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 The world's leading painters: Leonardo c 
 
 3 1924 008 738 332 
 
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Ube Motif's Xeaders 
 
 Edited by W. P. Trent 
 
 THE WORLD'S 
 LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI, RAPHAEL, TITIAN, 
 RUBENS, VELASQUEZ AND REMBRANDT 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE B. ROSE 
 
 Author of " Renaissance Masters " 
 
 WITH PORTRAITS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
7 7$/ 
 
 COFYSIGHT, 191^ 
 BY 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published Afrtl, igia 
 
 R79 
 
 
 CAMBLOT FP£Sf4f 44<(-4'S PKARL STREET, NBW YORK 
 
TO MY FATHER 
 U. M. ROSE 
 
 WHOSE LONG LIFE HAS BEEN DEVOTED TO 
 THE GOOD AND THE TRUE, I DEDICATE THIS 
 UNWORTHY TRIBUTE TO THE BEAUTIFUL 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The purpose of this book is to present in compact form 
 the results of the latest researches and criticism. Upon 
 many points in the lives of the painters, and as to the au- 
 thenticity of many of their works, there has been much con- 
 troversy. In brief biographies it is impossible to state the 
 conflicting arguments. The author can only consider them, 
 and, where a result seems to be established by a fair pre- 
 ponderance of the evidence, state it as a fact, at the risk of 
 being considered ignorant by those who take the con- 
 trary view. As to the^ authenticity of the pictures the au- 
 thor has accepted the opinions of the recognized experts, 
 only venturing to express his own judgment where they are 
 at hopeless variance. The views as to the merits of the 
 works mentioned are the author's own, arrived at after re- 
 peated examinations of each. The only exceptions are 
 those in the Hermitage at St. Petersburg and in some pri- 
 vate English collections, where he has been compelled to 
 rely on photographs and on the opinions of others. His 
 views will be found wanting in originality. This is not for 
 want of patient study, but because great masterpieces are 
 apt to make the same impression on normal minds. 
 
 A complete bibliography of the subject, or even a list of 
 the books, in several languages which the author has read 
 or consulted, would be too voluminous ; but for the benefit 
 of those who would pursue the study further a brief refer- 
 ence to the biographies that are to be found in English may 
 be welcome. 
 
 For the three great Italians the Liv*s of Vasari are still 
 valuable, despite their many errors; especially valuable in 
 
 v 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 I 
 
 the recent edition of Messrs. Hopkins and Blashfield, where, 
 in copious notes, Vasari's mistakes are corrected and his 
 deficiencies supplied. 
 
 Of Leonardo there is only one full life in English, that 
 of M. Eugene Miintz ; but this tells substantially all that is 
 known of Leonardo the artist, and is most readable. Of 
 the short lives by Rosenberg, Richter and Gronau, the last is 
 the best, despite its brevity. 
 
 Of Raphael there are three extensive biographies, by 
 Passavant, Miintz and Crowe and Cavalcaselle. Those by 
 Passavant and Miintz are full, accurate and entertaining. 
 The work of Crowe and Cavalcaselle is largely devoted to 
 tracing the origin of the master's paintings in his drawings, 
 and appeals rather to specialists. Of the short lives by 
 Grimm, Knackfuss, de Quincy, d'Anvers, Strachey and 
 Julia Cartwright, the last two are the best. Mr. Oppe has 
 recently published a valuable critical work, with process 
 illustrations of nearly all the master's pictures. 
 
 Of Titian there is only one full biography, that of Crowe 
 and Cavalcaselle ; but this is one of those monumental pro- 
 ductions that supersede all that went before and form new 
 points of departure. It is more readable than their Life of 
 Raphael. There are also short biographies by Heath, 
 Claude Phillips, Ricketts and Gronau. Mr. Heath's book is 
 an abbreviation of Crowe and Cavalcaselle. Mr. Phillips' 
 is an admirable piece of criticism written in a charming 
 style. Mr. Ricketts' book is also highly critical, with 
 process illustrations of substantially all the master's works. 
 Dr. Gronau's is a happy combination of biographical detail 
 with much sound criticism. 
 
 The great work on Rubens is that of M. de Rooses, who 
 has given a long life to the exclusive study of the master. 
 His immense book, however, is rather for the specialist. 
 For the general reader that of M. Michel, also in two folio 
 volumes, but only about half as long, is much better, telling 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 the master's story in most readable form with admirable 
 judgments upon his pictures. Where his opinions differ 
 from those of M. de Rooses they generally seem to be the 
 sounder. There are also short biographies by Knackfuss, 
 Kett, Dillon, Calvert, Hope Rea and Stevenson, of which 
 the last three appear to be the best. 
 
 , Of Velasquez we have in Carl Justi's great book an ex- 
 haustive presentation. The less extended, but still full, 
 work by Sefior Beruete is also admirable. The shorter 
 lives by Armstrong, Calvert and Stevenson are most excel- 
 lent ; and that by Edwin Stowe is quite readable. 
 
 Of Rembrandt there is only one exhaustive biography in 
 English, that of M. Michel ; but that is equally admirable in 
 style and in substance, and satisfies every requirement of 
 the ordinary reader. There are shorter lives by Knackfuss, 
 MoUett, Bell and Breal, of which the last two seem to be 
 preferable. 
 
 The Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt has issued at a very mod- 
 erate cost volumes each of which contains process repro- 
 ductions of all the works of one of the masters. The titles 
 of the pictures are given in English. 
 
 Books dealing with the general subject of painting and 
 throwing light on the works of the painters treated here are 
 of course too numerous to mention. There are also vari- 
 ous biographies that are too antiquated to be of practical 
 value, and perhaps some very late ones that the author has 
 not read. 
 
 The space allotted does not permit a reference to all the 
 pictures of the masters treated. A mere catalogue of their 
 works would make a book almost as large as this. The 
 author can refer only to such of them as seem best to illus- 
 trate the development of the artists' genius, preferring those 
 that are in public galleries accessible to all. Each reader 
 will be disappointed that some favorite of his been passed 
 over in silence; but this is inevitable. 
 
 G. B. R. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 LEONARDO DA VINCI tag. 
 
 I Childhood and Youth 3 
 
 II At the CotTRT OF II Moro 22 
 
 III Later Days 40 
 
 RAPHAEL 
 
 I Umbkia and Florence 64 
 
 II Roman Days 90 
 
 TITIAN 
 
 I Early Years 127 
 
 ll The Painter of Princes 142 
 
 III A Marvellous Old Age 169 
 
 RUBENS 
 
 I Early Days 183 
 
 II In Southern Lands 190 
 
 III Return to Antwerp and FIrst Marriage .... 204 
 
 IV Wandering Years 233 
 
 V Second Marriage and Later Days 239 
 
 VELASQUEZ 
 
 I The Realist 254 
 
 II The Decorator . . 275 
 
 III The Impressionist 288 
 
 REMBRANDT 
 
 I Early Years 305 
 
 II Golden Days 316 
 
 III Deepening Shadows -335 
 
 INDEX 359 
 
PORTRAITS 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci Frontispiece 
 
 Raphael ^4 
 
 Titian ^^7 
 
 Rubens ^^3 
 
 Velasquez ^S4 
 
 Rembrandt 305 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 
 
 1452-1519 
 
 I 
 CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 
 
 The greatest mind ever devoted to art, probably the 
 greatest ever devoted to science, was Leonardo da Vinci, 
 the natural son of a Florentine notary. 
 
 The village of Vinci, from which his family derived its 
 name, is perched upon a hill-top not fai^ from Empoli, 
 some twenty miles west of Florence. To the south is the 
 narrow but fertile valley of the Arno, to the north a wilder- 
 ness of broken hills which lead the eye from summit to sum- 
 mit until they merge into the majestic mass of Monte Al- 
 bano. The region is too poor for the cultivation of grain, 
 and the hardy peasants get their meager subsistence from 
 the vine and the olive, which cling to the hill-sides wherever 
 they can find a footing. It is a hard life that they lead, 
 saving by means of terraces what little soil nature has be- 
 stowed upon them, and slowly enriching it from father to 
 son. But if their life is hard, it is extremely healthy, and 
 the inhabitants of the region are a wholesome, honest and 
 rugged people. 
 
 Their dwellings of stone and stucco, colored in agreeable 
 tones of pink and yellow, are not unpleasing to the eye; 
 but within they are bare and cheerless to the last degree. 
 The furniture is plain and scanty, limited to the merest 
 necessaries of existence, the beds hard, the seats uncomfort- 
 able, the walls naked ; and cold as are the winters of Tus- 
 
 3 
 
4 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 cany, no provision is made for heating save a brazier where 
 smolder a few pieces of charcoal to thaw the hands when 
 too stiff to work. 
 
 Things change little in the Tuscan mountains ; and it is 
 probable that there has been no visible alteration in the as- 
 pect of Vinci since Leonardo's birth ; and that if his spirit 
 could revisit the glimpses of the moon he would not realize 
 the lapse of time, and would wonder why his old acquaint- 
 ances were no longer to be found in their accustomed haunts. 
 Only the costume of the peasants has lost its picturesque- 
 ness, while the grim old fortress that lowers above the 
 town, no longer filled with a garrison of mercenaries in 
 the service of the Republic, is slowly falling to decay. In 
 all likelihood the house in which Leonardo was born is still 
 standing, but we know not where it is ; not even whether it 
 was in the narrow, crooked and ill-kept streets of the town, 
 clinging like a wasp-nest to the top of the hill, or in one of 
 the adjacent olive orchards or vineyards. 
 
 Leonardo's grandfather, Ser Antonio, was also a notary ; 
 " Ser " being the title bestowed on gentlemen of the legal 
 profession. In Florence, as in other Latin countries, the 
 position of notary was not the insignificant one that it is in 
 English-speaking lands. It was analogous to that of an 
 English solicitor. The notaries not only attested deeds, 
 wills and important commercial transactions ; they prepared 
 the instruments themselves; and as there were no registry 
 offices in those days, title papers of all kinds were left with 
 the notary of the family. The position was therefore one 
 of importance and permanent in its character. The notary 
 was apt to be the friend and adviser of his clients, and 
 the office most frequently descended from father to son. 
 Thus, of the five ancestors of Leonardo that are known to 
 us, four were notaries. 
 
 The family probably had its origin at Vinci. At any 
 rate, in the town or its environs, Ser Antonio had a house. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 5 
 
 where he spent a portion of the year. Most probably, like 
 the majority of his countrymen, he removed thither in the 
 autumn to superintend the gathering of the grapes and 
 olives, the making of the wine and oil. It must have been 
 an unpretentious establishment, for he had no servants save 
 a single maid of all work. What lands were appurtenant 
 to the dwelling we do not know. Like most Tuscan land, 
 it was no doubt cultivated on shares, so that the farmers 
 were not reckoned as servants. We have no reason to 
 suppose that the dwelling differed from the bare, cheerless 
 homes that we find at Vinci to-day. 
 
 Hither, in the year 145 1, came Ser Piero da Vinci, An- 
 tonio's son, then a youth of twenty-four,- most likely for 
 the vintage, and here he met a peasant girl of whom we 
 know nothing save that her name was Catarina. We know 
 not whether she was fair to look upon or of unusual intelli-4 
 gence. We only know that she found favor in Piero's eyes, 
 and that the next year she bore him a son who was destined 
 to be one of the world's wonders. 
 
 The connection was not of long. duration, for in the year 
 of Leonardo's birth, Piero wedded Albiera di Giovanna 
 Amadori, and not long afterwards Catarina married a peas- 
 ant who rejoiced in the name of Accartabrigha di Piero del 
 Vaccha. Probably the worthy peasant objected to bringing 
 up the son of another man. At any rate, Catarina turned 
 the young Leonardo over to his father, who carried him to 
 Florence. If the boy was of the age of discretion we know 
 that he wept to leave his mother and the bright Tuscan 
 hills, to be immured within the gloomy walls of the medieval 
 city. 
 
 At this time Ser Antonio dwelt in a house on the Piazza 
 San Firenze, close by the Palazzo Vecchio, where now stands 
 the noble Palazzo Gondi. He lived after the patriarchal 
 Italian fashion. He was an old man of seventy-nine at the 
 time of Leonardo's birth. With him were his wife of fifty- 
 
6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 eight, and his two sons, Piero and Francesco. The old 
 people seemed to have welcomed the little waif, as 4id also 
 the bride of Piero. She was childless, and it was natural 
 that she should have loved the boy, who was beautiful as an 
 angel, wonderfully intelligent, and of so sweet a disposition. 
 that he won every heart. 
 
 All authorities are agreed as to the marvelous beauty of 
 Leonardo. Nature showered upon him every gift. Of a 
 little more than the average height, he was perfectly formed 
 and graceful in every movement. His face was faultless 
 in its contour, and the golden locks that hung luxuriously 
 about his shoulders made him look like Phoebus Apollo.* 
 Of a sweet and loving temper, he was kind and generous to 
 all he met, and long before societies for the prevention of 
 cruelty to animals were dreamed of, Ihe loved everything 
 that had life.l It is not surprising that this wonderful love- 
 child was welcome in the home of his grandparents. Of 
 how his childhood days were spent we know nothing. He 
 has left behind him some five thousand pages of closely 
 written manuscript ; but scarcely does he refer to his family 
 or to himself. There is this curious note, however: " The^ 
 first remembrance of my childhood is that as I lay in my 
 cradle a kite came flying to me, and opened my mouth with 
 his tail, wherewith he smote me many times on the lips " ; 
 doubtless one of those early dreams which are so vivid that 
 in after years we can scarcely distinguish them from reality. 
 
 Nothing in heredity can account for Leonardo's greatness. 
 A more prosaic pursuit than that of a notary cannot be 
 imagined — a life passed among dry parchments, preparing 
 with dogged patience the tedious legal documents of the 
 time, written slowly and painfully upon costly sheepskin 
 with a quill pen. Such a pursuit was calculated to dry up 
 every poetic instinct of the heart; and we have no reason 
 to believe that any of Leonardo's ancestors was above his 
 business. As for Catarina, she was no doubt an ordinary 
 
LEONARDO, DA VINCI 7 
 
 peasant girl ; and her willingness to part with her wonder- 
 ful child, out of whose life she seems then to have passed 
 until the hour of her death, does not indicate much sensi- 
 bility. One of Leonardo's nephews was a respectable sculp- 
 tor; but otherwise the family was unknown to fame, and 
 while it still survives, it has sunk into the peasant class. 
 Leonardo was like some splendid comet which comes un- 
 heralded from the depths of space, only to be swallowed up 
 again in its limitless abysm. Yet perhaps a notarial origin 
 is not so unfavorable to genius as it would seem ; for Masac- 
 cio, who rescued art from formalism, and breathed into it 
 the breath of life, and Brunelleschi, who reared the miracu- 
 lous dome of Santa Maria del Fiore, and designed the stern 
 majesty of the Pitti Palace, were both the sons of notaries. 
 
 At what age Leonardo turned his attention to art we do not 
 know. Artists are born with the prehensile eye and the 
 cunning hand ; and doubtless in earliest boyhood his talents 
 were apparent. Vasari says that when Leonardo was a 
 child his father took some of his drawings to his friend 
 Andrea del Verrocchio, and asked him whether the boy had 
 an aptitude for art ; and that Andrea, perceiving the merits 
 of the sketches, accepted him as a pupil. This was prob- 
 ably when he was not less than ten years of age, and not 
 more than fifteen. At that time the custom was for the 
 master to take the pupil as an apprentice for from two to 
 six years, during which period he lived in the master's house, 
 usually paying for his board and instruction. At the end 
 of his apprenticeship, if his work was acceptable, the master 
 commonly retained him as an assistant, paying him modest 
 wages until he established an independent position. 
 
 It is likely, however, that Leonardo remained at home, 
 only spending his days in the studio of Verrocchio. An 
 only child of such surpassing beauty and such sweetness of 
 temper, it is not probable that the family would have let him 
 take up his abode beneath another roof in the same city. 
 
8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 So far as the records show, he continued to live with his 
 father until he was twenty-three. 
 
 Verrocchio's position as an artist is one of the problems 
 of contemporary criticism. In the old days he was es- 
 teemed a worthy master, who did much good work, and who 
 assisted in the production of one of art's great achievements, 
 the equestrian statue of CoUeone in Venice. Of late, how- 
 ever, certain critics, by assigning to him a great number of 
 works which he perhaps never saw, have raised him to a 
 place amongst the foremost artists of all time. Those who 
 are curious to study this view of his position had best turn 
 to the excellent volume upon his life recently published by 
 Miss Cruttwell. 
 
 However that may be, at the time when Leonardo entered 
 his studio, Verrocchio was as yet a man of modest accom- 
 plishment. Like so many Florentine masters, he had started 
 in life as a goldsmith, and he had only recently opened a 
 studio as a painter and sculptor. There must have been 
 something striking in his personality, for he seems to have 
 been recognized as a man of mark from the first, and his 
 studio was full of pupils. Perugino is said to have been 
 with him about the time when Leonardo was admitted ; but 
 if so, the master's training hiad no visible influence on the 
 disciple's style. Lorenzo di Credi became a pupil while 
 Leonardo was with Verrocchio, and remained with the mas- 
 ter until Verrocchio's death in 1488. The gracious Fiorenzo 
 di Lorenzo was also probably a fellow-worker with Leo- 
 nardo in Verrocchio's shop. 
 
 One of the strangest phenomena in the 1/istory of art is 
 the versatility of the men of Florence."-- Giotto was the 
 father of painting, and he was also the architect of the most 
 beautiful tower ever reared by the hand of man, that Cam- 
 panile which would be a worthy ornament to the streets of 
 Heaven; and he was one of the best sculptors of the 
 time. His example was followed by most of his successors, 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 9 
 
 who usually practised all the arts of design ; and the school 
 culminated in Michelangelo, whose Moses, whose David 
 and whose Tombs of the Medici are the mightiest of modern 
 statues, whose Creation of Man is, after Leonardo's Last 
 \ Supper, the most majestic of pictures, and whose dome of 
 St. Peter's is the greatest triumph of modern architecture. 
 But this fusion of the arts was not without its disad- 
 vantages. Painting lost the suavity of Umbria, the splendor 
 of Venice, and became somewhat hard, with over-accented 
 outlines, while sculpture was apt to soften into pictures in 
 stone or metal, like Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise. Verroc- 
 chio was one of these universal masters, though his genius 
 and his training as a goldsmith led him rather to sculpture 
 than to painting. 
 
 Of Leonardo's life with Verrocchio we know nothing. It 
 must have been satisfactory, however ; for when, at the age 
 of twenty, Leonardo was in 1472 admitted to the guild of 
 painters, he still remained with his master, and probably 
 did not leave him until the demands of patrons compelled 
 him to set up for himself. Vasari says that he painted one 
 \of the angels in the picture of the Baptism of Christ that 
 ', Verrocchio made for San Salvi, and which is now in the 
 Academy at Florence; and that when Verrocchio saw how 
 far his pupil's work surpassed his own, he renounced the 
 brush forever, devoting himself thenceforth to sculpture. 
 The last part of the story is apparently untrue, and the 
 members of the Verrocchio cult indignantly deny it all. 
 Still, it seems to me that the angel in question comes from 
 a hand more skilful and a mind more exquisite than do the 
 Christ and the St. John; and like the majority of those 
 who examine it, I see in this angel and in other parts of the 
 picture the cunning hand of Leonardo. It seems incred- 
 ible that the man who painted the hard face of the Baptist 
 could have painted this lovely angel. 
 
 It is probable that his master learned far more froin 
 
10 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Leonardo than he taught. Admitting that Verrocchio 
 created all the masterpieces which his partisans now at- 
 tribute to his brush and chisel, they were all produced after 
 his association with his wonderful pupil. We know that 
 Leonardo was one of the most powerful and original of 
 men. If the works that are now given to Verrocchio are 
 indeed his, most of them are strangely like those of the 
 greater master ; and as Verrocchio was only seventeen years 
 older than Leonardo, he was not too old to learn. He 
 taught Leonardo how to mix paint and to apply it in the 
 good, honest Florentine fashion, and he showed him how to 
 hew marble and to cast bronze ; but there were many things 
 of which he had never dreamed that were revealed to his 
 pupil's piercing vision. We know from Leonardo's " Treat- 
 ise on Painting " that his constant advice was to go straight 
 to nature as the supreme master, avoiding the mannerism 
 that follows the imitation of another's work. 
 
 Unlike other artists, Leonardo seems to have had no 
 period of immaturity when he was groping after methods 
 of self-expression. Everything that we have from his brush 
 or pencil seems the work of a finished master. Brilliant as 
 was Raphael, he has left behind him much that bespeaks 
 youth and inexperience ; and all other artists tell something 
 of the same tale. But as Minerva sprang fully armed from 
 the head of Jove, so Leonardo seems to have mastered all 
 the difficulties of his craft without an effort. I do not mean 
 that his style did not change ; that he did not grow in free- 
 dom and powerf'but unless the small Annunciation of the 
 Louvre is his, there is nothing from his hand that speaks of 
 a youth groping his way. ' His earlier efforts are not equal 
 to those of his prime, but they are not immature. 
 
 However valuable the teaching of Verrocchio may have 
 been, it was but an element in the varied instruction that 
 came from breathing the air of Florence at that happy time. 
 When Leonardo came to live there, Cosmo de' Medici, Pater 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI ii 
 
 Patriae, was at the height of his power, ruling in serene 
 wisdom, surrounded by such a galaxy of artists, scholars 
 and poets as thp world has rarely seen. That movement, 
 so justly called^ the Renaissance, the New Birth, was in its 
 full swing. The glories of Greek art and literature had 
 been revealed to men. Minds were in a fever of excitement, 
 bubbling over with enthusiasm for the new learning; and 
 yet, while they emulated one another in extolling the great- 
 ness of Grecian art, they retained that firm grasp of the 
 reality about them that preserved them from slavish imita- 
 tion of the masterpieces of the past. Donatello did not die 
 until Leonardo was fourteen, and his powerful realism 
 saved the art of his countrymen from turning to ancient 
 models. Fra Angelico died when Leonardo was three years 
 of age, but the walls of San Marco were glowing with his 
 rainbow hues. ( Fra Filippo Lippi was in his prime, now 
 running away with a nun, now covering the walls of Flor- 
 ence with pictures whose charm is perennial, and which are 
 yet faithful transcripts of the life about him. Botticelli, the 
 master of the graceful line, the exquisite genius whose re- 
 fined medieval soul sought so earnestly and so ineffectually 
 to grasp the spirit of Greek culture, the only contemporary 
 artist whom Leonardo mentions in the " Treatise on Paint- 
 ing," calling him affectionately " il nostro Botticelli," was 
 five years Leonardo's senior, and must have been a delightful 
 and inspiring companion. Benozzo Gozzoli, with his ro- 
 mantic and fanciful scenes, was at his best. Luca and An- 
 drea della Robbia were at the height of their powers, and 
 from their busy work-shop there poured forth those mar- 
 velous terra cottas that have been the joy of all succeeding 
 ages. Ghirlandajo was three years Leonardo's senior, and 
 his strong, sincere, efficient talent was making itself felt. 
 The exquisite decorative sculptors, Mino da Fiesole, Cosimo 
 Rosselli and Desiderio da Settignano were filling the 
 churches of Florence with their lovely shrines and tombs. 
 
12 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Ghiberti's gates of Paradise were still new. The brothers 
 San Gallo were in the full course of their career as archi- 
 tects. The PoUajuoli were making their hard but powerful 
 studies in anatomy. Perugino spent much of his time in 
 Florence, revealing all the gentle sweetness, the serene piety 
 and the entrancing landscapes of Umbria, so spacious and 
 so full of the peace that passeth understanding. 
 
 Many another artist worthy of note was there, forming 
 such an artistic atmosphere as the world had never seen 
 since the sun of Pericles set in the gloom of the Spartan 
 war. But the greatest inspiration of all came from the 
 young Lorenzo, three years the senior of Leonardo, the 
 leader in all courtly pageants, the friend and companion of 
 scholars, poets and artists, who was already displaying those 
 rare qualities that were to earn for him his title of " the 
 Magnificent." 
 
 Life in those Renaissance days was not only intense, but 
 individual to an almost unexampled degree. The fetters of 
 custom and observance, which had bound men so tightly 
 during the Middle Ages, were cast aside, and they reveled 
 in a freedom that was almost without control. Instead of 
 conforming to a uniform standard, each man sought to de- 
 velop his own faculties along his own lines, to be most com- 
 pletely himself. The result was that the scene was crowded 
 with interesting and original personalities. 
 
 The life of the art students of Florence was turbulent and 
 ungoverned, full of practical jokes and gay festivals, not un- 
 like the life of the Latin Quarter to-day. The young men 
 did an immense amount of hard work; but they found re- 
 laxation in revels that were not always seemly. The fact 
 that the young Leonardo was arraigned, along with two 
 companions, for an infamous crime, proves, though they 
 were honorably acquitted, that his way of living was not 
 above suspicion. But despite an occasional aberration, he 
 must have applied himself to his work with a truly Hercu- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 13 
 
 lean energy, else he could never have mastered the various 
 arts, crafts and sciences of which he speaks in the remarka- 
 ble letter to Lodovico il Moro that will be referred to in 
 its proper place. 
 
 And so he passed his young days in the happiest of sur- 
 roundings, in the conditions most favorable for the develop- 
 ment of his genius. His stepmother died, and in 1465 his 
 father married Francesca di Ser Giuliano Lanfredini. She, 
 too, proved childless ; and so the home still remained a pleas- 
 ant one for the beautiful youth, who must have , won the 
 heart of its new mistress. But she, too, passed away, and 
 Ser Piero chose for a third companion Margherita di Fran- 
 cesco di Jacopo di Guglielmo. She promptly presented him 
 a son, and then the heart of the stepmother turned against 
 Leonardo. She could not bear that this glorious bird of 
 Paradise should overshadow her barn-yard fowl, and she 
 made the home so unhappy that Leonardo was compelled to 
 leave it forever. She bore five children to the worthy no- 
 tary, and a fourth wife bore him six more. These women 
 may have had the power to alienate, at least in some meas- 
 ure, the affections of Ser Piero from the wonderful child 
 of his love; for though he lived long and accumulated a 
 large estate, we hear of no further relations with Leonardo 
 save one kindly letter, and on his death he seems to have 
 made no provision for his first-born. 
 
 Thus, at the age of twenty-three or -four, Leonardo found 
 himself alone in the world, forgotten by his mother in her 
 humble peasant's cottage, turned out of doors by the smug 
 notary at the bidding of a jealous stepmother. 
 
 He was already a finished artist. The landscape drawing 
 of the Uffizi dated 1473 is masterly, and is probably the 
 first pure landscape — the first landscape without figures — 
 made in modern times. And if Vasari's story of the Medusa 
 is true, he must, before he left his father's roof, have at- 
 tained great technical mastery. It is as follows : 
 
14 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 " It is related that Ser Piero da Vinci, being at hitf country 
 house, was there visited by one of the peasants on his estate, 
 who, having cut down a fig-tree on his farm, had made a 
 shield from part of it with his own hands, and then brought 
 it to Ser Piero, begging that he would be pleased to cause the 
 same to be painted for him in Florence. This the latter very 
 willingly promised to do, the countryman having great skill 
 in taking birds and in fishing, and being often very serviceable 
 to Ser Piero in such matters. Having taken the shield with 
 him to Florence therefore, without saying anything to Leonardo 
 as to whom it was for, he desired the latter to paint something 
 upon it. Accordingly, he one day took it in hand, but finding 
 it crooked, coarse and badly made, he straightened it at the 
 fire, and giving it to a turner, it was brought back to him 
 smooth and delicately rounded, instead of the rude and shape- 
 less form in which he had received it. He then covered it 
 with gypsum, and having prepared it to his liking, he began 
 to consider what he could paint upon it that might best and 
 most effectually terrify whomsoever might approach it, proi- 
 ducing the same effect with that formerly attributed to the 
 head of Medusa. For this purpose, therefore, Leonardo car- 
 ried to one of his rooms, into which no one but himself ever 
 entered, a number of lizards, hedgehogs, newts, serpents, 
 dragon-flies, locusts, bats, glow-worms, and every other sort 
 of strange animal of similar kind on which he could lay his 
 hands; from this assemblage, variously adapted and joined 
 together, he formed a hideous and appalling monster, breath- 
 ing poison and flames, and surrounded by an atmosphere of 
 fire; this he caused to issue from a dark and rifted rock, with 
 poison reeking from the cavernous throat, flames darting from 
 the eyes, and vapors rising from the nostrils in such sort that 
 the result was indeed a most fearful anc^ monstrous creature; 
 at this he labored until the odors arismg from all those dead 
 animals filled the room with a mortal fetor, to which the zeal 
 of Leonardo and the love which he bore to art rendered him 
 insensible or indifferent. When his work, which neither the 
 countryman nor Ser Piero any longer inquired for, was com- 
 pleted, Leonardo went to his father and told him that he might 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 15 
 
 send for the shield at his earliest convenience, since so far as 
 he was concerned, the work was finished; Ser Piero went 
 accordingly one morning to the room for the shield, and having 
 knocked at the door, Leonardo opened it to him, telling him 
 nevertheless to wait a little without, and having returned into 
 the room he placed the shield on the easel, and shading the 
 window so that the light falling on the painting was some- 
 what dimmed, he made Ser Piero step within to look at it. 
 But the latter, not expecting any such thing, drew back, 
 startled at the first glance, not supposing that to be the shield, 
 or believing the monster he beheld to be a painting, he there- 
 fore turned to rush out, but Leonardo withheld him, saying: — 
 The shield will serve the purpose for which it has been exe- 
 cuted, take it therefore and carry it away, for this is the effect 
 it was designed to produce. The work seemed something more 
 than wonderful to Ser Piero, and he highly commended the 
 fanciful idea of Leonardo, but he afterwards silently bought 
 from a merchant another shield, whereon there was painted 
 a heart transfixed with an arrow, and this he gave to the 
 countryman, who considered himself obliged to him for it to 
 the end of his life. Some time after Ser Piero secretly sold 
 the shield painted by Leonardo to certain merchants for one 
 hundred ducats, and it subsequently fell into the hands of the 
 Duke of Milan, sold to him by the same^ merchants for three 
 hundred ducats." 
 
 It was probably in these younger days, too, that Leonardo 
 painted that other version of the Medusa of which Vasari 
 speaks, and which was like the picture that now hangs in 
 the Uffizi. Practically all connoisseurs are now agreed that 
 this is only a copy, or, more likely, a picture painted from 
 Vasari's description. But no two of theHl" can agree as to 
 when or by whom it was painted. Some say that it was in 
 the sixteenth century, some that it was in the seventeenth. 
 Others even affirm that it is the work of a Fleming. Yet 
 it is hard to escape its history. Such a picture by Leonardo 
 was certainly in the possession of Cosimo I. This is proved 
 
1 6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 not merely by a contemporary witness, but by the oflficial 
 catalogue. Why should the art-loving Grand Dukes of 
 Tuscany have sent away one of the most precious gems of 
 their collection and replaced it by a copy? I confess that 
 the picture looks to me of later date ; but few things were 
 impossible to Leonardo, and I yet hope to see this strange 
 and fascinating work restored to him. 
 y^The inscription upon the landscape drawing of which we 
 have spoken proves that Leonardo had already in his youth 
 adopted that singular way of writing from right to left 
 which has been one of the world's great misfortunes. Had 
 he written in the normal manner, the progress of science 
 would have been advanced at least a himdred years; for a 
 thousand secrets which men have since wrested from na- 
 ture with infinite toil lie hidden in those wonderful manu- 
 scripts, many of which still remain undeciphered, though 
 learned men have struggled long to find their meaning. 
 Leonardo made more discoveries in science than any man 
 that ever lived; but he published not one line, and it is 
 doubtful whether he ever mentioned many of the most im- 
 portant of them to a single individual, content to write them 
 down in these strange volumes; where they were more se- 
 curely hidden than when in Nature's breast. It has been 
 suggested that Leonardo learned this way of writing during 
 a lengthy journey that he is supposed to have taken through 
 the East; but this landscape shows that he had devised it 
 in his youth. That he was left-handed may have been the 
 cause, though the world is full of left-handed people who 
 write in the normal manner. 
 
 At the time when Leonardo quitted the paternal hoftie he 
 was perhaps Nature's masterpiece in the making of a man. 
 He was so strong that he could twist a horse-shoe with his 
 nak^ed hands ; so active that standing with his feet together 
 he could leap upon a horse ; so beautiful that every eye fol- 
 lowed him as he passed along ; and he was possessed of such 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 17 
 
 rare powers of persuasion that, as Vasari says, everyone 
 answered " Yes " or " No " as he desired. He must have 
 been a sore trial to the ladies of Florence. A being so su- 
 premely gifted must have awakened the tender passion in 
 many breasts ; but he seems to have been completely insensi- 
 ble to woman's blandishments. Even the gossip-loving 
 Vasari can find no story to tell of his love for woman. 
 Michelangelo was equally insensible ; but his homely person 
 and morose manner naturally repelled the sex, while his art 
 is essentially masculine. Leonardo, on the other hand, was 
 beautiful in person and gracious in manner, and he' loved 
 to depict the charms of woman; perhaps no one has 
 ever seen so deeply into the female heart, presenting, his 
 women with such subtle skill that we linger before the pic- 
 tures, studying the secret of their personality as if they 
 were alive. 
 
 Not only was he a master of painting and sculpture ; not 
 only did he have a comprehension of nature without 
 parallel, understanding without an effort her profoundest 
 mysteries which men have since re-discovered bit by bit with 
 infinite labor ; he was also a great musician and an inspired 
 improviser, playing upon the lute with exquisite skill and 
 singing with a delightful voice songs that he himself com- 
 posed. 
 
 "^His writings are the most impersonal that the world has 
 ever seen. No trace of emotion is ever to be discovered 
 upon their pages. Even the death of his father is noted 
 without a word of comment. But his heart was as tender as 
 a woman's, infinitely patient with the faults of others. He 
 was so indulgent to his servants that they abused his kind- 
 ness, and his love for animals amounted to a passion. In 
 the market-place he would buy the poor winged songsters, 
 and opening their cages, would rejoice to see them fly away. 
 Andrea Corsali, writing from India to the younger Giuliano 
 de' Medici, tells him that the people of that country allowed 
 
1 8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 no injury to be done to any living creature, " like our ow 
 Leonardo da Vinci ; " he also says that they, too, lil 
 Leonardo, ate not the meat of slaughtered animals; thi 
 revealing to us that Leonardo was a vegetarian, perhaps tl 
 first of European blood who ever refrained from eating fles 
 because he loved the dumb brute and objected to its sacrifio 
 He was a passionate lover of horses, breeding and trainin 
 them with great skill. It is said that the wildest hon 
 would submit to his gaze, would cease its plunging, and stan 
 before him trembling. Always improvident and over-genei 
 ous, he was often in straits for money ; but however poo 
 he might be, he kept his horses. From them he made ir 
 numerable drawings, showing them in motion and at res 
 and experts declare that these drawings reveal a master 
 of equine anatomy unexampled in the history of art. 
 
 Had Leonardo's talents been distributed among a doze: 
 men, we should have had a dozen masters of great achieve 
 ment. But they were too many for one man. Human lif 
 is limited, and the hours of the day are few^ No matte 
 what Leonardo was doing, he thought of a thousand othe 
 things that he wanted to do ; and so he was dragged f ror 
 one thing to another by the restless force of his mind, lea\ 
 ing nothing complete. He was one of the supreme master 
 of art. Everything that he touched bears the mark o 
 genius; but scarcely anything was finished. 
 
 This instability of purpose revealed itself from the begin 
 ning. On January lo, 1478, the govertmient let to Leonard 
 the contract for the painting of the altarpiece in the chape 
 of St. Bernard in the Palazzo Vecchio, at the same tim 
 canceling its engagement with Pietro PoUaiuolo. This wa 
 one of the most important commissions that could have bee: 
 assigned to a painter, and one would suppose that a youn 
 artist of twenty-six would have thrown himself into th 
 work with enthusiasm, and have finished it once. In poit 
 of fact, Leonardo seems never to have got beyond the pre 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 19 
 
 liminary studies, and finally, after years of waiting, the 
 work was taken from him and given to Ghirlandajo. 
 
 Again, in July, 1481, he undertook an altarpiece for the 
 monks of San Donato a Scopeto, and received considerable 
 payments in advance. He made a beginning, which is gen- 
 erally conceded to be the Adoration of the Kings in the 
 Uffizi, a masterly work in monochrome tempera upon a 
 chalk ground, characterized by wonderful variety and vital- 
 ity in the heads and forms ; but neither by scolding nor sup- 
 plication could the worthy monks induce him to complete the 
 , picture, and finally, after fifteen years of waiting, they had 
 to turn the commission over to Filippino Lippi. Yet Leo- 
 nardo did an immense amount of labor in preparation. We 
 still have a great number of his marvelous studies, and many 
 no doubt have been lost. 
 
 The very recent researches of M. Salomon Reinach have 
 iJroved that the Madonna of the Rocks in the Louvre was 
 painted before Leonardo left Florence, and that the still 
 more beautiful replica in the National Gallery was ordered 
 by the Milanese monks while he was still in that city, 
 though it was not delivered until 1492. They ordered a 
 Madonna with two prophets ; but were no doubt glad to get 
 the glorious work that is the pride of the great English Col- 
 lection. Already in the Louvre picture Leonardo proves 
 [himself the marvelous master of light and shade and of 
 (delicate human expression that we know, though there is 
 in the work a certain hardness of drawing that disappears 
 \itterly in the later replica. We owe a debt of gratitude to 
 M. Reinach not only for establishing irrefutably the gen- 
 uineness of the great London picture which it has seemed 
 to many of us a profanation to question, but for settling a 
 controversy that has raged for years with most unnecessary 
 acrimony. 
 
 In painting these pictures Leonardo proceeded in his usual 
 way, making for them innumerable drawings, which still 
 
20 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 survive to tell how conscientiously he sought perfection, ho\ 
 earnestly he strove for the most appropriate presentatioi 
 of his subject. He was the greatest of draughtsmen. Hi 
 drawings have not the fierce directness of Michelangelo's 
 but they have a purity of line, a suppleness, a delightfu 
 softness and charm that are unequaled in the realm o 
 art. Some of them are the ordinary short-hand notes o 
 a painter ; but great numbers of them are finished picture 
 of ravishing beauty and of a subtle fascination that is with 
 out example. 
 
 In the Madonna of the Rocks the mighty revolution tha 
 Leonardo wrought in the painter's art first becomes full; 
 apparent — a revolution so great that it has converted al 
 his predecessors into primitives. He is not only modern 
 but he is a master unexcelled in all the ages. Beneath hi 
 magic brush the old crude colors, the old hard lines, vanish 
 and are replaced by an infinite softness and truth to nature 
 The features are rounded as in life ; they are bathed in at 
 mosphere ; all the resources of light and shade are expendo 
 upon them. Leonardo was not the inventer of chiaroscuro 
 but he was the first to handle it as a master. None ha 
 surpassed him in its use. Correggio and Rembrandt an 
 more striking, but not more true. ' With the painting of thi 
 Madonna of the Rocks modern art began. 
 
 In this picture Leonardo first exhibited in full measun 
 that love for fantastic rocks piled in incredible shapes tha 
 form the background of most of his pictures. They canno 
 be called an entire success. Certainly they do not compari 
 in loveliness with the smiling landscapes of Perugino o 
 Raphael. They are curious rather than beautiful. But ii 
 the charm, the grace, the sweet humanity of the figures, ii 
 the masterly handling of the paint, he far surpasses all wh 
 preceded him; nor has he been since outdone. 
 
 If Dr. Bode and other competent critics are correct, and i 
 the bvely Annunciation of the Uffizi is rightly attribute 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI ai 
 
 to Leonardo, as seems true to me, then there was another 
 picture which about this time he finished to an ultimate per- 
 fection. Certainly it appears more reasonable to give this 
 exquisite masterpiece to Leonardo, who created many other 
 things of equal beauty, than to suppose that Verroc- 
 chio, Lorenzo di Credi or Ridolfo Ghirlandajo had one such 
 inspiration. 
 
 Even if we add the small Annunciation of the Louvre, 
 which Morelli and other distinguished authorities give to 
 Leonardo as a work of bis early youth, the output is 
 strangely small for the twelve years of his artistic endeavor 
 before quitting Florence. Several bas-reliefs have been 
 identified by various experts as Leonardo's, and if so, they 
 probably date from this period ; but they have not yet been 
 generally accepted. 
 
 It is hard to understand Leonardo's persistent inactivity 
 at this time. In 1479 ^^ 'was employed by the government to 
 paint upon the walls of the Palazzo Vecchio the hanging of 
 Bernardo Bandini, one of the murderers of Giuliano de' 
 Medici ; but he advanced no farther than a summary sketch. 
 This was a work whose prompt and vigorous execution 
 would have secured the favor of Lorenzo the Magnificent 
 and of all the Medici faction, while its neglect must have 
 given great offense. It is therefore strange that the ambi- 
 tious young man should again have failed to carry out his 
 commission. It was not from repugnance to the subject; 
 for, profound psychologist as he was, it was his custom to 
 witness executions, with a view of noting the expressions 
 of men standing face to face with the supreme mystery. 
 
 It was probably at this time, too, that he began the St. 
 Jerome of the Vatican, advancing no further than the mono- 
 chrome underpainting. His abandonment of this was no 
 great misfortune, for it is perhaps the least pleasing of his 
 compositions, and his talents were better employed else- 
 where. It shows that even in youth Leonardo possessed 
 
22 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 / 
 that rare skill in depicting the ravages of age that is appar- 
 ent in so many of his drawings. Life in its decay always 
 seems to have attracted him as much as in its full-tide splen- 
 dor; and he studied as no one else has ever done the ruin 
 that time wreaks upon the human lineaments. 
 
 II 
 
 AT THE COURT OF IL MORO 
 
 It is not surprising that Leonardo quitted Florence. His 
 failure to execute the important commissions with which 
 he had been entrusted must have cast discredit upon his 
 abilities as an artist. The Florentine school of painting, 
 ('with its hard outlines and crude colors, did not satisfy him;l 
 but it was so firmly established and was practised by such 
 able masters that the task of overthrowing it was too great. 
 In that revival of classic learning which was the supreme 
 glory of Florence in his day, Leonardo took no interest. 
 Greek he never knew, and he learned Latin only in middle 
 life. Even the antique sculptures that were being so en- 
 thusiastically unearthed scarcely interested him at all. ,Na- 
 ture__was the onljMteacher whoni he acknowledged. The 
 democratic^spirit of Florence, with its bourgeois conven- 
 tions, was hateful to one who accepted no guide save truth, 
 and who subjected all received opinions to a remorseless 
 scrutiny. His illegitimate birth and his exclusion from his 
 father's home in a land where it is the custom for all the 
 generations of a family to live in patriarchal fashion under 
 the same roof were also causes of embarrassment. 
 
 Other reasons perhaps there were; and when he was 
 about thirty years of age Leonardo determined to quit his 
 native city. 
 
 Amongst his voluminous writings are various reports 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 23 
 
 made by an engineer in the employ of the Sultan of Cairo, 
 written from Armenia and the frontier fortresses in Asia. 
 From these Dr. Richter and others have concluded that 
 Leonardo, went to the Orient and served the Egyptian Sul- 
 tan, then called " the Sultan of Babylon," two years as an 
 engineer ; even that he became a Mahometan. This may be 
 true ; but if so, it is strange that Leonardo's contemporaries 
 make no mention of it. It was Leonardo's practice to copy 
 anything that interested him, and it is more likely that these 
 reports were transcribed from the writings of some con- 
 temporary. 
 
 Yet there is nothing improbable in the story. In those 
 days, when the wealth of the Indies still found its way to 
 Europe through the portals of the East and the lands of 
 the Orient were still full of intense vitality, they must have 
 possessed great interest for one of Leonardo's inquiring mind. 
 As for the passages in the reports indicating that the writer 
 was a Mahometan, Leonardo's faith hung so lightly upon 
 him that he would probably have had little difficulty in con- 
 forming to the religion of the country where he dwelt. He 
 ^eems to have been a deist rather than a Christian*./ "fKere" 
 is at least one passage in his wnnngs wh°ere he speaks of 
 (Christ as a mere man, and not a few where he expresses his 
 (contempt for priests and monks ; though he always speak J| 
 with lofty conviction of the goodness and majesty of God.i 
 When alj is said, however, tjje verdict on his Egyptian 
 journey must remain " not proven." 
 
 Il So jgr-fl," '"'t.ik.ppw, if was toJM'^"" that he first went on 
 Iquitti ng Florenc e. And this was natural. Milan presented 
 'the~most perfect' iiei3 in"altTl!e~worrd for the exercise and 
 development of his talents-. Mistress of the fertile Lombard 
 plain and of many subject cities, it was far larger and richer 
 than Florence. Its native school of painters, while not des- 
 titute of merit, was too weak to interpose any obstacles to 
 the principles that Leonardo advanced. It presented a great 
 
24 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 contrast to Florence in every way. Instead of, f r owning 
 structures of dark stone, lookingjcaJificJJke fortresses-QiL 
 dungeons than private dwellings, it was of brick. Even the 
 churches were of the"same material, as was the citadel-palace 
 of the dukes, the vast Castello. Only in the midst of this 
 wilderness of red baked earth the glorious cathedral arose, 
 snow white in the splendor of its new marble, but still lack- 
 ing its dome and its faqade. An d while t he rich plains en-^ 
 circled Milan on every side, far away to the north the Alps 
 rose in all their majesty, and at their feet were the glorious 
 Italian lakes which Leonardo was to love so much, and which 
 were to become his favorite haunt. I 
 
 The government of the duchy was radically different from 
 that of Florence. TheJVIedicijakdJhdLr. natiye^itj i^^^ 
 like the political boss of to^lay _in America. The forms of 
 the republic were preserved, and still possessed considerable 
 vitality. The ruler had na4^ned position, but must_consult^ 
 public opinion. The public revenues were lai^elyadmin- 
 isttTgd'-Gyme magistrates, and Lorenzo spent upon affairs 
 of state the greater part of his private fortune. 
 
 .In Milan the duke w as absolute. The vast revenues of 
 the duchy were his to spend' of squander as he pleased. 
 The long tyranny of the Visconti had practically destroyed 
 the ancient spirit of freedom; and men bowed their necks 
 submissive to the yoke. At the h ead "f thp^g^atg was Lo- 
 dovico il Moro, youngest sgatjQiJtb.e great Francesco Sforza, 
 "rufingin the name of his feeble jiephew, Gian Gal eazzo . 
 He was a splendid prince, .higlily-.ed«Gated^ a lover of art 
 and literature, a munificent patron of poets, artists and 
 philosophers. He was an enigmatic and contradictory char- 
 acferT' "Ambitious beyond measure, he yet shrank from the 
 shedding of blood in an age when every statesman recog- 
 nized the right of making away with one's opponents. Ex- 
 tremely cunning, he yet uniformly over-reached himself in 
 the end. Determined to usurp his nephew's throne, he 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 2S 
 
 married that nephew to the daughter of Alphonso of Naples, 
 the strongest (potentate in Italy, and so prepared his own 
 undoing. He was superstitious, and did nothing without 
 the- advice of his astrologers, of whom he retained a num- 
 ber about his person. His sad end casts a doubt upon the 
 wisdom of the stars. Bold in his enterprises as long as the 
 danger was at a distance, he showed himself a coward when 
 the peril was at hand. Inviting the French into Italy, he 
 turned against them as soon as they had driven his enemy 
 from the throne of Naples, only to fly without striking a 
 blow when they came to punish his treachery. He was 
 fond of pageants and splendor ; and on his cap blazed the 
 famous diamond of Charles the Bold. He received his 
 title of " II Moro," " The Moor," on account of his dark 
 complexion, and he seems to have been proud of it, adopting 
 the mulberry tree, which in Italian is also called " Moro," 
 as his coat of arms. 
 
 But at the time when Leonardo sought a home in Milan 
 none of this weakness had been made manifest. Lodovico 
 was the foremost potentate of northern Italy, rich, splen- 
 did, surrounded by a magnificent court where men of learn- 
 ing or genius found a ready welcome. It was his ambition 
 to excel the Medici as a patron of the arts ; but it must be 
 admitted that the galaxy that he gathered about him shone 
 far less brightly than that which reflects undying glory 
 on the name of Lorenzo the Magnificent... Still, he at-: 
 tracte ^ two men who arg^aaiDns-the^fhoies^ spirits of .sllthe 
 ages, Leonardo, the wizard of Art, and Bramante, the great 
 architect. """" 
 
 '^^^arpjr^U] fhat T.pnnarrlo went tn Mila n as the messen- 
 ger of Lorenzo, to bear to Lodovico a wonderful lute that 
 h"rirad~fa^ift5frgtl-rnrthe shape of a horse's Tiead^- aiid'oh.. 
 which he played ' with the gseatest skill. Lepnardg^Ay.as . 
 
 recognized as the fprerno,§l improviser.0f.his,tiai£.^L3a£L?^^ 
 he stood before Lodovico in the perfegtion,.jaLhis manly 
 
,a6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Ibfeauty, with golden locks clustering about his shouldersj 
 ^^inging in a melodious voice songs of his own composing? 
 while he touched his splendid lute, he must have taken the 
 court by storm. We know not whether it was then or at a 
 later date that he presented to Lodovico the remarkable offer 
 of his services which we find in the Codex Atlanticus, un- 
 happily without a date. In this, after setting forth many 
 •wonderful things that he could do as a military and hydraulic 
 engineer, he concludes : 
 
 "Furthermore, I can execute works in sculpture, marble, 
 bronze or terra cotta. In painting also I can do what may 
 be done as well as any other, be he who he may. 
 
 " I can likewise undertake the execution of the bronze horse, 
 which is a monument that will be to the perpetual glory and 
 immortal honor of my lord your father, of happy memory, and 
 of the illustrious house of' Sforza. 
 
 " And if any of the above-named things shall seem to many 
 to be impossible and impracticable, I am perfectly ready to 
 make trial of them in your Excellency's park, or in whatever 
 other place you shall be pleased to command, commending 
 myself to you with all possible humility." 
 
 In any other this would have been shameful boasting. 
 In Leonardo, the portion at least that deals with the fine 
 arts was only the truth. In this memorial he makes no 
 mention of his musical gifts, which would lead one to infer 
 that it was presented after Lodovico had heard him play 
 and sing, and was in a position to judge those talents for 
 himself. 
 
 Leonardo's services were engaged, and on the most flat- , 
 tering terms. We know not what his salary was at the ' 
 beginning; but while he was painting the Last Supper it 
 was two thousand ducats, the equivalent of twenty thou- 
 sand dollars a year, an une'xampled income for an artist in 
 those days. He was not a courtier, like Bramante, and he 
 was not housed in the Castello, but had his separate estab- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 27 
 
 lishment, where he lived surrounded by his pupils, and 
 where his stables were filled with the splendid horses that 
 he loved — not the long-bodied English horses that have 
 l|aow become almost universal, but the compact animals of 
 Ihis day, so well suited for artistic treatment, and such as 
 I we see upon the Parthenon frieze. Here he was the re- 
 vered master — here his genius developed, free from re- 
 straint, along its own lines. | 
 
 It was in 1482, 1483, or 1484 that he established him- 
 self in Milan. Lodovico had not yet usurped the crown, he 
 had not yet even made the fatal marriage of his nephew, 
 who was weak alike in mind and body. Nor had he ever 
 married; but was content with the charms of his favorite, 
 Cecilia Gallerani, who was worthy of his love. Beautiful, 
 sweet, gentle, highly educated and intelligent, without per- 
 sonal ambition, devoted only to her lover's interests, she 
 was the center around whom the artists, poets and scholars 
 gathered. One of Leonardo's first tasks was naturally to 
 paint her portrait. This, which excited so much admiration 
 at the time, has unhappily been lost. 
 
 The chief task for which Leonardo was brought to Milan 
 was the making of the equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza 
 that was to immortalize the founder of the house. It was 
 to be the greatest work of the kind of modern times, twenty- 
 six feet high, weighing a hundred tons; and that a young 
 maiTWlioTiaHiiever done any "sculptHf isrwor k bt togortacCfi 
 shbuld"have beeni^entrustedj^fi such a^oimni^sion reveals 
 the force of his pers onality. Leonardo set to work with 
 enthusiasm. \ Always a studentjof the anato my and move- 
 ments of the' horseTiniing the backgrouncTorKis first large 
 picture, the Adoration of the Magi, with horses admirably 
 portrayed, he made innumerable studies of horses in every 
 position^ moving "ai id at restTpl jigse sketches, which are~ 
 now scattered over the world,' are not only the most beau- 
 tiful and the most spirited, but the most accurate, of all 
 
28 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 drawmgs...af.Jth&~Moble- animal that .w:ere. ever executedl He 
 changed his design many times, and it is impossible to say 
 which was finally adopted. At first, he seems to have con- 
 templated a horse walking quietly, like those in all eques- 
 trian statues that the world then contained; but finally he 
 seems to have settled upon an animal rearing above the 
 body of a crouching foe, whose upraised shield lent a sup- 
 port to the fore feet. Upon the animal rode Sforza, in his 
 hand the baton of command. In these d ays , when t he world 
 is fulj of Jhe_jtatugs..,of,-Cfia£JggJhorses, this design seeinT" 
 simple enough ; but in, Leonardo's day it was a novelty pre- 
 senting unsolved problems. ' ' " 
 
 At Windsor there are some drawings for the statue show- 
 ing the horse walking quietly, and on them are notes for the 
 castings; whence it has been inferred that such was his 
 final design. In reality it proves nothing. Leonardo knew 
 that he must cast the statue himself, and the problem con- 
 fronted him in the beginning. 
 
 The statue was finished in plaster in 1493, and was ex- 
 hibited under a triumphal arch on the occasion of the 
 marriage of Lodovico's niece Bianca Maria Sforza to the 
 Emperor Maximilian. But by that time the ducal finances 
 were so depleted that there was no money to pay for its 
 casting, and when, six years later, Lodovico was driven froim 
 his throne, the disintegi-ation of the model began. " The 
 Gascon archers of the conqueror used it as a target for theiT^ 
 cross-bows, and then it seems to have been left exposed 
 to the weather till it perished. We hear of it in 1501, when 
 Ercole d'Este tried to secure it for the adornment of Fer- 
 rara ; but after that it is mentioned no more. 
 
 Later on, when Leonardo had returned to Florence, the 
 bitter and churlish Michelangelo publicly taunted him with 
 the failure to complete his statue. But the reproach was 
 uiijust. Leonardo consumed no more time in the making 
 of the statue than St. Gaudens spent on the Sherman monu- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 29 
 
 ment, and it was far larger and more original. Then, too, 
 he did all that a sculptor should be required to do, all that 
 any modern sculptor does. The casting of the statue in 
 bronze is not an artist's work, but the labor of a founder. 
 Even this Leonardo might have done had not the low state 
 of the ducal finances precluded the expense. He had made 
 his arrangements to cast it in five parts; but neither the 
 metal nor the money to pay his assistants was forthcoming. 
 
 The destruction of Leonardo's model is an irreparable 
 OSS to art. The surpassing excellence of the drawings that 
 he made for it justify the belief that it was the noblest 1 
 equestrian monument ever produced, and that had it come J 
 down to us. Leonar(lo wou ld have be^ ranked notmerehp^ 
 the painter of the grAttest of all pictures, but^ the maker 
 of the world's most M)ble stattie-^ 
 
 The Last S upper is generally concg^fid. tO„US- the.^eatest. 
 picture ever painted. It is the first picture of njQdSTJl- times 
 that possessedltrue grandeur of style, and it still remains un- 
 approachable. It IS the world's supreme masterpiece in com- 
 position. Chrfst and his disciples sit in a plainly furnished 
 room at a long, table, behind which there are three windows 
 looking out u^on an extended prospect softly lighted. In 
 front of the- central window is the figure^ of our Sayioui% 
 bathed in a gentle radiance that serves him as a halo. He 
 has just spoken the words, " One of you shall betray me," 
 and the effect of the appalling annpUncemehtls seen in the 
 faces of all tfie"'disciples and in all their gestures. With un- 
 paralleled skilPffi^' are thrown into'grotips of three so 
 naturally that it seems as if any other arrangement would 
 be impossible. Their .agitation is great and manifest; but 
 behind it all there is an immense reserve force. Christ Js_ 
 left alone in the center, yet every rnpyement, every'emotion 
 is centered in him. In the nobility of the faces of all save 
 Judas, in his aspect of cruel and impenitent resolve, art 
 has spoken its loftiest word. In the old pictures Judas -had 
 
30 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 been isolated on the other side of the table, with his back to 
 the spectator, an improbable and inartistic arrangement. 
 Leonardo puts him amongst the most favored disciples, be- 
 tween St. Peter and St. John; but he accomplishes the 
 same result of separating him from the others by causing 
 him to lean forward upon the table, facing his Master with 
 implacable gaze as he clutches the money-bag and overturns 
 the salt-cellar. Long did Leonardo work upon it; and at 
 last, when in 1479, he desisted, he left the face of Christ un- 
 finished, despairing of making for the Master a countenance 
 grander than those of some of his disciples. At least, so 
 says Vasari; though in the present state of the work we 
 cannot discern that this head is less finished than the others. 
 Most wonderful is the rhythmic grace of the composition. 
 Three of the figures are standing, but they lean forward so 
 gracefully that their heads scarcely rise above those of their 
 seated companions, and they only accentuate the harmony of 
 the lines. 
 
 This is one of the rare works that speak the final word 
 upon their subject. When the Last Supper is spoken of, 
 this picture inevitably arises before the mind's eye. It has 
 made all previous presentations of the theme crude and 
 primitive, all subsequent ones comparatively weak and in- 
 effective. 
 
 Leonardo spent ten years upon the picture, and the good 
 monks were sorely vexed by the delay. Once he had to 
 silence the worthy prior, who had complained to the Duke, 
 by a threat to use him for a model of the Judas. He made 
 Lodovico understand that an artist is often best employed 
 when using his mind, not his hand. But when the work was 
 finished the monks were more than content, and it was uni- 
 versally recognized as the world's masterpiece. 
 
 In this, as in all his other works, Leonardo avoided the 
 introduction of portraits into religious pictures, creating types 
 instead of limning the features of his contemporaries, as did 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 31 
 
 other artists of the time. So, too, instead of the costume 
 of the day, which usually appears in the works of his fellow 
 artists, he gives us simple draperies that are appropriate to 
 every age, and which hang in folds of a consummate grace 
 and dignity not unworthy of Phidias himself. 
 His method of working is thus described by Bandello : 
 "^lLwas.JSQnt!! records J:his_5Kriter^" as I myself have 
 often seen, to mount the scaffolding early_ig„thfi_mQming,, 
 and Work-«ntil-the-apprcadrof rirgEtVand in theintergabof. 
 
 painting he forgot both meat and^drijJc. Thencame two, 
 
 three or even four days when he did not stir ,a.,hand,_but 
 spent an hour or-two. in contemplating his_work,_examinigg 
 ^nd GEiticJzi,ng_his_figures-^ I Save seen him, too, at noon, 
 when ,the sun stood in the sign of Leo, leave the Qjrte 
 Vecchia (in the center of the town) where he was engaged 
 on his equestrian statue, and go straight to Santa Maria 
 delle Grazie, mount the scaffolding, seize a brush, add two 
 or three touches to a single figure, and return forthwith." 
 
 Unhappily, Leonardo made a fatal mistake in the medium 
 that he employed. Fresco was not suited to the delicate 
 effects that he sought, and the necessity of painting in haste 
 before the plaster dried was incompatible with his deliberate 
 methods of work. So he painted in tempera upon the wall. 
 It used to be universally believed that it was in oil ; but the 
 recent investigations of the Cavaliere Cavenaghi, who has 
 restored the picture with such skill, prove that tempera was 
 the medium employed. Had he painted on wood or canvas 
 and then placed it in position, like the Venetians and the 
 mural decorators of to-day, his masterpiece would no doubt 
 still be untouched by time; ^ut the dampness of the wall 
 caused the paint to fade and scale, so that even in Vasari's 
 days it was already a wreck. Since then it has been re- 
 painted at least twice ; in 1652 the I'egs of Christ were cut 
 away to make a door, and during the French Revolution the 
 refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie, on whose end wall it 
 
32 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 was painted, was used as a stable, and the French soldiers 
 amused themselves by throwing stones at the heads of Christ 
 and his disciples ; so that the present condition of this work 
 is deplorable. Still, faded and scarred as it is, it yet pos- 
 sesses a dignity, a lofty and harmonious beauty, an organic 
 perfection surpassing any other work of mortal brush. 
 Even in its ruined state there is in it a greatness and a 
 charm which are not found in any of the innumerable copies 
 that were made. when the picture was still unspoiled. 
 
 In 1401. at the age of f orty. Lod ovlco mar rie.d the you ^- 
 fuT B g atrj ffi I till falSa lntelligenra n?"" 3SiSitipu s, she infused 
 into her husband's policy a boldness that it had lacked. If, 
 as is generally believed, Gian Galeazzo, the rightful Duke, 
 was poisoned by his orders, it was most likely at the sug- 
 gestion of Beatrice, who probably had not those scruples 
 against bloodshed that so distinguished her husband among 
 the rulers of his age. Youn^ a nd hrillia^tr f Qfl ^. Mif.. ^ ^^'^^ 
 and of pomp and page antry. Beatrice bec^ne the cente 
 
 I III! iLllffwy 'lailll'llll'l'M"'''*'"^'' I I *, s -^ -r<-rti-t^»^'.'. ^ V,'*s*%r 
 
 tneTife oftj^^fig^rt. Shejcompelled Lodoyjy.^^^ ,_^^_^^^__^^,_^ 
 
 to marry her to one of ^his^nobles. ijermar^f, paintprl Bpg-. 
 trice's portrait^KjMatJJihauIUiktmid,^ wall opposite 
 irx^LastSuMer4Jiaii.sea^i3U£SG^ Bgatuee. 
 
 d%wj49JurfuJ©Ji»ei».h««b^^ 
 power, and wasjpTe,4jtlj^,misgryj3if^^W 
 
 y2ov^o3Si2~^-faijLX0U2S,Jj^^^ M hejcpjijljot 
 retnain long constant; |!,|i4after.a few months or yep,rs.Jie 
 took as his favorite Lucrezia Crivelli, of whom we knqw 
 little save fMt' she. found favor in his eyes. Th^- -p.if; ,^| y^_ 
 in the Louvre called la Belle 'Per gnnibre _{$ supposed., to 
 be Leonardo's portrait of her ; but fine as it is, it lacks the 
 masi:er''s suavity, and there fs rntich cause to-dmribt wheter 
 it is by hisliarid, arid no especial reason to believe that it rep- 
 resents the, fair, Lucrezia. 
 
 But in the Ambrogian Library there is a portrait of a 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 33 
 
 young girl of an exquisite purity and a ravishing charm 
 which the wisest believe to be Leonardo's work. Morelli, 
 who had a singular predilection for Ambrogio de Predis, 
 assigns this lovely gem to him, and his lead has been fol- 
 lowed by many authorities; but it seems more reasonable 
 to give this exquisite production to the one man who un- 
 questionably could have painted it. While at Milan he prob- 
 abl v painted also the Mad on na Litt a now in St^^Pe^rsburgJ 
 a picture whgs£,ai^to3tkilxi£giSti^ 
 and§uavity make it worthy of the master. 
 
 While Beatrice was duchess, the pageants in which the 
 momarcKs 'and people of the Renaissance'HeE^KFeS' were" 
 more ' numerous tiian before7^aff'a'1fitrch«of''>tfee'«time of Leo- 
 
 diSpIaysT^Tne brilliancy of the court was increaSed from 
 time to time by visits from Beatrice's sister, Isabella d'Este, 
 Marchioness of Mantua, the most brilliant woman in an era 
 of brilliant women. 
 
 It was an age of pageant s. At a time when tl i ff^flpj y j^ji^ 
 worii was^so,brj^t-.aa4..51-^'?y.hued that a gathering of the 
 p^^^Hrho]ida;^att^ire.w 
 
 ble thaTmSnskouKd love such display. Every festivaly^eivgjQ:.. 
 gr^at "evetit,'"'was celeBrateB*^"' "parades in which figured 
 fIoa{r^orTanci M]designs.an j£»to«ers -ojSe,o,Ba4atea.iy,4SK, 
 gr'gafesT'artrsts. For the arrangement of th^se„£estixitis.§-. 
 
 the talents of Leon^ter^(d::;:BSnant« -were-ifr-^wqa^^ 
 reqiiisittol^' 'Wrmay believe that Leonardo's ^ftfts-wei*,. 
 tfie'^ore'^tef'eMng "arid original,- Brama»te^ --fe««jBaiKn 
 sta!elyT"^ seems "a pity. that .^ch lofty talents should have 
 "^ggexpended on wo^sthatjasfei3,,.orily fOr ft^Mv- ^ 
 
 ""TT^if-falTly'certaiyifltlPit; ^^^ Sala. delle.. A.ssfi..in..t.hfi CaS^ 
 tello was adprned by Leonardo. ''Its decorations have but 
 recently^Jbegi._^_uncpv§ffil,,,ajQ4«^e^ 
 pamteljto represent- a i&msti .the-jQvejraiK)!^- tjanch^^^^^ 
 erin? the ceiling so that one seems, to be in the midst oi a 
 
34 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 verdant grove. Other pictures he painted, too, while at 
 MiTan, of which Vasari and Lomazzo speak, but which have 
 disappeared. Meantime he w as^also makii)ggr^j^gaiiSTS 
 of wnnHprfnrfTrawings thaTwere'iiofTht^SegTO fonn part 
 of any picture. No artist ever sought to pe netrate the 
 secret' of personality with ;,,^uch " persistence^ It was ^ 
 human countenance^, that mQ.^ concerned him. If he met a 
 person whose.. Jace--fit'Waefc''i»m-' ay tmtRm^T'^w fietfiM^ jQ^ 
 beauty"or"uglin£^l.,pr.^§t?angien.ess^ofj^gre^^ 
 follow him "|qr hours^ striving to -extract the se cret'orhis 
 mdrviHualityr He was a hunter of^ ihe,..^ul»> P» - rAMing it 
 ill its niostfecondite hidirg^places,,|m4,tr3fir]ig to drag it to the 
 light "^ loved beauty^,pgffi}£ularlj^ when J^ 
 "sohiething oTstrangeness ; but deformity had for him almost 
 
 as j;^reat a^faggaatW®/, ^All^sorts oiJiSi«iu£i^i^2iU^?- 
 skgtdtimofes- Provided only that they were not common- 
 place, that they possessed some quality of grace or deformity 
 that distinguished them from the vulgar herd, he deemed 
 them worthy of his pencil. Every period of humanity, every 
 aspect of thg^^Qul, is, Revealed to us in^thele wonderful 
 drawings, the mpst.exquisiVe^fEal'.lHcBa'^^TOtTnaiir^ver, 
 made, the most subtle in their searching of the human heart. 
 If nothing had survived oTTTeonaFdo's save .Sis' drawings, 
 we^should be compelled to recognize in him one of ..tbemas- 
 ter spirfts'^.all times. ..— — ~-™"— -■ ■ 
 
 "^ _all _that_Leom[rd'o did,, he was an innovator. He was 
 pever content to foUow the beaten track.. Each picturF 
 
 twas to him a problem to be solved as^sreJl as a thin ^M 
 eauty to create ; and he solved more artistic problems than 
 ny' other man'that ever lived, so many that he madelET^ 
 Way of the modern artist easy. ' -— — — 
 
 Amongst his innovations was the practice of drawing^ his 
 figures nude aind afterwards clothing them, a practice which 
 Raphael borrowed, and which most later artists have 
 adopted. In this way he attained a vitality, a soundness 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 35 
 
 of structure unknown to his predecessors. It was to this 
 systernal§£Lthatlhe-0wed his maTvelefaS^skllKn the handling 
 of drapeneSj:::;.a.,^U. which only Phi4ia&».GOuld. -surpass, 
 ana'wh'ich noj)J*.er jTt.islp.f mpdern times has equaled. 
 
 But while he was revolutionizing art, so^tEaTair who 
 preceded him were reduced to the condition of primitives, 
 he was making those investigations into nature which show 
 a penetration unique in history. He was the only man great 
 aUke in art and science, and in both he was so great that 
 in neither department has he been excelled. His scientific 
 discoveries are so numerous that it would require volumes 
 to set them forth; and this is not the place for their ex- 1 
 position. Yet no view of Leonardo would be complete with- 1 
 out some reference to them, and we may speak briefly of a 
 few, to give the reader a faint idea of the breadth of his i 
 achievement. 
 
 Long before Bacon's birth he set forth the principles of 
 inductive science; and'-the great Englishman adds scarcely 
 a thought to Leonardo's contribution. When Copernicus 
 was a boy and Galileo still unborn, Leonardo wrote, " II 
 sole non move," " The sun does not move," thus compelling 
 the earth to revolve about it. Our position in the universe 
 he understood, and wrote, " Even if a man were as large 
 as our world, he would, in the universe, seem only like the 
 very smallest star, which looks merely like a point." In 
 those days, when sea shells found on the tops of mountains 
 were accepted as conclusive evidence of the Flood, he showed 
 that the slow crawling molluscs could not have reached the 
 summits during the time that the Flood lasted, and that the 
 mountains were once at the bottom of the ocean. Of 
 the Flood itself he says that if the waters ascended above 
 the mountains, they must have encircled the earth at the same 
 height, and could not have subsided, for they would have 
 had no place to go to. When all men accepted literally the 
 story of the six days of creation, he estimated that it had 
 
36 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 taken at least two hundred thousand years for the Po to 
 do its visible work of erosionyHe recognized the power 
 of steam, and used it to throw balls and turn spits. He dis- 
 nn^^rpr l th^ ttippfy nf _ <;nmplementarv color s, and realizea 
 thaiF ^hite and black were~norc£flors-trt-ail.'"~He" understood * 
 tiieTaws of qptici","an"d''dise6verea' "the camera obscura. He 
 laid down the profound principle, now universally accepted, 
 -that motion is the cause of all life. Long before Harvey 
 was born, he understood the circulation of the blood and 
 the function of the heart as a tireless pump. He under- 
 stood that water is composed of countless molecules. He 
 watched the rhythmic advance of the ocean's waves, and he 
 comprehended that light and sound moved in the same 
 way. He understood the law of gravitation, and knew that 
 it is the force that draws objects towards the earth's center 
 and holds the universe together. He looked at the faintly ~ 
 illuminated body of the new moon, and divined that it was 
 the earth's reflection that lit it up. In the structure and 
 growth of plants he made great discoveries. He knew that 
 the tides obeyed the moon, and that the ocean rose highest 
 at the equator. In an age when all men believed in the 
 occult sciences, he demonstrated the folly of every system 
 of divination. 
 
 In mechanics he equally excelled. He showed the advan- 
 tages of conical bullets and of breech-loading guns. He 
 devised guns composed of many barrels mechanically dis- 
 charged. He made more mechanical inventions than any 
 man that ever lived, some of them merely wonderful toys 
 for the diversion of his contemporaries, others ingenious 
 contrivances for scientific investigation, many of practical 
 utility that continued in use until recent times; a few that 
 are still in service, like the hoisting apparatus with which 
 the obelisks of London and New York were reared into 
 position, or the saws still employed in the quarries of Car- 
 rara. He also demonstrated the advantage of the screw 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 37 
 
 propellers with which our leviathans of the deep are now 
 driven across the waves, and our aeroplanes and dirigibles 
 hurled through space. 
 
 He gave much attention to aerial navigation, studying 
 the flight of birds, and. a passage in his writings of lyrical 
 fervor shows that at one time he felt sure that he had 
 found its secret. But gasoline had not then been discovered, 
 nor the gasoline engine invented, and he failed for want 
 of motive power. Were he living to-day he would be the 
 wizard of the air. As it was, he invented the parachute. 
 
 We know that he did not construct all the canals and 
 levees of the valley of the Po, as was once believed ; but he 
 was a great hydraulic engineer. , He was also a great cartog^ 
 rapher ; and the maps that he niade, which are'lrrffie n3J;!iCS< 
 of bira's-eye views of the regions depicted, are^prg^^ly. 
 tEir"m5sri3(ra^flfi¥uT^er*QFSwn^and surprisingly accurate. 
 
 He;^^3gI©3eatea^,smatQQjiSt::90^^ 
 stated that he had dissected more than a hundred bodies of 
 alfliges^ana both"sexes7' and '^fs' anatomical 3ra^y,ings are 
 decIar&J by experts to be the mos?'^eff ecf ^^er^made. In 
 an age when_disiection,jvas_£5teenie(i_ a great crime and 
 h'dniciHea venial offense, Leonardo wrote on one, of his 
 anatomical drawings: "And thou,, oh man, who through 
 this~worE"^f mine learnest to understand ,ths marvelous 
 woflcslof nature, if thou believest it to be a crime to dis- 
 seErthe human body, consider, hov\f infinitely more wicked 
 it is to take the, life of a man; and if jtiis outer form ap- 
 pears' wonderfully, made, consider that it is , as nothing com- 
 pared with the,§p«l;that4wells-mthis l?o,dy.; fp^ this, what- 
 ever it may be, is a, thing; of God. Let .it therefore dw^ll 
 in His work according to His yvill, and ^ppd pleasure, and 
 4o not let your anger or your wickedne!s§. (i^stirpy ,. a life.,; 
 for, yeirily, he who does not value life, dpes- not deserve ito 
 ' possess it." 
 
 in fiis pifcitures there is no obtrusion of anatomical knowl- 
 
38 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 / edge. The groundwork of bone and muscle is always hid- 
 den beneath the flesh. Leonardo said that a picture should 
 always look as if it had cost no effort to paint it ; and in this 
 he succeeded. How different from many of our painters 
 of to-day, who wish every stroke of the brush to show! 
 " The more an art involves of physical labor, the baser 
 it is," he said; and so he placed painting above' sculpture. 
 
 He was pr obably the f irst man to clim b a very high moun- 
 tain. _He tells us thatHKe'asmigeSrHQate-.R osa, and^ob^ 
 
 served the brightness oj the light and,jSjSi^WJ:at,QOiaSJ^^ 
 in "tUTellcy due to the rarification gf^thg. atmosphere,^ 
 
 As *w£l2l2i>3^ remarked, had Leonardo published his- dis- 
 coveries it .-sy^ijlj^haye advanced the progress of science a 
 hundred years. Why'lSe buried tliem in his "strange re- 
 verse3"Vriting we can only guess. Some of them the big- 
 otry of the age would have visited with the fate of Galileo 
 or Bruno. Then in those days when there were no laws 
 of copyright or patent, and when men took freely' what 
 they found, he naturally feared that if he let his discoveries 
 be knowft, he would be robbed of their glory. Probably he 
 intended, in som e tim e of leisure to put his notes into shape 
 and givg„tb,gHl.. ,tQ ~i^R^ wbTfrJ'f~Kif *tfie leisurj;" never. ggj;^^ 
 affl.4.i2»^§aii&JMj|Jihis Jis^^^ were burie^j^ 
 
 him, and it has required the labor of hundreds to-^aang- 
 them again tp light. One of tibe. strangest ,things._.a,b0Ut 
 hirp IS that throughout {lis long life his handwriting under- 
 went no change, so- that it gives no clue to the dafe""^^]s; 
 comppsit^pps. 
 
 Yet he was fgndjof teaching;: — At' Milan he -fQrmei.the 
 " AcadBmiaTLeonardo da Vinci," and here he gave to his 
 followefs'iristructron-iRjronTyTuthe arts,T)ut m the Sciences. 
 It seems probable that a large portion of .his- writ ings, jn- 
 cluding_ib£^ 'i Treatise-©ft-^ainting,!!_the- jnost-instrtrctive 
 work ever written on the-subject,~wer-e notes, for his lectures. 
 He was attached to his„pupilsr-a-idiflg- them with- both nron^ 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 39 
 
 and advice, and we know how deeply he was belovedby at 
 least twcr~6rTBBfim, l^Ielzi and Salai. ^ Here at Milan he 
 formed the most gracious and lovely school of art that the 
 world has seen. His followers naturally lacked his strength ' 
 atrtt^s profundity of vision ; but the grace and suavity of 
 his style are reflected in their works; even in the cas.e of 
 men who, like Luini, II Sodoma and Correggio, were never 
 his immediate disciples. He was not a lettered man, and 
 he dispised the artifices of style. But he was one -of the 
 world's great describers. His descriptions of stOTms"at sea 
 and on land and of the aspect of a battle in the " Treatise on 
 Painting,^' are the most penetrating in observation, and 
 among the rribsl eloquent that were ever penned. 
 
 tJt^Leonardo's'poetry no trace remains. The common- 
 place sonnet once attributed to him is now known to be 
 from another hand. It is not recorded that he ever com- 
 mitted to paper any of the improvisations that delighted his 
 contemporaries. 
 <;;NotJaitertha£i4£5l£Oin^^ 
 
 as pupil and body-s^vaiTTj^oung Mil^ Salai 
 
 OT~Ss£t^m^y^iW^.ioxJhe reauty of hgjerig^gyalllis, 
 
 Tong'gotden hair. He served Leonardo '^ithfully on the 
 whole,' anTi^i^^^ikcJjeSime deeply attad^(i[J^|^u a^ On 
 one occasion, as we read in Leonardo's journal?, he bought 
 for ""SaET^a^agnTScent cloak ; and shortly 3i{tetW£fdS"we' 
 read the saS'entry," -Salai has" 'stolen 4 soldi." ^But still, 
 Leonardo did„iipl withdi^aw his confidence, and Salai re- 
 maiiied in his servicte until the master's departure for^ 
 France, a period of at least twenty years. ' In Italy 'fHere' 
 ha^Tiever "existed the gulf between master and man that ex- 
 ists in lands where the feudal system has had full sway, and 
 the relations between Leonardo and Salai were rather those' 
 of companion and JriepOhi^pJ^mastg^iy^^ 
 uTidersfaSTd the teriji. 
 
 ' ^twVs'Salai*s beautiful hair that first won Leonardo's 
 
40 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 favor, and this reminds us of the fascination which hair 
 seemed always to possess for the master. No artist ever 
 loved hair so much or painted it with such skill, now twined 
 about the head in cunning braids, now flowing loose in silken 
 splendor. He took infinite pains in its presentation, draw- 
 ing each particular hair with more than a Dutchman's love 
 of detail, yet without sacrifice of the general effect. He 
 was the first in art to realize the potency of those gleaming 
 locks that have ensnared the hearts of men so often; and 
 his skill in rendering their charm remains unrivaled. It 
 has been strangely observed that a love of beautiful hair 
 betrays a sensual mind ; but Leonardo was the least sensual 
 of men. 
 
 In his later days' a t Milan his stipend..was., Jrrei:ular lv 
 
 aMjL^iardo was often m straits to maintain his large es- 
 ta^ Stiil,TirT;ar'^Wrto"save°1rnoney, as1s*sfi6wii 
 by the fact that before his return to, Florence he deposited 
 600 florins, the equivalent of six thousand dollars, at the 
 Hospital of Santa Maria Nuova. Moreover, the Duke gave 
 him a valuable vineyard outside the city gates early in 1499. 
 Above all, he was free in his northern home to develop his 
 genius along its own lines. Without Milan we should not 
 have had Leonardo in the plenitude of his power, as with- 
 out Weimar Gloethe could not have been the Goethe that we 
 know. 
 
 Ill 
 
 LATER DAYS 
 
 In 1499 Louis XII of France prepared to attack Milan 
 to avenge the treachery of its Duke on the occasion of thev 
 expedition of Charles VIII to Naples. At the news of the 
 coming invasion Lodovico was seized with terror. He 
 sought allies on every hand, but none cared to incur the 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 41 
 
 / 
 enmity of the most powerful nation in Europe. He who 
 had called the French into Italy, and so sealed his coun- 
 try's doom, now even begged the unspeakable Turk to send 
 an army to, his assistance. It was all in vain. Then he 
 sent his children and a treasure of 250,000 ducats, equal 
 to two millions and a half of our money, into Germany, 
 and on the approach of the French he fled in panic on Sep- 
 tember 21, 1499, leaving the Castello with 150,000 ducats 
 in charge of Bernardino da Corte, with instructions to hold 
 it till he could return with reenforcements. But upon the 
 entry of the French into the city the treacherous Bernardino 
 yielded up the Castello without a blow, in consideration of 
 a large reward. 
 
 Of Lodovico's brief restoration during the following 
 spring, of his shameful betrayal into the hands of the French 
 by his Swiss mercenaries, of his eight years' imprisonment 
 in France and of his wretched end in the horrible under- 
 ground dungeon of the castle of Loches, we need not speak ; 
 for with his flight to Germainy he passes out of Leonardo's 
 life forever. 
 
 The possession of such large treasures as his flight re- 
 vealed makes us wonder why he was so remiss in paying the 
 sums due the master. No doubt the cloud hovering in the 
 west admonished him to hoard his wealth for purposes of 
 war. 
 
 Upon Lodovico's fate Leonardo makes in his records this 
 short but tragic entry : " The Duke lost state, possessions 
 and liberty, and no undertaking was completed by him." 
 
 Leonardo remained in Milan; but in December, 1499, ^^ 
 we have seen, he sent the greater part of his money, 600 
 ducats, to Florence, where it was deposited at the Hospital 
 of Santa Maria Nuova. He witnessed the triumphant en- 
 try of Louis XII on October 6, 1499, when the French 
 monarch came attended by Caesar Borgia and many other 
 lords. Louis was not without taste in the fine arts, and he 
 
42 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 was so impressed by the Last Supper that he wished to 
 detach it from the wall and transport it across the Alps. 
 Fortunately he found no engineer rash enough for such an 
 undertaking. No doubt the artist was presented to him, but 
 we have no record of their meeting. 
 
 The labors of pacifying and annexing a large principality 
 allowed little time for the encouragement of the arts, but 
 Louis must have given Leonardo some commission, since 
 we find him a year and a half later speaking of his engage- 
 ment with the king. Still, in its unsettled condition Milan 
 was not a pleasant abode for an artist. Amid the clash of 
 arms the arts were silent. /So Leonardo departed late in 
 the year 1499, with Salai, and stopped for a time at Man- 
 tua, where he made a beautiful cartoon of Isabella d'Este, 
 generally believed to be the one that adorns the Louvre. 
 Vainly she strove to attach him to her court, to succeed 
 Mantegna, whose powerful brush was dropping from his 
 aged hand. / It must have been hard to resist her entreaties, 
 for she was the loveliest woman of her time, a devoted wife, 
 a tender and sagacious mother, mistress of all polite learn- 
 ing, and possessed of a charm of manner and a brilliancy 
 of- intellect that made her the center of every gathering. 
 But a provincial town offered few attractions to Leonardo, 
 and he passed on to Venice, then at the height of her glory. 
 We know that he was in Venice on the 13th of March, 
 1500; but his stay there was brief, and shortly afterward 
 we find him back in Florence. 
 
 The Florence to which Leonardo returned was sadly dif- 
 ferent from the Florence that he had left more than fifteen 
 years before.^ Lorenzo the Magnificent was dead, and the 
 brilliant galaxy of poets and scholars that were gathered 
 about him had died or been dispersed. Wars and civil tu- 
 mults and the spirit of religious frenzy aroused by the preach- 
 ing of Savonarola had resulted in general bankruptcy. Ver- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 43 
 
 rocchio and most of the other great artists whom Leonardo 
 had known had passed away. Botticelli was still alive, but 
 he had been spoiled by Savonarola, and instead of the 
 gracious and lovely pictures of his earlier days, he was 
 painting gloomy entombments, for which he had no talent. 
 Baccio della Porta had renounced the brush, and shut him- 
 self up in a monastery as Fra Bartolommeo. Piero di 
 Cosimo had given up the quaint pagan conceits which had 
 constituted his charm, and was trying to win salvation by 
 making poor religious pictures. Lorenzo di Credi and Filip- 
 pino Lippi were still painting ; but they had gained nothing 
 in power. Ridolfo Ghirlandajo was a lad of seventeen, des- 
 tined to learn much from Leonardo. Raphael had not yet 
 come. On the other hand, Perugiao was in his prime, and 
 spent much time' in Florence. He was then the most popu- 
 lar painter in Italy, and a great favorite with his patrons ; 
 for when they ordered a picture of him and paid his price, 
 they were sure to get it, though it might be painted from 
 his designs by one of his numerous assistants. Though but 
 twenty-five years of age, the real head of the Florentine 
 School was Michelangelo, who had already given proof of 
 his transcendent genius. 
 
 Amongst these men Leonardo came to cast his lot. He 
 had left Florence a young man of great promise and slight 
 achievement ; he came back the foremost artist in the world. 
 His Last Supper had borne his fame through Italy and be- 
 yond the Alps. On his return to his native city he was 
 warmly greeted by all members of his profession save 
 Michelangelo. 
 
 / It was but natural that the mind of Michelangelo, in- 
 tense, powerful, deeply religious, but comparatively nai-- 
 row, should feel aversion for this man, who regarded all 
 things with philosophic doubt, and accepted nothing that 
 had not been proved. And with his directness of artistic 
 
44 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 vision, which saw in the marble the statue praying to be 
 liberated, it was inevitable that Michelangelo should con- 
 sider as a trifler and a dilettante one who made a hundred 
 studies for every picture, and who in his desire to do some- 
 thing more perfect than was possible to mortal brush rardy 
 brought anything to completion. Certain it is that without 
 apparent provocation he hated his illustrious rival^^-- — 
 
 It was no doubt shortly after Leonardo's arrival in Flor- 
 ence that the famous encounter between him 'and Michel- 
 angelo took place. Some gentlemen were standing on the 
 street discussing a passage in Dante, and Leonardo ap- 
 proaching, they asked him to expouiid it. Just then Michel- 
 angelo passed, hurrying to his work; and knowing him to 
 be a great student of Dante, Leonardo courteously suggested 
 that Messer Michelangelo would be able to explain it to 
 them ; whereupon the younger man, thinking that Leonardo 
 intended to mock him, exclaimed : " Thou who madest a 
 model of a horse to cast it in bronze, and finding thyself un- 
 able to do so, wert forced with shame to give up the attempt, 
 explain it thyself, if thou canst." Leonardo turned red, but 
 made no reply. 
 
 It is easy to picture the scene to the mind's eye ; the nar- 
 row Florentine streets where men must pass close to one 
 another ; the frowning palaces of dark stone on either side ; 
 the grave burghers in earnest converse ; Leonardo coming up 
 in all his manly beauty, the golden locks now tinged with 
 gray falling about his shoulders, clad in splendid garments 
 and with the manners of a prince, always at leisure to con- 
 verse with worthy men; the young Michelangelo hurrying 
 past, powerfully built but rather short and without grace, 
 his naturally homely features rendered still more so by his 
 broken nose, roughly clad in woolen garments, his mind 
 full of his work and of the terrible prophecies of Savon- 
 arola, with no time to talk to anyone ; the courteous invita- 
 tion, the churlish rebuff, and the mortification of the mas- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 45 
 
 ter, accustomed to being treated with respect, even by the 
 great of the earth. 
 
 , On his return to Florence Leonardo at first gave himself 
 up to mathematics and to hydraulic engineering, planning 
 the canalization of the Arno from Florence to its mouths' 
 He also proposed to raise the Baptistry, which is now befow 
 the level of the street, and set it upon a becoming founda- 
 tion. This suggestion was considered chimerical, though 
 his persuasive powers were such that while they listened 
 men believed. Many larger buildings have since been lifted ; 
 and no doubt Leonardo would have been able to make good 
 his boast had he been permitted. In the meantime Isabella 
 d'Este was vainly supplicating him for a picture. 
 
 Leonardo's life at Florence was extremely simple. Ac- 
 customed fot years to live like a prince, he now contented 
 himself with living as a simple Florentine artist. Each day 
 he gave Salai the money to buy their modest provisions, and 
 as he was doing little to secure an income, Jie saw his funds 
 running daily lower. 
 
 Shortly after establishing himself again in his native 
 city, Leonardo heard of a commission that had been given 
 by the Servite Monks to Filippino Lippi to paint an altar- 
 piece for their church of the Annunziata. Probably in the 
 impoverished condition of Florence commissions were hard 
 to get. At any rate, Leonardo expressed a desire to do this 
 work; and Filippino, who seems to have been_pne of the 
 most amiable of men, resigned in his favor.-' In order to 
 hasten it, the Servites took Leonardo and all his following 
 into their monastery. He procrastinated as usual, however,-- 
 and it was not until the following spring that he had the 
 cartoon ready. When it was exhibited it was a thing of 
 such marvelous beauty that all Florence thronged to see it as 
 to a festa, and the good monks thought that they were going 
 to get a masterpiece indeed. But the work proceeded no 
 further; and after three years of waiting, they gave up 
 
46 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 hope, and again employed Filippino, who was prevented by 
 death from painting the picture, so that finally Perugino 
 made for them the Crucifixion, now in the Academy at 
 Florence. 
 
 For some inexplicable reason most writers have assumed 
 that this cartoon is the one now at London in Burlington 
 House. Yet Vasari expressly states that it contained a 
 lamb, and there is no lamb in that cartoon. The recently 
 discovered letter of Pietro da Nuvolaria to Isabella d'Este 
 of April 3, 1 501, describing the picture as Vasari does, but 
 with more precision, shows that it was either the St. Anne 
 of the Louvre, or more probably the lost cartoon from which 
 that masterpiece was painted. 
 
 There is something unbecoming in one grown woman's 
 sitting in the lap of another, though the motive was not un- 
 known in medieval and Renaissance art; and at the first 
 glance the eye is offended by this Virgin who sits on her 
 mother's knees. But when this feeling has passed away, 
 the ineffable sweetness and beauty of the composition en- 
 thrall us, and the more we study it the more we share the 
 enthusiasm that it aroused in the breasts of the good people 
 of Florence. It was bought by Francis the First in 1516, 
 but strayed back into Italy, where Cardinal Richelieu ac- 
 quired it at the time of the siege of Casale in 1616. 
 
 We next hear of Leonardo in September, 1501, as the 
 military engineer of Caesar Borgia. As such he traveled 
 most actively, inspecting all of Caesar's important fortresses. 
 Much ridicule has been made of Caesar for employing an 
 elderly painter in such a capacity ; but the Borgia was emi- 
 nently practical, absolutely without illusions or respect for 
 virtues, and the fact that on August 18, 1502, after a year's 
 service, he gave Leonardo a commission most sweeping in 
 its terms, bidding the commanders of all his garrisons to 
 show everything to him, and to place everything at his 
 service, proves that the master must have displayed in mat- 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 47 
 
 ters of war the transcendent talents that he manifested in so 
 manj other fields of activity. 
 .^ Leonardo has often been reproached for entering the 
 service of the wickedest man of modern times. In those 
 days, however, artists, scholars and engineers did not pre- 
 sume to scan the morals of princes ; and many of the greatest 
 monsters of the Renaissance lived surrounded by the choic- 
 est spirits of their time/} Sigismondo Malatesta was almost 
 as bad as Caesar Borgia; yet Leo Battista Alberti, Leo- 
 nardo's worthy predecessor, was his honored guest. It is 
 to be doubted whether any artist, scholar or engineer in 
 Italy would have refused an offer of employment from 
 Caesar Borgia because of his crimes. 
 
 It has often been suggested that Leonardo made for 
 Caesar the beautiful maps of Tuscany that have come down 
 to us. This is incredible. Leonardo was a good man, hon- 
 orable and just in all his dealings; and it is not to be be- 
 lieved that he would have made maps of his native land for 
 tlie demon of cruelty and guile, who, as he must have 
 known, longed to add the territories of Florence to his rap- 
 idly increasing dominions. It is more likely that these maps 
 were made before he entered Caesar's service or after he left 
 it, as a part of his geographic and hydraulic studies. 
 
 On July 23, 1503, we find Leonardo before Pisa, lending 
 his advice to the Florentines in the conduct of the siege. 
 Perhaps he had already left the service of the Borgia at that 
 time. If so, there is no record of his discharge. It is more 
 likely that, urged by his city, worn out by a siege which had 
 been vainly pressed for years, he had obtained a furlough, to 
 give the Signory the benefit of his advice. However val- 
 uable his counsel may have been, it was not conclusive, for 
 the siege dragged its slow length along until 1509. 
 
 On August 18, 1503, Caesar's father. Pope Alexander VI, 
 died of the poison that he had prepared , for one of his 
 wealthy cardinals, as is generally believed, and Caesar him- 
 
48 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 self lay low of the same malady. Then the whole world 
 revolted against the monster; the dominion which he had 
 built up with so much blood and crime crumbled to pieces 
 as he lay helpless upon his sick-bed, and Leonardo was free 
 again. He went back to Florence, had himself inscribed in 
 its guild of painters, and entered upon what was to be one 
 of the most fruitful periods of his artistic career. 
 
 Here he took up his abode with the Sculptor Francesco 
 Rustici, who was then engaged on his statue of 5"^. John 
 the Baptist preaching between the Pharisee and the Levite, 
 which now adorns the Baptistry. Vasari says that Leo- 
 nardo assisted him, and no doubt he did, at least with advice ; 
 for the work is so far in advance of Rustici's other produc- 
 tions as to suggest the influence of a higher artistic per- 
 sonality. 
 
 The great hall of council in the Palazzo Vecchio had 
 been reconstructed, and Piero Soderini, the Gonfalonier of 
 Justice and head of the government, conceived the idea of 
 having it adorned by the hands of Leonardo and Michel- 
 angelo. The younger man chose for his subject the Flor- 
 jentine soldiers surprised while bathing in the Arno during 
 the Pisan war, while Leonardo chose the Battle of Anghiari, 
 in which the famous condottiere Picinnino was overthrown 
 by the Florentines. 
 
 Both artists made cartoons which were the world's won- 
 der and the art school of their contemporaries, and both 
 cartoons have perished.J) Of Leonardo's we have only a 
 copy of the central portion; the fight for the standard to 
 which the picture owes its popular name. 
 
 Leonardo has described war as " a most bestial frenzy," 
 and none has represented it with such intensity. The fury 
 of the human beast ravening for his fellow's blood has never 
 been depicted with such frightful power. Those few men 
 on horseback struggling for the possession of the flag reveal 
 in their countenances every possibility of rage and hate. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 49 
 
 Even the horses are inspired with an equal ferocity, tearing 
 one another with their teeth. 
 
 Unhappily, about this time Leonardo read in Pliny of the 
 method of encaustic painting practised by the ancients, and 
 resolved to adopt it. He painted this episode of the stand- , 
 ard upon the walls according to his understanding of Pliny, 
 and tried to harden it by fire. The lower part hardened, 
 but the upper portion, which was beyond the reach of the 
 heat, ran, and Leonardo abandoned the work in disgust. 
 Whether it perished by inherent defects or was destroyed 
 by the returning Medici to make way for pictures glorify- 
 ing their house, we do not know. The last heard of it was 
 on April 13, 1513, when the council ordered the erection 
 of a balustrade to protect it. 
 
 This was the first successful battle-piece of modern times, 
 with no trace of the aimless confusion of Paolo Uccelli, nor 
 of Piero della Francesca's coldness. Indeed, had it been 
 completed, it is probable that it would have stood as high 
 above all other battle-pieces as the Last Supper stands above 
 all other representations of that scene. 
 
 By the terms of his contract the work was to be com- 
 pleted by February, 1505, and Leonardo was to receive in 
 the meantime 15 florins, equal to one hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars, per month. There was also in the contract a pro- 
 vision that if the picture was not finished by that time, 
 Leonardo should return all the money, and give up the car- 
 toon. Evidently, Soderini knew his man, his disposition 
 to procrastinate and finally to lose interest in his artistic 
 undertakings. 
 
 On January 25, 1504, Leonardo was one of the commis- 
 sion, composed of all the leading artists of Florence, to lo- 
 cate the David of Michelangelo. Considering the treatment 
 that he had received at the hands of the sculptor, he might 
 have been excused if he had selected an undesirable loca- 
 tion; but, with his usual generosity, he voted for the most 
 
50 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 honorable and best of all, under the central arch of the 
 Loggia dei Lanzi, then called the Loggia of Orcagna, where 
 it would be seen of all men and yet protected from the 
 weather. 
 
 Meanwhile Leonardo lost his father, a fact which he notes 
 in the laconic words, " Wednesday, July 9, 1504, at seven 
 o'clock, died Ser Piero da Vinci." Unfeeling as this entry 
 must appear, it does not indicate any want of affection ; for 
 Leonardo, the most kind-hearted of men, never, as we have 
 seen, expresses his feelings in any of his manuscripts. 
 
 At some unknown date he also lost his mother. Entries 
 show visits to the hospital to see " Catarina," and expendi- 
 tures for " Catarina's " funeral. Strange as the designa- 
 tion is, there is little doubt that it is to the worthy peasant 
 woman who bore him that he refers. We are glad to know 
 that he was with her in her last hours, and gave her suitable 
 burial. It is a pity that his excessive reticence has afforded 
 us no clue to his feelings in these solemn moments. 
 
 His father made no provision for Leonardo; and his 
 brothers and sisters excluded him from the inheritance on 
 account of his illegitimate birth. Shortly afterward his 
 uncle Francesco died, leaving him by will a small estate; 
 and at once the brothers and sisters started a suit to deprive 
 him of its benefits. The law's delays were then as much of 
 a vexation as in Hamlet's time. This unjust lawsuit 
 dragged on from year to year, and was to Leonardo a 
 source of infinite vexation. We hear of it as late as 151 1. 
 When it was settled and how we do not know. 
 
 In 1505 Leonardo was working upon what was destined 
 to be the greatest portrait ever painted by mortal brush, the 
 Mono Lisa* As the Last Supper was the first picture in 
 the grand style, and still remains the grandest, so the Mono 
 Lisa was the first portrait which sought to penetrate beneath 
 
 * Stolen from the Louvre, Aug. 21, 1911, and not yet recovered as 
 
 we go to press. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 51 
 
 the outward lineaments and to reveal the soul within, and 
 it is still the subtlest and the most profound of all. As 
 Leonardo said of his predecessors in the art of portraiture, 
 they are like mirrors, reflecting everything and understand- 
 ing nothing. With him the features were but the means of 
 revealing the spirit's life. 
 
 Most portraits merely give us the outward semblance. 
 They may delight us, they may interest us ; but the Mona 
 Lisa enthralls us. She has all the mystery, all the un- 
 sounded depths of a real woman of rarest charm. Her in- 
 scrutable smile compels us to linger; and the longer we 
 gaze upon her the more inscrutable it becomes. It is a 
 smile that is only on the lips, while in the eyes there are 
 unsounded depths. Vainly we question her; like the 
 Sphinx her riddle eludes us still. 
 
 When we consider her origin we are let into something 
 of her secret. The wife of Francesco del Giocondo, one of 
 the foremost citizens of Florence, she was not a' good bour- 
 geois matron reared in the honest but narrow traditions of 
 her husband's home. She was a Neapolitan of the proud 
 family of the Gherardini, brought up in the passionate 
 South, on those shores where the sirens dwelt, and which 
 even in Roman days Propertius called " litora, quae fuerant 
 castis inimica puellis." As a Neapolitan aristocrat she had 
 been reared in a society which knew no moral restraint, 
 where passions were volcanic, where men dreamed of im- 
 possible loves, and where hate was a maddening frenzy. 
 Nothing justifies a belief that she was other than a faithful 
 wife; but as she looked on her honest bourgeois surround- 
 ings, so different from the atmosphere in which she had 
 spent her youth, it is not strange that a smile of subtlest 
 irony should play about her lips, that we should see reflected 
 in her eyes dreams of another and intenser life. Of what 
 she is thinking we do not know ; but we know that an im- 
 passable gulf divides her from the worthy burgesses of 
 
52 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Florence, such as the placid, bovine wife of Angelo Doni, 
 whom Raphael has painted in obvious imitation of the Mona 
 Lisa. The best description of her that was ever penned 
 is that of Walter Pater, a passage so beautiful that it cannot 
 be too often quoted: 
 
 " The presence that thus rose so strangely beside the watery, 
 is expressive of what in the ways of a thousand years man 
 had come to desire. Hers is the head upon which all ' the ends 
 of the world are come,' and the eyelids are a little weary. It 
 is a beauty wrought out from within upon the flesh, the de- 
 posit, little cell by cell, of strange thoughts and fantastic 
 reveries and exquisite passions. Set it for a moment beside 
 one of those white Greek Goddesses or beautiful women of 
 antiquity, and how would they be troubled by this' beauty into 
 which the soul with all its maladies has passed? All the 
 thoughts and experience of the world have etched and molded 
 there, in that which they have of power to refine and make 
 expressive the outward form, the animalism of Greece, the 
 lust of Rome, the reverie of the middle age with its spiritual 
 ambitions and imaginative loves, the return of the Pagan world, 
 the sins of the Borgias. She is older than the rocks among 
 which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many 
 times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a 
 diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and 
 trafficked for strange webs with Eastern merchants; and, as 
 Leda, was the mother of Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, 
 the mother of Mary ; and all this has been to her but as the 
 sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only in the delicacy with 
 which it has molded the changing lineaments, and tinged, the 
 eyelids and the hands." 
 
 Vasari says: 
 
 " Leonardo adopted this artifice : — Madonna Lisa was very 
 beautiful; and while Leonardo was painting her portrait, he 
 kept constantly near her musicians, singers and jesters, who 
 might make her laugh, and so dispel the melancholy which is 
 so easily imparted to painted portraits. In Leonardo's picture, 
 therefore, there is a smile so sweet that while looking at it, 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI S3 
 
 one thinks it rather divine than human work; and so it has 
 ever been deemed a wonderful work since it is to all appear- 
 ances alive." 
 
 It may be so, but the expression upon Mona Lisa's face 
 is not one that would be evoked by such means ,upon the 
 countenance of an ordinary woman. It speaks of a soul 
 subtle and refined beyond measure, perhaps ironical, per- 
 haps wandering in strange lands of exquisite sins and for- 
 bidden dreams. 
 
 At intervals during four years did Leonardo work upon 
 it, and then, though it was finished with a detailed perfec- 
 tion never equaled, he esteemed it incomplete. Francis I 
 bought it at a price equivalent to forty thousand dollars, a 
 sum such as had not been paid for any picture since Roman 
 days. The lamp-black which Leonardo used too freely in 
 the underpainting to enrifch the chiaroscuro has darkened it 
 overmuch. It has been injured by injudicious restoration. 
 As it has come down to us it is but the shadow of the pic- 
 ture described by Vasari ; but even as it is to-day, it is im- 
 measurably the greatest of all the portraits in the world. 
 The haunting charm of the countenance, the grace of the 
 pose and the exquisite and incomparable beauty of the 
 hands — fair patrician hands that have never been disfig- 
 ured by toil — lead those most indifierent to art to linger 
 long over this picture and to return to it again and 
 again. 
 
 At the same time Leonardo painted a portrait of Ginevra 
 Benci, which was greatly admired, but which has now been 
 lost. 
 
 It must have been at Florence that Leonardo began his 
 picture of Leda, for we have a sketch of it from Raphael's 
 hand; but it was most likely finished at Milan, possibly in 
 France. It has long since perished, but several copies en- 
 able us to say that it was a supremely beautiful work, pure 
 as a Grecian statue, with an added charm that Leonardo 
 
54 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 alone could bestow. Leda stands beside the erect form of 
 the great swan, her left arm about its neck. Its right-wing 
 passes behind her, and its outer edge follows the exquisite 
 curves of her right thigh. In the grace of its Unes and the 
 purity of its sentiment it reminds one of La Source by 
 Ingres ; but, of course, it was far more perfect. It probably 
 perished at the hands of some fanatic, to whose jaundiced 
 eye beauty was a thing impure. 
 
 Louis XII in some way became possessed of two small 
 pictures by Leonardo. In 1502 the master excuses himself 
 from painting a picture for Isabella d'Este on the ground 
 of his previous engagements with the French king, which he 
 hopes to discharge within a month. The nature of these 
 engagements we do not know. 
 
 The duchy of Milan was ruled by Charles d'Amboise as 
 governor for Louis XII. D'Amboise was a young man of 
 great intelligence and unusual cultivation. He invited Leo-, 
 nardo to come to Milan, and on May 30, 1506, the Floren- , 
 tine government gave the artist leave of absence for thirty 
 days under a penalty of 150 ducats, fifteen hundred dollars, 
 if he did not return at the end of that period to resume his 
 work upon his picture in the great hall. 
 
 At Milan Leonardo completely won the heart of the gov- 
 ernor, who conceived for him an unbounded admiration. 
 He procured for Leonardo an extension of his leave of ab- 
 sence, and when he finally concluded to let him go in De- 
 cember, he gave him a letter to the Signory of warmest 
 eulogy. But in the meantime his commendation of the 
 master to -his King bore its fruits, and before Leonardo 
 could leave, the urgent demands of Louij XII prevented his 
 departure. First Pandolfini, the Florentine ambassador at 
 the French court, wrote to express the earnest desire of the 
 French King that Leonardo should not quit his service ; and 
 then the King himself wrote, urging the same request. 
 Forced to yield to pressure from so powerful a sovereign. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 55 
 
 the Signory reluctantly abandoned all hope of seeing the 
 completion of the great battle-piece, and released the artist 
 from his engagements. In the meantime, however, Soderini 
 had written him a letter of bitter .reproach, and Leonardo, 
 with the aid of his friends, had got together all the money 
 that he had received, and tendered it back ; but- Soderini 
 generously refused to accept it. So Leonardo was still in 
 Milan when Louis XII made his entry on May 24, 1507, and 
 used the talents for arranging gorgeous pageants that he had 
 developed under Lodovico to do honor to the successor of 
 that unhappy prince. 
 
 From this time until 15 13 he lived chiefly at Milan, 
 in high favor with the regent, with the title of painter, 
 architect and engineer to the King, and engaged, aS 
 far as we can learn, chiefly on works of hydraulic engineer- 
 ing for the protection of the land and the encouragement 
 of navigation. His artistic activity during this period was 
 apparently slight; but it was most likely at this time that 
 he painted his Bacchus. Whether this is the picture now in 
 the Louvre we cannot say. 
 
 The weight of authority is against the view that that work 
 is from the hand of Leonardo, and the flesh tints and back- 
 ground are not those customary in his pictures. Still, for 
 one who was always experimenting this is no sure test, and 
 its history would point to its being his creation. It is a 
 work of supreme beauty — perhaps the most perfect em- 
 bodiment of the beauty of youthful malnhood that modern 
 times have produced. Its affinity with the .S"^. John is 
 apparent; though it is more regular and conventional in 
 type. 
 
 Again and again Leonardo was called back to Florence 
 by his wretched lawsuit, which must have cost him more 
 than the value of the trifling devise; but never again was 
 his home to be beside the Arno. 
 
 It was while in Milan at this time that Francesco Melzi 
 
56 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 entered Leonardo's studio. He was then but a boy, and, 
 like Salai, he was remarkable for his beauty and his long 
 golden hair. But, unlike Salai, he was of patrician family 
 and large wealth, and he came as a disciple, not as a servant. 
 Between the noble youth and Leonardo there grew up a de- 
 voted friendship, and they seem never to have been parted 
 save by the master's death. Leonardo spent much time as 
 an honored guest in the Melzi Villa at Vaprio, and in all 
 of Leonardo's wanderings Melzi was at his side, watching 
 for his comfort with tender solicitude. Few sons have 
 been more beloved by their fathers, or have deserved it 
 more. 
 
 In 1511 Leonardo lost by death his generous patron, 
 Charles d'Amboise, and on Easter day, 1512, the French 
 champion, ■ the youthful hero Gaston de Foix, the spoiled 
 child of Victory, was slain at the battle of Ravenna. The 
 French were expelled from Milan, and for a short time 
 Maximilian, oldest son of Lodovico, sat upon his father's 
 throne. Leonardo still lingered in the city, probably not in 
 favor with the new duke, who must have resented his serv- 
 ices to France ; for when Leo X was elected Pope on March 
 II, 1513, the master contemplated seeking his fortune at 
 the papal court. Accordingly, on September 14, he set 
 out for Rome, accompanied by Melzi and Salai and three 
 other disciples. ^ 
 
 At Florence he attached himself to Giuliano de' Medici, 
 the pope's youngest brother, who conceived for him the 
 greatest admiration, and granted him a monthly pension 
 of 33 ducats, the equivalent of three hundred and thirty 
 dollars, then considered a munificent salary for an artist or 
 a man of science. It was apparently in the latter capacity 
 that Giuliano most esteemed him, for he delighted in Leo- 
 nardo's conversation, and exacted of him no artistic labors 
 that we know. 
 
 Rome was then the center of the world's culture. Leo 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 57 
 
 was a munificent pVtron of the arts and of literature, gath- 
 ering about him scholars and artists from every quarter. 
 Papal Rome was never so delightful a place of sojourn as in 
 those happy days when the keys of St. Peter's were in his 
 lenient hand. Raphael, one of Leonardo's most devoted 
 admirers, was Leo's favorite artist. Michelangelo, Leo- 
 nardo's old enemy, had fallen from the high favor which he 
 had enjoyed under Julius II ; and while he still remained in 
 Rome, he was powerless for harm. Bramante, Giuliano d^ 
 San Gallo, II Sodoma and other artists were also at the 
 papal court, forming such a galaxy of genius as has rarely 
 been assembled. The Pope received Leonardo with the 
 greatest favor, and gave him apartments in the recently 
 erected Belvedere, the choicest part of the Vatican and a 
 shrine of art. Leonardo spent much time with Leo, who 
 delighted in his conversation. 
 
 Under such favorable conditions one would expect great 
 things of the master ; but his stay in Rome is the most un- 
 satisfactory part of his career. He seems to have done 
 nothing in art except to paint for officers of the papal 
 court two little pictures that have disappeared. Leo or- 
 dered a picture of him, but when he found that Leonardo 
 had begun by distilling oils for the varnish, he gave up 
 hope, exclaiming, "This man, who thinks of the end be- 
 fore he has made a beginning, will surely never do any- 
 thing"; and so it proved. The Madonna of St. Onofrio, 
 formerly supposed to have been painted at this time, is 
 certainly by another hand. 
 
 Meantime, Leonardo was amusing himself and his friends 
 with mere trifles. He took a strange lizard that a vine- 
 dresser brought him, attached to it wings that he made to 
 oscillate by quicksilver, put upon it horns, a beard and false 
 eyes, and kept it in a cage to astonish visitors. So, he took 
 the entrails of a sheep, and blew them up with bellows till 
 they filled the whole room, driving his friends into corners ; 
 
58 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 and this he called a fit emblem for genius ; why, is not ap- 
 parent. But the most disheartening feature of his Roman 
 sojourn is his letters written to Giuliano de' Medici about 
 two Germans, a locksmith and a mirror-maker, who were 
 in Giuliano's employ. The letters are incoherent com- 
 plaints of trivial occurrences, and are filled with accusa- 
 tions of their trying to learn his secrets which sound like the 
 production of a querulous old woman. We know that a few 
 years afterwards Leonardo's right arm was paralyzed, 
 though we know not when the blow fell. These letters 
 sound as if he might then have been suffering with the 
 nervous disorder that later manifested itself in paralysis. 
 It must be borne in mind, however, that Leonardo's fashion 
 of writing from right to left indicates that he always had 
 / a morbid fear lest his secrets should become known to 
 
 /^ others. 
 
 M We do not know when Leonardo quitted Rome. His de- 
 parture was induced by loss of papal favor due to his dis- 
 secting dead bodies, a practice then forbidden by the church. 
 We find him bacTc in Milan on December 9, 1514, where 
 Lodovico's son was still upon the throne. What led him 
 thither at that time does not appear. We know, however, 
 that he never again turned his face southward, and that 
 Florence saw him no more. On September 13 and 14, 1515, 
 Francis the First, the brilliant young king of France, won 
 his great victory at Marignano, and Milan again fell under 
 French dominion. He made his triumphal entry on Oc- 
 tober 16, and Leonardo was there to receive him. At 
 Pavia Leonardo delighted the monarch and his court by 
 making a lion that walked toward the throne, and whose 
 breast opened when he stopped, showing that it was filled 
 with the lilies of France. 
 
 When in December, 1515, Francis returned to France, he 
 persuaded Leonardo to go with him; and in the depth of 
 winter the aged master crossed the Alps, leaving behind him 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 59 
 
 the sunny land of Italy, which he was never to see again. 
 He was attended by his devoted disciple, Melzi, still merely 
 a youth of twenty-two, and by a faithful servant, Batista de 
 Vilanis; but Salai remained behind in Leonardo's vine- 
 yard. 
 
 Francis delighted greatly in the conversation of Leo- 
 nardo. In later years he told Benvenuto Cellini that no man 
 knew so much. He established the master in the manor 
 house of Cloux between the castle of Aniboise, which was 
 his own favorite abode, and the town of that name. It was 
 a commodious dwelling composed of eight large rooms. It 
 is still standing, tastefully restored and called Clos-Luce. 
 Leonardo received an annual pension of 700 gold crowns, 
 equal to seven thousand dollars, a large income for those 
 days. Antonio di Beatis of Amalfi gives us an interesting 
 picture of Leonardo as he then appeared. He writes: 
 
 " We visited Messer Leonardo Vinci of Florence, a gray- 
 beard of more than seventy years, the most eminent painter of 
 our time, who showed to his Eminence the Cardinal three 
 pictures. One represents a Florentine lady, painted from life, 
 for the late Lord Juliano de' Medici ; the second is a youthful 
 John the Baptist;, and the third, a Madonna with the Child 
 sitting on the lap of Saint Anna; all of the highest perfection. 
 One cannot indeed expect anything more of special merit from 
 his brush, as his right hand is crippled by paralysis. But he 
 has a pupil, a Milanese, who works very well: and although 
 Messer Leonardo can no longer paint with the beauty that 
 was peculiar to him, he can still draw and instruct others." 
 
 At this time, when he seemed to his visitor to be over 
 seventy, Leonardo was in fact but sixty-four. The only au- 
 thentic likeness that we have of him, the drawing in red 
 chalk at Turin, tells the same story. Leonardo was pre- 
 maturely old. This is very strange. The wonderful 
 strength of his youth promised a long life. His way of liv- 
 ing was wholesome and abstemious. His constant study of 
 
6o THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 nature, his ownership of fine horses, his frequent excursions 
 to the Alps and long sojourns in the region of the Italian 
 Lakes, his numerous journeys, assure us that he spent a 
 large part of his time in the open air, and did not lack for 
 exercise. He was a hard worker, but the busy knitters of 
 the brain are usually rewarded for their labors by length of 
 days. The thing that most frequently ages men is worry; 
 but his calm and philosophic mind was apparently above 
 that. Certainly his writings show no traces of worry save 
 complaints of delay in payment of moneys due. Though he 
 was not always paid promptly, his pecuniary condition was 
 far more advantageous than is customary with artists. He 
 never felt the pinch of want, and usually his circumstances 
 were prosperous. His premature old age is therefore inex- 
 plicable. 
 
 His portrait, too, is equally surprising. It is the face of 
 a man soured and embittered, who gazes upon the world 
 with keen, searching eyes that have read the hearts of men, 
 and found them wanting. He who had looked into the 
 deepest mysteries of the human soul, to whom Nature had 
 opened her bosom without reserve, bears upon his counte- 
 nance an expression of contempt not free from irritation. 
 If we did not know that the face is Leonardo's and drawn 
 by his own hand, we should reject it as an impossible pre- 
 sentment of the serene and mighty sage. 
 
 Nothing in his writings after he left Rome bears out the 
 message which his likeness conveys. As his handwriting 
 underwent no change, we cannot, as has been stated, tell 
 which of his papers were written in youth and which in age, 
 save for an occasional date or reference to passing events; 
 but they all, except his querulous complaints to Giuliano de' 
 Medici, show a calm and philosophic spirit. We know that 
 the kindness of his disposition remained unaltered to the 
 end. In his will he not only made generous provision for 
 his faithful servants, but he left all his Florentine property, 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 6i 
 
 including the 400 florins, equal to four thousand dollars, 
 that he had on deposit at Santa Maria Nuova, to his brothers 
 and sisters, whose injustice and greed had embittered his 
 declining years. We read of nothing on his part save wis- 
 dom and loving kindness. Whence then came the bitterness 
 that is written in his face? 
 
 Strange to say, the last of Leonardo's works, the St. 
 John the Baptist, is that which most strongly breathes the 
 spirit of youth. It reminds one of Marlowe's "Hero and 
 Leander," of Shakespeare's " Venus and Adonis." If we did 
 not know better, we should be sure that it was the work 
 of a very young man in the first flush of passion and in the 
 full tide of buoyant life. Despite its Christian tij:le, the 
 cross and the upward pointing finger, it is the most pro- 
 foundly pagan picture that was ever painted ; so pagan that 
 few can look upon it without a certain sense of disquietude. 
 It is no saint, but a naked faun emerging from the sedgy 
 brake with a smile upon his lovely lips. In the luscious soft- 
 ness of his flesh he is the brother of those androgynous 
 beings in which the later art of Greece and Rome delighted, 
 where the sculptor strove to unite all the charms of man 
 and woman in a single body. But Leonardo goes far 
 deeper. He shows us a soul that is neither masculine nor 
 feminine, but strangely both. In its style of painting it 
 anticipates Rembrandt by a hundred and fifty years. This 
 form emerges from a background of luminous shadows 
 that envelop and caress it, just as do Rembrandt's por- 
 traits. We know that Rembrandt never saw it, but 
 wrought out his style with no help from the Italian 
 Wizard. 
 
 Leonardo seems to have spent his time while in France 
 mostly in works of hydraulic engineering, introducing the 
 system of canal-locks then in use in Italy, but unknown be- 
 yond the Alps. Up to his final sickness he was still busy in 
 noting down his scientific observations. As a teacher of 
 
62 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 art he came too soon. There were no French artists capa- 
 ble of benefiting by his instruction. 
 
 Here in his manor house of Cloux he passed away on the 
 2nd of May, 15 19. Before his death he received the last 
 sacraments, and died in communion with the Church, with 
 which, indeed, he had never had any dispute. In his will, 
 prepared a week before his death, he commends his soul " to 
 Our Lord God and Saviour, the Glorious Virgin Mary, to 
 St. Michael and to all the blessed Angels and Saints' in 
 Paradise." This may have been a meaningless formula 
 inserted by the worthy notary, who drew the will, Maitre 
 Bureau, whose descendants continued to carry on his office 
 until 1885. He provides that his body shall be interred 
 in the church of St. Florentin 'at Amboise. Perhaps the 
 name reminded him of his home by the Arno. He made 
 generous provision for Salai, Batista de Vilanis and his 
 maidservant, Mathurine; to his beloved Melzi he left 
 his books and manuscripts, his portraits, the implements of 
 his craft, and the arrears of his pension. He left moneys 
 for masses for his soul's repose, perhaps in sincere belief, 
 perhaps as a politic concession to the all-powerful church. 
 More probably, however, Leonardo in his declining years 
 returned to the faith of his childhood, like so many aged 
 men when brought face to face with the supreme mystery. 
 
 Vasari tells an affecting story of how Leonardo died in 
 the arms of Francis I, and this was universally believed 
 until recent years. We now know, however, that it is proved 
 by the court records that -on the day of Leonardo's death 
 the King was at St. Germain-en-Laye near Paris. More- 
 over, in the noble letter which Melzi wrote to the unworthy 
 brothers of his beloved master, telling them of the circum- 
 stances of his death and of the provision that he had made 
 for them, there is no mention of the King. Had such an 
 honor been conferred upon the man he loved so much, 
 Melzi would not have failed to mention it with pride. 
 
LEONARDO DA VINCI 63 
 
 Leonardo's tomb was destroyed, and the place of his 
 burial forgotten. In 1808 the church of St. Florentin was 
 razed to the ground after being repeatedly desecrated. In 
 the middle of the nineteenth century, Arsene Houssaye, 
 guided by the terms of Leonardo's will, dug on the site of 
 the church to find his grave. He discovered some frag- 
 ments of stone on which were the letters, " Leo — inc — dus 
 — Vine." Beside them was a skeleton ; and this he piously 
 laid, to r£st in the chapel of Amboise Castle. Unhappily 
 the record of Leonardo's interment shows that he was 
 buried in the cloister, not in the church ; so that the tomb 
 over which we are now called to mourn can scarcely be 
 that of the supreme genius whom Michelet calls " the Faust 
 of the Renaissance." 
 
 A word in conclusion about the authenticity of Leo- 
 nardo's works. Some years ago,' when the destructive 
 school of criticism was in possession of the field, it looked 
 as if Leonardo would be reduced to a myth. Morelli began 
 the assault by assigning to Ambrogio de Predis many of 
 the loveliest creations that had been attributed to Leo- 
 nardo's brush. He did not realize how strange it was that 
 there should be another man of Leonardo's time who could 
 draw and paint with all his charm and skill, how much 
 stranger still that a master so consummate should have re- 
 mained in obscurity. Now the pendulum is swinging the 
 other way, and experts are attributing to Leonardo works 
 that perhaps he never saw. The disposition, however, is to 
 assign to him new things that were never before mentioned 
 in connection with his name rather than to give him back 
 the works that tradftion attributes to his brush. Under the 
 circumstances it seems safer to leave to the Master the pic- 
 tures that men have believed to be by his hand unless the 
 inferiority or diversity of their workmanship clearly reveals 
 an humbler origin. 
 
RAPHAEL 
 
 1483-1520 
 
 I 
 
 UMBRIA AND FLORENCE 
 
 Raphael, who was born to effect the great reconciliation, 
 to wed classic perfection of form to Christian purity of 
 soul, and so to create our modern standardof beauty, was 
 throughout life the favored child of fortune. Singularly ca- 
 pable of learning from others, a bee that sipped the richest 
 honey from every flower he passed, he met at each stage 
 of his career the influence needed for his development. 
 Bom with the face of an angel and with a charm of manner 
 that won every heart, he went smiling through life, and all 
 rejoiced to assist him on the upward path. In that blessed 
 age of the Renaissance genius never failed of recognition, 
 was never suffered to perish in poverty and neglect, as so 
 often in other periods ; but of all the artists of the time none 
 was so fortunate as Raphael. 
 
 When one looks at his beautiful face, perhaps the most 
 delicate and refined that has come down to us, one thinks 
 that surely this must be the last exquisite flower of an 
 ancient line. His family was, however, of humble origin. 
 We can trace it back only to 1446, thirty-seven years before 
 Raphael's birth. Then a peasant named Peruzzolo Santi, 
 the great-grandfather of the painter, dwelt in a little rude 
 hamlet called Colbordolo, clinging to a bare mountain side 
 on the eastern slopes of the Apennines, under the shelter 
 of a fortress, traces of which yet appear. - Peruzzolo was a 
 merchant in a small way, trading in the scant produce of that 
 
 64 
 
RAPHAEL 6s 
 
 rocky soil. He was sufficiently prosperous to own his own 
 home, no doubt humble enough. In that year Sigismondo 
 Malatesta, who would have been entitled to the name of the 
 Fiend of the Renaissance if Caesar Borgia had not come 
 along to rob him of it, swept over the mountains in one of 
 his forays, and burned most of the wretched huts. That of 
 Peruzzolo was left standing, but the desolation of the coun- 
 try and the fear of a repetition of the raid disgusted him 
 with his mountain home, and in 1450 he removed to Urbino 
 and became a merchant. Here the family prospered. In 
 1464 Raphael's grandfather bought a double house in the 
 Confrada del Monte, now called the Contrada Raffaello, a 
 steep, ill-paved, crooked street leading upward from the 
 market-place. This house still exists ; a double house three 
 stories in height, of the plainest character, an undistin- 
 guished part of a solid block of similar houses. It passed 
 to Raphael's father, and here Raphael was born. It has 
 now been set apart as a memorial of the great master, and is 
 kept with pious care. 
 
 The date of Raphael's birth is uncertain. In the epitaph 
 that Bembo placed upon his tomb it is stated that he died on 
 his thirty-seventh birthday. If so, he was born on April 
 6, 1483. Vasari, however, says that he was born on Good 
 Friday. If so, it was March 28. Bembo, his intimate 
 friend, who had no doubt sat with him at many a birthday 
 feast, is more likely to be right. At any rate, his father 
 conceived great hopes of his future, for he gave the child 
 the name of one of the archangels. Perhaps already he had 
 the face of an angel. 
 
 Urbino was not , then the neglected provincial town of 
 some five thousand inhabitants that it is to-day. The city 
 belonged to the counts of Montefeltro. Federigo of Monte- 
 feltro had in 1474 married his daughter to Giovanni della 
 Rovere, nephew to Pope Sixtus IV, and had thus been 
 / / made Duke of Urbino. He was a remarkable man. A 
 
^6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 great soldier, he won power and wealth as a leader of 
 mercenaries, whom he hired out to. fight the battles of the 
 neighboring princes, after the evil fashion of the day. He 
 was not a brutal condottiere, like many of his opponents, but 
 an accomplished gentleman, skilled alike in the arts of peace 
 and war, so that the noblest youth of Italy sought service 
 under his banner. At Urbino he held his court in the ^ 
 stately palace that he built, and here he gathered round him 
 scholars, poets and artists, with whom, in his leisure hours, 
 he delighted to converse. He was one of the first to ap- \/ 
 preciate the beauty of oil painting, which had just been dis- 
 covered in Flanders; and he imported Justus of Ghent to 
 introduce the new art into his dominions. Piero della Fran- 
 cesca painted him and his good wife Battista, and we may 
 still see their honest plain faces in the Uffizi at Florence, 
 standing out against wonderful landscapes that anticipate the 
 work of the modern plein-airistes. He was so beloved by 
 his people that wherever he went they gathered in crowds, 
 invoking blessings on his head and praying for him length 
 of days. 
 
 The good Duke died in 1482, the year before Raphael's 
 birth ; but he was succeeded by his son Guidobaldo, a man of 
 less force and energy, but perhaps as enlightened as his 
 father. He had in 1489 taken for his wife Elizabetta Gon- 
 zaga, of Mantua, one of the loveliest women of the Renais- 
 sance, in whom the varied culture of the time was com- 
 bined with spotless virtue and great kindness. Guidobaldo, 
 who was made commander of the papal forces by Julius II 
 in consideration of his naming as his successor Francesco 
 Maria della Rovere, the, nephew both of Julius and himself, 
 was absent a great part of the time, and when at home he 
 was compelled by failing health to live much in seclusion. 
 In the meantime his Duchess held the court, assembling 
 around her the brightest spirits of the age, so that Urbino 
 
RAPHAEL 67 
 
 became the seat of every gentle art, the school where the 
 perfect gentleman and lady were to be formed. The charms 
 of social intercourse there have perhaps never been sur- 
 passed. Fortunately Baldassare Castiglione has preserved 
 the picture of it for all time in his book, the " Cortegiano," 
 which still remains the mirror of the perfect gentleman. 
 The author tells us that the Palace of Urbino was then the 
 most splendid in Italy, and the most richly adorned with 
 books, statues and pictures. 
 
 Among the artists that rejoiced in Federigo's favor was 
 Giovanni Santi, the father of Raphael. How he became 
 an artist and under whom he studied we do not know. 
 But for his immortal son he would be remembered only by 
 a few specialists. His talents were not sufficiently great 
 to give him a place of honor in so rich an age. Still, he 
 was a worthy painter, who did good work. His pictures V 
 are executed with care and patience. Their coloring is ^ 
 good. They have in them the purity and sweetness of ^y 
 Umbria. Moreover, Giovanni was a poet. He wrote a 
 long poem on the exploits of Duke Federigo in the difficult 
 terza rima that makes the translation of Dante so impossi- 
 ble. It is not a great poem. It lacks inspiration; but it 
 shows the scholarly tastes of its author. Probably Raphael 
 could not have had a better father. He was a good crafts- 
 man, and in his home the child grevv up in the contemplation 
 of lovely things and in the artistic atmosphere so essential 
 to the development of genius. 
 
 Of Raphael's mother we only know that her name was 
 Magia Ciarla. She had two children before Raphael, but 
 they died in childhood. When Raphael came, his mother 
 nursed^iim herself, not sending him out to be nursed in the 
 family of a peasant, as was the universal custom of the 
 time. In the family home at Urbino is a fading fresco of 
 a Madonna and Child by Giovanni, which tradition says is 
 
68 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 a portrait of Magia and the infant Raphael. It has more 
 individuality than most of Giovanni's work, and looks as if 
 it might be a true likeness. 
 
 The year 1491 was a sad one for Giovanni. On October 
 3rd he lost his mother. On the 7th his good wife passed 
 away, and his only daughter followed her in a few days. 
 But he was not a man to live alone. Seven months after 
 Magia's death he married Bernardina Parte, the daughter of 
 a goldsmith of the town. She brought him a dowry of 200 
 ducats, but perhaps little happiness, for her disposition 
 seems to have been difficult. 
 
 Giovanni died on August i, 1494, leaving an estate valued 
 at 860 florins, then a substantial fortune, and a will in 
 which he provided for his wife and daughters, and be- 
 queathed the bulk of his fortune to be divided between his 
 brother, Don Bartolommeo, a priest, and Raphael. He named 
 Don Bartolommeo as executor and as Raphael's guard- 
 ian. The choice was not a happy one. Don Bartolommeo 
 proved to be an avaricious knave. He would not give the 
 widow, who had borne a daughter after Giovanni's death, 
 a florin of her allowance. She on her part would not re- 
 main in her husband's house, but returned to her mother's 
 home. Litigation ensued, but Don Bartolommeo fought the 
 matter through the courts, so that it was not until 1499 
 that Bernardina received the first installment of her dower. 
 There is nothing to indicate any affection between Raphael 
 and his stepmother; but the letters which Raphael after- 
 wards wrote to his maternal uncle, Simone di Battista Ciarla, 
 prove that a warm attachment existed between them, and 
 ^ that Simone- probably took the orphan into his own home, 
 ^ and befarfTe to him a second father. 
 
 What became of Raphael during the ten years that fol- 
 lowed Giovanni's death we do not know. Vasari tells us 
 that Giovanni took him from the arms of his weeping 
 mother, and put him under Perugino as the foremost painter 
 
RAPHAEL 69 
 
 of the time. But as the mother, died when Raphael was but 
 eight, this cannot be true. Moreover, from 1493 to 1499 
 Perugino was almost constantly absent from Perugia, work- 
 ing in different cities, and in his wandering life he could not 
 have accepted the custody of a child of tender years. Be- 
 sides, the will of Giovanni Santi, made two days before his 
 death, proves that Raphael was then in Urbino. 
 
 Two divergent views are held with equal pertinacity by 
 critics of equal authority. According to Crowe and Caval- 
 caselle and many others, Raphael went to Perugia in the 
 fall of 149s, a year after his father's death, and received 
 all his early training in Perugino's workshop. They see in 
 the numerous pictures painted before 1504 only Perugino's 
 influence. If so, the boy saw terrible sights. In Perugia 
 there were two great houses ever struggling for the mastery, 
 the Baglioni and the Oddi. Their contests were marked by a 
 ferocity that was horrifying even in that remorseless age. 
 Finally the Baglioni got the upper hand, and the Oddi were 
 expelled. On the 4th of September of that year they made 
 their last desperate attempt to recover their position. They 
 burst into the city; but the Baglioni were aroused in time, 
 and a frightful massacre of the Oddi and their partisans 
 ensued. Perugia's narrow streets ran red with blood. The 
 Baglioni reigned in peace, with Guido at their head. They 
 were a lot of fierce beasts of prey, remarkable for their 
 courage and their personal beauty, and he ruled them be- 
 cause he was the strongest. Around him were five sons 
 worthy of such a father, Astorre, Morgante, Gismondo, 
 Marc Antonio and Gentile. He shared the authority with 
 his brother Ridolfo and with Troilo, Giovan-Paulo and 
 Simonetto, the sons of the latter. But he had a nephew, 
 Grifone, who aspired to the sovereignty. Grifone gathered 
 around him a band as reckless and as lawless as himself, 
 and on the night of Astorre's, marriage, profiting by the 
 freedom of access that his near relationship afforded, he 
 
70 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 slew Guido and most of his family in their beds. Astorre, 
 who was a Hector in strength and beauty, was slain while 
 his bride strove to shield him with her beautiful body. The 
 corpses were stripped and exposed in the market-place, 
 where Astorre lay, in the words of Matarazzo, " as an old 
 Roman in his blood " and Simonetto " scornful and proud in 
 death as in life." But Grifone's triumph was short lived. 
 His wife and mother fled to a country-house, and though, 
 overwhelmed with remorse, he implored their pardon, they 
 refused to see him. Meanwhile Giovan-Paulo, who had es- 
 caped in the darkness, fled to Citta di Castello, and returning 
 with 800 men, and forcing the gate of the Due Porte, he en- 
 tered the city. As, clad in steel, he rode upon his galloping 
 war-horse, he looked, Matarazzo tells us, like an avenging 
 St. George. Grifone was cut down, and all the members 
 of his conspiracy were slain, so that again the streets of 
 the city ran with blood. Then Grifone's wife and mother 
 entered the town, and finding him bleeding from many 
 wounds, his mother, the noble Atalanta, begged him to for- 
 give his enemies. He breathed the words of pardon, 
 pressed her hand, and passed away. His death was to be 
 the occasion of one of Raphael's masterpieces. 
 
 Morelli and his partisans on the other hand contend that 
 Raphael remained in Urbino until the year 1500, and that 
 his first master was Timoteo Viti, a pupil of Francia's. 
 They see in Raphael's, early pictures no trace of Perugino's 
 influence, and deem them a clear reflection of Timoteo's 
 style. If they are correct, Raphael was in Urbino in 1497 
 when the murderous hordes of Caesar Borgia seized the 
 city, driving the good Duke and Duchess into exile, and 
 ruling it in Caesar's remorseless fashion. In any event, the 
 boy, so full of love for all beautiful things, must often have 
 climbed up the steep street in which was his father's home 
 to the hill where stands the old fortress, and- felt his soul 
 expand into the infinite as his eye wandered over the far- 
 
RAPHAEL 71 
 
 reaching prospect from the blue Adriatic in the distant ' 
 east to the grand mountains that towered, bare and majestic 
 in their desolate grandeur, to the west. Here he breathed 
 in that love for spacious distances that Perugia was yet to 
 strengthen. 
 
 All that we really know of those early days is that Raphael 
 was in Urbino in 1499, when he joined in a settlement be- 
 tween his stepmother and Don Bartolommeo, and that he 
 was absent in 1500 when the settlement of that year was 
 made. If, as seems probable, he remained in -Urbino until 
 then, it would have been natural to place him with Viti, the 
 best artist then in the little city. 
 
 There are at Citta di Castello two pictures by Raphael, 
 the Creation of Eve and the Crucifixion, which are believed 
 to have been painted in 1499, when he was sixteen years 
 of age; but their condition is so deplorable that little can 
 be said of them. On the other hand, the Vision of a Knight 
 in the National Gallery, believed to have been painted in 
 1500, when Raphael was seventeen, is as perfect as on the 
 day when it left his easel, a wonderful picture for a 
 boy. Everyone knows the form of the sleeping knight to 
 whom a beautiful maiden offers a flower as she invites him 
 to follow with her the primrose path of dalliance, while 
 on the other side a maiden not less fair but of severer as- 
 pect offers him a sword and book, bidding him pursue the 
 hard road that leads to knowledge and power. The figures 
 have already the poetic grace of Umbria, while the spacious 
 background that stretches away to the distant mountains 
 is full of charm. It is doubtful whether any other picture 
 of equal merit was ever produced by one so young. 
 
 About the same time Raphael is supposed to have painted 
 the St. Michael smiting the Dragon in the Louvre, and the 
 exquisite St. George in the same gallery. All of these pic-;^,. 
 tures are very small' and finished with minutest care — 
 gems of Umbrian grace ; and in all the landscape is delight- 
 
72 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 ful, full of tBat suggestion of the infinite that comes to 
 the dullest heart when one gazes from an Umbrian hill- 
 top over the echanted panorama unrolled before one's eyes. 
 It must be noted, however, that M. Miintz, one of the great- 
 est authorities on the subject, believes that these little gems 
 were not painted until 1504. 
 
 Raphael began early that series of Madonnas that in 
 popular estimation are his greatest works, pictures in which 
 woman's beauty and the charms of motherhood have re- 
 ceived their supreme apotheosis. Of course, his early es- 
 says in this field have not the perfection of the Madonna 
 della Sedia nor the superhuman glory of the Madonna di 
 San Sisto; but it is marvelous how a youth who had never 
 known a father's joys and who had known a mother's love 
 only in childhood grasped at once the essence of the sweet- 
 est, the closest and the tenderest of human ties. Even 
 in the Conestabile Madonna at St. Petersburg, painted prob- 
 ably when he was but eighteen, there is a sweetness and a 
 beauty and, above all, a comprehension of a mother's love, 
 that few artists attain in their fullest maturity. 
 
 Once his true path was found, Raphael moved rapidly 
 jipon it. There followed speedily the Madonna with St. 
 ' Jerome and St. Francis, the Diatolevi Madonna and the 
 , Solly Madonna, at Berlin, none of them perfect, but all re- 
 markable for a youth under twenty to have painted. 
 
 In these pictures many can see no trace of Perugino; 
 but it is certain that at one time Raphael was a pupil of 
 the Perugian master and that for a while he dwelt in that 
 city. Those who favor the Timoteo iViti theory admit that 
 Raphael came to Perugia probably in 1499 or 1500, when 
 Perugino was painting the Cambio. Nor is it reasonable 
 to doubt that Raphael had a hand in that exquisite work, 
 where the heroes and sages of antiquity stand with the 
 dainty grace and pensive melancholy of Umbria and with 
 no suggestion of the serene power; of thf aDcietlt world. In 
 
RAPHAEL 73 
 
 many of the faces there is a charming oval wholly (iifferent'' 
 from the broad, round contours of Perugino, and which 
 speaks of Raphael's influence. It may seem strange that 
 Raphael should have had so important a part in Perugino's 
 masterpieces, if he was a youth just arrived in the studio; 
 but his manners were so winning and his talents so greit 
 that it is not surprising that Perugino, like everyone else, 
 should have let him have his way. 
 
 If Raphael came to Perugia in 1499 or ^Soo. ^e found 
 the two greatest of Umbrian masters working together as 
 partners, Perugino receiving two-thirds of the profits, and 
 P inturicc hio, a younger and less distinguished man, the 
 o'ther third. They were the two masters whom he needed 
 at the time. Had he gone straight to Florence he would 
 never have passed through that period of Umbrian sweet- 
 ness^and mystic love that forms one of his most exquisite 
 qualities. 
 
 Perugino had fewer ideas than any capable painter that 
 we know. He was so poor in invention that when he had 
 painted a satisfactory figure he would transfer it unaltered 
 to successive pictures. The great movement of the Renais- 
 sance — the rediscovery of antiquity — interested him not 
 at all. He spent his time among artists and scholars fired 
 with enthusiasm for " the glory that was Greece and the 
 grandeur that was Rome " ; but they left him cold. His 
 soul dwelt in the Middle Ages, and cared nothing for the 
 new light. But he was a great artist. He excelled all 
 his colleagues in the expression of simple devotion. He 
 never crowded his compositions. His color is good,' his 
 handling of the brush, when good at all, is exquisite. He 
 was a strong, practical man, who made his art pay and who 
 accumulated a large fortune. 
 
 . Pinturicchio, " the little painter," owed his name to his 
 small size and his nervous excitability. He was also called 
 Sordicchio for his deafness. As an artist he was far in- 
 
74 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 ferior to Perugino; but he had conspicuous merits. He 
 was, perhaps, the most picturesque of all painters. His 
 works have great charm. His slender forms possess a 
 dainty grace. While Perugino put upon the canvas only 
 a few figures that seem unconscious of each other's pres- 
 fence, Pinturicchio displayed considerable skill in the han- 
 dling of crowds. 
 
 Bath masters taught Raphael to excel in landscape; for 
 they were the greatest painters of landscape until Raphael 
 took from them the palm in this as in all else. Perugino 
 painted the landscape as seen from Perugia's lofty battle- 
 ments, wit^i a low horizon line stretching out into infinite 
 distance. Pinturicchio painted it as it appears to the dweller 
 in the valley, with the horizon line high, and yet with a good 
 sense of space. 
 
 In Perugino's studio Raphael found a number of pupils, 
 some destined to eternal fame, others to oblivion. The at- 
 mosphere was strangely different from that which pre- 
 vailed among the art students of Florence. There life was 
 like it is in the Latin Quarter in Paris to-day, turbulent, 
 vivacious, mischievous, full bf practical jokes and with scant 
 respect for the proprieties. Here all was quiet, the young 
 men painting their Madonnas and saints with simple faith 
 undisturbed by the inquiries of the day. In the absence 
 of female models they would pose for one another in 
 women's parts. We have drawings of Raphael's in which 
 he has used his fellow pupils as models for his female char- 
 acters. They are gentle, graceful youths of truly saintly 
 aspect. It was a good atmosphere in which to bring him up. 
 
 The greatest influence upon Raphael was, perhaps, the 
 kity of Perugia and its surroundings. Perched upon its 
 mountain-top seventeen hundred feet above the sea, its 
 battlements command what is perhaps the most entrancing 
 prospect in all the world. Mountains are about it, but they 
 
RAPHAEL 75 
 
 do not cut off the view. Through far-reaching valleys the 
 eye is lured on from point to point until it is lost in the 
 depths of the infinite; while the winding stream of the 
 Tiber and the high-perched cities crowning every height 
 with their graceful campaniles lend to the landscape an 
 endless variety. Many a time the young man must have 
 stood upon these battlements looking out with enraptured 
 soul upon the limitless expanse, drinking in that sense of 
 the infinite so often suggested in his works. 
 
 Within the city walls what strange contrasts did he find ! 
 Every stone in those narrow streets overshadowed by 
 forbidding palaces had been dyed with blood. The citizens 
 were ever ready to murder each other in some senseless 
 feud ; and yet they were filled with religious aspirations of 
 a mystic intensity. Those grim burghers, who stood pre- 
 pared to cut one another's throats or purses, had the greatest 
 devotional painter of all the ages adorn their meeting 
 place with one of his loveliest Madonnas, and all the 
 churches were filled with pictures of the most exquisite 
 sweetness. When we read of their deeds we think of mur- 
 derous bandits; when we look at their art, they seem the 
 gentle followers of St. Francis, brimming over with love 
 for God and man. 
 
 The Baglioni presented a sad contrast to the enlightened 
 princes of Urbino. They cared nothing for art, nothing for 
 literature. Their only ambition was to maintain their ill- 
 gotten power and to circumvent their enemies. Poets and 
 scholars avoided their palaces, and it was not the princes, 
 but the religious congregations and the honest merchants, 
 who gave encouragement to the arts. 
 
 Perugino's house in the Via Deliziosa still stands. Here 
 Raphael worked, and it is here that he probably lived ; for 
 it was the custom of the time for the pupil to dwell be- 
 neath his master's roof. The home was made attractive 
 
76 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 by the beautiful young wife of the elderly master, Clara 
 Fancelli, daughter of a distinguished architect of Mantua. 
 She brought to her husband a dowry of five hundred gold 
 ducats, which must have been very welcome, for he loved 
 money overmuch. She was truly an old man's darling, for 
 he loved her madly. It is believed that we see her features 
 in the Madonna of his Pavia Altarpiece. 
 
 Shortly after Raphael came to Perugia he painted his 
 first large picture, the Crucifixion that belonged to the late 
 Lugwig Mond, and which he has left to the National Gallery. 
 It is a beautiful picture, with all the spaciousness and seren- 
 ity of Perugino, the adoring saints comforted by the cer- 
 tainty of the Resurrection, the cross standing in a pleasing 
 landscape. It might easily be taken for a work of 
 Raphael's master did we not know that it comes from the 
 pupil's hand. With this work, painted before he was 
 twenty, Raphael bade adieu to the great central event of 
 Christian history. To his bright spirit, full of love for the 
 beautiful and joy in the sweetness of life, such painful sub- 
 jects were distasteful ; and so soon as he became master of 
 himself he turned to more cheerful themes. 
 
 It was about this time, when in his twentieth year, that 
 Raphael painted the St. Sebastian at Bergamo. The beau- 
 tiful young face is pensive with the thought of approaching 
 death; but there are none of the horrors so often seen in 
 pictures of the saint. Only the arrow held daintily in his 
 hand suggests the coming martyrdom. 
 -*« In 1503 Raphael painted the Coronation of the Virgin, 
 the large picture that hangs in the Vatican. It was painted 
 for Maddalena degli Oddi, who, on account of her sex, 
 had been allowed to remain in Perugia when all her male 
 kinsmen were expelled. He started it as an Assumption, and 
 the Disciples stand around the Virgin's empty tomb, from 
 which the Klies grow; but for some unknown reason, after 
 that part of the work was finished, he changed it to a Cor- 
 
RAPHAEL 77 
 
 onatioh; and the Virgin sits quietly in heaven while Christ 
 puts the diadem upon her head. This, too, might be mis- 
 taken for a work of Perugino's ; though there is in it some- 
 thing of greater refinement than that master knew. 
 
 But in the Marriage of the Virgin at Milan, painted for 
 the Church of San Francesco at Citta di Castello when 
 he was twenty-one, the genius of Raphael shines out 
 in individual splendor. Formerly it was universally 
 thought that the Marriage at Caen was by Perugino, and 
 that Raphael had merely improved upon his master's de- 
 sign. Now Mr. Berenson has convinced perhaps a ma- 
 jority of critics that it is only a free copy of Raphael's 
 picture by the hand of Lo Spagna. If so, Raphael's orig- 
 inality is the greater. But in no event is his glory dimin- 
 ished. In every respect his picture is a masterpiece. In 
 the delightful perspective, in the charming architecture of 
 the temple, in the grace of the figures, in its sweet humanity, 
 we realize that a new force has come into the world. He 
 himself was justly proud of this, the most wonderful pic- 
 ture ever painted by a youth of twenty-one, and over the 
 entrance to the temple he has inscribed the words, " Raphael 
 Urbinas M D IIII." In this picture he reveals that prefer- 
 ence for woman and her beauty that was to abide with him 
 through life. Contrary to all precedent he puts the Virgin 
 and her attendant maidens on the right hand of the offici- 
 ating high-priest. 
 
 The picture was painted to celebrate a strange occurrence. 
 A priest had stolen from the Sienese their most precious 
 possession, the wedding ring of the Virgin Mary, and had 
 brought it to Perugia. A war had ensued, but, safe upon 
 her mountain-top, Perugia had kept the ring. How she 
 could have hoped for the Virgin's blessing upon her theft we 
 cannot in these days comprehend; but the Perugians were 
 very happy in their ill-gotten relic, and wished to celebrate 
 its importance. 
 
78 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 In 1503 and 1504 Pinturicchio decorated the Library of 
 the Cathedral of Siena, one of the most beautiful of rooms, 
 full of the delicate charm and grace of the Umbrian school. 
 Vasari says that Raphael aided him in making the designs, 
 and it is highly probable that he did. Raphael had worked 
 with him at Perugia; Pinturicchio knew the wonderful 
 powers of the youth; and when engaged upon his great 
 masterpiece, in whose execution he required numerous as- 
 sistants, it would have been strange if he had forgotten the 
 one who could give him the most efficient aid. Raphael's 
 drawing of the antique group of the Three Graces that still 
 adorns the Library is convincing proof that he was at 
 Siena. 
 
 If, as seems most probable, the Apollo and Marsyas 
 of the Louvre was painted by Raphael, it must have been 
 before leaving Perugia and while the spell of Umbria 
 was strong upon him. It seems impossible to name 
 another who could have produced a work so exquisite 
 and so full of charm, a thing that once seen haunts the 
 memory forever. It is a little picture, but how full of 
 poetry in the graceful forms and the still more gracious 
 landscape ! 
 
 When Raphael made his first trip to Florence we do not 
 know. Probably it was in 1505, after he had done his 
 work for Pinturicchio at Siena., Again he arrived upon 
 the scene at the proper moment. He had learned all that 
 Umbria could teach him. He had absorbed all its spiritual 
 fervor, all its grace, all its ineffable charm, all its sense of 
 the infinity of space. Already, though but a youth of 
 twenty-one, he was a greater artist than Perugino- and Pm- 
 turicchio. If he was to advance upon his radiant path, new 
 worlds must be opened for him to conquer. 
 '■^Florence he found seething with new ideas. Many artists 
 were there, some, like Botticelli, devoted to the old tradi- 
 
RAPHAEL 79 
 
 tions. But into their midst two giants had stridden, Leo- 
 nardo, who had taken art out of its position as the humble 
 handmaid of reUgion and was making it the expression of 
 the universal soul of humanity, and Michelangelo with his 
 titanic power. They stood pitted against one another, ene- 
 mies since Michelangelo's wanton insult upon the streets 
 of Florence, making 'the cartoons for their rival pictures, 
 the Battle of Anghiari and the Battle of Pisa. Leonardo's 
 was incomparable in psychological interest, in its revelation 
 of the heart of man when ravening for his brother's blood ; 
 Michelangelo's was equally supreme as a study of mascu- 
 line anatomy in every variety of movement. The two car- 
 toons when exhibited in the spring of 1506 became the 
 world's school of art. They marked a new departure, and 
 made the work of all men who had preceded the contending 
 giants primitive and archaic. The whole body of artists was 
 in a ferment of excitement, some taking the part of Leo- 
 nardo, others partisans of Michelangelo, still others clinging 
 to the traditions of the past and looking with scant favor 
 on the revolutionists. Here in Florence, where rivalries 
 were so intense, minds in such a ferment, where pagkn an- 
 tiquity and modern science were all laid under contribution 
 m the service of art/ the young man found himself in a new 
 world strangely at variance with the mysticism of Umbria 
 and its rustic grace. | 
 
 A weaker man would have been carried away and have 
 become a follower of one of the giants. Raphael was like 
 a beautiful tree, which absorbs from every soil the elements 
 essential to its growth, and rejects the rest. When he 
 reached Florence he was ready for the lesson that Leo- 
 nardo had to teach. He was not yet ready for Michelan- 
 gelo's. His genius had much more affinity with that of the 
 elder man. TBoth had the same love for beauty, though in 
 Raphael's conception there was not that element of strange- 
 
8o THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 ness that is so haunting in Leonardo's. Like a Greek, he 
 sought beauty in its ideal perfection ; but like Leonardo, he 
 preferred the beauty of woman to the strength of man, the 
 human to the superhuman. 
 
 No doubt Raphael and Leonardo met; but there is no 
 record of their meeting. The great master, in the full pleni- 
 tude of his fame, engaged in important works of art and 
 engineering and absorbed in scientific investigations, could 
 have had little time to give to an unknown youth from the 
 mountains. But his pictures and drawings were there to 
 speak for him; and from them Raphael learned the lesson 
 that Leonardo had to teach. Yet he did not become an 
 imitator of the great master, like so many of the Lombard 
 painters. It is the glory of Raphael that he learned from 
 all and imitated none. PHis was the most assimilative na- 
 ture in the history of art. He took from others only so 
 much as he could make his own, only so much as would 
 become a part of his organic being. The process was one 
 of growth and development. When he came to Florence 
 he did not throw away what he had learned in Umbria. 
 At first his manner is scarcely altered. But gradually 
 as he learns more and more, the breadth and science of the 
 Florentines make themselves increasingly apparent in his 
 work. 
 
 With Michelangelo, who was not greatly his senior, he 
 might have been more intimate. A natural repulsion, how- 
 ever, held the two apart. The great Florentine, .homely of 
 visage, rough in manner, solitary in his habits, probably 
 had no kindly feeling toward the beautiful youth who had 
 all those charms and graces that he lacked. Raphael, on 
 the other hand, the most loyal of men, felt no attraction 
 for the man who had publicly insulted his beloved master 
 Perugino, calling his gracious masterpieces that still delight 
 our eyes "absurd and antiquated." Perugino, enraged at 
 the affront, had gone to law ; and while the suit was still un- 
 
RAPHAEL 8 1 
 
 determined his affectionate pupil could not fraternize with 
 his adversary. 
 
 Raphael never became established in Florence. He spent 
 there the greater part of his time until sometime in 1508; 
 but he received no commission from any religious body or 
 from the govertmient. The city, under the leadership of > 
 Piero Soderini, gonfalonier of justice, was enjoying its 
 last breath of freedom before it sank under the Medicean 
 tyranny, to rise no more until it became a part of United 
 Italy. Raphael always seemed younger than he was, and 
 perhaps the youthful aspect of the beardless boy prevented 
 Soderini from entrusting him , with any important work. 
 Nor did any of the leading men of Florence, such as the 
 Strozzi or the Ruccellai, take him up. His warmest friend 
 was the cultivated Taddeo Taddei, in whose home in the Via > 
 San Gallo he lodgecTfor a time. This unpretentious dwelling 
 bears the proud inscription, " Raphael of Urbino was the 
 guest of Taddeo Taddei in this house in 1505." It is 
 strange, too, that though Raphael produced many of his 
 greatest masterpieces while in Florence — pictures of a 
 ravishing beauty such as the city had never known — he 
 is not mentioned by any of the writers of the time, who are 
 always hailing each budding talent as a new Apelles. The ' 
 blindness of the Florentines, a people singularly alive to new 
 impressions, remains inexplicable. 
 
 But if Florence was slow to appreciate him, Umbria did 
 not forget Raphael, and there he had important commis- 
 sions. For the nuns of St. Anthony of Padua at Perugia' 
 he painted the great picture of the Madonna and Saints, 
 known as the Madonna di Scmf Antonio^ which Mr. Mor- 
 gan has recently acquired for $500,000, then the high- 
 est price ever given for a picture. It is believed that it 
 was ordered before Raphael went to Florence, and painted 
 during his frequent visits to Perugia. It is far from being 
 such a masterpiece as those that he was afterwards to 
 
8a THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 paint; but already there is something in it beyond what 
 Perugino could do, a refinement of features, an aspect of 
 intelligence such as no Umbrian had been able to depict. 
 The face of St. Peter is particularly fine. 
 Here at Perugia, too, was painted the great altarpiece 
 Jknown as the Madonna degli Ansidei, which the British na- 
 tion acquired from the Duke of Marlborough at a cost of 
 £70,000. It is a marvelous work for so young a man, and 
 the face of St. Nicholas of Bari, so refined, so ascetic and 
 yet so kindly, is worthy of the greatest master. It was 
 painted for the Church of San Fiorenzo at Perugia, and 
 bears the date of 1506 upon the Virgin's mantle. 
 V In the Church of San Severo there he painted his first 
 fresco, the Trinity with four angels and six saints on clouds. 
 It is a beautiful work, the faces refined and spiritual to 
 the last degree, the attitudes of extreme grace. He left 
 in 1507, and did not paint the saints on earth below; but 
 the good monks knew that no other hand was worthy to 
 touch such a masterpiece, and they waited patiently for 
 Raphael to rfeturn and finish the picture that he had so 
 wonderfully commenced. Only when he had passed away 
 did they give up hope, and send for Perugino. The in- 
 feriority of his work is painful when thus brought into im- 
 mediate comparison with that of his illustrious pupil. 
 
 We know that on December 29, 1505, Raphael was in 
 Perugia; for on that day he appeared at the convent of 
 Monte Luce, and received thirty ducats as a first payment 
 on a picture of the Coronation of the Virgin which he never 
 found time to paint. In the entry in the convent register 
 this youth of twenty-two is described as " the best painter 
 known to the citizens of Perugia " ; and this in the city that 
 had given a name to Perugino. 
 \ The last work that Raphael was to do for Perugia was 
 ^ the Entombment, now in the Borghese at Rome. It was 
 ordered by the noble Atalanta Baglioni as a peace offering 
 
 i i 
 
RAPHAEL 83 
 
 for the troubled soul of her erring son, Griffone. The com- 
 mission seems to have been given in 1503, but the picture 
 was not finished until 1507, when it was hung in the church 
 of San Francesco. It presented new problems with which 
 Raphael had never grappled. His previous pictures had 
 been simple and serene. Now he had to present active 
 motion and intense suffering. Instead of the few persons 
 whom he had been accustomed to place upon the stage, 
 largely independent of one another, in the manner of Peru- 
 gino, he was to represent a number of persons in concerted 
 action. It is not surprising that before attempting so great 
 a task he made many drawings. These are scattered all 
 over Europe. Yet the result of so much labor was not 
 wholly satisfactory. Raphael was never at his best in 
 scenes of suffering, and in this picture, beautiful as it is, 
 there is something academic, a note that does not ring true. 
 It does not fulfill completely the hopes that are aroused 
 by the exquisite studies that he made in preparation. Va- 
 sari thought it perfect, and no doubt all his contemporaries 
 were of the same opinion. Now it is the fashion to criticize 
 it too severely. The beautiful landscape, with the bare 
 crosses standing gaunt upon the distant hill, is sufficient 
 to make it a notable work, while the body of Christ, studied 
 apparently from that of Michelangelo's Pietd, is most per- 
 fect in form.. All the figures, in fact, are fine, many of 
 them beautiful, but somehow the picture does not grip one 
 as it should. 
 
 In its predella Raphael marked his entry upon a new 
 path. Instead of the little scenes from the Bible story or 
 the Lives of the Saints that had been customary, he gives 
 us figures of Faith, Hope axiA" Charity, purely Greek in 
 spirit, each attended by little angels that are really Cupids. 
 No one can look at these little pictures, now in the Vatican, 
 without realizing that we stand upon the threshold of a new 
 era, when Christian and pagan ideals will be blended into 
 
84 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 a perfect whole. They show that already in his early days 
 at Florence Raphael was studying the masterpieces of 
 antiquity, and that his strangely receptive mind was making , 
 their beauty its own. It is true that the great collection of 
 the Medici, which had been the art-school of Florence, was 
 dispersed when they were expelled in 1494; but many had 
 been purchased by Bernardo Ruccellai, and these were 
 opened freely to students. 
 
 Though he had no public commissions at Florence, Ra- 
 phael could not be idle when in the Tuscan capital. His 
 mind was perhaps the most intensely creative of any in the 
 field of art. He thought in pictures. When a subject 
 occurred to him it presented itself before his mind's eye in 
 all its details, usually with a landscape background of ex- 
 quisite beauty. The temptation to seize the pencil and to 
 fix eternally the fleeting forms was overwhelming, so that 
 he was always busy. And while the government, the re- 
 ligious congregations and the great nobles passed him by, 
 he was not without patrons. Besides Taddeo Taddei, 
 Lorenzo Nasi, another accomplished humanist, was his 
 friend. The art-loving but penurious Angelo Doni appre- 
 ciated his work. Indeed, one of his tasks at Florence was 
 to paint the portraits of Doni and his wife, Maddalena, 
 of the great house of Strozzi. They still gaze at us from 
 the walls of the Pitti. His is a face that haunts one, young 
 and handsome, but strangely restless and dissatisfied. She 
 is painted in imitation of the Mona Lisa, in precisely the 
 same attitude. Perhaps it was her wish to be painted 
 thus like the fair Gioconda, whose portrait, fresh from the 
 hand of Leonardo, was the wonder of the world. JfBut what 
 a contrast between the subtle fascination and elusive smile 
 of the Neapolitan siren and this placid Florentine bourgeoise 
 with her bovine face, into which neither the soul nor any 
 of its maladies has passed ! ' j 
 
 It is the wonderful series of Madonnas that Raphael 
 
RAPHAEL 85 
 
 began while in Florence, the most glorious hymn that was 
 ever surig to woman's beauty and her purity, to childhood's 
 charming innocence, which give him his unique position in 
 the hearts of men. In these forms they see realized their 
 vision of the mother whom they adore, of the wife who 
 shall be the mother of their children, of the children that 
 they wish to have. All that is pure and holy and of good 
 report in woman, all that is sweet and bright in childhood, 
 is there clothed in forms of perfect loveliness. Had Ra- 
 phael never painted the Stanze of the Vatican and the 
 Sibyls of the Pace the world would have been infinitely 
 poorer, but his popularity would have been scarcely less se- 
 cure. 
 
 Perhaps the first of these immortal works was the Mo-L 
 donna del Gran Duca, so called because of the extreme love 
 which the Grand Duke Ferdinand HI of Tuscany felt for 
 it, making it the inseparable companion of his journeys. 
 Of all visions of woman's purity this is without doubt the 
 purest. As she stands there holding the Divine Child on 
 her arm, her great eyes modestly cast down, she is without 
 a rival in the immaculate whiteness of her soul. Umbrian 
 she is in heri virgin modesty ; but already the provincial 
 quaintness of Umbria has passed away, and her appeal is to 
 humanity's universal heart. 
 
 The year of 1506 saw a notable scattering of the great 
 artists from Florence. Michelangelo went to resume his 
 service with the Pope. Leonardo returned to Milan. 
 Perugino lost his suit against Michelangelo, the court 
 justly holding that the words were not actionable, and went 
 back to pass his declining years in the Umbria that he loved 
 so well. The loss to Raphael was not great. From neither 
 Leonardo nor Michelangelo had he received any personal 
 instruction, and their works remained behind for him to 
 study. He had already learned all that Perugino had to 
 teach. The departure of the giants left Florence poor in 
 
86 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 artists but rich' in art — far richer than she is to-day, when 
 so'many of her masterpieces have succumbed to the ravages 
 of time or gone to enrich other lairds. Every church was 
 a school of painting, and the private palaces were richly 
 adorned by the brush. Here Raphael continued his studies, 
 and we know that he was greatly impressed by the works 
 of Masaccio in the Carmine, motives irom which he after- 
 wards used. 
 
 At the same time a new influence came into Raphael's 
 life. Carried away by the preaching of Savonarola and 
 disheartened by his death, Baccio della Porta had taken the 
 cowl as Fra Bartolommeo and had renounced the brush. 
 Now, perhaps called upon to fill the void left by the de- 
 parture of the three greatest masters of the time, he took 
 it up again for the service of God. A close friendship soon 
 sprang up between him and Raphael. The younger man 
 taught him perspective, of which Raphael had demonstrated 
 his supreme mastery in the Marriage of the Virgin. The 
 Frate taught Raphael the principle of pyramidal composi- 
 tion, in which he excelled. Raphael took from his"friend 
 only those elements that were essential to his own develop- 
 ment. He did not imitate his rather empty solemnity. He 
 did not copy his bright but not wholly pleasing colors, nor 
 his tendency to the abuse of red. He did learn the effective- 
 ness of the pyramid, and he used it with a perfect taste 
 and a sense of complete naturalness that the Frate never 
 attained. In the works of the latter we too often feel that 
 the picture has been built up in that shape. In Raphael's, 
 the personages seem so to have assumed their positions by 
 chance, and it is only when we stop to analyze the composi- 
 tion that we perceive the art. 
 
 In this same year of 1506 Raphael seems to have made 
 a visit to Urbino. On April 23, 1506, the good Duke 
 Guidobaldo as Captain of the Church received from Henry 
 VII of England the Order of the Garter. So high an 
 
RAPHAEL 87 
 
 honor demanded recognition, and Guidobaldo sent Baldas- 
 sare Castiglione to England bearing gifts, among them the 
 St. George slaying the Dragon, that is now in the Hermitage. 
 Of course the picture may have been painted in Florence; 
 but now in the days of his prosperity it is more than likely 
 that Raphael returned to his old home, to see his family 
 and to seek the patronage of his father's friend. 
 
 The wonderful series of Madonnas that Raphael painted 
 during his Florentine sojourn are too numerous even to be 
 • mentioned in a sketch like this. M. Muntz estimates that 
 he had painted more than sixty pictures before he was 
 twenty-five. Too many of them are in private ownership, 
 and so hidden from the world. A few of the prime fa- 
 vorites in the public galleries must be spoken of in any life 
 of the master. The Madonnas of this period are all serene 
 and cheerful, perfectly human presentments of maternal 
 affection and childish innocence, with no hint of the super- 
 natural save an occasional nimbus, and usually the scene is 
 laid in a smiling landscape of the greatest beauty. They 
 are all painted in the spirit of Leonardo, and reveal his it^ 
 fiuence. 
 
 The first of these in point of date is probably the Ma- 
 donna di Terranuova at Berlin. It was the first picture in 
 which he introduced the Infant St. John. In this case he 
 made the mistake of introducing a third child, who has no 
 place there and impairs the unity of the work. The Ma- 
 donna is not so beautiful as those to follow, and the rocky 
 background is less pleasing than the verdant expanses which 
 he usually shows. 
 
 The Madonna Tempi at Munich is most lovely in the de- 
 votion with which the beautiful mother presses the beau- 
 tiful infant to her heart. 
 
 As a wedding present for his friend Lorenzo Nasi Ra-' 
 phael painted the delightful Madonna of the Goldfinch in 
 the Tribune of the Uifizi. It takes its name from the bird 
 
88 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 which the Infant St. John is offering to the Christ child. 
 The Madonna has been reading, but she turns from her 
 book with an expression of exquisite sweetness to note the 
 incident. The landscape background, with the lake and 
 mountains in the distance, is most charming. 
 
 This picture had a narrow escape. In 1548 the hill of 
 San Giorgio slipped down, crushing the Nasi home, and 
 breaking the wooden panel, on which the ]^adonna was 
 painted, into more than twenty pieces. Yet it was put to- 
 gether with such skill that scarcely a trace of the accident 
 remains. 
 
 To our mind the most beautiful of all the Florentine 
 ^Madonnas is she of the Meadow who sits so delightfully at 
 Vienna in the green expanse with the lake and mountains 
 in the distance. Here the little Saviour is handing a cross 
 to St. John, who kneels to receive it. As the Virgin watches 
 the scene there is upon her face a shade of foreboding sad- 
 ness. It was painted as a gift for Taddeo Taddei, in return 
 for his hospitality. 
 
 In order to insure truth to nature and vitality of structure 
 it was Raphael's practice to draw his pictures first from 
 the nude model, or, where that was impossible, from the 
 model clothed in clinging garments. In this case the draw- 
 ing from the nude remains in the gallery at Oxford, so 
 rich in the master's drawings, and shows a form of sur- 
 passing beauty not unworthy of the angelic face that is in 
 the finished picture. 
 
 In the Madonna Canigiani at Munich he introduces for 
 the first time the aged St. Elizabeth and St. Joseph. The 
 pyramidal form of composition that he learned from Fra 
 Bartolommeo is here carried to excess; but the picture, 
 with its hill-set cities in the background, is still very de- 
 lightful. 
 
 Perhaps the most popular of these early Madonnas is 
 La Belle Jardinikre of the Louvre. It is remarkable for 
 
RAPHAEL 89 
 
 the way in which the form of the Virgin dominates the 
 landscape. 
 
 To our mind, the least satisfactory of his Florentine pro- 
 ductions is the Madonna del Baldac china, which he left 
 unfinished when he was called to Rome. But for the 
 greater refinement and intelligence of the face's it might 
 pass for a Fra Bartolommeo. 
 
 On the other hand, the portrait of himself in the Uifizi 
 and the St. Catherine of Alexandria in the National Gallery 
 are perfectly delightful. In the portrait, painted for his 
 uncle Simone in 1506, we see a beardless youth with a 
 long neck, olive complexion, great dark eyes and abundant 
 chestnut hair — a face so spiritual that, once seen, it is 
 never forgotten. The beautiful St. Catherine leans upon 
 her wheel in a charming landscape, and her lovely face 
 is turned to heaven with a look of sweetest resignation. 
 
 Of Raphael's movements in these Florentine days we 
 know little. We know that he returned to Perugia several 
 times; and it seems certain that he was in Urbino in 1506, 
 and it is believed that he then went as far as Bologna, where 
 he became the friend of Francia. We know that he was 
 in Urbino in the fall of 1507, when he arranged to pay 
 for a house that he had bought from Serafino Cervasi. 
 Cervasi had been fined in the ecclesiastical courts for ar- 
 ranging a marriage within the prohibited degrees, and had 
 to call on Raphael for prompt payment. 
 
 Raphael's highest ambition was to get some public com- 
 mission at Florence, when unexpectedly there came the call 
 to Rome. On April 21, 1508, he wrote to his uncle Si- 
 mone to get " II Prefetto," as Francesco della Rovere, heir 
 to the Dukedom of Urbino, was called, to use his influence 
 with Soderini to this end. It is probable that before the 
 answer was received he was already on his way south. 
 
go THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 II 
 
 ROMAN DAYS 
 
 In 1508, apparently in the first half, Raphael was called 
 to Rome, to take charge of the decoration of the Stanze 
 of the Vatican. The man who called him. Pope Julius II, ' 
 Giuliano della Rovere, was the greatest pope of the Renais- 
 sance. Of humble origin, he owed his advancement to his 
 uncle, Sixtus IV. He was an old man when he reached 
 the papal chair, but age had not impaired his vigor nor 
 quenched the flames of his fiery soul. He wished to be 
 just; but his violent prejudices and ungovernable temper 
 led him into constant excesses. He was a natural ruler of 
 men, and the temporal power of the papacy was in his eyes 
 far more important than the spiritual. His reign was spent 
 in continual wars for the extension of his dominions. Yet 
 he had one virtue rare at that time — he was free from 
 nepotism. He sought conquests not for his family, but to 
 increase the domains of the Church. His life was a dis- 
 aster for Italy. At war with Alexander VI, he went to 
 France, and in order to punish his enemy, induced Charles 
 VIII to invade the Peninsula, thus bringing ruin upon the 
 land that he loved with all his heart. As Pope, he organ- 
 ized the League of Cambrai that crushed Venice, and so 
 weakened for all time Europe's chief defense against the 
 Ottomite. Yet he did all this with entire rectitude of pur- 
 pose, blinded by the violence of his passions. He was not 
 a learned man. When Michelangelo asked Julius if he 
 should put a book in the hand of his statue at Bologna, 
 Julius exclaimed, " Don't talk to me of books. I am no 
 scholar. Give me a sword." But he had a most intelligent 
 comprehension of the fine arts, especially in their grandest 
 
RAPHAEL 91 
 
 and noblest manifestations. Of all the art patrons of his 
 time he was the most to be commended. He was quick 
 to discern merit. Bramante, the greatest architect, Michel- 
 angelo, the greatest sculptor, and Raphael, the greatest 
 painter, were employed at the first opportunity and retained 
 in his service till the end. Grandiose in his schemes, he 
 had not only undertaken the rebuilding of St. Peter's on 
 a scale of unexampled immensity, but he proposed to tear 
 down all Rome and rebuild it with antique splendor. At 
 the time of Raphael's arrival in Rome he was in the exulta- 
 tion of victory. He had just returned from the conquest 
 of Bologna, which had greatly extended the papal terri- 
 tories. 
 
 It was a strange inspiration that led Julius to send for 
 this youth of twenty-five, who had never completed any 
 great work in fresco, to take charge of the decoration of 
 the Stanze. But Julius was quick to recognize genius and 
 not afraid to trust it. Michelangelo had never done any 
 fresco work when the Pope insisted that he should decorate 
 the ceiling of the Sistine Chjpel. In vain the master 
 pleaded that he was a sculptor, not a painter. The Pontiff 
 insisted, and the result proved his supreme wisdom. It has 
 .been suggested that in his efforts to escape the unwelcome 
 task Michelangelo bethought himself of the young man 
 whom he had known at Florence and whose wonderful 
 talents had fallen under his observation. Julius already 
 had the chief painters of central Italy in his employ, II 
 Sodoma, Perugino, Pinturicchio, Peruzzi and the rest, and 
 to none of them would he entrust the tremendous task. A 
 new name might tempt him. So it is suggested that Michel- 
 angelo recommended Raphael. But if so, it was in vain 
 for his purpose. The Pope, as usual, remained inflexible, 
 and Michelangelo had to take the brush in hand, and to 
 produce the most perfect of all his works. But if the 
 recommendation of Raphael did not save the great sculptor 
 
92 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 from his unwelcome undertaking, it was perhaps influen- 
 tial in calling Raphael to Rome. 
 
 The chief influence was no doubt Bramante. He was 
 frorfa Urbino, and a distant kinsman of Raphael's. In 
 charge of the building of St. Peter's, the enterprise closest 
 to the heart of Julius, he was in daily intercourse with his 
 Holiness. He spoke for his young relative ; and so Raphael 
 came, looking like a beardless boy, and undertook the work. 
 
 The popes had been residing in the apartments on the 
 first floor which Alexander VI had caused Pinturicchio to 
 adorn in delightful fashion. But Julius, whose hatred to 
 the Borgias was as great as their crimes, refused to occupy 
 the rooms desecrated by the presence of " that Simoniac, 
 that Jew," as he called Alexander. So he moved into the 
 chambers above, which under Nicholas V had been deco- 
 rated by Piero della Francesca, Bramantino, Signorelli and 
 Perugino. The Camera della Segnatura, so called because it 
 was there that the papal dispensations were signed, was being 
 painted by Pinturicchio. Julius, however, was dissatisfied 
 with his work. He discharged him, and sent for Raphael. 
 
 We do not know whether the scheme of decoration was 
 
 original with Raphafel, or whether it was suggested by his 
 
 Holiness or some of the scholars abou): his court. The 
 
 yidea was to glorify Religion, Poetry, Philosophy and Law. 
 
 II Sodoma had already decorated the ceiling, and some of 
 his work was suffered to remain. Raphael, however, 
 painted upon it the four beautiful female figures personify- 
 ing his subjects, with smaller illustrative pictures. But it 
 was upon the side walls that his genius was revealed in its 
 greatest splendor, making this room the most perfect in its 
 decoration of all the chambers in the world. 
 
 He began with Religion, and his work is called the 
 Disputd, a word used not in the sense of a dispute, but in 
 its Italian meaning of a friendly discussion. It is a vast 
 semicircular composition. At the top is God the Father 
 
RAPHAEL 93 
 
 with attendant angels. Below him is the Sacred Dove. In 
 the center Christ is enthroned, with the Madonna at his 
 right hand and John the Baptist on the leftJ Seated in a 
 semicircle upon the clouds are the Fathers of the Church, 
 the greater Saints and Adam. Below, upon the earth, are 
 many saints and worthies. Dante is there and Savonarola, 
 whom Julius favored because the Borgia had burned him 
 at the stake. Bramante is there, a proof of the painter's 
 gratitude. It is a wonderful picture, wonderful alike in 
 the harmony of its composition and the perfection of its 
 details. Faces so spiritual have rarely been painted; faces 
 combining so much spirituality with intelligence and manly, 
 beauty, never. In heaven all is ordered and serene. On' 
 earth there is much movement and animation as they dis- 
 cuss the miracle of transubstantiation. But, numerous as 
 are the figures, varied as are their attitudes, there is no 
 confusion. As the apotheosis of the Christian religion thej 
 Disputd stands supreme. 
 
 As was to be expected, Raphael made many studies be- 
 fore he undertook his colossal task. More than thirty 
 drawings for the Disputd have come down to us, and many 
 more have doubtless perished. We have not so many 
 drawings for any other of his pictures. We know, too, 
 that he consulted Ariosto as to the persons who should be 
 portrayed, and doubtless others lent him suggestions; for 
 this youth of twenty-five could scarcely have been an emi- 
 nent theologian. 
 
 Opposite the Disputd he painted the great picture that is 
 now known by the name of the School of Athens. As the 
 Disputd was the apotheosis of the Christian religion, so 
 here was the apotheosis of that antique culture which the 
 Renaissance loved so much and sought to combine with 
 Christian ideals. Lorenzo the Magnificent had expressed 
 the conception of the time when he said that'" without the 
 study of Plato one can be neither a good citizen nor an 
 
94 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 enlightened Christian." Perfect as is the Disputa, marvel- 
 ous as it is for a youth of twenty-five, its production can 
 be understood. Raphael had been brought up in Umbria, 
 where Christianity persisted with medieval fervor. His 
 knowledge of the ancient world, however, must have been 
 slight ; yet here he gives us a work in which all the dignity, 
 the wisdom and the serenity of ancient civilization are 
 summed up as never before or since in the grandest picture 
 ever painted, save the Last Supper of Leonardo da Vinci 
 and Michelangelo's Creation of Man. It is one of those 
 miracles of genius for which there is no accounting. So 
 we see Shakespeare, with little knowledge of antiquity? 
 save what he got from a translation of Plutarch, give us 
 in " Julius Caesar " the work of modern literature most 
 deeply imbued with the spirit of ancient Rome. In these 
 fifty philosophers gathered around Plato and Aristotle 
 there breathes the very soul of Greece. It is said that 
 Bramante furnished the design for the noble hall on whose 
 steps they are gathered. In the lower right hand corner 
 Raphael has painted himself beside his master Perugino, 
 and again he proved his gratitude to Bramante by intro-^ 
 ducing him as Archimedes. The statues painted in the 
 niches are noble in form, worthy to have been copied from 
 the antique, but his own original- conceptions. 
 
 In the Parnassus, painted above the entrance door, the 
 very soul of poetry stands revealed. In the midst Apollo 
 is seated, playing upon the violin, his upturned face full of 
 inspiration. Around him are the Muses, and about these 
 are the great poets of the ancient world and of Italy, with 
 Homer as their chief and Dante close beside him. All is 
 beauty, all is harmony. 
 
 The Jurisprudence offered fewer opportunities, but it is 
 perhaps the most beautiful of them all. There are only 
 three female figures with five attendant cupids, but their 
 lineaments are so perfect, their attitudes so graceful that 
 
RAPHAEL 95 
 
 they enchant every beholder. In the center sits Truth, 
 looking into a mirror which one cupid holds, while another 
 holds the illuminating torch. On one side is Strength, to 
 give the Law its sanction, on the other is Moderation, to 
 restrain excesses. 
 
 In three years the great work was finished. In 1508 
 Raphael had come to Rome an obscure young man; in 1511, 
 at the age of twenty-eight, he stood the foremost painter 
 on earth, with every eye upon him. His modesty, the 
 sweetness of his disposition, the grace of his manners made 
 him a universal favorite in a court crowded with the fore- 
 most men of the time. The greatest ecclesiastics and 
 scholars were his intimate friends. A few of these occupy 
 positions so important in Raphael's life that they must be 
 mentioned. 
 
 The most devoted and serviceable of all Raphael's sup- 
 porters was Bramante. He was not only the greatest archi- 
 tect of the time, but a painter, an engraver, a poet and a 
 wit. He was one of the few who could make the grim old 
 pontiff laugh, and Julius delighted in his companionship. 
 His love for his young kinsman was extreme, and he never 
 failed when the occasion offered to put in a good word 
 on Raphael's behalf. While the other artists dwelt outside 
 the Vatican, Bramante was housed in the Belvedere, where 
 he was accustomed to regale his friends at sumptuous ban- 
 quets enlivened by his wit. 
 
 Perhaps Raphael's next closest friend was the . noble 
 Count Baldassare Castiglione, who came to Rome first in 
 1510 ; and who in 1512 took up his permanent residence there 
 as the representative of Urbino at the papal court. He 
 was the most perfect gentleman of his time, a poet, a 
 scholar, the Chesterfield of his age, without the faults of 
 that noble lord. He was an enthusiastic student of an- 
 tiquity and a keen and discriminating judge of art. He 
 was born at Mantua in 1478, and was educated at the bril- 
 
g6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 liant court of Lodovico il Moro. The most disinterested 
 of men, he served the Dukes of Urbino with rare fideHty, 
 and was most serviceable to all his friends, particularly to 
 Raphael. He is familiar to us all in the splendid portrait 
 by the master's hand that adorns the Louvre. 
 
 Bernardo Dovizio, called Bibbiena from the place of his 
 birth, was equally devoted to Raphael's interests. He was 
 the perfect type of the wary diplomatist, and in 1513 he 
 became a cardinal. He first appears as secretary to Lo- 
 renzo the Magnificent. When the Medici were expelled 
 from Florence he fled with Giuliano to Urbino, where he be- 
 came one of the great ornaments of its cultivated court. 
 Here he wrote and produced " Calandria," the first Italian 
 comedy; a most licentious piece, but which was afterwards 
 played at the Vatican with applause. Raphael has left us 
 his portrait in the Pitti, a face of great refinement and in- 
 telligence, that speaks of the cunning diplomat. 
 
 Pietro Bembo was also made a cardinal in 1539. He 
 was of noble Venetian family. He studied at Florence, 
 and then went to Messina, to perfect himself in Greek un- 
 der Constantine Lascaris. Before coming to Rome he went 
 to the brilliant courts of Ferrara and Urbino, where he was 
 received with great favor, and wrote his dialogues on love, 
 called the " Asolani." When discoursing of love at Guido- 
 baldo's court he was so carried away by his own eloquence 
 that a lady exclaimed, " If you do not restrain yourself 
 your soul will quit your body." To which he replied, 
 " Madam, that would not be the greatest folly that love has 
 led me to commit"; a strange sentiment for an ecclesiastic 
 vowed to celibacy. At Ferrara he fell desperately in love 
 with Lucretia Borgia, then Duchess of that city ; but while 
 she seems to have returned his affection, their relations re- 
 mained pure, owing to the high character that Lucretia 
 showed as Duchess of Ferrara. In Raphael's day he was 
 papal secretary; in much favor at the papal court. He 
 
RAPHAEL 97 
 
 was a passionate lover of antique art, and made a precious 
 collection of statues, coins and medals. 
 
 Another devoted friend was Tomaso Inghirami, secre- 
 tary of the Sacred College. Like Bibbiena and Bembo, he 
 was born in 1470. Volterra was the place of his birth. 
 When this city was sacked by the Florentines in 1472 Lo- 
 renzo the Magnificent took the infant to be reared in his 
 own palace. As he grew up, Lorenzo supervised his 
 studies, and later sent him as an emissary to the court of 
 Alexander VI. He was most eloquent, and in Raphael's 
 day was the most popular preacher in Rome. We know 
 how he looked, for the master has left a living likeness of 
 him in the Pitti; a stout man whose right eye is strangely 
 cocked, looking upward and outward in a disconcerting 
 way. He won his name of Phedra by his skill at improv- 
 isation. It was conferred upon him when on one occasion 
 he prevented a panic in a theater by holding the audience 
 spellbound with his improvised verses. 
 
 Baldassare Turini, president of the papal chancellery, was 
 another faithful friend. He was one of Raphael's execu- 
 tors, and proved faithful to the memory of the great painter. 
 
 A man not to be forgotten was Johannes Goritz of Lux- 
 emburg, who held the office of apostolic prothonotary at 
 the papal court. His specialty was banquets, at which he 
 , assembled all the artists, scholars and wits of Rome. 
 Raphael was his frequent guest. 
 
 Among Raphael's closest friends were the poets and 
 scholars Sannazaro, Tebaldeo, Navagero and Beazzano, 
 men of great renown in their day, but whose names, save 
 that of the first, have now passed into oblivion, so that for 
 all their classic learning^nd skill in versifying they are re- 
 membered only because they loved the great painter. 
 
 The infamous Pietro Aretino, vilest and ablest of all the 
 men who have lived by blackmail, claimed in after years to 
 have been Raphael's friend; but his word raises no pre- 
 
98 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 sumption of truth; and the high character of all the mas- 
 ter's known intimates makes it unlikely that he would have 
 consorted with such a knave, though at that time Aretino 
 held a position at the papal court. 
 
 After the pontiffs the most munificent of Raphael's 
 'patrons was Agostino_Chigi, the great banker who had come 
 from Siena. He was the richest man of his time. He had 
 more than two hundred business establishments in as many 
 cities. His fleets covered the Mediterranean. More than 
 twenty thousand men were in his service. His revenues 
 exceeded seventy thousand gold ducats. He lived like a 
 prince, giving banquets in which he sought to surpass the 
 splendor of Lucullus. He early detected Raphael's geniuSj 
 and until the end employed his talents in great works. 
 
 Another banker was the handsome and cultivated Bindo 
 Altoviti, whose portrait by the master's hand adorns the 
 gallery at Munich. The f^ce is so remarkable for its re- 
 finement and beauty that it has been mistaken for Raphael 
 himself. He was a great lover of the arts and devoted to 
 Raphael's interests. 
 
 Indeed, to name all of Raphael's friends would be to 
 name all the distinguished men of Rome save Michelangelo 
 and Sebastian del Piombo. It is not likely that the former 
 felt any resentment toward his younger rival. Though his 
 manners were rough, his heart wis sound. Bramante, who 
 disliked him, was always conspiring to push Raphael into 
 his place, and naturally the great sculptor resented this. 
 Sebastian del Piombo was at first a friend and admirer 
 of Raphael's. Envy, however, was the mainspring of his 
 character, and as Raphael advanced upon his radiant path 
 Sebastian grew to hate him with a bitter hatred. Unfor- 
 tunately for him, his correspondence has been preserved, 
 and it reveals the baseness of soul that disgraced his emi- 
 nent talents. 
 
 There was never a time when the papal court was so 
 
RAPHAEL 59 
 
 brilliant as under Julius II and his successor Leo X. All 
 Italy was alive with genius. Poetry, philosophy, science, 
 art, scholarship were intensely vital. While religious en- 
 thusiasm had grown somewhat weak in Italy, it was ardent 
 in other lands ; and the vast sums that flowed into the papal 
 treasury placed the pontiffs in a position to patronize talent 
 as no other sovereign could ; so that most of the many men 
 whose genius adorned the age were either residents or vis- 
 itors at the papal court. Among these eminent men 
 Raphael moved, delighting all by the charm of his man- 
 ner. 
 
 Raphael was no doubt as great a favorite with the women 
 as with the men. On the backs of drawings for the Dis- 
 puta are three imperfect sonnets by his hand. They prove 
 that the great poet of the brush was no great poet in words. 
 He lacks the fluency of his father, and struggles painfully 
 for rhymes, though rhyming is so easy in Italian, owing to 
 its poverty in vowel sounds. They show, however, that 
 he was in love with a lady whose social position made it 
 necessary to conceal their amours, and that he had no 
 cause to complain of her cruelty. 
 
 And here we may as well set out the little that is known 
 of Raphael's love affairs. It was inevitable that one so 
 handsome and of such delightful manners should have been 
 much beloved ; but the discretion of which he boasts in his ■ 
 sonnets has left scant traces of his conquests. 
 
 We know that the tender passion engaged his thoughts 
 in Florentine days ; for on the back of a fine drawing which 
 he sent to his fellow-pupil and devoted follower, Domenico 
 Alfani, at Perugia is a request for the love-songs of Ric- 
 ciardo. 
 
 Vasari tells this story: 
 
 "He was much disposed to the gentler affections and de- 
 lighted in the society of women, for whom he was ever ready 
 
too THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 to perform acts of service. But he also permitted himself to 
 be devoted somevirhat too earnestly to the pleasures of life, 
 and in this respect was perhaps more than duly considered and 
 indulged by his friends and admirers. We find it related that 
 his intimate friend Agostino Chigi had commissioned him to 
 paint the first floor of his palace; but Raphael was at that time 
 so much occupied with the love which he bore to the lady of 
 his choice that he could not give sufficient attention to the 
 work. Agostino therefore, falling at length into despair of 
 seeing it finished, made so many eflforts by means of friends 
 and by his own care, that after much difficulty he at length 
 prevailed on the lady to take up her abode in his house, where 
 she was accordingly installed in apartments near those which 
 Raphael was painting; in this manner the work was ultimately 
 brought to a conclusion." 
 
 It is not likely that this was the lady of the sonnets, to 
 whom concealment was so essential. 
 
 In his will Raphael makes provision for his inamorata, 
 whose name was Margarita. There is nothing to indicate 
 how long she had occupied that position, or to connect her 
 with the lady of whom Vasari speaks. 
 
 During the eighteenth century a story was published, 
 telling of Raphael's devotion to a baker's daughter, a 
 fornarina. It has no support in any contemporary author- 
 ity, and is apparently a pure fabrication. 
 
 In the Barbarini Palace is the portrait of a bold, black- 
 eyed wench of plebeian features and uncovered bosom, who 
 is called the Fornarina. That she belonged to Raphael is 
 inferred by some from his name on her bracelet ; but there 
 is nothing to connect her with the Margarita of the will. 
 She seems to be as different as possible from the woman 
 whom the most refined of painters would be expected to 
 choose. If he loved her, her appeal could not have been to 
 his head or heart. 
 
 In the Tribune of the Uffizi is the portrait of a most 
 beautiful woman which from time immemorial has passed 
 
RAPHAEL loi 
 
 for Raphael's Fornarina. Morelli pronounced it the work 
 of Sebastian del Piombo, and substantially all critics con- 
 curred in his judgment. Recently, however, Dr. Bode has 
 plunged the matter into uncertainty by declaring that it is 
 by the cunning hand of Raphael, painting in Sebastian's 
 manner. 
 
 When Raphael had long been dead and all the witnesses 
 had passed away, various stories of his loves were told by 
 imaginative writers; but the scant facts we have narrated 
 are all that we really know. 
 
 In the Pitti is a picture called the Donna Velata, the 
 Lady with the Veil. Some see in this a resemblance to the 
 Sistine Madonna, and imagine her to be the beloved of 
 Raphael. The resemblance is not striking, and may be 
 casual. The better opinion now seems to be that it is a 
 work of the Bolognese school, and not by the hand of Ra- 
 phael at all. 
 
 While Raphael was painting the Camera della Segnatura 
 a great event occurred, pregnant with the fate of nations, 
 though no one knew it. An obscure German monk named 
 Martin Luther came to Rome in 1510 on business for his 
 monastery. To his eyes all the splendor of the papal court 
 was but corruption, its art rottenness, its love of Greek 
 culture a return to paganism, its philosophy the babbling 
 of fools ; and he went away with the seeds of revolt deep in 
 his soul. 
 
 Raphael painted the portrait of Pope Julius. At least 
 three extant versions are claimed to be the original. They 
 are found in the Uffizi, the Pitti and the National Gallery. 
 Each has its partisans, while there are some who contend 
 that all are merely copies of an original that is lost. At any 
 rate, they are all wonderful portraits, showing the grim old 
 lion in the fullness of his terrible force. When in the au- 
 tumn of 1510 he went to Bologna to take charge of the war 
 against France, Julius swore that he would never trim his 
 
I02 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 beard until the French were driven out of Italy. He re- 
 turned defeated, with Bologna lost; and so his beard was 
 left to grow. 
 
 Immense as was the labor of painting the Camera della 
 Segnatura, it did not consume all of Raphael's time. 
 Amongst the productions of that busy period was the Mch 
 jdonna of the House of Alba at St. Petersburg, perhaps the 
 most delightful of all his Madonnas in his early manner. 
 Here we find ourselves transported from Umbria to the 
 broad expanse of the Roman Campagna, with its low moun- 
 tains closing in the distance. Yet its spirit is still that of 
 Florentine days. Most probably it was painted while he 
 was working on the Disputa. In the Virgin of the Diadem 
 in the Louvre the influence of Rome is apparent. 
 
 When the Camera della Segnatura was finished Julius 
 was delighted with the result. Perugino, II Sodoma and 
 Pinturicchio were all sent off, and Raphael was put in full 
 charge of the decorations, with authority to employ such 
 assistants as he saw fit. Besides his Holiness, everyone 
 else was clamoring for a picture from the hands of the 
 youthful master. Realizing that he was growing old and 
 that if the work was to be finished in his day it must be 
 hurried on, Julius was importunate in his exactions. If 
 Raphael had had the hundred arms of Briareus, he could 
 not have met the demands upon him. Under the circum- 
 stances he was forced to call in many assistants. He was 
 the idol of the young, and they all sought to enroll them- 
 selves under his banner. Even men far older than he, like 
 his former master, Timoteo Viti, were proud to work 
 under his orders. His studio soon became a busy work- 
 shop, where artists of every kind were carrying out his 
 plans. , 
 
 This workshop was the marvel of Rome. Artists are 
 usually high-strung and irritable, full of jealousies and sus- 
 ceptibilities, so that any cooperation between them is diffi- 
 
RAPHAEL 103 
 
 cult ; but owing to the marvelous tact of the young master 
 only harmony and good will reigned beneath his roof. His 
 serene cheerfulness, his consideration for others were con- 
 tagious. All loved him and were delighted to do his bid- 
 ding. Vasari says: 
 
 " This was the power accorded to him by Heaven, of bring- 
 ing all who approached his presence; into harmony; an effect 
 inconceivably surprising in our calling, and contrary to the 
 nature of our artists. Yet all, I do not say of the inferior 
 grades only, but even those who lay claim to be great per- 
 sonages (and of this humor our art produces immense num- 
 ber), became of one mind, once they began to labor in the 
 society of Raphael, continuing in such unity and concord, that 
 all harsh feelings and evil dispositions became subdued and 
 disappeared at the sight of him; every vile and base thought 
 departing from the mind before his influence. Such harmony 
 prevailed at no other time than his own. And this happened 
 because all were surpassed by him in friendly courtesy as well 
 as in art; all confessed the influence of his sweet and gracious 
 nature, which was so replete with excellence, and so perfect 
 in all the charities, that not only was he honored by men, but 
 even by the very animals, who would constantly follow his 
 steps and always loved him. 
 
 "We find related, that whenever any other painter, whether 
 known to Raphael or not, requested any design or assistance, 
 of whatever kind, at his hands, hp would invariably leave his 
 work to do him service; he continually kept a large number 
 of artists employed, all of whom he assisted and instructed 
 with an affection which was rather as that of a father to his 
 children than merely as of an artist to artists. From these 
 things it followed that he was never seen to go to Court but 
 surrounded and accompanied, as he left his house, by some 
 fifty painters, all men of ability and distinction, who attended 
 him thus to give evidence of the honor in which they had 
 held him. He did not, in short, live the life of a painter, but 
 that of a prince." 
 
I04 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Once Michelangelo met him thus, and exclaimed, " You 
 go attended like a general " ; to which Raphael replied, 
 " And you go alone, like the hangman." But we may be 
 sure that the bitter words were said with a smile that took 
 away their sting. 
 
 Of his disciples the ones whom he most relied on were 
 Giulio Romano, Giovanni Francesco Penni and Perino del 
 Vaga. They came to him young, and he trained them to 
 imitate his style with considerable success. 
 
 A man of such distinction must have a suitable dwelling ; 
 and in 1517 Raphael purchased of the Caprivi an elegant 
 mansion that Bramante had erected in the Borgo Nuovo, 
 one of the streets running from the Bridge of St. Angelo 
 to St. Peter's. It was a convenient place, for in this street 
 dwelt most of the artists employed in the Vatican. Here 
 Raphael lived in princely style, surrounded by his devoted 
 disciples; entertaining at his hospitable board the great- 
 est men in Rome. Before his time artists had been classed 
 with artisans. He ranked with the great of the earth. 
 One sees the respect in which he was held in the letters of 
 the agents of the Duke of Ferrara, who dared not com- 
 municate to him their master's threats. 
 
 What has become of Raphael's home is uncertain. Ac- 
 cording to one version, it was torn down to make room 
 for the Accoramboni Palace. According to another it 
 still survives, and is known as the Palace of the Conver- 
 tendi. 
 
 Vasari, the devoted friend of Michelangelo, exaggerates 
 the debt that Raphael owed the great sculptor, and the 
 world has been content to reecho his judgment. In after 
 years Michelangelo himself declared that Raphael owed all 
 his art to him. This, however, was far from the truth. 
 His work that bears the strongest evidence of Michel- 
 angelo's influence is the Isaiah painted for Goritz on a col- 
 umn in the Church of Sant' Agostino. But Raphael saw 
 
RAPHAEL 105 
 
 that he was following a false route, and went no farther. 
 It is true that at Rome a great change came over his art. 
 It ceased tojbe medieval and became classic. But it was not 
 Michelangelo that wrought the change; it was the Apollo 
 Belvedere and the other great masterpieces of antique 
 sculpture that adorned the Vatican and the ancient wall 
 paintings of the Baths of Titus. He acquired strength, but 
 it was not the tortured strength of Michelangelo. It was 
 the serene strength that breathes from the antique marbles. 
 In the School of Athens their influence first makes itself 
 fully felt, and never again is it absent from his works. Of 
 all moderns he best embodies the Greek ideal while not 
 losing his hold on the ideals of Christianity. 
 
 No sooner had Raphael finished the Camera della Segna- 
 tura than his Holiness demanded that' he should decorate 
 the adjacent chamber, called now the Camera dell' Eliodoro, 
 from the picture of Heliodorus driven from the Temple, 
 which is its most striking feature. It had been decorated 
 by Piero della Francesca, Bramantino and Peruzzi. Julius 
 ordered that their work be destroyed, to make way for his 
 new favorite. Raphael, more appreciative of their merits, 
 had copies made before they were effaced, that they might 
 not be wholly lost. On the four walls, in addition to the 
 picture that has given the room its name, he depicted the 
 Mass of Bolsena, the Defeat of Attila and the Deliverance 
 of St. Peter from Prison. 
 
 This room is far inferior to the Camera della Segnatura. 
 That was substantially the work of his own hands ; this is 
 chiefly the work of pupils carrying out his designs. In the 
 former the brushwork is perfect; here it is too often 
 crude. But a greater difference still is in the choice of^ 
 subjects. In the former chamber he dealt with the eternal 
 themes that appeal to all men in all ages. In the chamber 
 of Heliodorus he sinks into the dreary field of historical 
 painting. He no longer appeals to the great heart of hu- 
 
io6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 manity that is the same yesterday, to-day and forever. 
 He merely relates the triumphs of the Papacy. And save 
 the Mass of Bolsena the pictures all have reference to cur- 
 rent events. In the first we see Heliodorus driven from the 
 temple by the avenging angels while Julius looks on, borne 
 in his papal chair by Giulio Romano, Raphael's favorite 
 pupil, and Marcantonio Raimondi, the great engraver, who 
 was spreading Raphael's conceptions through every land. 
 It refers to the plans of Julius to drive the French from 
 the sacred soil of Italy. 
 
 The Miracle of Bolsena was painted almost entirely by 
 Raphael's own hand. Brushwork and color are alike ad- 
 mirable. Again Julius dominates the scene, kneeling op- 
 posite the unbelieving priest, who is converted by the sight 
 of the blood dropping from the holy wafer. The inscrip- 
 tion shows that it was finished on November i, 15 12. 
 
 While painting these frescoes Raphael executed one of 
 his greatest masterpieces, the Madonna di Foligno, which 
 marks a step in his advance to the supreme glory of the 
 Sistine Madonna. It was not painted for the town whose 
 name it bears, but in gratitude for the escape of its donor, 
 Sigismondo Conti, the papal secretary, from a shell that 
 burst near him during the siege of that place. In the back- 
 ground Foligno is 'seen, and across the sky above it is the 
 shell's flaming path, which is usually spoken of as a rain- 
 bow. Seated upon the clouds, in a circular glory of light, 
 surrounded by many cherubs, is the Madonna, holding in 
 her arms the Divine Child. She is different from the Ma- 
 donnas of Florence. She is not less beautiful, but some-/ 
 thing unearthly has entered into her face, an expression 
 of wistful sadness that no dopy, not even a photograph, can 
 reproduce. It was hung above the high altar in the great 
 church of Ara Coeli on the Capitol, and is now in the Vati- 
 can. Conti died on February 23, 15 12, before the picture 
 was finished. In him Raphael lost a true friend who had 
 
RAPHAEL 107 
 
 been the friend of his father, and who is mentioned with 
 honor in Giovanni Santi's poem. 
 
 About the same time the master painted with the help of 
 his pupils the Madonna del Divino Amore at Naples and 
 the Madonna dell' Impannata at Florence. Both are fine in 
 conception; but the execution shows how much the best of 
 his disciples lacked of his supreme mastery. The latter 
 was painted for Raphael's friend, Bindo Altoviti. It is 
 named for the linen blind to the window behind the Virgin. 
 
 On the eve of All Saints, 15 12, Julius II went to see the 
 ceiling of the Sistine, now complete. He was ill at the 
 time; but, upheld by the force of his iron will, he gazed 
 with admiration on Michelangelo's sublime masterpiece, and 
 knew that he had done well in compelling its execution. 
 But his race was nearly run, and even his relentless de- 
 termination could not carry much farther a body worn out 
 by age and the violence of ungoverned passions. On 
 Christmas Eve he took to his bed, and it was realized that 
 the hand of death was on him. Those were anxious days 
 for Raphael. Affectionate by nature, he loved the old 
 lion who had been to him so faithful a friend. In his anx- 
 iety he refused to talk about business. On February 20, 
 1513, Julius died. To RaphaiCl's sorrow at his loss was 
 added anxiety as to his own future. A pontiff who would 
 be so fond of the arts and so munificent a patron it would 
 be hard to find. 
 
 The result, however, proved in no wise to his disad- 
 vantage. On March 11, 15 13, Giovanni de' Medici was 
 elected pope, and assumed the title of Leo X. The son of 
 Lorenzo the Magnificent, he had received an accomplished 
 education not only in the classics, but in all the elegancies 
 of life. At fifteen he was made a cardinal. We know ex- 
 actly how he looks, for perhaps the greatest of all Raphael's 
 portraits is that in the Pitti where he sits attended by his 
 kinsmen, the cardinals Giulio de' Medici and Luigi de' 
 
io8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Rossi. The likeness is so astonishing that it is said that 
 Turini, president of the Chancellery, took it for reality, and, 
 kneeling before it, offered his Holiness the pen to sign 
 some documents. A large fat man, good humor and self 
 indulgence are written on every feature. His motto was 
 ^uave, "gently," and he lived up to it. He was kind 
 hearted and generous to the point of reckless prodigality. 
 The fame of his liberality was so great that all Rome re- 
 joiced at his election. The feasts and processions on the 
 occasion of his inauguration exceeded anything ever seen in 
 papal Rome. Eight thousand ducats per month were spent 
 upon his table alone, where Julius had allowed his major 
 domo only fifteen hundred for all expenses. Temperate 
 himself, he yet loved to see all around him eat and drink. 
 Each evening he spread a splendid banquet, and the feasting 
 lasted far into the night, attended with a great flow of wit 
 and no little talk on letters and art. On his election he 
 said to Giuliano de' Medici, " Brother, since Grod has given 
 us the papacy, let us enjoy it," and he lived on that princi- 
 ple. To the people of his own city his generosity was un- 
 bounded. AH Florence came to Rome, and was gorged. 
 Each morning he had placed by his side a salver heaped 
 with gold-pieces for little gifts, and each night it was empty. 
 Unhappily, in this world those who dance must pay the 
 piper. With, an income of four hundred thousand ducats, 
 equal to four million dollars, Leo was always in straits for 
 money. He sold all ecclesiastical preferments. To fill his 
 empty coffers he created thirty cardinals at one time. He 
 finally resorted to the sale of indulgences, which precipi- 
 tated the Protestant revolt. Meanwhile, in Rome all went 
 merry as a marriage bell. They heard the distant mutter- 
 ings of the great storm that was gathering beyond the Alps ; 
 but to Leo and his advisers it seemed a matter of slight im- 
 portance — one of those provincial insurrections of which 
 the Church had already put down so many. 
 
RAPHAEL 109 
 
 If Leo was less discriminating in his patronage of art 
 than his illustrious predecessor, he was more generous. 
 But art must be cheerful and administer to the pleasures 
 of life. Michelangelo, with his titanic power and gloom, 
 was out of favor, and was sent to waste his days at Carrara, 
 getting out marble for the facade of San Lorenzo at Flor- 
 ence. Signorelli, Michelangelo's not unworthy forerunner, 
 applied in vain for work. Raphael was the man of the 
 hour. His pictures combined beauty with serenity. They 
 were fair and cheerful, like the gods of Greece. They were 
 pleasant to live with. Their contemplation heightened the 
 joy of life. Moreover, Raphael's charming manners made 
 him without an effort the perfect courtier, and every day he 
 grew in favor with his Holiness. Leo not merely over- 
 whelmed him with artistic commissions, but he made him ^ 
 a chamberlain at the papal court and a Knight of the Golden-^ 
 Spur; thus placing him in a social grade apart from all 
 rivals. 
 
 The first task that the new pontiff laid on him was the 
 completion of the frescoes in the Camera d'Eliodoro. They 
 were not now to glorify Julius, however, but his successor. 
 
 Over the entrance door the master painted the Deliver- 
 ance of St. Peter from Prison. The reference was to the 
 almost miraculous escape of Leo when taken prisoner by 
 the French at the battle of Ravenna. On the other side 
 wall he depicted the Defeat of Attila, showing the great 
 barbarian whose ferocity had given him the name of the 
 Scourge of God, driven back with his savage hordes from 
 the gates of Rome by the calm majesty of Pope Leo I and 
 the apparition of St. Peter and St. Paul sweeping through 
 the air with drawn swords. His Holiness has the features 
 of Leo X, and he rides the gray horse that bore him at 
 Ravenna. The picture refers to the expulsion of the French 
 from Italy after the Battle of Novara, won by the coalition 
 of which Leo was the head. 
 
no THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 In the " Cortegiano " Castiglione says that two cardinals 
 reproached Raphael with painting the cheeks of St. Peter 
 and St. Paul red, and that the master replied that they were 
 blushing to see the Church ruled by such men. It seems 
 unlikely that so consummate a courtier would have used 
 such language to princes of the Church. 
 
 When this room was finished in June, 15 14, Raphael had 
 acquired a new position in the realm of art — he was the 
 greatest illustrator that the world has ever seen. No one 
 has ever told a story in pictures so well aS he, combining 
 clearness with animation and an agreeable distribution of 
 groups. Henceforth he must be recognized as the greatest 
 of all composers with pencil or brush. His fame as an 
 illustrator was to be confirmed by the two later Stanze, by 
 the Cartoons and the Loggie; but already he had shown a 
 skill in that department of his art that none could match. 
 Unhappily, the execution, entrusted chiefly to his disciples, 
 is far inferior to the conception and design. When one 
 passes from the serene and perfect beauty of the Camera 
 della Segnatura into the other chambers, one feels that one is 
 descending into a lower world. 
 
 On March 14, 1514, Raphael lost Bramante, the most de- 
 voted of all his friends. He was buried in the crypt of St. 
 Peter's. All the artists in Rome attended the funeral and 
 Raphael was chief mourner. It must have been a severe 
 blow to his heart ; but from a worldly point of view it re- 
 dounded to his advantage. On his deathbed the great 
 architect recommended Raphael as his successor in the 
 building of St. Peter's. Leo acted on his advice, associ- 
 ating with Raphael two of Bramante's assistants, Fra Gio- 
 condo, who was over eighty, and Giuliano da San Gallo, 
 who was over seventy. The idea was that before passing 
 off the stage they might transmit their knowledge to the 
 young master. 
 
 Raphael entered upon his new duties with enthusiasm. 
 
RAPHAEL III 
 
 At first his appointment was provisional; but when at the 
 end of three months he presented his wooden model of the 
 building, it was made permanent, with a salary of three 
 hundred gold ducats. This model has perished. We only 
 know that for the Greek cross of Bramante a Latin cross 
 was substituted. We doubt whether it was an improve- 
 ment; but in the absence of accurate information we can 
 only judge by the result when the edifice was finally com- 
 pleted as a Latin Cross by Carlo Maderna. Probably the 
 change was imposed by the ecclesiastical authorities, who 
 did not wish in the central shrine of Western Christianity 
 to sanction the conception of the Greek-'Chfirch. 
 
 In Giuliano Leno Raphael had an admirable master of 
 the work who had served under Bramante. He was im- 
 mensely rich according to the standards of the time. Worth 
 eighty thousand ducats, he labored only from love of the 
 work. 
 
 Having undertaken to build the world's greatest edifice, 
 Raphael set himself seriously to the study of architecture. 
 Marco Fabio Calvo, of the noble house of Guiccioli of Ra- 
 venna, and so akin to the lady who afterwards captivated 
 Lord Byron with her smiles, was a great Greek scholar. 
 He was very old, but the master brought him to Rome, took 
 him into his own house, and had him translate Vitruvius 
 into Italian. Armed with the works of the greatest of an- 
 cient authorities on architecture, Raphael felt more secure. 
 The necessity of strengthening various piers in St. Peter's 
 before proceeding and the want of funds prevented his 
 doing much toward the carrying out of his plans there; 
 but he designed the Villa Madama on Monte Mario, the 
 Pandolfini Palace at Florence, and various other build- 
 ings. . Competent judges rank his architectural abilities 
 highly. 
 
 Two letters of Raphael's written in this year are of pe- 
 culiar interest. To Castiglione he writes: 
 
112 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 "Sir Count: I have made several designs in accordance with 
 the ideas which you suggested; and if I believe my flatterers, 
 I have satisfied them all. Yet I have not satisfied my own 
 judgment, since I fear that I shall not have pleased yours. I 
 send the designs, and beg you will make a selection, if you 
 think any of them worthy of acceptance. Our Lord (the 
 Pope) has done me great honor by throwing a considerable 
 burden on my shoulders — that of attending to the building of 
 St. Peter's. I hope I shall not sink under it; the more so as 
 the model which I have made is approved by His Holiness, 
 and praised by many intelligent persons. But I soar in thought 
 to higher spheres — I should like to discover the beautiful 
 forms of ancient edifices, and know not whether my flight 
 may not be the flight of Icarus. I gather much light from 
 Vitruvius, but not as much as I require. 
 
 " With regard to the ' Galatea ' I should consider myself a 
 great master if it realized one half of the many things of 
 which you write; but I gather from your words the love you 
 bear me, and I should tell you that to paint a beauty one should 
 see many, the sole condition being that you should be with me 
 to make choice of the best. Good judgment being as scarce 
 as handsome women, I make use of a certain idea which comes 
 to my mind. But whether this, in itself, has any excellence 
 of art I know not; I shall do what I can to attain it." 
 
 The other to his uncle Simone di Ciarla. 
 
 " To my dearest Cousin, Simone di Battista di Ciarla in Urbino. 
 
 "Dearest, in place of a father: I have received one of yours; 
 most dear to me because it assures me that you are not angry, 
 which indeed would be wrong considering how tiresome it is 
 to write when one has nothing of consequence to say. But 
 now, being of consequence, I reply to tell you as much as I 
 am able to communicate. 
 
 "And first, in reference to taking a wife, I reply that I 
 am quite content in respect of her whom you first wished to 
 give me, and I thank God constantly that I took neither her 
 nor another, and in this I was wiser than you who wished me 
 to take her. I am sure that you, too, are now aware that I 
 
RAPHAEL 113 
 
 would not have the position I now hold, since I find myself 
 at this present in possession of things in Rome worth three 
 thousand ducats of gold, and receipts of fifty scudi in gold, 
 because His Holiness has given me a salary of three hundred 
 gold ducats for attending to the building of St. Peter's, which 
 I shall never fail to enjoy so long as my life lasts; and I am 
 certain of getting others, and am also paid for what I do to 
 what amount^ I please, and I have begun to paint another room 
 for His Holiness which will amount to one thousand two hun- 
 dred ducats of gold. So that, dearest Cousin, I do honor to 
 you and all relatives, and to my country; yet for all that, I 
 hold you dear in the center of my heart, and when I hear 
 your name, I feel as if I heard that of a father; and do not 
 complain of me because I do not write, because I have to 
 complain of you that you sit pen in hand all day and let six 
 months go by between one letter and the other. , Still, with 
 all that, you will not make me angry with you, as you do 
 wrongly with me. 
 
 " I have come fairly out of the matter of a wife, but, to 
 return to that, I answer that you may know that Santa Maria 
 in,Porticu (Cardinal Bibbiena) wants me to have one of his 
 relatives, and with the assent of you and the cousin priest 
 (Bartolommeo Santi) I promised to do what his reverend lord- 
 ship wanted, and I cannot break my word. We are now more 
 than ever on the point of settling, and presently I shall advise 
 you of everything. Have patience, as the matter is in such a 
 good way and then, should it not come off, I will do as you may 
 wish, and know that if Francesco Buffa has offers for me, I have 
 some of my own also, and I can find a handsome wife of 
 excellent repute in Rome, as I have heard. She and her rela- 
 tives are ready to give me three thousand gold scudi as a 
 dowry, and I live in a house at Rome, and one hundred ducats 
 are worth more here than two hundred there; of this be as- 
 sured. 
 
 " As to my stay in Rome, I cannot live anywhere else for any 
 time, if only because of the building of St. Peter's, as I am in 
 the place of Bramante; but what place in the world is more 
 worthy than Rome, what enterprise more worthy , than St. 
 
114 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Peter's, which is the first temple of the world and the largest 
 building that has even been seen, the cost of which will exceed 
 a million in gold? And know that the Pope has ordered the 
 expenditure on that building of sixty thousand ducats a year, 
 and he never gives a thought to anything else. He has given 
 me a companion, a most learned old friar of more than eighty 
 years of age. The Pope sees that he cannot live long; he 
 has resolved to give him to me as a companion, for he is a 
 man of high reputation, and of the greatest acquirements, in 
 order that I may learn from him, and if he has any secret in 
 architecture that I may become perfect in that art. His name 
 is Fra Giocondo; and the Pope sends for us every day and 
 chats a little with us about the building. 
 
 " I beg you to be good enough to go to the Duke and Duchess 
 and tell them this, as I know they will be pleased to hear that 
 one of their servants does them honor, and recommend me to 
 them as I continually stand recommended to you. Salute all 
 my friends and relatives for me, and particularly Ridolfo, who 
 has so much love for me. 
 
 "The first of July, 1514. 
 
 " Your Raffael, painter in Rome." 
 
 The tone in which he discusses his marriage as a cold 
 matter of business is offensive to our sentiments; but such 
 is still the fashion in Latin countries. The death of Bib- 
 biena's niece saved Raphael from the necessity of marry- 
 ing her to avoid offending his powerful patron; and most 
 likely he was glad to retain his liberty. 
 
 This year of 1514 was one of extraordinary activity for 
 Raphael. Amongst other works, he painted for Chigi the 
 most decorative of all his pictures, the Sibyls of Santa 
 Maria della Pace. Nothing can be lovelier than this pic- 
 ture. Three of the sibyls are young and supremely beauti- 
 ful. Their attitudes are of perfect grace. They have not 
 the inspired and tragic look of Michelangelo's. They are 
 as serene as they are fair to look upon. The attendant 
 angels are ideals of childish beauty. The composition is 
 
RAPHAEL 115 
 
 perfect. Vasari, no mean judge, declares this to be the 
 most faultless of all the master's works. The prophets 
 above were painted for him by his old instructor Timoteo 
 Viti, now hfs disciple, and are much inferior. 
 
 It is said that when it was finished Raphael asked 900 
 ducats for the work. Chigi's cashier offered him 500. 
 Raphael proposed to submit the matter to the arbitration 
 of any artist in Rome. Knowing the strained relations be- 
 tween Raphael and Michelangelo, the cashier chose the lat- 
 ter. The great sculptor went to view the work, and point- 
 ing to the head of one of the sibyls said, " That head alone 
 is worth 100 ducats." " Then how much are the others 
 worth ? " asked the man of business. " They are worth 
 not less," replied Michelangelo. When the cashier reported 
 the result to the great banker, Chigi answered with a laugh, 
 " Pay him the 900 ducats at once, and be very polite, for 
 if he should charge us for the draperies, we should be 
 ruined." 
 
 Raphael was not less generous in speaking of his great 
 rival. He always said that he thanked God that he lived 
 in the same days as Michelangelo. The rough manners of 
 the latter made him many enemies, who were' continually 
 scheming to supplant him by Raphael ; but there is no proof 
 that Raphael was a party to any of these intrigues. 
 
 It is supposed that in this same year was painted the 
 most popular of all pictures, the Madonna delta Sedia. 
 It is the perfect embodiment of sane and wholesome moth- 
 erhood. There is about it nothing supernatural, nothing 
 but the love of a very beautiful young woman for her very 
 beautiful child; but it is perfect in its way, and goes 
 straight to every heart. No hand save his own touched 
 this masterpiece. 
 
 We know that it was about 15 14 that he painted the most 
 faultless of all his pagan works, the Triumph of Galatea in 
 the Farnesina Villa, which had just been built by the great 
 
ii6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 banker, and was then called the Villa Chigi. This picture 
 of Galatea floating upon her sea-shell attended by nymphs 
 and tritons breathes the very soul of Greek poetry. As a 
 picture it is perfect. As a decoration it is too small for 
 the immense room. It is said that when Michelangelo went 
 to see it he drew on the other wall a colossal head, and that 
 when Raphael returned he comprehended the rebuke, and 
 went no further with his scheme of decoration. The giant 
 head is still there to confirm the story. 
 
 About this time Raphael painted with his own hand the 
 Madonna of the Fish at Madrid. It was painted for the 
 church of San Domenico at Naples. In that city diseases 
 of the eyes are common, and so Tobit is introduced, holding 
 the fish that cured his father's blindness. It is a splendid 
 picture, strong and beautiful, but less charming than the 
 lovely little Madonna of the Lamb that hangs beside it, 
 painted when the master was a youth in Florence. 
 
 For Count Vincenzo Ercolani of Bologna Raphael de- 
 signed the greatest little pictures ever painted save the 
 Crucifixion of Albert Diirer, the Vision of Ezekiel. It 
 proves that grandeur of style is , not dependent on size. 
 This vision of God the Father, supported by the angel and 
 the three beasts of the Apocalypse, is one of the most sub- 
 lime conceptions. Unhappily the work of painting was en- 
 trusted to Giulio Romano, and the result is not entirely sat- 
 isfactory. 
 
 As soon as Raphael had finished the Camera d'Eliodoro, 
 Leo set him to work to decorate a third chamber, which has 
 since been called the Camera del Borgo for its principal pic- 
 ture, the Burning of the Borgo. In the year 847, during 
 the reign of Leo IV, the Borgo, the suburb about St. Peter's, 
 caught fire. Fanned by a violent wind, the flames threat- 
 ened the destruction of the venerable fane itself when by 
 his prayers the Pope checked their advance. Again Leo X 
 is glorified. Raphael gives his features to his great prede- 
 
RAPHAEL 117 
 
 cesser. The picture is of epic character. It is not a suburb 
 of medieval Rome that is burning; it is Troy. In Virgil 
 the master found his inspiration. In the composition, in 
 the drawing of the nude figures, it is a masterpiece. Un- 
 happily, Raphael, overwhelmed with work, had to leave its 
 execution to his pupils, and the workmanship is coarse. 
 The picture has been criticized because, though it is day- 
 light, the people are represented escaping scantily clad as 
 from their beds ; but if the fire occurred in the early hours 
 of a summer morning, that would be natural. 
 
 After Raphael's death Sebastian del Piombo painted over 
 some of the heads in this picture. But his presumption 
 met with speedy punishment. He was showing the Stanze 
 to the great Titian. When they reached this room the lat- 
 ter exclaimed indignantly, "Who is the arrogant and ig- 
 norant man who has dared thus to daub over these heads? " 
 It is said that the face of Sebastian became truly of lead 
 (piombo) beneath the rebuke. 
 
 Leo X again appears in the picture of the Defeat of the 
 Saracens by Leo IV, when the papal fleet, aided by a storm, 
 overwhelmed the invaders off the coast near Ostia. It re- 
 fers to a recent attempt of the Turks to invade Italy, which 
 had been defeated by a coalition under the Pope. Again 
 the fine design is unworthily rendered by pupils. 
 
 Before the other two walls were covered the political sit- 
 uation had changed. The French, led by their brilliant 
 young sovereign, Francis I, had invaded Italy, and on Sep- 
 tember 13 and 14, ISIS> at the battle of Marignano had 
 overwhelmed their foes. Leo was quick to accept the situa- 
 tion. He went to meet the conqueror, and threw himself 
 into his arms. Thus he not, only saved Florence to his 
 family, but the evil Lorenzo de' Medici was allowed to 
 wrest Urbino from Francesco Maria della Rovere, nephew 
 of the late Guidobaldo and its lawful sovereign. To cele- 
 brate the event, Raphael painted the Coronation of Charle- 
 
ii8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 magne by Leo III, giving to the monarch the features of 
 Francis I and to the Pope those of Leo X. The room was 
 completed with the Oath of Leo HI, when he refused to 
 be tried by Charlemagne and cleared himself of the 
 charges against him by his own oath. The application of 
 the picture to the existing conditions was obvious, and was 
 made more apparent by the inscription, " To God, not to 
 men, belongs the judging of bishops." As might be ex- 
 pected of works owing their origin to current policies, these 
 are the least interesting of the series and the worst painted. 
 The design, however, is as admirable as the subjects would 
 permit. It was 1517 when the work was completed, and 
 only three more years of the master's short life remained. 
 
 In this chamber Raphael spared the decorations which 
 he found upon the ceiling. They were the work of his old 
 master Perugino, and he would not allow sacrilegious hands 
 to be laid upon them. 
 
 It is fairly certain that when Leo went to Bologna to 
 meet the French King, Raphael was in his suite, and that 
 he then met Francia, who became his ardent friend and ad- 
 mirer. 
 
 In 1514 or 1515 Raphael painted for the Chapel of the 
 Saint in the Church of San Giovanni in Monte at Bologna 
 his famous picture of St. Cecilia. It was ordered by Cardi- 
 nal Pucci, papal datary, for a curious reason. The 
 cardinal's voice was so unmusical that when he intoned the 
 mass people were forced to laugh. Finally he prayed to 
 St. Cecilia, who inspired a singer in the Sistine choir to 
 teach him music in six months. In gratitude he ordered 
 the picture, which is one of Raphael's masterpieces. 
 Earthly instruments, even the organ in her hand, fall to 
 pieces as the angels sing to the enraptured Saint and her 
 attendants. 
 
 Raphael sent the picture to his friend Francia to hang. 
 According to Vasari, Francia died of vexation when he saw 
 
RAPHAEL 119 
 
 how far he was outdone. Nothing could be more improb- 
 able. Francia was a generous man, devoted to Raphael, 
 and the picture must have given him great pleasure. He 
 died shortly afterwards, but of the infirmities of age. 
 
 By a brief of August 23, 1515, Leo X gave Raphael au- 
 thority to inspect and" purchase all ruins within ten miles 
 of Rome, with a view to getting building stones for St. 
 Peter's ; charging him, however, to save all stones bearing 
 an inscription. The toaster entered upon his duties with 
 enthusiasm. Instead of converting the ruins into a quarry, 
 as so many of his barbarous predecessors had done and so 
 many of his still more barbarous successors were yet to do, 
 he formed the plan of making on paper a reconstruction of 
 ancient Rome in its pristine splendor. Thenceforth, ac- 
 companied by Bembo and other learned friends, he spent 
 a great part of his time amid the ancient buildings, then far 
 more numerous and complete than they are to-day, meas- 
 uring and planning, dreaming his glorious dream. 
 
 In 1516 Raphael decorated the bath-room of his friend 
 Cardinal Bibbiena in the Vatican with the triumphs of 
 Venus and Cupid. It is now deemed unbecoming for a 
 dignitary of the Church to have a bath-room so adorned, 
 and it is closed to the public. In those days no one saw" in 
 it any cause of offense, and Raphael's designs aroused uni- 
 versal admiration, as indeed they might. We know them 
 only by old drawings, but they are exquisite. Nothing 
 lovelier is to be found in Pompeii. In the Baths of Titus, the 
 Palaces of the Caesars and other ancient buildings there were 
 found decorations in the antique style quite similar to those 
 now familiar in Pompeii and Herculaneum. These sugges- 
 tions the master used in a way that would have excited the 
 admiration of the ancients, making a thing of exquisite 
 and dainty beauty. 
 
 Under his orders Giovanni da Udine and Francesco 
 Penni copied from antique originals that have now been 
 
I20 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 lost the lovely figures that are known as Raphael's Hours. 
 They are like the beautiful maidens that one sees floating 
 through the air on Pompeiian walls, but more charming 
 even than the best of these. 
 
 In 1 516 Raphael again, we may believe with reluctance, 
 returned to a painful subject, and for the Church of Lo 
 Spasimo at Palermo painted the picture of Christ falling 
 under the weight of the Cross that now adorns the Prado, 
 called Lo Spasimo di Sicilia. It is a powerful and realistic 
 picture. It had a strange adventure. On the way to 
 Palermo' the ship bearing it was lost with all on board. The 
 picture, securely boxed, floated uninjured into the port of 
 Genoa, and was hailed with frantic rejoicings as a miracle. 
 At last the good monks of Palermo heard what had become 
 of their picture, and demanded its surrender. The Genoese 
 refused; but finally they were compelled by the Pope to 
 give it up on payment of large salvage. 
 
 The design of Lo Spasimo is taken from the similar scene 
 in the Great Passion of Albert Diirer. The great Italian 
 and thq great German were friends and corresponded, 
 though they never met. Diirer sent Raphael his portrait, 
 painted on thin linen, so that it could be equally well seen 
 on both sides, and Raphael sent him a drawing that is still 
 preserved in the Albertina at Vienna, with an inscription in 
 Diirer's handwriting. 
 
 The last of Raphael's pictures of the Virgin and Child, 
 the Sistine Madonna, is the- greatest of all, and in the opin- 
 ion of the majority of men it is the greatest picture on 
 earth. In this presentation of the Mother of God appear- 
 ing upon the clouds with her divine child upon her arm 
 there is something so high and holy, so full of spiritual ele- 
 vation and intellectual power, that the most callous stand 
 awestruck before it. In the great, sweet eyes of the Ma- 
 donna, in the great, haunting, almost menacing eyes of her 
 son, who seems already to foresee the day when he shall 
 
RAPHAEL 121 
 
 come to judge the world, there is something that seems su- 
 perhuman and divinely inspired. 
 
 How he could have been induced to paint his masterpiece 
 for the obscure Sistine monks of Piacenza is a mystery. 
 Kings and the Supreme Pontiff, cardinals and dignitaries 
 of all sorts were clamoring for works by his hand, and 
 thankful to get something that he had designed and which 
 a pupil had put upon the canvas. Many, like the powerful 
 Duke of Ferrara, could not even get this, and were ex- 
 pressing their disappointment in passionate terms. The 
 beautiful Isabella d'Este, the uncrowned queen of the 
 Renaissance, was vainly appealing to him to finish the por- 
 trait of her son. Deaf to all their entreaties, which in the 
 Duke of Ferrara's case became menaces, he painted his 
 great masterpiece all with his own hand for an obscure 
 monastery in a provincial town. It is not surprising 
 that when this heavenly vision came before his mind's 
 eye he was not willing to trust another with its reali- 
 zation; but, having painted it, it is surprising that he did 
 not yield it to the Pope or to some of his illustrious 
 patrons. 
 
 Strange to say, no drawings for the Sistine Madonna are 
 known to exist. Possibly he painted directly on the can- 
 vas, so intense was the inward vision. 
 
 In 15 1 5 and 15 16 Raphael made the cartoons that are now 
 in South Kensington. Below the pictures on the walls of 
 the Sistine Chapel the space was bare. While St. Peter's 
 was being rebuilt all the great church functions were held 
 here, and the Pope wished tapestries made to be hung on 
 great occasions. Raphael was commissioned to make ten 
 designs, illustrating the Acts of the Apostles. The result 
 was ten great masterpieces, pictures that tell their story 
 with equal dignity and clearness. They were sent to Pieter 
 van Aelst at Brussels, who wove the tapestries. These were 
 first displayed .in the Sistin^ Chapel on D^c^mber 26, 
 
122 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 15 19. The cartoons remained at Brussels. Three of them 
 were lost, but Rubens bought the remaining seven for 
 Charles I. When the treasures of that unhappy monarch 
 were sold, they were purchased by Cromwell for the British 
 nation for i300. For each of the designs Raphael received 
 a thousand golden ducats, while the weavers received fif- 
 teen hundred for each of the tapestries. 
 
 In 1517 the master undertook to decorate the Loggia of 
 the Vatican. There were thirteen small domes, and in each 
 he caused to be painted four pictures from the Bible. These 
 are called the " Bible of Raphael." It is noteworthy that 
 while in his illustrations from Holy Writ Michelangelo had 
 chosen the terrible scenes, Raphael selects those that are 
 pleasant and cheerful. The work was under the charge of a 
 number of artists with Giulio Romano at their head. As 
 illustrations the pictures cannot be surpassed. No story 
 was ever better told. But the most delightful portion of the 
 work is the arabesques in stucco and paint executed under 
 the supervision of Giovanni da Udine. They were sug- 
 gested by the grotesques in the ruins of ancient Rome ; but 
 they are infinite in their variety and exquisite in their 
 beauty. The world furnishes no other such exhibition of 
 the play of fancy. One could study them for weeks with- 
 out exhausting their treasures. The work was prosecuted 
 with such diligence that it was finished in June, 15 19. It 
 constitutes the most wonderful piece of decoration on 
 earth. 
 
 For the loggia of Chigi's villa, now the Farnesina, Ra- 
 phael designed his delightful series of pictures illustrating 
 the myth of Cupid and Psyche. , The undertaking was fin- 
 ished in December, 15 18. Unhappily, save for one of the 
 Graces, which was painted by the master's own hand, the 
 work is that of his pupils, and the lovely designs have 
 been spoiled in the transcription. When it was opened to 
 view Leonardo Sellaio wrote to Michelangelo, "The ceil- 
 
RAPHAEL 123 
 
 ing of Agostino Chigi's villa, which has just been dis- 
 played, is a disgrace to the master, and worse, a great 
 deal, than the last of the Vatican chambers." It has since 
 been injured by Carlo Maratta's crude restoration; but 
 through all the faults of the bunglers the beauty of Raphael's 
 conception shines out. 
 
 For Chigi's chapel in Santa Maria del Popolo Raphael 
 designed the Creation of the Planets, which was carried out 
 in mosaic on the ceiling. In the center is God the Father. 
 Around him are the planets represented by ancient divini- 
 ties. This fashion of mixing Christian and pagan ideas 
 in a place of Christian worship now seems odd to us; but 
 it suited the tastes of the time. 7 
 
 Two of Raphael's greatest pictures were painted to be 
 sent by Lorenzo de' Medici as presents to the King of 
 France, as a bribe for his connivance in Lorenzo's evil de- 
 signs on Urbino. These were the great Holy Family 
 known as the Holy Family of Francis I and the St. Michael. 
 Both are now in the Louvre; and both, while drawn by 
 Raphael, were painted largely by Giulio Romano, whose 
 dark hues, hard outlines and metallic luster are only too 
 apparent. Yet despite the faults of their execution the 
 design and conception rank them among great masterpieces. 
 In none of his works are there types of more perfect beauty 
 than in the Holy Family, and the St. Michael is the most 
 beautiful youth ever painted by mortal brush. With what 
 serenity, with what godlike ease, does he overwhelm his 
 foe ! It is worthy to be placed beside the Apollo Belvedere. 
 Louis XIV, that master of effect, had it hung above his 
 throne, protected by shutters, which were opened to reveal 
 its glories when the monarch took his seat. The pictures 
 were finished on May 8, 15 18, and dispatched to France, 
 where they were hung in the pa^ace at Fontainebleau. The 
 better opinion is that the figure of St. Michael was painted 
 by the master's own hand. 
 
124 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Of these pictures the spiteful Sebastian del Piombo wrote 
 to Michelangelo: 
 
 " I am sorry that you should not have been in Rome to 
 see two pictures that have been sent to France. They are 
 by the Prince of the Synagogue (Raphael), and in a style 
 altogether contrary to your ideas. They contain figures 
 that look as if they had been smoked — figures that seem 
 to be made of shining steel — all light and dark. But they 
 have beautiful frames." 
 
 The last picture that Raphael painted was the Transfigu- 
 ration. It was ordered in 15 17, but was not quite finished 
 when the master died. The Cardinal Giulio de' Medici, 
 afterward Pope Clement VII, wishing to adorn the church 
 in Narbonne, of which he was the patron, ordered two 
 pictures, one of Sebastian del Piombo and one of Raphael. 
 The cunning prelate no doubt calculated that by pitting the 
 rivals against one another he would induce each to do his 
 best. Nor was he mistaken. Sebastian got Michelangelo 
 to aid him with the drawings, and produced promptly the 
 splendid Raising of Lazarus in the National Gallery. Ra- 
 phael, overwhelmed with commissions, was slow to get to 
 work. Finally he painted what used to be considered his 
 masterpiece, a very great picture, though not to be compared 
 with the Sistine Madonna. It has been justly criticized 
 for its lack of unity, the episode of the maniac boy in the 
 foreground having but a slight connection with the miracle 
 taking place on the mount. After the death of the master 
 the picture was deemed too precious, to be sent to a provin- 
 cial French town, and it was hung over the altar in San 
 Pietro in Montorio. It is now in the Vatican, in a room 
 recently designed for its reception. For this picture Ra- 
 phael made many drawings, no doubt moved by his anxiety 
 not to be outdone by his venomous adversary. 
 
 Before his death Raphael had planned the decoration of 
 the large hall adjoining the Stanze, now called the Hall 
 
RAPHAEL 125 
 
 of Constantine, and his designs were carried out in part, 
 at least, by his pupils when he had passed away. The 
 chief picture, representing the defeat of Maxentius at the 
 Milvian Bridge, called the Battle of Constantine, was cer- 
 tainly drawn by him. No one else could plan a battle 
 picture so full of varied action and yet so completely 
 welded into a whole, so full of passion and yet so rhythmical. 
 Constantine upon his splendid charger seems as irresistible 
 as the mounted angel who drives Heliodorus from the 
 Temple. 
 
 Foolish stories are told to account for Raphael's untimely 
 death. The real cause was the Roman fever, caught, as 
 many others have caught it, while he was studying the ruins 
 of ancient Rome, His constitution, never too strong, was 
 undermined by excessive labor. His duties as architect of 
 St. Peter's were enough for one man. His labors among 
 the ruins were likewise enough in themselves. In addition 
 he was designing houses, painting pictures and supervising 
 the labors of fifty subordinate artists. No matter what 
 was required, Raphael was called upon to do it. He even 
 designed the scenery for the theatrical representations in 
 which the Pope was interested, and was compelled to paint 
 upon the wall the life-sized portrait of the pontiff's deceased 
 elephant. No wonder that his health gave way. On March 
 29, 1520, he was taken sick. His frail body, worn out by 
 labors that would have wearied Hercules, needed strength- 
 ening nourishment to resist the assaults of the malady ; but 
 according to the barbarous practice of the time the physicians 
 bled him, and so drained away his vital forces. On April 6, 
 between nine and ten in the evening, he died. All Rome 
 was filled with mourning. The Pope wept bitterly. Ra- 
 phael's disciples were inconsolable. They placed his body in 
 state with the Transfiguration above his head. Everyone 
 flocked to take a last look at the beloved lineaments, so 
 wasted by disease but still so beautiful in the marble pallor 
 
126 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 of death. In Southern lands interments are prompt, and 
 next day he was buried in the Pantheon — Santa Maria Ro- 
 tonda, as it is ecclesiastically called — in the chapel which he 
 had prepared for himself. All the artists in Rome and 
 many, great dignitaries were in attendance. Cardinal 
 Bembo wrote his Latin epitaph, the last lines of which have 
 been thus happily translated: 
 
 " Living, great Nature feared he might outvie 
 Her works, and dying fears herself to die." 
 
 All the poets of Italy wrote verses in his honor. 
 
 Raphael left an estate of 16,000 ducats, equivalent to 
 $160,000 in our money. This he distributed among rela- 
 tives and friends by a will executed during his last ill- 
 ness. Provision, as we have said, was made for his in- 
 amorata. His drawings and the implements of his art 
 were left to his best beloved disciples, Giulio Romano and 
 Giovanni Francesco Penni, who carried out his contracts 
 as best they could. Then at last the poor nuns of Monte 
 Luce at Perugia received the picture for which they had 
 waited so long and on which they had made the first pay- 
 ment in 1505 ; but it was by the pupils' hands. 
 
 In 1833 his tomb was opened, and for a month his bones, 
 which were well preserved, were exposed to the public 
 gaze. Three casts of his head were made. Then he was 
 re-interred with great pomp, and we may hope that he will 
 henceforth sleep undisturbed beneath that stupendous dome 
 that he loved so much. 
 
rai 
 
 OA^ 
 
 From the portrait by himself, Ufflzi, Florence 
 
TITIAN 
 
 ' 1477-1576 
 
 I 
 EARLY YEARS 
 
 A FEW years ago no one doubted that Titian was born 
 in 1477, and that when he died in 1576 he was in his hun- 
 dredth year. We have his own explicit declaration to that 
 effect. Writing to Philip II on August i, 1571, he says: 
 " I feel assured that your Majesty's clemency will cause 
 a careful consideration to be made of the services of an 
 old servant of the age of ninety-five." It is true that old 
 men sometimes forget their age; but this could not have 
 been true of Titian, who preserved his faculties unim- 
 paired until the end. Recently, however, Mr. Herbert 
 Cook has adduced some very strong arguments for a lat^r 
 date, even urging that the master was not born until 1489 
 or 1490. Still, persuasive as he is, we do not feel that he 
 overcomes Titian's own evidence, and for the purposes of 
 this life we shall adhere to the old chronology. 
 
 Titian was fortunate in the place of his birth. He first 
 saw the light at Pieve di Cadore, one of the most beautiful 
 spots on earth, in the heart of the Dolomites, beside the 
 crystalline waters of the swift flowing Piave and beneath 
 the shadow of the sublime Antelao, one of the giants of 
 the land. It was a land poor in natural resources, but rich 
 in beauty, the home of a brave and hardy race. From the 
 scanty soil the inhabitants could wring only grain enough 
 to support them for three months of the year, and the most 
 imperative duty of the local government Avas the importa- 
 tion and storage of provisions. The inhabitants mostly 
 
 127 
 
128 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 earned their livelihood by felling the timber upon the 
 mountains and floating it down the Piave to Venice, or by 
 working in the now exhausted iron mines. 
 
 Titian came of an ancient race. When Cadore first 
 emerges into notice from the chaos of the Middle Ages it 
 was ruled over by counts of the name of Guecello, which 
 later became twisted into Vecelli or Vecellio, the surname 
 of the master. When the counts were succeeded by 
 podestas in 1321, the first podesta was also a Guecello. 
 We do not know that these were ancestors of the painter; 
 but there is every reason to believe that they were. As 
 far back as we can trace the family, it was a leading one 
 in the community. Its members were either lawyers or 
 soldiers. Titian's grandfather, Conte Vecelli, and his 
 father, Gregorio, were both among Cadore's most dis- 
 tinguished citizens. Gregorio, like most of the family, lived 
 to be very old, and when his son was in Venice winning an 
 immortality of fame, he was elected to a number of im-" 
 portant offices in his mountain home. 
 
 Cadore was for centuries an independent community; 
 but as larger and stronger states arose from the medieval 
 confusion, the time came when it had to choose between 
 the Empire and Venice. There could be no hesitation. 
 Its people were Italians, the Empire was Germanic. Venice 
 ruled justly, firmly and wisely with a consistent poUcy; 
 the Empire was continually falling into chaos and civil 
 war. So in 1420 Cadore gave itseli to Venice ; and though 
 this brought upon it from time to time invasions from the 
 North, it had no cause to rue its choice. In making its 
 submission to the Queen of the Adriatic it reserved its an- 
 cient rights, and privileges, and these Venice was wise 
 enough to respect. 
 
 Though he was of such ancient lineage, Titian's birth- 
 place was humble enough. It stands to-day, an unpre- 
 tentious house of wood and stone, two stories in height, 
 
TITIAN 129 
 
 th a small garden attached. Eminence in that poor land 
 ought no wealth. The name of Titian, or Tiziano, was 
 very common one in the family. Of his mother we only 
 ow that her name was Lucia. She bore another son, who 
 IS called Francesco, and who attained distinction both 
 
 a painter and a soldier. Whether he was older or 
 unger than Titian is disputed. There were also two 
 ughters, Orsola or Orsa, who remained single and for 
 any years presided over the master's household, and 
 iterina, who married and passed her days among her na- 
 ^e mountains. 
 
 Life was sweet at Cadore. Every breath of the pure 
 in air brought health and strength, and sent the blood 
 igling through the veins. Beauty and sublimity were on 
 ery side. We know that Titian loved his mountain home, 
 ich year after he had become established in Venice he 
 Duld'make the long, hard journey back to the scene of his 
 ildhood, and in the days of his wealth and power he would 
 ad the community money in times of scarcity, and would 
 pport his fellow citizens by his influence with the Vene- 
 in government. In nearly all of his pictures there is a 
 Dnderful landscape background, where his beloved Dolo- 
 ites loom sublime in the blue distance. >- 
 But if life was sweet there, it -vyas also hard. Only 
 
 tireless labor could a subsistence be wrung from the 
 ifertile soil, the steep forests or the gloomy mines. ~ 
 regorio was determined that his sons should have an 
 sier lot, and so when Titian was nine or^ten years old 
 ; took him to an uncle in Venice of whom we only know 
 at his name was Antonio. Francesco was also taken 
 ere, but whether at the same time we do not know. Both 
 ys must have manifested a capacity for art, for both were 
 prenticed as painters. 
 
 When Titian came to Venice about the year 1487 the 
 :y was at the height of its power and glory. Constant!- 
 
I30 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 nople had fallen before the Turks, and they were extending 
 their conquests; but Venice still possessed far-flung pos- 
 sessions in the East. Her navy ruled the seas, while her 
 mercantile marine poured into her lap the riches of the 
 Orient. Vasco da Gama had not yet rounded the Cape 
 of Good Hope and discovered the sea-route to the Indies. 
 The silken fabrics and the costly spices of Asia still found 
 their way to Europe by the Venetian quays. A large part 
 of the Italian mainland, embracing much fertile soil and 
 many opulent cities, had been subjected to her sway. She 
 rose from the waters a queen in beauty as in splendor. 
 Her marble palacK, now faded and defaced by time and 
 neglect, were new and brilliant. Upon her watery streets 
 and her picturesque squares all languages could be heard, 
 and the merchants of every land resorted to her markets to 
 buy and sell. The Golden Book had not yet been closed, 
 and the Venetian nobility had not yet become the narrow 
 oligarchy which it became after 1506. 
 
 All this wealth demanded art for its adornment. Venice 
 had been late in its development of a school of painting. 
 With their faces turned to the East, her priests and nobles 
 had preferred the mosaics of Bysantium and the gorgeous 
 fabrics and precious stones of the Orient to adorn their 
 palaces and churches. The native school of painting, de- 
 voted chiefly to 'altar-pieces in many sections fitted int^ 
 elaborate Gothic frames and with backgrounds of gold, was 
 stiff and archaic. At length, the Bellini arose, and for the 
 first time Venice had a pictorial art worthy of her great- 
 ness, though *the Vivarini continued to be active rivals 
 painting in the old style. Gentile Bellini was a strong man, 
 excelling in portraiture, perspective and the handling of 
 complex compositions — an eminent historical painter, 
 vigorous, truthful, but lacking in charm. His brother 
 Giovanni was a genius, whose works are characterized by 
 
TITIAN 131 
 
 exceeding grace and sweetness, by richness of color and 
 nobility of sentiment, with landscapes of striking beauty — 
 one of the world's great painters. 
 
 Probably Gregorio did not know much about painting 
 himself. When he brought the boy Titian to Venice he 
 placed him with Sebastiano Zuccato, whorn we know only 
 as a distinguished mosaicist. Zuccato had two sons who 
 followed his calling, and who in the years to come re- 
 mained the devoted friends of Titian. Probably Sebastiano 
 practised painting too in a modest way. Perhaps Gregorio 
 Jiad no higher ambition for his boy than to make of him a 
 worker in mosaics, which was, indeed, a profitable pro- 
 fession at Venice. We do not know how long Titian stayed 
 with Zuccato. We only know that he passed from his 
 workshop to the studio of Gentile Bellini, an excellent 
 place to learn firmness and precision of drawing and the 
 secrets of perspective. Nor do we know how long he 
 stayed with Gentile. We merely know that he went from 
 him to the abler teaching of his brother Giovanni, who was 
 then the foremost artist of Venice, and one of the leaders 
 in the art movement of the world. 
 
 When Titian came to Venice the old method of painting 
 in tempera^ which has given us so many strangely endur- 
 ing masterpieces, had fallen into disuse. Antonello da 
 Messina had brought from Flanders the new system of 
 painting in oil. Its superior facility and greater brilliancy 
 had commended it to the Venetian masters. The damp- 
 ness of the lagoons was fatal to fresco, and so oil painting 
 was the established style at Venice, and in its mysteries the 
 boy w^s instructed from the beginning. 
 
 Giovanni Bellini was not merely a great painter — he 
 was the prolific maker of masters. To his studio there 
 flocked all the young men of conspicuous talent from Venice 
 and the neighboring mainland. He was a just and worthy 
 
132 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 man, respected by the government and beloved by his schol- 
 ars. In his studio Titian met the best in art that Venice 
 could offer. 
 
 It is customary to contrast the art of Venice with that 
 of Florence, assuming that the latter was built upon 
 the study of antique models, the former from a direct 
 observation of nature. Nothing could be further from the 
 truth. tIic father of the Bellini had learned his art in 
 Florence. The sons were brought up in Padua, where 
 Squarcione had his famous school, at which the pupils were 
 taught to draw entirely from antique statues. Mantegna, 
 who was the most successful of all Renaissance painters 
 in reviving the art of Rome, was married to their sister. 
 They were themselves passionate collectors oi ancient mar- 
 bles. In many of Titian's early pictures as in those of 
 most of the Bellini's other pupils, we find beautiful bas-re- 
 liefs copied from the antique. Indeed, the art of Venice, 
 with its worship of beauty, its serenity, its sanity and health, 
 comes much closer to the true spirit of Greece than does 
 that of Florence. It may be sensuous ; but its sensuousness 
 is sane and wholesome, closely akin to that of Skopas and 
 Praxiteles, though with a more voluptuous charm. 
 
 What pictures Titian painted under Giovanni's influence 
 we do not know. Works of his youth may survive, going 
 by the name of his master or some of his fellow-pupils; 
 but they remain unidentified. We have nothing of the days 
 of his immaturity, as with Raphael. Titian first bursts 
 upon us a consummate master. 
 
 But if we can trace in Titian little influence of the 
 Bellinis, there was in Giovanni's workshop a young man 
 of about his own age who was destined to have a great 
 influence upon his development, Giorgione of Castelfranco. 
 
 Giorgio Barbarelli, called Giorgione (Big George), is 
 one of the greatest names in the history of art. He was 
 one of those original geniuses who open out a new path that 
 
TITIAN 133 
 
 other men will follow. He was the most luscious of paint- 
 ers. Beauty of a sweetly sensuous kind is the goddess 
 of his idolatry — beauty that exists for its own sweet sake 
 in an afternoon of summer that endures forever, where 
 the harshest sound is the music of a shepherd's pipe, and 
 the world is full of the languor of love's sweet satiety. It 
 is the enchanted land of Daphnis and Chloe, the region of 
 sweet pagan sensuousness where Keats lived and died. He 
 who would understand the soul of Giorgione's art should j 
 read the Ode to a Grecian Urn, where all its soft voluptuous 
 languor is imprisoned forever. 
 
 . Giorgione and Titian were friends, and the first work 
 of Titian's of which we have an authentic record is their 
 joint labor on the Fondaco dei Tedeschi. This was the ■ 
 great inn and exchange where the merchants of all north- 
 ern lands, called generally Tedeschi or Germans, lodged 
 and sold their wares. It was the property of the State. 
 In 1505 it was burned down, and the government at once 
 proceeded to rebuild it on a larger and more splendid 
 scale. It was finished in 1507, and Giorgione, Titian and 
 Morto da Feltre were employed to fresco its outer walls. 
 It seems incredible that an intelligent government should 
 have adopted such a method of decoration in a city whose 
 dampness made fresco impracticable even on the inside; 
 but so it was. Giorgione and Titian put upon this work, 
 destined so soon to perish, some of their choicest labor. 
 We know that the pictures were very beautiful and that 
 they were hard to understand. The Venetians were all 
 poor in allegory; or rather, their allegories were generally 
 incomprehensible, but supremely beautiful. And so it was 
 here. Vasari, accustomed to the clear-cut allegorical paint- 
 ing of Florence, could make nothing of them. 
 
 The contract was let to Giorgione, who took Titian as 
 his assistant ; and it is said that he quarreled with the latter 
 f>f>rniiap Viis w/nrk was the more admired. The stnrv ni the 
 
134 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 quarrel is most probably a mere invention. They must 
 have been friends when Giorgione died in 151 1 ; for Titian 
 completed the unfinished pictures in Giorgione's studio; 
 amongst others, adding to the glorious Sleeping Venus at 
 Dresden its landscape background and a Cupid that has 
 since been painted out. 
 
 These perished frescoes were, as we have said, Titian's 
 first authenticated productions. Yet we have other .pic- 
 tures that in all likelihood were produced at an earlier date. 
 It seems certain that the Jacopo Pesaro doing homage to 
 St. Peter at Antwerp was painted before August 18, 1503, 
 when Alexander .VI died. That pontiflf of evil memory 
 is shown presenting Pesaro to the Saint; and the Borgia's 
 crimes had aroused such detestation throughout the world 
 that it is most unlikely that anyone would put himself 
 under his patronage after his death. If the picture was 
 painted before that time it is a conclusive answer to Mr. 
 Cook's contention that Titian was born in 1489 or 1490; 
 for it is the work of an accomplished master, not of a boy 
 of thirteen or fourteen. It shows the influence of Gior- 
 gione rather than of Bellini, and the landscape, with its view 
 of sea and shore is masterly. 
 
 In the Scuola di San Rocco at Venice there is a Man of 
 Sorrows that is claimed to be Titian's earliest picture. It 
 is a poor thing, and there is no reason to believe that it is 
 by his hand. 
 
 \ Titian did take from Giovanni Bellini the preference for 
 presenting his Madonnas and Saints half length, which is 
 so conspicuous in his early works. Of these the Gipsy 
 Madonna of Vienna is believed to be one of the first. It 
 is a thing of exquisite beauty, with a delightful landscape, 
 and is painted in the style of Giorgione. There were also 
 a number of other Madonnas painted under the same in- 
 fluence, such as the Madonna with St. Anthony in the 
 Uffizi, the Madonna with St. Ulphus, at Madrid, and the 
 
TITIAN 135 
 
 Madonna with the Cherries at Vienna ; though in the latter 
 Titian is already developing his own style and type. 
 ^ In these pictures the young master fixes the type of 
 the Madonna to which he is to adhere to the end — a 
 woman in the full development of a rich and voluptuous 
 beauty, sane and wholesome, with nothing of the ascetic 
 or the devotee, a beautiful human mother rejoicing in her 
 motherhood. The models are often changed, her loveli- 
 ness is infinitely varied, but the essential type remains un- 
 altered to the end. Many regret, the absence of the divine 
 element that shines forth in the Madonnas of Raphael; 
 but art would be infinitely poorer were we robbed of 
 these glorious incarnations of the beauty of woman as she 
 is. 
 
 The Infant Christ is likewise always of the same type, 
 the worthy child of such a mother, as healthy as he is 
 beautiful, with none of the haunting power of him who 
 looks out at us from the arms of the Sistine Madonna, but 
 unsurpassable as a presentation of human chiTdHood. 
 Titian was a lover of children as he was of woman, and 
 he was content to accept both as God had made them, 
 deeming that their natural beauty was worthy of the Di- 
 vinity. 
 
 There was in the studio of Giovanni Bellini another 
 young man of about Titian's age who had a marked influ- 
 ence upon his artistic development, — Palma Vecchio. 
 Palma is one of the sweetest of all painters. His specialty 
 is the Sacra Conversazione, the Madonna and saints seated 
 in a smiling landscape. His women are supremely beau- 
 tiful, full, voluptuous and sweet, of the type of his Violante, 
 living in a land where it is forever June, where the grass is 
 forever green, the trees forever in verdure, the flowers 
 forever blooming, and where the birds sing forever to their 
 listening mates. At first the stronger personality of the 
 young Giorgione, who held among the pupils of BelUni 
 
136 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 the same position that Rossetti held among the Pre-Ra- 
 phaelites, maintained the ascendancy ; but there was a period 
 after his death when the influence of Palma was very 
 strong in Titian's work. 
 
 There are few things more difficult than to fix the order 
 oT Titian's pictures. Documents enable us to establish 
 an occasional landmark on his triumphal progress ; and 
 from these the critics try to fill in the dates of the others 
 by considerations of style. This is, of coiirse, fallacious. 
 An artist does not move forward continuously. Now he 
 makes an experiment in a new method, then he returns to 
 his former manner as easier or more appropriate to the 
 work in hand. . He moves like the tides, in waves that al- 
 ternately advance and recede. And in Titian's case the 
 problem becomes more difficult because of the great length 
 of time that pictures often remained in his studio, some- 
 times because he was not content with them, more fre- 
 quently because he was forced to put them aside for more 
 urgent commissions. So, we shall not attempt, as various 
 critics do, to assign a precise date to the pictures where 
 no documents are at hand. * One can in such cases do 
 little more than say that a work is in his early or his later 
 style. The pictures that he produced in his long life were 
 so numerous that though scarcely a third of them survive 
 only the greatest can be mentioned. Unhapily, numbers 
 of them were carried to Spain, that grave of masterpieces, 
 where most of them perished by conflagration or neglect. 
 
 Titian was a mighty painter both of men and women. 
 But there is an essential difference in his painting of the 
 sexes. For good or evil the characters of his men are in 
 their faces, though he has a tendency perhaps to lend them 
 something of his own dignity and self-restraint. In paint- 
 ing women their beauty is all that he seeks. In face and 
 form they are radiantly beautiful, always wholesome and 
 richly developed; but their countenances have usually the 
 
TITIAN 137 
 
 impassive serenity of a Greek goddess. He is the painter ( 
 of man's soul and of woman's body. > 
 
 In the old days it was the fashion to place the Madonna 
 in the center of the .picture with saints on either hand. 
 Bellini always does this. Titian speedily abandoned that 
 stiff conception. He placed the Madonna at one side, and 
 thus acquired great freedom of composition, resulting in the 
 most delightful groupings, such as in the Pesaro Madonna 
 or the Holy Family at Dresden. . 
 
 Some of Titian's greatest works were painted in these 
 early days under the magic spell of Giorgione's influence. 
 The Concert in the Pitti is so like Giorgione that until 
 Morelli's day it was attributed to that master. There are 
 but three men, shown at half length; in the center a man 
 past the flush of youth playing the harpsichord, to the left 
 a very young man who looks on with youth's self-absorption, 
 to the righf an old man intently listening with something 
 of the callousness of age. Th e glory of the picture is in 
 the face of the man who plays, the most mag ni ficent exem- 
 plification of the transfiguring power of music to be found 
 in all the range of art. It is supposed to have been painted 
 about 1510. 
 
 Then there is the Baptism of Christ in the Capitol, painted 
 for Giovanni Ram about the same time, where the Jordan 
 flows through a beautiful verdant landscape, and St. John 
 looks like a young Bacchus; and the Christ appearing to 
 Mary Magdalen in the National Gallery, with its magnifi- 
 cent, far;-reaching prospect. 
 
 The J%.ree Ages of Man in the Bridgewater Gallery is 
 the most Giorgionesque of all his works. In the foreground 
 a beautiful maiden pipes to a nude youth upon whose knee 
 she rests ; a little farther off two babes sleep while a Cupid 
 piays about them ; in the distance an old man contemplates 
 a skull ; while the low-lying land stretches away to the dis- 
 tant horizon. 
 
138 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 It was in these early days, probably about 1512, that 
 Titian painted for some unknown person what is perhaps 
 the most beautiful picture in all the world unless it be the 
 Sleeping Venus at Dresden, the picture in the Borghese at 
 Rome that men call the Sacred and Profane^Love. In an 
 enchanted landscape upon the marble rim^of a fountain sit 
 two women of surpassing loveliness, one richly clothed, who 
 looks pensively into the distance, the other nude, with glance 
 turned to her companion, while between them a Cupid plays 
 in the water. Like most Venetian allegories, it is hard to 
 understand. Some think it is an illustration of the Pervi- 
 gilium Veneris, some that it represents Artless and Sated 
 Love, some a scene in the Forest of Ardennes taken from 
 Ariosto; but the mo stjlausible solution se ^r"" *"■ ^6 ^^"t 
 offered by Prof. Wykoff that it is Venus persuading Medea 
 to fly with Jason, or, as has been suggested later, Venus 
 persuading Helen to fly with Paris. But it matters little 
 what it means. The fact remaips that earth has seen noth- 
 ing more beautiful, perhaps nothing that is so fair. The 
 Venus is the most perfect type of the golden blonde that 
 was ever painted, just as Giorgione's masterpiece is the most . 
 perfect of all of darker type ; and he who has not seen the 
 picture can have no conception of its marvelous execution, of 
 how the light caresses the exquisite blonde flesh and lingers 
 upon the lovely face. It is pure in form as a statue of Praxit- 
 eles, but palpitating with a vital glow that only a Venetian 
 brush can give. The picture is finished to an ultimate per- 
 fection, every detail, from the bas-relief upon the fountain's 
 rim to each flower that decks the grass, being rendered with 
 loving care. The landscape is far-reaching and richly varied. 
 In every aspect it is an unsurpassable achievement. In this 
 picture and in the Venus of Giorgione the great pagan 
 revival, the renewed joy in the beauty of earth and of 
 woman which was the chief gift of Venice to the world, 
 finds its best expression. It carries us back to the golden 
 
TITIAN 139 
 
 days of Greece, when the gods wooed the daughters of 
 men, when the fairest of goddesses accepted the caresses 
 of a mortal lover. The passionate love of beauty for its 
 own sake, the gladness of the sunlight, the bliss of simple 
 existence in a world where all is fair, where the sense of 
 sin is unknown and sorrow is afar off, are here depicted with 
 a mastery never known before or since. This and Gior- 
 gione's picture, painted, no doubt, about the same time, 
 mark the golden moment of the pagan reviv al, when the 
 joy of life was strong in the youthful masters, and sick- 
 ness and grief had not yet come with their saddening 
 touch. 
 
 In 1508 hard times set in for the Venetian artists. In 
 an evil hour for the Republic Julius II formed the League 
 of Cambrai, uniting all Europe for her destruction. From 
 all sides her territories were invaded, and the shameful 
 spectacle was presented of the head of the Christian Church 
 leading a crusade for the overthrow of Christendom's chief 
 bulwark against the Ottomite advance. Engaged in a death 
 struggle for her very existence, Venice had neither time nor 
 money to expend upon the arts. So her painters scattered, 
 seeking employment in the mainland cities. Titian went to 
 Padua^we do not know exactly when; but in 151 1 we find 
 him there, frescoing in the Scuola del Carmine and the 
 Scuola del Santo in company with Domenico Campagnola. 
 The frescoes still remain to speak for themselves. They 
 have been much admired ; but we confess our inability to 
 share the admiration. Titian had, had no training in fresco 
 save such as he acquired on the walls of the Fondaco dei 
 Tedeschi. It does not admit of the elaborate finish and 
 repeated glazings that constitute the charm of his works 
 at this time. The subjects, too, were unsuited to his brush. 
 We feel that if these frescoes had perished, like those of 
 the Fondaco, his fame would not have been less. Perhaps 
 they suffer, too, from his haste to get back to Venice, as 
 
I40 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 the League was breaking up and brighter days were dawn- 
 ing. 
 
 On his return Titian found himself the foremost of Vene- 
 tian painters. Giorgione had just died, and BeUini was 
 very old. Bembo, who was then in Venice, greatly admired 
 his works, and when he went back to Rome he persuaded 
 Leo X, whose ambition it was to gather about him all the 
 artistic and literary genius of Italy, to send for the master. 
 The offer was a tempting one. Rome was then the world's 
 center, as it had not been since the days of Constantine, 
 and as it was never to be again. In the papal chair there 
 sat the most generous of all patrons of the arts. Yet Titian 
 was loath to go. He loved Venice and he loved yet more 
 his mountain home, which was not too far away for 
 an annual visit. But he felt that if he were to renounce 
 the splendid opportunity held out to him, the city should 
 do something in return. 
 
 At that time the Venetian government had an easy way 
 of pensioning its artists at the expense of others. No 
 foreigner could trade in the city save through a native 
 broker. A broker's patent was therefore a lucrative thing, 
 and as the duties of the office could be discharged through 
 subordinates or substitutes, it was a simple way of attaching 
 artists to the service of the state. 
 
 So, on May 31, 1513, Titian addressed to the government 
 a petition, advising it of his call to Rome, and asking that 
 he be accorded the first broker's patent that should fall 
 vacant, with -pay for two assistants; offering in exchange 
 to paint the great battle picture for the Hall of Grand Coun- 
 cil in the Doge's Palace. Fearful of losing him, the govern- 
 ment granted his request, and he set to work with his two 
 assistants on the promised picture. 
 
 This raised a storm of protest. Various other artists 
 had promises of brokerships, and if Titian was to receive 
 the first that fell vacant, they must wait. They brought 
 
 MM 
 
TITIAN 141 
 
 such pressure to bear that on March 20, 15 14, the Council 
 of Ten revoked the decree in Titian's favor, and ceased to 
 pay his assistants. Work on the battle-piece was naturally 
 discontinued. 
 
 But they little reckoned with the resolution and persist- 
 ence of the master. On November 28, 1514, he asked for 
 the reversion of the broker's patent held by Giovanni Bel- 
 lini, and which must soon fall vacant owing to Bellini's 
 great age. This was worth 100 ducats per annum, and with 
 it there went an exemption from taxes worth from 20 to 
 25 ducats. It carried with it the obligation to paint the 
 ofificial portrait of each succeeding doge for the nommal 
 price of eight ducats. Titian did not stop here. The 
 painters working in the Hall of Grand Council, who had 
 formed the cabal against him, had shamefully abused their 
 opportunities. So he stirred up an investigation. The 
 commission appointed, headed by Francesco Valier, made a 
 scathing report, showing that as much as 700 ducats had 
 been paid for pictures that had scarcely been begun. All 
 the painters working in the hall were ignominiously dis- 
 missed. Then Titian on January 18, 1516, offered to do the 
 great battle-piece for 400 ducats. His offer was accepted ; 
 but the price was reduced to 300 ducats. 
 
 One would think that after this signal triumph Titian 
 would have set vigorously to work upon the picture, to put 
 his enemies to shame and to secure the favor of the govern- 
 mefat, which had in its power so many lucrative commis- 
 sions. Quite the contrary. Despite repeated remonstrances 
 from the Council, he did nothing. At last on August 11, 
 1522, the Council advised him that his patent would be 
 taken away if he di4 not finish the picture. Then, to save 
 his patent, he completed a picture of Frederick Barbarossa 
 kissing the Foot of the Pope in the Presence of the Doge 
 and Council, which Giovanni Bellini had begun. It was 
 only in 1537, twenty-one years after the work had been un- 
 
/ 
 
 142 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 dertaken, and when his broker's patent had been taken away, 
 and repayment had been demanded of the 1800 ducats that 
 he had received, that he finally finished the work, and so 
 secured a restoration of the patent and a remission of the 
 demand. 
 
 A strange fatality pursued the four great battle-pieces of 
 the Renaissance. Leonardo's Battle of the Standard was 
 only begun upon the wall and Michelangelo's Battle of Pisa 
 was not even begun. The great cartoons, which were the 
 admiration of the world, have perished utterly. Raphael 
 died when he had made the drawing for his Battle of Con- 
 stantine, and the work was carried out by his pupils. 
 Titian's picture was destroyed by the fire that consumed 
 the Hall of Grand Council in 1577, a year after his death. 
 We know it only by drawings, a poor copy in oil of a part, 
 and by a print. It was esteemed a masterpiece, and we can 
 believe it. The subject was one to arouse him to the exer- 
 cise of his highest powers — the victory of his fellow coun- 
 trymen of Cadore over their ancient enemies, the Imperial- 
 ists, amid the scenes of his birth. The mountain landscape, 
 with the raging storm that so well accords with the fury of 
 the combatants, must have been surpassingly fine. 
 
 II 
 
 THE PAINTER OF PRINCES , 
 
 About the year 15 16 Titian became connected with the 
 first of his long line of princely patrons, Alfonso d'Este, 
 Duke of Ferrara. He was an eminent soldier, who ex- 
 celled in the casting and handling of cannon, so that his 
 artillery was the best in Europe. Sorely against his will he 
 had married Lucretia Borgia, as the only means of saving 
 his small principality from the rapacity of her brother 
 
TITIAN 143 
 
 Caesar and her father Alexander VI. She came to him as 
 " a somewhat battered bride," but to his surprise she proved 
 a faithful wife, an intelligent patroness of art and letters 
 and a wise regent of the State during his frequent absences 
 in the field. He soon learned to respect her and perhaps to 
 love her. Though he was fond of art, Alfonso's manners 
 were rough. He expected to command painters as he would 
 soldiers, and when they failed to fill his commissions, he 
 indulged in threats and abuse. The extensive correspond- 
 ence with his agents at Rome in the vain attempt to get a 
 picture from Raphael is amusing in the violence of his de;- 
 mands and the smiling excuses of the busy artist. With 
 Titian he was at first almost equally peremptory, but more 
 successful. Some of the master's greatest works were 
 painted for the adornment of his grim Castello. 
 
 Among these was the Tribute Money at Dresden. This 
 is the greatgst picture of Christ that was evfer painted. The 
 nobility of the face has never been equaled. Its expression 
 of gentle rebuke as he answers the cunning Pharisee is 
 incomparable. No other picture of Titian's is finished with 
 such care. Albert Durer was then at Venice, and it is said 
 that Titian painted the Tribute Money to show that a 
 minuteness of detail equal to Diirer's could be combined 
 with a breadth of general effect such as was beyond the / 
 reach of the great German. ^ 
 
 Titian painted several portraits of Alfonso, one of which v 
 is now in the Prado; but there is no record of his having 
 painted Lucretia. Six months after her death in 15 19, Al- 
 fonso became attached to Laufa Dianti, the beautiful daugh- 
 ter of a citizen of Ferrara, and it is believed that he mar- 
 ried her. Certainly she was treated as a duchess. She was 
 as lovely in character as she was beautiful, and her influ- 
 ence on Alfonso was all for good. She softened the as- 
 perity of his manners. After his union with her his letters 
 to Titian and to others acquire a different tone. He loved 
 
144 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 her till he died, and for her sake he gave up his passion for 
 war, which would have taken him from her side, and de- 
 voted himself to the arts of peace. It is believed that we 
 have a portrait of her in the picture of the radiantly beauti- 
 ful woman in the Louvre to whom a man holds a mirror^ 
 which used to be called Titian and his Mistress. 
 
 It is difficult to fix the dates of the numerous works that 
 Titian painted for Alfonso; but it is thought that the 
 Homage to Venus in the Prado was the first. It is a 
 radiant picture, illustrating a passage from Philostratus. 
 In the Garden of the Hesperides stands a statue of Venus, 
 to which two lovely nymphs make their offering; but the 
 life of the scene is in the innumerable delightful children 
 who are playing upon the ground or gathering the golden 
 apples from the trees. They are perhaps the most fas- 
 cinating bambini ever painted, more realistic than those of 
 Correggio, firmer in their flesh than those of Rubens. The 
 picture was one of those adorning the famous Alabaster 
 Chamber in the Castello. 
 
 About 1518 Titian painted for Alfonso the exquisite 
 Bacchanal now in the Prado. Of all the pictures represent- 
 ing me exhilaration of the wine-cup, this is the most beauti- 
 ful. All of it is enchanting. It is less passionate, more re- 
 strained than the Bacchanalian scenes of Rubens. In all the 
 range of art there is no more perfect figure than that of 
 the' nymph who, overcome by wine, lies sleeping in the 
 foreground. On a scroll one reads, " Chi boist et ne reboit 
 ne qais qua boir soit." 
 
 But the most glorious of all the pictures painted for Al- 
 fonso was the Bacchus and Ariadne now in the National 
 Gallery. This was completed early in 1523 to illustrate a 
 poem by Catullus, and is one of the world's richest treasures. 
 The god, in his chariot drawn by panthers, finds the maiden 
 on the shore, and leaps from the car in her pursuit, while 
 behind him are his joyous followers, maddened by his gift. 
 
TITIAN 145 
 
 The young satyr who leads the procession is the most won- 
 derful picture of the archness and playfulness of childhood 
 that was ever painted. This picture completed the decora- 
 tion of- the Alabaster Chamber. Surely when it hung there 
 with the Bacchanal and the Homage to Femes, all in their 
 fresh splendor, the world contained no lovelier room. 
 
 If, as is generally supposed, the charming portrait in the 
 National Gallery be that of Ario^to, we owe this, too, to the 
 patronage of Alfonso and the master's frequent visits to 
 Ferrara. 
 
 Among the portraits of these early days are some of 
 Titian's greatest masterpieces, such as the Physician Parma 
 at Vienna, the Man with the Glove and the Man in Black 
 in the Louvre and the Young Englishman in the Pitti. They 
 are all characterized by great dignity and reticence and by 
 the care bestowed upon the hands. They are the models on 
 which Van Dyck formed his style. These marvelous por- 
 traits jusS5y the eulogy that Aretino penned of the like- 
 ness that the master made of Gonzalo Perez, " Titian, in 
 painting you, will annihilate the claims that death has upon 
 your person." 
 
 Meantime, about 1515, Titian painted for some u nkno wn 
 patron the glorious Holy Family of Dresden, one of the 
 most magnificent and perhaps the best preserved of all his 
 works — the one which perhaps , giVes us the best idea of 
 the surpassing splendor of his color when in its pristine 
 freshness. It is hard to say whether one should prefer the 
 richly developed beauty of the Madonna or the more deli- 
 cate loveliness of the Magdalen. Yet, beautiful as is this 
 work, it hax41y surpasses the Madonna with St. Catherine 
 in the National Gallery, with its far-reaching view up the 
 valley, stretching away to the distant mountains, one of the 
 fingst landscapes ever painted even by Titian, and the great- 
 est of his pictures painted in the style of Palma Vecchio. 
 
 The perfection of this landscape leads us to speak of 
 
146 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Titian's achievements in that line. He is justly called the 
 fathpr of modern landscape. Reared amid mountains which 
 are among the most beautiful in the world, he was a pas- 
 sionate lover of nature. And few have had such opportuni- 
 ties to study her charms. In his annual visits to Cadofe 
 he witnessed the wholie of her glorious pageant from the 
 exquisite tones of the Adriatic, the low lying marshes of 
 the shore, the fertile plains gradually giving place to verdant 
 foothills, and so to the mighty Dolomites with their riven 
 peaks, their solemn forests and their waters, now rushing 
 in foaming torrents, now spread out in bottomless lakes re- 
 flecting the mountains and the sky. He witnessed every de- 
 lightful or sublime aspect of nature, and he transferred 
 them all to the canvas with equal skill. But much as he 
 loved the mountains, he realized that close at hand they cut 
 off the view, and that thdr finest effect in a picture is upon 
 the distant horizon, wherjiithey lend a majesty to the scene. 
 And so, in a majority of his compositions his native peaks 
 are shown far. away, while between them and the spectator 
 there stretches a region of varied loveliness. 
 
 As a cAorist the world has justly yielded to Titian the 
 forxmost place. Others of the Venetians rival him in par- 
 ticular qualities ; Bellini is at times sweeter, Giorgione more 
 luscious, Tintoretto more startling, Paul Veronese more orig- 
 inal, Lorenzo Lotto more subtle, Bonif acci9 brighter ; but in 
 his mastery of the whole field of color, in his unerring sense 
 of harmony between the subject and the tones to be used in 
 its presentation, the master is supreme. Only Rjjjjens, the 
 giant of the North, can stand beside him ; and most persons 
 prefer the rich, glowing tones of the great Venetian to the 
 brilliant splendor of the mighty Fleming. 
 
 It was probably in 1515 that he painted the marvelous 
 Flora of the Uffizi, a presentment of woman in the full 
 bloom of the beauty that has nev,er been surpassed, perhaps 
 never equaled. She is faultless as a statue by Praxiteles, 
 
TITIAN 147 
 
 but with a rich luxuriance of charms alien to Greek concep- 
 tions. She seems to have been painted from the same 
 model as the Laura Dianti of the Louvre. 
 
 About the same time was painted the lovely Venus 
 Anodyomena of the Bridgewater Gallery, where we see 
 Venus rising from the sea, wringing the water from her 
 abundant hair. 
 
 While the master was painting these pictures, which are 
 the most glorious apotheosis that we have of the pagan 
 spirit, where the soul of Greece wakes again after the sleep 
 of ages, more voluptuous and perhaps more beautiful than 
 before, he was also producing the greatest of his religious 
 works,, the greatest of all religious pictures save the Last 
 Supper and the Sisiine Madonna — his magnificent As- 
 sumption of the Virgin in the Academy at Venice. There 
 will forever live in the human breast the spirit of that 
 Athenian who was tired of hearing Aristides called "the 
 Just"; and so there is no want of up-to-date critics who 
 like to gird at this glorious work. But they will pass away, 
 while it will endure, let us hope, forever. Fronj her empty 
 tomb the Virgin rises, a middle aged woman in the grand 
 maturity of her ripe development. Beneath, the Apostles 
 look up overwhelmed with wonder, while above, in the 
 blinding light^of heaven, God the Father descends to meet 
 her. Around her are countless angels of surpassing loveli- 
 ness, conspicuous among whom the three young girls upon 
 the right are perhaps the most beautiful girl faces that were 
 ever painted. Fortunately it has been removed from the 
 dim light of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, over whose 
 high altar it was hung on March 20, 1518, and transferred 
 to the Academy, where it can be seen in the full light of 
 day. Of this picture Taine says: "Venetian art centers 
 in this work, and perhaps reaches its climax," while La- 
 f enestre says : " Never as yet had the genius of Venice, 
 healthy, abounding, free, joyous, found such full vent." 
 
148 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 When we consider the majesty of the Virgin, the power of 
 the Disciples, the beauty of the encircling angels, the glory 
 of light and color, the perfect unity of the composition, it is 
 apparent that we stand in the presence of one of the world's 
 supreme masterpieces. Nearly all the great masters at- 
 tempted this subject; but Titian's presentation maintains 
 the same supremacy as Leonardo's in the field of the Last 
 Supper. When we think of the Madonna ascending into 
 heaven, it is this scene that ever unfolds itself before the 
 mind's eye. 
 
 Some say that the Apostles are too agitated; but surely 
 if agitation were ever excusable it would be when one loved 
 to adoration was lifted from their midst and borne aloft 
 amid the chanting of the angelid choir. It is said, too, that 
 the Virgin is too mature. She must at this time have been 
 past forty, and it would have been as inartistic as untrue to 
 have a slender girlish figure as the center of this vast and 
 powerful composition. Of course, like all things human, 
 the picture is not perfect ; but there are few that approach 
 closer to perfection. 
 
 The next year saw the completion of the Annunciation 
 at Treviso, a splendid work strangely disfigured by the in- 
 troduction of the , donor, Malchiostro, canon of the Ca- 
 thedral, who, looking like a grotesque old woman, peeps 
 ludicrously from behind a corner at the wonderful event. 
 
 In 1 5 19 Jacopo Pesaro, bishop of Paphos, whence he was 
 called " Baflo," the man who had given Titian when a rising 
 young painter the commission for the picture at Antwerp, 
 again employed him, this time to paint a majestic altar- 
 piece where all the family of the Pesaros should be depicted 
 doing homage to the enthroned Madonna. The result was 
 one of Titian's great masterpieces. Seated upon the steps 
 of a lofty temple, the Virgin looks down at the worthy 
 bishop, now a man of middle age, while opposite him kneel 
 
TITIAN 14a 
 
 the members of his house. It was a picture that had an 
 immense influence on later Italian art, introducing the 
 stately architectural style in which Paul Veronese was to 
 excel, though with a lofty seriousness that Veronese never 
 equaled. Like most of the pictures in Venetian churches, 
 it is dirty and ill kept, so that much of its glory has de- 
 parted, at least until it shall be cleaned and varnished; but 
 still it is one of the noblest of religious pictures. We say 
 religious, not devotional. Titian was never a devotional 
 painter, like Perugino, for example. His sacred pictures are 
 not to be taken into one's oratory as an aid to devout 
 thoughts. They are intended as ornaments of grand re- 
 ligious functions conducted with solemn magnificence as a 
 part of the exercises of government. Considered in that 
 light, they serve their purpose admirably, and none of them 
 better than the Pesaro Madonna. It is a marvel of compo- 
 sition. She sits enthroned on the right side ; but every line 
 leads the eye to her. 
 
 In this year of 15 19 Titian went to Mantua with Dosso 
 Dossi to see its famous treasures of art; but he was not 
 presented at court. 
 
 In 1520 we find Titian involved in the only really dis- 
 creditable transaction that we can lay up against him. He 
 had contracted to paint a great altar-piece, still in the church 
 of SS. Nazaro e Celso at Brescia, in five sections. One of 
 these represented a St. Sebastian, a powerful figure sinking 
 in the agony of death, but held up by the cord about his right 
 arm. The description of this by Alfonso's agent so in- 
 flamed the cupidity of the Duke that he demanded that 
 Titian sell it to him, and paint a replica for the Brescians. 
 At first Titian refused, but finally yielded, whether through 
 fear of offending so powerful a patron or tempted by the 
 extra 60 ducats that he offered, we cannot say. Fortunately 
 Alfonso finally dared not incur the enmity of the Cardinal 
 
ISO THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Legate, who had ordered the picture, and renounced his 
 claims, so that nothing came of the matter save a stain on 
 the fair fame of both. 
 
 In 1523 another princely patron was added to the mas- 
 ter's list. Alfonso introduced him in most flattering terms 
 to his nephew Federigo Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua. The 
 son of Isabella d'Este, the Marquis had been brought up 
 among beautiful things, and had inherited from his accom- 
 plished mother a taste for the arts. For him Titian painted 
 the Entombment of the Louvre, a sad masterpiece of pas- 
 sionate beauty — somewhat gloomy and somber, as became 
 the mournful event, but rich in its deep coloring, united in 
 its composition and full of sympathy; less academic and 
 more moving that) Raphael's version of the same theme in 
 the Borghesei 
 
 At this time Titian was living in an irregular union with 
 a woman of whom we know nothing except that her name 
 was Cecilia and that she was the daughter of a barber of 
 Cadore. She bore him two sons, Pomponio, who was to be 
 the plague of nis life, and Orazio, the comfort of his declin- 
 ing years. In 1525^ she was taken seriously ill. Fearing 
 that she might die and leave upon their children the stigma 
 of illegitimacy, Titian married her. Afterward she bore 
 him a daughter named Lavinia, who was the jojr of his 
 heart. Cecilia died in 1530, and was buried on August 5 
 of that year, to the master's sincere sorrow. No doubt she 
 was a good woman, for a strong and a just man loved her. 
 When she had passed away, Titian sent for his sister Orsa, 
 who came and took charge of his household, and brought 
 up his orphaned children. 
 
 At this period of his life Titian was often sick. His 
 own letters and those of others frequently speak of attacks 
 of fever. No doubt the malaria of the lagoons had gotten 
 into his blood, and there was then no quinine to cure it. 
 
TITIAN 151 
 
 Eventually his strong constitution cast off the poison, and 
 his later days were healthy. 
 
 The year 1527 was an important one for Titian; for in 
 March of that year there came to Venice the strange man 
 who was to be the master's most intimate friend, and to be 
 of infinite service in his dealings with the great of earth. Es- 
 caping from Rome, where he was threatened with punish- 
 ment for his disgraceful Sonnetti Lussuriosi, Pietro Aretino, 
 " the Scourge of Princes," foimd a refuge in Venice. He 
 was a marvelous creature. Of a robust constitution and 
 unbridled sensuality, he was possessed of infinite cunning 
 and unparalleled effrontery. Among all the men who have 
 lived by blackmail and sycophancy he is easily the chief. 
 In some way he possessed himself of the shameful secrets 
 of all the great men of his time, and compelled them to pay 
 him tribute. If they gave him what he asked, he published 
 letters and sonnets in their praise; if not, secure in his 
 Venetian retreat, he poured forth upon them the phials of 
 his wrath, revealing to the world their most secret sins. 
 Of him the bitter epitaph was written: 
 
 " Questo e Pietro Aretino, poeta tosco, 
 Che d' ogni un disse male, eccetto che di Dio, 
 Scusandosi con dir, non lo conosco.'' 
 
 " This is Pietro Aretino, the venomous poet. 
 Who spoke ill of everyone except of God, 
 Excusing himself by saying, ' I do not know Him.' " 
 
 On the proceeds of his audacious blackmail he lived like 
 a prince in a palace on the Grand Canal, where he enter- 
 tained with lavish hospitality; so much so that on one oc- 
 casion some strangers in the city entered his house and 
 commanded wine, thinking that they were at an inn — an 
 occurrence that afforded him much amusement. The 
 writer of' the " Ragionamenti," the most disgustingly indecent 
 
152 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 book that was ever printed, he must at all times have been 
 foul-mouthed; but the great of the earth dared not refuse 
 his invitations, and his banquets were attended by hosts of 
 distinguished men. No doubt they were very entertaining. 
 Aretino was a brilliant talker, full of repartee and of amus- 
 ing, if not always modest, anecdotes ; and the festal board 
 was always graced by a number of beautiful women whose 
 easy virtue laid no restraint upon the company. He was 
 also a good judge of art. He had even practised painting 
 in his youth ; and a, description of a sunset which we find 
 in -one of his letters to Titian reveals a feeling for nature 
 and a graphic power rare in the literature of the period. 
 
 Titian was at this time a man of fifty, tall, strong, digni- 
 fied in manner, accustomed to courts and the society of the • 
 best. What drew the master to this brigand of the pen 
 we do not know; but shortly after Aretino's arrival in 
 Venice Titian painted his portrait, which Aretino sent as a 
 present to Federigo Gonzaga on June 22, 1527. Soon they 
 became inseparable companions and devoted allies. Are- 
 tino, who had the genius of the journalist more highly de- 
 veloped than anyone that ever lived unless it be Voltaire, 
 was known throughout Europe. From one end to the other 
 his letters flew, now dripping venom, now steeped in adula- 
 tion./ When Titian would paint a picture, Aretino would 
 write an epistle or a sonnet in its praise, and all Europe 
 would long to see the work. In the personal letters that 
 he was continually writing to monarchs and great men, he 
 would usually slip in some words in praise of his friend. 
 Titian, on his part, alwa)^ had a picture on hand when 
 Aretino needed it as a gift to one in authority. False to 
 everyone else, Aretino was true to Titian to the end, though 
 in a few cases his disposition to speak evil overcame him, 
 and he spoke unkindly of his friend. If we wish to know 
 how he looked, we have only to go to the Pitti, where he 
 stands forever limned by Titian's veracious brus6; and we 
 
TITIAN 153 
 
 can see the strong man whose gluttony and sensuality were 
 the marvel of his time, and who kept monarchs in terror of 
 his poisoned shafts. Yet he was charitable to the poor to 
 the point of extravagance. His devotion to his two daugh- 
 ters also commands respect. 
 
 In the same yeaf as Aretino, Jacopo Sansovino, the great 
 architect, came to Venice, fleeing from the sack of Rome. 
 He was a man almost as dissolute as Aretino. He was ad- 
 mitted into the compact, and the three stood together against 
 the world. They were called " the Triumvirate." In 1529 . 
 Sansovino was named architect of St. Mark's, and entered 
 upon the distinguished career that was to give us, among 
 other things, the Library of St. Mark's, one of the world's 
 most perfect buildings, and the loggia of the Campanile, 
 fortunately spared when the Campanile fell. These three 
 were the central figures in many a banquet where amid 
 much brilliant conversation there was no little debauchery. 
 Titian, however, would not follow his friends in their ex- 
 cesses. Aretino says of him : " He courts the girls, makes 
 as if he would kiss them, and plays all sorts of foolish 
 youthful pranks with them, but goes no further." 
 
 In 1528 Titian reigned supreme and almost alone in 
 Venice. Palma Vecchio died that year; the Bellini had 
 long been dead ;- Sebastian del Piombo returned to Rome, 
 and Pordenone forsook Venice for the cities on the main- 
 land, where fresco, his favorite medium, could be prac- 
 tised. Only Bonifaccio remained worthy to be mentioned 
 beside the master. 
 
 It was in 1531 that Titian moved into the great house 
 where he died, called for its size the Casa Grande. It was 
 three stories in height. The master finally took out the 
 partitions in the middle story, converting it into one great 
 studio. Exactly where he had lived before that we do not 
 know- After 15 14 he had a studio near San Samuele. In 
 the twenties of that century he dwelt in a house belonging 
 
154 THE WORLD'S^ LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 to the Tron family in the Parish of San Polo. Neither can 
 now be identified. When he first moved into the Casa 
 Grande it was only as tenant of the upper story. Gradu- 
 ally he rented more, and finally purchased the whole. It 
 still exists in the Biri Grande, but so cut up and built 
 around that it bears no resemblance to the stately man- 
 sion with gardens overlooking the sea where the master 
 dwelt. In those days he could look across the waves to 
 Murano and to the distant Dolomites that he loved so much. 
 Now the vast buildings of the Fondamenta Nuova cut off- 
 the view completely. 
 
 The great house in the Biri Grande soon became one of 
 the sights of the city. All distinguished visitors were 
 brought to see it and its treasures of -art. The master re- 
 ceived them with the dignified courtesy of a strong, self- 
 restrained man of the world, accustomed to associate with 
 the great. There was never in hiin anything of the bo- 
 hemian, of the gamin of the French studios. To under- 
 stand him and his position one must think of the great Eng- 
 lish artists, of Sir Joshua Reynolds or Lord Leighton. 
 Here the master dispensed a generous hospitality. He 
 loved to have his friends about him in his garden by the 
 sea. He entertained them sumptuously. Of one such oc- 
 casion we have an account in a letter of Priscianese, the 
 eminent Latinist. He writes: "On the ist of August I 
 was invited to a feast ... in a charming garden be- 
 longing to Messer Tiziano, the well-known excellent painter. 
 As like desires like, some of the most remarkable men of 
 the city were present, namely Pietro Aretino, . . . 
 Jacopo Tatti called il Sansovino, Jacopo Nardi, and myself, 
 the fourth in this illustrious circle. The heat of the sun 
 was still great, although the place itself is shady; so we 
 spent the time, before the tables were carried out, in looking 
 at those life-like pictures that fill the house, and we en- 
 
TITIAN 155 
 
 joyed the beauty and charm of the garden, which lies on the 
 sea-shore at the extreme end of Venice. From it one can 
 see the pretty island of Murano and other places. Hardly 
 had the sun gone down when the water swarmed with in- 
 numerable gondolas, full of beautiful women. Song and 
 music floated towards us and accompanied our cheerful sup- 
 per until midnight. The garden, which is beautifully laid 
 out and greatly admired, reminded me of Santa Agata. 
 . . . The supper was very good, rich in the most deli- 
 cate viands and costly wines, and seasoned by the pleasures 
 which the time of the year, the guests, and the feast brought 
 with them. We had just arrived at the fruits when your 
 letters came . . . and when the praise of the Latin 
 tongue was sung, at the expense of the Italian, Aretino be- 
 came exceedingly angry, apd could hardly be prevented from 
 inditing one of the most cruel invectives in the world. He 
 called for paper and ink, although he had already expressed 
 himself strongly in words. After this the supper came 
 most gaily to an end." 
 
 * Titian has often been accused of avarice. The accusa- 
 tion, though not unfounded, has been much exaggerated. 
 Like most men coming from the mountains, where life is 
 hard and the means of subsistence difficult to obtain, — wit- 
 ness the Scotch and the Swiss — he was fond of money. He 
 knew its value. He also knew the worth of his pictures. 
 Many bf them he gave away with a generosity that now 
 seems prodigal ; but when he sold them he demanded their 
 value, and was keen in enforcing payment. He was also a 
 good business man, investing his earnings in landed prop- 
 erties that gave him an independent income. But a man 
 so generous to his friends, who lived in a style so princely 
 and entertained visitors so often and in such splendid 
 fashion cannot properly be called avaricious. The way in 
 which the worthless Pomponio was allowed to squander 
 
156 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 his father's earnings, as revealed in Aretino's letters of ad- 
 monition, shows that in his family Titian was only too 
 liberal. 
 
 The impression of avarice is largely due to the fact that 
 only his business letters have survived, and these are mostly 
 devoted to an effort to extract from Charles V and Philip 
 II and their ministers the vast sums that they owed him, 
 and which were never paid. It is unfortunate that his pri- 
 vate correspondence has perished. Most Hkely it was not 
 very interesting — the letters of strong, self-contained men 
 rarely are; but it must have thrown some light upon the 
 man and his surroundings. 
 
 In 1528 the master undertook to paint the Death of St. 
 Peter Martyr for the church of Santi Pietro e Paolo. " The 
 next year brought Michelangelo to Venice, fleeing from the 
 wrath of the Medici. The greatest of draughtsmen no 
 doubt influenced the work, which was the only picture ever 
 painted that carried out Tintoretto's maxim, II disegno di 
 Michelangelo ed il colorito di Tisiano. The figure of the 
 murderer is worthy of the great Florentine, and the land- 
 scape with its immense trees tortured by the wind and the 
 distant mountains is the grandest ever painted. Unhap- 
 pily, this picture, which Titian's contemporaries esteemed 
 his masterpiece, perished by fire on August 16, 1867, and 
 we know it only by unworthy copies and the enthusiasm of 
 those who saw it. 
 
 As if to show the versatility of his powers, the master 
 painted in 1530 the Madonna of the Rabbit and the Virgin's 
 Rest in Egypt in the Louvre and the Madonna with St. 
 Catherine in the National Gallery, pictures of the Madonna 
 seated in a smiling landscape after the style of Palma Vec- 
 chio, works of an idyllic and entrancing sweetness. 
 
 As if still further to show his varied talents he painted 
 about the same time the StTjerome of the Louvre, with the 
 deep shadows of its sylvan solitudes. 
 
TITIAN 157 
 
 Some place the Magdalen of the Pitti at about this time, 
 others at a much later date. It is a splendid picture, but 
 hardly suited to purposes of devotion. The flowing locks 
 emphasize rather than conceal the opulent treasures of her 
 beautiful bosom. It is the first of a long series of Magda- 
 lens painted to extol the allurements of the lovely sinner 
 rather than to display her repentance. 
 
 In October, 1529, Charles V and Pope Clement VII met 
 at Bologna. The Emperor was crow^ned by the Pontiff, 
 and Italy was pacified into that slavery which was to endure 
 for more than three centuries. Vasari says that Titian 
 went to Bologna at the time and painted the imperial por- 
 trait ; but his letters prove that he remained in Venice, and 
 that Vasari is mistaken. 
 
 The real date of the master's first connection with the Em- 
 peror was 1533. Charles came to Italy in the fall of 1532, 
 and seeing at Mantua the portrait of Federigo Gonzaga by 
 Titian, he was so pleased that he asked the painter to come 
 and make a likeness of him. Titian went in January, 1533, 
 to Bologna, where Charles then was, and painted two por- 
 traits, one in armor, which has perished, the other in court 
 dress with a large Spanish hound. This is at Madrid, and 
 is one of the marvels of art. The master has extenuated 
 nothing. The insignificant figure, the homely face, disfig- 
 ured by the projecting lower jaw, are there; yet none can 
 look at the picture without perceiving that he is in the 
 presence of a ruler of men. No wonder that Charles gave 
 him a thousand ducats for it, and declared that no one else 
 should ever paint his portrait. He said that he knefw that 
 he was ugly, but other artists made him uglier than he was, 
 so that strangers coming into his presence were surprised 
 to find him less homely than they thought ; but that Titian 
 told the truth. > 
 
 At this time the Emperor was a young man of thirty-two, 
 gracious and pleasing in his manners. He overwhelmed 
 
158 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Titian with courtesies and compliments. It is said that 
 while painting one of the portraits the master let fall his 
 brush, and that Charles picked it up, saying, " A Titian is 
 worthy to be served by an emperor " ; that when Titian had 
 mounted a table to examine a picture on the wall and was 
 still not high enough to see it well, the Emperor with the 
 aid of the lords standing around raised the table so that 
 the master might see ; and that when they parted the mon- 
 arch publicly embraced the painter. Certain it is that on 
 his arrival at Barcelona on May lo, 1533, Charles issued a 
 patent, making Titian a count of the Lateran Palace, of the 
 Aulic Council and of the Consistory, with the title of Count 
 Palatine, and with authority to appoint notaries and in- 
 ferior judges, and to legitimize children under the rank of 
 baron. His children were also made nobles, while the mas- 
 ter was made a Knight of the Golden Spur with right of 
 entry at court. To his courtiers, who remonstrated against 
 his conferring such dignities upon a mere painter, Charles 
 replied, " We can create many counts, but God only can 
 make a Titian." 
 
 Amongst Charles' courtiers was the Marquis Davalos, a 
 distinguished soldier. He had a very beautiful wife, whom 
 he loved much, and he got Titian to paint for him about 
 this time the Allegory in Louvre, showing himself attended 
 by Love, Hymen and Victory, with his hand upon his wife's 
 beautiful bosom. As might be expected, with such a model 
 the master surpassed himself. 
 
 While at Bologna in 1533, Titian also painted the portrait 
 of Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici. In high favor with the 
 Emperor, he had gone to Austria to command the Italian 
 contingent in the war against the Turks. He proved as 
 poor a soldier as a churchman. His troops mutinied, and 
 he was thrown into prison. Afterwards he was released, 
 and he succeeded again in ingratiating himself into the 
 
TITIAN 159 
 
 imperial favor. He had himself painted in the splendid 
 costume of a Hungarirsn noble, in memory of his not very 
 distinguished military service. But if the sitter was neither 
 virtuous nor successful in war, he was fine looking, and his 
 portrait is a great masterpiece. As we gaze upon the hand- 
 some young lord we remember his miserable death two years 
 later at Itri, when by order of Alessandro de' Medici, the 
 brutal mulatto who tyrannized over Florence, believed to 
 be the son of Clement VII and of a negress in the Medici 
 kitchens, he was poisoned as he was on his way to join the 
 Emperor in his expedition against Tunis. 
 
 In 1534 Titian painted the portrait of Isabella d'Este. 
 The beautiful Marchioness, the uncrowned queen of the 
 Renaissance, was growing old, and wisely she did not wish 
 to be transmitted to posterity in her decline. ' So she gave 
 to the master an early portrait by Francia, from which he 
 made the picture that now adorns the gallery at Vienna. 
 It is a lovely thing, but, as is natural under the circum- 
 stances, it has no marked character. 
 
 And while it was not painted until three or four years 
 later, we may here mention his portrait of Francis I. As 
 one sees the debonair monarch in the Louvre, one would 
 think that it was taken from the life. The whole character 
 of the brave, chivalrous, amorous, pleasure-loving king is in 
 that face, so that it has become the accepted likeness of 
 which one thinks when his name is mentioned. Yet it was 
 painted from a medal. If we may judge from the portraits 
 made by French artists, the master flattered his royal patron. 
 
 Between 1534 and 1538 Titian painted one of his greatest 
 works, the Presentation of the Virgin in the Venice Acad- 
 emy. Almost everything that can go to make up a great 
 picture is here, pleasing architecture, a grand landscape, 
 beautiful women, noble men, the grace of childhood, even 
 the fierce realism of the terrible old marketwoman who sits 
 
i6o THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 looking on like one of the Fates; but perhaps the greatest 
 charm of the picture is its sense of atmosphere. It in- 
 spired many a work by Paul Veronese and his school, but 
 none ever approached its high perfection. 
 
 We do not know when the superb Supper at Emmaus in 
 the Louvre was painted; somewhere in this, period of the 
 master's career. It has not the poignant power of Rem- 
 brandt's wonderful creation. The face of Christ does not 
 show his passage through the grave. But save for Rem- 
 brandt's matchless work it is the supreme presentation of a 
 theme that painters have essayed so often. The nobility 
 of the Saviour's face, the reverence of one disciple, the as- 
 tonishment of the other, the mundane incomprehension of 
 the host, could not be better rendered; and the landscape 
 with the distant mountain is a masterpiece in itself. 
 
 On Sept. 25, 1534, Clement VII died, and was suc- 
 ceeded by Paul III, Farnese, whom Titian was to immortal- 
 ize with his brush. On October 31 of the same year the 
 master lost a munificent patron by the death of Alfonso 
 d'Este. His successor, Ercole II, preferred the works of 
 Pordenone; though some contend that Titian's portrait of 
 Alfonso that we have mentioned is really the s6n. 
 
 *About this time or a little earlier the master acquired one 
 of the most generous of his patrons. The nephew of Julius 
 II, Francesco Maria, Duke of Urbino, had inherited the 
 passionate and violent character of his race. At the age of 
 seventeen he murdered his sister's lover, and at thirty he 
 publicly slew Cardinal Alidosi, the legate and favorite min- 
 ister of the Pope. Still,„he.Jiad many good qualities. He 
 was a bold, active and able soldier and a great patron of 
 the arts. He came to Venice ii^ 1533 to take command in 
 the war against the Turks, and Titian painted the splendid 
 portraits of him and the Duchess Eleonora, his wife, that 
 now hang in the Pitti. Thenceforth until the Duke's death 
 by poison in 1538 Titian was perhaps never without an order 
 
TITIAN i6i 
 
 from him. Finally twenty-five masterpieces from Titian's 
 brush adorned the walls of the palace at Urbino. 
 
 For him the master painted the beautiful Venus with the 
 maid opening a chest in the background that now adorns 
 the Tribune of the Uffizi, and is one of the gems of flesh 
 painting. It has not the Greek purity of Giorgione's Venus 
 at Dresden. It is only a beautiful woman resting upon a 
 couch and portrayed with realistic power; but so splendid 
 is the coloring, so marvelous the brushwork, that it is a 
 joy forever. The same model seems to have served for the 
 lovely portrait in the Uffizi called the Bella, that exquisite 
 harmony in blue and gold, and perhaps for the lovely Young 
 Girl in a Fur Cloak at Vienna. All look as if they might be 
 idealized presentations of the Duchess Eleonora. 
 
 Bembo, the friend of Raphael, came tP Venice after 
 the death of Leo X, and lived a life of elegant literary 
 and artistic leisure on his numerous sinecures. Titian 
 painted his portrait late in the thirties, and also the portrait 
 of Jacopo Nardi, the noble Florentine patriot who had fled 
 from the Medicean tyranny, and was writing the history 
 of the downfall of free institutions in his unhappy city. 
 
 We are glad to know that the master was a lover of 
 music. In this same year he installed an organ in his house 
 — probably the one that appears in the pjcture of Venus 
 and the Organ Player in the Prado. 
 
 The year, however, was an unfortunate one; for in it 
 Titian lost one of his most generous patrons in the death 
 of Federigo Gonzaga, formerly Marquis, then Duke, of 
 Mantua. He had been a true friend to Titian, and when 
 the master's son Pomponio, who was to bring him so much 
 sorrow, was five years of age, the Duke had bestowed upon 
 the child the benefice of Medole, according to the evil custom 
 •of the time, which made sinecures of religious offices that 
 should have been sacred trusts. Titian at once put the boy 
 into priestly garments, and brought him up for the Church ; 
 
i62 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 and despite Pomponio's evil character the master was tire- 
 less in his efforts to procure for him ecclesiastical prefer- 
 ments. 
 
 In August, 1541, Charles V came to Milan, and the mas- 
 ter went there to meet him. Charles received him as gra- 
 ciously as before, and gave him a pension of one hundred 
 ducats, payable out of the Milanese treasury. By October 
 we find Titian back in Venice, where the " Triumvirate " 
 grew into an " Academy " of learned or witty men, who 
 used to meet for discourse and feasting, sometimes at 
 Titian's house in the Biri Grande, at others in the palace 
 of Aretino on the Grand Canal. 
 
 Among the Florentines who had sought in Venice a 
 refuge from the tyranny of Alessandro de' Medici was 
 Roberto Strozzi. He had a beautiful infant daughter, and 
 her the master immortalized in the portrait at Berlin. As 
 she stands beside the table petting her spaniel, she is perhaps 
 the most charming portrait of a little girl that was ever 
 made. In those days it was extremely rare to paint por- 
 traits of children, and that lends an especial interest to this 
 delightful work. 
 
 It is believed that it was somewhere between 1543 and 
 1550 that the master painted the Crowning with Thorns 
 in the Louvre, where the executioners with their staves are 
 forcing the thorns into the Saviour's bleeding brow — a 
 powerful work, deep in color and violent in action. When 
 past ninety he painted the variant of it that he gave to Tin- 
 toretto and which is now at Munich, a work less splendid, 
 but of greater religious fervor. 
 
 In 1543 Charles V was again in Italy, and he sent for 
 Titian and Aretino to meet him at Busseto. Thither they 
 went. The Emperor received them with great favor. He 
 rode out with Aretino at his side, and gave Titian a likeness 
 of his deceased Empress, Isabella of Portugal, and bade 
 him make from it a portrait. This the master did, and vfre 
 
TITIAN 163 
 
 see her still in the Prado, with her sweet refined beauty. 
 There is perhaps less personality in it than there would 
 have been had she sat to the painter ; but she is very lovely, 
 very delicate and pure. Charles was delighted with the pic- 
 ture, and took it with him when he retired to Yuste. He 
 had it brought to him when dying, that his glazing eyes 
 might look their last upon the wife whom he had loved so 
 well. 
 
 Titian and Aretino went with the Emperor to meet the 
 Pope at Bologna. Ecclesiastically speaking, Paul was one 
 of the greater popes. He was the first of the pontiffs to 
 realize the desperate importance of the Protestant revolt. 
 It was he who organized the forces of the Church for its re- 
 pression. A bull of his called the Jesuits into being, thus 
 creating the army of marvelous discipline that was eventu- 
 ally to stem the tide. He introduced the Inquisition into 
 Italy, and speedily annihilated heresy throughout the Pen- 
 insula. He convoked the Council of Trent. His noble 
 bull against slavery is one of the great human documents, 
 and while it became effective only after the lapse of cen- 
 turies, it set the conscience of mankind against the worst of 
 social institutions. Nor should it be forgotten that he was 
 a patron of art and letters. We owe to him the Last^ Judg- 
 ment of Michelangelo and the Farnese Palace, the grandest 
 palace in Rome ; and he made a great collection of antique 
 statues. 
 
 But his private character was bad. His immorality had 
 been a scandal even at the court of the Borgias. He owed 
 his advancement to the beauty and shame of his sister, 
 Julia Farnese, the paramour of Alexander VI, and was 
 called in derision the " Petticoat Cardinal." But his worst 
 fault was his doting fondness for his son Pier Luigi Far- 
 nese, a monster of unnatural vice and depravity without a 
 parallel in the pages of history. His incredible outrage 
 upon the young and saintly Bishop of Fano, openly com- 
 
1 64 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 mitted and publicly boasted of, the horrible details of which 
 we read in the pages of Varchi, one of the most conscien- 
 tious and reliable of historians, — spoken of by Paul as a 
 youthful indiscretion 'and solemnly pardoned in. a papal bull 
 — was one of the great weapons in the hands of the Protes- 
 tants. When such a crime could be committed by a son of 
 the Sovereign Pontiff and openly condoned, it looked indeed 
 as if the reign of Antichrist had come. Nepotism was at 
 that time a common fault of the popes ; but perhaps none of 
 them — not even Alexander Borgia — ever carried it so far 
 as Paul. 
 
 Pier Luigi had two sons who were not indeed so base as 
 he — no one could be that — but who were bad enough — 
 Alessandro, whom Paul made a- cardinal, and Ottaviano; 
 and upon these he showered a large part of the doting love 
 that he gave to their father. It was but just that this evil 
 brood should cause the Pontiff's death. These unnatural 
 grandsons plotted against him, and finally Ottaviano broke 
 into revolt supported by the Cardinal. Then the old man's 
 heart was broken, and he died in a fit of rage and grief. 
 
 Titian painted Paul's portrait and that of Pier Luigi, as 
 well as that of the latter's younger son Rannuccio. It is 
 said that when the master placed Paul's picture on the ter- 
 race to dry, those who passed by removed their hats, be- 
 lieving that it was indeed his Holiness. When we look at 
 it now in the Neapolitan gallery we cannot doubt the story. 
 It is the living presentment of the strong, stern, wolfish 
 man. 
 
 Paul and his son, with characteristic meanness, paid the 
 master nothing for his services, but instead promised him 
 the canonry of Colle for Pomponio, which neither had the 
 power to grant, as it was the gift of the Pope's grandson. 
 Cardinal Farnese. A book might be written upon the ef- 
 forts' that Titian made to get this benefice for his scape- 
 grace son, whom he seems to have loved as much as Piul 
 
TITIAN 165 
 
 loved Pier Luigi. He besieged the Pope and the Cardinal 
 with petitions. He besought the influence of all men capa- 
 ble of assisting him, from the Emperor to Michelangelo. 
 He enlisted the services of Aretino. But the resistance of 
 the Farnesi was hard to overcome. 
 
 Paul offered Titian the lucrative sinecure of the keeper- 
 ship of the Seals. The place was then occupied by Sebas- 
 tiano Luciani, who by reason of the office is called Sebas- 
 tian del Piombo. He was charged to pay out of its 
 emoluments a pension to Giovanni da Udine. To accept 
 would be to deprive two worthy colleagues of their means 
 of support; and with a noble disinterestedness that should 
 alone be an answer to the charges of avarice that have so 
 often been made against the master, Titian refused. 
 
 Returning home, he painted for a merchant of Brus- 
 sels resident in Venice named John der Hanna, whom the 
 Italians called Giovanni d'Anna, the great Ecce Homo of 
 the Viennese Gallery. It is a picture splendid in color and 
 movement, and remarkable for the Herculean build of the 
 Saviour, so unsuited to our conceptions of the Man of 
 Sorrows', and for the crowd who reject him and call for 
 Barabbas, — a crowd which is no rabble, but an assemblage 
 of high born men and women. Aretino served for the model 
 of Pontius Pilate, who stands at the head of the steps, point- 
 ing out Jesus to the crowd in a vain hope of clemency. 
 
 In 1545, Paul invited Titian to Rome. The master set 
 out, accompanied by his son Orazio, who had become his 
 assistant. They stopped at Urbino, where they were gra- 
 ciously entertained by the Duke, and furnished with an es- 
 cort for their journey. Arrived in the Eternal City, they 
 were housed in the Belvedere, and Vasari was assigned the 
 master as a guide. With Vasari he visited the marvels of 
 art that filled the Vatican and the many palaces and 
 churches. , 
 
 The master's first task was to paint the wonderful por- 
 
1 66 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 trait of Paul with two of his grandsons. Ottavio is just 
 entering, bowing obsequiously, while the Pope turns upon 
 him with the exact look of a wolf that has been interrupted 
 while gnawing a bone. Behind him stands the Cardinal, 
 looking indifferently out of the picture. Paul was easily 
 content with his own appearance, or he would n^ver have 
 allowed this damaging witness to go down to posterity. 
 Still, he was probably dissatisfied with it, for the picture is 
 unfinished. But however much the portrait may have 
 pleased the evil family, all the master's efforts to get them 
 to fulfil their promise to give Pcwnponio the benefice of 
 CoUe — the real object for which he had taken the journey 
 — were in vain. 
 
 Had Paul foreseen the future — had he known that Ot- 
 tavio would plot a rebellion against him, supported by the 
 Cardinal — had he foreseen the day when he would die of a 
 broken heart because of the ingratitude of these modern 
 Absaloms, — he could not have looked worse than in this 
 portrait. The likeness of him by the master at St Peters- 
 burg has the same wolfish expression, which was no doubt 
 habitual with his Holiness. V 
 
 While in Rome Titian painted for Ottavio Farnese the 
 splendid Danaii at Naples, on^ of the loveliest of his many 
 tributes to woman's beauty. It was in his studio when 
 Michelangelo came to see him. Let Vasari tell the story : 
 
 " Now it chanced that Michelangelo and Vasari, going one 
 day to see Titian in the Belvedere, beheld a picture, which he 
 had just then iinished, of a nude figure representing Danae, 
 with Jupiter transformed into a shower of gold in her lap, 
 many of those present beginning to extol the work (as people 
 do when the artist stands by) praising it not a little: when, 
 all having left the place, and talking of Titian's work, Buona- 
 rotti declared that the manner and coloring of that artist 
 pleased him greatly, but that it was a pity the Venetians did 
 not study drawing more, ' for if this artist," said he, ' had been 
 
TITIAN 167 
 
 aided by Art and knowledge of design, as he is by nature, he 
 would have produced works which none could surpass, more 
 especially in imitating life, seeing that he has a fine genius, and 
 a graceful animated manner.'" 
 
 Perhaps there is some defect in the drawing of this figure 
 that was visible to the keen eye of the great Florentine, but 
 of which our duller vision sees no trace. To us it seems 
 a masterpiece of draughtsmanship as of color, and the ex- 
 quisite figure lying so gracefully upon the couch beneath the 
 golden rain is a delight without alloy. Indeed, inspired by 
 the splendid works of antiquity that were scattered on every 
 hand, Titian here surpassed himself in the classic purity 
 of his lines. The Cupid was taken from that of Praxiteles 
 in the Vatican. 
 * It is true that Titian's method of producing a picture was 
 very different from that of the Florentines. They made 
 preparatory drawings and finally a large cartoon, from 
 which they painted. He made only a hasty sketch to get 
 the hang of the picture as a whole, and painted direct from 
 the living model. He drew with the brush, not the pencil, 
 emphasizing the rounded modeling of the form, not its out- 
 lines. Often their pictures seem only colored drawings. 
 His are always life transferred to the canvas. 
 
 While in Rome the master was able to render a signal 
 service to his friend Sansovino at Venice. On December 
 15, 1545, the ceiling of the Library of St. Mark fell. The 
 careless architect was fined and imprisoned ; but Titian and 
 Aretino had enough influence with the Doge and the Coun- 
 cil of Ten not merely to secure his release and a remission 
 of the fine, but to get him reinstated as architect of St. 
 Mark's. 
 
 After a two years' sojourn in Rome, where the Famesi 
 had got all they could out of him and made him no return 
 that history records, the master bent his steps homeward. 
 
J 
 
 i68 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Before his departure he received the rare honor of, being 
 made a Roman citizen, an honor which, so far as we can 
 learn, had been conferred on no other foreign artist save 
 ■Michelangelo. Passing through Florence, he offered to 
 paint the portrait of Duke Cosimo I, who declined. After 
 viewing the treasures of Florentine art, then so much 
 richer than they are to-day, the master returned to Venice, 
 with little cause to congratulate himself upon his journey. 
 Cosimo at least so far repented of his want of appreciation 
 of the greatest painter of the time as afterward to acquire 
 the Venus with Cupid now in the Tribune of the UiEzi, a 
 magnificent presentation of full and voluptuous beauty. 
 The face seems to have been painted from that of the mas- 
 ter's daughter Lavinia. 
 
 About this time began the master's portraits of her. 
 Titian was a devoted father. His patience with Pomponio 
 surpasses belief. In one of his letters he speaks of his 
 daughter as the dearest thing to him on earth. He has 
 given her to us in various graceful shapes, carrying a flag , 
 or bearing in her upraised hands a basket of fruit or the : 
 head of John the Baptist. She was certainly fair to look 
 upon, and her sweet face would indicate that she merited 
 her father's love. As the daughter of th e rich painter and 
 ennobled by imperial decree, she must have had many 
 suitors; but unlike most Italian girls she did not marry 
 early. She remained with her father until June 19, 1555, 
 when at the age of twenty-five she married a young man of 
 good family, Cornelio Sarcinello, and went to live with him 
 at Serravalle. Her father gave her a dowry of 2,400 duc- 
 ats. It must have been a sad blow to the master, whose 
 hearth was thus left desolate ; for his sister Orsa had died 
 in March, 1550. Lavinia appears agam as a matron in the 
 picture at Dresden. Her beauty has departed, but her face 
 remains good and kind. We do not know the date of her 
 death, which is believed to have taken place in 1561 or 1562; 
 
TITIAN 169 
 
 but we know that the master survived to weep over her 
 tomb. 
 
 In 1547 Sebastian, del Piombo died, and Titian applied 
 for the vacant office of the papal seals ; but before the peti- 
 tion was acted upon he had to renounce it for the imperial 
 service. 
 
 Ill 
 A MARVELOUS OLD AGE 
 
 In the fall of 1547 Charles was at Augsburg, where he 
 had called a diet of the Empire. He had overwhelmed the 
 Protestant princes at the battle of Muhlberg, and had taken 
 prisoner their leader, John Frederick, Elector of Saxony. 
 He was at the height of his power. When the news spread, 
 that he had sent for Titian there was great excitement in 
 Venice. It was believed that thenceforth the master would 
 work only for the Emperor; so everyone crowded to his 
 studio, endeavoring to buy whatever he had on hand. 
 
 Titian hated to go. He had to give up the hope of the 
 papal seals, and he feared that the canonry of CoUe would 
 be lost to Pomponio. Pope and Emperor were at daggers' 
 points, so much so that the Pontiff regretted the Protestant 
 defeat. Charles carried his resentment so far as to cause 
 the assassination of Pier Luigi and to annex the dukedom 
 of Parma and Piacenza that Paul had given his son — cer- 
 tainly a just punishment for unspeakable crimes, but a das- 
 tardly proceeding in a powerful monarch who could have 
 taken the duchy by force of arms. Yet the result was con- 
 trary to the master's fears. Seeing the painter so high in 
 favor with the all-powerful Emperor, the Farnesi deemed 
 it wise to fulfil their promise, and Pomponio at last re- 
 ceived the long-promised benefice. 
 
I70 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 At the age of seventy Titian set out upon his long jour- 
 ney. It was in January,^ 1548. The mountains were deep 
 in snow. Even with the fine highways and comfortable 
 inns of to-day we should deem it an intolerable hardship 
 to have to ride in winter across the Alps. With the poor 
 roads and wretched stopping places of those days such an 
 undertaking must have been appalling. But Titian was of 
 strong fiber. He seems always to have been indifferent to 
 heat and cold. His annual journeys to Cadore were not 
 made to escape the stifling heat of the Venetian summers, 
 but were taken most frequently in autumn or even in the 
 depth of winter. ' ^ 
 
 So, with his three-score years and ten upon him, he set 
 out, struggling through snow and storm across _the wind- 
 swept mountains. The Emperor had sent him money and 
 an outfit for the journey. At length the aged master 
 reached Augsburg, an exceptionally cold place, so different 
 from the genial climate of Venice. 
 
 Augsburg was not an artistic city, like Nuremburg. But 
 it was the richest place in Germany, one of the richest in 
 the world. It was estimated that the three houses of mer- 
 chant princes, the Fuggers, the Baumgaytners and the Wel- 
 sers, were worth collectively seven millions of gold gulden. 
 Titian had met most of these inerchants in the Fondaco at 
 Venice. He found assembled around Charles a large part 
 of the great dignitaries of Europe, both lay and ecclesiasti- 
 cal. The city was very gay, with a continual succession of 
 balls and dinners, where we may be sure that the courtly 
 master was often an honored guest. 
 
 But he found the Emperor sadly changed. He had been 
 successful as few monarchs have been. He had humbled 
 the pride of France. He had subdued rebellious Germany. 
 He was master of Italy. Even the Sovereign Pontiff,'.; 
 whom he had made realize his power by the frightful sack 
 of Rome, more atrocious than anything that Alaric or Gen- 
 
TITIAN 171 
 
 seric had done, dared not stand against him. His ships rode 
 every sea, and brought to him the spoils of Mexico and 
 Peru, the riches of Cathay. Upon his vast dominions the 
 sun never set. But all was in vain. Sad and disillusioned, 
 he was tired of life, of conquest, of glory. Once so genial, 
 he had grown cold, distant and soli;tary. He ate alone, de- 
 vouring vast quantities of food in silence and with an ab- 
 normal appetite. Yet he received the master kindly, and 
 had him paint two portraits, both of which are among the 
 world's wonders. In the one at Munich he is seated, 
 clothed in black, upon a porch with a curtain behind him, 
 while to the right is a distant prospect. In the one at 
 Madrid he appears in full armor upon the chestnut horse 
 that bore him at the battle of Miihiberg. He issues alone 
 from a wood, lance in hand. ' The picture has been injured 
 by fire and restoration; yet it remains the greatest eques- 
 trian portrait ever painted. It is true to nature. We see 
 the homely face with its protruding lower jaw, the slight 
 form; yet there is in the aspect of this solitary horseman 
 something that tells you that he is a mighty emperor before 
 whom the nations tremble. It is not surprising that when 
 it was finished, Charles, on Juii^ 10, 1548, doubled the 
 master's pension on the revenues of Milan. As this was 
 always in arrears, however, it was as much a vexation as a 
 profit. 
 
 ' While at Augsburg Titian painted many of the digni- 
 taries of the court and not a few of the imperial family. 
 Unhappily these have nearly all perished. Fortunately his 
 splendid portrait of the captive Elector has been preserved, 
 and is now in the gallery at Vienna. It is a noble work. 
 The unwieldy bulk of John Frederick is not concealed ; but 
 we can still see in the face the native dignity and the im- 
 movable conscience of the man who suffered a long, weary 
 imprisonment, dragged around in the Einperor's train like a 
 captive bear, rather than renounce his faith. At this time 
 
172 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Titian met Lucas Cranach, John Frederick's court painter, 
 who attended his master in his captivity with a noble devo- 
 tion. Cranach painted Titian's portrait, but unhappily the 
 work has been lost. 
 
 In October, 1548, Titian returned to Venice, much en- 
 riched by the munificence of the many patrons that he had 
 found at Augsburg, " not poor like a painter, but rich like 
 a prince," in the words of Aretino. He was held, too, in 
 much higher esteem by his fellow citizens. Like most com- 
 munities, they did not recognize the full worth of their 
 eminent townsman until he had won recognition abroad. 
 It is said that tlje Council of Ten called him before it to 
 get his judgment on the men and events that he had ob- 
 served. 
 
 In two years the master was again on his way to,Augs- 
 burg. Charles was again there, and had assembled all the 
 dignitaries of the land at another diet. Weary of empire, 
 he was determined to resign the crown. His motive in 
 gathering the German princes together was to secure the 
 election of his son Philip to be his successor. To this end 
 he had summoned the young man from Spain, and bade him 
 to do his utmost to win the favor of the Electors. But it 
 was all in vain. Cold and forbidding in manner, Philip 
 could not be gracious. The Germans saw in him the cruel 
 fanatic who was to light the fires of the Inquisition to their 
 hottest flame, to deluge Europe with innocent blood, and to 
 inflict more excruciating agony than any despot in the an- 
 nals of history. With all their hearts they rejected him. 
 
 But when Titian arrived at Augsburg on November 5, 
 1550, t^jat rejection was not yet certain. The master found 
 the same splendid court, the same gay life; but he found 
 the Emperor sadder, gloomier, more solitary than before, 
 now definitely resolved on abdication. He commissioned 
 Titian to paint the picture now at Madrid which the Span- 
 iards call the Gloria, showing Charles and his family in 
 
TITIAN 173 
 
 their shrouds adoring the Trinity. The picture, which was 
 not finished until four years later, has been much admired. 
 We confess, however, that we find it most unsatisfactory, 
 vast, theatrical and insincere. But it pleased Charles, who 
 carried it with him to Yuste, and upon it his dying eyes 
 were fixed, " so steadfastly as to awaken the apprehension 
 of his physicians." 
 
 The object of bringing the aged master across the Alps 
 was to paint Philip's portrait. He set to work, and pro- 
 duced the magnificent likeness of Philip in armor that 
 adorns the Prado — a picture which won for him the heart 
 of Mary Tudor and the English marriage. We may be 
 sure that Titian did all in his power to embellish the homely 
 features and insignificant figure of the Prince, who was 
 noted especially for his ungainly_ feet. He also painted 
 the equally splendid portraTts"of Philip in court costume 
 that are at Florence and Naples. The young man was 
 naturally pleased by these superb presentments of his per- 
 son, which were true and yet flattering, and he rewarded 
 the painter with a gift of four thousand ducats. He, for 
 whom the master was to produce so many glorious works 
 that were never to be paid for, started out as a munificent 
 patron. 
 
 Despite his intense fanaticism the Prince was fond of 
 pictures revealing woman in her unclothed beauty. Such 
 pictures were forbidden in Spain by the Inquisition under 
 terrible penalties , but raised above the reach of the frightful 
 instrument of his tyranny, Philip filled his palaces with 
 representations of the nude. For him Titian painted the 
 Venus, the Adam and Eve, and the Venus and Adonis of the 
 Prado, the Diana and Actaeon and the Diana and Callisto of 
 Bridgewater House, the Perseus and Andromeda of the 
 Wallace collection, and the Rape of Europa in Mrs. Gard- 
 ner's Venetian Palace at Boston, besides the Jupiter and 
 Antiope of the Louvre and many others — all glowing trib- 
 
174 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 utes to woman's beauty in its unclothed splendor. At first 
 Philip compensated the master most generously ; but as the 
 consequences of his misrule became more burdensome and 
 his treasury, drained by disastrous wars, ran ever lower, 
 he gradually fell away until at last he ceased to pay at all. 
 One thing is strange, the indifference of his minisfers to his 
 express orders in the master's favor. Armed with his posi- 
 tive command, Titian would press for payment, and press 
 in vain. No doubt there were other orders more urgent 
 still. 
 
 In the January of 1551 the court moved from Augsburg 
 to Innspruck, where Charles gave Titian a pension of 500 
 scudi on the Spanish treasury, on which, as on the stipend 
 on the Neapolitan treasury that had been assigned him 
 years before, the master was never to receive a ducat. 
 Here they parted forever, and again the venerable painter 
 crossed" the Alps in the dead of winter — an undertaking 
 which would appal a young soldier of to-day — and returned 
 to Venice. 
 
 During his sojourn at Augsburg and Innspruck in 1550 
 and 1 55 1 the master was most active in a singular mission. 
 Aretino had conceived the grotesque ambition to be made 
 a cardinal; and Titian besieged the Emperor and all his 
 court to exert their influence in his behalf. Fortunately the 
 Church was spared that ignominy. 
 
 Now when long past man's allotted span, Titian -pro- 
 duced many of his noblest works. It is not possible to 
 date most of them. Some critics attempt to do-so ; but their 
 efforts are not void of presumption. We cannot even tell 
 whether they were painted before or after his journeys to 
 Augsburg. We only know that as he grew older a change 
 came over his art. Failing eyesight' compelled him to stand 
 iurther from the canvas and to paint with broader strokes ; 
 but such was his mastery that this seems only to increase 
 his power. Of this later style Vasari says : 
 
TITIAN 175 
 
 " It is nevertheless true that his mode of proceeding in these 
 last-mentioned works is very different from that pursued by 
 him in those of his youth, the first being executed with a 
 certain care and delicacy, which renders the work equally 
 effective, whether seen at a distance or examined closely; 
 Mobile those of a later period, executed in bold strokes and with 
 dashes, can scarcely be distinguished when the observer is 
 near them, but if viewed from the proper distance they appear 
 perfect. This mode of his, imitated by artists who have thought 
 to show proof of facility, has given occasion to many wretched 
 pictures, which probably comes from the fact that whereas 
 many believe the works of Titian, done in the manner above 
 described, to have been executed without labor, that is not the 
 truth, and these persons have bee;i deceived; it is indeed well 
 known that Titian went over them many times, nay, so fre- 
 quently, that the labor expended on them is most obvious. And 
 this method of proceeding is a judicious, beautiful, and admir- 
 able one, since it causes the paintings so treated to appear liv- 
 ing, they being executed with profound art, while that art is 
 nevertheless concealed." 
 
 It is apparent that this bold manner of painting did not 
 really please the Florentine; for later on he says: 
 
 ". . . and it would have been well if he had worked for 
 his amusement alone during these latter years, that he might 
 not have diminished the reputation gained in his best days by 
 works of inferior merit, performed at a period of life when na- 
 ture tends inevitably to decline, and consequent imperfection." 
 
 Few will concur with Vasari in this judgment. It is true 
 that many of the master's later pictures are impressionistic 
 in style and must be looked at from a distance; it is true 
 that the brilliant colors of his youth gradually approach a 
 deep rich monochrome, as with Rembrandt in his later 
 works; but his dramatic power continually increases. His 
 religious pictures have a deeper significance; while his joy 
 in woman's naked beauty grows only more intense. It 
 
176 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 must be admitted that this bold method of painting has 
 been the ruin of many fooHsh men who have tried to begin 
 where the master left off ; but that was no fault of his. 
 
 The portraits of his later days, such as the Man with the 
 Baton at Munich, the Man with the Palm at Dresden, the 
 picture at Cassel called the Duke of Atri, Jacopo Strada 
 at Vienna and the several portraits of himself, are among 
 his greatest masterpieces. They are finished with more 
 minuteness than most of his later subject pieces. 
 
 In 1554 Titian made the portrait of Francesco Vanier, 
 the last of the Doges whom he was called upon to paint. 
 Owing to his great age he was excused from painting the 
 last two that were elected before he died, yet was allowed 
 to retain his broker's patent, and was exempted from the 
 war tax, "on account of his great excellence." 
 
 That he was not jealous of rising talent, as has been 
 charged, is apparent from the fact that when in the autumn 
 of 1556 he and Sansovino were appointed to award the 
 decoration of the hall of the Library of St. Mark, they gave 
 the commission to Paul Veronese, who had been but a 
 year in Venice, and who was thus enabled to display fully for 
 the first time his supreme talents as a decorative painter. 
 So, Dolce says of him, " He never abuses other painters, 
 but is ready and willing to praise those who deserve it." 
 
 It is recorded that he advised Venetians- who went to 
 Bergamo to have their portraits painted by Moroni; and 
 that when the dignitaries of Parma Cathedral were dis- 
 satisfied with Correggio's charge for frescoing the dome 
 and called Titian in to value the work, the master ex- 
 claimed, " If you filled your dome with gold it would not 
 pay for such a masterpiece." 
 
 On October 21, 1556, a great sorrow came to the master. 
 Aretino, his life-long friend, passed away. Some say that 
 he die"d of apoplexy; but the accepted version is that at 
 one of his bacchanalian feasts he laughed so heartily over 
 
TITIAN 177 
 
 a salacious anecdote that he lost his balance, and, falling 
 backward, fractured his skull. He regained consciousness, 
 and received extreme unction. Then he said,. " Now that 
 I am greased keep me from the rats " ; and so he died as he 
 had lived, with an unseemly jest upon his lips. The gen- 
 eral feeling was no doubt that expressed in a letter of 
 Antonio Pola to the Duke of Mantua: "On reaching 
 Venice I found that that scoundrel Aretino had surren- 
 dered his soul to Satan. His death, I think, will not dis- 
 please many, and particularly not those who are henceforth 
 relieved from paying tribute to the brute." But to Titian 
 he had been a devoted and useful friend, and the venerable 
 master, now in his eightieth year, must have missed him 
 sorely. Sansovino yet remained, but he too passed away 
 on November 27, 1570, leaving Titian the last survivor of 
 the Triumvirate. 
 
 In 1554 Titian sent to Philip the Danae at Madrid, of 
 which replicas exist at St. Petersburg and Vienna. The 
 form is more realistic and less beautiful than that at Naples 
 and the painting broader, while the Cupid gives place to 
 an old woman, who catches in her apron the falling gold. 
 It is probably this touch of the grotesque combined with 
 its richer color that made the picture so much more popular 
 than its Neapolitan counterpart. As the master grew older 
 he adhered closer to the model. The Venus and Adonis 
 was sent to Philip in England, no doubt to the great dis- 
 approval of the bigoted Mary. It was not the replica that 
 is now in the National Gallery, but the one in the Prado. 
 
 In April, 1554, the sorely tried master at length lost 
 patience with the worthless Pomponio. He took from him 
 the benefice of Medole, and gave it to a nephew, who, let 
 us hope, discharged his sacred functions in a more becom- 
 ing manner. When in the following October the benefice 
 of Sant' Andrea del Fabbro near Mestre was assigned to 
 Titian, he retained its emoluments for himself. Finally, 
 
178 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 however, he relented, and in 1557 he turned it over to 
 Pomponio. 
 
 On March 22, 1555, the Council ordered of the Master 
 the picture of Doge Grimam adoring Religion, which is so 
 conspicuous in the Doge's Palace ; but with that strange in- 
 difference with which he treated almost all commissions from 
 the Venetian state, he left it unfinished when he died twenty- 
 one years later. We may believe that the fine figure of the 
 kneeling Doge is his ; but let us hope that that most unin- 
 spired figure of Religion is by one of the pupils who 
 finished the picture after his death. The grand St. Mark 
 is worthy of the master, but seems to be the work of Palma 
 Giovane. 
 
 Charles V died on September 21, 1558, and on the follow- 
 ing Christmas Philip ordered that the arrears of his pension 
 due Titian by the Milanese treasury should be paid. The 
 sum was a very large one, exceeding two thousand ducats. 
 Feeling unequal to the journey, the aged master sent Orazio. 
 It almost cost Orazio's life. At Milan he put up with a 
 relative of Aretiiio's, a sculptor named Leone Leoni, whom 
 Titian had favored greatly. Tempted, apparently, by the 
 money that Orazio had collected, Leone set upon him in 
 his own house, and Orazio escaped to the street only after 
 he had been grievously wounded. Titian was loud in his 
 demands for justice; but Leoni was a favorite with the 
 Spanish government, and was let off with a small fine. 
 Even after Orazio's return to Venice Leone sought to mur- 
 der him through hired bravos, so that the Council granted 
 the painter the right to go about with arms. 
 
 In 1553, Titian's brother Francesco died at Cadore. He 
 showed his affection for Titian by making him his 
 universal legatee. He had proved himself a painter of no 
 mean ability, but had renounced the brush for the sworrf, 
 and in his later days had held office in their native home, 
 where he displayed wisdom, courage and justice. We may 
 
TITIAN 179 
 
 believe that the death of his only brother was a sad blow 
 to the venerable master. 
 
 In 1563, Titian painted two pictures showing the breadth 
 of Lis achievement, the St. Jerome of the Brera, a symphony 
 in richest brown, revealing the dark solemnity of the twi- 
 light forest with the holy anchorite, and the Venus with the 
 Mirror at St. Petersburg, one of his richest presentations 
 of woman's nude beauty. 
 
 In 1566, for some unexplained reason, perhaps because 
 of his wealth, the Council took away the master's exemption 
 from taxes, and required him to make a return of his in- 
 come to the assessors. That return is amusing, quite equal 
 to any made by a modern tax dodger or traveler return- 
 ing from Europe. His properties are all in a wretched 
 condition and yielding the scantiest of revenues. No men- 
 tion is made of his pensions, the sums received for pictures, 
 or the large profits that he was deriving from his timber 
 concessions in the Alps. 
 
 Yet he was generous to the last, entertaining with princely 
 hospitality his friends and all distinguished visitors to the 
 city. It is said that when Cardinal Granvelle, the minister 
 of Philip II, and Cardinal Pacheco came to see him, he 
 threw his purse to his servant, bidding him prepare a 
 royal feast, " for all the world is coming to dine with me." 
 Again, when Henry III passed through on his way from 
 Poland to assume the crown of France, Titian is said to 
 have made him a present of all the pictures of which he 
 asked the price. 
 
 In 1569, at the age of ninety-three, Titian seems to have 
 felt that the end was approaching. He procured a decree 
 authorizing him to transfer his broker's patent to Orazio, 
 and two years later he got Philip to transfer to Orazio his 
 Milanese pension. 
 
 The latter year brought to Christendom and to the aged 
 master a great joy. For years the Turks had been pressing 
 
i8o THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Venice hard, seizing one outpost after another, and threat- 
 ening to sweep her from the seas ; but on October 7, 1571, 
 the battle of Lepanto, gained by the combined fleets of 
 Venice and Spain, put a stop to the Ottoman advance, 
 and marked the turning point in their baleful career. The 
 rejoicings at Venice were frantic, and we may believe that the 
 aged painter, who loved the city so much, looked on with a 
 thankful heart ; though the picture that he painted at Phil- 
 ip's command to celebrate the event adds little to his fame. 
 This, however, was no fault of his. It was designed by 
 Philip himself, and painted from the sketch made by San- 
 chez Coello. Titian realized the hopeless character of the 
 composition, and protested in vain that the Spanish master 
 should be allowed to complete his work. 
 
 It is strange how the old man's joy in woman's beauty 
 persisted to the end along with a deepening sense of the sig- 
 nificance of the great Christian tragedy. When past ninety 
 he painted the glorious Venus and her Nymphs equipping 
 Cupid in the Borghese Gallery, usually called the Three 
 Graces, a masterpiece of broad and effective painting which, 
 close at hand, seems a daub, but at the proper distance re- 
 solves itself into a delightful harmony; and he was past 
 eighty when he painted the Jupiter and Antiope of the 
 Louvre, perhaps the most beautiful of all his pagan pictures, 
 save the Sacred and Profane Love. Whether we take the 
 nude form of the sleeping Antiopei pure as if it came from 
 a Grecian chisel, the realistic power of the Satyr, or the 
 splendid landscape, it is a marvelous work, worthy of his 
 maturest days. When the conflagration occurred in the 
 Palace of the Prado that caused the destruction of so 
 many priceless masterpieces, Philip III inquired anxiously 
 if this picture had been saved. Being told that it had been, 
 he gave a sigh of relief, and answered, " That is a com- 
 fort, for the rest can be replaced." Those who see it now 
 where with almost criminal stupidity it has been hung on 
 
TITIAN i8i 
 
 the dark side of the long gallery in the Louvre, cannot 
 imagine its glory when it hung upon the wall opposite. 
 Its deep, rich color demands a world of light. 
 
 Many letters of Titian to Philip have been preserved. 
 They are of interest chiefly as showing the dates of his 
 pictures and his unavailing efforts to get the remuneration 
 due. In the last, dated February 27, 1576, less than a 
 year before his death, the master calls the monarch's atten- 
 tion to the fact that for twenty years he has received no 
 compensation for the many pictures sent. No doubt his 
 death canceled the debt in Philip's mind. 
 ' Titian's last two pictures show that up to the end there 
 was no narrowing of his interest. The nude Shepherd- 
 ess and 'Shepherd at Vienna, one of the most i;ensuous of his 
 works, was left unfinished at -lis death, as was the Pieta 
 of the Venice Academy. The latter picture was begun 
 in payment for a burial place in the Church of the Frari; 
 but a disagreement with the monks ensued, Titian ceased 
 to work upon it, and provided in his will that he should be 
 buried at Cadore. It is a fine picture, showing tlie dead 
 Christ upon his mother's knees, while a grand and tragic 
 figure of the Magdalen raises her hand in the agony of 
 her grief. When the master had passed away Palma Giovane 
 completed it, placing upon it the inscription, " What Titian 
 began Palma finished Reverently and dedicated to God." 
 
 In 1576 there 'was a great plague in Venice. Fifty thou- 
 sand people — more than a fourth of the population — 
 died in a few months. The most horrible scenes took 
 place. Parents forsook their children, children their par- 
 ents. All were overcome with terror. Some rushed to the 
 churches in a frenzied appeal to the pitiless heavens. 
 Others gave themselves over in their despair to unbridled 
 ' debauchery. Amid such surroundings the master was 
 stricken with the disease, and on August 27, ^576, he pressed 
 away at his home in the Biri Grande. At the same time 
 
i82 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Orazio was dying of the malady in the Lazzaretto Vecchio. 
 Though married, he left no descendants, so that there were 
 none to bear Titian's name to future generations. 
 
 A decree of the Council forbade the interment within 
 ■ the city of anyone dying of the plague ; but in Titian's case 
 the law was set aside, and he was borne by the Canons of 
 St. Mark to the chapel of the Crucified Saviour in the 
 Frari, which he had chosen for his last resting place. The 
 worthless Pomponio had no doubt fled; for in his absence 
 thieves broke into the vacant house, and robbed it of much 
 of its precious contents. He promptly squandered the es- 
 tate. In 1580 he sold the house where the master was bom, 
 and in 1581 the home in the Biri Grande. When last heard 
 of in 1594 he was living in great poverty at San Pietro in 
 Castello at Venice. 
 
 Until 1852 no monument marked the grave of the master 
 who alone disputes with Raphael the title of the Prince of 
 Painters. In that year the Austrian Emperor caused the 
 present sumptuous tomb to be erected by the sculptor Zan- 
 domenighi. 
 
From the portrait by himself, Uflizi, Florence 
 
RUBENS 
 
 1577-1640 
 
 I 
 EARLY DAYS 
 
 Sir Peter Paul Rubens, who was to have the most 
 brilliant career in the history of art, who was to live like 
 a prince and to be the friend and counselor of monarchs, 
 first saw the light under distressing circumstances. 
 
 His father, Jan Rubens, was born at Antwerp on March 
 I3> I530' His ancestors can be traced back to 1396. They 
 were all tanners and druggists, prosperous men who lived 
 in homes of their own and possessed real property besides. 
 As always happens in such families, the time arrived when 
 they concluded that they must have a lawyer to add dignity 
 to the name. So, when Jan was twenty years of age he was 
 sent to Italy to study law. This he did at Padua and Rome, 
 and after seven years he returned to his native city with 
 a Roman diploma and the graceful manners of the South. 
 His fellow townsmen received him with favor, and within 
 five years after his return he was elected an alderman, a 
 position then conferred only on the leading citizens. In 
 the meantime he had on November 29, 1 561,, taken the 
 wisest step of his life in marrying Maria Pypelinckx, one 
 of the noblest of women, who was to be the good angel of 
 his house. 
 
 At this time Protestant doctrines were making great 
 progress in the Low Countries, and by 1562, Jan had adopted 
 that faith. If peace had continued, all would have gone 
 well, and Jan would have died one of the most honored 
 
 183 
 
1 84 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 of Antwerp's burghers. He was reelected as alderman 
 and held the office as long as he resided in the city. But 
 Philip II was determined to extirpate heresy, even if in 
 so doing he made a wilderness of his fairest provinces. 
 After exhausting milder expedients, he sent the remorse- 
 less Duke of Alva to wipe out the new religion in blood. 
 Jan, who was not the stuff that martyrs are made of, bent 
 before the storm and professed his devotion to the Church. 
 But he saw many who were conforming burned or de- 
 capitated for former errors, and when at last the heads 
 of Egmont and Horn fell upon the block, he quietly slipped 
 across the German frontier with his wife and two sur- 
 viving children, and settled in Cologne. Believing himself 
 safe here, he ceased to attend the mass, and for this he 
 would have been expelled from the Catholic city in spite 
 of his again submitting humbly to the Church, but for his 
 life's crowning disaster, his retention as her advocate by 
 Anne, the wife of William the Silent. Daughter of Mau- 
 rice, Elector of Saxony, she had borne William three chil- 
 dren ; but she was a frivolous and dissipated woman. She 
 refused to share the hardships of his wandering life, and 
 settled down to enjoy herself at Cologne. It is not sur- 
 prising that she became enamored of Jan with his hand- 
 \some person and graceful manners; nor is it surprising 
 that he should have yielded to the blandishments of one of 
 .her rank in an age when it was considered almost impos- 
 jlsible for a princess to stoop from her high estate to love a 
 '■common mortal ; and so, while William was traveling from 
 court to court, making superhuman exertions to rouse the 
 Protestant princes to join in a united effort for the de- 
 fense of their faith, Anne was spending her time in a guilty 
 intrigue accompanied with much hard drink. It must be 
 said in her defense, however, that William was himself far 
 from a model of the conjugal virtues. At last the news 
 
RUBENS 185 
 
 reached the injured husband, and as Jan was riding to 
 visit Anne at her home at Siegen, whither she had removed, 
 he was arrested by order of John of Nassau, William's 
 brother, in whose territory Siegen lay, and imprisoned in 
 the castle of Dillenburg, where William had himself been 
 born. The legal punishment for Jan's crime was death; 
 but at this critical moment, when the fate of Protestantism 
 hung trembling in the balance, William could not afford to 
 risk a breach with Saxony, nor to impair his standing by a 
 domestic scandal ; and so he contented himself with having 
 Jan cast into a dungeon, and with repudiating the sickly 
 infant that Anne shortly afterward bore. 
 
 For three weeks his distracted wife did not know what 
 had become of Jan, and when at last she learned the truth, 
 she wrote him the noblest letters ever written by an in- 
 jured woman to an erring husband, assuring him of her 
 forgiveness and devotion and encouraging him to bear up 
 under his misfortune. Jan himself, who was not a bad 
 man, but only weak, was profoundly penitent, and wrote 
 her the most remorseful letters. She at once inaugurated 
 a vigorous campaign for his liberation, besieging William 
 and his brother with letters and petitions. She even re- 
 sorted to threats, assuring them that if her husband wa§ 
 executed she would publish the whole affair and bring dis- 
 grace on the house of Orange. Jan himself wrote a letter 
 to William which is a curious example of the pedantry of 
 the times. He seeks to reconcile William to his dishonor 
 by citing instances of the great men of history who bore 
 such outrages with equanimity; and he assures him that it 
 was not so bad after all, since a doctor of laws is not a 
 base-born hind, but is ranked by many as next below a 
 baron ! Finally, after two years his wife secured Jan's re- 
 lease, but on condition that he should reside in the town 
 of Siegen. Here they took a house in the Bourgstrasse, 
 
i86 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 and here on June 28, 1577, the great painter was bom. It 
 was the day of Saints Peter and Paul, and for them he was 
 named. 
 
 The life of the family in Siegen was very hard. Jan 
 could turn his talents as a lawyer to no account in that 
 trifling village; their estates in Flanders had been seques- 
 tered; and the Nassaus used their power to extort from 
 the unhappy couple every thaler that they could raise. Their 
 conduct would have been contemptible but for their terrible 
 need of money to sustain the tottering cause of the Protes- 
 tant faith. A remaining document proves that they wrung 
 from Jan's wife eight thousand thalers. 
 
 The next year, on May 15, 1578, Jan, in consideration 
 of a substantial payment, received permission to remove 
 to Cologne. Anne of Saxony was dead, and William had 
 for two years been married to a worthier woman, so that 
 he could afford to be lenient. Jan promptly transferred 
 his residence to the city, and entered again upon the suc- 
 cessful practice of his profession, having amongst his clients 
 some of the leading nobles of the vicinity. 
 
 His Protestantism had never been of a very robust type, 
 and was due as much to association as to conviction. In 
 the intensely Catholic city of Cologne every motive of pru- 
 dence urged a reconciliation with the ancient faith; and 
 there were few, if any, to sustain him in the new. So Jan 
 and his family returned to the bosom of the Church. This 
 apparently trifling occurrence was one of the great events 
 in the history of art ; for if Rubens had been brought up in 
 the hard Calvinism of the time, which looked on beauty and 
 splendor as things accursed, he could never have been the 
 mighty master that we know. 
 
 Jan continued to reside in Cologne, prosperous and hon- 
 ored, until his death on May i, 1587. No one knew the 
 cause of his imprisonment, which was attributed to political 
 reasons. He taught Peter Paul the rudiments of Latin, 
 
RUBENS V 187 
 
 and proved himself, as always, a kind and loving husband 
 and father. By common consent the Siegen episode was 
 never mentioned, and Rubens died in the belief that he was 
 born at Cologne. It is only of recent years that the truth 
 has come to light. 
 
 Maria Pypelinckx, who had loved her husband so devot- 
 edly, was heart-broken at his death, and never ceased to 
 mourn her loss ; but her duties to her family compelled her to 
 bear up. The year following she returned to Antwerp with 
 her remaining children, Blandine, Philip and Peter Paul, 
 the eldest having gone to Italy two years before. She 
 found her native city sadly changed. Alva had swept over 
 it like a pestilence. Thousands of its citizens had perished 
 at the stake or on the scaffold ; thousands had sought refuge 
 in other lands; and when the monster had been recalled, 
 war and civil tumult had continued to do their worsts 
 Protestantism had been almost eradicated; but the busiest 
 mart in Europe had been reduced in population from 
 90,000 to 45,000. Grass grew in its streets. However, 
 prosperity was slowly returning. Even the bigoted mind 
 of Philip II was forced to perceive that persecution could 
 be carried too far, and a measure of toleration was granted. 
 The fagots ceased to burn about the bloody stake, and 
 many of the exiles were coming back to their devastated 
 homes. 
 
 Though much reduced in circumstances, Maria Pype- 
 linckx took a handsome house that is still standing in the 
 Meir, the largest square in Antwerp; and for two years 
 Rubens went to school, and obtained the only systematic 
 instruction that he received; though he afterwards became 
 through his own exertions a man of distinguished acquire- 
 ments. His school master was Rumaldus Verdonck, a 
 learned humanist. The school was behind the cathedral, 
 where is now the Marche au Lait. A schoolmate bears wit- 
 ness that Rubens was a diligent pupil, beloved by all the 
 
1 88 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 scholars for his amiable qualities. He pursued his study of 
 Latin, then the principal subject taught, and all through life 
 he wrote Latin with classic purity, and even spoke it with 
 ease. 
 
 The growing embarrassment of the family compelled the 
 sons to seek a means of livelihood. Philip became a tutor ; 
 and in 1590, at the age of thirteen, Rubens entered the 
 service of Marguerite de Ligne, dowager Countess de 
 Lalaing, as a page. She was the owner of several castles 
 in Germany and the Low Countries, and maintained a regu- 
 lar court. At this early age Rubens received that instruc- 
 tion in courtly ceremonies and courtly manners which was 
 to prove of such value in later life. 
 
 His vocation for art, however, was irresistible, and after 
 a year he left the service of the Countess to enter the studio 
 of Tobias Verhsecht, an obscure painter at Antwerp. The 
 choice of a master was probably due ,to the fact that Ver- 
 haecht was related to Rubens' mother He seems to have 
 been only a painter of landscapes, and a very poor one at 
 that 
 
 It was an admirable time to begin the career of a painter. 
 The people of Flanders had always been devoted to the 
 fine arts, and under the Van Eycks and their successors 
 their churches had been sumptuously adorned. The fury 
 of the iconoclasts had, however, destroyed most of the 
 pictures and other decorations of religious edifices, and it 
 was certain that with returning prosperity these must be re- 
 , placed. 
 
 It was inevitable that a boy as bright as Rubens should 
 soon perceive the incapacity of his first master, and six 
 months later we find him in the studio of Adam van Noort. 
 It used to be universally believed that Van Noort was a 
 drunken boor, who drove Rubens from his studio by his 
 coarse brutality. How this legend grew up we do not know, 
 but it seems certain now that Van Noort was a worthy man 
 
RUBENS 189 
 
 much esteemed by his fellow-townsmen. He lived to a 
 great age and acquired considerable property. No works 
 of his can now be identified with certainty; but he was re- 
 garded as an able painter. 
 
 The leading artist in Antwerp was Otto van Veen, and 
 after four years with Van Noort, Rubens wisely passed on 
 to his more eminent colleague. And this was a most for- 
 tunate occurrence. Van Veen was not only a distinguished 
 painter, he was a scholar and a gentleman of wide attain- 
 ments and great culture. He had spent years in Italy, 
 and had acquired a profound love for the literature and 
 art of antiquity. He was a man of great versatility. He 
 wrote Latin verses that were much admired, and he was 
 also esteemed as a military engineer. Of distinguished 
 manners and graceful bearing, he was welcomed at the 
 courts of princes. He became much attached to his bril- 
 liant pupil, and took pleasure in imparting to him his stores 
 of learning of all kinds. Rubens remained with him for 
 nearly four years, and the daily converse with such a man 
 was of inestimable vaiue in the development of the youth's 
 intellect, the cultivation of his tastes and the formation of 
 his manners. 
 
 At last the time came for Rubens to leave the studio of 
 his kind master. In 1598 he was admitted to the Guild of 
 St. Luke, and set up for himself. He prospered, but of 
 the pictures of those early days no trace remains. They 
 are no great loss. Of all the great artists Rubens was the 
 - slowest to develop, and we may be sure that those early 
 works were poor stuff. We only know from the inventory 
 that he used his beloved mother as a model, and that he 
 was associated with Van Veen in decorating the city when 
 the Archduke Albert, son of the Emperor Maximilian II, 
 and his wife, the Infanta Isabella, daughter of Philip II, , 
 came in 1599 to inaugurate their enlightened rule over the 
 distracted land. 
 
igo THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 But the heart of the youth longed for Italy. It was then 
 the universal custom of Flemish artists to make the Italian 
 pilgrimage. All of Rubens' three masters had gone, and 
 the last had instilled into the ardent mind of his pupil a 
 burning desire to see the glories that lay beyond the Alps. 
 So, on May 9, 1600, Rubens set out upon the journey. 
 
 It must have been a hard trial to part from the mother 
 whom he loved so much and who so richly merited his 
 affection. He did not know her full worth ; he knew noth- 
 ing of her courage and devotion at the time of her hus- 
 band's imprisonment; but he knew that she had been the 
 kindest, most loving, prudent and sagacious of mothers, 
 and his heart must have bled as he rode away. She, too, 
 must have wept bitter tears as she looked her last upon 
 the beloved son whom she was never to see again; but 
 with that self-sacrifice that had marked her every act, we 
 may be sure that she encouraged him in a step so essential 
 to his development. 
 
 II 
 
 IN SOUTHERN LANDS 
 
 Rubens went straight to Venice, for whose art he had 
 an especial affinity. Venice was then at the height of her 
 splendor. Her power had departed; and with Vasco da 
 Gama's discovery of the sea-route to the East, the wealth 
 of the Indies had ceased to pour into her lap. But as yet 
 there was no outward evidence of decay. The great pal- 
 aces were still new, and others were being built. The 
 master works of the Venetian school, the greatest in the 
 history of painting, were glowing upon the canvas in their 
 pristine freshness. Titian died only one year before Ru- 
 bens' birth, and his disciples were still following in his foot- 
 steps, though at a long distance. The sight of so much 
 
RUBENS 191 
 
 magnificence and beauty must have made a profound im- 
 pression on the young man, who had known only the dark, 
 somber cities of the North. 
 
 Rubens no doubt intended to remain only a year or two 
 in the South, but in July, 1600, an event occurred which 
 was to have a marked effect upon his destiny. Vincenzo 
 Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua, saw some of Rubens' pictures, 
 and was so pleased with them that he invited the young 
 man to become his court painter. The proposition was as 
 flattering as it was unexpected, and Rubens accepted. 
 
 The fact that Vincenzo should have been attracted by 
 the kind of pictures that Rubens then painted proves either 
 that his taste was poor, or that he possessed extraordinary 
 discerrmient, and perceived the butterfly within the chrysalis. 
 As Rubens was to remain for eight years in the service of 
 this remarkable individual, it is necessary to speak some- 
 what of his character. He ^^^ras a young man of 1;wenty- 
 eight, handsome in person, athletic and active, fond of 
 horses and field sports. He was cultivated, an admirer 
 of the fine arts, and he delighted to associate with artists 
 and scholars. His musicians and troup of actors were 
 the best in Italy. Unhappily these fine qualities were 
 marred by still greater defects. He was inordinately amo- 
 rous, falling passionately in love with every pretty woman 
 that he met. He was a reckless gambler, and lost vast 
 sums at play. He was extravagantly fond of pomp and 
 pageantry, kept in his stables one hundred and fifty mag- 
 nificent horses, and spent in splendid entertainments far 
 more than the limited revenues of his dukedom would jus- 
 tify, so that he was always in straits for money. Capricious 
 and impetuous, he was at the same time a bigot and a 
 debauchee. His vices did not affect Rubens, who, amid all 
 the riot of the court, always maintained his dignity with 
 the quiet assurance of the born gentleman; but the im- 
 poverishment of the ducal treasury resulted in many vexa- 
 
192 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 tious delays in the payment of the promised stipend. Per- 
 haps if Rubens had known Vincenzo better he would have 
 declined the offer ; but at Venice he saw only a young ruler 
 of distinguished presence and engaging manners, who loved 
 the arts. 
 
 It was not alone the certainty of steady employment that 
 attracted Rubens to the Duke's service. In the palaces at 
 Mantua there was then collected the finest gallery of art 
 in Europe. In gathering it together Isabella d'Este had 
 used her exquisite taste and rare opportunities, and her 
 successors had been almost equally eager in their pursuit 
 of artistic treasures. There were not only numerous paint- 
 ings by the greatest masters of Italy; but the collection of 
 antique statues begun by Mantegna had grown to large 
 dimensionsv/ The place therefore offered extraordinary in- 
 ducements to a young man ambitious to improve himself 
 in his art and as ardently devoted to the study of the re- 
 mains of antiquity. The Dukes of Mantua also kept a 
 remarkable menagerie; and it was probably here that Ru- 
 bens acquired that skill in depicting all manner of wild 
 beasts that is exhibited in many of his later works. • 
 
 The court at Mantua was in some respects superior to 
 its Duke. The Duchess Leonora de' Medici, sister of her 
 who was to become the second wife of Henry IV of 
 France, was a lady of many charms and many virtues; a 
 cultivated and elegant woman, who did her best to continue 
 the traditions of Isabella d'Este. Her court was a place 
 to acquire the grace of manner, the charm of conversation, 
 the refinements of social intercourse so ably taught in Cas- 
 tiglione's " II Cortegiano," which was the accepted standard 
 for the Italian gentleman. 
 
 In the decoration of the walls of the Mantuan palaces 
 two master spirits had ruled, Mantegna and Giulio Romano. 
 For the severe art of Mantegna Rubens can have felt no 
 great affection. It is true that he made a free transcription 
 
RUBENS 193 
 
 of Mantegna's Triumph of Julius Ccssar; but this was done 
 long years afterward, when the pictures had been removed 
 to England. Rubens had no love for the primitives, and 
 he probably esteemed Mantegna only as an 'exponent of 
 antique art. The paintings of Giulio Romano, on the con- 
 trary, influenced him profoundly. Giulio was his true 
 forerunner. In the powerful, passionate, sensual forms 
 that adorn the walls of the Palazzo del Te, we see the 
 archetypes of the far more powerful, far more passionate, 
 far more sensual forms that the mighty Fleming was after- 
 ward to project upon the canvas. It may be that Rubens 
 would have reached the same goal had his eyes never 
 feasted on Giulio's bold creations; but his long association 
 at this formative period with an art so similar to that which 
 he afterwards developed could scarcely have been without 
 its influence. 
 
 ^Hardly had Rubens entered Vincenzo's service when he 
 went with the Duke to Florence, which was then far richer 
 in works of art than at the present day, when so many of 
 its masterpieces have perished, or gone to enrich distant 
 lands. Here for the first time Rubins saw some of the 
 master-works of Michelangelo, which were to have so en- 
 during an influence upon his style. The rich collections 
 of the Medici were also revealed to his gaze; and we can 
 imagine the delight with which he contemplated the treas- 
 ures that still remain to fill us with admiration. It was 
 possibly at this time that Rubens made from some copy 
 that has since perished that wonderful drawing of Leo- 
 nardo da Vinci's Battle of the Standard, which gives us 
 our best conception of that lost masterpiece. The skill dis- 
 played in the drawing, however, argues for a much later 
 date. The occasion of the visit was to attend the marriage 
 of Marie de' Medici with Henry IV. The Florentine Duke, 
 proud that a descendant of shopkeepers should be called 
 to one of the greatest thrones in Europe, celebrated the 
 
194 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 occasion with shows and pageants of surpassing magnifi- 
 cence, which must have strengthened in the mind of the 
 young artist that love of the glory of this world of which 
 he was to become the supi'eme exponent. 
 
 From Florence Vincenzo with his court passed on to 
 Genoa. Here the artist busily studied and painted. He 
 greatly admired the palaces of that superb city, and made 
 drawings which he afterwards used in a volume on its 
 architecture. At the end of six months he returned to 
 Mantua, and resumed his labors. He delighted to copy 
 the works of the great masters, particularly those of Titian ; 
 and his skill as a copyist must have impressed Vincenzo; 
 for in August, 1601, he sent Rubens to Rome to make 
 copies of the masterpieces there for the adornment of his 
 palace. He provided the artist with a letter of warm rec- 
 ommendation to Cardinal Montalto, then a great personage 
 at the Vatican. The Cardinal received Rubens graciously, 
 and until the April of the following year the latter remained 
 in Rome, where he had so much longed to be. Everything 
 in the Eternal City appealed to his artistic instincts. It 
 would be hard to say whether he was most delighted with 
 the gorgeous cereihonials of the Church, the magnificent 
 remains of pagan antiquity, or the masterpieces of Raphael 
 and Michelangelo. He arrived in the burning heat of sum- 
 mer, but nothing restrained his ardor, and with tireless 
 energy he sought out the countless marvels that lay on 
 every hand. Meanwhile, his courtly manners made him a 
 welcome guest in the palaces of the great. He attested his 
 admiration for Michelangelo by drawing the Prophets and 
 Sibyls and the Creation of Man on the ceiling of the Sistine 
 Chapel; and years afterward, in his pictures of the Last 
 Judgment he showed" how carefully he had studied the pre- 
 sentation of the same subject by the Italian titan. 
 d^ Oi his contemporaries it was Caravaggio who influenced 
 ' him most. A vigorous realist, Caravaggio did much to 
 
RUBENS 195 
 
 infuse life into art, and to save it from the academic weak- 
 ness that was creeping over it ; but his system of painting 
 with fierce high-lights beside shadows impossibly black, as 
 though light had no diffusive power, was essentially vi- 
 cious. Still, Rubens borrowed it in large measure, and it 
 took years to free him from that pernicious style. 
 
 Another artist who influenced Rubens greatly and whose 
 influence was unhappily never to be shake^n off, was Baroc- 
 cio. From him Rubens acquired that taste for excessive 
 curves which lends a baroque appearance even to his great- 
 est works. 
 
 He was often in straits for money, for Vincenzo gener- 
 ally found other ways of spending his revenues that were 
 more agreeable than the payment of his ^ebts ; so, instead 
 of devoting all his time to the copies that he had come to 
 make, Rubens was forced to look around for profitable 
 employment. The Archduke Albert had been a cardinal, 
 taking his title from the ancient church of Santa Croce in 
 Gerusalemme beside the walls of Rome. He had been re- 
 leased from his priestly vows, for which he had no voca- 
 tion, to marry the Infanta Isabella, and to assume the 
 regency of Flanders. He and his equally enlightened wife 
 had given great offense at the Vatican by the broad measure 
 of tolerance that they had granted, and as a means of 
 conciliation Albert wished to present an altar-piece to his 
 titular church. Rubens had left many friends at home, 
 and through their influence he was chosen for the commis- 
 sion. So he painted the large pictures that hung in the 
 church until they were carried to France during the Revo- 
 lution, and which have found their way to the Museum of 
 Grasse. Coarse and commonplace, with hard colors, 
 opaque shadows and red flesh-tones, they give slight promise 
 of future greatness. Still it must be confessed that they 
 have a certain vitality and decorative effect. These are 
 the first of the master's works that we are able to identify. 
 
196 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 They are certainly humble beginnings of a great career. 
 But there was one peculiarity about Rubens — he contin- 
 ually advanced. There was no backward step in his ca- 
 reer, and the works of each year were superior to those of 
 any that had preceded until death stayed his hand. 
 
 In April, 1602, Rubens was back in Mantiia, and in the 
 summer a great pleasure awaited him. Philip, his much 
 loved elder brother, who, as we have said, was a tutor in 
 a wealthy family, had accompanied his pupil, William 
 Richardot, to Italy, and Rubens met him at Verona. 
 
 The next year Rubens was sent on the first of those mis- 
 sions to foreign courts which were to become such a feature 
 of his distinguished career. 
 
 Mantua was a feeble state, and it existed only by the 
 suliferance of its neighbors. Of these the strongest and 
 most aggressive was Spain. It was therefore essential that 
 Vincenzo should remain on good terms with the Spanish 
 sovereign. Philip II had passed on to a land where it is 
 to be hoped that his ears were no longer regaled by the 
 shrieka of heretics perishing in slow agony at the stake, 
 and his blood-stained throne was occupied by his feeble son, 
 Philip III. He was not averse to the burning of misbe- 
 lievers, but his principal occupation was the chase, while he 
 left affairs of state to be mismanaged by his incompetent 
 minister, the Duke of Lerma. In order to propitiate the 
 monarch, Vincenzo determined to send him some of the 
 splendid horses, for which the ducal stables were famous, 
 and a magnificent gilded coach. For De Lerma, who was 
 a lover of the fine arts, he had numerous excellent copies 
 made of the works of Raphael and other Italian masters. 
 There were also presents for many other lesser dignitaries 
 whose favor it was important to win. 
 
 When the Duke looked around for a suitable bearer of 
 his gifts, he could find none so acceptable as his courtly 
 painter. So in March, 1603, Rubens set out, traveling by 
 
RUBENS 197 
 
 way of Bologna and Florence to Leghorn, and thence by 
 sea to Alicante. He proceeded to Madrid, but found that 
 the court was at Valladolid. He remained in the capital 
 long enough to see its treasures of art, and was particularly 
 carried away by the noble works of Titian and Raphael 
 that now adorn the Prado. When he reached Valladolid 
 the court had moved on to Burgos. Rubens found there, 
 however, Iberti, the minister of Duke Vincenzo at the 
 Spanish court, to whom he bore letters of strongest com- 
 mendation, directing that the painter should be associated 
 in the presentation of the gifjts. 
 
 The horses and coach arrived in excellent condition, but 
 when they unpacked the pictures, they found that they 
 had got wet on the trip from Alicante, and were apparently 
 ruined. Iberti wanted Rubens to call in a lot oi Spanish 
 artists and hastily paint an equal number of pictures to 
 take their places. This Rubens was unwilling to do. At 
 Madrid he had formed a poor opinion of the artists of 
 Spain, and desired no cooperation with them. So he 
 cleaned and dried the damaged works, and proceeded to 
 restore them. Two, however, were injured beyond recov- 
 ery, and in the place of these he painted the Democritus 
 and the Heraclitus that now hang in the Prado. The sight 
 of them convinces us of his wisdom in doing no more ; for 
 they are poor creations without great vitality and with flesh- 
 tints of an unpleasant brown. 
 
 The day of presentation arrived. Iberti, who deemed 
 a mere painter unworthy to be associated with a man of 
 his eminence on such an occasion, did not present Rubens to 
 the King and Queen, as he had been instructed to do, but 
 assumed all the honors himself. Their Majesties were de- 
 lighted with the magnificent horses and the gilded coach, 
 and manifested their pleasure in their constant use. When 
 it came to De Lerma, the accidental injury to the pictures 
 proved an unexpected boon. Seeing their condition, he took 
 
198 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 them for priceless originals, and was overjoyed to receive 
 them. Rubens and Iberti were too wise to undeceive him. 
 Anyone who has seen a professional connoisseur caught in 
 a mistake will realize that that would have occasioned De 
 Lerma's undying enmity. 
 
 Rubens was detained at the Spanish court for almost a 
 year. It is not recorded that he was ever presented to the 
 King or Queen, and the company of the arrogant Spanish 
 grandees, who considered any painter immeasurably their 
 inferior, could not have been very agreeable. Had he been 
 at Madrid he could have found compensation in the study 
 of the glorious masterpieces of Italian art that filled its 
 palaces. But at Valladolid there was no intellectual oc- 
 cupation. Rubens, whose salary was as usual in arrears, 
 painted some portraits to fill his purse; but these cannot 
 now be identified with certainty. He also painted for the 
 Duke de Lerma the series of the Twelve Apostles now at 
 the Prado, inferior productions which no one would notice 
 if by a lesser hand. 
 
 It was no doubt at this time that Rubens learned Span- 
 ish, thus almost completing his extraordinary accomplish- 
 ments as a linguist. German he had learned in childhood 
 at Cologne. Flemish, Dutch and French were all currently 
 spoken at Antwerp, and he had acquired them all. During 
 his eight years in Italy he attained complete mastery of 
 Italian, which was then the language of diplomacy and of 
 polite intercourse, occupying the place that French after- 
 wards achieved; and the greater part of his letters are in 
 that tongue. Besides, he was, as we have said, proficient in 
 Latin, then the language of the learned throughout the 
 world. With his acquisition of Spanish he was able to 
 converse with all the men of Western Europe save the Eng- 
 lish, and their speech he was to learn later on. 
 
 Thoroughly weary of the empty pomp and tedious cere- 
 monial of the Spanish court, Rubens was glad to get back 
 
RUBENS 199 
 
 to Mantua early in 1604. In his trying position he had 
 conducted himself with admirable dignity and discretion, 
 and had won the esteem of all with whom he came in con- 
 tact. He remained at Mantua for two years, and during 
 this time he painted three pictures for the Church of the 
 Trinity there. They are not great works. The handling 
 is coarse ; Caravaggio's shadows darken them ; many of the 
 figures are borrowed from Raphael and others; but they 
 are a distinct advance on anything that he had done before, 
 and one perceives that here is a strong man who has not 
 yet found the means of self-expression. During this period, 
 too, he continued to copy Titian and Correggio. 
 
 In August, 1605, Philip Rubens was appointed Librarian 
 to the Cardinal Ascanio Colonna, and came from Antwerp 
 to assume the duties of his post. This naturally filled his 
 brother with the desire to go to Rome, and shortly after- 
 ward Rubens set out for the Eternal City. It was a joyous 
 meeting between the affectionate brothers, who had so 
 many tastes in common. Philip was a distinguished Latin 
 scholar and deeply enamored of classical antiquity. So 
 the brothers spent much time in studying the remains of 
 Roman greatness; and Rubens made many drawings of 
 ancient busts and bas-reliefs. These have now found their 
 way into the Louvre. Despite his slender resources he at 
 this time bought the antique busts of Cicero, Chrysippus 
 and Seneca that formed the nucleus of the fine collection 
 which he subsequently acquired. 
 
 He remained in Rome nearly two years, and painted 
 while there an altar-piece for the Chiesa Nuova which pos- 
 esses no eminent merits. The first picture proving too 
 bright in color for the light in which it was hung, he re- 
 placed it by a free copy painted on slate and of a lower 
 tone. He afterwards took the original with him back to 
 Flanders, where he hung it as a votive offering in the 
 church where his mother was buried. After painting this 
 
20O THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 picture he joined Vincenzo at Genoa, where he painted an 
 altar-piece for the Church of St. Ambrogio, also a moderate 
 performance. In the fall of 1606 he returned to Rome, and 
 here he painted the St. Sebastian, now in the Corsini Gal- 
 lery, where the splendid flesh of the youthful martyr reveals 
 the hand of the mighty master that is yet to emerge from 
 all those futile strivings. 
 
 In 1606 Rubens was present at an event that afforded 
 him rare delight — the unearthing in the gardens of the 
 Esquiline of the Aldobrandini Marriage, perhaps the most 
 charming picture that has come down to us from Roman 
 days. Now in the Vatican Library, it is a thing of great 
 beauty despite its hasty treatment, and its three hundred 
 years of exposure to the light. In the freshness of its first 
 discovery it must have been rarely lovely. In his last letter 
 to his friend Peiresc, written thirty years afterward, Rubens 
 speaks with enthusiasm of this exquisite work, of which 
 Peiresc had sent him a copy. 
 
 If Rubens had painted nothing in Italy except his religious 
 pictures, he could have made no great impression at a time 
 when Guido Reni, Domenichino, Guercino, Caravaggio and 
 other distinguished men were creating works which, if less 
 esteemed than formerly, still delight the eye. Yet as early 
 as 1607 Gaspard Scioppius wrote of him : " My friend 
 Peter Paul Rubens, in whom I know not which to praise 
 the most, his ability in painting, in which he occupies the 
 most exalted rank attained by any man of this century, 
 or his knowledge of literature, or his enlightened taste, and 
 the all too rare agreement between his words and his deeds." 
 
 We know, too, that Rubens' fame was at this time so ex- 
 tended that the Archduke Albert earnestly desired his re- 
 turn to Flanders, and wrote the Duke Vincenzo to send him 
 home; and that Vincenzo esteemed his services at so high 
 a rate that he declined the request, preferring to offend a 
 son of the German emperor and his wife, the daughter of 
 
RUBENS aoi 
 
 the King of Spain, rather than give up his painter. It is 
 recorded also that when Rubens returned to Antwerp 
 his fame had preceded him and he was greeted aS a 
 master. 
 
 The sacred pictures that Rubens had painted up to this 
 time could inspire no such enthusiasm. Whence, then, did 
 it spring? 
 
 Like most of the gentlemen of his time, Rubens had two 
 religions, that of Christ and that of the Greeks and Ro- 
 mans. His Christianity was sincere, but his adoration of 
 the gods of Greece was not less genuine. His life was to 
 be devoted chiefly to the illustration of two books, the Gos- 
 pels and the " Metamorphoses " of Ovid. By the natural 
 bent of his exuberant genius he was far closer to the ancient 
 faith with its exultation in the joy and fruitfulness of na- 
 ture than to the teachings of the Man of Sorrows. Life, 
 not renunciation, was what appealed to him. In later years 
 he was to paint some of the noblest religious pictures in all 
 the world ; but in his lusty youth the sad lesson that Christ 
 came to teach made but slight impression on one who 
 looked upon the world and saw that it was good, filled with 
 lovely things and replete with the means of enjoyment. 
 So there welled up in his heart the old pagan loVe of the 
 beauty of earth and the gladness of living ; and he who was 
 later to illustrate the Gospels with surpassing power first 
 showed his genius in displaying the charms of the " Meta- 
 morphoses." 
 
 Of the pagan pictures that Rubens painted in Italy we 
 have no record. Religious pictures are generally easily 
 traced by the records of churches and monasteries ; but the 
 pagan ones were the orders of private individuals, most fre- 
 quently given by word of mouth, or else were painted by 
 the master for the joy they brought him. Hence there is 
 the greatest difference of opinion as to their dates. M. 
 Max Rooses, who has given his whple life to the study of 
 
202 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Rubens, assigns to his Italian residence some of the finest 
 of his pagan works. 
 
 The first of these are supposed to be the Drunken Her- 
 cules and the Fame Crownvng a Hero, now at Dresden. 
 They are the beginning of that wonderful series devoted to 
 the glorification of the flesh that constitutes Rubens' most 
 indisputable triumph. The forms are heavy and wanting 
 in refinement ; but they have their voluptuous beauty and a 
 vitality which is afterwards to grow more intense, but 
 which already surpasses the power of common men. 
 
 The Romulus and Remus of the Capitol was also prob- 
 ably painted in Italy. It is Rubens' first known picture of 
 children. It is not equal to many that he was afterward 
 to paint ; the colors are a little dry and hard ; but still it has 
 an exceed|ing charm and vitality. 
 
 The Drinking Satyr and Laughing Faun at Munich, a 
 most vigorous presentation of the animal joy of life, was 
 also the work of these early days. To this period, too, M. 
 Rooses assigns one of Rubens' masterpieces, the Toilet of 
 Venus in the Leichenstein Gallery. Seated updraped be- 
 fore her mirror, Venus turns her back to the spectator. 
 Large and opulent in her form, her flesh is yet firm, with 
 none of the fatty degeneration apparent in many of Rubens' 
 later works, and it is molded and realized with convincing 
 power. The superb creature lives and palpitates before 
 our eyes, full of the consciousness of her beauty and of 
 capacity for every joy. She pleases her painter so much 
 that she reappears in many of his pictures. She is seated 
 in the same position watching Fame that crowns the Hero; 
 she is one of the daughters of Cecrops beside the cradle of 
 Erecthonius ; she is the Magdalen who receives the feet of 
 Christ as he is lifted from the cross. Everywhere she is 
 superb; everywhere she is strong, voluptuous, beautiful, a 
 thing made for the glory of earth; but nowhere is she so 
 intensely realized as in this first picture. It was evidently 
 
RUBENS 203 
 
 painted from the living model, while the others are probably 
 painted from it. 
 
 These early pictures, conspicuous among which is the 
 Four Quarters of the Globe at Vienna, are interesting as 
 showing that the love of over-full and voluptuous forms 
 was innate with Rubens, and not the result of his Flemish 
 surroundings. For years he had been in Italy among 
 women of classic grace of proportions. All the Italian 
 painters about him, whose highest aim was ever to paint 
 MM bel corpo ignudo, were displaying upon the canvas fig- 
 ures that were not unworthy of Grecian days. The models 
 whom Rubens found in the studios were no doubt such as 
 Guido and Carracci loved. Yet he turns from them and 
 seeks women of a riper and more sensual type, — the type 
 to which he adhered to the end. It is not surprising that 
 when Guido Reni saw these pictures, he exclaimed, " Surely 
 this man mixes his colors with blood." 
 
 Yet he was not incapable of appreciating less exuberant 
 types of beauty. In the picture at St. Petersburg showing 
 the River God Tiber (or Tigris) and Abundance, the 
 n)anph who faces the spectator and leans gracefully upon 
 the urn whence flows the stream is of an almost classic 
 purity of form, beautifully developed, but without redun- 
 dancy — a figure that would have delighted the eye of 
 Apelles. 
 
 It is remarkable that despite his long residence in Italy 
 the technique of Rubens remained thoroughly Flemish. He 
 imitated the dark shadows of Caravaggio, but he produced 
 them in his own way, with the richness of paint that he had 
 leajrned in the studios of Van Noort and Van Veen. 
 ^On October 26, 1608, while at Rome, Rubens received 
 intelligence that the mother whom he loved so much and 
 whom he had not seen for eight years was stricken with a 
 dangerous illness, and he immediately departed for Ant- 
 werp, writing a letter to Vincenzo's minister, promising to 
 
204 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 return. News traveled slowly in those days, and the dear 
 old lady had died at the age of seventy-two five days be- 
 fore Rubens learned that she was sick. Of this he knew 
 nothing, and pushed on with post-haste, hoping to embrace 
 her again before her death. When at last he reached her 
 home in the Kloosterstraat, whither she had removed years 
 before from the more pretentious dweUing in the Meir, and 
 found that she had passed away, his grief was poignant. 
 
 Ill 
 
 RETURN TO ANTWERP AND FIRST MARRIAGE 
 
 Rubens found Philip at Antwerp, occupying the post 
 of municipal secretary, and in high favor with the magis- 
 trates. He took up his abode in the Kloosterstraat home. 
 His sister Blandine was dead, and the two brothers, though 
 sustained by their mutual affection, were sad enough as 
 they saw on every hand reminders of the devoted mother 
 who had loved them so much and had made so many sac- 
 rifices for their happiness. 
 
 At first Rubens contemplated a return to Italy ; but wiser 
 counsels finally prevailed. Italy was a decaying country, 
 slowly dying under the bigotry of Spain. In the eight 
 years that he had spent beneath Italian skies, Rubens had 
 learned all that the land could teach him. Flanders, on 
 the other hand, was pulsing with vitality. Under the wise 
 rule of the Archduke Albert, trade had revived. A love 
 for learning and the fine arts had awakened in every breast. 
 Plantin's great printing press was turning out many of the 
 finest books ever printed. Persecution was a thing of the 
 past, and the minds of men, released from the long strain, 
 were filled with the joy of life. The churches which had 
 been desecrated by the iconoclasts demanded the services 
 
RUBENS 205 
 
 of artists to adorn their walls. Many new palaces and re- 
 ligious edifices were being erected. Though the port of 
 Antwerp remained closed, manufactures were reviving the 
 city's prosperity. It would have been madness to leave 
 this scene of buoyant life, to go back to dying Italy. So 
 Rubens was persuaded to remain. Philip used all his influ- 
 ence in his brother's favor. Rubens' own delightful man- 
 ners, varied culture and handsome person won him the 
 good will of all he met ; and he soon found himself in that 
 full tide of fortune that was to experience no ebb until his 
 death. 
 
 Like Antaeus, Rubens derived new life from contact 
 with his native soil. All his studies of the great masters, 
 which had borne such indifferent fruit beneath Southern 
 skies, now blossomed out into unexampled splendor. 
 
 One of his first undertakings was the Adoration of the 
 Kings which is now in the Prado. This was painted in 
 1609 for the City Hall. Rubens afterward surpassed it in 
 splendor ; but he alone could do so. Great in size, crowded 
 with figures, with lights and shadows somewhat over-ac- 
 centuated, there is yet a power in the rendition of the forms, 
 a brilliancy of color, a teeming vitality, which for the first 
 time reveal the mighty master in the plenitude of his 
 strength. When on September i, 1612, the Count d'Oliva, 
 ambassador extraordinary of the Spanish King, set sail 
 from Antwerp on his return, the^tity council presented him 
 with this picture, the burgomaster declaring it to be " the 
 rarest and most precious gift in the possession of the mag- 
 istracy," which was but the truth. Antwerp had never pos- 
 sessed such a treasure. Some years afterward when 
 D'Oliva lost his head, Philip the Fourth added the picture 
 to the royal collection; and on his trip to Spain in 1628 
 Rubens largely repainted it. 
 
 This is a subject that Rubens treated many times, with 
 ever increasing mastery, until he reached the presentation 
 
2o6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 that adorns the Antwerp Museum; but even in this first 
 great picture there is already conclusive evidence that a 
 star of the first magnitude has swum into our ken. 
 
 On September 23, 1609, the Archduke Albert appointed 
 Rubens court painter with a salary of 500 Flemish pounds, 
 exemption from taxation, and the permission to inscribe 
 his pupils in the Guild of St. Luke. This appointment pos- 
 sessed the still greater advantage that it freed Rubens from 
 the vexatious restrictions of the Guild. 
 
 The Archduke and his Archduchess, who were far in ad- 
 vance of the bigotry of the time, governed Flanders with 
 great wisdom and justice, granting a measure of tolerance 
 unknown elsewhere in the dominions of Spain; and they 
 would have removed all restrictions on the freedom of re- 
 ligious worship had the courts of Madrid and Rome per- 
 mitted. This was the more exemplary because they were 
 themselves devoted Catholics. They interested themselves 
 in every movement for the development of their states, and 
 were pleased to mingle in the public festivals. They loved 
 the honest Flemish people, and they were warmly loved in 
 return. 
 
 They soon perceived that Rubens' gifts as a man were 
 equal to his genius as an artist; and they did all in their 
 power to attract him to their court. The Archduke learned 
 that none of his ministers was better capable of advising 
 him on affairs of state, and he discussed the most serious 
 matters with his painter. He would have been glad to 
 persuade Rubens to take up his abode at Brussels ; but the 
 latter was attached to the city where he had made his home, 
 and he felt that nowhere else could he pursue his labors to 
 such advantage ; for at Antwerp, not at Brussels, were as- 
 sembled the artists of Flanders. 
 
 In 1609, Rubens was admitted to the Guild of the Roman- 
 ists, composed of artists and scholars who had resided in 
 Italy. Here he found the same spirit of humanistic cul- 
 
RUBENS 207 
 
 ture, the same love of antiquity, of the art and literature 
 of Greece and Rome, that had reigned in Italy in the days 
 of Lorenzo de' Medici. The spirit of the Renaissance, that 
 joy in the beauty of this world and that love for " the glory 
 that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome," which 
 was dying out in the South, was strong in the breasts of 
 the cultured men of Flanders. In the Guild Rubens found 
 friends who shared all his tastes and enthusiasms, and 
 the esteem in which he was held is shown by his elec- 
 tion as president when he had been but four years a 
 member. 
 
 Already a prosperous man, on October 3, 1609, Rubens 
 married Isabella Brant, daughter of Jan Brant, the city 
 registrar, and a niece of Philip's wife. Though already 
 thirty-two, Rubens was just on the threshold of his career. 
 Isabella was eighteen, fresh, sweet-tempered, fair to look 
 upon, intelligent, a good housewife, dev6ted to her hand- 
 some and accomplished husband, admirably suited to create 
 about him that atmosphere of peace and comfort in which 
 his genius could best develop. Rubens, on his part, was 
 the most loving and considerate of husbands, kind, gentle, 
 affectionate, one who found all his happiness in his home. It 
 is strange that the man whose art is the supreme apotheosis 
 of the power and the joy of the flesh should have been a 
 model of the domestic virtues. Looking at Rubens' pictures, 
 one would imagine him a profligate and a wassailer, when 
 in fact he was a man of most regular and honorable life, 
 who spent his days in work and his nights in the bosom of 
 his family. The marriage, which was to bring so much 
 happiness to both, took place in the abbey church of St. 
 Michael, the church where reposed the body of Rubens' 
 mother. 
 
 Shortly after his marriage Rubens painted the delight- 
 ful group at Munich, his wife sitting at his feet, her hand 
 upon his, while he inclines lovingly toward her. It is 
 
2o8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 springtime in nature as in their hearts, and the flowers are 
 in bloom about them. 
 
 Already the powers of the master must have been gen- 
 erally recognized; for on May ii, 1610, Rubens had writ- 
 ten a letter that has come down to us, declining to accept 
 a new pupil on the ground that his atelier was already 
 over-crowded, and saying that he had already turned away 
 more than a hundred applicants, though many of them had 
 been recommended by great personages or by his closest 
 friends. 
 
 On June 10, 1610, Rubens began a work which was to 
 proclaim him a master without a rival among the painters 
 of his day. He was afterward to paint many works 
 greater than the Elevation of the Cross; but its prodigious 
 force announced the arrival of a titan in the realm of art. 
 The powerful figure of Christ nailed to the cross might 
 well serve for Prometheus chained to the rocks of Cau- 
 casus ; but instead of the defiance and hate on the face of 
 the Greek demi-god, Christ looks up to heaven with an ex- 
 pression of supreme resignation. Indeed this face is the 
 most Christ-like of all that Rubens painted. Rubens has 
 chosen the moment when the cross is half-way raised. It 
 cuts diagonally across the picture with tragic intensity, and 
 the strong men are straining every muscle to lift the mighty 
 burden. There are dark shadows and fierce high-lights, 
 and the color is not fused as in Rubens' later works; but 
 the anatomy is worthy of Michelangelo, and the flesh paint- 
 ing is already wonderful. We stand in the presence of a 
 masterpiece. Painted for the church of St. Walburga, it 
 now hangs in the cathedral at Antwerp. 
 
 Rubens on his marriage went to live with his father-in- 
 law; but by January 4, 161 1, he was already in such pros- 
 perous circumstances that he was able to pay 7,600 florins 
 for the handsome house with extensive grounds on the 
 Wapper in the center of the town, which was to be his 
 
RUBENS 209 
 
 principal home for the rest of his days, and which, cut in 
 two and sadly mutilated, still survives. Nor was he con- 
 tent with the mansion as it stood. He proceeded to make 
 many additions and improvements, erecting large studios 
 in connection with it, and adorning it in sumptuous style, 
 so that it was not until the beginning of 1616 that he took 
 possession. The improvements which he put upon the 
 house and grounds far exceeded the original cost. 
 
 On August 26, 161 1, Rubens suffered a bitter sorrow. 
 His beloved brother Philip, to whom he had been so closely 
 united by a congeniality of tastes, passed away. He was 
 accorded a splendid funeral; and a touch of the manners 
 of the time is revealed in the fact that there was spent on 
 the funeral banquet as much as it had cost to support 
 Philip's entire household for four months. The dead man 
 was greatly esteemed by his fellow citizens. Many ad- 
 dresses were delivered, and these, along with a selection 
 of Philip's writings, were preserved in a handsomely printed 
 volume. It must be said, however, that while everything 
 that Rubens wrote is a model of clearness and good taste, 
 the compositions of Philip are characterized by the stilted 
 and artificial style then in vogue. 
 
 Shortly after Philip's death, and no doubt in loving mem- 
 ory, Rubens painted the delightful group in the Pitti known 
 as the Philosophers, representing Philip with his master, 
 the great jurist Justus Lipsius, and his beloved fellow-pupil, 
 Jan van der Wouwere, while Rubens himself is seen in the 
 background. M. Rooses and others , attribute this picture 
 to Rubens' Italian days; but the masterly execution and 
 Rubens' mature appearance, together with the fact that he 
 is already growing bald, indicate that it was painted after 
 the return to Antwerp; an opinion shared by M. Michel 
 and others equally competent to judge. 
 
 Philip's death added to Rubens' cares. He became the 
 guardian of the orphaned children, and the guardianship of 
 
2IO THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 the children of his sister Blandine, in which Philip had 
 shared, now devolved on him alone. We may be sure that 
 he assumed his new burdens without reluctance, and that 
 he discharged them in an exemplary manner. 
 
 Philip's eldest son, who bore his name and shared his 
 scholarly tastes, afterwards repaid Rubens' care by writing 
 of him a Latin biography, to which we are indebted for 
 many details of the master's life. 
 
 The Guild of Arquebusiers, of which Rubens' friend the 
 Burgomaster Rockox, a most learned and accomplished 
 gentleman, was the president, desired an altar-piece for the 
 cathedral; and on September 12, 161 1, they gave to Rubens 
 the order that was to produce one of the great masterpieces 
 of religious painting. As Leonardo's Last Supper is the 
 one presentment that arises before the mind's eye whenever 
 the subject is mentioned, so Rubens' Descent from the 
 Cross enjoys an equal preeminence among pictures deal- 
 ing with its theme. He' afterwards painted better, with 
 a more supple handling, a more delightful fusing of colors, 
 a clearer brilliance; but already the technique is masterly, 
 while the composition is supremely perfect. How like a 
 dead thing the beautiful body sinks from the cross ! With 
 what loving reverence is it handled by all, from the strong 
 men upon the ladders to the beautiful Magdalen who kneels 
 to receive the feet! What faultless unity in feeling and 
 action! What admirable restraint in the expression of 
 sorrow ! In the perfection of its solemn harmony it is like 
 the Largo of Handel. The sky is overcast, but a miraculous 
 light that comes we know not whence, illumines the body 
 of the Christ and aids in making it the picture's center. 
 
 This masterpiece placed Rubens at once in a position 
 apart, as beyond comparison the greatest painter of his time. 
 It made such an impression that he had to paint six other 
 pictures of the same subject; none of which, however, 
 equals the first. It also resulted in such vast numbers of 
 
RUBENS 211 
 
 commissions that Rubens had to set up his great manufac- 
 tory of pictures, the most extensive thing of the kind known 
 to history. 
 
 In these days a picture is expected to be only a work 
 of art for its own sake and to be painted by a single hand. 
 In those days pictures were looked upon as parts of deco- 
 rative schemes. The object was only to make something 
 beautiful, and the collaboration of pupils and assistants was 
 the rule rather than the exception. But no one ever car- 
 ried this system so far as Rubens, nor with such success. 
 He gathered around him great numbers of pupils and as- 
 sistants. He studied them all, and perceived unerringly 
 for what each was best fitted. He designed the pictures, 
 and put his pupils at work painting the background and ac- 
 cessories, reserving usually the principal personages for his 
 own brush. Many of these assistants could do the humbler 
 parts entrusted to them almost as well as the master him- 
 self ; and so Rubens was enabled to turn out an incredible 
 number of pictures all stamped with the mark of his genius. 
 More than twelve hundred works, most of them of large 
 dimensions, emanated from his busy workshop. Many of 
 these were painted by his own hand alone ; many were made 
 by pupils from his designs; but in the great majority 
 master and pupils collaborated. This system was a great 
 blessing to the world. In this way all the galleries of Eu- 
 rope from Madrid to St. Petersburg are filled with gorgeous 
 masterpieces that are for all practical purposes as good as 
 if Rubens' hand alone had touched them. 
 
 This enormous output was rendered possible only by 
 Rubens' intensely creative imagination. He thought in 
 pictures. When he read his favorite authors the events 
 they portrayed stood forth before his mind's eye as in a 
 tableau, and with a few masterly strokes he made his as- 
 sistants comprehend his idea. His own method of painting, 
 too, was characterized by a greater economy of labor than 
 
212 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 that of any other artist. He could ^ do more with a cer- 
 tain number of brush-strokes than any of his rivals. Yet 
 he painted finished pictures, not sketches. The point in 
 which he differs from all competitors is this — his pic- 
 tures are seen to best advantage in their details at the 
 precise distance at which they are best grasped as a whole. 
 There is no sacrifice of the details, as in so many modem 
 productions ; but they are so broadly rendered that they are 
 fully perceived only when one stands far enough away to 
 comprehend the painting in its entirety. This marvelous 
 intuition enabled him to work rapidly and with extreme 
 effectiveness. 
 
 In the conduct of the business Rubens was scrupulously 
 honest. When the picture was ordered he stipulated what 
 part should be done by his own hand, and charged in pro- 
 portion to the amount of his own work, at the rate, it is 
 said, of loo florins a day. If he sold 'a picture, the pur- 
 chaser was informed what portion of it he had painted, what 
 had been done by his assistants. 
 
 One result of his system was that he was punctual in 
 his dealings with his patrons to a degree scarcely known 
 among artists. When he promised that a work should be 
 done at a given time, it was promptly finished. Tirelessly in- 
 dustrious himself and most methodical in all he did, he was 
 able to instil into all about him the same habits of regular 
 industry. 
 
 Usually he preferred to paint on boards covered with 
 a grayish white plaster. On this he would sketch in the 
 composition in brown. His assistants would paint the parts 
 that suited their talents best, and then he would come, and 
 with a marvelous and unequaled economy of labor, paint 
 the chief personages, and with a few masterly strokes of 
 the brush sweep the whole composition into faultless unity, 
 so that no trace of the diverse origin remained. 
 
 His choice of wood is justified by the results. Owing 
 
RUBENS 213 
 
 perhaps to the plaster coating, his pictures on wood have 
 as a rule a greater brilliance of color than those he painted 
 on canvas. 
 
 The carrying on of such a factory is a work of supreme 
 difficulty. Artists are sensitive and high-strung; apt to be 
 jealous of one another and intolerant of control. But 
 Rubens, like Raphael, was able by his tact, his kindness, 
 his justice and his generous praise of deserving work, to 
 attach all his assistants to him with ties of admiration and 
 affection, and to procure their harmonious cooperation. 
 All of them were glad to subordinate themselves to the 
 master, and to work out his designs in letter and in 
 spirit. From this time the productions of Rubens' studio 
 are so numerous that we can mention only the most 
 important, which stand out as mile-stones on his triumphant 
 progress. 
 
 Not only was Rubens kind to his pupils and assistants; 
 he was equally kind to all his brother artists. He visited 
 their studios, encouraged them with discriminating praise, 
 gave them advice so tactfully that none was offended, and, 
 if they requested it, he would even take up the brush and 
 with a stroke of genius give life to their compositions. 
 Owing to his influence' peace and good-will reigned su- 
 preme among the painters of his city. All of them loved 
 him, and all were glad to collaborate with him in the pro- 
 duction of any work. Foremost among them was Snyders, 
 ^Jerhaps the greatest master in the painting of wild ani- 
 mals, who often cooperated with Rubens, painting the wild 
 beasts and the landscape, while the master made the figures.^ 
 Two years younger than Rubens, he was working with him 
 as early as 1616, and had then painted the eagle in Rubens' 
 Prometheus. Like all of Rubens' friends, he was devoted 
 to the end, and was named one of the executors of 
 Rubens' will. Their styles agreed so completely that the 
 result of their collaboration is perfect harmony. Perhaps 
 
214 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 the most marvelous result of their cooperation is the Medusa 
 at Vienna, painted in imitation of the one ascribed to Leo- 
 nardo in the Uffizi, but surpassing that and all else in its 
 gruesome horror. 
 
 Rubens was Snyders' equal in the rendition of animals. 
 He painted many with a skill that Snyders never surpassed. 
 It is recorded that once he had a strolHng lion-tamer bring 
 his beast into his studio, and offered him a large sum to 
 make the brute open his mouth by tickling him under the 
 chin. But the king of beasts resented such familiarity, 
 and was with difficulty restrained from devouring his host. 
 This was probably while Rubens was painting the Lion 
 Hunt at Munich. But Rubens' rule was to do nothing 
 that others could do as well; and so he availed himself 
 freely of Snyders' services in painting the animals, plants, 
 fruits and backgrounds, reserving for himself the human 
 figure, in whose treatment none of his pupils could com- 
 pare with him. 
 
 Another leading painter of the time, who often co- 
 operated with Rubens, was " Velvet " Brueghel. It must 
 have been mutual affection that brought them together, for •. 
 two men could not be farther apart in their technical ' 
 processes. The vigorous, broadly painted figures of Ru- 
 bens are strangely out of place in Brueghel's dainty land- 
 scapes. In the Earthly Paradise at the Hague the great 
 man toned his style down to its surroundings and painted 
 as daintily as Brueghel himself; but the result is far from 
 satisfactory. Instead of raising Brueghel, he merely sinks 
 to the latter's level. Brueghel and Rubens were fast 
 friends to the end, and Rubens was one of the guardians 
 of Brueghel's children. 
 
 The most esteemed of all the master's assistants was 
 Anton van Dyck. Of an aristocratic Antwerp family, he 
 came into Rubens' studio in 1618 at the age of nineteen, 
 and remained with him for three years. He so perfectly 
 
RUBENS 21S 
 
 assimilated the style of his master that it is usually difficult 
 and sometimes impossible to distinguish the works that he 
 painted under Rubens' influence from those of the master 
 himself. Of late it has been the fashion to take pictures 
 from Rubens and assign them to Van Dyck until there 
 have been attributed to the younger man more than fifty 
 portraits that issued from Rubens' studio, besides a great 
 number of religious and mythological pieces; an amount of' 
 work, in fact, that Briareus could not have done within 
 the three years if he had held a brush in each hand. Still, 
 while such attributions lead to manifest absurdity, it is cer- 
 tain that the gifted and facile pupil was of immense as- 
 sistance to the master. 
 
 During the eighteenth century someone invented the 
 unjust story that Rubens sent Van Dyck away from mo- 
 tives of jealousy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. 
 In his commanding position Rubens could have had no 
 cause to be jealous of any man. On the contrary, he was 
 never tired of praising Van Dyck; and when he advised 
 him to go to Italy, it was because he felt that he had 
 taught him all he could, and that in Italy alone, whose 
 treasures had not then suffered the wide dispersal that ■ 
 modern times have brought, could the young man attain 
 his full development. And he was right. It was in Italy 
 and in the school of Titian that Van Dyck became the mas- 
 ter that we know. When they parted Rubens gave him 
 his finest horse and letters to his influential friends beyond 
 the Alps, while Van Dyck presented his master with a beau- , 
 tiful portrait of Isabella Brant. 
 
 Rubens stood so high in favor that the Archduke Albert 
 acted as god-father to his first son, bestowing upon the 
 infant his own name. 
 
 It was his own children that gave Rubens his joy in the 
 painting of infancy. The Garland of Fruit at Munich, the 
 Infant Christ and St. John with two Infant Angels at Ber- 
 
2i6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 lin, and the Jesus playing with St. John at Vienna are per- 
 haps the most deHghtful of these; liut they are to be seen 
 everywhere, babies beautiful as the morning, radiant in 
 their exuberant health, pulsing with the joy of awakening 
 life. Raphael's infants are more spiritual, those of Titian 
 have a more perfect grace of form ; but no one has equaled 
 Rubens in depicting the gladness of childhood or the satiny 
 sheen of infant flesh. 
 
 Rubens was the man for the hour. The Jesuits, with 
 their accustomed sagacity, were among the first to perceive 
 that the time for persecution had passed, that the world 
 was disgusted with the fagot and the stake, so that for 
 each heretic burned ten good Catholics were alienated from 
 the Church. So they turned to win the hearts of men, and 
 to make the services alluring to the senses and to the soul. 
 They built gorgeous churches, which they filled with picr 
 tures equally gorgeous, with richest music and the smoke 
 of incense. Highly cultivated, they led in the study of the 
 classics, and the spirit of humanism penetrated their ser- 
 mons. Rubens, who had always stood well with their so- 
 ciety, was the only man who could paint pictures entirely 
 suited to their purpose, imposing in dimensions, rich in 
 color, animated in action, noble and elevated in sentiment, 
 but withal most human. A good Catholic, his kind and 
 generous heart rebelled against the spirit of persecution; 
 and he was the ablest of all the assistants of the Jesuits in 
 their efforts to allure the world back into the bosom of the 
 faith. For the Jesuits Rubens painted many pictures, con- 
 spicuous among which are the Miracles of St. Ignatius and 
 the Miracles of St. Francis Xavier, which are now at 
 Vienna. In the first of these are people sick with epilepsy 
 and hysteria painted with such discernment that Drs. Char- 
 cot and Richer declare that they reveal the deeper charac- 
 teristics of those maladies discovered by modern science. 
 
 For his friend the Burgomaster Rockox, who presented 
 
RUBENS 217 
 
 it to the church of the Recollets, Rubens painted what some 
 consider the greatest of his religious works, the Coup de 
 Lance, now in the Antwerp Gallery. The majestic figure 
 of Christ hanging from the cross bathed in the full light 
 of the setting sun, the mounted centurion who, turning his 
 back to the light, buries his lance in the Saviour's side ; the 
 despairing gesture of the beautiful Magdalen kneeling at 
 the foot of the cross in pathetic protest against this final 
 desecration; the crucified thieves, the weeping Marys, all 
 combine to make a work of surpassing dignity and power. 
 Unhappily it is now so hung that one cannot get far enough 
 away to see it properly. 
 
 In the Communion of St. Francis, also in the same 
 Museum, Rubens showed that he could, without loss of ef- 
 fect, dispense with the bright colors that he loved. Its 
 tones are somber and brown, almost monochrome, but it is a 
 great work, full of power and pathos. 
 
 Another of his religious pictures that must be mentioned 
 is his St. Ambrose refusing Admittance to the Church at 
 Milan to the Emperor Theodosius after the Massacre at 
 Salonica. It is an admirable expression of the superiority 
 of spiritual to earthly power. Majestic in archiepiscopal 
 robes, the saint with noble dignity repulses the monarch 
 stained with his people's blood, and the proud and warlike 
 ruler surrounded by his soldiers and chieftains bows in 
 penitent submission. 
 
 There were also a great many pictures of the Madonna, 
 in which his wife often figures, either as the Mother of 
 God or as an attendant saint, while the painter's sons, Al- 
 bert and Nicholas, figure as Christ and John the Baptist. 
 
 Of all his religious pictures the most perfect is the St. 
 Jldefonso Altar-piece at Vienna, showmg the Madonna giv- 
 ing the chasuble to St. Ildefonso while the Archduke and 
 Archduchess kneel on either side. In the glory of its color, 
 the softness of its handling, the harmony of its composi- 
 
2i8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 tion, the grace and dignity of the attitudes, it stands su- 
 preme. It is evident that in this tribute to the rulers to 
 whom he owed so much the master has done his best to 
 prove his gratitude. 
 
 Another great masterpiece is his Conversion of St. Paul 
 at Berlin. In its vitality, in the wild excitement of the rear- 
 ing horses, in its rich color, it is truly splendid. It is 
 scarcely a religious picture at all ; but its intense action and 
 the sense of overflowing energy that fills it make it a thing 
 for deepest admiration. Still further removed from the 
 Christian spirit is his beautiful Magdalen in the same gal- 
 lery. Here all semblance of religious feeling has disap- 
 peared. The saint is but a pagan Venus, the attendant 
 angels are only cupids ; but he is indeed a bigot who would 
 have it otherwise, so lovely is the work. 
 
 It is astonishing what a number of these vast and ad- 
 mirable compositions Rubens was able to turn out. Only 
 the most indefatigable industry and a mastery of the brush 
 that enabled him to produce his effects with fewer strokes 
 than any other painter, could accomplish this result. 
 His pictures are not merely immense sketches where every 
 brush-stroke shows, like most of the religious paintings of 
 Tintoretto and a great part of the most esteemed works 
 of to-day. They are finished to an ultimate perfection, 
 leaving nothing to be supplied, but with incredible economy 
 of labor. With amazing virtuosity a single stroke does the 
 work of ten. 
 
 On September 13, 1621, Rubens wrote to William Trum- 
 bull, James I's diplomatic agent in Flanders, " I confess 
 that I am by natural instinct more fitted to execute works 
 of large size than little curiosities. Everyone according 
 to his lights; my talent is such that my courage has ever 
 been equal to any enterprise, however vast in size or di- 
 versified in subject." 
 
 The last words express a truth that is conspicuous. 
 
RUBENS 219 
 
 No painter ever handled large masses of figures with 
 such efJEectiveness. All remain individual, with a sepa- 
 rate interest, yet all blend together to produce the general 
 effect. ^ 
 
 Sometimes he carries this to an extreme, as in the large 
 Fall of the Rebel Angels and Last Judgment, at Munich, 
 pairited by his pupils after his designs, or in the smaller but 
 far more powerful Last Judgment and Fall of the Damned 
 in the same gallery, which were painted by his own hand. 
 The anatomical knowledge, the power of foreshortening, 
 the grasp of the attitudes of men and women falling through 
 the air, and struggling as they fall, are in these latter com- 
 positions beyond aJl praise. As we look at it we think that 
 The Fall of the Damned is the most terrible picture ever 
 painted. All these men and women hurled by St. Michael 
 toward the abyss of hell, seized by demons who torture 
 them and drag them down, writhing in every contortion of 
 agony, their faces and every attitude revealing the intensity 
 of their unspeakable suffering and despair, shock, repel 
 and fascinate like the " Inferno " of Dante. We look at them 
 and turn shuddering away, only to return again. Despite 
 the vast number of figures the impression is one of unity; 
 for, pulled hither and thither by the demons, they fall in 
 groups that relieve the composition of confusion and lend it 
 a certain coherence. Owing to his love of the nude female 
 figure, the master inserts into the picture a number of 
 women unusual in such representations ; so that here, as in 
 life, they can complain that man's love has done them 
 wrong. 
 
 Yet the small Last Judgment is more terrible still. It is 
 but another version of the Fall of the Damned, for the as- 
 sumption of the just occupies but a small part of the can- 
 vas and is scarcely noticed. In this picture the motion is 
 still more violent. The wretches falling to earth, to be 
 dragged into hell, whose lurid flames light up the lower right 
 
220 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 hand corner, struggle and fight to save themselves from 
 their fearful doom. The presentation of souls and bodies 
 in agony can go no farther. Less grand than Michel- 
 angelo's titanic version of the subject, it is more human, 
 and arouses a deeper sympathy. We feel that these volup- 
 tuous forms, whose sin has been perhaps only an excess of 
 earthly joy, can suffer in their soft flesh with unutterable 
 intensity. Our hearts go out to them. Their sins are not 
 d'epicted. We only see men and women falling through the 
 air, clutching wildly to save themselves, vainly striving to 
 beat back the pursuing fiends, sinking to a doom that no 
 guilt could merit. 
 
 "■ In hunting scenes Rubens has no rival. The excitement 
 and tumult of the chase are depicted with a power that no 
 one else ever attained. Whether the object of pursuit be 
 a lion, a wild boar, a wolf or a hippopotamus, the conflict 
 of armed men with ferocious beasts was never represented 
 with such intensity and force. Perhaps his masterpiece in 
 this line is the Lion Hunt at Munich, second only to Leo- 
 nardo's Battle of the Standard in depicting the ferocity of 
 the fight to death. 
 
 Meanwhile, Rubens was turning out a number of remark- 
 able portraits. Perhaps the most popular of all is the 
 Chapeau de Foil of the National Gallery, which represents 
 Susanna Fourment, whose youngest sister was to be Ru- 
 bens' second wife. In her luscious beauty and in the sweet 
 candor of her virgin face she is altogether lovely. Another 
 great portrait of these earlier days is the Jacqueline de 
 Cordes in the Brussels Gallery ; a great dame dnd a beautiful 
 woman of a high-born delicacy and refinement, painted 
 with exquisite charm and distinction. 
 
 The most characteristic of Rubens' works are the pic- 
 tures inspired by that classical mythology of which he was 
 so fond. They are innumerable, Per,seus and Andromeda, 
 and the Neptune and Amphitrite at Berlin, the Four Quar- 
 
RUBENS 221 
 
 ters of the Globe, and the Erecthonius and the Daitghters 
 of Cecrops at Vienna, the Venus and Adonis of the Uffizi, 
 and countless others. All are remarkable for their marvel- 
 ous painting of flesh that gleams and palpitates in the light, 
 for the voluptuous fullness of the female forms, for their 
 delight in the joy of living. They are the most sensuous 
 pictures ever painted, but there is in them nothing im- 
 moral. Immorality implies something morbid and un- 
 wholesome, while these pictures are running over with 
 buoyant health. It is the animal in man, but it is the 
 healthy, wholesome animal enraptured with existence. 
 Perhaps the most delightful of these is the Castor and 
 Pollux carrying off the Daughters of Leucippus, at Mu- 
 nich. The forms here are not redundant; in fact, they 
 are almost faultless in their proportions, while the flesh- 
 painting is of superb perfection. And while we are speak- 
 ing of flesh-painting, let us not forget the wonderful shoul- 
 ders and bosom of the Magdalen in Christ and the Re- 
 pentant Sinners, also at Munich, so exquisitely beautiful 
 in their satiny sheen that words are powerless to describe 
 them. 
 
 It was in the earlier days that Rubens painted those 
 effects of artificial light in the style that Elsheimer had 
 rendered popular, and which showed that Rubens could 
 have surpassed Hornthorst in his chosen field had he so 
 desired. The Old Woman with a Candle, the Old Woman 
 ■with a Brasier, the Venus Warming Herself, and above 
 all, the exquisitely lovely Flight into Egypt at Cassel, where 
 the light emanates from the Divine Child and contrasts with 
 the light of fading day, are marvels in their kind. But 
 color, not light, was Rubens' chosen field ; and usually he is 
 content with daylight effects, using the light only to heighten 
 the brilliancy of his hues. 
 
 Early in 1616 he moved into the stately home which he 
 h^d been so long preparing, and thenceforth his life was 
 
222 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 princely. An able man of business, systematic and orderly, 
 he kept within his means; but the earnings of his brush 
 were so great that his revenues were more than sufficient 
 for all his requirements. His treasures of art rapidly in- 
 creased. In 1618 he acquired the extensive collection of 
 Greek and Roman antiquities belonging to Sir Dudley Carl- 
 ton, English ambassador at The Hague, paying for them 
 chiefly with his own paintings. His gallery of Italian pic- 
 tures grew to be one of the most remarkable ever assembled 
 by a private individual. It embraced nineteen pictures by 
 Titian, seventeen by Tintoretto, seven by Paul Veronese, 
 four by Raphael, twenty-two by Bassano, and many more 
 besides. Most of these have passed to the Imperial Gal- 
 lery at Vienna, and constitute an important part of that 
 collection. And it was not the Italians alone who pleased 
 him. There were also many pictures by Van Dyck, Holbein 
 and other Northern masters. His collection became so ex- 
 tensive that he was compelled to erect in the garden a large 
 circular building lighted from the top, like the Pantheon, 
 so that they might be seen to advantage. 
 
 Naturally the home of Rubens became the show-place of 
 Antwerp. All distinguished visitors were conducted there, 
 to see the wonderful (iollection of masterpieces, the splen- 
 did mansion, and, above all, its noble owner, who rejoiced 
 to receive his guests, and who kept on at his work while en- 
 gaged in pleasant converse. 
 
 A great reader, he accumulated an extensive library 
 in many languages, a library which embraced a vast 
 variety of subjects, ' covering the whole field of science, 
 philosophy, literature and art. He ivas particularly fond 
 of the Latin classics and of works on Greek and Roman 
 archeology. His books finally became so numerous that he 
 was obliged to construct a buih^ng especially to contain 
 them. He also built another very large apartment lighted 
 from the top where his pupils and assistants labored. With 
 
RUBENS 223 
 
 so many pictures always on the easel, he required extensive 
 studio room, and this was liberally provided. 
 
 In his garden he took especial delight, filling it with rare 
 flowers and plants and beautiful trees, adorning it with a 
 handsome pavilion, where in summer he used to spend much 
 time with his friends. 
 
 The ordering of his life was admirable. He arose early, 
 De Piles says, at four o'clock, which seems improbable, 
 heard mass, breakfasted with continental simplicity, and 
 painted until noon, when he dined with his family. Then 
 he went back to work, and painted until five ; at which hour 
 he mounted one of his magnificent Andalusian horses, and 
 rode out into the country. At supper, which was simple, 
 he generally had guests. His conversation was delightful, 
 but serious. Gossip and frivolity were ignored. His 
 friends were men chosen for their culture and wisdom, 
 who had much to say that was worth while, and knew how 
 to say it ; and no matter what their language might be, the 
 master of the house could converse with them in their own 
 tongue, or could join them in Latin, then the universal lan- 
 guage of the learned. His voice was remarkably pleas- 
 ant. He spoke fluently, but with calmness and self-re- 
 straint. 
 
 He had a wonderful memory, and could quote long pas- 
 sages from Virgil and other favorite authors. While he 
 painted he usually had someone read to him, most fre- 
 quently from some Latin author. He was amazingly 
 versatile. In 1621 Dr. Otto Sperling visited him, and he 
 writes that when he entered he found Rubens at work at his 
 easel, while a person was reading to him from Tacitus and 
 Rubens was dictating a letter, Rubens entertained his 
 guests, continuing his work and finishing the dictation of 
 the letter in the pauses of the conversation, while the read- 
 ing went on. The Marquis Spinola, he who occupies the 
 chief position in Velasquez's Surrender of Breda, declared 
 
224 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 that Rubens possessed so many merits than in his opinion 
 painting was the least of them all. 
 
 His friend de Piles wrote of him : " The qualities with 
 which nature had endowed him and the virtues which he 
 acquired gave him the esteem and affection of all who 
 knew him. He was of large stature, commanding presence, 
 aijd his features were well formed and regular. His cheeks 
 were ruddy, his hair auburn, his eyes bright, but not pierc- 
 ing, his countenance smiling, agreeable and open. His 
 manners were engaging, his humor easy, his conversation 
 apt, his wit sparkling and keen, his fashion of speaking dig- 
 nified, and the sound of his voice most agreeable; all of 
 which natural charms made him most eloquent and per- 
 suasive." 
 
 Fortunately, Rubens, though a modest man, delighted, 
 like many other artists, to paint his own portrait, so that 
 we have many likenesses of him, and know how he looked 
 at every period of his life. We see him pass from 
 youth into maturity, from maturity to the beginning of life's 
 decline. At every stage the face is handsome, refined, 
 kindly, the face of a gentleman and a scholar who is also 
 an accomplished man of the world. When we look at this 
 face we find it difficult to believe that this accomplished 
 gentleman could be the author of those " banquets of the 
 flesh " which are his most characteristic productions and 
 his surest passport to immortality. Others may paint Ma- 
 donnas and Saints and Christs that are as noble as his ; but 
 no one else can approach him in revealing the power of the 
 flesh, its capacity for life and joy. Many are revolted by 
 these works, full of a sensuality far exceeding anything that 
 pagan art has left us ; but others equally pure find in them 
 no offense, only the apotheosis of the animal in the healthy 
 man and woman. 
 
 The pictures in which this disposition is most over- 
 whelming are his Processions of Silenus. The god, a great 
 
RUBENS ^ 225 
 
 fat drunkard in a state of beastly intoxication, staggers on, 
 supported by nymphs and satyrs, all exhilarated with the 
 juice of the vine. Many persons have suggested that Ru- 
 bens painted these as a protest against drunkenness, just 
 as Zola wrote " L'Assommoir," and Hogarth painted The 
 Rake's Progress. Nothing could be farther from the 
 truth. In those days, when the use of strong drink was unir 
 versal and its abuse a matter of every day occurrence, 
 drunkenness was regarded with indulgence. It is impossi- 
 ble to look at these pictures without perceiving that Rubens 
 painted them con amore, just as Ostade or Teniers painted 
 their drunken boors. That he did not paint them with any 
 idea of reprobation is apparent from the fact that he in- 
 troduces his own wife and children among the followers 
 of the tipsy god. He looked upon the scene as a Greek 
 would look upon the Bacchic revels, and delighted in the 
 joy that the Wine-God brought. His female satyrs with 
 their legs terminating in the shanks of a goat, supporting 
 their drunken lord, following in his wake, or suckling their 
 goat-footed progeny in attitudes of animal abandon, are 
 supremely gross. Yet truly they are magnificent in the 
 intensity of their vital force, in the joy that life brings 
 them — life, which to the most of us is but a pallid and 
 voiceless existence. Sensual as these pictures are, they are 
 supremely healthy. They are an apotheosis of the flesh and 
 its appetites raised to a degree of intensity far above the 
 capacity of ordinary mortals to reach ; but there is in it all 
 nothing morbid, nothing that is depraved. 
 
 Rubens enjoyed a fame so universal that no activity 
 with the brush, even assisted by his crowd of disciples, 
 could satisfy the demands for works by his hand. Every 
 one was clamoring for his pictures. He embodied the very 
 soul of his age, — its love for beauty, its sensuality, its fond- 
 ness for classic mythology, its reverence for a rehgion of 
 stately ceremonial and decorative splendor. So, in order 
 
226 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 to bring his productions within the reach of all he had re- 
 course to the arts of the engraver. For this purpose he 
 would make sketches of his pictures in black and -white, 
 and turn them over to be reproduced. It does not appear 
 that the engraver ever drew from the original painting. It 
 was on Sundays and feast days that Rubens did this work. 
 With his amazing facility he could turn off these drawings 
 with unparalleled rapidity. The proceeds of his engravings 
 he devoted to the purchase of books. This was his library 
 fund, and it was very large. Not only were his engravings 
 immensely popular, but he was the first man to enjoy inter- 
 national copyright. He had at the courts of Europe so 
 many influential friends that in 1619 he got his engravings 
 protected in Flanders and in France and in 1620 in Hol- 
 land. Further to secure himself against piracy, he dedi- 
 cated his plates to distinguished men, who thus felt in 
 honor bound to maintain his rights. In pursuing offenders 
 Rubens, always an admirable man of business, was active 
 and watchful, so that the sale of his engravings brought 
 him a considerable income. Further to popularize his 
 works he had a number of cheap wood-cuts struck off, 
 that brought them within the reach even of the poor. 
 
 However excellent may be these reproductions, they give 
 no idea of Rubens' genius. His was a genius for color, and 
 the black and white only preserves his forms, usually un- 
 couth and heavy, and the frigid allegories in which the age 
 delighted. Only he who beholds the originals in all their 
 surpassing splendor can comprehend his position among 
 the few supreme masters of his craft. Of colors so bril- 
 liant, of flesh painted with such skill that it shines and pal- 
 pitates as if alive, no copy can give a conception. Some 
 artists one can understand in one's library. Rubens can 
 only be comprehended in the great galleries of Europe. 
 
 It is supposed that he engraved a few plates himself, to 
 learn how it was done ; but practically he left the work to 
 
RUBENS ' 227 
 
 other hands. Many engravers were in his service. With 
 one of the best of these, Vorsterman, the master had the 
 only misunderstanding that he is ever recorded to have had 
 with any assistant in his labors. Vorsterman was so in- 
 toxicated with the success of the engravings that he con- 
 cluded that the whole merit was his, forgetting that he only 
 did the mechanical labor of transferring to the plate the 
 drawings that Rubens made for his use. As the world 
 saw in the engravings only the immortal works of the mas- 
 ter, and ignored the hand that held the graver, Vorsterman 
 came to think that Rubens was robbing him of wealth and 
 fame. He finally grew insane and threatened the master's 
 life, so that Rubens' friends urged him to have the lunatic 
 locked up. The master, however, declined to invoke the 
 protection of the law, and finally Vorsterman wandered off. 
 
 Vorsterman was succeeded by Paul du Pont, called 
 Pontius after the Latinizing fashion of the day; and then 
 came the brothers Bolswert, one of whom died in 1634, 
 while the other served Rubens to the end. These were 
 admirable masters of their craft, who managed to give in 
 black and white some idea of the rich tones of the pictures, 
 or rather, of Rubens' admirable drawings. Besides these 
 there were many other engravers of less note. The mas- 
 ter's marvelous facility enabled him to turn off in his few 
 leisure hours drawings enough to keep many busy with the 
 stylus. 
 
 One of the fashions of the day was to insert into books 
 a frontispiece setting forth in allegorical fashion the sub- 
 ject with which it dealt. Of these Rubens produced a 
 great many. His fertility in allegory was unlimited, if not 
 always in good taste. In applying for such a frontispiece 
 the Jesuit Father, Bauhusius well said that the illustrations to 
 a volume "are a recreation for the reader, a bait for the 
 purchaser, and, without much increasing the cost, an orna- 
 ment to the book." However, if Rubens had nothing to 
 
228 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 commend him save these frontispieces with tlieir frigid 
 conceits, he would justly be voted a bore. 
 
 In 1 62 1 the good Archduke passed away, and the sov- 
 ereignty of the land fell upon the Archduchess alone. They 
 had ruled together in admirable concord; but of the two 
 hers was the stronger mind, and the land suffered nothing 
 by the change. Though the daughter of the most cruel 
 bigot that ever sat upon a throne, of the man who caused 
 untold thousands to perish for their faith in slow agony 
 at the stake, and though she was so religious that after her 
 husband's death she usually dressed as a nun, she was wise 
 and tolerant, and the fires of persecution were not lighted 
 by her. She had the greatest confidence in Rubens, and 
 frequently called him to her councils. In 1624, at her re- 
 quest, the King of Spain granted him a patent of Nobility. 
 
 In January, 1622, Rubens undertook one of the greatest 
 schemes of decoration that any painter has ever achieved. 
 After the death of Henry IV, his widow Marie de' Medici 
 built the Luxembourg for her residence, imitating in its 
 architecture, as well as she could, the Pitti palace, her child- 
 hood's home. She wished to adorn it with pictures lauda- 
 tory of her career ; and Rubens was already so preeminently 
 the master-painter of the age that her thoughts naturally 
 turned to him. Besides, she was no doubt reminded of the 
 mighty Fleming by her sister Eleanora of Mantua, with 
 whom she kept up most affectionate relations and a close 
 correspondence. So Rubens was employed, and produced 
 the great series that now adorns the Louvre. 
 
 It was a hard task that was set before the painter. 
 Marie's life had been sordid and ignoble. Her marriage had 
 been without love and full of quarrels. Her regency 
 had brought her no glory, and since her son Louis XIII 
 had reached an age to rule, her time had been spent in un- 
 worthy intrigues against his government and open dissen- 
 sion with him. There were no illustrious actions, no stir- 
 
RUBENS 229 
 
 ring events to record; while few episodes in her career 
 could be touched upon without giving offense to her son 
 and to' Richelieu, his all powerful minister. So the only 
 escape from an intolerable situation was to fall back on 
 allegory and classical mythology. This Rubens did with 
 admirable results. 
 
 The pictures cannot be classed among his most pleasing 
 compositions. It is evident that he is working by com- 
 mand, making the most he can of an unworthy subject. It 
 is the spirit of the courtier that animates them, not the 
 genius of untrammeled artistic creation. Still, no one couldi 
 have done so much with such a theme. In splendor of 
 color they are supreme, while the rendering of the nude 
 figures of the gods is superb. The glorious Apollo is not 
 unworthy to stand beside his matchless fellow of the Belve- 
 dere. The female forms are, as usual, less refined and 
 more sensual than those of the men; but with what an ex- 
 uberance of buoyant life are they endowed! These won- 
 derful nudes bear the impress of the master's own hand, 
 and while in so vast a series the assistance of many dis- 
 ciples was essential, the composition was his, and many, 
 perhaps a majority, of the figures, felt the touch of his life- 
 giving brush. 
 
 In three years the immense task was done. To escape 
 the intrigues, gossip and dissension of the French court, 
 Rubens did the work at Antwerp ; but when they were nearly 
 finished, he carried the pictures to Paris, and completed 
 them in their places in the Luxembourg. Here the Queen 
 Mother became infatuated with the conversation of the 
 courtly painter, and spent the greater part of her time talk- 
 ing with Rubens while he worked. In this way the artist 
 learned much that was oi service to his own ruler, the 
 Infanta Isabella. 
 
 On one of the visits to Paris which this undertaking en- 
 tailed, Robens met the Duke of Buckingham, who ruled 
 
230 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 England in such a reckless manner as the irresponsible 
 minister of Charles I, and painted his portrait. Rubens' 
 drawing at Vienna is a wonderfully life-like presentation of 
 a wonderfully handsome man, whose activities should have 
 been confined to the courts of love. 
 
 While in Paris on the several visits necessitated by this 
 great undertaking, Rubens met two eminent French schol- 
 ars and statesmen, who were to become his most active 
 correspondents, Claude Fabri de Peiresc and Pierre Dupuis. 
 For many years he continued to exchange letters with 
 them, usually in Italian, sometimes in French, with a plenti- 
 ful admixture of Latin that would now be an affectation, 
 but which was natural in men with whom the language of 
 Virgil was almost as their native tongue. Some of these 
 letters have been preserved, and they bring much honor 
 to Rubens. His diction is clear and elegant, free from the 
 affectations of the time, while his scholarship is as con- 
 spicuous as his urbanity. The sentiments expressed are 
 uniformly just, and his views are enlightened, even when 
 judged by the standards of our time. The subjects most 
 frequently treated are archeology and politics. In the for- 
 mer field Rubens was a master, profoundly versed in all 
 that was then known of the life and art of the ancients. 
 His political ideas are so far above those -of the rulers of his 
 time that we are compelled to reflect how much happifer 
 the world would have been if this King of Painters had sat 
 upon an earthly throne. 
 
 Sincerely religious and attentive to all the services of 
 the Church, Rubens was yet free from the prevailing super- 
 stition. It was an age in which religious wars had so 
 heated the minds of men that miracles were an every day 
 occurrence; but in his letters Rubens treats these with 
 philosophic incredulity; his faith was animated by an en- 
 lightened aijd tolerant spirit. 
 
 His letters show a graceful modesty. Rarely does he 
 
RUBENS 231 
 
 speak of himself, and then without boasting. We can only 
 regret the absence of a vanity which might have preserved 
 for us so many interesting details of his life. 
 
 Rubens wrote only one formal essay that has come down 
 to us, his treatise on the " Imitation of Statues." No one, 
 not even Lessing in his " Laocoon," has better expressed the 
 difference between painting and sculpture, or better ex- 
 plained the advantages and the dangers attendant on the 
 study of antique marbles. Nothing is more illuminating 
 than his contrasting of the noble forms of the ancients, 
 perfected by daily exercise in the open air untrammeled 
 by burdensome clothing, with the degenerate forms of the 
 men and women of his days, where through ages of seden- 
 tary life the legs and arms have grown flabby, the paunch 
 protuberant. 
 
 On February 22, 1622, shortly after making the acquaint- 
 ance of Rubens, Peiresc wrote to their common friend 
 Gevaert : " I cannot sufficiently praise Rubens' courtesy, 
 or worthily celebrate his lofty virtue, great learning and 
 marvelous knowledge of antiquity, or his rare skill in 
 worldly affairs, the excellence of his hand, or the great 
 charm of his conversation, which, during his short visit to 
 Paris, afforded me the pleasantest entertainment that I 
 have enjoyed for a long time." 
 
 A year later Rubens suffered a gr^at loss. His daugh- 
 ter Clara, his eldest child, died on- March 21, 1623. The 
 most affectionate of parents, Rubens felt the blow keenly. 
 
 Three years later, a still greater calamity befell him; 
 Isabella Brant, his loving and faithful companion, who had 
 made his home so happy, passed away. Rubens did for her 
 in her sickness all in his power. He employed four doc- 
 tors and had prayers said for her in many churches. But 
 it was all in vain. Her gentle spirit was called to its long 
 reward, and Rubens remained alone with his orphaned sons. 
 Beneath the blow the strong head was bowed, and when 
 
232 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 his friend Dupuis offered him the consolations of philos- 
 ophy, Rubens replied in a letter so full of genuine feeling 
 that it should be copied. ' 
 
 "Your lordship is right to remind me that I must submit 
 to the destiny that yields not to our inclinations and passions, 
 for it obeys the supreme Power and does not account to us for, 
 nor reason with us about, its actions. As an absolute ruler it 
 disposes of all things, and since we must needs obey it like 
 slaves, we can only try by submission to make our dependence 
 as honorable and endurable as possible. But this duty seems 
 to me at present very trying and difficult. It is thus with great 
 wisdom that your lordship exhorts me to rely on time, which 
 will do for me what my reason ought to do, for I have no pre- 
 tension of ever attaining an impassive stoicism. In my opin- 
 ion no man can be wholly unmoved by the different impressions 
 that events produce in him, or preserve an equal indifference 
 towards all wordly matters. I believe on the contrary that it 
 is right on certain occasions to blame such indifference rather 
 than to praise it, and that the feelings which rise spontaneously 
 in our hearts should not be condemned. In truth, I have lost 
 an excellent companion, and one worthy of all affection, for 
 she had none of the faults of her sex. Never displaying bit- 
 terness or weakness, her kindness and loyalty were perfect; 
 and her rare qualities having made her beloved during her life, 
 have caused her to be regretted by all after her death. Such 
 a loss, it seems to me, ought to be deeply felt, and since the 
 only remedy for all evils is the oblivion that time brings, I 
 must undoubtedly look to time for consolation. But it will be 
 very difficult for me to separate the grief caused by this 
 bereavement from the memory of pne whom I must respect 
 and honor as long as I live. A journey might, perhaps, serve 
 to take me away from the sight of the many objects which 
 necessarily renew my grief, for she alone fills my henceforth 
 empty house; she alone lies by my side on my desolate couch; 
 whereas the new sights that a journey affords occupy the 
 imagination and furnish no material for the regrets that are 
 
RUBENS 233 
 
 forever springing up in one's heart. But I should travel in 
 vain, for I shall have myself for companion everywhere." 
 
 IV " 
 WANDERING YEARS 
 
 Without the dear companion of his joys and griefs, 
 the home that Rubens had loved so much lost its charm. 
 Even his great collection of paintings and statuary could 
 no longer delight his tear-dimmed eyes. So when the 
 Duke of Buckingham offered him 100,000 florins for it, the 
 offer w^as accepted. Rich and able to earn great sums by 
 his brush, Rubens had no need of the money, and only a 
 great sorrow that took the interest out of all earthly things 
 and reminded him of the duty to provide largely for his 
 youthful sons could have led him to such a step. The 
 price paid was then unexampled, though many a single 
 picture among them would now bring a larger sum. 
 
 Thus denuded of its glory, his home, which was now 
 but a sad reminder of departed joys, attracted him no 
 more; and Rubens longed to travel and to seek in other 
 lands and among the distractions of public business, ob- 
 livion of his grief. The condition of the world was piti- 
 ful, and required his help. Everywhere there was war, 
 caused either by religious fanaticism, selfish ambition or 
 presumptuous folly. The nations groaned beneath the bur- 
 den, and there was none to bring relief. The principal 
 thrones were filled by weaklings. Spain, ruler of Flan- 
 ders, was declining every day beneath the incapable rule 
 of Philip IV and his minister Olivares. Charles I was 
 rushing to his doom in England. Only in France, Riche- 
 lieu ruled in the name of his feeble master with remorse- 
 
234 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 less vigor and boundless ambition, building up that abso- 
 lute monarchy that was to crush the nation's life. England 
 was at war with France and Spain, Spain at war with 
 the Netherlands, Richelieu at war with the Huguenots. 
 Things were going badly in Flandei;s because of the wars, 
 and the enlightened Archduchess wished to send to Madrid 
 an envoy worthy of herself. Rubens wanted to go. He 
 felt the need of new scenes that would divert his mind 
 from the contemplation of his sorrow. He believed, too, 
 that if he could gain access to the Spanish monarch he 
 could, with his rare tact, win him over, and secure a 
 munificent patron for his art. So, for the only time in 
 his career, so far as we know, he intrigued for the place. 
 A curious letter is preserved which he wrote to Gerbier, 
 Buckingham's agent, urging Gerbier to write the Arch- 
 duchess and the Spanish statesmen, as if spontaneously, 
 and to get others to write, urging his appointment. He 
 closes with a request that the letter be burnt, which, as 
 usual, secured its preservation. 
 
 England, defeated and discredited on every hand and 
 driven back with ignominy when she attempted the relief 
 of La Rochelle, closely besieged by Richelieu, was anxious 
 for peace. Buckingham, through Gerbier, had been sound- 
 ing Rubens, who thus had in his hands all the threads of the 
 negotiations. He suggested that he be sent to Madrid 
 to lay the matter before the King. Philij) IV at first ob- 
 jected to employing a mere painter in such high affairs. 
 He wrote : 
 
 " It might throw deserved discredit on the monarchy, for its 
 prestige must suffer if ambassadors are forced to discuss such 
 grave matters with a man of low rank. If the country whence 
 the proposals emanate is to be free to choose the intermediary, 
 and if England finds nothing improper in the choice of Rubens, 
 the selection is nevertheless a matter of great regret to us." 
 
RUBENS 235 
 
 The Archduchess insisted, and was finally allowed to 
 have her way. So in August, 1628, Rubens set out upon 
 his journey, passing through Paris so hastily that he did 
 not even call upon his dear friends, only making one 
 detour to witness the siege of La Rochelle, where he was 
 much impressed with the energy and ability of the great 
 Cardinal. He reached Madrid on September 10. Philip 
 IV had so far overcome his reluctance to receive him as 
 to provide for him quarters in the palace with a spacious 
 studio attached. Here Rubens remained until April 29th 
 of the succeeding year. 
 
 One object of his journey was speedily accomplished. 
 The Archduchess Isabella had been absent from Spain so 
 long that many of the royal family, including the Queen, 
 were unknown to her. Rubens was commissioned to 
 paint for her the King, his consort and most of her other 
 kinsmen. This brought him into close relations with 
 Philip IV, who was an intelligent connoisseur and had 
 himself practised the art of painting with the indifferent 
 success that usually attends the efforts of royal person- 
 ages. He at once perceived the genius of the master, and 
 thenceforth he was Rubens' most distinguished patron. 
 Of their intercourse Rubens writes: 
 
 " Here, as everywhere, I am busy painting ; and I have al- 
 ready done an equestrian portrait of his majesty, who has ex- 
 pressed his approval and satisfaction. He shows excellent taste 
 in painting, and has, it seems to me, very remarkable qualities. 
 I can now judge him personally, for as I live in the palace he 
 comes to see me nearly every day. I have also painted por- 
 traits of all the members of the royal family, who have kindly 
 sat to me, that I might carry out the orders of my mistress, 
 her most serene highness the Infanta." 
 
 Spain then had a number of distinguished artists, among 
 them Montanes, Alonso Cano, Zurbaran and Velasquez. 
 
236 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 None of them seem to have made any impression on 
 Rubens save the latter. Only twenty-nine years of age, 
 Velasquez was already the court painter. Rubens saw 
 much of him, and inspired in him a longing to visit Italy, 
 which was soon to be put into action. But the art of the 
 two great men was so radically different that neither had 
 any effect upon the other's style. The Spaniard, supreme 
 among naturalists, saw only the literal fact, saw it with 
 clear, keen eyes from which nothing could escape. The 
 Fleming, on the other hand, was one of the greatest poets 
 of the brush, never content with reality, but seeking al- 
 ways something stronger or more beautiful than nature 
 had to offer. Still, after Rubens' visit, the style of Velas- 
 quez loses something of its hardness and acquires a suavity 
 before unknown; so that it seems likely that he learned 
 something from his distinguished visitbr. 
 
 The negotiations lingered in the trfle Spanish fashion 
 in that land of manana. The time was largely spent by 
 Rubens in making copies for his own use of the master- 
 pieces of Titian, now in the Prado. These are copies with 
 strange variations of detail and technic, so infused with 
 the exuberant vitality of the great copyist that they pos- 
 sess an interest scarcely inferior to the originals. Rubens 
 kept them by him to the end, and in the meantime ac- 
 quired ten more works from the brush of the Venetian 
 master, to replace in some measure those sold to Bucking- 
 ham in the hour of his grief. 
 
 At last the Spanish court made up its mind. Rubens 
 was authorized to proceed to England and to conclude a 
 truce, later to be converted into a peace by ambassadors 
 of higher rank. He hastened back to Brussels, got his 
 credentials from the Archduchess, and hurried on to Lon- 
 don. But, as usual, the Spanish government was too late. 
 England had already made terms with France, and Spain 
 could no longer win her for an ally. Still, peace might be 
 
RUBENS 237 
 
 secured ; and to this end Rubens devoted all his energy and 
 address. 
 
 He reached London on June 5, 1629, and put up at the 
 house of his friend, Gerbier. Buckingham had been as- 
 sassinated, but Charles I had learned no wisdom. Still, 
 he was a knightly gentleman, who had exquisite taste in 
 matters of art, and he welcomed Rubens warmly. The 
 nobles of his court followed his example. The Earl of 
 Arundel, whose portrait Rubens had already painted, re- 
 ceived him with the greatest favor. The Earl of Carlisle 
 took him riding in his coach every day. Lords and min- 
 isters gave fetes in his honor. The King had him paint 
 his portrait. The learned were not behind in their atten- 
 tions. Cambridge University conferred upon him the mer- 
 ited degree of Master of Arts. Yet he did not enjoy the 
 companionship of the learned men of England. He writes 
 that he^ finds them " generally of an austere temper, like 
 the most bigoted theologians." The man whose society 
 he would most have enjoyed, the learned and accomplished 
 Selden, was lying in prison for having protested in Parlia- 
 ment against the unlawful exactions of the Crown. 
 
 In a letter to Peiresc, Rubens shows that despite all his 
 elegance, he had an interest in the highly spiced passages 
 of history. He writes : " Boswell is going to show me 
 certain passages concerning Theodora's debauches, omitted 
 in Procopius' " Anecdota Arcana," and probably suppressed 
 for propriety's sake in Alemanni's edition ; but which have 
 been printed from an unpublished manuscript in the Vati- 
 can." 
 
 Rubens was astonished at the art treasures that he found 
 in England. Charles I had purchased from the spend- 
 thrift Duke of Mantua his vast collection. The Earl of 
 Arundel had gathered together almost as many master- 
 pieces of ancient and modern art. Rubens' own rich glean- 
 ings were there. So he found many familiar friends; and 
 
238 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 here he made his remarkably free copy of Mantegna's 
 Triumph of Julius Casar, which in his youth he had 
 so often seen at Mantua, adding to it a landscape back- 
 ground and giving to the figures an animation and action 
 strangely at variance with the work of the most sculptural 
 of painters. 
 
 While in England Rubens received the commission to 
 paint the decorations for the ceiling of the, Banquet Hall 
 of Whitehall Palace. If the commission to glorify Marie 
 de' Medici had been a hard one, this was far harder. Ru- 
 bens was to glorify the memory of James II It is not 
 surprising that the work was unworthy of his genius, full 
 of frigid allegories, painted without conviction or enthu- 
 siasm. Still, the pictures may have been better than now 
 seems possible in their ruinous condition. We know that 
 they pleased King Charles, who was no mean judge; and 
 if Rubens had to wait long for his £3,000, it was only be- 
 cause the royal treasury was empty. 
 
 While in England Rubens painted for the King one 
 picture that still survives to delight the eye, his Minerva 
 Protecting Peace against War now in the National Gal- 
 lery. It is one of the best of the many compositions irr 
 which he sought to impress upon the warring nations the 
 blessings of that peace which they were so madly trampling 
 under foot. He gave it -to the King as an allegory that 
 might incline the royal mind to better ways. In the beau- 
 tiful children that do homage to Peace he has immortalized 
 the offspring of his kind host, Gerbier. 
 
 At last the terms of peace were agreed upon, and on 
 February 21, 1630, King Charles be;stowed on him the 
 honor of Knighthood, and besides presented him with a 
 jeweled sword, a chain of gold, a diamond ring from his 
 own finger, and a hat-band set with diamonds valued at 
 £480. On tlie 3rd of the following month Rubens de- 
 parted, honored by all, and conscious of having deserved 
 
RUBENS 239 
 
 well of his country. He could not enjoy his new rank 
 without the sanction of his own sovereign; but this Philip 
 IV granted, and thenceforth he became Sir Peter. 
 
 Rubens had made such a favorable impression in Eng- 
 land, that it was proposed to make him the resident min- 
 ister at the British Court. Fortunately the Spanish Junta 
 concluded that it was impossible " to give the title of his 
 Majesty's minister to a man living by the work of his 
 hands " ; and so Rubens was saved for art. 
 
 SECOND MARRIAGE AND LATER DAYS 
 
 Returning to Antwerp after an absence of two years, 
 Rubens found his pupils and assistants dispersed and the 
 stately mansion intolerably desolate. His friends urged him 
 to marry one of the great ladies of the court, as his new 
 rank, his renown and wealth would justify his doing. His 
 heart, however, led him to a wiser course. Among the 
 families in which he was intimate was that of the Four- 
 ments, and upon the youngest daughter of the house, sister 
 of her whom he had immortalized as the Ckapeau de Foil, 
 his choice fell. She was only sixteen, but already her 
 voluptuous beauty was in its full development. A mature 
 gentleman of fifty-three, Rubens fell madly in love. Writ- 
 ing to Peiresc, he thus seeks to justify his selection in the 
 eyes of his philosophic friend : 
 
 " I determined to marry again, because I did not feel myself 
 old enough t6 be condemned to perpetual celibacy, and after a 
 period of self-denial, it is sweet to enjoy permitted pleasures. 
 I have chosen a young wife from an honorable middle-class 
 family, although everybody wanted ttie to choose someone from 
 the court circle. But I feared the evil quality of pride which 
 
240 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 generally accompanies rank; and is especially strong in 
 high-born women. I preferred a woman who would not be 
 ashamed to see me handle my brushes, and, to be quite honest, 
 I should have found it hard to barter my precious liberty for 
 the embraces of an old woman." 
 
 No such calm reasoning, but an overwhelming passion, 
 led him to choose the fair Helen. Rarely has a woman 
 been so idolized by a man. Henceforth his art is one 
 glorious hymn to Helen's beauty. 
 
 According to our standards that beauty lacks distinc- 
 tion; but tastes differ, and the good people of Flanders no 
 doubt have as much right to their opinion as we. Certain 
 it is that her contemporaries were extravagant in her 
 praise, calling her the New Helen, and likening her to that 
 Helen who 
 
 " Launched a thousand ships 
 And burnt the topless towers of Ilium.'' 
 
 In speaking of the Judgment of Paris, now at Madrid, 
 the Archduke Ferdinand, a Spaniard accustomed to the 
 supremely beautiful women of his own southern land, 
 wrote to his brother Philip IV : " The Venus who oc- 
 cupies the central place is a very good likeness of the 
 painter's wife, the most beautiful of all the ladies of Ant- 
 werp." 
 
 F9rtunately we know her charms as we know the charms 
 of no other woman that has ever lived in all the eons of 
 time. Rubens has depicted her in every state of nudity 
 and' dress, in every attitude; depicted her with so much 
 love that he found in her no defects to be smoothed over, 
 no need of idealization. He has given her to us clothed 
 as a fashionable dame in silks and satins, walking, standing, 
 seated ; he has presented her in every stage of nudity, from 
 the complete unveiling of the Andromeda and the Venuses, 
 to the far more suggestive semi-nudity of La Pelisse. She 
 
 ^.d ..di 
 
RUBENS 241 
 
 was indeed a lovely creature. The beauty of the face is 
 a dollish beauty, with its round, full contours, its great 
 childish eyes; but it is almost perfect of its type. The 
 form, however, leaves more to be desired. It is too full, 
 too soft, the form of a woman who has taken no exercise. 
 The knees particularly are ill-formed. But never was 
 there flesh so white, never flesh with so satiny a sheen. 
 She is the complete realization of that type of the perfect 
 blonde toward which the art of Rubens had tended from 
 the first. It is not surprising that she should have won 
 the painter's heart. 
 
 As showing how completely Helen realized Rubens' 
 ideal, there are in the large Last Judgment at Munich, 
 most conspicuous among the blest who are ascending to 
 heaven, the life-sized figures of two women, a mature one 
 with dark hair affectionately embracing a younger one of 
 most voluptuous form and whitest flesh, who looks precisely 
 like Helen Fourment in all her beauty. Everybody who 
 sees the picture exclaims that here Rubens has depicted 
 his two wives ascending to heaven in loving concord. Yet 
 when the picture was painted Helen was but a child, and 
 while the elder may be Isabella Brant, the younger is cer- 
 tainly not the master's second wife. ^ 
 
 The marriage took place in the Church of St. Jacques 
 on December 6, 1630. The Fourments must have been 
 rich; for though there were ten children in the family, 
 Helen brought as dowry an income of 3,000 Flemish 
 pounds. Despite the disparity of ages the union proved 
 both happy and fruitful. Helen, who seems to have been 
 of the sweet and easy disposition that her features imply, 
 could not fail to be pleased with the wealth and luxury 
 with which Rubens surrounded her, and the splendid 
 clothes and jewels with which he delighted to adorn her 
 lovely person; nor could she fail to enjoy the high posi- 
 tion into which her marriage raised her, the eminent friends 
 
242 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 that gathered around her hearth and the homage which 
 they paid to her beauty, no doubt as much on her hus- 
 band's account as on her own. She passed almost from 
 the nursery to a place as one of the leading ladies of the 
 land. As for Rubens, he adored her, and he scarcely 
 painted a picture in which she did not appear; while the 
 four beautiful children that she bore him ere he died serve 
 almost as frequently as models. How she improved in 
 contact with his marvelous personality is well revealed by 
 the two portraits that hang opposite each other in one 
 of the cabinets of the Munich Gallery. In the first she 
 appears as a young girl whose mind and passions are not 
 yet awake. She is beautiful, but it is the beauty of a 
 bisque doll, lovely, but thoroughly uninteresting. The 
 body is there in all its rich development, but the soul is not 
 yet aroused. In the second, painted shortly before the 
 master's death, we see an accomplished woman of the 
 world, educated by contact with refined and learned per- 
 sons, a woman who has known the joys of love and who 
 is worthy to be the wife of so perfect a gentleman and 
 to preside over a household where all that was wisest and 
 brightest in the society of the time was accustomed to 
 gather. 
 
 The difference between the two marriages of Rubens is 
 well revealed in the portraits that he made shortly after 
 each. His nuptial picture with Isabella Brant, of which 
 we have spoken, represents them seated hand in hand in 
 sweet matrimonial companionship. La Pelisse, painted 
 shortly after his marriage with Helen, shows her coming 
 from the bath with a fur pelisse cast about her, conceal- 
 ing a portion of her form. It is probably his high-water 
 mark in flesh-painting, perhaps the most wonderful piece 
 of flesh-painting in the world, a thing of ravishing beauty 
 despite the imperfections of the model ; but it is no longer 
 
RUBENS 243 
 
 the sisterly hand in hand, which Rossetti declared to be the 
 sweetest thing in love. 
 
 She lent herself to his service with an amiability and 
 an abandon without example even among the wives of 
 artists. Houbraken says that she was for Rubens a val- 
 uable possession, for she spared him the expense of other 
 models. The painter used her fair form without reserve, 
 and henceforth she is the center of all his works, and she 
 wrought a revolution in his art. ~^^^^ 
 
 It i§ customary to divide Rubens' productions into three 
 manners. This is, of course, arbitrary.ii His art was a 
 constant growth, an uninterrupted progress toward the 
 light. His first period, when he was under the influence 
 of contemporary Italians, was merely a time when he 
 was seeking his way, though it extended to an age at 
 which most artists have done much of their best work. 
 It was characterized by the black shadows of Caravaggio, 
 the strained muscles of the imitators of Michelangelo. 
 With the Descent from tUe Cross his second period is 
 supposed to begin, a period of brilliant colors, which, how- 
 ever, stand out a little hard and without fusion. The third 
 period had already begun before his marriage with Helen, 
 as is apparent in the Adoration of the Kings and the As- 
 sumption of the Virgin at Antwerp. Here shadows give 
 place to light, and the colors are fused and harmonized in 
 a way that makes Rubens incomparably the most brilliant 
 of all colorists, if not the greatest. Some prefer the silver 
 grays of Velasquez, some the mellow splendor of Venice; 
 but everyone must concede that in brilliancy Rubens sur- 
 passes them all. 
 
 How he attained this dazzling brilliancy we cannot tell. 
 He had numerous assistants, among them most of the 
 great Flemish artists of the time. They used his palette, 
 they worked upon his canvases. They wished their style 
 
244 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 to harmonize with his, he wished them to do their best. 
 Yet we can rarely fail to recognize his magic touch. It 
 lends to the picture a radiant glow which casts all else into 
 the background, and which the passage of three hundred 
 years has not dimmed, save where the picture has been 
 abused. 
 
 Helen was not the cause of Rubens' third manner, but 
 under the inspiration of her beauty it advanced daily in 
 brilliancy and splendor. She must have spent the greater 
 part of her time posing for him, sometimes clothed in fine 
 raiment, more often in varying stages of nudity. And 
 this had an admirable effect upon the master's art. He 
 could not admit his pupils into the room where his wife 
 was posing undraped; and so, instead of the immense pic- 
 tures that he had been painting with the help of many 
 hands, he devoted himself chiefly to works of moderate 
 dimensions done with his own brush. These are the most 
 perfect of his achievements, among the most perfect things 
 that the hand of man has wrought. They are not the 
 gross banquets of the flesh of his earlier days, when he 
 painted without love the voluptuous forms of hired models. 
 There is, it is true, no idealization, for Helen seemed per- 
 fect in his eyes, and he did not deem it possible to improve 
 her face or form. But the hand that wields the brush 
 is the hand of love, and every touch is a caress. The 
 shadows pass away, and light reigns supreme. Beneath its 
 lustrous glow the young flesh shines and glows and is alive. 
 
 Among the marvels of this period it is hard to choose. 
 The Pelisse is the one that Rubens esteemed the most, for 
 he kept it with him to the end, and in his will directed that 
 it be not sold; apparently forgetting that a nude picture 
 of their mother must be embarrassing to her children. 
 Perhaps the finest picture inspired by the beauty of Helen 
 is the Homage to Venus at Vienna, suggested by Titian's 
 great work in the Prado, but thoroughly original and su- 
 
RUBENS 245 
 
 premely beautiful. Here Helen appears, borne oif, not un- 
 willingly, in the arms of an amorous satyr. Nor is this 
 the only case in which the artist puts his bride in embar- 
 rassing situations. For example, at Munich she appears 
 as a shepherdess submitting to the gross caresses of a shep- 
 herd; in the Prado she appears as a nymph surprised by 
 satyrs; again, at Munich and Madrid, as Susannah be- 
 neath the greedy gaze of the elders, or Bathsheba at the 
 bath with David looking on. Far purer are the represen- 
 tations of Helen completely nude, posing as Venus in the 
 two Judgments of Paris, one in the National Gallery, the 
 other in the Prado, pictures of a surpassing beauty, though 
 the heavy forms give them an appearance of uncouthness 
 when reduced to black and white. One of the most charm- 
 ing presentations of her charms is the Cimon and Iphigenia 
 at Vienna, where the surpassing loveliness of her perfect 
 blonde flesh shines in almost unparalleled splendor, as she 
 lies dreaming of love beneath the astonished gaze of the 
 amorous hind. Again she appears in the Prado in differ- 
 ent positions as the Three Graces, and again as Venus with 
 Adonis in the exquisite picture at Berlin. But of all the 
 nude portraits of her the Andromeda at Berlin is the most 
 delightful. It is perhaps the greatest marvel of flesh paint- 
 ing in all the range of art — so splendid in its lustrous 
 beauty and its abounding vitality that the beholder is riv- 
 eted to the spot with admiration. Beneath the caressing 
 light the flesh gleams and lives with a loveliness that cer- 
 tainly was never surpassed by mortal brush and which 
 perhaps was never equaled. 
 
 The portraits of her clothed are even more enchanting. 
 Her face was almost faultless of its type, and she wore 
 her rich garments with becoming grace. From the picture 
 shortly aftei* their marriage when she in her girlish beauty 
 walks beside her husband in their lovely garden, an ex- 
 quisite doll, to the maturer richness of the St. Cecilia at 
 
246 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Berlin, she is always delightful, always painted with a 
 loving touch that makes the canvas glow Vith light and 
 palpitate with life. The most charming of them all is 
 that at Munich, where she holds her naked child on her lap. 
 Rubens painted one hundred and sixty-five portraits in 
 all, and at his best he is a great portrait painter. But 
 it is not a branch of the art which he preferred. His 
 exuberant imagination, one of the most intensely creative 
 in the realm of art, abhorred the literal fact; and it is 
 only when love or friendship guides the brush that he is 
 at his best. It is in the portraits of his two wives, of 
 the children whom he loved so much, and of the accom- 
 plished scholars who were his chosen friends, that he is 
 seen to most advantage. TJiese are admirable in their ap- 
 parent fidelity to nature, and extremely vital. 
 jf( Rubens was not to be left long in the enjoyment of his 
 home. In July, 1631, Marie de' Medici escaped from her 
 confinement at Compiegne and sought refuge in Flanders, 
 where she was joined by her second son, Gaston of Or- 
 leans. She was a most embarrassing guest. Her pres- 
 ence might plunge the country into war with France, yet it 
 was needful to treat her royally, for she might at any 
 time be reconciled to the King her son, or restored to power 
 by the passing out of his flickering life. In her embarrass- 
 ment the Archduchess turned to Rubens, whose intimate 
 acquaintance with the exiled queen made him a fitting 
 mediator. He managed his delicate task with infinite tact, 
 but for eight months he was kept away from home and 
 work. Now for the only time in his life he counseled 
 war. He hated Richelieu, whom he looked upon as the 
 disturber of the peace of Europe ; and he thought that the 
 Queen Mother and Gaston would have following enough 
 to overthrow the Cardinal if Spain lent her aid. The 
 Junta, however, had had experience of Richelieu's power, 
 and, no doubt wisely, rejected Rubens' proposal. 
 
RUBENS 247 
 
 The next year Rubens was again to be called away from 
 his painting. The rapid successes of the Dutch had com- 
 pelled the Archduchess to convoke the Estates General 
 of Flanders after an interval of more than thirty years. 
 The crisis was so urgent that that body determined to treat 
 directly with Holland without waiting for the slow action of 
 Spain. So it appointed commissioners for that purpose, 
 among them the Duke of Aerschot. The Archduchess 
 chose Rubens to represent her in the negotiations. Ru- 
 bens addressed a letter to the Duke, whd replied in a most 
 insulting communication, in which he berated Rubens like 
 a lackey for presuming to write to him instead of coming 
 in person to pay his respects, as became one of his humble 
 rank. To make the ofifense the deeper the Duke pub- 
 lished the letter. Little did the supposed great man think that 
 he would be remembered only for the insult that he offered 
 to the man who was truly great. Against an outrage from 
 such a quarter there was no redress, and Rubens wisely 
 determined to retire from a" profession that exposed him 
 to such affronts. In 1633 the good Archduchess died, and 
 the master had no further temptation to enter the field of 
 diplomacy. 
 
 Yet his troubles were not over. The Archduke Ferdi- 
 nand, brother of the King of Spain, was appointed to 
 succeed the beloved Infanta. He had been made a cardi- 
 nal at the age of fourteen, and in 1632 had become a 
 soldier, to war against the Protestants, whoin he over- 
 whelmed under Duke Bernard of Weimar. The authority 
 entrusted to him was despotic, and it was feared that he 
 would use it to restore the era of persecution and the 
 atrocities of Alva. All Flanders trembled at his approach. 
 It was necessary to propitiate him, and Antwerp determined 
 to make his entry an occasion of such splendor as would 
 convince him of the city's loyalty. Rubens was put in 
 charge of the decorations, upon which he spent six months 
 
248 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 of labor and 78,000 florins. He was assisted by- all the 
 sculptors, painters and architects of Antwerp. Nothing 
 more gorgeous was ever got up. There were triumphal 
 arches, adorned with statuary and painting, laudatory ad- 
 dresses from ornate theaters erected for the occasion, pic- 
 tures, banners, processions, everything that could flatter 
 a ruler's vanity or attest the devotion of his people. When 
 in April, 1635, the Archduke made his entry, he was de- 
 lighted with the brilliancy of his reception. He sent for 
 Rubens, and as the master, worn out by his vast exer- 
 tions, was in bed with the gout, the Archduke called upon 
 him and thanked him for the magnificent display. On 
 April 15th of the next year the Archduke confirmed Ru- 
 bens in his position of court painter. The master after- 
 ward painted of him the two portraits, one at Munich and 
 the other at Vienna, in which he is represented as a gay and 
 handsome cavalier. Nor was the money spent on his re- 
 ception thrown away; for he was not unkind to Antwerp. 
 
 The decorations were left standing for a month, and 
 were much injured by the weather; but some of Rubens' 
 contributions have been preserved, among which is the 
 Neptune calming the Waves, called the Quos Ego, at Dres- 
 den, a masterpiece of animated action.' 
 
 This was the last of Rubens' public employments, though 
 his advice was still often sought by the Antwerp council 
 in the serious complications of the time. The following 
 month he bought the handsome Chateau de Steen, then a 
 grim medieval castle with portcullis and battlements and 
 with extensive grounds. To it he added a commodious 
 studio, and made many improvements that converted it 
 into a comfortable home. For the property he paid 93,000 
 florins, while the alterations cost 7,000 more. This in- 
 dicates how prosperous were his circumstances. The 
 Chateau still stands, but so modernized that Rubens would 
 not recognize it. 
 
RUBENS 249 
 
 For the remaining five years of his life Rubens spent his 
 summers in the country, returning to Antwerp only when 
 compelled by the inclemency of the season. It was at the 
 Chateau de Steen and at an age when most artists have 
 done their best work that Rubens painted some of his most 
 perfect pictures. In nearly all of them Helen figures, some- 
 times as a pagan nymph or goddess, sometimes as the 
 Mother of God, sometimes as a saint. 
 
 One of the most charming works of this time is the 
 Garden of Love in the Prado, that delightful representa- 
 tion of high-born dames and cavaliers in the garden of a 
 stately palace, strolling or seated in pairs, absorbed in 
 amorous discourse. This was the origin of the lovely pic- 
 tures of Watteau, Lancret, Pater and their school, which 
 were to delight the eighteenth century. But in splendor 
 of color, in strength, in dignity carried even into the soft of- 
 fices of love, in the rich handling of costly raiment, none 
 of those charming painters approached the mighty master. 
 
 In contrast to this is the Kermesse of the Louvre. Here 
 it is no knightly gathering of lords and ladies, who even 
 in the fullness of passion know how to control the mani- 
 festations of their ardor. A group of peasants, drunk with 
 love and wine, give free rein to their sensual appetites. 
 Shame is thrown to the winds, all restraints of custom 
 and observance are cast aside, and the animal in man 
 alone survives. Yet it was not painted as a satire, as 
 Hogarth might have done. It is plain that the master 
 revels in this apotheosis of man's sensuality, as a follower 
 of Dionysus might delight in the bacchantes' unseemly 
 orgies. 
 
 Other pictures of the time are the Rape of the Sabines 
 and the Brazen Serpent of the National Gallery and the 
 Massacre of the Innocents at Munich, scenes of tumult and 
 confusion such as Rubens alone could paint; but rendered 
 with a power and brilliancy which no one else could hope 
 
250 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 to rival. The effects of gleaming light on shining flesh 
 were never more powerfully rendered. 
 
 To these last days also belong some of Rubens' most glori- 
 ous mythological pictures, teeming with vitality and magnifi- 
 cent in the fusion of their incomparable glory of color, 
 such as the Mercury and Argus at Dresden and Madrid, the 
 Meleager and Atalanta, and Diana and Actceon at Munich, 
 and the Nymphs and Fauns, the Nymphs of Diana sur- 
 prised by Satyrs, and the Diana and Calisto at Madrid; 
 above all, the two versions of the Judgment of Paris and 
 the Andromeda of which we have spoken. It was in these 
 days, too, that he painted the exquisite Shepherd and Shep- 
 herdess and the Susannah and the Elders at Munich, in 
 which his incomparable handling of rich blonde flesh is 
 shown at its best. 
 
 It was in these later days that he painted the two re- 
 ligious pictures which are by many esteemed his master- 
 pieces in that line, the Martyrdom of St. Lieven, showing 
 the saint's agony comforted by angels, a picture wonderful 
 in light and color, and finer still, the Ascent to Calvary 
 at Brussels, a truly marvelous work. The soldiers are 
 marching up the mountain. Some have turned the corner 
 of the rock, and only their lance heads gleam in the light. 
 Two officers are riding on, and in their riding there is 
 something strangely remorseless like the march of fate 
 in a Greek tragedy. The sky is overcast, but a beam of 
 light breaks through and falls upon the flanks of the white 
 horse that bears one of the centurions. Behind, in the 
 shadow of the cross that he is bearing, .Christ has fallen, 
 and from his brow Helen as St. Veronica is wiping the 
 sweat of his bitter agony. Still further down the hill the 
 thieves are being driven to their awful doom, and their 
 attitude expresses their despair. It is a work of supreme 
 tragedy, of prodigious power, and painted with a supple 
 skill that even Rubens attained only in later days. 
 
RUBENS 251 
 
 Among his last pictures is the "Horrors of War in the 
 Pitti, painted in 1639 ; a truly splendid work hung in so bad 
 a light that its glory of color can only be understood on 
 the rare occasions when it is brought down to be copied. 
 Mars, in full armor, breaks away from the lovely Venus 
 who seeks to restrain him, and rushes on, preceded by a 
 torch-bearing Fury, to trample the widow and the orphan 
 under foot, while Europe, clothed in mourning and with 
 her diadem of flowers, raises to heaven her arms and tear- 
 dimmed eyes in protest and lamentation. It was a noble 
 legacy from him who had so earnestly striven for peace 
 and justice among men, a standing protest against those 
 horrors of war which during his whole life he had seen 
 on every hand — wars with no excuse save the ambition 
 of princes and the bigotry of priests. 
 
 Among Rubens' richest contributions to art are the land- 
 scapes that he painted while at Steen. He had painted a 
 few landscapes in earlier days, but they are not of com- 
 manding importance. The human figure then engrossed 
 his attention. Now in the quietude of the country, he 
 turned again to nature, and studied her moods with singu- 
 lar penetration. It is chiefly the flat, rich, highly culti- 
 vated region around his chateau that he paints; but he 
 presents it with such truth and insight that his landscapes 
 constitute an era in the progress of the art. Upon them 
 the landscape school of Holland built its magnificent struc- 
 ture. In addition to these homely scenes he also gives us 
 a number drawn from his imagination, in which figure 
 mountains, rocks and torrents, anticipating the works of 
 Everdingen and Ruysdael. These, however, are far less 
 true to nature, far less important, than those which depict 
 the country about his rural home. Here the rich, fat land, 
 so surpassing in its fruitfulness, as full of vital force as his 
 human types, is presented with loving care, bathed in its 
 moist atmosphere sufifused with light. The scenes are tame, 
 
2S2 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 and in the hands of a lesser artist they would be uninter- 
 esting; but he makes them live again beneath his magic 
 brush, and even in this flat region he conveys a sense of 
 infinite space and distance. The cloud effects, too, are 
 wonderful ; studied with a care and painted with a skill then 
 
 \ unprecedented in the history of art. In that moist region, 
 where the sky is rarely cloudless, the master had fullest 
 i opportunity to study their shifting forms with their ever 
 varying illumination; and as he wandered with his fair 
 young wife about the grounds of Steen, he loved to watch 
 their changing shapes and hues. 
 
 ! And so his later days passed peacefully away, filled with 
 quiet work. He was so happy and so contented in his 
 home that he cared for nothing else. Even his corre- 
 
 i spondence was suffered to languish. But his infatuation 
 
 ' for his lovely young wife did not, as so often happens, 
 turn his heart from the children of his former union. In 
 his will, made not long before his death, he provided gen- 
 erously for them ; and it is pleasing to know that Helen 
 
 , concurred in its provisions. 
 
 ' In the autumn of 1639 failing health compelled Rubens 
 
 ; to take up his abode in his city home earlier than usual. 
 His old enemy, the gout, had returned upon him with re- 
 newed violence. Through the winter he gradually de- 
 clined, and on the 30th of May, 1640, he passed away, in 
 his sixty-fourth year, a noble gentleman upon whose life 
 there is no reproach. 
 
 As was befitting so great a man, his obsequies were 
 magnificent. There were four great funeral banquets, 
 with an enormous outpouring of that Ay wine which had 
 been his favorite beverage, and which, though drunk in 
 moderation according to the standards of the time, no 
 doubt contributed to produce the gout that caused his 
 death. Eight hundred funeral masses were said for the 
 repose of his soul. He left an estate valued at over three 
 
RUBENS 253 
 
 hundred thousand dollars, and his descendants are still in 
 affluent circumstances, though the ancestral homes passed 
 from their possession within the time of the first genera- 
 tion. Besides the pictures which the family retained, three 
 hundred and fourteen, partly by Rubens' hand, partly by 
 other masters, were sold, and brought 69,553 florins, then 
 an immense sum, but less than many of them would now 
 bring singly. His home on the Wapper realized 20,000 
 florins when it was sold twenty years later. 
 
 Though she bore a fifth child after Rubens' death, Helen 
 was too fair, too young, too much a creature of this world 
 to spend the remainder of her days in a widow's weeds; 
 and so, after a decent interval of five years, she married 
 J. B. van Broekhoven, Lord of Bergheyke, Alderman of Ant- 
 werp and Councillor of the High Court of Brussels. Her 
 choice seems to have been a wise one. Certainly her sec- 
 ond husband acted with admirable justice and generosity 
 in dealing with the sons of Rubens' first marriage. Let us 
 hope that Helen lived happily to the end, for to her we 
 owe some of the greatest joys that art can bring. 
 
 With his usual modesty, Rubens said a few days before 
 ,his death : " If my family consider me worthy of the 
 memorial they may build a chapel in the church of St. 
 Jacques to receive my remains, and in that event they may 
 place there my picture of the Virgin and Saints (the St. 
 George picture) and the marble statue of Our Lady of 
 Sorrows by Faydherbe." His wishes were carried out, 
 and he now sleeps in his favorite church, while St. George 
 and the Virgin keep watch above his tomb. 
 
VELASQUEZ 
 
 I 599-1660 
 
 I 
 
 THE REALIST 
 
 Of all the old masters Velasquez exerts the greatest influ- 
 ence on the art of our times. When one of Whistler's 
 overzealous admirers said to him, " There are only two great 
 painters, you and Velasquez," the artist replied with his 
 accustomed effrontery, "Why drag in Velasquez?" But 
 Velasquez was not dragged in. He was already there. 
 Without him Whistler would never have been the painter 
 that we know; nor would Mr. Sargent, Mr. Chase, Mr. 
 Zorn, nor many another of our leading masters of the brush 
 paint as they do. These men have all sat at the feet of 
 the great Spaniard, striving, and, it must be admitted, striv- 
 ing in vain, to learn the secret of his power. 
 
 On his paternal side Velasquez was descended from a 
 .noble Spanish family that had been settled in Portugal 
 since 1040. One of his ancestors had been governor of the 
 land after the Spanish conquest. The family estates were 
 at Quinta de Silva, some eight miles from Oporto ; but they 
 had passed into other hands long before the painter's birth, 
 and his ancestors had sunk into comparative poverty. This 
 led Velasquez's grandfather, Diego Rodriguez de Silva, to 
 leave Portugal with his wife Maria, and to settle in Seville, 
 then the most flourishing city of the Peninsula, where he 
 might hope to improve his fortunes. There a son was bom 
 to them, who received the name of Juan. The latter 
 wedded Geronima Velasquez, the daughter of one of the 
 lesser noblemen of Seville. 
 
 254 
 
J^fi^^ 
 
 «4J«^ 
 
 By himself. From "Las Meninas," Prado, Madrid 
 
VELASQUEZ 255 
 
 The great master was born early in June, 1599, at No. 8 
 Calle de Gorgoja. The house has disappeared. He was 
 christened on the 6th of that month, Diego Rodriguez, after 
 his grandfather. As was the custom in Andalusia, he 
 afterwards added the maternal name, so that he became 
 Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velasquez. As the name of 
 Velasqiiez was that of an influential family, Diego employed 
 it in after years in preference to his paternal surname. He 
 spelled it Velazquez^ with two z's, in the Spanish fashion ; 
 but as Velasquez, with an s, has become the established 
 form in English, we shall adhere to its use, just as we write 
 Saragossa for Zaragoza. 
 
 Velasquez was singularly fortunate in all the circum- 
 stances of his life. So far as we know, he never had a 
 serious disappointment or defeat. Born of ancient and 
 honorable families on both sides, he was entitled in that 
 land of hidalgos to the respect due his birth. His parents 
 were in at least comfortable circumstances, so that he never 
 felt the pressure of want. Though of noble blood, they did 
 not oppose his vocation as a painter. In early youth he 
 acquired the royal favor, which continually augmented to 
 the end. 
 
 He is a striking exception to Taine's dictum that art is a 
 product of its surroundings. Born and reared in gay, 
 splendor-loving, fanatically religious Seville, the great 
 apostle of realism, who planted his feet more firmly on the 
 earth than any other man who ever wielded the brush, and 
 the basis of whose color scheme is a silvery gray, should 
 have been a painter of religious pictures, gorgeous in color- 
 ing. Genius, however, follows its own path, often despite 
 its environment. 
 
 At the time of Velasquez's birth, Seville was at the height 
 of its greatness. It was the chief port of Spain, and into 
 its lap was poured the wealth of the Indies. The river 
 Guadalquivir, now so inadequate for commercial purposes. 
 
256 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 would float the small vessels of that day, so that Seville's 
 position was not unlike that of London on the Thames. 
 Before the discovery of America it had been the most 
 flourishing of Spanish cities. After that event its pros- 
 perity was enormous. The plunderings of the conquista^ 
 dores and the enormous profits of legitimate trade with new 
 lands that knew not the value of European goods went alike 
 to enrich the Queen of Andalusia. In its aspect it was 
 then, as it remains to-day, more than half Oriental. Its 
 mansions were built around courts where fountains played 
 beneath the shadow of palms and where the scent of flowers 
 was heavy on the air ; and the walls were adorned by far- 
 sought objects of art, the spoils of distant lands. 
 
 The first employment of the newly acquired wealth was 
 in the erection ol that vast cathedral, second in size only 
 to St. Peter's at Rome. Then there were built great num- 
 bers of churches and monasteries. As under Philip the 
 Second and his feeble son the power of the Church con- 
 tinually grew and religious fanaticism became ever more a 
 mania, the number who donned the monastic habit inces- 
 santly increased until the city was full of monasteries and 
 convents. All these demanded the brush of the painter to 
 adorn their walls and to keep at high tension the faith of 
 their inmates. The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception 
 of the Virgin, sanctioned by Pope Paul V in a brief of 1617 
 when Velasquez was eighteen, also gave a great impetus 
 to painting. It was a new and a splendid theme that must 
 be illustrated. They saw the Immaculate Conception in the 
 words of the Apocalypse,, " And there appeared a great 
 wonder in heaven ; a woman clothed with the sun, and the 
 moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve 
 stars " ; a subject that Murillo was to make the theme of 
 many delightful works. It appealed not only to their de- 
 votion but to their pride ; for it was in Seville that the doc- 
 trine had first been advocated. 
 
VELASQUEZ 257 
 
 So, there was no lack of painters in Seville, and when 
 Velasquez appeared on the scene they were busy in paint- 
 ing a wilderness of pictures for the decoration of the re- 
 ligious edifices. These were mostly of a Spanish type ; the 
 craze for imitating the Italians having passed away before 
 Velasquez's day. 
 
 Diego as a boy was sent to the grammar school; but his 
 vocation for painting was irresistible, and his parents put 
 him at the age of thirteen under Francisco de Herrera, 
 then called " the Michelangelo of Seville." He was a 
 painter of considerable merit, but of an ungovernable 
 temper that bordered on insanity. His intolerable fury 
 drove his son to seek a refuge in Italy and his daughter to 
 a convent. Year by year he became more violent in disposi- 
 tion and in the conception and execution of his pictures, 
 till at last they seem to be the work of a. madman. It has 
 been said of his later works that " he cast off the rules of 
 art as a maniac does his clothes." It is related that when 
 everyone else had deserted him, he would have his old cook 
 smear the colors on his vast canvases with her mop, and 
 would then work them into pictures. Mr. Ricketts says 
 that his later brushwork reminds one of macaroni in to- 
 mato sauce. Still, he was enormously esteemed as a painter 
 by his fellow-townsmen, and at the time when Velasquez 
 entered his studio he had not yet gone to the ultimate ex- 
 treme. His violence, however, soon became intolerable to 
 the young nobleman distinguished through life for his 
 courtly nianners ; and the boy left the raging master for the 
 pleasanter studio of Francisco Pacheco. 
 
 Pacheco was a poor painter, but, like many other poor 
 painters, he was a good teacher. He had never been to 
 Italy, but he had gone to Madrid, studied the masterpieces 
 of Italian art in the royal palaces, and returning to Seville, 
 had opened a school of painting. He was a cultivated gen- 
 tleman of elegant manners, and his studio became the meet- 
 
258 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 ing place for the artists and scholars of the city. He filled 
 it with small, hastily made portraits of all the eminent per- 
 sonages who had honored him with a visit. He was the 
 Vasari of Spain. His Arte de la Pintura is a poor enough 
 treatise oh painting, written in a stilted and tedious style; 
 but it contains a grpat deal of information about Spanish 
 artists, and to it we owe most of what we know of Pacheco's 
 distinguished pupil. Pacheco's figures are wooden and life- 
 less, his pictures stiff in drawing, unhappy in composition 
 and notably poor in color ; and his literary style is no better. 
 He had, however, the great merit of an extreme liberality 
 of view. He did not wish his pupils to imitate him, but to 
 develop their own talents, whatever they might be. 
 
 He was a good master for Velasquez. He could teach 
 the youth the elements of technic, and that was all that so 
 original a genius required. He, moreover, insisted strongly 
 upon drawmg, and kept his pupils constantly at work with 
 the pencil. Velasquez was never notable, as a draughts- 
 man. He thought in contours, not in lines. Few draw- 
 ings by his hand have come down to us, and these but 
 slight and hasty. When he saw an object the modeled 
 figure presented itself to his eye. Still, the general excel- 
 lence of the drawing of his pictures shows the results of his 
 early discipline. 
 
 Pacheco tells us that Velasquez " kept a peasant lad as 
 an apprentice, who served him as a model in an endless 
 variety of actions and postures — weeping, laughing, some- 
 times asleep and sometimes awake, and without avoiding 
 any difficulty whatever, until he had grappled with every 
 form of expression. From this model he drew many heads 
 in charcoal and chalk on blue paper, and made similar 
 studies from many other natives, until, in this way, he 
 gained his sure hand in rendering a likeness." 
 
 Velasquez remained with Pacheco for five years, and on 
 
VELASQUEZ 259 
 
 April 23, 1618, the master bestowed upon him the hand 
 of his daughter, Juana de Miranda. Of this Pacheco 
 writes : " After five years of education and training, I 
 married him to my daughter, induced by his youth, in- 
 tegrity and good qualities, and the prospects of his great 
 natural genius." This shows that Pacheco was not only 
 a man of discernment, but of notable tolerance; for the 
 young Velasquez no sooner learned the rudiments of his 
 craft than he forsook all the teachings of his master. 
 Pacheco had striven to teach him the lofty style of the great 
 Italians, and forthwith the youth proceeded to paint kitchen 
 scenes which the Spaniards call bodegones. Instead of the 
 idealism which Pacheco taught, he turned to a most unin- 
 spired realism. He was like the duckling that the hen has 
 hatched out, and which then takes to its native element, to 
 the horror of its foster mother. 
 
 Only the most thick and thin partisans of Velasquez can 
 find much to admire in these early bodegones. They are 
 deficient in composition and character, nor have they that 
 lifelike quality that distinguishes the master's maturer 
 works, while their color is dark and almost monochrome. 
 Much the best of them is the Aguador or Water Seller of 
 Apsley House. This is a meritorious, but not a great work. 
 There is a sad dignity in the attitude of the water carrier, 
 and much realistic power in it all. 
 
 There was nothing surprising in the taste of the young 
 Velasquez for bodegones. Despite their grandiloquence 
 there is in the Spanish nature a profound sense of the real. 
 Beside Don Quixote on his charger, there always rides 
 Sancho Panza on his ass. While Garcilaso de la Vega was 
 writing his lyrics, Mendoza, or more probably someone else, 
 was writing the " Lazarillo de Tormes," that novel of low 
 life that found a thousand imitators. In the year of 
 Velasquez's birth, Mateo Aleman of Seville published " Guz- 
 
26o THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 man de Alfarache," the most successful of these imitations. 
 Italian art was in Spain always an alien influence which was 
 never well assimilated, though at one time universally 
 copied. Even now these bodegones of Velasquez and his 
 contemporaries might be mistaken by the undiscerning for 
 the work of a Dutchman. Nor is this so surprising as it 
 might seem. Spain was the first country to learn from 
 Flanders the art of painting in oil, and the early Spanish 
 school is based upon the Flemish. 
 
 In these early days the young man also tried his hand at 
 religious painting. Like all his colleagues he was forced 
 to paint an Immaculate Conception; but instead of the 
 beautiful Queens of Heaven to whom Murillo has accus- 
 tomed us, he gives us a commonplace peasant girl who is 
 evidently standing for her portrait, and whose homely fea- 
 tures are reproduced with no attempt at idealization. So, 
 in his St. John at Patmos we have a common young peasant 
 of Moorish type with no suggestion of elevation of soul or 
 even of intelligence. In 1619, when twenty years of age, 
 he painted the Adoration of the Kings, in the Prado, and 
 during the next year, he is believed to have painted the 
 Adoration of the Shepherds, of the National Gallery. The 
 former is presented in so familiar a manner that it 
 is little more than a bodegon, or kitchen piece, and the 
 latter is remarkable for its poor color and its unattractive 
 types. It is only just to Velasquez to say that many now 
 attribute it to Zurbaran. Both are strongly realistic; but 
 as yet the realism is without charm, and it requires remark- 
 able insight to read the future greatness of the master in 
 these early works, as some have done. Still, they are good 
 for so young a man, especially when we consider that his 
 training had been in the wooden and lifeless school of 
 Pacheco ; and the Adoration shows marked skill in the han- 
 dling of light and shade. The figures are evidently por- 
 
VELASQUEZ a6i 
 
 traits, and as such they possess considerable power and are 
 clearly characterized. 
 
 One of his early religious pictures he converted wholly 
 into a bodegon. In Christ in the House of Martha, in the 
 National Gallery, our Saviour appears only in a distant 
 chamber with the Magdalen at his feet and Martha stand- 
 ing behind her, while all the foreground is filled by a dis- 
 contented kitchen wench, working at her table covered with 
 viands while an old woman admonishes her. It was a 
 strangely realistic mind that could conceive of such a sub- 
 ject in such a way. The perspective is poor, so that Christ 
 and the Marys do not seem far enough away for their re- 
 duced size. 
 
 We know that these bodegones of Velasquez were highly 
 esteemed in his day, and that at least one of them hung in 
 the Royal Palace. 
 
 While Velasquez was quietly studying in Seville, a great 
 event happened, which was to mold his destiny. Philip 
 
 III, the degenerate son of Philip II, passed away on the 
 31st of March, 1621, leaving the throne to his son, Philip 
 
 IV, a youth of fifteen. At once the young king seized the 
 reins of power, and disgraced and banished from court the 
 incompetent and corrupt horde that had battened upon the 
 kingdom during his father's reign. All Spain was in a 
 fever of joyous expectation. But they were soon to learn 
 that they had only exchanged King Log for King Stork. 
 It was speedily perceived that the bold action of the young 
 monarch was in no degree due to his own initiative, but that 
 he was merely a puppet in the hands of his minister, 
 Olivares. 
 
 This man, who was to complete the ruin of the Spanish 
 Empire, and to efface Spain as a world-power, had many 
 good qualities. Instead of the unbridled venality of De 
 Lerma, minister to the late King, he was incorruptibly 
 
262 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 honest. At a time when all public functionaries demanded 
 large gifts from their suitors, Olivares would accept noth- 
 ing save works of art. His industry and his application to 
 the public business were enormous and untiring. Bold, 
 ambitious, resolute, he was determined to restore the great- 
 ness of his country and to bring back the days when Spain 
 under Charles V dominated the world. In ordinary times 
 he might have met with a fair measure of success. But 
 he fell on evil days. At every point he encountered the 
 vast talents and the remorseless cunning of Richelieu. It 
 was a duel to the death between them ; and the Spaniard was 
 no match for the mighty Cardinal. A liberal and intelligent 
 patron of arts and letters, Olivares would have left a noble 
 name had his activities been confined to his role of Maece- 
 nas ; and while he ruined his country, his services to litera- 
 ture and the arts should not be forgotten. It should be 
 remembered, too, that it was his excessive love for Spain 
 and his ambition to restore her greatness, not venality and 
 corruption, that brought ruin on the land. He was not 
 merely religious, but devout to the point of fanaticism. In 
 his chamber he kept a coffin into which he would enter while 
 the De Profundis was chanted. Upon matters of faith he 
 talked like a friar. His brain and nerves were constantly 
 overwrought, and he spoke with excessive vehemence. All 
 hated him for his austere temper and all obeyed him out of 
 fear ; but he was a poor judge of men, and rarely chose a 
 fitting instrument to carry out his plans. 
 
 Olivares, who was born at Rome while his father was 
 Spanish ambassador to the Pope, was of an ancient and dis- 
 tinguished family of great wealth. He had resided in 
 Seville, where his father had been governor of the Alcazar, 
 or royal palace. He had shown himself a patron of artists 
 and men of letters ; and as the studio of the good Pacheco 
 was the favorite meeting place of painters and scholars, Oli- 
 vares had learned to know well the master of Velasquez; 
 
VELASQUEZ 263 
 
 and to know Pacheco seems to have been to like him. In 
 161 5, De Lerma had made Olivares chamberlain to the 
 Prince of the Asturias, the heir to the throne. As such he 
 not only superintended the Prince's education and the con- 
 duct of his establishment, but organized all his pleasures. 
 His one idea was to secure dominion over the Infante's mind. 
 So, he not only encouraged his natural fondness for the 
 chase, but arranged for him the facile amours in which the 
 youth delighted. He gradually won complete control over 
 the Prince, so that when the latter reached the throne all af- 
 fairs of state were entrusted to the minister, the monarch 
 even yielding up to him the royal signet. For all practical 
 purposes Olivares was the ruler, and the King was but his 
 clerk. All officers were appointed by him ; all the revenues 
 of the realm passed through his hands ; questions of peace 
 and war were settled by him alone ; and his ambitious voice 
 was always for war. 
 
 Meanwhile the young king was conscientiously doing his 
 duty, as he thought. Six hours each day he worked with 
 his minister, despatching the affairs of state. But unhap- 
 pily he saw only through Olivares' eyes, "and was in reality 
 but his emanuensis. 
 
 Strange to say, exactly a similar condition of affairs ex- 
 isted beyond the Pyrenees. The feeble Louis XIII was 
 equally under the dominion of Richelieu, and while he, too, 
 worked every day with his minister, it was the great Car- 
 dinal who settled every question of importance. And both 
 ministers devoted their talents to the task of sowing dis- 
 sension between the King and his family. With Richelieu 
 it was the ambition of the Queen Mother that was to be 
 <Jreaded, and the Cardinal used all of his more than fox- 
 like cunning to keep son and mother embroiled. In Spain 
 the danger was with the wife. Queen Isabella de Bourbon, 
 a daughter of Henry the Fourth of France, had inherited 
 much of her father's abilities, and was immeasurably su- 
 
264 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 perior to the King. Olivares justly feared her influence, 
 and to counteract it led the King from one transitory amour 
 to another, thus stirring up continual strife between the 
 royal pair. The King, though amorous, was most incon- 
 stant, and none of his favorites acquired any influence over 
 him, or threatened the power of his omnipotent minister. 
 Given up to his love affairs and to the pleasure of the chase, 
 he reserved for himself little part in the affairs of state ex- 
 cept the patronage of the fine arts, of which he was an 
 intelligent judge. In fact, his deficiency seems to have been 
 not so much of the mind as of the will. 
 
 Meanwhile two daughters had been born to Velasquez, 
 Francisca on the i8th of May, 1619, and Ignacia on the 
 19th of January, 1621. The latter died in infancy, the 
 former lived to become the wife of Juan Bautista Martinez 
 del Mazo, who was to paint so many of the pictures that 
 have been attributed to his great father-in-law. 
 
 With Olivares in power, Pacheco, who was the first to 
 realize his pupil's genius, thought that it was a good time 
 for Velasquez to try his fortunes in the capital. More- 
 over, Pacheco's old friend, the poet Francisco de Rioja, was 
 in office under Olivares, and much in favor with the min- 
 ister. So, in April, 1622, Velasquez arrived at Madrid, a 
 young man of twenty-two, bearing letters from his master. 
 He was kindly received by Don Luis and Don Melchor 
 del Altazar, who were hidalgos of distinction and~ influence. 
 A still more useful friend he found in Don Juan de Fon- 
 seca y Figueroa, formerly Canon of Seville, who occupied 
 the important post of Sumiller de Cortina to the King, and 
 whose duty it was to attend the sovereign at the Mass, and 
 raise and lower the curtain in the royal chapel. This 
 brought him much in contact with Philip, and he tried to 
 get the King to sit for his portrait to the young Sevillian. 
 The Monarch, however, could not find time, and after paint- 
 ing a portrait of the poet Luis de Gongora, whose artificial 
 
VELASQUEZ 265 
 
 and fantastic style did so much to spoil his country's litera- 
 ture, but who was then in high favor, Velasquez returned to 
 Seville. The portrait cannot now be identified with cer- 
 tainty. 
 
 But Fonseca proved a faithful friend, and his friendship 
 was the tide in Velasquez's affairs that led him on to 
 fortune. Shortly after the young man had gone back home, 
 Fonseca was sent on a mission to Italy. On his return, 
 however, he sent Velasquez fifty ducats for his traveling 
 expenses, and invited him to return to Madrid. The 
 painter hastened to obey ; and this time he was accompanied 
 by Pacheco, whose position and influence could not fail 
 to be of value in pushing the fortunes of his son-in-law 
 at court. Fonseca took Velasquez to lodge in his own 
 house. Here the first work of the youth was to paint the 
 portrait of his kind host. This was seen by a son of 
 Count Penaranda, Chamberlain to the Infante Don Fer- 
 nando, brother to the King. He was so pleased with it 
 that he carried it to the palace. Here it excited the great- 
 est admiration, and it was agreed that Velasquez should 
 paint the Infante. But the more they looked at the por- 
 trait the more they liked it, and finally the King himself 
 determined that he would sit in his brother's place. The 
 actual painting of the picture was delayed, however, by 
 the visit of the Prince of Wales, afterward Charles I, 
 who had come to Spain, seeking the hand of the Infanta 
 Maria, sister to the King. After spending six months in 
 Madrid, Charles returned to England without the bride he 
 sought. Before leaving he sat to Velasquez, who made a 
 sketch that was to be the basis of a portrait. For this he 
 received one hundred escudos. It has unhappily disap- 
 peared. It would be interesting to see how Charles, whose 
 features we know so well portrayed by Van Dyck's flatter- 
 ing brush, really looked when viewed by the searching eyes 
 of the greatest of realists. 
 
266 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 On August 30, 1623, three days before Charles set out 
 on his return to England, Philip gave Velasquez his first 
 sitting. Unhappily the picture has disappeared; but it 
 seems to have been a life sized equestrian portrait with a 
 landscape background. It was exhibited in the Calle 
 Mayor opposite the Church of San Felipe, and excited great 
 enthusiasm. Olivares declared that this was the first por- 
 trait of the King that had been painted; that all others 
 should be removed from the Palace, and that no one else 
 should ever paint his Majesty; and he invited Velasquez 
 to bring his family to the capital. The King granted the 
 painter a stipend of twenty ducats per month, with addi- 
 tional pay for each picture. This stipend was in 1640 in- 
 Creased to 500 ducats per annum. As the Spanish ducat 
 was worth only about sixty-five cents, this salary was 
 meager enough. He also conferred upon him an ecclesias- 
 tical sinecure that brought him three hundred ducats a year 
 from the revenues of the Church. The money, however, 
 he did not receive until three years later, • when Pope 
 Urban VIII granted the necessary dispensation. This was 
 not such a perversion of sacred funds as it appears 
 now. In those days, when painters devoted their talents 
 chiefly to the service of religion, it was natural that the 
 Church should contribute to their support. Let us hope 
 that the Church was a better paymaster than the King; 
 for the latter's treasury was always empty, and the artist's 
 salary was always in arrears. 
 
 Thus at the early age of twenty-three, Velasquez was in- 
 stalled as the favorite painter of a monarch of eighteen, 
 and began his long service of thirty-seven years, the most 
 dreary service to which any master of the brush was ever 
 condemned, painting continually the expressionless features 
 of the King and his still more unattractive family. Prob- 
 ably there was never a time in all those years when he did 
 not have a portrait of Philip upon his easel. 
 
VELASQUEZ 267 
 
 When Philip II made Madrid his capital, he granted 
 building sites on the singular condition that the King should 
 have the right to lodge anyone he pleased in the second 
 floor of any house. This enabled him to provide shelter 
 for his enormous court at a trifling expense. At the same 
 time it ruined the appearance of the city ; for to escape this 
 onerous burden the majority of the houses were built of 
 only one story, so that Madrid bore little resemblance to 
 the stately capital that we see to-day. As Velasquez be- 
 came one of the royal painters, he was no doubt provided 
 for in the accustomed manner; where, we do not know. 
 We only know that in 1626 he was given lodgings valued 
 at 200 ducats per year, and that when thirty years of age 
 he was lodged in the house of Pedro de Yta, in the Calle 
 de Concepcion Geronima. His studio was in the eastern 
 wing of the Palace, in the part called Casa del Tesoro, or 
 Treasury. It was the old Alcazar, which was burned in 
 1734, and which stood where the present royal palace now 
 stands. It was a gloomy old pile, dark and sinister, as 
 had been most of the men who had lived and ruled within 
 its blood-stained walls. The pictures were all in narrow 
 frames of funereal black. Even the glorious Titians were 
 so treated, and the light that fell upon them was insuffi- 
 cient to reveal their beauties. In this great, rambling 
 edifice of more than five hundred chambers were not merely 
 the apartments of the royal family, but the government 
 offices. 
 
 The life that was led there was as gloomy as the build- 
 ing. An oppressive ceremonial governed every act, and 
 crushed the gladness out of every heart. It was said that 
 the Spanish King knew at the beginning what he should 
 do each day of his life. Most wretched of all was the 
 Queen. Hemmed around on every side by a cruel eti- 
 quette, placed under a formidable old dragon of a duenna 
 whose business it was to see that she violated none of the 
 
268 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 iron rules of royal decorum, she was virtually a slave kept 
 to ensure a successor to the throne. Her person was so 
 exclusively the King's that no man might touch her on pain 
 of death, even though it were to save her life. Never al- 
 lowed to do a spontaneous act, she pined away in gilded 
 servitude. 
 
 Nor were the others much happier. Without freedom 
 there is no joy. It is not strange that the King had secret 
 passages, so that he might go whither he pleased unham- 
 pered by convention, or that he often escaped from the 
 unbearable ceremonial of his court to his hunting lodges, 
 where in the pursuits of the chase he could be a man. 
 
 The friendship between Philip and his painter, which 
 was to be ever strengthened by the passage of the years 
 and to be broken only by the artist's death at the age of 
 sixty, began as soon as tiiey met. The King would come 
 through the secret passage that led to Velasquez's studio, 
 and there he would spend many hours in pleasant converse 
 with the artist. A special chair was provided for him, in 
 which no one else was allowed to sit. What they talked 
 about we do not know ; but we do know that Velasquez's 
 influence was only for good, and that, raised by the great- 
 ness of his genius and the security of his position above 
 professional jealousy, he did all in his power to advance 
 the fortunes of his brother artists. The King had prac- 
 tised painting himself, and while he had attained to no 
 proficiency, his studies had given him an intelligent com- 
 prehension of the art. With Velasquez he could lay aside 
 the oppressive grandeur of his office, and talk as man to 
 ma'n, secure in the loyalty and discretion of his friend. 
 And when he went upon his hunting expeditions, he fre- 
 quently took the master with him. 
 
 When Velasquez was made painter to the King, he found 
 three others holding a similar oifice, — Bartolome Gonzales, 
 an indifferent native artist, and Vincenzo Carducho and 
 
VELASQUEZ 269 
 
 Eugenio Caxesi, two Florentines who practised in the man- 
 ner of the Italian decadence. When Gonzales died in 1627, 
 he was succeeded by another Tuscan, Angelo Nardi, of, the 
 same school. 
 
 All of these men were jealous of the rising star. To their 
 washed-out idealism his vigorous naturalism was not merely 
 hateful, but an object of contempt. They reproached 
 Velasquez with being only a painter of heads. When 
 the criticism was reported to him, he smilingly answered: 
 " These gentlemen pay me a great compliment. At least, 
 I know no one who can paint a good head," and he never 
 manifested the slightest resentment in exchange for their 
 ill-will. In 1633, Carducho published a book in support of 
 his views. He does not so much as mention his illus- 
 trious rival; but he speaks of realism and portraiture in 
 terms of contempt. 
 
 Finally, to put a stop to their recriminations, Philip pro- 
 posed a competition between his four court painters. He 
 assigned for a subject the expulsion of the Moriscos in 
 1609. It showed how narrow-minded and bigoted he was, 
 thus to choose Spain's most infamous and most disastrous 
 act — the banishment from their homes of a whole people 
 who were loyal to their rulers and whose industry secured 
 to their country a prosperity that Spain was never to know 
 again. It was a subject, too, apparently not well suited to 
 Velasquez's talents. The judges were the Roman artist 
 Crescenzi and Fray Juan Bautista Maynp, pupil of El 
 Greco, and drawing master to the King. They awardpd 
 the palm to Velasquez, and if he was further annoyed by 
 his feeble rivals, we do not know it. The picture that he 
 painted has disappeared. s. 
 
 In the meantime Velasquez was industriously painting 
 the portraits of the King and of the royal circle. Of all 
 the men in history Philip is perhaps the one whose appear- 
 ance we know best. From youth to age he was incessantly 
 
270 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 painted by one of the greatest masters of the brush and the 
 most unsparing of reahsts. Velasquez could not flatter if 
 he would. He was a painter of the eye, not of the mind. 
 He could paint only what he saw and as he saw it. So, 
 he gives us Philip exactly as he was at every period of his 
 life. We see the long, expressionless face, rather hand- 
 some though somewhat disfigured by the protruding under- 
 jaw of the Hapsburgs, the tall, erect form, marred slightly 
 by the thinness of the legs. As a man he was entitled to 
 respect, despite his failure as a ruler. Kind and just in 
 his disposition, he was upusually tolerant for a Spaniard of 
 his day. His self-control was so remarkable that he never 
 gave way to anger, and laughed only three times during his 
 long life. He was a patron not only of the arts, but of 
 literature. He favored Calderon, Quevedo and Rioja, as 
 well as various writers of lesser note. In the conduct of 
 public affairs he was thrown into the background by his 
 minister, but in the matter of dress he worked great re- 
 forms. The costumes of his predecessors, with the great 
 ruffs and other ungainly extravagances, he swept away by 
 royal decree, substituting instead the comparatively simple 
 and graceful dress with the turn-over collars that we see in 
 Velasquez's portraits. Unhappily his reforms did not ex- 
 tend to the ladies, who went about in horrible skirts so big 
 that they seemed to move in the center of a hogshead. 
 
 The King had two younger brothers. Don Carlos was an 
 abler man that he, who saw the danger of Olivares' course, 
 and would have overthrown him; but he was kept in the 
 background by the minister, and even prevented from mar- 
 riage by a thousand negotiations which, while apparently 
 directed toward securing him a suitable wife, were in fact 
 so conducted that no conclusion was ever reached. He was 
 short-lived, and when he died in 1632, it was suspected that 
 Olivares had poisoned him. The other brother, Don Fer- 
 nando, had taken holy orders, and was a cardinal. 
 
VELASQUEZ 271 
 
 However great were the faults of Olivares, he was to 
 the end a true friend to Velasquez; and to the painter's 
 honor be it remembered that Velasquez was faithful to him 
 even in disgrace. When he fell from power and was 
 banished to Toro, when he had lost the favor of the King 
 and was shunned as a leper, the great painter continued to 
 visit him in his exile. No doubt Philip appreciated the 
 magnanimity of his conduct, for no loss of favor ensued. 
 
 The portraits, even of these early days, are among the 
 marvels of art. In their merciless realism, so different 
 from the courtly flattery that made Van Dyck the favorite 
 of the great, Velasquez reveals to us the degenerate and 
 sinister faces about him with remorseless truth. As Mr. 
 Calvert well says, " There was never a deadlier satirist 
 than Velasquez, for he tells us the truth about a King and 
 a court to whom the truth was deadly." 
 
 For some years after his arrival in Madrid, Velasquez 
 painted nothing but portraits. These are somewhat hard 
 in modeling and low in color, but intensely vital. But in 
 1628 an important event in his life took place. Rubens, 
 then at the height of his fame, came to the Spanish court 
 as emissary of the Vice-Regent of Flanders. For nine 
 months he remained, discussing the political situation and 
 painting the portraits of the royal family for his mistress, 
 the Infanta Isabella. He ' and Velasquez became fast 
 friends, and were much in one another's company. Velas- 
 quez was but twenty-nine, while the great Fleming was 
 past fifty; but they had much in common. Together they 
 visited the Escorial and all the art treasures of the royal 
 palaces. It is strange that the companionship and example 
 of so great a man should have had no influence on Velas- 
 quez's style of painting. It proves how great was the 
 Spaniard's sincerity. He painted exactly as he saw things, 
 and in the way that seemed to him best to express his vi- 
 sion. He seems to have had no tricks of the brush. He 
 
272 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 simply tried to be true to himself, ta what his own eye 
 revealed to him. 
 
 But if association with Rubens did not change his 
 technic to any appreciable degree, Velasquez would have 
 been less than human if his mental range had not been 
 broadened by contact with a man of such vast information, 
 such varied experience, and such breadth of view. It is 
 probably to Rubens' influence that we owe Los Borrachos, 
 Velasquez's masterpiece in his first manner. Rubens no 
 doubt urged him to branch out and do something more than 
 mere portraits, and it is not impossible that he suggested 
 the subject. But in the execution what a contrast with 
 what the visitor would have done ! Instead of the splendid 
 color, the joy of the wine-cup, the exuberance of animal 
 life that Rubens gives us in similar scenes, we have a pic- 
 ture painted in low brown tones, and with no sense of glad- 
 ness. Spain is the most temperate of all Christian lands. 
 'I'o call a Spaniard a borracho, a drunkard, is an offense 
 that must be followed by a blow, like lache in French and 
 liar in English. And so, Velasquez approaches his topers 
 with none of the sympathy that Rubens felt. In his eyes 
 they are only making beasts of themselves. The Bacchus 
 who sits in their midst is but a commonplace youth with- 
 out beauty of form or dignity of aspect, while his votaries 
 show us the degradation, not the exhilaration, of the wine- 
 cup. It is a picture that any temperance society might hang 
 upon its walls. Velasquez painted it thus, not as a moral 
 lesson, but because it was thus he felt in the presence of 
 intoxication, and his sincerity was such that he could only 
 paint as he saw and felt. But with what realistic power 
 does he represent these topers! In all the range of art, 
 there is nothing that lives before our eyes with a more 
 compelling power. When we look at them we understand 
 the truth of the remark that Velasquez did not paint his 
 pictures, he willed them on the canvas. These figures seem 
 
VELASQUEZ 273 
 
 absolutely alive. But the picture has strange limitations. 
 It represents a scene out of doors, yet it was painted in 
 the studio, with the light falling upon the group through 
 a window on the left, and with no attempt at the diffused 
 illumination of the open air. The painting, too, is as hard 
 as it is strong. The picture was paid for under the title 
 of Bacchus on July 22, 1629, not long after Rubens had 
 left for the North. It was probably finished or far on its 
 way toward completion when he departed, and he must 
 have been astonished at the work, so powerful, and yet so 
 different from his own genial presentation of the favorite 
 vice of his people. 
 
 Another result of Rubens' visit was Velasquez's first 
 journey to Italy. The master does not seem to have been 
 a man of active mind. He was a painter by temperament, 
 not by reflection. He had the cunning hand and the pre- 
 hensile eye of the great painters, and this was his chief 
 equipment. He could paint anything that was set before 
 him just as he saw it, and with what was placed before him 
 he was content. If Rubens had not come to rouse him up, 
 it is quite possible that he would have been satisfied to 
 remain always in Madrid, continually painting the monarch 
 and his royal circle. But Rubens, who had learned so 
 much during his Italian sojourn, thought that his young 
 friend would, profit equally by a similar experience, and 
 urged him to go. He also seems to have used his influence 
 with the King and Olivares. The permission was granted, 
 and Velasquez departed in the train of the Marquis of 
 ^ Spinola, who, returning victorious over the Dutch, was go- 
 ing to take charge of the Spanish armies in Italy. The 
 King presented him with 400 silver dollars, while Olivares 
 gave him 200 gold ducats and letters of introduction to 
 many influential people at the Italian courts. 
 
 On August 10, 1629, they embarked at Barcelona, and 
 on the 20th they reached Genoa. Velasquez hastened 
 
274 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 straight to Venice, whose art he most admired. Here, as 
 everywhere else in Italy, there was intense enmity to 
 Spain. The bigotry and cruelty of the Spaniards had 
 earned them ' universal hate, which the cunning diplomacy 
 of Richelieu was fanning into flames. Venice was partic- 
 ularly exasperated. A few years before, the Spanish Am- 
 bassador, Bedmar, with treachery almost without example 
 even in the annals of Spain, had used his sacred office to in- 
 cite a conspiracy by which the Doge and the Senators were 
 to be murdered, while the Spanish governor of Milan and 
 the Viceroy of Naples, taking advantage of the confusion 
 that would ensue, should subjugate and plunder the city. 
 Venice was on the point of taking up arms in the crusade 
 that was planned against the Spanish tryanny, and Velas- 
 quez found everything intensely hostile. He took up his 
 abode at the Spanish embassy, no doubt as a measure of 
 security, and as he went about he required the protection 
 of a guard. 
 
 Velasquez always declared that Titian was the greatest 
 of painters ; but if we may judge from his actions, it was 
 Tintoretto, whose impressionistic painting has some affinity 
 with his own, that he really preferred. It is recorded that 
 he spent much time in the Scuola di San Rocco, that he 
 drew much from the Crucifixion, and that he copied for 
 Philip IV Tintoretto's Last Supper. 
 
 But Rome, then the center of the art world, called him 
 with imperious voice. On his way thither he stopped at 
 Ferrara, where he had letters to Cardinal Sacchetti. The 
 Cardinal invited him to put up at his palace ; but Velasquez 
 refused on the ground that their dinner hour would not be 
 the same ! Not rebuffed by this singular answer, the Car- 
 dinal procured him lodgings in town, and fed him from his 
 own table, let us hope at the right hour ; and when he left 
 furnished him an escort of honor. Velasquez hurried on 
 to Rome, not making the slight detour necessary to see 
 
VELASQUEZ 275 
 
 Florence and all its marvels of art. This was not so singu- 
 lar as at first it seems, for with the Florentine school the 
 great Spaniard had no affinity. 
 
 II 
 THE DECORATOR 
 
 At Rome Velasquez had letters to the powerful Cardinal 
 Barberini, who was a patron of the arts. The Cardinal 
 gave him an apartment in the Vatican, with liberty to visit 
 its treasures of painting and sculpture ; but Velasquez, see- 
 ing the Villa Medici, craved and received permission to 
 take up his abode in that earthly paradise. There he found 
 not only the charms of nature trained to man's enjoyment, 
 but the antique marbles of Cardmal Ferdinand de' Medici," 
 among which were the Niobe, the Venus de' Medici, and 
 the Wrestlers, now in the Uffizi. Here he painted the two 
 lovely landscapes in the Prado, the only authentic land- 
 scapes that we have from his hand, as true as Constable, as 
 delicate as Corot, and wholly modern in their effect and 
 aims. -They are only sketches, hastily done, but with so 
 penetrating an observation of the effects of light that they 
 are a joy to the eye and a distinct advance on anything 
 that had gone before. 
 
 Like everyone who has dwelt in the Roman villas in the 
 heat of summer, Velasquez found that Paradise was not 
 without its snake.' After two months spent in those um- 
 brageous solitudes, he was stricken with fever, and com- 
 pelled to remove to the neighborhood of the Spanish em- 
 bassy. Here the ambassador, Monterey, treated him with 
 the greatest kindness, knowing him to be the friend of his 
 King and the protege of the all-powerful Olivares; and 
 gradually health and strength returned. 
 
276 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 At Rome there were many eminent artists, among them 
 Guido, Domenichino, Guercino and Poussin, but it is not 
 recorded that Velasquez met any of them at this time. 
 Still, their influence was not unfelt. A modern of the 
 moderns, it was the painters of his own day rather than the 
 giants of the past who exercised upon him the little influ- 
 ence that his strangely self-centered nature was capable of 
 feeling. Many see in the Forge of Vulcan at the Prado 
 and Joseph's Coat at the Escorial, the influence of Guido. 
 If so, it is far removed. Only the choice of the subjects, 
 so different from his preceding works, can be traced to 
 Italian influences. In the intense realism, the powerful 
 painting, the plebeian types, the pictures are as far removed 
 as possible from the gracious but rather feeble idealism of 
 the Bolognese. In the Forge of Vulcan we have but a 
 group of common blacksmiths, half naked about their forge. 
 Though the picture was painted in Italy, the types are 
 Spanish. Evidently Velasquez used as models menials in 
 the service of the Spanish ambassador. The scene repre- 
 sented is that where Apollo comes to tell Vulcan at his 
 anvil of how Venus is betraying him with Mars. Apollo 
 takes a mischievous delight in the galling communication. 
 The rage of Vulcan is that which any village blacksmith 
 would experience under the circumstances, while his as- , 
 sistants look on with evident satisfaction. The irregular 
 features of the Apollo are anything but divine, while the 
 color is a monotonous brown. Yet so powerful is the 
 modeling of the faces and of the nude forms that the work 
 is a masterpiece. The same may be said of the Joseph's 
 Coat. The half naked men who show to Jacob the bloody . 
 garment are common shepherds of vulgar type ; but figures 
 have rarely been so intensely realized. 
 
 From Rome he was called to Naples to paint the portrait 
 of the Infanta Maria, sister to the Spanish King. After 
 her hand had been refused to the Prince of Wales, she had 
 
VELASQUEZ 277 
 
 been married to Ferdinand, King of Hungary, and was 
 now on her way to her new realm. She was naturally in 
 no great hurry to join the husband that she had never seen 
 in his half barbarous land, and among Neapolitan delights 
 she lingered for four months. Her brother, who wanted 
 her likeness now that she was passing from his sight for- 
 ever, commanded his painter to go to her in all haste. This 
 he did, and in. the Palace at Naples he painted the por- 
 trait that now adorns the Prado. 
 
 In that city Velasquez met the powerful Ribera, who 
 as court painter had charge of matters artistic for the 
 Viceroy. We know that he impressed Velasquez favor- 
 ably, for it was at Velasquez's suggestion that Philip IV 
 afterward purchased the collection of Ribera's pictures now 
 in the Madrjd gallery. But, as in the case of all other 
 painters, Velasquez looked, admired, and went his own 
 way, untouched by the influence of Ribera's example. 
 
 After eighteen months in Italy, Velasquez sailed back to 
 Spain. The King and Olivares greeted him with the great- 
 est cordiality, and the master must have been gratified to 
 learn that during his absence the sovereign had allowed no 
 one else to paint the royal portrait. 
 
 In his prosperity Velasquez was generous to his brother 
 artists. It was at his suggestion that Alonso Cano, Herrera, 
 Zurbaran and the sculptor, Martinez-Montanes came to 
 Madrid; and by his influence commissions were granted 
 them all. The young Murillo came in 1641, and during the 
 two years of his sojourn in the capital he received from 
 Velasquez every mark of kindness and much good advice, 
 as well as free access to the royal pictures. 
 
 In Italy Velasquez had not learned to imitate the style of 
 any painter. He returned as thoroughly individual as when 
 he left. Yet Italy had not been without its effect. His 
 view of art had broadened. He realized that it was not 
 enough that a picture should tell the truth. It must not 
 
278 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 merely convince; it must delight the eye. So the pictures 
 that he painted after his return have a decorative quality 
 unknown before. In their silver-gray harmonies they 
 sometimes make one think of Moretto ; but there is nothing 
 to show that Velasquez ever saw any characteristic work 
 of the Brescian master. 
 
 Conspicuous among the pictures of the time are the great 
 equestrian portraits of the King, of Olivares and of Bal- 
 thazar-Carlos, the heir to the throne. It seems probable 
 that the latter was the first painted. He was born October 
 17, 1629, during the master's Italian sojourn. The Infante 
 was an attractive child. He had inherited the vivacity and 
 intelligence of his mother, and in him the nation's hopes 
 were centered. He is represented as a boy of about seven 
 galloping upon his thickset pony, the baton of command in 
 his hand, and with a look that bespeaks one born to rule. 
 Beyond the brown foreground are the blue masses of the 
 Guadarrama Mountains, a landscape of the stern, severe, 
 but beautiful character that Spain presents, the whole 
 bathed in atmosphere and flooded with silvery light. For 
 Velasquez was the first to realize fully that the light of 
 day is silvery, not golden, as the great masters of the past, 
 preferring beauty to truth, had been accustomed to repre- 
 sent it. And he had the talent to make of this silvery light 
 a thing perhaps as beautiful as the gold of Venice, though 
 necessarily less striking. Certainly his silver harmonies do 
 not weary the eyes, but grow in favor with continued study ; 
 and there are many who prefer them to the golden glories 
 of Titian. 
 
 Olivares is depicted on a rearing charger, clad in armor, 
 in his hand the marshal's baton with which he is directing 
 the movements of an unseen army. In the background is 
 a far-reaching plain, from which there floats the smoke of 
 battle. The minister, who in the pursuit of his vain ambi- 
 tion sent countless thousands to their death, had never seen 
 
VELASQUEZ 279 
 
 even a skirmish ; but to the amusement of the court he loved 
 to be considered a distinguished soldier. No doubt Velas- 
 quez painted him thus by his command; but there is no 
 flattery in depicting his hard features. 
 
 Of the three, all surpassingly fine, Philip's is perhaps the 
 best. The most accomplished horseman in Spain, pos- 
 sessing a high sense of his royal dignity, he rides his pran- 
 cing steed like a king, while behind him we see again the 
 Guadarrama Mountains, blue in the distance. This picture 
 illustrates one of the peculiarities of Velasquez. A strip 
 of canvas is sewed on at each side, showing that when he 
 had drawn the figure he realized that the space was too 
 narrow. These enlargements and the numerous repaint- 
 ings and alterations in his work which a minute examina- 
 tion discloses, show that his fashion of painting directly 
 on to the canvas without preliminary studies had its disad- 
 vantages ; but no doubt we are indebted to it for much of 
 his supreme truthfulness. 
 
 In these three portraits, with their galloping horses, 
 Velasquez comes perhaps nearer to the presentation of mo- 
 tion than in any other work. It is strange that in all his 
 pictures there is scarcely any movement. He is content 
 to depict men and women seated or quietly standing. No 
 other great painter was ever satisfied with a range so nar- 
 row. But despite the limitations of his sphere, his realistic 
 power and the distinction of his style make him one of the 
 greatest masters. Indeed, style is perhaps his supreme gift. 
 
 The horses painted by Velasquez are of such pecuHar 
 forms, with their small heads and heavy bodies that they 
 hardly seem possible. Yet there is no doubt that they are 
 as real as their riders. The breed has disappeared, and 
 has been everywhere superseded by the long-bodied Eng- 
 lish type ; but there can be no question that it once existed ; 
 and was greatly esteemed. It appears in too many con- 
 , temporary pictures to be doubted. In Velasquez's case the 
 
28o THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 heaviness of the horses that he paints was aggravated by 
 their idleness. A horse which the King had once ridden 
 could never be mounted by another; and as he could not 
 give proper exercise to the many animals in his enormous 
 stables, they fattened unduly. 
 
 About 1638 or 1639, Velasquez ^painted his CruciiiMon, 
 in the Prado. It is a picture which his most violent 
 partisans condemn, because it is neither realistic nor im- 
 pressionistic, but classically beautiful. Spain is the land 
 of crucifixions. Nowhere else are they so numerous or 
 so horrible. In the autos da fe, where luckless heretics 
 were continually perishing in slow agony at the stake, in 
 the bull ring, in the judicial and inquisitorial tortures of the 
 time, the people supped full of horrors until they acquired 
 the taste. But this sort of thing was hateful to Velasquez. 
 Serene by nature, he abhorred the sight of souls and bodies 
 in pain. Complaint has been made of his Christ that the 
 body holds not the position of one hanging from the cross. 
 This is true ; but if the critics will only look they will per- 
 ceive that he is not hanging by his hands, but standing 
 upon the broad support to which his feet are nailed. He 
 was probably painted thus because of Velasquez's inability 
 to paint anything that was not before him. All his models 
 are in attitudes that can be indefinitely retained. But a 
 man cannot be kept hanging by his hands indefinitely, and 
 so the standing posture had to be resorted to. Yet we 
 confess that we can see in the picture only reasons for 
 admiration. The form is one of the most perfect in art, 
 worthy of a Grecian chisel; it is magnificently painted; 
 and the head, bowed in death, with the long hair falling 
 over the face, is a thing of infinite pathos. 
 
 The Christ bound to the Column, now in the National 
 Gallery, is less satisfactory. Face and form are less dis- 
 tinguished, indeed verging on the plebeian. The attendant 
 angel is a commonplace Spanish woman, who looks on 
 
VELASQUEZ 281 
 
 without conviction, and to whose shoulders wings have been 
 awkwardly attached. But the face of Christ, who has un- 
 dergone the scourging and has sunk down, broken and 
 exhausted, beside the column, is most pathetic. 
 
 Velasquez was to remain at court from 163 1 to 1649, 
 ever growing in favor with the monarch and continually 
 advancing in artistic power. In 1627 he had been made 
 Usher of the Chamber ; in 1633 he was given the benefit of 
 the.paso de vara de alguacil; in 1634 he was made an 
 officer of the Wardrobe; in 1643 he was made Groom of 
 the King's Chamber; in 1647 he was appointed Inspector 
 of the Royal Buildings. Yet such were the iron rules of 
 court etiquette that this gentleman of ancient lineage, this 
 close^friend of the King, was on public occasions classed, 
 by reason of his office as painter, with the royal buffoons 
 and servants. Thus on September 18, 1628, the King 
 granted him " the daily ration of a chamber barber " ; and 
 in 1643, the year in which he was made groom of the 
 chamber, a great bull fight was given in the Plaza Mayor, 
 and among the directions we read : " Velasquez is to be 
 put in the fourth tier with the servants of grandees, the 
 barbers of the Palace and other underlings." Again, it is 
 said in an entry of September 15, 1637: "The clothes of 
 the barbers and of Diego are to be reduced to 80 ducats." 
 In the eyes of the Spanish court, a painter, however great, 
 was but a menial. No wonder that he later on sought the 
 burdensome post of Aposentador Mayor, to save himself 
 from such humiliations. 
 
 On his return from Italy, Velasquez found the King in 
 dire straits for money. The countless wars that Oli- 
 vares had fomented, always with consequences disastrous 
 ,for his country, had drained the treasury of every ducat. 
 All salaries were in arrears. Even the royal body-guard 
 had not been paid for three years. But the King must be 
 amused, lest h? should turn his attention to ^flFair§ of Sts^te, 
 
282 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 From his father he had inherited an inordinate love of 
 hunting, and upon the sport enormous sums were squan- 
 dered, while the armies that defended Spain's far-flung 
 possessions were disbanding for want of pay. On these 
 expeditions Philip usually carried Velasquez, to entertain 
 him, by conversation, and to paint his portrait and the 
 scenes of the chase. One of these scenes only has sur- 
 vived, the Boar Hunt, in the National Gallery, The sport 
 seems to be tame enough, a number of mounted men tor- 
 menting a boar in an enclosure whence he cannot escape, 
 and in the presence of the queen and ladies, who are in 
 carriages within the wall, while humbler persons look on 
 from the outside. It is no great picture, but good enough 
 for the subject. 
 
 In the forest of El Pardo some six miles north of Madrid 
 (not to be confounded with the Prado, where is now the 
 royal picture gallery), the King had a hunting lodge. La 
 Torre de la Parada, to which he often retired to indulge in 
 his favorite pastime, and to escape the -intolerable cere- 
 monial of the Spanish court, which made life burdensome 
 to sovereign and courtiers alike. 
 
 Olivares undertook to surprise Philip by giving him an 
 arena for his favorite sport close at hand. Near where 
 the Prado now stands, the minister had a park. This he 
 enlarged till it embraced a square mile. In this he built 
 a palace called the Buen Retiro, with a chapel and theater 
 attached, while he stocked the park with game. All was 
 done in such secrecy that the King knew nothing of it until 
 in 1634 the Minister presented the gift, which seemed a 
 fairy palace sprung from earth at the touch of Aladdin's 
 Lamp. The delighted monarch took possession, and opened 
 it with a tournament in which he jousted with Olivares. 
 
 For the decoration of this kingly retreat, Velasquez 
 painted one of his masterpieces, probably the greatest of 
 historical pictures and perhaps the only one that gives real 
 
VELASQUEZ 283 
 
 pleasure ; for nothing can be drearier than the average his- 
 torical picture. One of the few successes of Philip's arms 
 had been the surrender of Breda, when the ' Marquis of 
 Spinola, Spain's Italian general, had compelled Justin of 
 Nassau to give up that important fortress. Spinola had 
 died of a broken heart after his defeat at Casale; but 
 Velasquez had crossed the sea with him, and there must 
 have been many portraits of so distinguished a man, so 
 that his features are no doubt truthfully portrayed. Every- 
 body remembers the wonderful picture — how in the pres-' 
 ence of the opposing armies Justin bows to present the key 
 of the fortress that he has defended with so much courage ; 
 the kindly and gracious dignity with which the conqueror 
 lays his hand upon his adversary's shoulder as he speaks 
 to him words of courtesy and praise ; the far-reaching plains 
 of Holland bathed in atmosphere and darkened by the 
 smoke of burning villages; above all, the lances that cut 
 the sky in so decorative a pattern, and which have given 
 to the picture its Spanish name of Las Lanzas. This is 
 the masterpiece of Velasquez's second period, the most 
 decorative and therefore the most popular of all his works. 
 As realistic as Los Borrachos, it is not merely true to na- 
 ture, but is a thing of beauty. 
 
 The faces that Velasquez paints are in general the least 
 expressive that were ever depicted. This is partly because 
 the subjects lacked both character and intelligence and 
 partly because the ideal of the Spanish hidalgos was to 
 appear on all public occasions utterly impassive. Their 
 supreme idea was to maintain their personal dignity. And 
 it must be remembered that Velasquez was himself a Span- 
 ish nobleman, who shared his countrymen's conception of 
 dignity as entire imperturbability. His achievement in lend- 
 ing an interest to these wooden faces, without expression 
 and without beauty, is one of the rarest triumphs of art. 
 
 We have no time to dwell upon the numerous portraits 
 
284 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 that Velasquez painted during these fruitful years between 
 his Italian journeys ; yet a few cannot be passed over. The 
 Infante Balthazar-Carlos was often painted, and one of 
 these is particularly delightful. The boy, dressed as a 
 hunter, with his little gun in his hand and his dog crouched 
 beside him, stands beneath a tree, while beyond him are the 
 blue mountains. It is a charming portrait of a charming 
 child, unhappily too short lived. And rarely has more de- 
 pended upon the life of a boy. His death left the throne 
 to his feeble brother Charles, the last degenerate scion of 
 a dying line, in whom the protruding lower jaw of the 
 Hapsburgs was so exaggerated that he could not chew his 
 food, too enervated to continue the family, whose death 
 exposed his country to the War of the Spanish Succession, 
 that final disaster that consummated the ruin of Spain. 
 
 In many pictures by Velasquez, the favorite dog of the 
 sitter is introduced; and perhaps no one has ever equaled 
 Velasquez as a painter of dogs. Not only the physical as- 
 pect of the animal is presented with faultless accuracy ; but 
 its inmost soul, with all its unutterable and unquestioning 
 love for its master, is bodied forth, with no sentimentality, 
 but with perfect truth. 
 
 It was propably about this time that Velasquez painted 
 the Admiral Pulido de Pare j a of the National Gallery. 
 Senor Beruete, who has devoted his life to the study of 
 Velasquez, and has added so much to our knowledge of the 
 painter and his works, attributes this to Mazo; but most 
 critics believe that the truculent figure is by the master. 
 Palomino tells us that when the King saw it he took it for 
 the Admiral himself, and abused him for not being at his 
 post in the Indies — a royal jest that must have given 
 much pleasure to the painter. 
 
 Velasquez rarely had an opportunity to paint women. 
 The Spaniards kept their women in a half Oriental seclu- 
 sion, and would not permit them to sit for their portraits 
 
VELASQUEZ 285 
 
 to any man. It is only the Queen and her daughters, whose 
 position made them public personages, who are regularly 
 painted. But there are two female portraits of this period 
 that are supremely fine, the Lady at Berlin and the Lady 
 with the Fan, in the Wallace Collection. Many persons 
 esteem the latter the finest portrait ever made of a woman. 
 It is presented with all the realistic power of the master,' 
 and in the features and pose of this high-born Spanish lady 
 there is a unique distinction. The lady at Berlin, though 
 less beautiful, is high-bred, intelligent and most attractive ; 
 she seems to live and breathe before us. So far as 
 we can see, the workmanship is not inferior. , Both are 
 much finer than Velasquez's other portrait of a lady in the 
 Prado. 
 
 In 1642 the blunders and crimes of Olivares bore their 
 fruit. In his desperate straights for money he undertook 
 to overthrow the privileges of the provinces, privileges 
 which Philip had sworn to respect. Portugal revolted, 
 elected the Duke of Braganza King, and established its in- 
 dependence. The Great Conde at Rocroy crushed the 
 Spanish army, and forever broke the prestige of the in- 
 vincible infantry of Spain. Catalonia rose in rebellion. 
 The crisis was so urgent that even the faineant King felt 
 compelled to take the field. He went to Saragossa to as- 
 sume command of his army ; but Olivares diverted him with 
 vain festivities, spending in empty pleasures the money so 
 pressingly demanded for the purposes of the war. And so, 
 after an inglorious sojourn in the capital of Aragon, Philip 
 returned without honor to Madrid. 
 
 At last, in 1643, the incapacity of Olivares became ap- 
 parent even to his royal master. He was dismissed from 
 office, and sent into retirement at Toro, where he died two 
 years later. Perhaps the only man who dared to visit him 
 in his disgrace and openly express affection for the fallen 
 minister was Velasquez ; and to the credit of Philip, be it 
 
286 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 said, that the master lost nothing of the royal favor by his 
 fidelity to his friend. In this, as in everything else, the 
 conduct of the painter was that of an honorable and loyal 
 , gentleman. 
 
 The immediate cause of the fall of Olivares seems to 
 have been curious. It was a rule of the prudish court of 
 Spain that while the King might have as many illegitimate 
 children as he pleased and confer upon them titles of no- 
 bility, none of them could enter the capital. Olivares had 
 no lawful heir, but a natural son named Julianillo, and he 
 wished to make Julianillo an officer of State. This was 
 too much; and upon this punctilio the man who had with 
 impunity wrecked his country's fortunes fell from power. 
 
 At first Philip announced that he would be his own prime 
 minister, and he undertook to hold the reins of government 
 himself. Soon, however, they slipped from his feeble 
 hands, and the place of Olivares was filled by his nephew, 
 Don Luis de Haro, though with authority less absolute; 
 and the King returned to the chase. In his domestic af- 
 fairs the fall of Olivares caused a happy revolution. The 
 dissension which the designing minister had continually 
 sown between the King and Queen passed away. Philip 
 realized for the first time the worth of the superior woman 
 whom he had so long neglected for ignoble favorites. Un- 
 happily it was too late. Worn out by vexations and hu- 
 miliations, she died the following year. 
 
 That indeed was a year of disaster for Spain. The evil 
 that Olivares had done lived after him. Everywhere the 
 Spanish armies were beaten back. Perpignan and Roussil- 
 lon, two of her fairest possessions, were seized by France 
 and lost to Spain forever. The King again found it neces- 
 sary to take the field to check the revolt in Catalonia. He 
 advanced to the frontier town of Fraga, and here he had 
 his portrait painted by Velasquez. After this exploit he 
 returned to the capital, while the war went on. 
 
VELASQUEZ 287 
 
 In 1646 a still greater disaster came to the afflicted coun- 
 try. The Infante Don Balthazar-Carlos, in whom all 
 the nation's hopes were bound up, died at Saragossa, after 
 a short illness, leaving the throne without a male heir. A 
 youth of seventeeuj he had gone thither with the King to 
 superintend the operations against the revolted Catalans. 
 His father was heart-broken; but with that fine fortitude 
 which was his noblest characteristic, he wrote to the Mar- 
 quis of Leganes, commander of the army in the field : 
 
 " Marquis: We must all of us yield to God's will, and I more 
 than others. It has pleased him to take my son from me 
 about an hour ago. Mine is such grief as you can conceive 
 at such a loss, but also full of resignation in the hand of God 
 and courage and resolution to provide for the defense of my 
 lands, for they also are my children. . . . And so I be- 
 seech you not to relax in the operations of this campaign until 
 Lerida is relieved." 
 
 While the troops were unpaid and the glory of Spain was 
 everywhere on the wane, the King continued his building 
 operations. By 1648 the New Alcazar was finished, and 
 for this and the Torre de la Parada, the royal hunting 
 lodge in the forest of El Pardo, decorations were required. 
 So it was resolved to send Velasquez to Italy to buy pic- 
 ' tures, to procure casts of antique statues, and to persuade 
 Italian artists to enter the service of the King, — a service 
 which was not popular owing to the uncertainty of pay- 
 ment. The order for his expenses was made on the i8th 
 of May, 1648; but it was not until October 6th that money 
 was found to meet it. Then, as an embassy was being 
 prepared to bring to Spain the new queen, Mariana of 
 Austria, Velasquez's departure was further deferred that 
 he might sail with it. Instead of seeking to enrich the im- 
 poverished blood of the Spanish sovereigns by wedding 
 with a more vigorous stock, the King had chosen his own 
 
288 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 niece, a frail girl of fourteen, to be his wife, with dis- 
 astrous consequences too easily to be foreseen, and the 
 inglorious extinction of his royal line. 
 
 It was not until January 2, 1649, that the embassy set 
 sail.' Barcelona was in the hands of the insurgents, the 
 other eastern ports devastated by the plague; so they had 
 to embark from Malaga, and only after a tempestuous voy- 
 age of five weeks did they land at Genoa. 
 
 Ill 
 THE IMPRESSIONIST 
 
 Velasquez reached Venice on April 21st, having stopped 
 at Milan and Padua. He hoped to secure valuable works 
 of art; but he arrived too late. The Signory, seeing that 
 in the city's decline its impoverished nobles and clergy 
 were disposing of the masterpieces that were its greatest 
 ornament, had made a law forbidding the sale of any not- 
 able picture on pain of death. So Velasquez secured only 
 Paul Veronese's Venus and Adonis, a Sea Fight, the Puri- 
 fication of the Daughters of Midian and some portraits by 
 Tintoretto and a sketch of his huge Paradise in the Hall 
 of ^he Great Council. 
 
 From Venice he_ was called to Naples, to present his 
 letters to the Count Onata, the Viceroy, who had been in- 
 structed to give him all assistance. He found Naples in a 
 state of sullen misery. Don John of Austria, the son of 
 Philip IV by the actress, La Calderona, who had been 
 named after Philip II's illegitimate son, the hero of Le- 
 panto, had put down the insurrection of Masaniello with 
 truly Spanish cruelty. Velasquez also found his friend 
 Ribera in despair. His beautiful daughter, Maria Rosa, 
 his favorite model for the Madonna, had been seduced and 
 
VELASQUEZ 289 
 
 carried off by Don John. So great was Ribera's shame 
 and sorrow that he never recovered from the blow, and 
 finally died of a broken heart. Naples under such condi- 
 tions was no pleasant sojourn; and so, after despatching 
 his business, Velasquez moved on to Rome, for the jubilee 
 of 1650. 
 
 On his former visit to the Eternal City he seems to 
 have ignored its resident artists; but this time, as a large 
 part of his mission was to get painters and sculptors to 
 decorate the royal palaces, he mingled much in their society. 
 That he made a good impression is shown by Marco Bos- 
 chini's statement that he was " the mirror of a courteous 
 and distinguished cavalier." This is the more creditable 
 to him because the cruelties of Don John at Naples had 
 still further embittere4 the hatred that the Italians felt for 
 their Spanish conquerors, and rendered them indisposed to 
 speak well of any of his race. At Rome he met Poussin, 
 then an old man, Salvator Rosa, Bernini, Algardi, and many 
 Other artists of lesser note. Here he had that conversation 
 with Salvator Rosa which Boschini reports, in which he 
 said that Raphael " pleased him not at all." Surely he had 
 not seen Raphael's portraits of Julius II and Leo X at 
 Florence, in which he would have found a realism equal 
 to his own. It was natural that Raphael's idealism should 
 have awakened no sympathy in the breast of the great 
 realist, as it awakens none in the bosom of many a realist 
 of our day. 
 
 Upon the papal throne Velasquez found Cardinal Pam- 
 phili, who had assumed the name of Innocent X as if in 
 bitter jest. His election had been opposed both on account 
 of his sinister character and his evil countenance. He was 
 fully aware of his unattractive appearance, and it is said 
 that he once drove from his presence the nephew of his 
 sister-in-law and mistress, Olympia Maldachini, calling him 
 " an ugly whelp, even uglier and clumsier than I am." In 
 
290 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 an unlucky hour for himself he called in the greatest and 
 most remorseless of realists to paint his portrait. 
 
 When the commission came, Velasquez, who had not 
 touched his brushes since leaving Spain, felt that he was 
 out of practice ; and so, to get his hand in, he painted first 
 the portrait of his Morisco slave, Juan de Pareja, seven 
 years younger than himself. The portrait proved to be a 
 masterpiece. It was hung in the annual exhibition of pic- 
 tures then shown in the cloisters of the Pantheon, and 
 aroused universal enthusiasm. Andreas Schmidt, a Ger- 
 man artist resident in Rome, writes, "All the other work 
 seemed painting, this alone, truth." Velasquez was at once 
 elected by the Roman artists a member of the Academy of 
 St. Luke. 
 
 Reassured by the success of this picture, he turned to his 
 task, and painted what is perhaps the greatest of all his 
 portraits, certainly the most terrible portrait ever made. 
 The Pope was 74 years old, but vigorous in health and of 
 a florid complexion. Velasquez made of his portrait a 
 symphony in red, as Whistler would call it. His red face 
 surmounted by a red cap, stands out against a red chair 
 and a redder curtain, while his garments are red, relieved 
 only by the white of his linen. The countenance is sinister, 
 cunning, powerful, remorseless, the countenance of a man 
 who allows no human weakness, no scruples of conscience, 
 to stand between him and the object of his ambition. 
 There he sits in the Doria-Pamphili Palace, leaving to 
 future ages the record of an evil life. When the old man 
 saw it, he remarked, " Troppo vero," " too true " ; but he 
 was pleased, and rewarded the painter with a chain of gold 
 and a medal. Whether he paid him also in money is in 
 dispute. One version^ says that he sent the price of the 
 picture by his chamberlain, and that Velasquez refused to 
 receive it so, saying that the King, his master, always paid 
 him with his own hand ; and that the Pontiff then sent for 
 
VELASQUEZ 291 
 
 him, and handed him the money himself. The other ver- 
 sion is, that Velasquez refused to accept payment, saying 
 that the King had already paid him. At any rate, he was 
 himself pleased with the work, for it is one of the three 
 pictures that he signed, subscribing his name on the letter 
 that Innocent holds out. Sir Joshua Reynolds, at a time 
 when Velasquez had been almost forgotten, saw the pic- 
 ture, and pronounced it the best portrait in Rome. 
 
 In this jubilee year the collection of antique statues in 
 the Capitol was opened, and from these and the sculptures 
 of the Vatican Velasquez chose wisely, having casts or 
 n^olds made which he carried back with him to Spain. 
 
 In the matter of his return Velasquez displayed a sin- 
 gular independence. On February 17, 1650, after the 
 painter had been gone a year, Philip wrote to his am- 
 bassador, the Duke del Inf antado : " As you know his 
 phlegmatic disposition, order him not to prolong his stay 
 any longer." One would suppose that such a command 
 from a despotic monarch would be instantly obeyed; but 
 Velasquez paid no attention to it; and on June 22nd, the 
 King again writes : " If he has not started already, which 
 I doubt, it would be well if you pressed him not to put off 
 his departure for a minute." Yet in spite of all this, the 
 master lingered in Italy for a year longer; reluctant to 
 renounce the bright freedom of Italian life for the cloistral 
 gloom of the Spanish court. Still, he had finally to go; 
 and he embarked at Genoa in June, 1651, and after a 
 stormy voyage landed on his native shores. 
 
 Notwithstanding his disobedience, Philip greeted him 
 with his accustomed favor, and in November following 
 paid him his salary for all the time of his absence. Velas- 
 quez's first task was to paint the pallid features and flaxen 
 hair of Mariana of Austria, the new Queen, who had come 
 while he was gone. He made several portraits of her, so 
 that her white face and unattractive figure, clothed in the 
 
292 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 preposterous garments of her day, are familiar. Despite 
 her appearance, she was lively and fond of practical jokes, 
 such as turning loose a lot of mice among the ladies of 
 her court, to see them jump about and climb on chairs 
 with their hogshead skirts. It is recorded that her duenna 
 had to reprove her for laughing too loud — a sound rarely 
 heard in those grim chambers, so dark that the great 
 Titians upon the walls could scarcely be seen. But the 
 union was one that heaven could never bless. The daughter 
 of Philip's beloved sister Mary, Empress of Austria, 
 Mariana had been betrothed to Balthazar-Carlos; but 
 when that unhappy prince died Philip concluded to take 
 her for himself. From a marriage between niece and 
 uncle no good could be expected, even if both parties were 
 of purest blood; but when, as in this case, both were de- 
 generates, the deplorable result was easy to foresee. The 
 King was madly in love with her, and showed toward her 
 a fidelity strangely at variance with his treatment of the 
 former queen. She bore him four children, each feebler 
 than the other; Margarita, whom Velasquez has immortal- 
 ized in many pictures, particularly in his masterpiece. Las 
 Meninas; Philip Prosper, whom he painted in the fine work 
 now in the Museum at Boston, epileptic and hydrocepha- 
 lous, of whom Querini says that he was " lethargic and 
 colorless, after the Austrian manner, with a large head 
 and little strength in his knees," and who died when four 
 years of age ; Ferdinand Thomas, who lived but two years ; 
 and Carlos, born after Velasquez's death, who succeeded 
 his father on the throne, and was the last of his race. 
 When she came to Spain, a capricious child of fourteen, to 
 be the spoiled darling of a husband thirty years her senior, 
 Mariana's evil disposition and want of intelligence were 
 covered by her youth; but during her long regency as 
 guardian of her imbecile son they had full play, and under 
 
VELASQUEZ 293 
 
 her guidance Spain sank to the lowest point of her in- 
 credible abasement. 
 
 A year after his return, Velasquez, upon his own peti- 
 tion, received the important office of Aposentador Mayor, 
 or marshal of the palace. It was a position of great labor 
 and responsibility. He had to look after the management 
 of the royal dwellings; to furnish light, heat and food; 
 to assign the apartments ; to organize the festivities of the 
 court; to act as quartermaster during the royal journeys; 
 and to do many other things beside. Two motives prob- 
 ably led him to undertake these burdensome duties: a 
 salary of about two thousand dollars was attached to the 
 office, and then it raised him out of the rank of the buffoons 
 and servants with whom he had formerly been classed — 
 a position that must have been galling to one of his dig- 
 nity and pride. The office, too, gave him and his family 
 apartments in the Palace. 
 
 Velasquez was well fitted for his onerous position. 
 Handsome in person, of erect carriage and dignified man- 
 ners, wearing his rich garments like a prince, he was a 
 suitable man to lead any court function. His duties were 
 such as often to arouse the resentment of the punctilious 
 inmates of the palace, always ready to take offense at any- 
 thing that could be construed into a want of regard for 
 their dignity ; but the calm suavity of the master disarmed 
 their wrath, while his justice gave them no cause to com- 
 plain. The office was too burdensome to be filled by an 
 indolent . Spanish grandee, and so it was conferred upon 
 persons of honorable but lower rank. The aposentador 
 did not possess the right of wearing his hat in the presence 
 of the King. While in the palace he went without hat or 
 sword, but with his cloak about him. The hours of his 
 service were long ; for it was his duty to open and to close 
 the palace doors; and in the meantime a thousand details 
 
294 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 of administration pressed upon him for attention. The 
 position would have been a hard one under any circum- 
 stances ; but with an empty treasury and no funds to meet 
 the most urgent necessities, it must have been aknost in- 
 tolerable. But his most terrible trials were upon the 
 journeys of the court. All travelers of the time cry out 
 against the hardships of a journey in Spain. There were 
 no comforts, not even the common necessaries of life, to 
 be found outside the cities. All manner of furniture, beds, 
 bedding, wine and provisions had to be transported on the 
 backs of mules, for there were few roads that even a cart 
 could traverse. 
 
 In 1654, as aposentador mayor, he attended the removal 
 of the bodies of the royal dead to the sepulchral crypt be- 
 neath the great church of the Escorial that had at length 
 been made ready. It was a ghastly sight. While the King 
 and his court looked on, each coffin was opened for in- 
 spection before putting it into its final resting place in 
 that splendid but cold and forbidding chamber. Querini, the 
 Venetian envoy, has preserved for us a record of the ap- 
 pearance of the great Emperor Charles V. He says: 
 " The likeness of the Emperor to his portrait could be 
 recognized quite well. He had a rather full, fair beard; 
 the body was under the average size, the bones thin, the 
 flesh dry and meager; nose and lips, fingers and toes were 
 deformed by the gout, which does not even spare the 
 dead." 
 
 The King was deeply affected by these evidences of the 
 mortality even of his royal race, and as a propitiatory offer- 
 ing to the shades of his ancestors, he filled the Sacristy of 
 the Escorial with many of his finest pictures, some of 
 which still remain where he had them hung. Among these 
 is the Joseph's Coat of Velasquez. Fortunately this is the 
 only one of the master's works hidden in this inaccessible 
 and not too well lighted spot. 
 
VELASQUEZ 295 
 
 As Velasquez returned from the first Italian journey a 
 decorator, so he returned from the second an impressionist. 
 He is the great first impressionist, around whose feet his 
 modern disciples creep. Impressionism is a term that has 
 been used to cover many sins against good taste and com- 
 mon sense; and its aberrations have been so numerous 
 that it is hard to define. With Velasquez it meant a pic- 
 ture presenting a scene as it would be looked at as a whole 
 with the eyes centered on one point of view ; a sacrifice of 
 non-essentials to the general effect; a freer way of paint- 
 ing with more liquid pigments and broad brush strokes 
 that show over-much when closely regarded, but which melt 
 into harmony at the proper distance ; above all, an insistence 
 upon the atmosphere that surrounds all objects. 
 
 Several causes besides his own volition probably con- 
 tributed to this change. The lengthening vision of age 
 perhaps compelled him to stand farther from his canvas. 
 It is reported that he used brushes so long that he could 
 keep the picture and the sitter at the same focus. If so, 
 it must have been in these later days. The story is prob- 
 ably apocryphal, for as he stands in Las Meninas, his 
 brushes are of no unusual length. Then the unsteadiness 
 of hand that comes with age may have forced him to paint 
 with less minuteness. Haste, too, may have caused him 
 to adopt a more summary method of painting; for the 
 duties of his new office must have left him little time for 
 his art. At any rate, his increase in skill more than keeps 
 pace with the demands upon his time; for the pictures 
 painted after his second voyage to Italy are the finest of 
 all. The method, however, is wholly his own, and owes 
 nothing to Italian examples. 
 
 It was his desire to concentrate interest on the point of 
 sight that led Velasquez to paint the hands in so summary 
 a fashion. Most great painters have prided themselves on 
 the beauty of their hands, Velasquez nearly always be- 
 
296 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS ' 
 
 stows but slight attention on his, lest they lure the eyes of 
 the spectator from the face. 
 
 It was probably after his return that he painted the fine 
 portrait of the sculptor Martinez-Montanes, which used to 
 be called Alonso Cano, no one knew why. As a rule 
 Velasquez was singularly unfortunate in his sitters. They 
 are usually sinister or degenerate, and he paints them as 
 they are. Here, however, is a splendid gentleman, honest, 
 intelligent and refined; and the painter shows the fullest 
 appreciation of the nobility of his character. 
 
 Velasquez about this time expended his maturest talents 
 on the most unattractive subjects, the deformed dwarfs, 
 the jesters and idiots of the palace. It was not his fault 
 that he painted them. It was one of his duties as court 
 painter. His predecessors had painted the court fools. 
 His successors did the same. 
 
 The practice of keeping jesters at court dates fronj the 
 days of Imperial Rome. But nowhere was it carried to 
 such an extent as in Spain. The gloom of the Spanish 
 court required some relaxation; and it found it in the bit- 
 ter jests of its buffoons. Its tyranny demanded some 
 freedom of speech, and to the clowns full license was 
 granted. Of Velasquez it must be said that his genius 
 lends an interest even to these wretched beings. He 
 painted them with a skill and insight into character that 
 have never been surpassed. Perhaps the finest of the 
 group is the Sebastian de Morra, in whose face can be read 
 all the melancholy of a mind imprisoned in such a body, and 
 made the butt of every ribald jest. 
 
 •The keeping of dwarfs at court we can understand. Men 
 so deformed often possess a bitter wit. But what de- 
 graded taste could have led the King and his courtiers to 
 keep about them the poor idiots whom the master paints, 
 such as the Idiot of Coria, and the Boy of Vallecas, we 
 cannot imagine. The taste that could take pleasure in 
 
VELASQUEZ 297 
 
 making a mock of such misery is hard to comprehend. It 
 is said that at his birth the Child of Vallecas was of 
 monstrous size and possessed a full set of teeth; but that 
 seems scant reason to preserve his later aspect, when he 
 was but a commonplace, deformed idiot. 
 
 The masterpiece of Velasquez, the greatest impressionist 
 picture ever painted, is Las Meninas. It represents Velas- 
 quez at his easel, painting a large picture. The Infanta 
 Margarita, born July 12, 1651, the last pale flower of a 
 dying race, five years of age, attended by her maids in 
 waiting (Meniiias), her two hideous dwarfs and her great 
 dog, occupies the center of the composition, and all the 
 interest, all the light is centered on her dainty little figure. 
 The upper half of the picture is filled only with the lumi- 
 nous shadows of the great room. In a mirror at the back 
 the King and Queen are seen, while in an open door, whose 
 bright light contrasted with the darkness of the room is 
 supremely effective, one sees the figure of Don Joseph 
 Nieto, the Queen's quartermaster. Velasquez himself is 
 of noble aspect, a true Spanish gentleman. It is not sur- 
 prising that Raphael Mengs exclaimed when he looked on 
 this masterpiece, " Velasquez seems not to paint, but to will 
 his figures on the canvas." 
 
 It is said that when the King saw it, he declared that 
 one thing was wanting, and taking the brush, he painted 
 on the master's breast the cross of Santiago, one of the 
 most coveted decorations. The King intended well; but 
 he had a hard time carrying out his plan. The Council 
 of the Orders of Santiago, Calatrava and Alcantara when 
 called upon to confirm his action, objected that Velasquez 
 had earned his bread by the labor of his hands and that 
 his ancestry was not noble. To the first charge Velasquez 
 answered that he had never painted save for his own pleas- 
 ure and in obedience to the King; to the second, by as- 
 serting his high descent. Determined that no mere painter 
 
298 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 should have such an honor, the council interposed every ob- 
 stacle. More than a hundred witnesses gave their testi- 
 mony. Finally an unfavorable report was made on the 
 ground that Velasquez's ancestry was not sufficiently distin- 
 guished. Then at last the King procured a dispensation 
 from the Pope, and on July 29, 1659, ^ ^^ttle more than a 
 year before the master's death, he received the decoration by 
 royal decree. Even then it was not until November 2nd, 
 and after the King had issued to Velasquez a patent of 
 nobility, that the dress of the order was deUvered to him. 
 Unhappily the days that he had to wear it were few. 
 
 Another great masterpiece of this period, which some 
 prefer to Las Menims, is Las Hilanderas {The Weavers), 
 showing the interior of the royal tapestry factory at Ma- 
 drid. The colors are the\ brightest that Velasquez ever 
 used, the painting perhaps the most summary and im- 
 pressionistic. The modeling of the young woman in front, 
 on whom the full light falls, is marvelous. Here, as in 
 his early picture of Christ with Mary and Martha, the mas- 
 ter is concerned with showing two rooms, the rear more 
 brightly illuminated; but what a change from that somber 
 production to this gorgeous hymn to light! 
 
 Of this time, also, are the full length portraits of two 
 vagabonds, to whom the names of Mcenippus and Msop 
 have since been assigned with no reason except the desire 
 of the average man to know what he is looking at. Their 
 execution is of great breadth, especially the head of JEsop ; 
 and unattractive as are the subjects, they are among Velas- 
 quez's masterpieces. 
 
 About this time he painted for the Mirror Room in the 
 Alcazar three mythological pictures that have come down 
 to us and two that perished when the building was burned 
 in 1734. 
 
 The Mars was perhaps painted to show the master's dis- 
 gust with the wars that had ruined his country. The 
 
VELASQUEZ 299 
 
 figure is without distinction; the face that of a drunken 
 drill-sergeant. It has well been said that the form is that 
 of a broken-down acrobat. Of course, it is magnificently 
 painted, but nothing can redeem the vulgarity of the con- 
 ception. 
 
 The Mercury and Argus is much finer. There is some- 
 thing very tragic in this picture of Death creeping upon 
 Sleep. The composition, too, is ingenious, for the canvas 
 is of a shape difficult to handle, very wide in proportion 
 to its height, so that the figures must be presented crouch- 
 ing. 
 
 But incomparably the finest of the three is the Venus. 
 Owing to the Inquisition's rule that the female form should 
 not be painted' undraped, Velasquez had had no opportu- 
 nity to treat the nude figure of woman. Sir Walter Arm- 
 strong says that the Inquisition could not have been so bad 
 after all, and refers to the nude Titians in the Royal Palace 
 as a proof. But that only proves that the King was be- 
 yond the Inquisition's reach. Certainly the inhibition was 
 remorselessly enforced against lesser men. Only the 
 King's express command could have protected Velasquez in 
 carrying out such a commission. 
 
 It was fortunate indeed that he was commanded to paint 
 it. It is one of the greatest pictures in the world. As 
 we stand before it in the National Gallery two things com- 
 pel our wonder : How modern it seems, and how intensely 
 it is realized! We can hardly persuade ourselves that 
 it was not painted yesterday, that it is not being exhibited 
 for the first time in this year's salon. We comprehend 
 the truth of the Spanish saying applied to Velasquez's 
 pictures, Verdad, no pintura, " Not painting, but truth 
 itself." It seems a living woman that lies there with her 
 back to the spectator — a modern woman whose waist has 
 been confined by the corset, while her muscular limbs tell 
 us that she was perhaps a dancer. The face in the mirror 
 
30O THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 is but an indistinct reflection, for Velasquez understood 
 that two points of interest in a picture kill one another; 
 and he wished to rivet attention to the supple body that 
 lies so gracefully on the couch. An attempt has been made 
 to transfer this masterpiece also to Mazo, to whom cer- 
 tain critics would give so many pictures usually assigned 
 to Velasquez. It seems incredible, however, that one whose 
 acknowledged works are so inferior should have produced 
 such a wonder. 
 
 The master's last two pictures were painted in the serv- 
 ice of religion. The extreme admirers of Velasquez speak 
 ill of the Coronation of the Virgin because of the loveli- 
 ness of the Madonna's face, which, though strictly Spanish, 
 yet tells of the Italian quest for ideal beauty. The colors, 
 too, are brighter than he usually employs, though somber as 
 compared with Italian presentations of such a subject, and 
 wanting in harmony. The normal man, however, can look 
 with extreme pleasure upon the pure and exquisite linea- 
 ments of the Virgin, and may even regret that the master 
 did not give us more of a similar type. Yet his inabiUty 
 to grasp the ideal is conspicuous even here. The Virgin 
 is but a portrait of a high-bred Spanish dame, and in this 
 supreme moment when other masters reveal her in an 
 ecstasy of joy and gratitude, her handsome lineaments re- 
 veal only the pride of birth. In God the Father, too, he 
 has been ill advised. He takes too literally the term " An- 
 cient of Days," and gives us an old man with all the in- 
 firmities of age, bald-headed, toothless and red-eyed. The 
 picture was painted for the oratory of Queen Mariana. 
 
 The 5"^ Anthony visiting St. Paul the Hermit, Velas- 
 quez's last picture, all are united in praising. The land- 
 scape with its silvery gray tones, its great rock in the 
 foreground, its blue stream and the bluer mountains far 
 away, is a delight to every eye. The venerable faces of 
 the saints, the astonishment of St. Anthony as the raven 
 
VELASQUEZ 301 
 
 brings bread at his companion's prayer, are supremely fine. 
 Strange to say, in this last picture, this most modern of 
 painters returns to primitive fashions, and in the back- 
 ground depicts several other scenes in the lives of the 
 parties. The general tone is a remarkably cool silvery gray, 
 which some would call cold; and the painting is rapid and 
 impressionistic. The paint is piit on remarkably thin, 
 barely covering the canvas. Velasquez always painted, 
 thinly, and usually upon a light ground, which in his later 
 pictures became white. It is to this light ground that we 
 are indebted for much of the freshness of his works, which 
 have scarcely darkened after two hundred and fifty years. 
 Velasquez's coveted office was the cause of his death. 
 At last the long war with France, that had resulted in 
 the downfall of Spain's greatness, was brought to an end. 
 Under the guidance of Mazarin, the youthful Louis XIV 
 had asked for the hand of Philip's daughter, the Infanta 
 Maria Teresa, with a view to claiming the throne of Spain 
 on Philip's death; and it was arranged that the marriage 
 should take place on the Isle of Pheasants in the River 
 Bidassoa that divides the two countries. ,A magnificent 
 pavilion was to be provided for the purpose, decorated with 
 pictures and tapestries from the royal palace at Madrid. 
 The whole court was to be transported to the frontier; a 
 work of almost superhuman difficulty considering the deso- 
 lation and poverty of the intervening region. Four hun- 
 dred pack mules were required to transport the baggage. 
 Provision had to be made for feeding and lodging the mov- 
 ing host. It was infinitely more difficult than the handling 
 of an army. Soldiers can help themselves and expect 
 hardships ; but here was a vast horde of ladies and courtiers 
 accustomed only to luxury, and whose comfort and caprices 
 must be considered. The size of this caravan may be im- 
 agined from the fact that Don Luis de Haro alone had 
 more than two hundred followers. The head of the enor- 
 
302 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 mous procession had already reached Alcala when the tail 
 quitted Madrid. Along the route there were no suitable 
 inns, and shelter had to be provided at the twenty-four 
 stopping places, as well as bull-fights and festivities of all 
 kinds. At Alcala the court enjoyed a novel sport — a 
 nocturnal bull-fight, lit up by the tar and resin burning 
 upon the backs and horns of the wretched beasts. We 
 may be sure that Velasquez had no part in the preparation 
 of this brutal festival. He had no taste for cruelty, and 
 felt none of the Spaniard's joy in the infliction of pain. 
 The court set out on April 15, 1660, and reached San 
 Sebastian on May 11. Here it remained three weeks, and 
 for each day some splendid festival had to be arranged. 
 
 All went well. The marriage took place on June 7 with 
 becoming splendor. Louis was horrified at the bride's ab- 
 surd costume, with its balloon skirts, but pleased with her 
 person. He always found her wearisome, but when she 
 died he declared that her death was the only sorrow that 
 she had ever caused him. The kind-hearted Philip wept 
 bitterly at parting with his daughter. The day after the 
 wedding, the procession started on its return, reaching 
 Madrid on June 26th. Velasquez had managed everything 
 with admirable discretion, but his almost superhuman ex- 
 ertions were too much for a man already past sixty. He 
 must have been ill on the journey, for the report spread 
 that he was dead, and his family were astonished when he 
 returned alive. In a letter written on July 3, 1660, a week 
 after his return, he says that he is " tired with traveling 
 by night and working by day, but in good health." But 
 it was not long to last. On July 31 he was stricken with 
 a fever, accompanied by great weakness and frequent faint- 
 ing spells. The King sent him his own physicians, who 
 no doubt hastened the master's death by bleeding him in 
 the atrocious fashion of the time, and so' draining away 
 the little strength that was left. He sent, too, the Arch- 
 
VELASQUEZ 303 
 
 bishop of Tyre, who preached to the dying man a sermon 
 of an hour's duration. It is not surprising that on the 
 6th of August he passed away. 
 
 He was buried next day with great honor, clothed in the 
 garb of a knight of Santiago, with the red cross upon his 
 breast, and with hat, boots, sword and spurs. His grave 
 was in the Parish Church of Saint John the Baptist. Un- 
 happily his remains were lost on the domolition of this 
 church in the first half of the last century. Seven days 
 after his death his wife suddenly died, probably of a broken 
 heart at the loss of so noble a gentleman, — a knight with- 
 out fear and without reproach, if ever one there was. 
 There is a portrait in the Prado that is called Juana 
 Pacheco; but there is no reason to believe that it is she; 
 and we know not the features of the faithful wife of a 
 husband who, as far as history records, was faithful to her. 
 in an age of license. It seems more likely that she appears 
 in the splendid portrait at Berlin, on whose back the 
 words " Juana de Miranda " appear in ancient letters. 
 This, however, is considered by Senor Beruete a work of 
 Mazo's or of some other imitator of the master. 
 
 About the same time the King wrote with a trembling 
 hand on the margin of a decree touching Velasquez's ac- 
 counts, " Quedo adbatido," " I am overcome " ; and he 
 appointed Del Mazo, the master's son-in-law, to succeed 
 him as court painter. 
 
 It is strange how quickly and completely the master was 
 forgotten. His severe art did not please the men who 
 came after him, and his pictures had few admirers. Only 
 about the middle of the nineteenth century, when Manet 
 founded the school of the Impressionists, was he rediscov- 
 ered, and since then his fame has continually grown until 
 for some it has almost blotted out the recollection of every 
 other master of the brush. 
 
 Of all the great masters he was the least productive. 
 
304 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 He seems to have painted hardly a hundred pictures, some 
 of which have disappeared. In a life scarcely longer, 
 Rembrandt produced some six hundred, and others were 
 almost as diligent. Perhaps, like most Spaniards, he lacked 
 industry. Perhaps the multifold distractions of the court 
 consumed his time. 
 
 There are comparatively few who will concur in Thore's 
 judgment that he was " Le peintre le plus peintre qui fiit 
 jamais " ; but there are still fewer who will now deny him 
 a place among the great masters of the brush. The writer 
 confesses that when he first entered the Prado he was more 
 struck by the brilliant technique of Goya; but as he re- 
 turned day after day to study the pictures, the absolute 
 sincerity and truth of Velasquez and his quiet mastery 
 grew upon him until at length he realized that Velasquez 
 was a great master and Goya only a wonderful prestidigita- 
 teur of the brush. In his genius Velasquez is closely akin 
 to Thackeray. There is the same preference for unlovely 
 types, the same aloofness, the same coldly scientific analysis 
 of character and of the problems of art. But within his 
 somewhat narrow sphere the master is supreme. 
 
^^^^mdrcwjclt 
 
 From a portrait by himself 
 
REMBRANDT 
 
 1606-16.69 
 
 I 
 
 EARLY YEARS 
 
 The greatest of all Dutch painters, the magician who 
 rules over that enchanted realm where light and darkness 
 are forever contending .for the mastery and light is for- 
 ever triumphant, could justly boast that he was a citizen 
 of no mean city. His. native town of Leyden had a glori- 
 ous history. It was among the first cities of the North 
 in the development of the arts. The foremost of its early 
 masters, Lucas van Leyden, was one of the greatest paint- 
 ers in one of the world's greatest eras of artistic endeavor, 
 and he lived like a prince from the product of his brush. 
 But the exploit which has given the city its most assured 
 claim to immortality is its more than heroic defense when 
 besieged by the Spaniards in 1573-4, and when it beat back 
 the invincible armies and humbled the pride of Spain; 
 while the example which her citizens gave of courage 
 against overwhelming odds and of fortitude under the most 
 frightful sufferings was an inspiration to the Protestant 
 cause throughout the whole of Europe. 
 
 It is generally believed that Rembrandt was born on 
 July 15, 1606, though some contend for 1607 and others 
 for 1608. It was a fortunate period in the history of the 
 city. It had had time to recover from the effects of the 
 siege. Prosperity had returned. Trade and manufacturers 
 were active. The perils through which they had passed 
 had united the hearts of the citizens. The success of their 
 
 30s 
 
3o6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 wonderful defense had exalted their spirits and had given 
 them confidence in themselves and in one another. 
 
 When at the conclusion of the siege, William the Silent 
 had offered the city an exemption from taxes until it 
 should have an opportunity to recuperate, it had nobly 
 prayed that it be given a university instead. And so the 
 University of Leyden had been established, with an en- 
 dowment liberal for the times. Its success was immediate. 
 The freedom of thought that was granted drew to it many 
 of the greatest thinkers of the age. Its halls were thronged 
 with eager scholars. Owing to its influence, Holland was 
 the first of European countries to realize that witchcraft 
 was a delusion, and to repeal the laws that had consigned 
 so many poor wretches to the flames. It was likewise 
 owing to the influence of the University that Holland was 
 the first country to rescind the laws which made it a crime 
 to be a Jew. In consequence of these and other manifesta- 
 tions of a liberal and just spirit, the Dutch bounded for- 
 ward and took a foremost place among the nations. The 
 University brought with it, as great educational institu- 
 tions always do, a love for science, literature and philoso- 
 phy. It leavened the whole mass of the population; while 
 Elzevir's famous press, turning out many of the most beau- 
 tiful books ever printed, carried the means of learning into 
 every home. It was a good time and a good place to be 
 born. 
 
 By birth, Rembrandt was one of the people. He was 
 the fifth child of Harmen Gerritsz, who was half owner 
 of a windmill on the Pelican Quay near the White Gate, 
 where malt was ground for the making of beer. He was 
 a worthy man, esteemed by his neighbors, who chose him 
 twice as head of their ward. In addition to his interest 
 in the mill, he owned his own home — no doubt humble 
 enough — on the edge of the town beside the ramparts, 
 several other houses and gardens, and also a burial place 
 
REMBRANDT 307 
 
 in St. Peter's Church near the pulpit. His position was 
 modest, but honorable and independent. A face that con- 
 tinually reappears in Rembrandt's early work has been 
 generally accepted as his likeness. If so, he had a strong, 
 homely Dutch countenance, not unlike that of his illus- 
 trious son in later days. The expression is kindly and in- 
 telligent. It is the face of a shrewd, practical miller, who 
 will provide well for his family and do his duty in his 
 unpretentious sphere. No doubt because of his residence 
 beside one of the arms of the great river, he added to his 
 name the words "van Ryn," or "van Rijn," "of the 
 Rhine," and this his illustrious son retained. The home of 
 Harmen has long since passed away. It was No. 3 Wed- 
 desteeg. Even the street has ceased to exist, and where 
 it once ran there now stands the Naval School. 
 
 From the number of portraits of her that he has left, 
 and the fact that he named all three of his daughters for 
 her, we know that Rembrandt's mother must have been 
 very dear to him. Her name was Neeltge Willemsdochter. 
 Neeltge is Dutch for Cornelia. She was the daughter of 
 ,a baker. She must have been very religious, for Rem- 
 brandt represents her almost always with the Bible in her 
 hand or lying close beside her. She was, like her fellow- 
 townsmen generally, a Calvinist, and in all probability the 
 Bible was her only book. Her features were the homely 
 features of the middle and lower classes of her people; 
 but she also possessed their sterling virtues. At her 
 knees Rembrandt acquired that knowledge of the Scrip- 
 tures, which he was afterward to illustrate so fully in the 
 homely Dutch fashion, and with so poignant a realization 
 of its central tragedy. 
 
 Of Rembrandt's childhood we know nothing. Reared 
 up close beside the ramparts, he no doubt wandered much 
 in the country, imbibing in these early days that love of 
 nature that was to bear such precious fruit in the years 
 
3o8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 to come. When of sufficient age he was entered in the 
 Latin class at the University; but he had no taste for 
 books, either at that time or later on. He was a poor 
 scholar, and at the age of fifteen his parents realized that 
 his vocation for art was irresistible. Leyden, rich in 
 philosophy and learning, was poor in art. So the boy was 
 confided to Jacob van Schwanenburch, an aristocrat and a 
 gentleman, who was much esteemed by his fellow citizens, 
 though worse than indifferent as a painter. Yet for one 
 of Rembrandt's originality he was perhaps the best of 
 teachers. He could show the boy how to mix paint and 
 to apply it to canvas. All else the pupil could do unaided. 
 An abler master might have prevented Rembrandt in some 
 measure from taking that intensely personal view of nature 
 that lifts him to a foremost place among the greatest mas- 
 ters. He was apprenticed to Schwanenburch in 1620 or 
 1621, and remained with him the usual period of three 
 years. 
 
 Before the end of his apprenticeship he must have real- 
 ized the incapacity of his master, and he resolved to seek 
 further instruction in Amsterdam. Peter Lastman was 
 then in high renown at the metropolis. He had studied 
 in Italy, and he painted in the Italian style. He had lost 
 Dutch sincerity and love of truth without acquiring the 
 grace and beauty of the South. The youth soon per- 
 ceived the worthlessness of Lastman's teaching, the artifi- 
 ciality of his style, and in six months he was back in Ley- 
 den, determined to take Nature alone as his master, and to 
 work out his own salvation in his own way. 
 
 There was no art school at Leyden, and no hired models 
 were to be had. If there had been models to hire the boy 
 would have had no funds to procure their services. So he 
 took his family for models, and above all his own face; 
 beginning that series of portraits of himself which is with- 
 out example in the history of. art. Having no other op- 
 
REMBRANDT 309 
 
 portunity to study the expression of the emotions or the 
 splendor of costume among his sober, self-contained peo- 
 ple clothed in their somber habiliments, he drew himself 
 with every expression that he could make his face assume 
 and in all the fine raiment and armor that he could lay 
 hands upon. Often it is apparent that the emotion is only 
 feigned, as was inevitable under such circumstances; but 
 still he acquired in this way an extraordinary proficiency 
 in the expression of the passions. Houbraken says of him 
 that " he never left his work in his father's house as long 
 as daylight lasted " ; and his studies of artificial light show 
 that he carried his labors far into the night. 
 
 His first pictures are dated 1627, when he was twenty- 
 one years of age. They are St. Paul in Prison at Stutt- 
 gart and the Money Changer at Berlin. As might be ex- 
 pected, they are mediocre works; but they already reveal 
 that preoccupation with problems of light and shade that 
 was to result in his greatest triumphs. 
 
 It was not until 1629 that he painted a really fine pic- 
 ture — the portrait supposed to be of himself at The Hague. 
 He was then twenty-three. It is a charming face of a 
 beardless young man, sensitive, intelligent, the face of an 
 artist. If it be really the painter himself, his rather rugged, 
 plebeian features have been considerably softened. 
 
 Already in 1628 he had begun that wonderful series of 
 etchings, which have given him the first place among the 
 masters of the burin, excelling all others in precision and 
 delicacy of line, in the sense of light and shade and in the 
 expression of values. His first subjects were his own 
 face and the face of his beloved mother. Being a model 
 always at his command and costing nothing, it was his own 
 countenance that he most frequently reproduced. Before 
 he was twenty-five he had already etched his own likeness 
 more than twenty times, with a great variety of expres- 
 sions and of head-dresses, sometimes as a grandee, some- 
 
3IO THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 times as a soldier, sometimes in Oriental garb, in anger, in 
 terror, in supplication, in evei;y emotion that he could con- 
 jure up. He etched everything that came to hand. The 
 long wars had left many cripples and beggars, and these 
 Were favorite subjects. He preferred characters of an 
 humble type, the lame, the blind, the necessitous, the 
 peasant, and he presents them with all their infirmities, but 
 with sympathy and kindness. Some of these early etch- 
 ings reveal scenes of a vulgarity that only his plebeian 
 origin can explain, and which remind one of the unseemly 
 jokes to which the great sad soul of Lincoln would at 
 times descend. 
 
 There were good opportunities in Leyden for studying 
 the technique of this part of his craft. Lucas van Leyden 
 had been a great engraver, and his works were no doubt 
 still to be found in his native city. The Elzevirs had to 
 maintain engiravers for the illustration of their books. 
 None of these were great masters, but they could teach 
 the technical methods, and that was all that a youth of 
 Rembrandt's genius reiquired. Show him the mechanical 
 trick, and he would infuse into it life and soul and emo- 
 tional power. 
 
 At this time Rembrandt was much encouraged in his 
 work by the companionship of a youth of his own age 
 named Lievens, who was to become an artist of some dis- 
 tinction, and who in these early days was perhaps superior 
 in technical skill to the man of genius. Of the two young 
 men Huygens writes: 
 
 " One of these two youths is the son of a mere artisan, an 
 embroiderer of hangings ; the other is the son of a miller, but 
 made of other flour than his father. Such parentage makes 
 their intelligence and talent seem indeed prodigious. Their 
 masters were obscure and mediocre artists, for the modest means 
 of their parents could afford them no better instruction. 
 They have become what they are by sheer force of genius, and 
 
REMBRANDT 311 
 
 I am persuaded that had they been left entirely to themselves, 
 they would have attained the same excellence to which their 
 masters are now mistakably supposed to have Contributed. 
 The elder of these two young men, the son of the embroiderer, 
 is called Lievens ; the miller's son, Rembrandt. Both are beard- 
 less, and judging from their youthful faces and figures, are 
 rather boys than men. Rembrandt is Lievens' superior in in- 
 telligence and observation; whil'fe Lievens surpasses his com- 
 panion in nobility of treatment and grandeur of form. Dwell- 
 ing perpetually, in his youthful ardor, on the sublime and mag- 
 nificent, he is not content with actual dimensions, and attempts 
 the colossal. Rembrandt, on the contrary, by pure force of 
 talent, achieves a concentration in the more restricted field he 
 chooses, such as we shall seek in vain in his confrere's grandiose 
 compositions. I need cite nothing further in proof of my 
 statement than his picture of Judas Returning the Price of the 
 Betrayal to the High Priest. The central figure of Judas, be- 
 side himself, bewailing his crime, imploring the pardon he 
 dares not hope for; his face a vision of horror, his hair in 
 wild disorder, his clothes rent, his arms contorted, his hands 
 pressed fiercely together; prostrate on his knees, his whole 
 body seems ravaged and convulsed by his hideous despair." 
 
 Thus early had Rembrandt attained his mastery of emo- 
 tional expression. Fortunately M. Michel has discovered 
 this picture in the collection of M. Haro. 
 
 Rembrandt, who was to be so passionate a collector of 
 far-sought and.iFtistic things as to wreck his fortunes in 
 their acquisition, began early the purchase of Oriental 
 fabrics. In these he would dress his father, his mother, 
 his sister or himself, and would paint or etch the subject 
 as an Oriental magnate. It is needless to say that there was 
 slight harmony between the homely Dutch features and the 
 exotic raiment ; but it gave the young man an opportunity 
 to study draperies and the splendor of color that his soul 
 yearned for in his somber land. 
 
 The first pupil that came to Rembrandt was, strange to 
 
312 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 say, Gerard Dou, of all contemporaries the one who was 
 perhaps least influenced by the master's style. Every day 
 the divergence between them grew, Rembrandt becoming 
 ever broader in technique and more powerful in concep- 
 tion, Dou more minute in finish, more circumscribed in vi- 
 sion. Still, in these early days when the boy was pupil to 
 the youth, the essential incompatibility of their point of view 
 had not fully developed. Dou came to - Rembrandt in 
 1628, and remained with him until the master's removal 
 to Amsterdam three years later. 
 
 On April 27, 1630, Rembrandt's father died. No rec- 
 ord is preserved of the young man's feelings at the time; 
 but his nature was so, Ipying and his attachment to those 
 abo ut l^im~so ^strong that we know that the death of the 
 worthy miller must have brought a profound sorrow. 
 
 By 1 63 1, when he was twenty-five years old, Rembrandt 
 had ceased his gropings and had found the road that was 
 to lead him to a glorious immortality. In the Presentation 
 in the Temple, now at The Hague, there shines that " light 
 that never was on sea or land"; a light \which does not, 
 like the light of nature, merely dispel and annihilate dark- 
 ness, but which coexists with it, penetrates it, suffuses it, 
 leaving it darkness still, but a darkness filled with a magical 
 illumination. In later days his shadows were to be still 
 more luminous; but here they are filling the vaults of this 
 vast medieval temple with the spell of their mystery, while 
 the sun's rays, splendid but soft, fall upon the central 
 group, lighting up the gorgeous robes of the high priest 
 and his venerable face, turned to heaven in an ecstasy 
 of joy and faith. In this picture is already revealed the 
 supreme power of Rembrandt, the power to transfigure 
 homely things by the light that falls upon them, the lumi- 
 nous gloom that encircles them and the radiance that shines 
 from within. 
 
 Here, too, is shown his method of dealing with the 
 
REMBRANDT 313 
 
 Scriptural story, whose illustration was to be his greatest 
 life-work. He does not idealize it, like the Italians, repre- 
 senting it as a thing of beauty and dignity. He never left 
 Holland, and he knew nothing of the glory of the South, 
 the beauty of Southern women, the grace of Southern men. 
 For him there was no world save his native land, with its 
 homely scenes and still homelier people. He accepted that 
 world, and into its homely language he was content to 
 translate the sacred story; trusting, and trusting wisely, 
 to his ability to transfigure it all by the magic of light and 
 the power of holiness. The Italians had"^ painted the 
 Scriptural scenes beautifully, partly because they were a 
 handsome race and had many beautiful models at their 
 command, partly because their pictures were for the adorn- 
 ment of beautiful churches. Rembrandt painted them in 
 homely fashion because his models were homely and be- 
 cause the pictures were not for the adornment of religious 
 edifices, but to be hung in Calvinistic homes where the 
 glory of this world was looked upon as sinful, and where 
 men in the intensity of their religious faith thought of the 
 Scriptural events as if occurring in their midst. It was not 
 like the pictures which are now painted as if Christ were 
 living in modern days. The painters know that that is 
 not true; and so in their presentation there is something 
 theatrical and insincere. For Rembrandt, however, his 
 own world was the only one that he knew. He was no 
 scholar; he had never traveled. And so, when he trans- 
 lated the Bible history into terms of Dutch art, he was 
 true to nature and to his own conception; and his homely 
 faces are irradiated with the light of faith. 
 
 Such is the spirit that rules in the Holy Family at Mu- 
 nich, painted during this same year. It is only the house- 
 hold of an honest Dutch carpenter, with his young wife 
 and child, clothed in the humble garb of their class and in 
 their modest surroundings; but with what transfiguring 
 
314 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 love do they look on the divine infant! His choice of a 
 subject that must have seemed Romanish to the strict Prot- 
 estantism of Leyden shows the independence of his spirit 
 even in these early days. It is a large and important 
 work, with figures of almost life size, an astonishing pic- 
 ture for so young a man. It presents no signs of imma- 
 turity. The Madonna is almost beautiful in her mother 
 love, while the reverence of Joseph for the divine child 
 is admirably rendered. 
 
 These pictures and others like them had established 
 Rembrandt's position; and his etchings, borne upon the 
 wings of the wind, had carried his fame in every direc- 
 tion, so that Amsterdam held out its arms to him. 
 
 Then, as now, Amsterdam was the great commercial 
 mart of the country. The victory Over Spain had given 
 the Dutch confidence in themselves. Half the world's 
 mercantile marine belonged to them. Their fleets sailed 
 every sea, bringing the tribute of every land. The 
 liberty of conscience that they had accorded attracted to 
 their shores from the surrounding countries where perse- 
 cution raged the most enterprising and determined spirits. 
 Four hundred Jewish families, mostly from Portugal, had 
 settled in Amsterdam, bringing the secrets of Portuguese 
 trade ; living as a race apart in their own quarter, but con- 
 fined to no Ghetto, and on kindly terms with their neigh- 
 bors. Their most distinguished Rabbi, the learned and 
 virtuous Menasseh Ben Israel, was to become one of Rem- 
 brandt's closest friends. 
 
 Sir Thomas Overbury, who visited Amsterdam in 1609, 
 says that it surpassed Seville, Lisbon or any other mart 
 town in Christendom, while Evelyn says in his diary in 
 1641 that " it is certainly the most busie concourse of 
 mortalls now upon the whole earth, and the most addicted 
 to com'erce." Its fherchant princes, proud of their 
 achievements and conscious of their own importance, de- 
 
REMBRANDT 315 
 
 sired that their portraits should be painted, in order that 
 their walls might be adorned by the features of the master 
 of the house and their likeness transmitted to an admiring 
 posterity. A thoroughly domestic people, loving their own 
 hearths with passionate fervor, they wished also the por- 
 traits of their wives and children. So, the opportunities 
 of the portrait painter were immense, and painting be- 
 came the one really vital art of the Dutch people. 
 
 For some time before his removal to Amsterdam in 
 1631, the Metropolis had been calling to Rembrandt. His 
 fame as a portrait painter had reached the great city, and 
 he had made many trips thither to limn its worthy burgh- 
 ers. Everything conspired to draw the young riian thither. 
 Leyden, like most university towns, was not an art center. 
 Learning and philosophy, the dead past and the realm of 
 ideas, ruled the scene, and the eminent jurists and 
 scholars that adorned the university cared little for the 
 pictorial presentation of the every day world about them ; 
 nor did they have the means suitably to reward the artist. 
 At Amsterdam, on ihe other hand, wealth was overflow- 
 ing, and its princely merchants lived in the present.. Pos- 
 sessed of handsome homes adorned with far-sought riches 
 brought from Java and Cathay, they wished them orna- 
 mented by suitable paintings. The more cultivated of 
 them, who had traveled in Italy, preferred the Italian 
 style, and either bought pictures by the masters beyond 
 the Alps or favored those of the Dutch painters who had 
 studied in the South. Many of them, however, remained 
 thoroughly Dutch, and preferred the homely scenes of 
 their own land and an art, like Rembrandt's, that was true 
 to the soil whence it sprang. 
 
 At Amsterdam, too, the artists were gathered, as they 
 are now gathered in London, Paris or New York ; and here 
 the young man could find a congenial art atmosphere, where 
 the problems with which he was confronted would be in- 
 
3i6 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 telligently discussed. It is true that Rembrandt, so origi- 
 nal and self-centered, was little in need of external inspira- 
 tion and little susceptible to external impressions ; yet even 
 he must have preferred the society of artists to that of 
 the jurists and theologians who ruled in Leyden; while the 
 rich fabrics, the splendid armor and jewels and the many 
 curiosities brought from distant lands delighted his artistic 
 vision. So, at some time in 1631, when twenty-live years 
 of age, Rembrandt removed to Amsterdam. It must have 
 b^en hard to leave the widowed mother whom he loved so 
 much and the brothers and sister who had been his child- 
 hood's playmates ; but the call of art, as usual, was not to 
 be resisted. 
 
 II 
 
 GOLDEN DAYS 
 
 On Rembrandt's previous trips to Amsterdam he had 
 probably got acquainted with Hendrick van Uylenborch, 
 the dealer in pictures and curios. At any rate, when he 
 reached the city he took up his abode with Hendrick, and 
 with that improvidence which was to prove his ruin, he 
 proceeded forthwith on June 30, 1631, to lend his host a. 
 thousand florins — probably his little all — without se- 
 curity, a loan that was never to be repaid. The young 
 artist needed, however, a commodious studio, so he soon 
 found a home on the Bloemgracht. , 
 
 His services were in immediate demand. In 1632 he 
 painted ten portraits that have come down to us, and dur- 
 ing the four succeeding years he painted a hundred and 
 two. These, in addition to his numerous etchings and 
 pictorial compositions, make a total achievement that re- 
 veals the most tireless industry, and shows that the de- 
 
REMBRANDT 317 
 
 mand for his services was as great as human capacity 
 could satisfy. He was the fashionable portrait painter of 
 the day, and every worthy burgher desired that he and 
 his faithful vrouw should be immortalized by Rembrandt's 
 brush. His studio was thronged with the elite of the city, 
 and, as Houbraken said, men had not only to pay, but 
 to pray, to get their portraits painted. Now he had to re- 
 strain his exuberance. In the portraits of himself and 
 family that he had made at Leyden he had used the sub- 
 jects rather as a study in color, light and draperies, cloth- 
 ing them fantastically in rich vestments. Here he had 
 to depict the proud burghers exactly as they were, in their 
 plain and Puritanical garb; and for some years he was 
 able to curb his genius to the gait demanded by his pa- 
 trons. 
 
 He not only painted the faces of his sitters, he revealed 
 their inmost nature. He perceived that only the eyes and 
 the mouth tell the story of the soul. Other features na- 
 ture constructs; but from the windows of the eyes the 
 sOul looks out, and about the mouth there gather the lines 
 that character has etched. These Rembrandt studied, and 
 with their aid he lets us into the man's secret heart. He 
 is above all the painter of the eyes." Such tell-tale eyes no 
 one else has ever painted. In their depths the soul of the 
 man is written. 
 
 With all his supreme genius he rarely had any sense of; 
 the beauty of form. Truth transfigured by light was all in 
 all for him. This singular blindness to beauty of form is 
 revealed in many etchings that he .made shortly after set- 
 tling in Amsterdam. He gives us a number of nudes 
 which are perhaps the most repulsive in the realm of art, 
 Diana Bathing, Potiphar's Wife and the like, for which he 
 has found a model in some 'misshapen kitchen wench whose 
 plebeian ugliness he has transferred to the plate without the 
 slightest attempt at idealization. 
 
3i8 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 / The year after his removal to Amsterdam he painted 
 'a great masterpiece that constitutes a mile-stone on his 
 career — the Anatomy Lesson at The Hague. 
 
 It was by no means the first picture of its kind. Since 
 the day in 1555 when Philip H had reluctantly consented 
 to the dissection of the human body, the study of anatomy 
 had been pursued in Holland with the greatest ardor. In 
 the principal cities " Theaters of Anatomy " were erected, a 
 table in the center for the cadaver, with benches rising in 
 tiers around it. Beside the body stood the demonstrator. 
 ,Upon the lower seats sat the doctors and students, while 
 the higher were filled with spectators drawn by the same 
 morbid curiosity that brought such crowds to the Parisian 
 Morgue until it was closed to the public. These scenes 
 were too peculiar to escape the Dutch painters. They 
 had represented them with all the repulsiveness of disem- 
 boweled and decaying bodies, while the persons look 
 straight out of the canvas, sitting for their portraits and 
 taking no interest in the work in hand. 
 
 When the great doctor whom we know as Tulp on ac- 
 count of the tulip sculptured on the front of his house 
 ordered of his young friend a picture to be hung in the 
 Surgeons' Hall, he no doubt expected something of the 
 kind. But Rembrandt was determined to produce a work 
 worthy of such a man — a man of vast learning, of infinite 
 charity, four times burgomaster of his city, who lived up 
 to the noble maxim inscribed on one of his portraits — 
 aliis inserviendo consumer. In his picture the " Theater of 
 Anatomy " with its crowd of idle spectators vanishes. We 
 have the corpse upon the table, rigid in death, its marble 
 whiteness lighting up the center of the composition. At 
 its farther side stands Tulp, with his handsome, earnest 
 and thoughtful face. Only the left hand and forearm of 
 the corpse have been dissected, so that no horrors are de- 
 picted. Around the body are gathered the seven directors 
 
REMBRANDT 319 
 
 of the Amsterdam Guild of Surgeons, men with faces as 
 inteUigent and as serious as Tulp's, all deeply interested in 
 his explanation, and with eyes fixed upon the dissected 
 arm, save two, who are looking out of the picture, as if 
 their attention had been for a moment distracted by the 
 entrance of another. Rembrandt was to do greater tilings 
 in the days to come; but it is a noble masterpiece, de- 
 spite the defective foreshortening of the corpse, and once 
 seen, it will never be forgotten. It at once placed the 
 young artist, then but twenty-six, in a position above all 
 rivals, and proclaimed him the foremost painter of Hol- 
 land. 
 
 It was a fortunate moment in the history of the country, 
 and the ideal time for Rembrandt to appear upon the 
 scene. The war with Spain was dragging on, but Hol- 
 land was victorious, and her fleets were on every sea. 
 William the Silent was dead, and his son Maurice, too, 
 was gone ; but the position of Stadholder was held by an- 
 other son, Frederick Henry, an enlightened patron of the 
 arts. Like most of his cultivated countrymen, he pre- 
 ferred Rubens, Van Dyck and the Italians to the native 
 school ; but he was too wise a ruler to neglect so important 
 a branch of his country's activity. The Anatomy Lesson 
 forced Rembrandt upon his attention, and by his command 
 the master painted for him five large compositions; the 
 Raising and the Descent from the Cross, the Entombment, 
 the Resurrection and the Ascension, all now at Munich. 
 Space permits us only to speak of the first and second of 
 these. They are the most important, though all possess 
 conspicuous merits. 
 
 Rembrandt had never traveled even as far as Antwerp. 
 Indeed, the brief journey from Leyden to Amsterdam, 
 with a rare excursion to a neighboring city, comprised all 
 his wanderings. He had never seen Rubens' great master- 
 pieces ; but he must have been familiar with them from the 
 
320 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 engravings that were scattered through the world. His 
 version of the Descent from the Cross is far less harmoni- 
 ous, far less beautiful. The dead Christ is a lifeless 
 cadaver without beauty of proportion; but the grief of the 
 disciples is poignant, and the men who lower the body do 
 so awkwardly yet reverently. But the great contrast with 
 Rubens' masterpiece is in the attitude of the rich man who 
 had offered the stone-cut sepulcher. In Rubens' picture he 
 assists reverently to lower the sacred form. In Rem- 
 brandt's he stands idly by, his feet far apart, utterly un- 
 moved, in all the pride of his wealth, looking on imperi- 
 ously while the labor that he has commanded is being done. 
 Probably Rembrandt's presentation of the sympathy of the 
 poor for the grief that is always close to them and the in- 
 difference of the rich is nearer the truth of nature. At 
 any rate, we see that it is as hard for such a rich man to 
 enter the kingdom of heaven as it is for a camel to pass 
 through the eye of a needle. 
 
 In the Raising of the Cross Rembrandt is worthy to be 
 compared to Rubens. He has adopted the same conception. 
 The cross, dragged heavily upward, cuts the picture di- 
 agonally in the same manner. There is the same sense of 
 straining, though not carried so far. But in this picture 
 Rembrandt surpasses himself in the handling of the human 
 form. The naked Christ is one of the most beautiful 
 figures in painting, perfect in its proportions as a Greek 
 god, and rendered with consummate skill. The face, full 
 of faith and anguish, ready for the great atonement and 
 yet overcome by the intolerable pain, is superb and very 
 handsome. Face and form alike seem borrowed from 
 some alien race of greater beauty and to have nothing in 
 common with the homely Dutch types that the master 
 ordinarily depicts. 
 
 The Anatomy Lesson brought Rembrandt so many com- 
 missions for portraits that for the next few years he had 
 
REMBRANDT 321 
 
 little time for anything save to reproduce the features of 
 his sitters and to paint the pictures ordered by the Stad- 
 holder. These portraits are so masterly that each is de- 
 serving of separate study ; but his activity was so great that 
 only the most notable can be mentioned in a sketch like 
 this. 
 
 Still in this year, 1632, he found time to paint the two! 
 very similar pictures, each called The Philosopher, in the| 
 Louvre, representing an aged man sitting at his desk in an 
 attitude of profound and somber meditation, w^hile the light 
 of the dying day falls upon him through the window and 
 fills the strange room with the luminous shadows that the 
 painter loved. 
 '~ His masterpiece in portraiture for the year 1633 was per- 1 
 haps the Shipbuilder and his Wife, of Buckingham Palace. \ 
 The aged shipbuilder is seated at a table drawing the hull 
 of a vessel, and looks up as his wife approaches and 
 hands him a letter. They are old, toil-worn and homely; 
 but in every line we read their perfect trust in one an- 
 other, the mutual love that has supported them in every 
 trial, and bound them closer together with the travail of 
 the years; and the light within makes their homely old 
 faces things of beauty. But even as we proclaim this his 
 masterpiece of that year, we think of the portraits of Jan 
 Pellicorne and his wife in the Wallace Collection, and we 
 hesitate to give even the Shipbuilder the preference over 
 these marvels of exquisite and perfect painting, where the 
 figures are so alive, so well realized, so enveloped in atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 It was in the^happy year of 1632 that Rembrandt first 
 met her who was for a short time to make his life so 
 happy — Saskia van Uylenborch. She was a cousin of 
 Hendrick of that name, the friend to whom Rembrandt 
 had lent the thousand florins the year before ; and although 
 the artist was never to get his money, he was compensated 
 
322 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 many times over by the introduction to the young girl who 
 was to be his wife. It was no doubt at Hendrick's house 
 that Rembrandt met her. 
 
 Her father, Rombertus, was a distinguished jurist of 
 Leeuwarden, the chief town of Friesland. Of a noble 
 and wealthy family, he had served his city as either echevin 
 or burgomaster for thirteen years. Born in 1612, she lost 
 her mother in 1619, and in 1624 her father passed away. 
 She had numerous brothers and sisters, who were estab- 
 lished in the world; and with these she lived. The male 
 portion of the family were engaged in bitter litigation over 
 the estate; but this did not disturb the concord between 
 the sisters. No doubt she was beautiful according to 
 Dutch standards ; but to us she seems not mbre than pass- 
 ably good looking. Her round and rather commonplace 
 features, inclining to a double chin, were, however, redeemed 
 by the brilliancy of her complexion, her light blonde hair, 
 the brightness of her small eyes, and the sweetness of her 
 expression. 
 
 Among her relatives was a cousin who was married to 
 Jan Cornells Sylvius, a Protestant minister at Amsterdam, 
 a man of high character, much honored by his fellow citi- 
 zens. It was while on a visit to his home that she met 
 Rembrandt. In 1632 he painted her portrait. Whether it 
 was a commission or a work of love we do not know; but 
 before the year was out he had painted her twice again, 
 which could only have been at the dictates of the heart. 
 We may therefore agree that if they did not love at first 
 sight, love grew up between them as the picture grew be- 
 neath the artist's brush. A note on a drawing in the Berlin 
 Gallery indicates, however, that the formal engagement did 
 not take place until the 8th of June of the following year. 
 There is a portrait of her by Rembrandt painted in that 
 year of 1633, holding in her hand a sprig of rosemary, the 
 
REMBRANDT 323 
 
 Dutch symbol of betrothal; and this confirms the evidence 
 of the note. 
 
 It was an advantageous match for both. A union with 
 a daughter of a noble house would raise the social position 
 of the miller's son, and the substantial inheritance that she 
 had received from her father would be a help to a young 
 artist; while, on the other hand, Rembrandt was then in 
 such high favor and earning such large sums that he was a 
 most desirable suitor. Though not handsome, with strongly 
 marked and somewhat plebeian features, his appearance 
 was attractive, and at this period' of his life he was careful 
 and even sumptuous in his dress. 
 
 The course of their true love ran smoothly enough; but 
 with a slowness that must have been exasperating to one 
 of Rembrandt's ardent temperament. Though no one op- 
 posed the wedding, for some unexplained reason it was 
 deemed best to defer it until after the bride should be of 
 age. In the autumn of 1633 Saskia was called away to 
 Franeker, where her aunt Antje died on November 9. 
 This further delayed the marriage. She returned to Am- 
 sterdam in the spring of 1634, and Rembrandt painted her 
 crowned with flowers in a picture at St. Petersburg, 
 strangely miscalled "The 'Jewish Bride, no doubt on account 
 of the rich robe that he had cast about her. More properly 
 it is called Flora. It was not until June 10, 1634, that 
 the contract was signed, Rembrandt obligating himself to 
 procure his mother's sanction and Sylvius agreeing to give 
 his formal assent before the third publication of the bans.j^ 
 All went well, and on the 22nd of June, 1634, the wedding" 
 took place in the town hall of Bildt in the presence of Sas- 
 kia's aunt and uncle, the Van Loos, the religious ceremony 
 following at the parish church, performed by the minister, 
 Rodolph Hermansz Luinga. It was probably in the year of 
 their marriage that Rembrandt painted the Saskia at Cas- 
 
324 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 sel, his most perfect portrait of her and one of the greatest 
 marvels of the brush in its rich color, exquisite finish and 
 complete realization. 
 
 * Rarely has there been a happier marriage. Rembrandt 
 was but twenty-six, yet already the foremost artist in a land 
 that was teeming with artists. His life had been sober, 
 abstemious and industrious. Houbraken says that when 
 at work he was content with a dried herring or a lump of 
 cheese. Pleasure, save the innocent joys of his home life, 
 he had hardly known, and the union with the woman he 
 loved opened up to him a new realm of happiness of which 
 he had scarcely dreamed. She on her part was a fresh 
 young girl of twenty-two, bright, gentle and very loving, 
 who adored her husband, in whose eyes she was surpassingly 
 beautiful. We know exactly how she looked, for Rem- 
 brandt was never content save in depicting her lineaments; 
 and with her amiable disposition she never wearied of pos- 
 ing as his model, sometimes in formal portraits, sometimes 
 as characters in sacred or profane history. We even know 
 how she appeared undraped; for there can be little doubt 
 that she was the model for the Dan'de of the Hermitage. 
 Her form is not surpassingly beautiful, but it is delicate 
 and fair to look upon, very different from the kitchen 
 wenches with whom Rembrandt had been compelled form- 
 erly to content himself in Puritan Holland. The artist, 
 while he wished to record and preserve his wife's beauty, 
 at least had the modesty not to sell the picture, which re- 
 mained in hts possession until his effects were seized in 
 bankruptcy. 
 
 The happiness of the young couple was unalloyed. Sim- 
 ple in their tastes, they lived for one another. The picture 
 at Dresden of Saskia seated on Rembrandt's knee while 
 he holds in his hand a long wineglass from which he has 
 been drinking to the point of exhilaration has given many 
 the idea that Rembrandt was a wassailer. Nothing could 
 
REMBRANDT 325 
 
 be further from the fact. He was abstemious and content 
 with innocent pleasures. He was no more a wine-bibber 
 than he was a soldier, an Oriental monarch, a lord of high 
 degree addicted to hawking, or any of the other characters 
 in which he used to pose before the mirror as he painted 
 his own portrait. The young couple lived much to them- 
 selves, content with one another's society, she sitting by his 
 side as he worked at the easel or serving him as model 
 if he so desired. Their short married Ufe seems to havfe 
 been one long honeymoon. She has been blamed for not 
 restraining his natural prodigality, but the reproach is 
 hardly just. He was hopelessly extravagant in the pur- 
 chase of jewels, of Oriental fabrics, of brocaded silks and 
 works of art ; but he no doubt persuaded her that they were 
 an admirable investment, which could be disposed of at an 
 enhanced price. Nor was there any visible occasion to 
 economize. Rembrandt was the most popular painter of 
 one of the richest cities in Europe. Everyone was clamor- 
 ing for a portrait by his hand. He was receiving from 500 
 to 600 florins for a portrait, and had more orders than he 
 could fill. Money was rolling in at a rate that exceeded 
 all their requirements ; and there was no indication that the 
 golden rain would cease. Rembrandt afterwards declared, 
 and the court found it to be true, that at the time of Sas- 
 kia's death they were worth 40,750 florins; which proves 
 that there was no wasting of their substance. Of his cir- 
 cumstances at this time Sandrart says : " His house at 
 Amsterdam was filled by numerous pupils from good fam- 
 ilies, -each of whom paid him annually as much as 100 
 florins, without reckoning the money brought in by their 
 paintings and engravings, which, apart from his personal 
 earnings, may be estimated at some 2,000 or 2,500 florins." 
 Moreover, there is nothing to show that Saskia ever 
 spent a florin unnecessarily, or that she could control her 
 husband's expenditures. In money matters Rembrandt was 
 
326 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 always a child. Whatever he wanted he had to have, and 
 he never stopped to count the cost. If he went to an auc- 
 tion sale, as he often did, he would not gradually advance 
 the price to meet the offers of other bidders, but would at 
 once bid what he thought the object was worth ; and if it 
 struck his fancy, that price was apt to be beyond the most 
 sanguine hopes of the seller. He loved not only pictures 
 and expensive embroidered silks from the Orient, but 
 jewels ; and the pearls that he purchased were magnificent. 
 He used them to adorn his beloved wife, and she wore 
 them gratefully; but there is nothing to indicate that he 
 bought them at her suggestion, or that she would not have 
 been just as happy without them. In fact, no stain rests 
 on Saskia's memory. She seems to have been a sweet, 
 gentle and loving wife, who made her husband supremely 
 happy during the few years that she dwelt by his side ; years 
 which were rich in splendid works whose number and ex- 
 cellence prove that Rembrandt was spending his days in 
 labor, and that he found in his home the peace and joy that 
 strengthened him for his work. It must be remembered, 
 too, that she was an heiress, and brought him a considerable 
 estate. 
 
 In December, 1635, Saskia bore Rembrandt a son, who 
 was christened Rombertus after her father. Rembrandt 
 was delighted with the little fellow, and made many 
 sketches of him and his mother, characterized by his usual 
 realism. To us it is only a funny little Dutch baby; but 
 we may be sure that it was very dear to the parents, both 
 of whom were by nature singularly loving. Unhappily, 
 Death, who was to pursue Rembrandt so relentlessly until 
 the end, overtook the infant in a few months. 
 
 Before his marriage Rembrandt had moved from the 
 Bloemgracht to St. Antonies Breestraat close to the Nieuwe 
 Markt. In 1636 he moved to the Nieuwe Doelstraat, no 
 doubt to a larger and handsomer apartment, which he filled 
 
REMBRANDT 327 
 
 1 
 
 with works of art, elegant furniture and hangings and 
 all sorts of curios. Here he and Saskia hved a joyous life, 
 the center of a circle of admiring friends. Besides the 
 jeweler Jan Lutman and the vain but excellent writing- 
 master Coppenol, there were in the circle several ministers 
 of the Gospel, art dealers and physicians, besides a number 
 of painters. These were almost all painters of landscape. 
 The choice is significant. In portraiture Rembrandt justly 
 felt that none of his contemporaries could instruct him. 
 In landscape, however, in which he was afterwards to do 
 such splendid work, he had as yet done scarcely anything; 
 and it was natural that he should seek those who practised 
 that branch of the art. Their talk was not shop to him. 
 A little later, certainly by 1641, their circle was joined by 
 Jan Six, a man of great virtues and accomplishments, after- 
 wards burgomaster of the city. 
 
 We read of only one unpleasant event in these early 
 married years. Saskia's brothers, jealous of the sumptu- 
 ous mode of life led by their sister and her husband, 
 charged her with dissipating her inheritance in dress and 
 ostentation. Rembrandt, rushing to the defense of her he 
 loved so much, brought suit against them for slander, al- 
 leging that he and his wife were " amply, even super- 
 abundantly provided for." The proceeding dragged along 
 until 1638, when the court held that the words were not 
 actionable, and dismissed the suit' without an investigation 
 of the facts. 
 
 In that year we find him established in another house 
 called the Snijkerbackerij on the Binnen Amstel, where on- 
 July I a second child was born, a daughter, who on July 
 22 was christened at the Oude Kerk by the name of Cor- 
 nelia, in memory of Rembrandt's mother. Like almost 
 everything the master loved, she was short lived, and in a 
 month she had passed away. 
 
 On January 5, 1639, Rembrandt purchased a house in the 
 
328 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Joden Breestraat, now No. 68. For this he agreed to pay 
 thirteen thousand florins. He paid one-half the sum shortly 
 afterward, and by May he had taken possession. It was 
 the first home of his own that he had ever had, and we ma^ 
 be sure that the devoted young couple were both proud 
 and happy in their new dignity as householders. It was 
 in "the very heart of the Jewish quarter, so that the master 
 easily found those Hebrew models which he loved 'to use 
 in illustrating the Bible story. Unhappily, with his usual 
 thriftlessness, instead of paying the balance due on the 
 house he spent his money in adding to his collections or in 
 entertaining his friends. 
 
 On July 29, 1640, Saskia bore him another daughter, and 
 to her he also gave his mother's name of Cornelia; but 
 this child also died within a month. Only their deep mu- 
 tual love could have sustained Rembrandt and his wife un- 
 der such repeated blows. That he was profoundly sad- 
 dened is revealed in the cast of many of his works of this 
 time. 
 
 .- In September or October of 1640 a still greater sorrow 
 came to afflict Rembrandt. The mother whom he had 
 loved so devotedly passed away. It was indeed a hard 
 blow to him. There was never a more affectionate son. 
 The various portraits of his mother that he painted after 
 his removal to Amsterdam prove that either he made 
 numerous trips to Leyden to see her, or else she was a 
 frequent visitor in his city home. 
 
 Of these portraits the most striking is the one at Vienna, 
 showing her in extreme old* age, her face like wrinkled 
 parchment, her teeth gone, so that the cheeks sink in, yet 
 the eyes still alert and kindly. One can see that the pic- 
 ture was painted with infinite love, and that every line in 
 that withered countenance was dear to him who held the 
 brush. 
 
REMBRANDT 329 
 
 After his mother's death Rembrandt's share of his 
 father's estate was 2,490 florins, with 1,600 florins still to 
 be divided. For his share Rembrandt took a mortgage on 
 the mill, giving his brother a long time to pay it out. ;He 
 at once sold the mortgage, and for this he has been blamed 
 as inconsistent with his generosity in granting the long in- 
 dulgence. It is hard to see the justice of this. The as- 
 signee of the mortgage could not shorten the time granted, 
 and while Rembrandt got the money he wanted, no doubt 
 at a considerable discount, his brother still enjoyed the de- 
 lay in payment that he had craved. 
 
 The ten years from 1632 to 1642 were Rembrandt's 
 golden years. Sorrows indeed came to him, and also joys 
 in overflowing measure. This was the period of his brief 
 popularity. He was now painting pictures that his country- 
 men could understand and appreciate. He was not yet the 
 mystic poet who dwelt in a magic realm of luminous 
 shadows. Light and shade were there, but they were sub- 
 ordinate to form. He painted like other Dutchmen, only 
 better, with a richer fusing of colors, a mellower touch, 
 greater skill in the presentation of form, a more delightful 
 illumination, and, above all, a deeper insight into character. 
 The work of his later days, when he had become a poet and 
 a dreamer, when^ight had grown to be the object of his 
 idolatry, and its eternal battle with darkness the theme of 
 all his efforts, when he had taught darkness and light to 
 dwell together in a way unknown to this work-a-day world, 
 but which is infinitely precious — these later works appeal 
 to us now with a more comjfelling charnv But with his 
 'hard-headed,, practical Dutch contemporaries, who wished 
 no nonsense, but wanted to see their own lineaments and 
 those of their families protrayed exactly as they were, these 
 earlier works were precisely the thing desired. We cannot 
 blame them for delighting in such marvels of the painter's 
 
330 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 art — portraits which are among the greatest that have ever 
 been made, — though we may regret their inability to follow 
 his genius in its later flights. 
 
 He also etched a great many portraits, and these are the 
 best of the kind that were ever made. In those days, when 
 there were no photographs, anyone who wished to multiply 
 his likeness for his friends and relatives had recourse to 
 the etcher or engraver. The portraits which Rembrandt 
 etched surpass all others in delicacy and precision of line 
 and particularly in the revelation of character. 
 
 It is not surprising that his studio was thronged with 
 pupils. Many of the greatest names in Dutch art are found 
 among them — Govert Flink, Ferdinand Bol, Geerbrandt 
 van den Eeckhout, Jan Victors, Philips de Koninck, Leen- 
 deert Cornelisz and others. By the custom of the time the 
 work of the pupils belonged to the master, and he was en- 
 titled to send it out into the world under his own signature, 
 if he saw fit. Rembrandt's art, however, was so purely 
 personal that his scholars could lend him little assistance. 
 Some of the replicas of his pictures may bear traces of 
 their brushwork, but the originals seem to have been by 
 the master's hand alone. Even in his etchings, owing to 
 his practice of drawing directly on the plate, they could 
 give him little help. 
 
 Rembrandt adopted a peculiar system in dealing with his 
 pupils. His studio was divided by partitions, so that each 
 disciple worked alone. He thus sought both to secure con- 
 centration on their task and originality of presentation. 
 He had learned the necessity of this from experience. He 
 threw his whole soul into his work, and undisturbed soli- 
 tude was an indispensable condition of his success. 
 
 In the meantime, though overwhelmed with orders for 
 portraits, Rembrandt found time for other creations. The 
 year 1634 was perhaps the busiest of his life. Yet he 
 managed to indulge his fortunate mania for painting 
 
REMBRANDT 331 
 
 himself. No less than seven portraits of himself painted: 
 in that year have come down to us, besides several' 
 of Saskia. His own features are so marked that it is not 
 hard to recognize him, even when he takes considerable 
 liberties with the truth; though it is hard to see how any- 
 body can find in the truculent soldier of the Hermitage, 
 miscalled Sobieski, any resemblance to the painter, as some 
 have done. When, however, we come to Saskia it is diflfer- 
 ent. There are many pictures that bear a certain resem- 
 blance to her, and yet are not accurate likenesses. Per- 
 haps Rembrandt used her only as a study, and varied her 
 features at pleasure. Perhaps they were engraved so 
 deeply in his heart that faces of other models assumed her 
 semblance. At any rate, there are a number of pictures, 
 like the splendid Jewish Bride of the Liechtenstein Gallery 
 and the still more splendid Artemisia of the Prado, in which j. 
 some see Saskia's features while others can trace no resem- 
 blance. The latter picture is by some called Cleopatra. 
 Most likely it was intended for some character in Scripture, 
 as Rembrandt rarely turned to profane history for his sub- 
 jects.. 
 
 In his love for realism Rembrandt liked to secure Jews ' 
 for models of his Biblical pictures, dressing them up in the 
 gorgeous costumes of his studio. - Yet he cared nothing for 
 archeological accuracy, and would clothe his characters in 
 any ■ garb that suited his ideas of the picturesque. The 
 centurion who superintends the Elevation of the Cross 
 wears a Turkish turban, and in Samson's girdle is a Javan- 
 ese kris. He sought only for pictorial effect. He de- 
 lighted in gorgeous fabrics, in splendid armor, in magnifi- 
 cent jewels, and he put them in wherever he thought they 
 would enrich the picture. 
 
 It was in 1635 that he painted the Sacrifice of Isaac at 
 Munich. The figures are life-sized and admirably rendered. ', 
 He has, as usual, chosen the moment when at the voice of 
 
332 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 the angel Abraham drops the knife that he is about to 
 plunge into his son's throat. But he does something which 
 no one else would have done — Abraham CQvers Isaac's 
 face with his hand, well knowing that he eould not slay his 
 child if he looked into his eyes. 
 
 This year also witnessed the most grotesque of all Rem- 
 brandt's failures in dealing with the antique — the Gany- 
 ; mede at Dresden. The master had no capacity of idealiza- 
 tion. He could transfigure the homeliest things, bathing 
 them in marvelous light that converts them into objects of 
 rarest beauty ; but he could not give them a form of grace 
 that they did not possess. Nor, indeed, did he ever seek 
 to do so. The actual was good enough for him, and his 
 aim was to prove that the magic, of art can transmute the 
 commonest things into gems. And so, his attempts to deal 
 with classical mythology are always failures and almost al- 
 ways ludicrous. But never was he so ill advised as in the 
 painting of this unhappy Ganymede. An ugly Dutch boy 
 of about seven years of age has been seized by an eagle, 
 and is being borne aloft by the tail of his shirt, while he 
 bawls in ridiculous terror. A picture more hopelessly 
 vulgar was never conceived. Its execution is of course 
 magnificent ; but in conception it is perhaps the lowest point 
 to which a capable artist ever sank. It looks like a coarse 
 joke ; but there is no reason to doubt that Rembrandt meant 
 it seriously. We do not mean that, he did not see the 
 humor of- the situation. No doubt it seemed to him much 
 more humorous than it does to us. The trouble is that he 
 really conceived the event as occurring thus. As he con- 
 ceived the Scripture story as taking place in the Holland of 
 his time, so he conceived the Grecian myths, and he en- 
 deavored to realize what would happen to a scantily clad 
 Dutch boy when carried off by an eagle. In all likelihood 
 he actually hung a boy up by his shirt with his rear to the 
 
REMBRANDT 333 
 
 spectator, and painted him from the life while he howled. 
 
 The reason why his homely treatment of Bible stories f 
 is so effective and his like treatment of classic themes so/ 
 grotesquely unsuccessful is easy to understand. Tlje pathos 
 of sorrow, the beauty of the soul's aspirations are height- 
 ened rather than diminished by showing them in homely 
 faces and surroundings. That we should find nobility and 
 delicacy of ieeling in such humble countenances adds the 
 force of a surprise, and makes us realize all the more 
 strongly the brotherhood of man and the purity of faith. 
 We realize that in a peasant's hut and beneath his toarse 
 lineaments there may be a heart as noble as ever dwelt in 
 princely bosom. It draws us closer to our fellow beings, 
 while we realize all the more the transfiguring power of 
 goodness. But the ancient myths are inseparably asso- 
 ciated with physical beauty. Rob them of that, and they 
 become grotesque. 
 
 Fortunately, however, such mistakes are rare, and usu- 
 ally Rembrandt devotes himself to his great mission of re- 
 vealing the beauty that lies in homely things, the poetry 
 and the pathos that may be written on homely faces. 
 Sometimes he presents us an able but unattractive picture,! 
 like the wonderful Samson Threatening his Father-in-law] 
 at Berlin, one of his most perfect works; but more fre- 
 quently he gives us an admirable creation like the Angel 
 Raphael leaving Tobias, now in the Louvre, where the pro- 
 found reverence of the elder couple who dare not raise their 
 faces to their celestial visitant, is so happily contrasted with 
 the greater courage of the youthful pair, whose eyes follow 
 their benefactor in his flight. Here, as usual, it is in the 
 ideal portion that the master is weak. The human beingsj 
 are wholly admirable ; but the angel lacks both beauty and 
 grace, and his legs outstretched toward the spectator are 
 those of a homely Dutch youth. His flight, too, has been 
 
334 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 studied from that of a large bird that beats its way heavily 
 upward, and has none of the grace of a celestial being 
 sweeping through space on extended pinions. 
 
 The angel of Manoah's Sacrifice at Dresden is far more 
 grotesque ; but Manoah and his wife in their united prayer 
 are amongst the finest and most moving creations of the 
 master's genius. 
 
 The year 1642 was the tragic beginning of Rembrandt's 
 long sorrow. Early in that year he finished his great mas- 
 terpiece the Night Watch, which destroyed his popularity, 
 and before the year was out Saskia was dead. 
 
 In September, 1641, she bore a son who was called 
 Titus, after Saskia's sister, Titia, who had died three 
 months before. The infant was christened on September 
 22, 1641, in the Zuider Kerk. It is probable from her 
 etched portraits that Saskia, who had never been strong, 
 was ailing at the time. The birth of three children and 
 the sorrow for their loss had undermined her frail con- 
 stitution. She does not seem to have rallied after Titus' 
 birth, but lingered on in delicate health until June 5, 1642, 
 when she made her will. The wavering, uncertain signa- 
 ture tells how weak she was. The terms of the testament . 
 show a confidence in Rembrandt's business ability which 
 was wholly undeserved. Evidently love blinded her eyes 
 to his incapacity. She left to him her entire estate, to be 
 administered without accountability, expressing the belief 
 that he would know Tjest what should be done for their 
 infant son. The only restriction was that if he should 
 marry again, one-half the estate should be set aside in trust 
 for Titus. Within a fortnight her gentle spirit had passed 
 away, leaving Rembrandt, then only thirty-six, a broken- 
 hearted man with a sickly infant, nine months of age. On 
 June 19, she was buried in the Oude Kerk, and Rembrandt 
 bought the spot where her body lay, that she might rest in 
 
REMBRANDT 335 
 
 peace forever. How strangely he afterward acted in the 
 matter we shall see later. 
 
 Ill 
 
 DEEPENING SHADOWS 
 
 We know by the diminishing number of portraits that' 
 Rembrandt's popularity had greatly declined before Sas- 
 kia's death. As he nearly always signed his works and 
 dated them, thus giving us much the fullest record of his 
 progress of any of the great masters unless it be Albert 
 Diirer, we are able to trace the steps of his descent in pub- 
 lic favor. The reason is not far to, seek. Rembrandt was 
 not a boor, but he was no courtier. Born of the people, - 
 he never acquired the engaging manners that ingratiate one 
 with the rich and powerful. By nature he was solitary. 
 He could work only in seclusion ; and while at his easel he 
 would not suspend his labors though a monarch should 
 knock. The merchant princes of Amsterdam, accustomed 
 to have the artists in obsequious attendance at their beck 
 and call, were deeply affronted when refused admittance 
 to the master's studio, and carried their commissions to 
 more courteous painters. Nor in his hours of leisure 
 did Rembrandt frequent the houses of the great. He 
 either remained at home with Saskia, or he associated with 
 his chosen friends, few of whom were in a position to lend 
 him help. He did not even join the gatherings of his 
 brother artists, who therefore felt no concern for his suc- 
 cess. He said, " When I desire to rest my mind, I seek not 
 honors, but liberty." Liberty he got, the liberty to paint 
 the wonderful visions of fused light and darkness that 
 floated before his mind's eye; but the honors which he 
 sought not went to those who sought them. 
 
336 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 Then, too, as we have seen, the luminous shadows in 
 which he continued more and more to envelop his figures 
 puzzled and disconcerted his patrons. Plain, honest Dutch- 
 men, they wanted a matter-of-fact likeness with no non- 
 sense. They wanted to be well painted, but they wanted 
 to look exactly as they looked in daily life when dressed in 
 their best, with no unearthly illumination. 
 
 If the master had been content to paint as in his early 
 days, he might have maintained the public favor despite 
 his want of diplomacy and manners. The transparent 
 ' colors, the admirable realism, the exact resemblance, the 
 profound insight into the sitter's soul which those early 
 portraits display would have sufficed to place him in the 
 highest rank of the world's portrait painters, and were so 
 pleasing to his sitters that they would hardly have aban- 
 doned him. But he was not satisfied to remain stationary. 
 Most likely he could not. Genius is a strange thing. It 
 seems an external force, a spirit from without that drives 
 one on, even against one's will. Besides, the human eye 
 is a thing of infinite diversity. Probably no two persons 
 see an object exactly alike. It is quite possible that Rem- 
 brandt's eye became so susceptible to effects of light that 
 he saw things as he painted them, shrouded in an effulgent 
 shadow. What seems to us a vision was in all likelihood 
 to him the plain reality. Like Luther, he might have an- 
 swered his critics, Ich kann nicht anders. 
 
 When he received the commission to paint the company 
 of the civic guard commanded by Capt. Frans Banning 
 Cocq, and was offered therefor the unexampled price of 
 sixteen hundred florins, he resolved to produce a master- 
 piece. This he did; and he took one of the great steps 
 upon that road that was to lead him to immortal glory and 
 to the bankrupt court. 
 
 Corporation pictures are numerous in Holland. All of 
 its great galleries are filled with them. They are one of 
 
REMBRANDT 337 
 
 the institutions of the country. They are the natural 
 product of the close union that grew up among the citizens 
 during the long course of the eighty years' war with Spain, 
 when the hearts of men were on continual trial, and they 
 learned to respect and esteem one another. An honest, 
 well-meaning people, devoted to their country and to their 
 homes, experience bound them ever closer together. Mu- 
 tual confidence led them to act in union, through corpora- 
 tions of all kinds, rather than individually, as in other 
 lands. They were a masculine race. Their women, usu- 
 ally as conspicuous for plainness of features as for piety 
 and household virtues, were the guardians of the domestic 
 hearth, making the home bright and clean and restful for' 
 the men, who sought not the society of other women, but 
 spent the time that was not passed by their firesides in the 
 companionship of their own sex. 
 
 Foremost among the various guilds were the military 
 companies. The long wars, waged not for aggression but 
 for the defense of their homes against Spanish bigotry, had 
 lent to the profession of arms a seriousness and dignity 
 rarely to be found elsewhere. We do not have to go back 
 to the history of that time to understand the spirit that 
 animated them. In the matchless courage, the dogged de- 
 termination, the quiet heroism that does prodigies as though 
 they were matters of every day occurrence, displayed by 
 the Boors when defending their homes in the Transvaal 
 against a power infinitely greater than Spain ever was, we 
 have seen what the Dutch citizen-soldier was like — a man 
 to place beside the Spartans of Leonidas. 
 
 Bound together by ties of friendship and mutual re- 
 spect, meeting frequently in their armories or doelens, these 
 men naturally liked to be painted together. And thus many 
 portrait groups had been made, which, it must be confessed, 
 are terribly monotonous. Sitting all behind a long table, 
 usually glass in hand and looking straight out at the spec- 
 
338 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 tator, no technical ability can enliven the hopeless dullness 
 of the arrangement. Nor was this easy to change. Gen- 
 erally each contributed an equal sum toward the cost of 
 the work, and felt that he was entitled to an equal place 
 upon the canvas. 
 To so great a poet of the brush as Rembrandt so com- 
 
 I monplace a conception was intolerable. He resolved to 
 give his sitters not merely a group of portraits, but a picture 
 — a picture full of animation and suffused with a magic 
 
 ' light. Instead of seating them stupidly behind a table, he 
 would represent them in the picturesque disorder of a sud- 
 den call to arms. Instead of the garish light of day which 
 hates darkness and drives it ruthlessly away, he would 
 flood the picture with his own magic light, which can coex- 
 ist with darkness, rendering it still more mysterious and 
 alluring, while the darkness in return heightens the splendo» 
 of the light. How gloriously he succeeded, the picture at 
 Amsterdam, which the world at large persists in esteeming 
 his masterpiece despite the preference of his more devoted 
 followers for the Syndics, yet remains to attest. 
 
 Since it was so admirably cleaned by M. Hopman in 
 1889, it is hard to understand how it got its name of the 
 Night Watch. But its previous condition amply justified 
 the title. Hung for many years in the Doelen amid the 
 smoke of tobacco and peat fires, and then in the town hall 
 under conditions hardly better, many times varnished with- 
 out removing the soot, it had grown so dark that it ap- 
 peared indeed to represent a nocturnal scene. Now, how- 
 ever, thanks to M. Hopman, it shines out again in all its 
 pristine splendor, and we see that the action takes place in 
 daylight — not the common daylight of this work-a-day 
 world, but the magic daylight revealed to a poet's eye. 
 
 The picture has suffered sadly. When in 1715 it was 
 removed to the town hall, it was cut down at both sides to 
 fit a space between two windows, thus destroying the unity 
 
REMBRANDT 339 
 
 of the composition. Many used to think that Rembrandt 
 painted it thus, and found in his example a justification of 
 their own vagaries; but the ancient copy in the National 
 Gallery and the contemporary water-color made for Capt. 
 Cocq remain to justify the master. 
 
 The Night Watch aroused a storm of indignant protest. ' 
 The members of the company, who had expected to find ; 
 themselves in conspicuous positions, too often discovered ' 
 that they were relegated to the rear or not recognizable at 
 all.^ They felt that the painter had stolen their money ; and 
 their wrath found vent in loud abuse. These strange lumi- 
 nous shadows, which persisted in the presence of light, also 
 disconcerted them, and they called the master " the Prince 
 jof Darkriess." In their matter-of-fact outlook on life, they 
 failed utterly to grasp the poetry of the picture, and saw in 
 i^ only an unnatural thing, wholly different from what they 
 had a right to expect. 
 
 Nor was the general public more favorably disposed ; and' 
 this great masterpiece, one of the world's most priceless^ 
 possessions, proved the painter's ruin. Commissions fell ^ 
 away, until there are years when it does not appear that he 
 had a single sitter, and when his only portraits are of him- 
 self and members of his family. 
 
 To the credit of the Stadholder, however, be it said, he 
 did not desert the master with the rest. In 1646, he com- ' 
 missioned of Rembrandt two pictures, a Circumcision that 
 has disappeared and an Adoration of the Shepherds, still , 
 to be seen at Munich, for which he paid 2,400 floriqs, the 
 largest sum that the painter ever received. This, however, 
 was the Prince's last commission, and during the twenty- 
 three remaining years of Rembrandt's life — years when he 
 was painting his most wonderful works — the government 
 took no further notice of his existence. 
 
 A weaker man would have bent to the storm and would 
 have tried to return to his former lucid manner, where 
 
340 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 colors were bright, contoiirs well defined, nature revealed 
 as it appears to common mortals. Instead of this, the mas- 
 ter advanced resolutely on the path that he had chosen. 
 Every year his shadows grow at once deeper and more 
 luminous, the transfiguration of common things in a world 
 of magic light becomes more surprising. The colors, once 
 varied and brilliant, gradually become confined to a deep 
 gold, a splendid but low-toned russet, rich browns and 
 greens that shade in with the general scheme and bring out 
 the glory of the chiaroscuro. The honest burghers of Am- 
 sterdam looked with open-mouthed astonishment, and went 
 their way, leaving the master to his luminous dreams. 
 
 It was hard for him, but for posterity it was a priceless 
 boon. No longer pursued by patrons demanding their 
 portraits, he turned to nature. In his early days he had 
 been content to borrow his landscapes from others. Liv- 
 ing in his flat land, he had never seen a mountain, a water- 
 fall, even a respectable hill; yet with such are his back- 
 grounds filled; painted, of course, without conviction or 
 realistic power. But shortly before Saskia's decease his 
 mind was awakened to the quiet beauties of his own land, 
 and he began to etch and paint his native landscapes. 
 Her death drove him rapidly on that path. His home, no 
 longer irradiated by her presence, filled him only with 
 mourning for his loss. A sickly and crying baby rendered 
 it still less attractive, though he loved the child tenderly. 
 No patrons demanded his services, and he sought surcease 
 of sorrow in Nature, the great consoler. An artist to his 
 finger tips, he could see nothing without the desire to jot 
 it down upon his notebooks ; and from these he made etch- 
 ings and paintings that are among the masterpieces of 
 landscape art. The paintings are usually little more than 
 hasty sketches done in oil, but filled with so penetrating an 
 observation that they are to be accounted among master 
 works. 
 
REMBRANDT 341 
 
 In his etchings he used all known processes, combining 
 them and heightening them with dry-point in a way that is 
 utterly unconventional, but which usually produces the de- 
 sired result with the surprising aptn'ess of genius; for 
 genius works to its end in ways that common men think 
 not of. He always printed them himself, using a care and 
 skill that are unexampled. By common consent he is 
 ranked as the world's greatest etcher, though his irregular 
 processes, suited only to himself, are usually fatal to his 
 imitators. Conspicuous among his etched landscapes are 
 the Three Trees and the View of Omval, though there are 
 many scarcely less remarkable. His etchings of figures are 
 perhaps of still greater merit. No one else ever put into 
 black and white such accuracy of modeling, such penetra- 
 tion of character, such sense of light and shade. His 
 homely and affecting etching of the Bible story carried a 
 living comprehension of the sacred volume into the hum- 
 blest homes, while his etchings of beggars and of the poor 
 brought to the rich a realization of the sorrows and strug- 
 gles of the humbler classes. 
 
 Long after he had ceased to be the favorite of the pub- 
 lic, artists continued to realize his worth, and his studio was 
 full. Some of Holland's greatest painters were his pupils 
 in these days of neglect. Nicholas Maes was with him 
 from 1650 to 1653. Carel Frabritius left his studio a few 
 years before. Philips de Koninck was with him till 1646. 
 Samuel van Hoogstraaten worked under him from 1640 
 to 16S0. And there were many others whose names are 
 less well known. Gradually, however, they fell away. 
 Much as they might appreciate his art, they were forced to 
 realize that it was not of a kind to bring the guldens to 
 their purse, and they had to live. So they drifted from his 
 golden dreams to a world that their sitters could compre- 
 hend. 
 
 It was in these days of ever-increasing neglect that Rem- 
 
342 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 brandt painted his greatest masterpieces, those marvelous 
 visions where light penetrates darkness, illuminating with- 
 out destroying it, and transfiguring everything with a glory 
 that is not of this earth. He becomes at once the poet of 
 darkness and the poet of light, who reveals them as har- 
 monious, not as conflicting powers. 
 
 Conspicuous among the masterpieces of this sad period 
 is the Woman taken in Adultery of the National Gallery. 
 Rembrandt has transferred the scene from the open road 
 where Christ stooped and wrote in the sand to the vaults 
 of a mighty Gothic temple filled with luminous gloom, while 
 a bright transfiguring light falls upon the Saviour and the 
 repentant sinner. 
 
 In the Christ with the Disciples at Emmaus of the 
 Louvre, he gives us the most affecting of all presentations 
 of that scene. You can see in the face of the Redeemer 
 that he has passed through the agony of death, and known 
 the horror of the grave. He is indeed one arisen from the 
 dead, not yet to the glory of celestial life, but only to the 
 sorrows of humanity, whose sad burden of mortality he 
 has borne. The fervent faith of one disciple, the yet un- 
 convinced wonder of the other, are also marvelously por- 
 trayed. 
 
 There are many masterly portraits of these days, though 
 few were paid commissions. Preeminent among these is 
 that of Elisabeth Bas at the Rycksmuseum. So convincing 
 a portrayal of an aged but still vigorous woman, of power- 
 ful and keen but not unkindly mind, accustomed to rule 
 her household and to be held in deserved respect, was never 
 painted. It is Rembrandt's masterpiece in a field where his 
 preeminence is beyond contention — the portraiture of 
 elderly women. No one else ever represented them so 
 truthfully or so kindly. All the ravages of time are made 
 apparent, but also the strengthening of the soul that age 
 and sorrow bring. 
 
REMBRANDT 343 
 
 It is not surprising that Rembrandt preferred to paint 
 the faces of the old. What interested him most in the hu- 
 man countenance was character. The faces of the young' 
 have freshness, beauty and charm, but Time has not yet 
 had the opportunity to etch upon them the lines that pas- 
 sion and thought, the soul's aspirations and its abasement, 
 will later draw, revealing in the outward lineaments all that 
 the man has become, much that he has done and suffered. 
 
 Singular aberrations of the time are the pictures repre- 
 senting the carcass of a skinned ox hanging in a butcher's 
 stall. The most familiar of these is the one in the Louvre, 
 painted in 1650. One can imagine how an artist might 
 make a hasty sketch of such a thing; but how he could 
 bring himself to waste precious days in making a carefully 
 finished picture of such an object when all nature was offer- 
 ing its beauties to his brush, is hard to conceive. It is im- 
 possible to deny our tribute of admiration to the mastery 
 of its execution, or to refrain from wondering why it was 
 done at all. 
 
 Meantime at home his affairs were going from bad to 
 worse. He was the most incapable of business men. He \ 
 never thought of paying a debt, or of caring for the mor- 
 row. If he got some money, instead of applying it to his 
 pressing obligations or laying it aside for future use, he 
 spent it in increasing his collections of curios and works 
 of art. The appraisers valued the art objects that he had 
 acquired during the lean years from 1640 to 1650 at 11,000 
 florins, and he had no doubt paid for them a much higher 
 price. 
 
 When he took possession of Saskia's fortune, he made no 
 inventory. Indeed, in December, 1642, he procured an or- 
 der of court dispensing with the necessity of so doing. As 
 he was bound to account to Titus for one-half in the prob- 
 able event of his remarriage, this was inexcusable, and in 
 the end it brought him many vexations. 
 
344 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 His mismanagement of the inheritance was so con- 
 spicuous that in 1647 Saskia's relatives brought suit to com- 
 pel him to account for her estate, whether in their own 
 interest or on behalf of Titus does not appear. Rem- 
 brandt replied that at the time of Saskia's death its value 
 was 40,750 florins, to the best of his knowledge, as we have 
 already stated; and for the time the proceedings dropped. 
 Still he gave no bond, and the court took no steps for his 
 son's protection; no doubt out of respect for the terms of 
 the will. 
 
 In 1648 the Peace of Westphalia established the inde- 
 pendence of Holland. It had long been an accomplished 
 fact; but this recognition of it by all the world filled the 
 hearts of the Dutch' with exultation. The event was cele- 
 brated by fetes and rejoicings. The artists were called 
 upon to add their tribute. Rembrandt, however, had so 
 far sunk out of sight and favor that none called on him. 
 Anxious to assert himself, he began the confused allegorical 
 composition now in Rotterdam called La Concorde du 
 Pays. It found no favor and never got past the state of 
 grisaille. Nor is the loss great. Rembrandt had no talent 
 for allegory. 
 
 After Saskia's death he was fortunate in finding for his 
 delicate babe a devoted nurse in the person of Geertje 
 Dircx, a widow. She grew to love the child almost as a 
 mother, and with tender solicitude watched over it through 
 all the ailments of its frail infancy. On January 24, 1648, 
 she made a will, by which she left all her estate to Titus, 
 save the small amount which the law compelled her to leave 
 to her mother. 
 
 She not unreasonably cherished the hope of becoming 
 Rembrandt's wife, since she was already the foster mother 
 of his child. But in 1649 the scene suddenly changes. 
 She revokes the will in favor of Titus, and brings suit 
 against Rembrandt for breach of marriage promise. He 
 
REMBRANDT 345 
 
 replies in an affidavit attested by two witnesses that she had 
 never been anything save a servant in his house. Next 
 year she becomes violently insane, and at Rembrandt's ex- 
 pense is carried to Gouda and confined in an asylum; so 
 the suit abated. Whether her insanity was due to her 
 blasted hopes, or whether her fallacious hopes were due to 
 her insanity, no one can know. 
 
 The reason of the outbreak is not far' to seek. Of the 
 two witnesses in Rembrandt's behalf, one was Hendrickje 
 Stofifels, a comely young maidservant from Ransdorp on 
 the Westphalian frontier. Twenty-three years of age, in 
 the fresh bloom of her youth, of a kindly and loving dis- 
 position, faithful and devoted, she had found favor in the 
 master's eyes. She bore him a child, which died at its 
 birth, and was buried on August 15, 1652. She was wholly 
 uneducated, and signed her name with a cross ; but she was 
 good and intelligent, and she did her best to make her mas- 
 ter's home a happy one. Whether Rembrandt ever married 
 her we do not know. Certainly he had not done so on 
 July 23, 1654, when she was summoned before the elders 
 of her ciiurch, severely reprimanded, and forbidden the 
 communion table until she should mend her ways. In the 
 following October she bore a daughter, who was again 
 christened Cornelia, after the master's mother. Let us 
 hope that they were then married; but the records of all 
 the churches of Amsterdam have been searched in vain to 
 find an evidence of their lawful union. 
 
 Yet there are circumstances which point to a marriage. '| 
 On October 27, 1661, in one of his numerous law-suits, ■ 
 Rembrandt describes her as his " huysfrouw," or wife, the 
 same title that he had given Saskia. Again, in 1665, Louis 
 Crayers, as guardian of Titus, established against Rem- 
 brandt's estate in bankruptcy a claim for half of Saskia's 
 fortune, 20,375 florins, to which, by the terms of the will, 
 Titus would have had no right unless his father had mar- 
 
346 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 ried again. We know that Titus' claim was bitterly con- 
 tested by Rembrandt's numerous creditors, and it seems 
 most unlikely that they should have overlooked so obvious 
 a point. Rembrandt would have been a sorry man if he 
 had not given the protection of his name to the mother of 
 his acknowledged daughter, to the woman who shielded his 
 improvidence and supported him by her industry when all 
 other means had failed. Moreover, he was an affectionate 
 father, and by marrying Hendrickje he would give Titus 
 a right to one-half of his mother's estate as against creditors 
 to whose claims he was always indifferent. Thriftless and 
 improvident, overwhelined with debt and without social 
 standing, there was no reason why he should not make 
 reparation to the good woman whose life was worn out in 
 his service, and we must hope that he did. Still, we should 
 be happier if we had the proof. It is sad that such a doubt 
 should cloud the fair fame of one of the greatest names in 
 art. 
 
 Fortunately we know exactly how Hendrickje looked. 
 In the Louvre she appears in a fine portrait, and again in 
 a magnificent life-size picture as Bathsheba entirely un- 
 clothed. Neither in form nor feature is she beautiful; but 
 she is not uncomely. The face is pleasant and attractive, 
 the form immeasurably superior to the wretched creatures 
 who were the only models that Rembrandt could hire for 
 his nude pictures in Puritanical Holland. She is in face 
 and figure perhaps as good looking as Saskia, and she was 
 a stronger helpmate for the master in the lean years that 
 were to follow. Indeed, in the splendid picture in the 
 Louvre where she appears with her child as Venus and 
 Cupid she is very charming — a healthy Dutch woman with 
 agreeable features and opulent bosom, who might well 
 please a man more exacting than Rembrandt in his standards 
 of beauty. A portrait of her that is perhaps equally de- 
 lightful is to be found at Berlin, a masterpiece of the brush. 
 
REMBRANDT 347 
 
 We know that Hendrickje was faithful and devoted, 
 and that she did her best to save the master from ruin. 
 But the task was hopeless. Nothing could persuade him 
 to paint as his patrons wished; nothing could induce him 
 to seek the favor of the great ; nothing could teach him the 
 value of money. As long as it was rolling in as fast as' he 
 could spend it, all went well; but when the inflow ceased, 
 he could not cease to spend. And so his fortunes went 
 from bad to worse.. 
 
 In 1649 l^e ceased paying interest on his home. Some- 
 where between 1650 and 1652 he sold to Philips de 
 Koninck the pearl necklace which he had so often painted 
 in his pictures of Saskia. On January 29, 1653, he bor- 
 rowed of Cornells Whitsen 4,180 florins, payable in a year. 
 On February i, following, Thysz, who had received no in- 
 terest on his debt for four years and had even had to pay 
 the taxes, brought suit against him for 8,470 florins still 
 due on the house. On March 14, 1653, he borrowed 
 4,200 florins of Isaac Van Heertsbeek, also payable in a 
 year, and about the same time he also borrowed money from 
 his friend Six on the guaranty of one Ludowick van 
 Ludick, who had eventually to pay it. Of course he had 
 no reasonable expectation of meeting these large debts, for 
 his art was bringing in only the most meager returns. 
 With the sums thus borrowed he paid off all the purchase 
 money due Thysz except 1,170 florins, for which he gave 
 a mortgage on the dwelling. On top of all these mis- 
 fortunes his brother Adriaen had so mismanaged affairs at 
 the ancestral mill that Rembrandt had to come to the aid \ 
 of his family at Leyden. Indeed, he could never restrain* 
 his generous impulses. Baldinucci tells us that he was to 
 be admired less for his noble devotion to his art than for 
 a kindness of heart verging on extravagance. 
 
 In the effort to get out of his difficulties, Rembrandt 
 made a singular arrangement with one Dirck van Catten- 
 
348 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 burch. In substance, he was to give Rembrandt a smaller 
 house for 4,000 florins, take the house in the Breestreet, 
 pay Rembrandt 1,000 florins in cash, and the latter was to 
 deliver 3,000 florins' worth of pictures and etchings, in- 
 cluding an etching of Dirck's brother. What tempted the 
 painter in this was the 1,000 florins in cash. This he duly 
 received, and Dirck no doubt got pictures and etchings of 
 that value, though Rembrandt does not seem ever to have 
 etched the brother, nor to have received the smaller house; 
 while Dirck certainly did not get the big one. Probably all 
 that the complicated transaction resulted in was a sale of 
 works of art for a thousand very welcome florins. 
 
 The troubles of these years soon wrought a change in the 
 master's appearance. Instead of the gay young cavalier 
 with upturned mustaches and locks flowing about his shoul- 
 ders, who held Saskia on his knee and masqueraded in 
 splendid costumes, we see a sad-eyed man of middle age, 
 plainly dressed, with mustache cropped close above his lip, 
 with short hair and a gaze that is weary and world-worn, 
 though still clear and firm. Fortunately, the mania for 
 painting his own portrait continued to the end, so that his 
 features are preserved at every period of his life. 
 
 Yet in these evil hours, while darkness was gathering 
 thick about him, the artist in him maintained an untroubled 
 supremacy ; and year by year the master advanced in power 
 and in the realization of his glorious dream of wedding 
 light to darkness ; becoming each day more amazing in the 
 poetry of his conception of the parts that they should play, 
 more perfect in the production of his luminous shadows. 
 
 At last the mismanagement of Saskia's estate became so 
 evident that relatives felt compelled to interfere for the 
 protection of her son. On May 17, 1656, Rembrandt was 
 superseded as guardian of Titus, and Jan Verbout was 
 appointed by the Orphans' Court. To make good in some 
 measure the waste of the inheritance, Rembrandt made 
 
REMBRANDT 349 
 
 over to Titus his interest in the house. This was a fraud 
 on the men who had lent him the money to pay Thysz on 
 the understanding that they were to hold the house as their 
 security. They brought suit to set the deed aside, and a 
 long litigation followed. Shortly afterwards, on the de- 
 mand of his creditors, Rembrandt was adjudged a bank\ 
 rupt, and an inventory was made on July 25th, 1656, of 
 the contents of his home. This inventory still exists. It 
 is curious that among its profusion of artistic objects there 
 were less than twenty books, and only one of these, the 
 Bible, had probably ever been read. The character of the 
 others is such as to indicate that they had been given to 
 him or bought for some reason other than a desire to 
 read them. 
 
 Though everything had been seized by the bailiff, Rem- 
 brandt was allowed to remain in his home until Decembpr 
 of the following year, when he was forced out, and took 
 up his abode at the Crown Imperial Inn. The modest 
 price paid for his lodging has led M. Michel to infer that 
 his family went elsewhere; but that is only a surmise. 
 They may all have lived at the inn in the simple fashion 
 which their circumstances demanded. 
 
 Meanwhile, on October 20, 1657, Titus made his will.^ 
 It never became effective, but it is interesting as showing 
 that the family recognized the master's incapacity for busi- 
 ness. Everything was left to Hendrickje and Cornelia in 
 trust for Rembrandt, who was to receive a certain share 
 on condition that he should not use it in paying his debts — 
 a most unnecessary precaution; for the payment of debts 
 was the last thing that the master ever thought of. 
 
 The house was finally sold, and brought 11,218 florins, 
 while all its contents, which must have cost fifty thousand, 
 realized but five. We may imagine the despair of the mas- 
 ter as he saw the objects which he held so dear and for 
 which he had paid so much going under the hammer at 
 
350 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 pitiful sums, and he without a florin to rescue even the 
 most precious. The house still remains, little altered save 
 that it has been divided by a partition so as to accommodate 
 two families. 
 I At last, unable to pay his hotel bill, Rembrandt was 
 j forced to abandon the inn, and to seek inexpensive quarters 
 on the outskirts of the town. He found a house in the 
 Rozengracht opposite a pleasure garden called the Doolhof , 
 and here he resided until 1664. 
 
 Meantime, Hendrickje and Titus had to do something 
 to earn a livelihood; so on December 15, 1660, they formed 
 a partnership to deal in pictures, engravings and curios, 
 using the master only as an expert in the acquisition of their 
 wares. This partnership continued until Hendrickje's 
 death, and while its profits were in all likelihood modest 
 enough, they served to keep the family going in an humble 
 way. 
 
 How completely Rembrandt had passed out of sight is 
 indicated "by the fact that when the Guild of St. Luke was 
 reorganized in 1653, he was omitted. His wonderful poems 
 of light were so little understood that he was no longer 
 esteemed to be a painter worthy of a seat in that august 
 body. 
 
 Gradually his sight began to fail. We can trace the 
 aging of his vision in his work. His style of painting 
 becomes continually broader. Unable to see close at hand, 
 he is compelled, with the long-sightedness of advancing 
 years, to stand at a distance from his easel, and to apply 
 the paint with a long brush, and in large blotches. Such, 
 however, was his mastery that these adverse conditions 
 only enhanced the power of his art. These later works, 
 seen close at hand, appear but daubs. Stand back at the 
 proper distance, however, and they shine out with supreme 
 power. It was at this period of his life that he said to 
 some connoisseurs who were examining one of his pictures 
 
REMBRANDT 351 
 
 too closely, " Do not sniff at oil paint ; it is not healthy." , 
 After 1661, his eyes were too far gone for the use of the/ 
 needle, and his etchings cease. , 
 
 In 1660 he painted his David playing before Saul, novv\ 
 at The Hague, a masterpiece of broad handling. The 
 splotches of paint, which look so crude close at hand, re- 
 solve themselves into the richest harmony at the proper 
 distance. 
 
 In the following year he painted what the majority of 
 connoisseurs esteem his masterpiece — the Syndics of the 
 Draper^ Guild, now in the Rycksmuseum. How he hap- 
 pened to be entrusted with so important a commission we 
 do not know. He was no doubt admonished that there 
 must be no nonsense this time, as in the Night Watch, that 
 the conventional arrangement must be adhered to and 
 shadows abandoned. He did his best to please his patrons. 
 They are seated at a table covered with a red cloth — five 
 grave merchants engaged in the prosaic occupation of cast- 
 ing up their accounts, while a servant stands respectfully 
 behind. Nothing could be simpler ; but the magic of genius 
 has made from these sim^e elements one of the world's 
 great masterpieces. The handling is as broad as in the 
 Said and David; but at the right distance everything re- 
 solves itself into a dignified harmony. 
 
 What impression the picture made we do not know; 
 apparently very little^ for no contemporary comments have 
 come down to us. Accustomed to the minute finish which 
 was then the fashion, people no doubt looked upon it only 
 as a rather clever sketch, good enough for the poor old 
 man who had lost his way among the shadows. 
 
 The portraits of these later days are the most wonderful 
 of all. From a luminous gloom that shrouds it in mys- 
 tery, the figure emerges, lit up by a magic light that re- 
 veals not merely the outward lineaments, but the man's 
 inmost soul; telling us what joy and sorrow, failure and 
 
352 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 success, have made of him. Unhappily, few of these 
 portraits were commissions. The aging artist, deserted 
 by the world, had \o ask others to sit to him as an accom- 
 modation, because his tireless energy and his undying quest 
 of truth and beauty would not permit him to be idle. 
 
 In 1664 Rembrandt painted one of his greatest master- 
 pieces, the Unmerciful Servant of the Wallace Collection. 
 Indeed, it is doubtful whether he ever excelled this miracle 
 of art. The shadows are unsurpassed in their rich 
 luminosity, and the faces of the men emerging from this 
 background so full of mystery and silence, are realized 
 with incomparable force and most intensely characterized. 
 Perhaps no other single picture gives one so full a com- 
 prehension of all the master's powers. It was later still, 
 probably in 1668 or 1669, that he produced the Jewish 
 Bride of Amsterdam, so rich in its subdued color, so 
 powerfully realized, so marvelously painted. There is 
 nothing Jewish about the picture, which probably repre- 
 sents Titus and his wife, and which shows that, poor and 
 neglected as he was, the great painter grew in strength 
 and splendor till the end. 
 
 It is natural that in these dark days Rembrandt's in- 
 tensely religious mind should have turned to the Man of 
 Sorrows ; and it was now that he produced his noblest pic- 
 tures of the Saviour — pictures in which there is an in- 
 finite sadness but great dignity and strength. 
 
 In the summer of 1661, the good Hendrickje fell seri- 
 ously ill, and on August 7 made her will, leaving her prop- 
 erty, first, to Cornelia, then to Titus, Rembrandt to enjoy 
 the income during his life. When she died we do not 
 know; some say in 1662, others in 1664. No record of 
 her burial has been found; but she passes out of Rem- 
 brandt's life, and death alone could have divided them. 
 
 On October 27, 1662, Rembrandt sold the vault in the 
 Oude Kerk where Saskia was buried. What became of 
 
REMBRANDT 353 
 
 her poor little body is unknown. Let us hope that it 
 found a fitting resting place elsewhere.' It was a strange 
 thing to do. Poor as Rembrandt was, we cannot believe 
 that he sold his wife's grave to get money. The pic- 
 tures which he continued to paint reveal no degradation 
 of his feelings. Perhaps Hendrickje had died, and he 
 bought a burial place for both the excellent women who had 
 lived for him alone. The Oude Kerk was far removed 
 from his present dwelling on the Rozengracht, and he may 
 have wanted Saskia nearer. No record has been found to 
 explain the transaction, and we must give the master the 
 benefit of every doubt. 
 
 In 1664 Rembrandt left the Rozengracht and settled 
 in the Lauriergracht. On June 27, 1664, Titus' full claim 
 of 20,375 florins was allowed, but only 6,952 remained. In 
 Holland where the age of majority was twenty-five, he 
 was still a minor; but on the testimony of three witnesses 
 that " by reason both of his business ability and of his 
 exemplary conduct," he was entitled to it, the court on 
 June 19, 1665, declared him of age, and on November 5, 
 1665, he received what remained of his inheritance. Then 
 they moved back to the Rozengracht, which would lead one 
 to infer that the removal to the Lauriergracht the year 
 before had been under the stress of poverty. 
 
 Late in 1667, Titus married his cousin, Magdalena van 
 Loo, and went to live with her on the Singel near thej 
 Apple Market, leaving Rembrandt alone with Cornelia on 
 the Rozengracht. It must have been a sad life that the 
 old man led. Coppenol and Six seem to have been faith- 
 ful to the end ; but the world had forgotten him, and none 
 came to have his portrait painted or to buy the wonderful 
 pictures that were in his studio. Yet even in these last 
 days there was one ray of sunshine. When men had ceased 
 to regard him as a painter, Aert de Gelder came to be 
 his pupil, and abode with him to the last. Aert appre- 
 
354 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 ciated his genius in full measure, and sympathized with 
 all his aspirations ; and the companionship of the intelligent 
 youth must have been a great consolation to Rembrandt in 
 his abandonment. 
 
 It is recorded by Baldinucci that he who was once so 
 careful of his dress, had become so slovenly in such matters 
 that he would wipe his brushes on the rear portions of his 
 clothing. 
 
 They tell us that in these melancholy days when the 
 world had forsaken him, he would wander among the shops 
 of the Jewish dealers in second-hand clothing, admiring 
 the splendid fabrics that he loved so much and which he 
 no longer had the means to buy, even in their cast-oflf con- 
 dition. He had so passed out of sight that some of his 
 contemporaries, writing after his death, explain his disap- 
 pearance by saying that he had gone to England, while 
 others say that he had moved to Stockholm, where he was 
 painter to the King. 
 
 In 1668 or 1669, he painted his last picture save portraits 
 of himself, the Return of the Prodigal at St. Petersburg. 
 Was the poor, lonely old man thinking of his son Titus, 
 who had taken his fair young wife and gone away? It 
 is one of his greatest masterpieces, as remarkable for the 
 breadth and power of the execution as for the intensity of 
 the feeling. 
 
 Even yet the master's cup of sorrow had not been emptied 
 to the dregs. Within a year after his marriage, Titus 
 died, and on September 4, 1668, he was buried in the 
 Wester Kerk. 
 
 Still Rembrandt lived on, but he painted nothing save 
 his own portrait. It was not vanity that drove him to this. 
 Had that been his motive, he would have endeavored to 
 cover up some of the cruelest ravages of time. On the 
 contrary, he is relentless to himself as to others. He gives 
 us year by year the record of his decay. We see a strong 
 
REMBRANDT 355 
 
 man who from sorrow and for want of exercise slowly goes , 
 to pieces. We see the flesh growing each year flabbier, 
 the lines on brow and cheek deepening, all the havoc that 
 outrageous fortune has wrought upon the face once so 
 full of buoyant strength. Only the eyes retain their power. \ 
 Each year they grow sadder ; but they still look out on the ' 
 world clear, deep-seeing and with, no abatement of their 
 inward fire. Even in these melancholy years the taste for 
 painting himself in rich costumes and with varying expres- 
 sions does not forsake him. The saddest of all his pictures 
 is that at Berlin, where he appears laughing. Tears would 
 not have in them so much of sorrow and disappointment 
 as that forced laugh. 
 
 In March, 1669, Titus' widow gave birth to a daughter, 
 who on March 22nd was christened Titia, after her father. 
 Rembrandt was one of the witnesses. Then we lose trace 
 of him until we find this entry in the register of deaths 
 in the Wester Kerk : " Tuesday, 8 October, 1669, Rem- 
 brandt van Rijn, painter, on the Rozengracht, opposite the 
 Doolhof. Leaves two children." The inventory drawn up 
 shortly afterward shows that he " left nothing of personal 
 property but some linen and woolen garments and his paint- 
 ing materials." So passed away in poverty and neglect the 
 last of the great masters, and, as many believe, the greatest. 
 
 He was buried at a cost of 13 florins at the foot of the 
 staircase leading up to the pulpit on the left hand side as 
 you go up the Wester Kerk. Some years ago, when the 
 pavement of the church was relaid, what was supposed to 
 be his cofiin was found half open; but not even the dust 
 of the mighty master remained. 
 
 Such was the wretched end of one of the greatest of 
 painters. He had already been so completely forgottert 
 that no contemporary notice of his death has been found. 
 His great-nephew, Wybrandt de Geest, writes : " But a 
 short time ago the ignorance of reputed connoisseurs was 
 
356 THE WORLD'S LEADING PAINTERS 
 
 so gross with regard to the admirable works of the mighty 
 Rembrandt, that it was possible to buy one of his portraits 
 for six-pence, as many well-known amateurs and dealers 
 can attest. After a while, however, the price rose to eleven 
 florins, and now one of these powerful works commands 
 several hundred florins." Continually their value has ad- 
 vanced until now half a million has been paid for a single 
 picture, and single etchings have brought ten thousand. 
 
 Dr. Bode, who has devoted so much study to Rembrandt, 
 iinforms us that his paintings number more than six hun- 
 dred, all done practically by his own hand and without 
 assistance from his pupils, while there are more than three 
 hundred and fifty etchings. This is the best answer to the, 
 charges of drunkenness that were made against him in the 
 eighteenth century, when there arose a Rembrandt legend 
 with no foundation save the imagination of his conscience- 
 less biographers. 
 
 Fromentin, in his great masterpiece of critical discern- 
 ment, " Les Maitres d' Autrefois," which has done so much 
 to make us understand Dutch and Flemish art, finds the an- 
 swer to the riddle of Rembrandt's painting in the idea that 
 he had a dual nature, that he was a realist and at the same 
 time an idealist, and that the two elements were forever 
 contending for the mastery. It may be so, but we fail 
 to see it. We find no trace of idealism in the ordinary 
 meaning of the term. He never tries to make an object 
 more beautiful than it is. No matter how ugly a face or 
 form may be, he presents it with unflinching realism. 
 What he does is not to idealize, but to transfigure by the 
 power of light. He does not try to improve the object 
 painted, but to make of it a thing of beauty, of abiding 
 charm, by the magic light that he casts about it. This 
 involves no duality of nature, no conflict of opposing 
 elements, such as Fromentin sees. It is a consistent pur- 
 pose, revealed in the Presentation in the Temple of his 
 
REMBRANDT 357 
 
 earlier days, and persisted in with ever-increasing power to 
 the end. 
 
 Rembrandt was probably the greatest master of the, 
 brush that ever lived. From the minute finish of his early j 
 days to the splendid freedom of his later years he reveals; 
 almost every phase of brushwork, and in all he is ad-! 
 mirable, while in many aspects he remains unequaled. His 
 pigments are always rich and lustrous; his colors, bright 
 in youth, grow deep and mellow with advancing years. He 
 is alone in his mastery of the luminous shadow, in reveaU 
 ing all the mystery and beauty that are to be found in; 
 light and shade. He is also the painter of the air, which 
 surrounds all his figures. They stand out as in life, full 
 or vitality and bathed in atmosphere. Of portra!it paintersi 
 he is the supreme master. Not Raphael with his keen 
 realism, not Titian with his dignity and grace, not Van Dyck 
 with his aristocratic elegance, not Velasquez with his re- 
 morseless truth, equals this marvelous Dutchman, who 
 gives us the whole man with all that joy and suflfering, 
 passion and thought have etched upon his lineaments. 
 Had he possessed the vision of ideal beauty, Rembrandt 
 woiild have been the greatest of painters. As it is, none 
 is his superior, and only a few can be placed beside him. 
 
 THE END 
 
INDEX 
 
 Academia Leonardo da Vinci, 38 
 Adam and Eve, Titian, 173 
 Adoration of Kings, Leonardo, 
 
 Adoration of Kings, Rubens, 205, 
 
 ^243 
 
 Adoration of Kings, Velasquez, 
 260 
 
 Adoration of Shepherds, Rem- 
 brandt, 339. 
 
 Adoration of Shepherds, Velas- 
 quez, 260 
 
 Aerschot, Duke of, 247 
 
 jEsop, Velasquez, 298 
 
 Aguador, Velasquez, 259 
 
 Albert, Archduke, 189, 195, 200, 
 204, 206, 21S, 217, 228 
 
 Aldobrandini Marriage, 200 
 
 Alexander VI, 47, 143, 163, 164 
 
 Alfani Domenico, 99 
 
 Alfonso, see Este 
 
 Allegory of Louvre, Titian, 158 
 
 Altoviti, Bindo, 98, 107 
 
 Alva, Duke of, 184, 247 
 
 Amboise, Charles d', patron of 
 Leonardo, 54; death of, 56 
 
 Ambrose, St., and Theodosius, 
 Rubens, 217 
 
 Amsterdam in Rembrandt's time, 
 
 314 
 Anatomy Lesson, Rembrandt, 
 
 318 
 Andromeda, Rubens, 240, 245, 
 
 250 
 Angelico, Fra, 11 
 Anne of Saxony, 184 
 Annunciations, Leonardo, 20, 21 
 Annunciation, Titian, 148 
 Anthony, St., visiting St. Paul, 
 
 Velasquez, 300 
 
 Antonello da Messina, 131 
 Antwerp in Rubens' day, 187, 
 
 204 
 Apollo and Marsyas, Raphael, 78 
 Aretino, Pietro, claims friend- 
 ship with Raphael, 97; friend 
 of Titian, 145, 151, 152, 154, 
 162, 174; his death, 176 
 Ariosto, 93, 138, 14s 
 Artemisia, Rembrandt, 331 
 Arundel, Earl of, 237 
 Ascension, Rembrandt, 319 
 Assumption, Rubens, 243 
 Assumption, Titian, 147 
 Atri, Duke of, Titian, 176 
 Augsburg in Titian's day, 170 
 
 B 
 
 Bacchanal, Titian, 144 
 Bacchus, Leonardo, 55 
 Bacchus and Ariadne, Titian, 144 
 Baglioni, The, 69, 75, 82 
 Balthazar-Carlos, Infante, 278, 
 
 284, 287 
 Baptism of Christ, Leonardo, 9 
 Baptism of Christ, Titian, 137 
 Baroccio, 195 
 Bartolommeo, Fra, 43; influence 
 
 on Raphael, 86 
 Bas, Elizabeth, Rembrandt, 342 
 Battle of Cadorf, Titian, 142 
 Battle of Constantine, Raphael, 
 
 I2S 
 
 Battle of Lepanto, 180 
 
 Battle of the Standard, Leonar- 
 do, 48, 193 
 
 Beatrice, see Este 
 
 Beatis, Antonio di, description 
 of Leonardo, 59 
 
 Bella, Titian, 161 
 
 Belle Jardiniere, Raphael, 88 
 
 359 
 
360 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Bellini, Gentile, 130, 131 
 Bellini, Giovanni, 130, 131, 132, 
 
 134, 140, 141, 146 
 Bembo, 96, 126, 161 
 Bernini, sSg 
 Beruete, 284, 303 
 Bibbiena, 96; his bath-room, 119 
 Boar Hunt, Velasquez, 282 
 Bode, Dr., 20, lOi, 356 
 Boll, F., 330 
 Bolswert, 227 
 Bonifaccio, 146 
 Borgia, Caesar, 41, 46, 47, 65, 70, 
 
 ^ '43. ^ 
 
 Borgia, Lucretia, 142 
 
 Borrachos, Los, Velasquez, 272 
 
 Botticelli, 11, 43, 78 
 
 Boy of Vallecas, Velasquez, 296 
 
 Braraante, 26, 57, 91, 92, 93, 95, 
 
 98, 104, no 
 Bramantino, 92, 105 
 Brant, Isabella, 207, 231, 241 
 Brazen Serpent, Rubens, 249 
 Brueghel, " Velvet," 214 
 Brunelleschi, 7 
 Buckingham, Duke of, 229, 233, 
 
 234. 237 
 Buen Retire, 282 
 Burning of Borgo, Raphael, 117 
 
 Cadore, 127 
 
 Calderon, 270 
 
 Calvo, Marco Fabio, in 
 
 Campagnola, Domenico, 139 
 
 Cano, Alonso, 23s, 277, 296 
 
 Caravaggio, influence on Rubens, 
 194, 199, 200, 243 
 
 Carducho, Vincenzo, 268 
 
 Castiglione, Baldassare, 67, 87, 
 95, no, ni 
 
 Catharine, Saint, Raphael, 89 
 
 Catarina, mother of Leonardo, Si 
 6, so 
 
 Cavenaghi, Cav., 31 
 
 Carlisle, Earl of, 237 
 
 Castor and Pollux carrying off 
 Daughters of Leucippus, Ru- 
 bens, 221 
 
 Caxesi, Eugenio, 269 
 
 Cecilia, Saint, Raphael, iiS 
 Cecilia, Saint, Rubens, 245 
 Cellini, Benvenuto, S9 
 Chapeau de Foil, Rubens, 220 
 Charlea I, 122, patron of Rubens, 
 233.' 237, 238; portrait by Ve- 
 lasquez, 26s 
 Charles V, becomes patron of 
 Titian, IS7; calls Titian to 
 Milan and Busseto, 162; calls 
 Titian to Augsburg, 169; por- 
 traits of him by Titian, 157, 
 171; recalls Titian to Augs- 
 burg, 173; his death, 178; his 
 exumation, 294 
 Chase, W. M., 254 
 Chigi, Agostino, 98, 114, 115, 122 
 Christ bound to Column, Velas- 
 quez, 280 
 Christ at Etnmaus, Rembrandt, 
 
 342 
 Christ in House of Martha, Ve- 
 lasquez, 261, 298 
 Ciarla, Simone di, 68, 112 
 Clement VII, 124, 157, 159, 160 
 Cleopatra, Rembrandt, 331 
 Cimon and Iphigenia, Rubens, 
 
 24s 
 
 Coello, Sanchez, 180 
 
 Communion of St. Francis, Ru- 
 bens, 217 
 
 Concert, Titian, 137 
 
 Concorde du Pays, Rembrandt, 
 
 344 
 
 Constable, 275 
 
 Conti, Sigismondo, 106 
 
 Conversion of St. Paul, Rubens, 
 218 
 
 Cook, Herbert, 127, 134 
 
 Copernicus, 35 
 
 Coppenol, 327, 3S3 
 
 Cordes, Jacqueline de, 220 
 
 Cornelisz, L., 330 
 
 Coronation of Charlemange, Ra- 
 phael, 117 
 
 Coronation of Virgin, Raphael, 
 76 
 
 Coronation of Virgin, Velasquez, 
 300 
 
 Corot, 27s 
 
 Correggio, 120, 176^ 199 
 
INDEX 
 
 361 
 
 Corsali, Andrea, 17 
 Coup de Lance, Rubens, 217 
 Cranach, Lucas, 172 
 Creation of Eve, Raphael, 71 
 Creation of Planets, Raphael, 123 
 Crivelli, Lucrezia, 32 
 Crow and Cavacaselle, 69 
 Crucifixions, Raphael, 71, 76 
 Crucifixion, Velasquez, 280 
 
 D 
 
 Danae, Rembrandt, 324 
 
 Danae, Titian, 166, 177 
 
 Davalos, Marquis, patron of 
 Titian, 158 
 
 David playing before Saul, Rem- 
 brandt, 351 
 
 Death of St. Peter Martyr, 
 Titian, 156 
 
 Defeat of Attila, Raphael, 105, 
 109 
 
 Defeat of Saracens, Raphael, 117 
 
 Deliverance of St. Peter, Ra- ^ 
 phael, IDS, 109 
 
 Descent from the Cross, Rem- 
 brandt, 319 
 
 Descent from the Cross, Rubens, 
 210 
 
 Desiderio da Settignaho, 11 
 
 Diana and Actaeon, Rubens, 250 
 
 Diana and Callisto, Rubens, 250 
 
 Diana and Callisto, Titian, 173 
 
 Dianti, Laura, 143 
 
 Dircx, Geertje, 344 
 
 Dispute, Raphael, 92 
 
 Domenichino, 200, 276, 
 
 Donatello, 11 
 
 Doni, Angelo and Maddalena, 84 
 
 Donna Velata, 101 
 
 Dossi, Dosso, 149 
 
 Dou, Gerard, 312 
 
 Drinking Satyr, Rubens, 202 
 
 Drunken Hercules, Rubens, 202 
 
 Dupuis, Pierre, 230, 232 
 
 Diirer, Albert, 116, 120, 143, 33S 
 
 Earthly Paradise, Rubens, 214 
 Eckhout, van der, 330 
 
 Elevation of the Cross, Rem- 
 brandt, 319 
 
 Elevation of the Cross, Rubens, 
 208 
 
 Entombment, Titian, 148 
 
 Erecthonius and Daughters of 
 Cecrops, Rubens, 221 
 
 Este, Alfonso d', patron of 
 Titian, i^, 144, 149, 160 
 
 Este, Beatrice d', 32 
 
 Este, Ercole d', 28, 160 
 
 Este, Isabella d', visited by 
 Leonardo, 42; painted by 
 Titian, 159 
 
 Europa, Rape of, Titian, 173 
 
 Everdingen, 251 
 
 F 
 
 Fabritius, Carel, 341 
 
 Fall of the Damned, Rubens, 219 
 
 Fall of Rebel Angels, Rubens, 
 
 219 
 Fame crowning Hero, Rubens, 
 
 202 
 
 Farnese, Pier Luigi, 163, 169 
 Ferdinand, Archduke, 247, 265 
 Ferroniere, la Belle, Leonardo, 
 
 32 
 Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, 8 
 Flight into Egypt, Rubens, 221 
 Flink, Govert, 330 
 Flora, Rembrandt, 323 
 Flora, Titian, 146 
 Florence in days of Lorenzo the 
 
 Magnificent, 10 
 Florence in Raphael's day, 78 
 Florence after Savonarola, 42 
 Florence, Student life in, 12 
 Foix, Gaston de, 56 
 Fornarina, Raphael, 100 
 Fondaco dei Tedeschi, Titian's 
 
 work on, 133 
 Fonseca y Figueroa, 264, 265 
 Forge of Vulcan, Velasquez, 276 
 Fourment, Helen, 239, 252, 253 
 Four Quarters of Globe, Rubens, 
 
 203, 220 
 Francesco, brother to Titian, 
 
 129, 178 
 Francesca, Piero della, 92, 105 
 
362 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Francia, 118 
 
 Francis I, 46, 58, 117; portrait by 
 
 Titian, 159 
 Frederick Henry, Stadbolder, 
 
 319, 339 
 Fromentin, E., 356 
 
 Galatea, Raphael, 115 
 
 Gallerani, Cecilia, 27, 3a 
 
 Gallileo, 35 
 
 Ganymede, Rembrandt, 332 
 
 Garden of Love, Rubens, 249 
 
 Garland of Fruit, Rubens, 215 
 
 Gelder, Aert de, 353 
 
 George, St., Raphael, 71, 87 
 
 Gerritsz, Harmen, 306, 312 
 
 Gevaert^ 231 
 
 Ghiberti, 9, 12 , 
 
 Ghirlandajo, Domenico, 11 
 
 Ghirlandajo, Ridolfo, 21, 43 
 
 Giorgione, his influence on Ti- 
 tian, 132, 133, 137, 138, 146 
 
 Giotto, 8 
 
 Girl in Fur Cloak, Titian, 161 
 
 Gloria, Titian, 172 
 
 Gongora, Luis de, 264 
 
 Gonzaga, Elisabetta, 66 
 
 Gonzaga, Federigo, patron of 
 Titian, 150, 152, 157, 161 
 
 Gonzaga, Vincenzo, patron oi 
 Rubens, 191, 193, 194, 196, 200 
 
 Gonzales, Bartolome, 268 
 
 Goritz, Johannes, 97 
 
 Goya, 304 
 
 Gozzoli, Benozzo, 11 
 
 Graces, Rubens, 245 
 
 Granvelle, Cardinal, 179 
 
 Grimani, D6ge, adoring Religion, 
 Titian, 178 
 
 Guercino, 200, 276 
 
 Gypsy Madonna, Titian, 134 
 
 H 
 
 Haro, Luis de,_ 286, 301 
 Heliodorus driven from Temple, 
 
 Raphael, 105 
 Hendrickje, see Stoffels 
 Henry HI of France, 179 
 
 i 
 
 Henry IV of France, 193, 263 
 
 Herrera, Francisco de. Master 
 of Velasquez, 257, 277 
 
 Holbein, 222 
 
 Hogarth, 225, 249 
 
 Holy Family of Dresden, Titian, 
 145 
 
 Holy Family of Francis I, Ra- 
 phael, 123 
 
 Homage to Venus, Rubens, 244 
 
 Homage to Venus, Titian, 144 
 
 Hoogstraaten, van, 341 
 
 Horrors of War, Rubens, 251 
 
 Houbraken, 309 
 
 Hours, Raphael, 120 
 
 Huygens, 310 
 
 Idiot of Coria, Velasquez, 296 
 Ildefonso, St., AUarpiece, Ru- 
 bens, 217 
 Infant Christ and St. John, Ru- 
 bens, 21S, 216 
 Inghirami, Tomaso,-97 
 Innocent X, 289 
 Isabella de Bourbon, 263, 286 
 Isabella d' Este, see Este 
 Isabella, Infanta, 189, 206, 217, 
 
 228, 234, 23s, 236, 246, 247 
 Isabella of Portugal, 162 
 
 Jacopo Pesaro adorning St. Pe- 
 ter, Titian, 134 
 Jerome, Saint, Leonardo, 21 
 Jerome, Saint, Titian, 156, 179 
 Jesuits, patrons of Rubens, 216 
 Jewish Bride, Rembrandt, 321, 
 
 331, 352 
 John Frederick of Saxony, 169, 
 
 171 
 John, Saint, Leonardo, 61 
 Joseph's Coat, Velasquez, 276, 
 
 294 
 Judgment of Paris, Rubens, 240, 
 
 245. 250 
 Julius II, 66, 102, 105, 106, 139; 
 his character, 90; portraits, 
 Raphael, loi ; his death, 107 
 
INDEX 
 
 363 
 
 Jupiter and Antiope, Titian, 173, 
 
 180 
 Jurisprudence, Raphael, 94 
 
 K 
 
 Kermesse, Rubens, 249 
 Koninck, P. de, 330, 341 
 
 Lady at Berlin, Velasquez, 285 
 Lady with Fan, Velasqijez, 285 
 Lady in Prado, Velasquez, 285 
 Lancret, 249 
 Lamas, Ims, 282 
 Last Judgment, Rubens, 219 
 Last Supper, Leonardo, 29 
 Lastman, Peter, master of Rem- 
 brandt, 308 
 Lavinia, daughter of Titian, 150, 
 
 168 
 Leda, Leonardo, 50 
 Leno, Giuliano, iii 
 Leo X, 56, 107, 116, 119, 140 
 Leonardo da Vinci, ancestry, 4; 
 birth, s; personal appearance 
 and character, 6, 16; enters 
 Verrocchio's _ studio, 7 ; Bap- 
 tism of Christ, 9; leaves fa- 
 ther's house, 13 ; Medusa, 13 ; 
 second Medusa, 15; his man- 
 ner of writing, 16; commission 
 for Palazzo Vecchio, 18; 
 Adoration of Kings, 19; Ma- 
 donna of the Rocks, 19; An- 
 nunciations, 20, 21 ; St. Jerome, 
 22; reasons for leaving Flor- 
 ence, 22; supposed journey in 
 the Orient, 23; goes to Milan, 
 25 ; statue of Francesco Sforza, 
 27; Last Supper, 29; La Belle 
 Ferroniere, 32; Madonna Lit- 
 *". 33; organizer of pageants, 
 33 ; Sala delle Asse, 33 ; his ar- 
 tistic bent, 34 ;_ his scientiiic 
 discoveries and inventions, 3S_; 
 Academia Leonardo da Vinci, 
 38; Treatise on Painting, 38; 
 painting of hair, 39 ; returnsto 
 Florence, 42; encounter with 
 
 Michelangelo, 43; his life in 
 Florence, 45; enters service of 
 Caesar Borgia, 46; Battle of 
 the Standard, 48; on commis- 
 sion to locate the David, 49; 
 loses father and mother, 50; 
 lawsuits with brothers, 50, SS; 
 Mona Lisa, 50; Leda, 53; en- 
 ters service of Louis XII, 54; 
 Bacchus, 55 ; at Rome, 57 ; en- 
 ters service of Francis I, 58; 
 goes to France, 59; appearance 
 in age, 59; St. John, 61; his 
 death and testament, 62; influ- 
 ence on Raphael, 80, 85, 87 
 
 Lerma, Duke of, 196, 197, 198, 
 261, 263 
 
 Lessing, 231 
 
 Leyden in days of Rembrandt, 
 .305, 306 
 
 Lievens, 310 
 
 Lion Hunt, Rubens, 214, 220 
 
 Lippi, Filippo, 11 
 
 Lippi, Filippino, 43, 45 
 
 Loggie, see Vatican 
 
 Lorenzo di Credi, 8, 21, 43 
 
 Lotto, Lorenzo, 146 
 
 Louis XII of France, 40, 41, 42, 
 S4 
 
 Louis XIII of France, 228, 263 
 
 Louis XIV of France, 123, 301, 
 302 
 
 Lucas van Leyden, 305, 310 
 
 Ludovico, see Moro 
 
 Luther, Martin, loi 
 
 M 
 
 Maderna, Carlo, iii 
 
 Madonna with St. Anne, Leonar- 
 do, 45 
 
 Madonna degh Ansidei, Raphael, 
 82 
 
 Madonna with St. Anthony, Ti- 
 tian, 134 
 
 Madonna di St. Antonio, Ra- 
 phael, 81 
 
 Madonna del Baldacchino, Ra- 
 phael, 89 
 
 Madonna Canigiani, Raphael, 88 
 
3,64 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Madonna with St. Catherine, 
 
 Titian, 156 
 Madonna with Cherries, Titian, 
 
 I3S 
 
 Madonna of the Diadem, Ra- 
 phael, 102 
 
 Madonna del Divino Amore, Ra- 
 phael, 107 
 
 Madonna of the Pish, Raphael, 
 116 
 
 Madonna di Foligno, Raphael, 
 106 
 
 Madonna with St. Jerome and 
 St. Francis, Raphael, 72 
 
 Madonna of the Goldfinch, Ra- 
 phael, 87 
 
 Madonna del Gran Duca, Ra- 
 phael, 85 
 
 Madonna of House of Alba, Ra- 
 phael, 102 
 
 Madonna dell' Impannata, Ra- 
 phael, 107 
 
 Madonna of the Lamb, Raphael, 
 116 
 
 Madonna Litta, Leonardo, 33 
 
 Madonna of the Meadow, Ra- 
 phael, 88 
 
 Madonna of St. Onofrio, 57 
 
 Madonna of the Rabbit, Titian, 
 IS6 
 
 Madonna of the Rocks, Leonar- 
 do, 19, 20 
 
 Madonna Solly, Raphael, 72 
 
 Madonna della Sedia, Raphael, 
 116 
 
 Madonna Tempi, Raphael, 87 
 
 Madonna di Terranuova, Ra- 
 phael, 87 
 
 Madonna with St. Ulpjias, Titian, 
 
 I3S 
 Magdalen, Rubens, 218 
 Magdalen, Titian, 157 
 Madrid in time of Philip IV, 267 
 Maes, N., 341 
 Malatesta, Sigismondo, 65 
 Man with Baton, Titian, 176 
 Man in Black, Titian, 145 
 Man with the Glove, Titian, 14s 
 Man with Palm, Titian, 176 
 man of Sorrows, Titian ( ?), 134 
 
 Mantegna, Andrea, 132, 192, 193, 
 238 
 
 Mantua in Rubens' day, 192 
 
 Maria, Infanta, 276 
 
 Marianna of Austria, 291 
 
 Marriage of Virgin, Raphael, jj 
 
 Mars, Velasquez, 298 
 
 Martinez-Montanes, 237, 277, 296 
 
 Masaccio, 7, 86 
 
 Massacre of Innocents, Rubens, 
 249 
 
 Mazo del, 264, 284, 303 
 
 Medici, Cosimo, Pater Patriae, 10 
 
 Medici, Cosimo I, is, 168 
 
 Medici, Giuliano, patron of 
 Leonardo, 17, 56, 58, 108 
 
 Medici, Ippolito de', 158 
 
 Medici, Leonora de', 192, 228 
 
 Medici, Lorenzo the Magnificent, 
 12, 21, 25, 42, 93, 207 
 
 Medici, Marie de', 193, 228, 229, 
 246, 26s 
 
 Meizi, Francesco, 55, 59, 62 
 
 Meleager and Atlanta, Rubens, 
 250 
 
 Meninas, Las, Velasquez, 297 
 
 Mercury and Argos, Rubens, 250 
 
 Mercury and Argus, Velasquez, 
 299 
 
 Michael, St., Raphael, 71, 123 
 
 Michel, E., 311, 349 
 
 Michelangelo, 9, 57, 85, 91, 109, 
 156, 163, i6(5, 193, 194; encoun- 
 ter with Leonardo, 28, 43; his 
 David, 49 ; his Battle of Pisa, 
 48, 79; his feeling toward Ra- 
 phael, 80, 98, 104, us; his 
 quarrel with Perugino, 80; his 
 influence on Raphael, 104; his 
 opinion of Titian, 166 
 
 Milan under Lodovico il More, 
 23 
 
 Minerva protecting Peace against 
 War, Rubens, 238 
 
 Mine da Fiesole, 11 
 
 Miracle of Bolsena, Raphael, 105 
 
 Miracles of St. Francis Xavier, 
 216 
 
 Miracles of St. Ignatius, Rubens, 
 216 
 
INDEX 
 
 365 
 
 Moenippus, Velasquez, 298 
 
 Mona Lisa, Leonardo, 50 
 
 Money Changers, Rembrandt, 
 309 
 
 Montefeltro, Federigo di, 65, 67 
 
 Montefeltro, Guidobaldo di, 66, 
 86 
 
 Morelli, 21, 63, 70, loi, 137 
 
 Moretto, 278 
 
 Moro, Ludovico il Moro, his 
 character, 24; Leonardo's let- 
 ter to, 26 ; his marriage, 32 ; his 
 fall, 40 
 
 N 
 
 Nardi, Jacopo, 154, 161 
 
 Nasi, Lorenzo, 84, 87 
 
 Neptune and Amphitrite, Ru- 
 bens, 220 
 
 Night Watch, Rembrandt, 334 
 
 Noort, Adam van, master of Ru- 
 bens, 188 
 
 Nymphs and Satyrs, Rubens, 250 
 
 Nymphs and Fawns, Rubens, 250 
 
 O 
 
 Oath of Leo III, Raphael, 118 
 
 Oddi, Maddalena degli, 76 
 
 Old Woman with Brazier, Ru- 
 bens, 221 
 
 Old Woman with Candle, Ru- 
 bens, 221 
 
 Oliva, Count de, 20S 
 
 Olivares, Duke of, 233, 261, 266, 
 270, 277, 281, 28s 
 
 Orazio, son of Titian, 150, 178, 
 179, 182 
 
 Ostade, 225 
 
 Pacheco, Cardinal, 179 
 Pacheco, Francisco de. Master 
 
 of Velasquez, 257, 260, 262, 
 
 264, 26s 
 Padua, Titian's work at, 139 
 Palazzo Vecchio, Leonardo's 
 
 commission for, 18 
 Palma Vecchio, his influence on 
 
 Titian, 135, 145 
 
 Parma, the Physician, Titian, 
 
 145 
 Parnassus, Raphael, 95 
 Pater, Walter, 52 
 Paul III, his election, 160; his 
 
 character, 163; his portraits 
 
 by Titian, 165 
 Paul, St., in Prison, Rembrandt, 
 
 309 
 Peiresc, Claude Fabri, de, 200, 
 
 230, 231, 237, 239 
 Pelisse, La, Rubens, 240, 244 
 Penni, Giovanni, 104, 119, 126 
 Peruggia in Raphael's days, 69, 
 
 74 
 
 Perugino, 8, 12, 43, 68, 72, 73, 75, 
 77, 80, 82, 92, 102, 149 
 
 Perseus and Andromeda, Ru- 
 bens, 220 
 
 Perseus and Andromeda, Titian, 
 
 173 . 
 
 Peruzzi, IDS 
 
 Pesaro Madonna, Titian, 148 
 
 Philip II, 127, 156, 172, 173, 177, 
 178, 179, 181, 184, 196, 256, 267, 
 318 
 
 Philip III, 180, 196, 197, 261 
 
 Philip IV, relations with Rubens, 
 233, 234, 23s; relations with 
 Velasquez, 261, 263, 266, 268, 
 269, 277, 281, 286, '287, 302, 303 
 
 Philosopher, Rembrandt, 321 
 
 Philosophers, Rubens, 209 
 
 Piero, di Cosimo, 43 
 
 Pieta, Titian, 181 
 
 Pinturicchio, master of Raphael, 
 73, 78, pi, 92, 102 
 
 PoUajuoh, the, 12, 18 
 
 Pomponio, son of Titian, 150, 
 161, 164, 176, 182 
 
 Pont, Paul du, 227 
 
 Poussin, 276, 289 
 
 Presentatum in Temple, Rem- 
 brandt, 312 
 
 Presentation of the Virgin, 
 Titian, 159 
 
 Priscianese, letter about Titian, 
 
 IS4 
 Prometheus, Rubens, 213 
 Pulido de Pereja, 284 
 
366 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Q 
 
 Quevedo, 270 
 
 Quos Ego, Rubens, 248 
 
 R 
 
 -<Ra' 
 
 Raimondi, Marc Antonio, 106 
 pe of Sabines, Rubens, 249 
 ajihael, 34, 57, his ancestry, 64; 
 his birth, 65; his early train- 
 ing, 68; his earliest pictures, 
 71 ; under Perugino and Pin- 
 turicchio, 74; Coronation of 
 Virgin, 76; Marriage of Vir- 
 gin, 77; at Siena, 78; Apollo 
 and Marsyas, 78; goes to 
 Florence, 78; Madonna di 
 Sanf Antonio, 81 ; Madonna 
 degli Ansidei, 82; Trinity, 82; 
 Entombment, 82; Portraits of 
 Angelo and Maddalena Doni, 
 84; Madonna del Gran Duca, 
 85; Madonnas of Terranuova, 
 Tempi and Goldfinch, 87; Ma- 
 donnas of the Meadow and 
 Canigani, 88; La Belle Jardi- 
 niere, Madonna del Baldor- 
 chino, St. Catherine, 88; goes 
 to Rome, 90; Disputa, 92; 
 School of Athens, 93; Parnas- 
 sus and Jurisprudence, 94; his 
 friends, 95; his amours, 99; 
 the Fornarina, 100; Donna 
 Velata, loi ; Portraits of Ju- 
 lius, loi ; Madonnas of House 
 of Alba and of the Diadem, 
 102; his workshop, 102; his 
 house, 104; influence of Mi- 
 chelangelo, 104 ; Heliodorus 
 driven from Temple, Mass of 
 Bolsena, Deliverance of St. 
 Peter and Defeat of Attila, 
 IDS, 109; Madonna di Foligno, 
 106 ; architect of _ St. Peters, 
 110; letter to Castiglione, iii; 
 Sibyls, 114; Madonna della 
 Sedia, 115; Galatea, 115; Ma- 
 donna of the Fish and Lamb, 
 116; Vision of Ezekiel, 116; 
 Burning of Borgo, 116; Cor- 
 
 onation of Charlemagne, 117; 
 Defeat of Saracens, 117; Oath 
 of Leo III, 118; St._ Cecilia, 
 118; inspector of ruins, 119; 
 his Hours, 120; Lo Spasimo, 
 120; Sistine Madonna, lao; 
 Cartoons, 121 ; the Loggie, 
 122; Creation of Planets, 123; 
 Holy Family of Francis I and 
 St. Michael, 123; Transfigura- 
 tion, 124; Battle of Constan- 
 tine, 125 ; death and burial, 
 125; Velasquez's opinion of 
 him, 289 
 
 Reinach, Salomon, 19 
 
 Rembrandt, parentage and birth, 
 30s, 306, 307; his education, 
 308; earliest pictures, 309; his 
 etchings, 309, 317, 330, 341; 
 association with Lievens, 310; 
 his collections, 311; Presenta- 
 tion in Temple, 312; loses his 
 father, 312; his' treatment of 
 Scriptural subjects, 313; Holy 
 Family at Munich, 313; re- 
 moval to Amsterdam, 314; 
 early portraits, 316, 320; Atuit- 
 omy Lesson, 318; Elevation 
 and Descent of Cross, Resur- 
 rection, Ascension, 319, 320; 
 The Philosopher, 321 ; Ship- 
 builder and Wife, 321 ; mar- 
 riage to Saskia, 321, 323; 
 Flora, 321; married life, 324; 
 his homes in Amsterdam, 316, 
 326, 327, 353; suit with Sas- 
 kia's brothers, 327; birth of 
 his children, 326, 327, 328, 334; 
 loses his mother, 328 ; his early 
 style, 329; his pupils, 330, 341, 
 353; Sobieski, 331; Jewish 
 Bride, 321, 331 ; Artemisia, 
 331 ; Sacrifice of Isaac, 331 ; 
 Ganymede, 332 ; Samson 
 threatening his Father-in-law, 
 333; Angel Raphael leaving 
 Tobias, 333; Manoah's Sacri- 
 fice, 334; Night Watch, 334, 
 336; death of Saskia, 334; loss 
 of popularity, 335, 339 ; Adora- 
 tion of Shepherds, 339; later 
 
INDEX 
 
 367 
 
 style, 339, 350; his landscapes, 
 340; Woman taken in Adul- 
 tery, Christ at Emmaus, 342; 
 Elisabeth Bas, 342; financial 
 difficulties and bankruptcy, 
 343, 344. 347. 348, 349; La Con- 
 corde du Pays, 344; Geertje 
 Dircx, 344; relations with 
 Hendrickje Stoffels, 345, 346; 
 Venus and Cupid, 346; David 
 before Saul, the Syndics of 
 the Draper's Guild, 351 ; later 
 portraits, 351 ; Return of 
 Prodigal, 354; death and bur- 
 ial, 355 
 Reni, Guide, 200, 203, 276 
 Repose in Egypt, Titian, 156 
 Resurrection, Rembrandt, 319 
 Return of Prodigal, Rembrandt, 
 
 354 
 
 Ribera, Guiseppe, 277, 288 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal, 233, 234, 
 246, 262, 263. 274 
 
 Richter, Dr., 23 
 
 Rioja, 270 
 
 Robbia, Luca and Andrea, 11 
 
 Rockox, Burgomaster, 210, 216 
 
 Romano, Giulio, 104, 106, 116, 
 122, 123, 126, 192 
 
 Rome under Julius II, 90 
 
 Rome under Leo X, 56 
 
 Romulus and Remus, Rubens, 
 202 
 
 Rooses, Max, 201, 209 
 
 Rosa, Salvator, 289 
 
 Rosselli, Cosimo, 11 
 
 Rovere, Francisco Maria della, 
 66, 89, 117. 160, 165 
 
 Rubens, his ancestry, 183; his 
 birth, 186; his education, 187; 
 goes to Italy, 189; takes 
 service with Duke of Man- 
 tua, 191 ; travels in Italy, 193 ; 
 religious pictures painted in 
 Italy, 195. 198, 199. 200 ;• 
 goes to Spain, 196; returns , 
 to Mantua, 198; his acquire- 
 ments as linguist, 198; meets 
 his brother in Rome, 199; 
 his early pagan pictures, 201; 
 returns to Antwerp, 204; 
 
 Adoration of Kings, 205, 243; 
 appointed court painter, 206; 
 admitted to Guild of Roman- 
 ists, 206; his first marriage, 
 207; Elevation of the Cross, 
 208; his home, 208, 221; the 
 Philosophers, 209 ; Descent 
 from Cross, 210 ; his workshop 
 and method of painting, 211, 
 218; Prometheus, 213; Lion 
 Hunt, Earthly Paradise, 214; 
 pictures of children, 215; 
 patronized by Jesuits, 216; 
 Miracles of St. Ignatius and 
 of St. Francis Xavier, 216 ; Le 
 Coup de Lance, Communion 
 of St. Francis, St. Ambrose 
 and Theodosius, St. Ildefonso 
 Altar piece, 217; Conversion 
 of St. Paul, Magdalen, 218; 
 Fall of Rebel Angels, Last 
 Judgment, Fall of Damned, 
 219; Chapeau de ^oil, Jacque- 
 line de Cordes, Perseus and 
 Andromeda, Neptune and 
 Amphitrite, 220; Erecthonius 
 and Daughters of Cecrops, 
 Castor and Pollux carrying off 
 Daughters of Leucippus, Old 
 Woman with Candle, with 
 Brazier, Venus warming her- 
 self. Flight into Egypt, 221 ; 
 his attainments and mode of 
 life, 222; Processions of Si- 
 lenus, 224 ; his engravers, 225 ; 
 Henry IV and Marie de' 
 Medici series, 228; his writ- 
 ings, 230; loses first wife, 231; 
 mission to Spain, 233; goes to 
 England, 236; decorations for 
 Whitehall, 238; Minerva pro- 
 tecting Peace against War, 
 238; is knighted and returns 
 to Antwerp, 238; second mar- 
 riage, 239; Judgment of Paris, 
 240, 245; Andromeda, 240, 
 245, 250; La Pelisse, 240, 244; 
 his several manners, 243; As- 
 sumption, 243; Homage to 
 Venus, 244; Cimon and Iphi- 
 genia. Three Graces, 245; 
 
368 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Venus and Adonis, 221, 24s; 
 St. Cecilia, 245; insulted by 
 Duke of Aerschot, 24.7; deco- 
 rations for Archduke Ferdi- 
 nand, 247; Quos Ego, 248; 
 buys Chateau de Steen, 248; 
 Garden of Love, Kermesse, 
 Rape of Sabines, Brazen Ser- 
 pent, Massacre of Innocents, 
 249; later mythological pic- 
 tures, 250; Martyrdom of St. 
 Lieven, Ascent to Calvary, 
 2§o; Horrors of War, 251; 
 his landscapes, 251; his death 
 and burial, 252; his relations 
 with Velasquez, 271. 
 
 Rubens, Jan, 183, 184, 185, 186 
 
 Rubens, Marie Pypelinckx, 183, 
 184, i8s, 187, 190, 203 
 
 Rubens, Philip, 187, 196, 199, 
 204, 209 
 
 Rustici, Francesco, relations with 
 Leonardo, 48 
 
 Ruysdael, 251 
 
 Sacred and Profane Love, Ti- 
 tian, 138 
 SacriHce of Isaac, Rembrandt, 
 
 331 
 
 Sala delle Asse, Leonardo, 33 
 
 Saint Gaudens, 28 
 
 Salai, 39, 42, 45, 59 
 
 San Gallo, 12, 57, no 
 
 Sansovino, Jacopo, 153, 154, 167, 
 176 
 
 Samson threatening his father- 
 in-law, Rembrandt, 333 
 
 Sannazaro, 97 
 
 Santi, Giovanni, 67, 68 
 
 Santi, Peruzzolo, 64 
 
 Sargent, John, 254 
 
 Saskia, wife of Rembrandt, 321, 
 322, 323. 324, 32s, 334. 352 
 
 Savonarola, 43, 93 
 
 St. Peters, Raphael made archi- 
 tect of, no 
 
 School of Athens, Raphael, 93 
 
 Schwanenburch, Jacob van, mas- 
 ter of Rembrandt, 308 
 
 Sebastian del Piombo, 165; hos- 
 tility to Raphael, 98, 117, 124; 
 his death, 169 
 
 Sebastian, Saint, Raphael, 76 
 
 Sebastian, Saint, Titian, 149 
 
 Sebastian de Morra, 296 
 
 Selden, 237 
 
 Sellajo, .Leonardo, 122 
 
 Seville in days of Velasquez, 255 
 
 Sforza, Francesco, equestrian 
 statute of, Leonardo, 27 
 
 Shepherd and Shepherdess, Ru- 
 bens, 250 
 
 Shepherd and Shepherdess, Ti- 
 tian, 181 
 
 Shipbuilder and Wife, Rem- 
 brandt, 321 
 
 Sibyls, Raphael, 114 
 
 Siena, visit of Raphael to, 78 
 
 SignoreUi, 92 
 
 Sistine Madonna, Raphael, 120 
 
 Six, Jan, 327, 353 
 
 Snyders, F., 213 
 
 Soderini, Piero, 48, 49, 81, 89 
 
 Sodoma, II, 57, 91, 92, 102 
 
 Spinola, marquis, 223, 271, 283 
 
 Stanze, see Vatican 
 
 Steen, Chateau de, 248 
 
 StofFels, Hendrickje, 345, 346, 
 350, 352 
 
 Strada, Jacopo, Titian, 176 
 
 Strozzi, Roberto, 162 
 
 Spasimo di Sicilia, Raphael, 120 
 
 Supper at Emmaus, Titian, 160 
 
 Supper at Emmaus, Rembrandt, 
 342 
 
 Surrender of Breda, Velasquez, 
 282 
 
 Susannah and Elders, Rubens, 
 250 
 
 Syndics of Drapers' Guild, 
 Rembrandt, 351 
 
 Taddei, Taddeo, 81, 88 
 Taine, H., 147, 255 
 Teniers, 22s 
 
 Three Ages of Man, Titian, 137 
 Tiber and Abundance, Rubens, 
 203 
 
INDEX 
 
 369 
 
 Tintoretto, 146, 156, 218, 222, 
 .274, 288 
 
 Titian; his birth, birthplace and 
 ancestry, 127,; comes to Venice, 
 129; his artistic training, 131; 
 Giorgione's _ influence, 132; 
 Fondaco d,ei Tedeschi, 133; 
 Jacopo Pesaro adoring St. Pe- 
 ter, 134; Man of Sorrows, 
 134; Gypsy Madonna and Ma- 
 donna with St. Anthony, 134; 
 Madonna with St. Ulphas and 
 Madonna with Cherries, 135; 
 Palma Vecchio's influence, 
 13s; The Concert, 137; Bap- 
 tism of Christ, 137; Three 
 Ages of Man, 137 ; Sacred and 
 Profane Love, 138; work at 
 Padua, 139; his broker's 
 patent, 140; Tribute Money, 
 143; Homage to Venus, Bac- 
 chanal and Bacchus and 
 Ariadne, 144; earlier portraits, 
 14s; Holy Family of Dresden, 
 145; as landscapist, 145; as 
 colorist, 146; Flora, 146; 
 Venus Anodyomene, 147; As- 
 sumption, 147 ; Annunciation, 
 148; Pesaro Madonna, 148; 
 St. Sebastian, 149; Entomb- 
 ment, 150; his marriage, 150; 
 his dwelling places in Venice,' 
 153; his manner of life, 154, 
 179; his avarice, 155; Death 
 of St. Peter Martyr, Madonna 
 of Rabbit, Repose in Egypt, 
 Madonna with St. Catherine, 
 156; St. Jerome, 156, 179; 
 meets Charles V at Bologna, 
 157; Allegory of Louvre, 158; 
 portraits of Isabella d' Este 
 and Francis I and Presentation 
 in Temple, 159; Supper at Em- 
 maus, 160; Venus of Tribune, 
 Bella, Girl in Fur Cloak, Ve- 
 nus with Organ Player, 161 ; 
 meets Charles V at Milan and 
 Busseto, 162; portrait of 
 daughter of Roberto Strozzi, 
 162; Crowning with Thorns, 
 162; portrait of Isabella of 
 
 Portugal,. 162; meets Paul III, 
 163 ; is offered the papal seals, 
 165; visits Rome, 165; por- 
 traits of Paul III, 165; Dana, 
 166, 177; returns to Venice, 
 167 ; _ Venus and Cupid of 
 Uffizi, 168; portraits of Lavin- 
 ia, 168; goes to Augsburg, 169; 
 portraits of Charles V, 157, 
 171; portrait of John Freder- 
 ick, 171 ; returns to Venice, 
 172; recalled to Augsburg, 
 172; the Gloria, 172; Venus of 
 Prado, Adam and Eve, Venus 
 and Adonis, Diana and Ac- 
 taeon, Diana and Callisto, Per- 
 seus and Andromeda, Rape of 
 Europa, 173; returns to Ven- 
 ice, 174; his later style, 174; 
 later portraits, 176; kindness 
 to other artists, 176; Doge 
 Grimani adoring Religion, 178 ; 
 Battle of Lepanto, 180; Venus 
 and Nymphs equipping Cupid, 
 Jupiter and Antiope; 180; 
 Shepherd and Shepherdess, 
 Piet&, 181 ; his death and bur- 
 ial, 181 
 
 Titus, son of Rembrandt, 334, 
 
 ^345, 349, 350, 352, 353, 354, 355 
 
 Tobias, Angel leaving, Rem- 
 brandt, 333 
 
 Treatise on Pdnting, Leonardo, 
 38 
 
 Transfiguration, Raphael, 124 
 
 Tribute Money, Titian, 143 
 
 Trinity, Raphael, 82 
 
 Triumph of Casar, Martegna, 
 193. 238 
 
 Tulp, Dr., 318 
 
 Turini, 97 
 
 U 
 
 Udine, Giovanni da, 119, 122, 165 
 Unmerciful Servarit, Rembrandt, 
 
 352 
 Urban VIII, 266 
 Urbino in Raphael's time, 65 
 Uylenborch, Hendrick .van, 316 
 
370 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Vaga, Perino del, 104 
 
 Van Dyck, Anton, 214, 222, 271, 
 
 319. 357 
 
 Vasari, Giorgio, 9, 13, 46, 52, 6s, 
 68, 99, 103, 104, 133. i6s, 166, 
 174 
 
 Vatican Loggie, 122 
 
 Vatican Stanze, 92, 105 
 
 Vecelli, Gregorio, 128 
 
 Veen, Otto van, master of Ru- 
 bens, 189 
 
 Velasquez^ visited by Rubens, 
 23s; his ancestry, 254; his 
 birth, 255; his education, 257; 
 his marriage, 259; his bode- 
 gones, 259 '> Water Seller, 259 ; 
 Immaculate Conception, St. 
 John at Patmos, Adoration of 
 Shepherds, of Kings, 260; 
 Christ in House of Martha, 
 261 ; his daughters, 264 ; first 
 visit to Madrid, 264; settles 
 there, 265; becomes court 
 painter, 266 ; life at court, 267 ; 
 contest with rivals, 268; early 
 portraits, 271 ; Rubens' visit, 
 271 ; Los Borrachos, 272 ; goes 
 to Italy, 273 ; Forge of Vulcan, 
 Joseph's Coat, 276; at Rome 
 and Naples, 2715; meets Ribera, 
 277, 288; returns to Spain, 
 277 ; kindness _ to brother 
 artists, 277; his change of 
 manner, 277; equestrian por- 
 traits of Baltazar Carlos and 
 Olivares, 278; equestrian por- 
 trait of Philip IV, 279; his 
 horses, 279 ; Crucifixion, 
 Christ bound to Column, 280; 
 his offices, 281, 293; Boar 
 Hunt, 282; Surrender of 
 Breda, sSa; portraits of mid- 
 dle period, 283; his dogs, 284; 
 Pulido de Pareja, 284; his fe- 
 male portraits, 284; goes again 
 to Italy, 287; at Rome, 289; 
 portrait of Innocent X, 290; 
 returns to Spain, 291 ; por- 
 traits of Marianna of Austria, 
 
 291 ; made apostentador mayor, 
 293; his Impressionism, 295; 
 portraits of Martinez-Mon- 
 tanes and of the court Jesters, 
 296; Las Meninas, 297; Las 
 Hilanderas, 298 ; Manippus 
 and ^sop. Mars, 298; Mer- 
 cury and Argus, Venus, 299; 
 Coronation of Virgin, St. An- 
 thony visiting St. Paul, 300; 
 marriage of Infanta Teresa, - 
 301 ; death and burial, 303 
 
 Venice, on Titian's arrival, 129; 
 in Rubens' day, 190; in Velas- 
 quez's day, 274, 288 
 
 Venus, Velasquea, 299 
 
 Venus and Adonis, Rubens, 221, 
 245 
 
 Venus and Adonis, Titian, 173, 
 176 
 
 Venus Anodyomene, Titian, 147 
 
 Venus and Cupid, Rembrandt, 
 346 
 
 Venus and Cupid of UfUsi, Ti- 
 tian, 168 
 
 Venus with Mirror, Titian, 179 
 
 Venus and Nymphs equipping 
 Cupid, Titian, 180, 
 
 Venus with Organ Player, Ti- 
 tian, 161 
 
 Venus of Prado, 'Titian, 173 
 
 Venus, Toilet of, Rubens, 202 
 
 Venus of Tribune, Titian, 161 
 
 Venus warming herself, Rubens, 
 221 "i 
 
 Veronese, Paul, 146, 149, 160, 
 176, 222, 288 
 
 Verrocchio, Andrea, master of 
 Leonardo, 7, 8, 9, 10 
 
 Victors, Jan, 330 
 
 Vinci, Antonio, 4, 5 
 
 Vinci, Leonardo da. See Leonar- 
 do 
 
 Vinci, Piero, S. 14. SO 
 
 Vinci, town of, 3 
 
 Vision of Esekiel, Raphael, 116 
 
 Vision of a Knight, Raphael, 71 
 
 Viti, Timoteo, master of Ra- 
 phael, 70, 102, IIS 
 
 Vorsterhiann, 227 
 
INDEX 371 
 
 W Y 
 
 Water Seller, Velasquez, 259 Young Englishman, Titian, 14s 
 
 Watteau, 249 
 
 William the Silent, 184, 185, 186, Z 
 
 306 
 Whistler, 254 Zom, 254 
 
 Woman taken in Adultery, Rem- Zuccato, Sebastiano, 131 
 
 brandt, 342 Zurbaran, 23s, 260, 277 
 
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