The Cathedral of Cordova still possesses his famous Supper, but in so faded and ruinous a condition that it is impossible to judge fairly of its merits.  Palomino extols the dignity and beauty of the Saviour’s head, and the masterly discrimination of character displayed in those of the apostles.  Of the jars and vases standing in the foreground, it is related that while the picture was on the easel, these accessories attracted, by their exquisite finish, the attention of some visitors, to the exclusion of the higher parts of the composition, to the great disgust of the artist.  “Andres!” cried he, somewhat testily, to his servant, “rub out these things, since after all my care and study, and amongst so many heads, figures, hands, and expressions, people choose to see nothing but these impertinences;” and much persuasion and entreaty were needed to save the devoted pipkins from destruction.

ZUCCARO’S COMPLIMENT TO CESPEDES.

The reputation which the Spanish painter Cespedes enjoyed among his cotemporaries, is proved by an anecdote of Federigo Zuccaro.  On being requested to paint a picture of St. Margaret for the Cathedral of Cordova, he for some time refused to comply, asking, “Where is Cespedes, that you send to Italy for pictures?”

DONA BARBARA MARIA DE HUEVA.

Dona Barbara Maria de Hueva was born at Madrid in 1733.  Before she had reached her twentieth year, according to Bermudez, she had acquired so much skill in painting, that at the first meeting of the Academy of St. Ferdinand in 1752, on the exhibition of some of her sketches, she was immediately elected an honorary academician, and received the first diploma issued under the royal charter.  “This proud distinction,” said the president, “is conferred in the hope that the fair artist may be encouraged to rival the fame of those ladies already illustrious in art.”  How far this hope was realized, Bermudez has omitted to inform us.

THE MIRACULOUS PICTURE OF THE VIRGIN.

The eminent American sculptor Greenough, who has recently (1853) departed this life, wrote several years ago a very interesting account of a wonderful picture at Florence, from which the following is extracted: 

“When you enter the church of Santissima Annunziata, at Florence, your attention is drawn at once to a sort of miniature temple on the left hand.  It is of white marble; but the glare and flash of crimson hangings and silver lamps scarcely allow your eye the quiet necessary to appreciate either form or material.  A picture hangs there.  It is the Miraculous Annunciation.  The artist who was employed to paint it, had finished all except the head of the Virgin Mary, and fell asleep before the easel while the work was in that condition.  On awakening, he beheld the picture finished; and the short time which had elapsed, and his own position relative to the canvas, made it clear (so says the tradition) that a divine hand had completed a task which, to say the least, a mortal could only attempt with despair.