Alike great artists, when once employed on the same work, Agostino was thought to have excelled his brother.  Annibal, sullen and scornful, immediately broke with him; and their patron, Cardinal Farnese, was compelled to separate the brothers.  Their fate is striking:  Agostino, divided from his brother Annibal, sunk into dejection and melancholy, and perished by a premature death, while Annibal closed his days not long after in a state of distraction.  The brothers of Nature and Art could not live together, and could not live separate.

[Footnote A:  See an article on the Carracci in “Curiosities of Literature.” vol. ii.]

The history of artists abounds with instances of jealousy, perhaps more than that of any other class of men of genius.  HUDSON, the master of REYNOLDS, could not endure the sight of his rising pupil, and would not suffer him to conclude the term of his apprenticeship; while even the mild and elegant Reynolds himself became so jealous of WILSON, that he took every opportunity of depreciating his singular excellence.  Stung by the madness of jealousy, BARRY one day addressing Sir Joshua on his lectures, burst out, “Such poor flimsy stuff as your discourses!” clenching his fist in the agony of the convulsion.  After the death of the great artist, BARRY bestowed on him the most ardent eulogium, and deeply grieved over the past.  But the race of genius born too “near the sun” have found their increased sensibility flame into crimes of a deeper dye—­crimes attesting the treachery and the violence of the professors of an art which, it appears, in softening the souls of others, does not necessarily mollify those of the artists themselves.  The dreadful story of ANDREA DEL CASTAGNO seems not doubtful.  Having been taught the discovery of painting in oil by Domenico Venetiano, yet, still envious of the merit of the generous friend who had confided that great secret to him, Andrea with his own hand secretly assassinated him, that he might remain without a rival.  The horror of his crime only appeared in his confession on his death-bed.  DOMENICHINO seems to have been poisoned for the preference he obtained over the Neapolitan artists, which raised them to a man against him, and reduced him to the necessity of preparing his food With his own hand.  On his last return to Naples, Passeri says, “Non fu mai piu veduto da buon occhio da quelli Napoletani:  e li Pittori lo detestavano perche egli era ritornato—­mori con qualche sospetto di veleno, e questo non e inverisimile perche l’interesso e un perfido tiranno.”  So that the Neapolitans honoured Genius at Naples by poison, which they might have forgotten had it flourished at Rome.  The famous cartoon of the battle of Pisa, a work of Michael Angelo, which he produced in a glorious competition with the Homer of painting, Leonardo da Vinci, and in which he had struck out the idea of a new style, is only known by a print which has preserved the wonderful composition; for the original, it is said, was cut into pieces by the mad jealousy of BACCIO BANDINELLI, whose whole life was made miserable by his consciousness of a superior rival.