by Rembrandt. Its date has been given 1649-1650, when it is said in a
Life of the painter that Turenne passed a month in Holland, and this
picture was most probably painted. It was bought in 1740 by the Earl of
Grantham (father-in-law to the second Earl Cowper) from a private
collection at Amsterdam.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_No. 2._
THREE CHILDREN, ARCHDUCHESSES OF AUSTRIA.
_White quilted frocks. One child holds a bird. One is in a cradle with a
blue coverlet._
BY TITIAN.
------------------
_No. 3._
ANDREA VANNUCCHI DETTO DEL SARTO.
_Seated writing at a table, with striped cover. Black dress and cap._
BORN 1488, DIED 1530.
BY HIMSELF.
HE was the son of a tailor in Florence; and this trade, which is so
often (for one reason or another) spoken of derisively in England, has
surely gained to Italian ears a species of glorification, from the
sobriquet attached to this illustrious painter. When only seven years
old, the little Andrea was taken from the school where he received
instruction in reading and writing, and placed with a goldsmith in the
city. Even at that tender age his predilection for drawing, and even
designing, showed itself, and, in like manner, his aversion to handling
the mechanical instruments used in the handicraft. Indeed, the boy’s
drawings were so clever as to attract the attention of one Gian Barile,
a Florentine painter; so much so, that he did not rest until he had
secured Andrea for his own studio; and as old Vasari quaintly says, ‘No
sooner did the boy begin to exercise himself in the art of painting than
he acknowledged that Nature had created him for that employment.’ In a
very short space of time, Andrea, or Del Sarto, as he was called,
produced such excellent pieces of colour as to excite the admiration of
his master and all the artists in Florence, more especially Piero
Cosimo, whose works were much esteemed in the city, and who proceeded to
engage Andrea as his pupil. Nothing could be more diligent than the
young man proved himself, studying and copying the cartoons of Michel
Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, etc., which were allotted the scholars as
models; and he surpassed all his fellow-workers in the studio and
academy, with one of whom, Francia Bigio, he soon formed an intimate
friendship. One day, working, as was their custom, side by side, the two
young men began to compare notes, with respect to the manner in which
they were treated by their respective masters; they had each complaints
to make; they were each discontented with their lot. After some little
discussion, they resolved to set up house, or rather to take a room,
together, which they accordingly did, in the Piazza del Grano. Here they
laboured diligently, painting chiefly sacred subjects for galleries,
churches, etc., both in oil and in fresco. There was at that time a
confraternity, ‘Detto del Scalzo,’ whose meetings were held in the Via
Larga. They were formed for the most part of the artificers of the city,
but included men of all classes, who met for charitable and religious
purposes; although not essentially a religious order, they took the name
of The Scalzo, from the fact that when they met in prayer, or to walk in
procession, they went barefoot. This company was most desirous that
Andrea del Sarto should adorn the walls of their court with paintings
from the life of their patron saint, St. John the Baptist. The company
was not very wealthy, neither was our painter grasping, whatever may
have been said of him later on, when subjected to a bad influence. He
cheerfully undertook the work for a small remuneration, and reaped his
reward, for these frescoes added so considerably to his fame that
innumerable orders came in from all sides. He now moved to better
quarters (in company with Francia Bigio), from the Piazza del Grano to a
house situated in the neighbourhood of the Annunziata, where he made
acquaintance with Jacopo Tatti, better known as the celebrated
Sansovino, in whose society and conversation Andrea took so much delight
that the two young enthusiasts in art became almost inseparable. Del
Sarto was now gaining a good income, and might have been happy in the
company of his friends, and the pursuit of his beloved art, but for a
false step which involved his whole life in ruin and disaster. In the
Via San Gallo lived a certain hatter, who had married Lucrezia
Bartolommeo de Fede, the daughter of indigent and ill-conditioned
parents. She was a young woman of exceeding beauty, violent and arrogant
by nature, exercising a tyrannical influence over her many admirers, of
whom Andrea was one of the most infatuated. Unfortunately for our
painter, the husband died suddenly, and nothing would content Del Sarto
but he would immediately espouse his inamorata. From the very beginning
of their married life she possessed such a mastery over him that he was
her slave in everything, and spent all his time and money on her and her
relations, neglecting, in consequence, his own aged parents, whom he had
hitherto supported. His friends shunned his society, his servants
quitted his service, so ungenial and unamiable was the behaviour of
Lucrezia.
The fame of Del Sarto’s great talent had reached the ears of Francis I.,
King of France, who gave him orders for pictures, and invited him to
Paris—a proposition which smiled upon Andrea; but he was detained in
Florence to assist in the splendid decorations of the city, in which all
the painters, sculptors, and architects were employed, to celebrate the
triumphal entry of Pope Leo X., of the house of Medici; and the
beautiful works of Andrea on this occasion inspired his Holiness with
unqualified admiration. The unworthy woman to whom he was united
interfered with his advancement in every way; although unable to throw
off the spell by which she bound him, he began to find her tyranny
irksome, and he listened to the advice of a friend, who bade him
separate from her for a season, and assert his independence. This was in
1518, when Francis I., having renewed his invitation to our painter to
enter his service, Del Sarto gladly accepted the money which had been
sent him for the journey, and proceeded to Paris, where the King
received him with every mark of distinction, and gave him a settled
salary, together with gifts and garments of most costly description.
Caressed and admired by the monarch and his whole Court, Andrea set to
work in high spirits, and began, as it were, a new life. Amongst other
pictures, he painted one of the King’s infant son, in rich
swaddling-clothes, which so delighted Francis that he gave the artist on
the spot three hundred dollars. This was a happy period in Andrea’s
life; he painted numerous portraits and historical and sacred pictures
for the King and his courtiers, and was much esteemed by all. These
halcyon days were not destined to be of long duration. He was occupied
in finishing a St. Jerome for the Queen-Mother when he received a letter
from his evil genius; in this epistle Lucrezia appealed to his
affection, his compassion, his duty as a husband, coaxing, menacing,
exciting his easily roused feelings, and working on them so strongly as
to make him seek the Royal presence and ask leave of absence, promising
to return shortly with his wife, and to bring with him some fine works
of painting and sculpture. He pledged his solemn word to this effect,
and the generous-hearted King furnished him with fresh funds for the
journey and the commission.
On his arrival in Florence, once more under the sway of his unworthy
wife, Andrea gave in to her every wish, and with the money that he had
made, and, it is also to be feared, the sums intrusted to him by the
French King, he built a house, and lavished large sums on Lucrezia and
her family, still to the detriment of his own parents. When the time of
his leave had expired, he made a feeble attempt to return to his duty,
but he could not withstand the prayers, tears, and expostulations of his
wife, and thus broke his plighted word, and relinquished his hopes of
honourable advancement in France. The King, exasperated at such conduct,
expressed himself in most indignant terms, and vowed he would never
harbour another painter from Florence. Thus was Andrea hurled from a
high and honourable estate by the wicked woman he had made his wife,—the
model for almost every picture he painted, sacred or secular, and whose
lineaments were so vividly impressed on his memory that he often
involuntarily reproduced them on canvas.
Leo X. had given a commission for the ornamentation and decoration of
the dome of the great hall at Poggi a Cajano, one of the Medicean villas
near Florence, to be executed in stucco and frescoes by the best
Florentine artists, and Andrea’s contribution on that occasion is
described in glowing terms by his admirer Vasari. It represented Cæsar
receiving the present of innumerable animals of every description, the
delineation of which, in their truth and variety, could not be
surpassed. He interspersed the birds and beasts with Oriental natives in
picturesque costume, and we quote Vasari’s words, ‘Altre belle fantasie,
lavorate in fresco divinissimamente.’ The choice of this subject was
supposed to convey an allusion to the menagerie of animals which had
been sent to Lorenzo the Magnificent some years before by an Eastern
potentate.
The works at Poggi a Cajano were stopped in consequence of the death of
Pope Leo, and Andrea’s fresco was afterwards finished by Bronzino. He
began bitterly to repent his ingratitude to the French King, and if he
had had the slightest hope of obtaining pardon, he would have risked
going to Paris. Several times he resolved to send some of his best
pictures to the French capital, with the chance of their meeting the
King’s eye, but the idea was relinquished. In 1523 the beautiful city of
Florence and its environs were visited by the plague, which caused a
terrible mortality; but in that country everything that happens seems to
tend to picturesque and poetical results, and all the world knows how
Boccaccio glorified that affliction by the production of his
_Decameron_.
Andrea, with his wife and daughter-in-law, her sister, and a child,
desirous of escaping from the infected neighbourhood, and at the same
time to continue his labours, gladly accepted an order from the nuns of
San Pier de Luco, of the Order of Camaldoli, to paint for them a Pieta
in their convent at Mugello. In consequence of these holy women
caressing and making much of the painter, his wife, and the whole
‘troop,’ he determined to stay on for some time in that place, and set
himself to work with great zeal and delight. Vasari’s descriptions of
the beauty and pathos of these paintings are most eloquent in their
old-world style of expression; we regret we have no space for extracts.
On his return to Florence, Del Sarto resumed his labours, and executed
orders without number, chiefly on sacred subjects. He was as skilful in
his copying as in his original paintings, and a curious anecdote is
given in illustration of this fact.
Frederick, the second Duke of Mantua, in his passage through Florence to
do homage to Pope Clement VII., saw the celebrated portrait of Pope Leo
X., with two Cardinals, the work of the immortal Raphael d’Urbino, with
which he was so much struck, as to excite in him an inordinate desire to
possess that splendid picture; and he made so urgent a request to his
Holiness that Clement knew not how to refuse him, but sent Ottaviano de
Medici, his kinsman, an order to send the painting to Mantua.
This command was received with dismay at Florence,—for was not that
portrait one of the glories of the city? In this strait Ottaviano sent
for Andrea, took counsel with him, and it was arranged between them that
Del Sarto should make an exact copy of this _capo d’ opera_ of Raphael,
which he executed with such skill in every respect,—not only as regarded
the excellence of the drawing and colouring, but also the reproduction
of certain little marks and after-touches and other details,—so much so
that, when completed, Ottaviano himself confessed he could scarcely
detect the original. The two conspirators were delighted with the
success of their scheme, and the Duke was in like manner delighted with
the picture when it was unpacked at Mantua. Giulio Romano, Raphael’s
disciple and own familiar friend, who was there at the time, never
doubted its authenticity for a moment. But there was a small bird of the
air that carried the matter, and this was young Giorgio Vasari, who had
been brought up in the household of the Medici, and who, when asked by
Giulio Romano if he did not think the portrait in question a splendid
work of Raphael, replied that it was indeed splendid, although not the
work of Raphael, but of Andrea del Sarto. ‘As if it were likely,’ said
Giulio, ‘that I should not recognise the painting! Why, I can see the
very touches I myself added to it.’ ‘For all that,’ persisted the youth,
‘this picture is from the hands of Del Sarto, and I saw him working at
it with my own eyes; and I will prove it to you. If you will look at the
back, you will see a mark which shows that it was executed in Florence.’
Giulio Romano turned the picture, and finding the mark which confirmed
Vasari’s words, he could only shrug his shoulders and acknowledge the
wonderful talent of the painter, who had made a perfect facsimile of one
of Raphael’s masterpieces.
Yet one more anecdote, to illustrate the admiration which Andrea’s works
inspired, and we have done.
At the siege of Florence, in 1529, the infuriated soldiery were sacking
the town, especially the sacred buildings. They had already destroyed
the church and belfry of San Salvi, and rushing into the convent,
undisciplined as they were, their attention was arrested by the fresco
of Andrea del Sarto’s Last Supper, by some esteemed the rival of
Leonardo’s Cenacolo at Milan. This divine painting had such an effect on
the minds of those rude men, excited as they were, that, after gazing on
it for a short time in reverence, they left the room in silence, thus
sparing that incomparable work for the wonder and reverence of upwards
of three centuries. After the siege was over, Andrea still cherished a
hope of some day regaining the favour of Francis I., and kept revolving
in his mind how to do so, when he was taken suddenly ill. Some soldiers
who had returned to Florence were said to have brought back the plague,
and food was supposed to have become infected. Whether or not Andrea’s
sickness were of this nature, it is certain he took to his bed, and gave
himself up for lost. His worthless wife fled in terror, leaving him to
die alone, without help or comfort. The brethren Del Scalzo, for whom he
had worked so assiduously, gave him burial, though with great haste and
little ceremony, and a monument was raised to him in the Annunziata by
one of his pupils, with a Latin epitaph, most eulogistic. Lucrezia del
Fede survived Andrea many years, and received payment after his death
for the works of that husband whose life she had helped to make
miserable. Her death took place in 1570.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_No. 4._
PORTRAIT OF AN ITALIAN LADY.
BY ANDREA DEL SARTO.
------------------
_No. 5._
PORTRAIT, SUPPOSED TO BE THAT OF THE FATTORE OF SAN MARCO, AT FLORENCE.
BY ANDREA DEL SARTO.
------------------
_No. 6._
ANDREA DEL SARTO.
_Nearly the same dress and attitude as the former Portrait._
BY HIMSELF.
------------------
_No. 7._
TOMMASO GUIDI, DETTO MASACCIO.
_Bright scarlet suit. Black cap._
BORN 1402, DIED 1443. DATES NOT VERY CERTAIN.
SON of Ser Giovanni Simone, da Castello di San Giovanni, in Val d’Arno.
From his earliest years he cared for nothing but art. Nature designed
him for a painter, and no other amusement or occupation had any charms
for Tommaso. He cared not for money, he did not study his appearance as
is the way with most youths, and from a certain recklessness and lack of
interest in his surroundings, he acquired for himself the epithet of
Masaccio,—most assuredly not from any bad quality that could be
discovered in him, for he was goodness itself. His masters were Masolino
de Panicale in painting, Ghiberti and Donatello in sculpture, and
Brunelleschi in perspective. Could the young aspirant have had more
illustrious teachers?
He worked assiduously, and received many commissions, chiefly for the
decoration of churches, both in Florence and Pisa, the excellence of
which gained him the friendship and patronage of Cosimo de Medici, who
was always ready to encourage merit in any branch, more especially in
the fine arts. When dark days fell on Florence, and Cosimo was exiled,
Masaccio determined to go to Rome and study the antique. The Pope gave
him many orders, and his paintings in Santa Maria Maggiore gained him
lasting fame, and called forth enthusiastic expressions of admiration
from Michel Angelo many years later. Masaccio was very fond of
introducing portraits into his pictures and frescoes, and in this church
he painted Pope Martin and the Emperor Sigismund II. He was busied over
the façade of San Giovanni, when, hearing his friend Cosimo had been
recalled to Florence, he lost no time in joining him. Cosimo gave him
orders innumerable, and the facility with which Masaccio executed them
was only equalled by their excellence. The notice which was taken of him
in high places, and the superiority of his talents, caused great
jealousy among his fellow-artists, but he worked on. In the church of
the Carmine he painted a procession of citizens repairing to the
consecration of the sacred building, introducing therein innumerable
portraits, amongst others his masters, Masolino, Brunelleschi,
Donatello, etc.,—all marvellous, says Vasari, in their truth and beauty.
Later on, in a painting of St. Peter paying tribute, he depicted his own
likeness, taken from the reflection in a looking-glass, which is
described as to the very life.
He was attacked by sudden illness in the midst of his successful career,
under which he soon succumbed, and was buried in the church of the
Carmine without an epitaph on the stone, but Annibal Caro wrote the
following in later years:—
‘Pinsi, e la mia Pittura, al ver, fu pari;
L’ atteggiai, l’ avvivai, le diedi il moto
Le diedi affetto. Insegni il Bonarroto
A tutti gli altri, e da me solo impari.’
------------------
_No. 8._
ALGERNON PERCY, EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
_Black dress. White collar. Blue ribbon._
BORN 1602, DIED 1668.
BY VANDYCK.
THE third son of Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland, by Dorothy,
daughter of Walter Devereux, Earl of Sussex. Educated at Christ Church,
Oxford, under Robert Hughes, the celebrated mathematician, and in 1616
was one of the youthful Knights of the Bath at the creation of Charles,
Prince of Wales.
On the accession of that Prince to the Throne, he was called by writ to
the House of Peers (his father being then alive) as Baron Percy.
He afterwards, as Privy Councillor, attended the King to Scotland for
his coronation, having by that time succeeded to his father’s titles and
estates.
In 1636 he had the command of a noble fleet,—the largest, says Lodge,
since the death of Queen Elizabeth.
Lord Northumberland was much commended for his services in the
expedition against the Dutch fishery, making advantageous terms for the
King of England, after which he turned his time and thoughts to
reforming many abuses then prevalent in the Navy.
In 1637 he was named Lord High Admiral, and in 1639 commander of the
troops marching against the Scots, but was prevented—so he pleaded—from
joining the army by illness, when the real command devolved on the Earl
of Stafford. Clarendon says, ‘Lord Northumberland was chosen for
ornament.’ It appears by a letter to his brother-in-law (Lord Leicester)
that he had most gloomy forebodings as to the result of the enterprise,
which ‘it grieves my soul to be involved in.’ An incident occurred
shortly afterwards, which does not redound to the credit of the Earl of
Northumberland.
We will give an abridged account of Lord Clarendon’s version. Henry
Percy, a zealous Royalist, brother to the Earl of Northumberland, was on
his way to France, on the King’s service, just at the time that the
Commons had petitioned Charles to prohibit any of his servants leaving
England. Striving to embark, he was attacked and wounded by the people
of the Sussex coast, and narrowly escaped with his life to a place of
concealment, whence he wrote to his brother in a private and
confidential manner. Northumberland carried the letter to the House of
Commons (which had already voted an impeachment of high treason against
Henry Percy), and laid the document upon the table. Clarendon makes but
a lame defence for his conduct on the part of the elder brother, who
was, he said, ‘in great trouble how to send Henry in safety beyond seas,
when his wound was cured, he having taken shelter at Northumberland
House.’
But the end of the matter was, that Henry did escape from England, and
there was enmity between the brethren from that day forth. This was the
first time in which Northumberland ‘showed his defection from the King’s
cause, and Charles had been a good friend to him, and laden him with
bounties.’
He acted in direct opposition to the King’s commands, when he obeyed
those of the Parliament, to equip the Royal Navy, and to appoint the
Earl of Warwick Admiral of the Fleet.
In 1642 he resigned his commission of Lord High Admiral, and openly
abandoned his allegiance, siding with the Parliamentarians; and though
their faith was rather shaken in him on one occasion, he was too
valuable an ally to quarrel with.
Northumberland was appointed head of the Commissioners employed to
negotiate with the King, in the several treaties of Oxford, Uxbridge,
etc., and was intrusted with the custody of the Royal children, which he
retained until the King’s death. It would appear that he had at least
the grace to facilitate their interviews with their unhappy and loving
father, and that he cared for the wellbeing of his Royal wards. They
were subsequently committed to the guardianship of his sister, the
Countess of Leicester, and were removed to her Lord’s house of Penshurst
in Kent.
Words, in truth, Lord Northumberland used to prevent the execution of
the King, but his deeds had hastened the catastrophe. We are told he
‘detested the murder.’ Immediately after Charles’s death Northumberland
repaired to his seat at Petworth, in Sussex, where he remained until
1660, when he joined Monck in his exertions to bring about the
Restoration. He held no public office under Charles II., excepting the
Lord-Lieutenancies of Sussex and Northumberland. Clarendon, in a long
character of him, says: ‘His temper and reservedness in discourse got
him the reputation of a wise man. In his own family no one was ever more
absolutely obeyed, or had fewer idle words to answer for;’ and, alluding
to his defection from the Royal cause, ‘After he was first prevailed
upon not to do that which in honour and gratitude he was obliged to, he
was with the more facility led to concur in what in duty and fidelity he
ought not to have done, and so he concurred in all the counsels which
produced the Rebellion, and stayed with them to support it.’
He took great delight in his gardens and plantations at Petworth, where
he resided in the summer, but in the winter he was much in town,
attending to his Parliamentary duties. He had two wives: the first was
Lady Anne Cecil, daughter to Thomas, second Earl of Salisbury. On her
death we hear Lord Northumberland ‘is a very sad man, and his sister
(Lady Leicester) has gone to comfort him.’ By Lady Anne he had five
daughters. His second wife was the second daughter of Theophilus Howard,
second Earl of Suffolk, who brought him in Northumberland House in
London, originally called Northampton House. Sion House had been granted
by the Crown to the ninth Earl. Evelyn went to see it, and thought it
‘pretty, but the garden more celebrated than it deserved.’
By Lady Elizabeth Howard, who long survived her husband, he had an only
son and heir, and a daughter, who died unmarried. Algernon, Earl of
Northumberland, was buried at Petworth, in Sussex.
------------------
_No. 9._
SIR ANTHONY VANDYCK.
_Black dress. White collar._
BORN 1599, DIED 1641.
A HEAD BY HIMSELF.