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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of A history of Italian painting, by
+Frank Jewett Mather
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: A history of Italian painting
+
+Author: Frank Jewett Mather
+
+Release Date: January 20, 2023 [eBook #69844]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+             Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
+             images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF ITALIAN
+PAINTING ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                      _BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR_—
+
+
+             HISTORY OF ITALIAN PAINTING IN THE RENAISSANCE
+             THE COLLECTORS
+             HOMER MARTIN, POET IN LANDSCAPE
+             ESTIMATES IN ART
+             THE PORTRAITS OF DANTE
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  GIOTTO: DORMITION OF THE VIRGIN
+
+  _Berlin_
+]
+
+
+
+
+                              A HISTORY OF
+                            ITALIAN PAINTING
+
+
+                                  _By_
+
+                        FRANK JEWETT MATHER, JR.
+                             PH.D., L.H.D.
+
+        Professor of Art and Archaeology in Princeton University
+
+                                   ❦
+
+                                 LONDON
+
+                        STANLEY PAUL & CO., LTD.
+
+                   31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W. C. 2
+
+                                  1923
+
+
+
+
+                Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+                                  _To_
+
+                                =B. B.=
+
+                             IN FRIENDSHIP
+
+
+
+
+                                PREFACE
+
+
+This book has grown out of lectures which were delivered at the
+Cleveland Art Museum in 1919–20. There I had ideal hearers, beginners
+who wanted to learn and were willing to follow a serious discussion.
+Since I aim at the same sort of a reader now, I have only slightly
+retouched and amplified the original manuscript. This is frankly a
+beginner’s book. I have had to omit whatever might confuse the novice,
+including many painters inherently delightful. Controversial problems
+for the same reason have been when possible avoided. When, however, I
+have had to cope with such, I have depended more on my own eyes and
+judgment than on the written words of others. But the latest literature
+has also been used, so that even the adept should here and there find
+something to his purpose.
+
+For opinions on contested points, I have given my authority or personal
+reason in notes, which, in order not to clutter up the text, are printed
+at the end. By the same token, hints on reading and private study are
+tucked away in the last pages where they will not bother readers who do
+not need or want them. While I hope the book will be welcome in the
+classroom, I have had as much in mind the intelligent traveller in
+Europe and the private student. Throughout I have had before me the kind
+of introduction to Italian painting that would have been helpful to me
+thirty years ago in those days of bewildered enthusiasm when I was
+making my _Grand Tour_.
+
+                                                              THE AUTHOR
+
+
+
+
+                                CONTENTS
+
+
+ CHAPTER                                                          PAGE
+      I. GIOTTO AND THE NEW FLORENTINE HUMANISM                      1
+     II. SIENA AND THE CONTINUING OF THE MEDIAEVAL STYLE            59
+    III. MASACCIO AND THE NEW REALISM                              109
+     IV. FRA FILIPPO LIPPI AND THE NEW NARRATIVE STYLE             157
+      V. DAWN OF THE GOLDEN AGE: BOTTICELLI AND LEONARDO DA VINCI  201
+     VI. THE GOLDEN AGE: RAPHAEL AND MICHELANGELO                  263
+    VII. VENETIAN PAINTING BEFORE TITIAN                           323
+   VIII. TITIAN AND VENETIAN PAINTING IN THE RENAISSANCE           389
+     IX. THE REALISTS AND ECLECTICS                                451
+         NOTES                                                     473
+         HINTS FOR READING                                         489
+         INDEX                                                     491
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I
+                 GIOTTO AND THE NEW FLORENTINE HUMANISM
+
+  The Florentine ideal of Mass and Emotion—Its Humanism—The City of
+      Florence about 1300—The Position and Methods of the Painter—The
+      General demand for Religious Painting—Accelerated by the religious
+      reforms of 1200, and changed in character—Insufficiency of the
+      current Italo-Byzantine Style—Experiments towards a new manner:
+      Duccio and the Sienese, Cimabue, Cavallini and the “Isaac
+      Master”—Giotto—Immediate followers of Giotto, Andrea Orcagna and
+      the return to sculptural methods—Later Panoramists, Andrea
+      Bonaiuti and the Spanish Chapel.
+
+
+Leonardo da Vinci, from the summit of Florentine art, has written “What
+should first be judged in seeing if a picture be good is whether the
+movements are appropriate to the mind of the figure that moves.” And
+again he has expressed somewhat differently the highest merits of
+painting as “the creation of relief (projection) where there is none.”
+For Florence, at least, these notions are authoritative, and they may
+well serve as text for most that I shall say about Florentine painting.
+To give significant emotion convincing mass—this was the problem of the
+Florentine painter from the moment when Giotto about the year 1300 began
+to find himself, to that day more than two centuries and a half later
+when Michelangelo died. No Florentine master of a strenuous sort ever
+failed to perceive this mission, and no unstrenuous artist was ever
+fully Florentine. This twofold aim—humanistic, in choice and mastery of
+emotion; scientific, in search for those indications which most vividly
+express mass where no mass is—this twofold endeavor Florence shared with
+the only greater city of art, Athens. Thus Florence is to the art of
+today what Athens was to that of classical antiquity.
+
+In these two little communal republics were discovered and worked out to
+perfection all our ideals of humanistic beauty. Florence saw God, His
+Divine Son, the Blessed Virgin, and the saints quite as Athens had seen
+the gods of Olympus, the demi-gods, and the heroes simply as men and
+women of the noblest physical and moral type. Both agreed in magnifying
+and idealizing the people one ordinarily sees. For greater beauty,
+Athens represented them nude or lightly draped; for greater dignity,
+Florence chose the solemn garb of the Roman forum. Whether pagan or
+Christian, the guardians of a people’s morality were to be above haste,
+excitement, or any transient emotion. They were to express intensities
+of feeling, but a feeling more composed, permanent, and disciplined,
+than that of every day. Judgment and criticism count for as much in both
+arts as emotional inspiration. The great Florentine artist is a thinker;
+he is often poet and scientist, sculptor and architect, besides being a
+painter. Behind his painting lies always a problem of mind, and as sheer
+personalities the greatest painters of Siena, Venice, and Lombardy often
+seem mere nobodies when compared even with the minor Florentines. We
+should know something about a city that produced personality so
+generously, and before considering Giotto, the first great painter
+Florence bred, we shall do well to look at Florence as he saw it about
+the year 1300, being a man in the thirties.
+
+Florence was then as now a little city, its population about 100,000
+souls, but it was growing. The old second wall of about two miles’
+circuit was already condemned in favor of a turreted circuit of over
+six. Up the Arno the forest-clad ridge of Vallombrosa was much as it is
+today; down the valley the jagged peaks of the Carrara mountains barred
+the way to the sea. The surrounding vineyards and olive orchards by
+reason of encroaching forest were less extensive than they are now, but
+through every gate and from every tower one could see smiling fields
+guarded by battlemented villas. In the city, the fortress towers of the
+old nobility, partizans mostly of the foreign Emperor, rose thickly, but
+already dismantled at their fighting tops, for the people, meaning
+strictly the ruling merchant and manufacturing classes, had lately taken
+the rule from the old nobles. Many of these had fled; some had been
+banished, as was soon to be that reckless advocate of the emperor, Dante
+Alighieri, an excellent poet of love foolishly dabbling in politics.
+Other patricians sulked in their fortress palaces. Some shrewdly got
+themselves demoted and joined the ruling trade guilds. Of these guilds a
+big four, five, or six, governed the city, while a minor dozen had
+political privilege. Only guild members voted for the city officers. The
+guilds combined the function of a trade union and an employer’s
+association, including all members of the craft from the youngest
+apprentice to the richest boss-contractor. Such a guild as the notaries,
+must have been much like a bar association, while the wholesale
+merchants’ guild must have resembled a chamber of commerce. The guild
+folk had early allied themselves with the Pope, the only permanent
+representative of the principle of order in Italy. The Pope was also the
+bulwark of the new free communes against the claims of the Teutonic
+Emperors. So in Florence piety, liberty, and prosperity were convertible
+terms.
+
+Within the narrow walls was a bustling, neighborly, squabbling and
+making-up life. Everybody knew everybody else. The craftsman worked in
+the little open archways you may still see in the Via San Gallo, in
+sight and hearing of the passing world. Of weavers’ shops alone there
+were 300. No western city was ever prouder than Florence in those days.
+Her credit was good from the Urals to the Pentland Hills. Her gold
+florin was everywhere standard exchange. She had secret ways of
+finishing the fine cloths that came in ships and caravans from Ghent,
+Ypres, and Arras; she handled the silks of China and converted the raw
+pelts of the north into objects of fashion.
+
+Her civic pride was actively expressing itself in building. Between 1294
+and 1299 she had projected a new cathedral, the great Franciscan church
+of Santa Croce, a new town hall, and the massive walls we still see. For
+stately buildings she had earlier had only the Baptistry, in which every
+baby was promptly christened, and the new church of the Friars Preachers
+(Dominicans), Santa Maria Novella. In considering this Florence you must
+think of a hard-headed, full-blooded, ambitious community, frankly
+devoted to money-making, but desiring wealth chiefly as a step towards
+fame. Since the painter could provide fame in this world and advance
+one’s position in the next, his estate was a favored one.
+
+The painter himself was just a fine craftsman. He kept a shop and called
+it such—a _bottega_. He worked only to order. There were no exhibitions,
+no museums, no academies, no art schools, no prizes, no dealers. The
+painters modestly joined the guild of the druggists (_speziali_), who
+were their color makers, quite as the up-to-date newspaper reporter
+affiliates himself with the typographical union. When a rich man wanted
+a picture, he simply went to a painter’s shop and ordered it, laying
+down as a matter of course the subject and everything about the
+treatment that interested him. If the work was of importance, a contract
+and specifications were drawn up. The kind of colors, pay by the job or
+by the day, the amount to be painted by the contracting artist himself,
+the time of completion, with or without penalty—all this was precisely
+nominated in the bond. Naturally the painter used his shop-assistants
+and apprentices as much as possible. Often he did little himself except
+heads and principal figures. But he made the designs and carefully
+supervised their execution on panel or wall. A Florentine painter’s
+_bottega_ then had none of the preciousness of a modern painter’s
+studio. It was rather like a decorator’s shop of today, the master being
+merely the business head and guiding artistic taste. When we speak of a
+fresco by Giotto, we do not mean that Giotto painted much of it, any
+more than a La Farge window implies that our great American master of
+stained-glass design himself cut and set the glass. The painter of
+Florence had to be a jack-of-all-trades, a color grinder, a cabinet
+maker, and a wood carver; a gilder; to be capable of copying any design
+and of inventing fine decorative features himself. He must be equally
+competent in the delicate methods of tempera painting as in the resolute
+procedures of fresco.
+
+These two methods set distinct limits to the work and its effects. The
+colors were ground up day by day in the shop. Each had its little pot.
+There was no palette. Hence only a few colors were used, and with little
+mixing. For tempera painting a good wooden panel—preferably of
+poplar—was grounded with successive coats of finest plaster of Paris in
+glue and rubbed down to ivory smoothness. The composition was then
+copied in minutely from a working drawing. The gold background inherited
+from the workers in mosaic was laid on in pure leaf. The composition was
+first lightly shaded and modelled either in green or brown earth, and
+then finished up a bit at a time, in colors tempered with egg or
+vegetable albumen. The paints were thick and could not be swiftly
+manipulated; the whole surface set and so hardened that retouching was
+difficult. How so niggling a method produced so broad and harmonious
+effects will seem a mystery to the modern artist. It was due to system
+and sacrifice. Though the work was done piecemeal, everything was
+thought out in advance. Dark shadows and accidents of lighting which
+would mar the general blond effect were ignored. The beauty desired was
+not that of nature, but that of enamels and semi-precious stones. These
+panels are glorious in azures, cinnabars, crimsons, emerald-greens, and
+whites partaking of all of these hues. Their delicacy is enhanced by
+carved frames, at this moment, 1300, simply gabled and moulded; later
+built up and arched and fretted with the most fantastic gothic features.
+
+If the painter in tempera required chiefly patience and delicacy, the
+painter in fresco must have resolution and audacity. He must calculate
+each day’s work exactly, and a whole day’s work could be spoiled by a
+single slip of the hand in the tired evening hour. For fresco, the
+working sketch was roughly copied in outline on a plaster wall. Then any
+part selected for a day’s work was covered with a new coat of fine
+plaster. The effaced part of the design must be rapidly redrawn on the
+wet ground. Then the colors were laid on from their little pots, and
+only the sound mineral colors which resist lime could be employed. The
+vehicle was simply water. The colors were sucked deep into the wet
+plaster, and united with it to form a surface as durable as the wall
+itself. Generally the colors were merely divided into three
+values,—light, pure colors, and dark. Everything was kept clear, rather
+flat, and blond, highly simple and beautifully decorative. One of the
+later painters, Cennino Cennini (active about 1400), tells us that a
+single head was a day’s work for a good _frescante_. The touch had to be
+sure, for a mis-stroke meant scraping the wet plaster off, relaying it,
+and starting all over again. The fresco painter accordingly needed
+discipline and method. Nothing could be farther from modern
+inspirational methods. Where everything was systematized and calculated
+in advance, you will see it was quite safe for a master to entrust his
+designs to pupils who knew his wishes. Every fresco when dry was more or
+less retouched in tempera, but the best artists did this sparingly,
+knowing that the retouches would soon blacken badly or flake off.
+
+So much for the shop methods. Now for him who makes shops possible—the
+patron. A wealthy Florentine as naturally wanted to invest in a frescoed
+chapel as a wealthy American does in a fleet of motor cars. Considering
+the changed value of money, one indulgence was about as costly as the
+other. But the Florentine never quite regarded paintings as luxuries.
+They were necessary to him. He loved them. They enhanced his prestige in
+this world and improved his chances in the next. Then to beautify a
+church was really to magnify the liberty and prosperity of Florence,
+which largely derived from the Holy See. Recall that every Florentine
+was born a Catholic, baptized in the fair Church of St. John with the
+name of a saint. This saint, he believed, could aid him morally and
+materially, was in every sense his celestial patron. It paid to do the
+saint honor, and that could best be done through the painter’s art. The
+poorest man might have a small portrait of his patron, a rich man might
+endow a chapel and cause all his patron’s miracles to be pictured on the
+wall. Think also that every altar—a dozen or more in every large
+church—was a shrine[1], containing the bread and wine that by the
+never-ceasing miracle of the Mass became the Saviour’s body and blood;
+and was also a reliquary or tomb, containing in whole or part the body
+of some saint. Every altar then, and every chapel inclosing one, cried
+out for a twofold interpretation of its meaning. Everything about the
+Eucharist had to be explained (involving pretty nearly all of Biblical
+history), and the particular relic required similar illumination. Since
+many of the faithful could not read, and the Catholic Church has ever
+been merciful as regards sermonizing, these explanations of the altar as
+miracle shrine of Our Lord and as tomb of a particular saint were best
+made pictorially, and generally were so made.
+
+Such motives for picture-making Florence of course shared with the
+entire Christian world. It remains to explain why she wanted more
+painting and better than any other mediæval city. She wanted more
+painting chiefly because of her exceptional civic pride and prosperity,
+she wanted better painting because she had moved ahead of the world
+towards finer, more passionate, and conscious experiences of life which
+the older painting was powerless to express. About the year 1200, a
+century before the time we are considering, there flourished two great
+religious leaders who gave to Christianity a new dignity and appeal. St.
+Dominic, with his disciple, St. Thomas Aquinas, endeavored to make
+Christianity more reasonable, St. Francis of Assisi endeavored to make
+it more heartfelt and compassionate. They founded two monastic orders
+with divergent yet harmonious aims. The Dominicans called men to a life
+of study and self-examination, enlisting the human reason to explain and
+justify the universe under the Christian scheme; the Franciscans called
+men to poverty, humility, and chastity, and service to the unfortunate.
+Between the two—one supplying the light of the reason and the other the
+light of the heart—they overcame heresies which had menaced both
+Christianity and civilization and roused the Church out of its dogmatic
+slumber. It was no longer enough for the Church to threaten. Men yielded
+to her now only on condition that their heads be convinced or their
+hearts touched. In Florence, where a rationalizing shrewdness and a real
+warm-heartedness singularly blended, the double appeal was irresistible.
+By and large the whole city either schematized with the Dominicans or
+slummed with the Franciscans. Here was urgent new matter requiring an
+art that could move and persuade.
+
+Together with this religious revival and the political and commercial
+progress we have noted, came a literary revival. Before the end of the
+13th century such poets as Guido Guinizelli, Guido Cavalcanti, and Dante
+Alighieri had so reshaped the rude vulgar tongue that it became worthy
+of its Latin succession. The refinements of chivalric love came to
+Florence in melodious verse, and what the poets called the “sweet new
+style,” _il dolce stil nuovo_, in diction presaged a similar sweet new
+style of painting. Alongside of the poets, Brunetto Latini in the
+_Tesoro_ shows glimmerings of scientific interest, and Giovanni Villani
+lends substance and dignity to the work of the chronicler. Already the
+sculptors Nicola and Giovanni of neighboring Pisa had grasped the
+beauties respectively of classic sculpture and the noble intensity of
+that of the Gothic North. All this immensely increased that sum of fine
+thinking, feeling, and seeing which underlies all great art.
+
+To express these new emotions the old painting was inadequate. Italy
+through the so-called Dark Ages produced art abundantly. Wherever power
+and order asserted themselves amid the welter of war and oppression,
+stately buildings rose and these were decorated. Thus at Rome, where the
+popes gradually added temporal to spiritual power, splendid basilicas
+grew over the tombs of the martyrs. At Ravenna, through the 6th and 7th
+centuries the seat of the Byzantine and Gothic sovereignties,
+magnificent churches and baptistries were covered with pictorial
+mosaics. In Sicily, at Messina, Cefalù and Palermo, the sway of the
+Norman kings in the eleventh and twelfth centuries expressed itself in
+churches and civic buildings of the utmost splendor, which were adorned
+with mosaics by Greek masters. When the fugitives from the valleys of
+the Po, Adige, and Piave, and Brenta fled from Attila to the Venetian
+fens, there again was a beginning of great building. Wherever there was
+a powerful primate as at Milan, Como, Parma, Pisa, or a wide ruling
+abbot as at Subiaco, Monte Cassino, Capua, you will find art.
+
+But hardly, except perhaps in architecture, Italian art. We have
+sporadic provincial expressions dominated from afar by the prestige of
+the Eastern Roman Empire. At Constantinople there was a permanent court,
+a ceremonious civilization, an artistic blending of the traditions of
+old Greece and of the mysterious Levant. The merchants of the world
+sought from Byzantium, jewelry, enamels, embroideries, brocades, carved
+ivories, and pictured manuscripts. She was to the early Middle Ages what
+Paris is to ours—the æsthetic fashion maker of the world,—and her
+skilled artists went far afield as so many missionaries of the Byzantine
+style. We find them making the mosaics of Ravenna in the 6th and 7th
+centuries, of St. Mark’s at Venice from the 9th century, of many Roman
+churches from an even earlier date, of Palermo in the 12th, and of the
+Baptistry at Florence in the 13th. This Byzantine manner, as practiced
+by the travelling Greek artists and by their innumerable Italian
+imitators, is the real starting point and jump-off place for Italian
+painting. Hence in first studying the Byzantine style we do but imitate
+the Italian painters who immediately preceded Giotto.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 1. Byzantine Narrative Style about 1300. Detail from Mosaic Book
+    Covers in the Opera del Duomo.
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 2. Mosaic in the Cathedral, Pisa. St. John, left, is by Cimabue,
+    1302; the Christ is in good Byzantine tradition; the Virgin, right,
+    is some twenty years later.
+]
+
+Byzantine pictures have come down to us on the largest and on the
+smallest scale—in the great mosaics and wall paintings, and as well on
+small panels and in the illustrated books used in the ritual of the
+church. Both are important. The mural decorations are what the early
+Italian painter had constantly before his eye; the miniatured psalters,
+Gospels, lectionaries, chorals and prayer books, afforded the patterns
+from which he drew with little alteration the standard compositions of
+the Annunciation to Mary, the Nativity of Christ, His Adoration by the
+Shepherds and Kings, His Baptism, the Raising of Lazarus, the Last
+Supper, Crucifixion, Descent into Hell, Resurrection, and Ascension. But
+Byzantine design is most imposing in its monumental phase. The most
+careless traveller still feels awe before those solemn figures of Christ
+supreme ruler (_Pantokrator_) and his Mother queen of heaven which are
+seen throned against a background of azure or gold and attended by
+solemn figures of apostles and martyrs, Figure 2. The forms are
+flat,—silhouettes enriched by interior tracery, the arrangement in the
+space formal, symmetrical, highly decorative. The smaller narrative
+compositions,[2] Figure 1, are clearly conceived but have small
+emotional appeal. For this reason the Italians of the Golden Age spoke
+of the Byzantine style as rude. This is an error. Rude in the hands of
+half-trained local imitators, the style as formulated in the 9th century
+at Constantinople was highly sophisticated and decoratively of great
+refinement. It was based on an admirable system of color spotting and a
+fine understanding of silhouette. The contours were cast in easy
+conventional curves. These were enriched within by hatchings and
+splintery angles of gold which contrasted effectively with the fluent
+outlines. Everything was done by precept and copybook. In four centuries
+before the year 1300, the style showed little change, indeed is still
+alive in the mountains of Macedonia and, until the Revolution, in
+Russia. The Byzantine artist seldom looked at a fellow mortal with
+artistic intent. He looked at some earlier picture or considered his own
+color preferences. Conventional and anæmic as the narrative style was,
+it did all that was required of it. Nothing better serves the purpose of
+an authoritative Church than the awe-inspiring Christs of the Lombard
+and Sicilian and Roman apses, and so long as the Church felt no duty
+beyond that of plain statement of her claims, the unfelt narratives from
+the Scriptures served every religious need.
+
+It was different when under the leading of St. Dominic and St.
+Francis,[3] the Church eagerly wished to persuade men. Men may well have
+been frightened or even instructed by a Byzantine picture; nobody was
+ever persuaded by one. It took a century to work away from the Byzantine
+style, so deeply was it rooted. In fact, from the year 1226, that of St.
+Francis’s death, to about the end of the century, such artists as Guido
+of Siena, Coppo di Marcovaldo, Giunta of Pisa, Jacopo Torriti, Giovanni
+Cosma, Duccio, and Cimabue chiefly restudied the old Byzantine manner.
+They wished to learn how to build creditably before they began to tear
+down. Such reverent experiment extending over two generations only
+proved that the breach with Byzantine formalism was inevitable.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 3. Tuscan Master about 1285.—_Otto Kahn, N.Y._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 4. Cimabue. Madonna in Majesty.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+With the deepening and broadening of personal, civic, and religious
+emotions, the painter found new exactions laid upon him which the
+bloodless art of Byzantium could not satisfy. New life called for new
+forms to express it. We find in sculpture from about the year 1260, that
+of Giovanni Pisano’s first pulpit—wholly classical in its dignity—a
+kindred endeavor in advance of the art of painting. The renewal took
+three forms: the more conservative spirits accepted the Byzantine
+formulas but endeavored to refine on them in a realistic sense, to add
+grace to austerity. Such moderate development of the old style fixed the
+character of the school of Siena and was magnificently initiated by its
+greatest artist, Duccio, active about 1300. A very beautiful Madonna of
+this general tendency is in the collection of Mr. Otto Kahn at New York,
+Figure 3. It has been quite variously attributed.[4] It seems to me,
+however, a pure Tuscan work by Coppo or a painter akin to him. For the
+greater spirits such a reform was inadequate. Refine the Byzantine
+formulas to the utmost—there was no gain, rather loss in strength.
+Accordingly a vehement spirit like Cimabue,[1–5] acknowledgedly father
+of the Florentine school, accepts the Byzantine tradition loyally, but
+seeks to make its rigid mannerisms express the new religious passions.
+At times he is successful at this unlikely task of putting new wine into
+old bottles. His great enthroned Madonna at Florence, Figure 4, with
+solemn angels in attendance and grim patriarchs below her throne, may
+have been painted as early as 1285. It is faithful to the old monumental
+tradition—akin to the Christs and Marys of the mosaics—in its impressive
+richness is one of the most majestic things the century produced. It
+reveals the docility of its creator but only partially his power. We
+have hardly his hand but surely an echo of his influence in the tragic
+crucifix in the museum of Santa Croce. It is the moment of agony, and
+the powerful body writhes against the nails, while the head sinks in
+death. It may represent hundreds of similar crosses that stood high in
+air on the rood beam before the chancel, in sight both of the preacher
+and his public.
+
+Somewhere about 1294, Cimabue was called to Assisi to decorate the
+church in which St. Francis was buried. His part was the choir and
+transepts of the upper church. In the cross vault he painted the four
+evangelists, on the walls he spread the stories of St. Peter and St.
+Paul, the legends of the Virgin scenes from the Apocalypse, the gigantic
+forms of the archangels and a Calvary, Figure 5, that is one of the most
+moving expressions of Christian art. Chipped and blackened, their lights
+become dark through chemical change, these wall paintings retain an
+immense power and veracity. The Byzantine forms gain a paradoxical
+solidity, like that of bronze. The convulsion of the figure of Christ is
+given back in the wild gestures of the mourning women and the terrified
+Jews. It is the moment of the earthquake and the opening of tombs; a
+cosmic terror and despair pervade the place. The work is hampered and
+rude but completely expressive. The sensitive Japanese critic and man of
+the world, Okakura Kakuzo, used to regard these sooty frescoes in the
+transepts of the Franciscan basilica as the high point of all European
+art, which should at least induce the tourist and the student to give a
+second look at these battered and fading masterpieces. Recently an
+inscribed date, 1296, has been discovered on the choir wall which
+settles a long vexed question of chronology. The upper part of the work
+in the transepts and choir must have been going on for some years
+earlier, and the entire decoration of the Upper Church should roughly be
+comprised between 1294 and 1300. Cimabue died about 1302 while working
+on the apsidal mosaic at Pisa, where the St. John is by his hand, Figure
+2. He had brought life and passion into Italian painting, as his younger
+contemporary Giovanni Pisano had into Italian sculpture. Cimabue’s
+defect—that of a noble spirit—was the faith that the old pictorial form
+could contain the new surging emotions.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 5. Cimabue. Calvary. Fresco.—_Upper Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 6. Pietro Cavallini. Dormition of the Virgin. Mosaic.—_S. M. in
+    Trastevere, Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 7. Pietro Cavallini. Apostles, fresco, from Last Judgment.—_Santa
+    Cecelia in Trastevere._
+]
+
+Colder spirits, as is often the case, more readily found the right way.
+And the discovery was made at Rome where the sculptured columns, arches,
+and sarcophagi, the pagan wall paintings and the earliest Christian
+mosaics combined to continue the lesson of classic humanism. A
+remarkable family of decorators, the Cosmati; with such contemporaries
+as Jacopo Torriti and Filippo Rusuti begin very cautiously to free
+themselves from Byzantine trammels. But it was a painter, Pietro
+Cavallini,[5] who more fully grasped that glory that had been Rome. In
+1291 he designed for the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere a Madonna
+and four stories of the Christ Child in mosaic. Here we glimpse a new
+pictorial form, Figure 6. Those Byzantine hooks and hatchings which were
+quite false to form give way to a reasonable structure in light and
+dark, the hair no longer wild and ropy, is disposed in sculpturesque
+locks, the draperies are no longer a cobweb pattern, but cast in broad
+and classic folds. All these improvements may be noted in more complete
+form in the frescoed Last Judgment which has recently been uncovered in
+the church of Santa Cecilia, Figure 7. Here the heads of Christ and the
+Apostles are well built in carefully graduated light and shade, while
+the draperies suggest Hellenistic statuary. But the renovation is on the
+whole cold and academic. Cavallini has not much more to say than the
+Byzantines, but that little he says with far greater gravity and
+truthfulness. He was a lucid and industrious but not a fine or strong
+spirit. His work later at Naples—in the Church of the Donna Regina,
+about 1310—shows that when he will express strong emotions he becomes
+merely hectic. Yet he recovered for Italian painting more than a hint of
+the choice naturalism of old Rome, and that is his sufficient glory.
+There is greater power and knowledge than his in the work of such
+contemporaries as the unknown painters of the frescoed heads of prophets
+in Santa Maria Maggiore at Rome and of the stories of Isaac in the Upper
+Church at Assisi.[6] These show a resolute and intelligent effort to
+draw in masses of light and shade, and as well an ambition to recover
+the gravity of the early Christian mosaics. It is no wonder that some
+critics ascribe such dramatic and superbly constructed frescoes as The
+Betrayal of Esau to young Giotto, Figure 8, but the art is too mature
+for any young artist. We have rather to do with a great personality of
+Roman training who broke the way for Giotto. Cavalcaselle suggests, I
+think rightly, that the Florentine, Gaddo Gaddi, may have done some of
+this work. But we are safe only in calling this great painter “The Isaac
+Master.”
+
+To recapitulate, there were three ways, all imperfect, open to a young
+and progressive painter who like Giotto di Bondone was forming a style
+about the year 1300. He might with the Sienese evade the issue of
+passion and naturalism, choosing for gracefulness, he might try over
+again the great adventure of his master Cimabue, endeavoring to bring
+emotion into the old unfit forms, or he might, like Pietro Cavallini,
+let emotion take care of itself and work academically towards better
+structure, drapery, light, and shade. His choice was absolutely
+momentous for modern painting, and I want you to feel that the issue was
+quite consciously and vividly before him, for he had spent much of his
+youth as a humble assistant in the basilica at Assisi, where frescoes in
+the vehement Tuscan manner of Cimabue and in the dignified Roman style
+of the Isaac Master were being painted side by side. His decision was to
+combine the merits of the two manners—to seek, like his master,
+sincerity and depth of emotion, but to embody it in the new and nobler
+forms of the Roman school. This decision virtually fixed the character
+of Christian art in Italy—it was to be warm and humanistic, but it was
+to revive much of that abstract nobility which old Rome had inherited
+from Greece. Thus Italian painting at the outset took a classic stamp
+which when true to itself it has never lost. In fundamental ideas of
+beauty, there is no real difference between Giotto, Masaccio, Leonardo
+da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, Michelangelo.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 8. “The Isaac Master.” Esau before Isaac. Fresco.—_Upper Church,
+    Assisi._
+]
+
+Giotto di Bondone,[7] according to the best information we have on a
+disputed point, was born in 1266, at the village of Colle, in the lovely
+valley of the Mugello. His people were prosperous and his way smooth. I
+see no reason for doubting the charming legend told by Ghiberti that
+Cimabue found the lad Giotto by the roadside diligently scratching the
+outlines of a sheep on a slate, and that that was the beginning of their
+association. In any case, we may surmise that he was early with Cimabue
+as apprentice and eventually went with the Master to Assisi to grind
+colors, clean brushes, and paint under direction. To be at that moment
+in the Franciscan Basilica was to be at the greatest creative center of
+the world. It seems to me likely that Giotto may have had a considerable
+part in the actual painting of the Old and New Testament stories in the
+nave, and I believe we may find his earliest designs in certain frescoes
+of the upper rows. The Lamenting over Christ’s Body, for example,
+singularly combines the energy of Cimabue with the dignity of Cavallini,
+and there are significant echoes of the composition in Giotto’s later
+version of the same theme at Padua. Tradition also ascribes to Giotto,
+maybe correctly, the Resurrection and Pentecost on the entrance wall.[8]
+
+After 1296, according to Vasari’s entirely credible account, young
+Giotto took over the direction of the work for the newly elected
+Franciscan General, Giovanni dal Muro. What share he had in the
+vivacious and justly loved stories of St. Francis,[9] in the lower range
+of the nave, is greatly disputed. Of the twenty-eight frescoes involved,
+it seems clear to me that the first and the last three are by an artist
+more nearly in the Sienese tradition, that Nos. II to XVIII inclusive
+are designed by Giotto in the style of the Old Testament stories above
+and painted by him with a certain amount of assistance, and that the
+rest are largely inspired by Giotto but executed in his absence and
+without his final control. What is more important is the variety and
+vivacity of these narratives. Young Giotto is free to improvise, as he
+was not in the standard Bible subjects, and the mood shifts readily. We
+have charity, with St. Francis giving his cloak to a beggar, in an
+idyllic landscape; family strife in St. Francis renouncing his father,
+Figure 9; sorcery in the exorcism of the devils from Arezzo; an odd
+mixture of ogreishness and witchcraft, in St. Francis’s Fire Ordeal
+before the Soldan, Figure 11; a great pious intentness, in the
+choristers at the Cradle Rite; intense physical appetite, in the Miracle
+of the Spring; an entrancing blend of reverence and humor, in the Sermon
+to the Birds, Figure 10; stark tragedy in the Death of the Knight of
+Celano.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 10. The Sermon to the Birds.—_Upper Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 9.—St. Francis renounces His Father.—_Upper Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 11. St. Francis before the Soldan.—_Upper Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 12. Early Sketch Copy after Giotto’s Mosaic of the Navicella.
+    Compare Fig. 31.—_Metropolitan Museum, New York._
+]
+
+Giotto is still chiefly a sprightly illustrator. He is as yet
+insensitive to composition. He often perfunctorily splits his groups,
+giving each a landscape—or architectural back-screen quite in the
+Byzantine manner. His story-telling is brusque and without rhythm. His
+sense of form is already strong and growing, but there is little of the
+ease and style of the Isaac frescoes just above. In vitality the stories
+of St. Francis mark a great advance, but they lack the gravity and
+exquisiteness of balance proper to the best mural decoration.
+
+It was at Rome that young Giotto was to broaden and refine his art. He
+was called thither before the year 1300 to design the great mosaic of
+Christ walking on the Sea of Galilee beside the tempest-tossed boat of
+the Apostles. It stood over the inside cloister-portal of old St.
+Peter’s, and has been many times moved in the rebuilding of the church,
+and with each move restored, so that what we now see in the porch is
+entirely remade. From certain fragments of the old mosaic, and old
+sketch copies, Figure 12, we may judge that the Navicella, as the
+Italians loved to call it, was an elaborate composition of great
+dramatic power, the logical consummation of the experiments at Assisi.
+Our best version of the Navicella is Andrea Bonaiuti’s adaptation,
+Figure 31, for the vault of the Spanish Chapel, 1365.
+
+But Giotto was soon to renounce the facile method of diffuse and genial
+narrative in favor of a concise and massive style, akin to sculptured
+relief, and deeply influenced by the antique. The arches and the columns
+of Imperial Rome are teaching their silent lesson, the simple and noble
+forms of Cavallini and his nameless rivals show how painting may vie
+with sculpture in sense of mass and reality. With the problem of the
+representation of mass on a flat surface, Giotto wrestled eagerly and
+triumphantly. With a genius that few painters have equalled, he grasped
+the truth that the figure painter’s problem of representing space is
+chiefly that of emphatically suggesting mass. If you convince the eye of
+the tangibility of your objects, the mind will supply elbow room and air
+to breathe. It isn’t necessary to simulate a box, as the Sienese
+painters often did. The painter who can give a convincing sense of mass
+may handle accessories and perspective with the utmost freedom,
+according to the inner law of his design. The painter who thinks first
+of his space is in every way more bound to the smaller probabilities.
+Much thinking of this sort must have been done by Giotto before he
+worked out his new style at Padua.
+
+After his return from Rome, Giotto sojourned for a time in Florence, and
+in 1304 or thereabouts painted the gigantic Madonna formerly in the
+Trinità, Figure 13. It is impressive in mass, admirable in the intent
+expression of the attendant angels, rich in color, but the great figure
+is unhappily crowded by the canopy. Giotto is still a bit uncertain as
+to the rendering of space, and makes a good if unpleasing effort to
+suggest depth despite the limitations of a gold background. With all its
+nobility and tenderness, this is by no means so good a decoration as the
+great Madonna by Cimabue, Figure 4, which hangs nearby in the Uffizi.
+
+With the problems of space and mass, Giotto was soon to cope
+triumphantly. A wealthy citizen of Padua, Enrico Scrovegni, was planning
+a new chapel to the Virgin Annunciate. Doubtless he wished the repose of
+his father’s soul, for his father had been a notorious usurer. Dante
+incontinently puts him in hell with other profiteers. Enrico Scrovegni
+built his chapel near the ruins of a Roman arena and dedicated it March
+25, 1305. The Arena Chapel was a brick box, barrel vaulted within—a
+magnificent space for a fresco painter. Giotto spread upon it the
+noblest cycle of pictures known to Christian art. Over the chancel arch
+he painted the Eternal, surrounded by swaying angels, and listening to
+the counter-pleas of Justice and Mercy concerning doomed mankind, with
+the Archangel Gabriel serenely awaiting the message that should bring
+Christ to Mary’s womb and salvation to earth. This is the Prologue.
+Opposite on the entrance wall is the Epilogue—a last judgment, with
+Christ enthroned as Supreme Judge amid the Apostles, and the just being
+parted from the wicked. Amid the just you may see Enrico Scrovegni
+presenting the chapel to three angels.
+
+The side walls are ruled off into three rows of pictures, with ornate
+border bands and a basement of sculpturesque figures symbolizing the
+seven virtues and vices. The story reads down from above. Below the
+azure vault and still a little in the curve are the stories of the
+Childhood of the Virgin—nothing in the chapel more simple and stately
+than these.[10] The middle course is devoted to the early deeds of
+Christ, from his birth to the expulsion of the money lenders from the
+temple. The lower row depicts His Passion ending with the Miracle of
+Pentecost. Much later a disciple of Giotto completed the story with the
+last days of the Virgin, in the Choir. Thus the narrative in its
+broadest sense is a life of the Virgin Mary, including that of her
+Divine Son, and both lives are brought into an eternal scheme of things
+by the prologue, which shows a relenting God, and the Epilogue which
+shows a now relentless Christ awarding bliss and woe to the race for all
+eternity.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 13. Giotto. Madonna Enthroned.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+The first impression of a visitor to the chapel will be a feeling of awe
+qualified by joy in the loveliest of colors. The whites of the classical
+draperies dominate. They are shot with rose, or pale blue, or grey
+green. Certain old enamels have the same quality of making the most
+splendid crimsons, blues, and greens seem merely foils to foreground
+masses of white which seem to include by implication all the positive
+colors. It is this bright and original color scheme balancing crimsons
+and azures with violets and greens which makes a thing of beauty out of
+what would otherwise be a stilted checkerboard arrangement.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 13_a_. St. Joachim and St. Anna at the Beautiful Giotto
+    Gate.—_Arena, Padua._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 14. Giotto. The Flight into Egypt.—_Arena, Padua._
+]
+
+Next the eye will realize splendid people gravely occupied with solemn
+acts. There is the strangest blend of passion and decorum. See the eager
+old man who clutches his wife before a massive city gate while she
+caresses him tenderly, Figure 13_a_, note the firm gentleness of the
+bearded priest who handles a screaming baby before the altar, mark the
+sense of strain and hurry where a mother and child mounted on an ass,
+Figure 14, are pushed and dragged along by an old man and attendants. Or
+again, what sinister power in the scene where three Jewish magistrates
+press money upon a haggard, bearded, nervous man. You do not need the
+bat-like demon prompting him to know that it is the arch-traitor Judas,
+Figure 15. Then there is a strange, serene, processional composition,
+with the Virgin moving homeward among her friends to a solemn music,
+Figure 16. It has a rhythm like the frieze of the Parthenon. Perhaps
+your eye will fix longest on the scene where about the pale body of the
+dead Christ women wail with outstretched hands, or tend the broken body,
+while bearded men, accustomed to the hardness of life, stand in mute
+sympathy with folded hands, Figure 17. It is what the Gospel ought to
+look like. How Giotto shows every feeling, pushing its expression just
+to the verge, and there stopping, so that idyl and tragedy, devotion and
+wrath, treachery and fealty, fear and courage, each keeps its proper and
+distinguishing aspect, while all are invested in a common dignity and
+nobility. You will perhaps never have seen an art at once so varied and
+moving, and nevertheless so monumental, and you may well be curious as
+to the method.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 15. Giotto. Judas betraying Christ.—_Arena, Padua._
+]
+
+You will see readily that these compositions are conceived sculpturally.
+Every one with the slightest change could be cut in marble. Indeed the
+seven Virtues, Figure 18, and seven Vices impersonated in monochrome on
+the dado of the chapel are direct imitations of sculpture. The figures
+throughout the life of Christ and the Virgin are of even size, and
+usually all on one plane. The landscapes and architectural features are
+arranged simply as frames or backgrounds for the figure groups. The
+figures are, whenever the subject permits, clad in drapery of a classic
+cast. Expression is conveyed not much by the faces, which have a uniform
+Gothic intentness, but by the action of the entire figure and especially
+of the hands. The forms are rather squat and massive, yet have a homely
+gracefulness. There is nothing like perspective, and small regard for
+distance, yet the figures have convincing bulk and move gravely in
+adequate space. All this is due to the most consummate draughtsmanship.
+Giotto simplifies his seeing; what he cares for is the thrust of the
+shoulder, or the poise of hip, the swing of the back from the pelvis,
+the projection of the chest, the balance of the head on the neck and its
+attachment to the shoulders. All these essential facts of mass he
+represents by the simplest lines of direction, by broad masses of light
+and shade, often merely by the tugging lines in drapery that tell of the
+form beneath. The cave men would have understood Giotto, and so would
+the post-impressionists of today. Conciseness, economy, force,
+mass—these are the technical qualities of the work, as human insight and
+tenderness are its grace. As the great analytical critic Bernard
+Berenson has well remarked, this painting makes the strongest possible
+appeal to our tactile sense, stirring powerfully all our memories of
+touch, and presenting the painted indications as so many swiftly grasped
+clues to reality. We have to do with a magnificently conceived
+shorthand. No artist before or since has made a greater expenditure of
+mind or achieved a more notable inventiveness than Giotto in the Arena
+Chapel.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 16. Giotto. The Virgin returning from her wedding.—_Arena,
+    Padua._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 17. Giotto. Lamentation over Christ.—_Arena, Padua._
+]
+
+It was dedicated March 25, 1305, Giotto being nearly forty years old,
+and it was probably not completely painted on the day of dedication,
+since many draperies were borrowed from St. Mark’s, Venice, to cover,
+presumably, the still unpictured parts of the walls. Giotto lived some
+four years in Padua, brought his family there, received the exiled poet
+Dante and with him joked not too decorously about his own ugliness and
+that of his children. It seems likely enough, though not certain, that
+he followed the banished Pope to Avignon about 1309, and spent some
+years in Southern France. What is certain is that he was again in
+Florence by 1312, and that, having found his own solution of the problem
+of mass in the Arena Chapel, he thereafter rested comfortably on his
+discovery, never was quite as strenuous again, and spent his later years
+at a new problem—that of decorative symmetry.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 18. Giotto. Hope.—_Arena, Padua._
+]
+
+The first experiment towards a sweeter and more complex style was made
+in the cross vaults of the Lower Church of Assisi, immediately above the
+tomb of St. Francis. The subjects were the three virtues of the
+Franciscan vow—Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience—with a St. Francis in a
+glory of angels. In these great triangular compositions, allegory and
+symbolism run riot, and we do well to recall Hazlitt’s shrewd remark on
+Spenser’s “Faery Queene”—“the allegory will not bite.” Indeed one might
+forget it for the radiance of the azures, moss-greens, rose pinks, and
+deeper violets, for the delightful contrast of the freely composed
+groups with the intricate geometrical formality of the rich borders. Yet
+to ignore the allegory completely would be to forget the master’s
+intention. We may savor it best in the great composition: St. Francis
+Marries his Lady Poverty, Figure 18_a_. The bridal group stands on a
+central crag, Christ serving as priest, St. Francis slipping a ring on
+the gaunt hand of a haggard, yet strangely fascinating bride clothed in
+a single ragged garment. Her bare feet show through a crisply drawn and
+blossomless rose tree. Two urchins at the foot of the little cliff stand
+ready to stone so unseemly a bride. From the central group to right and
+left, earnest groups of angels spread in a descending curve. In the
+lower angle, left, a young man gives his rich cloak to an old beggar,
+while an angel points to the bridal: Poverty is accepted. At the lower
+right corner, another angel attempts to detain a young man who passes
+with a gesture of contempt in the company of two portly priests: Poverty
+is rejected by such. From the apex of the great triangle, the hands of
+God descend to welcome two angels, one of which offers the cloak given
+to the beggar, and the other a model of the church which is the splendid
+covering for the body of the Saint. The fantastic beauty of this and its
+companion pieces can only be appreciated on the spot. No frescoes of
+Italy surpass these for loveliness of color and perfection of condition.
+It is the most beautiful pictured Gothic ceiling in the world, perhaps
+the most fantastically beautiful of all figured ceilings whatever.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 18_a_. Giotto. St. Francis’ Mystic Marriage with Poverty.—_Lower
+    Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+Because the figures are a little slight and the expression a bit
+sentimentalized, and the proportions rather arbitrarily handled to meet
+the exigencies of the curved spaces, many good critics, including
+Venturi and Berenson, deny these compositions to Giotto. One of them,
+the St. Francis in Glory, is clearly of inferior design and quality. For
+the others, it seems to me that the designs can only be by Giotto, while
+the execution is mostly by a charming assistant whose work in this
+ceiling and elsewhere in this church makes us wish we knew his name. No
+middle-aged painter of established repute was likely to undertake
+personally the dirty and fatiguing work of painting a ceiling in fresco.
+If we are right in supposing that Giotto may have designed this ceiling,
+shortly after his return from Avignon, say, after 1312, he would have
+been towards fifty years old, and provided with a shop-staff of
+well-trained assistants. From this time on, indeed, we may assume that
+he rather directed the work of others than painted himself. Such a view
+will permit us to accept as school works many fine pictures the design
+of which a too strict criticism has denied to Giotto. For example, the
+admirable Coronation of the Virgin, in Santa Croce, Florence, seems to
+me completely designed by Giotto, and the logical next step after the
+Franciscan allegories, though there can be little actual painting by the
+master on the panel, and his personal contribution may have been limited
+to a small working drawing. Indeed the only one of the later panels
+which seems to show throughout his actual handiwork is the lovely
+Dormition of the Virgin at Berlin, Frontispiece, which was painted for
+the Church of Ognissanti.
+
+At about this period I think we may set the several crucifixes in
+Florentine churches, without inquiring too narrowly whether they are by
+the master or by scholars. Giotto has developed a singularly noble type.
+The Christ is no longer contorted in agony as in the crucifixes by
+Cimabue. He is dead, with his head quietly sunk on the powerful breast,
+and the body relaxed. The conception is humanistic. One feels chiefly
+the pity of stretching that glorious thing that is a man’s body on a
+cross. Probably the earliest of these crucifixes is that at Santa Maria
+Novella, while the finest is at San Felice. About 1320 we may set the
+dismembered _ancona_, painted for Cardinal Gaetano Stefaneschi, which
+originally stood on the high altar of St. Peter’s, Rome. The tarnished
+fragments which you may still see in the sacristy, are more splendid in
+color than any other tempera painting whatsoever. Probably only the
+central panels, Christ and St. Peter enthroned, are from Giotto’s hand,
+the side panels representing the martyrdom of Peter and Paul may well be
+both designed and executed by the accomplished assistant who carried out
+the allegories at Assisi.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 19. Giotto. Naming of St. John the Baptist.—_Peruzzi Chapel,
+    Santa Croce._
+]
+
+So far we have seen Giotto a wanderer. Assisi, Rome, Padua, Rimini,
+delighted to do him honor, but apparently Florence had claimed few works
+from his hand. We have record of frescoes in the Badia which may have
+been early works. It was the decoration of Arnolfo’s great Franciscan
+church of Santa Croce that finally recalled Giotto and evoked his most
+accomplished work. He completed in the transepts of Santa Croce four
+chapels and as many altar-pieces. The frescoes were white-washed in the
+16th century, and the panels broken up and lost. But in the last century
+the white-wash was scraped off from two of the chapels, and there we may
+see, so far as defacement and repainting permit, the masterpieces of the
+early Florentine school. We may reasonably guess the date of this work
+to be somewhere about 1320, Giotto being nearly sixty.
+
+In the chapel maintained by that noble family, the Peruzzi, Giotto
+spread on the side walls three stories from the life of St. John the
+Baptist, and as many more from that of St. John the Evangelist. The
+figures are superb, magisterial in pose; the draperies grand and ample
+after the classical fashion. Upon bulk and relief there is less
+insistence than at Padua. Giotto has passed the experimental stage as
+regards form, is less strenuous and more at his ease. Nothing is more
+stately in the chapel than the presentation of the infant Baptist to his
+father, who is temporarily stricken with dumbness, Figure 19. Simeon
+gravely writes the name John; Elizabeth with her adoring group of
+attendants carefully offers the vivacious child to his father’s gaze.
+The gestures are slow, definite, determined. The group beautifully fills
+the square space without crowding it. The composition, unlike the widely
+spaced Paduan designs, is drawn together into a mass.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 20. Giotto. Resuscitation of Drusiana by St. John.—_Peruzzi
+    Chapel, Santa Croce._
+]
+
+Upon the Feast of Herod with Salome modestly dancing John Ruskin[11] has
+expended just eulogies in the petulant yet important little book
+“Mornings in Florence.” What is notable in the scene is its general
+decorum and the pathetic indecision of the weak King.
+
+But the most accomplished design as such is the miracle of the
+Resuscitation of Drusiana by St. John the Evangelist, Figure 20. Even
+the inscenation before a fine Romanesque city is adequately, if very
+simply, realized. The gesture of the apostle is of majestic power, the
+contrast of the massive, upright, columnar forms of the elders, with the
+sharply bent forms of Drusiana, her mourners and bier bearers, is
+admirably invented, and the drastic portraiture of a cripple at the left
+adds a tang of reality while in no wise detracting from the dignity of
+the scene. We have a work in the grand style, massively conceived,
+warmly felt, wrought into an elaborate and satisfying symmetry. The
+Ascension of St. John has an even graver and more ample rhythm. The
+Golden Age of Raphael and Titian will have little to add to this except
+the minor graces.
+
+In the adjoining chapel of the Bardi family, Giotto, a little later, I
+believe, painted six stories of St. Francis, and four figures of the
+great Franciscan saints, St. Louis of France, St. Louis of Toulouse, St.
+Clare, and St. Elizabeth of Hungary. Over the entrance arch he set an
+animated picture of St. Francis receiving the stigmata, the wounds of
+the Saviour. Nearly thirty years earlier he had done this subject for
+the Church at Assisi, and in an altar-piece which has passed from Pisa
+to the Louvre. By comparing the rigid, angular figures of the earlier
+composition and their ill-adjusted accessories, with this easy and
+beautifully balanced arrangement, you may see how far Giotto had gone in
+the direction of grace, and you will not fail also to note how much more
+tragic the earlier and less calculated work is.
+
+For the first time, in the Bardi chapel, Giotto conceives the decoration
+of the side walls as a whole. From the pointed lunettes above, through
+the three compositions on each wall, there is an architectural axis,
+sometimes arbitrarily imposed, about which the figures are symmetrically
+distributed. Often the scene is a screen with projecting wings as in the
+St. Francis before the Sultan of Morocco, or a similar fore-court, as in
+the Mourning for St. Francis. It will be well to compare the story of
+St. Francis renouncing his father, Figure 21, with the same subject at
+Assisi. You will recall that St. Francis, when rebuked by his father for
+a rash and impulsive act of charity, stripped off his clothes, then
+threw them at his father’s feet, and took refuge under the robe of the
+Bishop of Assisi. In the earlier version the architectural background
+splits the composition in two, adding to its intensity perhaps, but
+displeasing to the eye. Here in the late version a fine building seen in
+perspective both unifies the two groups and serves as apex for the
+decorative axis of the entire side wall.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 21. Giotto. St. Francis renounces his Father. Compare FIG.
+    9.—_Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce._
+]
+
+More remarkable still is the contrast between St. Francis Braving the
+Fire Ordeal before the Soldan, Figure 22, as depicted at Assisi and
+Florence. We have to do not merely with an immense advance in decorative
+composition, the accessories at Assisi being trivial and fantastic; not
+merely with progress towards a gracious symmetry and more massive and
+impressive form, but also with a complete change of moral point of view.
+At Assisi the Soldan is an ogre exacting a cruel test. The Moslem
+priests are a cowardly pack of magicians ignobly slinking away, St.
+Francis a grim fanatic. At Florence the Soldan is a noble and humane
+gentleman, amazed at an unreasonable ordeal forced upon his wise men.
+The Moslem doctors are splendid scholars grudgingly shrinking from an
+unfair test, St. Francis an alert little enthusiast half gloating over
+the confusion he has thrown into the enemy camp. With a by no means
+orthodox feeling, old Giotto, humanistic Giotto, almost seems to take,
+or at least to see, the pagans’ side of it. He who had written a manly
+poem against the excesses and hypocrisies of the Franciscan ideal of
+poverty, is now capable of criticizing the more extravagant propagandism
+of the saint himself.
+
+It is a criticism that admits all tenderness and sympathy, as may be
+seen in the famous fresco representing the Mourning over the body of St.
+Francis while his soul is translated to heaven, Figure 23. Again John
+Ruskin is your best interpreter to this picture, which after all only
+needs to be seen. It combines all the qualities for which Giotto had
+striven—warmth, vivacity, ingenuity, unexpectedness in the narrative
+details; massiveness and dignity of the individual forms; and a
+decorative symmetry at once monumental, formal, and delightfully varied.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 22. Giotto. St. Francis before the Soldan. Compare Fig.
+    11.—_Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 23. Giotto. Death of St. Francis.—_Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce._
+]
+
+With this noble and deeply felt composition we virtually take leave of
+Giotto. For though he lived for many years yet, the works of his old age
+have largely perished. In the chapel at Assisi dedicated to St. Mary
+Magdalen are fine frescoes in which he surely had a leading part. From
+1330 to 1333 he worked at Naples for King Robert of Anjou. Nothing
+remains from this visit except certain shrewd jests which the painter
+exchanged with the King. In 1334 Florence recalled him, and made him
+_capomaestro_ of the Cathedral. Giotto designed the flower-like tower
+which rises lightly beside the temple of Our Lady of the Flower,
+invented and perhaps cut in marble certain reliefs on the base
+representing the crafts of men, but did not live to see the loveliest of
+bell towers finished. The task was completed by his pupil and artistic
+executor, Taddeo Gaddi. In the last years Giotto conceived vast
+compositions of a religious and political sort for the public buildings
+of the Commune. There were allegories of a strong and weak state, in the
+Bargello, the prison-fortress of the Captain of the People. These great
+symbolical designs are a kind of missing link between Giotto and the
+panoramic painters who followed him. We may find an echo of this lost
+work in the Civic Allegories in the Palazzo Pubblico of Siena. These
+were doing at the moment of Giotto’s death by a Sienese painter,
+Ambrogio Lorenzetti, who had studied the great Florentine master
+devoutly. Nothing of Giotto’s latest phase is left save a few figures in
+the battered frescoes in the Bargello which contain the idealized
+portrait of youthful Dante, Figure 24, and the gracious Dormition of the
+Virgin at Berlin, Frontispiece.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 24. Giotto. Dante, tracing from the ruined fresco in the
+    Bargello.
+]
+
+Just before Giotto died, the tyrant of Milan borrowed him from Florence.
+Giotto soon returned, to die early in the year 1337, being seventy years
+old. Almost single-handed he had made Italian painting. He had lent life
+and warmth to the cold and academic reform of the Roman painters. He had
+expressed a maximum of feeling, without sacrifice of dignity. He had
+worked out beautiful and impressive forms of composition wherein
+symmetry and contrast met harmoniously. He had mastered the expression
+of mass on a plane surface with a certainty and energy no artist before
+had even imagined, and that few since have equalled. He had forecast and
+led the way in every manner of realistic figure painting.
+
+Florence, when true to herself, could only repeat Giotto in one phase or
+another of his activity. In her casual and sprightly mood, she carries
+on the method of Giotto’s stories of St. Francis at Assisi, in mystical
+reflection and symbolism she must build on the allegories over St.
+Francis’ tomb and on the lost political frescoes; in her mood of
+strenuous search for reality she can but repeat the Paduan chapter of
+Giotto’s strivings, in rare moments of vision and fulfilment she will
+merely begin where the Santa Croce frescoes of Giotto ended.
+
+However Giotto be ranked, and personally I see no greater artist on the
+rolls of history, his is indisputably the greatest single achievement;
+for no other artist who accomplished so much began with so little. It
+was no exaggeration that made Lorenzo Ghiberti regard the advent of
+Giotto as the coming to life of an art that had been buried for
+centuries. It is indeed the measured classicism of Giotto’s art that
+constitutes its greatness—its sweet and lucid reasonableness, its rugged
+yet disciplined strength. Seneca or Marcus Aurelius would have
+understood it perfectly, as Giotto himself, for his mellow wisdom and
+wit, would have been a welcome visitor at Horace’s Sabine farm. In his
+broad and flexible insight, his love of mankind, his clear perceptions
+of aims and ready acceptance of limitations, in his pathos without
+exaggeration, in his constructive skill without ostentation, in his
+simplicity without bareness, he is the authentic and indispensable link
+between the beauty of Greece and Rome and that of the Italian Golden
+Age. To know him is to know almost everything that is needful about
+older European painting, not to know him is to lack the very rudiments
+of an artistic education.
+
+
+Giotto left many followers,[12] not one of whom at all understood his
+greatness. Like his friend Dante, he was distantly admired, but really
+loved only in bits. As perceptive a person as the artist biographer
+Vasari lavishes praise upon Giotto for his more trivial inventions—the
+Christ Child struggling out of the arms of the High Priest, for example.
+So Giotto’s followers picked unintelligently from his great
+accomplishment, choosing what the master himself would least have
+valued—his simple contours without his significant mass, his variety and
+vivacity without his warmth and restraint. On their own account they
+added complication. The sparse economy of Giotto’s best work could never
+have appealed to Florence at large. Something richer and gayer was
+wanted, more like Florentine life itself as it became after the general
+loosening up of manners and morals following the plague of 1348. Its
+chronicler, the author of the “Decameron,” fairly represents the new
+spirit. The best of the younger painters have indeed something of
+Boccaccio’s mentality—his light touch, his charm, his panoramic
+richness, his fluid and undisciplined grace. Thus arises what I may call
+the panoramic style of fresco painting—superficial, full of episodes and
+accessories, still religious in theme, but mundane in spirit, often
+cleverly conceived, and very superficially felt. These artists had
+grasped neither the meaning of Giotto’s drawing nor the beauty of his
+decorative formulas, they saw only his variety and energy. Meanwhile a
+great Sienese painter, Ambrogio Lorenzetti, a profound admirer of
+Giotto, had worked out a nobly spectacular form of painting in which the
+stage setting was elaborate and realistic. He painted much in Florence
+about 1334 and his novelties allured the new men. So we find fresco
+painting tending in a scenic direction, and panel painting following the
+same course more conservatively—not merely in Florence and Siena, but
+throughout Northern Italy as well.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 25. Giotto’s Assistant at Assisi. Flight into Egypt. Compare
+    Figure 14.—_Lower Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 26. Taddeo Gaddi. St. Joachim Meets St. Anna. Compare FIG.
+    13_a_.—_Baroncelli Chapel, Santa Croce._
+]
+
+Many of Giotto’s immediate pupils are mere names to us. Maso, whom the
+sculptor commentator Ghiberti praised for his sweetness, Stefano whom he
+dubbed the “ape of nature,” Puccio Capanna—their work must be at Assisi,
+but criticism has not succeeded in clearly disengaging it. The nameless
+master who executed the Franciscan allegories at Assisi and designed the
+stories of Christ’s youthful days, in the adjoining right transept, is
+the most accomplished and individual follower of Giotto. He works for
+grace, pathos, sumptuousness, and decorative breadth. He is a Giotto
+with the angles rubbed down. By comparing Giotto’s Flight of the Holy
+Family to Egypt, with the later version at Assisi, Figure 25, we may
+grasp the difference between master and scholar. Giotto is brusque,
+harsh, noble; the flight through a rocky defile gives a sense of urgency
+and peril; the composition carries forward like the ram of a battleship.
+In the version at Assisi the flight has become an attractive family
+excursion through a romantic valley; the mood is gentle, charming,
+unspecific. A moment in an epic has been attenuated into an idyl. This
+master never fails to express a dreamy sort of poetry, and in such
+compositions as the Massacre of the Innocents, and the Calvary, he
+commands a genuine pathos. He is exactly what Giotto might have been,
+had he skipped the strenuous Paduan phase, and become a decorator
+without the preliminary discipline of the draughtsman. There are reasons
+for thinking that this work was done by a shop assistant of Giotto’s,
+who for many years directed the decoration of the Lower Church at Assisi
+in Giotto’s stead. Some of the work in the Childhood of Christ, I
+believe, may be as late as 1330 to 1335.
+
+Taddeo Gaddi is a more definite and less pleasing personality. He was
+Giotto’s godson and his assistant for twenty-four years, presumably from
+1313 to 1337, as well as his artistic executor. Whether in panel or
+fresco, he was an admirable craftsman; in tempera, a fine colorist. His
+panels are widely scattered, some ten being in the United States; his
+frescoes, all that we need to note, are in Santa Croce. In the
+Baroncelli Chapel, just after Giotto’s death, Taddeo finished these
+frescoes of the early life of the Virgin, repeating themes which Giotto
+had used both in Padua and elsewhere in Santa Croce itself. His way of
+competing with Giotto is to stir and add and mix things up. Compare the
+meeting of Anna and Joachim at the Beautiful Gate in the two masters;
+Giotto at Padua is grave, noble, heartfelt; how he discriminates between
+the masculine clutch of the old husband and the tender embrace of the
+wife—how drastic the conception is, but also how clear and stately. Poor
+Taddeo on the other hand brings the sacred pair together with the bounce
+of a modern dance, Figure 26. He brings no brains to bear, and almost no
+feelings, just a sprightly and wholly casual inventiveness. Certain
+delightful little panels with stories of Christ and St. Francis which he
+did in Giotto’s shop for the doors of the sacristy wardrobes of Santa
+Croce remind us of the pity that he ever ceased to be an interpreter of
+a greater man’s designs. In the fresco of Job’s trials, in the Campo
+Santo, Pisa, he seems nearly a great artist. Conceivably he worked on
+designs of his late master. At least he had a certain critical sense,
+for at an artist’s reunion at San Miniato, about 1360, he told Andrea
+Orcagna and the rest of the company that painting had constantly
+declined since Giotto and was declining every day. He transmitted, his
+sound craftsmanship to a son, Agnolo, who decorated the Choir of Santa
+Croce with the legends of the Cross. He carried down the panoramic style
+to the end of the 14th century, practicing it with more taste than his
+father, achieving a grace without much inwardness or force.
+
+A later contemporary of Giotto’s, Buonamico Buffalmacco,[13] seems to
+have inherited something of Giotto’s power, but the identification of
+his work is very uncertain, and he lives for us chiefly as an egregious
+wag in the pages of the Italian story writers.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 27. Giottino. Deposition—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+From another contemporary and possibly a scholar of Giotto, Bernardo
+Daddi, we have many panel pictures and a few frescoes at Santa Croce. He
+is an admirable craftsman, and a sincere illustrator, within his
+limitations, applying very competently to panel painting something of
+the panoramic realism of Ambrogio Lorenzetti. A prolific artist, his
+exquisitely finished little panels are quite common. In America are good
+examples in the New York Historical Society, in the Platt Collection,
+Englewood, and a more monumental piece in the Johnson Collection,
+Philadelphia. He lived well beyond the middle of the century.
+
+Giottino, who possibly is to be identified with Giotto’s pupil Maso, is
+a more delicate spirit with unusual resources of pathos. His best work
+is an altar-piece of the Deposition, Figure 27, painted about 1360 for
+the Church of San Remigio at Florence and now in the Uffizi. A
+preference for isolated figures and for vertical lines is noteworthy, as
+is the wistfulness of the attendant donors. Similar qualities of
+delicate precision as of dispersion are in the frescoes in Santa Croce
+which represent the Miracles of Pope Sylvester. The note is feminine and
+rather Sienese than genuinely Florentine.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 28. Andrea Orcagna. Christ conferring authority upon St. Peter
+    and St. Thomas Aquinas.—_Strozzi Chapel, Santa Maria Novella._
+]
+
+Outside of Giotto’s _bottega_ arose the rare continuers of his
+tradition. Such an artist flourished about the middle of the century in
+the person of Andrea di Cione, better known by his nickname of Orcagna.
+He was more of a sculptor and architect than a painter, a man of dignity
+and force, a poet and thinker. Although not a pupil of Giotto, he
+studied that master’s work admiringly, and sought to reproduce its
+massiveness. Its brusqueness he largely rejected. Instead of sketching
+the draperies summarily, he drew the folds carefully after the model; he
+liked to treat the panel and wall as a whole, where Giotto had accepted
+the tradition of subdivision; he gave to his faces a greater sweetness
+and he occasionally attempted foreshortenings and impetuosities of
+gesture that Giotto would have avoided. Unluckily Orcagna’s most
+important frescoes have perished. We may grasp his nobility in the
+altar-piece which he finished and dated in 1357, Figure 28, for the
+chapel of the Strozzi family at Santa Maria Novella. The formality of
+the composition is noteworthy, as is the stately sweetness of the
+Madonna. The subject is Christ delegating his Power and Wisdom
+respectively to St. Peter and to St. Thomas Aquinas.
+
+In the same chapel the figure of Christ leaning forward over a cloud and
+making the sublime gesture that decrees the end of the world and the
+Judgment Day, Figure 29, is probably designed by Orcagna, as are the
+larger figures below. We have here one of the freest and grandest
+conceptions of the period. The lovely garden-like heaven and the quaint
+and ingenious hell on the side walls are by Orcagna’s brother, Nardo di
+Cione. The mood is less grave than Orcagna’s, variety counts for more.
+The heads of the saints are of a most delicate beauty. Nardo has many of
+the qualities of the panoramic painters without their heedlessness. He
+represents a compromise between the severity of Giotto and the
+diffuseness of his own day. He worked indefatigably until 1366, and his
+younger brother, Jacopo, and his imitator, Mariotto, continued the
+manner almost into the new century.
+
+Orcagna was perhaps more versatile than critics have supposed. Recently
+discovered fragments of frescoes in Santa Croce, Figure 30, show a
+drastic power that no other Florentine possessed. The theme is miserable
+folk in time of pestilence crying out to Death to end their sorrows. The
+entire fresco would have shown Death passing them by and poising the
+scythe for prosperous and happy folk beyond. The whole scene exists in
+the famous frescoes of the Pisan Campo Santo which, while traditionally
+ascribed to Orcagna, are unquestionably of Sienese inspiration. They
+will occupy us later. Orcagna’s solitary position in Florence reminds us
+that artistic succession is rarely from master to pupil, but from great
+soul to great soul across intervening mediocrity.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 30. Andrea Orcagna. They call Death in Vain. Fragment from ruined
+    fresco of the Triumph of Death.—_Santa Croce._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 29. Andrea Orcagna. Upper part of Fresco of Last
+    Judgment.—_Strozzi Chapel, Santa Maria Novella._
+]
+
+Giorgio Vasari regarded Gherardo Starnina (active before 1400) as an
+important link between Giotto and the Renaissance, and if Professor
+Suida is right in ascribing the frescoes of the legend of St. Nicholas
+in the Castellani Chapel, Santa Croce, to Starnina, Vasari was quite
+right. About this mysterious pupil of Antonio Veneziano who worked in
+Spain, we really know almost nothing. But the St. Nicholas frescoes have
+a grimness and gravity which points back to Giotto and withal a careful
+fusion of light and shade which anticipates Masolino and Masaccio.
+Meanwhile Giotto’s own great compositions in still undiminished splendor
+and impressiveness stood ready to give lessons to the eye and mind that
+could read them aright. Before such later panoramists as Niccolò di
+Pietro Gerini, Mariotto di Nardo, and Spinello Aretino were gone, that
+eye was already busy, in the person of a rugged little boy of San
+Giovanni in Valdarno. He may have already been called Masaccio for his
+untidiness. He was to rebuild on Giotto and create the grand style of
+the Renaissance.
+
+A mere catalogue of those painters who pursued the panoramic method with
+ability can hardly be expected. One and all they followed the Sienese
+narrative style. Prominent would be certain incomers from other cities,
+Giovanni da Milano, Antonio Veneziano, and Spinello Aretino. These are
+typical decorators of the last quarter of the 14th century.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 31. Andrea Bonaiuti, The Navicella, fresco, closely imitated from
+    Giotto’s Mosaic at St. Peter’s, Rome.—_Spanish Chapel._
+]
+
+We do better to fix our attention upon the most remarkable example of
+the Florentine panoramic style, the decoration of the Spanish Chapel,
+the chapter house attached to the Dominican Church of Santa Maria
+Novella.[14] The work was begun by Andrea Bonaiuti in the year 1365, as
+we know from a recently discovered document. As decoration it is
+delightful, if rather superficially so. The artist treats his spaces as
+wholes, declining to cut them up into oblongs after the earlier fashion.
+He covers his great surfaces with ease and taste, has a knack at
+illustration, and a fine sense of color. The great Calvary over the
+triumphal arch imposes from its very vastness; the triangles of the
+cross vault, including a spirited transcript of Giotto’s Navicella,
+Figure 31, are composed with clarity and skill; the famous composition
+of the Dominican theologian, St. Thomas Aquinas, enthroned above the
+Liberal Arts and Sciences, and their representatives in history,
+combines an almost Byzantine formality and grandeur with prettiness and
+ingenuity in details. But the method is better shown in the decoration
+opposite, which represents the dual earthly powers, the Pope and the
+Emperor, enthroned equally, and supported by the representatives of the
+spiritual orders and secular estates, Figure 32. The group which
+symbolizes the right government of society, according to mediæval ideas,
+is set before a church which quite faithfully shows what the Cathedral
+of Florence was then intended to be. High up in the arch is the goal of
+all earthly endeavor—Heaven with Christ enthroned amid the angels; an
+altar with a lamb before Him, symbolizing His sacrifice; His Mother
+kneeling as intercessor for mankind. The Gate of Heaven with St. Peter
+in attendance, is naïvely set above the church on a sort of aerial raft.
+Below is a novel realistic touch, the villa-studded sky line of hills
+which encloses Florence. The real guide to St. Peter’s presence is
+always a Dominican monk, usually St. Dominic himself is intended—the
+founder and militant evangelist of the order, as St. Thomas Aquinas was
+its systematic theologian. In the lower range of the picture, St.
+Dominic confutes the heretics, who tear their wicked books in despair.
+Above he vainly beseeches careless gentlefolk at dalliance in an orange
+grove; still higher, he leads the truly penitent to Heaven’s gate. At
+the foot the Domini Canes (a bad pun for Dominicans) are vigilant. The
+moral of the fresco is, happy the world which trusts its worldly and
+religious business to the Emperor and the Pope, and its personal
+religious problems to the Dominicans. It is a kind of glorified poster
+for the order.
+
+In its sprightliness, variety, complication and facile charm, it is a
+fine example of the panoramic style. It lacks every quality of
+seriousness whether as a composition or in the drawing of the figures.
+But its fairy tale profuseness and ease have made it ever since it was
+painted, one of the most popular decorations in Italy. Its success shows
+the kind of taste with which the few disciplined artists of the
+fourteenth century had to contend. Such obstacles have ever been the
+fate of the artist who cares enough for his art to practice it
+austerely.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 32. Andrea Bonaiuti. Dominican Allegory of Church and State.
+    Fresco.—_Spanish Chapel._
+]
+
+Work of the facile and superficial character of the Spanish Chapel
+Florence produced in abundance for two generations after Giotto’s death.
+His faithful but dull disciple, Taddeo Gaddi, as we have seen, gloomily
+foresaw the downfall of the art of painting. But as in a great
+personality the recreations and even dissipations seldom permanently
+eclipse the greater purpose, so Florence was big enough to indulge for a
+time her weaker side. Had Taddeo Gaddi been more intelligent, or even
+more hopeful, he would have seen that new masters must arise, and that
+there would soon be pictures in Florence at which Giotto come back to
+earth would gaze with that humility with which he had once viewed the
+marble gods of Rome, with that understanding sympathy which he had borne
+to all his fellow mortals.
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER I
+
+
+               ON THE DIGNITY AND WEALTH OF OLD FLORENCE
+
+Giovanni Villani, _Historie_, XII, 4, regrets the passing of decorum
+with the advent of the French and the Duke of Athens in 1342, but wealth
+increased.
+
+“Formerly the clothing and costumes [of the Florentines] was the most
+beautiful, noble and distinguished of any nation, in the manner of the
+togaed Romans.” Evidently the look of things favored the art of a
+Giotto.
+
+In book XI, ch. 91–93, Villani gives remarkable and quite modern
+statistics which I paraphrase and quote, in part from the Giunta
+edition, Venice, 1559. The time is about 1340.
+
+“We found by diligence that in these times there were in Florence 25,000
+men fit to bear arms, from 15 to 70 years old, among whom there were
+1506 nobles.... There were then in Florence 65 fully equipped knights,
+though before the middle class which now rules was organized, there were
+more than 250 knights.... There was estimated to be 90,000 ... men,
+women and children in the city. There is supposed to be generally in the
+city 1,500 foreigners, travellers, and soldiers not counting in the
+population the clergy, monks, and nuns.... In the outlying districts are
+supposed to be 80,000 people. We have found from the rector who baptizes
+the children (since for every male who was baptized in San Giovanni—in
+order to have the count—was dropped a black bean, and for every female a
+white) that for every year in these times there were from 5,800 to
+6,000, the males generally exceeding by 300 to 500 a year.
+
+“We find that the boys and girls at [primary] school were from 8,000 to
+10,000. The boys who study the abacus (calculation) and arabic numbers,
+in six schools, from 1,000 to 1,200. And those who are learning [Latin]
+grammar and logic, in four great schools, from 550 to 600.
+
+“The churches, which were then in Florence and in the suburbs, counting
+the abbeys, and monastic churches, we find to be 110, of which 57,
+parish churches ... 5 abbeys and two priories with 80 monks, 24 convents
+of nuns, with more than 500 women, 10 friaries with more than 700
+friars, 30 hospitals with more than 1000 beds to lodge the poor and
+infirm, and from 250 to 300 chaplain priests.
+
+“The shops of the cloth makers (_arte della lana_) were 200 and more,
+and they made from 70,000 to 80,000 bolts, at a value of more than
+1,200,000 gold florins, although fully a third part staid in the city
+for the workers, without gain for the cloth handlers, and the workers
+are more than 30,000 persons....
+
+“The warehouses of the art of the _Calimala_, for the French and
+transalpine cloth, were 20, which brought in per year more than 10,000
+bolts of a value of 300,000 gold florins, all of which was sold in
+Florence....
+
+Banks of money changers 80.... Shops of bootmakers ... 300. The college
+of judges, from 80 to 100. And notaries from 600 up, doctors of physic
+and surgery 60, and druggists’ shops 100....
+
+“The greater part of the well-to-do, rich, and noble citizens with their
+families, staid in the country for four months, and some, more, a
+year.”...
+
+“Other dignities and magnificences of our city of Florence I should not
+fail to bring to memory, for information of such as shall come after us.
+It was, within, well built with many beautiful palaces and houses, and
+in these times they were continually demolishing, thus bettering the
+building by making it more comfortable and rich, bringing in from
+outside the examples for every sort of betterment and beauty. Churches,
+cathedrals, friaries of every rule, monasteries, magnificent and rich.
+Furthermore, there was no citizen who did not have a country place,
+great or small, which was not richly built, indeed far greater buildings
+than in the city; and every citizen sinned by inordinate spending,
+whence they were thought crazy. But it was so magnificent a thing to
+see, that a foreigner, not used to coming in, believed, because of the
+rich structures for three miles about, that it was all one city after
+the manner of Rome, not to mention the rich palaces, towers, court
+yards, terraced gardens, still further from the city, which in any other
+country would have been called the rural districts. In short one would
+have thought that within six miles of the city were more rich and noble
+inhabitants, than, taking them together, two Florences could have
+produced. And let this suffice for telling of the facts of Florence.”
+
+
+                  GIOTTO’S VIEW OF FRANCISCAN POVERTY
+
+Giotto’s humanistic detachment from the Franciscan doctrine of voluntary
+poverty is well illustrated in his poem which is quoted in part from
+Dante Gabriel Rosetti’s translation. The original is in G. Milanesis’
+edition of Vasari, _Le Vite_, Vol. I, Florence 1878, pp. 426–8.
+
+              “Many there are, praisers of Poverty;
+              The which as man’s best state is register’d
+                When by free choice preferr’d,
+              With strict observance, having nothing here.
+              For this they find certain authority
+              Wrought of an over-nice interpreting.
+                Now as concerns such thing,
+              A hard extreme to me it doth appear,
+                Which to commend I fear,
+              For seldom are extremes without some vice,
+                Let every edifice,
+              Of work or word, secure foundation find;
+                Against the potent wind,
+              And all things perilous, so well prepared—
+              That it needs no correction afterward.”
+
+
+          A CONTRACT WITH ORCAGNA FOR THE ALTAR-PIECE OF 1357
+
+Tommaso di Rossello Strozzi left a rough note of the terms of the
+contract for the altar-piece of his chapel. Doubtless the actual
+contract was much fuller. The minute is published by Filippo Baldinucci,
+_Opere_, Milano 1811, Vol IV. p. 397.
+
+“Herewith is to be written [on my part] and Andrea called Orcagna that I
+Tommaso di Rossello aforesaid have given to paint for the altar-piece
+which is made for the altar of [the chapel] in Santa Maria Novella, of a
+breadth of five braccia, 1 sol. [over 10 feet] there or thereabouts. The
+aforesaid Andrea is to paint in fine and splendid colors; and gold,
+silver and everything else are truly to be used in the entire panel and
+pinnacles, that is [gold] leaf. Only in the side columns may silver be
+used.... And [with] as many figures as [directed] by me Tommaso it shall
+be completed. And the said panel to be entirely painted by his own hand.
+
+“[1] 354 in twenty months....
+
+“Should it come about that the aforesaid Andrea should not give it to us
+completed and painted.”
+
+“He should pay me for every additional week that he works at the
+painting as it shall seem right to the judgment of the here named
+arbitrators.”...
+
+“Should it come to more than the aforesaid price, we will take the
+judgment of Carlo, Paolo and Fra Jacopo.”
+
+Such is approximately the sense of this very difficult and quite
+grammarless annotation of Tommaso Strozzi. The arbitrators must have had
+occasion to act, for the panel is dated 1357, two years after the
+promised time.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 33. Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Madonna of San Francesco.
+]
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+             SIENA AND THE CONTINUING OF THE MEDIÆVAL STYLE
+
+  On the Romantic instability of Siena—Fidelity to Byzantine
+      Ideals—Guido, Coppo, the Master of the Altar-front of St.
+      Peter—Duccio and his great Majesty of the Madonna—His twofold
+      tendency: to elaborated staged narrative; to sparse and exquisite
+      decoration—Simone Martini and the Idealistic chivalric style—The
+      Brothers Lorenzetti and the popular panoramic style—Second half of
+      the Fourteenth Century—The Fifteenth Century: Sassetta and
+      Giovanni de Paolo—Matteo, Benvenuto and Neroccio—The Renaissance
+      and the downfall of the School, Francesco di Giorgio, Sodoma.
+
+
+As you enter Siena by the wide Camollia gate you will read in Latin
+“Siena opens her Heart still wider to thee”:—_Cor magis tibi Sena
+pandit._ Thus Siena avows herself the city of the heart. Where Florence
+studied and calculated, she mused and dreamed; where Florence was solid,
+she was volatile. For unrewarding idealisms she had a kind of genius.
+Long after the other Italian communes had seen it was worst possible
+business to support the emperor, Siena was faithful to that lost cause.
+Every few years she changed her form of government, and seldom for the
+better. Merrymaking and pageantry were universal in old Italy, but Siena
+alone had a Spendthrift Club (_Brigata Spendereccia_) devoted to
+continual pleasure, and a poet, Folgore da San Gemignano, to celebrate
+its gaieties. Siena was ardent in inconstant fashion. Early in the 14th
+century was found a nude marble Venus so beautiful that it was set up in
+the great square and thronged with admirers. Then the war with Florence
+went badly, and at a few words from a pious fanatic, the citizenry
+smashed up the image and secretly buried the bits on Florentine soil to
+bring bad luck to the foe. Naturally no bad luck ensued to Florence, but
+Siena had enjoyed two delightful emotional crises. You will see why
+Siena never could produce a realistic art, any more than Ireland has
+produced one. Her eye was not on the object but on her own state of
+mind. Thus Florence will produce historians, scientists, and
+politicians, while Siena will produce saints and miracles.
+
+Amid this romantic inconstancy, the continuing thread was the cult of
+the Blessed Virgin. No other city thought so delicately of her, and no
+other art has represented her so ideally. Had she not saved the city? In
+1259 the Florentine Guelfs and their allies marched with overwhelming
+force to the very gates of Siena. Ruin was imminent and despair abroad,
+when by a common impulse the populace marched penitently to the
+Cathedral and before the rude picture of the Queen of Heaven solemnly
+committed the city into her hands. In ecstacy of renewed faith the
+inferior army of Siena fell upon the invaders at Montaperti and utterly
+routed them. In gratitude Siena remained the city of the Virgin. When in
+1310 the painter Duccio replaced the rude effigy of the Madonna of
+Victory with one of the finest Madonnas known to art, Fig. 37, the whole
+city suspended business and escorted the picture from the studio to the
+Cathedral with hymns and litanies in honor of their divine patroness.
+
+Nowhere else has painting paid such homage to the Virgin Mary. In other
+cities it was enough to represent her enthroned with a handful of angels
+or saints in attendance. The Sienese painters multiplied the celestial
+escort until it became a heavenly court over which the Mother of God
+presides in sweet majesty. Siena also grasped at the then not quite
+orthodox subject of the Assumption of the Virgin into Heaven. You see
+her slender form rising amid a glory of angels more than a hundred years
+before the theme was common elsewhere.
+
+These brief hints will tell of the temper of Siena. You will not expect
+such a city to be like Florence, interested in facts and charmed by the
+human spectacle. She will be rather engrossed with the beauty of old
+legends and in rare forward-looking moments concerned with her own
+devout imaginings. She will not wish the saints to be like the people
+one knows, but like denizens of some divine, far-off fairyland. Her
+painting will not be humanistic but of an unworldly idealism.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 34. Guido of Siena. Madonna.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Such being the temper of Siena, her artists, unlike those of Florence,
+had no quarrel with the Byzantine style. Its splendid irreality only
+needed to be made flexible and gracious. Siena has really no new ideas
+to express, merely feelings more tender and exquisite. Her pictorial
+reforms are reverent and gradual, backward-looking, mediæval. Her art
+from 1300 to 1500, as lovely within its narrow limits as the closed
+garden of the Virgin, has the great interest of teaching us what
+capacities for growth lay in the mediæval tradition itself—what painting
+in Italy would have been had Siena exercised her temporary might after
+Montaperti and razed Florence five years before Giotto was born.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 35. Sienese about 1275. Altar-front of St. Peter.—_Siena._
+]
+
+A little earlier than the year 1225, when Florence called in strangers
+to adorn the Baptistery with mosaics in the Greek style, Guido of Siena
+signed and dated 1221 the most famous of his madonnas. Unhappily the
+enthroned Virgin of the Palazzo Pubblico was repainted some fifty years
+later, a fact which has led many critics unnecessarily to doubt the
+date.[15] But from half a dozen other pictures by Guido we may learn
+that he was a diligent and rather heavy-handed imitator of the current
+Greek formulas, Figure 34. At the battle of Montaperti the Sienese
+captured an excellent Florentine painter, Coppo di Marcovaldo, and in
+1261 he painted the admirable madonna which is still in the church of
+the Servi. It shows a sensitive use of the Byzantine conventions. There
+is pensiveness and almost shyness in the face and posture of the Virgin,
+and loving intentness in that of the Child. Their relation is to each
+other and not as in earlier madonnas to the devout public. These
+intimate qualities have been ascribed, I think wrongly, to restoration.
+But they appear even more emphatically in the entirely unrestored
+Madonna, Figure 3, in the collection of Mr. Otto Kahn, which I think may
+be a Coppo[16], and is in any case of similar date and feeling.
+
+The same process of sweetening the old style while accepting it, is
+shown in the famous altar-piece of St. Peter in the Academy at Siena,
+Figure 35. The gaunt figure of the Saint is completely traditional, the
+little stories of the Annunciation and Nativity at the side show a new
+vivacity and a new grace. Siena met the innovating painter more than
+half way, for the indignant citizens soon marred with their knives the
+crucifiers of the head of the Christian Church. The date of the panel
+will not be far from 1275, and already the painter of genius who was to
+create the sweet, new style was learning his trade.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 36. Duccio Purcellai Madonna.—_Santa Maria Novella, Florence._
+]
+
+Of Duccio di Buoninsegna, the father of the Sienese school, and
+everything considered its greatest master, we have numerous records,[17]
+and by no means all to his credit. He must have had the artistic
+temperament in a degree then unusual. The court records show half a
+dozen fines against him, and he was not scrupulous about paying his
+debts. One forgets these foibles before those Madonnas which are a
+consummate expression of taste and those narratives which are a triumph
+of tact and ingenuity. Duccio’s mind does not grasp the harsher and more
+heroic emotions, but within the realm of the tender and pathetic he is
+supreme. His elegance appears in his first important work, the famous
+Rucellai Madonna, Figure 36, in Santa Maria Novella at Florence, which
+tradition erroneously ascribes to Cimabue. It is presumably the great
+panel which Duccio contracted to paint in 1285.[18] He was probably
+young and unconsidered, for he took all the risks, agreeing that the
+picture might be rejected at the will of the patrons. The Society of
+Saint Mary the Virgin would have been foolish indeed to reject the most
+gracious Madonna the world had then seen. Characteristic of Duccio are
+the swaying curves of the contours and especially of the draperies, the
+thin, delicately folded robes of the Child and the attendant angels and
+the sensitively drawn bare feet. Working in Florence and doubtless
+impressed by Cimabue, Duccio has retained in this early work a certain
+austerity which gives way in his later work to a more feminine
+sweetness. For that very reason the Rucellai Madonna is perhaps the
+greatest Madonna of the century, since without loss of the stately
+Byzantine qualities, she gains the new attributes of grace. It was no
+wonder that when the name of Duccio had faded out of the Florentine
+memory, Florence ascribed this noble Madonna to the venerated founder of
+her native school, Cimabue. Recent criticism has righted the unconscious
+wrong thus done to Siena.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 37. Duccio. Madonna in Majesty.—_Opera del Duomo, Siena._
+]
+
+To mature his style Duccio needed only to intensify the qualities of
+sweetness and grace which are evident already in the Rucellai Madonna.
+The stages of his growth are represented in minor works at Siena and in
+British and Roman collections. But his fame, for the layman, is
+associated with the magnificent altar-piece which he executed for the
+Cathedral of Siena, and only the special student need look beyond it. On
+the 9th of October, 1309, Duccio contracted with the trustees of the
+Cathedral to do a great altar-piece wholly with his own hands, at the
+rate of sixteen soldi a day and expenses. He promised to take no other
+work during the painting. It was finished in June of 1311 and carried in
+solemn procession from the bottega outside the Porta a Stalloreggi to
+the Cathedral. A chronicler describes the cortege “parading about the
+Campo, as is usual, all the bells pealing a glory in devotion for so
+noble a picture as this is.... And all that day they kept praying with
+many alms which were given to poor folk, praying to God and His Mother,
+who is our advocate, that she defend us in her infinite mercy from every
+adversity and every ill, and save us from the hands of traitors and foes
+of Siena.” Most characteristic of the febrile patriotism of Siena is
+this constant dread of the traitor.
+
+About a year before this ceremony the trustees enlarged the scheme for
+the picture, making an additional contract for thirty-eight stories to
+be paid at the rate of two florins and a half each. These were put on
+the back of the altar-piece, covering very fully the life of Christ and
+that of the Virgin. Thus the front of the altar-piece represents the
+decorative and monumental ideals of Sienese painting while the back
+exemplifies its feeling for narrative. Everything that Sienese painting
+was to be is already in germ in this marvellous work.
+
+In depicting the Virgin “in Majesty,” Figure 37, Duccio has magnified
+the theme. Earlier pictures show only a handful of angels in attendance.
+Here we have a cloud of celestial witnesses, the four patrons of Siena
+kneeling in the foreground, at the sides charming alternation of grim,
+bearded evangelists, orientally soft girl martyrs, and youthful
+archangels. Seven years earlier Cimabue had conceived a similar great
+Majesty for the Church of Santa Chiara at Pisa.[19] Doubtless Duccio had
+seen it, and, though it is lost to us, we may assume, that the Sienese
+artist outdid his prototype both in sweetness and splendor.
+
+In many ways Duccio’s Majesty is highly traditional. It shows the
+Byzantine horror of voids, is a little crowded. But this defect would be
+less apparent if it were raised on its historiated base (_predella_)
+with its original pinnacles above. Everything derives from Byzantine
+exemplars, reverently improved in a realistic direction. Duccio has
+dared to paint the Christ as a laddie; and not as a little old man; he
+has shown the soft forms of His body through light draperies; he has
+kept the austerity of the Byzantine apostles but has attenuated their
+harshness; he has worked the insipid female masks of the older art into
+forms of a positive and dreamy grace. One feels the tender mood of the
+work in the Latin jingle at the foot of the throne, typical of dozens of
+similar dedications in Siena:
+
+                        Mater Sancta Dei
+                        Sis caussa Senis requei
+                        Sis Duccio vita
+                        Te quia pinxit ita
+
+which I may rudely paraphrase:
+
+                 Holy Mother of God: grant Siena rest,
+                 Grant life to Duccio,—he did his best.
+
+All the sensibility of the City of the Virgin is in these prattling
+rhymes with which they loved to hallow and offer great pictures.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 38. Duccio. Entry into Jerusalem; Christ Washing the Apostles’
+    Feet; Last Supper. From the back of the great Madonna.—_Opera del
+    Duomo, Siena._
+]
+
+If the front of this panel shows only moderate innovations, the case is
+not so for the back. The two score stories from the Bible or early
+Christian legend, in the distribution of the figures follow faithfully
+the standard Italo-Byzantine compositions. Where Duccio steps in is in
+bettering the forms, giving grace to the draperies, and animation to the
+gestures—above all in providing contemporary architectural accessories,
+and coping with the problem of space. He also carries to their ultimate
+refinement certain decorative formulas which the Byzantine painters had
+glimpsed but not fully realized. Thus two quite opposed tendencies pass
+into Sienese painting from Duccio;—a rather small preoccupation with
+accessories and the problem of space, and a pure æstheticism concerned
+with finesses of decorative arrangement—in short, the prose and the
+poetry of Sienese painting.
+
+Sienese narrative painting tends to be scrupulous about details and
+inscenation, quite as a good story-teller naturally provides incidents
+that make for plausibility. We may see how Duccio’s mind works in the
+familiar theme of Christ entering Jerusalem, Figure 38. Duccio sets the
+spectator in a garden with an open gate, thus throwing the scene back a
+little. Above the procession and the rejoicing throng rises a city wall,
+and still higher against the sky bristle Gothic towers and spires. Thus
+the theme gains picturesqueness and variety. One forgets that there is
+hardly space for the welcoming throng before the gate, and that the
+donkey’s four feet are on a level although he is going up hill. These
+little maladjustments show that while Duccio took infinite pains in
+inventing the setting, he borrowed the figure groups bodily from earlier
+Byzantine compositions in which the setting was simpler. In this
+piecing-together process he turns some pretty sharp corners, but he
+never sacrifices clarity and expressiveness.
+
+In the scene where the maid servant catches the Galilean burr in Peter’s
+voice, Figure 39, and asks if he be not a follower of Jesus, we find
+Duccio’s method quite at its best. Nothing could be better than the
+sudden turn of the girl with one foot on the steps. Fine, too, is the
+concentration of the crowd on the exciting problem of gossip.
+Well-observed, their actions as they warm their feet and hands at the
+fire. Vivid, too, the impulsive gesture of Peter as he denies the
+charge. The place, a court yard with a staircase leading right into the
+picture above, which represents the court room where Jesus is being
+questioned, is most elaborately planned. One looks back through a portal
+into farther spaces. All this was so new and interesting that I presume
+the Sienese have never noticed to this day that the seated group would
+never fit in the space assigned to it and that the positions of the
+figures are ambiguous. The picture does admirably its work of telling a
+story spiritedly, and that is enough.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 39. Duccio. Peter denies Christ.—_Opera del Duomo, Siena._
+]
+
+Duccio’s Calvary, Figure 41, is remarkable for breadth, spectacular
+effectiveness, and a measured pathos. As usual he multiplies actors and
+incidents while keeping the orderliness of the arrangement. The
+slightness of all the forms, their little weight and uncertain balance
+are apparent. And there is, on the same principle of taste, a similar
+attenuation of emotion. Where Giotto at Padua gave stark tragedy, Duccio
+offers a gentle flutter of restrained grief.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 40. Duccio. The Marys at the Tomb.—_Opera del Duomo._
+]
+
+Such is the average of these narratives, clear, picturesque,
+circumstantial, infused with a generalized and never very intense
+emotion. There are some, mostly composed with few figures, which reveal
+a great fastidiousness of arrangement. In such a composition as the
+Marys at the Tomb, Figure 40, Duccio reveals himself as pure æsthete, as
+consummate master of linear composition. The motive is essentially
+insignificant, merely that the Marys shrunk at the sight of the angel at
+the tomb, but out of that motive of withdrawal is wrought through the
+little panel a lovely rhythm to which everything contributes—the rise of
+the cliffs and their crinkly edges, the contrasting angles of the tomb
+and its impossibly tilted lid, the reciprocal curve of the angel. We
+grasp in the picture a general truth which reaches far beyond Duccio and
+Siena, that a too conscious struggle for style precludes any complete
+expression of emotional significance. For this picture is as trivial as
+a narrative as it is exquisite as a decoration.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 41. Duccio. Calvary.—_Opera del Duomo._
+]
+
+Duccio, who disappears from our sight about the year 1318, fixed once
+for all the character of the Sienese school. In narrative it was to
+adopt the placid and tender tone of legend, most unlike the urgent and
+dramatic mood of Giotto. The Sienese artist was too reverent to raise
+the question how did this happen, and how did the persons feel; he asked
+rather “How do we feel about it as believers?” The beauty of the work,
+then, is not that of outer reality but of revery and meditation. It
+never has the tang and variety of good Florentine narrative painting,
+but within its lovingly modulated monotony, Sienese narrative painting
+is supremely charming.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 42. Simone Martini. Madonna in Majesty. Fresco.—_Palazzo
+    Pubblico, Siena._
+]
+
+Duccio also started in Siena a somewhat worried and petty concern with
+accessories, architecture, complications of perspective. He inaugurated
+a tradition of material splendor in gilding, tooling, delicate
+graduation of color which remained the glory of Sienese painting for
+nearly two centuries. So far as we know he painted only in tempera on
+panel, and the Sienese generally were to triumph in this feminine form
+of work rather than in the masculine methods of fresco. Finally Duccio
+took over from Byzantine art and perfected certain finesses of highly
+simplified and abstract composition, a pure æstheticism distinctly
+Sienese and wholly alien to the warm humanism of Florence. You will find
+this austerely lovely style at its best in Simone Martini, and surviving
+as late as Sassetta and the middle of the fifteenth century.
+
+After Duccio, Sienese painting divides itself into two tendencies, one
+aristocratic, chivalric and æsthetic, deriving from his decorative
+manner; the other popular, narrative and realistic, deriving from his
+minutely staged scenes on the back of the great altar-piece. Of the
+aristocratic style Simone Martini is the greatest exemplar, of the
+popular style, the brothers Lorenzetti.
+
+Simone Martini was born in 1283 or thereabouts. We first meet him as an
+artist in the great frescoed Majesty of the Virgin, Figure 42, completed
+in 1315 for the Palazzo Pubblico, Siena. The arrangement is like that of
+Duccio’s Majesty, finished only five years earlier, and the facial types
+are generally those of Duccio. But the great fresco gains clarity and
+impressiveness from the added space, from the picturesque motive of a
+canopy, from the isolation and elevation of the Madonna above her
+escort, and from the rich Gothic forms of the throne, which are a
+novelty in painting. While most of the faces show the orientalism of
+Duccio, the Madonna has the level-browed, intent character of Gothic
+art, and the Child is realistic. Gothic again is the graceful border
+with its fine medallions, and the bright colors of the whole. It is the
+most splendid enthroned Virgin in the world, and she is conceived
+chivalrically as a sort of tournament queen with her paladins upholding
+a canopy, and angel pages on their knees offering roses and lilies.
+
+To the Sienese this was a political picture, as a rhymed inscription in
+Italian shows. The saintly patrons of Siena address the Virgin:
+
+               “Angelic flowers, roses and lilies
+               With which the heavenly meadow is adorned,
+               Delight me less than do good counsels.
+               But sometimes I see such as verily
+               Despise me and my city betray,
+               And gain praise the more for evil words,
+               With such as merit condemnation.”
+
+The Virgin answers the saints patrons somewhat evasively:
+
+                 “Fix my delights in your minds,
+                 So that I shall, as ye wish,
+                 Fulfil your honorable requests.
+                 But if the powerful molest the weak,
+                 Oppressing whether with shame or harm—
+                 Let not your prayers be made for these
+                 Nor for whomsoever betrays my city.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 43. Simone Martini. St. Martin Knighted.—_Lower Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+In Simone’s work this great Majesty is an exception. He preferred
+generally to work on a more restricted scale, to burn the lamp of
+æsthetic sacrifice. I can merely allude to the great idealized portrait
+of St. Louis of Toulouse, in S. Lorenzo, Naples. It was painted for King
+Robert of Anjou, whose kneeling figure appears in the picture, sometime
+after 1317. The thing is resplendent in gold and azure, adorned by
+curiously twisted Gothic borders; in sentiment it is impassive as a
+Buddhist painting.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 44. Simone Martini and Lippo Memmi. The Annunciation.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+About the year 1325,[20] we may surmise, Simone was called to Assisi to
+fresco the Chapel of St. Martin in the Lower Church. He set upon the
+walls so many fairy tales, tender and sprightly in sentiment, provided
+with the few essential accessories that a rapid story-teller would need.
+What more charming than the boy Martin praying while they bind on him
+the equipment of a knight, Figure 43, and musicians sound a fanfare!
+What more gallant than the lad setting out on crusade against the
+Teutons who lurk in a cleft of the background! This gracious childlike
+quality, quite akin to the tender phase of Duccio, is exceptional in
+Simone, who habitually is the strenuous decorator.
+
+His sparse and austere methods appear clearly in the commemorative
+fresco of Guidoriccio, hired general of Siena, and conqueror of
+Sassoforte. It is in the Palazzo Pubblico and duly dated 1328. Nothing
+is realistic but the horse and rider. They are isolated, hold alone a
+field made up of pure symbols for camps, and fortresses and craggy
+hill-tops, yet the martial effect is unmistakable and the composition
+most quaintly impressive.
+
+The quintessence of Simone’s later art is in the famous Annunciation of
+the Uffizi, Figure 44. In order to justify the most nervously exquisite
+of linear arrangements he has chosen the least significant moment of the
+event. His Virgin is merely a sullen princess resenting an intrusion;
+the Gabriel, an etherialized courtier pleading a cause with apologies.
+But the contrast of the advancing and shrinking motives gave Simone
+precisely what he wanted. He builds up areas richly colored or brocaded,
+bounded by sharp curves, relieved by flutters and spirals of flying
+drapery, and accentuated by such details as the olive twigs and the lily
+which have the crisp incisiveness of finest metal work. As a triumph of
+pure decoration Gothic painting has nothing better to show than this
+lovely panel which was finished in 1333 for the chapel of Sant’ Ansano
+at Siena. It has little quality of heart in it, and no reverence save
+that of consummate workmanship.
+
+Great honors awaited Simone. He was called to the exiled papal court at
+Avignon in 1339, met Petrarch, painted Petrarch’s Laura and is lauded in
+one of the poet’s sonnets. Of Simone’s work at Avignon we have only a
+few small panels scattered between Antwerp, Paris, Liverpool, and
+Berlin. The compositions, most of which belonged to a composite
+altar-piece depicting Christ’s passion, waver between his old simple
+style and a crowded and animated mood reminiscent of Duccio, and
+influenced by the Lorenzetti. Simone is unable to resist the universal
+tendency towards diffuse narrative, and in so far as he yields to it, he
+is less than himself. Christ Bearing His Cross, in the Louvre,
+exemplifies the extravagance and morbidness of this latest manner,
+Figure 45. His strength lies in sacrifice and abstraction, his real
+affinities are the contemporary Buddhist painters of China and Japan,
+though of course he knew nothing of them. He died in 1344, leaving
+behind him a tradition of fastidious artistry which was potent in Siena
+for over a century.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 45. Simone Martini. Christ bearing His Cross.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+As late as 1450, Lorenzo Ghiberti informs us in his “Commentaries,”[21]
+the Sienese regarded Simone Martini as their greatest painter. He
+differed from them, preferring, himself, Ambrogio Lorenzetti. This was
+an eminently Florentine choice, Ambrogio’s warmth, concreteness, and
+elaboration were on the whole Florentine. He worked for several years at
+Florence, must have known Giotto, certainly studied him with discerning
+admiration. With his elder brother, Pietro, Ambrogio Lorenzetti gave to
+Duccio’s tradition of detailed narrative painting its perfected form.
+They were great fresco painters, and most characteristic as such. In
+panel painting they are less original, but they bring into this highly
+conventional art a great ardor and curiosity. They represent the popular
+average of Siena as Simone Martini represented its aristocratic
+minority.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 46. Pietro Lorenzetti. Madonna with Saints, 1320.—_Pieve,
+    Arezzo._
+]
+
+We first meet Pietro Lorenzetti as an artist in the altar-back at the
+Pieve, Arezzo,[22] Figure 46, which was finished in 1320. It is an
+_ancona_, or compartmented piece and the most splendid that has come
+down in Romanesque form. The figures are of two sorts. The Madonna is of
+intent Gothic type, and the fine motive of holding off the Christchild
+at elbow length in order to see him better is borrowed from Giovanni
+Pisano, who in turn took it from French Gothic sculpture. So are the
+forms above in the Annunciation new and graceful, while the little boxed
+room with its plastic column is also novel. The Assumption of the
+Madonna in the highest pinnacle is probably the earliest occurrence of
+this famous Sienese theme in painting. But all the figures of saints in
+the three orders of the side panels are taken almost without change from
+Duccio’s great altar-piece. It would be interesting to trace Pietro’s
+emancipation through a dozen panels. No one better combined dignity with
+grace, and feeling, and splendor. His work in fresco is fragmentary and
+confused with that of his younger brother. We are certain of nothing
+except a fragment of a deeply felt Calvary in the Church of St.
+Francesco, at Siena. Many critics ascribe to him the agitated and wildly
+picturesque frescoes of the Passion in the left transept of the Lower
+Church at Assisi.[23] But this, I think, is a mistake. Pietro is never
+in his certain works so lively and indecorous and casual. We have to do
+with an artist influenced by Duccio working about 1330, Pietro himself
+may appear as the Stigmatization, Figure 47, and one or two of the other
+simpler compositions. The other frescoes are chiefly interesting as
+showing the dangers of the panoramic method of Siena. Take the Last
+Supper, Figure 48. The theme is simply lost in the fantastic richness of
+the accessories. It is hard to find Christ or Judas, for the eye seeks
+the radiating rafters or the scullery where cats lurk and eager
+scullions wipe the dishes.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 47. Pietro Lorenzetti, or Follower. St. Francis receiving the
+    Stigmata. Fresco.—_Lower Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 48. School of Pietro Lorenzetti. The Last Supper. Fresco.—_Lower
+    Church, Assisi._
+]
+
+In the Birth of the Virgin, dated 1342, Figure 49, Pietro spoils a
+carefully studied and well-felt picture by elaboration of the setting.
+The frame is conceived as the plastic front of a Gothic room within and
+behind which, spaces are multiplied confusingly. Here the pedantic
+preoccupation with the problem of space offends the eye and destroys the
+unity of what in a simpler setting would be a monumental composition. It
+illustrates the dangers of that smaller realism which from Duccio down
+afflicted the more progressive painters of Siena. Such a picture enables
+us to appreciate the tact and thoughtfulness with which Ambrogio
+Lorenzetti approached his narrative themes.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 49. Pietro Lorenzetti. Birth of the Virgin.—_Opera del Duomo,
+    Siena._
+]
+
+Ambrogio Lorenzetti was born about the beginning of the century. In 1331
+and later he painted remarkable frescoes for the Church of St. Francis.
+These if complete would afford the most interesting comparisons with
+Giotto at Florence, but the two that remain are among the best narrative
+paintings of the time. What will first strike the observer in the story
+of St. Louis of Toulouse renouncing his throne as he takes the
+Franciscan vow, Figure 50, is the variety and orderliness of the
+emotions. The devotion of the saint is well offset by the intense,
+melancholy curiosity of his brother Robert, who becomes king through the
+sacrifice. The audience is divided into admiring Franciscans and idly
+marveling courtiers, the whole well dominated by the kindly and reverend
+figure of the Pope. Remarkable is the methodical division of the spaces.
+A slender column establishes the picture plane and sets the figures
+back. A sort of desk in a hollow square defines and isolates the
+monastic group, while the courtiers have their appropriate location in a
+third plane of alcoves. Florence has next to nothing of this sort at
+this period, and it may be noted that this careful division of spaces is
+not matter of display and curiosity as in Duccio, but is logical and
+effective as regards the persons of the narrative.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 50. Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Prince Louis of Toulouse receives the
+    Franciscan Vow.—_San Francesco, Siena._
+]
+
+Of similar significance, but more dramatic and picturesque, is the
+martyrdom of the Franciscan missionaries before the Sultan of Morocco.
+The elaborated spaces make for clarity, the entirely professional and
+impersonal cruelty of the Moorish tyrant and his bodyguard is splendidly
+caught and effectively contrasted with the courageous submission of the
+martyrs. Lorenzo Ghiberti praises the energy and character of this work,
+and the observer of today feels as deeply its romantic appeal. All the
+figures are set on receding platforms, the problem of space is solved
+along lines of intelligent literalism.[24]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 51. Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Madonna in Majesty.—_Massa Marittima._
+]
+
+It would be a pleasure to dwell on the Madonnas of Ambrogio. The tragic
+Madonna of S. Francesco, Figure 33, the Madonna with St. Dorothy and St.
+Lucy, in the Siena Academy, the Virgin in Mr. Dan Fellowes Platt’s
+collection are among the best. No other early Italian so combined
+nobility with motherly warmth. His splendor and sweet dignity may best
+be felt in the Majesty of the Virgin, Figure 51, in the little town of
+Massa Marittima. The central motive, Mary and the Child embracing, is
+almost Ambrogio’s invention. He rings the changes on it in lovely
+modulations, while always retaining monumentality. This picture is as
+stately as Duccio’s Majesty, and as resplendent as Simone Martini’s,
+while having qualities of ardor and fancifulness all its own. The
+fairy-like Virtues on the steps of the Madonna’s throne especially show
+the rich vein of pure fantasy which accompanied Ambrogio’s robustness.
+The picture may be dated about 1336 or later.
+
+Previous to its painting Ambrogio had passed some years at Florence,
+where he must have studied and known Giotto, and where he himself
+influenced powerfully the beginnings of the new panoramic style.
+Whatever frescoes he himself did there have perished, and the only
+memorials of his visit are certain delightful little panels telling with
+vivacity and utmost circumstantiality the legends of St. Nicholas. At
+Florence he must have analyzed Giotto’s great political frescoes, now
+lost, which depicted in symbols good and bad government. These were
+surely the inspiration for the political symbols and illustrations which
+Ambrogio, in the year 1337 and later, painted in the great hall of the
+Palazzo Pubblico at Siena.
+
+The most famous is the Allegory of the State. The Commune sits
+enthroned, above in the air are the theological virtues—Faith, Hope and
+Charity; seated at the side are the four secular virtues—Prudence,
+Temperance, Justice, and Fortitude—and with them two additional
+personifications useful to a state—Magnanimity and Peace. The graceful
+relaxed figure of Peace, Figure 52, with her filmy drapery is famous.
+Below the platform on which the Commune sits with attendant virtues, are
+the grim, disciplined forms of men-at-arms and a throng of magistrates
+and citizenry. At the left are symbolized Concord and Justice as the
+supporters of a well-ruled state. Here the symbolism is childishly
+obvious. Concord holds her smoothing plane. From her hand go strings
+which bind in fellowship a group of citizens below and lead above to the
+figure of Justice. Still higher is Wisdom. Justice deals punishment with
+one hand and grants aid with the other; the Middle Ages never admitted
+that Justice was merely punitive. The figures of Justice and Concord are
+superb,—Ambrogio’s Madonna type on a heroic scale.
+
+As a pictorial representation of the finest mediæval ideas of
+statecraft, this fresco is of incomparable interest. As a decoration it
+is hardly successful. The theme has hampered the artist, the handling of
+the figures in several scales with the largest above, produces confusion
+and topheaviness. Beautiful in the parts, it is disappointing in the
+whole.
+
+Far better merely as decoration is the companion fresco which represents
+the Effects of Good Government, Figure 53. We have a peaceful city, the
+entrancing spectacle of Siena as she was about the year 1339. Girls are
+dancing a carol in the foreground with the quaintest dignity, mounted
+merchants are passing, and if the picture were better preserved, we
+should see the mechanics—or “artists” as they still call themselves in
+Italy—working cheerily in their shops. In its richness without
+confusion, this is the very triumph of the panoramic realism which
+Ambrogio made popular throughout Italy.
+
+There are many more frescoes in this series, mostly by imitators of
+Ambrogio. The Sienese region is full of works by him or by his faithful
+followers. His panel pictures are in many galleries of Europe and
+America. They all confirm the record of Ghiberti that Ambrogio had the
+habits of a nobleman—a great sympathy, a fine scrupulousness, a real
+magnanimity. Certain contemporaries seem greater, Giotto surely, Simone
+Martini perhaps, but no Italian painter until Raphael himself reveals so
+complete and harmonious a development. We find no trace of the brothers
+Lorenzetti after 1348. Presumably they perished in the great plague of
+that year.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 52. Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Peace, from the Fresco of Good
+    Government.—_Palazzo Pubblico, Siena._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 54. Luca Tommé. The Assumption of the Virgin.—_Jarves Coll., New
+    Haven, Conn._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 53. Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Results of Good Government—The Peaceful
+    City. Fresco.—_Palazzo Pubblico, Siena._
+]
+
+For a century after the plague year, 1348, the painters of Siena
+imitated either the narrative realism of Ambrogio or the decorative
+sparseness of Simone Martini. It is customary to align them as of one
+camp or the other. We may indeed say that such painters as Lippo Memmi,
+Andrea Vanni, and Naddo Ceccarelli faithfully echo Simone, while such a
+master as the influential Bartolo di Fredi, who is traceable as late as
+1388, seems completely Lorenzettian. But most of the painters follow
+freely both tendencies, employing Simone’s formulas in altar-pieces with
+few figures, and Ambrogio’s in narrative. Such eclecticism produced
+abundantly works of charm, for delicate sentiment and ornate
+workmanship, but rather few works of originality. Perhaps because of
+willingly accepted limitations, the average is higher than that of
+Florence. Throughout Italy it was a more popular style than the
+Florentine. It dominated the coast region from Naples to Valencia,
+penetrated into Umbria and the Adriatic marshes, and even got a
+temporary foothold in Florence itself. It fitted in better with mediæval
+ideals than the art of Giotto and Orcagna, which implied classical
+antiquity and anticipated the humanism of the Renaissance. On the whole
+Sienese art runs down after the Lorenzetti died, losing the robustness
+which Ambrogio had learned of Giotto, but its decline is gentle and
+interrupted by beneficent reactions towards its established glories. We
+may pass rapidly, and chiefly considering types, the fifty-odd years
+between the Lorenzetti and the new century.
+
+Luca Tommé is credited with an exquisite little Assumption, Figure 54,
+in the Jarves Collection at Yale University. The picture, though it may
+be as late as 1370, repeats loyally the formulas which Pietro Lorenzetti
+invented nearly fifty years earlier. Perhaps Bartolo di Fredi, a rather
+superficial and over-fecund artist, best represents the average
+condition as the fourteenth century closed. In such a panel as the
+Adoration of the Magi, in the Siena Academy, Figure 55, we see the
+familiar theme for the first time expanded in a Lorenzettian sense. It
+becomes a pageant, probably under the influence of contemporary mystery
+plays. It is best conceived in the little scenes in the background; the
+facial types and the simplified setting on the whole recall Simone
+Martini. In other narrative pictures Bartolo vies with Ambrogio
+Lorenzetti in complication of planes and architecture. On the whole he
+is a rather faint echo, but his note while thin is also true.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 55. Bartolo di Fredi. Adoration of the Magi.—_Siena._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 56. Barna. The Transfiguration.—_Collegiata, S. Gemignano._
+]
+
+The declining century produced only one robust painter in Siena, the
+mysterious Barna whose damaged frescoes of the Passion we see in the
+Collegiate Church of San Gemignano. The forms are those of Simone
+Martini, the compositions even more sparse than his, denuded of all
+accessories, and powerfully impressive for this reason. The mood is
+brusque and tragic, with nothing of Sienese sweetness. Barna seems a
+kind of provincial Giotto misplaced and unrealized in the Sienese
+country. In the fresco of the Transfiguration, Figure 56, he rises to
+sublimity. Fra Angelico will merely repeat him in San Marco sixty years
+later. Vasari tells us that Barna died from a fall from his painting
+scaffold in 1381, and that he was then young. If so, his originality was
+tremendous, for he cleared away ruthlessly all the delightful but
+trivial stage furniture so diligently collected by Duccio and the
+Lorenzetti. Modern criticism ascribes to him several panels, and I
+venture to add to the list the simple and stately Marriage of St.
+Catherine in the Boston Museum of Art. Certainly it is one of the most
+serious creations of the period. The type of the Christ and the concise
+and characterful arrangement seem to mark it as a fine Barna. The base
+is interesting, representing the composing of a blood feud, and Miracles
+of St. Michael and St. Margaret. While the simple pattern continues the
+tradition of Simone, Barna avoids Simone’s linear grace-notes. The
+finical element of the predecessor yields to a kind of realism. Barna is
+really the critic of the Sienese school. He silently insists that one
+may be decorative without too much artifice, and dramatic without
+overtaxing the stage carpenter, a very solitary and elevated spirit, to
+whom full justice has not yet been done.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 57. The Three Living and Three Dead, detail from the Lorenzettian
+    fresco, The Triumph of Death.—_Campo Santo, Pisa._
+]
+
+Most remarkable among the works inspired by the Lorenzetti is the
+coarsely effective Triumph of Death, Figure 57. in the famous cemetery
+cloister, Campo Santo, at Pisa. It represents the hazards of the mortal
+life in view of certain death and judgment. At the left a royal hunting
+party is stopped short by the sight and stench of three festering bodies
+in coffins. The Hermit, Saint Macarius, points the obvious lesson that
+kings and lords and fair ladies will turn to dust. In the centre,
+miserable folk beckon and cry to Death to descend and put them out of
+their distress. The harridan death ignores the prayer and flies over a
+pile of corpses towards a gay garden party. Death loves to cut down the
+young and gay and happy, leaving the old and crippled to prolonged
+sorrow. In the upper left hand corner you have monks going about their
+quiet pursuits. The whole adjoining fresco is given up to the lives of
+such desert saints. At the upper right are angels and fiends struggling
+for little nude forms that represent human souls. This motive is a sort
+of overflow from a picture of the Last Judgment. The grim moral of the
+three pictures is that the worldly life is one of mortal peril, which
+may best be avoided by renouncing the world and joining a monastic
+order. The work was completed about 1375, is in the rougher following of
+the Lorenzetti, and has been famous ever since it was painted on the
+cloister wall. Entirely Sienese in its conception, in its ruggedness it
+transcends the usual softness of the school. It is the last significant
+work of the 14th century.
+
+Siena passed into the fifteenth century without greatly changing her
+art. In the work of such traditional figures as Taddeo Bartoli one may
+observe a certain coarsening of the tradition. Mere splendor tends to
+replace the old delicacy, narrative painting becomes ever more
+complicated and confused. The latter tendency is manifested in frescoes
+which Domenico di Bartolo painted, between 1440 and 1443 for the
+Hospital of the Scala, Figure 58. Their crowded picturesqueness grows
+legitimately out of the Lorenzettian tradition, as does the elaboration
+of architectural accessories. But the work also implies a certain
+knowledge of the current Florentine discoveries in linear perspective
+and in architecture. A small ingenuity runs pretty wild in these
+decorations, valuable as they are in picturing the times.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 58. Domenico di Bartolo. Clothing the Naked, from fresco series,
+    the Seven Acts of Mercy.—_Scala Hospital, Siena._
+]
+
+About the time these frescoes were designed, a renovation of Sienese
+painting was being made along divergent lines by Stefano di Giovanni,
+nicknamed Sassetta,[25] and by the eager eccentric, Giovanni di Paolo.
+In both cases we have a reactionary reform. Sassetta restudies devoutly
+Simone Martini and the Lorenzetti, infusing his own tender mysticism
+both into decoration and narrative. In a manner he combines the two
+great currents of Siena’s past. We may best approach him through the
+triptych of the Birth of the Virgin in the Collegiate church at Asciano,
+Figure 59. It is his earliest work painted not much later than 1428
+when, being thirty-five years old, he joined the Painters’ Guild. The
+picture is conceived in the strictest Lorenzettian fashion, the frame
+being treated as the front or extension of the painted architecture.
+Aside from this carefully constructed setting, with its successive
+spaces, the casual and familiar distribution of the figures suggests
+strongly Pietro Lorenzetti. But the rich accessories in Sassetta’s hands
+are delicately selected, the humble gestures have an artless grace, the
+secondary figures such as the brocaded handmaid entering from the rear
+are fascinating in their own right. An air of alert gentleness runs
+through the picture. It is shared by persons of all ages. Such episodes
+as the chatting of two old men before a respectfully listening urchin
+add nothing to the story but strongly reinforce the faery charm of the
+whole. Winsomeness has supplanted the monumental quality of the older
+school. Above in the side gables are the scenes of the passing of the
+Virgin’s soul and her funeral procession, both conceived in the manner
+of the Lorenzetti. But the familiar forms are singularly animated by a
+new spirit of tenderness. By a paradox these little stories are really
+more like Duccio than any intervening work.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 59. Sassetta. The Birth of the Virgin.—_Asciano._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 60. Sassetta. Marriage of St. Francis to Poverty.—_Chantilly,
+    France._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 61. Sassetta. Temptation of St. Anthony.—_Jarves Coll., New
+    Haven, Conn._
+]
+
+Sassetta painted seven years on his masterpiece, the now scattered
+_ancona_ for the Franciscan Church at Borgo San Sepolcro. The central
+panel was a St. Francis in ecstacy, now in Bernard Berenson’s
+collection. On the back were eight of the legends of the “Fioretti.” The
+panel was finished in 1444. Especially delightful is the panel at
+Chantilly which represents St. Francis’s mystical betrothal with
+Poverty, Figure 60. This scene is before Monte Amiata, spaced off from
+the group by checkerboard fields. The maidens, Chastity and Obedience,
+sway lily-like beside their more resolute sister, Poverty, upon whose
+timidly offered hand the little saint firmly fixes a ring. Above, the
+celestial trio rises over the mountain line, Poverty turning a regretful
+face to her humble bridegroom. The simple pattern with its swaying lines
+derives from Simone Martini, but there is none of his petulant
+superiority in it, none of his nervousness. The realm is not the airless
+heights of a pure æstheticism but a very human dreamland. Again Duccio
+at his best is the closest analogy. Bernard Berenson in his admirable
+little book _A Painter of the Franciscan Legend_ well describes the
+technical perfection of such work as this. It is conceived in “outlines
+which have in themselves an energy and vitality, that, whether they are
+representative or calligraphic, give off values of movement, and values
+of movement have the power to suggest the unembodied, life unclogged by
+matter, something in brief that comes close to the utmost limits of what
+visual art can do to evoke spirit.”
+
+Apart from these sublimated reveries of Sassetta which express
+themselves in utmost delicacy of line, hue, and touch, he had a
+refreshing, drastic, almost a humorous side, which may be exemplified in
+a Temptation of St. Antony, Figure 61, in the Jarves Collection at New
+Haven. Beside his coral-red hut in a desert bounded by a wood that seems
+the world’s end, the Saint starts away from a demure and very plain
+little girl. He is perplexed, divining rather than seeing the tiny bats’
+wings which mark her as a demon. The horizon is so curved that one
+almost feels the old earth swinging unconcernedly beneath this dilemma.
+A picture full of grotesque and authentic imagination, most true to the
+hobgoblin tradition of the expiring Middle Ages.
+
+Sassetta died in 1450, and his two long-lived pupils, Sano di Pietro
+(1406–1481) and Giovanni di Paolo, (1403–1482) kept something of his
+influence alive for still thirty years.
+
+Sano needs few words. He took nothing from his master but certain formal
+patterns, fine gilding and blithe colors. He repeats himself tediously,
+there are over fifty of his panels in the Siena Academy alone, yet is so
+genuine and unpretending that one forgets his lack of delicacy and
+insight. A little Coronation of the Virgin, at New Haven, may
+sufficiently represent his decorative phase. It is a nosegay of fair
+colors on burnished gold. In narrative painting he is Lorenzettian
+without the _finesse_ of his master. At least he helped prolong a lovely
+tradition beyond its natural term, and that is his chief merit. “A
+famous painter and a man wholly dedicated to God”—(_Pictor famosus et
+homo lotus deditus Deo_)—we read in his death notice. Siena knew how to
+appreciate a traditionalist.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 62. Giovanni di Paolo. Young St. John Baptist goes to the
+    Desert.—_Formerly Charles Butler Coll., London._
+]
+
+Giovanni di Paolo, on the contrary, suffered not from deficient
+originality but from its excess. He selects restlessly from the older
+pictures. You will find pure Duccian figures in his paintings of the
+fifties. He studies the sparse decorative perfections of Simone Martini
+and exaggerates their nervousness. He drives expression into caricature,
+seeks strength in distortion, was the post-impressionist of his day. His
+extravagance is unpleasing in his larger pieces, but is piquant enough
+in his numerous small panels. One of a pair in English private
+possession shows the Youthful St. John jauntily setting off for the
+desert, with a quite cubistic treatment, Figure 62, of the lines of the
+fields. The motive is still more ingeniously employed in one of a
+remarkable set of pictures belonging to Mr. Martin Ryerson of Chicago.
+Giovanni’s predilection for distortion and grimace is shown in The
+Baptism of Christ, a pendant to the story of the youthful John, both
+being parts of one predella.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 63. Matteo di Giovanni. Saint Barbara with Saints.—_S. Domenico._
+]
+
+Giovanni died in 1482 at the advanced age of seventy-nine, having
+faithfully preserved the old Gothic tradition while making it a vehicle
+of his own resolute eccentricity.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 64. Matteo di Giovanni. Massacre of the Innocents.
+]
+
+The slight concession which Siena made to the Renaissance was
+inaugurated by Lorenzo Vecchietta, active from about 1440 to 1480. He
+was primarily a sculptor and his silver altar-back was deemed worthy, in
+1506, to displace the great Majesty of Duccio from the high altar of the
+Cathedral. Vecchietta chiefly shows the effect of his studies as
+architect and sculptor in a severe regard for anatomy, and in the
+Renaissance character of his architectural settings. He painted for the
+Cathedral of Pienza a majestic Assumption, his masterpiece. There are
+numerous frescoes by him at Siena; he is perhaps most agreeable in
+little stories elaborately set amid rich architecture, but he lacks the
+sprightliness of the true narrative tradition. “He was a melancholy and
+solitary person,” writes Vasari, “and always sunk in thought.” He did
+something to give to the Sienese painting of the end of the century a
+new and complicating thoughtfulness.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 65. Benvenuto of Siena. Assumption of the Virgin.—_Metropolitan
+    Museum, New York._
+]
+
+Far the most versatile painter at Siena in the second half of the
+fifteenth century was Matteo di Giovanni.[26] He was not a native, but
+born about 1430 at Borgo San Sepolcro in upper Umbria. There he worked
+for a time with that stern realist Piero della Francesca. Thus Matteo
+brought to Siena better training than his fellows had, but he soon fell
+contentedly into the ways of the place. His madonnas and female saints
+have a new touch. They are more girlish and fragile than their
+predecessors, more exquisite, more fashionable. The type is represented
+in dozens of panels of which Enthroned Saint Barbara, at Saint Domencio,
+dated 1477, Figure 63, is a fine example.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 66. Girolamo di Benvenuto. Love bound by Maidens. Birth
+    Salver.—_Jarves Coll., New Haven, Conn._
+]
+
+In such work Matteo continues the tradition of Sassetta along somewhat
+superficial lines of prettiness. He is far more original in the several
+versions of the Massacre of the Innocents, in which seeking a maximum of
+intensity he achieves only a very interesting sort of caricature. The
+picture at S. Agostino, Figure 64, dated 1482, is perhaps the best of
+the group. We are in the realm of the grisly fairy tale, at an ogre’s
+sports. The crowding, tumult, ornate architecture are simply Matteo’s
+attempts to refurbish the old Lorenzettian tradition. His real quality
+best appears in the outlines prepared for the figure decoration of the
+pavement of the Cathedral. In general his is an engaging but entirely
+undisciplined talent, oscillating after the fashion of the moment, alike
+in Florence and Siena, between mere prettiness and sheer restlessness.
+He died in 1495, Michelangelo’s star being already in the ascendent over
+neighboring Florence.
+
+A kind of petrification of the traditional charm of Siena is in the work
+of Benvenuto di Giovanni, scholar of Sassetta. He cultivates a
+resplendent impassivity, is severe without much background of knowledge.
+His stiffness is gracious enough, like that of an aristocrat who
+maintains amid difficulties the dignity of an older school. His sense of
+formal pattern and skill in modeling in a very blond key may be enjoyed
+in his versions of the favorite theme of the Assumption. One of the best
+of these, dated at the end of the century in the year 1498, is in the
+Metropolitan Museum, Figure 65. Benvenuto was born in 1436 and died
+about 1518. He might, had he chosen, have studied the whole realistic
+development from Fra Angelico to Leonardo da Vinci, but his painting
+keeps a chill virginal quality quite apart from life, its problems and
+allurements.
+
+His son Girolamo continued the manner with less monumentality until his
+death in 1524. To his early activity belongs the delightful salver, Love
+Bound by Maidens, Figure 66, in the Jarves Collection at New Haven. It
+is merely the tray on which the gifts were presented to a young mother
+during the visits of congratulation. It was painted for some member of
+the famous Piccolomini family, presumably about the year 1500. The stern
+maidens who are plucking and binding the stripling Love, doubtless are
+personifications of Chastity, Temperance and the like. In the middle
+distance a knight rides off free to adventure since Love is safely
+bound. It is an odd theme for a gift to a young bride and mother, but
+the Italians never required consistency in their compliments. The
+daintiness of the treatment is typical for Renaissance painting at
+Siena, which never assumes a robust or realistic or humanistic accent.
+
+There is a refinement which is the harbinger of death. It appears in
+Siena in the person of Neroccio di Landi. He sublimates the style of his
+great predecessors, Simone and Sassetta, adding freely the more delicate
+ornamentation of the Renaissance. There is a peculiar pallor in his
+coloring and tension in his modelling. It is an art of nerves and
+ecstasies, wholly etherial. An admirable Annunciation in the Jarves
+Collection at New Haven shows the rich setting, the odd blend of
+precision with a languor that marks Neroccio as true grandson of Simone
+Martini. There are many little panels of Madonnas with saints of amber
+translucency. They have the startling vividness and irreality of an
+hallucination. And there is a portrait of a girl in the Widener
+Collection, Figure 67, which is of a superlatively delicate prettiness.
+Neroccio was born in 1447 and died in 1500. With him passed the special
+fragrance of Sienese art.
+
+Until 1475, Neroccio was in partnership with one whose ambition went far
+to destroy what Neroccio and Siena stood for. Francesco di Giorgio was
+born in 1439. With an ambition and resolution wholly un-Sienese, he
+mastered the arts of painting, sculpture, architecture and engineering.
+He met Leonardo da Vinci at Pavia, worked for the tyrants of Milan,
+competed for the façade of the Cathedral of St. Mary of the Flower at
+Florence. As architect and engineer it appears that he became a
+cosmopolitan, in painting it was hardly so. He is most delightful in his
+early phase which is represented by a bride-chest in the Wheelwright
+collection, Boston. It represents Prince Paris insolently appraising the
+charms of the rival goddesses, and at the right riding Troywards in
+disregard of the despair of forsaken Œnone. The classical theme is
+tinged with mediævalism, naturalized as Sienese. Later pictures, such as
+The Nativity, Figure 68, in the Sienese gallery, show Francesco uneasy,
+twisting his figures for grace and display of knowledge, working over
+the old landscape formulas in a semi-realistic sense, adding classical
+architecture, generally trying to break the bounds of the old idealism.
+The result is restlessness or at best an ambiguous charm. Siena is
+beginning to regret her isolation, to make vain efforts to overtake the
+tide of humanistic realism, to envy Florence, and even Perugia and
+Cortona. From the point of view of the Renaissance she was two
+generations behind, and no longer indifferent to the fact.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 67. Neroccio di Landi. Portrait of a Girl.—_Widener Coll., Elkins
+    Park, Pa._
+]
+
+Not merely Francesco di Giorgio tries to do in a decade the work of a
+century, but such younger contemporaries as Fungai and Pacchiarotti look
+to Florence or Umbria. Siena was given no time to reconstruct, and her
+old beautiful art could not readily assume new forms. Siena never
+assimilated the Renaissance. It invaded her, killed her native art and
+substituted one without local flavor. Before Francesco di Giorgio died,
+in 1502, he had seen Luca Signorelli called to Siena and the clever
+decorator Pintorricchio. Siena no longer trusted her own artists.
+Francesco probably took little note of the advent in 1501, of a young
+Piedmontese painter, Antonio Bazzi,[27] nicknamed Sodoma, yet with
+Sodoma remained what little future there was in Sienese painting.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 69. Sodoma. Vision of St. Catherine of Siena. Fresco.—_S.
+    Domenico, Siena._
+]
+
+Sodoma brought to Siena the knowledge of Leonardo da Vinci, the new
+draughtsmanship in light and shade. He assimilated the sensibility of
+Siena but coarsened it. No painter of the time was more overtly
+sentimental. His famous St. Sebastian at Florence tells all that need be
+known about him,—his considerable skill, his exaggerated pathos, his
+clever use of poise and balance, his sober modern tonalities. His
+sentimental power is at its height in the fresco at S. Domenico, Siena,
+which represents S. Catherine swooning at the vision of her lover, the
+Christ, Figure 69. Sodoma worked indefatigably in and about Siena till
+1549. The few local painters of a progressive sort, Domenico Beccafumi,
+Girolamo del Pacchia, either directly imitate Sodoma or draw from
+similar alien sources. The only man of genius Siena produced in these
+years, Baldassare Peruzzi (1481–1536), soon went to Rome where in
+architecture he held his own with all comers, whereas in painting he
+became a modest imitator of Raphael.
+
+In the ten years after 1500 the old art perished. Siena from being the
+last radiant exemplar of the glory of the mediæval spirit sunk to the
+estate of a fourth class station of the Renaissance. Her idealism could
+not bear the test of reality. Her domain had been that of legend and
+fairy tale and dream, she had ruled it exquisitely for two centuries
+until sheer taste had absorbed her little strength. She had left
+unforgettable records of her most precious feelings, but little record
+of her outer activities. Think how portraits abound in Florentine and
+Venetian art after 1450! There are practically none at Siena. So it
+would be futile to go to Siena for a greater understanding of the active
+life. But if you would requicken the sense of legend, live over again
+the tenderness mankind has ever felt for the beautiful past, hear some
+faint blowing of the horns of elfland—if you want this experience, then
+go to The gracious City of the Virgin and you shall find fulfilled the
+generous motto over her main portal—Siena will open her heart wide to
+thee.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 68. Francesco di Giorgio. Nativity.—_Belle Arti._
+]
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER II
+
+
+                    A SONNET TO THE SPENDTHRIFT CLUB
+
+                                   by
+
+                        FOLGORE DA SAN GEMIGNANO
+
+                            _translated by_
+
+                         DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI
+
+           “I give you horses for your games in May,
+             And all of them well trained unto the course—
+             Each docile, swift, erect, a goodly horse:
+           With armor on their chests and bells at play
+           Between their brows, and pennons fair and gay;
+             Fine nets and housings meet for warriors,
+             Emblazoned with the shields ye claim for yours,
+           Gules, argent, or, all dizzy at noon day;
+
+           And spears shall split and fruit go flying up
+           In merry counterchange for wreaths that drop
+             From balconies and casements far above;
+           And tender damsels with young men and youths
+           Shall kiss together on the cheeks and mouths
+             And every day be glad with joyful love.”
+
+
+                        HOW VENUS FARED IN SIENA
+
+  Ghiberti, in his commentaries (ed. Frey, Berlin 1886, p. 57 ff.) tells
+  how a marble Venus, bearing the name of Lysippus was dug up at Siena.
+
+  “I saw it only as drawn by a very great painter of the city of Siena,
+  who was called Ambrogio Lorenzetti. This drawing was kept with
+  greatest care by a very old Carthusian. This brother was a goldsmith,
+  and his father, and was a designer and delighted greatly in the art of
+  sculpture; and he began to tell me how that statue was discovered as
+  they were making an excavation where now are the houses of the
+  Malavolti; how all those instructed and versed in the art of
+  sculpture, with the goldsmiths and painters ran to see this so
+  marvellous and artistic statue. Every one praised it greatly, and also
+  the great painters who then were in Siena—to every one it seemed
+  absolutely perfect. And with all honors they set it upon their
+  fountain, as a most splendid thing. All gathered to place it with
+  greatest rejoicing and honor and they fixed it magnificently upon that
+  fountain, which statue reigned there but passingly.”
+
+  “For as the city had many adversities in the war with the Florentines,
+  and the flower of the citizenry were assembled in council, a citizen
+  rose and spoke about the statue in this tenor: ‘Gentlemen and
+  citizens, having considered that since we have found this statue it
+  has always gone wrong with us, and considering that idolatry is
+  forbidden by our faith, we must believe of all the adversities which
+  we have that God sends them for our errors. And behold in truth that
+  since we have honored this statue we have always gone from bad to
+  worse. I am certain that so long as we keep it in our territory it
+  will always go wrong with us. As a councillor I would advise that it
+  be taken down and shattered and split up and be sent to be buried on
+  the soil of the Florentines.’
+
+  “Unanimously they confirmed the words of their citizen and put them in
+  execution, and the statue was buried upon our soil.”
+
+
+           A PROCESSION ON THE COMPLETION OF DUCCIO’S MAJESTY
+
+  “On the day that it was carried to the Duomo the shops were shut; and
+  the Bishop bade a goodly and devout company of priests and friars
+  should go in solemn procession, accompanied by the Nine Magistrates
+  and all the officers of the Commune and all the people; all the most
+  worthy followed close upon the picture, according to their degree,
+  with lights burning in their hands; and then behind them came the
+  women and children with great devotion. And they accompanied the said
+  picture as far as the Duomo, making procession round the Campo as is
+  the use, all the bells sounding joyously for devotion of so noble a
+  picture as is this. And all that day they offered up prayers, with
+  great alms to the poor, praying God and His Mother who is our
+  advocate, that he may defend us in His infinite mercy from all
+  adversity and all evil, and that He may keep us from the hands of
+  traitors and enemies of Siena.”
+
+  Translated in Edmund G. Gardiner’s _The Story of Siena_, p. 178, from
+  the Anonymous contemporary chronicler published by A. Lisini in
+  _Notizie di Duccio_.
+
+
+           A CONTRACT FOR AN ALTAR-PIECE BY PIETRO LORENZETTI
+
+  “Master Pietro, son of the late Lorenzetto, who was of Siena, solemnly
+  and willingly promises and agrees with the venerable Father Guido, by
+  God’s grace Bishop of Arezzo, who stipulates in the name and stead of
+  the people of St. Mary of Arezzo—to paint a panel of the Blessed
+  Virgin Mary, ... in the centre of which panel shall be a likeness of
+  the Virgin Mary with her Son and with four side figures according to
+  the wish of the aforesaid Lord Bishop, working in the backgrounds of
+  these figures with finest gold leaf, 100 leaves to a florin, ... and
+  the other ornaments of silver and of best and choicest colors; and
+  using in these five figures best ultramarine blue; and in the other
+  adjoining and surrounding spaces (panels) of this picture to be
+  painted likenesses of prophets and saints, according to the wish of
+  this Lord Bishop, with good and choice colors.”
+
+  “It must be six braccia long and five braccia high in the middle,
+  apart from two columns each a half braccia wide, and in each should be
+  six figures worked with the aforesaid gold, and the work shall be
+  approved by this Lord Bishop....”
+
+  “And he [Pietro Lorenzetti] must begin this work according to the wish
+  of this Lord Bishop, immediately after the wooden panel shall have
+  been made, and must continue in this work until the completion of this
+  picture, not undertaking any other work &c. And therefore the said
+  Lord Bishop Guido promises to have given and assigned to him the panel
+  made of wood; and to pay him for his wages for the picture and for
+  colors, gold and silver one hundred and sixty Pisan lire; that is the
+  third part at the beginning of the work, the third part at the middle
+  of the work, and the remaining third part when the work is finished
+  and complete &c.”
+
+  “Done in the church of the Holy Angels in Arcalto outside of and next
+  to the cemetery.”
+
+  Translated and slightly abridged from Borghesi and Banchi, _Nuovi
+  Documenti per la Storia dell’ Arte Senese_, (Doc. 6, p. 10) Siena,
+  1898.
+
+
+  This contract well illustrates the elaborateness and strictness of
+  such agreements. It may be compared with the picture itself (Fig. 46).
+  Apparently the artist persuaded the Bishop to give up the plan of
+  twelve prophets and saints on two side pilasters, and made instead a
+  greater number (15) of figures in the upper arcade and pinnacles.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 70. Andrea del Castagno. David, Slayer of Goliath. Parade
+    Shield.—_Widener Coll., Elkins Park, Pa._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+                      MASACCIO AND THE NEW REALISM
+
+  Ghiberti, Brunellesco, and Donatello about 1400 begin to study Nature
+      and the Antique—The new secular spirit—Discontent with the old
+      pictorial style expressed in reaction by Lorenzo Monaco—in
+      cautious reform by Fra Angelico—and Masolino—in revolutionary
+      reform by Masaccio—The Cassoni painters as illustrators of
+      contemporary manners—Masaccio and the new structure in light and
+      shade—The Problem of the Brancacci Frescoes—Masaccio’s enduring
+      influence—The early Florentine Realists—Paolo Uccello and
+      Perspective—Andrea del Castagno and Anatomy—Domenico Veneziano and
+      Oil Painting—Alesso Baldovinetti.
+
+
+In the two earlier chapters we have considered what Giorgio Vasari calls
+the vigorous childhood of Italian painting. We are now to observe its
+splendid youth. The story appropriately begins with three young men and
+the year 1401 and with a baby, later nicknamed Masaccio, who was born
+that same year. The three young Florentines represent the new
+time-spirit. The lucky one, Lorenzo Ghiberti, has just won a competition
+for the new bronze doors of the Baptistery, and has in that one
+commission more than twenty years of happy work ahead. Ghiberti is
+sensitive and thoughtful beyond the wont of the older craftsmen artists.
+He writes of an antique statue: “It has sweetness of modelling which
+cannot be caught either in a strong or a dim light, only the hand and
+touch can find it.” Ghiberti is a critic and analyst as well as a
+creator. In his “Commentaries,” a product of his old age, he writes:
+“Thus I have always sought for first principles, as to how nature works
+in herself, and how I may approach her, how the eye knows the varieties
+of things, how our visual power works, how visual images come about, and
+in what manner the theory of sculpture and painting should be framed.”
+This is the mood of the Renaissance in its most serious aspect.
+
+This student mood was fully shared by two young friends of Ghiberti.
+Donatello, the sculptor, and Brunellesco, later the designer of the dome
+of the Cathedral at Florence, had lost in the competition for the
+Baptistery doors. They accepted defeat magnanimously, joined forces and
+went to Rome, where their persistent way of poking among the ruins got
+them the name of the treasure seekers. Such indeed they were, but the
+treasure they sought was not gold, but the secrets of the ancient
+sculptors and architects. So Donatello refined and perfected the rugged
+realism he had from nature. As early as 1416 he was to carve the alert
+and noble St. George for Or San Michele. Brunellesco’s life dream was
+that lightest and loveliest of domes which is still the architectural
+crown of Florence, and almost incidentally he threw off designs that
+filled Florence with elegant colonnades and churches which renewed the
+dignity and joyousness of the best Roman building. A resolute spirit,
+Brunellesco once tramped the sixty miles from Florence to Cortona to see
+a newly excavated statue. Not incidentally, then, but by hardest study,
+Brunellesco worked out a correct practice of linear perspective. This
+needed resource for the painter was now available when any one had the
+sense to ask for it, and all the time young Masaccio was growing up in
+San Giovanni up the Arno.
+
+Such is the immediate background for the forward move in painting which
+begins in 1422, or thereabouts, and runs through fifty years of eager
+experimentation. As in the first revival the sculptors and architects
+had shown the way to the painters, so it was again. But there is also a
+remoter social and commercial background for the Early Renaissance which
+we must consider briefly. The great plague of 1348 cuts Florentine
+history sharply in two. It marked an acceleration of gayety and
+worldliness, of sports and pageantry. The chronicler Matteo Villani[28]
+noted with amazement that the plague had caused not repentance but
+dissipation. He was shocked to see the old toga-like costume of the
+Florentines give place to the bobtailed jerkins and parti-colored hose
+borrowed from wicked France. Heritages were many and heirs few. You saw
+the gowns of gentle and noble ladies on backs of hussies or worse—the
+new wives. People ran to “the sin of gluttony, to feasts and taverns,
+delicate viands and games.” As for the poor folk, they no longer wished
+to work at their trades, they expected the costliest food, they married
+“_ad libitum_.” So began that loosening up of the old bourgeois morals
+which culminated in the carnivals of the end of the fifteenth century
+and in the libertine muse of Lorenzo the Magnificent. All this meant an
+inspiring spectacle for the artist to record, and plenty of lavish
+patronage, but also it meant a disintegrating tendency for art. Painting
+is great in Florence in the measure that it escapes the mere
+expansiveness of the times and seeks discipline. As if to assert the
+permanency of the spirit of discipline, the very year that set Matteo
+Villani in despair, 1348, gave him also a chapter on the founding of the
+Studio, a school of higher learning which eventually became the
+University of Florence. And the course of art for most of the fifteenth
+century was to be a constant interplay and rivalry between the Florence
+of the tavern and race-course and the Florence of the Studio, with a
+final victory for the latter.
+
+Oddly enough, the new luxury and gayety and the new scholarship
+conspired to make the old painting inadequate. The panoramic style of
+the fourteenth century was too simple and unornate for the Frenchified
+Florentines; for the new generation of strenuous artists, it was too
+slight and unskilful. All the finer spirits at the beginning of the
+fifteenth century are malcontents. Their unrest expressed itself,
+according to temperament, in progress or reaction. The dominating artist
+of the moment was a reactionary, Don Lorenzo Monaco,[29] Camaldolese
+monk. Turning from the superficiality of the current Florentine style,
+he sought his corrective at Siena, his birthplace, in the decorative
+exquisiteness of Simone Martini and the narrative warmth and breadth of
+the Lorenzetti; and he imports these qualities into Florence in an art
+as aristocratic and retrospective as that of our own Pre-Raphaelites. In
+his hands Gothic painting takes a new and unwarranted lease of life. He
+is a brilliant colorist, a fastidious designer, an austere spirit. Even
+his great Sienese exemplars have hardly surpassed his masterpiece, the
+Coronation of the Virgin, in the Uffizi. It is dated 1413. In the
+richness of the Gothic frame, the profusion of small incidental figures,
+the festooning curves of the swaying saints and angels, and formal
+symmetry of arrangement, it well represents the most florid type of
+Gothic painting as developed at Siena. It is hard to realize that this
+lovely mediæval work was painted at the moment when Brunellesco and his
+friends were already turning sharply to nature and to the vision of
+Hellas. But Lorenzo was a cloistered man, and appropriately a votary of
+past perfections. His devout mood is best expressed in the gracious
+Annunciation, Figure 71, which has happily never left its original altar
+in the Church of the Trinità. Here Lorenzo follows the Lorenzettian
+canons of space. A girlish delicacy in the obedient Virgin is a new
+note, to be echoed more sweetly by Lorenzo’s best follower, Fra
+Angelico. Lorenzo died in 1425. Masaccio had already created the new
+style of painting, but for a couple of decades faithful disciples of Don
+Lorenzo carried on his style.
+
+A lover of Plutarchian parallels and contrasts would swiftly pass from
+Don Lorenzo Monaco to Masaccio. But one may better understand the new
+movement by taking first men who gradually and normally accepted the new
+knowledge. Such are Fra Angelico and Masolino, who began as Gothic
+painters and ended as Renaissance masters. They show us better the
+average drift of the times than does so revolutionary a figure as
+Masaccio.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 71. Lorenzo Monaco, Annunciation.—_Trinità._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 72. Fra Angelico. Annunciation and Adoration of the Magi.—_Museum
+    of S. Marco._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 73. Fra Angelico. Coronation of the Virgin.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Fra Angelico[30] was born in 1387 and at twenty entered the religious
+state as a Dominican at Fiesole. How soon Fra Giovanni, not yet
+nicknamed Angelico, became a painter we hardly know. But four little
+pictures designed to inclose in their frames relics of the saints may
+represent his beginnings. Three are at San Marco, Florence, one in Mrs.
+John L. Gardner’s collection at Boston. The Little Annunciation with an
+Adoration of the Magi, Figure 72, may represent the work. It is refined,
+tender, of jewel-like freshness of color, graceful in linear
+arrangement, at first sight wholly Sienese in inspiration, and directly
+dependent on Lorenzo Monaco. A kind of veracity under the richness of
+the expression marks the work as after all straightforward and
+Florentine. The date may be about 1425, Fra Angelico, being in his
+middle thirties, and in his art about a century behind the times. In his
+early Gothic manner he conceived some of his masterpieces, such as the
+Coronation of the Virgin, with its glimpse of a celestial cloud land;
+and the whimsically beautiful Last Judgment. Both are at the Museum of
+San Marco. One can believe the report of Vasari that each day Fra
+Angelico prayed before touching brush to such masterpieces. Such
+pictures have the hush and charm of a celestial dreamland, a meditative
+beauty quite un-Florentine.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 74. Fra Angelico. Madonna dei Linaiuoli. Originally an outdoor
+    tabernacle.—_Museum of S. Marco._
+]
+
+All the time Fra Angelico was placidly and intelligently studying the
+new realistic movement launched by Donatello and Masaccio. He adopts
+what suits him, rejecting heavy shadows which would dull his Gothic
+coloring, but adding freely realistic details in anatomy, drapery, and
+architecture. The Coronation of the Virgin in the Louvre, Figure 73,
+though it may be only a few months later than that of the Uffizi, no
+longer takes place in a cloudland before lucent gold, but in a quite
+practicable architecture imitating the niche which Michelozzo designed
+in 1423 for Donatello’s St. Louis of Toulouse. The forms too are more
+substantial, more mundane. Soon the architectural accessories become of
+Renaissance type, and as Mr. Langton Douglas has shown, every new
+invention of Michelozzo for a space of ten years is promptly reflected
+in the painting of Fra Angelico. His greatest Madonna, that of the Linen
+Guild, Figure 74, painted in 1433, is almost plastic, recalling the
+severe sweetness of Orcagna. The picture is really cumbered by the rich
+hangings, which with the slender swaying angels in the bevel of the
+frame are already an anachronism. In the Descent from the Cross, Figure
+75, we find Fra Angelico skilfully adopting the new discoveries in
+anatomy and landscape. The treatment is broad and panoramic in the
+tradition of the Lorenzetti but all the details are carefully studied
+from nature and not furnished by formula. A deeply felt scene thus gains
+verisimilitude, comes out of the realm of legend and becomes an
+actuality. The panel was finished in 1440, and, now that Masaccio was
+gone, there was no living painter who could have put into it with equal
+knowledge so much feeling.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 75. Fra Angelico. Deposition.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+The building of the great Dominican Convent of San Marco between 1437
+and 1444 opened to Fra Angelico his great opportunity. It was the gift
+of Cosimo de’ Medici, now unofficial ruler of Florence, who had his good
+reasons for wishing to assure the occasional repose of his busy soul in
+this world and its permanent repose in the next. He often sought
+seclusion in the convent and doubtless saw in progress the fifty or more
+frescoes that Fra Angelico made to adorn it. Fra Angelico was painting
+for deeply religious men, for scholars who had the Scriptures at their
+finger tips, and for this reason perhaps he rejects all smaller
+realisms, reducing his compositions to the mere figures. Thus the San
+Marco frescoes are more concise even than those of Giotto, and they
+reach at their best a simple sublimity as yet unattained in Italian art.
+Highly formal and decorative, they are free from consciously æsthetic
+taint. Sometimes I think Perugino learned much at San Marco and that we
+may thus regard Fra Angelico as indirectly a leading influence on
+Raphael. The sparse, effective method may be illustrated in the fresco
+set over the door of the guest quarters, the _Forestiera_. It represents
+a pilgrim Christ being received by Dominican brothers. Figure 76. In the
+stranger we entertain The Lord Himself is the simple lesson. The figures
+are set against a conventional blue background but are constructed with
+the authority of the new learning.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 76. Fra Angelico. Dominicans receive Christ as Pilgrim. Guest
+    house door.—_S. Marco._
+]
+
+In the Chapter House nearby Fra Angelico painted, about 1440, a great
+Crucifixion, Figure 77. The three laden crosses stand out sharply
+against a murky sky. The setting is a mere platform, on which the
+familiar forms of Mary and the beloved Apostles are almost lost in a
+throng of witnesses of every age. We have the Latin Fathers, and their
+successors—St. Dominic and St. Francis, among others. The arrangement is
+highly formal, the mood that of meditation; the sharper tragedy of the
+theme is not insisted on. The characterization of the saints is precise
+and fine, the drawing of their forms admirable. Had the composition been
+set against a Gothic, blue background, the mood would have seemed merely
+sentimental. What gives it, with all its abstractness, an almost
+sensational tang of reality is the arching sky, slaty above and an
+ominous orange behind the figures. The expedient brings an element of
+definite place and time of day for this rendezvous of saints at a
+mystically renewed Calvary.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 77. Fra Angelico. Mystical Crucification. Chapter House.—_S.
+    Marco._
+]
+
+In the cells of the convent, Fra Angelico and his helpers painted no
+less than forty-three frescoes. These were intended for the private
+devotions of the brother occupying the cell, and the subjects were
+probably chosen not by Fra Angelico himself, but by his cloister mates.
+The best are conceived like the frescoes of the lower story. The
+background is just a veiled sky, there are no accessories, the figures
+loom in an indefinite space. Majestic is the Transfiguration, Figure 78,
+very lovely the Coronation of the Virgin. The angelic painter draws the
+maximum effect from the simplest patterns and briefest means. There is
+the measured and simple dignity of the early Christian mosaics with a
+warmer and more personal feeling. Fra Angelico, when he wishes, can be
+elaborately realistic. He is so in the garden scene where the Risen
+Christ gently rebuffs the Magdalen, in the crowded Adoration of the
+Magi, which tradition assigns to Cosimo de’ Medici’s cell, and in the
+Annunciation, Figure 79, in the corridor with its graceful Renaissance
+_loggia_. In this more circumstantial vein, Fra Angelico is delightful,
+but I think below his best. In all the frescoes at S. Marco, however,
+Fra Angelico appears as a wholly Florentine figure with an art based at
+once on the study of nature and on an understanding admiration for the
+masterpieces of Giotto and Orcagna.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 78. Fra Angelico. Transfiguration, fresco in a cell at _S.
+    Marco_.
+]
+
+Something of his mediævalism, of his Sienese manner, persists in the
+numerous little predella panels, such as those telling delightfully the
+story of the doctor saints, Cosmo and Damian, and the series with the
+life of Christ which adorned the doors of the plate lockers of the
+Church of S. Marco. With their fully developed pictorialism, their
+careful regard for the minor realisms of setting, these little pictures
+are the prelude to his last phase at Rome. They are also the last
+Florentine pictures that observe those traditional iconographical forms
+which had persisted for four centuries.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 79. Fra Angelico. Annunciation. Fresco.—_San Marco._
+]
+
+Fra Angelico ever refused to make money or accept promotion, but became
+despite himself a celebrity. In 1445 he was ordered to Rome by Pope
+Eugenius IV. The frescoes which Fra Angelico then made in the Vatican
+are lost. There was an escape to Orvieto, where Fra Angelico painted
+half the vault of the Chapel of S. Brixio, which Signorelli was later to
+complete. Fra Angelico was peremptorily recalled to Rome in 1447 by the
+new Pope, Nicholas V, who was planning a new chapel in the Vatican. We
+see it today still radiant with the legends of St. Stephen and St.
+Lawrence that Fra Angelico thoughtfully composed more than four hundred
+years ago. Modern critics have generally agreed in finding Fra
+Angelico’s masterpieces in this chapel. If they mean his fullest display
+of knowledge, the opinion is incontestible. Nowhere else has Fra
+Angelico invented such complications of architecture, interiors, street
+perspectives; nowhere has he drawn better figures in greater variety.
+Such frescoes as the lunette with St. Stephen defending himself before
+the Jewish doctors and preaching to the people, Figure 80, or that
+depicting St. Lawrence giving alms to cripples and poor folk before a
+basilica, are learned and rich. But does not their very richness obscure
+both the decorative and emotional appeal? Personally I tend to lose the
+figures in the complexity of the setting. Any of Fra Angelico’s little
+predellas tells its story more feelingly and clearly, and no less ably.
+Under the pressure of competition at Rome, Fra Angelico for the first
+time is ostentatious. To please the Pope he revives in more specious
+form the trivialities of the old panoramic style. Had he grasped
+Masaccio’s invention of aerial perspective and construction in light and
+dark, Fra Angelico might have carried off his elaborate settings
+successfully. As it is, they confuse the eye by too many linear
+elements, and only mildly delight the mind. Even the sensitive mood of
+legend, which is noteworthy in these frescoes, is better represented in
+the smaller panels. In fairness of Gothic fresco coloring, however, they
+are unsurpassed.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 80. Fra Angelico. St. Stephen Preaching, the Saint before the
+    Council. Fresco.—_Chapel of Nicholas V., Vatican._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 81. Masolino. Annunciation.—_Henry Goldman, Esq. New York._
+]
+
+From the point of view of tendency, these frescoes are profoundly
+instructive. They show the irresistible drift towards the formation of a
+new panoramic style, a drift that even Fra Angelico, cloistered saint
+and exquisite self-critic, was unable to escape. In spite of his record
+and better knowledge, he becomes an inaugurator of that picturesque,
+undisciplined, and decentralized manner of narrative which was to be
+represented by Ghirlandaio, Botticelli, and their contemporaries.
+
+In his later years Fra Angelico declined the archbishopric of Florence
+and died at Rome in 1455. The tombstone which shows the emaciation of
+his perishable form is in the Roman Church of the Minerva; his
+imperishable monument is his frescoed convent home of S. Marco at
+Florence.
+
+Of the traditional artists Fra Angelico is by far the most important,
+but his contemporary Masolino of Panicale must be considered, partly
+because tradition makes him the master of Masaccio, partly because of
+the problems which cluster about his work. The picture which is here
+drawn of him represents my own investigations, and differs at several
+points from the views of Berenson and Toesca. If we judge Masolino only
+by the work that is unquestionably his, he is not an impressive figure.
+He inherits the grace of the late Gothic style, and he adds rather
+partially and inconsequentially the new discoveries in anatomy and
+linear perspective. Chance took him away from the centre of things,
+Florence. He worked mostly in Lombardy, distant Hungary, provincial
+Tuscany, and Rome. He has industry and charm, but nowhere shows much
+intelligence. On the whole he is a poorer story-teller than his Gothic
+predecessors, and only their fair equal in panel painting. Had Vasari
+not ascribed to him, I believe erroneously, the early miracles of St.
+Peter in the Church of The Carmine, at Florence, the general historian
+of art would need to pay little attention to Masolino. But he has been
+entangled in one of the most important of artistic problems, that of
+Masaccio, so we cannot ignore him.
+
+Masolino[31] was born in 1384, and, according to Vasari, was trained by
+the mysterious Starnina. We have no very early works to show his
+progress, and it is merely a good guess that the radiant Annunciation,
+Figure 81, in the possession of Mr. Henry Goldman, New York, may be
+considerably earlier than 1420. It shows the gentleness and animation
+which are constant in Masolino. It combines the Sienese calligraphic
+manner with those smaller realisms of inscenation which ultimately
+derive from Duccio. It has coloristic audacities of its own in the
+spotting of brightest vermillion. It gives small hint of the
+Renaissance. At a later date than 1420, by which time ordinary
+perspective began to be understood, I doubt if Masolino would have
+indulged in that preposterous and unnecessary central pillar which
+starts above in middle distance and ends below in the picture plane. A
+Madonna at Bremen, dated 1423, shows him still as Gothic as Lorenzo
+Monaco, who indeed seems to have influenced him dominatingly.
+
+In this same year, it is likely that he painted the frescoes in the
+Collegiate Church at Castiglione d’Olona, a lovely village at the foot
+of the Alps. Masolino had to deal with refractory spaces, the narrow
+triangular sectors of the apse. This has caused elongation of the
+figures and piling up of fantastic architecture merely to fill the
+spaces. The mood is gentle and graceful, the treatment quite Gothic.
+These six stories of the Virgin must have satisfied Masolino’s humanist
+patron, Cardinal Branda Castiglione; for several years later he
+re-employed the painter to decorate the adjoining Baptistery. Masolino
+at forty, in the Collegiate Church, was still completely Gothic. If we
+may believe Vasari, at that age he suddenly mastered the new style. Only
+on such a theory can he have painted the Adam and Eve and the St. Peter
+reviving Tabitha, in the Brancacci Chapel, which are in the new
+chiaroscuro technic. Since Masolino, years after the time when he was
+working in that chapel, is still incompletely modern as regards light
+and shade, it is easier to suppose that what he actually painted in the
+Brancacci Chapel, about 1424, was merely the vault and the three
+lunettes, which have since been destroyed. Thus all the frescoes now
+visible in this famous chapel would be by Masaccio or his continuer,
+Filippino Lippi. Such was the view of the excellent critic Cavalcaselle
+more than fifty years ago. However that be, Masolino by 1427 was at Buda
+(now Budapest), where he worked for that extraordinary Florentine exile
+and soldier of fortune, Pippo Spano. After that trip, we hear no more of
+Masolino at Florence—rather oddly, since the Brancacci Chapel, which he
+had begun, still had three unpictured spaces after Masaccio’s death in
+1428. Apparently the Brancacci family did not consider Masolino
+competent to complete the work he had begun. If so, they were wise.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 82. Masolino. Baptism of Christ, detail of fresco.—_Baptistery,
+    Castiglione d’Olona._
+]
+
+We next find Masolino, after an interval of more than ten years,
+decorating the Baptistery at Castiglione d’Olona for his old patron,
+Cardinal Branda. The date is 1435. By this time Masolino had learned a
+good deal, but had hardly assimilated his new attainments. Whether as
+decoration or as story-telling, the stories of St. John the Baptist are
+at once confused and pretentious, with little to recommend them save the
+loveliness of their Gothic color, the prettiness of the heads, and
+certain vivacious and well-observed gestures. In the great fresco of the
+Baptism of Christ, Figure 82, the incidental nudes are so carefully
+anatomized that they distract from the general effect, while the deep
+river valley unhappily draws the eye away from the figures in the
+foreground. A similarly pictorially inept use of foreshortened
+Renaissance colonnades appears in the opposite fresco depicting the
+Feast of Herod and the delivery of the head of St. John to Herodias. If
+it were not for the physical discomfort of travelling to the end of
+those interminable colonnades and returning to note what is happening
+nearby in them, these stories themselves would seem vivacious and
+well-conceived, the female heads attractive, the color gay and pleasing.
+The method of composition is still Lorenzettian and the modern
+architectural features inorganic.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 83. Masolino. St. Catherine disputing with the Pagan Doctors.
+    Fresco.—_S. Clemente, Rome._
+]
+
+A few years later Masolino was swept to Rome by the great wave of
+rebuilding and redecorating which accompanied Pope Martin V’s return
+from Avignon. There in the Chapel of the Sacrament, in the venerable
+Basilica of S. Clemente, which had formerly been Cardinal Branda’s
+titular Church, Masolino achieved his maturest work. Completely
+repainted, we may still see the legends of St. Catherine, and a finely
+theatrical Calvary by Masolino, and as well legends of St. Ambrose by a
+follower of Masaccio. Here Masolino’s gift as a story-teller is at its
+best. He has learned to subordinate his accessories, and the childlike
+character of his themes enlists his talent in its most engaging aspect.
+Such a fresco as St. Catherine urging the mysteries of the faith before
+the Roman doctors, Figure 83, is well-felt and skilfully composed, and
+withal most flimsily drawn. It is incredible that a man who could do the
+Tabitha in the Brancacci Chapel at forty should have relapsed to this
+level at fifty-five. The evidence of the armor[32] worn by the horsemen
+in the Calvary proves that that fresco, and presumably the entire
+decoration of the chapel, cannot be earlier than 1440, while of course
+it cannot be later than Masolino’s own death in 1447.
+
+To this later period belongs, I believe, the diptych at Naples which
+represents two themes rare in early Florentine painting, the Assumption
+of the Virgin, and the Miracle of the Snow, Figure 84. The latter scene
+shows Pope Liberius tracing the foundations of the Basilica of Santa
+Maria Maggiore which were indicated by a miraculous snow-fall in
+midsummer. It is delightful as story-telling, and some of the minor
+figures are entrancing, as is the landscape. Since Michelangelo and
+Giorgio Vasari once admired this picture together at Rome, we should not
+grudge it our admiration. Nor should we fail to note the curious defects
+in construction. The heads of the attendant figures are set on the
+shoulders like a ball on a post. You could blow any of these heads off
+without overtaxing your lungs. The picture shows the utmost of which
+Masolino was capable. It reveals him as lightly touched by the new
+learning and faithful to the old panoramic ideals of narrative which had
+come down from Taddeo Gaddi and the Lorenzetti.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 84. Masolino. Pope Liberius tracing the snow-marked plan of Santa
+    Maria Maggiore.—_Naples._
+]
+
+Logically we should next consider Masaccio, but first we may well give
+an eye to a minor sort of narrative painting which worked in the
+direction of contemporary realism. This was domestic painting as
+distinguished from ecclesiastical or civic.[33] In a prosperous
+Florentine home the chest was the most important article of furniture.
+In the fifteenth century its front was pictured with races, pageants,
+feasts, battles, or the new themes from classical mythology. Every
+patrician bride normally received two such painted cassoni to contain
+her trousseau. For example,[34] Giovanna di Filippo Aldobrandini when
+she married Tommaso di Berto Fini, in 1418, received two bride chests
+depicting the races on St. John’s day. A complete chest in the Bargello,
+Florence, shows the riders carrying to the Baptistery the _palii_, or
+lengths of brocade which were the prizes. The front panel of the
+companion chest is in the Holden Collection, at Cleveland, and
+commemorates with extraordinary vivacity and fidelity the race itself,
+Figure 85. The winner is just preparing to touch the _palio_ which hangs
+from the ceremonial car at the finish. Jesters, policemen, eager women,
+and impatient urchins who pelt the losers make up a remarkable picture
+of contemporary customs. Besides the pictured chests, a well appointed
+room had at the height of a sitter’s shoulder similar but larger panels
+which were called _Spalliere_. And still higher there was, on a still
+larger scale, what were called cornice panels. These too were
+contemporary or mythological in subject matter. Where many a room thus
+had three courses of pictures from the floor to the ceiling there was
+abundant opportunity for the narrative painter and remarkable stimulus
+to invention. The richness and complexity of this household decoration
+doubtless influenced all narrative painting, making for the
+sprightliness which dominates the end of the century.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 85. School of Uccello. A Horse Race. Detail from a _Cassone_
+    Front.—_Cleveland, O._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 86. Masaccio. Birth of St. John Baptist.—_Desco da Parto.
+    Berlin._
+]
+
+Besides these chest and wall panels, pictured salvers were prepared to
+celebrate the birth of a patrician child. Such wooden salvers were used
+to convey the congratulatory gifts which were offered with appalling
+promptness to every young mother. These _Deschi da parto_, or birth
+plates, as the Italians called them, bore pictures alluding either to
+love and beauty or to childbirth. One of the earlier mythological
+salvers is in the Bargello and represents the Judgment of Paris. As yet
+the artist is not sufficiently audacious to display the goddesses in
+classical nudity. The most famous of all birth-plates may serve as our
+introduction to the greatest artist of the first half of the century,
+Masaccio. It is in the Berlin Museum, the subject is the Birth of St.
+John the Baptist, Figure 86, and the date should be about 1422. In the
+excellent proportions of the Renaissance portico, in the gravity and
+mass of the figures, it shows the beginnings of a new and more truthful
+style, based not on previous artistic formulas but on direct and
+masterful observation of nature. Mr. Berenson justly calls it “a little
+giant of a picture.”
+
+Masaccio[35] was born December 21, 1401, at San Giovanni up the Arno.
+His real name was Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Tommaso Guidi. And the
+slightly slurring character of his nickname was apparently given for
+absent-mindedness, untidiness, and a certain clumsiness of person.
+Tradition as late as Vasari declared that Masaccio lived in a world of
+intense speculation concerning his art. Contemporary tax-returns show
+that he died deeply in debt and that he never really knew how much he
+owed. Tradition again insists that he never troubled to collect payments
+due him unless his need of money were extreme.
+
+All the same he was one of the most original minds of all ages, and on
+the formal side, one of the most revolutionary. He came to Florence
+early, probably learned his elements under Masolino, but really drew
+more from the sculptor naturalists of Donatello’s sort. In particular he
+frequented the surly architect Brunellesco and from him learned the new
+art of perspective. January 7, 1422, being twenty-one years old,
+Masaccio was matriculated in the Druggists’ Guild as a licensed painter.
+By this time he surely had made his great discovery and taken his great
+decision. Reviewing the painting of his contemporaries and predecessors,
+he judged that it was all based on unnatural conventions. We can imagine
+him in the Spanish Chapel viewing the carefully charted and contoured
+and colored groups, and saying impatiently “things don’t look like
+that.” And in truth the older painting at its best was a select
+inventory or formal description of what the artist saw, and not a
+representation. One can imagine Masaccio exclaiming, as Francisco Goya
+was to do more than three centuries later, “Lines, always lines, I don’t
+see them in nature.” And, as a matter of fact, there are no lines in
+nature, just the meeting of areas variously colored and lighted,
+contrasts of tone which the eye instantaneously interprets as form.
+
+Young Masaccio, then, makes the radical innovation that the brush should
+work according to nature’s laws, distributing color and light and dark
+so as to give the swiftest and truest representation of mass and
+distance. Besides functional light and shade, Masaccio introduced into
+painting the idea of aerial perspective. He saw that distant objects
+diminished not merely in size but also in definition. He felt the air as
+a palpable veil between the object and the eye, and he painted not
+simply the object but, as well, its veil. By a swift impulse of sheer
+genius this moody lad fixed ideals of naturalistic painting which were
+to remain until yesterday and the Impressionists. In fundamental
+principles Velasquez marks no great advance on Masaccio.
+
+It is only in fresco painting that Masaccio fully reveals his powers. So
+passing with mere mention such panels as The Healing of a Demoniac, in
+the John G. Johnson Collection, Philadelphia, the widely scattered parts
+of the altar-piece for the Carmelites at Pisa, dated 1426, and the grim
+Madonna with St. Ann in the Uffizi, the student will best turn directly
+to the Carmelite Church at Florence and enter that sanctuary of art, the
+Chapel of the Brancacci. The Church itself was dedicated April 19, 1422.
+Shortly after that date, young Masaccio did in fresco the dedicatory
+procession with many portraits. Its realism produced a profound
+impression. Nevertheless it was heedlessly destroyed after a century or
+so. By 1424, according to all probability, Masaccio was associated with
+Masolino in the decoration of the Brancacci Chapel. It was dedicated to
+St. Peter, and the prescribed subjects were drawn from the “Acts of the
+Apostles” and “The Golden Legend.” The vaults which contained the four
+evangelists and the three lunettes, which depicted The Calling of Peter
+and Andrew, the Tempest-tossed Ship of the Apostles on Galilee, and
+Peter denying his Lord, were by Masolino. Unhappily these upper frescoes
+have been destroyed. The Chapel now has only two rows of frescoes in
+twelve pictures. Of these three and a part of a fourth, all in the lower
+row, are certainly by Filippino Lippi, who about 1484 completed the
+chapel, probably with the aid of Masaccio’s designs. Three in the upper
+row, are ascribed by many critics to Masolino. According to this view,
+which is largely based on the opinion of Vasari, Masaccio would be
+responsible for only five pictures and most of a sixth. Other critics,
+whose views I share, believe that Masaccio painted eight of the pictures
+and most of a ninth. The difference of opinion, then, concerns three
+pictures which many think unworthy of Masaccio’s genius. The problem
+cannot be fully debated here. The grounds of my opinion, which was that
+of the great Italian critic Cavalcaselle, will appear as we review the
+frescoes themselves.
+
+In general color effect these frescoes are strangely unlike their Gothic
+predecessors. They have nothing of the flower-bed gayety of the Spanish
+Chapel, of Lorenzo Monaco, or of Masolino elsewhere. The effect is of a
+very rich smokiness, a kind of monochrome from which only subdued colors
+emerge. Yellow-browns and silvery grays predominate. There are no hard
+contours. The relief is salient, but one form blends insensibly into
+another. The edges of the figures are established not by lines but by
+contrast of values, the contour is often completely lost. The strong
+assertion of light and dark in a few structural planes builds out the
+forms from an investing shadow. Indeed the whole chapel recalls not the
+Gothic fresco painters, but such far later artists as Velasquez,
+Rembrandt, or even Whistler. The method of the painter, whoever he was,
+is completely modern, and uniform throughout the chapel. He sacrifices
+minute definition to generalizations for mass; and color, to emphatic
+construction in light and shade. To obtain relief in the figures and
+distance in the backgrounds is the main concern. It is in intention a
+luminist art and a modelling art. The procedure is nearly uniform
+throughout the Brancacci Chapel, though it grows abler from fresco to
+fresco. It is a method that Masolino never commanded, not at Castiglione
+d’Olona ten years later, nor still ten years later at San Clemente,
+Rome. Hence I can only believe that the admitted inequalities in the
+Brancacci Chapel merely represent the swift development of Masaccio’s
+genius, and certain interruptions in the work itself.
+
+The first fresco, in the nave alongside, the entrance of the chapel,
+depicts our first parents at the moment of the Temptation in the Garden
+of Eden, Figure 87. It is stilted and awkward, yet withal dignified. The
+theme, which indeed has seldom been a happy one for any artist, has not
+greatly interested the painter. He has made it an occasion for studying
+the nude. We have what the modern student calls an academy. As such, it
+is able. The construction is highly simplified and is wholly in masses
+of light and dark, the contour is freely effaced. The mystery of
+background foliage is well suggested, the placing of the head of the
+serpent between the tree and the figures is a perfect example of the new
+art of aerial perspective. No painter but Masaccio had even the notion
+of such an effect at this moment. Technically the handling of this
+detail is just the same as that of the vastly more beautiful angel in
+the Expulsion from Eden, Figure 91. Finally, the impassive mask of the
+Eve is identical with that of the Virgin, in Masaccio’s panel in the
+Uffizi. We presumably have to do with an experimental phase of Masaccio
+about the year 1423–5. About that time Masolino probably was called to
+Buda to work for the extraordinary Florentine soldier of fortune,
+Filippo Scolari, better known by his nickname of Pippo Spano. If Vasari
+is right, Masaccio had been required to prove his ability to continue
+the work by painting a St. Paul near the bell-cord of the Church, in
+competition with a St. Jerome by Masolino. Both are lost.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 87. Masaccio. The Temptation.—_Brancacci Chapel._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 91. Masaccio. The Expulsion.—_Brancacci Chapel._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 88. Masaccio. St. Peter raising Tabitha and healing the
+    Cripple.—_Brancacci Chapel._
+]
+
+However that be, Masaccio probably succeeded to the work in 1425, his
+twenty-fourth year, and the next fresco after the Adam and Eve may well
+have been the adjoining subjects of Peter raising Tabitha from the Dead
+and healing a Cripple, Figure 88. As a whole the composition is somewhat
+marred by inadvertences and afterthoughts. It shows the influence of
+Masolino in the trite and conventional gestures of the mourners about
+the bier, and in certain strained facial expressions, notably that of
+the turbaned bystander. Such survivals are precisely what one would
+expect in a young painter just emancipated from his master. The entirely
+Masolino-like pair of strollers in the centre seem to be due to an
+afterthought. The first intention is registered in the unnaturally
+straight back of St. Peter’s companion, in the centre. The fresco was
+apparently to have been cut into two compartments by a pilaster at that
+point.[36] When the plan was abandoned in favor of putting two episodes
+in one space, the two unrelated figures had to be added to fill space
+and provide a transition. One is a little ashamed of pointing out small
+defects in what in all essentials is a noble and impassioned work.
+Technically there is nothing better in the Chapel than the establishing
+of the city background. It has scale, admirable atmospheric placing,
+dignity and pictorial significance. How anybody who knows Masolino’s
+niggling and haphazard treatment of such architectural features at
+Castiglione d’Olona can imagine that he had earlier created this
+grandiose setting remains a mystery to me. Even more remarkable are the
+gravity and grandeur of the Peter and the Tabitha. Here we are reminded
+of Giotto. Masaccio must often have pored over the Stories of St. John
+in Santa Croce, and while he by no means adopted Giotto’s shorthand
+indications for mass, he did adopt Giotto’s sense for classic dignity,
+beautifully calculated order, and moderation. As we continue through
+these remarkable frescoes we shall see continually that the quite
+ruthless innovator that was Masaccio was also a reverent traditionalist.
+The particular form of his art was settled between nature and himself,
+as Leonardo da Vinci later justly observed; the spirit of his art
+derived mostly from Giotto. It was highly important for the whole
+ongoing of art in Italy that so revolutionary a spirit was tempered by
+the finest respect for the great classic tradition. And in this great
+fresco of St. Peter’s miracles one may see how a quite homely and
+drastic realism can be invested with abstract power and dignity. How
+different it all is from the small and often charming vivacity which
+Masolino displays at Castiglione d’Olona and at Rome.
+
+Like the Temptation, the Tabitha is more linear and colorful than the
+other frescoes of the Chapel. The painter has not quite mastered the
+radically new method of construction in light and shade. Thus there is a
+technical break between the Tabitha and the frescoes on the back wall,
+which are in a more developed manner. We may assume an interruption in
+the work. Indeed we need not assume it, for records prove that for most
+of the year 1426 Masaccio was occupied with the great altar-piece for
+the Carmelites at Pisa. On October 15, 1426, Masaccio solemnly engaged
+not to do any other work until the altar-piece should be finished. We
+may believe then that the work in the Brancacci Chapel was taken up anew
+towards 1427.
+
+The four frescoes on the back wall, which are divided into two groups by
+the window, are the first of the new work. Of these the most remarkable
+is St. Peter Baptizing, Figure 89. The drawing is magnificent. Light and
+dark, without aid of the line, create so many bosses and pits which not
+merely establish form but suggest the gravest emotions. A few well
+chosen and well placed figures give the sense of a multitude. Mountains
+tower in gigantic scale, one feels the run of the little river from its
+distant source amid high ravines. The simplest modulations of light and
+dark, so many sweeps of a broad brush, establish the constructional
+planes of the figures and the mountains. All the early Italian writers
+mark with wondering admiration the expressiveness of the shivering man
+waiting his turn at the left. It is the smallest merit of the picture.
+Masaccio in this great composition commands a homely and impressive
+majesty, and therein shows himself true successor of Giotto, but he also
+reveals a power of synthesis entirely modern and hardly excelled since
+his day. One has only to turn to Masolino’s Baptism at Castiglione
+d’Olona, Figure 82, with its niggling insistence on details, to
+appreciate the gulf between the master and the pupil.
+
+Across the window from Masaccio’s Baptism is St. Peter Preaching. The
+same towering, mountain background is used. The somewhat linear
+treatment of the faces has led Mr. Berenson, with other critics, to
+ascribe this fresco to Masolino. It seems to me merely less strenuously
+seen, because the subject offers little inspiration. Masaccio has lent
+the theme real dignity, and, in the eager face of the nun at the front
+of the audience achieves an unusual sweetness. Technically there are
+good but not compelling reasons for supposing this fresco may have been
+done among the first, about 1425.
+
+The lower scenes at the back of the Chapel are, at your right, St. Peter
+healing the Sick, by the mere fall of his shadow and, at the left, St.
+Peter giving Alms. In both cases we have Florentine street scenes with a
+classic air lent by the solemn figures of the apostles. We feel the
+figures as far or near, and the air that veils them. There is great
+intentness in the poor folk, and a rugged impersonality in St. Peter and
+St. James. They are not indulging personal compassion so much as
+fulfilling a divine mission. Again the combination of a drastic realism
+with a stylistic majesty is what makes these frescoes unique. They
+contain vivid portraits, among these the traditional portrait of
+Masolino, a gentle, heavy, middle-aged face, bearded, and crowned with a
+sort of tuque—just the man to have conceived the charming but loosely
+organized compositions at Castiglione d’Olona.
+
+What Masaccio looked like we may see in the upper fresco on the right
+wall. He is the alert and determined figure impersonating St. Thomas, at
+the left of the group. The story of the Tribute Money, Figure 90, is one
+of the grandest creations of European art. If, as Leonardo da Vinci
+asserts, the highest task of painting is to show by the pose and
+gestures of the body the emotions of the soul, this is one of the
+greatest paintings. It is remarkable for the dignity lent to an
+apparently unpromising theme. The story is simply that Christ is
+required to pay the _denarius_ when there is no money in the company. By
+a miracle Peter finds the coin in the mouth of a fish and pays it to the
+tax-gatherer. How the creative imagination has magnified this slender
+theme! Masaccio has formed a group of potent and formidable individuals,
+these simple men are fit to shake a world. He has shown them in a moment
+in which discouragement and determination blend. A technicality
+threatens to check the salvation of the world. He has discriminated
+between the assured authority of the Christ and the wrathful energy of
+St. Peter. He has invested the majestic forms with massive draperies
+grandly disposed in simple folds. He has given even the tax-gatherer the
+grace of a Roman athlete. Finally he has set the austere company before
+a noble river plain upon which press the slopes of lofty mountains,
+while the undulating crest of a remoter range almost bars off the sky.
+All objects, human and inanimate, bear firmly on the ground and are
+wrapped in an enveloping atmosphere. In the quality and arrangement of
+the figures, it all derives from Giotto; in the vastness of the scale,
+the introduction of mystery and distance, it is wholly Masaccio’s own.
+Vasari rightly praised the harmony and discretion with which these
+powerful assertions of form are made, and sees here the beginnings of
+the modern style of painting.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 90. Masaccio. The Tribute Money.—_Brancacci Chapel._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 89. Masaccio. St. Peter Baptizing.—_Brancacci Chapel._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 92. Masaccio. The Trinity, Fresco.—_Santa Maria Novella._
+]
+
+The organizing power of Masaccio is at its height in the Tribute Money.
+His emotional intensity is fully involved only in the Expulsion from
+Eden, Figure 91, the adjoining fresco in the nave of the church. Before
+the sword of a serenely inexorable angel, Adam and Eve stalk forth into
+the unknown. Their bodies cringe as they move, with shame and grief. An
+ominous light reduces their bodies to so many pits of shadow and bosses
+of light. Drawing of such accurate economy will only rarely reappear in
+the world, in Leonardo da Vinci, in Rembrandt, in Honoré Daumier. The
+desperate emotion is well contained within the oblong, in a monumental
+balance. Remorse in the two first sinners has its shades. The man’s head
+is pressed into his hands in an attempt at restraint, while Eve’s is
+thrown back in anguished ululation. The high emotional pressure is new,
+and symptomatic, and significantly it is contained within monumental
+bounds. The Italian Renaissance in its striving for expressiveness will
+rarely fail to keep expression noble. The ingrained classicism of the
+Florentine point of view is never more favorably represented than in a
+subject like this which seeks a maximum emotion on terms of order and
+lucidity.
+
+What remains of Masaccio is in a sense anti-climax. Very stately is the
+fresco in this chapel, of the Resurrection of the Prince of Tyre and St.
+Peter enthroned. The beauty is that of fine arrangement and
+characterization. The graceful nude boy and about ten distinguished
+figures behind him were added to the composition, presumably from
+Masaccio’s designs, full fifty years later. They are the work of
+Filippino Lippi, who also added some portraits at the left of this
+fresco. He also filled the three unpainted panels, in an excellent
+imitation of Masaccio’s style. Evidently Masaccio was called rather
+abruptly to his last sojourn at Rome. For the fresco of the Raising of
+the Boy could have been finished in a fortnight.
+
+I have omitted a fine fresco of a Pietà in the Collegiate Church at
+Empoli, though I believe it to be a splendid example of Masaccio’s early
+style, and I can only mention for its magnificent architectural setting
+in Brunellesco’s new style the fresco of the Trinity in Santa Maria
+Novella, Figure 92. It is of his latest manner and of extraordinary
+gravity and mass.
+
+In 1428, being only twenty-six years old, Masaccio drops out of sight at
+Rome. Some report that he was poisoned, others that he was slain in a
+street brawl. We really know nothing about it. What we do know is that
+in the recorded history of art no painter had achieved so greatly in so
+short a time. Within six short years Masaccio created that method of
+painting which stood uncontested till the advent of luminism only forty
+years ago. And he not merely illustrated the method of construction in
+light and dark, painting in atmospheric values rather than in lines and
+charted areas, but he also expressed in the new technic both the noblest
+traditional emotions as also poignant new emotions quite his own. In one
+superb aggressive he had moved three generations into the future. For a
+hundred years the most intelligent and ambitious artists in Florence as
+a matter of course studied and copied in the Brancacci Chapel to form
+their style. Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo,
+Raphael, Andrea del Sarto thus paid homage to the untidy youth from
+Castel San Giovanni, and even the iconoclasts of today, for whom
+Leonardo da Vinci and his peers are scarcely artists at all, envy the
+gravity and force of Masaccio. He is the real father of modern painting,
+which is most true to itself when it tempers an ardent curiosity as
+regards natural appearances with a respect for the great traditions of
+moderation and taste.
+
+Masaccio’s successors, very wisely, did not closely imitate him. They
+saw he was an unsafe and unapproachable model. By a swift impulse of
+genius, and apparently without analytical study of anatomy and
+topography, he had mastered the broad effects that register form.
+Details he neglected. He gives the action of hands and feet, not their
+articulations, the scale of landscape and not its component parts. For
+men of lesser genius, these short-cuts were dangerous. While using
+Masaccio as inspiration, they had to verify his discoveries through
+analytical studies before those innovations could become generally
+available. The process of verification and minute research occupied
+about fifty years and may be said to be complete with the maturity of
+Leonardo da Vinci, say about the date of The Last Supper, 1498.
+
+The successors of Masaccio may be divided into two groups as they
+quietly adopted and popularized the immediately available part of his
+discoveries, or strenuously carried his work forward. To the moderate
+progressive group belong Fra Filippo Lippi and Benozzo Gozzoli, and
+still later Ghirlandaio; the experimentalists are birds of quite a
+different feather.
+
+These Florentine realists may be divided into two generations. The first
+asserts itself before the middle of the fifteenth century, and is
+trained chiefly under the influence of such sculptors as Donatello,
+Brunellesco and Ghiberti. These painters work at the problem of light
+and shade, anatomy, and perspective, accepting in their art the guidance
+of sculpture. The second generation of realists come to their own after
+the middle of the century, are mostly trained as silversmiths, and work
+at the new technic of oil painting, at landscape and at the figure in
+action. Both groups relatively neglected the important matter of
+composition. Most of the realists sacrificed pictorial effect the better
+to master detail, but they also accumulated that vast body of knowledge
+upon which rests the glory of the High Renaissance, and nobody can
+understand the progress of Florentine painting without following
+sympathetically their great effort.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 93. Paolo Uccello. Battle of Cavalry.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Of the first generation, the quaintest figure is Paolo Uccello. Born in
+1397, he soon gave himself fanatically to the study of the new science
+of perspective, especially to feats of foreshortening. His pictures are
+so many experiments and have a petrified inertness. Yet at his best he
+commands dignity and a considerable decorative power. About the year
+1435 he painted for the Medici palace several battle scenes, three of
+which are respectively in the Louvre, Figure 93, National Gallery and
+Uffizi. The last, representing the Florentine victory of San Romano,
+shows the style. The forms are squared, in a fashion anticipating modern
+Cubism, in order to simplify the problem of placing and foreshortening.
+Corpses and lances are deliberately pointed at the spectator to offer so
+many problems in perspective. The landscape is minute and topographical.
+The decorative coloring is bold and original with interesting
+dissonances of oranges, russets, and greens. It is quite splendid after
+the unreal fashion of a tapestry.
+
+Paolo’s masterpiece is the equestrian portrait of Sir John Hawkwood,
+Figure 94, the English soldier of fortune and occasional captain of the
+Florentine army, which is in the Cathedral. It is painted in gray-green
+touched with color, and simulates a tomb. The date is 1437. Since Roman
+times no equestrian monument of equal dignity had been created, and one
+is inclined to suspect that Uccello profited by preliminary studies of
+Donatello, his close friend, which later developed into the superb
+Gattamelata statue at Padua. Uccello has a lighter vein illustrated by
+furniture panels at Oxford, (a Hunt), at Paris, and Vienna, (St. George
+and the Dragon), but his most ambitious work is the decoration of the
+lunettes in the great cloister of Santa Maria Novella. The stories are
+drawn from the Old Testament, were started by Paolo, about the year
+1446, and continued by several assistants. The medium was gray-green,
+_terra verde_, and the place accordingly is called the Green Cloister.
+Uccello’s manner may be best sensed in the fresco of the Deluge, in
+which the endeavor to set problems in perspective clashes unhappily with
+the desire to present a scene of terror. The figures are felt one at a
+time, there is little relation between them, and the picture has small
+merit apart from its probity in the rendering of details and a sort of
+abstract earnestness.
+
+Uccello lived on till 1475, an indulged eccentric, ignored by the public
+and ridiculed by his greater friends. His zeal for perspective was
+unabated with age, and many a night his much-tried wife lost sleep as he
+murmured in the small hours—“O! thou dear perspective!”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 94. Paolo Uccello. Tomb Portrait of Sir John
+    Hawkwood.—_Cathedral._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 96. Andrea del Castagno. Portrait of a young man.—_J. P. Morgan
+    Coll., N. Y._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 95. Andrea del Castagno. Pippo Spano.—_Sant’ Apollonia._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 97. Andrea del Castagno. Tomb portrait of Niccolò da
+    Tolentino.—_Cathedral._
+]
+
+Far the most powerful of these early realists is Andrea del
+Castagno.[37] His aggressive and truculent forms savor of Donatello
+without Donatello’s fineness. He searches the secrets of anatomy,
+locates and describes the muscles and sinews, depicts a world ruled by
+force of arm. Although he builds in heavy shadows, after Masaccio’s
+fashion, he retains an outline that vibrates with nervous strength. His
+truthful sternness still wins approbation. He was born about 1390. We
+meet him first in full maturity, perhaps about the year 1435, as
+decorator of the Villa of the Pandolfini. To strengthen the ambition of
+that proud race, he painted in their great hall nine figures of heroes
+and heroines noted in war or in the arts. Recently transferred to the
+Convent of Sant’ Apollonia, which already had a Last Supper and a
+Calvary by Andrea, you may see the austere forms of Dante, Petrarch, and
+Boccaccio, of Esther, Queen Thomyris and the Cumean Sibyl, of the
+warrior Farinata degli Uberti, Niccolò Accaiuoli, and Filippo Scolari.
+This potent and melancholy figure of Pippo Spano, Figure 95, whom we
+already know as the patron of Masolino, at Buda, is the most striking
+representation that painting has given us of those masterful Italian
+soldiers of fortune who managed war and government for the less advanced
+nations. Pippo Spano had gone to Buda as a clerk and had quickly become
+a generalissimo, Obergespann of Temesvár. For King Sigismund of Hungary
+he stemmed the Turkish onslaught, did much to save Central Europe for
+Christianity. As he stands thoughtfully confident, holding the scimitar,
+the weapon of his foes, he is the beau ideal of that Italy soon to be
+immortalized by Machiavelli, in which virtue meant successful force, and
+both were on sale. A man’s portrait, Figure 96, in the collection of Mr.
+J. P. Morgan, New York, has an even more sinister intensity. Equally
+remarkable for its heroic aggressiveness in the young David adorning a
+tournament shield in the Widener Collection, Figure 70.
+
+In the fresco of the Crucifixion, now in the Uffizi, Andrea reveals
+great knowledge linked to tragic expressiveness. No tenderness veils the
+appalling theme. An athlete suffers stoically while his mother and
+cousin shudder with grief. Of its ruthless kind it is a great
+masterpiece and quite unforgettable.
+
+In 1456 Andrea painted for the Cathedral the equestrian portrait of the
+partisan leader, Niccolò da Tolentino, Figure 97. It is a companion
+piece to Uccello’s Hawkwood, and like it simulates statuary, in
+monochrome. It is more martial and restless, in the toss of the horse’s
+head and the snap of the rider’s cloak. It suggests not ceremonious
+dignity, but noise and impending action. It may very powerfully have
+influenced Verrocchio twenty years later when he modelled for Venice the
+Colleoni statue.
+
+The truculence of Andrea’s manner led to a false and scandalous
+tradition, promulgated by Vasari, that he slew his rival Domenico
+Veneziano out of jealousy. As a matter of prosaic record, Domenico
+Veneziano survived his alleged assassin’s death, in 1457, by all of four
+years.
+
+Domenico came down from Venice somewhere about 1438 and brought with him
+a new technical method. He finished the pictures, which he began in
+tempera, with veilings or glazes in an oil or varnish medium. He avoided
+the old frank Gothic coloring in favor of pale tonalities which oddly
+forecast our modern open-air school. The new method permitted of bolder
+brushwork and successive over paintings. For the moment it wrought havoc
+with the old conventional beauty, but it offered the painter new
+resources and refinements, and eventually made possible the triumphs of
+Leonardo and Titian.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 98. Domenico Veneziano. Madonna with St. Lucy.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+On the whole, Domenico is merely the shadow of a great name, for we have
+only a handful of works by him, and those perhaps unrepresentative. The
+altar-piece of St. Lucy, in the Uffizi, Figure 98, is novel only in its
+acid and original dissonance of deep rose and pale green. The rugged St.
+John the Baptist shows an attempt to obtain force of modelling without
+exaggerating the shadows. This tendency persists in such disciples of
+Domenico as Baldovinetti and Piero della Francesca, and rules in
+Florence until Leonardo’s definitive application of Masaccio’s methods.
+In the profile portraiture of the period Domenico was a master, as shown
+in an admirable female portrait in Mrs. John L. Gardner’s collection,
+Figure 99. Many similar heads, which we can hardly ascribe to particular
+masters, seem to derive from Domenico. One of the most beautiful is in
+the Poldi Pezzoli Museum at Milan. All of Domenico’s pupils and
+imitators excel in a minute and topographical style of landscape of
+which he was probably the inventor. It may be studied in Piero della
+Francesca, in the Pollaiuoli, in Baldovinetti, and there is even a trace
+of it in the spacious Alpine background of the Mona Lisa.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 99. Domenico Veneziano. Portrait of a Girl.—_Coll. Mrs. John L.
+    Gardner, Boston._
+]
+
+Domenico died in 1461. By that time Florentine realism was emerging from
+its first phase, and was beginning to investigate with its new resources
+the facts of motion. It was the moment, too, when certain realists
+sought to regain the grace which had largely been sacrificed in the
+struggle for sheer knowledge.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 100. A. Baldovinetti. Madonna.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Alesso Baldovinetti[38] well represents this moment in a lovely Madonna
+in the Louvre, Figure 100, which shows in perfection the new
+topographical landscape and that juvenile graciousness which was to be
+the staple of the coming generation of artists. Baldovinetti was born in
+1425, and this loveliest of all his pictures may represent him about the
+year 1460. He had been an assistant of Fra Angelico, but in a long
+career, he died in 1499, he fell behind the times. He taught Domenico
+Ghirlandaio his elements, and profoundly influenced Andrea Verrocchio
+and Antonio Pollaiuolo. Thus he keeps a sure if modest place in the
+progress of Florentine art.
+
+In this chapter we have been dealing in a rough way with the Florence of
+Cosimo de’ Medici. Under his astute and delicate rule from behind the
+political scenes, Florence developed in wealth, splendor, and
+worldliness. The old piety was waning or assuming merely æsthetic forms.
+Greek studies were beginning to pave the way for an enlightened and
+sceptical humanism and, withal, a revival of the pagan sense of beauty.
+And when the new beauty came, it was gratefully mindful of those who had
+made it possible. Leonardo de Vinci lauds Masaccio. He expresses the
+immense debt that art owes to the first conscious realists. They did
+good and harm, but to Florence at least they opened the only way of
+progress. For whatever art may be elsewhere, in Florence it was fruitful
+only as it was intellectualized. Good theory, good practice—such was the
+creed imposed by the early realists and later formulated by their great
+scion, Leonardo. I do not offer it as a universal formula, but in these
+days when pure spontaneity—that is no theory—and false theory divide the
+field, the old Florentine credo is at least worthy of consideration by
+all who produce art and by all who love it. Baldovinetti was untouched
+by these new stirrings which are associated with the rule of Lorenzo de’
+Medici, but he dimly forecasts the grace that was soon to come. This new
+spirit and its exponents must be the theme of our next chapter.
+
+
+                     ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER III
+
+
+                           VASARI ON MASACCIO
+
+  Vasari’s general estimate of Masaccio’s importance is still sound.
+
+  “With regard to the good manner of painting, we are indebted above all
+  to Masaccio, seeing that he, as one desirous of acquiring fame,
+  perceived that painting is nothing but the counterfeiting of all the
+  things of nature, vividly and simply, with drawing and with colours,
+  even as she produced them for us.... This truth, I say, being
+  recognized by Masaccio, brought it about that by means of continuous
+  study he learned so much that he can be numbered among the first who
+  cleared away, in a great measure, the hardness, the imperfections, and
+  the difficulties of the art, and that he gave a beginning to beautiful
+  attitudes, movements, liveliness, and vivacity, and to a certain
+  relief truly characteristic and natural; which no painter up to his
+  time had done.... And he painted his works with good unity and
+  softness, harmonizing the flesh-colours of the heads and of the nudes
+  with the colours of the draperies, which he delighted to make with few
+  folds and simple, as they are in life and nature....
+
+  “For this reason that chapel has been frequented continually up to our
+  own day [1554] by innumerable draughtsmen and masters; and there still
+  are therein some heads so life-like and so beautiful, that it may
+  truly be said that no master of that age approached so nearly as this
+  man did to the moderns. His labours, therefore, deserve infinite
+  praise, and above all because he gave form in his art to the beautiful
+  manner of the times.”
+
+  Vasari then names twenty-five artists who studied Masaccio’s frescoes.
+  From De Vere’s translation of the _Lives_, Vol. II, p. 189, 90.
+
+
+                     LEONARDO DA VINCI ON MASACCIO
+
+  Leonardo da Vinci uses Masaccio as the example of a painter who goes
+  to nature rather than to other men’s painting.
+
+
+  =That Painting declines and deteriorates from age to age, when
+  painters have no standard but painting already done.=
+
+
+  “Hence the painter will produce pictures of small merit if he takes
+  for his standard the pictures of others. But if he will study from
+  natural objects he will bear good fruit; as was seen in the painters
+  after the Romans who always imitated each other, and so their art
+  declined from age to age. After these came Giotto the Florentine
+  who—not content with imitating the works of Cimabue; his master—being
+  born in the mountains and in a solitude inhabited only by goats and
+  such beasts, and being guided by nature to his art, began by drawing
+  on the rocks the movements of the goats of which he was keeper. And
+  thus he began to draw all the animals which were to be found in the
+  country, and in such wise that after much study he excelled not only
+  all the masters of his time but all those of many bygone ages.”
+
+  “Afterwards this art declined again, because everyone imitated the
+  pictures that were already done; thus it went on from century to
+  century until Tomaso, of Florence, nicknamed Masaccio, showed by his
+  perfect works how those who take for their standard any one but
+  nature—the mistress of all masters—weary themselves in vain.”
+
+           J. P. Richter “_Literary Works of L. da V._,” Vol. I. p. 660.
+
+
+  But Leonardo approves also imitation of antiquity (Richter, Vol. II,
+  ¶1445). “The imitation of antique things is better than that of modern
+  things.” He would probably have sanctioned Masaccio’s devout study of
+  Giotto. The warning is against slavish imitation of immediate
+  predecessors.
+
+
+                        VASARI ON PAOLO UCCELLO
+
+  The admirable and self sacrificing ardor of these first realists is
+  best exemplified in the case of Paolo Uccello.
+
+
+  “For the sake of these investigations [in perspective] he kept himself
+  in seclusion and almost a hermit, having little intercourse with
+  anyone, and staying weeks and months in his house without shaving
+  himself. And although those were difficult and beautiful problems, if
+  he had spent that time in the study of figures, he would have brought
+  them to absolute perfection; for even so he made them with passing
+  good draughtsmanship. But, consuming his time in these researches, he
+  remained throughout his whole life more poor than famous; wherefore
+  the sculptor Donatello, who was very much his friend, said to him very
+  often—when Paolo showed him Mazzocchi (facetted head-fillets) with
+  pointed ornaments, and squares drawn in perspective from diverse
+  aspects; spheres with seventy-two diamond-shaped facets, with
+  wood-shavings wound round sticks on each facet; and other fantastic
+  devices on which he spent and wasted his time—‘Ah, Paolo, this
+  perspective of thine makes thee abandon the substance for the shadow;
+  those are things that are only useful to men who work at the inlaying
+  of wood, seeing that they fill their borders with chips and shavings,
+  with spirals both round and square, and with other similar things.’”
+
+
+  Vasari, in Schele de Vere’s translation; Vol. II. p. 132, 3.
+
+
+                AN APPRAISAL OF BALDOVINETTI’S FRESCOES
+
+  Here I may illustrate a common practice of the times in an appraisal
+  of Baldovinetti’s frescoes in the choir of the Trinità by fellow
+  artists including Benozzo Gozzoli, Cosimo Rosselli and Pietro
+  Perugino.
+
+
+  “In the name of God—on the 19 of January 1496 (n. s. ’97)
+
+  We Benozzo di Lese, painter; and Piero di Cristofano da Castel della
+  Pieve, painter; and Cosimo di Lorenzo Rosselli, painter, chosen by
+  Alesso di Baldovinetti, painter, to see and judge and set a price
+  on—empowered by a contract which said Alesso has with M. Bongianni
+  de’Gianfigliazzi and his heirs—a chapel pictured in Santa Trinità of
+  Florence—that is the choir of the said church, having seen, all
+  together and agreeing, having examined all the costs of lime, azure,
+  gold and all other colours, scaffolds and everything else, including
+  his work, we judge from all this that the aforesaid Alesso should have
+  one thousand broad gold florins.
+
+  “And for clearness and truth of the said judgment I Cosimo di Lorenzo
+  aforesaid have made this writing with my own hand this aforesaid day,
+  and so I judge; and here at the foot they will sign with their own
+  hands that they are agreed with what is above written, and so judge.
+
+  Benozzo di Lese &c.
+
+  I Piero Perugino &c.
+
+
+  Translated from Herbert Horne’s edition of Alesso’s _Ricordi_ in
+  _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. II. (1903) p. 383.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 101. Ghirlandaio. Giovanna degli Albizzi.—_J. P. Morgan Coll.,
+    New York._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+             FRA FILIPPO LIPPI AND THE NEW NARRATIVE STYLE
+
+  After Masaccio two tendencies,—towards prettiness and vivacious
+      narrative; towards strenuous research—Fra Filippo Lippi celebrant
+      of Gay Florence—Benozzo Gozzoli and Pageantry—Antonio Pollaiuolo
+      and human dynamics—Piero della Francesca and impersonal
+      observation of appearances—Dissolving tendencies in the new
+      panoramic style—illustrated by the early frescoes in the Sistine
+      Chapel—Perugino’s return to simple symmetries—The _Cassone_
+      painters once more—Domenico Ghirlandaio and spectacular
+      narrative—His portraits—The charm of the slighter narrative style.
+
+
+In the last chapter we have dealt chiefly with innovators and reformers.
+Whether in art or life, these are not always the most agreeable
+companions. The charming person is generally a traditionalist, or a
+tactful profiteer by other men’s discoveries. So the popular favor has
+ever gone not to the strenuous artists of Masaccio’s type or Castagno’s,
+but to devotees of the charm of common folk and things, like Fra Filippo
+Lippi; to masters of pageantry and incident, like Benozzo Gozzoli; or to
+chroniclers of the festal richness of Florence in her short prime, like
+Domenico Ghirlandaio. These artists, while by no means giants, are
+highly representative of their times. They one and all aimed to please,
+and amply succeeded. Their importance in the history of art is rather
+slight; in the history of taste, on the contrary, they are very
+important. And it is from that point of view that we shall do well to
+consider them. These three masters cover the last two-thirds of the
+fifteenth century. They exemplify the taste of the new-rich merchants
+who flourished under the benevolent tyranny of the Medici.
+
+Alongside of these gracious and adaptable spirits, struggled the
+continuers of the realistic reform—Antonio Pollaiuolo, who first
+systematically studied the anatomy and dynamics of the human form;
+Andrea Verrocchio, who imbued accuracy and power with grace; Sandro
+Botticelli, who explored solitary roads of sentiment and wrought out of
+the ruggedness of the realists strange forms of recondite beauty. At all
+times we find the endeavor for artistic adaptation running alongside the
+passion for sheer discovery, and producing its own triumphs. It is this
+complicated, dual process which makes the richness and continuity of the
+Early Renaissance. If we compare the seventy-two years between the
+beginnings of Masaccio, say 1422, and the death of Ghirlandaio, in 1494,
+with the century and a half preceding, we shall note an extraordinary
+acceleration both of production and progress. There are no gaps and
+rests; each generation makes its discoveries and cashes them in.
+Architecture, sculpture, classical scholarship develop with a whirling
+rapidity which by no means precludes taste and reflection. In an almost
+reckless expansion of emotion, experience, and creative activity,
+Florence keeps her head though she risks losing her soul. And the true
+harbinger of this intoxicating new life is one who often lost his head
+and whose soul remains enigmatic, the wayward and fascinating
+painter-monk, Fra Filippo Lippi.[39]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 102. Filippo Lippi. Madonna in Adoration.—_Berlin._
+]
+
+He was the first Italian painter to care greatly for the look of
+everyday people. Born about the year 1400, he was early orphaned and
+thrust willy-nilly into the Carmelite Order. As a young man he must have
+seen Masaccio painting those titanic designs in the Brancacci Chapel.
+From Masaccio Fra Filippo learned his trade, rather by observation than
+by direct instruction. But he cared for far different things. He really
+follows the tender narrative vein of Lorenzo Monaco. To the grandeur of
+miracle-working apostles, he preferred the gentle quaintness of the old
+man who kept the shops and practiced the trades of Florence; to the
+matronly dignity of Masaccio’s women, he preferred the shy and alluring
+sweetness of the Florentine girls about him; to the majestic sweeps of
+mountain and valley in Masaccio, the intimate appeal of the cypress
+groves, the little ledges and trickling springs. In technique, too, he
+avoided the bold short-cuts of his master. He hung on to the line, loved
+details, described everything with solicitude. It is an art of
+amiability and curiosity, generally disregardful of that grand style
+towards which in her greater moments Florence ever aspired. The advent
+of Fra Filippo in the Florence of Giotto and Orcagna and Masaccio, was
+like that of an irresistibly attractive youth in a solemn company. He
+loosened everything up. Unconsciously he demoralized the assembly; for
+two generations the art of Florence was to be boyish and girlish. That
+is its charm and its limitation, and the difference between the Early
+Renaissance and the Golden Age will be largely that the latter will
+prefer to depict with the gravity of maturity a world that has grown up.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 103. Fra Fillipo Lippi. Madonna and Child.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+One of the earliest and most exquisite panels by Fra Filippo was painted
+shortly after 1435 for the private chapel of Cosimo de’ Medici’s new
+palace, and is now at Berlin. The theme, young Mary kneeling before her
+Divine Infant, Figure 102, is a favorite with the Florentine artists of
+this century. Perhaps no one has conceived it more delightfully than Fra
+Filippo. The picture gets its peculiar sweetness from the gentle,
+girlish figure of the Maiden Mother, its quality of romance from the
+ledgy background watered by springs and spangled with modest flowers,
+its tang of reality from the chubby and stolid Christchild and the
+boyish St. John the Baptist. You could almost see such a thing today
+along the shaded upper Mensola when a young Florentine mother has taken
+the children for a Sunday picnic. For the old Gothic conventions and the
+bare majesty of Masaccio’s painting, Fra Filippo has substituted the
+everyday joys of a feeling eye, and the charm of closely-observed little
+things.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 104. Fra Filippo Lippi. Coronation of the Virgin.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+In most of his pictures this familiar quality is marked. His saints are
+not types, but people of the Florentine middle class. An early Madonna
+in the Uffizi, Figure 103, shows the Virgin as a slight girl with her
+ash-blond locks elaborately dressed and braided for a holiday. She is
+almost overborne by her sturdy Son, an exacting brute, one may imagine,
+while the attendant angel is a grinning street Arab caught in the
+intervals of mischief. Such pictures with their winsomeness and
+actuality worked powerfully to break down both the old Gothic decorum
+and the new sublimity of Masaccio.
+
+To grasp the novelty of Fra Filippo’s most famous panel picture, The
+Coronation of the Virgin, painted for the nuns of St. Ambrogio in 1441,
+Figure 104, and now in the Uffizi, one has only to recall the devoutly
+formal and simple version of the subject which Fra Angelico painted
+about the same time for the convent of San Marco. The composition of Fra
+Filippo, on the contrary, is radiantly informal. We breathe the air of
+the commencement at a very nice girls’ school, with adoring friends and
+proud relatives moving at the edges of the ceremony. Indeed God the
+Father has merely the air of a benevolent trustee or visiting minor
+celebrity awarding a prize to the best girl. It is all like the crowning
+of a _Rosière_ in a French village. Robert Browning in one of the most
+admirable poems in “Men and Women” makes Fra Filippo promise
+
+                                    “I shall paint
+              God in the midst, Madonna and her Babe.
+              Ringed by a bowery, flowery angel-brood,
+              Lilies and vestments and white faces, sweet
+              As puff on puff of grated orris-root
+              When ladies crowd to church at Midsummer.”
+
+Our picture is evidence enough that the time has come to Florentine art
+when youth shall be served.
+
+Monastic vows, and in fact duties of any sort, bore lightly on Fra
+Filippo. He tasted the forbidden sweets of life recklessly, and worked
+only when the rare mood urged. He was in and out of the good graces of
+the Medici. Called to Prato to fresco the choir of the Collegiata, in
+1455, he was nine years achieving what a steady workman would have done
+in two. But in the meantime Fra Filippo had run away with the nun,
+Lucrezia Buti, shuffled off his monastic vows (through the indulgence of
+the humanist Pope, Pius II), married and settled down as the father of a
+family. His random joyous course was nearly run, and his last frescoes
+at Prato show a kind of discipline that is foreign to his earlier work.
+In 1464 he completed the Feast of Herod and the Funeral of St. Stephen,
+frescoes which forecast the sort of narrative painting that was to mark
+the close of the century.
+
+About the brutality of the Feast of Herod, Figure 105, Fra Filippo has
+cast a dreamy glamour, as indeed Giotto had before him. The youthful
+guests are absorbed in Salome’s dancing. Following the sculptors of the
+day, Fra Filippo has made her slight and graceful, as she trips a
+careless measure. The air is simply that of a gentle society. The grim
+motive of the delivery of the head of John the Baptist to Herodias is
+gently emphasized by the charming act of two little handmaids who clutch
+each other for fright. The sprightliness of the invention, the
+generalized idyllic charm of the feeling, the rich variety of
+accessories, the youthful timbre of the whole—make this not merely one
+of the best but also one of the most characteristic narrative mural
+paintings of the Early Renaissance. It strikes the note which will be
+echoed by Fra Filippo’s apprentice, Sandro Botticelli; which will be
+exaggerated by Fra Filippo’s son, Filippino, and distantly imitated by
+many another Florentine successor.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 105. Fra Filippo Lippi. Feast of Herod. Salome’s Dance.
+    Fresco.—_Collegiata. Prato._
+]
+
+If the Feast of Herod best exemplifies the element of homely poetry and
+inventive grace in Fra Filippo, the Burial of St. Stephen, Figure 106,
+just opposite in the choir proves that he was not oblivious to the high
+and decorous prose of his master Masaccio. In formality and power of
+construction few painters then living could have equalled it, and those
+few could not have rivalled its spacious architectural setting and its
+suggestion of atmosphere. At first sight it seems nearly equal to the
+Tribute Money or at least to the Tabitha. On more careful survey it is
+less noble, more insistently pathetic, and in every way more loosely
+knit. In particular the portraits at the sides have little but a
+mechanical relation to the theme. Masaccio himself had admitted a
+similar gallery of mere bystanders in The Miracle of the Prince, but had
+he lived to complete the fresco, he would doubtless have brought the
+portrait figures into some relation of interest in the miracle. Fra
+Filippo virtually waives that problem and merely flanks his real subject
+with bordering groups of persons of contemporary importance. As a matter
+of fact, the Florentine donor was no longer humble-minded and content to
+appear among the saints in miniature and unobtrusive guise. He now
+insisted in being painted to the life with his family, friends, and
+dependents,—a complacent, incongruous apparition amid the humility or
+heroism of the saints. Fra Filippo made the sensible adjustment that the
+donors should serve as a sort of human frame for the religious picture
+in the centre. This solution became tiresomely standard and lasted for
+fifty years or so, until the High Renaissance had authority enough to
+impose considerations of taste and self-effacement even upon wealthy
+donors.
+
+In 1465 Fra Filippo was called to Spoleto, and there having started a
+lovely apse decoration, A Coronation, for the cathedral, he died and was
+buried. Quite unconsciously he had temporarily shattered that
+intellectual formalism which is the very essence of Florentine art, and
+had inaugurated that moral and artistic holiday which is made visible in
+the painting of Botticelli and Ghirlandaio and audible in the songs of
+Lorenzo de’ Medici.
+
+This holiday mood is strong in Benozzo Gozzoli, and he spread it through
+Umbria and the Sienese country. Born in 1420, for a time an assistant of
+Fra Angelico, Benozzo’s task was to depict with more vivacity than
+insight the splendors and humors of life. This he does, whether his
+theme be the legend of St. Francis, as at Montefalco in 1462, the
+Cavalcade of the Magi, Florence, 1469, the Life of St. Augustine, San
+Gimignano, 1465, or the doings of the Old Testament Patriarchs and
+Matriarchs, at Pisa, 1468–1484. He is always sunny, profuse, witty in an
+obvious way; and not without his tinge of the poetry of youth. He loves
+gardens, courtyards, forests, and equally well palaces, colonnades,
+crowds and incidents. He is indefatigably panoramic, and his frescoes,
+if hardly good pictures, are at least good pickings, for their abundant
+and often refreshing detail.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 106. Fra Filippo Lippi. Funeral of St. Stephen.
+    Fresco.—_Collegiata. Prato._
+]
+
+Very splendid is that pageant of the Wise Men from the East, Figure 107,
+which he painted about 1469[40] for the private chapel of Cosimo de’
+Medici’s palace. The gorgeous procession winds about the walls, moving
+over the mountain roads and through the forests which you may still see
+up the Arno valley towards Vallombrosa. Their goal was the little panel
+over the altar where Filippo Lippi painted the Madonna reverently
+kneeling before her Son, Figure 102. This little picture was flanked by
+choirs, in fresco, of singing angels. For the oldest of the Three Kings
+Benozzo chose, according to tradition, the unfortunate Emperor John
+Palaeologus, who thirty years earlier had come to Florence on the vain
+mission of uniting the Eastern and Western branches of the Christian
+Church. The youthful kings are said to portray Giuliano and Lorenzo de’
+Medici. What we really have is a pictorial version of those religious
+pageants or representations which were common at the times. Many times
+Florence had seen her patricians in such a cavalcade. Benozzo’s fresco
+in its undiminished loveliness of color and gold—the Medici apparently
+either ordered few masses or burned few candles in their family
+chapel—is a most precious relic of bygone splendors. Indeed they passed
+before Benozzo himself, for he lived on till 1498, four years after
+Lorenzo the Magnificent’s death, and the year of Savonarola’s martyrdom;
+the year, too, when Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper was being finished.
+Few artists have had such emphatic intimations that their world and they
+themselves were obsolete. It is in every way to be hoped in Benozzo’s
+case that he was at once too cheerful and too unintelligent to grasp the
+situation. This may be fairly supposed of a man who was content for
+fifty years of a swiftly moving world with what could be learned from
+Fra Angelico.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 107. Benozzo Gozzoli. Detail from Procession of Magi.—_Riccardi
+    Palace._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 108. Antonio Pollaiuolo. Martyrdom of St. Sebastian.—_London._
+]
+
+Of course some painters declined to keep holiday and feverishly pursued
+the lines of realistic investigation laid down by Castagno and his
+contemporaries. The most notable of these is Antonio Pollaiuolo.[41] He
+was trained in sculpture under Ghiberti, and worked most variously, at
+sculpture, painting, engraving, glass designing, and even embroiderers’
+patterns. Everywhere he pursued with an almost ferocious intensity the
+secrets of anatomy and especially of the human body in violent action.
+He conceived the body as a powerful machine and rejoiced to display its
+mechanisms—knotted muscles, straining sinews. He chose his subjects with
+this sort of display in mind: Hercules and his feats, the archers
+setting their bows and crossbows for the slaying of St. Sebastian, nude
+men in deadly combat with dirks and axes, nude men wildly dancing.
+Nearly all these works suffer from their avowed experimentalism, but all
+are alive with a tingling not to say brutal energy. Antonio Pollaiuolo
+is the ancestor of all the strong painters who for over four centuries
+have delighted to appal the mild and sheeplike throng with wolfish
+antics. He is the first artist who is a specialist, pursuing his own
+ends in disregard of the surrounding public. As a matter of fact,
+Antonio’s muscular paganism fitted in fairly well with the notions of a
+Florence that worshipped power. The Medici ordered the twelve feats of
+Hercules for their palace, about the year 1460. The great pictures are
+lost, but little copies by Antonio himself give an idea of their
+truculent force. In the Uffizi are Hercules crushing the breath out of
+the earthborn demigod Antæus, and Hercules slaying the Hydra. The
+tension, ardor, and ferocity of these tiny pictures are extraordinary.
+They seem to enhance our own physical life. At New Haven is the panel of
+Hercules shooting the Centaur Nessus, who races across a ford with
+Deinaira on his back. The background is an exact picture of the Arno
+valley looking from the west towards Florence. The representation of the
+run of the river is extraordinary. Pollaiuolo had adopted Domenico
+Veneziano’s miniature conception of landscape, but has introduced swing
+and motion.
+
+Equally remarkable is the Arno landscape in the Martyrdom of St.
+Sebastian, Figure 108, which was painted in 1475. It has the defects of
+an experimental and academic performance, is a show piece. The
+executioners are even repeated, to show both front and rear aspects. All
+the same, its power is impressive and beyond the range of any artist
+then living, with the possible exception of Piero della Francesca. In
+painting Pollaiuolo’s accomplishment is so even, and in draped figures
+so ugly, that we may well pass the series of Virtues which with his
+brother Piero he did in 1469 for the Mercantile Court, and consider his
+great engraving known as the Ten Nudes, Figure 109, the odd decorative
+disposition of which is imitated by Botticelli in the Allegory of
+Spring; and the fresco of Dancing Men, in which Pollaiuolo successfully
+vies with the convivial and Bacchic themes of the Greek vase painters.
+The group is odd and effective as pattern, and inspired by a joyous
+energy.
+
+Painting only claimed a fraction of Antonio’s effort; often he merely
+made the sketch and left the execution to his rather tame brother,
+Piero. At the end of his life he was called down to Rome to make the
+bronze tomb for Sixtus IV. There he died in the year 1498, being
+sixty-three years old. While his own achievement was somewhat cramped
+and limited, he had made the most valuable contributions to the art, or
+rather to the science of painting. He had inspired a titan like
+Signorelli and a poet like Botticelli, and in certain aspects Leonardo
+da Vinci and Michelangelo only continued and perfected his work. As late
+as Benvenuto Cellini’s day his sketches were passed about the studios
+for the instruction of young painters in anatomy.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 109. Antonio Pollaiuolo. Fighting Men—“The Ten Nudes.” Engraving.
+]
+
+A kindred strenuous spirit, Piero della Francesca,[42] affords an
+interesting contrast to Pollaiuolo. Though an Umbrian, he belongs
+spiritually to Florence. For Piero the world was a frozen thing. He
+investigated with utmost zeal the mathematical basis of perspective,
+producing on that topic a laborious and quite unreadable book. He
+studied anatomy and construction in light and dark, and all the
+atmospheric problems therewith associated. To attain atmospheric
+envelopment, he sacrificed color. His pictures exist in silvery grays,
+suggesting the blondness and tonal unity of modern open-air painting.
+The drama of life never engrossed him. His world is passionless and
+almost motionless, coldly impressive. Although he practiced all
+refinements of modelling, he never made those relaxations of contour
+which suggest movement. His figures are finely constructed and
+beautifully placed but emotionally unrelated. They merely exist rather
+splendidly, as do some of Manet’s figures. Indeed the warning of George
+Moore as regards Manet applies equally to Piero. It is futile to seek
+from him anything but fine painting.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 110. Piero della Francesca. The Resurrection.—_Borgo S.
+    Sepolcro._
+]
+
+Of his origins we know next to nothing. He was born about 1410 in the
+Umbrian town of Borgo San Sepolcro. For several years after 1439 we find
+him at Florence as a paid assistant of Domenico Veneziano, whose pale
+tonalities and topographically minute landscape reappear throughout
+Piero’s work. His austere power is best represented in the bleak
+Resurrection, Figure 110, which he painted in 1460 for his native city.
+The stalwart Conqueror of Death has an apparitional impressiveness. He
+comes with power from beyond the grave. He dominates the world as
+represented by the sleeping athletes of the guard. A most potent effect
+is obtained without sacrifice to sentiment. There is a similar
+detachment in the Baptism of Christ, in the National Gallery, London.
+Its pearly loveliness of color is in odd contrast to its evasions of
+anything like warmth or tenderness. It is less an event than a
+magnificently posed scene. The landscape is a liberating and informal
+feature, a skilful adaptation of the method of Domenico Veneziano and
+Pollaiuolo. It is as crisp and calculated as a Japanese print, yet it
+gives its effect of space and breadth.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 111. Piero della Francesca. Battle of Constantine, detail from
+    fresco.—_S. Francesco, Arezzo._
+]
+
+Piero’s great opportunity came about 1465 when he painted in the choir
+of San Francesco at Arezzo ten stories from the Legend of the Holy
+Cross. For stark impressiveness it is hard to match them in Italy in
+this century. Only Masaccio and Leonardo da Vinci will at all bear the
+comparison. On analysis, the power rests mostly on the seriousness with
+which Piero takes his technical problem. There is little real grief or
+pathos in the Last Days of Adam, it is merely impersonally solemn. Even
+of the admirable fresco which represents Constantine in the uneasy dream
+in which he saw the vision of the cross, there is no warmth, no
+unexpected or emotional quality. So it is throughout the series; in the
+Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon, even in the splendid battle-piece, the
+Victory over Maxentius, Figure 111, the obvious sentiment of the theme
+is ignored, the figures have a kind of splendid unrelated existence that
+requires no apology or explanation. It is an effect that recalls the
+best archaic Greek sculpture.
+
+Taken all in all, Piero is a formidable and enigmatic figure, an
+exception in an eager and emotional age. His truth to his vision is what
+counts. One feels it in the portrait of the humanist sovereign and
+captain of Urbino, Federigo da Montefeltro. It was painted about 1472
+and is in the Uffizi, Figure 112. How sternly honest it is, and what a
+presentation of a powerful and beneficent personality. Even the little
+decorative picture on the back of the panel, a Triumph of Fame, has an
+effect beyond its scale and obvious intention. It suggests wide
+dominions and heavy responsibilities manfully met.
+
+Piero della Francesca lived out his life mostly in Umbria and far from
+the artistic centre of things. There is a self-sufficing quality in this
+voluntary isolation. He lived on to great old age, dying in 1492, and
+unless his declining years were perturbed by the faintly rising star of
+Leonardo da Vinci, he might boast himself, in the words of his and
+Leonardo’s friend, Fra Luca Pacioli, “the monarch of his times in the
+science of painting.”
+
+We must leave for the Umbrian chapter such sturdy continuers of Piero
+della Francesca’s experimentalism as Melozzo da Forlì and Luca
+Signorelli. What is more important to note in leaving him is that such
+triumphs as his in fresco painting were highly exceptional in the second
+half of the fifteenth century. The successes of the period are in the
+minor art of panel painting. The fantasies of Botticelli, the best
+portraits of Ghirlandaio, the early panels of Perugino and Signorelli
+and Leonardo da Vinci—these are the outstanding things. In mural
+painting Florence actually retrograded, not merely as compared with the
+days of Masaccio, Fra Filippo and Fra Angelico, but even as compared
+with the earlier days of Andrea Bonaiuti, Agnolo Gaddi and Spinello
+Aretino. The fact has been obscured by the superficial gain in small
+realism, in sprightliness, and mere prettiness, but in all the serious
+qualities of monumental design the decadence is unmistakable. The
+favorite decorators simply executed on a large scale the sort of
+compositions that would have been charming on the front of a
+bride-chest. In the general enthusiasm for the parts of pictures the
+sense of pictures as a whole seemed in danger of being lost. The
+undiscriminating enthusiasm for the primitive painting of the Early
+Renaissance which has ruled for two generations has so clouded critical
+opinion on this point, that I must be at some pains to make my case
+good.
+
+Perhaps I can do no better than to review some of the frescoes which
+Pope Sixtus IV ordered about 1481 for the new chapel of the Vatican
+Palace.[43] He summoned to the Sistine Chapel the best available artists
+from both Tuscany and Umbria. By the measure of their success we may
+estimate the mural painting of the time.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 112. Piero della Francesca. Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, despot of
+    Urbino.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Originally the decorative scheme, later amplified by Michelangelo,
+required sixteen scriptural stories, in which the deeds of Moses were
+parallelled by those of Christ. The two first and two last subjects, on
+the end walls, have been destroyed, but we still see the twelve on the
+side walls. In general they all show the old Gothic coloring, are mostly
+vivacious in a confused and over-rich way, and lack unity of pattern and
+dramatic coherence.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 113. Assistant of Perugino. Baptism. Fresco.—_Sistine Chapel._
+]
+
+One of the most admired is the Baptism of Christ, Figure 113, by
+Pintorricchio, (or, as Venturi suggests, Andrea of Assisi) who here
+works as Perugino’s assistant. The story is told in the centre and
+reinforced by a spacious landscape which is confusingly full of
+attractive features. The theme is mechanically stretched to fill the
+space by adding at both flanks groups which have slight or no connection
+with the subject. These groups are interestingly diversified with fine
+portraits of the Pope’s relatives, the Roveres, and by the alert forms
+of children. The effect is fairly restful and idyllic, but the pattern
+is mechanical, and the emotional effect of the real theme is frittered
+away in the accessories. The method of enlarging a stock composition by
+adding portrait groups is standard for the Sistine Chapel and for the
+period. Masaccio had tried it more effectively in the Miracle of the
+Boy, and Filippo Lippi had made it seem almost organic in The Funeral of
+St. Stephen. Pintorricchio, if it be he, is more superficially alluring
+for his richness and variety, but really stands on a far lower plane of
+design than his predecessors.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 114. Botticelli. Moses in the Land of Midian. Fresco.—_Sistine
+    Chapel, Rome._
+]
+
+If this mechanical symmetry is the standard method, there are
+significant exceptions in the Sistine Chapel. The more sensitive
+spirits, Botticelli and Luca Signorelli, reject so trite a solution.
+Botticelli’s Moses in Midian, Figure 114, offers a delicate evasion, by
+promoting a minor motive to be the central theme. All the incidents that
+are dramatically important—the slaying of the Egyptian taskmaster, and
+the adoration of the Burning Bush from which Jehovah spoke—are done with
+the most energetic feeling, but are relegated to the background and
+edges of the composition. The picture is really the fine grove in which
+Moses gallantly helps the nymph-like daughters of Jethro to draw water.
+A fantastic idyl is foisted off on us as a substitute for one of the
+decisive moments in the Providential order. Botticelli is so winning in
+his evasion, that it seems almost unfeeling to note that no Gothic
+painter would have done anything so shifty. His success is not merely at
+the expense of the expression of his real theme, but also at the expense
+of the order and dignity proper to mural design. Having ordered a canto
+of an epic, the Pope received a delicious madrigal. His contentment is
+characteristic of the æsthetic casualness of the times.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 115. Signorelli, Design only. Last Days of Moses.
+    Fresco.—_Sistine Chapel, Rome._
+]
+
+Signorelli, in the Last Days of Moses, Figure 115, makes a similar but
+less egregious evasion. His centre of interest is the nude youth in the
+foreground, but he does give a certain prominence to the scenes where
+Moses invests Joshua with authority, and where both view the Promised
+Land from Mount Horeb. Though without much emotional accent, the crowds
+are agreeably disposed and diversified by graceful forms of women and
+children. Only the design is by Signorelli, the execution being by an
+assistant, Don Bartolommeo della Gatta. The picture is more delightful
+for such passages as the Apollo-like nude youth and the mother with her
+children in the right foreground than it is as a whole, though it is
+full of idyllic charm, and inadequate only when one considers the
+gravity of its theme.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 116. Ghirlandaio. Christ calling Peter and Andrew.
+    Fresco.—_Sistine Chapel, Rome._
+]
+
+In his Calling of Peter and Andrew, Figure 116, to be fishers of men,
+Domenico Ghirlandaio makes a skilful and impressive use of that approved
+mechanical symmetry which has already been noticed in Pintorricchio’s
+Baptism. Everything is well centralized, the river view is a welcome
+outlet, the stereotyped bystanders on the flanks at least are telling
+portraits and, while not bound into the central motive, have withal a
+gravity that sufficiently accords with it. The arrangement is lucid, and
+the surplus accessories fairly well subordinated. A rather perfunctory
+quality in the central scene of homage and dedication reveals
+Ghirlandaio’s scanty imagination. His impressiveness has a certain
+dullness about it.
+
+Few words need be spent on the picturesque and irresponsible confusion
+which reigns in Cosimo Rosselli’s Destruction of Pharaoh’s Army in the
+Red Sea, Figure 117. Cosimo was one of the older painters in the chapel,
+forty-two years old. Yet a juvenile sensationalism and uncalculated
+restlessness prevail, and his attempts at vivacity and grace are as
+unhappy as his striving for effects of terror. It may well be that his
+eccentric young pupil, Piero di Cosimo, gave this fresco its febrile
+energy and its theatrical landscape. Certain it is that the three other
+frescoes by Cosimo are unmitigatedly dull. Oddly it was he alone who won
+the praise of Pope Sixtus, mostly for his profuse introduction of gold
+ornament.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 117. Cosimo Rosselli. Destruction of Pharaoh’s Army.
+    Fresco.—_Sistine Chapel._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 118. Perugino. Christ giving the Keys to Peter. Fresco.—_Sistine
+    Chapel, Rome._
+]
+
+We have seen in the Sistine Chapel a mechanical and rather perfunctory
+symmetry, various clever evasions of an idyllic sort, and a picturesque
+disorder side by side. The most ambitious decorative scheme of the time
+seems to result in a kind of artistic bankruptcy. But fortunately the
+Sistine Chapel contains its own self-criticism and remedy, in the
+extraordinary fresco by Pietro Perugino, Christ delivering the Keys to
+Peter, Figure 118. Perugino is an Umbrian from Città della Pieve,
+thirty-five years old, and with a certain amount of Florentine training.
+He has, like Masaccio sixty years before, looked at the art of his times
+and found it wanting. He has had the lucidity to see that the malady is
+surplusage and disorder. Hence, he argues, the remedy is simplicity and
+order. To this he adds a sense of vastness. In this picture the temple
+platform, a vastness made by man, is set within the vastness of a river
+valley made by nature. The foreground group is arranged in a formal half
+military order which is cunningly made easy and flexible by differences
+of posture and gesture. Every tilted head and pointed foot has its
+reason. Without undue insistence, all the apostles are interested in the
+rite which ordains their chief. Here is no casual pleasure ground in
+which you may delightfully look about, here is a definite vision of a
+momentous act which you must see swiftly, completely, and precisely as
+the artist intends you shall see. It is the only well-considered design
+among these frescoes. It points the simplest and surest way by which the
+exuberance of the Early Renaissance might be disciplined into a noble
+order, and within twenty years the lesson was to be reread for all Italy
+by young Raphael of Urbino. Meanwhile the somewhat irresponsible
+exuberance of the new narrative painting has after all its winning
+aspect, is a sign of an energy and enthusiasm that need not so much to
+be tamed as to be intellectualized.
+
+In discussing the last twenty years of the fifteenth century in Florence
+I am embarrassed by the richness of the field. Beside such typical
+figures as Botticelli and Ghirlandaio, we have to do with such sensitive
+and morbid spirits as Filippino Lippo and Piero di Cosimo; with Andrea
+Verrocchio and a group of imitators of his fastidious manner, notable
+among them young Leonardo da Vinci; with a host of secondary painters,
+particularly of furniture panels, and small altar-pieces, while if we
+consider rather artistic training than accident of birth, we must reckon
+with the Florentine achievement the rugged triumphs of Luca Signorelli.
+But since the more distinctive and progressive of these artists are
+really precursors of the Golden Age, or symptomatic of the unrest that
+was its prelude, they may best be treated later. That will leave us only
+the painters who are fully representative of the festal moment of
+Lorenzo the Magnificent’s greatness—the furniture painters and
+Ghirlandaio.
+
+Those excesses of vivacity, those extravagances of invention, those
+juvenile graces which were a weakness in mural painting, were admirably
+in place in the decoration of chests and wainscots. The greater artists
+gladly accepted this little work, and some painters painted exclusively
+trousseau chests (_cassoni_) for young brides—an enviable occupation,
+for surely these fair young creatures had to be personally consulted.
+The subjects glorify love, magnify valor, celebrate the festal life of
+the day, its pageants, feasts, and dances. Of professional _cassoni_
+painters Francesco Pesellino[44] (1422–1457) is the most famous. He is
+bewitching in variety and sensitiveness of invention, in refinement of
+story telling, and in glamour of color. Two admirable _cassone_ fronts
+by him are owned by Mrs. John L. Gardner, Figure 119. They represent the
+six triumphs described by Petrarch in so many _Canzoni_. Love, Chastity,
+Death, Time, Fame, and Eternity are figured forth much as these themes
+were embodied in contemporary pageants, about the year 1450. The
+subjects were favorites for _cassoni_ less because of their grave moral
+import than because Petrarch was Love’s accredited Poet Laureate.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 119. Francesco Pesellino. Cassone Front. Triumphs of Love,
+    Chastity, and Death.—_Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston._
+]
+
+We have in the New York Historical Society the superb salver, Figure
+119a, which was prepared against the birth of Lorenzo de’ Medici.
+Appropriately it shows knights acclaiming fame. The date is 1448, the
+painter of the school of Domenico Veneziano.
+
+We often see the Queen of Sheba reverently approaching Solomon. It is
+the admonition that a young bride should seek wisdom. Battles and Roman
+triumphs are tediously common. They set a mark of valor for the
+bridegroom. Wedding Feasts are almost tautological on a bride-chest, but
+they afford charming pictures of the Florence that amused itself.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 119_a._> Follower of Domenico Veneziano, perhaps Baldovinetti.
+    Triumph of Fame. Birth Salver for Lorenzo de’ Medici.—_N. Y.
+    Historical Society._
+]
+
+Mythology often dignifies these painted stories, the reference being
+generally to that beauty which is institutional in brides. Thus we have
+in a _spalliera_ panel in the Fogg Museum the Judgment of Paris, with
+the competing goddesses more modestly clothed than Ovid’s record
+justifies. The work is possibly an exceptionally amiable product of
+Cosimo Rosselli, and the date may be about 1475. The Rape of Helen,
+which was of course due to her fatal beauty, is a common if unedifying
+subject for bride-chests. So is Actæon torn by the hounds of the Divine
+Huntress for his temerity in surprising Diana at her bath. A delightful
+panel in the possession of Mr. Martin Ryerson at Chicago recounts in
+many episodes the adventures of Ulysses from his escape from Polyphemus
+to his home-coming at Ithaca. The dalliances of the much-experienced
+wanderer are by no means concealed, but at least the scene opens with
+prominent display of the episode most creditable to him as a married
+man, the baffling of the Sirens, and closes with the exemplary figure of
+constant Penelope weaving her interminable web.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 120. Bartolommeo di Giovanni under Botticelli’s direction.
+    Nastagio degli Onesti’s Feast. Spalliera panel.—_Spiridon Coll.,
+    Paris._
+]
+
+In furniture painting we are generally in the realm of comedy. But we
+touch pathos in Boccaccio’s story of patient Griselda, at Bergamo,
+Modena, and elsewhere; while we approach tragedy in the many versions of
+chaste Susanna assailed and traduced by the elders, and attain to
+notable melodrama in Boccaccio’s grim vision of the spirit lover
+eternally harrying the miserable ghost of his merciless lady through the
+pine wood of Ravenna. The best of these panels is in the Spiridon
+Collection, Paris. The ghostly scene of the chase takes place before the
+picnic party, Figure 120, artfully arranged by Nastagio degli Onesti to
+prove to his unfeeling lady that there is a penalty in the next world
+for being too cruel to a lover in this. The lesson Boccaccio tells us
+was effective, and they lived happily together ever afterwards. The
+panel was designed by Botticelli and painted by his assistant,
+Bartolommeo di Giovanni, for the wedding of a Bini groom and a Pucci
+bride in the year 1487.
+
+With it we take leave of Florentine furniture painting, an art too
+unpretentious to be considered at length in a general survey, yet too
+charming in itself and too representative of the heyday of Florentine
+wealth and gayety to be wholly neglected.
+
+Sandro Botticelli and Domenico Ghirlandaio mark in very different
+fashions the culmination and the close of the Early Renaissance in
+Florence. Botticelli is the poet of its nostalgia. He expresses not its
+joyous average, but the erotic and mystical subtilities of Lorenzo de’
+Medici’s Platonic Academy, and later the Apocalyptic hopes and despairs
+that gathered around Savonarola. He utters a discontent and ideality
+which in part are completely contained in his work and in part were only
+fulfilled in the rapidly approaching Golden Age. He is aristocratic and
+individual, hence we shall consider him in connection with his fellow
+_intellectuel_, Leonardo da Vinci. Domenico Ghirlandaio,[45] on the
+contrary, is the most completely contented creature, imaginable. He
+never even dreamt of anything desirable beyond his Florence. He loved
+the local spectacle too dearly to represent it literally. He generally
+prettified it, more rarely he glorified it. Its mundane ideals were his.
+Towards its people, its young men and maidens and grave merchants and
+magistrates he brought, without Fra Filippo Lippi’s sensitiveness, an
+equal curiosity and admiration. And Florence fairly deserved the
+adoration of such a man as was he. Wisely and generously ruled by
+Lorenzo de’ Medici, who exemplified not merely the practical virtues of
+the city but also her more engaging vices, author of wise policy and of
+wittily dissolute songs; combining the self-respecting appearances of
+liberty with the advantages of benevolent despotism, abounding in new
+wealth, lavish in pleasure and spectacle, unrestrained by a religion
+which was becoming merely a social decency and a form of fire-insurance
+against a not impossible hell—Florence had reached a pitch of
+complacency and worldly well-being the like of which the world has
+perhaps never seen before or since. The menacing sword of the spirit was
+already swaying over it in the eloquence of a young Dominican monk at
+Ferrara. But Florence trod the primrose path unconscious of the doom at
+hand for her. And Ghirlandaio was present to immortalize everything that
+was pleasant in her short prime.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 121. Domenico Ghirlandaio. St. Jerome. Fresco.—_Ognissanti._
+]
+
+He was born in 1449, his father appropriately being a garland-maker for
+gay Florence. He was trained under Alesso Baldovinetti, but prudently
+declined to compromise his own bright coloring with the new technic of
+oil painting. He studied with profit the ornate narratives of Benozzo
+Gozzoli. One of his earliest frescoes, painted about 1470 in Ognissanti,
+already reveals the grounds of his later popularity. The vivid portraits
+of the Vespucci family so crowd about a Madonna of Pity as to make her
+seem quite secondary.
+
+Somewhat later he painted the legend of Santa Fina at San Gimignano.
+Here Gozzoli’s simpler vein is imitated, and the effect has a rusticity
+befitting the theme. Soon the _bottega_ at Florence flourished mightily.
+There were two younger brothers to help, and all commissions were
+executed with businesslike dispatch. About 1480 we find him once more
+painting for the Church of Ognissanti. His St. Jerome there, Figure 121,
+is a beautifully groomed old prelate in a wonderfully kept study. The
+Saint is caught in an interval of work, searching perhaps for the right
+Latin word to render the Hebrew text before him. He is grave and not too
+stern. The colors are vivid without much regard for harmony. Very little
+of the fire of the missionary who declined to subject the mysteries of
+God to the rules of the grammarian Donatus is suggested. One has only to
+look at Botticelli’s St. Augustine, opposite in the church, agonized by
+the burden of thought, to realize that Ghirlandaio has cared nothing for
+the psychology of his theme, but has given us any comfortable old
+Florentine scholar placidly occupied in his _scriptorium_.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 122. Ghirlandaio. The Last Supper. Fresco.—_Refectory,
+    Ognissanti._
+]
+
+A similar lack of emotional content mars the otherwise delightful Last
+Supper, Figure 122, which was painted that same year for the refectory
+of Ognissanti. Pathos, not to say tragedy, is carefully kept out of the
+most solemn of scenes. The eye is likely to go first to the tree-tops
+and flying birds seen above the screen, then it becomes vaguely aware of
+a gentle company quietly feasting. Except for a faint trace of
+classicism in the costumes, it could be any governing board of any
+religious confraternity of the day, decorously enjoying its annual
+dinner. The qualities and defects of Ghirlandaio are fully apparent in
+this fresco—his lucidity and sweetness, his emotional nullity.
+
+The next year, 1481, Ghirlandaio painted in the Sistine Chapel at Rome
+Christ Calling Peter and Andrew. We have already considered this his
+nearest approach to monumental design. Shortly before the Roman trip he
+married, and when his wife Costanza died, after a decent interval, he
+repeated the adventure. The two wedlocks were blessed by nine children
+of whom one, Ridolfo, was to become in turn a notable painter. Such
+fecundity was worthy of the man who once sighed for a commission to
+fresco the seven-mile circuit of the walls of Florence. On his return
+from Rome Ghirlandaio decorated the great hall of the Palace of the
+Priors, and from now on merely a list of his commissions and patrons
+would be a blue book of the old aristocracy and new wealth of Florence.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 123. Domenico Ghirlandaio. Miracle of the Spini Boy.
+    Fresco.—_Trinità._
+]
+
+Thus in 1485 he contracted with Francesco Sassetti to do a chapel in the
+Trinità with Stories of St. Francis. Sassetti was confidential treasurer
+for Lorenzo the Magnificent, about the most important financial position
+in the world at the moment; a selfmade and ambitious man. He had tried
+in vain to get a finer chapel in a bigger church, but the patrician
+vested interests prevented. Still the chapel to the right of the Choir
+of the Trinità was no mean place, this Vallombrosan foundation being one
+of the oldest in Florence. Ghirlandaio took special pains with the
+frescoes, studying with intelligence Giotto’s famous versions of the
+stories at Santa Croce. He is most nearly monumental where he follows
+Giotto, as in the Death of St. Francis, but he also shows surprising
+felicities of his own. The scene where Pope Honorius III constitutes St.
+Francis and his fellows a monastic order, is remarkable for not only
+fine incidental portraiture, but for a nobility of space composition
+faintly anticipating Raphael. One scarcely realizes the subject as such.
+All the dramatic features with which Giotto emphasized the eagerness of
+the saint, the humility of his companions, the professional dignity of
+the Pope and the half-veiled hostility of the papal court are absent.
+One’s eyes go over the group to the familiar grandiose prospect of the
+Piazza della Signoria at Florence, and one feels that never till now has
+he rightly apprehended its amplitude and splendor. Then there are sharp
+pleasant surprises. At the left is the ugly and fascinating figure of
+Lorenzo de’ Medici and behind him the gross apparition of Francesco
+Sassetti himself. And in front there are people coming up from a lower
+level, only their heads and shoulders emerging. The swarthy man who
+leads is Angelo Poliziano, greatest of humanistic poets, tutor of
+Lorenzo’s sons. And the boys are these gifted children destined to be
+popes, and granddukes. The combination of great spaciousness and
+centrality with casual unexpected graces is so piquant and original,
+that I suppose Ghirlandaio may have hit upon it almost accidentally,
+owing to the inevitable relations of his Gothic lunette to the
+architectural forms in the fresco. In any case Ghirlandaio never again
+did anything as impressive. It is his greatest hymn of praise to the
+Florence that he so dearly loved.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 124. Domenico Ghirlandaio. Adoration of the Magi.—_Innocenti._
+]
+
+In the same chapel is a remarkable picture representing the Piazza of
+the Trinità with St. Francis resuscitating a boy of the Spini family,
+Figure 123. It has extraordinary bits of invention, but lacks the
+organization of the fresco just discussed. The altar-piece for the
+chapel, an Adoration of the Shepherds, now in the Uffizi, represents the
+graciousness of Ghirlandaio in familiar narrative his willing acceptance
+of the panoramic richness of the age, and his exceptional power of
+portraiture in these rustics painted from himself and from members of
+the Sassetti family. The ruggedness of the characterization suggests
+Flemish painting. Ghirlandaio may well have been influenced by the great
+Nativity with Portraits which Hugo van der Goes sent down from Ghent, in
+1476, to the Hospital Church of Santa Maria Nuova.
+
+Ghirlandaio’s altar-pieces are many. They are brilliant without real
+harmony of color; pretty, without much insight, in the types of the
+Virgin and youthful saints. The most elaborate of these panels, An
+Adoration of the Magi, Figure 124, was finished in 1488 for the
+Foundling Hospital dedicated to the Massacred Innocents of Bethlehem. It
+still stands on its original altar in the chapel of the Innocenti, and
+is a radiant thing. The crowded group of adorers in the foreground is
+well knit together. Ghirlandaio had taken a shrewd look at Botticelli’s
+Epiphany (now at Petrograd), or at Leonardo da Vinci’s unfinished
+masterpiece. By a touching and appropriate invention, Ghirlandaio has
+set two of the martyred Innocents kneeling in white robes and crowned
+with a saint’s nimbus among the Wise Men. There are, as usual, many
+portraits, including Ghirlandaio’s own, by the pillar at the right. The
+deep river valley, suggested by northern paintings or engravings,
+relieves the somewhat congested character of the figure arrangement. The
+girlish Madonna would do no discredit to the front cover of a
+nation-wide periodical today. So gracious and ingenious is this picture
+that one regrets to note that it is rather cleverly staged than deeply
+felt, its manifold prettiness and picturesqueness, of a quite obvious
+character.
+
+As Ghirlandaio had moved from success to success, so he was destined to
+end in his day of highest glory. In 1485 he signed a contract with
+Giovanni Tornabuoni, of the old nobility, to decorate the choir of the
+most aristocratic church in Florence, Santa Maria Novella. The subjects,
+the Life of the Virgin and St. John the Baptist, were already on the
+wall in the guise of water-soaked and ruined frescoes by Andrea Orcagna.
+Ghirlandaio provided pastoral scenes with wide landscapes, city
+prospects with charming girls plentiful in foreground, rich patrician
+interiors with graceful women and their attendants making visits of
+ceremony, rare religious events with heavy magistrates and dignitaries
+standing inattentively by—everything in short that a prosperous and
+well-bred Florentine of the moment was accustomed to think desirable in
+beauty, gentleness, or worldly estate. Characteristic are the Salutation
+of Mary and Elizabeth, a picture in which the solemnity of the scene, so
+magnificently asserted by Giotto at Padua, slips away into mere
+spectacle and civility; the Birth of Saint John, Figure 125, with a
+young girl of the Tornabuoni family making her visit with her maids, and
+all manner of graceful and rich accessories; or again, the Presentation
+in The Temple, with a whole tribe of Tornabuonis and Ghirlandaios in
+negligent attendance on the sacred rite. These may stand for the whole.
+For their casual and mundane richness John Ruskin has poured upon these
+frescoes his double-distilled vials of wrath. What he says as to their
+superficiality and emptiness of religious feeling is true enough, yet
+his denunciatory rhetoric serves but as a trip-hammer to demolish an
+eggshell which has after all its iridescent frail beauty. Gentler
+methods are better with so gently mundane a creature as Ghirlandaio. The
+Lord’s people, as he saw them about him, were good enough for him and
+for his art. Criticism should rather insist that, being worldly, he was
+not worldly enough to be strong and lucid, but too readily had recourse
+to promiscuous richness and perfunctory ideals of prettiness. Still, it
+does not befit the age or race whose characteristic art product is the
+smiling or pensive girl on the cover of the popular magazine to throw
+the first stone at Domenico Ghirlandaio.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 125. Domenico Ghirlandaio. Birth of St. John.—_Santa Maria
+    Novella._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 126. Domenico Ghirlandaio. Old Man and Boy.—_Paris._
+]
+
+Whatever the verdict as to his nominally religious painting, in
+portraiture Ghirlandaio is one of the greatest figures of his time.
+Portraits of the finest qualities abound in his frescoes, and he has
+left a few incomparable things on panel. Few Renaissance portraits have
+the authority of the amazing old man, Figure 126, in the Louvre, who
+fondles an adoring boy. In this picture, deformity becomes a grace, and
+the spiritual and material interpretation are of equal incisiveness and
+beauty. As fine in another vein is the profile of Giovanna degli Albizzi
+in the J. P. Morgan Collection, Figure 101. It is dated in 1488. It is
+the supreme portrait of a Florentine beauty of a passing and lovely
+moment. An instant of time, when the old simplicity had enriched itself
+with new learning; when with the new humanism the tournament and court
+of love persisted; when courtly manners had become an ideal without
+freezing into an official code—all this is for a sensitive and informed
+observer in this placid well-poised head of an ill-starred Florentine
+bride. She died in 1488, a little before the overthrow of the Florence
+she typifies. Her accomplished young husband, Lorenzo Tornabuoni,
+equally adequate in the tilt yard, the study, or the council hall, lived
+on for nine years and shared the death agony of the society of which he
+was a chief ornament. When his head fell under Savonarola’s orders, a
+splendid chapter of early Florentine humanism closed. Thus these young
+people died with their Florence, leaving no descendants, but a memory
+eternally fragrant.
+
+The year of Giovanna’s death, 1488, Ghirlandaio, being thirty-nine years
+old, took a new wife, and continued diligently at the frescoes of Santa
+Maria Novella. Not being overburdened with imagination, he probably
+never guessed he was occupied with a memorial of a society already
+doomed. Doubtless he followed the fashionable throng to San Marco where
+for a year Fra Girolamo Savonarola had been preaching against the
+current vanities. Ghirlandaio presumably approved the oratory, with a
+comfortable sense that while unworldliness might very properly be
+preached, no sensible city could ever be induced to practice it. Perhaps
+he never woke up to the appalling fact that Savonarola literally meant
+business both evangelically and politically.
+
+So Ghirlandaio’s Florence moved swiftly to its doom, and the while he
+saved much of its look and grace on the walls of his choir. For a year a
+touchy and ugly little boy who carried the disproportionately great name
+of Michelangelo Buonarotti scrambled discontentedly about the
+scaffolding of the choir, lending a hand here and there, and learning
+the old art of fresco painting. Ghirlandaio of course never knew that in
+the restless apprentice he was training a titan. He probably thought him
+a nuisance. By the end of 1493 the frescoes of the Virgin and St. John
+the patron of Florence were nearly finished, and the altar-piece, an
+Assumption, was already planned. At forty-four Ghirlandaio had at once
+reached his climax and painted himself down an anachronism. Of course he
+didn’t know it; such self-knowledge is mercifully spared us. The luck of
+Ghirlandaio was extraordinarily constant. Nowhere is it more signally
+shown than in the date of his death. Some inkling that things were going
+ill under Piero de’ Medici’s fitful rule must have come to him, but he
+died in January 1494, a good ten months before the Medici were expelled,
+their palaces sacked, and Savonarola in charge of a Florence terrified
+into sobriety.
+
+To those painters from Fra Filippo to Ghirlandaio who caught the look
+and unpretentious poetry of Medicean Florence we owe an especial
+gratitude. They are not in the direct line of progress and they none of
+them reached the heights of art. But for centuries they have never
+failed to give delightful information, while infallibly touching average
+human sympathies. We do ill to idolize them, for they were after all
+rather small men, but we do well also to honor them according to their
+accomplishment. They did their particular task of enlivening decoration
+with illustrative episodes, with tact, refinement and knowledge; with
+all the sympathy of the modestly observant eye. Most of their work had
+to be undone before the Grand Style was possible, but it all evinces the
+vitality and variety without which as preliminary training the Grand
+Style itself could hardly have attained its elaborate and strictly
+ordered composure. We do well to take Vasari’s general view of these
+artists of the human spectacle—not considering them so much as weak
+links in a mighty chain, but as complete in themselves, as a youth may
+be complete even though the young man dies in the glory of his
+unfolding. Why expect prematurely the sedate splendors of middle age?
+Take then this art for what it offers—an unsystematic fairy land which
+is yet half real, and keep your higher standards in reserve for artists
+who better deserve them. For austere standards are held by a truly
+civilized person for purposes of discriminate praise and not as a ready
+means of promiscuous blame.
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER I
+
+
+                       PAGEANTRY IN OLD FLORENCE
+
+  The art of Gozzoli and the _cassone_ painters, and, in part, that of
+  Filippo Lippi and Ghirlandaio implies the background of public
+  pageantry at Florence. There is a precious piece of old doggerel which
+  describes the festivities, in May 1459, for the reception of Pope Pius
+  II and Gian Galeazzo Sforza, Duke of Milan. The palaces and churches
+  were completely hung with rich stuffs, the sumptuary laws were
+  suspended in favor of the fair sex; besides many processions and
+  feasts, there was bear baiting in the Piazza della Signoria, an all
+  night open-air ball in the Mercato Nuovo, and a tournament in the
+  Piazza di Santa Croce. I paraphrase the verses which describe the
+  pageant of a Triumph of Love which was conducted by ten year old
+  Lorenzo de’ Medici. The subject is common in _cassoni_ and _deschi da
+  parto_. The boy Lorenzo mounted on a marvellously caparisoned horse
+  headed the pageant, and while all the people whispered their
+  admiration—
+
+  “As prudent and wise lad he conducted the Triumph of the God of
+  Love.... In all triumph he made Cupid come, who so gently smites the
+  gentle heart. Upon a car I saw him, and so I tell, most marvellously
+  adorned and wrought, how it was made I dare not say. On four wheels it
+  was finely adorned with a raised stand and fixed on every corner
+  thereof as a column the form and fashion of an angel. And I who saw it
+  thought of a castle. Upon the four columns was a great ball and above
+  it another ornamented piece. This was gilded everywhere ... so that it
+  sparkled like the sun. I cannot tell of such beauties, but I can tell
+  about the top part which was most delightful. Above all ... I saw
+  stand a youth, with two great wings of many colors on his shoulders
+  and all the rest nude, holding that bow with which he wounds all
+  hearts, and playfully puts venom therein, so that while burning
+  within, nothing shows without. This Triumph so marvellous and so
+  invested with colors, its adornment very glorious—with so many pearls,
+  carbuncles and sapphires—I couldn’t reckon how many florins that
+  Triumph was worth I say.”
+
+  The whole poem is a real treasure of such lore and should be
+  translated. It is found in the new edition of Muratori, _Rerum
+  Italicarum Scriptores_, Tom. XXVII. The quotation is from page 31,
+  lines 1330–1363.
+
+
+                       THE PROCESSION OF THE MAGI
+
+  On St. John’s Day, 1354, Matteo Palmieri tells us in his _Annals_,
+  there were many religious representations of which the most
+  interesting to us, as a probable inspirer of Gozzoli’s frescoes, is
+  that of the Three Kings from the East. There was—
+
+  “A magnificent and triumphant temple for the habitation [stage
+  setting] of the Magi, in which was inclosed an octagonal temple
+  adorned with the seven Virtues, and on the east side the Virgin with
+  the New Born Christ. [Probably figures in a tableau vivant]
+
+  “The three Magi with a cavalcade of more than 200 horse adorned with
+  many splendors came to make offerings to the New Born Christ.”
+
+  New ed. of Muratori, Tom. XXII, p. 173.
+
+  Probably all the artists mentioned in this chapter saw these two
+  splendid pageants and many more. Such sights count for much in the
+  alert and profusely ornamented painting of the fifteenth century.
+
+
+                            PAGEANTS IN 1466
+
+  Piero de’ Medici “in order to give men something to think about which
+  should take their thoughts from the state, and a year having passed
+  since Cosimo had died, seized the occasion to enliven the city and
+  ordered two elaborate celebrations, following the others that are
+  customary in that city. One which represented, when the three Kings,
+  the Magi, came from the East behind the star which showed the birth of
+  Christ; the which was of such pomp and so magnificent, that in
+  arranging and holding it the entire city was occupied for several
+  months.”
+
+  Machiavelli, _Istorie fiorentine_, Lib. VII, cap. xii.
+
+  “The other [festival, Machiavelli continues] was a tournament (for so
+  they used to call a spectacle, which represented a cavalry skirmish)
+  where the first youths of the city exercised themselves against the
+  most famous knights of Italy; and among the young men of Florence the
+  most in repute was Lorenzo, first-born son of Piero, who not by favor,
+  but by his own valor carried off the first honours.”
+
+  Lorenzo was then a likely lad of seventeen.
+
+
+                 A SIDE-LIGHT ON GHIRLANDAIO’S PATRONS
+
+             _A Trick for getting a Family Chapel in 1488_
+
+  The choir of Santa Maria Novella was under the patronage of the Ricci
+  family, but they were poor and had been unable to repair the
+  waterstained frescoes of Orcagna, which had been painted a century and
+  a quarter earlier. So Giovanni Tornabuoni got permission to redecorate
+  the chapel on condition of setting the Ricci arms “in the most
+  conspicuous and honourable place in that chapel.” And so the contract
+  was drawn. Domenico Ghirlandaio actually set the Tornabuoni arms in
+  huge scale on the side pilasters, whereas he painted the Ricci arms
+  half a foot high on the door of the ciborium in the centre of the base
+  of his altar-piece. The rest in Vasari’s words (de Vere’s translation,
+  Vol. III, p. 224):
+
+  “And a fine jest it was at the opening of the chapel, for these Ricci
+  looked for their arms with much ado, and finally, not being able to
+  find them, went off to the Tribunal of Eight, contract in hand.
+  Whereupon the Tornabuoni showed that these arms had been placed in the
+  most conspicuous and honourable part of the work; and although the
+  others exclaimed that they were invisible, they were told that they
+  were in the wrong, and that they must be content, since the Tornabuoni
+  had caused them to be placed in so honourable a position as the
+  neighborhood of the most Holy Sacrament. And so it was decided by that
+  tribunal that they should be left untouched, as they may be seen
+  today. Now, if this should appear to anyone to be outside the scope of
+  the Life that I have to write, let him not be vexed, for it all flowed
+  naturally from the tip of my pen. And it should serve, if for nothing
+  else, at least to show how easily poverty falls a prey to riches, and
+  how riches, if accompanied by discretion, achieve without censure
+  anything that a man desires.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 127. Leonardo da Vinci. Cartoon of Madonna and St.
+    Ann.—_Burlington House, London._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+        DAWN OF THE GOLDEN AGE: BOTTICELLI AND LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+  Leonardo da Vinci as assimilator of the Realistic reforms—Botticelli
+      as reactionary—His beginnings under Fra Filippo and
+      Pollaiuolo—Height of his realistic achievement in Adoration of the
+      Magi—Assertion of his fantastic vein in the Primavera—The Dante
+      drawings and the distraught style of the later works, its æsthetic
+      value—Minor Eccentrics: Filippino Lippi—Piero di Cosimo—Leonardo
+      da Vinci, his gradual advance towards Chiaroscuro method, his
+      ideals—His work with Verrocchio—The Adoration of the Kings, its
+      disciplined richness—Cartoon of St. Ann—First Madonna of the
+      Rocks—Leonardo at Milan. The Last Supper—At Florence again. The
+      Battle Cartoon. Mona Lisa—Second Sojourn at Milan. The St. Ann,
+      his influence—At Rome, in France and the end—Leonardo’s successors
+      at Florence; Fra Bartolommeo— Andrea del Sarto—Agnolo
+      Bronzino—Pontormo—Decline of Florentine independence and of the
+      School.
+
+
+The task before an ambitious young Florentine artist about 1475 was one
+of assimilation. Pretty much all the knowledge essential for the new
+painting existed, but in scattered shape. Masaccio had modernized
+Giotto’s monumental patterns, and had found for himself the new
+structural values of light and shade. Domenico Veneziano had introduced
+the handier method of oil painting, and, with Piero della Francesca, had
+attempted novel refinements in paler tonalities. He and Paolo Uccello
+had worked out the mysteries of linear perspective. Andrea del Castagno
+had achieved a systematic and learned anatomy. Antonio Pollaiuolo had
+added to this an extraordinary knowledge of the human body in violent
+action. Andrea Verrocchio had demonstrated that these realistic
+strivings were compatible with grace. It had occurred to no one to
+combine all these discoveries until Leonardo da Vinci reached his early
+maturity. The synthesis worked out by him between 1480 and 1498, the
+dates of his unfinished Adoration of the Kings and Last Supper
+respectively, is the foundation on which Raphael built. Leonardo da
+Vinci is the pioneer of the Golden Age.
+
+It will help us to realize the greatness of his accomplishment to study
+first the career of a contemporary and friend, the exquisite artist,
+Sandro Botticelli. Botticelli, like Leonardo, came under the spell of
+Verrocchio’s fastidiousness, and went some distance in the direction of
+the new monumental beauty. Then abruptly he turned aside along solitary
+lines quite unprecedented, but akin to the mystic past of Siena. His
+great refusal of progress, his broken and eccentric career, give point
+to the humanistic centrality and social authority of Leonardo’s
+painting. The two men represent opposite escapes from the superficial
+brilliance of the art dominated by Ghirlandaio. Leonardo moved out
+towards the future, and has lived on as a fine inspiration of academic
+painting ever since. Botticelli withdrew into himself, and has survived
+flickeringly in the occasional admiration of kindred spirits. Both
+express, if in very different fashion, the profound discontent that
+preluded a new era of art. It will help us to perceive how great
+Botticelli is in his solitary poetry, to consider two younger
+contemporaries, Filippino Lippi, his pupil, and Piero di Cosimo, an
+intelligent imitator of Leonardo, both of whom, sharing Botticelli’s
+discontent, also sought escape in self-assertiveness of an eccentric
+sort. As the modern age begins to dawn, the modern temperamental artist
+appears. The _bottega_ begins to be a studio. Thus Sandro Botticelli[46]
+has a double importance for us—as an exquisite artist, and even more as
+the first individualist who strained sorely at the bounds imposed by the
+collective taste, required a select public, and painted to please
+himself.
+
+There is nothing of this romantic isolation in his origins. He was born
+a tanner’s son, in 1444, and brought up in the smiling country towards
+Careggi. At thirteen he was still at school, hence was better educated
+than the average painter. Soon he was put with a goldsmith, very likely
+his brother Antonio, whose nickname—Il Botticello, the cask,
+paradoxically attached itself to the creator of the Primavera. Before
+his fifteenth year, 1459, young Botticelli was apprenticed to Fra
+Filippo Lippi, the most sensitive eye of the time. Young Botticelli
+presumably painted on the later frescoes at Prato, and I believe may
+have been permitted to design certain of the figures in The Feast of
+Herod. Two early pictures of the Adoration of the Kings, both in the
+National Gallery, London, show us how whole-heartedly Botticelli adopted
+his master’s discursive style, how sedulously he sought variety and
+richness of gesture and facial expression. But these crowded
+compositions lack Fra Filippo’s direct geniality. They are already
+imagined before they are observed. Fra Filippo went to Spoleto some time
+before 1468 and soon died there. So Botticelli was perhaps on his own
+resources from his twenty-fourth year, though he was not inscribed in
+the Company of St. Luke till 1472. What is certain is that he was
+fortifying himself by imitation of far more strenuous artists than his
+master. The delicate incisiveness of Verrocchio appears as an occasional
+inspiration, the rugged power of Antonio Pollaiuolo dominates his
+pictorial expression for many years.
+
+A group of early pictures shows strikingly the interplay of realistic
+influences with the assertion of his own originality. The delicately
+expressive Madonna, Figure 128, in Mrs. John L. Gardner’s collection, is
+based on Filippo Lippi’s Madonna in the Uffizi, Figure 103. The general
+arrangement is the same. But what a change in feeling! All the overt
+picturesque relations which Fra Filippo loved—the girlish Virgin praying
+to her child, the chubby baby clutching at its mother, the impish angel
+grinning out of the picture—all that is eliminated. The Virgin wistfully
+reaches for the ear of wheat signifying her Son’s body that must be
+broken. A well-grown, reverent angel, enigmatically smiling, offers the
+grapes and wheat, symbols of the sacrament. The relation is between the
+Madonna and this mysterious acolyte. Their consciousness of a prophetic
+rite gains emphasis and pathos from the only unconscious thing in the
+picture, the graceful babyish action of the Divine Child. The forms of
+mother and Child are those of Filippo Lippi, but with elimination of
+superfluous ornament and commonplace action. The reserved,
+half-concealed smile of the angel and his strange beauty derive from
+Andrea Verrocchio. You may trace it from his youthful David to his
+disciple’s Mona Lisa. The date of the picture is merely a good guess,
+but since it is free from the influence of Pollaiuolo, it may be before
+1469.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 128. Botticelli. Chigi Madonna.—_Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 130. Botticelli. Judith.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+In that year the brothers Pollaiuolo undertook the painting of seven
+figures of the Virtues to decorate the wainscot behind the magistrates’
+bench in the Mercanzia, the mercantile court. Evidently they were
+pressed for time, for they assigned one panel representing Fortitude,
+Figure 129, to Botticelli. John Ruskin has celebrated in eloquent phrase
+this frail embodiment of the courage of the mind. “Worn, somewhat, and
+not a little weary; instead of standing ready for all comers, she is
+sitting—apparently in revery; her fingers playing restlessly and
+idly—nay, I think, even nervously about the hilt of her sword. For her
+battle is not to begin today, nor did it begin yesterday. Many a morn
+and even have passed since it began, and now—is this to be the ending of
+it? And if this—by what manner of end?”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 129. Botticelli. Fortitude.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+The passage beautifully illustrates the odd blend of purest insight and
+casual chatter in Ruskin’s criticism. Forget that the sword is a
+mace—Ruskin is never right in such trifles. Fortitude sits merely
+because her sister Virtues do so in the imposed decorative scheme. The
+nervous action of the hands is chiefly an elegance. Yet the whole
+characterization expresses with singular felicity the alert and
+thoughtful charm of this Fortitude amid the stolid effigies of Antonio
+and Piero Pollaiuolo. Ruskin, as often, is most wrong where it least
+matters. We have more prosaic business with the Fortitude—to note the
+pouting snub-nosed type, and the elaborate ornaments, which are Fra
+Filippo’s, the solidly drawn but ill-shapen foot, which is Pollaiuolo’s,
+and the sensitiveness, which is Botticelli’s own.
+
+A still more complete assimilation of Pollaiuolo’s energetic mode is
+revealed in the admirable little Judith, Figure 130, which must have
+been painted towards 1475. The faces are still Fra Filippo’s, and he
+could have invented the eager doglike obsequiousness of the maid. But
+the springy action and the fine, lean ankles and feet, the bony,
+expressive wrists and hands, the minutely featured landscape, are
+completely in Pollaiuolo’s vein. Botticelli’s specific invention is the
+sublimation of the theme—Judith’s sense of walking in a dream after the
+unspeakable ordeal of the night. And the flutter of the robes in the
+clean morning wind has a stylistic grace that amounts to Sandro’s
+signature.
+
+As he came into his thirty-fifth year, 1478, Botticelli painted two
+pictures so different that without conclusive evidence we should hardly
+believe them the work of a single mind and hand. The Adoration of the
+Kings, Figure 131, with the sturdy Medici portraits, sums up all
+Botticelli’s realistic achievement, shows him the greatest and most
+typical Florentine master of the moment, and proves that his way was
+easy to such triumphs of popularity as Ghirlandaio was soon to enjoy
+uncontested. The other picture, The Allegory of Spring, evinces a
+strange and to many repellant originality, indulges dreams not of this
+earth, appeals to experiences inaccessible save to the æsthetically
+elect. It was an earnest of neglect and unpopularity, the opening of a
+solitary road that no artist would travel save under inner imperious
+impulsion.
+
+The Adoration of the Kings is composed after the fashion of Fra Filippo
+and rendered with all the improvements of Pollaiuolo. The group of the
+Mother, Child and Joseph is set high and well back, the minutely drawn
+ruin, with its grace of wall-flowers, and the peacock on the ruined edge
+of the masonry are again pure Fra Filippo, as are the juvenile charm of
+Our Lady and the alertness of the Bambino. In Fra Filippo’s best style,
+too, are the flanking groups of portraits which swing back towards the
+central motive, leaving the centre free. Here are great personnages set
+forth with dignity and force. Masaccio also has counted for much in
+these portraits, and Antonio Pollaiuolo for more. The Mage kneeling by
+the Child is Piero de’ Medici, the one in front with his back turned is
+Cosimo. The beautiful young king addressing him is probably Giuliano,
+lately slain by the Pazzi conspirators. Lorenzo is unmistakable at the
+left with his proud military pose, his hands resting on a great sword.
+At the right, robed in yellow, is the fine manly figure of Botticelli
+himself. There are many other portraits of the most authoritative
+accent, but we have no means of identifying them.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 131. Botticelli. Adoration of the Magi.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Artistically this magnificent little picture suffers from two centres of
+interest. It is an ambiguity, however, that would have troubled no
+contemporary Florentine. He was willing to take the sacred group for
+granted and to gaze delightedly at the figures of his rulers and
+benefactors. In technical expression the picture is established through
+light, shade, and color, its linear quality counting for rather little
+in the effect. It is a logical and attractive combination of all the
+realistic experiments of fifty years past, no single feature being
+over-emphasized. It is prose of a most convincing and eloquent cadence.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 132. Botticelli. Primavera—Allegory of Spring.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Before turning to a picture which is all poetry, the Primavera, we may
+profitably consider Botticelli’s portrait, the robust body, the moody
+sensual face. He was a celibate. One need not espouse the vagaries of a
+Freud to know that such men, when gifted with imagination, dream strange
+dreams. The Primavera, Figure 132, was painted for the Medici Villa of
+Castello, where later Botticelli placed his Birth of Venus and
+Signorelli his Pan as God of Music. All these pictures represent that
+sudden homesickness for the idyllic scenes of classical antiquity which
+fell upon the Italian world about this time. The _cassone_ painters,
+working for work-a-day people, had represented the mythologies as so
+many jolly stories. For the deeply cultured circle of the Medici, these
+retrospections were fraught with sadness. The life where the gods moved
+among alluring nymphs and amusing fauns seemed infinitely far off and
+infinitely desirable. Through Horace and Virgil and Theocritus one could
+glimpse it tantalizingly. Modern poets, like Angelo Poliziano, could
+recover it faintly in Greek and Latin, or more rarely in Italian verse.
+But the Italian loves to see, and here was the difficulty. The brown
+soil had not yet yielded up the great store of old marbles. The actual
+look of the bygone Golden Age, which within half a century was to become
+matter of archæological certainty, was now matter of hesitant intuition.
+One could brood over the old poets, arrange masques in which lightly
+robed Tuscan girls played the nymph or goddess—whatever expedient was
+used to live oneself back, the visual ingredients of the dream were
+inevitably local and Tuscan. Such pictures as the Primavera represent
+this transient and appealing mood. They tremble with unfulfilled
+aspirations, breathe exquisite nostalgias, perpetuate as no other
+records do the very soul of the humanists that surrounded Lorenzo the
+Magnificent.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 133. Botticelli. Primavera. Detail. Venus, Flora, Spring,
+    Zephyr.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+For the fundamental decorative arrangement of the picture, white forms
+swaying before a vertical paling, Botticelli skilfully borrowed the
+motive of Pollaiuolo’s engraving, the Ten Nudes. Figure 109. From
+Pollaiuolo, too, come the nervous contours, the wiry ankles, and slender
+feet, and the curiously sprung knees. The old poets Lucretius and Horace
+give just the hint for the persons of the idyl. Lucretius tells of the
+coming of Spring blown in by the West wind, of Flora strewing flowers
+before, Figure 133, with Venus and her son as witnesses. And Horace
+tells how the three graces with ungirt robes dance before Mercury. But
+Botticelli has contributed what gives the work its penetrating, sad
+charm. His is the gloomy screen of orange trees and olives, the carpet
+of spring flowers, the billowing lines that sweep across the panel. It
+is conceived in two great rhythms of motion. The wave that is suave in
+playful Spring becomes crisp and sharp in the robe of Flora, and is
+nearly arrested in the heavy drapery of Venus, it passes with her raised
+hand to the shimmering veil of the dancing Graces, and dies in the
+firmly set form of Mercury, whose uplifted arm carries the movement into
+the steady background, which stabilizes it all. Even to mention the
+particular finesses and beauties of this fantastically lovely scene
+would require an essay. I have made a fuller if very imperfect analysis
+in my book, “Estimates in Art.” Now it is best to note merely that the
+only joyous forms are Zephyrus, Spring and Cupid, the rest are sad or
+enigmatically grave, as is Flora. Though they celebrate the renewal of
+life through love in springtime, those whose immortality has witnessed
+many springs carry in their faces and bearing the old knowledge that
+life and love are constantly reborn under death sentence, and that what
+is renewed spring after spring has but
+
+                   “The frail duration of a flower.”
+
+Again and again the poets have told this to unregarding man. Nobody has
+made it visible save Botticelli.
+
+I suppose only a score of people at the time knew how fine the Primavera
+was, and a few hundred in the world today may know it. The thing was
+hidden from the public, and Botticelli was painting himself into the
+most obscure sort of glory. In his remaining thirty-two years, there are
+a few reversions to his realistic vein, but his most characteristic
+works merely carry on the recondite charm, the acute and personal
+rhythms of the Primavera.
+
+In 1480 was painted the Faust-like figure of St. Augustine. Figure 134.
+One feels in the gnarled features and hand clutching the breast the
+burden of lifelong meditation on the terrible mysteries of free will and
+God’s eternal decrees. It is the effigy of one who has agonized in
+thought, and is still seeking by that Calvary of the mind a tense and
+hazardous peace.
+
+The next year Botticelli went to Rome to take charge of the decoration
+of the Sistine Chapel. We have already considered his best fresco there,
+Moses in Midian. Figure 114. Of the two others—the Temptation of Christ,
+and the Destruction of Korah—we need only add that they are immensely
+rich in details, effective as narratives, and as decorative arrangements
+surpassed on the Sistine walls only by Signorelli and Perugino.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 134. Botticelli. St. Augustine. Fresco.—_Ognissanti._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 135. Botticelli. Madonna with six Angels.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+There are rare moments of something like serenity in Botticelli’s
+troubled career. One was when he painted the Pallas and the Centaur, and
+another when he designed the loveliest of his round panels, the Madonna
+with Six Angels, in the Uffizi, Figure 135. Unlike the more famous and
+popular Magnificat, it is in immaculate preservation. The composition is
+subtler and less obvious, the worn and burdened look of the Madonna
+oppressed by her tragic fate, more specific and appealing. The late
+Herbert P. Horne, Botticelli’s best biographer, sets the picture about
+1487. About the same time were done those nuptial frescoes for Lorenzo
+Tornabuoni and his bride, Giovanna degli Albizzi. Torn from the villa
+walls at Careggi, they are now among the treasures of the Louvre.
+Lorenzo is represented as received by the seven liberal arts, Giovanna
+as presented to Venus by the Graces. We have seen in the last chapter
+how these young people shared and illustrated the doom impending over
+Medicean Florence. Botticelli captures, if not their look, at least a
+fine symbol for their as yet unchallenged beauty and discretion.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 136. Botticelli. Birth of Venus.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+A little earlier perhaps he added to the Primavera at Castello the Birth
+of Venus, Figure 136. It is conceived in the same bold rhythms, which
+this time converge on the slight, smooth form of Venus and are steadied
+by the horizon and the trees. Compared with the Primavera, the whole
+thing is less rich, varied and naturalistic. Everything is more
+schematic and conventional; gold is freely used without realistic
+pretext. The wistful mood is still that of the Primavera. Venus comes to
+earth with no joyous expectation. She glimpses unfulfilled desires, the
+eternally deferred goal of earthly love. She obeys a destiny with
+resignation and a pensive humility—almost asks pardon for the confusion
+she is fated to produce among mortals. These involutions and refinements
+have nothing to do with the whole-souled sensuousness of classical
+antiquity, they have everything to do with that scrupulous balancing of
+divine and earthly love which was the standing problem of the
+Neo-Platonists surrounding Lorenzo the Magnificent.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 137. Botticelli. Dante and Beatrice in Paradise.—_Print Room,
+    Berlin._
+]
+
+During the ’80s Botticelli was much occupied with the illustration of a
+great manuscript of the “Divine Comedy.” Figure 137. These outlines in
+silverpoint retouched with the pen find their equals only in the best
+Far Eastern art. The line whips and dances and swirls across the
+parchment, halting and turning to define a detail, then speeding anew on
+its task of suggesting motion. Figures that float, groups that march or
+dance as one, trailing smoke of incense—these volatile features are
+rendered with the most energetic delicacy. And the most incredible
+episodes of Dante’s poem gain credence with the eye through the deftest
+use of the pure line. It hardens to suggest bone and sinew, tightens to
+express joints that bear weight and preserve balance, loosens and
+gallops to give the flutter of drapery over twinkling limbs. And all
+this is done with a thin pen line that hardly changes thickness or
+blackness—done with a touch as light as a feather and yet as firm as the
+swing of a draughtsman’s compass. The study of such drawings is a
+liberal education in the æsthetics of pure line.
+
+These drawings freely distort the actual forms for the sake of greater
+expressiveness. Such distortion is the characteristic mark of
+Botticelli’s latest style. One may note it in the furniture panels which
+tell the story of St. Zenobius and the tragic lot of the Roman heroines,
+Lucretia and Virginia; in the Annunciation of the Uffizi and the Last
+Communion of St. Jerome, in the Metropolitan Museum. The new manner is
+characterized by habitually vehement expression. Intensity becomes
+morbid, effective withal. We have to do with tortured but very fine
+nerves. What personal history is involved we can merely surmise. We
+know, however, that Botticelli followed eagerly the theocratic
+revolution of Savonarola and suffered deep chagrin when the attempt to
+make Florence a city of God collapsed amid sordid political jealousies.
+His art becomes that of a _Piagnone_, a Savonarolist, a contemner of the
+careless world. His method changes. The figures are unmodelled and flat,
+they hurtle wildly and glisten metallically before airless landscapes.
+Most of the hard-won Florentine realisms drop out, and the linear
+rhythms recall the Gothic poignancy of Simone Martini.
+
+Perhaps the finest picture of this sort is the Calumny of Apelles,
+Figure 138, painted about 1490, and now in the Uffizi. It recreates
+after an anecdote of Lucian, made current by Leonbattista Alberti, a
+lost masterpiece by Apelles, which was painted to convince Alexander the
+Great of the evil of calumny. An innocent prisoner is haled before an
+ignorant judge. Calumny bearing a torch drags him by the hair. Treachery
+and Deceit act as her tiring maids. The sordid figure of Envy is her
+guide to a judge into whose asses’ ears Ignorance and Suspicion whisper
+their counsels. Naked Truth pleads in vain for the victim as Remorse
+turns to her with sullen helplessness. By a pictorial irony, the
+sinister whirling group is set in a stately court adorned with statues
+of magnanimous heroes of old, and one glimpses through the rich arches a
+cloudless sky and an untroubled sea. Very rich in imaginative content,
+ornate in its use of color and gold, sharp and definite in its rhythms,
+discreet in its expressive distortions, this is perhaps the masterpiece
+of Botticelli’s late style.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 138. Botticelli. The Calumny of Apelles.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+But one regards with surely almost pleasure and with more lively
+sympathy the little Nativity in the National Gallery, Figure 139, a
+celestial idyl in sentiment, and of greatest beauty of muted coloring.
+Above the shed where the Virgin Mother worships her Divine Child, a
+dancing ring of angels hovers. They hold olive branches from which
+depend martyrs’ crowns. Wreathed shepherds, figures from some Theocritan
+idyl, kneel outside the shed. Below, angels eagerly embrace three
+youthful crowned figures, while impish baffled fiends lurk in crevices
+of the rocks. The three figures may well typify Savonarola and his two
+fellow-martyrs. A Greek inscription gives the date of 1500 and hints at
+the fall of Savonarola and the shame of the French invasion. There is a
+tenderness about the picture that recalls the Primavera, but it is more
+elusive and unearthly, more implicit in every bit of the workmanship
+itself than dependent on explicit symbolism.
+
+What Botticelli could achieve in stark tragedy at this time is shown in
+the Piet of the Munich gallery, a masterpiece which many critics have
+quite unaccountably ascribed to an inferior imitator. It is of
+tremendous effect. The compressing rocks seem to confine a grief too
+great to be liberated in space. A shudder concentrates itself upon the
+fair, youthful body of the dead Christ. One assists at a cosmic
+mourning, the intolerable tension of which is mercifully relieved in the
+swooning form of the Mother of Sorrows. The colors are sombre, the whole
+effect fairly sculptural, though mass is attained more by linear accents
+than by systematic light and shade. Balance and pose obey not a law of
+physics but one of feeling.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 139. Botticelli. Mystical Nativity.—_London._
+]
+
+The picture may be one of Botticelli’s latest. He lived on till 1510, a
+lonely and indulged eccentric. He witnessed the youthful triumphs of
+Raphael and Michelangelo at Florence, and saw the superb maturity of his
+friend Leonardo da Vinci. He saw the artistic world move away from
+himself towards ideals of gravity and decorum and disciplined
+monumentality. He could have followed that high road himself. Instead he
+had sought a romantic self-expression leading to an _impasse_. At least
+he had made the _impasse_ singularly thrilling. Being a wag as well as a
+poet, he had his compensations for neglect and doubtless he never
+regretted his impolitic choice. Among artists of febrile and romantic
+fibre he is one of the greatest. To know him thoroughly is an
+incomparable exercise in exquisite feeling.
+
+Taken in its social aspect, Botticelli’s later style is a protest
+against the current, superficial, narrative and decorative modes.
+Against prevailing successful commonplace, he opposes a highly refined
+idiosyncracy. While the more stolid artists of the end of the century
+were content to rework Ghirlandaio’s glittering vein, the more sensitive
+spirits sought distinction in eccentricity. Eccentricity appears
+whenever an old style has gone stale and a new one is imminent. It is
+the natural expression of souls too independent to conform and too weak
+to reconstruct. The grotesque was in the air. Luigi Pulci in the
+“Morgante Maggiore” burlesques the ideal romances of chivalry, and mixes
+the old clear categories of good and evil. Lorenzo de’ Medici at once
+mimics and caricatures the simplicity of the peasant pastorals. Cynicism
+runs riot in the short-story writers and in the new comedy. There is a
+confusion of standards, a new complexity of appreciation, that at once
+bewilders and allures delicate spirits. Thus they really express such a
+moment of hesitation better than stronger or more ordinary artists. So a
+Post-Impressionist of today may have a high symptomatic importance even
+though his art be null, and a Filippino Lippi and Piero di Cosimo really
+tell us more about the time-spirit than a Leonardo da Vinci.
+
+Filippino[47] was born in 1457, at Prato, and presumably received his
+first instruction from his father, Fra Filippo. At fifteen we find him
+an orphan and studying with Botticelli, whom he probably assisted at
+Rome in 1482. At twenty-seven, in 1484, he had the extraordinary honor
+of completing Masaccio’s frescoes in the Brancacci Chapel. Doubtless he
+had his great predecessor’s sketches to aid him. With a somewhat lighter
+accent, he imitated as he might Masaccio’s simple and massive
+construction in light and shade. Filippino’s Peter before the Proconsul,
+Figure 140, and Crucifixion of St. Peter are of a gravity and weight to
+have passed for Masaccio’s with good critics. But the fine portraits are
+distinctive for the later date, as are the portraits and the graceful
+kneeling boy painted opposite in the fresco left unfinished by Masaccio.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 140. Filippino Lippi. St. Peter before Nero. Detail of
+    Fresco.—_Brancacci Chapel._
+]
+
+As a work of pious assimilation, Filippino’s frescoes are amazing; all
+his more original work is so much falling-off from his beginnings. His
+characteristic sensitive prettiness may be best observed in the
+altar-piece in the Badia representing St. Bernard’s Vision of the
+Virgin. Figure 141. As he writes her praises, she approaches his desk
+escorted by eager angels. The scenic picturesqueness of the landscape,
+the accentuated prettiness of the faces are characteristic.
+Superficially like Botticelli, Filippino is less selective and always
+more sentimental. He is rudely shaken out of a mode in which he is
+attractive by the advent of the new giants of painting, Leonardo and
+Signorelli. In his last work, painted about 1502 for the Strozzi Chapel
+of Santa Maria Novella, he spends himself in superfluous and ineffective
+inventions,—trophies, archæological ornaments. To lend impressiveness
+and tragedy to the martyrdom of St. Philip and St. James, or to the
+miracle of Drusiana, Figure 142, he has recourse to hideous contortions
+of mouth and brows, to creaking joints and bursting muscles, to clamor
+and sensationalism of all sorts. It is the bankruptcy of the gentle
+spirit who only twenty years earlier had shown himself almost a great
+artist in the Carmine, and only ten years earlier had proved himself an
+accomplished decorator, at the Minerva, Rome. And the pity of this
+plunge into competitive and hopeless exhibitionism is that Filippino was
+a man of taste and character, a collector of classical antiques, an
+obliging and generous spirit. He died in 1504 at the moment when
+Leonardo da Vinci was planning a real and successful sensation for
+Florence, in The Fight for the Standard.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 141. Filippino Lippi. St. Bernard’s Vision.—_Badia._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 143. Piero di Cosimo. Primitive Man. Spalliera
+    panel.—_Metropolitan Museum, N. Y._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 142. Filippino Lippi. Raising of Drusiana by St. John.—_S. M.
+    Novella, Florence._
+]
+
+If Filippino became an eccentric through pressure of circumstances,
+Piero di Cosimo[48] was one by nature. Born in 1462, he soon came under
+the dullest of masters, Cosimo Rosselli. To Cosimo’s four hopeless
+frescoes in the Sistine Chapel he added certain vivacious features, and
+there he learned to know some of the ablest artists of his day. Always a
+bachelor and recluse, he pursued serious studies in imitation of such
+stern realists as Antonio Pollaiuolo and Luca Signorelli. He lived
+sordidly in his _bottega_, literally from hand to mouth, on the eggs
+which he boiled in his glue pot, in weekly batches. Alone he planned
+strange mythologies, bestially pungent, and there he thought out odd
+terrible pageants which shocked and enthralled his Florence. And as he
+made these bizarre inventions, he mocked them and himself. His
+admirations were shifting—now Signorelli, again the Flemish realists and
+Leonardo: incompatible attractions.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 144. Piero di Cosimo. Cleopatra.—_Chantilly._
+]
+
+You may sense his quality in two wall panels, now in the Metropolitan
+Museum,[49] made for some palace. Piero had read over the legend of
+primitive man as told by Ovid, and quickly his mind bred phantoms. First
+he conceived a state where dominion trembled between man and the brute
+creation. Savage men with the unfair advantage of fire are exterminating
+the beasts, among whom fight those half-men, the centaurs, Figure 143.
+In the companion panel the mood changes abruptly from strife and tumult
+to the quaintly pastoral strains of a stone-age minuet. We assist at a
+troglodyte water-party. Lovely woman dominates the new scene. The now
+domesticated centaur proudly bears her. In courtly fashion skin-clad
+warriors hand her into a rude pleasure raft which may perhaps waft the
+picnickers to the joys of a cannibal feast. These inventions have
+immense fantastic power, and their real originality by no means
+precludes the suspicion that the artist is smiling at his own ingenuity
+and at our complaisance.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 145. Piero di Cosimo. Death of Procris.—_London._
+]
+
+Take again his Cleopatra, Figure 144, at Chantilly. The snub-nosed
+Florentine beauty airs her abundant charms in a romantic landscape,
+while the asp does his by no means disagreeable duty. What a travesty of
+the dignity of Plutarch, and how fetching it is as distinguished
+burlesque!
+
+Cautiously and perhaps grudgingly, in the early years of the new
+century, Piero follows the improvements of Leonardo. This influence is
+palpable in the Rescue of Andromeda, in the Uffizi. The chained princess
+carelessly displays her appetizing attractions, while the leering and
+hungry dragon lurches on the beach and surveys his prey. High up in the
+sky is hope, in the brisk, knightly figure of Perseus. A musical party
+lolls deliciously on the strand, equally prepared to enjoy a heroic
+rescue or a monster at feeding time. We are in the superbly
+irresponsible world of the fairy tale, and the thrilling _raconteur_ has
+his clever tongue in his cheek.
+
+Exceptionally, as in that wistful poesy, The Death of Procris, Figure
+145, at London, Piero is serious enough. The girlish body lies very
+quiet amid meadow flowers. A puzzled faun and a more comprehending hound
+are very touching mourners amid the unregarding beasts and birds of a
+tranquil lake-side afternoon. Such refinements of sentiment are often
+the compensation for an unstable spirit. The vein is rare in Piero, who,
+aside from his mythological ironies and quite conventional religious
+pieces, is also a vivacious portraitist as the galleries of New Haven,
+Conn., the Hague, and London attest.
+
+Piero lived on till 1521, surviving both Leonardo and Raphael. The
+greatest artistic effort of modern times had spent itself before his
+eyes, and he had mostly been content to be witty. He represents at least
+a fine scorn of his flimsy training, and remains a consummate type of
+the artist who lives, like a bear in winter, on his own fat.
+
+After a long detour, we are once more on the high road. Perugino, with
+his simple and gracious symmetries, had shown the painting of the end of
+the century what ailed it. But his cure was too obvious to be acceptable
+until a youngster of Raphael’s entirely modest intelligence should come
+along. The reform, as often in other than artistic affairs, had to be
+made from within, and was conducted by one who had much sympathy with
+the random richness of the Early Renaissance style, Leonardo da
+Vinci.[50]
+
+Leonardo’s discoveries, pursued with the most patient and gradual care,
+shocked no one and were quickly taken up. He was nearly thirty before he
+reached consciousness of his mission, and having attained his artistic
+end, he dropped painting, with a kind of scorn, for mathematical and
+scientific investigation. In his admirable “Tractate on Painting” he has
+left the fullest and most eloquent records of his ideals. The first is
+that the painter must know clearly what he is about. “Without good
+theory no good practice is possible.” Next the artist should be in a
+filial relation to nature, admiring and imitating her directly, and not
+through the eyes of other artists. As to the main object of painting,
+Leonardo wavers between two definitions. Repeatedly he insists that that
+painting is greatest which through the postures of the body shows the
+emotions of the soul. As often, he uses a more technical definition—the
+chief business of painting is to create a sense of relief or projection
+where there is none. This relief is effected by delicate and accurate
+distribution of light and shade. Light and dark are conceived in a
+double fashion, as factors in relief and as offering intrinsic beauties
+in their gradations. We have a refinement on the method of Masaccio,
+which is merely structural and dramatic and without much intrinsic
+charm. But the new beauty of chiaroscuro soon turns out to be
+incompatible with the old beauty of frank color. Pictures become dusky
+and mysterious, tending to black and white values. Ever since Leonardo,
+academic painting has had the sore limitation of regarding shadow as
+negation of color. It is the defect of his teaching and practice.
+
+On broader matters, however, Leonardo is profoundly right. Seeing is a
+mental process and should be selective. Represent all the muscles
+emphatically, and your nude will look like a sack full of nuts. Accuracy
+is necessary, but is of no value without accompanying dignity and grace.
+Choose the most gracious aspects of reality, the pervasive moderate
+light of evening rather than the sharp glare of the overhead sun.
+Observe deaf-mutes so that you may learn the possibilities of expression
+through gestures. Seek equilibrium and an active and vital balance
+whether in the pose of the single figure or in the relations of the
+figures to each other. Get the action right, and afterwards add the
+details. These are some of the precepts which Leonardo scribbled off
+about the year 1500 when he was nearing fifty and his work as a painter
+was almost over. He is really describing the principles under which,
+while accepting the richness and variety of the early Renaissance style,
+he had once for all put it in order.
+
+Of course this was a very gradual process. To the end Leonardo retained
+something of a primitive quality, and he was by no means precocious. He
+was born in 1452, the lovechild of a peasant girl of Vinci and a young
+Florentine notary, Piero da Vinci. His earliest recollections must have
+been of the hills and distant mountain prospects of his native hamlet of
+Vinci, between Florence and Pisa. But he was soon taken into his
+father’s home at Florence, and given an education which hardly exceeded
+the proverbial “Three R’s”. Just when he was put with the painter and
+sculptor, Andrea Verrocchio, is uncertain, but it can hardly have been
+later than Leonardo’s thirteenth year, 1465. As a painter, Verrocchio
+exists for us chiefly in the work of his pupils. As a sculptor, however,
+he is a definite enough figure. His aim was plainly to infuse the new
+realism with an aristocratic elegance. What a young patrician is his
+David composing himself for the ordeal with a restrained well-bred
+smile! There is a splendid dandyism in his valor. Or consider the
+Madonna in terra-cotta, with her ornate head-dress, rich brooch, and
+carefully arranged robe, her almost too sweet self-possession. She is a
+clue to the fastidiousness of Verrocchio. Again consider the proud hard
+face and the marvelously firm and delicate hands of the unknown lady
+Verrocchio cut in marble. These things are dominant for the early
+development of Leonardo, as the alert, powerful and aggressive Colleoni
+monument is for his later heroic creations. Something of Verrocchio’s
+scrupulous and eminently dilatory character also passed over to his
+brilliant pupil. Verrocchio remained a bachelor and wholly devoted to
+his art, yet he took eighteen years to give to his famous bronze group
+of Christ and St. Thomas its dignity and sensitive feeling. Leonardo
+remained some ten years or more with Verrocchio, painting many works
+that are lost to us, and a few, I believe, that we may identify. In this
+most contested matter I follow in the main the views of Dr. Sirén.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 146. Leonardo da Vinci, Head at Left; Verrocchio, Head at Right.
+    Details from Verrocchio’s Baptism.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 146_a._> Verrocchio and Leonardo. Baptism of Christ.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 147. Leonardo da Vinci under Verrocchio’s Direction.
+    Annunciation.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+For many years Leonardo ventured little on his own account, following
+with docility the directions of his master. The single painting which we
+may with certainty ascribe to Verrocchio, the Baptism of Christ, Figure
+146a, in the Uffizi, already bears traces of Leonardo’s hand. The
+general composition is borrowed from an insignificant panel of
+Baldovinetti’s. The stalwart ugly forms derive from Pollaiuolo.
+Delightful features added in oils by Leonardo are the exquisite angel at
+the left, Figure 146, and the vaporous distance and mountain skyline. We
+may surmise that these improvements were added about 1470 to a picture
+started several years earlier. One other picture was designed by
+Verrocchio and finished after his death in 1488 by his assistant,
+Lorenzo di Credi. This Madonna, in the cathedral of Pistoia, affords an
+excellent contrast between the puffy forms of Lorenzo and the firm and
+living contours of Leonardo. The famous Annunciation in the Uffizi,
+Figure 147, seems a kind of joint product, the actual painting being by
+Leonardo, the badly balanced composition and intrusive heavy lectern, as
+well as the rather cheap attitude of surprise of the Virgin,
+representing a perfunctory mood of Verrocchio. The vista of remote
+mountains hanging pale in the blue sky is such as only Leonardo could
+have created. The delightful Gabriel also seems wholly his invention.
+The composition again rests on one of Baldovinetti’s, at S. Miniato, and
+the date of the picture may be about 1475. Of about the same date is a
+Madonna with an Angel in the National Gallery, which may well be a
+composition of Verrocchio interpreted by Leonardo. The note of sweetness
+is a little forced, as in most work of this kind. We meet Leonardo in
+his own right a little earlier, in a pen sketch of a broad landscape
+dated in midsummer summer of 1473, Figure 148. Its spaciousness and
+schematic handling of horizontals ally it to the landscape backgrounds
+we have been considering. The last work of this Verrocchian character is
+the Portrait of a Girl, in the Liechtenstein Gallery, Vienna. Here we
+are in a field where Leonardo and his master are almost
+indistinguishable, but the picturesquely broken background, the bit of
+landscape, and the ease of the contours, speak for the younger man. As
+late as 1476, his twenty-fifth year, Leonardo was still with Verrocchio.
+He probably set up his own _bottega_ a year or so afterwards.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 148. Leonardo da Vinci. Landscape. Pen Drawing.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 149. Leonardo da Vinci. Annunciation.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+There followed four or five years of eager experiment, much being
+planned and rather little carried to completion. Relieved from the
+pressure of a master, actual painting seems to have become irksome. He
+loves to sketch, to turn his designs over until they reach perfection,
+leaving them in the condition of the swiftest and most accurate
+notations. Lack of system and paralysis of will are already apparent.
+For about two years of this joyous and irresponsible creation he
+remained a primitive. Such he is in the idyllic little Annunciation of
+the Louvre,[51] Figure 149, which should be for its fluent technic no
+earlier than 1476. He takes the motive which he had previously done
+under restrictions, reduces it to a symmetrical order, rejects
+distracting details, floods it with warm light breaking through ragged
+apertures of the trees, and invests it with a penetrating humility and
+grace. The little picture, which many critics set too early, is really
+Leonardo’s declaration of independence. It shows features which
+anticipate his mature style—a combination of a severe geometrical
+symmetry in figure composition with a romantically strange setting and
+lighting.
+
+Of less import is the unpretentious little Madonna of the Flower,
+recently discovered, and in the Hermitage, at Petrograd. It is
+authenticated by numerous composition sketches. Its vivacity and
+youthful lightness of effect are entirely in Verrocchio’s manner,
+nothing is new but heavier shadows and more emphatic modelling.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 150. Leonardo da Vinci. Pen Sketches for the Madonna of the
+    Cat.—_British Museum._
+]
+
+On a sheet of drawings in the Uffizi, which characteristically combines
+with sketches of men’s heads studies of machinery, we read “This day I
+began the two Virgin Marys.” The day is effaced, but it is a month in
+1478, ending in _-bre_—September, October or November. One of these
+Madonnas is, no doubt, the Madonna of the Flower.[52] As to the other we
+have no certainty, but the sketches of this time show at least five
+madonnas in process of invention. A Madonna holding a mischievous Child
+who hugs a writhing cat, a Madonna with a Dish of Fruit, a Madonna
+kneeling before the Child, a theme later developed into the Madonna of
+the Rocks; a Madonna seated on the Ground, and a Madonna seated in the
+open with the Christchild and St. John. Dr. Jens Thys thinks the last
+composition may be the one actually begun as a picture, since such early
+Raphaels as the Belle Jardinière seem to imply such a picture as their
+model. We do well to turn from such speculations to the marvelous
+sketches for these Madonnas, Figure 150. Nothing firmer, lighter or more
+charming can be imagined. Of the line, thinned to a hair or widened to a
+blot, there is the completest control. These little figures, a couple of
+inches high at the most and often of thumb-nail minuteness, may be
+enlarged to life size without losing in structure or character. Nothing
+shows better the sheer fecund genius of Leonardo than these sheets,
+crowded with figures, scribbled with his right-to-left handwriting, and
+slantingly shaded from upper left downwards, after the fashion of a
+lefthanded draughtsman. They show how Leonardo worked in spurts of
+inspiration, creating a dozen lovely compositions and contented with
+none. They represent so many tensely joyous half-hours, with doubtless
+long intervals of other activities and withal of sheer brooding and
+unrecorded observation. They help one grasp the spasmodic and
+discontinuous quality of Leonardo’s genius—why the actual execution of
+pictures was ever a matter of pain and drudgery to him. Up to his
+twenty-ninth year he apparently made no prolonged effort of any sort,
+but spent himself furiously in separate investigations. Then he pulled
+himself together for a great picture, and though it too never got beyond
+the underpainting, it broke the new path to the Golden Age.
+
+For several years Leonardo had turned over the theme of an Adoration of
+the Child in his sketch books. These desultory inventions were brought
+abruptly to a focus in March 1481, when he agreed to do an altar-piece
+for the monks of S. Donato at Scopeto. We have the best circumstantial
+evidence for identifying this piece with the unfinished Adoration of the
+Kings, now in the Uffizi. When we live ourselves into this dusky and
+mysterious sketch we step out of the early Renaissance into a new,
+ardent, rich and ordered region of invention such as the world had not
+witnessed since the glory of Greece faded. The composition went through
+at least three main stages. At first, as we see from a pen study in the
+Bonnat Museum, at Bayonne, an Adoration of the Shepherds was considered,
+the Madonna kneeling over the Christ between flanking groups of
+worshippers. The scheme was rejected as too thin and obvious. A picture
+of Lorenzi di Credi’s shows us its limited possibilities. Then the
+picture became an Adoration of the Kings, with the thatched shed, much
+action in the foreground group and a ruined amphitheatre in the
+background. This sketch in the Louvre, Figure 151, contains all the
+elements of the picture, but an extraordinary work of clarification and
+refinement remained to be done. The figures were studied and restudied
+till they reached both highest expressiveness and individuality,[53] and
+an exact relation to the dense and intricate articulation of the
+foreground group. Often there are half a dozen separate studies for each
+motive. The central group was more closely massed till it became a rose
+of eager faces and flickering hands and kneeling forms pressing inward
+towards the Child. To increase this concentration, a mound is erected
+behind the group shutting it off from the wide background. To steady the
+group, the Madonna is no longer swung athwart the motion, but her nearly
+straight position becomes a sort of axis carried up by the trees above.
+In the richness, variety and animation of the compact group of adorers,
+Leonardo has met the Early Renaissance on its own ground and outdone it.
+In the wider setting he still observes the old precepts, but in a
+profounder and more significant sense. He has swept the traditional shed
+aside and opened up a world, a world furtive and active and combatant in
+its own wilfulness—playing, hiding, and fighting amid the crumbling
+ruins of old civilizations, and before distant towering crags which were
+there before civilization or man himself was; a world oblivious of the
+sublime mystery accomplishing itself in the kings who pay homage to a
+Babe. What an ironic substitute for the joyous pastoralism with which
+contemporary artists invested their pictures of the Epiphany!
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 151. Leonardo. Sketch for Adoration.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 152. Leonardo da Vinci. Adoration of the Magi.
+    Underpainting.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+The Adoration of the Kings, Figure 152, is the richest, most
+complicated, most beautifully ordered picture of its century; even
+Leonardo was not to surpass it simply as a composition. Like all rich
+things it will bear many analyses. You may consider it as a triangle,
+with the reciprocal forms enriched, or, with Dr. Thys, as the
+combination of two radiating motives, one centred on the Madonna’s face,
+the other on the soft alert body of the Child. Such analyses are only
+important as temporary aids to understanding of the main fact that in
+the making of such a masterpiece a clear and subtile geometry is
+involved. Later Leonardo was to declare that there is no science which
+cannot undergo mathematical demonstration, and he probably would have
+added—no art. Of his own art at least the saying is true. It may have
+been not so much his native indolence that arrested a work which had
+claimed months of passionate preparation at the moment when creation was
+at its height, as the conviction that it would lose something if fully
+realized. One can see how he loved the summary touches of dark and
+light, the swift, sufficient evocation of body and soul which he had
+learned from Masaccio. He may have hated to cover up such work, and a
+critic today may well be in doubt whether the gain in finishing it would
+have atoned for the loss. Or Leonardo da Vinci may already have been
+called to Milan and a new artistic life. However that be, the monks of
+Secopto, after a long wait, turned to Filippino Lippi, who had already
+undertaken one lapsed commission for Leonardo, and he promptly achieved
+an Adoration of the Kings which only shows how inimitable Leonardo was,
+and how little mere richness counts in any picture.
+
+For two years between 1481 and 1483, there is silence. It seems to me
+that in this time we may set the crowning of his early work in the
+Madonna of the Rocks at the Louvre and the Cartoon of St. Ann at London.
+The Madonna of the Rocks, Figure 153, is the logical outcome of a half
+dozen Adorations which we may trace through the drawings of 1478. A
+sheet of sketches in the Metropolitan Museum shows him turning the theme
+over, rejecting the established profile arrangement of Fra Filippo, and
+hitting on the formal pyramidal pattern which appears in the picture
+itself. There the pyramid is felt not merely in plane, but also in
+depth. The forms and faces are superbly tense without either rigidity or
+the fluency of Leonardo’s later work. The setting is primitive, with
+minutely studied textures of rock and crisp shapes of wall-flowers.
+Everything derives from Fra Filippo and Botticelli, but with new
+meaning. The romantic strangeness of the setting, the glimpses of sky
+and opening in the rock, the sifting in of light from the heart of the
+picture itself, the broad contrast of the formality of the figure
+arrangement with the picturesque wildness of the setting—all this is
+purest Leonardo and represents the culmination of many experiments. One
+can trace this idea of irregularly broken light and an informal screen
+as foil for a geometrical pattern, from the little Annunciation of the
+Louvre, through the unfinished St. Jerome of the Vatican. The Early
+Renaissance steps into the background, where it belongs. Leonardo never
+rejects it; he fulfils it with an exquisite sense of proportion.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 153. Leonardo. Madonna of the Rocks.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+If the first Madonna of the Rocks was painted before 1482, in Florence,
+so probably was the cartoon of the Madonna with St. Ann, Figure 127,
+perhaps the most precious single work that Leonardo has left us. The
+inwardness of the relation between the two women is in the mood of the
+Adoration of the Kings, single motives suggest the drawings for the
+Madonna of the Cat. Later Leonardo was to lend to the motive greater
+complication and formal elegance, somewhat at the cost of emotional
+insight. Pictures of intense and natural feeling Leonardo does not
+produce after his thirtieth year. Instead we have dramatic objectivity
+in one phase, and in another, exquisite subtilities, a calculated
+graciousness sweet to morbidity.
+
+What drew Leonardo from Florence to Milan we do not surely know.
+Probably he was called directly by the Duke Lodovico Sforza to undertake
+the colossal equestrian statue of his father Francesco. Moreover,
+Leonardo seems to have achieved notoriety at Florence without gaining
+much confidence or achieving much success. After all, he had rather
+little to show for his genius—just his sketch books and his good
+intentions in unfinished masterpieces. He seems, too, never to have
+mastered the practice which ever brought the best commissions, fresco
+painting. Thus he had every reason to seek new fortunes.
+
+He heralded his coming to Milan with the most truthfully boastful of
+letters in which he arrogated to himself all ability as an inventor,
+civil and military engineer, painter, sculptor, and architect; and he
+entered the presence of Lodovico bearing a silver lute wrought in the
+form of a horse’s skull. This dramatic entrance was the forecast of
+arduous duties as an entertainer. He sang, told anecdotes and fables,
+arranged pageants and masques, conducted debates on his art—in short,
+accepted the thousand and one duties and distractions of a courtier.
+
+He painted the portraits of the Duke’s mistresses, and it is possible
+that we have the girlish figure of Cecilia Gallierani in the lady with
+an Ermine[54] at Cracow. The forms and feeling are entirely like
+Leonardo’s work in the early eighties. He agreed to do an altar-piece
+for the Church of San Francesco, and delivered it only after a delay of
+twenty-three years. This most postponed of pictures is the version of
+the Madonna of the Rocks now at London. Meanwhile Leonardo’s constant
+concern was “the horse,” as he calls it. For seven years he worked at a
+rearing horse with a fallen foe trodden beneath. It is shown in many
+drawings. It was too sensational a theme to please him in the long run.
+So in 1490, spurred by the risk of losing the job, he restudied the
+horse, using the walking motive, which had come down from classical
+antiquity. Eventually the clay model was set up before the Sforza
+castle, just in time for the invading French archers to make a target of
+it. The rider was never even definitely planned. The whole project
+remained a chagrin to Leonardo even after the horse itself had
+disappeared. One day in Florence he civilly accosted Michelangelo who
+turned on him with the taunt—“Thou who did’st model a horse and could’st
+not cast it in bronze.”
+
+Amidst the distractions of the court, the irksomeness of the rashly
+undertaken Sforza monument, and the increasing passion for scientific
+research, Leonardo managed to carry through his single monumental work,
+the Last Supper, in the refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie.
+
+For three years Leonardo worked spasmodically on the Last Supper, and it
+was finished in 1498. The design had been most carefully elaborated. He
+started with the customary arrangement of the apostles in pairs, John in
+Jesus’ bosom—a refractory motive, and Judas in sinister isolation on the
+near side of the table. Almost by accident he fell upon the effective
+grouping of the apostles by threes. Then he set himself to giving in
+expression and gesture the maximum emotion that could be contained
+within a monumental design. He eliminated the old casual accessories and
+made all the lines of perspective converge on the face of Christ. He
+gave to all the figures a classical gravity, though admitting many
+varieties of age and character.
+
+Thus even in its ruined estate The Last Supper, Figure 154, is perhaps
+the most impressive picture in the world. The moment is that when Christ
+says “One of you shall betray me.” The arrangement is in five great
+balancing waves. From the Christ there is an outgoing gesture of
+resignation and love, from the apostles converging, incoming waves of
+horror, amazement, curiosity and indignation. Each undulation is double.
+Extended arms or pointed hands check the motion where it is excessive or
+connect the separate groups. Only Judas is out of the converging rhythm.
+He swings back defiantly pondering his part. Highly agitated in details,
+the whole is held within a noble and pathetic decorum. It is the very
+ideal of a Renaissance composition—dense, rich, energetic, varied, yet
+unified by a severe and calculated pattern which subordinates to its
+purpose the most diverse components. Raphael can only imitate it in the
+lower part of the Disputa, and monumental design ever since has gone to
+school with it.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 154. Leonardo da Vinci. Last supper.—_S. Maria delle Grazie,
+    Milan._
+]
+
+It was unhappily painted in tempera, not in oils as older accounts
+say,[55] on the dry wall, and it soon began to deteriorate. What we see
+today is merely the wraith of it, yet a wraith that imposes itself and
+moves us as few better preserved masterpieces do.
+
+In the year 1500 the French overran Lombardy, and, Leonardo, after
+wandering in Northern Italy and a martial episode as engineer for
+conquering Cæsar Borgia, returned, in 1503, to his native Florence. He
+is fifty and already in spirit an old man. His always limited will power
+has given out, he broods incessantly over mathematical and physical
+lore, wastes himself over fantastic inventions. His exhibit is only a
+cartoon, now lost, for a St. Ann. He makes portraits by proxy, but
+paints, himself, only under peculiar incentives. Such he found in the
+commission for a great battle-piece for the Priors’ Palace and in the
+personality of Mona Lisa.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 155. Leonardo da Vinci. Sketches for the Battle of
+    Anghiari.—_Windsor Castle._
+]
+
+Early in the year 1504 he began to work on the cartoon for the Battle of
+Anghiari. He chose the incident of a cavalry fight for the standard. He
+composed a whirl of horses and infuriated riders, hacking and slashing
+about a flag—a literal picture of bloodlust at its height. The ability
+he expended on this atrocious theme may be sensed in a dozen preparatory
+sketches, Figure 155. The portion which he actually painted on the wall
+is represented only by inferior copies. The original soon faded from
+deficient technical methods. The old copies tell us that this great
+piece, while the marvel of its day, was sensational and highly
+exhibitionistic. We need not too much mourn its loss. The admiration it
+evoked was that of an age eager for novelty and responsive to display.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 156. Leonardo. Mona Lisa.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+While working on the battle-piece, Leonardo met the young Neapolitan
+wife of Francesco del Giocondo and began her portrait, Figure 156. She
+had lost children and was habitually sad. He employed musicians to charm
+the inscrutable fascinating smile to her face. He set her demure and
+watchful before a romantic expanse of river plain rimmed by blue alps.
+Against this wild charm of nature, he made Mona Lisa a symbol for all
+that is cultured, self-contained, sophisticated, civilized. Simple
+people instinctively dislike her, and are right. Subtle people adore
+her, and are also right. Such as wish poetic commentary on her
+mysterious beauty may find it for themselves in Walter Pater’s admirable
+essay. They will do well to temper his eloquence with Kenyon Cox’s[56]
+just if prosaic observation that this portrait is simply the finest,
+most accurate, and subtle bit of modelling in the world. Its mystery is
+perhaps merely one of amazing vision and impeccable workmanship. The
+truth may well lie between two interpretations, each of which is valid
+in its own field. Had there not been some extraordinary spell in the
+woman herself, Leonardo, now well weary of painting, would hardly have
+studied either her soul or her modelling with such tenacity.
+
+During his brief sojourn in Florence, Leonardo did cartoons for two
+designs of Leda and the Swan, his only mythological picture. One
+represents her standing, the other crouching. If we may trust the
+inferior imitations, in which alone we know these subjects, their
+calculated sensuousness was almost cloying. Their mood is that of his
+least agreeable imitator, Sodoma.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 157. Leonardo. Madonna with St. Ann.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+In May 1506 Florence lent Leonardo to Charles d’Amboise, the French
+viceroy at Milan, and there he spent the most of the next five years.
+The Franciscans had been biding their time, and under legal duress made
+him finish the Madonna which he had promised twenty-three years earlier.
+Thus the second Madonna of the Rocks, at London, was painted somewhat
+against the grain. It has more simplicity and breadth than the earlier
+version and shows improvements in the position of the angel. It also
+lacks the minute and painstaking delicacy of its original, reveals a
+tired hand and mind. Otherwise Leonardo achieved in painting only the
+third version of the Madonna and St. Ann, Figure 157, now in the Louvre.
+The interweaving of the figures is compact and masterly, the solution of
+the difficult problems of the two heads consummately clever. It has
+passages of the utmost loveliness, like the foot of the Madonna, but
+there is some suspicion of oversophistication, and Leonardo never
+summoned the energy to finish it. Painting little himself,—for he was
+busy with canals, architecture, and the never finished equestrian
+monument of Trivulzio,—Leonardo gave his stamp to the entire Milanese
+school. Such pupils as Boltraffio, Cesare da Sesto, Andrea Solario, his
+old partner, Ambrogio de Predis, and his intimate, Francesco Melzi,
+readily grasped his mannerisms, and filled Italy with Leonardesque
+pictures of inferior inspiration. More robust and independent spirits,
+like Bernardino Luini, adapted his manner intelligently to the needs of
+mural painting. Lombardy under his influence for a moment seemed to vie
+with Florence and Rome.
+
+In 1513 Leonardo was called to Rome by the new Pope Leo X, Lorenzo de’
+Medici’s son, Giovanni. It was the moment for artistic ambition to flame
+in one who felt himself a great painter. Michelangelo had recently
+unveiled the Sistine ceiling, and Raphael had completed the Camera della
+Segnatura. Leonardo was sixty-one, when a painter should be at his best.
+Yet he plunged himself into scientific experiments, perpetrated strange
+practical jokes on his patrons, produced nothing but disorderly notes,
+and after two wasted years left the repute of one rather an amateur
+magician than an artist.
+
+Having lived a wanderer, it was appropriate that Leonardo should die an
+exile. Francis I, an enthusiastic patron of Italian art, called him to
+France and settled him honorably in the Château of Cloux, near Amboise.
+We hear of him as immensely learned and venerable, but palsied, and
+dependent on the affectionate care of his pupil Melzi. He died on the
+morrow of Mayday 1519 at peace with the church, leaving money to sixty
+poor persons who should follow his body with candles to the tomb.
+Doubtless you could have marked in that pitiful procession many of those
+gnarled, toothless and haggard faces which Leonardo formerly loved to
+sketch in the intervals of his endless quest of beauty. As we study the
+marvelous drawing of himself in old age, Figure 158, we may surmise that
+he was glad to go. It is hard to see in it the courtier who bore the
+fantastic silver lute to Lodovico, the artist who charmed a smile from
+the weary and cautious face of Mona Lisa. One sees a man immensely old,
+though at an age generally robust and cheery—one who has tried to crowd
+many lives into one and has paid the inevitable penalty.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 158. Leonardo da Vinci. His own portrait.—_Turin._
+]
+
+Broken and intermittent as it had been, Leonardo’s painting had sufficed
+to show the way. He had substituted mystery of light and shade for
+allurement of frank color, study of the subtler and finer shades of
+emotion for obvious characterization, had founded modern portraiture. He
+had shown how to express power and passion with delicacy, had combined
+the richest animation and variety with monumental severity of design.
+After him the art of painting was never to be the same again. Its
+standards became ampler and more classic. Stolid men like Fra
+Bartolommeo immediately accepted his principles of composition and so
+did miraculously alert intelligences like Raphael’s. His mere passing
+contact and tradition inspired that admirable language of light and dark
+that became poetry in Giorgione and Correggio. The good and the harm he
+did is active today in thousands of academies and art schools. His is
+assuredly the finest intelligence that ever applied itself to the
+painter’s art, and if he failed in will and in fecundity, he has
+impressed himself upon posterity as no other Italian painter save
+Titian. His art had its limitations, but its capacity for influence, to
+which he added the thoughtful eloquence of his written word, seems
+limitless; and his glory is imperishable.
+
+Nowhere does the superiority of Florence show more clearly than in the
+attitude of her artists to Leonardo. Where his Milanese followers aped
+his superficial mannerisms, his Florentine admirers studied and
+assimilated his construction in light and shade and his principles of
+geometrical composition. Unhappily the early years of the sixteenth
+century were a slack time in Florence. Such transitional painters as
+Piero di Cosimo, Granacci, Franciabigio, Il Bacchiacca, and Ridolfo
+Ghirlandaio were not men to carry forward Leonardo’s discoveries, but
+they and others, at least paid him an intelligent homage and sensibly
+clarified their practice under his influence. Greater intelligences like
+Fra Bartolommeo and Andrea del Sarto not merely adopted Leonardo’s
+canons, but even at certain points criticized them. Both saw the
+drawback of Leonardo’s passionate concern with chiaroscuro—that it
+flooded the canvas with colorless shadow, tending to reduce the palette
+to black and white. Both men then therefore kept their rich shadows
+colorful. Both worked for a more compact and intricate composition as
+well as for graceful, abstract poses. In these latter endeavors they
+simplified and sharpened principles which Leonardo himself only rarely
+carried to their logical extreme.
+
+Leonardo retained certain primitive qualities. He seldom reduced his
+compositions to dense arrangements of the figures, loving to allow elbow
+room and delighting to open up landscape backgrounds. And while in the
+“Treatise on Painting” he advocated elaborately balanced and
+counterpoised poses, in practice he usually sought an excuse for them in
+action. A consummate stylist, he achieved style on a basis of function.
+The pose, in his own words, must express “the emotions of the soul.”
+Right here his ablest followers took issue with him. Posture with them
+no longer expressed specific or individual emotion, but abstract
+beauties of grace, dignity or grandeur. The figures no longer do or feel
+anything, they are arranged as the general composition and mood of the
+picture require. Such gradual advance towards pure style heralds the
+advent of the High Renaissance.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 159. Fra Bartolommeo. God appearing to two Saints.—_Lucca._
+]
+
+Of the somewhat stolid and occasionally sentimental sublimity of Fra
+Bartolommeo[57] nothing much need be said except that it was a formative
+influence on young Raphael. The Dominican monk is an impressive and
+amiable figure personally. Working solely for the glory of God and the
+profit of the Convent of San Marco, perturbed by the tragic fate of his
+cloister mate, Savonarola, he strove incessantly for a fuller color and
+a greater dignity. In his numerous Holy Families he is stately in a
+conventional way, nowhere more so than in the unfinished design for a
+Madonna with St. Ann, in the Uffizi. Occasionally, in such pictures as
+the Deposition of the Uffizi, and the Madonna of Pity at Lucca he
+achieves poignant, one is tempted to say operatic effects, forecasting
+the mood of the Baroque. Lucca also affords in the great picture God
+Adored by Two Saints, Figure 159, a fine example of this painter’s
+simple and massive compositions. In the fresco of The Last Judgment,
+which, being ruined, is better represented by Copies, Figure 160, we
+find an elaboration, in Leonardo’s sense, of the simple symmetries of
+Perugino. It is the precedent for Raphael’s monumental frescoes at Rome.
+His short career, from about 1495 to 1517, fell on evil times for
+Florence. In happier days he might have harmonized more perfectly the
+stylist and the lyrical dramatist that, as it was, never quite came to
+terms in his grave and noble personality. Yet to have mediated between
+Leonardo and Raphael would seem glory enough for any painter, and it was
+also no slight service to borrow for Florentine painting, rapidly
+becoming starved of color, something of the colorful richness of
+Giovanni Bellini and Giorgione.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 160. Fra Bartolommeo. Copy of Lost Fresco of Last
+    Judgment.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+“The Perfect Painter” was what the Florentines called Andrea del
+Sarto,[58] and he merited the title. He produced no masterpiece of the
+first order, but his Work is singularly uniform on a high level. Its
+chief qualities are dignity and grace with a great richness of color.
+The deep shadows are warm and full of dusky light, the stylistic poses
+of the figures always easy, and the weaving of the complicated groupings
+ever tasteful and harmonious. To the refractory art of fresco painting
+Andrea brought a richness, depth and variety of color that others hardly
+attained in oil painting. Only Luini in the north came near him in this
+regard. In short he is a consummate technician, carrying his art as far
+as skill and taste unillumined by sheer genius will reach.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 161. Andrea del Sarto. Birth.—_Annunziata._
+]
+
+Little of his excellence can be laid to his early training. Before 1500
+he was working with Piero di Cosimo, and Andrea’s youthful frescoes of
+the miracles of S. Filippo Benizzi, in the fore-court of the Annunziata,
+show the loose and animated arrangements and the exaggeration of
+picturesque landscape features characteristic of his master. But Andrea
+learned rather of the time-spirit than of any other master. By 1514 his
+art is complete and one may see its flowering in the frescoes of the
+Birth of the Virgin, Figure 161, and the Madonna of the Sack, Figure
+162, respectively in the fore-court and in the cloister of the
+Annunziata. It is a sumptuous and grave kind of design redeemed from
+heaviness by its exquisite balance of color masses, and from
+conventionality by the hint of portraiture in the artfully disposed
+figures.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 162. Andrea del Sarto. Madonna of the Sack.—_Annunziata._
+]
+
+Scores of times Andrea repeats these perfections in the great
+altar-backs required for the new Renaissance chapels. The Four Saints in
+the Pitti, the Madonna of the Harpies in the Uffizi, Figure 162a, the
+Enthroned Madonna at Berlin may serve among many to illustrate his
+accomplishment in this new vein. Somewhat reminiscent of the heavier
+monumentality of Fra Bartolommeo, these great pictures add a personal
+and disquieting note from the presence of the moody, handsome wife,
+Lucrezia whose caprices and infidelities are the tragic element in an
+otherwise even life.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 162_a._ Andrea del Sarto. Madonna of the Harpies.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Andrea in his later years won new glories but added no new note to his
+art. The monochrome frescoes in the Cloister of the Scalzo representing
+the Life of St. John Baptist merely show the old gravity somewhat
+exaggerated. The series which extended over many years (1515–1526) is
+uneven, and many of these perhaps overestimated compositions are plainly
+of student execution. Without his color, Andrea seems somewhat coldly
+academic. It was precisely this quality of stylistic grandeur, however,
+that appealed paradoxically to the romantic monarch, Francis I. He
+called Andrea to France in 1518 and kept him there in honor for a year.
+Had Andrea possessed any of the capacities of a teacher and theorist, he
+might have inaugurated the Renaissance in France. As it was he remained
+merely a harbinger of such inferior but more influential spirits as Il
+Rosso and Primaticcio who a few years later were to found the School of
+Fontainebleau.
+
+Often the portfolios of a great technician are more thrilling than his
+major works. This is the case with Andrea del Sarto. His numerous
+sketches in red chalk, have an athletic charm which his painting lacks.
+Others have drawn differently in this medium, but no one has drawn
+better.
+
+When Andrea died in 1531, “full of glory and domestic trials,” as Vasari
+recounts, the normal development of Florentine painting ended, and
+Florence had already seen her artistic star dimmed by the rising
+splendors of Venice and Rome. Artistically she became a city of wit and
+ingenuity, chronicling and criticizing art rather than producing it.
+Moreover the obsession of Michelangelo’s sublimity worked havoc with his
+dilettante imitators. Some of these have the grace of lucidity, like
+Agnolo Bronzino, who (1502–1572)[59] practiced a reactionary sort of
+portraiture based on the old tradition of tempera painting. In sheer
+beauty of surface, enamel one is tempted to call it, he is little
+inferior to his great German contemporary, Hans Holbein, and his sense
+of character is only less keen because less individual. In the haughty
+patricians surrounding the person of Cosimo, the first grandduke, he
+found congenial sitters, Figure 163. In the narrow field of portraiture
+he is nearly in the first rank, while in his rare mythologies and
+religious pictures his limitations appear painfully. He was a vicious
+person, a cold æsthete, with few of the generous virtues that nourish
+the soul. Yet in his flinty way he was quite perfect, and as one of the
+first professionally unmoral artists he cannot be neglected by the
+psychological critic.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 164. Pontormo. The Deposition.—_S. Felice._
+]
+
+A more appealing figure is his master, Jacopo Carrucci, called from his
+birthplace Il Pontormo.[60] His was a tender and deeply religious spirit
+with the poet’s capacity for elation and melancholy. In his
+altar-pieces, such as the Deposition, Figure 164, at San Felice he seeks
+and achieves a positive pathos. Influenced by Michelangelo’s sublimity,
+he converts it to more specific and psychological ends. Often he is
+restless and over-emphatic as in the frescoes of the Passion in the
+cloister of the Florentine Certosa, or in the strangely complicated and
+contorted little picture of the Martyrdom of St. Mauritius and his
+Legionaries, in the Uffizi. In such work he moves towards the absolute
+expressionism of an El Greco, preluding also the more conventional
+emotionalism of the Baroque. As a portraitist he had no equal at
+Florence except his pupil Bronzino. Often the sensitiveness and
+moodiness of his characterizations recall his Venetic contemporary,
+Lorenzo Lotto. Even when he is robust he is sensitively psychological,
+as in the superb portrait of a Halberdier, Figure 165. Above all he was
+a powerful and subtle draughtsman whether with pen or chalk. His line
+writhes in a fashion at times sinister, at times singularly blithe, and
+his figure sketches have something of the imaginative thrill of the
+figure studies of Blake. For the grandducal palace of Poggio a Cajano,
+Figure 166, he did in a huge lunette pierced by a great round window a
+most original decoration for the odd triangles at the base. The
+unconventional fields are filled each by a rather small figure
+energetically posed and surrounded by greenery. The thing is at once
+monumental and pastoral and its freedom and tonality almost as modern as
+a Besnard. I would willingly dwell longer on so sympathetic an artist,
+but can only refer the interested reader to Dr. F. M. Clapp’s two
+authoritative volumes.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 163. Bronzino. Eleonora of Toledo and her son.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 165. Pontormo. The Halberdier.—_C. C. Stillman, N. Y._
+]
+
+For a century and more after Pontormo’s death in 1556 there are still
+occasional artists of talent at Florence, but there is no longer a
+Florentine school. The masterpieces of Michelangelo were at Rome, those
+of Raphael widely scattered. Conscious of her decline, Florence begins
+to import artists—the Flemish portraitist, Sustermans; the Venetian
+decorator, Luca Giordano. One of her own abler painters, Francesco
+Salviati, attaches himself to the Venetian manner. Being an academic
+city, Florence eschews the rugged naturalism of Caravaggio, but has no
+longer vitality enough to find a substitute of her own. In the late
+sixteenth century her fresco painting sinks to the pompous emptiness
+represented by Giorgio Vasari, or by the hardly better mythologies of
+the brothers Federigo and Taddeo Zuccaro. In the seventeenth century she
+still can produce an idyllist of great romantic and sensuous charm in a
+Francesco Furini and a genial illustrator in a Giovanni di San Giovanni.
+But such names only suggest the incoherence of the times. Florence is no
+longer a main current but an eddy, and what small flood-tide still runs
+courses in the more resolute academism of Bologna, which is to be
+capable of inspiring a Poussin; and in the raw naturalism of Naples,
+which is about to give lessons to a Velasquez.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 166. Pontormo. Frescoed Lunette.—_Poggio a Cajano._
+]
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER V
+
+
+                 POETRY AND PAINTING IN THE RENAISSANCE
+
+  Reversing the maxim _ut pictura poesis_, the Renaissance believed that
+  painting should be poetical. Indeed the term _poesia_ is commonly
+  applied to all painting of a mythological or idyllic sort. Angelo
+  Poliziano’s unfinished but very popular poem on the joust of 1468 is
+  lavish in descriptions, of which the painters made use. Botticelli
+  surely got more than a hint for the Birth of Venus from stanzas
+  xcix-ci of _La Giostra_, though the mood of the picture is wholly
+  Sandro’s own and unlike the pagan joyousness of Poliziano.
+
+                              “One saw
+  Born in the sea, free and joyous in her acts,
+  A damsel with divine visage
+  Driven ashore by the ardent zephyrs
+  Balancing on a shell; and it seemed the heavens rejoiced thereat.”
+
+  “True the foam and true the sea you would have said
+  True the shell, and the blowing of the winds true.
+  You would have seen the gleam of the Goddess’ eye
+  And the heavens laugh about her, and the elements.
+  And the Hours in white garments on the strand,
+  And the winds toss their spreading soft locks.”
+
+         ·       ·       ·       ·       ·
+
+  “You could swear that you could see the goddess coming from the waves
+  Wringing out her hair with her right hand
+  And with the left covering the sweet mount of desire,
+  And the sand, once trodden by her feet,
+  Clothing itself with grass and flowers.
+  Then with joyous and expectant glance
+  You would have seen her clasped by the three nymphs
+  And wrapped in a starry robe.”
+
+  Botticelli’s charming and even slyly humorous picture of Venus with
+  sleeping Mars, at London, follows afar and discreetly _La Giostra_, I.
+  stanzas cxxii-iii, but Botticelli has taken the motive out of doors
+  and otherwise considerably subtilized it. Venus is
+
+                 “Seated in bed outside the covers
+                 Just released from the arms of Mars
+                 Who, lies backward on her lap
+
+                        ·       ·       ·       ·       ·
+
+                 “Above them and around the tiny loves
+                 Played naked, flying now here now there
+
+                        ·       ·       ·       ·       ·
+
+                 “One fills the quiver with fresh flowers
+                 Then comes and empties it on the bed.”
+
+  Poliziano also supplied to Raphael the theme of the Galatea, in the
+  Farnesina, _Giostra_, I. cxviii (Fig. 192a)
+
+          “Two shapely dolphins draw a car;
+          On it is Galatea who holds the reins,
+          And they swimming breathe with equal breath.
+          Around circle the more amorous throng.
+          One spits out the salt wave, the others circle round;
+          One seems to play at love and dallies.
+          The fair nymph with her trusted sisters
+          Laughs charmingly at their hoarse singing.”
+
+  Titian, too, may have had in mind the _Giostra_, I. cxi, when he
+  composed his Bacchus and Ariadne. (Fig. 260)
+
+           “Comes upon a car covered with ivy and rushes
+           Drawn by two tigers—Bacchus
+           And with him it seems that fauns and mænads
+           Tread the deep sand and shout with raised voices.
+           One we see staggering; others seem to stumble,
+           One clashes the cymbal; others seem to laugh.
+           One drinks from a horn, one from his hand.
+           One has grabbed a nymph, and one turns handsprings.”
+
+
+               LEONARDO AND THE ACADEMIC IDEA OF PAINTING
+
+  The extraordinary mixture of liberality and dogmatism, of naturalism
+  and taste in Leonardo is best illustrated from his own _Trattato della
+  Pittura_. I quote from the standard edition of H. Ludwig, Vienna,
+  1882, using his paragraph numbers:
+
+
+         MODELLING IN CHIAROSCURO AS THE PAINTER’S FIRST OBJECT
+
+  ¶ 412. “The first object of the painter is to make a flat plane appear
+  as a body in relief and projecting from that plane, and he who in such
+  art excels the others, deserves the greater praise, and such research,
+  or rather crown of such science, is born from light and shade, or I
+  mean chiaroscuro. Then he who flees from shadows, flees also from the
+  glory of our art among noble spirits and gains it with the ignorant
+  herd, which desires nothing in painting but beauty of colors,
+  forgetting entirely the beauty and wonder of showing a flat thing as
+  if it were in relief.”
+
+
+                      ON JUDGING A PAINTER’S WORK
+
+  ¶ 483. “The first thing is that you consider the figures, if they have
+  the relief which the place and light demand....
+
+  “The second is that the scattering, or rather distribution of the
+  figures be made according to the way in which you wish the story to
+  be.
+
+  “The third is that the figures be alert and intent on their particular
+  purpose.”
+
+
+                ON THE MOVEMENTS THAT MARK THE EMOTIONS
+
+  ¶ 122. “The most important thing which can be found in the theory of
+  painting are the movements appropriate to the mental state of each
+  being,—as desire, scorn, wrath, pity and the like.”
+
+
+                   THE STEPS IN A PAINTER’S EDUCATION
+
+  ¶ 82. “Draw first designs of a good master made in the fashion of
+  nature and not mannered; then from a relief, in the presence of a
+  drawing made from that relief; then from a good natural object.”
+
+
+                       JUDGMENT VERSUS DEXTERITY
+
+  ¶ 62. “That painter who does not doubt learns little. When the work
+  surpasses the judgment of the worker, that worker acquires little, and
+  when the judgment surpasses the work, that work never ceases to grow
+  better, unless avarice prevents it.”
+
+
+                 ON USE OF MEMORY IN THE NIGHT WATCHES
+
+  ¶ 67. “Also I have proved it to be of no little use to me, when you
+  find yourself in bed in the dark, to repeat in the imagination the
+  things studied earlier, or other things of notable sort comprised in
+  subtle thought, and this is truly a laudable act and useful in fixing
+  things in memory.”
+
+
+                         ON SELECTIVE IMITATION
+
+  ¶ 58a. “The painter should be solitary and think over what he sees and
+  discuss with himself, selecting the most excellent parts of the
+  species of whatever he sees, acting after the fashion of a mirror
+  which transmutes into as many colors as there are things what is set
+  before it. And so doing he will seem to be himself a second nature.”
+
+  ¶ 98. “Winter evenings should be used by young painters in the study
+  of things prepared in summer, that is bring together all the nudes
+  which you have made in the summer, and make a choice of the better
+  limbs and bodies and practice from them and fix them in mind.”
+
+
+                           ON HIGH STANDARDS
+
+  ¶ 59. “If you painter will seek to please the first painters, you will
+  make your pictures well, because they alone can guide you truthfully,
+  but if you wish to please those who are not masters, your pictures
+  will have few foreshortenings and little relief or alert movement, and
+  thereby you will fail in that part in which painting is held to be an
+  excellent art, that is in giving an effect of relief where there is
+  nothing in relief.”
+
+
+             ON AVOIDING HARSH SHADOWS AND SUNLIGHT EFFECTS
+
+  ¶ 87. “The light cut off from the shade too clearly is greatly blamed
+  by painters. Hence to avoid such a fault, if you paint bodies in the
+  open country, you will not make the figures as lighted by the sun, but
+  imagine some sort of mist or transparent clouds to be interposed
+  between the object and the sun, whence, since the figure is not
+  emphasized by the sunlight, the demarcations of light and shade will
+  not be emphasized.”
+
+
+                       ON THE MOST PLEASING LIGHT
+
+  ¶ 138. “If you have a court yard that can be covered as you wish with
+  a linen awning, that will be a good light; or when you wish to draw
+  anyone, draw him in bad weather, towards nightfall, and make the
+  sitter stand with his back to one of the walls of this court. In the
+  streets set your mind towards nightfall on the faces of the men and
+  women, in bad weather, how much grace and sweetness appears in them.”
+
+
+                     ON COUNTERPOISE OF THE FIGURE
+
+  ¶ 88. “Do not have the head turned the way the breast is, nor the arm
+  the way the leg is; and if the head is turned over the right shoulder
+  make the parts lower on the left than on the right” [and vice versa].
+
+  At first blush this stylistic counsel flatly contradicts Leonardo’s
+  principle that poses and emotions should express state of mind, but as
+  a matter of fact many expressive movements obey this law of
+  counterpoise or active equilibrium. Leonardo himself generally finds
+  motives for such poses. Such successors as Raphael and Andrea del
+  Sarto habitually used such poses without other excuse than that of
+  their own inherent gracefulness.
+
+
+                   ON FREEDOM IN MAKING A COMPOSITION
+
+  ¶ 189. “Have you never considered the poets composing their verses?
+  They take no trouble to make fine letters, nor do they mind cancelling
+  some of the verses and making them better. Do you, then, painter, make
+  the limbs of your figures roughly and attend first to the movements
+  appropriate to the mental state of the beings composing your story,
+  rather than to the beauty and rightness of their members, because you
+  must understand that if such a composition in the rough will meet the
+  needs of the invention, it will please all the more after it has been
+  adorned with the perfection appropriate to all its parts. I have seen
+  in the clouds and spots on the wall what has aroused me to fine
+  inventions of various things, since these spots though entirely
+  without perfection in any part, did not lack perfection in their
+  movements and other actions.”
+
+
+                   PAINTING THE GRANDCHILD OF NATURE
+
+  ¶ 12. “If you shall despise painting, which is the only imitator of
+  all the apparent works of nature, assuredly you will despise also that
+  careful investigation which with philosophical and careful speculation
+  considers all the qualities of forms: the sea, place, plants, animals,
+  herbage, flowers, which are enveloped in light and shade. And truly
+  this speculation is science and the legitimate child of Nature, since
+  painting is born of this nature. But, to speak more correctly, we will
+  say grandchild of nature, since all apparent things are born of
+  Nature, of which things painting is born. Hence rightly we shall call
+  it the grandchild of this nature and the kinsman of God.”
+
+
+                  THAT THE PAINTER SHOULD BE SOLITARY
+
+  ¶ 50. “The painter, or rather designer, should be solitary, and
+  especially when he is intent on speculations and considerations which
+  continually appearing before the eyes give matter to be well kept in
+  memory. And if you are alone, you will be entirely yours. And if you
+  shall be accompanied by a single companion you will be half yours, and
+  so much the less as the indiscretion of your companionship shall be
+  the greater ... And if you would say ‘I will do in my fashion, I will
+  hold myself apart’ ... one cannot serve two masters. You will fulfil
+  badly the duty of a companion, and worse the aim of reasoning on the
+  art ... And if you say ‘I will withdraw myself entirely,’ ... I tell
+  you you will be held a madman, but, lo, thus doing you will at least
+  be alone.”
+
+  Here Leonardo takes sharpest issue with the easy-going sociable
+  methods which for generations had held in the painter’s bottega, and
+  shows himself an individualist of modern type.
+
+
+                       RUBENS’ PRAISE OF LEONARDO
+
+  Peter Paul Rubens, who had copied Leonardo’s battle-piece, has left
+  the following perceptive tribute to the genius of his predecessor:
+
+  “Nothing escaped him that related to the expression of his subject:
+  and by the heat of his fancy, as well as by the solidity of his
+  judgment, he raised divine things by human, and understood how to give
+  men those different degrees, that elevate them to the character of
+  heroes.
+
+  “The best of the examples which he has left us is our Lord’s Supper,
+  which he painted at Milan, wherein he has represented the apostles in
+  places that suit with them, and our Saviour in the most honourable,
+  the midst of all, having nobody near enough to press or incommode him.
+  His attitude is grand, his arms are in a loose and free posture, to
+  show the greater grandeur, while the apostles appear agitated one side
+  to the other by the vehemence of their inquietude, and in which there
+  is, however, no meanness, nor any indecent action to be seen. In short
+  by his profound speculations he arrived to such a degree of
+  perfection, that it seems to me impossible to speak so well of him as
+  he deserves, and much more to imitate him.”
+
+  _The Art of Painting ... Translated from the French of Monsieur De
+  Piles_, London about 1725. p. 107 f.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 167. Raphael. Count Baldassare Castiglione, author of “the
+    Courtier.”—_Louvre._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+                             THE GOLDEN AGE
+                        RAPHAEL AND MICHELANGELO
+
+  On pride and humility in Art—The new Grand Style defined—Umbrian
+      humility in the Early Painters—Gentile da Fabriano—The Fifteenth
+      Century—Luca Signorelli—Perugino—Raphael; Early development—Roman
+      triumph—Michelangelesque aberrations—Michelangelo.
+
+
+Whether the greatest art is grounded in pride or in humility has divided
+the critics. To most it will seem evident that the artist’s assertion of
+his own powers is an act of pride—a pride of person which is often
+reinforced by that of nation and race. As fine a critic as John Ruskin,
+on the contrary, has insisted that the greatest art springs from
+humility—reverence for God, admiration of His works in nature, homage
+also to one’s earthly master in art and withal to the great tradition of
+one’s craft. The difference is world-wide. According to one
+interpretation or the other, the work of art becomes an act of display
+or of worship. Such opposites in the realm of analysis often meet
+comfortably enough in the realm of practice. A haughty individualist
+like Leonardo da Vinci insists that his investigations of appearance and
+reality lead to that knowledge of God without which love is impossible.
+And the Golden Age of painting itself, though mostly based on corporate
+and individual pride, has also its infusion of humility. If Michelangelo
+represents the flowering of three generations of research, of that pride
+of intellect which ever ruled Florence, so equally does Raphael
+represent many generations of humility and teachableness in his native
+Umbria. For about ten years pride and humility worked side by side, and
+that was the Golden Age. Pride prevailed over humility, and the
+classical style of Central Italy sunk to a pretentious exhibitionism.
+
+Our theme is that brief moment of accomplishment which witnessed the
+rise of Rome as centre of art, and the greatest painting of Raphael and
+Michelangelo. We need not hesitate to apply to it the oldfashioned term,
+the Golden Age. But we shall not use it with quite the oldfashioned
+unction, knowing as we do the heavy sacrifice involved in attaining the
+so-called Grand Style, and the still heavier penalty it imposed upon the
+art that succeeded it.
+
+The Florentines believed that painting had reached its height in the
+years 1504 and 1505, when Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo were
+designing the great competitive battle-pieces for the Priors’ Palace at
+Florence, and Raphael was painting his loveliest Madonnas. Modern
+critics might rather be inclined to date the grand climacteric from a
+pathetic incident of a few years later. In 1508, when Pope Julius II
+wished to decorate the new ante-rooms of the Vatican, the famous
+_Stanze_ he called the best of the older painters—Sodoma, Perugino,
+Signorelli, among others. No sooner had they begun to decorate the
+vaults than their work seemed inadequate. They were turned off
+incontinently and the young man Raphael called down from Florence to
+take their place. The incident shows how suddenly the new beauty dawned
+upon the world of art patronage. Vividly conscious of its advent, the
+Italians were less conscious of the equally sudden waning of the great
+style. With the wisdom of hindsight we can now see that the whole
+development was a marvelous spurt, lasting a bare dozen years, from the
+battle cartoons of 1505 to Raphael’s tapestry cartoons of 1516. Raphael
+and Michelangelo, who created the lasting glory of the Renaissance, also
+dug its grave. Before considering the creative and destructive energies
+of these two giants, we may profitably note the characteristics of what
+whether for praise or mockery has ever since been called the Grand
+Style. And here I have little to do beyond condensing Professor
+Wölfflin’s excellent book.
+
+In the Grand Style the accent was on maturity, decorum, and measured
+power. Vivacious and picturesque incidents are eschewed. The new art
+demands simplicity and centrality. The human figure dominates the
+compositions. The frame is filled densely with a complicated group. The
+figures themselves are ample and mature. The Madonna is no longer a
+girl, but a gracious woman of thirty years. The Christ Child is no
+longer an infant, but a well-grown lad, whose supple curves harmonize
+with those of grown folks. As to pose, the figures no longer are
+casually arranged or in some posture required by a specific action. They
+are cast in conventional poses which bring out the active beauty of the
+body. Heads swing across shoulders, the upper body turns against the
+thrust of the lower, the arms counter the action of the legs. Such
+counterpoise is always active, implying motion. Straight lines give way
+to weavings of S curves—so many springs whose tension is kept equal.
+Violent motion or torsion of the body is frequent, but one motion or
+torsion must be immediately taken up and balanced by some equivalent.
+Following the general principle of centrality, colors are fewer and more
+studied. In portraiture, for example, we no longer have landscape or
+elaborate interiors, but plain dark backgrounds. At all points we have
+left spontaneity and happy accident behind and have entered a world of
+exquisite calculation. Society had moved with art towards ideals of
+simplicity and decorum. You no longer find the braided, beribboned and
+jewelled coiffures of Botticelli’s women, but serene brows with the hair
+drawn back evenly from its part and disposed as a mass in a net. Young
+gallants wear their abundant locks much the same way and sport
+seignorial spade beards. Old men are even more magnificently provided
+with beards of monumental scale. Such men are clothed no longer in
+parti-colored raiment, but in richly sober black. The ideal is dignity,
+composure, and magnanimity. You may trace it through all its intricacies
+of casuistry in what is still one of the best pictures of what a
+gentleman and lady should be, the _Cortegiano_ of Baldassare
+Castiglione. It was finished in 1516 while his friend Raphael was
+designing the tapestry cartoons. And you may read much of this high
+teaching in Count Castiglione’s own sensitive and comprehending face,
+Figure 167, as Raphael then painted it. It breathes that fine interplay
+of pride and humility which was the mainspring of the Renaissance, and
+it brings us back to the double origin of the Grand Style in the pride
+of Florence and the humility of Umbria.
+
+Umbria in the narrow sense includes only the lovely stretches of the
+upper Tiber, and the rolling banks of Lakes Trasimene and Bolsena. But
+all the way over the mountains to the Adriatic the civilization was of a
+similar type, and so the art. Thus we may reckon the Adriatic Marches
+from Ancona to Ravenna as Umbrian from the point of view of the
+historian of painting. There were no great cities and little commerce.
+It is a region of small hill-top communes within the walls of which the
+peasants huddled for protection at night, going down to the fields in
+the day. It was a country of hot passions and violent feuds, and equally
+of religious enthusiasm and mystical piety. Great heresies had swept the
+land and so had the joyous and practical Christianity of St. Francis,
+greatest of Umbria’s sons. We have much of the volatility that we noted
+in Siena, without, however, a capital city to centralize it, and we also
+have what Siena lacked—an abiding and beautiful humility. Umbria knew
+her provincial estate and accepted its limitations.
+
+Nowhere is this more plainly shown than in her art. For two centuries
+she was in the position of inducing foreign artists to come in, ever in
+an attitude of admiration and docility. Thus Giunta of Pisa, Cimabue and
+his Roman contemporaries; Giotto and his Florentine pupils; Simone
+Martini and other Sienese painters decorated the chief monument of
+Umbria, the Basilica of St. Francis at Assisi. Their work extended over
+a century to say 1330. Later still Sienese artists were employed at
+Perugia, among others, Taddeo Bartoli, and the region promised to become
+an artistic dependency of Siena. But with the dawning of the Renaissance
+and the extension of Florentine power beyond Arezzo, Florentine artists
+are preferred. We find Domenico Veneziano at Perugia, in 1438, in the
+pay of the ruling Baglioni. A little earlier Fra Angelico had painted
+for several years at Cortona. In the early fifties Benozzo Gozzoli
+painted his Franciscan frescoes at Montefalco, and was otherwise active
+in the Tiber valley. In 1468 Fra Filippo Lippi was called to Spoleto.
+Soon after, Umbria learned to depend on her own artists. In the Adriatic
+Marches there had been a limited penetration of Giotto’s style, chiefly
+by way of Padua and Rimini. By the end of the century the Lorenzettian
+manner dominated. It was succeeded by the influence of the Venetian
+Renaissance as exemplified by such rather backward artists as the
+Vivarini and Carlo Crivelli. Still later the diffused influence of
+Giovanni Bellini meets harmoniously that of Perugino.
+
+Thus in humility and teachableness Umbria very slowly, and through most
+various stages of discipleship, worked out her own originality. And when
+it came one felt deeply in it the teaching of her spacious intervals and
+blue mountains.
+
+It is so with the first notable painter that Umbria produced, Gentile da
+Fabriano.[61] He felt landscape as no artist before him. Born about
+1360, he was trained by his fellow townsman, Alegretto Nuzi. Alegretto
+had made sound studies at Florence and had also observed with admiration
+the pictures of the Lorenzetti. His own altar-pieces have the Sienese
+splendor with a touch of sweetness that is wholly Umbrian. His pupil
+Gentile prefers more ornate and florid compositions such as we see in
+his early Coronation of the Virgin at Milan. Soon Gentile gave himself
+to the panoramic narrative style, outdoing the Lorenzetti in
+elaboration, vivacity, and gracefulness. Superficially he resembles such
+Florentine contemporaries as Lorenzo Monaco and Masolino, but his mood
+is broader and more genial, and his decorative accent more splendid.
+Before 1410 he was called to Venice to paint in the new Ducal Palace.
+His animated historical frescoes were soon destroyed by fire, but his
+sojourn was long enough to impress his manner, through his pupil Jacopo,
+Bellini, and numerous imitators, on the Venetian narrative school.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 168. Gentile da Fabriano. Adoration of the Magi.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 169. Gentile da Fabriano. The Nativity. Predella piece from
+    Adoration of Magi.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Passing to Florence, he left there the fullest expression of his
+gracious talent in the resplendent Adoration of the Kings, Figure 168,
+now in the Uffizi, which was painted for Palla Strozzi’s chapel in the
+Trinità. It was signed in May 1423, and perhaps because it was the
+season of flowers, Gentile painted in the rich pilasters growing sprays
+of morning glory, iris, anemone, and cornflower. Within its fantastic
+Gothic frame we witness a pageant such as Italy often saw on holy
+days—the procession of the Wise man moving through her streets. Around
+the Mother and her Child devotion reigns, but soon the scene passes off
+into the tumult of waiting men-at-arms, of chafing steeds, and snarling
+animals of the chase. The color is a radiance of scarlet, crimson, azure
+and gold, after the Gothic fashion. But the picture is more than Gothic
+in the tender and almost atmospheric shading of the rolling hills in the
+background. Skilfully blending Sienese idealism with narrative breadth
+and vivacity, the picture is the last and most magnificent memorial to a
+chivalry now merely an afterglow, but dying with all the iridescence of
+the sunset hour.
+
+As is usually the case, the modern contribution of the picture is
+modestly made in the _predella_ panels. The Nativity, Figure 169, with
+the light radiating tenderly from the Christ Child and golden stars
+glimmering above the hill-top pastures is perhaps the first nocturne in
+art, and still one of the loveliest. The Flight into Egypt, shows a
+joyous sunrise creeping over the glad hills. The means are conventional,
+the highlights are touched in with gold, but the mood and effect are
+there. Young Masaccio surely considered these little panels before he
+undertook his more naturalistic adventure in structural light and shade.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 170. Andrea da Bologna. Madonna of Humility.—_Cleveland._
+]
+
+Soon Pope Martin V, returning from exile at Avignon and planning to
+restore the splendors of Christian Rome, called Gentile and set him to
+decorating the nave of St. John Lateran. Again fire has deprived us of
+the monumental works which constituted Gentile’s contemporary fame. We
+know that they won the praise of the greatest Flemish painter who
+visited Renaissance Italy, Rogier de la Pasture of Tournai. And two
+generations later crabbed Michelangelo declared almost sentimentally
+that Gentile was gentle both by name and by nature. For us it is
+important to note that Gentile forecast precisely the future triumphs of
+Raphael, carrying the glory of Umbrian painting widely through Italy
+before asserting it at Rome.
+
+Of course such work as Gentile’s was highly exceptional in the Umbrian
+Marches. The average state of things is represented by the shy and
+humble Madonnas which Francescuccio Ghisi repeated indefinitely. This
+type of Madonna of Humility is nowhere more delightfully represented
+than in the lovely panel at the Cleveland Museum, Figure 170, for which
+I have elsewhere suggested the attribution of Andrea da Bologna.[62] She
+is most unlike the majestic Madonnas of Florence and Siena. To assure us
+that this gentle Mother is after all Queen of Heaven and the Second Eve
+come for our salvation, the artist has given her a resplendent aureole
+with tiny miniatures of her champions, the apostles, and has stretched
+at her feet that First Eve in whom we all sinned. The picture will have
+been painted before 1380, and, with its Byzantine reminiscences, it well
+exemplifies the mediævalism that held its own in the Adriatic Marches
+long after Tuscany had set her face towards the Renaissance.
+
+It would add little to our survey of Umbria to dwell on Ottaviano Nelli
+at Urbino, a gently vivacious story-teller; nor yet on those early
+painters at Camerino and San Severino who tinged the softer native style
+with the splendid severity of the early Venetian manner. I pass their
+works with regret, for they are often lovely in their frank dependence
+on greater spirits. In a general survey the middle years of the
+fifteenth century in Umbria show rather little to attract us until the
+rise of Pietro Perugino. He emerges in an artistic world dominated in
+the Tiber Valley by the Florentine, Gozzoli, and beyond the mountains by
+Carlo Crivelli and the Vivarini. Such predecessor of Perugino as
+Benedetto Bonfigli of Perugia need not detain us. He had learned a
+little, a very little, from the Florentine, Domenico Veneziano, paints
+Madonnas with a modest ideality; and narratives, the life of St.
+Ercolano in the Communal Palace of Perugia, with abundant and muddled
+detail, after the fashion of Gozzoli and Domenico di Bartolo. His
+_bottega_ was a factory of those quaint and often terrible religious
+banners, Figure 171, which the devout Umbrians carried processionally to
+avert the recurrent plague. We need not dwell upon Perugino’s alleged
+master, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, whose ugly and emphatic draughtsmanship
+derives from Verrocchio and the Pollaiuoli. We may best appreciate
+Perugino’s extraordinary originality by considering contemporaries who
+came up with equal advantages. Lorenzo di San Severino exemplifies the
+usual Umbrian blend of Gozzoli and Venetian influences. And in such a
+picture as the Enthroned Madonna, Figure 172, in the Holden Collection,
+at Cleveland, he attains an ideality of feeling and a beauty of
+workmanship of the most refreshing sort. This picture must have been
+painted about 1490. It may represent the high mark reached in the
+Marches towards the end of the century—may thus dispense us from
+considering such inherently charming painters as Girolamo da Camerino
+and his fellow townsman Giovanni Boccatis.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 171. Bontigli Plague Banner. The Virgin protecting her Devotees
+    from plague Shafts hurled by Christ.—_Chiesa del Gonfalone,
+    Perugia._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 172. Lorenzo di San Severino. Madonna and Saints.—_Cleveland, O._
+]
+
+A very similar training produces more ambitious but hardly more pleasing
+results in Niccolò Liberatore of Foligno, (1430 to 1502). Early
+influenced by Gozzoli, he later aped the intensity of the Venetian,
+Carlo Crivelli. Niccolò thus chafes within the modest bounds proper to
+art in Umbria. He essays tragedy and too often achieves burlesque. He
+paints, like most of the Umbrians, processional banners, and also the
+most complicated altar-pieces, in which cusps, carving and pinnacles
+almost efface the Madonna and saints, who show a peasantlike uneasiness
+amid so much splendor. Such is the character of the triptych in the
+Vatican, which is dated 1466. It represents rather favorably Niccolò’s
+at once slender and ambitious talent.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 173. Melozzo da Forlì. Pope Sixtus IV and his Court.
+    Fresco.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+Such obscure artists as we have been considering[63] could maintain the
+idealism out of which a Perugino should grow, could provide his
+spiritual background. They could do little to nurture him on the
+positive side. That task fell to men of greater power, who had saturated
+themselves with Florentine realism—Melozzo da Forlì[64] and Luca
+Signorelli. Both were pupils of that giant among Umbro-Florentines,
+Piero della Francesca. Melozzo was born in 1438 and early employed by
+the Dukes of Urbino. He practices an energetic draughtsmanship both in
+decoration and portraiture, indulges the boldest foreshortening, adds a
+positive athleticism to that pride of life which we have noted in more
+static form in his master. Thus his frescoes for the domes of the
+sacristy of the Santa Casa at Loreto, and the justly famous fragments of
+playing angels from the demolished sacristy of old St. Peter’s at Rome
+reveal a strength and measured audacity which at once rival the
+contemporary effort of Mantegna at Mantua and forecast the more pagan
+exuberance of Mantegna’s greatest pupil, Correggio. This robust and
+masculine manner appears in a more restrained and traditional form in
+the superb fresco portraits of Pope Sixtus IV and his Court, Figure 173,
+in the Vatican. Such work transcends Umbrian standards.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 174. Luca Signorelli. Pan, God of Music.—_Berlin._
+]
+
+Even more does the intense and rugged art of Melozzo’s fellow disciple,
+Luca Signorelli.[65] Born at Cortona in 1441, we know little of his
+early career except that he studied with Piero della Francesca, passed
+to Florence and was permanently swayed by the anatomical and passionate
+realism of Antonio Pollaiuolo. Signorelli’s early work is obscure to us.
+We may well study him first in the pastoral mythology, Pan, God of
+Harmony, Figure 174, now at Berlin. It was painted about 1490 for the
+Medici, for the villa for which Botticelli designed the Primavera and
+Birth of Venus. It is inferior to its companion pieces in imagination
+and delicacy, and particularly in color, but in its own measured way it
+echoes delightfully the poetic wistfulness of early Florentine humanism.
+Similar qualities of imagination are in the great fresco The Last Days
+of Moses, in the Sistine Chapel, painted in 1482 after his design. But
+the vein is exceptional in Signorelli. Soon he gave himself to a rugged
+realism, unpleasing in his religious themes. Meeting little favor in the
+great cities, he painted many altar-pieces for the Umbrian towns. These
+pictures are stern in spirit and leaden in color. There is no attempt to
+please. Relentlessly Signorelli pursued his personal quest of expressive
+anatomy. Legend tells us that, dry-eyed, he sketched the fair body of
+his own murdered son for the picture of the Entombment at Cortona. We
+see him introducing nude figures into the background of the round
+Madonna at the Uffizi, Figure 175. The experimentalist dominates the
+artist.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 175. Signorelli. Madonna.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+In the year 1500, being nearly sixty, he found the real use for his
+truculent art. He was called to paint in the Chapel of S. Brixio, in the
+Cathedral of Orvieto. The subject was the Last Judgment. More than fifty
+years earlier Fra Angelico had begun the work with angel choirs in the
+vaults. With a far different temper Signorelli continued the task. At
+the entrance and back of the Chapel he showed mankind scourged by the
+final plagues. In the four arched spaces at the sides he set The
+Preaching of Antichrist, a sinister scene detailed with all the
+circumstantiality of the Early Renaissance. For the three remaining
+scenes, the Resurrection of the Dead, Figure 176, the Condemnation of
+the Sinful, Figure 177, and the Reward of the Just, he invented new
+modes both of interpretation and of composition. How far we are from the
+solemn assizes of Giotto or the garden and labyrinth motives of Fra
+Angelico! In every case we have in the lunette celestial figures, or at
+least supernal, while below we have swarming masses of nude folk,
+bewildered at the forgotten light, aspiring heavenwards or shrinking
+from the clutches of the fiends.
+
+What distinguishes these frescoes is a magnificently just
+matter-of-factness. Only one question is raised by the artist. Given the
+literal truth of the Book of Revelations, how would the last judgment
+look, and how would one feel if he were indeed there? So he reasons it
+out—the struggle of the skeletons to push up to the light, their
+reinvestiture successively with sinews, muscles and skin, the
+embarrassment as a half assembled body vainly seeks recognition. And all
+this he contrasts with the confident, strong bearing of the archangels
+above. Again in the Ascent of the Just to Heaven, the aspiration is
+chiefly physical, magnificently so. These clean strong bodies chiefly
+wish to escape the corruption from which the last trump has summoned
+them. And even the guardian angels are less tender than jubilant at the
+thought of fit recruits to replenish St. Michael’s celestial militia.
+Equally the damned wince, not from conscience, but from physical dread
+of the chains and claws and the imminence of the eternal fires.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 176. Luca Signorelli. The General Resurrection.—_Cathedral,
+    Orvieto._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 177. Luca Signorelli. The Souls of the Damned.—_Cathedral,
+    Orvieto._
+]
+
+This sturdy, upright art seems hardly Italian. The spirit of it is
+ruthless and Northern. It mitigates nothing, tells pretty much
+everything, presents the body in its ugliness, disregards obvious
+considerations of style. Yet as a successful blend of a vast technical
+experiment in anatomy with an honest and powerful effort of imagination,
+this is one of the most remarkable achievements of the Italian
+Renaissance. It has little of the Italian nobility, but it powerfully
+influenced those who had. Perugino and Raphael imitated Signorelli’s
+orderly arrangement of his scenes in a double, vertical order, and
+Michelangelo fed his dream of a heroic world of splendid nudity from the
+drastic visions of Signorelli. Over-rich and over-emphatic as Signorelli
+is, he is also an elemental, tonic power. No one is quite the same after
+a visit to the Chapel of S. Brixio.
+
+If Signorelli was the greatest character in Umbria before Raphael,
+Pietro Perugino was the finest intelligence and taste. He was born in
+1446 at Città della Pieve and at nine years old was put with a poor
+Perugian painter. His early activity is matter only of ingenious
+conjecture.[66] There is an ambiguous range of pictures variously
+ascribed to him and to Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, a difficult and rather
+unimportant problem which I willingly let alone. What is certain is that
+in his early twenties Perugino was studying with Verrocchio at Florence
+alongside of Leonardo da Vinci. By 1481 and 1482 Perugino emerges
+artistically full-grown in the Sistine Chapel.
+
+His superiority, as shown in the fresco of the Giving of the Keys to
+Peter, Figure 118, and in numerous works of his forty-two remaining
+years, is so uniform and almost monotonous that its greatness has until
+recently passed unnoticed. Only such critics as Mr. Berenson and
+Professor Wölfflin have done him full justice. He worked upon perfectly
+clear and conscious ideals of simplicity, symmetry, and spaciousness; in
+all of which he took issue with his times. Rejecting the picturesque
+richness and confusion of the Early Renaissance, he took counsel of the
+Byzantine painters and of Fra Angelico at San Marco. They taught him the
+worth of simple geometrical forms of figure composition, and how to
+sacrifice details to broad effects. That his groups disposed in simple
+pyramids, oblongs, or ovals should not seem too bare, he cunningly
+varied the positions of the figures, thus relieving the severity of the
+underlying symmetry. Every tilted head, pointed foot and swaying thigh
+has its precise compositional value. As for the figures, there is no
+strenuousness of draughtsmanship, they are simply good enough. A
+principle of artistic economy, alien to the spirit of the moment, rules
+here as elsewhere.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 178. Perugino. Mystical Crucifixion. Fresco.—_Santa Maria
+    Maddalena de’ Pazzi. Florence._
+]
+
+So far he appears as a critic and amender of the Early Renaissance
+style. His positive contribution was a particularly spacious and lovely
+sort of landscape, an immensity of light and air to set behind the
+restricted patterns of his figures. This landscape is a beautiful
+generalization of the scenery of the upper Tiber valley. The forms are
+few. Feathery trees mark the middle distance; a river valley opens
+gently with interlocking banks toward distant blue mountains. Above a
+silvery horizon, the heavens gradually deepen to an intense blue,
+accentuated by sparse floating clouds. There are few colors, a warm
+brown, a fresh green, a paler and a deeper blue, a variety of grays.
+With these simple means is attained a sense of infinite space and of
+encompassing peace.
+
+All these perfections are in the great frescoed Crucifixion Figure 178,
+in the convent of Santa Maria Maddelena dei Pazzi, at Florence. The date
+is 1495, Perugino’s fifty-second year. The lyrical quietism of the
+effect rests on delicate evasions of the very formal symmetry. Such
+features as the tilted head of the Saint John and the three trees at the
+left balancing the Magdalen at the right of the cross are essential.
+Indeed any slight change either in the position of the figures or the
+lines of the landscape would produce a discord.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 179. Perugina. Enthroned Madonna.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+We have a very similar effect with the addition of a stately and simple
+architecture in the enthroned Madonna of the Vatican. Figure 179. Again
+the formality of the pyramidal pattern is relieved by varied
+dispositions of the figures which individually considered may seem
+affected, but which are essential to the composition. More overtly
+emotional but still restrained is the Deposition, Figure 180a, of the
+Uffizi Gallery. It is arranged as an oval with catenary internal curves,
+anticipating much more complicated patterns of Raphael. At this moment,
+1494, no living artist but Leonardo could have woven this group together
+with such certainty of taste, and he could have hardly equalled its
+broad and serene landscape.
+
+In the first years of the new century Perugino decorated the merchants’
+exchange of Perugia, the Cambio, with frescoes partly religious, partly
+moral and symbolical. The most famous represent the Virtues, Figure 180,
+in pairs, hovering in the heavens with their representatives below. For
+example, Prudence and Justice with the great law-givers. So Fortitude
+and Temperance are represented respectively by the venerable forms of
+brave Horatius, and Leonidas; of Cato and Cincinnatus. It seems that
+Perugino executed most of this latter decoration through assistants, and
+it has been suggested that Raphael is responsible both for the design
+and painting of the beautiful Sibyls.[67]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 180. Perugino. Prudence and Justice with their Representatives.
+    Fresco.—_Cambio, Perugia._
+]
+
+Like most of his contemporaries Perugino outlived his fame. He was
+insulted by Michelangelo, criticized for repeating his figures, thrust
+out of the Vatican in 1508 and superseded by his former helper, Raphael.
+And his exquisite art in his later years shows a certain relaxation. He
+died of the plague in 1524 and was denied Christian burial, although in
+his day he had painted plague banners to protect the faithful.
+
+The known atheism of Perugino affords a curious problem. How reconcile
+it with the mild and gentle religiosity of his art? Were he a modern
+artist, one might hold that he entered by æsthetic sympathy into
+experiences of religion which his rational self denied. For an atheist
+of the Renaissance the explanation seems too subtle. They were of tough
+fibre and kept their sympathy logically in hand. Mr. Berenson has
+offered the ingenious explanation that in his noble composition in space
+Perugino appealed to emotions which are so nearly akin to religion as to
+be readily substituted therefor. In the great spaces of Perugino the
+spirit finds liberation and a sense of the infinite. Such intuition of
+infinity one finds also in personal religion, and the two experiences
+are in a degree interchangeable. Æsthetically satisfactory, this
+explanation may fail to convince a devout person. He will want to know
+how the art of an avowed atheist enthralled the pious folk inhabiting
+the valley sanctified by the memory of St. Francis. Whatever be the
+explanation, the space composition of Perugino later sufficed to express
+Raphael’s vision of the central mystery of Christianity, of the nobility
+of pagan intellect and of the serene splendor of the Grecian Olympians.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 180_a._> Perugino. The Deposition.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+Raphael Sanzio[68] is the finest example of the Umbrian virtue of
+teachableness. His course is a series of exquisitely felt admirations.
+His readiness to assimilate any sort of excellence was his strength, and
+at times his weakness, for he was not always self-critical enough to
+reject merits alien to his own personality. His admitted primacy rests
+on perfection of composition, and that perfection represented a
+beautiful synthesis of the methods of Perugino, Fra Bartolommeo, and
+Leonardo da Vinci. In dramatic power, force of draughtsmanship, and
+charm of color many of his contemporaries surpassed him. His, indeed, is
+a triumph of tact and judgment, and not of any single achievement. He
+seems one of the young men of the Platonic dialogues come back to
+earth—graciously prudent, gently effective, superior yet companionable.
+He approached art as his fellow Umbrian, St. Francis, approached life,
+with friendly confidence. He was equally at home with noble and artisan,
+with austere prelate and libertine humanist. Men readily gave him their
+loyalty and women their love.
+
+Raphael Sanzio was born at Urbino in 1483. His father, Giovanni, a
+mediocre poet and painter, left him an orphan at eleven. Raphael’s first
+steps in painting were probably guided by Timoteo Viti, who practiced,
+partly under Perugino’s influence, the timidly idyllic style of the
+Northern Marches—Bologna and Ferrara. Such boyish efforts of Raphael as
+the Orleans Madonna, the Three Graces, and the Dream of a Knight, in the
+National Gallery show Raphael’s complete assimilation of this idyllic
+manner. The little picture at London in which a stripling Hercules
+slumbers between an attractive girlish Wisdom and a most innocent effigy
+of Vice—holding the flower that signifies the primrose path—shows us
+Raphael at seventeen and by no means precocious.
+
+In the year 1500 he was called from Urbino to work in Perugino’s home
+shop at Perugia, soon rising to the position of foreman. In four years
+he made the most devout and complete assimilation of his master’s style.
+Such pictures as the Coronation of Mary, in the Vatican, and the
+Marriage of the Virgin, Figure 181, at Milan, would surely be reckoned
+as consummate Perugino’s were it not for signatures and old tradition.
+The Marriage of the Virgin in particular is merely a rearrangement of
+Perugino’s composition for the Giving of the Keys to Peter. But Raphael
+has eliminated unnecessary incidents and has outdone Perugino himself in
+sweetness and calm. The picture was finished in 1504, and that year
+Raphael took letters of recommendation from his first patroness, the
+Duchess of Urbino, to the Magistracy of Florence.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 181. Raphael. Marriage of the Virgin.—_Milan._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 182. Raphael. Maddalena Doni.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+Imagine a youngster of twenty-one who has diligently mastered a
+pictorial style only to learn that it is already obsolete. That is
+Raphael taking the manner of Perugino to a Florence agog over the battle
+cartoons of Leonardo and Michelangelo. The coolness with which young
+Raphael faced this emergency is characteristic. In four years he made
+himself over into a realistic draughtsman. Abandoning the readymade
+faces and figures of Perugino, he wisely held to Perugino’s sweetness
+and spacious compositional patterns. Young Raphael achieves an
+extraordinary act of criticism. He takes from the reformers just what he
+needs and no more—from Leonardo his incisiveness and psychology as a
+draughtsman and his dense and rich compositional patterns, from Fra
+Bartolommeo his dignity and monumentality, from Michelangelo very little
+as yet; and, withal, he retains whatever still seemed valuable from his
+Umbrian experience. Thus with resolute and unperturbed intelligence
+within four years he completely reconstructed his style, and put himself
+on a parity with older contemporaries who had been experimenting for a
+score of years.
+
+The steps of this re-education are most interesting. In 1505 he did the
+portraits of Agnolo Doni and his wife Maddalena, Figure 182. The posture
+of the woman is that of Leonardo’s Mona Lisa. The draughtsmanship and
+characterization are severe, the hint of Umbrian landscape is a
+survival. In later portraits we shall see the elimination of
+accessories, the line yielding to the most refined modelling in light
+and dark, the effect concentrated without insistency. A comparison of
+the Doni portraits with those of ten years later, the Julius II and the
+Fornarina, will tell better than words of the tendency of Raphael’s
+portraiture towards its ultimate mastery.
+
+In 1505 Raphael returned for a time to Perugino to paint the fresco of
+the Trinity at the Convent of San Severo. In the splendid geometrical
+pattern he has already improved on the flat groupings of Perugino. The
+consistory of Saints bends back in depth after the fashion of a
+semi-dome. Raphael borrows the new motive from Fra Bartolommeo’s fresco
+of the Last Judgment painted in 1499 for the Florentine Hospital of
+Santa Maria Nuova. Sixteen years later Perugino added the languid saints
+at the base of the Trinity, a touching reversal of the natural relations
+of master and pupil. As for Raphael, in a single experiment he has
+mastered the sort of symmetrical composition in depth which should
+suffice within five years for his masterpiece, the Disputa.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 183. Raphael. Madonna del Granduca.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 184. Raphael. La Belle Jardinière.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+The matronly sweetness of Raphael’s early madonnas has won them
+affection from the first. With increasing dignity, they retain a hint of
+the girlish refinement of their predecessors of the Early Renaissance.
+But they are less assertively fastidious, more normal and natural. All
+these obvious reasons for liking them are sound, and these pictures
+afford as well an insight into Raphael’s consciously directed studies.
+The effect is ever towards richer and more complicated composition, and
+towards more interesting and stylistic dispositions of the figures. The
+naturalness is that of taste and calculation. Near the beginning of the
+series we have the lovely Madonna of the Grand Duke, 1505, Figure 183.
+The upright, frontal position and form and serene oval of the face
+recall Perugino. But reality has supervened,—Perugino never painted such
+a Bambino,—and for the sake of concentration the background is kept
+plain. We see in the Madonna of the Tempi Family, at Munich, the Madonna
+turned in three-quarters position, the pose energized, the body swaying
+in a slight counterpoise. Then he tries seated poses which offer the
+triangular pattern of Leonardo. Perhaps the earliest of this series is
+the lovely Cowper Madonna, now in the Widener Collection. Soon he adds
+figures, constructs the pyramids more ornately and restores the
+background of landscape. At the head of this line is the Madonna of the
+Finch in the Pitti. It illustrates that gracious formality which
+Leonardo established in the Madonna of the Rocks. Finding the balance of
+the two standing nude children a little too obvious, Raphael carries the
+motive to its perfection in the Belle Jardinière of the Louvre. Figure
+184. Here, to break the rigid symmetry, the St. John kneels, and
+superfluous trees have been cleared away from the background. He seeks
+further to enrich the pyramid, and in the Madonna of the Canigiani
+family, at Munich, Figure 185, finished in 1507, we have at once the
+densest of symmetries and the stylistic handling of all the figures in
+active and counterpoised attitudes. In two years the process is
+complete. Later, in the Madonna of the Fish and of the Pearl, executed
+by students, Raphael will adopt diagonal arrangements, he will take up
+the old Circular form in the Madonna of the Chair, and will amplify the
+simple patterns of Perugino in the Sistine Madonna and the Madonna of
+Foligno. The forms and faces will become graver, nobler, more mature,
+but the whole course is fully anticipated in the joyous and lucid years
+of experiment from 1505 to 1507.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 185. Raphael. Canigiani Holy Family.—_Munich._
+]
+
+In that year Raphael pulled himself together to produce a masterpiece
+and signally failed. So far he must have seemed only a charming painter,
+a more gracious Fra Bartolommeo or a more learned Albertinelli, he will
+now surpass Leonardo and equal Michelangelo—a perilous competition for a
+man of twenty-five. In 1507 Atalanta Baglioni of Perugia ordered a
+Deposition to be set over the tomb of her murdered son, the tyrant
+Astorre. Raphael, in a theme properly lyrical and pathetic, tries to add
+tumult and drama—tries too hard. At first he adopted a scheme very
+similar to that of Perugino’s masterpiece, with the dead Christ on the
+ground, a quietly mourning group and a spacious landscape. The design is
+shown in a pen sketch at Oxford. He rejects this motive as too quiet and
+familiar. By successive efforts and exaggerations he arrives at the
+picture which we now see in the Borghese Gallery. Figure 186. It has
+become a disagreeable tangle of legs, a display of over-muscular arms
+which support nothing—a welter of histrionic gestures. The clew to the
+trouble is in the effective but meaningless pose of the woman at the
+right, which is borrowed directly from Michelangelo’s Madonna of the
+Doni Family. Figure 195. The landscape no longer liberates the spirit,
+but almost crowds the figures out of the frame. Doubtless so
+self-critical an artist as Raphael learned much from this failure. It
+must have shown him that the rich density and measured dramatic effect
+of Leonardo were not as accessible as he had thought, and he accordingly
+restudied the whole problem of energetic monumental design. Moreover it
+showed him, at least for some years, that Michelangelo was the worst of
+models for him and threw him back upon his proper exemplars, Perugino
+and Fra Bartolommeo—in short, upon that native humility which was at
+once his charm as a man and his strength as an artist.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 186. Raphael. The Entombment.—_Borghese, Rome._
+]
+
+In 1508 Raphael was called to Rome through the influence of a former
+Urbino friend, Bramante, now the architect of new St. Peter’s. The task
+set by Pope Julius II was the decoration of the four new antechambers
+called the _Stanze_. About the same time Michelangelo began on the
+ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Thus the two artists worked within two
+hundred feet of each other, but held apart partly by a natural rivalry,
+and even more by the irascible and suspicious nature of Michelangelo.
+And two masterpieces were produced as from two different
+worlds—Michelangelo’s all tragic and perturbed, Raphael’s all hopeful
+and serene. Between 1509 and 1511 Raphael frescoes the Camera della
+Segnatura, mostly with his own hand. The scheme comprised the finest
+leading ideals of contemporary humanism, and the little room is the most
+important of documents for the student of the Renaissance. Religious
+authority, legal justice, secular philosophy and science, the arts—such
+are the four great themes impersonated on the side walls, and echoed in
+symbol and human illustration on the beautiful ceiling; these are the
+props of a perfect society.
+
+Religious authority and theology are represented by the famous fresco
+called erroneously the Dispute concerning the Sacrament, Figure 187.
+Christ, as the fully revealed member of the Trinity, sits in a heaven
+rayed and studded with gold; beside him sit the prophets and
+apostles—the actual witnesses of his passion. The seated group sweeps
+grandly back describing a sort of semi-dome in space. Below and
+precisely in the centre, on an altar, glitters the wafer which in the
+recurrent miracle of the Mass becomes Christ’s body. To right and left
+of the altar are closely compacted and agitated groups insisting on the
+truth of the miracle of transubstantiation. These are the martyrs and
+church doctors, those who after the apostolic age either in experience
+or divine intuition certified to the central mystery of the Church. The
+upper group is composed after the fashion of Fra Bartolommeo and
+Perugino, is a mere expansion of Raphael’s fresco at San Severo; the
+lower group is held together after the fashion of Leonardo da Vinci’s
+Last Supper, the vehemence of the particular gestures being assimilated
+in a running balance of thrust against thrust, so that the whole effect
+is of a rich and energetic harmony. The figures themselves are
+established adequately, but in draughtsmanship are inferior either to
+Leonardo’s or Michelangelo’s. With the thriftiness of a born decorator,
+Raphael makes the figure count in its place and beyond that takes no
+unnecessary pains. It might indeed be argued that the decoration would
+be worse as a whole if the parts were more perfect. Finally, note how
+essentially classical, Roman, juridical the motive is; how concrete and
+material. Raphael seeks to express nothing more mystical than the
+obvious equation of Christ and the host, and he merely cites a multitude
+of witnesses to prove that the equation is true. This very simplicity of
+motive has thoroughly humanized what might have been a tenuous theme.
+The picture is a magnificent conclave out of many ages, a symbol of the
+cumulative splendor of the Catholic tradition.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 187. Raphael. La Disputa—The Truth of the Eucharist.
+    Fresco.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 188. Raphael. The School of Athens. Fresco.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+On the opposite wall, in the School of Athens, Figure 188, Raphael
+pictures a similar continuity of human thought on the secular plane. The
+arched space opens into a vast basilica whose gods, represented as
+colossal statues at the sides, are Apollo and Minerva. Raphael has
+studied the Basilica of Constantine and has modestly scanned Bramante’s
+plans for new St. Peter’s. He invents a vaulted interior more impressive
+than any that man has ever built. Within finite bounds he suggests the
+infinity of Umbrian space. Without the figures, or with quite other
+figures, we should still have a great picture. But the group is as nobly
+disposed as the architecture. You may imagine a foreshortened ring of
+which the reverend forms of Plato and Aristotle are the twin jewels.
+Aristotle at the right is in the vigor of middle age as a scientist
+should be. His disciples crowd towards him or gather in secondary groups
+about some leader. Science is social and co-operative. Raphael puts
+himself in this group. Plato at the left is immensely old and feeble.
+Speculative philosophy requires only strength of spirit. His disciples
+are generally isolated in personal meditation. Philosophical truth is
+arrived at not in society but in solitude. Certain ardent young faces
+recall Leonardo da Vinci, and the construction of the group is his. We
+have linking motives, like that of sprawling Diogenes on the steps,
+curves that repeat or counter the vault above, turns and thrusts of
+bodies in active balance, an energetic variety within a serene harmony.
+The mood is less agitated than that of the Disputa, while the
+composition is freer. Human science and philosophy are at once less
+bound than is theology, and move more equably because they strive for
+more readily attainable ends. Like its companion piece, the School of
+Athens is both a citation of witnesses and a profession of faith, of
+faith in the capacity of the human mind.
+
+The fresco of Parnassus repeats approximately the grouping of the School
+of Athens, but changes the mood to one of lyrism, and shifts the scene
+to a hill top. About Apollo and the Muses wander the forms of the elder
+and recent poets. Often the faces are a bit insipid, but no one thinks
+of that, so easy are the postures, so gracious the whole effect, so
+instinct with the quiet good breeding of an academic pastoral. All the
+Umbrian reticence and discretion and humility of Raphael are in this
+beautifully calculated work. It betrays, too, certain ominous symptoms
+of display, in the way, for example, in which the figures at the window
+protrude beyond the wall. Primarily this is only a way of softening two
+ugly angles of the window opening, but it is also a concession to
+Michelangelo’s dangerous habit of painting away the architecture. All
+the forms have an amplitude and dignity akin to that of classical
+sculpture. Hellas is for Raphael no longer a far-away, inaccessible
+world, as it was, for example, to Botticelli. Raphael has effectively
+reconstructed it, in part by a gracious act of intuition, in part by
+study of the wall paintings and statues of old Rome.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 189. Raphael. Prudence, Temperance, Force—generally called
+    Jurisprudence. Fresco.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+The decoration of the Camera della Segnatura was completed triumphantly
+with the fresco symbolizing Jurisprudence, Figure 189, in which Raphael
+invents a new and beautiful compositional formula. Having to deal with a
+lunette awkwardly shortened by the window, he used three seated figures
+signifying the judging, restraining and rewarding aspects of justice.
+There is no strict centrality and no exact symmetry. The large curves of
+the figures play off from each other in a continuous rhythm melting into
+the bounding curve. One may conceive it in terms of the growth of
+plants, as so many sprays meeting, diverging, opposing each other, and
+all managing to conform to the line of an arch. It is a type of
+composition that Raphael will develop with still greater subtlety in the
+Sibyls of the Madonna della Pace.
+
+When Raphael finished the Camera della Segnatura he was about
+twenty-eight years old. His remaining nine years added certain
+remarkable portraits, the Castiglione, the Leo X, Figure 190, the
+Fornarina and the young Cardinal at Madrid, one sublime altar-piece, in
+the Sistine Madonna; a dramatic masterpiece in the Transfiguration, and
+a few frescoes. But in the main these are years of retrogression. His
+popularity had got beyond his power to utilize it. Michelangelo in 1512
+had unveiled the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Raphael, with all Rome,
+felt qualities of energy and grandeur which he himself lacked, and, with
+less than his usual intelligence, began a fruitless emulation. The last
+three _Stanze_ show in their very look that Raphael is no longer his
+unperturbed self. The figures no longer hold up their place on the wall,
+they crowd out toward the spectator appallingly. The compositions no
+longer show restful patterns which conform to the flatness of the wall.
+There are disturbing flashes of light and obscure gaps. The figures
+themselves are contorted and vehement; straining sinews and knotted
+muscles are advertised for their own sake. Emulating the sublimity of
+Michelangelo, Raphael only achieves sensationalism. Then he is no longer
+a painter but a director of painting. Nothing but the designs are now
+his own. The working sketches and cartoons are by his pupils, who work
+under the sway of a young Mantuan of facile and brutal talent, Giulio
+Romano. One passes through the last three Stanze with mixed feelings.
+The high pleasures of art are left behind; remains the spell of great
+power and intelligence now almost untouched by taste.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 190. Raphael. Pope Leo X.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 191. Raphael. Heliodorus driven from the Temple by a Celestial
+    Horseman. Fresco.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+The Stanza of Heliodorus finished in 1514 contains a superbly dramatic
+fresco of Heliodorus, Figure 191, thrust by a celestial horseman from
+the temple he would profane. The execution is mostly by Giulio Romano.
+Raphael himself appears in one of his most massive designs, the Mass of
+Bolsena. The theme is a sceptical priest persuaded of the truth of the
+sacramental miracle through the bleeding of the wafer. The miracle takes
+place in the presence of Pope Julius II. There is a weight of character
+in the picture which is unique in Raphael’s mural painting. The
+adjustment of masses is in an impeccable symmetry all the more difficult
+that the space is irregular and refractory. The fine figures that carry
+the theme down into the narrow rectangles alongside the window are in
+part repainted by a young rival of Raphael, Michelangelo’s protegé,
+Sebastiano del Piombo.
+
+The Chamber of the _Incendio_, finished in 1517, shows even more plainly
+the devastating influence of Michelangelo. The subject is a fire
+arrested miraculously by Pope Leo IV, Figure 192. It is a magnificent
+display of poses and anatomy, an artistic show window rather than a
+decoration. The eye wanders in bewilderment to find the picture and
+finds nothing but isolated, splendid forms posing superbly or simulating
+unfelt emotions. From the point of view of decoration, the space has
+been systematically violated. Again the remorseless hand of Giulio
+Romano is everywhere felt. This is the last anteroom of the Vatican
+which Raphael saw finished, though he left to his helpers many sketches
+for the two remaining _Stanze_.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 192. Raphael’s Design executed by Giulio Romano. Il Borgo. The
+    Fire at Rome.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+In 1516 and 1517 Raphael is superintending half a dozen great tasks at
+once. From the early months of 1515 he had been Bramante’s successor as
+architect of new St. Peter’s, the same year he became superintendent of
+all archæological excavations at Rome. To these heavy administrative
+charges he adds the decoration of the Farnesina, the continuation of the
+_Stanze_, designs for mosaics in Santa Maria del Popolo, plans for two
+private palaces, sixteen cartoons for the Vatican tapestries, and the
+preliminary studies for the Loggia of the Vatican. He designs half a
+dozen great altar-pieces and paints with his own hand the Portrait of
+Leo X, the marvelous St. Cecilia at Bologna, the Sibyls of the Pace, and
+the Sistine Madonna. He was rich and beloved, great nobles pressed him
+with social attentions, and a cardinal vainly sought to ally him with
+his family by marriage.
+
+We can consider these multiform activities of the later years only in
+general terms. The tapestry cartoons at South Kensington representing
+the miracles of St. Peter and St. Paul complete that magnificent line of
+narrative painting that begins with Giotto. Raphael works for simplicity
+and concentration and dignity in an eminently classic spirit. One feels
+the influence of Masaccio. Though rudely executed to guide the Flemish
+weavers and executed by the assistant, Penni, the mind of Raphael
+controls the form throughout. Such designs as the Miraculous Draught of
+Fishes, Paul Preaching at Athens, the Death of Ananias, the Blinding of
+the Sorcerer Elymas are among the marvels of our art. Yet many of these
+designs are over-studied, and few I feel fully bear the comparison with
+the best of Giotto and Masaccio. A little over-emphasis of style recalls
+the bitter word of Michelangelo concerning Raphael—that he succeeded not
+by grace of nature but by study.
+
+The frescoes of the Life of Psyche, in the Farnesina, are beautiful in
+arrangement and full of a robust paganism. But the wall is overcharged
+with the weight of figures which too often show Giulio Romano’s heavy
+and insolent hand. All the same, the whole effect is gracious and the
+garlanded borders of the coves and spandrels by Giovanni da Udine are
+delightful. To realize how much these frescoes lost from student
+execution one has only to consider the Galatea, Figure 192a, in the same
+Palace, which Raphael painted himself in 1514. It is on the verge of
+over-ripeness, but keeps its saving element of restraint. In answer to
+an inquiry from that great diplomat and gentleman, Count Baldassare
+Castiglione, Raphael wrote that though beautiful models were not rare,
+for the Galatea as for other figures, he had followed only an idea; and
+indeed the mind’s eye is what ever counts with Raphael.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 192_a._> Raphael. Galatea. Fresco.—_Farnesina, Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 193. Raphael. The Sistine Madonna.—_Dresden._
+]
+
+Raphael’s final work for the Vatican was the decoration of an open,
+vaulted Loggia. He invented fifty-two little Bible stories, leaving most
+of the painting to his assistant, Penni, and he drew about the arches,
+pilasters and window frames the most delicious arabesques. From study of
+similar decoration in the Baths of Titus he worked out a style, crisp,
+formal and sophisticated, and as various as Gothic ornament itself.
+Geometrical, animal, and plant forms meet and blend audaciously. There
+is interplay of spiral and angular motives, the whole effect is highly
+playful and ingenious. The style has had vogue to our own day and still
+speaks to us charmingly of the unserious side of Raphael.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 194. Raphael. The Transfiguration.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+Perhaps in the harassed, competitive years we have been describing,
+Raphael turned occasionally upon his own ingenuity, and refreshed
+himself by renewing these simple and gracious modes in which he had been
+bred. Such a theory would account for the Sistine Madonna, Figure 193,
+and in part for his last picture, the Transfiguration. The most
+memorable of Raphael’s Madonnas is based on the lucid symmetry of
+Perugino. Although, for greater concentration, the background is merely
+a sky, the hovering figures are easily spaced in the usual triangle. The
+effect is ineffably grand and gentle. A quiet silvery cloudland is
+created and filled by the devotion of the attendant saints and the
+inspired glance of the Virgin and her Son. With all the resources of the
+Renaissance, Raphael has expressed an emotion as intense and reverent as
+that of Fra Angelico. It is an amazing act of the sympathetic
+intelligence, for there is no reason to suppose that the painter was
+ever a deeply religious spirit.
+
+Almost as traditional was the unfinished picture before which in
+springtime of 1520 Raphael’s body lay in state. The Transfiguration,
+Figure 194, repeats the method of the Disputa. The celestial group of
+Christ and Moses and Elijah is disposed as Perugino would have
+counselled, in a swaying triangular group set before the gulf of the
+firmament. Raphael painted this part with his own hand. The lower part,
+which was left to Giulio Romano to finish, rests on the maxims and
+practice of Leonardo. An energetic variety compelled into a close
+balance is the ideal, a formal order which contains and softens
+otherwise extravagant expressions and gestures. There is perhaps
+intended not merely an illustration of the Gospel text, but also the
+contrast between that life of contemplation towards which the soul
+aspires, and that world of suffering of mind and body which presses
+closely upon our rare moments of spiritual escape.
+
+Even that world of facts had been very kind to Raphael. It was fitting
+then that in his last days he should forget the haunting spectre of
+Michelangelo’s sublimity, and should use his last forces in an imitation
+which was a sort of gratitude to those two great masters who had set him
+on the right way. One would like to believe that the Sistine Madonna and
+the Transfiguration are the sign that Raphael when overtaken by an
+untimely death was purging himself of an unfruitful rivalry, and
+becoming once more master of his own soul. Yet since even Michelangelo
+shipwrecked on the Michelangelesque, it is an open question whether
+Raphael could ever have permanently recovered his natural equipoise.
+However that be, Raphael in the glorious years from 1500 to 1512 resumes
+and perfects every gentle, orderly, and reasonable strain in Italian
+painting. Whether in portraiture or narrative, in mythology or
+symbolism, in pictures of the Madonna or in pure decoration, he gave to
+Italian painting its final stamp. He achieved a grandeur of space
+composition akin to the movement of a symphony, a hidden structure more
+appealing than any separate hue or form. His best work rests on a great
+humility, and his later pride went far towards undoing him as an artist.
+Such pride was the breath of life and the source of strength to his
+rival Michelangelo, the fulfiller and perfector of everything that had
+been insurgent, unbounded and not quite reasonable in the art of
+Florence.
+
+By a peculiar irony all that was valuable in such truculent and
+self-sufficing predecessors as Donatello and Bertoldo, Andrea del
+Castagno, Antonio Pollaiuolo and Luca Signorelli was finally
+concentrated in the small and ill-favored body of a neurasthenic. There
+is the tragedy of Michelangelo[69] in its simplest terms. A Titan in
+capacity to feel and work, he lived in an atmosphere of suspicion and
+fear. Thrice he ran away from physical danger, once was virtually a
+military deserter. To unworthy dependent relatives he gave lavishly,
+scolding and fretting as he gave. He deliberately affronted two of the
+most courteous and accomplished colleagues, Leonardo da Vinci and
+Perugino. He suspected the worst of his gracious and generous rival,
+Raphael. From a Roman studio as unkempt and filthy as its owner, he
+snarled at the world and himself like a dog from a kennel.
+
+Yet, note the paradox, this snarling is embodied in fine poetry, and
+this haggard and more than untidy artist is the friend of such elect
+spirits as Tommaso Cavalieri and Vittoria Colonna. Transient solaces.
+Near the end of his long life he writes:—
+
+             “Alas! Alas! again and once again
+             I see my past and there I find not one—
+             In all, not one whole day that has been mine.”
+
+These were the words of a man who was admired like a god and had
+achieved a lifework of unexampled copiousness and athleticism.
+
+The great enigma, how Michelangelo converted what are usually weaknesses
+into sources of artistic strength, may best be faced in his life and
+works. He was born at Caprese in 1475, soon taken back to Florence and
+put to nurse with a stonecutter’s wife, with whose milk he later used to
+say he sucked in the mallets and chisels he wielded so powerfully. At
+thirteen he was articled to Ghirlandaio as a paid assistant and
+doubtless did some minor work on those prettiest of frescoes in the
+choir of Santa Maria Novella. Extricating himself from an uncongenial
+task, he became one of the protegés of Lorenzo de’ Medici, studying the
+antique marbles of the Medici Gardens under the kindly guidance of old
+Bertoldo. There he mingled freely for three years in the most learned
+and gentle society of the time. He mastered anatomy and modelling,
+searched the compositional secrets of Masaccio. Soon Savonarola’s
+revolution dismantled that artistic paradise which had been the Medici
+Gardens, and Michelangelo became what he frequently was afterwards, a
+fugitive and a solitary man, without either fixed friendships or abiding
+place.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 195. Michelangelo. Holy Family of the Doni.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+How he made himself great in sculpture is not our theme. He was thirty
+and already the master of the David and the Pietà before he began to be
+a painter. His first commission, in 1505, was for a Holy Family, Figure
+195, in medallion form for Agnolo Doni, who at the same time was having
+his portrait painted by Raphael. The picture as we see it in the Uffizi
+shows a master who thinks in fresco. The brown flesh, the dull yellows
+and blues of the draperies could have come from the Brancacci chapel.
+Remarkable is the complete waiver of charm and sweetness. The superb
+figures are skilfully contorted into interesting poses, the circle is
+densely filled and the few interstices left by the main figures are
+filled with athletic nudes. The aim, which is successfully attained, is
+an austere grandeur. There is to be no ordinary human appeal in our
+youthful Lord and his parents.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 196. Michelangelo. Detail from Cartoon of the Bathers, by the
+    contemporary engraver, Marcantonio.
+]
+
+At this moment Leonardo was already well advanced on the cartoon for the
+Battle of the Standard, treating it in terms of literal narrative. In
+1505 Michelangelo received a signal honor in the commission for the
+companion fresco, the Battle of Pisa. Both were for the Hall of the
+Great Council. We can imagine Michelangelo casting about for a reason to
+abandon a narrative treatment and to find one that could be expressed by
+the nude. He found it in an incident in Leonardo Aretino’s Chronicle. It
+seemed that the trumpet found the Florentine men-at-arms bathing in the
+Arno. Here was the theme of what was properly called The Bathers. Great
+muscular forms are drawing themselves up the bank, and are hurrying into
+clothes and armor. We have not a fight, but its alarm and imminence, a
+fine imaginative substitute for the obvious event. The picture was never
+executed, and the cartoon, which was the marvel of its day, was soon
+destroyed, but Michelangelo’s sketches tells us something of the
+composition, and the contemporary engraver, Marcantonio, Figure 196, has
+left us a masterly print of the central group. It is plain that
+Michelangelo made a display of minute anatomy that put his
+contemporaries to shame, plain also that he subordinated this feature to
+monumental effect. The failure to execute the fresco and the destruction
+of the cartoon must count among the capital losses in the history of
+art.
+
+Burdened already with the impossible task of the tomb of Julius II,
+Michelangelo was called to Rome to fresco the vault of the Sistine
+Chapel. Contemporary gossip believed that he was proposed by the jealous
+and shifty Bramante, architect of St. Peter’s, in the hope of
+discrediting him. If so, Bramante reckoned ill. At first Michelangelo
+planned a very modest scheme of colossal figures of Apostles in the
+twelve spandrels. Soon, dismissing his incompetent helpers, he attacked
+single-handed the present great scheme. He worked at it four bitter
+years, and came out of it temporarily crippled and with eyes distorted
+from the constant strain of looking upwards. The ceiling was unveiled on
+All Saint’s Day of 1512 and has been a portent ever since.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 197. Michelangelo. The two Western Compartments of the Ceiling of
+    the Sistine Chapel: God parting Light from Darkness; God creating
+    the Sea and Plants. Example of the Decorative Scheme.
+]
+
+Enter the Sistine Chapel, turn your back to the overwhelming apparition
+of the Last Judgment, and your eye will naturally seek the lightest part
+of the rich decoration. In a long strip, down the centre of the ceiling,
+made up of nine oblongs alternately large and small, colossal figures
+stand out against the sky. We see the drama of the Creation and Fall of
+man. Nude titans play the minor parts in so many simultaneous scenes.
+The gigantic, draped form of the Eternal dominates the first five. We
+see him an aged athlete, an expression of utmost physical force, rending
+chaos asunder into light and darkness; by his touch illumining the sun
+and moon; Figure 197, drawing out the plants from the earth. I know no
+more sublime conception in painting than the figure of God assigning the
+oceans their place, Figure 198. Here is a form that would weigh tons
+hovering with the lightness of an eagle in space, with extended
+beneficent arms as solid as reality but coaxed out of the wet plaster
+with touch and hues as delicate as those of a Whistler symphony. A
+miracle of conception and of workmanship.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 198. Michelangelo. God hovering over the Waters. Shows the
+    decorative use of the so-called “Slaves.”—_Vatican._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 199. Michelangelo. Creation of Adam.
+]
+
+The eye will dwell longest on the great fresco of the Creation of Adam,
+Figure 199. It is all noble energy in the figure of God giving life by
+His touch, all noble languor in the relaxed form of Adam only dimly
+conscious of himself and wistful. There could be no truer or more
+striking illustration of the pessimistic view that life was imposed upon
+the earth and brought sadness with it. The titan form of Adam has a
+singular and enigmatic relaxation. He undergoes a gift he has never
+besought and faces it with something between confusion, mistrust and
+resignation. Perhaps the splendid body would have been more at ease, had
+the soul not been added. So in a spirit of Christian pessimism
+Michelangelo represents Deity sharing its divine powers with the first
+man.
+
+At the centre of the ceiling is the creation of Eve, again an
+extraordinary study in lassitude, but with a significant difference in
+the figure of Eve. The woman, the chosen receptacle and transmitter of
+life, accepts the gift eagerly. She presses up to God in thankful
+adoration. No doubts or ambiguities here. And what a figure—fit to be
+the mother of a race, exulting already in a fecundity that is to be most
+grievous. Compare her action with the languid and almost disdainful
+gesture of Adam in the last fresco, and learn that if the world is still
+peopled it is due to the unreflective and unshaken fealty to life of all
+Eve’s true daughters.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 200. Michelangelo. The Temptation and Expulsion from Eden.
+]
+
+Perhaps the most decorative subject, if one may use the word of themes
+so morally impressive, is that which represents the sin of the forbidden
+fruit and the expulsion from Eden, Figure 200. The elements of pathos
+which are strong in the story of Genesis are absent. Michelangelo has
+not deigned to show us a habitable or desirable Eden. We see instead the
+swiftly changing episodes of a great doom, which culminates in this
+scene. Marvelous are the paired groups, superb the contrast between
+careless appetite under the tree of knowledge and utter shame in the
+exiled pair. One feels that Eve, who shrinks most, will soonest recover.
+Her mission is still valid in the world of sin and shame. The
+composition is the first one made up entirely of nudes.
+
+We may pass quickly over the three compartments devoted to the story of
+Noah. The scale of the figures, especially in the Deluge, is too small
+to count at the distance from the eye. These three frescoes were the
+beginning of the work, the proper scale being arrived at through trial
+and error. Inherently the two small oblongs are among the most beautiful
+in the ceiling, having a stylistic grace that is less marked in the
+earlier more august themes. With the charm of Greek intaglios these
+stories of Noah combine monumentality.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 201. Michelangelo. The Prophet Jeremiah.
+]
+
+I have tried to put myself in the position of a visitor to the Sistine
+Chapel following the instincts of his eye. At this point, having glanced
+over the ceiling, his mind might well come in and ask the meaning of a
+whole of which he is becoming dimly aware. The nine scenes above are
+simply the historic axioms upon which the Christian scheme of redemption
+is based. The abstract sparseness of the nine episodes from Genesis is
+justified by the fact that they are less human events than terms in a
+great argument, which runs as follows: We were created innocent, sinned
+in our first parents, were spared in the world-flood and promised
+eventual redemption.
+
+This prolonged drama of redemption is witnessed by a solemn chorus of
+draped male and female figures enthroned impressively in the spandrels.
+Here, representing respectively the pagan and Hebrew world, are seven
+sibyls and five prophets who had the dim but certain vision of a coming
+Redeemer. These figures as Hawthorne has well said are “necessarily so
+gigantic because the weight of thought within them is so massive.” They
+brood quietly or sway with the burden of yearning. They are
+magnificently draped and contrast most decoratively with the many nudes
+of the ceiling. They vary in age and disposition. Contrast the actively
+inspired and youthful Daniel, or the fiery Ezechiel with the ponderous
+gravity of Jeremiah, Figure 201. What shades of delicate
+characterization are in the athletic loveliness of the Delphic Sibyl,
+Figure 202, the powerfully concentrated senility of The Cumean Sibyl,
+she who predicted to Virgil the new era of salvation, and the
+aristocratic aloofness of the Libyan seeress, Figure 203, most daintily
+preparing her day’s work in divination.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 202. Michelangelo. The Delphic Sibyl.
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 203. Michelangelo. The Libyan Sibyl.
+]
+
+Magnificent is the indignant sprawling form of the unwilling prophet
+Jonah, remanded by the sea to an ungrateful mission. He is the active
+counterpart of the passive Adam on the ceiling. He obeys under protest.
+The form itself, foreshortened against the curve of the spandrel, is a
+masterpiece of draughtsmanship. Decoratively it is the link between the
+nudes of the ceiling and the draped prophets and sibyls.
+
+Below the prophetic figures, in the older frescoes of the side walls,
+are set the foreshadowing of the work of salvation in the life of Moses
+and its accomplishment in the life of Christ, and the drama closes with
+Michelangelo’s Last Judgment on the altar wall. There Christ separates
+eternally the saved from the damned, echoing the definitive gesture with
+which God in the adjoining ceiling separates light from darkness. So the
+scheme closes with the inexorable logic with which it began.
+
+The decorative task of Michelangelo was to mediate between the prophets
+and sibyls and the ceiling frescoes above, and likewise to link the
+great figures with the side walls below. Above, he set a multitude of
+nude forms. On the massive sides of the twelve thrones are four
+caryatids in two pairs. At the top of these piers are seated the lithe
+forms of nude youths, Figure 198, forty in all, supporting medallions
+and bent into every conceivable attitude that might set off the
+flexibility and power of these superb young bodies. But however
+extravagant any single pose may be, it is immediately balanced by an
+opposing thrust from some other body, so that the whole composition is
+locked together into an active and thrilling equilibrium. Even the
+triangles over the coves are filled with huddled nudes most adroitly
+disposed in the narrow and refractory spaces.
+
+Below the prophets and sibyls, the linking motives are made up of draped
+figures. Weakest are the caryatid geniuses below each throne. The
+triangular splays at the corners contain those four bloody and
+sensational acts which assured the perpetuity of God’s Chosen People—the
+Raising of the Brazen Serpent, the Slaying of Goliath and of
+Holophernes, the Hanging of Haaman.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 204. Michelangelo. Decoration of Cove over Window.
+]
+
+In the triangles roofing the coves and in the lunettes about the arched
+window heads are family groups of the ancestors and precursors of
+Christ. Figure 204. The mood of anticipation which has been calm and
+official in the prophets becomes agitated, passionate, personal in these
+half hidden groups. So many pilgrims of eternity yearn for the
+fulfillment that shall give meaning to their wanderings—a promised goal
+and rest. Very subtle and beautiful is the contrast between the groups
+sundered by the window heads, individually meditative, and those which
+blend their longing in the close relations forced by the triangular
+coves. What has begun as noble abstraction finishes in terms of almost
+inexpressible tenderness. In color the whole gigantic composition is
+unified by a sonorous chord of yellow and violet which is moderately
+asserted in the ceiling and pushed to the utmost in the spandrels. Of
+the color John La Farge has written: “The unity is so great, the balance
+of effects so harmonious, that it is only by study that we see expressed
+in the methods of the painting the ancient rules, handed down by
+practice, which unite with the latest teaching of modern scientific
+coloring.” What a mind it took to hold the tumultuous and pathetic
+details of this great work within an enveloping order and calm!
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 205. Michelangelo. The Last Judgment.
+]
+
+In framing his great work out of nudes relieved by draped figures,
+Michelangelo renewed the Grecian practice. Precisely the difference
+between the Sistine ceiling and the metopes of the Parthenon, or the
+frieze of Pergamon, raises the question—What does the nude of
+Michelangelo express? I do not find in it, at least in the Sistine
+ceiling, much of that terribleness, _terribiltà_, which has been
+remarked by critics from Vasari to Henri Beyle. It seems to me rather an
+art of lassitude and relaxation, the reluctantly awaking Adam being the
+clue to the mood. Except for the gestures of God and Eve, the gestures
+and poses are unspecific. The lithe bodies of the slaves are twisted
+only that they may attain consciousness of powers which have no use. The
+relaxation which marks nearly all the nudes, whether in the stories or
+in the incidental ornament, is not that of fatigue after action, nor yet
+that of preparation for an ordeal. In barren lassitude we have expressed
+powers which do not imply action or use, but breathe a great melancholy.
+We are far from the splendors of passion and achievement, we see
+humanity confused at a fate that calls itself God, a passive factor in
+an arbitrary process that makes the glory of the flesh a vain thing. As
+a humanist, Michelangelo asserts that failing glory, as a Christian he
+accepts the nothingness of mankind and the rightness of God’s
+inscrutable and apparently cruel designs. Perhaps the spell of
+Michelangelo, his æsthetic, to put it pedantically, is simply the noble
+resignation with which the humanist accepts the Christian pessimism as
+regards this world. And here I may note that Rodin has significantly
+shown that even the forms of Michelangelo are not uprising and resilient
+like the antique, but compressed and yielding like those of the
+Christian Gothic sculptors.
+
+Twenty-one years after the Sistine ceiling was unveiled, Michelangelo
+began reluctantly the great fresco of the Last Judgment, Figure 205. He
+worked on it for seven years, and it was unveiled on Christmas Day of
+1541. How the choristers had the heart to chant the angelic message of
+peace and good will before it, I cannot imagine. Michelangelo was
+sixty-six years old, a disillusioned and embittered man, an alien in the
+corrupt and pleasure loving Rome of Paul III. He has put into the Christ
+all his contempt for mankind. The Christ who earlier wrathfully hurled
+the darts in the Umbrian plague banners has become a far darting Apollo,
+Figure 206, rejoicing in his dire task. Behind him the murky air is full
+of hurtling contorted angels, in aspect quite indistinguishable from
+fiends, who bear the implements of the Passion. Below, the just and
+unjust rise or fall in knots and festoons of writhing nude bodies all
+equally sinister. The conception is violently corporeal, and never
+elsewhere in painting has the human body been used with such ingenuity
+and power. But it is a power that defeats itself. I believe the
+spectator is not so much appalled as confused before the Last Judgment.
+Its vehemence seems so unrelieved and insensate. If this be indeed the
+goal of mankind, no wonder moody Adam in the ceiling above faces his
+Creator with doubt and a hint of distrust.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 206. Michelangelo. Christ with the Virgin and the Apostles. From
+    the Last Judgment.
+]
+
+Its sheer display of force won all contemporaries, and the French critic
+and superman, Stendhal, has highly praised the work for its burning
+energy. While not sharing his enthusiasm, I gladly refer the reader to
+his admirable pages. In my own opinion the creative ardor of
+Michelangelo had waned by this time. He offers, instead, his spleen,
+which is more valuable than most men’s genius, and his amazing technical
+skill. Michelangelo has become Michelangelesque. That is deplorably true
+in the frescoes for the Pauline Chapel which were finished in 1547, his
+seventy-second year. Nothing is left but sensationalism, and the Pope
+does well not to exhibit these works. As regards humanity,
+Michelangelo’s vein is completely exhausted. He still is capable of
+exquisite calculation, as in the design for the dome of St. Peter’s,
+still retains a dæmonic capacity for work and emotion, but the sculptor
+in him is nearly dead and the painter completely so. The poet of the
+rugged sonnets has superseded them both. When he died at 89, in 1564,
+the little ill-favored body was honored like that of a king. His sheer
+power had swept the whole rising generation of artists under his sway.
+To their own hurt and to the bankruptcy of the Golden Age.
+
+Such forms as Michelangelo’s are tolerable only when possessed by that
+melancholy poetry of his which gives them meaning. If the serene
+intelligence of a Raphael had not found emotions to fill such forms, if
+Michelangelo himself in his later years falls back on a monotonous
+formula of terribleness, what hope was there for such uninspired
+imitators as the Venustis, Volterras, and Vasaris? One and all, they
+entertained monstrous delusions of effortless attainment—cleverly
+contorted their nudes, shrewdly calculated their terrors. And the Roman
+art of the Golden Age, forgetting both the wise humility of Umbria and
+the reasonable pride of Florence, suddenly collapsed in the ugliest and
+most irrational ostentation. Michelangelo had passed—to fulfill and to
+destroy.
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER VI
+
+
+           A CONTEMPORARY LIST OF GREAT ARTISTS, BEFORE 1510
+
+  In an offhand mention in _The Courtier_ Baldasarre Castiglione tells
+  us who seemed to be great artists to a cultured and well-informed
+  gentleman about the year 1508. Titian had not yet emerged and of the
+  older men only Leonardo da Vinci and Mantegna are remembered. As
+  seniors, they are the first mentioned.
+
+
+  “Again various things give equal pleasure to the eyes, so that we can
+  with difficulty decide what are more pleasing to them. You know that
+  in painting Leonardo da Vinci, Mantegna, Raphael, Michelangelo,
+  Giorgio da Castelfranco are very excellent, yet they are all unlike in
+  their work; so that no one of them seems to lack anything in his own
+  manner, since each is known as the most perfect in his style.”
+
+
+  _The Book of the Courtier by Count Baldesar Castiglione_, translated
+  by Leonard Ekstein Opdycke, New York, 1903, p. 50.
+
+
+                MICHELANGELO ON RENAISSANCE COUNTERPOISE
+
+  It is said then that Michelangelo once gave his advice to Marcoda
+  Siena, his pupil, that “one should make the figure pyramidal, spiral,
+  (_serpentinata_) and multiplied by one, two, and three.” Lomazzo
+  _Trattato_, Milan, 1484, p. 23. The pose, that is, should be contained
+  geometrically, should display opposing thrusts, and should be
+  mathematically proportioned within the inclosing geometrical form.
+
+
+                      VASARI ON THE “MODERN STYLE”
+
+  Vasari’s account of the Grand Style or “Third Manner,” in the Preface
+  to Part III (De Vere’s translation, Vol. IV, pp. 79–85) is still
+  authoritative. He praises the artists before Leonardo, but finds in
+  them a certain hardness, lack of finish and uncertainty of
+  proportions. The change to the perfect manner was caused by the
+  discovery of ancient marbles.
+
+  “After them [the predecessors of Leonardo], their successors were able
+  to attain to it through seeing excavated out of the earth certain
+  antiquities cited by Pliny as amongst the most famous, such as the
+  Laocoon, the Hercules, the Great Torso of the Belvedere, and likewise
+  the Venus, the Cleopatra, the Apollo, and an endless number of others,
+  which, both with their sweetness and their severity, with their fleshy
+  roundness copied from the greatest beauties of nature, and with
+  certain attitudes which involve no distortion of the whole figure but
+  only a movement of certain parts, which are revealed with a most
+  perfect grace, brought about the disappearance of a certain dryness,
+  hardness, and sharpness of manner....
+
+  [He mentions the contemporary admiration of such precursors as Francia
+  and Perugino.]
+
+  “But their error was afterwards clearly proved by the works of
+  Leonardo da Vinci, who, giving a beginning to that third manner which
+  we propose to call the modern—besides the force and boldness of his
+  drawing, and the extreme subtlety wherewith he counterfeited all the
+  minutenesses of nature exactly as they are—with good rule, better
+  order, right proportion, perfect drawing, and divine grace, abounding
+  in resources and having a most profound knowledge of art, may be truly
+  said to have endowed his figures with motion and breath.
+
+  “There followed after him, although at some distance, Giorgione da
+  Castelfranco, who obtained a beautiful gradation of colour in his
+  pictures ...; and not inferior to him in giving force, relief,
+  sweetness, and grace to his pictures, with his colouring, was Fra
+  Bartolommeo di San Marco. But more than all did the most gracious
+  Rafaello da Urbino, who, studying the labours of the old masters and
+  those of the Moderns, took the best from them, and, having gathered it
+  together, enriched the art of painting with that complete perfection
+  which was shown in ancient times by the figures of Apelles and Zeuxis,
+  nay, even more, if we may make bold to say it, as might be proved if
+  we could compare their works with his. Wherefore nature was left
+  vanquished by his colours....
+
+  “In the same manner, but sweeter in colouring and not so bold, there
+  followed Andrea del Sarto, who may be called a rare painter, for his
+  works are free from errors.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+  “But he who bears the palm from both the living and the dead,
+  transcending and eclipsing all others, is the divine Michelangelo
+  Buonarotti, who holds the sovereignty not merely of one of these arts,
+  but of all three together. This master surpasses and excels not only
+  all those moderns who have almost vanquished nature, but even those
+  most famous ancients who without a doubt did so gloriously surpass
+  her; and in his own self he triumphs over moderns, ancients, and
+  nature, who could scarcely conceive anything so strange and so
+  difficult that he would not be able, by the force of his most divine
+  intellect and by means of his industry, draughtsmanship, art, judgment
+  and grace, to excel it by a great measure; and that not only in
+  painting and in the use of colours under which title are comprised all
+  forms, and all bodies upright or not upright, palpable or impalpable,
+  visible or invisible, but also in the highest perfection of bodies in
+  the round, with the point of his chisel.”
+
+
+                   UNITY OF DESIGN IN THE RENAISSANCE
+
+  The humanist Benedetto Varchi, renewing the debate which Leonardo da
+  Vinci had started concerning the relative rank of sculpture and
+  painting, sent the text of his lecture to Michelangelo and asked for
+  his opinion. The sculptor writes in 1549:
+
+
+  “In my opinion painting should be considered excellent in proportion
+  as it approaches the effect of relief, while relief should be
+  considered bad as it approaches the effect of painting. I used to
+  consider that sculpture was the lantern of painting and that between
+  the two things there was the same difference as that between the sun
+  and the moon. But now that I have read your book, in which, speaking
+  as a philosopher, you say that things which have the same end are
+  themselves the same, I have changed my opinion; and I now consider
+  that painting and sculpture are one and the same thing, unless greater
+  nobility be imparted by the necessity for a keener judgment, greater
+  difficulties of execution, stricter limitations and harder work. And
+  if this be the case, no painter ought to think less of sculpture than
+  of painting and no sculptor less of painting than of sculpture. By
+  sculpture I mean the sort that is executed by cutting away from the
+  block: the sort that is executed by building up resembles painting.
+  That is enough, for as one and the other, that is to say, both
+  painting and sculpture proceed from the same faculty, it would be an
+  easy matter to establish harmony between them and to let such disputes
+  alone, for they occupy more time than the execution of the figures
+  themselves. As to that man [Leonardo da Vinci] who wrote saying that
+  painting was more noble than sculpture, as though he knew as much
+  about it as he did of the other subjects on which he has written, why
+  my serving-maid would have written better!”
+
+
+  From Robert W. Carden, _Michelangelo, a Record of his Life_, Boston
+  and New York, 1913, a book which from Michelangelo’s letters gives a
+  very intimate view of the sculptor’s character.
+
+
+                 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS ON THE GRAND STYLE
+
+  No critic of art has better expressed the ideal of the Grand Style
+  than Sir Joshua Reynolds. I quote from the third of his _Discourses_,
+  in the admirable edition of Roger E. Fry, New York, 1906. pp. 51 ff.
+
+  “Every language has adopted terms expressive of this excellence. The
+  _gusto grande_ of the Italians, the _beau idéal_ of the French and the
+  _great style_, _genius_ and _taste_ among the English, are but
+  different appellations of the same thing. It is this intellectual
+  dignity, they say, that ennobles the Painter’s Art; that lays the line
+  between him and the mere mechanic: and produces those great effects in
+  an instant, which eloquence and poetry, by slow and repeated efforts,
+  are scarcely able to retain....” [The grand style is seen to rest upon
+  a sort of generalizing tendency.] “The whole beauty and grandeur of
+  the Art consists, in my opinion, in being able to get above all
+  singular forms, local customs, particularities and details of every
+  kind.” [The artist] “being enabled to distinguish the accidental
+  deficiencies, excrescences, and deformities of things, from their
+  general figures, he makes out an abstract idea of their forms more
+  perfect than any one original; and, what may seem a paradox, he learns
+  to design naturally by drawing his figures unlike to any one object.”
+  [Sir Joshua advocates the study of the antique, not to imitate any
+  single work, but to master the principle that underlies them all.]
+  “Beauty and simplicity have so great a share in the composition of the
+  great style, that he who has acquired them has little else to learn.
+  It must not, indeed, be forgotten that there is a nobleness of
+  conception, which goes beyond any thing in the mere exhibition of
+  perfect form; there is an art of animating and dignifying the figures
+  with intellectual grandeur, of impressing the appearance of
+  philosophic wisdom, or heroic virtue. This can only be acquired by him
+  that enlarges the sphere of his understanding by a variety of
+  knowledge, and warms his imagination with the best productions of
+  ancient and modern poetry.”
+
+
+                    KENYON COX ON THE CLASSIC SPIRIT
+
+  The ideals of the High Renaissance are eloquently, if incidentally,
+  defined by the late Kenyon Cox in _The Classic Point of View_, New
+  York, 1911. pp. 3–5.
+
+  “The Classic spirit is the disinterested search for perfection; it is
+  the love of clearness and reasonableness and self-control; it is,
+  above all, the love of permanence and of continuity. It asks of a work
+  of art, not that it shall be novel or effective, but that it shall be
+  fine and noble. It seeks not merely to express individuality or
+  emotion, but to express disciplined emotion and individuality
+  restrained by law. It strives for the essential rather than the
+  accidental, the eternal rather than the momentary—loves impersonality
+  more than personality, and feels more power in the orderly succession
+  of the hours and the seasons than in the violence of earthquake or of
+  storm. And it loves to steep itself in tradition. It would have each
+  new work connect itself in the mind of him who sees it with all the
+  noble and lively works of the past, bringing them to his memory and
+  making their beauty and charm a part of the beauty and charm of the
+  work before him. It does not deny originality and individuality—they
+  are as welcome as inevitable. It does not consider tradition as
+  immutable or set rigid bounds to invention. But it desires that each
+  new presentation of truth and beauty shall show us the old truth and
+  the old beauty, seen only from a different angle and colored by a
+  different medium. It wishes to add link by link to the chain of
+  tradition, but it does not wish to break the chain.”
+
+
+           THE END OF THE RENAISSANCE AND THE COMING OF FEAR
+
+  An artistic collapse whether in an artist or a nation is usually due
+  to a prior collapse in morale. Florence suffered such loss of face
+  when the Imperialists stormed the city and crushed the Republic. We
+  may study the disaster in Michelangelo’s personal case and in its
+  effect on the citizenry at large. Michelangelo was military engineer.
+  Writing from Venice, Sept. 25, 1529, he describes his desertion with
+  singular objectivity:
+
+  “I had intended to remain in Florence to the end of the war, having no
+  fears for my own safety. But on Tuesday morning, the 21st of
+  September, a certain person came out by the Porta a San Nicolò while I
+  was engaged in inspecting the bastions, and whispered in my ear that I
+  must remain there no longer if I valued my life. He accompanied me to
+  my house, dined there, brought me horses, and never left my side until
+  he had carried me out of Florence, declaring that it was for my good
+  that he so acted. Whether it were God or the devil I cannot say.”
+
+  From Robert W. Carden, _Michelangelo, a Record of his Life_, Boston
+  and New York, 1913, p. 168.
+
+  Florence suffered not from hallucinations, as this seems to have been,
+  but from the humiliation and confusion incident upon defeat and
+  foreign occupation. I translate from Benedetto Varchi’s _Storia_, the
+  extract in Ancona and Bacci’s _Manuele della Letteratura Italiana_,
+  Vol. II, p. 506.
+
+
+  “The city of Florence when her liberty was lost was full of such
+  sorrow, of such terror, of such confusion, that it can hardly be
+  described or even imagined.... The nobles were indignant among
+  themselves and inwardly resented being scorned and vilified by the
+  lowest classes; the plebeians in extreme need, would not refrain at
+  least from relieving their minds about the nobility; the rich, how
+  they could manage not to lose their property; the poor, day and night,
+  what they should do not to die utterly and of famine; the citizens
+  were dismayed and desperate, because they had spent and lost a lot:
+  the peasants, much more, because there remained for them nothing at
+  all; the priests were ashamed of having deceived the laity; the laity
+  grieved at having believed the priests; men had become extraordinarily
+  suspicious and covetous; women immeasurably incredulous and
+  distrustful: finally, every one with lowered face and staring eyes,
+  seemed beside himself, and all without exception pallid and bewildered
+  feared at all times every sort of ill.”
+
+
+  From such a shell-shocked community as this, no serene or noble art
+  was to be expected. It was much that Florence in bondage still could
+  nurture the exquisitely morbid art of a Pontormo and the aristocratic
+  detachment and _finesse_ of a Bronzino.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 207. Giovanni Bellini. St. Francis receiving the Stigmata.—_H. C.
+    Frick Coll., New York._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+                    VENETIAN PAINTING BEFORE TITIAN
+
+  On the splendor of Venice—Italo-Byzantine painters of the 14th
+      Century—Paduan, Veronese, and Umbrian Painters at Venice—Jacopo
+      Bellini—Squarcione’s school at Padua, Carlo Crivelli—Andrea
+      Mantegna, mentor for Northern Italy—Antonello da Messina’s
+      Realism—The flowering of the old Narrative School in Gentile
+      Bellino—Giovanni Bellini—The backward Vivarini—Carpaccio and the
+      end of the old Narrative Style—Literary background of Giorgione’s
+      Art—Giorgione of Castelfranco.
+
+
+When, about the middle of the fifth century, a pitiful throng of
+refugees sought safety from Attila and his Huns in the fens at the head
+of the Adriatic, they took with them what was left of the constructive
+genius of the Roman Empire. They raised amid the lagoons a healthful and
+convenient city, which in the course of centuries became the most
+beautiful in Europe. They developed a strong and wise oligarchy, under
+forms sufficiently democratic to satisfy the people. They attained an
+extraordinary capacity for diplomacy and overseas trade—a brilliant
+commercialized civilization. Secure in their isolation and wealth, the
+Venetians mediated the long strife between the popes and the Teutonic
+emperors, making favorable terms with both. Venice enjoyed a wholly
+exceptional political stability. No other commune of Europe could have
+fittingly assumed the title, Serenissima. Her galleys and sailing craft
+plied to Candia, Rhodes, Smyrna, Alexandretta, Constantinople. Down the
+Adriatic to Malta, her trading stations shone white under the yellow
+cliffs. Her incoming ships brought back the splendid rugs and silks and
+embroideries from the Levant, the beautiful potteries of Asia Minor,
+Persia and distant China, the veined marbles and porphyries of Egypt and
+of Istria to build into her churches and palaces. She was astute and
+powerful enough to divert a crusade into a plundering expedition against
+her rival, Constantinople. And thus she got the four antique bronze
+horses still chafing above the portico of St. Mark’s and many a relic of
+the later Byzantine splendor. Her doors ever opened to the Orient. Her
+quays swarmed with turbaned traders. The Greeks had their churches and
+confraternities at Venice, and so had the Slavonians. For articles of
+luxury the northern caravans came to Venice over the Brenner to load
+from the German warehouses on the Grand Canal.
+
+So stable, rich and proud a city was singularly slow in producing its
+own art. Venice was never primarily a manufacturing community, and from
+the first she expected to import most articles of luxury and display.
+Thus when the manydomed Basilica rose over the body of her patron, St.
+Mark, Venice called masters from Constantinople to enrich the surfaces
+with mosaics, and when, towards the end of the fourteenth century, she
+wished to picture the new Palace of the Doges, she called not her own
+artists to the task, but those of Padua, Verona and distant Fabriano.
+Her originality and greatness in painting do not clearly assert
+themselves until about 1475 in the work of the brothers Bellini, and by
+1577, the year of Titian’s death, the period of her artistic supremacy
+has passed. The whole development is comprised within a century; its
+acceleration is even more remarkable than the tardiness of its
+appearance. In three generations Venetian painting made the progress
+that had required six in Tuscany, and the whole preparatory period,
+which in Florence stretched over a century and three-quarters, is
+included in the single life of such a master as Giovanni Bellini.
+
+This means that Venetian painting followed simpler and more unperturbed
+ideals than that of Florence. The composure, complacency, and
+self-centered quality of the Venetians was a source of strength to their
+artists and as well a limitation. The city stuck closely to its chief
+business of gaining greatly in order to live magnificently. And unlike
+Florence, Venice interprets magnificence in the most material terms, in
+terms of velvet and veined marbles, fair skins and lustrous hair, in
+feasting and measured revelry, grave and gentle manners, colorful
+pageantry in honor of God, his saints and the Serenissima Republica. You
+will not find poets, scholars, scientists a-plenty at Venice. Her
+painters have no tendency to be also architects, sculptors,
+mathematicians, theorists in æsthetics; they stick placidly to the main
+business of painting. And perhaps just because the Venetian painter
+refused to be diverted from the problems proper to his craft, his
+progress was so rapid and assured, and the Venetian school, simply as
+painting, the most beautiful school of painting the world has ever seen.
+
+It was written in the lagoon itself that Venetian painting should be a
+school of color. Long before the marble and porphyry palaces and the
+shining bridges of Renaissance Venice spanned the canals, the brown
+water gave its satiny reflections of rude hut, coppered galley, tawny
+sail, and, in days of complete calm, of the serrated ivory of the Julian
+Alps or the velvety azure of the Euganean Hills. As the city grew
+palatially, the marble and gold of the palace fronts, and spires and
+domes, with the buff and red of soaring bell towers, further enriched
+the shimmering of the lagoon. Its waters were ruffled not merely by
+winds blending and effacing the weaving of borrowed colors, but also by
+the passing of gilded processional barges with rhythmical oars
+celebrating the Assumption of the Virgin or the marriage of Venice to
+the Adriatic.
+
+Ashore the splendor was hardly less. Along the balustrades of
+innumerable little bridges, the rose or yellow marble got an ineffable
+finish from the touch of countless hands. Dusky archways gave upon
+courts encrusted with variegated marbles, porphyry and mosaics. In the
+gloomy streets, gay pictorial frescoes enlivened the fronts of the less
+pretentious houses. In the great Piazza of St. Mark and other open
+spaces, often passed in solemn procession the religious confraternities
+called Schools, the members garbed with a splendor rare even in the
+Renaissance. There were clubs of young fops, not yet broken to the
+paternal commerce, who gave themselves to the invention and display of
+the finest tailoring and haberdashery. And the unorganized kindred
+activities of the women of all ages were as effective from the point of
+view of social display. Such was the spectacle that Venice offered the
+painter for record and even more for inspiration. And the greatness of
+the Venetian painters lay in their capacity to lend to this chiefly
+material splendor their own kind of ideality.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 208. Presentation; Flight to Egypt; Miracle at Cana; Temptation.
+    From an Italo-Byzantine Altar-front of about 1350.—_Trieste._
+]
+
+When Venetian painting about the year 1350 made its first timid
+assertions of originality, the leading influence was that of the late
+Byzantine artists of the Slavonian coast and the Ionian Islands. We see
+their narrative painting assuming a very slightly Italian guise in the
+composite altar-front preserved in the museum of Trieste. Figure 208.
+Its date cannot be very late in the fourteenth century, and the
+stereotyped religious compositions represent models vividly before the
+Venetian painter up to the Renaissance. Such Venetian masters as Paolo,
+active from 1332 to 1358, and Lorenzo, whose work falls a generation
+later, make slight and external improvements on the Byzantine
+manner.[70] They reject its more rigid formulas—the gold web over
+drapery, the multiplied small folds, the painfully schematized muscles.
+They add on their own account radiant blond coloring, splendid brocades,
+more gorgeous fashions of gilding, and a new type of architectural
+arrangement. The elaborate altar-backs with perforated pilasters, and
+flamboyant arches and cresting; with full-length figures below and
+half-length of like scale above, become the standard form of Venetic
+_ancona_ about 1350 and remains so for nearly a century and a half. We
+may see the form, with the upper central panel modernized, in Lorenzo’s
+Annunciation of 1357, in the Venetian Academy. The effect depends
+largely on the frame-maker. Such altar-pieces are made more thoughtfully
+by Caterino and Donato and indeed persist in all Northern Italy until
+after 1450. Figure 211. We may study a similar type of _ancona_ with
+narratives instead of single figures in the very accomplished and
+colorful work doubtfully ascribed to Nicolo Semitecolo, towards the
+beginning of the new century. Though the narratives follow pretty
+closely the old Byzantine requirements, the whole surface shows the
+flower-bed variety and harmony of color which is proper to Venice. Such
+work, as a blend of Byzantine and Gothic features, repeats what Siena
+had effected with far greater originality and _finesse_ about seventy
+years earlier under Duccio and Simone Martini. Modena and Bologna and
+Padua through the latter half of the fourteenth century share this
+development, but again on a basis of rather marked inferiority to Siena.
+
+The Venetian authorities were fully conscious of the backwardness of
+their own artists. When the Ducal Palace was finished in 1365, they
+called to fresco its great hall not any of the various local followers
+of Paolo and Lorenzo, but Guariento from neighboring Padua. He executed
+the great Coronation of the Virgin which was later damaged by fire and
+covered by Tintoretto’s Paradise. The temporary removal of Tintoretto’s
+canvas showed for a time the crumbling remains of Guariento’s fresco. It
+is in an elaborate Gothic-Byzantine style and abounds in incidental
+architectural ornament. Below the ceremony of the Coronation there is a
+screen of pierced marble niches occupied by graceful angels. It is a
+motive that will often recur in the new century. On the whole Guariento
+brings little new to Venice, but he does demonstrate the decorative
+possibilities of the local style. His influence was restricted because
+the Venetians soon ceased to work in fresco.
+
+The impetus necessary to lift Venetian painting out of its routine
+condition was supplied in the fifteenth century by Gentile da Fabriano
+and Pisanello. Gentile, who worked in the Ducal Palace about 1410,
+commanded both the exquisiteness of the Sienese style and its narrative
+breadth. Unhappily his Venetian frescoes which are lauded in
+contemporary accounts have perished. His sweetness and ideality are
+attested by various Madonnas. We may infer his raciness and vivacity as
+a narrative painter from the predella of his master work, the Adoration
+of the Kings (1423). The little panel of the Presentation in the Temple
+is admirable for its architectural inscenation and for the actuality of
+its incidental figures. We have a man whose eye takes in the look of
+things. This is even more the case with Pisanello (1397–1455), who
+worked a little later in the same hall. He has severe notions of
+draughtsmanship, as befitted the greatest of all medallists. He brought
+from Verona, where his artistic ideas were formed, the ideal of
+elaborate and credible setting, especially as regards the relations of
+figures to architecture. In his ruined fresco of St. George of Verona,
+Figure 209, we may catch his quality. But the Veronese style is really
+better represented by such immediate predecessors as Avanzo and
+Altichiero. Jointly about 1385 they frescoed the great Oratorio of St.
+George at Padua. Especially remarkable are the legends of the titular
+saint, Figure 210. Through repainting one may still discern the dignity
+and discretion of the arrangement, and in particular the just and
+tasteful elaboration of contemporary architectural features. Florentine
+and Sienese frescoes of the time are hardly as accomplished. The festal
+value of the architecture persists as a leading ideal of the school of
+Verona down to her greatest master, Paolo Veronese, and the ideal was
+taken up with conviction at Venice—became indeed the distinctive feature
+of her narrative school.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 210. Altichiero of Verona. St. George baptizes the Family of the
+    Princess. Fresco.—_Oratory of St. George, Padua._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 209. Pisanello. St. George meets the Princess. Fresco.—_Sant’
+    Anastasia. Verona._
+]
+
+Jacopo Bellini,[71] the first great painter whom Venice herself
+developed, was the pupil of Gentile da Fabriano and also profoundly
+influenced by the Veronese. Thus he combines in himself the two main
+strains of early Venetian painting—its desire for sweetness and its
+desire for vivacity and elaborate truthfulness in narrative. Alongside
+of Jacopo Bellini worked the faithful imitators of Paolo, Lorenzo, and
+Guariento. Such artists as Jacobello del Fiore and Michele Giambono,
+while often inherently attractive, are of small importance. Their
+contemporary, Antonio Vivarini, though in most ways less sensitively the
+artist, prepared the way for the conservative school of Murano.
+Antonio’s quality is somewhat obscured by his habit of working with a
+German partner, Giovanni. Yet the part of Antonio, as represented by his
+altar-piece in the Vatican, dated 1464, Figure 211, seems to have been
+merely to build cautiously on the work of Guariento and Lorenzo. His
+nephew, Alvise, and his younger brother, Bartolommeo, become influential
+figures towards the end of the century.
+
+The hope of the future rested with that far more searching spirit,
+Jacopo Bellini. He gave to art not merely his own indefatigable
+curiosity but two sons of genius, Gentile and Giovanni. All the leading
+tendencies of the Early Renaissance in Venice originate with this
+remarkable family. We first meet Jacopo Bellini in 1424 as an assistant
+of Gentile da Fabriano and he worked on till 1470. The great decorative
+canvases which he made for the Ducal Palace, and for the Schools of St.
+Mark and St. John the Evangelist have perished, while the few pictures
+remaining from his brush are mostly of late date and inadequately
+express his ambitions. His Madonnas at the Uffizi, Venice, Paris, and
+Milan retain the exquisite sweetness of his master’s vein. Their modest
+grace may be felt in the little Madonna, Figure 212, at Venice. Of
+admirable gentleness and spirit is the ornate Annunciation painted in
+1444, in Sant’ Alessandro at Brescia. Its predella panels, although
+probably of student execution, show how definitely his narrative
+compositions derive from Altichiero and the Veronese.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 211. Antonio Vivarini. St. Antony (polychromed wood statue) and
+    Saints. 1464.—_Vatican Gallery, Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 212. Jacopo Bellini. Madonna.—_Venice._
+]
+
+But we get the full stature of the man, not from the minor paintings
+which chance has spared, but from the two extraordinary sketch books
+respectively in the Louvre and the National Gallery. Here we trace his
+day by day exercises. Perspective is his constant concern. He piles up
+elaborate architecture with an extravagance which even his Veronese
+exemplars never ventured. The subject matter gets lost in the setting.
+The Annunciation becomes a mere episode in an architectural
+extravaganza. So does the Feast of Herod, Figure 213. The buildings
+generally are of ornate Early Renaissance type. He loves to adorn them
+with swags and statues and low reliefs. Sometimes he sketches actual
+Roman sculptures and coins, medallions, and inscriptions. He makes
+strange, stern backgrounds for his outdoor scenes, with twisted
+stratified mountains and stately distant cities. He loves wild beasts;
+draws capital horses for St. George or for Perseus. He is a bit of a
+humanist, doing bacchanals, with mischievous satyrs. There are a few
+fine portraits and designs for Madonnas. Thus these sketches with the
+silver point and quill pen anticipate every mode of the next
+generation—the narrative style, the altar-piece, the pastoral mythology.
+One feels in the sketch books a nature rather alert and curious than
+thorough—a certain lack of concentration and real seriousness. But the
+sketches evince an inexhaustible fancy, and if they are ever published
+cheaply, they should rival in popularity the most loved picture-books of
+fairyland. Jacopo was not only a versatile but a travelled artist.
+Active for a time at the brilliant court of Lionello d’Este at Ferrara,
+he had also visited Florence and probably Rome. But his most important
+move as regards the history of art, was to Padua, about 1453. There the
+whole course of Venetian painting was shaped by the apparently casual
+fact that an austere young painter named Andrea Mantegna fell in love
+with Jacopo’s daughter, Niccolosia, and married her. Through that
+alliance, the most formidable of brothers-in-law became the artistic
+mentor of Gentile and Giovanni Bellini.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 213. Jacopo Bellini. The Feast of Herod (in upper right
+    loggia).—_From the Paris Sketch Book._
+]
+
+For a moment, indeed, Padua and Mantegna quite efface Venice in
+interest. For ten years before this lucky marriage, Padua had been the
+scene of intense artistic activity. Donatello, the most powerful realist
+sculptor of Florence, was at work on the bronze reliefs for the altar of
+Sant’ Antonio, and on the Gattamelata statue. He gave young Mantegna a
+strong impulse in the direction of constructive realism. Such Florentine
+realists as Paolo Uccello and Fra Filippo Lippi were also transient
+visitors at this time. And Padua, ever an academic city, saw the first
+systematic art school started by a shrewd and able master, Francesco
+Squarcione. Squarcione collected Roman marbles and bronzes, concerned
+himself with the new mysteries of perspective, foreshortening and
+precise anatomy. He made his students acquire a line with the resiliency
+of bronze. He made them copy minutely veined marbles and sculptured
+reliefs. He insisted that every picture should have garlands of laurel
+mixed with vegetables and fruits. The whole surface had to be brought to
+the lustrous surface of an enamel. Severe teaching usually attracts good
+pupils. So it was in Squarcione’s case; he had scores of pupils from all
+of the Venetic region and even from Dalmatia beyond the Adriatic. He was
+too sensible to paint much himself; it didn’t pay so successful a
+teacher. So the few pictures ascribed to him are either of small
+importance or of dubious authenticity. But his stamp is on all his
+pupils. What his teaching meant may be grasped in early Mantegna and
+even better in a painter who never emancipated himself—Carlo Crivelli,
+of Venice, “Eques Aureatus.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 214. Carlo Crivelli. Madonna. Angels bearing Symbols of the
+    Passion.—_Verona._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 215. Carlo Crivelli. Pietà.—_Boston._
+]
+
+Crivelli’s[72] fame was great but provincial. Originally most of his
+altar-pieces adorned churches of the Adriatic Marches. Dozens have
+passed thence to the museums of Europe and America. One and all they
+seem less painted things than the most splendid of mineral productions.
+It is incredible that mere brush and paint can achieve so tense a line
+and such jewel-like surfaces. Entirely typical is an early Madonna, at
+Verona, Figure 214. The great ancona of 1476 in the National Gallery
+shows him faithful to the arrangements of the early Venetians. The
+Annunciation, in the same gallery, painted ten years later, reveals him
+affected by the narrative tradition of Jacopo Bellini. In America fine
+Pietàs at Boston, Figure 215, New York, and in the Johnson Collection,
+Philadelphia, exemplify his rectitude and energy. While Mrs. Gardner’s
+St. George and the Dragon, as the most fastidious of fairy tales,
+consoles us for the absence of this subject among the few pictures of
+Jacopo Bellini. From his beginnings about 1460 to his death in 1493,
+Carlo Crivelli remained true to his early teaching. Whoever understands
+his works has little need to consult further the entirely similar
+achievement of such great Ferrarese painters as Marco Zoppo (1440
+ca.–1498) and Cosimo Tura (1430 ca.–1495). The influence of Squarcione
+passed to the conservative painters at Venice, and influenced the entire
+Murano school. We have a resplendent masterpiece of this sort in the
+single known work of Antonio da Negroponte, Figure 216, in San Francesco
+della Vigna, at Venice. It combines with its evident Squarcionesque
+features, the magnificence of the old Gothic-Byzantine style, and much
+of the sweetness of Jacopo Bellini. Its date is about 1450, and the
+picture is an excellent point of departure for our understanding of the
+radical reform that came into Venice and all Lombardy with the activity
+of Andrea Mantegna.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 216. Fra Antonio da Negroponte. Madonna.—_S. Francesco della
+    Vigna._
+]
+
+Born in 1431 at Vicenza, we find Mantegna[73] enrolled at the tender age
+of thirteen in the painters’ guild at Padua. He is described as an
+adoptive son of Squarcione. Mantegna was scarcely twenty-four when he
+engaged with other fellow pupils to decorate a chapel in the Church of
+the Eremitani, the subject being the legends of St. James and St.
+Christopher. In the six panels assigned to Mantegna, his quality and
+superiority are already manifest. His style is severely archæological
+and Roman. He endeavors honestly to reconstruct the times of the
+apostles. But his method is more severe than that of the Romans
+themselves. The line moves with the slow authority of an engraved
+contour. The relief is dry and harsh. There is little sense of
+difference between living forms and sculptured figures. The landscape is
+built in spiral strata as if worked out of metal. Here transpires
+clearly the influence of Jacopo Bellini, which is as evident also in the
+ornate architectural settings. The colors are at once dull and garish,
+the textures scrupulously studied after Squarcione’s precepts. A most
+strenuous art this, and with all its pedantry full of power and dignity.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 217. Mantegna. St. James led to Execution. Fresco.—_Eremitani,
+    Padua._
+]
+
+Certain innovations in perspective should be noted. In the fresco, St.
+James led to Execution, Figure 217, Mantegna avoids the usual
+conventional perspective, which tilts the picture towards the spectator;
+and treats the group as if it were on an actual stage set at the height
+of the fresco. Thus no ground is seen; the projecting floor cuts off the
+feet of the figures; and all vanishing points are precisely set at the
+level of the spectator’s eye below. The aim is to create illusion.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 218. Andrea Mantegna. Madonna with Saints.—_San Zeno, Verona._
+]
+
+Before the completion of the Eremitani frescoes, Mantegna had married
+Niccolosia Bellini, had profited largely by her father’s advice, and had
+influenced strongly her two brothers, Gentile and Giovanni. They seem to
+have been the first eager pupils of the man who was soon to be the
+artistic schoolmaster for all Northern Italy. Two years after his
+marriage, in 1455, Mantegna liberated himself from legal bondage to
+Squarcione, and soon after began the masterpiece of his developed
+Renaissance style, the altar-back for San Zeno Maggiore at Verona,
+Figure 218. It was finished in 1459, the artist being twenty-eight years
+old. It is a little over-rich, finished throughout like a miniature, and
+very stately. In arrangement it obeys the artist’s new law of illusion.
+The base of the picture is precisely at the level of the eye, so no
+floor is seen. The carved classical frame is regarded as the front of an
+actual pavillion which is continued in paint. Without the frame, the
+architectural perspective of the picture would not explain itself, and
+if the picture were set higher or lower all the perspective relations
+would be wrong. At Siena, a century and more earlier, the Lorenzetti had
+devised this motive of an open box of which the frame is the plastic
+front. Mantegna made this sort of illusionism standard for Venice and
+all Northern Italy. Its value is open to question, but I believe that
+the monumental altar-pieces of Mantegna and Giovanni Bellini gain
+something in gravity and stability from this careful adjustment of the
+perspective to the actual position of the spectator. At any rate it was
+the rigid logic and probity of Mantegna that gave to Venetian art
+precisely the tonic stimulus it needed.
+
+By thirty he was famous, and yielding to repeated persuasion, he left
+Padua for Mantua and the court of the most generous art patrons of the
+moment, the Gonzagas. His most notable work for them was the decoration
+of the Camera degli Sposi, 1474, in their great palace, and the canvases
+of the triumphs of Cæsar, 1481 to 1494, which, sadly damaged and
+repainted, are now seen at Hampton Court. The two series represent
+strikingly the dual and never completely harmonized strains in
+Mantegna’s genius—realism and archaism. He was never more the realist
+than in the room decorated in honor of the marriage of Lodovico Gonzaga
+and Barbara of Brandenburg, the Camera degli Sposi. The motives are
+wholly novel—no religious subjects, nothing mythological, just the
+Gonzaga family and their courtiers, sitting in conversation, meeting
+ceremoniously, or preparing for the hunt. Nowhere before had such a
+consistent use of the principle of illusionism been made, not even in
+Roman mural painting of the Antonine age. Mantegna has completely
+painted away the real walls of the room, and has replaced the real
+architecture by a simulated classical pavillion, with arcades looking
+out to the country side and a round opening above. All the figures are
+out of doors. To see the scheme properly you must stand precisely in the
+centre of the room and turn on your heel. The arrangement in short is
+periscopic. As you look up you will see a balcony with cupids, Figure
+219, standing on the outside ledge and maids of honor and peacocks
+looking down over the balustrade. You see everything feet foremost as if
+it were actually there. Then you look out through the arcades where the
+view of outside doings is sometimes interrupted by a curtain. Generally
+it is drawn aside that you may see these great folk at ease outside
+their pleasure house, Figure 220. The portraits are of utmost dignity
+and authority. In dealing with real people Mantegna’s style is less
+pinched than in his classical decorations. If I have insisted on the
+point of illusionism, it is only because the audacious logic of
+Correggio and a host of baroque followers for a century and more really
+grows out of this scheme at Mantua. You will see the open well with
+figures outside the parapet in Correggio’s dome at Parma, and the
+figures outside the painted roof in the Convent of St. Paolo. Indeed,
+you have only to let the clouds come down through such open roofs and
+seat decorative figures on the clouds to arrive at the fully developed
+baroque style. And it is odd enough that its most romantic extravagances
+are clearly deducible from this rather sober and pedantic illusionism of
+Andrea Mantegna.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 219. Mantegna. Detail of Ceiling.—_Camera degli Sposi, Mantua._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 220. Mantegna. Portraits of the Gonzaga Family. Fresco.—_Camera
+    degli Sposi, Mantua._
+]
+
+Of the painted cloths representing the Triumphs of Cæsar, Figure 221,
+(1484–1492), nine remain in debased condition at Hampton Court, England.
+Here the classicism of Mantegna finds its most legitimate expression.
+The designs are better seen in the engravings of his school and in the
+later woodcut copies by Andreini.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 221. Mantegna. Triumph of Cæsar.—_Hampton Court, England._
+]
+
+Despite such great commissions, Mantegna lived in something near
+poverty. He could never resist a beautiful antique, and he was proud and
+difficult in his relations to exacting patrons. His style after his
+Roman visit of 1488 to 1490 loses something of its tension and develops
+breadth. Perhaps the most impressive picture of this time is the Madonna
+of Victory, Figure 222, in the Louvre, which was painted in 1495 to
+celebrate Gianfrancesco Gonzaga’s drawn battle with the French at
+Fornovo. Its severity is mollified by the graciousness of the evergreen
+bower in which the group is set and by the contrasting seriousness of
+St. Elizabeth and the kneeling donor. These figures forecast a mystical
+and tender quality in certain of the later Madonnas.
+
+In his last years Mantegna undertook an attractive but difficult task in
+decorating the study of the famous bluestocking, Isabella d’Este, wife
+of Gianfrancesco. With the pertinacity of a suffragette born out of due
+time, this great lady framed the most elaborate written programmes, upon
+the literal accomplishment of which she insisted. Her correspondence
+with such unfortunate protegés as Perugino and Lorenzo Costa is among
+the delightful eccentricities of Renaissance annals. The resultant
+decorations reflect the sophisticated and somewhat brittle grace of
+Isabella’s own personality. None are better than those of Mantegna which
+were done about the year 1500. His Parnassus, Figure 223, with its
+romantically picturesque gods and godesses, and its admirable round of
+dancing muses, is the best that Northern Italy can show in comparison
+with Botticelli’s mythologies, unless it be the companion piece, Minerva
+expelling the Vices, Figure 224, which is wonderful alike in energy,
+inventiveness and grotesque humor, anticipating in its mood similar
+refinements in Spenser’s “Faerie Queene” and Milton’s “Comus.” Mantegna
+in these works becomes the true precursor of that poetic pastoralism
+which in Giorgione soon dominates the Venetian scene.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 222. Mantegna. Madonna of Victory.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 223. Mantegna. Parnassus.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 224. Mantegna. Minerva Expelling the Vices.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Mantegna lived on, none too well treated by the younger Gonzagas, until
+1506. To relieve his poverty he offered for sale his most treasured
+marble, an Agrippina. He left in his studio his most rigid and painful
+piece,—the Foreshortened Christ he called it. All his probity is in the
+picture. For Giovanni Bellini and others it served as the highest model
+of the tragic style, and it refutes the shallow views of such as find
+Mantegna merely academic and cold. He left many engravings and
+marvellous drawings in which perhaps better than in the paintings we may
+feel the exquisiteness of his austerely fastidious taste. Such a drawing
+as the Judith in the Uffizi, Figure 225, is an epitome of all that
+Mantegna had to bequeath to the Renaissance.
+
+Well his contemporaries knew the value of his example. It rebuked the
+slackness of their own practice. Alongside the exquisitely modelled foot
+of his St. Sebastian in the Louvre, stands the severed marble foot from
+a Greek statue. As he ever measured his work against the antique, so the
+painters of Milan, Vicenza, Ferrara, Verona and Venice had to measure
+their work against his. And that simple act of honest comparison in a
+single generation furthered the art of Northern Italy to a degree that
+in Tuscany it had taken a century to attain.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 225. Andrea Mantegna. Judith. Wash Drawing.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 226.—Antonello da Messina. The Condottiere.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 227. Antonello da Messina. St. Jerome in his Study.—_London._
+]
+
+At the moment when Mantegna’s influence was at its height, it was
+happily modified in a realistic direction by the advent of Antonello da
+Messina.[74] Despite recent discoveries, the career of this great
+Sicilian realist remains obscure. Vasari imagined him a traveler in
+Flanders and a direct pupil of Jan van Eyck, whose invention of oil
+painting he was believed to have adopted. The legend is thoroughly
+discredited by newly discovered documents. Antonello came up in Sicily
+under the influence of visiting Spanish masters. From them he caught at
+second hand the point of view of Northern realism, from them he learned
+the advantages of the more fluid and lustrous oil vehicle. But he must
+also have seen and carefully studied fine paintings of the Flemish
+school. There were such in Sicily and at Naples. Antonello emerges about
+1470 as the most energetic and truthful draughtsman of his time, and a
+portraitist of powerful character equipped with a new and better
+technique. In 1475 he was in Venice and Lombardy. Such portraits as the
+captain of mercenaries, Il Condottiere, Figure 226, at the Louvre,
+immediately set the standard for the entire region. We no longer find
+flat profiles, but heads perfectly drawn in three-quarters aspect,
+modelled minutely, but with no loss of character and effect. No such eye
+as Antonello’s, unless it were that of Piero della Francesca, had as yet
+applied itself to the problems of painting. Whether in the nude, in his
+St. Sebastians and Crucifixions, or in his rare interiors, such as the
+St. Jerome in his Study, Figure 227, in the National Gallery, he
+announced new perfections in lighting, modelling and perspective. He
+painted for the Church of San Cassiano at Venice a stately and massive
+Madonna which led the local painters in the direction of mass and
+monumentality. Recent criticism has recognised the mutilated central
+panel in the Vienna gallery. Antonello’s work imposes itself primarily
+by its mere intensity of existence. It has no charm, and no especial
+emotion. Precisely this impersonality makes it an admirable and safe
+model. Before his coming the Venetians had experimented with oil
+mediums, but they gladly adopted his lustrous enamels, and strong
+shadows. He returned soon to his native Sicily, where he died in 1479,
+but his brief sojourn in the North had left its stamp. Montagna of
+Vicenza, Cima of Conegliano, Buonsignori of Verona, Alvise Vivarini of
+Venice are among his conscious emulators, and all the figure painting of
+Venice assumes new gravity and authority. And we may mark his influence
+even in the leading masters of the new school, Gentile and Giovanni
+Bellini.
+
+The tardy emergence of these two brothers of genius is one of the
+puzzles of the Venetian school. Neither makes any impression till he is
+in his forties, and their work has no directive influence till after
+1480. The simplest explanation is that of Mr. Berenson. He suggests that
+the brothers loyally contented themselves with the position of partners
+in their father’s _bottega_ until his death in 1470. From that moment
+their progress is swift. Giovanni enlarges the style of the altar-piece
+in a Renaissance and monumental sense, and later moves gradually in a
+pastoral direction. Gentile brings to its perfection the complicated
+narrative style of his father. Both paint admirable portraits. Since
+Gentile is less an innovator than a perfector of an established mode, we
+may well begin with him.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 228. Gentile Bellini. Sultan Mahomet II.—_London._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 229. Gentile Bellini. A Turkish Youth. Miniature.—_Mrs. John L.
+    Gardner, Boston._
+]
+
+Such early works as the organ shutters of St. Mark’s and the
+processional banner with the portrait of the Blessed Lorenzo
+Giustiniani, 1465, show that he based himself on Mantegna. His career,
+however, is associated with narrative mural paintings for the schools,
+in which work he developes a real originality. Whatever he painted in
+1466 for the Great School of St. Mark was soon destroyed in a fire. It
+was presumably the fame of these canvases that got him in 1469 the
+titles of knight and count palatine. In 1479, being fifty years old, he
+was called to Constantinople to serve that cruel voluptuary, Sultan
+Mahomet II. Gentile’s portrait of him, now in the National Gallery,
+Figure 228, is an appalling piece of exact characterization. One feels
+the malignity of a character softened by vices, but retaining all mental
+lucidity and capacities for both cruelty and calculated self-indulgence.
+A more amiable souvenir of this trip is the exquisite miniature portrait
+of a young Moslem prince, Figure 229, which is at Fenway Court. Gentile
+brought back to Venice the new title of Pasha. We do not find him about
+his proper work until 1492, when he agrees to do “not for money but by
+superhuman inspiration” the new canvases necessitated by the fire in the
+Great School of St. Mark.
+
+The greatest of these is the view of the Piazza of St. Mark’s with the
+procession made by the School itself on Corpus Christi day, Figure 230.
+In the centre is their venerated relic of the True Cross. About it
+attention is fixed and almost military, relaxing gradually at the sides.
+There are hundreds of figures and scores of portraits in the picture,
+yet there is no smallness of presentation. Such eighteenth century town
+painters as Canale and his followers could hardly improve upon the
+truthfulness of the scene as regards light and air even. Its value as
+record is immense. And, barring a certain stiffness, its value as art is
+hardly less.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 230. Gentile Bellini. Corpus Christi Procession in Piazza of S.
+    Marco.—_Venice._
+]
+
+Another panel from this series shows Gentile’s really great capacity as
+an out-of-doors painter. It represents the miraculous recovery of the
+reliquary of the cross which had fallen into the canal. How perfectly
+the play of light over the encrusted and plastered palaces is felt, its
+shimmer upon the smooth water and through the moving crowds! In the
+essentials of _plein-airisme_ we moderns have not so much surpassed this
+work. And if Gentile seems after all not quite a great artist, it is due
+to that impassivity which is proper to a luminist. With equal realism,
+Gentile’s imitator, Carpaccio, added sentiment, hence he is beloved and
+Gentile ignored. Yet early Venetian narrative painting is complete with
+Gentile, and from every consideration of naturalism it is immensely
+superior to anything produced at Florence in this period. It gains all
+the smaller points of representation with the most amazing ease, perhaps
+because it waives the greater issue of monumentality. It is well put
+together, but shows little selection, is even at its best rather
+casually full of persons and things. This produces, as compared with
+Florence, an odd reversal of conditions. The altar-piece, which in
+Florence is rather intimate, is in Venice far the most monumental type
+of painting. We study the development of monumental design better in
+Giovanni Bellini’s altar-backs than in his brother’s narratives. To
+Gentile, at once a searching spirit in details and a conservative on the
+whole, it must have been a great satisfaction to have perfected the
+narrative mode that his father had so brilliantly inaugurated.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 231. Giovanni Bellini. Pietà.—_Milan._
+]
+
+After 1500, being in the seventies and ailing, old Gentile acquired the
+ominous habit of frequently making and unmaking wills. His last one,
+which became effective in 1507, left to his vigorous brother, Giovanni,
+the precious paternal sketch books and the heavy duty of finishing for
+St. Mark’s School the vast Canvas of St. Mark Preaching at Alexandria,
+which is now at Milan. Giovanni was nearly eighty himself, but he put
+the great work through handsomely.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 232. Giovanni Bellini. Christ at Gethsemane.—_London._
+]
+
+Giovanni Bellini[75] was a natural son, but as was the humane Italian
+custom, taken into his father’s family. He was born about 1430, and his
+early efforts were completely dominated by Mantegna. Indeed he hardly
+finds himself artistically until he is fifty, and then he develops a
+most gracious capacity for growth which ceases only with his death at
+eighty-five. Of the score of pictures which are Mantegnesque in quality
+the earliest and most remarkable is the Pietà at Milan, Figure 231. In
+the tragic power it outdoes Mantegna himself, and with all its hardness,
+it is more painter-like. The distribution of light and dark is broader,
+the expression more homely and genuine. Only a little later, perhaps
+towards 1470, is the Christ on the Mount of Olives, at London, Figure
+232. With a very similar picture by Mantegna in the same gallery, it is
+based on a sketch of Jacopo Bellini’s. Although Giovanni frankly
+imitates the rigid folds of drapery and landscape from Mantegna, it is
+with a distinct difference. The mood is gentler, details are less
+obtrusive, there is an exquisite sense of evening sky, and of hills in
+gloom, and of the coming of twilight over a river plain. It is the first
+greatly felt landscape in Venetian painting, and though Giovanni was far
+to surpass it in fineness and accuracy, even he never excelled it in
+depth and truthfulness of feeling. The serenity of the eventide is the
+fitting foil to Our Lord’s single moment of human weakness and despair.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 233. Giovanni Bellini. Madonna.—_Estate Theodore Davis._
+]
+
+Giovanni’s early Madonnas are singularly various. We have one very
+stately and tender in the estate of Theodore M. Davis, Figure 233. The
+Madonna in the John G. Johnson collection, Philadelphia, is wistful and
+emaciated. One belonging to Mr. Philip Lehman, New York, is of sensuous,
+peasant type, while the painting, unlike the soberness of the two
+earlier ones, shows the utmost resplendence of Mantegnesque enamels. Its
+date may be about 1470. So we see Giovanni wholly flexible and
+experimental at forty, and developing chiefly under Mantegna’s
+influence.
+
+Giovanni’s emancipation from Mantegna takes place very gradually. It is
+virtually complete in the Transfiguration, Figure 234, at Naples which
+may be dated towards 1480. Bellini asserts himself fully in the gracious
+monumentality of the chief group, while his Arcadian mood is forecast in
+the ample landscape softly invested with a colorful light and shade.
+There is a more specific emotion and a more romantic richness of setting
+in St. Francis receiving the Stigmata, Figure 207, Frick Collection,
+which may be a year or two later. These are both Wordsworthian pictures,
+imbued with a mystical tenderness for natural appearances. Such are the
+sources from which Giorgione will soon draw his pagan pastoralism.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 234. Giovanni Bellini. The Transfiguration.—_Naples._
+]
+
+Towards 1480 Giovanni Bellini’s work assumes monumental breadth, and
+withal a new sweetness. His Madonnas settle into what was to be the
+Venetian type—superb, mature forms at once queenly and maternal. Earlier
+there had been no Madonna type in his work but a singular variety of
+forms and faces. In generalizing the stately charm of Venetian
+motherhood, Giovanni moves towards the grand style, and does so nearly
+twenty years sooner than the Florentines. His characteristic works are
+now great altar-pieces, with monumental distribution of the figures
+within fine architectural spaces. Generally the frame is a part of the
+pictorial organism, the plastic front of a pavillion. It is about the
+only survival of Mantegna’s practice in these solemn and gracious
+pictures. Unluckily the first of the series perished in 1867 in the
+disastrous fire which robbed us also of Titian’s Death of St. Peter
+Martyr. But surviving copies of this altar-back for the Church of S.
+Giovanni e Paolo confirm the tradition that it was painted well before
+1480. In its arrangement and details, especially in the tendency to
+crowd the many figures forward, it reveals to me the influence of
+Antonello da Messina’s great altar-piece for San Cassiano. It had
+apparently a somewhat rigid formality like that of the slightly earlier
+piece at Pesaro. Bellini is not yet quite at ease in his new and broader
+style, but he has at least glimpsed the ideal of monumentality and
+acquired a new technique, that of oil painting, in which to express it.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 235. Giovanni Bellini. Madonna with Saints.—_Frari, Venice._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 235_a._> Giovanni Bellini. Madonna of St. Job.—_Venice._
+]
+
+We find him full-grown in the noble Madonna of St. Job, Figure 235a,
+made for the church of that name about 1484 and now in the Venice
+Academy. In this picture the new Venetian ideals of ardor and gravity
+unite harmoniously with the old ideal of material splendor. What
+playings of light and half-lights there are over mosaics, polished
+marbles and carvings! How admirably the strict symmetry of the group is
+relieved by varying the postures of the six saints and by contrasting
+the sober garb of the monkish saints with the superb nudity of Saints
+Job and Sebastian and the shimmering silks of the playing angels below.
+And the great picture, with all its monumentality, retains much of that
+old lyrical fire, which is gradually yielding to more sedate and
+reflective aims.
+
+We shall find the two great Madonnas of 1488, for the Frari, Figure 235,
+and for St. Peter’s at Murano, conceived more impassively. For the city
+church, Bellini insisted on hieratic effect and incidental splendors,
+reverting to the form of the triptych and arranging it after Mantegna’s
+fashion with the frame and picture in one perspective. It is perhaps the
+grandest as it is the most formal of his altar-backs, consciously regal
+in the attitude of the Virgin, with saints as magisterial as so many
+Venetian senators. For the suburban church at Murano he set the Madonna
+low amid her paladins and opened up delicious landscape vistas at the
+sides. The thing, with all its dignity, is lyrical, and almost intimate.
+It anticipates the mood of the later open-air Sacred Conversations.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 236.—Giovanni Bellini. Madonna with St. Paul and St.
+    George.—_Venice._
+]
+
+In the nineties and the early years of the new century, masterpiece
+follows masterpiece, and we must proceed by selection. Giovanni invents
+a charming form of altar-piece for private chapels. These Madonnas and
+saints at half-length have already the mood of the later conversation
+pieces, and need only the less symmetrical scheme which Bellini’s pupil,
+Titian, will soon give them. For harmony one might prefer the Madonna
+with two female saints, or for robust contrast and vitality the Madonna
+with two burly military champions, Figure 236. Both are in the Venetian
+Academy.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 237. Giovanni Bellini. Madonna of the Trees.—_Venice._
+]
+
+The single, half-length Madonnas, Figure 237, of this period are counted
+by scores, and are in many public and private collections in Europe and
+America. They are singularly uniform in inspiration, and yet the mood is
+so rich and noble that an apparent monotony is never cloying. Bellini’s
+gift in these pictures is to combine a kind of serene obviousness with
+great delicacy. There are hints of wistfulness and sadness through the
+series, but such sentiments are never much insisted on. The real
+mysticism of these pictures is nothing but the notation of the most
+natural and mysterious thing in the world—the bond between mother and
+babe, the pride of it, the exclusiveness of it, the joyous burden of it.
+Art could hardly be less theological or more genuinely religious than in
+these Madonnas. I think no human being could miss either their
+naturalness or their sacredness.
+
+As Giovanni Bellini approached the scriptural term of years, and the
+century drew to its close, he cultivates by way of recreation certain
+old leads which become new and powerful influences on his successors.
+The element of tact in the man is miraculous. He does nothing till the
+time has come when the doing will be most useful. Thus such pastoral
+recreations as the Religious Allegory in the Uffizi, Figure 238, and the
+little symbolical panels in the Venice Academy lead directly to the
+fantastic Arcadianism of Giorgione. The Religious Allegory is vaguely an
+illustration for the old French poem “Man’s Pilgrimage.” We have a
+Paradise, with the new souls in infant form. The apostles Peter and Paul
+stand guard outside the celestial barrier, while the Madonna presides
+within. Beyond a dark stream is the hazardous world, a place of caverns
+and crags, and hermits and centaurs; of mystery and uncertainty. Perhaps
+Giovanni Bellini cared rather more for the darkling shadows over water
+and river bank, for the broken light under a veiled sky than for the
+formal allegory. Certainly the element of strangeness and glamour is
+evident enough in the five little panels depicting virtues and vices.
+Again the faery quality, our earth grown strange to us, is the basis of
+the charm. We have noted similar fantastic inventions at Florence,
+notably in the work of Piero di Cosimo. Bellini evokes a more normal
+poetry which is based on a more intimate study of nature. Such
+landscapes as his, even when unpeopled, suggest nymphs and shepherds.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 238. Giovanni Bellini. Religious Allegory, Souls in
+    Paradise.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 240. Giovanni Bellini. Doge Loredano.—_London._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 239. Giovanni Bellini. Madonna with Saints.—_S. Zaccaria._
+]
+
+At seventy, at the opening of the new century, Giovanni Bellini’s mind
+was still flexible, so much so that we hardly know whether he leads or
+follows such pupils of genius as Titian and Giorgione. His color
+acquires a deeper glow, his warm shadows are heavier and more carefully
+graduated; he drops his few remaining Mantegnesque habits. In the
+Madonna for San Zaccaria, Figure 239, dated 1505, we have no longer the
+illusionistic perspective of the altar-pieces of the ’80s. The group is
+set well back, the suffusion of the niche with air is more dense, the
+saintly figures have exchanged the old resolute, hieratic attitudes for
+a gentle dreaminess; the mood is that of Giorgione’s contemporary
+altar-piece at Castelfranco. In the portrait of Doge Loredano, Figure
+240, of the same year resolution and wistfulness blend fascinatingly.
+The delineation has the force and certainty of Antonello da Messina with
+a refinement Antonello never even glimpsed.
+
+In these later years Giovanni Bellini multiplied, largely through
+student aid, conversation pieces with gracious gatherings of saints in
+the open air. The mood is that of courtly revery. Titian and Palma will
+later repeat the theme indefinitely. One of the best is at S. Francesco
+della Vigna, and bears the date 1507. It is an idyl borrowing religious
+forms. In the altar-piece painted in 1513, Figure 241, for the church of
+S. Giovanni Crisostomo, Giambellino anticipates the new and
+compositional forms of the rising generation. The rich architecture
+opens upon a contemplative old man reading on a crag, with majestic
+mountain lines behind him athwart a serene sky. Everything above is off
+centre and diagonal, stability being preserved by the great vertical
+figures of the saints in the foreground, and by the formality of the
+parapet behind them. We have almost a picture within a picture, the
+maximum of formality and informality, of nature and artifice—all those
+elaborate and calculated beauties which we associate with Titian’s
+maturity. There is withal a mystical earnestness of which Titian himself
+lacked the secret.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 241. Giovanni Bellini. St. John Crisostom.—_S. Giov. Crisostomo._
+]
+
+In his remaining two years Bellini designed the lovely and modest nude
+Lady at her Toilet, at Vienna, and the Feast of the Gods, Figure 242,
+now in Mr. Joseph Widener’s collection at Philadelphia. His career ends
+in a rather skeptical acceptance of the sensuous graces of the new
+humanism, for the gods are merely Venetian picnickers on an excursion.
+The penetrating poetry of the picture is of a homely sort without
+pretensions to grandeur. The landscape is partly by Titian.
+
+Giovanni died in 1515, being more than eighty-five years old. As late as
+1506, Albrecht Dürer found him the greatest artist at Venice. He had
+begun with the faint dawn of the Renaissance and ended in its midday
+glow. He had raised Venetian painting to monumental estate, had mastered
+the secrets of landscape and its illumination, had initiated a
+delightful pastoralism, had conveyed religious emotion in forms humanly
+sweet and grave, had made the best of every world. Scores of his pupils
+extended his manner to Brescia, Bergamo, Vicenza, and Treviso. His
+genius knew neither haste nor hesitation, he was almost never below his
+best. The Renaissance produced a few painters of greater scope and
+powers, but none more consistently great as an artist or more venerable
+as a personality.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 242. Giovanni Bellini. Feast of the Gods.—_Widener Coll., Elkins
+    Park, Pa._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 243. Bartolommeo Vivarini. Madonna with Saints.—_Naples._
+]
+
+To appreciate his value a glance at less progressive contemporaries will
+suffice. We find Bartolommeo Vivarini normally continuing the routine of
+the Murano School. In the polyptych at Bologna, done with his elder
+brother Antonio in 1450, we have with slight Squarcionesque improvements
+the old attenuated Venetian forms. In the highly decorated Madonna at
+Naples, dated 1465, we have an intelligent use of both the
+Squarcionesque realisms, and the refinements of Jacopo Bellini. Figure
+243. Later pieces such as the triptych of 1487 at the Frari reveal a
+heavy-handed imitation of Mantegna, and any little originality of the
+master soon gets lost in the voluminous output of the shop. Bartolommeo
+died in the last year of his century, whose fair average he had well
+represented. His nephew Alvise Vivarini deserves notice as the
+transmitter of the realism of Antonello da Messina to such artists as
+Montagna, Cima, and Lorenzo Lotto. As a portraitist he has real power.
+His great altar-pieces have their bleak and unattractive nobility.
+Venice greatly honored him in confiding several of the new panels for
+the Ducal Palace to his care. But since these works of the eighties were
+soon burned, our view of Alvise remains imperfect. I suspect modern
+criticism has somewhat exaggerated his importance. He was active from
+about 1460 to 1503, and his altar-pieces afford the best foils for
+Giovanni Bellini, as revealing a lesser capacity for growth.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 244. Carpaccio. Prince Hero Taking Leave of his Father (L) and
+    Greeting Ursula (R).—_Venice._
+]
+
+We have now to trace the old narrative style to its climax and end in
+Vittore Carpaccio.[76] He inherited all the panoramic and luministic
+accomplishments of Gentile Bellini, but applied them with far greater
+imagination. He deals with legend, giving it contemporary color, and in
+his sensitive hands it becomes the most veridical and charming of fairy
+lands. Carpaccio’s training is obscure to us. It may be that the very
+mediocre narrative painter, Lazzaro Bastiani, first taught him. In any
+case he drew more from Gentile Bellini’s resolute handling of light,
+textures and costume. We first meet Carpaccio as an artist in the
+decoration of the Great School of St. Ursula from 1492 to 1495. He was
+probably all of fifty years old. The childlike legend, with its numerous
+embassies, meetings and partings, settings out and arrivings, gave him
+spectacular opportunities of which he made the most winning use. In the
+nine canvases now in the Academy we find an epitome of the courtesy,
+circumstance and adventure that accompanied travel in those days, and
+the mere spectacle is underlaid with a pensive ideality; for these are
+no ordinary journeys, but the quest of martyrdom by a princely youth and
+maiden. Nothing is insisted on, however, but the gayety of the events,
+and the picturesqueness of their settings. As in all good story-telling,
+the persuasiveness depends on veracious minor episodes. There are the
+most attentive scribes and secretaries, as if to carry off the unlikely
+matter they are inditing. The heavy ease of men-at-arms and
+self-conscious elegance of young Venetian fops make them credible
+witnesses to else incredible legend. To adorn his tales Carpaccio
+borrowed from the woodcut illustrations to Breydenbach’s “Itinerary to
+Jerusalem.” It is remarkable how he invests these mere skeletons of
+cities with color, sunlight, the glamour of the orient. About all he
+draws a veil of air saturated with sunlight, concentrated into rising
+clouds whose shadows darken the lustrous blue of the tranquil lagoon.
+There never was a more ravishing raconteur in the art of making
+incidentals count for essentials. Such a picture as Prince Hero taking
+leave of his father and greeting St. Ursula, Figure 244, is the
+fulfilment of all that old Jacopo Bellini and his Veronese precursors
+had dreamed of. It is typical of a series which has its more intimate
+phases only by way of exception. The virginal beauty of the legend gets
+a real expression only in the Vision of St. Ursula. Figure 245. The
+character of the earnest, slumbering face and the sweet slight body
+carries through the exquisitely indicated space, and we hardly need to
+be told that the wistful boyish angel is offering a martyr’s palm.
+Possibly it takes a mundane person like Carpaccio to realize the beauty
+of the more fantastic religious ardors. A completely devout person takes
+them as in the day’s work.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 245. Carpaccio. Dream of St. Ursula.—_Venice_.
+]
+
+Before the end of the century, Carpaccio painted for the School of S.
+Giovanni Evangelista the Miracle of the healing of a Demoniac. The
+picture is now in the Academy. It is a marvellous panorama of
+contemporary Venice, with the bustle of eager crowds, the slipping of
+gondolas over the canal, and light flickering over and caressing the
+manifold colors of the gay scene. It has the fidelity of Gentile Bellini
+without his dryness.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 246. Carpaccio. St. George and the Dragon.—_School of St. George
+    of the Slavonians._
+]
+
+The most delightful if not the most important monument of Renaissance
+Venice is unquestionably the School of St. George of the Slavonians. It
+is the only school that retains its primitive paintings still set in the
+original carved and golded wainscoting. There one sees in the ground
+floor the legends of St. Jerome, an odd mixture of gravity, richness,
+and humor. Nothing more sumptuous than the Saint in his exquisitely
+appointed study, or more archly comic than the scene of consternation
+when the Saint brings home his lion from the desert. The series was
+painted about 1502. Upstairs we have the chivalric legend of St. George
+of Cappadocia, painted some eight years later. Nothing could be more
+romantically entrancing than the boyish champion charging intrepidly
+over the sun-dried shreds and tatters of his predecessors into the very
+jaws of the most confidently virulent of dragons, Figure 246, unless it
+be the scene where he leads his tame dragon into the astounded court, or
+that in which he proudly baptizes his future bride and her parents while
+a Turkish band plays a fanfare. About the blowing of these horns of
+elfland there is no faintness whatever. We are in the realm of most
+palpable adventure and romance, and the emphasis depends on splendid
+color and on drawing of a magical alertness.
+
+Carpaccio’s merit as the liveliest and most persuasive of _raconteurs_
+seems so definite that it is almost a shock to meet him in other
+capacities. Also a disappointment to find in the New Testament subjects
+from the School of the Albanians, 1504, that in such stereotyped
+subjects he can be almost mediocre. Certainly in the great altar-piece
+of the Presentation in the Temple, Figure 247, at the Academy, he shows
+that he fully understands the new monumentality of Giovanni Bellini. The
+date is 1510. The picture is of the most reverent composure, and as
+tender as it is grand. In the portrait of Two Courtesans on a Balcony,
+in the Correr, Carpaccio shows a force of character wholly modern. With
+a kind of irony he has taken the moral emptiness of his sitters out of
+doors, flooded it with sunlight and air, given it harshness and
+ugliness, lavishing upon the rich costumes and fair skins the most
+delicate pains. John Ruskin will tell you that these are honest women.
+Such faith is more worthy of reverence than of imitation. The greatness
+of Carpaccio lies in the impartiality with which he renders a certain
+kind of life on its own terms. The romancer is capable of appalling
+truthfulness.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 247. Carpaccio. The Presentation.—_Venice._
+]
+
+That he was also a mystic of the most intense sort is hard to believe.
+Yet if the marvellous Meditation on the Passion, Figure 248, in the
+Metropolitan Museum, be really by him, such is the case. In a desert the
+Dead Christ sits in a crumbling throne, while two grim sages, St. Job
+and St. Onophrius, sit in rapt contemplation. Their mood has evoked the
+bodily vision of their Lord. Art has produced few such symbols for the
+hallucinative intensity of the life contemplative. These weather-beaten
+forms seem an emanation from the sands and blistering sunlight. They
+have few relations to our world. Their souls move in vast uninhabited
+spaces. That Carpaccio can have produced this masterpiece as late as
+1520, and cast it deliberately in a style learned forty years earlier
+seems to me a fantastic hypothesis, even if it has enlisted grave
+authority. The abundant similarities of the landscape with that of the
+St. Francis of the Frick Collection make me feel that the invention of
+this picture is Giovanni Bellini’s, at his moment of highest emotional
+power, about 1480. Since the actual painting is evidently in large part
+Carpaccio’s, I am driven to the by no means satisfactory hypothesis that
+Carpaccio may have executed this masterpiece, and the group to which it
+belongs, while serving as studio assistant to Giovanni Bellini. Such a
+view at least expresses my conviction that the picture transcends
+Carpaccio’s powers.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 248.—Ascribed to Carpaccio, perhaps Giovanni Bellini’s Design.
+    Desert Hermits Meditating the Passion.—_New York._
+]
+
+As for his later years, his work goes off, he loses most of his Venetian
+patronage, and paints for the obscure Istrian and Dalmatian seaports,
+the critics mock him, he dies some time after 1523, leaving no deep
+impression. Vasari dispatches him with a few condescending lines, and
+nobody cares for him till young Burne-Jones came to Venice some sixty
+years ago. He plainly stands out of the main line of progress. He was
+too romantically traditional in his themes, and too minutely
+naturalistic in his vision to fit into the monumental development of the
+Renaissance. In a sense he merely brings the old narrative tradition to
+a splendid close. But in so doing he preserves the look of an exquisite
+moment—of Venice still in her mediæval gayety and splendor, not yet
+reduced to her ultimate magnificent decorum. In him we glimpse the eager
+comeliness of patrician youth, self-sufficient in love of living. And
+this we see between the glistening waters of the lagoon and the lambent
+blue heavens, with pearly domes and bell towers rising as lightly as the
+drifting summer clouds above. All this may or may not be apart from what
+the wise esteem artistic greatness. In any case it is charm of the most
+persuasive and durable kind.
+
+Whether Giorgione of Castelfranco is to be regarded as the last of the
+Venetian primitives or as the first of the men of the Renaissance is no
+simple problem. It is further complicated by the fact that we do not
+surely know what pictures he painted. According to the austerity or
+geniality of the critics, the lists vary from eight, Lionello Venturi’s,
+to over seventy, Herbert Cook’s. Naturally I also have my own list,
+which, with old copies, runs to twenty-four, but I am unwilling to claim
+demonstrative weight for what are merely strong subjective convictions.
+Walter Pater daintily evaded the issue by writing the most subtle of
+essays not on the person, but on the School of Giorgione. I shall in
+part imitate him in defining first the Giorgionesque mood before
+considering the canon of his works.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 249. Giorgione. Portrait of a Youth.—_Berlin._
+]
+
+On the side of minor technique Giorgione marks a great advance. He early
+abandons the old frank coloring of Giovanni Bellini for a mysterious
+method which abolishes line, builds in mass, invests the picture with
+deep shadows that are marvellously warm and colorful. What
+contemporaries loved to call the Venetian fire originates with him about
+1505. Vasari may well be right in saying that he learned the method
+directly from Leonardo da Vinci, who was a fugitive in Venice in the
+year 1500. Only Leonardo never taught him that shadow is color. That was
+Giorgione’s own beautiful discovery, one immensely important for all
+decorative painting ever since.
+
+In his early phase, if I am right in thinking that Sir Martin Conway’s
+two stories of Paris, Figure 250, and the Ordeal of the Infant Moses and
+Judgment of Solomon in the Uffizi, are his, Giorgione was merely a
+graceful continuer of the slighter narrative mood of Giovanni Bellini
+and Carpaccio,—that is, distinctly a primitive artist. In his fully
+developed Arcadian vein he is neither a primitive nor fully of the
+Renaissance, but midway between, and his work constitutes not so much a
+pioneer effort as a delectable episode quite complete in itself.
+Unhappily we are almost without biographical details. Giorgione was born
+in 1478, in Castelfranco, a long day’s ride towards the Friulian Alps.
+The country abounds in streams, meadows, and immemorial trees—is a
+subalpine Arcadia. He came pretty young to Venice and worked with
+Giovanni Bellini. Legend tells us that he was big and handsome, amorous,
+and a musician. We know that he died of the plague of 1510, in his
+thirty-third year. The rest is conjecture from pictures some of which
+are his, and all of which are inspired by him.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 250. Giorgione. The Infant Paris found by Shepherds.—Sir Martin
+    Conway. _Maidstone, England._
+]
+
+These breathe a single mood, that of Arcadian revery. It is a world of
+desire indulged for its own sweetness, of day dreaming apart from will,
+action, and results. More blithely it had pre-existed in the Idyls of
+Theocritus; more pensively, in the Eclogues of Virgil. This world
+revives a far-away pastoral golden age, of lovers and their lasses, of
+nymphs and fauns, of vague ardors at once tempered and reinforced by a
+sympathetic nature. We are dealing with one of the oldest resources of
+poetry, and we can only understand this most beautiful visualization of
+the old theme by associating it with the tradition of literary
+pastoralism.
+
+Of course the Eclogues of Virgil were read generation by generation, if
+not very understandingly, through the Middle Ages. Still the more
+sensitive felt the appeal of mountain shadows lengthening over the
+evening meadows and the pathos of love-lorn shepherds sighing musically
+for hard-hearted shepherdesses. By the middle of the fourteenth century,
+the pastoral mode becomes once more contemporary, incidentally in the
+interludes of Bocaccio’s _Decameron_, explicitly in his idyl of
+alternate prose and verse, the _Ameto_. These are pale lights before the
+dawn. Pastoralism becomes widely current in the _Arcadia_ of Jacopo
+Sannazaro, the bulk of which was ready by 1489. It is the parent of
+those slow-moving, sentimental, and ever lengthy romances in verse and
+prose of which Sir Philip Sidney’s _Arcadia_ is the most familiar to the
+modern reader. Dante had once longed for a magic boat in which congenial
+souls should drift forever and do nothing but discourse of love.
+Transfer these discourses to a leafy nook beside a running stream, with
+the herds in view below the branches, and nymphs and satyrs overhearing
+the debate—and you have Sannazaro’s _Arcadia_. We have the eternal
+poetry and perhaps eternal fallacy of a bygone golden age where duty and
+effort are absent, where love and poesy reign.
+
+In his most famous song, _Alma beata_, Sannazaro, celebrating a dead
+beauty, makes heaven itself merely an Arcadia—
+
+         “Other mountains, other plains,
+         Other groves and streamlets
+         In heaven I see, and withal new blossoms.
+         Other fauns and sylvans, through sweet summer places,
+         Pursue their nymphs in happier loves than ours.”
+
+You find the mood clear cut in the Venetian nobleman and prelate, Pietro
+Bembo, both in his _Asolani_ and in the separate poems. These were being
+handed about in Giorgione’s time, from 1500 on. Thus Bembo sings of the
+shepherd’s life:
+
+           “Tryphon, who in place of ministrants and lackeys,
+           Loggias and marbles, woven gold and purple,
+           Lovest about thee willows leafy, cloister
+           Of joyous hillocks, plants and rivulets—
+           Well may the world admire thee.”
+
+Naturally the denizens of such paradises live and dress in a state of
+nature. The nymphs are lightly clothed and readily discard their slight
+draperies for the joys of the bath, which they considerately take within
+the range of their shepherd swains. Bembo warmly praises those
+“courteous garments” which do not too much hide the fair throat and
+bosom, and roundly curses more churlish concealing fashions.
+
+Sannazaro describes with a confusing mixture of metaphors what may be
+called a fortunate bath fall.
+
+        “Leading one day my herds beside a stream,
+        I saw a light amid those waters fair,
+        Which bound me fast straightway with two blond tresses,
+        And stamped a face all milk and roses
+        Forever on my heart.”
+
+Earlier painters than Giorgione[77] had essayed these pastoral themes.
+Botticelli, Signorelli; in a sardonic way, Piero di Cosimo; Giovanni
+Bellini and even Andrea Mantegna had variously attempted this sort of
+painted poesy. But the flavor of the Giorgionesque poesy is fuller and
+richer. His beauty is that of languor, revery, dream. Whatever the
+ostensible theme may be, his painting is Arcadian. His people have not
+merely no relation to our world, but slight and ambiguous relations to
+each other within the picture. They are isolated in their own musings,
+rarely look at each other, never suggest an action, but only a mood.
+Even the portraits suggest rather temperament than character or will.
+The proud youth, at Berlin, Figure 249, withdraws himself from purpose
+and deed. It is an early Giorgione. The Shepherd with a Flute, at
+Hampton Court, is bemused with his own fancy. It is of the later years.
+The fastidious patrician, at New York, reveals an almost worried and
+sickly detachment. If indeed a Giorgione, which I cannot doubt, it is of
+his latest manner.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 251. Giorgione. Fire Ordeal of Infant Moses.—_Uffizi._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 252. Giorgione. “Soldier and Gipsy.”—_Giovanelli Palace._
+]
+
+Take the little Carpaccian idyls at Florence which cannot be much later
+than 1500. How far we are from real narrative! In the Ordeal of Moses,
+Figure 251, a child is thrusting his tender fingers among live coals.
+Ladies and gentlemen stand languidly about and bask in the pleasantness
+of their own thoughts. There is a similar nonchalance in the Judgment of
+Solomon where a newborn babe is threatened with the sword. The horror is
+treated as a negligible incident of an _al fresco_ party.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 253. Giorgione. The Three Philosophers.—_Vienna._
+]
+
+Again what is the meaning of the mysterious idyl in Prince Giovanelli’s
+gallery? Figure 252. In view of the picturesque walls and moat of
+Castelfranco, a half nude mother, oblivious of a coming thunder shower,
+nurses her child. Equally oblivious of her and the weather, a
+fashionably dressed youth turns away. Ruins reflect the ominous
+lightning flashes. Old records call this (one of the few certain
+Giorgiones) The Soldier and the Gipsy—evidently a bad guess. A learned
+Viennese professor chooses to think that this is Prince Adrastus finding
+the forsaken Princess Hypsiphile. Nobody can prevent such conjectures or
+disprove them. It is safer to imagine that coming rain and thunder at
+Venice recalls some old memory of similar weather and state of mind at
+Castelfranco, evokes some old desire of which this richly fanciful
+masterpiece is the enigmatic symbol. Some story of loving and parting
+surely underlies the poesy, it would be foolish to be more specific than
+Giorgione himself has chosen to be. The Three Philosophers, at Vienna,
+Figure 253, again has been explained as Aeneas surveying the future site
+of Rome. What we actually have is a glowing nook at eventide in which
+three grave men of different ages go separately about some task
+requiring thought and mathematical calculation. And even this duty is
+yielding to the spell and mystery of the evening hour. These pictures
+are probably a little earlier than the altar-piece of 1504 at
+Castelfranco.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 254. Giorgione. Madonna with St. George and St.
+    Francis.—_Castelfranco._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 255. Giorgione. Landscape by Titian. Sleeping Venus.—_Dresden._
+]
+
+That lovely work, Figure 254, has much of the intimacy of Bellini’s
+altar-piece at S. Zaccaria, in formal arrangement it is rather
+monumental. The mood, however, is one of revery. St. Francis of Assisi
+makes his gesture only for himself, and St. George, exponent of the
+active life, broods moodily beneath his slackly held pennon. The
+Arcadian landscape quietly reinforces the idyllic feeling. Externally
+the thing is splendid in color, and as saturated with atmosphere as it
+is with mood.
+
+From now on the question of chronology becomes at once difficult, and,
+since we are dealing only with five years or so, relatively unimportant.
+The sleeping Venus at Dresden, Figure 255, may have been designed about
+1505. A Cupid slumbering at the Goddess’s feet has been painted out, and
+the landscape was finished by Titian. The noble sleeping body, to use a
+word of Lucretius which Montaigne commends, seems “poured out” on the
+receptive earth—so grandly and easily it lies. The gestures are
+unconscious caresses. The Goddess dreams of old joys. What faun or
+sylvan even would not respect that dream? Not with passion, then, though
+himself knowing all its sting, does Giorgione deal, but with ardors
+sublimated in memory. The marvellous lines of this Venus, as sweeping as
+the curves of hills or river currents, were imitated again and again,
+but neither Titian, Palma Vecchio, nor the rest ever recaptured the
+evasive poetry of their model.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 256. Giorgione. Judith.—_Petrograd._
+]
+
+In 1508, working with Titian, Giorgione finished certain frescoes for
+the outside of the German Warehouse. The remaining red blurs, and
+Zanetti’s fragmentary copies, tell us that the postures begin to have
+the breadth and conscious counterpoise of the advancing Renaissance, but
+that the mood is still that of languor. Very like one of these figures
+is the fascinating Judith, at Petrograd, Figure 256. After the horrors
+of the night, she stands dreamily. Her lovely left leg escapes from the
+courteous draperies, and the foot touches lightly the brow of the
+peaceful, severed head of Holophernes. The touch of the foot is almost
+careless, as if merely to assure herself that the portent is really
+true. Her head bends gently, her nerveless beautiful fingers barely feel
+her girdle or support her great sword. Behind her, morning forests and
+fields stretch towards a tranquil sea and sky. The gestures are those of
+one between sleeping and waking, irresolutely feeling for some basis in
+reality. We are in a realm where the most awful deeds and experiences
+count only as raw material for delicate imaginings.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 257. Giorgione. Pastoral Symphony.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+In the later works problems multiply, and a critic is pretty well
+reduced to personal intuitions. No doubt, however, should attach to the
+pathetic and nearly effaced Christ of St. Roch. The Christ is nobler
+than the earlier example at Fenway Court, the feeling more expansive.
+Still nobody, not even the executioner, seems to will the atrocity of
+the deed. The thing is not an act but a vision, pervaded by a dreamy
+tenderness.
+
+The completely repainted Pastoral Concert, Figure 257, at the Louvre is
+never the less fraught with Giorgione’s peculiar poetry. A courtly lover
+has struck a chord on the lute, and gazes intently, perhaps sadly, at a
+shepherd sitting close to him. A rustic, nude nymph whose back only is
+seen takes the pipe from her lips to listen. A proud beauty turns toward
+a fountain, light draperies slip away from her superb form, and with a
+graceful gesture of idleness she pours back into the fountain a tinkling
+jet from a crystal pitcher, while she bends to note the ripple and catch
+the pleasant, idle sound. This strange scene takes place on the edge of
+a vale that winds down to a glittering sea, affording a path to a
+shepherd and his flocks. The meaning? Modern criticism is loath to look
+beyond contrasts of nude and clothed forms, swing of tree-tops and of
+sky, subtle interplay of light and shade. My own reading is merely based
+on the contrast between the rustic and urban lovers, and an intuition
+that the courtier in peering so wistfully at the shepherd is merely
+seeing himself in a former guise. In lassitude, perhaps in satiety,
+beside a courtly mistress who is absent from him in spirit, there rises
+the vision of earlier simpler love and of a devoted shepherdess who once
+piped for him in the shade. The vision rises as his listless hand sweeps
+the lute strings in a chord unmarked by the far lovelier mistress at the
+fountain. The golden age of love, like Arcady itself, is ever in the
+past. Such may be the reading of this poesy. Indeed all Giorgione’s
+pictures are less facts than apparitions born of roving thought in
+idleness,—such stuff as dreams are made of.
+
+The famous Concert, Figure 258, of the Pitti since Morelli’s time has
+been generally classed as an early Titian, I think erroneously. The
+precise and powerful execution of the Monk’s head is certainly his, but
+I question if the motive itself lay within the scope of his lucid and
+uncomplicated imagination. An Augustinian monk holds the initial harmony
+on the clavichord and turns towards the ’cellist while the singer waits
+impassively. And this simple theme becomes a universal symbol for
+thwarted desire. The player asks a kind of sympathy which this world
+rarely affords, which certainly these companions cannot give. As in the
+Pastoral Symphony, the music awakens impossible longings, is the
+accompaniment of inadequacy. Titian was too robust ever to have imagined
+such a thing, and I feel we need only modify the old tradition to the
+extent of giving Titian a hand in an unfinished Giorgione to account for
+this poignant and most characteristic masterpiece.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 258. Giorgione _cum_ Titian. The Concert.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+There remains old and good tradition for crediting Giorgione with the
+design of the altar-piece in San Giovanni Crisostomo. The execution is
+unquestionably by Sebastiano del Piombo. If this view be correct,
+Giorgione attained the external features of the coming Renaissance
+style, missing its athleticism. Certainly the abstraction of the saint
+and the unmotivated appearance of the three virtues, and their unrelated
+gracefulness, is entirely in Giorgione’s manner, while the whole
+invention is alien to Sebastiano’s heavy and forthright talent.
+
+For the view I have tried to give of this poet picture-maker I may claim
+at least the merit of consistency. There is only one theme—languor of
+love and of remembered happiness; and there is only one setting—the
+Arcadia of the pastoral poets. Giorgione is the first painter who
+realized Leonardo’s definition of painting as “mute poetry,” yet not
+quite mute for there is generally a suggestion of music. And the music
+is less heard than contemplated, as is the case in one of his latest
+pictures, the Shepherd Boy, Figure 259, who hesitates to set the flute
+to his lips lest the melody fall short of that which the imagination has
+already heard.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 259. Giorgione. Shepherd with a Flute.—_Hampton Court._
+]
+
+For ten years after Giorgione’s death his mood dominated Titian with
+most of the rising artists. It seemed likely to replace the sturdy and
+objective art of Venice with a quite alien subjectivism. Meanwhile the
+normal effort of old Giovanni, Bellini and of young Titian continued.
+The Renaissance offered to the outer eye new dignities and splendors.
+The inner eye went bankrupt in the numerous imitators of Giorgione, in
+trivial symbolism and merely playful mythology. After her brief pause in
+Arcadia, Venice once more took account of her own proud charms. The
+nymphs paled before the comparison, Arcadia vanished. But it never was
+wholly forgotten, and, ever since, those who have craved actually to see
+the golden age of poesy have had to consult Giorgione of Castelfranco.
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER VII
+
+
+                 PRAISE OF MANTEGNA IN THE RENAISSANCE
+
+The immense authority of Mantegna kept his name on all honor lists of
+painters long after his death.
+
+Lorenzo of Pavia, writing in 1504 to Isabella d’Este, says of a Madonna
+by Giovanni Bellini:
+
+“The Painter has made a great effort to do himself honour, chiefly out
+of respect to M. Andrea Mantegna, and although it is true that in point
+of invention it cannot compare with the work of Messer Andrea, that most
+excellent master, I pray Your Excellency to take the picture, both for
+your own honour and also because of the merit of the work.”
+
+Julia Cartwright, _Isabella d’Este_, New York, 1903, Vol. I, p. 351.
+
+A little later Lorenzo writes:
+
+“And, as I have said before, in point of invention no one can rival
+Andrea Mantegna, who is indeed a most excellent painter, the foremost of
+our age. But Zuan Bellini excels in colouring.” l. c. 352.
+
+On Oct. 16, 1506, Lorenzo writes, on learning of Mantegna’s death:
+
+“I am much grieved to hear of the death of our Messer Andrea Mantegna.
+For indeed we have lost a most excellent man and a second Apelles, but I
+believe that the Lord God will employ him to make some beautiful work.
+As for me, I can never hope to see again a finer draughtsman and more
+original artist.”
+
+Isabella replied:
+
+“Lorenzo,—We were sure that you would grieve over the death of M. Andrea
+Mantegna, for, as you say, a great light has gone out.”
+
+                                                           l. c. I. 369.
+
+
+                       TITIAN’S VIEW OF MANTEGNA
+
+As late as 1519, Titian admired the Mantegnas at Mantua. Girolamo da
+Sestola, Isabella’s music master, writes to her:
+
+“M. Dosso and M. Tiziano, another good master who is making a fine
+picture here [The Bacchanal, at Madrid] for the Lord Duke, went to
+Mantua. He saw all Mantegna’s works, and praised them greatly to our
+signor, and he also praised your studies. But above all, he admired your
+_Tondo_ [the frescoed ceiling of the Camera degli Sposi, Fig. 219]
+exceedingly, and calls it the finest thing he has ever seen. Our Signor
+has one here, but Titian says yours is incomparably the finest.”
+
+                                                       l. c. II. 171, 2.
+
+
+                    ARIOSTO’S HONOR LIST OF PAINTERS
+
+Ariosto as late as 1515 still includes Mantegna and Giovanni Bellini
+among the best artists. The list is instructive as to the fallibility of
+contemporary judgments. The two Dossi and Sebastiano del Piombo today
+have lost their place in the roll.
+
+        “And those who were and still are in our days—
+        Leonardo, Andrea Mantegna, Giambellino,
+        The Dossis, he who chiselled and colored equally
+        Michel, more than mortal, Angel divine,
+        Sebastian, Raphael, Titian who honors
+        No more Cadore, than they Venice and Urbino.”
+                            _Orlando Furioso_, Canto XXXIII, 2.
+
+
+        LOMAZZO’S LIST OF GREAT PAINTERS AND THEIR KINDRED POETS
+
+  “Each painter has naturally had a genus more conformable to one poet
+  rather than another, and has followed that poet in his work, as it is
+  easy to see in the modern painters. For one sees that Leonardo has
+  expressed the movement and decorum of Homer, Polidoro the grandeur and
+  sweep of Virgil, Michelangelo the profound obscurity of Dante, Raphael
+  the pure majesty of Petrarch, Andrea Mantegna the keen judgment of
+  Sannazaro, Titian the variety of Ariosto, and Gaudenzio Ferrari the
+  devotion which one finds expressed in the books of the saints.”
+
+  Paolo Lomazzo, _Trattato dell’ Arte delle Pittura_, Milan, 1584, p.
+  283.
+
+  See also Castiglione’s list in Illustrations to Chapter VI, p. 313.
+
+
+           GIORGIONE—LEONARDO ON RURAL AND PASTORAL DELIGHTS
+
+  “What moves thee, O man, to quit thy city habitations and leave thy
+  friends and kin, and go in places wild by reason of mountains and
+  valleys, if not the natural beauty of the world, the which, if thou
+  well considerest, thou enjoyest only through the sense of sight? And
+  if the poet wishes to call himself also a painter in such matters, why
+  do you not take such sites as described by the poet and stay at home
+  without feeling the excessive heat of the sun? And would not this be
+  more useful and less wearisome since it is done in coolness and
+  without moving about and risk of illness?
+
+  “But the mind cannot enjoy the benefit of the eyes, windows of its
+  habitation, and cannot receive the varieties of delightful spots,
+  cannot see the shady valleys furrowed by the play of winding streams,
+  cannot see the various flowers which with their colors make a harmony
+  for the eye—and so with all the things which can be represented to
+  that eye.”
+
+  “But if the painter in the cold and harsh winter time sets before thee
+  those same places painted, and others, in which thou mayest have
+  experienced thy pleasures beside some fountain, thou canst see again
+  thyself as a lover, with thy loved one in blossoming meadows, under
+  the sweet shadow of verdurous trees—wilt thou not receive quite an
+  other pleasure than from hearing such an effect described by the
+  poet?”
+
+                                Leonardo, _Trattato_, Wien, 1882, p. 44.
+
+This is so fully in the mood of Giorgione’s idyllism that one likes to
+think that he may have talked over such themes with Leonardo when they
+met in Venice in 1500.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 260. Titian. Bacchus and Ariadne.—_London._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+                  VENETIAN PAINTING OF THE RENAISSANCE
+
+  Titian before 1545—Some contemporaries, Sebastiano del Piombo, Palma
+      Vecchio—The advent of Modern Sensitiveness in Lorenzo
+      Lotto—Moretto of Brescia—Correggio—Titian’s last Manner, its
+      subjectivism and impressionism—The Portraitist Moroni—Tintoretto
+      and the new dramatic emotionalism—Paolo Veronese, his spectacular
+      mastery and impressionism, his characteristic works—Eighteenth
+      Century Venetians: Tiepolo, Canaletto and Guardi—Longhi.
+
+
+The glory of Venetian painting is to an unusual degree that of a single
+individual, Titian[78] of Cadore. He lived nearly a hundred years, from
+1477 to 1576, and we can trace his painting for more than seventy years
+of serene and unbroken progress. He had great contemporaries—Sebastiano
+del Piombo, Palma Vecchio, Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese, Lorenzo Lotto,
+Moroni, Moretto of Brescia—but so various and comprehensive is his
+achievement that their work seems merely so many extensions of the paths
+first explored by him. In his noble and measured sensuousness, he seems
+nearer the Greeks than any other Italian painter.
+
+If he is something less than admirable as a character, it is because of
+an unpleasantly calculating side. He schemed ruthlessly for preferment
+and lucrative sinecures, had the repute of envying young artists of
+talent, flattered to the limit his Hapsburg patrons, bargained and
+begged concerning prices, let himself be puffed egregiously by his
+blackguard friend, Pietro Aretino, first and most formidable of yellow
+journalists. Yet this element of craft in the man was eminently
+Venetian. They schemed for splendor and pleasure, and measured even
+their indulgences. Thus we should not expect lyrical raptures or
+extremes of any sort in Titian. His art is one of judgment and
+moderation. Indeed that calculating spirit which makes him unamiable as
+a man was a source of strength to him as an artist. One of his pupils,
+Palma Giovine, has described his manner of working. First he laid in his
+pictures heavily in neutral tones. Then he turned them to the wall for
+months to dry. Then he would pass from one to the other, scrutinizing
+each “as if it were his worst enemy.” He would add color, amend drawing
+and composition, thus systematically carrying many pictures forward at a
+time, and subjecting each to repeated criticism and correction. He never
+painted a figure at one go, saying that “he who improvises his song
+never achieves learned verses or well turned.” Precisely the greatness
+of Titian lay in his capacity to put ardor into these prolonged critical
+processes. Thus if certain raptures are denied him, he is never below
+himself, but always as noble in sentiment as he is resplendent in color.
+
+Tiziano Vecellio was born at Cadore, in the Dolomites, in 1477.[79] Its
+shadowy oaks and blue alps live in his backgrounds. At eleven he was put
+with a mosaic worker, Zuccati, at Venice. He may have worked for a time
+with Gentile Bellini, but attained his real development in the studio of
+Giovanni Bellini, under the stimulus of his fellow pupil, Giorgione.
+This intimate and poetical phase of Titian’s genius lasts from before
+1505 to 1516 and the Assumption.
+
+His second period is that of fullest color and vitality. It runs from
+1517 to say 1536, Titian’s fortieth to fifty-ninth year, and the
+characteristic works are the monumental altar-pieces at Venice and the
+Mythologies painted for the Este family at Ferrara.
+
+The third period extends from about 1537 to 1548. It is marked by deeper
+resonances of color that is tending towards tone, and by a more
+objective and static ideal. Energy is no longer squandered, and intimate
+poetry is not sought. Typical works are those mythologies and portraits
+done for the Duke of Urbino, and the early Hapsburg portraits.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 261. Titian. Portrait so-called “Ariosto.”—_London._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 262. Titian. Portrait of a Youth.—_Temple Newsham, England._
+]
+
+The fourth period begins with 1548 or a little earlier, Titian’s
+seventieth year, and lasts nearly thirty years till his death. A looser
+and more synthetic construction, the substitution of broken shades and
+tone for frank color, a more tragic and ardent mood, a more energetic
+grandeur of composition, with lesser formality, are the marks of this
+amazing last phase, in which Titian becomes a precursor of Rembrandt and
+Velasquez. Since he now works chiefly for the Hapsburgs, the great
+examples are at Madrid and Vienna.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 263. Titian. The Tribute Money.—_Dresden._
+]
+
+The earliest Titians show the sultry shadows of Giorgione, and are
+distinguishable from his work only by a more linear quality, and by a
+greater explicitness of mood. Titian’s poetry is direct and rarely
+ambiguous. What ardors of flesh and spirit are suggested in his early
+portraits of men! The portrait of a bearded man in London, Figure 261,
+is conceived entirely in Giorgione’s fashion, as a short bust showing
+the hands, and the mysterious envelopment in warm shadow is Giorgione’s
+as is the sensitiveness of touch and characterization. But with all his
+gentle beauty, the man is formidable. His aloofness is no revery, but
+some preparation of will for action. Again Giorgione would hardly have
+labored to suggest the material splendor of the silvery satin sleeve.
+Even more perfect is the half-length of a young patrician at Temple
+Newsham, Figure 262, England. It is full of a reserved poetry, yet the
+effect is as well almost shrewd and diplomatic. This youth has the
+Venetian capacity for both passion and affairs. Both these portraits
+should be a little earlier than 1510. Such masterpieces of smouldering
+ardor as the Knight of Malta, erroneously ascribed to Giorgione and the
+Man with a Glove, at Paris, must be a little later. In concentration
+these are as fine as Giorgione’s portraits, but quite a different spirit
+transpires from the investing shadows. These men of Titian are no
+day-dreamers, but resolute and purposeful. They live little in memory
+and much in prospect. Their imagination implies action and possession.
+Even the drawing is more resolute. Study the eye sockets, temples, and
+cheek bones of these early Titians. Nowhere in Giorgione do you get such
+a sense of inner bony structure, of thicker and thinner cushions of
+flesh, of tenser or slacker skin. The method finds its most admirable
+expression in the two marvellous heads of the Tribute Money (1514–5), at
+Dresden, Figure 263. Yet how little mystery or pathos is invoked. With a
+gesture and an expression of exquisite consideration and breeding, the
+Saviour baffles the most eager and fanatical of inquisitors. Nothing
+could be more unlike the abstracted and almost morose Christs of
+Giorgione. As usual, Titian stands on the ground of the finest
+worldliness, as the Greeks had done. With the supernal, whether in
+heaven or Arcadia, he has little concern.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 264. Titian. The Three Ages.—_Bridgewater House, London._
+]
+
+In the early poesies Titian at once manifests his adoration of Giorgione
+and his own independence. In the Three Ages, Figure 264, at Bridgewater
+House we may grasp at its highest beauty his robust Arcadianism. In a
+meadow landscape an ardent nymph woos her bronzed swain. Complacently he
+accepts her unreserved advances. Nothing could be more explicit than the
+relation between the lovers, and with equal plainness an old man and
+sleeping child serve to teach us that youth and its sweetest ardors are
+but a brief pause between childhood and old age. Let us then seize the
+moments when nature and love are kind to us. Such is the forthright
+poetry of Titian. It is the poetry of every boy and every girl—simple,
+classic, unchangeable. Think of the overtones and personal
+interpretations with which Giorgione would have overlaid such a theme.
+Such twilight mysteries are alien to Titian’s fervent and lucid spirit.
+He loves the morning hour with work and love ahead, as Giorgione loves
+the veiling glamour and brooding memories of eventide.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 265. Titian. “Sacred and Profane Love.”—_Borghese, Rome._
+]
+
+The Three Ages was probably painted about 1512, the far more famous
+poesy, misnamed Sacred and Profane Love, Figure 265, is two or three
+years later. The sumptuous variety and richness of Titian are here at
+their height. Luminous marbles, pearly nude forms, lustrous stuffs, dark
+shimmer of foliage and sun-swept slopes of grass seem created merely to
+set off their respective beauties of hue and texture. Purples, azure,
+rose, saturated greens form a sonorous chord of colors which is so
+satisfying that one scarcely asks why a Cupid stirs the waters of a
+magic fountain, and why a splendidly clothed figure sits tranquilly at
+the side while a superb nude figure turns impulsively and holds aloft a
+burning lamp.
+
+Explanations of the fable abound. It is Venus persuading Helen to harken
+to Paris, or Medea to aid Jason. So the Germans. I am sure only that if
+we knew the meaning it would be quite as simple as these explanations.
+My friend, the late William P. Andrews, suggested that we have a lovely
+symbolism for the inquietude of maidenhood and the composure of
+matronhood—love in prospect and retrospect. The universality of the
+interpretation is in its favor. Titian’s mind worked socially and
+concretely. Plainly the nude figure is reminiscent of Giorgione’s
+listless beauty by the fountain in the Pastoral Concert, Figure 257.
+Titian’s maiden lacks something of the momentary grace and spontaneity
+of her model, but has in compensation a fuller grandeur.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 266. Titian. Flora.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+Perhaps the ideal portrait of Flora (1515–16), in the Pitti, Figure 266,
+should be reckoned with the poesies rather than with portraits. In
+material beauty few Titians excel it. The curded whites of the drapery
+vie with the flushed ivory of face and bosom. The sweetness of the
+impression is almost awe-inspiring. What a world it is that thrusts
+forth carelessly such beauty as this! Think of Giorgione’s quite similar
+Shepherd with the Pipe, Figure 259, and imagine again the twilight
+mystery with which he would have invested this apparition. Titian on the
+contrary thinks and feels like every man, but with an intensity and
+clearness quite his own. The lyrical and subjective note is incidental
+and superficial in him even when he most seems to resemble his lost
+comrade.
+
+Titian’s progress in composition is best noted in the religious pieces.
+From the first he seeks to break up the old inert symmetries. He invents
+active balances, brings the main thrusts to the sides of the pictures
+rather than to the centre. Thus even his Conversation Pieces gain
+implications of action and energy. In the altar-piece of St. Peter with
+Donors, at Antwerp, perhaps as early as 1502, and still somewhat in
+Bellini’s style, we find the enthroned figure moved to the side and the
+accessory figures arranged in a processional approach. The somewhat
+later altar-piece of St. Mark at the Salute, painted probably in 1504,
+Figure 267, again evades the old central symmetries. The Saint is
+enthroned off centre and his position gains great energy and novelty
+from its elevation and consequent foreshortening. The four plague saints
+keep the old symmetry, their types are partly from Bellini (the St.
+Sebastian), partly from nature. The structure in glowing shadow is that
+of Giorgione. We trace the same evasion of old symmetries and the same
+Giorgionesque fire in the Baptism of Christ, in the Capitoline at Rome,
+and Christ and Mary Magdalen, at London. Such pictures with their
+slightly conscious emphasis prepare the way for the more assured and
+sonorous harmonies of the great altar-backs of the ’20s.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 267. Titian. St. Mark with Plague Saints.—_Salute._
+]
+
+The Madonnas and Conversation pieces again show us most vividly how his
+taste is working. The Gipsy Madonna, Figure 268, at Vienna, painted
+about 1505, is highly Giorgionesque, but Giorgione never painted such
+sculptural forms, nor ever conceived so resolute a Christchild. Even the
+throwing of the outlet to one side reveals Titian. At Madrid and Vienna
+are superb half-length Madonnas arranged symmetrically after Bellini’s
+fashion, but with greater freedom of pose. Titian soon saw that the old
+compositional forms could not express the new energy. He makes repeated
+experiments, shifts the Madonna to one side, as in the unfinished
+Madonna with St. Anthony at Florence. He adds figures and rearranges
+them until the Conversation piece becomes an audience, with the saints
+and donors approaching the Madonna, as in an Adoration of the Magi. We
+find the completed form in the admirable Conversation piece, of about
+1510 with its two versions in the Louvre and at Vienna, Figure 269; and
+considerably later, a further development in those numerous full-length
+Holy Families in landscapes of which the Madonna of the Hare (1530),
+Figure 270, and The Marriage of St. Catherine, at London, are consummate
+types. And with all the conscious experimentalism of this work, the
+sense of character and of beauty is unperturbed. As compared with the
+contemporary Holy Families of Raphael, the accent is more individual and
+local. These superb Madonnas and gracious female saints with attendant
+martyrs and church doctors, are merely the lads and lasses of
+Carpaccio’s legends, grown up to manhood and womanhood, increased in
+dignity and sweetness.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 268. Titian. Gipsy Madonna.—_Vienna._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 269. Titian. Madonna with Saints.—_Vienna._
+]
+
+Until the death of Giovanni Bellini, in 1515, Titian seems a little
+hampered by his example as by that of Giorgione. Then, as if relieved of
+a restraint, Titian pursues his own aims. His design, in such great
+altar-backs as the Assumption and the Madonna of the Pesaro family,
+doubles its breadth and energy. His mythologies, in the bacchanals for
+the Alabaster Chamber of Alphonso d’Este, at Ferrara, are no longer
+pensive lyrics, but dithyrambs; primordial lyrics, for animation and
+power. The religious pictures, such as the noble Entombment in the
+Louvre, are no longer insistently pathetic. Subjective poetry is
+everywhere giving way to masculine assertion of the splendor of love,
+motherhood, comradeship. And these great objective commonplaces, which
+were the very staple in their day of Greek Epic and Sculpture, receive
+in Titian their finest modern embodiment. His new energy requires a
+changed color. All the hues are brighter and more resonant. Their
+harmonies no longer require the bond of deep shadow, but are positive
+and established at the middle of the color scale, where color is most
+itself. If the music of Giorgione was that of vibrating lute strings,
+that of Titian has the clarity and clangor of exquisitely harmonized
+woodwind and brass.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 270. Titian. Holy Family with Rabbit.—_London._
+]
+
+Before sounding this new music, Titian prudently secured the sinecure, a
+Commissionership of the Salt Taxes, which old Giovanni Bellini had
+enjoyed. While scheming for it, he was designing also the most famous of
+his great altar-pieces, the Assumption, Figure 271. It was finished in
+1518, set on the high altar of the Friar’s Church, whither it has lately
+returned. Titian adopts a form of composition which Fra Bartolommeo and
+Raphael had employed. The upper celestial tier is symmetrically
+arranged, almost in a domical way, the lower tier abounds in swinging
+turns and gestures, one carefully balancing the others. The forms are
+large and athletic, such as the Renaissance preferred, for greater
+gravity. Their weight is compensated by the ease with which they hold
+themselves and by the numerous floating and falling cherubs, playfully
+at home in their clouds, like so many celestial rose leaves for the
+crispness and lightness with which Titian’s brush has touched them in.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 271. Titian. The Assumption.—_S. M. dei Frari._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 272. Titian. Pesaro Madonna.—_Frari._
+]
+
+An over-spiritual observer might ask, Why are the Apostles so jubilant
+at losing their beloved Mistress? Only a little earlier, Giovanni
+Bellini, who painted the theme for San Pietro Martire at Murano,
+invested his witnesses with pathos, silence, wonder and awe. In
+comparison Titian is obvious, and barely reverent. He thinks of nothing
+but that this is Mary’s moment of highest glory, so of course her
+friends cheer boisterously as they wave her off heavenwards. Titian’s
+mind does not work in half tones of sensibility, yet he is honestly
+religious in his own way. The Lord’s people are good enough for him, and
+he likes them not in the hush of devotion but in the expansive moments
+of action. The attitude is operatic. Choruses have no business with
+overtones, all voices shall be _robusto_. What infallible taste he shows
+along these simple lines! There is no smallness, no mere floridness of
+utterance, no hint of over-emphasis. Such art is the despair of the
+modern artist. He cannot feel so simply. The great enduring commonplaces
+are denied to his more complicated genius.
+
+Perhaps Titian is even more himself in the Madonna of the Pesaro Family,
+Figure 272, which was in hand from 1519 to 1526. For animation he sets
+the throne of Mary to the right, and carries splendid columns back in
+depth. He gives to every gesture of saint or donor a balancing relation
+to the gracious curve of the body of the Queen of Heaven. He renews the
+Giorgionesque mystery in the portraits of children, adds picturesque
+accessories of armor, velvet, and silken banner. The picture is as rich
+as it is logical and monumental, as varied in character as it is unified
+in mood. It is only by chance that it stands almost over Titian’s tomb,
+and yet it would have been hard to find a picture that better represents
+both his more intimate and his more objective perfections. Even such
+masterpieces as the Madonna with six Saints in the Vatican (1523), and
+the lost Slaying of Saint Peter Martyr (before 1530), which enjoyed
+three centuries of praise, seem a little set and over-reasonable in
+comparison.
+
+Alphonso d’Este’s Alabaster Chamber at Ferrara represented the high
+point of mythological poesy for the Full Renaissance, as Castello with
+its Signorelli and Botticellis marked a similar culmination for the
+Early Renaissance. It is lamentable that we see these essential
+expressions of two great moments torn from their context and relegated
+to the promiscuity of museums. Yet the scattered poesies from the
+Alabaster Chamber remain a delight, at London, Madrid, and Philadelphia,
+and give us the truest impression of the pagan greatness of Titian in
+his maturity. For this series old Giovanni Bellini, in 1514, painted a
+sylvan Feast of the Gods, Figure 242. Titian, succeeding to the work,
+freely repainted the landscape, to harmonize it with his own poesies.
+Two years later Titian set up The Worship of Venus, now in the Prado.
+Before the white image of the goddess the shadowy lawn swarms with
+winged loves. They frolic, dally, pluck apples shaken down by their
+mates from the trees above. The strong little bodies glow delicately
+like the inside of a great shell. A rhythm of joyous life runs through
+the picture. In due course Rubens, Boucher and Fragonard will fill earth
+and air with tumbling Cupids like these, but will hardly recapture the
+spontaneous ecstasy of this scene. It is baffling to learn that its
+origins are academic—from the imaginary gallery of the Alexandrian
+philosopher, Philostratus. Again a two year interval, for Titian ever
+declined to be hurried, and, in 1520, the Bacchanal, or Bacchus among
+the Andrians, was ready. About the lolling figures of two clothed
+nymphs, the sleek brown bodies of nude sylvans bend in grand gestures as
+they pour the wine. At the left Bacchus in professional aloofness goes
+about the serious business of emptying a flagon. At the right is flung
+the relaxed body of a nymph overcome by sleep and wine. Her splendid
+nudity shines forth in competition with a soaring afternoon cloud, while
+behind her a lightly draped shepherd dances with his lass. The orgy is
+swept by the clean breeze and dappled with sunlight—purifying elements.
+We have not intoxication in the gross sense, but the Greek notion of an
+elemental Bacchic inspiration.
+
+The decoration was triumphantly completed in 1523 with the Bacchus and
+Ariadne, Figure 260, now in the National Gallery. The noisy train of the
+god of wine sweeps into the picture oblivious of the heroine. As the
+leopards swing the car along the strand, the God flings himself
+rapturously towards the form of startled Ariadne, who with a grand,
+hesitating gesture turns her head and body away while her legs and feet
+still bear her towards her wooer. The thing sparkles with wine-red and
+azure, tingles electrically with passion, gives forth a clamor which is
+also a harmony. Its exuberance is well contained in noble compositional
+forms. The passionate yet disciplined soul of Titian approaching fifty
+is fully expressed in this marvellous work.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 273. Titian. The Entombment.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Passing to the religious pictures once more, the Entombment, Figure 273,
+now in the Louvre, which was painted for the Gonzagas about 1525, is
+again a masterpiece of unaffected feeling and of finest disposition of
+masses. The central group looms against the sky with the grandeur of a
+great dome. Whoever has seen strong men caring for the dead or stricken
+will realize the reserve and nobility of acts which are expressions of
+sympathies too deep for words. I saw things like that at the Messina
+earthquake. Equally fine and restrained is the protective attitude of
+the Magdalen towards a Mary stark and mute with grief. Magnificent is
+the contrast of the grand nude forms of the dead Christ, with the rich
+stuffs in which the attendants are clothed. I imagine when Titian
+conceived this simple elegy with such power and pathos he may have had
+scornful reference to Raphael’s distorted and sensational version of the
+same theme, Figure 186. And perhaps the æsthetic lesson of the picture
+is that choice feeling is far more difficult of attainment than fine
+painting.
+
+In 1533, Titian, by command, met the Emperor Charles V at Augsburg, was
+promptly made a knight and later a count palatine. From now on he was
+much employed by the Emperor and his son Philip. With that relationship
+a change begins to come over his art. He becomes less exuberant, more
+official and objective. Titian at sixty has said almost every possible
+thing on his own account, and is content for a space to be observer and
+recorder of the stately world about him. We have descriptions of him at
+this time, maintaining a princely hospitality in his palace, and
+declining to share the dissipations which he willingly provided for such
+loose-living friends as Francesco Sansovino and Pietro Aretino.
+
+He strangely depoetizes himself. The change comes somewhere about 1536,
+and a notable evidence of it is in the portrait of a lady in peacock
+blue velvet, in the Pitti. Posterity has agreed to call her simply La
+Bella, and so impersonal a style well befits her impassive beauty.
+Materially Titian has never painted more exquisitely, but it has become
+a painting of surfaces. The appeal is vague, general, social, there are
+no personal intimations, merely a magnificent statement of entirely
+obvious perfections.
+
+Again Titian is content to be the mere painter in the so-called Venus of
+Urbino, Figure 274. It was painted about 1538, and is in the Uffizi.
+Evidently the sleeping Venus of Giorgione is in Titian’s mind, but what
+a loss in awaking her! Titian sees the gracious forms for what they are
+of nacreous light and rosy shadow, he sees the room for what it is in
+distribution of curtained interior and alcove space irradiated by
+morning light. He studies curiously the delicate nuances of bluer sheet
+and creamier skin, he models out the slender body with faintest
+investment of almost imperceptible shadow. In short, he is just a
+painter, but what a painter he is!
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 274. Titian. Venus of Urbino.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+About the same time he did the official portraits of Eleonora and
+Federigo Gonzaga. He treats them as grandees. They are imposing, almost
+pompous, every inch the prince and princess. He sees with a courtier’s
+eye, and gives to official portraiture that impersonal cast which it has
+since only too faithfully retained. He revives the great traditions of
+Venetian narrative painting. The great wall painting, in the Ducal
+Palace, of the Imperial Victory at Cadore has perished. Old copies and
+engravings tell us of its energy, picturesqueness and panoramic breadth.
+Fortunately the great mural canvas, finished in 1538 and representing
+Mary entering the Temple, is still in its place; for the old School of
+the Carità has become the Academy. In this picture Titian realizes all
+that the Veronese and Venetian painters from Altichiero down had sought
+for. Like his predecessors, he is chiefly spectacular, subordinating
+character, but he attains a monumental breadth which they never remotely
+glimpsed. The scheme is worked out in magnificent oblongs varied by
+triangular forms which repeat the motive of the steps. The chief
+narrative motives, the childish determination of the Virgin, the
+gracious expectancy of the high priest, the admiration of the women
+below, hold their own amazingly in the vast space. The surface sings
+with color. The painting was affixed to the wall in 1538, fully ten
+years before Paolo Veronese had made this sort of pageantry his special
+domain.
+
+Almost as dispassionate is the great canvas, depicting Christ before the
+People (1543), at Vienna. It becomes less an expression of the
+submission of Christ than an exaltation of the Imperial power that has
+him in charge and of the mob spirit that cries for his blood. The
+architectural surroundings are magnificent. There are wonderful details,
+as in the howling boy at the left and the white form of a girl caught in
+the throng. Her sudden apparition as an element of relief and mystery
+anticipates by nearly a century a similar device in Rembrandt’s Night
+Watch.
+
+Very characteristic in its patrician decorum is The Disciples at Emmaus,
+in the Louvre, Figure 275, which was painted about 1545. Here there is
+no intensity in the moment of surprise and revelation. Benignly the
+Christ breaks bread; reverently and without excitement the disciples
+give him his due worship. All the homeliness and surprise that are in
+St. Luke’s narrative, and that Rembrandt later emphasized, have been
+leveled out in the interest of discretion and nobility. The disciples
+show no more enthusiasm than a Venetian dignitary and prelate should.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 275. The Supper at Emmaus.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Two portraits which were both painted within the year 1545 show Titian
+at the parting of the ways. The Aretino, in the Pitti Palace, the even
+finer sketch being in the Frick Collection, New York, Figure 276,
+reveals the truculent and sensual man of letters in all his formidable
+massiveness. The satin and velvets in which he is clad are painted
+lightly but with fullest regard for their textures and material beauty.
+Titian liked Aretino and had profited by his bitter and venal pen. So
+without emphasizing Aretino’s effrontery and brutality Titian brings out
+his resolute intelligence.
+
+In the portraits of Paul III, Figure 277, especially in that scene where
+the decrepit Pope muses craftily between two smooth flatterers and
+traitors, his own kinsmen, the sinister air seems filled with contesting
+wills. A veil of atmosphere interposes itself before the figures. The
+touch is light, contrasts are evaded, materials count for very little,
+there is no copying of rich surfaces. Even the color is reduced to tones
+of gray merely warmed with reds or cooled with blues.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 276. Titian. Pietro Aretino.—_Frick Coll., N. Y._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 277. Titian. Paul III and his Nephews.—_Naples._
+]
+
+In its tremulous psychology, in its reticence, in its substitute of
+richly broken monochrome for a gamut of real color, this picture is a
+kind of negation of everything Titian had attained. His remaining thirty
+years were given to ideals which are no longer bounded by the Venetian
+lagoon, but are as broad perhaps and indeterminate as the modern
+imagination itself. Before exploring this mystery of Titian’s renovation
+of his art at seventy, and since his Venetian style has closed, we may
+do well to consider some of his contemporaries at Venice and in
+Lombardy.
+
+Sebastiano del Piombo[80] was born at Venice in 1487, and like most of
+his generation emulated the smouldering harmonies of Giorgione. He
+paints such admirable portraits as the so-called Fornarina, at Florence,
+which long passed for a Raphael. He soon passes from the lyrism of
+Giorgione to a dramatic mode quite his own. He was called to Rome, made
+keeper of the Papal Seal, became an executant of Michelangelo’s designs,
+and thus indulged a losing rivalry with Raphael. He commands a heavy
+dignity in his male portraits, and in his various pictures of the Dead
+Christ and Mary, attains a robust and telling pathos. Down to his death,
+in 1547, he maintained a tradition of Giorgionesque color in the alien
+air of Rome, and represented something of the gravity of the Venetian
+Renaissance in a city rapidly giving itself to sensationalism.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 278. Palma Vecchio. Adoration of the Shepherds.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+Palma Vecchio[81] is a more considerable figure. Born at Serinalta amid
+the Bergamesque hills, in 1480, we find him at Venice, by 1505 among the
+pupils of Giovanni Bellini. Like the rest, he is touched by Giogione’s
+poetry, but on the whole he merely intensifies and refines upon simpler
+methods. He follows Titian in the conversation piece, and does many
+Arcadian Holy Families which are beautifully lighted, radiantly colored
+and felt with a warmth and simplicity that just misses sentimentality.
+Among the best is the Adoration of the Shepherds, Figure 278, in the
+Louvre.
+
+With Titian, he loves women of generous build and he sets off their
+impressive charms by careful posing, employing all the new devices of
+counterpoise. One may see him at his grandest in the altar-piece of St.
+Barbara, Figure 279, painted after 1561. The saint is worthy to be the
+patroness of artillerymen. She holds her martyr’s palm like a field
+marshal’s baton, she is imperiously confident and yet gentle—a lovely
+Amazon of the Christian pantheon.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 279. Palma Vecchio.—_S.M. Formosa._
+]
+
+In the Arcadian nude Palma has delicacy and refinement of workmanship,
+but the mood is obvious. For him beauty is literally skin deep, and he
+gives himself to the impossible competition of paint with nature’s
+nacreous shades and ineffable carnations. But he so nearly succeeds that
+just as a painter of lovely surfaces no Venetian painter quite equalled
+him, not even Titian, and with this single talent Palma almost made
+himself a great portraitist. Indeed if painting surfaces were all of
+portraiture, he would be the greatest portraitist of the Renaissance.
+But his big, blond models lose condition in his hands. Charming as is
+such a group as the Three Graces at Dresden, or the dozen or more single
+portraits of men and women, they lack the last quality of distinction.
+He tries to gain it by adopting rather overtly the pathos and
+wistfulness of Giorgione, but it doesn’t suit his exquisitely groomed
+cavaliers nor yet their even more exquisitely groomed and most ample
+light o’loves. Indeed, despite a handful of superb portraits, Palma has
+ever the air rather of a consummate beauty doctor than that of a great
+artist. However that be, his influence was widespread throughout
+Northern Italy, and especially around his native Bergamo. He died in
+1528, leaving a Veronese pupil, Bonifazio, to complete his unfinished
+canvases and to carry on to the middle of the century his brilliant and
+gentle style. Within his narrow range Palma is admirable, never uneasy,
+never below himself. In his unperturbed Arcadianism and even in his
+harmless sentimentalism, in his delicacy and robustness, he seems more
+Venetian than the Venetians themselves.
+
+Composure is the very soul of the grand style whether in fifth century
+Athens or in sixteenth century Florence, Rome, or Venice. It accepts the
+human spectacle as worthy and thrilling, admires without misgivings the
+best things that come before its eye. That is why radicals hate the
+grand style—and rightly, for it is always aristocratic, caring rather
+little for the average man and much for that privileged remnant which
+lives in highest bodily efficiency and mental ease. The grand style is
+on the side of what Matthew Arnold called the barbaric virtues of
+wealth, health, and generous living. The moment the artist begins to
+question the social order, to be curious about the foibles and fates of
+individuals as such, the grand style is in peril. This delicate and
+inquisitive sensibility makes its appearance in Italy not long after the
+death of Raphael. You will find it in Pontormo, at Florence, in Lorenzo
+Lotto, in the Venetic region, in Moretto of Brescia, above all in
+Correggio, more assertively in Tintoretto, and latent in Titian’s last
+phase. It is a tremor on the sea of history that heralds a new dawn.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 280. Lorenzo Lotto. Adoration of the Shepherds.—_Brescia._
+]
+
+Lorenzo Lotto,[82] born at Treviso in 1480, first and most
+characteristically embodies the new intimacy. He worked widely through
+Lombardy and the Marches, enjoying a transitory vogue at Venice. Trained
+in the austere methods of Alvise Vivarini, he soon gave himself to his
+own native melancholy. One may see his qualities and defects in the
+great Enthroned Madonna, in San Bartolommeo at Bergamo. Mr. Berenson has
+well remarked that the saints are no longer demi-gods and objects of
+worship, but “pious souls in whose faces and gestures we discern the
+zeal, the fervor, the yearning, the reverie, or even the sentimental
+ecstacy peculiar to the several temperaments most frequently occurring
+among the children of Holy Mother Church.” Note too how the stately
+architecture derived from Giovanni Bellini and the crowded figure group
+mutually dwarf one another. Intimacy and monumentality do not live well
+together. This picture was finished in 1516, the year that Titian began
+the Assumption. Does not the contrast show Lotto an alien in his time
+and a harbinger of ours? In later pictures of less monumental
+pretensions,—as in a Nativity, Figure 280, at Brescia, which may
+profitably be contrasted with Palma’s more assured version,—he attains a
+penetrating beauty of a morbid kind, and his sensitiveness makes him a
+most appealing portraitist. He has left an extraordinary gallery of shy,
+inadequate, sometimes morose and invalid men, and women, Figure 281.
+They have not the confidence of the Renaissance, but hesitations like
+our own. Which shows perhaps that the Renaissance mood was ever urban
+and the affair of a minority of statesmen, merchants and humanists. In
+the little cities where there was no enlightened court the human spirit
+retained and betrayed its immemorial frailties and misgivings. Lotto
+died in 1556, having widely diffused his sensitive art through the Marca
+and Lombardy.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 281. Lorenzo Lotto. The Marriage Yoke.—_Madrid._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 282. Moretto of Brescia. Madonna with St. Nicholas.—_Brescia._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 283. Correggio. Detail of Ceiling.—_Convent of S. Paolo, Parma._
+]
+
+It is significantly the provincial painters and not the born Venetians
+who indulge these quite feminine refinements of sensibility. Such a one
+is Moretto of Brescia, born in 1498 and active until 1555. Although
+closely in touch with Palma and Titian, he avoids their positive color
+and dreams his pictures in delicate harmonies of silver and blue. There
+is a morning coolness about them which anticipates certain perfections
+of early Velasquez and even of the figure painting of Corot. He is a
+distinguished spirit but an anomaly in the age of Aretino. Milton would
+have understood him. In portraiture, as in the richly clad nobleman of
+the National Gallery, he forces the note of picturesqueness to
+restlessness. In such religious pictures as the Madonna in Glory,
+(1540), in San Giorgio Maggiore, at Verona, or in the Madonna with St.
+Nicholas, at Brescia, (1539), Figure 282, he shows an ecstatic lyrical
+feeling, and finds the free and florid compositional forms to express
+it. It has an informality which Titian would never have permitted
+himself at this moment.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 284. Correggio. St. Augustine. Fresco. Toschi’s Copy.—_Cathedral,
+    Parma._
+]
+
+Of course the greatest of those who in the name of sentiment undermined
+the grand style was Antonio Correggio,[83] a provincial painter, a
+disappointed and unsuccessful man, who lived out his less than fifty
+short years (1489?–1534) in or near Parma. His ideas he took from
+Mantegna, master of all Northern Italy, whose illusionism he carried a
+point further. He made in 1518 for the ceiling of the reception room of
+the Convent of San Paolo, Figure 283, a trellis through the verdurous
+ovals of which one sees pairs of nude boy geniuses at play. He paints
+away the domes of the Church of San Giovanni (1524) and of the Cathedral
+(1530), shows us Christ or His Mother soaring into the clouds with hosts
+of accompanying angels. He brings the clouds down through the painted
+wall and sets them before the pendentives. Church Doctors, Figure 284,
+or Evangelists ride their cloud-thrones easily in the company of the
+fairest nude angels of either sex. The painting fairly annuls the
+architecture. These decorative frescoes are so vital and so richly
+various that they demand admiration and disarm criticism. To walk among
+the demi-gods and goddesses that loll on the parapet painted about the
+Cathedral dome, Figure 285, is to have known the company of Homer’s
+immortals. The impression is over-powering and unforgettable. Cautious
+people have always resented such profusion and such unrestrained
+assertion of life and joy. At the time they called the dome, with its
+confusion of wriggling rosy legs of ascending angels, the “frog pond.”
+They cavilled at Correggio’s price and appealed to Titian, who knowing a
+miracle of fine workmanship, told them that if they turned the dome over
+and filled it with ducats, it would not be too much.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 285. Correggio. Detail of fresco decoration of Dome of the
+    Cathedral. After Toschi’s Copy.—_Parma._
+]
+
+It was Correggio’s distinction to fill an immense decoration with
+lyrical ecstacy. Michelangelo in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel had
+done as much in elegiac vein. Both set a destructive example to smaller
+men who followed. For two centuries after Correggio’s death in 1534 the
+clouds blew into churches, and rosy angelic apparitions cooled their
+nude charms in these clouds and dangled their delicate legs therefrom,
+and painters worked their will upon mere architecture, and the baroque
+style took possession of all Catholic Europe. At its best it is
+captivating even to an unwilling Protestant imagination, but it never
+regained the height of its beginnings in Correggio.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 286. Correggio. “The Day.”—_Parma._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 287. Correggio. Marriage of St. Catherine.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+In his religious pieces and mythologies, Correggio is respectful to the
+grand style. He had in one way or another taken account of his Titian,
+Raphael, and Michelangelo, and he builds his groups in their active
+symmetries. But such an allegiance to the decorous style is merely
+superficial, his affinities are with the following centuries and the
+devotees of sensibility. Even in a grandly composed picture like the
+Holy Family called The Day, Figure 286, the women are disquieting in
+their personal loveliness. There is no relation to the Parthenon
+marbles, as there always seems to be in Titian, no suggestion of a
+larger air. These Maries know love, and raptures and tears. In the
+somewhat earlier Marriage of St. Catherine, Figure 287, at Paris, the
+mood is simply one of great tenderness. In later pictures like the
+Madonna with St. George and the Holy Night, at Dresden, the excitement
+of all the figures becomes almost unpleasant. So, in the mythologies,
+Leda, or Danae, or Antiope, Figure 288, is not goddesslike but
+perturbingly feminine and desirable. A most delicate erotic appeal is in
+all this work. It is like Alexandrian sculpture. It is still noble, but
+less so than Titian or Raphael, less abstract and stylistic. The
+exquisite ambiguity of the mood is not quite compatible with the
+compositional formulas. One feels it is but a step and a legitimate one
+from Correggio to the rare, sentimental nudes of Gainsborough and Sir
+Joshua and Romney.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 288. Correggio. Jupiter and Antiope.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+In every phase Correggio’s work is distinguishable by the most beautiful
+handling of color and light and dark. Like Moretto and Lotto he prefers
+a blonder scale than the Venetian, and makes his surfaces so many
+miracles of ivory, silvery grays and straw yellows, invested with shadow
+tenuously modulated, yet of strongest modelling power. He cares nothing
+about textures or individually rich passages; it is the whole picture
+that counts. The brush sweeps lightly and swiftly, there is no loading
+of color, everywhere an exquisite economy and a subtlety that conceals
+itself. At all points, technically as well as psychologically, Correggio
+deals in overtones. And by that token he is not of the Renaissance, but
+is greater or smaller than it, as you may choose to decide. He is more
+our contemporary than he is Titian’s.
+
+Meanwhile Titian himself is passing into a subjective phase. In 1545 he
+was at Rome. Michelangelo, who offered him unusual courtesies, doubtless
+showed him the Sistine ceiling and the recently finished Last Judgment.
+Titian, as he writes himself, studied with humble amazement the
+“marvellous old stones” that the Roman soil was yielding up to the newly
+founded museums.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 289. Charles V. at Mühlberg.—_Madrid._
+]
+
+Even before the Roman trip, his style begins to show an old man’s
+restless vehemence. The titanic ceiling decorations for the Salute, of
+1543 and 1544, Abraham and Isaac, Cain and Abel, David and Goliath,
+display at once an almost sensational energy and a lesser regard for the
+superficial attractions of color. The rugged designs are hacked out in
+bold splotches of light and dark. The method begins to be luministic.
+The partial foreshortening of the figures to adjust them to being seen
+from below is the decorative compromise which prevails at Venice from
+Tintoretto to Tiepolo. The new point of view is easiest studied in
+Christ crowned with Thorns, in the Louvre. Titian passes swiftly through
+this overtly dramatic stage. The same year, 1548, that saw the Crowning
+with Thorns, saw also the equestrian portrait of Charles V, Conqueror,
+Figure 289, after the battle of Mühlberg. What is odd about the picture
+is the elimination of all military conventions—no battle reek, no
+stricken foes, no busy staff. Instead just the pale, inflexible,
+thoughtful face of a slight old man, physically frail but firmly seated
+on a cantering horse. There is no frank color except the purple scarf
+and the gold of armor and horse trappings. Everything is expressed in
+marvellous grays and browns which contain hints of all the colors. There
+is no linear drawing; edge melts into edge without abrupt contrasts. A
+twilight mystery, a veiled quality, adds immensely to the expression of
+melancholy and might. The mere spectacle of life has become relatively
+uninteresting to Titian. He rather meditates on those creative throes of
+the mind which underlie action. His conqueror is a thinker.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 290. Titian. The Rape of Europa.—_Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston._
+]
+
+In Titian’s own portrait, of 1550, at Berlin, the new method is more
+strongly announced. The form grows out of a silvery gloom by reason of
+hesitating flickers of light which yet have extraordinary modelling
+power. In character the work is remarkable. One senses smouldering under
+the weathered surfaces of this man of seventy-three the most formidable
+capacities for wrath and for passion.
+
+The nudes and mythologies of these final years, the various Danae’s and
+the Nymph and Faun at Vienna, the Calisto and Actæon at Bridgewater
+House, the Venus and Adonis at Madrid, all show a very different temper
+from the early poesies. There is no suggestion of meditative dalliance,
+no shy Arcadianism. These are mortals stung and lashed by desire. Love
+is not sweet on their lips but bitter and fateful. Even Europa, Figure
+290, at Fenway Court, the finest of these later poesies, seems to fill
+the sunlight sky and sea with a spasm of erotic expectancy. Passion
+becomes cosmic. Strange capacities for tenderness also appear. Compare
+the Deposition in the Prado, Figure 291, of 1559, with the masterpiece
+of forty years earlier, Figure 273, at the Louvre. The noble domelike
+arrangement persists, but within the compositional dome what a change!
+The body of the Christ is no longer grandly disposed. It crumples as it
+is turned into the tomb. The thing has the unexpectedness of fact. The
+canvas is soberly incandescent with half-lit faces which gleam through
+the deep grays and browns. Each light is a focus of compassion. Titian
+himself, impersonating St. Joseph of Arimathea, supports the Christ.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 291. Titian. The Entombment.—_Madrid._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 292. Titian. Education of Cupid.—_Borghese, Rome._
+]
+
+In one of the latest poesies, the Education of Cupid, Figure 292, at the
+Borghese, Rome, the new method may be studied. The forms are built up of
+little and apparently indeterminate touches of russets and grays that
+glow from within. The form builds itself out vibratingly. It is no
+longer as palpable to the hand as that of the early Titians, but it is
+more palpable to the eye and to the mind. Tone has driven out color;
+atmospheric envelopment has replaced minute description; the artist
+merely creates gradations of light which afford the illusion of bulk. It
+is what we call today, rather loosely, impressionism, or, more
+accurately, luminism. In the character of these goddesses we have no
+longer wistfulness, that ineffable adolescent quality of Titian’s early
+poesies, but women fully conscious of their power to give or take away.
+
+His later pictures, The Crowning with Thorns at Munich (1570) and the
+Pietà (1576) in the Venice Academy, are nobly tragic in mood. Titian
+faces the last great event not as a humanist, but as a humble believer
+sorrowing in the suffering of his Lord. Carried off by the plague in
+1576, Titian had lived nearly a century, for over seventy years had been
+a famous painter. In that long course there is no sign of failure of
+power. His dominant mood changes according to his age from the ardent
+pastoralism of his early maturity, through the dramatic energy of his
+middle age, and the impersonal splendor of his first old age. And when
+he had passed the scriptural term, he developed new depths of feeling,
+and created to contain them a pulsating realm of light and dark in
+twilight. He had begun with the cool preciseness of Giovanni Bellini and
+closed with a passionate mystery of expression which foretells
+Rembrandt. So far as Venice was concerned, he not merely led its
+Renaissance, but was its Renaissance, both in rise and decay. And it is
+noteworthy that while Raphael and Michelangelo end in ostentation of
+power and decline of feeling, Titian ends in deeper capacities whether
+for passion or sympathy, works away from the daylight realities of
+humanism towards new depths in natural appearance and new depths in his
+own soul.
+
+Around such a man a throng of able painters naturally grew up. The
+poorest imitated him, the better took hints from his marvellous practice
+and went their own way. Among these was Giambattista Moroni of Bergamo,
+born in 1520 and trained under Moretto of Brescia. Mediocre as a
+religious painter, he was a portraitist of acutest vision for character.
+A provincial, he cared little for the idealizations of the time. In such
+a portrait as the Tailor, at London, or the amazing old Abbess in the
+Metropolitan Museum, or the Husband and Wife, at Cleveland, or The
+Widower, at Dublin, Figure 293, he gives us the very look of people,
+even to their uneasiness as they submit to the ordeal of being
+portrayed, and withal their intelligence, diligence, and patience.
+Titian, when overdriven with portrait commissions, habitually referred
+his clients to Moroni, as an abler artist in the specialty. And indeed
+Moroni, while lacking Titian’s style, looked harder at his sitters than
+Titian ever did. He died in 1572, four years before his generous friend.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 293. G-B. Moroni. The Widower.—_Dublin._
+]
+
+The Bassanos, the father Jacopo and his sons Leandro and Francesco, were
+too popular to be omitted. Their style is pretty eclectic with something
+of late Titian and Tintoretto in it. They treat the old religious
+themes, are good portraitists, and carry out on their own initiative a
+bucolic sort of painting, with abundant horses, cattle and dogs. So
+homely a tradition has its place in breaking down the decorum of the
+grand style. The excellent average of the family in their craft may be
+judged from Leandro’s Pietà, at Cleveland.
+
+Sometimes over the velvety calm of Venice and the lagoon will roll up a
+thunder storm. The radiant color becomes more sombrely rich under the
+tossing clouds. Their steely edges break into the lightning flash; domes
+and towers for a moment stagger under the lashing of the rain squall.
+The storm passes, the leaden clouds show saffron backs against the blue,
+the evening is here with double serenity and purity. Such is Jacopo
+Tintoretto amid the reflective tranquility, and confident splendors of
+Venetian painting—a wind of the spirit, a shattering, yet consoling,
+apparition. Tenderness, tragedy, romance, are his realm. Where his
+contemporaries dealt in superb averages, he deals in transcendent
+exceptions. Thus he has ever been a baffling figure to the critics. For
+the febrile Ruskin, he is among the greatest of painters; for the coolly
+analytical Kenyon Cox, he is little better than a reckless
+sensationalist. Every one, friend or foe of his art, must admit its
+Shakespearean richness and variety. He lacks Titian’s Olympian poise,
+but is more universal.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 294. Tintoretto. Tithonus and Aurora. Tempera color
+    sketch.—_British Museum._
+]
+
+Jacopo Robusti,[84] the dyer’s son, was born in Venice in 1518. At
+seventeen he was put with Titian. Once passing through the studio Titian
+saw on the floor a number of Tintoretto’s sketches. Not trusting himself
+to speak, he sent word that the newcomer should never again enter his
+studio. An act which contemporary gossip ascribed to jealousy, is rather
+to be referred to disgust at Tintoretto’s unbridled vehemence. Whoever
+has studied Tintoretto’s tempera sketches, Figure 294, in the British
+Museum may realize how Titian felt. The sketches are superb, but Titian
+in 1535 was in no way to realize their value. Twenty years later he may
+have appreciated them.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 295. Tintoretto. Presentation of Virgin in the Temple.—_S. M.
+    dell’ Orto._
+]
+
+Driven out by the best master in Venice, Tintoretto was reduced to the
+process of self-education, in which he was aided by that brilliant
+decorative colorist and ever luckless artist, Andrea Schiavone.
+Tintoretto’s earliest work of note is the decoration of his own parish
+church of the Orto, which he undertook about the year 1546 for the
+costs. The gigantic canvases of the Deluge and Worship of the Golden
+Calf in the Choir made his fame, but we see his peculiar quality better
+in the Presentation in the Temple, Figure 295. It was finished only a
+few years after Titian’s masterpiece in the Scuola della Carità, hence
+the contrast between the two works on the same theme is enlightening.
+Titian’s picture is fundamentally a spectacle and a ceremony. Everything
+goes as arranged and expected. Tintoretto’s picture is a sudden and
+thrilling event full of unexpected graces. The little Virgin is well
+within the picture, but keeps her prominence through her position
+against the sky and even more by reason of the focusing of intense
+interest on her by all the persons in the composition. It is a charming
+invention that three mothers and their infant daughters on the steps
+should share in the glory of her consecration. At the left a prophetic
+figure suddenly grasps the import of the moment and sways with wide
+stretched arms towards the hope. From him to the head of the steps rises
+a pathetic line of cripples and beggars mercifully veiled in half light.
+These are witnesses to the human misery that the Virgin through her Son
+is to assuage. The unifying principle, apart from the fine linear
+design, is the light which floods out of the picture over the
+beautifully carved steps. Everything is conceived in depth, while
+Titian’s Presentation is relatively on one plane. Golden browns and
+yellows of great luminosity are prevailing colors, the crimsons and
+blues serving merely as relief and accent. With all its richness of
+illustrative content, the thing is a noble decoration.
+
+A little later, perhaps in 1548, Tintoretto did the first of three
+canvases for the Scuola Grande di San Marco. It represents the moment
+when a Christian slave is about to be brained. The liberating figure of
+St. Mark, Figure 296, swoops down, the maul snaps in the executioner’s
+hand. With a singular delicacy the entire interest of the bystanders is
+concentrated on the helpless white body of the martyr. The suspense is
+breathless. Only the old magistrate high at the right has seen the
+miraculous breaking of the executioner’s sledge. His gesture carries the
+eye to the figure of the downward swooping saint, thus the most
+sensational feature is last seen and comes as a climax. Such dramatic
+modulations are of the very essence of Tintoretto’s genius. Again,
+though the sweeping curves of the linear design are splendidly balanced,
+the light is the ultimate harmonizer. It ripples out in an increasing
+wave towards the spectator, kindling as it goes the colors of rich
+stuffs and the bronzed or pearly roundings of brows, shoulders, throats
+and limbs. The carrying of a uniform rhythm of motion through earth and
+sky is again Tintoretto’s invention. He uses it here as elsewhere not as
+a sprightly device—which was later the baroque attitude—but as a
+necessary factor in emotional expression.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 296. Tintoretto. Miracle of the Slave.—_Venice._
+]
+
+In 1561 Tintoretto finished the great Marriage at Cana for the Salute.
+The picture is tremendously developed in depth, and the Christ is set in
+the distance. The foreground figures alone are concerned with the
+miracle. Very effective is the contrast of the quiet feasters with those
+who are stirred by the marvel. The lighting is consummately fine. There
+are passages of extreme loveliness, such as the swaying row of women’s
+faces on the right of the table, but the whole thing is far from clear;
+illustrative and decorative features are imperfectly harmonized. In this
+great scale Tintoretto’s richness and insatiate inventiveness tend to
+work against him.
+
+Before considering his colossal labor in the School of St. Roch, we
+should note his avowed ideal. It might be read on the walls of his
+studio: “The Drawing of Michelangelo and the Coloring of Titian.” In the
+studio were casts of Michelangelo’s sculptures brought up at great
+expense from Florence and Rome. And to Michelangelo we owe the slender
+and alert proportions of Tintoretto’s figures, quite different as they
+are from the gravity, almost ponderosity of Titian, Palma, and Paolo
+Veronese. The color is based on late Titian, but is more sonorous,
+simple, and uncomplicated by minor tones. The brush stroke is unlike
+anything earlier—sketchy, impetuous, definitive, working by first
+intention. Accordingly the surfaces are much broken, and, to a near
+view, lack preciousness. We have neither the fluent enamel of Giorgione
+and early Titian, nor yet the muffled richness of Titian’s later manner.
+But in the best Tintorettos the touch is infallibly crisp, right and
+expressive. To exaggerate these generously avowed influences of the
+master who repudiated him and the master he never saw would be easy. As
+a matter of fact, Tintoretto is always more the illustrator than either
+of his models. If he adopts the grand poses of Michelangelo, he does so
+not for abstract beauty, but ever seeks a motive for them. If he chooses
+Michelangelo’s slender, athletic proportions, he invests them with
+tenderness and enthusiasm. Unlike Titian, he avoids both classical
+draperies and rich contemporary costumes, choosing compromise forms of
+dress which, without ceasing to be classical, should seem familiar, and
+fit for a real world. If he adopts Titian’s coruscating light, he gives
+it a special poetry. It does not glow evenly through the picture, but
+flashes intermittently, as an accent or accompaniment to emotion.
+
+In 1560 the famous charitable confraternity of St. Roch determined to
+decorate their beautiful School. They called Federico Zuccaro, and
+Francesco Salviati, who had Roman honors, Tintoretto, and his friends,
+Schiavone and Paolo Veronese. The subject in competition was to be a
+cartoon of St. Roch in glory for the ceiling of the refectory. When the
+day came, Tintoretto unveiled not a cartoon but the finished oval. That
+was his drawing, he said; he hoped they would not be offended, but he
+knew no other way. The misunderstandings due to this summary procedure
+were soon cleared up. Tintoretto became titular painter to the School,
+later a member, and worked at the two great halls and ante-rooms for
+twenty-eight years.
+
+St. Roch was the Physician Saint who cared for the plague stricken. Thus
+the upper hall was pictured with examples of miraculous mercy and
+deliverance chosen from the Old Testament. The lower hall was devoted to
+the more familiar stories of the life of Christ and of His Mother. Sadly
+darkened and neglected, often in impossible light, these pictures baffle
+all but the enthusiast. One needs all the vicarious enthusiasm that may
+be drawn from a Ruskin to do San Rocco with any thoroughness. Whoever
+persists will be rewarded, for while Tintoretto is by no means at his
+greatest as a painter in this work, it reveals his inexhaustible
+inventiveness, his warmth and tenderness, and power, as no other series
+does, whereas it has in the little moonlit landscapes with St. Mary
+Magdalen and St. Mary of Egypt faery refinements elsewhere lacking in
+the master.
+
+Everybody knows at least the great Calvary, with its sense of cosmic
+disaster. Marvellous is the storm which sweeps towards the cross from
+behind, superb alike the cluster of faithful friends at the foot of the
+cross and the proud riders at the flanks. Hate, love and indifference
+mingle in the scene. It gets its profound tragedy on terms of fact, is
+free from all mystical sentimentality. What was it like on that awful
+evening? is the only question the artist asks himself, and his answer, a
+sheer gift of the imagination, transcends all the lyrical sweetness and
+measured solemnity of the ritual crucifixions. Humanism and religion
+unite for once in this masterpiece.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 297. Tintoretto. Christ Tempted by Satan.—_Scuola di S. Rocco._
+]
+
+Among the scores of narratives in the two halls the eye will rest upon
+Moses Smiting the Rock, for its majesty; upon the meeting of Mary and
+Elizabeth which has the intensity of Giotto’s fresco at neighboring
+Padua, with an abandon all its own; upon the Flight into Egypt, with its
+idyllic landscape; upon the awful tumult and despair of the Massacre of
+the Innocents; upon the pathos of the white-robed Christ, awaiting his
+doom from an indifferent proconsul. These occur among many that are
+equally memorable. Perhaps the subtle humanism of Tintoretto is best
+shown in the Temptation of Christ, Figure 297. Instead of the ignoble
+bat-like Satan of the mediæval painters, we have a magnificent
+starry-eyed youth, a veritable genius of the pride of life. With
+outstretched, generous arms he offers unstinted power and pleasure. The
+Christ regards him with tranquil kindness, as one might a splendid
+animal fawning too eagerly. For so Christian a man as Tintoretto, it
+implies extraordinary sympathy to imagine a Satan in his own way
+gloriously sure of his case. In these compositions the method is most
+various. But where there are many figures Tintoretto generally avoids
+the convention of placing the chief personages on the picture plane. You
+look over heads or between bodies to glimpse the Saints or the Blessed
+Virgin or Christ. And curiously this procedure does not confuse the eye.
+On the contrary these apparently casual but really most thoughtful
+arrangements heighten the sense of reality; one feels like a witness,
+like one himself on the edges of the throng.
+
+Along with the decoration of San Rocco, Tintoretto undertook frequent
+commissions for the Ducal Palace. But the fire of 1577 consumed his
+picture of the naval victory at Lepanto, with much else. In the
+mythologies of the Anticollegio painted in 1578 we have the loveliest
+poesies of the Venetian school. These are the Marriage of Bacchus and
+Ariadne, Mercury and the Graces, Minerva expelling Mars and the Forge of
+Vulcan. From the point of view both of decoration and sentiment these
+are perhaps the finest nudes in painting. They glow with outdoor health,
+the firm wholesome bodies sway from sheer joy in motion, or hover
+lightly in the limpid air. The noble forms are fixed for us in
+transparent shadows, and broad dapplings of light. There is little of
+the sheer dreaminess of Giorgione, who yet counts for something in the
+work, nor yet of the explicit sensuousness of Titian. These noble
+creatures go about our business,—marrying, seeking grace in life,
+composing strife, providing munitions should strife arise. Miss
+Phillipps is probably right in divining here an allegory of the
+greatness of Venice, bride of the Adriatic, protected by her diplomacy,
+admired for her arts, yet ever ready in her arsenals. What is better
+worth noting is the combination of breadth and delicacy in the finest of
+these poesies, The Marriage of Bacchus and Ariadne, Figure 298. The
+interlocking of the superb forms in a flowing rhythm or pattern, the
+technical miracle of Venus’s easy turn in the air as she offers the ring
+and the starry crown, the exquisite alternations of light and half light
+others might conceivably have invented. What is proper to Tintoretto and
+to him alone is the hesitating hand of Ariadne and her almost resigned
+and reluctant acceptance of a new love, being mindful of love once
+betrayed. Also the delicacy of Bacchus’s ardent gesture, as knowing
+himself to be not only wooer but consoler, is purest Tintoretto. The
+picture with its companion pieces is the effulgent afterglow of the
+Arcadianism that began with Giorgione. It breathes a charm that has
+never since been fully recoverable.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 298. Tintoretto. Bacchus and Ariadne.—_Ducal Palace._
+]
+
+While these poesies were in progress, about 1575, Tintoretto painted for
+the Church of San Cassiano the most original of his Crucifixions, Figure
+299. One looks over the narrow top of Golgotha to a peaceful expanse of
+marbled evening sky. The heads and serried pikes of the Roman
+legionaries suggest a throng behind the hill. The sharpest note of color
+is a banner, and the purple robe just stripped from the Christ. Between
+John and Mary and the executioners on the ladder and against the sky the
+strangest episode passes. It is the moment when a Pharisee hands up to
+the executioner the mocking placard “Jesus of Nazareth King of the
+Jews.” With a sudden impulse John points out the act to Mary, to console
+her. Christ’s enemies affirm the truth of him. Even in the hour of
+defeat and death he is eternally his people’s king. The level light
+which ripples softly over the nude forms of Christ and the thieves takes
+away all harshness. At San Rocco Tintoretto presented an epic and cosmic
+terror. Here he suggests all the intimate and lyrical hopes that have
+grown out of the sacrifice on Calvary.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 299. Tintoretto. Calvary.—_S. Cassiano._
+]
+
+Like all the Venetians Tintoretto was an admirable portraitist. His
+sober and powerful vein is well shown in the Madonna with Three
+Magistrates, Figure 300.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 300. Tintoretto. Madonna with Three Magistrates.—_Venice._
+]
+
+Among the later altar-pieces none is finer than the Miracle of St. Agnes
+in the Orto. It has all of Tintoretto’s sweetness, power and suddenness,
+and is nearly in its original condition of color. In 1587, being nearly
+seventy years old, he got the commission for his greatest and perhaps
+his last picture, the Paradise, in the Hall of the Great Council in the
+Ducal Palace. Darkened and dried, it is still to the perceptive observer
+a billowing sea of rapturous faces of the blest, obeying in its widening
+circles of cloud-borne angels an oceanic rhythm. During the three years
+that Tintoretto was painting it, his young daughter and comrade,
+Marietta, dressed like a Shakespearean page for greater convenience,
+worked and chattered beside him on the scaffolding. She hardly lived to
+see the great canvas set on its wall. Tintoretto lived on till 1594, and
+then his aged and withered body was carried across the canal from his
+palace to his vault in the Orto. Such friends as Schiavone and Paolo
+Veronese had gone before him, the old merrymakings and impromptu
+concerts in his home had ceased. It was a very tired old man who bid his
+sons continue the honorable trade of painting. He had shared nobly the
+greatest range of human emotions, and his last artistic vision was of an
+ecstatic peace in Paradise.
+
+After Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese[85] seems an anti-climax. His
+imagination is very limited. His greatest pictures treat the sole theme
+of stately feasts. His soul is that of a very high class society editor.
+But no well-advised person looks to Paolo Veronese for soul. One rather
+seeks in him judgment and fine painting. Both are at their maximum.
+
+Paolo Caliari was born at Verona in 1528, trained by a half primitive
+master, Antonio Badile, and influenced by the energetic compositions of
+Brusasorci. Paolo inherited the long Veronese tradition for spectacular
+narrative painting with splendid architectural accessories, and he
+carries the local tradition to its close and height. He came to Venice
+at twenty-seven, a finished and famous artist, bringing with him a novel
+sort of color. He avoids the contrasts and keen resonances of the true
+Venetians, painting rather in luminous half tones based on gray and
+blue. His forms are rich and solid without heavy shadow, and his
+canvases have the generally blond and uniform color quality of the
+modern out-of-door school.
+
+His preference is for feasts and pageants. We have the spectacle of a
+rich and gentle society, dignified in its pleasures and resplendent in
+its costume. Gold brocade sets off the pearly skins of the portly and
+gracious ladies in his pictures, and their cavaliers are as
+magnificently clad in satins, velvets and furs. The feasts are generally
+half out of doors in great colonnades, with the light glinting
+impartially upon fair throats and faces and upon channeled columns and
+sculptured balustrades. Behind, pale cornices and spires swim against a
+blue sky.
+
+It was the habit of the wealthy chapters of monks who maintained the
+great Venetian churches to paint in their refectories some Scriptural
+feast, as a warrant perhaps for their own daily convivialities. Earlier,
+the most solemn of all meals, The Last Supper, would have been chosen.
+Not so with Veronese and his contemporaries. They chose instead the
+Marriage at Cana or the Feast in the House of Simon or of Levi, Figure
+301,—splendid events of small or only incidental religious significance,
+and treated merely as contemporary banquets.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 301. Paolo Veronese. Feast in Levi’s House.—_Venice._
+]
+
+Of the four great feasts painted by Paolo Veronese the Marriage at Cana,
+in the Louvre, painted in 1563, is earliest, and most imposing. It
+builds up indefinitely from the marble pavement, with tier upon tier of
+people, clinging to columns and peering from balconies. One may count no
+less than two hundred and fifty heads. It has all the stir of a public
+banquet and everywhere the greatest richness of table accessories and
+costumes. The theme called for little religious emotion. The miracle
+itself is a convivial one. Yet Veronese has made this different from
+other feasts by a most complicated system of guiding lines which always
+lead the eye to the gentle face of the Christ in the centre. He fairly
+dominates all this animation and splendor. In the trio of musicians in
+the foreground Veronese has given us a precious hint of the part music
+played in the life of all Venetian artists. Paolo himself plays the
+viola, Tintoretto the ’cello, and Titian the bass. What is remarkable
+about the great canvas is its unity. Bathed in equable cool light, the
+eye takes it in at a glance; there is no confusing or distracting
+emphasis; the whole thing is nobly tranquillizing.
+
+In 1569 Veronese was in Rome. We may possibly see some slight influence
+of Michelangelo in the frescoes of the Villa Barbaro, at Maser. These
+contain the only nudes of Veronese that have a real athleticism, and the
+whole decoration has a more positive and sprightly spirit than is usual
+in Veronese’s placid style. Working in a country house for liberal and
+congenial patrons, Daniele Barbaro was himself an architect of merit,
+Veronese sheds something of that professional dignity which is sometimes
+excessive in his official work.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 302. Paolo Veronese. Marriage of St. Catherine.—_Santa Caterina._
+]
+
+Among his numerous altar-pieces, the Marriage of St. Catherine, Figure
+302, in the Venetian Church of that name is perhaps the most gracious.
+The women are adorable—hothouse flowers, incredible for poise, hue and
+delicate surface bloom. They are not very personal, their charm is a
+social one. But they are very gentle, reasonably unconscious of their
+own beauty, and quite unforgettably lovely. It took a wonderful eye to
+see them at once so simple and so regal.
+
+In the last twelve years of his life, Veronese was constantly employed
+in the Ducal Palace and the adjoining public buildings. He employed
+assistants freely, and the work affords difficult critical problems. The
+work is uneven. In mythology he belies the hopes based on the frescoes
+at Maser, where it seemed as if he too might attain the Olympian mood.
+It is sadly lacking in the hoydenish group that enacts Europa and the
+Bull, Figure 303, in the Ducal Palace. Why are these heavy Venetian
+lasses risking their skins and skirts and shins near the seaside and a
+bull? The flat prose of the feeling, or rather the absence of any real
+feeling, makes one forget the splendor of the painting. Such also is the
+effect of the superbly painted Venus and Mars, at New York, and of most
+of the mythologies. We have to do with sheer prose and not very sincere
+prose at that.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 303. Paolo Veronese. Rape of Europa.—_Ducal Palace._
+]
+
+When, however, the theme can be drawn from everyday Venice, Veronese is
+overpoweringly fine. Again and again in looking at the ceilings of the
+Ducal Palace one catches his breath before such visions of magnificence
+as Venice as Justice, Figure 304, Venice as Queen of the World. For all
+its contemporary quality, it attains a strange other-worldliness. It is
+as if some one had looked at superb Venice through a magnifying glass
+that ennobled the forms and greatly enhanced the colors. You feel how
+Veronese loved it all and how little he cared for anything beyond the
+splendor, dignity and prosperity of his adoptive city. He gives us the
+look of Venice at her climax of Renaissance glory, as Carpaccio had
+given the dying radiance of her mediæval estate. From the point of view
+of judgment, style and fine craftsmanship, it is impossible to
+overpraise Veronese. He should be regarded rather as a great painter in
+the narrower sense than a supreme artist. When he died in 1588, only
+fifty years old, he left a very enduring inheritance.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 304. Paolo Veronese. Venice attended by Force and Justice.
+    Ceiling Panel.—_Ducal Palace._
+]
+
+It was on the whole his moderate and judicious sumptuousness that
+inspired the painters of the next century. It was well that they sought
+his imitable merits and not the passion of Titian and Tintoretto. It was
+largely thanks to Veronese that Venetian art suffered no such sharp
+decline as befell that of Florence and Rome. The decorative tradition of
+Veronese sufficed to nourish a Piazetta and a Tiepolo a century and a
+half after his death.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 305. G-B. Tiepolo. Time revealing Truth.—_Villa Biron, Vicenza._
+]
+
+For Giovanni Battista Tiepolo[86] (1695–1770) in sheer force and
+fertility yields to none of his Renaissance predecessors. There never
+was a more valiant draughtsman or a more splendid colorist. Such
+decorations as those of the Scuola del Carmine, and the Labia Palace
+fall little behind Veronese’s pageantry in grandeur while representing
+an audacity of stroke and coloration which Veronese lacked. So the
+tragic scenes of Christ’s Passion at San Luigi have the intensity of
+Tintoretto if lacking something of his nobility. In the ceiling
+decorations of Tiepolo, Figure 305, we see the freest fancies of the
+Baroque, its customary tumult of shimmering clouds and hovering pearly
+figures, repeated with a lightness and audacity and withal measure which
+the Baroque itself never attained save in its great initiator Correggio.
+Such powers as Tiepolo’s soon won him international patronage. He
+painted in Austria and died at Madrid. With him perishes the grandeur of
+the Venetian school. Only a tinge of masquerade and exhibitionism puts
+him lower than his constant exemplar, Paolo Veronese.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 306. Antonio Canale. Island of San Michele.—_Royal Collections,
+    Windsor._
+]
+
+Indeed the simplicity which is the most enduring charm of any art is
+more felt in the minor Venetians of Tiepolo’s time, as in Antonio
+Canale, called Canaletto, Figure 306, who painted the irradiated
+panorama of the Venetian lagoon and canals with the ardent precision of
+a reborn Gentile Bellini. Francesco Guardi[87] (1712–1765), Canaletto’s
+pupil, with a freer brush and fancy paints the spectacle of Venice,
+Figure 307, its balls and promenades and water pageants, with the
+sensitiveness of a Carpaccio. But Carpaccio’s youthful world is no
+longer there to paint. Romance has given way to casual amorous intrigue,
+sentiment to show. But out of the welter of sophisticated gayety still
+rise clean against the heavens the pale domes and bell towers of an
+older and finer Venice. Guardi is perhaps at his best in the numerous
+tiny oil sketches which deal with the remote and solitary groves and
+ruins of the lagoon. Here we have felicities of broken color and
+niceties of observation, accurate notations of evanescent effects of
+light, which can still give lessons to the most modern landscapists.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 307. Francesco Guardi. Scuola di San Marco. Pen and Wash
+    Drawing.—_Lamperti Coll., Milan._
+]
+
+In Pietro Longhi (1702–1762) Venice developed a sympathetic chronicler
+of her social pleasures, Figure 308. The world of his delicate and witty
+little canvases is that of the card party, the formal call, the vanity
+and ceremony of philandering, the shop, the musicale, the masked ball.
+Only Holland has given so true and sympathetic a record of her smaller
+affairs, and at the moment, only Hogarth in England and Chardin in
+France were doing the thing with equal ability.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 308. Pietro Longhi. Maskers at the Zoo.—_London._
+]
+
+Nothing better shows the slightly anachronistic quality of Tiepolo’s
+grandeur than a fine Longhi. The Venetian imagination had moved indoors,
+so to speak, had foregone in favor of individual gratifications the old
+vision of the collective splendor. Venice no longer dines grandly in the
+open with Veronese, she coquettishly sips coffee with Longhi. If she had
+declined in nobility, she had at least kept her sincerity and taste. Her
+affair had ever been rather with appearances than with ideals or
+interpretations. But since the Greeks no other nation had considered
+appearances with such noble candor. She kept to the end the good
+pictorial habit of letting appearances explain themselves. Thus if a
+Titian will stand beside a Pheidian marble, so will a Tiepolo beside an
+Alexandrian masterpiece, while a trim belle of Pietro Longhi need feel
+no confusion before a Tanagra figurine. Time passes gently over a city
+whose artistic aims are as limited as her taste is sure. Venice had ever
+been gracious in her grandeur, and gracious she remained even after she
+had ceased to be grand.
+
+
+                     ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+     TITIAN’S ASSUMPTION THE BEGINNING OF THE VENETIAN GRAND STYLE
+
+Titian’s contemporaries were fully aware that the Assumption (1518)
+marked the beginning of the Grand Style at Venice and that the change
+was revolutionary. The critic Lodovico Dolce writes in his _Dialogo
+della Pittura_, Florence, 1735, p. 286 f. putting the words into the
+mouth of Aretino:
+
+  “After not much time [after the Fondaco frescoes, 1508] he was given
+  to paint a great panel for the high altar of the Friars Minor; where
+  Titian, still young, painted in oils the Virgin, who rises to heaven
+  among many angels who accompany her, and above her he figured a God
+  Father flanked by two angels. It seems really as if she rises with a
+  face full of humility, and her robes fly lightly. At the bottom are
+  the disciples who with various attitudes manifest joy and amazement,
+  and are mostly larger than life, and assuredly in that picture is
+  contained the grandeur and terribleness of Michelangelo, the
+  pleasingness and grace of Raphael, with the coloring proper to nature,
+  and, moreover, this was the first public work which he made in oils;
+  and he made it in very little time, and young.”
+
+  “Thereupon the stupid painters and the vulgar herd who up to then had
+  seen nothing but the cold and dead things of Giovanni Bellini, of
+  Gentile, and of [Alvise] Vivarini (since Giorgione, working in oils,
+  had not yet had any public work; and for the most part made no other
+  works than half figures and portraits) which were without movement and
+  without relief, spake great ill of that picture. Afterwards, as envy
+  cooled, and opening their eyes a little to the truth, the people began
+  to be amazed at the new manner discovered in Venice by Titian: and all
+  the painters from then on strove to imitate it; but being off their
+  own path, became confused. And surely it must seem a miracle that
+  Titian, without having at that time seen the antiquities of Rome,
+  which were the light of all the good painters, solely with that little
+  spark, which he had discovered in the works of Giorgione, saw and
+  perceived the idea of perfect painting.”
+
+The general critical justness of this statement must condone its
+abundant overstatements and errors of fact.
+
+
+                AURELIO LUINI ON TITIAN’S IMPRESSIONISM
+
+“Aurelio Luini has excellently understood this art [of landscape] to
+whom it once happened that visiting Titian, and asking him his opinion
+about the background of trees, besides many reasons which he heard from
+him about making the foliage sparkle against the background, he saw one
+of his [Titian’s] wonderful landscapes which he had at home, which,
+having seen quietly, Aurelio thought a daubed up thing, but afterwards,
+having withdrawn to a distance, it seemed to him that the sun shone
+resplendently in it, making the paths retreat on this side and that; so
+that Aurelio had to say that he had never seen a rarer thing in the
+world in the way of landscapes.”
+
+                            Lomazzo, _Trattato_, Milan, 1584, p. 474, 5.
+
+
+                    ON BELLE NATURE AND THE ANTIQUE
+
+The Renaissance idea that Nature must be ennobled and corrected by the
+Antique is plainly formulated by Dolce, again under the name of Aretino,
+_Dialogo_, p. 190.
+
+  “One should then choose the most perfect form, imitating nature in
+  part.... And partly one should imitate the beautiful marble and bronze
+  figures of the ancient masters. Whereof who so shall taste and possess
+  fully the marvellous perfection, will be able with certainty to
+  correct many defects of nature, and make his pictures noteworthy and
+  grateful to all. Inasmuch as the ancient things contain the entire
+  perfection of art, and can be the exemplars of all beauty.”
+
+This is one of the earliest full statements of the notion of _belle
+nature_, and of the antique as normative. The dogma persists with
+unabated rigor down to Sir Joshua Reynolds (see Illustration to Chapter
+VI, p. 316) and Jacques Louis David.
+
+
+  GEORGE FREDERICK WATTS ON THE GREEK AFFINITIES OF VENETIAN PAINTING
+
+“The revival of the Greek Language and Greek Literature raised the long
+ebb into a wave that swept over civilized Europe. On its glittering
+crest the Venetian painters especially were lifted into the society of
+gods, goddesses, nymphs, and satyrs. They might see sky, sea and earth
+peopled with radiant beings; perhaps with a sort of semi-belief such as
+we accord to the Lorelei and fairies, creations that somehow easily
+worked in with creeds and experience. Anyhow, they might see Pan come
+dallying down the sparkling brook-side, now shouting to the laughing
+brown nymphs rustling through the reeds, and pretending to be afraid,
+now scattering a shower of notes from his pipes that would fall upon the
+ears as the brightness of the iris over a fountain falls upon the
+eye.”...
+
+“It may seem strange if I place the Venetian school and Titian, with his
+liberal line—which, however, is by no means wanting in reticence—in
+closer relationship with Greek art of the great period than the more
+classical schools of Tuscany and Rome. Supposing one were to endeavor to
+paint a restoration of the pediments of the Parthenon, it would be
+possible to interpolate with figures by Titian, never with any by
+Poussin, or, I think, even by Raphael or Michael Angelo.”...
+
+“In spite of extravagant and even absurd defects (for the great artist’s
+eyes no longer served him faithfully), when Titian, towards the end of
+his life painted the ‘Europa’ ... the muse who inspired Pheidias laid
+her hand on the old man’s shoulder, and she inspired the wealth of
+volume, ease of line, and glowing sense of nature’s exuberance.”
+
+_George Frederick Watts, his Life and Writings_, London and New York,
+Vol. III., pp. 251, 253, 254.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 309. Caravaggio. Death of the Virgin.—_Louvre._
+]
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+                       THE REALISTS AND ECLECTICS
+
+  The Confusion following Raphael and Michelangelo—Giulio
+      Romano—Caravaggio and realistic Revolt—Salvator Rosa, romantic
+      Individualism and the Picturesque—The Carracci and the Eclectic
+      Ideal—Later Eclectics; Guido Reni—Domenichino—The Waning of
+      Italian Greatness—Influence of Italy on the Schools of France,
+      Flanders, and Spain.
+
+
+Italian painting suddenly declined for lack of taste. The followers of
+Raphael and Michelangelo possessed astonishing power and knowledge, but,
+save their own cleverness, no longer had anything to express. Thus
+painting became merely an art of self-exploitation and display, a matter
+of difficult foreshortenings, complicated groupings, and novel
+constructions in light and shade. Such at least was the case at Rome,
+and partly at Florence. At Venice, Milan, Cremona, Ferrara, and
+generally in the North the decline was gradual and benign. Sincere art
+of a minor character was still produced. But in the artistic centre the
+collapse was complete, and all the more disastrous that nobody realized
+that a collapse had come.
+
+It is staggering to find that Vasari, in the face of merited ridicule,
+had no doubt that he was a great painter. How he boasts of his own
+powers! “But what matters most for this art, is that they have made it
+so perfect today, and so easy for him who possesses design, that where
+formerly a picture was made by one of our masters in six years, today
+our masters make six in one. And I am the credible witness of this both
+by my observation and by my work. And many more perfect and finished
+pictures are now seen, than formerly were made by the important
+masters.” (Vol. IV, p. 13.) Nothing is more appalling than to find
+Vasari at Florence and Lomazzo at Milan regularly naming Giulio Romano,
+Polidoro and Maturino along with Raphael and Michelangelo. Evidently the
+old sure taste of the Renaissance has yielded to confusion.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 310. Giulio Romano. Battle for Troy. Fresco.—_Palazzo del Tè.
+    Mantua._
+]
+
+Indeed patronage had changed. It is no longer spontaneous but organized.
+We now have academies, art schools, art criticism, exhibitions,
+archæologists, picture dealers. Art no longer rests on generally
+accepted ideas and broad approbations, but is a game between experts.
+
+To enumerate the followers of Michelangelo and Raphael and allot to each
+his due dispraise would be in no way profitable. Giulio Romano may
+represent them all. With extraordinary powers as a draughtsman of the
+figure, and with paradoxical taste in minor decoration, we know him
+already as the vulgarizer of Raphael’s designs in the Stanza of
+Heliodorus and of the Burning City. Later (1524–46) removed from
+Raphael’s influence, at Mantua, he develops a coarse titanism. The old
+Castello of the Gonzagas and the Palazzo del Tè, Figure 310, are
+tediously full of sensational and occasionally obscene mythologies which
+are done with amazing energy and facility, but are as restless and
+undecorative in design as they are hot and foxy in color. And the
+immoderations and indecencies have not even the excuse of naturalness,
+they are coldly calculated and studied. Such talented Florentine
+imitators of Michelangelo as Pontormo and Bronzino we have already
+considered. At Rome, he left at least one disciple of talent, Daniele da
+Volterra, in the composition of whose masterpiece the Deposition in the
+Convent of the Trinità, at Rome, the master himself may have had a hand.
+Rather than delay over these complacent epigones we do well to pass to
+those few more intelligent artists who saw that something was amiss.
+
+Michelangelo Amerighi, (1569–1608), called from his Lombard birthplace
+Caravaggio, and Annibale Carracci of Bologna are here the outstanding
+names. The former bitterly fought the grand style in the name of
+naturalism, the latter attempted to reintegrate it through a critical
+eclectism. Their influence is dominant from the last decade of the
+sixteenth century.
+
+Caravaggio[88] had carefully studied the impressionistic manner of late
+Titian but finally adopts a harsh and resolute chiaroscuro with the
+light restricted and the canvas mostly black. Thus his modelling is both
+brutal and academic. His real fight was with the nobility of Raphael.
+His saints are taken from the streets and often from the gutters. He
+loves character above all, and wants it proletarian. Within his chosen
+limitations he is a powerful and sincere artist. His masterpieces are
+the Entombment in the Vatican, and the Death of the Virgin in the
+Louvre, Figure 309, which created so much disapproval that it had to be
+removed from its altar. Both pictures take the theme out of the realm of
+legend, making it drastic and contemporary. Both, while rejecting all
+grandeur in the figures, preserve the tradition thereof in the
+composition. One gets Caravaggio in epitome in The Peter denying his
+Lord of the Vatican. Figure 311. It is a powerful character study from
+low life. Indeed character is his watchword. One finds it extravagantly
+over-emphasized in his famous pothouse and gambling scenes, a
+revolutionary innovation. The most famous and one of the best is The
+Card Players, at Dresden, Figure 312. It is the symbol of the painter’s
+love of low life. He killed his man in a duel, and died himself when
+turned out of prison into the August sun.
+
+Before that fitting end he had fled to Naples where amid the corruption
+of the Spanish overlordship his proletarian ideals became generally
+contagious. They were taken up eagerly by the Valencian, José Ribera,
+who with an equal sense for character and a more genuine religious
+feeling transmitted the manner to Seville and eventually to Velasquez.
+So Caravaggio became the founder of the modern realistic and
+impressionistic schools, a precursor of Courbet and Manet. Except for a
+surplusage of too emphatic character studies, smiling and weeping
+philosophers, Ribera was a true and most skilful artist. Having no
+quarrel with an earlier grand style, he had the grace of simplicity.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 311. Caravaggio. St. Peter denying his Lord.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 312. Caravaggio. The Card Players.—_Dresden._
+]
+
+Both at Rome and Naples swaggering Caravaggio had enormous success. His
+heads, we read, brought more than other men’s compositions. He boasted
+himself the greatest painter of all time, and was often believed. From
+his swarthy tones his entire school took the name, the Tenebrists. His
+experiments in interior and artificial lighting were widely imitated,
+and again ultimately passed into recent Impressionism. His rejection of
+noble form in favor of what one sees, and of decorative color in favor
+of natural, was the sharpest possible challenge of the Renaissance
+style, and outside of Italy where the noble tradition was only incipient
+did much to arrest its diffusion. From the point of view of modern art
+there are few more important figures. From the point of view of art
+broadly he has his serious limitations. Most damaging is his waiver of
+civilization, he looks at low life not with the eyes of a detached
+artist but with those of a ruffian. He did not have the intelligence to
+live up to his own formula. Annibale Carracci was once looking at
+Caravaggio’s Judith, and, being pressed for an opinion, remarked that it
+was “too natural.” He spoke as an admirer of the grand style. A modern
+realist would make the far more radical criticism that Caravaggio is
+never natural enough. He really makes no close study of the subtleties
+of natural appearance or of the actual refinements of illumination, but
+rather substitutes for the old stately formulas a new, more ugly, and
+less studied formula of his own. Logically he should have gone forward
+with Ribera and Velasquez to a real investigation of appearances. But
+his logic was only that of scorn, and it would doubtless have somewhat
+compensated him for a sordid and premature end, could he have forseen
+that his biographers would credit him with the ruin of Italian painting.
+
+Through Ribera, Caravaggio’s influence passes to the Neapolitan,
+Salvator[89] Rosa (1615–1673). With greater vivacity and better color
+Salvator repeats the character studies and tavern scenes, also bringing
+the proletarian mood into mythology. He painted battle pieces of real
+ferocity. He was an irascible, vain and capricious person, proud of
+being so; a scorner of his own patrons and of the bourgeois generally; a
+maker of epigrams, and a writer of satires. His specialty is the
+sinister and picturesque, and he practices it with gusto and ability,
+Figure 313. Salvator is the real discoverer of the picturesque, the
+first enthusiast for the savage aspects of nature. Likewise he was one
+of the first artists to study effects—sunsets, storms, mists, and
+whirling clouds. He excursioned in the Abruzzo, equally savoring its
+crags, torrents, and forests, and its ferocious banditti. His letters on
+these wanderings are among the first and most important documents of the
+modern cult of nature. He writes: “You have saddened me by giving me the
+news of your having been in Garfagna, and having rejoiced in the
+savagery of that country so congenial to my nature.... To be merely
+reminded of it brings the tears to my eyes.” Again he writes from the
+Adriatic Apennines: “I have been two weeks in continual travel and the
+trip is much more strange and picturesque than that of Florence, beyond
+comparison so, since there is such an extravagant mixture of the rough
+and cultivated, of the level and precipitous that nothing more could be
+desired for the satisfaction of the eye.”... “At Terni, four miles off
+the road I saw the famous falls of the Velino, a thing to haunt and
+possess the most insatiable mind because of its horrid beauty. To see a
+river that plunges straight down a mountain for half a mile, and sends
+up its foam as high!” Much of the stormy and energetic character of such
+scenes is transcribed in the best landscapes of Salvator, Figure 314. In
+their age they evoked little following. But these forests, cascades,
+evening seaports, and ruined sites were freely bought by the English,
+greatly admired and had their part in producing the literary enthusiasm
+for wild nature in the eighteenth century.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 313. Salvator Rosa. Landscape with figures.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+Salvator avows his “extravagant genius,” is driven by the lust for
+novelty, is a modern and romantic spirit. Withal he was a man of
+capacity and taste with an open-minded understanding of quite alien
+merit. “Here, we esteem M. Poussin,” he writes in October, 1665, “more
+than any one else in the world.”
+
+Poussin could never have returned the compliment. His approbation was
+for Raphael, the Carracci and Domenichino. Indeed a chief glory of the
+Bolognese Eclectics was that their critical method sufficed to nurture
+so classic a spirit as Poussin’s and so to establish the academic
+tradition for Northern Europe.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 314. Salvator Rosa. Landscape.—_Pitti._
+]
+
+Though the Eclectic movement is properly associated with the cousins
+Lodovico and Annibale Carracci,[90] it somewhat antecedes them. The
+impetus comes from Flanders with the painter of Antwerp, Denis Calvert,
+who came to Bologna late in the sixteenth century and founded an art
+school. Like all the better educated Flemings, he represented a profound
+nostalgia for Renaissance grandeur, and also a certain detachment from
+the particular Italian artists who had embodied the ideal of
+_grandezza_. Such a man is, perforce, an eclectic, studying widely the
+methods of his great predecessors and seeking to assimilate in his own
+art their various perfections. Besides, methods of comparative study
+which had formerly been extremely difficult if not impossible were now
+easy. Casts were available of the antique marbles, fairly faithful
+engravings were at hand for all the great painters. It is significant
+that both the Carracci were reproductive engravers. Denis Calvert was no
+genius, but a prudent and sagacious artist who made the most of a
+slender endowment. His critical and assimilative spirit passed over to
+his best pupils. Their reform, unlike Caravaggio’s, was not
+revolutionary, but based on a careful restudy of the grand style, which
+they had never wavered in venerating.
+
+Annibale Carracci was reared in devotion to Raphael, whose fine St.
+Cecilia was at Bologna. Venice lured him, but he was rebuffed by
+Tintoretto. Annibale made profound studies of Correggio at Parma, whence
+he writes that Raphael now seems wooden to him in comparison. He is now
+launched on the impossible quest of combining with the austere grandeur
+of the Roman School, the charm of Venetian coloring and the emotional
+instability of Correggio. Thus it was an attempt to restore the grand
+style largely in the name of one of its chief disintegrators, and as
+such it was from the first headed for failure. Yet it was an attempt
+dictated by the times, and the inevitable choice of any superior spirit
+who wished to reknit the Renaissance tradition.
+
+It was the moment of the Catholic Reaction and of the endeavor of the
+new Jesuit Order to rebuild a shaken Church on the basis of persuasion.
+Largely shorn of authority, the Church must now be popular or perish. It
+wisely chose to be popular, adopting the thrilling novelties of Baroque
+architecture, borrowing from the opera its swelling choral cadences,
+everywhere stressing the note of charm, surprise and emotion. So the
+moderation and austerity which underlay the Renaissance style were
+forbidden to the Eclectics, and they chiefly differed from the rival
+Naturalists in choosing to make their sensationalism as decorous as the
+circumstances permitted. Such is the social background of the Carracci’s
+reform, and they deserve utmost credit for achieving so much under such
+limitations.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 315. Lodovico Carracci. Assumption.—_Bologna._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 316. Annibale Carracci. Madonna in Glory.—_Bologna._
+]
+
+Agostino (1568–1602) was the brains of the family, courtier, scholar,
+man of the world. Annibale (1560–1609) was the nerves,—moody, shy,
+solitary, with titan ambitions in a small and unprepossessing frame. His
+cousin, Lodovico (1555–1619), was possibly the best artist of the three
+if only because he attempted less and followed sentimentalism frankly
+without too much bothering about grandeur.
+
+Lodovico, Figure 315, and Annibale, Figure 316, enriched the churches of
+Bologna with great animated altar-pieces which enthralled their
+contemporaries, and today seem more than a little affected. But that is
+merely because we no longer share what was an entirely sincere way of
+religious feeling. They started an Academy in which the antique, the
+nude, and competitive composition were the staple of instruction quite
+as in French and British State art schools today. In the Bolognese
+palaces the Carracci did in fresco great mythological series, consulting
+Homer, Virgil and Ovid and Apollonius of Rhodes. In the main they had
+friezes to do, and they drew heavily from Correggio, tempering his
+alacrity with something of the heavier energy of the Roman style.
+
+In 1585 the Carracci set up their Academy. It was soon thronged.
+Agostino, a courtly, learned and accomplished person, was the leading
+influence, being lecturer as well as drawing master. Even, Annibale,
+habitually an offish and difficult man, is said to have been affable and
+helpful to his disciples.
+
+In studying his pictures, one feels that he was thwarted of his true
+development. Not only was he much of a realist, painting tavern scenes,
+Figure 317, after Caravaggio’s lead, but also a studious and charming
+landscape painter, Figure 318. His soberly colored and gracefully
+composed landscapes were an important influence on Poussin. Annibale’s
+adventures in the grand style, though audacious and loudly applauded,
+really did some violence to his modest and sensitive spirit. His was the
+least academic temperament imaginable, and the final disastrous quarrel
+with his eminently academic brother, Agostino, was inevitable.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 317. Annibale Carracci. The Bean Eater.—_Prince Colonna, Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 318. Annibale Carracci. Flight to Egypt.—_Doria, Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 319. Annibale Carracci. Ceiling Detail.—_Farnese Palace, Rome._
+]
+
+Annibale and Agostino were called to Rome in 1595 to fresco Cardinal
+Odoardo Farnese’s palace. Annibale was thirty-five years old, Agostino a
+few years younger. Both had reaped all honors possible at Bologna, and
+they came to the Eternal City at a fortunate moment. The favorite
+decorators were men of routine talent, Taddeo Zuccaro and the Cavaliere
+d’Arpino. Caravaggio’s amazing and perturbing genius had already
+asserted itself, but he was not a mural painter. After a preliminary
+series of mythologies in the riverside casino of the Palazzo Farnese,
+Annibale turned, in 1597, to the decoration of the great hall. It was a
+lofty tunnel-like room of refractory proportions. The theme was to be
+the loves of the gods. But the great spaces in which are represented
+Bacchus and Ariadne, the Judgment of Paris, Polyphemus and Galatea,
+Cephalus and Aurora, Hero and Leander, amongst other subjects, yield in
+effect to the general plan and the incidental decoration. Annibale, who
+despite contemporary accounts to the contrary, controlled everything,
+has taken as his motive the architectural framework which Michelangelo
+designed for the Sistine, with its burden of decorative nudes. One looks
+past heavy painted cornices, Figure 319, to painted statuary in
+profusion, thickly set, and, behind, more nudes in natural hues, the
+whole echoed by nudes in stucco relief on the walls. We have instead of
+the relative flatness of Michelangelo and his predecessors a consistent
+lumpiness, which, while theoretically tasteless, is actually rich,
+satisfying, and even light. Only an extraordinary ability could have
+kept any kind of unity in this wilful and extravagant complexity, Figure
+320. But unity there is and coherent expression of a mood at once
+pompous and festal.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 320. Annibale Carracci and Helpers. Grand Hall, Farnese
+    Palace.—ROME.
+]
+
+The pictures, as we have noted, seem to count for less than their
+borders. When we examine the love scenes, we find them at once coarse
+and mannered. They are superficially like Giulio Romano at Mantua but
+without his self-satisfied brutality. To this extent they are inferior,
+and indeed the strain to be at once grand, graceful, and passionate is
+only too apparent throughout the pictorial part. Yet as a whole the
+decoration seems hardly inferior in power, ingenuity, and rhythmical
+fulness to such ancient masterpieces of kindred inspiration as the
+Pergamon frieze. For the moment the decoration was enthusiastically
+acclaimed, after three-quarters of a century it taught Charles Le Brun
+the way to decorate the Louvre and the Palace at Versailles, and even
+today the admirer of the fountains of Rome and of her Baroque churches
+must admit that Annibale caught the very spirit of his day, in its
+superfluity of learned vaingloriousness and shortage of the simpler and
+more noble passions.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 321. Guido Reni. Madonna with two Saints.
+]
+
+For the artist the work brought only chagrin. The Cardinal treated him
+with stinginess and personal spite. His irritation with his brother
+reached the explosive point. Agostino left him staggering under the
+weight of an ungrateful task, he fell into a dangerous melancholy, and
+in 1609 died miserably, leaving his helpers Albani and Domenichino to
+finish the gallery.
+
+Of the followers of the Carracci, Guido Reni[91] (1575–1642) and
+Domenichino (1581–1641), are the most important. At his worst Guido Reni
+is the most repellant of sentimentalists, at his best a realist of the
+calibre of Ribera himself. In his time there are no grander old men than
+his, better painted or more fully realized as characters. You find them
+at their best in the Madonna of St. Paul, at Berlin, or the Immaculate
+Conception at Petrograd, or the Madonna with St. Jerome, in the Vatican,
+Figure 321. It is hard to reconcile them with his sleek and cheaply
+seductive Magdalens, Cleopatras and Venuses. What steadies him in his
+inconsistency is a fine and simple sense of composition. He is lucid
+where his masters, the Carracci, tend to be confused. His taste is more
+coherent than his character. Under other conditions than those of
+academic Bologna and Papal Rome he might easily have become a realist of
+Zurbaran’s type. As it was, he undertook the usual synthesis of the
+grand style with the new sentimentality. Generally speaking he is
+neither grand nor sentimental enough, but superficial in both regards.
+Yet his discretion saves him in such works as the ceiling of the Villa
+Rospigliosi (1615) and the supremely elegant St. Michael, Figure 323, of
+the Cappucini. I like the Aurora, Figure 322, nay love it well this side
+of idolatry, for the same reason that I like Kipling’s lines
+
+                  “An’ the dawn comes up like thunder
+                  Outer China ’crost the bay.”
+
+Both the fresco and the verses have the same pounding and obvious, yet
+thrilling cadences, both bring lyricism to the brink of bombast without
+letting it go over.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 322. Guido Reni. Aurora. Ceiling Fresco.—_Casino Rospigliosi,
+    Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 323. Guido Reni. Saint Michael.—_Cappucini, Rome._
+]
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 324. Domenichino. Last Communion of St. Jerome.—_Vatican._
+]
+
+Domenico Zampieri, called Domenichino,[92] (1581–1641) is a far more
+serious figure. We see him best not in the sentimental sibyls which he
+multiplied nor even in the studied emotionalism of his most famous
+altar-piece, the Last Communion of St. Jerome, in the Vatican, Figure
+324, but, rather in such decorations as those in S. Andrea della Valle,
+and in the monastic church of Grotta Ferrata. Here we find a heavy and
+simple emphasis, a great clarity both of figure construction and of
+composition. For his personal awkwardness, patience and quietism his
+comrades mockingly called him the Ox. It took character to play the ox
+amid the febrile sprightliness of the Catholic Reaction. His gravity is
+marked also in his color. He forsakes the old decorative conventions of
+the Renaissance and works in olive and silvery tones which suggest in a
+generalizing way the coolness and freshness of nature. Above all he is
+not facile like most of his contemporaries, but studious, dilatory, and
+considerate. At times he yields to the prevailing sentimentality, but
+usually he is both spontaneous and reticent. He seldom insists, but
+candidly lets the picture be seen. All these qualities appear in the
+modestly hoydenish masterpiece, Diana and her Nymphs, in the Borghese
+Gallery, Figure 325. It is completely captivating for its element of
+surprise, its manly wholesomeness, its winsome setting of lithe girlish
+bodies amid verdure under a gray sky. This unaffected mood in mythology
+has rarely been recaptured. We have it in Vermeer’s little Diana at the
+Hague and, only yesterday, in the Nausicaa of Lucien Simon. Such
+qualities of lucidity, reserve, and simple nobility made Domenichino the
+natural model for Nicholas Poussin. We can trace the influence through
+Poussin’s masterpieces, and had France been wise enough to understand
+her greatest painter, her academic tradition, which was promoted in
+Poussin’s name, might have taken a much more fruitful course than it
+actually did.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  FIG. 325. Domenichino. Diana and her Nymphs.—_Borghese, Rome._
+]
+
+An ill fate finally took Domenichino to Naples. There he found the
+ruffianly local painters banded against every foreigner, and in
+particular he met the systematic animosity of the truculent Spaniard,
+Ribera. Outright terrorism alternated with petty persecution. They
+defaced his work and tampered with his materials. Soon they broke his
+delicate and timid spirit, even turned him against the wife with whom he
+had lived on terms of ideal affection. Today it remains uncertain
+whether he died of shattered nerves or was actually poisoned. Presumably
+the barbarous Neapolitans would have done about the same to any visiting
+artist, but doubtless they turned the screw a shade harder upon a gentle
+idealist who brought into their realistic stews some afterglow of the
+quietistic dignity of a Montagna or a Cima.
+
+When all reservations are made, the Eclectics had fairly done their work
+of correcting the disorder of the late Renaissance and of restoring
+something of the old decorum. They made possible the revival of the
+grand style at Rome, in the eighteenth century, by Carlo Maratta and
+Raphael Mengs. The Eclectics were the bridge by which the classical
+manner passed over into Western Europe, an indispensable link in the
+chain of the great hellenistic tradition. That should be enough to keep
+them in memory if not in unqualified honor.
+
+Our review of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth, century in Italy
+will have served its purpose if it has convinced the reader that this
+was no time of stagnation. We have rather to do with activities of
+exploration and reconstruction which are much too restless and various.
+The intellectual power of the Italian painters had not greatly
+diminished in comparison with the Renaissance. Italy still was capable
+of giving the leads which have guided painting elsewhere ever since.
+What was lacking was not energy but patience, reflection and taste. The
+Italian artist tended to regard himself as a swift and resolute
+executant first of all, and no longer knew how to nourish his spirit as
+a man. Even as executants, the realists and eclectics had the
+humiliation of finding themselves outdone by foreigners. Successively in
+the seventeenth century Ribera, Rubens, Van Dyck, Velasquez, Claude
+Lorrain and Poussin came to Italy and sojourned there. It was in every
+case apparent that the foreigner excelled all native artists in his
+field. The traditional authority of Italian painting still held, but its
+contemporary glory was evidently waning.
+
+But even in decline Italy was strong enough to hand on her torch to
+newer hands. From Titian stems the florid classicism and aristocratic
+portraiture of Rubens and Van Dyck, which dominated the whole eighteenth
+century in France and England; through Caravaggio and Ribera, Italy made
+Velasquez the founder of those most characteristic nineteenth century
+movements, realism and impressionism; through Raphael, the Carracci and
+Domenichino, she fed the white flame of Poussin’s classicism, which in
+one way or another has determined the academic development of all
+Western Europe. Thus Italian painting, eternally alive in the timeless
+region where dwells the fame of Giotto, Masaccio, Leonardo, Giorgione,
+Raphael, Michelangelo, Titian, is as well most practically and actually
+alive in the recent and present struggles, failures, and triumphs of our
+modern schools. Without understanding Italian painting we cannot
+understand our own painting. And while the modern world will hardly
+return to the coherence, solidity, and grace of the great Gothic and
+Renaissance masters, I am confident that there can be no exit from our
+present confusion and incoherence until our painters learn at least to
+consult those great Italian predecessors who dwelt on the heights above
+which is the abode of the human spirit’s creative rest.
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER IX
+
+
+                         ON THE ECLECTIC IDEAL
+
+The nearly contemporary account of Carlo Cesare Malvasia, _Felsina
+Pittrice_, Bologna, 1841, Tom. I. p. 263 is instructive.
+
+  “Lodovico ... was the first who supplied a firm prop to tottering
+  painting and was able to save it from imminent harm and ruin. He was
+  the one who courageously opposed that vainglorious time, which
+  succeeded the most perfect age, and liberating it from the common ills
+  of those erroneous mannerisms which dared to tyrannize that fair
+  profession that had been raised so high, not only wished to restore it
+  to its first vigor, but also to a state still more perfect and
+  sublime.... Taking the best from all the best artists, one sees him,
+  with a facility no longer used and valued, form from them a brief
+  compendium, rather a precious extract, outside of and beyond which
+  little more remained for the studious to desire. And coupling and
+  uniting with the discretion of Raphael the intelligence of
+  Michelangelo, and adding withal with the color of Titian the angelic
+  purity of Correggio, he succeeded in forming from all these manners a
+  single one, which had nothing to envy in the Roman, Florentine,
+  Venetian and Lombard manners.”
+
+
+A Sonnet supposed, without complete evidence, to have been addressed by
+Annibale Carracci to the painter Niccolò d’Abate gives an even more
+complete and correct account of the elements that blended in the style
+of the Carracci. I quote it from Rouchès, _La Peinture Bolonaise_,
+Paris, 1913, p. 123, note 1.
+
+            “To make a good painter let him have
+            At ready and eager hand the drawing of Rome,
+            The movement with the shading of Venice,
+            And the dignified coloring of Lombardy.
+            The terrible manner of Michelangelo
+            And Correggio’s pure and sovereign style
+            And the true symmetry of Raphael,
+            Tibaldi’s decorum and substance,
+            The inventiveness of learned Primaticcio
+            And a little of Parmigianino’s grace.
+            Not without having strenuously made such studies
+            Let him place before himself for imitation
+            The works which our Niccolò has left here.”
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+                                 NOTES
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+Footnote 1:
+
+  For the altar as tomb-shrine see Yrjö Hirn’s learned and fascinating
+  book, _The Sacred Shrine_, London, 1912.
+
+Footnote 2:
+
+  For the Byzantine pictorial style see the excellent summary in _Fogg
+  Art Museum, Collection of Mediaeval and Renaissance Paintings_,
+  Harvard Univ. Press, 1919, pp. 3–10; also a more extended treatment in
+  O. M. Dalton _Byzantine Art and Archaeology_, Oxford, 1911, chapters
+  V, VI, VII.
+
+Footnote 3:
+
+  For the influence of St. Dominic, St. Thomas Aquinas, and St. Francis
+  read the respective chapters in Taylor, _The Mediaeval Mind_; for St.
+  Francis, Thomas Okey’s translation, _The little Flowers of St.
+  Francis_ in “Everyman’s Library.” E. Gebhart, _Italie Mystique_,
+  Paris, 1908, is also enlightening.
+
+Footnote 4:
+
+  _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. XXXII (1918) pp. 45–6. Mr. Berenson in
+  _Rassegna d’Arte, “Dedalo,”_ Vol. II., (1921) fasc. V, makes this
+  superb Madonna a Constantinople picture of the late 12th century. His
+  confessedly slight argument fails to convince me. Aside from the air
+  of the picture, the form of the wooden throne is specific for Tuscany
+  and the second half of the 13th century.
+
+  _Cimabue._ Andreas Aubert, _Cimabue Frage_, Leipzig, 1907, is the
+  standard work. The various views on the early frescoes of the Upper
+  Church at Assisi are well summarized in Brown and Rankin, _A Short
+  History_, pp. 54 and 57–59.
+
+  An unsuccessful attempt to reduce Cimabue to a myth has been made by
+  Langton Douglas in his edition of _C. &. C._, Vol. I., p. 187–193. The
+  constructive and accepted view is that of Aubert. My list differs
+  slightly from his and is:
+
+  Louvre Madonna, about 1275, Louvre.
+
+  Trinità Madonna, about 1285, Uffizi.
+
+  The frescoes of the Choir and transepts of S. Francesco at Assisi,
+  saving possibly the big Ascent to the Cross, circa 1296, Assisi.
+
+  Madonna with St. Francis (fresco), after 1290, Assisi, Lower Church of
+  San Francesco.
+
+  St. John in mosaic in the Apse of the Cathedral at Pisa, 1301.
+
+  Venturi’s endeavor to attach to Cimabue some of the later New
+  Testament mosaics in the vault of the Florentine Baptistry, see
+  _Storia_, Vol. V., p. 229—is plausible but not convincing. His
+  attribution of lost frescoes in the portico of old St. Peter’s, known
+  from sketch copies, _Storia_, Vol. V, p. 195—has no solid basis. Two
+  fresco fragments, heads of Peter and Paul, remain, and are published
+  by Wilpert, _Die Mosaiken &_, bd. I, fig. 144, and by him correctly
+  assigned to Cavallini or some Roman follower.
+
+  R. van Marle, in _La Peinture Romaine_, Strasbourg, 1921, has made a
+  most careful study of all the earliest frescoes in the Upper Church.
+  Generally I concur in his conclusions, but cannot see Cavallini in the
+  far abler work of the Isaac Master. The date, 1296, which Van Marle
+  found in the Choir at Assisi, makes it pretty certain that all the
+  frescoes in the Upper Church were executed between 1293–5 and 1300.
+
+  In _Toskanische Maler im XIII Jahrhundert_, Berlin, 1922, Dr. O. Sirén
+  makes a comprehensive survey of the earliest painters of Lucca, Pisa,
+  and Florence. He endeavors to reconstruct the works of Coppo di
+  Marcovaldo whom he regards as a formative influence on Cimabue. To the
+  usual list of Cimabue’s works Dr. Sirén adds, with Aubert, a great
+  Madonna in the Servi, Bologna; and also a Madonna in the Verzocchi
+  Collection, Milan; and an extraordinarily fine crucifixion in the
+  d’Hendecourt Collection, London. Dr. Sirén also accepts for Cimabue
+  the triptych of Christ, St. Peter and St James, which Berenson first
+  published in _Art in America_, for 1920. Of these accretions none but
+  the d’Hendecourt Crucifixion is at all persuasive to me.
+
+Footnote 5:
+
+  The latest and fullest discussion of Pietro Cavallini is by Stanley
+  Lothrop in _Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome_, Vol. II, 1918. I
+  think he is in error in seeing Cavallini at Assisi and Perugia. Van
+  Marle, note above, has thrown additional light on the continuity of a
+  Roman school.
+
+Footnote 6:
+
+  _C. &. C._ (Ed. Hutton) Vol. I, pp. 194–5. Zimmermann (_Giotto_ &c.,
+  Leipzig, 1899), H. Thode (_Franz von Assisi_, Berlin, 1904), and Fr.
+  Hermanin (_Gallerie nazionali Italiane_, Vol. V (1902), p. 113)
+  ascribe the Stories of Isaac and some other superior frescoes of the
+  upper row to youthful Giotto. They seem too accomplished and mature
+  for that and are all allied to Gaddo Gaddi’s mosaics at Rome.
+
+Footnote 7:
+
+  _Giotto._ Osvald Sirén, _Giotto and Some of his Followers_, Cambridge,
+  Harvard Univ. Press, 1917, in 2 Vols., gives a reasonable chronology
+  and is valuable for illustrations.
+
+  Roger E. Fry, _Monthly Review_, Vol. I, pp. 126–151; Vol. II, pp.
+  139–157; Vol. III, pp, 96–121 is an admirable critical analysis of
+  Giotto’s style, but the ascriptions and chronology are often doubtful.
+  Excellent on the frescoes at Sta. Croce. The essay is reprinted in
+  _Vision and Design_, London, 1921.
+
+  J. B. Supino’s startling views in the chronology of Giotto, expressed
+  in _Giotto_, Florence, 1920, in 3 Vols., seem to me fantastic.
+
+  His general order is the Allegories of the Lower Church and the
+  Baroncelli altar-piece about 1300, the Arena frescoes 1305, the St.
+  Francis series in the Upper Church about 1310, the Peruzzi Chapel
+  about 1312, etc.
+
+  My list would be:
+
+ The Early Part of the St. Francis Series (II-XVIII)   before         1300
+ The Mosaic of the Navicella (completely restored)     about          1300
+ Stigmatization of St. Francis (Louvre)                  „              „
+ The Arena Frescoes                                    about          1305
+ The Madonna of Ognissanti                               „              „
+ The Franciscan Allegories, Lower Church (design only)   „           1312–20
+ The Stefaneschi Altar-piece (in part)                   „    1320, perhaps earlier
+ The Peruzzi Chapel, Santa Croce                       after          1320
+ The Bardi Chapel,     „   „                           about          1325
+ The Dormition of the Virgin, at Berlin                  „            1325
+ Madonna, Ancona, Bologna (design only)                  „            1330
+ The Paradise in the Bargello                          after          1330
+ Part of the Magdalen Legends there                      „              „
+ Part of the Magdalen Legends, Lower Church, Assisi      „              „
+ Baroncelli Altar-piece (design only)                    „              „
+ Small panels of the Life of Christ
+ at New York, Fenway Court, Boston;                      „              „
+ Munich and Berenson Collection,                         „              „
+ Settignano (bottega works)                              „              „
+
+Footnote 8:
+
+  Padre Angelis, _Collis Paradisi_, 1704, I, p. 33.
+
+Footnote 9:
+
+  About the 28 stories of St. Francis there is no agreement except that
+  Nos. I and XXVI-VIII are by the “Cecelia Master.” Venturi sees Giotto
+  only in the later stories. I agree with Berenson that the ruder
+  frescoes, II-XVIII, which are based on the so-called Roman work above
+  show us Giotto at his beginnings. For the various views consult Brown
+  and Rankin, _A Short History_, pp. 48–9, 59, 61.
+
+Footnote 10:
+
+  Alex. Romdahl’s attempt to set the upper row many years later than the
+  rest is entirely unconvincing to me. See _Jahrbuch der K. Preussischen
+  Kunstsammlungen_, 1911, pp. 3–18.
+
+Footnote 11:
+
+  John Ruskin, _Mornings in Florence_, _passim_.
+
+Footnote 12:
+
+  _Giotto’s Followers._ Osvald Sirén, _Giotto and Some of his
+  Followers_, see note 7, may be freely consulted for illustrations and
+  very cautiously for attributions.
+
+Footnote 13:
+
+  Peleo Bacci’s ascription of the recently discovered Passion frescoes
+  in the Badia to Buffalmacco seems reasonable, _Bollettino d’ Arte_, V
+  (1911) pp. 1–27. Dr. Sirén ascribes these frescoes to Nardo di Cione
+  and follows Venturi in identifying Buffalmacco with the “Cecelia
+  Master.” _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. XXXVI, p. 10. The hypothesis
+  still lacks solid foundation.
+
+Footnote 14:
+
+  By Vasari the Spanish Chapel was divided between Taddeo Gaddi and
+  Simone Martini. _C. &. C._ discovered that the work was by an Andrea
+  da Firenze who as a document attests painted stories of S. Ranieri at
+  Pisa, in 1377. The contract which proves this Andrea to have been
+  Andrea Bonaiuti, active 1343–77, was published in _Arte e Storia_,
+  Florence, Feb., 1917, p. 33. It gives the date of the contract for the
+  Spanish Chapel, 1365.
+
+  The very elaborate decoration of the Spanish Chapel is fully described
+  in _C. &. C._ (Hutton) Vol. I., pp. 309–312. There are useful literary
+  illustrations in Venturi, _Storia dell’ arte italiana_, Vol. V., pp.
+  792–809. Ruskin in _Mornings in Florence_ gives a partial analysis
+  which is fascinating from a literary point of view, but badly
+  overestimates the merit of the work.
+
+
+                           CHAPTER II.—SIENA
+
+GENERAL WORKS:
+
+ Langton Douglas. _A History of Siena._ New York, 1902.
+ Ferdinand Schevill. _Siena, the Story of a Mediæval Commune_, New York,
+    1909.
+ Edmund G. Gardiner. _The Story of Siena and San Gemignano_, London,
+    1902.
+ William Heywood and Lucy Olcott. _Guide to Siena, History and Art_,
+    London, 1903.
+
+  PAINTING, THE SCHOOL.
+
+      Emil Jacobsen. _Sienesische Meister des Trecento in der Gemälde
+          Galerie zu Siena_, Strassburg, 1907; _Das Quattrocento in
+          Siena_, Strassburg, 1908; _Sodoma und das Cinquecento in
+          Siena_, Strassburg, 1910; all very valuable for illustrations.
+
+      Venturi, _Storia dell’ Arte Italiana_, Vols. V and VII.
+
+      Bernard Berenson, _Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance_,
+          New York and London, 1909.
+
+      C. Ricci, _Il Palazzo Pubblico di Siena e la Mostra d’Antica Arte
+          Senese_, Bergamo, 1904, offers a good and inexpensive survey
+          of Sienese handicraft in general.
+
+  SIENESE PICTURES IN THE UNITED STATES. Consult the illustrated
+      catalogues of the Fogg Museum, Harvard; and of the Jarves
+      Collection, Yale. Also many special articles in _Art in America_,
+      especially the series in Vol. VIII-IX, by F. Mason Perkins, _Some
+      Sienese Paintings in American Collections_.
+
+Footnote 15:
+
+  The fact that the Madonna of the Palazzo Pubblico had been much
+  repainted in Duccio’s time not unnaturally threw Milanesi and other
+  critics off the track. But the date is entirely genuine (see _C. & C._
+  [Douglas] Vol. I, p. 162, note 1*; and E. Jacobsen, _Das Trecento_, p.
+  18). The latter writes, “The signature and date are genuine. There is
+  no tenable ground for doubting them.”
+
+  I have satisfied myself by close inspection that such is the case, and
+  the half dozen or so other panels associated with this Madonna
+  stylistically all seem to belong to the first half of the 13th
+  century.
+
+Footnote 16:
+
+  Sirén, _Burlington Magazine_, XXXII (1918) p. 45, ascribes this panel
+  to Cavallini. Berenson in _Dedalo_, Vol. II, fasc. v, allots it to
+  Constantinople at the end of the 12th century. Neither view is even
+  plausible to me.
+
+Footnote 17:
+
+  _Duccio._ A. Lisini, _Notizie di Duccio_ &c. Siena, 1898. Curt
+  Weigelt, _Duccio di Buoninsegna_, Leipzig, 1911, the standard
+  monograph, well illustrated.
+
+Footnote 18:
+
+  The whole matter of the Rucellai Madonna is well discussed by Douglas
+  in his edition of _C. & C._, Vol. I. Appendix to chapter VI. Andreas
+  Aubert, _Cimabue_, p. 138 ff., and Curt Weigelt, _Duccio_, both agree
+  that the Rucellai Madonna is the picture called for by the contract of
+  1285, hence is by Duccio. Aside from many stylistic similarities to
+  Duccio’s early Madonna with Franciscans in the Siena Academy, the
+  exquisitely drawn bare feet of the Angels in the Rucellai Madonna
+  amount almost to a signature for Siena’s greatest painter. H. Thode
+  and O. Sirén hold that a picture designed and begun by Duccio was
+  finished by Cimabue, _Toskanische Maler_, pp. 308–9, and note 41 to
+  latter page. The hypothesis that Duccio was strongly influenced by
+  Cimabue in this work seems simpler.
+
+Footnote 19:
+
+  The contract is worth quoting in part from G. Fontana, _Due documenti
+  inediti riguardanti Cimabue_, Pisa, 1878; it is reprinted in
+  Strzygowski, _Cimabue und Rom_, Wien, 1888. The papers were recovered
+  from a grocer who was about to use them for wrappers.
+
+
+  “Which picture of the Majesty of Divine and Blessed Virgin Mary and of
+  the Apostles and other saints is to be made in columns and in the
+  predella and [main] spaces of the picture good and pure florin gold
+  shall be used; the other pictures which are to be made in the
+  aforesaid panel above the columns in tabernacles, gables, and frames
+  shall be made ... of good silver gilt.”
+
+
+  The picture apparently was a polyptych of three, five, or seven panels
+  with columns and round arches, with an upper order of gables and
+  tabernacles. It seems to have been the first well-peopled Madonna in
+  Majesty, and it probably served as Duccio’s exemplar. Cimabue died
+  before finishing it, but since in Nov. 1302 he received a large
+  installment of 40 Pisan _lire_, he must at least have fully drawn the
+  composition on the panel.
+
+Footnote 20:
+
+  _Simone Martini._ See the standard work by Raimond van Marle, _Simone
+  Martini_, Strasbourg, 1920.
+
+  There is considerable difference among critics in dating these
+  frescoes, and no objective evidence. The early date, 1322–25,
+  suggested by Venturi and Van Marle, is confirmed by the stylistic
+  character of the work. It lacks the calligraphic, linear formulas
+  which abound in Simone’s works after 1330. The early date also agrees
+  with the general probabilities of the course of events in the
+  decoration of the Lower Church at Assisi.
+
+Footnote 21:
+
+  Frey’s ed. Berlin, 1886, p. 42.
+
+Footnote 22:
+
+  The contract for this altar-piece is translated in the illustrations
+  to chapter II, p. 106.
+
+Footnote 23:
+
+  Venturi, Vol. V, pp. 680–694, offers a sensible compromise view of the
+  authorship of this series, assigning to Pietro himself only the
+  Deposition, Entombment, Stigmatization of St. Francis and a Madonna
+  and Saints, ascribing most of the subjects to an assistant. Dr. Ernest
+  Dewald in a forthcoming Princeton dissertation takes a more skeptical
+  view than Venturi as to Pietro’s presence at Assisi.
+
+Footnote 24:
+
+  However the “Cecelia Master,” active about 1300, deals ably with such
+  spatial problems. See O. Sirén, _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. XXXIV, p.
+  234, and XXXVI, p. 4. and _Giotto_, plates 11–13, Vol. II.
+
+Footnote 25:
+
+  _Sassetta._ Bernard Berenson. _A Painter of the Franciscan Legend_,
+  (Sassetta), London and New York, 1909.
+
+Footnote 26:
+
+  _Matteo di Giovanni._ We have the standard work of G. Hartlaub,
+  _Matteo da Siena_, Strassburg, 1910. Mr. Berenson in _Essays in the
+  Study of Sienese Painting_, New York, 1918, essay on Cozzarelli, has
+  made useful criticisms of the list of pictures usually ascribed to
+  Matteo.
+
+Footnote 27:
+
+  _Sodoma._ Hobart Cust, _Giovanni Antonio Bazzi, usually styled
+  “Sodoma,”_ New York, 1906.
+
+
+               CHAPTER III.—MASACCIO AND THE NEW REALISM
+
+On the general matter of the realists of the Early Renaissance not much
+has been added to Crowe and Cavalcaselle, but Mr. Berenson’s comment in
+_Florentine Painters_ and _Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance_
+is of high critical value. Vasari is interesting, but never more
+inaccurate than when dealing with this group. As usual the latest
+collected information is in Venturi. _Storia_, Vol. VII, part I, and
+elsewhere.
+
+Footnote 28:
+
+  Matteo Villani, _Istorie_, Florence, 1581, Lib. I, cap. iv, pp. 5–6.
+
+Footnote 29:
+
+  _Lorenzo Monaco._ The standard work is by O. Sirén, _Don Lorenzo
+  Monaco_, Strassburg, 1905.
+
+Footnote 30:
+
+  _Fra Angelico._ Langton Douglas. _Fra Angelico_, London and New York,
+  1900.
+
+  Vasari’s _Life_ is admirable and in essentials correct.
+
+Footnote 31:
+
+  _Masolino-Masaccio._ The summary in _C. & C._ (Douglas) Vol. IV;
+  (Hutton), Vol. II, reasonably brings the controversy up to date. The
+  latest review is by Dr. Richard Offner, _Art in America_, Vol. VIII,
+  pp. 68–76, _A St. Jerome by Masolino_. Dr. Offner, in _Dedalo_, Mar.,
+  1923, publishes a fine St. Julian, by Masolino, which reveals in a new
+  light that artist’s romantic temperamentalism. Mr. Berenson, l. c.,
+  publishes a predella piece for the same panel.
+
+  The large album of plates accompanying August H. Schmarsow’s
+  _Masaccio, der Begründer des Klassischen Stils_ &c. Kassel, 1900, is
+  indispensable to the serious student. It is available in the great
+  libraries. Cuts of all the works involved in the controversy are more
+  readily attainable in P. Toesca’s _Masolino da Panicale_, Bergamo,
+  1908, and in Venturi, _Storia_, Vol. VII, pt. I.
+
+Footnote 32:
+
+  The rider with his back turned at the left of the fresco of the
+  Calvary has a rondel protecting the nape of his neck. It is a
+  short-lived and unsuccessful invention which was not used before
+  1435–40. This information, which I owe to Dr. Bashford Dean of the
+  Metropolitan Museum, dates the Calvary well after Masaccio’s death,
+  and, inferentially, all the other frescoes in the same chapel.
+
+Footnote 33:
+
+  _Cassoni_ and other Furniture Panels. The standard work is by Paul
+  Schubring, _Cassoni_ &c. Leipzig, 1915.
+
+  Many of the examples in American Collections have been published and
+  discussed by William Rankin and myself in the _Burlington Magazine_,
+  Vol. VIII, IX. See also a popular sketch by me in _Arts and
+  Decoration_, Dec. ’05. The furnishing and decoration of a patrician
+  Florentine house in the 15th century is learnedly and delightfully
+  treated by A. Schiaparelli, _La Casa fiorentina_ &c., Florence, 1908.
+
+Footnote 34:
+
+  See my article in _Art in America_, Vol. VIII, p. 154, and in _Arts
+  and Decoration_, Note 6, above.
+
+Footnote 35:
+
+  _Masaccio_, bibliography in Note 4 above.
+
+  In essentials the view and chronology of Masaccio’s works here given
+  differs from Cavalcaselle’s only in relegating the frescoes in S.
+  Clemente to Masolino and their proper date in the late 30s or early
+  40s. In this I have been partially anticipated by Pietro Toesca,
+  _Masolino da Panicale_, Bergamo, 1908.
+
+  The reader may justly wish me to commit myself on this most disputed
+  question to the extent of a list. I give it in a tentative
+  chronological order assuming that Masaccio may have begun to work as
+  early as 1420.
+
+
+                _Early Works under Masolino’s influence_:
+
+  Madonna and Saints (fresco). Shrine at Montemarciano near S. Giovanni.
+  Pietà (fresco).   Cathedral, Empoli.
+  Miracle of healing by Christ (ruined by repainting). John C. Johnson
+     Coll., Philadelphia.
+  Madonna and St. Ann.   Uffizi, Florence.
+  Adam and Eve Tempted (fresco).   Brancacci Chapel.
+  Resuscitation of Tabitha (fresco).   Brancacci Chapel.
+
+
+                              _Later Works_:
+
+  St. Peter Preaching (fresco, possibly earlier). Brancacci Chapel.
+  Birth of St. John (salver). Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin.
+  Polyptych for the Carmine, Pisa, 1426.
+      The Madonna, some small pilaster pieces, and a small rondel with
+         bust of God Father. National Gallery, London.
+      Three predella panels (largely school work) and some small
+         pilaster pieces. Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin.
+      Crucifixion central pinnacle. Naples Museum.
+      A Saint (upper order). Civic Museum, Pisa.
+      A Saint (upper order). Lanckoronski, Vienna.
+  The Trinity (fresco). S. Maria Novella, Florence.
+  All the remaining frescoes of the Brancacci Chapel save the parts and
+     panels now universally assigned to Filippino Lippi.
+
+Footnote 36:
+
+  Schmarsow, _Masaccio Studien_, bd. 3. p. 27, 8.
+
+Footnote 37:
+
+  _Andrea del Castagno_, see the important articles by Herbert P. Horne
+  in the _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. VII, 1905. Richard Offner, in _Art
+  in America_, Vol. VII, pp. 227–35, first published the admirable
+  portrait in Mr. Morgan’s Library, New York. A magnificent tournament
+  shield with the figure of a David is in the Widener Collection, Elkins
+  Park, Penna., and was first published by Guido Cagnola in _Rassegna d’
+  Arte_, Vol. XIII (1913), p. 49.
+
+  Andrea worked at Venice in 1442. See G. Fiocca, _Burlington Magazine_,
+  Vol. XL, p. 11.
+
+Footnote 38:
+
+  _Alesso Baldovinetti._ See E. Londi, _Alesso Baldovinetti_, Firenze,
+  1907.
+
+
+       CHAPTER IV.—FRA FILIPPO LIPPI AND THE NEW NARRATIVE STYLE
+
+Footnote 39:
+
+  _Fra Filippo Lippi._ Edward C. Strutt, _Fra Filippo Lippi_, London,
+  1906. Vasari’s _Life_ is capital. Robert Browning’s poem, in _Men and
+  Women_, an admirable side-light.
+
+Footnote 40:
+
+  _Benozzo Gozzoli._ I accept Col. G. F. Young’s date for these
+  frescoes. See _The Medici_, New York, 1909, Vol. I., Chapter vii,
+  where there is a good analysis of this decoration.
+
+Footnote 41:
+
+  _Antonio Pollaiuolo._ Maud Crutwell’s _Antonio Pollaiuolo_, London and
+  New York, 1907. For later information consult Venturi, _Storia_, Vol.
+  VII, pt. I, pp. 558–578.
+
+Footnote 42:
+
+  _Piero della Francesca._ W. G. Waters, _Piero della Francesca_,
+  London, 1901; and Corrado Ricci’s superbly illustrated folio, _Piero
+  della Francesca_, Rome, 1910.
+
+Footnote 43:
+
+  _Early Frescoes of the Sistine Chapel._ Magnificently reproduced in
+  the album accompanying Ernst Steinmann’s _Die Sixtinische Cappelle_,
+  Munich, 1901.
+
+Footnote 44:
+
+  _Francesco Pesellino._ Consult Dr. W. Weisbach’s able and beautifully
+  illustrated work, _Francesco Pesellino und die Romantik der
+  Frührenaissance_, Berlin, 1901. For cuts of _Cassoni_, Paul Schubring,
+  _Cassoni_, Leipzig, 1915, and the books and articles already cited in
+  note 6 to Chapter 3.
+
+Footnote 45:
+
+  _Domenico Ghirlandaio._ A copious and satisfactory life is that of
+  Gerald S. Davies, _Ghirlandaio_, London and New York, 1909. Briefer
+  but of greater cultural scope is Ghirlandaio, by Henri Hauvette,
+  Paris, “Les maîtres de l’art.” For a summary criticism my article in
+  _The Nation_ (N. Y.), Aug. 20, 1908, p. 167. Ruskin’s famous assault
+  on Ghirlandaio in _Mornings in Florence_ is joyous reading if
+  whimsically exaggerated.
+
+
+              CHAPTER V.—BOTTICELLI AND LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+Footnote 46:
+
+  _Botticelli._ The standard work is Herbert P. Horne, _Sandro
+  Botticelli_, London, 1908. A little additional information may be
+  found in Crowe and Cavalcaselle, _A History of Painting in Italy_,
+  Hutton Ed. Vol. II, and in Venturi, _Storia dell’ Arte Italiana_, Vol.
+  VII, pt. 1.
+
+  Walter Pater’s essay in _The Renaissance_ offers beautifully a
+  one-sided view. The essays, the _Soul of a Fact_, and
+  _Quattrocentisteria_, in Maurice Hewlett’s _Earthwork out of Tuscany_
+  are poetically illuminative. Mr. Berenson’s analysis in _Florentine
+  Painters of the Renaissance_ is important. I have written more fully
+  on Botticelli in _Estimates in Art_, New York, 1912.
+
+  Botticelli’s Dante illustrations are published in a cheaper and more
+  sumptuous form by Friedrich P. Lippmann. _Botticelli, Zeichnungen von
+  Sandro Botticelli_, Berlin, 1896.
+
+  Lists of Botticelli’s works differ considerably. I incline to accept a
+  number of early paintings which are neglected by such exclusive
+  critics as Berenson and Horne. My own list, which for reasons of space
+  cannot be given here, would not differ much from that of A. Venturi,
+  in _Storia_ VII, i, 588–642.
+
+Footnote 47:
+
+  _Filippino Lippi._ I. B. Supino, _Les deux Lippi_, Firenze, 1904.
+
+Footnote 48:
+
+  _Piero di Cosimo._ Fritz Knapp, _Piero di Cosimo_, Halle, 1899. As
+  usual later information in Venturi, _Storia_, Vol. VII, pt. 1.
+
+Footnote 49:
+
+  This extraordinary series of which four have been recovered is fully
+  discussed and somewhat differently interpreted by Roger E. Fry, in
+  _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. XXXVIII, p. 131_f._ See also letter on
+  page 257.
+
+Footnote 50:
+
+  _Leonardo da Vinci._ The standard life is by W. von Seidlitz,
+  _Leonardo da Vinci_, Berlin, 1909. The early work of Leonardo and his
+  relations with Verrocchio have been thoroughly and lucidly analyzed by
+  Jens Thys, _Leonardo da Vinci_, London, 1913. Amid the confusingly
+  rich bibliography, the student may do well to stick to Vasari’s
+  admirable _Life_ in any of the translations, to Dr. O. Sirén’s
+  scholarly and cautious book _Leonardo da Vinci_, New Haven, and
+  London, 1916 and to the late Dr. J. P. Richter’s incomparable work
+  “The Literary Works of Leonardo da Vinci,” London, 1883, obtainable
+  only in libraries. Giovanni Poggi, _Leonardo da Vinci_, Firenze, 1919,
+  has thoroughly edited Vasari’s _Life_, and should be consulted for
+  latest views and for illustrations. My own view on the early
+  development of Leonardo, a most disputed matter, is set forth more
+  fully in _Art and Archæology_, Vol. IV. pp. 111–122.
+
+  For literary side-lights Walter Pater’s essay, in _The Renaissance_;
+  for an iconoclastic view Berenson in _Study and Criticism of Italian
+  Art_, Fourth Series, New York, 1920. Edward McCurdy’s selected
+  translations from _The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci_, New York,
+  1906, are valuable for those to whom Richter is inaccessible.
+  Leonardo’s drawings, which are no less important than his paintings,
+  may best be approached through Mr. Berenson’s monumental work, _The
+  Drawings of the Florentine Painters_, New York and London, 1903, while
+  the drawings before 1480 are clearly and ably discussed by Dr. Thys.
+
+Footnote 51:
+
+  The capital mistake of the more exclusive critics of Leonardo’s early
+  work is that they set this delightful little masterpiece at the
+  beginning of the series in an impossibly early date. There is no such
+  manipulation of paint and no such feeling for unity of landscape
+  before 1475 or so. Being a revision of the design of the Uffizi
+  Annunciation, it is necessarily later.
+
+  My list of Leonardo’s would include, in approximate order:
+
+   1. In Verocchio’s Baptism. The landscape at left and distance, the
+        Angel kneeling to right, about 1470, Uffizi.
+
+   2. Madonna and Child with an Angel, design by Verrocchio, London.
+
+   3. The Annunciation, design mostly by Verrocchio, about 1475, Uffizi.
+
+   4. Portrait of a Girl, possibly a Verrocchio, Prince Liechtenstein,
+        Vienna.
+
+   5. Annunciation, Louvre.
+
+   6. Benois Madonna, about 1478–9, Petrograd.
+
+   7. St. Jerome, unfinished, Vatican, Rome.
+
+   8. Adoration of the Magi, left unfinished about 1481, Uffizi.
+
+   9. Cartoon of St. Ann, Burlington House, London.
+
+  10. Madonna of the Rocks, between 1480–83, Paris.
+
+  11. So-called Belle Ferronnière, perhaps bottega piece, about 1490,
+        Paris.
+
+  12. Girl with an Ermine, perhaps a bottega piece, about 1495, Cracow.
+
+  13. Clay model of the Sforza horse, destroyed in 1500.
+
+  14. Last Supper, 1498, Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan.
+
+  15. Cartoon for a St. Ann, lost but represented by sketches at Venice,
+        1503.
+
+  16. Madonna of the Distaff, represented by old copies.
+
+  17. Cartoon for Battle of Anghiari, only central group painted, partly
+        represented by sketches and old copies, 1504.
+
+  18. Portrait of Mona Lisa, Paris.
+
+  19. Cartoon for a standing Leda, probably only the figure, since
+        numerous old copies have widely varying accessories.
+
+  20. Madonna of the Rocks, 1507, London.
+
+  21. Cartoon for a Kneeling Leda, the figure only. Sketches and old
+        copies.
+
+  22. Madonna and St. Ann, Paris.
+
+  23. St. John, half-length, Paris.
+
+  All Leonardo’s main activity as a painter lies from 1470–1500. He
+  painted a picture about every two years.
+
+  Various sculptures have been ascribed to Leonardo. Of these only two,
+  which will have been made in Verrocchio’s _bottega_ and under his
+  direction, seem to me to deserve the distinction. A terra cotta
+  Madonna and Child in the Metropolitan Museum, there ascribed to
+  Verrocchio’s school, may represent Leonardo’s modelling about 1465. A
+  stucco Madonna owned by Mr. George Diblee, at Oxford, is perhaps ten
+  years later. The first is discussed by me in _Art and Archaeology_,
+  Vol. IV, p. 122; the second is reproduced and accepted as a Leonardo
+  by Prof. A. Venturi in _L’ Arte_, Vol. XXV, p. 131.
+
+Footnote 52:
+
+  The best study of this picture and of its contemporary influence is
+  that of George Gronau in _Zeitschrift für bildende Kunst_. N. F. Vol.
+  XXIII, pp. 253–259. He fails to perceive that so primitive a picture
+  as late as 1478 furnishes the best reason for accepting most of the
+  rejected early Leonardos.
+
+Footnote 53:
+
+  In all this matter Jens Thys’s admirable studies are indispensable.
+  See note 5 above.
+
+Footnote 54:
+
+  The Lady and the Ermine and the Belle Ferronnière are thoroughly
+  discussed by H. Ochenkowski, _Burlington Magazine_, Vol. XXXIV, p. 186
+  _f._, where a full bibliography will be found.
+
+Footnote 55:
+
+  This error which has persisted since Vasari was finally corrected by
+  the great restorer Cavenaghi in his report of the last restoration.
+  Malaguzzi Valeri in _Milano_, Bergamo, 1906, pt. 2, p. 14, first
+  advanced the correct view that the painting was done in tempera.
+
+Footnote 56:
+
+  Kenyon Cox, _Concerning Painting_, New York, 1917, p. 73.
+
+Footnote 57:
+
+  _Fra Bartolommeo._ The standard work is Fritz Knapp’s _Fra Bartolommeo
+  della Porta_, Halle, 1903. H. v. d. Gablentz, _Fra Bartolommeo_ in 2
+  vols., Leipzig, 1922.
+
+Footnote 58:
+
+  _Andrea del Sarto._ H. Guinness, _Andrea del Sarto_, London and New
+  York, 1901. Andrea’s drawings are finely analyzed by Bernard Berenson
+  in _The Drawings of the Florentine Painters_.
+
+Footnote 59:
+
+  _Bronzino._ Hans Schulze, _Die Werke Angelo Bronzino’s_, Strassburg,
+  1911.
+
+Footnote 60:
+
+  _Pontormo._ We have two admirable books by the same writer, Dr. F. M.
+  Clapp; _Les Dessins de Pontormo_, Paris, 1914; _Pontormo, his Life and
+  Work_, New Haven, 1916.
+
+  Pontormo’s supreme masterpiece of portraiture, The Halberdier, is
+  published by myself in _Art in America_, Vol. X, p. 66.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE HIGH RENAISSANCE. The indispensable books are, for leading ideas, J.
+C. Burckhardt, _Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy_, New York,
+1890; for the stylistic development in Art, H. Wölfflin, _The Art of the
+Italian Renaissance_, New York, 1913. Very valuable for history and
+biography are J. Addington Symonds’s _The Renaissance in Italy_, 5
+Vols., London; and H. O. Taylor’s _Thought and Expression in the
+Sixteenth Century_, New York, 1920. For Renaissance ideals of nobility
+and moderation the capital contemporary work is _Il Cortegiano_, by
+Baldassare Castiglione, translated as _The Courtier_ by L. E. Opdycke,
+New York, 1905. For stylistic analysis Berenson’s introductions to
+_Florentine Painters_, and to _Central Italian Painters of the
+Renaissance_, are suggestive and important.
+
+Footnote 61:
+
+  _Gentile da Fabriano._ A. Colasanti, _Gentile da Fabriano_. Bergamo,
+  1909. Also my Essay review. _The Nation_, Vol. 89 (1909) pp. 168–170.
+
+Footnote 62:
+
+  _Andrea da Bologna._ _The Nation_ (N. Y.) Vol. 95. (1912) p. 392.
+
+Footnote 63:
+
+  _Fifteenth Century Umbrians._ Walter Rothes, in _Anfänge ... der
+  Alt-Umbrischen Malerschulen_, Strassburg, 1908, gives excellent
+  illustrations for the Early Umbrian Artists. Also for cuts, U. Gnoli,
+  _La Mostra Umbra_, Bergamo.
+
+Footnote 64:
+
+  _Melozzo da Forlì._ A. Schmarsow, _Melozzo da Forlì_, Berlin, 1886,
+  and C. Ricci, _Melozzo da Forlì_, Rome, 1911, are the standard works.
+
+Footnote 65:
+
+  _Luca Signorelli._ Maud Crutwell, _Luca Signorelli_, London, 1901. See
+  Venturi, vii, as usual.
+
+Footnote 66:
+
+  _Pietro Perugino._ Venturi, _Storia_, Vol. VII, pt. 2, ch. v, makes
+  Perugino the direct pupil of Piero della Francesca, ascribing to
+  Perugino many pictures formerly ascribed to Fiorenzo di Lorenzo. The
+  view while attractive is not wholly convincing to me. All of
+  Perugino’s works are published in _Klassiker der Kunst_, No. XXV,
+  Stuttgart, 1914. The best general estimate of Perugino is that of
+  Wölfflin and of Berenson, in _Central Italian Painters_.
+
+Footnote 67:
+
+  The _Cambio_ frescoes. While it is inherently likely that Raphael
+  worked on these frescoes, Prof. Venturi’s plea for Raphael’s
+  authorship of God, the Prophets and Sibyls, _Storia_, Vol. VII, pt. 2,
+  p. 828 _ff._ depends largely on the shaky evidence of drawings
+  attributed arbitrarily to Raphael.
+
+  RAPHAEL AND MICHELANGELO. From the point of view of pure style the
+  best treatment of these artists and of the High Renaissance is that of
+  Heinrich Wölfflin in _The Art of the Italian Renaissance_, New York,
+  1913. It is a book that every student should read and if possible own.
+  Mr. Berenson’s treatment of space composition, in the introduction to
+  _Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance_, is perhaps his finest
+  achievement in criticism.
+
+Footnote 68:
+
+  _Raphael._ Hermann Grimm’s two volume _Life of Raphael_ is still
+  valuable for background. Among the numerous popular books in English
+  none is outstanding. Henry Strachey’s _Raphael_, in “Great Masters of
+  Art,” is good, and so are Julia Cartwright’s two monographs: _The
+  Early Work of Raphael_ and _Raphael in Rome_, in the _Portfolio
+  Series_, London, 1895.
+
+        For Raphael’s participation in the frescoes of the Cambio it
+  seems to me that Professor Venturi, in _Storia dell’ Arte Italiana_,
+  Vol. VII, part 2, makes out only a plausible case.
+
+        Reproductions of all of Raphael’s works in _Klassiker der
+  Kunst_, No. I., _Raphael_, Stuttgart and Leipzig.
+
+        Among the innumerable essays on Raphael none is more
+  understanding than John La Farge’s, in _Great Masters_, New York,
+  1903.
+
+Footnote 69:
+
+  _Michelangelo._ The best source for the study of Michelangelo,
+  painter, is the superb plates in Ernst Steinmann’s _Die Sixtinische
+  Cappelle_, Munich, 1901. Among recent short biographies that of
+  Charles Holroyd, _Michelangelo_, London and New York, 1911 and Romain
+  Rolland (a longer study, _The Life of Michelangelo_, New York, 1912; a
+  different and shorter work, _Michelangelo, a Study, &c._, New York,
+  1915) are perhaps the best. The two volume biographies by Hermann
+  Grimm and by J. Addington Symonds are valuable, especially for
+  historical background. But the reader may be wise to content himself
+  with one of the brief biographies and such contemporary lives as
+  Vasari’s, Ascanio Condivi’s, and Francesco d’Olanda’s. The two latter
+  are translated in Holroyd’s book. The drawings of Michelangelo are
+  admirably discussed and presented in a perfect selection by Mr.
+  Berenson in _The Drawings of the Florentine Painters_. The drawings
+  are chronologically arranged and beautifully reproduced by Karl Frey,
+  _Die Handzeichnungen Michelangelo’s_, 2 vols., Berlin, 1911. W. R.
+  Valentiner treats _The Late Years of Michelangelo_ (New York, 1914)
+  with insight, devoting himself chiefly to the more finished drawings.
+  For a brief yet comprehensive survey, John La Farge in _Great
+  Masters_, New York, 1903. The works are completely reproduced in
+  _Klassiker der Kunst_, No. VII. _Michelangelo_, Stuttgart and Leipzig.
+
+
+                  CHAPTER VII.—EARLY VENETIAN PAINTING
+
+Footnote 70:
+
+  Little literature of a general sort is available to the English
+  speaking reader. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, _A History of Painting in
+  Northern Italy_, admirably edited by Tancred Borenius, in three
+  volumes, London, 1913, is the chief repository of facts. Evelyn March
+  Phillipps, _The Venetian School of Painting_, London, 1912, is an
+  excellent brief survey. For readers of Italian Lionello Venturi’s _Le
+  Origini della Pittura Veneziana_, Venice, 1911, is the best book. A
+  treasure house of materials in Laudadeo Testi’s two volumes, _La
+  Storia della Pittura Veneziana_, Bergamo. John Ruskin’s masterpiece,
+  _Stones of Venice_, may be consulted with profit and delight. There
+  are treasures of antiquarian information in Pompeo Molmenti, _La
+  Storia di Venezia nella Vita Privata_, 3 vols., Bergamo, 1905.
+
+Footnote 71:
+
+  _Jacopo Bellini._ The extraordinary and fascinating sketch books are
+  published in two forms, by Corrado Ricci, _Jacopo Bellini e i suo
+  libri di designi_, 2 vols., Florence, 1908, and by V. Goloubew, _Les
+  Dessins de Jacopo Bellini_, Bruxelles, 1908.
+
+Footnote 72:
+
+  G. McNeill Rushforth, _Carlo Crivelli_, London, 1900.
+
+Footnote 73:
+
+  _Andrea Mantegna._ The standard work is by Paul Kristeller, _Andrea
+  Mantegna_, London and New York, 1901. Maud Crutwell’s short biography,
+  _Andrea Mantegna_, London, 1901, is excellent. Mr. Berenson’s subtle
+  analysis in _North Italian Painters of the Renaissance_ perhaps
+  overstresses Andrea’s defects. Mantegna’s complete works are
+  reproduced in _Klassiker der Kunst_, No. XVI, Stuttgart, 1910.
+
+Footnote 74:
+
+  _Antonello da Messina._ See L. Venturi, _Le Origini_, and A. Venturi,
+  _Storia_, VII, pt. 4. Recent attributions, Bernard Berenson, _Study
+  and Criticism of Italian Art_, 3rd Series, London, 1916, p. 79 _ff._
+
+Footnote 75:
+
+  _Giovanni Bellini._ Nothing notable in English except casual criticism
+  by Ruskin and Roger E. Fry’s admirable little book, _Giovanni
+  Bellini_, London, 1899, which is unfortunately out of print. For such
+  as read German—Georg Gronau, _Die Künstler-familie Bellini_, Leipzig,
+  1907, with abundant illustrations. Recently discovered pictures and a
+  better chronology, in Bernard Berenson: _Venetian Painting in
+  America_, New York, 1916.
+
+Footnote 76:
+
+  _Vettor Carpaccio._ Ludwig and Molmenti’s _The Life and Works of
+  Victor Carpaccio_, London, 1907, gives, aside from its main topic, a
+  vivid picture of the cultural condition of Venice about 1500. See my
+  essay review of it in _The Nation_, Vol. 86, (1908) pp. 315 _ff._ John
+  Ruskin’s delightful comments on Carpaccio are mostly in the _Guide to
+  the Academy_ at Venice and in _St. Mark’s Rest_, chapter _The Shrine
+  of the Slaves_, Library ed. Vol. XXIV.
+
+Footnote 77:
+
+  _Giorgione._ For the smallest list L. Venturi, _Giorgione e il
+  Giorgionismo_, Milan, 1913; for the longest list Herbert Cook,
+  _Giorgione_; for a middle view L. Justi, _Giorgione_, 2 vols., Berlin,
+  1908, most useful plates.
+
+  The general conditions of the problem are clearly stated by the late
+  Richard Norton in _Bernini and other Studies_, New York, 1914. L.
+  Hourticq, in _La Jeunesse de Titien_, Paris, 1919, has lately worked
+  over the pictures which lie between Titian and Giorgione in an
+  interesting but highly subjective fashion. Kenyon Cox, _Art in
+  America_, Vol. I, pp. 115 _ff._, makes the plausible suggestion that
+  the several portraits signed V or VV are by Titian, the letters
+  meaning Vecellius Venetus. This would make the Berlin portrait a
+  Titian.
+
+  Walter Pater’s essay on _The School of Giorgione_, in _The
+  Renaissance_ is as masterly for insight as it is for verbal beauty.
+
+  I hesitate to add one more to the varying opinions concerning
+  Giorgione’s paintings. At least I may introduce a novelty by classing
+  them according to probability, or rather according to the completeness
+  of my own conviction. In the whole matter we are largely in the field
+  of taste and opinion. E means early.
+
+
+                  _Paintings, m. j. surely by Giorgione_
+
+  1. The Shepherds finding the Infant Paris (repainted fragment, E)
+  Budapest
+
+  2. “The Soldier and the Gipsy” E. Prince Giovanelli
+
+  3. Madonna with St. Francis and St. George (1504) Castelfranco
+
+  4. The Three Philosophers (finished by Sebastiano del Piombo) Vienna
+
+  5. Orpheus and Eurydice (_cassone_ panel) Bergamo
+
+  6. The Sleeping Venus (landscape by Titian) Dresden
+
+  7. Fresco of Nude Woman, nearly effaced (1508), represented by
+  Zanetti’s print Fondaco de’ Tedeschi
+
+  8. Judith (cut down at sides) Petrograd
+
+  9. His own Portrait (much cut down and damaged) Brunswick
+
+  10. Christ with his Cross Church of S. Rocco
+
+  11. The Concert (finished by Titian? or repainted in his manner?)
+  Florence
+
+
+  _Paintings probably by Giorgione._ I accept these, but do not think
+  the evidence demonstrative.
+
+  12–13. Stories of the Infant Paris (two _cassone_ panels, E.) Sir
+  Martin Conway, Allington Castle, Maidstone, England
+
+  14. The Fire Ordeal of Moses (door panel, E.) Florence
+
+  15. The Judgment of Solomon (door panel, E.) Florence
+
+  16. Christ bearing his Cross, E. Fenway Court, Boston.
+
+  17. Homage to a Poet, E. London
+
+  18. Portrait of a Young Man (possibly an early Titian) Berlin
+
+  19. Boy With an Arrow (old copy?) Vienna
+
+  20. Shepherd with a Flute Hampton Court
+
+  21. David with Goliath’s Head (copy? or ruined original?) Vienna
+
+  22. Altar-piece of St. John Chrysostom (mostly executed by Sebastiano
+  del Piombo) S. Giovanni Crisostomo
+
+  23. The Pastoral Symphony (radically repainted in recent times.) Paris
+
+  24. Portrait of a Man New York
+
+
+  This list might still be extended by half a dozen numbers by including
+  pictures which may represent lost originals by Giorgione, but here we
+  are in a field too subjective for profitable discussion in a handbook.
+
+  _Pictures generally ascribed to Giorgione, I think erroneously._
+
+  The Knight of Malta (probably a Titian about 1515) Florence
+
+  Portrait of Broccardo Budapest
+
+  Storm Calmed by St. Mark (probably a Palma) Venice
+
+  Judgment of Solomon (Hourticq plausibly regards as copy of lost fresco
+  by Titian) Banks Coll., Kingston Lacy
+
+  Madonna with St. Antony and St. Roch (probably a Titian) Madrid
+
+  Portrait of a Woman Casino Borghese, Rome
+
+  The reason for excluding such works is their over-pathetic or
+  over-dramatic quality. The argument applies especially to the
+  Adulteress before Christ at Glasgow. Corroborative technical evidence
+  against this group may be found in L. Venturi’s excellent monograph.
+
+
+           CHAPTER VIII.—TITIAN AND THE VENETIAN RENAISSANCE
+
+On the Venetian Renaissance in general we have the works cited at the
+head of Notes for Chapter VII and for biographies and lists D. V.
+Hadeln, new ed. Ridolfi, _Le Maraviglie dell’ Arte_, Berlin, 1914. A
+brief survey by the late Kenyon Cox, in _Concerning Painting_, New York,
+1917, pp. 98–132, is valuable.
+
+Footnote 78:
+
+  _Titian._ Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s _The Life and Times of Titian_, in
+  2 vols., London, 1881, is still the fullest repository of information.
+  Georg Gronau’s popular but carefully done _Titian_, London and New
+  York, 1904, takes account of later documentary discoveries. As a
+  painter’s analysis of technical aims Charles Rickett’s _Titian_,
+  London, 1910, is noteworthy. Nearly all of Titian’s works are
+  published in _Klassiker der Kunst_, No. III, Stuttgart, 1906. Several
+  newly discovered pictures are reproduced in the recent volumes,
+  1918–22, of the _Burlington Magazine_, _Art in America_, and
+  _Zeitschrift für bildende Kunst_.
+
+Footnote 79:
+
+  _Titian’s Age._ All the available material on this disputed matter is
+  offered by Mr. Herbert Cook and Dr. George Gronau in a controversy
+  printed as appendices to Cook’s _Giorgione_, London, 1907. The early
+  evidence is very conflicting.
+
+    Writing in 1557   Dolce implies    Titian was born about  1489
+       „    „  1566–7 Vasari             „     „   „     „    1489
+       „    „  1564   A Spanish Envoy          „   „     „    1474
+       „    „  1567   A Spanish Consul         „   „     „    1482
+       „    „  1571   Titian himself     „     „   „     „    1477
+       „    „  1584   Borghini           „     „   „     „   1478–9
+
+  Writing in 1545 and 1548 Titian refers to his old age and disabilities
+  (Cook, p. 141 note), expressions more natural if he was sixty-eight
+  and seventy-one than they would be if he were only fifty-six and
+  fifty-nine.
+
+  Mr. Cook’s theory that Titian and his Spanish official friends grossly
+  exaggerated his age to secure prompter remittances from the Emperor
+  seems to me gratuitous and flimsy. Dr. Gronau convinces me that
+  neither Dolce nor Vasari can be regarded as serious witnesses. L.
+  Hourticq in _La Jeunesse de Titien_, Paris, 1919, adds next to nothing
+  to Cook in maintaining the later date for Titian’s birth.
+
+  The whole weight of evidence points to the fact that Titian told the
+  broad truth about his age, perhaps, indulging in a round number. I am
+  sure he was well over ninety when he described himself as ninety-five
+  in the letter of 1571, and that he died all but a centenarian.
+
+Footnote 80:
+
+  Pietro d’Achiardi, _Sebastiano de Piombo_, Roma, 1908.
+
+Footnote 81:
+
+  Max von Boehn, _Giorgione und Palma Vecchio_, Leipzig, 1908.
+
+Footnote 82:
+
+  Bernard Berenson, _Lorenzo Lotto_, London, 1905. Comprises also
+  careful studies of Alvise Vivarini, Cima, Montagna and other Venetic
+  painters. In _The Study and Criticism of Italian Art_, 3rd series,
+  London, 1916, the superb Saint Justine of the Valsecchi Collection is
+  rightly restored to Giovanni Bellini, l.c. p. 38 _ff._
+
+Footnote 83:
+
+  _Correggio._ The standard work, C. Ricci, _Antonio Allegri da
+  Coreggio_, New York, 1896. A delightful critical study, T. Sturge
+  Moore, _Correggio_, London and New York, 1906. The complete works in
+  _Klassiker der Kunst_, No. XVII, Stuttgart.
+
+  A new and convincing view of Correggio’s date of birth and early
+  development in Venturi, _Storia_, Vol. VII, pt. iii, pp. 1152 _ff._
+
+Footnote 84:
+
+  Evelyn March Phillipps, _Tintoretto_, London, 1911. Many of the
+  extraordinary tempera sketches are reproduced in the _Burlington
+  Magazine_ for January and February, 1910. H. Thode, _Tintoretto_,
+  Leipzig, 1901.
+
+  Many eloquent criticisms by Ruskin in _Modern Painters_ and _Stones of
+  Venice_ (see indices) and in the _Guide to the Academy at Venice_,
+  Library ed. Vol. XXIV.
+
+Footnote 85:
+
+  _Paolo Veronese._ See Kenyon Cox’s masterly essay in _Old Masters and
+  New_, New York.
+
+Footnote 86:
+
+  _G. B. Tiepolo._ The standard work is by Pompeo Molmenti. _G. B.
+  Tiepolo_, Milan, 1909.
+
+Footnote 87:
+
+  G. A. Simonson. _Francesco Guardi_, London, 1905. Numerous additions
+  by the same author in the _Burlington Magazine_ for succeeding years.
+
+
+                 CHAPTER IX.—THE REALISTS AND ECLECTICS
+
+On this period there is little available literature in English, but
+there are excellent sketches of most of the artists treated in this
+chapter in C. Ricci, _Art in Northern Italy_, New York, 1911.
+
+A. Pératé in A. Michel, _Histoire de l’Art_, Vol. Vª, gives a fuller
+summary.
+
+Footnote 88:
+
+  _Caravaggio._ W. Kallab, Austrian _Jahrbuch_, Vol. XXVI (1906), p. 272
+  _ff._, brief illustrated essay. Felix Witting, _Michelangelo da
+  Caravaggio_, Strassburg, 1916.
+
+Footnote 89:
+
+  _Salvator Rosa._ Lady Morgan, _The Life and Times of Salvator Rosa_,
+  in two vols., Paris, 1824. Leandro Ozzola, _Vita e opere di Salvator
+  Rosa_, Strassburg, 1908.
+
+  The passages translated in the text are from Bottari, _Raccolta di
+  lettere sulla Pittura_ &c., Vol. I, pp. 447, 450 _f._, Milan, 1822.
+
+Footnote 90:
+
+  _The Carracci._ The fundamental source is Carlo Cesare Malvasia’s
+  highly contentious and anecdotal work _Felsina Pittrice_; I have used
+  the two volume edition, Milan, 1841.
+
+  Gabriel Rouchès, _La Peinture Bolonaise à la Fin du XVI^e Siècle_,
+  Paris, 1913, is the standard work on the Eclectic School. On the
+  landscape of this school, which is highly important as preparatory to
+  Claude and Poussin, Rouchès has two remarkable essays in _Gazette des
+  Beaux Arts_, 5^e période Tome, III. (Jan. and Feb. nos. 1921) pp. 7
+  _ff._, and 119 _ff._
+
+  Hans Tietze, in Austrian _Jahrbuch_, Vol. XXVI (1906) p. 51 _ff._,
+  _Annibale Carracci’s Galerie im Palazzo Farnese und seine Römische
+  Werkstätte_—a very thorough and richly illustrated monograph on the
+  Carracci, including such scholars as Francesco Albani, and
+  Domenichino.
+
+Footnote 91:
+
+  _Guido Reni._ Max von Boehn, _Guido Reni_, Leipzig, 1910, fully
+  illustrated.
+
+Footnote 92:
+
+  _Domenichino._ Luigi Serra, _Domenico Zampieri detto Domenichino_,
+  Rome, 1909. Also Tietze’s article, above, note 3.
+
+
+
+
+                           HINTS FOR READING
+
+
+COMPREHENSIVE HISTORIES OF ITALIAN PAINTING. For English speaking
+readers the greatest resource for reference is Crowe and Cavalcaselle,
+_A New History of Painting in Italy_, which covers the Central Italian
+field up to about 1500. I prefer the three volume edition by Edward
+Hutton, published by J. M. Dent and Co., London; and E. P. Dutton, New
+York, (1908–9) to the fuller six-volume edition annotated by Langton
+Douglas and published conjointly by the Murrays of London and the
+Scribners of New York. For the North Italian field Crowe and
+Cavalcaselle’s _History of Painting in Northern Italy_, re-edited in
+three volumes by Tancred Borenius, John Murray-Charles Scribner’s Sons,
+1912, is indispensable. Both works are ordinarily cited as “C. & C.” The
+Italian articles in A. Michel’s _Histoire de l’Art_, Paris, are
+excellent.
+
+MANUALS. Bernard Berenson’s four Handbooks, _Venetian Painters of the
+Renaissance_, _Florentine Painters of the Renaissance_, _Central Italian
+Painters of the Renaissance_, and _Northern Italian Painters of the
+Renaissance_, New York and London, G. P. Putnam and Sons, are uniquely
+useful. Each contains a thorough critical discussion and lists of the
+works of the more important painters. The latest editions should be
+used.
+
+_A Short History of Italian Painting_, by Alice van Vechten Brown and
+William Rankin, Dent-Dutton, 1914, offers brilliant, if uneven,
+characterizations and able summaries of contested points.
+
+TECHNIQUE. Consult the delightful _The Book of Art by Cennino Cennini_,
+edited by Christiana J. Herringham, London: George Allen, 1922, for
+methods of painting in tempera and fresco.
+
+BIOGRAPHY. Giorgio Vasari’s picturesque _Lives of the Painters_ may most
+profitably be read in the translation of Gaston DuC. de Vere, in ten
+volumes, London: Philip Lee Warner; New York: The Macmillan Company.
+There are many color-prints. The matter is available inexpensively in
+the handy “Everyman’s Library.” Mrs. Ady, “Julia Cartwright,” has
+epitomized the chief lives agreeably, with necessary corrections, in
+_The Painters of Florence_, E. P. Dutton and Company, 1916.
+
+PERIODICALS. The reader may most profitably cultivate the habit of
+paging over the files of _The Burlington Magazine_ and _Art in America_,
+_Rassegna d’Arte_ and _L’Arte_, which contain good reproductions of many
+fine Italian pictures in private collections.
+
+HISTORICAL BACKGROUND. Excellent the many Italian Chapters in Henry
+Osborn Taylor’s _The Mediaeval Mind_, in two volumes, The Macmillan
+Company, 1911. For Florentine conditions consult Guido Biagi, _Men and
+Manners of Old Florence_, Chicago, A. C. McClurg and Company, 1909, and
+_The Builders of Florence_, by J. Wood Brown, London, Methuen and
+Company, 1907.
+
+PHOTOGRAPHS, etc. The ideal way to use a handbook would be to skim it
+before visiting a great European gallery and to reread it carefully
+while the impression of the pictures themselves was still vivid. But the
+student must also depend much on photographic reproductions. For Italy
+those of Messrs. Alinari at Florence and of Dominick Anderson at Rome
+are comprehensive, finely made, and remarkably cheap. Alinari has most
+of the Italian paintings of the Louvre and Dresden Gallery; Anderson,
+those of the Prado, Madrid, and National Gallery, London. The
+collections of Hanfstaengl and of Bruckmann, Munich, cover most of the
+galleries of Northern and Central Europe. Photographs of the Italian
+pictures in the Metropolitan Museum, New York; the Museum of Fine Arts,
+Boston; the Fogg Museum, Cambridge, Mass., and the Jarves Collection,
+Yale University, New Haven, Conn., may be purchased from those museums.
+Besides these four main collections of Italian pictures in America, that
+of the New York Historical Society, New York, and of Mrs. John L.
+Gardner, Fenway Court, Boston, occasionally open to the public, are
+noteworthy. The art museums of Worcester, Mass., Providence, R. I.,
+Cleveland, O., Indianapolis, Detroit, Chicago and Minneapolis have
+Italian pictures of quality. There is something in the Wilstach Gallery,
+Philadelphia, and whenever the John G. Johnson Collection shall be
+worthily exhibited, Philadelphia will be rich indeed in Italian art. The
+student should not fail to utilize such local resources, however slight
+they may seem, for one minor original thoroughly enjoyed is worth days
+of poring over reproductions.
+
+For students who cannot afford a considerable number of photographs the
+_University Prints_, Newton, Mass., afford a tolerable substitute. For
+quick reference the numerous cuts in Venturi’s monumental _Storia dell’
+Arte Italiana_, Milan, Ulrico Hoepli, are very useful. The halftones in
+the “Künstler Monografien,” Leipzig, Velhagen and Klasing, and the
+larger prints in the “Klassiker der Kunst,” Stuttgart and Leipzig, serve
+a similar purpose. Details may be had from any importing bookseller.
+
+
+
+
+                                 INDEX
+
+
+Where an artist has a family name, that is the indexed word, e.g.,
+Bellini, Giovanni. Where there is no surname, the Christian name is
+used, e.g., Nardo di Cione, Andrea da Bologna. So is the Christian name
+the index word when an apparent surname is really only descriptive of
+birthplace or civil estate, e.g., Domenico Veneziano, Lorenzo Monaco. In
+the case of well-known artists, the most familiar name is employed,
+e.g., Angelico, Fra; Giorgione, Titian, Perugino, Raphael, Andrea del
+Sarto, Pontormo, Botticelli, Michelangelo, etc.
+
+ Academic, light and shade, Leonardo, 226;
+   theory of generalization, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 318;
+   of selection and Belle Nature, Leonardo, 258;
+   L. Dolce, 445
+
+ Altar, as shrine and tomb, influence on subjects of painting, 7
+
+ Alunno (Niccolò Liberatore), 273
+
+ Andrea da Bologna, 271
+
+ Andrea del Castagno, 146–147, 201
+
+ Andrea del Sarto, 248–253
+
+ Angelico of Fiesole, Fra, 112, 114–122, 267
+
+ Antonello da Messina, 345–348, 355, 360
+
+ Antonio da Negroponte, 335
+
+ Ariosto, list of greatest painters, 385
+
+
+ Baldovinetti, Alesso, 148;
+   an official appraisal of his frescoes, 153
+
+ Barna of Siena, 88, 89
+
+ Bartolo di Fredi, 86
+
+ Baroque decorative painting, derives from Mantegna, 337, 340–341;
+   Correggio, 340, 415–416;
+   Tiepolo, 442;
+   Influence of Catholic Reaction on mood of, 459
+
+ Bartolommeo, Fra (Baccio della Porta), 246, 247–248, 282, 290
+
+ Bartolommeo della Gatta, Don, 177
+
+ Bellini, Gentile, 348–352, 364
+
+ Bellini, Giovanni, 324, 352–362, 369
+
+ Bellini, Jacopo, 330–333, 334
+
+ Bembo, Pietro, 373
+
+ Benvenuto di Giovanni, 99
+
+ Birth salvers (deschi da parto), 99, 128, 181
+
+ Bologna School and Eclecticism, _passim_, 458–465, 471
+
+ Bonfigli, Benedetto, 271
+
+ Botticelli, Sandro (Alessandro di Mariano Filipepi), 122, 163, 175,
+    184, 202–220, 255
+
+ Brancacci Chapel, problem of the frescoes, 131–141
+
+ Byzantine manner, 10–12;
+   in Venetia, 324, 326, 327
+
+ Bartolommeo di Giovanni, 183
+
+ Bassano, Jacopo and Leandro, 424
+
+ Bonauiti, Andrea, decorator of the Spanish Chapel, 51–53
+
+ Bronzino, Agnolo, 251
+
+ Brunellesco, investigator of perspective, 110
+
+
+ Canale, Antonio, 442
+
+ Caravaggio (Michelangelo Amerighi), 453–456, 470
+
+ Carpaccio, Victor, 364–370
+
+ Carracci, their academy at Bologna, 461.;
+   Carlo Malvasia on the Eclecticism of the C., 471
+
+ Carracci, Annibale, 453, 459–465;
+   sonnet ascribed to, 471
+
+ Cassone painters, before 1450, 127–130;
+   after 1450, 180–183
+
+ Castiglione, Baldassare, 266, 298;
+   list of greatest artists, 315
+
+ Cavallini, Pietro, 16–18
+
+ Cimabue, 12, 14–15, 20
+
+ Classic Spirit, Kenyon Cox on, 319
+
+ Correggio (Antonio Allegri), 340, 415–417;
+   Initiator of the Baroque Manner, 416
+
+ Cox, Kenyon, on the Classic Spirit, 319
+
+ Crivelli, Carlo, 267, 271, 334–335
+
+
+ Dante, 3, 8;
+   Giotto’s portrait of, 40;
+   Botticelli’s drawings for, 215
+
+ Domenico di Bartolo, 89
+
+ Domenico Veneziano, 147–148, 168, 201, 267, 271
+
+ Domenichino (Domenico Zampieri), 465, 467–469
+
+ Donatello, 110, 333
+
+ Duccio di Buoninsegna, 12, 13, 60, 63–72;
+   Procession on installation of his great Madonna, 106
+
+
+ Florence, about 1300 described, 2–4, 55;
+   the new looser manners after the plague of 1348, 110, 111;
+   Renaissance pageantry in, 195–196;
+   Savonarola’s revolution, 193, 215, 302;
+   End of liberty in and demoralization, 320
+
+ Folgore da San Gemignano, Sienese sonnet quoted, 104
+
+ Francesco di Giorgio, 100
+
+ Francis of Assisi, St., initiator of the new emotionalism in painting,
+    7, 8
+
+ Fresco, method of painting in, 6
+
+
+ Gaddi, Agnolo, 46
+
+ Gaddi, Gaddo, possibly to be identified with the “Isaac Master,” 18
+
+ Gaddi, Taddeo, 40, 45, 46
+
+ Gentile da Fabriano, 267–270, 328, 330
+
+ Ghiberti, Lorenzo, Sienese anecdote by, 104;
+   his studies, 109
+
+ Ghirlandaio (Domenico Bigordi), 122, 142, 143, 177, 184–194
+
+ Giorgione, 370–383;
+   problem of, 370;
+   early works, 371, 372;
+   his Arcadianism related to pastoral poetry, 373–374;
+   his dreamy and indeterminate mood, 374–377;
+   Castelfranco Madonna, and other later works, 378–380;
+   pastoral symphony, 380–382;
+   The Concert, its problems, 381–382;
+   Summary, 383;
+   Suggestion of G’s subjects in Leonardo’s “Trattato,” 385–386
+
+ Giottino, 46
+
+ Giotto’s pupils, “Master of the Right Transept,” 43–45;
+   Taddeo Gaddi, 45, 46;
+   Buffalmacco, 46;
+   Bernardo Daddi, 46;
+   Giottino, 46, 47
+
+ Giotto di Bondone, 18;
+   early work at Assisi, 20–22;
+   at Rome, 23;
+   at Padua, 23–29;
+   later work, the Allegories at Assisi, 31–34;
+   at Santa Croce, 34–39;
+   The Campanile and last phase, 40, 41;
+   general characterization, 42, 43;
+   poem by, 56;
+   mentioned, 136, 267
+
+ Giovanni di Paolo, 93–95
+
+ Girolamo di Benvenuto, 99
+
+ Giulio Romano, 294, 297, 452–453
+
+ Gozzoli, Benozzo, 142, 143, 165–166, 267, 271
+
+ Grand style defined, 265–266;
+   Sir Joshua Reynolds on, 318–319;
+   L. Dolce on, in Titian, 445
+
+ Guariento of Padua, 324
+
+ Goya, Francisco, quoted, 131
+
+ Guardi, Francesco, 443
+
+ Guido of Siena, 12
+
+
+ “Isaac Master,” perhaps Gaddo Gaddi, 18
+
+ Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua, relations with Mantegna, 343;
+   Opinion of him, 384
+
+
+ Landscape, new sense of the picturesque in, and Salvator Rosa, 456–457
+
+ LeBrun, Charles, dependence as decorator on A. Carracci, 465
+
+ Leonardo da Vinci, 1;
+   on Masaccio, 151, 202, 223–235, 260;
+   His new principles, 224;
+   Early Florentine period, 225–237;
+   Adoration of the Magi, 233–236;
+   Madonna of the Rocks, 236;
+   First Milanese period, 238–240;
+   Last Supper, 239–240;
+   Second Florentine Period; Mona Lisa, Anghiari, 239–241;
+   Second Milanese Period; St. Ann, Second Madonna of the Rocks,
+      243–244;
+   Roma and France, 244–245;
+   His Influence, 245–246;
+   Tractate on Painting, 257–260, 285, 286, 287, 290, 292, 300, 371,
+      383, 385
+
+ Lomazzo, Paolo, Great Italian painters compared with the poets, 385
+
+ Longhi, Pietro, 444
+
+ Lorenzetti, Ambrogio, 40, 42–45, 72, 76, 79, 84
+
+ Lorenzetti, Pietro, 76–78;
+   Followers of, at Assisi, 79;
+   Contract for Arezzo altar-piece, 105–106
+
+ Lorenzetti followers, Triumph of Death, Pisa, 88, 89
+
+ Lorenzettian, panoramic style, 86, 126, 172
+
+ Lotto, Lorenzo, 411–413
+
+ Lorenzo de’ Medici, his birth salver, 181–184
+
+ Lorenzo Monaco, Don, 112
+
+ Lorenzo da San Severino, 272
+
+ Lorenzo Veneziano, 326, 327
+
+
+ Mantegna, Andrea, 333, 337–345, 348, 352, 355, 356.;
+   Titian on, 324
+
+ Marcovaldo, Coppo di, 62
+
+ Masaccio (Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Tommaso Guidi), 50, 130–142, 151,
+    201
+
+ Masolino da Panicale, 122–127
+
+ Matteo di Giovanni, of Siena, 97–99
+
+ Melozzo da Forlì, 273–274
+
+ Michelangelo Buonarotti, 19, 193, 263;
+   perturbing influence on Raphael, 288, 294, 295;
+   Early works;
+     Doni Madonna, The Bathers, 301–303;
+     The Sistine Ceiling, 304–313;
+     The Last Judgment, 313–314;
+   Defects of his followers, 315;
+   Advice on posture, 317,
+   on the unity of painting and sculpture, 317, 318, 407, 429
+
+ Michelozzo, 115
+
+ Modern sensibility, in Pontormo, 253;
+   Moretto, Lotto, Correggio, Tintoretto, 411
+
+ Moretto of Brescia, 412–413
+
+ Moroni, Giambattista, 423
+
+
+ Nardo di Cione, 48
+
+ Neroccio di Landi, 100
+
+
+ Oil Painting, introduced at Florence by Domenico Veneziano, 147,;
+   practiced in Lombardy by Antonello da Messina, 345
+
+ Orcagna (Andrea di Cione), 47–50;
+   Contract for Strozzi altar-piece, 56
+
+ Ottaviano Nelli, 271
+
+
+ Palma Giovine, on Titian’s technique, 390
+
+ Palma Vecchio, 407, 411
+
+ Paolo Veronese (Caliari), 436–440
+
+ Pastoral poetry as background of Giorgione’s inventions, 370–374
+
+ Perspective, discovery by Brunellesco, 110,;
+   Uccello’s experiments in, 144, 152;
+   Piero della Francesca’s book on, 169;
+   Mantegna’s illusionistic, 337, 339–340;
+   further developed by Correggio, 340, 415–416
+
+ Perugino (Pietro Vannucci), 117, 178, 223, 265, 269, 276–280, 283, 288,
+    297, 267, 271, 273, 278–282, 285, 290, 299
+
+ Pesellino, Francesco, 181
+
+ Piero della Francesca, 169–172, 201, 273
+
+ Pollaiuolo, Antonio, 158, 166–169, 201, 205
+
+ Piero di Cosimo, 177, 202, 221–223, 246
+
+ Pintorricchio, 101, 174
+
+ Pisanello (Antonio Pisano), 328
+
+ Plague banners, Umbrian, 263, 313
+
+ Poliziano, Angelo, his poetry as an inspiration for Botticelli,
+    Raphael, Titian, 255–256
+
+ Pontormo (Jacopo Carrucci), 253
+
+ Poussin, Nicholas, derives from Raphael and the Eclectics, 458
+
+
+ Raphael Sanzio, 19, 256, 263;
+   His Umbrian beginnings, 282–283.
+   At Florence, 283–288.
+   At Rome, The Segnatura, 289–293;
+   Stanze of Heliodorus and of the Incendio, 294–296.
+
+ Realists, Early Florentine, enumerated, 143
+
+ Reni, Guido, 465–466
+
+ Reynolds, Sir Joshua, on the Grand style, 318–319
+
+ Rodin, Auguste, on Michelangelo, 313
+
+ Roman revival before 1300, 16
+
+ Rosa, Salvator, 456–457
+
+ Rosselli, Cosimo, 172, 221
+
+ Rubens, Peter Paul,
+   his praise of Leonardo, 258,
+   derives from Titian, 468
+
+
+ Sannazaro, Jacopo, 373, 374
+
+ Sassetta (Stefano di Giovanni), 72, 90–92
+
+ Sebastiano del Piombo, 295, 408–409
+
+ Signorelli, Luca, 176, 273–278
+
+ Sistine Chapel, early frescoes analyzed, 173–179
+
+ Savonarola, Fra Girolamo, 193, 215, 217, 302
+
+ St. Dominic, 8, 52
+
+ Siena, the Sienese temperament illustrated, 59–61;
+   its artistic conservation, 61
+
+ Simone Martini, 72–76, 267
+
+ Sodoma (Antonio Bazzi), 102, 471
+
+ Squarcione, Francesco, School of, 334
+
+ Starnina, Gherardo, 50
+
+
+ Tempera, painting in, 5, 6
+
+ Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista, 440–442, 444
+
+ Tintoretto (Jacopo Robusti), 424–435
+
+ Titian of Cadore (Tiziano Vecellio), 256, 389–408, 418–423.
+   His calculating character and technique, 389–390;
+   his four periods, 390–391;
+   Early, Giorgionesque period, 392–398;
+   (1515–1533), 396–404;
+   (1533–1548), 404–407;
+   (1548–1577), subjective and impressionistic phase, 418–423.
+   Lodovico Dolce on T’s impressionism in landscape, 446;
+   G. F. Watt on T’s classical quality, 446
+
+ Tommé, Luca, 86
+
+ Torriti (Jacopo), 12
+
+
+ Uccello, Paolo, 143–144, 152, 201, 334
+
+ Umbria,
+   its characteristics, 266–267;
+   foreign painters in, 267
+
+
+ Vasari, Giorgio, on Masaccio, 151;
+   on Paolo Uccello, 152;
+   on a Trick to get a chapel, 196–197;
+   on the “Modern style,” 316, 317;
+   boasts of his own dexterity, 451.
+
+ Velasquez, draws from Caravaggio and the Italian Tenebrists, 456, 470
+
+ Venice, its colorful aspect, and nature of its civilization, 323–326
+
+ Veronese, see Paolo Veronese
+
+ Veronese, early panoramic manner, 328–330, 331
+
+ Verrocchio, Andrea, 158, 201, 203, 227–230
+
+ Villani, Giovanni, summary of Florence, 9, 54–56
+
+ Villani, Matteo, on the relaxation of Florentine morals after the
+    plague of 1348, 110–111
+
+ Vivarini, Antonio, 330, 363
+
+ Vivarini, Bartolommeo, 362, 363
+
+ Vivarini, Alvise, 363
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
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+
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+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A history of Italian painting, by Frank Jewett Mather</p>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
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+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A history of Italian painting</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Frank Jewett Mather</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 20, 2023 [eBook #69844]</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF ITALIAN PAINTING ***</div>
+
+<div class='tnotes covernote'>
+
+<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p>
+
+<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='border'>
+
+<div class='chapter ph1'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><em>BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR</em>—</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c002'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>HISTORY OF ITALIAN PAINTING IN THE RENAISSANCE</div>
+      <div class='line'>THE COLLECTORS</div>
+      <div class='line'>HOMER MARTIN, POET IN LANDSCAPE</div>
+      <div class='line'>ESTIMATES IN ART</div>
+      <div class='line'>THE PORTRAITS OF DANTE</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div id='frontispiece'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_frontispiece.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p>GIOTTO: DORMITION OF THE VIRGIN<br><br><em>Berlin</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='titlepage double'>
+
+<div>
+  <h1 class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>A HISTORY OF</span><br> ITALIAN PAINTING</h1>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><em>By</em></div>
+    <div class='c004'><span class='large'>FRANK JEWETT MATHER, <span class='sc'>Jr.</span></span></div>
+    <div><span class='large'>PH.D., L.H.D.</span></div>
+    <div class='c004'><span class='small'>Professor of Art and Archaeology in Princeton University</span></div>
+    <div class='c004'><span class='xxlarge'>❦</span></div>
+    <div class='c004'>LONDON</div>
+    <div class='c004'>STANLEY PAUL &#38; CO., LTD.</div>
+    <div class='c004'><span class='sc'>31, Essex Street, Strand, W. C. 2</span></div>
+    <div class='c004'>1923</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><span class='small'>Printed in the United States of America</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><span class='large'><em>To</em></span></div>
+    <div class='c004'><span class='large'><span class='blackletter'>B. B.</span></span></div>
+    <div class='c004'><span class='sc'>In Friendship</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'>PREFACE</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c006'>This book has grown out of lectures which were delivered at
+the Cleveland Art Museum in 1919–20. There I had ideal
+hearers, beginners who wanted to learn and were willing to
+follow a serious discussion. Since I aim at the same sort of a
+reader now, I have only slightly retouched and amplified the
+original manuscript. This is frankly a beginner’s book. I have
+had to omit whatever might confuse the novice, including many
+painters inherently delightful. Controversial problems for the
+same reason have been when possible avoided. When, however,
+I have had to cope with such, I have depended more on my
+own eyes and judgment than on the written words of others.
+But the latest literature has also been used, so that even the
+adept should here and there find something to his purpose.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For opinions on contested points, I have given my authority
+or personal reason in notes, which, in order not to clutter up
+the text, are printed at the end. By the same token, hints on
+reading and private study are tucked away in the last pages
+where they will not bother readers who do not need or want
+them. While I hope the book will be welcome in the classroom,
+I have had as much in mind the intelligent traveller in
+Europe and the private student. Throughout I have had
+before me the kind of introduction to Italian painting that
+would have been helpful to me thirty years ago in those days
+of bewildered enthusiasm when I was making my <em>Grand Tour</em>.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Author</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+  <tr>
+    <th class='c008'><span class='small'>CHAPTER</span></th>
+    <th class='c009'>&#160;</th>
+    <th class='c010'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>I.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Giotto and the New Florentine Humanism</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>II.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Siena and the Continuing of the Mediaeval Style</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>III.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Masaccio and the New Realism</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>IV.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Fra Filippo Lippi and the New Narrative Style</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>V.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Dawn of the Golden Age: Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_201'>201</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>VI.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Golden Age: Raphael and Michelangelo</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>VII.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Venetian Painting Before Titian</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_323'>323</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>VIII.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Titian and Venetian Painting in the Renaissance</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_389'>389</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>IX.</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Realists and Eclectics</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_451'>451</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>&#160;</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Notes</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_473'>473</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>&#160;</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Hints for Reading</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_489'>489</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>&#160;</td>
+    <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Index</span></td>
+    <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_491'>491</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter I</span></span><br> GIOTTO AND THE NEW FLORENTINE HUMANISM</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The Florentine ideal of Mass and Emotion—Its Humanism—The City of
+Florence about 1300—The Position and Methods of the Painter—The
+General demand for Religious Painting—Accelerated by the religious
+reforms of 1200, and changed in character—Insufficiency of the current
+Italo-Byzantine Style—Experiments towards a new manner: Duccio
+and the Sienese, Cimabue, Cavallini and the “Isaac Master”—Giotto—Immediate
+followers of Giotto, Andrea Orcagna and the return to
+sculptural methods—Later Panoramists, Andrea Bonaiuti and the
+Spanish Chapel.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Leonardo da Vinci, from the summit of Florentine art, has
+written “What should first be judged in seeing if a picture be
+good is whether the movements are appropriate to the mind
+of the figure that moves.” And again he has expressed somewhat
+differently the highest merits of painting as “the creation
+of relief (projection) where there is none.” For Florence, at
+least, these notions are authoritative, and they may well
+serve as text for most that I shall say about Florentine painting.
+To give significant emotion convincing mass—this
+was the problem of the Florentine painter from the moment
+when Giotto about the year 1300 began to find himself, to
+that day more than two centuries and a half later when
+Michelangelo died. No Florentine master of a strenuous sort
+ever failed to perceive this mission, and no unstrenuous artist
+was ever fully Florentine. This twofold aim—humanistic,
+in choice and mastery of emotion; scientific, in search for those
+indications which most vividly express mass where no mass
+is—this twofold endeavor Florence shared with the only
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>greater city of art, Athens. Thus Florence is to the art of
+today what Athens was to that of classical antiquity.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In these two little communal republics were discovered and
+worked out to perfection all our ideals of humanistic beauty.
+Florence saw God, His Divine Son, the Blessed Virgin, and
+the saints quite as Athens had seen the gods of Olympus, the
+demi-gods, and the heroes simply as men and women of the
+noblest physical and moral type. Both agreed in magnifying
+and idealizing the people one ordinarily sees. For greater
+beauty, Athens represented them nude or lightly draped; for
+greater dignity, Florence chose the solemn garb of the Roman
+forum. Whether pagan or Christian, the guardians of a
+people’s morality were to be above haste, excitement, or any
+transient emotion. They were to express intensities of feeling,
+but a feeling more composed, permanent, and disciplined, than
+that of every day. Judgment and criticism count for as much
+in both arts as emotional inspiration. The great Florentine
+artist is a thinker; he is often poet and scientist, sculptor and
+architect, besides being a painter. Behind his painting lies
+always a problem of mind, and as sheer personalities the greatest
+painters of Siena, Venice, and Lombardy often seem mere
+nobodies when compared even with the minor Florentines. We
+should know something about a city that produced personality
+so generously, and before considering Giotto, the first great
+painter Florence bred, we shall do well to look at Florence as
+he saw it about the year 1300, being a man in the thirties.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Florence was then as now a little city, its population about
+100,000 souls, but it was growing. The old second wall of about
+two miles’ circuit was already condemned in favor of a turreted
+circuit of over six. Up the Arno the forest-clad ridge of
+Vallombrosa was much as it is today; down the valley the
+jagged peaks of the Carrara mountains barred the way to the
+sea. The surrounding vineyards and olive orchards by reason
+of encroaching forest were less extensive than they are now,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>but through every gate and from every tower one could see
+smiling fields guarded by battlemented villas. In the city, the
+fortress towers of the old nobility, partizans mostly of the
+foreign Emperor, rose thickly, but already dismantled at their
+fighting tops, for the people, meaning strictly the ruling merchant
+and manufacturing classes, had lately taken the rule
+from the old nobles. Many of these had fled; some had been
+banished, as was soon to be that reckless advocate of the
+emperor, Dante Alighieri, an excellent poet of love foolishly
+dabbling in politics. Other patricians sulked in their fortress
+palaces. Some shrewdly got themselves demoted and joined
+the ruling trade guilds. Of these guilds a big four, five, or six,
+governed the city, while a minor dozen had political privilege.
+Only guild members voted for the city officers. The guilds
+combined the function of a trade union and an employer’s
+association, including all members of the craft from the youngest
+apprentice to the richest boss-contractor. Such a guild as
+the notaries, must have been much like a bar association,
+while the wholesale merchants’ guild must have resembled a
+chamber of commerce. The guild folk had early allied themselves
+with the Pope, the only permanent representative of the
+principle of order in Italy. The Pope was also the bulwark of
+the new free communes against the claims of the Teutonic
+Emperors. So in Florence piety, liberty, and prosperity were
+convertible terms.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Within the narrow walls was a bustling, neighborly, squabbling
+and making-up life. Everybody knew everybody else.
+The craftsman worked in the little open archways you may
+still see in the Via San Gallo, in sight and hearing of the passing
+world. Of weavers’ shops alone there were 300. No
+western city was ever prouder than Florence in those days.
+Her credit was good from the Urals to the Pentland Hills. Her
+gold florin was everywhere standard exchange. She had secret
+ways of finishing the fine cloths that came in ships and caravans
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>from Ghent, Ypres, and Arras; she handled the silks of China
+and converted the raw pelts of the north into objects of fashion.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Her civic pride was actively expressing itself in building.
+Between 1294 and 1299 she had projected a new cathedral,
+the great Franciscan church of Santa Croce, a new town hall,
+and the massive walls we still see. For stately buildings she
+had earlier had only the Baptistry, in which every baby was
+promptly christened, and the new church of the Friars Preachers
+(Dominicans), Santa Maria Novella. In considering this
+Florence you must think of a hard-headed, full-blooded, ambitious
+community, frankly devoted to money-making, but
+desiring wealth chiefly as a step towards fame. Since the
+painter could provide fame in this world and advance one’s
+position in the next, his estate was a favored one.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The painter himself was just a fine craftsman. He kept a
+shop and called it such—a <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i>. He worked only to order.
+There were no exhibitions, no museums, no academies, no art
+schools, no prizes, no dealers. The painters modestly joined the
+guild of the druggists (<i><span lang="it">speziali</span></i>), who were their color makers,
+quite as the up-to-date newspaper reporter affiliates himself
+with the typographical union. When a rich man wanted a
+picture, he simply went to a painter’s shop and ordered it,
+laying down as a matter of course the subject and everything
+about the treatment that interested him. If the work was of
+importance, a contract and specifications were drawn up. The
+kind of colors, pay by the job or by the day, the amount to
+be painted by the contracting artist himself, the time of completion,
+with or without penalty—all this was precisely nominated
+in the bond. Naturally the painter used his shop-assistants
+and apprentices as much as possible. Often he did
+little himself except heads and principal figures. But he made
+the designs and carefully supervised their execution on panel
+or wall. A Florentine painter’s <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> then had none of the
+preciousness of a modern painter’s studio. It was rather like
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>a decorator’s shop of today, the master being merely the
+business head and guiding artistic taste. When we speak of
+a fresco by Giotto, we do not mean that Giotto painted much
+of it, any more than a La Farge window implies that our great
+American master of stained-glass design himself cut and set
+the glass. The painter of Florence had to be a jack-of-all-trades,
+a color grinder, a cabinet maker, and a wood carver;
+a gilder; to be capable of copying any design and of inventing
+fine decorative features himself. He must be equally competent
+in the delicate methods of tempera painting as in the
+resolute procedures of fresco.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>These two methods set distinct limits to the work and its
+effects. The colors were ground up day by day in the shop.
+Each had its little pot. There was no palette. Hence only a
+few colors were used, and with little mixing. For tempera
+painting a good wooden panel—preferably of poplar—was
+grounded with successive coats of finest plaster of Paris in glue
+and rubbed down to ivory smoothness. The composition was
+then copied in minutely from a working drawing. The gold
+background inherited from the workers in mosaic was laid on
+in pure leaf. The composition was first lightly shaded and
+modelled either in green or brown earth, and then finished up
+a bit at a time, in colors tempered with egg or vegetable albumen.
+The paints were thick and could not be swiftly
+manipulated; the whole surface set and so hardened that retouching
+was difficult. How so niggling a method produced so
+broad and harmonious effects will seem a mystery to the modern
+artist. It was due to system and sacrifice. Though the
+work was done piecemeal, everything was thought out in
+advance. Dark shadows and accidents of lighting which would
+mar the general blond effect were ignored. The beauty desired
+was not that of nature, but that of enamels and semi-precious
+stones. These panels are glorious in azures, cinnabars, crimsons,
+emerald-greens, and whites partaking of all of these hues.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>Their delicacy is enhanced by carved frames, at this moment,
+1300, simply gabled and moulded; later built up and arched
+and fretted with the most fantastic gothic features.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>If the painter in tempera required chiefly patience and delicacy,
+the painter in fresco must have resolution and audacity.
+He must calculate each day’s work exactly, and a whole day’s
+work could be spoiled by a single slip of the hand in the tired
+evening hour. For fresco, the working sketch was roughly
+copied in outline on a plaster wall. Then any part selected
+for a day’s work was covered with a new coat of fine plaster.
+The effaced part of the design must be rapidly redrawn on the
+wet ground. Then the colors were laid on from their little
+pots, and only the sound mineral colors which resist lime could
+be employed. The vehicle was simply water. The colors were
+sucked deep into the wet plaster, and united with it to form a
+surface as durable as the wall itself. Generally the colors
+were merely divided into three values,—light, pure colors, and
+dark. Everything was kept clear, rather flat, and blond,
+highly simple and beautifully decorative. One of the later
+painters, Cennino Cennini (active about 1400), tells us that a
+single head was a day’s work for a good <i><span lang="it">frescante</span></i>. The touch
+had to be sure, for a mis-stroke meant scraping the wet plaster
+off, relaying it, and starting all over again. The fresco painter
+accordingly needed discipline and method. Nothing could be
+farther from modern inspirational methods. Where everything
+was systematized and calculated in advance, you will
+see it was quite safe for a master to entrust his designs to pupils
+who knew his wishes. Every fresco when dry was more or less
+retouched in tempera, but the best artists did this sparingly,
+knowing that the retouches would soon blacken badly or
+flake off.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>So much for the shop methods. Now for him who makes
+shops possible—the patron. A wealthy Florentine as naturally
+wanted to invest in a frescoed chapel as a wealthy American
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>does in a fleet of motor cars. Considering the changed
+value of money, one indulgence was about as costly as the other.
+But the Florentine never quite regarded paintings as luxuries.
+They were necessary to him. He loved them. They enhanced
+his prestige in this world and improved his chances in the next.
+Then to beautify a church was really to magnify the liberty
+and prosperity of Florence, which largely derived from the
+Holy See. Recall that every Florentine was born a Catholic,
+baptized in the fair Church of St. John with the name of a
+saint. This saint, he believed, could aid him morally and
+materially, was in every sense his celestial patron. It paid to
+do the saint honor, and that could best be done through the
+painter’s art. The poorest man might have a small portrait
+of his patron, a rich man might endow a chapel and cause all
+his patron’s miracles to be pictured on the wall. Think also
+that every altar—a dozen or more in every large church—was
+a shrine<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c012'><sup>[1]</sup></a>, containing the bread and wine that by the never-ceasing
+miracle of the Mass became the Saviour’s body and
+blood; and was also a reliquary or tomb, containing in whole
+or part the body of some saint. Every altar then, and every
+chapel inclosing one, cried out for a twofold interpretation of
+its meaning. Everything about the Eucharist had to be explained
+(involving pretty nearly all of Biblical history), and the
+particular relic required similar illumination. Since many of
+the faithful could not read, and the Catholic Church has ever
+been merciful as regards sermonizing, these explanations of the
+altar as miracle shrine of Our Lord and as tomb of a particular
+saint were best made pictorially, and generally were so made.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such motives for picture-making Florence of course shared
+with the entire Christian world. It remains to explain why
+she wanted more painting and better than any other mediæval
+city. She wanted more painting chiefly because of her exceptional
+civic pride and prosperity, she wanted better painting
+because she had moved ahead of the world towards finer,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>more passionate, and conscious experiences of life which the
+older painting was powerless to express. About the year 1200,
+a century before the time we are considering, there flourished
+two great religious leaders who gave to Christianity a new
+dignity and appeal. St. Dominic, with his disciple, St. Thomas
+Aquinas, endeavored to make Christianity more reasonable,
+St. Francis of Assisi endeavored to make it more heartfelt and
+compassionate. They founded two monastic orders with divergent
+yet harmonious aims. The Dominicans called men to
+a life of study and self-examination, enlisting the human reason
+to explain and justify the universe under the Christian scheme;
+the Franciscans called men to poverty, humility, and chastity,
+and service to the unfortunate. Between the two—one supplying
+the light of the reason and the other the light of the
+heart—they overcame heresies which had menaced both
+Christianity and civilization and roused the Church out of its
+dogmatic slumber. It was no longer enough for the Church to
+threaten. Men yielded to her now only on condition that their
+heads be convinced or their hearts touched. In Florence, where
+a rationalizing shrewdness and a real warm-heartedness singularly
+blended, the double appeal was irresistible. By and large
+the whole city either schematized with the Dominicans or
+slummed with the Franciscans. Here was urgent new matter
+requiring an art that could move and persuade.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Together with this religious revival and the political and
+commercial progress we have noted, came a literary revival.
+Before the end of the 13th century such poets as Guido Guinizelli,
+Guido Cavalcanti, and Dante Alighieri had so reshaped
+the rude vulgar tongue that it became worthy of its Latin
+succession. The refinements of chivalric love came to Florence
+in melodious verse, and what the poets called the “sweet
+new style,” <i><span lang="it">il dolce stil nuovo</span></i>, in diction presaged a similar
+sweet new style of painting. Alongside of the poets, Brunetto
+Latini in the <cite>Tesoro</cite> shows glimmerings of scientific interest,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>and Giovanni Villani lends substance and dignity to the work
+of the chronicler. Already the sculptors Nicola and Giovanni
+of neighboring Pisa had grasped the beauties respectively of
+classic sculpture and the noble intensity of that of the Gothic
+North. All this immensely increased that sum of fine thinking,
+feeling, and seeing which underlies all great art.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>To express these new emotions the old painting was inadequate.
+Italy through the so-called Dark Ages produced art
+abundantly. Wherever power and order asserted themselves
+amid the welter of war and oppression, stately buildings rose
+and these were decorated. Thus at Rome, where the popes
+gradually added temporal to spiritual power, splendid basilicas
+grew over the tombs of the martyrs. At Ravenna, through the
+6th and 7th centuries the seat of the Byzantine and Gothic
+sovereignties, magnificent churches and baptistries were covered
+with pictorial mosaics. In Sicily, at Messina, Cefalù and
+Palermo, the sway of the Norman kings in the eleventh and
+twelfth centuries expressed itself in churches and civic buildings
+of the utmost splendor, which were adorned with mosaics by
+Greek masters. When the fugitives from the valleys of the
+Po, Adige, and Piave, and Brenta fled from Attila to the Venetian
+fens, there again was a beginning of great building. Wherever
+there was a powerful primate as at Milan, Como, Parma,
+Pisa, or a wide ruling abbot as at Subiaco, Monte Cassino,
+Capua, you will find art.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>But hardly, except perhaps in architecture, Italian art. We
+have sporadic provincial expressions dominated from afar by
+the prestige of the Eastern Roman Empire. At Constantinople
+there was a permanent court, a ceremonious civilization,
+an artistic blending of the traditions of old Greece and of the
+mysterious Levant. The merchants of the world sought from
+Byzantium, jewelry, enamels, embroideries, brocades, carved
+ivories, and pictured manuscripts. She was to the early
+Middle Ages what Paris is to ours—the æsthetic fashion
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>maker of the world,—and her skilled artists went far afield
+as so many missionaries of the Byzantine style. We find them
+making the mosaics of Ravenna in the 6th and 7th centuries,
+of St. Mark’s at Venice from the 9th century, of many Roman
+churches from an even earlier date, of Palermo in the 12th,
+and of the Baptistry at Florence in the 13th. This Byzantine
+manner, as practiced by the travelling Greek artists and by
+their innumerable Italian imitators, is the real starting point
+and jump-off place for Italian painting. Hence in first studying
+the Byzantine style we do but imitate the Italian painters
+who immediately preceded Giotto.</p>
+
+<div id='f_001'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_001.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 1.</span> Byzantine Narrative Style about 1300. Detail from Mosaic Book Covers in the Opera del Duomo.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_002'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>
+<img src='images/f_002.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 2.</span> Mosaic in the Cathedral, Pisa. St. John, left, is by Cimabue, 1302; the Christ is in good Byzantine tradition; the Virgin, right, is some twenty years later.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Byzantine pictures have come down to us on the largest and
+on the smallest scale—in the great mosaics and wall paintings,
+and as well on small panels and in the illustrated books
+used in the ritual of the church. Both are important. The
+mural decorations are what the early Italian painter had constantly
+before his eye; the miniatured psalters, Gospels, lectionaries,
+chorals and prayer books, afforded the patterns
+from which he drew with little alteration the standard compositions
+of the Annunciation to Mary, the Nativity of Christ,
+His Adoration by the Shepherds and Kings, His Baptism, the
+Raising of Lazarus, the Last Supper, Crucifixion, Descent into
+Hell, Resurrection, and Ascension. But Byzantine design is
+most imposing in its monumental phase. The most careless
+traveller still feels awe before those solemn figures of Christ
+supreme ruler (<em>Pantokrator</em>) and his Mother queen of heaven which
+are seen throned against a background of azure or gold and attended
+by solemn figures of apostles and martyrs, Figure <a href='#f_002'>2</a>.
+The forms are flat,—silhouettes enriched by interior tracery,
+the arrangement in the space formal, symmetrical, highly decorative.
+The smaller narrative compositions,<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c012'><sup>[2]</sup></a> Figure <a href='#f_001'>1</a>, are
+clearly conceived but have small emotional appeal. For this
+reason the Italians of the Golden Age spoke of the Byzantine
+style as rude. This is an error. Rude in the hands of half-trained
+local imitators, the style as formulated in the 9th century
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>at Constantinople was highly sophisticated and decoratively of
+great refinement. It was based on an admirable system of color
+spotting and a fine understanding of silhouette. The contours
+were cast in easy conventional curves. These were enriched
+within by hatchings and splintery angles of gold which contrasted
+effectively with the fluent outlines. Everything was
+done by precept and copybook. In four centuries before the
+year 1300, the style showed little change, indeed is still alive in
+the mountains of Macedonia and, until the Revolution, in
+Russia. The Byzantine artist seldom looked at a fellow
+mortal with artistic intent. He looked at some earlier picture
+or considered his own color preferences. Conventional and
+anæmic as the narrative style was, it did all that was required
+of it. Nothing better serves the purpose of an authoritative
+Church than the awe-inspiring Christs of the Lombard and
+Sicilian and Roman apses, and so long as the Church felt no
+duty beyond that of plain statement of her claims, the unfelt
+narratives from the Scriptures served every religious need.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was different when under the leading of St. Dominic and
+St. Francis,<a id='r3'></a><a href='#f3' class='c012'><sup>[3]</sup></a> the Church eagerly wished to persuade men.
+Men may well have been frightened or even instructed by a
+Byzantine picture; nobody was ever persuaded by one. It took
+a century to work away from the Byzantine style, so deeply was
+it rooted. In fact, from the year 1226, that of St. Francis’s
+death, to about the end of the century, such artists as Guido
+of Siena, Coppo di Marcovaldo, Giunta of Pisa, Jacopo Torriti,
+Giovanni Cosma, Duccio, and Cimabue chiefly restudied the
+old Byzantine manner. They wished to learn how to build
+creditably before they began to tear down. Such reverent
+experiment extending over two generations only proved that
+the breach with Byzantine formalism was inevitable.</p>
+
+<div id='f_003'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>
+<img src='images/f_003.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 3.</span> Tuscan Master about 1285.—<em>Otto Kahn, N.Y.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_004'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_004.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 4.</span> Cimabue. Madonna in Majesty.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>With the deepening and broadening of personal, civic, and
+religious emotions, the painter found new exactions laid upon
+him which the bloodless art of Byzantium could not satisfy.
+New life called for new forms to express it. We find in sculpture
+from about the year 1260, that of Giovanni Pisano’s
+first pulpit—wholly classical in its dignity—a kindred endeavor
+in advance of the art of painting. The renewal took
+three forms: the more conservative spirits accepted the Byzantine
+formulas but endeavored to refine on them in a realistic
+sense, to add grace to austerity. Such moderate development
+of the old style fixed the character of the school of Siena and
+was magnificently initiated by its greatest artist, Duccio,
+active about 1300. A very beautiful Madonna of this general
+tendency is in the collection of Mr. Otto Kahn at New York,
+Figure <a href='#f_003'>3</a>. It has been quite variously attributed.<a id='r4'></a><a href='#f4' class='c012'><sup>[4]</sup></a> It seems to
+me, however, a pure Tuscan work by Coppo or a painter akin
+to him. For the greater spirits such a reform was inadequate.
+Refine the Byzantine formulas to the utmost—there was no
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>gain, rather loss in strength. Accordingly a vehement spirit
+like Cimabue,[1–5] acknowledgedly father of the Florentine school,
+accepts the Byzantine tradition loyally, but seeks to make its
+rigid mannerisms express the new religious passions. At times
+he is successful at this unlikely task of putting new wine into
+old bottles. His great enthroned Madonna at Florence, Figure
+<a href='#f_004'>4</a>, with solemn angels in attendance and grim patriarchs below
+her throne, may have been painted as early as 1285. It
+is faithful to the old monumental tradition—akin to the Christs
+and Marys of the mosaics—in its impressive richness is one
+of the most majestic things the century produced. It reveals
+the docility of its creator but only partially his power. We
+have hardly his hand but surely an echo of his influence in the
+tragic crucifix in the museum of Santa Croce. It is the moment
+of agony, and the powerful body writhes against the nails,
+while the head sinks in death. It may represent hundreds
+of similar crosses that stood high in air on the rood beam before
+the chancel, in sight both of the preacher and his public.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Somewhere about 1294, Cimabue was called to Assisi to
+decorate the church in which St. Francis was buried. His
+part was the choir and transepts of the upper church. In the
+cross vault he painted the four evangelists, on the walls he
+spread the stories of St. Peter and St. Paul, the legends of the
+Virgin scenes from the Apocalypse, the gigantic forms of the
+archangels and a Calvary, Figure <a href='#f_005'>5</a>, that is one of the most
+moving expressions of Christian art. Chipped and blackened,
+their lights become dark through chemical change,
+these wall paintings retain an immense power and veracity.
+The Byzantine forms gain a paradoxical solidity, like that of
+bronze. The convulsion of the figure of Christ is given back in
+the wild gestures of the mourning women and the terrified Jews.
+It is the moment of the earthquake and the opening of tombs; a
+cosmic terror and despair pervade the place. The work is
+hampered and rude but completely expressive. The sensitive
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>Japanese critic and man of the world, Okakura Kakuzo, used
+to regard these sooty frescoes in the transepts of the Franciscan
+basilica as the high point of all European art, which should
+at least induce the tourist and the student to give a second
+look at these battered and fading masterpieces. Recently an
+inscribed date, 1296, has been discovered on the choir wall
+which settles a long vexed question of chronology. The upper
+part of the work in the transepts and choir must have been
+going on for some years earlier, and the entire decoration of the
+Upper Church should roughly be comprised between 1294 and
+1300. Cimabue died about 1302 while working on the apsidal
+mosaic at Pisa, where the St. John is by his hand, Figure <a href='#f_002'>2</a>.
+He had brought life and passion into Italian painting, as his
+younger contemporary Giovanni Pisano had into Italian
+sculpture. Cimabue’s defect—that of a noble spirit—was
+the faith that the old pictorial form could contain the new
+surging emotions.</p>
+
+<div id='f_005'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_005.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 5.</span> Cimabue. Calvary. Fresco.—<em>Upper Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_006'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>
+<img src='images/f_006.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 6.</span> Pietro Cavallini. Dormition of the Virgin. Mosaic.—<em>S. M. in Trastevere, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_007'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>
+<img src='images/f_007.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 7.</span> Pietro Cavallini. Apostles, fresco, from Last Judgment.—<em>Santa Cecelia in Trastevere.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Colder spirits, as is often the case, more readily found the
+right way. And the discovery was made at Rome where the
+sculptured columns, arches, and sarcophagi, the pagan wall
+paintings and the earliest Christian mosaics combined to continue
+the lesson of classic humanism. A remarkable family of
+decorators, the Cosmati; with such contemporaries as Jacopo
+Torriti and Filippo Rusuti begin very cautiously to free themselves
+from Byzantine trammels. But it was a painter, Pietro
+Cavallini,<a id='r5'></a><a href='#f5' class='c012'><sup>[5]</sup></a> who more fully grasped that glory that had been
+Rome. In 1291 he designed for the church of Santa Maria in
+Trastevere a Madonna and four stories of the Christ Child in
+mosaic. Here we glimpse a new pictorial form, Figure <a href='#f_006'>6</a>.
+Those Byzantine hooks and hatchings which were quite false
+to form give way to a reasonable structure in light and dark,
+the hair no longer wild and ropy, is disposed in sculpturesque
+locks, the draperies are no longer a cobweb pattern, but cast
+in broad and classic folds. All these improvements may be
+noted in more complete form in the frescoed Last Judgment
+which has recently been uncovered in the church of Santa
+Cecilia, Figure <a href='#f_007'>7</a>. Here the heads of Christ and the Apostles
+are well built in carefully graduated light and shade, while the
+draperies suggest Hellenistic statuary. But the renovation is
+on the whole cold and academic. Cavallini has not much
+more to say than the Byzantines, but that little he says
+with far greater gravity and truthfulness. He was a lucid
+and industrious but not a fine or strong spirit. His work
+later at Naples—in the Church of the Donna Regina, about
+1310—shows that when he will express strong emotions he
+becomes merely hectic. Yet he recovered for Italian painting
+more than a hint of the choice naturalism of old Rome, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>that is his sufficient glory. There is greater power and knowledge
+than his in the work of such contemporaries as the unknown
+painters of the frescoed heads of prophets in Santa
+Maria Maggiore at Rome and of the stories of Isaac in the
+Upper Church at Assisi.<a id='r6'></a><a href='#f6' class='c012'><sup>[6]</sup></a> These show a resolute and intelligent
+effort to draw in masses of light and shade, and as well an
+ambition to recover the gravity of the early Christian mosaics.
+It is no wonder that some critics ascribe such dramatic and
+superbly constructed frescoes as The Betrayal of Esau to
+young Giotto, Figure <a href='#f_008'>8</a>, but the art is too mature for any
+young artist. We have rather to do with a great personality
+of Roman training who broke the way for Giotto. Cavalcaselle
+suggests, I think rightly, that the Florentine, Gaddo
+Gaddi, may have done some of this work. But we are safe
+only in calling this great painter “The Isaac Master.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>To recapitulate, there were three ways, all imperfect, open
+to a young and progressive painter who like Giotto di Bondone
+was forming a style about the year 1300. He might with the
+Sienese evade the issue of passion and naturalism, choosing for
+gracefulness, he might try over again the great adventure of
+his master Cimabue, endeavoring to bring emotion into the old
+unfit forms, or he might, like Pietro Cavallini, let emotion
+take care of itself and work academically towards better structure,
+drapery, light, and shade. His choice was absolutely
+momentous for modern painting, and I want you to feel that
+the issue was quite consciously and vividly before him, for he
+had spent much of his youth as a humble assistant in the
+basilica at Assisi, where frescoes in the vehement Tuscan manner
+of Cimabue and in the dignified Roman style of the Isaac
+Master were being painted side by side. His decision was to
+combine the merits of the two manners—to seek, like his
+master, sincerity and depth of emotion, but to embody it in
+the new and nobler forms of the Roman school. This decision
+virtually fixed the character of Christian art in Italy—it was
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>to be warm and humanistic, but it was to revive much of that
+abstract nobility which old Rome had inherited from Greece.
+Thus Italian painting at the outset took a classic stamp which
+when true to itself it has never lost. In fundamental ideas of
+beauty, there is no real difference between Giotto, Masaccio,
+Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, Michelangelo.</p>
+
+<div id='f_008'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_008.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 8.</span> “The Isaac Master.” Esau before Isaac. Fresco.—<em>Upper Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giotto di Bondone,<a id='r7'></a><a href='#f7' class='c012'><sup>[7]</sup></a> according to the best information we
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>have on a disputed point, was born in 1266, at the village of
+Colle, in the lovely valley of the Mugello. His people were
+prosperous and his way smooth. I see no reason for doubting
+the charming legend told by Ghiberti that Cimabue found the
+lad Giotto by the roadside diligently scratching the outlines of
+a sheep on a slate, and that that was the beginning of their
+association. In any case, we may surmise that he was early
+with Cimabue as apprentice and eventually went with the
+Master to Assisi to grind colors, clean brushes, and paint
+under direction. To be at that moment in the Franciscan
+Basilica was to be at the greatest creative center of the world.
+It seems to me likely that Giotto may have had a considerable
+part in the actual painting of the Old and New Testament
+stories in the nave, and I believe we may find his earliest designs
+in certain frescoes of the upper rows. The Lamenting
+over Christ’s Body, for example, singularly combines the energy
+of Cimabue with the dignity of Cavallini, and there are significant
+echoes of the composition in Giotto’s later version of
+the same theme at Padua. Tradition also ascribes to Giotto,
+maybe correctly, the Resurrection and Pentecost on the entrance
+wall.<a id='r8'></a><a href='#f8' class='c012'><sup>[8]</sup></a></p>
+
+<p class='c007'>After 1296, according to Vasari’s entirely credible account,
+young Giotto took over the direction of the work for the newly
+elected Franciscan General, Giovanni dal Muro. What share
+he had in the vivacious and justly loved stories of St. Francis,<a id='r9'></a><a href='#f9' class='c012'><sup>[9]</sup></a>
+in the lower range of the nave, is greatly disputed. Of the
+twenty-eight frescoes involved, it seems clear to me that the
+first and the last three are by an artist more nearly in the
+Sienese tradition, that Nos. II to XVIII inclusive are designed
+by Giotto in the style of the Old Testament stories above and
+painted by him with a certain amount of assistance, and that
+the rest are largely inspired by Giotto but executed in his
+absence and without his final control. What is more important
+is the variety and vivacity of these narratives. Young
+Giotto is free to improvise, as he was not in the standard Bible
+subjects, and the mood shifts readily. We have charity, with
+St. Francis giving his cloak to a beggar, in an idyllic landscape;
+family strife in St. Francis renouncing his father, Figure <a href='#f_009'>9</a>;
+sorcery in the exorcism of the devils from Arezzo; an odd mixture
+of ogreishness and witchcraft, in St. Francis’s Fire Ordeal
+before the Soldan, Figure <a href='#f_011'>11</a>; a great pious intentness, in the
+choristers at the Cradle Rite; intense physical appetite, in the
+Miracle of the Spring; an entrancing blend of reverence and
+humor, in the Sermon to the Birds, Figure <a href='#f_010'>10</a>; stark tragedy
+in the Death of the Knight of Celano.</p>
+
+<div id='f_010'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>
+<img src='images/f_010.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 10.</span> The Sermon to the Birds.—<em>Upper Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_009'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_009.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 9.</span>—St. Francis renounces His Father.—<em>Upper Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_011'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_011.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 11.</span> St. Francis before the Soldan.—<em>Upper Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_012'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>
+<img src='images/f_012.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 12.</span> Early Sketch Copy after Giotto’s Mosaic of the Navicella. Compare Fig. <a href='#f_031'>31</a>.—<em>Metropolitan Museum, New York.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giotto is still chiefly a sprightly illustrator. He is as yet
+insensitive to composition. He often perfunctorily splits his
+groups, giving each a landscape—or architectural back-screen
+quite in the Byzantine manner. His story-telling is brusque
+and without rhythm. His sense of form is already strong
+and growing, but there is little of the ease and style of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>the Isaac frescoes just above. In vitality the stories of St.
+Francis mark a great advance, but they lack the gravity and
+exquisiteness of balance proper to the best mural decoration.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was at Rome that young Giotto was to broaden and refine
+his art. He was called thither before the year 1300 to
+design the great mosaic of Christ walking on the Sea of Galilee
+beside the tempest-tossed boat of the Apostles. It stood over
+the inside cloister-portal of old St. Peter’s, and has been many
+times moved in the rebuilding of the church, and with each
+move restored, so that what we now see in the porch is entirely
+remade. From certain fragments of the old mosaic, and old
+sketch copies, Figure <a href='#f_012'>12</a>, we may judge that the Navicella, as the
+Italians loved to call it, was an elaborate composition of great
+dramatic power, the logical consummation of the experiments at
+Assisi. Our best version of the Navicella is Andrea Bonaiuti’s
+adaptation, Figure <a href='#f_031'>31</a>, for the vault of the Spanish Chapel, 1365.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>But Giotto was soon to renounce the facile method of diffuse
+and genial narrative in favor of a concise and massive style,
+akin to sculptured relief, and deeply influenced by the antique.
+The arches and the columns of Imperial Rome are teaching
+their silent lesson, the simple and noble forms of Cavallini
+and his nameless rivals show how painting may vie with
+sculpture in sense of mass and reality. With the problem of
+the representation of mass on a flat surface, Giotto wrestled
+eagerly and triumphantly. With a genius that few painters
+have equalled, he grasped the truth that the figure painter’s
+problem of representing space is chiefly that of emphatically
+suggesting mass. If you convince the eye of the tangibility
+of your objects, the mind will supply elbow room and air to
+breathe. It isn’t necessary to simulate a box, as the Sienese
+painters often did. The painter who can give a convincing
+sense of mass may handle accessories and perspective with
+the utmost freedom, according to the inner law of his design.
+The painter who thinks first of his space is in every way more
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>bound to the smaller probabilities. Much thinking of this
+sort must have been done by Giotto before he worked out
+his new style at Padua.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>After his return from Rome, Giotto sojourned for a time
+in Florence, and in 1304 or thereabouts painted the gigantic
+Madonna formerly in the Trinità, Figure <a href='#f_013'>13</a>. It is impressive
+in mass, admirable in the intent expression of the attendant
+angels, rich in color, but the great figure is unhappily crowded
+by the canopy. Giotto is still a bit uncertain as to the rendering
+of space, and makes a good if unpleasing effort to suggest
+depth despite the limitations of a gold background. With all
+its nobility and tenderness, this is by no means so good a decoration
+as the great Madonna by Cimabue, Figure <a href='#f_004'>4</a>, which
+hangs nearby in the Uffizi.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>With the problems of space and mass, Giotto was soon to
+cope triumphantly. A wealthy citizen of Padua, Enrico
+Scrovegni, was planning a new chapel to the Virgin Annunciate.
+Doubtless he wished the repose of his father’s soul,
+for his father had been a notorious usurer. Dante incontinently
+puts him in hell with other profiteers. Enrico Scrovegni
+built his chapel near the ruins of a Roman arena and
+dedicated it March 25, 1305. The Arena Chapel was a brick
+box, barrel vaulted within—a magnificent space for a fresco
+painter. Giotto spread upon it the noblest cycle of pictures
+known to Christian art. Over the chancel arch he painted
+the Eternal, surrounded by swaying angels, and listening to
+the counter-pleas of Justice and Mercy concerning doomed
+mankind, with the Archangel Gabriel serenely awaiting the
+message that should bring Christ to Mary’s womb and salvation
+to earth. This is the Prologue. Opposite on the entrance
+wall is the Epilogue—a last judgment, with Christ enthroned
+as Supreme Judge amid the Apostles, and the just being
+parted from the wicked. Amid the just you may see Enrico
+Scrovegni presenting the chapel to three angels.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>The side walls are ruled off into three rows of pictures,
+with ornate border bands and a basement of sculpturesque
+figures symbolizing the seven virtues and vices. The story reads
+down from above. Below the azure vault and still a little in
+the curve are the stories of the
+Childhood of the Virgin—nothing
+in the chapel more simple
+and stately than these.<a id='r10'></a><a href='#f10' class='c012'><sup>[10]</sup></a> The
+middle course is devoted to the
+early deeds of Christ, from his
+birth to the expulsion of the
+money lenders from the temple.
+The lower row depicts His Passion
+ending with the Miracle of
+Pentecost. Much later a disciple
+of Giotto completed the story
+with the last days of the Virgin,
+in the Choir. Thus the narrative
+in its broadest sense is a life of
+the Virgin Mary, including that
+of her Divine Son, and both
+lives are brought into an eternal
+scheme of things by the prologue, which shows a relenting
+God, and the Epilogue which shows a now relentless Christ
+awarding bliss and woe to the race for all eternity.</p>
+
+<div id='f_013'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_013.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 13.</span> Giotto. Madonna Enthroned.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The first impression of a visitor to the chapel will be a
+feeling of awe qualified by joy in the loveliest of colors. The
+whites of the classical draperies dominate. They are shot
+with rose, or pale blue, or grey green. Certain old enamels
+have the same quality of making the most splendid crimsons,
+blues, and greens seem merely foils to foreground masses of
+white which seem to include by implication all the positive
+colors. It is this bright and original color scheme balancing
+crimsons and azures with violets and greens which makes a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>thing of beauty out of what would otherwise be a stilted
+checkerboard arrangement.</p>
+
+<div id='f_013a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_013a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 13</span><em>a</em>. St. Joachim and St. Anna at the Beautiful Giotto Gate.—<em>Arena, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_014'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>
+<img src='images/f_014.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 14.</span> Giotto. The Flight into Egypt.—<em>Arena, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Next the eye will realize splendid people gravely occupied
+with solemn acts. There is the strangest blend of passion and
+decorum. See the eager old man who clutches his wife before
+a massive city gate while she caresses him tenderly, Figure <a href='#f_013'>13</a><em>a</em>,
+note the firm gentleness of the bearded priest who handles a
+screaming baby before the altar, mark the sense of strain and
+hurry where a mother and child mounted on an ass, Figure <a href='#f_014'>14</a>,
+are pushed and dragged along by an old man and attendants.
+Or again, what sinister power in the scene where three
+Jewish magistrates press money upon a haggard, bearded,
+nervous man. You do not need the bat-like demon prompting
+him to know that it is the arch-traitor Judas, Figure <a href='#f_015'>15</a>. Then
+there is a strange, serene, processional composition, with the
+Virgin moving homeward among her friends to a solemn
+music, Figure <a href='#f_016'>16</a>. It has a rhythm like the frieze of the
+Parthenon. Perhaps your eye will fix longest on the scene
+where about the pale body of the dead Christ women wail with
+outstretched hands, or tend the broken body, while bearded
+men, accustomed to the hardness of life, stand in mute sympathy
+with folded hands, Figure <a href='#f_017'>17</a>. It is what the Gospel
+ought to look like. How Giotto shows every feeling, pushing
+its expression just to the verge, and there stopping, so
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>that idyl and tragedy, devotion and wrath, treachery and
+fealty, fear and courage, each keeps its proper and distinguishing
+aspect, while all are invested in a common dignity and
+nobility. You will perhaps never have seen an art at once
+so varied and moving, and nevertheless
+so monumental, and you
+may well be curious as to the
+method.</p>
+
+<div id='f_015'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_015.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 15.</span> Giotto. Judas betraying Christ.—<em>Arena, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>You will see readily that
+these compositions are conceived
+sculpturally. Every one with the
+slightest change could be cut in
+marble. Indeed the seven Virtues,
+Figure <a href='#f_018'>18</a>, and seven Vices
+impersonated in monochrome on
+the dado of the chapel are direct
+imitations of sculpture. The
+figures throughout the life of
+Christ and the Virgin are of even size, and usually all on one
+plane. The landscapes and architectural features are arranged
+simply as frames or backgrounds for the figure groups. The
+figures are, whenever the subject permits, clad in drapery of
+a classic cast. Expression is conveyed not much by the faces,
+which have a uniform Gothic intentness, but by the action of
+the entire figure and especially of the hands. The forms are
+rather squat and massive, yet have a homely gracefulness.
+There is nothing like perspective, and small regard for distance,
+yet the figures have convincing bulk and move gravely in
+adequate space. All this is due to the most consummate
+draughtsmanship. Giotto simplifies his seeing; what he cares
+for is the thrust of the shoulder, or the poise of hip, the swing
+of the back from the pelvis, the projection of the chest, the
+balance of the head on the neck and its attachment to the
+shoulders. All these essential facts of mass he represents by
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>the simplest lines of direction, by broad masses of light and
+shade, often merely by the tugging lines in drapery that tell
+of the form beneath. The cave men would have understood
+Giotto, and so would the post-impressionists of today. Conciseness,
+economy, force, mass—these are the technical qualities
+of the work, as human insight and tenderness are its
+grace. As the great analytical critic Bernard Berenson has
+well remarked, this painting makes the strongest possible
+appeal to our tactile sense, stirring powerfully all our memories
+of touch, and presenting the painted indications as so
+many swiftly grasped clues to reality. We have to do with a
+magnificently conceived shorthand. No artist before or since
+has made a greater expenditure of mind or achieved a more
+notable inventiveness than Giotto in the Arena Chapel.</p>
+
+<div id='f_016'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_016.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 16.</span> Giotto. The Virgin returning from her wedding.—<em>Arena, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_017'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>
+<img src='images/f_017.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 17.</span> Giotto. Lamentation over Christ.—<em>Arena, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was dedicated March 25, 1305, Giotto being nearly forty
+years old, and it was probably not completely painted on the
+day of dedication, since many draperies were borrowed from
+St. Mark’s, Venice, to cover, presumably, the still unpictured
+parts of the walls. Giotto lived some four years in Padua,
+brought his family there, received the exiled poet Dante and
+with him joked not too decorously about his own ugliness and
+that of his children. It seems likely enough, though not certain,
+that he followed the banished Pope to Avignon about
+1309, and spent some years in Southern France. What is
+certain is that he was again in Florence by 1312, and that,
+having found his own solution of the problem of mass in the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>Arena Chapel, he thereafter rested comfortably on his discovery,
+never was quite as strenuous again, and spent his
+later years at a new problem—that of decorative symmetry.</p>
+
+<div id='f_018'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_018.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 18.</span> Giotto. Hope.—<em>Arena, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The first experiment towards a sweeter and more complex
+style was made in the cross vaults
+of the Lower Church of Assisi,
+immediately above the tomb of
+St. Francis. The subjects were
+the three virtues of the Franciscan
+vow—Poverty, Chastity,
+and Obedience—with a St.
+Francis in a glory of angels. In
+these great triangular compositions,
+allegory and symbolism
+run riot, and we do well to recall
+Hazlitt’s shrewd remark on
+Spenser’s “Faery Queene”—“the
+allegory will not bite.”
+Indeed one might forget it for
+the radiance of the azures, moss-greens,
+rose pinks, and deeper
+violets, for the delightful contrast
+of the freely composed
+groups with the intricate geometrical
+formality of the rich borders.
+Yet to ignore the allegory completely would be to forget
+the master’s intention. We may savor it best in the great composition:
+St. Francis Marries his Lady Poverty, Figure <a href='#f_018'>18</a><em>a</em>. The
+bridal group stands on a central crag, Christ serving as priest,
+St. Francis slipping a ring on the gaunt hand of a haggard, yet
+strangely fascinating bride clothed in a single ragged garment.
+Her bare feet show through a crisply drawn and blossomless rose
+tree. Two urchins at the foot of the little cliff stand ready to
+stone so unseemly a bride. From the central group to right
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>and left, earnest groups of angels spread in a descending curve.
+In the lower angle, left, a young man gives his rich cloak to an
+old beggar, while an angel points to the bridal: Poverty is
+accepted. At the lower right corner, another angel attempts
+to detain a young man who passes with a gesture of contempt
+in the company of two portly priests: Poverty is rejected by
+such. From the apex of the great triangle, the hands of God
+descend to welcome two angels, one of which offers the cloak
+given to the beggar, and the other a model of the church which
+is the splendid covering for the body of the Saint. The fantastic
+beauty of this and its companion pieces can only be appreciated
+on the spot. No frescoes of Italy surpass these for
+loveliness of color and perfection of condition. It is the most
+beautiful pictured Gothic ceiling in the world, perhaps the
+most fantastically beautiful of all figured ceilings whatever.</p>
+
+<div id='f_018a'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_018a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 18</span><em>a</em>. Giotto. St. Francis’ Mystic Marriage with Poverty.—<em>Lower Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Because the figures are a little slight and the expression a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>bit sentimentalized, and the proportions rather arbitrarily
+handled to meet the exigencies of the curved spaces, many
+good critics, including Venturi and Berenson, deny these compositions
+to Giotto. One of them, the St. Francis in Glory, is
+clearly of inferior design and quality. For the others, it seems
+to me that the designs can only be by Giotto, while the execution
+is mostly by a charming assistant whose work in this ceiling
+and elsewhere in this church makes us wish we knew his name.
+No middle-aged painter of established repute was likely to
+undertake personally the dirty and fatiguing work of painting
+a ceiling in fresco. If we are right in supposing that Giotto
+may have designed this ceiling, shortly after his return from
+Avignon, say, after 1312, he would have been towards fifty
+years old, and provided with a shop-staff of well-trained assistants.
+From this time on, indeed, we may assume that he
+rather directed the work of others than painted himself. Such
+a view will permit us to accept as school works many fine pictures
+the design of which a too strict criticism has denied to
+Giotto. For example, the admirable Coronation of the Virgin,
+in Santa Croce, Florence, seems to me completely designed by
+Giotto, and the logical next step after the Franciscan allegories,
+though there can be little actual painting by the master on the
+panel, and his personal contribution may have been limited to
+a small working drawing. Indeed the only one of the later
+panels which seems to show throughout his actual handiwork
+is the lovely Dormition of the Virgin at Berlin, Frontispiece,
+which was painted for the Church of Ognissanti.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>At about this period I think we may set the several crucifixes
+in Florentine churches, without inquiring too narrowly
+whether they are by the master or by scholars. Giotto has developed
+a singularly noble type. The Christ is no longer contorted
+in agony as in the crucifixes by Cimabue. He is dead,
+with his head quietly sunk on the powerful breast, and the
+body relaxed. The conception is humanistic. One feels
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>chiefly the pity of stretching that glorious thing that is a man’s
+body on a cross. Probably the earliest of these crucifixes is
+that at Santa Maria Novella, while the finest is at San Felice.
+About 1320 we may set the dismembered <i><span lang="it">ancona</span></i>, painted for
+Cardinal Gaetano Stefaneschi,
+which originally stood on the
+high altar of St. Peter’s, Rome.
+The tarnished fragments which
+you may still see in the sacristy,
+are more splendid in color than
+any other tempera painting
+whatsoever. Probably only the
+central panels, Christ and St.
+Peter enthroned, are from Giotto’s
+hand, the side panels representing
+the martyrdom of Peter
+and Paul may well be both designed
+and executed by the
+accomplished assistant who carried out the allegories at Assisi.</p>
+
+<div id='f_019'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_019.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 19.</span> Giotto. Naming of St. John the Baptist.—<em>Peruzzi Chapel, Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>So far we have seen Giotto a wanderer. Assisi, Rome,
+Padua, Rimini, delighted to do him honor, but apparently
+Florence had claimed few works from his hand. We have
+record of frescoes in the Badia which may have been early
+works. It was the decoration of Arnolfo’s great Franciscan
+church of Santa Croce that finally recalled Giotto and evoked
+his most accomplished work. He completed in the transepts
+of Santa Croce four chapels and as many altar-pieces. The
+frescoes were white-washed in the 16th century, and the panels
+broken up and lost. But in the last century the white-wash
+was scraped off from two of the chapels, and there we may see,
+so far as defacement and repainting permit, the masterpieces
+of the early Florentine school. We may reasonably guess the
+date of this work to be somewhere about 1320, Giotto
+being nearly sixty.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>In the chapel maintained by that noble family, the Peruzzi,
+Giotto spread on the side walls three stories from the life of
+St. John the Baptist, and as many more from that of St. John
+the Evangelist. The figures are superb, magisterial in pose;
+the draperies grand and ample after the classical fashion.
+Upon bulk and relief there is less insistence than at Padua.
+Giotto has passed the experimental stage as regards form, is
+less strenuous and more at his ease. Nothing is more stately
+in the chapel than the presentation of the infant Baptist
+to his father, who is temporarily stricken with dumbness,
+Figure <a href='#f_019'>19</a>. Simeon gravely writes the name John; Elizabeth
+with her adoring group of attendants carefully offers the
+vivacious child to his father’s gaze. The gestures are slow,
+definite, determined. The group beautifully fills the square
+space without crowding it. The composition, unlike the
+widely spaced Paduan designs, is drawn together into a mass.</p>
+
+<div id='f_020'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_020.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 20.</span> Giotto. Resuscitation of Drusiana by St. John.—<em>Peruzzi Chapel, Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Upon the Feast of Herod with Salome modestly dancing
+John Ruskin<a id='r11'></a><a href='#f11' class='c012'><sup>[11]</sup></a> has expended just eulogies in the petulant yet
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>important little book “Mornings in Florence.” What is notable
+in the scene is its general decorum and the pathetic indecision
+of the weak King.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>But the most accomplished design as such is the miracle of the
+Resuscitation of Drusiana by St. John the Evangelist, Figure <a href='#f_020'>20</a>.
+Even the inscenation before a fine Romanesque city is adequately,
+if very simply, realized. The gesture of the apostle is
+of majestic power, the contrast of the massive, upright, columnar
+forms of the elders, with the sharply bent forms of Drusiana,
+her mourners and bier bearers, is admirably invented, and the
+drastic portraiture of a cripple at the left adds a tang of reality
+while in no wise detracting from the dignity of the scene.
+We have a work in the grand style, massively conceived,
+warmly felt, wrought into an elaborate and satisfying symmetry.
+The Ascension of St. John has an even graver and more
+ample rhythm. The Golden Age of Raphael and Titian will
+have little to add to this except the minor graces.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the adjoining chapel of the Bardi family, Giotto, a little
+later, I believe, painted six stories of St. Francis, and four
+figures of the great Franciscan saints, St. Louis of France, St.
+Louis of Toulouse, St. Clare, and St. Elizabeth of Hungary.
+Over the entrance arch he set an animated picture of St.
+Francis receiving the stigmata, the wounds of the Saviour.
+Nearly thirty years earlier he had done this subject for the
+Church at Assisi, and in an altar-piece which has passed from
+Pisa to the Louvre. By comparing the rigid, angular figures
+of the earlier composition and their ill-adjusted accessories,
+with this easy and beautifully balanced arrangement, you may
+see how far Giotto had gone in the direction of grace, and you
+will not fail also to note how much more tragic the earlier and
+less calculated work is.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For the first time, in the Bardi chapel, Giotto conceives the
+decoration of the side walls as a whole. From the pointed lunettes
+above, through the three compositions on each wall,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>there is an architectural axis, sometimes arbitrarily imposed,
+about which the figures are symmetrically distributed. Often
+the scene is a screen with projecting wings as in the St. Francis
+before the Sultan of Morocco, or a similar fore-court, as in the
+Mourning for St. Francis. It will be well to compare the story
+of St. Francis renouncing his father, Figure <a href='#f_021'>21</a>, with the same
+subject at Assisi. You will recall that St. Francis, when rebuked
+by his father for a rash and impulsive act of charity, stripped off
+his clothes, then threw them at his father’s feet, and took refuge
+under the robe of the Bishop of Assisi. In the earlier version
+the architectural background splits the composition in two,
+adding to its intensity perhaps, but displeasing to the eye.
+Here in the late version a fine building seen in perspective
+both unifies the two groups and serves as apex for the decorative
+axis of the entire side wall.</p>
+
+<div id='f_021'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_021.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 21.</span> Giotto. St. Francis renounces his Father. Compare <span class='sc'>Fig. 9</span>.—<em>Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>More remarkable still is the contrast between St. Francis
+Braving the Fire Ordeal before the Soldan, Figure <a href='#f_022'>22</a>, as depicted
+at Assisi and Florence. We have to do not merely with an immense
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>advance in decorative composition, the accessories at
+Assisi being trivial and fantastic; not merely with progress
+towards a gracious symmetry and more massive and impressive
+form, but also with a complete change of moral point of
+view. At Assisi the Soldan is an ogre exacting a cruel test.
+The Moslem priests are a cowardly pack of magicians ignobly
+slinking away, St. Francis a grim fanatic. At Florence the
+Soldan is a noble and humane gentleman, amazed at an unreasonable
+ordeal forced upon his wise men. The Moslem doctors
+are splendid scholars grudgingly shrinking from an unfair
+test, St. Francis an alert little enthusiast half gloating over
+the confusion he has thrown into the enemy camp. With a by
+no means orthodox feeling, old Giotto, humanistic Giotto,
+almost seems to take, or at least to see, the pagans’ side of it.
+He who had written a manly poem against the excesses and
+hypocrisies of the Franciscan ideal of poverty, is now capable
+of criticizing the more extravagant propagandism of the saint
+himself.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It is a criticism that admits all tenderness and sympathy,
+as may be seen in the famous fresco representing the Mourning
+over the body of St. Francis while his soul is translated to
+heaven, Figure <a href='#f_023'>23</a>. Again John Ruskin is your best interpreter
+to this picture, which after all only needs to be seen.
+It combines all the qualities for which Giotto had striven—warmth,
+vivacity, ingenuity, unexpectedness in the narrative
+details; massiveness and dignity of the individual forms; and
+a decorative symmetry at once monumental, formal, and delightfully
+varied.</p>
+
+<div id='f_022'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>
+<img src='images/f_022.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 22.</span> Giotto. St. Francis before the Soldan. Compare Fig. <a href='#f_011'>11</a>.—<em>Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_023'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_023.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 23.</span> Giotto. Death of St. Francis.—<em>Bardi Chapel, Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>With this noble and deeply felt composition we virtually
+take leave of Giotto. For though he lived for many years
+yet, the works of his old age have largely perished. In the
+chapel at Assisi dedicated to St. Mary Magdalen are fine frescoes
+in which he surely had a leading part. From 1330 to 1333
+he worked at Naples for King Robert of Anjou. Nothing remains from this visit except certain shrewd jests which the
+painter exchanged with the King. In 1334 Florence recalled
+him, and made him <i><span lang="it">capomaestro</span></i> of the Cathedral. Giotto
+designed the flower-like tower which rises lightly beside the
+temple of Our Lady of the
+Flower, invented and perhaps
+cut in marble certain reliefs on
+the base representing the crafts
+of men, but did not live to see
+the loveliest of bell towers
+finished. The task was completed
+by his pupil and artistic
+executor, Taddeo Gaddi. In the
+last years Giotto conceived vast
+compositions of a religious and
+political sort for the public
+buildings of the Commune.
+There were allegories of a strong
+and weak state, in the Bargello,
+the prison-fortress of the Captain
+of the People. These great symbolical designs are a kind
+of missing link between Giotto and the panoramic painters who
+followed him. We may find an echo of this lost work in the
+Civic Allegories in the Palazzo Pubblico of Siena. These
+were doing at the moment of Giotto’s death by a Sienese
+painter, Ambrogio Lorenzetti, who had studied the great
+Florentine master devoutly. Nothing of Giotto’s latest phase
+is left save a few figures in the battered frescoes in the Bargello
+which contain the idealized portrait of youthful Dante, Figure
+<a href='#f_024'>24</a>, and the gracious Dormition of the Virgin at Berlin,
+Frontispiece.</p>
+
+<div id='f_024'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_024.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 24.</span> Giotto. Dante, tracing from the ruined fresco in the Bargello.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Just before Giotto died, the tyrant of Milan borrowed him
+from Florence. Giotto soon returned, to die early in the year
+1337, being seventy years old. Almost single-handed he had
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>made Italian painting. He had lent life and warmth to the
+cold and academic reform of the Roman painters. He had
+expressed a maximum of feeling, without sacrifice of dignity.
+He had worked out beautiful and impressive forms of composition
+wherein symmetry and contrast met harmoniously.
+He had mastered the expression of mass on a plane surface
+with a certainty and energy no artist before had even imagined,
+and that few since have equalled. He had forecast and
+led the way in every manner of realistic figure painting.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Florence, when true to herself, could only repeat Giotto in
+one phase or another of his activity. In her casual and sprightly
+mood, she carries on the method of Giotto’s stories of St.
+Francis at Assisi, in mystical reflection and symbolism she
+must build on the allegories over St. Francis’ tomb and on the
+lost political frescoes; in her mood of strenuous search for reality
+she can but repeat the Paduan chapter of Giotto’s strivings,
+in rare moments of vision and fulfilment she will merely
+begin where the Santa Croce frescoes of Giotto ended.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>However Giotto be ranked, and personally I see no greater
+artist on the rolls of history, his is indisputably the greatest
+single achievement; for no other artist who accomplished so
+much began with so little. It was no exaggeration that made
+Lorenzo Ghiberti regard the advent of Giotto as the coming to
+life of an art that had been buried for centuries. It is indeed
+the measured classicism of Giotto’s art that constitutes its
+greatness—its sweet and lucid reasonableness, its rugged yet
+disciplined strength. Seneca or Marcus Aurelius would have
+understood it perfectly, as Giotto himself, for his mellow wisdom
+and wit, would have been a welcome visitor at Horace’s
+Sabine farm. In his broad and flexible insight, his love of
+mankind, his clear perceptions of aims and ready acceptance
+of limitations, in his pathos without exaggeration, in his constructive
+skill without ostentation, in his simplicity without
+bareness, he is the authentic and indispensable link between
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>the beauty of Greece and Rome and that of the Italian Golden
+Age. To know him is to know almost everything that is needful
+about older European painting, not to know him is to lack
+the very rudiments of an artistic education.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Giotto left many followers,<a id='r12'></a><a href='#f12' class='c012'><sup>[12]</sup></a> not one of whom at all understood
+his greatness. Like his friend Dante, he was distantly
+admired, but really loved only in bits. As perceptive a person
+as the artist biographer Vasari lavishes praise upon Giotto for
+his more trivial inventions—the Christ Child struggling out
+of the arms of the High Priest, for example. So Giotto’s followers
+picked unintelligently from his great accomplishment,
+choosing what the master himself would least have valued—his
+simple contours without his significant mass, his variety
+and vivacity without his warmth and restraint. On their own
+account they added complication. The sparse economy of
+Giotto’s best work could never have appealed to Florence at
+large. Something richer and gayer was wanted, more like
+Florentine life itself as it became after the general loosening
+up of manners and morals following the plague of 1348. Its
+chronicler, the author of the “Decameron,” fairly represents
+the new spirit. The best of the younger painters have indeed
+something of Boccaccio’s mentality—his light touch, his
+charm, his panoramic richness, his fluid and undisciplined
+grace. Thus arises what I may call the panoramic style of
+fresco painting—superficial, full of episodes and accessories,
+still religious in theme, but mundane in spirit, often cleverly
+conceived, and very superficially felt. These artists had
+grasped neither the meaning of Giotto’s drawing nor the
+beauty of his decorative formulas, they saw only his variety
+and energy. Meanwhile a great Sienese painter, Ambrogio
+Lorenzetti, a profound admirer of Giotto, had worked out a
+nobly spectacular form of painting in which the stage setting
+was elaborate and realistic. He painted much in Florence
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>about 1334 and his novelties allured the new men. So we find
+fresco painting tending in a scenic direction, and panel painting
+following the same course more conservatively—not merely
+in Florence and Siena, but throughout Northern Italy as well.</p>
+
+<div id='f_025'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_025.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 25.</span> Giotto’s Assistant at Assisi. Flight into Egypt. Compare Figure <a href='#f_014'>14</a>.—<em>Lower Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_026'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>
+<img src='images/f_026.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 26.</span> Taddeo Gaddi. St. Joachim Meets St. Anna. Compare <span class='sc'>Fig.</span> 13<em>a</em>.—<em>Baroncelli Chapel, Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Many of Giotto’s immediate pupils are mere names to us.
+Maso, whom the sculptor commentator Ghiberti praised for
+his sweetness, Stefano whom he dubbed the “ape of nature,”
+Puccio Capanna—their work must be at Assisi, but criticism
+has not succeeded in clearly disengaging it. The nameless
+master who executed the Franciscan allegories at Assisi and
+designed the stories of Christ’s youthful days, in the adjoining
+right transept, is the most accomplished and individual follower
+of Giotto. He works for grace, pathos, sumptuousness,
+and decorative breadth. He is a Giotto with the angles rubbed
+down. By comparing Giotto’s Flight of the Holy Family to
+Egypt, with the later version at Assisi, Figure <a href='#f_025'>25</a>, we may grasp
+the difference between master and scholar. Giotto is brusque,
+harsh, noble; the flight through a rocky defile gives a sense
+of urgency and peril; the composition carries forward like the
+ram of a battleship. In the version at Assisi the flight has
+become an attractive family excursion through a romantic
+valley; the mood is gentle, charming, unspecific. A moment
+in an epic has been attenuated into an idyl. This master
+never fails to express a dreamy sort of poetry, and in such
+compositions as the Massacre of the Innocents, and the Calvary,
+he commands a genuine pathos. He is exactly what
+Giotto might have been, had he skipped the strenuous Paduan
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>phase, and become a decorator without the preliminary discipline
+of the draughtsman. There are reasons for thinking that
+this work was done by a shop assistant of Giotto’s, who for
+many years directed the decoration of the Lower Church at
+Assisi in Giotto’s stead. Some of the work in the Childhood
+of Christ, I believe, may be as late as 1330 to 1335.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Taddeo Gaddi is a more definite and less pleasing personality.
+He was Giotto’s godson and his assistant for twenty-four
+years, presumably from 1313 to 1337, as well as his
+artistic executor. Whether in panel or fresco, he was an admirable
+craftsman; in tempera, a fine colorist. His panels are
+widely scattered, some ten being in the United States; his
+frescoes, all that we need to note, are in Santa Croce. In the
+Baroncelli Chapel, just after Giotto’s death, Taddeo finished
+these frescoes of the early life of the Virgin, repeating
+themes which Giotto had used both in Padua and elsewhere
+in Santa Croce itself. His way of competing with Giotto is to
+stir and add and mix things up. Compare the meeting of Anna
+and Joachim at the Beautiful Gate in the two masters; Giotto
+at Padua is grave, noble, heartfelt; how he discriminates
+between the masculine clutch of the old husband and the
+tender embrace of the wife—how drastic the conception is,
+but also how clear and stately. Poor Taddeo on the other
+hand brings the sacred pair together with the bounce of a modern
+dance, Figure <a href='#f_026'>26</a>. He brings no brains to bear, and almost no
+feelings, just a sprightly and wholly casual inventiveness. Certain
+delightful little panels with stories of Christ and St. Francis
+which he did in Giotto’s shop for the doors of the sacristy
+wardrobes of Santa Croce remind us of the pity that he ever
+ceased to be an interpreter of a greater man’s designs. In
+the fresco of Job’s trials, in the Campo Santo, Pisa, he seems
+nearly a great artist. Conceivably he worked on designs of
+his late master. At least he had a certain critical sense, for
+at an artist’s reunion at San Miniato, about 1360, he told
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>Andrea Orcagna and the rest of the company that painting
+had constantly declined since Giotto and was declining every
+day. He transmitted, his sound craftsmanship to a son, Agnolo,
+who decorated the Choir of Santa Croce with the legends of
+the Cross. He carried down the
+panoramic style to the end of
+the 14th century, practicing it
+with more taste than his father,
+achieving a grace without much
+inwardness or force.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A later contemporary of
+Giotto’s, Buonamico Buffalmacco,<a id='r13'></a><a href='#f13' class='c012'><sup>[13]</sup></a>
+seems to have inherited
+something of Giotto’s power,
+but the identification of his work
+is very uncertain, and he lives
+for us chiefly as an egregious
+wag in the pages of the Italian
+story writers.</p>
+
+<div id='f_027'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_027.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 27.</span> Giottino. Deposition—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>From another contemporary
+and possibly a scholar of
+Giotto, Bernardo Daddi, we have many panel pictures and a
+few frescoes at Santa Croce. He is an admirable craftsman,
+and a sincere illustrator, within his limitations, applying very
+competently to panel painting something of the panoramic
+realism of Ambrogio Lorenzetti. A prolific artist, his exquisitely
+finished little panels are quite common. In America
+are good examples in the New York Historical Society, in the
+Platt Collection, Englewood, and a more monumental piece
+in the Johnson Collection, Philadelphia. He lived well beyond
+the middle of the century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giottino, who possibly is to be identified with Giotto’s pupil
+Maso, is a more delicate spirit with unusual resources of pathos.
+His best work is an altar-piece of the Deposition, Figure <a href='#f_027'>27</a>,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>painted about 1360 for the Church of San Remigio at Florence
+and now in the Uffizi. A preference for isolated figures and for
+vertical lines is noteworthy, as is the wistfulness of the
+attendant donors. Similar qualities of delicate precision as
+of dispersion are in the frescoes in Santa Croce which represent
+the Miracles of Pope Sylvester. The note is feminine
+and rather Sienese than genuinely Florentine.</p>
+
+<div id='f_028'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_028.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 28.</span> Andrea Orcagna. Christ conferring authority upon St. Peter and St. Thomas Aquinas.—<em>Strozzi Chapel, Santa Maria Novella.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Outside of Giotto’s <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> arose the rare continuers of his
+tradition. Such an artist flourished about the middle of the
+century in the person of Andrea di Cione, better known by
+his nickname of Orcagna. He was more of a sculptor and
+architect than a painter, a man of dignity and force, a poet
+and thinker. Although not a pupil of Giotto, he studied that
+master’s work admiringly, and sought to reproduce its massiveness.
+Its brusqueness he largely rejected. Instead of
+sketching the draperies summarily, he drew the folds carefully
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>after the model; he liked to treat the panel and wall as
+a whole, where Giotto had accepted the tradition of subdivision;
+he gave to his faces a greater sweetness and he occasionally
+attempted foreshortenings and impetuosities of gesture
+that Giotto would have avoided. Unluckily Orcagna’s most
+important frescoes have perished. We may grasp his nobility
+in the altar-piece which he finished and dated in 1357, Figure <a href='#f_028'>28</a>,
+for the chapel of the Strozzi family at Santa Maria Novella.
+The formality of the composition is noteworthy, as is the stately
+sweetness of the Madonna. The subject is Christ delegating
+his Power and Wisdom respectively to St. Peter and to St.
+Thomas Aquinas.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the same chapel the figure of Christ leaning forward over
+a cloud and making the sublime gesture that decrees the end
+of the world and the Judgment Day, Figure <a href='#f_029'>29</a>, is probably
+designed by Orcagna, as are the larger figures below. We have
+here one of the freest and grandest conceptions of the period.
+The lovely garden-like heaven and the quaint and ingenious hell
+on the side walls are by Orcagna’s brother, Nardo di Cione. The
+mood is less grave than Orcagna’s, variety counts for more.
+The heads of the saints are of a most delicate beauty. Nardo
+has many of the qualities of the panoramic painters without their
+heedlessness. He represents a compromise between the severity
+of Giotto and the diffuseness of his own day. He worked indefatigably
+until 1366, and his younger brother, Jacopo, and
+his imitator, Mariotto, continued the manner almost into the
+new century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Orcagna was perhaps more versatile than critics have supposed.
+Recently discovered fragments of frescoes in Santa
+Croce, Figure <a href='#f_030'>30</a>, show a drastic power that no other Florentine
+possessed. The theme is miserable folk in time of pestilence
+crying out to Death to end their sorrows. The entire fresco
+would have shown Death passing them by and poising the
+scythe for prosperous and happy folk beyond. The whole scene
+exists in the famous frescoes of the Pisan Campo Santo which,
+while traditionally ascribed to Orcagna, are unquestionably of
+Sienese inspiration. They will occupy us later. Orcagna’s solitary
+position in Florence reminds us that artistic succession
+is rarely from master to pupil, but from great soul to great
+soul across intervening mediocrity.</p>
+
+<div id='f_030'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>
+<img src='images/f_030.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 30.</span> Andrea Orcagna. They call Death in Vain. Fragment from ruined fresco of the Triumph of Death.—<em>Santa Croce.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_029'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_029.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 29.</span> Andrea Orcagna. Upper part of Fresco of Last Judgment.—<em>Strozzi Chapel, Santa Maria Novella.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>Giorgio Vasari regarded Gherardo Starnina (active before
+1400) as an important link between Giotto and the Renaissance,
+and if Professor Suida is right in ascribing the frescoes
+of the legend of St. Nicholas in the Castellani Chapel, Santa
+Croce, to Starnina, Vasari was quite right. About this mysterious
+pupil of Antonio Veneziano who worked in Spain, we
+really know almost nothing. But the St. Nicholas frescoes
+have a grimness and gravity which points back to Giotto and
+withal a careful fusion of light and shade which anticipates
+Masolino and Masaccio. Meanwhile Giotto’s own great compositions
+in still undiminished splendor and impressiveness
+stood ready to give lessons to the eye and mind that could read
+them aright. Before such later panoramists as Niccolò di
+Pietro Gerini, Mariotto di Nardo, and Spinello Aretino were
+gone, that eye was already busy, in the person of a rugged
+little boy of San Giovanni in Valdarno. He may have already
+been called Masaccio for his untidiness. He was to rebuild
+on Giotto and create the grand style of the Renaissance.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A mere catalogue of those painters who pursued the panoramic
+method with ability can hardly be expected. One and
+all they followed the Sienese narrative style. Prominent would
+be certain incomers from other cities, Giovanni da Milano,
+Antonio Veneziano, and Spinello Aretino. These are typical
+decorators of the last quarter of the 14th century.</p>
+
+<div id='f_031'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>
+<img src='images/f_031.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 31.</span> Andrea Bonaiuti, The Navicella, fresco, closely imitated from Giotto’s Mosaic at St. Peter’s, Rome.—<em>Spanish Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We do better to fix our attention upon the most remarkable
+example of the Florentine panoramic style, the decoration of
+the Spanish Chapel, the chapter house attached to the Dominican
+Church of Santa Maria Novella.<a id='r14'></a><a href='#f14' class='c012'><sup>[14]</sup></a> The work
+was begun by Andrea Bonaiuti in the year 1365, as we
+know from a recently discovered document. As decoration it
+is delightful, if rather superficially so. The artist treats his
+spaces as wholes, declining to cut them up into oblongs after
+the earlier fashion. He covers his great surfaces with ease and
+taste, has a knack at illustration, and a fine sense of color. The
+great Calvary over the triumphal arch imposes from its very
+vastness; the triangles of the cross vault, including a spirited
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>transcript of Giotto’s Navicella, Figure <a href='#f_031'>31</a>, are composed with
+clarity and skill; the famous composition of the Dominican theologian,
+St. Thomas Aquinas, enthroned above the Liberal
+Arts and Sciences, and their representatives in history, combines
+an almost Byzantine formality and grandeur with
+prettiness and ingenuity in details. But the method is better
+shown in the decoration opposite, which represents the dual
+earthly powers, the Pope and the Emperor, enthroned equally,
+and supported by the representatives of the spiritual orders
+and secular estates, Figure <a href='#f_032'>32</a>. The group which symbolizes the
+right government of society, according to mediæval ideas, is set
+before a church which quite faithfully shows what the Cathedral
+of Florence was then intended to be. High up in the
+arch is the goal of all earthly endeavor—Heaven with Christ
+enthroned amid the angels; an altar with a lamb before Him,
+symbolizing His sacrifice; His Mother kneeling as intercessor
+for mankind. The Gate of Heaven with St. Peter in attendance,
+is naïvely set above the church on a sort of aerial raft.
+Below is a novel realistic touch, the villa-studded sky line of
+hills which encloses Florence. The real guide to St. Peter’s
+presence is always a Dominican monk, usually St. Dominic
+himself is intended—the founder and militant evangelist of
+the order, as St. Thomas Aquinas was its systematic theologian.
+In the lower range of the picture, St. Dominic confutes
+the heretics, who tear their wicked books in despair. Above
+he vainly beseeches careless gentlefolk at dalliance in an orange
+grove; still higher, he leads the truly penitent to Heaven’s gate.
+At the foot the Domini Canes (a bad pun for Dominicans)
+are vigilant. The moral of the fresco is, happy the world
+which trusts its worldly and religious business to the Emperor
+and the Pope, and its personal religious problems to the Dominicans.
+It is a kind of glorified poster for the order.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In its sprightliness, variety, complication and facile charm,
+it is a fine example of the panoramic style. It lacks every
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>quality of seriousness whether as a composition or in the
+drawing of the figures. But its fairy tale profuseness and ease
+have made it ever since it was painted, one of the most popular
+decorations in Italy. Its success shows the kind of taste with
+which the few disciplined artists of the fourteenth century had
+to contend. Such obstacles have ever been the fate of the artist
+who cares enough for his art to practice it austerely.</p>
+
+<div id='f_032'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_032.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 32.</span> Andrea Bonaiuti. Dominican Allegory of Church and State. Fresco.—<em>Spanish Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Work of the facile and superficial character of the Spanish
+Chapel Florence produced in abundance for two generations
+after Giotto’s death. His faithful but dull disciple, Taddeo
+Gaddi, as we have seen, gloomily foresaw the downfall of the
+art of painting. But as in a great personality the recreations
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>and even dissipations seldom permanently eclipse the greater
+purpose, so Florence was big enough to indulge for a time her
+weaker side. Had Taddeo Gaddi been more intelligent, or
+even more hopeful, he would have seen that new masters must
+arise, and that there would soon be pictures in Florence at
+which Giotto come back to earth would gaze with that humility
+with which he had once viewed the marble gods of Rome,
+with that understanding sympathy which he had borne to
+all his fellow mortals.</p>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On the Dignity and Wealth of Old Florence</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>Giovanni Villani, <cite>Historie</cite>, XII, 4, regrets the passing of decorum with
+the advent of the French and the Duke of Athens in 1342, but wealth
+increased.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“Formerly the clothing and costumes [of the Florentines] was the
+most beautiful, noble and distinguished of any nation, in the manner
+of the togaed Romans.” Evidently the look of things favored the art
+of a Giotto.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In book XI, ch. 91–93, Villani gives remarkable and quite modern
+statistics which I paraphrase and quote, in part from the Giunta edition,
+Venice, 1559. The time is about 1340.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“We found by diligence that in these times there were in Florence
+25,000 men fit to bear arms, from 15 to 70 years old, among whom there
+were 1506 nobles.... There were then in Florence 65 fully equipped
+knights, though before the middle class which now rules was organized,
+there were more than 250 knights.... There was estimated to be
+90,000&#160;... men, women and children in the city. There is supposed
+to be generally in the city 1,500 foreigners, travellers, and soldiers not
+counting in the population the clergy, monks, and nuns.... In the
+outlying districts are supposed to be 80,000 people. We have found
+from the rector who baptizes the children (since for every male who
+was baptized in San Giovanni—in order to have the count—was
+dropped a black bean, and for every female a white) that for every
+year in these times there were from 5,800 to 6,000, the males generally
+exceeding by 300 to 500 a year.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“We find that the boys and girls at [primary] school were from 8,000
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>to 10,000. The boys who study the abacus (calculation) and arabic
+numbers, in six schools, from 1,000 to 1,200. And those who are learning
+[Latin] grammar and logic, in four great schools, from 550 to 600.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“The churches, which were then in Florence and in the suburbs,
+counting the abbeys, and monastic churches, we find to be 110, of which
+57, parish churches&#160;... 5 abbeys and two priories with 80 monks, 24
+convents of nuns, with more than 500 women, 10 friaries with more
+than 700 friars, 30 hospitals with more than 1000 beds to lodge
+the poor and infirm, and from 250 to 300 chaplain priests.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“The shops of the cloth makers (<i><span lang="it">arte della lana</span></i>) were 200 and more,
+and they made from 70,000 to 80,000 bolts, at a value of more than
+1,200,000 gold florins, although fully a third part staid in the city for
+the workers, without gain for the cloth handlers, and the workers
+are more than 30,000 persons....</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“The warehouses of the art of the <em>Calimala</em>, for the French and transalpine
+cloth, were 20, which brought in per year more than 10,000 bolts
+of a value of 300,000 gold florins, all of which was sold in Florence....</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Banks of money changers 80.... Shops of bootmakers&#160;... 300.
+The college of judges, from 80 to 100. And notaries from 600 up, doctors
+of physic and surgery 60, and druggists’ shops 100....</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“The greater part of the well-to-do, rich, and noble citizens with
+their families, staid in the country for four months, and some, more,
+a year.”...</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“Other dignities and magnificences of our city of Florence I should
+not fail to bring to memory, for information of such as shall come after
+us. It was, within, well built with many beautiful palaces and houses,
+and in these times they were continually demolishing, thus bettering
+the building by making it more comfortable and rich, bringing in from
+outside the examples for every sort of betterment and beauty. Churches,
+cathedrals, friaries of every rule, monasteries, magnificent and rich.
+Furthermore, there was no citizen who did not have a country place,
+great or small, which was not richly built, indeed far greater buildings
+than in the city; and every citizen sinned by inordinate spending,
+whence they were thought crazy. But it was so magnificent a thing to
+see, that a foreigner, not used to coming in, believed, because of the
+rich structures for three miles about, that it was all one city after the
+manner of Rome, not to mention the rich palaces, towers, court yards,
+terraced gardens, still further from the city, which in any other country
+would have been called the rural districts. In short one would have
+thought that within six miles of the city were more rich and noble inhabitants,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>than, taking them together, two Florences could have produced.
+And let this suffice for telling of the facts of Florence.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Giotto’s View of Franciscan Poverty</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>Giotto’s humanistic detachment from the Franciscan doctrine of
+voluntary poverty is well illustrated in his poem which is quoted in part
+from Dante Gabriel Rosetti’s translation. The original is in G.
+Milanesis’ edition of Vasari, <cite>Le Vite</cite>, Vol. I, Florence 1878, pp. 426–8.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Many there are, praisers of Poverty;</div>
+      <div class='line'>The which as man’s best state is register’d</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>When by free choice preferr’d,</div>
+      <div class='line'>With strict observance, having nothing here.</div>
+      <div class='line'>For this they find certain authority</div>
+      <div class='line'>Wrought of an over-nice interpreting.</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Now as concerns such thing,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A hard extreme to me it doth appear,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Which to commend I fear,</div>
+      <div class='line'>For seldom are extremes without some vice,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Let every edifice,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Of work or word, secure foundation find;</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Against the potent wind,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And all things perilous, so well prepared—</div>
+      <div class='line'>That it needs no correction afterward.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>A Contract with Orcagna for the Altar-Piece of 1357</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>Tommaso di Rossello Strozzi left a rough note of the terms of the
+contract for the altar-piece of his chapel. Doubtless the actual contract
+was much fuller. The minute is published by Filippo Baldinucci, <cite>Opere</cite>,
+Milano 1811, Vol IV. p. 397.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“Herewith is to be written [on my part] and Andrea called Orcagna
+that I Tommaso di Rossello aforesaid have given to paint for the altar-piece
+which is made for the altar of [the chapel] in Santa Maria Novella,
+of a breadth of five braccia, 1 sol. [over 10 feet] there or thereabouts.
+The aforesaid Andrea is to paint in fine and splendid colors; and gold,
+silver and everything else are truly to be used in the entire panel and
+pinnacles, that is [gold] leaf. Only in the side columns may silver
+be used.... And [with] as many figures as [directed] by me
+Tommaso it shall be completed. And the said panel to be entirely
+painted by his own hand.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“<a href='#f1' class='c012'><sup>[1]</sup></a> 354 in twenty months....</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>“Should it come about that the aforesaid Andrea should not give it
+to us completed and painted.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“He should pay me for every additional week that he works at the
+painting as it shall seem right to the judgment of the here named arbitrators.”...</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“Should it come to more than the aforesaid price, we will take the
+judgment of Carlo, Paolo and Fra Jacopo.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such is approximately the sense of this very difficult and quite grammarless
+annotation of Tommaso Strozzi. The arbitrators must have had
+occasion to act, for the panel is dated 1357, two years after the promised
+time.</p>
+
+<div id='f_033'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>
+<img src='images/f_033.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 33.</span> Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Madonna of San Francesco.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter II</span></span><br> SIENA AND THE CONTINUING OF THE MEDIÆVAL STYLE</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='c011'>On the Romantic instability of Siena—Fidelity to Byzantine Ideals—Guido,
+Coppo, the Master of the Altar-front of St. Peter—Duccio and
+his great Majesty of the Madonna—His twofold tendency: to
+elaborated staged narrative; to sparse and exquisite decoration—Simone
+Martini and the Idealistic chivalric style—The Brothers Lorenzetti
+and the popular panoramic style—Second half of the Fourteenth
+Century—The Fifteenth Century: Sassetta and Giovanni de Paolo—Matteo,
+Benvenuto and Neroccio—The Renaissance and the downfall
+of the School, Francesco di Giorgio, Sodoma.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>As you enter Siena by the wide Camollia gate you will read
+in Latin “Siena opens her Heart still wider to thee”:—<i><span lang="it">Cor
+magis tibi Sena pandit.</span></i> Thus Siena avows herself the city of
+the heart. Where Florence studied and calculated, she mused
+and dreamed; where Florence was solid, she was volatile.
+For unrewarding idealisms she had a kind of genius. Long
+after the other Italian communes had seen it was worst possible
+business to support the emperor, Siena was faithful to
+that lost cause. Every few years she changed her form of
+government, and seldom for the better. Merrymaking and
+pageantry were universal in old Italy, but Siena alone had a
+Spendthrift Club (<i><span lang="it">Brigata Spendereccia</span></i>) devoted to continual
+pleasure, and a poet, Folgore da San Gemignano, to celebrate
+its gaieties. Siena was ardent in inconstant fashion. Early
+in the 14th century was found a nude marble Venus so beautiful
+that it was set up in the great square and thronged with admirers.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>Then the war with Florence went badly, and at
+a few words from a pious fanatic, the citizenry smashed up
+the image and secretly buried the bits on Florentine soil to
+bring bad luck to the foe. Naturally no bad luck ensued to
+Florence, but Siena had enjoyed two delightful emotional
+crises. You will see why Siena never could produce a realistic
+art, any more than Ireland has produced one. Her eye was
+not on the object but on her own state of mind. Thus Florence
+will produce historians, scientists, and politicians, while Siena
+will produce saints and miracles.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Amid this romantic inconstancy, the continuing thread
+was the cult of the Blessed Virgin. No other city thought
+so delicately of her, and no other art has represented her so
+ideally. Had she not saved the city? In 1259 the Florentine
+Guelfs and their allies marched with overwhelming force to
+the very gates of Siena. Ruin was imminent and despair
+abroad, when by a common impulse the populace marched
+penitently to the Cathedral and before the rude picture of
+the Queen of Heaven solemnly committed the city into her
+hands. In ecstacy of renewed faith the inferior army of Siena
+fell upon the invaders at Montaperti and utterly routed them.
+In gratitude Siena remained the city of the Virgin. When in
+1310 the painter Duccio replaced the rude effigy of the
+Madonna of Victory with one of the finest Madonnas known to
+art, Fig. <a href='#f_037'>37</a>, the whole city suspended business and escorted
+the picture from the studio to the Cathedral with hymns and
+litanies in honor of their divine patroness.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Nowhere else has painting paid such homage to the Virgin
+Mary. In other cities it was enough to represent her enthroned
+with a handful of angels or saints in attendance. The Sienese
+painters multiplied the celestial escort until it became a heavenly
+court over which the Mother of God presides in sweet
+majesty. Siena also grasped at the then not quite orthodox subject
+of the Assumption of the Virgin into Heaven. You see
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>her slender form rising amid a glory of angels more than a
+hundred years before the theme was common elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>These brief hints will tell of the temper of Siena. You will
+not expect such a city to be like Florence, interested in facts
+and charmed by the human
+spectacle. She will be rather
+engrossed with the beauty of
+old legends and in rare forward-looking
+moments concerned with
+her own devout imaginings.
+She will not wish the saints to
+be like the people one knows,
+but like denizens of some divine,
+far-off fairyland. Her painting
+will not be humanistic but of an
+unworldly idealism.</p>
+
+<div id='f_034'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_034.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 34.</span>  Guido of Siena. Madonna.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such being the temper of
+Siena, her artists, unlike those
+of Florence, had no quarrel with
+the Byzantine style. Its splendid
+irreality only needed to be
+made flexible and gracious.
+Siena has really no new ideas to express, merely feelings
+more tender and exquisite. Her pictorial reforms are reverent
+and gradual, backward-looking, mediæval. Her art from 1300
+to 1500, as lovely within its narrow limits as the closed garden
+of the Virgin, has the great interest of teaching us what capacities
+for growth lay in the mediæval tradition itself—what
+painting in Italy would have been had Siena exercised her
+temporary might after Montaperti and razed Florence five
+years before Giotto was born.</p>
+
+<div id='f_035'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>
+<img src='images/f_035.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 35.</span> Sienese about 1275. Altar-front of St. Peter.—<em>Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A little earlier than the year 1225, when Florence called
+in strangers to adorn the Baptistery with mosaics in the
+Greek style, Guido of Siena signed and dated 1221 the most
+famous of his madonnas. Unhappily the enthroned Virgin
+of the Palazzo Pubblico was repainted some fifty years later,
+a fact which has led many critics unnecessarily to doubt the
+date.<a id='r15'></a><a href='#f15' class='c012'><sup>[15]</sup></a> But from half a dozen other pictures by Guido
+we may learn that he was a diligent and rather heavy-handed
+imitator of the current Greek formulas, Figure <a href='#f_034'>34</a>. At the
+battle of Montaperti the Sienese captured an excellent Florentine
+painter, Coppo di Marcovaldo, and in 1261 he painted
+the admirable madonna which is still in the church of the Servi.
+It shows a sensitive use of the Byzantine conventions. There
+is pensiveness and almost shyness in the face and posture of
+the Virgin, and loving intentness in that of the Child. Their
+relation is to each other and not as in earlier madonnas to the
+devout public. These intimate qualities have been ascribed,
+I think wrongly, to restoration. But they appear even more
+emphatically in the entirely unrestored Madonna, Figure <a href='#f_003'>3</a>,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>in the collection of Mr. Otto Kahn, which I think may be a
+Coppo<a id='r16'></a><a href='#f16' class='c012'><sup>[16]</sup></a>, and is in any case of similar date and feeling.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The same process of sweetening the old style while accepting
+it, is shown in the famous altar-piece of St. Peter in the Academy
+at Siena, Figure <a href='#f_035'>35</a>. The gaunt
+figure of the Saint is completely traditional,
+the little stories of the Annunciation
+and Nativity at the side
+show a new vivacity and a new grace.
+Siena met the innovating painter
+more than half way, for the indignant
+citizens soon marred with their knives
+the crucifiers of the head of the
+Christian Church. The date of the
+panel will not be far from 1275, and
+already the painter of genius who was
+to create the sweet, new style was
+learning his trade.</p>
+
+<div id='f_036'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_036.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 36.</span> Duccio Purcellai Madonna.—<em>Santa Maria Novella, Florence.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of Duccio di Buoninsegna, the
+father of the Sienese school, and
+everything considered its greatest master, we have numerous
+records,<a id='r17'></a><a href='#f17' class='c012'><sup>[17]</sup></a> and by no means all to his credit. He must
+have had the artistic temperament in a degree then unusual.
+The court records show half a dozen fines against him, and
+he was not scrupulous about paying his debts. One forgets
+these foibles before those Madonnas which are a consummate
+expression of taste and those narratives which are a triumph
+of tact and ingenuity. Duccio’s mind does not grasp the
+harsher and more heroic emotions, but within the realm of
+the tender and pathetic he is supreme. His elegance appears
+in his first important work, the famous Rucellai Madonna,
+Figure <a href='#f_036'>36</a>, in Santa Maria Novella at Florence, which tradition
+erroneously ascribes to Cimabue. It is presumably
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>the great panel which Duccio contracted to paint in 1285.<a id='r18'></a><a href='#f18' class='c012'><sup>[18]</sup></a>
+He was probably young and unconsidered, for he took all
+the risks, agreeing that the picture might be rejected at the
+will of the patrons. The Society of Saint Mary the Virgin
+would have been foolish indeed to reject the most gracious
+Madonna the world had then seen. Characteristic of Duccio
+are the swaying curves of the contours and especially of the
+draperies, the thin, delicately folded robes of the Child and
+the attendant angels and the sensitively drawn bare feet.
+Working in Florence and doubtless impressed by Cimabue,
+Duccio has retained in this early work a certain austerity
+which gives way in his later work to a more feminine sweetness.
+For that very reason the Rucellai Madonna is perhaps
+the greatest Madonna of the century, since without loss of
+the stately Byzantine qualities, she gains the new attributes
+of grace. It was no wonder that when the name of Duccio
+had faded out of the Florentine memory, Florence ascribed
+this noble Madonna to the venerated founder of her native
+school, Cimabue. Recent criticism has righted the unconscious
+wrong thus done to Siena.</p>
+
+<div id='f_037'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_037.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 37.</span> Duccio. Madonna in Majesty.—<em>Opera del Duomo, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>To mature his style Duccio needed only to intensify the
+qualities of sweetness and grace which are evident already in
+the Rucellai Madonna. The stages of his growth are represented
+in minor works at Siena and in British and Roman
+collections. But his fame, for the layman, is associated with
+the magnificent altar-piece which he executed for the Cathedral
+of Siena, and only the special student need look beyond it.
+On the 9th of October, 1309, Duccio contracted with the
+trustees of the Cathedral to do a great altar-piece wholly with
+his own hands, at the rate of sixteen soldi a day and expenses.
+He promised to take no other work during the painting. It
+was finished in June of 1311 and carried in solemn procession
+from the bottega outside the Porta a Stalloreggi to the
+Cathedral. A chronicler describes the cortege “parading about
+the Campo, as is usual, all the bells pealing a glory in devotion
+for so noble a picture as this is.... And all that day they kept
+praying with many alms which were given to poor folk, praying
+to God and His Mother, who is our advocate, that she
+defend us in her infinite mercy from every adversity and
+every ill, and save us from the hands of traitors and foes of
+Siena.” Most characteristic of the febrile patriotism of Siena
+is this constant dread of the traitor.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>About a year before this ceremony the trustees enlarged
+the scheme for the picture, making an additional contract for
+thirty-eight stories to be paid at the rate of two florins and a
+half each. These were put on the back of the altar-piece,
+covering very fully the life of Christ and that of the Virgin.
+Thus the front of the altar-piece represents the decorative
+and monumental ideals of Sienese painting while the back
+exemplifies its feeling for narrative. Everything that Sienese
+painting was to be is already in germ in this marvellous work.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In depicting the Virgin “in Majesty,” Figure <a href='#f_037'>37</a>, Duccio
+has magnified the theme. Earlier pictures show only a handful
+of angels in attendance. Here we have a cloud of celestial
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>witnesses, the four patrons of Siena kneeling in the foreground,
+at the sides charming alternation of grim, bearded evangelists,
+orientally soft girl martyrs, and youthful archangels. Seven
+years earlier Cimabue had conceived a similar great Majesty
+for the Church of Santa Chiara at Pisa.<a id='r19'></a><a href='#f19' class='c012'><sup>[19]</sup></a> Doubtless Duccio
+had seen it, and, though it is lost to us, we may assume, that
+the Sienese artist outdid his prototype both in sweetness and
+splendor.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In many ways Duccio’s Majesty is highly traditional. It
+shows the Byzantine horror of voids, is a little crowded. But
+this defect would be less apparent if it were raised on its historiated
+base (<i><span lang="it">predella</span></i>) with its original pinnacles above. Everything
+derives from Byzantine exemplars, reverently improved
+in a realistic direction. Duccio has dared to paint the Christ
+as a laddie; and not as a little old man; he has shown the
+soft forms of His body through light draperies; he has kept
+the austerity of the Byzantine apostles but has attenuated
+their harshness; he has worked the insipid female masks of
+the older art into forms of a positive and dreamy grace. One
+feels the tender mood of the work in the Latin jingle at the
+foot of the throne, typical of dozens of similar dedications in
+Siena:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span lang="la">Mater Sancta Dei</span></div>
+      <div class='line'><span lang="la">Sis caussa Senis requei</span></div>
+      <div class='line'><span lang="la">Sis Duccio vita</span></div>
+      <div class='line'><span lang="la">Te quia pinxit ita</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>which I may rudely paraphrase:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Holy Mother of God: grant Siena rest,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Grant life to Duccio,—he did his best.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>All the sensibility of the City of the Virgin is in these prattling
+rhymes with which they loved to hallow and offer great pictures.</p>
+
+<div id='f_038'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>
+<img src='images/f_038.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 38.</span> Duccio. Entry into Jerusalem; Christ Washing the Apostles’ Feet; Last Supper. From the back of the great Madonna.—<em>Opera del Duomo, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>If the front of this panel shows only moderate innovations,
+the case is not so for the back. The two score stories from the
+Bible or early Christian legend, in the distribution of the
+figures follow faithfully the standard Italo-Byzantine compositions.
+Where Duccio steps in is in bettering the forms,
+giving grace to the draperies, and animation to the gestures—above
+all in providing contemporary architectural accessories,
+and coping with the problem of space. He also carries to
+their ultimate refinement certain decorative formulas which
+the Byzantine painters had glimpsed but not fully realized.
+Thus two quite opposed tendencies pass into Sienese painting
+from Duccio;—a rather small preoccupation with accessories
+and the problem of space, and a pure æstheticism concerned
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>with finesses of decorative arrangement—in short, the prose
+and the poetry of Sienese painting.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sienese narrative painting tends to be scrupulous about
+details and inscenation, quite as a good story-teller naturally
+provides incidents that make for plausibility. We may see
+how Duccio’s mind works in the familiar theme of Christ
+entering Jerusalem, Figure <a href='#f_038'>38</a>. Duccio sets the spectator
+in a garden with an open gate, thus throwing the scene back a
+little. Above the procession and the rejoicing throng rises a
+city wall, and still higher against the sky bristle Gothic towers
+and spires. Thus the theme gains picturesqueness and variety.
+One forgets that there is hardly space for the welcoming throng
+before the gate, and that the donkey’s four feet are on a level
+although he is going up hill. These little maladjustments
+show that while Duccio took infinite pains in inventing the
+setting, he borrowed the figure groups bodily from earlier
+Byzantine compositions in which the setting was simpler. In
+this piecing-together process he turns some pretty sharp
+corners, but he never sacrifices clarity and expressiveness.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the scene where the maid servant catches the Galilean
+burr in Peter’s voice, Figure <a href='#f_039'>39</a>, and asks if he be not a follower
+of Jesus, we find Duccio’s method quite at its best.
+Nothing could be better than the sudden turn of the girl with
+one foot on the steps. Fine, too, is the concentration of the
+crowd on the exciting problem of gossip. Well-observed, their
+actions as they warm their feet and hands at the fire. Vivid,
+too, the impulsive gesture of Peter as he denies the charge.
+The place, a court yard with a staircase leading right into the
+picture above, which represents the court room where Jesus
+is being questioned, is most elaborately planned. One looks
+back through a portal into farther spaces. All this was so
+new and interesting that I presume the Sienese have never
+noticed to this day that the seated group would never fit in
+the space assigned to it and that the positions of the figures
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>are ambiguous. The picture does admirably its work of
+telling a story spiritedly, and that is enough.</p>
+
+<div id='f_039'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_039.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 39.</span> Duccio. Peter denies Christ.—<em>Opera del Duomo, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Duccio’s Calvary, Figure <a href='#f_041'>41</a>, is remarkable for breadth,
+spectacular effectiveness, and a measured pathos. As usual
+he multiplies actors and incidents while keeping the orderliness
+of the arrangement. The slightness of all the forms, their
+little weight and uncertain balance are apparent. And there
+is, on the same principle of taste, a similar attenuation of
+emotion. Where Giotto at Padua gave stark tragedy, Duccio
+offers a gentle flutter of restrained grief.</p>
+
+<div id='f_040'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_040.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 40.</span> Duccio. The Marys at the Tomb.—<em>Opera del Duomo.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such is the average of these narratives, clear, picturesque,
+circumstantial, infused with a generalized and never very
+intense emotion. There are some, mostly composed with few
+figures, which reveal a great fastidiousness of arrangement.
+In such a composition as the Marys at the Tomb, Figure <a href='#f_040'>40</a>,
+Duccio reveals himself as pure æsthete, as consummate master
+of linear composition. The motive is essentially insignificant,
+merely that the Marys shrunk at the sight of the angel
+at the tomb, but out of that motive of withdrawal is wrought
+through the little panel a lovely rhythm to which everything
+contributes—the rise of the cliffs and their crinkly edges,
+the contrasting angles of the tomb and its impossibly tilted
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>lid, the reciprocal curve of the angel. We grasp in the picture
+a general truth which reaches far beyond Duccio and Siena,
+that a too conscious struggle for style precludes any complete
+expression of emotional significance. For this picture is as
+trivial as a narrative as it is exquisite as a decoration.</p>
+
+<div id='f_041'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_041.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 41.</span> Duccio. Calvary.—<em>Opera del Duomo.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Duccio, who disappears from our sight about the year 1318,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>fixed once for all the character of the Sienese school. In
+narrative it was to adopt the placid and tender tone of legend,
+most unlike the urgent and dramatic mood of Giotto. The
+Sienese artist was too reverent to raise the question how did
+this happen, and how did the persons feel; he asked rather
+“How do we feel about it as believers?” The beauty of the
+work, then, is not that of outer reality but of revery and
+meditation. It never has the tang and variety of good Florentine
+narrative painting, but within its lovingly modulated
+monotony, Sienese narrative painting is supremely charming.</p>
+
+<div id='f_042'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_042.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 42.</span> Simone Martini. Madonna in Majesty. Fresco.—<em>Palazzo Pubblico, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Duccio also started in Siena a somewhat worried and petty
+concern with accessories, architecture, complications of perspective.
+He inaugurated a tradition of material splendor in
+gilding, tooling, delicate graduation of color which remained
+the glory of Sienese painting for nearly two centuries. So
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>far as we know he painted only in tempera on panel, and
+the Sienese generally were to triumph in this feminine form
+of work rather than in the masculine methods of fresco.
+Finally Duccio took over from Byzantine art and perfected certain
+finesses of highly simplified and abstract composition, a
+pure æstheticism distinctly Sienese and wholly alien to the
+warm humanism of Florence. You will find this austerely
+lovely style at its best in Simone Martini, and surviving
+as late as Sassetta and the middle of the fifteenth century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>After Duccio, Sienese painting divides itself into two tendencies,
+one aristocratic, chivalric and æsthetic, deriving
+from his decorative manner; the other popular, narrative and
+realistic, deriving from his minutely staged scenes on the back
+of the great altar-piece. Of the aristocratic style Simone
+Martini is the greatest exemplar, of the popular style, the
+brothers Lorenzetti.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Simone Martini was born in 1283 or thereabouts. We
+first meet him as an artist in the great frescoed Majesty of
+the Virgin, Figure <a href='#f_042'>42</a>, completed in 1315 for the Palazzo
+Pubblico, Siena. The arrangement is like that of Duccio’s
+Majesty, finished only five years earlier, and the facial types
+are generally those of Duccio. But the great fresco gains
+clarity and impressiveness from the added space, from the
+picturesque motive of a canopy, from the isolation and elevation
+of the Madonna above her escort, and from the rich
+Gothic forms of the throne, which are a novelty in painting.
+While most of the faces show the orientalism of Duccio,
+the Madonna has the level-browed, intent character of Gothic
+art, and the Child is realistic. Gothic again is the graceful
+border with its fine medallions, and the bright colors of the
+whole. It is the most splendid enthroned Virgin in the world,
+and she is conceived chivalrically as a sort of tournament
+queen with her paladins upholding a canopy, and angel
+pages on their knees offering roses and lilies.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>To the Sienese this was a political picture, as a rhymed
+inscription in Italian shows. The saintly patrons of Siena
+address the Virgin:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Angelic flowers, roses and lilies</div>
+      <div class='line'>With which the heavenly meadow is adorned,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Delight me less than do good counsels.</div>
+      <div class='line'>But sometimes I see such as verily</div>
+      <div class='line'>Despise me and my city betray,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And gain praise the more for evil words,</div>
+      <div class='line'>With such as merit condemnation.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>The Virgin answers the saints patrons somewhat evasively:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Fix my delights in your minds,</div>
+      <div class='line'>So that I shall, as ye wish,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Fulfil your honorable requests.</div>
+      <div class='line'>But if the powerful molest the weak,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Oppressing whether with shame or harm—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Let not your prayers be made for these</div>
+      <div class='line'>Nor for whomsoever betrays my city.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_043'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_043.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 43.</span> Simone Martini. St. Martin Knighted.—<em>Lower Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In Simone’s work this great
+Majesty is an exception. He
+preferred generally to work on a
+more restricted scale, to burn
+the lamp of æsthetic sacrifice.
+I can merely allude to the great
+idealized portrait of St. Louis of
+Toulouse, in S. Lorenzo, Naples.
+It was painted for King Robert
+of Anjou, whose kneeling figure
+appears in the picture, sometime
+after 1317. The thing is resplendent
+in gold and azure, adorned
+by curiously twisted Gothic
+borders; in sentiment it is impassive as a Buddhist painting.</p>
+
+<div id='f_044'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>
+<img src='images/f_044.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 44.</span> Simone Martini and Lippo Memmi. The Annunciation.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>About the year 1325,<a id='r20'></a><a href='#f20' class='c012'><sup>[20]</sup></a> we may surmise, Simone was called
+to Assisi to fresco the Chapel of St. Martin in the Lower
+Church. He set upon the walls so many fairy tales, tender
+and sprightly in sentiment, provided with the few essential
+accessories that a rapid story-teller would need. What more
+charming than the boy Martin praying while they bind on
+him the equipment of a knight, Figure <a href='#f_043'>43</a>, and musicians
+sound a fanfare! What more gallant than the lad setting out
+on crusade against the Teutons who lurk in a cleft of the
+background! This gracious childlike quality, quite akin to the
+tender phase of Duccio, is exceptional in Simone, who habitually
+is the strenuous decorator.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His sparse and austere methods appear clearly in the
+commemorative fresco of Guidoriccio, hired general of Siena,
+and conqueror of Sassoforte. It is in the Palazzo Pubblico
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>and duly dated 1328. Nothing is realistic but the horse and
+rider. They are isolated, hold alone a field made up of
+pure symbols for camps, and fortresses and craggy hill-tops,
+yet the martial effect is unmistakable and the composition
+most quaintly impressive.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The quintessence of Simone’s later art is in the famous
+Annunciation of the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_044'>44</a>. In order to justify
+the most nervously exquisite of linear arrangements he has
+chosen the least significant moment of the event. His Virgin
+is merely a sullen princess resenting an intrusion; the Gabriel,
+an etherialized courtier pleading a cause with apologies. But
+the contrast of the advancing and shrinking motives gave
+Simone precisely what he wanted. He builds up areas richly
+colored or brocaded, bounded by sharp curves, relieved by
+flutters and spirals of flying drapery, and accentuated by such
+details as the olive twigs and the lily which have the crisp
+incisiveness of finest metal work. As a triumph of pure
+decoration Gothic painting has nothing better to show
+than this lovely panel which was finished in 1333 for the
+chapel of Sant’ Ansano at Siena. It has little quality of
+heart in it, and no reverence save that of consummate workmanship.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Great honors awaited Simone. He was called to the exiled
+papal court at Avignon in 1339, met Petrarch, painted Petrarch’s
+Laura and is lauded in one of the poet’s sonnets.
+Of Simone’s work at Avignon we have only a few small panels
+scattered between Antwerp, Paris, Liverpool, and Berlin.
+The compositions, most of which belonged to a composite
+altar-piece depicting Christ’s passion, waver between his old
+simple style and a crowded and animated mood reminiscent
+of Duccio, and influenced by the Lorenzetti. Simone is unable
+to resist the universal tendency towards diffuse narrative,
+and in so far as he yields to it, he is less than himself. Christ
+Bearing His Cross, in the Louvre, exemplifies the extravagance
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>and morbidness of this latest manner, Figure <a href='#f_045'>45</a>. His
+strength lies in sacrifice and abstraction, his real affinities are
+the contemporary Buddhist painters of China and Japan,
+though of course he knew nothing of them. He died in 1344,
+leaving behind him a tradition
+of fastidious artistry which was
+potent in Siena for over a century.</p>
+
+<div id='f_045'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_045.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 45.</span> Simone Martini. Christ bearing His Cross.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>As late as 1450, Lorenzo Ghiberti
+informs us in his “Commentaries,”<a id='r21'></a><a href='#f21' class='c012'><sup>[21]</sup></a>
+the Sienese regarded
+Simone Martini as their greatest
+painter. He differed from them,
+preferring, himself, Ambrogio
+Lorenzetti. This was an eminently
+Florentine choice, Ambrogio’s
+warmth, concreteness,
+and elaboration were on the
+whole Florentine. He worked
+for several years at Florence,
+must have known Giotto, certainly
+studied him with discerning
+admiration. With his elder
+brother, Pietro, Ambrogio Lorenzetti gave to Duccio’s tradition
+of detailed narrative painting its perfected form. They were
+great fresco painters, and most characteristic as such. In
+panel painting they are less original, but they bring into this
+highly conventional art a great ardor and curiosity. They
+represent the popular average of Siena as Simone Martini
+represented its aristocratic minority.</p>
+
+<div id='f_046'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>
+<img src='images/f_046.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 46.</span> Pietro Lorenzetti. Madonna with Saints, 1320.—<em>Pieve, Arezzo.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We first meet Pietro Lorenzetti as an artist in the altar-back
+at the Pieve, Arezzo,<a id='r22'></a><a href='#f22' class='c012'><sup>[22]</sup></a> Figure <a href='#f_046'>46</a>, which was finished in
+1320. It is an <i><span lang="it">ancona</span></i>, or compartmented piece and the most
+splendid that has come down in Romanesque form. The figures are of two sorts. The Madonna is of intent Gothic type,
+and the fine motive of holding off the Christchild at elbow
+length in order to see him better is borrowed from Giovanni
+Pisano, who in turn took it from French Gothic sculpture.
+So are the forms above in the Annunciation new and graceful,
+while the little boxed room with its plastic column is also
+novel. The Assumption of the Madonna in the highest pinnacle
+is probably the earliest occurrence of this famous Sienese
+theme in painting. But all the figures of saints in the three
+orders of the side panels are taken almost without change
+from Duccio’s great altar-piece. It would be interesting to
+trace Pietro’s emancipation through a dozen panels. No one
+better combined dignity with grace, and feeling, and splendor.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>His work in fresco is fragmentary and confused with that of
+his younger brother. We are certain of nothing except a fragment
+of a deeply felt Calvary in the Church of St. Francesco,
+at Siena. Many critics ascribe to him the agitated and wildly
+picturesque frescoes of the Passion in the left transept of the
+Lower Church at Assisi.<a id='r23'></a><a href='#f23' class='c012'><sup>[23]</sup></a> But this, I think, is a mistake.
+Pietro is never in his certain works so lively and indecorous
+and casual. We have to do with an artist influenced by
+Duccio working about 1330, Pietro himself may appear as the
+Stigmatization, Figure <a href='#f_047'>47</a>, and one or two of the other simpler
+compositions. The other frescoes are chiefly interesting as
+showing the dangers of the panoramic method of Siena.
+Take the Last Supper, Figure <a href='#f_048'>48</a>. The theme is simply lost
+in the fantastic richness of the accessories. It is hard to find
+Christ or Judas, for the eye seeks the radiating rafters or
+the scullery where cats lurk and eager scullions wipe the
+dishes.</p>
+
+<div id='f_047'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_047.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 47.</span> Pietro Lorenzetti, or Follower. St. Francis receiving the Stigmata. Fresco.—<em>Lower Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_048'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>
+<img src='images/f_048.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 48.</span> School of Pietro Lorenzetti. The Last Supper. Fresco.—<em>Lower Church, Assisi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the Birth of the Virgin, dated 1342, Figure <a href='#f_049'>49</a>, Pietro
+spoils a carefully studied and well-felt picture by elaboration
+of the setting. The frame is conceived as the plastic front of
+a Gothic room within and behind which, spaces are multiplied
+confusingly. Here the pedantic preoccupation with the problem
+of space offends the eye and destroys the unity of what
+in a simpler setting would be a monumental composition.
+It illustrates the dangers of that smaller realism which from
+Duccio down afflicted the more progressive painters of Siena.
+Such a picture enables us to appreciate the tact and thoughtfulness
+with which Ambrogio Lorenzetti approached his
+narrative themes.</p>
+
+<div id='f_049'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>
+<img src='images/f_049.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 49.</span> Pietro Lorenzetti. Birth of the Virgin.—<em>Opera del Duomo, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Ambrogio Lorenzetti was born about the beginning of the
+century. In 1331 and later he painted remarkable frescoes
+for the Church of St. Francis. These if complete would afford
+the most interesting comparisons with Giotto at Florence, but
+the two that remain are among the best narrative paintings
+of the time. What will first strike the observer in the story
+of St. Louis of Toulouse renouncing his throne as he takes the
+Franciscan vow, Figure <a href='#f_050'>50</a>, is the variety and orderliness
+of the emotions. The devotion of the saint is well offset by
+the intense, melancholy curiosity of his brother Robert, who
+becomes king through the sacrifice. The audience is divided
+into admiring Franciscans and idly marveling courtiers, the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>whole well dominated by the kindly and reverend figure of
+the Pope. Remarkable is the methodical division of the
+spaces. A slender column establishes the picture plane and
+sets the figures back. A sort of desk in a hollow square defines
+and isolates the monastic group, while the courtiers
+have their appropriate location in a third plane of alcoves.
+Florence has next to nothing of this sort at this period, and
+it may be noted that this careful division of spaces is not matter
+of display and curiosity as in Duccio, but is logical and
+effective as regards the persons of the narrative.</p>
+
+<div id='f_050'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_050.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 50.</span> Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Prince Louis of Toulouse receives the Franciscan Vow.—<em>San Francesco, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of similar significance, but more dramatic and picturesque,
+is the martyrdom of the Franciscan missionaries before the
+Sultan of Morocco. The elaborated spaces make for clarity,
+the entirely professional and impersonal cruelty of the Moorish
+tyrant and his bodyguard is splendidly caught and effectively
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>contrasted with the courageous submission of the martyrs.
+Lorenzo Ghiberti praises the energy and character of this
+work, and the observer of today feels as deeply its romantic
+appeal. All the figures are set on receding platforms, the
+problem of space is solved along lines of intelligent literalism.<a id='r24'></a><a href='#f24' class='c012'><sup>[24]</sup></a></p>
+
+<div id='f_051'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_051.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 51.</span> Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Madonna in Majesty.—<em>Massa Marittima.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>It would be a pleasure to dwell on the Madonnas of Ambrogio.
+The tragic Madonna of S. Francesco, Figure <a href='#f_033'>33</a>,
+the Madonna with St. Dorothy and St. Lucy, in the Siena
+Academy, the Virgin in Mr. Dan Fellowes Platt’s collection are
+among the best. No other early Italian so combined nobility with
+motherly warmth. His splendor and sweet dignity may best be
+felt in the Majesty of the Virgin, Figure <a href='#f_051'>51</a>, in the little town of
+Massa Marittima. The central motive, Mary and the Child embracing,
+is almost Ambrogio’s invention. He rings the changes on
+it in lovely modulations, while always retaining monumentality.
+This picture is as stately as Duccio’s Majesty, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>as resplendent as Simone Martini’s, while having qualities of
+ardor and fancifulness all its own. The fairy-like Virtues on
+the steps of the Madonna’s throne especially show the rich
+vein of pure fantasy which accompanied Ambrogio’s robustness.
+The picture may be dated about 1336 or later.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Previous to its painting Ambrogio had passed some years
+at Florence, where he must have studied and known Giotto,
+and where he himself influenced powerfully the beginnings of the
+new panoramic style. Whatever frescoes he himself did there
+have perished, and the only memorials of his visit are certain
+delightful little panels telling with vivacity and utmost circumstantiality
+the legends of St. Nicholas. At Florence he
+must have analyzed Giotto’s great political frescoes, now lost,
+which depicted in symbols good and bad government. These
+were surely the inspiration for the political symbols and illustrations
+which Ambrogio, in the year 1337 and later, painted
+in the great hall of the Palazzo Pubblico at Siena.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The most famous is the Allegory of the State. The Commune
+sits enthroned, above in the air are the theological virtues—Faith,
+Hope and Charity; seated at the side are the
+four secular virtues—Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and
+Fortitude—and with them two additional personifications
+useful to a state—Magnanimity and Peace. The graceful relaxed
+figure of Peace, Figure <a href='#f_052'>52</a>, with her filmy drapery is
+famous. Below the platform on which the Commune sits with
+attendant virtues, are the grim, disciplined forms of men-at-arms
+and a throng of magistrates and citizenry. At the left are symbolized
+Concord and Justice as the supporters of a well-ruled
+state. Here the symbolism is childishly obvious. Concord
+holds her smoothing plane. From her hand go strings which
+bind in fellowship a group of citizens below and lead above
+to the figure of Justice. Still higher is Wisdom. Justice deals
+punishment with one hand and grants aid with the other;
+the Middle Ages never admitted that Justice was merely punitive.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>The figures of Justice and Concord are superb,—Ambrogio’s
+Madonna type on a heroic scale.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>As a pictorial representation of the finest mediæval ideas
+of statecraft, this fresco is of incomparable interest. As a
+decoration it is hardly successful. The theme has hampered
+the artist, the handling of the figures in several scales with
+the largest above, produces confusion and topheaviness.
+Beautiful in the parts, it is disappointing in the whole.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Far better merely as decoration is the companion fresco
+which represents the Effects of Good Government, Figure <a href='#f_053'>53</a>.
+We have a peaceful city, the entrancing spectacle of Siena as
+she was about the year 1339. Girls are dancing a carol in the
+foreground with the quaintest dignity, mounted merchants
+are passing, and if the picture were better preserved, we should
+see the mechanics—or “artists” as they still call themselves
+in Italy—working cheerily in their shops. In its richness
+without confusion, this is the very triumph of the panoramic
+realism which Ambrogio made popular throughout Italy.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>There are many more frescoes in this series, mostly by
+imitators of Ambrogio. The Sienese region is full of works
+by him or by his faithful followers. His panel pictures are
+in many galleries of Europe and America. They all confirm
+the record of Ghiberti that Ambrogio had the habits of a
+nobleman—a great sympathy, a fine scrupulousness, a real
+magnanimity. Certain contemporaries seem greater, Giotto
+surely, Simone Martini perhaps, but no Italian painter until
+Raphael himself reveals so complete and harmonious a development.
+We find no trace of the brothers Lorenzetti after
+1348. Presumably they perished in the great plague of that
+year.</p>
+
+<div id='f_052'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>
+<img src='images/f_052.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 52.</span> Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Peace, from the Fresco of Good Government.—<em>Palazzo Pubblico, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_054'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_054.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 54.</span> Luca Tommé. The Assumption of the Virgin.—<em>Jarves Coll., New Haven, Conn.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_053'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_053.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 53.</span> Ambrogio Lorenzetti. Results of Good Government—The Peaceful City. Fresco.—<em>Palazzo Pubblico, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>For a century after the plague year, 1348, the painters of
+Siena imitated either the narrative realism of Ambrogio or
+the decorative sparseness of Simone Martini. It is customary
+to align them as of one camp or the other. We may indeed
+say that such painters as Lippo Memmi, Andrea Vanni, and
+Naddo Ceccarelli faithfully echo Simone, while such a master
+as the influential Bartolo di Fredi, who is traceable as late as
+1388, seems completely Lorenzettian. But most of the painters
+follow freely both tendencies, employing Simone’s formulas in
+altar-pieces with few figures, and Ambrogio’s in narrative.
+Such eclecticism produced abundantly works of charm, for
+delicate sentiment and ornate workmanship, but rather few
+works of originality. Perhaps because of willingly accepted
+limitations, the average is higher than that of Florence.
+Throughout Italy it was a more popular style than the Florentine.
+It dominated the coast region from Naples to Valencia,
+penetrated into Umbria and the Adriatic marshes, and even
+got a temporary foothold in Florence itself. It fitted in better
+with mediæval ideals than the art of Giotto and Orcagna,
+which implied classical antiquity and anticipated the humanism
+of the Renaissance. On the whole Sienese art runs down
+after the Lorenzetti died, losing the robustness which Ambrogio
+had learned of Giotto, but its decline is gentle and interrupted
+by beneficent reactions towards its established
+glories. We may pass rapidly, and chiefly considering types,
+the fifty-odd years between the Lorenzetti and the new century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Luca Tommé is credited with an exquisite little Assumption,
+Figure <a href='#f_054'>54</a>, in the Jarves Collection at Yale University. The
+picture, though it may be as late as 1370, repeats loyally the
+formulas which Pietro Lorenzetti invented nearly fifty years
+earlier. Perhaps Bartolo di Fredi, a rather superficial and
+over-fecund artist, best represents the average condition as the
+fourteenth century closed. In such a panel as the Adoration
+of the Magi, in the Siena Academy, Figure <a href='#f_055'>55</a>, we see the
+familiar theme for the first time expanded in a Lorenzettian
+sense. It becomes a pageant, probably under the influence of
+contemporary mystery plays. It is best conceived in the little
+scenes in the background; the facial types and the simplified
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>setting on the whole recall Simone Martini. In other narrative
+pictures Bartolo vies with Ambrogio Lorenzetti in complication
+of planes and architecture. On the whole he is a
+rather faint echo, but his note while thin is also true.</p>
+
+<div id='f_055'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_055.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 55.</span> Bartolo di Fredi. Adoration of the Magi.—<em>Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_056'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_056.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 56.</span> Barna. The Transfiguration.—<em>Collegiata, S. Gemignano.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The declining century produced only one robust painter in
+Siena, the mysterious Barna whose damaged frescoes of the
+Passion we see in the Collegiate Church of San Gemignano.
+The forms are those of Simone Martini, the compositions even
+more sparse than his, denuded of all accessories, and powerfully
+impressive for this reason. The mood is brusque and
+tragic, with nothing of Sienese sweetness. Barna seems a kind
+of provincial Giotto misplaced and unrealized in the Sienese
+country. In the fresco of the Transfiguration, Figure <a href='#f_056'>56</a>,
+he rises to sublimity. Fra Angelico will merely repeat him
+in San Marco sixty years later. Vasari tells us that Barna
+died from a fall from his painting scaffold in 1381, and that
+he was then young. If so, his originality was tremendous, for
+he cleared away ruthlessly all the delightful but trivial stage
+furniture so diligently collected by Duccio and the Lorenzetti.
+Modern criticism ascribes to him several panels, and I venture
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>to add to the list the simple and stately Marriage of St. Catherine
+in the Boston Museum of Art. Certainly it is one of
+the most serious creations of the period. The type of the Christ
+and the concise and characterful arrangement seem to mark
+it as a fine Barna. The base is interesting, representing the
+composing of a blood feud, and Miracles of St. Michael and
+St. Margaret. While the simple pattern continues the tradition
+of Simone, Barna avoids Simone’s linear grace-notes.
+The finical element of the predecessor yields to a kind of realism.
+Barna is really the critic of the Sienese school. He
+silently insists that one may be decorative without too much
+artifice, and dramatic without overtaxing the stage carpenter,
+a very solitary and elevated spirit, to whom full justice has
+not yet been done.</p>
+
+<div id='f_057'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_057.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 57.</span> The Three Living and Three Dead, detail from the Lorenzettian fresco, The Triumph of Death.—<em>Campo Santo, Pisa.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Most remarkable among the works inspired by the Lorenzetti
+is the coarsely effective Triumph of Death, Figure <a href='#f_057'>57</a>.
+in the famous cemetery cloister, Campo Santo, at Pisa. It
+represents the hazards of the mortal life in view of certain
+death and judgment. At the left a royal hunting party is
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>stopped short by the sight and stench of three festering bodies
+in coffins. The Hermit, Saint Macarius, points the obvious
+lesson that kings and lords and fair ladies will turn to dust.
+In the centre, miserable folk beckon and cry to Death to
+descend and put them out of their distress. The harridan
+death ignores the prayer and flies over a pile of corpses towards
+a gay garden party. Death loves to cut down the young and
+gay and happy, leaving the old and crippled to prolonged
+sorrow. In the upper left hand corner you have monks going
+about their quiet pursuits. The whole adjoining fresco is
+given up to the lives of such desert saints. At the upper right
+are angels and fiends struggling for little nude forms that
+represent human souls. This motive is a sort of overflow
+from a picture of the Last Judgment. The grim moral of the
+three pictures is that the worldly life is one of mortal peril,
+which may best be avoided by renouncing the world and joining
+a monastic order. The work was completed about 1375,
+is in the rougher following of the Lorenzetti, and has been
+famous ever since it was painted on the cloister wall. Entirely
+Sienese in its conception, in its ruggedness it transcends
+the usual softness of the school. It is the last significant
+work of the 14th century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Siena passed into the fifteenth century without greatly
+changing her art. In the work of such traditional figures as
+Taddeo Bartoli one may observe a certain coarsening of the
+tradition. Mere splendor tends to replace the old delicacy,
+narrative painting becomes ever more complicated and confused.
+The latter tendency is manifested in frescoes which
+Domenico di Bartolo painted, between 1440 and 1443 for the
+Hospital of the Scala, Figure <a href='#f_058'>58</a>. Their crowded picturesqueness
+grows legitimately out of the Lorenzettian tradition,
+as does the elaboration of architectural accessories. But the
+work also implies a certain knowledge of the current Florentine
+discoveries in linear perspective and in architecture. A
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>small ingenuity runs pretty wild in these decorations, valuable
+as they are in picturing the times.</p>
+
+<div id='f_058'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_058.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 58.</span> Domenico di Bartolo. Clothing the Naked, from fresco series, the Seven Acts of Mercy.—<em>Scala Hospital, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>About the time these frescoes were designed, a renovation
+of Sienese painting was being made along divergent lines by
+Stefano di Giovanni, nicknamed Sassetta,<a id='r25'></a><a href='#f25' class='c012'><sup>[25]</sup></a> and by the eager
+eccentric, Giovanni di Paolo. In both cases we have a reactionary
+reform. Sassetta restudies devoutly Simone Martini
+and the Lorenzetti, infusing his own tender mysticism both
+into decoration and narrative. In a manner he combines the
+two great currents of Siena’s past. We may best approach
+him through the triptych of the Birth of the Virgin in the
+Collegiate church at Asciano, Figure <a href='#f_059'>59</a>. It is his earliest
+work painted not much later than 1428 when, being thirty-five years old, he joined the Painters’ Guild. The picture is
+conceived in the strictest Lorenzettian fashion, the frame
+being treated as the front or extension of the painted architecture.
+Aside from this carefully constructed setting, with
+its successive spaces, the casual and familiar distribution of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>the figures suggests strongly Pietro Lorenzetti. But the rich
+accessories in Sassetta’s hands are delicately selected, the
+humble gestures have an artless grace, the secondary figures
+such as the brocaded handmaid entering from the rear are
+fascinating in their own right. An air of alert gentleness runs
+through the picture. It is shared by persons of all ages.
+Such episodes as the chatting of two old men before a respectfully
+listening urchin add nothing to the story but strongly
+reinforce the faery charm of the whole. Winsomeness has
+supplanted the monumental quality of the older school. Above
+in the side gables are the scenes of the passing of the Virgin’s
+soul and her funeral procession, both conceived in the manner
+of the Lorenzetti. But the familiar forms are singularly animated
+by a new spirit of tenderness. By a paradox these little
+stories are really more like Duccio than any intervening work.</p>
+
+<div id='f_059'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_059.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 59.</span> Sassetta. The Birth of the Virgin.—<em>Asciano.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_060'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_060.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 60.</span> Sassetta. Marriage of St. Francis to Poverty.—<em>Chantilly, France.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_061'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>
+<img src='images/f_061.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 61.</span> Sassetta.  Temptation of St. Anthony.—<em>Jarves Coll., New Haven, Conn.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sassetta painted seven years on his masterpiece, the now
+scattered <i><span lang="it">ancona</span></i> for the Franciscan Church at Borgo San
+Sepolcro. The central panel was a St. Francis in ecstacy,
+now in Bernard Berenson’s collection. On the back were
+eight of the legends of the “Fioretti.” The panel was finished
+in 1444. Especially delightful is the panel at Chantilly which
+represents St. Francis’s mystical betrothal with Poverty,
+Figure <a href='#f_060'>60</a>. This scene is before Monte Amiata, spaced off
+from the group by checkerboard fields. The maidens, Chastity
+and Obedience, sway lily-like beside their more resolute
+sister, Poverty, upon whose timidly offered hand the little
+saint firmly fixes a ring. Above, the celestial trio rises over
+the mountain line, Poverty turning a regretful face to her
+humble bridegroom. The simple pattern with its swaying
+lines derives from Simone Martini, but there is none of his
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>petulant superiority in it, none of his nervousness. The realm
+is not the airless heights of a pure æstheticism but a very
+human dreamland. Again Duccio at his best is the closest
+analogy. Bernard Berenson in his admirable little book <em>A
+Painter of the Franciscan Legend</em> well describes the technical
+perfection of such work as this. It is conceived in “outlines
+which have in themselves an energy and vitality, that, whether
+they are representative or calligraphic, give off values of movement,
+and values of movement have the power to suggest
+the unembodied, life unclogged by matter, something in brief
+that comes close to the utmost limits of what visual art can
+do to evoke spirit.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Apart from these sublimated reveries of Sassetta which
+express themselves in utmost delicacy of line, hue, and touch,
+he had a refreshing, drastic, almost a humorous side, which
+may be exemplified in a Temptation of St. Antony, Figure
+<a href='#f_061'>61</a>, in the Jarves Collection at New Haven. Beside his
+coral-red hut in a desert bounded by a wood that seems the
+world’s end, the Saint starts away from a demure and very
+plain little girl. He is perplexed, divining rather than seeing
+the tiny bats’ wings which mark her as a demon. The
+horizon is so curved that one almost feels the old earth swinging
+unconcernedly beneath this dilemma. A picture full of
+grotesque and authentic imagination, most true to the hobgoblin
+tradition of the expiring Middle Ages.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sassetta died in 1450, and his two long-lived pupils, Sano di
+Pietro (1406–1481) and Giovanni di Paolo, (1403–1482) kept
+something of his influence alive for still thirty years.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sano needs few words. He took nothing from his master
+but certain formal patterns, fine gilding and blithe colors.
+He repeats himself tediously, there are over fifty of his panels
+in the Siena Academy alone, yet is so genuine and unpretending
+that one forgets his lack of delicacy and insight. A
+little Coronation of the Virgin, at New Haven, may sufficiently
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>represent his decorative phase. It is a nosegay of fair
+colors on burnished gold. In narrative painting he is Lorenzettian
+without the <i><span lang="fr">finesse</span></i> of his master. At least he helped
+prolong a lovely tradition beyond its natural term, and that
+is his chief merit. “A famous painter and a man wholly
+dedicated to God”—(<i><span lang="la">Pictor famosus et homo lotus deditus
+Deo</span></i>)—we read in his death notice. Siena knew how to appreciate
+a traditionalist.</p>
+
+<div id='f_062'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_062.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 62.</span> Giovanni di Paolo. Young St. John Baptist goes to the Desert.—<em>Formerly Charles Butler Coll., London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giovanni di Paolo, on the contrary, suffered not from deficient
+originality but from its excess. He selects restlessly
+from the older pictures. You will find pure Duccian figures
+in his paintings of the fifties. He studies the sparse decorative
+perfections of Simone Martini and exaggerates their nervousness.
+He drives expression into caricature, seeks strength in
+distortion, was the post-impressionist of his day. His extravagance
+is unpleasing in his larger pieces, but is piquant enough
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>in his numerous small panels. One of a pair in English private
+possession shows the Youthful St. John jauntily setting off
+for the desert, with a quite cubistic treatment, Figure <a href='#f_062'>62</a>, of
+the lines of the fields. The motive is still more ingeniously
+employed in one of a remarkable set of pictures belonging to
+Mr. Martin Ryerson of Chicago. Giovanni’s predilection for
+distortion and grimace is shown in The Baptism of Christ,
+a pendant to the story of the youthful John, both being
+parts of one predella.</p>
+
+<div id='f_063'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_063.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 63.</span> Matteo di Giovanni. Saint Barbara with Saints.—<em>S. Domenico.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giovanni died in 1482 at the advanced age of seventy-nine,
+having faithfully preserved the old Gothic tradition while
+making it a vehicle of his own resolute eccentricity.</p>
+
+<div id='f_064'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>
+<img src='images/f_064.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 64.</span> Matteo di Giovanni. Massacre of the Innocents.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The slight concession which Siena made to the Renaissance
+was inaugurated by Lorenzo Vecchietta, active from about
+1440 to 1480. He was primarily a sculptor and his silver
+altar-back was deemed worthy, in 1506, to displace the
+great Majesty of Duccio from the high altar of the Cathedral.
+Vecchietta chiefly shows the effect of his studies as architect
+and sculptor in a severe regard for anatomy, and in the Renaissance
+character of his architectural settings. He painted
+for the Cathedral of Pienza a majestic Assumption, his masterpiece.
+There are numerous frescoes by him at Siena; he
+is perhaps most agreeable in little stories elaborately set amid
+rich architecture, but he lacks the sprightliness of the true
+narrative tradition. “He was a melancholy and solitary person,”
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>writes Vasari, “and always sunk in thought.” He did
+something to give to the Sienese painting of the end of the
+century a new and complicating thoughtfulness.</p>
+
+<div id='f_065'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_065.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 65.</span> Benvenuto of Siena. Assumption of the Virgin.—<em>Metropolitan Museum, New York.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Far the most versatile painter at Siena in the second half
+of the fifteenth century was Matteo di Giovanni.<a id='r26'></a><a href='#f26' class='c012'><sup>[26]</sup></a> He was not
+a native, but born about 1430 at Borgo San Sepolcro in upper
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>Umbria. There he worked for a time with that stern realist
+Piero della Francesca. Thus Matteo brought to Siena better
+training than his fellows had, but he soon fell contentedly
+into the ways of the place. His madonnas and female saints
+have a new touch. They are more girlish and fragile than
+their predecessors, more exquisite, more fashionable. The type
+is represented in dozens of panels of which Enthroned Saint
+Barbara, at Saint Domencio, dated 1477, Figure <a href='#f_063'>63</a>, is a fine
+example.</p>
+
+<div id='f_066'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_066.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 66.</span> Girolamo di Benvenuto. Love bound by Maidens. Birth Salver.—<em>Jarves Coll., New Haven, Conn.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In such work Matteo continues the tradition of Sassetta
+along somewhat superficial lines of prettiness. He is far more
+original in the several versions of the Massacre of the Innocents,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>in which seeking a maximum of intensity he achieves
+only a very interesting sort of caricature. The picture at
+S. Agostino, Figure <a href='#f_064'>64</a>, dated 1482, is perhaps the best of
+the group. We are in the realm of the grisly fairy tale, at an
+ogre’s sports. The crowding, tumult, ornate architecture are
+simply Matteo’s attempts to refurbish the old Lorenzettian
+tradition. His real quality best appears in the outlines prepared
+for the figure decoration of the pavement of the Cathedral.
+In general his is an engaging but entirely undisciplined
+talent, oscillating after the fashion of the moment, alike in
+Florence and Siena, between mere prettiness and sheer restlessness.
+He died in 1495, Michelangelo’s star being already
+in the ascendent over neighboring Florence.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A kind of petrification of the traditional charm of Siena
+is in the work of Benvenuto di Giovanni, scholar of Sassetta.
+He cultivates a resplendent impassivity, is severe without
+much background of knowledge. His stiffness is gracious
+enough, like that of an aristocrat who maintains amid difficulties
+the dignity of an older school. His sense of formal
+pattern and skill in modeling in a very blond key may be
+enjoyed in his versions of the favorite theme of the Assumption.
+One of the best of these, dated at the end of the century
+in the year 1498, is in the Metropolitan Museum, Figure
+<a href='#f_065'>65</a>. Benvenuto was born in 1436 and died about 1518. He
+might, had he chosen, have studied the whole realistic development
+from Fra Angelico to Leonardo da Vinci, but his painting
+keeps a chill virginal quality quite apart from life, its problems
+and allurements.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His son Girolamo continued the manner with less monumentality
+until his death in 1524. To his early activity belongs
+the delightful salver, Love Bound by Maidens, Figure
+<a href='#f_066'>66</a>, in the Jarves Collection at New Haven. It is merely the
+tray on which the gifts were presented to a young mother during
+the visits of congratulation. It was painted for some member
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>of the famous Piccolomini family, presumably about the year
+1500. The stern maidens who are plucking and binding the
+stripling Love, doubtless are personifications of Chastity,
+Temperance and the like. In the middle distance a knight
+rides off free to adventure since Love is safely bound. It is
+an odd theme for a gift to a young bride and mother, but
+the Italians never required consistency in their compliments.
+The daintiness of the treatment is typical for Renaissance
+painting at Siena, which never assumes a robust or realistic
+or humanistic accent.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>There is a refinement which is the harbinger of death. It
+appears in Siena in the person of Neroccio di Landi. He
+sublimates the style of his great predecessors, Simone and
+Sassetta, adding freely the more delicate ornamentation of
+the Renaissance. There is a peculiar pallor in his coloring
+and tension in his modelling. It is an art of nerves and ecstasies,
+wholly etherial. An admirable Annunciation in the
+Jarves Collection at New Haven shows the rich setting, the
+odd blend of precision with a languor that marks Neroccio as
+true grandson of Simone Martini. There are many little panels
+of Madonnas with saints of amber translucency. They have
+the startling vividness and irreality of an hallucination. And
+there is a portrait of a girl in the Widener Collection, Figure <a href='#f_067'>67</a>,
+which is of a superlatively delicate prettiness. Neroccio was
+born in 1447 and died in 1500. With him passed the special
+fragrance of Sienese art.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Until 1475, Neroccio was in partnership with one whose
+ambition went far to destroy what Neroccio and Siena stood
+for. Francesco di Giorgio was born in 1439. With an ambition
+and resolution wholly un-Sienese, he mastered the arts of
+painting, sculpture, architecture and engineering. He met
+Leonardo da Vinci at Pavia, worked for the tyrants of Milan,
+competed for the façade of the Cathedral of St. Mary of the
+Flower at Florence. As architect and engineer it appears
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>that he became a cosmopolitan, in painting it was hardly so.
+He is most delightful in his early phase which is represented
+by a bride-chest in the Wheelwright collection, Boston. It
+represents Prince Paris insolently appraising the charms of
+the rival goddesses, and at the
+right riding Troywards in disregard
+of the despair of forsaken
+Œnone. The classical theme is
+tinged with mediævalism, naturalized
+as Sienese. Later pictures,
+such as The Nativity, Figure <a href='#f_068'>68</a>,
+in the Sienese gallery, show Francesco
+uneasy, twisting his figures
+for grace and display of knowledge,
+working over the old landscape
+formulas in a semi-realistic
+sense, adding classical architecture,
+generally trying to break
+the bounds of the old idealism.
+The result is restlessness or at
+best an ambiguous charm. Siena is beginning to regret her
+isolation, to make vain efforts to overtake the tide of humanistic
+realism, to envy Florence, and even Perugia and Cortona.
+From the point of view of the Renaissance she was two
+generations behind, and no longer indifferent to the fact.</p>
+
+<div id='f_067'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_067.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 67.</span> Neroccio di Landi. Portrait of a Girl.—<em>Widener Coll., Elkins Park, Pa.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Not merely Francesco di Giorgio tries to do in a decade the
+work of a century, but such younger contemporaries as Fungai
+and Pacchiarotti look to Florence or Umbria. Siena was
+given no time to reconstruct, and her old beautiful art could
+not readily assume new forms. Siena never assimilated the
+Renaissance. It invaded her, killed her native art and substituted
+one without local flavor. Before Francesco di Giorgio
+died, in 1502, he had seen Luca Signorelli called to Siena and
+the clever decorator Pintorricchio. Siena no longer trusted
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>her own artists. Francesco probably took little note of the
+advent in 1501, of a young Piedmontese painter, Antonio
+Bazzi,<a id='r27'></a><a href='#f27' class='c012'><sup>[27]</sup></a> nicknamed Sodoma, yet with Sodoma remained
+what little future there was in
+Sienese painting.</p>
+
+<div id='f_069'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_069.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 69.</span> Sodoma. Vision of St. Catherine of Siena. Fresco.—<em>S. Domenico, Siena.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sodoma brought to Siena the
+knowledge of Leonardo da Vinci,
+the new draughtsmanship in
+light and shade. He assimilated
+the sensibility of Siena but
+coarsened it. No painter of the
+time was more overtly sentimental.
+His famous St. Sebastian at
+Florence tells all that need be
+known about him,—his considerable
+skill, his exaggerated
+pathos, his clever use of poise
+and balance, his sober modern
+tonalities. His sentimental power
+is at its height in the fresco
+at S. Domenico, Siena, which
+represents S. Catherine swooning
+at the vision of her lover, the Christ, Figure <a href='#f_069'>69</a>. Sodoma
+worked indefatigably in and about Siena till 1549. The few
+local painters of a progressive sort, Domenico Beccafumi,
+Girolamo del Pacchia, either directly imitate Sodoma or draw
+from similar alien sources. The only man of genius Siena
+produced in these years, Baldassare Peruzzi (1481–1536), soon
+went to Rome where in architecture he held his own with all
+comers, whereas in painting he became a modest imitator of
+Raphael.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the ten years after 1500 the old art perished. Siena
+from being the last radiant exemplar of the glory of the mediæval
+spirit sunk to the estate of a fourth class station of the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>Renaissance. Her idealism could not bear the test of reality.
+Her domain had been that of legend and fairy tale and dream,
+she had ruled it exquisitely for two centuries until sheer taste
+had absorbed her little strength. She had left unforgettable
+records of her most precious feelings, but little record of her
+outer activities. Think how portraits abound in Florentine
+and Venetian art after 1450! There are practically none at
+Siena. So it would be futile to go to Siena for a greater understanding
+of the active life. But if you would requicken the
+sense of legend, live over again the tenderness mankind has
+ever felt for the beautiful past, hear some faint blowing
+of the horns of elfland—if you want this experience, then go
+to The gracious City of the Virgin and you shall find fulfilled
+the generous motto over her main portal—Siena will open
+her heart wide to thee.</p>
+
+<div id='f_068'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_068.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 68.</span> Francesco di Giorgio. Nativity.—<em>Belle Arti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER II</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>A Sonnet to the Spendthrift Club</span></h4>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c004'>
+    <div>by</div>
+    <div class='c004'>FOLGORE DA SAN GEMIGNANO</div>
+    <div class='c004'><em>translated by</em></div>
+    <div class='c004'>DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“I give you horses for your games in May,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And all of them well trained unto the course—</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Each docile, swift, erect, a goodly horse:</div>
+      <div class='line'>With armor on their chests and bells at play</div>
+      <div class='line'>Between their brows, and pennons fair and gay;</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Fine nets and housings meet for warriors,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Emblazoned with the shields ye claim for yours,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Gules, argent, or, all dizzy at noon day;</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>And spears shall split and fruit go flying up</div>
+      <div class='line'>In merry counterchange for wreaths that drop</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>From balconies and casements far above;</div>
+      <div class='line'>And tender damsels with young men and youths</div>
+      <div class='line'>Shall kiss together on the cheeks and mouths</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And every day be glad with joyful love.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>How Venus Fared in Siena</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Ghiberti, in his commentaries (ed. Frey, Berlin 1886, p. 57 ff.) tells
+how a marble Venus, bearing the name of Lysippus was dug up at Siena.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“I saw it only as drawn by a very great painter of the city of Siena,
+who was called Ambrogio Lorenzetti. This drawing was kept with
+greatest care by a very old Carthusian. This brother was a goldsmith,
+and his father, and was a designer and delighted greatly in the art of
+sculpture; and he began to tell me how that statue was discovered as
+they were making an excavation where now are the houses of the Malavolti;
+how all those instructed and versed in the art of sculpture, with
+the goldsmiths and painters ran to see this so marvellous and artistic
+statue. Every one praised it greatly, and also the great painters who
+then were in Siena—to every one it seemed absolutely perfect. And
+with all honors they set it upon their fountain, as a most splendid thing.
+All gathered to place it with greatest rejoicing and honor and they
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>fixed it magnificently upon that fountain, which statue reigned there
+but passingly.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“For as the city had many adversities in the war with the Florentines,
+and the flower of the citizenry were assembled in council, a citizen rose
+and spoke about the statue in this tenor: ‘Gentlemen and citizens,
+having considered that since we have found this statue it has always
+gone wrong with us, and considering that idolatry is forbidden by our
+faith, we must believe of all the adversities which we have that God sends
+them for our errors. And behold in truth that since we have honored
+this statue we have always gone from bad to worse. I am certain that
+so long as we keep it in our territory it will always go wrong with us.
+As a councillor I would advise that it be taken down and shattered and
+split up and be sent to be buried on the soil of the Florentines.’</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Unanimously they confirmed the words of their citizen and put them
+in execution, and the statue was buried upon our soil.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>A Procession on the Completion of Duccio’s Majesty</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>“On the day that it was carried to the Duomo the shops were shut;
+and the Bishop bade a goodly and devout company of priests and friars
+should go in solemn procession, accompanied by the Nine Magistrates
+and all the officers of the Commune and all the people; all the most
+worthy followed close upon the picture, according to their degree, with
+lights burning in their hands; and then behind them came the women
+and children with great devotion. And they accompanied the said
+picture as far as the Duomo, making procession round the Campo as is
+the use, all the bells sounding joyously for devotion of so noble a picture
+as is this. And all that day they offered up prayers, with great
+alms to the poor, praying God and His Mother who is our advocate,
+that he may defend us in His infinite mercy from all adversity
+and all evil, and that He may keep us from the hands of traitors and
+enemies of Siena.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Translated in Edmund G. Gardiner’s <cite>The Story of Siena</cite>, p. 178,
+from the Anonymous contemporary chronicler published by A. Lisini
+in <cite>Notizie di Duccio</cite>.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>A Contract for an Altar-piece by pietro lorenzetti</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c018'>“Master Pietro, son of the late Lorenzetto, who was of Siena, solemnly
+and willingly promises and agrees with the venerable Father Guido,
+by God’s grace Bishop of Arezzo, who stipulates in the name and stead
+of the people of St. Mary of Arezzo—to paint a panel of the Blessed
+Virgin Mary,&#160;... in the centre of which panel shall be a likeness of
+the Virgin Mary with her Son and with four side figures according to
+the wish of the aforesaid Lord Bishop, working in the backgrounds of
+these figures with finest gold leaf, 100 leaves to a florin,&#160;... and the
+other ornaments of silver and of best and choicest colors; and using in
+these five figures best ultramarine blue; and in the other adjoining and
+surrounding spaces (panels) of this picture to be painted likenesses of
+prophets and saints, according to the wish of this Lord Bishop, with
+good and choice colors.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“It must be six braccia long and five braccia high in the middle,
+apart from two columns each a half braccia wide, and in each should
+be six figures worked with the aforesaid gold, and the work shall be
+approved by this Lord Bishop....”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“And he [Pietro Lorenzetti] must begin this work according to the
+wish of this Lord Bishop, immediately after the wooden panel shall
+have been made, and must continue in this work until the completion
+of this picture, not undertaking any other work &#38;c. And therefore the
+said Lord Bishop Guido promises to have given and assigned to him
+the panel made of wood; and to pay him for his wages for the picture
+and for colors, gold and silver one hundred and sixty Pisan lire; that is
+the third part at the beginning of the work, the third part at the middle
+of the work, and the remaining third part when the work is finished
+and complete &#38;c.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Done in the church of the Holy Angels in Arcalto outside of and
+next to the cemetery.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Translated and slightly abridged from
+Borghesi and Banchi, <cite>Nuovi Documenti per la Storia dell’ Arte Senese</cite>,
+(Doc. 6, p. 10) Siena, 1898.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>This contract well illustrates the elaborateness and strictness of such
+agreements. It may be compared with the picture itself (Fig. <a href='#f_046'>46</a>).
+Apparently the artist persuaded the Bishop to give up the plan of
+twelve prophets and saints on two side pilasters, and made instead a
+greater number (15) of figures in the upper arcade and pinnacles.</p>
+
+<div id='f_070'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>
+<img src='images/f_070.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 70.</span> Andrea del Castagno. David, Slayer of Goliath. Parade Shield.—<em>Widener Coll., Elkins Park, Pa.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter III</span></span><br> MASACCIO AND THE NEW REALISM</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='c011'>Ghiberti, Brunellesco, and Donatello about 1400 begin to study Nature and
+the Antique—The new secular spirit—Discontent with the old pictorial
+style expressed in reaction by Lorenzo Monaco—in cautious reform by
+Fra Angelico—and Masolino—in revolutionary reform by Masaccio—The
+Cassoni painters as illustrators of contemporary manners—Masaccio
+and the new structure in light and shade—The Problem of the Brancacci
+Frescoes—Masaccio’s enduring influence—The early Florentine Realists—Paolo
+Uccello and Perspective—Andrea del Castagno and
+Anatomy—Domenico Veneziano and Oil Painting—Alesso Baldovinetti.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In the two earlier chapters we have considered what Giorgio
+Vasari calls the vigorous childhood of Italian painting. We
+are now to observe its splendid youth. The story appropriately
+begins with three young men and the year 1401 and with a
+baby, later nicknamed Masaccio, who was born that same
+year. The three young Florentines represent the new time-spirit.
+The lucky one, Lorenzo Ghiberti, has just won a
+competition for the new bronze doors of the Baptistery, and
+has in that one commission more than twenty years of happy
+work ahead. Ghiberti is sensitive and thoughtful beyond the
+wont of the older craftsmen artists. He writes of an antique
+statue: “It has sweetness of modelling which cannot be caught
+either in a strong or a dim light, only the hand and touch can
+find it.” Ghiberti is a critic and analyst as well as a creator.
+In his “Commentaries,” a product of his old age, he writes:
+“Thus I have always sought for first principles, as to how nature
+works in herself, and how I may approach her, how the
+eye knows the varieties of things, how our visual power works,
+how visual images come about, and in what manner the theory
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>of sculpture and painting should be framed.” This is the
+mood of the Renaissance in its most serious aspect.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>This student mood was fully shared by two young friends
+of Ghiberti. Donatello, the sculptor, and Brunellesco, later
+the designer of the dome of the Cathedral at Florence, had
+lost in the competition for the Baptistery doors. They accepted
+defeat magnanimously, joined forces and went to Rome,
+where their persistent way of poking among the ruins got them
+the name of the treasure seekers. Such indeed they were, but
+the treasure they sought was not gold, but the secrets of the
+ancient sculptors and architects. So Donatello refined and
+perfected the rugged realism he had from nature. As early
+as 1416 he was to carve the alert and noble St. George for
+Or San Michele. Brunellesco’s life dream was that lightest
+and loveliest of domes which is still the architectural crown of
+Florence, and almost incidentally he threw off designs that
+filled Florence with elegant colonnades and churches which
+renewed the dignity and joyousness of the best Roman building.
+A resolute spirit, Brunellesco once tramped the sixty
+miles from Florence to Cortona to see a newly excavated
+statue. Not incidentally, then, but by hardest study, Brunellesco
+worked out a correct practice of linear perspective.
+This needed resource for the painter was now available when
+any one had the sense to ask for it, and all the time young
+Masaccio was growing up in San Giovanni up the Arno.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such is the immediate background for the forward move in
+painting which begins in 1422, or thereabouts, and runs
+through fifty years of eager experimentation. As in the first
+revival the sculptors and architects had shown the way to
+the painters, so it was again. But there is also a remoter
+social and commercial background for the Early Renaissance
+which we must consider briefly. The great plague of 1348
+cuts Florentine history sharply in two. It marked an acceleration
+of gayety and worldliness, of sports and pageantry.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>The chronicler Matteo Villani<a id='r28'></a><a href='#f28' class='c012'><sup>[28]</sup></a> noted with amazement that
+the plague had caused not repentance but dissipation. He
+was shocked to see the old toga-like costume of the Florentines
+give place to the bobtailed jerkins and parti-colored hose
+borrowed from wicked France. Heritages were many and
+heirs few. You saw the gowns of gentle and noble ladies on
+backs of hussies or worse—the new wives. People ran to “the
+sin of gluttony, to feasts and taverns, delicate viands and
+games.” As for the poor folk, they no longer wished to work
+at their trades, they expected the costliest food, they married
+“<i><span lang="la">ad libitum</span></i>.” So began that loosening up of the old bourgeois
+morals which culminated in the carnivals of the end of
+the fifteenth century and in the libertine muse of Lorenzo the
+Magnificent. All this meant an inspiring spectacle for the
+artist to record, and plenty of lavish patronage, but also it
+meant a disintegrating tendency for art. Painting is great in
+Florence in the measure that it escapes the mere expansiveness
+of the times and seeks discipline. As if to assert the
+permanency of the spirit of discipline, the very year that set
+Matteo Villani in despair, 1348, gave him also a chapter on
+the founding of the Studio, a school of higher learning which
+eventually became the University of Florence. And the
+course of art for most of the fifteenth century was to be a
+constant interplay and rivalry between the Florence of the
+tavern and race-course and the Florence of the Studio, with a
+final victory for the latter.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Oddly enough, the new luxury and gayety and the new
+scholarship conspired to make the old painting inadequate.
+The panoramic style of the fourteenth century was too simple
+and unornate for the Frenchified Florentines; for the new
+generation of strenuous artists, it was too slight and unskilful.
+All the finer spirits at the beginning of the fifteenth century
+are malcontents. Their unrest expressed itself, according to
+temperament, in progress or reaction. The dominating artist
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>of the moment was a reactionary, Don Lorenzo Monaco,<a id='r29'></a><a href='#f29' class='c012'><sup>[29]</sup></a>
+Camaldolese monk. Turning from the superficiality of the
+current Florentine style, he sought his corrective at Siena,
+his birthplace, in the decorative exquisiteness of Simone Martini
+and the narrative warmth and breadth of the Lorenzetti;
+and he imports these qualities into Florence in an art as aristocratic
+and retrospective as that of our own Pre-Raphaelites.
+In his hands Gothic painting takes a new and unwarranted
+lease of life. He is a brilliant colorist, a fastidious designer,
+an austere spirit. Even his great Sienese exemplars have
+hardly surpassed his masterpiece, the Coronation of the Virgin,
+in the Uffizi. It is dated 1413. In the richness of
+the Gothic frame, the profusion of small incidental figures,
+the festooning curves of the swaying saints and angels,
+and formal symmetry of arrangement, it well represents the
+most florid type of Gothic painting as developed at Siena.
+It is hard to realize that this lovely mediæval work was painted
+at the moment when Brunellesco and his friends were already
+turning sharply to nature and to the vision of Hellas. But
+Lorenzo was a cloistered man, and appropriately a votary
+of past perfections. His devout mood is best expressed
+in the gracious Annunciation, Figure <a href='#f_071'>71</a>, which has happily
+never left its original altar in the Church of the Trinità.
+Here Lorenzo follows the Lorenzettian canons of space. A girlish
+delicacy in the obedient Virgin is a new note, to be echoed
+more sweetly by Lorenzo’s best follower, Fra Angelico.
+Lorenzo died in 1425. Masaccio had already created the new
+style of painting, but for a couple of decades faithful disciples
+of Don Lorenzo carried on his style.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A lover of Plutarchian parallels and contrasts would swiftly
+pass from Don Lorenzo Monaco to Masaccio. But one may
+better understand the new movement by taking first men who
+gradually and normally accepted the new knowledge. Such
+are Fra Angelico and Masolino, who began as Gothic painters
+and ended as Renaissance masters. They show us better the
+average drift of the times than does so revolutionary a figure
+as Masaccio.</p>
+
+<div id='f_071'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>
+<img src='images/f_071.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 71.</span> Lorenzo Monaco, Annunciation.—<em>Trinità.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_072'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_072.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 72.</span> Fra Angelico. Annunciation and Adoration of the Magi.—<em>Museum of S. Marco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_073'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_073.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 73.</span> Fra Angelico. Coronation of the Virgin.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>Fra Angelico<a id='r30'></a><a href='#f30' class='c012'><sup>[30]</sup></a> was born in 1387 and at twenty entered the
+religious state as a Dominican at Fiesole. How soon Fra
+Giovanni, not yet nicknamed Angelico, became a painter we
+hardly know. But four little pictures designed to inclose in
+their frames relics of the saints may represent his beginnings.
+Three are at San Marco, Florence, one in Mrs. John L. Gardner’s
+collection at Boston. The Little Annunciation with an
+Adoration of the Magi, Figure <a href='#f_072'>72</a>, may represent the work.
+It is refined, tender, of jewel-like freshness of color, graceful
+in linear arrangement, at first sight wholly Sienese in inspiration,
+and directly dependent on Lorenzo Monaco. A kind of
+veracity under the richness of the expression marks the work
+as after all straightforward and Florentine. The date may be
+about 1425, Fra Angelico, being in his middle thirties, and
+in his art about a century behind the times. In his early
+Gothic manner he conceived some of his masterpieces, such as
+the Coronation of the Virgin, with its glimpse of a celestial
+cloud land; and the whimsically beautiful Last Judgment.
+Both are at the Museum of San Marco. One can believe the
+report of Vasari that each day Fra Angelico prayed before touching
+brush to such masterpieces. Such pictures have the
+hush and charm of a celestial dreamland, a meditative beauty
+quite un-Florentine.</p>
+
+<div id='f_074'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>
+<img src='images/f_074.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 74.</span> Fra Angelico. Madonna dei Linaiuoli. Originally an outdoor tabernacle.—<em>Museum of S. Marco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>All the time Fra Angelico was placidly and intelligently
+studying the new realistic movement launched by Donatello
+and Masaccio. He adopts what suits him, rejecting heavy
+shadows which would dull his Gothic coloring, but adding
+freely realistic details in anatomy, drapery, and architecture.
+The Coronation of the Virgin in the Louvre, Figure <a href='#f_073'>73</a>, though
+it may be only a few months later than that of the Uffizi, no
+longer takes place in a cloudland before lucent gold, but in a
+quite practicable architecture imitating the niche which
+Michelozzo designed in 1423 for Donatello’s St. Louis of
+Toulouse. The forms too are more substantial, more mundane.
+Soon the architectural accessories become of Renaissance
+type, and as Mr. Langton Douglas has shown, every new
+invention of Michelozzo for a space of ten years is promptly
+reflected in the painting of Fra Angelico. His greatest Madonna,
+that of the Linen Guild, Figure <a href='#f_074'>74</a>, painted in 1433, is
+almost plastic, recalling the severe sweetness of Orcagna. The
+picture is really cumbered by the rich hangings, which with
+the slender swaying angels in the bevel of the frame are already
+an anachronism. In the Descent from the Cross, Figure
+<a href='#f_075'>75</a>, we find Fra Angelico skilfully adopting the new discoveries
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>in anatomy and landscape. The treatment is broad
+and panoramic in the tradition of the Lorenzetti but all the
+details are carefully studied from nature and not furnished
+by formula. A deeply felt scene thus gains verisimilitude,
+comes out of the realm of legend and becomes an actuality.
+The panel was finished in 1440, and, now that Masaccio was
+gone, there was no living painter who could have put into it
+with equal knowledge so much feeling.</p>
+
+<div id='f_075'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_075.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 75.</span> Fra Angelico. Deposition.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The building of the great Dominican Convent of San Marco
+between 1437 and 1444 opened to Fra Angelico his great opportunity.
+It was the gift of Cosimo de’ Medici, now unofficial
+ruler of Florence, who had his good reasons for wishing to
+assure the occasional repose of his busy soul in this world and
+its permanent repose in the next. He often sought seclusion
+in the convent and doubtless saw in progress the fifty or more
+frescoes that Fra Angelico made to adorn it. Fra Angelico
+was painting for deeply religious men, for scholars who had
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>the Scriptures at their finger tips, and for this reason perhaps
+he rejects all smaller realisms, reducing his compositions to
+the mere figures. Thus the San Marco frescoes are more concise
+even than those of Giotto, and they reach at their best
+a simple sublimity as yet unattained in Italian art. Highly
+formal and decorative, they are free from consciously æsthetic
+taint. Sometimes I think Perugino learned much at San Marco
+and that we may thus regard Fra Angelico as indirectly a
+leading influence on Raphael. The sparse, effective method
+may be illustrated in the fresco set over the door of the guest
+quarters, the <em>Forestiera</em>. It represents a pilgrim Christ being
+received by Dominican brothers. Figure <a href='#f_076'>76</a>. In the stranger
+we entertain The Lord Himself is the simple lesson. The
+figures are set against a conventional blue background but
+are constructed with the authority of the new learning.</p>
+
+<div id='f_076'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_076.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 76.</span> Fra Angelico. Dominicans receive Christ as Pilgrim. Guest house door.—<em>S. Marco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the Chapter House nearby Fra Angelico painted, about
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>1440, a great Crucifixion, Figure <a href='#f_077'>77</a>. The three laden
+crosses stand out sharply against a murky sky. The setting
+is a mere platform, on which the familiar forms of Mary and
+the beloved Apostles are almost lost in a throng of witnesses
+of every age. We have the Latin Fathers, and their successors—St.
+Dominic and St. Francis, among others. The
+arrangement is highly formal, the mood that of meditation;
+the sharper tragedy of the theme is not insisted on. The
+characterization of the saints is precise and fine, the drawing
+of their forms admirable. Had the composition been set
+against a Gothic, blue background, the mood would have
+seemed merely sentimental. What gives it, with all its abstractness,
+an almost sensational tang of reality is the
+arching sky, slaty above and an ominous orange behind the
+figures. The expedient brings an element of definite place and
+time of day for this rendezvous of saints at a mystically renewed
+Calvary.</p>
+
+<div id='f_077'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_077.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 77.</span> Fra Angelico. Mystical Crucification. Chapter House.—<em>S. Marco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the cells of the convent, Fra Angelico and his helpers
+painted no less than forty-three frescoes. These were intended
+for the private devotions of the brother occupying the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>cell, and the subjects were probably chosen not by Fra Angelico
+himself, but by his cloister mates. The best are conceived
+like the frescoes of the lower story. The background
+is just a veiled sky, there are no accessories, the figures loom
+in an indefinite space. Majestic
+is the Transfiguration, Figure <a href='#f_078'>78</a>,
+very lovely the Coronation of
+the Virgin. The angelic painter
+draws the maximum effect from
+the simplest patterns and briefest
+means. There is the measured
+and simple dignity of the early
+Christian mosaics with a warmer
+and more personal feeling. Fra
+Angelico, when he wishes, can be
+elaborately realistic. He is so in
+the garden scene where the Risen
+Christ gently rebuffs the Magdalen,
+in the crowded Adoration
+of the Magi, which tradition assigns to Cosimo de’ Medici’s
+cell, and in the Annunciation, Figure <a href='#f_079'>79</a>, in the corridor with its
+graceful Renaissance <i><span lang="it">loggia</span></i>. In this more circumstantial vein,
+Fra Angelico is delightful, but I think below his best. In all
+the frescoes at S. Marco, however, Fra Angelico appears as
+a wholly Florentine figure with an art based at once on the
+study of nature and on an understanding admiration for the
+masterpieces of Giotto and Orcagna.</p>
+
+<div id='f_078'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_078.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 78.</span> Fra Angelico. Transfiguration, fresco in a cell at <em>S. Marco</em>.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Something of his mediævalism, of his Sienese manner,
+persists in the numerous little predella panels, such as those
+telling delightfully the story of the doctor saints, Cosmo and
+Damian, and the series with the life of Christ which adorned
+the doors of the plate lockers of the Church of S. Marco.
+With their fully developed pictorialism, their careful regard
+for the minor realisms of setting, these little pictures are the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>prelude to his last phase at Rome. They are also the last
+Florentine pictures that observe those traditional iconographical
+forms which had persisted for four centuries.</p>
+
+<div id='f_079'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_079.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 79.</span> Fra Angelico. Annunciation. Fresco.—<em>San Marco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Fra Angelico ever refused to make money or accept promotion,
+but became despite himself a celebrity. In 1445 he was
+ordered to Rome by Pope Eugenius IV. The frescoes which
+Fra Angelico then made in the Vatican are lost. There was
+an escape to Orvieto, where Fra Angelico painted half the vault
+of the Chapel of S. Brixio, which Signorelli was later to complete.
+Fra Angelico was peremptorily recalled to Rome in
+1447 by the new Pope, Nicholas V, who was planning a new
+chapel in the Vatican. We see it today still radiant with the
+legends of St. Stephen and St. Lawrence that Fra Angelico
+thoughtfully composed more than four hundred years ago.
+Modern critics have generally agreed in finding Fra Angelico’s
+masterpieces in this chapel. If they mean his fullest display
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>of knowledge, the opinion is incontestible. Nowhere else has
+Fra Angelico invented such complications of architecture,
+interiors, street perspectives; nowhere has he drawn better
+figures in greater variety. Such frescoes as the lunette with
+St. Stephen defending himself before the Jewish doctors and
+preaching to the people, Figure <a href='#f_080'>80</a>, or that depicting St.
+Lawrence giving alms to cripples and poor folk before a basilica,
+are learned and rich. But does not their very richness
+obscure both the decorative and emotional appeal?
+Personally I tend to lose the figures in the complexity of the
+setting. Any of Fra Angelico’s little predellas tells its story
+more feelingly and clearly, and no less ably. Under the
+pressure of competition at Rome, Fra Angelico for the
+first time is ostentatious. To please the Pope he revives in
+more specious form the trivialities of the old panoramic style.
+Had he grasped Masaccio’s invention of aerial perspective and
+construction in light and dark, Fra Angelico might have
+carried off his elaborate settings successfully. As it is, they
+confuse the eye by too many linear elements, and only mildly
+delight the mind. Even the sensitive mood of legend, which
+is noteworthy in these frescoes, is better represented in the
+smaller panels. In fairness of
+Gothic fresco coloring, however,
+they are unsurpassed.</p>
+
+<div id='f_080'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_080.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 80.</span> Fra Angelico. St. Stephen Preaching, the Saint before the Council. Fresco.—<em>Chapel of Nicholas V., Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_081'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>
+<img src='images/f_081.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 81.</span> Masolino. Annunciation.—<em>Henry Goldman, Esq. New York.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>From the point of view of
+tendency, these frescoes are profoundly
+instructive. They show
+the irresistible drift towards the
+formation of a new panoramic
+style, a drift that even Fra Angelico,
+cloistered saint and exquisite
+self-critic, was unable to
+escape. In spite of his record
+and better knowledge, he becomes
+an inaugurator of that
+picturesque, undisciplined, and
+decentralized manner of narrative
+which was to be represented by Ghirlandaio, Botticelli,
+and their contemporaries.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In his later years Fra Angelico declined the archbishopric
+of Florence and died at Rome in 1455. The tombstone which
+shows the emaciation of his perishable form is in the Roman
+Church of the Minerva; his imperishable monument is his
+frescoed convent home of S. Marco at Florence.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of the traditional artists Fra Angelico is by far the most
+important, but his contemporary Masolino of Panicale must
+be considered, partly because tradition makes him the master
+of Masaccio, partly because of the problems which cluster
+about his work. The picture which is here drawn of him
+represents my own investigations, and differs at several points
+from the views of Berenson and Toesca. If we judge Masolino
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>only by the work that is unquestionably his, he is not an impressive
+figure. He inherits the grace of the late Gothic
+style, and he adds rather partially and inconsequentially the
+new discoveries in anatomy and linear perspective. Chance
+took him away from the centre of things, Florence. He
+worked mostly in Lombardy, distant Hungary, provincial
+Tuscany, and Rome. He has industry and charm, but nowhere
+shows much intelligence. On the whole he is a poorer
+story-teller than his Gothic predecessors, and only their fair
+equal in panel painting. Had Vasari not ascribed to him, I
+believe erroneously, the early miracles of St. Peter in the
+Church of The Carmine, at Florence, the general historian of
+art would need to pay little attention to Masolino. But he
+has been entangled in one of the most important of artistic
+problems, that of Masaccio, so we cannot ignore him.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Masolino<a id='r31'></a><a href='#f31' class='c012'><sup>[31]</sup></a> was born in 1384, and, according to Vasari, was
+trained by the mysterious Starnina. We have no very early
+works to show his progress, and it is merely a good guess that
+the radiant Annunciation, Figure <a href='#f_081'>81</a>, in the possession of
+Mr. Henry Goldman, New York, may be considerably earlier
+than 1420. It shows the gentleness and animation which are
+constant in Masolino. It combines the Sienese calligraphic
+manner with those smaller realisms of inscenation which ultimately
+derive from Duccio. It has coloristic audacities of
+its own in the spotting of brightest vermillion. It gives small
+hint of the Renaissance. At a later date than 1420, by which
+time ordinary perspective began to be understood, I doubt if
+Masolino would have indulged in that preposterous and unnecessary
+central pillar which starts above in middle distance
+and ends below in the picture plane. A Madonna at Bremen,
+dated 1423, shows him still as Gothic as Lorenzo Monaco,
+who indeed seems to have influenced him dominatingly.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In this same year, it is likely that he painted the frescoes
+in the Collegiate Church at Castiglione d’Olona, a lovely
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>village at the foot of the Alps. Masolino had to deal with refractory
+spaces, the narrow triangular sectors of the apse.
+This has caused elongation of the figures and piling up of
+fantastic architecture merely to fill the spaces. The mood
+is gentle and graceful, the treatment quite Gothic. These
+six stories of the Virgin must have satisfied Masolino’s humanist
+patron, Cardinal Branda Castiglione; for several
+years later he re-employed the painter to decorate the adjoining
+Baptistery. Masolino at forty, in the Collegiate
+Church, was still completely Gothic. If we may believe Vasari,
+at that age he suddenly mastered the new style. Only
+on such a theory can he have painted the Adam and Eve and
+the St. Peter reviving Tabitha, in the Brancacci Chapel, which
+are in the new chiaroscuro technic. Since Masolino, years
+after the time when he was working in that chapel, is still
+incompletely modern as regards light and shade, it is easier
+to suppose that what he actually painted in the Brancacci
+Chapel, about 1424, was merely the vault and the three lunettes,
+which have since been destroyed. Thus all the frescoes
+now visible in this famous chapel would be by Masaccio or
+his continuer, Filippino Lippi. Such was the view of the
+excellent critic Cavalcaselle more than fifty years ago. However
+that be, Masolino by 1427 was at Buda (now Budapest),
+where he worked for that extraordinary Florentine exile and
+soldier of fortune, Pippo Spano. After that trip, we hear no
+more of Masolino at Florence—rather oddly, since the Brancacci
+Chapel, which he had begun, still had three unpictured spaces
+after Masaccio’s death in 1428. Apparently the Brancacci
+family did not consider Masolino competent to complete the
+work he had begun. If so, they were wise.</p>
+
+<div id='f_082'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>
+<img src='images/f_082.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 82.</span> Masolino. Baptism of Christ, detail of fresco.—<em>Baptistery, Castiglione d’Olona.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We next find Masolino, after an interval of more than ten
+years, decorating the Baptistery at Castiglione d’Olona for
+his old patron, Cardinal Branda. The date is 1435. By this
+time Masolino had learned a good deal, but had hardly assimilated his new attainments. Whether as decoration or as
+story-telling, the stories of St. John the Baptist are at once
+confused and pretentious, with little to recommend them save
+the loveliness of their Gothic color, the prettiness of the heads,
+and certain vivacious and well-observed gestures. In the
+great fresco of the Baptism of Christ, Figure <a href='#f_082'>82</a>, the incidental
+nudes are so carefully anatomized that they distract
+from the general effect, while the deep river valley unhappily
+draws the eye away from the figures in the foreground. A
+similarly pictorially inept use of foreshortened Renaissance
+colonnades appears in the opposite fresco depicting the Feast
+of Herod and the delivery of the head of St. John to Herodias.
+If it were not for the physical discomfort of travelling to the
+end of those interminable colonnades and returning to note
+what is happening nearby in them, these stories themselves
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>would seem vivacious and well-conceived, the female heads
+attractive, the color gay and pleasing. The method of composition
+is still Lorenzettian
+and the modern architectural
+features inorganic.</p>
+
+<div id='f_083'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_083.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 83.</span> Masolino. St. Catherine disputing with the Pagan Doctors. Fresco.—<em>S. Clemente, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A few years later Masolino
+was swept to Rome by the great
+wave of rebuilding and redecorating
+which accompanied Pope
+Martin V’s return from Avignon.
+There in the Chapel of the
+Sacrament, in the venerable
+Basilica of S. Clemente, which
+had formerly been Cardinal
+Branda’s titular Church, Masolino
+achieved his maturest work.
+Completely repainted, we may
+still see the legends of St. Catherine,
+and a finely theatrical
+Calvary by Masolino, and as well legends of St. Ambrose by
+a follower of Masaccio. Here Masolino’s gift as a story-teller
+is at its best. He has learned to subordinate his accessories,
+and the childlike character of his themes enlists his talent in
+its most engaging aspect. Such a fresco as St. Catherine
+urging the mysteries of the faith before the Roman doctors,
+Figure <a href='#f_083'>83</a>, is well-felt and skilfully composed, and withal most
+flimsily drawn. It is incredible that a man who could do the
+Tabitha in the Brancacci Chapel at forty should have relapsed
+to this level at fifty-five. The evidence of the armor<a id='r32'></a><a href='#f32' class='c012'><sup>[32]</sup></a> worn
+by the horsemen in the Calvary proves that that fresco, and
+presumably the entire decoration of the chapel, cannot be
+earlier than 1440, while of course it cannot be later than
+Masolino’s own death in 1447.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>To this later period belongs, I believe, the diptych at Naples
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>which represents two themes rare in early Florentine painting,
+the Assumption of the Virgin, and the Miracle of the Snow,
+Figure <a href='#f_084'>84</a>. The latter scene
+shows Pope Liberius tracing
+the foundations of the Basilica
+of Santa Maria Maggiore which
+were indicated by a miraculous
+snow-fall in midsummer. It is
+delightful as story-telling, and
+some of the minor figures are
+entrancing, as is the landscape.
+Since Michelangelo and Giorgio
+Vasari once admired this picture
+together at Rome, we
+should not grudge it our admiration.
+Nor should we fail
+to note the curious defects in
+construction. The heads of the
+attendant figures are set on the
+shoulders like a ball on a post.
+You could blow any of these
+heads off without overtaxing
+your lungs. The picture shows
+the utmost of which Masolino
+was capable. It reveals him as lightly touched by the new
+learning and faithful to the old panoramic ideals of narrative
+which had come down from Taddeo Gaddi and the Lorenzetti.</p>
+
+<div id='f_084'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_084.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 84.</span> Masolino. Pope Liberius tracing the snow-marked plan of Santa Maria Maggiore.—<em>Naples.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Logically we should next consider Masaccio, but first we
+may well give an eye to a minor sort of narrative painting
+which worked in the direction of contemporary realism. This
+was domestic painting as distinguished from ecclesiastical or
+civic.<a id='r33'></a><a href='#f33' class='c012'><sup>[33]</sup></a> In a prosperous Florentine home the chest was the
+most important article of furniture. In the fifteenth century
+its front was pictured with races, pageants, feasts, battles, or
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>the new themes from classical mythology. Every patrician
+bride normally received two such painted cassoni to contain
+her trousseau. For example,<a id='r34'></a><a href='#f34' class='c012'><sup>[34]</sup></a> Giovanna di Filippo Aldobrandini
+when she married Tommaso di Berto Fini, in 1418, received
+two bride chests depicting the races on St. John’s day. A
+complete chest in the Bargello, Florence, shows the riders
+carrying to the Baptistery the <em>palii</em>, or lengths of brocade
+which were the prizes. The front panel of the companion
+chest is in the Holden Collection, at Cleveland, and commemorates
+with extraordinary vivacity and fidelity the race
+itself, Figure <a href='#f_085'>85</a>. The winner is just preparing to touch
+the <i><span lang="it">palio</span></i> which hangs from the ceremonial car at the finish.
+Jesters, policemen, eager women, and impatient urchins who
+pelt the losers make up a remarkable picture of contemporary
+customs. Besides the pictured chests, a well appointed room
+had at the height of a sitter’s shoulder similar but larger
+panels which were called <em>Spalliere</em>. And still higher there
+was, on a still larger scale, what were called cornice panels.
+These too were contemporary or mythological in subject matter.
+Where many a room thus had three courses of pictures
+from the floor to the ceiling there was abundant opportunity
+for the narrative painter and remarkable stimulus to invention.
+The richness and complexity of this household decoration
+doubtless influenced all narrative painting, making for
+the sprightliness which dominates the end of the century.</p>
+
+<div id='f_085'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>
+<img src='images/f_085.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 85.</span> School of Uccello. A Horse Race. Detail from a <em>Cassone</em> Front.—<em>Cleveland, O.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_086'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_086.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 86.</span> Masaccio. Birth of St. John Baptist.—<em>Desco da Parto. Berlin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>Besides these chest and wall panels, pictured salvers were
+prepared to celebrate the birth of a patrician child. Such
+wooden salvers were used to convey the congratulatory gifts
+which were offered with appalling promptness to every young
+mother. These <i><span lang="it">Deschi da parto</span></i>, or birth plates, as the Italians
+called them, bore pictures alluding either to love and beauty
+or to childbirth. One of the earlier mythological salvers is in
+the Bargello and represents the Judgment of Paris. As yet
+the artist is not sufficiently audacious to display the goddesses in classical nudity. The most famous of all birth-plates
+may serve as our introduction to the greatest artist
+of the first half of the century, Masaccio. It is in the
+Berlin Museum, the subject is the Birth of St. John the Baptist,
+Figure <a href='#f_086'>86</a>, and the date should be about 1422. In the
+excellent proportions of the Renaissance portico, in the gravity
+and mass of the figures, it shows the beginnings of a new
+and more truthful style, based not on previous artistic formulas
+but on direct and masterful observation of nature. Mr.
+Berenson justly calls it “a little giant of a picture.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Masaccio<a id='r35'></a><a href='#f35' class='c012'><sup>[35]</sup></a> was born December 21, 1401, at San Giovanni up
+the Arno. His real name was Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di
+Tommaso Guidi. And the slightly slurring character of his
+nickname was apparently given for absent-mindedness, untidiness,
+and a certain clumsiness of person. Tradition as late
+as Vasari declared that Masaccio lived in a world of intense
+speculation concerning his art. Contemporary tax-returns
+show that he died deeply in debt and that he never really
+knew how much he owed. Tradition again insists that he
+never troubled to collect payments due him unless his need of
+money were extreme.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>All the same he was one of the most original minds of all
+ages, and on the formal side, one of the most revolutionary.
+He came to Florence early, probably learned his elements
+under Masolino, but really drew more from the sculptor
+naturalists of Donatello’s sort. In particular he frequented
+the surly architect Brunellesco and from him learned the new
+art of perspective. January 7, 1422, being twenty-one years
+old, Masaccio was matriculated in the Druggists’ Guild as a
+licensed painter. By this time he surely had made his great
+discovery and taken his great decision. Reviewing the painting
+of his contemporaries and predecessors, he judged that it
+was all based on unnatural conventions. We can imagine him
+in the Spanish Chapel viewing the carefully charted and contoured
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>and colored groups, and saying impatiently “things
+don’t look like that.” And in truth the older painting at its
+best was a select inventory or formal description of what the
+artist saw, and not a representation. One can imagine Masaccio
+exclaiming, as Francisco Goya was to do more than
+three centuries later, “Lines, always lines, I don’t see them
+in nature.” And, as a matter of fact, there are no lines in
+nature, just the meeting of areas variously colored and lighted,
+contrasts of tone which the eye instantaneously interprets
+as form.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Young Masaccio, then, makes the radical innovation that
+the brush should work according to nature’s laws, distributing
+color and light and dark so as to give the swiftest and truest
+representation of mass and distance. Besides functional light
+and shade, Masaccio introduced into painting the idea of
+aerial perspective. He saw that distant objects diminished
+not merely in size but also in definition. He felt the air as a
+palpable veil between the object and the eye, and he painted
+not simply the object but, as well, its veil. By a swift impulse
+of sheer genius this moody lad fixed ideals of naturalistic
+painting which were to remain until yesterday and the Impressionists.
+In fundamental principles Velasquez marks no
+great advance on Masaccio.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It is only in fresco painting that Masaccio fully reveals
+his powers. So passing with mere mention such panels as The
+Healing of a Demoniac, in the John G. Johnson Collection,
+Philadelphia, the widely scattered parts of the altar-piece for
+the Carmelites at Pisa, dated 1426, and the grim Madonna
+with St. Ann in the Uffizi, the student will best turn
+directly to the Carmelite Church at Florence and enter
+that sanctuary of art, the Chapel of the Brancacci. The
+Church itself was dedicated April 19, 1422. Shortly after
+that date, young Masaccio did in fresco the dedicatory procession
+with many portraits. Its realism produced a profound
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>impression. Nevertheless it was heedlessly destroyed after a
+century or so. By 1424, according to all probability, Masaccio
+was associated with Masolino in the decoration of the Brancacci
+Chapel. It was dedicated to St. Peter, and the prescribed
+subjects were drawn from the “Acts of the Apostles” and “The
+Golden Legend.” The vaults which contained the four evangelists
+and the three lunettes, which depicted The Calling of
+Peter and Andrew, the Tempest-tossed Ship of the Apostles
+on Galilee, and Peter denying his Lord, were by Masolino.
+Unhappily these upper frescoes have been destroyed. The
+Chapel now has only two rows of frescoes in twelve pictures.
+Of these three and a part of a fourth, all in the lower row, are
+certainly by Filippino Lippi, who about 1484 completed the
+chapel, probably with the aid of Masaccio’s designs. Three
+in the upper row, are ascribed by many critics to Masolino.
+According to this view, which is largely based on the opinion
+of Vasari, Masaccio would be responsible for only five pictures
+and most of a sixth. Other critics, whose views I share, believe
+that Masaccio painted eight of the pictures and most of
+a ninth. The difference of opinion, then, concerns three
+pictures which many think unworthy of Masaccio’s genius.
+The problem cannot be fully debated here. The grounds of
+my opinion, which was that of the great Italian critic Cavalcaselle,
+will appear as we review the frescoes themselves.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In general color effect these frescoes are strangely unlike
+their Gothic predecessors. They have nothing of the flower-bed
+gayety of the Spanish Chapel, of Lorenzo Monaco, or of
+Masolino elsewhere. The effect is of a very rich smokiness, a
+kind of monochrome from which only subdued colors emerge.
+Yellow-browns and silvery grays predominate. There are no
+hard contours. The relief is salient, but one form blends insensibly
+into another. The edges of the figures are established
+not by lines but by contrast of values, the contour is often
+completely lost. The strong assertion of light and dark in a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>few structural planes builds out the forms from an investing
+shadow. Indeed the whole chapel recalls not the Gothic fresco
+painters, but such far later artists as Velasquez, Rembrandt,
+or even Whistler. The method of the painter, whoever he
+was, is completely modern, and uniform throughout the
+chapel. He sacrifices minute definition to generalizations for
+mass; and color, to emphatic construction in light and shade.
+To obtain relief in the figures and distance in the backgrounds
+is the main concern. It is in intention a luminist art and a
+modelling art. The procedure is nearly uniform throughout
+the Brancacci Chapel, though it grows abler from fresco to
+fresco. It is a method that Masolino never commanded, not
+at Castiglione d’Olona ten years later, nor still ten years later
+at San Clemente, Rome. Hence I can only believe that the
+admitted inequalities in the Brancacci Chapel merely represent
+the swift development of Masaccio’s genius, and certain
+interruptions in the work itself.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The first fresco, in the nave alongside, the entrance of the
+chapel, depicts our first parents at the moment of the Temptation
+in the Garden of Eden, Figure <a href='#f_087'>87</a>. It is stilted and awkward,
+yet withal dignified. The theme, which indeed has seldom
+been a happy one for any artist, has not greatly interested
+the painter. He has made it an occasion for studying the
+nude. We have what the modern student calls an academy.
+As such, it is able. The construction is highly simplified and
+is wholly in masses of light and dark, the contour
+is freely effaced. The mystery of background foliage is well
+suggested, the placing of the head of the serpent between the
+tree and the figures is a perfect example of the new art of
+aerial perspective. No painter but Masaccio had even the
+notion of such an effect at this moment. Technically the
+handling of this detail is just the same as that of the vastly
+more beautiful angel in the Expulsion from Eden, Figure
+<a href='#f_091'>91</a>. Finally, the impassive mask of the Eve is identical with
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>that of the Virgin, in Masaccio’s panel in the Uffizi. We
+presumably have to do with an experimental phase of Masaccio
+about the year 1423–5. About that time Masolino probably
+was called to Buda to work for the extraordinary
+Florentine soldier of fortune, Filippo Scolari, better known by
+his nickname of Pippo Spano. If Vasari is right, Masaccio
+had been required to prove his ability to continue the work
+by painting a St. Paul near the bell-cord of the Church, in
+competition with a St. Jerome by Masolino. Both are lost.</p>
+
+<div id='f_087'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_087.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 87.</span> Masaccio. The Temptation.—<em>Brancacci Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_091'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_091.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 91.</span> Masaccio. The Expulsion.—<em>Brancacci Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_088'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>
+<img src='images/f_088.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 88.</span> Masaccio. St. Peter raising Tabitha and healing the Cripple.—<em>Brancacci Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>However that be, Masaccio probably succeeded to the work
+in 1425, his twenty-fourth year, and the next fresco after the
+Adam and Eve may well have been the adjoining subjects of
+Peter raising Tabitha from the Dead and healing a Cripple,
+Figure <a href='#f_088'>88</a>. As a whole the composition is somewhat marred
+by inadvertences and afterthoughts. It shows the influence
+of Masolino in the trite and conventional gestures of the
+mourners about the bier, and in certain strained facial expressions,
+notably that of the turbaned bystander. Such
+survivals are precisely what one would expect in a young
+painter just emancipated from his master. The entirely
+Masolino-like pair of strollers in the centre seem to be due to
+an afterthought. The first intention is registered in the unnaturally
+straight back of St. Peter’s companion, in the centre.
+The fresco was apparently to have been cut into two compartments
+by a pilaster at that point.<a id='r36'></a><a href='#f36' class='c012'><sup>[36]</sup></a> When the plan was abandoned
+in favor of putting two episodes in one space, the two unrelated
+figures had to be added to fill space and provide a transition.
+One is a little ashamed of pointing out small defects in what
+in all essentials is a noble and impassioned work. Technically
+there is nothing better in the Chapel than the establishing of
+the city background. It has scale, admirable atmospheric
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>placing, dignity and pictorial significance. How anybody who
+knows Masolino’s niggling and haphazard treatment of such
+architectural features at Castiglione d’Olona can imagine that
+he had earlier created this grandiose setting remains a mystery
+to me. Even more remarkable are the gravity and grandeur
+of the Peter and the Tabitha. Here we are reminded
+of Giotto. Masaccio must often have pored over the Stories
+of St. John in Santa Croce, and while he by no means adopted
+Giotto’s shorthand indications for mass, he did adopt Giotto’s
+sense for classic dignity, beautifully calculated order, and
+moderation. As we continue through these remarkable frescoes
+we shall see continually that the quite ruthless innovator
+that was Masaccio was also a reverent traditionalist. The
+particular form of his art was settled between nature and
+himself, as Leonardo da Vinci later justly observed; the spirit
+of his art derived mostly from Giotto. It was highly important
+for the whole ongoing of art in Italy that so revolutionary
+a spirit was tempered by the finest respect for the great classic
+tradition. And in this great fresco of St. Peter’s miracles
+one may see how a quite homely and drastic realism can
+be invested with abstract power and dignity. How different
+it all is from the small and often charming vivacity which
+Masolino displays at Castiglione d’Olona and at Rome.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Like the Temptation, the Tabitha is more linear and colorful
+than the other frescoes of the Chapel. The painter has
+not quite mastered the radically new method of construction
+in light and shade. Thus there is a technical break between
+the Tabitha and the frescoes on the back wall, which are in a
+more developed manner. We may assume an interruption in
+the work. Indeed we need not assume it, for records prove
+that for most of the year 1426 Masaccio was occupied with
+the great altar-piece for the Carmelites at Pisa. On October
+15, 1426, Masaccio solemnly engaged not to do any other
+work until the altar-piece should be finished. We may believe
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>then that the work in the Brancacci Chapel was taken up
+anew towards 1427.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The four frescoes on the back wall, which are divided into
+two groups by the window, are the first of the new work. Of
+these the most remarkable is St. Peter Baptizing, Figure <a href='#f_089'>89</a>.
+The drawing is magnificent. Light and dark, without aid of
+the line, create so many bosses and pits which not merely
+establish form but suggest the gravest emotions. A few well
+chosen and well placed figures give the sense of a multitude.
+Mountains tower in gigantic scale, one feels the run of the
+little river from its distant source amid high ravines. The
+simplest modulations of light and dark, so many sweeps of a
+broad brush, establish the constructional planes of the figures
+and the mountains. All the early Italian writers mark with
+wondering admiration the expressiveness of the shivering man
+waiting his turn at the left. It is the smallest merit of the
+picture. Masaccio in this great composition commands a
+homely and impressive majesty, and therein shows himself
+true successor of Giotto, but he also reveals a power of synthesis
+entirely modern and hardly excelled since his day.
+One has only to turn to Masolino’s Baptism at Castiglione
+d’Olona, Figure <a href='#f_082'>82</a>, with its niggling insistence on details, to
+appreciate the gulf between the master and the pupil.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Across the window from Masaccio’s Baptism is St. Peter
+Preaching. The same towering, mountain background is
+used. The somewhat linear treatment of the faces has led
+Mr. Berenson, with other critics, to ascribe this fresco to
+Masolino. It seems to me merely less strenuously seen,
+because the subject offers little inspiration. Masaccio has
+lent the theme real dignity, and, in the eager face of the nun
+at the front of the audience achieves an unusual sweetness.
+Technically there are good but not compelling reasons for
+supposing this fresco may have been done among the first,
+about 1425.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>The lower scenes at the back of the Chapel are, at your
+right, St. Peter healing the Sick, by the mere fall of his
+shadow and, at the left, St. Peter giving Alms. In both
+cases we have Florentine street scenes with a classic air
+lent by the solemn figures of the apostles. We feel
+the figures as far or near, and the air that veils them.
+There is great intentness in the poor folk, and a rugged impersonality
+in St. Peter and St. James. They are not indulging
+personal compassion so much as fulfilling a divine
+mission. Again the combination of a drastic realism with a
+stylistic majesty is what makes these frescoes unique. They
+contain vivid portraits, among these the traditional portrait
+of Masolino, a gentle, heavy, middle-aged face, bearded, and
+crowned with a sort of tuque—just the man to have conceived
+the charming but loosely organized compositions at
+Castiglione d’Olona.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>What Masaccio looked like we may see in the upper fresco
+on the right wall. He is the alert and determined figure impersonating
+St. Thomas, at the left of the group. The story
+of the Tribute Money, Figure <a href='#f_090'>90</a>, is one of the grandest
+creations of European art. If, as Leonardo da Vinci asserts,
+the highest task of painting is to show by the pose and gestures
+of the body the emotions of the soul, this is one of the
+greatest paintings. It is remarkable for the dignity lent to an
+apparently unpromising theme. The story is simply that
+Christ is required to pay the <i><span lang="la">denarius</span></i> when there is no money
+in the company. By a miracle Peter finds the coin in the
+mouth of a fish and pays it to the tax-gatherer. How the
+creative imagination has magnified this slender theme! Masaccio
+has formed a group of potent and formidable individuals,
+these simple men are fit to shake a world. He has shown
+them in a moment in which discouragement and determination
+blend. A technicality threatens to check the salvation of
+the world. He has discriminated between the assured authority
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>of the Christ and the wrathful energy of St. Peter.
+He has invested the majestic forms with massive draperies
+grandly disposed in simple folds. He has given even the tax-gatherer
+the grace of a Roman athlete. Finally he has set
+the austere company before a noble river plain upon which
+press the slopes of lofty mountains, while the undulating
+crest of a remoter range almost bars off the sky. All objects,
+human and inanimate, bear firmly on the ground and are
+wrapped in an enveloping atmosphere. In the quality and
+arrangement of the figures, it all derives from Giotto; in the
+vastness of the scale, the introduction of mystery and distance,
+it is wholly Masaccio’s own. Vasari rightly praised the
+harmony and discretion with which these powerful assertions
+of form are made, and sees here the beginnings of the modern
+style of painting.</p>
+
+<div id='f_090'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_090.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 90.</span> Masaccio. The Tribute Money.—<em>Brancacci Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_089'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_089.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 89.</span> Masaccio. St. Peter Baptizing.—<em>Brancacci Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_092'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_092.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 92.</span> Masaccio. The Trinity, Fresco.—<em>Santa Maria Novella.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>The organizing power of Masaccio is at its height in the
+Tribute Money. His emotional intensity is fully involved
+only in the Expulsion from Eden, Figure <a href='#f_091'>91</a>, the adjoining
+fresco in the nave of the church. Before the sword of a serenely
+inexorable angel, Adam and Eve stalk forth into the
+unknown. Their bodies cringe as they move, with shame and
+grief. An ominous light reduces their bodies to so many pits
+of shadow and bosses of light. Drawing of such accurate
+economy will only rarely reappear in the world, in Leonardo
+da Vinci, in Rembrandt, in Honoré  Daumier. The desperate
+emotion is well contained within the oblong, in a monumental
+balance. Remorse in the two first sinners has its shades.
+The man’s head is pressed into his hands in an attempt at
+restraint, while Eve’s is thrown back in anguished ululation.
+The high emotional pressure is new, and symptomatic, and
+significantly it is contained within monumental bounds. The
+Italian Renaissance in its striving for expressiveness will
+rarely fail to keep expression noble. The ingrained classicism
+of the Florentine point of view is never more favorably represented
+than in a subject like this which seeks a maximum emotion
+on terms of order and lucidity.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>What remains of Masaccio is in a sense anti-climax. Very
+stately is the fresco in this chapel, of the Resurrection of the
+Prince of Tyre and St. Peter enthroned. The beauty is
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>that of fine arrangement and characterization. The graceful
+nude boy and about ten distinguished figures behind
+him were added to the composition, presumably from Masaccio’s
+designs, full fifty years later. They are the work
+of Filippino Lippi, who also added some portraits at the left
+of this fresco. He also filled the three unpainted panels, in
+an excellent imitation of Masaccio’s style. Evidently Masaccio
+was called rather abruptly to his last sojourn at Rome.
+For the fresco of the Raising of the Boy could have been
+finished in a fortnight.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>I have omitted a fine fresco of a Pietà in the Collegiate
+Church at Empoli, though I believe it to be a splendid example
+of Masaccio’s early style, and I can only mention for its
+magnificent architectural setting in Brunellesco’s new style the
+fresco of the Trinity in Santa Maria Novella, Figure <a href='#f_092'>92</a>.
+It is of his latest manner and of extraordinary gravity and
+mass.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1428, being only twenty-six years old, Masaccio drops out
+of sight at Rome. Some report that he was poisoned, others
+that he was slain in a street brawl. We really know nothing
+about it. What we do know is that in the recorded history of
+art no painter had achieved so greatly in so short a time.
+Within six short years Masaccio created that method of
+painting which stood uncontested till the advent of luminism
+only forty years ago. And he not merely illustrated the
+method of construction in light and dark, painting in atmospheric
+values rather than in lines and charted areas, but
+he also expressed in the new technic both the noblest traditional
+emotions as also poignant new emotions quite his
+own. In one superb aggressive he had moved three generations
+into the future. For a hundred years the most intelligent
+and ambitious artists in Florence as a matter of course
+studied and copied in the Brancacci Chapel to form their
+style. Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>Raphael, Andrea del Sarto thus paid homage to the
+untidy youth from Castel San Giovanni, and even the iconoclasts
+of today, for whom Leonardo da Vinci and his peers
+are scarcely artists at all, envy the gravity and force of Masaccio.
+He is the real father of modern painting, which is most
+true to itself when it tempers an ardent curiosity as regards
+natural appearances with a respect for the great traditions
+of moderation and taste.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Masaccio’s successors, very wisely, did not closely imitate
+him. They saw he was an unsafe and unapproachable model.
+By a swift impulse of genius, and apparently without
+analytical study of anatomy and topography, he had mastered
+the broad effects that register form. Details he neglected.
+He gives the action of hands and feet, not their articulations,
+the scale of landscape and not its component parts.
+For men of lesser genius, these short-cuts were dangerous.
+While using Masaccio as inspiration, they had to verify his
+discoveries through analytical studies before those innovations
+could become generally available. The process of verification
+and minute research occupied about fifty years
+and may be said to be complete with the maturity of Leonardo
+da Vinci, say about the date of The Last Supper, 1498.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The successors of Masaccio may be divided into two groups
+as they quietly adopted and popularized the immediately
+available part of his discoveries, or strenuously carried his
+work forward. To the moderate progressive group belong
+Fra Filippo Lippi and Benozzo Gozzoli, and still later Ghirlandaio;
+the experimentalists are birds of quite a different
+feather.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>These Florentine realists may be divided into two generations.
+The first asserts itself before the middle of the fifteenth
+century, and is trained chiefly under the influence of
+such sculptors as Donatello, Brunellesco and Ghiberti. These
+painters work at the problem of light and shade, anatomy,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>and perspective, accepting in their art the guidance of sculpture.
+The second generation of realists come to their own
+after the middle of the century, are mostly trained as silversmiths,
+and work at the new technic of oil painting, at landscape
+and at the figure in action. Both groups relatively
+neglected the important matter of composition. Most of
+the realists sacrificed pictorial effect the better to master detail,
+but they also accumulated that vast body of knowledge
+upon which rests the glory of the High Renaissance, and nobody
+can understand the progress of Florentine painting
+without following sympathetically their great effort.</p>
+
+<div id='f_093'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_093.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 93.</span> Paolo Uccello. Battle of Cavalry.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of the first generation, the quaintest figure is Paolo Uccello.
+Born in 1397, he soon gave himself fanatically to the study
+of the new science of perspective, especially to feats of foreshortening.
+His pictures are so many experiments and have
+a petrified inertness. Yet at his best he commands dignity
+and a considerable decorative power. About the year 1435
+he painted for the Medici palace several battle scenes, three
+of which are respectively in the Louvre, Figure <a href='#f_093'>93</a>, National
+Gallery and Uffizi. The last, representing the Florentine victory
+of San Romano, shows the style. The forms are squared, in a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>fashion anticipating modern Cubism, in order to simplify
+the problem of placing and foreshortening. Corpses and
+lances are deliberately pointed at the spectator to offer so
+many problems in perspective. The landscape is minute
+and topographical. The decorative coloring is bold and original
+with interesting dissonances of oranges, russets, and greens.
+It is quite splendid after the unreal fashion of a tapestry.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Paolo’s masterpiece is the equestrian portrait of Sir John
+Hawkwood, Figure <a href='#f_094'>94</a>, the English soldier of fortune and
+occasional captain of the Florentine army, which is in the
+Cathedral. It is painted in gray-green touched with color,
+and simulates a tomb. The date is 1437. Since Roman times
+no equestrian monument of equal dignity had been created,
+and one is inclined to suspect that Uccello profited by preliminary
+studies of Donatello, his close friend, which later
+developed into the superb Gattamelata statue at Padua.
+Uccello has a lighter vein illustrated by furniture panels at
+Oxford, (a Hunt), at Paris, and Vienna, (St. George and
+the Dragon), but his most ambitious work is the decoration
+of the lunettes in the great cloister of Santa Maria Novella.
+The stories are drawn from the Old Testament, were started
+by Paolo, about the year 1446, and continued by several
+assistants. The medium was gray-green, <i><span lang="it">terra verde</span></i>, and the
+place accordingly is called the Green Cloister. Uccello’s
+manner may be best sensed in the fresco of the Deluge, in
+which the endeavor to set problems in perspective clashes
+unhappily with the desire to present a scene of terror. The
+figures are felt one at a time, there is little relation between
+them, and the picture has small merit apart from
+its probity in the rendering of details and a sort of abstract
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Uccello lived on till 1475, an indulged eccentric, ignored
+by the public and ridiculed by his greater friends. His zeal
+for perspective was unabated with age, and many a night
+his much-tried wife lost sleep as he murmured in the small
+hours—“O! thou dear perspective!”</p>
+
+<div id='f_094'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>
+<img src='images/f_094.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 94.</span> Paolo Uccello. Tomb Portrait of Sir John Hawkwood.—<em>Cathedral.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_096'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_096.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 96.</span> Andrea del Castagno. Portrait of a young man.—<em>J. P. Morgan Coll., N. Y.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_095'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_095.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 95.</span> Andrea del Castagno. Pippo Spano.—<em>Sant’ Apollonia.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_097'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_097.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 97.</span> Andrea del Castagno. Tomb portrait of Niccolò da Tolentino.—<em>Cathedral.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>Far the most powerful of these early realists is Andrea
+del Castagno.<a id='r37'></a><a href='#f37' class='c012'><sup>[37]</sup></a> His aggressive and truculent forms savor
+of Donatello without Donatello’s fineness. He searches the
+secrets of anatomy, locates and describes the muscles and
+sinews, depicts a world ruled by force of arm. Although he
+builds in heavy shadows, after Masaccio’s fashion, he retains
+an outline that vibrates with nervous strength. His
+truthful sternness still wins approbation. He was born about
+1390. We meet him first in full maturity, perhaps about
+the year 1435, as decorator of the Villa of the Pandolfini.
+To strengthen the ambition of that proud race, he painted
+in their great hall nine figures of heroes and heroines noted
+in war or in the arts. Recently transferred to the Convent
+of Sant’ Apollonia, which already had a Last Supper and
+a Calvary by Andrea, you may see the austere forms of Dante,
+Petrarch, and Boccaccio, of Esther, Queen Thomyris and
+the Cumean Sibyl, of the warrior Farinata degli Uberti,
+Niccolò Accaiuoli, and Filippo Scolari. This potent and
+melancholy figure of Pippo Spano, Figure <a href='#f_095'>95</a>, whom we already
+know as the patron of Masolino, at Buda, is the
+most striking representation that painting has given us of
+those masterful Italian soldiers of fortune who managed war
+and government for the less advanced nations. Pippo Spano
+had gone to Buda as a clerk and had quickly become a
+generalissimo, Obergespann of Temesvár. For King Sigismund
+of Hungary he stemmed the Turkish onslaught, did
+much to save Central Europe for Christianity. As he stands
+thoughtfully confident, holding the scimitar, the weapon of
+his foes, he is the beau ideal of that Italy soon to be immortalized
+by Machiavelli, in which virtue meant successful force,
+and both were on sale. A man’s portrait, Figure <a href='#f_096'>96</a>, in the
+collection of Mr. J. P. Morgan, New York, has an even more
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>sinister intensity. Equally remarkable for its heroic aggressiveness
+in the young David adorning a tournament shield
+in the Widener Collection, Figure <a href='#f_070'>70</a>.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the fresco of the Crucifixion, now in the Uffizi, Andrea
+reveals great knowledge linked to tragic expressiveness. No
+tenderness veils the appalling theme. An athlete suffers
+stoically while his mother and cousin shudder with grief.
+Of its ruthless kind it is a great masterpiece and quite unforgettable.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1456 Andrea painted for the Cathedral the equestrian
+portrait of the partisan leader, Niccolò da Tolentino, Figure
+<a href='#f_097'>97</a>. It is a companion piece to Uccello’s Hawkwood, and
+like it simulates statuary, in monochrome. It is more martial
+and restless, in the toss of the horse’s head and the snap of
+the rider’s cloak. It suggests not ceremonious dignity, but
+noise and impending action. It may very powerfully have
+influenced Verrocchio twenty years later when he modelled
+for Venice the Colleoni statue.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The truculence of Andrea’s manner led to a false and
+scandalous tradition, promulgated by Vasari, that he slew
+his rival Domenico Veneziano out of jealousy. As a matter
+of prosaic record, Domenico Veneziano survived his alleged
+assassin’s death, in 1457, by all of four years.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Domenico came down from Venice somewhere about 1438
+and brought with him a new technical method. He finished
+the pictures, which he began in tempera, with veilings or
+glazes in an oil or varnish medium. He avoided the old frank
+Gothic coloring in favor of pale tonalities which oddly forecast
+our modern open-air school. The new method permitted
+of bolder brushwork and successive over paintings. For the
+moment it wrought havoc with the old conventional beauty,
+but it offered the painter new resources and refinements,
+and eventually made possible the triumphs of Leonardo and
+Titian.</p>
+
+<div id='f_098'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>
+<img src='images/f_098.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 98.</span> Domenico Veneziano. Madonna with St. Lucy.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>On the whole, Domenico is merely the shadow of a great
+name, for we have only a handful of works by him, and those
+perhaps unrepresentative. The altar-piece of St. Lucy, in
+the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_098'>98</a>, is novel only in its acid and original
+dissonance of deep rose and pale green. The rugged St. John
+the Baptist shows an attempt to obtain force of modelling
+without exaggerating the shadows. This tendency persists
+in such disciples of Domenico as Baldovinetti and Piero della
+Francesca, and rules in Florence until Leonardo’s definitive
+application of Masaccio’s methods. In the profile portraiture
+of the period Domenico was a master, as shown in an admirable
+female portrait in Mrs. John L. Gardner’s collection,
+Figure <a href='#f_099'>99</a>. Many similar heads, which we can hardly
+ascribe to particular masters, seem to derive from Domenico.
+One of the most beautiful is in the Poldi Pezzoli Museum
+at Milan. All of Domenico’s pupils and imitators excel
+in a minute and topographical style of landscape of which
+he was probably the inventor. It may be studied in Piero
+della Francesca, in the Pollaiuoli, in Baldovinetti, and there
+is even a trace of it in the spacious Alpine background of
+the Mona Lisa.</p>
+
+<div id='f_099'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>
+<img src='images/f_099.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 99.</span> Domenico Veneziano. Portrait of a Girl.—<em>Coll. Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Domenico died in 1461. By that time Florentine realism
+was emerging from its first phase, and was beginning to investigate
+with its new resources the facts of motion. It was
+the moment, too, when certain realists sought to regain the
+grace which had largely been sacrificed in the struggle for
+sheer knowledge.</p>
+
+<div id='f_100'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_100.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 100.</span> A. Baldovinetti. Madonna.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Alesso Baldovinetti<a id='r38'></a><a href='#f38' class='c012'><sup>[38]</sup></a> well represents this moment in a
+lovely Madonna in the Louvre, Figure <a href='#f_100'>100</a>, which shows in
+perfection the new topographical landscape and that juvenile
+graciousness which was to be the staple of the coming generation
+of artists. Baldovinetti was born in 1425, and this loveliest
+of all his pictures may represent him about the year 1460.
+He had been an assistant of Fra Angelico, but in a long career,
+he died in 1499, he fell behind the times. He taught Domenico
+Ghirlandaio his elements, and profoundly influenced Andrea
+Verrocchio and Antonio Pollaiuolo. Thus he keeps a sure if
+modest place in the progress of Florentine art.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>In this chapter we have been dealing in a rough way with
+the Florence of Cosimo de’ Medici. Under his astute and
+delicate rule from behind the political scenes, Florence developed
+in wealth, splendor, and worldliness. The old piety
+was waning or assuming merely æsthetic forms. Greek
+studies were beginning to pave the way for an enlightened
+and sceptical humanism and, withal, a revival of the pagan
+sense of beauty. And when the new beauty came, it was
+gratefully mindful of those who had made it possible. Leonardo
+de Vinci lauds Masaccio. He expresses the immense
+debt that art owes to the first conscious realists. They did
+good and harm, but to Florence at least they opened the only
+way of progress. For whatever art may be elsewhere, in Florence
+it was fruitful only as it was intellectualized. Good
+theory, good practice—such was the creed imposed by the
+early realists and later formulated by their great scion, Leonardo.
+I do not offer it as a universal formula, but in these
+days when pure spontaneity—that is no theory—and
+false theory divide the field, the old Florentine credo is at
+least worthy of consideration by all who produce art and by
+all who love it. Baldovinetti was untouched by these new
+stirrings which are associated with the rule of Lorenzo de’
+Medici, but he dimly forecasts the grace that was soon to
+come. This new spirit and its exponents must be the theme
+of our next chapter.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER III</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Vasari on Masaccio</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Vasari’s general estimate of Masaccio’s importance is still sound.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“With regard to the good manner of painting, we are indebted above
+all to Masaccio, seeing that he, as one desirous of acquiring fame, perceived
+that painting is nothing but the counterfeiting of all the things
+of nature, vividly and simply, with drawing and with colours, even as
+she produced them for us.... This truth, I say, being recognized by
+Masaccio, brought it about that by means of continuous study he
+learned so much that he can be numbered among the first who cleared
+away, in a great measure, the hardness, the imperfections, and the
+difficulties of the art, and that he gave a beginning to beautiful attitudes,
+movements, liveliness, and vivacity, and to a certain relief
+truly characteristic and natural; which no painter up to his time had
+done.... And he painted his works with good unity and softness,
+harmonizing the flesh-colours of the heads and of the nudes with the
+colours of the draperies, which he delighted to make with few folds
+and simple, as they are in life and nature....</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“For this reason that chapel has been frequented continually up
+to our own day [1554] by innumerable draughtsmen and masters;
+and there still are therein some heads so life-like and so beautiful,
+that it may truly be said that no master of that age approached so
+nearly as this man did to the moderns. His labours, therefore, deserve
+infinite praise, and above all because he gave form in his art to the
+beautiful manner of the times.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Vasari then names twenty-five artists who studied Masaccio’s frescoes.
+From De Vere’s translation of the <cite>Lives</cite>, Vol. II, p. 189, 90.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Leonardo da Vinci on Masaccio</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Leonardo da Vinci uses Masaccio as the example of a painter who
+goes to nature rather than to other men’s painting.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'><strong>That Painting declines and deteriorates from age to age, when
+painters have no standard but painting already done.</strong></p>
+
+<p class='c020'>“Hence the painter will produce pictures of small merit if he takes
+for his standard the pictures of others. But if he will study from natural
+objects he will bear good fruit; as was seen in the painters after the
+Romans who always imitated each other, and so their art declined
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>from age to age. After these came Giotto the Florentine who—not
+content with imitating the works of Cimabue; his master—being
+born in the mountains and in a solitude inhabited only by goats and
+such beasts, and being guided by nature to his art, began by drawing
+on the rocks the movements of the goats of which he was keeper. And
+thus he began to draw all the animals which were to be found in the
+country, and in such wise that after much study he excelled not only
+all the masters of his time but all those of many bygone ages.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Afterwards this art declined again, because everyone imitated the
+pictures that were already done; thus it went on from century to century
+until Tomaso, of Florence, nicknamed Masaccio, showed by his
+perfect works how those who take for their standard any one but nature—the
+mistress of all masters—weary themselves in vain.”</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c021'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>J. P. Richter “<cite>Literary Works of L. da V.</cite>,” Vol. I. p. 660.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c020'>But Leonardo approves also imitation of antiquity (Richter, Vol. II,
+¶1445). “The imitation of antique things is better than that of modern
+things.” He would probably have sanctioned Masaccio’s devout
+study of Giotto. The warning is against slavish imitation of immediate
+predecessors.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Vasari on Paolo Uccello</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>The admirable and self sacrificing ardor of these first realists is best
+exemplified in the case of Paolo Uccello.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>“For the sake of these investigations [in perspective] he kept himself
+in seclusion and almost a hermit, having little intercourse with
+anyone, and staying weeks and months in his house without shaving
+himself. And although those were difficult and beautiful problems, if
+he had spent that time in the study of figures, he would have brought
+them to absolute perfection; for even so he made them with passing
+good draughtsmanship. But, consuming his time in these researches,
+he remained throughout his whole life more poor than famous; wherefore
+the sculptor Donatello, who was very much his friend, said to him
+very often—when Paolo showed him Mazzocchi (facetted head-fillets)
+with pointed ornaments, and squares drawn in perspective
+from diverse aspects; spheres with seventy-two diamond-shaped facets,
+with wood-shavings wound round sticks on each facet; and other fantastic
+devices on which he spent and wasted his time—‘Ah, Paolo,
+this perspective of thine makes thee abandon the substance for the
+shadow; those are things that are only useful to men who work at the inlaying
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>of wood, seeing that they fill their borders with chips and shavings,
+with spirals both round and square, and with other similar things.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>Vasari, in Schele de Vere’s translation; Vol. II. p. 132, 3.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>An Appraisal of Baldovinetti’s Frescoes</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Here I may illustrate a common practice of the times in an
+appraisal of Baldovinetti’s frescoes in the choir of the Trinità by
+fellow artists including Benozzo Gozzoli, Cosimo Rosselli and Pietro
+Perugino.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>“In the name of God—on the 19 of January 1496 (n. s. ’97)</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>We Benozzo di Lese, painter; and Piero di Cristofano da Castel
+della Pieve, painter; and Cosimo di Lorenzo Rosselli, painter, chosen
+by Alesso di Baldovinetti, painter, to see and judge and set
+a price on—empowered by a contract which said Alesso has with M.
+Bongianni de’Gianfigliazzi and his heirs—a chapel pictured in Santa
+Trinità of Florence—that is the choir of the said church, having seen,
+all together and agreeing, having examined all the costs of lime, azure,
+gold and all other colours, scaffolds and everything else, including his
+work, we judge from all this that the aforesaid Alesso should have
+one thousand broad gold florins.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“And for clearness and truth of the said judgment I Cosimo di
+Lorenzo aforesaid have made this writing with my own hand this
+aforesaid day, and so I judge; and here at the foot they will sign with
+their own hands that they are agreed with what is above written, and
+so judge.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Benozzo di Lese &#38;c.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>I Piero Perugino &#38;c.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>Translated from Herbert Horne’s edition of Alesso’s <cite>Ricordi</cite> in <cite>Burlington
+Magazine</cite>, Vol. II. (1903) p. 383.</p>
+
+<div id='f_101'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>
+<img src='images/f_101.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 101.</span> Ghirlandaio. Giovanna degli Albizzi.—<em>J. P. Morgan Coll., New York.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter IV</span></span><br> FRA FILIPPO LIPPI AND THE NEW NARRATIVE STYLE</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>After Masaccio two tendencies,—towards prettiness and vivacious narrative;
+towards strenuous research—Fra Filippo Lippi celebrant of Gay Florence—Benozzo
+Gozzoli and Pageantry—Antonio Pollaiuolo and human
+dynamics—Piero della Francesca and impersonal observation of appearances—Dissolving
+tendencies in the new panoramic style—illustrated
+by the early frescoes in the Sistine Chapel—Perugino’s return to
+simple symmetries—The <em>Cassone</em> painters once more—Domenico
+Ghirlandaio and spectacular narrative—His portraits—The charm
+of the slighter narrative style.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In the last chapter we have dealt chiefly with innovators
+and reformers. Whether in art or life, these are not always
+the most agreeable companions. The charming person is
+generally a traditionalist, or a tactful profiteer by other men’s
+discoveries. So the popular favor has ever gone not to the
+strenuous artists of Masaccio’s type or Castagno’s, but to
+devotees of the charm of common folk and things, like Fra
+Filippo Lippi; to masters of pageantry and incident, like
+Benozzo Gozzoli; or to chroniclers of the festal richness
+of Florence in her short prime, like Domenico Ghirlandaio.
+These artists, while by no means giants, are highly representative
+of their times. They one and all aimed to please, and
+amply succeeded. Their importance in the history of art is
+rather slight; in the history of taste, on the contrary, they
+are very important. And it is from that point of view that
+we shall do well to consider them. These three masters cover
+the last two-thirds of the fifteenth century. They exemplify
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>the taste of the new-rich merchants who flourished under
+the benevolent tyranny of the Medici.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Alongside of these gracious and adaptable spirits, struggled
+the continuers of the realistic reform—Antonio Pollaiuolo,
+who first systematically studied the anatomy and dynamics
+of the human form; Andrea Verrocchio, who imbued accuracy
+and power with grace; Sandro Botticelli, who explored solitary
+roads of sentiment and wrought out of the ruggedness
+of the realists strange forms of recondite beauty. At all times
+we find the endeavor for artistic adaptation running alongside
+the passion for sheer discovery, and producing its own
+triumphs. It is this complicated, dual process which makes
+the richness and continuity of the Early Renaissance. If
+we compare the seventy-two years between the beginnings of
+Masaccio, say 1422, and the death of Ghirlandaio, in 1494,
+with the century and a half preceding, we shall note an extraordinary
+acceleration both of production and progress.
+There are no gaps and rests; each generation makes its discoveries
+and cashes them in. Architecture, sculpture, classical
+scholarship develop with a whirling rapidity which by
+no means precludes taste and reflection. In an almost reckless
+expansion of emotion, experience, and creative activity,
+Florence keeps her head though she risks losing her soul.
+And the true harbinger of this intoxicating new life is one
+who often lost his head and whose soul remains enigmatic,
+the wayward and fascinating painter-monk, Fra Filippo
+Lippi.<a id='r39'></a><a href='#f39' class='c012'><sup>[39]</sup></a></p>
+
+<div id='f_102'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>
+<img src='images/f_102.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 102.</span> Filippo Lippi. Madonna in Adoration.—<em>Berlin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>He was the first Italian painter to care greatly for the look
+of everyday people. Born about the year 1400, he was early
+orphaned and thrust willy-nilly into the Carmelite Order.
+As a young man he must have seen Masaccio painting those
+titanic designs in the Brancacci Chapel. From Masaccio
+Fra Filippo learned his trade, rather by observation than by
+direct instruction. But he cared for far different things.
+He really follows the tender narrative vein of Lorenzo Monaco.
+To the grandeur of miracle-working apostles, he preferred the
+gentle quaintness of the old man who kept the shops and
+practiced the trades of Florence; to the matronly dignity
+of Masaccio’s women, he preferred the shy and alluring sweetness
+of the Florentine girls about him; to the majestic sweeps
+of mountain and valley in Masaccio, the intimate appeal of
+the cypress groves, the little ledges and trickling springs.
+In technique, too, he avoided the bold short-cuts of his master.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>He hung on to the line, loved details, described everything
+with solicitude. It is an art of amiability and curiosity, generally
+disregardful of that grand
+style towards which in her greater
+moments Florence ever aspired.
+The advent of Fra Filippo in the
+Florence of Giotto and Orcagna
+and Masaccio, was like that of
+an irresistibly attractive youth in
+a solemn company. He loosened
+everything up. Unconsciously he
+demoralized the assembly; for two
+generations the art of Florence
+was to be boyish and girlish.
+That is its charm and its limitation,
+and the difference between
+the Early Renaissance and the
+Golden Age will be largely that
+the latter will prefer to depict with the gravity of maturity a
+world that has grown up.</p>
+
+<div id='f_103'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_103.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 103.</span> Fra Fillipo Lippi. Madonna and Child.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>One of the earliest and most exquisite panels by Fra Filippo
+was painted shortly after 1435 for the private chapel of Cosimo
+de’ Medici’s new palace, and is now at Berlin. The theme,
+young Mary kneeling before her Divine Infant, Figure <a href='#f_102'>102</a>,
+is a favorite with the Florentine artists of this century. Perhaps
+no one has conceived it more delightfully than Fra Filippo.
+The picture gets its peculiar sweetness from the gentle, girlish
+figure of the Maiden Mother, its quality of romance from
+the ledgy background watered by springs and spangled with
+modest flowers, its tang of reality from the chubby and stolid
+Christchild and the boyish St. John the Baptist. You could
+almost see such a thing today along the shaded upper Mensola
+when a young Florentine mother has taken the children for
+a Sunday picnic. For the old Gothic conventions and the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>bare majesty of Masaccio’s painting, Fra Filippo has substituted
+the everyday joys of a feeling eye, and the charm of
+closely-observed little things.</p>
+
+<div id='f_104'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_104.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 104.</span> Fra Filippo Lippi. Coronation of the Virgin.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In most of his pictures this familiar quality is marked.
+His saints are not types, but people of the Florentine middle
+class. An early Madonna in the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_103'>103</a>, shows the
+Virgin as a slight girl with her ash-blond locks elaborately
+dressed and braided for a holiday. She is almost overborne
+by her sturdy Son, an exacting brute, one may imagine,
+while the attendant angel is a grinning street Arab caught
+in the intervals of mischief. Such pictures with their winsomeness
+and actuality worked powerfully to break down both
+the old Gothic decorum and the new sublimity of Masaccio.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>To grasp the novelty of Fra Filippo’s most famous panel
+picture, The Coronation of the Virgin, painted for the nuns
+of St. Ambrogio in 1441, Figure <a href='#f_104'>104</a>, and now in the Uffizi,
+one has only to recall the devoutly formal and simple version
+of the subject which Fra Angelico painted about the same
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>time for the convent of San Marco. The composition of Fra
+Filippo, on the contrary, is radiantly informal. We breathe
+the air of the commencement at a very nice girls’ school,
+with adoring friends and proud relatives moving at the edges
+of the ceremony. Indeed God the Father has merely the air
+of a benevolent trustee or visiting minor celebrity awarding
+a prize to the best girl. It is all like the crowning of a <i><span lang="fr">Rosière</span></i>
+in a French village. Robert Browning in one of the most
+admirable poems in “Men and Women” makes Fra Filippo
+promise</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in22'>“I shall paint</div>
+      <div class='line'>God in the midst, Madonna and her Babe.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Ringed by a bowery, flowery angel-brood,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Lilies and vestments and white faces, sweet</div>
+      <div class='line'>As puff on puff of grated orris-root</div>
+      <div class='line'>When ladies crowd to church at Midsummer.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>Our picture is evidence enough that the time has come to
+Florentine art when youth shall be served.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Monastic vows, and in fact duties of any sort, bore lightly
+on Fra Filippo. He tasted the forbidden sweets of life recklessly,
+and worked only when the rare mood urged. He was
+in and out of the good graces of the Medici. Called to Prato
+to fresco the choir of the Collegiata, in 1455, he was nine
+years achieving what a steady workman would have done
+in two. But in the meantime Fra Filippo had run away with
+the nun, Lucrezia Buti, shuffled off his monastic vows (through
+the indulgence of the humanist Pope, Pius II), married and
+settled down as the father of a family. His random joyous
+course was nearly run, and his last frescoes at Prato show a
+kind of discipline that is foreign to his earlier work. In 1464
+he completed the Feast of Herod and the Funeral of St.
+Stephen, frescoes which forecast the sort of narrative painting
+that was to mark the close of the century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>About the brutality of the Feast of Herod, Figure <a href='#f_105'>105</a>, Fra
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Filippo has cast a dreamy glamour, as indeed Giotto had before
+him. The youthful guests are absorbed in Salome’s
+dancing. Following the sculptors of the day, Fra Filippo has
+made her slight and graceful, as she trips a careless measure.
+The air is simply that of a gentle society. The grim motive
+of the delivery of the head of John the Baptist to Herodias
+is gently emphasized by the charming act of two little handmaids
+who clutch each other for fright. The sprightliness
+of the invention, the generalized idyllic charm of the feeling,
+the rich variety of accessories, the youthful timbre of the
+whole—make this not merely one of the best but also one
+of the most characteristic narrative mural paintings of the
+Early Renaissance. It strikes the note which will be echoed
+by Fra Filippo’s apprentice, Sandro Botticelli; which will be
+exaggerated by Fra Filippo’s son, Filippino, and distantly
+imitated by many another Florentine successor.</p>
+
+<div id='f_105'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_105.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 105.</span> Fra Filippo Lippi. Feast of Herod. Salome’s Dance. Fresco.—<em>Collegiata. Prato.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>If the Feast of Herod best exemplifies the element of homely
+poetry and inventive grace in Fra Filippo, the Burial of St.
+Stephen, Figure <a href='#f_106'>106</a>, just opposite in the choir proves that
+he was not oblivious to the high and decorous prose of his
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>master Masaccio. In formality and power of construction
+few painters then living could have equalled it, and those
+few could not have rivalled its spacious architectural setting
+and its suggestion of atmosphere. At first sight it seems
+nearly equal to the Tribute Money or at least to the Tabitha.
+On more careful survey it is less noble, more insistently pathetic,
+and in every way more loosely knit. In particular
+the portraits at the sides have little but a mechanical relation
+to the theme. Masaccio himself had admitted a similar
+gallery of mere bystanders in The Miracle of the Prince, but
+had he lived to complete the fresco, he would doubtless have
+brought the portrait figures into some relation of interest
+in the miracle. Fra Filippo virtually waives that problem
+and merely flanks his real subject with bordering groups of
+persons of contemporary importance. As a matter of fact, the
+Florentine donor was no longer humble-minded and content
+to appear among the saints in miniature and unobtrusive
+guise. He now insisted in being painted to the life with his
+family, friends, and dependents,—a complacent, incongruous
+apparition amid the humility or heroism of the saints.
+Fra Filippo made the sensible adjustment that the donors
+should serve as a sort of human frame for the religious picture
+in the centre. This solution became tiresomely standard
+and lasted for fifty years or so, until the High Renaissance
+had authority enough to impose considerations of taste and
+self-effacement even upon wealthy donors.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1465 Fra Filippo was called to Spoleto, and there having
+started a lovely apse decoration, A Coronation, for the cathedral,
+he died and was buried. Quite unconsciously he had
+temporarily shattered that intellectual formalism which is
+the very essence of Florentine art, and had inaugurated that
+moral and artistic holiday which is made visible in the painting
+of Botticelli and Ghirlandaio and audible in the songs
+of Lorenzo de’ Medici.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>This holiday mood is strong in Benozzo Gozzoli, and he
+spread it through Umbria and the Sienese country. Born
+in 1420, for a time an assistant of Fra Angelico, Benozzo’s
+task was to depict with more vivacity than insight the splendors
+and humors of life. This he does, whether his theme be
+the legend of St. Francis, as at Montefalco in 1462, the Cavalcade
+of the Magi, Florence, 1469, the Life of St. Augustine,
+San Gimignano, 1465, or the doings of the Old Testament
+Patriarchs and Matriarchs, at Pisa, 1468–1484. He is always
+sunny, profuse, witty in an obvious way; and not without
+his tinge of the poetry of youth. He loves gardens, courtyards,
+forests, and equally well palaces, colonnades, crowds
+and incidents. He is indefatigably panoramic, and his frescoes,
+if hardly good pictures, are at least good pickings, for
+their abundant and often refreshing detail.</p>
+
+<div id='f_106'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_106.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 106.</span> Fra Filippo Lippi. Funeral of St. Stephen. Fresco.—<em>Collegiata. Prato.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Very splendid is that pageant of the Wise Men from the
+East, Figure <a href='#f_107'>107</a>, which he painted about 1469<a id='r40'></a><a href='#f40' class='c012'><sup>[40]</sup></a> for the private
+chapel of Cosimo de’ Medici’s palace. The gorgeous procession
+winds about the walls, moving over the mountain
+roads and through the forests which you may still see up
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>the Arno valley towards Vallombrosa. Their goal was the
+little panel over the altar where Filippo Lippi painted the
+Madonna reverently kneeling before her Son, Figure <a href='#f_102'>102</a>.
+This little picture was flanked by choirs, in fresco, of singing
+angels. For the oldest of the Three Kings Benozzo chose,
+according to tradition, the unfortunate Emperor John Palaeologus,
+who thirty years earlier had come to Florence on the
+vain mission of uniting the Eastern and Western branches of
+the Christian Church. The youthful kings are said to portray
+Giuliano and Lorenzo de’ Medici. What we really have is a
+pictorial version of those religious pageants or representations
+which were common at the times. Many times Florence had
+seen her patricians in such a cavalcade. Benozzo’s fresco in
+its undiminished loveliness of color and gold—the Medici apparently
+either ordered few masses or burned few candles
+in their family chapel—is a most precious relic of bygone
+splendors. Indeed they passed before Benozzo himself, for
+he lived on till 1498, four years after Lorenzo the Magnificent’s
+death, and the year of Savonarola’s martyrdom; the
+year, too, when Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper was being
+finished. Few artists have had such emphatic intimations
+that their world and they themselves were obsolete. It is
+in every way to be hoped in Benozzo’s case that he was at
+once too cheerful and too unintelligent to grasp the situation.
+This may be fairly supposed of a man who was content for
+fifty years of a swiftly moving world with what could be learned
+from Fra Angelico.</p>
+
+<div id='f_107'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>
+<img src='images/f_107.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 107.</span> Benozzo Gozzoli. Detail from Procession of Magi.—<em>Riccardi Palace.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_108'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_108.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 108.</span> Antonio Pollaiuolo. Martyrdom of St. Sebastian.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of course some painters declined to keep holiday and feverishly
+pursued the lines of realistic investigation laid down by
+Castagno and his contemporaries. The most notable of these
+is Antonio Pollaiuolo.<a id='r41'></a><a href='#f41' class='c012'><sup>[41]</sup></a> He was trained in sculpture under
+Ghiberti, and worked most variously, at sculpture, painting,
+engraving, glass designing, and even embroiderers’ patterns.
+Everywhere he pursued with an almost ferocious intensity
+the secrets of anatomy and especially of the human body in
+violent action. He conceived the body as a powerful machine
+and rejoiced to display its mechanisms—knotted muscles,
+straining sinews. He chose his subjects with this sort of display
+in mind: Hercules and his feats, the archers setting their
+bows and crossbows for the slaying of St. Sebastian, nude men
+in deadly combat with dirks and axes, nude men wildly dancing.
+Nearly all these works suffer from their avowed experimentalism,
+but all are alive with a tingling not to say brutal
+energy. Antonio Pollaiuolo is the ancestor of all the strong
+painters who for over four centuries have delighted to appal
+the mild and sheeplike throng with wolfish antics. He is
+the first artist who is a specialist, pursuing his own ends in
+disregard of the surrounding public. As a matter of fact,
+Antonio’s muscular paganism fitted in fairly well with the
+notions of a Florence that worshipped power. The Medici
+ordered the twelve feats of Hercules for their palace, about
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>the year 1460. The great pictures are lost, but little copies
+by Antonio himself give an idea of their truculent force. In
+the Uffizi are Hercules crushing the breath out of the earthborn
+demigod Antæus, and Hercules slaying the Hydra.
+The tension, ardor, and ferocity of these tiny pictures are
+extraordinary. They seem to enhance our own physical
+life. At New Haven is the panel of Hercules shooting the
+Centaur Nessus, who races across a ford with Deinaira
+on his back. The background is an exact picture of the Arno
+valley looking from the west towards Florence. The representation
+of the run of the river is extraordinary. Pollaiuolo
+had adopted Domenico Veneziano’s miniature conception
+of landscape, but has introduced swing and motion.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Equally remarkable is the Arno landscape in the Martyrdom
+of St. Sebastian, Figure <a href='#f_108'>108</a>, which was painted in 1475.
+It has the defects of an experimental and academic performance,
+is a show piece. The executioners are even repeated,
+to show both front and rear aspects. All the same, its power
+is impressive and beyond the range of any artist then living,
+with the possible exception of Piero della Francesca. In
+painting Pollaiuolo’s accomplishment is so even, and in draped
+figures so ugly, that we may well pass the series of Virtues
+which with his brother Piero he did in 1469 for the Mercantile
+Court, and consider his great engraving known as the
+Ten Nudes, Figure <a href='#f_109'>109</a>, the odd decorative disposition of which
+is imitated by Botticelli in the Allegory of Spring; and the
+fresco of Dancing Men, in which Pollaiuolo successfully vies
+with the convivial and Bacchic themes of the Greek vase
+painters. The group is odd and effective as pattern, and
+inspired by a joyous energy.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Painting only claimed a fraction of Antonio’s effort; often
+he merely made the sketch and left the execution to his rather
+tame brother, Piero. At the end of his life he was called down
+to Rome to make the bronze tomb for Sixtus IV. There he
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>died in the year 1498, being sixty-three years old. While
+his own achievement was somewhat cramped and limited,
+he had made the most valuable contributions to the art, or
+rather to the science of painting. He had inspired a titan
+like Signorelli and a poet like Botticelli, and in certain aspects
+Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo only continued and perfected
+his work. As late as Benvenuto Cellini’s day his sketches
+were passed about the studios for the instruction of young
+painters in anatomy.</p>
+
+<div id='f_109'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_109.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 109.</span> Antonio Pollaiuolo. Fighting Men—“The Ten Nudes.” Engraving.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A kindred strenuous spirit, Piero della Francesca,<a id='r42'></a><a href='#f42' class='c012'><sup>[42]</sup></a> affords
+an interesting contrast to Pollaiuolo. Though an Umbrian,
+he belongs spiritually to Florence. For Piero the world was
+a frozen thing. He investigated with utmost zeal the mathematical
+basis of perspective, producing on that topic a laborious
+and quite unreadable book. He studied anatomy
+and construction in light and dark, and all the atmospheric
+problems therewith associated. To attain atmospheric envelopment,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>he sacrificed color. His pictures exist in silvery
+grays, suggesting the blondness and tonal unity of modern
+open-air painting. The drama of life never engrossed him.
+His world is passionless and
+almost motionless, coldly impressive.
+Although he practiced
+all refinements of modelling, he
+never made those relaxations of
+contour which suggest movement.
+His figures are finely constructed
+and beautifully placed
+but emotionally unrelated. They
+merely exist rather splendidly, as
+do some of Manet’s figures. Indeed
+the warning of George Moore
+as regards Manet applies equally
+to Piero. It is futile to seek from
+him anything but fine painting.</p>
+
+<div id='f_110'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_110.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 110.</span> Piero della Francesca. The Resurrection.—<em>Borgo S. Sepolcro.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of his origins we know next to nothing. He was born about
+1410 in the Umbrian town of Borgo San Sepolcro. For several
+years after 1439 we find him at Florence as a paid assistant
+of Domenico Veneziano, whose pale tonalities and topographically
+minute landscape reappear throughout Piero’s
+work. His austere power is best represented in the bleak
+Resurrection, Figure <a href='#f_110'>110</a>, which he painted in 1460 for his
+native city. The stalwart Conqueror of Death has an apparitional
+impressiveness. He comes with power from beyond
+the grave. He dominates the world as represented by the
+sleeping athletes of the guard. A most potent effect is obtained
+without sacrifice to sentiment. There is a similar detachment
+in the Baptism of Christ, in the National Gallery,
+London. Its pearly loveliness of color is in odd contrast to
+its evasions of anything like warmth or tenderness. It is less
+an event than a magnificently posed scene. The landscape
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>is a liberating and informal feature, a skilful adaptation of
+the method of Domenico Veneziano and Pollaiuolo. It is
+as crisp and calculated as a Japanese print, yet it gives
+its effect of space and breadth.</p>
+
+<div id='f_111'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_111.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 111.</span> Piero della Francesca. Battle of Constantine, detail from fresco.—<em>S. Francesco, Arezzo.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Piero’s great opportunity came about 1465 when he painted
+in the choir of San Francesco at Arezzo ten stories from the
+Legend of the Holy Cross. For stark impressiveness it is hard
+to match them in Italy in this century. Only Masaccio and
+Leonardo da Vinci will at all bear the comparison. On analysis,
+the power rests mostly on the seriousness with which Piero
+takes his technical problem. There is little real grief or pathos
+in the Last Days of Adam, it is merely impersonally solemn.
+Even of the admirable fresco which represents Constantine in
+the uneasy dream in which he saw the vision of the cross,
+there is no warmth, no unexpected or emotional quality. So
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>it is throughout the series; in the Queen of Sheba visiting
+Solomon, even in the splendid battle-piece, the Victory over
+Maxentius, Figure <a href='#f_111'>111</a>, the obvious sentiment of the theme is
+ignored, the figures have a kind of splendid unrelated existence
+that requires no apology or explanation. It is an effect that
+recalls the best archaic Greek sculpture.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Taken all in all, Piero is a formidable and enigmatic figure,
+an exception in an eager and emotional age. His truth to his
+vision is what counts. One feels it in the portrait of the humanist
+sovereign and captain of Urbino, Federigo da Montefeltro.
+It was painted about 1472 and is in the Uffizi, Figure
+<a href='#f_112'>112</a>. How sternly honest it is, and what a presentation of
+a powerful and beneficent personality. Even the little decorative
+picture on the back of the panel, a Triumph of Fame,
+has an effect beyond its scale and obvious intention. It suggests
+wide dominions and heavy responsibilities manfully
+met.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Piero della Francesca lived out his life mostly in Umbria
+and far from the artistic centre of things. There is a self-sufficing
+quality in this voluntary isolation. He lived on to
+great old age, dying in 1492, and unless his declining years
+were perturbed by the faintly rising star of Leonardo da Vinci,
+he might boast himself, in the words of his and Leonardo’s
+friend, Fra Luca Pacioli, “the monarch of his times in the
+science of painting.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>We must leave for the Umbrian chapter such sturdy continuers
+of Piero della Francesca’s experimentalism as Melozzo
+da Forlì and Luca Signorelli. What is more important to
+note in leaving him is that such triumphs as his in fresco
+painting were highly exceptional in the second half of the
+fifteenth century.  The successes of the period are in the
+minor art of panel painting. The fantasies of Botticelli,
+the best portraits of Ghirlandaio, the early panels of Perugino
+and Signorelli and Leonardo da Vinci—these are the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>outstanding things. In mural painting Florence actually
+retrograded, not merely as compared with the days of Masaccio,
+Fra Filippo and Fra Angelico, but even as compared with
+the earlier days of Andrea Bonaiuti,
+Agnolo Gaddi and Spinello
+Aretino. The fact has been obscured
+by the superficial gain in
+small realism, in sprightliness,
+and mere prettiness, but in all
+the serious qualities of monumental
+design the decadence is
+unmistakable. The favorite decorators
+simply executed on a
+large scale the sort of compositions
+that would have been
+charming on the front of a bride-chest.
+In the general enthusiasm
+for the parts of pictures the
+sense of pictures as a whole
+seemed in danger of being lost.
+The undiscriminating enthusiasm for the primitive painting of
+the Early Renaissance which has ruled for two generations has
+so clouded critical opinion on this point, that I must be at
+some pains to make my case good.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Perhaps I can do no better than to review some of the
+frescoes which Pope Sixtus IV ordered about 1481 for the
+new chapel of the Vatican Palace.<a id='r43'></a><a href='#f43' class='c012'><sup>[43]</sup></a> He summoned to the
+Sistine Chapel the best available artists from both Tuscany
+and Umbria. By the measure of their success we may estimate
+the mural painting of the time.</p>
+
+<div id='f_112'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_112.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 112.</span> Piero della Francesca. Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, despot of Urbino.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Originally the decorative scheme, later amplified by Michelangelo,
+required sixteen scriptural stories, in which the deeds
+of Moses were parallelled by those of Christ. The two first
+and two last subjects, on the end walls, have been destroyed,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>but we still see the twelve on the side walls. In general they
+all show the old Gothic coloring, are mostly vivacious in a
+confused and over-rich way, and lack unity of pattern and
+dramatic coherence.</p>
+
+<div id='f_113'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_113.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 113.</span> Assistant of Perugino. Baptism. Fresco.—<em>Sistine Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>One of the most admired is the Baptism of Christ, Figure
+<a href='#f_113'>113</a>, by Pintorricchio, (or, as Venturi suggests, Andrea of
+Assisi) who here works as Perugino’s assistant. The story
+is told in the centre and reinforced by a spacious landscape
+which is confusingly full of attractive features. The theme
+is mechanically stretched to fill the space by adding at both
+flanks groups which have slight or no connection with the subject.
+These groups are interestingly diversified with fine
+portraits of the Pope’s relatives, the Roveres, and by the
+alert forms of children. The effect is fairly restful and idyllic,
+but the pattern is mechanical, and the emotional effect of the
+real theme is frittered away in the accessories. The method
+of enlarging a stock composition by adding portrait groups
+is standard for the Sistine Chapel and for the period. Masaccio
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>had tried it more effectively in the Miracle of the Boy, and
+Filippo Lippi had made it seem almost organic in The Funeral
+of St. Stephen. Pintorricchio, if it be he, is more superficially
+alluring for his richness and variety, but really stands
+on a far lower plane of design than his predecessors.</p>
+
+<div id='f_114'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_114.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 114.</span> Botticelli. Moses in the Land of Midian. Fresco.—<em>Sistine Chapel, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>If this mechanical symmetry is the standard method, there
+are significant exceptions in the Sistine Chapel. The more
+sensitive spirits, Botticelli and Luca Signorelli, reject so trite
+a solution. Botticelli’s Moses in Midian, Figure <a href='#f_114'>114</a>, offers
+a delicate evasion, by promoting a minor motive to be the
+central theme. All the incidents that are dramatically important—the
+slaying of the Egyptian taskmaster, and the
+adoration of the Burning Bush from which Jehovah spoke—are
+done with the most energetic feeling, but are relegated
+to the background and edges of the composition. The picture
+is really the fine grove in which Moses gallantly helps
+the nymph-like daughters of Jethro to draw water. A fantastic
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>idyl is foisted off on us as a substitute for one of the
+decisive moments in the Providential order. Botticelli is
+so winning in his evasion, that it seems almost unfeeling to
+note that no Gothic painter would have done anything so
+shifty. His success is not merely at the expense of the expression
+of his real theme, but also at the expense of the order
+and dignity proper to mural design. Having ordered a canto
+of an epic, the Pope received a delicious madrigal. His contentment
+is characteristic of the æsthetic casualness of the
+times.</p>
+
+<div id='f_115'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_115.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 115.</span> Signorelli, Design only. Last Days of Moses. Fresco.—<em>Sistine Chapel, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Signorelli, in the Last Days of Moses, Figure <a href='#f_115'>115</a>, makes a
+similar but less egregious evasion. His centre of interest is
+the nude youth in the foreground, but he does give a certain
+prominence to the scenes where Moses invests Joshua with
+authority, and where both view the Promised Land from
+Mount Horeb. Though without much emotional accent,
+the crowds are agreeably disposed and diversified by graceful
+forms of women and children. Only the design is by Signorelli,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>the execution being by an assistant, Don Bartolommeo
+della Gatta. The picture is more delightful for such passages
+as the Apollo-like nude youth and the mother with her children
+in the right foreground than it is as a whole, though it
+is full of idyllic charm, and inadequate only when one considers
+the gravity of its theme.</p>
+
+<div id='f_116'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_116.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 116.</span> Ghirlandaio. Christ calling Peter and Andrew. Fresco.—<em>Sistine Chapel, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In his Calling of Peter and Andrew, Figure <a href='#f_116'>116</a>, to be fishers
+of men, Domenico Ghirlandaio makes a skilful and impressive
+use of that approved mechanical symmetry which has
+already been noticed in Pintorricchio’s Baptism. Everything
+is well centralized, the river view is a welcome outlet,
+the stereotyped bystanders on the flanks at least are telling
+portraits and, while not bound into the central motive, have
+withal a gravity that sufficiently accords with it. The arrangement
+is lucid, and the surplus accessories fairly well
+subordinated. A rather perfunctory quality in the central
+scene of homage and dedication reveals Ghirlandaio’s scanty
+imagination. His impressiveness has a certain dullness about it.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>Few words need be spent on the picturesque and irresponsible
+confusion which reigns in Cosimo Rosselli’s Destruction
+of Pharaoh’s Army in the Red Sea, Figure <a href='#f_117'>117</a>. Cosimo was
+one of the older painters in the chapel, forty-two years old.
+Yet a juvenile sensationalism and uncalculated restlessness
+prevail, and his attempts at vivacity and grace are as unhappy
+as his striving for effects of terror. It may well be
+that his eccentric young pupil, Piero di Cosimo, gave this
+fresco its febrile energy and its theatrical landscape. Certain
+it is that the three other frescoes by Cosimo are unmitigatedly
+dull. Oddly it was he alone who won the praise of Pope Sixtus,
+mostly for his profuse introduction of gold ornament.</p>
+
+<div id='f_117'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_117.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 117.</span> Cosimo Rosselli. Destruction of Pharaoh’s Army. Fresco.—<em>Sistine Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_118'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>
+<img src='images/f_118.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 118.</span> Perugino. Christ giving the Keys to Peter. Fresco.—<em>Sistine Chapel, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We have seen in the Sistine Chapel a mechanical and rather
+perfunctory symmetry, various clever evasions of an idyllic
+sort, and a picturesque disorder side by side. The most ambitious
+decorative scheme of the time seems to result in a
+kind of artistic bankruptcy. But fortunately the Sistine
+Chapel contains its own self-criticism and remedy, in the
+extraordinary fresco by Pietro Perugino, Christ delivering
+the Keys to Peter, Figure <a href='#f_118'>118</a>. Perugino is an Umbrian from
+Città della Pieve, thirty-five years old, and with a certain
+amount of Florentine training. He has, like Masaccio sixty
+years before, looked at the art of his times and found it wanting.
+He has had the lucidity to see that the malady is surplusage
+and disorder. Hence, he argues, the remedy is simplicity
+and order. To this he adds a sense of vastness. In
+this picture the temple platform, a vastness made by man,
+is set within the vastness of a river valley made by nature.
+The foreground group is arranged in a formal half military
+order which is cunningly made easy and flexible by differences
+of posture and gesture. Every tilted head and pointed foot
+has its reason. Without undue insistence, all the apostles
+are interested in the rite which ordains their chief. Here is
+no casual pleasure ground in which you may delightfully look
+about, here is a definite vision of a momentous act which you
+must see swiftly, completely, and precisely as the artist intends
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>you shall see. It is the only well-considered design
+among these frescoes. It points the simplest and surest way
+by which the exuberance of the Early Renaissance might be
+disciplined into a noble order, and within twenty years the
+lesson was to be reread for all Italy by young Raphael of
+Urbino. Meanwhile the somewhat irresponsible exuberance
+of the new narrative painting has after all its winning aspect,
+is a sign of an energy and enthusiasm that need not so much
+to be tamed as to be intellectualized.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In discussing the last twenty years of the fifteenth century
+in Florence I am embarrassed by the richness of the
+field. Beside such typical figures as Botticelli and Ghirlandaio,
+we have to do with such sensitive and morbid spirits
+as Filippino Lippo and Piero di Cosimo; with Andrea Verrocchio
+and a group of imitators of his fastidious manner,
+notable among them young Leonardo da Vinci; with a host
+of secondary painters, particularly of furniture panels, and
+small altar-pieces, while if we consider rather artistic training
+than accident of birth, we must reckon with the Florentine
+achievement the rugged triumphs of Luca Signorelli.
+But since the more distinctive and progressive of these artists
+are really precursors of the Golden Age, or symptomatic
+of the unrest that was its prelude, they may best be treated
+later. That will leave us only the painters who are fully
+representative of the festal moment of Lorenzo the Magnificent’s
+greatness—the furniture painters and Ghirlandaio.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Those excesses of vivacity, those extravagances of invention,
+those juvenile graces which were a weakness in mural
+painting, were admirably in place in the decoration of chests
+and wainscots. The greater artists gladly accepted this
+little work, and some painters painted exclusively trousseau
+chests (<i><span lang="it">cassoni</span></i>)  for young brides—an enviable occupation,
+for surely these fair young creatures had to be personally
+consulted. The subjects glorify love, magnify valor, celebrate
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>the festal life of the day, its pageants, feasts, and dances.
+Of professional <i><span lang="it">cassoni</span></i> painters Francesco Pesellino<a id='r44'></a><a href='#f44' class='c012'><sup>[44]</sup></a> (1422–1457)
+is the most famous. He is bewitching in variety and
+sensitiveness of invention, in refinement of story telling,
+and in glamour of color. Two admirable <em>cassone</em> fronts by
+him are owned by Mrs. John L. Gardner, Figure <a href='#f_119'>119</a>. They
+represent the six triumphs described by Petrarch in so many
+<i><span lang="it">Canzoni</span></i>. Love, Chastity, Death, Time, Fame, and Eternity
+are figured forth much as these themes were embodied
+in contemporary pageants, about the year 1450. The subjects
+were favorites for <i><span lang="it">cassoni</span></i> less because of their grave moral
+import than because Petrarch was Love’s accredited Poet
+Laureate.</p>
+
+<div id='f_119'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_119.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 119.</span> Francesco Pesellino. Cassone Front. Triumphs of Love, Chastity, and Death.—<em>Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We have in the New York Historical Society the superb
+salver, Figure <a href='#f_119a'>119a</a>, which was prepared against the birth of
+Lorenzo de’ Medici. Appropriately it shows knights acclaiming
+fame. The date is 1448, the painter of the school of
+Domenico Veneziano.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>We often see the Queen of Sheba reverently approaching
+Solomon. It is the admonition that a young bride should
+seek wisdom. Battles and Roman triumphs are tediously
+common. They set a mark of valor for the bridegroom. Wedding
+Feasts are almost tautological on a bride-chest, but they
+afford charming pictures of the Florence that amused itself.</p>
+
+<div id='f_119a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>
+<img src='images/f_119a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 119</span><em>a.</em>> Follower of Domenico Veneziano, perhaps Baldovinetti. Triumph of Fame. Birth Salver for Lorenzo de’ Medici.—<em>N. Y. Historical Society.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Mythology often dignifies these painted stories, the reference being generally to that beauty which is institutional
+in brides. Thus we have in a <i><span lang="it">spalliera</span></i> panel in the Fogg
+Museum the Judgment of Paris, with the competing goddesses
+more modestly clothed than Ovid’s record justifies.
+The work is possibly an exceptionally amiable product of
+Cosimo Rosselli, and the date may be about 1475. The Rape of
+Helen, which was of course due to her fatal beauty, is a common
+if unedifying subject for bride-chests. So is Actæon torn by
+the hounds of the Divine Huntress for his temerity in surprising
+Diana at her bath. A delightful panel in the possession
+of Mr. Martin Ryerson at Chicago recounts in many
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>episodes the adventures of Ulysses from his escape from
+Polyphemus to his home-coming at Ithaca. The dalliances
+of the much-experienced wanderer are by no means concealed,
+but at least the scene opens with prominent display
+of the episode most creditable to him as a married man,
+the baffling of the Sirens, and closes with the exemplary figure
+of constant Penelope weaving her interminable web.</p>
+
+<div id='f_120'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_120.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 120.</span> Bartolommeo di Giovanni under Botticelli’s direction. Nastagio degli Onesti’s Feast. Spalliera panel.—<em>Spiridon Coll., Paris.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In furniture painting we are generally in the realm of
+comedy. But we touch pathos in Boccaccio’s story of patient
+Griselda, at Bergamo, Modena, and elsewhere; while we approach
+tragedy in the many versions of chaste Susanna assailed
+and traduced by the elders, and attain to notable melodrama
+in Boccaccio’s grim vision of the spirit lover eternally
+harrying the miserable ghost of his merciless lady through
+the pine wood of Ravenna. The best of these panels is
+in the Spiridon Collection, Paris. The ghostly scene of the
+chase takes place before the picnic party, Figure <a href='#f_120'>120</a>, artfully
+arranged by Nastagio degli Onesti to prove to his unfeeling
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>lady that there is a penalty in the next world for being too
+cruel to a lover in this. The lesson Boccaccio tells us was
+effective, and they lived happily together ever afterwards.
+The panel was designed by Botticelli and painted by his
+assistant, Bartolommeo di Giovanni, for the wedding of a Bini
+groom and a Pucci bride in the year 1487.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>With it we take leave of Florentine furniture painting,
+an art too unpretentious to be considered at length in a general
+survey, yet too charming in itself and too representative of the
+heyday of Florentine wealth and gayety to be wholly neglected.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sandro Botticelli and Domenico Ghirlandaio mark in very
+different fashions the culmination and the close of the Early
+Renaissance in Florence. Botticelli is the poet of its nostalgia.
+He expresses not its joyous average, but the erotic and mystical
+subtilities of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Platonic Academy,
+and later the Apocalyptic hopes and despairs that gathered
+around Savonarola. He utters a discontent and ideality
+which in part are completely contained in his work and in
+part were only fulfilled in the rapidly approaching Golden
+Age. He is aristocratic and individual, hence we shall consider
+him in connection with his fellow <i><span lang="fr">intellectuel</span></i>, Leonardo
+da Vinci. Domenico Ghirlandaio,<a id='r45'></a><a href='#f45' class='c012'><sup>[45]</sup></a> on the contrary, is the
+most completely contented creature, imaginable. He never
+even dreamt of anything desirable beyond his Florence. He
+loved the local spectacle too dearly to represent it literally.
+He generally prettified it, more rarely he glorified it. Its
+mundane ideals were his. Towards its people, its young men
+and maidens and grave merchants and magistrates he brought,
+without Fra Filippo Lippi’s sensitiveness, an equal curiosity
+and admiration. And Florence fairly deserved the adoration
+of such a man as was he. Wisely and generously ruled by
+Lorenzo de’ Medici, who exemplified not merely the practical
+virtues of the city but also her more engaging vices, author
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>of wise policy and of wittily dissolute songs; combining the
+self-respecting appearances of liberty with the advantages
+of benevolent despotism, abounding in new wealth, lavish
+in pleasure and spectacle, unrestrained
+by a religion which was
+becoming merely a social decency
+and a form of fire-insurance
+against a not impossible hell—Florence
+had reached a pitch of
+complacency and worldly well-being
+the like of which the world
+has perhaps never seen before or
+since. The menacing sword of
+the spirit was already swaying
+over it in the eloquence of a
+young Dominican monk at Ferrara.
+But Florence trod the
+primrose path unconscious of
+the doom at hand for her. And Ghirlandaio was present to
+immortalize everything that was pleasant in her short prime.</p>
+
+<div id='f_121'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_121.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 121.</span> Domenico Ghirlandaio. St. Jerome. Fresco.—<em>Ognissanti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>He was born in 1449, his father appropriately being a garland-maker
+for gay Florence. He was trained under Alesso
+Baldovinetti, but prudently declined to compromise his own
+bright coloring with the new technic of oil painting. He
+studied with profit the ornate narratives of Benozzo Gozzoli.
+One of his earliest frescoes, painted about 1470 in Ognissanti,
+already reveals the grounds of his later popularity. The
+vivid portraits of the Vespucci family so crowd about a Madonna
+of Pity as to make her seem quite secondary.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Somewhat later he painted the legend of Santa Fina at
+San Gimignano. Here Gozzoli’s simpler vein is imitated,
+and the effect has a rusticity befitting the theme. Soon
+the <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> at Florence flourished mightily. There were
+two younger brothers to help, and all commissions were executed
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>with businesslike dispatch. About 1480 we find him
+once more painting for the Church of Ognissanti. His St.
+Jerome there, Figure <a href='#f_121'>121</a>, is a beautifully groomed old prelate
+in a wonderfully kept study. The Saint is caught in an
+interval of work, searching perhaps for the right Latin word
+to render the Hebrew text before him. He is grave and not
+too stern. The colors are vivid without much regard for harmony.
+Very little of the fire of the missionary who declined
+to subject the mysteries of God to the rules of the grammarian
+Donatus is suggested. One has only to look at Botticelli’s
+St. Augustine, opposite in the church, agonized by the burden
+of thought, to realize that Ghirlandaio has cared nothing for
+the psychology of his theme, but has given us any comfortable
+old Florentine scholar placidly occupied in his <i><span lang="la">scriptorium</span></i>.</p>
+
+<div id='f_122'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_122.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 122.</span> Ghirlandaio. The Last Supper. Fresco.—<em>Refectory, Ognissanti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A similar lack of emotional content mars the otherwise
+delightful Last Supper, Figure <a href='#f_122'>122</a>, which was painted that
+same year for the refectory of Ognissanti. Pathos, not to
+say tragedy, is carefully kept out of the most solemn of scenes.
+The eye is likely to go first to the tree-tops and flying birds
+seen above the screen, then it becomes vaguely aware of a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>gentle company quietly feasting. Except for a faint trace of
+classicism in the costumes, it could be any governing board
+of any religious confraternity of the day, decorously enjoying
+its annual dinner. The qualities and defects of Ghirlandaio
+are fully apparent in this fresco—his lucidity and
+sweetness, his emotional nullity.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The next year, 1481, Ghirlandaio painted in the Sistine
+Chapel at Rome Christ Calling Peter and Andrew. We
+have already considered this his nearest approach to monumental
+design. Shortly before the Roman trip he married,
+and when his wife Costanza died, after a decent interval,
+he repeated the adventure. The two wedlocks were blessed
+by nine children of whom one, Ridolfo, was to become in turn
+a notable painter. Such fecundity was worthy of the man
+who once sighed for a commission to fresco the seven-mile
+circuit of the walls of Florence. On his return from Rome
+Ghirlandaio decorated the great hall of the Palace of the Priors,
+and from now on merely a list of his commissions and patrons
+would be a blue book of the old aristocracy and new wealth
+of Florence.</p>
+
+<div id='f_123'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>
+<img src='images/f_123.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 123.</span> Domenico Ghirlandaio. Miracle of the Spini Boy. Fresco.—<em>Trinità.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Thus in 1485 he contracted with Francesco Sassetti to do
+a chapel in the Trinità with Stories of St. Francis. Sassetti
+was confidential treasurer for Lorenzo the Magnificent, about
+the most important financial position in the world at the
+moment; a selfmade and ambitious man. He had tried in
+vain to get a finer chapel in a bigger church, but the patrician
+vested interests prevented. Still the chapel to the right of
+the Choir of the Trinità was no mean place, this Vallombrosan
+foundation being one of the oldest in Florence. Ghirlandaio
+took special pains with the frescoes, studying with intelligence
+Giotto’s famous versions of the stories at Santa Croce.
+He is most nearly monumental where he follows Giotto, as
+in the Death of St. Francis, but he also shows surprising felicities
+of his own. The scene where Pope Honorius III constitutes St. Francis and his fellows a monastic order, is
+remarkable for not only fine incidental portraiture, but
+for a nobility of space composition faintly anticipating
+Raphael. One scarcely realizes the subject as such. All the
+dramatic features with which Giotto emphasized the eagerness
+of the saint, the humility of his companions, the professional
+dignity of the Pope and the half-veiled hostility of the
+papal court are absent. One’s eyes go over the group to the
+familiar grandiose prospect of the Piazza della Signoria at
+Florence, and one feels that never till now has he rightly apprehended
+its amplitude and splendor. Then there are sharp
+pleasant surprises. At the left is the ugly and fascinating
+figure of Lorenzo de’ Medici and behind him the gross
+apparition of Francesco Sassetti himself. And in front there
+are people coming up from a lower level, only their heads and
+shoulders emerging. The swarthy man who leads is Angelo
+Poliziano, greatest of humanistic poets, tutor of Lorenzo’s
+sons. And the boys are these gifted children destined to be
+popes, and granddukes. The combination of great spaciousness
+and centrality with casual unexpected graces is so piquant
+and original, that I suppose Ghirlandaio may have hit upon it
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>almost accidentally, owing to the inevitable relations of his
+Gothic lunette to the architectural forms in the fresco. In
+any case Ghirlandaio never again did anything as impressive.
+It is his greatest hymn of praise
+to the Florence that he so dearly
+loved.</p>
+
+<div id='f_124'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_124.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 124.</span> Domenico Ghirlandaio. Adoration of the Magi.—<em>Innocenti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the same chapel is a remarkable
+picture representing
+the Piazza of the Trinità with
+St. Francis resuscitating a boy
+of the Spini family, Figure <a href='#f_123'>123</a>.
+It has extraordinary bits of invention,
+but lacks the organization
+of the fresco just discussed.
+The altar-piece for the chapel,
+an Adoration of the Shepherds,
+now in the Uffizi, represents the
+graciousness of Ghirlandaio in
+familiar narrative his willing acceptance of the panoramic
+richness of the age, and his exceptional power of portraiture
+in these rustics painted from himself and from members of
+the Sassetti family. The ruggedness of the characterization
+suggests Flemish painting. Ghirlandaio may well have been
+influenced by the great Nativity with Portraits which Hugo
+van der Goes sent down from Ghent, in 1476, to the Hospital
+Church of Santa Maria Nuova.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Ghirlandaio’s altar-pieces are many. They are brilliant
+without real harmony of color; pretty, without much insight, in
+the types of the Virgin and youthful saints. The most
+elaborate of these panels, An Adoration of the Magi, Figure
+<a href='#f_124'>124</a>, was finished in 1488 for the Foundling Hospital dedicated
+to the Massacred Innocents of Bethlehem. It still stands on
+its original altar in the chapel of the Innocenti, and is a radiant
+thing. The crowded group of adorers in the foreground is well
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>knit together. Ghirlandaio had taken a shrewd look at Botticelli’s
+Epiphany (now at Petrograd), or at Leonardo da Vinci’s
+unfinished masterpiece. By a touching and appropriate invention,
+Ghirlandaio has set two of the martyred Innocents kneeling
+in white robes and crowned with a saint’s nimbus among
+the Wise Men. There are, as usual, many portraits, including
+Ghirlandaio’s own, by the pillar at the right. The deep river
+valley, suggested by northern paintings or engravings, relieves
+the somewhat congested character of the figure arrangement.
+The girlish Madonna would do no discredit to the front cover
+of a nation-wide periodical today. So gracious and ingenious
+is this picture that one regrets to note that it is rather cleverly
+staged than deeply felt, its manifold prettiness and picturesqueness,
+of a quite obvious character.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>As Ghirlandaio had moved from success to success, so he
+was destined to end in his day of highest glory. In 1485 he
+signed a contract with Giovanni Tornabuoni, of the old nobility,
+to decorate the choir of the most aristocratic church in
+Florence, Santa Maria Novella. The subjects, the Life of the
+Virgin and St. John the Baptist, were already on the wall in
+the guise of water-soaked and ruined frescoes by Andrea
+Orcagna. Ghirlandaio provided pastoral scenes with wide
+landscapes, city prospects with charming girls plentiful in
+foreground, rich patrician interiors with graceful women and
+their attendants making visits of ceremony, rare religious
+events with heavy magistrates and dignitaries standing inattentively
+by—everything in short that a prosperous and
+well-bred Florentine of the moment was accustomed to think
+desirable in beauty, gentleness, or worldly estate. Characteristic
+are the Salutation of Mary and Elizabeth, a picture
+in which the solemnity of the scene, so magnificently asserted
+by Giotto at Padua, slips away into mere spectacle and civility;
+the Birth of Saint John, Figure <a href='#f_125'>125</a>, with a young girl
+of the Tornabuoni family making her visit with her maids,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>and all manner of graceful and rich accessories; or again, the
+Presentation in The Temple, with a whole tribe of Tornabuonis
+and Ghirlandaios in negligent attendance on the sacred
+rite. These may stand for the whole. For their casual and
+mundane richness John Ruskin has poured upon these frescoes
+his double-distilled vials of wrath. What he says as to
+their superficiality and emptiness of religious feeling is true
+enough, yet his denunciatory rhetoric serves but as a trip-hammer
+to demolish an eggshell which has after all its iridescent
+frail beauty. Gentler methods are better with so
+gently mundane a creature as Ghirlandaio. The Lord’s
+people, as he saw them about him, were good enough for him
+and for his art. Criticism should rather insist that, being
+worldly, he was not worldly enough to be strong and lucid,
+but too readily had recourse to promiscuous richness and perfunctory
+ideals of prettiness. Still, it does not befit the age
+or race whose characteristic art product is the smiling or
+pensive girl on the cover of the popular magazine to throw
+the first stone at Domenico Ghirlandaio.</p>
+
+<div id='f_125'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_125.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 125.</span> Domenico Ghirlandaio. Birth of St. John.—<em>Santa Maria Novella.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_126'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>
+<img src='images/f_126.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 126.</span> Domenico Ghirlandaio. Old Man and Boy.—<em>Paris.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Whatever the verdict as to
+his nominally religious painting,
+in portraiture Ghirlandaio
+is one of the greatest
+figures of his time. Portraits
+of the finest qualities abound
+in his frescoes, and he has left
+a few incomparable things on
+panel. Few Renaissance portraits
+have the authority of
+the amazing old man, Figure
+<a href='#f_126'>126</a>, in the Louvre, who
+fondles an adoring boy. In
+this picture, deformity becomes
+a grace, and the spiritual
+and material interpretation
+are of equal incisiveness
+and beauty. As fine in another vein is the profile of Giovanna
+degli Albizzi in the J. P. Morgan Collection, Figure <a href='#f_101'>101</a>. It
+is dated in 1488. It is the supreme portrait of a Florentine
+beauty of a passing and lovely moment. An instant of time,
+when the old simplicity had enriched itself with new learning;
+when with the new humanism the tournament and court of
+love persisted; when courtly manners had become an ideal
+without freezing into an official code—all this is for a sensitive
+and informed observer in this placid well-poised head of
+an ill-starred Florentine bride. She died in 1488, a little before
+the overthrow of the Florence she typifies. Her accomplished
+young husband, Lorenzo Tornabuoni, equally adequate
+in the tilt yard, the study, or the council hall, lived on
+for nine years and shared the death agony of the society of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>which he was a chief ornament. When his head fell under
+Savonarola’s orders, a splendid chapter of early Florentine
+humanism closed. Thus these young people died with their
+Florence, leaving no descendants, but a memory eternally
+fragrant.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The year of Giovanna’s death, 1488, Ghirlandaio, being
+thirty-nine years old, took a new wife, and continued diligently
+at the frescoes of Santa Maria Novella. Not being
+overburdened with imagination, he probably never guessed he
+was occupied with a memorial of a society already doomed.
+Doubtless he followed the fashionable throng to San Marco
+where for a year Fra Girolamo Savonarola had been preaching
+against the current vanities. Ghirlandaio presumably approved
+the oratory, with a comfortable sense that while unworldliness
+might very properly be preached, no sensible
+city could ever be induced to practice it. Perhaps he never
+woke up to the appalling fact that Savonarola literally meant
+business both evangelically and politically.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>So Ghirlandaio’s Florence moved swiftly to its doom, and
+the while he saved much of its look and grace on the walls
+of his choir. For a year a touchy and ugly little boy
+who carried the disproportionately great name of Michelangelo
+Buonarotti scrambled discontentedly about the scaffolding
+of the choir, lending a hand here and there, and learning
+the old art of fresco painting. Ghirlandaio of course never
+knew that in the restless apprentice he was training a titan.
+He probably thought him a nuisance. By the end of 1493 the
+frescoes of the Virgin and St. John the patron of Florence were
+nearly finished, and the altar-piece, an Assumption, was already
+planned. At forty-four Ghirlandaio had at once reached
+his climax and painted himself down an anachronism. Of
+course he didn’t know it; such self-knowledge is mercifully
+spared us. The luck of Ghirlandaio was extraordinarily constant.
+Nowhere is it more signally shown than in the date of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>his death. Some inkling that things were going ill under
+Piero de’ Medici’s fitful rule must have come to him, but he
+died in January 1494, a good ten months before the Medici
+were expelled, their palaces sacked, and Savonarola in charge
+of a Florence terrified into sobriety.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>To those painters from Fra Filippo to Ghirlandaio who
+caught the look and unpretentious poetry of Medicean Florence
+we owe an especial gratitude. They are not in the direct
+line of progress and they none of them reached the heights
+of art. But for centuries they have never failed to give delightful
+information, while infallibly touching average human
+sympathies. We do ill to idolize them, for they were after
+all rather small men, but we do well also to honor them according
+to their accomplishment. They did their particular
+task of enlivening decoration with illustrative episodes, with
+tact, refinement and knowledge; with all the sympathy of
+the modestly observant eye. Most of their work had to be
+undone before the Grand Style was possible, but it all evinces
+the vitality and variety without which as preliminary training
+the Grand Style itself could hardly have attained its
+elaborate and strictly ordered composure. We do well to take
+Vasari’s general view of these artists of the human spectacle—not
+considering them so much as weak links in a mighty
+chain, but as complete in themselves, as a youth may be complete
+even though the young man dies in the glory of his unfolding.
+Why expect prematurely the sedate splendors of
+middle age? Take then this art for what it offers—an unsystematic
+fairy land which is yet half real, and keep your
+higher standards in reserve for artists who better deserve them.
+For austere standards are held by a truly civilized person for
+purposes of discriminate praise and not as a ready means of
+promiscuous blame.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER I</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Pageantry in Old Florence</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>The art of Gozzoli and the <em>cassone</em> painters, and, in part, that of
+Filippo Lippi and Ghirlandaio implies the background of public pageantry
+at Florence. There is a precious piece of old doggerel which
+describes the festivities, in May 1459, for the reception of Pope Pius II
+and Gian Galeazzo Sforza, Duke of Milan. The palaces and churches
+were completely hung with rich stuffs, the sumptuary laws were suspended
+in favor of the fair sex; besides many processions and feasts,
+there was bear baiting in the Piazza della Signoria, an all night open-air ball in the Mercato Nuovo, and a tournament in the Piazza di Santa
+Croce. I paraphrase the verses which describe the pageant of a Triumph
+of Love which was conducted by ten year old Lorenzo de’ Medici.
+The subject is common in <i><span lang="it">cassoni</span></i> and <i><span lang="it">deschi da parto</span></i>. The boy Lorenzo
+mounted on a marvellously caparisoned horse headed the pageant,
+and while all the people whispered their admiration—</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“As prudent and wise lad he conducted the Triumph of the God of
+Love.... In all triumph he made Cupid come, who so gently smites
+the gentle heart. Upon a car I saw him, and so I tell, most marvellously
+adorned and wrought, how it was made I dare not say. On four wheels
+it was finely adorned with a raised stand and fixed on every corner
+thereof as a column the form and fashion of an angel. And I who saw
+it thought of a castle. Upon the four columns was a great ball and above
+it another ornamented piece. This was gilded everywhere&#160;...
+so that it sparkled like the sun. I cannot tell of such beauties, but
+I can tell about the top part which was most delightful. Above all&#160;...
+I saw stand a youth, with two great wings of many colors on his shoulders
+and all the rest nude, holding that bow with which he wounds all hearts,
+and playfully puts venom therein, so that while burning within, nothing
+shows without. This Triumph so marvellous and so invested with
+colors, its adornment very glorious—with so many pearls, carbuncles
+and sapphires—I couldn’t reckon how many florins that Triumph was
+worth I say.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>The whole poem is a real treasure of such lore and should be translated.
+It is found in the new edition of Muratori, <cite>Rerum Italicarum Scriptores</cite>,
+Tom. XXVII. The quotation is from page 31, lines 1330–1363.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>The Procession of the Magi</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c018'>On St. John’s Day, 1354, Matteo Palmieri tells us in his <cite>Annals</cite>,
+there were many religious representations of which the most interesting
+to us, as a probable inspirer of Gozzoli’s frescoes, is that of the
+Three Kings from the East. There was—</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“A magnificent and triumphant temple for the habitation [stage
+setting] of the Magi, in which was inclosed an octagonal temple adorned
+with the seven Virtues, and on the east side the Virgin with the New
+Born Christ. [Probably figures in a tableau vivant]</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“The three Magi with a cavalcade of more than 200 horse adorned
+with many splendors came to make offerings to the New Born Christ.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>New ed. of Muratori, Tom. XXII, p. 173.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Probably all the artists mentioned in this chapter saw these two
+splendid pageants and many more. Such sights count for much
+in the alert and profusely ornamented painting of the fifteenth
+century.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Pageants in 1466</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Piero de’ Medici “in order to give men something to think about
+which should take their thoughts from the state, and a year having
+passed since Cosimo had died, seized the occasion to enliven the city
+and ordered two elaborate celebrations, following the others that are
+customary in that city. One which represented, when the three Kings,
+the Magi, came from the East behind the star which showed the birth
+of Christ; the which was of such pomp and so magnificent, that in
+arranging and holding it the entire city was occupied for several months.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Machiavelli, <cite>Istorie fiorentine</cite>, Lib. VII, cap. xii.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“The other [festival, Machiavelli continues] was a tournament (for
+so they used to call a spectacle, which represented a cavalry skirmish)
+where the first youths of the city exercised themselves against the most
+famous knights of Italy; and among the young men of Florence the
+most in repute was Lorenzo, first-born son of Piero, who not by favor,
+but by his own valor carried off the first honours.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Lorenzo was then a likely lad of seventeen.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>A Side-light on Ghirlandaio’s Patrons</span></h4>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c004'>
+    <div><em>A Trick for getting a Family Chapel in 1488</em></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c019'>The choir of Santa Maria Novella was under the patronage of the Ricci
+family, but they were poor and had been unable to repair the waterstained
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>frescoes of Orcagna, which had been painted a century and a
+quarter earlier. So Giovanni Tornabuoni got permission to redecorate
+the chapel on condition of setting the Ricci arms “in the most conspicuous
+and honourable place in that chapel.” And so the contract
+was drawn. Domenico Ghirlandaio actually set the Tornabuoni arms
+in huge scale on the side pilasters, whereas he painted the Ricci arms
+half a foot high on the door of the ciborium in the centre of the base
+of his altar-piece. The rest in Vasari’s words (de Vere’s translation,
+Vol. III, p. 224):</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“And a fine jest it was at the opening of the chapel, for these Ricci
+looked for their arms with much ado, and finally, not being able to find
+them, went off to the Tribunal of Eight, contract in hand. Whereupon
+the Tornabuoni showed that these arms had been placed in the most
+conspicuous and honourable part of the work; and although the others
+exclaimed that they were invisible, they were told that they were in
+the wrong, and that they must be content, since the Tornabuoni had
+caused them to be placed in so honourable a position as the neighborhood
+of the most Holy Sacrament. And so it was decided by that tribunal
+that they should be left untouched, as they may be seen today.
+Now, if this should appear to anyone to be outside the scope of the Life
+that I have to write, let him not be vexed, for it all flowed naturally
+from the tip of my pen. And it should serve, if for nothing else, at least
+to show how easily poverty falls a prey to riches, and how riches, if
+accompanied by discretion, achieve without censure anything that a
+man desires.”</p>
+
+<div id='f_127'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>
+<img src='images/f_127.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 127.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Cartoon of Madonna and St. Ann.—<em>Burlington House, London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter V</span></span><br> DAWN OF THE GOLDEN AGE: BOTTICELLI AND LEONARDO DA VINCI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Leonardo da Vinci as assimilator of the Realistic reforms—Botticelli as
+reactionary—His beginnings under Fra Filippo and Pollaiuolo—Height
+of his realistic achievement in Adoration of the Magi—Assertion of his
+fantastic vein in the Primavera—The Dante drawings and the distraught
+style of the later works, its æsthetic value—Minor Eccentrics:
+Filippino Lippi—Piero di Cosimo—Leonardo da Vinci, his gradual
+advance towards Chiaroscuro method, his ideals—His work with Verrocchio—The
+Adoration of the Kings, its disciplined richness—Cartoon
+of St. Ann—First Madonna of the Rocks—Leonardo at Milan. The
+Last Supper—At Florence again. The Battle Cartoon. Mona Lisa—Second
+Sojourn at Milan. The St. Ann, his influence—At Rome, in
+France and the end—Leonardo’s successors at Florence; Fra Bartolommeo—
+Andrea del Sarto—Agnolo Bronzino—Pontormo—Decline of
+Florentine independence and of the School.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The task before an ambitious young Florentine artist about
+1475 was one of assimilation. Pretty much all the knowledge
+essential for the new painting existed, but in scattered shape.
+Masaccio had modernized Giotto’s monumental patterns, and
+had found for himself the new structural values of light and
+shade. Domenico Veneziano had introduced the handier
+method of oil painting, and, with Piero della Francesca, had
+attempted novel refinements in paler tonalities. He and
+Paolo Uccello had worked out the mysteries of linear perspective.
+Andrea del Castagno had achieved a systematic
+and learned anatomy. Antonio Pollaiuolo had added to this
+an extraordinary knowledge of the human body in violent action.
+Andrea Verrocchio had demonstrated that these realistic
+strivings were compatible with grace. It had occurred to
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>no one to combine all these discoveries until Leonardo da
+Vinci reached his early maturity. The synthesis worked out
+by him between 1480 and 1498, the dates of his unfinished
+Adoration of the Kings and Last Supper respectively, is the
+foundation on which Raphael built. Leonardo da Vinci is
+the pioneer of the Golden Age.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It will help us to realize the greatness of his accomplishment
+to study first the career of a contemporary and friend,
+the exquisite artist, Sandro Botticelli. Botticelli, like Leonardo,
+came under the spell of Verrocchio’s fastidiousness, and
+went some distance in the direction of the new monumental
+beauty. Then abruptly he turned aside along solitary lines
+quite unprecedented, but akin to the mystic past of Siena.
+His great refusal of progress, his broken and eccentric career,
+give point to the humanistic centrality and social authority
+of Leonardo’s painting. The two men represent opposite
+escapes from the superficial brilliance of the art dominated
+by Ghirlandaio. Leonardo moved out towards the future,
+and has lived on as a fine inspiration of academic painting
+ever since. Botticelli withdrew into himself, and has survived
+flickeringly in the occasional admiration of kindred spirits.
+Both express, if in very different fashion, the profound discontent
+that preluded a new era of art. It will help us to perceive
+how great Botticelli is in his solitary poetry, to consider
+two younger contemporaries, Filippino Lippi, his pupil, and
+Piero di Cosimo, an intelligent imitator of Leonardo, both
+of whom, sharing Botticelli’s discontent, also sought escape
+in self-assertiveness of an eccentric sort. As the modern age
+begins to dawn, the modern temperamental artist appears.
+The <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> begins to be a studio. Thus Sandro Botticelli<a id='r46'></a><a href='#f46' class='c012'><sup>[46]</sup></a>
+has a double importance for us—as an exquisite artist, and
+even more as the first individualist who strained sorely at
+the bounds imposed by the collective taste, required a select
+public, and painted to please himself.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>There is nothing of this romantic isolation in his origins.
+He was born a tanner’s son, in 1444, and brought up in the
+smiling country towards Careggi. At thirteen he was still at
+school, hence was better educated than the average painter.
+Soon he was put with a goldsmith, very likely his brother
+Antonio, whose nickname—Il Botticello, the cask, paradoxically
+attached itself to the creator of the Primavera.
+Before his fifteenth year, 1459, young Botticelli was apprenticed
+to Fra Filippo Lippi, the most sensitive eye of the time.
+Young Botticelli presumably painted on the later frescoes at
+Prato, and I believe may have been permitted to design certain
+of the figures in The Feast of Herod. Two early pictures
+of the Adoration of the Kings, both in the National Gallery,
+London, show us how whole-heartedly Botticelli adopted his
+master’s discursive style, how sedulously he sought variety
+and richness of gesture and facial expression. But these
+crowded compositions lack Fra Filippo’s direct geniality.
+They are already imagined before they are observed. Fra
+Filippo went to Spoleto some time before 1468 and soon died
+there. So Botticelli was perhaps on his own resources from his
+twenty-fourth year, though he was not inscribed in the Company
+of St. Luke till 1472. What is certain is that he was
+fortifying himself by imitation of far more strenuous artists
+than his master. The delicate incisiveness of Verrocchio appears
+as an occasional inspiration, the rugged power of Antonio
+Pollaiuolo dominates his pictorial expression for many
+years.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A group of early pictures shows strikingly the interplay
+of realistic influences with the assertion of his own originality.
+The delicately expressive Madonna, Figure <a href='#f_128'>128</a>, in Mrs. John
+L. Gardner’s collection, is based on Filippo Lippi’s Madonna
+in the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_103'>103</a>. The general arrangement is the
+same. But what a change in feeling! All the overt picturesque
+relations which Fra Filippo loved—the girlish Virgin
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>praying to her child, the chubby baby clutching at its mother,
+the impish angel grinning out of the picture—all that is
+eliminated. The Virgin wistfully reaches for the ear of wheat
+signifying her Son’s body that must be broken. A well-grown,
+reverent angel, enigmatically smiling, offers the grapes and
+wheat, symbols of the sacrament. The relation is between
+the Madonna and this mysterious acolyte. Their consciousness
+of a prophetic rite gains emphasis and pathos from the
+only unconscious thing in the picture, the graceful babyish
+action of the Divine Child. The forms of mother and Child
+are those of Filippo Lippi, but with elimination of superfluous
+ornament and commonplace action. The reserved, half-concealed
+smile of the angel and his strange beauty derive
+from Andrea Verrocchio. You may trace it from his youthful
+David to his disciple’s Mona Lisa. The date of the picture
+is merely a good guess, but since it is free from the influence
+of Pollaiuolo, it may be before 1469.</p>
+
+<div id='f_128'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_128.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 128.</span> Botticelli. Chigi Madonna.—<em>Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_130'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_130.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 130.</span> Botticelli. Judith.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In that year the brothers Pollaiuolo undertook the painting
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>of seven figures of the Virtues to decorate the wainscot behind
+the magistrates’ bench in the Mercanzia, the mercantile court.
+Evidently they were pressed for
+time, for they assigned one
+panel representing Fortitude,
+Figure <a href='#f_129'>129</a>, to Botticelli. John
+Ruskin has celebrated in eloquent
+phrase this frail embodiment
+of the courage of the
+mind. “Worn, somewhat, and
+not a little weary; instead of
+standing ready for all comers,
+she is sitting—apparently in
+revery; her fingers playing restlessly
+and idly—nay, I think,
+even nervously about the hilt
+of her sword. For her battle is
+not to begin today, nor did it
+begin yesterday. Many a morn
+and even have passed since it
+began, and now—is this to be
+the ending of it? And if this—by
+what manner of end?”</p>
+
+<div id='f_129'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_129.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 129.</span> Botticelli. Fortitude.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The passage beautifully illustrates the odd blend of purest
+insight and casual chatter in Ruskin’s criticism. Forget that
+the sword is a mace—Ruskin is never right in such trifles.
+Fortitude sits merely because her sister Virtues do so in the
+imposed decorative scheme. The nervous action of the hands is
+chiefly an elegance. Yet the whole characterization expresses
+with singular felicity the alert and thoughtful charm of this
+Fortitude amid the stolid effigies of Antonio and Piero Pollaiuolo.
+Ruskin, as often, is most wrong where it least matters.
+We have more prosaic business with the Fortitude—to note
+the pouting snub-nosed type, and the elaborate ornaments,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>which are Fra Filippo’s, the solidly drawn but ill-shapen foot,
+which is Pollaiuolo’s, and the sensitiveness, which is Botticelli’s
+own.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A still more complete assimilation of Pollaiuolo’s energetic
+mode is revealed in the admirable little Judith, Figure <a href='#f_130'>130</a>,
+which must have been painted towards 1475. The faces are
+still Fra Filippo’s, and he could have invented the eager doglike
+obsequiousness of the maid. But the springy action and
+the fine, lean ankles and feet, the bony, expressive wrists and
+hands, the minutely featured landscape, are completely in
+Pollaiuolo’s vein. Botticelli’s specific invention is the sublimation
+of the theme—Judith’s sense of walking in a dream after
+the unspeakable ordeal of the night. And the flutter of the
+robes in the clean morning wind has a stylistic grace that
+amounts to Sandro’s signature.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>As he came into his thirty-fifth year, 1478, Botticelli painted
+two pictures so different that without conclusive evidence
+we should hardly believe them the work of a single mind and
+hand. The Adoration of the Kings, Figure <a href='#f_131'>131</a>, with the
+sturdy Medici portraits, sums up all Botticelli’s realistic
+achievement, shows him the greatest and most typical Florentine
+master of the moment, and proves that his way was easy
+to such triumphs of popularity as Ghirlandaio was soon to
+enjoy uncontested. The other picture, The Allegory of Spring,
+evinces a strange and to many repellant  originality, indulges
+dreams not of this earth, appeals to experiences inaccessible
+save to the æsthetically elect. It was an earnest of neglect
+and unpopularity, the opening of a solitary road that no
+artist would travel save under inner imperious impulsion.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Adoration of the Kings is composed after the fashion
+of Fra Filippo and rendered with all the improvements of Pollaiuolo.
+The group of the Mother, Child and Joseph is set
+high and well back, the minutely drawn ruin, with its grace of
+wall-flowers, and the peacock on the ruined edge of the masonry
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>are again pure Fra Filippo, as are the juvenile charm of Our
+Lady and the alertness of the Bambino. In Fra Filippo’s
+best style, too, are the flanking groups of portraits which swing
+back towards the central motive, leaving the centre free.
+Here are great personnages set forth with dignity and force.
+Masaccio also has counted for much in these portraits, and
+Antonio Pollaiuolo for more. The Mage kneeling by the Child
+is Piero de’ Medici, the one in front with his back turned is
+Cosimo. The beautiful young king addressing him is probably
+Giuliano, lately slain by the Pazzi conspirators. Lorenzo
+is unmistakable at the left with his proud military pose, his
+hands resting on a great sword. At the right, robed in yellow,
+is the fine manly figure of Botticelli himself. There are many
+other portraits of the most authoritative accent, but we have
+no means of identifying them.</p>
+
+<div id='f_131'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_131.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 131.</span> Botticelli. Adoration of the Magi.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>Artistically this magnificent little picture suffers from two
+centres of interest. It is an ambiguity, however, that would
+have troubled no contemporary Florentine. He was willing
+to take the sacred group for granted and to gaze delightedly
+at the figures of his rulers and benefactors. In technical
+expression the picture is established through light, shade,
+and color, its linear quality counting for rather little in the
+effect. It is a logical and attractive combination of all the
+realistic experiments of fifty years past, no single feature being
+over-emphasized. It is prose of a most convincing and eloquent
+cadence.</p>
+
+<div id='f_132'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_132.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 132.</span> Botticelli. Primavera—Allegory of Spring.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Before turning to a picture which is all poetry, the Primavera,
+we may profitably consider Botticelli’s portrait, the
+robust body, the moody sensual face. He was a celibate.
+One need not espouse the vagaries of a Freud to know that
+such men, when gifted with imagination, dream strange dreams.
+The Primavera, Figure <a href='#f_132'>132</a>, was painted for the Medici Villa
+of Castello, where later Botticelli placed his Birth of Venus
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>and Signorelli his Pan as God of Music. All these pictures represent
+that sudden homesickness for the idyllic scenes of
+classical antiquity which fell upon the Italian world about
+this time. The <em>cassone</em> painters, working for work-a-day
+people, had represented the mythologies as so many jolly
+stories. For the deeply cultured circle of the Medici, these
+retrospections were fraught with sadness. The life where the
+gods moved among alluring nymphs and amusing fauns seemed
+infinitely far off and infinitely desirable. Through Horace and
+Virgil and Theocritus one could glimpse it tantalizingly.
+Modern poets, like Angelo Poliziano, could recover it faintly
+in Greek and Latin, or more rarely in Italian verse. But the
+Italian loves to see, and here was the difficulty. The brown
+soil had not yet yielded up the great store of old marbles. The
+actual look of the bygone Golden Age, which within half a
+century was to become matter of archæological certainty, was
+now matter of hesitant intuition. One could brood over the
+old poets, arrange masques in which lightly robed Tuscan girls
+played the nymph or goddess—whatever expedient was used
+to live oneself back, the visual ingredients of the dream were
+inevitably local and Tuscan. Such pictures as the Primavera
+represent this transient and appealing mood. They tremble
+with unfulfilled aspirations, breathe exquisite nostalgias,
+perpetuate as no other records do the very soul of the humanists
+that surrounded Lorenzo the Magnificent.</p>
+
+<div id='f_133'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>
+<img src='images/f_133.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 133.</span> Botticelli. Primavera. Detail. Venus, Flora, Spring, Zephyr.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For the fundamental decorative arrangement of the picture,
+white forms swaying before a vertical paling, Botticelli
+skilfully borrowed the motive of Pollaiuolo’s engraving,
+the Ten Nudes. Figure <a href='#f_109'>109</a>. From Pollaiuolo, too, come the
+nervous contours, the wiry ankles, and slender feet, and the
+curiously sprung knees. The old poets Lucretius and Horace
+give just the hint for the persons of the idyl. Lucretius
+tells of the coming of Spring blown in by the West wind, of
+Flora strewing flowers before, Figure <a href='#f_133'>133</a>, with Venus and her
+son as witnesses. And Horace tells how the three graces with
+ungirt robes dance before Mercury. But Botticelli has contributed
+what gives the work its penetrating, sad charm. His is the
+gloomy screen of orange trees and olives, the carpet of spring
+flowers, the billowing lines that sweep across the panel. It
+is conceived in two great rhythms of motion. The wave that
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>is suave in playful Spring becomes crisp and sharp in the robe
+of Flora, and is nearly arrested in the heavy drapery of Venus,
+it passes with her raised hand to the shimmering veil of the dancing
+Graces, and dies in the firmly set form of Mercury, whose
+uplifted arm carries the movement into the steady background,
+which stabilizes it all. Even to mention the particular finesses
+and beauties of this fantastically lovely scene would require
+an essay. I have made a fuller if very imperfect analysis in
+my book, “Estimates in Art.” Now it is best to note merely
+that the only joyous forms are Zephyrus, Spring and Cupid,
+the rest are sad or enigmatically grave, as is Flora. Though
+they celebrate the renewal of life through love in springtime,
+those whose immortality has witnessed many springs carry in
+their faces and bearing the old knowledge that life and love
+are constantly reborn under death sentence, and that what
+is renewed spring after spring has but</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“The frail duration of a flower.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>Again and again the poets have told this to unregarding man.
+Nobody has made it visible save Botticelli.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>I suppose only a score of people at the time knew how fine
+the Primavera was, and a few hundred in the world today may
+know it. The thing was hidden from the public, and Botticelli
+was painting himself into the most obscure sort of glory.
+In his remaining thirty-two years, there are a few reversions
+to his realistic vein, but his most characteristic works merely
+carry on the recondite charm, the acute and personal rhythms
+of the Primavera.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1480 was painted the Faust-like figure of St. Augustine.
+Figure <a href='#f_134'>134</a>. One feels in the gnarled features and hand clutching
+the breast the burden of lifelong meditation on the terrible
+mysteries of free will and God’s eternal decrees. It is the effigy
+of one who has agonized in thought, and is still seeking by
+that Calvary of the mind a tense and hazardous peace.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>The next year Botticelli went to Rome to take charge of
+the decoration of the Sistine Chapel. We have already considered
+his best fresco there, Moses in Midian. Figure <a href='#f_114'>114</a>.
+Of the two others—the Temptation
+of Christ, and the Destruction
+of Korah—we need
+only add that they are immensely
+rich in details, effective
+as narratives, and as decorative
+arrangements surpassed on the
+Sistine walls only by Signorelli
+and Perugino.</p>
+
+<div id='f_134'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_134.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 134.</span> Botticelli. St. Augustine. Fresco.—<em>Ognissanti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_135'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_135.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 135.</span> Botticelli. Madonna with six Angels.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>There are rare moments of
+something like serenity in Botticelli’s
+troubled career. One was
+when he painted the Pallas and
+the Centaur, and another when
+he designed the loveliest of his
+round panels, the Madonna with
+Six Angels, in the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_135'>135</a>. Unlike the more famous
+and popular Magnificat, it is in
+immaculate preservation. The
+composition is subtler and less
+obvious, the worn and burdened
+look of the Madonna oppressed
+by her tragic fate, more specific
+and appealing. The late Herbert
+P. Horne, Botticelli’s best biographer,
+sets the picture about
+1487. About the same time were
+done those nuptial frescoes for
+Lorenzo Tornabuoni and his
+bride, Giovanna degli Albizzi. Torn from the villa walls at
+Careggi, they are now among the treasures of the Louvre.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>Lorenzo is represented as received by the seven liberal arts,
+Giovanna as presented to Venus by the Graces. We have
+seen in the last chapter how these young people shared and
+illustrated the doom impending over Medicean Florence.
+Botticelli captures, if not their look, at least a fine symbol
+for their as yet unchallenged beauty and discretion.</p>
+
+<div id='f_136'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_136.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 136.</span> Botticelli. Birth of Venus.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A little earlier perhaps he added to the Primavera at Castello
+the Birth of Venus, Figure <a href='#f_136'>136</a>. It is conceived in the
+same bold rhythms, which this time converge on the slight,
+smooth form of Venus and are steadied by the horizon and the
+trees. Compared with the Primavera, the whole thing is
+less rich, varied and naturalistic. Everything is more schematic
+and conventional; gold is freely used without realistic pretext.
+The wistful mood is still that of the Primavera. Venus comes
+to earth with no joyous expectation. She glimpses unfulfilled
+desires, the eternally deferred goal of earthly love. She obeys
+a destiny with resignation and a pensive humility—almost
+asks pardon for the confusion she is fated to produce among
+mortals. These involutions and refinements have nothing
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>to do with the whole-souled sensuousness of classical antiquity,
+they have everything to do with that scrupulous balancing
+of divine and earthly love which was the standing problem
+of the Neo-Platonists surrounding Lorenzo the Magnificent.</p>
+
+<div id='f_137'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_137.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 137.</span> Botticelli. Dante and Beatrice in Paradise.—<em>Print Room, Berlin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>During the ’80s Botticelli was much occupied with the
+illustration of a great manuscript of the “Divine Comedy.”
+Figure <a href='#f_137'>137</a>. These outlines in silverpoint retouched with the
+pen find their equals only in the best Far Eastern art. The
+line whips and dances and swirls across the parchment, halting
+and turning to define a detail, then speeding anew on its task
+of suggesting motion. Figures that float, groups that march or
+dance as one, trailing smoke of incense—these volatile features
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>are rendered with the most energetic delicacy. And the
+most incredible episodes of Dante’s poem gain credence with
+the eye through the deftest use of the pure line. It hardens
+to suggest bone and sinew, tightens to express joints that
+bear weight and preserve balance, loosens and gallops to give
+the flutter of drapery over twinkling limbs. And all this is
+done with a thin pen line that hardly changes thickness or
+blackness—done with a touch as light as a feather and yet as
+firm as the swing of a draughtsman’s compass. The study of
+such drawings is a liberal education in the æsthetics of pure
+line.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>These drawings freely distort the actual forms for the sake
+of greater expressiveness. Such distortion is the characteristic
+mark of Botticelli’s latest style. One may note it in the
+furniture panels which tell the story of St. Zenobius and the
+tragic lot of the Roman heroines, Lucretia and Virginia; in the
+Annunciation of the Uffizi and the Last Communion of St.
+Jerome, in the Metropolitan Museum. The new manner is
+characterized by habitually vehement expression. Intensity
+becomes morbid, effective withal. We have to do with tortured
+but very fine nerves. What personal history is involved
+we can merely surmise. We know, however, that Botticelli
+followed eagerly the theocratic revolution of Savonarola and
+suffered deep chagrin when the attempt to make Florence
+a city of God collapsed amid sordid political jealousies. His
+art becomes that of a <em>Piagnone</em>, a Savonarolist, a contemner
+of the careless world. His method changes. The figures are
+unmodelled and flat, they hurtle wildly and glisten metallically
+before airless landscapes. Most of the hard-won Florentine
+realisms drop out, and the linear rhythms recall the Gothic
+poignancy of Simone Martini.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Perhaps the finest picture of this sort is the Calumny of
+Apelles, Figure <a href='#f_138'>138</a>, painted about 1490, and now in the Uffizi.
+It recreates after an anecdote of Lucian, made current by
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>Leonbattista Alberti, a lost masterpiece by Apelles, which
+was painted to convince Alexander the Great of the evil of
+calumny. An innocent prisoner is haled before an ignorant
+judge. Calumny bearing a torch drags him by the hair.
+Treachery and Deceit act as her tiring maids. The sordid
+figure of Envy is her guide to a judge into whose asses’ ears
+Ignorance and Suspicion whisper their counsels. Naked Truth
+pleads in vain for the victim as Remorse turns to her with
+sullen helplessness. By a pictorial irony, the sinister whirling
+group is set in a stately court adorned with statues of magnanimous
+heroes of old, and one glimpses through the rich
+arches a cloudless sky and an untroubled sea. Very rich in
+imaginative content, ornate in its use of color and gold, sharp
+and definite in its rhythms, discreet in its expressive distortions,
+this is perhaps the masterpiece of Botticelli’s late
+style.</p>
+
+<div id='f_138'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_138.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 138.</span> Botticelli. The Calumny of Apelles.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>But one regards with surely almost pleasure and with more
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>lively sympathy the little Nativity in the National Gallery,
+Figure <a href='#f_139'>139</a>, a celestial idyl in sentiment, and of greatest beauty
+of muted coloring. Above the shed where the Virgin Mother
+worships her Divine Child, a dancing ring of angels hovers.
+They hold olive branches from which depend martyrs’ crowns.
+Wreathed shepherds, figures from some Theocritan idyl, kneel
+outside the shed. Below, angels eagerly embrace three youthful
+crowned figures, while impish baffled fiends lurk in crevices
+of the rocks. The three figures may well typify Savonarola
+and his two fellow-martyrs. A Greek inscription gives the date
+of 1500 and hints at the fall of Savonarola and the shame of
+the French invasion. There is a tenderness about the picture
+that recalls the Primavera, but it is more elusive and unearthly,
+more implicit in every bit of the workmanship itself than
+dependent on explicit symbolism.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>What Botticelli could achieve in stark tragedy at this
+time is shown in the Piet of the Munich gallery, a masterpiece
+which many critics have quite unaccountably ascribed
+to an inferior imitator. It is of tremendous effect. The compressing
+rocks seem to confine a grief too great to be liberated
+in space. A shudder concentrates itself upon the fair, youthful
+body of the dead Christ. One assists at a cosmic mourning,
+the intolerable tension of which is mercifully relieved in the
+swooning form of the Mother of Sorrows. The colors are
+sombre, the whole effect fairly sculptural, though mass is attained
+more by linear accents than by systematic light and
+shade. Balance and pose obey not a law of physics but one
+of feeling.</p>
+
+<div id='f_139'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>
+<img src='images/f_139.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 139.</span> Botticelli. Mystical Nativity.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>The picture may be one of Botticelli’s latest. He lived on
+till 1510, a lonely and indulged eccentric. He witnessed the
+youthful triumphs of Raphael and Michelangelo at Florence,
+and saw the superb maturity of his friend Leonardo da Vinci.
+He saw the artistic world move away from himself towards
+ideals of gravity and decorum and disciplined monumentality.
+He could have followed that high road himself. Instead he
+had sought a romantic self-expression leading to an <i><span lang="it">impasse</span></i>.
+At least he had made the <i><span lang="it">impasse</span></i> singularly thrilling. Being
+a wag as well as a poet, he had his compensations for neglect
+and doubtless he never regretted his impolitic choice. Among
+artists of febrile and romantic fibre he is one of the greatest.
+To know him thoroughly is an incomparable exercise in exquisite
+feeling.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Taken in its social aspect, Botticelli’s later style is a protest
+against the current, superficial, narrative and decorative
+modes. Against prevailing successful commonplace, he opposes
+a highly refined idiosyncracy. While the more stolid
+artists of the end of the century were content to rework Ghirlandaio’s
+glittering vein, the more sensitive spirits sought distinction
+in eccentricity. Eccentricity appears whenever an
+old style has gone stale and a new one is imminent. It is the
+natural expression of souls too independent to conform and
+too weak to reconstruct. The grotesque was in the air. Luigi
+Pulci in the “Morgante Maggiore” burlesques the ideal romances
+of chivalry, and mixes the old clear categories of good
+and evil. Lorenzo de’ Medici at once mimics and caricatures
+the simplicity of the peasant pastorals. Cynicism runs riot
+in the short-story writers and in the new comedy. There is a
+confusion of standards, a new complexity of appreciation,
+that at once bewilders and allures delicate spirits. Thus they
+really express such a moment of hesitation better than stronger
+or more ordinary artists. So a Post-Impressionist of today may
+have a high symptomatic importance even though his art be
+null, and a Filippino Lippi and Piero di Cosimo really tell us
+more about the time-spirit than a Leonardo da Vinci.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Filippino<a id='r47'></a><a href='#f47' class='c012'><sup>[47]</sup></a> was born in 1457, at Prato, and presumably received
+his first instruction from his father, Fra Filippo. At
+fifteen we find him an orphan and studying with Botticelli,
+whom he probably assisted at Rome in 1482. At twenty-seven,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>in 1484, he had the extraordinary honor of completing Masaccio’s
+frescoes in the Brancacci Chapel. Doubtless he had his
+great predecessor’s sketches to aid him. With a somewhat
+lighter accent, he imitated as he might Masaccio’s simple and
+massive construction in light and shade. Filippino’s Peter
+before the Proconsul, Figure <a href='#f_140'>140</a>, and Crucifixion of St. Peter
+are of a gravity and weight to have passed for Masaccio’s
+with good critics. But the fine portraits are distinctive
+for the later date, as are the portraits and the graceful
+kneeling boy painted opposite in the fresco left unfinished by
+Masaccio.</p>
+
+<div id='f_140'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_140.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 140.</span> Filippino Lippi. St. Peter before Nero. Detail of Fresco.—<em>Brancacci Chapel.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>As a work of pious assimilation, Filippino’s frescoes are
+amazing; all his more original work is so much falling-off from
+his beginnings. His characteristic sensitive prettiness may be
+best observed in the altar-piece in the Badia representing St.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>Bernard’s Vision of the Virgin. Figure <a href='#f_141'>141</a>. As he writes her
+praises, she approaches his desk escorted by eager angels. The
+scenic picturesqueness of the
+landscape, the accentuated prettiness
+of the faces are characteristic.
+Superficially like Botticelli,
+Filippino is less selective and
+always more sentimental. He
+is rudely shaken out of a mode
+in which he is attractive by the
+advent of the new giants of
+painting, Leonardo and Signorelli.
+In his last work, painted
+about 1502 for the Strozzi
+Chapel of Santa Maria Novella, he spends himself in superfluous
+and ineffective inventions,—trophies, archæological
+ornaments. To lend impressiveness and tragedy to the
+martyrdom of St. Philip and St. James, or to the miracle
+of Drusiana, Figure <a href='#f_142'>142</a>, he has recourse to hideous contortions
+of mouth and brows, to creaking joints and bursting
+muscles, to clamor and sensationalism of all sorts. It is the
+bankruptcy of the gentle spirit who only twenty years earlier
+had shown himself almost a great artist in the Carmine, and
+only ten years earlier had proved himself an accomplished
+decorator, at the Minerva, Rome. And the pity of this plunge
+into competitive and hopeless exhibitionism is that Filippino
+was a man of taste and character, a collector of classical antiques,
+an obliging and generous spirit. He died in 1504 at the
+moment when Leonardo da Vinci was planning a real and successful
+sensation for Florence, in The Fight for the Standard.</p>
+
+<div id='f_141'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_141.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 141.</span> Filippino Lippi. St. Bernard’s Vision.—<em>Badia.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_143'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>
+<img src='images/f_143.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 143.</span> Piero di Cosimo. Primitive Man. Spalliera panel.—<em>Metropolitan Museum, N. Y.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_142'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_142.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 142.</span> Filippino Lippi. Raising of Drusiana by St. John.—<em>S. M. Novella, Florence.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>If Filippino became an eccentric through pressure of circumstances,
+Piero di Cosimo<a id='r48'></a><a href='#f48' class='c012'><sup>[48]</sup></a> was one by nature. Born in
+1462, he soon came under the dullest of masters, Cosimo
+Rosselli. To Cosimo’s four hopeless frescoes in the Sistine
+Chapel he added certain vivacious features, and there he
+learned to know some of the ablest artists of his day. Always
+a bachelor and recluse, he pursued serious studies in imitation
+of such stern realists as Antonio
+Pollaiuolo and Luca Signorelli.
+He lived sordidly in his <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i>,
+literally from hand to mouth, on
+the eggs which he boiled in his
+glue pot, in weekly batches.
+Alone he planned strange mythologies,
+bestially pungent, and
+there he thought out odd terrible
+pageants which shocked and
+enthralled his Florence. And as
+he made these bizarre inventions,
+he mocked them and himself.
+His admirations were shifting—now
+Signorelli, again the Flemish
+realists and Leonardo: incompatible attractions.</p>
+
+<div id='f_144'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_144.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 144.</span> Piero di Cosimo. Cleopatra.—<em>Chantilly.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>You may sense his quality in two wall panels, now in the
+Metropolitan Museum,<a id='r49'></a><a href='#f49' class='c012'><sup>[49]</sup></a> made for some palace. Piero had
+read over the legend of primitive man as told by Ovid, and
+quickly his mind bred phantoms. First he conceived a state
+where dominion trembled between man and the brute creation.
+Savage men with the unfair advantage of fire are
+exterminating the beasts, among whom fight those half-men,
+the centaurs, Figure <a href='#f_143'>143</a>. In the companion panel the
+mood changes abruptly from strife and tumult to the
+quaintly pastoral strains of a stone-age minuet. We assist
+at a troglodyte water-party. Lovely woman dominates the
+new scene. The now domesticated centaur proudly bears
+her. In courtly fashion skin-clad warriors hand her into a
+rude pleasure raft which may perhaps waft the picnickers to
+the joys of a cannibal feast. These inventions have immense
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>fantastic power, and their real originality by no means precludes
+the suspicion that the artist is smiling at his own ingenuity
+and at our complaisance.</p>
+
+<div id='f_145'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_145.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 145.</span> Piero di Cosimo. Death of Procris.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Take again his Cleopatra, Figure <a href='#f_144'>144</a>, at Chantilly. The
+snub-nosed Florentine beauty airs her abundant charms in
+a romantic landscape, while the asp does his by no means disagreeable
+duty. What a travesty of the dignity of Plutarch,
+and how fetching it is as distinguished burlesque!</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Cautiously and perhaps grudgingly, in the early years of
+the new century, Piero follows the improvements of Leonardo.
+This influence is palpable in the Rescue of Andromeda,
+in the Uffizi. The chained princess carelessly displays her
+appetizing attractions, while the leering and hungry dragon
+lurches on the beach and surveys his prey. High up in the
+sky is hope, in the brisk, knightly figure of Perseus. A musical
+party lolls deliciously on the strand, equally prepared to
+enjoy a heroic rescue or a monster at feeding time. We are
+in the superbly irresponsible world of the fairy tale, and the
+thrilling <i><span lang="fr">raconteur</span></i> has his clever tongue in his cheek.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Exceptionally, as in that wistful poesy, The Death of
+Procris, Figure <a href='#f_145'>145</a>, at London, Piero is serious enough. The
+girlish body lies very quiet amid meadow flowers. A puzzled
+faun and a more comprehending hound are very touching
+mourners amid the unregarding beasts and birds of a tranquil
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>lake-side afternoon. Such refinements of sentiment are often
+the compensation for an unstable spirit. The vein is rare in
+Piero, who, aside from his mythological ironies and quite conventional
+religious pieces, is also a vivacious portraitist as the
+galleries of New Haven, Conn., the Hague, and London
+attest.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Piero lived on till 1521, surviving both Leonardo and
+Raphael. The greatest artistic effort of modern times had
+spent itself before his eyes, and he had mostly been content
+to be witty. He represents at least a fine scorn of his flimsy
+training, and remains a consummate type of the artist who
+lives, like a bear in winter, on his own fat.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>After a long detour, we are once more on the high road.
+Perugino, with his simple and gracious symmetries, had shown
+the painting of the end of the century what ailed it. But his
+cure was too obvious to be acceptable until a youngster of
+Raphael’s entirely modest intelligence should come along.
+The reform, as often in other than artistic affairs, had to
+be made from within, and was conducted by one who had much
+sympathy with the random richness of the Early Renaissance
+style, Leonardo da Vinci.<a id='r50'></a><a href='#f50' class='c012'><sup>[50]</sup></a></p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Leonardo’s discoveries, pursued with the most patient
+and gradual care, shocked no one and were quickly taken up.
+He was nearly thirty before he reached consciousness of his
+mission, and having attained his artistic end, he dropped
+painting, with a kind of scorn, for mathematical and scientific
+investigation. In his admirable “Tractate on Painting”
+he has left the fullest and most eloquent records of his ideals.
+The first is that the painter must know clearly what he is
+about. “Without good theory no good practice is possible.”
+Next the artist should be in a filial relation to nature, admiring
+and imitating her directly, and not through the eyes of
+other artists. As to the main object of painting, Leonardo
+wavers between two definitions. Repeatedly he insists that
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>that painting is greatest which through the postures of the
+body shows the emotions of the soul. As often, he uses a
+more technical definition—the chief business of painting is
+to create a sense of relief or projection where there is none.
+This relief is effected by delicate and accurate distribution of
+light and shade. Light and dark are conceived in a double
+fashion, as factors in relief and as offering intrinsic beauties in
+their gradations. We have a refinement on the method of
+Masaccio, which is merely structural and dramatic and without
+much intrinsic charm. But the new beauty of chiaroscuro
+soon turns out to be incompatible with the old beauty of
+frank color. Pictures become dusky and mysterious, tending
+to black and white values. Ever since Leonardo, academic
+painting has had the sore limitation of regarding shadow as
+negation of color. It is the defect of his teaching and practice.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>On broader matters, however, Leonardo is profoundly right.
+Seeing is a mental process and should be selective. Represent
+all the muscles emphatically, and your nude will look like a
+sack full of nuts. Accuracy is necessary, but is of no value
+without accompanying dignity and grace. Choose the most
+gracious aspects of reality, the pervasive moderate light of
+evening rather than the sharp glare of the overhead sun. Observe
+deaf-mutes so that you may learn the possibilities of
+expression through gestures. Seek equilibrium and an active
+and vital balance whether in the pose of the single figure or
+in the relations of the figures to each other. Get the action
+right, and afterwards add the details. These are some of the
+precepts which Leonardo scribbled off about the year 1500
+when he was nearing fifty and his work as a painter was almost
+over. He is really describing the principles under which,
+while accepting the richness and variety of the early Renaissance
+style, he had once for all put it in order.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of course this was a very gradual process. To the end Leonardo
+retained something of a primitive quality, and he was by
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>no means precocious. He was born in 1452, the lovechild of
+a peasant girl of Vinci and a young Florentine notary, Piero
+da Vinci. His earliest recollections must have been of the hills
+and distant mountain prospects of his native hamlet of Vinci,
+between Florence and Pisa. But he was soon taken into his
+father’s home at Florence, and given an education which
+hardly exceeded the proverbial “Three R’s”. Just when he was
+put with the painter and sculptor, Andrea Verrocchio, is uncertain,
+but it can hardly have been later than Leonardo’s
+thirteenth year, 1465. As a painter, Verrocchio exists for us
+chiefly in the work of his pupils. As a sculptor, however,
+he is a definite enough figure. His aim was plainly to infuse
+the new realism with an aristocratic elegance. What a young
+patrician is his David composing himself for the ordeal with a
+restrained well-bred smile! There is a splendid dandyism in
+his valor. Or consider the Madonna in terra-cotta, with her
+ornate head-dress, rich brooch, and carefully arranged robe,
+her almost too sweet self-possession. She is a clue to the
+fastidiousness of Verrocchio. Again consider the proud
+hard face and the marvelously firm and delicate hands of the
+unknown lady Verrocchio cut in marble. These things are
+dominant for the early development of Leonardo, as the alert,
+powerful and aggressive Colleoni monument is for his later
+heroic creations. Something of Verrocchio’s scrupulous and
+eminently dilatory character also passed over to his brilliant
+pupil. Verrocchio remained a bachelor and wholly devoted to
+his art, yet he took eighteen years to give to his famous bronze
+group of Christ and St. Thomas its dignity and sensitive feeling.
+Leonardo remained some ten years or more with Verrocchio,
+painting many works that are lost to us, and a few, I believe,
+that we may identify. In this most contested matter I follow
+in the main the views of Dr. Sirén.</p>
+
+<div id='f_146'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>
+<img src='images/f_146.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 146.</span> Leonardo da Vinci, Head at Left; Verrocchio, Head at Right. Details from Verrocchio’s Baptism.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_146a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>
+<img src='images/f_146a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 146</span><em>a.</em>> Verrocchio and Leonardo. Baptism of Christ.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_147'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_147.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 147.</span> Leonardo da Vinci under Verrocchio’s Direction. Annunciation.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For many years Leonardo ventured little on his own account,
+following with docility the directions of his master. The single
+painting which we may with certainty ascribe to Verrocchio,
+the Baptism of Christ, Figure <a href='#f_146a'>146a</a>, in the Uffizi, already bears
+traces of Leonardo’s hand. The general composition is borrowed
+from an insignificant panel of Baldovinetti’s. The
+stalwart ugly forms derive from Pollaiuolo. Delightful features
+added in oils by Leonardo are the exquisite angel at
+the left, Figure <a href='#f_146'>146</a>, and the vaporous distance and mountain
+skyline. We may surmise that these improvements were added
+about 1470 to a picture started several years earlier. One
+other picture was designed by Verrocchio and finished after
+his death in 1488 by his assistant, Lorenzo di Credi. This
+Madonna, in the cathedral of Pistoia, affords an excellent
+contrast between the puffy forms of Lorenzo and the firm and
+living contours of Leonardo. The famous Annunciation in the
+Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_147'>147</a>, seems a kind of joint product, the actual
+painting being by Leonardo, the badly balanced composition
+and intrusive heavy lectern, as well as the rather cheap attitude
+of surprise of the Virgin, representing a perfunctory
+mood of Verrocchio. The vista of remote mountains hanging
+pale in the blue sky is such as only
+Leonardo could have created.
+The delightful Gabriel also seems
+wholly his invention. The composition
+again rests on one of
+Baldovinetti’s, at S. Miniato,
+and the date of the picture may
+be about 1475. Of about the
+same date is a Madonna with an
+Angel in the National Gallery,
+which may well be a composition
+of Verrocchio interpreted by
+Leonardo. The note of sweetness
+is a little forced, as in most
+work of this kind. We meet Leonardo in his own right a little
+earlier, in a pen sketch of a broad landscape dated in midsummer
+summer of 1473, Figure <a href='#f_148'>148</a>. Its spaciousness and schematic
+handling of horizontals ally it to the landscape backgrounds
+we have been considering. The last work of this Verrocchian
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>character is the Portrait of a Girl, in the Liechtenstein Gallery,
+Vienna. Here we are in a field where Leonardo and his
+master are almost indistinguishable, but the picturesquely
+broken background, the bit of landscape, and the ease of
+the contours, speak for the younger man. As late as 1476, his
+twenty-fifth year, Leonardo was still with Verrocchio. He
+probably set up his own <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> a year or so afterwards.</p>
+
+<div id='f_148'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_148.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 148.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Landscape. Pen Drawing.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_149'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_149.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 149.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Annunciation.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>There followed four or five years of eager experiment,
+much being planned and rather little carried to completion.
+Relieved from the pressure of a master, actual painting seems
+to have become irksome. He loves to sketch, to turn his
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>designs over until they reach perfection, leaving them in the
+condition of the swiftest and most accurate notations. Lack
+of system and paralysis of will are already apparent. For
+about two years of this joyous and irresponsible creation he
+remained a primitive. Such he is in the idyllic little Annunciation
+of the Louvre,<a id='r51'></a><a href='#f51' class='c012'><sup>[51]</sup></a> Figure <a href='#f_149'>149</a>, which should be for its
+fluent technic no earlier than 1476. He takes the motive which
+he had previously done under restrictions, reduces it to a
+symmetrical order, rejects distracting details, floods it with
+warm light breaking through ragged apertures of the trees, and
+invests it with a penetrating humility and grace. The little
+picture, which many critics set too early, is really Leonardo’s
+declaration of independence. It shows features which anticipate
+his mature style—a combination of a severe geometrical
+symmetry in figure composition with a romantically strange
+setting and lighting.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of less import is the unpretentious little Madonna of the
+Flower, recently discovered, and in the Hermitage, at Petrograd.
+It is authenticated by numerous composition sketches.
+Its vivacity and youthful lightness of effect are entirely in
+Verrocchio’s manner, nothing is new but heavier shadows
+and more emphatic modelling.</p>
+
+<div id='f_150'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>
+<img src='images/f_150.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 150.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Pen Sketches for the Madonna of the Cat.—<em>British Museum.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>On a sheet of drawings in the Uffizi, which characteristically
+combines with sketches of men’s heads studies of machinery,
+we read “This day I began the two Virgin Marys.”
+The day is effaced, but it is a month in 1478, ending in <em>-bre</em>—September,
+October or November. One of these Madonnas
+is, no doubt, the Madonna of the Flower.<a id='r52'></a><a href='#f52' class='c012'><sup>[52]</sup></a> As to the other we
+have no certainty, but the sketches of this time show at least
+five madonnas in process of invention. A Madonna holding
+a mischievous Child who hugs a writhing cat, a Madonna with
+a Dish of Fruit, a Madonna kneeling before the Child, a
+theme later developed into the Madonna of the Rocks; a
+Madonna seated on the Ground, and a Madonna seated in the
+open with the Christchild and St. John. Dr. Jens Thys thinks
+the last composition may be the one actually begun as a
+picture, since such early Raphaels as the Belle Jardinière
+seem to imply such a picture as their model. We do well to
+turn from such speculations to the marvelous sketches for
+these Madonnas, Figure <a href='#f_150'>150</a>. Nothing firmer, lighter or
+more charming can be imagined. Of the line, thinned to a
+hair or widened to a blot, there is the completest control.
+These little figures, a couple of inches high at the most and
+often of thumb-nail minuteness, may be enlarged to life size
+without losing in structure or character. Nothing shows better
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>the sheer fecund genius of Leonardo than these sheets,
+crowded with figures, scribbled with his right-to-left handwriting,
+and slantingly shaded from upper left downwards,
+after the fashion of a lefthanded draughtsman. They show
+how Leonardo worked in spurts of inspiration, creating a
+dozen lovely compositions and contented with none. They
+represent so many tensely joyous half-hours, with doubtless
+long intervals of other activities and withal of sheer brooding
+and unrecorded observation. They help one grasp the spasmodic
+and discontinuous quality of Leonardo’s genius—why
+the actual execution of pictures was ever a matter of
+pain and drudgery to him. Up to his twenty-ninth year he
+apparently made no prolonged effort of any sort, but spent
+himself furiously in separate investigations. Then he pulled
+himself together for a great picture, and though it too never
+got beyond the underpainting, it broke the new path to the
+Golden Age.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For several years Leonardo had turned over the theme
+of an Adoration of the Child in his sketch books. These desultory
+inventions were brought abruptly to a focus in March
+1481, when he agreed to do an altar-piece for the monks of
+S. Donato at Scopeto. We have the best circumstantial evidence
+for identifying this piece with the unfinished Adoration
+of the Kings, now in the Uffizi. When we live ourselves into
+this dusky and mysterious sketch we step out of the early
+Renaissance into a new, ardent, rich and ordered region of
+invention such as the world had not witnessed since the glory
+of Greece faded. The composition went through at least
+three main stages. At first, as we see from a pen study in
+the Bonnat Museum, at Bayonne, an Adoration of the
+Shepherds was considered, the Madonna kneeling over the
+Christ between flanking groups of worshippers. The
+scheme was rejected as too thin and obvious. A picture of
+Lorenzi di Credi’s shows us its limited possibilities. Then the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>picture became an Adoration of the Kings, with the thatched
+shed, much action in the foreground group and a ruined amphitheatre
+in the background. This sketch in the Louvre, Figure
+<a href='#f_151'>151</a>, contains all the elements of the picture, but an extraordinary
+work of clarification
+and refinement remained to be
+done. The figures were studied
+and restudied till they reached
+both highest expressiveness and
+individuality,<a id='r53'></a><a href='#f53' class='c012'><sup>[53]</sup></a> and an exact relation
+to the dense and intricate
+articulation of the foreground
+group. Often there are half a
+dozen separate studies for each
+motive. The central group was
+more closely massed till it became
+a rose of eager faces and
+flickering hands and kneeling
+forms pressing inward towards
+the Child. To increase this concentration, a mound is erected
+behind the group shutting it off from the wide background.
+To steady the group, the Madonna is no longer swung athwart
+the motion, but her nearly straight position becomes a sort
+of axis carried up by the trees above. In the richness, variety
+and animation of the compact group of adorers, Leonardo has
+met the Early Renaissance on its own ground and outdone it.
+In the wider setting he still observes the old precepts, but in
+a profounder and more significant sense. He has swept the
+traditional shed aside and opened up a world, a world furtive
+and active and combatant in its own wilfulness—playing,
+hiding, and fighting amid the crumbling ruins of old civilizations,
+and before distant towering crags which were there before
+civilization or man himself was; a world oblivious of the
+sublime mystery accomplishing itself in the kings who pay
+homage to a Babe. What an ironic substitute for the joyous
+pastoralism with which contemporary artists invested their
+pictures of the Epiphany!</p>
+
+<div id='f_151'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_151.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 151.</span> Leonardo. Sketch for Adoration.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_152'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>
+<img src='images/f_152.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 152.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Adoration of the Magi. Underpainting.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Adoration of the Kings, Figure <a href='#f_152'>152</a>, is the richest, most
+complicated, most beautifully ordered picture of its century;
+even Leonardo was not to surpass it simply as a composition.
+Like all rich things it will bear many analyses. You may
+consider it as a triangle, with the reciprocal forms enriched,
+or, with Dr. Thys, as the combination of two radiating motives,
+one centred on the Madonna’s face, the other on the
+soft alert body of the Child. Such analyses are only important
+as temporary aids to understanding of the main fact
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>that in the making of such a masterpiece a clear and subtile
+geometry is involved. Later Leonardo was to declare that
+there is no science which cannot undergo mathematical demonstration,
+and he probably would have added—no art. Of
+his own art at least the saying is true. It may have been not
+so much his native indolence that arrested a work which had
+claimed months of passionate preparation at the moment when
+creation was at its height, as the conviction that it would
+lose something if fully realized. One can see how he loved
+the summary touches of dark and light, the swift, sufficient
+evocation of body and soul which he had learned from Masaccio.
+He may have hated to cover up such work, and a critic today
+may well be in doubt whether the gain in finishing it would
+have atoned for the loss. Or Leonardo da Vinci may already
+have been called to Milan and a new artistic life. However
+that be, the monks of Secopto, after a long wait, turned
+to Filippino Lippi, who had already undertaken one lapsed
+commission for Leonardo, and he promptly achieved an Adoration
+of the Kings which only shows how inimitable Leonardo
+was, and how little mere richness counts in any picture.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For two years between 1481 and 1483, there is silence. It
+seems to me that in this time we may set the crowning of his
+early work in the Madonna of the Rocks at the Louvre and
+the Cartoon of St. Ann at London. The Madonna of the
+Rocks, Figure <a href='#f_153'>153</a>, is the logical outcome of a half dozen
+Adorations which we may trace through the drawings of 1478.
+A sheet of sketches in the Metropolitan Museum shows him
+turning the theme over, rejecting the established profile arrangement
+of Fra Filippo, and hitting on the formal pyramidal pattern
+which appears in the picture itself. There the pyramid is felt not
+merely in plane, but also in depth. The forms and faces are
+superbly tense without either rigidity or the fluency of Leonardo’s
+later work. The setting is primitive, with minutely
+studied textures of rock and crisp shapes of wall-flowers.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>Everything derives from Fra Filippo and Botticelli, but with
+new meaning. The romantic strangeness of the setting, the
+glimpses of sky and opening in the rock, the sifting in of light
+from the heart of the picture itself, the broad contrast of the
+formality of the figure arrangement
+with the picturesque wildness
+of the setting—all this is
+purest Leonardo and represents
+the culmination of many experiments.
+One can trace this idea
+of irregularly broken light and
+an informal screen as foil for a
+geometrical pattern, from the little
+Annunciation of the Louvre,
+through the unfinished St. Jerome
+of the Vatican. The Early
+Renaissance steps into the background,
+where it belongs. Leonardo
+never rejects it; he fulfils
+it with an exquisite sense of proportion.</p>
+
+<div id='f_153'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_153.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 153.</span> Leonardo. Madonna of the Rocks.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>If the first Madonna of the
+Rocks was painted before 1482,
+in Florence, so probably was the cartoon of the Madonna with
+St. Ann, Figure <a href='#f_127'>127</a>, perhaps the most precious single work
+that Leonardo has left us. The inwardness of the relation between
+the two women is in the mood of the Adoration of the
+Kings, single motives suggest the drawings for the Madonna
+of the Cat. Later Leonardo was to lend to the motive greater
+complication and formal elegance, somewhat at the cost of
+emotional insight. Pictures of intense and natural feeling Leonardo
+does not produce after his thirtieth year. Instead we
+have dramatic objectivity in one phase, and in another, exquisite
+subtilities, a calculated graciousness sweet to morbidity.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>What drew Leonardo from Florence to Milan we do not
+surely know. Probably he was called directly by the Duke
+Lodovico Sforza to undertake the colossal equestrian statue
+of his father Francesco. Moreover, Leonardo seems to have
+achieved notoriety at Florence without gaining much confidence
+or achieving much success. After all, he had rather little to
+show for his genius—just his sketch books and his good intentions
+in unfinished masterpieces. He seems, too, never to
+have mastered the practice which ever brought the best commissions,
+fresco painting. Thus he had every reason to seek
+new fortunes.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>He heralded his coming to Milan with the most truthfully
+boastful of letters in which he arrogated to himself all ability
+as an inventor, civil and military engineer, painter, sculptor,
+and architect; and he entered the presence of Lodovico bearing
+a silver lute wrought in the form of a horse’s skull. This
+dramatic entrance was the forecast of arduous duties as an entertainer.
+He sang, told anecdotes and fables, arranged pageants
+and masques, conducted debates on his art—in short,
+accepted the thousand and one duties and distractions of a
+courtier.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>He painted the portraits of the Duke’s mistresses, and it
+is possible that we have the girlish figure of Cecilia Gallierani
+in the lady with an Ermine<a id='r54'></a><a href='#f54' class='c012'><sup>[54]</sup></a> at Cracow. The forms and
+feeling are entirely like Leonardo’s work in the early
+eighties. He agreed to do an altar-piece for the Church of San
+Francesco, and delivered it only after a delay of twenty-three
+years. This most postponed of pictures is the version
+of the Madonna of the Rocks now at London. Meanwhile
+Leonardo’s constant concern was “the horse,” as he calls it.
+For seven years he worked at a rearing horse with a fallen foe
+trodden beneath. It is shown in many drawings. It was too
+sensational a theme to please him in the long run. So in 1490,
+spurred by the risk of losing the job, he restudied the horse,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>using the walking motive, which had come down from classical
+antiquity. Eventually the clay model was set up before the
+Sforza castle, just in time for the invading French archers
+to make a target of it. The rider was never even definitely
+planned. The whole project remained a chagrin to Leonardo
+even after the horse itself had disappeared. One day in Florence
+he civilly accosted Michelangelo who turned on him with
+the taunt—“Thou who did’st model a horse and could’st not
+cast it in bronze.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Amidst the distractions of the court, the irksomeness of
+the rashly undertaken Sforza monument, and the increasing
+passion for scientific research, Leonardo managed to carry
+through his single monumental work, the Last Supper, in the
+refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For three years Leonardo worked spasmodically on the
+Last Supper, and it was finished in 1498. The design had been
+most carefully elaborated. He started with the customary
+arrangement of the apostles in pairs, John in Jesus’ bosom—a
+refractory motive, and Judas in sinister isolation on the
+near side of the table. Almost by accident he fell upon the
+effective grouping of the apostles by threes. Then he set
+himself to giving in expression and gesture the maximum emotion
+that could be contained within a monumental design.
+He eliminated the old casual accessories and made all the lines
+of perspective converge on the face of Christ. He gave to all
+the figures a classical gravity, though admitting many varieties
+of age and character.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Thus even in its ruined estate The Last Supper, Figure <a href='#f_154'>154</a>,
+is perhaps the most impressive picture in the world. The
+moment is that when Christ says “One of you shall betray me.”
+The arrangement is in five great balancing waves. From the
+Christ there is an outgoing gesture of resignation and love,
+from the apostles converging, incoming waves of horror, amazement,
+curiosity and indignation. Each undulation is double.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>Extended arms or pointed hands check the motion where it
+is excessive or connect the separate groups. Only Judas is
+out of the converging rhythm. He swings back defiantly pondering
+his part. Highly agitated in details, the whole is held
+within a noble and pathetic decorum. It is the very ideal of
+a Renaissance composition—dense, rich, energetic, varied,
+yet unified by a severe and calculated pattern which subordinates
+to its purpose the most diverse components. Raphael
+can only imitate it in the lower part of the Disputa, and monumental
+design ever since has gone to school with it.</p>
+
+<div id='f_154'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_154.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 154.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Last supper.—<em>S. Maria delle Grazie, Milan.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was unhappily painted in tempera, not in oils as older accounts
+say,<a id='r55'></a><a href='#f55' class='c012'><sup>[55]</sup></a> on the dry wall, and it soon began to deteriorate.
+What we see today is merely the wraith of it, yet a wraith that
+imposes itself and moves us as few better preserved masterpieces
+do.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the year 1500 the French overran Lombardy, and, Leonardo,
+after wandering in Northern Italy and a martial episode
+as engineer for conquering Cæsar Borgia, returned, in 1503,
+to his native Florence. He is fifty and already in spirit an old
+man. His always limited will power has given out, he broods
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>incessantly over mathematical and physical lore, wastes himself
+over fantastic inventions. His exhibit is only a cartoon,
+now lost, for a St. Ann. He makes portraits by proxy, but
+paints, himself, only under peculiar incentives. Such he found
+in the commission for a great battle-piece for the Priors’ Palace
+and in the personality of Mona Lisa.</p>
+
+<div id='f_155'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_155.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 155.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. Sketches for the Battle of Anghiari.—<em>Windsor Castle.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Early in the year 1504 he began to work on the cartoon for
+the Battle of Anghiari. He chose the incident of a cavalry
+fight for the standard. He composed a whirl of horses and infuriated
+riders, hacking and slashing about a flag—a literal
+picture of bloodlust at its height. The ability he expended
+on this atrocious theme may be sensed in a dozen preparatory
+sketches, Figure <a href='#f_155'>155</a>. The portion which he actually painted
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>on the wall is represented only by inferior copies. The
+original soon faded from deficient technical methods. The old
+copies tell us that this great piece, while the marvel of its
+day, was sensational and highly
+exhibitionistic. We need not too
+much mourn its loss. The admiration
+it evoked was that of
+an age eager for novelty and
+responsive to display.</p>
+
+<div id='f_156'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_156.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 156.</span> Leonardo. Mona Lisa.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>While working on the battle-piece,
+Leonardo met the young
+Neapolitan wife of Francesco del
+Giocondo and began her portrait,
+Figure <a href='#f_156'>156</a>. She had lost children
+and was habitually sad. He employed
+musicians to charm the
+inscrutable fascinating smile to
+her face. He set her demure and
+watchful before a romantic expanse
+of river plain rimmed by
+blue alps. Against this wild charm of nature, he made Mona
+Lisa a symbol for all that is cultured, self-contained, sophisticated,
+civilized. Simple people instinctively dislike her,
+and are right. Subtle people adore her, and are also right.
+Such as wish poetic commentary on her mysterious beauty
+may find it for themselves in Walter Pater’s admirable essay.
+They will do well to temper his eloquence with Kenyon Cox’s<a id='r56'></a><a href='#f56' class='c012'><sup>[56]</sup></a>
+just if prosaic observation that this portrait is simply the finest,
+most accurate, and subtle bit of modelling in the world. Its
+mystery is perhaps merely one of amazing vision and impeccable
+workmanship. The truth may well lie between two interpretations,
+each of which is valid in its own field. Had
+there not been some extraordinary spell in the woman
+herself, Leonardo, now well weary of painting, would hardly
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>have studied either her soul or her modelling with such
+tenacity.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>During his brief sojourn in Florence, Leonardo did cartoons
+for two designs of Leda and the
+Swan, his only mythological picture.
+One represents her standing,
+the other crouching. If we
+may trust the inferior imitations,
+in which alone we know these
+subjects, their calculated sensuousness
+was almost cloying.
+Their mood is that of his least
+agreeable imitator, Sodoma.</p>
+
+<div id='f_157'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_157.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 157.</span> Leonardo. Madonna with St. Ann.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In May 1506 Florence lent
+Leonardo to Charles d’Amboise,
+the French viceroy at Milan,
+and there he spent the most of
+the next five years. The Franciscans
+had been biding their
+time, and under legal duress made him finish the Madonna
+which he had promised twenty-three years earlier. Thus the
+second Madonna of the Rocks, at London, was painted somewhat
+against the grain. It has more simplicity and breadth
+than the earlier version and shows improvements in the position
+of the angel. It also lacks the minute and painstaking
+delicacy of its original, reveals a tired hand and mind. Otherwise
+Leonardo achieved in painting only the third version of
+the Madonna and St. Ann, Figure <a href='#f_157'>157</a>, now in the Louvre.
+The interweaving of the figures is compact and masterly,
+the solution of the difficult problems of the two heads consummately
+clever. It has passages of the utmost loveliness,
+like the foot of the Madonna, but there is some suspicion of
+oversophistication, and Leonardo never summoned the energy
+to finish it. Painting little himself,—for he was busy with
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>canals, architecture, and the never finished equestrian monument
+of Trivulzio,—Leonardo gave his stamp to the entire
+Milanese school. Such pupils as Boltraffio, Cesare da Sesto,
+Andrea Solario, his old partner, Ambrogio de Predis, and his
+intimate, Francesco Melzi, readily grasped his mannerisms,
+and filled Italy with Leonardesque pictures of inferior inspiration.
+More robust and independent spirits, like Bernardino
+Luini, adapted his manner intelligently to the needs of mural
+painting. Lombardy under his influence for a moment seemed
+to vie with Florence and Rome.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1513 Leonardo was called to Rome by the new Pope
+Leo X, Lorenzo de’ Medici’s son, Giovanni. It was the moment
+for artistic ambition to flame in one who felt himself a
+great painter. Michelangelo had recently unveiled the Sistine
+ceiling, and Raphael had completed the Camera della Segnatura.
+Leonardo was sixty-one, when a painter should be at
+his best. Yet he plunged himself into scientific experiments,
+perpetrated strange practical jokes on his patrons, produced
+nothing but disorderly notes, and after two wasted years left
+the repute of one rather an amateur magician than an artist.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Having lived a wanderer, it was appropriate that Leonardo
+should die an exile. Francis I, an enthusiastic patron of
+Italian art, called him to France and settled him honorably
+in the Château of Cloux, near Amboise. We hear of him as
+immensely learned and venerable, but palsied, and dependent
+on the affectionate care of his pupil Melzi. He died on the
+morrow of Mayday 1519 at peace with the church, leaving
+money to sixty poor persons who should follow his body with
+candles to the tomb. Doubtless you could have marked in that
+pitiful procession many of those gnarled, toothless and haggard
+faces which Leonardo formerly loved to sketch in the intervals
+of his endless quest of beauty. As we study the marvelous
+drawing of himself in old age, Figure <a href='#f_158'>158</a>, we may surmise that
+he was glad to go. It is hard to see in it the courtier who bore
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>the fantastic silver lute to Lodovico, the artist who charmed
+a smile from the weary and cautious face of Mona Lisa. One
+sees a man immensely old, though at an age generally robust
+and cheery—one who has tried
+to crowd many lives into one and
+has paid the inevitable penalty.</p>
+
+<div id='f_158'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_158.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 158.</span> Leonardo da Vinci. His own portrait.—<em>Turin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Broken and intermittent as it
+had been, Leonardo’s painting
+had sufficed to show the way. He
+had substituted mystery of light
+and shade for allurement of frank
+color, study of the subtler and
+finer shades of emotion for obvious
+characterization, had founded
+modern portraiture. He had
+shown how to express power and
+passion with delicacy, had combined
+the richest animation and
+variety with monumental severity
+of design. After him the art
+of painting was never to be the same again. Its standards
+became ampler and more classic. Stolid men like Fra Bartolommeo
+immediately accepted his principles of composition
+and so did miraculously alert intelligences like Raphael’s.
+His mere passing contact and tradition inspired that admirable
+language of light and dark that became poetry in Giorgione
+and Correggio. The good and the harm he did is active today
+in thousands of academies and art schools. His is assuredly
+the finest intelligence that ever applied itself to the painter’s
+art, and if he failed in will and in fecundity, he has impressed
+himself upon posterity as no other Italian painter save Titian.
+His art had its limitations, but its capacity for influence, to
+which he added the thoughtful eloquence of his written word,
+seems limitless; and his glory is imperishable.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>Nowhere does the superiority of Florence show more clearly
+than in the attitude of her artists to Leonardo. Where his
+Milanese followers aped his superficial mannerisms, his Florentine
+admirers studied and assimilated his construction in light
+and shade and his principles of geometrical composition. Unhappily
+the early years of the sixteenth century were a slack
+time in Florence. Such transitional painters as Piero di Cosimo,
+Granacci, Franciabigio, Il Bacchiacca, and Ridolfo Ghirlandaio
+were not men to carry forward Leonardo’s discoveries,
+but they and others, at least paid him an intelligent homage
+and sensibly clarified their practice under his influence.
+Greater intelligences like Fra Bartolommeo and Andrea del
+Sarto not merely adopted Leonardo’s canons, but even at
+certain points criticized them. Both saw the drawback of
+Leonardo’s passionate concern with chiaroscuro—that it
+flooded the canvas with colorless shadow, tending to reduce
+the palette to black and white. Both men then therefore
+kept their rich shadows colorful. Both worked for a more compact
+and intricate composition as well as for graceful, abstract
+poses. In these latter endeavors they simplified and
+sharpened principles which Leonardo himself only rarely carried
+to their logical extreme.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Leonardo retained certain primitive qualities. He seldom
+reduced his compositions to dense arrangements of the figures,
+loving to allow elbow room and delighting to open up landscape
+backgrounds. And while in the “Treatise on Painting”
+he advocated elaborately balanced and counterpoised poses,
+in practice he usually sought an excuse for them in action. A
+consummate stylist, he achieved style on a basis of function.
+The pose, in his own words, must express “the emotions of
+the soul.” Right here his ablest followers took issue with him.
+Posture with them no longer expressed specific or individual
+emotion, but abstract beauties of grace, dignity or grandeur.
+The figures no longer do or feel anything, they are arranged
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>as the general composition and mood of the picture require.
+Such gradual advance towards pure style heralds the advent
+of the High Renaissance.</p>
+
+<div id='f_159'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_159.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 159.</span> Fra Bartolommeo. God appearing to two Saints.—<em>Lucca.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of the somewhat stolid and occasionally sentimental sublimity
+of Fra Bartolommeo<a id='r57'></a><a href='#f57' class='c012'><sup>[57]</sup></a>
+nothing much need be said except
+that it was a formative influence
+on young Raphael. The Dominican
+monk is an impressive and
+amiable figure personally. Working
+solely for the glory of God
+and the profit of the Convent
+of San Marco, perturbed by the
+tragic fate of his cloister mate,
+Savonarola, he strove incessantly
+for a fuller color and a greater
+dignity. In his numerous Holy
+Families he is stately in a conventional
+way, nowhere more so
+than in the unfinished design for
+a Madonna with St. Ann, in the
+Uffizi. Occasionally, in such pictures
+as the Deposition of the Uffizi, and the Madonna of
+Pity at Lucca he achieves poignant, one is tempted to say
+operatic effects, forecasting the mood of the Baroque. Lucca
+also affords in the great picture God Adored by Two Saints,
+Figure <a href='#f_159'>159</a>, a fine example of this painter’s simple and massive
+compositions. In the fresco of The Last Judgment, which,
+being ruined, is better represented by Copies, Figure <a href='#f_160'>160</a>, we
+find an elaboration, in Leonardo’s sense, of the simple symmetries
+of Perugino. It is the precedent for Raphael’s monumental
+frescoes at Rome. His short career, from about 1495
+to 1517, fell on evil times for Florence. In happier days he
+might have harmonized more perfectly the stylist and the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>lyrical dramatist that, as it was, never quite came to terms in
+his grave and noble personality. Yet to have mediated between
+Leonardo and Raphael would seem glory enough for
+any painter, and it was also no
+slight service to borrow for Florentine
+painting, rapidly becoming
+starved of color, something
+of the colorful richness of Giovanni
+Bellini and Giorgione.</p>
+
+<div id='f_160'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_160.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 160.</span> Fra Bartolommeo. Copy of Lost Fresco of Last Judgment.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>“The Perfect Painter” was
+what the Florentines called
+Andrea del Sarto,<a id='r58'></a><a href='#f58' class='c012'><sup>[58]</sup></a> and he merited
+the title. He produced no
+masterpiece of the first order,
+but his Work is singularly uniform
+on a high level. Its chief qualities are dignity and grace
+with a great richness of color. The deep shadows are warm
+and full of dusky light, the stylistic
+poses of the figures always
+easy, and the weaving of the
+complicated groupings ever tasteful
+and harmonious. To the refractory
+art of fresco painting
+Andrea brought a richness, depth
+and variety of color that others
+hardly attained in oil painting.
+Only Luini in the north came
+near him in this regard. In short
+he is a consummate technician,
+carrying his art as far as skill
+and taste unillumined by sheer
+genius will reach.</p>
+
+<div id='f_161'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_161.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 161.</span> Andrea del Sarto. Birth.—<em>Annunziata.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Little of his excellence can be laid to his early training.
+Before 1500 he was working with Piero di Cosimo, and Andrea’s
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>youthful frescoes of the miracles of S. Filippo Benizzi, in the
+fore-court of the Annunziata, show the loose and animated
+arrangements and the exaggeration of picturesque landscape
+features characteristic of his master. But Andrea learned
+rather of the time-spirit than of any other master. By 1514
+his art is complete and one may see its flowering in the frescoes
+of the Birth of the Virgin, Figure <a href='#f_161'>161</a>, and the Madonna of
+the Sack, Figure <a href='#f_162'>162</a>, respectively in the fore-court and in the
+cloister of the Annunziata. It is a sumptuous and grave kind
+of design redeemed from heaviness by its exquisite balance of
+color masses, and from conventionality by the hint of portraiture
+in the artfully disposed figures.</p>
+
+<div id='f_162'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_162.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 162.</span> Andrea del Sarto. Madonna of the Sack.—<em>Annunziata.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Scores of times Andrea repeats these perfections in the
+great altar-backs required for the new Renaissance chapels.
+The Four Saints in the Pitti, the Madonna of the Harpies in
+the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_162a'>162a</a>, the Enthroned Madonna at Berlin may
+serve among many to illustrate his accomplishment in this new
+vein. Somewhat reminiscent of the heavier monumentality
+of Fra Bartolommeo, these great pictures add a personal and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>disquieting note from the presence of the moody, handsome
+wife, Lucrezia whose caprices and infidelities are the tragic
+element in an otherwise even life.</p>
+
+<div id='f_162a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_162a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 162</span><em>a.</em> Andrea del Sarto. Madonna of the Harpies.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Andrea in his later years won new glories but added no new
+note to his art. The monochrome frescoes in the Cloister of
+the Scalzo representing the Life of St. John Baptist merely
+show the old gravity somewhat exaggerated. The series which
+extended over many years (1515–1526) is uneven, and many
+of these perhaps overestimated compositions are plainly
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>of student execution. Without his color, Andrea seems somewhat
+coldly academic. It was precisely this quality of stylistic
+grandeur, however, that appealed paradoxically to the romantic
+monarch, Francis I. He called Andrea to France in 1518
+and kept him there in honor for a year. Had Andrea possessed
+any of the capacities of a teacher and theorist, he might have
+inaugurated the Renaissance in France. As it was he remained
+merely a harbinger of such inferior but more influential spirits
+as Il Rosso and Primaticcio who a few years later were to
+found the School of Fontainebleau.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Often the portfolios of a great technician are more thrilling
+than his major works. This is the case with Andrea del
+Sarto. His numerous sketches in red chalk, have an athletic
+charm which his painting lacks. Others have drawn differently
+in this medium, but no one has drawn better.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>When Andrea died in 1531, “full of glory and domestic
+trials,” as Vasari recounts, the normal development of Florentine
+painting ended, and Florence had already seen her artistic
+star dimmed by the rising splendors of Venice and Rome.
+Artistically she became a city of wit and ingenuity, chronicling
+and criticizing art rather than producing it. Moreover the
+obsession of Michelangelo’s sublimity worked havoc with his
+dilettante imitators. Some of these have the grace of lucidity,
+like Agnolo Bronzino, who (1502–1572)<a id='r59'></a><a href='#f59' class='c012'><sup>[59]</sup></a> practiced a reactionary
+sort of portraiture based on the old tradition of tempera painting.
+In sheer beauty of surface, enamel one is tempted to call it,
+he is little inferior to his great German contemporary, Hans
+Holbein, and his sense of character is only less keen because less
+individual. In the haughty patricians surrounding the person
+of Cosimo, the first grandduke, he found congenial sitters,
+Figure <a href='#f_163'>163</a>. In the narrow field of portraiture he is nearly in
+the first rank, while in his rare mythologies and religious
+pictures his limitations appear painfully. He was a vicious
+person, a cold æsthete, with few of the generous virtues that
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>nourish the soul. Yet in his flinty way he was quite perfect,
+and as one of the first professionally unmoral artists he cannot
+be neglected by the psychological critic.</p>
+
+<div id='f_164'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_164.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 164.</span> Pontormo. The Deposition.—<em>S. Felice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A more appealing figure is his
+master, Jacopo Carrucci, called
+from his birthplace Il Pontormo.<a id='r60'></a><a href='#f60' class='c012'><sup>[60]</sup></a>
+His was a tender and deeply
+religious spirit with the poet’s
+capacity for elation and melancholy.
+In his altar-pieces, such
+as the Deposition, Figure <a href='#f_164'>164</a>, at
+San Felice he seeks and achieves
+a positive pathos. Influenced by
+Michelangelo’s sublimity, he converts
+it to more specific and
+psychological ends. Often he is
+restless and over-emphatic as in
+the frescoes of the Passion in the
+cloister of the Florentine Certosa,
+or in the strangely complicated
+and contorted little picture of
+the Martyrdom of St. Mauritius and his Legionaries, in the
+Uffizi. In such work he moves towards the absolute expressionism
+of an El Greco, preluding also the more conventional
+emotionalism of the Baroque. As a portraitist he had no
+equal at Florence except his pupil Bronzino. Often the sensitiveness
+and moodiness of his characterizations recall his
+Venetic contemporary, Lorenzo Lotto. Even when he is robust
+he is sensitively psychological, as in the superb portrait of a
+Halberdier, Figure <a href='#f_165'>165</a>. Above all he was a powerful and
+subtle draughtsman whether with pen or chalk. His line writhes
+in a fashion at times sinister, at times singularly blithe, and
+his figure sketches have something of the imaginative thrill
+of the figure studies of Blake. For the grandducal palace of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>Poggio a Cajano, Figure <a href='#f_166'>166</a>, he did in a huge lunette pierced
+by a great round window a most original decoration for the
+odd triangles at the base. The unconventional fields are
+filled each by a rather small figure energetically posed and
+surrounded by greenery. The thing is at once monumental and
+pastoral and its freedom and tonality almost as modern as a
+Besnard. I would willingly dwell longer on so sympathetic an
+artist, but can only refer the interested reader to Dr. F. M.
+Clapp’s two authoritative volumes.</p>
+
+<div id='f_163'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_163.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 163.</span> Bronzino. Eleonora of Toledo and her son.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_165'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_165.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 165.</span> Pontormo. The Halberdier.—<em>C. C. Stillman, N. Y.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For a century and more after Pontormo’s death in 1556
+there are still occasional artists of talent at Florence, but there
+is no longer a Florentine school. The masterpieces of Michelangelo
+were at Rome, those of Raphael widely scattered.
+Conscious of her decline, Florence begins to import artists—the
+Flemish portraitist, Sustermans; the Venetian decorator,
+Luca Giordano. One of her own abler painters, Francesco
+Salviati, attaches himself to the Venetian manner. Being an
+academic city, Florence eschews the rugged naturalism of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>Caravaggio, but has no longer vitality enough to find a substitute
+of her own. In the late sixteenth century her fresco
+painting sinks to the pompous emptiness represented by Giorgio
+Vasari, or by the hardly better mythologies of the brothers
+Federigo and Taddeo Zuccaro. In the seventeenth century
+she still can produce an idyllist of great romantic and sensuous
+charm in a Francesco Furini and a genial illustrator in a Giovanni
+di San Giovanni. But such names only suggest the
+incoherence of the times. Florence is no longer a main current
+but an eddy, and what small flood-tide still runs courses in the
+more resolute academism of Bologna, which is to be capable
+of inspiring a Poussin; and in the raw naturalism of Naples,
+which is about to give lessons to a Velasquez.</p>
+
+<div id='f_166'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_166.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 166.</span> Pontormo. Frescoed Lunette.—<em>Poggio a Cajano.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER V</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Poetry and Painting in the Renaissance</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Reversing the maxim <i><span lang="la">ut pictura poesis</span></i>, the Renaissance believed
+that painting should be poetical. Indeed the term <i><span lang="it">poesia</span></i> is commonly
+applied to all painting of a mythological or idyllic sort. Angelo Poliziano’s
+unfinished but very popular poem on the joust of 1468 is lavish
+in descriptions, of which the painters made use. Botticelli surely got
+more than a hint for the Birth of Venus from stanzas xcix-ci of <cite>La
+Giostra</cite>, though the mood of the picture is wholly Sandro’s own and
+unlike the pagan joyousness of Poliziano.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in28'>“One saw</div>
+      <div class='line'>Born in the sea, free and joyous in her acts,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A damsel with divine visage</div>
+      <div class='line'>Driven ashore by the ardent zephyrs</div>
+      <div class='line'>Balancing on a shell; and it seemed the heavens rejoiced thereat.”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“True the foam and true the sea you would have said</div>
+      <div class='line'>True the shell, and the blowing of the winds true.</div>
+      <div class='line'>You would have seen the gleam of the Goddess’ eye</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the heavens laugh about her, and the elements.</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the Hours in white garments on the strand,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the winds toss their spreading soft locks.”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>       ·       ·       ·       ·       ·</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“You could swear that you could see the goddess coming from the waves</div>
+      <div class='line'>Wringing out her hair with her right hand</div>
+      <div class='line'>And with the left covering the sweet mount of desire,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the sand, once trodden by her feet,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Clothing itself with grass and flowers.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Then with joyous and expectant glance</div>
+      <div class='line'>You would have seen her clasped by the three nymphs</div>
+      <div class='line'>And wrapped in a starry robe.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c019'>Botticelli’s charming and even slyly humorous picture of Venus
+with sleeping Mars, at London, follows afar and discreetly <cite>La Giostra</cite>, I.
+stanzas cxxii-iii, but Botticelli has taken the motive out of doors and
+otherwise considerably subtilized it. Venus is</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>“Seated in bed outside the covers</div>
+      <div class='line'>Just released from the arms of Mars</div>
+      <div class='line'>Who, lies backward on her lap</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>       ·       ·       ·       ·       ·</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Above them and around the tiny loves</div>
+      <div class='line'>Played naked, flying now here now there</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>       ·       ·       ·       ·       ·</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“One fills the quiver with fresh flowers</div>
+      <div class='line'>Then comes and empties it on the bed.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c019'>Poliziano also supplied to Raphael the theme of the Galatea, in the
+Farnesina, <cite>Giostra</cite>, I. cxviii (Fig. <a href='#f_192a'>192a</a>)</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Two shapely dolphins draw a car;</div>
+      <div class='line'>On it is Galatea who holds the reins,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And they swimming breathe with equal breath.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Around circle the more amorous throng.</div>
+      <div class='line'>One spits out the salt wave, the others circle round;</div>
+      <div class='line'>One seems to play at love and dallies.</div>
+      <div class='line'>The fair nymph with her trusted sisters</div>
+      <div class='line'>Laughs charmingly at their hoarse singing.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c019'>Titian, too, may have had in mind the <cite>Giostra</cite>, I. cxi, when he composed
+his Bacchus and Ariadne. (Fig. <a href='#f_260'>260</a>)</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Comes upon a car covered with ivy and rushes</div>
+      <div class='line'>Drawn by two tigers—Bacchus</div>
+      <div class='line'>And with him it seems that fauns and mænads</div>
+      <div class='line'>Tread the deep sand and shout with raised voices.</div>
+      <div class='line'>One we see staggering; others seem to stumble,</div>
+      <div class='line'>One clashes the cymbal; others seem to laugh.</div>
+      <div class='line'>One drinks from a horn, one from his hand.</div>
+      <div class='line'>One has grabbed a nymph, and one turns handsprings.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Leonardo and the Academic Idea of Painting</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>The extraordinary mixture of liberality and dogmatism, of naturalism
+and taste in Leonardo is best illustrated from his own <cite>Trattato
+della Pittura</cite>. I quote from the standard edition of H. Ludwig, Vienna,
+1882, using his paragraph numbers:</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Modelling in Chiaroscuro as the Painter’s First Object</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 412. “The first object of the painter is to make a flat plane appear
+as a body in relief and projecting from that plane, and he who in such
+art excels the others, deserves the greater praise, and such research, or
+rather crown of such science, is born from light and shade, or I mean
+chiaroscuro. Then he who flees from shadows, flees also from the glory
+of our art among noble spirits and gains it with the ignorant herd, which
+desires nothing in painting but beauty of colors, forgetting entirely the
+beauty and wonder of showing a flat thing as if it were in relief.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Judging a Painter’s Work</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 483. “The first thing is that you consider the figures, if they have
+the relief which the place and light demand....</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“The second is that the scattering, or rather distribution of the
+figures be made according to the way in which you wish the story to
+be.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“The third is that the figures be alert and intent on their particular
+purpose.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On the Movements that Mark the Emotions</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 122. “The most important thing which can be found in the theory
+of painting are the movements appropriate to the mental state of each
+being,—as desire, scorn, wrath, pity and the like.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>The Steps in a Painter’s Education</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 82. “Draw first designs of a good master made in the fashion of
+nature and not mannered; then from a relief, in the presence of a drawing
+made from that relief; then from a good natural object.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Judgment versus Dexterity</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 62. “That painter who does not doubt learns little. When the
+work surpasses the judgment of the worker, that worker acquires little,
+and when the judgment surpasses the work, that work never ceases to
+grow better, unless avarice prevents it.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Use of Memory in the Night Watches</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 67. “Also I have proved it to be of no little use to me, when you
+find yourself in bed in the dark, to repeat in the imagination the things
+studied earlier, or other things of notable sort comprised in subtle
+thought, and this is truly a laudable act and useful in fixing things in
+memory.”</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Selective Imitation</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 58a. “The painter should be solitary and think over what he sees
+and discuss with himself, selecting the most excellent parts of the
+species of whatever he sees, acting after the fashion of a mirror which
+transmutes into as many colors as there are things what is set before
+it. And so doing he will seem to be himself a second nature.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>¶ 98. “Winter evenings should be used by young painters in the
+study of things prepared in summer, that is bring together all the
+nudes which you have made in the summer, and make a choice of the
+better limbs and bodies and practice from them and fix them in
+mind.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On High Standards</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 59. “If you painter will seek to please the first painters, you will
+make your pictures well, because they alone can guide you truthfully,
+but if you wish to please those who are not masters, your pictures will
+have few foreshortenings and little relief or alert movement, and thereby
+you will fail in that part in which painting is held to be an excellent
+art, that is in giving an effect of relief where there is nothing in relief.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Avoiding Harsh Shadows and Sunlight Effects</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 87. “The light cut off from the shade too clearly is greatly blamed
+by painters. Hence to avoid such a fault, if you paint bodies in the
+open country, you will not make the figures as lighted by the sun, but
+imagine some sort of mist or transparent clouds to be interposed between
+the object and the sun, whence, since the figure is not emphasized
+by the sunlight, the demarcations of light and shade will not
+be emphasized.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On the Most Pleasing Light</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 138. “If you have a court yard that can be covered as you wish
+with a linen awning, that will be a good light; or when you wish to draw
+anyone, draw him in bad weather, towards nightfall, and make the sitter
+stand with his back to one of the walls of this court. In the streets
+set your mind towards nightfall on the faces of the men and women,
+in bad weather, how much grace and sweetness appears in them.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Counterpoise of the Figure</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 88. “Do not have the head turned the way the breast is, nor the
+arm the way the leg is; and if the head is turned over the right shoulder
+make the parts lower on the left than on the right” [and vice versa].</p>
+
+<p class='c019'><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>At first blush this stylistic counsel flatly contradicts Leonardo’s
+principle that poses and emotions should express state of mind, but
+as a matter of fact many expressive movements obey this law of counterpoise
+or active equilibrium. Leonardo himself generally finds motives
+for such poses. Such successors as Raphael and Andrea del Sarto
+habitually used such poses without other excuse than that of their own
+inherent gracefulness.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Freedom in Making a Composition</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 189. “Have you never considered the poets composing their verses?
+They take no trouble to make fine letters, nor do they mind cancelling
+some of the verses and making them better. Do you, then, painter,
+make the limbs of your figures roughly and attend first to the movements
+appropriate to the mental state of the beings composing your
+story, rather than to the beauty and rightness of their members, because
+you must understand that if such a composition in the rough
+will meet the needs of the invention, it will please all the more after it
+has been adorned with the perfection appropriate to all its parts. I
+have seen in the clouds and spots on the wall what has aroused me
+to fine inventions of various things, since these spots though entirely
+without perfection in any part, did not lack perfection in their movements
+and other actions.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Painting the Grandchild of Nature</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 12. “If you shall despise painting, which is the only imitator of
+all the apparent works of nature, assuredly you will despise also that
+careful investigation which with philosophical and careful speculation
+considers all the qualities of forms: the sea, place, plants, animals,
+herbage, flowers, which are enveloped in light and shade. And truly
+this speculation is science and the legitimate child of Nature, since
+painting is born of this nature. But, to speak more correctly, we will
+say grandchild of nature, since all apparent things are born of Nature,
+of which things painting is born. Hence rightly we shall call it the
+grandchild of this nature and the kinsman of God.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>That the Painter Should be Solitary</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>¶ 50. “The painter, or rather designer, should be solitary, and
+especially when he is intent on speculations and considerations which
+continually appearing before the eyes give matter to be well kept in
+memory. And if you are alone, you will be entirely yours. And
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>if you shall be accompanied by a single companion you will
+be half yours, and so much the less as the indiscretion of your companionship
+shall be the greater&#160;... And if you would say ‘I will do
+in my fashion, I will hold myself apart’&#160;... one cannot serve two
+masters. You will fulfil badly the duty of a companion, and worse
+the aim of reasoning on the art&#160;... And if you say ‘I will withdraw
+myself entirely,’&#160;... I tell you you will be held a madman, but, lo,
+thus doing you will at least be alone.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Here Leonardo takes sharpest issue with the easy-going sociable
+methods which for generations had held in the painter’s bottega, and
+shows himself an individualist of modern type.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Rubens’ Praise of Leonardo</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Peter Paul Rubens, who had copied Leonardo’s battle-piece, has left
+the following perceptive tribute to the genius of his predecessor:</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Nothing escaped him that related to the expression of his subject:
+and by the heat of his fancy, as well as by the solidity of his judgment,
+he raised divine things by human, and understood how to give men
+those different degrees, that elevate them to the character of heroes.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“The best of the examples which he has left us is our Lord’s Supper,
+which he painted at Milan, wherein he has represented the apostles in
+places that suit with them, and our Saviour in the most honourable,
+the midst of all, having nobody near enough to press or incommode him.
+His attitude is grand, his arms are in a loose and free posture, to show
+the greater grandeur, while the apostles appear agitated one side to the
+other by the vehemence of their inquietude, and in which there is,
+however, no meanness, nor any indecent action to be seen. In short
+by his profound speculations he arrived to such a degree of perfection,
+that it seems to me impossible to speak so well of him as he deserves,
+and much more to imitate him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'><cite>The Art of Painting&#160;... Translated from the French of Monsieur
+De Piles</cite>, London about 1725. p. 107 f.</p>
+
+<div id='f_167'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>
+<img src='images/f_167.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 167.</span> Raphael. Count Baldassare Castiglione, author of “the Courtier.”—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter VI</span></span><br> THE GOLDEN AGE<br> <span class='large'>RAPHAEL AND MICHELANGELO</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>On pride and humility in Art—The new Grand Style defined—Umbrian
+humility in the Early Painters—Gentile da Fabriano—The Fifteenth
+Century—Luca Signorelli—Perugino—Raphael; Early development—Roman
+triumph—Michelangelesque aberrations—Michelangelo.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Whether the greatest art is grounded in pride or in humility
+has divided the critics. To most it will seem evident that
+the artist’s assertion of his own powers is an act of pride—a
+pride of person which is often reinforced by that of nation
+and race. As fine a critic as John Ruskin, on the contrary,
+has insisted that the greatest art springs from humility—reverence
+for God, admiration of His works in nature, homage
+also to one’s earthly master in art and withal to the great tradition
+of one’s craft. The difference is world-wide. According
+to one interpretation or the other, the work of art becomes
+an act of display or of worship. Such opposites in the realm
+of analysis often meet comfortably enough in the realm of
+practice. A haughty individualist like Leonardo da Vinci
+insists that his investigations of appearance and reality lead
+to that knowledge of God without which love is impossible.
+And the Golden Age of painting itself, though mostly based
+on corporate and individual pride, has also its infusion of
+humility. If Michelangelo represents the flowering of three
+generations of research, of that pride of intellect which ever
+ruled Florence, so equally does Raphael represent many generations
+of humility and teachableness in his native Umbria.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>For about ten years pride and humility worked side by side,
+and that was the Golden Age. Pride prevailed over humility,
+and the classical style of Central Italy sunk to a pretentious
+exhibitionism.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Our theme is that brief moment of accomplishment which
+witnessed the rise of Rome as centre of art, and the greatest
+painting of Raphael and Michelangelo. We need not hesitate
+to apply to it the oldfashioned term, the Golden Age.
+But we shall not use it with quite the oldfashioned unction,
+knowing as we do the heavy sacrifice involved in attaining
+the so-called Grand Style, and the still heavier penalty it imposed
+upon the art that succeeded it.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Florentines believed that painting had reached its
+height in the years 1504 and 1505, when Leonardo da Vinci
+and Michelangelo were designing the great competitive battle-pieces
+for the Priors’ Palace at Florence, and Raphael was
+painting his loveliest Madonnas. Modern critics might rather
+be inclined to date the grand climacteric from a pathetic incident
+of a few years later. In 1508, when Pope Julius II
+wished to decorate the new ante-rooms of the Vatican, the
+famous <i><span lang="de">Stanze</span></i> he called the best of the older painters—Sodoma,
+Perugino, Signorelli, among others. No sooner had
+they begun to decorate the vaults than their work seemed
+inadequate. They were turned off incontinently and the young
+man Raphael called down from Florence to take their place.
+The incident shows how suddenly the new beauty dawned
+upon the world of art patronage. Vividly conscious of its
+advent, the Italians were less conscious of the equally sudden
+waning of the great style. With the wisdom of hindsight
+we can now see that the whole development was a marvelous
+spurt, lasting a bare dozen years, from the battle cartoons
+of 1505 to Raphael’s tapestry cartoons of 1516. Raphael
+and Michelangelo, who created the lasting glory of the Renaissance,
+also dug its grave. Before considering the creative
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>and destructive energies of these two giants, we may profitably
+note the characteristics of what whether for praise or
+mockery has ever since been called the Grand Style. And
+here I have little to do beyond condensing Professor Wölfflin’s
+excellent book.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the Grand Style the accent was on maturity, decorum,
+and measured power. Vivacious and picturesque incidents
+are eschewed. The new art demands simplicity and centrality.
+The human figure dominates the compositions. The frame is
+filled densely with a complicated group. The figures themselves
+are ample and mature. The Madonna is no longer a
+girl, but a gracious woman of thirty years. The Christ Child
+is no longer an infant, but a well-grown lad, whose supple
+curves harmonize with those of grown folks. As to pose, the
+figures no longer are casually arranged or in some posture required
+by a specific action. They are cast in conventional
+poses which bring out the active beauty of the body. Heads
+swing across shoulders, the upper body turns against the
+thrust of the lower, the arms counter the action of the legs.
+Such counterpoise is always active, implying motion. Straight
+lines give way to weavings of S curves—so many springs
+whose tension is kept equal. Violent motion or torsion of the
+body is frequent, but one motion or torsion must be immediately
+taken up and balanced by some equivalent. Following
+the general principle of centrality, colors are fewer and more
+studied. In portraiture, for example, we no longer have landscape
+or elaborate interiors, but plain dark backgrounds. At
+all points we have left spontaneity and happy accident behind
+and have entered a world of exquisite calculation. Society
+had moved with art towards ideals of simplicity and decorum.
+You no longer find the braided, beribboned and jewelled coiffures
+of Botticelli’s women, but serene brows with the hair
+drawn back evenly from its part and disposed as a mass in a
+net. Young gallants wear their abundant locks much the same
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>way and sport seignorial spade beards. Old men are even
+more magnificently provided with beards of monumental
+scale. Such men are clothed no longer in parti-colored raiment,
+but in richly sober black. The ideal is dignity, composure,
+and magnanimity. You may trace it through all its intricacies
+of casuistry in what is still one of the best pictures of what a
+gentleman and lady should be, the <cite>Cortegiano</cite> of Baldassare
+Castiglione. It was finished in 1516 while his friend Raphael
+was designing the tapestry cartoons. And you may read much
+of this high teaching in Count Castiglione’s own sensitive and
+comprehending face, Figure <a href='#f_167'>167</a>, as Raphael then painted it.
+It breathes that fine interplay of pride and humility which
+was the mainspring of the Renaissance, and it brings us back
+to the double origin of the Grand Style in the pride of Florence
+and the humility of Umbria.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Umbria in the narrow sense includes only the lovely stretches
+of the upper Tiber, and the rolling banks of Lakes Trasimene
+and Bolsena. But all the way over the mountains to the
+Adriatic the civilization was of a similar type, and so the art.
+Thus we may reckon the Adriatic Marches from Ancona to
+Ravenna as Umbrian from the point of view of the historian
+of painting. There were no great cities and little commerce.
+It is a region of small hill-top communes within the walls of
+which the peasants huddled for protection at night, going
+down to the fields in the day. It was a country of hot passions
+and violent feuds, and equally of religious enthusiasm and
+mystical piety. Great heresies had swept the land and so had
+the joyous and practical Christianity of St. Francis, greatest of
+Umbria’s sons. We have much of the volatility that we noted
+in Siena, without, however, a capital city to centralize it, and
+we also have what Siena lacked—an abiding and beautiful
+humility. Umbria knew her provincial estate and accepted its
+limitations.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Nowhere is this more plainly shown than in her art. For
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>two centuries she was in the position of inducing foreign
+artists to come in, ever in an attitude of admiration and docility.
+Thus Giunta of Pisa, Cimabue and his Roman contemporaries;
+Giotto and his Florentine pupils; Simone Martini
+and other Sienese painters decorated the chief monument of
+Umbria, the Basilica of St. Francis at Assisi. Their work
+extended over a century to say 1330. Later still Sienese artists
+were employed at Perugia, among others, Taddeo Bartoli, and
+the region promised to become an artistic dependency of
+Siena. But with the dawning of the Renaissance and the
+extension of Florentine power beyond Arezzo, Florentine artists
+are preferred. We find Domenico Veneziano at Perugia,
+in 1438, in the pay of the ruling Baglioni. A little earlier Fra
+Angelico had painted for several years at Cortona. In the
+early fifties Benozzo Gozzoli painted his Franciscan frescoes at
+Montefalco, and was otherwise active in the Tiber valley. In
+1468 Fra Filippo Lippi was called to Spoleto. Soon after,
+Umbria learned to depend on her own artists. In the Adriatic
+Marches there had been a limited penetration of Giotto’s
+style, chiefly by way of Padua and Rimini. By the end of the
+century the Lorenzettian manner dominated. It was succeeded
+by the influence of the Venetian Renaissance as exemplified
+by such rather backward artists as the Vivarini and Carlo
+Crivelli. Still later the diffused influence of Giovanni Bellini
+meets harmoniously that of Perugino.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Thus in humility and teachableness Umbria very slowly,
+and through most various stages of discipleship, worked out
+her own originality. And when it came one felt deeply in it
+the teaching of her spacious intervals and blue mountains.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It is so with the first notable painter that Umbria produced,
+Gentile da Fabriano.<a id='r61'></a><a href='#f61' class='c012'><sup>[61]</sup></a> He felt landscape as no artist before
+him. Born about 1360, he was trained by his fellow townsman,
+Alegretto Nuzi. Alegretto had made sound studies at Florence
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>and had also observed with admiration the pictures of the
+Lorenzetti. His own altar-pieces have the Sienese splendor
+with a touch of sweetness that is wholly Umbrian. His pupil
+Gentile prefers more ornate and florid compositions such as we
+see in his early Coronation of the Virgin at Milan. Soon
+Gentile gave himself to the panoramic narrative style, outdoing
+the Lorenzetti in elaboration, vivacity, and gracefulness.
+Superficially he resembles such Florentine contemporaries as
+Lorenzo Monaco and Masolino, but his mood is broader and
+more genial, and his decorative accent more splendid. Before
+1410 he was called to Venice to paint in the new Ducal Palace.
+His animated historical frescoes were soon destroyed by fire,
+but his sojourn was long enough to impress his manner, through
+his pupil Jacopo, Bellini, and numerous imitators, on the Venetian
+narrative school.</p>
+
+<div id='f_168'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_168.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 168.</span> Gentile da Fabriano. Adoration of the Magi.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_169'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>
+<img src='images/f_169.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 169.</span> Gentile da Fabriano. The Nativity. Predella piece from Adoration of Magi.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Passing to Florence, he left there the fullest expression of
+his gracious talent in the resplendent Adoration of the Kings,
+Figure <a href='#f_168'>168</a>, now in the Uffizi, which was painted for Palla
+Strozzi’s chapel in the Trinità. It was signed in May 1423,
+and perhaps because it was the season of flowers, Gentile
+painted in the rich pilasters growing sprays of morning glory,
+iris, anemone, and cornflower. Within its fantastic Gothic
+frame we witness a pageant such as Italy often saw on holy
+days—the procession of the Wise man moving through her
+streets. Around the Mother and her Child devotion reigns,
+but soon the scene passes off into the tumult of waiting men-at-arms,
+of chafing steeds, and snarling animals of the chase.
+The color is a radiance of scarlet, crimson, azure and gold,
+after the Gothic fashion. But the picture is more than Gothic
+in the tender and almost atmospheric shading of the rolling
+hills in the background. Skilfully blending Sienese idealism
+with narrative breadth and vivacity, the picture is the last
+and most magnificent memorial to a chivalry now merely an
+afterglow, but dying with all the iridescence of the sunset hour.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>As is usually the case, the modern contribution of the picture
+is modestly made in the <i><span lang="it">predella</span></i> panels. The Nativity,
+Figure <a href='#f_169'>169</a>, with the light radiating tenderly from the Christ
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>Child and golden stars glimmering above the hill-top pastures
+is perhaps the first nocturne in art, and still one of the
+loveliest. The Flight into Egypt, shows a joyous sunrise
+creeping over the glad hills. The means are conventional,
+the highlights are touched in
+with gold, but the mood and
+effect are there. Young Masaccio
+surely considered these little
+panels before he undertook his
+more naturalistic adventure in
+structural light and shade.</p>
+
+<div id='f_170'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_170.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 170.</span> Andrea da Bologna. Madonna of Humility.—<em>Cleveland.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Soon Pope Martin V, returning
+from exile at Avignon and planning
+to restore the splendors of
+Christian Rome, called Gentile
+and set him to decorating the
+nave of St. John Lateran. Again
+fire has deprived us of the monumental
+works which constituted
+Gentile’s contemporary fame. We
+know that they won the praise of
+the greatest Flemish painter who
+visited Renaissance Italy, Rogier
+de la Pasture of Tournai. And
+two generations later crabbed
+Michelangelo declared almost sentimentally that Gentile was
+gentle both by name and by nature. For us it is important to
+note that Gentile forecast precisely the future triumphs of
+Raphael, carrying the glory of Umbrian painting widely
+through Italy before asserting it at Rome.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of course such work as Gentile’s was highly exceptional in
+the Umbrian Marches. The average state of things is represented
+by the shy and humble Madonnas which Francescuccio
+Ghisi repeated indefinitely. This type of Madonna of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>Humility is nowhere more delightfully represented than in the
+lovely panel at the Cleveland Museum, Figure <a href='#f_170'>170</a>, for which
+I have elsewhere suggested the attribution of Andrea da
+Bologna.<a id='r62'></a><a href='#f62' class='c012'><sup>[62]</sup></a> She is most unlike the majestic Madonnas of Florence
+and Siena. To assure us that this gentle Mother is after
+all Queen of Heaven and the Second Eve come for our salvation,
+the artist has given her a resplendent aureole with tiny
+miniatures of her champions, the apostles, and has stretched
+at her feet that First Eve in whom we all sinned. The picture
+will have been painted before 1380, and, with its Byzantine
+reminiscences, it well exemplifies the mediævalism that held
+its own in the Adriatic Marches long after Tuscany had set
+her face towards the Renaissance.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It would add little to our survey of Umbria to dwell on
+Ottaviano Nelli at Urbino, a gently vivacious story-teller;
+nor yet on those early painters at Camerino and San Severino
+who tinged the softer native style with the splendid severity
+of the early Venetian manner. I pass their works with regret,
+for they are often lovely in their frank dependence on greater
+spirits. In a general survey the middle years of the fifteenth
+century in Umbria show rather little to attract us until the
+rise of Pietro Perugino. He emerges in an artistic world dominated
+in the Tiber Valley by the Florentine, Gozzoli, and beyond
+the mountains by Carlo Crivelli and the Vivarini. Such
+predecessor of Perugino as Benedetto Bonfigli of Perugia need
+not detain us. He had learned a little, a very little, from the
+Florentine, Domenico Veneziano, paints Madonnas with a
+modest ideality; and narratives, the life of St. Ercolano in
+the Communal Palace of Perugia, with abundant and muddled
+detail, after the fashion of Gozzoli and Domenico di Bartolo.
+His <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> was a factory of those quaint and often terrible
+religious banners, Figure <a href='#f_171'>171</a>, which the devout Umbrians
+carried processionally to avert the recurrent plague. We need
+not dwell upon Perugino’s alleged master, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>whose ugly and emphatic draughtsmanship derives from Verrocchio
+and the Pollaiuoli. We may best appreciate Perugino’s
+extraordinary originality by considering contemporaries who
+came up with equal advantages. Lorenzo di San Severino exemplifies
+the usual Umbrian blend of Gozzoli and Venetian
+influences. And in such a picture as the Enthroned Madonna,
+Figure <a href='#f_172'>172</a>, in the Holden Collection, at Cleveland, he attains
+an ideality of feeling and a beauty of workmanship of the most
+refreshing sort. This picture must have been painted about
+1490. It may represent the high mark reached in the Marches
+towards the end of the century—may thus dispense us from considering
+such inherently charming painters as Girolamo da
+Camerino and his fellow townsman Giovanni Boccatis.</p>
+
+<div id='f_171'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_171.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 171.</span> Bontigli Plague Banner. The Virgin protecting her Devotees from plague Shafts hurled by Christ.—<em>Chiesa del Gonfalone, Perugia.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_172'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_172.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 172.</span> Lorenzo di San Severino. Madonna and Saints.—<em>Cleveland, O.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>A very similar training produces more ambitious but hardly
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>more pleasing results in Niccolò Liberatore of Foligno, (1430 to
+1502). Early influenced by Gozzoli, he later aped the intensity
+of the Venetian, Carlo Crivelli. Niccolò thus chafes within
+the modest bounds proper to art in Umbria. He essays tragedy
+and too often achieves burlesque.
+He paints, like most of the Umbrians,
+processional banners, and
+also the most complicated altar-pieces,
+in which cusps, carving
+and pinnacles almost efface the
+Madonna and saints, who show
+a peasantlike uneasiness amid so
+much splendor. Such is the character
+of the triptych in the Vatican,
+which is dated 1466. It represents
+rather favorably Niccolò’s
+at once slender and ambitious
+talent.</p>
+
+<div id='f_173'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_173.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 173.</span> Melozzo da Forlì. Pope Sixtus IV and his Court. Fresco.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such obscure artists as we
+have been considering<a id='r63'></a><a href='#f63' class='c012'><sup>[63]</sup></a> could
+maintain the idealism out of
+which a Perugino should grow,
+could provide his spiritual background. They could do little
+to nurture him on the positive side. That task fell to men of
+greater power, who had saturated themselves with Florentine
+realism—Melozzo da Forlì<a id='r64'></a><a href='#f64' class='c012'><sup>[64]</sup></a> and Luca Signorelli. Both were
+pupils of that giant among Umbro-Florentines, Piero della
+Francesca. Melozzo was born in 1438 and early employed by
+the Dukes of Urbino. He practices an energetic draughtsmanship
+both in decoration and portraiture, indulges the boldest
+foreshortening, adds a positive athleticism to that pride of
+life which we have noted in more static form in his master.
+Thus his frescoes for the domes of the sacristy of the Santa
+Casa at Loreto, and the justly famous fragments of playing
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>angels from the demolished sacristy of old St. Peter’s at
+Rome reveal a strength and measured audacity which at once
+rival the contemporary effort of Mantegna at Mantua and
+forecast the more pagan exuberance of Mantegna’s greatest
+pupil, Correggio. This robust and masculine manner appears
+in a more restrained and traditional form in the superb fresco
+portraits of Pope Sixtus IV and his Court, Figure <a href='#f_173'>173</a>, in the
+Vatican. Such work transcends Umbrian standards.</p>
+
+<div id='f_174'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_174.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 174.</span> Luca Signorelli. Pan, God of Music.—<em>Berlin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Even more does the intense and rugged art of Melozzo’s
+fellow disciple, Luca Signorelli.<a id='r65'></a><a href='#f65' class='c012'><sup>[65]</sup></a> Born at Cortona in 1441, we
+know little of his early career except that he studied with Piero
+della Francesca, passed to Florence and was permanently
+swayed by the anatomical and passionate realism of Antonio
+Pollaiuolo. Signorelli’s early work is obscure to us. We may
+well study him first in the pastoral mythology, Pan, God of
+Harmony, Figure <a href='#f_174'>174</a>, now at Berlin. It was painted about
+1490 for the Medici, for the villa for which Botticelli designed
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>the Primavera and Birth of Venus. It is inferior to its companion
+pieces in imagination and delicacy, and particularly in
+color, but in its own measured way it echoes delightfully the
+poetic wistfulness of early Florentine humanism. Similar qualities
+of imagination are in the great fresco The Last Days of
+Moses, in the Sistine Chapel, painted in 1482 after his design.
+But the vein is exceptional in Signorelli. Soon he gave himself
+to a rugged realism, unpleasing
+in his religious themes. Meeting
+little favor in the great cities, he
+painted many altar-pieces for the
+Umbrian towns. These pictures
+are stern in spirit and leaden in
+color. There is no attempt to
+please. Relentlessly Signorelli
+pursued his personal quest of
+expressive anatomy. Legend tells
+us that, dry-eyed, he sketched
+the fair body of his own murdered
+son for the picture of the
+Entombment at Cortona. We
+see him introducing nude figures
+into the background of the round
+Madonna at the Uffizi, Figure
+<a href='#f_175'>175</a>. The experimentalist dominates the artist.</p>
+
+<div id='f_175'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_175.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 175.</span> Signorelli. Madonna.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the year 1500, being nearly sixty, he found the real use
+for his truculent art. He was called to paint in the Chapel of
+S. Brixio, in the Cathedral of Orvieto. The subject was the
+Last Judgment. More than fifty years earlier Fra Angelico
+had begun the work with angel choirs in the vaults. With a
+far different temper Signorelli continued the task. At the entrance
+and back of the Chapel he showed mankind scourged by
+the final plagues. In the four arched spaces at the sides he set
+The Preaching of Antichrist, a sinister scene detailed with all
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>the circumstantiality of the Early Renaissance. For the three
+remaining scenes, the Resurrection of the Dead, Figure <a href='#f_176'>176</a>,
+the Condemnation of the Sinful, Figure <a href='#f_177'>177</a>, and the Reward
+of the Just, he invented new modes both of interpretation and
+of composition. How far we are from the solemn assizes of
+Giotto or the garden and labyrinth motives of Fra Angelico!
+In every case we have in the lunette celestial figures, or at
+least supernal, while below we have swarming masses of nude
+folk, bewildered at the forgotten light, aspiring heavenwards
+or shrinking from the clutches of the fiends.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>What distinguishes these frescoes is a magnificently just
+matter-of-factness. Only one question is raised by the artist.
+Given the literal truth of the Book of Revelations, how would
+the last judgment look, and how would one feel if he were indeed
+there? So he reasons it out—the struggle of the skeletons
+to push up to the light, their reinvestiture successively
+with sinews, muscles and skin, the embarrassment as a half
+assembled body vainly seeks recognition. And all this he contrasts
+with the confident, strong bearing of the archangels
+above. Again in the Ascent of the Just to Heaven, the
+aspiration is chiefly physical, magnificently so. These clean
+strong bodies chiefly wish to escape the corruption from
+which the last trump has summoned them. And even the
+guardian angels are less tender than jubilant at the thought
+of fit recruits to replenish St. Michael’s celestial militia.
+Equally the damned wince, not from conscience, but from physical
+dread of the chains and claws and the imminence of the
+eternal fires.</p>
+
+<div id='f_176'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>
+<img src='images/f_176.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 176.</span> Luca Signorelli. The General Resurrection.—<em>Cathedral, Orvieto.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_177'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_177.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 177.</span> Luca Signorelli. The Souls of the Damned.—<em>Cathedral, Orvieto.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>This sturdy, upright art seems hardly Italian. The spirit of it
+is ruthless and Northern. It mitigates nothing, tells pretty
+much everything, presents the body in its ugliness, disregards
+obvious considerations of style. Yet as a successful blend of a
+vast technical experiment in anatomy with an honest and
+powerful effort of imagination, this is one of the most remarkable achievements of the Italian Renaissance. It has little
+of the Italian nobility, but it powerfully influenced those who
+had. Perugino and Raphael imitated Signorelli’s orderly arrangement
+of his scenes in a double, vertical order, and Michelangelo
+fed his dream of a heroic world of splendid nudity from
+the drastic visions of Signorelli. Over-rich and over-emphatic
+as Signorelli is, he is also an elemental, tonic power. No one is
+quite the same after a visit to the Chapel of S. Brixio.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>If Signorelli was the greatest character in Umbria before
+Raphael, Pietro Perugino was the finest intelligence and taste.
+He was born in 1446 at Città della Pieve and at nine years old
+was put with a poor Perugian painter. His early activity is
+matter only of ingenious conjecture.<a id='r66'></a><a href='#f66' class='c012'><sup>[66]</sup></a> There is an ambiguous
+range of pictures variously ascribed to him and to Fiorenzo di
+Lorenzo, a difficult and rather unimportant problem which I
+willingly let alone. What is certain is that in his early twenties
+Perugino was studying with Verrocchio at Florence alongside
+of Leonardo da Vinci. By 1481 and 1482 Perugino emerges
+artistically full-grown in the Sistine Chapel.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His superiority, as shown in the fresco of the Giving of the
+Keys to Peter, Figure <a href='#f_118'>118</a>, and in numerous works of his forty-two
+remaining years, is so uniform and almost monotonous that
+its greatness has until recently passed unnoticed. Only such
+critics as Mr. Berenson and Professor Wölfflin have done him
+full justice. He worked upon perfectly clear and conscious
+ideals of simplicity, symmetry, and spaciousness; in all of
+which he took issue with his times. Rejecting the picturesque
+richness and confusion of the Early Renaissance, he took
+counsel of the Byzantine painters and of Fra Angelico at San
+Marco. They taught him the worth of simple geometrical
+forms of figure composition, and how to sacrifice details to
+broad effects. That his groups disposed in simple pyramids,
+oblongs, or ovals should not seem too bare, he cunningly varied
+the positions of the figures, thus relieving the severity of the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>underlying symmetry. Every tilted head, pointed foot and
+swaying thigh has its precise compositional value. As for the
+figures, there is no strenuousness of draughtsmanship, they are
+simply good enough. A principle of artistic economy, alien to
+the spirit of the moment, rules here as elsewhere.</p>
+
+<div id='f_178'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_178.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 178.</span> Perugino. Mystical Crucifixion. Fresco.—<em>Santa Maria Maddalena de’ Pazzi. Florence.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>So far he appears as a critic and amender of the Early Renaissance
+style. His positive contribution was a particularly
+spacious and lovely sort of landscape, an immensity of light and
+air to set behind the restricted patterns of his figures. This
+landscape is a beautiful generalization of the scenery of the
+upper Tiber valley. The forms are few. Feathery trees mark
+the middle distance; a river valley opens gently with interlocking
+banks toward distant blue mountains. Above a silvery
+horizon, the heavens gradually deepen to an intense blue,
+accentuated by sparse floating clouds. There are few colors, a
+warm brown, a fresh green, a paler and a deeper blue, a variety
+of grays. With these simple means is attained a sense of
+infinite space and of encompassing peace.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>All these perfections are in the great frescoed Crucifixion
+Figure <a href='#f_178'>178</a>, in the convent of Santa Maria Maddelena dei
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>Pazzi, at Florence. The date is 1495, Perugino’s fifty-second
+year. The lyrical quietism of the effect rests on delicate evasions
+of the very formal symmetry. Such features as the
+tilted head of the Saint John and
+the three trees at the left balancing
+the Magdalen at the right
+of the cross are essential. Indeed
+any slight change either in the
+position of the figures or the lines
+of the landscape would produce
+a discord.</p>
+
+<div id='f_179'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_179.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 179.</span> Perugina. Enthroned Madonna.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We have a very similar effect
+with the addition of a stately and
+simple architecture in the enthroned
+Madonna of the Vatican.
+Figure <a href='#f_179'>179</a>. Again the formality
+of the pyramidal pattern is relieved
+by varied dispositions of the figures which individually
+considered may seem affected, but which are essential to the
+composition. More overtly emotional but still restrained is
+the Deposition, Figure <a href='#f_180a'>180a</a>, of the Uffizi Gallery. It is arranged
+as an oval with catenary internal curves, anticipating much
+more complicated patterns of Raphael. At this moment, 1494,
+no living artist but Leonardo could have woven this group together
+with such certainty of taste, and he could have hardly
+equalled its broad and serene landscape.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the first years of the new century Perugino decorated the
+merchants’ exchange of Perugia, the Cambio, with frescoes
+partly religious, partly moral and symbolical. The most
+famous represent the Virtues, Figure <a href='#f_180'>180</a>, in pairs, hovering
+in the heavens with their representatives below. For example,
+Prudence and Justice with the great law-givers. So Fortitude
+and Temperance are represented respectively by the venerable
+forms of brave Horatius, and Leonidas; of Cato and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>Cincinnatus. It seems that Perugino executed most of this
+latter decoration through assistants, and it has been suggested
+that Raphael is responsible both for the design and painting
+of the beautiful Sibyls.<a id='r67'></a><a href='#f67' class='c012'><sup>[67]</sup></a></p>
+
+<div id='f_180'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_180.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 180.</span> Perugino. Prudence and Justice with their Representatives. Fresco.—<em>Cambio, Perugia.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Like most of his contemporaries Perugino outlived his
+fame. He was insulted by Michelangelo, criticized for repeating
+his figures, thrust out of the Vatican in 1508 and superseded
+by his former helper, Raphael. And his exquisite art in his
+later years shows a certain relaxation. He died of the plague
+in 1524 and was denied Christian burial, although in his day
+he had painted plague banners to protect the faithful.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The known atheism of Perugino affords a curious problem.
+How reconcile it with the mild and gentle religiosity of his
+art? Were he a modern artist, one might hold that he entered
+by æsthetic sympathy into experiences of religion which his
+rational self denied. For an atheist of the Renaissance the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>explanation seems too subtle. They were of tough fibre and
+kept their sympathy logically in hand. Mr. Berenson has
+offered the ingenious explanation that in his noble composition
+in space Perugino appealed to
+emotions which are so nearly
+akin to religion as to be readily
+substituted therefor. In the great
+spaces of Perugino the spirit finds
+liberation and a sense of the
+infinite. Such intuition of infinity
+one finds also in personal
+religion, and the two experiences
+are in a degree interchangeable.
+Æsthetically satisfactory, this
+explanation may fail to convince
+a devout person. He will want
+to know how the art of an avowed
+atheist enthralled the pious folk inhabiting the valley sanctified
+by the memory of St. Francis. Whatever be the explanation,
+the space composition of Perugino later sufficed to express
+Raphael’s vision of the central mystery of Christianity, of the
+nobility of pagan intellect and of the serene splendor of the
+Grecian Olympians.</p>
+
+<div id='f_180a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_180a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 180</span><em>a.</em>> Perugino. The Deposition.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Raphael Sanzio<a id='r68'></a><a href='#f68' class='c012'><sup>[68]</sup></a> is the finest example of the Umbrian virtue
+of teachableness. His course is a series of exquisitely felt
+admirations. His readiness to assimilate any sort of excellence
+was his strength, and at times his weakness, for he was
+not always self-critical enough to reject merits alien to his own
+personality. His admitted primacy rests on perfection of composition,
+and that perfection represented a beautiful synthesis
+of the methods of Perugino, Fra Bartolommeo, and Leonardo
+da Vinci. In dramatic power, force of draughtsmanship, and
+charm of color many of his contemporaries surpassed him.
+His, indeed, is a triumph of tact and judgment, and not of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>any single achievement. He seems one of the young men of
+the Platonic dialogues come back to earth—graciously prudent,
+gently effective, superior yet companionable. He approached
+art as his fellow Umbrian, St. Francis, approached
+life, with friendly confidence. He was equally at home with
+noble and artisan, with austere prelate and libertine humanist.
+Men readily gave him their loyalty and women their love.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Raphael Sanzio was born at Urbino in 1483. His father,
+Giovanni, a mediocre poet and painter, left him an orphan
+at eleven. Raphael’s first steps in painting were probably
+guided by Timoteo Viti, who practiced, partly under Perugino’s
+influence, the timidly idyllic style of the Northern Marches—Bologna
+and Ferrara. Such boyish efforts of Raphael as the
+Orleans Madonna, the Three Graces, and the Dream of a
+Knight, in the National Gallery show Raphael’s complete
+assimilation of this idyllic manner. The little picture at
+London in which a stripling Hercules slumbers between an
+attractive girlish Wisdom and a most innocent effigy of Vice—holding
+the flower that signifies the primrose path—shows us
+Raphael at seventeen and by no means precocious.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the year 1500 he was called from Urbino to work in
+Perugino’s home shop at Perugia, soon rising to the position
+of foreman. In four years he made the most devout and complete
+assimilation of his master’s style. Such pictures as the
+Coronation of Mary, in the Vatican, and the Marriage of the
+Virgin, Figure <a href='#f_181'>181</a>, at Milan, would surely be reckoned as
+consummate Perugino’s were it not for signatures and old
+tradition. The Marriage of the Virgin in particular is merely
+a rearrangement of Perugino’s composition for the Giving of
+the Keys to Peter. But Raphael has eliminated unnecessary
+incidents and has outdone Perugino himself in sweetness and
+calm. The picture was finished in 1504, and that year Raphael
+took letters of recommendation from his first patroness, the
+Duchess of Urbino, to the Magistracy of Florence.</p>
+
+<div id='f_181'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>
+<img src='images/f_181.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 181.</span> Raphael. Marriage of the Virgin.—<em>Milan.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_182'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_182.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 182.</span> Raphael. Maddalena Doni.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Imagine a youngster of twenty-one who has diligently
+mastered a pictorial style only to learn that it is already obsolete.
+That is Raphael taking the manner of Perugino to a Florence
+agog over the battle cartoons of Leonardo and Michelangelo.
+The coolness with which young Raphael faced this
+emergency is characteristic. In four years he made himself
+over into a realistic draughtsman. Abandoning the readymade
+faces and figures of Perugino, he wisely held to Perugino’s
+sweetness and spacious compositional patterns. Young Raphael
+achieves an extraordinary act of criticism. He takes from the
+reformers just what he needs and no more—from Leonardo
+his incisiveness and psychology as a draughtsman and his dense
+and rich compositional patterns, from Fra Bartolommeo his
+dignity and monumentality, from Michelangelo very little
+as yet; and, withal, he retains whatever still seemed valuable
+from his Umbrian experience. Thus with resolute and unperturbed
+intelligence within four years he completely reconstructed
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>his style, and put himself on a parity with older
+contemporaries who had been experimenting for a score of
+years.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The steps of this re-education are most interesting. In
+1505 he did the portraits of Agnolo Doni and his wife Maddalena,
+Figure <a href='#f_182'>182</a>. The posture of the woman is that of
+Leonardo’s Mona Lisa. The draughtsmanship and characterization
+are severe, the hint of Umbrian landscape is a
+survival. In later portraits we shall see the elimination of
+accessories, the line yielding to the most refined modelling in
+light and dark, the effect concentrated without insistency. A
+comparison of the Doni portraits with those of ten years
+later, the Julius II and the Fornarina, will tell better than
+words of the tendency of Raphael’s portraiture towards its
+ultimate mastery.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1505 Raphael returned for a time to Perugino to paint
+the fresco of the Trinity at the Convent of San Severo.
+In the splendid geometrical pattern he has already improved
+on the flat groupings of Perugino. The consistory of Saints
+bends back in depth after the fashion of a semi-dome.
+Raphael borrows the new motive from Fra Bartolommeo’s
+fresco of the Last Judgment painted in 1499 for the Florentine
+Hospital of Santa Maria Nuova. Sixteen years later Perugino
+added the languid saints at the base of the Trinity, a touching
+reversal of the natural relations of master and pupil. As for
+Raphael, in a single experiment he has mastered the sort of
+symmetrical composition in depth which should suffice within
+five years for his masterpiece, the Disputa.</p>
+
+<div id='f_183'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>
+<img src='images/f_183.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 183.</span> Raphael. Madonna del Granduca.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_184'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_184.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 184.</span> Raphael. La Belle Jardinière.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The matronly sweetness of Raphael’s early madonnas has
+won them affection from the first. With increasing dignity,
+they retain a hint of the girlish refinement of their predecessors
+of the Early Renaissance. But they are less assertively
+fastidious, more normal and natural. All these obvious
+reasons for liking them are sound, and these pictures
+afford as well an insight into Raphael’s consciously directed
+studies. The effect is ever towards richer and more complicated
+composition, and towards more interesting and stylistic
+dispositions of the figures. The naturalness is that of taste
+and calculation. Near the beginning of the series we have the
+lovely Madonna of the Grand Duke, 1505, Figure <a href='#f_183'>183</a>. The
+upright, frontal position and form and serene oval of the face
+recall Perugino. But reality has supervened,—Perugino never
+painted such a Bambino,—and for the sake of concentration
+the background is kept plain. We see in the Madonna of the
+Tempi Family, at Munich, the Madonna turned in three-quarters
+position, the pose energized, the body swaying in a
+slight counterpoise. Then he tries seated poses which offer the
+triangular pattern of Leonardo. Perhaps the earliest of this
+series is the lovely Cowper Madonna, now in the Widener Collection.
+Soon he adds figures, constructs the pyramids more
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>ornately and restores the background of landscape. At the
+head of this line is the Madonna of the Finch in the Pitti.
+It illustrates that gracious formality which Leonardo established
+in the Madonna of the Rocks. Finding the balance of
+the two standing nude children
+a little too obvious, Raphael carries
+the motive to its perfection
+in the Belle Jardinière of the
+Louvre. Figure <a href='#f_184'>184</a>. Here, to
+break the rigid symmetry, the St.
+John kneels, and superfluous
+trees have been cleared away
+from the background. He seeks
+further to enrich the pyramid,
+and in the Madonna of the
+Canigiani family, at Munich, Figure
+<a href='#f_185'>185</a>, finished in 1507, we
+have at once the densest of symmetries
+and the stylistic handling
+of all the figures in active and counterpoised attitudes. In
+two years the process is complete. Later, in the Madonna of
+the Fish and of the Pearl, executed by students, Raphael will
+adopt diagonal arrangements, he will take up the old Circular
+form in the Madonna of the Chair, and will amplify the
+simple patterns of Perugino in the Sistine Madonna and the
+Madonna of Foligno. The forms and faces will become graver,
+nobler, more mature, but the whole course is fully anticipated
+in the joyous and lucid years of experiment from 1505 to 1507.</p>
+
+<div id='f_185'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_185.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 185.</span> Raphael. Canigiani Holy Family.—<em>Munich.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In that year Raphael pulled himself together to produce a
+masterpiece and signally failed. So far he must have seemed
+only a charming painter, a more gracious Fra Bartolommeo or
+a more learned Albertinelli, he will now surpass Leonardo and
+equal Michelangelo—a perilous competition for a man of
+twenty-five. In 1507 Atalanta Baglioni of Perugia ordered a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>Deposition to be set over the tomb of her murdered son, the
+tyrant Astorre. Raphael, in a theme properly lyrical and pathetic,
+tries to add tumult and drama—tries too hard. At
+first he adopted a scheme very similar to that of Perugino’s
+masterpiece, with the
+dead Christ on the
+ground, a quietly
+mourning group and a
+spacious landscape.
+The design is shown
+in a pen sketch at Oxford.
+He rejects this
+motive as too quiet
+and familiar. By successive
+efforts and exaggerations
+he arrives
+at the picture which
+we now see in the Borghese
+Gallery. Figure
+<a href='#f_186'>186</a>. It has become a
+disagreeable tangle of legs, a display of over-muscular arms
+which support nothing—a welter of histrionic gestures. The
+clew to the trouble is in the effective but meaningless pose of
+the woman at the right, which is borrowed directly from
+Michelangelo’s Madonna of the Doni Family. Figure <a href='#f_195'>195</a>. The
+landscape no longer liberates the spirit, but almost crowds
+the figures out of the frame. Doubtless so self-critical an
+artist as Raphael learned much from this failure. It must have
+shown him that the rich density and measured dramatic effect
+of Leonardo were not as accessible as he had thought, and
+he accordingly restudied the whole problem of energetic monumental
+design. Moreover it showed him, at least for some
+years, that Michelangelo was the worst of models for him and
+threw him back upon his proper exemplars, Perugino and Fra
+Bartolommeo—in short, upon that native humility which was
+at once his charm as a man and his strength as an artist.</p>
+
+<div id='f_186'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_186.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 186.</span> Raphael. The Entombment.—<em>Borghese, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>In 1508 Raphael was called to Rome through the influence of
+a former Urbino friend, Bramante, now the architect of new St.
+Peter’s. The task set by Pope Julius II was the decoration of
+the four new antechambers called the <i><span lang="de">Stanze</span></i>. About the same
+time Michelangelo began on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
+Thus the two artists worked within two hundred feet of each
+other, but held apart partly by a natural rivalry, and even more
+by the irascible and suspicious nature of Michelangelo. And
+two masterpieces were produced as from two different worlds—Michelangelo’s
+all tragic and perturbed, Raphael’s all hopeful
+and serene. Between 1509 and 1511 Raphael frescoes the
+Camera della Segnatura, mostly with his own hand. The
+scheme comprised the finest leading ideals of contemporary
+humanism, and the little room is the most important of documents
+for the student of the Renaissance. Religious authority,
+legal justice, secular philosophy and science, the arts—such
+are the four great themes impersonated on the side walls, and
+echoed in symbol and human illustration on the beautiful
+ceiling; these are the props of a perfect society.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Religious authority and theology are represented by the
+famous fresco called erroneously the Dispute concerning the
+Sacrament, Figure <a href='#f_187'>187</a>. Christ, as the fully revealed member
+of the Trinity, sits in a heaven rayed and studded with gold;
+beside him sit the prophets and apostles—the actual witnesses
+of his passion. The seated group sweeps grandly back describing
+a sort of semi-dome in space. Below and precisely in
+the centre, on an altar, glitters the wafer which in the recurrent
+miracle of the Mass becomes Christ’s body. To right and left
+of the altar are closely compacted and agitated groups insisting
+on the truth of the miracle of transubstantiation. These
+are the martyrs and church doctors, those who after the apostolic
+age either in experience or divine intuition certified to
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>the central mystery of the Church. The upper group is composed
+after the fashion of Fra Bartolommeo and Perugino,
+is a mere expansion of Raphael’s fresco at San Severo; the
+lower group is held together after the fashion of Leonardo da
+Vinci’s Last Supper, the vehemence of the particular gestures
+being assimilated in a running balance of thrust against thrust,
+so that the whole effect is of a rich and energetic harmony. The
+figures themselves are established adequately, but in draughtsmanship
+are inferior either to Leonardo’s or Michelangelo’s.
+With the thriftiness of a born decorator, Raphael makes the
+figure count in its place and beyond that takes no unnecessary
+pains. It might indeed be argued that the decoration would be
+worse as a whole if the parts were more perfect. Finally, note
+how essentially classical, Roman, juridical the motive is; how
+concrete and material. Raphael seeks to express nothing more
+mystical than the obvious equation of Christ and the host, and
+he merely cites a multitude of witnesses to prove that the equation
+is true. This very simplicity of motive has thoroughly
+humanized what might have been a tenuous theme. The picture
+is a magnificent conclave out of many ages, a symbol of
+the cumulative splendor of the Catholic tradition.</p>
+
+<div id='f_187'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_187.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 187.</span> Raphael. La Disputa—The Truth of the Eucharist. Fresco.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_188'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>
+<img src='images/f_188.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 188.</span> Raphael. The School of Athens. Fresco.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>On the opposite wall, in the School of Athens, Figure <a href='#f_188'>188</a>,
+Raphael pictures a similar continuity of human thought on
+the secular plane. The arched space opens into a vast basilica
+whose gods, represented as colossal statues at the sides, are
+Apollo and Minerva. Raphael has studied the Basilica of
+Constantine and has modestly scanned Bramante’s plans for
+new St. Peter’s. He invents a vaulted interior more impressive
+than any that man has ever built. Within finite bounds he
+suggests the infinity of Umbrian space. Without the figures,
+or with quite other figures, we should still have a great picture.
+But the group is as nobly disposed as the architecture.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>You may imagine a foreshortened ring of which the reverend
+forms of Plato and Aristotle are the twin jewels. Aristotle
+at the right is in the vigor of middle age as a scientist should be.
+His disciples crowd towards him or gather in secondary groups
+about some leader. Science is social and co-operative. Raphael
+puts himself in this group. Plato at the left is immensely old
+and feeble. Speculative philosophy requires only strength
+of spirit. His disciples are generally isolated in personal
+meditation. Philosophical truth is arrived at not in society
+but in solitude. Certain ardent young faces recall Leonardo da
+Vinci, and the construction of the group is his. We have linking
+motives, like that of sprawling Diogenes on the steps,
+curves that repeat or counter the vault above, turns and thrusts
+of bodies in active balance, an energetic variety within a serene
+harmony. The mood is less agitated than that of the Disputa,
+while the composition is freer. Human science and philosophy
+are at once less bound than is theology, and move more equably
+because they strive for more readily attainable ends. Like its
+companion piece, the School of Athens is both a citation of
+witnesses and a profession of faith, of faith in the capacity of
+the human mind.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The fresco of Parnassus repeats approximately the grouping
+of the School of Athens, but changes the mood to one of
+lyrism, and shifts the scene to a hill top. About Apollo and
+the Muses wander the forms of the elder and recent poets.
+Often the faces are a bit insipid, but no one thinks of that, so
+easy are the postures, so gracious the whole effect, so instinct
+with the quiet good breeding of an academic pastoral. All
+the Umbrian reticence and discretion and humility of Raphael
+are in this beautifully calculated work. It betrays, too,
+certain ominous symptoms of display, in the way, for example,
+in which the figures at the window protrude beyond the wall.
+Primarily this is only a way of softening two ugly angles of the
+window opening, but it is also a concession to Michelangelo’s
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>dangerous habit of painting away the architecture. All the forms
+have an amplitude and dignity akin to that of classical sculpture.
+Hellas is for Raphael no longer a far-away, inaccessible
+world, as it was, for example, to Botticelli. Raphael has effectively
+reconstructed it, in part by a gracious act of intuition,
+in part by study of the wall paintings and statues of old Rome.</p>
+
+<div id='f_189'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_189.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 189.</span> Raphael. Prudence, Temperance, Force—generally called Jurisprudence. Fresco.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The decoration of the Camera della Segnatura was completed
+triumphantly with the fresco symbolizing Jurisprudence, Figure
+<a href='#f_189'>189</a>, in which Raphael invents a new and beautiful compositional
+formula. Having to deal with a lunette awkwardly
+shortened by the window, he used three seated figures signifying
+the judging, restraining and rewarding aspects of justice.
+There is no strict centrality and no exact symmetry. The
+large curves of the figures play off from each other in a continuous
+rhythm melting into the bounding curve. One may conceive
+it in terms of the growth of plants, as so many sprays
+meeting, diverging, opposing each other, and all managing to
+conform to the line of an arch. It is a type of composition that
+Raphael will develop with still greater subtlety in the Sibyls
+of the Madonna della Pace.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>When Raphael finished the Camera della Segnatura he was
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>about twenty-eight years old. His remaining nine years added
+certain remarkable portraits, the Castiglione, the Leo X, Figure
+<a href='#f_190'>190</a>, the Fornarina and the young Cardinal at Madrid, one
+sublime altar-piece, in the Sistine
+Madonna; a dramatic masterpiece
+in the Transfiguration, and
+a few frescoes. But in the main
+these are years of retrogression.
+His popularity had got beyond
+his power to utilize it. Michelangelo
+in 1512 had unveiled the
+ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
+Raphael, with all Rome, felt
+qualities of energy and grandeur
+which he himself lacked, and,
+with less than his usual intelligence,
+began a fruitless emulation.
+The last three <i><span lang="de">Stanze</span></i> show
+in their very look that Raphael is no longer his unperturbed
+self. The figures no longer hold up their place on the wall, they
+crowd out toward the spectator appallingly. The compositions
+no longer show restful patterns which conform to the flatness
+of the wall. There are disturbing flashes of light and obscure
+gaps. The figures themselves are contorted and vehement;
+straining sinews and knotted muscles are advertised for their
+own sake. Emulating the sublimity of Michelangelo, Raphael
+only achieves sensationalism. Then he is no longer a painter
+but a director of painting. Nothing but the designs are now
+his own. The working sketches and cartoons are by his pupils,
+who work under the sway of a young Mantuan of facile and
+brutal talent, Giulio Romano. One passes through the last
+three Stanze with mixed feelings. The high pleasures of art
+are left behind; remains the spell of great power and intelligence
+now almost untouched by taste.</p>
+
+<div id='f_190'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_190.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 190.</span> Raphael. Pope Leo X.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_191'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>
+<img src='images/f_191.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 191.</span> Raphael. Heliodorus driven from the Temple by a Celestial Horseman. Fresco.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Stanza of Heliodorus finished in 1514 contains a superbly
+dramatic fresco of Heliodorus, Figure <a href='#f_191'>191</a>, thrust by a
+celestial horseman from the temple he would profane. The execution
+is mostly by Giulio Romano. Raphael himself appears
+in one of his most massive designs, the Mass of Bolsena.
+The theme is a sceptical priest persuaded of the truth of
+the sacramental miracle through the bleeding of the wafer.
+The miracle takes place in the presence of Pope Julius II.
+There is a weight of character in the picture which is unique in
+Raphael’s mural painting. The adjustment of masses is in an
+impeccable symmetry all the more difficult that the space is
+irregular and refractory. The fine figures that carry the theme
+down into the narrow rectangles alongside the window are in
+part repainted by a young rival of Raphael, Michelangelo’s
+protegé, Sebastiano del Piombo.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Chamber of the <em>Incendio</em>, finished in 1517, shows even
+more plainly the devastating influence of Michelangelo. The
+subject is a fire arrested miraculously by Pope Leo IV, Figure
+<a href='#f_192'>192</a>. It is a magnificent display of poses and anatomy, an
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>artistic show window rather than a decoration. The eye
+wanders in bewilderment to find the picture and finds
+nothing but isolated, splendid forms posing superbly or simulating
+unfelt emotions. From the point of view of decoration,
+the space has been systematically violated. Again the remorseless
+hand of Giulio Romano is everywhere felt. This is
+the last anteroom of the Vatican which Raphael saw finished,
+though he left to his helpers many sketches for the two remaining
+<i><span lang="de">Stanze</span></i>.</p>
+
+<div id='f_192'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_192.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 192.</span> Raphael’s Design executed by Giulio Romano. Il Borgo. The Fire at Rome.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1516 and 1517 Raphael is superintending half a dozen
+great tasks at once. From the early months of 1515 he had
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>been Bramante’s successor as architect of new St. Peter’s,
+the same year he became superintendent of all archæological
+excavations at Rome. To these heavy administrative charges
+he adds the decoration of the Farnesina, the continuation of
+the <i><span lang="de">Stanze</span></i>, designs for mosaics in Santa Maria del Popolo,
+plans for two private palaces, sixteen cartoons for the Vatican
+tapestries, and the preliminary studies for the Loggia of the
+Vatican. He designs half a dozen great altar-pieces and paints
+with his own hand the Portrait of Leo X, the marvelous St.
+Cecilia at Bologna, the Sibyls of the Pace, and the Sistine
+Madonna. He was rich and beloved, great nobles pressed
+him with social attentions, and a cardinal vainly sought to
+ally him with his family by marriage.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>We can consider these multiform activities of the later
+years only in general terms. The tapestry cartoons at South
+Kensington representing the miracles of St. Peter and St. Paul
+complete that magnificent line of narrative painting that begins
+with Giotto. Raphael works for simplicity and concentration
+and dignity in an eminently classic spirit. One
+feels the influence of Masaccio. Though rudely executed to
+guide the Flemish weavers and executed by the assistant,
+Penni, the mind of Raphael controls the form throughout.
+Such designs as the Miraculous Draught of Fishes, Paul
+Preaching at Athens, the Death of Ananias, the Blinding of
+the Sorcerer Elymas are among the marvels of our art. Yet
+many of these designs are over-studied, and few I feel fully
+bear the comparison with the best of Giotto and Masaccio.
+A little over-emphasis of style recalls the bitter word of
+Michelangelo concerning Raphael—that he succeeded not by
+grace of nature but by study.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The frescoes of the Life of Psyche, in the Farnesina, are
+beautiful in arrangement and full of a robust paganism. But
+the wall is overcharged with the weight of figures which too
+often show Giulio Romano’s heavy and insolent hand. All
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>the same, the whole effect is gracious and the garlanded
+borders of the coves and spandrels by Giovanni da Udine are
+delightful. To realize how much these frescoes lost from
+student execution one has only to consider the Galatea, Figure
+<a href='#f_192a'>192a</a>, in the same Palace, which Raphael painted himself in
+1514. It is on the verge of over-ripeness, but keeps its saving
+element of restraint. In answer to an inquiry from that great
+diplomat and gentleman, Count Baldassare Castiglione, Raphael
+wrote that though beautiful models were not rare, for the
+Galatea as for other figures, he had followed only an idea;
+and indeed the mind’s eye is what ever counts with Raphael.</p>
+
+<div id='f_192a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_192a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 192</span><em>a.</em>> Raphael. Galatea. Fresco.—<em>Farnesina, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_193'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_193.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 193.</span> Raphael. The Sistine Madonna.—<em>Dresden.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Raphael’s final work for the Vatican was the decoration of
+an open, vaulted Loggia. He invented fifty-two little Bible
+stories, leaving most of the painting to his assistant, Penni,
+and he drew about the arches, pilasters and window frames the
+most delicious arabesques. From study of similar decoration
+in the Baths of Titus he worked out a style, crisp, formal and
+sophisticated, and as various as Gothic ornament itself. Geometrical,
+animal, and plant forms meet and blend audaciously.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>There is interplay of spiral and angular motives, the whole
+effect is highly playful and ingenious. The style has had vogue
+to our own day and still speaks to us charmingly of the
+unserious side of Raphael.</p>
+
+<div id='f_194'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_194.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 194.</span> Raphael. The Transfiguration.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Perhaps in the harassed, competitive
+years we have been
+describing, Raphael turned occasionally
+upon his own ingenuity,
+and refreshed himself by renewing
+these simple and gracious
+modes in which he had been
+bred. Such a theory would account
+for the Sistine Madonna,
+Figure <a href='#f_193'>193</a>, and in part for his
+last picture, the Transfiguration.
+The most memorable of Raphael’s
+Madonnas is based on the
+lucid symmetry of Perugino.
+Although, for greater concentration,
+the background is merely
+a sky, the hovering figures are
+easily spaced in the usual triangle. The effect is ineffably
+grand and gentle. A quiet silvery cloudland is created and
+filled by the devotion of the attendant saints and the inspired
+glance of the Virgin and her Son. With all the resources of
+the Renaissance, Raphael has expressed an emotion as intense
+and reverent as that of Fra Angelico. It is an amazing act of
+the sympathetic intelligence, for there is no reason to suppose
+that the painter was ever a deeply religious spirit.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Almost as traditional was the unfinished picture before
+which in springtime of 1520 Raphael’s body lay in state. The
+Transfiguration, Figure <a href='#f_194'>194</a>, repeats the method of the Disputa.
+The celestial group of Christ and Moses and Elijah is disposed
+as Perugino would have counselled, in a swaying triangular
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>group set before the gulf of the firmament. Raphael painted
+this part with his own hand. The lower part, which was left
+to Giulio Romano to finish, rests on the maxims and practice of
+Leonardo. An energetic variety compelled into a close balance
+is the ideal, a formal order which contains and softens otherwise
+extravagant expressions and gestures. There is perhaps
+intended not merely an illustration of the Gospel text, but also
+the contrast between that life of contemplation towards which
+the soul aspires, and that world of suffering of mind and body
+which presses closely upon our rare moments of spiritual
+escape.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Even that world of facts had been very kind to Raphael.
+It was fitting then that in his last days he should forget the
+haunting spectre of Michelangelo’s sublimity, and should use
+his last forces in an imitation which was a sort of gratitude
+to those two great masters who had set him on the right way.
+One would like to believe that the Sistine Madonna and the
+Transfiguration are the sign that Raphael when overtaken by
+an untimely death was purging himself of an unfruitful rivalry,
+and becoming once more master of his own soul. Yet since
+even Michelangelo shipwrecked on the Michelangelesque, it
+is an open question whether Raphael could ever have permanently
+recovered his natural equipoise. However that be,
+Raphael in the glorious years from 1500 to 1512 resumes and
+perfects every gentle, orderly, and reasonable strain in
+Italian painting. Whether in portraiture or narrative, in
+mythology or symbolism, in pictures of the Madonna or in
+pure decoration, he gave to Italian painting its final stamp.
+He achieved a grandeur of space composition akin to the movement
+of a symphony, a hidden structure more appealing than
+any separate hue or form. His best work rests on a great
+humility, and his later pride went far towards undoing him as
+an artist. Such pride was the breath of life and the source of
+strength to his rival Michelangelo, the fulfiller and perfector
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>of everything that had been insurgent, unbounded and not
+quite reasonable in the art of Florence.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>By a peculiar irony all that was valuable in such truculent
+and self-sufficing predecessors as Donatello and Bertoldo,
+Andrea del Castagno, Antonio Pollaiuolo and Luca Signorelli
+was finally concentrated in the small and ill-favored body of
+a neurasthenic. There is the tragedy of Michelangelo<a id='r69'></a><a href='#f69' class='c012'><sup>[69]</sup></a> in its
+simplest terms. A Titan in capacity to feel and work, he
+lived in an atmosphere of suspicion and fear. Thrice he ran
+away from physical danger, once was virtually a military deserter.
+To unworthy dependent relatives he gave lavishly,
+scolding and fretting as he gave. He deliberately affronted
+two of the most courteous and accomplished colleagues, Leonardo
+da Vinci and Perugino. He suspected the worst of his
+gracious and generous rival, Raphael. From a Roman studio
+as unkempt and filthy as its owner, he snarled at the world
+and himself like a dog from a kennel.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Yet, note the paradox, this snarling is embodied in fine
+poetry, and this haggard and more than untidy artist is the
+friend of such elect spirits as Tommaso Cavalieri and Vittoria
+Colonna. Transient solaces. Near the end of his long life he
+writes:—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Alas! Alas! again and once again</div>
+      <div class='line'>I see my past and there I find not one—</div>
+      <div class='line'>In all, not one whole day that has been mine.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>These were the words of a man who was admired like a god
+and had achieved a lifework of unexampled copiousness and
+athleticism.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The great enigma, how Michelangelo converted what are
+usually weaknesses into sources of artistic strength, may best
+be faced in his life and works. He was born at Caprese in 1475,
+soon taken back to Florence and put to nurse with a stonecutter’s
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>wife, with whose milk he later used to say he sucked
+in the mallets and chisels he wielded so powerfully. At thirteen
+he was articled to Ghirlandaio as a paid assistant and doubtless
+did some minor work on those prettiest of frescoes in the
+choir of Santa Maria Novella.
+Extricating himself from an uncongenial
+task, he became one of
+the protegés of Lorenzo de’ Medici,
+studying the antique marbles
+of the Medici Gardens under
+the kindly guidance of old Bertoldo.
+There he mingled freely
+for three years in the most
+learned and gentle society of the
+time. He mastered anatomy and
+modelling, searched the compositional
+secrets of Masaccio.
+Soon Savonarola’s revolution dismantled that artistic paradise
+which had been the Medici Gardens, and Michelangelo became
+what he frequently was afterwards, a fugitive and a solitary
+man, without either fixed friendships or abiding place.</p>
+
+<div id='f_195'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_195.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 195.</span> Michelangelo. Holy Family of the Doni.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>How he made himself great in sculpture is not our theme.
+He was thirty and already the master of the David and the
+Pietà before he began to be a painter. His first commission,
+in 1505, was for a Holy Family, Figure <a href='#f_195'>195</a>, in medallion form
+for Agnolo Doni, who at the same time was having his portrait
+painted by Raphael. The picture as we see it in the Uffizi
+shows a master who thinks in fresco. The brown flesh, the dull
+yellows and blues of the draperies could have come from the
+Brancacci chapel. Remarkable is the complete waiver of charm
+and sweetness. The superb figures are skilfully contorted into
+interesting poses, the circle is densely filled and the few interstices
+left by the main figures are filled with athletic nudes.
+The aim, which is successfully attained, is an austere grandeur.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>There is to be no ordinary human appeal in our youthful
+Lord and his parents.</p>
+
+<div id='f_196'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_196.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 196.</span> Michelangelo. Detail from Cartoon of the Bathers, by the contemporary engraver, Marcantonio.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>At this moment Leonardo was already well advanced on the
+cartoon for the Battle of the Standard, treating it in terms of
+literal narrative. In 1505 Michelangelo
+received a signal honor in
+the commission for the companion
+fresco, the Battle of Pisa. Both
+were for the Hall of the Great
+Council. We can imagine Michelangelo
+casting about for a reason
+to abandon a narrative treatment
+and to find one that could be expressed
+by the nude. He found
+it in an incident in Leonardo
+Aretino’s Chronicle. It seemed
+that the trumpet found the Florentine
+men-at-arms bathing in the
+Arno. Here was the theme of
+what was properly called The Bathers. Great muscular forms
+are drawing themselves up the bank, and are hurrying into
+clothes and armor. We have not a fight, but its alarm and imminence,
+a fine imaginative substitute for the obvious event.
+The picture was never executed, and the cartoon, which was
+the marvel of its day, was soon destroyed, but Michelangelo’s
+sketches tells us something of the composition, and the contemporary
+engraver, Marcantonio, Figure <a href='#f_196'>196</a>, has left us a
+masterly print of the central group. It is plain that Michelangelo
+made a display of minute anatomy that put his contemporaries
+to shame, plain also that he subordinated this
+feature to monumental effect. The failure to execute the fresco
+and the destruction of the cartoon must count among the
+capital losses in the history of art.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Burdened already with the impossible task of the tomb of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>Julius II, Michelangelo was called to Rome to fresco the vault
+of the Sistine Chapel. Contemporary gossip believed that he
+was proposed by the jealous and shifty Bramante, architect of
+St. Peter’s, in the hope of discrediting him. If so, Bramante
+reckoned ill. At first Michelangelo planned a very modest
+scheme of colossal figures of Apostles in the twelve spandrels.
+Soon, dismissing his incompetent helpers, he attacked single-handed
+the present great scheme. He worked at it four bitter
+years, and came out of it temporarily crippled and with eyes
+distorted from the constant strain of looking upwards. The
+ceiling was unveiled on All Saint’s Day of 1512 and has been a
+portent ever since.</p>
+
+<div id='f_197'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_197.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 197.</span> Michelangelo. The two Western Compartments of the Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel: God parting Light from Darkness; God creating the Sea and Plants. Example of the Decorative Scheme.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Enter the Sistine Chapel, turn your back to the overwhelming
+apparition of the Last Judgment, and your eye will naturally
+seek the lightest part of the rich decoration. In a long
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>strip, down the centre of the ceiling, made up of nine oblongs
+alternately large and small, colossal figures stand out against
+the sky. We see the drama of the Creation and Fall of man.
+Nude titans play the minor parts in so many simultaneous
+scenes. The gigantic, draped form of the Eternal dominates
+the first five. We see him an aged athlete, an expression of utmost
+physical force, rending chaos asunder into light and darkness;
+by his touch illumining the sun and moon; Figure <a href='#f_197'>197</a>,
+drawing out the plants from the earth. I know no more sublime
+conception in painting than the figure of God assigning
+the oceans their place, Figure <a href='#f_198'>198</a>. Here is a form that would
+weigh tons hovering with the lightness of an eagle in space,
+with extended beneficent arms as solid as reality but coaxed
+out of the wet plaster with touch and hues as delicate as those
+of a Whistler symphony. A miracle of conception and of workmanship.</p>
+
+<div id='f_198'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_198.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 198.</span> Michelangelo. God hovering over the Waters. Shows the decorative use of the so-called “Slaves.”—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_199'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>
+<img src='images/f_199.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 199.</span> Michelangelo. Creation of Adam.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The eye will dwell longest on the great fresco of the Creation
+of Adam, Figure <a href='#f_199'>199</a>. It is all noble energy in the figure of
+God giving life by His touch, all noble languor in the relaxed
+form of Adam only dimly conscious of himself and wistful.
+There could be no truer or more striking illustration of the
+pessimistic view that life was imposed upon the earth and
+brought sadness with it. The titan form of Adam has a singular
+and enigmatic relaxation. He undergoes a gift he has never
+besought and faces it with something between confusion, mistrust
+and resignation. Perhaps the splendid body would have
+been more at ease, had the soul not been added. So in a spirit
+of Christian pessimism Michelangelo represents Deity sharing
+its divine powers with the first man.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>At the centre of the ceiling is the creation of Eve, again
+an extraordinary study in lassitude, but with a significant
+difference in the figure of Eve. The woman, the chosen receptacle
+and transmitter of life, accepts the gift eagerly. She
+presses up to God in thankful adoration. No doubts or ambiguities
+here. And what a figure—fit to be the mother of a
+race, exulting already in a fecundity that is to be most grievous.
+Compare her action with the languid and almost disdainful
+gesture of Adam in the last fresco, and learn that if
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>the world is still peopled it is due to the unreflective and unshaken
+fealty to life of all Eve’s true daughters.</p>
+
+<div id='f_200'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_200.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 200.</span> Michelangelo. The Temptation and Expulsion from Eden.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Perhaps the most decorative subject, if one may use the
+word of themes so morally impressive, is that which represents
+the sin of the forbidden fruit and the expulsion from Eden,
+Figure <a href='#f_200'>200</a>. The elements of pathos which are strong in the
+story of Genesis are absent. Michelangelo has not deigned to
+show us a habitable or desirable Eden. We see instead the
+swiftly changing episodes of a great doom, which culminates in
+this scene. Marvelous are the paired groups, superb the contrast
+between careless appetite under the tree of knowledge
+and utter shame in the exiled pair. One feels that Eve, who
+shrinks most, will soonest recover. Her mission is still valid in
+the world of sin and shame. The composition is the first one
+made up entirely of nudes.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>We may pass quickly over the three compartments devoted
+to the story of Noah. The scale of the figures, especially in the
+Deluge, is too small to count at the distance from the eye.
+These three frescoes were the beginning of the work, the
+proper scale being arrived at through trial and error. Inherently
+the two small oblongs are among the most beautiful
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>in the ceiling, having a stylistic grace that is less marked in
+the earlier more august themes. With the charm of Greek
+intaglios these stories of Noah combine monumentality.</p>
+
+<div id='f_201'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_201.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 201.</span> Michelangelo. The Prophet Jeremiah.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>I have tried to put myself in the position of a visitor to the
+Sistine Chapel following the instincts of his eye. At this point,
+having glanced over the ceiling, his mind might well come in
+and ask the meaning of a whole of which he is becoming dimly
+aware. The nine scenes above are simply the historic axioms
+upon which the Christian scheme of redemption is based. The
+abstract sparseness of the nine episodes from Genesis is justified
+by the fact that they are less human events than terms in a
+great argument, which runs as follows: We were created innocent,
+sinned in our first parents, were spared in the world-flood
+and promised eventual redemption.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>This prolonged drama of redemption is witnessed by a
+solemn chorus of draped male and female figures enthroned
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>impressively in the spandrels. Here, representing respectively
+the pagan and Hebrew world, are seven sibyls and five
+prophets who had the dim but certain vision of a coming Redeemer.
+These figures as Hawthorne has well said are “necessarily
+so gigantic because the weight of thought within them is
+so massive.” They brood quietly or sway with the burden of
+yearning. They are magnificently draped and contrast most
+decoratively with the many nudes of the ceiling. They vary
+in age and disposition. Contrast the actively inspired and
+youthful Daniel, or the fiery Ezechiel with the ponderous
+gravity of Jeremiah, Figure <a href='#f_201'>201</a>. What shades of delicate
+characterization are in the athletic loveliness of the Delphic
+Sibyl, Figure <a href='#f_202'>202</a>, the powerfully concentrated senility of
+The Cumean Sibyl, she who predicted to Virgil the new era
+of salvation, and the aristocratic aloofness of the Libyan
+seeress, Figure <a href='#f_203'>203</a>, most daintily preparing her day’s work in
+divination.</p>
+
+<div id='f_202'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_202.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 202.</span> Michelangelo. The Delphic Sibyl.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_203'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_203.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 203.</span> Michelangelo. The Libyan Sibyl.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Magnificent is the indignant sprawling form of the unwilling
+prophet Jonah, remanded by the sea to an ungrateful mission.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>He is the active counterpart of the passive Adam on the ceiling.
+He obeys under protest. The form itself, foreshortened against
+the curve of the spandrel, is a masterpiece of draughtsmanship.
+Decoratively it is the link between the nudes of the
+ceiling and the draped prophets and sibyls.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Below the prophetic figures, in the older frescoes of the side
+walls, are set the foreshadowing of the work of salvation in
+the life of Moses and its accomplishment in the life of Christ,
+and the drama closes with Michelangelo’s Last Judgment on
+the altar wall. There Christ separates eternally the saved
+from the damned, echoing the definitive gesture with which
+God in the adjoining ceiling separates light from darkness.
+So the scheme closes with the inexorable logic with which it
+began.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The decorative task of Michelangelo was to mediate between
+the prophets and sibyls and the ceiling frescoes above,
+and likewise to link the great figures with the side walls below.
+Above, he set a multitude of nude forms. On the massive
+sides of the twelve thrones are four caryatids in two pairs.
+At the top of these piers are seated the lithe forms of nude
+youths, Figure <a href='#f_198'>198</a>, forty in all, supporting medallions and
+bent into every conceivable attitude that might set off the
+flexibility and power of these superb young bodies. But however
+extravagant any single pose may be, it is immediately
+balanced by an opposing thrust from some other body, so that
+the whole composition is locked together into an active and
+thrilling equilibrium. Even the triangles over the coves are
+filled with huddled nudes most adroitly disposed in the narrow
+and refractory spaces.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Below the prophets and sibyls, the linking motives are made
+up of draped figures. Weakest are the caryatid geniuses below
+each throne. The triangular splays at the corners contain those
+four bloody and sensational acts which assured the perpetuity
+of God’s Chosen People—the Raising of the Brazen Serpent,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>the Slaying of Goliath and of Holophernes, the Hanging of
+Haaman.</p>
+
+<div id='f_204'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_204.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 204.</span> Michelangelo. Decoration of Cove over Window.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the triangles roofing the coves and in the lunettes about
+the arched window heads are family groups of the ancestors
+and precursors of Christ. Figure <a href='#f_204'>204</a>. The mood of anticipation
+which has been calm and official in the prophets becomes
+agitated, passionate, personal in these half hidden groups.
+So many pilgrims of eternity yearn for the fulfillment that
+shall give meaning to their wanderings—a promised goal
+and rest. Very subtle and beautiful is the contrast between
+the groups sundered by the window heads, individually
+meditative, and those which blend their longing in the
+close relations forced by the triangular coves. What has
+begun as noble abstraction finishes in terms of almost inexpressible
+tenderness. In color the whole gigantic composition
+is unified by a sonorous chord of yellow and violet which is
+moderately asserted in the ceiling and pushed to the utmost in
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>the spandrels. Of the color John La Farge has written: “The
+unity is so great, the balance of effects so harmonious,
+that it is only by study that we see expressed in the methods
+of the painting the ancient rules, handed down by practice,
+which unite with the latest teaching
+of modern scientific coloring.”
+What a mind it took to
+hold the tumultuous and pathetic
+details of this great work within
+an enveloping order and calm!</p>
+
+<div id='f_205'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_205.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 205.</span> Michelangelo. The Last Judgment.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In framing his great work out
+of nudes relieved by draped
+figures, Michelangelo renewed the
+Grecian practice. Precisely the
+difference between the Sistine
+ceiling and the metopes of the
+Parthenon, or the frieze of Pergamon,
+raises the question—What
+does the nude of Michelangelo express? I do not find in
+it, at least in the Sistine ceiling, much of that terribleness,
+<i><span lang="it">terribiltà</span></i>, which has been remarked by critics from Vasari to
+Henri Beyle. It seems to me rather an art of lassitude and
+relaxation, the reluctantly awaking Adam being the clue to
+the mood. Except for the gestures of God and Eve, the gestures
+and poses are unspecific. The lithe bodies of the
+slaves are twisted only that they may attain consciousness of
+powers which have no use. The relaxation which marks nearly
+all the nudes, whether in the stories or in the incidental ornament,
+is not that of fatigue after action, nor yet that of preparation
+for an ordeal. In barren lassitude we have expressed
+powers which do not imply action or use, but breathe a great
+melancholy. We are far from the splendors of passion and
+achievement, we see humanity confused at a fate that calls
+itself God, a passive factor in an arbitrary process that makes
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>the glory of the flesh a vain thing. As a humanist, Michelangelo
+asserts that failing glory, as a Christian he accepts the
+nothingness of mankind and the rightness of God’s inscrutable
+and apparently cruel designs. Perhaps the spell of Michelangelo,
+his æsthetic, to put it pedantically, is simply the noble
+resignation with which the humanist accepts the Christian
+pessimism as regards this world. And here I may note that
+Rodin has significantly shown that even the forms of Michelangelo
+are not uprising and resilient like the antique, but compressed
+and yielding like those of the Christian Gothic sculptors.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Twenty-one years after the Sistine ceiling was unveiled,
+Michelangelo began reluctantly the great fresco of the Last
+Judgment, Figure <a href='#f_205'>205</a>. He worked on it for seven years,
+and it was unveiled on Christmas Day of 1541. How the choristers
+had the heart to chant the angelic message of peace and
+good will before it, I cannot imagine. Michelangelo was sixty-six
+years old, a disillusioned and embittered man, an alien in
+the corrupt and pleasure loving Rome of Paul III. He has
+put into the Christ all his contempt for mankind. The Christ
+who earlier wrathfully hurled the darts in the Umbrian plague
+banners has become a far darting Apollo, Figure <a href='#f_206'>206</a>, rejoicing
+in his dire task. Behind him the murky air is full of
+hurtling contorted angels, in aspect quite indistinguishable
+from fiends, who bear the implements of the Passion. Below,
+the just and unjust rise or fall in knots and festoons of writhing
+nude bodies all equally sinister. The conception is violently
+corporeal, and never elsewhere in painting has the human body
+been used with such ingenuity and power. But it is a power
+that defeats itself. I believe the spectator is not so much
+appalled as confused before the Last Judgment. Its vehemence
+seems so unrelieved and insensate. If this be indeed the goal
+of mankind, no wonder moody Adam in the ceiling above
+faces his Creator with doubt and a hint of distrust.</p>
+
+<div id='f_206'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>
+<img src='images/f_206.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 206.</span> Michelangelo. Christ with the Virgin and the Apostles. From the Last Judgment.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Its sheer display of force won all contemporaries, and the
+French critic and superman, Stendhal, has highly praised the
+work for its burning energy. While not sharing his enthusiasm,
+I gladly refer the reader to his admirable pages. In my
+own opinion the creative ardor of Michelangelo had waned by
+this time. He offers, instead, his spleen, which is more valuable
+than most men’s genius, and his amazing technical skill.
+Michelangelo has become Michelangelesque. That is deplorably
+true in the frescoes for the Pauline Chapel which were
+finished in 1547, his seventy-second year. Nothing is left but
+sensationalism, and the Pope does well not to exhibit these
+works. As regards humanity, Michelangelo’s vein is completely
+exhausted. He still is capable of exquisite calculation,
+as in the design for the dome of St. Peter’s, still retains a dæmonic
+capacity for work and emotion, but the sculptor in him
+is nearly dead and the painter completely so. The poet of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>the rugged sonnets has superseded them both. When he died
+at 89, in 1564, the little ill-favored body was honored like that
+of a king. His sheer power had swept the whole rising generation
+of artists under his sway. To their own hurt and to the
+bankruptcy of the Golden Age.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such forms as Michelangelo’s are tolerable only when possessed
+by that melancholy poetry of his which gives them
+meaning. If the serene intelligence of a Raphael had not
+found emotions to fill such forms, if Michelangelo himself
+in his later years falls back on a monotonous formula of terribleness,
+what hope was there for such uninspired imitators as
+the Venustis, Volterras, and Vasaris? One and all, they entertained
+monstrous delusions of effortless attainment—cleverly
+contorted their nudes, shrewdly calculated their terrors.
+And the Roman art of the Golden Age, forgetting both the wise
+humility of Umbria and the reasonable pride of Florence,
+suddenly collapsed in the ugliest and most irrational ostentation.
+Michelangelo had passed—to fulfill and to destroy.</p>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>A Contemporary List of Great Artists, before 1510</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>In an offhand mention in <cite>The Courtier</cite> Baldasarre Castiglione tells
+us who seemed to be great artists to a cultured and well-informed
+gentleman about the year 1508. Titian had not yet emerged and of the
+older men only Leonardo da Vinci and Mantegna are remembered.
+As seniors, they are the first mentioned.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>“Again various things give equal pleasure to the eyes, so that we can
+with difficulty decide what are more pleasing to them. You know that
+in painting Leonardo da Vinci, Mantegna, Raphael, Michelangelo,
+Giorgio da Castelfranco are very excellent, yet they are all unlike in
+their work; so that no one of them seems to lack anything in his own
+manner, since each is known as the most perfect in his style.”</p>
+
+<p class='c020'><cite>The Book of the Courtier by Count Baldesar Castiglione</cite>, translated by
+Leonard Ekstein Opdycke, New York, 1903, p. 50.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Michelangelo on Renaissance Counterpoise</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c018'>It is said then that Michelangelo once gave his advice to Marcoda
+Siena, his pupil, that “one should make the figure pyramidal, spiral,
+(<i><span lang="it">serpentinata</span></i>) and multiplied by one, two, and three.” Lomazzo
+<cite>Trattato</cite>, Milan, 1484, p. 23. The pose, that is, should be contained geometrically,
+should display opposing thrusts, and should be mathematically
+proportioned within the inclosing geometrical form.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Vasari on the “Modern Style”</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>Vasari’s account of the Grand Style or “Third Manner,” in the
+Preface to Part III (De Vere’s translation, Vol. IV, pp. 79–85) is still
+authoritative. He praises the artists before Leonardo, but finds in them
+a certain hardness, lack of finish and uncertainty of proportions. The
+change to the perfect manner was caused by the discovery of ancient
+marbles.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“After them [the predecessors of Leonardo], their successors were
+able to attain to it through seeing excavated out of the earth certain
+antiquities cited by Pliny as amongst the most famous, such as the
+Laocoon, the Hercules, the Great Torso of the Belvedere, and likewise
+the Venus, the Cleopatra, the Apollo, and an endless number of others,
+which, both with their sweetness and their severity, with their fleshy
+roundness copied from the greatest beauties of nature, and with certain
+attitudes which involve no distortion of the whole figure but only a
+movement of certain parts, which are revealed with a most perfect
+grace, brought about the disappearance of a certain dryness, hardness,
+and sharpness of manner....</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>[He mentions the contemporary admiration of such precursors as
+Francia and Perugino.]</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“But their error was afterwards clearly proved by the works of Leonardo
+da Vinci, who, giving a beginning to that third manner which we
+propose to call the modern—besides the force and boldness of his drawing,
+and the extreme subtlety wherewith he counterfeited all the minutenesses
+of nature exactly as they are—with good rule, better order, right
+proportion, perfect drawing, and divine grace, abounding in resources
+and having a most profound knowledge of art, may be truly said to have
+endowed his figures with motion and breath.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“There followed after him, although at some distance, Giorgione da
+Castelfranco, who obtained a beautiful gradation of colour in his pictures&#160;...;
+and not inferior to him in giving force, relief, sweetness, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>grace to his pictures, with his colouring, was Fra Bartolommeo di San
+Marco. But more than all did the most gracious Rafaello da Urbino,
+who, studying the labours of the old masters and those of the Moderns,
+took the best from them, and, having gathered it together, enriched the
+art of painting with that complete perfection which was shown in ancient
+times by the figures of Apelles and Zeuxis, nay, even more, if we
+may make bold to say it, as might be proved if we could compare their
+works with his. Wherefore nature was left vanquished by his
+colours....</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“In the same manner, but sweeter in colouring and not so bold, there
+followed Andrea del Sarto, who may be called a rare painter, for his
+works are free from errors.</p>
+
+<hr class='c022'>
+
+<p class='c019'>“But he who bears the palm from both the living and the dead, transcending
+and eclipsing all others, is the divine Michelangelo Buonarotti,
+who holds the sovereignty not merely of one of these arts, but of all
+three together. This master surpasses and excels not only all those
+moderns who have almost vanquished nature, but even those most
+famous ancients who without a doubt did so gloriously surpass
+her; and in his own self he triumphs over moderns, ancients,
+and nature, who could scarcely conceive anything so strange
+and so difficult that he would not be able, by the force of his most divine
+intellect and by means of his industry, draughtsmanship, art, judgment
+and grace, to excel it by a great measure; and that not only in
+painting and in the use of colours under which title are comprised all
+forms, and all bodies upright or not upright, palpable or impalpable,
+visible or invisible, but also in the highest perfection of bodies in the
+round, with the point of his chisel.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Unity of Design in the Renaissance</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>The humanist Benedetto Varchi, renewing the debate which Leonardo
+da Vinci had started concerning the relative rank of sculpture and
+painting, sent the text of his lecture to Michelangelo and asked for his
+opinion. The sculptor writes in 1549:</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>“In my opinion painting should be considered excellent in proportion
+as it approaches the effect of relief, while relief should be considered
+bad as it approaches the effect of painting. I used to consider that
+sculpture was the lantern of painting and that between the two things
+there was the same difference as that between the sun and the moon.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>But now that I have read your book, in which, speaking as a philosopher,
+you say that things which have the same end are themselves the same,
+I have changed my opinion; and I now consider that painting and sculpture
+are one and the same thing, unless greater nobility be imparted
+by the necessity for a keener judgment, greater difficulties of execution,
+stricter limitations and harder work. And if this be the case, no painter
+ought to think less of sculpture than of painting and no sculptor less of
+painting than of sculpture. By sculpture I mean the sort that is executed
+by cutting away from the block: the sort that is executed by
+building up resembles painting. That is enough, for as one and the other,
+that is to say, both painting and sculpture proceed from the same faculty,
+it would be an easy matter to establish harmony between them and to
+let such disputes alone, for they occupy more time than the execution
+of the figures themselves. As to that man [Leonardo da Vinci] who
+wrote saying that painting was more noble than sculpture, as though he
+knew as much about it as he did of the other subjects on which he has
+written, why my serving-maid would have written better!”</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>From Robert W. Carden, <cite>Michelangelo, a Record of his Life</cite>, Boston
+and New York, 1913, a book which from Michelangelo’s letters gives
+a very intimate view of the sculptor’s character.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Sir Joshua Reynolds on the Grand Style</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>No critic of art has better expressed the ideal of the Grand Style than
+Sir Joshua Reynolds. I quote from the third of his <cite>Discourses</cite>, in the
+admirable edition of Roger E. Fry, New York, 1906. pp. 51 ff.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Every language has adopted terms expressive of this excellence.
+The <i><span lang="it">gusto grande</span></i> of the Italians, the <i><span lang="fr">beau idéal</span></i> of the French and the
+<em>great style</em>, <em>genius</em> and <em>taste</em> among the English, are but different appellations
+of the same thing. It is this intellectual dignity, they say, that
+ennobles the Painter’s Art; that lays the line between him and the
+mere mechanic: and produces those great effects in an instant, which
+eloquence and poetry, by slow and repeated efforts, are scarcely able
+to retain....”  [The grand style is seen to rest upon a sort of generalizing
+tendency.] “The whole beauty and grandeur of the Art consists,
+in my opinion, in being able to get above all singular forms, local customs,
+particularities and details of every kind.” [The artist] “being
+enabled to distinguish the accidental deficiencies, excrescences, and
+deformities of things, from their general figures, he makes out an abstract
+idea of their forms more perfect than any one original; and, what
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>may seem a paradox, he learns to design naturally by drawing his figures
+unlike to any one object.” [Sir Joshua advocates the study of the antique,
+not to imitate any single work, but to master the principle that
+underlies them all.] “Beauty and simplicity have so great a share in
+the composition of the great style, that he who has acquired them has
+little else to learn. It must not, indeed, be forgotten that there is a
+nobleness of conception, which goes beyond any thing in the mere exhibition
+of perfect form; there is an art of animating and dignifying the
+figures with intellectual grandeur, of impressing the appearance of
+philosophic wisdom, or heroic virtue. This can only be acquired by
+him that enlarges the sphere of his understanding by a variety of knowledge,
+and warms his imagination with the best productions of ancient
+and modern poetry.”</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Kenyon Cox on the Classic Spirit</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>The ideals of the High Renaissance are eloquently, if incidentally,
+defined by the late Kenyon Cox in <cite>The Classic Point of View</cite>, New York,
+1911. pp. 3–5.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“The Classic spirit is the disinterested search for perfection; it is
+the love of clearness and reasonableness and self-control; it is, above
+all, the love of permanence and of continuity. It asks of a work of art,
+not that it shall be novel or effective, but that it shall be fine and noble.
+It seeks not merely to express individuality or emotion, but to express
+disciplined emotion and individuality restrained by law. It strives for
+the essential rather than the accidental, the eternal rather than the momentary—loves
+impersonality more than personality, and feels more
+power in the orderly succession of the hours and the seasons than in the
+violence of earthquake or of storm. And it loves to steep itself in tradition.
+It would have each new work connect itself in the mind of him
+who sees it with all the noble and lively works of the past, bringing
+them to his memory and making their beauty and charm a part of the
+beauty and charm of the work before him. It does not deny originality
+and individuality—they are as welcome as inevitable. It does not
+consider tradition as immutable or set rigid bounds to invention. But
+it desires that each new presentation of truth and beauty shall show us
+the old truth and the old beauty, seen only from a different angle and
+colored by a different medium. It wishes to add link by link to the chain
+of tradition, but it does not wish to break the chain.”</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>The End of the Renaissance and the Coming of Fear</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c018'>An artistic collapse whether in an artist or a nation is usually due to
+a prior collapse in morale. Florence suffered such loss of face when the
+Imperialists stormed the city and crushed the Republic. We may study
+the disaster in Michelangelo’s personal case and in its effect on the citizenry
+at large. Michelangelo was military engineer. Writing from Venice,
+Sept. 25, 1529, he describes his desertion with singular objectivity:</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“I had intended to remain in Florence to the end of the war, having
+no fears for my own safety. But on Tuesday morning, the 21st of September,
+a certain person came out by the Porta a San Nicolò while I
+was engaged in inspecting the bastions, and whispered in my ear that I
+must remain there no longer if I valued my life. He accompanied me to
+my house, dined there, brought me horses, and never left my side until
+he had carried me out of Florence, declaring that it was for my good that
+he so acted. Whether it were God or the devil I cannot say.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>From Robert W. Carden, <cite>Michelangelo, a Record of his Life</cite>, Boston
+and New York, 1913, p. 168.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Florence suffered not from hallucinations, as this seems to have been,
+but from the humiliation and confusion incident upon defeat and foreign
+occupation. I translate from Benedetto Varchi’s <cite>Storia</cite>, the extract in
+Ancona and Bacci’s <cite>Manuele della Letteratura Italiana</cite>, Vol. II, p. 506.</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>“The city of Florence when her liberty was lost was full of such
+sorrow, of such terror, of such confusion, that it can hardly be described
+or even imagined.... The nobles were indignant among themselves
+and inwardly resented being scorned and vilified by the lowest classes;
+the plebeians in extreme need, would not refrain at least from relieving
+their minds about the nobility; the rich, how they could manage not to
+lose their property; the poor, day and night, what they should do not
+to die utterly and of famine; the citizens were dismayed and desperate,
+because they had spent and lost a lot: the peasants, much more, because
+there remained for them nothing at all; the priests were ashamed of
+having deceived the laity; the laity grieved at having believed the
+priests; men had become extraordinarily suspicious and covetous;
+women immeasurably incredulous and distrustful: finally, every one
+with lowered face and staring eyes, seemed beside himself, and all without
+exception pallid and bewildered feared at all times every sort of ill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c020'>From such a shell-shocked community as this, no serene or noble
+art was to be expected. It was much that Florence in bondage still
+could nurture the exquisitely morbid art of a Pontormo and the aristocratic
+detachment and <i><span lang="fr">finesse</span></i> of a Bronzino.</p>
+
+<div id='f_207'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>
+<img src='images/f_207.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 207.</span> Giovanni Bellini. St. Francis receiving the Stigmata.—<em>H. C. Frick Coll., New York.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter VII</span></span><br> VENETIAN PAINTING BEFORE TITIAN</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='c011'>On the splendor of Venice—Italo-Byzantine painters of the 14th Century—Paduan,
+Veronese, and Umbrian Painters at Venice—Jacopo Bellini—Squarcione’s
+school at Padua, Carlo Crivelli—Andrea Mantegna, mentor
+for Northern Italy—Antonello da Messina’s Realism—The flowering
+of the old Narrative School in Gentile Bellino—Giovanni Bellini—The
+backward Vivarini—Carpaccio and the end of the old Narrative Style—Literary
+background of Giorgione’s Art—Giorgione of Castelfranco.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>When, about the middle of the fifth century, a pitiful throng
+of refugees sought safety from Attila and his Huns in the fens
+at the head of the Adriatic, they took with them what was
+left of the constructive genius of the Roman Empire. They
+raised amid the lagoons a healthful and convenient city, which
+in the course of centuries became the most beautiful in Europe.
+They developed a strong and wise oligarchy, under forms sufficiently
+democratic to satisfy the people. They attained an
+extraordinary capacity for diplomacy and overseas trade—a
+brilliant commercialized civilization. Secure in their isolation
+and wealth, the Venetians mediated the long strife between
+the popes and the Teutonic emperors, making favorable
+terms with both. Venice enjoyed a wholly exceptional political
+stability. No other commune of Europe could have fittingly
+assumed the title, Serenissima. Her galleys and sailing craft
+plied to Candia, Rhodes, Smyrna, Alexandretta, Constantinople.
+Down the Adriatic to Malta, her trading stations shone
+white under the yellow cliffs. Her incoming ships brought back
+the splendid rugs and silks and embroideries from the Levant,
+the beautiful potteries of Asia Minor, Persia and distant China,
+the veined marbles and porphyries of Egypt and of Istria to
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>build into her churches and palaces. She was astute and powerful
+enough to divert a crusade into a plundering expedition
+against her rival, Constantinople. And thus she got the four
+antique bronze horses still chafing above the portico of St.
+Mark’s and many a relic of the later Byzantine splendor.
+Her doors ever opened to the Orient. Her quays swarmed with
+turbaned traders. The Greeks had their churches and confraternities
+at Venice, and so had the Slavonians. For articles
+of luxury the northern caravans came to Venice over the
+Brenner to load from the German warehouses on the Grand
+Canal.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>So stable, rich and proud a city was singularly slow in producing
+its own art. Venice was never primarily a manufacturing
+community, and from the first she expected to import
+most articles of luxury and display. Thus when the manydomed
+Basilica rose over the body of her patron, St. Mark,
+Venice called masters from Constantinople to enrich the surfaces
+with mosaics, and when, towards the end of the fourteenth
+century, she wished to picture the new Palace of the Doges, she
+called not her own artists to the task, but those of Padua,
+Verona and distant Fabriano. Her originality and greatness
+in painting do not clearly assert themselves until about 1475
+in the work of the brothers Bellini, and by 1577, the year
+of Titian’s death, the period of her artistic supremacy has
+passed. The whole development is comprised within a century;
+its acceleration is even more remarkable than the tardiness
+of its appearance. In three generations Venetian painting made
+the progress that had required six in Tuscany, and the whole
+preparatory period, which in Florence stretched over a century
+and three-quarters, is included in the single life of such a master
+as Giovanni Bellini.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>This means that Venetian painting followed simpler and more
+unperturbed ideals than that of Florence. The composure,
+complacency, and self-centered quality of the Venetians was
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>a source of strength to their artists and as well a limitation.
+The city stuck closely to its chief business of gaining greatly
+in order to live magnificently. And unlike Florence, Venice
+interprets magnificence in the most material terms, in terms
+of velvet and veined marbles, fair skins and lustrous hair, in
+feasting and measured revelry, grave and gentle manners,
+colorful pageantry in honor of God, his saints and the Serenissima
+Republica. You will not find poets, scholars, scientists
+a-plenty at Venice. Her painters have no tendency to be also
+architects, sculptors, mathematicians, theorists in æsthetics;
+they stick placidly to the main business of painting. And perhaps
+just because the Venetian painter refused to be diverted
+from the problems proper to his craft, his progress was so rapid
+and assured, and the Venetian school, simply as painting, the
+most beautiful school of painting the world has ever seen.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was written in the lagoon itself that Venetian painting
+should be a school of color. Long before the marble and
+porphyry palaces and the shining bridges of Renaissance Venice
+spanned the canals, the brown water gave its satiny reflections
+of rude hut, coppered galley, tawny sail, and, in days of complete
+calm, of the serrated ivory of the Julian Alps or the velvety
+azure of the Euganean Hills. As the city grew palatially,
+the marble and gold of the palace fronts, and spires and domes,
+with the buff and red of soaring bell towers, further enriched
+the shimmering of the lagoon. Its waters were ruffled not
+merely by winds blending and effacing the weaving of borrowed
+colors, but also by the passing of gilded processional
+barges with rhythmical oars celebrating the Assumption of
+the Virgin or the marriage of Venice to the Adriatic.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Ashore the splendor was hardly less. Along the balustrades
+of innumerable little bridges, the rose or yellow marble got
+an ineffable finish from the touch of countless hands. Dusky
+archways gave upon courts encrusted with variegated marbles,
+porphyry and mosaics. In the gloomy streets, gay pictorial
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>frescoes enlivened the fronts of the less pretentious houses.
+In the great Piazza of St. Mark and other open spaces, often
+passed in solemn procession the religious confraternities called
+Schools, the members garbed with a splendor rare even in the
+Renaissance. There were clubs
+of young fops, not yet broken to
+the paternal commerce, who
+gave themselves to the invention
+and display of the finest tailoring
+and haberdashery. And the
+unorganized kindred activities of
+the women of all ages were as
+effective from the point of view
+of social display. Such was the
+spectacle that Venice offered the
+painter for record and even more
+for inspiration. And the greatness
+of the Venetian painters lay
+in their capacity to lend to this
+chiefly material splendor their
+own kind of ideality.</p>
+
+<div id='f_208'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_208.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 208.</span> Presentation; Flight to Egypt; Miracle at Cana; Temptation. From an Italo-Byzantine Altar-front of about 1350.—<em>Trieste.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>When Venetian painting about the year 1350 made its first
+timid assertions of originality, the leading influence was that
+of the late Byzantine artists of the Slavonian coast and the
+Ionian Islands. We see their narrative painting assuming a
+very slightly Italian guise in the composite altar-front preserved
+in the museum of Trieste. Figure <a href='#f_208'>208</a>. Its date cannot be
+very late in the fourteenth century, and the stereotyped
+religious compositions represent models vividly before the
+Venetian painter up to the Renaissance. Such Venetian masters
+as Paolo, active from 1332 to 1358, and Lorenzo, whose
+work falls a generation later, make slight and external improvements
+on the Byzantine manner.<a id='r70'></a><a href='#f70' class='c012'><sup>[70]</sup></a> They reject its more
+rigid formulas—the gold web over drapery, the multiplied
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>small folds, the painfully schematized muscles. They add on
+their own account radiant blond coloring, splendid brocades,
+more gorgeous fashions of gilding, and a new type of architectural
+arrangement. The elaborate altar-backs with perforated
+pilasters, and flamboyant arches and cresting; with full-length
+figures below and half-length of like scale above, become
+the standard form of Venetic <i><span lang="it">ancona</span></i> about 1350 and
+remains so for nearly a century and a half. We may see the
+form, with the upper central panel modernized, in Lorenzo’s
+Annunciation of 1357, in the Venetian Academy. The effect
+depends largely on the frame-maker. Such altar-pieces are
+made more thoughtfully by Caterino and Donato and indeed
+persist in all Northern Italy until after 1450. Figure <a href='#f_211'>211</a>.
+We may study a similar type of <i><span lang="it">ancona</span></i> with narratives
+instead of single figures in the very accomplished and colorful
+work doubtfully ascribed to Nicolo Semitecolo, towards
+the beginning of the new century. Though the narratives
+follow pretty closely the old Byzantine requirements, the
+whole surface shows the flower-bed variety and harmony of
+color which is proper to Venice. Such work, as a blend of Byzantine
+and Gothic features, repeats what Siena had effected
+with far greater originality and <i><span lang="fr">finesse</span></i> about seventy years
+earlier under Duccio and Simone Martini. Modena and Bologna
+and Padua through the latter half of the fourteenth century
+share this development, but again on a basis of rather
+marked inferiority to Siena.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Venetian authorities were fully conscious of the backwardness
+of their own artists. When the Ducal Palace was
+finished in 1365, they called to fresco its great hall not any of
+the various local followers of Paolo and Lorenzo, but Guariento
+from neighboring Padua. He executed the great Coronation of
+the Virgin which was later damaged by fire and covered by
+Tintoretto’s Paradise. The temporary removal of Tintoretto’s
+canvas showed for a time the crumbling remains of Guariento’s
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>fresco. It is in an elaborate Gothic-Byzantine style and abounds
+in incidental architectural ornament. Below the ceremony of
+the Coronation there is a screen of pierced marble niches occupied
+by graceful angels. It is a motive that will often recur in
+the new century. On the whole Guariento brings little new
+to Venice, but he does demonstrate the decorative possibilities
+of the local style. His influence was restricted because the
+Venetians soon ceased to work in fresco.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The impetus necessary to lift Venetian painting out of its
+routine condition was supplied in the fifteenth century by
+Gentile da Fabriano and Pisanello. Gentile, who worked in
+the Ducal Palace about 1410, commanded both the exquisiteness
+of the Sienese style and its narrative breadth. Unhappily
+his Venetian frescoes which are lauded in contemporary accounts
+have perished. His sweetness and ideality are attested by
+various Madonnas. We may infer his raciness and vivacity
+as a narrative painter from the predella of his master work,
+the Adoration of the Kings (1423). The little panel of the Presentation
+in the Temple is admirable for its architectural inscenation
+and for the actuality of its incidental figures. We
+have a man whose eye takes in the look of things. This is
+even more the case with Pisanello (1397–1455), who worked
+a little later in the same hall. He has severe notions of
+draughtsmanship, as befitted the greatest of all medallists.
+He brought from Verona, where his artistic ideas were formed,
+the ideal of elaborate and credible setting, especially as regards
+the relations of figures to architecture. In his ruined fresco
+of St. George of Verona, Figure <a href='#f_209'>209</a>, we may catch his quality.
+But the Veronese style is really better represented by such immediate
+predecessors as Avanzo and Altichiero. Jointly about
+1385 they frescoed the great Oratorio of St. George at Padua.
+Especially remarkable are the legends of the titular saint,
+Figure <a href='#f_210'>210</a>. Through repainting one may still discern the
+dignity and discretion of the arrangement, and in particular
+the just and tasteful elaboration of contemporary architectural
+features. Florentine and Sienese frescoes of the time are hardly
+as accomplished. The festal value of the architecture persists
+as a leading ideal of the school of Verona down to her greatest
+master, Paolo Veronese, and the ideal was taken up with
+conviction at Venice—became indeed the distinctive feature
+of her narrative school.</p>
+
+<div id='f_210'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>
+<img src='images/f_210.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 210.</span> Altichiero of Verona. St. George baptizes the Family of the Princess. Fresco.—<em>Oratory of St. George, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_209'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_209.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 209.</span> Pisanello. St. George meets the Princess. Fresco.—<em>Sant’ Anastasia. Verona.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>Jacopo Bellini,<a id='r71'></a><a href='#f71' class='c012'><sup>[71]</sup></a> the first great painter whom Venice herself
+developed, was the pupil of Gentile da Fabriano and also profoundly
+influenced by the Veronese. Thus he combines in
+himself the two main strains of early Venetian painting—its
+desire for sweetness and its desire for vivacity and elaborate
+truthfulness in narrative. Alongside of Jacopo Bellini
+worked the faithful imitators of Paolo, Lorenzo, and Guariento.
+Such artists as Jacobello del Fiore and Michele Giambono, while
+often inherently attractive, are of small importance. Their
+contemporary, Antonio Vivarini, though in most ways less
+sensitively the artist, prepared the way for the conservative
+school of Murano. Antonio’s quality is somewhat obscured
+by his habit of working with a German partner, Giovanni.
+Yet the part of Antonio, as represented by his altar-piece in
+the Vatican, dated 1464, Figure <a href='#f_211'>211</a>, seems to have been merely
+to build cautiously on the work of Guariento and Lorenzo.
+His nephew, Alvise, and his younger brother, Bartolommeo,
+become influential figures towards the end of the century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The hope of the future rested with that far more searching
+spirit, Jacopo Bellini. He gave to art not merely his own
+indefatigable curiosity but two sons of genius, Gentile and Giovanni.
+All the leading tendencies of the Early Renaissance
+in Venice originate with this remarkable family. We first meet
+Jacopo Bellini in 1424 as an assistant of Gentile da Fabriano
+and he worked on till 1470. The great decorative canvases
+which he made for the Ducal Palace, and for the Schools of
+St. Mark and St. John the Evangelist have perished, while
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>the few pictures remaining from his brush are mostly of late
+date and inadequately express his ambitions. His Madonnas
+at the Uffizi, Venice, Paris, and Milan retain the exquisite
+sweetness of his master’s vein. Their modest grace may be
+felt in the little Madonna, Figure <a href='#f_212'>212</a>, at Venice. Of admirable
+gentleness and spirit is the ornate Annunciation painted
+in 1444, in Sant’ Alessandro at Brescia. Its predella panels,
+although probably of student execution, show how definitely
+his narrative compositions derive from Altichiero and the
+Veronese.</p>
+
+<div id='f_211'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_211.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 211.</span> Antonio Vivarini. St. Antony (polychromed wood statue) and Saints. 1464.—<em>Vatican Gallery, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_212'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>
+<img src='images/f_212.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 212.</span> Jacopo Bellini. Madonna.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>But we get the full stature of
+the man, not from the minor
+paintings which chance has
+spared, but from the two extraordinary
+sketch books respectively
+in the Louvre and the
+National Gallery. Here we trace
+his day by day exercises. Perspective
+is his constant concern.
+He piles up elaborate architecture
+with an extravagance which
+even his Veronese exemplars
+never ventured. The subject
+matter gets lost in the setting.
+The Annunciation becomes a
+mere episode in an architectural extravaganza. So does the
+Feast of Herod, Figure <a href='#f_213'>213</a>. The buildings generally are of
+ornate Early Renaissance type. He loves to adorn them with
+swags and statues and low reliefs. Sometimes he sketches
+actual Roman sculptures and coins, medallions, and inscriptions.
+He makes strange, stern backgrounds for his outdoor
+scenes, with twisted stratified mountains and stately distant
+cities. He loves wild beasts; draws capital horses for St.
+George or for Perseus. He is a bit of a humanist, doing bacchanals,
+with mischievous satyrs. There are a few fine portraits
+and designs for Madonnas. Thus these sketches with
+the silver point and quill pen anticipate every mode of the
+next generation—the narrative style, the altar-piece, the
+pastoral mythology. One feels in the sketch books a nature
+rather alert and curious than thorough—a certain lack of
+concentration and real seriousness. But the sketches evince
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>an inexhaustible fancy, and if they are ever published cheaply,
+they should rival in popularity the most loved picture-books
+of fairyland. Jacopo was not only a versatile but a travelled
+artist. Active for a time at the brilliant court of Lionello
+d’Este at Ferrara, he had also visited Florence and probably
+Rome. But his most important move as regards the history
+of art, was to Padua, about 1453. There the whole course of
+Venetian painting was shaped by the apparently casual fact
+that an austere young painter named Andrea Mantegna fell in
+love with Jacopo’s daughter, Niccolosia, and married her.
+Through that alliance, the most formidable of brothers-in-law
+became the artistic mentor of Gentile and Giovanni Bellini.</p>
+
+<div id='f_213'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_213.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 213.</span> Jacopo Bellini. The Feast of Herod (in upper right loggia).—<em>From the Paris Sketch Book.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For a moment, indeed, Padua and Mantegna quite efface
+Venice in interest. For ten years before this lucky marriage,
+Padua had been the scene of intense artistic activity. Donatello,
+the most powerful realist sculptor of Florence, was at
+work on the bronze reliefs for the altar of Sant’ Antonio, and
+on the Gattamelata statue. He gave young Mantegna a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>strong impulse in the direction of constructive realism. Such
+Florentine realists as Paolo Uccello and Fra Filippo Lippi
+were also transient visitors at this time. And Padua, ever an
+academic city, saw the first systematic art school started by
+a shrewd and able master, Francesco Squarcione. Squarcione
+collected Roman marbles and bronzes, concerned himself with
+the new mysteries of perspective, foreshortening and precise
+anatomy. He made his students acquire a line with the resiliency
+of bronze. He made them copy minutely veined
+marbles and sculptured reliefs. He insisted that every picture
+should have garlands of laurel mixed with vegetables and fruits.
+The whole surface had to be brought to the lustrous surface of
+an enamel. Severe teaching usually attracts good pupils.
+So it was in Squarcione’s case; he had scores of pupils from all
+of the Venetic region and even from Dalmatia beyond the
+Adriatic. He was too sensible to paint much himself; it
+didn’t pay so successful a teacher. So the few pictures ascribed
+to him are either of small importance or of dubious authenticity.
+But his stamp is on all his pupils. What his teaching
+meant may be grasped in early Mantegna and even better in a
+painter who never emancipated himself—Carlo Crivelli, of
+Venice, “Eques Aureatus.”</p>
+
+<div id='f_214'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>
+<img src='images/f_214.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 214.</span> Carlo Crivelli. Madonna. Angels bearing Symbols of the Passion.—<em>Verona.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_215'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_215.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 215.</span> Carlo Crivelli. Pietà.—<em>Boston.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Crivelli’s<a id='r72'></a><a href='#f72' class='c012'><sup>[72]</sup></a> fame was great but provincial. Originally most
+of his altar-pieces adorned churches of the Adriatic Marches.
+Dozens have passed thence to the museums of Europe and
+America. One and all they seem less painted things than the
+most splendid of mineral productions. It is incredible that
+mere brush and paint can achieve so tense a line and such
+jewel-like surfaces. Entirely typical is an early Madonna, at
+Verona, Figure <a href='#f_214'>214</a>. The great ancona of 1476 in the
+National Gallery shows him faithful to the arrangements of
+the early Venetians. The Annunciation, in the same gallery,
+painted ten years later, reveals him affected by the narrative
+tradition of Jacopo Bellini. In America fine Pietàs at Boston,
+Figure <a href='#f_215'>215</a>, New York, and in the Johnson Collection, Philadelphia,
+exemplify his rectitude and energy. While Mrs.
+Gardner’s St. George and the Dragon, as the most fastidious
+of fairy tales, consoles us for the absence of this subject among
+the few pictures of Jacopo Bellini. From his beginnings about
+1460 to his death in 1493, Carlo Crivelli remained true to his
+early teaching. Whoever understands his works has little
+need to consult further the entirely similar achievement of
+such great Ferrarese painters as Marco Zoppo (1440 ca.–1498)
+and Cosimo Tura (1430 ca.–1495). The influence of Squarcione
+passed to the conservative painters at Venice, and influenced the
+entire Murano school. We have a resplendent masterpiece of
+this sort in the single known work of Antonio da Negroponte,
+Figure <a href='#f_216'>216</a>, in San Francesco della Vigna, at Venice. It combines
+with its evident Squarcionesque features, the magnificence of the old Gothic-Byzantine style, and much of
+the sweetness of Jacopo Bellini. Its date is about 1450, and the
+picture is an excellent point of departure for our understanding
+of the radical reform that came
+into Venice and all Lombardy
+with the activity of Andrea
+Mantegna.</p>
+
+<div id='f_216'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>
+<img src='images/f_216.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 216.</span> Fra Antonio da Negroponte. Madonna.—<em>S. Francesco della Vigna.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>Born in 1431 at Vicenza, we
+find Mantegna<a id='r73'></a><a href='#f73' class='c012'><sup>[73]</sup></a> enrolled at the
+tender age of thirteen in the
+painters’ guild at Padua. He is
+described as an adoptive son
+of Squarcione. Mantegna was
+scarcely twenty-four when he
+engaged with other fellow pupils
+to decorate a chapel in the
+Church of the Eremitani, the
+subject being the legends of St.
+James and St. Christopher. In the six panels assigned to
+Mantegna, his quality and superiority are already manifest.
+His style is severely archæological and Roman. He endeavors
+honestly to reconstruct the times of the apostles. But his
+method is more severe than that of the Romans themselves.
+The line moves with the slow authority of an engraved contour.
+The relief is dry and harsh. There is little sense of
+difference between living forms and sculptured figures. The
+landscape is built in spiral strata as if worked out of metal.
+Here transpires clearly the influence of Jacopo Bellini, which
+is as evident also in the ornate architectural settings. The
+colors are at once dull and garish, the textures scrupulously
+studied after Squarcione’s precepts. A most strenuous art
+this, and with all its pedantry full of power and dignity.</p>
+
+<div id='f_217'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_217.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 217.</span> Mantegna. St. James led to Execution. Fresco.—<em>Eremitani, Padua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Certain innovations in perspective should be noted. In the
+fresco, St. James led to Execution, Figure <a href='#f_217'>217</a>, Mantegna
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>avoids the usual conventional perspective, which tilts the picture
+towards the spectator; and treats the group as if it were
+on an actual stage set at the height of the fresco. Thus no
+ground is seen; the projecting floor cuts off the feet of the figures;
+and all vanishing points are precisely set at the level of
+the spectator’s eye below. The aim is to create illusion.</p>
+
+<div id='f_218'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_218.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 218.</span> Andrea Mantegna. Madonna with Saints.—<em>San Zeno, Verona.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Before the completion of the Eremitani frescoes, Mantegna
+had married Niccolosia Bellini, had profited largely by her
+father’s advice, and had influenced strongly her two brothers,
+Gentile and Giovanni. They seem to have been the first
+eager pupils of the man who was soon to be the artistic schoolmaster
+for all Northern Italy. Two years after his marriage,
+in 1455, Mantegna liberated himself from legal bondage to
+Squarcione, and soon after began the masterpiece of his developed
+Renaissance style, the altar-back for San Zeno Maggiore
+at Verona, Figure <a href='#f_218'>218</a>. It was finished in 1459, the
+artist being twenty-eight years old. It is a little over-rich,
+finished throughout like a miniature, and very stately. In
+arrangement it obeys the artist’s new law of illusion. The
+base of the picture is precisely at the level of the eye, so no
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>floor is seen. The carved classical frame is regarded as the
+front of an actual pavillion which is continued in paint. Without
+the frame, the architectural perspective of the picture
+would not explain itself, and if the picture were set higher
+or lower all the perspective relations would be wrong. At
+Siena, a century and more earlier, the Lorenzetti had devised
+this motive of an open box of which the frame is the plastic front.
+Mantegna made this sort of illusionism standard for Venice
+and all Northern Italy. Its value is open to question, but
+I believe that the monumental altar-pieces of Mantegna and
+Giovanni Bellini gain something in gravity and stability from
+this careful adjustment of the perspective to the actual position
+of the spectator. At any rate it was the rigid logic and
+probity of Mantegna that gave to Venetian art precisely
+the tonic stimulus it needed.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>By thirty he was famous, and yielding to repeated persuasion,
+he left Padua for Mantua and the court of the most
+generous art patrons of the moment, the Gonzagas. His
+most notable work for them was the decoration of the Camera
+degli Sposi, 1474, in their great palace, and the canvases of
+the triumphs of Cæsar, 1481 to 1494, which, sadly damaged and
+repainted, are now seen at Hampton Court. The two series
+represent strikingly the dual and never completely harmonized
+strains in Mantegna’s genius—realism and archaism. He
+was never more the realist than in the room decorated in honor
+of the marriage of Lodovico Gonzaga and Barbara of Brandenburg,
+the Camera degli Sposi. The motives are wholly novel—no
+religious subjects, nothing mythological, just the Gonzaga
+family and their courtiers, sitting in conversation, meeting
+ceremoniously, or preparing for the hunt. Nowhere before had
+such a consistent use of the principle of illusionism been made,
+not even in Roman mural painting of the Antonine age. Mantegna
+has completely painted away the real walls of the room,
+and has replaced the real architecture by a simulated classical
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>pavillion, with arcades looking out to the country side and
+a round opening above. All the figures are out of doors. To
+see the scheme properly you must stand precisely in the centre
+of the room and turn on your heel. The arrangement in short
+is periscopic. As you look up you will see a balcony with
+cupids, Figure <a href='#f_219'>219</a>, standing on the outside ledge and maids
+of honor and peacocks looking down over the balustrade.
+You see everything feet foremost as if it were actually there.
+Then you look out through the arcades where the view of outside
+doings is sometimes interrupted by a curtain. Generally
+it is drawn aside that you may see these great folk at ease outside
+their pleasure house, Figure <a href='#f_220'>220</a>. The portraits are of
+utmost dignity and authority. In dealing with real people
+Mantegna’s style is less pinched than in his classical decorations.
+If I have insisted on the point of illusionism, it is only
+because the audacious logic of Correggio and a host of baroque
+followers for a century and more really grows out of this scheme
+at Mantua. You will see the open well with figures outside
+the parapet in Correggio’s dome at Parma, and the figures
+outside the painted roof in the Convent of St. Paolo. Indeed,
+you have only to let the clouds come down through
+such open roofs and seat decorative figures on the clouds to
+arrive at the fully developed baroque style. And it is odd
+enough that its most romantic extravagances are clearly deducible
+from this rather sober and pedantic illusionism of
+Andrea Mantegna.</p>
+
+<div id='f_219'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_219.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 219.</span> Mantegna. Detail of Ceiling.—<em>Camera degli Sposi, Mantua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_220'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>
+<img src='images/f_220.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 220.</span> Mantegna. Portraits of the Gonzaga Family. Fresco.—<em>Camera degli Sposi, Mantua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of the painted cloths representing the Triumphs of Cæsar,
+Figure <a href='#f_221'>221</a>, (1484–1492), nine remain in debased condition at
+Hampton Court, England. Here the classicism of Mantegna
+finds its most legitimate expression. The designs are better
+seen in the engravings of his school and in the later woodcut
+copies by Andreini.</p>
+
+<div id='f_221'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>
+<img src='images/f_221.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 221.</span> Mantegna. Triumph of Cæsar.—<em>Hampton Court, England.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Despite such great commissions, Mantegna lived in something
+near poverty. He could never resist a beautiful antique,
+and he was proud and difficult in his relations to exacting
+patrons. His style after his Roman visit of 1488 to 1490 loses
+something of its tension and develops breadth. Perhaps the
+most impressive picture of this time is the Madonna of Victory,
+Figure <a href='#f_222'>222</a>, in the Louvre, which was painted in 1495 to celebrate
+Gianfrancesco Gonzaga’s drawn battle with the French
+at Fornovo. Its severity is mollified by the graciousness of the
+evergreen bower in which the group is set and by the contrasting
+seriousness of St. Elizabeth and the kneeling donor. These
+figures forecast a mystical and tender quality in certain of
+the later Madonnas.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>In his last years Mantegna undertook an attractive but
+difficult task in decorating the study of the famous bluestocking,
+Isabella d’Este, wife of Gianfrancesco. With the
+pertinacity of a suffragette born
+out of due time, this great lady
+framed the most elaborate written
+programmes, upon the literal
+accomplishment of which she
+insisted. Her correspondence
+with such unfortunate protegés
+as Perugino and Lorenzo Costa
+is among the delightful eccentricities
+of Renaissance annals.
+The resultant decorations reflect
+the sophisticated and somewhat
+brittle grace of Isabella’s own
+personality. None are better
+than those of Mantegna which
+were done about the year 1500.
+His Parnassus, Figure <a href='#f_223'>223</a>, with
+its romantically picturesque gods
+and godesses, and its admirable
+round of dancing muses, is the
+best that Northern Italy can show in comparison with Botticelli’s
+mythologies, unless it be the companion piece, Minerva
+expelling the Vices, Figure <a href='#f_224'>224</a>, which is wonderful alike in
+energy, inventiveness and grotesque humor, anticipating in
+its mood similar refinements in Spenser’s “Faerie Queene”
+and Milton’s “Comus.” Mantegna in these works becomes
+the true precursor of that poetic pastoralism which in
+Giorgione soon dominates the Venetian scene.</p>
+
+<div id='f_222'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_222.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 222.</span> Mantegna. Madonna of Victory.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_223'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>
+<img src='images/f_223.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 223.</span> Mantegna. Parnassus.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_224'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_224.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 224.</span> Mantegna. Minerva Expelling the Vices.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>Mantegna lived on, none too well treated by the younger
+Gonzagas, until 1506. To relieve his poverty he offered for
+sale his most treasured marble, an Agrippina. He left in his
+studio his most rigid and painful piece,—the Foreshortened
+Christ he called it. All his probity is in the picture. For
+Giovanni Bellini and others it served as the highest model of
+the tragic style, and it refutes the shallow views of such as
+find Mantegna merely academic and cold. He left many
+engravings and marvellous drawings in which perhaps better
+than in the paintings we may feel the exquisiteness of his
+austerely fastidious taste. Such a drawing as the Judith in
+the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_225'>225</a>, is an epitome of all that Mantegna had
+to bequeath to the Renaissance.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Well his contemporaries knew the value of his example.
+It rebuked the slackness of their own practice. Alongside
+the exquisitely modelled foot of his St. Sebastian in the Louvre,
+stands the severed marble foot from a Greek statue. As
+he ever measured his work against the antique, so the
+painters of Milan, Vicenza, Ferrara, Verona and Venice had
+to measure their work against his. And that simple act of
+honest comparison in a single generation furthered the art of
+Northern Italy to a degree that in Tuscany it had taken a
+century to attain.</p>
+
+<div id='f_225'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>
+<img src='images/f_225.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 225.</span> Andrea Mantegna. Judith. Wash Drawing.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_226'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>
+<img src='images/f_226.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 226.</span>—Antonello da Messina. The Condottiere.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_227'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_227.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 227.</span> Antonello da Messina. St. Jerome in his Study.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>At the moment when Mantegna’s influence was at its height,
+it was happily modified in a realistic direction by the advent
+of Antonello da Messina.<a id='r74'></a><a href='#f74' class='c012'><sup>[74]</sup></a> Despite recent discoveries, the
+career of this great Sicilian realist remains obscure. Vasari
+imagined him a traveler in Flanders and a direct pupil of
+Jan van Eyck, whose invention of oil painting he was believed
+to have adopted. The legend is thoroughly discredited by newly
+discovered documents. Antonello came up in Sicily under the
+influence of visiting Spanish masters. From them he caught at
+second hand the point of view of Northern realism, from them
+he learned the advantages of the more fluid and lustrous oil
+vehicle. But he must also have seen and carefully studied
+fine paintings of the Flemish school. There were such in Sicily
+and at Naples. Antonello emerges about 1470 as the most
+energetic and truthful draughtsman of his time, and a portraitist
+of powerful character equipped with a new and better
+technique. In 1475 he was in Venice and Lombardy. Such
+portraits as the captain of mercenaries, Il Condottiere, Figure
+<a href='#f_226'>226</a>, at the Louvre, immediately set the standard for the entire
+region. We no longer find flat profiles, but heads perfectly
+drawn in three-quarters aspect, modelled minutely, but with
+no loss of character and effect. No such eye as Antonello’s,
+unless it were that of Piero della Francesca, had as yet applied
+itself to the problems of painting. Whether in the nude, in
+his St. Sebastians and Crucifixions, or in his rare interiors,
+such as the St. Jerome in his Study, Figure <a href='#f_227'>227</a>, in the National
+Gallery, he announced new perfections in lighting, modelling
+and perspective. He painted for the Church of San Cassiano
+at Venice a stately and massive Madonna which led the local
+painters in the direction of mass and monumentality. Recent
+criticism has recognised the mutilated central panel in the
+Vienna gallery. Antonello’s work imposes itself primarily
+by its mere intensity of existence. It has no charm, and no
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>especial emotion. Precisely this impersonality makes it an admirable
+and safe model. Before his coming the Venetians had
+experimented with oil mediums, but they gladly adopted his lustrous
+enamels, and strong shadows. He returned soon to his
+native Sicily, where he died in 1479, but his brief sojourn in
+the North had left its stamp. Montagna of Vicenza, Cima of
+Conegliano, Buonsignori of Verona, Alvise Vivarini of Venice
+are among his conscious emulators, and all the figure painting
+of Venice assumes new gravity and authority. And we
+may mark his influence even in the leading masters of the new
+school, Gentile and Giovanni Bellini.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The tardy emergence of these two brothers of genius is
+one of the puzzles of the Venetian school. Neither makes
+any impression till he is in his forties, and their work has no
+directive influence till after 1480. The simplest explanation
+is that of Mr. Berenson. He suggests that the brothers loyally
+contented themselves with the position of partners in their
+father’s <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> until his death in 1470. From that moment
+their progress is swift. Giovanni enlarges the style of the
+altar-piece in a Renaissance and monumental sense, and later
+moves gradually in a pastoral direction. Gentile brings to
+its perfection the complicated narrative style of his father.
+Both paint admirable portraits. Since Gentile is less an innovator
+than a perfector of an established mode, we may well
+begin with him.</p>
+
+<div id='f_228'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>
+<img src='images/f_228.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 228.</span> Gentile Bellini. Sultan Mahomet II.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_229'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_229.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 229.</span> Gentile Bellini. A Turkish Youth. Miniature.—<em>Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Such early works as the organ shutters of St. Mark’s and
+the processional banner with the portrait of the Blessed
+Lorenzo Giustiniani, 1465, show that he based himself on
+Mantegna. His career, however, is associated with narrative
+mural paintings for the schools, in which work he developes
+a real originality. Whatever he painted in 1466 for the Great
+School of St. Mark was soon destroyed in a fire. It was presumably
+the fame of these canvases that got him in 1469 the
+titles of knight and count palatine. In 1479, being fifty years
+old, he was called to Constantinople to serve that cruel voluptuary,
+Sultan Mahomet II. Gentile’s portrait of him, now in
+the National Gallery, Figure <a href='#f_228'>228</a>, is an appalling piece of
+exact characterization. One feels the malignity of a character
+softened by vices, but retaining all mental lucidity and capacities
+for both cruelty and calculated self-indulgence. A more
+amiable souvenir of this trip is the exquisite miniature portrait
+of a young Moslem prince, Figure <a href='#f_229'>229</a>, which is at Fenway
+Court. Gentile brought back to Venice the new title of Pasha.
+We do not find him about his proper work until 1492, when he
+agrees to do “not for money but by superhuman inspiration”
+the new canvases necessitated by the fire in the Great School
+of St. Mark.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The greatest of these is the view of the Piazza of St. Mark’s
+with the procession made by the School itself on Corpus
+Christi day, Figure <a href='#f_230'>230</a>. In the centre is their venerated
+relic of the True Cross. About it attention is fixed and almost
+military, relaxing gradually at the sides. There are hundreds
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>of figures and scores of portraits in the picture, yet there is no
+smallness of presentation. Such eighteenth century town
+painters as Canale and his followers could hardly improve
+upon the truthfulness of the scene as regards light and air
+even. Its value as record is immense. And, barring a certain
+stiffness, its value as art is hardly less.</p>
+
+<div id='f_230'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_230.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 230.</span> Gentile Bellini. Corpus Christi Procession in Piazza of S. Marco.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Another panel from this series shows Gentile’s really great
+capacity as an out-of-doors painter. It represents the miraculous
+recovery of the reliquary of the cross which had fallen
+into the canal. How perfectly the play of light over the
+encrusted and plastered palaces is felt, its shimmer upon
+the smooth water and through the moving crowds! In the
+essentials of <em>plein-airisme</em> we moderns have not so much
+surpassed this work. And if Gentile seems after all not quite
+a great artist, it is due to that impassivity which is proper to
+a luminist. With equal realism, Gentile’s imitator, Carpaccio,
+added sentiment, hence he is beloved and Gentile ignored. Yet
+early Venetian narrative painting is complete with Gentile,
+and from every consideration of naturalism it is immensely
+superior to anything produced at Florence in this period. It
+gains all the smaller points of representation with the most
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>amazing ease, perhaps because it waives the greater issue of
+monumentality. It is well put together, but shows little selection,
+is even at its best rather casually full of persons and things.
+This produces, as compared with Florence, an odd reversal of
+conditions. The altar-piece, which in Florence is rather intimate,
+is in Venice far the most monumental type of painting.
+We study the development of monumental design better in
+Giovanni Bellini’s altar-backs than in his brother’s narratives.
+To Gentile, at once a searching spirit in details and a conservative
+on the whole, it must have been a great satisfaction
+to have perfected the narrative mode that his father had so
+brilliantly inaugurated.</p>
+
+<div id='f_231'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_231.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 231.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Pietà.—<em>Milan.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>After 1500, being in the seventies and ailing, old Gentile
+acquired the ominous habit of frequently making and unmaking
+wills. His last one, which became effective in 1507, left
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>to his vigorous brother, Giovanni, the precious paternal sketch books
+and the heavy duty of finishing for St. Mark’s School
+the vast Canvas of St. Mark Preaching at Alexandria, which
+is now at Milan. Giovanni was nearly eighty himself, but he
+put the great work through handsomely.</p>
+
+<div id='f_232'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_232.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 232.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Christ at Gethsemane.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giovanni Bellini<a id='r75'></a><a href='#f75' class='c012'><sup>[75]</sup></a> was a natural son, but as was the humane
+Italian custom, taken into his father’s family. He was born
+about 1430, and his early efforts were completely dominated
+by Mantegna. Indeed he hardly finds himself artistically
+until he is fifty, and then he develops a most gracious capacity
+for growth which ceases only with his death at eighty-five.
+Of the score of pictures which are Mantegnesque in quality
+the earliest and most remarkable is the Pietà at Milan, Figure
+<a href='#f_231'>231</a>. In the tragic power it outdoes Mantegna himself, and
+with all its hardness, it is more painter-like. The distribution
+of light and dark is broader, the expression more homely and
+genuine. Only a little later, perhaps towards 1470, is the
+Christ on the Mount of Olives, at London, Figure <a href='#f_232'>232</a>. With
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>a very similar picture by Mantegna in the same gallery, it
+is based on a sketch of Jacopo Bellini’s. Although Giovanni
+frankly imitates the rigid folds of drapery and landscape from
+Mantegna, it is with a distinct
+difference. The mood is gentler,
+details are less obtrusive, there
+is an exquisite sense of evening
+sky, and of hills in gloom, and
+of the coming of twilight over
+a river plain. It is the first
+greatly felt landscape in Venetian
+painting, and though Giovanni
+was far to surpass it in
+fineness and accuracy, even he
+never excelled it in depth and
+truthfulness of feeling. The
+serenity of the eventide is the
+fitting foil to Our Lord’s single
+moment of human weakness and
+despair.</p>
+
+<div id='f_233'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_233.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 233.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Madonna.—<em>Estate Theodore Davis.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giovanni’s early Madonnas are singularly various. We
+have one very stately and tender in the estate of Theodore M.
+Davis, Figure <a href='#f_233'>233</a>. The Madonna in the John G. Johnson
+collection, Philadelphia, is wistful and emaciated. One belonging
+to Mr. Philip Lehman, New York, is of sensuous, peasant
+type, while the painting, unlike the soberness of the two
+earlier ones, shows the utmost resplendence of Mantegnesque
+enamels. Its date may be about 1470. So we see Giovanni
+wholly flexible and experimental at forty, and developing
+chiefly under Mantegna’s influence.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giovanni’s emancipation from Mantegna takes place very
+gradually. It is virtually complete in the Transfiguration,
+Figure <a href='#f_234'>234</a>, at Naples which may be dated towards 1480.
+Bellini asserts himself fully in the gracious monumentality of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>the chief group, while his Arcadian mood is forecast in the ample
+landscape softly invested with a colorful light and shade.
+There is a more specific emotion and a more romantic richness
+of setting in St. Francis receiving the Stigmata, Figure <a href='#f_207'>207</a>,
+Frick Collection, which may be a year or two later. These are
+both Wordsworthian pictures, imbued with a mystical tenderness
+for natural appearances. Such are the sources from which
+Giorgione will soon draw his pagan pastoralism.</p>
+
+<div id='f_234'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_234.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 234.</span> Giovanni Bellini. The Transfiguration.—<em>Naples.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Towards 1480 Giovanni Bellini’s work assumes monumental
+breadth, and withal a new sweetness. His Madonnas settle
+into what was to be the Venetian type—superb, mature forms
+at once queenly and maternal. Earlier there had been no
+Madonna type in his work but a singular variety of forms and
+faces. In generalizing the stately charm of Venetian motherhood,
+Giovanni moves towards the grand style, and does so
+nearly twenty years sooner than the Florentines. His characteristic
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>works are now great altar-pieces, with monumental distribution
+of the figures within fine architectural spaces. Generally
+the frame is a part of the pictorial organism, the plastic
+front of a pavillion. It is about the only survival of Mantegna’s
+practice in these solemn and gracious pictures. Unluckily
+the first of the series perished in 1867 in the disastrous
+fire which robbed us also of Titian’s Death of St. Peter Martyr.
+But surviving copies of this altar-back for the Church of S.
+Giovanni e Paolo confirm the tradition that it was painted
+well before 1480. In its arrangement and details, especially
+in the tendency to crowd the many figures forward, it reveals
+to me the influence of Antonello da Messina’s great altar-piece
+for San Cassiano. It had apparently a somewhat rigid
+formality like that of the slightly earlier piece at Pesaro.
+Bellini is not yet quite at ease in his new and broader style,
+but he has at least glimpsed the ideal of monumentality and
+acquired a new technique, that
+of oil painting, in which to express
+it.</p>
+
+<div id='f_235'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_235.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 235.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Madonna with Saints.—<em>Frari, Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_235a'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>
+<img src='images/f_235a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 235</span><em>a.</em>> Giovanni Bellini. Madonna of St. Job.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We find him full-grown in the
+noble Madonna of St. Job, Figure
+<a href='#f_235a'>235a</a>, made for the church of
+that name about 1484 and now
+in the Venice Academy. In this
+picture the new Venetian ideals
+of ardor and gravity unite harmoniously
+with the old ideal of
+material splendor. What playings
+of light and half-lights there
+are over mosaics, polished marbles
+and carvings! How admirably
+the strict symmetry of the
+group is relieved by varying the postures of the six saints
+and by contrasting the sober garb of the monkish saints with
+the superb nudity of Saints Job and Sebastian and the shimmering
+silks of the playing angels below. And the great
+picture, with all its monumentality, retains much of that old
+lyrical fire, which is gradually yielding to more sedate and
+reflective aims.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>We shall find the two great Madonnas of 1488, for the
+Frari, Figure <a href='#f_235'>235</a>, and for St. Peter’s at Murano, conceived
+more impassively. For the city church, Bellini insisted on
+hieratic effect and incidental splendors, reverting to the form
+of the triptych and arranging it after Mantegna’s fashion with
+the frame and picture in one perspective. It is perhaps the
+grandest as it is the most formal of his altar-backs, consciously
+regal in the attitude of the Virgin, with saints as magisterial
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>as so many Venetian senators. For the suburban church at
+Murano he set the Madonna low amid her paladins and opened
+up delicious landscape vistas at the sides. The thing, with
+all its dignity, is lyrical, and almost intimate. It anticipates
+the mood of the later open-air Sacred Conversations.</p>
+
+<div id='f_236'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_236.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 236.</span>—Giovanni Bellini. Madonna with St. Paul and St. George.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the nineties and the early years of the new century,
+masterpiece follows masterpiece, and we must proceed by
+selection. Giovanni invents a charming form of altar-piece
+for private chapels. These Madonnas and saints at half-length have already the mood of the later conversation pieces,
+and need only the less symmetrical scheme which Bellini’s
+pupil, Titian, will soon give them. For harmony one might
+prefer the Madonna with two female saints, or for robust
+contrast and vitality the Madonna with two burly military
+champions, Figure <a href='#f_236'>236</a>. Both are in the Venetian Academy.</p>
+
+<div id='f_237'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>
+<img src='images/f_237.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 237.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Madonna of the Trees.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The single, half-length Madonnas, Figure <a href='#f_237'>237</a>, of this period
+are counted by scores, and are in many public and private
+collections in Europe and America. They are singularly uniform
+in inspiration, and yet the
+mood is so rich and noble that
+an apparent monotony is never
+cloying. Bellini’s gift in these
+pictures is to combine a kind of
+serene obviousness with great
+delicacy. There are hints of
+wistfulness and sadness through
+the series, but such sentiments
+are never much insisted on. The
+real mysticism of these pictures
+is nothing but the notation of
+the most natural and mysterious
+thing in the world—the bond
+between mother and babe, the
+pride of it, the exclusiveness of
+it, the joyous burden of it. Art could hardly be less theological
+or more genuinely religious than in these Madonnas. I
+think no human being could miss either their naturalness or
+their sacredness.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>As Giovanni Bellini approached the scriptural term of
+years, and the century drew to its close, he cultivates by way
+of recreation certain old leads which become new and powerful
+influences on his successors. The element of tact in the man
+is miraculous. He does nothing till the time has come when the
+doing will be most useful. Thus such pastoral recreations as
+the Religious Allegory in the Uffizi, Figure <a href='#f_238'>238</a>, and the little
+symbolical panels in the Venice Academy lead directly to the
+fantastic Arcadianism of Giorgione. The Religious Allegory
+is vaguely an illustration for the old French poem “Man’s
+Pilgrimage.” We have a Paradise, with the new souls in infant
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span>form. The apostles Peter and Paul stand guard outside
+the celestial barrier, while the Madonna presides within.
+Beyond a dark stream is the hazardous world, a place of caverns
+and crags, and hermits and centaurs; of mystery and uncertainty.
+Perhaps Giovanni Bellini cared rather more for the
+darkling shadows over water and river bank, for the broken
+light under a veiled sky than for the formal allegory. Certainly
+the element of strangeness and glamour is evident
+enough in the five little panels depicting virtues and vices.
+Again the faery quality, our earth grown strange to us, is the
+basis of the charm. We have noted similar fantastic inventions
+at Florence, notably in the work of Piero di Cosimo.
+Bellini evokes a more normal poetry which is based on a more
+intimate study of nature. Such landscapes as his, even when
+unpeopled, suggest nymphs and shepherds.</p>
+
+<div id='f_238'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_238.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 238.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Religious Allegory, Souls in Paradise.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_240'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>
+<img src='images/f_240.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 240.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Doge Loredano.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_239'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_239.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 239.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Madonna with Saints.—<em>S. Zaccaria.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>At seventy, at the opening of the new century, Giovanni
+Bellini’s mind was still flexible, so much so that we hardly
+know whether he leads or follows such pupils of genius as
+Titian and Giorgione. His color acquires a deeper glow, his
+warm shadows are heavier and more carefully graduated; he
+drops his few remaining Mantegnesque habits. In the
+Madonna for San Zaccaria,
+Figure <a href='#f_239'>239</a>, dated 1505, we have
+no longer the illusionistic perspective
+of the altar-pieces of the
+’80s. The group is set well back,
+the suffusion of the niche with
+air is more dense, the saintly
+figures have exchanged the old
+resolute, hieratic attitudes for a
+gentle dreaminess; the mood is
+that of Giorgione’s contemporary
+altar-piece at Castelfranco. In
+the portrait of Doge Loredano,
+Figure <a href='#f_240'>240</a>, of the same year
+resolution and wistfulness blend fascinatingly. The delineation
+has the force and certainty of Antonello da Messina
+with a refinement Antonello
+never even glimpsed.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In these later years Giovanni
+Bellini multiplied, largely
+through student aid, conversation
+pieces with gracious
+gatherings of saints in the open
+air. The mood is that of courtly
+revery. Titian and Palma will
+later repeat the theme indefinitely.
+One of the best is at S.
+Francesco della Vigna, and bears
+the date 1507. It is an idyl
+borrowing religious forms. In
+the altar-piece painted in 1513,
+Figure <a href='#f_241'>241</a>, for the church of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>S. Giovanni Crisostomo, Giambellino anticipates the new
+and compositional forms of the rising generation. The rich
+architecture opens upon a contemplative old man reading on
+a crag, with majestic mountain
+lines behind him athwart a
+serene sky. Everything above
+is off centre and diagonal, stability
+being preserved by the
+great vertical figures of the
+saints in the foreground, and by
+the formality of the parapet
+behind them. We have almost
+a picture within a picture, the
+maximum of formality and informality,
+of nature and artifice—all
+those elaborate and calculated
+beauties which we associate
+with Titian’s maturity. There is
+withal a mystical earnestness of
+which Titian himself lacked the
+secret.</p>
+
+<div id='f_241'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_241.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 241.</span> Giovanni Bellini. St. John Crisostom.—<em>S. Giov. Crisostomo.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In his remaining two years
+Bellini designed the lovely and
+modest nude Lady at her Toilet, at Vienna, and the Feast of
+the Gods, Figure <a href='#f_242'>242</a>, now in Mr. Joseph Widener’s collection
+at Philadelphia. His career ends in a rather skeptical acceptance
+of the sensuous graces of the new humanism, for the gods
+are merely Venetian picnickers on an excursion. The penetrating
+poetry of the picture is of a homely sort without pretensions
+to grandeur. The landscape is partly by Titian.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Giovanni died in 1515, being more than eighty-five years
+old. As late as 1506, Albrecht Dürer found him the greatest
+artist at Venice. He had begun with the faint dawn of the
+Renaissance and ended in its midday glow. He had raised
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>Venetian painting to monumental estate, had mastered the
+secrets of landscape and its illumination, had initiated a delightful
+pastoralism, had conveyed religious emotion in forms
+humanly sweet and grave, had made the best of every world.
+Scores of his pupils extended his manner to Brescia, Bergamo,
+Vicenza, and Treviso. His genius knew neither haste nor
+hesitation, he was almost never below his best. The Renaissance
+produced a few painters of greater scope and powers,
+but none more consistently great as an artist or more venerable
+as a personality.</p>
+
+<div id='f_242'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_242.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 242.</span> Giovanni Bellini. Feast of the Gods.—<em>Widener Coll., Elkins Park, Pa.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_243'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>
+<img src='images/f_243.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 243.</span> Bartolommeo Vivarini. Madonna with Saints.—<em>Naples.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>To appreciate his value a glance at less progressive contemporaries
+will suffice. We find Bartolommeo Vivarini normally continuing the routine of the Murano School. In the
+polyptych at Bologna, done with his elder brother Antonio in
+1450, we have with slight Squarcionesque improvements the
+old attenuated Venetian forms. In the highly decorated
+Madonna at Naples, dated 1465, we have an intelligent use
+of both the Squarcionesque realisms, and the refinements of
+Jacopo Bellini. Figure <a href='#f_243'>243</a>. Later pieces such as the triptych
+of 1487 at the Frari reveal a heavy-handed imitation of
+Mantegna, and any little originality of the master soon
+gets lost in the voluminous output of the shop. Bartolommeo
+died in the last year of his century, whose fair average
+he had well represented. His nephew Alvise Vivarini deserves
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>notice as the transmitter of the realism of Antonello da
+Messina to such artists as Montagna, Cima, and Lorenzo Lotto.
+As a portraitist he has real power. His great altar-pieces have
+their bleak and unattractive nobility. Venice greatly honored
+him in confiding several of the new panels for the Ducal Palace
+to his care. But since these works of the eighties were soon
+burned, our view of Alvise remains imperfect. I suspect
+modern criticism has somewhat exaggerated his importance.
+He was active from about 1460 to 1503, and his altar-pieces
+afford the best foils for Giovanni Bellini, as revealing a lesser
+capacity for growth.</p>
+
+<div id='f_244'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>
+<img src='images/f_244.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 244.</span> Carpaccio. Prince Hero Taking Leave of his Father (L) and Greeting Ursula (R).—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>We have now to trace the old narrative style to its climax
+and end in Vittore Carpaccio.<a id='r76'></a><a href='#f76' class='c012'><sup>[76]</sup></a> He inherited all the panoramic
+and luministic accomplishments of Gentile Bellini, but applied
+them with far greater imagination. He deals with legend,
+giving it contemporary color, and in his sensitive hands it becomes
+the most veridical and charming of fairy lands. Carpaccio’s
+training is obscure to us. It may be that the very
+mediocre narrative painter, Lazzaro Bastiani, first taught him.
+In any case he drew more from Gentile Bellini’s resolute handling
+of light, textures and costume. We first meet Carpaccio
+as an artist in the decoration of the Great School of St. Ursula
+from 1492 to 1495. He was probably all of fifty years old.
+The childlike legend, with its numerous embassies, meetings
+and partings, settings out and arrivings, gave him spectacular
+opportunities of which he made the most winning use. In the
+nine canvases now in the Academy we find an epitome of the
+courtesy, circumstance and adventure that accompanied
+travel in those days, and the mere spectacle is underlaid with a
+pensive ideality; for these are no ordinary journeys, but the
+quest of martyrdom by a princely youth and maiden. Nothing
+is insisted on, however, but the gayety of the events, and the
+picturesqueness of their settings. As in all good story-telling,
+the persuasiveness depends on veracious minor episodes.
+There are the most attentive scribes and secretaries, as if to
+carry off the unlikely matter they are inditing. The heavy
+ease of men-at-arms and self-conscious elegance of young
+Venetian fops make them credible witnesses to else incredible
+legend. To adorn his tales Carpaccio borrowed from the woodcut
+illustrations to Breydenbach’s “Itinerary to Jerusalem.”
+It is remarkable how he invests these mere skeletons of cities
+with color, sunlight, the glamour of the orient. About all he
+draws a veil of air saturated with sunlight, concentrated into
+rising clouds whose shadows darken the lustrous blue of the
+tranquil lagoon. There never was a more ravishing raconteur
+in the art of making incidentals count for essentials.
+Such a picture as Prince Hero taking leave of his father and
+greeting St. Ursula, Figure <a href='#f_244'>244</a>, is the fulfilment of all that
+old Jacopo Bellini and his Veronese precursors had dreamed
+of. It is typical of a series which has its more intimate phases
+only by way of exception. The virginal beauty of the legend
+gets a real expression only in the Vision of St. Ursula. Figure
+<a href='#f_245'>245</a>. The character of the earnest, slumbering face and the
+sweet slight body carries through the exquisitely indicated
+space, and we hardly need to be told that the wistful boyish
+angel is offering a martyr’s palm. Possibly it takes a mundane
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>person like Carpaccio to realize the beauty of the more fantastic
+religious ardors. A completely devout person takes
+them as in the day’s work.</p>
+
+<div id='f_245'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_245.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 245.</span> Carpaccio. Dream of St. Ursula.—<em>Venice</em>.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Before the end of the century, Carpaccio painted for the
+School of S. Giovanni Evangelista the Miracle of the healing
+of a Demoniac. The picture is now in the Academy. It
+is a marvellous panorama of contemporary Venice, with the
+bustle of eager crowds, the slipping of gondolas over the canal,
+and light flickering over and caressing the manifold colors
+of the gay scene. It has the fidelity of Gentile Bellini
+without his dryness.</p>
+
+<div id='f_246'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span>
+<img src='images/f_246.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 246.</span> Carpaccio. St. George and the Dragon.—<em>School of St. George of the Slavonians.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The most delightful if not the most important monument of
+Renaissance Venice is unquestionably the School of St. George
+of the Slavonians. It is the only school that retains its primitive
+paintings still set in the original carved and golded wainscoting.
+There one sees in the ground floor the legends of
+St. Jerome, an odd mixture of gravity, richness, and humor.
+Nothing more sumptuous than the Saint in his exquisitely
+appointed study, or more archly comic than the scene of consternation
+when the Saint brings home his lion from the desert.
+The series was painted about 1502. Upstairs we have the
+chivalric legend of St. George of Cappadocia, painted some
+eight years later. Nothing could be more romantically entrancing
+than the boyish champion charging intrepidly over
+the sun-dried shreds and tatters of his predecessors into the
+very jaws of the most confidently virulent of dragons, Figure
+<a href='#f_246'>246</a>, unless it be the scene where he leads his tame dragon into
+the astounded court, or that in which he proudly baptizes his
+future bride and her parents while a Turkish band plays a fanfare.
+About the blowing of these horns of elfland there is no
+faintness whatever. We are in the realm of most palpable
+adventure and romance, and the emphasis depends on splendid
+color and on drawing of a magical alertness.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>Carpaccio’s merit as the liveliest and most persuasive of
+<i><span lang="fr">raconteurs</span></i> seems so definite that it is almost a shock to meet
+him in other capacities. Also a disappointment to find in the
+New Testament subjects from
+the School of the Albanians,
+1504, that in such stereotyped
+subjects he can be almost mediocre.
+Certainly in the great
+altar-piece of the Presentation
+in the Temple, Figure <a href='#f_247'>247</a>, at
+the Academy, he shows that he
+fully understands the new monumentality
+of Giovanni Bellini.
+The date is 1510. The picture
+is of the most reverent composure,
+and as tender as it is
+grand. In the portrait of Two
+Courtesans on a Balcony, in
+the Correr, Carpaccio shows a
+force of character wholly modern. With a kind of irony he
+has taken the moral emptiness of his sitters out of doors,
+flooded it with sunlight and air, given it harshness and ugliness,
+lavishing upon the rich costumes and fair skins the most
+delicate pains. John Ruskin will tell you that these are honest
+women. Such faith is more worthy of reverence than of imitation.
+The greatness of Carpaccio lies in the impartiality
+with which he renders a certain kind of life on its own terms.
+The romancer is capable of appalling truthfulness.</p>
+
+<div id='f_247'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_247.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 247.</span> Carpaccio. The Presentation.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>That he was also a mystic of the most intense sort is hard
+to believe. Yet if the marvellous Meditation on the Passion,
+Figure <a href='#f_248'>248</a>, in the Metropolitan Museum, be really by him,
+such is the case. In a desert the Dead Christ sits in a crumbling
+throne, while two grim sages, St. Job and St. Onophrius,
+sit in rapt contemplation. Their mood has evoked the bodily
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>vision of their Lord. Art has produced few such symbols for
+the hallucinative intensity of the life contemplative. These
+weather-beaten forms seem an emanation from the sands and
+blistering sunlight. They have few relations to our world.
+Their souls move in vast uninhabited spaces. That Carpaccio
+can have produced this masterpiece as late as 1520, and cast
+it deliberately in a style learned forty years earlier seems to
+me a fantastic hypothesis, even if it has enlisted grave authority.
+The abundant similarities of the landscape with
+that of the St. Francis of the Frick Collection make me feel
+that the invention of this picture is Giovanni Bellini’s, at his
+moment of highest emotional power, about 1480. Since the
+actual painting is evidently in large part Carpaccio’s, I am
+driven to the by no means satisfactory hypothesis that Carpaccio may have executed this masterpiece, and the group to
+which it belongs, while serving as studio assistant to Giovanni
+Bellini. Such a view at least expresses my conviction that the
+picture transcends Carpaccio’s powers.</p>
+
+<div id='f_248'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_248.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 248.</span>—Ascribed to Carpaccio, perhaps Giovanni Bellini’s Design. Desert Hermits Meditating the Passion.—<em>New York.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>As for his later years, his work goes off, he loses most of his
+Venetian patronage, and paints for the obscure Istrian and
+Dalmatian seaports, the critics mock him, he dies some time
+after 1523, leaving no deep impression. Vasari dispatches him
+with a few condescending lines, and nobody cares for him till
+young Burne-Jones came to Venice some sixty years ago.
+He plainly stands out of the main line of progress. He was too
+romantically traditional in his themes, and too minutely naturalistic
+in his vision to fit into the monumental development of
+the Renaissance. In a sense he merely brings the old narrative
+tradition to a splendid close. But in so doing he preserves the
+look of an exquisite moment—of Venice still in her mediæval
+gayety and splendor, not yet reduced to her ultimate magnificent
+decorum. In him we glimpse the eager comeliness of
+patrician youth, self-sufficient in love of living. And this we
+see between the glistening waters of the lagoon and the lambent
+blue heavens, with pearly domes and bell towers rising as
+lightly as the drifting summer clouds above. All this may or
+may not be apart from what the wise esteem artistic greatness.
+In any case it is charm of the most persuasive and durable
+kind.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Whether Giorgione of Castelfranco is to be regarded as the
+last of the Venetian primitives or as the first of the men of
+the Renaissance is no simple problem. It is further complicated
+by the fact that we do not surely know what pictures
+he painted. According to the austerity or geniality of the
+critics, the lists vary from eight, Lionello Venturi’s, to over
+seventy, Herbert Cook’s. Naturally I also have my own list,
+which, with old copies, runs to twenty-four, but I am unwilling
+to claim demonstrative weight for what are merely strong
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>subjective convictions. Walter Pater daintily evaded the
+issue by writing the most subtle of essays not on the person,
+but on the School of Giorgione. I shall in part imitate him in
+defining first the Giorgionesque
+mood before considering the
+canon of his works.</p>
+
+<div id='f_249'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_249.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 249.</span> Giorgione.  Portrait of a Youth.—<em>Berlin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>On the side of minor technique
+Giorgione marks a great advance.
+He early abandons the old frank
+coloring of Giovanni Bellini for a
+mysterious method which abolishes
+line, builds in mass, invests
+the picture with deep shadows
+that are marvellously warm and
+colorful. What contemporaries
+loved to call the Venetian fire
+originates with him about 1505.
+Vasari may well be right in saying
+that he learned the method directly from Leonardo da
+Vinci, who was a fugitive in Venice in the year 1500. Only
+Leonardo never taught him that shadow is color. That was
+Giorgione’s own beautiful discovery, one immensely important
+for all decorative painting ever since.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In his early phase, if I am right in thinking that Sir Martin
+Conway’s two stories of Paris, Figure <a href='#f_250'>250</a>, and the Ordeal of
+the Infant Moses and Judgment of Solomon in the Uffizi, are
+his, Giorgione was merely a graceful continuer of the slighter
+narrative mood of Giovanni Bellini and Carpaccio,—that is,
+distinctly a primitive artist. In his fully developed Arcadian
+vein he is neither a primitive nor fully of the Renaissance, but
+midway between, and his work constitutes not so much a
+pioneer effort as a delectable episode quite complete in itself.
+Unhappily we are almost without biographical details. Giorgione
+was born in 1478, in Castelfranco, a long day’s ride
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>towards the Friulian Alps. The country abounds in streams,
+meadows, and immemorial trees—is a subalpine Arcadia.
+He came pretty young to Venice and worked with Giovanni
+Bellini. Legend tells us that he was big and handsome, amorous,
+and a musician. We know that he died of the plague of
+1510, in his thirty-third year. The rest is conjecture from
+pictures some of which are his, and all of which are inspired
+by him.</p>
+
+<div id='f_250'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_250.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 250.</span> Giorgione. The Infant Paris found by Shepherds.—Sir Martin Conway. <em>Maidstone, England.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>These breathe a single mood, that of Arcadian revery. It
+is a world of desire indulged for its own sweetness, of day
+dreaming apart from will, action, and results. More blithely
+it had pre-existed in the Idyls of Theocritus; more pensively,
+in the Eclogues of Virgil. This world revives a far-away pastoral
+golden age, of lovers and their lasses, of nymphs and
+fauns, of vague ardors at once tempered and reinforced by a
+sympathetic nature. We are dealing with one of the oldest
+resources of poetry, and we can only understand this most
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>beautiful visualization of the old theme by associating it with
+the tradition of literary pastoralism.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of course the Eclogues of Virgil were read generation by
+generation, if not very understandingly, through the Middle
+Ages. Still the more sensitive felt the appeal of mountain
+shadows lengthening over the evening meadows and the pathos
+of love-lorn shepherds sighing musically for hard-hearted shepherdesses.
+By the middle of the fourteenth century, the pastoral
+mode becomes once more contemporary, incidentally in the
+interludes of Bocaccio’s <cite>Decameron</cite>, explicitly in his idyl of
+alternate prose and verse, the <cite>Ameto</cite>. These are pale lights
+before the dawn. Pastoralism becomes widely current in the
+<cite>Arcadia</cite> of Jacopo Sannazaro, the bulk of which was ready by
+1489. It is the parent of those slow-moving, sentimental, and
+ever lengthy romances in verse and prose of which Sir Philip
+Sidney’s <cite>Arcadia</cite> is the most familiar to the modern reader.
+Dante had once longed for a magic boat in which congenial
+souls should drift forever and do nothing but discourse of love.
+Transfer these discourses to a leafy nook beside a running
+stream, with the herds in view below the branches, and nymphs
+and satyrs overhearing the debate—and you have Sannazaro’s
+<cite>Arcadia</cite>. We have the eternal poetry and perhaps eternal
+fallacy of a bygone golden age where duty and effort are absent,
+where love and poesy reign.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In his most famous song, <cite><span lang="la">Alma beata</span></cite>, Sannazaro, celebrating
+a dead beauty, makes heaven itself merely an Arcadia—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Other mountains, other plains,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Other groves and streamlets</div>
+      <div class='line'>In heaven I see, and withal new blossoms.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Other fauns and sylvans, through sweet summer places,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Pursue their nymphs in happier loves than ours.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>You find the mood clear cut in the Venetian nobleman and prelate,
+Pietro Bembo, both in his <cite>Asolani</cite> and in the separate
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>poems. These were being handed about in Giorgione’s time,
+from 1500 on. Thus Bembo sings of the shepherd’s life:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Tryphon, who in place of ministrants and lackeys,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Loggias and marbles, woven gold and purple,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Lovest about thee willows leafy, cloister</div>
+      <div class='line'>Of joyous hillocks, plants and rivulets—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Well may the world admire thee.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>Naturally the denizens of such paradises live and dress in a
+state of nature. The nymphs are lightly clothed and readily
+discard their slight draperies for the joys of the bath, which
+they considerately take within the range of their shepherd
+swains. Bembo warmly praises those “courteous garments”
+which do not too much hide the fair throat and bosom, and
+roundly curses more churlish concealing fashions.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sannazaro describes with a confusing mixture of metaphors
+what may be called a fortunate bath fall.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Leading one day my herds beside a stream,</div>
+      <div class='line'>I saw a light amid those waters fair,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Which bound me fast straightway with two blond tresses,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And stamped a face all milk and roses</div>
+      <div class='line'>Forever on my heart.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Earlier painters than Giorgione<a id='r77'></a><a href='#f77' class='c012'><sup>[77]</sup></a> had essayed these pastoral
+themes. Botticelli, Signorelli; in a sardonic way, Piero di
+Cosimo; Giovanni Bellini and even Andrea Mantegna had
+variously attempted this sort of painted poesy. But the
+flavor of the Giorgionesque poesy is fuller and richer. His
+beauty is that of languor, revery, dream. Whatever the ostensible
+theme may be, his painting is Arcadian. His people
+have not merely no relation to our world, but slight and ambiguous
+relations to each other within the picture. They are
+isolated in their own musings, rarely look at each other, never
+suggest an action, but only a mood. Even the portraits suggest
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>rather temperament than character or will. The proud
+youth, at Berlin, Figure <a href='#f_249'>249</a>, withdraws himself from purpose
+and deed. It is an early Giorgione. The Shepherd with a
+Flute, at Hampton Court, is bemused with his own fancy.
+It is of the later years. The fastidious patrician, at New York,
+reveals an almost worried and sickly detachment. If indeed
+a Giorgione, which I cannot doubt, it is of his latest manner.</p>
+
+<div id='f_251'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_251.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 251.</span> Giorgione. Fire Ordeal of Infant Moses.—<em>Uffizi.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_252'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_252.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 252.</span> Giorgione. “Soldier and Gipsy.”—<em>Giovanelli Palace.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Take the little Carpaccian idyls at Florence which cannot
+be much later than 1500. How far we are from real narrative!
+In the Ordeal of Moses, Figure <a href='#f_251'>251</a>, a child is thrusting his
+tender fingers among live coals. Ladies and gentlemen stand
+languidly about and bask in the pleasantness of their own
+thoughts. There is a similar nonchalance in the Judgment
+of Solomon where a newborn babe is threatened with the
+sword. The horror is treated as a negligible incident of an
+<i><span lang="it">al fresco</span></i> party.</p>
+
+<div id='f_253'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span>
+<img src='images/f_253.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 253.</span> Giorgione. The Three Philosophers.—<em>Vienna.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Again what is the meaning of the mysterious idyl in Prince
+Giovanelli’s gallery? Figure <a href='#f_252'>252</a>. In view of the picturesque
+walls and moat of Castelfranco, a half nude mother, oblivious
+of a coming thunder shower, nurses her child. Equally oblivious
+of her and the weather, a fashionably dressed youth
+turns away. Ruins reflect the ominous lightning flashes.
+Old records call this (one of the few certain Giorgiones) The
+Soldier and the Gipsy—evidently a bad guess. A learned
+Viennese professor chooses to think that this is Prince Adrastus
+finding the forsaken Princess Hypsiphile. Nobody can prevent
+such conjectures or disprove them. It is safer to imagine
+that coming rain and thunder at Venice recalls some old memory
+of similar weather and state of mind at Castelfranco,
+evokes some old desire of which this richly fanciful masterpiece
+is the enigmatic symbol. Some story of loving and parting
+surely underlies the poesy, it would be foolish to be more
+specific than Giorgione himself has chosen to be. The Three
+Philosophers, at Vienna, Figure <a href='#f_253'>253</a>, again has been explained
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>as Aeneas surveying the future site of Rome. What we actually
+have is a glowing nook at eventide in which three grave
+men of different ages go separately about some task requiring
+thought and mathematical calculation. And even this duty
+is yielding to the spell and mystery of the evening hour. These
+pictures are probably a little earlier than the altar-piece of
+1504 at Castelfranco.</p>
+
+<div id='f_254'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_254.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 254.</span> Giorgione. Madonna with St. George and St. Francis.—<em>Castelfranco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_255'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span>
+<img src='images/f_255.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 255.</span> Giorgione. Landscape by Titian. Sleeping Venus.—<em>Dresden.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>That lovely work, Figure <a href='#f_254'>254</a>, has much of the intimacy of
+Bellini’s altar-piece at S. Zaccaria, in formal arrangement it
+is rather monumental. The mood, however, is one of revery.
+St. Francis of Assisi makes his gesture only for himself,
+and St. George, exponent of the active life, broods moodily
+beneath his slackly held pennon. The Arcadian landscape
+quietly reinforces the idyllic feeling. Externally the thing
+is splendid in color, and as saturated with atmosphere as it
+is with mood.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>From now on the question of chronology becomes at once
+difficult, and, since we are dealing only with five years or so,
+relatively unimportant. The sleeping Venus at Dresden,
+Figure <a href='#f_255'>255</a>, may have been designed about 1505. A Cupid
+slumbering at the Goddess’s feet has been painted out, and
+the landscape was finished by Titian. The noble sleeping
+body, to use a word of Lucretius which Montaigne commends,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>seems “poured out” on the receptive earth—so grandly and
+easily it lies. The gestures are unconscious caresses. The
+Goddess dreams of old joys. What faun or sylvan even would
+not respect that dream? Not
+with passion, then, though himself
+knowing all its sting, does
+Giorgione deal, but with ardors
+sublimated in memory. The
+marvellous lines of this Venus,
+as sweeping as the curves of
+hills or river currents, were imitated
+again and again, but
+neither Titian, Palma Vecchio,
+nor the rest ever recaptured the
+evasive poetry of their model.</p>
+
+<div id='f_256'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_256.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 256.</span> Giorgione. Judith.—<em>Petrograd.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1508, working with Titian,
+Giorgione finished certain frescoes
+for the outside of the German
+Warehouse. The remaining
+red blurs, and Zanetti’s
+fragmentary copies, tell us that
+the postures begin to have the
+breadth and conscious counterpoise
+of the advancing Renaissance,
+but that the mood is still that of languor. Very like
+one of these figures is the fascinating Judith, at Petrograd,
+Figure <a href='#f_256'>256</a>. After the horrors of the night, she stands
+dreamily. Her lovely left leg escapes from the courteous
+draperies, and the foot touches lightly the brow of the peaceful,
+severed head of Holophernes. The touch of the foot is
+almost careless, as if merely to assure herself that the portent
+is really true. Her head bends gently, her nerveless beautiful
+fingers barely feel her girdle or support her great sword.
+Behind her, morning forests and fields stretch towards a tranquil
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>sea and sky. The gestures are those of one between
+sleeping and waking, irresolutely feeling for some basis in
+reality. We are in a realm where the most awful deeds and
+experiences count only as raw material for delicate imaginings.</p>
+
+<div id='f_257'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_257.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 257.</span> Giorgione. Pastoral Symphony.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the later works problems multiply, and a critic is pretty
+well reduced to personal intuitions. No doubt, however,
+should attach to the pathetic and nearly effaced Christ of St.
+Roch. The Christ is nobler than the earlier example at
+Fenway Court, the feeling more expansive. Still nobody, not
+even the executioner, seems to will the atrocity of the deed.
+The thing is not an act but a vision, pervaded by a dreamy
+tenderness.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The completely repainted Pastoral Concert, Figure <a href='#f_257'>257</a>, at
+the Louvre is never the less fraught with Giorgione’s peculiar
+poetry. A courtly lover has struck a chord on the lute, and
+gazes intently, perhaps sadly, at a shepherd sitting close to
+him. A rustic, nude nymph whose back only is seen takes the
+pipe from her lips to listen. A proud beauty turns toward a
+fountain, light draperies slip away from her superb form,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>and with a graceful gesture of idleness she pours back into
+the fountain a tinkling jet from a crystal pitcher, while she
+bends to note the ripple and catch the pleasant, idle sound.
+This strange scene takes place on the edge of a vale that winds
+down to a glittering sea, affording a path to a shepherd and his
+flocks. The meaning? Modern criticism is loath to look beyond
+contrasts of nude and clothed forms, swing of tree-tops
+and of sky, subtle interplay of light and shade. My own
+reading is merely based on the contrast between the rustic
+and urban lovers, and an intuition that the courtier in peering
+so wistfully at the shepherd is merely seeing himself in a
+former guise. In lassitude, perhaps in satiety, beside a courtly
+mistress who is absent from him in spirit, there rises the vision
+of earlier simpler love and of a devoted shepherdess who once
+piped for him in the shade. The vision rises as his listless
+hand sweeps the lute strings in a chord unmarked by the far
+lovelier mistress at the fountain. The golden age of love, like
+Arcady itself, is ever in the past. Such may be the reading of
+this poesy. Indeed all Giorgione’s pictures are less facts than
+apparitions born of roving thought in idleness,—such stuff
+as dreams are made of.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The famous Concert, Figure <a href='#f_258'>258</a>, of the Pitti since Morelli’s
+time has been generally classed as an early Titian, I think
+erroneously. The precise and powerful execution of the Monk’s
+head is certainly his, but I question if the motive itself lay
+within the scope of his lucid and uncomplicated imagination.
+An Augustinian monk holds the initial harmony on the clavichord
+and turns towards the ’cellist while the singer waits impassively.
+And this simple theme becomes a universal symbol
+for thwarted desire. The player asks a kind of sympathy
+which this world rarely affords, which certainly these companions
+cannot give. As in the Pastoral Symphony, the
+music awakens impossible longings, is the accompaniment of
+inadequacy. Titian was too robust ever to have imagined
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>such a thing, and I feel we need only modify the old tradition
+to the extent of giving Titian a hand in an unfinished Giorgione
+to account for this poignant and most characteristic masterpiece.</p>
+
+<div id='f_258'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_258.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 258.</span> Giorgione <i><span lang="la">cum</span></i> Titian. The Concert.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>There remains old and good tradition for crediting Giorgione
+with the design of the altar-piece in San Giovanni Crisostomo.
+The execution is unquestionably by Sebastiano del
+Piombo. If this view be correct, Giorgione attained the external
+features of the coming Renaissance style, missing its
+athleticism. Certainly the abstraction of the saint and the
+unmotivated appearance of the three virtues, and their unrelated
+gracefulness, is entirely in Giorgione’s manner, while the
+whole invention is alien to Sebastiano’s heavy and forthright
+talent.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>For the view I have tried to give of this poet picture-maker
+I may claim at least the merit of consistency. There is only
+one theme—languor of love and of remembered happiness;
+and there is only one setting—the
+Arcadia of the pastoral
+poets. Giorgione is the first
+painter who realized Leonardo’s
+definition of painting as “mute
+poetry,” yet not quite mute for
+there is generally a suggestion
+of music. And the music is less
+heard than contemplated, as is
+the case in one of his latest
+pictures, the Shepherd Boy, Figure
+<a href='#f_259'>259</a>, who hesitates to set the
+flute to his lips lest the melody
+fall short of that which the imagination
+has already heard.</p>
+
+<div id='f_259'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_259.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 259.</span> Giorgione. Shepherd with a Flute.—<em>Hampton Court.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For ten years after Giorgione’s death his mood dominated
+Titian with most of the rising artists. It seemed likely to
+replace the sturdy and objective art of Venice with a quite
+alien subjectivism. Meanwhile the normal effort of old
+Giovanni, Bellini and of young Titian continued. The Renaissance
+offered to the outer eye new dignities and splendors.
+The inner eye went bankrupt in the numerous imitators of
+Giorgione, in trivial symbolism and merely playful mythology.
+After her brief pause in Arcadia, Venice once more took account
+of her own proud charms. The nymphs paled before the
+comparison, Arcadia vanished. But it never was wholly forgotten,
+and, ever since, those who have craved actually to see
+the golden age of poesy have had to consult Giorgione of
+Castelfranco.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER VII</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Praise of Mantegna in the Renaissance</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>The immense authority of Mantegna kept his name on all honor lists
+of painters long after his death.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Lorenzo of Pavia, writing in 1504 to Isabella d’Este, says of a
+Madonna by Giovanni Bellini:</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“The Painter has made a great effort to do himself honour, chiefly
+out of respect to M. Andrea Mantegna, and although it is true that in
+point of invention it cannot compare with the work of Messer Andrea,
+that most excellent master, I pray Your Excellency to take the picture,
+both for your own honour and also because of the merit of the work.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Julia Cartwright, <em>Isabella d’Este</em>, New York, 1903, Vol. I, p. 351.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A little later Lorenzo writes:</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“And, as I have said before, in point of invention no one can rival
+Andrea Mantegna, who is indeed a most excellent painter, the foremost
+of our age. But Zuan Bellini excels in colouring.”       l. c. 352.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>On Oct. 16, 1506, Lorenzo writes, on learning of Mantegna’s death:</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“I am much grieved to hear of the death of our Messer Andrea Mantegna.
+For indeed we have lost a most excellent man and a second
+Apelles, but I believe that the Lord God will employ him to make some
+beautiful work. As for me, I can never hope to see again a finer draughtsman
+and more original artist.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Isabella replied:</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“Lorenzo,—We were sure that you would grieve over the death of
+M. Andrea Mantegna, for, as you say, a great light has gone out.”</p>
+
+<div class='c023'>l. c. I. 369.</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Titian’s View of Mantegna</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>As late as 1519, Titian admired the Mantegnas at Mantua. Girolamo
+da Sestola, Isabella’s music master, writes to her:</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“M. Dosso and M. Tiziano, another good master who is making a
+fine picture here [The Bacchanal, at Madrid] for the Lord Duke, went
+to Mantua. He saw all Mantegna’s works, and praised them greatly
+to our signor, and he also praised your studies. But above all, he admired
+your <i><span lang="it">Tondo</span></i> [the frescoed ceiling of the Camera degli Sposi, Fig.
+<a href='#f_219'>219</a>] exceedingly, and calls it the finest thing he has ever seen. Our
+Signor has one here, but Titian says yours is incomparably the finest.”</p>
+
+<div class='c023'>l. c. II. 171, 2.</div>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Ariosto’s Honor List of Painters</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c015'>Ariosto as late as 1515 still includes Mantegna and Giovanni Bellini
+among the best artists. The list is instructive as to the fallibility of
+contemporary judgments. The two Dossi and Sebastiano del Piombo
+today have lost their place in the roll.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“And those who were and still are in our days—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Leonardo, Andrea Mantegna, Giambellino,</div>
+      <div class='line'>The Dossis, he who chiselled and colored equally</div>
+      <div class='line'>Michel, more than mortal, Angel divine,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Sebastian, Raphael, Titian who honors</div>
+      <div class='line'>No more Cadore, than they Venice and Urbino.”</div>
+      <div class='line in20'><cite>Orlando Furioso</cite>, Canto XXXIII, 2.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Lomazzo’s List of Great Painters and Their Kindred Poets</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>“Each painter has naturally had a genus more conformable to one
+poet rather than another, and has followed that poet in his work, as it
+is easy to see in the modern painters. For one sees that Leonardo has
+expressed the movement and decorum of Homer, Polidoro the grandeur
+and sweep of Virgil, Michelangelo the profound obscurity of Dante,
+Raphael the pure majesty of Petrarch, Andrea Mantegna the keen
+judgment of Sannazaro, Titian the variety of Ariosto, and Gaudenzio
+Ferrari the devotion which one finds expressed in the books of the
+saints.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>Paolo Lomazzo, <cite>Trattato dell’ Arte delle Pittura</cite>, Milan, 1584, p. 283.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>See also Castiglione’s list in Illustrations to Chapter VI, p. 313.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Giorgione—Leonardo on Rural and Pastoral Delights</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c018'>“What moves thee, O man, to quit thy city habitations and leave
+thy friends and kin, and go in places wild by reason of mountains and
+valleys, if not the natural beauty of the world, the which, if thou well
+considerest, thou enjoyest only through the sense of sight? And if the
+poet wishes to call himself also a painter in such matters, why do you
+not take such sites as described by the poet and stay at home without
+feeling the excessive heat of the sun? And would not this be more useful
+and less wearisome since it is done in coolness and without moving about
+and risk of illness?</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“But the mind cannot enjoy the benefit of the eyes, windows of its
+habitation, and cannot receive the varieties of delightful spots, cannot
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_386'>386</span>see the shady valleys furrowed by the play of winding streams, cannot
+see the various flowers which with their colors make a harmony for the
+eye—and so with all the things which can be represented to that eye.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“But if the painter in the cold and harsh winter time sets before thee
+those same places painted, and others, in which thou mayest have experienced
+thy pleasures beside some fountain, thou canst see again
+thyself as a lover, with thy loved one in blossoming meadows, under the
+sweet shadow of verdurous trees—wilt thou not receive quite an other
+pleasure than from hearing such an effect described by the poet?”</p>
+
+<div class='c024'>Leonardo, <cite>Trattato</cite>, Wien, 1882, p. 44.</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>This is so fully in the mood of Giorgione’s idyllism that one likes to
+think that he may have talked over such themes with Leonardo when
+they met in Venice in 1500.</p>
+
+<div id='f_260'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span>
+<img src='images/f_260.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 260.</span> Titian. Bacchus and Ariadne.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter VIII</span></span><br> VENETIAN PAINTING OF THE RENAISSANCE</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='c011'>Titian before 1545—Some contemporaries, Sebastiano del Piombo, Palma
+Vecchio—The advent of Modern Sensitiveness in Lorenzo Lotto—Moretto
+of Brescia—Correggio—Titian’s last Manner, its subjectivism
+and impressionism—The Portraitist Moroni—Tintoretto and the new
+dramatic emotionalism—Paolo Veronese, his spectacular mastery and
+impressionism, his characteristic works—Eighteenth Century Venetians:
+Tiepolo, Canaletto and Guardi—Longhi.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The glory of Venetian painting is to an unusual degree that
+of a single individual, Titian<a id='r78'></a><a href='#f78' class='c012'><sup>[78]</sup></a> of Cadore. He lived nearly
+a hundred years, from 1477 to 1576, and we can trace his painting
+for more than seventy years of serene and unbroken progress.
+He had great contemporaries—Sebastiano del Piombo,
+Palma Vecchio, Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese, Lorenzo Lotto,
+Moroni, Moretto of Brescia—but so various and comprehensive
+is his achievement that their work seems merely so many
+extensions of the paths first explored by him. In his noble
+and measured sensuousness, he seems nearer the Greeks than
+any other Italian painter.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>If he is something less than admirable as a character, it is
+because of an unpleasantly calculating side. He schemed
+ruthlessly for preferment and lucrative sinecures, had the
+repute of envying young artists of talent, flattered to the limit
+his Hapsburg patrons, bargained and begged concerning prices,
+let himself be puffed egregiously by his blackguard friend,
+Pietro Aretino, first and most formidable of yellow journalists.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>Yet this element of craft in the man was eminently Venetian.
+They schemed for splendor and pleasure, and measured even
+their indulgences. Thus we should not expect lyrical raptures
+or extremes of any sort in Titian. His art is one of judgment
+and moderation. Indeed that calculating spirit which makes
+him unamiable as a man was a source of strength to
+him as an artist. One of his pupils, Palma Giovine, has described
+his manner of working. First he laid in his pictures
+heavily in neutral tones. Then he turned them to the wall for
+months to dry. Then he would pass from one to the other,
+scrutinizing each “as if it were his worst enemy.” He would
+add color, amend drawing and composition, thus systematically
+carrying many pictures forward at a time, and subjecting each
+to repeated criticism and correction. He never painted a figure
+at one go, saying that “he who improvises his song never
+achieves learned verses or well turned.” Precisely the greatness
+of Titian lay in his capacity to put ardor into these prolonged
+critical processes. Thus if certain raptures are denied
+him, he is never below himself, but always as noble in sentiment
+as he is resplendent in color.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Tiziano Vecellio was born at Cadore, in the Dolomites, in
+1477.<a id='r79'></a><a href='#f79' class='c012'><sup>[79]</sup></a> Its shadowy oaks and blue alps live in his backgrounds.
+At eleven he was put with a mosaic worker, Zuccati, at Venice.
+He may have worked for a time with Gentile Bellini, but attained
+his real development in the studio of Giovanni Bellini,
+under the stimulus of his fellow pupil, Giorgione. This intimate
+and poetical phase of Titian’s genius lasts from before
+1505 to 1516 and the Assumption.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His second period is that of fullest color and vitality. It
+runs from 1517 to say 1536, Titian’s fortieth to fifty-ninth
+year, and the characteristic works are the monumental altar-pieces
+at Venice and the Mythologies painted for the Este
+family at Ferrara.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The third period extends from about 1537 to 1548. It is
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>marked by deeper resonances of color that is tending towards
+tone, and by a more objective and static ideal. Energy is no
+longer squandered, and intimate poetry is not sought. Typical
+works are those mythologies and portraits done for the Duke
+of Urbino, and the early Hapsburg portraits.</p>
+
+<div id='f_261'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_261.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 261.</span> Titian. Portrait so-called “Ariosto.”—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_262'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_262.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 262.</span> Titian. Portrait of a Youth.—<em>Temple Newsham, England.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The fourth period begins with 1548 or a little earlier, Titian’s
+seventieth year, and lasts nearly thirty years till his death.
+A looser and more synthetic construction, the substitution of
+broken shades and tone for frank color, a more tragic and ardent
+mood, a more energetic grandeur of composition, with lesser
+formality, are the marks of this amazing last phase, in which
+Titian becomes a precursor of Rembrandt and Velasquez.
+Since he now works chiefly for the Hapsburgs, the great examples
+are at Madrid and Vienna.</p>
+
+<div id='f_263'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_392'>392</span>
+<img src='images/f_263.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 263.</span> Titian. The Tribute Money.—<em>Dresden.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The earliest Titians show the sultry shadows of Giorgione,
+and are distinguishable from his work only by a more linear
+quality, and by a greater explicitness of mood. Titian’s poetry
+is direct and rarely ambiguous. What ardors of flesh and spirit
+are suggested in his early portraits of men! The portrait of
+a bearded man in London, Figure <a href='#f_261'>261</a>, is conceived entirely
+in Giorgione’s fashion, as a short bust showing the hands, and
+the mysterious envelopment in warm shadow is Giorgione’s
+as is the sensitiveness of touch
+and characterization. But with
+all his gentle beauty, the man is
+formidable. His aloofness is no
+revery, but some preparation of
+will for action. Again Giorgione
+would hardly have labored to
+suggest the material splendor of
+the silvery satin sleeve. Even
+more perfect is the half-length
+of a young patrician at Temple
+Newsham, Figure <a href='#f_262'>262</a>, England.
+It is full of a reserved poetry,
+yet the effect is as well almost
+shrewd and diplomatic. This
+youth has the Venetian capacity
+for both passion and affairs. Both these portraits should be
+a little earlier than 1510. Such masterpieces of smouldering
+ardor as the Knight of Malta, erroneously ascribed to
+Giorgione and the Man with a Glove, at Paris, must be a
+little later. In concentration these are as fine as Giorgione’s
+portraits, but quite a different spirit transpires from the
+investing shadows. These men of Titian are no day-dreamers,
+but resolute and purposeful. They live little in memory and
+much in prospect. Their imagination implies action and
+possession. Even the drawing is more resolute. Study the eye
+sockets, temples, and cheek bones of these early Titians.
+Nowhere in Giorgione do you get such a sense of inner bony
+structure, of thicker and thinner cushions of flesh, of tenser or
+slacker skin. The method finds its most admirable expression
+in the two marvellous heads of the Tribute Money (1514–5),
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span>at Dresden, Figure <a href='#f_263'>263</a>. Yet how little mystery or pathos is
+invoked. With a gesture and an expression of exquisite
+consideration and breeding, the Saviour baffles the most eager
+and fanatical of inquisitors. Nothing could be more unlike
+the abstracted and almost morose Christs of Giorgione.
+As usual, Titian stands on the ground of the finest worldliness,
+as the Greeks had done. With the supernal, whether in heaven
+or Arcadia, he has little concern.</p>
+
+<div id='f_264'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_264.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 264.</span> Titian. The Three Ages.—<em>Bridgewater House, London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the early poesies Titian at once manifests his adoration of
+Giorgione and his own independence. In the Three Ages,
+Figure <a href='#f_264'>264</a>, at Bridgewater House we may grasp at its highest
+beauty his robust Arcadianism. In a meadow landscape an
+ardent nymph woos her bronzed swain. Complacently he
+accepts her unreserved advances. Nothing could be more
+explicit than the relation between the lovers, and with
+equal plainness an old man and sleeping child serve to
+teach us that youth and its sweetest ardors are but a brief
+pause between childhood and old age. Let us then seize
+the moments when nature and love are kind to us. Such
+is the forthright poetry of Titian. It is the poetry of every
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span>boy and every girl—simple, classic, unchangeable. Think
+of the overtones and personal interpretations with which
+Giorgione would have overlaid such a theme. Such twilight
+mysteries are alien to Titian’s fervent and lucid spirit. He
+loves the morning hour with work and love ahead, as
+Giorgione loves the veiling glamour and brooding memories
+of eventide.</p>
+
+<div id='f_265'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_265.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 265.</span> Titian. “Sacred and Profane Love.”—<em>Borghese, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Three Ages was probably painted about 1512, the far
+more famous poesy, misnamed Sacred and Profane Love, Figure
+<a href='#f_265'>265</a>, is two or three years later. The sumptuous variety
+and richness of Titian are here at their height. Luminous
+marbles, pearly nude forms, lustrous stuffs, dark shimmer of
+foliage and sun-swept slopes of grass seem created merely to
+set off their respective beauties of hue and texture. Purples,
+azure, rose, saturated greens form a sonorous chord of colors
+which is so satisfying that one scarcely asks why a Cupid stirs
+the waters of a magic fountain, and why a splendidly clothed
+figure sits tranquilly at the side while a superb nude figure
+turns impulsively and holds aloft a burning lamp.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Explanations of the fable abound. It is Venus persuading
+Helen to harken to Paris, or Medea to aid Jason. So the
+Germans. I am sure only that if we knew the meaning it
+would be quite as simple as these explanations. My friend,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span>the late William P. Andrews, suggested that we have a lovely
+symbolism for the inquietude of maidenhood and the composure
+of matronhood—love in prospect and retrospect.
+The universality of the interpretation is in its favor. Titian’s
+mind worked socially and concretely.
+Plainly the nude figure
+is reminiscent of Giorgione’s listless
+beauty by the fountain in
+the Pastoral Concert, Figure <a href='#f_257'>257</a>.
+Titian’s maiden lacks something
+of the momentary grace and
+spontaneity of her model, but
+has in compensation a fuller
+grandeur.</p>
+
+<div id='f_266'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_266.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 266.</span> Titian. Flora.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Perhaps the ideal portrait of
+Flora (1515–16), in the Pitti,
+Figure <a href='#f_266'>266</a>, should be reckoned
+with the poesies rather than
+with portraits. In material beauty few Titians excel it. The
+curded whites of the drapery vie with the flushed ivory of face
+and bosom. The sweetness of the impression is almost awe-inspiring.
+What a world it is that thrusts forth carelessly such
+beauty as this! Think of Giorgione’s quite similar Shepherd
+with the Pipe, Figure <a href='#f_259'>259</a>, and imagine again the twilight
+mystery with which he would have invested this apparition.
+Titian on the contrary thinks and feels like every man, but
+with an intensity and clearness quite his own. The lyrical
+and subjective note is incidental and superficial in him even
+when he most seems to resemble his lost comrade.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Titian’s progress in composition is best noted in the religious
+pieces. From the first he seeks to break up the old inert
+symmetries. He invents active balances, brings the main
+thrusts to the sides of the pictures rather than to the centre.
+Thus even his Conversation Pieces gain implications of action
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span>and energy. In the altar-piece of St. Peter with Donors, at
+Antwerp, perhaps as early as 1502, and still somewhat in
+Bellini’s style, we find the enthroned figure moved to the side
+and the accessory figures arranged in a processional approach.
+The somewhat later altar-piece
+of St. Mark at the Salute,
+painted probably in 1504, Figure
+<a href='#f_267'>267</a>, again evades the old central
+symmetries. The Saint is enthroned
+off centre and his position
+gains great energy and
+novelty from its elevation and
+consequent foreshortening. The
+four plague saints keep the old
+symmetry, their types are partly
+from Bellini (the St. Sebastian),
+partly from nature. The structure
+in glowing shadow is that of
+Giorgione. We trace the same
+evasion of old symmetries and
+the same Giorgionesque fire in
+the Baptism of Christ, in the Capitoline at Rome, and Christ
+and Mary Magdalen, at London. Such pictures with their
+slightly conscious emphasis prepare the way for the more
+assured and sonorous harmonies of the great altar-backs of
+the ’20s.</p>
+
+<div id='f_267'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_267.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 267.</span> Titian. St. Mark with Plague Saints.—<em>Salute.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Madonnas and Conversation pieces again show us most
+vividly how his taste is working. The Gipsy Madonna, Figure
+<a href='#f_268'>268</a>, at Vienna, painted about 1505, is highly Giorgionesque,
+but Giorgione never painted such sculptural forms, nor ever
+conceived so resolute a Christchild. Even the throwing of the
+outlet to one side reveals Titian. At Madrid and Vienna are
+superb half-length Madonnas arranged symmetrically after
+Bellini’s fashion, but with greater freedom of pose. Titian
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>soon saw that the old compositional forms could not express
+the new energy. He makes repeated experiments, shifts the
+Madonna to one side, as in the unfinished Madonna with St.
+Anthony at Florence. He adds figures and rearranges them
+until the Conversation piece becomes an audience, with the
+saints and donors approaching the Madonna, as in an Adoration
+of the Magi. We find the completed form in the
+admirable Conversation piece, of about 1510 with its two versions
+in the Louvre and at Vienna, Figure <a href='#f_269'>269</a>; and considerably
+later, a further development in those numerous full-length
+Holy Families in landscapes of which the Madonna of
+the Hare (1530), Figure <a href='#f_270'>270</a>, and The Marriage of St. Catherine,
+at London, are consummate types. And with all the
+conscious experimentalism of this work, the sense of character
+and of beauty is unperturbed. As compared with the contemporary Holy Families of Raphael, the accent is more individual
+and local. These superb Madonnas and gracious
+female saints with attendant martyrs and church doctors,
+are merely the lads and lasses of Carpaccio’s legends, grown
+up to manhood and womanhood, increased in dignity and
+sweetness.</p>
+
+<div id='f_268'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_268.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 268.</span> Titian. Gipsy Madonna.—<em>Vienna.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_269'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>
+<img src='images/f_269.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 269.</span> Titian. Madonna with Saints.—<em>Vienna.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Until the death of Giovanni Bellini, in 1515, Titian seems a
+little hampered by his example as by that of Giorgione. Then,
+as if relieved of a restraint, Titian pursues his own aims. His
+design, in such great altar-backs as the Assumption and the
+Madonna of the Pesaro family, doubles its breadth and energy.
+His mythologies, in the bacchanals for the Alabaster Chamber
+of Alphonso d’Este, at Ferrara, are no longer pensive lyrics,
+but dithyrambs; primordial lyrics, for animation and power.
+The religious pictures, such as the noble Entombment in the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span>Louvre, are no longer insistently pathetic. Subjective poetry
+is everywhere giving way to masculine assertion of the splendor
+of love, motherhood, comradeship. And these great objective
+commonplaces, which were the very staple in their
+day of Greek Epic and Sculpture, receive in Titian their finest
+modern embodiment. His new energy requires a changed
+color. All the hues are brighter and more resonant. Their
+harmonies no longer require the bond of deep shadow, but are
+positive and established at the middle of the color scale, where
+color is most itself. If the music of Giorgione was that of
+vibrating lute strings, that of Titian has the clarity and clangor
+of exquisitely harmonized woodwind and brass.</p>
+
+<div id='f_270'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_270.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 270.</span> Titian. Holy Family with Rabbit.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Before sounding this new music, Titian prudently secured
+the sinecure, a Commissionership of the Salt Taxes, which old
+Giovanni Bellini had enjoyed. While scheming for it, he was
+designing also the most famous of his great altar-pieces, the
+Assumption, Figure <a href='#f_271'>271</a>. It was finished in 1518, set on the
+high altar of the Friar’s Church, whither it has lately returned.
+Titian adopts a form of composition which Fra Bartolommeo
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span>and Raphael had employed. The upper celestial tier is symmetrically
+arranged, almost in a domical way, the lower tier
+abounds in swinging turns and gestures, one carefully balancing
+the others. The forms are large and athletic, such as the Renaissance
+preferred, for greater gravity. Their weight is compensated
+by the ease with which they hold themselves and by
+the numerous floating and falling cherubs, playfully at home in
+their clouds, like so many celestial rose leaves for the crispness
+and lightness with which Titian’s brush has touched them in.</p>
+
+<div id='f_271'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_271.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 271.</span> Titian. The Assumption.—<em>S. M. dei Frari.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_272'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_272.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 272.</span> Titian. Pesaro Madonna.—<em>Frari.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>An over-spiritual observer might ask, Why are the Apostles
+so jubilant at losing their beloved Mistress? Only a little
+earlier, Giovanni Bellini, who painted the theme for San Pietro
+Martire at Murano, invested his witnesses with pathos, silence,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span>wonder and awe. In comparison Titian is obvious, and barely
+reverent. He thinks of nothing but that this is Mary’s moment
+of highest glory, so of course her friends cheer boisterously as
+they wave her off heavenwards. Titian’s mind does not work
+in half tones of sensibility, yet he is honestly religious in his
+own way. The Lord’s people are good enough for him, and he
+likes them not in the hush of devotion but in the expansive
+moments of action. The attitude is operatic. Choruses have
+no business with overtones, all voices shall be <i><span lang="it">robusto</span></i>. What
+infallible taste he shows along these simple lines! There is no
+smallness, no mere floridness of utterance, no hint of over-emphasis.
+Such art is the despair of the modern artist. He
+cannot feel so simply. The great enduring commonplaces
+are denied to his more complicated genius.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Perhaps Titian is even more himself in the Madonna of the
+Pesaro Family, Figure <a href='#f_272'>272</a>, which was in hand from 1519 to
+1526. For animation he sets the throne of Mary to the right,
+and carries splendid columns back in depth. He gives to every
+gesture of saint or donor a balancing relation to the gracious
+curve of the body of the Queen of Heaven. He renews the
+Giorgionesque mystery in the portraits of children, adds
+picturesque accessories of armor, velvet, and silken banner.
+The picture is as rich as it is logical and monumental, as varied
+in character as it is unified in mood. It is only by chance that
+it stands almost over Titian’s tomb, and yet it would have been
+hard to find a picture that better represents both his more
+intimate and his more objective perfections. Even such
+masterpieces as the Madonna with six Saints in the Vatican
+(1523), and the lost Slaying of Saint Peter Martyr (before 1530),
+which enjoyed three centuries of praise, seem a little set and
+over-reasonable in comparison.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Alphonso d’Este’s Alabaster Chamber at Ferrara represented
+the high point of mythological poesy for the Full Renaissance,
+as Castello with its Signorelli and Botticellis marked a similar
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>culmination for the Early Renaissance. It is lamentable that
+we see these essential expressions of two great moments torn
+from their context and relegated to the promiscuity of museums.
+Yet the scattered poesies from the Alabaster Chamber remain a
+delight, at London, Madrid, and Philadelphia, and give us the
+truest impression of the pagan greatness of Titian in his maturity.
+For this series old Giovanni Bellini, in 1514, painted a
+sylvan Feast of the Gods, Figure <a href='#f_242'>242</a>. Titian, succeeding to
+the work, freely repainted the landscape, to harmonize it
+with his own poesies. Two years later Titian set up The
+Worship of Venus, now in the Prado. Before the white
+image of the goddess the shadowy lawn swarms with winged
+loves. They frolic, dally, pluck apples shaken down by
+their mates from the trees above. The strong little bodies
+glow delicately like the inside of a great shell. A rhythm of
+joyous life runs through the picture. In due course Rubens,
+Boucher and Fragonard will fill earth and air with tumbling
+Cupids like these, but will hardly recapture the spontaneous
+ecstasy of this scene. It is baffling to learn that its origins are
+academic—from the imaginary gallery of the Alexandrian
+philosopher, Philostratus. Again a two year interval, for Titian
+ever declined to be hurried, and, in 1520, the Bacchanal, or
+Bacchus among the Andrians, was ready. About the lolling
+figures of two clothed nymphs, the sleek brown bodies of
+nude sylvans bend in grand gestures as they pour the wine.
+At the left Bacchus in professional aloofness goes about
+the serious business of emptying a flagon. At the right is
+flung the relaxed body of a nymph overcome by sleep and wine.
+Her splendid nudity shines forth in competition with a soaring
+afternoon cloud, while behind her a lightly draped shepherd
+dances with his lass. The orgy is swept by the clean breeze
+and dappled with sunlight—purifying elements. We have
+not intoxication in the gross sense, but the Greek notion of an
+elemental Bacchic inspiration.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>The decoration was triumphantly completed in 1523 with the
+Bacchus and Ariadne, Figure <a href='#f_260'>260</a>, now in the National Gallery.
+The noisy train of the god of wine sweeps into the picture
+oblivious of the heroine. As the leopards swing the car along
+the strand, the God flings himself rapturously towards the form
+of startled Ariadne, who with a grand, hesitating gesture
+turns her head and body away while her legs and feet still
+bear her towards her wooer. The thing sparkles with wine-red
+and azure, tingles electrically with passion, gives forth a
+clamor which is also a harmony. Its exuberance is well contained
+in noble compositional forms. The passionate yet
+disciplined soul of Titian approaching fifty is fully expressed
+in this marvellous work.</p>
+
+<div id='f_273'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_273.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 273.</span> Titian. The Entombment.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Passing to the religious pictures once more, the Entombment,
+Figure <a href='#f_273'>273</a>, now in the Louvre, which was painted for the
+Gonzagas about 1525, is again a masterpiece of unaffected feeling
+and of finest disposition of masses. The central group looms
+against the sky with the grandeur of a great dome. Whoever
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span>has seen strong men caring for the dead or stricken will realize
+the reserve and nobility of acts which are expressions of sympathies
+too deep for words. I saw things like that at the
+Messina earthquake. Equally fine and restrained is the protective
+attitude of the Magdalen towards a Mary stark and
+mute with grief. Magnificent is the contrast of the grand
+nude forms of the dead Christ, with the rich stuffs in which the
+attendants are clothed. I imagine when Titian conceived this
+simple elegy with such power and pathos he may have had
+scornful reference to Raphael’s distorted and sensational version
+of the same theme, Figure <a href='#f_186'>186</a>. And perhaps the æsthetic
+lesson of the picture is that choice feeling is far more difficult
+of attainment than fine painting.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1533, Titian, by command, met the Emperor Charles V
+at Augsburg, was promptly made a knight and later a count
+palatine. From now on he was much employed by the Emperor
+and his son Philip. With that relationship a change begins to
+come over his art. He becomes less exuberant, more official
+and objective. Titian at sixty has said almost every possible
+thing on his own account, and is content for a space to be
+observer and recorder of the stately world about him. We
+have descriptions of him at this time, maintaining a princely
+hospitality in his palace, and declining to share the dissipations
+which he willingly provided for such loose-living friends as
+Francesco Sansovino and Pietro Aretino.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>He strangely depoetizes himself. The change comes somewhere
+about 1536, and a notable evidence of it is in the portrait
+of a lady in peacock blue velvet, in the Pitti. Posterity has
+agreed to call her simply La Bella, and so impersonal a
+style well befits her impassive beauty. Materially Titian
+has never painted more exquisitely, but it has become a
+painting of surfaces. The appeal is vague, general, social,
+there are no personal intimations, merely a magnificent
+statement of entirely obvious perfections.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>Again Titian is content to be the mere painter in the so-called
+Venus of Urbino, Figure <a href='#f_274'>274</a>. It was painted about
+1538, and is in the Uffizi. Evidently the sleeping Venus of
+Giorgione is in Titian’s mind, but what a loss in awaking her!
+Titian sees the gracious forms for what they are of nacreous
+light and rosy shadow, he sees the room for what it is in distribution
+of curtained interior and alcove space irradiated by
+morning light. He studies curiously the delicate nuances of
+bluer sheet and creamier skin, he models out the slender body
+with faintest investment of almost imperceptible shadow. In
+short, he is just a painter, but what a painter he is!</p>
+
+<div id='f_274'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_274.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 274.</span> Titian. Venus of Urbino.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>About the same time he did the official portraits of Eleonora
+and Federigo Gonzaga. He treats them as grandees. They
+are imposing, almost pompous, every inch the prince and
+princess. He sees with a courtier’s eye, and gives to official
+portraiture that impersonal cast which it has since only too
+faithfully retained. He revives the great traditions of Venetian
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>narrative painting. The great wall painting, in the Ducal
+Palace, of the Imperial Victory at Cadore has perished. Old
+copies and engravings tell us of its energy, picturesqueness and
+panoramic breadth. Fortunately the great mural canvas,
+finished in 1538 and representing Mary entering the Temple,
+is still in its place; for the old School of the Carità has become
+the Academy. In this picture Titian realizes all that the
+Veronese and Venetian painters from Altichiero down had
+sought for. Like his predecessors, he is chiefly spectacular,
+subordinating character, but he attains a monumental breadth
+which they never remotely glimpsed. The scheme is worked
+out in magnificent oblongs varied by triangular forms which
+repeat the motive of the steps. The chief narrative motives,
+the childish determination of the Virgin, the gracious expectancy
+of the high priest, the admiration of the women below,
+hold their own amazingly in the vast space. The surface sings
+with color. The painting was affixed to the wall in 1538, fully
+ten years before Paolo Veronese had made this sort of pageantry
+his special domain.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Almost as dispassionate is the great canvas, depicting Christ
+before the People (1543), at Vienna. It becomes less an
+expression of the submission of Christ than an exaltation of
+the Imperial power that has him in charge and of the mob
+spirit that cries for his blood. The architectural surroundings
+are magnificent. There are wonderful details, as in the howling
+boy at the left and the white form of a girl caught in the throng.
+Her sudden apparition as an element of relief and mystery
+anticipates by nearly a century a similar device in Rembrandt’s
+Night Watch.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Very characteristic in its patrician decorum is The Disciples
+at Emmaus, in the Louvre, Figure <a href='#f_275'>275</a>, which was painted
+about 1545. Here there is no intensity in the moment of
+surprise and revelation. Benignly the Christ breaks bread;
+reverently and without excitement the disciples give him his
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span>due worship. All the homeliness and surprise that are in St.
+Luke’s narrative, and that Rembrandt later emphasized, have
+been leveled out in the interest of discretion and nobility.
+The disciples show no more enthusiasm than a Venetian dignitary
+and prelate should.</p>
+
+<div id='f_275'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_275.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 275.</span> The Supper at Emmaus.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Two portraits which were both painted within the year
+1545 show Titian at the parting of the ways. The Aretino,
+in the Pitti Palace, the even finer sketch being in the Frick
+Collection, New York, Figure <a href='#f_276'>276</a>, reveals the truculent and
+sensual man of letters in all his formidable massiveness. The
+satin and velvets in which he is clad are painted lightly but
+with fullest regard for their textures and material beauty. Titian
+liked Aretino and had profited by his bitter and venal pen. So
+without emphasizing Aretino’s effrontery and brutality Titian
+brings out his resolute intelligence.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the portraits of Paul III, Figure <a href='#f_277'>277</a>, especially in that
+scene where the decrepit Pope muses craftily between two
+smooth flatterers and traitors, his own kinsmen, the sinister
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>air seems filled with contesting wills. A veil of atmosphere
+interposes itself before the figures. The touch is light, contrasts
+are evaded, materials count for very little, there is no
+copying of rich surfaces. Even the color is reduced to tones
+of gray merely warmed with reds or cooled with blues.</p>
+
+<div id='f_276'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_276.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 276.</span> Titian. Pietro Aretino.—<em>Frick Coll., N. Y.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_277'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_277.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 277.</span> Titian. Paul III and his Nephews.—<em>Naples.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In its tremulous psychology, in its reticence, in its substitute
+of richly broken monochrome for a gamut of real color, this
+picture is a kind of negation of everything Titian had attained.
+His remaining thirty years were given to ideals which are no
+longer bounded by the Venetian lagoon, but are as broad
+perhaps and indeterminate as the modern imagination itself.
+Before exploring this mystery of Titian’s renovation of his
+art at seventy, and since his Venetian style has closed, we may
+do well to consider some of his contemporaries at Venice and in
+Lombardy.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sebastiano del Piombo<a id='r80'></a><a href='#f80' class='c012'><sup>[80]</sup></a> was born at Venice in 1487, and like
+most of his generation emulated the smouldering harmonies of
+Giorgione. He paints such admirable portraits as the so-called
+Fornarina, at Florence, which long passed for a Raphael. He
+soon passes from the lyrism of Giorgione to a dramatic mode
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>quite his own. He was called to Rome, made keeper of the
+Papal Seal, became an executant of Michelangelo’s designs,
+and thus indulged a losing rivalry with Raphael. He commands
+a heavy dignity in his male portraits, and in his various
+pictures of the Dead Christ and Mary, attains a robust and
+telling pathos. Down to his death, in 1547, he maintained a
+tradition of Giorgionesque color in the alien air of Rome, and
+represented something of the gravity of the Venetian Renaissance
+in a city rapidly giving itself to sensationalism.</p>
+
+<div id='f_278'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_278.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 278.</span> Palma Vecchio. Adoration of the Shepherds.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Palma Vecchio<a id='r81'></a><a href='#f81' class='c012'><sup>[81]</sup></a> is a more considerable figure. Born at
+Serinalta amid the Bergamesque hills, in 1480, we find him at
+Venice, by 1505 among the pupils of Giovanni Bellini. Like
+the rest, he is touched by Giogione’s poetry, but on the whole
+he merely intensifies and refines upon simpler methods. He
+follows Titian in the conversation piece, and does many Arcadian
+Holy Families which are beautifully lighted, radiantly
+colored and felt with a warmth and simplicity that just misses
+sentimentality. Among the best is the Adoration of the
+Shepherds, Figure <a href='#f_278'>278</a>, in the Louvre.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>With Titian, he loves women of generous build and he sets
+off their impressive charms by careful posing, employing all
+the new devices of counterpoise. One may see him at his
+grandest in the altar-piece of St. Barbara,
+Figure <a href='#f_279'>279</a>, painted after 1561. The saint is
+worthy to be the patroness of artillerymen.
+She holds her martyr’s palm like a field
+marshal’s baton, she is imperiously confident
+and yet gentle—a lovely Amazon of the
+Christian pantheon.</p>
+
+<div id='f_279'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_279.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 279.</span> Palma Vecchio.—<em>S.M. Formosa.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the Arcadian nude Palma has delicacy
+and refinement of workmanship, but the
+mood is obvious. For him beauty is literally
+skin deep, and he gives himself to the impossible
+competition of paint with nature’s
+nacreous shades and ineffable carnations.
+But he so nearly succeeds that just as a
+painter of lovely surfaces no Venetian painter
+quite equalled him, not even Titian, and with
+this single talent Palma almost made himself a great portraitist.
+Indeed if painting surfaces were all of portraiture, he
+would be the greatest portraitist of the Renaissance. But his
+big, blond models lose condition in his hands. Charming as is
+such a group as the Three Graces at Dresden, or the dozen or
+more single portraits of men and women, they lack the last
+quality of distinction. He tries to gain it by adopting rather
+overtly the pathos and wistfulness of Giorgione, but it doesn’t
+suit his exquisitely groomed cavaliers nor yet their even more
+exquisitely groomed and most ample light o’loves. Indeed,
+despite a handful of superb portraits, Palma has ever the air
+rather of a consummate beauty doctor than that of a great
+artist. However that be, his influence was widespread
+throughout Northern Italy, and especially around his native
+Bergamo. He died in 1528, leaving a Veronese pupil, Bonifazio,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>to complete his unfinished canvases and to carry on to
+the middle of the century his brilliant and gentle style. Within
+his narrow range Palma is admirable, never uneasy, never
+below himself. In his unperturbed Arcadianism and even in
+his harmless sentimentalism, in his delicacy and robustness,
+he seems more Venetian than the Venetians themselves.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Composure is the very soul of the grand style whether in
+fifth century Athens or in sixteenth century Florence, Rome,
+or Venice. It accepts the human spectacle as worthy and
+thrilling, admires without misgivings the best things that
+come before its eye. That is why radicals hate the grand
+style—and rightly, for it is always aristocratic, caring rather
+little for the average man and much for that privileged remnant
+which lives in highest bodily efficiency and mental ease. The
+grand style is on the side of what Matthew Arnold called the
+barbaric virtues of wealth, health, and generous living. The
+moment the artist begins to question the social order, to be
+curious about the foibles and fates of individuals as such, the
+grand style is in peril. This delicate and inquisitive sensibility
+makes its appearance in Italy not long after the death of
+Raphael. You will find it in Pontormo, at Florence, in Lorenzo
+Lotto, in the Venetic region, in Moretto of Brescia, above all
+in Correggio, more assertively in Tintoretto, and latent in
+Titian’s last phase. It is a tremor on the sea of history that
+heralds a new dawn.</p>
+
+<div id='f_280'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>
+<img src='images/f_280.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 280.</span> Lorenzo Lotto. Adoration of the Shepherds.—<em>Brescia.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Lorenzo Lotto,<a id='r82'></a><a href='#f82' class='c012'><sup>[82]</sup></a> born at Treviso in 1480, first and most
+characteristically embodies the new intimacy. He worked
+widely through Lombardy and the Marches, enjoying a transitory
+vogue at Venice. Trained in the austere methods of
+Alvise Vivarini, he soon gave himself to his own native melancholy.
+One may see his qualities and defects in the great
+Enthroned Madonna, in San Bartolommeo at Bergamo. Mr.
+Berenson has well remarked that the saints are no longer demi-gods
+and objects of worship, but “pious souls in whose faces
+and gestures we discern the zeal, the fervor, the yearning, the
+reverie, or even the sentimental ecstacy peculiar to the several
+temperaments most frequently occurring among the children
+of Holy Mother Church.” Note too how the stately architecture
+derived from Giovanni Bellini and the crowded figure
+group mutually dwarf one another. Intimacy and monumentality
+do not live well together. This picture was finished
+in 1516, the year that Titian began the Assumption. Does not
+the contrast show Lotto an alien in his time and a harbinger
+of ours? In later pictures of less monumental pretensions,—as
+in a Nativity, Figure <a href='#f_280'>280</a>, at Brescia, which may profitably
+be contrasted with Palma’s more assured version,—he attains
+a penetrating beauty of a morbid kind, and his sensitiveness
+makes him a most appealing portraitist. He has left an extraordinary
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>gallery of shy, inadequate, sometimes morose and
+invalid men, and women, Figure <a href='#f_281'>281</a>. They have not the confidence
+of the Renaissance, but hesitations like our own.
+Which shows perhaps that the Renaissance mood was ever
+urban and the affair of a minority of statesmen, merchants
+and humanists. In the little cities where there was no enlightened
+court the human spirit retained and betrayed its
+immemorial frailties and misgivings. Lotto died in 1556, having
+widely diffused his sensitive art through the Marca and Lombardy.</p>
+
+<div id='f_281'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_281.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 281.</span> Lorenzo Lotto. The Marriage Yoke.—<em>Madrid.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_282'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span>
+<img src='images/f_282.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 282.</span> Moretto of Brescia. Madonna with St. Nicholas.—<em>Brescia.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_283'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_283.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 283.</span> Correggio. Detail of Ceiling.—<em>Convent of S. Paolo, Parma.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>It is significantly the provincial painters and not the born
+Venetians who indulge these quite feminine refinements of
+sensibility. Such a one is Moretto of Brescia, born in 1498 and
+active until 1555. Although closely in touch with Palma and
+Titian, he avoids their positive color and dreams his pictures
+in delicate harmonies of silver and blue. There is a morning
+coolness about them which anticipates certain perfections of
+early Velasquez and even of the
+figure painting of Corot. He is
+a distinguished spirit but an
+anomaly in the age of Aretino.
+Milton would have understood
+him. In portraiture, as in the
+richly clad nobleman of the
+National Gallery, he forces the
+note of picturesqueness to restlessness.
+In such religious pictures
+as the Madonna in Glory,
+(1540), in San Giorgio Maggiore,
+at Verona, or in the Madonna
+with St. Nicholas, at
+Brescia, (1539), Figure <a href='#f_282'>282</a>, he
+shows an ecstatic lyrical feeling, and finds the free and florid
+compositional forms to express it. It has an informality
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_415'>415</span>which Titian would never have permitted himself at this
+moment.</p>
+
+<div id='f_284'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_284.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 284.</span> Correggio. St. Augustine. Fresco. Toschi’s Copy.—<em>Cathedral, Parma.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of course the greatest of those who in the name of sentiment
+undermined the grand style was
+Antonio Correggio,<a id='r83'></a><a href='#f83' class='c012'><sup>[83]</sup></a> a provincial
+painter, a disappointed and unsuccessful
+man, who lived out
+his less than fifty short years
+(1489?–1534) in or near Parma.
+His ideas he took from Mantegna,
+master of all Northern
+Italy, whose illusionism he carried
+a point further. He made
+in 1518 for the ceiling of the
+reception room of the Convent
+of San Paolo, Figure <a href='#f_283'>283</a>, a
+trellis through the verdurous
+ovals of which one sees pairs of
+nude boy geniuses at play. He
+paints away the domes of the Church of San Giovanni (1524)
+and of the Cathedral (1530), shows us Christ or His
+Mother soaring into the clouds with hosts of accompanying
+angels. He brings the clouds down through the painted wall
+and sets them before the pendentives. Church Doctors, Figure
+<a href='#f_284'>284</a>, or Evangelists ride their cloud-thrones easily in the
+company of the fairest nude angels of either sex. The painting
+fairly annuls the architecture. These decorative frescoes are
+so vital and so richly various that they demand admiration
+and disarm criticism. To walk among the demi-gods and
+goddesses that loll on the parapet painted about the Cathedral
+dome, Figure <a href='#f_285'>285</a>, is to have known the company of Homer’s
+immortals. The impression is over-powering and unforgettable.
+Cautious people have always resented such profusion and such
+unrestrained assertion of life and joy. At the time they called
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_416'>416</span>the dome, with its confusion of wriggling rosy legs of ascending
+angels, the “frog pond.” They cavilled at Correggio’s price
+and appealed to Titian, who knowing a miracle of fine workmanship,
+told them that if they turned the dome over and filled
+it with ducats, it would not be too much.</p>
+
+<div id='f_285'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_285.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 285.</span> Correggio. Detail of fresco decoration of Dome of the Cathedral. After Toschi’s Copy.—<em>Parma.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was Correggio’s distinction to fill an immense decoration
+with lyrical ecstacy. Michelangelo in the ceiling of the Sistine
+Chapel had done as much in elegiac vein. Both set a destructive
+example to smaller men who followed. For two centuries
+after Correggio’s death in 1534 the clouds blew into churches,
+and rosy angelic apparitions cooled their nude charms in these
+clouds and dangled their delicate legs therefrom, and painters
+worked their will upon mere architecture, and the baroque style
+took possession of all Catholic Europe. At its best it is captivating
+even to an unwilling Protestant imagination, but it
+never regained the height of its beginnings in Correggio.</p>
+
+<div id='f_286'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_417'>417</span>
+<img src='images/f_286.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 286.</span> Correggio. “The Day.”—<em>Parma.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_287'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_287.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 287.</span> Correggio. Marriage of St. Catherine.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In his religious pieces and mythologies, Correggio is respectful
+to the grand style. He had in one way or another taken
+account of his Titian, Raphael,
+and Michelangelo, and he builds
+his groups in their active symmetries.
+But such an allegiance
+to the decorous style is merely
+superficial, his affinities are with
+the following centuries and the
+devotees  of sensibility. Even in
+a grandly composed picture like
+the Holy Family called The Day,
+Figure <a href='#f_286'>286</a>, the women are disquieting
+in their personal loveliness.
+There is no relation to
+the Parthenon marbles, as there
+always seems to be in Titian, no
+suggestion of a larger air. These
+Maries know love, and raptures
+and tears. In the somewhat earlier Marriage of St. Catherine,
+Figure <a href='#f_287'>287</a>, at Paris, the mood is simply one of great tenderness.
+In later pictures like the
+Madonna with St. George and
+the Holy Night, at Dresden, the
+excitement of all the figures
+becomes almost unpleasant. So,
+in the mythologies, Leda, or
+Danae, or Antiope, Figure <a href='#f_288'>288</a>,
+is not goddesslike but perturbingly
+feminine and desirable. A
+most delicate erotic appeal is in
+all this work. It is like Alexandrian
+sculpture. It is still
+noble, but less so than Titian or
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_418'>418</span>Raphael, less abstract and stylistic. The exquisite ambiguity
+of the mood is not quite compatible with the compositional
+formulas. One feels it is but a step and a legitimate one from
+Correggio to the rare, sentimental
+nudes of Gainsborough
+and Sir Joshua and Romney.</p>
+
+<div id='f_288'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_288.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 288.</span> Correggio. Jupiter and Antiope.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In every phase Correggio’s
+work is distinguishable by the
+most beautiful handling of color
+and light and dark. Like Moretto
+and Lotto he prefers a
+blonder scale than the Venetian,
+and makes his surfaces
+so many miracles of ivory, silvery
+grays and straw yellows,
+invested with shadow tenuously
+modulated, yet of strongest
+modelling power. He cares nothing
+about textures or individually
+rich passages; it is the whole picture that counts. The
+brush sweeps lightly and swiftly, there is no loading of color,
+everywhere an exquisite economy and a subtlety that conceals
+itself. At all points, technically as well as psychologically,
+Correggio deals in overtones. And by that token he
+is not of the Renaissance, but is greater or smaller than it, as
+you may choose to decide. He is more our contemporary than
+he is Titian’s.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Meanwhile Titian himself is passing into a subjective phase.
+In 1545 he was at Rome. Michelangelo, who offered him unusual
+courtesies, doubtless showed him the Sistine ceiling
+and the recently finished Last Judgment. Titian, as he
+writes himself, studied with humble amazement the “marvellous
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_419'>419</span>old stones” that the Roman soil was yielding up to
+the newly founded museums.</p>
+
+<div id='f_289'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_289.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 289.</span> Charles V. at Mühlberg.—<em>Madrid.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Even before the Roman trip, his style begins to show an old
+man’s restless vehemence. The titanic ceiling decorations
+for the Salute, of 1543 and 1544, Abraham and Isaac, Cain and
+Abel, David and Goliath, display
+at once an almost sensational
+energy and a lesser regard
+for the superficial attractions of
+color. The rugged designs are
+hacked out in bold splotches of
+light and dark. The method
+begins to be luministic. The
+partial foreshortening of the
+figures to adjust them to being
+seen from below is the decorative
+compromise which prevails
+at Venice from Tintoretto
+to Tiepolo. The new point of
+view is easiest studied in Christ crowned with Thorns, in the
+Louvre. Titian passes swiftly through this overtly dramatic
+stage. The same year, 1548, that saw the Crowning with
+Thorns, saw also the equestrian portrait of Charles V, Conqueror,
+Figure <a href='#f_289'>289</a>, after the battle of Mühlberg. What is odd
+about the picture is the elimination of all military conventions—no
+battle reek, no stricken foes, no busy staff. Instead just
+the pale, inflexible, thoughtful face of a slight old man, physically
+frail but firmly seated on a cantering horse. There is
+no frank color except the purple scarf and the gold of armor
+and horse trappings. Everything is expressed in marvellous
+grays and browns which contain hints of all the colors. There
+is no linear drawing; edge melts into edge without abrupt contrasts.
+A twilight mystery, a veiled quality, adds immensely
+to the expression of melancholy and might. The mere spectacle
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_420'>420</span>of life has become relatively uninteresting to Titian.
+He rather meditates on those creative throes of the mind which
+underlie action. His conqueror is a thinker.</p>
+
+<div id='f_290'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_290.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 290.</span> Titian. The Rape of Europa.—<em>Mrs. John L. Gardner, Boston.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In Titian’s own portrait, of 1550, at Berlin, the new method
+is more strongly announced. The form grows out of a silvery
+gloom by reason of hesitating flickers of light which yet have
+extraordinary modelling power. In character the work is
+remarkable. One senses smouldering under the weathered
+surfaces of this man of seventy-three the most formidable
+capacities for wrath and for passion.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The nudes and mythologies of these final years, the various
+Danae’s and the Nymph and Faun at Vienna, the Calisto
+and Actæon at Bridgewater House, the Venus and Adonis
+at Madrid, all show a very different temper from the early
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_421'>421</span>poesies. There is no suggestion of meditative dalliance, no
+shy Arcadianism. These are mortals stung and lashed by
+desire. Love is not sweet on their lips but bitter and fateful.
+Even Europa, Figure <a href='#f_290'>290</a>, at Fenway Court, the finest of these
+later poesies, seems to fill the sunlight sky and sea with a
+spasm of erotic expectancy. Passion becomes cosmic. Strange
+capacities for tenderness also appear. Compare the Deposition
+in the Prado, Figure <a href='#f_291'>291</a>, of 1559, with the masterpiece of
+forty years earlier, Figure <a href='#f_273'>273</a>, at the Louvre. The noble domelike
+arrangement persists, but within the compositional dome
+what a change! The body of the Christ is no longer grandly
+disposed. It crumples as it is turned into the tomb. The thing
+has the unexpectedness of fact. The canvas is soberly incandescent
+with half-lit faces which gleam through the deep
+grays and browns. Each light is a focus of compassion.
+Titian himself, impersonating St. Joseph of Arimathea, supports
+the Christ.</p>
+
+<div id='f_291'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_291.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 291.</span> Titian. The Entombment.—<em>Madrid.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_292'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_422'>422</span>
+<img src='images/f_292.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 292.</span> Titian. Education of Cupid.—<em>Borghese, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In one of the latest poesies, the Education of Cupid, Figure
+<a href='#f_292'>292</a>, at the Borghese, Rome, the new method may be studied.
+The forms are built up of little and apparently indeterminate
+touches of russets and grays that glow from within. The form
+builds itself out vibratingly. It is no longer as palpable to
+the hand as that of the early Titians, but it is more palpable
+to the eye and to the mind. Tone has driven out color; atmospheric
+envelopment has replaced minute description; the
+artist merely creates gradations of light which afford the illusion
+of bulk. It is what we call today, rather loosely, impressionism,
+or, more accurately, luminism. In the character
+of these goddesses we have no longer wistfulness, that ineffable
+adolescent quality of Titian’s early poesies, but women
+fully conscious of their power to give or take away.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His later pictures, The Crowning with Thorns at Munich
+(1570) and the Pietà (1576) in the Venice Academy, are
+nobly tragic in mood. Titian faces the last great event not
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_423'>423</span>as a humanist, but as a humble believer sorrowing in the
+suffering of his Lord. Carried off by the plague in 1576, Titian
+had lived nearly a century, for over seventy years had been a
+famous painter. In that long course there is no sign of failure
+of power. His dominant mood changes according to his age
+from the ardent pastoralism of his early maturity, through
+the dramatic energy of his middle age, and the impersonal
+splendor of his first old age. And when he had passed the
+scriptural term, he developed new depths of feeling, and
+created to contain them a pulsating realm of light and dark in
+twilight. He had begun with the cool preciseness of Giovanni
+Bellini and closed with a passionate mystery of expression
+which foretells Rembrandt. So far as Venice was concerned,
+he not merely led its Renaissance, but was its Renaissance,
+both in rise and decay. And it is noteworthy that while
+Raphael and Michelangelo end in ostentation of power and decline
+of feeling, Titian ends in deeper capacities whether for
+passion or sympathy, works away from the daylight realities
+of humanism towards new depths in natural appearance and
+new depths in his own soul.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Around such a man a throng of able painters naturally
+grew up. The poorest imitated him, the better took hints
+from his marvellous practice and went their own way. Among
+these was Giambattista Moroni of Bergamo, born in 1520 and
+trained under Moretto of Brescia. Mediocre as a religious
+painter, he was a portraitist of acutest vision for character.
+A provincial, he cared little for the idealizations of the time.
+In such a portrait as the Tailor, at London, or the amazing
+old Abbess in the Metropolitan Museum, or the Husband and
+Wife, at Cleveland, or The Widower, at Dublin, Figure <a href='#f_293'>293</a>,
+he gives us the very look of people, even to their uneasiness
+as they submit to the ordeal of being portrayed, and withal
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_424'>424</span>their intelligence, diligence, and patience. Titian, when overdriven
+with portrait commissions, habitually referred his clients
+to Moroni, as an abler artist in the specialty. And indeed
+Moroni, while lacking Titian’s
+style, looked harder at his sitters
+than Titian ever did. He
+died in 1572, four years before
+his generous friend.</p>
+
+<div id='f_293'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_293.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 293.</span> G-B. Moroni. The Widower.—<em>Dublin.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Bassanos, the father
+Jacopo and his sons Leandro
+and Francesco, were too popular
+to be omitted. Their style is
+pretty eclectic with something of
+late Titian and Tintoretto in it.
+They treat the old religious
+themes, are good portraitists,
+and carry out on their own initiative
+a bucolic sort of painting,
+with abundant horses, cattle and dogs. So homely a tradition
+has its place in breaking down the decorum of the grand
+style. The excellent average of the family in their craft may
+be judged from Leandro’s Pietà, at Cleveland.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Sometimes over the velvety calm of Venice and the lagoon
+will roll up a thunder storm. The radiant color becomes more
+sombrely rich under the tossing clouds. Their steely edges
+break into the lightning flash; domes and towers for a moment
+stagger under the lashing of the rain squall. The storm passes,
+the leaden clouds show saffron backs against the blue, the
+evening is here with double serenity and purity. Such is
+Jacopo Tintoretto amid the reflective tranquility, and confident
+splendors of Venetian painting—a wind of the spirit,
+a shattering, yet consoling, apparition. Tenderness, tragedy,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_425'>425</span>romance, are his realm. Where his contemporaries dealt in
+superb averages, he deals in transcendent exceptions. Thus
+he has ever been a baffling figure to the critics. For the febrile
+Ruskin, he is among the greatest of painters; for the coolly
+analytical Kenyon Cox, he is little better than a reckless sensationalist.
+Every one, friend or foe of his art, must admit
+its Shakespearean richness and variety. He lacks Titian’s
+Olympian poise, but is more universal.</p>
+
+<div id='f_294'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_294.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 294.</span> Tintoretto. Tithonus and Aurora. Tempera color sketch.—<em>British Museum.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Jacopo Robusti,<a id='r84'></a><a href='#f84' class='c012'><sup>[84]</sup></a> the dyer’s son, was born in Venice in 1518.
+At seventeen he was put with Titian. Once passing through
+the studio Titian saw on the floor a number of Tintoretto’s
+sketches. Not trusting himself to speak, he sent word that
+the newcomer should never again enter his studio. An act
+which contemporary gossip ascribed to jealousy, is rather to
+be referred to disgust at Tintoretto’s unbridled vehemence.
+Whoever has studied Tintoretto’s tempera sketches, Figure
+<a href='#f_294'>294</a>, in the British Museum may realize how Titian felt. The
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_426'>426</span>sketches are superb, but Titian in 1535 was in no way to realize
+their value. Twenty years later he may have appreciated them.</p>
+
+<div id='f_295'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_295.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 295.</span> Tintoretto. Presentation of Virgin in the Temple.—<em>S. M. dell’ Orto.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Driven out by the best master in Venice, Tintoretto was
+reduced to the process of self-education, in which he was
+aided by that brilliant decorative colorist and ever luckless
+artist, Andrea Schiavone. Tintoretto’s earliest work of note
+is the decoration of his own parish church of the Orto, which
+he undertook about the year 1546 for the costs. The gigantic
+canvases of the Deluge and Worship of the Golden Calf in the
+Choir made his fame, but we see his peculiar quality better in
+the Presentation in the Temple, Figure <a href='#f_295'>295</a>. It was finished
+only a few years after Titian’s masterpiece in the Scuola della
+Carità, hence the contrast between the two works on the same
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_427'>427</span>theme is enlightening. Titian’s picture is fundamentally a
+spectacle and a ceremony. Everything goes as arranged and
+expected. Tintoretto’s picture is a sudden and thrilling event
+full of unexpected graces. The little Virgin is well within the
+picture, but keeps her prominence through her position against
+the sky and even more by reason of the focusing of intense interest
+on her by all the persons in the composition. It is a
+charming invention that three mothers and their infant
+daughters on the steps should share in the glory of her consecration.
+At the left a prophetic figure suddenly grasps the import
+of the moment and sways with wide stretched arms towards
+the hope. From him to the head of the steps rises a
+pathetic line of cripples and beggars mercifully veiled in half
+light. These are witnesses to the human misery that the Virgin
+through her Son is to assuage. The unifying principle, apart
+from the fine linear design, is the light which floods out of the
+picture over the beautifully carved steps. Everything is conceived
+in depth, while Titian’s Presentation is relatively on one
+plane. Golden browns and yellows of great luminosity are
+prevailing colors, the crimsons and blues serving merely as
+relief and accent. With all its richness of illustrative content,
+the thing is a noble decoration.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A little later, perhaps in 1548, Tintoretto did the first of
+three canvases for the Scuola Grande di San Marco. It represents
+the moment when a Christian slave is about to be brained.
+The liberating figure of St. Mark, Figure <a href='#f_296'>296</a>, swoops down,
+the maul snaps in the executioner’s hand. With a singular
+delicacy the entire interest of the bystanders is concentrated
+on the helpless white body of the martyr. The suspense is
+breathless. Only the old magistrate high at the right has seen
+the miraculous breaking of the executioner’s sledge. His
+gesture carries the eye to the figure of the downward swooping
+saint, thus the most sensational feature is last seen and comes
+as a climax. Such dramatic modulations are of the very essence
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_428'>428</span>of Tintoretto’s genius. Again, though the sweeping
+curves of the linear design are splendidly balanced, the light
+is the ultimate harmonizer. It ripples out in an increasing
+wave towards the spectator, kindling as it goes the colors of
+rich stuffs and the bronzed or pearly roundings of brows,
+shoulders, throats and limbs. The carrying of a uniform
+rhythm of motion through earth and sky is again Tintoretto’s
+invention. He uses it here as elsewhere not as a
+sprightly device—which was later the baroque attitude—but
+as a necessary factor in emotional expression.</p>
+
+<div id='f_296'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_296.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 296.</span> Tintoretto. Miracle of the Slave.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1561 Tintoretto finished the great Marriage at Cana for
+the Salute. The picture is tremendously developed in depth,
+and the Christ is set in the distance. The foreground figures
+alone are concerned with the miracle. Very effective is the
+contrast of the quiet feasters with those who are stirred by
+the marvel. The lighting is consummately fine. There are
+passages of extreme loveliness, such as the swaying row of
+women’s faces on the right of the table, but the whole thing is
+far from clear; illustrative and decorative features are imperfectly
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_429'>429</span>harmonized. In this great scale Tintoretto’s richness
+and insatiate inventiveness tend to work against him.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Before considering his colossal labor in the School of St.
+Roch, we should note his avowed ideal. It might be read on
+the walls of his studio: “The Drawing of Michelangelo and
+the Coloring of Titian.” In the studio were casts of Michelangelo’s
+sculptures brought up at great expense from Florence
+and Rome. And to Michelangelo we owe the slender and alert
+proportions of Tintoretto’s figures, quite different as they are
+from the gravity, almost ponderosity of Titian, Palma, and
+Paolo Veronese. The color is based on late Titian, but is more
+sonorous, simple, and uncomplicated by minor tones. The
+brush stroke is unlike anything earlier—sketchy, impetuous,
+definitive, working by first intention. Accordingly the surfaces
+are much broken, and, to a near view, lack preciousness.
+We have neither the fluent enamel of Giorgione and early
+Titian, nor yet the muffled richness of Titian’s later manner.
+But in the best Tintorettos the touch is infallibly crisp, right
+and expressive. To exaggerate these generously avowed influences
+of the master who repudiated him and the master
+he never saw would be easy. As a matter of fact, Tintoretto
+is always more the illustrator than either of his models. If
+he adopts the grand poses of Michelangelo, he does so not
+for abstract beauty, but ever seeks a motive for them. If
+he chooses Michelangelo’s slender, athletic proportions, he invests
+them with tenderness and enthusiasm. Unlike Titian, he
+avoids both classical draperies and rich contemporary costumes,
+choosing compromise forms of dress which, without ceasing
+to be classical, should seem familiar, and fit for a real world.
+If he adopts Titian’s coruscating light, he gives it a special
+poetry. It does not glow evenly through the picture, but
+flashes intermittently, as an accent or accompaniment to
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1560 the famous charitable confraternity of St. Roch
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_430'>430</span>determined to decorate their beautiful School. They called
+Federico Zuccaro, and Francesco Salviati, who had Roman
+honors, Tintoretto, and his friends, Schiavone and Paolo
+Veronese. The subject in competition was to be a cartoon of
+St. Roch in glory for the ceiling of the refectory. When the
+day came, Tintoretto unveiled not a cartoon but the finished
+oval. That was his drawing, he said; he hoped they would
+not be offended, but he knew no other way. The misunderstandings
+due to this summary procedure were soon cleared
+up. Tintoretto became titular painter to the School, later
+a member, and worked at the two great halls and ante-rooms
+for twenty-eight years.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>St. Roch was the Physician Saint who cared for the plague
+stricken. Thus the upper hall was pictured with examples of
+miraculous mercy and deliverance chosen from the Old Testament.
+The lower hall was devoted to the more familiar
+stories of the life of Christ and of His Mother. Sadly darkened
+and neglected, often in impossible light, these pictures baffle
+all but the enthusiast. One needs all the vicarious enthusiasm
+that may be drawn from a Ruskin to do San Rocco with any
+thoroughness. Whoever persists will be rewarded, for while
+Tintoretto is by no means at his greatest as a painter in this
+work, it reveals his inexhaustible inventiveness, his warmth and
+tenderness, and power, as no other series does, whereas it has
+in the little moonlit landscapes with St. Mary Magdalen
+and St. Mary of Egypt faery refinements elsewhere lacking
+in the master.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Everybody knows at least the great Calvary, with its
+sense of cosmic disaster. Marvellous is the storm which
+sweeps towards the cross from behind, superb alike the
+cluster of faithful friends at the foot of the cross and the
+proud riders at the flanks. Hate, love and indifference mingle
+in the scene. It gets its profound tragedy on terms of fact,
+is free from all mystical sentimentality. What was it like on
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_431'>431</span>that awful evening? is the only question the artist asks himself,
+and his answer, a sheer gift of the imagination, transcends all
+the lyrical sweetness and measured solemnity of the ritual
+crucifixions. Humanism and religion
+unite for once in this masterpiece.</p>
+
+<div id='f_297'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_297.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 297.</span> Tintoretto. Christ Tempted by Satan.—<em>Scuola di S. Rocco.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Among the scores of narratives
+in the two halls the eye will rest
+upon Moses Smiting the Rock,
+for its majesty; upon the meeting
+of Mary and Elizabeth which
+has the intensity of Giotto’s
+fresco at neighboring Padua, with
+an abandon all its own; upon the
+Flight into Egypt, with its
+idyllic landscape; upon the awful
+tumult and despair of the
+Massacre of the Innocents; upon
+the pathos of the white-robed
+Christ, awaiting his doom from
+an indifferent proconsul. These
+occur among many that are
+equally memorable. Perhaps the
+subtle humanism of Tintoretto
+is best shown in the Temptation
+of Christ, Figure <a href='#f_297'>297</a>. Instead of the ignoble bat-like Satan of
+the mediæval painters, we have a magnificent starry-eyed
+youth, a veritable genius of the pride of life. With outstretched,
+generous arms he offers unstinted power and pleasure.
+The Christ regards him with tranquil kindness, as one
+might a splendid animal fawning too eagerly. For so Christian
+a man as Tintoretto, it implies extraordinary sympathy to
+imagine a Satan in his own way gloriously sure of his case.
+In these compositions the method is most various. But
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_432'>432</span>where there are many figures Tintoretto generally avoids
+the convention of placing the chief personages on the picture
+plane. You look over heads or between bodies to glimpse the
+Saints or the Blessed Virgin or Christ. And curiously this
+procedure does not confuse the eye. On the contrary these
+apparently casual but really most thoughtful arrangements
+heighten the sense of reality; one feels like a witness, like
+one himself on the edges of the throng.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Along with the decoration of San Rocco, Tintoretto undertook
+frequent commissions for the Ducal Palace. But the
+fire of 1577 consumed his picture of the naval victory
+at Lepanto, with much else. In the mythologies of the Anticollegio
+painted in 1578 we have the loveliest poesies of the
+Venetian school. These are the Marriage of Bacchus and
+Ariadne, Mercury and the Graces, Minerva expelling Mars
+and the Forge of Vulcan. From the point of view both
+of decoration and sentiment these are perhaps the finest
+nudes in painting. They glow with outdoor health, the
+firm wholesome bodies sway from sheer joy in motion, or
+hover lightly in the limpid air. The noble forms are fixed for
+us in transparent shadows, and broad dapplings of light.
+There is little of the sheer dreaminess of Giorgione, who yet
+counts for something in the work, nor yet of the explicit sensuousness
+of Titian. These noble creatures go about our
+business,—marrying, seeking grace in life, composing strife,
+providing munitions should strife arise. Miss Phillipps is
+probably right in divining here an allegory of the greatness of
+Venice, bride of the Adriatic, protected by her diplomacy, admired
+for her arts, yet ever ready in her arsenals. What is
+better worth noting is the combination of breadth and delicacy
+in the finest of these poesies, The Marriage of Bacchus
+and Ariadne, Figure <a href='#f_298'>298</a>. The interlocking of the superb
+forms in a flowing rhythm or pattern, the technical miracle of
+Venus’s easy turn in the air as she offers the ring and the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_433'>433</span>starry crown, the exquisite alternations of light and half
+light others might conceivably have invented. What is proper
+to Tintoretto and to him alone is the hesitating hand of
+Ariadne and her almost resigned and reluctant acceptance of
+a new love, being mindful of love once betrayed. Also the
+delicacy of Bacchus’s ardent gesture, as knowing himself
+to be not only wooer but consoler, is purest Tintoretto.
+The picture with its companion pieces is the effulgent afterglow
+of the Arcadianism that began with Giorgione. It
+breathes a charm that has never since been fully recoverable.</p>
+
+<div id='f_298'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_298.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 298.</span> Tintoretto. Bacchus and Ariadne.—<em>Ducal Palace.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>While these poesies were in progress, about 1575, Tintoretto
+painted for the Church of San Cassiano the most original of
+his Crucifixions, Figure <a href='#f_299'>299</a>. One looks over the narrow
+top of Golgotha to a peaceful expanse of marbled evening
+sky. The heads and serried pikes of the Roman legionaries
+suggest a throng behind the hill. The sharpest note of color
+is a banner, and the purple robe just stripped from the Christ.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_434'>434</span>Between John and Mary and the executioners on the ladder
+and against the sky the strangest episode passes. It is the
+moment when a Pharisee hands up to the executioner the
+mocking placard “Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews.”
+With a sudden impulse John points out the act to Mary, to
+console her. Christ’s enemies affirm the truth of him. Even
+in the hour of defeat and death he is eternally his people’s
+king. The level light which ripples softly over the nude
+forms of Christ and the thieves takes away all harshness.
+At San Rocco Tintoretto presented an epic and cosmic
+terror. Here he suggests all the intimate and lyrical hopes
+that have grown out of the sacrifice on Calvary.</p>
+
+<div id='f_299'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_299.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 299.</span> Tintoretto. Calvary.—<em>S. Cassiano.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Like all the Venetians Tintoretto was an admirable portraitist.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_435'>435</span>His sober and powerful vein is well shown in the
+Madonna with Three Magistrates, Figure <a href='#f_300'>300</a>.</p>
+
+<div id='f_300'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_300.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 300.</span> Tintoretto. Madonna with Three Magistrates.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Among the later altar-pieces none is finer than the Miracle
+of St. Agnes in the Orto. It has all of Tintoretto’s sweetness,
+power and suddenness, and is nearly in its original condition
+of color. In 1587, being nearly seventy years old, he got the
+commission for his greatest and perhaps his last picture, the
+Paradise, in the Hall of the Great Council in the Ducal
+Palace. Darkened and dried, it is still to the perceptive
+observer a billowing sea of rapturous faces of the blest, obeying
+in its widening circles of cloud-borne angels an oceanic
+rhythm. During the three years that Tintoretto was painting
+it, his young daughter and comrade, Marietta, dressed
+like a Shakespearean page for greater convenience, worked and
+chattered beside him on the scaffolding. She hardly lived to
+see the great canvas set on its wall. Tintoretto lived on till
+1594, and then his aged and withered body was carried across
+the canal from his palace to his vault in the Orto. Such
+friends as Schiavone and Paolo Veronese had gone before him,
+the old merrymakings and impromptu concerts in his home
+had ceased. It was a very tired old man who bid his sons continue
+the honorable trade of painting. He had shared nobly
+the greatest range of human emotions, and his last artistic
+vision was of an ecstatic peace in Paradise.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_436'>436</span>After Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese<a id='r85'></a><a href='#f85' class='c012'><sup>[85]</sup></a> seems an anti-climax.
+His imagination is very limited. His greatest pictures treat
+the sole theme of stately feasts. His soul is that of a very
+high class society editor. But no well-advised person looks
+to Paolo Veronese for soul. One rather seeks in him judgment
+and fine painting. Both are at their maximum.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Paolo Caliari was born at Verona in 1528, trained by a half
+primitive master, Antonio Badile, and influenced by the energetic
+compositions of Brusasorci. Paolo inherited the long
+Veronese tradition for spectacular narrative painting with
+splendid architectural accessories, and he carries the local tradition
+to its close and height. He came to Venice at twenty-seven,
+a finished and famous artist, bringing with him a novel
+sort of color. He avoids the contrasts and keen resonances of
+the true Venetians, painting rather in luminous half tones
+based on gray and blue. His forms are rich and solid without
+heavy shadow, and his canvases have the generally blond
+and uniform color quality of the modern out-of-door school.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His preference is for feasts and pageants. We have the
+spectacle of a rich and gentle society, dignified in its pleasures
+and resplendent in its costume. Gold brocade sets off the
+pearly skins of the portly and gracious ladies in his pictures,
+and their cavaliers are as magnificently clad in satins, velvets
+and furs. The feasts are generally half out of doors in great
+colonnades, with the light glinting impartially upon fair throats
+and faces and upon channeled columns and sculptured balustrades.
+Behind, pale cornices and spires swim against a blue
+sky.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was the habit of the wealthy chapters of monks who
+maintained the great Venetian churches to paint in their
+refectories some Scriptural feast, as a warrant perhaps for
+their own daily convivialities. Earlier, the most solemn of
+all meals, The Last Supper, would have been chosen. Not so
+with Veronese and his contemporaries. They chose instead
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_437'>437</span>the Marriage at Cana or the Feast in the House of Simon or
+of Levi, Figure <a href='#f_301'>301</a>,—splendid events of small or only incidental
+religious significance, and treated merely as contemporary
+banquets.</p>
+
+<div id='f_301'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_301.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 301.</span> Paolo Veronese. Feast in Levi’s House.—<em>Venice.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of the four great feasts painted by Paolo Veronese the
+Marriage at Cana, in the Louvre, painted in 1563, is earliest,
+and most imposing. It builds up indefinitely from the
+marble pavement, with tier upon tier of people, clinging
+to columns and peering from balconies. One may count no
+less than two hundred and fifty heads. It has all the stir of
+a public banquet and everywhere the greatest richness of table
+accessories and costumes. The theme called for little religious
+emotion. The miracle itself is a convivial one. Yet
+Veronese has made this different from other feasts by a most
+complicated system of guiding lines which always lead the
+eye to the gentle face of the Christ in the centre. He fairly
+dominates all this animation and splendor. In the trio of
+musicians in the foreground Veronese has given us a precious
+hint of the part music played in the life of all Venetian artists.
+Paolo himself plays the viola, Tintoretto the ’cello, and Titian
+the bass. What is remarkable about the great canvas is its
+unity. Bathed in equable cool light, the eye takes it in at a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_438'>438</span>glance; there is no confusing or distracting emphasis; the
+whole thing is nobly tranquillizing.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1569 Veronese was in Rome. We may possibly see some
+slight influence of Michelangelo
+in the frescoes of the Villa Barbaro,
+at Maser. These contain
+the only nudes of Veronese that
+have a real athleticism, and the
+whole decoration has a more
+positive and sprightly spirit than
+is usual in Veronese’s placid
+style. Working in a country
+house for liberal and congenial
+patrons, Daniele Barbaro was
+himself an architect of merit,
+Veronese sheds something of
+that professional dignity which
+is sometimes excessive in his
+official work.</p>
+
+<div id='f_302'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_302.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 302.</span> Paolo Veronese. Marriage of St. Catherine.—<em>Santa Caterina.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Among his numerous altar-pieces,
+the Marriage of St. Catherine,
+Figure <a href='#f_302'>302</a>, in the Venetian Church of that name is perhaps
+the most gracious. The women are adorable—hothouse
+flowers, incredible for poise, hue and delicate surface
+bloom. They are not very personal, their charm is a
+social one. But they are very gentle, reasonably unconscious
+of their own beauty, and quite unforgettably lovely. It
+took a wonderful eye to see them at once so simple and so
+regal.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In the last twelve years of his life, Veronese was constantly
+employed in the Ducal Palace and the adjoining public buildings.
+He employed assistants freely, and the work affords difficult
+critical problems. The work is uneven. In mythology
+he belies the hopes based on the frescoes at Maser, where it
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_439'>439</span>seemed as if he too might attain the Olympian mood. It is
+sadly lacking in the hoydenish group that enacts Europa and
+the Bull, Figure <a href='#f_303'>303</a>, in the Ducal Palace. Why are these
+heavy Venetian lasses risking their skins and skirts and
+shins near the seaside and a bull? The flat prose of the
+feeling, or rather the absence of any real feeling, makes one
+forget the splendor of the painting. Such also is the effect of
+the superbly painted Venus and Mars, at New York, and of
+most of the mythologies. We have to do with sheer prose and
+not very sincere prose at that.</p>
+
+<div id='f_303'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_303.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 303.</span> Paolo Veronese. Rape of Europa.—<em>Ducal Palace.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>When, however, the theme can be drawn from everyday
+Venice, Veronese is overpoweringly fine. Again and again
+in looking at the ceilings of the Ducal Palace one catches
+his breath before such visions of magnificence as Venice as
+Justice, Figure <a href='#f_304'>304</a>, Venice as Queen of the World. For all its
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_440'>440</span>contemporary quality, it attains a strange other-worldliness.
+It is as if some one had looked at superb Venice through a
+magnifying glass that ennobled the forms and greatly enhanced
+the colors. You feel how
+Veronese loved it all and how
+little he cared for anything beyond
+the splendor, dignity and
+prosperity of his adoptive city.
+He gives us the look of Venice
+at her climax of Renaissance
+glory, as Carpaccio had given the
+dying radiance of her mediæval
+estate. From the point of view
+of judgment, style and fine
+craftsmanship, it is impossible to
+overpraise Veronese. He should
+be regarded rather as a great
+painter in the narrower sense
+than a supreme artist. When
+he died in 1588, only fifty years old, he left a very enduring
+inheritance.</p>
+
+<div id='f_304'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_304.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 304.</span> Paolo Veronese. Venice attended by Force and Justice. Ceiling Panel.—<em>Ducal Palace.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was on the whole his moderate and judicious sumptuousness
+that inspired the painters of the next century. It was well
+that they sought his imitable merits and not the passion of
+Titian and Tintoretto. It was largely thanks to Veronese
+that Venetian art suffered no such sharp decline as befell that
+of Florence and Rome. The decorative tradition of Veronese
+sufficed to nourish a Piazetta and a Tiepolo a century and a
+half after his death.</p>
+
+<div id='f_305'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_441'>441</span>
+<img src='images/f_305.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 305.</span> G-B. Tiepolo. Time revealing Truth.—<em>Villa Biron, Vicenza.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For Giovanni Battista Tiepolo<a id='r86'></a><a href='#f86' class='c012'><sup>[86]</sup></a> (1695–1770) in sheer force
+and fertility yields to none of his Renaissance predecessors.
+There never was a more valiant draughtsman or a more splendid colorist. Such decorations as those of the Scuola del Carmine,
+and the Labia Palace fall little behind Veronese’s pageantry
+in grandeur while representing an audacity of stroke
+and coloration which Veronese lacked. So the tragic scenes
+of Christ’s Passion at San Luigi have the intensity of Tintoretto
+if lacking something of his nobility. In the ceiling
+decorations of Tiepolo, Figure <a href='#f_305'>305</a>, we see the freest fancies of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_442'>442</span>the Baroque, its customary tumult of shimmering clouds and
+hovering pearly figures, repeated with a lightness and audacity
+and withal measure which the Baroque itself never attained
+save in its great initiator Correggio. Such powers as Tiepolo’s
+soon won him international patronage. He painted in Austria
+and died at Madrid. With him perishes the grandeur of
+the Venetian school. Only a tinge of masquerade and exhibitionism
+puts him lower than his constant exemplar, Paolo
+Veronese.</p>
+
+<div id='f_306'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_306.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 306.</span> Antonio Canale. Island of San Michele.—<em>Royal Collections, Windsor.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Indeed the simplicity which is the most enduring charm of
+any art is more felt in the minor Venetians of Tiepolo’s time,
+as in Antonio Canale, called Canaletto, Figure <a href='#f_306'>306</a>, who painted
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_443'>443</span>the irradiated panorama of the Venetian lagoon and canals
+with the ardent precision of a reborn Gentile Bellini. Francesco
+Guardi<a id='r87'></a><a href='#f87' class='c012'><sup>[87]</sup></a> (1712–1765), Canaletto’s pupil, with a freer brush
+and fancy paints the spectacle of Venice, Figure <a href='#f_307'>307</a>, its balls
+and promenades and water pageants, with the sensitiveness
+of a Carpaccio. But Carpaccio’s youthful world is no longer
+there to paint. Romance has given way to casual amorous
+intrigue, sentiment to show. But out of the welter of sophisticated
+gayety still rise clean against the heavens the pale domes
+and bell towers of an older and finer Venice. Guardi is perhaps
+at his best in the numerous tiny oil sketches which deal
+with the remote and solitary groves and ruins of the lagoon.
+Here we have felicities of broken color and niceties of observation,
+accurate notations of evanescent effects of light, which
+can still give lessons to the most modern landscapists.</p>
+
+<div id='f_307'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_307.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 307.</span> Francesco Guardi. Scuola di San Marco. Pen and Wash Drawing.—<em>Lamperti Coll., Milan.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_444'>444</span>In Pietro Longhi (1702–1762) Venice developed a sympathetic
+chronicler of her social pleasures, Figure <a href='#f_308'>308</a>. The
+world of his delicate and witty little canvases is that of the
+card party, the formal call, the
+vanity and ceremony of philandering,
+the shop, the musicale,
+the masked ball. Only Holland
+has given so true and sympathetic
+a record of her smaller
+affairs, and at the moment, only
+Hogarth in England and Chardin
+in France were doing the thing
+with equal ability.</p>
+
+<div id='f_308'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_308.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 308.</span> Pietro Longhi. Maskers at the Zoo.—<em>London.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Nothing better shows the
+slightly anachronistic quality of
+Tiepolo’s grandeur than a fine
+Longhi. The Venetian imagination
+had moved indoors, so to
+speak, had foregone in favor of
+individual gratifications the old vision of the collective splendor.
+Venice no longer dines grandly in the open with Veronese,
+she coquettishly sips coffee with Longhi. If she had declined
+in nobility, she had at least kept her sincerity and taste. Her
+affair had ever been rather with appearances than with ideals
+or interpretations. But since the Greeks no other nation had
+considered appearances with such noble candor. She kept
+to the end the good pictorial habit of letting appearances
+explain themselves. Thus if a Titian will stand beside a Pheidian
+marble, so will a Tiepolo beside an Alexandrian masterpiece,
+while a trim belle of Pietro Longhi need feel no confusion
+before a Tanagra figurine. Time passes gently over a city
+whose artistic aims are as limited as her taste is sure. Venice
+had ever been gracious in her grandeur, and gracious she remained
+even after she had ceased to be grand.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_445'>445</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Titian’s Assumption the Beginning of the Venetian Grand Style</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>Titian’s contemporaries were fully aware that the Assumption (1518)
+marked the beginning of the Grand Style at Venice and that the change
+was revolutionary. The critic Lodovico Dolce writes in his <cite>Dialogo
+della Pittura</cite>, Florence, 1735, p. 286 f. putting the words into the mouth
+of Aretino:</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“After not much time [after the Fondaco frescoes, 1508] he was given
+to paint a great panel for the high altar of the Friars Minor; where
+Titian, still young, painted in oils the Virgin, who rises to heaven among
+many angels who accompany her, and above her he figured a God Father
+flanked by two angels. It seems really as if she rises with a face full of
+humility, and her robes fly lightly. At the bottom are the disciples
+who with various attitudes manifest joy and amazement, and are mostly
+larger than life, and assuredly in that picture is contained the grandeur
+and terribleness of Michelangelo, the pleasingness and grace of Raphael,
+with the coloring proper to nature, and, moreover, this was the first
+public work which he made in oils; and he made it in very little time, and
+young.”</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Thereupon the stupid painters and the vulgar herd who up to then
+had seen nothing but the cold and dead things of Giovanni Bellini, of
+Gentile, and of [Alvise] Vivarini (since Giorgione, working in oils, had
+not yet had any public work; and for the most part made no other works
+than half figures and portraits) which were without movement and
+without relief, spake great ill of that picture. Afterwards, as envy cooled,
+and opening their eyes a little to the truth, the people began to be amazed
+at the new manner discovered in Venice by Titian: and all the painters
+from then on strove to imitate it; but being off their own path, became
+confused. And surely it must seem a miracle that Titian, without having
+at that time seen the antiquities of Rome, which were the light of all the
+good painters, solely with that little spark, which he had discovered in
+the works of Giorgione, saw and perceived the idea of perfect
+painting.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The general critical justness of this statement must condone its abundant
+overstatements and errors of fact.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_446'>446</span>
+  <h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>Aurelio Luini on Titian’s Impressionism</span></h4>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c015'>“Aurelio Luini has excellently understood this art [of landscape]
+to whom it once happened that visiting Titian, and asking him his
+opinion about the background of trees, besides many reasons which
+he heard from him about making the foliage sparkle against the background,
+he saw one of his [Titian’s] wonderful landscapes which he had
+at home, which, having seen quietly, Aurelio thought a daubed up thing,
+but afterwards, having withdrawn to a distance, it seemed to him that
+the sun shone resplendently in it, making the paths retreat on this side
+and that; so that Aurelio had to say that he had never seen a rarer
+thing in the world in the way of landscapes.”</p>
+
+<div class='c023'>Lomazzo, <cite>Trattato</cite>, Milan, 1584, p. 474, 5.</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On Belle Nature and the Antique</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>The Renaissance idea that Nature must be ennobled and corrected
+by the Antique is plainly formulated by Dolce, again under the name of
+Aretino, <cite>Dialogo</cite>, p. 190.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“One should then choose the most perfect form, imitating nature in
+part.... And partly one should imitate the beautiful marble and
+bronze figures of the ancient masters. Whereof who so shall taste and
+possess fully the marvellous perfection, will be able with certainty to
+correct many defects of nature, and make his pictures noteworthy and
+grateful to all. Inasmuch as the ancient things contain the entire perfection
+of art, and can be the exemplars of all beauty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>This is one of the earliest full statements of the notion of <i><span lang="it">belle nature</span></i>,
+and of the antique as normative. The dogma persists with unabated
+rigor down to Sir Joshua Reynolds (see Illustration to Chapter VI,
+p. 316) and Jacques Louis David.</p>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>George Frederick Watts on the Greek Affinities of Venetian Painting</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>“The revival of the Greek Language and Greek Literature raised
+the long ebb into a wave that swept over civilized Europe. On its glittering
+crest the Venetian painters especially were lifted into the society
+of gods, goddesses, nymphs, and satyrs. They might see sky, sea and
+earth peopled with radiant beings; perhaps with a sort of semi-belief
+such as we accord to the Lorelei and fairies, creations that somehow
+easily worked in with creeds and experience. Anyhow, they might see
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_447'>447</span>Pan come dallying down the sparkling brook-side, now shouting to the
+laughing brown nymphs rustling through the reeds, and pretending to
+be afraid, now scattering a shower of notes from his pipes that would
+fall upon the ears as the brightness of the iris over a fountain falls upon
+the eye.”...</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“It may seem strange if I place the Venetian school and Titian, with
+his liberal line—which, however, is by no means wanting in reticence—in
+closer relationship with Greek art of the great period than the more
+classical schools of Tuscany and Rome. Supposing one were to endeavor
+to paint a restoration of the pediments of the Parthenon, it would be
+possible to interpolate with figures by Titian, never with any by Poussin,
+or, I think, even by Raphael or Michael Angelo.”...</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>“In spite of extravagant and even absurd defects (for the great
+artist’s eyes no longer served him faithfully), when Titian, towards the
+end of his life painted the ‘Europa’&#160;... the muse who inspired
+Pheidias laid her hand on the old man’s shoulder, and she inspired
+the wealth of volume, ease of line, and glowing sense of nature’s exuberance.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><em>George Frederick Watts, his Life and Writings</em>, London and New York,
+Vol. III., pp. 251, 253, 254.</p>
+
+<div id='f_309'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_450'>450</span>
+<img src='images/f_309.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 309.</span> Caravaggio. Death of the Virgin.—<em>Louvre.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_451'>451</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'><span class='large'><span class='sc'>Chapter IX</span></span><br> THE REALISTS AND ECLECTICS</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='c011'>The Confusion following Raphael and Michelangelo—Giulio Romano—Caravaggio
+and realistic Revolt—Salvator Rosa, romantic Individualism
+and the Picturesque—The Carracci and the Eclectic Ideal—Later
+Eclectics; Guido Reni—Domenichino—The Waning of Italian Greatness—Influence
+of Italy on the Schools of France, Flanders, and Spain.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Italian painting suddenly declined for lack of taste. The
+followers of Raphael and Michelangelo possessed astonishing
+power and knowledge, but, save their own cleverness, no
+longer had anything to express. Thus painting became merely
+an art of self-exploitation and display, a matter of difficult
+foreshortenings, complicated groupings, and novel constructions
+in light and shade. Such at least was the case at Rome,
+and partly at Florence. At Venice, Milan, Cremona, Ferrara,
+and generally in the North the decline was gradual and benign.
+Sincere art of a minor character was still produced.
+But in the artistic centre the collapse was complete, and all
+the more disastrous that nobody realized that a collapse had
+come.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It is staggering to find that Vasari, in the face of merited
+ridicule, had no doubt that he was a great painter. How he
+boasts of his own powers! “But what matters most for this
+art, is that they have made it so perfect today, and so easy
+for him who possesses design, that where formerly a picture was
+made by one of our masters in six years, today our masters
+make six in one. And I am the credible witness of this both
+by my observation and by my work. And many more perfect
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_452'>452</span>and finished pictures are now seen, than formerly were made
+by the important masters.” (Vol. IV, p. 13.) Nothing is more
+appalling than to find Vasari at Florence and Lomazzo at Milan
+regularly naming Giulio Romano, Polidoro and Maturino along
+with Raphael and Michelangelo. Evidently the old sure
+taste of the Renaissance has yielded to confusion.</p>
+
+<div id='f_310'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_310.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 310.</span> Giulio Romano. Battle for Troy. Fresco.—<em>Palazzo del Tè. Mantua.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Indeed patronage had changed. It is no longer spontaneous
+but organized. We now have academies, art schools, art
+criticism, exhibitions, archæologists, picture dealers. Art no
+longer rests on generally accepted ideas and broad approbations,
+but is a game between experts.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>To enumerate the followers of Michelangelo and Raphael
+and allot to each his due dispraise would be in no way profitable.
+Giulio Romano may represent them all. With extraordinary
+powers as a draughtsman of the figure, and with paradoxical
+taste in minor decoration, we know him already as the vulgarizer
+of Raphael’s designs in the Stanza of Heliodorus and
+of the Burning City. Later (1524–46) removed from Raphael’s
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_453'>453</span>influence, at Mantua, he develops a coarse titanism. The old
+Castello of the Gonzagas and the Palazzo del Tè, Figure <a href='#f_310'>310</a>,
+are tediously full of sensational and occasionally obscene mythologies
+which are done with amazing energy and facility, but are
+as restless and undecorative in design as they are hot and foxy
+in color. And the immoderations and indecencies have not
+even the excuse of naturalness, they are coldly calculated and
+studied. Such talented Florentine imitators of Michelangelo
+as Pontormo and Bronzino we have already considered. At
+Rome, he left at least one disciple of talent, Daniele da Volterra,
+in the composition of whose masterpiece the Deposition in the
+Convent of the Trinità, at Rome, the master himself may have
+had a hand. Rather than delay over these complacent epigones
+we do well to pass to those few more intelligent artists
+who saw that something was amiss.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Michelangelo Amerighi, (1569–1608), called from his Lombard
+birthplace Caravaggio, and Annibale Carracci of Bologna
+are here the outstanding names. The former bitterly fought
+the grand style in the name of naturalism, the latter attempted
+to reintegrate it through a critical eclectism. Their influence
+is dominant from the last decade of the sixteenth
+century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Caravaggio<a id='r88'></a><a href='#f88' class='c012'><sup>[88]</sup></a> had carefully studied the impressionistic manner
+of late Titian but finally adopts a harsh and resolute chiaroscuro
+with the light restricted and the canvas mostly black.
+Thus his modelling is both brutal and academic. His real
+fight was with the nobility of Raphael. His saints are taken
+from the streets and often from the gutters. He loves character
+above all, and wants it proletarian. Within his chosen
+limitations he is a powerful and sincere artist. His masterpieces
+are the Entombment in the Vatican, and the Death of
+the Virgin in the Louvre, Figure <a href='#f_309'>309</a>, which created so much
+disapproval that it had to be removed from its altar. Both
+pictures take the theme out of the realm of legend, making it
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_454'>454</span>drastic and contemporary. Both, while rejecting all grandeur
+in the figures, preserve the tradition thereof in the composition.
+One gets Caravaggio in epitome in The Peter denying his
+Lord of the Vatican. Figure <a href='#f_311'>311</a>. It is a powerful character
+study from low life. Indeed character is his watchword.
+One finds it extravagantly over-emphasized in his famous
+pothouse and gambling scenes, a revolutionary innovation.
+The most famous and one of the best is The Card Players, at
+Dresden, Figure <a href='#f_312'>312</a>. It is the symbol of the painter’s love
+of low life. He killed his man in a duel, and died himself
+when turned out of prison into the August sun.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Before that fitting end he had fled to Naples where amid
+the corruption of the Spanish overlordship his proletarian ideals
+became generally contagious. They were taken up eagerly
+by the Valencian, José Ribera, who with an equal sense for
+character and a more genuine religious feeling transmitted
+the manner to Seville and eventually to Velasquez. So Caravaggio
+became the founder of the modern realistic and impressionistic
+schools, a precursor of Courbet and Manet.
+Except for a surplusage of too emphatic character studies,
+smiling and weeping philosophers, Ribera was a true and most
+skilful artist. Having no quarrel with an earlier grand style,
+he had the grace of simplicity.</p>
+
+<div id='f_311'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_455'>455</span>
+<img src='images/f_311.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 311.</span> Caravaggio. St. Peter denying his Lord.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_312'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_312.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 312.</span> Caravaggio. The Card Players.—<em>Dresden.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_456'>456</span>Both at Rome and Naples swaggering Caravaggio had enormous
+success. His heads, we read, brought more than other
+men’s compositions. He boasted himself the greatest painter
+of all time, and was often believed. From his swarthy tones
+his entire school took the name, the Tenebrists. His experiments
+in interior and artificial lighting were widely imitated,
+and again ultimately passed into recent Impressionism. His
+rejection of noble form in favor of what one sees, and of decorative
+color in favor of natural, was the sharpest possible challenge
+of the Renaissance style, and outside of Italy where the
+noble tradition was only incipient did much to arrest its diffusion. From the point of view of modern art there are few
+more important figures. From the point of view of art broadly
+he has his serious limitations. Most damaging is his waiver
+of civilization, he looks at low life not with the eyes of a detached
+artist but with those of a ruffian. He did not have the
+intelligence to live up to his own formula. Annibale Carracci
+was once looking at Caravaggio’s Judith, and, being pressed for
+an opinion, remarked that it was “too natural.” He spoke as
+an admirer of the grand style. A modern realist would make
+the far more radical criticism that Caravaggio is never natural
+enough. He really makes no close study of the subtleties of
+natural appearance or of the actual refinements of illumination,
+but rather substitutes for the old stately formulas a new,
+more ugly, and less studied formula of his own. Logically
+he should have gone forward with Ribera and Velasquez to a
+real investigation of appearances. But his logic was only that
+of scorn, and it would doubtless have somewhat compensated
+him for a sordid and premature end, could he have forseen
+that his biographers would credit him with the ruin of Italian
+painting.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Through Ribera, Caravaggio’s influence passes to the Neapolitan,
+Salvator<a id='r89'></a><a href='#f89' class='c012'><sup>[89]</sup></a> Rosa (1615–1673). With greater vivacity
+and better color Salvator repeats the character studies and
+tavern scenes, also bringing the proletarian mood into mythology.
+He painted battle pieces of real ferocity. He was an
+irascible, vain and capricious person, proud of being so; a
+scorner of his own patrons and of the bourgeois generally;
+a maker of epigrams, and a writer of satires. His specialty
+is the sinister and picturesque, and he practices it with gusto
+and ability, Figure <a href='#f_313'>313</a>. Salvator is the real discoverer of the
+picturesque, the first enthusiast for the savage aspects of nature.
+Likewise he was one of the first artists to study effects—sunsets,
+storms, mists, and whirling clouds. He excursioned
+in the Abruzzo, equally savoring its crags, torrents,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_457'>457</span>and forests, and its ferocious banditti. His letters on these
+wanderings are among the first and most important documents
+of the modern cult of nature. He writes: “You have saddened
+me by giving me the news of
+your having been in Garfagna,
+and having rejoiced in the savagery
+of that country so congenial
+to my nature.... To
+be merely reminded of it brings
+the tears to my eyes.” Again
+he writes from the Adriatic
+Apennines: “I have been two
+weeks in continual travel and the
+trip is much more strange and
+picturesque than that of Florence,
+beyond comparison so,
+since there is such an extravagant
+mixture of the rough and cultivated, of the level and precipitous
+that nothing more could be desired for the satisfaction
+of the eye.”... “At Terni, four miles off the road I saw the
+famous falls of the Velino, a thing to haunt and possess the
+most insatiable mind because of its horrid beauty. To see a
+river that plunges straight down a mountain for half a mile, and
+sends up its foam as high!” Much of the stormy and energetic
+character of such scenes is transcribed in the best landscapes of
+Salvator, Figure <a href='#f_314'>314</a>. In their age they evoked little following.
+But these forests, cascades, evening seaports, and ruined
+sites were freely bought by the English, greatly admired and
+had their part in producing the literary enthusiasm for wild
+nature in the eighteenth century.</p>
+
+<div id='f_313'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_313.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 313.</span> Salvator Rosa. Landscape with figures.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Salvator avows his “extravagant genius,” is driven by the
+lust for novelty, is a modern and romantic spirit. Withal
+he was a man of capacity and taste with an open-minded understanding
+of quite alien merit. “Here, we esteem M. Poussin,”
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_458'>458</span>he writes in October, 1665, “more than any one else in the
+world.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Poussin could never have returned the compliment. His
+approbation was for Raphael, the Carracci and Domenichino.
+Indeed a chief glory of the Bolognese Eclectics was that their
+critical method sufficed to nurture so classic a spirit as Poussin’s
+and so to establish the academic tradition for Northern
+Europe.</p>
+
+<div id='f_314'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_314.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 314.</span> Salvator Rosa. Landscape.—<em>Pitti.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Though the Eclectic movement is properly associated with
+the cousins Lodovico and Annibale Carracci,<a id='r90'></a><a href='#f90' class='c012'><sup>[90]</sup></a> it somewhat antecedes
+them. The impetus comes from Flanders with the painter
+of Antwerp, Denis Calvert, who came to Bologna late in the
+sixteenth century and founded an art school. Like all the
+better educated Flemings, he represented a profound nostalgia
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_459'>459</span>for Renaissance grandeur, and also a certain detachment from
+the particular Italian artists who had embodied the ideal of
+<i><span lang="it">grandezza</span></i>. Such a man is, perforce, an eclectic, studying widely
+the methods of his great predecessors and seeking to assimilate
+in his own art their various perfections. Besides, methods of
+comparative study which had formerly been extremely difficult
+if not impossible were now easy. Casts were available of the
+antique marbles, fairly faithful engravings were at hand for
+all the great painters. It is significant that both the Carracci
+were reproductive engravers. Denis Calvert was no genius,
+but a prudent and sagacious artist who made the most of a
+slender endowment. His critical and assimilative spirit passed
+over to his best pupils. Their reform, unlike Caravaggio’s,
+was not revolutionary, but based on a careful restudy of the
+grand style, which they had never wavered in venerating.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Annibale Carracci was reared in devotion to Raphael,
+whose fine St. Cecilia was at Bologna. Venice lured him,
+but he was rebuffed by Tintoretto. Annibale made profound
+studies of Correggio at Parma, whence he writes that Raphael
+now seems wooden to him in comparison. He is now launched
+on the impossible quest of combining with the austere grandeur
+of the Roman School, the charm of Venetian coloring and the
+emotional instability of Correggio. Thus it was an attempt
+to restore the grand style largely in the name of one of its
+chief disintegrators, and as such it was from the first headed
+for failure. Yet it was an attempt dictated by the times,
+and the inevitable choice of any superior spirit who wished to
+reknit the Renaissance tradition.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>It was the moment of the Catholic Reaction and of the endeavor
+of the new Jesuit Order to rebuild a shaken Church
+on the basis of persuasion. Largely shorn of authority, the
+Church must now be popular or perish. It wisely chose to
+be popular, adopting the thrilling novelties of Baroque architecture,
+borrowing from the opera its swelling choral cadences,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_460'>460</span>everywhere stressing the note of charm, surprise and emotion.
+So the moderation and austerity which underlay the Renaissance
+style were forbidden to the Eclectics, and they chiefly
+differed from the rival Naturalists in choosing to make their
+sensationalism as decorous as the circumstances permitted.
+Such is the social background of the Carracci’s reform, and they
+deserve utmost credit for achieving so much under such limitations.</p>
+
+<div id='f_315'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_315.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 315.</span> Lodovico Carracci. Assumption.—<em>Bologna.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_316'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_316.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 316.</span> Annibale Carracci. Madonna in Glory.—<em>Bologna.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Agostino (1568–1602) was the brains of the family, courtier,
+scholar, man of the world. Annibale (1560–1609) was the
+nerves,—moody, shy, solitary, with titan ambitions in a small
+and unprepossessing frame. His cousin, Lodovico (1555–1619),
+was possibly the best artist of the three if only because
+he attempted less and followed sentimentalism frankly without
+too much bothering about grandeur.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Lodovico, Figure <a href='#f_315'>315</a>, and Annibale, Figure <a href='#f_316'>316</a>, enriched
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_461'>461</span>the churches of Bologna with great animated altar-pieces which
+enthralled their contemporaries, and today seem more than a
+little affected. But that is merely because we no longer share
+what was an entirely sincere way of religious feeling. They
+started an Academy in which the antique, the nude, and competitive
+composition were the staple of instruction quite as in
+French and British State art schools today. In the Bolognese
+palaces the Carracci did in fresco great mythological series,
+consulting Homer, Virgil and Ovid and Apollonius of Rhodes.
+In the main they had friezes to do, and they drew heavily
+from Correggio, tempering his alacrity with something of the
+heavier energy of the Roman style.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In 1585 the Carracci set up their Academy. It was soon
+thronged. Agostino, a courtly, learned and accomplished person,
+was the leading influence, being lecturer as well as drawing
+master. Even, Annibale, habitually an offish and difficult
+man, is said to have been affable and helpful to his disciples.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In studying his pictures, one feels that he was thwarted of
+his true development. Not only was he much of a realist,
+painting tavern scenes, Figure <a href='#f_317'>317</a>, after Caravaggio’s lead, but
+also a studious and charming landscape painter, Figure <a href='#f_318'>318</a>.
+His soberly colored and gracefully composed landscapes were
+an important influence on Poussin. Annibale’s adventures in
+the grand style, though audacious and loudly applauded,
+really did some violence to his modest and sensitive spirit.
+His was the least academic temperament imaginable, and the
+final disastrous quarrel with his eminently academic brother,
+Agostino, was inevitable.</p>
+
+<div id='f_317'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_462'>462</span>
+<img src='images/f_317.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 317.</span> Annibale Carracci. The Bean Eater.—<em>Prince Colonna, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_318'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_318.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 318.</span> Annibale Carracci. Flight to Egypt.—<em>Doria, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_319'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_463'>463</span>
+<img src='images/f_319.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 319.</span> Annibale Carracci. Ceiling Detail.—<em>Farnese Palace, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Annibale and Agostino were called to Rome in 1595 to fresco
+Cardinal Odoardo Farnese’s palace. Annibale was thirty-five
+years old, Agostino a few years younger. Both had reaped
+all honors possible at Bologna, and they came to the Eternal
+City at a fortunate moment. The favorite decorators were
+men of routine talent, Taddeo Zuccaro and the Cavaliere
+d’Arpino. Caravaggio’s amazing and perturbing genius had
+already asserted itself, but he was not a mural painter. After
+a preliminary series of mythologies in the riverside casino of
+the Palazzo Farnese, Annibale turned, in 1597, to the decoration
+of the great hall. It was a lofty tunnel-like room of refractory
+proportions. The theme was to be the loves of the
+gods. But the great spaces in which are represented Bacchus
+and Ariadne, the Judgment of Paris, Polyphemus and Galatea,
+Cephalus and Aurora, Hero and Leander, amongst other subjects,
+yield in effect to the general plan and the incidental decoration.
+Annibale, who despite contemporary accounts to the
+contrary, controlled everything, has taken as his motive the
+architectural framework which Michelangelo designed for the
+Sistine, with its burden of decorative nudes. One looks past
+heavy painted cornices, Figure <a href='#f_319'>319</a>, to painted statuary in
+profusion, thickly set, and, behind, more nudes in natural
+hues, the whole echoed by nudes in stucco relief on the walls.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_464'>464</span>We have instead of the relative flatness of Michelangelo and
+his predecessors a consistent lumpiness, which, while theoretically
+tasteless, is actually rich, satisfying, and even light.
+Only an extraordinary ability could have kept any kind of
+unity in this wilful and extravagant complexity, Figure <a href='#f_320'>320</a>.
+But unity there is and coherent expression of a mood at once
+pompous and festal.</p>
+
+<div id='f_320'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_320.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 320.</span> Annibale Carracci and Helpers. Grand Hall, Farnese Palace.—<span class='sc'>Rome.</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The pictures, as we have noted, seem to count for less than
+their borders. When we examine the love scenes, we find
+them at once coarse and mannered. They are superficially
+like Giulio Romano at Mantua but without his self-satisfied
+brutality. To this extent they are inferior, and indeed
+the strain to be at once grand, graceful, and passionate is
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_465'>465</span>only too apparent throughout the pictorial part. Yet as a
+whole the decoration seems hardly inferior in power, ingenuity,
+and rhythmical fulness to such ancient masterpieces of kindred
+inspiration as the Pergamon frieze. For the moment
+the decoration was enthusiastically
+acclaimed, after three-quarters
+of a century it taught
+Charles Le Brun the way to
+decorate the Louvre and the
+Palace at Versailles, and even
+today the admirer of the fountains
+of Rome and of her
+Baroque churches must admit
+that Annibale caught the very
+spirit of his day, in its superfluity
+of learned vaingloriousness
+and shortage of the simpler and
+more noble passions.</p>
+
+<div id='f_321'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_321.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 321.</span> Guido Reni. Madonna with two Saints.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>For the artist the work brought
+only chagrin. The Cardinal
+treated him with stinginess and
+personal spite. His irritation
+with his brother reached the explosive
+point. Agostino left him staggering under the weight
+of an ungrateful task, he fell into a dangerous melancholy, and
+in 1609 died miserably, leaving his helpers Albani and Domenichino
+to finish the gallery.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Of the followers of the Carracci, Guido Reni<a id='r91'></a><a href='#f91' class='c012'><sup>[91]</sup></a> (1575–1642)
+and Domenichino (1581–1641), are the most important. At
+his worst Guido Reni is the most repellant of sentimentalists,
+at his best a realist of the calibre of Ribera himself. In his time
+there are no grander old men than his, better painted or more
+fully realized as characters. You find them at their best in
+the Madonna of St. Paul, at Berlin, or the Immaculate Conception
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_466'>466</span>at Petrograd, or the Madonna with St. Jerome, in the
+Vatican, Figure <a href='#f_321'>321</a>. It is hard to reconcile them with
+his sleek and cheaply seductive Magdalens, Cleopatras and
+Venuses. What steadies him in his inconsistency is a fine
+and simple sense of composition. He is lucid where his masters,
+the Carracci, tend to be confused. His taste is more coherent
+than his character. Under other conditions than those of
+academic Bologna and Papal Rome he might easily have become
+a realist of Zurbaran’s type. As it was, he undertook
+the usual synthesis of the grand style with the new sentimentality.
+Generally speaking he is neither grand nor sentimental
+enough, but superficial in both regards. Yet his discretion
+saves him in such works as the ceiling of the Villa Rospigliosi
+(1615) and the supremely elegant St. Michael, Figure <a href='#f_323'>323</a>, of
+the Cappucini. I like the Aurora, Figure <a href='#f_322'>322</a>, nay love it
+well this side of idolatry, for the same reason that I like Kipling’s
+lines</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“An’ the dawn comes up like thunder</div>
+      <div class='line'>Outer China ’crost the bay.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>Both the fresco and the verses have the same pounding and
+obvious, yet thrilling cadences, both bring lyricism to the
+brink of bombast without letting it go over.</p>
+
+<div id='f_322'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_322.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 322.</span> Guido Reni. Aurora. Ceiling Fresco.—<em>Casino Rospigliosi, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_323'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_467'>467</span>
+<img src='images/f_323.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 323.</span> Guido Reni. Saint Michael.—<em>Cappucini, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div id='f_324'  class='figcenter id002'>
+<img src='images/f_324.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 324.</span> Domenichino. Last Communion of St. Jerome.—<em>Vatican.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>Domenico Zampieri, called Domenichino,<a id='r92'></a><a href='#f92' class='c012'><sup>[92]</sup></a> (1581–1641) is
+a far more serious figure. We see him best not in the sentimental
+sibyls which he multiplied nor even in the studied emotionalism
+of his most famous altar-piece, the Last Communion of St.
+Jerome, in the Vatican, Figure <a href='#f_324'>324</a>, but, rather in such decorations
+as those in S. Andrea della Valle, and in the monastic
+church of Grotta Ferrata. Here we find a heavy and simple
+emphasis, a great clarity both of figure construction and of
+composition. For his personal awkwardness, patience
+and quietism his comrades mockingly called him the Ox. It
+took character to play the ox amid the febrile sprightliness of
+the Catholic Reaction. His gravity is marked also in his color.
+He forsakes the old decorative conventions of the Renaissance
+and works in olive and silvery tones which suggest in a generalizing
+way the coolness and freshness of nature. Above all
+he is not facile like most of his contemporaries, but studious,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_468'>468</span>dilatory, and considerate. At times he yields to the prevailing
+sentimentality, but usually he is both spontaneous and reticent.
+He seldom insists, but candidly lets the picture be seen. All
+these qualities appear in the modestly hoydenish masterpiece,
+Diana and her Nymphs, in the Borghese Gallery, Figure <a href='#f_325'>325</a>.
+It is completely captivating for its element of surprise, its
+manly wholesomeness, its winsome setting of lithe girlish
+bodies amid verdure under a gray sky. This unaffected mood
+in mythology has rarely been recaptured. We have it in
+Vermeer’s little Diana at the Hague and, only yesterday, in
+the Nausicaa of Lucien Simon. Such qualities of lucidity,
+reserve, and simple nobility made Domenichino the natural
+model for Nicholas Poussin. We can trace the influence through
+Poussin’s masterpieces, and had France been wise enough to
+understand her greatest painter, her academic tradition, which
+was promoted in Poussin’s name, might have taken a much
+more fruitful course than it actually did.</p>
+
+<div id='f_325'  class='figcenter id001'>
+<img src='images/f_325.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'>
+<div class='ic001'>
+<p><span class='sc'>Fig. 325.</span> Domenichino. Diana and her Nymphs.—<em>Borghese, Rome.</em></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_469'>469</span>An ill fate finally took Domenichino to Naples. There he
+found the ruffianly local painters banded against every foreigner,
+and in particular he met the systematic animosity of
+the truculent Spaniard, Ribera. Outright terrorism alternated
+with petty persecution. They defaced his work and tampered
+with his materials. Soon they broke his delicate and timid
+spirit, even turned him against the wife with whom he had
+lived on terms of ideal affection. Today it remains uncertain
+whether he died of shattered nerves or was actually poisoned.
+Presumably the barbarous Neapolitans would have done about
+the same to any visiting artist, but doubtless they turned the
+screw a shade harder upon a gentle idealist who brought into
+their realistic stews some afterglow of the quietistic dignity of
+a Montagna or a Cima.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>When all reservations are made, the Eclectics had fairly done
+their work of correcting the disorder of the late Renaissance
+and of restoring something of the old decorum. They made
+possible the revival of the grand style at Rome, in the eighteenth
+century, by Carlo Maratta and Raphael Mengs. The Eclectics
+were the bridge by which the classical manner passed over into
+Western Europe, an indispensable link in the chain of the
+great hellenistic tradition. That should be enough to keep
+them in memory if not in unqualified honor.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Our review of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth, century
+in Italy will have served its purpose if it has convinced
+the reader that this was no time of stagnation. We have rather
+to do with activities of exploration and reconstruction which
+are much too restless and various. The intellectual power of
+the Italian painters had not greatly diminished in comparison
+with the Renaissance. Italy still was capable of giving the
+leads which have guided painting elsewhere ever since. What
+was lacking was not energy but patience, reflection and taste.
+The Italian artist tended to regard himself as a swift and resolute
+executant first of all, and no longer knew how to nourish
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_470'>470</span>his spirit as a man. Even as executants, the realists and eclectics
+had the humiliation of finding themselves outdone by
+foreigners. Successively in the seventeenth century Ribera,
+Rubens, Van Dyck, Velasquez, Claude Lorrain and Poussin
+came to Italy and sojourned there. It was in every case apparent
+that the foreigner excelled all native artists in his field.
+The traditional authority of Italian painting still held, but
+its contemporary glory was evidently waning.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>But even in decline Italy was strong enough to hand on her
+torch to newer hands. From Titian stems the florid classicism
+and aristocratic portraiture of Rubens and Van Dyck, which
+dominated the whole eighteenth century in France and England;
+through Caravaggio and Ribera, Italy made Velasquez the
+founder of those most characteristic nineteenth century movements,
+realism and impressionism; through Raphael, the
+Carracci and Domenichino, she fed the white flame of Poussin’s
+classicism, which in one way or another has determined the
+academic development of all Western Europe. Thus Italian
+painting, eternally alive in the timeless region where dwells the
+fame of Giotto, Masaccio, Leonardo, Giorgione, Raphael,
+Michelangelo, Titian, is as well most practically and actually
+alive in the recent and present struggles, failures, and triumphs
+of our modern schools. Without understanding Italian painting
+we cannot understand our own painting. And while the modern
+world will hardly return to the coherence, solidity, and grace
+of the great Gothic and Renaissance masters, I am confident
+that there can be no exit from our present confusion and incoherence
+until our painters learn at least to consult those
+great Italian predecessors who dwelt on the heights above
+which is the abode of the human spirit’s creative rest.</p>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_471'>471</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHAPTER IX</h3>
+</div>
+
+<h4 class='c014'><span class='sc'>On the Eclectic Ideal</span></h4>
+
+<p class='c015'>The nearly contemporary account of Carlo Cesare Malvasia, <cite>Felsina
+Pittrice</cite>, Bologna, 1841, Tom. I. p. 263 is instructive.</p>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Lodovico&#160;... was the first who supplied a firm prop to tottering painting
+and was able to save it from imminent harm and ruin. He was the one
+who courageously opposed that vainglorious time, which succeeded the
+most perfect age, and liberating it from the common ills of those erroneous
+mannerisms which dared to tyrannize that fair profession that had been
+raised so high, not only wished to restore it to its first vigor, but also
+to a state still more perfect and sublime.... Taking the best from
+all the best artists, one sees him, with a facility no longer used and valued,
+form from them a brief compendium, rather a precious extract, outside
+of and beyond which little more remained for the studious to desire.
+And coupling and uniting with the discretion of Raphael the intelligence
+of Michelangelo, and adding withal with the color of Titian the
+angelic purity of Correggio, he succeeded in forming from all these
+manners a single one, which had nothing to envy in the Roman, Florentine,
+Venetian and Lombard manners.”</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>A Sonnet supposed, without complete evidence, to have been addressed
+by Annibale Carracci to the painter Niccolò d’Abate gives an
+even more complete and correct account of the elements that blended in
+the style of the Carracci. I quote it from Rouchès, <cite>La Peinture Bolonaise</cite>,
+Paris, 1913, p. 123, note 1.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“To make a good painter let him have</div>
+      <div class='line'>At ready and eager hand the drawing of Rome,</div>
+      <div class='line'>The movement with the shading of Venice,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the dignified coloring of Lombardy.</div>
+      <div class='line'>The terrible manner of Michelangelo</div>
+      <div class='line'>And Correggio’s pure and sovereign style</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the true symmetry of Raphael,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Tibaldi’s decorum and substance,</div>
+      <div class='line'>The inventiveness of learned Primaticcio</div>
+      <div class='line'>And a little of Parmigianino’s grace.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Not without having strenuously made such studies</div>
+      <div class='line'>Let him place before himself for imitation</div>
+      <div class='line'>The works which our Niccolò has left here.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div>THE END</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_473'>473</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'>NOTES</h2>
+</div>
+<h3 class='c014'>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
+<p class='c015'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. For the altar as tomb-shrine see Yrjö Hirn’s learned and fascinating
+book, <cite>The Sacred Shrine</cite>, London, 1912.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f2'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. For the Byzantine pictorial style see the excellent summary in <cite>Fogg Art
+Museum, Collection of Mediaeval and Renaissance Paintings</cite>, Harvard Univ.
+Press, 1919, pp. 3–10; also a more extended treatment in O. M. Dalton <cite>Byzantine
+Art and Archaeology</cite>, Oxford, 1911, chapters V, VI, VII.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f3'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. For the influence of St. Dominic, St. Thomas Aquinas, and St. Francis
+read the respective chapters in Taylor, <cite>The Mediaeval Mind</cite>; for St. Francis,
+Thomas Okey’s translation, <cite>The little Flowers of St. Francis</cite> in “Everyman’s
+Library.” E. Gebhart, <cite>Italie Mystique</cite>, Paris, 1908, is also enlightening.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f4'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, Vol. XXXII (1918) pp. 45–6. Mr. Berenson in
+<cite>Rassegna d’Arte, “Dedalo,”</cite> Vol. II., (1921) fasc. V, makes this superb Madonna
+a Constantinople picture of the late 12th century. His confessedly slight
+argument fails to convince me. Aside from the air of the picture, the form of
+the wooden throne is specific for Tuscany and the second half of the 13th
+century.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>Cimabue.</cite> Andreas Aubert, <cite>Cimabue Frage</cite>, Leipzig, 1907, is the standard
+work. The various views on the early frescoes of the Upper Church at
+Assisi are well summarized in Brown and Rankin, <cite>A Short History</cite>, pp. 54 and
+57–59.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>An unsuccessful attempt to reduce Cimabue to a myth has been made by
+Langton Douglas in his edition of <cite>C. &#38;. C.</cite>, Vol. I., p. 187–193. The constructive
+and accepted view is that of Aubert. My list differs slightly from his and is:</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Louvre Madonna, about 1275, Louvre.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Trinità Madonna, about 1285, Uffizi.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The frescoes of the Choir and transepts of S. Francesco at Assisi, saving
+possibly the big Ascent to the Cross, circa 1296, Assisi.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Madonna with St. Francis (fresco), after 1290, Assisi,
+Lower Church of San Francesco.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>St. John in mosaic in the Apse of the Cathedral at Pisa, 1301.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Venturi’s endeavor to attach to Cimabue some of the later New Testament
+mosaics in the vault of the Florentine Baptistry, see <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. V., p.
+229—is plausible but not convincing. His attribution of lost frescoes in the
+portico of old St. Peter’s, known from sketch copies, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. V, p. 195—has
+no solid basis. Two fresco fragments, heads of Peter and Paul, remain,
+and are published by Wilpert, <cite>Die Mosaiken &#38;</cite>, bd. I, fig. 144, and by him
+correctly assigned to Cavallini or some Roman follower.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>R. van Marle, in <cite>La Peinture Romaine</cite>, Strasbourg, 1921, has made a
+most careful study of all the earliest frescoes in the Upper Church. Generally
+I concur in his conclusions, but cannot see Cavallini in the far abler work of
+the Isaac Master. The date, 1296, which Van Marle found in the Choir at
+Assisi, makes it pretty certain that all the frescoes in the Upper Church were
+executed between 1293–5 and 1300.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In <cite>Toskanische Maler im XIII Jahrhundert</cite>, Berlin, 1922, Dr. O. Sirén
+makes a comprehensive survey of the earliest painters of Lucca, Pisa, and
+Florence. He endeavors to reconstruct the works of Coppo di Marcovaldo
+whom he regards as a formative influence on Cimabue. To the usual list of
+Cimabue’s works Dr. Sirén adds, with Aubert, a great Madonna in the Servi,
+Bologna; and also a Madonna in the Verzocchi Collection, Milan; and an extraordinarily
+fine crucifixion in the d’Hendecourt Collection, London. Dr. Sirén
+also accepts for Cimabue the triptych of Christ, St. Peter and St James, which
+Berenson first published in <cite>Art in America</cite>, for 1920. Of these accretions
+none but the d’Hendecourt Crucifixion is at all persuasive to me.</p>
+</div>
+<div class='footnote' id='f5'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_474'>474</span>The latest and fullest discussion of Pietro Cavallini is by Stanley Lothrop
+in <cite>Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome</cite>, Vol. II, 1918. I think he is in
+error in seeing Cavallini at Assisi and Perugia. Van Marle, note above, has
+thrown additional light on the continuity of a Roman school.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f6'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r6'>6</a>. <cite>C. &#38;. C.</cite> (Ed. Hutton) Vol. I, pp. 194–5. Zimmermann (<cite>Giotto</cite> &#38;c.,
+Leipzig, 1899), H. Thode (<cite>Franz von Assisi</cite>, Berlin, 1904), and Fr. Hermanin
+(<cite>Gallerie nazionali Italiane</cite>, Vol. V (1902), p. 113) ascribe the Stories of Isaac
+and some other superior frescoes of the upper row to youthful Giotto. They
+seem too accomplished and mature for that and are all allied to Gaddo Gaddi’s
+mosaics at Rome.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f7'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r7'>7</a>. <cite>Giotto.</cite> Osvald Sirén, <cite>Giotto and Some of his Followers</cite>, Cambridge,
+Harvard Univ. Press, 1917, in 2 Vols., gives a reasonable chronology and is
+valuable for illustrations.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Roger E. Fry, <cite>Monthly Review</cite>, Vol. I, pp. 126–151; Vol. II, pp. 139–157;
+Vol. III, pp, 96–121 is an admirable critical analysis of Giotto’s style, but the
+ascriptions and chronology are often doubtful. Excellent on the frescoes at
+Sta. Croce. The essay is reprinted in <cite>Vision and Design</cite>, London, 1921.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>J. B. Supino’s startling views in the chronology of Giotto, expressed
+in <cite>Giotto</cite>, Florence, 1920, in 3 Vols., seem to me fantastic.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>His general order is the Allegories of the Lower Church and the Baroncelli
+altar-piece about 1300, the Arena frescoes 1305, the St. Francis series in the
+Upper Church about 1310, the Peruzzi Chapel about 1312, etc.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>My list would be:</p>
+
+<table class='table1'>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Early Part of the St. Francis Series (II-XVIII)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>before</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1300</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Mosaic of the Navicella (completely restored)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>about</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1300</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Stigmatization of St. Francis (Louvre)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Arena Frescoes</td>
+    <td class='c025'>about</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1305</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Madonna of Ognissanti</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Franciscan Allegories, Lower Church (design only)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1312–20</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Stefaneschi Altar-piece (in part)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1320, perhaps earlier</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Peruzzi Chapel, Santa Croce</td>
+    <td class='c025'>after</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1320</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Bardi Chapel,     „   „</td>
+    <td class='c025'>about</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1325</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Dormition of the Virgin, at Berlin</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1325</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Madonna, Ancona, Bologna (design only)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1330</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>The Paradise in the Bargello</td>
+    <td class='c025'>after</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1330</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Part of the Magdalen Legends there</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Part of the Magdalen Legends, Lower Church, Assisi</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Baroncelli Altar-piece (design only)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Small panels of the Life of Christ</td>
+    <td class='c025'>&#160;</td>
+    <td class='c026'>&#160;</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>at New York, Fenway Court, Boston;</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Munich and Berenson Collection,</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c009'>Settignano (bottega works)</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>„</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+</div>
+<div class='footnote' id='f8'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r8'>8</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_475'>475</span>Padre Angelis, <cite>Collis Paradisi</cite>, 1704, I, p. 33.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f9'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r9'>9</a>. About the 28 stories of St. Francis there is no agreement except that
+Nos. I and XXVI-VIII are by the “Cecelia Master.” Venturi sees Giotto only
+in the later stories. I agree with Berenson that the ruder frescoes, II-XVIII,
+which are based on the so-called Roman work above show us Giotto at his
+beginnings. For the various views consult Brown and Rankin, <cite>A Short History</cite>,
+pp. 48–9, 59, 61.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f10'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r10'>10</a>. Alex. Romdahl’s attempt to set the upper row many years later than the
+rest is entirely unconvincing to me. See <cite>Jahrbuch der K. Preussischen Kunstsammlungen</cite>,
+1911, pp. 3–18.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f11'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r11'>11</a>. John Ruskin, <cite>Mornings in Florence</cite>, <i><span lang="la">passim</span></i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f12'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r12'>12</a>. <cite>Giotto’s Followers.</cite> Osvald Sirén, <cite>Giotto and Some of his Followers</cite>,
+see note 7, may be freely consulted for illustrations and very cautiously for
+attributions.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f13'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r13'>13</a>. Peleo Bacci’s ascription of the recently discovered Passion frescoes in
+the Badia to Buffalmacco seems reasonable, <cite>Bollettino d’ Arte</cite>, V (1911) pp. 1–27.
+Dr. Sirén ascribes these frescoes to Nardo di Cione and follows Venturi in identifying
+Buffalmacco with the “Cecelia Master.” <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, Vol.
+XXXVI, p. 10. The hypothesis still lacks solid foundation.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f14'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r14'>14</a>. By Vasari the Spanish Chapel was divided between Taddeo Gaddi and
+Simone Martini. <cite>C. &#38;. C.</cite> discovered that the work was by an Andrea da
+Firenze who as a document attests painted stories of S. Ranieri at Pisa, in 1377.
+The contract which proves this Andrea to have been Andrea Bonaiuti, active
+1343–77, was published in <cite>Arte e Storia</cite>, Florence, Feb., 1917, p. 33. It gives
+the date of the contract for the Spanish Chapel, 1365.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The very elaborate decoration of the Spanish Chapel is fully described
+in <cite>C. &#38;. C.</cite> (Hutton) Vol. I., pp. 309–312. There are useful literary illustrations
+in Venturi, <cite>Storia dell’ arte italiana</cite>, Vol. V., pp. 792–809. Ruskin in <cite>Mornings
+in Florence</cite> gives a partial analysis which is fascinating from a literary point of
+view, but badly overestimates the merit of the work.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER II.—SIENA</h3>
+
+<p class='c015'><span class='sc'>General Works</span>:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Langton Douglas. <cite>A History of Siena.</cite> New York, 1902.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Ferdinand Schevill. <cite>Siena, the Story of a Mediæval Commune</cite>, New York, 1909.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Edmund G. Gardiner. <cite>The Story of Siena and San Gemignano</cite>, London, 1902.</div>
+      <div class='line'>William Heywood and Lucy Olcott. <cite>Guide to Siena, History and Art</cite>, London, 1903.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c027'><span class='pageno' id='Page_476'>476</span><span class='sc'>Painting, the School.</span></p>
+
+<p class='c028'>Emil Jacobsen. <cite>Sienesische Meister des Trecento in der Gemälde Galerie zu
+Siena</cite>, Strassburg, 1907; <cite>Das Quattrocento in Siena</cite>, Strassburg, 1908;
+<cite>Sodoma und das Cinquecento in Siena</cite>, Strassburg, 1910; all very
+valuable for illustrations.</p>
+
+<p class='c028'>Venturi, <cite>Storia dell’ Arte Italiana</cite>, Vols. V and VII.</p>
+
+<p class='c028'>Bernard Berenson, <cite>Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance</cite>, New York
+and London, 1909.</p>
+
+<p class='c028'>C. Ricci, <cite>Il Palazzo Pubblico di Siena e la Mostra d’Antica Arte Senese</cite>,
+Bergamo, 1904, offers a good and inexpensive survey of Sienese
+handicraft in general.</p>
+
+<p class='c027'><span class='sc'>Sienese Pictures in the United States.</span> Consult the illustrated catalogues
+of the Fogg Museum, Harvard; and of the Jarves Collection, Yale. Also
+many special articles in <cite>Art in America</cite>, especially the series in Vol. VIII-IX,
+by F. Mason Perkins, <cite>Some Sienese Paintings in American Collections</cite>.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f15'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r15'>15</a>. The fact that the Madonna of the Palazzo Pubblico had been much repainted
+in Duccio’s time not unnaturally threw Milanesi and other critics off
+the track. But the date is entirely genuine (see <cite>C. &#38; C.</cite> [Douglas] Vol. I, p. 162,
+note 1*; and E. Jacobsen, <cite>Das Trecento</cite>, p. 18). The latter writes, “The signature
+and date are genuine. There is no tenable ground for doubting them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>I have satisfied myself by close inspection that such is the case, and the half
+dozen or so other panels associated with this Madonna stylistically all seem to
+belong to the first half of the 13th century.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f16'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r16'>16</a>. Sirén, <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, XXXII (1918) p. 45, ascribes this panel to
+Cavallini. Berenson in <cite>Dedalo</cite>, Vol. II, fasc. v, allots it to Constantinople
+at the end of the 12th century. Neither view is even plausible to me.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f17'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r17'>17</a>. <cite>Duccio.</cite> A. Lisini, <cite>Notizie di Duccio</cite> &#38;c. Siena, 1898. Curt Weigelt,
+<cite>Duccio di Buoninsegna</cite>, Leipzig, 1911, the standard monograph, well
+illustrated.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f18'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r18'>18</a>. The whole matter of the Rucellai Madonna is well discussed by Douglas
+in his edition of <cite>C. &#38; C.</cite>, Vol. I. Appendix to chapter VI. Andreas Aubert,
+<cite>Cimabue</cite>, p. 138 ff., and Curt Weigelt, <cite>Duccio</cite>, both agree that the Rucellai
+Madonna is the picture called for by the contract of 1285, hence is by Duccio.
+Aside from many stylistic similarities to Duccio’s early Madonna with Franciscans
+in the Siena Academy, the exquisitely drawn bare feet of the Angels
+in the Rucellai Madonna amount almost to a signature for Siena’s greatest
+painter. H. Thode and O. Sirén hold that a picture designed and begun by
+Duccio was finished by Cimabue, <cite>Toskanische Maler</cite>, pp. 308–9, and note 41
+to latter page. The hypothesis that Duccio was strongly influenced by Cimabue
+in this work seems simpler.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f19'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r19'>19</a>. The contract is worth quoting in part from G. Fontana, <cite>Due documenti
+inediti riguardanti Cimabue</cite>, Pisa, 1878; it is reprinted in Strzygowski, <cite>Cimabue
+und Rom</cite>, Wien, 1888. The papers were recovered from a grocer who was
+about to use them for wrappers.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>“Which picture of the Majesty of Divine and Blessed Virgin Mary and
+of the Apostles and other saints is to be made in columns and in the predella
+and [main] spaces of the picture good and pure florin gold shall be used; the
+other pictures which are to be made in the aforesaid panel above the columns
+in tabernacles, gables, and frames shall be made&#160;... of good silver gilt.”</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The picture apparently was a polyptych of three, five, or seven panels
+with columns and round arches, with an upper order of gables and
+tabernacles. It seems to have been the first well-peopled Madonna in
+Majesty, and it probably served as Duccio’s exemplar. Cimabue died before
+finishing it, but since in Nov. 1302 he received a large installment of 40
+Pisan <i><span lang="it">lire</span></i>, he must at least have fully drawn the composition on the panel.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f20'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r20'>20</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_477'>477</span><cite>Simone Martini.</cite> See the standard work by Raimond van Marle,
+<cite>Simone Martini</cite>, Strasbourg, 1920.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>There is considerable difference among critics in dating these frescoes, and
+no objective evidence. The early date, 1322–25, suggested by Venturi and
+Van Marle, is confirmed by the stylistic character of the work. It lacks the
+calligraphic, linear formulas which abound in Simone’s works after 1330.
+The early date also agrees with the general probabilities of the course of events
+in the decoration of the Lower Church at Assisi.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f21'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r21'>21</a>. Frey’s ed. Berlin, 1886, p. 42.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f22'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r22'>22</a>. The contract for this altar-piece is translated in the illustrations to chapter
+II, p. 106.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f23'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r23'>23</a>. Venturi, Vol. V, pp. 680–694, offers a sensible compromise view of the
+authorship of this series, assigning to Pietro himself only the Deposition,
+Entombment, Stigmatization of St. Francis and a Madonna and Saints,
+ascribing most of the subjects to an assistant. Dr. Ernest Dewald in a forthcoming
+Princeton dissertation takes a more skeptical view than Venturi as to
+Pietro’s presence at Assisi.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f24'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r24'>24</a>. However the “Cecelia Master,” active about 1300, deals ably with
+such spatial problems. See O. Sirén, <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, Vol. XXXIV,
+p. 234, and XXXVI, p. 4. and <cite>Giotto</cite>, plates 11–13, Vol. II.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f25'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r25'>25</a>. <cite>Sassetta.</cite> Bernard Berenson. <cite>A Painter of the Franciscan Legend</cite>,
+(Sassetta), London and New York, 1909.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f26'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r26'>26</a>. <cite>Matteo di Giovanni.</cite> We have the standard work of G. Hartlaub, <cite>Matteo
+da Siena</cite>, Strassburg, 1910. Mr. Berenson in <cite>Essays in the Study of Sienese
+Painting</cite>, New York, 1918, essay on Cozzarelli, has made useful criticisms of
+the list of pictures usually ascribed to Matteo.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f27'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r27'>27</a>. <cite>Sodoma.</cite> Hobart Cust, <cite>Giovanni Antonio Bazzi, usually styled “Sodoma,”</cite>
+New York, 1906.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER III.—MASACCIO AND THE NEW REALISM</h3>
+
+<p class='c015'>On the general matter of the realists of the Early Renaissance not much has
+been added to Crowe and Cavalcaselle, but Mr. Berenson’s comment in <cite>Florentine
+Painters</cite> and <cite>Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance</cite> is of high critical
+value. Vasari is interesting, but never more inaccurate than when dealing
+with this group. As usual the latest collected information is in Venturi. <cite>Storia</cite>,
+Vol. VII, part I, and elsewhere.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f28'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r28'>28</a>. Matteo Villani, <cite>Istorie</cite>, Florence, 1581, Lib. I, cap. iv, pp. 5–6.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f29'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r29'>29</a>. <cite>Lorenzo Monaco.</cite> The standard work is by O. Sirén, <cite>Don Lorenzo
+Monaco</cite>, Strassburg, 1905.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f30'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r30'>30</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_478'>478</span><cite>Fra Angelico.</cite> Langton Douglas. <cite>Fra Angelico</cite>, London and New
+York, 1900.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Vasari’s <cite>Life</cite> is admirable and in essentials correct.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f31'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r31'>31</a>. <cite>Masolino-Masaccio.</cite> The summary in <cite>C. &#38; C.</cite> (Douglas) Vol. IV;
+(Hutton), Vol. II, reasonably brings the controversy up to date. The latest
+review is by Dr. Richard Offner, <cite>Art in America</cite>, Vol. VIII, pp. 68–76, <cite>A St.
+Jerome by Masolino</cite>. Dr. Offner, in <cite>Dedalo</cite>, Mar., 1923, publishes a fine St.
+Julian, by Masolino, which reveals in a new light that artist’s romantic
+temperamentalism. Mr. Berenson, l. c., publishes a predella piece for the
+same panel.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The large album of plates accompanying August H. Schmarsow’s <cite>Masaccio,
+der Begründer des Klassischen Stils</cite> &#38;c. Kassel, 1900, is indispensable to the
+serious student. It is available in the great libraries. Cuts of all the works
+involved in the controversy are more readily attainable in P. Toesca’s <cite>Masolino
+da Panicale</cite>, Bergamo, 1908, and in Venturi, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. VII, pt. I.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f32'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r32'>32</a>. The rider with his back turned at the left of the fresco of the Calvary
+has a rondel protecting the nape of his neck. It is a short-lived and unsuccessful
+invention which was not used before 1435–40. This information, which I
+owe to Dr. Bashford Dean of the Metropolitan Museum, dates the Calvary
+well after Masaccio’s death, and, inferentially, all the other frescoes in the
+same chapel.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f33'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r33'>33</a>. <cite>Cassoni</cite> and other Furniture Panels. The standard work is by Paul
+Schubring, <cite>Cassoni</cite> &#38;c. Leipzig, 1915.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Many of the examples in American Collections have been published and
+discussed by William Rankin and myself in the <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, Vol.
+VIII, IX. See also a popular sketch by me in <cite>Arts and Decoration</cite>, Dec. ’05.
+The furnishing and decoration of a patrician Florentine house in the 15th
+century is learnedly and delightfully treated by A. Schiaparelli, <cite>La Casa
+fiorentina</cite> &#38;c., Florence, 1908.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f34'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r34'>34</a>. See my article in <cite>Art in America</cite>, Vol. VIII, p. 154, and in <cite>Arts and Decoration</cite>,
+Note 6, above.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f35'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r35'>35</a>. <cite>Masaccio</cite>, bibliography in Note 4 above.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>In essentials the view and chronology of Masaccio’s works here given differs
+from Cavalcaselle’s only in relegating the frescoes in S. Clemente to Masolino
+and their proper date in the late 30s or early 40s. In this I have been partially
+anticipated by Pietro Toesca, <cite>Masolino da Panicale</cite>, Bergamo, 1908.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The reader may justly wish me to commit myself on this most disputed
+question to the extent of a list. I give it in a tentative chronological order assuming
+that Masaccio may have begun to work as early as 1420.</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><cite>Early Works under Masolino’s influence</cite>:</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Madonna and Saints (fresco).   Shrine at Montemarciano near S. Giovanni.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Pietà (fresco).   Cathedral, Empoli.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Miracle of healing by Christ (ruined by repainting).   John C. Johnson Coll., Philadelphia.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Madonna and St. Ann.   Uffizi, Florence.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Adam and Eve Tempted (fresco).   Brancacci Chapel.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Resuscitation of Tabitha (fresco).   Brancacci Chapel.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_479'>479</span><cite>Later Works</cite>:</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c016'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>St. Peter Preaching (fresco, possibly earlier). Brancacci Chapel.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Birth of St. John (salver). Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Polyptych for the Carmine, Pisa, 1426.</div>
+      <div class='line in4'>The Madonna, some small pilaster pieces, and a small rondel with bust of God Father. National Gallery, London.</div>
+      <div class='line in4'>Three predella panels (largely school work) and some small pilaster pieces. Kaiser Friedrich Museum, Berlin.</div>
+      <div class='line in4'>Crucifixion central pinnacle. Naples Museum.</div>
+      <div class='line in4'>A Saint (upper order). Civic Museum, Pisa.</div>
+      <div class='line in4'>A Saint (upper order). Lanckoronski, Vienna.</div>
+      <div class='line'>The Trinity (fresco). S. Maria Novella, Florence.</div>
+      <div class='line'>All the remaining frescoes of the Brancacci Chapel save the parts and panels now universally assigned to Filippino Lippi.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f36'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r36'>36</a>. Schmarsow, <cite>Masaccio Studien</cite>, bd. 3. p. 27, 8.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f37'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r37'>37</a>. <cite>Andrea del Castagno</cite>, see the important articles by Herbert P. Horne in
+the <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, Vol. VII, 1905. Richard Offner, in <cite>Art in America</cite>,
+Vol. VII, pp. 227–35, first published the admirable portrait in Mr. Morgan’s
+Library, New York. A magnificent tournament shield with the figure of a
+David is in the Widener Collection, Elkins Park, Penna., and was first published
+by Guido Cagnola in <cite>Rassegna d’ Arte</cite>, Vol. XIII (1913), p. 49.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Andrea worked at Venice in 1442. See G. Fiocca, <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>,
+Vol. XL, p. 11.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f38'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r38'>38</a>. <cite>Alesso Baldovinetti.</cite> See E. Londi, <cite>Alesso Baldovinetti</cite>, Firenze, 1907.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER IV.—FRA FILIPPO LIPPI AND THE NEW NARRATIVE STYLE</h3>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f39'>
+<p class='c015'><a href='#r39'>39</a>. <cite>Fra Filippo Lippi.</cite> Edward C. Strutt, <cite>Fra Filippo Lippi</cite>, London,
+1906. Vasari’s <cite>Life</cite> is capital. Robert Browning’s poem, in <cite>Men and Women</cite>,
+an admirable side-light.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f40'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r40'>40</a>. <cite>Benozzo Gozzoli.</cite> I accept Col. G. F. Young’s date for these frescoes.
+See <cite>The Medici</cite>, New York, 1909, Vol. I., Chapter vii, where there is a good
+analysis of this decoration.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f41'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r41'>41</a>. <cite>Antonio Pollaiuolo.</cite> Maud Crutwell’s <cite>Antonio Pollaiuolo</cite>, London and
+New York, 1907. For later information consult Venturi, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. VII,
+pt. I, pp. 558–578.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f42'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r42'>42</a>. <cite>Piero della Francesca.</cite> W. G. Waters, <cite>Piero della Francesca</cite>, London,
+1901; and Corrado Ricci’s superbly illustrated folio, <cite>Piero della Francesca</cite>,
+Rome, 1910.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f43'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r43'>43</a>. <cite>Early Frescoes of the Sistine Chapel.</cite> Magnificently reproduced in the
+album accompanying Ernst Steinmann’s <cite>Die Sixtinische Cappelle</cite>, Munich,
+1901.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f44'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r44'>44</a>. <cite>Francesco Pesellino.</cite> Consult Dr. W. Weisbach’s able and beautifully
+illustrated work, <cite>Francesco Pesellino und die Romantik der Frührenaissance</cite>,
+Berlin, 1901. For cuts of <cite>Cassoni</cite>, Paul Schubring, <cite>Cassoni</cite>, Leipzig, 1915,
+and the books and articles already cited in note 6 to Chapter 3.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f45'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r45'>45</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_480'>480</span><cite>Domenico Ghirlandaio.</cite> A copious and satisfactory life is that of Gerald
+S. Davies, <cite>Ghirlandaio</cite>, London and New York, 1909. Briefer but of greater
+cultural scope is Ghirlandaio, by Henri Hauvette, Paris, “Les maîtres de l’art.”
+For a summary criticism my article in <cite>The Nation</cite> (N. Y.), Aug. 20, 1908,
+p. 167. Ruskin’s famous assault on Ghirlandaio in <cite>Mornings in Florence</cite> is
+joyous reading if whimsically exaggerated.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER V.—BOTTICELLI AND LEONARDO DA VINCI</h3>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f46'>
+<p class='c015'><a href='#r46'>46</a>. <cite>Botticelli.</cite> The standard work is Herbert P. Horne, <cite>Sandro Botticelli</cite>,
+London, 1908. A little additional information may be found in Crowe and
+Cavalcaselle, <cite>A History of Painting in Italy</cite>, Hutton Ed. Vol. II, and in
+Venturi, <cite>Storia dell’ Arte Italiana</cite>, Vol. VII, pt. 1.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Walter Pater’s essay in <cite>The Renaissance</cite> offers beautifully a one-sided view.
+The essays, the <cite>Soul of a Fact</cite>, and <cite>Quattrocentisteria</cite>, in Maurice Hewlett’s
+<cite>Earthwork out of Tuscany</cite> are poetically illuminative. Mr. Berenson’s analysis
+in <cite>Florentine Painters of the Renaissance</cite> is important. I have written more
+fully on Botticelli in <cite>Estimates in Art</cite>, New York, 1912.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Botticelli’s Dante illustrations are published in a cheaper and more sumptuous
+form by Friedrich P. Lippmann. <cite>Botticelli, Zeichnungen von Sandro Botticelli</cite>,
+Berlin, 1896.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Lists of Botticelli’s works differ considerably. I incline to accept a number
+of early paintings which are neglected by such exclusive critics as Berenson
+and Horne. My own list, which for reasons of space cannot be given here,
+would not differ much from that of A. Venturi, in <cite>Storia</cite> VII, i, 588–642.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f47'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r47'>47</a>. <cite>Filippino Lippi.</cite> I. B. Supino, <cite>Les deux Lippi</cite>, Firenze, 1904.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f48'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r48'>48</a>. <cite>Piero di Cosimo.</cite> Fritz Knapp, <cite>Piero di Cosimo</cite>, Halle, 1899. As usual
+later information in Venturi, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. VII, pt. 1.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f49'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r49'>49</a>. This extraordinary series of which four have been recovered is fully discussed
+and somewhat differently interpreted by Roger E. Fry, in <cite>Burlington
+Magazine</cite>, Vol. XXXVIII, p. 131<em>f.</em> See also letter on page 257.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f50'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r50'>50</a>. <cite>Leonardo da Vinci.</cite> The standard life is by W. von Seidlitz, <cite>Leonardo
+da Vinci</cite>, Berlin, 1909. The early work of Leonardo and his relations with
+Verrocchio have been thoroughly and lucidly analyzed by Jens Thys, <cite>Leonardo
+da Vinci</cite>, London, 1913. Amid the confusingly rich bibliography, the student
+may do well to stick to Vasari’s admirable <cite>Life</cite> in any of the translations, to
+Dr. O. Sirén’s scholarly and cautious book <cite>Leonardo da Vinci</cite>, New Haven,
+and London, 1916 and to the late Dr. J. P. Richter’s incomparable work “The
+Literary Works of Leonardo da Vinci,” London, 1883, obtainable only in
+libraries. Giovanni Poggi, <cite>Leonardo da Vinci</cite>, Firenze, 1919, has thoroughly
+edited Vasari’s <cite>Life</cite>, and should be consulted for latest views and for illustrations.
+My own view on the early development of Leonardo, a most disputed
+matter, is set forth more fully in <cite>Art and Archæology</cite>, Vol. IV. pp. 111–122.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For literary side-lights Walter Pater’s essay, in <cite>The Renaissance</cite>; for an iconoclastic
+view Berenson in <cite>Study and Criticism of Italian Art</cite>, Fourth Series,
+New York, 1920. Edward McCurdy’s selected translations from <cite>The Notebooks
+of Leonardo da Vinci</cite>, New York, 1906, are valuable for those to whom
+Richter is inaccessible. Leonardo’s drawings, which are no less important than
+his paintings, may best be approached through Mr. Berenson’s monumental
+work, <cite>The Drawings of the Florentine Painters</cite>, New York and London, 1903,
+while the drawings before 1480 are clearly and ably discussed by Dr. Thys.</p>
+</div>
+<div class='footnote' id='f51'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r51'>51</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_481'>481</span>The capital mistake of the more exclusive critics of Leonardo’s early
+work is that they set this delightful little masterpiece at the beginning of the
+series in an impossibly early date. There is no such manipulation of paint and
+no such feeling for unity of landscape before 1475 or so. Being a revision of
+the design of the Uffizi Annunciation, it is necessarily later.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>My list of Leonardo’s would include, in approximate order:</p>
+
+  <dl class='dl_1'>
+    <dt>1.</dt>
+    <dd>In Verocchio’s Baptism. The landscape at left and distance, the Angel kneeling to right, 
+    about 1470, Uffizi.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>2.</dt>
+    <dd>Madonna and Child with an Angel, design by Verrocchio, London.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>3.</dt>
+    <dd>The Annunciation, design mostly by Verrocchio, about 1475, Uffizi.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>4.</dt>
+    <dd>Portrait of a Girl, possibly a Verrocchio, Prince Liechtenstein, Vienna.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>5.</dt>
+    <dd>Annunciation, Louvre.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>6.</dt>
+    <dd>Benois Madonna, about 1478–9, Petrograd.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>7.</dt>
+    <dd>St. Jerome, unfinished, Vatican, Rome.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>8.</dt>
+    <dd>Adoration of the Magi, left unfinished about 1481, Uffizi.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>9.</dt>
+    <dd>Cartoon of St. Ann, Burlington House, London.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>10.</dt>
+    <dd>Madonna of the Rocks, between 1480–83, Paris.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>11.</dt>
+    <dd>So-called Belle Ferronnière, perhaps bottega piece, about 1490, Paris.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>12.</dt>
+    <dd>Girl with an Ermine, perhaps a bottega piece, about 1495, Cracow.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>13.</dt>
+    <dd>Clay model of the Sforza horse, destroyed in 1500.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>14.</dt>
+    <dd>Last Supper, 1498, Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>15.</dt>
+    <dd>Cartoon for a St. Ann, lost but represented by sketches at Venice, 1503.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>16.</dt>
+    <dd>Madonna of the Distaff, represented by old copies.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>17.</dt>
+    <dd>Cartoon for Battle of Anghiari, only central group painted, partly represented by 
+    sketches and old copies, 1504.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>18.</dt>
+    <dd>Portrait of Mona Lisa, Paris.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>19.</dt>
+    <dd>Cartoon for a standing Leda, probably only the figure, since numerous old copies have 
+    widely varying accessories.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>20.</dt>
+    <dd>Madonna of the Rocks, 1507, London.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>21.</dt>
+    <dd>Cartoon for a Kneeling Leda, the figure only. Sketches and old copies.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>22.</dt>
+    <dd>Madonna and St. Ann, Paris.
+    </dd>
+    <dt>23.</dt>
+    <dd>St. John, half-length, Paris.
+    </dd>
+    </dl>
+
+<p class='c007'>All Leonardo’s main activity as a painter lies from 1470–1500. He painted
+a picture about every two years.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Various sculptures have been ascribed to Leonardo. Of these only two,
+which will have been made in Verrocchio’s <i><span lang="it">bottega</span></i> and under his direction,
+seem to me to deserve the distinction. A terra cotta Madonna and Child in
+the Metropolitan Museum, there ascribed to Verrocchio’s school, may represent
+Leonardo’s modelling about 1465. A stucco Madonna owned by Mr.
+George Diblee, at Oxford, is perhaps ten years later. The first is discussed
+by me in <cite>Art and Archaeology</cite>, Vol. IV, p. 122; the second is reproduced and
+accepted as a Leonardo by Prof. A. Venturi in <cite>L’ Arte</cite>, Vol. XXV, p. 131.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f52'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r52'>52</a>. The best study of this picture and of its contemporary influence is that
+of George Gronau in <cite>Zeitschrift für bildende Kunst</cite>. N. F. Vol. XXIII, pp.
+253–259. He fails to perceive that so primitive a picture as late as 1478
+furnishes the best reason for accepting most of the rejected early Leonardos.</p>
+</div>
+<div class='footnote' id='f53'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r53'>53</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_482'>482</span>In all this matter Jens Thys’s admirable studies are indispensable.
+See note 5 above.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f54'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r54'>54</a>. The Lady and the Ermine and the Belle Ferronnière are thoroughly discussed
+by H. Ochenkowski, <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, Vol. XXXIV, p. 186 <em>f.</em>, where
+a full bibliography will be found.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f55'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r55'>55</a>. This error which has persisted since Vasari was finally corrected by
+the great restorer Cavenaghi in his report of the last restoration. Malaguzzi
+Valeri in <cite>Milano</cite>, Bergamo, 1906, pt. 2, p. 14, first advanced the correct view
+that the painting was done in tempera.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f56'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r56'>56</a>. Kenyon Cox, <cite>Concerning Painting</cite>, New York, 1917, p. 73.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f57'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r57'>57</a>. <cite>Fra Bartolommeo.</cite> The standard work is Fritz Knapp’s <cite>Fra Bartolommeo
+della Porta</cite>, Halle, 1903. H. v. d. Gablentz, <cite>Fra Bartolommeo</cite> in 2 vols.,
+Leipzig, 1922.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f58'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r58'>58</a>. <cite>Andrea del Sarto.</cite> H. Guinness, <cite>Andrea del Sarto</cite>, London and New
+York, 1901. Andrea’s drawings are finely analyzed by Bernard Berenson in
+<cite>The Drawings of the Florentine Painters</cite>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f59'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r59'>59</a>. <cite>Bronzino.</cite> Hans Schulze, <cite>Die Werke Angelo Bronzino’s</cite>, Strassburg,
+1911.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f60'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r60'>60</a>. <cite>Pontormo.</cite> We have two admirable books by the same writer, Dr.
+F. M. Clapp; <cite>Les Dessins de Pontormo</cite>, Paris, 1914; <cite>Pontormo, his Life and
+Work</cite>, New Haven, 1916.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Pontormo’s supreme masterpiece of portraiture, The Halberdier, is published
+by myself in <cite>Art in America</cite>, Vol. X, p. 66.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+<p class='c015'><span class='sc'>The High Renaissance.</span> The indispensable books are, for leading ideas,
+J. C. Burckhardt, <cite>Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy</cite>, New York, 1890;
+for the stylistic development in Art, H. Wölfflin, <cite>The Art of the Italian Renaissance</cite>,
+New York, 1913. Very valuable for history and biography are J. Addington
+Symonds’s <cite>The Renaissance in Italy</cite>, 5 Vols., London; and H. O.
+Taylor’s <cite>Thought and Expression in the Sixteenth Century</cite>, New York, 1920.
+For Renaissance ideals of nobility and moderation the capital contemporary
+work is <cite>Il Cortegiano</cite>, by Baldassare Castiglione, translated as <cite>The Courtier</cite>
+by L. E. Opdycke, New York, 1905. For stylistic analysis Berenson’s introductions
+to <cite>Florentine Painters</cite>, and to <cite>Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance</cite>,
+are suggestive and important.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f61'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r61'>61</a>. <cite>Gentile da Fabriano.</cite> A. Colasanti, <cite>Gentile da Fabriano</cite>. Bergamo, 1909.
+Also my Essay review. <cite>The Nation</cite>, Vol. 89 (1909) pp. 168–170.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f62'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r62'>62</a>. <cite>Andrea da Bologna.</cite> <cite>The Nation</cite> (N. Y.) Vol. 95. (1912) p. 392.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f63'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r63'>63</a>. <cite>Fifteenth Century Umbrians.</cite> Walter Rothes, in <cite>Anfänge&#160;... der Alt-Umbrischen
+Malerschulen</cite>, Strassburg, 1908, gives excellent illustrations for
+the Early Umbrian Artists. Also for cuts, U. Gnoli, <cite>La Mostra Umbra</cite>, Bergamo.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f64'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r64'>64</a>. <cite>Melozzo da Forlì.</cite> A. Schmarsow, <cite>Melozzo da Forlì</cite>, Berlin, 1886, and C.
+Ricci, <cite>Melozzo da Forlì</cite>, Rome, 1911, are the standard works.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f65'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r65'>65</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_483'>483</span><cite>Luca Signorelli.</cite> Maud Crutwell, <cite>Luca Signorelli</cite>, London, 1901. See
+Venturi, vii, as usual.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f66'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r66'>66</a>. <cite>Pietro Perugino.</cite> Venturi, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. VII, pt. 2, ch. v, makes Perugino
+the direct pupil of Piero della Francesca, ascribing to Perugino many pictures
+formerly ascribed to Fiorenzo di Lorenzo. The view while attractive is not
+wholly convincing to me. All of Perugino’s works are published in <cite>Klassiker
+der Kunst</cite>, No. XXV, Stuttgart, 1914. The best general estimate of Perugino
+is that of Wölfflin and of Berenson, in <cite>Central Italian Painters</cite>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f67'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r67'>67</a>. The <cite>Cambio</cite> frescoes. While it is inherently likely that Raphael worked
+on these frescoes, Prof. Venturi’s plea for Raphael’s authorship of God, the
+Prophets and Sibyls, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. VII, pt. 2, p. 828 <em>ff.</em> depends largely on the
+shaky evidence of drawings attributed arbitrarily to Raphael.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='sc'>Raphael and Michelangelo.</span> From the point of view of pure style the best
+treatment of these artists and of the High Renaissance is that of Heinrich
+Wölfflin in <cite>The Art of the Italian Renaissance</cite>, New York, 1913. It is a book
+that every student should read and if possible own. Mr. Berenson’s treatment
+of space composition, in the introduction to <cite>Central Italian Painters of the
+Renaissance</cite>, is perhaps his finest achievement in criticism.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f68'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r68'>68</a>. <cite>Raphael.</cite> Hermann Grimm’s two volume <cite>Life of Raphael</cite> is still valuable
+for background. Among the numerous popular books in English none is outstanding.
+Henry Strachey’s <cite>Raphael</cite>, in “Great Masters of Art,” is good, and
+so are Julia Cartwright’s two monographs: <cite>The Early Work of Raphael</cite> and
+<cite>Raphael in Rome</cite>, in the <cite>Portfolio Series</cite>, London, 1895.</p>
+
+<p class='c029'>For Raphael’s participation in the frescoes of the Cambio it seems to me
+that Professor Venturi, in <cite>Storia dell’ Arte Italiana</cite>, Vol. VII, part 2, makes out
+only a plausible case.</p>
+
+<p class='c029'>Reproductions of all of Raphael’s works in <cite>Klassiker der Kunst</cite>, No. I.,
+<cite>Raphael</cite>, Stuttgart and Leipzig.</p>
+
+<p class='c029'>Among the innumerable essays on Raphael none is more understanding
+than John La Farge’s, in <cite>Great Masters</cite>, New York, 1903.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f69'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r69'>69</a>. <cite>Michelangelo.</cite> The best source for the study of Michelangelo, painter,
+is the superb plates in Ernst Steinmann’s <cite>Die Sixtinische Cappelle</cite>, Munich,
+1901. Among recent short biographies that of Charles Holroyd, <cite>Michelangelo</cite>,
+London and New York, 1911 and Romain Rolland (a longer study, <cite>The Life of
+Michelangelo</cite>, New York, 1912; a different and shorter work, <cite>Michelangelo, a
+Study, &#38;c.</cite>, New York, 1915) are perhaps the best. The two volume biographies
+by Hermann Grimm and by J. Addington Symonds are valuable, especially
+for historical background. But the reader may be wise to content himself with
+one of the brief biographies and such contemporary lives as Vasari’s, Ascanio
+Condivi’s, and Francesco d’Olanda’s. The two latter are translated in Holroyd’s
+book. The drawings of Michelangelo are admirably discussed and presented
+in a perfect selection by Mr. Berenson in <cite>The Drawings of the Florentine
+Painters</cite>. The drawings are chronologically arranged and beautifully reproduced
+by Karl Frey, <cite>Die Handzeichnungen Michelangelo’s</cite>, 2 vols., Berlin,
+1911. W. R. Valentiner treats <cite>The Late Years of Michelangelo</cite> (New York,
+1914) with insight, devoting himself chiefly to the more finished drawings.
+For a brief yet comprehensive survey, John La Farge in <cite>Great Masters</cite>, New
+York, 1903. The works are completely reproduced in <cite>Klassiker der Kunst</cite>,
+No. VII. <cite>Michelangelo</cite>, Stuttgart and Leipzig.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_484'>484</span>
+  <h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER VII.—EARLY VENETIAN PAINTING</h3>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f70'>
+<p class='c015'><a href='#r70'>70</a>. Little literature of a general sort is available to the English speaking
+reader. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, <cite>A History of Painting in Northern Italy</cite>,
+admirably edited by Tancred Borenius, in three volumes, London, 1913, is
+the chief repository of facts. Evelyn March Phillipps, <cite>The Venetian School
+of Painting</cite>, London, 1912, is an excellent brief survey. For readers of
+Italian Lionello Venturi’s <cite>Le Origini della Pittura Veneziana</cite>, Venice, 1911,
+is the best book. A treasure house of materials in Laudadeo Testi’s two
+volumes, <cite>La Storia della Pittura Veneziana</cite>, Bergamo. John Ruskin’s masterpiece,
+<cite>Stones of Venice</cite>, may be consulted with profit and delight. There
+are treasures of antiquarian information in Pompeo Molmenti, <cite>La Storia di
+Venezia nella Vita Privata</cite>, 3 vols., Bergamo, 1905.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f71'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r71'>71</a>. <cite>Jacopo Bellini.</cite> The extraordinary and fascinating sketch books are
+published in two forms, by Corrado Ricci, <cite>Jacopo Bellini e i suo libri di designi</cite>,
+2 vols., Florence, 1908, and by V. Goloubew, <cite>Les Dessins de Jacopo Bellini</cite>,
+Bruxelles, 1908.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f72'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r72'>72</a>. G. McNeill Rushforth, <cite>Carlo Crivelli</cite>, London, 1900.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f73'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r73'>73</a>. <cite>Andrea Mantegna.</cite> The standard work is by Paul Kristeller, <cite>Andrea
+Mantegna</cite>, London and New York, 1901. Maud Crutwell’s short biography,
+<cite>Andrea Mantegna</cite>, London, 1901, is excellent. Mr. Berenson’s subtle analysis
+in <cite>North Italian Painters of the Renaissance</cite> perhaps overstresses Andrea’s
+defects. Mantegna’s complete works are reproduced in <cite>Klassiker der Kunst</cite>,
+No. XVI, Stuttgart, 1910.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f74'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r74'>74</a>. <cite>Antonello da Messina.</cite> See L. Venturi, <cite>Le Origini</cite>, and A. Venturi,
+<cite>Storia</cite>, VII, pt. 4. Recent attributions, Bernard Berenson, <cite>Study and Criticism
+of Italian Art</cite>, 3rd Series, London, 1916, p. 79 <em>ff.</em></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f75'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r75'>75</a>. <cite>Giovanni Bellini.</cite> Nothing notable in English except casual criticism by
+Ruskin and Roger E. Fry’s admirable little book, <cite>Giovanni Bellini</cite>, London,
+1899, which is unfortunately out of print. For such as read German—Georg
+Gronau, <cite>Die Künstler-familie Bellini</cite>, Leipzig, 1907, with abundant illustrations.
+Recently discovered pictures and a better chronology, in Bernard Berenson:
+<cite>Venetian Painting in America</cite>, New York, 1916.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f76'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r76'>76</a>. <cite>Vettor Carpaccio.</cite> Ludwig and Molmenti’s <cite>The Life and Works of Victor
+Carpaccio</cite>, London, 1907, gives, aside from its main topic, a vivid picture
+of the cultural condition of Venice about 1500. See my essay review of it in
+<cite>The Nation</cite>, Vol. 86, (1908) pp. 315 <em>ff.</em> John Ruskin’s delightful comments
+on Carpaccio are mostly in the <cite>Guide to the Academy</cite> at Venice and in <cite>St. Mark’s
+Rest</cite>, chapter <cite>The Shrine of the Slaves</cite>, Library ed. Vol. XXIV.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f77'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r77'>77</a>. <cite>Giorgione.</cite> For the smallest list L. Venturi, <cite>Giorgione e il Giorgionismo</cite>,
+Milan, 1913; for the longest list Herbert Cook, <cite>Giorgione</cite>; for a middle view
+L. Justi, <cite>Giorgione</cite>, 2 vols., Berlin, 1908, most useful plates.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The general conditions of the problem are clearly stated by the late Richard
+Norton in <cite>Bernini and other Studies</cite>, New York, 1914. L. Hourticq, in <cite>La Jeunesse
+de Titien</cite>, Paris, 1919, has lately worked over the pictures which lie between
+Titian and Giorgione in an interesting but highly subjective fashion. Kenyon
+Cox, <cite>Art in America</cite>, Vol. I, pp. 115 <em>ff.</em>, makes the plausible suggestion that
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_485'>485</span>the several portraits signed V or VV are by Titian, the letters meaning
+Vecellius Venetus. This would make the Berlin portrait a Titian.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Walter Pater’s essay on <cite>The School of Giorgione</cite>, in <cite>The Renaissance</cite> is as
+masterly for insight as it is for verbal beauty.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>I hesitate to add one more to the varying opinions concerning
+Giorgione’s paintings. At least I may introduce a novelty by classing them according
+to probability, or rather according to the completeness of my own
+conviction. In the whole matter we are largely in the field of taste and opinion.
+E means early.</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><em>Paintings, m. j. surely by Giorgione</em></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>1. The Shepherds finding the Infant Paris (repainted fragment, E)   Budapest</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>2. “The Soldier and the Gipsy” E.   Prince Giovanelli</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>3. Madonna with St. Francis and St. George (1504)   Castelfranco</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>4. The Three Philosophers (finished by Sebastiano del Piombo)   Vienna</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>5. Orpheus and Eurydice (<em>cassone</em> panel)   Bergamo</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>6. The Sleeping Venus (landscape by Titian)   Dresden</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>7. Fresco of Nude Woman, nearly effaced (1508), represented by Zanetti’s
+print   Fondaco de’ Tedeschi</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>8. Judith (cut down at sides)   Petrograd</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>9. His own Portrait (much cut down and damaged)   Brunswick</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>10. Christ with his Cross   Church of S. Rocco</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>11. The Concert (finished by Titian? or repainted in his manner?)   Florence</p>
+
+<p class='c006'><cite>Paintings probably by Giorgione.</cite> I accept these, but do not think the evidence
+demonstrative.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>12–13. Stories of the Infant Paris (two <em>cassone</em> panels, E.)   Sir Martin
+Conway, Allington Castle, Maidstone, England</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>14. The Fire Ordeal of Moses (door panel, E.)   Florence</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>15. The Judgment of Solomon (door panel, E.)   Florence</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>16. Christ bearing his Cross, E.   Fenway Court, Boston.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>17. Homage to a Poet, E.   London</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>18. Portrait of a Young Man (possibly an early Titian)   Berlin</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>19. Boy With an Arrow (old copy?)   Vienna</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>20. Shepherd with a Flute   Hampton Court</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>21. David with Goliath’s Head (copy? or ruined original?)   Vienna</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>22. Altar-piece of St. John Chrysostom (mostly executed by Sebastiano del
+Piombo)   S. Giovanni Crisostomo</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>23. The Pastoral Symphony (radically repainted in recent times.)   Paris</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>24. Portrait of a Man   New York</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>This list might still be extended by half a dozen numbers by including
+pictures which may represent lost originals by Giorgione, but here we are in
+a field too subjective for profitable discussion in a handbook.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>Pictures generally ascribed to Giorgione, I think erroneously.</cite></p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The Knight of Malta (probably a Titian about 1515)   Florence</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Portrait of Broccardo   Budapest</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Storm Calmed by St. Mark (probably a Palma)   Venice</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_486'>486</span>Judgment of Solomon (Hourticq plausibly regards as copy of lost fresco by
+Titian)   Banks Coll., Kingston Lacy</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Madonna with St. Antony and St. Roch (probably a Titian)   Madrid</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Portrait of a Woman   Casino Borghese, Rome</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The reason for excluding such works is their over-pathetic or over-dramatic
+quality. The argument applies especially to the Adulteress before Christ at
+Glasgow. Corroborative technical evidence against this group may be found
+in L. Venturi’s excellent monograph.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER VIII.—TITIAN AND THE VENETIAN RENAISSANCE</h3>
+
+<p class='c015'>On the Venetian Renaissance in general we have the works cited at the head
+of Notes for Chapter VII and for biographies and lists D. V. Hadeln, new
+ed. Ridolfi, <cite>Le Maraviglie dell’ Arte</cite>, Berlin, 1914. A brief survey by the late
+Kenyon Cox, in <cite>Concerning Painting</cite>, New York, 1917, pp. 98–132, is valuable.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f78'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r78'>78</a>. <cite>Titian.</cite> Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s <cite>The Life and Times of Titian</cite>, in 2 vols.,
+London, 1881, is still the fullest repository of information. Georg Gronau’s
+popular but carefully done <cite>Titian</cite>, London and New York, 1904, takes account
+of later documentary discoveries. As a painter’s analysis of technical aims
+Charles Rickett’s <cite>Titian</cite>, London, 1910, is noteworthy. Nearly all of Titian’s
+works are published in <cite>Klassiker der Kunst</cite>, No. III, Stuttgart, 1906. Several
+newly discovered pictures are reproduced in the recent volumes, 1918–22, of
+the <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite>, <cite>Art in America</cite>, and <cite>Zeitschrift für bildende Kunst</cite>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f79'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r79'>79</a>. <cite>Titian’s Age.</cite> All the available material on this disputed matter is
+offered by Mr. Herbert Cook and Dr. George Gronau in a controversy printed
+as appendices to Cook’s <cite>Giorgione</cite>, London, 1907. The early evidence is very
+conflicting.</p>
+
+<table class='table1'>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c025'>Writing</td>
+    <td class='c025'>in</td>
+    <td class='c030'>1557</td>
+    <td class='c009'>Dolce implies</td>
+    <td class='c025'>Titian</td>
+    <td class='c025'>was</td>
+    <td class='c025'>born</td>
+    <td class='c025'>about</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1489</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c030'>1566–7</td>
+    <td class='c009'>Vasari</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1489</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c030'>1564</td>
+    <td class='c009'>A Spanish Envoy</td>
+    <td class='c025'>&#160;</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1474</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c030'>1567</td>
+    <td class='c009'>A Spanish Consul</td>
+    <td class='c025'>&#160;</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1482</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c030'>1571</td>
+    <td class='c009'>Titian himself</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1477</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c030'>1584</td>
+    <td class='c009'>Borghini</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c025'>„</td>
+    <td class='c026'>1478–9</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c007'>Writing in 1545 and 1548 Titian refers to his old age and disabilities (Cook,
+p. 141 note), expressions more natural if he was sixty-eight and seventy-one
+than they would be if he were only fifty-six and fifty-nine.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Mr. Cook’s theory that Titian and his Spanish official friends grossly exaggerated
+his age to secure prompter remittances from the Emperor seems to
+me gratuitous and flimsy. Dr. Gronau convinces me that neither Dolce nor
+Vasari can be regarded as serious witnesses. L. Hourticq in <cite>La Jeunesse de
+Titien</cite>, Paris, 1919, adds next to nothing to Cook in maintaining the later
+date for Titian’s birth.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The whole weight of evidence points to the fact that Titian told the broad
+truth about his age, perhaps, indulging in a round number. I am sure he was
+well over ninety when he described himself as ninety-five in the letter of 1571,
+and that he died all but a centenarian.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f80'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r80'>80</a>. <span class='pageno' id='Page_487'>487</span>Pietro d’Achiardi, <cite>Sebastiano de Piombo</cite>, Roma, 1908.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f81'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r81'>81</a>. Max von Boehn, <cite>Giorgione und Palma Vecchio</cite>, Leipzig, 1908.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f82'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r82'>82</a>. Bernard Berenson, <cite>Lorenzo Lotto</cite>, London, 1905. Comprises also careful
+studies of Alvise Vivarini, Cima, Montagna and other Venetic painters. In
+<cite>The Study and Criticism of Italian Art</cite>, 3rd series, London, 1916, the superb
+Saint Justine of the Valsecchi Collection is rightly restored to Giovanni Bellini,
+l.c. p. 38 <em>ff.</em></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f83'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r83'>83</a>. <cite>Correggio.</cite> The standard work, C. Ricci, <cite>Antonio Allegri da Coreggio</cite>,
+New York, 1896. A delightful critical study, T. Sturge Moore, <cite>Correggio</cite>,
+London and New York, 1906. The complete works in <cite>Klassiker der Kunst</cite>,
+No. XVII, Stuttgart.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A new and convincing view of Correggio’s date of birth and early development
+in Venturi, <cite>Storia</cite>, Vol. VII, pt. iii, pp. 1152 <em>ff.</em></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f84'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r84'>84</a>. Evelyn March Phillipps, <cite>Tintoretto</cite>, London, 1911. Many of the extraordinary
+tempera sketches are reproduced in the <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite> for January
+and February, 1910. H. Thode, <cite>Tintoretto</cite>, Leipzig, 1901.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Many eloquent criticisms by Ruskin in <cite>Modern Painters</cite> and <cite>Stones of Venice</cite>
+(see indices) and in the <cite>Guide to the Academy at Venice</cite>, Library ed. Vol. XXIV.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f85'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r85'>85</a>. <cite>Paolo Veronese.</cite> See Kenyon Cox’s masterly essay in <cite>Old Masters and
+New</cite>, New York.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f86'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r86'>86</a>. <cite>G. B. Tiepolo.</cite> The standard work is by Pompeo Molmenti. <cite>G. B.
+Tiepolo</cite>, Milan, 1909.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f87'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r87'>87</a>. G. A. Simonson. <cite>Francesco Guardi</cite>, London, 1905. Numerous additions
+by the same author in the <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite> for succeeding years.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c013'>CHAPTER IX.—THE REALISTS AND ECLECTICS</h3>
+
+<p class='c015'>On this period there is little available literature in English, but there are excellent
+sketches of most of the artists treated in this chapter in C. Ricci, <cite>Art
+in Northern Italy</cite>, New York, 1911.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A. Pératé in A. Michel, <cite>Histoire de l’Art</cite>, Vol. Vª, gives a fuller summary.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f88'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r88'>88</a>. <cite>Caravaggio.</cite> W. Kallab, Austrian <cite>Jahrbuch</cite>, Vol. XXVI (1906), p. 272 <em>ff.</em>,
+brief illustrated essay. Felix Witting, <cite>Michelangelo da Caravaggio</cite>, Strassburg,
+1916.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f89'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r89'>89</a>. <cite>Salvator Rosa.</cite> Lady Morgan, <cite>The Life and Times of Salvator Rosa</cite>,
+in two vols., Paris, 1824. Leandro Ozzola, <cite>Vita e opere di Salvator Rosa</cite>,
+Strassburg, 1908.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The passages translated in the text are from Bottari, <cite>Raccolta di lettere sulla
+Pittura</cite> &#38;c., Vol. I, pp. 447, 450 <em>f.</em>, Milan, 1822.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f90'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r90'>90</a>. <cite>The Carracci.</cite> The fundamental source is Carlo Cesare Malvasia’s
+highly contentious and anecdotal work <cite>Felsina Pittrice</cite>; I have used the two volume
+edition, Milan, 1841.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Gabriel Rouchès, <cite>La Peinture Bolonaise à la Fin du XVI<sup>e</sup> Siècle</cite>, Paris, 1913,
+is the standard work on the Eclectic School. On the landscape of this school,
+which is highly important as preparatory to Claude and Poussin, Rouchès
+has two remarkable essays in <cite>Gazette des Beaux Arts</cite>, 5<sup>e</sup> période Tome, III.
+(Jan. and Feb. nos. 1921) pp. 7 <em>ff.</em>, and 119 <em>ff.</em></p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Hans Tietze, in Austrian <cite>Jahrbuch</cite>, Vol. XXVI (1906) p. 51 <em>ff.</em>, <cite>Annibale
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_488'>488</span>Carracci’s Galerie im Palazzo Farnese und seine Römische Werkstätte</cite>—a very
+thorough and richly illustrated monograph on the Carracci, including such
+scholars as Francesco Albani, and Domenichino.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f91'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r91'>91</a>. <cite>Guido Reni.</cite> Max von Boehn, <cite>Guido Reni</cite>, Leipzig, 1910, fully illustrated.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f92'>
+<p class='c007'><a href='#r92'>92</a>. <cite>Domenichino.</cite> Luigi Serra, <cite>Domenico Zampieri detto Domenichino</cite>,
+Rome, 1909. Also Tietze’s article, above, note 3.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_489'>489</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'>HINTS FOR READING</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c006'><span class='sc'>Comprehensive Histories of Italian Painting.</span> For English speaking
+readers the greatest resource for reference is Crowe and Cavalcaselle, <cite>A New
+History of Painting in Italy</cite>, which covers the Central Italian field up to about
+1500. I prefer the three volume edition by Edward Hutton, published by J. M.
+Dent and Co., London; and E. P. Dutton, New York, (1908–9) to the fuller
+six-volume edition annotated by Langton Douglas and published conjointly
+by the Murrays of London and the Scribners of New York. For the North
+Italian field Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s <cite>History of Painting in Northern Italy</cite>,
+re-edited in three volumes by Tancred Borenius, John Murray-Charles
+Scribner’s Sons, 1912, is indispensable. Both works are ordinarily cited as
+“C. &#38; C.” The Italian articles in A. Michel’s <cite>Histoire de l’Art</cite>, Paris, are excellent.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='sc'>Manuals.</span> Bernard Berenson’s four Handbooks, <cite>Venetian Painters of the
+Renaissance</cite>, <cite>Florentine Painters of the Renaissance</cite>, <cite>Central Italian Painters of
+the Renaissance</cite>, and <cite>Northern Italian Painters of the Renaissance</cite>, New York and
+London, G. P. Putnam and Sons, are uniquely useful. Each contains a thorough
+critical discussion and lists of the works of the more important painters. The
+latest editions should be used.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>A Short History of Italian Painting</cite>, by Alice van Vechten Brown and William
+Rankin, Dent-Dutton, 1914, offers brilliant, if uneven, characterizations and
+able summaries of contested points.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='sc'>Technique.</span> Consult the delightful <cite>The Book of Art by Cennino Cennini</cite>,
+edited by Christiana J. Herringham, London: George Allen, 1922, for methods
+of painting in tempera and fresco.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='sc'>Biography.</span> Giorgio Vasari’s picturesque <cite>Lives of the Painters</cite> may most
+profitably be read in the translation of Gaston DuC. de Vere, in ten volumes,
+London: Philip Lee Warner; New York: The Macmillan Company. There
+are many color-prints. The matter is available inexpensively in the handy
+“Everyman’s Library.” Mrs. Ady, “Julia Cartwright,” has epitomized the
+chief lives agreeably, with necessary corrections, in <cite>The Painters of Florence</cite>,
+E. P. Dutton and Company, 1916.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='sc'>Periodicals.</span> The reader may most profitably cultivate the habit of paging
+over the files of <cite>The Burlington Magazine</cite> and <cite>Art in America</cite>, <cite>Rassegna d’Arte</cite>
+and <cite>L’Arte</cite>, which contain good reproductions of many fine Italian pictures in
+private collections.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='sc'>Historical Background.</span> Excellent the many Italian Chapters in Henry
+Osborn Taylor’s <cite>The Mediaeval Mind</cite>, in two volumes, The Macmillan Company,
+1911. For Florentine conditions consult Guido Biagi, <cite>Men and Manners
+of Old Florence</cite>, Chicago, A. C. McClurg and Company, 1909, and <cite>The
+Builders of Florence</cite>, by J. Wood Brown, London, Methuen and Company, 1907.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_490'>490</span><span class='sc'>Photographs</span>, etc. The ideal way to use a handbook would be to skim it
+before visiting a great European gallery and to reread it carefully while the
+impression of the pictures themselves was still vivid. But the student must
+also depend much on photographic reproductions. For Italy those of Messrs.
+Alinari at Florence and of Dominick Anderson at Rome are comprehensive,
+finely made, and remarkably cheap. Alinari has most of the Italian paintings
+of the Louvre and Dresden Gallery; Anderson, those of the Prado, Madrid,
+and National Gallery, London. The collections of Hanfstaengl and of Bruckmann,
+Munich, cover most of the galleries of Northern and Central Europe.
+Photographs of the Italian pictures in the Metropolitan Museum, New York;
+the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; the Fogg Museum, Cambridge, Mass., and
+the Jarves Collection, Yale University, New Haven, Conn., may be purchased
+from those museums. Besides these four main collections of Italian pictures
+in America, that of the New York Historical Society, New York, and of Mrs.
+John L. Gardner, Fenway Court, Boston, occasionally open to the public, are
+noteworthy. The art museums of Worcester, Mass., Providence, R. I., Cleveland,
+O., Indianapolis, Detroit, Chicago and Minneapolis have Italian pictures
+of quality. There is something in the Wilstach Gallery, Philadelphia, and
+whenever the John G. Johnson Collection shall be worthily exhibited, Philadelphia
+will be rich indeed in Italian art. The student should not fail to utilize
+such local resources, however slight they may seem, for one minor original
+thoroughly enjoyed is worth days of poring over reproductions.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>For students who cannot afford a considerable number of photographs the
+<em>University Prints</em>, Newton, Mass., afford a tolerable substitute. For quick
+reference the numerous cuts in Venturi’s monumental <cite>Storia dell’ Arte Italiana</cite>,
+Milan, Ulrico Hoepli, are very useful. The halftones in the “Künstler Monografien,”
+Leipzig, Velhagen and Klasing, and the larger prints in the “Klassiker
+der Kunst,” Stuttgart and Leipzig, serve a similar purpose. Details may be
+had from any importing bookseller.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_491'>491</span>
+  <h2 class='c005'>INDEX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c006'>Where an artist has a family name, that is the indexed word, e.g., Bellini,
+Giovanni. Where there is no surname, the Christian name is used, e.g., Nardo
+di Cione, Andrea da Bologna. So is the Christian name the index word when
+an apparent surname is really only descriptive of birthplace or civil estate,
+e.g., Domenico Veneziano, Lorenzo Monaco. In the case of well-known artists,
+the most familiar name is employed, e.g., Angelico, Fra; Giorgione, Titian,
+Perugino, Raphael, Andrea del Sarto, Pontormo, Botticelli, Michelangelo, etc.</p>
+
+<ul class='index'>
+  <li class='c031'>Academic, light and shade, Leonardo, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>theory of generalization, Sir Joshua Reynolds, <a href='#Page_318'>318</a>;</li>
+      <li>of selection and Belle Nature, Leonardo, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>;</li>
+      <li>L. Dolce, <a href='#Page_445'>445</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Altar, as shrine and tomb, influence on subjects of painting, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Alunno (Niccolò Liberatore), <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Andrea da Bologna, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Andrea del Castagno, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>–147, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Andrea del Sarto, <a href='#Page_248'>248</a>–253</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Angelico of Fiesole, Fra, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>–122, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Antonello da Messina, <a href='#Page_345'>345</a>–348, <a href='#Page_355'>355</a>, <a href='#Page_360'>360</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Antonio da Negroponte, <a href='#Page_335'>335</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Ariosto, list of greatest painters, <a href='#Page_385'>385</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Baldovinetti, Alesso, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>an official appraisal of his frescoes, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Barna of Siena, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bartolo di Fredi, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Baroque decorative painting, derives from Mantegna, <a href='#Page_337'>337</a>, <a href='#Page_340'>340</a>–341;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Correggio, <a href='#Page_340'>340</a>, <a href='#Page_415'>415</a>–416;</li>
+      <li>Tiepolo, <a href='#Page_442'>442</a>;</li>
+      <li>Influence of Catholic Reaction on mood of, <a href='#Page_459'>459</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bartolommeo, Fra (Baccio della Porta), <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>–248, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>, <a href='#Page_290'>290</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bartolommeo della Gatta, Don, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bellini, Gentile, <a href='#Page_348'>348</a>–352, <a href='#Page_364'>364</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bellini, Giovanni, <a href='#Page_324'>324</a>, <a href='#Page_352'>352</a>–362, <a href='#Page_369'>369</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bellini, Jacopo, <a href='#Page_330'>330</a>–333, <a href='#Page_334'>334</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bembo, Pietro, <a href='#Page_373'>373</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Benvenuto di Giovanni, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Birth salvers (deschi da parto), <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bologna School and Eclecticism, <i><span lang="la">passim</span></i>, <a href='#Page_458'>458</a>–465, <a href='#Page_471'>471</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bonfigli, Benedetto, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Botticelli, Sandro (Alessandro di Mariano Filipepi), <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_175'>175</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>–220, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Brancacci Chapel, problem of the frescoes, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>–141</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Byzantine manner, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>–12;
+    <ul>
+      <li>in Venetia, <a href='#Page_324'>324</a>, <a href='#Page_326'>326</a>, <a href='#Page_327'>327</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bartolommeo di Giovanni, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bassano, Jacopo and Leandro, <a href='#Page_424'>424</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bonauiti, Andrea, decorator of the Spanish Chapel, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>–53</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Bronzino, Agnolo, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Brunellesco, investigator of perspective, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Canale, Antonio, <a href='#Page_442'>442</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Caravaggio (Michelangelo Amerighi), <a href='#Page_453'>453</a>–456, <a href='#Page_470'>470</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Carpaccio, Victor, <a href='#Page_364'>364</a>–370</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Carracci, their academy at Bologna, <a href='#Page_461'>461</a>.;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Carlo Malvasia on the Eclecticism of the C., <a href='#Page_471'>471</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'><span class='pageno' id='Page_492'>492</span>Carracci, Annibale, <a href='#Page_453'>453</a>, <a href='#Page_459'>459</a>–465;
+    <ul>
+      <li>sonnet ascribed to, <a href='#Page_471'>471</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Cassone painters, before 1450, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>–130;
+    <ul>
+      <li>after 1450, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>–183</li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Castiglione, Baldassare, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a>, <a href='#Page_298'>298</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>list of greatest artists, <a href='#Page_315'>315</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Cavallini, Pietro, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>–18</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Cimabue, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_14'>14</a>–15, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Classic Spirit, Kenyon Cox on, <a href='#Page_319'>319</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Correggio (Antonio Allegri), <a href='#Page_340'>340</a>, <a href='#Page_415'>415</a>–417;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Initiator of the Baroque Manner, <a href='#Page_416'>416</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Cox, Kenyon, on the Classic Spirit, <a href='#Page_319'>319</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Crivelli, Carlo, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>, <a href='#Page_334'>334</a>–335</li>
+  <li class='c002'>Dante, <a href='#Page_3'>3</a>, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Giotto’s portrait of, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>;</li>
+      <li>Botticelli’s drawings for, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Domenico di Bartolo, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Domenico Veneziano, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>–148, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Domenichino (Domenico Zampieri), <a href='#Page_465'>465</a>, <a href='#Page_467'>467</a>–469</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Donatello, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_333'>333</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Duccio di Buoninsegna, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>–72;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Procession on installation of his great Madonna, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c002'>Florence, about 1300 described, <a href='#Page_2'>2</a>–4, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>the new looser manners after the plague of 1348, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>;</li>
+      <li>Renaissance pageantry in, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>–196;</li>
+      <li>Savonarola’s revolution, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_302'>302</a>;</li>
+      <li>End of liberty in and demoralization, <a href='#Page_320'>320</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Folgore da San Gemignano, Sienese sonnet quoted, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Francesco di Giorgio, <a href='#Page_100'>100</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Francis of Assisi, St., initiator of the new emotionalism in painting, <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Fresco, method of painting in, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Gaddi, Agnolo, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Gaddi, Gaddo, possibly to be identified with the “Isaac Master,” <a href='#Page_18'>18</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Gaddi, Taddeo, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Gentile da Fabriano, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>–270, <a href='#Page_328'>328</a>, <a href='#Page_330'>330</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Ghiberti, Lorenzo, Sienese anecdote by, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>his studies, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Ghirlandaio (Domenico Bigordi), <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>–194</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Giorgione, <a href='#Page_370'>370</a>–383;
+    <ul>
+      <li>problem of, <a href='#Page_370'>370</a>;</li>
+      <li>early works, <a href='#Page_371'>371</a>, <a href='#Page_372'>372</a>;</li>
+      <li>his Arcadianism related to pastoral poetry, <a href='#Page_373'>373</a>–374;</li>
+      <li>his dreamy and indeterminate mood, <a href='#Page_374'>374</a>–377;</li>
+      <li>Castelfranco Madonna, and other later works, <a href='#Page_378'>378</a>–380;</li>
+      <li>pastoral symphony, <a href='#Page_380'>380</a>–382;</li>
+      <li>The Concert, its problems, <a href='#Page_381'>381</a>–382;</li>
+      <li>Summary, <a href='#Page_383'>383</a>;</li>
+      <li>Suggestion of G’s subjects in Leonardo’s “Trattato,” <a href='#Page_385'>385</a>–386</li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Giottino, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Giotto’s pupils, “Master of the Right Transept,” <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>–45;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Taddeo Gaddi, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>;</li>
+      <li>Buffalmacco, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>;</li>
+      <li>Bernardo Daddi, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>;</li>
+      <li>Giottino, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Giotto di Bondone, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>early work at Assisi, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>–22;</li>
+      <li>at Rome, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>;</li>
+      <li>at Padua, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>–29;</li>
+      <li>later work, the Allegories at Assisi, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>–34;</li>
+      <li>at Santa Croce, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>–39;</li>
+      <li>The Campanile and last phase, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>;</li>
+      <li>general characterization, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>;</li>
+      <li>poem by, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>;</li>
+      <li>mentioned, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Giovanni di Paolo, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>–95</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Girolamo di Benvenuto, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Giulio Romano, <a href='#Page_294'>294</a>, <a href='#Page_297'>297</a>, <a href='#Page_452'>452</a>–453</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Gozzoli, Benozzo, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>–166, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Grand style defined, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>–266;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Sir Joshua Reynolds on, <a href='#Page_318'>318</a>–319;</li>
+      <li>L. Dolce on, in Titian, <a href='#Page_445'>445</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Guariento of Padua, <a href='#Page_324'>324</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Goya, Francisco, quoted, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'><span class='pageno' id='Page_493'>493</span>Guardi, Francesco, <a href='#Page_443'>443</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Guido of Siena, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>“Isaac Master,” perhaps Gaddo Gaddi, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua, relations with Mantegna, <a href='#Page_343'>343</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Opinion of him, <a href='#Page_384'>384</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c002'>Landscape, new sense of the picturesque in, and Salvator Rosa, <a href='#Page_456'>456</a>–457</li>
+  <li class='c031'>LeBrun, Charles, dependence as decorator on A. Carracci, <a href='#Page_465'>465</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Leonardo da Vinci, <a href='#Page_1'>1</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>on Masaccio, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>–235, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>;</li>
+      <li>His new principles, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>;</li>
+      <li>Early Florentine period, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>–237;</li>
+      <li>Adoration of the Magi, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>–236;</li>
+      <li>Madonna of the Rocks, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>;</li>
+      <li>First Milanese period, <a href='#Page_238'>238</a>–240;</li>
+      <li>Last Supper, <a href='#Page_239'>239</a>–240;</li>
+      <li>Second Florentine Period; Mona Lisa, Anghiari, <a href='#Page_239'>239</a>–241;</li>
+      <li>Second Milanese Period; St. Ann, Second Madonna of the Rocks, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>–244;</li>
+      <li>Roma and France, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>–245;</li>
+      <li>His Influence, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>–246;</li>
+      <li>Tractate on Painting, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>–260, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a>, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a>, <a href='#Page_290'>290</a>, <a href='#Page_292'>292</a>, <a href='#Page_300'>300</a>, <a href='#Page_371'>371</a>, <a href='#Page_383'>383</a>, <a href='#Page_385'>385</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lomazzo, Paolo, Great Italian painters compared with the poets, <a href='#Page_385'>385</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Longhi, Pietro, <a href='#Page_444'>444</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzetti, Ambrogio, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>–45, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzetti, Pietro, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>–78;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Followers of, at Assisi, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>;</li>
+      <li>Contract for Arezzo altar-piece, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>–106</li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzetti followers, Triumph of Death, Pisa, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzettian, panoramic style, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lotto, Lorenzo, <a href='#Page_411'>411</a>–413</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzo de’ Medici, his birth salver, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>–184</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzo Monaco, Don, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzo da San Severino, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Lorenzo Veneziano, <a href='#Page_326'>326</a>, <a href='#Page_327'>327</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Mantegna, Andrea, <a href='#Page_333'>333</a>, <a href='#Page_337'>337</a>–345, <a href='#Page_348'>348</a>, <a href='#Page_352'>352</a>, <a href='#Page_355'>355</a>, <a href='#Page_356'>356</a>.;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Titian on, <a href='#Page_324'>324</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Marcovaldo, Coppo di, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Masaccio (Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Tommaso Guidi), <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>–142, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Masolino da Panicale, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>–127</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Matteo di Giovanni, of Siena, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>–99</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Melozzo da Forlì, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>–274</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Michelangelo Buonarotti, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>perturbing influence on Raphael, <a href='#Page_288'>288</a>, <a href='#Page_294'>294</a>, <a href='#Page_295'>295</a>;</li>
+      <li>Early works;
+        <ul>
+          <li>Doni Madonna, The Bathers, <a href='#Page_301'>301</a>–303;</li>
+          <li>The Sistine Ceiling, <a href='#Page_304'>304</a>–313;</li>
+          <li>The Last Judgment, <a href='#Page_313'>313</a>–314;</li>
+        </ul>
+      </li>
+      <li>Defects of his followers, <a href='#Page_315'>315</a>;</li>
+      <li>Advice on posture, <a href='#Page_317'>317</a>,</li>
+      <li>on the unity of painting and sculpture, <a href='#Page_317'>317</a>, <a href='#Page_318'>318</a>, <a href='#Page_407'>407</a>, <a href='#Page_429'>429</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Michelozzo, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Modern sensibility, in Pontormo, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Moretto, Lotto, Correggio, Tintoretto, <a href='#Page_411'>411</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Moretto of Brescia, <a href='#Page_412'>412</a>–413</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Moroni, Giambattista, <a href='#Page_423'>423</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Nardo di Cione, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Neroccio di Landi, <a href='#Page_100'>100</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Oil Painting, introduced at Florence by Domenico Veneziano, <a href='#Page_147'>147</a>,;
+    <ul>
+      <li>practiced in Lombardy by Antonello da Messina, <a href='#Page_345'>345</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Orcagna (Andrea di Cione), <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>–50;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Contract for Strozzi altar-piece, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Ottaviano Nelli, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Palma Giovine, on Titian’s technique, <a href='#Page_390'>390</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Palma Vecchio, <a href='#Page_407'>407</a>, <a href='#Page_411'>411</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Paolo Veronese (Caliari), <a href='#Page_436'>436</a>–440</li>
+  <li class='c031'><span class='pageno' id='Page_494'>494</span>Pastoral poetry as background of Giorgione’s inventions, <a href='#Page_370'>370</a>–374</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Perspective, discovery by Brunellesco, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>,;
+    <ul>
+      <li>Uccello’s experiments in, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>;</li>
+      <li>Piero della Francesca’s book on, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>;</li>
+      <li>Mantegna’s illusionistic, <a href='#Page_337'>337</a>, <a href='#Page_339'>339</a>–340;</li>
+      <li>further developed by Correggio, <a href='#Page_340'>340</a>, <a href='#Page_415'>415</a>–416</li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Perugino (Pietro Vannucci), <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>–280, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>, <a href='#Page_288'>288</a>, <a href='#Page_297'>297</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a>–282, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>, <a href='#Page_290'>290</a>, <a href='#Page_299'>299</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Pesellino, Francesco, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Piero della Francesca, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>–172, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Pollaiuolo, Antonio, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>–169, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Piero di Cosimo, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>–223, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Pintorricchio, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Pisanello (Antonio Pisano), <a href='#Page_328'>328</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Plague banners, Umbrian, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>, <a href='#Page_313'>313</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Poliziano, Angelo, his poetry as an inspiration for Botticelli, Raphael, Titian, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>–256</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Pontormo (Jacopo Carrucci), <a href='#Page_253'>253</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Poussin, Nicholas, derives from Raphael and the Eclectics, <a href='#Page_458'>458</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Raphael Sanzio, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>His Umbrian beginnings, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>–283.</li>
+      <li>At Florence, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>–288.</li>
+      <li>At Rome, The Segnatura, <a href='#Page_289'>289</a>–293;</li>
+      <li>Stanze of Heliodorus and of the Incendio, <a href='#Page_294'>294</a>–296.</li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Realists, Early Florentine, enumerated, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Reni, Guido, <a href='#Page_465'>465</a>–466</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Reynolds, Sir Joshua, on the Grand style, <a href='#Page_318'>318</a>–319</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Rodin, Auguste, on Michelangelo, <a href='#Page_313'>313</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Roman revival before 1300, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Rosa, Salvator, <a href='#Page_456'>456</a>–457</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Rosselli, Cosimo, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Rubens, Peter Paul,
+    <ul>
+      <li>his praise of Leonardo, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>,</li>
+      <li>derives from Titian, <a href='#Page_468'>468</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c002'>Sannazaro, Jacopo, <a href='#Page_373'>373</a>, <a href='#Page_374'>374</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Sassetta (Stefano di Giovanni), <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>–92</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Sebastiano del Piombo, <a href='#Page_295'>295</a>, <a href='#Page_408'>408</a>–409</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Signorelli, Luca, <a href='#Page_176'>176</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>–278</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Sistine Chapel, early frescoes analyzed, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>–179</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Savonarola, Fra Girolamo, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>, <a href='#Page_302'>302</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>St. Dominic, <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Siena, the Sienese temperament illustrated, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>–61;
+    <ul>
+      <li>its artistic conservation, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Simone Martini, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>–76, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Sodoma (Antonio Bazzi), <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_471'>471</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Squarcione, Francesco, School of, <a href='#Page_334'>334</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Starnina, Gherardo, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Tempera, painting in, <a href='#Page_5'>5</a>, <a href='#Page_6'>6</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista, <a href='#Page_440'>440</a>–442, <a href='#Page_444'>444</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Tintoretto (Jacopo Robusti), <a href='#Page_424'>424</a>–435</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Titian of Cadore (Tiziano Vecellio), <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_389'>389</a>–408, <a href='#Page_418'>418</a>–423.
+    <ul>
+      <li>His calculating character and technique, <a href='#Page_389'>389</a>–390;</li>
+      <li>his four periods, <a href='#Page_390'>390</a>–391;</li>
+      <li>Early, Giorgionesque period, <a href='#Page_392'>392</a>–398;</li>
+      <li>(1515–1533), <a href='#Page_396'>396</a>–404;</li>
+      <li>(1533–1548), <a href='#Page_404'>404</a>–407;</li>
+      <li>(1548–1577), subjective and impressionistic phase, <a href='#Page_418'>418</a>–423.</li>
+      <li>Lodovico Dolce on T’s impressionism in landscape, <a href='#Page_446'>446</a>;</li>
+      <li>G. F. Watt on T’s classical quality, <a href='#Page_446'>446</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Tommé, Luca, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Torriti (Jacopo), <a href='#Page_12'>12</a></li>
+  <li class='c002'>Uccello, Paolo, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>–144, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_334'>334</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Umbria,
+    <ul>
+      <li>its characteristics, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a>–267;</li>
+      <li>foreign painters in, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a></li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c002'><span class='pageno' id='Page_495'>495</span>Vasari, Giorgio, on Masaccio, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>;
+    <ul>
+      <li>on Paolo Uccello, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>;</li>
+      <li>on a Trick to get a chapel, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>–197;</li>
+      <li>on the “Modern style,” <a href='#Page_316'>316</a>, <a href='#Page_317'>317</a>;</li>
+      <li>boasts of his own dexterity, <a href='#Page_451'>451</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+  </li>
+  <li class='c031'>Velasquez, draws from Caravaggio and the Italian Tenebrists, <a href='#Page_456'>456</a>, <a href='#Page_470'>470</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Venice, its colorful aspect, and nature of its civilization, <a href='#Page_323'>323</a>–326</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Veronese, see Paolo Veronese</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Veronese, early panoramic manner, <a href='#Page_328'>328</a>–330, <a href='#Page_331'>331</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Verrocchio, Andrea, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>, <a href='#Page_227'>227</a>–230</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Villani, Giovanni, summary of Florence, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>–56</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Villani, Matteo, on the relaxation of Florentine morals after the plague of 1348, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>–111</li>
+  <li class='c031'>Vivarini, Antonio, <a href='#Page_330'>330</a>, <a href='#Page_363'>363</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Vivarini, Bartolommeo, <a href='#Page_362'>362</a>, <a href='#Page_363'>363</a></li>
+  <li class='c031'>Vivarini, Alvise, <a href='#Page_363'>363</a></li>
+</ul>
+<div class='pbb'>
+ <hr class='pb c004'>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>Books on Italians or on Rome</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>CROCE’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>ARIOSTO, SHAKESPEARE AND CORNEILLE</cite>        $2.50</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>J. E. Spingarn</cite>: “I regard this book as the most important body
+of criticism that has ever been translated into English from a
+modern tongue.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>THE POETRY OF DANTE</cite>                       $2.00</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>Keith Preston, in Chicago News</cite>: “His design is to scrape off
+the barnacles from his poet and present the essential poetry—free
+from historical philosophical and allegorical incumbrances&#160;... at the same time he reviews the canons of art with vigor
+and sanity.”</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>TENNEY FRANK</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>VIRGIL: A Biography</cite>                       $2.00</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>The New Republic</cite>: “You will find a new force drawing you to
+<cite>Virgil</cite>, and discover at what a heavy cost to you instruction in
+Latin has been entrusted to grammarians, instead of Tenney
+Franks.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>A HISTORY OF ROME</cite></p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>New York Times</cite>: “From beginning to end, a narrative of vital
+interest whose dramatic developments every now and then
+become profoundly fascinating.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>American Historical Series: Library Edition, 8vo., 613 pp., $4.50</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>J. B. FLETCHER</p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>DANTE</cite></p>
+
+<p class='c007'>A brief book on his personal confessions, teaching and art.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Home University Library                       90 cents</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>W. W. FOWLER</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>ROME</cite></p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite>The Spectator</cite>: “A masterly sketch of Roman character and
+what it did for the world.”</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>Home University Library                      90 cents</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS      (VI. ’23)      NEW YORK</p>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>Books on Art</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>FRANK JEWETT MATHER, JR.’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>HISTORY OF ITALIAN PAINTING</cite>               $3.50
+In the Renaissance. <em>With over 325 illustrations.</em></p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>ESTIMATES IN ART</cite>                          $2.00
+<em>With 10 illustrations</em></p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>SYMONDS’</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>SHORT HISTORY OF THE RENAISSANCE</cite>          $2.00</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>TAINE’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>LECTURES ON ART: First Series</cite>             $2.50</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>A. W. M. STIRLING’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>WILLIAM De MORGAN AND HIS WIFE</cite>            $6.00
+<em>With illustrations of their art works.</em></p>
+
+<p class='c007'><span class='large'></span>
+<cite>In the Home University Library</cite>   Each, 90 cents</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>SIR F. WEDMORE’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>PAINTERS AND PAINTINGS</cite>
+<em>With 16 full page illustrations.</em></p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>W. R. LETHABY’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>ARCHITECTURE</cite>
+An Introduction to Its History and Theory. <em>With line drawings.</em></p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>A. C. BROCK’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>WILLIAM MORRIS: His Work and Influence</cite>
+The story of how Morris turned from making works of art to remaking society.</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'><cite>Art Books for the Young</cite></span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>JOHN D. CHAMPLIN’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>YOUNG FOLKS CYCLOPAEDIA: LITERATURE
+  AND ART</cite>                                  $3.00
+<em>With numerous illustrations.</em></p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>ANNA CURTIS CHANDLER’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>MAGIC PICTURES OF THE LONG AGO</cite>            $1.40
+<cite>Illustrated from those in the Metropolitan Museum
+of Art, New York.</cite></p>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>MORE MAGIC PICTURES OF LONG AGO</cite>           $1.40
+<em>Similarly illustrated.</em></p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'>MAUDE I. G. OLIVER’S</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'><cite class='bold'>FIRST STEPS IN THE ENJOYMENT OF PICTURES</cite>
+<cite>Illustrated.</cite></p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div>HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</div>
+    <div>PUBLISHERS      (VI ’23)      NEW YORK</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><cite>Revised and Enlarged, Fifth Edition</cite></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='large'><span class='sc'>The Home Book of Verse</span></span></div>
+    <div class='c004'>COMPILED BY</div>
+    <div class='c004'>BURTON E. STEVENSON</div>
+    <div class='c004'>(American and English 1580–1920)</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c007'>The third edition was revised from end to
+end—590 poems added, pages renumbered,
+author, title, and first line indices, and the biographical
+matter corrected, etc., etc. In the
+two editions since there has been little change
+beyond the noting of some dates of deaths, etc.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>The hundreds of letters from readers and
+poets suggesting additions or corrections as well
+as the columns of reviews of the first edition
+have been considered. Poets who were chary
+of lending their support to an unknown venture
+have now generously permitted the use of their
+work.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>This edition includes the “new” poets such as
+<span class='sc'>Masefield</span>, <span class='sc'>Chesterton</span>, <span class='sc'>Frost</span>, <span class='sc'>Rupert
+Brooke</span>, <span class='sc'>de la Mare</span>, <span class='sc'>Ralph Hodgson</span>, etc.</p>
+
+<p class='c032'>“A collection so complete and distinguished that it is
+difficult to find any other approaching it sufficiently
+for comparison.”—<cite>New York Times Book Review</cite> on
+the first edition.</p>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+  <div class='nf-center'>
+    <div><em>India Paper, 4096</em> pages. <em>Gilt-edged. Boxed.</em></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><em>Cloth, one volume, $15.00 net.</em></div>
+      <div class='line'><em>Cloth, two volumes, $18.50 net.</em></div>
+      <div class='line'><em>¾ Morocco, one volume, $20.00 net.</em></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div>HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</div>
+    <div>PUBLISHERS      NEW YORK</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='pbb'>
+ <hr class='pb c004'>
+</div>
+<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+ <ol class='ol_1 c002'>
+    <li>Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
+
+    </li>
+    <li>Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
+
+    </li>
+    <li>Re-indexed footnotes using numbers.
+    </li>
+  </ol>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF ITALIAN PAINTING ***</div>
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