DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61252#0213
INTRODUCTION.
169
culous truth, the Velasquez in the Aguado Gallery, and
Titian’s portrait of Violante Palma, in the Florence Gal-
lery.* Northcote used to say, that when he encountered a
poor or mediocre picture, he felt inclined to burn his pen-
cils and canvas in a fit of discouragement and disgust; but
after looking at one of Vandyck’s or Titian’s heads, he
would go home and paint cheerfully the live-long day.
One can understand this; but here even such generous
emulation stands abashed, annihilated, and all the hyper-
boles of admiration are common-place.
Van Dyck’s famous portrait of that princely patron of
art, the Earl of Arundel, is here—much effaced by cleaning;
but the Van Dycks and Titians have this advantage, that
scrub them as you will, you can never scrub the life out of
them. They have a tenacity of vitality which is in the
conception, and will remain while a scrap of colour—an
eye, a lip—survives on the canvas. I wonder sometimes
how certain picture restorers can ever dare to lay their
hands on such things. I wonder they are not paralysed,
like the executioner when he was going to behead Mon-
mouth.
Some other fine portraits on this side of the room, should
be pointed out to the visitor; that of the young Venetian,
with his aristocratic head, by Parmigiano; “ the Artist,”
by Van Dyck; the good Pope Benedict, by Subleyras, a
painter rarely met with in England; and above these
the “ St. Gregory,” by Guercino; and a picture attributed
to Velasquez, representing St. Francis Borgia, when Duke
of Gandia, at the door of the Jesuits’ convent; a picture to
which the story of Gandia, so well told in a recent number
of the Edinburgh Review, has lent a modern interest. At
the south end of the Gallery, hangs a singularly fine picture,
the masterpiece of Gherardo delle Notti; another picture
* Called “ Titian’s Flora.”
I
169
culous truth, the Velasquez in the Aguado Gallery, and
Titian’s portrait of Violante Palma, in the Florence Gal-
lery.* Northcote used to say, that when he encountered a
poor or mediocre picture, he felt inclined to burn his pen-
cils and canvas in a fit of discouragement and disgust; but
after looking at one of Vandyck’s or Titian’s heads, he
would go home and paint cheerfully the live-long day.
One can understand this; but here even such generous
emulation stands abashed, annihilated, and all the hyper-
boles of admiration are common-place.
Van Dyck’s famous portrait of that princely patron of
art, the Earl of Arundel, is here—much effaced by cleaning;
but the Van Dycks and Titians have this advantage, that
scrub them as you will, you can never scrub the life out of
them. They have a tenacity of vitality which is in the
conception, and will remain while a scrap of colour—an
eye, a lip—survives on the canvas. I wonder sometimes
how certain picture restorers can ever dare to lay their
hands on such things. I wonder they are not paralysed,
like the executioner when he was going to behead Mon-
mouth.
Some other fine portraits on this side of the room, should
be pointed out to the visitor; that of the young Venetian,
with his aristocratic head, by Parmigiano; “ the Artist,”
by Van Dyck; the good Pope Benedict, by Subleyras, a
painter rarely met with in England; and above these
the “ St. Gregory,” by Guercino; and a picture attributed
to Velasquez, representing St. Francis Borgia, when Duke
of Gandia, at the door of the Jesuits’ convent; a picture to
which the story of Gandia, so well told in a recent number
of the Edinburgh Review, has lent a modern interest. At
the south end of the Gallery, hangs a singularly fine picture,
the masterpiece of Gherardo delle Notti; another picture
* Called “ Titian’s Flora.”
I