo* , 


SVAL OP SCIENTIFIC BN(JIIIBT, Prep«r«l tor the V»t of 
OIlMn BDd TniwllBn. Br vitlaui WrtWn. EiliMd by Sir J. f. 
Umncanu •ad U«v. a. U*». 7*ir<l JUIHn. Uoh. Foil Bvo, 9i. 
(AdtldM iy onto- d/ Lkt Lam, e/ U. AfkiruUy.) 

(Mu.) Histoty of En^ud. From tie Pimt lnT»- 

■tOB IiT Ih* RdoisDa, down u Uia tvurUEDtli jwu of q^ma Yletsito'i. 
- History of France. From the CotiquMt bf the OmiIi, 

toIh»D(»Uiof LcmisPliiUjiiw. auM^aa . . _ 

HAsMtj of Ovnnuij. From the lanaoa by Marine 

»l)l»p™«nirlln«. ti/lrrfll, aUua. WoodaiU. HBO. «i. 

— HiBlory of Greece. From the Ewliest Time^j 

(CiiwkKis, K.) TntTelB Sa Pom and India, for the 

PorvoH of E'<IlMtlB( ClMbou PliaU, anil lnu.idDciDe Uuk iau 

LBKUITD'S (J. B.) ficTereniM dae to Holy PUeei. Third 

JUfUM. FtMf.Bya. St. 
iBBTAT^ (Jobub) Hietoty of Uodem ud MeduemI Potter; 

(Bd VrmeMn. With n [wtcripIlAii of Us Uuurulnni. fdnkt 

AfiKrM. l^iMi mA VVoodniU. 6n. 3li, U. 

(Ho&iDi) RoEidence in JotluiJ. the DuiUh lalea, 

wid Copmhiitcii. illiiilTitlODL 3 Voli. Poitem. Ml. 

■ — — Year in 3weden, including & Ti»it to the Isle 

of Golhluul. mnilratiun*. 9 Vols. I'oit Sro. 3si. 

LTTBIfS (Adddstos} Greek Qmnmu for Seboolk Abridged 
boaUwIdrgsianinmu'. Bj BloinSeU. Sinlh SdUiiit. Berlaad by 
EpvAUw. Itmo. it. t 

n the ChuMter, ActlosK, and Writing* 

HAWK'S (H. L.) Jonmal of a Pustgo &«m the PmoGc 

■d4M Oh »i»n»< or 

AYNE'S (R. C.) Four Years in BriUnh CoIamUa and 
KsHDini for C'loiii.iLhoD. M>p>nd lUioUm^'. Srn. )<•. 
S (Bk.) Pstholo^'y of the Hnioaa Mind. Fcftp. Svo. U. 
lliYILLE'S (Il»Kiiia) Typsa and Onunt; or, Adreat 
■BODBittlie Uuqii«uiiinAdimASutaliiod>. tVota. Ponetl. 
ENDBLSSOHN'a Life. By Jouts BnrmDioT, Sto, 2«. ad. 
!BBD1TH'3 (Mrs. Chiklgs) Notes uid Sketch^ of New Sonlli 
WilM,darln(!itEtMlileitMlV<nol89lol8M. P'XtSn. !■. 

Tasmani.i, dnrini ■ BeaideDce of Sine Yb«m. 

WItb lUaaUiiluiii. t Vuli. Poll an. ie>. 
[ESRIFIRLD (Mxa.) un Uie Arts cf Funtlns in Oil. Hlniatnre, 
tlvuLc. noil fildM: litMiKK. Dr*!""' ■<") "" Pn|»nlli>ii o( Cokium 
■adArtlEGUI<jniD>,ilciojnbeilliiKTiml olilMuiimripu. 1 Vol*. Sni. 



ISIAH <THE). Bj Anthor of the "life of BUhop Esb.* 

I UITCilELL'S (TnoiuB) Fliji of Aii»toplian«e. Witb I 

Hotu. FBOOB. Bfo. I»f. 
I UlLU AN'S (Dus) tllitat7 of Latin Cliiiiliuuty ; iniaudjng tl 

of U* Poiwtlo On l'uniiflo»t»otSicholM V. &cb^," ""■■ 

IlUtorj of Iho Jcns.^TougUtion'ti to Modern Tintf^ 

CtuTMltr and Condact of Lbe AposUea coniidcred h 

*n EildinMuf CtarliUkiUIT. On. KU.fld. 

Lifo mod lVork« of Horace. With 300 ffootUnti 

SftiX4Ui<m. SVoli. CrewnSvo. 30.. 

PoeUeal Work*. Plalw. 8 Vol*, rop. 8to. ISi. 

— ~- Fallof Jeniioleai. Fuap. 8to. U. 

(Cam. B. a.) Wajtido Crois ; or, Ibc lUid of Oomei. 

ATolgor thaCirllit Wur. PnlSro. 2<, 

I UODEKN DOMESTIC COOKBBT. Foanded on PrlnciplM tt 
E(»ii0Bi7«ndPrMUc»lKl«i»l<^ge,iind »d«lilrd (or PrSru* riBtllM. 
Nw £d>fwn. WoodiiDU. FMp. 8vo. U. 

I UOLTKE'S (Biroh) RnKdwi Campugni «tt th« Danube and tii» 
PuHg«artli<Bi1liui,]8I»4. rUiu. Std. lU. 


or"Bun1lKfalllirr>iig1illie Ul>t." Vraxknli. Ifinxi. 4i. " 

MOORE'S (TnoHis) Life ud Letters of Lord Bjron. Cold 

" KJiliim. Pi.iM. OVol*. FMp.avn. IS-. 

- Life »nd I.*tt«ri of Lord Byroo. rorlntiw, " 
>, 9m. 

MOTLEY'S (J. L.] Oiitorf of tlie United NelherUnd*; fromi 

"- —■'fun ihB Silent H the Bjnud of n..o, —■—.--« 

iilr..ei[le ixiiliul Sp.ln; «iJ m deUIUi 
I*. /W« JTa-MM. PortTMli. HYo' 

I UOZLEY'S (Rrv. J. B.) Treatise on the Aag^sUnUn Docln 

' ■■ dullMtlOD. Sn>. Hi. 

- FriiniUye Doetrioe of Baptismal Eegcnecation. 

Br FuDi 

lUUHDY'S (Oia.) Pen and Pencil Skotchei daring a '. 
I In IndlL mm EUiiitiL. Pliui. Put Sis. 7*.M. 

f KUHBO'S (OaHEBAt. SiK Tbohas) Ufe and Letter*. Bjr tli« Bir. 
■ U. R.aciio. PulSro, 3t.U. 

I UURCHISOII'S (Sib Rodirice) Ituuia in Eiirotie and the tJral 
UDnaUlini; GeoloslciilT riuit»uri, Witb Colmind Uapi, InUH, 
BeMloM, Ae. SVoH. Vt"'*"- _ . 

Siluria : or, a Hiatory of the Oldest Eocka eon- 

UlolDSOrguiliiReliullu. nird EMliei. Unp tod PUtu. Std. Ui. 

ItlTBRAT'S (Capt. A.) Niiral Life ud SerncM of Admiral Sir 

FbUlp DnrbuD. Bto. 6m. 6i. 
jCtJSIO AND DBESS. Two Eauf s, b; a I^j. Bepnnlid from 

lli«"qii«rWriy ROTlBB." Fwp.Bvo. li. 
■JTAPIBK'S (Sib W«.) Engluh BalUei and Siegeii of UieVeaiiUDUT 

War. ntnl SiiiioK. FonnlL PulSrn. lOi.ej. 
-^— Life snd Letters. Edilad by H. A. Bnncit, M.P. 

2TAUTICAL ALSUKACKfThe). Kojal 8to. 2*. Sti. {Publiehtd 
KAVT LIST (The Quarterlj). (PuHu/u-d t« .JuiAwTf^) 
SELSOS (KoBiM), Memoir of Uia Life and Timet Bj Kov. C. T. 

mCWBOLD'S (LaDT.) Straiu of Malacua, reoADE, and Singapore. 

araWDEOATE-S (C. N.) CuHl^m.' T^rifli of all Nalioai; eolleoMd 

'HIOHOLLS' (Sin OEonoa) Ili&tory ot tb« English Poot-Lst*. 

— Hiatory of lbs IriBii Poor-Law. Svo. li* 

HirtoveflkeSaotcb Poot-Lttw. Bvo. 12*. 

— (Rev. H. 0.) Hiiterical and Deieripti 

orUiB ronwtof DMnifmiiHnnrcMPiibr- "-■-- ■ 

Local. 'Wooicva.Ae. I'oitSio, IM.U. 
.inOOIiAS' (Su BiBKU) Historic Peerage of England. 

N«w Edillcm of tlifl " £jnD]MlJi of Ibfl Pft«r#£V-" SfiTlKd Ar 

tire AcGon^^^l 
land. Eiki- 

pVONNOR'S (B.) Field Sporta of France ; or. Hunting, ShDotin;, 

■D^FIsUneoD thoCoDtloenL WoodcDU. Uma, Ti.Sil. 
"IXEHHAM'S (Ekt. W.) English Notes for Utin Elegiacs ; dewpned 
ftr aviy I'mltctenli In ihe An of Ltdo Vrn[5utluii, Hith Prcritorr 
Kniu of Cnnpoiltlaaiu ElggluUctn. PovlMiiiti<m. tZiso. 

PAGETB (Jdb>) Hiin«U7 and TmwjlntLtiL Wuh Bomatb « 

WoDdEnu. 3 Vuti. am. Ite. 

PiBlS' (D(.) rhilMoplqr la Sport lu^ % 

PESI;i . .-tore, and tb* 

PEUKi ■■•■orindin. Wllh ExliKts 

PniLLlPS' (JoB>) M«iuain of HklUno SmiUi, U4.O. (tfaa Ceo- 
— Geology of YorkdiiTe, The Yorksbiro CoMt, uid tbe 

Usiratilii-Unulnni l>l>ui(;<. Plun. 4to. l-ul l.,30>. -riR tL,Ui, 

Bivon, MonnUliu, Bid 8«t CoMt of Yorkshire. 

WIUi i:uMri DD lb* CIlDib, Sourr, ni<] Aiidtni lohiblluiUoritiB 
€<Ham. 8m>^ MiliH. ullb M Plau*, S>a. IBi. 
- (March.) Jurupnideneo. Sto, 

Pmi.POTT-8 fB"T. '■>*'"* -n I-,- VV^rU. ft,..1,r „0 tl,( 

ThtxIOflctl I- ' - >IU. 

PH1PP8* (HoK. i r- lad 

CnVUhUiLtJ l,.i., .-.L , iiu. ai 

POPE'S (AunAsnUk) l^a uud WurVn. .rl A>a> £.^u.m>. Coa- 
UlMni iMirlf (WO imyBblbhid Lrll*n. E<U^ 'Uli ■ -Viv I-in, 
Inira^Ktinin und ttouw. B/ Kcv. WniTnu. Uiitk. PErtnlB. 


i>rihrOi>i(r*pliT.iil(liin>.*BainIi1w>, aDelRhiliitaaue^iliMtCaintrtd, 
HKptiinnKnTmiiU, tunn, inilibi SrrttaUwin. !■■[& ITsli. 

(Km.) Bftliooal ArilbmrUo for ScbMl* mt ftr 

PrOUB Initncilon. Itoo. «..«i 

PBATP.B-BOOK (Th« llltutntod). witlilOOO tUnstntlMuorBM. 


PB00BES3 OP RUSSIA IN THE EAST. An Hutorical Sum. 

?XJ8S IN BOOTS. Witb 12 HlDslraUoiu ; for Old uid Yoaug, 

Dj Ott.. ar«r«ii. IBmo. Ij.ej,; or Ci>l0Lired,»..M. 


^.WLINaOH'S (Rsr. OiWBaB) Heradotiu;. A New EnglUh 
Yanloa. EdIIrd wllh N°te> ud Fjur>. AulnUd by Sm llmix 
Kawuiuh (Dil S» J. a. WiLxtmov. Amid £^iiia>. Uapi utd 
Woodcut. « Voli, a*o. 481. 

Hiiiarioal BvideaeM of the troth of (be Scriptore 

KauM^iU^jui^v, vlibapAclalnfereDcvUi thuElonbtouid'^'-'--''' — 
pf Moduli Tloifd ; the DampIOD IfKUiru £jrlflDfi< &e0i«d£ 

SKJKCTED ADDRESSES (Thi). By Jun urn Houm 3i 

lUCAEDO'S (David) PoliU<il Works. With > Nc'uco of 'hia 

Life4nd Writing). B; J. B-U'CtTLLuca. Xttt £Marm. S*a ISt. 
SiPA'S (Fatrbr) Memoin durmg Tturleea Yean' Kcudeues si lfa< 

Conn of Pekine. Crom tli« tulluu FottSro. I>. 
BOBEBTSON'3 (Cueob) HUtory of the ChrutUn Chtitdi, From 
Ibi AwutoKn An to Ibn Coneardal of Wonai, aji. 1119. &«ihI 
UUiiw. »VdU. Bto. 3Si. 

^^ — Lifo of BeekeL IlIaBtratioas, Post 8*0. S». 

fiOBDISOira (Riv. Dr.) BibUcal Retauche* in the Bo\j 

BOMILLrs (Su Sakdii.) Memoin and PoliUcal DU17. Bj 

Bon. ThirJ Edilim. Portrilt. 3 VoU. F«ip, Bra, Iti. 
&0S83 (gn Jakm) Voyage of Dlaoover; ud Bcseudi In l&t 

Seulhirniiiid AiitirctlcRct:lflO(,18t»'iS. PUtH. IVoli. Std. Ui. 
BOWLAKD'S (David) Muniul of Ihe Eogliiih CoiutiliiUaa ; ■ 

RcTiEKDriit [(iic,Orowlli,>DdFn>Dnt SUM. PailSto. lOi.OL 
IUNDELL'3 (Uis.) DomeeUc Cookeiy, founded dd Principles 

of ECDDomyuidPtnctUe, ind idiipUd for Prints FunlUls, Xtnaiid 

BrtiHM Rlillm. WnadeiiU. P«p.STa. Si. 
KDSSELL'S (J. EGTBiftrirBD, M.D.) An of Mtd!ciD«— Ila Historj 

ud III k>ro">. Portnlls. Sro. ll>. 

~~IIA,- A Memoir of the Bemftrkablc Erents which Utsiided 

UitA&sesalDDofUisEniprnx NiFlinlu. VrBmaK M. Koirr, Secnuur 

of SUU. Sto. lOi, aJ. IffuHiMli'd if iHirtrial Oimmuml.) 
StrXTOITS (Qkorci T.) Travels in Uetiea: with AdventcTes 

■manglhe Wild Tiibaa wit Anlnuli"' U>e PnlrtMWil RDokf lloujl- 

uiu. ivmevn. . 
EU.LE'S (Ladt) Joamal of the Dluaten in Affghaniatan. Pott 


SjISDWITH'S (Hcnpniii) Si«ge of Kmi and ReaUlaneo 1^ il: 

SOOrra (O. Oiumi) 8«a1if »nil DomMlie ArchiwcluM, 7n- 

tatutiFnan. giBmillU.Um. 8to. 9: ^^ 

(Mutarof Ballol) Sertnont ProachMl More the Unlre 

SOROPE^ (WiLUiv) Diy> at Dccr-SUlliiiis; with v 
of tlw R«J fnvt. ntr4 SMItflt. WowleHU. CnvB »< 
— Daji Md Klsbta of Salmon Fishing la the 1 

Geologjr «Dd Extlocl Volcinoo* of Caatnl I 

AMWniWn, llloitmlena. MoUnn Bto. KU. 

SEU-HBLP. With« of CliiiTwtcr and I 

Br atauiii, enii.H. r\/lg-Ji/u nat^auL Foatart 

SeSIUE'S (N. W.) Sugsotioiu on I'aimlu EduoiUon. Svol 1 
SUAFTKSmiBT lUnt. Cuikoillok) ; Memoin of hi* EorijU 

SHAW'S (J. r.) Ootllne* of Bngliih Lit«niura for SCa 

SlEaHA LGOKB ; I>Mi:rlb«d In Latter* to Friends at H 

A Iitn. Psil Sia. St. M. 
SIUMOKS on Coart<-MsrtUI. GIA Bdilion. Adapted U 
MBUor Act .na Art<cl« of W.r, II.* N.t»I I>1«- " ' 

CMtDlniil Lvr Caniwlldiiitiia AiU. »ro. 
SUILES- ;(8AXirii} Liroi of EnKinwn ; fwni the BulWt Period 
Id Ihe D«'h of Tulftinl ; ■rlUi nu unnnl nf Ihntr V.>ih1I|WI Wub>. •»! 
II tlliinnr of iBlinl i;nipisii>ilciiI1<iB Is UiIUIb. IVruilH ud Bnasnu 
W(»dww. IVtIa. Sta. ilt. 

Gaorse mJ Hubert SlepbenMO, FormSnij tlie ' 

Vahin* of " Ui't of th« E'.elne*™." With a 
tllBulnllnix. Ui-dluiii Hto. tli. 
■■ ■- — Slorj of the Life of Oonrge Stephen 

Self-Help. With lllintmtloni of Chsracter ud C 

Ftlt^f/Ut TlBonaJ. HmI Bt". ft". 

Worktuen'* Ekrninsis, S»ving», »nd Strikes. 

•"■< F»p,8vfK u.«, 

aOMBRVlLLE'S (Uaxt) Phjuic*! Qeosnphj. .PiflA i 

FoTtnlU PMISID, Bi. 
Connexion of the Phygicil SoienEe* 

SiUUat, Wonlcnta. P»t8n>. Oi. 
SOOTH'S (JomrF.)Hon»ohold8urjreryi or.Hinln 

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WBOTTESLKT'S (Lom.) Tbonght* on CoTeromenland 


- I