While Salvator Rosa was on a visit to Florence, and refused all
applications for his pictures he was accidentally taken in to paint what
he so rarely condescended to do a portrait.
There lived in Florence a good old dame of the name of Anna Gaetano, of
some celebrity for keeping a notable inn, over the door of which was
inscribed in large letters, "Al buon vino non bisogna fruscia" (good
wine needs no bush). But it was not the good wines alone of Madonna Anna
that drew to her house some of the most distinguished men of Florence,
and made it particularly the resort of the Cavaliere Oltramontani--her
humor was as racy as her wine; and many of the men of wit and pleasure
about town were in the habit of lounging in the Sala Commune of Dame
Gaetano, merely for the pleasure of drawing her out. Among these were
Lorenzo Lippi and Salvator Rosa; and, although this Tuscan Dame Quickly
was in her seventieth year, hideously ugly, and grotesquely dressed, yet
she was so far from esteeming her age an "antidote to the tender
passion," that she distinguished Salvator Rosa by a preference, which
deemed itself not altogether hopeless of return. Emboldened by his
familiarity and condescension, she had the vanity to solicit him to
paint her portrait, "that she might," she said, "reach posterity by the
hand of the greatest master of the age."
Salvator at first received her proposition as a joke; but perpetually
teased by her reiterated importunities, and provoked by her pertinacity,
he at last exclaimed, "Well, Madonna, I have resolved to comply with
your desire; but with this agreement, that, not to distract my mind
during my work, I desire you will not move from your seat until I have
finished the picture." Madonna, willing to submit to any penalty in
order to obtain an honor which was to immortalize her charms, joyfully
agreed to the proposition; and Salvator, sending for an easel and
painting materials, drew her as she sat before him, to the life. The
portrait was dashed off with the usual rapidity and spirit of the
master, and was a chef d'oeuvre. But when at last the vain and
impatient hostess was permitted to look upon it, she perceived that to a
strong and inveterate likeness the painter had added a long beard; and
that she figured on the canvas as an ancient male pilgrim--a character
admirably suited to her furrowed face, weather-beaten complexion, strong
lineaments, and grey hairs. Her mortified vanity vented itself in the
most violent abuse of the ungallant painter, in rich Tuscan
Billingsgate. Salvator, probably less annoyed by her animosity than
disgusted by her preference, called upon some of her guests to judge
between them. The artists saw only the merits of the picture, the
laughers looked only to the joke. The value affixed to the exquisite
portrait soon reconciled the vanity of the original through her
interest. After the death of Madonna Anna, her portrait was sold by her
heirs at an enormous price, and is said to be still in existence.--_Lady
Morgan._