DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61252#0313
THE GROSVENOR GALLERY. 269
embroidered mantle, and a rich necklace, with other orna-
ments.
These two portraits are finished specimens of what art can
do. “ The power of painting can no farther go!” exclaims
one critic; “ The permission to look upon them is a privi-
lege,” says another. We know not whom they represent
—we shall never know. Yet who ever looked upon them
without faith and delight, without the conviction that these
two personages once lived, and moved, and had a being,
and must have looked just as we see them now before
us? For in the shadowy splendour, the lustrous vapoury
atmosphere, which art has thrown round them, there is
that which enhances, not lessens, the effect of truth. The
means, the material, are kept out of sight; “ 1’arte che
tutto fa, nulla si scuopre.” There is no workmanship, no
effort apparent. Nothing ever gave me more the impres-
sion of a creation—something brought into being by a
word, a wish, a breath—a miracle!
P. 3 ft. 8 in. by 3 ft. 2 in. In 1809 these pictures were in the
collection of M. Grand-Pre, and valued at 40,000 francs (1600?.)
Soon afterwards they were purchased by the Marquess of Westminster,
for a much less sum, I presume, but the price does not appear.
(Smith’s Cat. 294 and 534.)
108 The Visitation—or, as the same subject is frequently
called, the Salutation of Elizabeth. She is descending the
steps of her house to receive and embrace with outstretched
arms the Virgin Mary, who appears to have just alighted
from her journey. Zachariah, supported by a youth, is
seen following Elizabeth. Behind the Virgin, a negress is
in the act of removing a mantle from her shoulders; beyond
is seen a servant holding the ass on which Mary has jour-
neyed. A peacock, with gem-like train, and a hen with a
brood of chickens, are seen in the foreground. Though
the representation thus conceived, appears like a scene of
every-day life, nothing can be more poetical than the treat-
ment, more intensely true and noble than the expression of
the diminutive figures, more masterly and finished than
the execution. It is equal as a piece of effect, to the pic-
ture in the National Gallery, (the “ Woman taken in
embroidered mantle, and a rich necklace, with other orna-
ments.
These two portraits are finished specimens of what art can
do. “ The power of painting can no farther go!” exclaims
one critic; “ The permission to look upon them is a privi-
lege,” says another. We know not whom they represent
—we shall never know. Yet who ever looked upon them
without faith and delight, without the conviction that these
two personages once lived, and moved, and had a being,
and must have looked just as we see them now before
us? For in the shadowy splendour, the lustrous vapoury
atmosphere, which art has thrown round them, there is
that which enhances, not lessens, the effect of truth. The
means, the material, are kept out of sight; “ 1’arte che
tutto fa, nulla si scuopre.” There is no workmanship, no
effort apparent. Nothing ever gave me more the impres-
sion of a creation—something brought into being by a
word, a wish, a breath—a miracle!
P. 3 ft. 8 in. by 3 ft. 2 in. In 1809 these pictures were in the
collection of M. Grand-Pre, and valued at 40,000 francs (1600?.)
Soon afterwards they were purchased by the Marquess of Westminster,
for a much less sum, I presume, but the price does not appear.
(Smith’s Cat. 294 and 534.)
108 The Visitation—or, as the same subject is frequently
called, the Salutation of Elizabeth. She is descending the
steps of her house to receive and embrace with outstretched
arms the Virgin Mary, who appears to have just alighted
from her journey. Zachariah, supported by a youth, is
seen following Elizabeth. Behind the Virgin, a negress is
in the act of removing a mantle from her shoulders; beyond
is seen a servant holding the ass on which Mary has jour-
neyed. A peacock, with gem-like train, and a hen with a
brood of chickens, are seen in the foreground. Though
the representation thus conceived, appears like a scene of
every-day life, nothing can be more poetical than the treat-
ment, more intensely true and noble than the expression of
the diminutive figures, more masterly and finished than
the execution. It is equal as a piece of effect, to the pic-
ture in the National Gallery, (the “ Woman taken in