Volume 1 — NUMERICAL CATALOGUE, WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE NOTES (continued 12)

1062. A BATTLE PIECE

Ferrarese School (early 16th century).

1063. A MAN'S PORTRAIT.

Flemish School (15th-16th century).

1074. AN OYSTER SUPPER.

Dirk Hals (Dutch; 1589-1656).

"Dirk was the younger brother of Frans Hals (see 1021), and was born at Malines in 1589. He followed his elder brother to Haarlem, where he died in 1656—that is, ten years before Frans. Dirk was a clever artist, at least so far as may be judged by his works, which are extremely rare. His figures are amusing, graceful in manner, and especially interesting from their costumes, which belong to his own time, and now appear somewhat strange and extravagant" (Havard: The Dutch School, p. 121). Dirk confined himself chiefly, says Burton, "to the representation of convivial parties, where cavaliers and ladies are seen enjoying themselves without much reserve at table, in the dance, or with music. His light pencil, his brilliant colour, laid on thinly over a greyish ground, and sharply accentuated, suited the themes and the small scale of his pictures."

The picture is signed (on the architrave above the open door), and dated 1626.

1075. VIRGIN AND CHILD, ST. JEROME, AND ST. FRANCIS.

Perugino (Umbrian: 1446-1523). See 288.

A very "Peruginesque" example—full, that is, of the peculiar sentiment and apparent affectation which caused Goldsmith to make the admiration of him the test of absurd connoisseurship.[208] But "what is commonly thought affected in his design," says Ruskin, "is indeed the true remains of the great architectural symmetry which was soon to be lost, and which makes him the true follower of Arnolfo and Brunelleschi," the great Florentine builders (Ariadne Florentina, § 72). The picture displays also in perfection "that quality of tone in which Perugino stands unsurpassed; and the rich and liquid, but subdued colour is steeped in a transparent atmosphere of pale golden glow" (Burton).

The history of this picture affords a good instance of that enrichment of the National Gallery with "graceful interludes by Perugino," saved from "the wreck of Italian monasteries," of which Mr. Ruskin speaks in his preface to this work. It was painted by Perugino in 1507, to be placed over an altar in memory of a master-carpenter at Perugia. It afterwards passed into the possession of the monks who owned the church. They sold it, with the chapel in which it was placed, to the Cecconi family, from whom it passed by inheritance to the family Della Penna. In 1822 the head of this family removed it to his palace, leaving a copy of it in its place in the church, and in 1879 the picture itself was bought from the Baron della Penna for the Nation.

1077. ALTAR-PIECE (dated 1501).

Borgognone (Lombard: about 1455-1523). See 298.

A picture of the "man of sorrows." On either side of the infant Christ are shown the scenes of his suffering[209]—

For sacrifice—but also for redemption, and so above the throne are the angels of God, playing the glad music of death swallowed up in victory. In the right-hand compartment is Christ bearing his cross; in the left his agony in the garden. The three disciples are here crouched asleep lower down, and behind a wall are the Roman soldiers, whilst from above an angel brings a cup with a cross, two spears, and a crown of thorns in it: "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him" (Luke xxii. 42, 43).

1078. THE DEPOSITION FROM THE CROSS.

1079. THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI.

Unknown (Early Flemish: 15th century).

See also (p. xx)

These two pictures closely resemble in style and colouring the large altar-piece in the church of St. Bavon at Ghent, which is attributed to Gerard van der Meire.[210] That painter flourished at Ghent about the middle of the fifteenth century; entering the Guild of St. Luke in 1452, and becoming sub-dean in 1474. He is described in a chronicle of the time as a pupil of Hubert van Eyck, but the historian Van Mander says he began to paint after the death of Jan van Eyck, a statement which is confirmed by the date of his enrolment in the Guild. Nothing is yet really known about him except the bare fact of his existence, for no picture has been certainly identified as his.

(1079.) It is interesting to compare this representation of the scene, almost childlike in its simplicity, alike with the treatment by later painters (see, for instance, Rembrandt's, No. 47), and with the more decorative and symbolic treatment of the early Italians (e.g. Botticelli, No. 1034). The picture before us "shows no particular felicity of rendering, no depth or insight; it carries little conviction of reality, but it has a homely charm. The painter was thoroughly convinced of the actual truth of what he represented, and thought only of bringing the same home to everyday experience. In the background he has placed a village, in which men are discussing what is going on" (J. E. Hodgson, R.A., in the Magazine of Art, 1890, p. 42).

1080. HEAD OF JOHN THE BAPTIST.

Unknown (School of the Lower Rhine: 15th century).

See also (p. xx)

The introduction of children's faces—in the character of mourning angels—to so ghastly a subject is very characteristic of the love of horror common to the Flemish and German Schools.

1081. A MAN AT PRAYER.

Unknown (Early Flemish: 15th century).

Probably a portrait of the donor of an altar-piece, of which this picture formed one compartment.

1082. THE VISIT OF THE MADONNA TO ST. ELIZABETH.

Joachim Patinir (Early Flemish: died 1524). See 715.

1083. CHRIST CROWNED WITH THORNS.

Unknown (Early Flemish: 15th century).

See also (p. xx)

1084. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.

Joachim Patinir (Early Flemish: died 1524). See 715.

1085. VIRGIN AND CHILD.

Unknown (School of the Lower Rhine: 15th century).

See also (p. xx)

A picture of the same school as 706, but the Flemish influence is here more discernible. In the background is a church lighted from within. The heads are very ugly (notice the saint in the left compartment), but the execution, especially of the accessories, is very delicate.

1086. CHRIST APPEARING AFTER HIS RESURRECTION.

Unknown (Early Flemish: 15th century).

See also (p. xx)

Notice the empty tomb, visible through the half-opened door in the background—with the Roman soldier asleep beside, and an angel above it.

1087. THE MOCKING OF CHRIST.

Unknown (Early German: 15th century).

Sir Martin Conway says of the Lyversberg Passion what is equally applicable to this picture, and indeed to most of the German art of the same period (cf. e.g. 1049). "The Passion, as conceived by this painter, was a scene for the display of brutality rather than the exhibition of heroism. The enduring Christ is not the subject of the pictures, but the torturing villains that surround him. The figure of Christ does not dominate the rest; the vile element seems always victorious" (Early Flemish Artists, p. 202).

1088. THE CRUCIFIXION.

Unknown (German School: 16th century).

An altar-piece in three compartments. On the side panels are two figures, probably the donor and his wife, kneeling.

1089. MADONNA AND CHILD WITH ST. ELIZABETH.

Unknown (Early Flemish: 15th century).

1090. PAN AND SYRINX.

François Boucher (French: 1704-1770).

Boucher, "the Anacreon of Painting," was the typical painter-decorator of the Louis-quinze period. He painted (as Mr. Dobson sings in Old World Idylls)—

Boucher is represented by no less than 21 canvases at Hertford House, some of them of considerable historical interest. For Boucher owed much to the favour of Madame de Pompadour, who purchased in 1753 the two fine pictures of "Sunrise" and "Sunset" now at Hertford House. In the same collection are the idyllic and erotic subjects with which Boucher decorated the boudoir at the Hôtel de l'Arsenal in which the Pompadour was wont to receive her royal lover. He also painted several portraits of the all-powerful favourite, whom he instructed in the art of etching; one of these portraits is also at Hertford House. Boucher was the son of a designer for embroideries. He spent some years in Rome, but returned to Paris untouched by the great works he had seen. He suited his art to the taste of the time, and had his reward in reaping considerable wealth by his productions, which, including drawings for the engravers, he poured forth in thousands. In 1755 he became inspector of the Gobelins, an appointment which he resigned in 1765 on becoming first painter to the king. Sir Joshua Reynolds describes a visit to Boucher, whom he found "at work on a very large picture without drawings or models of any kind." Sir Joshua allows, however, to some of his earlier works, "grace and beauty and good skill in composition." His easy execution and often dainty colour are also admired. He was the idol of his day, but his meretricious art was the subject of very pungent criticism from the not very austere Diderot.[211]

For another version of the same subject, see 659.

1002. ST. SEBASTIAN.

Zaganelli (Ferrarese: about 1500).

The only known work by a master who signs himself Bernardino (of) Cotignola (in the Duchy of Ferrara). He was a brother of Francesco Zaganelli, and is believed to have worked towards the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century.

This picture formed the chief panel of an altar-piece formerly in the church of the Carmine at Pavia, and thus described by Bartoli:

In the twelfth chapel (is) an ancient picture divided into six compartments, of which the three larger exhibit, in the centre St. Sebastian, and at the sides St. Nicholas and St. Catherine of Alexandria, while the three smaller which are above represent the body of the Redeemer supported by two angels in the centre, and at the sides the Virgin Mary and the Announcing Angel. This (altar-piece) is the work of Bernardino da Cotignola, who has affixed to it his name on a feigned label.

For the story of St. Sebastian, see under 669.

1093. OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS.

Leonardo da Vinci (Florentine: 1452-1519).

There is no more fascinating and illustrious name in the annals of art than Leonardo, of Vinci, a town in the Val d'Arno below Florence. He has been well called, from the many-sidedness of his efforts, the Faust of the Renaissance. The great public which knows him best by his few pictures and many drawings does not always remember that he was also musician, critic, poet, sculptor, architect, mechanist, mathematician, philosopher, and explorer. In a letter addressed to Ludovico il Moro, Prince of Milan, in whose service he lived for sixteen years (1483-1499), he enumerates as his chief qualification his skill in military engineering, and throws in his art as an incidental accomplishment. "I will also undertake any work in sculpture, in marble, in bronze, or in terra-cotta; likewise in painting I can do what may be done as well as any man, be he who he may." The range and amount alike of his theoretical discoveries and practical ingenuities were extraordinary. He divined the circulation of the blood. He anticipated Copernicus in propounding the theory of the earth's movement. He declared that "motion was the cause of all life." He forestalled Lamarck's classification of vertebrate and invertebrate. He takes his place, in virtue of his researches into rocks and fossils, with the masters of modern science who have proclaimed the continuity of geological causes. He was the first inventor of screw propulsion. He made paddle-wheels. He attacked the problem of aerial navigation. He invented swimming belts. He anticipated by many years the invention of the camera obscura. He was great alike as a civil and a military engineer. He watered the Lombard plain by the invention of sluices; he was one of the first to recommend the use of mines for the destruction of forts, and he anticipated the inventions of our time in suggesting breech-loading guns and mitrailleuses. He shrank neither from the highest speculations nor from the humblest contrivances. For centuries after his death the burghers of Milan minced meat for their sausages with machines invented by the painter of "Monna Lisa."

This marvellous curiosity in science and invention could not but profoundly influence Leonardo's work as an artist. One result is as obvious as it was unfortunate. He paid the penalty of versatility in undertaking more than he could fulfil. His dilatoriness is well known. He went once to Rome, but the Pope, Leo X., offended him by exclaiming, "Ah! this man will never do anything; he thinks of the end before the beginning of his work" (He had made elaborate preparations for varnishing his picture before he began it.) Many of his works were thus unfinished, and others, owing to premature experiments in material, are ruined—especially his famous Last Supper at Milan, of which there is an original drawing at the Royal Academy. "Leonardo's oil painting," says Ruskin,—not, however, without a touch of exaggeration—"is all gone black or to nothing." "Because Leonardo made models of machines, dug canals, built fortifications, and dissipated half his art-power in capricious ingenuities, we have many anecdotes of him;—but no picture of importance on canvas, and only a few withered stains of one upon a wall" (Queen of the Air, § 157). But Leonardo's curiosity, his wide outlook, his sense of the immensities, added something to his art which otherwise it might not have contained, and which is intensely characteristic of it. Who, for instance, has ever penetrated the secret of Leonardo's smile?—of the ineffable, mysterious, plaintive, and haunting smile that has fascinated and perplexed the world century after century in the portrait of La Gioconda? That unfathomable smile, with so much of mystery and with something of weirdness in it, was the reflection of Leonardo's mind, which had explored the depths and heights, and ever came back from the pursuit with the sense of the inscrutable Mystery beyond. "What is that," he asks, "which does not give itself to human comprehension, and which, if it did, would not exist? It is the infinite, which, if it could so give itself, would be done and ended." In the "Last Supper," says M. Müntz, "he had realised his ideal." Leonardo himself would not have said so. His was one of those lofty minds before which an unattainable ideal ever hovers. "It is of a truth impossible," said a friend of the master to him, "to conceive of faces more lovely and gentle than those of St. James the Great and St. James the Less. Accept thy misfortune, therefore, and leave thy Christ imperfect as He is, for otherwise, when compared with the Apostles, He would not be their Saviour and Master." Leonardo took the advice, and never finished the head of Christ. But he fixed the outward type of Christ for succeeding generations. Apart from the credit due to Leonardo as an ennobler of style in art, he stands out further in the history of painting as the first who investigated the laws of light and shade. There are "three methods of art, producing respectively linear designs, effects of light, and effects of colour. In preparing to draw any object, you will find that practically you have to ask yourself, Shall I aim at the colour of it, the light of it, or the lines of it? The best art comes so near nature as in a measure to unite all. But the best art is not, and cannot be, as good as nature; and the mode of its deficiency is that it must lose some of the colour, some of the light, or some of the delineation. And in consequence, there is one great school which says, 'We will have delineation, and as much colour and shade as are consistent with it.' Another, which says, 'We will have shade, and as much colour and delineation as are consistent with it.' The third, 'We will have the colour, and as much light and delineation as are consistent with it.' The second class, the Chiaroscurists, are essentially draughtsmen with chalk, charcoal, or single tints. Many of them paint, but always with some effort and pain. Leonardo is the type of them" (compressed from Ariadne Florentina, §§ 18-21).

To his artistic genius and intellectual alertness, Leonardo added great personal beauty ("the radiance of his countenance, which was splendidly beautiful, brought cheerfulness," says Vasari, "to the heart of the most melancholy") and great physical strength. He could bend a door-knocker, we are told, or a horse-shoe as if it were lead. He was left-handed and wrote from right to left. Besides his physical strength, Vasari mentions his kindness and gentleness, and tells us how he would frequently buy caged birds from the dealers, in order to give them back their liberty. Scandalous accusations were at one time brought against him, but researches made in the archives during the last few years have effectually disposed of the charge. One curious trait in the character of Leonardo remains to be noticed. In his art he created a feminine type of extraordinary and haunting beauty. "And yet," says his latest biographer, "Leonardo, like Donatello, was one of those exceptionally great artists in whose life the love of woman seems to have played no part.... The delights of the mind sufficed him. He himself proclaimed it in plain terms. Cosa bella mortal passa e non arte.' Fair humanity passes, but art endures.'" This extraordinary man was the son of a peasant-mother, Caterina, and was born out of wedlock, his father being a Florentine notary; and amongst Leonardo's manuscripts is a record of a visit to Caterina in the hospital, who soon after his father's death had married in her own station, and of expenses paid for her funeral. His life has three divisions—thirty years at Florence, nearly twenty years at Milan, then nineteen years of wandering, till he sinks to rest under the protection of the King of France. (1) Leonardo was the pupil of Verrocchio (see 296), "a master well chosen, for in his earnest and discursive mind were many points of contact with that of his illustrious pupil." Leonardo seems to have retained his connection with Verrocchio until 1477, but the records of his Florentine period are very scanty. His earliest undoubted work is the unfinished "Adoration" in the Uffizi. To this period also belongs the head of the "Medusa" in that collection, celebrated in Shelley's verses—a work, says Mr. Pater, in which "the fascination of corruption penetrates in every touch its exquisitely finished beauty." (2) In 1483 Leonardo removed to Milan to take service with Ludovico Sforza. He served his patron in those multifarious ways for which his talents fitted him,—as musician and improvisatore, as director of court pageants, as sculptor, painter, and civil and military engineer. To this Milanese period belong two of the master's most celebrated productions—the present picture and the "Last Supper," executed in oil colours on an end wall of the refectory in the Dominican Convent of S. Maria della Grazia. At Milan, Leonardo founded the famous Vincian Academy of Arts over which he presided, which attracted so many pupils, and which may be said to have established a new Milanese School. For his Academy he made the elaborate notes for a Treatise on Painting which were posthumously published.(3) In 1500, consequent upon the flight of the Duke before the French army, Leonardo left Milan and returned to Florence. His stay, however, was not long, for he took service for a time with Cæsar Borgia as architect and military engineer. He was again in Florence in 1503, and was commissioned with Michelangelo to paint the Hall of Council in the Palace of the Signory. His subject was the Battle of Anghiari. The painting was begun but never completed. The cartoon, now lost, remained and excited the greatest admiration, "The man who had presented the solemn moment of the Last Supper with a dignity and pathos never equalled, who could portray feminine loveliness with a sweetness and grace peculiar to his pencil, was no less successful in bringing before the eye the turmoil of battle and the fierce passions inspired by the struggle for victory." One great work of his of this period (1504) happily survives—the famous portrait of Monna Lisa, known as La Gioconda, in the Louvre. For the next ten years (1506-1516), Leonardo alternated between Milan, Florence, and Rome. Other works of this period are the "St. Anne" and "St. John," also in the Louvre. In 1516 he accompanied the French King, Francis I., to France, who lodged him and his faithful friend Melzi in the Château de Cloux, near Amboise. Three years later he died, having made his will (the text of which has recently been discovered) a week before the end—"considering the certainty of death and the uncertainty of the hour, of its approach." He was buried, by his own instructions, in the church of St. Florentin at Amboise. Of Leonardo as a young man, no authentic portraits exist. In the Royal Collection at Windsor and at Turin there are portraits of himself in red chalk; and on the Sacro Monte at Varallo, one of Gaudenzio Ferrari's sculptured figures is a portrait of the great master. Leonardo's drawings are very beautiful and numerous—the Windsor Collection being the richest; they show us with what infinite searching the master drew near to his ideals. The picture before us makes upon the spectator the impression of rapid and spontaneous creation; but the drawings for it show that it was in fact one of the most laborious of Leonardo's works (see on this subject Müntz's Leonardo da Vinci, i. 162 in the English translation. This is the best life of the master. The most penetrative study of Leonardo remains Mr. Pater's, in his Renaissance).

This beautiful picture is very characteristic of Leonardo in its effects of light and shade, in grace and refinement of delineation, in felicity of gesture, and in the curious beauty of the types. Leonardo makes out of his subject a charming idyll, into which the spectator may read his own meanings. "In St. John the Baptist," says Lomazzo, writing in 1584, "we may see the motive of obedience and child like veneration, as he kneels with joined hands and bends towards Christ; in the Virgin, the feeling of happy meditation as she beholds this act; in the angel, the idea of angelic gladness, as he ponders the joy that shall come to the world from this mystery; and in the Infant Christ we behold divinity and wisdom. And therefore the Virgin kneels, holding St. John with her right hand and extending her left, and the angel likewise supports Christ, who, seated, regards St. John and blesses him." A modern poet, adding to the picture a beautiful thought of his own, has suggested that in the valley of the shadow of death the Virgin brings the soul of a dead child for her son's blessing (see an interesting discussion of "The Louvre Sonnets of Rossetti," by W. M. Hardinge, in Temple Bar, March 1891):—

D. G. Rossetti: Sonnets and Ballads.

The landscape from which the picture takes its title is remarkable. Leonardo, a pioneer in so many other things, was a pioneer also in Alpine exploration, and has even been credited with a first ascent in the Monte Rosa range. However this may be, it is clear from his pictures and drawings that his mineralogical and geological studies attracted him to the curious rocks and peaks which he had observed among the mountains of North Italy.[213] "In him," says Mr. Pater, "first appears the taste for what is bizarre or recherché in landscape; hollow places full of the green shadow of bituminous rocks, ridged reefs of trap-rock which cut the water into quaint sheets of light; all solemn effects of moving water; you may follow it springing from its distant source among the rocks on the heath of the 'Madonna of the Balances,' passing as a little fall into the treacherous calm of the 'Madonna of the Lake,' next, as a goodly river below the cliffs of the 'Madonna of the Rocks,' stealing out in a network of divided streams in 'La Gioconda' to the sea-shore of the 'St. Anne.' It is the landscape not of dreams or of fancy, but of places far withdrawn." Notice also the flowers of the foreground. "Leonardo paints flowers with such curious felicity that different writers have attributed to him a fondness for particular flowers, as Clement the cyclamen, and Rio the jasmine; while at Venice there is a stray leaf from his portfolio dotted all over with studies of violets and the white rose." "This work," says Ford Madox Brown, "seems to have been laid in entirely with ivory black, which, as its wont is, has come through the upper painting to the extent of leaving only to look at a picture in black, heightened, in the lights, with a little faint yellow. So much is true, and also that the rocks, from which the picture takes its name, are of the most singular formations, such as no modern geologist would care to lecture on, the herbage being much the same as to its botanical value. But in spite of these and other objections, such is the intrinsic power of the work in style of drawing and beauty of expression, that nothing known, not by the greatest masters, can do more than hold their own against it. Just stand a little way off, study the heads, and see what they tell you—most supreme master of the human face divine" (Magazine of Art, 1890, p. 135).

There is, as everyone knows, a very similar picture to this in the Louvre; and during the last few years an Anglo-French dispute has raged furiously in artistic circles with regard to the authenticity, priority, and relative merits of the two pictures. The pedigree of our picture is singularly complete, and there can be no doubt that it is a veritable work by the hand of Leonardo. It agrees minutely with the description given by Lomazzo (in 1584) of a painting by Leonardo, which in his time was in the chapel of the Conception in the church of S. Francesco at Milan. The picture in the Louvre differs from Lomazzo's description in the one essential difference between the two pictures. In the Louvre picture the angel looks towards us and points to St. John, thus connecting the spectator with what is taking place. In our picture, on the other hand, there is no such connecting link. The action is complete within itself. The spectator is not invited to participate in what is to him a divine vision. It is clear therefore that our picture is the one which, in 1584, was in S. Francesco at Milan, and which passed for a work by Leonardo. External evidence has come to light during the last few years proving what had hitherto only been taken for granted, namely, that Leonardo did execute the central composition of the altar-piece for that church. This is a memorial from Ambrogio di Predis and Leonardo da Vinci to the Duke of Milan, praying him to intervene in a dispute which had arisen between the petitioners and the brotherhood "della Concezione" with regard to the price to be paid for certain works of art furnished by them for the chapel of the brotherhood in S. Francesco. The brotherhood had priced the oil-painting of Our Lady executed by Leonardo at only 25 ducats, whereas it was worth 100 ducats, as shown by the account and proved by the fact that certain persons were found willing to purchase it at that price. No evidence is forthcoming as to the settlement of the dispute. We have then these facts: that Leonardo painted a picture of Our Lady for S. Francesco, that such a picture was in the church in 1584, and that our picture precisely agrees with Lomazzo's description of it. The picture remained in the chapel until some time between 1751 and 1787. In the latter year Bianconi, in a guide-book to Milan, states that the two side panels (1661, 1662) were still there, but that the picture "by the hand of Leonardo" had been removed. In 1777 our picture was brought to England by Gavin Hamilton, and sold by him to the Marquis of Lansdowne, from whom it afterwards passed by exchange into the collection of the Earl of Suffolk at Charlton Park. From Lord Suffolk it was bought in 1880 for the National Gallery, the price being £9000.

It will thus be seen that the external evidence in favour of this picture being a veritable work by Leonardo is unusually strong. Internal evidence is more difficult to bring to the test, resting as it does on æsthetic considerations, the force of which depends on the authority of the witness and the competence of the court to which he appeals. Several critics, it may be explained, had convinced themselves long ago that the Louvre picture was the original and ours a copy. The discovery of the new document above referred to seemed at first to strengthen the authenticity of our picture. But the point was ingeniously turned by the following gratuitous and entirely unsupported theory. Leonardo, says Dr. Richter, must have sold the original to the French king, and let the church have a copy at the low price agreed upon. Supporting this theory in turn by internal evidence, the enemies of our picture declare it to be "an entirely wretched performance" (Richter); "superficial," "insipid," "heavy," "woolly," "lacking in elevation," "feeble," in short, "a work in which we do not feel the real presence of the master" (Müntz). Those who thus disparage our picture suppose it to be a copy by Ambrogio di Predis. To this theory, an effective retort has been given by the purchase for the Gallery of the two wings that used to flank the central picture. It is impossible to suppose that the painter of No. 1662 was capable of producing our picture, of which the skilful delineation and mysterious beauty delight all spectators who have no preconceived theory in the matter. It should be stated that some of the faults found with our picture are admitted by the authorities of the Gallery. "The ill-drawn gilt nimbi over the heads of the three principal figures, as well as the clumsy reed cross which rests on St. John's shoulder, are additions of a comparatively late period, probably of the 17th century." Again, "the hand of the Virgin resting on St. John's shoulder is obviously the mere daub of a picture restorer."

Those who support the authenticity of our picture do not feel called upon to carry the war into the enemy's camp, though both Sir Frederick Burton and Sir Edward Poynter notice various defects and repaintings in the Louvre picture, and the former points out that its pedigree does not extend back beyond 1642. The fact seems to be that neither picture can properly be called a copy of the other. The most striking difference—that in the attitude of the angel—is fundamental, and not such as a copyist would venture to make. There are many other differences; indeed no single part of the groups is really alike; and those differences (as Sir Edward Poynter shows) are such as an artist would make in working from different studies. Studies for portions of both pictures exist. A further question in dispute is which of the two versions is the earlier. To Sir Edward Poynter "it seems that our picture shows traces of Leonardo's training in the school of Verrocchio, and that it is the Louvre picture which has more of the idealised refinement of type on which Luini formed his style." To Mr. Claude Phillips, on the other hand, the angel of the Louvre looking straight out of the picture seems to be essentially Florentine, and to belong specifically to the school of Verrocchio (see 296 in our Gallery). The variation in the angel's attitude, as given in our version, is in conception a distinct improvement: it makes the picture more self-contained. "One can imagine," says Mr. MacColl, "Leonardo, on second thoughts, judging that the Louvre angel drew too much attention to himself by his pointing hand, and was better within the picture with downcast eyes than when inviting the attention of the spectator by his regard." (The very interesting discussion summarised above is contained in the following English publications: Dr. Richter, in the Art Journal for June 1894; replied to by Sir Edward Poynter in the same magazine for August, and by Sir F. Burton in the Nineteenth Century for July 1894. See also Eugene Müntz's Leonardo da Vinci, vol. i. ch. vi.; the Catalogue of Milanese Pictures at the Burlington Fine Arts Club, 1898, pp. li.-lvi.; Mr. Claude Phillips in the National Review, Dec. 1894; and "D. S. M." in the Saturday Review, May 28, 1898, and Feb. 18, 1899. The English articles contain references to the articles on Dr. Richter's side by Motta, Frizzoni, and others.)

1094. PORTRAIT OF A MAN.

Ascribed to Sir Antonio More (Flemish: 1512-1578).

Antonij Mor (commonly known in this country as Sir Antonio More, though when and by whom he was knighted does not appear) succeeded Holbein as the principal portrait-painter settled in England. "Mor's style," it has been said, "so much resembles that of Holbein as to frequently create a doubt to which of them a portrait is to be attributed; but he is not so clear and delicate in his colouring, perhaps from having painted so much in Spain, as that master." He was born at Antwerp and studied under Schorel (see 720). An example of his earlier manner, dated 1544, is in the Berlin Museum. Mor afterwards travelled in Italy, and quickly emancipated himself from the dry manner of Schorel, as his portrait of Cardinal Granvelle at Vienna, done in 1549, shows. His portraits from this time forward are remarkable for their "unpretentious dignity." Cardinal Granvelle introduced him to the service of Charles V., by whom he was sent to Portugal to paint some of the royal family. He was in the service of Queen Mary from 1554 to 1558. She presented him with a hundred pounds and a gold chain, and allowed him a hundred pounds a quarter. He was also largely employed by the Howards and the Russells and others, grandees of the court. One of his portraits of the Queen is in the Duke of Wellington's Collection at Apsley House. When Philip went to Spain to take possession of the throne, Mor accompanied him, and for some time basked in the full sunshine of royal favour. Suddenly he withdrew to Brussels, for some cause which has never been satisfactorily explained. According to one story, the king, visiting Mor's studio, laid his hand upon his shoulder as he stood at the easel—a familiarity which the artist returned by rudely rapping the royal knuckles with his maulstick, or daubing them with carmine. The officers of the Inquisition took advantage of this incident, it is said, to vent their jealous wrath against the painter. He finally established himself at Antwerp, his declining years being spent in ease and opulence—the fruits of successful industry at the courts of England, Portugal, and Spain. He is described to us as "very much the courtier, and a gentleman of grave and majestic manners"—a description borne out by the fine portrait of himself at Althorp.

1095. PORTRAIT OF ANNA MARIA SCHURMANN.

Jan Lievens (Dutch: 1607-1674).

Lievens, painter and engraver, "was a comrade of Rembrandt, but conceived a strong admiration for Van Dyck, traces of which are to be found in his portraits" (Havard: The Dutch School, p. 115). From 1631 to 1635 he was in England, where he painted the portraits of Charles I. and his Queen, and of several of the nobility. He afterwards worked at Antwerp, Leyden, and Amsterdam.

This lady (born at Cologne in 1607) was one of the most remarkable personages of her time. So great was the renown of her learning that Queen Christina of Sweden went to visit her. She was familiar with German, Dutch, French, Italian, and English; and was a good scholar in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, and Ethiopic. She corresponded with some of the most erudite men of the day, and excelled in many of the fine arts. Late in life she fell under the influence of the noted Pietist leader, Jean de la Badie, whose cause she persuaded the Princess Palatine Elizabeth to espouse. After his death (in 1674) she collected his disciples at Wierwerd, where she herself died four years later in complete destitution.

1096. A HUNTING SCENE.

Jan Baptist Weenix (Dutch: 1621-1660).

Weenix, born at Amsterdam, was the son of an architect. His master in painting was Abraham Bloemaert. Early in life he married the daughter of Gilles de Hondecoeter; his nephew Melchior Hondecoeter (No. 202) was afterwards his pupil. In 1642 his desire to see Italy caused him to leave his young wife and to carry his palette and brushes beyond the Alps. He promised to be absent only four months. He remained in Italy four years. While there he studied the coast-scenes, the people, and the architecture; "the result of his observations being the stately scenes, half real, half conventional, of which good examples are to be found in the Wallace Collection." On his return to Holland, Weenix was largely employed, first at Amsterdam, and afterwards at Utrecht. In this country his name is chiefly associated with pictures of dead game, but subjects of this class—in which his son (238) also excelled—were only the predilection of his later years.

1098. VIRGIN AND CHILD.

Montagna (Venetian: about 1450-1523). See 802.

The Child lies asleep on a window-sill. The Mother stands in an attitude of devotion. A picture of fine feeling, and characteristic of the artist's "exalted naturalism."