diff options
Diffstat (limited to '77325-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 77325-0.txt | 7458 |
1 files changed, 7458 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/77325-0.txt b/77325-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..936c38d --- /dev/null +++ b/77325-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7458 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77325 *** + + + + + BERNINI AND OTHER STUDIES + + +[Illustration: [Logo]] + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS + ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO + + MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED + LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA + MELBOURNE + + THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. + TORONTO + +[Illustration: PLATE I.] + + + + + BERNINI AND OTHER STUDIES + IN THE + HISTORY OF ART + + + BY + RICHARD NORTON + MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS, BOSTON + + + =NEW YORK= + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + LONDON: MACMILLAN AND COMPANY + + 1914 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1914, + BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. + + Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1914. + + + =Norwood Press= + J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co. + Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + + PREFACE + + +The essays presented in the following pages are the product of no hasty +thought. I am grateful to the kind friends who have encouraged their +publication, and to the publishers for giving them so attractive a form. + +The choice of illustrations has been difficult. It has seemed best, +however, to reproduce in full the little-known sketches of Bernini +showing the development, in his mind, of the design for the Piazza of +St. Peter’s, and the sculptor’s models wrought by his own hands. For the +rest I have thought that it would be more serviceable for the reader to +have a few typical examples illustrating the main points of the text +rather than a larger, and perhaps more confusing, selection of subjects +from the almost inexhaustible wealth of available material. I am under +deep obligation for the generous permission to include among the +illustrations material in the Brandegee Collection (at Faulkner Farm, +Brookline, Massachusetts) hitherto unpublished. The heliotype plates +were prepared and printed under the direction of Mr. William C. Ramsay, +of Boston. + + RICHARD NORTON. + + LONDON, July, 1914. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + BERNINI + + I. AN ESTIMATE OF BERNINI 3 + II. A COLLECTION OF SCULPTOR’S MODELS BY BERNINI 44 + III. BERNINI’S DESIGNS FOR THE PIAZZA OF ST. PETER’S 50 + + + ASPECTS OF THE ART OF SCULPTURE + + I. THE ART OF PORTRAITURE, PARTICULARLY IN SCULPTURE 57 + II. PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO 93 + III. A HEAD OF ATHENA FOUND AT CYRENE 135 + + + GIORGIONE + + I. PAINTINGS ATTRIBUTED TO GIORGIONE 155 + II. THE TRUE GIORGIONE 172 + + INDEX 215 + + + + + PLATES + + + PLATES I AND II. PORTRAITS OF BERNINI + NUMBER + I. Bernini. Pencil Drawing, by himself (p. 12); + Brandegee Collection _Frontispiece_ + FACING PAGE + II. Portrait, formerly thought to be of Velasquez, + probably of Bernini (p. 12, footnote 3); + Capitoline Gallery, Rome 4 + + + PLATES III-X. WORKS OF BERNINI + + III. Æneas and Anchises (p. 16); Borghese + Collection, Rome 8 + IV. David (p. 17); Borghese Collection 12 + V. Proserpina and Pluto (p. 17); Borghese + Collection 16 + VI. Apollo and Daphne (p. 17); Borghese Collection 18 + VII. Angel with the Crown of Thorns (p. 25); Church + of S. Andrea delle Fratte, Rome 22 + VIII. Angel with a Scroll (p. 25); Church of S. + Andrea delle Fratte, Rome 24 + IX. Saint Theresa (p. 30); Church of S. Maria + della Vittoria, Rome 30 + X. Louis XIV (p. 39); Versailles 38 + + + PLATES XI-XXVII. SCULPTOR’S MODELS BY BERNINI; BRANDEGEE COLLECTION + + XI. Female figure in relief, with helmet (p. 46, + No. 1) 44 + XII. Figure of Longinus, for St. Peter’s (p. 46, + No. 2) 44 + XIII. Putti, for the decoration of the piers in St. + Peter’s (p. 47, Nos. 3 and 4) 44 + XIV. Two saints, for the Ciborio in the Cappella + del Sacramento in St. Peter’s (p. 47, Nos. + 5, 7) 46 + XV. Two saints, for the Ciborio in the Cappella + del Sacramento in St. Peter’s (p. 47, Nos. + 6, 8) 46 + XVI. Bas-relief with half-figures (p. 47, No. 9) 46 + XVII. Half figure of a Triton holding a woman on his + shoulders (p. 47, No. 10) 46 + XVIII. Study for the head of the St. Jerome in the + Duomo of Siena (p. 47, No. 11) 46 + XIX-XXIV. Models of Angels (pp. 47, 48, Nos. 12–21) 48 + XXV. Standing male figure in high relief (p. 49, + No. 22) 48 + XXVI. Oval bas-relief of the Virgin (p. 49, No. 23) 48 + XXVII. Standing female figure, and standing Angel (p. + 49, Nos. 24, 25) 48 + + + PLATES XXVIII-XL. BERNINI’S DESIGNS FOR THE PIAZZA OF ST. PETER’S; + BRANDEGEE COLLECTION + + XXVIII. Orb, surmounted by a cross; outline of a + crucified figure (p. 51, Nos. 1, 2) 50 + XXIX. Outline plan of St. Peter’s church correlated + with a figure on a cross above lines + suggesting the colonnades (p. 52, Nos. 3, 4) 50 + XXX. More complete correlation of the crucified + figure with St. Peter’s church (p. 52, Nos. + 5, 6) 50 + XXXI. Outline elevation of north half of the facade + of St. Peter’s, with the colonnade (p. 52, + No. 7) 52 + XXXII. Sketches of the north colonnade (p. 53, No. 8) 52 + XXXIII. More elaborate sketch of the north colonnade + (p. 53, No. 9) 52 + XXXIV. Outline sketch of the outer end of the north + arm of the colonnade, treated as if in two + stories (p. 53, No. 10) 52 + XXXV. Interior of inner end of north arm of + colonnade (p. 53, No. 11) 52 + XXXVI. Plan and elevation of the Cortile di S. Damaso + (p. 53, No. 12) 54 + XXXVII. Façade of St. Peter’s, with both colonnades + treated as if in two stories (p. 53, No. 13) 54 + XXXVIII. View looking east from the front of St. + Peter’s (p. 54, No. 14) 54 + XXXIX. The Borgo, looking toward St. Peter’s (p. 54, + No. 15) 54 + XL. Correlation of the Piazza with the Orb (p. 54, + No. 16) 54 + + + PLATES XLI-LI. PORTRAITS + + XLI. Sheik-el-Beled, statue of wood, Fourth Dynasty + (p. 57); Boulak Museum, Cairo 58 + XLII. Sheik-el-Beled, head of statue shown in plate + XLI 60 + XLIII. Portrait, so-called Scipio type, now + identified as priest of Isis (p. 57); Museum + of Fine Arts, Boston 64 + XLIV. Pericles (p. 78); British Museum 66 + XLV. So-called Menander (p. 82); Brandegee + Collection 72 + XLVI. Periander (p. 82); Vatican Museum 74 + XLVII. Unknown Roman, terra-cotta (p. 85); Museum of + Fine Arts, Boston 78 + XLVIII. Unknown old man, Roman (p. 85); Brandegee + Collection 84 + XLIX. Antoninus Pius (p. 88); Brandegee Collection 86 + L. Roman girl (p. 90); Museum of Fine Arts, + Boston 88 + LI. Sabina? (p. 90); Brandegee Collection 90 + + + PLATES LII-LIX. PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO + + LII. Caryatid from the Erechtheum, Athens (p. 101); + British Museum 96 + LIII. Madonna and Child, by Michael Angelo (p. 116); + Bruges 100 + LIV. The Victor, by Michael Angelo (p. 116); + National Museum, Florence 106 + LV. Bacchus with Satyr, by Michael Angelo (p. + 116); National Museum, Florence 112 + LVI. Eros, by Michael Angelo (p. 118); South + Kensington Museum 118 + LVII. Ares and other Divinities (p. 118); Frieze of + the Parthenon, Athens 124 + LVIII. So-called Athena Medici (p. 119); École des + Beaux-Arts, Paris 126 + LIX. Madonna and Child, by Michael Angelo, + unfinished (p. 131); Church of S. Lorenzo, + Florence 130 + + + PLATES LX, LXI. CYRENE ATHENA + + LX. Profile view of head (p. 135); Cyrene 136 + LXI. Front view of head 144 + + + PLATES LXII-LXIX. PAINTINGS BY GIORGIONE + + LXII. The Judgment of Solomon (p. 172); Kingston + Lacy, England 162 + LXIII. Adoration of the Magi, or Epiphany (p. 175); + National Gallery, London 168 + LXIV. Shepherd’s Offering (p. 180); in the Lord + Allandale Collection, London 174 + LXV. The Storm, gypsy woman and soldier in the + foreground (p. 181); Giovanelli Palace, + Venice 180 + LXVI. The Three Philosophers (p. 181); Vienna 186 + LXVII. Head of Christ bearing the Cross (p. 185); + Gardner Collection, Boston 194 + LXVIII. Portrait (p. 202); Wood Collection, Temple + Newsam, England 202 + LXIX. Madonna and Child (p. 204); Vienna 204 + + + + + BERNINI + + + + + I. AN ESTIMATE OF BERNINI + + +During the last hundred years there has come a great change in the +feeling of most people towards the art of the different epochs of the +Renaissance. Whereas our grandfathers and our great-grandfathers held +Carracci and Guido and others of the same time in high esteem, we are +now taught that these later men are of little value or interest in +comparison with the artists of the fifteenth century, and even the most +halting and stuttering “Primitive” is held of more worth than the more +able masters of the seventeenth century. This change is natural enough, +but betokens a lack of true understanding of the purpose and powers of +the fine arts. + +The altered mental attitude in religious matters which renders most +people incapable of feeling the appeal of the mystical fervour of the +seventeenth century explains in a measure why the earlier work is +preferred; and added to this is the effect of the development of +archæological training which has given rise to an interest in the mere +search for origins—a search that has done infinite harm in blinding the +eyes of students to the fact that, for the world at large, it is far +more important to see whither life is carrying us than from what slow, +groping, and inexplicable protoplasm and haphazard chance it sprung. The +teachers of our universities go on in their dull round, like Dervishes, +repeating that the Parthenon was the most perfect expression of Greek +art, and there are those who cannot see the beauty of the silver vases +from Boscoreale because they choose to call them Roman. Without doubt +there are many sound reasons for the purely archæological study of +classic art, and recently a small but perceptive band of scholars has +raised Roman art from the ignorant neglect into which it had fallen and +given it the proper position due to any such able expression of great +ideas; this justifies the hope that the worth of the later Italian +schools will become once more manifest, not again to be forgotten. + +The idea that the art of any civilized people rises by a steady and +constantly more perfect progression to one glorious peak of perfection +and then falls by rapid and recurring blunders to a waste of meaningless +effort is, I believe, due to the too frequent mistake of considering the +monuments of the arts as separate entities and as self-ordained rather +than as indices of vital currents of thought and life. The English +dictionary is not synonymous with English literature. Nor does the +will-o’-the-wisp phrase “art for art’s sake” mean that each work of art +is a unique and inexplicable phenomenon. Its true meaning is that the +artist, be he poet or sculptor or musician—no matter what form his art +takes—finds the only adequate expression of himself in the forms and +under the governance of the laws of the art which he follows. By so far +as he follows these laws is his work intelligible to other men; by so +far as he finds new combinations for the forms and new adaptations of +the laws to meet the new circumstances of ever changing life is he +original and great. When Shakespeare or Keats wrote a sonnet the verses +were not produced by them merely for the sake of using a certain +complicated formula of fourteen lines to make certain statements, nor +when Pheidias carved the Athena or Praxiteles the Hermes was it merely +with the idea of reproducing the human form in stone. + +[Illustration: PLATE II.] + +Had such been the motive of these poets and sculptors their results +would have had small value; but each one of them had something to say +that he could best express in the form chosen, some feeling towards life +he wished to share with others, and in this outgiving he steadily sought +to perfect the form that held his idea. The care he lavished on the +verse and marble so that the expression of this thought might be the +completest possible and truest to his idea, the delight in making his +chosen art conform to the laws of language or of gravity, while at the +same time it held the thought as a nest holds an egg, _that_ was art for +art’s sake, and a very different matter from mere technical dexterity. + +All the arts are alike means of conveying ideas from brain to brain and +from the past and forgotten generations to those not yet thought of. No +one school ever told the whole truth, but only that part of it maybe +which local circumstances enable it to see. Each of them, from the +earliest which faded away before recorded time, to the latest which +looks eagerly forward to to-morrow with the hope of new accomplishment +and absorption in new truths discovered, is but as the searchlight +casting its sharp-defined ray through the immeasurable dark. The flames +of Priam’s pyre crimsoning the night which hung over the “topless +towers” were not marked on the Argive hills, but the message was flashed +hither and yon over the star-tracked sea, raising now hopes now fears, +till at Mycenæ no answering flame was lit, but instead the young Phœnix +was born. + +And as no one school can answer all the questions, so no one single +pundit can tell all the truth even of his own school. In each honest, +unshamming workman there is something of truth, something others long +ago thrilled to or that others yet to come may also feel, something that +he knows with a clarity and conviction not to be equalled by any other. +In a sense he does express his time, but neither the artist nor any man +else is merely the product of his time, and the truly great ones go +ahead of it, following the gleam of the divine spark which each man is +born with to shelter in his heart as best he may. If it keep alight, by +God’s grace, his life becomes in truth art for art’s sake, and he is one +of the successful runners in the torch race across the great divide of +life that separates the hopeless past from the hopeful future. + +Of such there are many to spur on the weary and to guide the strayed +back to the beacon path. In every man who has appealed to the masses, +whose ears have rung and whose heart has swelled with the loud cries of +“well done,” there is, be sure, something of the ultimate divine +truth—some no mockery—some sincerity which heated in the fires of his +soul and beaten with long pain and trouble on the anvil of his heart, +shall be, if we can grasp it, a treasure undiminishing so long as we +have breath to live. + +Such an one was Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, whose life was almost +coterminous with the seventeenth century (1598–1680). Honoured during +life by three courts, and at that time court patronage was a very +different thing to what it is now, he has of late been treated with a +disregard which is unjustified, and has been blamed for faults which +were not his. These false judgments can be traced back to the envy of +some of his contemporaries, who on the one hand accused him of ignorance +of the mechanics of his art and of stupidity of design, and on the +other, oftentimes, did their best to copy him. But it gives us pause +when we consider that notwithstanding the forces of jealousy backed by +powerful influence that were brought to bear on him he remained in the +eyes of artistic Italy during his sixty and more working years the +“Michael Angelo of the seicento.” And this estimate of him, if we lay +aside preconceived notions and formulas handed down to us by our +parents, and look at his work with our own eyes and study it in the +light of our own knowledge, will turn out to be the right one. Only the +rash and heedless dare say of one who acquired such admiration in his +own day that his work was poor and unworthy. And yet this is what is +said. His style is said to be extravagant and artificial and his violent +material effects are said to show that he was unable to express thought. +Even the group of Apollo and Daphne is held to exhibit his ignorance of +the proper domain of sculpture. It seems to me more likely that the +judgment of the artists and critics of the seventeenth century is apt to +be the correct one. + +What would be artificial in an artist to-day was not so in Bernini, but +was, if we could see it and free our hearts from the bonds of tradition, +the most honest and simplest expression of a genius who had a new +message for those who would take the trouble to understand. Frequently +his work is criticised for not conforming to the “severe laws” of good +sculpture and in this criticism lies the common fallacy of letting +personal taste usurp the place of critical judgment. There are, of +course, laws of gravity, and of stress or strain to which a sculptor +must conform because they are in the nature of the material he uses, +just as there are optical laws which the painter should know; but there +are no laws to fix what the artist may or may not represent or the forms +which he should give to his representations. Personal taste is very well +in its place, but it is not criticism; and severe laws are good training +for our powers, but dependence on them leads to stagnation and not to +discovery. Because the stage-coach follows the old gray road is it +artificial of the aeroplane to soar through the trackless ether? +Probably most critics, when they speak of severe laws as fixed and +irrevocable, have in mind those followed by the Greeks of the fifth +century B.C.—surely of no later time, for what of the violent material +effects of Pergamon? But suppose portraits of the present-day business +kings were carved according to the one-time valid classic laws? +Strangely unlike the subject would such portraits be! + +There is nothing ultimately right in severity nor ultimately wrong in +violence. The money-changers were not led from the temple by a ribbon +round their necks. The pioneer and path breaker must be violent. This +was Bernini’s work and purpose, and it is no more reasonable to blame +him for the insincerity and stupidity of his followers than to blame +Columbus for lynch law. As of many another, Bernini’s fame has been +dimmed by the follies and shams of his would-be imitators. Many tried to +imitate and surpass him, but it was not to be done. He had the quality +of genius which is more than the power of taking infinite pains. That +his pupils had, but they merely exaggerated the form of the outer husk +of his work till it lost all semblance of truth and became nothing but +untruth and error. In him was the divine spark, the light of which +showed new worlds for sculpture to work in and the heat of which moulded +his material into the eternal forms of beauty. + +[Illustration: PLATE III.] + +The study of Bernini is established on very strong foundations, and the +misinterpretation of his aims is inexcusable; for we have sure records +of every kind concerning him. From his surprising youth to his busy old +age we can trace his progress and the development of his powers. Of all +his numerous works scarcely one is lost, and such as have disappeared +are of no importance whatever in comparison with what remains. The full +account of his life was written by two contemporaries, one of them his +son, and this is amplified by many letters and other papers—accounts of +payments for his work, stories of his doings, plans for work sometimes +never undertaken and other times finally accomplished by himself or his +pupils, that have been turned up into the light after long sleep in +Italian archives.[1] It is all before us, and each chapter of his life +can be recalled from the Elysian fields. We grow eager with the same +hopes, we feel despondent at the same broken faith and pledges, we grow +interested in the same companionships, we rest after the same +magnificent accomplishments, and to the end we are keen in search of new +worlds to open up. + +Even the look of him we know; what the appearance was as he moved among +the Popes and Kings, the Cardinals and Princes of Europe. What it was +for a man they saw we too can see. What it was of a heart he felt +dragging him on with engine throbs we can guess when our amazed eyes +rest on the Saint Theresa, the bust of Louis XIV, or the throne in St. +Peter’s. A strongly built, dark man, his thick hair whitening in old +age, but the quick eye never losing its brilliancy and piercing glance. +Of simple fashion in dress, as the pictures and drawings by himself and +others show him, for all his love of rich stuffs and floating draperies. +A ready and pleasant wit made him the best of company, though at times +withdrawn into himself by some mystical absorption. For just as the +great religious leaders, so the great artists are at times lifted by +some ecstasy away from actual surrounding fact and lost in worlds only +visible to their inner eye, and though visible never to be told of. At +other times his spirits broke forth in irrepressible gaiety which though +it might form itself as satire was never malevolent. Generous to a +fault, and always ready to lift up a friend, he was implacable towards +his enemies, and rightly showed them no mercy. He had the strength to be +a good hater,—not feebly excusing hypocrisy and meanness because the +hypocrite was weak or knew no better, but hating, not the poor miserable +individual, but his qualities, and, to the best of his own power, +destroying them. Proud and self-confident, but willing to answer +questions or to explain what might seem faults. A lonely man; one with +many acquaintances but few friends. Too sincere not to be shocked by the +heartless brutishness of the woman he loved, too honest a workman not to +be hurt by the attacks of envy, but never losing heart, always following +his ideal and seeking to eternize the beautiful visions of his bright +soul. + +There are many portraits of him, some done with pencil or pen or graver, +others more elaborate oil paintings. They are the work of his friends, +or done by himself, and show him at various periods of life from young +manhood to old age. Naturally they vary in many ways, but the variance +is for the most part in the details of the outer shell of the man. The +thick dark locks of the youth give place to the thin gray hairs of the +old man; the full cheeks grow sunken and wrinkles frame the piercing +eyes; but in all the portraits certain characteristics remain constant. +A pencil drawing in the Galleria Nazionale in Rome is the best of the +youthful portraits.[2] It is by himself, done when he was some twenty +years old. It shows a finely shaped head with thick, waving hair. The +face is strongly modelled, and all the features noticeable; the nose +large and slightly bent, the chin square and strong. Lips full and +sensitive, but vigorous. Most noticeable of all are the eyes, large and +dark, set rather deeply under heavy brows, looking straightly and sadly +but imperturbably on the world. A face of power yet of sweetness. A man +to ask after and to watch what he will do in this world. Rather older we +see him in two drawings in the private collection of Prince Chigi in +Rome.[3] Life was testing him severely we know, but the eyes are still +steady, are still bright with the inner light that was leading him on, +and the mouth is still sweet and undrawn. + +Of about the same time, or a little later maybe, is the oil portrait +supposed to be by himself (though for this there is little proof), in +the Uffizi.[4] No change yet in the character except in a strengthening +and making permanent the good qualities of his youth. The man has found +himself. Many years go by before we again see him face to face. + +In the Gallery of St. Luke[5] and in the possession of Count Andreozzi +in Rome[6] are portraits of him in his last years, and a very fine +pencil drawing by himself in the Brandegee Collection (Plate I). All his +works were completed, his visits to the courts of Europe were over, he +is the “Michael Angelo of the seicento,” and yet he is just as simple in +his dress and pose as ever. Obviously a great man whose ideals were so +much greater to him than what he had accomplished that no possible +flattery could disturb the balance of his mental poise. One change there +is in the face more to be remarked than the higher forehead and the +fuller chin. The eyes are still bright and level, the mouth still as +soft and strong, but the sadness of expression has gone. Had he +realized, I wonder, that soon all the sorrows of life would be hidden +and lost under the gray church floor? Though the glad light of the sun +no longer shone upon his life his face is bright with a mystical light +as of the ranging stars which for countless thousands of years have +guided the feet of man.[7] + +[Illustration: PLATE IV.] + +It may be thought that I have given a fanciful interpretation to the +change that came in his face from youth to old age, but it can be shown +that some such thoughts as I have suggested moved him. About 1650, at a +time when his enemies had attacked his work in St. Peter’s and caused +him great financial damage and still greater hurt to his natural and +proper pride, the idea came to him to carve an allegory that should show +the ages what his feeling towards his critics, towards art and towards +life truly was. Allegories in painting or sculpture are usually, owing +to the fixed limitations of these arts, unintelligible, but no artist +ever lived who could have done as well as Bernini in making clear his +idea with the material he used. Even if we did not have his own words +about this group his thought would be seen, for his amazing command of +technique and his knowledge of statics made it possible for him to +combine figures with a freedom rarely equalled, and thereby to express +himself with an ease and fulness beyond the powers of most sculptors of +any time. Only one of the two figures which were to form the group was +ever finished, but there is a sepia sketch showing the whole +composition. + +In it we see the winged figure of Time hovering above a beautiful woman +from whose nude body he lifts a mantle. She is Truth; in her hand she +holds an image of the Sun darting bright rays in all directions. This +group meant much to him; was perhaps the most personal and truly +expressive work he ever made, and till his death he kept it by him. In +his will he says that not without reason has he kept this statue of +Truth unveiled by Time which he wishes to remain for ever in the +possession of his descendants who, as they look on it, may remember that +the most lovely of the virtues is Truth and that if one works under her +guidance Time in the end reveals her. Are the “severe laws” of the +ancients any more severe than this rule Bernini held before himself and +wished his descendants never to forget, and is it sensible because at +first sight his work seems strange and unaccountable to damn it with +such words as “fantastic” or “baroque”? + +The group was never finished, but in a dirty courtyard off the Corso in +Rome, neglected as only the Italians know how to neglect such things +till some outsider stirs their jaded appreciation to new interest, is +the Discovered Truth. Time on hasty wings flies by, but as Bernini knew, +Truth stays always, heedless of neglect, the fixed pole for all those +who set their aim beyond the bounds within which their earthly eyes +would prison them. And knowing this, it came to pass that his old face +was lit with a peaceful smile as he came to the evening of life. + +Bernini’s work is of unusual variety, but the best of it falls into four +classes. There are the wonderful groups illustrating old world myths +that he produced in the full joy of life in his youth; there are the +amazing religious monuments in which he embodied with unrivalled skill +the mystical intensity of the religion whose chief priests he served; +there are the superbly joyous settings for fountains which though the +waters might dry up and cease to flow will still, so long as the stone +lasts, echo their murmuring music; and there are the long series of +magnificent busts on which he was employed from his very earliest days +to his latest. He was besides author, painter, illustrator, and +architect. I have no intention of cataloguing the long series of work +his never idle hand produced, but wish merely to point out some of the +forgotten beauties that he brought into being. In a measure, it is +possible to trace the source of his inspiration and in lesser degree to +foresee its outcome. + +His father, Pietro, a Florentine, was a sculptor of no mean power before +him. His mother was of Naples, and in that southern, passionate city +Gian Lorenzo was born in 1598 and there he passed his first years. Some +day another Mendel may be able to establish what were the forces of +Florentine and Neapolitan blood that lay dormant in his young brain, but +for us is no such certainty, and we can only guess at the effect of the +father’s artistic occupations and the mother’s quick blood. In 1604, +when the boy was but six years old, his father moved to Rome, the city +his son was destined to impress with his genius as no city but Athens +has ever been impressed by a single artist. Working at first for his +father, he was only fourteen years old when he drew to himself the +attention of all the _connoscenti_ by two busts which, as Annibale +Carracci said, any artist after years of work might have been proud to +make. The admiration Bernini won for these works, to which I shall +return, led, as was the good habit of those days, to the patronage of +the Borghese pope, Paul V. + +In the Borghese villa, the ruined grandeur of which is still the chief +pride of Rome, the young Bernini was surrounded by beautiful antique +marbles, some of which he was called upon to restore. This familiarity +with ancient sculpture, and this subjection in the task of restoration +of his own spirit to that of classic masters, had a very marked effect +on him—an effect which in its deepest sense lasted throughout his long +life, though its more obvious and visible manifestation soon waned and +faded away. That is to say, while his work at all times showed a perfect +comprehension of some of the fundamental laws of the material out of +which sculpture is formed, laws that were first clearly expounded by the +Greeks, it is only in a few of his earliest, and for a youth miraculous, +works that he shows a tendency to imitate classic form. + +Four wonderful works were produced for the Borghese family. The Æneas +and Anchises (Plate III), the David (Plate IV), the Rape of Proserpina +(Plate V), and the exquisite group of Apollo and Daphne (Plate VI). All +these were finished when he was only twenty-seven. Realizing this, the +comparison of him with Michael Angelo no longer seems exaggerated, but +one sees further that no such comparison can perform the ordinary +service of all such juxtapositions, which is to afford a scale of better +or worse, for the two masters are supreme, each in his own individual +and original way, and incomparable. + +[Illustration: PLATE V.] + +Opinion may easily differ in regard to the first three of the works just +mentioned. To me the Æneas is the least pleasing and the David the least +successful artistically. The faults of both may be in part due to the +fact that in each case Bernini’s imagination was to a certain degree +hampered by work of other men which he seems to have set himself to +surpass, and even though it may be granted that he did surpass his +models, he would have done better, as in the Proserpina and Daphne, to +let his own genius lead him whither it would and ignore other +suggestion. The models I refer to are, in the case of the Æneas, the +Christ by Michael Angelo in Santa Maria sopra Minerva and for the David +the Borghese Warrior now in the Louvre, both works of small merit.[8] +The reason the Æneas seems to me unpleasing is because of the weakness +and unheroic look of the faces and figures, but others may not feel +this, and the skill of the group is undoubted. The lack of success in +the David is due to a slight failure in understanding the Greek motive +that Bernini was copying. Whether or not he had in mind the Borghese +Warrior as he carved this figure is a matter of slight importance. He +was in any case representing a single figure in a position of strongly +marked action, a problem that Myron magnificently solved in the +Discobolus. The Borghese Warrior is by no means so successful. The David +would rival the Discobolus had Bernini not made one mistake. The figure +is turned to the wrong side. As he stands, the right arm drawn back, the +left hand holding the stone in the sling in front of the body, the sling +must fall loose and dead, the body must again be flung forward and the +right arm swung upwards before the youth can get the momentum to hurl +the stone at his enemy. Had Bernini turned the figure the other way with +the left hand behind and the right in front of the body, this sense of +ineffectiveness in the pose would not have existed, and the whole body +would have been tensely set at the moment of rest between the action of +drawing back for the aim and the instantaneously following motion of the +cast.[9] + +Though such slight criticism may be passed on these two works, the other +two, the Proserpina and Daphne are not open to any similar attack. They +are magnificent, and compel admiration even from those whose training +would tend to limit their preferences to work of another type. Never was +the spirit of the two stories more fully understood or more adequately +rendered. Never was marble managed in more masterful fashion and given +such flux and flow of life. One’s breath catches as one looks, for it +seems no longer a work of art before one’s eyes, but life itself. There +is the dark, passionate rape of Proserpine, her splendid soft body +shrinking and twisting in the grasp of the undeniable, compelling God of +the underworld. There is the sweet, sad loss of Daphne, her exquisite +springtime figure fading and changing into the rustling silver leaves in +fright at the too hasty claim of her lover. Her face is still lovely, +though the wide eyes and open mouth show her fear, but is there nothing +in her fear of loss of her dear pursuer? And what of him? Not to be +thought of as Olympian brother to the cruel, forceful Pluto. His face +and action betoken the tenderness that would save the woman he loves +from the heartless folly she would thoughtlessly commit. In the one +group the storm and rush of passion; in the other the tender restraint +of love. Both purely Greek and classic, and both carved with such +consummate mastery that we forget the marble and see only the dark +Tartarean glow and hear only the whispering of the sad leaves. + +[Illustration: PLATE VI.] + +The perfection of technique displayed in the works of Bernini’s youthful +years is obvious to anyone with the slightest knowledge of sculpture. +His knowledge of anatomy must have been almost instinctive, while he +used the chisel with an ease that few painters could rival with a brush. +His understanding, too, of balance and composition and of the forms the +marble could be given was a revelation, and infinitely enlarged the +field of sculpture. As a mere group, the Daphne has never been +surpassed, and Bernini himself recognised that, at least from the point +of view of technique, none of his later works were any more marvellous. +The spirit and character, however, of the later work are very different. +It is worth noting that his method of production differs greatly from +that of his predecessors. Hundreds of sepia drawings by him still exist +which show the fertility of his invention and the labour he spent in +getting the best design for his works. There are also many terra cotta +models for his statues, and in all of these we see a directness in the +way he approached his subject that differentiates him from the +forerunners in the art. Among the Greeks, among the painters at least, +it was not uncommon to think of the body and the drapery as separate and +to draw or model the first entirely nude and then afterwards to put +drapery over it. This habit was common enough during the Renaissance, +and the studies of such men as Dürer and Leonardo show that it was not +confined to the lesser men whose lack of skill and knowledge was helped +by such double process. + +But among all the hundreds of sketches on paper and models in +terra-cotta that are left us of Bernini’s work there is scarcely a trace +of this method of procedure. He visualized each work in endless +different ways, making rapid but most skilful studies of them all, but +he saw the figure each time completed. The figures and drapery and +setting were one indivisible whole to him, and his uncommon knowledge of +anatomy, and the rare clearness of his mental vision, made it possible +for him when the final form of the work was fixed upon to work at it +from the outside inwards, and not, as in something built of blocks, from +the inside outwards. And while his sketches differ in this regard from +those of most other artists, the variety of them, especially the very +numerous ones for the same monument, show the pitch of excellence to +which art had arrived, for these sketches are no longer the record of +the artist’s search to learn _how_, but of his eager search _how best_. +Not that Bernini was unique in this. The fertility of invention of such +men as Domenico Tiepolo is as that of a tree putting forth leaves, but +no other artist illustrates these qualities and methods more completely +and masterfully than our Gian Lorenzo. + +I have mentioned above the originality displayed by men such as Michael +Angelo and Bernini. Many another name could be added to these two, but +it is not of men I wish to speak, but of this quality of originality, +this crucible from which the old is drawn forth new, this Spring season +of the mind which clothes the old, dry stumps with fresh life. The word +is so often misused about the artists of to-day that its real +significance is lost and true originality is too often imitated by a +cheaper, rottener stuff. Every one of us is original in some degree. No +one, unless he be mentally dead, sees or feels or believes as his father +or grandfathers did before him. It may be the old belief was more +correct and the old eyes were sharper than the new. Only the purblind +and myopic think that all the early stages were wrong and that the +solitary Present is alone right. Were this so, how hopelessly wrong this +same Present would soon be! What a hideous precipice of error would this +life’s painful course appear! As in life, so it is in Art, and all +artists are original who are genuine and honest, who are spurred on only +by their ideals and their love for their work—who give up worshipping +the xoana and idols of a past day. It may be suggested that there is +little difference, or perhaps even none, between one’s own ideal and any +other suggested to us by some wrought image, whether in stone or verse +is no matter. But there is. There is the difference of life. The light +of one is of the dying embers, but the light of the other is of the +rising Sun which shows the path we follow till our feet grow slower and +slower, till at the last they halt and stop fixed. While the idol +remains but the symbol of the ideal it is right. When it becomes the God +it is wrong, or when doubt has cut its roots and sapped its strength and +we pay it service merely because to do so has become an easy habit. So +it is we come to see that the originality of these artists was not mere +novelty, but was truthfulness. It represents their beliefs, and what you +believe you believe for yourself alone. It shows us what their real, +sure-founded and enduring hopes and aims were. Mere novelty cannot be +believed in because it is accidental. It has neither root nor promise of +flower. It is the mirage of the salt desert, and it is this mere +queerness, mere strain, mere novelty which is too often mistaken for +originality. It is the paradox masquerading as the True Word. Just as +this world whirls like a “fretful midge” through space, ever in the same +track, a recurring course, but gradually unperceived moves elsewhither, +so do the great artists revolve, and impelled not by their own +wilfulness but by the power of the divine spark within them, slowly move +forward. And among that splendid company is Bernini. + +The terra cotta studies in the Brandegee Collection[10] illustrate +clearly Bernini’s originality and the power to which I have referred +above, of seeing his visions in their completeness without having to +painfully build them up. I do not mean to imply that each separate +detail of his works was the same in his first vision of them as in their +finished form. He worked at them assiduously, and perfected them with +the greatest patience and care, but when they came into his mind they +rose before him like ghosts from the tomb—vague but entire. + +It is noteworthy that most of these models are of angels, and as such +represent the religious work by which Bernini is best known, and on +which he was most often employed after his youth was past. By the time +he was twenty-five years old he had been employed by three Popes, and +before his death five others sought his aid and depended largely on his +genius in their endeavours to beautify Rome and to render their own fame +imperishable. These undertakings were of very various character, but the +greater number of them, such as statues of Saints, decoration of +chapels, altars and tabernacles, grave monuments of Popes and prelates, +were done with religious purpose and may be called his ecclesiastical +work. It is superb in its mastery, magnificent in effect, and while +utterly different from anything that had been done before, gives the +impression of complete and perfect sincerity. Though unlike earlier work +and though the religion that inspired and made it possible has changed +so that never again will an artist be able to give similar expression to +his ideals, still there is no ground for considering it merely curious +and the expression of insincerity or passing error. Anything that +affected so many thousands of men, which they found beautiful and +satisfying to their souls, must be in a measure true, must have in it +some portion of ultimate wisdom. Silence or contempt towards it, any +feeling but of sympathy with it, shows not a better knowledge but a +duller understanding. + +[Illustration: PLATE VII.] + +During the sixteenth century a great change had come about in the way +men looked at life. Discoveries were made of all sorts; on land for +men’s feet to follow or in mathematics and philosophy for their souls to +reach up to. Old dogmas became untenable and the roofs with which men +had sheltered their heads became scaffolding on which they planted their +feet. It was a time of revolution—the revolution of the wheel of life +which advances as it turns. I have called attention to the fact that the +artists in their search for the fullest possible expression of their +thought often threw off dozens of designs for a single work before +finding the one most adequate. Technique no longer hampered them in the +slightest way, and they readily changed their mode in accordance with +new views, no longer blindly following the old guides. The work of +Titian is one of the most obvious illustrations of this. In his youth he +followed, like the Indian, the steps of his leaders, but as he aged, he +broke from them more and more, till at the end he arrived in a world his +teachers could never have imagined. Bernini had a similar experience. + +One of the commonest complaints brought against Bernini is that he +introduced the habit of decorating the archivolts or domed roofs of the +churches with figures of angels fluttering about like great white birds, +and in this complaint no distinction is made between the idea that +underlay this scheme of decoration and the inappropriate and exaggerated +use of it made often by his imitators. From the earliest times of the +Renaissance, this scheme had been used. Bernini did not invent it. The +Gothic portals and towers of France are crowded with figures of saints +and kings, of angels and demons. In orderly ranks they guard the gates +or singly spring into mid air from the balconies. In Italy the shepherds +of the people stood in pulpits which rested on the strong shoulders of +Christ’s soldiers or on the steady wings of the heavenly host, while +high o’erhead (as in the Portinari Chapel in S. Eustorgio, Milan), a +ring of winged figures, hand holding hand, danced and sang, and down the +long aisles and in the dark chapels every sleeper in his stony bed was +guarded by the faithful spirits. + +Why then find fault with Bernini and think he erred in doing what all +the world found good? If Bernini is mistaken in putting marble figures +above our heads, why excuse Correggio for the circling swarms with which +he covered the church domes, or Michael Angelo for the cataract of +figures with which he covered the Sistine Chapel? All such work must be +considered for its suggestion, not from the point of view of its actual +substance. Why, if the conventional and halting work of the nameless +early artists is good, should the masterly work of Bernini be considered +bad? Only because the modern world thinks it foolish to believe in +anthropomorphic angels and having no belief, has lost the power of +understanding symbols. And also the antagonism Bernini’s work arouses is +due to the fad for the primitive and incomplete. The very lack of power +that every early artist tried to rid himself of is now thought to be his +chief value and grace, and as in the daily press a missing word puzzle +attracts more attention than a sonnet so the halting early work finds +more admirers than the later perfect art. + +[Illustration: PLATE VIII.] + +Perfect as they are, there is something more than anthropomorphism in +Bernini’s angels. Earlier artists, even the best of the Florentines, +when representing these heavenly messengers, almost always make them so +solid and human that the wings are utterly inadequate, or else they +suggest the body by a thin and shapeless swirl of drapery topped by a +perfectly substantial head. In either case the result is unsatisfactory, +for though the figures conform to the usual idea of angels as effeminate +human forms with wings, the chief impression they make is of +inconsistent and impossible anatomical combinations. + +They fail just as the archaic Greek centaurs with human feet fail. When +one looks at Bernini’s angels, the two done in his youth for the altar +of Sant’ Agostino, or the two for instance which he carved in later +years for the Ponte Sant’ Angelo, but which were considered too +beautiful to be exposed in the open air and are now sheltered in Sant’ +Andrea delle Fratte (Plates VII, VIII), or at the one which kneels on +the left hand of the _Ciborio_ in the _Cappella del Sacramento_ in Saint +Peter’s, one has no sense of unreality. The bodies are human in form, +but spiritual in their lightness and grace. The wings are strong and +large, and yet so feathery as to seem almost transparent. The drapery +falls and clings to and fits the body as a cloud might, and the face and +action express a perfect and soul-filling adoration that finds +expression in tireless worship and unending song of praise. These are +the true “sexless souls, ideal quires.” + +This same strong religious feeling is shown with equal certainty in +other figures by Bernini which are better known than his angels. These +are the figures of saints which he made in his middle and later years. +The earliest of them, that of Santa Bibiana, done in 1626, when he was +still a young man, shows in the arrangement and pose of the figure the +influence of the antique. The technique exhibits the same magnificent +ease and the same power of reproducing the various qualities of drapery +and flesh and hair that we saw before in the Borghese groups, and there +is in the face and gesture the expression of self-effacement in +religious ecstasy that is the most noticeable quality of the later +figures of this kind. As he grows older, these two characteristics of +technical differentiation of surface and of ecstatic expression altered. +While he lost no atom of technical power he tended to lay less stress on +the appearance of the mere surface of his figures and to pay more +attention to and show forth more clearly their mental condition. In +doing this he brought into being figures as truly representative of the +religion of his time as those of Michael Angelo or any other sculptor of +any epoch. + +Religious emotion must always call forth strong feeling, but the +strength is sometimes shown in terms of apparent restraint, at others it +shows itself in violent action. Athena Parthenos is as emotional as the +Santa Theresa and Savonarola, and Luther is as violent as the Crusaders. +The seventeenth century was a time when men thought it no shame to show +their feelings. The Puritans showed them as clearly as the Italians, +though in a less pleasant form. If to-day it is difficult to realize and +sympathize with the sentiment shown in Bernini’s Sant’ Andrea, or +Daniel, or Maria di Magdala, it is not because of our superiority, but +rather because we have lost a very precious sense and power of spiritual +levitation. Look at the Habakkuk. Is it not a splendid presentation of +the prophet who was burdened with the grievance which he beheld, who saw +for so long the righteous compassed about by a “bitter and hasty” race +that he felt the Lord would never respond to his cry? But even as he +complains the visible answer of the Lord appears, and the Angel with +playful tenderness pulls at his hair so that his face is upturned to the +light of Heaven, not any longer dark with earth’s despair, as he bids +him write the vision of the Lord’s judgment that shall not tarry—write +it so that he may run who readeth. And Habakkuk still points to the +iniquity that blackens the world and the angel points to the inevitably +approaching woe. It is superbly original. It is deeply felt. + +The St. Jerome in the Duomo at Siena is another very striking figure; if +it seems to most observers unpleasant, this is mainly because it does +not conform to the conventional and uncharacteristic way they are +accustomed to see Jerome represented. As a subject for artists he has +been treated far more often by painters than by sculptors, and in the +paintings the mere beauty of colour and of surroundings adds charms +which are uncharacteristic of, and distract from, the real interest of +the figure. When carved by Bernini, there is nothing but the figure to +consider—whether it be suggestive of the real man as we know him by his +writings or not. Probably most people if asked what image the name of +the saint brought to their minds would recall the print by Dürer or some +painting such as that by Catena in the National Gallery. But splendid as +the print and the painting are, it is only by a pleasant fiction and by +refusing to regard the truth that they can be thought to represent in +any way the Saint as he was among men. They show a very gentle old man +in the neatest and quietest of surroundings, peacefully writing his +comments on the scriptures. + +It can hardly be supposed that his contemporaries regarded Jerome +primarily as a peaceful and abstracted scholar. Surely Bernini did not, +but instead shows us the unhappy wanderer and ascetic monk. Scholarship +was only one phase, and among the people with whom he lived scarcely the +most important phase of St. Jerome’s life. To his contemporaries he +showed himself chiefly as an acrid controversialist taking a leading +part in the “strife of tongues.” Unhappy in his Pannonian home, he spent +a restless youth wandering over Europe, but instead of peace found only +momentary forgetfulness in pleasures, the remembrance of which brought +deep sorrow in his later years. Then he turned to asceticism and sought +by living as an anchorite in the desert to conform himself to the +teachings of his Lord. But the degradation of such a life, the unnatural +and disgusting view it took of the image of his Maker and the temple of +his soul, the morbid introspection and sterility of selfish +self-mortification, brought him trouble and pain, not calm, till, at +last, an old man, he died in Bethlehem thoroughly disheartened with the +iniquity of the world and the horrors resultant on the destruction of +Rome by the barbarians. + +Such is the man Bernini sets before us. The battered, wayworn feet; the +strong, coarse body; the ragged, unkempt hair show the life he led. The +face bending with closed eyes dreamily over the figure of the crucified +Christ betrays his holy, misdirected zeal. What he was, and what he +stood for, could not be shown more clearly than our sculptor has shown +it here. + +Equally fine, and in certain ways more beautiful, is the statue of +Daniel in the lions’ den, which Bernini made in 1656 for Cardinal Chigi, +who placed it with the Habakkuk in Santa Maria del Popolo. The youthful +and splendidly built figure rests on one knee, his hands upraised in +attitude of prayer, his head bent back with eyes wide open gazing +upwards. From one shoulder, beside his body and over his legs, falls in +wind-blown folds a single heavy mantle. A great lion crouches behind +him, licking his foot. In its perfect physical beauty, in its not +over-emphasised anatomy and in its entirely successful composition, by +which great movement is given the appearance of completeness and +stability, the figure is more closely allied to Bernini’s earlier works +than to the mystical passionate figures such as the Jerome or Mary of +Magdala or others of this period. It is unnecessary to dwell on the +beauty of the figure and the technical skill it displays, for these can +be seen by anyone whose eye and hand have been trained at all. + +There is one less obvious point, however, to which I wish to draw +attention, for it is as good an example as could be of what I have +mentioned above. I refer to the way the legs show through the heavy +drapery that covers them. The mantle does actually clothe the leg. It is +not a mere addition. It takes its shape and movement from the leg +beneath it. The one cannot be thought of without the other. Were the +statue destroyed, and did only the right hip or left knee remain, one +would instantly recognise what parts of the figure these were. But +classic though the figure is in general appearance—it might almost be +one of the Niobids—the feeling of absolute ecstatic faith is very +clearly given in the upturned face and the reaching arms.[11] Now there +have been times—great and noble times—when men did believe that God +would send angels to shut the mouths of lions, and when men felt no +fear, but only a carefree trust in His help if true innocency could be +found in them. + +Such work is not baroque, nor decadent, nor over-emotional, as it is +commonly and thoughtlessly said to be, but it is a very adequate and +convincing representation of a powerful and uplifting spiritual +condition. It is just as fine as the graver and more sombre figures of +Greece, or as the sad and ponderous figures of Michael Angelo. + +Of all the figures of this period in Bernini’s development the most +famous is the Saint Theresa (Plate IX). It is hopeless to express in +words the great beauty of this figure. This can no more be done than the +full perfection of any great poem can be rendered in a translation. The +work is perfect in itself, and what of this kind can be shown in +sculpture is here expressed with complete and ultimate adequacy. That +most people are startled and shocked when they first see the figure is +due to the fact that they do not think of what the scene really means, +and they are not accustomed to seeing scenes of divine significance +treated with perfect simplicity and pure faith. + +[Illustration: PLATE IX.] + +Not that such scenes ought not to be so treated, but few are the artists +who feel deeply enough or whose technique is finished enough to enable +them to represent a scene of this sort so clearly and beautifully. As a +result, the artist falls back on forms which have been repeated so often +that they have become conventional and no longer can give the beholder +the full impression of their meaning. No one is offended on seeing the +Son of God bleeding on the cross around which surges a host of idle +spectators, or at seeing Him in the manger before which all the nobles +of Florence kneel in various theatric attitudes. But Saint Theresa is a +figure new to them, and to have her shown in the crisis of her ecstasy +with other figures looking on from the walls of the chapel, offends +their “sense of propriety” and seems “paradoxical,” “perfervid” and +“inconsequent.”[12] + +Were this a fair criticism, a large number of the most beautiful works +of Christian art would fall under the same condemnation. Far more +paradoxical than Bernini’s figure are the representations of the +Marriage of Saint Catharine, and they are quite as unpleasing if thought +of in their literal sense. As for the figures looking at the Saint from +the “opera boxes” at the sides of the chapel, it must be remembered that +at this time most of the drama in Italy was founded on religious +subjects, and such dramatic representation made a very deep appeal to +men’s minds. The critics who find the Saint Theresa in bad taste do not +hesitate to form part of the audience when Christ’s Passion is played +among the hills of Oberammergau, and they will no longer be afraid to +render Bernini the homage that is his due when they cease lazily to +measure his work by conservative standards. The glory of a comet is not +measured by the Eddystone Light nor a miracle by the conventions of +ordinary society. + +One other point concerning this statue remains to be considered. A +recent critic[13] says that “there are many ecstasies, and Bernini has +chosen something that borders closely on the most displeasing.” In this +he expresses a common opinion, based, I believe, on a misconception, and +on ugly, puritanical prudishness. Possibly there are many ecstasies, but +religious ecstasy, the ecstasy of the Saint in joining herself to the +spiritual existence of Christ, and the pure and natural ecstasy of love +when self is lost in the future of the race, are as nearly as possible +identical. The Venus de Medici is far more displeasing than the Saint +Theresa. + +In one portion of the group Bernini certainly did fail, and in a way +that is surprising. Usually his figures of angels are successful, but +the one standing over Saint Theresa is assuredly very bad. Its figure is +unconvincing, and its face, with tilted nose and silly smile, is more +that of a Greek _paniskos_ than of a heavenly messenger. But +notwithstanding this blemish, no work by Michael Angelo or any other +sculptor ever made the beholder forget so completely the substance out +of which it is carved, and think only of the scene represented as +Bernini has done here. He has given the softness of life to the +snow-white stone. His hand and mind worked in perfect accord and +produced a work unrivalled in technique and of very great beauty. + +Another statue of similar character is the Beata Albertona. It is a +little less delicate in treatment and more emphatic in expression than +the Saint Theresa, but is, none the less, of very great beauty and +power. + +Were a man’s failures as worth study as his successes, I could mention +works by Bernini which are distinctly bad. The Maria di Magdala is one. +Though full of feeling, the figure of the Saint is coarse and clumsy. +But though a man’s defeats show, of course, the principles for which he +stood, his victories are more worth considering and are the fairest test +of him. A very false estimate of Michael Angelo would result if one +considered the Rondanini Pietà, the David, or the Christ in Santa Maria +sopra Minerva as of equal importance with his other works. + +It was not only in works in marble that Bernini showed his power as a +sculptor. He handled dark, impressive bronze with the same complete +understanding of its qualities and possibilities that he showed in +carving the gleaming Carrara marble. Such a work as the _Baldacchino_ in +St. Peter’s is beyond any words to praise. It is enormous, but not +clumsy, and sumptuous without being ornate. The most stupendous of his +bronze works is not, however, the _Baldacchino_, but the Throne, the +_Cattedra_ in the apse of St. Peter’s. It was in 1657, during the +pontificate of Alexander VII, that Bernini was ordered to carry out his +design for this work, and eight years later it was finished and +uncovered to the admiration of all Rome. + +This monument is too well known to need detailed description here, but +it is well here to recall its purpose, which was not for actual +ceremonial use by the Popes, but to serve as a frame, or strong-box, for +the ancient chair of carved ivory on which tradition said, and the whole +Catholic world then believed, St. Peter had himself sat. There in the +heart of the greatest Christian Church, raised above the soiling earth, +high in air for the thronging worshippers to behold, was to be the +visible and material sign of infallibility. Bernini alone had the +feeling that made him capable of such a task. Four magnificent figures +of Doctors of the Church support the chair—two of the Western church, +Saint Augustine and Saint Ambrose, and two of the Eastern, Saint +Chrysostom and Saint Athanasius. Stately great figures; on their +outstretched hands they hold the Throne with the ease that comes of +perfect faith, raising it up even as sixteen hundred years before the +Apostles had raised up this earth for the glory of God. + +In all these religious works by Bernini there is beside the expression +of the faith that begot them the expression of a decorative sense, +something dramatic. He delighted in movement and expression for the mere +sake of beauty of active form, and this feeling of joy in life, in the +spirit of movement, whether in Nature or in Man, Bernini reproduced in a +series of works which by themselves would make him unique among all +sculptors and which give Rome a distinction and character far more +decisive than her ruins or palaces and set her alone and apart from all +other cities. These are the fountains. + +The list of fountains is of amazing length. The Barcaccia in the Piazza +di Spagna, one in the Villa Mattei, one in the Vatican Gardens, another +in the Barberini Gardens, the Triton in the Piazza Barberini; the lovely +shell which used to be on the corner of the Via Sistina, but has been +destroyed to make way for modern improvements so called; in the +courtyard of the Palazzo Antamoro, in the Piazza Navona, and the broad +pool of the Fountain of Trevi. They have the infinite variety and +infinite pleasantness of Nature herself. By the side of the placid pool +whence the _ciociaras_ draw the water for their flowers, or where the +sparkling stream of the Triton shoots heavenward from the gray pavements +like a white crocus from the frosty ground in Spring; where the Nile, +the Ganges, the Plata and the Danube pour forth their incessant floods, +or where Neptune shepherds his foaming steeds over the rocks as they +dash down into the pool that if we once drink from our hearts evermore +yearn for the Eternal City—by each and all of his fountains our ears are +filled with the pleasant voices of the waters and our eyes with the +sight of the nymphs and nereids who gambolled among the watercourses +when the world was young. + +What the secret of their charm? No one ever understood the artistic +value of water as Bernini did. No one else ever held in check the full +stream and gave it back again the ripples, and spurts and sudden rushes +of its upper course and of its source. The angels must have washed his +spirit in the fountain of eternal youth to enable him to express the joy +which flowed through his veins in the undying music of the waves, +moulding and combining them to his intention as a musician makes the +rough strings of his instrument sing of the life that lies hidden in +them till his knowing touch gives them voice.[14] + +I have spoken of the groups representing classic myths, of the +innumerable statues motived by religion and of the fountains, but even +this huge mass of work does not come near completing the list of +Bernini’s output. The numerous portraits remain to be considered. Some, +such as the Constantine in St. Peter’s, were ideal, but most were of his +patrons and friends and were of very varied types. There were colossal +equestrian statues, ordinary busts, full-length figures and groups for +tombs, and they show that he possessed just as great skill in direct +portraiture as in more purely imaginative work. + +To carve or paint a successful portrait, two powers are absolutely +essential to the artist. On the one hand he must have the sympathy that +will enable him to comprehend the sitter’s character, and to see what +lines and expressions of the face express that character most clearly; +on the other he must have the power of suppressing his own individuality +and of lending his hand and eye, as it were, to the sitter to make the +portrait himself. If the artist lacks sympathy, he will produce a work +which may be correct in all detail of colour, line and modelling, but it +will only be a sort of mask; if he lacks the power of self-suppression, +the work will be unlike the sitter, even though true in detail, because +it will show not his character, but that of the artist. Bernini +illustrates these points with perfect precision, and as a result his +portraits are unsurpassed by those of any other artist of the +Renaissance and are far finer than the quaint efforts of the earlier +sculptors which many students of art admire with the enthusiasm of +decadence and a fatuous misunderstanding of both the value of art and +the aim of the artist. + +Just as it was fortunate for Turner that in his early years he was +forced to draw with painstaking accuracy, so was Fate kind to the young +Bernini in giving him to do, when he was but fourteen or fifteen years +old, the portraits of two well-known Prelates. Success in these meant +fame and an assured future for the boy. Like every genius he must have +felt, with perfect simplicity, with no conceit, his power; but what must +have been his feelings of tremulous satisfaction when, the busts +unveiled, the crowd of Cardinals and Prelates who were gathered to see +his work, broke into enthusiastic applause? The cheering words of those +long since silent voices echo again in our hearts as we look at these +busts of the Bishop Santoni and of Monsignor Montoya, for two more +perfect portraits can hardly be found. + +A mere child made them; a boy whom one could more easily think of +playing at marbles in the sunlit street; but instead his playground is +the Temple of the Lord and his toys the souls of men. The mere knowledge +of anatomy and the technical skill they show is most unusual for one so +young, but what shall be said of the spiritual insight of the artist who +carved these two bowed heads with their sweet, strong, grave faces? The +excellence of the ancient Greek, in certain forms of sculpture, has +given us his name as an adjective to express one kind of superlative +merit and these two busts can, with perfect accuracy, be called Greek. +They are as like as can be to the bronze bust by some unknown Grecian +sculptor which in the Museo dei Conservatori bears the name of Brutus. + +As in his other work, so in the making of portraits Bernini soon broke +away from traditional methods and gave his own spirit full sway. This is +evident in the bust of Costanza Buonavelli, his mistress, which is one +of the treasures of the National Museum in Florence. It is not only the +technical skill with which he gave the different qualities of the +pleated dress, the round soft neck and cheeks and the blown tresses of +waving hair that make this portrait so remarkable, but beyond this one +sees in it the artist’s own human love for the actual woman and his +delight in her as a suggestion of a beautiful work of art. This bust is +unique among his works, for the woman who inspired it then, with +thoughtless animal selfishness, killed the inspiration she had begotten. +The bust is the tombstone for the most sensitive part of Bernini’s +heart. + +Among the other busts of his early years are one of his great patron +Paul V (Borghese) and two of his steadfast friend Cardinal Scipio +Borghese.[15] They are all of them noteworthy, but the finest is the +first one he made of the Cardinal. In this the growth of Bernini’s +dramatic feeling is very plain and is shown in a technical way which he +repeated many times thereafter. It is this. He carves not alone the head +and a small portion of the breast, but he gives the whole upper part of +the torso and arms and skilfully suggests by the turn and position of +this part the action of the whole body, so that as one looks at this +bust of Scipio Borghese, one has the feeling of seeing not his head +alone but his whole figure. The wonderful realism with which Bernini has +rendered the crinkly silk cape and the rolling flesh of the fat face +with the lips just parted as though the burly Cardinal were whistling +for breath is obvious to the most casual observation; but realistic +though the bust is, Bernini was skilful enough to give chief emphasis to +the character of the sitter so that the impression that one takes away +with one is not of the external appearance of the figure so much as of +his nature and quality as a man. In many ways it closely resembles the +portrait of Pope Innocent by Velasquez. + +[Illustration: PLATE X.] + +Other portraits are to be seen not only in Rome, but in Modena, at +Versailles and even at Windsor; for, as Bernini’s fame spread, the great +people all sought him and even Louis XIV and Charles I were delighted to +have the artist give them that immortality which neither their deeds nor +position could assure them. One of the quieter and less dramatic works +is the beautiful bust of Monsignor Francesco Barberini. It is realistic +like the Cardinal Borghese, but the realism is made subordinate to a +higher aim and only used to emphasise the ideal character of the work. + +Numerous as are these effigies by Bernini of Popes and lesser men, there +are two which stand out above all the rest as unsurpassed in art and as +combining and illustrating more fully than any others the character of +the time, of the sitter and of the artist which, all together, made them +possible. They are of Francis I of Este, now in Modena, and of Louis XIV +(Plate X), at Versailles. The first was made in 1651, the second during +Bernini’s visit to Paris in 1665. Only Bernini was capable of +representing these two proud princes in all their splendour of +ornamental wig, and lace and armour. It demanded technique such as his +to make anything but a great lump of complex and ugly form out of such +settings for the head as these; and he succeeded, to the unquestioned +admiration of all time. + +That was an epoch when men liked theatrical display of all sorts, when +what in these colder days seems exaggerated expression was natural and +pleasing to people. Bernini knew and understood this, had often himself +been employed in writing plays or arranging stage scenery, and has +represented the two rulers just as they delighted to show and think of +themselves, adorned with all that was rich and splendid, haughty and +disdainful as was the nature of those endowed with the divine right of +Kings. Even more than in the case of the portrait of Cardinal Borghese +do these two busts seem to make us see the whole figure and yet they +have an appearance of lightness that is most surprising. Not to be made +again such busts—nor such men. Democracy, and a belief in equality as +absurd as that in Kingship was overweening, have snuffed out all such +pretensions, and have snuffed out the art too. But thanks to Bernini we +have the record of them. We see them in their moment of splendid +satisfaction and self-confidence, and made beautiful through mere +enjoyment of their bubble reputation. + +The final value of portraiture is that it should be characteristic of +the person depicted. No matter how great the skill shown in giving +Napoleon the appearance of a Greek athlete or Washington that of +Olympian Zeus, such works are only folly and waste. Bernini made no such +mistake, but with deep insight and unrivalled skill proved himself one +of the greatest portraitists of all time. + +I have spoken of Bernini’s versatility. I have considered in some detail +the sculpture by which he is best remembered. Of his painting not much +is left, and what remains is naturally not of any great value as art. +Still less is left of his work as an organiser of plays and arranger of +processions or carnival displays. A few drawings and engravings and some +slight accounts by contemporaries give us an idea of this work of his, +but it was the occupation of his more idle hours and is of little +moment. Of his architectural work a good deal is still to be seen, +though in many instances later workmen have added to or altered the +original structure, which was almost always skilful and big in +conception, though occasionally he made a mistake, as when he put the +towers—asses’ ears his contemporaries called them—on the Pantheon. + +The structure by which Bernini is best known is the double colonnade of +the Piazza of St. Peter’s. Of this his original sketch book still +exists.[16] It is an intensely interesting record of the different +schemes and plans which Bernini worked at till in the end he produced +the splendid simple and grand design which gives Rome the finest public +square in the world. + +There are several sheets of drawings in the book, some showing +Leonardesque studies of the relations between the proportions of the +human figure and those of architecture, others show views down the Borgo +from the church or looking up towards St. Peter’s with plans for the +rearrangement of the district, and some are views and designs of various +types of colonnade showing deep study of their perspective appearance. +But of all these sketches, there is one of far greater interest than all +the others, for it shows that insight into the deeper meaning of things +which made Bernini the supreme genius he was (Plate XXX). + +On this sheet are two similar drawings showing St. Peter’s and the +colonnade. Over these, as though they formed the head and arms of a +cross, is drawn a bearded figure, his head crowned by the dome of the +church, his arms outstretched on the colonnades and with his feet +crossed slightly one above the other and resting just where, at the +beginning of the Borgo, Bernini intended, as another of the sketches +makes plain, to put a building. There can be no doubt, after seeing this +drawing, that Bernini’s intention was to make the Piazza symbolic of +Christ and the Crucifixion. Evidently not a mere builder of houses this +man Gian Lorenzo Bernini, but somehow, and somewhence, he has got a +poet’s vision and he makes his mark in the world not merely by moulded +clay and shaped stones, but by shaping men’s hearts and moulding their +ideas. + +Such was Bernini, one of the great artists of the world. It is true that +he was revolutionary, but he destroyed not through ignorance or envy. He +destroyed merely that he might then create. The arts in his day were +strangled by academic rules and had become cold and lifeless. The +intensity with which he felt things gave him strength to break these +bonds and to make sculpture once more a means of conveying living +thoughts and emotions. He was like the butterfly which tears away the +stiff-plated chrysalis before it can spread its wings in the free air. +It is useless to try to explain his technical skill; he was born with +it, just as others are born with a keen sense of colour or a musical +ear, but it is certain that without it he could never have carved such +figures as the Saint Theresa or the portrait of Fonseca[17] which show +intense emotion brought on by loss of all sense of self in the +contemplation of the mystical meaning of the Passion. Such feeling could +not be shown by restrained action and quiet faces. Much movement was +necessary and the works are successful and beautiful because the feeling +shown is perfectly simple and natural and not forced and put on for the +sake of effect. + +Bernini’s technical power made him, however, a bad master for others to +imitate. Not that the work of his followers is any more inane than that +of the copiers of Michael Angelo or of those of any other great man, but +his peculiarities were such as are at least superficially easy to see. +Where he quite easily and simply distinguished between the appearance of +silk or flesh, his imitators wasted their energies on elaborate +arrangements, the only object of which was to show technical dexterity. +Where he carved figures that are racked and torn with feeling, the +imitators gave forms that are contorted and as unemotional as gymnasts. +But he is not to be blamed for their work. By no means was he one of the +blind leading the blind. He was the seer, the prophet, by odd chance +honoured in his own home, whose visions were so believed by his +followers that they vainly tried to see the like. What their eyes +strained towards and failed to see, his heart yearned for and gained. To +them praise was a prize to win, to him it was a spur to renewed effort +and further advance. He had faults, as who has not, but they were due to +his being a pathbreaker and having to find out for himself ways to carve +and show figures such as no sculptor before him had ever dreamed of; +they were not the faults of ignorance or stupidity. If it be well for us +that we judge not lest we be judged, so too is it well, should we judge +Bernini or other men, to judge not what there is in him of weakness or +failure, but what there may be of noble intention and high endeavour. +Doing this we shall see that Bernini, working always with bowed heart, +but with uplifted spirit, broke down the middle wall of partition +between art and life. + + + + + II. A COLLECTION OF SCULPTOR’S MODELS BY BERNINI + + +The clay models by Bernini, descriptions of which follow, form one of +the most interesting artistic records left us of the sculpture of the +Renaissance. Drawings made by the painters of that period to serve as +studies for their pictures are not uncommon, but the sketch-models made +by the sculptors are rare. + +This is because sculptors carved the marble without any previous models, +as Michael Angelo frequently did, or else that the models, being +cumbrous and of material that was easily destroyed, have, in the course +of years, been got rid of either intentionally or by accident. It may +seem strange to suggest that the clay of which the sculptors may have +made their studies is more liable to destruction than the paper used by +the painters, but it must be remembered that while nothing is more +durable than baked clay, air-dried clay is extremely perishable. Wax was +also used by the sculptors for their preliminary sketches, but this, +owing to expense, could never have served for work of any great size or +quantity; and even if less apt to complete disintegration than unbaked +clay, it is very liable to injury. + +[Illustration: PLATE XI.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XIII.] + +What precisely was the origin of this collection of Bernini’s models we +cannot tell; but it is our great good fortune that when they were made +there was some one, perhaps one of Bernini’s pupils, who cared for them +and saw to their being properly dried or baked so that they have +preserved their pristine freshness. It is also extremely fortunate that +their present owner realized their great beauty and extreme interest and +added them to the artistic treasures stored in America, where they will +serve in the ages to come to show students and sculptors a clear +reflection of the mind of one of the world’s greatest artists. + +In the Museum at Berlin are other models by Bernini, but there is, so +far as I know, no other collection, either public or private, that +approaches the Brandegee Collection in number, variety or excellence of +these works. In America I know of but one other model purporting to be +by Bernini. It is in the Morgan collection and represents Pope Urban +VIII, but it does not show a single touch by the master; it is an +imitation, copied from the statue in the Campidoglio at Rome. In the +collection of the late Mme. Edouard Aynard, sold in Paris, December 1–4, +1913, were two terra-cotta models of angels (lot 307) “attribuées au +chevalier Bernin, d’après les originaux du port Sant Ange, à Rome,” and +one equestrian statuette in the same material (lot 308), said to be the +“esquisse originale de la statue en marbre de Louis XIV, dans le parc de +Versailles, par le chevalier Bernin.” The two angels are certainly not +by Bernini; the portrait may be. + +From the artistic point of view these models are of the highest +importance, for they show with startling clearness the great fertility +of invention which characterized Bernini and the vivid way in which he +visualized the creations of his brain. There is not a trace of effort in +them, there is not a sign of rubbing out or doing over, but each group +or figure was obviously seen by him with the sharpness of a dream and +reproduced by his skilful fingers in the fresh clay while the impulse +and uplift of the vision was still on him. + +The knowledge of the purely technical side of the art of sculpture which +the models reveal is magnificent. The way, for instance, in which the +various planes are treated in the oval relief of the Virgin and Child +(Plate XXVI) is as subtle as, and very similar to, that of the reliefs +on the ancient vases from Arezzo, while the relation of draped portions +of the figures to the parts left nude, and the manner in which the body +beneath gives life and meaning to the covering drapery, is as fine as +any work by Pheidias. + +But the most fascinating and interesting characteristic of these +terra-cotta figures is that one sees in every least portion of them how +Bernini’s fingers, trained by long years of hard practice, played over +the wet clay like wavering flame and moulded the dead material to +enduring forms of beauty. Once more the old mythology comes true, and +Pygmalion, taking the rough material offered him by Mother Earth, +fondled it, and, warming it with the fires of his brain, gave it back +the life that lies asleep till the lover’s kiss wakes it once again. + + + DESCRIPTION OF THE MODELS + + + No. 1.—PLATE XI + + Seated female figure in high relief, wearing helmet, and heavily + draped; the left cheek rests on the back of the raised left hand. Feet + missing. + + For the tablet in memory of Carlo Barberini in Santa Maria d’Aracoeli, + Rome. + + Width 10 inches. + + + No. 2.—PLATE XII + + Figure of Longinus, in St. Peter’s. In the round, and gilded. + + Height 20¾ inches. + +[Illustration: PLATE XIV.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XV.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XVI.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XVII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XVIII.] + + + No. 3.—PLATE XIII, _a_ + + Two _putti_, for the decoration of the piers in St. Peter’s. High + relief. The scale of measurement is scratched on the right edge. The + wings are broken from the lower figure. + + Height 11⅛ inches. + + + No. 4.—PLATE XIII, _b_ + + Another two _putti_, also for St. Peter’s. The scale of measurement is + scratched on the left edge. The wings are broken from the upper + figure. + + Height 11⅜ inches. + + + Nos. 5, 6, 7, 8.—PLATES XIV, XV + + Four heavily draped bearded male Saints, for the _Ciborio_ in the + _Cappella del Sacramento_ in St. Peter’s. + + The figures stand on thin, square plinths, one of which (Height 10⅜ + inches; PLATE XIV, _a_) is unmarked, but on the other three are the + names _Bartolomeo_ (Height 10¼ inches; PLATE XV, _b_), _Tomaso_ + (Height 10⅜ inches; PLATE XIV, _b_), and _Filippo_ (Height 10 inches; + PLATE XV, _a_). + + The heads of all four are turned to the left, and the figures rest + their weight on the right leg. The left arm of the Bartolomeo is gone, + but was outstretched; the others all stretch out their right arm. + + + No. 9.—PLATE XVI + + Bas-relief with half-figures of four men, and traces of architectural + background. + + For the side wall of the _Cappella Borghese_ in Santa Maria della + Vittoria, Rome. + + Width 17¼ inches. + + + No. 10.—PLATE XVII + + Half figure of a Triton holding a draped woman on his shoulders. + + For a fountain. The head and arms of the woman are gone. + + Height 19½ inches. + + + No. 11.—PLATE XVIII + + Front part of the head of a bearded man. + + For the Saint Jerome in the _Cappella Chigi_ in the Duomo of Siena. + + Height 13½ inches. + + + No. 12.—PLATE XIX, _a_ + + Model (head missing) for the kneeling Angel on the left of the + _Ciborio_ in the _Cappella del Sacramento_, St. Peter’s. + + Height 11 inches. + + + No. 13.—PLATE XX, _a_ + + Another model for the same figure. Tip of right wing missing. + + Height 11¼ inches. + + + No. 14.—PLATE XX, _b_ + + Angel on the right of the _Ciborio_ in the _Cappella del Sacramento_. + + Other models for these two Angels are mentioned by Fraschetti (p. + 394), who also suggests that this angel on the right is not by + Bernini, but “perhaps by Paolo Bernini, touched up by his father.” + + I do not feel tempted to agree with this idea of Signor Fraschetti; + there is no doubt whatever that this model of the right-hand angel is + by Gian Lorenzo himself. Height 13⅛ inches. + + + No. 15.—PLATE XXI + + Nude figure of an Angel holding the Crown of Thorns. The head and feet + are gone. The weight rests on the right leg. + + Sant’ Andrea delle Fratte, Rome. + + Height 13¼ inches. + + + No. 16.—PLATE XXII + + Angel holding the Crown of Thorns. + + This is the final model of the figure in Sant’ Andrea delle Fratte. + + The action of the legs is the reverse of that in 15. Height 17½ + inches. + + + No. 17.—PLATE XXIII, _a_ + + Model for the Angel holding the Scroll. The tips of the wings are + missing. + + In Sant’ Andrea delle Fratte. + + Height 11¾ inches. + + + No. 18.—PLATE XIX, _b_ + + Another model for the same figure as No. 17; lacks the right leg, the + head and most of the wings. + + Height 11⅛ inches. + + + No. 19.—PLATE XXIV, _a_ + + Angel, perhaps for the ecstasy of Saint Theresa in _Santa Maria della + Vittoria_, Rome. Right hand missing. + + Height 11½ inches. + + + No. 20.—PLATE XXIII, _b_ + + Angel, draped, right leg bare, turning to the left. Part of right wing + missing. + + Height 11½ inches. + +[Illustration: PLATE XIX.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XX.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXI.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXIII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXIV.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXV.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXVI.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXVII.] + + + No. 21.—PLATE XXIV, _b_ + + Angel, draped, kneeling, head turned to right, right arm (hand + missing) raised, left arm with open hand stretching downwards and + outwards. + + Height 11¾ inches. + + + No. 22.—PLATE XXV + + Standing male figure, in high relief. Drapery hangs from the right + shoulder, leaving torso bare but covering the legs with heavy folds. + The left arm hangs down, and there was a palm branch in the now + missing hand. The right arm is bent up with the hand over the chin. + The head bends down and to the right. The figure rests its weight on + the left leg. + + The right side of the plaque is curved; the left side is straight, and + on it is scratched a scale of measurements. + + Height 16⅝ inches. + + + No. 23.—PLATE XXVI + + Oval bas-relief of the Virgin seated and looking down to right while + holding the Child in her lap. High relief. + + Very sketchy, but the most masterly of all these models. + + Height 11 inches. + + + No. 24.—PLATE XXVII, _b_ + + Draped, standing female figure. She bends forward, turning to the left + with arms (right arm missing) raised to support a slab that rests + across her shoulders. The weight rests on the left leg. At her feet + suggestion of a cuirass. + + Study for the base of some monument such as the obelisk in the Piazza + della Minerva. (Cf. Fraschetti, pp. 300–303.) + + Height 8½ inches. + + + No. 25.—PLATE XXVII, _a_ + + Standing angel, heavily draped; the left knee is bent sharply + backwards. The right arm is bent across the breast, the left arm + (forearm missing) bent across the body lower down. The wings are + missing. + + Height 8⅝ inches. + + + No. 26 + + The Magdalen kneeling, and grasping the foot of the Cross. + + This figure is not by Bernini, and shows clearly the difference + between the work of a master and that of an imitator. + + Height 10 inches. + + + No. 27 + + Study of a hand. + + Length 8 inches. + + + + + III. BERNINI’S DESIGNS FOR THE PIAZZA OF ST. PETER’S + + +The pen and ink sketches by Bernini for the construction and adornment +of the piazza in front of the Vatican, together with the surrounding +buildings, deserve to be more widely known than they are at present.[18] +Any details regarding the history and growth of this part of Rome are of +the deepest interest to those who study the intellectual development of +mankind. Did we possess any record of the reasons why Pericles and his +advisers placed the temples and other buildings on the Acropolis of +Athens just as they did, we should have a clearer understanding of the +character and ideals of Athens than we now have. So a study of these +drawings by Bernini will show very distinctly that the present form of +the piazza is due to no mere thoughtless and haphazard erection of +colonnades and fountains, but is the result of a deeply considered plan +and illustrative of a very large idea. + +The drawings are carefully done with pen and ink on fourteen sheets of +paper which were numbered by some old-time owner. These sheets have had +the edges trimmed. Ten are, with slight variations, 14 by 6¾ inches. The +others are, as will be noted later, of different sizes. All, however, +judging by the paper and method of drawing, belong unquestionably to the +same series. The drawings were mounted and bound together by the +previous owner. + +[Illustration: PLATE XXVIII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXIX.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXX.] + +The history of the drawings can only be guessed at. In this connection +the following facts are to be noted. Bernini was officially appointed +architect of the _Fabbrica_ of St. Peter’s in 1680. After him Luigi +Vanvitelli was head architect. With Vanvitelli there worked Andrea-Vici. +In 1817 Vici left by his will to his friend the sculptor Canova drawings +by Bernini representing the burial of the Countess Matilda, and Louis +XIV on horseback. This legacy shows Vici to have owned original drawings +by Bernini, and it is not improbable they had been given him by +Vanvitelli. By the same will Vici left to his grandson Busiri his name +and his studio, with all the original drawings by various masters +therein contained. Consequently it is not a rash hypothesis that these +drawings of the piazza came from Vanvitelli to Vici, and so to +Busiri-Vici. Finally they were sold at auction in Rome in 1903. They are +now in the Brandegee Collection. + + + DESCRIPTION OF THE DRAWINGS + + + No. 1.—PLATE XXVIII + + This drawing shows the Orb; the Christian symbol of the world, + surmounted by a cross. + + The cross with the head and arms ending in curves like apses suggests + the plan of a church, and the following drawings show clearly that the + Orb and Cross were the fundamental idea in Bernini’s mind when he + planned the _piazza_. + + + No. 2.—PLATE XXVIII + + This is on a square piece of paper, similar in size to No. 1, and at + present mounted on the same sheet at the left of No. 1. It shows the + figure of a bearded man with arms outstretched as though on a cross. A + curved dotted line stretches from hand to hand over the head and drops + about an inch perpendicularly below each hand. This dotted line is a + suggestion of the existing colonnades. + + That the figure is thought of as being on a cross is borne out by + sketches that follow and also by the dot in the palm of the left hand + which possibly represents a nail. + + The sharp, broken lines with which the figure is drawn are + characteristic of Bernini. + + + No. 3.—PLATE XXIX + + An outline plan of the church with the colonnades in front. It is to + be noted the latter start at the corners of the façade of the church + and project a short distance parallel to the main axis before curving + to each side. + + Size 6½ × 8¾ inches. + + + No. 4.—PLATE XXIX + + Similar to No. 3, but in greater detail. The figure of a bearded man + represented within the plan of the church in the attitude of + crucifixion. In the left arm of the colonnade is drawn the sun and in + the right arm the moon and stars. + + This is pasted in the book at the left of No. 3. + + Size 6⅝ × 8¾ inches. + + + No. 5.—PLATE XXX + + This shows the same crucified figure as before. Over the head and + below each hand is the dotted line seen in No. 2. Behind the head and + arms is drawn with dots the elevation of St. Peter’s, the Vatican and + the colonnades. + + + No. 6.—PLATE XXX + + Similar figure to the preceding, but with the arms contorted so as to + follow the straight portion of the colonnade (shown in No. 3) before + following the curve. Behind the head the dotted outline of St. Peter’s + and behind the figure’s left arm the colonnade and Vatican buildings + laid in with dots and a few lines. + + No. 5 is at the right of No. 6, and the size of the sheet is 14 × 6¾ + inches. + + It should be noted that the figure is so placed in these two drawings + that the dome of the church suggests a bishop’s mitre. + + + No. 7.—PLATE XXXI + + Outline elevation of the north half of the façade of St. Peter’s and + the north colonnade, rising behind which is shown the Vatican Palace. + + On the left half of the sheet are faint pencil lines showing the south + side of the colonnade and façade. + + The sky is touched in with bluish white. + + Size 14¼ × 6½ inches. + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXI.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXIII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXIV.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXV.] + + No. 8.—PLATE XXXII + + Two drawings of the north colonnade. These are similar to the + preceding, but more elaborate (with shadows washed in in gray), as + shown by dotted lines drawn to the eyes of outlined figures from + various points. + + We find here the architect’s intention regarding the view from + different positions. + + Size 14⅜ × 6¾ inches. + + On the back of the sheet is a sketch of the door of St. Peter’s with + the balcony where the Pope used to appear. I do not feel sure that + this is by Bernini. There is also another sheet with a more detailed + drawing of this door. + + + No. 9.—PLATE XXXIII + + Similar to No. 8, but still more elaborate and larger; there is only + one drawing on the sheet. + + In this design Bernini has altered the line of the colonnade. Instead + of having, as in the preceding drawing, a straight portion projecting + from the church, he has here drawn the colonnade in one large curve + from the church outwards, putting an elaborate entrance to the Vatican + Palace near the church. This entrance would have led to the Cortile di + San Damaso. + + Size 14 × 6⅝ inches. + + + No. 10.—PLATE XXXIV + + Slight outline sketch of the outer end of the north arm of the + colonnade, which is here made two-storied. + + Size 13⅝ × 6⅜ inches. + + + No. 11.—PLATE XXXV + + Interior of inner end of north arm of colonnade, showing the stairway + as it exists at present. Size 14½ × 6⅜ inches. + + + No. 12.—PLATE XXXVI + + Two sketches; one showing the plan, the other the elevation, of the + Cortile di San Damaso. + + Size 13⅝ × 6⅝ inches. + + + No. 13.—PLATE XXXVII + + View of the façade of St. Peter’s with both colonnades, which are + two-storied. The sky is touched in with bluish white. + + The buildings of the Vatican are also shown,—those on the right exist, + those on the left are imaginary. + + Size 14⅝ × 6¾ inches. + + + No. 14.—PLATE XXXVIII + + View looking east from the front of St. Peter’s. + + On each side are the ends of the colonnades; they are in two stories, + that on the right crowned with low clock-towers similar to the “asses’ + ears” once placed by Bernini on the Pantheon. + + Beyond the piazza is the _Borgo_ much reconstructed and made + symmetrical. In the distance the Castel Sant’ Angelo. + + Size 14⅜ × 6⅝ inches. + + + No. 15.—PLATE XXXIX + + Two sketches in pen, washed with sepia, of the Borgo, looking towards + St. Peter’s. + + These show different methods of treating the north arm of the + colonnade. The one on the right shows the colonnade closing the view + up the Borgo, the other shows an opening carrying the eye beyond and + between St. Peter’s and the Vatican. + + Size 14½ × 6½ inches. + + The buildings shown exist in much the same form to-day. Even the + fountain still serves. + + + No. 16.—PLATE XL + + Plan of the piazza showing how it was intended to symbolize the orb of + the world suggested on No. 1. + + In this sketch we see the circle within which is a dotted square. + Within the square is a figure with arms and legs outstretched along + the diagonals. At the top is written over a faint pencil outline of + the church (perhaps not original) _San Pietro_. At the bottom is + written twice _Piazza Rusticucci_ and on a piece of paper pasted on is + the plan of a building shown in No. 14,—one of the buildings intended + for the reconstructed _Borgo_. + + On the right and left of the figure are indicated the _Porta Angelica_ + and the _Porta Cavalleggieri_. + + The dotted square within the circle is divided into quarters in which + is written _Asia_, _Europa_, _America_, _Affrica_. + + Size 7¾ × 8⅝ inches. + + + These are the plans showing Bernini’s ideas regarding the Piazza of + St. Peter’s. From a study of them we see how the circular piazza + itself was intended to represent the world at large, while the + colonnade symbolized the arms of the Cross. Crowning all was the great + Church, founded by Him whose arms could embrace the whole earth, and + from whose doors should stream to every quarter the promise of hope + and love for which He died. + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXVI.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXVII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXVIII.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XXXIX.] + +[Illustration: PLATE XL.] + + + + + ASPECTS OF THE ART OF SCULPTURE + + + + + I. THE ART OF PORTRAITURE + + +All students have noticed the similarity in style between certain +Egyptian portraits and other works by ancient Roman as well as +Florentine artists, and the resemblance in style that exists between +Greek and Venetian portraits. Also there is a marked dissimilarity +between the Egyptian-Roman-Florentine Group on the one hand and the +Greek-Venetian Group on the other; and these two facts suggest the +conclusion that the art of portraiture consists in something more than +the mere photographic imitation in stone, or with paint, of the human +face or figure. Were such imitation the essential factor in the art the +only differences in portraits of different epochs would be those of +ethnographic character. The special characteristics of portraiture as of +the other arts at any given period are the result of the intellectual +and material condition of the people to whom the artist belongs. Style, +that is the distinguishing quality of the work of art, the quality which +differentiates it from a work of another period or race, is the result, +largely unconscious, of the relation of the artist to life and its +effect upon him. The material, the means by which he gives expression to +his endeavour at creation or representation, is of minor importance. + +The Sheik-el-Beled (Plates XLI, XLII) and the bust of Scipio so called +(Plate XLIII) might almost be portraits of brothers; and the family is +increased by a little Egyptian head in the museum in Venice, and by some +of the men immortalised by Donatello. So too Pericles as we see him in +the bust by Kresilas seems separated by but a narrow margin from +Giorgione’s Knight of Malta. And yet in blood, traditions, circumstances +and hopes these men were the poles asunder. + +How then is this likeness of certain portraits to one another to be +explained unless by the existence of some connection dependent on the +temper of the artist? + +There is still another curious likeness and another difference to be +noted among the carved and painted portraits of various epochs and +schools. While the head of Corbulo is unlike that of Pericles in the +æsthetic impression it gives, and that of Angelo Doni by Raphael also is +æsthetically unlike the Duke of Norfolk by Titian, still the carved +heads have a common bond as have also the painted ones.[19] They do not +make the two broad groups into which I have, for the sake of making +plain a general idea, divided portraits æsthetically similar, but they +make plain when understood that painted portraits are necessarily +different from carved ones—different in more than the mere fact that one +is round and the other flat. The difference springs deep down from what +is possible to attain by either art. The sculptor of the Pericles and +the painter of the Norfolk both set before us the grave, elegant and +stately face of a bearded man in middle life. Neither artist distracts +our attention by bravura or technique or by realistic emphasis of +detail. Though stylistically similar, these works still do not impress +our minds in the same way. The following pages will be clearer if I say +at once that this differing mental impression arises because in busts +our attention is drawn chiefly to the mouth while in painted portraits +it is turned on the eyes. This is due to the special laws of the +technique by which the works are produced; given a painter and sculptor +with the same point of view and the same mental tendencies, the +portraits produced by them, even of the same person, though evidently +expressing the same intellectual qualities both of artist and of sitter, +are in modes of expression and certain external aspects necessarily +unlike. In pursuing this investigation and in discussing the existence +and nature of the various laws the governance of which I have suggested, +the history of the rise and spread of portraiture must be kept in mind. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLI.] + +Before the intention of the maker of portraits can be comprehended the +motives that lead to the desire of the public or of private individuals +to possess such work must be understood. In the main they are two,—one +religious and one historic; to these may be added a third, that of +sentiment and friendship. The religious cause is best illustrated by +Egyptian statues, of which a large proportion were made to be placed in +tombs. These are the earliest portraits of western origin which exist in +sufficient numbers to afford a sound basis of criticism. The well-known +dependence, in that country, of these works on religious prescriptions +needs hardly more than passing mention. That the soul of dead mortals +might, returning to this earth and to the tomb, find its accustomed +corporeal dwelling place, portrait statues of the deceased were placed +in the sepulchral chamber. + +Holding this belief, it was only natural that the sculptors often made +statues life-size, and as closely resembling the dead original as +possible, in order that the soul might find a shelter exactly similar to +its original living one. Had they not been so made, the soul would have +been troubled in its search. Work such as this was of course expensive +and the mass of the people had to content themselves with smaller and +less elaborate figures or with mere glazed figurines. But the more rare +elaborate works show the ideal and serve as a sure guide in studying the +conceptions and hopes of this or any people—just as the gold treasure +from Mycenæ is of much greater value than all the terra-cotta vases in +showing the life and thoughts of the time. + +Other portraits of Pharaohs and their queens, of priests and generals, +were carved on temple walls or set up to commemorate striking events, +and these also were made realistic because of the egotistic idea that +called them into being. Unless the person portrayed was carved +realistically the commemorative value of the monument was lessened. +These religious and commemorative ideas influenced the sculptors in +their choice of material. Both the desire to make an enduring image of +the dead for the sake of the soul that might return and the wish to make +the memory of the person as enduring as possible led the sculptors to +make use of the hardest stones; stones such as do not lend themselves to +sculpture and such as are never used where the art develops in +accordance with cultivated taste rather than special demand.[20] But +though exactness of likeness was tirelessly sought for by the Egyptians +(I refer of course to the earlier epochs before the influx of Greek or +Roman ideas), it was not attained with the same success as in later days +by the Romans and Florentines. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLII.] + +This failure was in part due to the use of unyielding material, such as +granite and basalt. Successful representation, in such stone, of the +finer details of facial form, was practically impossible, and +furthermore, owing to the dark and variegated colour of these stones, +would have been scarcely noticeable could it have been attained. Hence +the sculptors were led to practise a certain broadness of treatment that +makes their work seem, to careless observation, like the Greek; but +though one of the chief charms of Greek work is broadness, it is the +outcome of very different causes and, if carefully studied, is seen to +produce a very different effect from that of Egyptian work.[21] + +Any phenomenon is due to mixed causes, and it must not be supposed that +the use of hard materials alone led to breadth of treatment. The +conventional position of the figures in Egyptian art (due in large +measure to various non-æsthetic causes) was suited better by a broad and +conventionalised treatment of the face than by more particular niceness +in the rendering of its detail.[22] Religious feeling led to the placing +of quietly posed statues in the tombs, and as regards the figures of the +great rulers whose word was law, attitudes expressive of the calm that +results from absolute power were best fitted to express the current +beliefs. These attitudes were also restrained in consequence of the +refractory nature of the stones used. + +It is interesting to consider what would have been the development of +sculpture in Egypt had the art been freed from the necessity of +conforming to the demands of religion and contemporary history. One +searches in vain among the masses of Egyptian sculpture for the +expression of the individual sculptor’s emotions. We do not even know +the names of the sculptors. They were not noted by their contemporaries +nor did interest in their work lead them to sign it. Sculpture in that +antique land was not a fine art in the sense of being chosen by men of +special tastes and feeling to express the enjoyment felt by them in +certain forms. It was a highly developed handicraft, a technique pursued +by rule. As illustrative of the character, the life and the thought of +the people portrayed it is allied to Roman work rather than to Greek. + +Religion is seen to influence portraiture in another way. Many pictures, +the subjects of which are religious, by Botticelli, Ghirlandaio and +others, are filled with portraits, but these are essential to the +composition, and are thought of as figures first, as portraits +afterwards. But there are many sacred pictures of the Renaissance in +which, with varying degrees of simplicity and frankness, a portrait of +the donor of the painting is inserted not as an essential part of the +composition but because of the desire of the donor to secure lasting +recognition of the fact that he had fulfilled his religious vows and +duties. It was an accepted proof of respectability in this world and +might possibly help in the next. Neither in Egypt nor in this class of +pictures of the Renaissance are the works thought of primarily from the +point of view of being artistic reproductions of the human face, but +they are means to an end. They are in fact symbols. Work of this sort is +so rare in Greek or Roman art that it may be considered as practically +non-existent.[23] + +The personal portrait, the portrait made for the sake of gratifying the +self-esteem of the person represented, is well exhibited in Egyptian +work in the bas-reliefs illustrating the conquests of the Pharaohs and +in the colossal statues erected in a spirit of pride and +self-glorification such as was exhibited again by the Romans. Such +portraits as these are a certain indication of the all but universal +desire for glory and fame. They are an expression of the same confident +spirit that leads the owners of great buildings to carve their names +over the entrance and are produced in large numbers only during periods +when individuals seek eagerly for personal recognition. + +Such periods occur when large stores of money are possessed by private +persons; then religious beliefs grow faint, in men’s if not in +women’s[24] minds, and the quiet and enduring appreciation of a few +objects gives way to the excited pursuit of constant novelty in +enjoyment. Consequently instead of being content with philosophic +moderation men attribute an untrue value to mere possession, and, since +money can buy many material things, come to the false conclusion that he +who has the most is to be ranked among the world’s greatest sons. + +But the qualities needful for amassing riches are by no means rare and +in the main are correlated with lack of interest in the Past and with +undeveloped imagination. Hence ignorant of, or at least not sympathetic +with, the more subtle but more effective types of men who work not with +money but with personal character, the wealthy naturally come to think +of themselves as individually interesting and important, and in +consequence their portraits are made in every shape and size. Such works +cannot, as regards the person portrayed, be of much interest, and are +usually ugly, because the lives and occupations of people invariably +affect the forms and expressions of their faces. The exceptions to this +rule are the portraits of such men as Lorenzo dei Medici, or others of +our own day who use their inherited or acquired wealth in the patronage +of the arts and sciences—who use their powers indirectly for the +cultivation of ideals. + +Such portraits as these are of varying character. They may be public, +put up, that is, by a grateful and flattering people to commemorate a +ruler or chief citizen, as in the case of Gattamalata in Padua and +Colleone in Venice; or they may be of purely private interest and +intended only for the eyes of the successive generations of the family +to which the person depicted belongs. But public or private, in the one +case as in the other, the desire for them being due to personal regard +and love of fame, an accuracy in the reproduction of feature is sought +that distinguishes them clearly from portraits made with other less +worldly motives. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLIII.] + +It is known of course that this desire for fame stirred the hearts of +oriental potentates long centuries before the beginning of connected +history. But in that classic part of the ancient world with which we are +intimately related, it does not become specially noticeable till the +time of Alexander. It was an active factor in life during the existence +of the Roman world, and again in the Renaissance. One of the phenomena +most indicative of this aspiration is the character of the monuments +placed on graves, and particularly the inscriptions on such stones. On +the Greek grave stones we find often enough the name of the deceased but +rarely if ever any intimate notice of his life. On Roman and Renaissance +monuments, on the other hand, the length of life, and the honorific +offices held, are all given with wearisomely full detail. + +Portraits made for friendship’s sake are uncommon and do not, I believe, +occur before the time of the Renaissance. Then one hears of friends +sending their portraits to one another. In Rome a somewhat similar +custom was practised to a certain extent, as is shown by the portraits +on rings and cameos. Such work, meant as it was for personal adornment, +must have been, at least in part, inspired by the tender regard of +friend for friend. But it seems not to have been a common custom in the +ancient world; just why it would be hard to tell, for no more inviolable +friendships have ever been known than those told of in ancient history +and drama, nor more tender feeling than is expressed in many of the +inscriptions on ancient tombstones. Perhaps it was that the house +architecture of those days was but little adapted to the displaying of +such objects, and the collection by private individuals of things was +but little practised except in Rome, and even there collectors were +comparatively few. However this may be, the fact remains that the +portraits of the ancient world were in the main religious or +commemorative, and the idea of friendship being maintained or +strengthened by the possession of the dumb semblance of absent dear ones +seems to have grown and spread with the Christian religion. + +At first sight it appears as if there were three ways of making +portraits—the sculptor’s, the painter’s, and the writer’s. It is not +however in any true sense a portrait that a writer sets before us. This +is beyond his power to accomplish. He is unable, that is, to give +various readers such impression of the look and carriage of the person +described that they can inevitably recognise him in the passing crowd. +Continuous and sequent events may be described by words, but they cannot +show instantaneously isolated images. Masters of style can call up +visions to the mind by well-selected epithets, but such visions are +typical rather than actual; and they are of scenes of considerable +scope, or of actions of dramatic quality, rather than accurate images of +facial form and expression such as in the only true sense of the word, +can be called portraits. + +So far as art in the sense of reproduction is concerned, it is evident +that language can be used for description, for suggestions of moods and +general conditions, but not for showing in a sharp and quickly defined +manner a given scene or object at a given moment. When Shelley speaks of + + The obscene ravens, clamorous o’er the dead; + The vultures to the conqueror’s banner true + Who feed where Desolation first has fed, + And whose wings rain contagion,— + +[Illustration: PLATE XLIV.] + +he calls to mind most vividly conditions consequent on war, but before +no two readers of the lines will the same visions rise. To see such +horrors as Shelley writes of, presented so that all beholders will +regard them in the same way, we must turn to such a work as Turner’s +Rizpah.[25] + +The Greeks, it is interesting to note in this connection, recognised +this limitation of the power of words and rarely tried to delineate the +actors in their poetry and drama by other means than the description of +traits of character. It may be said that the Greeks also did not attempt +landscape in their writing. True, but we have every reason to know that +the Greek mind was not interested seriously in beauties of landscape, +while we know that it was deeply concerned with the characters and +actions of individuals. Landscape was not studied by the Greeks as an +end in itself, whereas portraiture was. Hence the absence of an attempt +at portraiture in their literature by other means than description of +character is the natural result of their mental tendencies. Such +description can of course be accomplished by language with greater +certainty than by sculpture or painting. It can give such an impression +of the nature of a person that there is no more room for doubt +concerning the qualities that constitute that nature than there is +concerning the colour of eyes that have been put on canvas by some +painter. Take any example and it will appear that when an author tries +to stir the imagination to form an image of a character, he does it +mainly by describing carefully his nature rather than his personal +appearance, and when he attempts to do more than this, he suggests +inevitably a different vision to every reader. Shakespeare’s sonnets are +sufficient evidence of the truth of these statements. + +I should not wish to imply that writers, even the greatest of them, do +not sometimes attempt to depict persons by elaborate descriptions, but a +comparison of any two illustrated editions of an author will show my +contention to be correct. The inefficiency of the means and the +inadequacy of the result has been recognised by the masters of +literature. And it needs but to compare a word portrait with a painted +one of the same person to be convinced of the painter’s greater power in +this work. Take Shelley’s lines describing the crazed musician: + + There the poor wretch was sitting mournfully + Near a piano, his pale fingers twined + One with the other, and the ooze and wind + Rushed through an open casement, and did sway + His hair, and starred it with the brackish spray; + His head was leaning on a music book, + And he was muttering, and his lean limbs shook; + His lips were pressed against a folded leaf + In hue too beautiful for health, and grief + Smiled in their motions as they lay apart— + As one who wrought from his own fervid heart + The eloquence of passion, soon he raised + His sad meek face and eyes lustrous and glazed + And spoke—sometimes as one who wrote and thought + His words might move some heart that heeded not + If sent to distant lands.— + +As a portrait the failure of these verses lies in the fact that the +attention of the reader is hurried on from point to point like a +storm-driven bird and never allowed to rest. Look, for half the time it +takes to read the lines, at Titian’s Concert, and you have a much more +definite image of a musician. It is just because of this unrest of the +attention, due to continued introduction of some new feature of +importance, that poets and writers of prose are much more successful +when they endeavour to reproduce a landscape, for it is a natural +tendency, as we look at any scene of nature, for the eyes to wander over +the hills and far away. They cannot seize the essential points +instantaneously and they cannot apprehend the interrelation of the +details as when they look at a person’s face and figure. + +Sometimes the poet—it is generally a poet, for the epithets that poets +use are apt to be more carefully chosen and so have greater graphic +force than those of prose writers—seems to succeed in portraiture, but +if you will consider closely, it will be seen that the success is +fictitious. It is due to our having a ready-formed picture of the +character of the person described which is suited by the poet’s words, +as in Browning’s lines: + + You know we French stormed Ratisbon, + A mile or so away + On a little mound Napoleon stood + On our storming day + With neck outthrust, you fancy how, + Legs wide, arms locked behind, + As if to balance the prone brow + Oppressive with its mind. + +But to one who had never seen a picture of Napoleon what image would +these lines give? Or, take Lowell’s lines on Lincoln. Not a word in them +concerning the outward appearance of the Martyr Chief; but the attempt, +successful to the uttermost, is made to impress on the reader’s mind +what there was of him to think of, not to look at: + + Wise, steadfast in the strength of God and true. + +These epithets offer no suggestion that can be visualised, nor is there +when we note + + ... that sure mind’s unfaltering skill + And supple tempered will + That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust. + +And then finally, to sum up: + + Here was a type of the true elder race, + And one of Plutarch’s men talked with us face to face. + +Vivid and eloquent as all this is, it offers no picture of the tall, +gaunt President. It is but a suggestion of mental conditions. It does +not show the deep-set eyes, sorrowful with the sorrows of two races, or +the firm mouth lined with the humour that helped him to bear his burden +of care. Plutarch himself does not show us Cæsar, or Pericles, or +Demosthenes or any other worthy, as the sculptors do. + +Possibly it might be suggested that in such poems as those quoted the +writer had no intention of giving a suggestion of the outer husk that +hides the inner man; but there is one class of poems—the love lyrics—in +which the passion-driven bard would surely, could it be accomplished, +give the immortality of portraiture to the beloved. But those “dear dead +women,” the ever-renewing Spring brood of Sappho, Chloris, Lesbia, +Lalage and Doris, are but the vague dwellers of dreamland. Sometimes +they are dark and sometimes fair; they have cheeks that shame the rose, +and eyes whose glance overwhelms as does the bolt of Jove; their brows +are white as driven snow, and a nest for little loves is in their +bosom—but can we ever be sure that we recognise from such description +each particular Lesbia as, waiting and watching at the corner, we +hopefully murmur “She comes, she’s here, she’s past”? Such words as +these form a portrait only for that one love-stung heart that beats the +overtone to the note of Lesbia’s footfall. + +No, the writer cannot, in any adequate sense, place before us portraits. + +Literature being excluded as a means of portraiture, it remains to +consider sculpture and painting. In order to understand why painted and +carved portraits showing similar types with equal distinctness and +emphasis produce very different effects on the observer and hold his +attention in different ways, study must be made of the different results +possible to attain by these arts. If these general propositions in +regard to the two arts be true, the demands and characteristics of +portraiture will become plainer. + +The fundamental distinction between sculpture and painting lies in the +fact that the former concerns itself not always, but primarily, with +light and shadow and fully modelled forms, while the latter deals +chiefly with colour. Furthermore, painting works in two dimensions, +while sculpture exercises herself with three. Hence, figures in +positions that are much contorted or groups that are complexly organised +in retreating planes are unsuitable subjects for a painter, inasmuch as +he cannot represent them clearly except at the expense of infinite +labour. If the sculptor, on the other hand, chooses such subjects, he is +not hampered by the difficulties that block the painter’s path. His +finished work can be looked at from all sides, and he is not liable to +the painter’s risk that his final effect may, perhaps, be ruined by a +misuse of light and shade or by faulty drawing and perspective. + +The advantage, however, is not altogether on one side. The sculptor has +this other difficulty to contend with, that the appearance of his work +will change with every change of light. The painter can fix whatever +light he pleases on his canvas. As the appearance of the sculptured work +will vary with the light, the sculptor can attain but partial success in +the representation of figures or scenes in which much active emotion is +shown in the faces. But in such scenes as these a painter’s power can +well be shown, since, owing to his ability to paint any power of light +(except, of course, direct sunlight), and his power of placing the +various figures of a group in various lights, and by means of varied +tints and lights being able to bring sharply into notice any expression +of the face, he can well depict most violent emotion. It will be found, +I think, that the sculpture which is most successful deals with groups +or figures whose meaning is made clear by action and by the form of the +body as a whole, and the paintings that are most successful are those in +which effects of chiaroscuro, colour and facial expression are the most +satisfactory method for making the figure intelligible. Several facts +which will be readily acknowledged show the truth of this statement. For +instance, Veronese, Rubens, Tintoretto, Velasquez when painting scenes +the interest of which depends on the individual figures appearing in +them (not such scenes as Paradise, Hell or battles where the interest is +in the masses and spaces), compose them mainly in one plane. Also if +single heads be taken from pictures and from sculptured groups, it will +usually be found that the former give a fuller impression of the +artist’s intention than the latter. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLV.] + +Every rule has exceptions and among Michael Angelo’s sculptures are +works in which he sought to reproduce effects of light and shade and +expression that if given by painting would have been more successful +because the latter would have expressed the artist’s intention more +clearly; and in certain of his paintings he attempted effects of form +that could be given more satisfactorily by sculpture. Done by any less a +genius than Michael Angelo, such work would be either ineffective or +laboured. Done by him one can but marvel at his mastery over the sister +arts that enabled him to approach so closely to the effects proper to +the one while using the means offered by the other. But such success as +he attained does not prove soundness in the principles that led him to +make the attempt. A _tour de force_ is but the attempt to attain a +result by means other than the best. It may be successful, but it must +be unsatisfactory. It is unreal, impractical; it is a form of jugglery! + +To see how similar scenes are treated in the two arts, compare the group +of Niobe and her Children with the Massacre of the Innocents as painted +by the Renaissance artists.[26] In such comparison trivial details must +not be too much regarded, for of the Niobe group there consists but one +incomplete set of copies of the original figures and of the Massacre of +the Innocents each one of us probably considers a different artist’s +conception of the scene most effective. But the general impression given +by Niobe and her children is that of bodies driven into violent motion +by fright, what might be called frightened motion; the figures are +rushing from one spot to another in search of safety; they bend and +cower in terror of the peril. They are the incarnation of dread of +physical suffering. The impression of the Massacre of the Innocents is +one of faces contorted by horror. The action of the bodies is of less +concern. The attention is drawn to the eyes, the mouths, the hands, the +three chief outlets of mental feeling. The sufferers in the scene are +moved by the horror of unjustifiable slaughter. They are the incarnation +of anger, revolt and despair induced by the sight of pitiless massacre. + +In portraiture the painter and sculptor are drawn together because the +greatest interest of the work is centred in the face, which is the +clearest index of thoughts and emotions. Both sculptors and painters +even when making figures of life size are limited in portraiture to +seeking their chief effects in the treatment of the face. But though so +far working in common, the painter and sculptor still have different +aims; for that part of the head the expression of which can be more +strongly accented and more completely reproduced by the use of colour +and a chosen shade and light, is the eyes; while that part the +expression of which can be most adequately rendered by modelling is the +mouth. This is the reason why portraits similar in style, such as those +above mentioned, the bust of Pericles, and the painting of the Duke of +Norfolk, attract our attention in different ways. In the bust the most +noticeable feature is the firm but sensitive mouth, in the painting it +is the steady, but vivid, eye. + +Mindful of these conditions that govern the art of portraiture we find +it easy to see how the artists of various epochs have conformed to them. +This may seem to be putting the cart before the horse; to be fitting the +facts to the theory. But it is not so,—it is merely searching for proof +of a working hypothesis. The theory was suggested by the phenomena and +it will be seen to explain these phenomena. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLVI.] + +The study of Greek sculpture is at present seriously hampered by +statements and beliefs concerning it which arose at a time when its +place in the history of art was very inaccurately understood. These have +been repeated so often that they are frequently accepted without being +critically weighed in the light of recent knowledge. It is a unique and +very perfect art, but the causes and qualities of its perfection are +sometimes misunderstood. Justifiable admiration has out-weighed the +critical faculties. It is generally thought to be more imaginative and +ideal than is in fact the case. The quality of realism is not usually +attributed to such a work as the portrait bust of Pericles. And yet this +bust is quite as realistic, though not so prosaic, as that of the Roman +general Corbulo. I mention these two because they are very generally +known; but many others such as the Demosthenes, Sophocles, Cæsar, +Caligula would do equally well. The word realism is reserved too much +for those works in which the artist has represented the forms that would +be first noticed by the casual observer and, in this limited sense, the +Corbulo is far more realistic than the Pericles; but realism is just as +truly displayed in works in which the forms, while reproducing those of +the model, may perhaps not be the most obvious ones and though the +juxtaposition of them be not their most common combination. In this +sense the Pericles is as realistic as the Corbulo. Greek realism in +portraits deals chiefly with faces and figures in repose; Roman realism +deals in the main with faces and figures in action. + +It is noteworthy that portraiture was a late development of sculpture in +Greece. We know, for instance, of no contemporary portraits of Solon or +Peisistratus, and there exist in museums and private collections +extremely few busts or statues of the period preceding the middle of the +fifth century B.C., that have the character of portraits. One reason of +this doubtless was the feeling that the success which brought fame in +its train was due more to the Gods than to the individual. The +individual was an accident in the exhibition of beneficent power by the +Gods, and consequently, so far as form and feature are concerned, was of +no special interest. Furthermore, there was the feeling that the fame of +individuals was due to and a part of the fame of the whole state; hence +the individual was not apt to overestimate his own value nor to be +thought of by his neighbours with any such feeling of special respect as +is expected by, and often granted to, those who are “self-made.” + +Over and above these causes was another which must have been largely +responsible for the late development of portraiture and for its +character when it began to be common. This was the Hellenic love of +beauty. Divided though the Greeks were into numerous states, they were +held together by bonds of language, tradition, religion and politics. +But the bond that united them more strongly than all others, even than +their hatred of barbarians, was their love of beauty. “Beauty the first +of all things” says Isocrates “in majesty and honour and divineness. +Nothing devoid of beauty is prized. The admiration of virtue itself +comes to this, that, of all manifestations of life, virtue is the most +beautiful.” The consequence of this feeling was to make the individual +and imperfect man uninteresting to the artist while the general and +typical figure became his supreme aim. When at last in the fifth century +B.C. portraiture became more frequent than it had previously been, the +perfect portrait was the one which gave most completely the impression +of the general character of the man and not the one which gave the most +vivid and striking representation of the separate features of his face. + +Curiously enough the first portrait we hear of in Greece was a +caricature of the poet Hipponax by Bupalos and Athenis, artists of the +sixth century B.C. While caricature was attempted as early as this, as +is shown by the drama, by terra-cotta figurines and by vases such as +those from the sanctuary of the Kabeiroi in Bœotia, it may be questioned +whether such a portrait of Hipponax ever existed. The details of the +story, such as the suicide of the artists owing to the satirical attacks +of the poet, are scarcely credible, and if we remember the very strange +and unlifelike appearance of archaic art it seems not improbable that +the story arose in the attempt to explain some rude statue the true +intention of which had been long forgotten or had not been clearly +indicated. Even were it certain that such a caricature did once exist, +the knowledge would be of no great interest, because caricatures are but +a debased form of art. They are only the exaggeration of accidental +physical peculiarities. If the traces of a warped or ill-developed +character show in the face or figure, the representation of them may be +made a caricature, but almost all so-called caricatures show not +oddities of character but deformities of person. It is in literature, in +the works of Molière or Shakespeare, rather than in sculpture or +painting, that we find true caricatures. Not that they do not exist in +the plastic arts, but the literary art lends itself more readily than +the others to this mode of representation. + +Whatever the actual facts regarding the reported portrait of Hipponax +may have been, it is not till about the first quarter of the fifth +century (circ. 500–475) that we have undoubted evidence of portraiture. +To that time belongs the bust of a bearded man wearing a helmet, in the +Glyptothek in Munich. A replica of this work exists in the collection of +Barrone Barracco in Rome. These two heads may well be copies of a statue +of some victor in the games. As is known, portrait statues were allowed +only to thrice victorious athletes, and they were erected not so much as +an honour to the victor as to keep fresh the memory of one who had +thrice been cherished by the Gods. But this rule governing the making of +statues of athletes clearly shows what deep significance a statue was +considered to express and the secondary importance to the Greek mind of +keeping a record of personal appearance. Whether of a victor or not, the +bust referred to belongs to the early period of development of the +technique of sculpture, before it had been perfectly mastered, when the +artist was able to represent not what he wanted to but what he was able +to. Hence it is conventional; so much so that were it not for the helmet +and the absence of any attribute of Divinity we could hardly be sure +that it was intended as a portrait. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLVII.] + +Probably the best known example of portraiture produced during the +period when the technique of sculpture was thoroughly understood and +mastered, is the head of Pericles by Kresilas to which I have already +made reference (Plate XLIV). It is a work of special importance owing to +the interest attaching to the character of Pericles, but more +particularly from the artistic point of view; and fortunately there +exist several careful copies of it. These make us sure what its artistic +character was,[27] and furthermore Pliny has handed down to us an +estimate of the original work by a critic of the ancient world. This +critic expressed concisely and epigrammatically the intention that is +manifest in all Greek work of the best time, in saying that the bust of +Pericles by Kresilas shows how art can make a noble man still +nobler.[28] Now this can only be said of the best Greek and Italian +work. And all work, no matter where or by whom produced, if wrought in +the spirit which was shown more by Greek sculptors and Venetian painters +than by other artists, may be described by such words. Such a criticism +could not be made of most Roman or Florentine work. It can only be said +of work in which the attempt is successfully made to suggest a perfected +type by the improvement of an individual example, not of work the +intention of which is to represent the individual example as the +embodiment of special peculiarities with indifference as to their +excellence or defects. + +The method adopted by Kresilas is not difficult to analyse. The +character of Pericles was a rare and happy mixture of calmness, +foresight, perseverance and sensitiveness. His power of understanding +men and conditions, together with his quiet and steady pursuit of his +aims, is shown by the course of his political policy. His sensitiveness +is made clear by his unselfish ambitions, by his delight in works of the +fine arts and by his chivalrous conduct towards Aspasia, whom general +opinion, not confined to the ancient world, would have allowed him to +disregard and forget, when for the sake of giving offence to him the +populace attacked her character. Such was the man whom Kresilas had to +portray, and with high artistic perception he chose his means. + +Kresilas, we can well understand, might have shown us Pericles the +warrior, or Pericles the orator, or Pericles the lover of philosophy and +the arts, and in doing so might have given a more striking impression of +one or more of the special qualities by which his contemporaries were +impressed. Instead of this he succeeded in setting before us the complex +of all these qualities, and many more, that formed Pericles the man. The +helmet lifted back from the face reminds us of his military career but +does not force this on our attention.[29] The expression of the face is +not in the least dreamy but is thoughtful and grave; an expression +which, considering his life and friends, must have been habitual when he +was in repose. It should not be forgotten that the attitudes assumed by +the body when at rest show the presence or lack of inborn grace and +dignity, and the expression of the face when in repose is an index to +the mental nature. The expression of the eyes is open; the gaze is +steady; the brow is undisturbed. The impression given by the eyes is of +clear, highly developed intelligence. In the mouth which, as pointed out +above, is the most indicative single feature in portrait sculpture, may +be seen even more markedly than in the eyes, the man’s character. It is +a very noticeable mouth, with full and softly modelled lips, lips such +as usually suggest a weak and sensuous character. But this mouth is +neither insignificant nor weak. Its great sensitiveness passes into +firmness in the closure of the lips and the strong jaw, and shows itself +not as that of an ungoverned and libitudinous nature, but of a reserved +and, in the best way, sensitive quality. It is a mouth that implies +vigour but not self-will; the mouth of a very sensitive and +appreciative, but not a sensual man. + +Besides the character of eyes and mouth, the treatment of the whole head +must be studied in order to understand what the critic meant when he +wrote that this work made a noble man still nobler. The treatment is +broad. The minor and accidental details are disregarded that the general +effect may be clearer. The curling hair of head and beard, for instance, +is not tossed about in disordered masses, as so often in later works, +but is conventionalised. The artist realised that he could not imitate +hair, and consequently sought for the best graphic symbol by which to +suggest curls. In the modelling of the face he chose an expression of +quietness and not one of any fitful, momentary emotion; and by not +representing any slight irregularities of surface or structure, he +emphasised and made more inevitably noticeable that expression which was +most completely indicative of the man’s essential nature. He has given +us not alone Pericles the leader of the state, nor Pericles the patron +of the fine arts, nor Pericles the impassioned orator, but the Pericles +of history, the embodiment of all the best qualities bred in Athens. + +It must not be thought that the Pericles head alone exhibits the +qualities of both artist and sitter which I have attempted to suggest. +In their various ways the portraits of Sophocles, Euripides, +Demosthenes, the so-called Menander (Plate XLV), Periander (Plate XLVI) +and many another famous Greek show similar æsthetic feeling. + +It was but a short time after the death of Pericles that the +intellectual conditions of Greece underwent a great change. Beliefs +that, heretofore, had been universally held by the Greeks began to be +questioned, and the conditions of state-craft passed into a new phase. +The rise and fall of the Macedonian power was of lasting effect on the +Greek character. Alexander exhibits the type, which became common again +in the Renaissance, of the selfish despot who maintained his power by +having the money to maintain his personal influence. His thoughts were +set chiefly on his own personal glory as expressed in his empire. He +tried, but unsuccessfully, to make his court the centre of the artistic +life of the day. He was not a patron of the arts but of artists. To +Lysippus alone was granted the right to carve his portrait. No natural +development of the arts was possible under such conditions. + +The granting of such a monopoly to Lysippus shows that Alexander was +merely interested in producing on posterity a good effect so far as his +portraits could help him to do so. Copies of some of these portraits +exist. They are fine in many ways and, to a high degree, lifelike, but +they and other similar works of the epoch lack the quietness and repose +of the works of earlier times. There is a melodramatic feeling in the +looser treatment of the hair, and, oftentimes, an attempt to give a +superhuman expression to the face. + +These qualities, as critics have often noticed, are to be found in all +the forms of art of the time, so far as we now have the means of +judging. Even in architecture there is a noticeable change. Stone is not +laid so carefully, the cutting of details is coarser and mouldings are +heavier; masses are less finely proportioned and the effects of light +and shade are made more definite and striking. The miniature portraits +on gems and coins show the same characteristics as the large busts, and +the mere fact of putting portraits of contemporary rulers on the coinage +shows that the relation of the individual to the state had changed and +that, on the one hand, the desire for personal fame was spreading over +the world—a desire which became still more marked in the Roman and +Renaissance epochs; while on the other the worship of rulers, introduced +from the Orient, had firmly entrenched itself. In fact, these +Hellenistic portraits are not simple. While the technique is still +Greek, there is something else in them than the desire of the artist to +show the sitter as he appeared to his contemporaries, even in a rightly +idealised manner,—they manifest the desire of the sitter to be admired. + +The tendencies of the time were all towards exactness of representation +of existing forms, and this was soon attained. Perhaps it would have +been reached even sooner had it not been for certain interests which +held the sculptors partially to the old-time aims. One such conservative +influence is shown in the work of Silanion, who became famous for his +portraits of persons dead long before his day. Such work, if it was to +satisfy a large public, and this was what it aimed at and succeeded in +doing, had to be of a broad, general and unemphasized character, for the +nature and appearance of persons known only by tradition is necessarily +more vaguely and variously observed, less easily and surely grasped, +than that of the living. Hence, if Silanion had made portraits that +suggested strongly what seemed to him the most vital characteristic of +the person represented, he would probably have found that many of his +contemporaries considered some very different characteristic the most +essential. To please the many it was needful for his work to embody only +those ideas that were generally accepted. Such work cannot be realistic +in the sense of attracting attention to detailed peculiarities. + +Greek portraiture became rapidly more and more prosaically realistic. +But even in its last stages, when Greek artists were still employed by +Greek patrons, the realism is generally restrained. The old +conventionalism and typifying of the model is gone, and there is greater +frankness in the rendering of special peculiarities of hair or skin; but +the work is generally quiet and dignified, calm in expression and +reposeful in action. The artist puts before us not the type and idea +suggested by the man, nor, except in special cases, the man’s own desire +regarding his appearance, but the real daily aspect of the man, dressed +up not at all, treated in accordance with the essential rules of +sculpture as a fine art. + +That there were, however, some artists who amused themselves +and a thoughtless public with portraits that were vulgarly +realistic—realistic, that is, in the representation of ugly and +unessential details—is shown by what we know of Demetrius of Alopeke. He +is noted solely for his successful rendering of ugliness. But there was +too much cultivated taste in what remained of the Greek world, and too +much vigour and good sense in the growing Roman world, for such work to +become popular. To see realism developing in a strong and healthy +manner, we must turn to Rome where, though the actual carving was done, +with few exceptions probably, by Greek workers, still the character of +the work itself was controlled by Roman ideas (Plate XLVII). + +[Illustration: PLATE XLVIII.] + +The dry, matter of fact quality of Roman portraiture as opposed to the +more imaginative work of the Greeks, has long been recognised. Its +direct and unadorned presentation of the human face is noted by the most +careless observer and is to most people pleasing. It makes them feel at +ease; they have the sensation of being with real people; it does not +demand of them a mental effort to analyse the appearance before them in +order to understand it. But notwithstanding the facility with which one +derives very definite, and it may be lasting, impressions from these +Roman busts, they are by no means as simple and artless as they seem at +first sight to be. They are the product of complex influences and a +highly developed art and are as difficult to understand and properly +appreciate as are the earlier Greek ones. + +We may illustrate what has been said by glancing a moment at a portrait +of an unknown old man[30] (Plate XLVIII). This is a superb example of +Roman portraiture of the time of the Republic. It cannot lay claim to +any beauty of form or feature; it is uncompromisingly homely. +Nevertheless it has a certain fascination for the beholder. The sculptor +was a great master. The way in which he has rendered the signs of old +age in the withered neck, the irregular wrinkles of the brow, and the +uneven mouth is magnificent. It is realism of a perfect kind, for the +evidence of the wear and tear of life is subdued by and made minor to +the splendid and enduring vigour of the mind and character behind the +cheerful old face. What an old age! The sap may be running slow, the +body may show the blows dealt by life, but the stiff, short hair is +still thick, the head is still held upright and forward. It is a face of +a clean-living, plain-thinking man, one who had “held both hands before +the fires of life,” and seems to scarcely suppress a smile at the +thought that any one should want the portrait of his old face. + +Roman art, as a whole, was practical and uninspired, and far from +imaginative. In large measure it served either to answer some definite +practical end or to satisfy (as in the decoration of palaces) the Roman +taste for grandeur and display. It shows the influence of a less +full-hearted and unquestioning religious inspiration than that which had +such marked effect on the early art of Greece and again in the +Renaissance. The work of all the various branches of art produced in the +Roman territory before the importation of Greek artists was of the +rudest. It was necessary to employ Etruscans to decorate the temple of +the Capitoline Jove and until the first century before Christ the +artistic product of Rome seems to have been scanty. The energies of the +people were expended in war and colonisation. They were essentially a +commercial race. The existence of their city was derived from and +depended on their control of foreign trade. The first necessity of such +a city was to master the business of political organisation and not to +cultivate the tastes that minister to affluence and ease. Pride of race +and the acquisition of great wealth were results of the transformation +of the small republic into the great empire, and with pride and money +came luxury, and the arts, with the desire for portraits. + +[Illustration: PLATE XLIX.] + +Pliny tells of portraits made of wax, owned by the various families, +which were carried in funeral processions,—how these were considered as +belonging to the house and in case of the sale of the latter passed with +it to the new owner; such portraits as these would, like the earlier +Egyptian ones, tend to the purest realism of external appearance. He +mentions also the muniment rooms filled with records of ancestors. +Stress was laid on the actions of the illustrious dead in order that the +ensuing generations might be stirred to ambitious effort. Very different +is this from the Grecian sinking of the individual in the state. Roman +tombstones exhibit the same pride in great deeds and the same interest +in details. They are entirely different from the Greek grave monuments. +The Greek gives the name of the deceased, and sometimes a greeting to +the living wayfarer who may pass by and note the tomb; or, sometimes he +inscribed a plaintive verse—the expression of a broken heart—but nothing +more. How old were the dead? What had they done? No one now can tell. +Their course was run and the restless curiosity of later ages must +remain unsatisfied. On Roman tombstones all this is very different. They +tell us the age and family of the deceased, their occupation, what +offices they had held and their age even to days. In the cases where a +portrait of the dead person is added, it is treated in no general and +typical way; but the individual is set before us with unsparing +accuracy. + +This interest in the events of each individual life led to the chief +difference between Roman and Greek portrait busts. The Roman thought of +the great men of his country as the persons who had done such and such +things rather than as the leaders of such and such policies. +Consequently, the Roman portraits suggest activity and not +repose,—action and not thought. The idea embodied in the bust is not of +a placid and meditative but of a positive and active cast. The +portraitist seems almost always to represent his sitters at the moment +when they were accomplishing the great deed that brought them fame. The +eyes are made expressive by being distinctly focussed, and this +expression is emphasised by the treatment of the brow, which oftentimes +is more or less wrinkled or contracted in a way that suggests vigorous, +passing, mental action. In many cases the ball of the eye is cut so as +to produce a strong shadow and thus to suggest the pupil. This also +makes the fixed look more intense, but unless the light is exactly right +it is apt to produce an unpleasant appearance. + +That an artist should do this shows the desire for dramatic, restless +effects. The treatment of the lips and the part of the face about the +mouth also suggests an expression not typical of any general trend of +thought so much as of some momentary and strong emotion. Then the way +the head is set on the neck and turns sharply to one side or the other +can be understood only by supposing that the artist represented the +sitter as he appeared when employed on some one active and +characteristic piece of work. There is, for instance, in Corbulo none of +the Greek treatment of the individual as a type, but everything is done +to make more prominent the individualities of the man. And just as the +Pericles is not alone in its class, so too the Corbulo is matched by +many others, such as the Julius Cæsar, the Augustus, Caracalla or +Antoninus Pius (Plate XLIX). + +[Illustration: PLATE L.] + +As one looks at these Roman portraits one frequently feels that the +persons are on the point of moving. But notwithstanding this quality of +life which has led to their being called realistic, the best of them are +no more merely superficial in their realism than the best Greek busts. +Neither class is vulgarly realistic and imitative solely in the +external, but both depend for their effect on the correct comprehension +and presentation of actual phenomena of form and facial expression. The +different effect they produce is due to the fact that the Greek desired +an expression of the inner man, the man as he was to himself, while the +Roman desired the expression of the man as he showed himself to others. +Putting the case concisely, and remembering that such conciseness does +not express the completest truth, we may say that one was the portrait +of man as a thinker, the other of man as a doer. + +In the foregoing explanation of the nature of Roman portraits, no +account has been taken of the numerous beautiful busts of children and +women that were carved by the sculptors of the Eternal City. At first +sight these seem to contradict the contention that the almost universal +intention of the Roman sculptor was to make a portrait of a single +sharply defined phase of his sitter’s personality. They seem to be done +rather in accordance with Greek taste; but closer study will reveal that +they are not truly Greek,—that their real nature is Roman and their +seeming Grecian spirit is an illusion due to accident and not to +intention. + +Busts of children or women made to show character in action could never +resemble the Roman busts of men. The qualities that make the character +of men are non-existent, or at least undeveloped, in the child, and in +the woman take another form. The Greek by his generalising and typifying +process which brought about the production of placid figures was led to +express chiefly those qualities which produce similar effects in all +faces. The Roman, though searching for active expression still noted in +the child as the most beautiful and characteristic qualities, softness, +roundness and breadth of modelling, and the dignity of infantine +demeanour. Hence the Roman heads of children have a somewhat Greek look, +but in every part, as for example the hair, where stress can be laid on +accidental and purely individual appearance, this is done (Plate L). The +Greek appearance was inherent in the object; the most suggestive symbol +to express curled or straight locks was sought, but to carve hair in all +its fairness of strand, in all its waving masses or its fantasticalities +of fashion, was not the aim of the sculptor. In Roman work the hair is +scarcely ever conventionalised in a Grecian manner but shows the fashion +of the day. Usually, the head is not symmetrically placed, but is turned +to one side or the other, implying that the child’s attention was +attracted to some special object. + +The same points are to be noted in the portraits of women. In their +faces as in children’s the beauty and softness of feature led to +something like a Greek breadth of modelling, but the hair and the action +of the head are purely Roman (Plate LI). + +[Illustration: PLATE LI.] + +The Florentine portraits show these same characteristics. Among them +also the children and women seem at first glance to be Grecian or +Venetian in character, but, when looked at more closely, one sees that +those features which are not mere copies of nature but which show +artistic intention are not Venetian, nor Greek, in character, but Roman. +Yet another class of Florentine monuments which are at first sight +misleading in the same way are the recumbent statues on tombs. In these +the Greek quality of quietness and repose is very marked and is due to +the artist being called upon to represent faces modelled by the stilling +touch of death and no longer to be thought of as showing active forces. +But even in these figures the intense actuality of feature, the lack of +conventionalising and typifying, is noticeable. In fact there is little +doubt that oftentimes the artist did his work not from sketches of the +living model but from a death mask. + +If now we consider from a more general point of view this art of +portraiture and its relationship to times and peoples, certain things +become clear. Portraiture may be due, as in Egypt, to some religious +motive, but this is uncommon. Where it develops as an art, simply for +its æsthetic value, we note that it becomes a general practice only as +ideal and imaginative work loses ground. While the Greeks never, in a +certain sense, showed much imagination in their sculpture, it is +unquestionable that towards the end of the fifth century B.C., when +portraiture becomes prominent, the idealising and religious works +decrease and deteriorate. The same truth holds good in Italy during the +Renaissance, when much more imagination was shown than in Greece.[31] +Portraiture is due to a family interest in its own members or to a +people’s interest in an individual. It is not practised (for artists +such as Silanion are not true _portraitists_) by the artist to please +himself. + +But whatever may be the interests, private or public, that call for +portraiture, the art becomes common only in times of centralisation, +times when large fortunes, and hence great power, are possessed by +individuals. Furthermore, no matter who may be the persons represented +(setting aside women and children) it is not possible to carve or paint +them except in one of two ways, as an embodiment of thought, or as an +embodiment of action. The former method appealed to Greeks and +Venetians,—the latter better pleased the Romans and Florentines. Both +are realistic because both strive to show in one way or another actually +existent forms and expressions. It depends on each man’s natural +temperament which will give him most satisfaction. Other methods are +frequently adopted in the modern struggle for originality, but it is +safe to say that they will exert little influence on the development of +art, for, while they may be clever devices, while they make certain +effective features particularly prominent, they are still unsatisfactory +because they produce at best but a partial likeness. If it be granted +that there are but two great methods of portraiture, there is yet no +reason to fear that dulness will ensue. The interest excited by the +individual man comes from the character shown. + +There are just double as many portraits, potentially, as there are +individuals, and the interest of portraiture lies in what the artist +makes us comprehend of the nature of the man. Too often the public is +deceived into thinking that the work of handicraftsmen, with little or +no power of reading and understanding character, is to be judged as true +portraiture. Such work may be decorative in chiaroscuro, it may be +pleasant as colour; but the mere drawing of a face, even if what is +called a good likeness is produced, is not portraiture. It is but the +outer husk and dead wrapping hiding the vital germ within. + + + + + II. PHEIDIAS AND MICHAEL ANGELO + + +Different as were the lives and works of the two sculptors whose names +are more familiar to us than those of any others, there were, +nevertheless, many circumstances of closely related character that +affected their careers. But apart from such circumstances the +consideration of even those influences which were absolutely different +in the one case and in the other, exhibits clearly some of the broader +laws of the art practised by them both. In truth, it is the art rather +than the individual style of the sculptors that is worth study, for the +art is a language, the works but the expression of single ideas; the one +is a perpetual and constantly varying power, the other but separate +thoughts expressed. + +Naturally the two interests, one that of becoming more familiar with the +products of the “fine intelligence of noble minds,” the other the more +abstract one of a more intimate knowledge of the powers and +possibilities of one of the fine arts, are inextricably combined. The +study of the two sculptors mentioned is particularly interesting owing +to the ever-increasing production of sculpture in our own day; and owing +to various conditions in modern life, there is a close relationship in +many important matters between us and these two masters of days long +past. Therefore, whatever can be certainly learned about them will help +us to appreciate more truly the work and workers of to-day and +to-morrow. Nothing can help more to attain this appreciation and +sympathy than the study of the great workers of past ages, even when +they may to a casual glance seem to be of somewhat remote interest. + +The work of men such as Pheidias and Michael Angelo cannot be considered +by any serious student as in fact remote from our time and interests. +The study of the Past, particularly that part filled by Greece, becomes +every day more and more general and the influence of the Renaissance in +Italy upon modern thought and work is seen on every hand; here we come +to the first noteworthy fact regarding these two sculptors. It is not +going too far to say that all the best Greek sculpture, that is to say, +what was produced during the latter half of the fifth century before +Christ and the fourth century, was strongly influenced by Pheidias and +that his influence shows itself intermittently until the end of the +ancient world. + +It would of course be too much to claim Pheidias as the originator of +all the qualities in sculpture which are apt, nowadays, to be named +Pheidian, but as the master who most adequately expressed the ideals +held in his time so far as sculpture allowed of their expression, he may +be used as the type; and among the varied interests which Michael Angelo +and the other students of the Renaissance found in Greek work were +several that may properly be called Pheidian. + +This influence of Greek work on the Renaissance can hardly be over +estimated. It shows itself in many ways and with varying +force,—sometimes producing direct imitation of ancient works, then again +becoming manifest in new work done with the intention of reviving the +spirit of the ancient world. Michael Angelo did not fall under the spell +as completely as many of his less vigorously original contemporaries, +but it was no more to be entirely avoided by him than one of the laws of +nature. Thus with the work of the Greeks directly affecting us to-day in +a very similar way to that in which it affected the Italians in the +fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and with the work of the later +period, deeply tinctured with the Grecian dye, also influencing us, it +becomes deeply interesting to find in what the greatest artists of the +two periods were alike and wherein they differed one from the other. + +The influence of Pheidias on the art of his race was not so much that of +the originator or inventor as it was that of the poet, who gathering the +various and unconnected beauties that are felt by all, though less +keenly than by him, binds them together by the indefinable power of his +genius and gives back to the admiring world not separate things of +beauty but a standard of the beautiful and perfect. And this power of +genius deals with such finenesses, is so subtle, that oftentimes it is +almost beyond the power of words to make clear the manner of its +working. As the sensitiveness of the photographic plate is greater than +that of the eye, so the trained and perceptive eye notes much that can +only with difficulty be expressed by words. The genius is felt, it +thrills and vivifies the observer, but it cannot be expounded like a +problem in mathematics. + +For this reason, we must believe, the few great writers on these matters +are oftentimes scoffed at by persons whose eyes have not been trained to +see nor their hearts to understand. Not that the scoffers can be blamed +for this unhappy sterility of their powers, for in most cases the +circumstances of life have not been of that fortunate kind which would +enable them to acquire the finer faculties. They are only to be blamed +in so far as either through envy or stupidity they refuse to believe +that others may be endowed with power which is lacking to them—power +dependent upon long and arduous training. It is a curious but familiar +phenomenon that the person who will not hesitate an instant to admit +that the trained rider or sportsman or oarsman can ride, shoot or row +better than he can, will energetically claim for himself as fine-seeing +an eye, or a mind as keenly interpretative, as the practised artist or +the scholar. That is, he asserts that the exercises of the body need +training, but those of eye and brain do not, a theory manifestly absurd. + +The genius of Pheidias is so ultimate in its fineness that it needs long +training before it can be properly appreciated. If this is doubted, one +has but to consider the fact, that among all the numerous references to +him and his work which are preserved for us in ancient writers, not one +mentions him, as his elder contemporaries Myron, Pythagoras, Kalamis or +many others are mentioned, as having been the first to institute any +particular detail of carving. No new treatment of the hair, no new way +of representing the body, no special scheme of proportion are attributed +to him, and yet the absolute consensus of opinion was that he was the +unrivalled master of them all. Fashions changed, and a new one, that of +making collections, arose, which demanded the satisfaction of individual +tastes, but Pheidias’s fame knew no eclipse. + +[Illustration: PLATE LII.] + +Besides this subtle quality in his genius, this weaving of the various +beautiful threads spun by others into one consummate stuff, there are +other qualities that render his work difficult to appreciate. One is +that the ideals both of religion and of life were very different from +those of to-day, so that we have to lay aside all preconceived notions +and at first regard him as children who wonder but do not understand. +This is the hardest task the student ever has to master, to free himself +from the bonds of the conventions, beliefs and circumstances common to +his own day and study the work of another time with (so far as he can +accomplish it) an understanding sympathy with the conventions, beliefs +and circumstances belonging to those other days. Still a further +difficulty lies in the fact that there does not exist in the world one +single work of which we can say: this is truly and completely by +Pheidias. The marble figures from the Parthenon show his quality in many +respects clearly but these we know were worked upon by assistants. Other +works by him exist in copies, but for the most part these copies can be +shown to be bad and should be used as evidence only with the utmost +care. Yet, notwithstanding these difficulties, the image that we have of +him is, it can scarcely be doubted, clearly defined in the main +outlines. + +How different is all this in the case of Michael Angelo! Here our +embarrassment is of a character diametrically opposed and comes from the +fact that we are so burdened with details about his life and work that +the really important matters are partially obscured by trivialities. +Contemporaries and fellow-workmen wrote his life; his letters and poems +have been preserved; documents of all sorts regarding his works exist, +and the works themselves are where they can be easily seen. + +Beyond all these aids to our knowledge of the man we have, again, the +more vital one that the age in which he lived is almost as well +understood as our own, and many of the greater currents of thought and +action were but little different to those of the present time. Unlike +the Pheidian time, but like to-day, his was not a period when +governments deeply believed in the protection of their Gods nor one in +which the individual was scarcely considered except as a detail of the +state, nor when portrait statues were almost unknown. Conquest for the +love of gain, and commonwealths subdued to one will, were the rule. The +truly Greek period in the development of Italy, the time of the +blossoming of Venice, of Siena, of Florence had given way to the +Alexandrian epoch. Though the idea that the will of the masses should +govern the state was fortunately not yet formulated, the development of +individualism was well under way, and instead of men governing their +lives by general ideals they all sought to raise themselves on the +shoulders of their less fortunate brothers to enjoy a little while the +glory of a special and peculiar fame. Hence called as he was to lend his +power to the satisfaction of such desires as these, Michael Angelo’s +work was in many cases, in those, that is, where he was working for a +master other than his own instinct, tinged with a character utterly out +of accord with that of Pheidias, and yet curiously enough even in these +works there are signs of a strong undercurrent of feeling which would +have bound him and Pheidias together as the most sympathetic friends, +thus showing that at bottom art is not governed by circumstance of time +or place. + +There were however certain very important aspects in which life as +Michael Angelo saw it in Italy, and particularly in Florence, was +curiously similar to what it was in Athens in the fifth century B.C. The +climate and general appearance of the two countries is even now not +unlike, and it must have been much less so in the time when the hills of +Greece were so forest-grown that Pan and the nymphs could really live in +comfort there, and before modern improvements had eradicated many of the +individual peculiarities of Italy. Then too the habits of the cultivated +classes were similar. Under very different forms the principles of +education seem to have been the same. The schooling shown in +Castiglione’s Cortegiano is like that given the Grecian youth. It was an +education which comprised, both in Greece and in Italy, music, drawing, +a knowledge of the thought and actions of past generations and a mastery +of all those exercises that conduced to self-defence or to the more +perfect development of the body. Similar training naturally taught the +men of these two worlds to see life in very similar ways, and although +the teachings of the Catholic Church were very different from those of +the Greek religion in regard to the relations between men and women, yet +life and instinct were stronger than the holy teachings, and in this +point too the simplicity and naturalness of the Greek found its +counterpart in Italy. + +It is easy to see that the power exerted by these various influences on +the art of sculpture was very great, more so even than on the sister art +of painting, for it is on the realisation of what constitutes a fine +body, on the equal simplicity of treatment of the woman’s form and the +man’s, and the knowledge of what ideas can be best interpreted in terms +of form, that the art of sculpture depends. Art is but the translation +of emotion, and each particular art has a particular way of +accomplishing the translation; and in this, painting and sculpture are +more closely connected than any two other arts, so much so that +sculptors in the two greatest periods—the Greek and the +Renaissance—rarely considered their work as finished until the power of +colour had been used to heighten the effect, and often practised the two +arts coincidently. But during these two periods the limits imposed by +the materials of the various arts were clearly recognised and closely +adhered to, and in the best sculpture of the Renaissance there is no +more attempt to represent landscape or other purely colour effects than +in the Parthenon. Sometimes, however, as in the drapery of the Moses or +the modelling of the Pietà in St. Peter’s, Michael Angelo does seem to +overstep the limits of sculpture and to seek for effects which could be +more simply and much more intelligibly given in painting than in stone; +effects that need the manifold devices of light and shade and colour +which are at the disposal of the painter rather than the sculptor. + +This is, however, a rare weakness in the works of Michael Angelo, and +one that apparently never entered those of Pheidias. One reason for this +is that the art of painting was more completely comprehended in Italy +than in Greece, and the Italian artists, more commonly than the Grecian, +practised both arts. Hence, great painter as well as great sculptor, +endowed with a readiness of hand, such as scarcely any other artist ever +had, to reproduce whatever his mind imaged, it is no wonder that Michael +Angelo at times went beyond the bounds of one art and seemed magically +to interfuse the beauties of both of them. It would have been a greater +wonder had he not done so. It was not a sign of his weakness so much as +of his strength, of the inability of any one art to satisfy the artist’s +desire and ideal. In this greater complexity, which shows at times in +the detail of his work, Michael Angelo differed from Pheidias, but, +almost invariably, the two artists, while differing in their feeling for +line, or gesture, or substance, treat the human figure and its +accessories in the same way. In both one sees a distinct and necessary +dwelling on the nude. + +[Illustration: PLATE LIII.] + +Where the human figure is chosen as the object of a work of art, there +are but two chief means by which to represent the emotions it contains, +one the expression of the face, one the action of the body as a whole. +It is in the representation of the face, the most palpable index of the +emotions, that painting, with its power over almost infinitesimal lights +and shades, finds fullest scope for its power, while it is in the +greater lines of the frame and the larger gestures that sculpture +satisfies herself. So it is that in the sculptural work of both Michael +Angelo and Pheidias one finds drapery treated not, as was distinctly the +case in the statues of Praxiteles, for its own special beauty apart from +the whole work, but as a means of emphasising the beauty of the body +whose details it hid. + +Look at the group of three women from the western pediment of the +Parthenon, or the Lemnian Athena, or the Caryatids of the Erechtheum +(Plate LII)—for these are utterly Pheidian in character even if not by +the master himself—or the figures on the frieze of the Parthenon (Plate +LVII) or the Hegeso relief. In all these the drapery ripples over the +shoulders and breasts, breaking in great falls around the waist and legs +to disappear and fade away in little curling waves around the feet, not +hiding the soft details of the figure underneath but serving rather as a +frame to emphasise the beauties and set them in true relation to the +surroundings. That there was any ethical need of hiding the figure would +have seemed the height of absurdity to the Greek or the Italian. Out of +the dark it comes and back to the dark it goes in this Adamite +condition, so why should the artist not use it so if it serves his +purpose? + +Thus it has been used in all times when there was a vital art, and such +times have been distinguished for greater sanity of thought and health +of body than when art was governed by mediæval fanaticisms. Michael +Angelo’s figures are as distinguished for this quality as are those +shaped by the Grecian chisel. His feeling for the value of the nude is +so strong that he can hardly suffer the drapery at all. The Moses, the +Madonnas, the Medici Princes are to all intents in large measure +undraped. Considered as draped figures they distinctly lack the +temperance and quiet nobility of the Greek figures, for the reason that +although his feeling towards the relation of draped and nude parts is +the same, Michael Angelo does not attain his end in as consummate a way. +He makes too sharp a distinction between the parts that are really +draped, the parts that are but seem not to be, and the nude. But in one +point of this same nature the two artists are completely alike. They +both regarded the human figure from the purely artistic point of view as +a means to suggest certain ideas. The religious meaning, the question as +to its sanctity or unhallowedness, no more occurred to them than to +question the advisability of warming themselves before the fire when +they were cold because there were fires in Hell. They were completely +natural. + +In regard to the lack of complexity and to the greater repose, it may be +admitted that Pheidias has the advantage over Michael Angelo whose +works, true index as they are of his character, suffered from the time +in which he lived—his character suffered and hence his work. His was a +time of scepticism and hence of worry. The tranquillity that marked the +Greek mind was rarely found in his day. Aretino was planting the +destructive roots of modern journalism, and except, in a way marked by +strong affectation, at certain courts, one would have had to go far to +find Platonic Symposia or Olympic gatherings. The cloudy brow of Michael +Angelo himself as well as of many of his figures is a sign how the +perplexity of the times preyed upon the sculptor and in turn affected +not only the chief motive of many of his works but also their very +details. + +And, if we admit the truth, this worry and perturbation is more natural +to us than is the Greek grace and calm which, to those who do not +understand the time, seems unnatural and forced. It was not so, however. +The Greek was never forced, but though he felt intensely, he considered +that the possession and exercise of control over emotion was as much to +be desired as the power which found expression in beating back barbarian +hordes. The tenderness of Greek friendships is proverbial, but the whole +tone of Greek tragedy is of passion held in check,—carried in the heart +rather than worn on the face. Slaves and servants gave way to noisy +grief, but not their masters. A Greek of the Periclean age could +scarcely have understood the worn, wearied, soul-troubled look of the +Pensieroso. It was not that the Greek was unimpassioned, but he never +let his passions govern him. He guided them as a rider guides a restive +horse—as the youths on the Parthenon guide theirs—calming and soothing +them lest the animal become the master and break away from the chosen +path. + +This difference in the character of the two races was due largely to +religion, which had the most marked effect on the work produced in the +two countries. One is apt to think, when one sees the limitless mass of +churches, decorated by painter and sculptor, in Italy, and the unending +array of lesser works of distinctly religious intent, that no art could +be more religious than that of Italy. But just as in the conduct of +individuals it is the spirit rather than the form of action that is the +true index to their character, so in art it is the feeling the work +shows, and not merely its outer form, which indicates its true nature +and value. Now not merely in the number of religious works was Greece in +the Periclean days as distinguished as ever Italy was, but she was far +more noteworthy, in that her religion was a much more vital impulse than +that of Italy. This is certainly true of the Periclean as opposed to the +Medicean age. + +In the light of present knowledge the circumstances that led to these +conditions are discernible. Like every innocent race the Greeks had a +firm belief in the Gods, beings developed in their minds by very varied +influences, and for the most part not of a character to serve as guides +to ideal conduct after the race had once gained the capacity for using +its mind in a logical way. One or two of these beings were, however, as +noble as any such conceptions at any time. This power to use the mind +rationally was not yet a national possession when Pheidias grew up. It +was just becoming so. The development of the mind, the strength of it, +was there, but for a few decades circumstances turned the thoughts of +the people away from philosophic consideration to more ecstatic modes in +which old conceptions were clung to with passionate fondness and made +more beautiful, but a change of belief was the work of a following +generation. + +These circumstances were chiefly a consequence of the Persian Wars. +Greece was threatened with destruction. Athens was harried, and the +glories of the Acropolis were razed to the ground. Phœnix-like they +disappeared in fire to have an image of themselves more splendid in its +youth and vigour rise as a light to all the world. But though the +barbarian had for a moment seemed master of the situation, the Greeks +had, with the active help of the Gods, been the final victors and it was +in the service of thanks to their divine helpers that Pheidias found his +chief employment. It was only in the very early years of the Renaissance +that the Italians experienced any such miracles as those which +Pheidias’s elder contemporaries had known—as, for instance, at the +battle of Ravenna—and the effect on them then was much the same as it +had been on the Greeks. It was the actual presence of the Gods at +critical moments that stirred the Greeks. In Athens Athena’s snake led +them to safety, at Salamis the Aiakidoi inspired the heroes with their +battlecry, and Pan himself urged the weary messenger over the mountain +passes. The Greeks no more doubted that their victory was due to +assistance lent them by the Gods than that there had been a war. One +event was as real to them as the other, so it was natural for them, as +soon as their hearths were once more lit, to render thanks to their +Divinities by raising images of them on all sides, that they might never +forget them, and by building for the houses of their Gods as beautiful +temples as could by any possible means be made. + +We may frankly concede that the grandeur of this work, the generousness +of it, can only be understood when one fully grasps the fact that a +Greek temple was, what the Christian’s is not, the house of the Lord. In +it but few and most private services were performed,—no processions, no +crowds of more or less attentive worshippers, no expounding of the word, +nothing whatever of that sort. The temple was the sacred dwelling place +of the deity, and the curious no more thought of entering it than of +opening uninvited their fellow-citizen’s door. It was a free gift to the +God and not to be thought of as a source of satisfaction to the builders +except in the same way as it pleases a lover to have his mistress accept +some gift at his hands. This feeling is repeated frequently in Pindar +and in other poets inspired by the ‘golden muse.’ So it was that, +flushed with the excitement of a great cause nobly won, the Greeks +turned the full force of their keen, glad energy to works that showed +their own greatness by manifesting with the sharpness of full +understanding the form of their ideals. + +In our day, animated by so different interests and ambitions, it is hard +to sympathise with this natural idealistic work done in Athens, and it +is perhaps even harder to understand why it was that Pheidias and the +other artists were not called on to erect portrait statues of the great +leaders of the war as were the artists of the Renaissance. There is +mention of a statue to Miltiades, and this is all. The reason becomes +clear immediately we consider well what were the fundamental principles +of conduct as taught by the poets, who were in those days in large +measure the formulators of public opinion. Pindar is as clear-spoken +about this as need be, and he but repeats what one finds in the +fragments that are preserved of Solon’s writings and of other earlier +writers. He tells us that what is natural is best and that the deed done +without the deity is best left unspoken (Olym. IX), and again (Nem. I) +that each of us has his special power and we must earnestly endeavour +according as Nature shows the way. This is to be the moral of our +action, while that of our thought is that man is as nothing (Nem. VI), +ephemeral creature naught knowing what he is or what he may be, nothing +but a mirage-dream (Pyth. VIII). + +[Illustration: PLATE LIV.] + +Under the spell of such stern teaching as this it is no wonder that +Pheidias was not employed, as was Michael Angelo, in depicting for an +inquiring posterity the outer husk of the protagonist of his day. Nor +was it merely when he was called on to decorate Athens with his +accomplished powers that Pheidias found guiding principles of this stern +sort, but even in his other great work, the Olympian Zeus, he was +governed in the same way. By the Greek, victory in the games was no more +to be aspired to without the help of the Gods than was victory in +battle, and it was not praise for the winner but gratitude to the Gods +that was mete when Nike laid the ‘golden crown’ upon the athlete’s brow. +For it is the Gods who, as Pindar sings, guard the deep-breasted plain +of Sparta and grant success in the great games. Fame is to be sought but +it is to be the fame of honourable deeds (Pyth. VIII), but even this is +of less value than happiness and only he who has won both has attained +the acme of bliss (Pyth. I). Such men are almost unknown, for the soul +of honour is tarnished by lust of gain (Nem. IX). Thus were the athletes +in that “age of heroic prize-men” taught that physical power was of +value, but only as it was a stepping-stone to moral purity. No portraits +of such youths as these unless the Gods marked them as their own with +the triple crown. The deep-delved researches of epigraphist and +excavator show us how rare was that event. + +Called upon to embody for the chosen youth of Greece their idea and +image of the guardian deity who meted out unquestioned justice to their +strife, Pheidias had to depict as it were a masculine counterpart to the +Goddess who made Athens her own. That he was as successful in the one +task as in the other is instantly apparent to one who notes the quality +of the praise bestowed upon his work by the highly trained critics of +the classic period. None speak of his figures as they do of Myron’s, for +instance, as deceiving the beholder by their realism. There is no +question as to the mastery over the material as with Kalamis and +Pythagoras,—no suggestion of conventionalism as with Polykleitos, none +of overrefinement as with Praxiteles,—but all agree that his works were +such nobly adequate representations of the divine beings that they added +a new glory to the religion of which they were the perfected expression. + +Still another noteworthy peculiarity of this religion in its effect on +his work remains to be mentioned. Both he and Michael Angelo had at +different times now mere mortals, now deities, to represent. In the case +of the Attic master this led to a greater unity of performance than was +possible with the Florentine. Between the dwellers on Olympus and those +on the broad-bosomed Earth there was to Pheidias’s mind only a +difference in degree, whereas to the believer in the Roman doctrines +there was no real similarity between the heavenly hosts and the +inhabitants of this vale of tears; and where such was suggested, it was +so as a symbol, not as a representation. To the Greek the Gods were +merely his grander, nobler, more powerful brethren, blessed with the +same virtues and troubled by similar faults, differing principally from +the dwellers on earth by usually escaping the results due to giving way +to passion. Even they were not blessed with absolute immunity and +freedom of action. Zeus himself was subject to Fate, but in the main the +Gods, at least in their outward form, were but more beautiful men and +women. Hence when called upon to carve the most noble being whom he +could imagine, and equally when carving ideal youths and maidens on the +Parthenon, he could only carve the same forms he saw about him every day +idealised by his imagination. Whichever branch of his art he followed +trained him for the other. + +That such conditions and beliefs as these were very different from those +under which Michael Angelo had to work needs no elaborate exposition. +How different they were in their effect on the art of Pheidias and the +happiness of the period for such an artist becomes clearer the more one +studies. There is still another point to consider, however,—what might +be called a more practical one than the influences of religion, and in +this regard, too, Pheidias was the more favoured. I refer to the +political conditions of the time, and the relations of Pheidias to his +employers. + +The lack of original documents makes it impossible for us to follow the +course led by Pheidias from its fortunate rise to its unhappy close, but +that in most ways he was much to be envied by Michael Angelo cannot be +questioned. Athens was at the height of her prosperity; freed from +foreign or internal foes, she was at liberty to pursue her ends as +occasion demanded or as consideration showed was best. It was a time of +thanksgiving and hope. No such condition of government as this was known +to Michael Angelo, nor did his country have the advantage of being led +by as high-minded a statesman, and probably as wise a one, as ever +lived. So long as Pericles was leader of the state, Pheidias was his +friend and helper. Here was no worry for the artist, no change of +master, no blighting of cherished hopes, all which ills were suffered by +Michael Angelo; on the contrary, existence in the midst of a most highly +cultivated community—a community moved by a common search after ideal +ends, a community which must have been a constant inspiration to the +sculptor to equal the expectations it had of him. With the rise of mob +rule brought on by the momentary successes won by certain demagogues +came the downfall of Pericles and in his train Pheidias. But his great +work was finished then. He had nothing to fear when he laid aside his +chisel, and fortunately he was not left long to mourn the fast vanishing +nobility of his city and race. The time of calm self-confidence had +passed and the time of trouble was threatening. Only a short time +elapsed before the tide of disaster engulfed the whole country, and if +we would seek a counterpart to the worn and restless spirit that +sometimes appears in Michael Angelo’s work, we can find it in the later +Greek masters—even Praxiteles shows traces of it. But it is not mere +likenesses we are in search of, so much as explanations and the +clarification of certain phenomena of art. + +The effect of these conditions of life and thought on Pheidias was more +strong than on other sculptors of the time because the greater +sensitiveness and impressibility of his nature rendered him a more +encompassing recipient for ideas and feelings than most of his +contemporaries. But the qualities that show in his work with especial +sharpness are found diffused throughout all the work of the period, and +there is one very noticeable characteristic of this work which +distinguishes it markedly from the work produced by Michael Angelo’s +fellow-workmen. It is the emphasis laid on youth. Donatello, Verrocchio, +Desiderio and many others often represented youthful figures; but the +representation of youth and early manhood could scarcely be said to +distinguish the work of the Florentine from other epochs, yet this is +exactly what can be said of the product of the early Greek and +particularly the Attic School. + +Look at the statues of youths and maidens, the never-fading ghosts of +past days, which the Attic chisel carved and the Attic soil has +preserved for us. Look at the young Apollos and their not less glorious +brethren, the athletes. Look at the guardians above the temple +porches—incarnations of youthful vigour even when the bearded head or +matronly form give sign of elder years. Look at the vases “with brede of +marble men and maidens overwrought.” Finally look well at the statues of +God and Goddess—even these have youth eternal moulded in their full, +strong figures. + +And it is pleasant to reflect that it is not the sculptor’s art alone +which found satisfaction in thus dwelling on the most beautiful forms of +human life, but the painters and the poets too immortalise the +entrancing splendours of the youthful form. Greek art of this time +presents us with the indubitable evidence of a belief, rooted deep as +life itself, that the everlasting joy of completest beauty was to be +found in the well-conditioned body of youth or maiden. What a +degradation the ascetic interpretation of the Holy Writ brought in the +art of the Renaissance! Many youthful figures do we find there, but they +were chosen as much for the sake of the quaintness of extremely youthful +forms as for the beauty inherent in vigorous development. The place of +the fine-drawn, well-groomed figures of the Greek youths and maidens is +taken by jolly, pot-bellied babies. Over the altars and among the graves +they scramble, and up the marble columns, to launch themselves, heedless +as screaming swallows, over the groined ceiling. From North to South and +across Italy from Sea to Sea this breed of fascinating babies +spread—their father the Church, their mother the great human heart of +the Italian race. And then, dulling the pleasant impression that such +figures make upon the mind, we are met on all sides by haggard figures +of men and women expressive only of a bitter ardour to seek salvation by +pain. + +The wanness of Botticelli, the pain and trouble of Michael Angelo, the +mere ordinarily healthy look of Ghirlandaio, these are what take the +place of the deep-breasted, broad-shouldered, strong-pulsed, magnificent +Greeks—some repetition among these latter, ’tis true, but marvellous in +their vigour and constancy and impulsiveness. Or what poets can the +Medicean time show who sing of ideals and principles in the same +full-throated, calm, incisive way as Pindar or Sophocles sang them? We +have instead a scornful wrath or playful fancy. The deity is no longer +friendly but terrible, and dainty mistresses usurp the place of the +God-compelling Aphrodite. The momentary, not the eternal, is the +interest of the day. + +[Illustration: PLATE LV.] + +Some there were, Greek in spirit and in deed: Dante in part of his later +work, so far as a Catholic could be. The Vita Nuova in its heart-broken +passion, the Convito in its complexity, are purely Italian, but passages +of the Divine Comedy and the Letters might be the work of one of the +Attic dramatists, so intense are they, so cool, so assertive of the +power of right over wrong. But an artist much more Greek than Dante and +one who is often, but very mistakenly, thought to resemble Michael +Angelo, was Tintoretto. His was a Greek sense of form, his was a Greek +sense of beauty, and his was a completely and absolutely Greek sense of +what constituted true portraiture. There were others too of this group, +but they are rare and far between; men who seem to have been born two +thousand years too late, or else just in time to save the world from a +worship of what was mentally warped and physically unsound. + +When one considers that the art of sculpture has found its chief +employment in the service of religion, it becomes plain why living among +a people whose religion led to asceticism, even though the age was +largely sceptical, Michael Angelo should impress his work with a feeling +quite opposed to that found in the works of Pheidias. Scepticism there +was in ancient Greece too, but not strong enough to free Pheidias +entirely from the bonds of the religion to which he was from infancy +accustomed. Furthermore, a scepticism that found much fuel for its +flames in the misconduct of the Vicar of Christ and his less powerful +imitators would have a very dissimilar effect on the mind from that +which was based on true mental development. The one was the natural +sloughing of the skin, the other the amputation of a diseased member. + +The conditions at Rome had more effect on the formation of character in +those days than anything else, and they cannot have seemed much less +rotten to Michael Angelo than to Hildebrand five hundred years earlier. +The feeling that Christ was essentially the man of sorrows, which +affected the early artists, had passed from men’s minds, and in regard +to his comeliness there was nothing to prevent an artist working in a +Greek spirit; but employed though Michael Angelo was by the Popes, they +used him by no means always on religious work. + +And Michael Angelo also suffered, as Pheidias did not, from having many +masters. These were causes to destroy any Pheidian-like unity in Michael +Angelo’s work, but causes much more potent to work him injury were the +characters of the men for whom he worked, prince as well as Pope. It +was, doubtless, in many respects fortunate for a young artist to have +the freedom of the court of Lorenzo de’ Medici, but while Lorenzo might +help such a man as Michael Angelo at the beginning of his career, he was +hardly the man to inspire his more mature years. At any rate he died +while Michael Angelo was still young, and thenceforth the latter worked +for men with whom he can have had but little sympathy. Men of great +energy they were, but with the exception of Alexander VI, in the main +corrupt or stupid. To work for such men under any circumstances must +have been trying, but when one thinks of their refusal to allow Michael +Angelo to work as he saw fit, one does not wonder that at times he was +nervously irritable. + +Obviously such a life would have been trying to a man of more ordinary +clay than Michael Angelo, but to him, endowed, as he was, with enormous +powers of mental application and sensitive as only poets are, it must at +times have been little less than torture. He knew that the golden age of +his country had passed. He saw Florence humbled and Rome sacked. The +statesmen were men of mean ambition and the clergy men of lax morals. +Nothing could stop the degeneration. Political reformers and saintly +enthusiasts had matched themselves against the ever-increasing +debasement of Italy, and one after another they had all been overcome. +From the days of the doubtful reforms of Crescentius or Cola da Rienzi +through the period of the passionate recalling of Christ by Francis of +Assisi to the time of bitter invective of Savonarola, reformers had +given their lives in the attempt to save their beloved Italy from the +error of her ways, and all had failed. It was not a time for hope but +for sorrow, and it needed a firm belief in the Divine Word to save one +from despair—or at least discontent. + +It is from his sonnets and letters rather than from his sculpture that +we can obtain a view of Michael Angelo’s thoughts and feelings. Not that +the latter does not show certain moods of the artist very clearly, but, +as in the Pietà, it is more ideal than personal, more the expression of +dreams than of his actual experience. In the sonnets, on the other hand, +he gives vent to his own innermost feelings. In them we find frequent +expression of deep despair, but bitterly as he grieved for the death of +Savonarola, there is no evidence that he thereat lost faith in humanity. +It may well have been his admiration of Vittoria Colonna that saved him +from misanthropy. As his intercourse with her was undoubtedly the purest +joy and her death the keenest sorrow of his later years, so there may +have been some similarly sweetening influence during the summer of his +life. The knowledge of his career that we possess is great, but it does +not tell us this. It is for our purposes, perhaps for all, better that +this should be so. At least it makes it easier to compare him with +Pheidias, of whose life we have no such details whatever. + +Such were some of the general conditions affecting the point of view of +these two men. The effect they had on particular work becomes evident +with the study of the separate monuments. One point is, to begin with, +very noticeable. It is that of the eight works by Pheidias mentioned +distinctly by ancient writers seven are representations of deities, and +the eighth of an ideal being. There can be no question that he made +other works, but that these alone were preserved by tradition certainly +affords safe grounds for the deduction that his genius was most +congenially employed and most fully displayed in such work. In the case +of Michael Angelo, while we know of work like the statue of Julius or +the Battle Cartoon (not to mention his youthful efforts) that have +nothing to do with religion, yet his mind also turned to religious +subjects and his greatest works are entirely of this character. + +Curiously enough it is when employed on subjects drawn from the ancient +world that Michael Angelo is most unlike the great Greek. His Pietà, the +Madonna of Bruges (Plate LIII) and Victor (Plate LIV) are more Pheidian +than his Bacchus (National Museum, Florence; Plate LV) or his Eros +(South Kensington Museum; Plate LVI). These are Greek of a kind, but +they are Alexandrian rather than Pheidian. They are as foreign to any +conceptions of the fifth century as they are to those of the Catholic +Church. The drunken, tottering Bacchus is as different from the early +conception of the God, who was thought of almost more as the sunshine +that makes the grape than as the juice itself, as the shrinking and +self-conscious Venus of the Capitol is from the Venus of Cnidos. In his +sensuality the Bacchus is un-Pheidian and in the humour introduced in +the group by the presence of his companion he is equally so. Humour was +not lacking to the Athenian, as the drama shows, but the fields of +sculpture and painting were not considered the proper place for its +display. + +In still another point is the statue of Bacchus comparable not to the +early but to the late Greek work, and that is in the realism of the +modelling and the action of the figure. Such modelling bears no relation +to the broad treatment of Pheidias. The latter shows no such +_morbidezza_, nor would he have dwelt on the repulsive unsteadiness of +the pose. Whoever it was that carved the famous Borghese Anacreon, and +it was some contemporary of Pheidias, shows us how the earlier Greek +artist felt towards drunkenness. The figure is under the influence of +his much-sung God Dionysos, but he is shown in attitude of mental +ecstasy not of physical uncontrol. What stamps the Bacchus and the Eros +(and much of his other work) as non-Greek is a lack not exactly of +beauty, but of delicacy and refinement, of charm. But each of these +characteristics that differentiates Michael Angelo’s work from that of +the Greek stamps it as a work of the Renaissance. The pleasure in +technical excellence, the realism and the representation of +unpleasantness are all qualities that recur over and over again in the +work of this vigorous, capable, unflinching, unbelieving period. + +Similar un-Pheidian qualities show in the figure of Eros in London, +which if not by Michael Angelo, is at least made entirely in his spirit. +The same realism of modelling is seen in the treatment of the head and +face, the same choice of an action inexpressive of the deepest meaning +of the figure. It is still less Pheidian in the vividness and intentness +of the action and expression which are not explained by the figure +itself, but the meaning of which is left to the imagination of the +beholder to discover. Dramatic quality of this sort is rarely found in +Pheidian work. The statues carved in that time were self-explanatory. +Single figures were often represented as intent or as full of movement +as the Eros, but their action is not motived by something outside +themselves. Hence they do not puzzle the beholder. The Anacreon, the +Discobolus need no explanation, but Michael Angelo’s Eros needs to be +grouped (at least in imagination) with some other figure before it can +be understood. It is like Myron’s Marsyas, splendid and suggestive but +incomplete.[32] Separate figures of the Parthenon pediments are as +dramatic as the Eros, but then they form part of a group and as such +their meaning was perfectly clear. + +An instance is found in one of the group of Gods on the eastern end of +the frieze of the Parthenon (Plate LVII). The figure is commonly called +Ares. He is seated forward on his throne, and holds one raised knee +between his clasped hands. Such an attitude, so lacking in grandeur, so +suggestive of restlessness, is well suited to the fiery God of Battles +and shows how free and ungoverned by conventions Pheidias could be. The +group as a whole is a perfect expression of the power of the master, to +be simple as a child in this treatment of the Olympians and yet never to +fail to produce work of supreme beauty. + +[Illustration: PLATE LVI.] + +This simplicity one notices in all Pheidian work, separating it sharply +from the later work in Greece and from most of the work in Italy, +particularly from that of Michael Angelo. Pheidias is not in the least +affected, but at the same time he is not actualistic. Of the hundreds of +figures in the full round and in relief that decorated the Parthenon +there is not one, nor even a group, that does not seem absolutely and +utterly simple and real. And yet there is not one of them which close +study does not reveal to be a marvellous composite of actions and forms +and draperies and expressions which all bear the stamp of idealisation +(Plate LVIII). The effect of perfection that the work conveys is due +perhaps to Pheidias not having tried to idealise in any vague or +artificial way, but to his combining an absolute dependence on Nature +for his models with a capacity of seeing, and solely representing, their +essential beauties. So while his figures are ideal in the sense that +they are more perfect than average mortals, yet they do not seem +unapproachable and unaccountable. + +Now this, we may freely grant, cannot be said of Michael Angelo’s work. +His figures are simple, yet it is not the simplicity of Nature but of +Art. A passing glance may find them equal to the Pheidian works, but a +more careful study shows that though true to Nature and possible in +action, they are, in respect to both body and attitude, improbable. They +are composed, and hence in a way untrue. The Pheidian beings seem those +of the Golden Age—perfect and unconcerned; while the others oftentimes +seem interested in their own perfection and desirous that it should be +admired. One knows enough of Michael Angelo to know that though +self-conscious, such thoughts were far from his mind and if, as I think, +they are to be seen in his work, it only shows that the time was +stronger than the man, for he lived in a period when affectation was not +uncommon. The grandeur of the Greek figures, as manifest in figurines as +in colossal works, is due to the beauty dependent on a mental poise; +that of the Florentine figures is due to their size and suggestion of +physical strength and to their facial and bodily expression that imply +the capacity of untold depths of passion—quite as physical a +consideration as that of size. + +Of course it may be said that the Eros is merely a study of the human +frame in a rather complicated position, but even so, my contention that +the figure is un-Pheidian still remains true. + +The strength of the action exhibited by this figure of Eros, the +tremendous play of muscle while at the same time the figure is thought +of not as in motion but as at rest, is what one finds in very many +figures painted and carved by Michael Angelo and forms one of the most +distinctive characteristics of his work. It shows in the Slaves, in the +Medici figures, in some of the sacred groups, in lesser measure but yet +distinctly in the David and Moses, and as clearly as possible in the +paintings of the Sistine Chapel. It is due to this in large degree that +these works are so well known, for they strike the eye of the casual and +impatient sightseer and they are remembered with much greater vividness +than work of a quieter and less excited character. In the hands of a +genius like Michael Angelo such treatment of the human figure, and the +choice of such positions, seem natural and give no sense of exaggeration +or restlessness. + +It is commonly held that genius is limited by no law, and in so far as +is meant thereby to imply that no bounds can be set to the concepts of +great minds, this is true; in the attempt to express such concepts to +others, however, the genius equally with less endowed mortals must be +limited by the laws that govern the material in which he seeks to find +expression. The penetration of a Sophocles or a Shakespeare into the +mysteries of life can have no measure set to it, but when they tell us +their thoughts, their words are bound by the laws of verse. No final +explanation can be given for the teeming imagination of Michael Angelo, +but some of his works may be criticised for not conforming to the laws +of space or material that govern the arts of painting and sculpture. He +sometimes shows a lack of _taste_. + +Genius shows in every touch of Michael Angelo’s hand, whether with brush +or chisel, but at times his work is unsatisfactory owing to its +exaggeration. No admiration is too great for specific qualities in +everything he did, but it is clear that the conception of beauty was not +held by him as essential. To Pheidias, on the other hand, it was of +primal importance. + +A comparison of the Parthenon pediments with the ceiling of the Sistine +Chapel may make clear my meaning. This is not the place for fine +analysis of either composition. Suffice it to say that in each case the +space has been filled by the decoration with a perfection and adequacy +that has never been again approached, but I think it will be generally +admitted that the chief impression of the pediments, shattered though +they are, is of beauty, while that of the ceiling is of power. Michael +Angelo tried at times to express in paint and stone what cannot be +clearly expressed in those substances. This was what I have referred to +as lack of taste. His Last Judgment is a striking case in point. He +attempted in that work to do what Milton or Dante succeeded in doing +better with more suitable means. Even the Chief Actor in the scene +lacked the quality of grandeur which Michael Angelo seems usually to +have found no difficulty in suggesting. It is perhaps because he felt +the inadequacy of stone or paint for the full expression of his ideas +that he left so many works uncompleted. + +Michael Angelo’s figures of Night and Dawn and certain figures in the +Sistine Chapel may be criticised for the exaggeration of their pose, +though how extraordinarily successful they are can be seen by comparing +them with similar figures by Vasari or other imitators of the master, +which invariably appear to be insecure and in danger of falling. The +difference in the kind of imitators who followed Pheidias, and those who +succeeded Michael Angelo, shows well one difference in their genius and +the effect on art in general that the two men had. + +Both men had numerous pupils and followers, but in the earlier time such +men served to keep Greek sculpture at its highest level, in the later +they brought on a rapid degradation of the art in Italy. The reason for +this different result is plain. Just as most people now see nothing in +Michael Angelo’s work but strongly modelled figures and vigorous poses, +not knowing enough of his life to comprehend what were the thoughts he +desired to express, so the artists in his own day thought the +magnificence of his work lay in its exterior form. Imitating this they +succeeded in producing only figures with unnaturally protuberant muscles +placed in uncomfortably contorted positions. Vasari and Bandinelli are +two instances in point. The painted figures of the former are as foolish +in their assertion of would-be grandeur as is possible to conceive, and +there are few things uglier or coarser than the group of Hercules and +Cacus by the latter. + +In Michael Angelo this insistence on the muscular development of figures +is an accident perhaps due to his delight (a pure Greek delight) in mere +physical strength, such as he himself possessed, but it is not the most +telling characteristic of his work. The truly essential part of his work +is the thought which his figures embody. His followers, being men of +little originality, as is shown by their trying to assume his +peculiarities, naturally succeeded not in making work like his, but work +which in reality serves to show their dissimilarity to their master. It +was unfortunate, also, that the very qualities which attracted them were +of a nature that if misunderstood lead to a more rapid debasement of art +and life than almost any other, for a love of mere physical strength is +a love of what allies one to the beasts of the field. Their work unites +them not so much to Michael Angelo as to the maker of what (with the +exception of the Laocoon) is probably the ugliest and most brutal work +preserved to us from antiquity—the Farnese Hercules. + +All this was very different in the case of Pheidias and his school. In +his work there was nothing superficial to catch the eye, no peculiarity +except the perfection and beauty that one feels instantly and yet +cannot, without much care, explain on what it depends. What was there +then for other artists to do if they felt his was perfect sculpture and +they desired to work towards it? His figures were calm and stately. His +greatness lay in his conception of the being he was called upon to +represent—in his point of view, that is. This showed itself not in a +technical skill superior to that of his fellow-workers, for the artists +then as in the Renaissance were in the main equally skilful, but in a +mass of infinitesimal details which not so much by themselves separately +as by their combination gave his work its everlasting charm. It would +not have taken a quick-witted Greek long to realise that to produce +Pheidian works he must look at life in a Pheidian way, and the more +successful his imitations the more calm, restrained and careful would +they be. This Pheidian point of view was such that his followers were +turned toward spiritual repose as the source of inspiration for their +works rather than toward restless activity. + +The complexity of the attitudes of Michael Angelo’s figures is scarcely +more noticeable than the multiplicity of the subjects he was called upon +to produce. Life was more complicated in his day than in that of +Pheidias, and there were more varied demands made upon the artist than +in the ancient times. While Pheidias, so far as we know, had to make +works solely for the state or for some public purpose, Michael Angelo +was forced to gratify the whim of various powerful employers. Oftentimes +such work, as for instance the Sistine Chapel, was of public character, +but more often it was not, so that in place of striving to embody the +ideals of the state whose greatest artist he was, he had to bend and +mould his genius to satisfy the personal ambitions of his masters. The +story of the Julian tomb illustrates this sad and thwarted part of his +career. Not only was he prevented from carrying out work already +undertaken in the way which he considered best, but also he was forced +to do that for which he felt himself unprepared by previous training and +unfitted by lack of interest in the subject. + +[Illustration: PLATE LVII.] + +That this was his mood at the time when, notwithstanding his arguments, +Pope Julius II compelled him, in 1508, to begin the work in the Sistine +Chapel, is known. If, when working against his will, he produced the +most wonderful bit of decorative and architectural painting the world +knows, one can but wonder what limit his talent would have reached had +he ever carried to completion any of his great sculptural undertakings. +Just as his capacity for mingling in his figures deep thought and +powerful action shows not a greater but rather a more varied genius than +that of Pheidias, so his capacities as painter, as architect, as +engineer show that circumstances led him to much greater variety of +activity than probably any ancient artist ever experienced. Not that +this varied activity must needs imply the possession of greater powers. +It implies merely the capacity of using an intellect highly trained in +one way for the accomplishment of purposes of more than one kind. That +is, it implies the possession by the artist of adaptability and of +common sense in its finest form, and the possession of these qualities +was not a rare characteristic in the Renaissance. Men of all kinds +showed it, but it is most marked when it appears as part of the mental +outfit of painters and of sculptors, men who too often adopt a pose of +what they consider simplicity and lack of knowledge of the world, as +though ignorance were the stepping-stone to great art. This was not the +condition of things in the Renaissance, nor, so far as the little +evidence we have allows us to judge, in Greece. It created no surprise +when Van Eyck and Rubens were considered as proper persons to be +entrusted with affairs of state, nor when the military protection of his +city was put into the hands of Michael Angelo, nor when Leonardo laid +out the irrigation system of Lombardy. Life is more complicated now and +in many lines work has to be more specialised—but this is no reason why +artists should be stupid. + +The fact that the talents required for painting and sculpture are not +incompatible is clearly shown by Michael Angelo’s works. The most common +criticism passed on them, and one that is in part true, is that his +sculptures are at times too pictorial while at others his paintings are +too sculptural. Certain it is that parts of the ceiling in the Sistine +Chapel look, at first sight, more like sculptured figures than like +painted decorations. Michael Angelo was unquestionably aware of this, +and the effect was intentionally sought by him. To state as a rule of +art that work on the flat should always look flat is a mistake. There is +no law of optics or of architecture which demands this. + +The application of the laws of art must depend on the individual +practitioner.[33] In treating the figures in the Sistine Chapel in a +sculpturesque way Michael Angelo produced a work more like the Parthenon +in the perfection with which the decoration is adapted to its position +than is elsewhere to be seen. He has used painting, that is to say, in +much of his design to suggest sculpture, which is the richer and more +suitable adjunct to most parts of architecture,[34] and thereby produced +a complex architectural work instead of producing merely a painting +which, like many of those in Venice, might equally well be placed +anywhere else. + +[Illustration: PLATE LVIII.] + +A comparison will make the point plain. Take most modern decoration of a +similar sort and how infinitely feeble and accidental it seems! Look at +the decorations of the Pantheon in Paris, of the Boston Public Library, +and the difference may be seen. Great painting one may see there, but +not great decoration of architectural works; and ceiling or wall +paintings are nothing else. Any one of these paintings taken from its +present position would look equally well on any other wall large enough +to hold it, or in any gallery, and would also have equal meaning there. +Not so Michael Angelo’s work. As a whole it could be put nowhere except +where it is, and if cut in pieces each bit would cry out in its solitude +and demand the juxtaposition of the other parts. The work is as perfect +a finishing of the Chapel as though it were some natural growth. This is +equally true of the sculptures of the Parthenon. How inconsequent and +unmeaning they look when taken from their natural place is shown in the +British Museum by the Athenæum Club and Hyde Park Gate in London. + +Michael Angelo’s other paintings also have a sculpturesque look. This is +partly due to the fact that the foreground, where atmosphere has little +effect, is more studied than the background. To him as to Pheidias the +human figure was of the deepest interest, but its natural surroundings +of little or none, so the figures are drawn with a distinctness and +illumined with an intensity of light which make them look more solid and +material than many a painter’s work. It does not mean that Michael +Angelo failed to understand the function of painting as a Fine Art. The +true function of art is the presentation of the ideal and this is done +by the translation of emotion. This translation of emotion, when +accomplished with the motive of giving pleasure by pleasing the senses +or elevating the mind, produces the noblest art, for this search for +pleasure is in healthy minds but the search for beauty, and beauty is +the suggestion of the ideal. This being the general function of Art each +one of the Fine Arts follows in ways individual to itself the search +after beauty in the translation of emotion. Music is the most subtle and +architecture is the most general of the arts, and poetry the most +commonly understood, while painting and sculpture, the terms of which +are hardest to define, are the most closely related. As an art +architecture is an expression of man as a social animal. Painting and +sculpture are its proper adjuncts. Painting ought to be merely the +representation by colour of three dimensional spaces in two dimensions, +while sculpture should attempt nothing but the rendering of forms in +full or partial relief. Each art _per se_ has special powers, but when +used as a detail of work of another kind, its peculiarities must then be +suppressed till it is in accord with the work of which it is a portion +or detail. + +Now this is exactly what Michael Angelo accomplished. It is natural for +painting, since it cannot represent figures in the round, to lay most +emphasis on the face, but when it is used to ornament the separate parts +of an architectural work, it must generalise its own peculiarities and +use them to enrich the architectural scheme. For in so far as painting +thus used impresses the beholder with its excellence as painting, by +just so far has the architecture become a frame for the painting and the +painting failed to be a glory added to the architecture. Michael Angelo +was a great enough genius to be able to use painting perfectly as an +additional splendour to his architecture. + +You do not think of the figures or pictures on the Sistine ceiling as +separate works—in large measure the composition is such that you +cannot—so much as the finishing ornament of the Chapel. This is because +the artist did not put the greatest amount of expression into the faces, +it permeates equally the whole body. Thus these grand creatures look +like sculpture, which is in fact, as more similar in its permanence to +architecture, the noblest means of decorating a building. Ceilings +cannot, it is true, be covered with carved figures, and great care +should be chosen in the scenes depicted on them, for they do not offer a +suitable position in which to hang pictures that are primarily conceived +as pictures. This was a common mistake of the Venetians, who covered the +ceilings of the Ducal Palace, Santa Maria del’ Orto and countless other +buildings with elaborate paintings of subjects that have no +architectural significance and cannot be thought of as scenes taking +place in the heavens. They are in fact large easel pictures and as such +would be better seen if hung upright on the wall than in their present +position. + +In the Sistine Chapel Michael Angelo showed his complete understanding +of painting as an ornament and finish to architecture, and in his easel +paintings he manifests, if not as complex effects as some painters, at +least as full a knowledge of what constitutes painting, from its roots +of drawing and composition to the full blossom of colour and expression. +Perhaps the most marked peculiarity of his paintings is the lack of +complex backgrounds of any sort, whether of landscape, or drapery, or +architecture. This again allies him to the Greeks, not to those of any +one age in especial, but to all, for the most marked difference (leaving +the less important matters of medium and technique aside) between their +paintings and those of modern times is, that they did not consider +backgrounds as a part to be treated with much elaboration or care. + +The Greek painter, we know, presented his scene with only enough +suggestion of the surroundings in which the figures stood for the +beholder to understand the general character of the spot where the +action was taking place. He lavished his care on the figures, and did +nothing to distract the full attention of the beholder from them. +Michael Angelo did the same. In so far as he rivets your whole attention +to the figures on the canvas, his painting is sculpturesque, but this +word cannot be applied to his work in the sense that he was ignorant of +the principles of painting as an art of expression. That in his painting +as in his sculpture he tended to overstep what are generally considered +the proper limits of the art is true, but this was due rather to great +knowledge than to any imperfect understanding. At such times he was +striking out into the unknown realms of discovery and searching for new +possibilities for the arts of which he was the most accomplished master +of the time. + +[Illustration: PLATE LIX.] + +I have tried to show how the general beliefs and ideals of the people +among whom they lived would have tended to differentiate these two +artists one from the other in certain ways and to ally them in certain +others. But different or similar, can it be said of either: this one is +the greater? I think not, even though one recognises that Michael Angelo +certainly gave more varied expression to his genius. Neither of them +shows a more complete understanding of the arts, or embodies a fuller +realisation of the ideal in his figures, than the other. + +Take for example Pheidias’s statues of Athena and Michael Angelo’s of +the Madonna. No artist could express all each of these beings suggests +in one figure, but it would be a hard task to find anything that they +did not show in one or the other of their several presentations. We know +with considerable accuracy what was the grandeur of the Athena +Parthenos, the guardian of her chosen people, and we also know the +divine rage felt by Athena the warrior Goddess driving Poseidon from the +sacred citadel; and finally we know by literary and probably by ocular +evidence with what consummate grace Pheidias represented Athena the +ideal of Attic maidenhood. There are many other statues of the Goddess +by other artists and from other periods but none I believe that add to +the realisation these three give us of what Athena was to the Athenians. + +In the same way Michael Angelo shows us the feeling of his time towards +the Virgin. In the figure at Bruges we see the youthful figure—the +Virgin of the Visitation. In the partially finished group in Florence +there is more trouble in the face, the feeling expressed in the words +“behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing” and “they +understood not the saying that he spake unto them” (Plate LIX). In the +Pietà in St. Peter’s her heart is numb with grief—the flood of sorrow +that has whelmed her is + + “Such a tide as moving seems asleep, + Too full for sound or foam, + When that which draws from out the boundless deep + Turns again home.” + +Her figure as shown us by other lesser men seems trivial or incomplete +when these are remembered. + +If one considers the larger undertakings of the two men, the Parthenon +and the Sistine Chapel, one cannot say that either surpasses the other, +though one can say with absolute security that neither has ever been +approached. In these works they show themselves the masters of all +craftsmen. Note the way in which the composition of the Parthenon groups +suits the long, low triangular space in which they are placed, each +group, taken as a whole, being made up of numerous lesser groups which +are quite perfect by themselves and so interwoven by means of upraised +arms or turned bodies or bits of floating drapery, that it is only after +careful observation that one sees how the artist made various parts +unite into one perfect whole. It is the acme of architectural sculpture. +It seems simple, but one searches in vain among the pediment groups that +have been made since for one that can approach it even distantly in +merit. It is this same intertwining of simple, unforced separate parts +into one grand, living completeness that marks out the ceiling of the +Sistine Chapel as a thing apart and unequalled. + +To compare the more private, perhaps more personal works, of the two men +is impossible, for the reason that nothing of this sort made by Pheidias +has been preserved for us. There are a few such by Michael Angelo, some +from his earliest years, as the Battle of the Centaurs, others like the +David or perhaps the Eros. From these we get a suggestion regarding the +ideas which Michael Angelo thought were to be expressed by sculpture. +The bas-relief showing the Battle of the Centaurs can, however, scarcely +be taken into consideration, for it is a work of his mere boyhood and +shows little except unusual power for a youth and an interest, which +apparently did not last, in subjects drawn from ancient art. The man’s +unconventional and powerful nature is shown by the fact that in his +mature years he did not ever, as most contemporary painters and +sculptors did, try to copy the antique in any way. His own mind was too +active for him to adopt either the subjects or modes of other men’s +work. So, too, in the case of Pheidias, his work does not suggest that +of any predecessor, but in later periods of Greek sculpture the figures +which hark back in some way to Pheidian originals are innumerable. + +In the David, in the figures in the Medici Chapel and those for the +Julian tomb one sees the same strained look: physical calm and great +strength combined with a marked expression of mental restlessness and +trouble, undoubtedly significant of Michael Angelo’s own feeling of +weariness and of the ‘powerful trouble’ that beset the world. Pheidias +came just at the acme of a great period. Michael Angelo, on the other +hand, felt that the light in the sky was that of the waning day, not of +the sunrise. His figures are sad; those by Pheidias are quiet and +peaceful. Society and the artist were in harmony in the case of the +Greek; they were not in accord in the case of the Florentine. + +Every point we study brings us to the same conclusion, that while each +of these men was the supreme master of his time and of incomparable +capacity, Pheidias had less to struggle against than Michael Angelo; and +through being able to carry out his ideas unhampered, he had a better +effect on his followers than Michael Angelo, whose works are in the main +monuments of thwarted purpose. Each sought unceasingly to embody in his +work ideals of beauty beyond the influence of contemporary events. In +the one case this was possible, in the other not. To the Greek, +contemporaneity was nothing, to the Italian, it was all. Where Pheidias +was called on to decorate the chief public building of Athens with +scenes of war which were known only by popular tradition and which were +instinct with poetry, Michael Angelo had to depict a battle that was a +mere incident of border warfare. Each of these men, however, enriched +the world with works that are unsurpassed, and similar work will never +again be accomplished. + +With the passing of the Greek world passed the ideals that inspired +Pheidias. Others came and faded away again with Michael Angelo. Their +works are immortal in the sense that in their kind they cannot be +superseded. But the arts themselves are not immortal, for this would +mean that they could not advance and develop. It is in this power of +growth and change and adaptation that art is allied to science, and we +turn to the most recent exponent of either with the incommensurable hope +that he may have found the master key to beautiful new worlds. + + + + + III. A HEAD OF ATHENA FROM CYRENE + + +In the first, and, as it was destined to be, the last report on the +excavations by the Archæological Institute of America at Cyrene,[35] I +published a marble head of Athena which we found a few inches below the +surface on the top of the Acropolis. + +The spot where it was found afforded no clew to its origin. It came to +light in a small room constructed probably in the later Ptolemaic times, +and had obviously fallen and been lost to sight, by one of those +inexplicable accidents familiar to all excavators, on the spot where our +picks discovered it. No temple stood near; no trace of pedestal could be +found and no other fragment of marble came from the torn covering of +protecting earth to help answer the eager questioning the quiet face +aroused. Except for a flake off the hair, the tip of the helmet +projecting over the brow, the edge of one ear and the point of the nose, +the marble was as fresh as the day the figure was first unveiled to the +worshipping multitude. (Plates LX, LXI.) + +The perfect head alone is left us to solve the riddles the archæologist +and artist may ask. Doubtless when in the oncoming years the Italians +have the satisfaction of finishing the work which we inaugurated and +made possible, further discoveries will dispel whatever doubts now +harass our minds, and students, forgetful of the time and circumstances +under which we wrought, will wonder why we hesitated, why we did not +see, why the closed lips did not speak to us with as clear a note as to +them. Doubtless, but still it seems likely that many years must elapse +before others will be able to finish our work, and in the meantime it is +well to bring this lovely bit of sculptor’s art more adequately to the +attention of students than seemed wise before the hope of continuing the +excavation was blighted by the careless hand of war. + +Before studying the special characteristics of this head of Athena and +showing how, notwithstanding the very numerous representations of the +warrior Goddess which we possess, it is entirely individual and unlike +any other, we may do well to recall certain facts regarding Cyrene as a +centre of Greek life and thought, facts that are not open to question, +being proved by historical and other positive evidence. The accounts +given by the ancient historians and poets of the foundation and rapid +rise to wealth of Cyrene were sufficient to make us certain that the +archæologist’s spade would find in plenty those beautiful monuments of a +long-since vanished spirit which make the work of the excavator on Greek +soil so entrancing and satisfying. + +Even at inaccessible Cyrene, however, we were not the first. In the +early sixties of the last century, Smith and Porcher, two fine examples +of men of English breadth of view combined with well-trained and +persistent capacity, had brought to light a considerable number of bits +of sculpture which showed clearly that Cyrene, like every other Greek +city, had once been a kindly nurse to artists. True though it be that +these broken fragments now sheltered in the British Museum were, with +the exception of a magnificent bronze head, of second-rate quality, +still they dispelled all doubt regarding one very important point; that +is, they showed that at Cyrene itself there were large numbers of +sculptors whose technical skill was of a high order. That there were +numerous sculptors was proved by the fact that the works found by Smith +and Porcher embraced a long stretch of years. + +[Illustration: PLATE LX.] + +At first sight this fact may appear little noteworthy, and its bearing +on our Athena head may not be perceived. It takes on a fresh aspect, +however, when we realise that there is no marble to be found within +hundreds of miles of Cyrene, and, in consequence, the stone must have +been imported to the city. It might be suggested that not the marble but +the finished carvings were imported, as we know from literary evidence +was sometimes done in other parts of the Greek world. Had the English +and ourselves found only one or two examples of supreme merit, this +theory might be tenable. No one, however, will attempt to uphold it in +the face of the numerous busts, statues, bas-reliefs, grave monuments +and inscriptions, many of which are of very little importance, which +were dug up by the Englishmen and ourselves. Portrait busts alone show +that Cyrene had her own sculptors who, even though they lacked the +advantage their _confrères_ of many Greek cities had in near-by +quarries, managed to overcome the difficulties Nature put in their way +and struggled to a mastery of their chosen art. The bearing of this on +the Athena will become manifest as we go further into the study of the +subject. + +If only another Pausanias, one might suggest, had gone sightseeing and +note-taking along the surprising shores of Libya, our work of +interpretation had been far simpler. But though we are not helped by +such written evidence, we can still discover the essential qualities and +meanings of these sculptures, and the diggers who in years to come drive +our trenches deeper into the ground will find nothing more unexpected +than the Athena, for she is the drifted seaweed that proves the still +invisible land. In fact, I for one am glad we have no Pausanias to dull +the edge of our wits with his bald and often erroneous statements. He +has helped much in making it possible to draw up chronological tables +and schedules of all sorts regarding the development of Greek sculpture, +yet had he never written, the true understanding of the art, the +comprehension of the forces that moulded it from the days of its early +promising effort through its bloom of unchallenged perfection on to its +phosphorescent decay, would have been not less full and possibly even +more intelligent than it is to-day. Pausanias and others of his kind +have handed down many names which mean, in truth, no more to us than the +titles “master this” or “master that” of the mediæval German school of +painting. Such facts and data are of infinitely little importance. Even +without them the razor-sharp critical powers of a Heinrich Brunn or an +Adolf Furtwaengler (before he gave up his energy to acrimonious and +petty dispute) were not to be denied and without any fictitious aid of +names would have interpreted Greek art to us. That there are always +blind souls who, when they see the Hermes of Praxiteles, think it Roman, +and consider the Maiden of Anzio a work of the time of the Antonines, +and who find other blind souls to follow them, does not delay the Brunns +and Furtwaenglers when they make their rare appearance in the world of +scholarship. + +Thus with no help or suggestion derived from information given us by +ancient travellers we start on our study of the Athena with the +knowledge that the technique of the art of sculpture was so well +understood, and the practice of it so common, at Cyrene, that we need +not, unless forced by internal evidence, look elsewhere for the nameless +sculptor who carved this masterpiece. The result will show that all the +internal evidence is in favour of its Cyrenean origin. + +Since, then, sculpture was at Cyrene, as everywhere else in the Greek +world, one of the common modes of expression, it remains for us to study +the influences to which it was subjected. We meet here the strange +phenomenon that the millennial-old civilisation of Egypt exerted +apparently no influence whatever on the young Greek town to the west. +That towards the end of the latter’s career, when she had fallen under +Ptolemaic control, she should be unaffected by Egyptian thought is not +surprising, for Egypt herself had at that time submitted to the spell of +Greece, and the true Egyptian art must have seemed to the fellahin who +then cultivated the Nile valley almost as strange as it does to us. If, +however, the often-expressed theory, supposed to be borne out by certain +statues found on the Acropolis of Athens and elsewhere, that the archaic +sculptors of the Greek mainland were more or less governed by Egyptian +ideals, be true, then it is odd that even the most archaic art of +Cyrene, represented by statuettes of the sixth century B.C., does not +exhibit a similar tendency. But this belief in the Egyptian influence on +the artists of Greece is based, it seems to me, on unsound evidence. + +There are obviously two, and only two, chief points to consider, if one +would fully understand a work of art. One is its outer form, the other +what it is trying to express; for even the childish and misdirected +efforts of the “Futurists” are an endeavour to express something—how +futile these efforts are is shown by the fact that were it not for the +titles given the works by the Futurists themselves no one, no matter how +capable an artist or how mystical a dreamer, could possibly guess what +they were intended to represent. The works show an even greater +confusion of mind than that of Father Castel who in the early part of +the eighteenth century attempted to make instruments which he called +_clavecin des couleurs_ and _clavecin des odeurs_, instruments intended +to produce by means of changing colours and perfumes the same effects as +music. + +Now one thing in very truth Greek art never was, either in poetry, +sculpture, painting, or in any other form: it was never confused, but +had always perfect lucidity. In sculpture, for instance, the composition +of the groups and figures, though often displaying an intricacy almost +as great as that of a knot by Leonardo, is never anything but clear to +the trained eye. To understand the value of this quality one need only +look at the work of Rodin, which, no matter what elements of greatness +it may be thought to have, certainly has not one slightest atom of Greek +quality. Besides the evil of confusion another failure sculpture may +show is the stagnation of formalism. This is one of the most noticeable +features of Egyptian art. Notwithstanding the wonderful technical +dexterity of the workers in that land, hieratic influences were too +strong for them and their natural impulses were shackled by the bonds of +dogma. This blight, too, the Greeks avoided. What then is the ground for +maintaining that their early art was influenced by Egypt? That the early +sculptors may have learnt many technical processes from Egyptians I +would neither deny nor affirm. They may even have had Egyptian teachers, +just as later the Romans had Grecian ones, but that does not mean that +Greek art was of necessity moulded in accordance with Egyptian feelings +and ideals. + +True it is that there are certain Greek statues which resemble in pose +and stiffness certain Egyptian statues, but there is a fundamental +difference between the two groups. The pose is an accident and can be +duplicated in work from other parts of the world. The fundamental +difference is that the stiffness of the Greek work does not represent +the formalism of Egypt, but it is due to the awkwardness of +inexperience. Take, for instance, the “Aunts” found on the Athenian +Acropolis. They are by an unpractised, stiff hand and in that sense they +are formal; but they are far more, delightfully spontaneous. Such work +would have been inconceivable to an Egyptian and would have seemed to +him irreligious and indecent. It is not to be thought that Greek art +even in its period of fullest bloom was not formal; it was. It was the +wonderful talent of the Greek clearly to understand the laws proper to +the various arts, but he was always spontaneous and original, and his +work exhibits formality but not formalism. + +These qualities are seen in the earliest work found at Cyrene, the +terra-cottas already mentioned. That they should be so manifested is but +another proof of the amazing force and individuality of the Greek mind. +Any other race would almost surely have felt the influence of Egypt. Her +territory joined that of Cyrene on the eastern border and the land +between the city and the Nile offered no barriers of mountains or desert +to hinder easy and comparatively rapid communication, yet the outer form +and inner content of these early Cyrenean figures is completely and +unmistakably Greek. That traders passed back and forth from one region +to the other cannot be doubted. Caravans plodded their slow way from the +sacred fountain to the mysterious river, coastwise boats skirted the +inhospitable shore even as they do to-day. The Greek, then as now the +costermonger of the Mediterranean, made his money, but he kept his +individuality. Throughout the centuries, until at last spiritual +aloofness was trampled down by a ruder and more powerful race, at Cyrene +as completely as at Athens, the Greek maintained his own standards and +beliefs. As the clumsy terra-cottas, wrought not very long after the +first settlers were guided to the spring which made a great city +possible, show this, so also does the Athena. Individual she is, and +unique, but she is pure Greek. The reasons for some part of her +individuality will become clear as we study her still further. + +We see, then, that the Athena is a work expressing with unveiled +distinctness the Greek spirit, and also that there is no reason to +suppose that the sculptor was other than Cyrenean; it remains to find +out at what date the figure was carved. Often a mere fragment like this +exhibits some detail that makes it easy to fix the date of its origin +with considerable accuracy. In this case the question is complicated by +both technical points and general considerations. Had this head been +found in Greece itself or in any part of the Greek portion of Asia +Minor, the history of which is well known and the art of which has been +laid bare by the archæologist, we should have various well-established +criteria by which to test and estimate the head. But the definite +historical records of Cyrene are very scanty, and though what is +probably in general a fairly accurate idea of the development of the +city can be built up from the verses of poets, the accounts of +historians and other sources of various kinds, still there is little to +help us date a single work of art. There is, however, no reason to +suppose that the deeper currents which gave the course to the life of +Cyrene were very different from those which guided the life of other +colonies. Pindar’s odes alone would serve to show that the African city +was in pretty constant relation with the mother country. Hence it is +safe to assume that the arts developed in Cyrene very much as they did +elsewhere in the Greek world. + +At the present time surely enough is known of the various parts of that +world to make us realise that all advance did not spring from Greece +herself. Though the Greek spirit was bound to express itself in similar +forms wherever Greeks settled, still sometimes one region, sometimes +another, was in the lead. Hence any chronological scale as applied to +art must be elastic, and one must not give way to the temptation to +judge every new find by the standards set by the artists of Greece +herself. Provincialism and archaism often take similar external forms. +So, too, it is a general law that colonies develop more rapidly than the +country from which they spring. A rapid development may be brought about +also by geographical and climatic conditions in places which, at first +sight, do not appear to be conducive to the advancement of art. + +In years to come it will be proved beyond a doubt, I believe, that +Cyrene was such a place. Her distance from the regions in which we are +accustomed to think of the Greeks as working out their destiny saved her +from the wastage of those wars which it is hard to regret because they +have given us immortal pictures of Greek courage and devotion. What her +relations with the native powers were we do not yet know, but had they +led to any such struggles as made the pride of Athens and the other +cities of the mother country, surely some echo would have reached our +ears. So we may think of Cyrene as waxing fat from the moment when the +first settlers, after their long wanderings to find a habitable spot, +climbed the rocky hillsides and quenched their thirst at the spring +which with its bright arms still holds a small settlement. It is for +these general considerations of easy colonial growth, and freedom from +external distractions, that I think the Athena can be safely dated +rather earlier than we should be tempted to date her had she been found, +let us say, in Athens or Sparta. + +The technical point which I mentioned as making it difficult to date the +head, is the helmet. It is of the Corinthian type, but there is nothing +in its general shape or details of form by which a date can be fixed. +Furthermore, it covers the head so completely that only a few waving +locks of hair over each ear and the heavy braid resting on the nape of +the neck are visible. This concealment of the hair takes away in large +measure one of the most helpful methods of dating statuary. + +[Illustration: PLATE LXI.] + +In the case of female figures, nevertheless, the treatment of the hair +is less helpful, perhaps, than in statues of the rougher sex because in +the former the more severe and orderly dressing of the bound locks gave +less chance for individuality of treatment than did the crisp and +wind-tossed curls of youths and men; still, even in the women’s figures +the hair very often betrays the date of the sculptor. Few though the +tresses are which escape the stern covering of Athena’s helmet, they are +sufficient to help us in our elusive pursuit. The general method in +which the hair is arranged, parted over the brow and drawn closely back +above the ears to a knot or short doubled up braid at the back, is one +that suffered but little change during several centuries. In the archaic +time the locks fell more loosely behind, while in the fourth century +they were more knotted, but these slight variations occur now and again +throughout the whole period of great Greek art and were due more to +individual fancy of artist or model than to the stifling rules of +fashion. + +But though we must finally conclude that the mode of wearing the hair +does not assist us, as the cut of the dress most certainly would have +done had we been fortunate enough to find the body of the statue, still +the tresses between the temple and the ear have a quality of their own +which points to a definite time. They suggest the loose waving form of +life with noteworthy success. The sculptor belonged to a period when the +special nature of marble was thoroughly understood. The period had +passed when bronze and marble were treated in almost identical fashion, +and the time had come when sculptors could manage various materials with +complete understanding and were enabled to reproduce surfaces or +substances in the way best suited to malleable metal or to friable +stone. + +The most perfect example of this understanding of substance which we +possess, and one that has never been surpassed, is the head of Hermes by +Praxiteles made in the first half of the fourth century before Christ. +The hair of the Athena is handled in much the same way. The locks and +strands are not sharply outlined and separated one from another but flow +from brow to neck in subtly broken masses among which the light plays in +and out as softly as in nature. This naturalistic treatment became +common after it had once been arrived at, but the tendency after the end +of the fourth century was to try for purer realism. This could not be +attained by greater skill in modelling and carving but only by polishing +or engraving the surface. The Athena exhibits neither of these signs of +decadence but the surface still shows that lovely dusty softness which +is characteristic of the best work of the late fifth and early fourth +centuries, a softness which would not have been imperceptible and +lacking in effect even when the figure was tinted with colour, as, +probably, all Greek sculpture was. + +It is not only the hair which suggests the date of the early fourth +century as the time when the Athena was made. The broad chin, projecting +well away from the neck, a chin that would be heavy, were it not for the +exquisiteness of its outline, which seems to have the living force of a +coiled steel spring, is such as was common in the fifth and early fourth +centuries. So, too, are the broad set, wide opened eyes overhung by the +long low curve of the brow. Not a sign in these of the sentimentally +dreaming eyes with their melting lower lids which we associate with the +work of the imitators and followers of Praxiteles; not a trace of the +furrowed brow and the eye gleaming, like a live coal, from the deep +shadowed socket such as we see in the work of Scopas and the superb +masters of Pergamon. + +In discussing such a fragment as this Athena it cannot be too clearly +remembered that the sculptor, like the poet, does but express his own +day, and if Praxiteles was delicate and sentimental or Scopas forceful +and passionate, it was because these were characteristic qualities of +their periods. These are, furthermore, exactly the qualities one would +expect at a time when old standards were beginning to be doubted and the +future offered nothing so substantial to take their place. + +The same phenomenon is seen in the seventeenth century of our era. In +both periods thoughtful people either clung to a sentimental repetition +of old ideas which no longer had life-giving and creative force, but +were loved and dwelt on for the sake of old association, or else they +were driven to a passionate striving after new and dimly seen hopes and +ideals. Sentimental dreaming took the place of good hope and assurance +while mystical passion took that of intelligent piety. In the face of +the Athena there is seen no sign of a troubled spirit, she is calm and +steadfast with the strength of perfect self-poise, which could hardly +be, were she sprung from a later time than the early fourth century. + +It has been insisted that there is in this head no trace of +sentimentality, and it may be thought that I have failed to notice, or +to give due weight to, the curious pose, drooping over slightly to one +side. This is one of the most noticeable points about the head, but, to +my mind, it expresses a feeling common in the fifth and early fourth +centuries and is not motived in the slightest degree by the later +sentimentality. In the old man seated on the ground in the Olympia +pediment, in the Mourning Athena at Athens, in most of the grave steles +of the late fifth and early fourth centuries, in the portrait bust of +Pericles, is to be seen, in the pose and expression of the figures, the +expression of a deep sentiment of combined gravity and tenderness. Again +and again this sentiment is expressed by the great dramatists in words +that ring down the centuries like distant bells. It is the recognition +of suffering and sorrow but also of the self-control that meets them +undismayed. When the Greeks lost their faith, at the same time they lost +this control. In the Demeter of Cnidos and the portrait of Mausolus +there are unmistakable signs of lack of control,—in the former the +startled pose, and in the latter the look of distress plainly visible in +the fine and vigorous face. The Athena resembles the Pericles and the +grave steles in this respect. The head leans over as though bent by the +wind (a position which emphasises the exquisite shape of the neck), but +in the steady, quiet eyes and in the sensitive closed lips one sees +plainly that simple directness that distinguished the Greeks of the +period to which I attribute this head, from all the other peoples who +have inhabited this earth. + +I have just mentioned the mouth of the figure, and this is the feature +to which I referred before as showing, possibly, the effect of local +circumstance on the sculptor. It is a very noticeable mouth; large with +unusually full and richly modelled lips—lips that could send the battle +cry echoing across the scarred and rock-strewn hills or could whisper +like the brook beneath the rosy-plumed oleanders. In shape it is by no +means a typical Greek mouth, but has a trace of the fuller form common +to the Libyans with whom the Cyreneans were in constant and close +intercourse. While it is true that history fails to note a single case +of an individual of pure black blood accomplishing anything of note +except in a military way, such do often possess great beauty of form and +feature, and this fact has been seized upon by the sculptor of the +Athena. With great skill he has softened the somewhat savage shape and +given it the lines that are consequent upon a higher civilization. + +We have come now to the end of our study of this bit of sculpture. It +could be compared indefinitely with other heads, and the similarities or +differences could be pointed out. Little would result, however, from +such comparisons. What is needed is more sculpture from the same region +with which to study the Athena. But till this is forthcoming, we are +left to the general conclusions derived from this single example. These +conclusions are that the Athena was carved by some as yet unknown artist +at Cyrene in the first half of the fourth century B.C. and that the work +differs from the Greek work we are accustomed to in showing local +characteristics both in special features and in method. This may seem to +be of small importance and the head to be unworthy so elaborate a +discussion; such would be the case were we to think of it merely as an +archæological remnant of a forgotten city and time. But this head is +more than a mere bit of flotsam. It is not a dead and meaningless +fragment, but has still the suggestive and creative power of any true +work of art. This vitality and artistic veracity are shown by the +extreme clearness with which it illustrates two of the fundamental +characteristics of the Greek genius—humanism and directness. + +The simplicity and directness of the Greek showed itself in all he did +or made. He never attributed human emotions to nature and never bound +himself with dogmatic conventions. For these reasons he was never +sentimental and never dry or false. He saw ugliness, moral as well as +material, in the world around him, but recognising that it in no way +added to happiness, he did not wallow in it and proclaim himself a +“realist.” When he came to consider religion he was straightforward in +his treatment of the Gods as he was with himself. They were but a +superior race born from the same great mother Earth (Pindar, Nem. VI. +1). Athena, the Goddess, is but a woman and nothing more. He saw +beautiful women in the cities where he dwelt and in form of their +physical perfection he represented the bright-eyed Goddess. He sought no +imaginary qualities, he attempted to express no hazy, mystical dreams +but finding beauty in mankind, he was satisfied to reproduce it so well +as might be. + +Ordinary everyday life was the chief interest of the thoughtful Greek. +He had the same circumstances of existence around him as we have to-day, +and knew just as much of the origin or the end of it all. Life, death +and the passing show of time were his schoolmasters as they are ours, +and from them he learnt humanism. He thought of the world not as a blind +accident nor as a mystical promise but merely as the setting for man and +hence the conduct of life became his chief interest. + +The Greek sought for all means whereby he might avoid the pitfalls of +youth, secure the comforts of well-rounded growth and minimise the +weaknesses and griefs of old age. To attain this ideal certain things +were seen to be necessary, and from Solon, who considered that the man +was happy who had health, good fortune, good looks and children, to +Aristotle, who (Rhet. 1360 b, 14) gave the same definition in a more +amplified form, the ideal did not alter. Even to-day there is but one +part of this that seems strange to us. That is the stress laid on +personal beauty. Good fortune, health, wisdom, children and particularly +wealth go to form the general ideal of the modern world, but there can +be only few who would admit that the desire for physical beauty was part +and parcel of their ideal. The Greek on the other hand frankly desired +it almost more than anything else and showed his perfectly simple and +entirely pleasant belief in its value by his games and by many a story +which he told as illustrative of enduring truths. One of these tales has +a bearing on the Athena of Cyrene. It is that of Peisistratus, who in +order to become ruler of Athens came there accompanied by a beautiful +woman in regard to whom he told the credulous citizens that she was the +Goddess Athena herself. + +Thus we see that it is due to no mere partiality for the pleasing form +on the part of the unknown sculptor that this head from Cyrene is +beautiful, but because his brain and hand were guided by ideals that +were second nature to him. As we grow familiar with the head, the +loveliness of every feature, the sharp insistence on sweet feminine +beauty make one wish destruction might fall on the vague and dreamy and +contorted realisms with which many of the modern artists would attract +our attention. The calm and steadfast eyes look at us across the +centuries and question our mysticism. The straightforward, immediate, +perfect humanity gives us pause in our mad search for novelty, and +should we conclude that this is perfect art, though we may lose the +sympathy of our contemporaries, we shall win the companionship of those +whose laurels are immortal. + + + + + GIORGIONE + + +_Although in the following Study of Giorgione I express certain +conclusions which seem to me certain, it is nevertheless probable that +there will never be absolute agreement about his works. The indubitable +facts concerning him are so very few that no two critics can be expected +to see the matter eye to eye. I disagree in many points with the +pathbreakers Morelli and Berenson, but it should not be forgotten that +the knowledge of such men gives an added keenness to the innate powers +of perception of those who come after them. Their torch lights ours, and +so the path is pursued._ + +_The publication of Justi’s valuable work on Giorgione (Berlin, 1908), +in which all the pictures still in existence that have bearing on +Giorgione are reproduced, makes full illustration of this Study quite +unnecessary._ + + + I. PAINTINGS ATTRIBUTED TO GIORGIONE + +A great upheaval and destruction of old traditions has taken place of +late years in regard to paintings, and while much truth has been brought +to light, a great deal of fancy has been given the semblance of +veracity. The name of Morelli is familiar to all who take a serious +interest in the paintings of the Italian schools, and though he was not +the first to practise what not inaptly has been dubbed the ‘toe-nail’ +method of criticism, yet his writings are more voluminous than those of +other authors, and exemplify this method of criticism more completely, +so that he may be taken as the protagonist of the school. It was the +development of photography, and the vast increase in the number of +pictures of which photographs could be procured, which gave rise to the +Morellian school. The writers of earlier days who could not have before +them on their tables, or carry with them to the galleries, a large +quantity of reproductions of the works of any one master, were in a +large measure prevented from studying the comparative likenesses or +dissimilarities of such pictures. + +But, as was natural, with this intensive study of photographs has come +about a microscopic method of looking at pictures which often disregards +the larger and more unquestionable qualities, and satisfies itself with +tricks of drawing and the painting of details. It is as though instead +of considering the structure and content of a book, one should measure +the lines and number the punctuation points. It is within the realm of +possibility that the day has passed for treatises based on such thorough +study and acute perception of the qualities expressed by the Italian +painters as were written by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, or such +magnificently imaginative and poetic interpretations as the enduring +verities first enunciated by Ruskin. + +Not that these men did not make mistakes. Had they never done so we +should not be able to give a true valuation to their work. Stupidity is +not demonstrated by the making of blunders but by the spirit that +animates the person at the moment of their commission. Ruskin, to +illustrate by means of the brightest example, realised that paintings +are expressions of thought just as much as are printed books, and that +they are to be read and understood not by adding the vowels together in +one heap and the consonants in another, but in their entirety. + +Morelli and his followers, on the other hand, are obviously in large +measure satisfied by an analysis of external forms and if they discover +that each of two pictures presents the same number of curved and +straight lines, no further proof is needed to satisfy them that the same +author is responsible for both works. It is true that details of style +must be studied and were often neglected by the earlier critics, but the +famous proof of the identity of Moses and Melchisedek—“you take off the +-_oses_ and add the -_elchisedek_”—will never satisfy many people. +Morelli forgot that it requires no special perception to discover that +Botticelli gave his figures square nails on their toes and fingers, or +that the knuckles of Rosselli’s figures are apt to be swollen. But it is +exactly this kind of observation which copyists possess. By the +observation of such points one is able to say only that such and such a +work is externally like the works of this or that artist, but that it is +by him depends on quite other proofs. + +One or two examples will show the fallacy of such a method of argument. +There is in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts a picture representing the +Virgin and Child with St. John. The name of Botticelli is on the frame. +So far as finger nails or shape of nostril or locks of hair or position +of fingers go (and all these details are peculiarly treated by +Botticelli), the work might be considered to be by him. It is, however, +certain that Botticelli was not the painter of the panel. Among several +circumstances that demonstrate this, such as the method of painting +employed by the artist, there is one that has to do with the spirit of +the work, and which in itself is sufficient proof: I refer to the figure +of St. John. We have enough works by Botticelli, the authenticity of +which is established beyond all question, to know that he could never at +any period of his career have represented this character with a simper +that reminds one of Francia’s sentimental figures. + +The picture is by a feeble imitator of the master. The works of +Botticelli and his imitators offer, because of the very marked +peculiarities of the master, extremely good examples to show what +mistakes arise by relying too exclusively on the Morellian method, and +in both public and private collections are many pictures showing the +mannerisms of the Florentine but which are certainly not by him.[36] +Take another master, Leonardo. There has lately gone to America[37] a +panel representing the head of a woman. It was left by Morelli when he +died to Donna Laura Minghetti. To the followers of Morelli, the picture +seemed for a long time genuine enough, but when the style of the +headdress, the tone of the colour and character of the painting, and +lastly the position of the head on the panel itself, had been studied, +it became evident that the painting was a modern forgery, and this was +further proved when an attempt was made to clean the panel. + +These illustrations are sufficient to show that the final judgment of a +picture should be based on more than its technical peculiarities. The +observation of these is good to begin with, but it does not suffice. +That even Morelli himself instinctively felt the weakness of his method +is shown in a most humorous way in his description of his “discovery” of +the author of a portrait of a woman in the Borghese Gallery. + +He tells us how before he looked at this canvas with _kritischem Auge_ +he had first thought it to be by Dosso Dossi and then by Sebastiano +Luciani. The rest is too naïve to translate, it must be given verbatim. +“Eines Tages jedoch, als ich wieder fragend und entzückt vor dem +mysteriösen Bilde stand, begegnete mein eigener Geist dem des Künstlers, +welcher aus diesen weiblichen Zügen heraussah und siehe da, in der +gegenseitigen Berührung zündete es plötzlich wie ein Funken und ich rief +in meiner Freude aus: Nur du, mein Freund, Giorgione kannst es sein, und +das Bild antwortete: Ja, ich bin’s”; and then follows analysis and +dissection of the portrait. + +The still small voice of his soul having interpreted the riddle of the +picture he _then_ saw that the eye, the expression, the mouth were such +as only Giorgione could paint. In a critical case like this Morelli had +to look first to something other than anatomical or sartorial shapes. +Unfortunately, in this particular case, he has convinced but few +students by this sudden and mysterious interpretation of the picture, +and only his most ardent apostles see in the ill-drawn portrait anything +but a feeble imitation of certain of the less subtle qualities of the +great Venetian. + +Morelli made, however, other discoveries in regard to Giorgione of +greater import than this; but before taking them up in detail it will be +worth while to fix clearly in our minds what we know about the +Venetian’s work from contemporary or approximately contemporary writers. +Vasari and Ridolfi do not, indeed, fail to give the name of Giorgione to +many a picture that had never felt the artist’s brush, but they saw many +a picture that has since disappeared and what they tell us is the basis +of all modern criticism of this most poetic of all the Venetians. I +believe it can be shown that much which the earlier writers said of him, +and which has since been forgotten or unwisely disregarded, is true. + +I will say nothing of the life that Giorgio Barbarelli Giorgione, +Zorzone as his comrade Venetians called him, led. That has little to do +with us. I wish merely to show which pictures now labelled with his name +may in my opinion be confidently accepted as his, and which ones we are +justified in taking from him. In his early days he painted, says Vasari, +in the second edition of the “Lives”: + + 1. Many pictures of the Virgin. + + 2. David, armed and with long hair, holding the head of Goliath. + + 3. Warrior with a red cap, a fur cloak and a silk jacket. + + 4. Child. (2, 3, and 4 were owned by the Patriarch of Aquileia.) + + 5. Portrait of Giovanni Borgherini and his master. + + 6. Head of a warrior, owned by Anton de’ Nobili in Florence. + + 7. Portrait of Consalvo Ferrante. + + 8. Portrait of the Doge Leonardo Loredano. + + 9. Many other portraits. + + 10. Frescoes on the Ca Soranzo in Venice—one representing a figure + of Spring. + + 11. Frescoes on the front of the Fondaco de’ Tedeschi—the scenes + were apparently fantastical or allegorical. + + 12. Christ carrying the cross, in the church of San Rocco. + + 13. A nude figure to show that by means of reflections painting is + able to show all parts of a thing at once. + + 14. Portrait of Catharine, Queen of Cyprus. + + 15. Portrait of one of the Fugger family. + +This list suffices to show that Vasari’s knowledge of Giorgione’s work +was slight—and we can prove furthermore it was also imperfect. This is +disheartening enough, but a still greater disappointment comes from the +fact that of this list of fifteen numbers (including of course many more +than fifteen pictures) there are but five of which either the originals +or copies are preserved to-day. These five are Nos. 2, 5 (?), 11, 12, +and 15. Numbers 5 and 15 are certainly not by Giorgione. The former is +not improbably the picture in Berlin (No. 152) of which a replica is in +the Louvre (No. 1156), both pictures attributed merely to the Venetian +school, and the latter hangs in the Munich Gallery (No. 1107) under the +name of Cariani.[38] No. 2 is usually thought to be the picture in +Vienna, but Justi (Georgione, p. 182) shows that it may be a picture in +Brunswick.[39] + +Ridolfi gives a much longer list of Giorgione’s works: + + 16. Madonna enthroned, in the church of San Liberale in + Castelfranco. Portraits. + + 17. The dead Christ held by angels, at Treviso. + + 18. Frescoes on Giorgione’s own house in Venice. Figures and + fantasies. + + Frescoes on the Ca Soranzo (same as No. 10). Destroyed all but a + woman with flowers in her hand and Vulcan who whips Cupid. + + 19. Fables from Ovid; among them Apollo and Daphne, and Zeus as a + bull with Europa on his back. These showed strong landscape + feeling. Gigantomachia. Deucalion and Pyrrha. Apollo and the + Python. Apollo and Daphne. Io. Phaethon. Pyrrhus and Phlegon. + Eos. Diana and Callisto. Mercury stealing Apollo’s herds. Jove + and Europa. Cadmus and serpents’ teeth. Actæon. Venus and Mars + caught by Vulcan. Niobe. Jove and Mercury at the house of Baucis. + Ariadne. Alcides. Achelous. Deianeira. Loves of Apollo and + Hyacinth. Venus and Adonis. Those owned by Sig. Vidman were: + birth of Adonis, Adonis and Venus, Adonis’s death. + + Portraits (cf. No. 9): Agostino Barbarigo, Catharine Cornaro + (perhaps the same as No. 14), Consalvo Ferrante. + + 20. Frescoes on the Ca Grimani alla Servisa (Nude woman of + beautiful form); on a house on the Campo di Santo Stefano, near + S. M. Giubenico (Bacchus, Venus and Mars, half figures, + grotesques and _putti_); and on the Fondaco de’ Tedeschi (same as + No. 11), _trofei_, nudes, heads, allegorical figures measuring + the world. Man on horseback. + + 21. A concert (now in the Pitti). + + 22. Allegory of human life in Casa Cassinelli, Genoa (Nurse holding + crying child, and a knight; Youth disputing with Philosophers, + and an old man). + + 23. Celius Plotius attacked by Claudius. + + 24. Family group—un vecchio in atto di castrare un gatto. + + 25. Naked woman and shepherd. She smiles at him as he plays his + pipe. + + 26. David, a knight and a soldier, owned by And. Vendramin. + + 27. Naked Venus “ignuda dormiente,—è in Casa Marcella è a piedi è + Cupido con augellino in mano.” + + 28. Woman dressed as a gipsy, in house of Gio. Batt. Sanuto. + + 29. Saul holding by the hair the head of Goliath brought to him by + David. Owned by the Signori Leoni di San Lorenzo. + + 30. Judgment of Paris, owned by the Signori Leoni di San Lorenzo. + + 31. Judgment of Solomon, in Casa Grimana di Santo Ermacora; the + figure of the executioner unfinished. (Now at Kingston Lacy, + England.) + + 32. Virgin, St. Jerome and other figures, owned by Signor Gussoni. + + 33. Warrior, owned by Signor Ruzzini. + + 34. Knight with black armour, owned by Signori Contarini da S. + Samuello. + + 35. Half figure of St. Jerome reading, owned by Signori Malipieri. + + 36. Portraits of Luigi Crasso, seated, with spectacles in his hand. + Owned by Nicolo Crasso. + + 37. Story of Psyche. Twelve pictures. + + 38. St. Sebastian, in the Chiesa della Annunciata, Cremona. + + 39. St. Sebastian,—three-quarter length, owned by Prince + Aldobrandini. + + 40. David, owned by Prince Borghese. + + 41. A youth with a curious fur cloak, owned by Signori Muselli in + Verona. + + 42. Christ led to Calvary, with Mary and the virgin Veronica, + figures half life size. + + 43. Head of Polyphemus. + + 44. Portraits of women with strange ornaments and feathers in their + hair. + + David with long hair, dressed in a corselet and with the left hand + in the hair of the head of Goliath (same as No. 2). This was a + portrait of himself. + + 45. A general. + + 46. Youth with soft hair and armed. + + Portrait of one of the Fuggers (same as No. 15). + + 47. A nude figure with a green cloth over his knees and armour + beside him, owned by Van Veert in Antwerp. + + 48. ‘Some say that he began’ the picture of Pope Alexander III and + Frederick I in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio in Venice. + +This list is disappointing in the same way as the previous one, but, +nevertheless, several of the numbers may be added to the list of +pictures which are preserved. Besides those already noted in Vasari’s +list Nos. 16, 17, 19 (?), 21, 23, 26, 27, 30, 31, 38, 40, exist in one +form or another, but Nos. 17, 21, 23, 38 and 40, though still preserved, +are not by Giorgione. No. 17 has nothing whatever to do with Giorgione, +and is attributed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle to Pordenone. Whether this +is by him is more than doubtful; I will speak of it in detail and also +of 21 later. No. 23, called The Bravo, is in Vienna and is perhaps by +Cariani; 30 is probably by Campagnola and is known by copies.[40] No. 38 +is in the Brera and is by Dosso Dossi, who was also the painter of 40, +which is still in the Borghese Gallery. No. 48 was probably the same +picture as that mentioned in the Venetian archives under date of August +14, 1507, and was probably destroyed in the fire of 1575.[41] + +[Illustration: PLATE LXII.] + +Another author from whom we are able to gather more and important +information, is Marc Antonio Michiel, more commonly known as the Anonimo +Morelli. Among the pictures which he saw in Venice and neighbouring +towns were several attributed to Giorgione: + +/# 49. Head of a boy holding an arrow. Owned by Ant. Pasqualino, who +obtained it from Zuanne Ram. + +50. Head of San Giacomo holding a pilgrim’s staff. Owned by Ant. +Pasqualino. + + The Anonimo states that this was either by Giorgione or by one of his + pupils and that it was copied from the Christ in the Church of San + Rocco. + +51. St. Jerome, nude, seated in a desert place in the moonlight; “copied +from a work by Giorgione.” Owned by And. Odoni. + +52. Three Philosophers. Owned by Taddeo Contarino. + +53. Hell, with Æneas and Anchises. Owned by Taddeo Contarino. + +54. Landscape with the birth of Paris. “One of his early works.” + +55. Portrait of Geronimo Marcello, armed,—the body turned away from, and +the head towards, the spectator. Owned by Geronimo Marcello. + + Nude Venus, sleeping in the open air. “The landscape and the Cupid + were finished by Titian.” Owned by Geronimo Marcello (same as No. + 27). + +58. St. Jerome reading. Half figure (same as No. 35?). Owned by Geronimo +Marcello. + +59. Soldier armed, but without a helmet. Half figure. Owned by +Zuanantonio Venier. + +60. Head of a shepherd. In his hand a fruit. Owned by Zuanne Ram. + + Head of boy. In his hand an arrow. Owned by Zuanne Ram (same as No. + 49). + +61. Stormy landscape with a gipsy and a soldier. Owned by Gabriel +Vendramin. + +62. Dead Christ and an angel holding him above the tomb. Finished by +Titian. Owned by Gabriel Vendramin. + +63. Nude figure in a landscape. Pen drawing. Owned by Michiel Contarini. + +64. Finished picture of No. 63. Owned by Michiel himself. + +65. Portrait of Giorgione’s father. Owned by Piero Servio. #/ + +Of this list, the particular value of which lies in the fact that it was +made by one whose early years were probably contemporary with the close +of Giorgione’s life, Nos. 52, 54, 61 and perhaps 62[42] are still +(either the originals or copies) in existence. No. 59 suggests a picture +in the Colonna Gallery in Rome which has much Giorgionesque feeling, but +is in a ruined condition. + +Still another writer who mentions several pictures by the master is +Giacomo Barri. I quote the passages from the English translation of his +book:[43] + + Page 106. Castelfranco. “Here is an admirable Picture of the _Blessed + Virgin with her Son_, the work of _Giorgione_. There are likewise + divers Palaces near adjacent where you will find works of the same + _Giorgone_ as also of Paulo Veronese.” (Same as No. 16.) + + Venice, page 52. “And upon a front of a House near the house of the + _Pisani_, and the Palace of the _Flangini_, in _S. Maria Gibenigo_, + there are painted by the hand of _Giogone_, many _Freezes_ in _Chiaro + Scuro_, in Yellow, Red, and Green, with rare fancies of _Boys_, in the + middle of which are four Half-figures, _viz._, A _Bacchus_, a _Venus_, + a _Mars_, and a _Mercury_, coloured after the usual manner of the + Author.” (There is a note added to the words “the usual manner” which + reads: “Which was not to paint in above two or three colours.”) (Cf. + No. 20.) + + Page 56. The ‘Fontico de Todeseti’ is mentioned. (Same as No. 11.) + + Page 56. “In the field or place before S. Pauls you plainly see upon + the Front of the House of _Soranzo_ several Figures of Giorgone, most + beautiful things.” (Same as No. 10.) + + Page 67. “The _albergo_ of the said school [School of St. Marks]. As + you enter, the first square on your left hand is by _Giorgone_.” + + Page 84. “_The Church of the_ Hospital _of the_ Incurabili.” “And over + a side Door of the Church you may observe a little Square of our + _Saviour carrying the Cross_ and an Executioner drawing him along, by + the hand of _Giorgone_.” (Same as No. 12.) + + Treviso, page 97. “The Mountain of Piety _in the aforesaid_ City.” + “Here they preserve a _Christ_ with a little _Angel_, a most singular + work, by the hand of Giorgone.” (Same as No. 17.) + + Cremona, page 114. “Here is a picture of S. _Sebastian_ and two + _Angels_ by the hand of Giorgone.” (Same as No. 38.) + + 67. Parma, page 126. In the Palace of the _Fontana_. “There is also + the picture of _Fra Sebastiano del Piombo_, a Painter, the work of + _Giorgone_.” + +Only two pictures (66, 67) not mentioned by the other authors are given +in this list, and one of these, the portrait of Sebastiano del Piombo, +has, I believe, been lost sight of. The picture that was in the School +of St. Marks now hangs in the Academia in Venice. It represents the +story of the calming of a storm by the saints Nicholas, George and Mark. +Some students consider this picture to be a work by Giorgione much +repainted by Palma or Paris Bordone. Others, with whom I agree, fail to +see in this ugly work the slightest suggestion of Giorgione. + +These then are the chief early sources for our knowledge of the subjects +painted by Giorgione. If the list of his works seems small, it must be +remembered that the painter was only some thirty-three years old when he +died. The inaccuracy of the attributions made by these writers shows how +careful one must be in dealing with the information they give us, and +suggests the reflection that probably they were as careless in failing +to speak of works that were certainly by the master as they were in +mentioning others which unquestionably were not by him. All new +attributions must, however, be based on a comparison with the few works +which unbroken tradition and common consent give to Giorgione, and not +with those about which trained opinion differs. Individual judgment as +to the likeness one picture bears to another is very different from +convincing proof. Before criticising individual works we must consider +the basis for discussion that the lists present. + +Of the sixty-seven different items mentioned, the following are known to +us.[44] 1 (?), 2, 5 (?), 11, 12, 15, 16, 17, 19 (?), 21 (?), 23, 26 (?), +27, 29 (?), 30, 31, 38, 40 (?), 42 (?), 52, 54, 61, 62 (?), 66. Of these +only 2, 5 (?), 11, 12, 16, 21 (?), 22 (?), 26 (?), 27, 31, 52, 54, 61, +62 (?) need be considered as being related in any close way to +Giorgione. The claims of Cariani, Licinio, Della Vecchia, and the host +of other, generally feeble, imitators of Giorgione to the other pictures +may be studied in Crowe and Cavalcaselle, or later works. Even some of +the works included in the small list just given are not accepted as +genuine by all the critics, but a few there are the authenticity of +which could only be questioned by bringing much more serious evidence +against them than I have ever seen adduced. These rare, choice works +are: + + 2. David, armed, holding the head of Goliath. Now in Vienna. This + is not the original, but, as noted by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, a + late copy. I own another copy, on panel, which shows the lower + part of the picture better than the Vienna copy. + + 11. Frescoes on the Fondaco dei Tedeschi. Preserved, except a + fragment only, in Zanetti’s engravings. + + 12. Christ carrying the Cross, in the Church of San Rocco, Venice. + + 16. Madonna enthroned, in the Church of San Liberale in + Castelfranco. + + 27. Naked Venus, asleep, in Dresden. Some critics still hesitate to + accept Morelli’s attribution of this canvas to Giorgione, but the + greater number have, I believe, given a ready assent. + + 31. The Judgment of Solomon. Now at Kingston Lacy (Plate LXII). + This, the Castelfranco Madonna, and the Three Philosophers, are + in certain ways the most important works of the painter now + existing. + + 52. Three Philosophers. In Vienna (Plate LXVI). + + 54. Landscape with the Birth of Paris. A fragment of a poor copy of + this is preserved in Buda-Pesth. An engraving by T. van Kessel + from a copy of the picture by Teniers shows what the whole + composition was. + + 61. Stormy landscape, with a gypsy and a soldier. In the Palazzo + Giovanelli, Venice (Plate LXV). + +To these nine unquestioned works by Giorgione are to be added others +that have no early literary evidence to bear out their claims to a +Giorgionesque origin, but which unbroken tradition resisting even the +assaults of modern criticism has assigned to this category. Such are: + + The Judgment of Solomon, in the Uffizi. + + The Fire-test of Moses, in the Uffizi. + + Knight of Malta, in the Uffizi. + + Head of Christ carrying the Cross, formerly in the Palazzo Loschi + Vicenza, and now in Mrs. Gardner’s Collection in Boston (Plate + LXVII). + + Study for the figure of San Liberale, in the Castelfranco picture, in + the National Gallery, London. + +So far as the giving of any certain knowledge of Giorgione’s technique +is concerned, the first three of these pictures are very disappointing, +for all of them have been so thoroughly repainted that the original work +is much injured. While most critics follow the tradition and believe +Giorgione to have been the painter of these pictures, there are those +who do not hold this opinion. For instance, Dr. Bode, one of the keenest +judges of pictures, does not think the Judgment of Solomon, and the +Trial of Moses, to be by him.[45] Others there are who think that the +judgment passed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle on the Knight of Malta is very +sound and satisfactory. They say: “Giorgione’s work was altered by later +retouching, or the painter is a skilful imitator of Giorgione’s manner.” +Personally, I believe all these to be by him. + +Taking now these fragments of written evidence and of tradition, let us +see what the modern writers of most repute have considered to be +examples of Giorgione’s work. To begin with Crowe and Cavalcaselle, they +give as true Giorgiones the following: + + The Fondaco de’ Tedeschi. + + The Christ in San Rocco. + + The Judgment of Solomon at Kingston Lacy. + + The Chaldæan Sages (the Three Philosophers). + + The Family of Giorgione (the picture in the Giovanelli Palace). + + The Castelfranco Madonna. + + The David in Vienna, of which they say “this is a late copy, perhaps + after the original noted by Vasari.” + +Of the traditional pictures they consider as the master’s work: + + The Judgment of Solomon, in the Uffizi. + + The Trial of Moses, in the Uffizi. + + The Knight of Malta (?), in the Uffizi. + +They add: + + The Shepherd’s Offering in the Beaumont (now Lord Allandale’s) + Collection, London. + + The Adoration of the Magi, in the National Gallery, London; formerly + owned by Sir William Miles, of Leigh Court. + +These last two pictures are much less well known than the others. I +shall endeavour to show that the later attributions of them to Catena or +others are based on a mistaken idea of Giorgione’s style (not to mention +Catena’s), and that Crowe and Cavalcaselle were perfectly right in their +estimate of them. Other pictures which are often thought of in +connection with Giorgione and which they, quite rightly I believe, +refused to acknowledge, are: + +[Illustration: PLATE LXIII.] + + The Concert, in the Pitti. + + The Fête Champêtre, in the Louvre. + + Madonna and Saints, in the Louvre. + + Nymph and Satyr, in the Pitti. + + The Head of a Boy, at Hampton Court. + + The Madonna and Child with St. Brigida, in Madrid. + +To take more modern writers, we find a very different list of works +attributed to Giorgione by Morelli.[46] It consists of the following: + + The Trial of Moses. + + The Judgment of Solomon.[47] + + The Christ bearing the Cross. + + The Madonna of Castelfranco. + + The Gypsy and the Soldier (Giovanelli Palace). + + * The Madonna and Child with Sts. Antony and Roch. (Madrid.) + + The Knight of Malta. + + † * Daphne and Apollo. This is in the Seminario of St^a Maria della + Salute in Venice. Crowe and Cavalcaselle (II. 165) attribute it to + Andrea Schiavone, and with their opinion I agree. + + * The Three Ages of Man, in the Uffizi, ascribed usually to Lotto. + + The Concert, in the Louvre. (Same as Crowe and Cavalcaselle’s Fête + Champêtre.) + + The Fragment of the Birth of Paris, in the Esterhazy Gallery, + Buda-Pesth. + + * Portrait of a Man, in the Esterhazy Gallery. + + * Portrait of a Woman, in the Borghese Gallery, Rome. + + † Nymph and Satyr, in the Pitti. + + † Portrait of a Youth, in Berlin. + + † Head of a Boy, in Hampton Court. + + Three Philosophers, in Vienna. + + * Venus in Dresden. + + † Allegory, in Dresden. { These Morelli considers copies + † Judith, in St. Petersburg. { of Giorgione’s work. + +The pictures I have marked with an asterisk are those which Morelli was +the first to claim with insistence for Giorgione, and with the exception +of the Venus not one of these attributions has been generally accepted. +Those marked with a dagger are attributions of older or younger date. +About all of them, certain doubts, and about most of them doubts of very +serious nature, must be dispelled, before the attribution can be +accepted. + +The two points most noticeable in Morelli’s list are the differences in +the style of the pictures included and the absence of others. It would +be difficult to combine works more dissimilar than the Berlin portrait +of a youth and the portrait of a woman in the Borghese, and even if one +grants that an artist working at the time when Giorgione flourished was +subjected to influences so strong and varied that the character of his +work altered from time to time, it can only be explained by a miracle +that the same man painted the Castelfranco Madonna and the Daphne and +Apollo. Even the last dashing works of the century-old Titian differ +hardly more from his calmer earlier canvases than do these two pictures, +which Morelli would have us believe were painted by a man who died at +the age of thirty-two or thirty-three. This curious, one may not +unfairly say erratic, combination of Morelli may perhaps be explained by +supposing, as is true in other parts of his work, that he was so taken +up with the similarity of certain details that he forgot to study the +larger and more telling characteristics of the pictures. But what +explanation is there of his strange silence regarding the Benson[48] and +Beaumont pictures, the Judgment of Solomon at Kingston Lacy, the Vienna +David, and the Christ bearing the Cross in San Rocco? + +A later and slightly different form of the Morelli list is given by +Berenson.[49] It is as follows: + + Berlin, Portrait of a Man. + + Buda-Pesth, Portrait of a Man. + + Castelfranco, Duomo, Madonna with Sts. Francis and Liberale. + + Dresden, Sleeping Venus. + + Florence, Uffizi, Trial of Moses; Knight of Malta; Judgment of + Solomon. + + Hampton Court, Shepherd with Pipe. + + Madrid, Madonna with Sts. Roch and Antony of Padua. + + Paris, Fête Champêtre. + + Rome, Villa Borghese, Portrait of a Lady. + + St. Petersburg, Judith (?). + + Venice, Academy, Storm calmed by St. Mark. Finished in small part by + P. Bordone. (In the edition of 1894, Berenson attributed this to P. + Bordone, saying that perhaps it was begun by Giorgione.) + + Venice, Seminario, Apollo and Daphne; Giovanelli, Gypsy and Soldier; + S. Rocco, Christ bearing Cross. + + Vicenza, Casa Loschi, Christ bearing Cross. (Now in the Gardner + Collection, Boston.) + + Vienna, Evander showing Æneas the Site of Rome. (Often called the + Three Philosophers.) + +In an article[50] published since the appearance of his book, Berenson +has added to the above list several pictures which he considers to be +copies of Giorgiones. They are: + + Bergamo, Orpheus and Eurydice. The copy made by Cariani. + + Buda-Pesth, Two men walking. Fragment. (This is what Morelli calls the + Birth of Paris.) + + Milan, Portrait of a lady, belonging to Signor Crespi. + + St. Petersburg, Judith. + + London, Portrait of a man formerly belonging to Mr. Doetsch; now owned + by Colonel Kemp. + + + + + II. THE TRUE GIORGIONE + + +A superficial study of the lists which have been given suffices to show +that the various critics have very different standards by which to judge +Giorgione and his works. I much doubt whether entire order can be +brought out of the chaos that now rules, but a sounder basis for future +study can be derived from a combination of the best points of the work +of these very differently endowed critics than any one of them by +himself offers. + +So far as Crowe and Cavalcaselle go, they are, I believe, entirely +right. Among the twelve pictures which they unhesitatingly ascribe to +Giorgione, only three have been questioned by any one. These three are, +the Judgment of Solomon, at Kingston Lacy, the Epiphany, in the National +Gallery, and the Beaumont Shepherd’s Offering. The only possible +explanation of the fact that Morelli does not mention the picture at +Kingston Lacy is that he did not see it.[51] It is one of those works +that in every touch show the author. Even if we did not have Ridolfi’s +evidence for the existence of such a work, it is difficult to understand +how hesitation could arise in the mind of any one undisturbed by +theories as to the author of the picture. The figure of the executioner +is, as Ridolfi says, unfinished. So, too, is practically the whole +picture (Plate LXII). + +What strikes one at first sight is the similarity to Bellini’s work at +the same time that one realises a development of dramatic power greater +than he ever attained. The fine restraint of composition is his, the +serious and painstaking technique is his, but the dramatic energy +displayed in the action of the several figures is a step beyond anything +which Bellini ever accomplished. And the few undoubted works show that +Giorgione was great enough to compose with the same grandeur, and work +with a similar perfection to Bellini, and yet give more dramatic +intensity to his figures. But if any one is blind to the spirit that +permeates this wonderful bit of poetry, let him study the details. The +head of the youth standing upright on Solomon’s right hand is most +closely allied to that of the seated figure in the Three Philosophers. +The old man on the left of Solomon is in his turn very similar to the +oldest of the Three Philosophers. Compare the hand of the second figure +from the right with the left hand of the last-mentioned Philosopher: it +is the same. + +The tight drawn hair of the women is the same as that of the +Castelfranco Madonna and the Gypsy in the Giovanelli Palace picture. The +strong, broad, full-toed, carefully drawn feet are what we see in the +Three Philosophers, and the St. Francis of the Castelfranco picture. The +full-lipped, small, quietly closed but expressive mouths of the figures +are such as distinguish Giorgione’s other unquestioned works and show a +master’s touch. The draperies massed in grand, simple style, broken only +by folds that truly show the quality of the stuff or its +arrangement—that are not merely put in out of pure fancy—are like those +that characterise the Castelfranco Madonna and the Three Philosophers. +There is no refuting the judgment passed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle. This +is a true Giorgione and in certain ways the finest of them all. + +I have refrained from comparing it with the Dresden Venus for the reason +that this discovery of Morelli’s has been, though I believe on +insufficient grounds, disputed, and some critics question whether the +Venus is not a work of Titian. The evidence with which Morelli +maintained the Giorgionesque origin of the work is very convincing, but +there is a quality of the work upon which he did not lay sufficient +stress. I refer to the lack of sensuousness in the figure. It is the +lack of this mundane quality, the abstractness of the figure, that +renders it ideal, which allies this work with the finest Greek +sculpture, with figures of the Periclean epoch. The nude female figure +is thought of not from a sexual standpoint, but from that of pure beauty +of form. To represent such feeling was unlike Titian even in the most +earnestly ideal of his youthful days. His work in almost every case has +a glow of passion; Giorgione’s, on the contrary, suggests loveliness +that deserves the deepest admiration, but does not suggest actual human +life and action. The two ideals are the poles asunder. Titian’s is that +of the man, Giorgione’s that of the woman. As Coleridge said, “Man loves +the woman, but woman loves the love of the man,” and when one looks at +Titian’s Venuses or his other female figures, one is inevitably more +vigorously self-conscious and one’s attention is more indissolubly bound +to the body than when one’s eyes rest on the statuesque beauties of the +Castelfranco painter’s imaginings. + +[Illustration: PLATE LXIV.] + +The method by which these effects are depicted is unmistakable and +clear. In Titian’s figures of nude women the glance of the eye is often +distinctly and sharply focussed in the eye of the beholder, and the +action of the figure is motived by the presence of the beholder. The +painted image is the corollary of the being that looks upon her. It is +not so in Giorgione’s work. His Venus is self-contained, self-centred +and thoughtless of the outer world. The eyes (cf. the Giovanelli +picture) do not strongly draw yours to themselves, and the action does +not imply a realisation of the presence of any interested gazer. For +exactly these reasons, plain simple reasons, but of deepest import, the +Venus of Praxiteles is of inestimably greater worth than that later +impersonation of female vigour and physical delight, the Venus de’ +Medici. And in similar manner Giorgione proves himself a man and an +artist who attained to the adequate presentation of an ideal of beauty +of the female figure far more elevated and uplifting than that held by +his more famous contemporary Titian. The Venus may, as Morelli said, be +safely considered as a true Giorgione. + +The case is not so clear, though I believe it is not less +unquestionable, when we consider the Epiphany[52] of the National +Gallery (Plate LXIII). The criticism passed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle on +this picture and the Shepherd’s Offering in the Beaumont Collection is, +so far as it goes, sound. They say of these pictures “that the style +coincides with that which historians attribute to Giorgione; that most +of the characteristics which predominate recur in canvases registered by +the oldest authorities as those of Barbarelli; and that the landscapes +in every case resemble each other and recall the country of +Castelfranco.” There is much more proof, however, that can be adduced to +show that only Giorgione could have painted these works. But first the +attribution of them both to Catena[53] must be shown to be groundless. + +A word, however, in regard to logical reasoning about pictures, the lack +of which constitutes a great weakness in Morelli and some of his +followers, may perhaps be deemed not inappropriate here. Circumstantial +evidence is at best only partially conclusive. Morelli did some +brilliant work by its means in correcting the names under which many +pictures had masqueraded. Such work must, it is self-evident, be founded +on the signed works of the masters or on works whose authorship is +proved by literary evidence of the strongest character. But he and his +followers seem to forget that others may refuse adherence to the belief +in one or more of these attributions and yet not be utterly foolish. +Many minds are convinced by evidence which to other equally capable and +well-trained intelligences does not carry the force of conviction, or +may even seem to be based on a misapprehension of fundamental facts. +Grant, however, that a given attribution of an unsigned work seems +reasonable, still there are in most such cases parts of it that are to a +certain extent dissimilar to the certified works of the master to whom +it is attributed—otherwise it would never have been falsely named. + +Were this not true, how had doubt ever arisen in men’s minds as to who +wrote the Rhesus, or when the Apollo Belvedere was made? Suppose now +that in studying a picture and attributing it to an artist one finds a +second or a third or a fourth picture that seems to be by the same +painter. One sees that each has certain points in common with the signed +works and others common only to the unsigned work which was the first of +our new attributions. To deduce from the similarity which any two of the +unsigned works bear to each other in their _differences_ from the signed +works of the author to whom it is desired to attribute them, that they +must be by this author, is an absolutely illogical and unreasonable +method of argument. One can ‘prove’ anything in this way, which could +without difficulty enable one to show that the Two Loves of the Borghese +Gallery was painted by Perugino. All that is needed is a sufficiently +large list of works each differing slightly from Perugino’s true +masterpieces. It is but another form of the old game of turning one word +into another by adding and subtracting syllables. Thus one turns _drama_ +into _odious_: drama, melodrama, melodious, odious. + +Unfortunately Morelli did not realise the weakness of this system. Had +he done so, he would never have attributed to Catena the Epiphany of the +National Gallery, and his followers would not consider the same artist +as the painter of the Benson Holy Family and the Beaumont Shepherd’s +Offering.[54] I do not mean to imply that he would have considered +Giorgione as their author, but, it is only by strained and extravagant +reasoning that they can be claimed for Catena. They bear no resemblance +in either composition, colour or idea to any of the unquestioned works +by this second-rate pupil of Bellini, the imitator, _par excellence_, of +the work of his greater contemporaries. + +So far as a careful analysis enables one to make out from the context of +the whole passage in which Morelli speaks of these works,[55] he seems +to have convinced himself that Catena was the painter of the Epiphany +because of the similarities that exist between it and the Knight adoring +the Infant Christ and the St. Jerome in his Study in the same Gallery. +The first thing to notice is that the likeness which the Epiphany bears +to the St. Jerome is almost entirely imaginary. The chief difference +between the two works is that the Epiphany is not only painted in a very +different manner technically, but it is much less laboured. It shows +vastly greater facility of draughtsmanship; the execution is very much +more easy; the colour is fuller and purer; the chiaroscuro is more +varied, and, finally, it is much more imaginatively conceived. It gives +one, in fact, the impression of being by a master, whereas the St. +Jerome seems nothing more either in imagination or in technique than the +work of a careful, serious, arid-minded student. + +The St. Jerome in fact may well be by Catena, for these are the +qualities with which we know he was endowed. The similarity between the +Epiphany and the Knight adoring the Infant Christ is greater, but still +not very great.[56] But here too we must remember that the attribution +of the Knight to Catena is based not so much even on good circumstantial +evidence as on the fairly unanimous belief among those capable of +judging what certain phases of Catena’s changing style probably +resembled. But the points wherein the Epiphany surpassed the St. Jerome +are just those in which it shows greater mastery than is exhibited in +the Knight. The same stiffness and awkwardness of drawing mark the +Knight as by an artist of much less capacity than him of the Epiphany. + +So too does the clumsy, empty composition. The small-featured faces, the +lack of appearance of real substance in the bodies, the dull and +uninteresting chiaroscuro, the laboured technique are characteristic of +Catena, but not one of them shows in the Epiphany. Catena may well have +painted the beast like a hobby horse which the Knight’s page holds, but +it was an abler hand than his which drew the horses from which the Magi +have dismounted. The crinkly, crushed draperies in the Knight are +similar to Catena’s work, but there is nothing like them in the +Epiphany, where the glowing coloured garments are cast in simpler and +grander and at the same time more natural lines. Can any one really +imagine that the same man painted the dull, hard, conventional head of +St. Joseph in the Knight and the much more thoughtful and original face +of the same figure in the Epiphany? or how can any one believe that the +same artist designed heads of such different shape, eyes and noses and +mouths so unlike in the one and the other work; hands in the Knight so +like turtles’ feet, and so vigorous and human in the Epiphany? It is +surely improbable, and Crowe and Cavalcaselle were right when they +recognised a great difference between the two works and saw in the +smaller, richer one the hand of Giorgione. The reasoner who is calm and +unpolemically minded must agree with them. + +The next picture for us to consider is the Beaumont Shepherd’s Offering +which Crowe and Cavalcaselle give to Giorgione, but which is by Berenson +and others considered a Catena.[57] If the Epiphany were a Catena, then +the Shepherd’s Offering would be also, for not only the treatment and +colour as a whole, but the details, more particularly the group of the +Holy Family, is distinctly alike in both. The same reasons that show +that it is impossible that Catena ever painted the Epiphany apply with +even greater force to the Shepherd’s Offering. Both pictures are utterly +unlike Catena’s work in all essential points, all those, that is to say, +which are the expression of character. Certain Giorgionesque qualities +show more strongly in the Shepherd’s Offering than in the smaller work. +I will not analyse the details of form, substantiality of masses and +richness of colour, for every unprejudiced eye will see that they are +the same in each of these two works as they are in the unquestioned +works by Giorgione. But there is a quality more difficult to analyse and +to express in fixed terms, that stamps the Shepherd’s Offering not only +as a work by Giorgione, but as a very characteristic expression of his +genius. I refer to the impression given by the quietness of the scene, +by the slight vagueness of it all, and to the colour and chiaroscuro +that remind one of an evening landscape (Plate LXIV). All these points +taken together make the scene seem mysterious and dreamlike. + +[Illustration: PLATE LXV.] + +Now, clearly enough, this romantic quality occurs to a greater or less +extent in all the unquestioned Giorgiones. It is the deep religious +ardour of Bellini turned to a broader field. It is the sharp focussed +passion of Titian transmuted into an abiding love for all things +beautiful. In the Giovanelli Landscape (Plate LXV) you see it in the +strange combination of soldier and nude woman under the lightning-riven +skies and the trees heavy and white with the storm. In the Three +Philosophers you see it in the contrast of the three men of different +ages and the quiet forest where they sit with the city in the distance +that seems to be asleep (Plate LXVI). In the Virgin of Castelfranco you +see it in the throne placed in the open meadows peopled by visionlike +figures, in the deeply impressive silence and contrast of the monk and +warrior, and in the still blue sea lapping the templed shores beyond. +You see it in the Venus,—not any one woman so much as the presentation +of everlasting feminine beauty—sleeping under the open sky across which +roll great summer clouds rising from the distant sea. It is present +almost invariably in his work and forms the chief richness of the +Beaumont picture, in which the strangely silent group under the trees, +the empty shepherd’s hut beyond and the deep distance of rolling, +castelled hills and meadows, golden in the light of the low sun, is like +a vision that one sees in those rare moments when one’s eyes pierce the +husk of this world and we seem for one treasured instant to have passed +the borders and be wandering in El Dorado. + +In none of Catena’s authentic works does he attain to such a height of +imaginative presentation of daily phenomena. He could appreciate it, as +is shown by his attempt in the Knight to paint in the manner of +Giorgione, but that picture alone would be sufficient to show his +incapacity to attain the goal at which he aimed. Nor is this feeling +which we derive from Giorgione’s works imaginary and based on +preconceived ideas. It is distinctly due to certain indubitable facts. +No one questions the mystery and inexpressible beauty of the light of +early dawn or evening, and it is this rather than the full, hard, +mid-day glare that is the light of all Giorgione’s pictures. Nor is +there doubt of the impressiveness of gloom, be it of forest or of storm, +and such mystery as this was dear to the hill-born artist. Nor, further, +can one hesitate to admit the visionary, mirage-like appearance of +vigorous action that takes place in silence and of which the anatomical +details are suppressed. Such is the action of Giorgione’s figures. They +are plainly deeply interested in the scene of which they form part, but +their faces (even in the Judgment of Solomon at Kingston Lacy) show +their interest rather by the eyes than by the lips. They look, but do +not speak. Like Greek Gods they act, but with terrible great silence. + +And so, too, though the bodies of his figures are full of life and +action, yet they rarely show the tense and emphasised muscles +appropriate to such action, but appear rather, having acted, to be now +at rest. A similar peculiarity is to be observed in the draperies which, +just as I have tried to show in regard to the figure of the Venus, are +of the same nature as the best Greek work. They are completely motived, +that is, by the bodies beneath them. They are a positive component part +of the figure, not merely an accidental addition, and they rest and move +with it. Thus, as the bodies seem to be resting after motion, so the +draperies seem to be also. They show none of the little, trifling, +momentary folds that express actual motion, but merely those larger, +more essential lines and masses that are truly expressive of the +vitality and movement of the figures, whose beauty they enhance, so far +as such life and activity can be expressed by woven stuffs. + +Let us turn now to Catena, his Sta. Caterina, or his Virgin Enthroned, +in Venice, and we see draperies that are in large measure as merely +studio studies of cloth as any to which Albert Dürer ever attached hands +and feet and a head and called it a human being. The folds do not carry +out the action of the figure, but crinkle and ripple and break in +meaningless profusion from shoulder to ankle. Giorgione was a richly +imaginative, deeply thoughtful genius, and such a personality as this is +indelibly stamped in the Epiphany, the Shepherd’s Offering, and the +Benson Holy Family. Catena was a fashionable plagiarist and moderately +successful imitator of the manner of his master Bellini and of his great +contemporaries; such a character as his is completely foreign to the +spirit of these three pictures. + +The Holy Family,[58] one of the many treasures of Mr. Benson’s +collection, is also given by Berenson, and by others, to Catena. The +Virgin and Joseph are, as one sees at first sight, the same figures as +in the two preceding works. I will not unfold the argument again. The +picture is to be attributed to Giorgione for the same reasons that show +the two other pictures to be his. One proof may be added to those +adduced before, and this is the pebbly surface of the ground. The same +treatment is to be seen in the Judgment of Solomon, and the Trial of +Moses, in the Uffizi, in the Three Philosophers, in the Giovanelli +Landscape; and in this last picture the painting of the brick work below +the column is the same as that of the building beside which the Holy +Family are seated in Mr. Benson’s picture. Catena could as easily have +painted Bellini’s Loredano as this head of St. Joseph, as fine a head in +its grandeur of mould and simple earnestness of expression as was ever +given to this too often maligned Saint. It is a Giorgione, and a fine +one. + +The picture of Christ carrying the Cross in the Church of San Rocco in +Venice is by Morelli[59] said to be “gewiss ein ganz frühes Werk” of +Titian. Considering that he does not give a single proof of this +assertion, we may be forgiven if we fail to see the _Gewissheit_ of the +attribution. It is true that Vasari was not sure whether Giorgione or +Titian was the author, but tradition, as can be traced by guide books, +certainly leads us to consider the former as the author. The condition +of the picture is such that it gives one no help in solving the problem, +but so far as the drawing of details goes we meet no contradiction of +the traditional authorship. The shape of the head of the Christ and the +drawing of the eyes and brow are met with in the certain works. In +believing this ruined picture to be by our master, I am following the +opinion held by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, and in more recent days by +Berenson. + +The difficulties that are met in trying to discover a decisive proof of +the origin of the Knight of Malta are similar to those which confuse the +argument about the ‘Christ’ of San Rocco. The picture has been so +maltreated that there is little left to study but the shadow of the +original. A magnificent original it must have been, one of those rare +works, commoner in Venice than elsewhere, that truly make the corporal +substance conform to the nature of the hidden soul, so that one thinks +not so much of the person shown to us as of his manner of thought and +life. There is much about the portrait that makes its attribution to any +one but Giorgione next to impossible, and nothing, I believe, that +throws any doubt in the way of our considering him the author. He was +capable of such a portrait, and in its earlier days it was +unquestionably worthy of him. This is, of course, the usual opinion, +though Crowe and Cavalcaselle felt that the repainting had so altered +the work as to destroy its character. + +The Head of Christ bearing the Cross, formerly in Vicenza, and now, +fortunately for our country, in Boston, is another of the works the +authorship of which cannot be absolutely proved, but of which the +character is so marked that there is little or no diversity of opinion +about it.[60] It is one of the pictures that Crowe and Cavalcaselle +thought worthy of Giorgione, and which since their day Morelli and +others have not hesitated to regard as his. Still strongly tinged with +the influence of Bellini, it contains the promise of a freer, broader +treatment of religious subjects than even Bellini had attained, and +shows us unquestionably the young Giorgione. The hand and eye of Bellini +guide him as he works, but his own genius cannot be utterly suppressed, +and he adds to his master’s style something that marks the picture, when +it leaves his easel, as the true expression of a great genius and not as +that of a merely facile and unoriginal pupil (Plate LXVII). + +Closely connected with the Madonna of Castelfranco is the study for the +figure of San Liberale in the National Gallery. It is true that such +studies by the fifteenth-century Italian masters are extremely uncommon, +but the differences between this study and the large picture are such as +we can hardly imagine being introduced by a copyist, and the painting, +considered solely from the technical point of view, is so masterly that +we are, I believe, justified in considering the figure as the product of +Giorgione’s brush. + +Of the six pictures (Pitti, Concert, and Nymph with Satyr; Louvre, Fête +Champêtre, and Madonna and Saints; Hampton Court, Shepherd; Madrid, +Madonna with Sta. Brigida) which, though traditionally ascribed to +Giorgione, Crowe and Cavalcaselle refused to consider as his, the +Madonna and Sta. Brigida and the Madonna and Saints in the Louvre are +now less often thought of in connection with his name.[61] + +[Illustration: PLATE LXVI.] + +Of the Madonna and Saints in the Louvre it is interesting to note that +even a century ago there were those who judged the work at its true +value. It is of this work, I believe, that J. B. P. Lebrun[62] says: (p. +71) “Attribué au Giorgion. Un Concert de figures vues à mi-crops et de +grandeur naturelle, très-mauvais ouvrage dans le genre de cette école, +d’environ 4 pieds et demi de hauteur, sur 6 de largeur, sur toile. Je +tairai ce qu’en dit Lalande. Vient de Milan, bibliothèque Ambrosienne.” + +Concerning the four other pictures there is considerable diversity of +opinion. The Head of a Boy at Hampton Court is thought by Morelli to be +an original Giorgione, but as the light was bad when he saw the work, he +is not sure. Berenson, however, does not doubt the genuineness of the +picture. Considering the fact that the head is a copy of the Vienna +David, we may very seriously question whether it is by Giorgione. One +can scarcely suppose that he would have repeated his pictures and made +the head of his David answer for a Shepherd. Morelli was right in +recognising the Giorgionesque spirit of the work, but it is only a copy +of the head of the original David, with certain details altered. + +The Nymph and Satyr[63] in the Pitti, which used to be called a +Giorgione and which Crowe and Cavalcaselle thought to be by some +imitator of him and of Titian, bears now, I believe, the name of Dosso +Dossi. Morelli considered it a youthful work of Giorgione, though it +certainly shows few signs of youth, and the Giorgionesque details which +he enumerates are exactly those which an imitator would easily acquire. +The idea and the energetic freedom of composition are more like the work +of men who came after Giorgione, and the colouring is unlike his. We +have no reason to believe that he ever painted subjects embodying just +such trivially sensual and commonplace ideas, and as there is no marked +and characteristic likeness in the figures to any of his known works, it +is safer to consider it the product of a would-be imitator, such as we +know Dosso Dossi to have been. + +To decide the question of the Concert in the Pitti is by no means easy. +Crowe and Cavalcaselle felt sure it could not be by Giorgione, or else +that “he did not execute what we are fond of attributing to him,” for it +seemed to them more advanced and to surpass his true works. Morelli, +too, did not regard Giorgione as the author, but the youthful +Titian,[64] and to this Berenson agrees. The interrelation of the +complex sensations expressed in the deeply moved but quiet faces is +certainly more like the work of the painter of the Two Loves than that +of him of the Three Philosophers. The likeness, too, of the middle +figure in the Concert to the Man with the Glove in the Louvre—a likeness +found not only in the expression of the two heads, but also in the +wonderfully wrought modelling of them—is most noticeable. How the same +artist can have accomplished so dull and stupid a face as the one to the +left is a question only to be answered by the vandals who have repainted +and thereby ruined this very splendid work. It certainly does remind one +of Giorgione, but so does the Two Loves. Titian we know well was, in his +early days, much influenced by his fellow-worker, but we know also that +he became the more accomplished artist of the two and attained a power +of technique and of representation of facial expression beyond that of +his too early dead contemporary. As just such an artist is shown us in +the Concert, one can but agree with Morelli in regarding it as the work +of Titian—as one of his finest, for he rarely reached such mastery of +subtle expression as shown in the central figure. + +I come now to the discussion of a picture so well known that I feel +scarcely justified in doing more than simply express my opinion of it, +but the picture is so important that I must be excused for arguing about +it in close detail. It is the Fête Champêtre in the Louvre; a picture +which almost every one unhesitatingly attributes to Giorgione, but which +I cannot believe to be by him and think can have been painted only some +years after his death. As in regard to other true or false Giorgiones, +the opinion held by Crowe and Cavalcaselle is worthy of more attention +than later writers have seen fit to give it. What the former say about +the picture is this: + +“We cannot say that Giorgione would not have painted such a scene; but, +as far as we know, he would have treated it with more nobleness of +sentiment, without defects of form or neglect of nature’s finenesses, +without the pasty surface and sombre glow of tone which here is all +pervading: he would have given more brightness and variety to his +landscape.” + +They were surely not far wrong when they suggested some imitator of +Sebastiano del Piombo as the painter. There is certainly a Giorgionesque +quality in the scene, but that only means that the painter puts before +our eyes the varied and mingled charms of green fields enlivened with +the faint murmur of shepherds tending their distant flocks, of woods and +rivers, and of strong men and lovely women making music beside a +fountain overhung by trees. It used to be the fashion[65] to call every +portrait of a dark-eyed man with long abundant locks by Giorgione’s +name, and those who believed in such things also thought that he was the +only painter of Fêtes Champêtres. + +We may freely concede that Giorgione did do much to introduce and +skilfully display a class of subjects that had been little cared for +until this day. But he was not the only artist to feel the charm of such +scenes. Sedate Bellini himself showed in such a picture as the Bacchanal +in Alnwick Castle that he too felt them, and rapidly they became more +and more common. But in the earlier years of this development such +scenes were generally given on a small scale or else were intended to +illustrate, even though in many cases the clue is lost to us, some more +distinct and concisely expressable idea than mere Arcadian life among +the trees. It is not alone the emptiness of thought that forces us to +decide upon some later author than Giorgione for this work. Forms of +details, manner of design and method of painting, all are different from +his certain works. + +The first thing that strikes the attention is that the soft, dull +drawing of the figures, and the clumsy, baggy modelling of the women, is +unlike anything found in any of the undoubted Giorgiones.[66] Compare +the delicate shape and clear drawing of the figures in the Uffizi +panels, or the Venus or the Gypsy, with these heavy, ill-proportioned, +clumsily posed figures, and then say if you think Giorgione could have +sunk so low. Or, if you will seek proof in fingers and toes, hands and +feet, where in Giorgione’s work are such a shapeless leathery ear, so +thick-lipped a mouth, so short-toed and thick a foot, or such spidery +hands to be found? Nowhere. Look at the landscape. The trees are much +more massy and less flat and feathery, their surface is more broken by +flickering spots of light, they show, in fact, a more advanced stage in +the rendering of the appearance of Nature, than is shown in Giorgione’s +work. + +It is instructive to notice, too, the way that the grass is painted in +the foreground, the thick mat of it, and the long bright blades and +tufts. Giorgione never reached such realism as that, as you can see by +the primitive way in which he seeks to render the effect in the picture +of the Gypsy. Consider further the treatment of the sunlight as it +floats over the hillsides and glows among the trees. In the Castelfranco +Madonna, in the Three Philosophers, in the Gypsy, in the Beaumont +Shepherd’s Offering, large, smooth, unbroken surfaces of light and +shade, seeming almost more like some woven stuff than rough earth, are +contrasted, but here all is broken, enriched perhaps, but less simple +and less telling. + +In and out by the river and over the hill, Nature’s wrinkles are +embossed by the soft light, and nowhere is there restful certainty of +sun or shadow. In among the trees behind the shepherd, the hot, misty +light that one sees only in the forest is radiant with summer colour and +seems to murmur with the voice of the woods. Such effects were unknown +to Giorgione, but they were not unknown to Titian, for he was the first +great landscapist, and in the Vierge au Lapin and the other Virgin +seated under the trees, which used to hang opposite in the Long Gallery +of the Louvre, we see exactly these technical peculiarities and these +effects of nature done with the sure stroke of the master. Not only has +the author of the Fête Champêtre followed Titian in these ways, but his +thick pasty colour is taken from him. Not a stroke of this picture +displays original talent, there is not one that resembles Giorgione, not +one that does not betray the skilful imitator of ideas and manner of +other well-known men, chiefly of Titian. + +But to make assurance doubly sure, something remains to be pointed out +that even if all the rest could be accommodated to what we know of +Giorgione, would render it incredible that he should be the author. +Morelli and others have noted the curious similarity between the two +musicians and certain figures in one of Titian’s frescoes in Padua. One +cannot say that Titian would not have taken hints from Giorgione, but he +was scarcely the man to need any one’s suggestions, especially if it was +in the shape of such commonplace figures as these. There are those, +however, who think he did. But now let me add that the two women bear +the most striking and unquestionable likeness to the two women in +Tintoretto’s (?) Rescue in Dresden, though they have lost the purity of +Tintoretto’s figures. Surely no one will maintain that this at best only +fanciful and pretty, but in no way striking, Fête Champêtre was the +source of inspiration to the two greatest Venetian painters in their +days of prime and finished power? It is impossible. The idea must be +given up, and though there is no denying the charm of the musicians +under the trees, let us cast the scales from our eyes and recognise its +complete dissimilarity to the work of the Master of Castelfranco, and +that it is merely a perfectly charming _pasticcio_. + +I have now discussed the pictures spoken of by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, +and there are left for us to consider those to which Morelli first drew +marked attention. Such are the Madonna with Sts. Antony and Roch in +Madrid, Daphne and Apollo in Venice, Three Ages of Man in the Uffizi, +Birth of Paris and Portrait of a Man in Buda-Pesth, Portrait of a Woman +in the Borghese Gallery, Portrait of a Youth in Berlin, Allegory in +Dresden, and Judith in St. Petersburg. I have already spoken of the +Venus, Nymph and Satyr, and the Shepherd at Hampton Court. + +The Madonna in Madrid has generally been called by the name of +Pordenone, while Crowe and Cavalcaselle thought it by Francesco Vecelli. +It is certainly not a Giorgione, but a mere _pasticcio_ like the Fête +Champêtre. We cannot be blamed for asking some more decisive evidence of +its Giorgionesque origin than Morelli gives before we agree with him. He +satisfies himself with saying[67] “Doch ich muss gestehen, dass es für +mich keine geringe Freude war, bei meinem Besuche von Madrid dieses +Wunderwerk venetianischer Malerkunst sogleich als Schöpfung unsers +Giorgione erkannt zu haben.” + +This, on the surface, is too rapid and absolute a statement to be +admitted without question, and as there are excellent reasons why +Giorgione could not have painted the work, we may confidently strike it +from the list. The composition in the main is borrowed from the picture +at Castelfranco. Giorgione was hardly the man to repeat his own works. +The heavy, thick, coarse painting is absolutely different from +Giorgione’s work. The clumsy draperies show none of his fine feeling. +The thick-set figures of the Saints do not exhibit his elegance and +refinement of form. The infant, more like a Hercules than a Christ, is +quite unlike his poetic and dreamy-looking children. The manner in which +the foot of St. Roch is raised is awkward and unmeaning, while the fat +hands, thick ears and coarse features bear no resemblance to Giorgione’s +work. The work is not only crude, it is unintelligent. The wall behind +the Virgin cannot be explained, the chiaroscuro is harsh, the attitude +of St. Anthony, turning as he does from the main group, is senseless, +and the flowers are scattered about in a childish way. It is based on +Giorgione’s work, but must have been painted by an inferior artist many +years after his death. + +The Daphne and Apollo in Venice has been injured by repainting and by +having lost the left-hand end, but one can easily see that it will take +much more than a mere assertion by Morelli[68] to convince anyone that +Giorgione painted it. Crowe and Cavalcaselle think the painter was +probably Andrea Schiavoni. If it was not Schiavoni, it was someone of an +almost precisely similar nature and talent. The generally loose drawing +and painting remind one of him. The bad drawing and perspective, the +proportions and shapes of the figures (note the chunky Apollo drawing +his bow and the head of the woman in the middle distance), the clawlike +hands and clumsy feet, and the stupid confusion of scale in which the +figures are drawn, all show without any possibility of question, that +neither Giorgione nor any other artist of the first rank painted the +picture. + +[Illustration: PLATE LXVII.] + +There are in Padua two other cassone pictures representing the fables of +Myrrha and of Erysichthon as told by Ovid in the “Metamorphoses” (VIII +fab. 7 and X fab. 9). They are Giorgionesque in feeling, but are plainly +derived from the woodcuts in the 1497 Venice edition of Ovid (Cf. Justi, +_Giorgione_ p. 191 f). It is possible that these are two of the pictures +referred to by Ridolfi (see above, No. 19). + +Of the Three Ages it is perhaps sufficient to say that Morelli’s +attribution has not found general acceptance. + +The Allegory in Dresden in times gone by has been and by some still is +considered, as Morelli thought, a copy of a work by Giorgione. There is, +I believe, no real evidence in favour of this theory, which seems to me +to depend solely on personal feeling. + +The Judith in St. Petersburg, where it goes by the name of Moretto, +presents a more difficult problem. Morelli, though he seems to have had +no doubt that Giorgione was the painter, was not sure whether the +picture was a copy or not. That it is a copy is Berenson’s opinion.[69] +The lack of modelling and the bad drawing of parts are the reasons why +Berenson and others think it a copy, and Berenson finds a trace of +copyist’s work in the fact that the head is better done than the rest of +the figure. Personally, I do not recognise this superiority of the head, +and considering the numerous faults which he points out, I do not +understand his last sentence: “En somme, la _Judith_ de l’Ermitage me +parait une bonne copie, mais après tout, ce n’est qu’une copie.” If one +believes these numerous faults to be due to the copyist, I should say +that they proved it to be a pretty poor copy. Study of the work itself +will, however, convince anyone that it is not a copy, but the original +picture, and the artist can be no other than Giorgione. The panel on +which it was painted was originally broader on the right side.[70] The +uncertain drawing is what one would expect to find in an early work. The +drapery is not so simple as usual in its folds, and at first sight the +way it is drawn aside, leaving one leg bare, seems affected. But when +one thinks of the bleeding head on the ground, this action is seen to be +natural and the contrast of nude and draped parts is of the same +unexpected and original character as one sees in the woman of the +Giovanelli picture. + +The fragment in Buda-Pesth which Morelli thought was part of the picture +representing the Birth of Paris is, as Berenson points out in the +article already referred to, only a copy, and a poor one at that. But +even poor copies of lost Giorgiones are works to be carefully cherished. + +Morelli also thought he knew of three portraits by Giorgione. Of these +three (the Woman in the Borghese, the Man in the Buda-Pesth Gallery, and +the Youth in Berlin), the first two may be seriously questioned. To my +eye the Borghese portrait is by no means so strikingly Giorgionesque as +Morelli considered it. While it is true that a brow here and a mouth +there can be found scattered among the figures in the true Giorgiones +that resemble the features of this woman, the type of face shows little +likeness to Giorgione’s work. Nor does the muddy colour indicate the +palette of an artist of more than mediocre ability. Who will look at +Giorgione’s masterpieces and then say he thinks the same artist produced +two such shapeless hands holding such a formless swab of cloth? Have we +any reason to think Giorgione had so poor an understanding of +perspective as to be unable to draw correctly the line of the parting of +the hair? Such sloping shoulders were never natural and the fashion of +drawing them so is not characteristic of Giorgione’s work. Could not +Giorgione paint better drapery, or would he ever have been satisfied +with such a shoelace-like ribbon round the waist? Finally, were such +gauze caps known in Giorgione’s day? It is the purest fancy that +discovers a shadow of greatness in this dull work. Drawing, colour, +design, all proclaim it the product of a commonplace artist. The work is +unlike Giorgione’s in every particular except the shape of the brow. + +Morelli’s judgment about the portrait in Buda-Pesth is a perfectly sound +one. It occurs only in the English translation and not in the original +German.[71] “The picture,” he says, “has suffered much, and the master +is not to be recognised in the technical qualities of the painting, but +the whole feeling ... and the conception seem to point to Giorgione. The +impression which it made upon me ten years ago was that of a thoroughly +Giorgionesque work, but one executed by a later hand rather than by the +master himself. Competent critics who have examined the picture in the +meantime insist, however, that it is a true original by Giorgione. I +must leave the final decision of the point to others.” Unfortunately it +is next to impossible to arrive at final decisions in such matters. For +one, I believe that Morelli’s idea, that the work was executed by a +follower of Giorgione, is borne out by its main characteristics, +particularly by the self-conscious pose of the head, and by the gesture +of the hand—both much like what is found in portraits by the men of the +generation after Giorgione. + +Then, too, the cold ashen colour is very unlike Giorgione’s palette, but +I would not lay great weight on this fact as the picture has been much +repainted. The picture is of further interest because it shows the +fallacy of one of Morelli’s most firm statements. In the +Introduction[72] to his chapters on the Borghese Gallery he says: “Ich +erlaube mir bei dieser Gelegenheit sogar zu bemerken, dass die den +_grossen Meistern_ eigenthümliche _Grundform_ der Hand und des Ohres +nicht nur auf ihren Bildern, sondern selbst auf den von ihnen nach dem +Leben gemalten Porträts sich vorfindet.” With these words in one’s mind +one looks at the Buda-Pesth portrait and finds neither hand, ear, eye, +nose or mouth exhibiting the _Grundform_ shown in the unquestioned +pictures. Morelli was carried away by his theories in this point, for +while every one will readily admit that many cases, especially among the +works of the primitive and early masters, can be found to fit his rule, +yet the numberless exceptions to this rule, particularly among the fully +developed masters, make it quite plain that, at best, its application +requires to be strictly limited.[73] + +The Portrait of a Youth at Berlin is the last of the Morellian +Giorgiones to be studied. As was too often the case, Morelli speaks +off-hand of this work as “ein glänzendes Porträt des Giorgione,” as +though it was so manifestly by him that he was absolved from the labour +of adducing proof; but the matter is not so simple. It is surely enough +Giorgionesque, but do the details bear out the general impression so +strongly as to make the attribution beyond all reasonable doubt? Not one +of the master’s certain works shows a head like this. It is sharper and +harder than anything of his except the Uffizi panels, but between these, +sharp and hard as they seem to have been, and the Berlin portrait, there +is an important and essential difference. The figures on the panels are +not only hard, they are stiff; that is, they show one of the chief +characteristics of youthful work.[74] If now the portrait be by +Giorgione, it is self-evidently an early work. That is, there are among +his undoubted works some that show vastly greater ease than this. But +this portrait does not show any stiffness. + +The attitude is easy, and the painting, particularly of the drapery, is +distinctly free, one might even say sketchy. The work shows, perhaps, +not so much the characteristics of a young artist of great power as +those of one who has attained some facility but not the complete and +all-round ease of the greatest masters. Then what do the letters V. V. +mean, painted on the shelf behind which the figure stands? Is it not +possible they are the initial letters of the artist’s name? Can they +stand for an as yet unknown imitator, another _Vincentius Venezianus_? +As Morelli said of the Portrait in Buda-Pesth, “I must leave the final +decision of the point to others”—others better qualified than myself. +Whoever the artist, the picture is a splendid one, and may well be +regarded as showing the Giorgione point of view in portraiture, which, +however, is a very different matter from being a work by him. + +I have already had occasion to refer to an article by Berenson in the +_Gazette des Beaux-Arts_ in which he speaks of pictures he considers as +copies of lost Giorgiones. These are: + + The David in Vienna. + The Judith in St. Petersburg. + The Birth of Paris in Buda-Pesth. + Orpheus and Eurydice, a cassone at Bergamo. + Portrait of a Man, formerly in the Doetsch collection. + Portrait of a Lady, belonging to Signor Crespi at Milan. + +Of the first three I have already spoken. To maintain his thesis about +the Orpheus and Eurydice, Berenson mentions only vague sentiments such +as “Qui donc, autre que lui, a su traduire, comme nous le voyons ici, un +mythe grec dans l’esprit de la Renaissance?” We might reply that +Bellini, Titian, Tintoret, to mention merely Venetians, all showed a +rather marked ability to do this very thing, so it was not a personal +peculiarity of Giorgione. “Qui donc, autre que lui, avait le don de +fondre le paysage et les figures dans une aussi charmante harmonie?” +Again the ability to do this was possessed by many artists, and so vague +a phrase as _aussi charmante_ proves nothing whatever. Continuing, he +finds many details which betray very certainly the work of Cariani (an +undoubted imitator of Giorgione), and decides that the work is a copy by +Cariani of a lost Giorgione. But when much is admittedly unlike +Giorgione and everything suits Cariani, why not consider Cariani the +artist? Apparently because “si nous étions nous-même des artistes très +doués, nous pourrions remplacer chaque détail _carianesque_ par un +détail _giorgionesque_, emprunté aux œuvres du maître les plus +voisines.” This has no force. We might as well “remplacer chaque détail +_carianesque_ par un détail _michelangelesque_,” and what would be shown +thereby? Nothing. + +The reasons given for believing the Portrait from the Doetsch +collection[75] to be a copy of a Giorgione are quite as vague and +undefinable as those for the Orpheus and Eurydice. The consideration of +details is no more convincing than the sentiments and fanciful writing +that precede. “Si l’auteur de l’original en question n’était pas +Giorgione, ce devrait être quelque imitateur servile du maître, comme +Licinio ou Beccaruzzi. Mais ces peintres de second ordre ne pouvaient +qu’imiter et non créer, et le portrait de la collection Doetsch est bien +une création,” and yet he has just said that this portrait “est le même +type que celui du jeune homme de Buda-Pesth,”—the picture mentioned by +Morelli. Berenson’s definition of ‘création’ must differ from that +ordinarily employed; and Licinio at his best was not so uncreative as +Berenson would have us believe. He gives one, however, further surprises +in asserting that this portrait agrees in all details with the one in +Berlin! Not only the same head and brow, but “le même sentiment dans la +bouche!” + +Even were this all so, and I cannot see that it is in the least, what +would be proved? To compare one doubtful work to another of a similar +nature does not, as I have said above, prove the authorship of either. +Furthermore, though one can find strong likenesses to the Berlin head in +the true works by Giorgione, in these same works one cannot find any +likeness whatever to the Doetsch portrait. To compare this +overemphasised portrait, this person who seems half brigand and half +Shylock, to the sad, poetical-looking man at Buda-Pesth, or to the +clean, vigorous, manly youth in Berlin, is going pretty far, and the +limit is plainly over-stepped in the endeavour to attach to the picture +a value it does not possess by giving to it the name of one of the +greatest artists. + +For the painter of the Crespi Portrait of a Lady we shall do better to +look in the direction of Titian than Giorgione. The owner, Signor +Crespi, believes, according to Berenson, that Titian was the author, and +certainly the likeness which the figure bears to other women by Titian, +and the initials T. V. make it difficult to admit any other origin. +Neither ecstasies nor comparisons serve to show any likeness to +Giorgione’s work. + +Of all the portraits attributed to Giorgione the finest by far is the +one owned by the Hon. Edward Wood of Temple Newsam. Attention was first +drawn to this by Cook and his attribution has been accepted by every +one. It is a masterpiece of the greatest beauty (Plate LXVIII). + +We have now reviewed the most important criticisms that have been passed +on Giorgione’s work; and though it is only too evident that as yet there +is no really sound common standard by which to govern our judgments, we +can come very near to forming one if we accept the more sober part of +the work of these criticisms and disregard their more extravagant and +hypothetical attributions.[76] The following list, I venture to think, +embraces works differing much less among themselves in regard to style +than the lists of the critics that I have discussed. + +[Illustration: PLATE LXVIII.] + + 1. Vienna—David (copy). + + 2. Venice—Fondaco dei Tedeschi (fragment still visible, but compare + Zanetti’s engraving). + + 3. Venice—Chiesa di San Rocco, Christ carrying the Cross (much + damaged). + + 4. Venice, Giovanelli Palace, Soldier and Woman, known as The + Tempest. + + 5. Castelfranco, Madonna Enthroned. + + 6. Dresden, Venus. + + 7. Kingston Lacy, Judgment of Solomon (unfinished). + + 8. Vienna, Three Philosophers. + + 9. Buda-Pesth, Birth of Paris (fragment of a copy). + + 10. Florence, Uffizi, Judgment of Solomon. + + 11. Florence, Uffizi, Fire-test of Moses. + + 12. Florence, Uffizi, Knight of Malta. + + 13. Boston, Mass., Mrs. Gardner’s Collection (formerly Vicenza), + Head of Christ. + + 14. London, National Gallery, Study for the San Liberale of the + Castelfranco picture. + + 15. London, National Gallery, Epiphany. + + 16. London, Mr. Benson, Holy Family. + + 17. London, Lord Allandale, Shepherd’s Offering. + + 18. Temple Newsam, Hon. Mr. Wood. Portrait of a Man. + + 19. St. Petersburg, Judith. + + 20. Berlin, Portrait of a Youth (?). + +Excluding the last one as being open to doubt, nineteen pictures, two +probably copies, remain as our heritage of this most noble painter’s +work. With these nineteen in our mind, it becomes more evident than ever +why such works as the Louvre Concert, the Borghese Lady, or the Doetsch +Man are not to be thought of in connection with Giorgione’s name. + +There yet remains something more to be said of Giorgione. I think that +there are still some pictures to be added to this list. The first to +which I desire to call attention is the so-called Gypsy Madonna in +Vienna. This picture is spoken of by every one as a Titian, but the +longer I study it the more strong becomes my conviction that Giorgione +was the artist; that it is one of his early works; that it is one of the +“many pictures of the Virgin” of which Vasari speaks. The Giorgione +spirit seems to me to underlie the whole feeling just as the Giorgione +technique underlies the completed performance, that is, wherever the +repainting allows it to be seen (Plate LXIX). + +Evidently, from the lack of decision of the drawing, the coarse +modelling of the drapery, and the heavy, undetailed landscape the +picture is an early work of the master, be he Titian or Giorgione. To my +mind the likeness between this and unquestioned early Titians is a +superficial one. This picture shows none of the ease that is a +characteristic of even his early works, nor does it exhibit any of the +dramatic quality, expressed either by the actions or in the faces of the +figures, that is another most noticeable feature of his work. If, on the +other hand, one seeks for similarities to Giorgione’s work, they are +most readily found. Details and style coincide closely with his +pictures. The shape of the Virgin’s head and the manner in which the +hair is drawn over the brow are nearly identical with what one sees in +the Uffizi panels or the Castelfranco picture. The sharply marked +eyelids, the richly modelled mouth and long nose, are strongly +resemblant to the same features in the Castelfranco Madonna, the +Giovanelli Gypsy, the Uffizi panels, and the Knight of Malta. + +[Illustration: PLATE LXIX.] + +Notice, too, the large hand, the feet of the child with the strongly +developed toes which are just what one finds in Giorgione’s works. So, +also, the landscape with its plumelike trees, and the slim figure seated +on the grass is such as one finds in many of his works, but not so often +in those of Titian. Finally, and of more importance than separate +details, is the fact that the peaceful spirit of the group, the +undramatic, unTitianesque quality, is exactly what is most +characteristic of Giorgione. Titian, when he painted the Christ Child, +even in his earliest days, painted a figure more representing the infant +Hercules than the Salvator Mundi. Invariably, He leaps about in his +Mother’s arms, and though the small chubby face may be keenly +intelligent, there is hardly ever a suggestion of the imaginative powers +and prophetic instinct of the Reformer. It is here that Giorgione shows +his very exceptional genius, for he was able to depict a purely human +man child in such wise that were the figures cut from his canvases, no +one could mistake them for mere ordinary offspring. + +Giorgione used none of the affected graces or sentimentalities of +Raphael, nor did he depend upon such weirdness as Leonardo chose; as a +result, his figures are as much more satisfying to the inquiring +intellect as a living fountain is compared with the mirage of the +desert. His means are simple. There is no exaggeration of action, as in +the Titian Child, but all is essentially delicate and infantine. There +is no exaggeration of expression, but a slightly dreamy, far-away look +as of powers still unwakened, and one feels, as before no other +representations of the Child, that such as He might attain to even +Calvary. Taken in connection with the agreement of the details, this +spiritual similarity of the work to others that we know are by Giorgione +must give him pause who should think to name Titian as the author.[77] + +Another picture which, I believe, deserves more attention than has yet +been given it hangs, under the name of Giovanni Bellini, in the _Museo +Correr_ in Venice. The picture represents the dead Christ, seated on the +edge of the tomb, upheld by three angels. In the background is a +landscape, with a church on the right. It is painted on a panel about +four feet high. The Anonimo Morelli says that in the year 1530 in the +house of Gabriel Vendramin: “El Cristo morto sopra el sepolcro, con +l’Anzolo che el sostenta, fu de man de Zorzi da Castelfranco, reconzato +da Tiziano.” The picture in the Correr Museum represents this same +scene, but there are three angels instead of one. This difference +between the picture and the description need not make us hesitate to +consider the question whether Giorgione was the author of the work, if +there are other reasons to render such authorship possible. + +Any one, however, who has used early books such as the Anonimo knows how +very inaccurate the authors often were and any one who has studied +Italian painting knows that to represent the dead Christ held by only +one angel is entirely contrary to precedent and practice. The present +condition of the work is such that it is impossible to say whether it +was ever _raconzato da Tiziano_ or not. It is a mere wreck. That there +are distinct resemblances to Bellini’s work is not to be denied, but, if +I mistake not, there exist even stronger ones to that of Giorgione. A +slight stiffness in drawing, a certain archaism in drapery, is just what +one would expect to find in the work of Bellini’s pupil. In the +modelling and action of the figures, however, there are evidences of an +attempt at freedom of design such as are rare in Bellini’s work. Four +works of Bellini occur at once as criteria for judging the quality of +the one under discussion—the Pietà in the Brera, one in the Mond +collection in London, one in Rimini, and one in the Berlin Gallery.[78] +None of these show the slender, rather unmodelled hands of the Correr +picture; none presents so vivid a picture of Death. In none except the +one at Rimini are the secondary figures really supporting the +Christ,—the body does not show, as in the Correr picture, the relaxation +of death, and in the Rimini picture the angels are much more playfully +treated than in the Correr panel. The Bellini pictures are deeply +touching, but to me there seems an even nobler and more moving sentiment +in the work which I fain would attribute to Giorgione, and it is just +such a sentiment as the painter of the Vicenza Christ might have +suggested. + +The heads of the figures of the dead Christ in the works of Bellini are +without exception represented as _asleep_. In the Correr picture one +sees more than sleep in the closed eyes and drawn mouth of the Saviour. +There is death—but death, the tragedy, so combined with a yearning, +soul-compelling sadness, that the face can never be forgotten by whoso +once has seen it, and this is spiritual life. Scarcely any other artist +ever equalled Giorgione, and none certainly ever surpassed him, in the +power of representing the members of the Holy Family. There are many +fine presentations of Christ bearing the Cross, but none so imaginative +as the Vicenza picture. For there we see in the sensitive face, the +direct eye, and steady earnest mouth, the signs of completed power over +self, while in the tear drop that sparkles on the cheek is the sign of +suffering that broke the body, whose soul it could not quell—for neither +brow nor eye are those of one who weeps. The Correr painting contains a +similar double suggestion. Two details there are also which bear out the +idea that Giorgione is the author. One is the technique which so far as +can be seen is of the rich, smooth, carefully shaded kind, peculiar to +Giorgione’s work. The other is the landscape in which the low horizon +line and the plumy trees correspond closely to his certain works. Wreck +though it be, and possibly only a copy of the original, it is worth +study by students.[79] + +A smaller, but fortunately much more perfectly preserved, work hangs in +the London Gallery under the name of School of Giorgione. It represents +a bearded man on a throne and other figures in an open landscape. +Whoever, unafraid of finding something unexpected, looks at this picture +with critical eye, will, I think, realise that it is not a school work, +but by the master himself. It is very carefully wrought in design and +execution, as a youthful work would be likely to be, and as the two +Florence panels are. The rich clear colours and the bright sunshine +spread over the scene, are such as are found in the Florence panels, the +Kingston Lacy picture, those in Vienna, and the Virgin of Castelfranco. +The landscape is typically Giorgionesque, closed in as it is in the +foreground, and opening into a middle distance of rich meadows, +enlivened here and there with tall steep-roofed houses. The rich detail +and broad chiaroscuro find their counterpart over and over again in +Giorgione’s work; and finally, who but Giorgione ever presented to our +delighted eyes a scene so simple, so dreamlike, so poetic, so defined, +and yet so difficult to understand? It is a dream picture, rendered with +the utmost clearness of vision. It is only the masters who can do +this—only Giorgione and Keats and such rare spirits who can put in terms +for the ordinary plodding mortal to grasp, the evanescent visions of the +mind. + +Of very different character is the portrait of a youth in a large hat in +the Vienna Gallery. Crowe and Cavalcaselle attribute this to Morto da +Feltre. It was impossible for me to see the original when I was in +Vienna, but study of an excellent photograph makes me doubt this +attribution. If I mistake not, the picture might be a copy of a portrait +by Giorgione. The treatment of the landscape is sufficient to show that +Giorgione’s hand did not touch the work itself, but scarcely any other +than Giorgione can have originated this grave sweet face with the steady +eyes. + +To close this necessarily unsatisfactory part of my subject, there is +the etching by H. van der Borcht which quite possibly is copied from a +lost Giorgione. It represents a woman seated upon a dead warrior, and +below the figures are the words _Giorgione inv_.[80] It seems not +unlikely that it preserves for us one of the frescoes long since faded +from some palace wall in Venice. It is but the echo of a voice that is +still, but even as such it means much. + +If now my arguments, in the foregoing discussion, are based upon sound +reason rather than upon theory, it results that the following are the +works by which we must judge Giorgione’s genius, and that these must +serve as a standard for further study of his work: + + 1. Vienna, David (copy). + + 2. Vienna, Three Philosophers. + + 3. Vienna, Gypsy Madonna. + + 4. Vienna, Portrait of a Youth (copy?). + + 5. Venice, Fondaco dei Tedeschi. (The engravings can be used in + giving suggestions of Giorgione’s methods of composition.) + + 6. Venice, Chiesa di San Rocco, Christ carrying the Cross. + + 7. Venice, Giovanelli Palace, Soldier and Woman. + + 8. Venice, Correr Museum, Pietà (copy?). + + 9. Castelfranco, Madonna Enthroned. + + 10. Dresden, Venus. + + 11. Kingston Lacy, Judgment of Solomon. + + 12. Buda Pesth, Birth of Paris (copy). + + 13. Florence, Uffizi, Judgment of Solomon. + + 14. Florence, Uffizi, Fire-test of Moses. + + 15. Florence, Uffizi, Knight of Malta. + + 16. Boston, Mrs. Gardner, Head of Christ. + + 17. London, National Gallery, Study for figure of San Liberale. + + 18. London, National Gallery, Epiphany. + + 19. London, National Gallery, David and Solomon. + + 20. London, Mr. Beaumont (Lord Allandale), Shepherd’s Offering. + + 21. London, Mr. Benson, Holy Family. + + 22. St. Petersburg, Hermitage, Judith. + +At first sight it may seem that there is more variety of style in these +pictures than the works of any one artist would show, especially one who +died young. There are, however, certain general considerations to be +clearly remembered. Giorgione was born and grew up in a time of great +discovery, when long-established thoughts and habits were rapidly +changing, so that we should commit a serious error were we to expect him +to paint the same subjects, or in the same manner, as his predecessors. +His works would necessarily be different from theirs. He would naturally +show greater variety and, owing to his youth, his style would not have +become fixed. What is certain is that his contemporaries regarded him +with the greatest admiration, so the best way to fit ourselves to judge +him is to study the life of Venice in his day. + +It is not much that is left us of the great man’s life work, but it +suffices to show what he was, not only as a painter, but as a man; and +why his influence was so great on his contemporaries, and why so long as +the human heart stays young his spirit will continue to call loudly to +it. That he was a perfect colourist, that is to say, that he understood +how to juxtapose the rich oriental colours of the Venetian palette in +such wise that each tint emphasised the effect of all the others, or +that as a draughtsman he could adequately portray the images in his +brain, does not explain the effect he has on those who care for him. +These are merely technical qualities that are not difficult to acquire, +and that many a man has possessed. + +It is the spirit of Giorgione’s work that makes him what he is. He spoke +in the simplest, broadest way to the deeper side of our nature. Not so +imbued with the ceremonies of religion as his master Bellini, nor so +given over to the full-blooded joy in the beauties of this world as his +comrade Titian, he recognised that fanaticism or sensuality are equally +spiritual death, and that the whole and perfect soul must be tempered in +the fires of the heart, and cooled in the breezes of Nature. No such +loveable Madonna had been painted as she of Castelfranco,—no purer +presentation exists of the compelling beauty of the human figure than +his Venus. Unabashed “he held both hands before the fire of life,” not +warming first one and then the other, but with true poetic feeling +combining every beauty that he perceived in one harmonious song. + +Always steadily reaching for the same goal, this even-poised master did +not one day paint such exalted figures as Bellini’s Virgin and Companion +Saints in the Frari, and on another such heathen festivities as the same +master’s Bacchanal. But, as he loved music and pleasant company and such +pleasantnesses of life, so in his painting he shows us grace and harmony +and good breeding. And as these things are hard to find in our daily +course and harder still to fix long enough to paint their semblance, he +fashioned for himself a world, an Arcadia, where men and women, +surrounded by beautiful Nature, lived together, enjoying a life where +there was both work and play. In all temperate reason they employ their +energies now on problems of deep thought, and now in the satisfaction of +health and natural bodily enjoyment, and it is just because of the +reasonableness of this balance of mind and body that his pictures seem +poetic, dreamlike and difficult to explain. As Keats, more than any +scientist or idle dreamer, tells how the nightingale entrances the soul, +so Giorgione depicts the Virgin and her Child guarded by attendant +Saints, or adored by kings and slaves, with greater persuasiveness than +any theologian. But he does this neither as one diverted only by the +pageantry, nor as an historian. Endowed with a poet’s instinct, he saw +the deeper meaning of the scene and depicted those parts that truly +illustrate it. + +Other artists there have been endowed with this same instinct, but their +works do not obtain from us of to-day as full response as from our +forefathers who lived when they were painted, and this because they do +not give visual form to matters of lasting import, but to those fleeting +affairs that constitute fashion. This is not so of Giorgione. The glory +of his work will never fade, for his appeal is to the spirit of +youth—that spirit which is compounded of a pure and natural love in all +things beautiful, be they physical or spiritual, natural or divine, and +with energy sufficient to urge it forward to the acquisition of, and the +becoming part of, each and all of these various perfections. Such was +Giorgione: neither utterly pagan, nor completely christian, but +absolutely human in the finest sense, in that his perceptions were clear +enough to see the special value of all things beautiful and his +technical powers adequate to give due expression to that which he +perceived. + + + + + INDEX + + + Alexander, portraits of, 82 + + allegory of Time and Truth, 13 + + archæological study of art, 3, 4 + + art as an index of life, 4, 57, 97, 133, 147 + function of, 128 + + Athena, head of, from Cyrene, 135 f. + date of, 142 + local work, 149 + + + beauty, Greek love of, 76 + + Bellini and Giorgione, 173, 181 + + Bellini, Bacchanal, 190 + + Berenson, 154, 157, 171, 172 + + Bernini, an estimate of, 3 f. + architectural work, 40 f. + classes of his work, 14 + clay models, 21, 44 f. + contemporary honour for, 6 + designs for piazza of St. Peter’s, 50 f. + early life of, 15 + estimate and characterization of, 42 + expression of religion, 22 + influence of, 23 + multiplicity of sketches, 19 + originality of, 20 + portraits of, 10 f. + sculptor’s models, 21 f., 44 f. + list of, 46 + technique of, 18 f. + versatility, 40 + + Bernini, works of, + Æneas and Anchises, 16 + angels, used in architecture, 23 f. + Apollo and Daphne, 7, 17 + Baldacchino in St. Peter’s, 33 + Beata Albertona, 32 + Cattedra in St. Peter’s, 33 + Daniel in the lions’ den, 29 + David, 16 + fountains, 14, 34 + Habakkuk, 26 + Maria di Magdala, 32, 49 + portraits, 14, 35 + Bishop Santoni, 37 + Costanza Buonavelli, 37 + Francis I, 39 + Louis XIV, 39 + Mons. Francesco Barberini, 39 + Mons. Montoya, 37 + Paul V, 38 + Proserpina, 17 + saints, 25 + Santa Bibiana, 26 + St. Jerome, 27, 47 + Saint Theresa, 30, 48 + Truth, 13 + + Borghese pope, patronage of, 15 + + Borghese warrior, 17 + + Botticelli, 112, 156 + Virgin and child in Boston, 157 + + Brandegee Collection, 21, 41, 45, 51, 85 + + Browning, 69 + + Brunn, H., 138 + + Bupalos and Athenis, 77 + + + Carracci, 3 + + Cariani and Giorgione, 160, 166 + + Catena and Giorgione, 177 + draperies of, 183 + St. Jerome (National Gallery), 178 + Knight adoring Infant Christ, 178, 182 + + Corbulo, portrait of, 57, 88 + + Cyrene, sculpture of, 136 f. + + + Dante, Greek spirit in, 113 + + Demetrius of Alopeke, 84 + + + Egyptian portraiture, 60 + sculpture, 61, 140 + + emotion controlled in Greece, 103 + + evolution of art, 4 + + Farnese Hercules, 123 + + Florentine portraits, 90 + + Furtwaengler, A., 138 + + Futurists, 140 + + + Ghirlandaio, 112 + + Giorgione, 155 f. + draperies of, 183 + life, 159 + list of works, 203, 210 + Anonimo Morelli, 163 + Barri, 164 + Berenson, 171 + Crowe and Cavalcaselle, 168 + Morelli, 169 + Ridolfi, 161 + Vasari, 159 + paintings attributed to, 155 f. + romantic quality of, 181 + spirit of his work, 211 + the true Giorgione, 172 f. + treatment of landscape, 191 + + Giorgione, works of, + Birth of Paris (copy, Buda-Pesth), 196 + Christ carrying the Cross (San Rocco, Vienna), 184 + David and Solomon (National Gallery), 208 + Epiphany (National Gallery), 175 + Gypsy Madonna (Vienna), 204 + Head of Christ (Gardner Collection, Boston), 185 + Holy Family (Benson), 183 f. + Judgment of Solomon (Kingston Lacy), 172 f., 182 + Knight of Malta (Uffizi), 58, 185 + Madonna Enthroned (Castelfranco), 181 + Pietà (Venice), 206 + Portrait (Temple Newsam), 202 + Portrait (Vienna), 209 + San Liberale (National Gallery), 186 + Shepherd’s Offering (Lord Allandale), 180 f. + The Tempest (Venice), 181 + Three Philosophers (Vienna), 181 + Venus (Dresden), 174, 181 + + Giorgione, works attributed to, + Allegory (Dresden), 195 + Cassone pictures (Padua), 195 + Concert (Pitti), 188 + Daphne and Apollo (Venice), 194 + Fête Champêtre (Louvre), 189 + Head of Boy (Hampton Court), 187 + Judith (St. Petersburg), 195 + Madonna (Madrid), 193 + Madonna and Saints (Louvre), 187 + Nymph and Satyr (Pitti), 187 + Orpheus and Eurydice (Bergamo), 200 + Portrait (Berlin), 198 + Portrait (Borghese), 196 + Portrait (Buda-Pesth), 197 + Portrait (from Crespi Collection), 202 + Portrait (from Doetsch Collection), 201 + + Guido, 3 + + + hair as a means of dating sculpture, 144 + + Hipponax, caricature of, 77 + + humanity of the Greek gods, 150 + + + Kresilas, portrait of Pericles, 58, 75, 78 f. + + + Laocoon, 123 + + Laws of sculpture, 7 + + Leonardo, 140, 158 + + logical reasoning about pictures, 176 + + Longinus, 46 + + Lowell on Lincoln, 69 + + lucidity of Greek sculpture, 140 + + Lysippus, portraits of Alexander, 82 + + + “Massacre of the Innocents,” 73 + + materials for sculpture, 145 + + Michael Angelo and Bernini, 16 + + Michael Angelo, 97 f. + affectation of the period, 119, 120 + complexity of his work, 101, 103 + feeling for the nude figure, 101 + muscles emphasized, 120, 123 + period of, 98, 103, 111 + pupils of, 122 + sonnets and letters, 115 + + Michael Angelo, works of, + Bacchus, 116 f. + Battle of the Centaurs, 133 + David, 133 + Eros, 116, 118, 120 + Madonna of Bruges, 116, 131 + Moses, 100, 102 + Night and Dawn, 122 + Pietà in St. Peter’s, 100 + Sistine Chapel, 121, 125 f., 132 + Victor, 116 + + Morelli on Giorgione, 155 f. + + Mourning Athena, 148 + + Myron’s Discobolus, 17 + + mystical fervour in art, 3 + + + Niobid group, 73 + + nude figure felt under drapery, 101 f. + + + Oberammergau, 31 + + origins of art, 3 + + + Pausanias, 138 + + Pericles, portrait of, 58, 75, 78 f. + + Pheidias and Michael Angelo, 93 f. + + Pheidias, age of, 105, 109 + and Pericles, 110 + influence of, 94 f. + + Pheidias, work of, + Athena Parthenos, 131 + Lemnian Athena, 101, 131 + Parthenon, 3, 132 + frieze, 118 + pediments, 101, 121 + Zeus, 108 + + photography and art criticism, 155 + + physical beauty prized by Greeks, 151 + + portraits of women and children, 89 + + portraits made for friends, 65 + + portraiture, art of, 57 f. + commemorative, 60, 64 + Egyptian, 60 + Florentine, 90 + Greek and Roman, 85 + in language, 66 + in large compositions, 62 + in painting and sculpture, 59, 71, 74 + motives for, 59 + religious, 59 + summary, 91 + + + Raphael, Angelo Doni, 58 + + realism, in sculpture, 75 + + realism, Greek and Roman, 75 + + religion and art, 104, 106 + + Roselli, 156 + + Roman art, 4 + + Ruskin, 156 + + + Scipio, so-called bust of, 57 + + Sheik-el-Beled, 57 + + Shelley, 66, 68 + + Silanion, 83 + + + technical peculiarities in paintings, 157 f. + + temple, significance of the Greek, 106 + + Tintoretto, Greek spirit of, 113 + + Titian, Duke of Norfolk, 58 + + Triton, 47 + + “Truth unveiled by Time,” 13 + + Turner’s Rizpah, 67 + + + violence in art, 8 + + + wealth and art, 64, 91 + + + youth in Greek art, 111 + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + Filippo Baldinucci Fiorentino. _Vita del cavaliere Gio. Lorenzo + Bernini._ Firenze. 1682. + + Domenico Bernino. _Vita del cavaliere Gio. Lorenzo Bernino._ Roma. + 1713. + + Stanislao Fraschetti. _Il Bernini._ Milan. 1900. + +Footnote 2: + + Fraschetti, _op. cit._, p. 47. + +Footnote 3: + + Fraschetti, _op. cit._, pp. 425, 426. + +Footnote 4: + + Fraschetti, _op. cit._, p. 428. + +Footnote 5: + + This portrait (Fraschetti, _op. cit._, p. 434) is probably a copy of + one owned by Baron Geymüller in London. + +Footnote 6: + + Fraschetti, _op. cit._, p. 429. + +Footnote 7: + + In the Museum at Weimar is a portrait on which is written that it was + done by Bernini himself, and as an _autoritratto_ it has been + published by Fraschetti (p. 433). It is a wretched performance, done + not by Bernini, but by someone who had neither an observant eye nor a + well-trained hand. + + There is still another portrait which I think is very probably of him. + It hangs in the Capitoline Gallery in Rome (Plate II), where it is + called “Portrait of Velasquez, by himself,” an attribution which no + student of Velasquez would maintain to-day. The shape of the head and + face and the expression are extremely like Bernini. Even the different + shape and angle of the two eyebrows is the same as in his portraits. + The quality of the hair is the same, and the way it grows over the + temples. In the earlier portraits of him the hair is parted on the + right side as in the Capitoline picture. The nose is very nearly the + same as in the pencil portraits by himself in the National Gallery in + Rome and in the Chigi collection. + +Footnote 8: + + The Borghese Warrior was found at Anzio at the beginning of the + seventeenth century. See Friederichs-Wolters, _Gipsabgüsse_, 1885, p. + 541 f; Vulpius, _Vetus Latium_, 1726, Vol. III, p. 28. + +Footnote 9: + + It is not improbable that the statue of St. Lawrence, in the Strozzi + palace in Florence, which Bernini made at this time, was influenced by + the Dying Gaul. The two statues resemble each other closely in many + ways. There is a tradition that Michael Angelo restored certain small + portions of the Gaul, but the character of the work of the + restorations suggests Bernini rather than Michael Angelo. + +Footnote 10: + + In Brookline, Mass.; see p. 44 and Plates XI-XXVII. + +Footnote 11: + + The head reminds one of the Capitoline Alexander, which Bernini may + have seen. + +Footnote 12: + + Balcarres, _The Evolution of Italian Sculpture_, p. 333–334. + +Footnote 13: + + Balcarres, _op. cit._, p. 334. + +Footnote 14: + + In relation to the influence of ancient work on Bernini, it is worth + note that the four great figures in the Piazza Navona are very + Hellenistic in character and would, if turned into reliefs with their + surrounding trees and animals, resemble closely the fountain-reliefs + of the Græco-Roman world. + +Footnote 15: + + The one of Paul V is in the Villa Borghese, Rome; the other two are in + the National Gallery, Venice. + +Footnote 16: + + In the Brandegee Collection. It was published by Signor Busiri-Vici in + his work _La Piazza Vaticana_, Rome, 1890, and by Fraschetti, _op. + cit._, p. 307. The latter gives reduced and poor reproductions of the + drawings. We have thought it worth while therefore to reproduce them + on a larger scale; see Part III of this Study. + +Footnote 17: + + In San Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome. + +Footnote 18: + + They were exhibited in Rome by the then owner Sig. Andrea Busiri-Vici + at the Bernini Exposition in 1879 and are spoken of and reproduced in + small form by Fraschetti in his book on Bernini. + +Footnote 19: + + And these bonds are dependent, I believe, on fundamental laws of + sculpture and painting. + +Footnote 20: + + It is true that wood was sometimes made use of, but for serious work + only in the early times before the art had been developed. Nor can it + be supposed that the lack of marble in Egypt was the effective cause + that led to the use of granites and basalts. The Egyptians were + energetic traders and might have obtained marble had they desired it, + but the fact is they preferred the harder sorts of stone, though + alabaster was sometimes used. + +Footnote 21: + + That there may be no misunderstanding of the terms employed, I will + say that by breadth of treatment I mean that the sculptor or painter + leaves the various surfaces of the object reproduced by him in large + measure unbroken by small lights and shades which, however true to + nature, are apt in art to distract the attention from the general + effect. Though small differences are disregarded there may be, as + Greek work shows, exquisite modulation of surface. + +Footnote 22: + + I refer of course to statues in the round. The bas-reliefs show much + free action due partly to the technique, partly to their being in + softer stone and partly to the fact that the figures in them are + illustrations to historic chronicles and not primarily portraits. So + too figures and groups in wood, faience or metal are freer. + +Footnote 23: + + The bas-relief of the potter in the Acropolis Museum in Athens belongs + to this class. + +Footnote 24: + + Though no woman has ever reached the highest rank in any art, her + influence has been enormous. It is a subject to be studied by itself, + but it must be constantly kept in mind that no people who have + regarded woman from any but the highest point of view has ever + produced the noblest art. It may be a fallacy to regard her so, but it + is the most powerful and helpful ideal the western mind has yet + conceived. + +Footnote 25: + + When kept to its true course, the magnificent effects attained by + language in perpetuating landscape are splendidly seen in Ruskin, + when, for example, he describes the Roman Campagna (Preface to 2d ed., + _Modern Painters_) or Verona (_Joy Forever_, sec. 76 ff.). + +Footnote 26: + + In speaking of Niobe I refer naturally to the group in Florence and + not to the less well known and understood earlier groups at St. + Petersburg and elsewhere; typical examples of the massacre are those + by Matteo di Giovanni, in the church of the Servi at Siena, and by Fra + Angelico in the Academy at Florence. + +Footnote 27: + + The copies known to me are (1) in the British Museum, (2) in the + Vatican, (3) in the collection of Barrone Barracco, Rome, and (4) a + fragment in the collection of Alden Sampson, Esq., Haverford, Penn. + +Footnote 28: + + This is not the place to discuss the meaning of the Latin word + _nobilis_. Suffice to say that if it is translated in this passage by + its more commonplace equivalent of _famous_, the criticism has little + point, since it is self-evident that an enduring monument, whether a + statue or bust, adds to the fame of the individual in whose honour it + is erected. + +Footnote 29: + + It is a long-standing error to suppose that Pericles’s skull as shown + in these busts is peculiarly domed. The shape of the tilted helmet + makes it seem to be so, but comparison with other heads covered by the + Corinthian helmet shows that his is in no way abnormal when thus + represented, however it may have been when uncovered. + +Footnote 30: + + In the Brandegee Collection. + +Footnote 31: + + One instance will suffice to show what I mean by this. Far more pure + imagination is shown in the Italian representations of the Creation or + the Last Judgment than in the Greek scenes of the lives of their Gods + with which they decorated pediment and frieze. + +Footnote 32: + + The recent discovery of a life-size marble copy of the Athena of the + Marsyas group has made Myron’s character much clearer than before. See + Pollak in the _Jahresheften des Oesterreichischen Archaeologischen + Institutes_, 1909, p. 154. + +Footnote 33: + + The modern theory that wall paintings should be flat, that they should + not give the impression of an opening beyond the wall they are on, is + contradicted by all the practice of the Renaissance. Lippi, Gozzoli, + Leonardo, Raphael, Michael Angelo, Veronese, Correggio, to recall but + a few, all used wall painting as a means of suggesting larger + dimensions and more ample space than the rooms they decorated actually + afforded. + +Footnote 34: + + To illustrate by an example: the low relief work of the Tempietto at + Rimini is a more perfect form of decoration (partly because of its + permanency) than painting would have been. + +Footnote 35: + + In the _Bulletin of the Archæological Institute of America_, Vol. II + (1910–11), Plates 47 and 79, and p. 162. + +Footnote 36: + + Mr. Berenson has done much to correct the attributions in his studies + on the artist he calls, since his real name is unknown, the _Amico di + Sandro_. Berenson’s _amico_ was, I believe, several _amici_. + +Footnote 37: + + In the gallery of Mr. Davis, in Newport, R.I. + +Footnote 38: + + An inscription of the seventeenth century on the back of this picture + reads: _Giorgon De Castel Franco_, F. Maestro De Titiano. The picture + was engraved by Wenzel Hollar in 1650, as the portrait of Buffalmacco + by Giorgione. + +Footnote 39: + + The picture in Brunswick, a poor replica of which is in Buda-Pesth, + is, or is derived from, a picture engraved by Hollar in 1650 and + called by him a “portrait of Giorgione by himself.” This is possible, + but the picture is a mere wreck. See Justi, _loc. cit._ + +Footnote 40: + + Larpent, “Le jugement de Paris attribué au Giorgione,” Christiania, + 1885. + +Footnote 41: + + See Gronau, _Repertorium für Kunstwissenchaft_, 1908, p. 405. His + comment on p. 407 seems to me an error. + +Footnote 42: + + Cf. p. 52 f. + +Footnote 43: + + _The Painter’s Voyage of Italy._ Englished by W. Lodge. Written + originally in Italian by Giacomo Barri, 1679. + +Footnote 44: + + I put a question mark after those which by general consent are no + longer attributed to Giorgione, and those which I doubt and shall + discuss in the following pages. + +Footnote 45: + + It is noteworthy that the backs of these two panels have patterns + painted on them showing that the pictures once formed part of some + piece of furniture, and it was in decorating such objects that much of + Giorgione’s time, according to Ridolfi, was employed. For Bode’s + remarks cf. Burchardt’s _Cicerone_, Vol. II, 913. + +Footnote 46: + + _Die Galerien zu München und Dresden_ (Leipzig, 1891), p. 270 f. + +Footnote 47: + + Morelli adds the following note: “Weder die Herren Crowe und + Cavalcaselli, noch Herr Director W. Bode lassen diese zwei Bildchen + alz Werke des Giorgione gelten, sondern sehen dieselben als + Schülerarbeiten an.” So far as Crowe and Cavalcaselle are concerned, + this statement is an error, as one can easily see by reading what they + say on pp. 128–9 of the second volume of their _History of Painting in + North Italy_. + +Footnote 48: + + I have not yet mentioned this picture, but shall speak of it in detail + later. + +Footnote 49: + + _The Venetian Painters of the Renaissance_, p. 107. + +Footnote 50: + + _Gazette des Beaux Arts_, October, 1897. + +Footnote 51: + + Berenson in the first edition of his little book on Venetian Painting + did not mention it either, but in the third edition he passes it by + with these words: “The scarcely less famous picture belonging to Mr. + Banks is by the hand which painted the Christ and Adulteress, of the + Glasgow Corporation Gallery, and that hand is Giovanni Cariani’s. To + repeat, I would have preferred to publish opinions so divergent from + those usually received, in a form adequate to the importance of the + theme; but I console myself with the belief that the merest indication + suffices the competent. As for the others—Procul o procul este, + profani.” + + Such statements can only be excused by supposing the writer to have + been pressed for time. Unless they are of sufficient importance for + the author to make them intelligible, they are not entitled to our + consideration. No critic is justified in making an arbitrary statement + which he will not take the pains to make clear. + +Footnote 52: + + This picture was formerly called a Bellini. It comes from the + collection of Sir William Miles of Leigh Court. See Redford, _Art + Sales_, I, pp. 364–5. + +Footnote 53: + + Berenson, _Venetian Painters of the Renaissance_. + +Footnote 54: + + See _Archivio Storico dell’ Arte_, 1895, I, p. 77. In this passage the + writer (Miss Ffoulkes) speaking of an exhibition in London mentions + the Benson picture and the Epiphany. She thinks them by neither + Giorgione, nor Catena, but offers no suggestion as to the painter + except that there is another picture by him in the Venice Accademia + attributed (wrongly) to Cordegliaghi. + +Footnote 55: + + _Die Galerie zu Dresden_, p. 266 f. + +Footnote 56: + + It is noteworthy that Morelli claimed (as is shown by the + with which + the attribution is marked) to be the first to show that this picture + of the Knight was by Catena. Crowe and Cavalcaselle had already + written of the picture as by Catena. Considerable care must be + exercised in the use of Morelli’s writings to distinguish between his + true discoveries (which were many) and his agreements with earlier + authorities. It may be that these agreements were based on his own + private study, but there is a great difference between the result of + one’s study leading to our giving assent to what others have perceived + before us and our discovery of what had never been imagined by our + predecessors. _Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerint_, but still + honesty and justice are of greater value than fame. Nor does a + pleasant temper show in the implied sarcasm of Morelli’s words about + this picture which he calls a “herrliches Werk des Catena, obwohl es + im Galeriekatalog noch immerfort blos der Schule des Giambellino + zugetheilt wird (+).” It is surely not so very inaccurate to describe + a work by Catena as of the ‘Schule des Giambellino.’ + +Footnote 57: + + A copy of this picture hangs in the Vienna Gallery and I was told by + the Director in 1901 that he considered it the original; but this + seems to me impossible, for it is much less good in every way than the + Beaumont picture. A drawing of a portion of it is at Windsor. + +Footnote 58: + + Parts of Mr. Benson’s picture have suffered from repainting. This is + especially true of the landscape, which seems to have lost its + original form. + +Footnote 59: + + _Die Galerie zu Dresden_, p. 297, n. + +Footnote 60: + + The inaccurate copy in the Rovigo Gallery is a wretched daub that is + not worth preserving. There are other poor replicas of the picture; + one owned by Count Lanckoronski in Vienna is considered by Venturi to + be the original. The other picture in the Rovigo Gallery (No. 11), + sometimes spoken of in the same breath with Giorgione’s name, is + equally worthless. It is nothing but a wretched copy of the head of + the Vienna David. + +Footnote 61: + + The picture in Madrid is by Titian; the one in the Louvre is said by + Crowe and Cavalcaselle to be by Pellegrino da San Daniele, while + Berenson attributes it to Cariani. + +Footnote 62: + + Examen | Historique et Critique | Des Tableaux | Exposées + Provisoirement | Venant des premier et second envoies de Milan, + Crémone, Parme, Plaisance, Modène, Cento et Bologne, auquel on a joint + le detail de tous les Monumens des Arts qui sont arrivés d’Italie.—An + VI^e de la Republique. + +Footnote 63: + + A good replica is in the Corsini Gallery, Florence. + +Footnote 64: + + _Die Galerie zu Dresden_, p. 276. + +Footnote 65: + + And still is in some galleries, as Hampton Court. + +Footnote 66: + + The picture has been much restored, but the faults pointed out here + are not due to the restorer. + +Footnote 67: + + _Die Galerie zu Dresden_, p. 282. A copy of the picture is at Hampton + Court. + +Footnote 68: + + _Die Galerie zu Dresden_, p. 282. + +Footnote 69: + + _Gazette des Beaux Arts_, Oct. 1897, p. 270. Berenson in this + suggestive article has mixed ecstatic and girlish talk inextricably + with sound argument. In his criticism of the Judith he says: “Il + faudrait le talent d’un poète de premier ordre pour exprimer dans la + plénitude tout ce qu’on devine dans la _Judith_ de Saint Pétersbourg.” + True, but though such sentiments fill the page, they do not have the + same effect on our mind as the picture. + +Footnote 70: + + See the engraving published by Justi in his _Giorgione_. + +Footnote 71: + + _Italian Painters: Critical Studies of their Works._ By Giovanni + Morelli. _The Galleries of Munich and Dresden._ Translated by C. J. + Ffoulkes (London, 1893), p. 218. + +Footnote 72: + + _Die Galerien Borghese und Doria-Pamfili in Rom_ (Leipzig, 1890), p. + 99, n. 1. + +Footnote 73: + + Not only did Morelli weaken his writings by exaggeration—which, + however, was quite natural—but in the less excusable way of giving + illustrations that are misleading. The woodcuts which serve to show + the _Grundform_ of hands and ears are only partially exact, and in one + case, the Bonifazio ear, a positive caricature. The process cuts of + the paintings are too miserable to consider. This is unfortunately as + true of the translations as of the original editions. + +Footnote 74: + + Nothing shows better the distinction between the work of the + Renaissance and that of to-day than the fact that the careful training + to which the earlier artists were accustomed led them to produce in + their youthful and undeveloped period finished works and sketches that + are stiff, whereas nowadays the majority of the works of young artists + show not so much stiffness as laxity. The one developed from hardness + to easy restraint, the other advances from looseness to a mastery + generally much less even. + +Footnote 75: + + Reproduced in the _Burlington Magazine_, 1895–6, p. 338. + +Footnote 76: + + The reason I have not discussed in detail the list given by Cook in + his book on Giorgione (London, 1904) and in various articles in the + _Burlington Magazine_ (1905–1906) and _Gazette des Beaux Arts_ (1902) + is due to no careless disregard of his work but to the fact that his + point of view in regard to Giorgione and the principles of criticism + are so utterly dissimilar to mine that no good would be gained from + pointing out in detail my disagreement with his judgment. + +Footnote 77: + + Since writing the above I have been pleased to have Signor Venturi + tell me that he, too, considered the work to be by Giorgione. He does + not agree with me about the Benson, Beaumont and National Gallery Holy + Families, but he does not share the Catena theory of their origin. His + full views will unquestionably be propounded in his forthcoming + edition of Vasari’s _Life of Giorgione_. Cook also thinks this Virgin + is by Giorgione. Venturi’s views on Giorgione are indicated in the + _Galleria Crespi_, p. 133 f. + +Footnote 78: + + I leave out the one with the forged monogram of Albert Dürer in the + Correr Museum, for it is, I believe, by no means sure that Bellini was + the painter. + +Footnote 79: + + Before the earthquake I saw in the Gallery at Messina a picture by + Antonello da Messina the composition of which is practically identical + with, and must be the origin of, the Correr panel. Whether the Messina + picture still exists or was destroyed I do not know. + +Footnote 80: + + Justi’s book contains a reproduction of the engraving. A copy of the + engraving is owned by Mr. C. F. Murray of London. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last + chapter. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77325 *** |