mistress, and gave him trouble enough.” Again, that “an artist should
never cease to learn.” When told that some one had performed a
remarkable feat in painting with his fingers, he said, “Why don’t the
blockhead use his brush?” When shown Titian’s Danaë, he observed, “What
a pity these Venetians do not study design.” Of the Gates of Ghiberti,
he said, “they are fit to adorn the portals of Paradise.”
WASHINGTON ALLSTON.
“Soon after Allston’s marriage with his first wife, the sister of the
late Dr. Channing, he made his second visit to Europe. After a residence
there of a little more than a year, his pecuniary wants became very
pressing and urgent--more so than at any other period of his life. On
one of these occasions, as he himself used to narrate the event, he was
in his studio, reflecting with a feeling of almost desperation upon his
condition. His conscience seemed to tell him that he had deserved his
afflictions, and drawn them upon himself, by his want of due gratitude
for past favors from heaven. His heart, all at once, seemed filled with
the hope that God would listen to his prayers, if he would offer up his
direct expressions of penitence, and ask for divine aid. He accordingly
locked his door, withdrew to a corner of the room, threw himself upon
his knees, and prayed for a loaf of bread for himself and his wife.
While thus employed, a knock was heard at the door. A feeling of
momentary shame at being detected in this position, and a feeling of
fear lest he might have been observed, induced him to hasten and open
the door. A stranger inquired for Mr. Allston. He was anxious to learn
who was the fortunate purchaser of the painting of “Angel Uriel,”
regarded by the artist as one of his masterpieces, and which had won the
prize at the exhibition of the Academy. He was told that it had not been
sold. “Can it be possible? Not sold! Where is it to be had?” “In this
very room. Here it is,” producing the painting from a corner, and wiping
off the dust. “It is for sale--but its value has never yet, to my idea
of its worth, been adequately appreciated--and I would not part with
it.” “What is its price?” “I have done affixing any nominal sum. I have
always, so far, exceeded my offers. I leave it for you to name the
price.” “Will four hundred pounds be an adequate recompense?” “It is
more than I have ever asked for it.” “Then the painting is mine.” The
stranger introduced himself as the Marquis of Stafford; and he became,
from that moment, one of the warmest friends of Mr. Allston. By him Mr.
A. was introduced to the society of the nobility and gentry; and he
became one of the most favored among the many gifted minds that adorned
the circle, in which he was never fond of appearing often.
“The instantaneous relief thus afforded by the liberality of this noble
visitor, was always regarded by Allston as a direct answer to his
prayer, and it made a deep impression upon his mind. To this event he
was ever after wont to attribute the increase of devotional feelings
which became a prominent trait in his character.”--_Boston Atlas._
ALLSTON’S DEATH.
“Notwithstanding the general respect which is manifested to the memory
of this distinguished artist, there are unsympathising, ice-hearted men
of the world who yet reproach him for uncontrollable events in his
career.
The actions of the painter, the poet, and the musician, are dictated
often by other motives than those impelling the arm of the mechanic, or
the tongue of the advocate. Men of genius are of a more delicate
organization than those possessing inferior abilities, and are swayed by
emotions the most lofty that can actuate humanity. The world’s neglect,
the contempt of critics, depressed spirits induced by pecuniary
embarrassments, blast their hopes, enervate their energies, and deprive
them of the potency to cope with the heartless world.
Men there are who would visit the generous Allston with censure,
because, while laboring under disappointments, ill health, and crushed
anticipations, he failed to finish his painting of Belshazzar’s Feast, a
theme that possibly became uncongenial to his pencil. May their ill
feeling be forgotten, and, if the fountain of their sympathies be not
wholly dried up, may it yield a little lenity towards one of America’s
noblest sons.
It may not be inappropriate to insert a tribute to the memory of
Allston, which will serve to vindicate his character from his aspersers,
and exhibit it as traced by one for many years connected with him by the
dearest ties of friendship:
‘PARIS, November, 1843.
The Duke de Luynes, a French nobleman, has lately given a
commission to Monsieur Ingres, the painter, recently Director of
the French Academy of Arts in Rome, to decorate his palace at
Dampierre with a series of pictures, the subjects of which I have
not heard. One hundred thousand francs are allowed to the artist
for this work. M. Ingres was a student at Rome, pensioned by his
government, at the time Mr. W. Allston and myself were there
pursuing the same studies--not, however, aided by a government.
When the melancholy news of the death of my much regretted friend
and fellow artist reached here, which was about the time the above
favor was granted to M. Ingres, I could not but reflect on the less
fortunate destiny of our highly accomplished countryman, whose
muse, alas! was doomed to linger out a languid existence in a state
of society unfavorable to the arts, or at least where there was
little to encourage and sustain them, compared with the capitals in
Europe where he had lived and studied. Such an indifference to the
arts is not confined to one section of our country, but pervades
the whole United States.
It is indeed a subject of regret that so highly-gifted an artist
should not have been commissioned to ornament some public building,
or private mansion of opulence, with a series of pictures in the
free style of fresco, comprising poetical designs and landscapes,
in which he was so superior, instead of being subjected to finish a
picture which, from some cause, he had become dissatisfied with,
for the prosecution of which he found himself debarred of even the
advantages of models and costume, not to mention those of a less
material nature--the absence of all the great models of art to
kindle and inspire his genius, etc. A work of the kind before
suggested would admit of a free execution, independent in a degree
of models and costume. Such a commission, I am persuaded, would
have cheered up his spirit, and called forth fresh images from his
fancy. It is ever to be regretted that he was not employed in this
way; had he been, our country would no doubt have had a beautiful
creation from a highly cultivated and poetic mind, now forever
lost.
No one who was ever acquainted with the subject of this notice, but
must feel sincere regret, also, that so fair and amiable a
character was not soothed in his latter years with all the ease and
comfort of mind and body that the world could bestow, which thus
far has been seldom if ever the lot of his profession in our
country. How many there are who have not undergone half the
fatigue, physical or mental, endured by Mr. Allston--not to mention
the far greater amount of time and money expended in the
acquisition of his profession than in most other pursuits--yet have
secured to themselves the means to reach the decline of life in a
condition to assure ease and comfort. Such is the unequal
compensation of the world.
When I look back some five or six-and-thirty years, when we were
both in Rome, and next-door neighbors on the _Trinita del Monte_,
and in the spring of life, full of enthusiasm for our art, and
fancying fair prospects awaiting us in after years--and few
certainly had more right than my worthy colleague to look towards
such a futurity--it is painful to reflect how far these hopes have
been from being realized. Such may be the lot of a great many;
still we may believe and hope that so melancholy an example rarely
occurs.
J. VANDERLYN.”
The Art-Union of New-York have struck a commemorative medal, with
Allston’s face on the obverse side; and thus is the great artist
rewarded.
Genius, that breaks the fetters encircling the mind, is fated to drink
life’s bitterest cup to the dregs. After earth has flung the gem away,
she proclaims its value.
Reformers must be martyrs. Every Socrates must quaff his hemlock--every
Burns pine in unpitied poverty. In life, the artist appears on the
reverse side of the world’s medal--in death, on the obverse.”--_Dewey
Fay._
AMERICAN PATRONAGE AT HOME AND ABROAD.
The writer has frequently heard our artists bitterly complain of the
meanness of their countrymen in patronizing everything foreign, not only
at home but abroad. It is mortifying enough to them to see the palaces
of many of our merchant princes _disgraced_, not _adorned_, with a
multitude of modern flashy French pictures, without a single piece by a
native artist. How cutting then must be the slight to those young
artists, who, having gone to Italy for improvement, are visited in their
studios, by their countrymen, who, desirous of bringing home some copies
of favorite pictures, give their commissions to foreigners. Our young
artists, during their residence abroad, are generally poor, and
frequently undergo every privation to enable them to achieve the object
of their ambition. Weir says that at one time during his residence at
Rome, he was obliged “to live on ten cents a day for a month.”
Greenough, during his second visit to Italy, was almost driven to
despair. Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper found him in this deplorable state in
1829, and gave him a commission for his beautiful group of Chanting
Cherubs. He had already distinguished himself by several admirable busts
of John Quincy Adams, Chief Justice Marshall, Henry Clay, and others,
but this was the first commission he had ever received for a group. The
grateful sculptor says in a letter to Mr. Dunlap, “Mr. Fenimore Cooper
saved me from despair, after my second return to Italy. He employed me
as I wished to be employed; and has, up to this moment, been a father to
me in kindness.”
Mr. Cooper, in a letter published in the New-York American, April 30,
1831, says:
“Most of our people, who come to Italy, employ the artists of the
country to make copies, under the impression that they will be both
cheaper and better, than those done by Americans, studying here. My own
observation has led me to adopt a different course. I am well assured
that few things are done for us by Europeans, under the same sense of
responsibility, as when they work for customers near home. The very
occupation of the copyist, infers some want of that original capacity,
without which no man can impart to a work, however exact it may be in
its mechanical details, the charm of expression. In the case of Mr.
Greenough, I was led even to try the experiment of an original. The
difference in value between an original and a copy is so greatly in
favor of the former, with anything like approach to success, that I am
surprised that more of our amateurs are not induced to command them. The
little group I have sent home, (the Chanting Cherubs) will always have
an interest that can belong to no other work of the same character. It
is the first effort of a young artist who bids fair to build for himself
a name, and whose life will be connected with the history of the art in
that country which is so soon to occupy such a place in the world. It is
more; it is probably the first group ever completed by an American
sculptor.”
When this beautiful group had been exhibited a sufficient time in the
United States, to bring its merits before the public, Mr. Cooper, in the
hope of influencing the government to employ Greenough on a statue of
Washington, wrote to the President, and to Mr. McLane the Secretary of
the Treasury, strongly urging the plan of a statue of the “Father of his
Country,” by the first American sculptor who had shown himself competent
to so great a task. He was successful, and Congress commissioned
Greenough to execute a statue of Washington for the Capitol. The
sculptor received the intelligence with transports of delight, but when
he had had time for reflection, he modestly began to doubt his ability
to do justice to his subject, and “answer all the expectations of his
friends.” “When I went,” says he, “the other morning, into the large
room in which I propose to execute my statue, I felt like a spoiled boy,
who, after insisting upon riding on horseback, bawled aloud with fright,
at finding himself in the saddle, so far from the ground!”
Is it not a burning shame, that the most gifted artists of this great
and glorious country should be compelled to go abroad to seek both fame
and bread, not fortune? What merchant prince will set his countrymen an
example, and, like Sir George Beaumont, bribe Congress and his fellow
citizens to form a national gallery, by giving a collection of casts
from the antique, first class paintings and engravings, rare works of
art, and a library on art, worth 70,000 guineas? It is a mistaken
opinion, entertained by many, that the fine arts are of little
importance to our country. On the contrary, every person is directly
interested. A foreign writer observes that, “silver-plating in the
United States, is what tin-smithery is in Paris.” Fuseli terms Venice
“the toy-shop of Europe;” better Paris. What a multitude of people are
supported in that great city by the manufacture of ten thousand fabrics,
exquisitely designed and executed. The Parisians have a keen perception
of the beautiful, simply from being educated in a city abounding with
galleries and the best models of art, or as Reynolds terms it, “the
accumulated genius of ages.”
RAFFAELLE SANZIO DI URBINO.
By the general approbation of mankind, this illustrious artist has been
styled “the prince of modern painters.” He is universally acknowledged
to have possessed a greater combination of the excellencies of art than
has fallen to the lot of any other individual. It is a remarkable fact,
mentioned by many artists and writers, that the most capital frescoes of
Raffaelle in the Vatican, do not at first strike the beholder with
surprise, nor satisfy his expectations; but as he begins to study them,
he constantly discovers new beauties, and his admiration continues to
increase with contemplation.
RAFFAELLE’S AMBITION.
Raffaelle was inspired by the most unbounded ambition; the efforts of
Michael Angelo to supplant him only stimulated him to greater exertions;
and, on his death-bed, he thanked God he was born in the days of
Buonarotti. He was instructed in the principles of architecture for six
years by Bramante, that on his death he might succeed him in
superintending the erection of St. Peter’s. He lived among the ancient
sculptures, and derived from them not only the contours, drapery, and
attitudes, but the spirit and principles of the art. Not content with
what he saw at Rome, he employed able artists to copy the remains of
antiquity at Pozzuolo, throughout all Italy, and even in Greece. It is
also probable that he derived much assistance from living artists, whom
he consulted in regard to his compositions. The universal esteem which
he enjoyed, his attractive person, and his engaging manners, which all
authors unite in describing as incomparable, conciliated the favor of
the most eminent men of letters, as Bembo, Castiglione, Giovio,
Navagero, Ariosto, Fulvio, Calcagnini, etc., who set a high value on his
friendship, and were doubtless ready to supply him with many valuable
hints and ideas.
RAFFAELLE AND MICHAEL ANGELO.
“Michael Angelo, his rival,” says Lanzi, “contributed not a little to
the success of Raffaelle. As the contest between Zeuxis and Parrhasius
was beneficial to both, so the rivalship of Buonarotti and Sanzio aided
the fame of Michael Angelo, and produced the paintings in the Sistine
chapel; and at the same time contributed to the celebrity of Raffaelle,
by producing the pictures in the Vatican, and not a few others. Michael
Angelo, disdaining any secondary honors, came to the combat, as it were,
attended by his shield-bearer, for he made drawings in his grand style,
and then gave them to Fra Sebastiano del Piombo, the scholar of
Giorgione, to execute; and, by this means, he hoped that Raffaelle would
never be able to rival his productions, either in design or color.
Raffaelle stood alone, but aimed at producing works with a degree of
perfection beyond the united efforts of Michael Angelo and F.
Sebastiano, combining in himself a fertile imagination, ideal beauty
founded on a correct imitation of the Greek style, grace, ease, amenity,
and a universality of genius in every department of art. The noble
determination of triumphing in such a powerful contest animated him
night and day, and allowed him no respite. It also animated him to
surpass both his rivals and himself in every new work.”
RAFFAELLE’S TRANSFIGURATION.
“This great artist” (Michael Angelo), says Vasari, “had felt some
uneasiness at the growing fame of Raffaelle, and he gladly availed
himself of the powers of Sebastiano del Piombo, as a colorist, in the
hope that, assisted by his designs, he might be enabled to enter the
lists successfully with his illustrious antagonist, if not to drive him
from the field. With this view, he furnished him with the designs for
the Pietà in the church of the Conventuali at Viterbo, and the
Transfiguration and Flagellation, in S. Pietro in Montorio, at Rome,
which, as he was very tedious in the process, occupied him six years.”
It was at this juncture that the Cardinal de Medici commissioned
Raffaelle to paint a picture of the Transfiguration, and in order to
stimulate the rivalry, he engaged Sebastiano to paint one of the
Resurrection of Lazarus, of precisely the same dimensions, for his
Cathedral of Narbonne. That Sebastiano might enter the lists with some
chance of success, he was again assisted by Buonarotti, who composed and
designed the picture. On this occasion, Raffaelle exerted his utmost
powers, triumphed over both his competitors, and produced that immortal
picture which has received the most unqualified approbation of mankind
as the finest picture in the world. Both pictures were publicly
exhibited in competition, and the palm of victory was adjudged to
Raffaelle--the Transfiguration was pronounced inimitable in composition,
in design, in expression, and in grace. This sublime composition
represents the mystery of Christ’s Transfiguration on Mount Tabor. At
the foot of the Mount is assembled a multitude, among whom are the
Disciples of our Lord, endeavoring in vain to relieve a youth from the
dominion of an evil spirit. The various emotions of human doubt,
anxiety, and pity, exhibited in the different figures, present one of
the most pathetic incidents ever conceived; yet this part of the
composition does not fix the attention so much as the principal figure
on the summit of the mountain. There Christ appears elevated in the air,
surrounded with a celestial radiance, between Moses and Elias, while the
three favored Apostles are kneeling in devout astonishment on the
ground. The head and attitude of the Saviour are distinguished by a
divine majesty and sublimity, that is indescribable.
DEATH OF RAFFAELLE.
With his incomparable work of the Transfiguration, ceased the life and
the labors of Raffaelle; he did not live to entirely complete it, and
the few remaining parts were finished by his scholar, Giulio Romano.
While engaged upon it, he was seized with a fever, of which he died on
his birth-day, Good Friday, April 7th, 1520, aged 37 years. His body lay
in state in the chamber where he had been accustomed to paint, and near
the bier was placed the noble picture of the Transfiguration. The
throngs who came to pay their respects to the illustrious artist were
deeply affected; there was not an artist in Rome but was moved to tears
by the sight, and his death was deplored throughout Italy as a national
calamity. The funeral ceremony was performed with great pomp and
solemnity, and his remains were interred in the church of the Rotunda,
otherwise called the Pantheon. The Cardinal Bembo, at the desire of the
Pope, wrote the epitaph which is now inscribed on his tomb.
CHARACTER OF RAFFAELLE.
All cotemporary writers unite in describing Raffaelle as amiable,
modest, kind, and obliging; equally respected and beloved by the high
and the low. His beauty of person and noble countenance inspired
confidence, and strongly prepossessed the beholder in his favor at first
sight. Respectful to the memory of Perugino, and grateful for the
instructions he had received from him, he exerted all his influence
with the Pope, that the works of his master in one of the ceilings of
the Vatican might be spared, when the other paintings were destroyed to
make room for his own embellishments. Just and generous to his
cotemporaries, though not ignorant of their intrigues, he thanked God
that he had been born in the days of Buonarotti. Gracious towards his
pupils, he loved and instructed them as his own sons; courteous even to
strangers, he cheerfully extended his advice to all who asked it, and in
order to make designs for others, or to direct them in their studies, he
had been known to neglect his own works, rather than refuse them his
assistance.
LA BELLA FORNARINA.
Raffaelle was never married, though by no means averse to female
society. The Cardinal da Bibiena offered him his niece, which high
alliance he is said to have declined because the honors of the purple
were held out to him by the Pope, who favored him greatly, and made him
groom of his chamber. Early in life he became attached to a young woman,
the daughter of a baker at Rome, called by way of distinction, La Bella
Fornarina, to whom he was solely and constantly attached, and he left
her in his will sufficient for an independent maintenance. The rest of
his property he bequeathed to a relative in Urbino, and to his favorite
scholars, Giulio Romano, and Gio. Francesco Penni.
THE GENIUS OF RAFFAELLE.
Raffaelle possessed in an eminent degree all the qualities necessary to
constitute a preëminent painter. When we consider the number of his
paintings, and the multitude of his designs, (it is said he left behind
him 287 pictures, and 576 cartoons, drawings, and studies) to which he
devoted so much study, as is shown in his numerous sketches of Madonnas
and Holy Families, &c., and especially his great works in the Vatican,
in which, in many cases, he drew all the figures naked, in order the
better to adapt the drapery and its folds to their respective attitudes;
and further, his supervision of the building of St. Peter’s church, his
admeasurements of the ancient edifices of Rome with exact drawings and
descriptions, the preparation of designs for various churches and
palaces, with several collateral tasks, it seems incredible that even a
long life were sufficient for their execution; and when we further
reflect that he accomplished all this at an age when most men only begin
to distinguish themselves, we are struck with astonishment at the
wonderful fecundity of his genius.
RAFFAELLE’S MODEL FOR HIS FEMALE SAINTS.
“His own Fornarina,” says Lanzi, “assisted him in this object. Her
portrait by Raffaelle’s own hand was formerly in the Barberini Palace,
and it is repeated in many of his Madonnas, in the picture of St.
Cecilia at Bologna, and in many female heads.”
RAFFAELLE’S OIL PAINTINGS.