ELIZABETH LE BRUN.
The other distinguished artist alluded to is Marie Louise Elizabeth Vigée, who, under her married name, Le Brun, is widely known as one of the most celebrated women belonging to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
She was born in Paris, April 16th, 1755. Her father was a skillful portrait-painter, and, amid the sports of childhood in her home, she became acquainted with the principles that form the ground-work of this art. She showed very early both disposition and talents for painting. When only seven or eight years of age she drew a sketch of a bearded man, which when her father saw, recognizing it as a token of the presence of genius, he exclaimed, rapturously, “You shall be a painter, my daughter, or there never was one!”
Elizabeth long remembered this occurrence, and, in her memoir of herself, speaks of the deep impression made upon her childish feelings by the praises her father lavished on this early production.
The lessons she received at home were soon found insufficient for her rapidly-developing talent. She was introduced, as a pupil in drawing, to Briard, a painter of considerable merit, who excelled in outline and sketching. Her teacher in coloring was Davesne, after whom a picture of Marie Antoinette as Dauphine of France was engraved. The celebrated Joseph Vernet, then in the midst of his brilliant career, gave her valuable advice, and always took a fatherly interest in the gifted child. Her own father died when she was only thirteen years old, but her mother permitted her to continue her studies of the great masters in the public galleries.
Here the maiden copied from the mighty works of Rubens, from the portraits of Rembrandt and Vandyck, and from the delicate and charming female heads of Greuze. Thus the ground-work was laid of her future eminence as a colorist, and it was not long ere she was sufficiently advanced to make considerable profit out of her labors.
Her father had left no property at his death, and her mother had been too long accustomed to a brilliant and luxurious Parisian life not to feel privations sorely. She sought the means of indulgence in her accustomed pleasures by availing herself of the talents of her daughter, who now found herself obliged to support the family with her earnings.
Even when the mother entered into a second marriage, some years later, the condition of things was not improved. Madame Vigée, wedded to a rich jeweler, found herself disappointed in the expectation of increased means to minister to her vanity and extravagance. From the day of the bridal the husband showed himself so avaricious and penurious, that he refused to furnish his wife and step-daughter even the necessaries of life.
The labors of our poor little Elizabeth were again in requisition; and though her old friend Vernet advised her to give her parents only an allowance from her earnings, and reserve the remainder for her own use, all she could procure was taken from her and spent, either in the purchase of articles for the family, or for the gratification of her mother’s unbounded fondness for dress, promenades, and public amusements.
Wherever the youthful maiden appeared she was noticed for her extreme beauty, as well as talked about for her wonderful talents, and the general interest in her professional career seemed to go hand in hand with admiration of her rare personal loveliness. She tells us, in her memoirs, of several men enamored of her, who bespoke portraits from her hand in the hope, during the sittings, of making progress in her favor; but her love for art, as well as the principles of morality and religion in which she had been reared, rendered her proof against all such attempts to undermine her virtue.
When only fifteen years old she painted a portrait of her mother, which proved so admirable a piece of work that Vernet counseled her to present it to the Academy with an application for admission. Elizabeth’s extreme youth prevented her being received as a member, but she was permitted, a few years later, to be present at all the public sittings of the Academy.
It was about this time that she became acquainted with Jean Baptiste Pierre Le Brun, a painter and picture-dealer, who was then considered one of the first connoisseurs of Europe. He paid devoted attention to the lovely young artist, inducing her to visit his rare and rich collection for the purpose of study, while he manifested the deepest interest in her success. Six months after his introduction he became a suitor for her hand. She says, in her autobiography,
“I was far from the thought of marrying M. Le Brun, although he possessed a handsome face and agreeable person; but my mother, who imagined him very rich, never ceased urging me not to refuse so advantageous a proposal. So at length I yielded; but the marriage was only an exchange of one kind of trouble for another. Not that M. Le Brun was a bad-hearted man. His character showed a mixture of softness and vehemence; and his complaisance to every one made him popular. But he was unhappily too fond of the society of disreputable females, and this degrading propensity led him to a passion for gaming that ruined both of us in point of fortune. So completely had he run through all we possessed, that in 1789 I had not twenty francs for my journey out of France, although my earnings had amounted to more than a million.”
The marriage, which on the husband’s part was a mere matter of speculation, for he relied on the talents of his bride to rid him of his creditors, and enable him to live in ease and luxury, was one of those alliances common in Paris in the reign of Louis XV. The experience of our heroine was characteristic of the times. Le Brun had been previously engaged to the daughter of a wealthy Dutch picture-dealer, with whom he had transacted business. He begged his wife to keep their marriage a secret till his former business arrangements were satisfactorily adjusted. Madame consented, although she was placed in a most painful position, being beset with warnings and entreaties from her friends, urging her not to enter into a union sure to be productive of unhappiness—when, alas! the mischief was already accomplished. The Duchesse d’Aremberg predicted misery as the result of such a marriage; the court jeweler, Auber, a friend of her youth, advised her “rather to tie a stone round her neck and throw herself into the river than to commit such a piece of folly and madness.”
The young wife, however, still kept her faith in the excellence of her beloved. At last the completion of his business arrangements enabled him to declare the marriage publicly, and very soon it appeared that all these warnings were but too well founded. Le Brun first took possession of all the hard-earned property of his wife, and compelled her to increase her income by taking pupils. The sole advantage this accession of means procured for her was the more active and incessant employment that prevented her from feeling too bitterly the disappointment of her hopes of happiness in domestic life. Her husband took the money paid for her pictures and lessons to squander it on his own selfish indulgences. He occupied the first floor of the house, furnished in magnificent style, and surrounded himself with costly luxuries; while his wife was obliged to content herself with the second story, and with very plain living. Such a state of things in married life, however, was not unusual toward the close of the reign of Louis XV., and it excited no surprise.
While matters stood thus, Le Brun obtained the credit of being an indulgent husband by the indifference he showed in allowing even persons of questionable character to visit his wife, while he seldom appeared in her circles, and by his disregard of sundry cautions and rumors on the subject. Scandal, which rarely spares an ill-used wife, unless the austere seclusion of her life be more than hermit-like, whispered terrible things of Madame Le Brun, and she was even accused of owing the large sums paid for her pictures more to personal favors than to her merit as a painter. Conscious of innocence, she was wont to complain to her husband of such injustice, and he would answer, jestingly,
“Let people talk. When you die I will put up a lofty pyramid in my garden, inscribed with a list of the portraits you have painted, and then the world will know how you have come by the money you have made.”
Such mocking sympathy was all the return for her confidence and earnest appeals for protection from the unworthy husband who continued to live in luxury at her expense.
When twelve thousand francs were sent Elizabeth for a portrait of the son of Princess Lubomirska, Le Brun appropriated to his own use the entire sum except two louis-d’ors, which he gave his wife out of it.
With feelings wounded, and alienated from him by such treatment, Madame Le Brun at length appears to have resolved to make herself as happy as possible in her own way. French society was then corrupted to the core, and it was difficult to move in it without partaking of the contamination. It was especially so for one whose education had been superficial, and who had never learned to emulate the example of those pure devotees to art who had found in that a power to preserve and guide them, even amid the intrigues and dissipation of the circles that surrounded them.
Madame Le Brun had obtained the favor and intimate friendship of persons of very high rank. Marie Antoinette not only sent to her for her picture, but was accustomed to ask her to sing with her, the painter being almost as celebrated for her “silver voice” as for her professional merits. The public honors lavished upon her aided to make her labors profitable.
On one occasion, at a sitting of the French Academy, La Harpe recited a poem in honor of female genius. When he came to the lines—
“Le Brun—de la beauté le peintre et le modèle,
Moderne Rosalba, mais plus brillante qu’elle,
Joint la voix de Favart au sourire de Vénus—”
the whole assembly rose, not even, excepting the Duchesse de Chartres and the King of Sweden, and the fair artist was stunned with a burst of enthusiastic applause.
Her admission into the Academy, which had been hitherto prevented by personal jealousies and other hinderances, now took place, on the presentation of her own portrait, in 1783. This picture she had painted after the famous one by Rubens—“Le chapeau de paille”—which she had seen the year before when on a visit to Belgium. Her work was so admirable that Vernet, her ever faithful friend, saw at once that he could by its means procure the immediate enrollment of her name among the members of the Academy.
In the “poor dwelling” to which M. Le Brun’s extravagance consigned her, she managed to hold every week an evening reception, notwithstanding the limited accommodations. Her house became the rendezvous for all the celebrities of Paris, and for much of its beauty and high rank. Curious stories were afloat in regard to her expenditures in entertaining the dignified personages who visited her. It was said that her table was covered with gold plate; that her apartments were warmed with aloes-wood, and even that she kindled her fire with bank-notes. The absurdity of such rumors may well lead one to doubt others in the chroniques scandaleuses of the day, more nearly affecting her reputation.
It is certain, however, that she received guests of the highest distinction, and that her receptions were crowded to excess. The want of chairs often compelled her visitors to seat themselves on the ground. Madame Le Brun herself describes, with evident pleasure in the recollection, the embarrassment of the fat old Duc de Noailles, who one evening had to stand a long time, on account of the scarcity of seats.
Music was generally a part of the entertainment, and the fair hostess, though she had paid little attention to the superior cultivation of that art, sang most charmingly. Grétry, Sachini, and Martini here rehearsed scenes from the new operas before their representation; Garat, Azevedo, Richer, and Madame Le Brun supplied the vocal music, while the instrumental would be furnished by Viotti, Jarnowich, Maestrino, Cramer, Hülmandel, and Prince Henry of Prussia, brother to Frederick William III. He was said to be a celebrated amateur.
The petits soupers which usually terminated these delightful soirées, and to which only a few favored guests were invited, became renowned throughout France. They were said to be brilliant in Attic elegance and Parisian luxury. The popular Delille, the piquant author Le Brun, who first flattered the royal family and then became the Pindar of the Revolution; the luxurious Boufflers, the Vicomte de Segur, were among the frequenters of this sanctuary of the muses and the graces. The suppers, indeed, had a European celebrity.
One day the brother of Madame Le Brun read aloud from the travels of Anacharsis a description of an ancient Grecian banquet. The fancy came into the lady’s head of arranging one of her suppers in imitation of the feasts of the luxurious Aspasia.
The cook was immediately furnished with receipts for Greek sauces; the “little” supper-room was changed into a classic banqueting-hall, and a table made according to the antique fashion was set in the middle of the room, surrounded with Grecian draperied couches. A request was sent to the Comte de Pezay, who lived in the same building, for an antique mantle of regal purple, while the Marquis de Cubières was levied on for a golden lyre, on which he was skilled in playing.
Le Brun—not the husband, but the poet—was arrayed by the fair hands of the artist—whose taste in picturesque costume none could question—with the purple robe and a classic wig, adorned with a laurel wreath. He was thus fitted to bear his part as Pindar or Anacreon! Some young ladies, noted for their beauty, were dressed in Greek tunics, with classic coiffures, to figure as Athenian maidens; while the gentlemen guests underwent a corresponding transformation.
Those favored with invitations to this select entertainment took their places to the music of the golden lyre, and the classic air composed by Gluck,
“Le Dieu de Paphos et de Gnide,”
while the Pindar of the evening sang Anacreontic odes.
Among the delicacies that covered the board were eels and birds dressed with Greek sauces and garnished with honey-cakes; figs, and olives, and grapes of Corinth. Two beautiful slaves—Mademoiselle de Bonneuil and Mademoiselle Le Brun—served the guests with Cyprian wine, in cups brought from buried Herculaneum.
Two guests arrived late—the Comte de Vaudreuil and the financier Boutin—who had not been prepared for the surprise. They stood still, dumb with amazement, at the threshold, and seemed to think themselves transported to Athens in her day of intellectual glory!
The next day the classic banquet given by Madame Le Brun was the talk of all Paris. She was entreated to repeat the entertainment, but with proper tact declined. Some of her acquaintances took offense at the refusal and at their own exclusion, and revenged the slight (as she says) by slandering her to the king. It was averred the supper had cost twenty thousand francs, and Cubières had much ado to undeceive his majesty.
The story and the fame of the banquet traveled over the Continent; by the time it had reached Rome the cost had swelled to forty thousand; and in Vienna, the Baroness Strogonoff assured Madame Le Brun, it was reported she had spent sixty thousand. In St. Petersburg it was naturally as much as eighty thousand. “The fact is,” says Madame Le Brun, “the little affair cost me only fifteen francs.” She may be relied on as to her share of the expense, although the cost to others may have been somewhat greater.
Such exaggerated rumors, and the gossip growing out of them, caused some disagreement in the general estimation of Madame Le Brun’s talents and character. The homage she had received and continued to receive from the nobility, with her appointment as painter-in-ordinary to the queen, and the favors heaped on her by the court, helped to render her obnoxious to a people among whom attachment to royalty and aristocratic forms began to be regarded as a crime.
France was on the eve of that Revolution which was destined to uproot the existing order of things, and the woman whom Marie Antoinette had made her companion was not likely to escape without opprobrium. Besides, had she not, in 1774, before her marriage, published a work entitled “Amour des Français pour leur roi?”
When the Revolution broke out, Madame Le Brun perceived that she could no longer remain in France. The law protecting artists, and permitting them to travel in their vocation, was available for her departure.
She resolved to go to Italy, and, with poignant grief, bade adieu to her home and friends. But the journey commenced so sadly proved a triumphant progress, crowned with tokens of respect and homage.
In Bologna she was at once declared a member of the Academy. At Rome she was welcomed by a deputation of artists, who went to meet her; while the painter Menageot, who had just been appointed director of the French Academy, assigned her apartments in the palace of the institution.
In Naples she was received with marks of distinction by the queen, the sister of Marie Antoinette, and here several residents of rank sat to her for their portraits—among others, the beautiful Lady Hamilton, whom the artist painted as a Bacchante reclining on the sea-shore. This picture was highly praised, and spread far and wide the fame of Madame Le Brun.
In Florence she was requested to paint a portrait of herself for the collection of originals to which reference has already been made. She finished the portrait for this gallery, where it was placed in 1790, two years after that of Angelica Kauffman had been added to the collection.
Goethe says of the portrait of Angelica Kauffman, comparing it with that of Madame Le Brun in the same gallery: “It has a truer tone in the coloring; the position is more pleasing, and the whole exhibits more correct taste and a higher spirit in art. But the work of Le Brun shows more careful execution; has more vigor in the drawing, and more delicate touches. It has, moreover, a clear, though somewhat exaggerated coloring. The Frenchwoman understands the art of adornment; the head-dress, the hair, the folds of lace on the bosom—all are arranged with care, and, as one might say, con amore. The piquant, handsome face, with its lively expression, its parted lips disclosing a row of pearly teeth, presents itself to the beholder’s gaze as if coquettishly challenging his admiration, while the hand holds the pencil as in the act of drawing. The picture of Angelica, with the head gently inclined, and the soft, intellectual melancholy of the countenance, evinces higher genius, even if, in point of artistic skill, the preference would be given to the other.”
From a comparison of the two portraits, a contrast might be drawn in the contemplation of the lives and characters of the two artists. But we will return to Madame Le Brun, whom we find pursuing the journeys she made as a conqueror, receiving new honors and new tributes wherever she passed.
After visiting Florence and Parma, where she was elected a member of the Academy, she went to Venice, Verona, and Milan. Italy—the land where the fairest fruits of female genius in painting had been found—seemed eager to pay the homage of admiration to the gifted daughter of another clime. Compliments and felicitations were showered upon her by the countrymen of a Sirani and a Robusti.
She came at length to Vienna, where the Count Kaunitz received her with friendly welcome, and immediately introduced her at court. A golden harvest here awaited her efforts, and gallant attentions from persons in high places were not wanting. The Prince de Ligne—a type of the cavaliers of the ancien régime, whom she had known in former years at the court of Versailles—devoted himself to her service, and sang her praises in amatory verses.
Visiting Berlin, she found an old friend in the person of Prince Henry, and had a very favorable reception at court. Thence she went to St. Petersburg, where she lived some years in a brilliant circle of society under the protection of the Empress Catherine II. and Paul I.
The honors heaped upon her were crowned in 1800 by her election to membership in the Academy of Arts; but, notwithstanding the favor in which she stood with the imperial family and the nobility, and the influx of wealth that grew out of their kindness and the extended appreciation of her paintings, the condition of her health at last obliged her to quit Russia. The entreaties of the emperor and empress could not prevail upon her to remain longer than 1801.
In July of that year she returned to Berlin and received the honor of being chosen a member of the Academy. Orders for portraits were not wanting, but her short stay made it impossible to undertake them. Passing through Dresden she returned to the native land for which her heart had ever pined, arriving in safety at Paris in the winter of the same year.
The misfortunes of the Bourbons had filled her breast with sympathizing grief wherever the news had reached her. She remained true to them through all reverses, living to witness both the restoration and second and final exile of that royal line. This loyal feeling manifested itself even in her relations to the imperial family, when they were in possession of the throne.
Her picture of “Venus binding Love’s wings” had been engraved in Paris by Pierre Villu, in 1787. In London she was attacked by the painter Hoppner, who depreciated her works, and charged her with mannerism. She succeeded, nevertheless, in obtaining distinguished patrons. Two pieces that spread her renown were, a knee-piece of the Prince of Wales, and one of the Signora Grassini in a classic character. The draperies are luxuriant and rainbow-colored.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, when questioned by Northcote on the merits of two of her portraits, pronounced them “as fine as those of any painter,” and he would not except Vandyck, though his remark has been attributed to a generous unwillingness to interfere with the brief summer of her popularity. After a residence of three years in England she came to Paris to paint the portrait of Madame Murat.
At Coppet, whither she went on a journey into Switzerland in 1808-9, she painted a portrait of Madame de Staël, which aided much in spreading her reputation. Having returned from this tour, she purchased a country-seat near Marly, which became, as her house in Paris had been, the resort of a highly cultivated and brilliant society. Especially at the period of the Restoration, public attention, influenced by that of the court, seemed turned to Madame Le Brun with greater earnestness than ever.
The husband of this accomplished woman died in 1813, and five years afterward she lost her only daughter. Her death was followed by that of the brother to whom Madame Le Brun was so much attached. These multiplied afflictions weighed heavily upon her desolate heart. She sought consolation in renewed devotion to her art, and worked in her profession as assiduously as ever, notwithstanding the infirmities of advanced age. When eighty years old she painted the portrait of her niece, Madame de Riviere, and so remarkable for vigorous coloring and lively expression was this picture that it has been preserved among the best specimens of her powers in their prime of energy.
About this time, in 1835, she gave the world her autobiography, in the work entitled “Souvenirs.” In this memoir she enumerates the paintings which she had at that time executed during her life. She had finished six hundred and sixty-two portraits, fifteen large compositions, and two hundred landscape-pieces, sketched during her travels in England and Switzerland.
She had nearly completed her eighty-seventh year at the time of her death, March 30th, 1842. Her long life had been as richly productive in earnest labor as in the reward of success, and in manifold enjoyment. It may, indeed, be regarded, in its rare bloom and vigor, as a type of that brilliant period, gay and luxuriant on the surface, but concealing numerous imperfections, which preceded the French Revolution, and led, as a natural consequence, to that tremendous outbreak.
CHAPTER XV.
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Women Artists in Spain.—Their Participation a Test of general Interest.—Female Representatives of the most important Schools.—That of Seville.—Of Madrid.—The Paintress of Don Quixote.—Ladies of Rank Members of the Academy.—Maria Tibaldi.—Two female Artists besides two Poetesses in Portugal.—The Harvest greater in Italy.—Few attained to Eminence.—Learned Ladies.—Female Doctors and Professors.—Degrees in Jurisprudence and Philosophy conferred on them.—Examples.—The Scholar nine Years old.—A lady Professor of Mathematics.—Women Lecturers.—Comparison with English Ladies.—Brilliant Devotees of the Lyre.—Female Talent in the important Schools of Art.—Women Artists in Florence.—Engravers and Paintresses.—In Naples.—Kitchen-pieces.—In the Cities of northern Italy.—In Bologna.—Princesses.—In Venice.—Rosalba Carriera.—Her childish Work.—Her Genius perceived.—Instruction.—Takes to Pastel-painting.—Merits of her Works.—Celebrity.—Invitations to Paris and Vienna.—Visit from the King of Denmark.—Invited by the Emperor and the King of France.—Portrait for the Grand Duke of Tuscany.—The King of Poland her Patron.—Unspoiled by Honors.—Her moral Worth.—Residence in Paris.—Her Pictures.—The Lady disguised as a Maid-servant.—Want of Beauty.—Anecdote of the Emperor.—Rosalba’s Journal.—Visit to Vienna.—Presentiment of Calamity.—The Portrait wreathed with gloomy Leaves.—Blindness.—Loss of Reason.—Death and Burial.—Her Portrait.—Other Venetian Women.
A glance at the women artists of the romantic South will close this general survey of the eighteenth century. In Spain we find few worthy of mention. Since the commencement of the Bourbon dynasty interest in art had ceased to be the essential element in the national life that it had been under the sway of the house of Hapsburg throughout the seventeenth century. And in the Peninsula the truth was made apparent that the participation of women is a test and measure of the general interest in the studies and products of art prevailing among any people.
The most important schools, however, were not entirely without female representatives. Linked with that of Seville, we hear the name of the portrait-painter, Maria de Valdes Leal; her father and tutor, Don Juan de Valdes, after the death of Murillo, was regarded as the first living master of this school.
That of Madrid had among its disciples Clara and Anna Menendez, the latter being remembered as the painter of a series of scenes from Don Quixote. To the same school belong Donna Barbara Maria de Hueva, and Donna Maria de Silva, Duchess of Arcos, both celebrated for their skill in drawing, and members of the Academy of San Fernando, as were also Anna Menendez, and the painter Anna Perez of Navarre. Maria Felice Tibaldi, born in 1707, painted in oil, and also miniatures and pastels. She possessed great skill in drawing from life and copying historical pieces. A work of her husband, Pierre Subleyras, “The Apostolic Supper,” was copied by her in miniature. Pope Benedict XIV. sent her for it a thousand scudi, and placed it in his collection at the Capitol. After the death of her husband Maria supported herself and her children by her talents.
To these may be added Maria Prieto, the daughter of a distinguished médailleur; she practiced both painting and engraving, but died in her twentieth year at Madrid, in 1772.
Portugal, at this period, was justly proud of two women whose poetical talents had won no small celebrity, Magdalena da Gloria and the Countess de Vimiero. Beside them we may note two artists of eminence, Doña Isabel Maria Rite of Oporto, and Catarina Vieira of Lisbon; the former of high repute as a miniature-painter, the latter noted for several church pictures which she painted after the designs of her brother, Don Francisco Vieira de Mattos.
In Italy the harvest of names was greater, but fewer women attained to eminence during this century than in either of the two that had preceded it. Of women of poetical genius there was no lack at this period; and more than ever—though such are not wanting in the early annals of the principal Italian cities—learned ladies abounded. Female doctors and professors were far more in plenty than they promise to be in America in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Such phenomena were not rare in the classic Italian clime as women occupying the chair, not only of music, drawing, and modern tongues, but of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, mathematics, and astronomy. They took degrees as doctors in jurisprudence and philosophy; for example, Maria Victoria Delfini, Christina Roccati, and Laura Bassi, in the University of Bologna, and Maria Pellegrina Amoretti, in that of Pavia. Anna Manzolini, in 1758, was Professor of Anatomy in Bologna; and Maria Agnesi—who, when only nine years of age, had delivered at Milan a Latin address on the “Studies of the Female Sex”—was appointed by the Pope to the professorship of mathematics in the same university at Bologna.
It was not then esteemed unfeminine for women to give lectures in public to crowded and admiring audiences. They were freely admitted members of learned societies, and were consulted by men of pre-eminent scientific attainments as their equals in scholarship; yet, a British reviewer remarks, “It is doubtful whether the far-famed Novella was a better Greek scholar than Mrs. Browning; or Maria Porcia Vignoli, whose statue long adorned the market-place of Viterbo, more learned in natural sciences than Mrs. Somerville.”
Among the more brilliant devotees of the lyre may be mentioned, in passing, Emilia Ballati and Giulia Baitelli, who emulated the fame of Petrarch, and Laura Vanetti, in whose poems Metastasio discerned the very soul of the bard of Love.
But we must not linger over names, even of the artists who belong to our special field of observation. None of the important early schools failed in the eighteenth century, to be able to boast the ornament of female talent. In Florence, Violanta Beatrice Siries, after a prolonged course of study in Paris under Boucher and Rigaud, was noted as a portrait-painter. In the same branch of the profession, Anna Boccherini and Anna Galeotti were highly esteemed.
In copper-engraving, Catarina Zucchi and Laura Piranesi acquired some celebrity. As engravers, we hear of Livia Pisani, Violanta Vanni, and Teresa Mogalli, the last also skilled in painting.
In encaustic painting, Anna Parenti-Duclos was well known toward the close of the century. Maria Felicia Tibaldi was distinguished in Rome for her talents as a painter no less than for her virtues as a woman; and her sister, Teresa, belongs to the same category, with Rosalba Maria Salviani and Caterina Cherubini. In miniature-painting, Bianca and Matilda Festa excelled; the latter holding the professor’s chair in the Academy of San Luca.
The wreaths of poetry and painting were intertwined around the brow of Maria Maratti, the daughter and pupil of the celebrated Carlo Maratti, and the wife of the poet Zappi. The like was true of Anna Victoria Dolora, who died at a great age in 1827, in a Dominican convent.
Naples boasted at this period a famous mathematician in Maria Angela Ardinghelli. Three gifted sisters, Maria Angiola, Felice, and Emmanuela Matteis, were also noted here; with the distinguished Angelica Siscara and Colomba Garri, who practiced flower and genre painting, and produced a series of kitchen-pieces, in which they sought to idealize by artistic adornment the ordinary occupations of the frugal and industrious housewife.
The cities of northern Italy had their share of energetic women. Turin, Milan, Bergamo, Roveredo, Carpi, and Parma produced artists whose fame was limited to a narrower circle than those of Bologna and Venice, where, especially in the former city, the shadow of past glories seemed to linger.
Professor Anna Manzolini modeled excellent portraits in wax, and Clarice Vasini obtained no small celebrity as a sculptor, being a member of the Academy.
Lucia Casalini, Bianca Giovannini, Barbara Burini, Eleonora Monti, Anna Teresia Messieri, Rosa Alboni, and Teresa Tesi, belonged to Bologna, and elevated the renown of its women for painting. They aspired to imitate the example of Elizabetta Sirani.
Carlotta Melania Alfieri is mentioned as accomplished in literature, music, and painting.
Laura Vanetti, praised as a linguist, musician, and philosopher, also excelled in painting. In the beginning of this century the Princess Elizabeth of Parma, afterward married to the King of Spain, was a famous dilettante. Another Princess Elizabeth, the wife of the Archduke Joseph of Austria, was, in 1789, on account of her pastels, admitted to membership of the Academy in Vienna.
In Venice, on the other hand, the fair students of art zealously emulated the fame of Maria Robusti. This “city of the sea” had many daughters who did well in painting, though even their names are now forgotten. She gave birth to one, however, whose fame was destined to spread into a wider circle, and to renew even in foreign lands the ancient lustre of the Italian name in art. This gifted being stands almost alone in the century as one who will be remembered by posterity with admiration.