Volume 6 — Translated From The Historisch-Politische Blaetter. Peter Cornelius, The Master Of German Painting.

Peter Cornelius was born on the 24th of September, 1783, in art-renowned Düsseldorf. Here had been collected for some time, through the artistic taste of the nobles of the Palatinate, those paintings and copies of antique sculpture known by the name of the Düsseldorf Gallery, which was afterward transferred to the Royal Palace of Munich. In the last century a school of art was also connected with this gallery.

Aloysius Cornelius, father of Peter, was inspector of the gallery, and drawing-master in the art school. Thus the boy was born in an atmosphere of art. It is said that, when little Peter was attacked by fits of childish ill-humor and uneasiness, his mother could quiet him by carrying him in her arms into the hall of antique statuary, where the stern and striking forms of the heathen divinities calmed his cries and dried his tears. If it be not historically true, it is nevertheless a poetic fact recorded in verse by his uncle, Peter Cornelius, a distinguished musician, still in Munich, that the boy, on one occasion being offered his choice of a piece of gold and a crayon, took the latter from his mother's hand, and ran immediately to make figures on the wall. This is a characteristic anecdote, though it may not be true; for during his whole life the painter despised money. Mammon had no charms for him; while his pencil, the instrument of his art, and the art itself had for him irresistible attractions. Peter grew up in the pious, stern Catholic family of his parents, and preserved to the end of his life a simple, childlike belief in his religion. Little was then known among the families of Rhineland of opposition to the faith, or of the doubts and objections of the philosophers against it. Cornelius himself, later in life, confessed that he had never read a book of philosophy. Such works were distasteful to him on account of their abstract and unideal character.

His school education was short and simple. Peter Cornelius went only four years to the primary school of his native city, as his school-fellow, Clement Zimmerman, can still attest. He made little progress; he never learned to spell correctly. Singular phenomenon! Cornelius, who thought so profoundly, and wrote so sublimely, and spoke so eloquently without preparation, like Napoleon I., could never write without blunders! But perhaps freedom from school restraint only made the genius of the artist to take a wider scope. The very fact that he did not spend many years of his life on the school-bench, filling his mind with useless items of knowledge, allowed his nature to expand, and gave him that sound freshness of mind and body, that purity of imagination, that directness and rectitude of feeling and character which are the causes of the beautiful creations of his genius.

Of the mathematics, the favorite science of modern times, he knew almost nothing. He used to say, in his curt manner, of an artistic dunce, "The booby knows as much of art as I do of algebra!" His peculiar talent displayed itself even in the primary school. When the professor of Scripture history described the scenes and persons of the Old Testament, they became real to the eyes of the boy, and on arriving home he was wont to cut their forms out of black paper with a dexterity that astonished every one. He was much in the studio of his father, who painted altar-pieces and portraits; he cleaned the pencils, brought him the colors, and performed other minor services. Soon he became a pupil in his father's drawing academy. Here he rapidly acquired the principles of art, and his father gave him Volpato's engravings of Raphael's masterpieces as models. Hand and eye of the young artist were thus early accustomed to the immortal works of the prince artist of Urbino. At the same time, he visited frequently the gallery of paintings, where the expressive and lively colored pictures of Rubens captivated his fancy. Cornelius copied at a later period several of these. In the year 1805, before the transfer of the collection to Munich, besides others he made a copy of "Diana and the Nymphs in the Chase," which was so well executed that it was very difficult to distinguish it from the original.

Young Peter now passed to the Academy of Art. The Greek classic style ruled in it at that time; and a distinguished artist, Peter Langer, was its director. Here Cornelius prosecuted his studies with the greatest diligence. He made a special study of the antiques which were extant in the collection. Still it appears that even then he had more inclination for the awakening national Christian and romantic school of Germany than for the cold imitations of ancient art.

But this very circumstance threatened to give an unlucky turn to his life. His father, Aloysius Cornelius, died in the year 1809, leaving a wife, five daughters, and two sons, with little resources. The good mother despaired of being able to provide for the support and education of her large family. The director, Peter Langer, misunderstanding the genius of Peter, then advised her to apprentice him to a goldsmith, saying that he would earn his bread more quickly at a trade, for there were too many painters. Cornelius thus experienced the same misjudgment of his superiors as Carstens in Copenhagen, and Schwanthaler in Munich.

But the maternal eye was sharper than that of the learned director. The mother recognized the decided vocation of her son, and her maternal affection triumphed. She could not determine from worldly motives to tear her son away from his high call and so Cornelius was for ever wedded to his art. How grateful was the youth of eighteen years for this determination of his mother! Cornelius himself writes of it in his celebrated report to Count Raczynski, in which he quotes a saying of his father Aloysius, that, "if we try to make perfect everything that we do, we may learn a lesson from things the most trivial." This expression is like Raphael's: "No one becomes great in art who despises the smallest detail."

In this year, (1809,) Peter Cornelius was introduced into a new society, which exercised great influence on his development and history. He went frequently to the neighboring city of Cologne, the splendidly artistic and Christian mediaeval city of the Rhine. Here he became acquainted with the noble Canon Wallraf and the two brothers Boisserée, who, at this period of Vandalic ravage and destruction, saved all that was to be saved of ancient art, and formed those precious collections which render Cologne and Munich famous. By these means Cornelius obtained a knowledge of the world of old German works of art hitherto unknown to him. They appeared to him in all the simplicity, religiosity, and freshness of the German middle ages, and he found himself drawn toward them by a kindred feeling. He studied and copied them zealously, and with greater affection than he had shown toward the gorgeous masterpieces of Italy. His study of these German works obtained for him his first appointment of any consequence.

Wallraf, who was called by the mayor of Nyon to consult regarding the restoration of the interesting church in that town, recognized in Peter Cornelius, whom he loved, the man for monumental painting. He was commissioned, therefore, to ornament the cupola and choir of the church of Nyon with frescoes. Wallraf, the theologian, who, as practical painter, also possessed wondrous gifts, determined on the character of this circle of paintings.

Cornelius executed these pictures in 1806-1808 on a yellow ground, with water colors. They represented the choirs of angels in the semi-circle; then Moses and David of the Old Testament, Peter and Paul of the New Testament, in the cupola; pictures well expressed, living and characteristic, reminding one more of the Italian than of the German school. Unfortunately these paintings, spoiled by dampness, have been retouched by modern artists, so that they may be considered as entirely lost to view.

Besides the study of the old German masters, Cornelius missed no occasion of making himself familiar with the chefs-d'oeuvre of classic antiquity. He read with avidity Homer and Virgil, and endeavored to make use of the materials of art supplied from these sources. He contended for the prize at Weimar with works from ancient mythology, but without success. He was not fitted to paint the smooth, external attributes of the ancient forms. Hence came this criticism on his works. Through the influence of Goethe he received the following note: "Valuable, good talent, and excellent essays!"

We pass over those episodes in the lives of all men—the first love of Cornelius for Miss Linder, which was unsuccessful, and made him vow never to wed any other than the muse of his art—a vow which he did not keep; his friendship with the eldest son of the merchant Flemming at Nyon, pledged under a linden-tree, and lasting until death with a loyalty like that of David and Jonathan, Orestes and Pylades, Don Carlos and Posa.

In 1809, we find him in Frankfort, after Napoleon had annexed the Rhine provinces to France and the paintings at Düsseldorf had been removed to Munich. In this centre of Germany, Cornelius having read the Faust of Goethe, and, penetrated with its spirit, represented the creation of the poet's brain on the canvas, Goethe wrote him a letter, thanking him and full of appreciative compliments to his genius. The bookseller, Wenner, in Frankfort, undertook to publish the painter's sketches; and thus enabled him to realize a long-cherished desire of going to Italy, the land of the fine arts.

At this period, in Rome, there was a colony of German artists, like an oasis of peace in a desert of trouble, who devoted themselves to the unshackling of art from the chains of mannerism and French insipidity. Karstens, the Dane, enthusiastically partial to ancient art, may be considered the leader and pioneer of this effort. Thorwaldsen, Koch, Schick, Wächter, and Reinhard followed in his footsteps. Many an artist's noble heart was then also possessed with the love of the romantic school, and inspired with its spirit. Frederic Schlegel, Tieck, Novalis, and Wackenroder aided the movement by proclaiming and teaching that all Christian art was a symbol of the heavenly; that in it all was mysterious and ideal, whilst ancient art merely represented the external and real. They taught that severity, strength, and modesty were to be sought, for in the works of pre-Raphaelite masters, who alone were the true models of Christian art. In the year 1801, the standard of this school was borne by Frederic Overbeck, of Lübeck, who was joined by the two Schadows, Pforr, Louis Vogel, and later by Philip Veit, Wach, Charles Vogel of Vogelstein, I. Schnorr, both Eberhards of Munich, Rambour of Cologne, and others. The artist world of Rome was then divided into two groups, one of which absolutely followed the ancients, and the other revived the Christian and national ideal with the spirit of the Romantic school.

When Cornelius went to Rome, he was immediately introduced to his fellow-countrymen; and he became naturally attached to their school as the illustrator of Faust and Shakespeare. He formed a friendship for Overbeck which lasted unbroken till death, through a period of fifty years! Cornelius always expressed his gratitude to Overbeck, and loved him as a brother. King Louis I., of Bavaria, with his customary wit, likened the pair of artists to two of the apostles: Overbeck, the pious and sentimental, to John; Cornelius, the fervent conqueror of the world of art, to Paul. Overbeck with several companions had rented the old monastery of St. Isidore, behind Monte Pincio, and lived there like a recluse. Cornelius, who boarded near him, was a frequent visitor. They studied and worked together. They made drawings of nature and from the antique, sat side by side at the canvas, and communicated their future plans to each other. They copied and imitated the old Italian masters Giotto, Masaccio, Ghirlandajo, Lippo Lippi, Peter Perugino, and Fiesole. They made excursions to the neighboring mountains, and relieved their labors by many a pleasant evening or innocent conversation.

Cornelius, writing about this time of his life to Count Raczynski, says: "It is impossible for me to tell you in a short notice all the incidents of my happy sojourn in Rome. But I must say we wandered over the paths of ages; I speak not only for myself, but for our association of talent and character, who drew from everything that was holy, great, and beautiful in Germany or Italy the inspiration to oppose French tyranny and frivolity."

The noble band had their battles and their sufferings. Their means of sustenance, on the one hand, were limited. "For," said Overbeck, "the fire of the enthusiasm of art does not kindle a fire on the hearth." On the other hand, the Greco-German school never failed to treat them with contempt and haughtiness. They received the nickname of "Nazarenes," which has remained attached to them ever since. The name was given partly because of their innocent life, and partly because their pictures of saints after the old Italian models had a mortified and spiritual look, as the sect of the rigorous Nazarenes are represented among the Jews.

When the war of freedom had again been renewed in Germany, the artists in Rome were fully possessed with its spirit. Since all could not take part in it, they sent substitutes to fight for fatherland. Those who remained in Rome, or were too old to wield the sword, used pencil and brush in aid of the national cause.

Inflamed by patriotism, Cornelius painted in Rome his celebrated illustrations of the Niebelungen, which had just been published, and the reading of which did so much toward awakening German self-consciousness. He painted the great heroes of those Germans who for so many years had shamefully borne the yoke of the French; and represented those natural giants of the German race without fear or reproach, full of power, loyalty, modesty, simplicity, and honor, all aglow with passion, irresistible in love and hatred! Cornelius had, in his paintings for the Niebelungen, which was henceforth seldom printed without them, given personality to the heroes of the poem. His two queens, Hagen the fierce, Sigfried, and King Günther will live among Germans as long as the Niebelungen will continue to be read. Though the faces are harsh, rough, and ungracious, like the German heroes of that time, they are nevertheless thoroughly true, sound, and characteristic.

The whole work was dedicated to the new Prussian ambassador in Rome, the celebrated historian Niebuhr. For, after the fall of Napoleon, Pius VII. returned in triumph to Rome, March 14th, 1814; the masterpieces of art taken away by the French were being gradually restored; and the ambassadors of the European courts took their stations as usual. Niebuhr came to Rome in 1816. No sooner had he, who had such a love for art and science, recognized the geniality, freshness, and imaginative power of Cornelius, his fellow-countryman from Rhineland, than he became warmly attached to the artist. Niebuhr often visited him and his companions, called him friend, and divided his wonderful learning with Cornelius.

So far Cornelius had executed in Rome only a few drawings and oil paintings. Among the latter may be named the picture of "The Three Marys at the Sepulchre," "The Flight into Egypt," and "The Wise and Foolish Virgins." But, in spite of their expressiveness and excellence, these works show that the artist had not yet found the special field for the display of his genius. His powerful imagination was confined in these subjects, and could only feel at home on the broad, high walls of fresco-painting.

Through a singular accident, he had soon a chance for his art. The Prussian consul-general, Solomon Bartholdy, had rented the old house belonging to the family of the painter Zucheri, near Trinita di Monti, and wanted to ornament it with frescoes. Cornelius was asked to undertake the task. Aided by his friends, he agreed to paint the two rooms with frescoes. They asked no fees, only scaffolding, mason work, colors, and support. The noble offer of the poor artists—rich, however, in their love of art—was accepted; and this was the origin of those renowned frescoes almost universally known by copies and descriptions of them. Cornelius, Overbeck, Philip Veit, and W. Schadow were engaged in the work. On account of the Jewish religion of Bartholdy, the artists chose the interesting story of Joseph in Egypt as the subject of their art. Cornelius painted the explanation of the dreams of Pharao and the meeting of Joseph and his brethren; Veit painted the temptation of Potiphar's wife and the seven years of plenty; Schadow, the complaint of Jacob and Joseph in prison; and Overbeck, the seven years of famine. They are beautiful, imaginative, expressive, graceful pictures, and not surpassed in coloring by the later creations of the master. All Rome, which had seen no frescoes for fifty years and was taken with the Raphael taste, was astonished at the works of the young German painter, and even yet the amateur turns with reverence to this cradle of German monumental painting in Rome, and the rooms so adorned are still rented by strangers for a high price.

Thus for the first time had Cornelius found the means of letting out the flood of his genial thoughts. He had found his vocation in fresco-painting, to which he remained attached thenceforth to the end of his life. Soon he received a new commission for his art. The rich Marquis Massimi, who had seen the frescoes in Bartholdy's house, wished to have his villa at St. John Lateran's similarly ornamented by scenes from the great classic poets of Italy. Overbeck should select his subjects from Tasso, J. Schnorr from Ariosto, Cornelius out of Dante's Divine Comedy, a poem which, on account of its depth, grandeur, and mysteries, had been a life-study of our artist. Cornelius undertook the work with delight. He executed nine illustrations to the Paradise, which show a profound knowledge of the poet and history; faces of saints breathing piety and strikingly expressive. Unfortunately these projects were not executed. Koch obtained the substitution of his own rather coarse Dante pictures, in the stead of those of Cornelius; and the latter received two calls from his own German home.

The Crown-Prince Louis, of Bavaria, who had conceived generous plans for the spread of art in his own country, came to Rome in January, 1818. Informed by his attendant physician, Ringseis, who had seen the Niebelungen pictures of Cornelius in Berlin, the prince sought out the gifted artist. Louis saw the paintings at Bartholdy's, and immediately perceived that Cornelius was the man to make art flourish in Bavaria. The prince gave him two galleries of the museum of statuary in Munich, to ornament with frescoes taken from Greek mythology. A cry of joy passed through the circle of artists; they looked on the Crown-Prince Louis as the restorer of true art and the creator of a new era. When their high patron left Rome, they celebrated his departure by a glorious feast on the evening of April 29th, 1818. Cornelius had ornamented the walls of the festival hall with symbols of the artistic calling of the prince. There were representations of Hercules cleaning out the Augean stable, and of Samson putting the Philistines to flight. Rückert, in the name of art and the artists, made the poetical address to the crown-prince. He, full of delight and gratitude, offered a toast to the German artists, and ended it, amidst loud applause, with the words, "That we may meet again in Germany!"

Cornelius now left everything else aside and devoted himself to the study of Homer and Hesiod, and continually made sketches from them. In order to have perfect leisure for this work, he spent the summer in Ariccia. In the fall, he travelled with Passavanti, the biographer of Raphael, to Naples, where he made several copies, among others the bust of a woman after Perugino, which is supposed to represent the mother of Raphael.

The time for his departure for Munich approached. Niebuhr, who became embittered against the artists and against everything Roman, endeavored to get him to remain in Prussia and to live in Düsseldorf. When Cornelius announced his departure for Munich, in order to paint the frescoes of the museum, Niebuhr wept in anger, and said, "Cornelius, why do you do this to me?" He conversed with him for a long time, and received the artist's promise to accept a call to Düsseldorf after the erection of the Academy of Arts in that town. The heart of Cornelius throbbed for Germany. He often felt homesick, and thought that, when a German artist forgets his fatherland, he loses more in character than he can gain in other respects.

Some have doubted the faith and piety of Cornelius. But they are wrong. Divisions sprang up among the German artists of Rome, and every day party spirit increased in violence. Whilst many of the romantic school in Germany looked on Christian truth, the life of the church and Catholicism, as things merely to influence the imagination and as helps to poetry, the majority of the Roman artists called "Nazarenes" were carried away by the grandeur and beauty of faith, and became fervent members of the Catholic Church. Several of those born Protestants became converts; as, for instance, Overbeck, the two Schadows, Veit, Vogel of Vogelstein, and others. A cry was immediately raised against them. Niebuhr became enraged, and sent for the works of Luther against the papacy, in order to counteract the Catholic tendencies of the artists.

The question now arises, what part Cornelius took in these quarrels. Some have called him a "free-thinker" and an enemy of Christianity. They were induced to do so from certain things that happened about this time. But it is certain that he was a firm believer in revelation and a fervent Catholic. All his friends attest the fact that he never failed to go to confession and make his Easter Communion. He had, indeed, a large heart, was very tolerant toward those who professed a different religion from his own. He never aimed at a high degree of perfection or a complete knowledge of theology. There are many degrees of the Christian life, as there are in nature. Every baptized person who simply believes the doctrines of the church and keeps the commandments is a member of the Catholic Church. But he must take a low place among her children if he does not aim at perfection, while other souls avoid the smallest sins, mortify themselves, follow the evangelical counsels, and perform acts of heroism. Cornelius belonged to the former class of Catholics. He acknowledged himself that he had never attained to a high degree of perfection, and consoled himself by saying: "In God's heaven there are many dwellings; there will be one there for a poor artist."

Cornelius, like mostly all artists, was an idealist in politics as in his judgment of Christian life. As he saw in the actual condition of Rome and the church many things which he could not reconcile with his ideal of the church, he spoke his opinions candidly and openly, like a true Rhinelander, against every abuse. He spoke of the necessity of a general council, and told the pope his views in frequent audiences. His advice was kindly taken, and the pontiff answered him quietly by saying: "My son, circumstances are often more powerful than ourselves.' We cannot cast off all that weighs upon us through life." To accuse Cornelius of being a Protestant because sometimes he expressed in art or conversation very peculiar sentiments is ridiculous. On this plea, Peter Damica, St. Bernard, and many other saints who have spoken boldly against abuses in the church should be considered as unorthodox. They say of Cornelius that he was displeased at the conversion of his Protestant fellow-artists in Rome. He is reported to have said: "If another becomes Catholic, I shall turn Protestant." But this is a fiction. The whole character of Cornelius proves it to be such. He who always inculcated truth to his pupils, and despised all hollowness and hypocrisy in life or art, cannot be supposed to have blamed men for following out to the letter their religious convictions. It is impossible. We have, besides, a testimony to prove it. When his friend, Miss Linder, became a convert to Catholicism, in Munich, in the year 1843, he wrote her a letter which is still extant. In this he praises her instead of proposing objections to her. "In Rome the news reached me," he writes, "that you had at last taken courage to make the decisive step. I am not surprised. God bless you and keep you free from spiritual pride and rigorism, (in my eyes almost the only sins.)" He cannot, therefore, have been offended at the conversion of his Protestant friends, for we find him continuing his friendship with Overbeck after the latter's entrance into the church.

Finally, Niebuhr relates an anecdote which has given rise to a doubt of Cornelius's orthodoxy. There was a supper-party of artists and learned men, one evening, in the Casarelli Palace, on the Capitol. When much wine had been drunk by the party, they went out on the flat roof of the building, and beheld the planet Jupiter shining with unusual brilliancy. Then Cornelius said to Thorwaldsen, "Let us drink to the health of old Jupiter." "With all my heart," answered Thorwaldsen. And they drank the toast. This incident is adduced as a proof that Cornelius was then a free-thinker; for he showed by his act a rejection of Christianity and a belief in paganism. But this toast proves nothing. It was a mere impulse; a jest of men over-heated by wine. There is certainly in this anecdote nothing to show a deliberate protestation against the truth of revelation.

So much for the religious element of Cornelius's character at that time.

He was now no longer solitary. He had married a Roman lady, the daughter of a dealer in works of art. She was called the Signora Carolina, a noble and good maiden, simple and naive, like the Marguerite of Faust. She bore him a daughter, and with this small family he was about to leave Rome and return to Germany.

In Munich, Cornelius became the director of a world-renowned academy, a centre of art, a friend of the king, esteemed and visited by all classes. But in Berlin he was a mere private individual, without position, thought little of, without occasion for the proper display of his artistic powers, working quietly in his studio. To use his own expression, he was "a solitary sparrow on the house-top." But this trial was necessary for the spiritual welfare and true greatness of the master. On the 12th of April, of the year 1841, Cornelius, with wife and children, had left Munich, where a farewell dinner was given him. In Dresden, he was honored by a torchlight procession of artists. On April 23d, he reached Berlin. All received him with honor and applause. He visited the celebrated men of the city, Humboldt, Grimm, Rauch, and Schinkel, who received him into their circle. Testimonials of esteem from abroad reached him. The Queen of Portugal wrote to request him to send artists to Portugal to introduce fresco-painting; and Lord Monson requested him to ornament his castle with frescoes. Cornelius travelled to England, but the sudden death of the lord and an ophthalmia of the artist necessitated his return to Berlin.

Now days of gloom began to dawn for him. The aristocratic society of the city did not suit him. He preferred his Bavarian beer to the insipid tea of the Berlin aristocracy. He could not flatter the affected connoisseurs of art. He was too independent to be a toady. "He does not approach us!" was the complaint, and men began to criticise himself and his works harshly.

Cornelius had executed a painting in oil for Count Raczynski in 1843. It was placed on exhibition. It represented the liberation of the souls in limbo by the Saviour. Though the coloring is heavy and disagreeable, still the grouping of the patriarchs and their countenances are highly characteristic and almost unsurpassable. But the cry was immediately raised by the whole crowd of art critics, "How can we call these bodiless, unnatural forms artistic, or those heavy colors painting?" They treated the artist with contempt and looked on him as a fallen man. A celebrated portrait-painter of Berlin gave expression to this sentiment: "If I found in the street a picture executed by Cornelius, I would not pick it up!" This opinion became general in Berlin. This was fortunate for the salvation of the master and for his art. He withdrew from the world, and became more recollected and devoted more exclusively to his art.

For some time he made little show. However, the king gave him an order for a work in which he had an opportunity of displaying his powers of imagination. It was the design of a shield which William IV. wished to present to the young Prince of Wales as a godfather's gift. Cornelius finished it in six weeks. It was a round shield, in the middle of which Christ is represented on the cross; in the corners appear the four evangelists, and over them the four cardinal virtues; in the four arms of the cross, baptism and the Last Supper, and their figures in the Old Testament, the gushing of the water from the rock, and the rain of manna. Round about the shield were carved the busts of the twelve apostles. On its rim were depicted scenes from the passion and triumph of Christ, from the entry into Jerusalem to the apostolic mission. In order to show the connection of the ancient church with the present, one of the apostles is represented as landing with the distinguished guests from Prussia in order to administer baptism to the prince. This little work breathes the spirit of the artist; it is genial, severe, expressive, full of style; often quaint and singular, by the induction of modern personages, Queen Victoria, Wellington, and Humboldt.

King Frederick William IV. determined, at this time, to erect a church which should vie with that of St. Peter's in Rome and St. Paul's in London. Stüler made the plan. Cornelius was to ornament the walls with frescoes. He undertook this task in 1843. He felt again all his powers revive. Exultingly he wrote to the academy of Münster, which had given the great artist the diploma of a doctor in philosophy in recognition of his ability: "A great, holy field, campo santo, has been opened to me, through the favor of Providence and the grace of my illustrious king and sovereign, in order to execute upon it what God has put in my soul. May he enlighten my spirit and penetrate my heart with his love; open my eyes to the glory of his works, fill me with piety and truth, and guide every motion of my hand!"

In order to have the requisite quiet and leisure for this gigantic work, Cornelius made a second trip to Rome, that paradise of painters and head of Catholicity. From the spring of the year 1843 to May, 1844, and again from March, 1845 to 1846, he dwelt in the Eternal City.

After his return from Rome, he labored incessantly at Berlin to finish his great undertaking. In January, 1845, the first sketch was ended; in 1846, the glorious, unequalled cartoon of the horsemen in the apocalypse, which was exhibited in Rome, Berlin, Ghent, and Vienna, and at the feet of which the whole school of Belgian artists laid a laurel crown. The government also gave him a house on the royal square, in which to prosecute his undertaking. He finished the whole series of decorations in twenty-five years. He worked with inexpressible pleasure and joy, although none of those pictures really came to its destined place. He labored without desire of fame. He painted as the bird sings on the boughs. As none of his great works or frescoes were exposed publicly at Berlin, he remained almost unknown to the people; but he found his sole delight in the love of his art, and in application to its expression.

In the year 1833, he lost his first wife. He married again, in Rome, a lady named Gertrude, distinguished for beauty and virtue. She died in 1859. His daughter Marie also died at the same time, who had been espoused to the Marquis Marcelli. Thus he drank of a bitter chalice! When he went to Rome for the last time, on the 14th of April, 1861, although aged, he made a third' marriage in espousing Theresa of Urbino, whom he had met and admired in the house of his daughter! This wife attended the last years of his life, and stood by his death-bed.

The residence of Cornelius in Berlin had made him more and more attached to the Catholic Church. He wrote in 1851 to a friend in Munich: "The invisible church is the only one to be found among German Protestants. I have tried to find a church among them here, but so far my search has been in vain. In Rome, I am always a half-heretic, but here I am more Catholic everyday." When he made his last voyage to Rome, he passed through Munich on his return, and paid a visit to his friend Schlotthauer, to whom he spoke thus: "Friend, I am now entirely of your way of thinking in religious matters. Berlin has made me entirely Catholic. Only now do I prize Catholicism sufficiently. If the King of Bavaria were here, I would seek him and say to him openly: 'Your majesty, Bavaria is still a Catholic country, and this is the cause of its strength and greatness. Try to keep it so. This is the best policy.'" To his friend Ringseis he made a similar statement, adding that he had travelled to Munich on purpose to inform them of his thorough conversion.

In another instance, also, the fervor of Cornelius's faith and charity displayed itself. He presented the committee who were engaged in erecting a Catholic hospital with a painting of St. Elizabeth surprised by her husband in the act of nursing a sick pauper in her own bed. The picture was sold, after having been lithographed, and realized a large sum for the intended purpose.

He was extremely hostile to the Life of Jesus, by Renan, and considered the attempt to take away the members of divinity from the head of Christ as highly injurious to Christian art. The gray-headed prince of painting, on this account, painted the "Resurrection," choosing for subject the very moment when the hitherto incredulous Thomas exclaims, "My God and my Lord!" He exhibited this picture with religious enthusiasm, and pointed it out to visitors, saying, "That is against Renan!" He wished to leave behind him a clear profession of his belief in the divinity of Jesus.

Cornelius spent the last six years of his life in Berlin, in a kind of hidden life, continually occupied, like Plato, in his old age, always lively, loquacious, and fond of society, so that he gathered around him a host of young artists and savans. The tranquillity of his life was only broken at this period by a few excursions. In the year 1862, he went to Düsseldorf; in 1863, to Trier on professional business. In 1864, he made his last visit to Munich, toward which his heart always yearned.

His visit to Munich shortened his life. The fatigues of the journey, and the visits which he received and was obliged to make, as well as the ovations tendered him, wore him out. He became ill, and returned sick to Berlin. A disease of the heart declared itself; in February, 1867, his case became hopeless. He called for a priest, and received all the sacraments of the church twenty-four hours before his death. He took leave of his beloved wife and friends, seized his crucifix, and breathed his last, uttering the words: "Pray! pray!" He died on the 6th of March, at ten A.M., on Ash-Wednesday. Over his remains was hung his own painting of Pentecost, as over those of Raphael the picture of the Resurrection. He was buried on the 6th of March, and all the nobility and talent of Berlin formed a part of his funeral cortége.

Death has taken from us this great master of German painting; but, to use the language of St. Bernard, it has only taken his cloak, for his spirit still lives! It lives in the heavenly Jerusalem. It lives in his works, in the history of art, and in the breasts of his pupils on earth, who bear aloft the standard of pure, ideal, religious art. All will bear testimony that Cornelius is the man who freed modern German painting from foreign mannerism, opened the way for generous monumental frescoes, which embraced with equal cordiality the three worlds of the classic German, national, and Christian manifestations; who portrayed the deepest thoughts in the most noble forms, and whose works are unrivalled in colossal proportions, richness of expression, and striking characterization, architectural proportions and dramatic life, by any masterpieces of antiquity; while, in the piety and sweetness of the countenances portrayed and the harmonious coloring of the whole, they exceed anything in modern art.

The news of his death brought sadness everywhere. In Munich, Mozart's solemn Requiem was sung for his soul. Professor Carriere pronounced a panegyric on him in the evening. A few days after, Professor Sepp pronounced another eulogium on him, calling him the Shakespeare of painting, whilst Overbeck he called the Calderon of the art.

In Stuttgart, when the news of his death was heard, the halls of the church, where a requiem was sung for his soul, were hung with copies of his own paintings. Lübke spoke on the occasion, and drew a parallel between Cornelius and Phidias and Michael Angelo. In Dresden, Hettner made the funeral discourse. Finally, in Rome, the Eternal City, from which Cornelius had gone forth to conquer a new world of art, and to which he had returned in order to draw inspiration from its associations and have a perfect intuition of the ideal, a solemn requiem was sung for him in the German national church of the "Anima," at which King Louis I., of Bavaria, who had opened the path of immortality to the artist, Overbeck, who had loved him for fifty-six years, and all the artists of Rome, assisted. A few days before, King Louis had written a letter to the widow of Cornelius, who lived in Berlin. In it occurred these words: "Be assured of my profound sympathy in your great loss; but not alone your loss, but our common loss. The sun of heaven became dark when he who was the sun of art was extinguished. But the sun will shine again in the heavens, but we shall hardly ever see another Cornelius!"

The whole world on both sides of the Alps have united in rendering homage to the genius of Cornelius, and laying crowns on his sepulchre at Berlin. But the last monument to his glory would be the ornamentation of the cathedral in that city with his wonderful compositions. That such an event should happen there was given to Cornelius the word of a king.

We who admired and loved the artist and his genius only pray that he may enjoy now an eternal, happy rest in the bosom of the Author of beauty, from whom he always drew the inspiration of his art.