We have given elsewhere the description of his usual dress. La Houssaye says, ‘Je l’ai toujours vu habillé de la même sorte, de la même couleur, ce qui étoit brune, couleur de musc.’ He blamed the Italian mode of horsemanship, with all their curvetings and caracolings, which, he said, were dangerous, and lost no end of time. Maurice left behind him a glorious reputation, but a heavy blot rests on his escutcheon.
No. 4.
SIR ANTONIO MORO.
Black suit and ruff. Black cap.
BORN 1512, DIED 1588.
By Himself.
HE was a native of Utrecht, and a disciple of John Schoorel, who was distinguished not only as a painter, being a pupil of Mabuse, but as a poet and orator. Moro travelled in Italy, and studied the great masters. He painted historical and sacred subjects, but excelled in portraits, and followed the style of Holbein. Cardinal Granvelle recommended him to Charles V., for whom he painted Prince Philip, afterwards Philip II. of Spain. The Emperor gave Moro a commission to the Court of Portugal, to execute the portraits of King John III., his wife, Catherine of Austria, and the Infanta Mary, afterwards Queen of Spain. Sir William Stirling, in his delightful work on Spanish painters, says, ‘Moro’s pencil made that marrying monarch, Philip II., acquainted with the forms and features of his two first wives, the Maries of Portugal and England.’ For the three Portuguese pictures the painter received six hundred ducats, besides a costly gold chain, presented to him by the nobles of the country, and other gifts. But when he went to England to take sittings of Queen Mary (the betrothed of Philip of Spain), Antonio was remunerated still more magnificently. He received one hundred pounds (then esteemed a large sum) for the Queen’s likeness, and a splendid chain of gold, with a pension of one hundred pounds a quarter on his appointment as painter to the Court. He remained in England during the whole of Mary’s reign, and both the Queen and her husband sat to him several times. He also painted numbers of the courtiers and nobility, but, from omitting to annex the names, the identity of many of his characteristic portraits is lost. Horace Walpole regrets this neglect in his notice of Moro, and says truly, ‘The poorest performer may add merit to his works by identifying the subjects, and this would be a reparation to the curious world, though it would rob many families of imaginary ancestors.’
When Queen Mary died, Moro, or More, as he was called in England, followed King Philip to Spain, where he remained for some time in high favour. He left the country suddenly, and the cause of his departure has been differently accounted for by different writers. The version of the story most currently believed is as follows:—King Philip frequented the artist’s studio, and one day, as he was standing beside the easel, his Majesty familiarly placed his hand on Moro’s shoulder. The painter turned round abruptly, and smeared the Royal hand with carmine. The attendants stood aghast at this breach of etiquette; but the King appeared to treat the matter as a jest. It was not long, however, before Moro received a warning from his patron that the officers of the Inquisition were on his track, and that he was in imminent danger of arrest on the plea of having ‘bewitched the King.’