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Title: Anecdotes of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors and Architects and Curiosities of Art (Vol. 3 of 3)
Author: Spooner, Shearjashub, 1809-1859
Language: English
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 Sculptors and Architects,










 Reëntered, G. B., 1880.


  Egyptian Art,                                                        1
  Ancient Thebes,                                                      2
  The Temple of Carnac,                                                5
  Temple of Luxor,                                                     5
  The Statues of Memnon,                                               6
  Heliopolis,                                                          7
  Memphis,                                                             8
  Lake Moeris,                                                         9
  The Colossal Sphinx,                                                10
  The Labyrinth of Egypt,                                             11
  The Catacombs of Egypt,                                             12
  The Pyramids of Egypt,                                              19
  Perilous Ascent of the Pyramid of Cephren,                          27
  Egyptian Obelisks,                                                  30
  Removal of an Obelisk by Fontana,                                   33
  Removal of an Obelisk from Thebes to Paris,                         40
  Carburi's Base for the Equestrian Statue of Peter the Great,        42
  Comparative Skill of the Ancients and Moderns in Mechanics,         45
  The Britannia Tubular Railway Bridge,                               46
  The Tubes,                                                          47
  Construction of the Tubes,                                          49
  Floating the Tubes,                                                 50
  Raising the Tubes,                                                  52
  Glory of Ancient Rome,                                              57
  The Capitol,                                                        59
  Modern Rome,                                                        60
  The Foundation of Venice,                                           72
  Theodoric the Great, and his Love of the Fine Arts,                 73
  Archimedes,                                                         77
  The Trials of Genius--Filippo Brunelleschi,                         80
  Brunelleschi's Enthusiasm,                                         122
  Brunelleschi and Donatello,                                        123
  Donatello,                                                         125
  Donatello and the Merchant,                                        126
  Donatello and his Kinsmen,                                         127
  Death of Donatello,                                                128
  Donatello and Michael Angelo Compared,                             128
  Sofonisba Anguisciola's Early Distinction,                         129
  Sofonisba's Visit to Rome,                                         130
  Sofonisba's Marriages,                                             131
  Sofonisba's Residence at Genoa, and her Intercourse with Vandyck,  132
  Carriera Rosalba,                                                  133
  Rosalba's Modesty,                                                 133
  Rosalba's Knowledge of Tempers,                                    133
  Elizabeth Sirani,                                                  134
  Death of Elizabeth Sirani,                                         135
  Rachel Ruysch,                                                     135
  Sir Anthony Vandyck,                                               136
  Vandyck's Visit to Italy,                                          138
  Vandyck's Return to Antwerp,                                       139
  Vandyck's Visit to England,                                        141
  William van de Velde the Elder,                                    143
  Van de Velde and Charles II.,                                      144
  William van de Velde the Younger,                                  145
  The Younger van de Velde's Works,                                  146
  Nicholas Poussin,                                                  148
  Poussin's first Celebrity,                                         149
  Poussin's first Visit to Rome,                                     150
  Poussin's Distress at Rome,                                        151
  Poussin's Success at Rome,                                         152
  Poussin's Invitation to Paris,                                     153
  Poussin's Return to Rome,                                          154
  Sir Joshua Reynolds' Critique on Poussin,                          156
  Poussin's Views of his Art,                                        157
  Poussin's Works,                                                   158
  Marino and Poussin,                                                159
  Poussin Romanized,                                                 160
  Poussin's Habits of Study,                                         161
  Poussin's Old Age,                                                 162
  Poussin's Last Work and Death,                                     163
  Poussin's Ideas of Painting,                                       164
  Poussin and the Nobleman,                                          165
  Poussin and Mengs,                                                 165
  Poussin and Domenichino,                                           166
  Poussin and Salvator Rosa,                                         166
  Poussin, Angelo, and Raffaelle Compared,                           168
  Rembrandt,                                                         170
  Rembrandt's Works,                                                 173
  Rembrandt as an Engraver,                                          174
  Anecdote of Schwarts,                                              175
  Jacques Callot,                                                    176
  Callot's Patriotism,                                               177
  Ingenuity of Artists,                                              178
  A Hint to Jewelers,                                                179
  Curious Paintings,                                                 180
  The Oldest Oil Painting Extant,                                    181
  Curious Representations of the Harpies,                            181
  Adrian Brower,                                                     182
  Brower, the Duke d'Aremberg, and Rubens,                           183
  Death of Brower,                                                   184
  Brower's Works,                                                    185
  Rosa da Tivoli,                                                    185
  Rosa da Tivoli's Works,                                            186
  Rosa da Tivoli's Facility of Execution,                            186
  Rosa da Tivoli's Habits,                                           187
  Luca Cambiaso's Facility in Painting,                              187
  Cambiaso's Works in Spain,                                         188
  Cambiaso's Artistic Merits,                                        190
  Rarity of Female Portraits in Spain,                               191
  Murillo's Pictures in Spanish America,                             192
  Murillo's "Virgin of the Napkin,"                                  193
  Anecdote of an Altar-Piece by Murillo,                             194
  Murillo and his slave Gomez,                                       195
  An Artist's Love of Romance,                                       195
  Estéban March's Strange Method of Study,                           198
  March's Adventure of the Fish, fried in Linseed Oil,               199
  A Painter's Rebuke,                                                200
  A Painter's Retort Courteous,                                      201
  Ardemans and Bocanegra--A Trial of Skill,                          201
  A Painter's Artifice to "Keep up Appearances,"                     202
  A Good Natured Criticism,                                          203
  Alonso Cano and the Intendant of the Bishop of Malaga,             203
  Cano's Love of Sculpture,                                          204
  Castillo's Sarcasm on Alfaro,                                      204
  Torres' Imitations of Caravaggio,                                  205
  Pantoja and the Eagle,                                             205
  The Painter Methodius and the King of Bulgaria,                    206
  John C. Vermeyen and Charles V.,                                   206
  Blas de Prado and the Emperor of Morocco,                          207
  Don Juan Carreño,                                                  208
  Carreño's Copy of Titian's St. Margaret,                           208
  Carreño's Abstraction of Mind,                                     209
  Anecdote of Cespedes' Last Supper,                                 209
  Zuccaro's Compliment to Cespedes,                                  210
  Dona Barbara Maria de Hueva,                                       210
  The Miraculous Picture of the Virgin,                              211
  The Chair of St. Peter,                                            213
  The Sagro Catino, or Emerald Dish,                                 215
  The "Painter of Florence,"                                         217
  Legend of the Painter-Friar, the Devil, and the Virgin,            220
  Gerard Douw,                                                       222
  Douw's Style,                                                      224
  Douw's Method of Painting,                                         225
  Douw's Works,                                                      226
  Albert Durer,                                                      228
  Durer's Works as a Painter,                                        229
  Durer's Works as an Engraver,                                      231
  Durer's Fame and Death,                                            233
  Durer's Habits and Literary Works,                                 234
  Ludolph Backhuysen,                                                235
  John Baptist Weenix the Elder,                                     236
  Weenix's Facility of Hand,                                         236
  John Baptist Weenix the Younger,                                   237
  Jan Steen,                                                         238
  Jan Steen's Works,                                                 238
  Kugler's Critique on the Works of Jan Steen,                       240
  Frolics of Mieris and Jan Steen,                                   241
  Sir Anthony More,                                                  242
  Sir Anthony More and Philip II.,                                   243
  More's Success and Works,                                          243
  Perilous Adventure of a Painter,                                   245
  Anecdote of John de Mabuse,                                        246
  Capugnano and Lionello Spada,                                      247
  Michael Angelo Caravaggio--His Quarrelsome Disposition,            248
  Jacopo Amiconi,                                                    249
  Painting the Dead,                                                 250
  Taddeo Zuccaro,                                                    250
  Zuccaro's Resentment,                                              251
  Royal Criticism,                                                   252
  Pietro da Cortona,                                                 253
  "Know Thyself,"                                                    254
  Benvenuto Cellini,                                                 255
  Fracanzani and Salvator Rosa,                                      256
  Pope Urban VIII. and Bernini,                                      256
  Emulation and Rivalry in the Fine Arts,                            257
  The Nótte of Correggio,                                            259
  The Dresden Gallery,                                               262
  Painting among the Egyptians,                                      263
  Painting among the Greeks,                                         265
  Numismatics,                                                       269
  Restoring Ancient Edifices,                                        274
  Napoleon's Love of Art,                                            274
  Napoleon's Works at Paris,                                         276
  The Napoleon Medals,                                               281
  The Elephant Fountain,                                             286
  Interesting Drawing,                                               287
  Sévre China,                                                       288
  Dismantling of the Louvre,                                         289
  Removal of the Venetian Horses from Paris,                         296
  Removal of the Statue of Napoleon from the Place Vendôme,          301
  The Musée Français and the Musée Royal,                            302
  Boydell's Shakspeare Gallery,                                      305
  Brief Sketch of a Plan for an American National Gallery of Art,    307





Champollion, the famous explorer of Egyptian antiquities, holds the
following language at the end of his fifteenth letter, dated at Thebes.
"It is evident to me, as it must be to all who have thoroughly examined
Egypt or have an accurate knowledge of the Egyptian monuments existing
in Europe, that the arts commenced in Greece by a servile imitation of
the arts in Egypt, much more advanced than is vulgarly believed, at the
period when the Egyptian colonies came in contact with the savage
inhabitants of Attica or the Peloponnesus. Without Egypt, Greece would
probably never have become the classical land of the fine arts. Such is
my entire belief on this great problem. I write these lines almost in
the presence of bas-reliefs which the Egyptians executed, with the most
elegant delicacy of workmanship, seventeen hundred years before the
Christian era. What were the Greeks then doing?"

The sculptures of the monument of El Asaffif are ascertained to be more
than three thousand five hundred years old.


Thebes, an ancient city and capital of Egypt, and the oldest city in the
world, was situated in Upper Egypt, on both sides of the Nile, about two
hundred and sixty miles south of Cairo. Thebes is "the city of a hundred
gates," the theme and admiration of ancient poets and historians, and
the wonder of travelers--"that venerable city," in the language of Dr.
Pocoke, "the date of whose destruction is older than the foundation of
other cities, and the extent of whose ruins, and the immensity of whose
colossal fragments still offer so many astonishing objects, that one is
riveted to the spot, unable to decide whither to direct the step, or fix
the attention." These ruins extend about eight miles along the Nile,
from each bank to the sides of the enclosing mountains, and describe a
circuit of twenty-seven miles. The most remarkable objects on the
eastern side are the temples of Carnac and Luxor; and on the western
side are the Memnonium or palace of Memnon, two colossal statues, the
sepulchres of the kings, and the temple of Medinet Abu. The glory of
Thebes belongs to a period prior to the commencement of authentic
history. It is recorded only in the dim lights of poetry and tradition,
which might be suspected of fable, did not such mighty witnesses remain
to attest their truth. Strabo and Diodorus Siculus described Thebes
under the name of _Diospolis_ (the city of God), and gave such
magnificent descriptions of its monuments as caused the fidelity of
those writers to be called in question, till the observations of modern
travelers proved their accounts to have fallen short of the reality. At
the time of the Persian invasion under Cambyses, Memphis had supplanted
Thebes; and the Ptolemys afterwards removed the seat of empire to
Alexandria. At present, its site presents only a few scattered villages,
consisting of miserable cottages built in the courts of the temples. The
ancient structures, however, remain in a state of wonderful
preservation. Almost the whole extent of eight miles along the river is
covered with magnificent portals, obelisks decorated with most beautiful
sculptures, forests of columns, and long avenues of sphynxes and
colossal statues. The most remarkable monuments, the ruins of which
remain, are the temples of Carnac, Luxor, the Memnonium or temple of
Memnon, and the temple of Medinet Abu. The tomb of Osymandyas, the
temple of Iris, the Labyrinth, and the Catacombs lie on the western
side of the Nile. In the interior of the mountains which rise behind
these monuments, are found objects less imposing and magnificent indeed,
but not less interesting--the tombs of the kings of Thebes. Several of
these were opened by Belzoni, and were found in great preservation, with
mummies in the sarcophagi, as well as dispersed through the chambers.

Such was ancient Thebes--a city so populous that, according to ancient
writers, in times of war 10,000 soldiers issued from each of her hundred
gates, forming an army of 1,000,000 men. That these magnificent ruins
are the remains of "the city of an hundred gates,"--"the earliest
capital in the world," cannot be doubted. According to the measurements
made by the French, their distance from the sea on the north, is 680,000
metres (850 miles), and from Elephantine on the south, 180,000 metres
(225 miles)--corresponding exactly with the 6,800 and 1,800 stadia of
Herodotus. The circumference of the ruins is about 15,000 metres (17½
miles), agreeing with the 140 stadia given by Diodorus as the
circumference of Thebes. The origin of the name of this celebrated city,
as well as the date of its foundation, is unknown. According to
Champollion, who deciphered many of the inscriptions on these ruins, the
Egyptian name was _Thbaki-antepi-Amoun_ (City of the Most High), of
which the _No-Ammon_ of the Hebrews and _Diospolis_ of the Greeks are
mere translations; _Thebæ_, of the Greeks is also perhaps derived from
the Egyptian _Thbaki_ (the city).


The largest of the temples of Thebes, and of any in Egypt, is that of
Carnac, on the site of the ancient Diospolis. Diodorus describes it as
thirteen stadia, or about a mile and a half in circumference, which
nearly agrees with the admeasurements of Denon. It has twelve principal
entrances; and the body of the temple, which is preceded by a large
court, consists of a prodigious hall or portico, the roof of which is
supported by one hundred and thirty-four columns, some twenty-six, and
others thirty feet in circumference; four beautiful obelisks then mark
the entrance to the shrine, which consists of three apartments, built
entirely of granite.


The temple of Luxor is about one and a fourth mile above that of Carnac,
and though it is of smaller dimensions it is in a superior style of
architecture, and in more complete preservation. The entrance is thought
to surpass everything else that Egypt presents. In front are the two
finest obelisks in the world, formed of rose-colored granite, and
rising, as Denon supposes, after allowing for the portion buried in the
ground, to the height of one hundred feet. But the objects which most
attract attention, are the sculptures which cover the east wing of the
northern front. They represent on a grand scale, a victory gained by one
of the ancient kings of Egypt over their Asiatic enemies, consisting of
multitudes of figures, horses, and chariots, executed in the best style
of Egyptian art; the number of human figures introduced exceeds fifteen
hundred, five hundred of which are on foot, and the rest in chariots.


There were many colossal statues of Memnon in Egypt, but the most
remarkable were the two in the Memnonium or palace of Memnon, at Thebes.
The largest is of rose-colored granite, and stood in the centre of the
principal court; its height was sixty-four feet, and its remains are
scattered forty feet around it. Rigaud, one of the French savans, says,
"the excavations are still visible where the wedges were placed which
divided the monument when it was thrown down by Cambyses." The trunk is
broke off at the waist, and the upper part lies prostrate on the back;
it measures six feet ten inches over the front of the head, and
sixty-two feet round the shoulders. At the entrance of the gate which
leads from the second court to the palace, is the famous colossal
sounding statue, which, according to Herodotus, Strabo, and Pausanias,
uttered a joyful sound when the sun rose, and a mournful one when it
set. It is also related that it shed tears, and gave out oracular
responses in seven verses, and that these sounds were heard till the
fourth century after Christ. These phenomena, attested by many ancient
and modern writers, are variously accounted for by the learned, as
priestcraft, peculiar construction, escape of rarified air, &c. This
statue is in excellent preservation. The head is of rose-colored
granite, and the rest of a kind of black stone. Two other colossal
statues, about fifty feet high, are seated on the plain.


The name of Heliopolis, or City of the Sun, was given by the Greeks to
the Egyptian _City of On_. It was situated a little to the north of
Memphis, was one of the largest cities of Egypt during the reign of the
Pharaohs, and so adorned with statues as to be esteemed one of the first
sacred cities in the kingdom. The temple dedicated to Re, was a
magnificent building, having in front an avenue of sphynxes, celebrated
in history, and adorned with several obelisks, raised by Sethosis
Rameses, B.C. 1900. By means of lakes and canals, the town, though built
on an artificial eminence, communicated with the Nile, and during the
flourishing ages of the Egyptian monarchy, the priests and scholars
acquired and taught the elements of learning within the precincts of its
temples. At the time of Strabo who visited this town about A. D. 45,
the apartments were still shown in which, four centuries before, Eudoxus
and Plato had labored to learn the philosophy of Egypt. Here Joseph and
Mary are said to have rested with our Saviour. A miserable village,
called _Metarea_, now stands on the site of this once magnificent city.
Near the village is the _Pillar of On_, a famous obelisk, supposed to be
the oldest monument of the kind existing. Its height is 67½ feet, and
its breadth at the base 6 feet. It is one single shaft of reddish
granite (Sienite), and hieroglyphical characters are rudely sculptured
upon it.


The very situation of this famous ancient city of Egypt had long been a
subject of learned dispute, till it was accurately ascertained by the
French expedition to Egypt. Numerous heaps of rubbish, of blocks of
granite covered with hieroglyphics and sculptures, of colossal
fragments, scattered over a space three or four leagues in
circumference, marks its site, a few miles south of Metarea or
Heliopolis, at a village called Moniet-Rahinet. According to Herodotus,
the foundation of Memphis was ascribed to Menes, the first king of
Egypt. It was a large, rich, and splendid city, and the second capital
of Egypt. Among its buildings were several magnificent temples, as those
of Phtha, Osiris, Serapis, etc.; its palaces were also remarkable. In
Strabo's time, it was next to Alexandria in size and population.
Edrisi, who visited Memphis in the 12th century, thus describes its
remains then existing: "Notwithstanding the vast extent of this city,
the remote period at which it was built, the attempts made by various
nations to destroy it and to obliterate every trace of it, by removing
the materials of which it was constructed, combined with the decay of
4,000 years, there are yet in it works so wonderful as to confound the
reflecting, and such as the most eloquent could not adequately
describe." Among the works specified by him, are a monolithic temple of
granite, thirteen and a half feet high, twelve long, and seven broad,
entirely covered, within and without, with inscriptions; and colossal
statues of great beauty, one of which was forty-five feet high, carved
out of a single block of red granite. These ruins then extended about
nine miles in every direction.


This famous lake, according to Herodotus, with whose account Diodorus
Siculus and Mela agree, was entirely an artificial excavation, made by
king Moeris, to carry off the overflowing waters of the Nile, and
reserve them for the purposes of irrigation. It was, in the time of
Herodotus, 3,600 stadia or 450 miles in circumference, and 300 feet
deep, with innumerable canals and reservoirs. Denon, Belzoni, and other
modern travelers, describe it at the present time as a natural basin,
thirty or forty miles long, and six broad. The works, therefore, which
Herodotus attributes to King Moeris, must have been the mounds, dams,
canals, and sluices which rendered it subservient to the purposes of
irrigation. These, also, would give it the appearance of being entirely
the product of human industry.


The Egyptian Sphinx is represented by a human head on the body of a
lion; it is always in a recumbent position with the fore paws stretched
forward, and a head dress resembling an old-fashioned wig. The features
are like those of the ancient Egyptians, as represented on their
monuments. The colossal Sphinx, near the group of pyramids at Jizeh,
which lay half buried in the sand, was uncovered and measured by
Caviglia. It is about 150 feet long, and 63 feet high. The body is made
out of a single stone; but the paws, which are thrown out about fifty
feet in front, are constructed of masonry. The Sphinx of Sais, formed of
a block of red granite, twenty-two feet long, is now in the Egyptian
Museum in the Louvre. There has been much speculation among the learned,
concerning the signification of these figures. Winckelmann observes that
they have the head of a female, and the body of a male, which has led to
the conjecture that they are intended as emblems of the generative
powers of nature, which the old mythologies are accustomed to indicate
by the mystical union of the two sexes in one individual; they were
doubtless of a sacred character, as they guarded the entrance of
temples, and often formed long avenues leading up to them.


A labyrinth, with the ancients, was a building containing a great number
of chambers and galleries, running into one another in such a manner as
to make it very difficult to find the way through the edifice. The most
famous was the Egyptian labyrinth, situated in Central Egypt, above Lake
Moeris, not far from Crocodilopolis, in the country now called _Fejoom_.
Herodotus, who visited and examined this edifice with great attention,
affirms that it far surpassed everything he had conceived of it. It is
very uncertain when, by whom, and for what purpose it was built, though
in all probability it was for a royal sepulchre. The building, half
above and half below the ground, was one of the finest in the world, and
is said to have contained 3,000 apartments. The arrangements of the work
and the distribution of the parts were remarkable. It was divided into
sixteen principal regions, each containing a number of spacious
buildings, which taken together, might be defined an assemblage of
palaces. There were also as many temples as there were gods in Egypt,
the number of which was prodigious, besides various other sacred
edifices, and four lofty pyramids at the angles of the walls. The
entrance was by vast halls, followed by saloons, which conducted to
grand porticos, the ascent to which was by a flight of ninety steps. The
interior was decorated with columns of porphyry and colossal statues of
Egyptian gods. The whole was surrounded by a wall, but the passages were
so intricate that no stranger could find the way without a guide. The
substructions of this famous labyrinth still exist, and Milizia says,
"as they were not arched, it is wonderful that they should have been so
long preserved, with so many stupendous edifices above them." The Cretan
labyrinth was built by Dædalus on the model of the Egyptian, but it was
only a hundredth part the size; yet, according to Diodorus Siculus, it
was a spacious and magnificent edifice, divided into a great number of
apartments, and surrounded entirely by a wall. What would the ancients
say, could they see our modern imitations of their labyrinths?


There are numerous catacombs in Egypt, the principal of which are at
Alexandria; at Sakkara, near Cairo; at Siut, near the ancient Lycopolis
or City of the Wolf; at Gebel Silsilis, on the banks of the Nile between
Etfu and Ombos, the site of one of the principal quarries of ancient
Egypt; and at Thebes. Many of these are of vast extent, and were
doubtless formed by quarrying the rocks and mountains for building
materials. They consist of grottos, galleries, and chambers, penetrating
often to a considerable distance, the superincumbent mass being
supported by huge pillars of rock; or the galleries running parallel,
with masses of solid rock intervening for supports. Many of these
chambers and grottos contained multitudes of mummies, probably the
bodies of the less wealthy; many were evidently private family tombs of
wealthy individuals, some of which are of great magnificence, adorned
with sculptures, paintings, and hieroglyphics. The Arabs for centuries
have been plundering these abodes of the dead, and great numbers of the
mummies have been destroyed for fuel, and for the linen, rosin, and
asphaltum they contain, which is sold to advantage at Cairo. An immense
number of them have been found in the plain of Sakkara, near Memphis,
consisting not only of human bodies, but of various sacred animals, as
bulls, crocodiles, apes, ibises, fish, &c.; hence it is called _The
Plain of the Mummies_. Numerous caves or grottos, with contents of the
same kind, are found in the two mountainous ridges which run nearly
parallel with the Nile, from Cairo to Syene. Many of these tombs and
mummies are two or three thousand years old, and some of them perhaps

Among all the wonderful subterranean monuments of Egypt, the Catacombs
of Thebes are the most extraordinary and magnificent. These consist of
the Necropolis, or city of the dead, on the west bank of the Nile (which
was the common burial-place of the people), and the Tombs of the Kings.
The latter lie to the northwest of the city, at some distance in the
Desert. Having passed the Necropolis, the traveler enters a narrow and
rugged valley, flanked with perpendicular rocks, and ascending a narrow,
steep passage about ten feet high, which seems to have been broken down
through the rock, the ancient passage being from the Memnonium under the
hills, he comes to a kind of amphitheatre about 100 yards wide, which is
called Bab-il-Meluke--that is, the gate or court of the kings--being the
sepulchres of the kings of Thebes. In this court there are signs of
about eighteen excavations; but only nine can be entered. The hills on
each side are high, steep rocks, and the whole plain is covered with
rough stones that seem to have rolled down from them.

The grottos present externally no other ornaments than a door in a
simple square frame, with an oval in the centre of the upper part, on
which are inscribed the hieroglyphical figures of a beetle, a man with a
hawk's head, and beyond the circle two figures on their knees, in the
act of adoration. Having passed the first gate, long arched galleries
are discovered, about twelve feet wide and twenty feet high, cased with
stucco, sculptured and painted; the vaults, of an elegant elliptical
figure, are covered with innumerable hieroglyphics, disposed with so
much taste, that notwithstanding the singular grotesqueness of the
forms, and the total absence of demi-tint or aërial perspective, the
ceilings make an agreeable whole, a rich and harmonious association of
colors. Four of five of these galleries, one within the other, generally
lead to a spacious room, containing the sarcophagus of the king,
composed of a single block of granite, about twelve feet long by eight
in breadth, ornamented with hieroglyphics, both within and without; they
are square at one end, and rounded at the other, like the splendid
sarcophagus deposited in the British Museum, and supposed by Dr. Clarke
to have contained the body of Alexander. They are covered with a lid of
the same material, and of enormous thickness, shutting with a groove;
but neither this precaution, nor these vast blocks of stone, brought
from such a distance with immense labor, have been able to preserve the
relics of the sovereigns from the attempts of avarice; all these tombs
have been violated. The figure of the king appears to have been
sculptured and painted at full length on the lid of each sarcophagus.

The paintings found in these sepulchres are among the most curious and
interesting remains of Egyptian art; and they are in wonderful
preservation, the colors being as fresh as when first executed. Some of
these figures were copied by Bruce; and Denon, a member of the French
Commission sent by Napoleon to examine the antiquities of Egypt, has
published a most valuable collection which have all the appearance of
spirited and characteristic resemblances. "I discovered," says he, "some
little chambers, on the walls of which were represented all kinds of
arms, such as panoplies, coats of mail, tigers' skins, bows, arrows,
quivers, pikes, javelins, sabres, helmets, and whips: in another was a
collection of household utensils, such as caskets, chests of drawers,
chairs, sofas, and beds, all of exquisite forms, and such as might well
grace the apartments of modern luxury. As these were probably accurate
representations of the objects themselves, it is almost a proof that the
ancient Egyptians employed for their furniture Indian wood, carved and
gilt, which they covered with embroidery. Besides these, were
represented various smaller articles, as vases, coffee-pots, ewers with
their basins, a tea-pot and basket. Another chamber was consecrated to
agriculture, in which were represented all its various instruments--a
sledge similar to those in use at present, a man sowing grain by the
side of a canal, from the borders of which the inundation is beginning
to retire, a field of corn reaped with a sickle, and fields of rice with
men watching them. In a fourth chamber was a figure clothed in white,
playing on a richly ornamented harp, with eleven strings."

Denon observed everything with the eye of an artist. Speaking of the
Necropolis, which consists of numerous double galleries of grottos,
excavated in the solid rock for nearly a mile and a half square, he
observes, "I was convinced by the magnificence both of the paintings and
sculptures, that I was among the tombs of great men and heros. The
sculpture in all is incomparably more labored and higher finished than
any I had seen in the temples; and I stood in astonishment at the high
perfection of the art, and its singular destiny to be devoted to places
of such silence and obscurity. In working these galleries, beds of a
very fine calcareous clay have occasionally been crossed, and here the
lines of the hieroglyphics have been cut with a firmness of touch and a
precision, of which marble offers but few examples. The figures have
elegance and correctness of contour, of which I never thought Egyptian
sculpture susceptible. Here, too, I could judge of the style of this
people in subjects which had neither hieroglyphic, nor historical, nor
scientific; for there were representations of small scenes taken from
nature, in which the stiff profile outlines, so common with Egyptian
artists, were exchanged for supple and natural attitudes; groups of
persons were given in perspective, and cut in deeper relief than I
should have supposed anything but metal could have been worked."

The Sepulchres of the Kings of Thebes are mentioned by Diodorus Siculus
as wonderful works, and such as could never be exceeded by anything
afterwards executed in this kind. He says that forty-seven of them were
mentioned in their history; that only seventeen of them remained to the
time of Ptolemy Lagus; adding that most of them were destroyed in his
time. Strabo says, that above the Memnonium, the precise locality of
Denon's description, were the sepulchres of the kings of Thebes, in
grottos cut out of the rock, being about forty in number, wonderfully
executed and worthy to be seen. In these, he says, were obelisks with
inscriptions on them, setting forth the riches, power, and empire of
these kings, as far as Scythia, Bactria, India, and Ionia, their great
revenues, and their immense armies, consisting of one million of men.

In Egypt, the honors paid to the dead partook of the nature of a
religious homage. By the process of embalming, they endeavored to
preserve the body from the common laws of nature; and they provided
those magnificent and durable habitations for the dead--sublime
monuments of human folly--which have not preserved but buried the memory
of their founders. By a singular fatality, the well-adapted punishment
of pride, the extraordinary precautions by which it seemed in a manner
to triumph over death, have only led to a more humiliating
disappointment. The splendor of the tomb has but attracted the violence
of rapine; the sarcophagus has been violated; and while other bodies
have quietly returned to their native dust in the bosom of their mother
earth, the Egyptian, converted into a mummy, has been preserved only to
the insults of curiosity, or avarice, or barbarism.


The pyramids of Egypt, especially the two largest of the group of Jizeh
or Gize, are the most stupendous masses of buildings in stone that human
labor has ever been known to accomplish, and have been the wonder of
ancient and modern times.--The number of the Egyptian pyramids, large
and small, is very considerable; they are situated on the west bank of
the Nile, and extend in an irregular line, and in groups at some
distance from each other, from the neighborhood of Jizeh, in 30° N.
Latitude, as far as sixty or seventy miles south of that place. The
pyramids of Jizeh are nearly opposite Cairo. They stand on a plateau or
terrace of limestone, which is a projection of the Lybian
mountain-chain. The surface of the terrace is barren and irregular, and
is covered with sand and small fragments of rock; its height, at the
base of the great pyramid, is one hundred and sixty four feet above the
ordinary level of the Nile, from which it is distant about five miles.
There are in this group three large pyramids, and several small ones.
Herodotus, who was born B.C. 484, visited these pyramids. He was
informed by the priests of Memphis, that the great pyramid was built by
Cheops, king of Egypt, about B.C. 900, and that one hundred thousand
workmen were employed twenty years in building it, and that the body of
Cheops was placed in a room beneath the bottom, surrounded by a vault,
to which the waters of the Nile were conveyed through a subterranean
tunnel. A chamber has been discovered under the centre of the pyramid,
but it is about fifty-six feet above the low-water mark of the Nile. The
second pyramid, Herodotus says, was built by Cephren or Cephrenes, the
brother and successor of Cheops, and the third by Mycerinus, the son of
Cheops. Herodotus also says that the two largest pyramids are wholly
covered with white marble; Diodorus and Pliny, that they are built of
this costly material. The account of Herodotus is confirmed by present
appearances. Denon, who accompanied the French expedition to Egypt, was
commissioned by Buonaparte to examine the great pyramid of Jizeh; three
hundred persons were appointed to this duty. They approached the borders
of the desert in boats, to within half a league of the pyramid, by means
of the canals from the Nile. Denon says, "the first impression made on
me by the sight of the pyramids, did not equal my expectations, for I
had no object with which to compare them; but on approaching them, and
seeing men at their base, their gigantic size became evident." When
Savary first visited these pyramids, he left Jizeh at one o'clock in the
morning, and soon reached them. The full moon illuminated their summits,
and they appeared to him "like rough, craggy peaks piercing the
clouds." Herodotus gives 800 feet as the height of the great pyramid,
and says this is likewise the length of its base, on each side; Strabo
makes it 625, and Diodorus 600. Modern measurements agree most nearly
with the latter.

The pyramid of Cheops consists of a series of platforms, each of which
is smaller than the one on which it rests, and consequently presents the
appearance of steps which diminish in length from the bottom to the top.
There are 203 of these steps, and the height of them decreases, but not
regularly, the greatest height being about four feet eight inches, and
the least about one foot eight inches. The horizontal lines of the
platforms are perfectly straight, the stones are cut and fitted to each
other with the greatest accuracy, and joined with a cement of lime, with
little or no sand in it. It has been ascertained that a bed has been cut
in the solid rock, eight inches deep, to receive the lowest external
course of stones. The vertical height, measured from this base in the
rock to the top of the highest platform now remaining, is 456 feet. This
last platform is thirty two feet eight inches square, and if to this
were added what is necessary to complete the pyramid, the total height
would be 479 feet. Each side of the base, measured round the stones let
into the rock, is 763 feet 5 inches, and the perimeter of the base is
about 3,053 feet. The measurements of travelers differ somewhat, but
the above are very nearly correct. The area of the base is 64,753
square yards, or about 13-1/3 acres. The surface of each face, not
including the base, is 25,493 square yards; and that of the four faces
is consequently 101,972 square yards, or more than 21 acres. The solid
contents of the pyramid, without making deductions for the small
interior chambers, is 3,394,307 cubic yards. Reckoning the total height
at 479 feet, the pyramid would be 15 feet higher than St. Peter's at
Rome, and 119 higher than St. Paul's, London. The entrance to the great
pyramid is on the north face, 47½ feet above the base, and on the level
of the fifteenth step from the foundation. The entrance is easily
reached by the mass of rubbish which has fallen or been thrown down from
the top. The passage to which this opening leads is 3 feet 7½ inches
square, with a downward inclination of about 26°. It is lined with slabs
of limestone, accurately joined together. This passage leads to another,
which has an ascending inclination of 27°. The descending passage is 73
feet long, to the place where it meets the ascending one, which is 109
feet long; at the top of this is a platform, where is the opening of a
well or shaft, which goes down into the body of the pyramid, and the
commencement of a horizontal gallery 127 feet long which leads to the
Queen's chamber, an apartment 17 feet long, 14 wide, and 12 high.
Another gallery, 132 feet long, 26½ high, and 7 wide, commences also at
this platform, and is continued in the same line as the former
ascending passage, till it reaches a landing place, from which a short
passage leads to a small chamber or vestibule, whence another short
passage leads to the King's chamber, which as well as the vestibule and
intermediate passage, is lined with large blocks of granite, well
worked. The king's chamber is 34½ feet long, 17 wide, and 19¾ high.
The roof is formed of nine slabs of granite, reaching from side to side;
the slabs are therefore more than 17 feet long by 3 feet 9½ inches wide.
This chamber contains a sarcophagus of red granite; the cover is gone,
having probably been broken and carried away. The sarcophagus is 7 feet
6½ inches long, 3 feet 3 inches wide, 3 feet 8½ inches high on the
outside, the bottom being 7½ inches thick. There are no hieroglyphics
upon it. Several other chambers have been discovered above the king's
chamber, but as they are not more than three or four feet high, they
were probably intended to lessen and break the weight of the mass above,
which would otherwise fall on the King's chamber.

In 1816, Captain Caviglia discovered that the entrance passage did not
terminate at the bottom of the ascending passage, but was continued
downwards in the same inclined plane of 26°, 200 feet further, and by a
short horizontal passage, opened on what appeared to be the bottom of
the well. The passage, however, continued in the same direction 23 feet
farther; then became narrower, and was continued horizontally 28 feet
more, where it opened into a large chamber cut out of the rock below
and under the centre of the pyramid. This chamber is about 26 by 27
feet. Another passage leads from this chamber 55 feet, where it appears
to terminate abruptly.

The well, which appeared to Mr. Davidson and Capt. Caviglia to descend
no lower than where it was intersected by the descending passage, its
depth there being 155 feet, was afterwards cleared out by the French to
the depth of near 208 feet, of which 145 feet are in the solid rock; so
that the base of the pyramid being 164 feet above the low water level of
the Nile, the present bottom of the well is 19 feet above the Nile; but
the actual bottom does not appear to have been reached. The temperature
within the body of the pyramid was found to be 81° 5', Farenheit, and in
the well it was still higher. Herodotus was informed that the chambers
cut in the solid rock, were made before the building of the pyramid was
commenced. It is evident it was intended that the pyramid should not be
entered after the body or bodies were deposited in it, as blocks of
granite were fixed in the entrances to the principal passages, in such a
manner as not only to close them, but to conceal them.--There are
evidences, however, that this pyramid was entered both by the Roman and
Arab conquerors of Egypt.

The materials of all the pyramids are limestone, and, according to
Herodotus, were brought from the mountains near Cairo, where there are
ancient quarries of vast extent; but Belzoni is of opinion that a part
of them, for the second pyramid at least, was procured immediately on
the spot; others think that the greatest part of the materials came from
the west side of the Nile. The granite which forms the roofing of the
chambers, etc., was brought down the Nile from Syene. The stones of
which it is built, rarely exceed 9 feet in length, and 6½ in breadth;
the thickness has already been stated.

The ascent to the great pyramid, though not without difficulty and
danger, is frequently accomplished, even by females.

The pyramid of Cephren, the second in size, according to Belzoni, has
the following dimensions:

  Side of the base,                     684 feet.
  Vertical height,                      456  "
  Perpendicular, bisecting the face of
    the pyramid,                        568  "
  Coating from the top, to where it
    ends,                               140  "

Belzoni, after great exertion, succeeded in opening the second pyramid,
and after traversing passages similar to those already described in the
great pyramid, reached the main chamber, which is cut in the solid rock,
and is 46 feet 3 inches long, 16 feet 3 inches wide, and 23 feet 6
inches high. The covering is made of blocks of limestone, which meet in
an angular point, forming a roof, of the same slope as the pyramid. The
chamber contained a sarcophagus, formed of granite, 8 feet long, 3 feet
6 inches wide, and 2 feet 3 inches deep, on the inside. There were no
hieroglyphics on it. Some bones were found in it, which were sent to
London, and proved to be those of a bull or an ox. From an Arabic
inscription on the wall of the chamber, it appears that some of the Arab
rulers of Egypt had entered the pyramid, and closed it again. Belzoni
also discovered another chamber in this pyramid.

The pyramid of Mycernius, the third in size of the Jizeh group, is about
330 feet square at the base, and 174 feet high. This pyramid has never
been opened.

There are some large pyramids at Sakkârah, one of which is next in
dimensions to the pyramid of Cheops, each side of the base being 656
feet, and the height 339 feet. At Dashour there are also some large
pyramids, one of which has a base of 700 feet on each side, and a
perpendicular height of 343 feet; and it has 154 steps or platforms.
Another pyramid, almost as large at the base as the preceding, is
remarkable. It rises to the height of 184 feet at an angle of 70°, when
the plane of the side is changed, to one of less inclination, which
completes the pyramid. At Thebes, there are some small pyramids of sun
dried bricks. Herodotus says, "About the middle of Lake Moeris, there
are two pyramids, each rising about 300 feet above the water. The part
that is under the water is just the same height." It is probable that
these pyramids were built on an island in the lake, and that Herodotus
was misinformed as to the depth of the water. There are numerous
pyramids in Nubia--eighty or more--but they are generally small.

The object of the Egyptians in building these pyramids, is not known.
Some writers maintain that they were as memorials, pillars, or altars
consecrated to the sun; others, that they served as a kind of gnomon for
astronomical observations; that they were built to gratify the vanity
and tyranny of kings, or for the celebration of religious mysteries;
according to Diderot, for the transmission and preservation of
historical information; and to others, for sepulchres for the
kings,--which last was the common opinion of the ancients. Some suppose
that they were intended as places for secret meetings, magazines for
corn, or lighthouses; but their structure, and great distance from the
sea, are sufficient refutations of these absurd hypotheses.


The upper part of this pyramid is still covered with the original
polished coating of marble, to the distance of 140 feet from the top
towards the base, which makes the ascent extremely difficult and
dangerous. Mr. Wilde, in his "Narrative of a Voyage to Madeira,
Teneriffe, and along the shore of the Mediterranean," published in 1840,
made the ascent to the top, and thus describes the adventure:

"I engaged two Arabs to conduct me to the summit of the pyramid--one an
old man, and the other about forty, both of a mould, which for
combination of strength and agility, I never saw surpassed. We soon
turned to the north, and finally reached the outer casing on the west
side. All this was very laborious to be sure, though not very dangerous;
but here was an obstacle that I knew not how the Arabs themselves could
surmount, much less how I could possibly master--for above our heads
jutted out, like an eave or coping, the lower stones of the coating,
which still remain and retain a smooth, polished surface. As
considerable precaution was necessary, the men made me take off my hat,
coat, and shoes at this place; the younger then placed his raised and
extended hands against the projecting edge of the lower stone, which
reached above his chin; and the elder, taking me up in his arms as I
would a child, placed my feet on the other's shoulders, and my body flat
on the smooth surface of the stone. In this position, we formed an angle
with each other; and here I remained for upwards of two minutes, till
the older man went round, and by some other means, contrived to get over
the projection, when, creeping along the line of junction of the casing,
he took my hands, drew me up to where he was above me, and then letting
down his girdle, assisted to mount up the younger, but less daring and
less active of the two. We then proceeded much as follows. One of them
got on the shoulders of the other, and so gained the joining of the
stone above. The upper man then helped me in a similar action, while the
lower pushed me up by the feet. Having gained this row, we had after to
creep to some distance along the joining, to where another opportunity
of ascending was offered. In this way we proceeded to the summit; and
some idea may be formed of my feelings, when it is recollected that all
of these stones of such a span are highly polished, are set on an angle
of little less than 45°, and that the places we had to grip with our
hands and feet were often not more than two inches wide, and their
height above the ground more than 400 feet. A single slip of the foot,
and we all three must have been dashed to atoms long before we reached
the bottom. (This actually happened to an English traveler in 1850.) On
gaining the top, my guides gave vent to sundry demonstrations of
satisfaction, clapping me on the back, patting me on the head, and
kissing my hands. From this I began to suspect that something wonderful
had been achieved; and some idea of my perilous situation broke upon me,
when I saw some of my friends beneath, waving their handkerchiefs and
looking up with astonishment, as we sat perched upon the top, which is
not more than six feet square. The apex stone is off, and it now
consists of four outer slabs, and one in the centre, which is raised up
on the end and leans to the eastward. I do not think human hands could
have raised it from its bed, on account of its size, and the confined
space they would have to work in. I am inclined to think the top was
struck by lightning, and the position of the stone thus altered by it.
The three of us had just room to sit upon the place. The descent, as
might be expected, was much more dangerous, though not so difficult. The
guides tied a long sash under my arms, and so let me slide down from
course to course of these coverings of stones, which are of a yellowish
limestone, somewhat different from the material of which the steps are
composed, and totally distinct from the rock at the base, or the coating
of the passages."


Obelisks belong to the oldest and most simple monuments of Egyptian
architecture, and are high four-sided pillars, diminishing as they
ascend, and terminating in a small pyramid. Herodotus speaks of them,
and Pliny gives a particular account of them. The latter mentions king
Mesphres, or Mestres, of Thebes, as the first builder of obelisks, but
does not give the time; nor is this king noticed either by Herodotus or
Diodorus. It is probable that these monuments were first built before
the time of Moses, at least two centuries before the Trojan war. There
are still several obelisks in Egypt; there is one erect, and another
fallen at Alexandria, between the new city and the light-house; one at
Matarea, among the ruins of old Heliopolis; one in the territory of
Fayoum, near ancient Arsinoë; eight or ten among the ruins of Thebes;
the two finest at Luxor, at the entrance of the temple, &c. These
obelisks, exclusively of the pedestals, are mostly from 50 to 100 feet
high, and of a red polished granite (sienite); a few of the later ones
are of white marble and other kinds of stone. At their base, they
commonly occupy a space of from 4½ to 12 feet square, and often more.
Some are adorned on all sides, and some on fewer, with hieroglyphics cut
in them, sometimes to the depth of two inches, divided into little
squares and sections, and filled with paint: sometimes they are striped
with various colors. Some are entirely plain and without hieroglyphics.
The foot of the obelisk stands upon a quadrangular base, commonly two or
three feet broader than the obelisk, with a socket, in which it rests.
They were commonly hewn out of a single stone, in the quarries of Upper
Egypt, and brought on canals, fed by the Nile, to the place of their

The Romans carried many of them from Egypt to Rome, Arles, and
Constantinople, most of which were afterwards overturned, but have been
put together and replaced in modern times. Augustus, for instance, had
two large obelisks brought from Heliopolis to Rome, one of which he
placed in the Campus Martius. The other stood upon the Spina, in the
Circus Maximus, and is said to have been the same which king
Semneserteus (according to Pliny) erected. At the sack of Rome by the
barbarians, it was thrown down, and remained, broken in three pieces,
amidst the rubbish, until, in 1589, Sixtus V. had it restored by the
architect Domenico Fontana, and placed near the church Madonna del
Popolo. Under Caligula, another large obelisk was brought from
Heliopolis to Rome, and placed in the Circus Vaticanus. It has stood,
since 1586, before St. Peter's church: it is without hieroglyphics; and,
with the cross and pedestal, measures 126 feet in height. It is the only
one in Rome which has remained entire. Its weight is estimated at 10,000
cwt. Claudius had two obelisks brought from Egypt, which stood before
the entrance of the Mausoleum of Augustus, and one of which was restored
in 1567, and placed near the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. Caracalla
also procured an Egyptian obelisk for his circus, and for the Appian
Way. The largest obelisk (probably erected by Rameses) was placed by
Constantius II., in the Circus Maximus at Rome. In the fifth century, it
was thrown down by the barbarians, and lay in pieces upon the ground,
until Sixtus V., in 1588, had it raised upon the square, before St.
John's church of the Lateran, thence called the _Lateran obelisk_. It is
beautifully adorned with sculpture; its weight is 13,000 cwt.; its
height, exclusive of the pedestal, 140 feet; with the pedestal, 179
feet. Several others have been erected by succeeding popes.


The following curious account of the removal of the obelisk in the
Circus Vaticanus to the centre of St. Peter's square, by Domenico
Fontana, is extracted from Milizia's life of that famous architect. It
shows plainly that the Egyptians must have attained great skill and
perfection in mechanics and engineering, to have been able to quarry out
obelisks at least a third larger, and convey them often several hundred
miles, to the places where they erected them.

"Sixtus V. was now desirous of raising in the centre of the square of
St. Peter's the only obelisk which remained standing, but partly
interred, near the wall of the Sacristy, where was formerly the Circus
of Nero. Other pontiffs had had the same wish, but the difficulty of the
enterprise had prevented the execution.

"This obelisk, or pyramid, is of red granite, called by the ancient
Romans, Marmor Thebanum (Theban marble), on account of having been
worked near Thebes, in Egypt, whence it was transported to Rome in the
time of Cæsar. Of the immense number in Rome, this is the only one
remaining entire; it is without hieroglyphics, 84 feet high, 8 feet 6
inches wide at the base, and 5 feet 6 inches at the top. One cubic foot
of this granite weighs about 160 pounds; so that the whole weight of the
obelisk must be somewhat less than 759,000 lbs. Of the manner in which
the Egyptians and Romans moved these enormous masses we have no idea,
and so many centuries having elapsed since such a thing had been done,
this proposition of Sixtus V. was considered so novel, that a general
assembly was called of all the mathematicians, engineers, and learned
men from various parts of Europe; and, in a congress held by the pope,
more than 500 persons presented themselves, bringing with them their
inventions; some with drawings, some with models, others with writings
or arguments.

"The greater number were for removing it by means of an iron carriage
and thirty-two levers. Others invented a half wheel, on which the
obelisk was to be raised by degrees. Some proposed screws, and others
thought of carrying it upon slings.

"Bartolomeo Ammanati, a Florentine architect and sculptor, sent
expressly by the grand duke, presented himself before the pope, without
either models or designs, and requested a year to consider it; for this
he was most severely reprimanded by the pontiff. Fontana exhibited his
wooden model, with a leaden pyramid, which, by means of a windlass and
crane, was raised and lowered with the greatest facility; he explained
the nature of these machines and movements, and gave a practical proof
of their capability by raising a small pyramid in the mausoleum of
Augustus, which was in a ruinous condition. After many disputes,
Fontana's invention was approved; but, as he had not yet acquired a name
of sufficient importance, the execution of it was committed to two
architects of renown, Giacomo della Porta and Bartolomeo
Ammanati.--These immediately commenced a scaffold in the centre of the
square where the obelisk was to stand.

"Fontana being justly displeased that his own discovery should not be
entrusted to his execution, went to the pope, and respectfully
represented to him, that no one could so properly execute a design as
the inventor. Sixtus was persuaded, and committed the entire direction
of it to him. The architect then commenced his work with the utmost
celerity. He dug a square hole of 44 feet, in the piazza, 24 feet deep,
and finding the soil watery and chalky, he made it firm by strong and
massive piles. At the same time he had ropes made, three inches in
diameter, 1500 feet long, an immense quantity of cords, large iron rods
to strengthen the obelisk, and other pieces of iron for the cases of the
cranes, pins, circles, pivots, and instruments of every kind. The iron
to secure the obelisk alone amounted to 40,000 lbs., and was made in the
manufactories of Rome, Ronciglione, and Subbiaco. The beams, taken from
the woods of Nettuno, were of such a prodigious size, that each was
drawn by seven pair of buffalos. From Terracina, elm was brought, for
the caseing, and Holm oak for the shafts of windlass; and to prevent the
ground from giving way, it being soft and marshy, in consequence of the
great weight, he made a bed with two layers of timber, crossing each
other in a contrary direction. On this foundation he placed the castle
or carriage, which had eight columns: each of these columns was composed
of so many thick planks, that they measured 13 feet in circumference.
These were united together by thick cords, without screws, in order to
be done and undone with greater quickness. The height of the beams was
required to be 90 feet; and not any being of that length, they were
placed one on the other, and united by iron bands. These columns were
strengthened by forty-eight braces, and tied together on all sides. The
obelisk was entirely covered with double mats, to prevent its being
injured; it was then surrounded by planks, over which were placed large
rods of iron, and these embracing the thick part underneath, came
directly over the four faces of the mass, which thus became totally
encircled with these coverings. The whole pyramid thus weighed one
million and a half pounds. Fontana calculated that every windlass, with
good ropes and cranes, would be able to move 20,000 lbs. weight; and
consequently forty would move 800,000, and he gained the rest by five
levers of thick beams 52 feet long.

"So novel an apparatus excited the curiosity of all Rome, and of
foreigners also, who came from distant countries to see what effect
would be produced by this mass of beams, mingled with ropes, windlasses,
levers, and pulleys. In order to prevent confusion, Sixtus V. issued one
of his mandates, that on the day of its being worked, no one, except the
workmen, should enter the enclosure, on pain of death, and that no one
should make the least noise, nor even speak loud. Accordingly, on the
30th of April, 1586, the first to enter the barrier was the chief
justice and his officers, and the executioner to plant the gibbet, not
merely as a matter of ceremony. Fontana went to receive the benediction
of the pope, who, after having bestowed it, told him to be cautious of
what he did, for a failure would certainly cost him his head. On this
occasion, Sixtus felt the difference between his regard for his own
glory, and his affection for the architect. Fontana, in terror, secretly
placed horses at every gate, ready to convey him from the papal anger,
in case of an accident. At the dawn of day, two masses of the Holy Ghost
were celebrated; all the artificers made their communion, and received
the papal benediction, and before the rising of the sun all entered the
barrier. The concourse of spectators was such, that the tops of the
houses were covered, and the streets crowded. The nobility and prelates
were at the barriers, between the Swiss guards and the cavalry: all were
fixed and attentive to the proceedings; and, terrified at the sight of
the inexorable gibbet, every one was silent.

"The architect gave an order that, at the sound of the trumpet, each
should begin working, and at that of the bell, placed in the castle of
wood, each should desist; there were more than 900 workmen, and 75
horses. The trumpet sounded, and in an instant, men, horses, windlasses,
cranes, and levers were all in motion. The ground trembled, the castle
cracked, all the planks bent from the enormous weight, and the pyramid,
which inclined a foot towards the choir of St. Peter, was raised
perpendicularly. The commencement having prospered so well, the bell
sounded a rest. In twelve more movements the pyramid was raised almost
two feet from the ground, in such a situation that it could be placed on
the rollers, and it remained firmly fixed by means of wedges of iron and
wood. At this happy event the castle of St. Angelo discharged all its
artillery, and a universal joy pervaded the whole city.

"Fontana was now convinced that the ropes were better than iron bands,
these being most broken or distorted, or expanded by the weight. On the
7th of May the pyramid was placed on the sledge--a more difficult and
tedious operation than that of raising it, it being necessary to convey
it over the piazza to the situation intended for it, which was 115 rods
from where it then stood. The level of the piazza being about 30 feet
lower, it was necessary to throw up an earthen embankment from one place
to the other, well secured by piles, &c. This being done, on the 13th
of June, by means of four windlasses, the pyramid was removed with the
greatest facility on the rollers, to the place of its destination. The
pope deferred its erection to the next autumn, lest the summer heats
should injure the workmen and spectators.

"In the meantime the pedestal, which was interred 30 feet, was removed:
it was composed of two parts, the ogee and basement being of the same
mass, and the plinth of white marble. All the preparations were made for
this last operation on the 10th of September, with the same solemnities;
140 horses and 800 men were employed. The pope selected this day for the
solemn entrance of the duke of Luxembourg, ambassador of ceremony from
Henry III. of France, and caused the procession to enter by the Porta
Angelica, instead of the Porta del Popolo. When this nobleman crossed
the Piazza of St. Peter's, he stopped to observe the concourse of
workmen in the midst of a forest of machines, and saw, admiring, Rome
rising again by the hand of Sixtus V. In fifty-two movements the pyramid
was raised, and at the setting of the sun it was placed firm upon its
pedestal. The castle disappeared, and the artificers, intoxicated with
joy, carried Fontana on their shoulders in triumph to his own house,
amidst the sound of drums and trumpets, and the plaudits of an immense

"In placing it upright on the pedestal, Fontana considered the method
adopted by the ancients as the least difficult; which was to rest one
end on two globes, then draw the point round, raising it at the same
time, afterwards letting it fall perpendicularly on the pedestal. It is
conjectured that this was the practice adopted by the ancients, because
two dies alone were always covered with lead for a foot or more, and
were moreover crushed at the extremities. Sixtus V. placed a cross 7
feet high at the top of the obelisk, which was carried in procession,
and which made the whole height 132 feet.

"For this undertaking, Fontana was created a knight of the Golden Spur,
and a Roman nobleman; he had a pension of 2000 crowns, transferable to
his heirs, ten knighthoods, 5000 crowns of gold in ready money, and
every description of material used in the work, which was valued at more
than 20,000 crowns. Two bronze medals of him were struck; and the
following inscription was placed on the base of the pyramid by order of
the pope:--"

                 Dominicvs Fontana,
             Ex. Pago. Agri. Novocomensis.
                Transtvlit. Et. Erexit.


In 1833, the French removed the smallest of the two obelisks which stood
before the propylon of the temple of Luxor to Paris, and elevated it in
the Place de la Concorde. The shaft is 76 feet high, and eight feet
wide on the broadest side of the base; the pedestal is 10 feet square by
16 feet high. Permission for the removal of both the obelisks having
been granted to the French government by the Viceroy of Egypt, a vessel
constructed for the purpose was sent out in March, 1831, under M. Lebas,
an eminent engineer, to whom the undertaking was confided, it being
previously determined to bring away only one, and M. Lebas found it
sufficiently difficult to bring away the smallest of the two. After
three months' labor with 800 men, the obelisk was removed on an inclined
plane into the vessel, through a hole made in the end for the purpose.
It arrived safely up the Seine to Paris, Dec. 23d, 1833. An inclined
plane of solid masonry was then constructed, leading from the river up
to a platform, also of rough masonry, level with the top of the
pedestal. The obelisk, having been placed on a kind of timber car or
sledge, was drawn up by means of ropes and capstans. One edge of the
base having been brought to its place on the pedestal, it was raised to
a perpendicular position by ropes and pulleys attached to the heads of
ten masts, five on each side. When all was ready, the obelisk was
elevated to its place under the direction of M. Lebas, in three hours,
without the least accident, Oct. 25th, 1836. It is said that Lebas had
provided himself with loaded pistols, in the firm determination to blow
out his brains in case of an accident!

In 1820, the Viceroy of Egypt presented to the English government the
monolith lying on the ground at Alexandria, one of the two obelisks
called Cleopatra's Needles; the other is still standing. The project of
removing it to London and erecting it in Waterloo Square, was
entertained for some time by the English government, but seems to have
been long abandoned; recently, however, an expedition is being fitted
out for the purpose.


Milizia gives the following interesting account of the removal of the
immense mass of granite, which forms the pedestal or base of the
equestrian statue of Peter the Great, from the bogs of the Neva to St.
Petersburg, a distance of about fourteen miles. He also cites it as an
instance of extraordinary ingenuity and skill in mechanics. It is,
however, a much easier task to move a ponderous mass of rough, unhewn
rock, than a brittle obelisk, an hundred feet or so in length, requiring
the greatest care to preserve it from injury. It is also worthy of
mention, that in widening streets in New York, it is no uncommon thing
to see a three-story brick house set back ten or fifteen feet, and even
moved across the street, and raised an extra story into the bargain--the
story being added to the _bottom_ instead of the _top_ of the building.
Thus the large free stone and brick school-house in the First Ward, an
edifice of four lofty stories, 50 by 70 feet, and basement walls 2½ feet
thick, has been raised six feet, to make it correspond with the new
grade in the lower part of Greenwich-street. It is also no uncommon
thing to see a ship of a thousand tons, with her cargo on board, raised
out of the water at the Hydraulic Dock, to stop a leak, or make some
unexpected but necessary repairs.

"In 1769, the Count Marino Carburi, of Cephalonia, moved a mass of
granite, weighing three million pounds, to St. Petersburg, to serve as a
base for the equestrian statue of Peter the Great, to be erected in the
square of that city, after the design of M. Falconet, who discarded the
common mode of placing an equestrian statue on a pedestal, where,
properly speaking, it never could be; and suggested a rock, on which the
hero was to have the appearance of galloping, but suddenly be arrested
at the sight of an enormous serpent, which, with other obstacles, he
overcomes for the happiness of the Muscovites. None but a Catherine II.,
who so gloriously accomplished all the great ideas of that hero, could
have brought to perfection this extraordinary one of the artist. An
immense mass was accidentally found buried 15 feet in a bog, four miles
and a half from the river Neva and fourteen from St. Petersburg. It was
also casually that Carburi was at the city to undertake the removal of
it. Nature alone sometimes forms a mechanic, as she does a sovereign, a
general, a painter, a philosopher. The expense of this removal was only
70,000 rubles and the materials left after the operation were worth
two-thirds of that sum. The obstacles surmounted do honor to the human
understanding. The rock was 37 feet long, 22 high, and 21 broad, in the
form of a parallelopipedon. It was cleft by a blast, the middle part
taken away, and in the cavity was constructed a forge for the wants of
the journey. Carburi did not use cylindrical rollers for his
undertaking, these causing an attrition sufficient to break the
strongest cables. Instead of rollers he used balls composed of brass,
tin, and calamina, which rolled with their burden under a species of
boat 180 feet long, and 66 wide. This extraordinary spectacle was
witnessed by the whole court, and by Prince Henry of Prussia, a branch
from the great Frederick. Two drums at the top sounded the march; forty
stone-cutters were continually at work on the mass during the journey,
to give it the proposed form--a singularly ingenious idea. The forge was
always at work: a number of other men were also in attendance to keep
the balls at proper distances, of which there were thirty, of the
diameter of five inches. The mountain was moved by four windlasses, and
sometimes by two; each required thirty-two men: it was raised and
lowered by screws, to remove the balls and put them on the other side.
When the road was even, the machine moved 60 feet in the hour. The
mechanic, although continually ill from the dampness of the air, was
still indefatigable in regulating the arrangements; and in six weeks the
whole arrived at the river. It was embarked, and safely landed. Carburi
then placed the mass in the square of St. Peter's, to the honor of
Peter, Falconet, Carburi, and of Catherine, who may always, from her
actions, be classed among illustrious men. It is to be observed, that in
this operation the moss and straw that was placed underneath the rock,
became by compression so compact, that it almost equalled in hardness
the ball of a musket. Similar mechanical operations of the ancients have
been wonderfully exaggerated by their poets."


Many persons suppose, and maintain, that the grandeur of the monuments
of the ancients, and the great size of the stones they employed for
building purposes, prove that they understood mechanics better than the
moderns. The least knowledge in mechanics, however, will show this
opinion to be erroneous. The moderns possess powers which were unknown
to the ancients, as the screw, and the hydraulic press, the power of
which last is only limited by the strength of the machinery. The works
of the ancients show that they expended a vast deal of power and labor
to gratify the pride and ambition of kings; but the moderns can do all
these things much easier, and in far less time, whenever they deem it
proper. There was nothing in ancient times to be compared with that
daring, ingenious, and stupendous monument of engineering skill--the
Britannia Tubular Bridge, across the Menai straits--projected, designed,
and built by Robert Stephenson, the famous English engineer. He had
previously built a similar but smaller structure--the Conway Tubular


Had this stupendous fabric existed in ancient times, it would have been
regarded as the _first_ of the seven wonders of the world. Greater and
more expensive structures have been raised, but none displaying more
science, skill, and ingenuity, and none requiring such tremendous
mechanical power to execute.

The Britannia Tubular Bridge was built to conduct the Chester and
Holyhead Railway across the Menai Straits, to the island of Anglesea, in
the Irish Sea.

The difficulties which the engineer had to overcome, were greatly
augmented by the peculiar form and situation of the straits. Sir Francis
Head says, "The point of the straits which it was desired to cross,
although broader than that about a mile distant; preoccupied by Mr.
Telford's suspension bridge--was of course one of the narrowest that
could be selected, in consequence of which the ebbing and flowing
torrent rushes through it with such violence, that, except where there
is back water, it is often impossible for a small boat to pull against
it; besides which, the gusts of wind which come over the tops, down the
ravines, and round the sides of the neighboring mountains, are so
sudden, and occasionally so violent, that it is as dangerous to sail as
it is difficult to row; in short, the wind and the water, sometimes
playfully and sometimes angrily, seem to vie with each other--like some
of Shakspeare's fairies--in exhibiting before the stranger the utmost
variety of fantastic changes which it is in the power of each to
assume." The Menai Straits are about twelve miles long, through which,
imprisoned between the precipitous shores, the waters of the Irish Sea
and St. George's Channel are not only everlastingly vibrating, backwards
and forwards, but at the same time and from the same causes, are
progressively rising and falling 20 to 25 feet, with each successive
tide, which, varying its period of high water, every day forms
altogether an endless succession of aqueous changes.


The tubes forming the viaducts, rest upon two abutments and three piers,
called respectively the Anglesea abutment and pier, the Carnarvon
abutment and pier, and the Britannia or central pier, built upon the
Britannia rock in the middle of the straits, which gives name to the
bridge. The Anglesea abutment is 143 feet 6 inches high, 55 feet wide,
and 175 feet long to the end of the wings, which terminate in pedestals,
supporting colossal lions on either side, 25 feet 6 inches in length, 12
feet 6 inches high, and 8 feet broad, carved out of a single block of
Anglesea marble. The space between the Anglesea abutment and pier is 230
feet. This pier is 196 feet high, 55 feet wide, and 32 feet long. The
Carnarvon abutment and pier are of the same dimensions as those above
described, on the opposite shore. The Britannia pier is 240 feet high,
55 feet wide, and 45 feet long. This pier is 460 feet clear of each of
the two side piers. The bottom of the tubes are 124 feet above low water
mark, so that large ships can pass under them, under full sail.

There are two tubes, to accommodate a double track (one would have done
in this country, but in England they do nothing by halves), and each is
1513 feet long. The total length of the bridge is 1841 feet. These tubes
are not round or oval, but nearly square at the termini; the bridge
being constructed on the principle of the arch. A section of one of the
tubes at the Britannia pier is in the form of a parallelogram, where it
is 30 feet high, gradually diminishing towards each end to 20 feet. The
tubes are riveted together into continuous hollow beams; they are of
the uniform width of 14 feet 8 inches throughout; they are constructed
entirely of iron, and weigh about 12,000 tons, each tube containing 5000
tons of wrought iron, and about 1000 tons of cast iron. The tubes were
constructed each in four sections; the sections extending from the
abutments to their corresponding piers, each 250 feet long, were built
_in situ_, on immense scaffolding, made of heavy timbers for the
purpose, even with the railway; but the middle sections, each 470 feet
long, were built on piers on the Carnarvonshire shore, then floated into
the stream, and elevated to their position; each of these sections
weighed 1800 tons.


The sides, bottom, and top of these gigantic tubes are formed of oblong
wrought iron plates, varying in length, width, and thickness, according
to circumstances, but of amazing size and weight. They are so arranged
as to obtain the greatest possible strength, the whole being riveted
together in the strongest manner. In addition to the 1600 tons of
wrought iron in each of the four large pieces, an additional 200 tons
was used to form lifting frames, and cast iron beams for the purpose of
attaching the tube to those huge chains by which they were elevated. The
construction of the tubes is thus described in the London Illustrated
News, from which this account is derived:

"In order to carry out this vast work (the construction of the tubes),
eighty houses have been erected for the accommodation of the workmen,
which, being whitewashed, have a peculiarly neat and picturesque
appearance; among them are seen butcher's, grocer's, and tobacconist's
shops, supplying the wants of a numerous population. A day school,
Sunday school, and meeting-house also conspicuously figure. Workshops,
steam-engines, store-houses, offices, and other buildings meet the eye
at every turn; one is led to conclude that a considerable time has
elapsed since the works were commenced, yet it is little more than two
years ago. A stranger, on coming to the ground, is struck with wonder
when for the first time he obtains a near view of the vast piles of
masonry towering majestically above all the surrounding objects--strong
as the pillars of Hercules, and apparently as endurable--his eyes wander
instinctively to the ponderous tubes, those masterpieces of engineering
constructiveness and mathematical adjustment; he shrinks into himself as
he gazes, and is astonished when he thinks that the whole is the
developed idea of one man, and carried out, too, in the face of
difficulties which few would have dared to encounter."


The tubes were floated to the places whence they were elevated to their
positions on eight huge pontoons, fitted with valves and pumps to
exhaust the water from them, when all was ready to float the prodigious
iron beams. These pontoons or boxes were each 90 feet long, 25 feet
wide, and 15 feet deep. The pontoons having been placed under one of the
tubes (sections), the floating was easily effected, and the operation is
thus described by the "Assistant Engineer."

"The operation of floating the tubes (the four sections, and one only at
a time), will be commenced by closing the valves in the pontoons at low
water; as the tide rises, the pontoons will begin to float, and shortly
afterwards to bear the weight of the tube, which will at last be raised
by them entirely off its temporary supporting piers; about an hour and a
half before high water, the current running about four miles an hour, it
will be dragged out into the middle of the stream, by powerful capstans
and hawsers, reaching from the pontoons at each end, to the opposite
shore. In order to guide it into its place with the greatest possible
certainty, three large hawsers will be laid down the stream, one end of
two of them being made fast to the towers (piers) between which the tube
is intended to rest, and the other to strong fixed points on the two
shores, near to and opposite the further end of the tube platforms; in
their course, they will pass over and rest upon the pontoons, being
taken through 'cable-stoppers' which are contrivances for embracing and
gripping the hawser extended across the stream, and thereby retarding,
or if necessary entirely destroying, the speed induced by the current."


The tubes of the Britannia bridge were raised by means of three
hydraulic presses of the most prodigious size, strength, weight, and
power; two of which were placed in the Britannia pier, above the points
where the tubes rest, and the other alternately on the Anglesea and
Carnarvon piers.

In order that all who read these pages may understand this curious
operation, it is necessary to describe the principle of the hydraulic
press. If a tube be screwed into a cask or vessel filled with water, and
then water poured into the tube, the pressure on the bottom and sides of
the vessel will not be the contents of the vessel and tube, but that of
a column of water equal to the length of the tube and the depth of the
vessel. This law of pressure in fluids is rendered very striking in the
experiment of bursting a strong cask by the action of a few ounces of
water. This law, so extraordinary and startling of belief to those who
do not understand the reasoning upon which it is founded, has been
called the _Hydrostatic paradox_, though there is nothing in reality
more paradoxical in it, than that one pound at the long end of a lever,
should balance ten pounds at the short end. This principle has been
applied to the construction of the Hydrostatic or Hydraulic press,
whose power is only limited by the strength of the materials of which it
is made. Thus, with a hydraulic press no larger than a common tea-pot, a
bar of iron may be cut as easily as a slip of pasteboard. The exertion
of a single man, with a short lever, will produce a pressure of 1500
atmospheres, or 22,500 pounds on every square inch of surface inside the
cylinder. By means of hydraulic presses, ships of a thousand tons
burthen, with cargo on board, are lifted out of the water for repairs,
and the heaviest bodies raised and moved, without any other expense of
human labor beyond the management of the engine.

The tubes on the Anglesea side were raised first. The presses in the
Britannia tower were each capable of raising a weight of 1250 tons; that
in the Anglesea tower, larger than the others, 1800 tons, or the whole
weight of the tube. These presses were worked by two steam engines of 40
horse power each, which forced the water into the cylinders, through a
tube half an inch in diameter. These steam engines were placed in the
Britannia and Anglesea piers. The press in the Anglesea pier is thus
described, the others being constructed in the same manner. The
hydraulic press stands on massive beams of wrought iron plates
constructed on the principle of the arch, placed in the tower above the
points where the tubes rest. The press consists of a huge cylinder, 9
feet 2 inches in length, 3 feet 6 inches outside diameter, and the ram 1
foot 8 inches in diameter, making the sides and bottom of the cylinder
11 inches thick; it was calculated that it would resist a pressure of
8000 or 9000 pounds to the square inch. The ram or piston was attached
to an exceedingly thick and heavy beam of cast iron, called the
cross-head, strengthened with bars of wrought iron. To the cross-head
were attached the huge chains that descended to the tubes far below, to
which they were secured, so that, as the ram was forced up 6 feet at
each stroke, the tube was raised the same distance. "The power of the
press is exerted on the tube by aid of chains, the links of which are 6
feet in length, bolted together in sets of eight or nine links
alternately.--The ram raises the cross-head 6 feet at each stroke, and
with it the tube, when that height is attained, a lower set of chains on
the beams grip the next set of links, and thus prevent them from
slipping down, whilst the clamps on the cross-heads are unscrewed, the
upper links taken off, and the ram and cross-head lowered to take
another stroke." To guard against all chances of injury to the tubes in
case of accident to the machinery, a contrivance was adopted by which
the tubes were followed up with wedges. The importance of this
precaution was fully proved on the very first attempt to raise the tube
on the Anglesea side, when the huge cylinder broke, almost at the
commencement of the operations. The following is the engineer's
interesting report of the accident:

"On Friday last (August 17, 1849), at a quarter to twelve o'clock, we
commenced lifting the tube at the Anglesea end, intending to raise it
six feet, and afterwards to have raised the opposite end the same

"The tube rose steadily to the height of two feet six inches, being
closely followed up by inch wooden boards packed beneath it, when
suddenly, and without any warning, the bottom of the hydraulic press
gave way, separating completely from the body of the press.

"The ram, cross-head, and chains descended violently on the press, with
a tremendous noise, the tube sinking down upon the wooden packing
beneath it. The bottom of the press, weighing nearly two tons and a
half, fell on the top of the tube, a depth of eighty feet.

"A sailor, named Owen Parry, was ascending a rope ladder at the time,
from the top of the tube into the tower; the broken piece of press in
its descent struck the ladder and shook him off; he fell on to the tube,
a height of fifty feet, receiving a contusion of the skull, and other
injuries, of so serious a nature that he died the same evening. He was
not engaged in the raising, and had only chosen to cross the tube, as
being the nearest road from one tower to the other. An inquest was held
on the following day, and a verdict of accidental death returned. No one
actually engaged in the operation was injured, although Mr. Edwin
Clark, who was superintending the operation, on the top of the
cross-head, and his brother, Mr. L. Clark, who was standing beneath it,
had both a very narrow escape.

"The tube is not at all injured, but some portions of the cast iron
lifting frames are broken, and require repairing; some weeks must elapse
before a new cylinder is made, and the operation continued."

Sir Francis Head, when he saw one of the tubes raised, and in its place,
observed, "It seemed surprising to us that by any arrangement of
materials, it could possibly be made strong enough to support even
itself,--much less heavily laden trains of passengers and goods, flying
through it, and actually passing each other in the air at railway speed.
And the more we called reason and reflection to our assistance, the more
incomprehensible did the mystery practically appear; for the plate iron
of which the aërial gallery is composed is literally _not so thick_ as
the lid, sides, and bottom which, by heartless contract, are _required_
for an elm coffin 6½ feet long, 2¼ wide, and 2 deep, of strength
merely sufficient to carry the corpse of an emaciated pauper from the
workhouse to his grave! The covering of this iron passage, 1841 feet in
length, is literally not thicker than the hide of an elephant; lastly,
it is scarcely thicker than the bark of the good old English oak,--and
if this noble sovereign, notwithstanding 'the heart' and interior
substance of which it boasts, is, even in the well-protected park in
which it has been born and bred, often prostrated by the storm, how
difficult is it to conceive that an attenuated aërial hollow beam, no
thicker than its mere rind, should, by human science, be constructed
strong enough to withstand, besides the weights rushing through it, the
natural gales and artificial squalls of wind to which, throughout its
entire length, and at its fearful height, it is permanently to be

Notwithstanding these "incomprehensible" speculations, the tubes are
abundantly strong to sustain the pressure of the heaviest trains, even
were they to stand still in the middle of the bridge. It is calculated
that each tube, in its weakest part, would sustain a pressure of four or
five thousand tons, "support a line of battle ship, with all her
munitions and stores on board," and "bear a line of locomotives covering
the entire bridge." The bridge was completed, and the first train passed
through it March 5th, 1850. The total cost of this gigantic structure
was only £601,865.


Ancient Rome was built upon seven hills, which are now scarcely
discoverable on account of the vast quantities of rubbish with which the
valleys are filled. Pliny estimates the circumference of the city in his
time at 13,000 paces (which nearly agrees with modern measurements), and
the population at 3,000,000. Rome was filled with magnificent public
edifices, temples, theatres, amphitheatres, circuses, naumachiæ,
porticos, basilicæ, baths, gardens, triumphal arches, columns, sewers,
aqueducts, sepulchres, public and private palaces, etc.

In the time of the Cæsars, fourteen magnificent aqueducts, supported by
immense arches, conducted whole rivers into Rome, from a distance of
many miles, and supplied one hundred and fifty public fountains, one
hundred and eighteen large public baths, the artificial seas in which
naval combats were represented in the Colosseum, and the golden palace
of Nero, besides the water necessary to supply the daily use of the
inhabitants. One hundred thousand marble and bronze statues ornamented
the public squares, the temples, the streets, and the houses of the
nobility: ninety colossal statues raised on pedestals; and forty-eight
Egyptian obelisks of red granite, some of the largest size, also adorned
the city.

Such was ancient Rome, "the Eternal City." Although visited for more
than a thousand years by various calamities, she is still the most
majestic of cities; the charm of beauty, dignity, and grandeur still
lingers around the ruins of ancient, as well as the splendid structures
of modern Rome, and brilliant recollections of every age are connected
with the monuments which the passing traveler meets at every step.


The Capitol or Citadel of ancient Rome stood on the Capitoline hill, the
smallest of the seven hills of Rome, called the _Saturnine_ and
_Tarpeian rock_. It was begun B.C. 614, by Tarquinius Priscus, but was
not completed till after the expulsion of the kings. After being thrice
destroyed by fire and civil commotion, it was rebuilt by Domitian, who
instituted there the Capitoline games. Dionysius says the temple, with
the exterior palaces, was 200 feet long, and 185 broad. The whole
building consisted of three temples, which were dedicated to Jupiter,
Juno, and Minerva, and separated from one another by walls. In the wide
portico, triumphal banquets were given to the people. The statue of
Jupiter, in the Capitol, represented the god sitting on a throne of
ivory and gold, and consisted in the earliest times of clay painted red;
under Trajan, it was formed of gold. The roof of the temple was made of
bronze; it was gilded by Q. Catulus. The doors were of the same metal.
Splendor and expense were profusely lavished upon the whole edifice. The
gilding alone cost 12,000 talents (about $12,000,000), for which reason
the Romans called it the _Golden Capitol_. On the pediment stood a
chariot drawn by four horses, at first of clay, and afterwards of brass
gilded. The temple itself contained an immense quantity of the most
magnificent presents. The most important state papers, and particularly
the Sibylline books were preserved in it. A few pillars and some ruins
are all that now remain of the magnificent temple of Jupiter
Capitolinus. Its site is mostly occupied by the church of the
Franciscans, and partly by the modern capitol called the _Campidoglio_,
which was erected after the design of Michael Angelo, consisting of
three buildings. From the summit of the middle one, the spectator has a
splendid view of one of the most remarkable regions in the world--the
Campagna, up to the mountains. For a description of the Colosseum, see
vol ii, page 29, of this work.


Modern Rome is about thirteen miles in circuit, and is divided by the
Tiber into two parts. In 1830, Rome contained 144,542 inhabitants,
35,900 houses, 346 churches, 30 monasteries, and upwards of 120 palaces.
The view of the majestic ruins; the solemn grandeur of the churches and
palaces; the recollections of the past; the religious customs; the magic
and almost melancholy tranquillity which pervades the city; the
enjoyment of the endless treasures of art--all conspire to raise the
mind of the traveler to a high state of excitement. The churches,
palaces, villas, squares, streets, fountains, aqueducts, antiquities,
ruins--in short, everything proclaims the ancient majesty and the
present greatness of Rome. Almost every church, palace, and villa is a
treasury of art. Among the churches, St. Peter's is the most
conspicuous, and is, perhaps, the most beautiful building in the world.
Bramante began it; Sangallo and Peruzzi succeeded him; but Michael
Angelo, who erected its immense dome, which is four hundred and fifty
feet high to the top of the cross, designed the greatest part. Many
other architects were often employed upon it; Maderno finished the front
and the two towers. The erection of this edifice, from 1506 to 1614,
cost 45,000,000 Roman crowns. Before we arrive at this grand temple, the
eye is attracted by the beautiful square in front of it, surrounded by a
magnificent colonnade by Bernini, and ornamented by an Egyptian obelisk,
together with two splendid fountains. Upon entering the vestibule,
Giotto's mosaic, la Navicella, is seen. Under the portico, opposite the
great door, is Bernini's great bas relief representing Christ commanding
Peter to feed his sheep; and at the ends of the portico are the
equestrian statues of Constantine by Bernini, and of Charlemagne by
Cornachini. The union of these masterpieces has an indescribable effect.
The harmony and proportion which prevail in the interior of this august
temple are such, that, immense as it is, the eye distinguishes all the
parts without confusion or difficulty. When each object is minutely
examined, we are astonished at its magnitude, so much more considerable
than appears at first sight. The immense canopy of the high altar,
supported by four bronze pillars of 120 feet in height, particularly
attracts the attention. The dome is the boldest work of modern
architecture. The cross thereon is 450 feet above the pavement. The
lantern affords the most beautiful prospect of the city and the
surrounding country. The splendid mosaics, tombs, paintings, frescos,
works in marble, gilded bronze and stucco, the new sacristy--a beautiful
piece of architecture, but not in unison with the rest--deserve separate
consideration. The two most beautiful churches in Rome next to St.
Peter's are the St. John's of the Lateran, and the Santa Maria Maggiore.
The former, built by Constantine the Great, is the parochial church of
the pope; it therefore takes precedence of all others, and is called
_Omnium urbis el orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput_ (the head and mother
of all churches of the city and the world). In it is celebrated the
coronation of the popes. It contains several pillars of granite, _verde
antico_, and gilt bronze; the twelve apostles by Rusconi and Legros; and
the beautiful chapel of Corsini, which is unequalled in its proportions,
built by Alexander Galilei. The altar-piece is a mosaic from a painting
by Guido, and the beautiful porphyry sarcophagus, which is under the
statue of Clement XII., was found in the Pantheon, and is supposed to
have contained the ashes of M. Agrippa. The nave of the church of Santa
Maria Maggiore is supported by forty Ionic pillars of Grecian marble,
which were taken from a temple of Juno Lucina: the ceiling was gilded
with the first gold brought from Peru. We are here struck with
admiration at the mosaics; the high altar, consisting of an antique
porphyry sarcophagus; the chapel of Sixtus V., built from the designs of
Fontana, and richly ornamented; the chapel of Paul V., adorned with
marble and precious stones; the chapel of Sforza, by Michael Angelo; and
the sepulchres of Guglielmo della Porta and Algardi. In the square
before the front is a Corinthian column, which is considered a
masterpiece of its kind. The largest church in Rome next to St. Peter's
was the Basilica di San Paolo fuori delle Mura, on the road to Ostia,
burnt a few years since. The church of S. Lorenzo, without the city,
possesses some rare monuments of antiquity. The church of San Pietro in
Vincola contains the celebrated statue of Moses, by Michael Angelo. The
church of St. Agnes, in the place Navona, begun by Rainaldi and
completed by Borromini, is one of the most highly ornamented,
particularly with modern sculpture. Here is the admirable relief of
Algardi, representing St. Agnes deprived of her clothes, and covered
only with her hair. The Basilica of St. Sebastian, before the Porta
Capena, contains the statue of the dying saint, by Giorgetti, a pupil of
Algardi, and the master of Bernini. Under these churches are the
catacombs, which formerly served as places of burial. In the church of
St. Agnes, before the Porta Pia, among many other beautiful columns are
four of porphyry, belonging to the high altar, and considered the most
beautiful in Rome. In a small chapel is a bust of the Savior by Michael
Angelo--a masterpiece. In the church of St. Augustine, there is a
picture by Raphael representing the prophet Isaiah, and an Ascension by
Lanfranco. The monastery has a rich library, called the Angelica, and
increased by the library of cardinal Passionei. The following churches
also deserve to be mentioned, on account of their architecture and works
of art; the churches of St. Ignatius, St. Cecilia, S. Andrea della
Valle, S. Andrea del Noviziato, the Pantheon (also called la Rotonda),
in which Raffaelle, Annibale Caracci, Mengs, etc., are interred. All the
364 churches of Rome contain monuments of art or antiquity. Among the
palaces, the principal is the Vatican, an immense pile, in which the
most valuable monuments of antiquity, and the works of the greatest
modern masters are preserved. Here are the museum Pio-Clementinum,
established by Clement XIV., and enlarged by Pius VI., and the
celebrated library of the Vatican. The treasures carried away by the
French have been restored. Among the paintings of this palace, the most
beautiful are Raffaelle's frescos in the _stanze_ and _loggie_. The
principal oil paintings are in the _appartamento_ Borgia, which also
contains the Transfiguration, by Raphael. In the Sistine chapel is the
Last Judgment by Michael Angelo. The popes have chosen the palace of
Monte Cavallo, or the Quirinal palace, with its extensive and beautiful
gardens, for their usual residence, on account of its healthy air and
fine prospect. The Lateran palace, which Sixtus V. had rebuilt by
Fontana, was changed, in 1693, into an alms-house. Besides these, the
following are celebrated: the palace della Cancellario, the palace de'
Conservatori, the palace of St. Mark, the buildings of the Academy, etc.
Among the private palaces, the Barberini is the largest; it was built by
Bernini, in a beautiful style. Here are the Magdalen of Guido, one of
the finest works of Caravaggio, the Paintings of the great hall, a
masterpiece of Pietro da Cortona, and other valuable paintings. Of works
of sculpture, the Sleeping Fawn, now in Munich, was formerly here; the
masterly group representing Atalanta and Meleager, a Juno, a sick Satyr
by Bernini, the bust of Cardinal Barberini by the same artist, and the
busts of Marius, Sylla, and Scipio Africanus, are in this palace. The
library is calculated to contain 60,000 printed books, and 9000
manuscripts; a cabinet of medals, bronzes, and precious stones, is also
connected with the library. The Borghese palace, erected by Bramante, is
extensive, and in a beautiful style; the colonnade of the court is
splendid. This palace contains a large collection of paintings, rare
works of sculpture, valuable tables, and utensils of rich workmanship,
of red porphyry, alabaster, and other materials. The upper hall is
unrivalled; the great landscapes of Vernet, with which it is adorned,
are so true to nature, that, upon entering, one imagines himself
transported into real scenes. The palace Albani, the situation of which
is remarkably fine, possesses a valuable library, a great number of
paintings, and a collection of designs by Caracci, Polidoro, Lanfranco,
Spagnoletto, Cignani, and others. The palace Altieri, one of the largest
in Rome, is in a simple style of architecture, and contains rare
manuscripts, medals, paintings, etc., and valuable furniture. In the
palace Colonna there is a rich collection of paintings by the first
masters; all the rooms are decorated with them, and particularly the
gallery, which is one of the finest in Europe. In the gardens are the
ruins of the baths of Constantine and those of the temple of Sol. The
Aldobrandini palace contains the proudest monument of ancient
painting--the Aldobrandine Wedding, a fresco purchased by Pius VII., in
1818, in which the design is admirable. The great Farnese palace, begun
from the designs of Sangallo, and completed under the direction of
Michael Angelo, is celebrated both for its beauty and its treasures of
art. The Caracci and Domenichino have immortalized themselves by their
frescos in its gallery. The Farnese Hercules, the masterly Flora, and
the urn of Cæcilia Metella, formerly adorned the court; and in the
palace itself was the beautiful group of the Farnese bull. But when the
king of Naples inherited the Farnese estate, these statues, with other
works of art, were carried to Naples, where they now adorn the palace
degli Studi. Not far off is the palace Corsini, where queen Christina
lived and died in 1689. It contains a valuable library and gallery. The
palace Giustiniani also had a gallery adorned with numerous valuable
statues and works of sculpture; its principal ornaments were the
celebrated statue of Minerva, the finest of that goddess now known, and
the bas-relief of Amalthæa suckling Jupiter. These treasures were
nominally bought by Napoleon, and are now in Paris. The paintings are
chiefly in the possession of the king of Prussia. In the palace Spada is
the statue of Pompey, at the foot of which Cæsar fell under the daggers
of his murderers. We have yet to mention the palace Costaguti, on
account of its fine frescos; Chigi, for its beautiful architecture, its
paintings and library; Mattei, for its numerous statues, reliefs, and
ancient inscriptions; the palace of Pamfili, built by Borromini, for its
splendid paintings and internal magnificence; that of Pamfili in the
square of Navona, with a library and gallery; Rospigliosi, upon the
Quirinal hill, etc. Among the palaces of Rome, which bear the name of
_villas_, is the Villa Medici, on the Pincian mount, on which were
formerly situated the splendid gardens of Lucullus: it once contained a
vast number of masterpieces of every kind; but the grand dukes Leopold
and Ferdinand have removed the finest works (among them, the group of
Niobe, by Scopas) to Florence. This palace, however, is yet worthy of
being visited. Under the portico of the Villa Negroni are the two fine
statues of Sylla and Marius, seated on the _sella curulis_. In the
extensive garden, which is three miles in circuit, some beautiful fresco
paintings have been found in the ruins of some of the houses. The Villa
Mattei, on the Coelian mount, contains a splendid collection of
statues. The Villa Ludovisi, on the Pincian mount, not far from the
ruins of the circus and the gardens of Sallust, is one and a half miles
in circuit, and contains valuable monuments of art, particularly the
Aurora of Guercino, an ancient group of the senator Papirius and his
mother (or rather of Phædra and Hippolytus), another of Arria and Pætus,
and Bernini's rape of Proserpine. The Villa Borghese, near Rome, has a
fine but an unhealthy situation. The greatest part of the city, and the
environs as far as Frascati and Tivoli, are visible from it. It has a
garden, with a park three miles in circuit. This palace was ornamented
in its interior, and furnished with so much richness and elegance, that
it might have been considered the first edifice in Rome, next to the
capitol, particularly for its fine collection of statues. The most
remarkable among them were the Fighting Gladiator; Silenus and a Faun;
Seneca, in black marble, or rather a slave at the baths; Camillus; the
Hermaphrodite; the Centaur and Cupid; two Fauns, playing on the flute;
Ceres; an Egyptian; a statue of the younger Nero; the busts of Lucius
Verus, Alexander, Faustina and Verus; various relievos, among which was
one representing Curtius; an urn, on which was represented the festival
of Bacchus; another supported by the Graces; two horns of plenty, etc.
The greatest part of these has not been restored from Paris. The
exterior is ornamented with ancient reliefs. The Villa Pamfili, before
the Porta di San Pancrazio, also called Belrespiro, has an agreeable
situation, and is seven miles in circumference. The architecture is by
Algardi, but has been censured by connoisseurs. In the interior there
are some fine specimens of sculpture. Full descriptions of this and of
the Villa Borghese have been published. The Villa Albani, upon an
eminence which commands Tivoli and the Sabina, is an edifice of taste
and splendor. The cardinal Alexander Albani expended immense sums upon
it, and, during the space of fifty years, collected a splendid cabinet.
The ceiling of the gallery was painted by Mengs, and is a model of
elegance. The Villa Lante and the Villa Corsini deserve to be mentioned
on account of their fine prospects. The Villa Doria (formerly Algiati),
in which Raffaelle lived, contains three fresco paintings of this great
master. The Villa Farnese contains the remains of the palace of the
Roman emperors. The capitol contains so many and such magnificent
objects of every description, that it is impossible to enumerate them
here. We must be satisfied with mentioning the equestrian statue of
Marcus Aurelius, before the palace; the Captive Kings, in the court;
the _columna rostrata_; and within, the colossal statue of Pyrrhus; the
tomb of Severus; the Centaurs, of basalt; the beautiful alabaster
pillars; the masterpiece in mosaic, which once belonged to cardinal
Furietti, representing three doves on the edge of a vessel filled with
water, which is described by Pliny. The fountains are among the
principal ornaments of the squares in Rome. The fountain in the Piazza
Navona, the most splendid of them all, has been particularly admired; it
is surmounted by an obelisk, and ornamented by four colossal statues,
which represent the four principal rivers in the world. The fountain of
Paul V., near the church di San Pietro in Montorio, is in bad taste, but
furnishes such a body of water, that several mills are carried by it.
The fountain di Termini is adorned with three reliefs, representing
Moses striking water from the rock, and with a colossal statue of that
prophet, and two Egyptian lions in basalt. The splendid fountain of
Trevi supplies the best water, which it receives through an ancient
aqueduct. Among the streets, the Strada Felice and the Strada Pia, which
cross each other, are the most remarkable; among the bridges, that of
St. Angelo (formerly Pons Ælius), 300 feet in length; and among the
gates the Porta del Popolo (formerly Porta Flaminia). Of ancient
monuments, the following yet remain: the Pantheon, the Coliseum, the
column of Trajan, that of Antonine, the amphitheatre of Vespasian; the
mausoleum of Augustus, the mausoleum of Adrian (now the fortress of St.
Angelo); the triumphal arches of Severus, Titus, Constantine, Janus,
Nero, and Drusus; the ruins of the temple of Jupiter Stator, of Jupiter
Tonans, of Concordia, of Pax, of Antoninus and Faustina, of the sun and
moon, of Romulus, of Romulus and Remus, of Pallas, of Fortuna Virilis,
of Fortuna Muliebris, of Virtue, of Bacchus, of Vesta, of Minerva
Medica, and of Venus and Cupid; the remains of the baths of Dioclesian,
of Caracalla and Titus, etc.; the ruins of the theatre of Pompey, near
the Curia Pompeii, where Cæsar was murdered, and those of the theatre of
Marcellus; the ruins of the old forum (now called Campo Vaccino); the
remains of the old bridges; the circus Maximus; the circus of Caracalla;
the house of Cicero; the Curia Hostilia; the trophies of Marius; the
portico of Philip and Octavius; the country house and tower of Mæcenas;
the Claudian aqueduct; the monuments of the family of Aruns, of the
Scipios, of Metella (called Capo di Bove); the prison of Jugurtha
(Carcero Mamertino), in which St. Peter was imprisoned; the monument of
Caius Cestius, which is entirely uninjured, in form of a pyramid, near
which the Protestants are buried; the Cloaca Maxima, built by Tarquin,
etc. Besides the obelisk near the Porta del Popolo, that raised in the
pontificate of Pius VI., on mount Cavallo, is deserving of notice. The
principal collections of literature and the arts have already been
noticed; but the Museo Kircheliano deserves to be particularly
mentioned; there are, besides, many private collections and monastic
libraries, which contain many valuable works. Such treasures, especially
in the arts, make Rome the great school of painters, statuaries, and
architects, and a place of pilgrimage to all lovers of the arts; and
there are here innumerable _studios_ of painters and sculptors. Roman
art seems to have received a new impulse. The academy of San Luca was
established solely for the art of painting. There are also many literary
institutions in the city.


It is recorded in the archives of Padua, says Milizia, that when
Rhadagasius entered Italy, and the cruelties exercised by the Visigoths
obliged the people to seek refuge in various places, an architect of
Candia, named Eutinopus, was the first to retire to the fens of the
Adriatic, where he built a house, which remained the only one there for
several years. At length, when Alaric continued to desolate the country,
others sought an asylum in the same marshes, and built twenty-four
houses, which formed the germ of Venice. The security of the place now
induced people to settle there rapidly, and Venice soon sprung up a city
and gradually rose to be mistress of the seas. The Venetian historians
inform us that the house of Eutinopus, during a dreadful conflagration,
was miraculously saved by a shower of rain, at the prayer of the
architect, who made a vow to convert it into a church; he did this, and
dedicated it to St. James, the magistrates and inhabitants contributing
to build and ornament the edifice. The church is still standing, in the
quarter of the Rialto, which is universally considered the oldest part
of Venice.


Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths, and afterwards also king of Italy,
was born at Amali, near Vienna, in 455, and died in 526. Though a Goth,
he was so far from delighting in the destruction of public monuments,
and works of art, that he issued edicts for their preservation at Rome
and throughout Italy, and assigned revenues for the repair of the public
edifices, for which purpose he employed the most skillful and learned
architects, particularly Aloïsius, Boëtius, and Symmachus. According to
Cassiodorus (lib. ii. Varior. Epist. xxxix.), Theodoric said: "It is
glorious to preserve the works of antiquity; and it is our duty to
restore the most useful and the most beautiful." Symmachus had the
direction of the buildings constructed or rebuilt at Rome. The king thus
wrote to him: "You have constructed fine edifices; you have, moreover,
disposed of them with so much wisdom that they equal those of antiquity,
and serve as examples to the moderns; and all you show us is a perfect
image of the excellence of your mind, because it is not possible to
build correctly without good sense and a well cultivated understanding."

In his directions to the Prefect of Rome, on the architecture of the
public edifices, Theodoric thus wrote:

"The beauty of the Roman buildings requires a skillful overseer, in
order that such a wonderful forest of edifices should be preserved with
constant care, and the new ones properly constructed, both internally
and externally. Therefore we direct our generosity not only to the
preservation of ancient things, but to the investing the new ones with
the glories of antiquity. Be it known, therefore, to your illustrious
person, that for this end an architect of the Roman walls is appointed.
And because the study of the arts requires assistance, we desire that he
may have every reasonable accommodation that his predecessors have
enjoyed. He will certainly see things superior to what he has read of,
and more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. The statues still
feel their renowned authors, and appear to live: he will observe
expressed in the bronze, the veins, the muscles swollen by exertion, the
nerves gradually stretched, and the figure expressing those feelings
which act on a living subject.

"It is said that the first artists in Italy were the Etruscans, and thus
posterity has given to them, as well as to Rome, almost the power of
creating man. How wonderful are the horses, so full of spirit, with
their fiery nostrils, their sparkling eyes, their easy and graceful
limbs;--they would move, if not of metal. And what shall we say of those
lofty, slender, and finely fluted columns, which appear a part of the
sublime structure they support? That appears wax, which is hard and
elegant metal; the joints in the marble being like natural veins. The
beauty of art is to deceive the eye. Ancient historians acquaint us with
only seven wonders in the world: the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus; the
magnificent sepulchre of the king Mausolus, from whence is derived the
word mausoleum; the bronze Colossus of the Sun, in Rhodes; the statue of
Jupiter Olympius, of gold and ivory, formed by the masterly hand of
Phidias, the first of architects; the palace of Cyrus, King of Media,
built by Memnon of stones united by gold; the walls of Babylon,
constructed by Semiramis of brick, pitch, and iron; the pyramids of
Egypt, the shadows of which do not extend beyond the space of their
construction. But who can any longer consider these as wonders, after
having seen so many in Rome? Those were famous because they preceded us;
it is natural that the new productions of the then barbarous ages should
be renowned. It may truly be said that all Rome is wonderful. We have
therefore selected a man clever in the arts, who, in seeing so many
ingenious things of antiquity, instead of remaining merely enchanted
with them, has set himself to work to investigate the reason, study
their books, and instruct himself, that he may become as learned as
those in the place of whom he is to consider himself appointed."

Milizia says of Theodoric, "Is this the language of a Gothic barbarian,
the destroyer of good taste? Pericles, Alexander, Adrian, or one of the
Medici could not have reasoned better." And again, "Can these Goths be
the inventors of that architecture vulgarly called Gothic? and are these
the barbarians said to have been the destroyers of the beautiful
monuments of antiquity? Ecclesiastical history gives to the good
Christians and the jealous ecclesiastics the honor of having dismantled
temples, and disfigured statues in Italy, Greece, Asia, and Egypt. *  *  *
It is clear that the Goths were not the authors of that architecture
called Gothic. The Goths and barbarians who overran Italy had not any
characteristic architecture, good or bad. They brought with them neither
architects, painters, nor poets. They were all soldiers, and when fixed
in Italy employed Italian artists; but as in that country, good taste
was much on the decline, it now became more debased, notwithstanding the
efforts made by the Goths to revive it."


This wonderful genius was of royal descent, and born at Syracuse about
B.C. 287. He was a relative of king Hiero, who held him in the highest
esteem and favor, though he does not appear to have held any public
office, preferring to devote himself entirely to science. Such was his
enthusiasm, that he appears at times to have been so completely absorbed
in contemplation and calculations, as to be totally unconscious of what
was passing around him. We cannot fully estimate his services to
mathematics, for want of an acquaintance with the previous state of
science; still we know that he enriched it with discoveries of the
highest importance, upon which the moderns have founded their
admeasurements of curvilinear surfaces and solids. Euclid, in his
elements, considers only the relations of some of these magnitudes to
each other, but does not compare them with surfaces and solids bounded
by straight lines. Archimedes developed the proportions necessary for
effecting this comparison, in his treatises on the sphere and cylinder,
the spheroid and conoid, and in his work on the measure of the circle.
He rose to still more abstruse considerations in his treatise on the
spiral. Archimedes is also the only one of the ancients who has left us
anything satisfactory on the theory of mechanics and hydrostatics. He
first taught the principle "that a body immersed in a fluid, loses as
much in weight, as the weight of an equal volume of the fluid." He
discovered this while bathing, which is said to have caused him so much
joy that he ran home from the bath undressed, exclaiming, "I have found
it; I have found it!" By means of this principle, he determined how much
alloy a goldsmith had added to a crown which king Hiero had ordered of
pure gold. Archimedes had a profound knowledge of mechanics, and in a
moment of enthusiasm, with which the extraordinary performances of his
machines had inspired him, he exclaimed that he "could move the earth
with ease, by means of his machines placed on a fixed point near it." He
was the inventor of the compound pulley, and probably of the endless
screw which bears his name. He invented many surprising engines and
machines. Some suppose that he visited Egypt, and raised the sites of
the towns and villages of Egypt, and begun those mounds of earth by
means of which communication was kept up from town to town, during the
inundations of the Nile. When Marcellus, the Roman consul, besieged
Syracuse, he devoted all his talents to the defense of his native
country. He constructed machines which suddenly raised up in the air the
ships of the enemy in the bay before the city, and then let them fall
with such violence into the water that they sunk; he also set them on
fire with his burning glasses. Polybius, Livy, and Plutarch speak in
detail, with wonder and admiration, of the machines with which he
repelled the attacks of the Romans. When the town was taken and given up
to pillage, the Roman general gave strict orders to his soldiers not to
hurt Archimedes, and even offered a reward to him who should bring him
alive and safe to his presence. All these precautions proved useless,
for the philosopher was so deeply engaged at the time in solving a
problem, that he was even ignorant that the enemy were in possession of
the city, and when a soldier entered his apartment, and commanded him to
follow him, he exclaimed, according to some, "Disturb not my circle!"
and to others, he begged the soldier not to "kill him till he had solved
his problem"; but the rough warrior, ignorant of the august person
before him, little heeded his request, and struck him down. This
happened B.C. 212, so that Archimedes, at his death, must have been
about 75 years old. Marcellus raised a monument over him, and placed
upon it a cylinder and a sphere, thereby to immortalize his discovery of
their mutual relations, on which he set a particular value; but it
remained long neglected and unknown, till Cicero, during his questorship
of Sicily, found it near one of the gates of Syracuse, and had it
repaired. The story of his burning glasses had always appeared fabulous
to some of the moderns, till the experiments of Buffon demonstrated its
truth and practicability. These celebrated glasses are supposed to have
been reflectors made of metal, and capable of producing their effect at
the distance of a bow-shot.



This eminent architect was one of those illustrious men, who, having
conceived and matured a grand design, proceed, cool, calm, and
indefatigable, to put it in execution, undismayed by obstacles that seem
insuperable, by poverty, want, and what is worse, the jeers of men whose
capacities are too limited to comprehend their sublime conceptions. The
world is apt to term such men enthusiasts, madmen, or fools, till their
glorious achievements stamp them almost divinely inspired.

Brunelleschi was nobly descended on his mother's side, she being a
member of the Spini family, which, according to Bottari, became extinct
towards the middle of the last century. His ancestors on his father's
side were also learned and distinguished men--his father was a notary,
his grandfather "a very learned man," and his great-grandfather "a
famous physician in those times." Filippo's father, though poor,
educated him for the legal or medical profession; but such was his
passion for art and mechanics, that his father, greatly against his
will, was compelled to allow him to follow the bent of his genius: he
accordingly placed him, at a proper age, in the Guild of the Goldsmiths,
that he might acquire the art of design. Filippo soon became a
proficient in the setting of precious stones, which he did much better
than any old artists in the vocation. He also wrought in niello, and
executed several figures which were highly commended, particularly two
figures of Prophets, for an altar in the Cathedral of Pistoja. Filippo
next turned his attention to sculpture, and executed works in
basso-relievo, which showed an extraordinary genius. Subsequently,
having made the acquaintance of several learned men, he began to turn
his attention to the computation of the divisions of time, the
adjustment of weights, the movement of wheels, etc. He next bent his
thoughts to the study of perspective, to which, before his time, so
little attention was paid by artists, that the figures often appeared to
be slipping off the canvas, and the buildings had not a true point of
view. He was one of the first who revived the Greek practice of
rendering the precepts of geometry subservient to the painter; for this
purpose, he studied with the famous geometrician Toscanelli, who was
also the instructor, friend, and counsellor of Columbus. Filippo pursued
his investigations until he brought perspective to great perfection; he
was the first who discovered a perfectly correct method of taking the
ground plan and sections of buildings, by means of intersecting
lines--"a truly ingenious thing," says Vasari, "and of great utility to
the arts of design." Filippo freely communicated his discoveries to his
brother artists. He was imitated in mosaic by Benedetto da Macano, and
in painting by Masaccio, who were his pupils. Vasari says Brunelleschi
was a man of such exalted genius, that "we may truly declare him to have
been given to us by Heaven, for the purpose of imparting a new spirit to
architecture, which for hundreds of years had been lost; for the men of
those times had badly expended great treasures in the erection of
buildings without order, constructed in a most wretched manner, after
deplorable designs, with fantastic inventions, labored graces, and worse
decorations. But it then pleased Heaven, the earth having been for so
many years destitute of any distinguished mind and divine genius, that
Filippo Brunelleschi should leave to the world, the most noble, vast,
and beautiful edifice that had ever been constructed in modern times, or
even in those of the ancients; giving proof that the talent of the
Tuscan artists, although lost for a time, was not extinguished. He was,
moreover, adorned by the most excellent qualities, among which was that
of kindliness, insomuch that there never was a man of more benign and
amicable disposition; in judgment he was calm and dispassionate, and
laid aside all thought of his own interest and even that of his friends,
whenever he perceived the merits and talents of others to demand that he
should do so. He knew himself, instructed many from the stores of his
genius, and was ever ready to succor his neighbor in all his
necessities; he declared himself the confirmed enemy of all vice, and
the friend of those who labored in the cause of virtue. Never did he
spend his moments vainly, but, although constantly occupied in his own
works, in assisting those of others, or administering to their
necessities, he had yet always time to bestow on his friends, for whom
his aid was ever ready."

In the meantime, Brunelleschi had studied architecture, and made such
progress that he had already conceived two grand projects--the one was
the revival of the good manner of ancient architecture, which was then
extinct, and the other was to discover a method for constructing the
cupola of the church of Santa Maria del Fiore, in Florence, the
difficulties of which were so great that, after the death of Arnolfo di
Lapi, no architect had been found of sufficient courage and capacity to
attempt the vaulting of that cupola.[1] If he could accomplish one or
both of these designs, he believed that he would not only immortalize
his own name, but confer a lasting benefit on mankind. Filippo, having
resolved to devote himself entirely to architecture in future, set out
for Rome in company with his friend Donatello, without imparting his
purpose to any one. Here his mind became so absorbed that he labored
incessantly, scarcely allowing himself the rest which nature required.
He examined, measured, and made careful drawings of all the edifices,
ruins, arches, and vaults of antiquity; to these he devoted perpetual
study, and if by chance he found fragments of capitals, columns,
cornices, or basements of buildings, partly buried in the earth, he set
laborers at work to lay them open to view. One day, Filippo and
Donatello found an earthen vase full of ancient coins, which caused a
report to be spread about Rome that the artists were _treasure-seekers_,
and this name they often heard, as they passed along the streets,
negligently clothed, the people believing them to be men who studied
geomancy, for the discovery of treasures. Donatello soon returned to
Florence, but Filippo pursued his studies with unremitting diligence.
Having exhausted his means, although he lived in the most frugal manner,
he contrived to supply his wants, says Milizia, by pawning his jewels,
but Vasari with greater probability, by setting precious stones for the
goldsmiths, who were his friends. "Nor did he rest," says Vasari, "until
he had drawn every description of fabric--temples, round, square, or
octagon; basilicas, aqueducts, baths, arches, the Colosseum,
amphitheatres, and every church built of bricks, of which he examined
all the modes of binding and clamping, as well as the turning of the
vaults and arches; he took note, likewise, of all the methods used for
uniting the stones, as well as of the means used for securing the
equilibrium and close conjunction of all the parts; and having found
that in all the larger stones there was a hole, formed exactly in the
centre of each on the under side, he discovered that this was for the
insertion of the iron instrument with which the stones are drawn up, and
which is called by us the mason's clamps (_la ulivella_), an invention,
the use of which he restored, and ever afterwards put in practice. The
different orders were next divided by his cares, each order, the Doric,
Ionic, or Corinthian being placed apart; and such was the effect of his
zeal in that study, that he became capable of entirely reconstructing
the city in his imagination, and of beholding Rome as she had been
before she was ruined. But in the year 1407 the air of the place caused
Filippo some slight indisposition, when he was advised by his friends to
try change of air. He consequently returned to Florence, where many
buildings had suffered by his absence, and for these he made many
drawings and gave numerous counsels on his return.

"In the same year an assemblage of architects and engineers was gathered
in Florence, by the Superintendents of the works of Santa Maria del
Fiore, and by the Syndics of the Guild of wool-workers, to consult on
the means by which the cupola might be raised. Among these appeared
Filippo, who gave it as his opinion that the edifice above the roof must
be constructed, not after the design of Arnolfo, but that a frieze,
fifteen braccia high, must be erected, with a large window in each of
its sides: since not only would this take the weight off the piers of
the tribune, but would also permit the cupola itself to be more easily

The obstacles appeared so insuperable to the Superintendents and the
Syndics, that they delayed the execution of the cupola for several
years. In the meantime, Filippo secretly made models and designs for his
cupola, which perpetually occupied his thoughts. He boldly asserted that
the project was not only practicable, but that it could be done with
much less difficulty and at less expense than was believed. At length,
his boldness, genius, and powerful arguments, brought many of the
citizens to his opinion, though he refused to show his models, because
he knew the powerful opposition and influences he would have to
encounter, and the almost certain loss of the honor of building the
cupola, which he coveted above everything else. Vasari thus continues
his admirable history: "But one morning the fancy took him, hearing that
there was some talk of providing engineers for the construction of the
cupola, of returning to Rome, thinking that he would have more
reputation and be more sought for from abroad, than if he remained in
Florence. When Filippo had returned to Rome accordingly, the acuteness
of his genius and his readiness of resource were taken into
consideration, when it was remembered that in his discourses he had
showed a confidence and courage that had not been found in any of the
other architects, who stood confounded, together with the builders,
having lost all power of proceeding; for they were convinced that no
method of constructing the cupola would ever be found, nor any beams
that would make a scaffold strong enough to support the framework and
weight of so vast an edifice. The Superintendents were therefore
resolved to have an end of the matter, and wrote to Filippo in Rome,
entreating him to repair to Florence, when he, who desired nothing
better, returned very readily. The wardens of Santa Maria del Fiore and
the syndics of the Guild of Woolworkers, having assembled on his
arrival, set before him all the difficulties, from the greatest to the
smallest, which had been made by the masters, who were present, together
with himself, at the audience: whereupon Filippo replied in these
words--'Gentlemen Superintendents, there is no doubt that great
undertakings always present difficulties in their execution; and if none
ever did so before, this of yours does it to an extent of which you are
not perhaps even yet fully aware, for I do not know that even the
ancients ever raised so enormous a vault as this will be. I, who have
many times reflected on the scaffoldings required, both within and
without, and on the method to be pursued for working securely at this
erection, have never been able to come to a decision; and I am
confounded, no less by the breadth than the height of the edifice. Now,
if the cupola could be arched in a circular form, we might pursue the
method adopted by the Romans in erecting the Pantheon of Rome; that is,
the Rotunda. But here we must follow the eight sides of the building,
dove-tailing, and, so to speak, enchaining the stones, which will be a
very difficult thing. Yet, remembering that this is a temple consecrated
to God and the Virgin, I confidently trust, that for a work executed to
their honor, they will not fail to infuse knowledge where it is now
wanting, and will bestow strength, wisdom, and genius on him who shall
be the author of such a project. But how can I help you in the matter,
seeing that the work is not mine? I tell you plainly, that if it
belonged to me, my courage and power would beyond all doubt suffice to
discover means whereby the work might be effected without so many
difficulties; but as yet I have not reflected on the matter to any
extent, and you would have me tell you by what method it is to be
accomplished. But even if your worships should determine that the cupola
shall be raised, you will be compelled not only to make trial of me, who
do not consider myself capable of being the sole adviser in so important
a matter, but also to expend money, and to command that within a year,
and on a fixed day, many architects shall assemble in Florence; not
Tuscans and Italians only, but Germans, French, and of every other
nation: to them it is that such an undertaking should be proposed, to
the end that having discussed the matter and decided among so many
masters, the work may be commenced and entrusted to him who shall give
the best evidence of capacity, or shall display the best method and
judgment for the execution of so great a charge. I am not able to offer
you other counsel, or to propose a better arrangement than this.'

"The proposal and plan of Filippo pleased the Syndics and Wardens of the
works, but they would have liked that he should meanwhile prepare a
model, on which they might have decided. But he showed himself to have
no such intention, and taking leave of them, declared that he was
solicited by letters to return to Rome. The syndics then perceiving that
their request and those of the wardens did not suffice to detain him,
caused several of his friends to entreat his stay; but Filippo not
yielding to these prayers, the wardens, one morning, ordered him a
present of money; this was on the 26th of May, 1417, and the sum is to
be seen among the expenses of Filippo, in the books of the works. All
this was done to render him favorable to their wishes; but, firm to his
resolution, he departed nevertheless from Florence and returned to Rome,
where he continued the unremitting study of the same subject, making
various arrangements and preparing himself for the completion of that
work, being convinced, as was the truth, that no other than himself
could conduct such an undertaking to its conclusion. Nor had Filippo
advised the syndics to call new architects for any other reason, than
was furnished by his desire that those masters should be the witnesses
of his own superior genius: he by no means expected that they could or
would receive the commission for vaulting that tribune, or would
undertake the charge, which he believed to be altogether too difficult
for them. Much time was meanwhile consumed, before the architects, whom
the syndics had caused to be summoned from afar, could arrive from their
different countries. Orders had been given to the Florentine merchants
resident in France, Germany, England, and Spain, who were authorized to
spend large sums of money for the purpose of sending them, and were
commanded to obtain from the sovereigns of each realm the most
experienced and distinguished masters of the respective countries.

"In the year 1420, all these foreign masters were at length assembled in
Florence, with those of Tuscany, and all the best Florentine artists in
design. Filippo likewise then returned from Rome. They all assembled,
therefore, in the hall of the wardens of Santa Maria del Fiore, the
Syndics and Superintendents, together with a select number of the most
capable and ingenious citizens being present, to the end that having
heard the opinion of each on the subject, they might at length decide on
the method to be adopted for vaulting the tribune. Being called into the
audience, the opinions of all were heard one after another, and each
architect declared the method which he had thought of adopting. And a
fine thing it was to hear the strange and various notions then
propounded on that matter: for one said that columns must be raised from
the ground up, and that on these they must turn the arches, whereon the
woodwork for supporting the weight must rest. Others affirmed that the
vault should be turned in cysteolite or sponge-stone (spugna), thereby
to diminish the weight; and several of the masters agreed in the opinion
that a column must be erected in the centre, and the cupola raised in
the form of a pavilion, like that of San Giovanni in Florence. Nay,
there were not wanting those who maintained that it would be a good plan
to fill the space with earth, among which small coins (quatrini) should
be mingled, that when the cupola should be raised, they might then give
permission that whoever should desire the soil might go and fetch it,
when the people would immediately carry it away without expense. Filippo
alone declared that the cupola might be erected without so great a mass
of woodwork, without a column in the centre, and without the mound of
earth; at a much lighter expense than would be caused by so many arches,
and very easily, without any framework whatever.

"Hearing this, the syndics, who were listening in the expectation of
hearing some fine method, felt convinced that Filippo had talked like a
mere simpleton, as did the superintendents, and all the other citizens;
they derided him therefore, laughing at him, and turning away; they bade
him discourse of something else, for that this was the talk of a fool or
madman, as he was. Therefore Filippo, thinking he had cause of offence,
replied, 'But consider, gentlemen, that it is not possible to raise the
cupola in any other manner than this of mine, and although you laugh at
me, yet you will be obliged to admit (if you do not mean to be
obstinate), that it neither must nor can be done in any other manner;
and if it be erected after the method that I propose, it must be turned
in the manner of the pointed arch, and must be double--the one vaulting
within, the other without, in such sort that a passage should be formed
between the two. At the angles of the eight walls, the building must be
strengthened by the dove-tailing of the stones, and in like manner the
walls themselves must be girt around by strong beams of oak. We must
also provide for the lights, the staircases, and the conduits by which
the rain-water may be carried off. And none of you have remembered that
we must prepare supports within, for the execution of the mosaics, with
many other difficult arrangements; but I, who see the cupola raised, I
have reflected on all these things, and I know that there is no other
mode of accomplishing them, than that of which I have spoken.' Becoming
heated as he proceeded, the more Filippo sought to make his views clear
to his hearers, that they might comprehend and agree with him, the more
he awakened their doubts, and the less they confided in him, so that,
instead of giving him their faith, they held him to be a fool and a
babbler. Whereupon, being more than once dismissed, and finally refusing
to go, they caused him to be carried forcibly from the audience by the
servants of the place, considering him to be altogether mad. This
contemptuous treatment caused Filippo at a later period to say, that he
dared not at that time pass through any part of the city, lest some one
should say, 'See, where goes that fool!' The syndics and others forming
the assembly remained confounded, first, by the difficult methods
proposed by the other masters, and next by that of Filippo, which
appeared to them stark nonsense. He appeared to them to render the
enterprise impossible by his two propositions--first, by that of making
the cupola double, whereby the great weight to be sustained would be
rendered altogether unmanageable, and next by the proposal of building
without a framework. Filippo, on the other hand, who had spent so many
years in close study to prepare himself for this work, knew not to what
course to betake himself, and was many times on the point of leaving
Florence. Still, if he desired to conquer, it was necessary to arm
himself with patience, and he had seen enough to know that the heads of
the city seldom remained long fixed to one resolution. He might easily
have shown them a small model which he had secretly made, but he would
not do so, knowing the imperfect intelligence of the syndics, the envy
of the artists, and the instability of the citizens, who favored now one
and now another, as each chanced to please them. And I do not wonder at
this, because every one in Florence professes to know as much of these
matters, as do the most experienced masters, although there are very few
who really understand them; a truth which we may be permitted to affirm
without offence to those who are well informed on the subject. What
Filippo therefore could not effect before the tribunal, he began to
attempt with individuals, and talking apart now with a syndic, now with
a warden, and again with different citizens, showing moreover certain
parts of his design; he thus brought them at length to resolve on
confiding the conduct of this work, either to him or to one of the
foreign architects. Hereupon, the syndics, the wardens, and the
citizens, selected to be judges in the matter, having regained courage,
gathered together once again, and the architects disputed respecting the
matter before them; but all were put down and vanquished on sufficient
grounds by Filippo, and here it is said that the dispute of the egg
arose, in the manner following. The other architects desired that
Filippo should explain his purpose minutely, and show his model, as they
had shown theirs. This he would not do, but proposed to all the masters,
foreigners and compatriots, that he who could make an egg stand upright
on a piece of smooth marble, should be appointed to build the cupola,
since in doing that, his genius would be made manifest. They took an egg
accordingly, and all those masters did their best to make it stand
upright, but none discovered the method of doing so. Wherefore, Filippo,
being told that he might make it stand himself, took it daintily into
his hand, gave the end of it a blow on the plane of the marble, and made
it stand upright.[2] Beholding this, the artists loudly protested,
exclaiming that they could all have done the same; but Filippo replied,
laughing, that they might also know how to construct the cupola, if they
had seen the model and design. It was thus at length resolved that
Filippo should receive the charge of conducting the work, but was told
that he must furnish the syndics and wardens with more exact

"He returned, therefore, to his house, and stated his whole purpose on a
sheet of paper, as clearly as he could possibly express it, when it was
given to the tribunal in the following terms:--'The difficulties of this
erection being well considered, magnificent signors and wardens, I find
that it cannot by any means be constructed in a perfect circle, since
the extent of the upper part, where the lantern has to be placed, would
be so vast, that when a weight was laid thereon, it would soon give way.
Now it appears to me that those architects who do not aim at giving
perpetual duration to their fabrics, cannot have any regard for the
durability of the memorial, nor do they even know what they are doing. I
have therefore determined to turn the inner part of this vault in
angles, according to the form of the walls, adopting the proportions and
manner of the pointed arch, this being a form which displays a rapid
tendency to ascend, and when loaded with the lantern, each part will
help to give stability to the other. The thickness of the vault at the
base must be three braccia and three-quarters; it must then rise in the
form of a pyramid, decreasing from without up to the point where it
closes, and where the lantern has to be placed, and at this junction the
thickness must be one braccia and a quarter. A second vault shall then
be constructed outside the first, to preserve the latter from the rain,
and this must be two braccia and a half thick at the base, also
diminishing proportionally in the form of a pyramid, in such a manner
that the parts shall have their junction at the commencement of the
lantern, as did the other, and at the highest point it must have
two-thirds of the thickness of the base. There must be a buttress at
each angle, which will be eight in all, and between the angles, in the
face of each wall, there shall be two, sixteen in all; and these sixteen
buttresses on the inner and outer side of each wall must each have the
breadth of four braccia at the base. These two vaults, built in the form
of a pyramid, shall rise together in equal proportion to the height of
the round window closed by the lantern. There will thus be constructed
twenty-four buttresses with the said vaults built around, and six strong
high arches of a hard stone (macigno), well clamped and bound with iron
fastenings, which must be covered with tin, and over these stones shall
be cramping irons, by which the vaults shall be bound to the buttresses.
The masonry must be solid, and must leave no vacant space up to the
height of five braccia and a quarter; the buttresses being then
continued, the arches will be separated. The first and second courses
from the base must be strengthened everywhere by long plates of
_macigno_ laid crosswise, in such sort that both vaults of the cupola
shall rest on these stones. Throughout the whole height, at every ninth
braccia there shall be small arches constructed in the vaults between
the buttresses, with strong cramps of oak, whereby the buttresses by
which the inner vault is supported will be bound and strengthened; these
fastenings of oak shall then be covered with plates of iron, on account
of the staircases. The buttresses are all to be built of _macigno_, or
other hard stone, and the walls of the cupola are, in like manner, to be
all of solid stone bound to the buttresses to the height of twenty-four
braccia, and thence upward they shall be constructed of brick or of
spongite (spugne), as shall be determined on by the masters who build
it, they using that which they consider lightest. On the outside, a
passage or gallery shall be made above the windows, which below shall
form a terrace, with an open parapet or balustrade two braccia high,
after the manner of those of the lower tribunes, and forming two
galleries, one over the other, placed on a richly decorated cornice, the
upper gallery being covered. The rain-water shall be carried off the
cupola by means of a marble channel, one third of an ell broad, the
water being discharged at an outlet to be constructed of hard stone
(pietra forte), beneath the channel. Eight ribs of marble shall be
formed on the angles of the external surface of the cupola, of such
thickness as may be requisite; these shall rise to the height of one
braccia above the cupola, with cornices projecting in the manner of a
roof, two braccia broad, that the summit may be complete, and
sufficiently furnished with eaves and channels on every side; and these
must have the form of the pyramid, from their base, or point of
junction, to their extremity. Thus the cupola shall be constructed after
the method described above, and without framework, to the height of
thirty braccia, and from that height upwards, it may be continued after
such manner as shall be determined on by the masters who may have to
build it, since practice teaches us by what methods to proceed.'

"When Filippo had written the above, he repaired in the morning to the
tribunal, and gave his paper to the syndics and wardens, who took the
whole of it into their consideration; and, although they were not able
to understand it all, yet seeing the confidence of Filippo, and finding
that the other architects gave no evidence of having better ground to
proceed on,--he moreover showing a manifest security, by constantly
repeating the same things in such a manner that he had all the
appearance of having vaulted ten cupolas:--the Syndics, seeing all this,
retired apart, and finally resolved to give him the work; they would
have liked to see some example of the manner in which he meant to turn
this vault without framework, but to all the rest they gave their
approbation. And fortune was favorable to this desire: Bartolomeo
Barbadori having determined to build a chapel in Santa Felicita, and
having spoken concerning it with Filippo, the latter had commenced the
work, and caused the chapel, which is on the right of the entrance,
where is also the holy water vase (likewise by the hand of Filippo), to
be vaulted without any framework. At the same time he constructed
another, in like manner, for Stiatta Ridolfi, in the church of Santo
Jacopo sopr' Arno; that, namely, beside the chapel of the High Altar;
and these works obtained him more credit than was given to his words.
The consuls and wardens feeling at length assured, by the writing he had
given them, and by the works which they had seen, entrusted the cupola
to his care, and he was made principal master of the works by a majority
of votes. They would nevertheless not commission him to proceed beyond
the height of twelve braccia, telling him that they desired to see how
the work would succeed, but that if it proceeded as successfully as he
expected, they would not fail to give him the appointment for the
remainder. The sight of so much obstinacy and distrust in the syndics
and wardens was so surprising to Filippo, that if he had not known
himself to be the only person capable of conducting the work, he would
not have laid a hand upon it; but desiring, as he did, to secure the
glory of its completion, he accepted the terms, and pledged himself to
conduct the undertaking perfectly to the end. The writing Filippo had
given was copied into a book wherein the purveyor kept the accounts of
the works in wood and marble, together with the obligation into which
Filippo had entered as above said. An allowance was then made to him,
conformably with what had at other times been given to other masters of
the works.

"When the commission given to Filippo became known to the artists and
citizens, some thought well of it, and others ill, as always is the
case with a matter which calls forth the opinions of the populace, the
thoughtless, and the envious. Whilst the preparation of materials for
beginning to build was making, a party was formed among the artists and
citizens; and these men proceeding to the syndics and wardens, declared
that the matter had been concluded too hastily, and that such a work
ought not to be executed according to the opinion of one man only; they
added, that if the syndics and wardens had been destitute of
distinguished men, instead of being furnished with such in abundance,
they would have been excusable, but that what was now done was not
likely to redound to the honor of the citizens, seeing, that if any
accident should happen, they would incur blame, as persons who had
conferred too great a charge on one man, without considering the losses
and disgrace that might result to the public. All this considered, it
would be well to give Filippo a colleague, who might restrain his
impetuosity (furore).

"Lorenzo Ghiberti had at that time attained to high credit by the
evidence of his genius, which he had given in the doors of San Giovanni;
and that he was much beloved by certain persons who were very powerful
in the government was now proved with sufficient clearness, since,
perceiving the glory of Filippo to increase so greatly, they labored in
such a manner with the syndics and wardens, under the pretext of care
and anxiety for the building, that Ghiberti was united with Filippo in
the work. The bitter vexation of Filippo, the despair into which he
fell, when he heard what the wardens had done, may be understood by the
fact that he was on the point of flying from Florence; and had it not
been that Donato and Luca della Robbia comforted and encouraged him, he
would have gone out of his senses. A truly wicked and cruel rage is that
of those men, who, blinded by envy, endanger the honors and noble works
of others in the base strife of ambition: it was not the fault of these
men that Filippo did not break in pieces the models, set fire to the
designs, and in one half hour destroy all the labors so long endured,
and ruin the hopes of so many years. The wardens excused themselves at
first to Filippo, encouraging him to proceed, reminding him that the
inventor and author of so noble a fabric was still himself, and no
other; but they, nevertheless, gave Lorenzo a stipend equal to that of
Filippo. The work was then continued with but little pleasure on the
part of Filippo, who knew that he must endure all the labors connected
therewith, and would then have to divide the honor and fame equally with
Lorenzo. Taking courage, nevertheless, from the thought that he should
find a method of preventing the latter from remaining very long attached
to that undertaking, he continued to proceed after the manner laid down
in the writing given to the wardens. Meanwhile the thought occurred to
the mind of Filippo of constructing a complete model, which, as yet, had
never been done. This he commenced forthwith, causing the parts to be
made by a certain Bartolomeo, a joiner, who dwelt near his studio. In
this model (the measurements of which were in strict accordance with
those of the building itself, the difference being of size only), all
the difficult parts of the structure were shown as they were to be when
completed; as, for example, staircases lighted and dark, with every
other kind of light, with the buttresses and other inventions for giving
strength to the building, the doors, and even a portion of the gallery.
Lorenzo, having heard of this model, desired to see it, but Filippo
refusing, he became angry, and made preparations for constructing a
model of his own, that he might not appear to be receiving his salary
for nothing, but that he also might seem to count for something in the
matter. For these models Filippo received fifty lire and fifteen soldi,
as we find by an order in the book of Migliore di Tommaso, under date of
the 3d October, 1419, while Lorenzo was paid three hundred lire for the
labor and cost of his model, a difference occasioned by the partiality
and favor shown to him, rather than merited by any utility or benefit
secured to the building by the model which he had constructed.

"This vexatious state of things continued beneath the eyes of Filippo
until the year 1426,[3] the friends of Lorenzo calling him the inventor
of the work, equally with Filippo, and this caused so violent a
commotion in the mind of the latter, that he lived in the utmost
disquietude. Various improvements and new inventions were, besides,
presenting themselves to his thoughts, and he resolved to rid himself of
his colleague at all hazards, knowing of how little use he was to the
work. Filippo had already raised the walls of the cupola to the height
of twelve braccia in both vaults, but the works, whether in wood or
stone, that were to give strength to the fabric, had still to be
executed, and as this was a matter of difficulty, he determined to speak
with Lorenzo respecting it, that he might ascertain whether the latter
had taken it into consideration. But Lorenzo was so far from having
thought of this exigency, and so entirely unprepared for it, that he
replied by declaring that he would refer that to Filippo as the
inventor. The answer of Lorenzo pleased Filippo, who thought he here saw
the means of removing his colleague from the works, and of making it
manifest that he did not possess that degree of knowledge in the matter
that was attributed to him by his friends, and implied in the favor
which had placed him in the situation he held. All the builders were now
engaged in the work, and waited only for directions, to commence the
part above the twelve braccia, to raise the vaults, and render all
secure. The closing in of the cupola towards the top having commenced,
it was necessary to provide the scaffolding, that the masons and
laborers might work without danger, seeing that the height was such as
to make the most steady head turn giddy, and the firmest spirit shrink,
merely to look down from it. The masons and other masters were therefore
waiting in expectation of directions as to the manner in which the
chains were to be applied, and the scaffoldings erected; but, finding
there was nothing determined on either by Lorenzo or Filippo, there
arose a murmur among the masons and other builders, at not seeing the
work pursued with the solicitude previously shown; and as the workmen
were poor persons who lived by the labor of their hands, and who now
believed that neither one nor the other of the architects had courage
enough to proceed further with the undertaking, they went about the
building employing themselves as best they could in looking over and
furbishing up all that had been already executed.

"But one morning, Filippo did not appear at the works: he tied up his
head, went to bed complaining bitterly, and causing plates and towels to
be heated with great haste and anxiety, pretending that he had an attack
of pleurisy. The builders who stood waiting directions to proceed with
their work, on hearing this, demanded orders of Lorenzo for what they
were to do; but he replied that the arrangement of the work belonged to
Filippo, and that they must wait for him. 'How?' said one of them, 'do
you not know what his intentions are?' 'Yes,' replied Lorenzo, 'but I
would not do anything without him.'" This he said by way of excusing
himself; for as he had not seen the model of Filippo, and had never
asked him what method he meant to pursue, that he might not appear
ignorant, so he now felt completely out of his depth, being thus
referred to his own judgment, and the more so as he knew that he was
employed in that undertaking against the will of Filippo. The illness of
the latter having already lasted more than two days, the purveyor of the
works, with many of the master-builders, went to see him, and repeatedly
asked him to tell them what they should do; but he constantly replied,
'You have Lorenzo, let him begin to do something for once.' Nor could
they obtain from him any other reply. When this became known, it caused
much discussion: great blame was thrown upon the undertaking, and many
adverse judgments were uttered. Some said that Filippo had taken to his
bed from grief, at finding that he had not power to accomplish the
erection of the Cupola, and that he was now repenting of having meddled
with the matter; but his friends defended him, declaring that his
vexation might arise from the wrong he had suffered in having Lorenzo
given to him as a colleague, but that his disorder was pleurisy,
brought on by his excessive labors for the work. In the midst of all
this tumult of tongues, the building was suspended, and almost all the
operations of the masons and stone-cutters came to a stand. These men
murmured against Lorenzo, and said, 'He is good enough at drawing the
salary, but when it comes to directing the manner in which we are to
proceed, he does nothing; if Filippo were not here, or if he should
remain long disabled, what can Lorenzo do? and if Filippo be ill, is
that his fault?' The wardens, perceiving the discredit that accrued to
them from this state of things, resolved to make Filippo a visit, and
having reached his house, they first condoled with him on his illness,
told him into what disorder the building had fallen, and described the
troubles which this malady had brought on them. Whereupon Filippo,
speaking with much heat, partly to keep up the feint of illness, but
also in part from his interest in the work, exclaimed, 'What! is not
Lorenzo there? why does not he do something? I cannot but wonder at your
complaints.' To this the wardens replied, 'He will not do anything
without you.' Whereunto Filippo made answer, 'But I could do it well
enough without him.' This acute and doubly significant reply sufficed to
the wardens, and they departed, having convinced themselves that Filippo
was sick of the desire to work alone; they therefore sent certain of his
friends to draw him from his bed, with the intention of removing
Lorenzo from the work. Filippo then returned to the building, but seeing
the power that Lorenzo possessed by means of the favor he enjoyed, and
that he desired to receive the salary without taking any share whatever
in the labor, he bethought himself of another method for disgracing him,
and making it publicly and fully evident that he had very little
knowledge of the matter in hand. He consequently made the following
discourse to the wardens (Operai) Lorenzo being present:--'Signori
Operai, if the time we have to live were as well secured to us as is the
certainty that we may very quickly die, there is no doubt whatever that
many works would be completed, which are now commenced and left
imperfect. The malady with which I have had the misfortune to be
attacked, might have deprived me of life, and put a stop to this work;
wherefore, lest I should again fall sick, or Lorenzo either, which God
forbid, I have considered that it would be better for each to execute
his own portion of the work: as your worships have divided the salary,
let us also divide the labor, to the end that each, being incited to
show what he knows and is capable of performing, may proceed with
confidence, to his own honor and benefit, as well as to that of the
republic. Now there are two difficult operations which must at this time
be put into course of execution--the one is the erection of scaffoldings
for enabling the builders to work in safety, and which must be prepared
both for the inside and outside of the fabric, where they will be
required to sustain the weight of the men, the stones and the mortar,
with space also for the crane to draw up the different materials, and
for other machines and tools of various kinds. The other difficulty is
the chain-work, which has to be constructed upon the twelve braccia
already erected, this being requisite to bind and secure the eight sides
of the cupola, and which must surround the fabric, enchaining the whole,
in such a manner that the weight which has hereafter to be laid on it
shall press equally on all sides, the parts mutually supporting each
other, so that no part of the edifice shall be too heavily pressed on or
overweighed, but that all shall rest firmly on its own basis. Let
Lorenzo then take one of these works, whichever he may think he can most
easily execute; I will take the other, and answer for bringing it to a
successful issue, that we may lose no more time.' Lorenzo having heard
this, was compelled, for the sake of his honor, to accept one or other
of these undertakings; and although he did it very unwillingly, he
resolved to take the chain work, thinking that he might rely on the
counsels of the builders, and remembering also that there was a
chain-work of stone in the vaulting of San Giovanni di Fiorenza, from
which he might take a part, if not the whole, of the arrangement. One
took the scaffolds in hand accordingly, and the other the chain-work, so
that both were put in progress. The scaffolds of Filippo were
constructed with so much ingenuity and judgment, that in this matter
the very contrary of what many had before expected was seen to have
happened, since the builders worked thereon with as much security as
they would have done on the ground beneath, drawing up all the requisite
weights and standing themselves in perfect safety. The models of these
scaffolds were deposited in the hall of the wardens. Lorenzo executed
the chain-work on one of the eight walls with the utmost difficulty, and
when it was finished the wardens caused Filippo to look at it. He said
nothing to them, but with some of his friends he held discourse on the
subject, declaring that the building required a very different work of
ligature and security to that one, laid in a manner altogether unlike
the method there adopted; for that this would not suffice to support the
weight which was to be laid on it, the pressure not being of sufficient
strength and firmness. He added that the sums paid to Lorenzo, with the
chain-work which he had caused to be constructed, were so much labor,
time, and money thrown away. The remarks of Filippo became known, and he
was called upon to show the manner that ought to be adopted for the
construction of such a chain-work; wherefore, having already prepared
his designs and models, he exhibited them immediately, and they were no
sooner examined by the wardens and other masters, than they perceived
the error into which they had fallen by favoring Lorenzo. For this they
now resolved to make amends; and desiring to prove that they were
capable of distinguishing merit, they made Filippo chief and
superintendent of the whole fabric for life, commanding that nothing
should be done in the work but as he should direct. As a further mark of
approbation, they presented him moreover with a hundred florins, ordered
by the syndics and wardens, under date of August 13, 1423, through
Lorenzo Paoli, notary of the administration of the works, and signed by
Gherardo di Messer Filippo Corsini: they also voted him an allowance of
one hundred florins for life. Whereupon, having taken measures for the
future progress of the fabric, Filippo conducted the works with so much
solicitude and such minute attention, that there was not a stone placed
in the building which he had not examined. Lorenzo on the other hand,
finding himself vanquished and in a manner disgraced, was nevertheless
so powerfully assisted and favored by his friends, that he continued to
receive his salary, under the pretext that he could not be dismissed
until the expiration of three years from that time.[4]

"Drawings and models were meanwhile continually prepared by Filippo for
the most minute portions of the building, for the stages or scaffolds
for the workmen, and for the machines used in raising the materials.
There were nevertheless several malicious persons, friends of Lorenzo,
who did not cease to torment him by daily bringing forward models in
rivalry of those constructed by him, insomuch that one was made by
Maestro Antonio da Verzelli, and other masters who were favored and
brought into notice--now by one citizen and now by another, their
fickleness and mutability betraying the insufficiency of their knowledge
and the weakness of their judgment, since having perfection within their
reach, they perpetually brought forward the imperfect and useless.

"The chain-work was now completed around all the eight sides, and the
builders, animated by success, worked vigorously; but being pressed more
than usual by Filippo, and having received certain reprimands concerning
the masonry and in relation to other matters of daily occurrence,
discontents began to prevail. Moved by this circumstance and by their
envy, the chiefs among them drew together and got up a faction,
declaring that the work was a laborious and perilous undertaking, and
that they would not proceed with the vaulting of the cupola, but on
condition of receiving large payments, although their wages had already
been increased and were much higher than was usual: by these means they
hoped to injure Filippo and increase their own gains. This circumstance
displeased the wardens greatly, as it did Filippo also; but the latter,
having reflected on the matter, took his resolution, and one Saturday
evening he dismissed them all. The men seeing themselves thus sent about
their business, and not knowing how the affair would turn, were very
sullen; but on the following Monday Filippo set ten Lombards to work at
the building, and by remaining constantly present with them, and saying,
'do this here' and 'do that there,' he taught them so much in one day
that they were able to continue the work during many weeks. The masons,
seeing themselves thus disgraced as well as deprived of their
employment, and knowing that they would find no work equally profitable,
sent messengers to Filippo, declaring that they would willingly return,
and recommending themselves to his consideration. Filippo kept them for
several days in suspense, and seemed not inclined to admit them again;
they were afterwards reinstated, but with lower wages than they had
received at first: thus where they had thought to make gain they
suffered loss, and by seeking to revenge themselves on Filippo, they
brought injury and shame on their own heads.

"The tongues of the envious were now silenced, and when the building was
seen to proceed so happily, the genius of Filippo obtained its due
consideration; and, by all who judged dispassionately, he was already
held to have shown a boldness which has, perhaps, never before been
displayed in their works, by any architect, ancient or modern. This
opinion was confirmed by the fact that Filippo now brought out his
model, in which all might see the extraordinary amount of thought
bestowed on every detail of the building. The varied invention displayed
in the staircases, in the provision of lights, both within and without,
so that none might strike or injure themselves in the darkness, were all
made manifest, with the careful consideration evinced by the different
supports of iron which were placed to assist the footsteps wherever the
ascent was steep. In addition to all this, Filippo had even thought of
the irons for fixing scaffolds within the cupola, if ever they should be
required for the execution of mosaics or pictures; he had selected the
least dangerous positions for the places of the conduits, to be
afterwards constructed for carrying off the rain water, had shown where
these were to be covered and where uncovered; and had moreover contrived
different outlets and apertures, whereby the force of the winds should
be diminished, to the end that neither vapors nor the vibrations of the
earth, should have power to do injury to the building: all which proved
the extent to which he had profited by his studies, during the many
years of his residence in Rome. When in addition to these things, the
superintendents considered how much he had accomplished in the shaping,
fixing, uniting, and securing the stones of this immense pile, they were
almost awe-struck on perceiving that the mind of one man had been
capable of all that Filippo had now proved himself able to perform. His
powers and facilities continually increased, and that to such an extent,
that there was no operation, however difficult and complex, which he did
not render easy and simple; of this he gave proof in one instance among
others, by the employment of wheels and counterpoises to raise heavy
weights, so that one ox could draw more than six pairs could have moved
by the ordinary methods. The building had now reached such a height,
that when a man had once arrived at the summit, it was a very great
labor to descend to the ground, and the workmen lost much time in going
to their meals, and to drink; arrangements were therefore made by
Filippo, for opening wine-shops and eating-houses in the cupola; where
the required food being sold, none were compelled to leave their labor
until the evening, which was a relief and convenience to the men, as
well as a very important advantage to the work. Perceiving the building
to proceed rapidly, and finding all his undertakings happily successful,
the zeal and confidence of Filippo increased, and he labored
perpetually; he went himself to the ovens where the bricks were made,
examined the clay, proved the quality of the working, and when they were
baked he would select and set them apart, with his own hands. In like
manner, while the stones were under the hands of the stone-cutters, he
would look narrowly to see that they were hard and free from clefts; he
supplied the stone-cutters with models in wood or wax, or hastily cut on
the spot from turnips, to direct them in the shaping and junction of the
different masses; he did the same for the men who prepared the iron
work; Filippo likewise invented hook hinges, with the mode of fixing
them to the door-posts, and greatly facilitated the practice of
architecture, which was certainly brought by his labors to a perfection
that it would else perhaps never have attained among the Tuscans.

"In the year 1423, when the utmost rejoicing and festivity was
prevailing in Florence, Filippo was chosen one of the _Signori_ for the
district of San Giovanni, for the months of May and June; Lapo Niccolini
being chosen Gonfalonier for the district of Santa Croce: and if Filippo
be found registered in the Priorista as 'di Ser Brunellesce Lippi,' this
need not occasion surprise, since they called him so after his
grandfather, Lippo, instead of 'di Lapi,' as they ought to have done.
And this practice is seen to prevail in the Priorista, with respect to
many others, as is well known to all who have examined it, or who are
acquainted with the custom of those times. Filippo performed his
functions carefully in that office; and in others connected with the
magistracy of the city, to which he was subsequently appointed, he
constantly acquitted himself with the most judicious consideration.

"The two vaults of the cupola were now approaching their close, at the
circular window where the lantern was to begin, and there now remained
to Filippo, who had made various models in wood and clay, both of the
one and the other, in Rome and Florence, to decide finally as to which
of these he would put in execution, wherefore he resolved to complete
the gallery, and accordingly made different plans for it, which remained
in the hall of wardens after his death, but which by the neglect of
those officials have since been lost. But it was not until our own days
that even a fragment was executed on a part of one of the eight sides
(to the end that the building might be completed); but as it was not in
accordance with the plan of Filippo, it was removed by the advice of
Michael Angelo Buonarotti, and was not again attempted.

"Filippo also constructed a model for the lantern, with his own hand; it
had eight sides, the proportions were in harmony with those of the
cupola, and for the invention as well as variety and decoration, it was
certainly very beautiful. He did not omit the staircase for ascending to
the ball, which was an admirable thing; but as he had closed the
entrance with a morsel of wood fixed at the lower part, no one but
himself knew its position. Filippo was now highly renowned, but
notwithstanding this, and although he had already overcome the envy and
abated the arrogance of so many opponents, he could not yet escape the
vexation of finding that all the masters of Florence, when his model had
been seen, were setting themselves to make others in various manners;
nay, there was even a lady of the Gaddi family, who ventured to place
her knowledge in competition with that of Filippo. The latter,
meanwhile, could not refrain from laughing at the presumption of these
people, and when he was told by certain of his friends that he ought not
to show his model to any artist lest they should learn from it, he
replied that there was but one true model, and that the others were good
for nothing. Some of the other masters had used parts of Filippo's model
for their own, which, when the latter perceived, he remarked, 'The next
model made by this personage will be mine altogether.' The work of
Filippo was very highly praised, with the exception, that, not
perceiving the staircase by which the ball was to be attained, the model
was considered defective on that point. The superintendents determined,
nevertheless, to give him the commission for the work, but on condition
that he should show the staircase;[5] whereupon Filippo, removing the
morsel of wood which he had placed at the foot of the stair, showed it
constructed as it is now seen, within one of the piers, and presenting
the form of a hollow reed or blow-pipe, having a recess or groove on one
side, with bars of bronze, by means of which the summit was gradually
attained. Filippo was now at an age which rendered it impossible that he
should live to see the lantern completed; he therefore left directions,
by his will, that it should be built after the model here described, and
according to the rules which he had laid down in writing, affirming that
the fabric would otherwise be in danger of falling, since, being
constructed with the pointed arch, it required to be rendered secure by
means of the pressure of the weight to be thus added. But, though
Filippo could not complete the edifice before his death, he raised the
lantern to the height of several braccia, causing almost all the marbles
required for the completion of the building to be carefully prepared
and brought to the place. At the sight of these huge masses as they
arrived, the people stood amazed, marvelling that it should be possible
for Filippo to propose the laying of such a weight on the cupola. It
was, indeed, the opinion of many intelligent men that it could not
possibly support that weight. It appeared to them to be a piece of good
fortune that he had conducted it so far, and they considered the loading
it so heavy to be a tempting of Providence. Filippo constantly laughed
at these fears, and having prepared all the machines and instruments
required for the construction of the edifice, he ceased not to employ
all his time in taking thought for its future requirements, providing
and preparing all the minutiæ, even to guarding against the danger of
the marbles being chipped as they were drawn up: to which intent the
arches of the tabernacles were built within defences of woodwork; and
for all beside the master gave models and written directions, as we have

"How beautiful this building is, it will itself bear testimony. With
respect to the height, from the level ground to the commencement of the
lantern, there are one hundred and fifty-four braccia;[6] the body of
the lanthorn is thirty-six braccia high; the copper ball four braccia;
the cross eight braccia; in all two hundred and two braccia. And it may
be confidently affirmed that the ancients never carried their buildings
to so vast a height, nor committed themselves to so great a risk as to
dare a competition with the heavens, which this structure verily appears
to do, seeing that it rears itself to such an elevation that the hills
around Florence do not appear to equal it. And of a truth it might seem
that the heavens were envious of its height, since their lightnings
perpetually strike it. While this work was in progress, Filippo
constructed many other fabrics."


One morning, as Brunelleschi was amusing himself on the Piazza di Santa
Maria del Fiore, in company with Donatello and other artists, the
conversation happened to turn on ancient sculpture. Donatello related
that when he was returning from Rome, he had taken the road of Orvieto,
to see the remarkable façade of the Cathedral of that city--a highly
celebrated work, executed by various masters, and considered in those
days a very remarkable production. He added that as he was passing
through Cortona, he had seen in the capitular church of that city a most
beautiful antique marble vase, adorned with sculpture--a rare thing at
that time, as most of the beautiful works of antiquity have since been
brought to light. As Donatello proceeded to describe the manner in which
the artist had treated this work, the delicacy, beauty, and perfection
of the workmanship, Filippo became inflamed with such an ardent desire
to see it, that he set off immediately, on foot, to Cortona, dressed as
he was in his mantle, hood, and wooden shoes, without communicating his
purpose to any one. Finding that Donatello had not been too lavish of
his praise, he drew the vase, returned to Florence, and surprised his
friends with the accurate drawing he had made, before they knew of his
departure, they believing that he must be occupied with his inventions.
This urn, or funeral vase, according to the Florentine editors of
Vasari, is still in the Cathedral of Cortona. The sculptures represent
the Battle of the Centaurs and Lapithæ, or as some say, a Warlike
Expedition of Bacchus. The design and workmanship are exquisite. It was
found in a field without the city, and almost close to the Cathedral.


"Among other works," says Vasari, "Donato received an order for a
crucifix in wood, for the church of Santa Croce at Florence, on which he
bestowed extraordinary labor. When the work was completed, believing
himself to have produced an admirable thing, he showed it to Filippo di
Ser Brunellesco, his most intimate friend, desiring to have his opinion
of it. Filippo, who had expected from the words of Donato, to see a much
finer production, smiled somewhat as he regarded it, and Donato seeing
this, entreated him by the friendship existing between them, to say what
he thought of it. Whereupon Filippo, who was exceedingly frank, replied
that Donatello appeared to him to have placed a clown on the cross, and
not a figure resembling that of Jesus Christ, whose person was
delicately beautiful, and in all parts the most perfect form of man that
had ever been born. Donato hearing himself censured where he had
expected praise, and more hurt than he was perhaps willing to admit,
replied, 'If it were as easy to execute a work as to judge it, my figure
would appear to thee to be Christ and not a boor; but take wood, and try
to make one thyself.' Filippo, without saying anything more, returned
home, and set to work on a crucifix, wherein he labored to surpass
Donato, that he might not be condemned by his own judgment; but he
suffered no one to know what he was doing. At the end of some months,
the work was completed to the height of perfection, and this done,
Filippo one morning invited Donato to dine with him, and the latter
accepted the invitation. Thereupon, as they were proceeding together
towards the house of Filippo, they passed by the Mercato Vecchio, where
the latter purchased various articles, and giving them to Donato, said,
'Do thou go forward with these things to the house, and wait for me
there; I'll be after thee in a moment.' Donato, therefore, having
entered the house, had no sooner done so than he saw the crucifix, which
Filippo had placed in a suitable light. Stopping short to examine the
work, he found it so perfectly executed, that feeling himself conquered,
full of astonishment, and, as it were startled out of himself, he
dropped the hands which were holding up his apron, wherein he had placed
the purchases, when the whole fell to the ground, eggs, cheese, and
other things, all broken to pieces and mingled together. But Donato, not
recovering from his astonishment, remained still gazing in amazement and
like one out of his wits when Filippo arrived, and inquired, laughing,
'What hast thou been about, Donato? and what dost thou mean us to have
for dinner, since thou hast overturned everything?' 'I, for my part,'
replied Donato, 'have had my share of dinner for to-day; if thou must
needs have thine, take it. But enough said: to thee it has been given to
represent Christ; to me, boors only.'" This crucifix now adorns the
altar of the chapel of the Gondi.


This old Florentine sculptor was born in 1383. He was the first of the
moderns who forsook the stiff and gothic manner, and endeavored to
restore to sculpture the grace and beauty of the antique. He executed a
multitude of works in wood, marble and bronze, consisting of images,
statues, busts, basso-relievos, monuments, equestrian statues, etc.
which gained him great reputation, and some of which are much esteemed
at the present day. He was much patronized by Cosmo de' Medici, and his
son Pietro.

Among Donatello's principal works, are three statues, each three braccia
and a half high, (Vasari erroneously says four, and each five braccia
high), for the façade of the church of Santa Maria del Fiore, which
faces the Campanile. They represent St. John; David, called Lo Zuccone
(so called, because bald-headed); and Solomon, or as some say, the
prophet Jeremiah. The Zuccone is considered the most extraordinary and
the most beautiful work ever produced by Donatello, who, while working
on it, was so delighted with his success, that he frequently exclaimed,
"Speak then! why wilt thou not speak?" Whenever he wished to affirm a
thing in a manner that should preclude all doubt, he would say, "By the
faith I place in my Zuccone."


A rich Genoese merchant commissioned Donatello to execute his bust in
bronze, of life size. When the work was completed, it was pronounced a
capital performance, and Cosmo de' Medici, who was the friend of both
parties, caused it to be placed in the upper court of the palace,
between the battlements which overlook the street, that it might be seen
by the citizens. When the merchant, unacquainted with the value of such
works, came to pay for it, the price demanded appeared to him so
exorbitant that he refused to take it, whereupon the mutter was referred
to Cosmo. When the latter sought to settle the difference, he found the
offer of the merchant to be very far from the just demand of Donatello,
and turning towards him, observed that he offered too small
compensation. The merchant replied that Donatello could have made it in
a month, and would thus be gaining half a florin a day (about one
dollar). Donatello, disgusted and stung with rage, told the merchant
that he had found means in the hundredth part of an hour to destroy the
whole labor and cures of a year, and knocked the bust out of the window,
which was dashed to pieces on the pavement below, observing, at the same
time, that "it was evident he was better versed in bargaining for
horse-beans than in purchasing statues." The merchant now ashamed of his
conduct, and regretting what had happened, offered him double his price
if he would reconstruct the bust,--but Donatello, though poor, flatly
refused to do it on any terms, even at the request of Cosmo himself.


When Donatello was very sick, certain of his kinsfolk, who were well to
do in the world, but had not visited him in many years, went to condole
with him in his last illness. Before they left, they told him it was
his duty to leave to them a small farm which he had in the territories
of Prato, and this they begged very earnestly, though it was small and
produced a very small income. Donatello, perceiving the motive of their
visit, thus rebuked them: "I cannot content you in this matter, kinsmen,
because I resolve--and it appears to me just and proper--to leave the
farm to the poor husbandman who has always tilled it, and who has
bestowed great labor on it; not to you, who without ever having done
anything for it, or for me, but only thought of obtaining it, now come
with this visit of yours, desiring that I should leave it to you. Go!
and the Lord be with you."


Donatello died on the 13th of December, 1466. He was buried with great
pomp and solemnity in the church of San Lorenzo, near the tomb of Cosmo,
as he himself had commanded (for he had purchased the right), "to the
end," as he said, "that his body might be near him when dead, as his
spirit had ever been near him when in life." Bottari observes that
another reason for his choice of San Lorenzo, may have been that many of
his works were in that church.


"I will not omit to mention," says Vasari, "that the most learned and
very reverend Don Vincenzio Borghini, of whom we have before spoken in
relation to other matters, has collected into a large book, innumerable
drawings of distinguished painters and sculptors, ancient as well as
modern, and among these are two drawings on two leaves opposite to each
other, one of which is by Donato, and the other by Michael Angelo
Buonarroti. On these he has with much judgment inscribed the two Greek
mottos which follow; on the drawing of Donato, "[Greek: Ê Donatos
Bonarrotixei]," and on that of Michael Angelo, "[Greek: Ê Bonarrotos
Donatixei]," which in Latin ran thus: _Aut Donatus Bonarrotom exprimit et
refert, aut Bonarrotus Donatum_; and in our language they mean, 'Either
the spirit of Donato worked in Buonarroti, or that of Buonarroti first
acted in Donato.'"


This noble lady of Cremona (born about 1530), was one of six sisters,
all amiable, and much distinguished in arts and letters. She displayed a
taste for drawing at a very early age, and soon became the best pupil in
the school of Antonio Campi. One of her early sketches, of a boy caught
with his hand in the claw of a lobster, with a little girl laughing at
his plight, was in possession of Vasari, and by him esteemed worthy of a
place in a volume which he had filled with drawings by the most famous
masters of that great age. Portraiture was her chief study; and Vasari
commends a picture which he saw at her father's house, of three of the
sisters, and an ancient housekeeper of the family playing at chess, as a
work "painted with so much skill and care, that the figures wanted only
voice to appear alive." He also praises a portrait which she painted of
herself, and presented to Pope Julius III., who died in 1555, which
shows that she must have attracted the notice of princes while yet in
her girlhood. At Milan, whither she accompanied her father, she painted
the portrait of the Duke of Sessa, the Viceroy, who rewarded her with
four pieces of brocade and various rich gifts.


Her name having become famous in Italy, in 1559, the King of Spain
ordered the Duke of Alba, who was then at Rome, to invite her to the
court of Madrid. She arrived there in the same year, and was received
with great distinction, and lodged in the palace. Her first work was the
portrait of the king, who was so much pleased with the performance that
he rewarded her with a diamond worth 1500 ducats, and settled upon her a
pension of 200 ducats. Her next sitters were the young queen Elizabeth
of Valois, known in Spain as Isabel of the Peace, then in the bloom of
bridal beauty, and the unhappy boy, Don Carlos. By the desire of Pope
Pius IV., she made a second portrait of the Queen, sent to his Holiness
with a dutiful letter, which Vasari has preserved, as well as the
gracious reply of the pontiff, who assures her that her painting shall
be placed among his most precious treasures. Sofonisba held the post of
lady-in-waiting to the queen, and was for some time governess to her
daughter, the Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia,--an appointment which
proves that she must have resided in Spain for some time after 1566, the
year of that princess' birth.


Her royal patrons at last married their fair artist, now arrived to a
mature age, to Don Fabrizio de Moncada, a noble Sicilian, giving her a
dowry of 12,000 ducats and a pension of 1,000, besides many rich
presents in tapestries and jewels. The newly wedded pair retired to
Palermo, where the husband died some years after. Sofonisba was then
invited back to the court of Madrid, but excused herself on account of
her desire to see Cremona and her kindred once more. Embarking for this
purpose on board of a Genoese galley, she was entertained with such
gallant courtesy by the captain, Orazio Lomellini, one of the merchant
princes of the "city of Palaces," that she fell in love with him, and,
according to Soprani, offered him her hand in marriage, which he
accepted. On hearing of her second nuptials, their Catholic Majesties
added 400 crowns to her pension.


After her second marriage, Sofonisba continued to pursue the art at
Genoa, where her house became the resort of all the polished and
intellectual society of the Republic. The Empress of Germany paid her a
visit on her way to Spain, and accepted a little picture,--one of the
most finished and beautiful of her works. She was also visited by her
former charge, the Infanta, then the wife of the Archduke Albert, and
with him co-sovereign of Flanders. That princess spent many hours in
conversing with her of by-gone days and family affairs; she also sat for
her portrait, and presented Sofonisba with a gold chain enriched with
jewels, as a memorial of their friendship. Thus courted in the society
of Genoa, and caressed by royalty, this eminent paintress lived to the
extreme age of ninety-three years. A medal was struck in her honor at
Bologna; artists listened reverentially to her opinions; and poets sang
her praises. Though deprived of sight in her latter years, she retained
to the last her other faculties, her love of art, and her relish for the
society of its professors. Vandyck was frequently her guest during his
residence at Genoa, in 1621; and he used to say of her that he had
learned more of the practical principles of the art from a blind woman,
than by studying all the works of the best Italian masters.


This celebrated Italian paintress was born at Chiozza, near Venice, in
1675. She acquired an immense reputation, and was invited to several of
the courts of Europe. Few artists have equalled Rosalba in crayon


Notwithstanding she received so many flattering marks of distinction
from crowned heads, Rosalba's native modesty never deserted her, and she
seemed to esteem her works less than did many of her admirers, because
she was sensible how far she fell short of her idea of perfection.
"Everything I do," said she, "seems good enough to me just after I have
done it, and perhaps for a few hours afterwards, but then I begin to
discover my imperfections!" Thus it is with true merit; those who are
superficial or pretending can never find out, or never will acknowledge
their own faults.


Rosalba used to say, "I have so long been accustomed to study features,
and the expression of the mind by them, that I know people's tempers by
their faces." She frequently surprised her friends by the accuracy of
character which she read in the faces of persons who were entire
strangers to her.


Elizabeth Sirani was born at Bologna in 1638. She early exhibited the
most extraordinary talent for painting, which was perfectly cultivated
by her father, Gio. Andrea Sirani, an excellent disciple and imitator of
Guido. She attached herself to an imitation of the best style of Guido,
which unites great relief with the most captivating amenity. Her first
public work appeared in 1655, when she was seventeen years of age. It is
almost incredible that in a short life of not more than twenty-six or
twenty-seven years, she could have executed the long list of works
enumerated by Malvasia, copied from a register kept by herself,
amounting to upwards of one hundred and fifty pictures and portraits;
and our astonishment is increased, when we are told by the same author,
that many of them are pictures and altar-pieces of large size, and
finished with a care that excludes all appearance of negligence and
haste. There are quite a number of her works in the churches of Bologna.
Lanzi also speaks of her in terms of high commendation, and says, that
"in her smaller works, painted by commission, she still improved
herself, as may be seen by her numerous pictures of Madonnas, Magdalens,
saints, and the infant Saviour, found in the Zampieri, Zambeccari, and
Caprara palaces at Bologna, and in the Corsini and Bolognetti
collections at Rome." She received many commissions from many of the
sovereigns and most distinguished persons of Europe. She had two
sisters, Anna and Barbara, whom, according to Crespi, she instructed in
the art, and who possessed considerable talent. Her fame was so great,
that after her death not only the works of her sisters, but many of
those of her father, were attributed to her. Lanzi says, "She is nearly
the sole individual of the family whose name occurs in collections out
of Bologna." She also executed some spirited etchings mostly from her
own designs.


This accomplished, amiable, and talented lady was cut off in the flower
of her life, August 29th, 1665, by poison, administered by one of her
own maids, instigated, as is supposed, by some jealous young artists.
Her melancholy death was bewailed with demonstrations of public sorrow,
and her remains were interred with great pomp and solemnity in the
church of S. Domenico, in the same vault where reposed the ashes of


This celebrated paintress of fruit and flowers was born at Amsterdam in
1664. She was the daughter of Frederick Ruisch or Ruysch, the celebrated
professor of anatomy. She early showed an extraordinary taste for
depicting fruit and flowers, and attained to such perfection in her
art, that some have not hesitated to equal and even prefer her works to
those of John van Huysum. She grouped her flowers in the most tasteful
and picturesque manner, and depicted them with a grace and brilliancy
that rivalled nature. Descamps says that "in her pictures of fruit and
flowers, she surpassed nature herself." The extraordinary talents of
this lady recommended her to the patronage of the Elector Palatine--a
great admirer of her pictures--for whom she executed some of her
choicest works, and received for them a munificent reward. Though she
exercised her talents to an advanced age, her works are exceedingly
rare, so great was the labor bestowed upon them. She spent seven years
in painting two pictures, a fruit and a flower piece, which she
presented to one of her daughters as a marriage portion. She married
Jurian Pool, an eminent portrait painter, by whom she had ten children;
she is frequently called by his name, though she always signed her
pictures with her maiden name. Smith, in his Catalogue raisonné, vols.
vi. and ix., gives a description of only about thirty pieces by her--a
proof of their extreme rarity. They now command very high prices when
offered for sale, which rarely happens. She died in 1760, aged 86 years.


This eminent Flemish painter was born at Antwerp in 1599. His father
early gave him instruction in drawing; he was also instructed by his
mother, who painted landscapes, and was very skillful in embroidery. He
studied afterwards under Henry van Balen, and made rapid progress in the
art; but attracted by the fame of Rubens, he entered the school of that
master, and showed so much ability as to be soon entrusted with the
execution of some of his instructor's designs. Some writers, among whom
D'Argenville was the first, assert that Rubens became jealous of
Vandyck's growing excellence, and therefore advised him to devote
himself to portrait painting; assigning the following anecdote as the
cause of his jealousy. During the short absences of Rubens from his
house, for the purpose of recreation, his disciples frequently obtained
access to his studio, by means of bribing an old servant who kept the
keys; and on one of these occasions, while they were all eagerly
pressing forward to view the great picture of the Descent from the Cross
(although later investigations concerning dates seem to indicate that it
was some other picture), Diepenbeck accidentally fell against the
canvas, effacing the face of the Virgin, and the Magdalen's arm, which
had just been finished, and were not yet dry. Fearful of expulsion from
the school, the terrified pupils chose Vandyck to restore the work, and
he completed it the same day with such success that Rubens did not at
first perceive the change, and afterwards concluded not to alter it.
Walpole entertains a different and more rational view respecting
Rubens' supposed jealousy: he thinks that Vandyck felt the hopelessness
of surpassing his master in historical painting, and therefore resolved
to devote himself to portrait. One authority states that the above
mentioned incident only increased Rubens' esteem for his pupil, in
perfect accordance with the distinguished character for generosity and
liberality, which that great master so often evinced, and which forms
very strong presumptive evidence against so base an accusation. Besides,
his advice to Vandyck to visit Italy--where his own powers had been, as
his pupil's would be, greatly strengthened--may be considered as
sufficient to refute it entirely. They appear to have parted on the best
terms; Vandyck presented Rubens with an Ecce Homo, Christ in the Garden,
and a portrait of Helen Forman, Rubens' second wife; he was presented in
return, by Rubens, with one of his finest horses.


At the age of twenty, Vandyck set out for Italy, but delayed some time
at Brussels, fascinated by the charms of a peasant girl of Saveltheim,
named Anna van Ophem, who persuaded him to paint two pictures for the
church of her native place--a St. Martin on horseback, painted from
himself and the horse given him by Rubens; and a Holy Family, for which
the girl and her parents were the models. On arriving in Italy, he
spent some time at Venice, studying with great attention the works of
Titian; after which he visited Genoa, and painted many excellent
portraits for the nobility, as well as several pictures for the churches
and private collections, which gained him great applause. From Genoa he
went to Rome, where he was also much employed, and lived in great style.
His portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, painted about this time, is one of
his masterpieces, and in every respect an admirable picture; it is now
in the Palazzo Pitti, at Florence, hanging near Raffaelle's celebrated
portrait of Leo X. Vandyck was known at Rome as the _Pittore
Cavalieresco_; his countrymen there being men of low and intemperate
habits, he avoided their society, and was thenceforward so greatly
annoyed by their criticisms and revilings, that he was obliged to leave
Rome about 1625, and return to Genoa, where he met with a flattering
reception, and plentiful encouragement. Invited to Palermo, he visited
that city, and painted the portraits of Prince Philibert of Savoy, the
Viceroy of Sicily, and several distinguished persons, among whom was the
celebrated paintress Sofonisba Anguisciola, then in her 92d year; but
the plague breaking out, he returned to Genoa, and thence to his own


On his return to Antwerp, whither his reputation had preceded him,
Vandyck was speedily employed by various religious societies, and his
picture of St. Augustine for the church of the Augustines in that city,
established his reputation among the first painters of his time. He
painted other historical pictures, for the principal public edifices at
Antwerp, Brussels, Mechlin, and Ghent; but acquired greater fame by his
portraits, particularly his well known series of the eminent artists of
his time, which were engraved by Vorstermans, Pontius, Bolswert, and
others. His brilliant reputation at length roused the jealousy of his
cotemporaries, many of whom were indefatigable in their intrigues to
calumniate his works. In addition to these annoyances, the conduct of
the canons of the Collegiate church of Courtray, for whom he painted an
admirable picture of the Elevation of the Cross, proved too much for his
endurance. After he had exerted all his powers to produce a masterpiece
of art, the canons, upon viewing the picture, pronounced it a
contemptible performance, and the artist a miserable dauber; and Vandyck
could hardly obtain payment for his work. When the picture had received
high commendation from good judges, they became sensible of their error,
and requested him to execute two more works; but the indignant artist
refused the commission. Disgusted with such treatment, Vandyck readily
accepted an invitation to visit the Hague, from Frederick, Prince of
Orange, whose portrait he painted, and those of his family, the
principal personages of his court, and the foreign ambassadors.


Hearing of the great encouragement extended to the arts by Charles I.,
he determined to visit England in 1629. While there, he lodged with his
friend and countryman, George Geldorp the painter, and expected to be
presented to the king; but his hopes not being realized, he visited
Paris; and meeting no better success there, be returned to his own
country, with the intention of remaining there during the rest of his
life. Charles, however, having seen a portrait by Vandyck, of the
musician, Fic. Laniere, director of the music of the king's chapel,
requested Sir Kenelm Digby to invite him to return to England.
Accordingly, in 1631, he arrived a second time at London, and was
received by the king in a flattering manner. He was lodged at
Blackfriars, among the King's artists, where his majesty frequently went
to sit for his portrait, as well as to enjoy the society of the painter.
The honor of knighthood was conferred upon him in 1632, and the
following year he was appointed painter to the king, with an annuity of

Prosperity now flowed in upon the Fleming in abundance, and although he
operated with the greatest industry and facility, painting single
portraits in one day, he could hardly fulfill all his commissions.
Naturally fond of display, he kept a splendid establishment, and his
sumptuous table was frequented by persons of the highest distinction.
He often detained his sitters to dinner, where he had an opportunity to
observe more of their peculiar characteristics, and retouched their
pictures in the afternoon. Notwithstanding his distinguished success, he
does not appear to have been satisfied with eminence in portrait
painting; and not long after his marriage with Maria Ruthven,
granddaughter of Lord Gowrie, he went to Antwerp with his lady, on a
visit to his family and friends, and thence proceeded to Paris. The fame
which Rubens had acquired by his celebrated performances at the
Luxembourg, rendered Vandyck desirous to execute the decorations at the
Louvre; but on arriving at the French capital, he found the commission
disposed of to Nicholas Poussin. He soon returned to England, and being
still desirous of executing some great work, proposed to the king
through Sir Kenelm Digby, to decorate the walls of the Banqueting House
(of which the ceiling was already adorned by Rubens), with the History
and Progress of the Order of the Garter. The sum demanded was £8000, and
while the king was treating with him for a less amount, the project was
terminated by the death of Vandyck, December 9th, 1641, aged 42 years.
He was buried with extraordinary honors in St. Paul's cathedral. His
high living had brought on the gout during his latter years, and luxury
had considerably reduced his fortune, which he endeavored to repair by
the study of alchemy. He left property amounting to about £20,000. In
his private character, Vandyck was universally esteemed for the urbanity
of his manners, and his generous patronage to all who excelled in any
science or art, many of whose portraits he painted gratuitously.


This eminent Dutch marine painter was born at Leyden, in 1610. He drew
everything after nature, and was one of the most correct, spirited, and
admirable designers of marine subjects. He made an incredible number of
drawings on paper, heightened with India ink, all of them sketched from
nature with uncommon elegance and fidelity. His talents recommended him
to the notice of the States of Holland, and Descamps says they furnished
him with a small vessel to accompany their fleets, that he might design
the different manoeuvres and engagements; that he was present in
various sea-fights, in which he fearlessly exposed himself to the most
imminent danger, while making his sketches; he was present at the severe
battle between the English and Dutch fleets, under the command of the
Duke of York and Admiral Opdam, in which the ship of the latter, with
five hundred men, was blown up, and in the still more memorable
engagement in the following year, between the English under the Duke of
Albemarle, and the Dutch Admiral de Ruyter, which lasted three days. It
is said that during these engagements he sailed alternately between the
fleets, so as to represent minutely every movement of the ships, and the
most, material circumstances of the actions with incredible exactness
and truth. So intent was he upon his drawing, that he constantly exposed
himself to the greatest danger, without the least apparent anxiety. He
wrote over the ships their names and those of their commanders; and
under his own frail craft _V. Velde's Gallijodt_, or _Myn Gallijodt_.


After having executed many capital pictures for the States of Holland,
Van de Velde was invited to England by Charles II., who had become
acquainted with his talents during his residence in Holland. He arrived
in London about 1675, well advanced in years, and the king settled upon
him a pension of £100 per annum until his death, in 1693, as appears
from this inscription on his tomb-stone in St. James' church: "Mr.
William van de Velde, senior, late painter of sea-fights to their
Majesties, King Charles II. and King James, died in 1693." He was
accompanied by his son, who was also taken into the service of the king,
as appears from an order of the privy seal, as follows: "Charles the
Second, by the grace of God, &c., to our dear Cousin, Prince Rupert, and
the rest of our commissioners for executing the place of Lord High
Admiral of England, greeting. Whereas, we have thought fit to allow the
salary of £100 per annum unto William van de Velde the Elder, for taking
and making draughts of sea-fights; and the like salary of £100 per annum
unto William van de Velde the younger, for putting the said draughts in
color for our particular use; our will and pleasure is, and we do hereby
authorize and require you to issue your orders for the present and the
future establishment of said salaries to the aforesaid William van de
Velde the Elder and William van de Velde the Younger, to be paid unto
them, or either of them, during our pleasure, and for so doing, these
our letters shall be your sufficient warrant and discharge. Given under
our privy-seal, at our palace of Westminster, the 20th day of February,
in the 26th year of our reign."

Many of the large pictures of sea-fights in England, and doubtless in
Holland, bearing the signature _W. van de Velde_, and generally
attributed to the son, were executed by him from the designs of his
father. Such are the series of twelve naval engagements and sea-ports in
the palace at Hampton Court, though signed like the best works of the
younger van de Velde; they are dated 1676 and 1682.


This eminent artist was the son of the preceding, and born at Amsterdam
in 1633. He had already acquired a distinguished reputation in his
native country for his admirable cabinet pictures of marine subjects,
when he accompanied his father to England, where his talents not only
recommended him to the patronage of the king, but to the principal
nobility and personages of his court, for whom he executed many of his
most beautiful works. "The palm," says Lord Orford, "is not less
disputed with Raffaelle for history, than with Van de Velde for
sea-pieces." He died in 1707.


Like his father, the younger Van de Velde designed everything from
nature, and his compositions are distinguished by a more elegant and
tasteful arrangement of his objects, than is to be found in the
productions of any other painter of marines. His vessels are designed
with the greatest accuracy, and from the improvements which had been
made in ship-building, they are of a more graceful and pleasing form
than those of his predecessors; the cordage and rigging are finished
with a delicacy, and at the same time with a freedom almost without
example; his small figures are drawn with remarkable correctness, and
touched with the greatest spirit. In his calms the sky is sunny, and
brilliant, and every object is reflected in the glassy smoothness of the
water, with a luminous transparency peculiar to himself. In his fresh
breezes and squalls, the swell and curl of the waves is delineated with
a truth and fidelity which could only be derived from the most attentive
and accurate study of nature; in his storms, tempests, and hurricanes,
the tremendous conflict of the elements and the horrors of shipwreck are
represented with a truthfulness that strikes the beholder with terror.

The works of the younger Van de Velde are very numerous, and the greater
part of them are in England, where Houbraken says they were so highly
esteemed that they were eagerly sought after in Holland, and purchased
at high prices to transport to London; so that they are rarely to be met
with in his native country. Smith, in his Catalogue raisonné, vol. vi.
and Supplement, describes about three hundred and thirty pictures by
him, the value of which has increased amazingly, as may be seen by a few
examples. The two marines now in the Earl of Ellesmere's collection, one
a View of the Entrance to the Texel, sold in 1766 for £80, now valued at
£1,000; the other sold in 1765 for £84, now valued at £500. A Sea-View,
formerly in the collection of Sir Robert Peel, sold in 1772 for only
£31; brought in 1828, £300. The Departure of Charles II. from Holland in
1660, sold in 1781 for £82; it brought recently, at public sale, £800. A
View off the Coast of Holland sold in 1816 for £144; it brought, in Sir
Simon Clarke's sale in 1840, £1,029. A View on the Sea-Shore, 16 inches
by 12, sold in 1726 for £9, and in 1835 for £108. The picture known as
_Le Coup de Canon_, sold in 1786 for £52, in 1790 for only £36, but in
1844 it brought 1,380 guineas.

The drawings, and especially the sketches and studies of the younger Van
de Velde are very numerous, and prove the indefatigable pains he took in
designing his vessels, their appurtenances, and the ordonnance of his
compositions. His sketches are executed in black lead only; his more
finished drawings with the pencil or pen, and shaded with India ink. He
executed these with wonderful facility; it is recorded that he was so
rapid in his sketching, that he frequently filled a quire of paper in an
evening. Stanley says that during the years 1778 and 1780, about 8,000
of his drawings were sold in London at public auction. Some of his
choicest drawings in India ink brought, at the sale of M. Goll de
Frankenstein at Amsterdam, in 1833, and at that of the late Baron
Verstolk de Soelen, in the same city in 1847, prices varying from £27 up
to £144 each. He inherited his father's drawings, and all these seem now
to be attributed to him.


This distinguished French painter was born at Andely, in Normandy, in
1594. He was descended from a noble family, originally of Soissons,
whose fortunes had been ruined in the disastrous civil wars in the time
of Charles IX. and Henry III. His father, Jean Poussin, after serving
in the army of Henry IV., settled on a small paternal inheritance at
Andely, where he cultivated a taste for literature and the sciences, and
instructed his son in the same. Young Poussin had already distinguished
himself for the solidity of his judgment, and his progress in letters,
when a natural fondness for drawing, developed by an acquaintance he had
formed with Quintin Varin, an artist of some eminence, induced him to
solict the permission of his father to adopt painting as a profession.


In 1612, at the age of eighteen, Poussin went to Paris in search of
improvement, where he devoted himself to studying the best works to
which he could gain access (for the fine arts were then at a low ebb in
France) with the greatest assiduity. In 1620, according to Felibien, the
Jesuits celebrated the canonization of the founder of their order,
Ignatius Loyola and St. Francis Xavier, on which occasion they
determined to display a series of pictures by the first artists in
Paris, representing the miracles performed by their patron saints. Of
these, Poussin painted six in distemper, in an incredibly short space of
time, and when the exhibition came off, although he had been obliged to
neglect detail, his pictures excited the greatest admiration on account
of the grandeur of conception, and the elegance of design displayed in
them. They obtained the preference over all the others, and brought
Poussin immediately into notice.


While Poussin resided at Paris, his talents, and the endowments of his
mind procured him the esteem of several men of letters and distinction,
among whom was the Cav. Marino, the celebrated Italian poet, who
happened then to be in Paris. Marino strongly urged him to accompany him
to Rome, an invitation which Poussin would gladly have accepted, had he
not then been engaged in some commissions of importance, which having
completed, he set out for Rome in 1624, where he was warmly received by
his friend Marino, who introduced him to the Cardinal Barberini. He
however derived little advantage from this favorable notice at the time,
as the Cardinal soon after left Rome on his legation to France and
Spain, and the Cav. Marino died about the same time. Poussin now found
himself a stranger, friendless and unknown in the Eternal City, in very
embarrassed circumstances; but he consoled himself with the thought that
his wants were few, that he was in the very place where he had long
sighed to be, surrounded by the glorious works of ancient and modern
art, and that he should have abundant leisure to study. Therefore,
though he could scarcely supply his necessities by the disposal of his
works, and was often compelled to sell them for the most paltry prices,
his courage did not fail him, but rather stimulated him to the greatest
assiduity to perfect himself in the art. He lodged in the same house
with Francis du Quesnoy, called Il Fiammingo, the state of whose
finances at that time were not more flourishing than his own, and he
lived in habits of intimacy and strict friendship with that eminent
sculptor, with whom he explored, studied, and modeled the most
celebrated antique statues and bas-reliefs, particularly the Meleager in
the Vatican, from which he derived his rules of proportion. At first he
copied several of the works of Titian, and improved his style of
coloring, but he afterwards contemplated the works of Raffaelle with an
enthusiasm bordering on adoration. The admirable expression and purity
of the works of Domenichino, rendered them particularly interesting to
him, and he used to regard his Communion of St. Jerome as the second
picture at Rome, the Transfiguration by Raffaelle being the first.


While Poussin was thus pursuing his studies at Rome, he was left by the
death of his friend Marino, in a state of extreme distress, and was
obliged to dispose of his paintings at the most paltry prices, to
procure the necessaries of life. Filibien says that he sold the two
fine battle-pieces which were afterwards in the collection of the Duke
de Noailles for seven crowns each, and a picture of a Prophet for eight
livres. His celebrated picture of "the Ark of God among the Philistines"
brought him but sixty crowns; the original purchaser sold it not long
afterwards to the Duc de Richelieu for one thousand crowns!


A brighter day now dawned upon Poussin. What had happened to him, which
would have been regarded by most young artists as the greatest
misfortune and sunk them in despondency and ruin, proved of the greatest
advantage to him. The Cardinal Barberini having returned to Rome, gave
him some commissions, which he executed in such an admirable manner as
at once established his reputation among those of the greatest artists
of the age. The first work he executed for his patron was his celebrated
picture of the Death of Germanicus, which Lanzi pronounces one of his
finest productions. He next painted the Taking of Jerusalem by Titus.
These works gave the Cardinal so much satisfaction that he procured for
him the commission to paint a large picture of the Martyrdom of St.
Erasmus, for St. Peter's, now in the pontifical palace at Monte Cavallo.
These works procured him the friendship and patronage of the Cav. del
Pozzo, for whom he painted his first set of pictures, representing the
Seven Sacraments, now in the collection of the Duke of Rutland. He
afterwards painted another set of the same, with some variations, for M.
de Chantelou, formerly in the Orleans collection, now in that of the
Marquis of Stafford.


In 1639, Poussin was invited to Paris by Louis XIII., who honored him on
this occasion with the following autograph letter, which was an
extraordinary and unusual homage to art:


"Some of our especial servants having made a report to us of the
reputation which you have acquired, and the rank which you hold among
the best and most famous painters of Italy; and we being desirous, in
imitation of our predecessors, to contribute, as much as lies in us, to
the ornament and decoration of our royal houses, by fixing around us
those who excel in the arts, and whose attainments in them have
attracted notice in the places where those arts are most cherished, do
therefore write you this letter, to acquaint you that we have chosen and
appointed you to be one of our painters in ordinary, and that,
henceforward, we will employ you in that capacity. To this effect our
intention is, that on the receipt of this present, you shall dispose
yourself to come hither, where the services you perform shall meet with
as much consideration as do your merits and your works, in the place
where you now reside. By our order, given to M. de Noyers, you will
learn more particularly the favor we have determined to shew you. We
will add nothing to this present, but to pray God to have you in his
holy keeping.

  "Given at Fontainebleau,
   Jan. 15, 1639."

Poussin accepted the invitation with great reluctance, at the earnest
solicitation of his friends. On his arrival at Paris he was received
with marked distinction, appointed principal painter to the king, with a
pension, and accommodated with apartments in the Tuileries. He was
commissioned to paint an altar-piece for the chapel of St. Germain en
Laie, where he produced his admirable work of the Last Supper, and was
engaged to decorate the Gallery of the Louvre with the Labors of
Hercules. He had already prepared the designs and some of the cartoons
for these works, when he was assailed by the machinations of Simon Vouet
and his adherents; and even the landscape painter Fouquieres, jealous of
his fame, presumed to criticise his works and detract from their merit.


Poussin, naturally of a peaceful turn of mind, fond of retirement and
the society of a few select literary friends, was disgusted with the
ostentation of the court and the cabals by which he was surrounded; he
secretly sighed for the quiet felicity he had left at Rome, and resolved
to return thither without delay. For this purpose, he solicited and
obtained leave of the king to visit Italy and settle his affairs, and
fetch his wife; but when he had once crossed the Alps, no inducement
could prevail on him to revisit his native country, or even to leave
Rome. During a period of twenty-three years after his return to Rome
from Paris, he lived a quiet, unostentatious life, and executed a great
number of pictures, which decorate the principal cabinets of Europe, and
will ever be regarded as among their most valuable ornaments. He
confined himself mostly to works of the large easel size, which were
eagerly sought after, and usually disposed of as soon as they were
executed. He never made any words about the price of his pictures, but
asked a modest and moderate price, which he always marked upon the back
of his canvas, and which was invariably paid. Many of his works were
sent to Paris, where they were valued next to the productions of
Raffaelle. He was plain and unassuming in his manners, very frugal in
his living, yet so liberal and generous that at his death he left an
estate of only 60,000 livres--about $12,000. Felibien relates an
anecdote which pleasingly illustrates his simple and unostentatious mode
of life. The Cardinal Mancini was accustomed to visit his studio
frequently, and on one occasion, having staid later than usual, Poussin
lighted him to the door, at which the prelate observed, "I pity you,
Monsieur Poussin, that you have not one servant." "And I," replied the
painter, "pity your Excellency much more, that you are obliged to keep
so many."


"The favorite subjects of Poussin were ancient fables; and no painter
was ever better qualified to paint such subjects, not only from his
being eminently skilled in the knowledge of the ceremonies, customs, and
habits of the ancients, but from his being so well acquainted with the
different characters which those who invented them gave to their
allegorical figures. Though Rubens has shown great fancy in his Satyrs,
Silenuses, and Fauns, yet they are not that distinct, separate class of
beings which is carefully exhibited by the ancients, and by Poussin.
Certainly, when such subjects of antiquity are represented, nothing
should remind us of modern times. The mind is thrown back into
antiquity, and nothing ought to be introduced that may tend to awaken it
from the illusion.

"Poussin seemed to think that the style and the language in which such
stories are told is not the worse for preserving some relish of the old
way of painting, which seemed to give a general uniformity to the whole,
so that the mind was thrown back into antiquity, not only by the
subject, but also by the execution.

"If Poussin, in imitation of the ancients, represents Apollo driving his
Chariot out of the sea, by way of representing the sun rising, if he
personifies lakes and rivers, it is noways offensive in him, but seems
perfectly of a piece with the general air of the picture. On the
contrary, if the figures which people his pictures had a modern air and
countenance, if they appeared like our countrymen, if the draperies were
like cloth or silk of our manufacture, if the landscape had the
appearance of a modern one, how ridiculous would Apollo appear instead
of the sun, and an old Man or a Nymph with an urn to represent a river
or lake?" He also says, in another place, that "it may be doubted
whether any alteration of what is considered defective in his works,
would not destroy the effect of the whole."


Poussin, in his directions to artists who came to study at Rome, used to
say that "the remains of antiquity afforded him instruction that he
could not expect from masters;" and in one of his letters to M. de
Chantelou, he observes that "he had applied to painting the theory which
the Greeks had introduced into their music--the Dorian for the grave and
the serious; the Phrygian for the vehement and the passionate; the
Lydian for the soft and the tender; and the Ionian for the riotous
festivity of his bacchanalians." He was accustomed to say "that a
particular attention to coloring was an obstacle to the student in his
progress to the great end and design of the art; and that he who
attaches himself to this principal end, will acquire by practice a
reasonably good method of coloring." He well knew that splendor of
coloring and brilliancy of tints would ill accord with the solidity and
simplicity of effect so essential to heroic subjects, and that the
sublime and majestic would be degraded by a union with the florid and
the gay. The elevation of his mind is conspicuous in all his works. He
was attentive to vary his style and the tone of his color,
distinguishing them by a finer and more delicate touch, a tint more
cheerful or austere, a site more cultivated or wild, according to the
character of his subject and the impression he designed to make; so that
we are not less impressed with the beauty and grandeur of his scenery,
than with the varied, appropriate, and dignified characteristics which
distinguish his works.


In Smith's Catalogue raisonné may be found a descriptive account of
upwards of three hundred and fifty of the works of this great artist, in
many instances tracing the history from the time they were painted, the
names of the present possessors, and the principal artists by whom they
have been engraved, together with many interesting particulars of the
life of the painter. There are eight of his pictures in the English
National Gallery, fourteen in the Dulwich Gallery, and many in the
possession of the nobility of England. The prices paid for those in the
National Gallery vary from 150 to 1000 guineas.


Marino was born at Naples. Some political disturbances, in which he and
his family had taken part, obliged him to quit that kingdom, and he took
refuge successively in several of the petty courts of Italy. His talent
for satire involved him in various literary disputes, as well as some
political quarrels, and he never resided long in one place, until Mary
of Medicis invited him to the court of France, where he passed much of
his life, and where he wrote most of his poems, which, though licentious
both in matter and style, contain numerous beauties, and are full of
classical imagery. Marino gave Poussin an apartment in his house at
Rome, and as his own health was at that time extremely deranged, he
loved to have Poussin by the side of his couch, where he drew or
painted, while Marino read aloud to him from some Latin or Italian
author, or from his own poems, which Poussin illustrated by beautiful
drawings, most of which it is to be feared are lost; although it is
believed that there is still existing in the Massimi library, a copy of
the Adonis in Marino's hand-writing, with Poussin's drawings
interleaved. To this kind of study which he pursued with Marino, may
perhaps be attributed Poussin's predilection for compositions wherein
nymphs, and fairies, and bacchanals are the subjects--compositions in
which he greatly excelled.


While the court of France was at variance with the Holy See,
considerable acrimony existed among his Holiness's troops against all
Frenchmen; consequently, wherever they met them in Rome, they instantly
attacked them with sticks and stones, and sometimes with even more
formidable weapons. It happened one day that Poussin and three or four
of his countrymen, returning from a drawing excursion, met at the
Quattro Fontane near Monte Cavallo, a company of soldiers, who seeing
them dressed in the French costume, instantly attacked them. They all
fled but Poussin, who was surrounded, and received a cut from a sabre
between the first and second finger. Passeri, who relates the anecdote,
says that the sword turned, otherwise "a great misfortune must have
happened both to him and to painting." Not daunted, however, he fought
under the shelter of his portfolio, throwing stones as he retreated,
till being recognized by some Romans who took his part, he effected his
escape to his lodgings. From that day he put on the Roman dress,
adopted the Roman way of living, and became so much a Roman, that he
considered the city as his true home.


Poussin not only studied every vestige of antiquity at Rome and in its
environs, with the greatest assiduity while young, but he followed this
practice through life. It was his delight to spend every hour he could
spare at the different villas in the neighborhood of Rome, where,
besides the most beautiful remains of antiquity, he enjoyed the
unrivalled landscape which surrounds that city, so much dignified by the
noble works of ancient days, that every hill is classical, the very
trees have a poetic air, and everything combines to excite in the soul a
kind of dreaming rapture from which it would not be awakened, and which
those who have not felt it can scarcely understand.

He restored the antique temples, and made plans and accurate drawings of
the fragments of ancient Rome; and there are few of his pictures, where
the subject admits of it, in which we may not trace the buildings, both
of the ancient and the modern city. In the beautiful landscape of the
death of Eurydice, the bridge and castle of St. Angelo, and the tower,
commonly called that of Nero, form the middle ground of the picture. The
castle of St. Angelo appears again in one of his pictures of the
Exposing of Moses; and the pyramid of Caius Cestius, the Pantheon, the
ruins of the Forum, and the walls of Rome, may be recognised in the
Finding of Moses, and several others of his remarkable pictures.

"I have often admired," said Vigneul de Marville, who knew him at a late
period of his life, "the love he had for his art. Old as he was, I
frequently saw him among the ruins of ancient Rome, out in the Campagna,
or along the banks of the Tyber, sketching a scene which had pleased
him; and I often met him with his handkerchief full of stones, moss, or
flowers, which he carried home, that he might copy them exactly from
nature. One day I asked him, how he had attained to such a degree of
perfection as to have gained so high a rank among the great painters of
Italy? He answered, '_I have neglected nothing!_'"


The genius of Poussin seems to have gained vigor with age. Nearly his
last works, which were begun in 1660, and sent to Paris 1664, were the
four pictures, allegorical of the seasons, which he painted for the Duc
de Richelieu. He chose the terrestrial paradise, in all the freshness of
creation, to designate spring. The beautiful story of Boaz and Ruth
formed the subject of summer. Autumn was aptly pictured, in the two
Israelites bearing the bunch of grapes from the Promised Land. But the
masterpiece was Winter, represented in the Deluge. This picture has
been, perhaps, the most praised of all Poussin's works. A narrow space,
and a very few persons have sufficed him for this powerful
representation of that great catastrophe. The sun's disc is darkened
with clouds; the lightning shoots in forked flashes through the air:
nothing but the roofs of the highest houses are visible above the
distant water upon which the ark floats, on a level with the highest
mountains. Nearer, where the waters, pent in by rocks, form a cataract,
a boat is forced down the fall, and the wretches who had sought safety
in it are perishing: but the most pathetic incident is brought close to
the spectator. A mother in a boat is holding up her infant to its
father, who, though upon a high rock, is evidently not out of reach of
the water, and is only protracting life a very little.


The long and honorable race of Poussin was now nearly run. Early in the
following year, 1665, he was slightly affected by palsy, and the only
picture of figures that he painted afterwards was the Samaritan Woman at
the Well, which he sent to M. de Chantelou, with a note, in which he
says, "This is my last work; I have already one foot in the grave."
Shortly afterwards he wrote the following letter to M. Felibien: "I
could not answer the letter which your brother, M. le Prieur de St.
Clementin, forwarded to me, a few days after his arrival in this city,
sooner, my usual infirmities being increased by a very troublesome cold,
which continues and annoys me very much. I must now thank you not only
for your remembrance, but for the kindness you have done me, by not
reminding the prince of the wish he once expressed to possess some of my
works. It is too late for him to be well served; I am become too infirm,
and the palsy hinders me in working, so that I have given up the pencil
for some time, and think only of preparing for death, which I feel
bodily upon me. It is all over with me." He expired shortly afterwards,
aged 71 years.


"Painting is an imitation by means of lines and colors, on some
superfices, of everything that can be seen under the sun; its end is to

_Principles that every man capable of reasoning may learn:_--There can
be nothing represented,

  Without light,
  Without form,
  Without color,
  Without distance,
  Without an instrument, or medium.

_Things which are not to be learned, and which make an essential part of

First, the subject must be noble. It should have received no quality
from the mere workmen; and to allow scope to the painter to display his
powers, he should choose it capable of receiving the most excellent
form. He must begin by composition, then ornament, propriety, beauty,
grace, vivacity, probability, and judgment, in each and all. These last
belong solely to the painter, and cannot be taught. The nine are the
golden bough of Virgil, which no man can find or gather, if his fate do
not lead him to it."


A person of rank who dabbled in painting for his amusement, having one
day shown Poussin one of his performances, and asked his opinion of its
merits, the latter replied, "You only want a little poverty, sir, to
make a good painter."


The admirers of Mengs, jealous of Poussin's title of "the Painter of
Philosophers," conferred on him the antithetical one of "the Philosopher
of Painters." Though it cannot be denied that Mengs' writings and his
pictures are learned, yet few artists have encountered such a storm of


Next to correctness of drawing and dignity of conception, Poussin valued
expression in painting. He ranked Domenichino next to Raffaelle for this
quality, and not long after his arrival at Rome, he set about copying
the Flagellation of St. Andrew, painted by that master in the church of
S. Gregorio, in competition with Guido, whose Martyrdom of that Saint is
on the opposite side of the same church. Poussin found all the students
in Rome busily copying the Guido, which, though a most beautiful work,
lacks the energy and expression which distinguish the Flagellation; but
he was too sure of his object to be led away by the crowd. According to
Felibien, Domenichino, who then resided at Rome, in a very delicate
state of health, having heard that a young Frenchman was making a
careful study of his picture, caused himself to be conveyed in his chair
to the church, where he conversed some time with Poussin, without making
himself known; charmed with his talents and highly cultivated mind, he
invited him to his house, and from that time Poussin enjoyed his
friendship and profited by his advice, till that illustrious painter
went to Naples, to paint the chapel of St. Januarius.


Among the strolling parties of monks and friars, cardinals and prelates,
Roman princesses and English peers, Spanish grandees and French
cavaliers which crowded the _Pincio_, towards the latter end of the
seventeenth century, there appeared two groups, which may have recalled
those of the Portico or the Academy, and which never failed to interest
and fix the attention of the beholders. The leader of one of these
singular parties was the venerable Niccolo Poussin! The air of antiquity
which breathed over all his works seemed to have infected even his
person and his features; and his cold, sedate, and passionless
countenance, his measured pace and sober deportment, spoke that
phlegmatic temperament and regulated feeling, which had led him to study
monuments rather than men, and to declare that the result of all his
experience was "to teach him to live well with all persons." Soberly
clad, and sagely accompanied by some learned antiquary or pious
churchman, and by a few of his deferential disciples, he gave out his
trite axioms in measured phrase and emphatic accent, lectured rather
than conversed, and appeared like one of the peripatetic teachers of the
last days of Athenian pedantry and pretension.

In striking contrast to these academic figures, which looked like their
own "grandsires cut in alabaster," appeared, unremittingly, on the
Pincio, after sun-set, a group of a different stamp and character, led
on by one who, in his flashing eye, mobile brow, and rapid movement, all
fire, feeling, and perception--was the very personification of genius
itself. This group consisted of Salvator Rosa, gallantly if not
splendidly habited, and a motley gathering of the learned and witty, the
gay and the grave, who surrounded him. He was constantly accompanied in
these walks on the Pincio by the most eminent virtuosi, poets,
musicians, and cavaliers in Rome; all anxious to draw him out on a
variety of subjects, when air, exercise, the desire of pleasing, and the
consciousness of success, had wound him up to his highest pitch of
excitement; while many who could not appreciate, and some who did not
approve, were still anxious to be seen in his train, merely that they
might have to boast "_nos quoque_."

From the Pincio, Salvator Rosa was generally accompanied home by the
most distinguished persons, both for talent and rank; and while the
frugal Poussin was lighting out some reverend prelate or antiquarian
with one sorry taper, Salvator, the prodigal Salvator, was passing the
evening in his elegant gallery, in the midst of princes, nobles, and men
of wit and science, where he made new claims on their admiration, both
as an artist and as an _improvisatore_; for till within a few years of
his death he continued to recite his own poetry, and sing his own
compositions to the harpsichord or lute.


Poussin is, in the strict sense of the word, an historical painter.

Michael Angelo is too intent on the sublime, too much occupied with the
effect of the whole, to tell a common history. His conceptions are epic,
and his persons, and his colors, have as little to do with ordinary
life, as the violent action of his actors have resemblance to the
usually indolent state of ordinary men.

Raffaelle's figures interest so much in themselves, that they make us
forget that they are only part of a history. We follow them eagerly, as
we do the personages of a drama; we grieve, we hope, we despair, we
rejoice with them.

Poussin's figures, on the contrary, tell their story; we feel not the
intimate acquaintance with themselves, that we do with the creations of
Raffaelle. His Cicero would thunder in the forum and dissipate a
conspiracy, and we should take leave of him with respect at the end of
the scene; but with Raffaelle's we should feel in haste to quit the
tumult, and retire with him to his Tusculum, and learn to love the
virtues, and almost to cherish the weaknesses of such a man.

Poussin has shown that grace and expression may be independent of what
is commonly called beauty. His women have none of that soft, easy, and
attractive air, which many other painters have found the secret of
imparting, not only to their Venuses and Graces, but to their Madonnas
and Saints. His beauties are austere and dignified. Minerva and the
Muses appear to have been his models, rather than the inhabitants of
Mount Cithæron. Hence subjects of action are more suited to him than
those of repose.--_Graham's Life of Poussin_.


Paul Rembrandt van Rhyn, one of the most eminent painters and engravers
of the Dutch school, was the son of a miller, and was born in 1606, at a
small village on the banks of the Rhine, between Leyderdorp and Leyden,
whence he was called Rembrandt van Rhyn, though his family name was
Gerretz. It is said that his father, being in easy circumstances,
intended him for one of the learned professions, but was induced by
Rembrandt's passion for the art to allow him to follow his inclination.
He entered the school of J. van Zwaanenberg at Amsterdam, where he
continued three years, and made such surprising progress as astonished
his instructor. Having learned from Zwaanenberg all he was capable of
imparting, he next studied about six months with Peter Lastmann, and
afterwards for a short time with Jacob Pinas, from whom it is said he
acquired that taste for strong contrasts of light and shadow, for which
his works are so remarkable. He was, however, more indebted for his best
improvement to the vivacity of his own genius, and an attentive study of
nature, than to any information he derived from his instructors. On
returning home, he fitted up an attic room, with a skylight, in his
father's mill, for a studio, where he probably pursued his labors for
several years, as he did not remove to Amsterdam till 1630. Here he
studied the grotesque figure of the Dutch boor, or the rotund contour of
the bar-maid of an ale house, with as much precision as the great
artists of Italy have imitated the Apollo Belvidere, or the Medicean
Venus. He was exceedingly ignorant, and it is said that he could
scarcely read. He was of a wayward and eccentric disposition, and sought
for recreation among the lowest orders of the people, in the amusements
of the ale-house, contracting habits which continued through life; even
when in prosperous circumstances, he manifested no disposition to
associate with more refined and intellectual society. It will readily be
perceived that his habits, disposition, and studies could not conduct
him to the noble conceptions of Raffaelle, but rather to an exact
imitation of the lowest order of nature, with which he delighted to be
surrounded. The life of Rembrandt is much involved in fable, and in
order to form a just estimate of his powers, it is necessary to take
these things into consideration. It is said by some writers, that, had
he studied the antique, he would have reached the very perfection of the
art, but Nieuwenhuys, in his review of the Lives and Works of the most
eminent painters of the Dutch and Flemish schools, in Smith's Catalogue
raisonné, vol xii. and supplement, says that he was by no means
deficient on that point. "For it is known that he purchased, at a high
price, casts from the antique marbles, paintings, drawings, and
engravings by the most excellent Italian masters, to assist him in his
studies, and which are mentioned in the inventory of his goods when
seized for debt."

He then goes on to give a list of the works so seized. Be this as it may
he certainly never derived any advantage from them. He had collected a
great variety of old armor, sabres, flags, and fantastical vestments,
ironically terming them his antiques, and frequently introducing them
into his pictures.

Rembrandt had already brought both the arts of painting and engraving to
very great perfection (in his own way), when a slight incident led him
to fame and fortune. He was induced by a friend to take one of his
choicest pictures to a picture-dealer at the Hague, who, being charmed
with the performance, instantly gave him a hundred florins for it, and
treated him with great respect. This occurrence served to convince the
public of his merit, and contributed to make the artist sensible of his
own abilities. In 1630 he went to Amsterdam, where he married a handsome
peasant girl (frequently copied in his works), and settled there for
life. His paintings were soon in extraordinary demand, and his fame
spread far and wide; pupils flocked to his studio, and he received for
the instruction of each a hundred florins a year. He was so excessively
avaricious that he soon abandoned his former careful and finished
style, for a rapid execution; also frequently retouched the pictures of
his best pupils, and sold them as his own. His deceits in dating several
of his etchings at Venice, to make them more saleable, led some of his
biographers to believe that he visited Italy, and resided at Venice in
1635 and 1636; but it has been satisfactorily proved that he never left
Holland, though he constantly threatened to do so, in order to increase
the sale of his works. As early as 1628, he applied himself zealously to
etching, and soon acquired great perfection in the art. His etchings
were esteemed as highly as his paintings, and he had recourse to several
artifices to raise their price and increase their sales. For example, he
sold impressions from the unfinished plates, then finished them, and
after having used them, made some slight alterations, and thus sold the
same works three or four times; producing what connoisseurs term
_variations_ in prints. By these practices, and his parsimonious manner
of living, Rembrandt amassed a large fortune.


His works are numerous, and are dispersed in various public and private
collections of Europe; and when they are offered for sale they command
enormous prices. There are eight of his pictures in the English National
Gallery; one of these, the Woman taken in Adultery, formerly in the
Orleans collection, sold for £5000. In Smith's Catalogue raisonné is a
description of six hundred and forty pictures by him, the public and
private galleries and collections in which they were located at the time
of the publication of the work, together with a copious list of his
drawings and etchings, and much other interesting information. He left
many studies, sketches, and drawings, executed in a charming style,
which are now scarce and valuable.


Rembrandt holds a distinguished rank among the engravers of his country;
he established a more important epoch in this art than any other master.
He was indebted entirely to his own genius for the invention of a
process which has thrown an indescribable charm over his plates. They
are partly etched, frequently much assisted by the dry point, and
occasionally, though rarely, finished with the graver; evincing the most
extraordinary facility of hand, and displaying the most consummate
knowledge of light and shadow. His free and playful point sports in
picturesque disorder, producing the most surprising and enchanting
effects, as if by accident; yet an examination will show that his
motions are always regulated by a profound knowledge of the principles
of light and shadow. His most admirable productions in both arts are his
portraits, which are executed with unexampled expression and skill. For
a full description of his prints, the reader is referred to Bartsch's
Peintre Graveur.

His prints are very numerous, yet they command very high prices. The
largest collection of his prints known, was made by M. de Burgy at the
Hague, who died in 1755. This collection contained 665 prints with their
variations, namely, 257 portraits, 161 histories, 155 figures, and 85
landscapes. There are no less than 27 portraits of Rembrandt by himself.


Sandrart relates the following anecdote of Christopher Schwarts, a
famous German painter, which, if true, redounds more to his ingenuity
than to his credit. Having been engaged to paint the ceiling of the Town
Hall at Munich by the day, his love of dissipation induced him to
neglect his work, so that the magistrates and overseers of the work were
frequently obliged to hunt him out at the cabaret. As he could no longer
drink in quiet, he stuffed an image of himself, left the legs hanging
down between the staging where he was accustomed to work, and sent one
of his boon companions to move the image a little two or three times a
day, and to take it away at noon and night. By means of this deception,
he drank without the least disturbance a whole fortnight together, the
inn-keeper being privy to the plot. The officers came in twice a day to
look after him, and seeing the well known stockings and shoes which he
was accustomed to wear, suspected nothing wrong, and went their way,
greatly extolling their own convert, as the most industrious and
conscientious painter in the world.


This eminent French engraver was born at Nancy, in Lorraine, in 1593. He
was the son of Jean Callot, a gentleman of noble family, who intended
him for a very different profession, and endeavored to restrain his
natural passion for art; but when he was twelve years old, he left his
home without money or resources, joined a company of wandering
Bohemians, and found his way to Florence, where some officer of the
court, discovering his inclination for drawing, placed him under
Cantagallina. After passing some time at Florence, he went to Rome,
where he was recognized by some friends of his family, who persuaded him
to return to his parents. Meeting with continual opposition, he again
absconded, but was followed by his brother to Turin, and taken back to
Nancy. His parents, at length finding his love of art too firmly
implanted to be eradicated, concluded to allow him to follow the bent of
his genius, and they sent him to Rome in the suite of the Envoy from the
Duke of Lorraine to the Pope. Here he studied with the greatest
assiduity, and soon distinguished himself as a very skillful engraver.
From Rome he went to Florence, where his talents recommended him to the
patronage of the Grand Duke Cosmo II., on whose death he returned to
Nancy, where he was liberally patronized by Henry, Duke of Lorraine.
When misfortune overtook that prince, he went to Paris, whither his
reputation had preceded him, where he was employed by Louis XIII. to
engrave the successes of the French arms, particularly the siege of the
Isle de Ré, in sixteen sheets; the siege of Rochelle, do.; and the siege
of Breda, in eight sheets. His prints are very numerous, and are highly
esteemed; Heineken gives a full list of his prints, amounting to over
fifteen hundred! The fertility of his invention and the facility of his
hand were wonderful; yet his prints are accurately designed. He
frequently made several drawings for the same plate before he was
satisfied. Watelet says that he saw four different drawings by him for
the celebrated Temptation of St. Anthony. His drawings are also greatly
admired and highly prized.


When Cardinal Richelieu desired Callot to design and engrave a set of
plates descriptive of the siege and fall of his native town, he promptly
refused; and when the Cardinal peremptorily insisted that he should do
it, he replied, "My Lord, if you continue to urge me, I will cut off the
thumb of my right hand before your face, for I never will consent to
perpetuate the calamity and disgrace of my sovereign and protector."


Pliny asserts that an ingenious artist wrote the whole of the Iliad on
so small a piece of parchment that it might be enclosed within the
compass of a nut-shell. Cicero also records the same thing. This
doubtless might be done on a strip of thin parchment, and rolling it

Heylin, in his life of Charles I., says that in Queen Elizabeth's time,
a person wrote the Ten Commandments, the Creed, the Pater Noster, the
Queen's name, and the date, within the compass of a penny, which he
presented to her Majesty, together with a pair of spectacles of such an
artificial make, that by their help she plainly discerned every letter.
One Francis Almonus wrote the Creed, and the first fourteen verses of
the Gospel of St. John, on a piece of parchment no larger than a penny.
In the library of St. John's College, Oxford, is a picture of Charles I.
done with a pen, the lines of which contain all the psalms, written in a
legible hand.

"At Halston, in Shropshire, the seat of the Myttons, is preserved a
carving much resembling that mentioned by Walpole in his Anecdotes of
Painting, vol. ii., p. 42. It is the portrait of Charles I., full-faced,
cut on a peach-stone; above, is a crown; his face, and clothes which are
of a Vandyck dress are painted; on the reverse is an eagle transfixed
with an arrow, and round it is this motto: _I feathered this arrow._ The
whole is most admirably executed, and is set in gold, with a crystal on
each side. It probably was the work of Nicholas Bryot, a great graver of
the mint in the time of Charles I."--_Pennant's Wales._

In the Royal Museum at Copenhagen is a common cherry-stone, on the
surface of which are cut two hundred and twenty heads!


"When the haughty and able Pope Innocent III. caused Cardinal Langton to
be elected Archbishop of Canterbury in despite of King John, and
compelled him to submit, to appease the latter and to admonish him, his
Holiness presented him with four golden rings, set with precious stones,
at the same time taking care to inform him of the many mysteries implied
in them. His Holiness begged of him (King John)," says Hume, "to
consider seriously the _form_ of the rings, their _number_, their
_matter_, and their _color_. Their _form_, he said, shadowed out
eternity, which had neither beginning nor end; and he ought thence to
learn his duty of aspiring from earthly objects to heavenly, from things
temporal to things eternal. The _number_, from being a square, denoted
steadiness of mind, not to be subverted either by adversity or
prosperity, fixed forever on the firm base of the four cardinal
virtues. _Gold_, which is the matter, being the most precious of the
metals, signified wisdom, which is the most precious of all the
accomplishments, and justly preferred by Solomon to riches, power, and
all exterior attainments. The _blue color_ of the sapphire represented
Faith; the _verdure_ of the emerald, Hope; the _redness_ of the ruby,
Charity; and the _splendor_ of the topaz, good works." Jewelers, who
usually deal so little in sentiment in their works, may learn from this
ingenious allegory the advantage of calling up the wonder-working aid of
fancy, in forming their combinations of precious things.


In the Cathedral at Worms, over the altar, is a very old painting, in
which the Virgin is represented throwing the infant Jesus into the
hopper of a mill; while from the other side he issues, changed into
wafers or little morsels of bread, which the priests are administering
to the people.

Mathison, in his letters, thus describes a picture in a church at
Constance, called the Conception of the Holy Virgin. "An old man lies on
a cloud, whence he darts a vast beam, which passes through a dove
hovering just below; at the end of the beam appears a large transparent
egg, in which egg is seen a child in swaddling clothes, with a glory
round it; Mary sits leaning in an arm-chair and opens her mouth to
receive the egg!" Which are the most profane--these pictures, or the
Venus Anadyomene of Apelles, the Venus of Titian, and the Leda of


"The oldest oil painting now in existence, is believed to be one of the
Madonna and infant Jesus in her arms, with an Eastern style of
countenance. It is marked DCCCLXXXVI. (886). This singular and
valuable painting formed part of the treasures of art in the old palace
of the Florentine Republic, and was purchased by the Director Bencivenni
from a broker in the street, for a few livres."

The above is found quoted in many books, in proof that oil painting was
known long before the time of the Van Eycks; but all these old
_supposed_ oil paintings have been proved by chemical analysis to have
been painted in distemper. See vol. ii., p. 141, of this work.


Homer represents the Harpies as the rapacious goddesses of the storms,
residing near the Erinnyes, or the Ocean, before the jaws of hell. If
any person was so long absent from home that it was not known what had
become of him, and he was supposed to be dead, it was commonly said,
"The Harpies have carried him off." Hesiod represents them as young
virgins of great beauty. The later poets and artists vied with each
other in depicting them under the most hideous forms; they commonly
represented them as winged monsters, having the face of a woman and the
body of a vulture, with their feet and fingers armed with sharp claws.
Spanheim, in his work, gives three representations of the harpies, taken
from ancient coins and works of art; they have female heads, with the
bodies and claws of birds of prey; the first has a coarse female face,
the second a beautiful feminine head, and two breasts, and the third a
visage ornamented with wreaths and a head-dress. There are various other
representations of them, one of the most remarkable of which is a
monster with a human head and the body of a vampire bat.


This extraordinary painter was born at Haerlem, in 1608. His parents
were extremely poor, and his mother sold to the peasants bonnets and
handkerchiefs, which the young Adrian painted with flowers and birds.
These attempts were noticed by Francis Hals, a distinguished painter of
Haerlem, who offered to take the young artist into his school--which
proposal was gladly accepted. Hals, on discovering his superior genius,
separated him from all his companions, and locked him up in a garret,
that he might profit by his talents. The pictures of Brower sold
readily at high prices, but the avaricious Hals treated him with
increased severity, lest he should become acquainted with the value of
his talents, and leave him. This cruelty excited the pity of Adrian van
Ostade, then a pupil of Hals; and he found an opportunity of advising
Brower to make his escape, which the latter effected, and fled to
Amsterdam. Soon after arriving in that city, he painted a picture of
Boors Fighting, which he gave to the landlord of the inn where he
lodged, and requested him to sell it. The host soon returned with one
hundred ducats, which he had received for the work. The artist was
amazed at such a result of his labors, but instead of exerting his
wonderful talents, he plunged into a course of dissipation. This natural
propensity to alternate work and indulgence marked his whole life, and
involved him in many extraordinary adventures.


When the States-General were at war with Spain, Brower started on a
visit to Antwerp, whither his reputation had already proceeded him.
Omitting to provide himself with a passport, he was arrested as a spy,
and confined in the citadel, where the Duke d'Aremberg was imprisoned.
That nobleman lived in friendship with Rubens, who often visited him in
his confinement; and the Duke, having observed the genius of Brower,
desired Rubens to bring a palette and pencils, which he gave to Brower,
and the latter soon produced a representation of Soldiers playing at
Cards, which he designed from a group he had seen from his prison
window. The Duke showed the picture to Rubens, who immediately exclaimed
that it was by the celebrated Brower, whose pictures he often admired;
and he offered the Duke six hundred guilders for the work, but the
latter refused to part with it, and presented the artist with a much
larger sum. Rubens lost no time in procuring his liberty, which he did
by becoming his surety, took him into his own house, and treated him
with the greatest kindness.


Brower did not continue long in the hospitable mansion of Rubens, whose
refined and elegant manners, love of literature, and domestic happiness
were less congenial to this erratic genius than the revels of his
pot-companions. Brower soon became weary of his situation, and returned
to his vicious habits, to which he soon fell a victim in 1640, at the
early age of 32 years. He died in the public hospital at Antwerp, and
was buried in an obscure manner; but when Rubens knew it, he had the
body reinterred, with funeral pomp, in the church of the Carmelites; and
he intended also to have erected a superb monument to his memory, had he
lived to see it executed; though Sandrart says there was a magnificent
one over his tomb, with an epitaph to perpetuate his honor.


The subjects of Brower were of the lowest order, representing the
frolics of his pot companions; but his expression is so lively and
characteristic, his coloring so transparent and brilliant, and the
passions and movements of his figures are so admirably expressed, that
his works have justly elicited the applause of the world. They are
highly valued, and in consequence of his irregular life, are exceedingly
scarce. Brower also etched a few plates in a very spirited style.


The name of this artist was Philip Roos, and he was born at Frankfort in
1655. He early showed a passion for painting, and exhibited such
extraordinary talents that the Landgrave of Hesse took him under his
protection, and sent him to Italy with a pension sufficient for his
support. To facilitate his studies, he established himself at Tivoli
(whence his name), where he kept a kind of menagerie, and on account of
the number and variety of the animals, his house was called _Noah's


Rosa da Tivoli's pictures usually represent pastoral subjects, with
herdsmen and cattle, or shepherds with sheep and goats, which he
frequently painted as large as life. He designed everything from nature,
not only his animals, but the sites of his landscapes, ruins, buildings,
rocks, precipices, rivers, etc. His groups are composed with great
judgment and taste, and his landscapes, backgrounds, skies, and
distances are treated in a masterly style. His cattle and animals, in
particular, are designed with wonderful truth and spirit; his coloring
is full of force, his lights and shadows are distributed with judgment
and his touch is remarkably firm and spirited.


Rosa da Tivoli acquired a wonderful facility in design and execution,
for which reason he was named _Mercurius_ by the Bentvogel Society. A
remarkable instance of his powers is recorded by C. le Blond, then a
student at Rome. "It happened one day," says he, "that several young
artists and myself were occupied in designing from the bassi-relievi of
the Arch of Titus, when Roos passing by, was particularly struck with
some picturesque object which caught his attention, and he requested one
of the students to accommodate him with a crayon and paper. What was
our surprise, when in half an hour he produced an admirable drawing,
finished with accuracy and spirit."

It is also related that the Imperial Ambassador, Count Martinez, laid a
wager with a Swedish general that Roos would paint a picture of
three-quarters' size, while they were playing a game at cards; and in
less than half an hour the picture was well finished, though it
consisted of a landscape, a shepherd, and several sheep and goats.


Rosa da Tivoli unfortunately fell into extravagant and dissipated
habits, which frequently caused him great inconvenience. From his
facility, he multiplied his pictures to such an extent as greatly to
depreciate their value. It is related that he would sit down, when
pressed for money, dispatch a large picture in a few hours, and send it
directly to be sold at any price. His servant, possessing more
discretion than his master, usually paid him the highest price offered
by the dealers, and kept the pictures himself, till he could dispose of
them to more advantage.


The most remarkable quality of this distinguished Genoese painter was
his rapidity of operation. He began to paint when ten years old, under
the eye of his father, Giovanni Cambiaso, who evinced good taste in
setting him to copy some works by the correct and noble Mantegna. His
progress was so rapid that at the age of seventeen he was entrusted to
decorate some façades and chambers of the Doria palace at Genoa, where
he displayed his rash facility of hand by painting the story of Niobe on
a space of wall fifty palms long and of proportionate height, without
cartoons or any drawing larger than his first hasty sketch on a single
sheet of paper! While he was engaged on this work, there came one
morning some Florentine artists to look at it. Seeing a lad enter soon
after, and commence painting with prodigious fury, they called out to
him to desist; but his mode of handling the brushes and colors, which
they had imagined it was his business merely to clean or pound, soon
convinced them that this daring youngster was no other than Luca
himself; whereupon they crossed themselves, and declared he would one
day eclipse Michael Angelo.


After attaining a high reputation in Italy, Cambiaso was invited to
Madrid by Philip II. of Spain. He executed there a great number of
works, among which the most important was the vault of the choir of the
Escurial church, where he painted in fresco the "Glory of the Blessed in
Heaven." Instead of allowing the artist to paint from his own
conceptions, the king listened to the counsels of the monks, who
"recommended that the heavenly host should be drawn up in due
theological order." A design "more pious than picturesque" being at last
agreed upon, the painter fell to work with his wonted fury, and so
speedily covered vast spaces with a multitude of figures, that the king,
according to the expressive Italian phrase, "remained stupid," not being
able to believe that the master, with only one assistant, could have
accomplished so much. Philip often visited Cambiaso while at work, and
one day remarking that the head of St. Anne among the blessed was too
youthful, the painter replied by seizing his pencil, and with four
strokes so seamed the face with wrinkles, and so entirely altered its
air, that the royal critic once more "remained stupid," hardly knowing
whether he had judged amiss, or the change had been effected by magic.
By means of thus painting at full speed, frequently without sketches,
and sometimes with both hands at once, Cambiaso clothed the vault with
its immense fresco in about fifteen months. The coloring is still fresh,
and many of the forms are fine and the figures noble; but the
composition cannot be called pleasing. The failure must be mainly
attributed to the unlucky meddling of the friars, who have marshalled

  "The helmed Cherubim,
   And sworded Seraphim,"

with exact military precision, ranged the celestial choir in rows like
the fiddlers of a sublunary orchestra, and accommodated the congregation
of the righteous with long benches, like those of a Methodist
meeting-house! However, the king was so well pleased with the work, that
he rewarded Cambiaso with 12,000 ducats.


In the earlier part of his career, the impetuosity of his genius led him
astray; he usually painted his pictures in oil or fresco without
preparing either drawing or cartoon; and his first style was gigantic
and unnatural. Subsequently, however, he checked this impetuosity, and
it was in the middle of his life that he produced his best works. His
fertility of invention was wonderful; his genius grappled with and
conquered the most arduous difficulties of the art, and he shows his
powers in foreshortening in the most daring variety. He was rapid and
bold in design, yet was selected by Boschini as a model of correctness;
hence his drawings, though numerous, are highly esteemed. His Rape of
the Sabines, in the Palazzo Imperiali at Terralba, near Genoa, has been
highly extolled. It is a large work full of life and motion, passionate
ravishers and reluctant damsels, fine horses and glimpses of noble
architecture, with several episodes heightening the effect of the main
story. Mengs declared he had seen nothing out of Rome that so vividly
reminded him of the chambers of the Vatican.


Very few female portraits are found in the Spanish collections. Their
painters were seldom brought in professional contact with the beauty of
high-born women--the finest touchstone of professional skill--and their
great portrait painters lived in an age of jealous husbands, who cared
not to set off to public admiration the charms of their spouses.
Velasquez came to reside at court about the same time that Madrid was
visited by Sir Kenelm Digby, who had like to have been slain the first
night of his arrival, for merely looking at a lady. Returning with two
friends from supper at Lord Bristol's, the adventurous knight relates in
his Private Memoirs, how they came beneath a balcony where a love-lorn
fair one stood touching her lute, and how they loitered awhile to admire
her beauty, and listen to her "soul-ravishing harmony." Their delightful
contemplations, however, were soon arrested by a sudden attack from
several armed men, who precipitated themselves upon the three Britons.
Their swords were instantly drawn, and a fierce combat ensued; but the
valiant Digby slew the leader of the band, and finally succeeded in
escaping with his companions.

Of the sixty-two works by Velasquez in the Royal Gallery at Madrid,
there are only four female portraits; and of these, two represent
children, another an ancient matron, and a fourth his own wife! The Duke
of Abuquerque, who at the door of his own palace waylaid and
horsewhipped Philip IV., and his minister Olivarez, feigning ignorance
of their persons, as the monarch came to pay a nocturnal visit to the
Duchess, was not very likely to call in the court painter to take her
Grace's portrait. Ladies lived for the most part in a sort of Oriental
seclusion, amongst duennas, waiting-women, and dwarfs; and going abroad
only to mass, or to take the air in curtained carriages on the Prado. In
such a state of things, the rarity of female portraits in the Spanish
collections was a natural consequence.


It is related that this great Spanish painter visited America in early
life, and painted there many works; but the later Spanish historians
have shown that he never quitted his native country; and the
circumstance of his pictures being found in America, is best accounted
for by the following narrative. After acquiring considerable knowledge
of the art under Juan del Castillo at Seville, he determined to travel
for improvement; but how to raise the necessary funds was a matter of
difficulty, for his parents had died leaving little behind them, and his
genius had not yet recommended him to the good offices of any wealthy
or powerful patron. But Murillo was not to be balked of his cherished
desires. Buying a large quantity of canvas, he divided it into squares
of various sizes, which he primed and prepared with his own hands for
the pencil, and then converted into pictures of the more popular saints,
landscapes, and flower-pieces. These he sold to the American traders for
exportation, and thus obtained a sum of money sufficient for his


The small picture which once adorned the tabernacle of the Capuchin high
altar at Seville, is interesting on account of its legend, as well as
its extraordinary artistic merits. Murillo, whilst employed at the
convent, had formed a friendship with a lay brother, the cook of the
fraternity, who attended to his wants and waited on him with peculiar
assiduity. At the conclusion of his labors, this Capuchin of the kitchen
begged for some trifling memorial of his pencil. The painter was quite
willing to comply, but said that he had exhausted his stock of canvas.
"Never mind," said the ready cook, "take this napkin," offering him that
which he had used at dinner. The good-natured artist accordingly went to
work, and before evening he had converted the piece of coarse linen into
a picture compared to which cloth of gold or the finest tissue of the
East would be accounted worthless. The Virgin has a face in which
thought is happily blended with maidenly innocence; and the divine
infant, with his deep earnest eyes, leans forward in her arms,
struggling as it were almost out of the frame, as if to welcome the
carpenter Joseph home from his daily toil. The picture is colored with a
brilliancy which Murillo never excelled, glowing with a golden light, as
if the sun were always shining on the canvas. This admirable work is now
in the Museum of Seville.


One of Murillo's pictures, in the possession of a society of friars in
Flanders, was bought by an Englishman for a considerable sum, and the
purchaser affixed his signature and seal to the back of the canvas, at
the desire of the venders. In due time it followed him to England, and
became the pride of his collection. Several years afterwards, however,
while passing through Belgium, the purchaser turned aside to visit his
friends the monks, when he was greatly surprised to find the beautiful
work which he had supposed was in his own possession, smiling in all its
original brightness on the very same wall where he had been first
smitten by its charms! The truth was, that the monks always kept under
the canvas an excellent copy, which they sold in the manner above
related, as often as they could find a purchaser.


Sebastian Gomez, the mulatto slave of Murillo, is said to have become
enamored of art while performing the menial offices of his master's
studio. Like Erigonus, the color grinder of Nealces, or like Pareja, the
mulatto of Velasquez, he devoted his leisure to the secret study of the
principles of drawing, and in time acquired a skill with the brush
rivalled by few of the regular scholars of Murillo. There is a tradition
at Seville, that he took the opportunity one day, when the painting room
was empty, of giving the first proof of his abilities, by finishing the
head of a Virgin, that stood ready sketched on his master's easel.
Pleased with the beauty of this unexpected interpolation, Murillo, when
he discovered the author of it, immediately promoted Gomez to the use of
those colors which it had hitherto been his task to grind. "I am indeed
fortunate, Sebastian," said the good-natured artist, "for I have not
only created pictures, but a painter."


Francisco Vieira, an eminent Portuguese painter, was still a child when
he became enamored of Doña Ignez Elena de Lima, the daughter of noble
parents, who lived on friendly terms with his own and permitted the
intercourse of their children. The thread of their loves was broken for
a while by the departure of the young wooer to Rome, in the suite of the
Marquis of Abrantes. There he applied himself diligently to the study of
painting, under Trevisani, and carried off the first prize in the
Academy of St. Luke. On returning to Portugal, although only in his 16th
year, he was immediately appointed by King John V. to paint a large
picture of the Mystery of the Eucharist, to be used at the approaching
feast of Corpus Christi; and he also painted the king's portrait.

An absence of seven years had not affected Vieira's constancy, and he
took the first opportunity of flying once more to Ignez. He was kindly
received by the Lima family, at their villa on the beautiful shores of
the Tagus, and was permitted to reside there for a while, painting the
scenery, and wooing his not unwilling mistress. When the maiden's heart
was fairly won, the parents at length interfered, and the lovers found
the old adage verified, that "the course of true love never did run
smooth." Vieira was ignominiously turned out of doors, and the fair
Ignez was shut up in the convent of St. Anna, and compelled to take the

The afflicted lover immediately laid his cause before the king, but
received an unfavorable answer. Nothing daunted, he then went to Rome,
and succeeded in obtaining from the Pope a commission to the Patriarch
of Lisbon, empowering him to inquire into the facts of the case; and
that prelate's report being favorable, the lover was made happy with a
bull annulling the religious vows of the nun, and authorizing their
marriage. It is uncertain how long this affair remained undecided; but a
Portuguese Jesuit having warned Vieira that at home he ran the risk of
being punished by confiscation of his property, for obtaining a bull
without the consent of the civil power, he prolonged his residence at
Rome to six years, that the affair might have time to be forgotten at
Lisbon. During this period he continued to exercise his pencil with so
much success that he was elected a member of the Academy of St. Luke.

After such a probation, the energy and perseverance of the lover is
almost unparalleled. He finally ventured to return to his native Tagus,
and accomplished the object of his life. Disguising himself as a
bricklayer, he skulked about the convent where Ignez lay immured,
mingling with the workmen employed there, till he found means to open a
communication with her and concert a plan of escape. He then furnished
her with male attire, and at last successfully carried her off on
horseback (though not without a severe wound from the brother of his
bride), to another bishopric, where they were married in virtue of the
Pope's bull. After residing for some time in Spain and Italy, however,
Vieira was commanded to return to Portugal, and appointed painter to the
king. Being the best artist in that kingdom, his talents soon
obliterated the remembrance of his somewhat irregular marriage, and
during forty years he painted with great reputation and success for the
royal palaces at Nafra and elsewhere, for the convents, and the
collections of the nobility. It will doubtless be pleasing to the fair
readers of these anecdotes, that all this long course of outward
prosperity was sweetened by the affection of his constant wife.


Estéban March, a distinguished Spanish painter of the 17th century, was
eccentric in character and violent in temperament. Battles being his
favorite subjects, his studio was hung round with pikes, cutlasses,
javelins, and other implements of war, which he used in a very peculiar
and boisterous manner. As the mild and saintly Joanes was wont to
prepare himself for his daily task by prayer and fasting, so his riotous
countryman used to excite his imagination to the proper creative pitch
by beating a drum, or blowing a trumpet, and then valiantly assaulting
the walls of his chamber with sword and buckler, laying about him, like
another Don Quixote, with a blind energy that told severely on the
plaster and furniture, and drove his terrified scholars or assistants to
seek safety in flight. Having thus lashed himself into sufficient
frenzy, he performed miracles, according to Palomino, in the field of
battle-pieces, throwing off many bold and spirited pictures of Pharaoh
and his host struggling in the angry waters, or mailed Christians
quelling the turbaned armies of the Crescent. Few will withhold from him
the praise of Bermudez, for brilliancy of coloring, and for the skill
with which the dust, smoke, and dense atmosphere of the combat are


Palomino says that March had gone out one day, leaving neither meat nor
money in the house, and was absent till past midnight, when he returned
with a few fish, which he insisted on having instantly dressed for
supper. His wife said there was no oil; and Juan Conchillos, one of his
pupils, being ordered to get some, objected that all the shops were shut
up. "Then take linseed oil," cried the impetuous March, "for, _por
Dios_, I will have these fish presently fried." The mess was therefore
served with this unwonted sauce, but was no sooner tasted than it began
to act as a vigorous emetic upon the whole party, "for indeed," gravely
writes Palomino, "linseed oil, at all times of a villainous flavor, when
hot is the very devil." Without more ado, the master of the feast threw
fish and frying-pan out of the window; and Conchillos, knowing his
humor, flung the earthen chafing-dish and charcoal after them. March was
delighted with this sally, and embracing the youth, he lifted him from
the floor, putting him in bodily fear, as he after wards told Palomino,
that he was about to follow the coal and viands into the street. As for
the poor weary wife, she thought of her crockery, and remarking in a
matter of-fact way, "What shall we have for supper now?" went to bed;
whither her husband, pleased with the frolic of spoiling his meal and
breaking the dishes, seems to have followed her in a more complacent
mood than common.


José Antonilez, a Spanish painter, studied under Francisco Rizi at
Madrid. When the latter was occupied in preparing some new scenery for
the theatre at Buon Retiro, Antonilez spoke of him as a painter of
foot-cloths--an expression which was soon communicated to his master.
Rizi immediately administered a wholesome practical rebuke, by
commanding the attendance of Antinolez on his Majesty's service, and
ordering him to execute a piece of painting in distemper. The unlucky
wag, being quite ignorant of the mode of performing the work, and too
proud to confess it, worked for a whole day, at the end of which he had
merely spoiled a large piece of canvas. "So, sir," said Rizi, quietly,
"you see painting foot-cloths is not so easy after all;" and turning to
his servant, added, "here, boy, take this canvas and carry it to the
cistern to be washed."


Jean Ranc, an eminent French portrait painter, was sometimes annoyed by
impertinent and vexatious criticism. Having exhausted all his talent
upon a particular portrait, the friends of the sitter refused to be
pleased, although the sitter himself appears to have been well
satisfied. In concert with the latter, Ranc concerted a plan for a
practical retort. After privately painting a copy of the picture, he cut
the head out of the canvas, and placed it in such a position that the
original could supply the opening with his own veritable face,
undetected. After all was ready, the cavilers were invited to view the
performance, but they were no better pleased. Falling completely into
the snare, the would-be critics were going on to condemn the likeness,
when the relaxing features and hearty laughter of the supposed portrait,
speedily and sufficiently avenged the painter of their fastidiousness.


These Spanish painters contended in 1689 for the office of Master of the
Works in the Cathedral of Granada. Bocanegra was excessively vain and
overbearing, and boasted his superiority to all the artists of his time;
but Ardemans, though a stranger in Granada, was not to be daunted, and a
trial of skill, "a duel with pencils," was accordingly arranged between
them, which was, that each should paint the other's portrait. Ardemans,
who was then hardly twenty-five years of age, first entered the lists,
and without drawing any outline on the canvas, produced an excellent
likeness of his adversary in less than an hour. Bocanegra, quite daunted
by this feat, and discouraged by the applause accorded to his rival by
the numerous spectators, put off his own exhibition till another day,
and in the end utterly failed in his attempt to transfer the features of
his rival to canvas. His defeat, and the jeers of his former admirers,
so overwhelmed him with mortification, that he died shortly after.


The Spanish painter Antonio Pereda married Doña Maria de Bustamente, a
woman of some rank, and greater pretension, who would associate only
with people of high fashion, and insisted on having a duenna in constant
waiting in her antechamber, like a lady of quality. Pereda was not rich
enough to maintain such an attendant; he therefore compromised matters
by painting on a screen an old lady sitting at her needle, with
spectacles on her nose, and so truthfully executed that visitors were
wont to salute her as they passed, taking her for a real duenna, too
deaf or too discreet to notice their entrance!


Bartolomeo Carducci, who was employed in the service of the Spanish
court for many years, was expressing one day his admiration of a newly
finished picture by a brother artist, when one of his own scholars drew
his attention to a badly executed foot. "I did not observe it," replied
he, "it is so concealed by the difficult excellence of this bosom and
these hands"--a piece of kindly criticism that deserves to be recorded.


The Bishop of Malaga, being engaged in improving his Cathedral church,
invited Cano to that city, for the purpose of designing a new tabernacle
for the high altar, and new stalls for the choir. He had finished his
plans, very much to the prelate's satisfaction, when he was privately
informed that the Intendant of the works proposed to allow him but a
very trifling remuneration. "These drawings," said Cano, "are either to
be given away, or to fetch 2,000 ducats;" and packing them up, he
mounted his mule, and took the road to Granada. The niggardly Intendant,
learning the cause of his departure, became alarmed, and sent a
messenger after him post-haste, offering him his own price for the


Skillful as Cano was with the pencil, he loved the chisel above all his
other artistic implements. He was so fond of sculpture that, when
wearied with painting, he would take his tools, and block out a piece of
carving. A disciple one day remarking that to lay down a pencil and take
up a mallet, was a strange method of repose, he replied, "Blockhead!
don't you see that to create form and relief on a flat surface, is a
greater labor than to fashion one shape into another?"


Juan de Alfaro first studied under Antonio del Castillo at Seville, and
subsequently in the school of Velasquez at Madrid. After his return to
Seville, he was wont to plume himself upon the knowledge of art which he
had acquired in the school of that great painter; and he also signed all
his pictures in a conspicuous manner, "_Alfaro, pinxit_." This was too
much for Castillo, and he accordingly inscribed his Baptism of St.
Francis, executed for the Capuchin convent, where his juvenile rival was
likewise employed, "_Non pinxit Alfaro_." Years after, Palomino became
sufficiently intimate with Alfaro, to ask him what he thought of
Castillo's sarcastic inscription. "I think," replied the unabashed
object of the jest, "that it was a great honor for me, who was then a
beardless boy, to be treated as a rival by so able an artist."


Matias de Torres, a Spanish painter, affected the style of Caravaggio.
His compositions were half veiled in thick impenetrable shadows, which
concealed the design, and sometimes left the subject a mystery.
Francisco de Solis was standing before one of them, in the church of
Victory at Madrid, representing a scene from the life of St. Diego, and
was asked to explain the subject depicted. "It represents," said the
witty painter, "_San Brazo_," St. Arm, nothing being distinguished but
the arm of a mendicant in the background.


Palomino relates that a superb eagle, of the bearded kind, having been
captured in the royal chase, near the Prado, the king (Philip III.) gave
orders to Pantoja to paint its likeness, which he did with such
truthfulness that the royal bird, on seeing it, mistook it for a real
eagle, and attacked the picture with such impetuosity that he tore it in
pieces with his beak and talons before they could secure him. The
indignant bird was then tied more carefully, and the portrait painted
over again.


Pacheco relates a remarkable effect produced by a picture from the
pencil of Methodius, who resided at Constantinople about 854. He was
invited to Nicopolis by Bogoris, king of the Bulgarians, to decorate a
banqueting-hall in his palace. That prince left the choice of his
subject to the artist, limiting him to those of a tragic or terrible
character. The sister of Bogoris, during a long captivity at
Constantinople, had become a convert to the Greek church, and greatly
desired that her brother should renounce paganism; therefore it was
probably at her instance, in this case, that Methodius painted the Last
Judgment. He succeeded in depicting the glories of the blessed and the
pains of the damned in such a fearful manner, that the heathen king was
induced in his terror to send for a Bishop, and signify his willingness
to unite with the Greek church; and the whole Bulgarian nation soon
followed his example.


This Dutch painter was invited to Spain by Charles V., and accompanied
that monarch on his expedition to Tunis, of which he preserved some
scenes that were afterwards transferred to Brussels tapestries. He
followed the court for many years, and exercised his art with honor and
profit, in portrait, landscape, and sacred subjects. The palace of the
Prado was adorned with a number of his works, particularly eight
pictures representing the Imperial progresses in Germany, and Views of
Madrid, Valladolid, Naples, and London; all of which perished in the
fire of 1608. Vermeyen was an especial favorite of Charles V., who
ordered his bust to be executed in marble, "for the sake of the gravity
and nobleness of his countenance." He was very remarkable for his long
beard, which gained him the surname of _El Barbudo_ or _Barbalonga_. In
fact, so very lengthy was this beard, that Descamps says the Emperor in
his playful moods used to amuse himself by treading on it, as it trailed
on the ground!


In 1593 the Emperor of Morocco applied to Philip II. for the loan of a
painter, to which the latter made answer that they had in Spain two
sorts of painters--the ordinary and the excellent--and desired to know
which his infidel brother preferred. "Kings should always have the
best," replied the Moor; and so Philip sent him Blas de Prado to Fez.
There he painted various works for the palace, and a portrait of the
monarch's daughter, to the great satisfaction of her father. After
keeping the artist several years in his service, the emperor finally
sent him away, with many rich gifts; and he returned to Castile with
considerable wealth. The Academy of San Ferdinando possesses a fine work
by him, representing the Virgin and Infant seated in the clouds.


This Spanish painter was a favorite with King Charles II. He was
painting his Majesty's portrait one day in the presence of the Queen
mother, when the royal sitter asked him to which of the knightly orders
he belonged. "To none," replied the artist, "but the order of your
Majesty's servants." "Why is this?" said Charles. The Admiral of
Castile, who was standing by, replied that he should have a cross
immediately; and on leaving the royal presence, he sent Carreño a rich
badge of Santiago, assuring him that what the king had said entitled him
to wear it. Palomino says, however, that the artist's modesty prevented
him from accepting the proffered honor. His royal master continued to
treat him with unabated regard, and would allow no artist to paint him
without Carreño's permission.


Palomino was one day in company with Carreño at the house of Don Pedro
de Arce, when a discussion arose about the merits of a certain copy of
Titian's St. Margaret, which hung in the room After all present had
voted it execrable, Carreño quietly remarked, "It at least has the merit
of showing that no man need despair of improving in art, for I painted
it myself when I was a beginner."


Being at his easel one morning with two friends, one of them, for a
jest, drank the cup of chocolate which stood untasted by his side. The
maid-servant removing the cup, Carreño remonstrated, saying that he had
not breakfasted, and on being shown that the contents were gone,
appealed to the visitors. Being gravely assured by them that he had
actually emptied the cup with his own lips, he replied, like Newton,
"Well really, I was so busy that I had entirely forgotten it."


The Cathedral of Cordova still possesses his famous Supper, but in so
faded and ruinous a condition that it is impossible to judge fairly of
its merits. Palomino extols the dignity and beauty of the Saviour's
head, and the masterly discrimination of character displayed in those of
the apostles. Of the jars and vases standing in the foreground, it is
related that while the picture was on the easel, these accessories
attracted, by their exquisite finish, the attention of some visitors, to
the exclusion of the higher parts of the composition, to the great
disgust of the artist. "Andres!" cried he, somewhat testily, to his
servant, "rub out these things, since after all my care and study, and
amongst so many heads, figures, hands, and expressions, people choose to
see nothing but these impertinences;" and much persuasion and entreaty
were needed to save the devoted pipkins from destruction.


The reputation which the Spanish painter Cespedes enjoyed among his
cotemporaries, is proved by an anecdote of Federigo Zuccaro. On being
requested to paint a picture of St. Margaret for the Cathedral of
Cordova, he for some time refused to comply, asking, "Where is Cespedes,
that you send to Italy for pictures?"


Doña Barbara Maria de Hueva was born at Madrid in 1733. Before she had
reached her twentieth year, according to Bermudez, she had acquired so
much skill in painting, that at the first meeting of the Academy of St.
Ferdinand in 1752, on the exhibition of some of her sketches, she was
immediately elected an honorary academician, and received the first
diploma issued under the royal charter. "This proud distinction," said
the president, "is conferred in the hope that the fair artist may be
encouraged to rival the fame of those ladies already illustrious in
art." How far this hope was realized, Bermudez has omitted to inform us.


The eminent American sculptor Greenough, who has recently (1853)
departed this life, wrote several years ago a very interesting account
of a wonderful picture at Florence, from which the following is

"When you enter the church of Santissima Annunziata, at Florence, your
attention is drawn at once to a sort of miniature temple on the left
hand. It is of white marble; but the glare and flash of crimson hangings
and silver lamps scarcely allow your eye the quiet necessary to
appreciate either form or material. A picture hangs there. It is the
_Miraculous Annunciation_. The artist who was employed to paint it, had
finished all except the head of the Virgin Mary, and fell asleep before
the easel while the work was in that condition. On awakening, he beheld
the picture finished; and the short time which had elapsed, and his own
position relative to the canvas, made it clear (so says the tradition)
that a divine hand had completed a task which, to say the least, a
mortal could only attempt with despair.

"Less than this has made many pictures in Italy the objects of
attentions which our Puritan fathers condemned as idolatrous. The
miraculous 'Annunziata' became, accordingly, the divinity of a splendid
shrine. The fame of her interposition spread far and wide, and her
tabernacle was filled with the costly offerings of the devout, the showy
tributes of the zealous. The prince gave of his abundance, nor was the
widow's mite refused; and to this day the reputation of this shrine
stands untouched among all papal devotees.

"The Santissima Annunziata is always veiled, unless her interposition is
urgently demanded by the apprehension of famine, plague, cholera, or
some other public calamity. During my own residence at Florence, I have
never known the miraculous picture to be uncovered during a drought,
without the desired result immediately following. In cases of long
continued rains, its intervention has been equally happy. I have heard
several persons, rather inclined to skepticism as to the miraculous
qualities of the picture, hint that the _barometer_ was consulted on
these occasions; else, say they, why was not the picture uncovered
before the mischief had gone so far? What an idea is suggested by the
bare hint!

"I stood on the pavement of the church, with an old man who had himself
been educated as a priest. He had a talent for drawing, and became a
painter. As a practical painter, he was mediocre; but he was learned in
everything relating to art. He gradually sank from history to portrait,
from portrait to miniature, from miniature to restoration; and had the
grim satisfaction, in his old age, of mending what in his best days he
never could make--good pictures. When I knew him, he was one of the
conservators of the Royal Gallery. He led me before the shrine, and
whispered, with much veneration, the story I have related of its origin.
When I had gazed long at the picture, I turned to speak to him, but he
had left the church. As I walked through the vestibule, however, I saw
him standing near one of the pillars that adorn the façade. He was
evidently waiting for me. Me-thinks I see him now, with his face of
seventy and his dress of twenty-five, his bright black wig, his velvet
waistcoat, and glittering gold chain--his snuff-box in his hand, and a
latent twinkle in his black eyes. 'What is really remarkable in that
miraculous picture,' said he, taking me by the button, and forcing me to
bend till his mouth and my ear were exactly on a line--'What is really
remarkable about it is, that the angel who painted that Virgin, so
completely adopted the style of that epoch! Same angular, incorrect
outline! Same opaque shadows! eh? eh?' He took a pinch, and wishing me a
good appetite, turned up the Via S. Sebastiano."


"La Festra di Cattreda, or commemoration of the placing of the chair of
St. Peter, on the 18th of January, is one of the most striking
ceremonies, at Rome, which follow Christmas and precede the holy week.
At the extremity of the great nave of St. Peter's, behind the high
altar, and mounted upon a tribune designed or ornamented by Michael
Angelo, stands a sort of throne, composed of precious materials, and
supported by four gigantic figures. A glory of seraphim, with groups of
angels, shed a brilliant light upon its splendors. This throne enshrines
the real, plain, worm-eaten wooden chair, on which St. Peter, the prince
of the apostles, is said to have pontificated; more precious than all
the bronze, gold, and gems with which it is hidden, not only from
impious, but holy eyes, and which once only, in the flight of ages, was
profaned by mortal inspection.

"The sacrilegious curiosity of the French, however, broke through all
obstacles to their seeing the chair of St. Peter. They actually removed
its superb casket, and discovered the relic. Upon its mouldering and
dusty surface were traced carvings, which bore the appearance of
letters. The chair was quickly brought into a better light, the dust and
cobwebs removed, and the inscription (for an inscription it was),
faithfully copied. The writing is in Arabic characters, and is the well
known confession of Mahometan faith--'There is but one God, and Mahomet
is his prophet.' It is supposed that this chair had been, among the
spoils of the Crusaders, offered to the church at a time when a taste
for antiquarian lore, and the deciphering of inscriptions, were not yet
in fashion. The story has been since hushed up, the chair replaced, and
none but the unhallowed remember the fact, and none but the audacious
repeat it. Yet such there are, even at Rome!"--_Ireland's Anecdotes of


"The church of St. Lorenzo, at Genoa, is celebrated for containing a
most sacred relic, the 'Sagro Catino,' a dish of one entire and perfect
_emerald_, said to be that on which our Saviour ate his last supper.
Such a dish in the house of a Jewish publican was a miracle in itself.
Mr. Eustace says, he looked for this dish, but found that the French,
'whose delight is brutal violence, as it is that of the lion or the
tiger,' had carried it away. And so indeed they did. But that was
nothing. The carrying off relics--the robbing of Peter to pay Paul, and
spoliating one church to enrich another--was an old trick of legitimate
conquerors in all ages; for this very '_dish_' had been carried away by
the royal crusaders, when they took _Cesarea_ in Palestine, under
_Guillaume Embriaco_, in the twelfth century. In the division of spoils,
this emerald fell to the share of the _Genoese Crusaders_, into whose
holy vocation some of their old trading propensities evidently entered;
and they deemed the vulgar value, the profane price, of this treasure,
so high, that on an emergency, they pledged it for nine thousand five
hundred livres. Redeemed and replaced, it was guarded by the _knights of
honor_ called _Clavigeri_; and only escaped once a year! Millions knelt
before it, and the penalty on the bold but zealous hand that touched it
with a diamond, was a thousand golden ducats."

The French seized this relic, as the crusaders had done in the twelfth
century; but instead of conveying it from the church of San Lorenzo to
the abbey of St. Denis (_selon les règles_), they most sacrilegiously
sent it to a _laboratory_. Instead of submitting it, with a traditional
story, to a _council of Trent_, they handed it over to the _institute of
Paris_; and chemists, geologists, and philosophers, were called on to
decide the fate of that relic which bishops, priests and deacons had
pronounced to be too sacred for human investigation, or even for human
touch. _The result of the scientific investigation was, that the emerald
dish was a piece of green glass!_

When England made the King of Sardinia a present of the dukedom of one
of the oldest republics in Europe, and restitutions were making "_de
part et d'autre_;" _Victor Emmanuel_ insisted upon having his emerald
dish; not for the purpose of putting it in a cabinet of curiosities, as
they had done at Paris, to serve as a curious monument of the remote
epoch in which the art of making colored glass was known--(of its great
antiquity there is no doubt)--but of restoring it to its shrine at San
Lorenzo--to its guard of knights servitors--to the homage, offerings,
and bigotry of the people! with a republished assurance that this is the
invaluable _emerald dish_, the '_Sagro Catino_,' which _Queen Sheba_
offered, with other gems, to King Solomon (who deposited it, where all
gems should be, in his church), and which afterwards was reserved for a
higher destiny than even that assigned to it in the gorgeous temple of
Jerusalem. The story of the analysis by the institute of Paris is hushed
up, and those who would revive it would be branded with the odium of
blasphemy and sedition; none now remember such things, but those who are
the determined enemies of social order, or as the Genoese Royal Journal
would call them, '_the radicals of the age_.'--_Italy, by Lady


There is an old painting in the church of the Holy Virgin at Florence,
representing the Virgin with the infant Jesus in her arms, trampling the
dragon under her feet, about which is the following curious legend, thus
humorously described by Southey, in the Annals of the Fine Arts:

  There once was a Painter in Catholic days,
      Like Job who eschewed all evil,
  Still on his Madonnas the curious may gaze
  With applause and amazement; but chiefly his praise
      And delight was in painting the devil.

  They were angels compared to the devils he drew,
      Who besieged poor St. Anthony's cell,
  Such burning hot eyes, such a _d----mnable_ hue,
  You could even smell brimstone, their breath was so blue
      He painted his devils so well.

  And now had the artist a picture begun,
      'Twas over the Virgin's church door;
  She stood on the dragon embracing her son,
  Many devils already the artist had done,
      But this must outdo all before.

  The old dragon's imps as they fled through the air,
      At seeing it paused on the wing,
  For he had a likeness so just to a hair,
  That they came as Apollyon himself had been there,
      To pay their respects to their king.

  Every child on beholding it, shivered with dread,
      And screamed, as he turned away quick;
  Not an old woman saw it, but raising her head,
  Dropp'd a bead, made a cross on her wrinkles, and said,
      "God help me from ugly old Nick!"

  What the Painter so earnestly thought on by day,
      He sometimes would dream of by night;
  But once he was started as sleeping he lay,
  'Twas no fancy, no dream--he could plainly survey
      That the devil himself was in sight.

  "You rascally dauber," old Beelzebub cries,
      "Take heed how you wrong me, again!
  Though your caricatures for myself I despise,
  Make me handsomer now in the multitude's eyes,
      Or see if I threaten in vain."

  Now the painter was bold and religious beside,
      And on faith he had certain reliance,
  So earnestly he all his countenance eyed,
  And thanked him for sitting with Catholic pride,
      And sturdily bid him defiance.

  Betimes in the morning, the Painter arose,
      He is ready as soon as 'tis light;
  Every look, every line, every feature he knows,
  'Twas fresh to his eye, to his labor he goes,
      And he has the wicked old one quite.

  Happy man, he is sure the resemblance can't fail,
      The tip of his nose is red hot,
  There's his grin and his fangs, his skin cover'd with scales
  And that--the identical curl of the tail,
      Not a mark--not a claw is forgot.

  He looks and retouches again with delight;
      'Tis a portrait complete to his mind!
  He touches again, and again feeds his sight,
  He looks around for applause, and he sees with affright,
      The original standing behind.

  "Fool! idiot!" old Beelzebub grinned as he spoke,
      And stamp'd on the scaffold in ire;
  The painter grew pale, for he knew it no joke,
  'Twas a terrible height, and the scaffolding broke;
      And the devil could wish it no higher.

  "Help! help me, O Mary," he cried in alarm,
      As the scaffold sank under his feet,
  From the canvas the Virgin extended her arm,
  She caught the good painter, she saved him from harm,
      There were thousands who saw in the street.

  The old dragon fled when the wonder he spied,
      And curs'd his own fruitless endeavor:
  While the Painter called after, his rage to deride,
  Shook his palette and brushes in triumph, and cried,
      "Now I'll paint thee more ugly than ever!"


Don José de Valdivielso, one of the chaplains of the gay Cardinal Infant
Ferdinand of Austria, relates the following legend in his paper on the
Tax on Pictures, appended to Carducho's Dialogos de la Pintura. A
certain young friar was famous amongst his order, for his skill in
painting; and he took peculiar delight in drawing the Virgin and the
Devil. To heighten the divine beauty of the one, and to devise new and
extravagant forms of ugliness for the other, were the chief recreations
for his leisure hours. Vexed at last by the variety and vigor of his
sketches, Beelzebub, to be revenged, assumed the form of a lovely
maiden, and crossed under this guise the path of the friar, who being of
an amorous disposition, fell at once into the trap. The seeming damsel
smiled on her shaven wooer, but though nothing loth to be won, would not
surrender her charms at a less price than certain reliquaries and jewels
in the convent treasury--a price which the friar in an evil hour
consented to pay. He admitted her at midnight within the convent walls,
and leading her to the sacristy, took from its antique cabinet the
things for which she had asked. Then came the moment of vengeance.
Passing in their return through the moonlit cloister as the friar stole
along, embracing the booty with one arm, and his false Duessa with the
other, the demon-lady suddenly cried out "Thieves!" with diabolical
energy, and instantly vanished. The snoring monks rushed disordered from
their cells and detected their unlucky brother making off with their
plate. Excuse being impossible, they tied the culprit to a column, and
leaving him till matins, when his punishment was to be determined, went
back to their slumbers. When all was quiet, the Devil reappeared, but
this time in his most hideous shape. Half dead with cold and terror, the
discomfited caricaturist stood shivering at his column, while his
tormentor made unmercifully merry with him; twitting him with his
amorous overtures, mocking his stammered prayers, and irreverently
suggesting an appeal for aid to the beauty he so loved to delineate. The
penitent wretch at last took the advice thus jeeringly given--when lo!
the Virgin descended, radiant in heavenly loveliness, loosened his
cords, and bade him bind the Evil One to the column in his place--an
order which he obeyed through her strength, with no less alacrity than
astonishment. She further ordered him to appear among the other monks at
table, and charged herself with the task of restoring the stolen plate
to its place. Thus the tables were suddenly turned. The friar presented
himself among his brethren in the morning, to their no small
astonishment, and voted with much contrition for his own condemnation--a
sentence which was reversed when they came to examine the contents of
the sacristy, and found everything correct. As to the Devil, who
remained fast bound to the pillar, he was soundly flogged, and so fell
into the pit which he had digged for another. His dupe, on the other
hand, gathered new strength from his fall, and became not only a wiser
and a better man, but also an abler artist; for the experience of that
terrible night had supplied all that was wanting to complete the ideal
of his favorite subjects. Thenceforth, he followed no more after
enticing damsels, but remained in his cloister, painting the Madonna
more serenely beautiful, and the Arch Enemy more curiously appalling
than ever.


This extraordinary artist was born at Leyden, in 1613. He was the son of
a glazier, and early exhibited a passion for the fine arts, which his
father encouraged. He received his first instruction in drawing from
Dolendo, the engraver. He was afterwards placed with Peter Kowenhoorn,
to learn the trade of a glass-stainer or painter; but disliking this
business, he became the pupil of Rembrandt when only fifteen years of
age, in whose school be continued three years. From Rembrandt he learned
the true principles of coloring, to which he added a delicacy of
pencilling, and a patience in working up his pictures to the highest
degree of neatness and finish, superior to any other master. He was more
pleased with the earlier and more finished works of Rembrandt, than with
his later productions, executed with more boldness and freedom of
pencilling; he therefore conceived the project of combining the rich and
glowing colors of that master with the polish and suavity of extreme
finishing, and he adopted the method of uniting the powerful tunes and
the magical light and shadow of his instructor with a minuteness and
precision of pencilling that so nearly approached nature as to become
perfect illusion. But though his manner appears so totally different
from that of Rembrandt, yet it was to him he owed that excellence of
coloring which enabled him to triumph over all the artists of his time.
His pictures are usually of small size, with figures so exquisitely
touched, and with a coloring so harmonious, transparent, and delicate,
as to excite the astonishment and admiration of the beholder. Although
his pictures are wrought up beyond the works of any other artist, there
is still discoverable a spirited and characteristic touch that evinces
the hand of a consummate master, and a breadth of light and shadow which
is only to be found in the works of the greatest masters of the art of
chiaro-scuro. The fame acquired by Douw is a crowning proof that
excellence is not confined to any particular style or manner, and had
he attempted to arrive at distinction by a bolder and less finished
pencil, it is highly probable that his fame would not have been so
great. It has been truly said that there are no positive rules by which
genius must be bounded to arrive at excellence. Every intermediate
style, from the grand and daring handling of Michael Angelo to the
laborious and patient finishing of Douw, may conduct the painter to
distinction, provided he adapts his manner to the character of the
subjects he treats.


Douw designed everything from nature, and with such exactness that each
object appears as perfect as nature herself. He was incontestibly the
most wonderful in his finishing of all the Flemish masters, although the
number of artists of that school who have excelled in this particular
style are quite large. The pictures he first painted were portraits, and
he wrought by the aid of a concave mirror, and sometimes by looking at
the object through a frame of many squares of small silk thread. He
spent so much time in these works that, notwithstanding they were
extremely admired, his sitters became disgusted, and he was obliged to
abandon portrait painting entirely, and devote his attention to fancy
subjects, in the execution of which he could devote as much time as he
pleased. This will not appear surprising, when Sandrart informs us that,
on one occasion, in company with Peter de Laer, he visited Douw, and
found him at work on a picture, which they could not forbear admiring
for its extraordinary neatness, and on taking particular notice of a
broom, and expressing their surprise that he could devote so much time
in finishing so minute an object, Douw informed them that he should work
on it three days more before he should think it complete. The same
author also says that in a family picture of Mrs. Spiering, that lady
sat five days for the finishing of one of her hands, supporting it on
the arm of a chair.


His mind was naturally turned to precision and exactness, and it is
evident that he would have shown this quality in any other profession,
had he practiced another. Methodical and regular in all his habits, he
prepared and ground his own colors, and made his own brushes of a
peculiar shape, and he kept them locked up in a case made for the
purpose, that they might be free from soil. He permitted no one to enter
his studio, save a very few friends, and when he entered himself, he
went as softly as he could tread, so as not to raise the dust, and after
taking his seat, waited some time till the air was settled before he
opened his box and went to work; scarcely a breath of air was allowed to
ventilate his painting-room.


Everything that came from his pencil was precious, even in his
life-time. Houbraken says that his great patron, Mr. Spiering the
banker, allowed him one thousand guilders a year, and paid besides
whatever sum he pleased to ask for his pictures, some of which he
purchased for their weight in silver; but Sandrart informs us, with more
probability, that the thousand guilders were paid to Douw by Spiering on
condition that the artist should give him the choice of all the pictures
he painted. The following description of one of Gerhard's most capital
pictures, for a long time in the possession of the family of Van Hoek,
at Amsterdam, will serve to give a good idea of his method of treating
his subjects. The picture is much larger than his usual size, being
three feet long by two feet six inches wide, inside the frame. The room
is divided into two apartments by a curtain of curiously wrought
tapestry. In one apartment sits a woman giving suck to her child; at her
side is a cradle, and a table covered with tapestry, on which is placed
a gilt lamp which lights the room. In the second apartment is a surgeon
performing an operation upon a countryman, and by his side stands a
woman holding some utensils. The folding doors on one side shows a
study, and a man making a pen by candle light; and on the other, a
school, with boys writing, and sitting at different tables. The whole
is lighted in an agreeable and surprising manner; every object is
expressed with beauty and astonishing force. Nor does the subject appear
too crowded, for it was one of his peculiar talents to show, in a small
compass, more than other painters could do in a much larger space. His
pictures are generally confined to a few figures, and sometimes to a
single one, and when he attempted larger compositions, he was generally
less successful. The works of this artist are not numerous, from the
immense labor and time he bestowed upon a single one; and from this
circumstance, and the estimation in which they are held by the curious
collectors, they have ever commanded enormous prices. They were always
particularly admired in France, in the days of Napoleon, there were no
less than seventeen of his pictures gathered into the Louvre, most of
which were, after his downfall, restored to their original proprietors,
among which was the famous Dropsical Woman, from the collection of the
King of Sardinia. At Turin, are several pictures by Douw, the most
famous of which is the one just named--the Dropsical Woman, attended by
her physician, who is examining an urinal. This picture is wonderfully
true to nature, and each particular hair and pore of the skin is
represented. In the gallery at Florence is one of his pictures,
representing an interior by candle-light, with a mountebank, surrounded
by a number of clowns, which is exquisitely finished. The great fame of
Gerhard Douw, and the eager desire for his works, have given rise to
numerous counterfeits. We may safely say that there is not an original
picture by this artist in the United States. Douw died, very rich, in


This extraordinary artist was born at Nuremberg in 1471. His father was
a skillful goldsmith, from Hungary, and taught his son the first
rudiments of design, intending him for his own profession; but his early
and decided inclination for the arts and sciences induced him to permit
young Durer to follow the bent of his genius. He received his first
instruction in painting and engraving from Martin Hapse. When he had
reached the age of fourteen, it was his father's intention to have
placed him under the instruction of Martin Schoen, of Colmar, the most
distinguished artist of his time in Germany, but the death of the latter
happening about that time, he became a pupil of Michael Wolgemut, in
1486, the first artist then in Nuremberg, with whom he studied
diligently four years. He also cultivated the study of perspective, the
mathematics, and architecture, in all of which he acquired a profound
knowledge. Having finished his studies, he commenced his travels in
1490, and spent four years in traveling through Germany, the
Netherlands, and the adjacent counties and provinces. On his return to
Nuremberg, in 1494, he ventured to exhibit his works to the public,
which immediately attracted great attention. His first work was a piece
of the Three Graces, represented by as many female figures, with a globe
over their heads. He soon after executed one of his masterpieces, a
drawing of Orpheus. About this time, to please his father, as it is
said, he married the daughter of Hans Fritz, a celebrated mechanic, who
proved a fierce Xantippe, and embittered, and some say shortened his
life. In 1506, he went to Venice to improve himself, where his abilities
excited envy and admiration. Here he painted the Martyrdom of St.
Bartholomew for the church of S. Marco, which was afterwards purchased
by the Emperor Rodolphus, and removed to Prague. He also went to
Bologna, and returned home in 1507. This journey to Italy had no effect
whatever upon his style, though doubtless he obtained much information
that was valuable to him, for at this period commenced the proper era of
his greatness.


Though Durer was most famous as an engraver, yet he executed many large
paintings, which occupy a distinguished place in the royal collections
of Germany, and other European countries. In the imperial collection at
Munich are some of the most celebrated, as Adam and Eve, the Adoration
of the Magi, the Crucifixion--a grand composition--the Crowning of the
Virgin, the Battle between Alexander and Darius, and many other great
works. Durer painted the Wise Men's Offering, two pictures of the
Passion of Christ, and an Assumption of the Virgin, for a monastery of
Frankfort, which proved a source of income to the monks, from the
presents they received for exhibiting them. The people of Nuremberg
still preserve, in the Town Hall, his portraits of Charlemagne and some
Emperors of the House of Austria, with the Twelve Apostles, whose
drapery is remarkable for being modern German, instead of Oriental. He
sent his own portrait to Raffaelle, painted on canvas, without any
coloring or touch of the pencil, only heightened with shades and white,
yet exhibiting such strength and elegance that the great artist to whom
it was presented expressed the greatest surprise at the sight of it.
This piece, after the death of Raffaelle, fell into the possession of
Giulio Romano, who placed it among the curiosities of the palace of
Mantua. Besides the pictures already mentioned, there is by him an Ecce
Homo at Venice, his own portrait, and two pictures representing St.
James and St. Philip, and an Adam and Eve in the Florentine Gallery.
There are also some of his works in the Louvre, and in the royal
collections in England. As a painter, it has been observed of Durer that
he studied nature only in her unadorned state, without attending to
those graces which study and art might have afforded him; but his
imagination was lively, his composition grand, and his pencil delicate.
He finished his works with exact neatness, and he was particularly
excellent in his Madonnas, though he encumbered them with heavy
draperies. He surpassed all the painters of his own country, yet he did
not avoid their defects--such as dryness and formality of outline, the
want of a just degradation of the tints, an expression without
agreeableness, and draperies broad in the folds, but stiff in the forms.
He was no observer of the propriety of costume, and paid so little
attention to it that he appears to have preferred to drape his saints
and heroes of antiquity in the costume of his own time and country.
Fuseli observes that "the coloring of Durer went beyond his age, and in
his easel pictures it as far excelled the oil color of Raffaelle in
juice, and breadth, and handling, as Raffaelle excelled him in every
other quality."


Durer derived most of his fame from his engravings, and he is allowed to
have surpassed every artist of his time in this branch of art. Born in
the infancy of the art, he carried engraving to a perfection that has
hardly been surpassed. When we consider that, without any models worthy
of imitation, he brought engraving to such great perfection, we are
astonished at his genius, and his own resources. Although engraving has
had the advantage and experience of more than three centuries, it would
perhaps be difficult to select a specimen of executive excellence
surpassing his print of St. Jerome, engraved in 1514. He had a perfect
command of the graver, and his works are executed with remarkable
neatness and clearness of stroke; if we do not find in his plates that
boldness and freedom desirable in large historical works, we find in
them everything that can be wished in works more minute and finished, as
were his. To him is attributed the invention of etching; and if he was
not the inventor, he was the first who excelled in the art. He also
invented the method of printing wood-cuts in chiaro-scuro, or with two
blocks. His great mathematical knowledge enabled him to form a regular
system of rules for drawing and painting with geometrical precision. He
had the power of catching the exact expression of the features, and of
delineating all the passions. Although he was well acquainted with the
anatomy of the human figure, and occasionally designed it correctly, his
contours are neither graceful nor pleasing, and his prints are never
entirely divested of the stiff and formal taste that prevailed at the
time, both in his figures and drapery. Such was his reputation, both at
home and abroad, that Marc' Antonio Raimondi counterfeited his Passion
of Christ, and the Life of the Virgin at Venice, and sold them for the
genuine works of Durer. The latter, hearing of the fraud, was so
exasperated that he set out for Venice, where he complained to the
government of the wrong that had been done him by the plagiarist, but he
could obtain no other satisfaction than a decree prohibiting Raimondi
from affixing Durer's monogram or signatures to these copies in future.
Vasari says that when the prints of Durer were first brought into Italy,
they incited the painters there to elevate themselves in that branch of
art, and to make his works their models.


The fame of Durer spread far and wide in his life-time. The Emperor
Maximillian I. had a great esteem for him, and appointed him his court
painter, with a liberal pension, and conferred on him letters of
nobility; Charles V., his successor, confirmed him in his office,
bestowing upon him at the same time the painter's coat of arms, viz.,
three escutcheons, argent, in a deep azure field. Ferdinand, King of
Hungary, also bestowed upon him marked favors and liberality. Durer was
in favor with high and low. All the artists and learned men of his time
honored and loved him, and his early death in 1528 was universally


Durer always lived in a frugal manner, without the least ostentation for
the distinguished favors heaped upon him. He applied himself to his
profession with the most constant and untiring industry, which, together
with his great knowledge, great facility of mechanical execution, and a
remarkable talent for imitation, enabled him to rise to such
distinction, and to exert so powerful an influence on German art for a
great length of time. He was the first artist in Germany who practiced
and taught the rules of perspective, and of the proportions of the human
figure, according to mathematical principles. His treatise on
proportions is said to have resulted from his studies of his picture of
Adam and Eve. His principal works are _De Symmetria partium in rectis
formis humanorum corporum_, printed at Nuremberg in 1532; and _De
Verieitate Figurarum, et flexuris partium, et Gestibus Imaginum_; 1534.
These works were written in German, and after Durer's death translated
into Latin. The figures illustrating the subjects were executed by
Durer, on wood, in an admirable manner. Durer had also much merit as a
miscellaneous writer, and labored to purify and elevate the German
language, in which he was assisted by his friend, W. Pirkheimer. His
works were published in a collected form at Arnheim, in 1603, folio, in
Latin and in French. J. J. Roth wrote a life of Durer, published at
Leipsic in 1791.


This eminent painter was born in 1631. His father intended him for the
mercantile profession, but nature for a marine painter. His passion for
art induced him to neglect his employer's business, with whom his father
had placed him, and to spend his time in drawing, and in frequenting the
studios of the painters at Amsterdam. His fondness for shipping led him
frequently to the port of the city, where he made admirable drawings of
the vessels with a pen, which were much sought after by the collectors,
and were purchased at liberal prices. Several of his drawings were sold
at 100 florins each. This success induced him to paint marine subjects.
His first essays were successful, and his pictures universally admired.
While painting, he would not admit his most intimate friends to his
studio, lest his fancy might be disturbed. He hired fishermen to take
him out to sea in the most tremendous gales, and on landing, he would
run impatiently to his palette to secure the grand impressions of the
views he had just witnessed. He has represented that element in its most
terrible agitation, with a fidelity that intimidates the beholder. His
pictures on these subjects have raised his reputation even higher than
that of W. van de Velde; although the works of the later, which
represent the sea at rest, or in light breezes, are much superior, and
indeed inimitable. His pictures are distinguished for their admirable
perspective, correct drawing, neatness and freedom of touch, and
remarkable facility of execution. For the burgomasters of Amsterdam, he
painted a large picture with a multitude of vessels, and a view of the
city in the distance; for which they gave him 1,300 guilders, and a
handsome present. This picture was presented to the King of France, who
placed it in the Louvre. The King of Prussia visited Backhuysen, and the
Czar Peter took delight in seeing him paint, and often endeavored to
make drawings after vessels which the artist had designed.


This eminent Dutch painter was born at Amsterdam in 1621. He possessed
extraordinary and varied talents. He painted history, portraits,
landscapes, sea-ports, animals, and dead game, in all which branches he
showed uncommon ability; but his greatest excellence lay in painting
Italian sea-ports, of a large size, enriched with noble edifices, and
decorated with figures representing embarkations and all the activity of
commercial industry. In these subjects he has scarcely been surpassed
except by his pupil, Nicholas Berghem.


Houbraken relates several instances of his remarkable facility of hand.
He frequently painted a large landscape and inserted all the figures in
a single day--feats so much admired in Salvator Rosa, and Gaspar
Ponssin. On one occasion he commenced and finished three portraits, on
canvass, of three-quarters size, with heads as large as life, from
sun-rise to sun-set, on a summer's day. Lanzi warns all artists,
especially the youthful aspirant, not to imitate such expedition, as
they value their reputation.


Was the son of the preceding, and born at Amsterdam in 1644. Possessing
less varied talent than his father; he was unrivaled in painting all
sorts of animals, huntings, dead games, birds, flowers, and fruit. He
was appointed Court painter to the Elector Palatine, with a liberal
pension, and decorated his palace at Bernsberg with many of his choicest
works. He painted in one gallery a series of pictures representing the
Hunting of the Stag; and in another the Chase of the Wild Boar, which
gained him the greatest applause. There are many of his best works in
the Dusseldorf Gallery. He painted all kinds of birds and fowls in an
inimitable manner; the soft down of the duck, the glossy plumage of the
pigeon, the splendor of the peacock, the magnificent spread of an
inanimate swan producing a flood of light, and serving as a contrast to
all the objects around it, are so attractive that it is impossible to
contemplate one of his pictures of these subjects without feeling
admiration and delight at the painter's skill in rivaling nature.


The life of this extraordinary artist, if we are to believe his
biographers, is soon told. He was born at Leyden in 1636. He early
exhibited a passion for art, which his father, a wealthy brewer of that
city, endeavored to restrain, and afterwards apprehending that he could
not procure a comfortable subsistence by the exercise of his pencil,
established him in his own business at Delft, where, instead of
attending to his affairs, he gave himself up to dissipation, and soon
squandered his means and ruined his establishment; his indulgent parent,
after repeated attempts to reclaim him, was compelled to abandon him to
his fate. He opened a tavern, which proved more calamitous than the
former undertaking. He gave himself up entirely to reveling and
intoxication, wrought only when his necessities compelled him, and sold
his pictures to satisfy his immediate wants, and often for the most
paltry prices to escape arrest.


The pictures of Jan Steen usually represent merry-makings, and the
frolics and festivities of the ale-house, which he treated with a
characteristic expression of humorous drollery, that compensated for
the vulgarity of his subjects. He sometimes painted interiors, domestic
assemblies, conversations, mountebanks, etc., which he generally
accompanied with some facetious trait of wit or humor, admirably
rendered. Some of his works of this description are little inferior to
the charming productions of Gabriel Metzu. His compositions are
ingenious and interesting, his design is correct and spirited, his
coloring chaste and clear, and his pencil free and decided. He also had
a good knowledge of the chiaro-scuro, which enabled him to give his
figures a fine relief. His works are invariably finished with care and
diligence, and do not betray any haste or infirmity of hand or head. It
is evident that, from some untoward circumstance, his works were not
appreciated in his day, but after his death they rose amazingly in
value, and have continued to increase ever since,--a true test of a
master's merit--till now they are scarcely to be found except in royal
and noble collections and the public galleries of Europe. His pictures
were, for a long time, scarcely known out of Holland, but now they are
deservedly placed in the choicest collections. His works are very
numerous, sufficient to have continually occupied the life time of not
only a sober and industrious artist, but one possessing great facility
of hand. Smith, in his Catalogue raisonné, vol. iv. and Supplement,
gives a descriptive account of upwards of 300 genuine pictures by
Steen, many of them compositions of numerous figures, and almost all of
them executed with the greatest care. It cannot be believed that a man
living in a state of continued dissipation and inebriety, could find
time to produce so many admirable works, displaying, as they do, a deep
study of human nature, and a great discrimination of character, or that
the hand of a habitual drunkard could operate with such beauty and
precision. Nor is it probable that a mind besotted by drink, and debased
by low intercourse, could moralize so admirably as he has done on the
evil consequences of intemperance and the indulgence of evil passions.


Dr Kügler, a judicious critic, thus sums up his character as an artist:
"The works of Jan Steen imply a free and cheerful view of common life,
and he treats it with a careless humor, such as seems to deal with all
its daily occurrences, high and low, as a laughable masquerade and a
mere scene of perverse absurdity. His treatment of the subjects differed
essentially from that adopted by other artists. Frequently, indeed, they
are the same jolly drinking parties, or the meetings of boors; but in
other masters the object is, for the most part, to depict a certain
situation, either quiet or animated, whilst in Jan Steen is generally to
be found action more or less developed, together with all the
reciprocal relations and interests between the characters which spring
from it. This is accompanied by great variety and force of individual
expression, such as evinces the sharpest observation. He is almost the
only artist in the Netherlands who has thus, with true genius, brought
into full play all these elements of comedy. His technical execution
suits his design; it is carefully finished, and notwithstanding the
closest attention to minute details, it is as firm and correct as it is
light and free."


Sandrart says that Mieris had a real friendship for Jan Steen, and
delighted in his company, though he was by no means fond of drinking as
freely as Jan was accustomed to do every evening at the tavern.
Notwithstanding this, he often passed whole nights with his friend in a
joyous manner, and frequently returned very late to his lodging. One
evening, when it was very dark and almost midnight, as Mieris strolled
home from the tavern, he unluckily fell into the common sewer, which had
been opened for the purpose of cleansing, and the workmen had left
unguarded. There he must have perished, had not a cobbler and his wife,
who worked in a neighboring stall, heard his cries and instantly ran to
his relief. Having extricated Mieris, they took all possible care of
him, and procured the best refreshment in their power. The next morning
Mieris, having thanked his preservers, took his leave, but particularly
remarked the house, that he might know it another time. The poor people
were totally ignorant of the person whom they had relieved, but Mieris
had too grateful a heart to forget his benefactors, and having painted a
picture in his best manner, he brought it to the cobbler and his wife,
telling them it was a present from the person whose life they had
contributed to save, and desired them to carry it to his friend
Cornelius Plaats, who would give them the full value for it. The woman,
unacquainted with the real worth of the present, concluded she might
receive a moderate gratuity for the picture, but her astonishment was
inexpressible, when she received the sum of eight hundred florins.


This eminent painter was born at Utrecht, in 1519. In 1552, he
accompanied the Cardinal Granville to Spain, who recommended him to the
patronage of the Emperor Charles V., whose portrait he painted, and that
of Prince Philip, which gave so much satisfaction to the monarch, that
he sent him to Portugal, to paint the portraits of King John III.,
Catherine of Austria his Queen, and sister to Charles, and that of their
daughter, the Princess Donna Maria, then contracted to Philip; he also
painted the portrait of Donna Catalina, Charles' younger sister; all of
which gave entire satisfaction, and the artist was munificently
rewarded, and the honor of knighthood conferred on him. The Emperor next
despatched More to England to take the portrait of the princess Mary
previous to her marriage with Philip of Spain. On this occasion, he is
said to have employed all the flattering aids of his art, and so
captivated the courtiers of Spain, with the charms of Mary's person,
that he was employed by Cardinal Granville and several of the grandees
to make copies of it for them. He accompanied Philip to England, where
he remained till the death of Queen Mary, who highly honored him,
presented him a gold chain, and allowed him a pension of £100 a year.
The Emperor Charles V. having abdicated in favor of his son Philip II.,
the latter returned to Spain, and made More his court-painter, where his
talents procured him great respect and abundant employment.


Philip II. was accustomed to honor More by frequent visits to his
studio, on which occasions he treated him with extraordinary
familiarity. One day, in a moment of condescension and admiration, the
monarch jocosely slapped More on the shoulder which compliment the
painter, in an unguarded moment, playfully returned by smearing his hand
with a little carmine from his brush. The King withdrew his hand and
surveyed it for a moment, seriously; the courtiers were petrified with
horror and amazement; the hand to which ladies knelt before they had the
honor to kiss it, had never before been so dishonored since the
foundation of the monarchy; at that moment the fate of More was balanced
on a hair; he saw his rashness, fell on his knees, kissed the King's
feet, and humbly begged pardon for the offence. Philip smiled, and
pardoned him, and all seemed to be well again; but the person of the
King was too sacred in those days, and the act too daring to escape the
notice of the Inquisition, from whose bigotry and vengeance the King
himself could not have shielded him. Happily for More, one of Philip's
ministers advised him of his danger, and without loss of time he set out
for Brussels, upon the feigned pretence of pressing engagements, nor
could Philip ever induce him to return to his court.


More was employed by most of the princes of Europe, who liberally
rewarded him, and at every court his paintings were beheld with
admiration and applause, but at none more than at those of Spain and
England. He acquired an ample fortune. When he was in Portugal, the
nobility of that country, in token of their esteem, presented him, in
the name of their order, a gold chain valued at a thousand ducats. He
closely imitated nature. He designed and painted in a bold, masculine
style, with a rich tone of coloring; he showed a good knowledge of the
chiaro-scuro, and he finished his pictures with neatness and care; his
style is said to resemble that of Hans Holbein, though not possessing
his delicacy and clearness; and there is something dry and hard in his
manner. His talents were not confined to portraits; he painted several
historical subjects in Spain for the Royal Collection, which were highly
applauded, but which were unfortunately destroyed in the conflagration
of the palace of the Prado. While he resided in Spain, he copied some
portraits of illustrious women, in a style said to approach Titian. His
own portrait, painted by himself, charmingly colored, and full of life
and nature, is in the Florentine Gallery. His best work was a picture of
the Circumcision, intended for the Cathedral at Antwerp, but he did not
live to finish it, and died there in 1575.


John Griffier, a Dutch painter of celebrity, went to London in 1667,
where he met with great encouragement. While there he painted many views
on the Thames, and in order to observe nature more attentively, he
bought a yacht, embarked his family, and spent his whole time on the
river. After several years he sailed for Holland in his frail craft but
was wrecked in the Texel, where, after eight days of suffering, he and
his family barely escaped with their lives, having lost all his
paintings, and the fruits of his industry. This mishap cured him of his
passion for the sea.


An amusing anecdote is related of this eminent painter. He was
inordinately given to dissipation, and spent all his money, as fast as
he earned it, in carousing with his boon companions. He was for a long
time in the service of the Marquess de Veren, for whom he executed some
of his most capital works. It happened on one occasion that the Emperor
Charles V. made a visit to the Marquess, who made magnificent
preparations for his reception, and among other things ordered all his
household to be dressed in white damask. When the tailor came to measure
Mabuse, he desired to have the damask, under the pretence of inventing a
singular habit. He sold it immediately, spent the money, and then
painted a paper suit, so like damask that it was not distinguished as he
walked in procession between a philosopher and a poet, other pensioners
of the Marquess; but the joke was too good to be kept, so his friends
betrayed him to the Marquess, who, instead of being displeased was
highly diverted, and asked the Emperor which of the three suits he liked
best. The Emperor pointed to that of Mabuse, as excelling in whiteness
and beauty of the flowers; and when he was told of the painter's
stratagem, he would not believe it, till he had examined it with his own


Lanzi relates the following amusing anecdote of Giovanni da Capugnano,
an artist of little merit, but whose assurance enabled him to attract
considerable attention in his day. "Misled by a pleasing self-delusion,
he believed himself born to become a painter; like that ancient
personage, mentioned by Horace, who imagined himself the owner of all
the vessels that arrived in the Athenian port. His chief talent lay in
making crucifixes, to fill up the angles, and in giving a varnish to the
balustrades. Next, he attempted landscape in water-colors, in which were
exhibited the most strange proportions; of houses less than the men;
these last smaller than his sheep; and the sheep again than his birds.
Extolled, however, in his own district, he determined to leave his
native mountains, and figure on a wider theatre at Bologna; there he
opened his house, and requested the Caracci, the only artists he
believed to be more learned than himself, to furnish him with a pupil,
whom he intended to polish in his studio. Lionello Spada, an admirable
wit, accepted this invitation; he went and copied designs, affecting the
utmost obsequiousness towards his master. At length, conceiving it time
to put an end to the jest, he left behind him a most exquisite painting
of Lucretia, and over the entrance of the chamber some fine satirical
octaves, in apparent praise, but real ridicule of Capugnano. His worthy
master only accused Lionello of ingratitude, for having acquired from
him in so short a space the art of painting so beautifully from his
designs; but the Caracci at last acquainted him with the joke, which
acted as a complete antidote to his folly."


Caravaggio possessed a very irascible and roving disposition. At the
height of his popularity at Rome, he got into a quarrel with one of his
own young friends, in a tennis-court, and struck him dead with a racket,
having been severely wounded himself in the affray. He fled to Naples,
where he executed some of his finest pictures, but he soon got weary of
his residence there, and went to Malta. Here his superb picture of the
Grand Master obtained for him the Cross of Malta, a rich gold chain,
placed on his neck by the Grand Master's own hands, and two slaves to
attend him. All these honors did not prevent the new knight from falling
back into old habits. "_Il suo torbido ingegno_," says Bellori, plunged
him into new difficulties; he fought and wounded a noble cavalier, was
thrown into prison, from which he escaped almost by a miracle, and fled
to Syracuse, where he obtained the favor of the Syracusans by painting a
splendid picture of the Santa Morte, for the church of S. Lucia. In
apprehension of being taken by the Knights of Malta, he soon fled to
Messina, thence to Palermo, and returned to Naples, where hopes were
held out to him of the Pope's pardon. Here he got into a quarrel with
some military men in a public house, was wounded, and took refuge on
board a felucca, about to sail for Rome. Stopping at a small port on the
way, he was arrested by a Spanish guard, by mistake, for another person;
when released, he found the felucca gone, and in it all his property.
Traversing the burning shore, under an almost vertical sun, he was
seized with a brain fever, and continued to wander through the Pontine
Marshes till he arrived at Porto Ercoli, when he expired, aged forty


Giacomo Amiconi, a Venetian painter, went to England, in 1729, where he
was first employed by Lord Tankerville to paint the staircase of his
palace in St. James' Square. He there represented the stories of
Achilles, Telemachus and Tiresias, which gained him great applause. When
he was to be paid, he produced his bills of the workmen for scaffolding,
materials, &c., amounting to £90, and asked no more, saying that he was
content with the opportunity of showing what he could do. The peer,
however, gave him £200 more. This brought him into notice, and he was
much employed by the nobility to decorate their houses.


Giovanni Baptista Gaulli, called Baciccio, one of the most eminent
Genoese painters, was no less celebrated for portraits than for history.
Pascoli says he painted no less than seven different Pontiffs, besides
many illustrious personages. Possessing great colloquial powers, he
engaged his sitters in the most animated conversation, and thus
transferred their features to his canvas, so full of life and
expression, that they looked as though they were about to speak to the
beholder. He also had a remarkable talent of painting the dead, so as to
obtain an exact resemblance of deceased persons whom he had never seen.
For this purpose, he drew a face at random, afterwards altering it in
every feature, by the advice and under the inspection of those who had
known the original, till he had improved it to a striking likeness.


This eminent painter was born at San Angiolo, in the Duchy of Urbino, in
1529. At a very early age he evinced a passion for art and a precocious
genius. After having received instruction from his father, a painter of
little note, his extraordinary enthusiasm induced him, at fourteen years
of age, to go to Rome, without a penny in his pocket, where he passed
the day in designing, from the works of Raffaelle. Such was his poverty,
that he was compelled to sleep under the loggie of the Chigi palace; he
contrived to get money enough barely to supply the wants of nature, by
grinding colors for the shops. Undaunted by difficulties that would have
driven a less devoted lover of the art from the field, he pursued his
studies with undiminished ardor, till his talents and industry attracted
the notice of Daniello da Por, an artist then in repute, who generously
relieved his wants and gave him instruction. From that time he made
rapid progress, and soon acquired a distinguished reputation, but he
died at Rome in 1566, in the prime of life.


Federigo Zuccaro, the brother of Taddeo, was employed by Pope Gregory
XIII. in the Pauline chapel. While proceeding with his work, however, he
fell out with some of the Pope's officers; and conceiving himself
treated with indignity, he painted an allegorical picture of Calumny,
introducing the portraits of all those individuals who had offended him,
decorated with asses' ears. This he caused to be exhibited publicly over
the gate of St. Luke's church, on the festival day of that Saint. His
enemies, upon this, made such complaints that he was forced to fly from
Rome, and passing into France, he visited Flanders and England. As soon
as the pontiff was appeased, he returned to Rome, and completed his work
in the Pauline chapel, fortunate in not losing his head as the price of
such a daring exploit.


Federigo Zuccaro was invited to Madrid by Philip II. to execute some
frescos in the lower cloister of the Escurial, which, failing to give
satisfaction to his royal patron, were subsequently effaced, and their
place supplied by Pellegrino Tibaldi; the king nevertheless munificently
rewarded him. One day, as he was displaying a picture of the Nativity,
which he had painted for the great altar of the Escurial, for the
inspection of the monarch, he said, "Sire, you now behold all that art
can execute; beyond this which I have done, the powers of painting
cannot go." The king was silent for some time; his countenance betrayed
neither approbation nor contempt; at last, preserving the same
indifference, he quietly asked the painter what _those things_ were in
the basket of one of the shepherds in the act of running? He replied
they were eggs. "It is well then, that he did not break them," said the
king, as he turned on his way--a just rebuke for such fulsome


The name of this illustrious painter and architect was Berrettini, and
he was born at Cortona, near Florence, in 1596. At the age of fourteen
he went to Rome, where he studied the works of Raffaelle and Caravaggio
with the greatest assiduity. It is said that at first he betrayed but
little talent for painting, but his genius burst forth suddenly, to the
astonishment of those companions who had laughed at his incapacity; this
doubtless was owing to his previous thorough course of study. While yet
young, he painted two pictures for the Cardinal Sacchetti, representing
the Rape of the Sabines, and a Battle of Alexander, which gained him so
much celebrity that Pope Urban VIII. commissioned him to paint a chapel
in the church of S. Bibiena, where Ciampelli was employed. The latter at
first regarded with contempt the audacity of so young a man's daring to
attempt so important a public work, but Cortona had no sooner commenced
than Ciampelli's disgust changed to admiration of his abilities. His
success in this performance gained him the celebrated work of the
ceiling of the grand saloon in the Barberini palace, which is considered
one of the greatest productions of the kind ever executed. Cortona was
invited to Florence by the Grand Duke Ferdinand II., to paint the saloon
and four apartments in the Pitti palace, where he represented the
Clemency of Alexander to the family of Darius, the Firmness of Porsena,
the Continence of Cyrus, the History of Massanissa, and other subjects.
While thus employed, the Duke, one day, having expressed his admiration
of a weeping child which he had just painted, Cortona with a single
stroke of his pencil made it appear laughing, and with another restored
it to its former state; "Prince," said he, "you see how easily children
laugh and cry." Disgusted with the intrigues of some artists jealous of
his reputation, he left Florence abruptly, without completing his works,
and the Grand Duke could never persuade him to return. On his return to
Rome, he abounded with commissions, and Pope Alexander VII. honored him
with the order of the Golden Spur. Cortona was also distinguished as an
architect. He made a design for the Palace of the Louvre, which was so
highly approved by Louis XIV. that he sent him his picture richly set in
jewels. Cortona was a laborious artist, and though tormented with the
gout, and in affluent circumstances, he continued to paint till his
death, in 1699.


Mario Ballassi, a Florentine painter born in 1604, studied successively
under Ligozzi, Roselli, and Passignano; he assisted the latter in the
works he executed at Rome for Pope Urban XIII. His chief talent lay in
copying the works of the great masters, which he did to admiration. Don
Taddeo Barberini employed him to copy the Transfiguration of Raffaelle,
for the Church of the Conception, in which he imitated the touch and
expression of the original in so excellent a manner as to excite the
surprise of the best judges at Rome. At the recommendation of the
Cardinal Piccolomini, he was introduced to the Emperor Ferdinand III.,
who received him in an honorable manner. Elated with his success, he
vainly imagined that if he could imitate the old masters, he could also
equal them in an original style of his own. He signally failed in the
attempt, which brought him into as much contempt as his former works had
gained him approbation.


This eminent sculptor and famous medalist was in high favor with Clement
VII., who took him into his service. During the time of the Spanish
invasion, Cellini asked the Pope for absolution for certain homicides
which "he believed himself to have committed in the service of the
church." The Pope absolved him, and, to save time, he added an
absolution in _prospectu_, "for all the homicides thereafter which the
said Benvenuto might commit in the same service." On another occasion,
Cellini got into a broil, and committed a homicide that was not in the
service of the church. The friends of the deceased insisted upon condign
punishment, and presumed to make some mention to the Pope about "the
laws;" upon which the successor of St. Peter, knowing that it was easier
to hang than to replace such a man, assumed a high tone, and told the
complainants that "men who were masters of their art should not be
subject to the laws."


The first accents of the "thrilling melody of sweet renown" which ever
vibrated to the heart of Salvator Rosa, came to his ear from the
kind-hearted Fracanzani, his sister's husband, and a painter of merit.
When Salvator returned home from his sketching tours among the
mountains, Fracanzani would examine his drawings, and when he saw
anything good, he would smilingly pat him on the head and exclaim,
"Fruscia, fruscia, Salvatoriello--che va buono" (_Go on, go on,
Salvator--this is good_). These simple plaudits were recalled to his
memory with pleasure, in after years, when his fame rung among the
polished circles at Rome and Florence.


When the Cardinal Barberini, who had been the warm friend, patron, and
protector of Bernini, was elevated to the pontificate, the latter went
to offer his congratulations to his benefactor. The Pope received him in
the most gracious manner, uttering these memorable words, "E gran
fortuna la vostra, Bernini, di vedere Papa, il Card. Maffeo Barberini;
ma assai maggiore è la nostra, che il Cav. Bernini viva nel nostro
pontificato;" (_It is a great piece of fortune for you, Bernini, to
behold the Cardinal Maffeo Barberini Pope; but how much greater is ours,
that the Cav. Bernini lives in our pontificate;_) and he immediately
charged him with the execution of those great works which have
immortalized both their names. Among the great works which he executed
in this pontificate are the Baldachin, or great altar of St. Peter's, in
bronze and gilt, under the centre of the great dome; the four colossal
statues which fill the niches under the pedatives; the pulpit and canopy
of St. Peter's; the Campanile; and the Barberini palace. For these
services, the Pope gave Bernini 10,000 crowns, besides his monthly
salary of 300, which he increased, and extended his favors to his
brothers--"a grand piece of fortune," truly.


Emulation carries with it neither envy nor unfair rivalry, but inspires
a man to surpass all others by superiority alone. Such was the emulation
and rivalry between Zeuxis and Parrhasius, which contributed to the
improvement of both; and similar thereto was that which inspired the
master-minds of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle; of Titian and Pordenone;
of Albert Durer and Lucas van Leyden; of Agostino and Annibale Caracci;
and we may add, in our own country, of Thomas Cole and Durand. The
emulation between the Caracci, though it tended to the improvement of
both, was more unfortunate in its result, as it finally engendered such
a bitter rivalry as to drive Agostino from the field, and it is said by
some that both the Caracci declined when their competition ceased.

The confraternity of the Chartreuse at Bologna proposed to the artists
of Italy to paint a picture for them in competition, and to send designs
for selection. The Caracci were among the competitors, and the design of
Agostino was preferred before all others; this, according to several
authors, first gave rise to the jealousy between the two brothers. The
picture which Agostino painted was his celebrated Communion of St.
Jerome which Napoleon placed in the Louvre, but is now in the gallery at
Bologna. It is esteemed the masterpiece of the artist. It represents the
venerable saint, carried to the church of Bethlehem on his approaching
dissolution, where he receives the last sacrament of the Roman Church,
the Viaticum, in the midst of his disciples, while a monk writes down
his pious exhortations. Soon after the completion of this sublime
picture, the two brothers commenced the celebrated Farnese Gallery in
conjunction; but the jealous feelings which existed between them caused
continual dissentions, and the turbulent disposition of Annibale
compelled Agostino to abandon him and quit Rome. Agostino, who according
to all authorities was the best tempered of the two, from that time gave
himself up almost entirely to engraving. Annibale, though he has the
honor of having executed the immortal works in the Farnese Gallery, yet
owed much there, as elsewhere, to the acquirements and poetical genius
of Agostino. In the composition of such mythological subjects the
unlettered Annibale was totally inadequate. See vol. i., page
71 of this work.


This wonderful picture is one of the most singular and beautiful works
of that great master. Adopting an idea till then unknown to painters, he
has created a new principle of light and shade; and in the limited space
of nine feet by six, has expanded a breadth and depth of perspective
which defies description. The subject he has chosen, is the adoration of
the shepherds, who, after hearing the glad tidings of joy and salvation,
proclaimed by the heavenly host, hasten to hail the new-born King and
Saviour. On so unpromising a subject as the birth of a child, in so mean
a place as a stable, the painter has, however, thrown the air of
divinity itself. The principal light emanates from the body of the
infant, and illuminates the surrounding objects; but a secondary light
is borrowed from a group of angels above, which, while it aids the
general effect, is yet itself irradiated by the glory breaking from the
child, and allegorizing the expression of scripture, that Christ is the
true light of the world. Nor is the art, with which the figures are
represented less admirable than the management of the light. The face of
the child is skillfully hidden, by its oblique position, from the
conviction that the features of a new-born infant are ill-adapted to
please the eye; but that of the Virgin is warmly irradiated, and yet so
disposed, that in bending with maternal fondness over her offspring, it
exhibits exquisite beauty, without the harshness of deep shadows. The
light strikes boldly on the lower part of her face, and is lost in a
fainter glow on the eyes, while the forehead is thrown into shade. The
figures of Joseph and the shepherds are traced with the same skillful
pencil; and the glow which illuminates the piece is heightened to the
imagination, by the attitude of a shepherdess, bringing an offering of
doves, who shades her eyes with her hand, as if unable to sustain the
brightness of incarnate divinity. The glimmering of the rising dawn,
which shews the figures in the background, contributes to augment the
splendor of the principal glory. "The beauty, grace, and finish of the
piece," says Mengs, "are admirable, and every part is executed in a
peculiar and appropriate style."

Opie, in his lectures, speaking of this work, justly observes, "In the
Nótte, where the light diffused over the piece emanates from the child,
he has embodied a thought at once beautiful, picturesque, and sublime;
an idea which has been seized upon with such avidity, and produced so
many imitations that no one is accused of plagiarism. The real author is
forgotten, and the public accustomed to consider this incident as
naturally a part of the subject, have long ceased to inquire, when, or
by whom, it was invented."

The history of this picture is curious, though involved in much
obscurity. It is generally stated that while Correggio was engaged upon
the grand cupola at Parma, he generally passed the colder season, when
he could not work in fresco, in his native place. Passing through Reggio
in one of his journeys, he received a commission from Alberto Pratonero
for an altar-piece of the Nativity, which produced one of his finest
pictures, now called La Nótte. The indefatigable Tiraboschi discovered
the original contract for the work, which is dated October 14th, 1522,
and fixes the price at two hundred and eight _livre di moneta Vecchia_,
or forty-seven and a half gold ducats (about $104). It was painted for
the Pratoneri chapel in the church of S. Prospero at Reggio, but it was
not fixed in its destined place till 1530. It is said that it was
removed surreptitiously by order of Francesco I., the reigning Duke of
Modena, who substituted a copy. The same story, however, is related of
Correggio's Ancona, painted for the church of the Conventuals at
Correggio. (See vol. ii., page 257, of this work.) At all events,
the elector of Saxony subsequently purchased this gem, with
other valuable pictures, from the Ducal Gallery at Mantua, and it now
forms one of the principal ornaments of the Dresden Gallery.


The Gallery of Dresden is well known to most amateurs from the
engravings which have been made of many of its most capital pictures. In
the works of Correggio it stands preëminent above all others; and
although some of these have suffered by injudicious cleaning, still they
are by Correggio. In the works of Titian, Raffaelle, Lionardo da Vinci,
Parmiggiano, Andrea del Sarto, the Caracci, Guido, &c., it holds also a
high place; while it is rich in the works of the Flemish and Dutch
masters. Of the works of Reubens there are, 30; of Vandyck, 18; of
Rembrandt, 15; of Paul Potter, 3; of David Teniers, jun., 24; of Philip
Wouvermans, 52; of Adrian Ostade, 6; of Gerard Douw, 16; of Francis
Mieris, 14; of Gabriel Metzu, 6; of Berghem, 9; of Adrian van de Velde,
5; of Ruysdael, 13; and others by the Dutch masters. Tho entire
collection contains 1010 Flemish and Dutch pictures, and 350 pictures of
the Italian schools, the principal part of which, particularly the
pictures of Correggio, etc., belonged formerly to the Mantua
collection, and were purchased by the Elector Augustus III., afterwards
King of Poland.


The antiquity of painting, as well as of sculpture, among the Egyptians,
is sunk in fable. Yet it is certain that they made little or no progress
in either art. Plato, who flourished about 400 B.C., says that the art
of painting had been practiced by the Egyptians upwards of ten thousand
years, and that there were existing in that country paintings of that
high antiquity, which were neither inferior to, nor very different from,
those executed by the Egyptian artists in his own time.

Before the French expedition to Egypt, a great deal had been written on
the subject of Egyptian art, without eliciting anything satisfactory.
Norden, Pococke, Bruce, and other modern travelers, speak of
extraordinary paintings found on the walls of the temples and in the
tombs at Thebes, Denderah, and other places in Upper Egypt; and
Winckelmann justly regrets that those curious remains had not been
visited by artists or persons skilled in works of art, "by whose
testimony we might have been correctly informed of their character,
style, and manoeuvre." The man at last came, and Denon, in his _Voyage
dans le Basse et Haute Egypt_, has set the matter at rest. He has given
a curious and interesting account of the paintings at Thebes, which he
reports to be as fresh in color as when they were first executed. The
design is in general stiff and incorrect; and whatever attitude is given
to the figure, the head is always in profile. The colors are entire,
without blending or degradation, as in playing cards, and the whole
exhibits the art in a very rude state. They exhibit little or no
knowledge of anatomy. The colors they used were confined to four--blue,
red, yellow, and green; and of these, the blue and red predominate. The
perfect preservation of the Egyptian paintings for so many ages is to be
attributed to the dryness of a climate where it never rains.

The Egyptian painters and sculptors designed their figures in a style
peculiarly stiff and formal, with the legs invariably closed, except in
some instances in the tombs of the Kings at Thebes, and their arms stuck
to their sides, as if they had consulted no other models than their
bandaged mummies. The reasons why the Egyptians never made any progress
in art till the time of the Greco-Egyptian kings, were their manners and
customs, which prohibited any innovations, and compelled every one to
follow the beaten track of his cast, without the least deviation from
established rules, thus chaining down genius, and the stimulus of
emulation, honor, renown and reward. When Egypt passed under the
dominion of the Ptolemys, she made rapid progress in art, and produced
some excellent painters, sculptors, and architects, though doubtless
they were mostly of Greek origin. It is related of Ptolemy Philopator,
that he sent a hundred architects to rebuild Rhodes, when it was
destroyed by an earthquake. See vol. iii., page 1, of this work.


The origin of Painting in Greece was unknown to Pliny, to whom we are
chiefly indebted for the few fragments of the biography of Greek
artists; he could only obtain his information from Greek writers, of
whom he complains that they have not been very attentive to their
accustomed accuracy. It is certain, however, that the arts were
practiced in Egypt and in the East, many ages before they were known in
Greece, and it is the common opinion that they were introduced into that
country from Egypt and Asia, through the channel of the Phoenecian
traders. It has been a matter of admiration that the Greeks, in the
course of three or four centuries, should have attained such perfection
in every species of art that ennobles the human mind, as oratory,
poetry, music, painting, sculpture, and architecture. Two things explain
the cause--freedom of action, and certainty of reward. This is
exemplified in the whole history of the arts and sciences. The ancient
eastern nations, among whom the freedom of thought and action was
forbidden, and every man obliged to follow the trade of his caste, never
made any progress; nor will the moderns progress in those countries
till caste is done away, and every man allowed to follow the
inclinations of his genius.

The Greeks were favored with a climate the most congenial for the
perfect development of the mental and physical powers, and beauty of
form. Every man was at liberty freely to follow his favorite pursuits.
They rewarded all who excelled in anything that was useful or beautiful,
and that with a lavish hand. The prices they paid their great artists
were truly astonishing; in comparison to which, the prices paid to the
greatest artists of modern times are small. Nor was this so great an
incentive as the admiration and the caresses they received. The man of
genius was sure of immortality and wealth. Their academic groves and
their games were the admiration and resort of all the surrounding
countries. They decreed statues to their great men who deserved well of
their country. To other powerful incentives, the Greek artists had the
advantage of the best models before them, in their gymnastic exercises
and public games, where the youth contended for the prize quite naked.
The Greeks esteemed natural qualities so highly that they decreed the
first rewards to those who distinguished themselves in feats of agility
and strength. Statues were often raised to wrestlers. Not only the first
youth of Greece, but the sons of kings and princes sought renown in the
public games and gymnastic exercises. Chrysippus and Cleanthus
distinguished themselves in these games before they were known as
philosophers. Plato appeared as a wrestler both at the Isthmian and
Pythian games; and Pythagoras carried off the prize at Elis. The passion
which inspired them was glory--the ambition of having statues erected to
their memory, in the most sacred place in Greece, to be admired by the
whole people.

Although it is universally admitted that the Greeks carried sculpture
and architecture to such a state of perfection that they have never been
equalled by the moderns, except in imitating them, yet there is a great
contrariety of opinion among the most eminent modern writers as to their
success in painting; some, full of admiration for the works of antiquity
which have descended to us, have not hesitated to declare that the
Greeks must have been equally successful in painting, while others,
professing that we possess colors, vehicles, and science (as the
knowledge of foreshortening, perspective, and of the chiaro-scuro)
unknown to them, have as roundly asserted that they were far inferior to
the moderns in this branch, and that their pictures, could we now see
them in all their beauty, would excite our contempt. Much of this
boasted modern knowledge is, however, entirely gratuitous; the Greeks
certainly well understood foreshortening and perspective, as we have
abundance of evidence in their works, to say nothing of these being
expressly mentioned by Pliny, and that it is impossible to execute any
work of excellence without them. This erroneous opinion has sprung from
the ignorance and imperfections of _the old fathers_ of Italian art in
these particulars, and the discoveries and perfections of those more
modern. If the moderns possess any advantages over the ancients, it is
that chemistry has invented some beautiful colors unknown to them, the
invention of oil painting, and that illusion which results from a
perfect acquaintance with the principles of the chiaro-scuro; but even
here the mineral colors--the most valuable and permanent--were well
known to them; and if they had not oil colors, they had a method of
_encaustic painting_ not positively known to us, which might have
answered as good a purpose--nor are we sure they did not practice the
chiaro-scuro. Besides, the most renowned modern masters were more
celebrated in fresco than in oil painting, and the ancients well
understood painting in fresco.

In this, as in most other disputes, it may reasonably be presumed, that
a just estimation of both will be found between the extremes. In
comparing the paintings of the moderns with those of the ancients, it
may be fairly inferred that the latter surpassed the former in
expression, in purity of design, in attitude of the figures, and in
ideal beauty. The moderns have doubtless surpassed the ancients in the
arrangement of their groups, in perspective, foreshortening and
chiaro-scuro--and in coloring. For a further disquisition on this
subject, see Vol. I. p. 22, of this work, article Apelles.


Numismatics is the science which has for its object the study of coins
and medals, especially those struck by the ancient Greeks and Romans.
The word is derived from the Greek [Greek: nomisma], or the Latin
_numus_, _coin or medal_. Numismatics is now regarded as indispensable
to archæology, and to a thorough acquaintance of the fine arts; it is
also of great assistance in philology and the explanation of the ancient
classics; it appears to have been entirely unknown to the ancients, but
since the middle of the sixteenth century, it has occupied the attention
of many learned men.

The name of _coins_ is given to pieces of metal, on which the public
authority has impressed different marks to indicate their weight and
value, to make them a convenient medium of exchange. By the word
_medals_, when used in reference to modern times, is understood pieces
of metal similar to coins but not intended as a medium of exchange, but
struck and distributed to commemorate some important event, or in memory
of some distinguished personage. The name of medals, however, is also
given to all pieces of money which have remained from ancient times. The
term _medallion_ is given to medals of a very large size, many of them
being several inches in diameter. The parts of a coin or medal are the
two sides; first, the _obverse_ side, face or head, which contains the
portrait of the person at whose command or in whose honor it was
struck, or other figures relating to him: this portrait consists either
of the head alone, or the bust, half length, or full figure; second, the
_reverse_ contains mythological, allegorical, or historical figures. The
words around the border form the _legend_, and those in the middle the
_inscription_. The lower part of the coin, which is separated by a line
from the figures or the inscription, is the _basis_ or _exergue_, and
contains subsidiary matter, as the date, the place where the piece was
struck, etc.

Numismatics has the same divisions as history.--Ancient Numismatics
extends to the extinction of the empire of the West; the Numismatics of
the middle ages commences with Charlemagne; and modern Numismatics with
the revival of learning.

Medals indicate the names of provinces and cities, determine their
position, and present pictures of many celebrated places. They fix the
period of events, frequently determine their character, and enable us to
trace the series of kings. They also enable us to learn the different
metallurgical processes, the different alloys, the modes of gilding and
plating practiced by the ancients, the metals which they used, their
weight and measures, their different modes of reckoning, the names and
titles of the various kings and magistrates, and also their portraits,
their different divinities, with their attributes and titles, the
utensils and ceremonies of their worship, the costume of their
priests--in fine, everything which relates to their usages, civil,
military, and religious. Medals also acquaint us with the history of
art. They contain representations of several celebrated works of
antiquity which have been lost, the value of which may be estimated from
the ancient medals of those still existing, as the Farnese Hercules,
Niobe and her Children, the Venus of Gnidos, etc. Like gems and statues,
they enable us to trace the epochs of different styles of art, to
ascertain its progress among the most civilized nations, and its
condition among the rude.

The ancient medals were struck or cast; some were first cast and then
struck. The first coins of Rome and other cities of Italy must have been
cast, as the hammer could not have produced so bold a relief. The copper
coins of Egypt were cast. The right of coining money has always been one
of the privileges which rulers have confined to themselves. The free
cities have inscribed only their names on their coins. The cities
subject to kings sometimes obtained permission to strike money in their
own name, but were most frequently required to add the name or image of
the king to whom they were subject. The medals of the Parthians and the
Phoenecians offer many examples of this sort. Rome, under the
republic, allowed no individual the right to coin money; no magistrate
could put his name thereon, though this honor was sometimes allowed, as
a special favor, by a decree of the Senate. We can count as numismatic
countries only those into which the Greeks and Romans carried the use
of money; though some of the oriental nations used gold and silver as a
medium of exchange, before their time it was by weight. The people in
the northern part of Europe had no money.

The coins preserved from antiquity are estimated to be more numerous
than those we possess from the middle ages, in the proportion of a
hundred to one! Millin thinks that the number of extant ancient medals
amounts to 70,000! What a fund of the most curious and authentic
information do they contain, and what a multitude of errors have been
corrected by their means! There are valuable cabinets of medals in all
the principal cities of Europe; that of Paris is by far the richest;
Pillerin alone added to it 33,000 ancient coins and medals. The coins of
the kings of Macedon are the most ancient of any yet discovered having
portraits; and Alexander I., who commenced his reign about B.C. 500, is
the earliest monarch whose medals have yet been found. Then succeed the
sovereigns who reigned in Sicily, Caria, Cyprus, Heraclea, and Pontus.
Afterwards comes the series of kings of Egypt, Syria, the Cimmerian
Bosphorus, Thrace, Parthia, Armenia, Damascus, Cappadocia, Paphlagonia,
Pergamos, Galatia, Cilicia, Sparta Pæonia, Epirus, Illyricum, Gaul, and
the Alps. This series reaches from the time of Alexander the Great to
the Christian Era, comprising a period of about 330 years. A perfect
and distinct series is formed by the Roman emperors, from the time of
Julius Cæsar to the destruction of the empire, and even still later. The
Grecian medals claim that place in a cabinet, from their antiquity,
which their workmanship might ensure them, independently of that
advantageous consideration. It is observed by Pinkerton, that an immense
number of the medals of cities, which, from their character, we might
judge to be of the highest antiquity, have a surprising strength,
beauty, and relief in their impressions. About the time of Alexander the
Great, this art appears to have attained its highest perfection. The
coins of Alexander and his father exceed in beauty all that were ever
executed, if we except those of Sicily, Magna Grecia, and the ancient
ones of Asia Minor. Sicilian medals are famous for workmanship, even
from the time of Gelo. The coins of the Syrian kings, successors to
Alexander, almost equal his own in beauty; but adequate judges confine
their high praises of the Greek mint to those coins struck before the
subjection of Greece to the Roman empire. The Roman coins, considered as
medals in a cabinet, may be divided into two great classes--the consular
and the imperial; both are numerous and valuable. In the cabinet of the
Grand Duke of Tuscany is a set of twelve medals of Antonius Pius, each
with one of the signs of the Zodiac on the reverse, and part of another
set, eight in number with as many of the labors of Hercules.


As in comparative anatomy it is easy, from a single bone, to designate
and describe the animal to which it belonged, so in architecture it is
easy to restore, by a few fragments, any ancient building. In
consequence of the known simplicity and regularity of most antique
edifices, the task of restoration, by means of drawings and models, is
much less difficult than might be supposed. The ground work, or some
sufficient parts of it, commonly extant, shows the length and breadth of
the building, with the positions of the walls, doors and columns. A
single column, or part of a column, whether standing or fallen, with a
fragment of the entablature, furnishes data from which the remainder of
the colonnade and the height of the edifice can be made out. A single
stone from the cornice of the pediment, is sufficient to give the angle
of inclination, and consequently the height of the roof. In this way the
structure of many beautiful edifices has been accurately determined,
when in so ruinous a state as scarcely to have left one stone upon


Napoleon was not only a true lover of art, but an excellent connoisseur.
He did more to elevate the arts and sciences in France than all the
monarchs together who had preceded him. It was a part of his policy to
honor and reward every man of genius, no matter what his origin, and
thus to develop the intellect of his country. He foresaw the advantage
of making Paris the great centre of art; therefore he did not hesitate
to transport from the countries he conquered, the most renowned and
valuable works of ancient and modern times. "Paris is Rome; Paris is now
the great centre of art," said he to Canova in 1810, when that great
sculptor visited Paris at his command, and whom he endeavored to
persuade to permanently remain in his service. West, after his return to
England from Paris, where he had had several interviews with Bonaparte,
expressed his admiration of the man in such warm terms as offended the
officials of the government, and caused such opposition, that he deemed
it proper to resign the President's chair in the Royal Academy. The
truth is, it was not the conqueror, as the English pretended, but his
exalted ideas of the arts, and of their value to a country, which
captivated West, whose peaceful tenets led him to abhor war and

Napoleon's enlightened policy is also seen in those stupendous works
published by the French government, as the _Description de l'Egypte, ou
Recueil des Observationes et des Recherches pendant l'Expedition de
l'Armée Français_, 25 vols. in elephant folio. This work corresponds in
grandeur of its proportions to the edifices and monuments which it
describes. Everything that zeal in the cause of science, combined with
the most extensive knowledge, had been able to collect in a land
abounding in monuments of every kind, and in the rarest curiosities, is
described and illustrated in this work by a committee of savans
appointed for the purpose. It contains more than 900 engravings, and
3000 illustrative sketches. The Musée Français, and the Musée Royal,
containing 522 plates, after the gems of the world, are not less grand
and magnificent, and far more valuable contributions to art. These will
be described in a subsequent page. Such was Napoleon; deprive him of
every other glory, his love of art, and what he did for its promotion,
and the adornment of his country, would immortalize his name.

Napoleon delighted to spend some of his leisure moments in contemplating
the master pieces of art which he had gathered in the Louvre, and that
he might go there when he pleased, without parade, he had a private
gallery constructed leading to that edifice from the Tuilleries. (See
Spooner's Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects,
articles West, David, Denon, Canova, etc., and vol i., page
8, of this work.)


"The emperor was, most indisputably, the monarch who contributed in the
greatest degree to the embellishment of Paris. How many establishments
originated under his reign! nevertheless, on beholding them, the
observer has but a faint idea of all he achieved; since every principal
city of the empire witnessed alike the effects of his munificence and
grandeur of mind; the streets were widened, roads constructed and canals
cut; even the smallest towns experienced improvements, the result of
that expanded genius which was daily manifested. I shall, therefore,
content myself by placing before the reader a mere sketch of the works
achieved at Paris; for were it requisite to give a catalogue of all the
monuments erected during his reign, throughout the French empire, a
series of volumes would be required to commemorate those multifarious


The Louvre was completely restored, which a succession of French
monarchs had not been able to accomplish. The Palace of the Luxembourg
equally embellished throughout, as well in the interior as the exterior,
and its gardens replanted. The Exchange founded. The Palace of the
University reconstructed, as well as the Gallery uniting the Palace of
the Tuilleries to that of the Louvre.


The situation of the Fountain of the Innocents changed, and the whole
reërected; that of Saint Sulpicius; of the Four Nations; of Desaix in
the Place Dauphine; of Gros-Caillon; of the Quay de L'Ecole; of the
Bridge of Saint Eustatius; of the Rue Ceusder; of the Rue Popincourt; of
the Chateau D'Eau; of the Square of the Chatelet; of the Place Notre
Dame; of the Temple; and of the Elephant, in the Place of the Bastille.


The subterranean acqueducts were constructed, which convey the water of
the Canal de L'Ourcq throughout the different quarters of Paris, from
whence a vast number of small fountains distribute them in every
direction, to refresh the streets during the summer season, and to
cleanse them in the winter; these same channels being also formed to
receive the waters which flow from the gutters in the streets.


That of the Innocents, the largest in Paris; the Jacobins, where
formerly stood the monastery of that name, and during the heat of the
revolution, the club so called; the Valley for the sale of Poultry; the
Market of Saint Joseph; the Halle for the sale of Wines; the Market of
Saint Martin; that of Saint Germain, and of Saint Jacques-la-Boucherie.

_Slaughter Houses._

Those of the Deux Moulins; of the Invalids; of Popincourt; of Miromeuil,
and of Les Martyrs.

As the killing of animals, for the consumption of Paris, within the
confines of the city, was deemed not only unwholesome, but very
disgusting, these buildings were erected by order of Napoleon, and have
proved of the greatest utility. The edifices are very spacious,
containing all the requisites for the purpose intended, and being also
placed in different directions and without the barriers of the city, the
eyes of the inhabitants are no longer disgusted by beholding those
torrents of blood which formerly inundated the streets, and which, in
the summer season, produced an effluvia not only disgusting to the
smell, but highly detrimental to the health of the population of the

_Watering Places for Animals._

That of the School of Medicine, a superb marble structure, together with
the Abreuvoir of the Rue L'Egout, Saint Germain.

_Public Granary, or Halle du Blé._

Necessity gave rise to the noble plan of this stupendous fabric, the
idea of which was taken from the people of antiquity.


That called Bourdon was formed, occupying the environs of the spot where
the Bastille stood.


Those of the Arts; of the City; of Austerlitz; and of Jena.

_Triumphal Arches._

The Carousel; the Etoile; and the Arch of Louis XIV., restored.


Those of Napoleon; of Flowers; of Morland; and of Caténat.

_The Column of Austerlitz._

Situated in the centre of the Place Vendôme, formed of the brass
produced from the cannon which were taken from the Austrians during the
memorable campaign of 1805.

_Place de Victoires._

In the middle of this square was erected a colossal bronze statue of the
gallant General Desaix, who nobly fell at the battle of Marengo, when
leading to the charge a body of cavalry, which decided the fate of that
desperate conflict; this tribute, however, to the memory of the brave,
was removed by order of the Bourbons, on their first restoration.


In the middle of the Place Royale a fine basin has been constructed,
from whence plays a magnificent piece of water; the Squares of the
Apport de Paris; of the Rotunda; and of Rivoli.

_The Pantheon._

The pillars supporting the vast dome of this lofty pile, which had long
threatened the overthrow of the structure were replaced, and the
tottering foundations rendered perfect and solid.

_The Hotel Dieu._

The whole façade of this immense Hospital was reconstructed.

_The Canal de L'Ourcq._

This grand undertaking was rendered navigable, and the basin, sluices,
&c. completely finished.


Of the numerous means employed to commemorate the achievements of
Napoleon, the public buildings and monuments of France bear ample
witness. Indeed, Bonaparte's name and fame are so engrafted with the
arts and literature of France, that it would be impossible for the
government to erase the estimation in which he is held by the French

_A series of medals in bronze_, nearly one hundred and thirty in number,
struck at different epochs of his career, exist, each in celebration of
the prowess of the French army, or of some great act of his government:
a victory, a successful expedition, the conquest of a nation, the
establishment of a new state, the elevation of some of his family, or
his own personal aggrandizement.

The medal commemorative of the _battle of Marengo_ bears, on one side, a
large bunch of keys, environed by two laurel branches; and, on the
reverse, Bonaparte, as a winged genius, standing on a dismounted cannon
to which four horses are attached upon the summit of Mount St. Bernard,
urges their rapid speed, with a laurel branch in one hand, whilst he
directs the reins with the other.

That on the _peace of Luneville_ is two inches and a quarter in
diameter, with the head of the first consul in uncommonly bold relief;
the device, as mentioned in another place, is the sun arising in
splendor upon that part of the globe which represents France, and which
is overshadowed by laurels, whilst a cloud descends and obscures Great

The commencement of hostilities by England, after the _peace of Amiens_,
is designated by the English leopard tearing a scroll, with the
inscription, _Le Traité d'Amiens Rompu par l'Angleterre en Mai de l'An_
1803; on the reverse, a winged female figure in breathless haste forcing
on a horse at full speed, and holding a laurel crown, inscribed,
_L'Hanovre occupé var l'Armée Francaise en Juin de l'An_ 1803; and
beneath, _Frappée avec l'Argent des Mines d'Hanovre, l'An 4 de

His medal, on assuming the purple, has his portrait, _Napoleon
Empereur_, by Andrieu, who executed nearly all the portraits on his
medals; on the reverse, he is in his imperial robes, elevated by two
figures, one armed, inscribed, _Le Senat et le Peuple_.

The _battle of Austerlitz_ has, on the reverse, simply a thunderbolt,
with a small figure of Napoleon, enrobed and enthroned on the upper end
of the shaft of the thunder.

In 1804, he struck a medal with a Herculean figure on the reverse,
confining the head of the English leopard between his knees, whilst
preparing a cord to strangle him, inscribed _En l'An XII. 2000 barques
sont construites_;--this was in condemnation of the invasion and
conquest of England.

The reverse of the medal on the _battle of Jena_ represents Napoleon on
an eagle in the clouds, as warring with giants on the earth, whom he
blasts with thunderbolts.

The medal on the _Confederation of the Rhine_ has, for its reverse,
numerous warriors in ancient armor, swearing with their right hands on
an altar, formed of an immense fasces, with the imperial eagle
projecting from it.

Not the least characteristic of the series is a medal, with the usual
head _Napoleon Emp. et Roi_, on the exergue, with this remarkable
reverse, a throne, with the imperial robes over the back and across the
sceptre, which is in the chair; before the throne is a table, with
several crowns, differing in shape and dignity, and some sceptres with
them lying upon it; three crowns are on the ground, one broken and two
upside down; an eagle with a fasces hovers in the air; the inscription
is, _Souverainetés donnés_ M.DCCCVI.

The reverses of the last four in succession, struck during the reign of
Napoleon, are, 1. The _Wolga_, rising with astonishment from his bed at
the sight of the French eagle; 2. A representation of _la Bataille de la
Moskowa, 7 Septembre, 1812_; 3. _A view of Moscow_, with the French flag
flying on the Kremlin, and an ensign of the French eagle, bearing the
letter N. loftily elevated above its towers and minarets, dated 14th
September, 1812; 4. A figure in the air, directing a furious storm
against an armed warrior resembling Napoleon, who, unable to resist the
attack, is sternly looking back, whilst compelled to fly before it--a
dead horse, cannon dismounted, and a wagon full of troops standing
still, perishing in fields of snow; the inscription is, _Retraite de
l'Armée, Novembre, 1812_.

The workmanship of the preceding medals are admirable, but most of them
are surpassed in that respect by some to which we can do little more
than allude.

A finely executed medal, two inches and five-eights in diameter,
represents Napoleon enthroned in his full imperial costume, holding a
laurel wreath; on the reverse is a head of _Minerva_, surrounded by
laurel and various trophies of the fine arts, with this
inscription--_Ecole Francaise des Beaux Arts à Rome, rétablie et
augmentée par Napoleon en 1803_. The reverses--of the Cathedral at
Paris--a warrior sheathing his sword (on the battle of Jena)--and
Bonaparte holding up the King of Rome, and presenting him to the
people--are amongst the most highly finished and most inestimable
specimens of art.

Unquestionably the _worst_ in the collection is the consular medal,
which, on that account, deserves description; it is, in size, about a
half crown piece, on the exergue, over a small head of Bonaparte, is
inscribed _Bonaparte premier consul_; beneath it, _Cambacères second
consul, le Brun troisième consul de la république Francaise_; on the
reverse, _Le peuple Francais à défenseurs, cette première pierre de la
colonne nationale, posée par Lucien Bonaparte, ministre de l'interieur,
25 Messidore, An 8, 14 Juillet, 1800_.--One other medal only appears
with the name of Lucien Bonaparte; it is that struck in honor of Marshal
Turenne, upon the _Translation du corps de Turenne au Temple de Mars par
les ordres du premier Consul Bonaparte_; and is of a large size, bearing
the head of Turenne, with, beneath it, _Sa gloire appartient au peuple
Francais_. Several are in honor of General Desaix, whose memory Napoleon
held in great esteem. Those on his marriage with Marie Louise bear her
head beside his own; and a small one on that occasion has for its
reverse, a Cupid carrying with difficulty a thunderbolt. Those on the
birth of their child bear the same heads on the exergue, with the head
of an infant, on the reverse, inscribed, _Napoleon François Joseph
Charles, Rio de Rome, XX. Mars M.DCCCXI.--Ireland_.


When Napoleon had decided that a stupendous fountain should occupy the
centre of the area where the celebrated state prison of the Bastille
stood, the several artists, employed by the government, were ordered to
prepare designs for the undertaking, and numerous drawings were in
consequence sent in for the emperor's inspection. On the day appointed,
he proceeded to examine these specimens, not one of which, however,
proved at all commensurate with the vast idea he had in contemplation;
wherefore, after pacing the chamber a few minutes, Napoleon suddenly
halted, exclaiming: "Plant me a colossal elephant there, and let the
water spout from his extended trunk!" All the artists stood astonished
at this bold idea, the propriety and grandeur of which immediately
flashed conviction upon their minds, and the only wonder of each was,
that no such thought should have presented itself to his own
imagination: the simple fact is, _there was but one Napoleon
present_!--_Communicated to Ireland by David._

This fountain was modeled in Plaster of Paris on the spot. It is
seventy-two feet in height; the _jet d'eau_ is through the nostrils of
his trunk; the reservoir in the tower on his back; and one of his legs
contains the staircase for ascending to the large room in the inside of
his belly. The elephant was to have been executed in bronze, with tusks
of silver, surrounded by lions of bronze, which were to spout water from
one cistern to another.


On the sailing of the French expedition for Egypt, from Malta, under the
orders of Bonaparte, the fleet was intentionally dispersed in order to
arrive without being noticed; they had no sooner, however, left Malta,
than they learned that Nelson had penetrated their design, and was in
pursuit of them. Expecting every hour to be come up with, and being too
weak to risk a combat, it was the resolution of Bonaparte and the rest
of the illustrious persons on board the _Orient_ to blow her up, rather
than be taken prisoners; but, that the memory of those who perished
might be preserved, and their features known by posterity, Bonaparte
caused the portraits of eighteen to be taken on two sheets of paper,
which were to be rolled up, put in bottles, and committed to the waves:
the names of the persons are,--

_First Drawing._


_Second Drawing._


The portraits were executed in medallions, with India ink; they were
carefully preserved by the famous surgeon, Baron Larrey; and they
adorned his study at Paris till his death.


On the river at Sévres, near Paris, a manufactory is carried on, which
produces the beautiful porcelain, commonly called Sévres, china. It is
equal to all that has been said of it, and after declining, as every
other great national establishment did, during the revolution,
flourished greatly under the peculiar patronage of the emperor Napoleon.
He made presents hence to those sovereigns of Europe with whom he was in
alliance. Napoleon had two vases made of this china, which, even at this
day, form the principal ornament of the gallery at St. Cloud. These
were made at Sévres, and are valued at 100,000 francs each. The clay
made use of was brought at a great expense from a distant part of
France, and affords an instance of how much the value of raw material
may be increased by the ingenuity of a skillful artist.


In Scott's Paris Revisited (A. D. 1815), we have the following
interesting particulars of the removal of the celebrated pictures and
statues from this famous emporium of the fine arts.

"Every day new arrivals of strangers poured into Paris, all anxious to
gain a view of the Louvre, before its collection was broken up; it was
the first point to which all the British directed their steps every
morning, in eager curiosity to know whether the business of removal had
commenced. The towns and principalities, that had been plundered, were
making sedulous exertions to influence the councils of the allies to
determine on a general restoration; and several of the great powers
leaned decidedly towards such a decision.

"Before actual force was employed, representations were repeated to the
French government, but the ministers of the king of France would neither
promise due satisfaction, nor uphold a strenuous opposition. They showed
a sulky disregard of every application. A deputation from the
Netherlands formally claimed the Dutch and Flemish pictures taken during
the revolutionary wars from those countries; and this demand was
conveyed through the Duke of Wellington, as commander-in-chief of the
Dutch and Belgian armies. About the same time, also, Austria determined
that her Italian and German towns, which had been despoiled, should have
their property replaced, and Canova, the anxious representative of Rome,
after many fruitless appeals to Talleyrand, received assurances that he,
too, should be furnished with an armed force sufficient to protect him
in taking back to that venerable city, what lost its highest value in
its removal from thence.

"Contradicting reports continued to prevail among the crowds of
strangers and natives as to the intentions of the allies, but on
Saturday, the 23d of September, all doubt was removed. On going up to
the door of the Louvre, I found a guard of one hundred and fifty British
riflemen drawn up outside. I asked one of the soldiers what they were
there for? 'Why, they tell me, sir, that they mean to take away the
pictures,' was his reply. I walked in amongst the statues below, and on
going to the great staircase, I saw the English guard hastily trampling
up its magnificent ascent: a crowd of astonished French followed in the
rear, and, from above, many of the visitors in the gallery of pictures
were attempting to force their way past the ascending soldiers,
catching an alarm from their sudden entrance. The alarm, however, was
unfounded; but the spectacle that presented itself was very impressive.
A British officer dropped his men in files along this magnificent
gallery, until they extended, two and two, at small distances, from its
entrance to its extremity. All the spectators were breathless, in
eagerness to know what was to be done, but the soldiers stopped as
machines, having no care beyond obedience to their orders.

"The work of removal now commenced in good earnest: porters with
barrows, and ladders, and tackles of ropes made their appearance. The
collection of the Louvre might from that moment be considered as broken
up for ever. The sublimity of its orderly aspect vanished: it took now
the melancholy, confused, desolate air of a large auction room, after a
day's sale. Before this, the visitors had walked down its profound
length with a sense of respect on their minds, influencing them to
preserve silence and decorum, as they contemplated the majestic
pictures; but decency and quiet were dispelled when the signal was given
for the breaking up of the establishment. It seemed as if a nation had
become ruined through improvidence, and was selling off.

"The guarding of the Louvre was committed by turns to the British and
Austrians, while this process lasted. The Prussians said that they had
done their own business for themselves, and would not now incur odium
for others. The workmen being incommoded by the crowds that now rushed
to the Louvre, as the news spread of the destruction of its great
collection, a military order came that no visitors should be admitted
without permission from the foreign commandant of Paris. This direction
was pretty much adhered to by the sentinels as far as the exclusion of
the French, but the words _Je suis Anglais_, were always sufficient to
gain leave to pass from the Austrians: our own countrymen were rather
more strict, but, in general, foreigners could, with but little
difficulty, procure admission. The Parisians stood in crowds around the
door, looking wistfully within it, as it occasionally opened to admit
Germans, English, Russians, &c., into a palace of their capital from
which they were excluded. I was frequently asked by French gentlemen,
standing with ladies on their arms, and kept back from the door by the
guards, to take them into their own Louvre, under my protection as an
unknown foreigner! It was impossible not to feel for them in these
remarkable circumstances of mortification and humiliation; and the
agitation of the French public was now evidently excessive. Every
Frenchman looked a walking volcano, ready to spit forth fire. Groups of
the common people collected in the space before the Louvre, and a
spokesman was generally seen, exercising the most violent
gesticulations, sufficiently indicative of rage, and listened to by the
others, with lively signs of sympathy with his passion. As the packages
came out, they crowded round them, giving vent to torrents of _pestes_,
_diables_, _sacres_, and other worse interjections.

"Wherever an Englishman went, in Paris, at this time, whether into a
shop or a company, he was assailed with the exclamation, _'Ah! vos
compatriotes!'_ and the ladies had always some wonderful story to tell
him, of an embarrassment or mortification that had happened to _his_
duke; of the evil designs of the Prince Regent, or the dreadful revenge
that was preparing against the injuries of France. The great gallery of
the Louvre presented every fresh day a more and more forlorn aspect; but
to the reflecting mind, it combined a number of interesting points of
view. The gallery now seemed to be the abode of all the foreigners in
the French capital:--we collected there, as a matter of course, every
morning--but it was easy to distinguish the last comers from the rest.
They entered the Louvre with steps of eager haste, and looks of anxious
inquiry; they seemed to have scarcely stopped by the way--and to have
made directly for the pictures on the instant of their reaching Paris.
The first view of the stripped walls made their countenances sink under
the disappointment, as to the great object of their journey. Crowds
collected round the _Transfiguration_--that picture which, according to
the French account, _destiny_ had always intended for the French nation:
it was every one's wish to see it taken down, for the fame which this
great work of Raffaelle had acquired, and its notoriety in the general
knowledge, caused its departure to be regarded as the consummation of
the destruction of the picture gallery of the Louvre. It was taken away
among the last.

"Students of all nations fixed themselves round the principal pictures,
anxious to complete their copies before the workmen came to remove the
originals. Many young French girls were seen among these, perched upon
small scaffolds, and calmly pursuing their labors in the midst of the
throng and bustle. When the French gallery was thoroughly cleared of the
property of other nations, I reckoned the number of pictures which then
remained to it, and found that the total left to the French nation, of
the fifteen hundred pictures which constituted their magnificent
collection, was _two hundred and seventy-four_! The Italian division
comprehended about eighty-five specimens; these were now dwindled to
_twelve_: in this small number, however, there are some very exquisite
pictures by Raffaelle, and other great masters. Their Titians are much
reduced, but they keep the Entombment, as belonging to the King of
France's old collection, which is one of the finest by that artist. A
melancholy air of utter ruin mantled over the walls of this superb
gallery: the floor was covered with empty frames: a Frenchman, in the
midst of his sorrow, had his joke, in saying, 'Well, we should not have
left to _them_ even these!' In walking down this exhausted place, I
observed a person, wearing the insignia of the legion of honor, suddenly
stop short, and heard him exclaim, '_Ah, my God--and the Paul Potter,
too!_' This referred to the famous painting of a bull by that master,
which is the largest of his pictures, and is very highly valued. It
belonged to the Netherlands, and has been returned to them. It was said
that the emperor Alexander offered fifteen thousand pounds for it.

"The removal of the statues was later in commencing, and took up more
time; they were still packing these up when I quitted Paris. I saw the
Venus, the Apollo, and the Laocoön removed: these may be deemed the
presiding deities of the collection. The solemn antique look of these
halls fled forever, when the workmen came in with their straw and
Plaster of Paris, to pack up. The French could not, for some time, allow
themselves to believe that their enemies would dare to deprive them of
these sacred works; it appeared to them impossible that they should be
separated from France--from _la France_--the country of the Louvre and
the Institute; it seemed a contingency beyond the limits of human
reverses. But it happened, nevertheless: they were all removed. One
afternoon, before quitting the place, I accidentally stopped longer than
usual, to gaze on the Venus, and I never saw so clearly her superiority
over the Apollo, the impositions of whose style, even more than the
great beauties with which they are mingled, have gained for it an
inordinate and indiscriminating admiration. On this day, very few, if
any of the statues had been taken away--and many said that France would
retain them, although she was losing the pictures. On the following
morning I returned, and the pedestal on which the Venus had stood for so
many years, the pride of Paris, and the delight of every observer, was
vacant! It seemed as if a soul had taken its flight from a body."


"The removal of the well known horses taken from the church of St. Mark
in Venice, was a bitter mortification to the people of Paris. These had
been peculiarly the objects of popular pride and admiration. Being
exposed to the public view, in one of the most frequented situations of
Paris, this was esteemed the noblest trophy belonging to the capital;
and there was not a Parisian vender of a pail-full of water who did not
look like a hero when the Venetian horses were spoken of.

"'Have you heard what has been determined about the horses?' was every
foreigner's question. 'Oh! they cannot mean to take the horses away,'
was every Frenchman's answer. On the morning of Thursday, the 26th of
September, 1815, however it was whispered that they had been at work all
night in loosening them from their fastening. It was soon confirmed
that this was true--and the French then had nothing left for it, but to
vow, that if the allies were to attempt to touch them in the _daylight_,
Paris would rise at once, exterminate its enemies, and rescue its honor.
On Friday morning I walked through the square; it was clear that some
considerable change had taken place; the forms of the horses appeared
finer than I had ever before witnessed. When looking to discover what
had been done, a private of the British staff corps came up, 'You see,
sir, we took away the harness last night,' said he. 'You have made a
great improvement by so doing,' I replied; 'but are the British employed
on this work?' The man said that the Austrians had requested the
assistance of our staff corps, for it included better workmen than any
they had in their service. I heard that an angry French mob had given
some trouble to the people employed on the Thursday night, but that a
body of Parisian gendarmerie had dispersed the assemblage. The Frenchmen
continued their sneers against the allies for working in the dark: fear
and shame were the causes assigned. 'If you take them at all, why not
take them in the face of day? But you are too wise to drag upon
yourselves the irresistible popular fury, which such a sight would
excite against you!'

"On the night of Friday, the order of proceeding was entirely changed.
It had been found proper to call out a strong guard of Austrians, horse
and foot. The mob had been charged by the cavalry, and it was said that
several had their limbs broken. I expected to find the place on Saturday
morning quiet and open as usual; but when I reached its entrance, what
an impressive scene presented itself! The delicate plan--for such in
truth it was--of working by night, was now over. The Austrians had
wished to spare the feelings of the king the pain of seeing his capital
dismantled before his palace windows, where he passed in his carriage
when he went out for his daily exercise. But the acute feelings of the
people rendered severer measures necessary. My companion and myself were
stopped from entering the place by Austrian dragoons: a large mob of
Frenchmen were collected here, standing on tip-toe to catch the arch in
the distance, on the top of which the ominous sight of numbers of
workmen, busy about the horses, was plainly to be distinguished. We
advanced again to the soldiers: some of the French, by whom we were
surrounded, said, 'Whoever you are, you will not be allowed to pass.' I
confess I was for retiring--for the whole assemblage, citizens and
soldiers, seemed to wear an angry and alarming aspect. But my companion
was eager for admittance. He was put back again by an Austrian
hussar:--'_What, not the English!_' he exclaimed in his own language.
The mob laughed loudly, when they heard the foreign soldier so
addressed; but the triumph was ours; way was instantly made for us--and
an officer on duty, close by, touched his helmet as we passed.

"The king and princes had left the Tuilleries, to be out of the view of
so mortifying a business The court of the palace, which used to be gay
with young _gardes du corps_ and equipages, was now silent, deserted,
and shut up. Not a soul moved in it. The top of the arch was filled with
people, and the horses, though as yet all there, might be seen to begin
to move. The carriages that were to take them away were in waiting
below, and a tackle of ropes was already affixed to one. The small door
leading to the top was protected by a strong guard: every one was
striving to obtain permission to gratify his curiosity, by visiting the
horses for the last time that they could be visited in this situation.
Permission, however, could necessarily be granted but to few. I was of
the fortunate number. In a minute I had climbed the narrow dark stair,
ascended a small ladder, and was out on the top, with the most
picturesque view before me that can be imagined. An English lady asked
me to assist her into Napoleon's car of victory: his own statue was to
have been placed in it, _when he came back a conqueror from his Russian
expedition!_ I followed the lady and her husband into the car, and we
found a Prussian officer there before us. He looked at us, and, with a
good humored smile, said, 'The emperor kept the English out of France,
but the English have now got where he could not! '_Ah, pauvre,

"The cry of the French now was, that it was abominable, execrable, to
insult the king in his palace--to insult him in the face of his own
subjects by removing the horses in the face of day! I adjourned with a
friend to dine at a _restaurateur's_, near the garden of the Tuilleries,
after witnessing what I have described. Between seven and eight in the
evening we heard the rolling of wheels, the clatter of cavalry, and the
tramp of infantry. A number of British were in the room; they all rose
and rushed to the door without hats, and carrying in their haste their
white table napkins in their hands. The horses were going past in
military procession, lying on their sides, in separate cars. First came
cavalry, then infantry, then a car; then more cavalry, more infantry,
then another car; and so on till all four passed. The drums were
beating, and the standards went waving by. This was the only appearance
of parade that attended any of the removals. Three Frenchmen, seeing the
group of English, came up to us, and began a conversation. They appealed
to us if this was not shameful. A gentleman observed, that the horses
were only going back to the place from whence the French had taken them:
if there was a right in power for France, there must also be one for
other states but the better way to consider these events was as
terminating the times of robbery and discord. Two of them seemed much
inclined to come instantly round to our opinion: but one was much more
consistent. He appeared an officer, and was advanced beyond the middle
age of life. He kept silence for a moment; and then, with strong
emphasis, said--'You have left me nothing for my children but hatred
against England; this shall be my legacy to them.'"--_Scott._


"What will posterity think of the madness of the French government and
the exasperation of public feeling in a nation like the French, so
uniformly proud of military glory, when very shortly after the first
arrival of their new monarch, Louis XVIII., an order was issued for
leveling with the dust that proud monument of their victories, the
famous column and statue of Napoleon in the Place Vendôme cast from
those cannon which their frequent victories over the Austrians had
placed at their disposal? The ropes attached to the neck of the colossal
brazen figure of the Emperor, wherewith the pillar was crowned, extended
to the very iron gratings of the Tuillerie gardens; thousands essayed to
move it, but all attempts were vain--the statue singly defied their
malice; upon which a second expedient was resorted to, and the carriage
horses, etc., from the royal stables were impressed into this service,
and affixed to the ropes, thus uniting their powerful force to that of
the _bipeds_: but even this proved abortive; the statue and column
braved the united shocks of man and beast, and both remained
immoveable." The statue was afterwards quietly dislodged from its
station by the regular labors of the experienced artisan. It was not
replaced till after the Revolution in 1830.--_Ireland._


When the Allies entered Paris in 1815, they found in the gallery of the
Louvre about two thousand works of art--the gems of the world in
painting and antique sculpture--mostly the spoils of war, deposited
there by the Emperor Napoleon. The selection of these works was
entrusted to a commission, at the head of whom was the Baron Denon, who
accompanied the Emperor in all his expeditions for this purpose. The
Louvre, at this time, was the acknowledged emporium of the fine arts.
The grand determination of Napoleon to place France highest in art among
the nations, did not rest here. The design of combining in one single
series, five hundred and twenty-two line engravings from the finest
paintings and antique statues in the world, was a conception worthy of
his genius and foresight, and by its execution he conferred a lasting
favor not only on the artistic, but the civilized world, for the
originals were subsequently restored by the Allies to their rightful
owners and only about three hundred and fifty pieces remained of that
splendid collection. "These works" (the Musée Français, and the Musée
Royal), says a distinguished connoisseur, "are unquestionably the
greatest production of modern times. They exhibit a series of exquisite
engravings by the most distinguished artists, of such a magnificent
collection of painting and of sculpture as can never be again united."
These works were intended as a great treasury of art, from which not
only artists, but the whole world might derive instruction and profit.
To secure the utmost perfection in every department, no expense was
spared. The drawings for the engravers to engrave from, were executed by
the most distinguished artists, in order to ensure that every
peculiarity, perfection, and _imperfection_ in the originals should be
exactly copied, and these are pointed out in the accompanying
criticisms. These drawings alone cost the French government 400,000

The engravings were executed by the most distinguished engravers of
Europe, without regard to country, among whom it is sufficient to
mention Raffaelle Morghen, the Chevalier von Müller, and his son C. F.
von Müller, Bervic, Richomme, Rosaspina, Bartolozzi, Gandolfi,
Schiavonetti, the elder and younger Laurent, Massard, Girardet, Lignon,
Chatillon, Audouin, Forster, Claessens, etc. Stanley says that proof
impressions of Bervic's masterpiece, the Laocoön, have been sold in
London for thirty guineas each. There are many prints in these works
not less celebrated, and which are regarded by connoisseurs as
masterpieces of the art.

Nor was this all. Napoleon summoned Visconti, the famous antiquary,
archæologist, and connoisseur, from Rome to Paris, to assist in getting
up the admirable descriptions and criticisms, particularly of the
ancient statues. This department was confided to Visconti, Guizot,
Clarac, and the elder Duchesne. The supervision of the engraving and
publishing department was entrusted to the Messrs. Robilliard,
Peronville, and Laurent. These works were published in numbers of four
plates, atlas folio, at the price of 96 francs each for the proofs
before the letter, and 48 francs for the prints. The first number of the
Musée Français was issued in 1803, and the last in 1811; but the Musée
Royal, which was intended to supply the deficiencies of the Musée
Français, was not completed till 1819; nevertheless, it was Napoleon's
work, though consummated in the reign of Louis XVIII.

The Musée Français was originally published in five volumes, and
contains, besides the descriptions and criticisms on the plates,
admirable essays--1st. on the History of Painting, from its origin in
ancient times down to the time of Cimabue; 2d. on the History of
Painting in the German, Dutch, Flemish, and French schools; 3d. on the
History of Engraving; 4th. on the History of Ancient Sculpture. The
Musée Royal was published in two volumes. A second edition of the Musée
Français was published by the Messrs. Galignani, in four volumes, with
an English and French letter-press, but both greatly abridged. The
letter-press of the Musée Royal has never been rendered into English.
The plates were sold by the French government in 1836, since which time
a small edition has been printed from both works.


About the year 1785, Alderman J. Boydell, of London, conceived the
project of establishing a 'Shakspeare Gallery,' upon a scale of grandeur
and magnificence which should be in accordance with the fame of the
poet, and, at the same time, reflect honor upon the state of the arts in
Great Britain and throughout the world. Mr. Boydell was at this time a
man of great wealth and influence, and a patron of the fine arts, being
an engraver himself, and having accumulated his fortune mostly by
dealings in works of that character.

He advertised for designs from artists throughout Great Britain, and
paid a guinea for every one submitted, whether accepted or not; and for
every one accepted by the committee, a prize of one hundred guineas. The
committee for selecting these designs was composed of five eminent
artists, Boydell himself being the president. The first painters of the
age were then employed to paint these pictures, among whom were Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Sir Benjamin West, Fusell, Romney, Northcote, Smirke,
Sir William Beechy, and Opie.

Allan Cunningham, in his 'Lives of Eminent British Artists,' mentions
that Sir Joshua Reynolds was at first opposed to Boydell's project, as
impracticable on such an immense scale, and Boydell, to gain his
approbation and assistance, privately sent him a letter enclosing a
£1000 Bank of England note, and requesting him to paint two pictures at
his own price. What sum was paid by Boydell for these pictures was never
known. A magnificent building was erected in Pall Mall to exhibit this
immense collection, called the Shakspeare Gallery, which was for a long
time the pride of London.

The first engravers of England were employed to transfer these gems to
copper, and such artists as Sharp, Bartolozzi, Earlom, Thew, Simon,
Middiman, Watson, Fyttler, Wilson, and many others, exerted their
talents for years in this great work. In some instances, the labor of
more than five years was expended on a single plate, and proof
impressions were taken for subscribers at almost every stage of the
work. At length in 1803, after nearly twenty years, the work was
completed. The price fixed (which was never reduced) was two guineas
each for the first three hundred impressions, and the subscription list
was then filled up at one guinea each, or one hundred guineas a set of
one hundred plates.

Besides these subscriptions, large donations were made by many of the
noblemen of England, to encourage the undertaking, and to enable Boydell
to meet his enormous outlay. The cost of the whole work, from the
commencement, is said to have been about one million pounds sterling;
and although the projector was a wealthy man when he commenced it, he
died soon after its completion, a bankrupt to the amount, it is said, of

After these plates were issued, Boydell petitioned Parliament to allow
him to dispose of his gallery of paintings by a lottery. The petition
was granted, and the whole collection was thus disposed of. One of the
finest of these pictures, King Lear, by Sir Benjamin West, is now in the
Boston Athenæum.

One fact in relation to these plates gives great value to them. "All the
principal historical characters are genuine portraits of the persons
represented in the play; every picture gallery and old castle in England
was ransacked to furnish these portraits."


Public Galleries of Art are now regarded by the most enlightened men,
and the wisest legislators, as of incalculable benefit to every
civilized country. (See vol. i., page 6, of this work.)
They communicate to the mind, through the eye, "the accumulated wisdom
of ages," relative to every form of beauty, in the most rapid and
captivating manner. If such institutions are important in Europe,
abounding in works of art, how much more so in our country, separated as
it is by the broad Atlantic from the artistic world, which few
comparatively can ever visit: many of our young artists, for the want of
such an institution, are obliged to grope their way in the dark, and to
spend months and years to find out a few simple principles of art.

A distinguished professor, high in public estimation, has declared that
the formation of such an institution in this country, however important
and desirable it may be, is almost hopeless. He founds his opinion on
the difficulty of obtaining the authenticated works of the great
masters, and the enormous prices they now command in Europe. The writer
ventures to declare it as his long cherished opinion that a United
States National Gallery is entirely practicable, as far as all useful
purposes are concerned; and at a tithe of the cost of such institutions
in Europe. In the present state of the Fine Arts in our country, we
should not attempt to emulate European magnificence, but utility. The
"course of empire is westward," and in the course of time, as wealth and
taste increases, sale will be sought here, as now in England, for many
works of the highest art. It is also to be hoped that some public
benefactors will rise to our assistance. After the foundation of the
institution, it may be extended according to the taste and wants of the
country; professorships may be added, and the rarest works purchased.
When the country can and will afford it, no price should be regarded too
great for a perfect masterpiece of art, as a model in a national
collection. To begin, the Gallery should contain,

1st. A complete library of all standard works on Art, historical and
illustrative, in every language.

2d. A collection of the masterpieces of engraving; these should be
mounted on linen, numbered, bound, described and criticised.

3d. A complete collection of casts of medals and antique gems, where the
originals cannot be obtained. There are about 70,000 antique medals of
high importance to art. (See Numismatics, vol. iii., p. 269, of this work.) These casts could easily be obtained through our
diplomatic agents; they should be taken in Plaster of Paris or Sulphur,
double--i.e., the reverse and obverse,--classified, catalogued,
described, and arranged in cases covered with plate glass, for their

4th. A collection of plaster casts of all the best works of sculpture,
particularly of the antique. Correct casts of the Elgin marbles are sold
by the British Museum at a very reasonable price, and in this case
would doubtless be presented to the institution.

5th. A collection of Paintings. This is the most difficult part of the
project, yet practicable. Masterpieces of the art only should be
admitted, but historical authenticity disregarded. The works of the
great masters have been so closely imitated, that there are no certain
marks of authenticity, where the history of the picture cannot be
traced. (See Spooner's Dictionary of Painters, etc., Introduction, and
Table of Imitators.) Half the pictures in foreign collections cannot be
authenticated, and many of those which are, are not the best productions
of the master, nor worthy of the places they occupy. (See Mrs. Jameson's
Hand-Book to the Public Galleries in and near London; also the
Catalogues of the various Public Galleries of Europe.) Therefore,
instead of paying 5,000 or 10,000 guineas for an authenticated piece by
a certain master, as is sometimes done in Europe, competent and _true_
men should be appointed to select capital works, executed in the style
of the great masters. Many such can be had in this country as well as in
Europe, at moderate prices.

6th. The Institution should be located in New York, as the most
convenient place, and as the great centre of commerce, where artists
could most readily dispose of their works. For this favor, the city
would doubtless donate the ground, and her citizens make liberal
contributions. The edifice should be built fire-proof, and three
stories high--the upper with a skylight, for the gallery of paintings.
Such an institution need not be very expensive; yet it would afford the
elements for the instruction and accomplishment of the painter, the
engraver, the sculptor, the architect, the connoisseur, the
archæologist, and the public at large; it would be the means of
awakening and developing the sleeping genius of many men, to the honor,
glory, and advantage of their country, which, without it, must sleep on
forever. See vol. ii., pp. 149 and 155, and vol. iii., p. 265
of this work.


  Advantages of the Cultivation of the Fine Arts to a Country, i, 6;
    Sir M. A. Shoe's Opinion, i, 6;
    Sir George Beaumont's, i, 7;
    West's, i, 8;
    Taylor's, i, 9;
    see also, i, 69;
    Reynolds' Opinion, i, 204;
    Napoleon's, iii, 274.

  Ætion, his picture of the Nuptials of Alexander and Roxana, ii, 184.

  Agaptos, Porticos of, ii, 185.

  Ageladus, his works, ii, 185.

  Aldobrandini Wedding, Fresco of, ii, 55.

  Allston, Washington, i, 60;
    his Prayer answered, i, 61;
    his success in London, i, 62;
    his Death, i, 62;
    Vanderlyn's letter--his Reflections on his Death, i, 63.

  American Patronage at Home and Abroad, i, 66;
    Weir, Greenough, and Cooper's testimony, i, 67;
    Cooper's Letter, i, 68.

  Amiconi, Jacopo, iii, 249.

  Angelo, Michael, his Early Passion for Art, i, 47;
    his Mask of a Satyr, i, 48;
    his Sleeping Cupid, i, 48;
    Angela and Julius II, i, 50;
    St. Peter's Church, i, 50;
    Angelo and Lorenzo the Magnificent, i, 52;
    his Cartoon of Pisa, i, 53;
    his Last Judgment, i, 54;
    his Coloring, i, 56;
    his Grace, i, 57;
    his Oil Paintings, i, 58;
    his Prophets and Julius II, i, 58;
    his Bon-Mots, i, 59;
    Angelo and Raffaelle, i, 70-72.

  Anguisciola, Sofonisba, iii, 129;
    her Early Distinction, iii, 129;
    her Invitation to Spain iii, 130;
    her Marriages, iii, 131;
    her Residence at Genoa, her Honors, and her Intercourse with
    Vandyck, iii, 132.

  Antique Sculptures in Rome, ii, 159.

  Antiquities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, ii, 43.

  Antiquity of the Fine Arts, i, 12.

  Aparicio, Canova, and Thorwaldsen, i, 236.

  Apelles, i, 18;
    his Works, i, 18;
    his Industry, i, 19;
    his Portraits of Philip and Alexander, i, 19;
    his Venus Anadyomene, i, 20;

  Apelles and the Cobbler, i, 23;
    his Foaming Charger, i, 24;
    his Freedom with Alexander, i, 25;
    Apelles and Protogenes, i, 25;
    the celebrated Contest of Lines, i, 26;
    his Generosity to Protogenes, i, 28.

  Apelles of Ephesus, i, 93;
    his Treatment by Ptolomy Philopator, i, 94;
    his Revenge in his famous Picture of Calumny, i, 94;
    Lucian's description of it, i, 94;
    Raffaelle's Drawing of it, i, 95;
    Proof that there were two Painters named Apelles, i, 95.

  Apollo Belvidere--West's Criticism, i, 41.

  Apollo, Colossal Etruscan, i, 90.

  Apollo Sauroctonos, i, 155.

  Apollodorus the Painter, i, 162;
    his Works and Style, i, 163.

  Apollodorus the Architect, i, 163;
    his Worke, i, 164;
    Trajan's Column, i, 164;
    Apollodorus and Adrian, i, 165;
    his Wicked Death, i, 165.

  Aqueducts of Ancient Rome, ii 152.

  Arch, Origin and Antiquity of the, ii. 41.

  Arches, Triumphal, ii, 157.

  Archimedes, iii, 77;
    his Genius, Discoveries, and Inventions, iii, 77;
    his Wonderful Machines, iii, 78;
    his Death and Monument, iii, 79;
    Story of his Burning Glasses proved true, iii, 79.

  Ardemans and Bocanegra--a Trial of Skill, iii, 201.

  Art, Egyptian, iii, 1-42, and iii, 263.

  Art, Grecian, derived from the Egyptian--Champollion's Opinion, iii, 1;
    Origin of, iii, 265.

  Athenians, Ingratitude of, to Artists, i, 159.

  Backhuysen, Ludolph, Sketch of his Life and Works, iii, 235.

  Banks, Thomas--his Ambition, i, 2;
    his Character, i, 295;
    his Genius, i, 297;
    his Kindness to Young Sculptors, i, 298;
    his Personal Appearance and Habits, i, 299;
    Flaxman's Tribute, i, 300.

  Barry, James--his Enthusiasm, i, 2;
    his Poverty, Death, and Monument, i, 3;
    Johnson's Opinion of his Genius, i, 3.

  Bassano, Jacopo--singular instance of his Skill, ii, 139.

  Beaumont, Sir George--his Opinion of the Importance of the
   Fine Arts, i, 7;
   his Enthusiasm and munificent gift to the English National
   Gallery, i, 7.

  Beauty, Ideal, as Conceived and Practiced by the Greatest
    Masters, ii, 247.

  Belzoni--his Travels in Egypt, iii, 25.

  The Belzoni Sarcophagus, ii, 194.

  Bernazzano, the Zeuxis of Italy, ii, 140.

  Bernini, the Cav., i, 101;
    his Precocity, i, 101;
    his Bust of Charles I. and his Prediction, i, 101;

  Bernini and Louis XIV., i, 102;
    his Triumphal Visit to Paris, i, 102;
    the Medal struck in his Honor, i, 103;
    his Works, i, 103;
    his Restoration of the Verospi Hercules, i, 104;
    Lanzi's Critique, i, 103;
    his Love of Splendor and his Riches, i, 104;
    Bernini and Urban VIII., iii, 256.

  Blake, William--his Enthusiasm, Eccentricity, and Poverty, i, 3;
    his melancholy yet triumphant Death, 1, 4.

  Boydell's Shakespeare Gallery, iii, 305.

  Bridge, Trajan's, across the Danube, i, 164.

  Bridge, Mandrocles', across the Bosphorus, ii, 162.

  Bridge, the Britannia Railway Tubular, iii 46;
    the Tubes, iii, 47;
    the Piers, iii, 48;
    Construction of the Tubes, iii, 49;
    Floating the Tubes, iii, 50;
    Raising the Tubes, iii, 52;
    the prodigious Hydraulic Presses used, iii, 53;
    Bursting of one, iii, 55;
    Sir Francis Head's Description, iii, 56;
    Cost of the Structure, iii, 57.

  Brower, Adrian, iii, 182;
    his Escape from a Cruel Master, iii, 183;
    Brower, the Duke d'Aremberg, and Rubens, iii, 184;
    his Death, iii, 184;
    his Works, iii, 185.

  Brunelleschi, Filippo--remarkable instance of the Trials and Triumphs
    of Genius, iii, 80;
    his Inquiring Mind, Industry, and Discoveries, iii, 81;
    his Genius, iii, 82;
    his Ambition, iii, 83;
    his first Visit to Rome and Assiduity, iii, 84;
    Assembly of Architects to consult on the best means of raising the
    Cupola of the Cathedral of Florence, iii, 85;
    his Return to Rome, iii, 86;
    his Invitation back to Florence, iii, 87;
    his Discourse, iii, 87;
    his Return to Rome, iii, 89;
    grand Assemblage of Architects from all parts of Europe, iii, 90;
    their Opinions and ridiculous Projects to raise the Cupola, iii, 91;
    Filippo's Opposition and Discourse, iii, 92;
    taken for a Madman, and driven out of the Assembly, iii, 93;
    his Discourse, iii, 94;
    his Arguments, and his Proposal that he who could make an Egg stand
    on one end should build the Cupola, iii, 94;
    his Plan submitted, iii, 96;
    its Adoption, iii, 99;
    Opposition encountered, iii, 101;
    Lorenzo Ghiberti associated with him, iii, 101;
    his Vexation and Despair, iii, 102;
    Commencement of the Work, iii, 103;
    Lorenzo's incapacity for such a Work, iii, 104;
    Filippo's Scheme to get rid of him, iii, 105;
    Lorenzo disgraced, iii, 109;
    Filippo appointed Sole Architect, iii, 111;
    his Industry, the wonderful Resources of his Mind, and his
    triumphant Success, iii, 112;
    Filippo chosen Magistrate of the City, iii, 116;
    Jealousies he still encountered, iii, 118;
    his Arrest, Mortifying Affront, and Triumph, iii, 118;
    Grandeur and Magnificence of his Cupola, iii, 120;
    his Enthusiasm, iii, 122;
    Brunelleschi and Donatello, iii, 123.

  Buffalmacco, the successor of Giotto, ii, 267;
    his comical Tricks to enjoy his sweetest Sleep, ii, 268;
    his Employment by the Nuns of Faenza, ii, 270;
    his Use of their best wine, ii, 272;
    his Employment by Bishop Guido, ii, 273;
    Comical Pranks of the Bishop's Monkey, ii, 274;
    his Trick on the Bishop, ii, 277;
    Origin of Libel Painting, ii, 278;

  Utility of ancient paintings, ii, 280;
    his Commission from the Countryman, and its curious execution, ii, 282;
    his Commission from the Perugians, ii, 283;
    their Impertinence requited, ii, 284;
    his Novel Mode of enforcing Payment, ii, 285.

  Callot, Jacques, iii, 176;
    his uncontrollable Passion for Art, iii, 176;
    his Patriotism, iii, 177.

  Callimachus--his invention of the Corinthian Capital, i, 152.

  Cambiaso, Luca--his Precocity and remarkable Facility of Hand, iii, 187;
    his Invitation to Spain, iii, 188;
    Luca and Philip II., iii, 189;
    his Artistic Merits, iii, 190;
    Boschini and Mengs' Opinions, iii, 190.

  Campaspe and Apelles, i, 21.

  Campus Martius, i, 91.

  Cano, Alonso, i, 230;
    his Liberality, i, 231;
    his Eccentricities, i, 231;
    his Hatred of the Jews, i, 232;
    his Ruling Passion strong in Death, i, 234;
    Cano and the Intendant of the Bishop of Malaga, iii, 203;
    his love of Sculpture, iii, 204.

  Canova--his Visit to his Native Place in his old age, i, 32.

  Capitol, ancient, of Rome, iii, 59.

  Capugnano and Lionello Spada, iii, 247.

  Caracci, the School of, ii, 122.

  Caracci, Annibale--his Letter to Lodovico, and his Opinion of the
    Works of Correggio, i, 253;
    instance of his Skill, ii, 137;
    his Jealousy of Agostino, iii, 258.

  Carburi, Count--his Skill in Engineering, iii, 42.

  Caracciolo, Gio. Battista--his Intrigues, ii, 128.

  Carducci, Bartolomeo--his kind Criticism, iii, 203.

  Carlos, the Four, of the 17th Century, ii, 184.

  Caravaggio, Michael Angelo da--his Quarrelsome Disposition
    and his Death, iii, 248.

  Carreño, Don Juan, and Charles II, iii, 208;
    his Copy of Titian's St. Margaret, iii, 208;
    his Abstraction of Mind, iii, 209.

  Castagno, Andrea del, his Treachery and Death, ii, 144.

  Castillo's Sarcasm on Alfaro, iii, 204.

  Catacombs of Egypt, iii, 12.

  Catino, the Sagro, or Emerald Dish, iii, 215.

  Cellini, Benvenute, iii, 255;
    Cellini and Urban VIII;
    his absolution for sins committed in the service of the
    Church, iii, 255.

  Cespedes, Pablo--his Last Supper, iii, 209;
    Zuccaro's Compliment to Cespedes, iii, 210.

  Chair of St. Peter, iii, 213.

  Church, St Peter's, iii, 61

  Churches of Rome, iii, 60.

  Cimabue, Giovanni--Sketch of his Life, ii, 251;
    his Style, ii, 252;
    his Passion for Art, ii, 252;
    his famous picture of the Virgin, ii, 253;
    remarkable instance of homage to Art, ii, 254;
    his Works, ii, 255;
    his Death, ii, 256;
    his Care of Giotto, ii, 257.

  Cloaca Maxima at Rome, ii, 42.

  Coello, Claudio, his challenge to Giordano, ii, 234.

  Column, Trajan's, i, 164.

  Column of Austerlitz, iii, 280.

  Colosseum, description of, ii, 29;
    Montaigne's quaint account of its Spectacles, ii, 31.

  Colossus of the Sun at Rhodes, ii, 162.

  "Columbus and the Egg," story of, derived by him from
    Brunelleschi, iii, 95.

  Contarini, Cav. Giovanni--his skill in Portraits, ii, 139.

  Contri, Antonio--his method of transferring frescos from walls to
    canvass, ii, 146;
    see also Palmarolis, ii, 147.

  Cooper, J. Fennimore--his Encouragement of Greenough, i, 66;
    his Letter to Induce his Countrymen to Patronize their own
    Artists, i, 67.

  Corenzio, Belisario--his Intrigues, ii, 128.

  Corinthian Capital, invention of, i, 152.

  Correggio--Sketch of his Life, i, 243;
    his Cupola of the Church of St. John at Parma, i, 244;
    his grand Cupola of the Cathedral, i, 246;
    his Fate Exaggerated, i, 249;
    Lanzi's Opinion, i, 251;
    his Marriage and Children, i, 252;
    Caracci's Opinion of Correggio, and his Letter, i, 258;
    his Enthusiasm, i, 255;
    his Grace, i, 255;
    Correggio and the Monks, i, 256;
    his Kindness--his Muleteer, i, 256;
    Duke of Wellington's Correggio, i, 257;
    Correggio's Ancona, i, 257;
    Portraits of Correggio, i, 258;
    did Correggio ever visit Rome? i, 259;
    Singular History of Correggio's Adoration of the Shepherds, i, 261;
    of his Education of Cupid, i, 262;
    of a Magdalen, i, 264;
    of a Charity, i, 265;
    the celebrated Nótte of Correggio, iii, 259.

  Cortona, Pietro--Sketch of his Life, iii, 253;
    Anecdotes of, iii, 254.

  David, Jacques Louis, i, 176;
    his Politics and Love of Liberty, i, 176;
    David and Napoleon, i, 177;
    his Banishment to Brussels, i, 177;
    his famous picture of the Coronation of Napoleon, i, 178;
    David and Canova, i, 179;
    Napoleon's Compliments to David, i, 180;
    the King of Wurtemberg's, i, 181;
    List of Portraits it contained, i, 182;
    its Barbarous Destruction by the Bourbons, i, 184;
    David and the Duke of Wellington at Brussels, i, 184;
    David and the Cardinal Caprara, i, 185;
    Talma and David in his Banishment, 1, 186.

  Denon, the Baron--his description of the Necropolis of Thebes, iii, 16,
    his Employment by Napoleon, iii, 802.

  Digby, Sir Kenelm--his Love Adventure in Spain, iii, 199.

  Dinocrates--his Proposal to cut Mount Athos into a Statue of Alexander
    the Great, ii, 165;
    Pope's Idea of its Practicability, ii, 166;
    Dinocrates' Temple with an Iron Statue suspended in the air by
    Loadstone, ii, 168.

  Domenichino, ii, 121;
    his Dullness in his Youth, ii, 121;
    Caracci's prediction of his rise to Eminence, ii, 122;
    Lanzi and Mengs' Testimony of his Genius and Merits, ii, 123;
    his Scourging of St. Andrew, ii, 123;
    his Communion of St. Jerome, ii, 124;
    his Enemies at Rome, ii, 125;
    Lanzi's Account of the Decision of Posterity on his Merits, ii, 126;
    his Caricatures, ii, 128;
    Intrigues of the Neapolitan Triumvirate of Painters, ii, 128;
    Lanzi's Account of this disgraceful Cabal, ii, 129;
    his Works in the Chapel of St Januarius, and the Prices he
    received, ii, 131;
    his Death, ii, 132.

  Donatello, iii, 125;
    Donatello and the Merchant, iii, 126;
    Donatello and his unworthy Kinsmen, iii, 127;
    his Death, iii, 128;
    Donatello and Michael Angelo Compared, iii, 128;
    Donatello and Brunelleschi, iii, 123;
    Donatello and Uccello, ii, 292.

  Douw, Gerard, iii, 222;
    his Style, iii, 224;
    his Method of Painting, iii, 225;
    his Works, iii, 226;
    his Dropsical Woman, iii, 227.

  Dramatic Scenery at Rome, i, 93.

  Durer, Albert, iii, 228;
    his unfortunate Marriage, iii, 229;
    his Works as a Painter, iii, 229;
    his Works as an Engraver, iii, 231;
    his Fame and Death, iii, 233;
    his Habits, iii, 234;
    his Literary Works, iii, 234.

  Egyptian Art, iii, 1, and iii, 263.

  Electioneering Pictures at Rome, i, 91.

  Emulation and Rivalry of Advantage to Artists, iii, 257.

  Engraving, Invention of Copper-Plate, i, 287.

  Era, Brightest, of Grecian Art, i, 11, and ii, 154.

  Era, Brightest, of Roman Art, ii, 152.

  Era, Brightest, of Italian Art, ii, 149.

  Eyck, John van--his Invention of Oil Painting, ii, 141.

  Fabius Maximus--his Estimation of Art, i, 145.

  Fanaticism, Religious, destructive to Art, i, 105;
    its Effects in England, i, 105.

  Figure, the Nude, i, 109;
    Barry's Opinion, i, 109;
    Schlegel's, i, 110.

  Fine Arts, Golden Age of, in Greece, i, 11.

  Fine Arts, Golden Age of, in Rome, ii, 152

  Fine Arts, Golden Age of, In Italy, ii, 149.

  Finiguerra, Maso--his Invention of Copper-Plate Engraving, i, 287.

  Fiorentino, Stefano, one of the Fathers of Painting, ii, 286.

  Foreshortening, ii, 145;
    its Invention, ii, 145.

  Fontana, Domenico, iii, 33;
    his Removal of an Obelisk at Rome, iii, 34;
    Dangers he Encountered, iii, 37;
    Honors bestowed on him for his Success, iii, 40.

  Force of Habit, i, 202.

  Fornarina, La Bella, i, 75.

  Fountain, the Elephant, iii, 286.

  "Four Carlos of the 17th Century," ii, 184.

  "Four Finest Pictures at Rome," ii, 183

  Frescos, Ancient, ii, 55;
    the Aldobrandini Wedding, ii, 56.

  Fuseli, Henry--his Birth, ii, 59;
    his Early Passion for Art, ii, 59;
    his Literary and Poetical Taste, ii, 60;
    Fuseli, Lavater, and the Unjust Magistrate, ii, 61;
    his Travels and Literary Distinction, ii, 62;
    his Arrival in London, ii, 63;
    his Change from Literature to Painting, ii, 63;
    his Visit to Italy, ii, 65;
    his "Nightmare," ii, 66;
    his OEdipus and his Daughters, ii, 66;
    Fuseli and the Shakspeare Gallery, ii, 67;
    his Hamlet's Ghost, ii, 69;
    his Titania, ii, 69;
    his Election as a Royal Academician, ii, 70;
    Fuseli and Walpole, ii, 71;
    Fuseli and Coutts, ii, 72;
    Fuseli and Prof. Porson, ii, 72;
    his Method of giving Vent to his Passion, ii, 73;
    his Love of Terrific Subjects, ii, 73;
    his Revenge on Lawrence, ii, 74;
    his Estimate of Reynolds as an Historical Painter, ii, 75;
    his Friendship for Lawrence, ii, 75;
    Fuseli as Keeper of the Royal Academy, ii, 76;
    his Jests and Oddities with the Students, ii, 77;
    his Sarcasms on Northcote, ii, 78;
    on various Artists, ii, 79;
    his Retorts, ii, 80;
    his Retort in Mr. Coutts' Banking-House, ii, 82;
    his Sarcasm on Landscape and Portrait Painters, ii, 83;
    his own Attainment of Happiness, ii, 84;
    his Habits, ii, 84;
    his Wife's Novel Method of Curing his Fits of Despondency, ii, 85;
    his Personal Appearance, Sarcastic Disposition, and Quick
    Temper, ii, 86;
    his Near Sight, ii, 87;
    his Popularity, ii, 88;
    his Artistic Merits, ii, 88;
    his Milton Gallery, etc., ii, 89.

  Fulton, Robert, as a Painter, i, 122;
    his Love of Art, i, 123;
    his Exalted Mind, i, 123;
    his Account of his first Steamboat Voyage to Albany, and his
    Predictions, i, 124.

  Gallery, English National, i, 107.

  Gallery, Dresden, iii, 262.

  Gallery of the Louvre, iii, 289 and 302.

  Gallery, United States National--Suggestions for One, iii, 307.

  Galleries, Prices of, i, 112.

  Galletti, Pietro, and the Bolognese Students, ii, 184.

  Garland Twiner, i, 148.

  Gaulli, Gio. Battista--his Excellence in Portraiture, iii, 250;
    his curious method of Painting the Dead, iii, 250.

  Genius, Trials of, i, 1, and iii, 80.

  Ghiberti, Lorenzo--his famous Doors of San Giovanni, i, 60, and iii, 101;
    as an Architect, iii, 102.

  Giordano, Luca--his Wonderful Precocity, ii, 224;
    his Enthusiasm, ii, 225;
    Origin of his Nickname of _Luca-fa Presto_, ii, 226;
    his Skill in copying and Imitating, ii, 226;
    his Success at Naples, ii, 227;
    Giordano, the Viceroy, and the Duke of Diano, ii, 228;
    his Invitation to Florence--Giordano and Carlo Dolci, ii, 229;
    his Invitation to the Court of Spain, ii, 230;
    his Flattering Reception, ii, 230;
    his Works in Spain, ii, 231;
    in the Escurial, ii, 232;
    his Habits, iii 233;
    his first Picture at Madrid, ii, 233;
    a great Favorite at Court, ii, 234;
    Coello's Challenge, ii, 234;
    Anecdotes, ii, 234;
    Painting with his Fingers, ii, 235;
    Rich Presents he Received, ii, 236;
    his Return to Naples, ii, 236;
    his Reception at Genoa, Florence, Rome and Naples, ii, 237;
    his Personal Appearance and Character, ii, 237;
    his Popularity, Love of Gain, and "Three Sorts of Pencils," ii, 238;
    his Riches, ii, 238;
    his Wonderful Facility of Hand, ii, 239;
    his Fame and Reputation, ii, 240;
    his Genius and merits, ii, 241;
    his Tricks for Notoriety, his False Style and its Injurious Effects
    on Art at the Time, ii, 241;
    Remarkable Instance of his Rapidity of Execution in his altar-piece
    of St. Francis Xavier, ii, 242.

  Giotto--Sketch of his Life, ii, 257;
    his Early Passion for Art, ii, 257;
    his Works, ii, 258;
    as an Architect, ii, 259;
    his St. Francis Stigmata, ii, 259;
    his Invitation to Rome, ii, 260;
    "Round as Giotto's O," ii, 261;
    Story of his Living Model, ii, 262;
    Giotto and the King of Naples, ii, 264;
    his Bon Mots, ii, 265;
    Giotto and Dante, ii, 266;
    Death of Giotto ii 266.

  Giottino, ii, 286.

  Gladiator, Statue of the Dying, i, 144.

  Gladiator, Statue of the Fighting, ii, 187.

  Glass, Ancient, ii, 57;
    Ancient Pictures of, ii, 58.

  Golden Age of Art in Greece, i, 11, and ii, 154.

  Golden Age of Art in Rome, ii, 152.

  Golden Age of Art in Italy, ii, 149.

  Goldsmith, Dr., and Reynolds, i, 199;
    his "Deserted Village," i, 200;
    his Retaliation, i, 200.

  Gomez, the Slave of Murillo, iii, 195.

  Grecian Art derived from the Egyptians, iii, 1.

  Greenough, Horatio--his Chanting Cherubs, i, 67;
    Commission for his Statue of Washington for the Capitol, i, 68;
    his Modesty, i, 69;
    his account of the Miraculous Picture of the Virgin at
    Florence, iii, 211.

  Griffier, John--his Perilous Adventure, iii, 245.

  Group of Niobe and her Children, ii, 185.

  Group of Laocoön and his Sons, ii, 187.

  Guercino--his Power of Relief, ii, 140.

  Hals, Frank, and Vandyck, ii, 312.

  Hanneman--his picture of Peace, i, 310.

  Harpies, Curious Representations of, iii, 181.

  Heliopolis, iii, 7.

  Herculaneum--its Destruction--Antiquities and Works of Art
    discovered, ii, 43.

  Hogarth--Value of his Works, i, 6;
    his Genius, i, 166;
    his Apprenticeship, i, 167;
    his Revenge, i, 168;
    his Method of Sketching an Incident, i, 168;
    his Marriage, i, 168;
    his Successful Expedient to get Payment, i, 169;
    his Picture of the Red Sea, i, 170;
    his Courtesy, i, 171;
    his Absence of Mind, i, 171;
    his March to Finchley, i, 172;
    his unfortunate Dedication to the King, i, 172;
    his Strange Manner of Selling his Pictures, i, 172;
    Paltry Prices he received, i, 174;
    his last Work, "the Tail-Piece," i, 175;
    his Death, i, 176.

  Holbein, Hans, ii, 216;
    his Portrait with the Fly, ii, 216;
    his Visit to England, ii, 216;
    Holbein and Henry VIII., ii, 217;
    his Adventure with the Nobleman, ii, 217;
    the King's Rebuke and Protection, ii, 218;
    his Portrait of the Duchess of Milan, ii, 218;
    his Dangerous Flattery, ii, 219;
    his Portrait of Cratzer, ii, 219;
    his Portraits of Sir Thomas More and his Family, ii, 220;
    Bon-Mot of Sir Thomas, ii, 221.

  Illusions in Painting, i, 228;
    Singular Pictorial, ii, 137.

  Industry necessary to Success in Art--Reynold's Opinion, i, 201;
    Durer's, iii, 228 and 234;
    Michael Angelo's, i, 60;
    Apelles', i, 19;
    Da Vinci's, i, 275, 280, and 282;
    Vernet's, ii, 297 and 299;
    Rubens', i, 80 and 82;
    Raffaelle's, i, 71;
    Poussin's, iii, 150 and 161;
    Gierdano's, ii, 226 and 233;
    Brunelleschi's, iii, 81 and 84.

  Infelicities of Artists, i, 1-6.

  Ingenuity of Artists, iii, 178.

  Inquisition, Evil Influence of the, on Spanish Art, i, 211;
    and Torreggiano, i, 2;
    and Sir Anthony Moore, iii, 243.

  Jarvis, John Wesley, i, 113;
    his Eccentricity, and Lore of Jesting, Mimicking, and
    Story-Telling, i, 113;
    his Ludicrous Readings from Shakspeare, i, 115;
    Dr. Francis' Account of him, i, 116;
    the "Biggest Lie," i, 118;
    Jarvis and Bishop Moore, i, 119;
    and Commodore Perry, i, 119;
    and the Philosopher, i, 120;
    and Dr. Mitchell, i, 120;
    his Habits, i, 121;
    Jarvis and Sully, i, 122;
    his Fondness for Notoriety, i, 122.

  Jervas, Charles, ii, 213;
    Jervas and Pope, ii, 214;
    and Dr. Arbuthnot, ii, 215;
    his Vanity, ii, 215;
    Kneller's Sarcasm, ii, 216.

  Jewelers, a hint to, iii, 179.

  Johnson, Dr.--his Friendship for Reynolds, i, 196;
    his Apology for Portrait Painting, i, 197;
    his Portrait, i, 198;
    his Death, i, 199.

  Julian the Apostate--his Attempt to rebuild Jerusalem, ii, 160.

  Jupiter--see Temples and Statues.

  Kirk, Thomas--his Genius, Misfortune, and untimely Death, i, 5.

  Kneller, Sir Godfrey--his Arrival in England, and great Success, i, 96;
    Kneller's Portrait of Charles II., i, 99;
    Kneller and James II., i, 97;
    his Compliment to Louis XIV., i, 97;
    his Wit and Bon-Mots, i, 98;
    his Knowledge of Physiognomy, i, 99;
    Kneller as a Justice of the Peace, i, 99;
    his Decisions regulated by Equity rather than Law, i, 99;
    Kneller and Clostermans, i, 100.

  La Bella Fornarina, i, 75.

  Labyrinth of Egypt, iii, 11.

  Lake Moeris, iii, 9.

  Lamps, Perpetual, ii, 182.

  Laocoön, Group of the, ii, 187;
    Pliny's Account of, ii, 189;
    Michael Angelo's Opinion, ii, 190;
    Sangallo's Account of its Discovery, ii, 190.

  Lanfranco, the Cav., ii, 91;
    his Hostility to Domenichino, ii, 125.

  Lasson, M. de--his Caricature, ii, 311.

  Layard--his Nineveh and its Remains, ii, 34.

  Lebas, M.--his Removal of an Obelisk from Thebes to Paris, iii, 40.

  Louvre, Gallery of the, iii, 302;
    Dismantling of, iii, 289.

  Love makes a Painter, i, 112, i, 148, i, 235, and iii, 195.

  Love of Art among the Romans, i, 146.

  Luca-fa-Presto, ii, 226.

  Mabuse, John de, Anecdote of, iii, 246.

  Mandrocles' Bridge across the Bosphorus, ii, 162.

  March, Estéban--his Strange Method of Study, iii, 198;
    his Adventure of the Fish fried in Linseed Oil, iii, 199.

  Marbles, very curious Imitations of, ii, 147.

  Marbles, the Elgin, ii, 171.

  Matsys, Quintin, i, 112;
    his Love and Monument, i, 113.

  Masters, the Old, i, 111.

  Mausolus, Tomb of, ii, 161.

  Mechanics, Comparative Skill of the Ancients and Moderns in, iii, 45.

  Medals, 70,000 Ancients, iii, 272.

  Medals of Napoleon, iii, 281.

  Memphis, iii, 8.

  Messina, Antonella da, ii, 143.

  Methodius and the King of Bulgaria, iii, 206.

  Mieris and Jan Steen, Frolics of, iii, 241.

  Mignard Pierre--his Skill in imitating other Masters, i, 186;
    amusing instance of, i, 187;
    his Skill in Portraits, ii, 138.

  Modesty, an Overplus of, dangerous to Success, i, 307.

  Moeris, Lake of, iii, 9.

  More, Sir Anthony, iii, 242;
    his Visit to Spain and great Success, iii, 242;
    his Visit to England and flattering Reception, iii, 243;
    More and Philip II., iii, 244;
    his fortunate Escape, iii, 244;
    his Success and Works, iii, 244.

  Morland, George--Sketch of his Life, ii. 197;
    his wonderful Precocity, ii, 198;
    his early Fame, ii, 199;
    his Mental and Moral Culture under an Unnatural Parent, ii, 260;
    his Escape from his Thraldom, ii, 201;
    his Marriage and Temporary Reform, ii, 202;
    his Social Position, ii, 203;
    his unpleasant Encounter, ii, 204;
    his Stay in the Isle of Wight, ii, 205;
    his Novel Mode of fulfilling commissions, ii, 206;
    Morland and the Pig, ii, 206;
    his Pictures in the Isle of Wight, ii, 207;
    his Freaks, ii, 208;
    his Dread of Bailiffs, ii, 208;
    his Apprehension as a Spy, ii, 209;
    his Sign of the "Black Bull," ii, 210;
    Morland and the Pawnbroker, ii, 211;
    his Idea of a Baronetcy, ii, 212;
    his Artistic Merits, ii, 212.

  Mosaics, i, 15;
    ancient, ii, 55;
    of the Battle of Platea, ii, 55.

  Mudo, El, and Titian's Last Supper, ii, 14.

  Murillo, i. 236;
    his Visit to Madrid and Velasquez, i, 236;
    his Return to Seville, i, 237;
    Murillo and Iriarte, i, 238;
    his Death, i, 238;
    his Style, i, 239;
    his Works, i, 240;
    Soult's Murillos, i, 240 and 242;
    Castillo's Tribute, i, 242;
    his "Virgin of the Napkin," iii, 193;
    his pictures in Spanish America, iii, 192;
    Anecdote of an Altar-Piece in Flanders, iii, 194;
    his Slave Gomez, iii, 195.

  Musée Francais and Musée Royal, iii, 302.

  Names of Architects designated by Reptiles, ii, 156.

  Napoleon--his Love of Art, iii, 274;
    his Enlightened Policy to Encourage Art, iii, 275;
    his Works at Paris, iii, 276;
    The Napoleon Medals, iii, 281;
    the Elephant Fountain, iii, 286;
    Interesting Drawing, iii, 287;
    Sévres China, iii, 288;
    Dismantling of the Louvre, iii, 289;
    Removal of the Venetian Horses, iii, 296;
    Removal of the Statue of Napoleon from the Column of
    Austerlitz, iii, 301.

  Needles, Cleopatra's, iii, 42.

  Niello, Works in, i, 286.

  Nineveh and its Remains, ii, 34;
    Description of the Royal Palace exhumed at Nimroud, ii, 37;
    Layard's description of its interior, ii,39.

  Niobe and her Children, Group of, ii, 185;
    Schlegel's Criticism, ii, 186.

  Nollekens, Joseph, i, 301;
    his Visit to Rome, i, 301;
    Nollekens and Garrick, i, 302;
    his Talents in Bust Sculpture, i, 303;
    his Bust of Johnson, i, 304;
    his Liberality and Kindness to Chantrey, i, 304;
    Nollekens and the Widow, i, 305;
    his odd Compliments, i, 306.

  Norgate, Edward--his Visit to Italy, Mishaps, and travelling Home on
    foot, i, 308.

  Northcote, James, and Fuseli, ii, 78.

  Numismatics, iii, 269;
    Value of the Science to Archæology, Philology, the Fine
    Arts, etc., iii, 270;
    70,000 Ancient Medals, iii, 272.

  Obelisks, Egyptian, iii, 30;
    Number of, at Rome, ii, 152;
    Removal of one by Fontana, iii, 33;
    Removal of one from Thebes to Paris, iii, 40;
    Cleopatra's Needles, iii, 42.

  Odeon, the first at Athens, ii, 182.

  Olynthian Captive, Story of, i, 151.

  Origin of Label Painting, ii, 278.

  Pacheco--his Opinions on Art as restricted by the Inquisition, i, 212.

  Pareda, Antonio--his Artifice to Keep up Appearances, iii, 202.

  Pareja, Juan de, the Slave of Velasquez, i, 228;
    his Love of Painting and his Success, i, 229;
    his Gratitude to his Master, i, 229.

  Painter, perilous adventure of a, iii, 245

  Painter of Florence, Curious Legend of the, iii, 217

  Painter-Friar, the Devil, and the Virgin, iii, 220.

  Painting among the Egyptians, iii, 1 and 263.

  Painting among the Greeks, i, 22, 27, and iii, 265.

  Painting among the Romans, i, 88, and ii, 152.

  Painting, Revival of, in Italy, ii, 244.

  Painting, Italian Schools of, ii, 292.

  Painting, Golden Age of, in Italy, ii, 149;
    Lanzi's Philosophy of, ii, 150;
    Milizia's, ii, 154.

  Painting--different Schools Compared, i, 110.

  Painting, Effects of, on the Mind, i, 147.

  Painting from Nature, i, 18.

  Painting, Oil, Invention of, ii, 141.

  Painting, oldest Oil, extant, iii, 181.

  Painting, Portrait, Johnson's Apology for, i, 197.

  Painting, Origin of Label, ii, 278.

  Paintings transferred from Walls and Panels to Canvas, ii, 146.

  Paintings, Curious, iii, 180.

  Paintings, Evanescent, i, 106.

  Palace, Nero's Golden, ii, 155.

  Palaces of Rome, iii, 65.

  Palmaroli--his Method of transferring Paintings from Walls and Panels
    to Canvas, ii, 147.

  Pantoja and the Eagle, iii, 205.

  Parrhasius, i, 150;
    his Demos and other Works, i, 150;
    the Olynthian Captive, i, 151;
    his Vanity, i, 152.

  Parthenon at Athens, ii, 170;
    its Dilapidation, by the Venetians, Turks, and Lord Elgin, ii, 171.

  Pausias, i, 148; his Works and the Garland Twiner, i, 148.

  Perpetual Lamps, ii, 182.

  Pharos, Light-house of, ii, 164.

  Phidias, i, 157;
    his Statue of Minerva, i, 158, and ii, 171;
    Phidias and Alcamenes, i, 159;
    Ingratitude of the Athenians, i, 159;
    his Olympian Jupiter, i, 17, and i, 160;
    his Model for the Olympian Jupiter, i, 161.

  Picture of Ialysus and his Dog, Protogenes, i, 149, and i, 281.

  Picture of Calumny, Apelles', i, 94.

  Picture of the Virgin, the Miraculous, iii, 211.

  Pictures, first brought to Rome, i, 88.

  Pictures of Glass, Ancient, ii, 58.

  Pictures, Four finest at Rome, ii, 183.

  Pillar of On, iii, 8.

  Poecile at Athens, i, 13.

  Pompeii--its Destruction;
    Antiquities and Works of Art discovered, ii, 43;
    Vivid Sketch of its present Appearance, etc., by an American
    Traveler, ii, 46.

  Pope as a Painter--his Fame, i, 201;
    his Proficiency in the Art, ii, 214;
    his Idea of the Practicability of Dinocrates' Plan of cutting Mount
    Athos into a Statue of Alexander the Great, ii, 166.

  Portici, the Site of Herculaneum, ii, 44 and 46.

  Portraits, Female, Rarity of, in Spain, iii, 191.

  Poussin, Nicholas--his Noble Descent, iii, 148;
    his First Celebrity, iii, 149;
    his first Visit to Rome, iii, 150;
    his Enthusiasm and Assiduity, iii, 150;
    his Distress, and the Paltry Prices he received for his
    Works, iii, 151;
    his Ultimate Appreciation and Success, iii, 152;
    his Invitation back to Paris, iii, 153;
    the King's Autograph Letter on the Occasion, iii, 153;

  Intrigues, his Disgust, and Secret Return to Rome, iii, 154;
    his Modesty, unostentatious Mode of Living, and his
    Generosity, iii, 155;
    Poussin and Cardinal Mancini, iii, 155;
    Reynolds' Critique, iii, 156;
    Poussin and Marino, iii, 159;
    Poussin Romanized, iii, 160;
    his Habits of Study, iii, 161;
    his Old Age, iii, 162;
    his Master-Piece, iii, 163;
    his last Work and Death, iii, 163;
    his Letter to M. Felibien, iii, 164;
    his Ideas of Painting, iii, 164;
    Poussin and the Nobleman, iii, 165;
    and Mengs, iii, 165;
    and Domenichino, iii, 166;
    and Salvator Rosa, iii, 166;
    his Dignity, iii, 167;
    Poussin, Angelo, and Raffaelle compared, iii, 168.

  Prado, Blas de, and the Emperor of Morocco, iii, 207.

  Praxiteles, i, 155;
    his Works--the Venus of Cnidus and the Apollo Sauroctonos, i, 155;
    Praxiteles and Phryne, i, 156;
    the King of Bithynia, and the Venus of Cnidus, i, 157.

  Press, Hydraulic, explained, iii 52;
    its Tremendous Power and Use, iii, 53.

  Proctor, his Genius and Works, i, 4;
    his Misfortunes and melancholy Death, i, 5.

  Protogenes, i, 149;
    his Works, and his famous picture of Ialysus and his Dog, i, 149;
    Protogenes and Demetrius Poliorcetes, i, 28, and i, 149;
    and Apelles, i, 25.

  Pyramids of Egypt, iii, 19.

  Pyramid of Cephren, Perilous Ascent of, iii, 27.

  Raffaelle, i, 70;
    his ambition, i, 70;
    Raffaelle and Michael Angelo, i, 71;
    his Transfiguration, i, 72;
    his Death, i, 74;
    his Character, i, 74;
    his Mistress, i, 75;
    his Genius, i, 76;
    his Model for his Female Saints, i, 76;
    his Oil Paintings, i, 77;
    his Portraits of Julius II., i, 78;
    his different Manners, i, 78;
    his Skill in Portraits, ii, 138;
    Skull of Raffaelle in the Academy of St Luke, ii, 183.

  Ranc, Jean--his Retort, iii, 201.

  Rebuke, a Painter's just, iii, 200.

  Retort Courteous, a Painter's, iii, 201.

  Rembrandt--Sketch of his Life, iii, 170;
    his Studio and Models, iii, 171;
    his great Success, iii, 172;
    his Deceits to sell and increase the Price of his Works, iii, 173;
    his numerous Works, iii, 173;
    his extraordinary Merits as an Engraver, iii, 174.

  Reynolds, Sir Joshua, i, 188;
    his pleasing Manners, Fortune, and Collection of Works of Art, i, 189;
    his new Style and its Success, i, 189;
    his Prices, i, 191;
    his Method with his Sitters, i, 192;
    his Removal to Leicester Square, i, 192;
    his showy Coach, i, 193;
    his Table and Guests, i, 194;
    the Founding of the Royal Academy, and his election as
    President, i, 194;
    Reynolds and Dr. Johnson, i, 195;
    Johnson's Friendship for Reynolds, and his Apology for Portrait
    Painting, i, 196 and 197;
    the Literary Club, i, 198;
    Johnson's Portrait, i, 198;
    Johnson's Death, i, 199;
    Reynolds and Dr. Goldsmith, i, 199;
    the "Deserted Village," i, 200;
    "Retaliation," i, 200;
    Pope's Fan i, 201;
    Reynolds' first Attempts in Art, i, 202;
    Force of Habit, i, 202;
    Paying the Piper, i, 203;
    his Modesty and his Generosity, i, 203;
    his Love of Art, i, 204;
    his Critique on Rubens, i, 205;
    Reynolds and Haydn, i, 206;
    his Skill in Compliment, i, 207;
    his Excellent Advice, i, 208;
    Reynolds as Mayor of Plympton and his two Portraits, i, 208;
    his Kindness of Heart, i, 209;
    Burke's Eulogy, i, 209;
    his Experiments and Use of Old Paintings, i, 210;
    his Method of Working, i, 193;
    Rubens' Last Supper, i, 206.

  Rhodes, Statues and Paintings at, ii, 164.

  Ribalta Francisco--his Love Romance and his Success, i, 235.

  Ribera, Giuseppe, (Spagnoletto,) his Early Enthusiasm, Poverty, and
    Industry at Rome, ii, 133;
    his Return to Naples and Marriage, ii, 134;
    his Rise to Eminence, ii, 135;
    his Discovery of the Philosopher's Stone, ii, 135;
    his Favorite Subjects, ii. 136;
    his Disposition, ii, 137;
    his Intrigues, ii, 138;
    Lanzi's Account of his Death, ii, 132.

  Riley, John, i, 307;
    his Diffidence and Merits, i, 308.

  Rizi, Francisco--his Rebuke to Antonilez, iii, 200.

  Romans, Fondness of, for Works of Art, i, 88;
    for Etruscan Sculpture, i, 90.

  Rome, Ancient, Glory of, ii, 152, and iii, 57 and 71;
    first Pictures brought to Rome, i, 88;
    Electioneering pictures at Rome, i, 91;
    Dramatic Scenery at Rome, i, 93;
    Ancient Map of Rome, ii, 160;
    100,000 Statues at Rome, ii, 152.

  Rome, Modem--its Churches, Palaces, Villas, and Treasures of
    Art, iii, 60.

  Rosa, Salvator, ii, 91;
    Cav. Lanfranco's Generosity, ii, 91;
    Rosa at Rome and Florence, ii, 92;
    his Return to Rome, ii, 93;
    brightest Era of Landscape Painting, ii, 93;
    his Subjects, ii, 93;
    his wonderful Facility of Execution, ii, 94;
    his Flagellation by the Monks, ii, 95;
    Rosa and the higgling Prince, ii, 96;
    his Opinion of his own Works, ii, 98;
    his Banditti, ii, 98;
    Rosa and Massaniello, ii, 100;
    and Cardinal Sforza, ii, 100;
    his Manifesto, ii, 101;
    his Banishment from Rome, ii, 102;
    his Secret Visit to Rome, ii, 102;
    his Wit, ii, 103;
    his Reception at Florence, ii, 103;
    his Histrionic Powers, ii, 104;
    his Reception at the Pitti Palace, ii, 105;
    his Satires, ii, 92 and 105;
    his Harpsichord, ii, 106;
    Rare Portrait, ii, 106;
    his Return to Rome, ii, 109;
    his Love of Show and Magnificence, ii, 109;
    his Last Works, ii, 111;
    his over-weening Desire to be considered a Historical Painter, ii, 112;
    Ghigi, his Physician and Rosa, ii, 113;
    Lady Morgan's Account of his Death-Bed, ii, 115;
    Rosa and Poussin iii, 166;
    Rosa and Fracanzani, iii, 256.

  Rosada Tivoli, iii, 185;
    his Works, iii, 186;
    his wonderful Rapidity of Hand, iii, 186;
    a Wager won, iii, 187;
    his Habits and Improvidence, iii, 187.

  Rosa, Giovanni--a modern Zeuxis, ii, 139.

  Rosalba, Carriera, iii, 133;
    her Modesty, and Knowledge of Tempers, iii, 133.

  Rubens, Peter Paul, i, 79;
    his Visit to Italy, i, 80;
    his Reception by the Duke of Mantua, i, 80;
    his Enthusiasm, i, 80;
    his Embassy to Spain, i, 81;
    his Return to Antwerp, i, 81;
    his Marriage, House, and rich collection of Works of Art, i, 81;
    his Habits, Extraordinary Memory and Acquirements, i, 82;
    his Detractors, i, 82;
    his Magnanimity, i, 83;
    the Gallery of the Luxembourg, i, 83;
    Rubens sent Ambassador to the Courts of Spain and England, i, 83;
    his Reception and Works at Madrid, i, 84;
    his Reception and Works in England, i, 84;
    his Delicacy, Address, and the Honors conferred on him on the
    occasion, i, 85;
    his Death, i, 85;
    his Numerous Works, i, 86;
    his Method of Working, i, 206.

  Ruysch, Rachel--her Life and Works, iii, 135.

  Scagliola or Mischia, Works in, ii, 147.

  Schwarts, amusing Anecdote of, iii, 175.

  Sculpture, Invention of, i, 153;
    Etruscan, i, 90;
    Egyptian, iii, 1;
    Grecian, i, 154 and 157.

  Sculptures, Antique, at Rome, ii, 159.

  Seymour, Anecdotes of, and the Proud Duke, ii, 223.

  Shakspeare Gallery, iii, 305.

  Sirani, Elizabeth--her Life and Works, iii, 134;
    her melancholy Death, iii, 135.

  Soane, Sir John, ii, 191;
    his Success and Works, ii, 192;
    his Liberality and Public Munificence, ii, 192;
    his Museum, ii, 193 ;
    the Belzoni Sarcophagus, ii, 194;
    Tasso's MS. of Gerusalemme Liberata, ii, 195;
    other rare MSS., Antiquities, Works of Art, etc., ii, 195.

  Sostratus, his Light-House on the Isle of Pharos, ii, 164.

  Spagnoletto--See Ribera.

  Spain, Melancholy State of the Fine Arts in, i, 217;
    Rarity of Female Portraits in, iii, 191.

  Spanish Art, Evil Effects of the Inquisition on, i, 211.

  Sphinx, the Colossal, iii, 10.

  Stabiæ--its Destruction, ii, 43.

  Statue of the Apollo Belvidere, i, 41;
    of the Apollo Sauroctonos, i, 155;
    of the Apollo, Colossal Etruscan, i, 90.

  Statue of the Venus de Medici, i, 147.

  Statue of the Venus of Cnidus, i, 156

  Statue of the Venus Victrix, i, 147.

  Statue of Minerva, Phidia's, i, 158, and ii, 171.

  Statue of the Olympian Jupiter, Phidias', i, 160

  Statue of the Fighting Gladiator, ii, 187.

  Statue of the Dying Gladiator, i, 144.

  Statue of Pompey the Great, ii, 159.

  Statue of Semiramis, cut out of a Mountain, ii, 167.

  Statue of Napoleon on the Column of Austerlitz, iii, 301.

  Statue, Equestrian, of Peter the Great, iii, 42.

  Statues, the Greek, i, 109.

  Statues, Sounding, iii, 6.

  Statues of Memnon, iii, 6.

  Stratagem, an Architect's, i, 309.

  Stratagem, Hogarth's, i, 169.

  Steen, Jan, iii, 238;
    his Works, iii, 238;
    Kugler's Critique on, iii, 240;
    Frolics of Steen and Mieris, iii, 241.

  Stephenson, Robert, and the Britannia Bridge, iii, 46.

  Stuart, Charles Gilbert, i, 124;
    his Visit to Scotland and Return before the Mast, i, 125;
    his Visit to London, i, 125;
    his Skill in Music, and its Use in Time of Need, i, 126;
    his Introduction to West, i, 126;
    his Portrait of West, i, 126;
    his Scholarship, i, 131;
    his Rule of half prepayment, i, 131;
    his Powers of Perception i, 132;
    Allston's Eulogium, i, 133;
    his great Conversational Powers, i, 133;
    his Success in Europe, i, 136;
    in Ireland, i, 136;
    his Return to America, i, 137;
    Stuart and Washington, i, 137;
    his Last Picture, i, 142;
    Stuart, his Boy and his Dog, i, 142;
    his Mark, i, 142.

  Tasso's MS. of "Gerusalemme Liberata," ii, 195.

  Temple of Diana at Ephesus, i, 144.

  Temple of Jupiter Olympius at Athens, ii, 168.

  Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, ii, 153, and iii, 59.

  Temple of Minerva at Athens, ii, 170.

  Temple of Carnac, iii, 5.

  Temple of Luxor, iii, 5.

  Titian--Sketch of his Life, ii, 1;
    his famous picture of St. Peter the Martyr, ii, 2;
    his Refusal of the Office of the Leaden Seal, ii, 4;
    his different Manners, ii, 5;
    his Works, ii, 6;
    his Imitators, ii, 7;
    his Venus, ii, 8;
    Ottley's Description of it, ii, 8;
    Titian and the Emperor Charles V., ii. 10;
    extraordinary Friendship of Charles for Titian, his Favors and
    Remarkable Sayings, ii, 11;
    Charles' rebukes to his jealous Nobles, ii, 12;
    Titian and Philip II., ii, 13;
    his Letter of Congratulation to Philip, ii, 13;
    Philip and the Titian Venus, ii, 14;
    Titian's Last Supper and El Mudo, ii, 14;
    his Old Age, ii, 15;
    Monument to Titian, ii, 15.

  Thebes, Ancient, iii, 2.

  Theodoric the Great--his Love of Art, iii, 73.

  Torregiano--his Visit to Spain, and his Group of the Virgin and
    Child, i, 1;
    his Horrid Treatment and Death, i, 2.

  Torres--Sarcasm on his Imitations of Caravaggio, iii, 205.

  Transfiguration of Raffaelle, i, 72.

  Tristan, Luis, i, 229;
    Tristan and Velasquez, i, 229;
    Tristan and El Greco, i, 230.

  "Triumvirate of Historical Painters," i, 244.

  "Triumvirate of Landscape Painters," ii, 93.

  Triumvirate of Neapolitan Painters, Intrigues of, ii, 128.

  Uccello, Paolo, one of the Fathers of Painting, ii, 287;
    his Enthusiasm, ii, 288;
    Uccello and the Monks of San Miniato, ii, 289;
    his remarkable Picture of the most distinguished Artists of his
    Time, ii, 290;
    his Incredulity of St. Thomas, ii, 291;
    Uccello and Donatello, ii, 292.

  Utility of Ancient Works, ii, 280.

  Vanbrugh, Sir John, and his Severe Critics, ii, 221;
    Reynolds' celebrated Criticism in his favor, ii, 221.

  Vase, the Portland, ii, 56.

  Vandyck, Sir Anthony--his Conduct in the School of Rubens, iii, 136;
    his Visit to Italy, iii, 138;
    his Return to Antwerp, iii, 139;
    his Success and the Jealousy of Artists, iii, 140;
    his celebrated Picture of the Elevation of the Cross, and the Canons
    of Courtray, iii, 140;
    his Visit to England, iii, 141;
    his Success and Honors, iii, 141;
    his Death and Character, iii, 142;
    Remarkable Instance of his Rapidity of Execution, ii, 312.

  Velasquez, Don Diego, i, 226;
    Velasquez and Rubens compared by Mrs. Jameson, i, 226;
    Velasquez and Philip IV--the favors and extraordinary Honors
    conferred on him, i, 227;
    his Skill in Portraits, i, 227;
    his Portrait of Innocent X, i, 228;
    his Generosity to his Slave, i, 228.

  Velde, William van de, the Elder, iii, 143;
    his Intrepidity in Painting Naval Engagements, iii, 143;
    his Invitation to England and his Works, iii, 143;
    Van de Velde and Charles II., iii, 145.

  Velde, William van de, the Younger, iii, 145;
    his Admirable Works, iii, 146;
    Present Value of his Works, iii, 147;
    his numerous Drawings, and their Estimation and Value, iii, 148.

  Veneziano, Domenico, ii, 144;
    his treacherous Death, ii, 144.

  Venice, Foundation of, iii, 72.

  Venetian Horses, the famous, Removal of from Paris, iii, 296.

  Venus Anadyomene, i, 2.

  Venus of Cnidus, i, 155.

  Venus de Medici, i, 147.

  Venus Victrix, i, 147.

  Venus, Titian's, ii, 8.

  Vermeyen, John C., and the Emperor Charles V., iii, 206;
    his singular Dress and long Beard, iii, 207.

  Vernet, Claude Joseph, ii, 295;
    his Passion for Art, and his Precocity, ii, 295;
    his Enthusiasm, ii, 296;
    his Sketching the Tempest, lashed to the Mast, ii, 297;
    his Arrival at Rome, ii, 298;
    his Industry and Poverty, ii, 299;
    his "Alphabet of Tones," ii, 299;
    Vernet and the Connoisseur, ii, 301;
    his Success and Works, ii, 301;
    Diderot's Eulogy, ii, 303;
    his Passion for Music, ii, 306;
    his Opinion of his own Artistic Merits, ii, 307;
    Characteristic Letter to the Marquis de Marigny, ii, 309;
    his Prices, ii, 310.

  Vernet, Charles, ii, 310;
    his Works, ii, 310;
    his rebuke to a Minister of State, ii, 311.

  Vernet, Horace--his Life, Style, and Works, ii, 16-28.

  Vieira, Francisco--his Love Romance, iii, 195;
    his Success, iii, 198.

  Vinci, Lionardo da, i, 266;
    Precocity of his Genius, i, 266;
    his first remarkable Picture, i, 267;
    the extraordinary Versatility of his Talents, i, 268;
    his Works at Milan, i, 268;
    his famous Battle of the Standard, i, 270;
    Vinci and Leo X., i, 271;
    Vinci and Francis I., i, 271;
    his Death, i, 272;
    his Learning, i, 272;
    his Writings, i, 273;
    his Sketch Books, i, 275;
    his Last Supper, i, 276;
    Copies of his Last Supper, i, 278;
    his Discrimination, i, 279;
    his Idea of Perfection in Art, i, 280;
    Vinci and the Prior, i, 282;
    his Drawings of the Heads in the Last Supper, i, 284;
    Francis I. and the Last Supper, i, 284;
    Authenticated Works of Da Vinci, i, 285.

  Weenix, John Baptist the Elder, iii, 236;
    his wonderful Facility of Hand, iii, 236.

  Weenix, the Younger, iii, 237.

  Weesop, Anecdote of, i, 310.

  West, Benjamin--his Opinion of the Value of the Fine Arts to a
    Country, i, 8;
    Anecdotes of West, i, 28;
    his Ancestry, i, 28;
    his Birth, i, 29;
    his First Remarkable Feat, i, 30;
    his doings with the Indians, i, 30;
    his Cat's-Tail's Pencils, i, 30;
    his First Picture, i, 31;
    his First Visit to Philadelphia, i, 32;
    his Ambition, i, 33;
    his First Patrons, i, 34;
    his Education, i, 35;
    his Dedication to Art, i, 36;
    his Early Prices, i, 38;
    his Arrival at Rome, i, 39;
    his Reception at Rome, i, 40;
    his Criticism on the Apollo Belvidere, i, 41;
    his Early Friends, i, 41;
    his Course of Study, i, 42;
    a Remarkable Prophecy, i, 43;
    West in London--his Fondness for Skating, i, 44;
    his Death of Wolfe, i, 45;
    his Defense for Innovation before the King, i, 46;
    Stuart's Anecdotes of West, i, 127-131.

  Wilson, Richard--his Poverty and Want of Appreciation, i, 6;
    Present Value of his Works, i, 6.

  Winde William--his successful Stratagem, i, 399.

  Wissing, William--Freedom of the Times in England in the reign of
    Charles II., i, 309.

  Wolf, the Bronze, "the Thunder-Stricken Nurse of Rome", i, 90.

  Wonders, the Seven, of the World, iii, 75.

  Wren, Sir Christopher, i, 290;
    his Self-Command, i, 290;
    his Restraints in designing his Edifices, i, 292;
    the great Fire in London, i, 293;
    St. Paul's Cathedral, i, 294;
    his Death, i, 295;
    Wren and Charles II., i, 295.

  Zuccaro, Taddeo, iii, 250; his Poverty, Enthusiasm, and Works, iii, 251.

  Zuccaro, Federigo--his Resentment, iii, 251; Royal Criticism on his
    Self-Adulation, iii, 252.


[Footnote 1: Arnolfo had proposed to raise the cupola immediately above
the first cornice, from the model of the church in the chapel of the
Spaniards, where the cupola is extremely small. Arnolfo was followed by
Giotto in 1331. To Giotto succeeded Taddeo Gaddi, after whom, first
Andrea Orgagna, next Lorenzo di Filippo, and lastly Brunelleschi were
architects of the Cathedral.]

[Footnote 2: The story of Columbus and the Egg is familiar to every one.
The jest undoubtedly originated with Brunelleschi, as it is attested by
many of the Italian writers; it happened in 1420, fourteen years before
Columbus was born. Toscanelli was a great admirer of Brunelleschi, whose
knowledge of the Scriptures and powers of argument were so great, that
he could successfully dispute in public assemblies, or in private with
the most learned theologians, so that Toscanelli was accustomed to say
that "to hear Filippo in argument, one might fancy one's self listening
to a second Paul." So capital a retort could hardly have failed to reach
Columbus, through his instructor, nor would he have hesitated to use it
against his antagonists under similar circumstances. Brunelleschi was
born in 1377 and died in 1444; Columbus in 1436, and died in 1506.]

[Footnote 3: Vasari means that Lorenzo continued to receive his salary
till 1426, although Filippo had been appointed sole master of the works
in 1423, as he himself relates in the sequel.]

[Footnote 4: How different was the treatment Ghiberti received from
Brunelleschi, when the artists presented their models for one of the
bronze doors of the Baptistery of San Giovanni at Florence. The designs
of Ghiberti, Brunelleschi, and Donatello, were considered the three
best; but the two latter, considering that Ghiberti was fairly entitled
to the prize, withdrew their claims in his favor, and persuaded the
syndics to adjudge the work to him. Brunelleschi was requested to
undertake the work in concert with Ghiberti, but he would not consent to
this, desiring to be first in some other art or undertaking than equal,
or perhaps secondary, in another. "Now, this was in truth," says Vasari,
"the sincere rectitude of friendship; it was talent without envy, and
uprightness of judgment in a decision respecting themselves, by which
these artists were more highly honored than they could have been by
conducting the work to the utmost summit of perfection. Happy spirits!
who, while aiding each other took pleasure in commending the labors of
their competitors. How unhappy, on the contrary, are the artists of our
day, laboring to injure each other, yet still unsatisfied, they burst
with envy, while seeking to wound others."]

[Footnote 5: This distrust seems astonishing, after what Brunelleschi
had accomplished, but it shows the opposition and enmity he had to
encounter. In 1434, he received a mortifying affront from the Guild of
Builders. Finding that he carried on the building without thinking to
pay the annual tax due from every artist who exercised his calling, they
caused him to be apprehended and thrown into prison. As soon as this
outrage was known to the wardens, they instantly assembled with
indignation, and issued a solemn decree, commanding that Filippo should
be liberated, and that the Consuls of the Guild should be imprisoned,
which was accordingly done. Baldinucci discovered and printed the
authentic document containing the decree, which is dated August 20,

[Footnote 6: Masselli says that the Tuscan braccio, is the ancient Roman
foot doubled for greater convenience, and is equal to one foot nine
inches and six lines, Paris measure. The editors of the Florentine
edition of Vasari, 1846-9, remark that the measure of the whole edifice
as given by Vasari, differs from that given by Fantozzi; the latter
gives 196 braccia as its total height. Milizia says, "Brunelleschi
completed his undertaking, which surpassed in height any work of the
ancients. The lantern alone remained imperfect; but he left a model for
it, and always recommended, even in his last moments, that it should be
built of heavy marble, because the cupola being raised on four arches,
it would have a tendency to spring upwards if not pressed with a heavy
weight. The three mathematicians who have written on the cupola of St.
Peter's, have clearly demonstrated a truth differing from the opinion of
Brunelleschi, viz., that the small cupola increases, in a great degree,
the lateral pressure. The whole height of the structure from the ground
to the top, is 385 feet; that is, to the lantern 293 feet, the latter
being 68 feet 6 inches; the ball 8 feet; the cross 15 feet 6 inches. *  *  *

"The plan of the dome is octangular; each side in the interior is 57
feet, and the clear width between the sides, not measuring into the
angles, is 137 feet; the walls are 16 feet 9 inches thick; the whole
length of the church is 500 feet. The nave has four pointed arches on
each side, on piers, separating it from the side aisles. The transept
and choir have no side aisles, but are portions of an octagon, attached
to the base of the dome, giving the whole plan the figure of a cross.
The edifice has a Gothic character, and is incrusted in marble and
mosaic work." *  *  *

According to Fontani, this cupola exceeds that of the Vatican, both in
height and circumference by four braccia; and although supported by
eight ribs only, which renders it much lighter than that of the Vatican,
which has sixteen flanking buttresses, it is nevertheless more solid and
firm. Thus it has never required to be supported by circling hoops of
iron, nor has it demanded the labors of the many engineers and
architects who have printed volumes upon the subject. The construction
of this cupola is remarkable in these particulars--that it is
octangular, that it is double, and built entirely on the walls,
unsupported by piers, and that there are no apparent counterforts.]

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Anecdotes of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors and Architects and Curiosities of Art (Vol. 3 of 3)" ***

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