THE LITERARY CLUB.

The Literary Club was founded by Dr. Johnson in 1764, and among many men of eminence and talent, it numbered Reynolds. His modesty would not permit him to assume to himself the distinction which literature bestows, but his friends knew too well the value of his presence, to lose it by a fastidious observance of the title of the club. Poets, painters, and sculptors are all brothers; and had Reynolds been less eminent in art, his sound sense, varied information, and pleasing manners would have made him an acceptable companion in the most intellectual society.

In 1775, Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his famous portrait of Dr. Johnson, in which he represented him as reading, and near-sighted. This latter circumstance was very displeasing to the “Giant of Literature,” who reproved Reynolds, saying, “It is not friendly to hand down to posterity the imperfections of any man.” But Reynolds, on the contrary, considered it a natural peculiarity which gave additional value to the portrait. Johnson complained of the caricature to Mrs. Thrale, who to console him, said that he would not be known to posterityby his defects only, and that Reynolds had painted for her his own portrait, with the ear-trumpet. He replied, “He may paint himself as deaf as he chooses, but he shall not paint me asblinking Sam.”

“Amidst the applause,” says Cunningham, “which these works obtained for him, the President met with a loss which the world could not repair—Samuel Johnson died on the 13th of December, 1784, full of years and honors. A long, a warm, and a beneficial friendship had subsisted between them. The house and the purse of Reynolds were ever open to Johnson, and the word and the pen of Johnson were equally ready for Reynolds. It was pleasing to contemplate this affectionate brotherhood, and it was sorrowful to see it dissevered. ‘I have three requests to make,’ said Johnson, the day before his death, ‘and I beg that you will attend to them, Sir Joshua. Forgive me thirty pounds, which I borrowed from you—read the Scriptures—and abstain from using your pencil on the Sabbath-day.’ Reynolds promised, and—what is better—remembered his promise?”

We hear much about “poetic inspiration,” and the “poet’s eye in a fine frenzy rolling.” Reynolds use to tell an anecdote of goldsmith calculated to abate our notions about the ardor of composition.

Calling upon the poet one day, he opened the door without ceremony, and found him engaged in the double occupation of tuning a couplet and teaching a pet dog to sit upon its haunches. At one time he would glance at his desk, and at another shake his finger at the dog to make him retain his position. The last lines on the page were still wet; they form a part of the description of Italy:

“By sports like these are all their cares beguiled;The sports of children satisfy the child.”

Goldsmith, with his usual good humor, joined in the laugh caused by his whimsical employment, and acknowledged that his boyish sport with the dog suggested the stanza.

When Dr. Goldsmith published his Deserted Village, he dedicated it to Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the following kind and touching manner. “The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men; he is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to you.”

At a festive meeting, where Johnson, Reynolds, Burke, Garrick, Douglas, and Goldsmith, were conspicuous, the idea of composing a set of extempore epitaphs on one another was started. Garrick offended Goldsmith so much by two very indifferent lines of waggery, that the latter avenged himself by composing the celebrated poem Retaliation, in which he exhibits the characters of his companions with great liveliness and talent. The lines have a melancholy interest, from being the last the author wrote. The character of Sir Joshua Reynolds is drawn with discrimination and judgment—a little flattered, resembling his own portraits, in which the features are a little softened, and the expression a little elevated.

“Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind,He has not left a wiser or better behind;His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand;His manners were gentle, complying, and bland;Still born to improve us in every part,His pencil our faces, his manners our heart.”

Reynolds was a great admirer of Pope. A fan which the poet presented to Martha Blount, and on which he had painted with his own hand the story of Cephalus and Procris, with the motto “Aura Veni,” was to be sold at auction. Reynolds sent a messenger to bid for it as far as thirty guineas, but it was knocked down for two pounds. “See,” said the president to his pupils, who gathered around him, “the painting of Pope;—this must always be the case, when the work is taken up for idleness, and is laid aside when it ceases to amuse; it is like thework of one who paints only for amusement. Those who are resolved to excel, must go to their work, willing or unwilling, morning, noon, and night; they will find it to be no play, but very hard labor.”

This excellent painter, in his boyhood, showed his natural taste for painting, by copying the various prints that fell in his way. His father, a clergyman, thought this an idle passion, which ought not to be encouraged; he esteemed one of these youthful performances worthy of his endorsement, and he wrote underneath it, “Done by Joshua out of pure idleness.” The drawing is still preserved in the family.

Dr. Johnson says that Sir Joshua Reynolds had his first fondness of the art excited by the perusal of Richardson’s Treatise on Painting.

Portraits in the time of Hudson, the master of Reynolds, were usually painted in one attitude—one hand in the waistcoat, and the hat under the arm. A gentleman whose portrait young Reynolds painted, desired to have his hat on his head. The picture was quickly despatched and sent home, when it was discovered that it had two hats, one on the head, and another under the arm!

“What do you ask for this sketch?” said Reynolds to a dealer in old pictures and prints, as he was looking over his portfolio. The shrewd tradesman, observing from his manner that he had found a gem, quickly replied, “Twenty guineas, your honor.” “Twenty pence, I suppose you mean.” “No, sir; it is true I would have sold it for twenty pence this morning; but if you think it worth having, all the world will think it worth buying.” Sir Joshua gave him his price. It was an exquisite drawing by Rubens.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, like many other distinguished artists, was never satisfied with his works, and endeavored to practice his maxim, that “an artist should endeavor to improve over his every performance.” When an eminent French painter was one day praising the excellence of one of his pictures, he said, “Ah! Monsieur, Je ne fais que des ebauches, des ebauches.”—Alas! sir, I can only make sketches, sketches.

Sir Joshua Reynolds has been charged by his enemies with avarice; but there are many instances recorded which show that he possessed a noble and generous heart.

When Gainsborough charged him but sixty guineas for his celebrated picture of the Girl and Pigs, Reynolds, conscious that it was worth much more, gave him one hundred. Hearing that a worthy artist with a large family was in distress, and threatened with arrest, he paid him a visit, and learning that the extent of his debts was but forty pounds, he shook him warmly by the hand as he took his leave, and the artist was astonished to find in his fingers a bank-note of one hundred pounds. When Dayes, an artist of merit, showed him his drawings of a Royal pageant at St. Paul’s, Reynolds complimented him, and said that he had bestowed so much labor upon them that he could not be remunerated by selling them, but told him that if he would publish them he would loan him the necessary funds, and engage to get him a handsome subscription among the nobility.

Reynolds was an ardent lover of his profession, and ever as ready to defend it when assailed, as to add to its honors by his pencil. When Dr. Tucker, the famous Dean of Gloucester, in his discourse before the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, asserted that “a pin-maker was a more valuable member of society than Raffaelle,” Reynolds was greatly nettled, and said, with some asperity, “This is an observation of a very narrow mind; a mind that is confined to themere object of commerce—that sees with a microscopic eye, but a part of the great machine of the economy of life, and thinks that small part which he sees to be the whole. Commerce is the means, not the end of happiness or pleasure; the end is a rational enjoyment by means of arts and sciences. It is therefore the highest degree of folly to set the means in a higher rank of esteem than the end. It is as much as to say that the brick-maker is superior to the architect.” He might have added that the artisan is indebted to the artist for the design of every beautiful fabric, therefore the artist is a more “valuable member of society” than the manufacturer or the merchant.

When Sir Joshua Reynolds made his first tour to Flanders and Holland, he was struck with the brilliancy of coloring which appeared in the works of Rubens, and on his return he said that his own works were deficient in force, in comparison with what he had seen. “On his return from his second tour,” says Sir George Beaumont, “he observed to me that the pictures of Rubens appeared much less brilliant than they had done on the former inspection. He could not for some time account for this circumstance; but when he recollected that when he first saw them he had his note-book in his hand, for the purpose of writing down short remarks, he perceived what had occasioned their now making aless impression than they had done formerly. By the eye passing immediately from the white paper to the picture, the colors derived uncommon richness and warmth; but for want of this foil they afterwards appeared comparatively cold.”

When Haydn, the eminent composer, was in England, one of the princes commissioned Reynolds to paint his portrait. Haydn sat twice, but he soon grew tired, and Reynolds finding he could make nothing out of his “stupid countenance,” communicated the circumstance to his royal highness, who contrived the following stratagem to rouse him. He sent to the painter’s house a beautiful German girl, in the service of the queen. Haydn took his seat, for the third time, and as soon as the conversation began to flag, a curtain rose, and the fair German addressed him in his native language with a most elegant compliment. Haydn, delighted, overwhelmed the enchantress with questions; and Reynolds, rapidly transferring to the canvass his features thus lit up, produced an admirable likeness.

Sir Joshua Reynolds relates the following anecdote, in his “Journey to Flanders and Holland.” He stopped at Mechlin to see the celebrated altar-piece by Rubens in the cathedral, representing theLast Supper. After describing the picture, he proceeds:—

“There is a circumstance belonging to the altar-piece, which may be worth relating, as it shows Rubens’ manner of proceeding in large works. The person who bespoke this picture, a citizen of Mechlin, desired, to avoid the danger of carriage, that it might be painted at Mechlin; to this the painter easily consented, as it was very near his country-seat at Steen. Rubens, having finished his sketch in colors, gave it as usual to one of his scholars, (Van Egmont) and sent him to Mechlin to dead-color from it the great picture. The gentleman, seeing this proceeding, complained that he bespoke a picture of the hand of the master, not of the scholar, and stopped the pupil in his progress. However, Rubens satisfied him that this was always his method of proceeding, and that this piece would be as completely his work as if he had done the whole from the beginning. The citizen was satisfied, and Rubens proceeded with the picture, which appears to me to have no indications of neglect in any part; on the contrary, I think ithas beenone of his best pictures, though those who know this circumstance pretend to see Van Egmont’s inferior genius transpire through Rubens’ touches.”

When he painted the portrait of Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, he wrought his name on theborder of her robe. The great actress, conceiving it to be a piece of classic embroidery, went near to examine it, and seeing the words, smiled. The artist bowed, and said, “I could not lose this opportunity of sending my name to posterity on the hem of your garment.”

Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his letter to Barry, observes, “Whoever has great views, I would recommend to him, whilst at Rome, rather to live on bread and water, than lose advantages which he can never hope to enjoy a second time, and which he will find only in the Vatican.”

When Sir Joshua was elected mayor of Plympton, his native town, he painted an admirable portrait of himself and presented it to the mayor and corporation, and it now hangs in the town-hall. When he sent the picture, he wrote to his friend Sir Wm. Elford, requesting him to put it in a good light, which he did, and to set it off he placed by its side, what he considered to be a bad picture. When Sir William communicated to Reynolds what he had done in order that the excellence of his picture might have a more striking effect, the latter wrote his worthy friend that he was greatly obliged to him for his pains, but that the portrait he so much despised was painted by himself in early life.

In the year 1770, a boy named Buckingham, presuming upon his father’s acquaintance with Sir Joshua Reynolds, called on the president, and asked him if he would have the kindness to paint him a flag to carry in the procession of the next breaking up of the school. Reynolds, whose every hour was worth guineas, smiled, and told the lad to call again at a certain time, and he would see what could be done for him. The boy accordingly called at the set time, and was presented with an elegant flag a yard square, decorated with the King’s coat of arms. The flag was triumphantly carried in procession, an honor as well as a delight to the boys, and a still greater honor to him who painted it, and gave his valuable time to promote their holiday amusements.

Burke, in his eulogy on Reynolds, says, “In full affluence of foreign and domestic fame, admired by the expert in art and by the learned in science, courted by the great, caressed by sovereign powers, and celebrated by distinguished poets, his native humility, modesty, and candor never forsook him, even on surprise or provocation: nor was the least degree of arrogance or assumption visible to the most scrutinizing eye in any part of his conduct or discourse.”

He was fond of seeking into the secrets of the old painters; anddissectedsome of their performances, to ascertain their mode of laying on color and finishing with effect. Titian he conceived to be the great master spirit in portraiture; and no enthusiastic ever sought more incessantly for the secret of the philosopher’s stone than did Reynolds to possess himself of the whole theory and practice of the Venetian. “To possess,” said he, “a real fine picture by that great master—I would sell all my gallery—I would willingly ruin myself.” The capital old paintings of the Venetian school destroyed by Sir Joshua’sdissectionswere not few; and his experiments of this kind can only properly be likened to that of the boy who cut open the bellows to get at the wind! He was ignorant of chemistry, so much so that he sometimes employed mineral colors that reacted in a short time; and also vegetable colors; and he mixed with these various vehicles, as megilips and different kinds of varnishes or glazes, so that he had the misfortune of seeing some of his finest works change and lose all their harmony, or become cracked with unsightly seams. He kept his system of coloring a profound secret. He lived to regret these experiments, and would never permit his pupils to practice them. His method has been largely imitated, not only in England, but in the United States, greatly to the injury of many fineworks and the reputation of the artist. The only true method for excellence and permanence in coloring, is that employed by the great Italian masters, viz: to use well prepared and seasoned canvass; then to lay on a good heavy body-color; to employ only the best mineral colors, which will not chemically react, giving the colors time to harden after laying on each successive coat; and above all, to use no varnishes in the process, nor after the completion of the work, till it is sufficiently hardened by age.

A strong and enthusiastic feeling of a religious character has often inspired the Fine Arts: we owe to such sentiments the finest and purest productions of modern painting. Progress in art, however, implies the study of nature; the study of nature and the exhibition of its results have continually shocked the rigid asceticism of a severe morality—a morality which makes indecency depend on the simple fact of exposure, not on the feeling in which the work is conceived. Scrupulous persons often appear unconscious that in this, as in other things, it is easy to observe the letter, and to violate the spirit. A picture or statue may be perfectly decent, so far as regards drapery, and yet suggest thoughts and ideas far more objectionable than those resulting from the contemplation of figures wholly unclothed. Still, it must be admitted that such a jealousy of the fine artsmight reasonably exist in Italy at the end of the 15th, and the beginning of the 16th centuries, in the days of Alexander VI., Julius II., and Leo X.; when all the abominations of heathenism prevailed at Rome in practice, and when Christianity can hardly be said to have existed more than in theory. It would have been strange, amidst such universal depravity, that Art should escape unsullied by the general pollution. Still, it was against theabusesof art that the efforts of the Catholic church under Paul IV. were directed; and while those efforts gave a somewhat different character to the subjects and to their treatment in later schools, they cannot be said to have acted on either Painting or Sculpture with anyrepressiveforce.

But in Spain the case was wholly different. There was no transient insurrection of a purer morality against the vicious extravagancies of a particular period, but a constant and uniform pressure exerted without intermission on all the means of developing and cultivating the human mind, or of imparting its sentiments to others. Painting and Sculpture came in for their share of restriction, and the nature of the discipline to which they were subjected may be gathered from the work of Pacheco, (Arte de la Pintura) who was appointed in 1618, by a particular commission from the Inquisition, “to denounce the errors committed in pictures of sacred subjects through the ignorance or wickedness of artists.” He was commissioned to “take particular care tovisit and inspect the paintings of sacred subjects which may stand in the public places of Seville, and if anything objectionable appeared in them, to take them before the Inquisition.” His rules, therefore, may properly be received as a fair exponent of the strictures placed upon Art by the Inquisition. In his work upon the Art of Painting, Pacheco censures the nudity of the figures in Michael Angelo’s Last Judgment, as well as other things. Thus he says: “As to placing the damned in the air, fighting as they are one with another, and pulling against the devils, when it is matter of faith that they must want the free gifts of glory, and cannot, therefore, possess the requisite lightness or agility—the impropriety of this mode of exhibiting them is self-evident. With regard, again, to the angels without wings and the saints without clothes, although the former do not possess the one and the latter will not have the other, yet, as angels without wings are unknown to us, and our eyes do not allow us to see the saints without clothes, as we shall hereafter—there can be no doubt, that this again is improper. It is moreover, highly indecent and improper, having regard to their nature, to paint angels with beards.”

On the general question of how an artist is to acquire sufficient skill in the figure, without exposing himself to risks which the Inspector of the Inquisition is bound to deprecate, Pacheco is somewhat embarrassed. “I seem,” he says, “to hear some one asking me, ‘Senor Painter, scrupulous as youare, whilst you place before us the ancient artists as examples, who contemplated the figures of naked women in order to imitate them perfectly, and whilst you charge us to paint as well, what resource do you afford us?’ I would answer, ‘Senor Licentiate, this is what I would do; I would paint the faces and hands from nature, with the requisite beauty and variety, after women of good character; in which, in my opinion, there is no danger. With regard to the other parts, I would avail myself of good pictures, engravings, drawings, models, ancient and modern statues, and the excellent designs of Albert Durer, so that I might choose what was most graceful and best composed without running into danger.’”So it appears that they might profit by the works of other sinners, without incurring the same danger.

Notwithstanding this advice, as the Inquisition always persecuted nudity, Spain was deficient in models from the antique; wherefore Velasquez, the head of the Spanish school, never designed an exquisite figure; and the collection of models and casts which he made in Italy, late in life, was allowed to go to destruction after his death!

In discussing the proper mode of painting the Nativity of Christ, Pacheco says he is always much affected at seeing the infant Jesus represented naked in the arms of his mother! The impropriety of this, he urges, is shown by the consideration that“St. Joseph had an office, and it was not possible that poverty could have obliged him to forego those comforts for his child, which scarcely the meanest beggars are without.” Another fertile subject of dispute among the Spanish artists and theologians, was the number of nails used in the Crucifixion, some arguing for three, and some for four, and drawing their proofs on either side from the vision of some saint!

The precepts as to the proper modes of painting the Virgin, are innumerable. The greatest caution against any approach to nudity is of course requisite. Nay, Pacheco says, “What can be more foreign from the respect which we owe to the purity of Our Lady the Virgin, than to paint her sitting down, with one of her knees placed over the other, and often with her sacred feet uncovered and naked?” We scarcely ever, therefore, see the feet of the Virgin in Spanish pictures. Carducho speaks more particularly on the impropriety of painting the Virgin unshod, since it is manifest that she was in the habit of wearing shoes, as is proved by “the much venerated relic of one of them, from her divine feet, in the Cathedral of Burgos!”

A painter had a penance inflicted on him at Cordova, for painting the Virgin at the foot of the Cross in a hooped petticoat, pointed boddice, and a saffron-colored head-dress; St. John had pantaloons, and a doublet with points. This chastisement Pacheco considers richly deserved. Don Luis Pasqual also erred greatly, in his Marriage of the Virgin, representing her without any mantle, in a Venetian petticoat, fitting very close in the waist, covered with knots of colored ribbon, and with wide round sleeves,—“a dress,” adds Pacheco, “in my opinion highly unbecoming the gravity and dignity of our Sovereign Lady.” Nor were there wanting awful examples of warning to painters, as in the story related by Martin de Roa, in hisState of Souls in Purgatory. “A painter,” so runs the legend, “had executed in youth, at the request of a gentleman, an improper picture. After the painter’s death, this picture was laid to his charge, and it was only by the intercession of those Saints whom he had at various times painted, that he got off with severe torments in Purgatory. Whilst there, however, he contrived to appear to his confessor, and prevailed upon him to go to the gentleman for whom this picture was painted, and entreat him to burn it. The request was complied with, and the painter then got out of Purgatory!”

The author cannot close this too lengthy article without citing the Life of the Virgin written by Maria de Agreda, whose absurd and blasphemous vagaries were “swallowed whole” by the Spanish nation—an unanswerable proof and a fitting result of the blight inflicted by Jesuitism and the Inquisition. Bayle says, “the only wonder is, that the Sorbonne confined itself to saying that her proposition was false, rash, and contrary to the doctrinesof the Gospel, when she taught that God gave the Virgin all he could, and that he could give her all his own attributes, except the essence of the Godhead.” The condemnation of Maria de Agreda’s Life of the Virgin was not carried in the Sorbonne without the greatest opposition and tumult. The book was censured at Rome, notwithstanding all the efforts of the Spanish ambassador. The Spanish feeling, with reference to the Virgin, and more particularly to the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, went far beyond the rest of Papal Europe; it was impossible for the Pope and the French Church to sanction at once the absurdities that Spain was quite ready to adopt. (See Sir Edmund Head’s Hand-Book of the History of the Spanish and French Schools of Painting.)

A most interesting article on the present state of the fine arts in Spain, may be found in the Appendix to Sir Edmund Head’s Hand-Book of the History of the Spanish and French schools of Painting. On the 13th of June, 1844, a Royal ordinance was issued, establishing a Central Commission “de Monumentos Historicos y Artisticos del Reino,” with local or provincial commissions, to act in concert with the former body. The chief object of the Commission was, to report upon the condition of works of art, antiquities, libraries, etc., contained in the numerous convents and monasteries, which had been suppressed, and what measures had been adopted for their preservation. The members of the Commission were divided into three sections, one for libraries and archives, another for painting and sculpture, and a third for architecture and archæology.

The first annual report of the Central Commission to the Secretary of State for the Home Department is printed in pamphlet form, and embraces the proceedings of the Commission from July 1st, 1844, to July 1st, 1845.

“Nothing can be more melancholy than the picture of Spain drawn by this Commission. They tell us that the most valuable contents of the conventual libraries had been thrown away or mutilated, and that thousands of volumes had been sold as waste paper for three or four reals the arroba, and had been exported to enrich foreign libraries. A hope had been entertained of forming collections in each province, of pictures and other works of art; the Commission was soon undeceived as to the possibility of effecting this. Baron Taylor and a host of foreign dealers had in some provinces carried off all they could lay their hands upon; in others the Commissioners tell us, ‘Many of the most esteemed works of art, the glory and ornament of the most sumptuous churches, had perished in their application to the vilest uses; in others scarcely any record was preserved of what had been in existence at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries, and noinventory or catalogue of any kind had been made.’ Our only consolation perhaps is that these books and works of art will be better appreciated in other countries, and we may derive comfort from the views expressed by Madame Hahn-Hahn.[A]“It is clear that in such a state of things the plunder and destruction of pictures must have been enormous. In the summary of the proceedings of theCommission with reference to pictures, which I shall proceed to give, the reader will see that all sorts of obstacles to any claim of the central government were raised by the local authorities; such a course was sometimes no doubt the result of genuine Spanish obstinacy, strong in local attachments, and hating all interference; but it too often probably originated in the desire to conceal peculation and robbery on the part of the alcalde, or the parish priest, or the sacristan, or the porter of a suppressed convent. Let us remember that in all probability no one of these functionaries ever received the salary which was due to him, and that the unfortunate monks turned out of their convents had neither interestnor duty in protecting what had ceased to be theirs. If they did not (as it may be hoped) themselves carry off what they could, they would abandon it to the first plunderer. Added to which, the habitual feeling of every Spaniard is, that what belongs to the government is fair game, and may be stolen with a safe conscience.“When all this is considered, it will not appear surprising that bribery and robbery should have stripped the deserted convents, and scattered the memorials of Spanish art and literature. It is greatly to be feared too that the ignorance of the local commissioners will cause many an interesting picture of early date to be thrown on one side as barbarous and rude, and that few such valuable records as the altar of the time of Don Jayme el Conquistador, mentioned as rescued at Valencia, will be preserved at all; indifferent second-rate copies, or imitations of the Italian and Flemish masters, will probably pass current as the staple article in most of the provincial museums, even where such institutions are finally formed. At any rate, as a picture of the state of Spain with reference to the Fine Arts, and as a sort of guide to tourists, it may be useful to give, in alphabetical order, as they are enumerated in the report, an abstract of the general result as to the number of paintings got together in each province.”

“It is clear that in such a state of things the plunder and destruction of pictures must have been enormous. In the summary of the proceedings of theCommission with reference to pictures, which I shall proceed to give, the reader will see that all sorts of obstacles to any claim of the central government were raised by the local authorities; such a course was sometimes no doubt the result of genuine Spanish obstinacy, strong in local attachments, and hating all interference; but it too often probably originated in the desire to conceal peculation and robbery on the part of the alcalde, or the parish priest, or the sacristan, or the porter of a suppressed convent. Let us remember that in all probability no one of these functionaries ever received the salary which was due to him, and that the unfortunate monks turned out of their convents had neither interestnor duty in protecting what had ceased to be theirs. If they did not (as it may be hoped) themselves carry off what they could, they would abandon it to the first plunderer. Added to which, the habitual feeling of every Spaniard is, that what belongs to the government is fair game, and may be stolen with a safe conscience.

“When all this is considered, it will not appear surprising that bribery and robbery should have stripped the deserted convents, and scattered the memorials of Spanish art and literature. It is greatly to be feared too that the ignorance of the local commissioners will cause many an interesting picture of early date to be thrown on one side as barbarous and rude, and that few such valuable records as the altar of the time of Don Jayme el Conquistador, mentioned as rescued at Valencia, will be preserved at all; indifferent second-rate copies, or imitations of the Italian and Flemish masters, will probably pass current as the staple article in most of the provincial museums, even where such institutions are finally formed. At any rate, as a picture of the state of Spain with reference to the Fine Arts, and as a sort of guide to tourists, it may be useful to give, in alphabetical order, as they are enumerated in the report, an abstract of the general result as to the number of paintings got together in each province.”

Here follows the result of the labors of the Commission in forty-eight provinces, alphabetically arranged, presenting a sorry picture indeed. Only a few of them can be given here, which may be taken as specimens of the whole:

“Almeria.—Here the existence of any local collection was denied, but accidentally a catalogue was discovered containing a list of one hundred and ninety-six pictures, which had been got together in 1837, and had apparently disappeared.“Burgos.—The Commissioners say, ‘On seeing the small number of works of art in the province of Burgos, and after examining carefully the communication of the “Gefe Político,” dated in April, 1844, together with the inventory which accompanied it, containing only sixty-nine pictures and thirteen coins, deposited in the Literary Institution of the capital of the province, we could not refrain from signifying our surprise at finding so poor a museum in a province which was at one time one of the richest in Spain in monasteries.’“Cáceres.—Here again the Central Commission could get no account of the works of art which were known to have existed, more especially in the magnificent Hieronymite Monastery of Guadalupe, near Logrosan. The Provincial Commission, acting on the authority of that in Madrid, proceeded to ascertain what still remained within the walls of the convent, when they were resisted by the ‘Ayuntamiento’ of the town of Guadalupe, who pretended that all that was in thechurch and convent belonged to the parish, and not to the state.“Cadiz.—Those who first collected the pictures took care to catalogue them without giving the subjects or the sizes, and mixed up together paintings and prints, so that it was impossible to say what had been stolen. The report goes on to say that the sale of certain pictures was not less irregular and culpable in itself, than the lawfulness of the manner in which the produce of the sale was applied appeared doubtful. The Local Commission of Arts and Sciences thought it prudent to abstain from criminal proceedings against any one; but the pictures yet remaining were in such a state of decay that to protect themselves they caused aprocès verbalto be drawn up, setting forth their condition.“Cuenca.—All sorts of plunder had gone on here, as elsewhere, but the Local Commissioners seem to have exerted themselves to rescue and place in safety what could yet be secured. The head of the Priory of Santiago de Uclés resisted them. The number of pictures collected is not given.“Gerona.—In August, 1842, the ‘Gefe Político’ reported the existence of certain pictures, as he said, of little merit; but, bad or good, they seem to have disappeared by 1845.“Granada.—Here a museum was formed in 1839, and in 1842 a catalogue of eight hundred and eighty-four pieces of sculpture and painting wastransmitted to the Secretary of State. By January, 1844, it would appear that some, probably many, of them had been stolen, and the report does not tell us how many remained.“Guadalajara.—It appears that out of four hundred and thirty pictures, a few only were considered to be originals of any value, and were attributed to Ribera, Zurbaran, Carreño, el Greco, and others, for the most part Spanish masters. Twenty-five were completely ruined.“Guipuzcoa.—The civil war in this province has been the cause and the pretext for the disappearance of many works of art. ‘Since,’ says the report, ‘whilst many have been destroyed on the one hand, on the other the state of affairs has thrown a shield over those who have profited by the confusion, and have unjustly appropriated the property of the state.’“Jaen.—The Local Commission of Jaen in the course of nine months got together five hundred and twenty-three pictures, of which they reported two hundred and eighty-five as worthless, and placed two hundred and thirty-eight in the old Jesuit convent. The names of Murillo, Zurbaran, Alonso Cano, Castillo, Orrente, Melgar, Juan de Sevilla, Guzman, Coello, Titian, el Greco, and Albano, appear in the catalogue.“Leon.—‘The necessity,’ says the report, ‘of quartering troops in the various convents of this province, and the scandalous tricks which we knowto have been played with the works of art in the same, are the causes why the catalogue, which was framed in September of last year, appeared so imperfect and so scanty, since the number of objects was reduced to sixty-one pictures and three pieces of sculpture, deposited in the convent of the so-called “Monjas Catalinas.”’No more favorable account seems to have been received at the time the report was drawn up.“Lérida.—Here too the civil war is said to have caused the disappearance of most of the pictures in the convents; only eighteen of any merit had been collected in April, 1844, but some more were known to exist in the Seo de Urgel, where the local authorities however refused to give them up to the government. The Commission had not been able to obtain an accurate account even of the eighteen.“Malaga.—A miserable return of six pieces sculpture and four pictures was all that could be obtained by the Central Commission, and they attribute this result to ‘the natural indolence and purely mercantile spirit of that district.’ Probably the facility for exportation had a good deal to do with the disappearance of the various works of art which the report affirms to have been once collected and deposited in various public buildings.”

“Burgos.—The Commissioners say, ‘On seeing the small number of works of art in the province of Burgos, and after examining carefully the communication of the “Gefe Político,” dated in April, 1844, together with the inventory which accompanied it, containing only sixty-nine pictures and thirteen coins, deposited in the Literary Institution of the capital of the province, we could not refrain from signifying our surprise at finding so poor a museum in a province which was at one time one of the richest in Spain in monasteries.’

“Cáceres.—Here again the Central Commission could get no account of the works of art which were known to have existed, more especially in the magnificent Hieronymite Monastery of Guadalupe, near Logrosan. The Provincial Commission, acting on the authority of that in Madrid, proceeded to ascertain what still remained within the walls of the convent, when they were resisted by the ‘Ayuntamiento’ of the town of Guadalupe, who pretended that all that was in thechurch and convent belonged to the parish, and not to the state.

“Cadiz.—Those who first collected the pictures took care to catalogue them without giving the subjects or the sizes, and mixed up together paintings and prints, so that it was impossible to say what had been stolen. The report goes on to say that the sale of certain pictures was not less irregular and culpable in itself, than the lawfulness of the manner in which the produce of the sale was applied appeared doubtful. The Local Commission of Arts and Sciences thought it prudent to abstain from criminal proceedings against any one; but the pictures yet remaining were in such a state of decay that to protect themselves they caused aprocès verbalto be drawn up, setting forth their condition.

“Cuenca.—All sorts of plunder had gone on here, as elsewhere, but the Local Commissioners seem to have exerted themselves to rescue and place in safety what could yet be secured. The head of the Priory of Santiago de Uclés resisted them. The number of pictures collected is not given.

“Gerona.—In August, 1842, the ‘Gefe Político’ reported the existence of certain pictures, as he said, of little merit; but, bad or good, they seem to have disappeared by 1845.

“Granada.—Here a museum was formed in 1839, and in 1842 a catalogue of eight hundred and eighty-four pieces of sculpture and painting wastransmitted to the Secretary of State. By January, 1844, it would appear that some, probably many, of them had been stolen, and the report does not tell us how many remained.

“Guadalajara.—It appears that out of four hundred and thirty pictures, a few only were considered to be originals of any value, and were attributed to Ribera, Zurbaran, Carreño, el Greco, and others, for the most part Spanish masters. Twenty-five were completely ruined.

“Guipuzcoa.—The civil war in this province has been the cause and the pretext for the disappearance of many works of art. ‘Since,’ says the report, ‘whilst many have been destroyed on the one hand, on the other the state of affairs has thrown a shield over those who have profited by the confusion, and have unjustly appropriated the property of the state.’

“Jaen.—The Local Commission of Jaen in the course of nine months got together five hundred and twenty-three pictures, of which they reported two hundred and eighty-five as worthless, and placed two hundred and thirty-eight in the old Jesuit convent. The names of Murillo, Zurbaran, Alonso Cano, Castillo, Orrente, Melgar, Juan de Sevilla, Guzman, Coello, Titian, el Greco, and Albano, appear in the catalogue.

“Leon.—‘The necessity,’ says the report, ‘of quartering troops in the various convents of this province, and the scandalous tricks which we knowto have been played with the works of art in the same, are the causes why the catalogue, which was framed in September of last year, appeared so imperfect and so scanty, since the number of objects was reduced to sixty-one pictures and three pieces of sculpture, deposited in the convent of the so-called “Monjas Catalinas.”’No more favorable account seems to have been received at the time the report was drawn up.

“Lérida.—Here too the civil war is said to have caused the disappearance of most of the pictures in the convents; only eighteen of any merit had been collected in April, 1844, but some more were known to exist in the Seo de Urgel, where the local authorities however refused to give them up to the government. The Commission had not been able to obtain an accurate account even of the eighteen.

“Malaga.—A miserable return of six pieces sculpture and four pictures was all that could be obtained by the Central Commission, and they attribute this result to ‘the natural indolence and purely mercantile spirit of that district.’ Probably the facility for exportation had a good deal to do with the disappearance of the various works of art which the report affirms to have been once collected and deposited in various public buildings.”

This great painter, justly esteemed the Head of the Spanish school, was born at Seville in 1594. He pursued almost every branch of painting, except the marine, and excelled almost equally in all.—Philip IV. conferred on him extraordinary honors, appointed him his principal painter, and ordained that none but the modern Apelles should paint his likeness. When Rubens visited Madrid in 1627, to discharge the duties of his embassy, he formed an intimate and lasting friendship with Velasquez, which continued through life. “There is something in the history of this painter,” says Mrs. Jameson, “which fills the imagination like a gorgeous romance. In the very sound of his name,Don Diego Rodriguez Velasquez de Silva—there is something mouth-filling and magnificent. When we read of his fine chivalrous qualities, his noble birth, his riches, his palaces, his orders of knighthood, and what is most rare, the warm, real, steady friendship of a king, and added to this a long life, crowned with genius, felicity, and fame, it seems almost beyond the lot of humanity. I know of nothing to be compared with it but the history of Rubens, his friend and cotemporary, whom he resembled in character and fortune, and in that union of rare talents with practical good sense which ensures success in life.” For a full life of this painter, see Spooner’s Dictionary of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects.

Philip IV. relaxed the rigor of Spanish etiquette in favor of Velasquez, as Charles V. had done with Titian. He had his studio in the royal palace, and the King kept a private key, by means of which he had access to it whenever he pleased. Almost every day Philip used to visit the artist, and would sit and watch him while at work. When Velasquez produced his celebrated picture of the Infanta Margarita surrounded by her maids of honor, with a portrait of himself, standing near at his easel, the King conferred upon him a very unusual honor. After the picture had been greatly admired, Philip remarked, “There is one thing wanting,” and taking the palette and pencils, he drew in with his own hand upon the breast of Velasquez’s portrait, the much coveted Cross of Santiago! The nobles resented this profanation of a decoration hitherto only given to high birth; but all difficulties were removed by apapal dispensation and a grant of Hidalguia. Velasquez’s portraits baffle description or praise—they produce complete illusion, and must be seen to be known. He depicted themindsof men; they live, breathe, and seem about to walk out of their frames. The freshness, individuality, and identity of every person are quite startling; nor can we doubt the anecdote related of Philip IV., who, mistaking for the original the portrait of Admiral Pareja in a dark corner of Velasquez’s room, exclaimed, as he had been ordered to sea, “What! still here?Did I not send thee off? How is it that thou art not gone?” But seeing the figure did not salute him, the King discovered his mistake. While Velasquez sojourned in Rome, he painted the portrait of Innocent X., which is now the gem of the Doria collection, and in which, says Lanzi, “he renewed the wonders which are recounted of those of Leo X. by Raffaelle, and Paul III. by Titian; for this picture so entirely deceived the eye as to be taken for the Pope himself.”

Juan de Pareja was the slave of Don Diego Velasquez. Palomino and others, say he was born in Mexico, of a Spanish father and an Indian mother; but Bermudez says he was born at Seville. From being employed in his master’s studio to attend on him, grind his colors, clean his palette, brushes, &c., he imbibed a passion for painting, and sought every opportunity to practice during his master’s absence. He spent whole nights in drawing and endeavoring to imitate him, for he durst not let him know of his aspiring dreams. At length he had made such proficiency, that he resolved to lay his case before the King, Philip IV., who was not only an excellent judge, but a true lover, of art. It was the King’s custom to resort frequently to the apartments of Velasquez, and to order those pictures which were placed with the painted side to the wall, to be turned to his view. Pareja placed one of his own productions in that position, which the King’s curiosity caused to be turned, when the slave fell on his knees and besought the monarch to obtain his pardon from his master, for having presumed to practice painting without his approbation. Philip, agreeably surprised at his address, and well pleased with the work, bid Pareja to rest contented. He interceded in his behalf, and Velasquez not only forgave him, but emancipated him from servitude; yet such was his attachment and gratitude to his master, that he would never leave him till his death, and afterwards continued to serve his daughter with the same fidelity. He is said to have painted portraits so much in the style of Velasquez, that they could not easily be distinguished from his works. He also painted some historical works, as the Calling of St. Matthew, at Aranjuez; the Baptism of Christ, at Toledo, and some Saints at Madrid.

This eminent Spanish painter was born near Toledo, according to Palomino, in 1594, though Bermudez says in 1586. He was a pupil of El Greco, whom he surpassed in design and purity of taste. His instructor, far from being jealous of his talents, was the first to applaud his works, and to commend him to the public. He executed many admirable works for the churches and public edifices at Toledo and Madrid. It is no mean proof of his ability, that Velasquez professed himself his admirer, andquitting the precepts of Pacheco, he formed his style from the works of Tristan.

Tristan was the favorite pupil of El Greco, to whom his master made over many commissions, which he was unable to execute himself. In this manner he was employed to paint the Last Supper, for the Hieronymite monastery of La Sisla. The monks liked the picture; but they thought the price which the artist asked for it, of two hundred ducats, excessive. They therefore sent for El Greco to value it; but when this master saw his pupil’s work, he raised his stick and ran at him, calling him a scoundrel and a disgrace to his profession. The monks restrained the angry painter, and soothed him by saying that the young man did not know what he asked, and no doubt would submit to the opinion of his master. “In good truth,” returned El Greco, “he does not know what he has asked; and if he does not getfive hundredducats for the picture, I desire it may be rolled up and sent to my house.” The Hieronymites were compelled to pay the larger sum!

This eminent Spanish painter, sculptor, and architect, was born at Granada, according to Bermudez, in 1601. He early showed a passion for the fine arts, and exhibited extraordinary talents. Heexcelled in all the three sister arts, particularly in painting. There are many excellent works by Cano in the churches and public edifices at Cordova, Madrid, Granada, and Seville, which rank him among the greatest Spanish painters. As a sculptor, he manifested great abilities, and executed many fine works, which excited universal admiration. He also gained considerable reputation as an architect, and was appointed architect and painter to the king.

Cano executed many works for the churches and convents gratuitously. When he was young, he painted many pictures for the public places of Seville, which were regarded as astonishing performances. For these he would receive no remuneration, declaring that he considered them unfinished and deficient, and that he wrought for practice and improvement.

Palomino relates several characteristic anecdotes of Cano. An Auditor of the Chancery of Granada bore especial devotion to St. Anthony of Padua, and wished for an image of that saint from the hands of Cano. When the figure was finished, the judge liked it much. He inquired what money the artist expected for it: the answer was, one hundred doubloons. The amateur was astonished, and asked, “How many days he might have spent uponit?” Cano replied, “Some five-and-twenty days.” “Well,” said the Auditor, “that comes to four doubloons per day.” “Your lordship reckons wrong,” said Cano, “for I have spent fifty years in learning to execute it in twenty-five days.” “That is all very well, but I have spent my patrimony and my youth in studying at the University, and in a higher profession; now here I am, Auditor in Granada, and if I get a doubloon a day, it is as much as I do.” Cano had scarce patience to hear him out. “A higher profession, indeed!” he exclaimed; “the king can make judges out of the dust of the earth, but it is reserved for God alone to make an Alonso Cano.” Saying this, he took up the figure and dashed it to pieces on the pavement; whereupon the Auditor escaped as fast as he could, not feeling sure that Cano’s fury would confine itself to the statue.

Another characteristic of Cano, was his insuperable repugnance for any persons tainted with Judaism. It appears that in Granada the unhappy persons of that nation who werepenitenciados(i.e. who had been subjected to penance by the Inquisition) were in the habit of getting what they could to support themselves, by selling linen and other articles about the streets; they wore of course thesambenito, or habit prescribed by the Inquisition as the mark of their penance. If Cano met one of thesemen in the street, he would cross to the other side, or get out of his way into the passage of a house. Occasionally, however, in turning a corner, or by mere accident, one of these persons would sometimes brush the garment of the artist, who then instantly sent his servant home for another, whether cloak or doublet, and gave thepollutedone to his attendant. The servant, however, did not dare to wear what he had thus acquired, or his master would have turned him out of the house forthwith—he could only sell it. It is added that the manifest profit which the servant derived from his master’s scruples, made the people doubt whether in all cases the Jew had really brushed against the artist, or whether the servant had himself twitched the cloak as the Jew passed. At any rate the servant has been heard to remonstrate, and urge that “it was the slightest touch in the world, sir—it cannot matter.” “Not matter?—you scoundrel, in such things as these, everything matters;” and the valet got the cloak.

On one occasion, Cano’s housekeeper, with an excess of audacity, had actually brought one of thesepenitenciadosinto the house, and was buying some linen of him; a dispute about the price caused high words, and the master came, hearing a disturbance. What could he do? he could not defile himself by laying hands on the miscreant, who got away while the wrathful artist was looking for some weapon that he could use without touching him. But thehousekeeper had to fly to a neighbor’s; and it was only after many entreaties, and performing a rigorous quarantine, that she was received back again.

His passion for art, and his eccentric notions respecting the Jews, were strongly manifested in his last sickness. He lived in the parish of the city which contained the prison of the Inquisition. The priest of the parish visited him upon his death-bed, and proposed to administer the sacraments to him after confession, when the artist quietly asked him whether he was in the habit of administering it to the Jews on whom penance was imposed by the Inquisition. The priest replying in the affirmative, Cano said, “Senor Licenciado, go your way, and do not trouble yourself to call again; for the priest who administers the sacraments to the Jews shall not administer them to me.” Accordingly he sent for the priest of the parish of St. Andrew. This last, however, gave offence in another form; he put into the artist’s hands a crucifix of indifferent execution, when Cano desired him to take it away. The priest was so shocked at this, that he thought him possessed, and was at the point of exorcising him. “My son,” he said, “what dost thou mean? this is the Lord who redeemed thee, and who must save thee.”—“I know that well,” replied Cano, “but do you want to provoke me with that wretched thing, so as to give me over to the devil? let mehave a simple cross, for with that I can reverence Christ in faith; I can worship him as he is in himself, and as I contemplate him in my own mind.” This was accordingly done, so that the artist was no longer troubled by an indifferent specimen of sculpture.

Francisco Ribalta, an eminent Spanish painter, studied first in Valencia, where he fell in love with the daughter of his instructor. The father refused his consent to the marriage; but the daughter promised to wait for her lover while he studied in Italy. Ribalta accordingly went thither and devoted himself to his art, studying particularly the works of Raffaelle and the Caracci, and returned, after a considerable time, to his native country. Quickened by love, he had attained a high degree of excellence. On arriving at the city of Valencia, he went to the house of his beloved, who meanwhile had proved faithful; and her father being away from home, he finished the sketch of a picture in his studio, in his mistress’ presence, and left it to produce its effect upon the hitherto inflexible parent. The latter, on returning, asked his daughter who had been there, adding, with a look at the picture, “This is the man to whom I would marry thee, and not to that dauber, Ribalta.” The marriage of course took place, immediately; and the fame of Ribalta soon procured him abundant employment.

Aparicio, a Spanish painter who died in 1838, possessed little merit, but great vanity. Among other works, he painted the Ransoming of 1700 slaves at Algiers, which occurred in 1768, by order of Charles III. When the picture was exhibited at Rome, Canova, who knew the man, told Aparicio, “This is the finest thing in the world, and you are the first of painters.” Soon after, Thorwaldsen came in and ventured a critique, whereupon the Don indignantly quoted Canova. “Sir, he has been laughing at you,” said the honest Dane, to whom Aparicio never spoke again.

This preëminent Spanish painter was born at Pilas, near Seville, in 1613. There is a great deal of contradiction among writers as to his early history, but it has been proved that he never left his own country. He first studied under Don Juan del Castillo, an eminent historical painter at Seville, on leaving whom, he went to Cadiz. It was the custom of the young artists at that time to expose their works for sale at the annual fairs, and many of the earliest productions of Murillo were exported to South America, which gave rise to the tradition, that he had proceeded thither in person.

The fame of Velasquez, then at its zenith, inspired Murillo with a desire to visit Madrid, in thehope to profit by his instruction. He accordingly proceeded thither in 1642, and paid his court to Velasquez, who received him with great kindness, admitted him into his academy, and procured for him the best means of improvement beyond his own instruction, by obtaining for him access to the rich treasures of art in the royal collections, where his attention was particularly directed to the works of Titian, Rubens, and Vandyck.

After a residence of three years at Madrid, Murillo returned to Seville, where he was commissioned to paint his great fresco of St. Thomas of Villanuova distributing alms to the poor, in the convent of San Francisco, consisting of sixteen compartments.—The subject suited his genius, and gave full scope for the display of his powers, which were peculiarly adapted to the representation of nature in her most simple and unsophisticated forms. The Saint stands in a dignified posture, with a countenance beaming with benevolence and compassion, while he is surrounded by groups of paupers, eagerly pressing forward to receive his charity, whose varied character and wretchedness are portrayed with wonderful art and truthfulness of expression. This and other works produced emotions of the greatest astonishment among his countrymen, established his reputation as one of the greatest artists of his age, and procured him abundant employment.

About this time, Murillo was employed by the Marquis of Villamanrique, to paint a series of pictures from the life of David, in which the backgrounds were to be painted by Ignacio Iriarte, an eminent landscape painter of Seville. Murillo rightly proposed that the landscape parts should be first painted, and that he should afterwards put in the figures; but Iriarte contended that the historical part ought to be first finished, to which he would adapt the backgrounds. To put an end to the dispute, Murillo undertook to execute the whole, and changing the History of David to that of Jacob, he produced the famous series of five pictures, now in the possession of the Marquis de Santiago at Madrid, in which the beauty of the landscapes contends with that of the figures, and which remain a monument of his powers in these different departments of the art.

The last work which Murillo painted was a picture of St. Catherine, in the convent of the Capuchins at Seville, his death being hastened by a fall from the scaffold. He died at Seville in 1685, universally deplored—for he was greatly beloved, not merely for his extraordinary talents, but for the generous qualities of his heart. Such was his noble and charitable disposition, that he is said to haveleft but little property, though he received large prices for his works.

Few painters have a juster claim to originality of style than Murillo, and his works show an incontestible proof of the perfection to which the Spanish school attained, and the real character of its artists; for he was never out of his native country, and could have borrowed little from foreign artists; and this originality places him in the first rank among the painters of every school. All his works are distinguished by a close and lively imitation of nature. His pictures of the Virgin, Saints, Magdalens, and even of the Saviour, are stamped with a characteristic expression of the eye, and have a national peculiarity of countenance and habiliments, which are very remarkable. There is little of the academy discernible in his design or his composition. It is a chaste and faithful representation of what he saw or conceived; truth and simplicity are never lost sight of; his coloring is clear, tender, and harmonious, and though it possesses the truth of Titian, and the sweetness of Vandyck, it has nothing of the appearance of imitation. There is little of the ideal in his forms or heads, and though he frequently adopts a beautiful expression, there is usually a portrait-like simplicity in his countenances. In short, his pictures are said to hold a middle rank between the unpolished naturalness of the Flemish,and the graceful and dignified taste of the Italian schools.

The works of Murillo are numerous, and widely scattered over the world. Most of his greatest works are in the churches of Spain; some are in the Royal collections at Madrid, some in France and Flanders, many in England, and a few in the United States. They now command enormous prices. The National Gallery of London paid four thousand guineas for a picture of the Holy Family, and two thousand for one of St. John with the Lamb. The late Marshal Soult’s collection was very rich in Murillos—the fruits of his campaigns in Spain. The famous Assumption of the Virgin, considered the chef d’œuvre of the master, brought the enormous sum of five hundred and eighty-six thousand francs, and was bought by the French government to adorn the Louvre; but it should be recollected that the heads of three governments—those of France, Russia, and Spain—and an English Marquis, competed for it. Such works, too, are esteemed above all price, as models of art, in a national collection of pictures. Of the other Murillos in the Soult collection, the principal brought the following prices: “The Ravages of the Plague,” twenty thousand francs; “The Miracle of St. Diego,” eighty-five thousand francs; “The Flight into Egypt,” fifty-one thousand francs; “The Nativityof the Virgin,” ninety thousand francs; “The Repentance of St. Peter,” fifty-five thousand francs; “Christ on the Cross,” thirty-one thousand francs; “St. Peter in Prison,” one hundred and fifty-one thousand francs; “Jesus and St. John—children,” fifty-one thousand seven hundred and fifty francs. The two last were purchased for the Emperor of Russia. The collection was sold in May, 1852.

The works of Murillo have been largely copied and imitated, and so successfully as to deceive even connoisseurs.

The Assumption of the Virgin is considered by all the Spanish writers as the masterpiece of Murillo, and never, perhaps, did that great master attain such sublimity of expression and such magnificent coloring, as in this almost divine picture. It represents the Virgin in the act of being carried up into Heaven. Her golden hair floats on her shoulders, and her white robe gently swells in the breeze, while a mantle of blue gracefully falls from her left shoulder. Groups of angels and cherubim of extraordinary beauty, sport around her in the most evident admiration, those below thronging closely together, while those above open their ranks, as if not in any way to conceal the glory shed around the ascending Virgin. The size of the picture is eight feet six inches in height, by six feet broad, French measure. This picture was the gem of the famous collectionmade by Marshal Soult, during his campaigns in Spain, who used humorously to relate that it cost himtwo monks, which he thus explained. One morning two of his soldiers were found with their throats cut, and the deed being traced to the instigation of the monks, near whose convent they had encamped, he immediately arraigned them before a court-martial, sentenced two of the fraternity to expiate the deed, and compelled them to designate the victims by lot. One of the chances fell to the Prior, who offered Soult this peerless picture as the price of their redemption.

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