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S. Zenobius Piero della Francesca Federigo da Montefeltro Melozzo da Forli The Tribuna Raphael Re-arrangement The gems The self-painted portraits A northern room Hugo van der Goes Tommaso Portinari The sympathetic Memling Rubens riotous Vittoria della Rovere Baroccio Honthorst Giovanni the indiscreet The Medusa Medici miniatures Hercules Seghers The Sala di Niobe Beautiful antiques.
I use the wrong phrase for the fact is, he had never yet found himself at all; he knew nothing of the person except a self-painted and immensely flattered portrait that hung in the innermost chamber of his heart I mean the innermost chamber he knew anything of: there were many chambers there of which he did not even know the doors.
Passing through the end corridor, where the beautiful Matrona reclines so placidly on her couch against the light, and where we have such pleasant views of the Ponte Vecchio, the Trinita bridge, the Arno, and the Apennines, so fresh and real and soothing after so much paint, we come to the rooms containing the famous collection of self-painted portraits, which, moved hither from Rome, has been accumulating in the Uffizi for many years and is still growing, to be invited to contribute to it being one of the highest honours a painter can receive.
There is a good copy of this delightful work in the Uffizi, where, in a congregation of self-painted artists, it does all but justice to the most beautiful of them all. For fineness of touch the original has never been surpassed by any hand of European or even Chinese master. Next there are the dapper little full-length portraits which Duerer inserted in his chief paintings.
She stood aghast at the picture, her own self-painted picture, of the kind brother-in-law, of whom in her heart she was really fond, married to a false, wicked woman, more than twenty years his junior, who mocked at his age and peculiarities, and flirted behind his back with any body and every body.
"The honours paid me were the greatest that were ever known from the great." The self-painted portrait is not, it must be confessed, altogether an attractive one. It is somewhat wanting in dignity, and its air of over-inflated complacency is at times slightly ridiculous. But we must not judge Sterne in this matter by too severe a standard.
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