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diff --git a/69844-0.txt b/69844-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1ace5c --- /dev/null +++ b/69844-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14283 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69844 *** + + _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 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Books on Italians or on Rome + + + CROCE’S + +=ARIOSTO, SHAKESPEARE AND CORNEILLE= $2.50 + +_J. 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STEVENSON + + (American and English 1580–1920) + +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. + +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. + +This edition includes the “new” poets such as MASEFIELD, CHESTERTON, +FROST, RUPERT BROOKE, DE LA MARE, RALPH HODGSON, etc. + + “A collection so complete and distinguished that it is difficult to + find any other approaching it sufficiently for comparison.”—_New + York Times Book Review_ on the first edition. + + _India Paper, 4096_ pages. _Gilt-edged. Boxed._ + + _Cloth, one volume, $15.00 net. + Cloth, two volumes, $18.50 net. + ¾ Morocco, one volume, $20.00 net._ + + + HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in + spelling. + 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. + 3. Re-indexed footnotes using numbers. + 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + 5. Enclosed bold font in =equals=. + 6. Denoted superscripts by a caret before a single superscript + character, e.g. M^r. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69844 *** |