irst made them celebrated, would be amazed indeed if they knew what
a Jack-of-all-trades a poor painter must become before he can gain his
daily bread.

The picture by Correggio which I was now commissioned to copy had been
lent to the nuns by a Catholic gentleman of fortune, who prized it as
the gem of his collection, and who had never before trusted it out of
his own hands. My copy, when completed, was to be placed over the high
altar of the convent chapel; and my work throughout its progress was
to be pursued entirely in the parlor of the nunnery, and always in the
watchful presence of one or other of the inmates of the house. It was
only on such conditions that the owner of the Correggio was willing to
trust his treasure out of his own hands, and to suffer it to be copied
by a stranger. The restrictions he imposed, which I thought sufficiently
absurd, and perhaps offensively suspicious as well, were communicated
to me politely enough before I was allowed to undertake the commission.
Unless I was inclined to submit to precautionary regulations which would
affect any other artist exactly as they affected me, I was told not
to think of offering to make the copy; and the nuns would then address
themselves to some other person in my profession. After a day's
consideration, I submitted to the restrictions, by my wife's advice,
and saved the nuns the trouble of making application for a copier of
Correggio in any other quarter.

I found the convent was charmingly situated in a quiet little valley
in the West of England. The parlor in which I was to paint was a large,
well-lighted apartment; and the village inn, about half a mile off,
afforded me cheap and excellent quarters for the night. Thus far,
therefore, there was nothing to complain of. As for the picture, which
was the next object of interest to me, I was surprised to find that
the copying of it would be by no means so difficult a task as I had
anticipated. I am rather of a revolutionary spirit in matters of art,
and am bold enough to think that the old masters have their faults
as well as their beauties. I can give my opinion, therefore, on the
Correggio at the convent independently at least. Looked at technically,
the picture was a fine specimen of coloring and execution; but looked
at for the higher merits of delicacy, elevation, and feeling for the
subject, it deserved copying as little as the most commonplace work that
any unlucky modern artist ever produced. T