I cannot conclude what I have to say about art and artists without some reference to painting, an art which was formerly illustrious, when it was held in esteem both by kings and peoples, and ennobled those whom it deigned to transmit to posterity. But at the present day, it is completely banished in favor of marble, and gold. For not only are whole walls now covered with marble, but the marble itself is carved out or marqueted so as to represent objects and animals of various kinds. No longer now are we satisfied with formal compartitions of marble, or with slabs extended like so many mountains in our chambers, but we must begin to paint the very stone itself! This art was invented in the reign of Claudius, but it was in the time of Nero that we discovered the method of inserting in marble spots that do not belong to it, and so varying its uniformity; representing the marble of Numidia variegated with ovals, and that of Synnada veined with purple; just as luxury might have willed that Nature should produce them. Such are our resources when the quarries fail us, and luxury ceases not to busy itself, in order that as much as possible may be lost whenever a conflagration happens.
Correct portraits of individuals were formerly transmitted to later ages by painting; but instead brazen shields are now set up, and silver faces, with only some obscure traces of the countenance: the very heads, too, of statues are changed, a thing that has given rise before now to many a current sarcastic line; so true it is that people prefer showing off the valuable material, to having a faithful likeness. Yet, at the same time, we tapestry the walls of our galleries with old pictures, and we prize the portraits of strangers; while as to those made in honor of ourselves, we esteem them only for the value of the material, for some heir to break up and melt, and so forestall the noose and slip-knot of the thief.
Far different was it in the days of our ancestors. Then there were to be seen in their halls not statues made by foreign artists, or works in bronze or marble, but family portraits modelled in wax, each in its separate niche, always in readiness to accompany the funeral processions of the family; occasions on which every member of the family was always present. And the pedigree of the individual was traced in lines upon each of these colored portraits. Their libraries, too, were filled with archives and memoirs, stating what each had done when holding the magistracy. On the outside, again, of their houses, and around the thresholds of their doors, were placed other statues of those mighty spirits, in the spoils of the enemy there affixed, memorials which a purchaser even was not allowed to displace; so that the very house continued to triumph even after it had changed its master. A powerful stimulus to emulation this, when the walls each day reproached an unwarlike owner for having thus intruded upon the triumphs of another! There is still extant an address by the orator Messala, full of indignation, in which he forbids that there should be inserted among the images of his family any of those of the stranger race of the Lævini. It was the same feeling, too, that extorted from old Messala those compilations of his “On the Families of Rome;” when, upon passing through the hall of Scipio Pomponianus, he observed that, in consequence of a testamentary adoption, the Salvittos—for that had been their surname—to the disgrace of the Africani, had surreptitiously contrived to assume the name of the Scipios. But the Messalas must pardon me if I remark, that to lay a claim, though an untruthful one, to the statues of illustrious men, shows some love for their virtues, and is much more honorable than to have such a character that no one should wish to claim them.
There is a new invention, too, which we must not omit to notice. Not only do we consecrate in our libraries, in gold or silver, or at all events, in bronze, those whose immortal spirits hold converse with us in those places, but we even go so far as to reproduce the ideal of features all remembrance of which has ceased to exist; and our regrets give existence to likenesses that have not been transmitted to us, as in the case of Homer. Nothing can be a greater proof of having achieved success in life, than a lasting desire on the part of one’s fellow-men, to know what one’s features were. This practice of grouping portraits was first introduced at Rome by Asinius Pollio, who was also the first to establish a public library, and so make the works of genius the property of the public. Whether the kings of Alexandria and of Pergamus, who had so energetically rivalled each other in forming libraries, had previously introduced this practice, I cannot so easily say.
That a strong passion for portraits formerly existed, is attested both by Atticus, the friend of Cicero, who wrote a work on this subject, and by Varro, who conceived the very liberal idea of inserting, by some means or other, in his numerous volumes, the portraits of seven hundred individuals; as he could not bear the idea that all traces of their features should be lost, or that the lapse of centuries should get the better of mankind. Thus was he the inventor of a benefit to his fellow-men, that might have been envied by the gods themselves; for not only did he confer upon them immortality, but he transmitted them to all parts of the earth; so that it might be possible for them to be present, everywhere and each occupy his niche. This service Varro conferred upon persons who were not members of his own family.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE EARLIEST PAINTERS.
We have no certain knowledge as to the commencement of the art of painting. The Egyptians assert that it was invented among themselves, six thousand years before it passed into Greece; a vain boast—evidently. As to the Greeks, some say that it was invented at Sicyon, others at Corinth; but they all agree that it originated in tracing lines round the human shadow. The first stage of the art was this, the second the employment of single colors; a process known as “monochrome-painting.” The invention of line-drawing has been assigned to Philocles, the Egyptian, or to Cleanthes of Corinth. The first who practised this line-drawing were Aridices, the Corinthian, and Telephanes, the Sicyonian, artists who, without making use of any colors, shaded the interior of the outline by drawing lines; hence, it was the custom with them to add to the picture the name of the person represented. Ecphantus, the Corinthian, was the first to employ colors upon these pictures, made, it is said, of broken earthenware, reduced to powder.
But already had the art of painting been perfectly developed in Italy. At all events, there are extant in the temples at Ardea, at this day, paintings of greater antiquity than Rome itself; in which, in my opinion, nothing is more marvellous, than that they should have remained so long unprotected by a roof, and yet preserving their freshness. At Lanuvium we see an Atalanta and a Helena, without drapery, close together, and painted by the same artist. They are both of the greatest beauty, the former being evidently the figure of a virgin, and they still remain uninjured, though the temple is in ruins. The Emperor Caligula attempted to have them removed to his own palace, but the nature of the plaster would not admit of it. There are in existence at Cære, some paintings of a still higher antiquity. Whoever carefully examines them, will be forced to admit that no art has arrived more speedily at perfection, seeing that it evidently was not in existence at the time of the Trojan War.
Among the Romans this art very soon rose into esteem, the Fabii, a most illustrious family, deriving from it their surname of “Pictor;” the first of the family who bore it, himself painted the Temple of Health, in the year of the City, 450; a work which lasted to our own times, but was destroyed when the temple was burnt, in the reign of Claudius. Next in celebrity were the paintings of the poet Pacuvius, in the Temple of Hercules, in the Cattle Market: he was a son of the sister of Ennius, and the fame of the art was enhanced at Rome by the success of this artist on the stage. After this period, the art was no longer practised by men of rank; unless we except Turpilius, in our own times, a native of Venetia, and of equestrian rank, several of whose beautiful works are still in existence at Verona. He painted, too, with his left hand, a thing never known to have been done by any one before.[228]
Titidius Labeo, a person of prætorian rank, who had been formerly proconsul of the province of Gallia Narbonensis, and who lately died at a very advanced age, used to pride himself upon the little pictures which he executed, but it only caused him to be ridiculed and sneered at. I must not omit to mention a celebrated consultation upon the subject of painting, which was held by some persons of the highest rank. Q. Pedius, who had been honored with the consulship and a triumph, and who had been named by the Dictator Cæsar as co-heir with Augustus, had a grandson, dumb from his birth, whom the orator Messala, to whose family his grandmother belonged, recommended to be brought up as a painter. He died, however, in his youth, after having made great progress in the art. But the high estimation in which painting came to be held at Rome, was principally due, in my opinion, to Valerius Maximus Messala, who, in the year of the City, 490, was the first to exhibit a painting to the public; a picture, namely, of the battle in which he had defeated the Carthaginians and Hiero in Sicily, upon one side of the Curia Hostilia. The same thing was done, too, by Lucius Scipio, who placed in the Capitol a painting of the victory which he had gained in Asia; but his brother Africanus was offended at it, for his son had been taken prisoner in the battle. Lucius Hostilius Mancinus, who had been the first to enter Carthage at the final attack, gave a similar offence to Æmilianus, by exposing in the Forum a painting of that city and the attack upon it, he himself standing near the picture, and describing to the spectators the various details of the siege; a piece of complaisance which secured him the consulship at the ensuing Comitia.