ey bear but the slightest
resemblance in the face to any great master, at once trim their beard
or hair as he does, and from this cause fancy it is their business to
imitate the style of the master in their art achievements, even though
it is a manifest violation of their natural talents to do so. Neither
of us has mentioned Raphael's name, but I assure you that I have
discerned in your pictures clear indications that you have grasped the
full significance of the inimitable thoughts which are reflected in the
works of this the greatest of the painters of the age. You understand
Raphael, and would give me a different answer from what Velasquez[2.12]
did when I asked him not long ago what he thought of Sanzio. 'Titian,'
he replied, 'is the greatest painter; Raphael knows nothing about
carnation.' This Spaniard, methinks, understands flesh but not
criticism; and yet these men in St. Luke elevate him to the clouds
because he once painted cherries which the sparrows picked at."[2.13]

It happened not many days afterwards that the Academicians of St. Luke
met together in their church to prove the works which had been
announced for exhibition. There too Salvator had sent Scacciati's fine
picture. In spite of themselves the painters were greatly struck with
its grace and power; and from all lips there was heard nothing but the
most extravagant praise when Salvator informed them that he had brought
the picture with him from Naples, as the legacy of a young painter who
had been cut off in the pride of his days.

It was not long before all Rome was crowding to see and admire the
picture of the young unknown painter who had died so young; it was
unanimously agreed that no such work had been done since Guido Reni's
time; some even went so far in their just enthusiasm as to place this
exquisitely lovely Magdalene before Guido's creations of a similar
kind. Amongst the crowd of people who were always gathered round
Scacciati's picture, Salvator one day observed a man who, besides
presenting a most extraordinary appearance, behaved as if he were
crazy. Well advanced in years, he was tall, thin as a spindle, with a
pale face, a long sharp nose, a chin equally as long, ending moreover
in a little pointed beard, and with grey, gleaming eyes. On the top of
his light sand-coloured wig he had set a high hat with a magnificent
feather; he wore a short dark red mantle or cape with many bright
buttons, a sky-blue doublet slashed in the Spanish