A Popular Handbook to the National Gallery, Volume I, Foreign Schools

120

This is the story told by Dominici, the Neapolitan historian. According to Cean Bermudez, following Palomino (the Spanish historian), Ribera died at Naples honoured and rich.

121

The tradition that he was a natural son of the Barbarella family, and in consequence called Barbarelli, appears to be unfounded.

122

"Two figures of Giorgione's are still traceable, one of them (wrote Ruskin in 1846), singularly uninjured, is seen from far above and below the Rialto, flaming like the reflection of a sunset" (Modern Painters vol. i. ed. 3 pt. ii. sec. i. ch. vii. § 30). This beautiful figure was engraved by Ruskin for his fifth volume; he called her from her glowing colour "the Hesperid Aeglé."

123

Ruskin's seven are Giorgione, Titian, Veronese, Tintoret, Correggio, Reynolds, and Turner (Modern Painters, vol. v. pt. ix. ch. xi, § 8, n).

124

A reaction in this respect is observable in the latest writer on Giorgione (Mr. Herbert Cook in the "Great Masters" Series), who shows good cause for restoring many pictures to the master. The National Gallery, he says (p. 95), affords unrivalled opportunity for studying the various phases of Giorgione at different stages of his career. Nos. 1160 and 1173 represent his earliest style; No. 1123, his later; Nos. 269 and 636 are intermediate.

125

A contemporary document, recently discovered, proves that the artist died of the plague. (See appendix to Mr. Herbert Cook's Giorgione, 1900).

126

Lecture at Oxford 1884 (reported in Cook's Studies in Ruskin, p. 251). See also the "Traveller's edition" of the Stones of Venice, vol. ii. ch. vi., where the picture is described as "one which unites every artistic quality for which the painting of Venice has become renowned with a depth of symbolism and nobleness of manner exemplary of all that in any age of art has characterised its highest masters." A copy of this masterpiece is in the collection of the Arundel Society, now to be seen in the National Gallery.

127

In an interesting discussion with Sir J. E. Millais, R.A., Mr. Watts, R.A., refers to the colours in this picture. Sir J. Millais had said that time and age are the greatest old masters, and that old Venetian colours were crude. Mr. Watts replied: "The colour of the best-preserved pictures by Titian shows a marked distinction between light flesh tones and white drapery. This is most distinctly seen in the small 'Noli me Tangere' in our National Gallery, in the so-called 'Venus' of the Tribune, and in the 'Flora' of the Uffizi, both in Florence, and in Bronzino's 'All is Vanity,' also in the National Gallery (651). In the last-named picture, for example, the colour is as crude and the surface as bare of mystery as if it had been painted yesterday. As a matter of fact, white unquestionably tones down, but never becomes colour; indeed, under favourable conditions, and having due regard to what is underneath, it changes very little. In the 'Noli me Tangere,' to which I have referred, the white sleeve of the Magdalen is still a beautiful white, quite different from the white of the fairest of Titian's flesh – proving that Titian never painted his flesh white" (Magazine of Art, January 1889).

128

Or possibly at Vicenza. See Layard, i. 283 n. The words in the document relied upon to establish his birth at Vicenza are ambiguous, and may refer to his father.

129

Its ascription to Botticelli's own hand is, however, questioned by many critics. Thus Dr. Richter says, "I know of no authentic picture by Botticelli in which the drawing of the hands and feet is so poor and coarse as are here, for instance, those of the Infant Saviour; the type of the child is positively repulsive, whereas in Botticelli's own works it is pre-eminently in the representation of the Infant Christ that his great merits are strikingly apparent" (Lectures on the National Gallery, p. 62). The child, whether painted by Botticelli or by another hand, is undeniably ugly; but the expression of the Madonna, and the figures of the Baptist and the Angel seem to me to show certainly the work of the master himself. Moreover, the critics who dispute the authenticity of this picture admit that of No. 915. Yet, as "D. S. M." says, "the mother here is the same person as the Venus, looking out of the picture with the same effect of gentle detachment, circumscribed with the same draughtsman's lines; the infant, whose type Dr. Richter finds 'positively repulsive,' is the same infant as the Satyrs of the other picture, and so all through" (Saturday Review, Feb. 18, 1899). On the back of the panel is written in the style of the 16th century the name of Giuliano da San Gallo, the celebrated architect, who was also a painter. There are drawings from his hand in the British Museum, which show that he came from Botticelli's school. His name on the back of this picture proves, it is argued, that it is by him. It may, however, very probably only signify that the picture formerly belonged to him.

130

Mr. Pater, in a well-known passage, gives a different explanation of the peculiar sentiment in Botticelli's Madonnas. "Perhaps you have sometimes wondered why they attract you more and more, and often come – although conformed to no obvious type of beauty – back to you when the Madonnas of Raphael and the Virgins of Fra Angelico are forgotten. At first, contrasting them with those, you may have thought that there was something even mean or abject in them, for the lines of the face have little nobleness, and the colour is wan. For with Botticelli she too, though she holds in her hands the 'Desire of all Nations,' is one of those who are neither for God nor for his enemies (see under III. 1126), and her choice is on her face. She shrinks from the presence of the Divine Child, and pleads in unmistakable undertones for a warmer, lower humanity" (W. H. Pater: Studies of the Renaissance).

You promise heavens free from strife,Pure truth and perfect change of will;But sweet, sweet is this human life,So sweet I fain would breathe it still.Your chilly stars I can forgo:This warm, kind world is all I know.Ionica: Mimnermus in Church.

131

The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicleThat's curdied by the frost from purest snowAnd hangs on Dian's temple.

132

The doors of the temple of "two-headed Janus" at Rome were always thrown open when the State was at war, and only closed in time of peace.

133

The whole, or part, of this picture was at one time freely ascribed to Raphael; but Morelli has effectually disposed of the superstition by showing, amongst other arguments, that the drawings for Tobias and the Angel (in the Oxford University Gallery and in the British Museum) are undoubtedly by Perugino (Italian Art in the German Galleries, 1883, p. 289). The Oxford drawing is described and discussed, on the assumption that it is by Raphael, in Sir J. C. Robinson's Drawings by Michael Angelo and Raffaello, p. 129.

134

For a record of his movements the reader may refer to Morelli's Italian Masters in German Galleries, 1883, pp. 285-291.

135

Vasari's bias against the Umbrian master is too marked for any of his attacks to be accepted without corroboration.

136

In a critique of F. Walker's "Fishmongers' Stalls," Ruskin says: "If the reader will waste five minutes of his season in London in the National Gallery, he may see in the hand of Perugino's Tobias a fish worth all these on the boards together" (Arrows of the Chace, i. 177).

137

With regard to the "purist ideal" it should be noticed that "these fantasies of the earlier painters, though they darkened faith, never hardened feeling; on the contrary, the frankness of their unlikelihood proceeded mainly from the endeavour on the part of the painter to express, not the actual fact, but the enthusiastic state of his own feelings about the fact; he covers the Virgin's dress with gold, not with any idea of representing the Virgin as she ever was, or ever will be seen, but with a burning desire to show what his love and reverence would think fittest for her. He erects for the stable a Lombardic portico, not because he supposes the Lombardi to have built stables in Palestine in the days of Tiberius, but to show that the manger in which Christ was laid is, in his eyes, nobler than the grandest architecture in the world. He fills his landscape with church spires and silver streams, not because he supposes that either were in sight at Bethlehem, but to remind the beholder of the peaceful course and succeeding power of Christianity" (Modern Painters, vol. iii. pt. iv. ch. iv. § 10). For a different kind of feeling in "naturalistic" art, see under 744.

138

Visitors who are interested in such points of connoisseurship may be glad of this summary with regard to the works ascribed in the Official Catalogue to the associated painters, Fra Filippo Lippi, Filippino Lippi, and Botticelli. The undisputed pictures of Fra Filippo are 248, 666, and 667; of Filippino, 293 and 927. The pictures 592 and 1033 have marked resemblances both to Fra Filippo, Filippino, and to Botticelli, and are ascribed by different critics to one or other of those masters or pupils. 598 and 1124 are often ascribed to a pupil of Filippino; the pictures 586 and 589 to a pupil of Fra Filippo. The undisputed pictures of Botticelli are 1034 and 1126. The pictures 226, 275, 782, 915, and 916, are all ascribed by some critics to a pupil of his only, whilst to Botticelli himself has now been ascribed the portrait 626, formerly classed as "Unknown." To a supposed painter, christened by the critics "Amico di Sandro," 1124 and 1412 are attributed.

139

Layard, ii. 621. Similarly Ruskin says: "The possession of the Pisani Veronese will happily enable the English public and the English artist to convince themselves how sincerity and simplicity in statements of fact, power of draughtsmanship, and joy in colour, were associated in a perfect balance in the great workmen in Venice" (Catalogue of the Turner Sketches and Drawings, 1858, p. 10). As an instance of Veronese's "economical work" – a sure sign of a great painter – Ruskin refers to "the painting of the pearls on the breast of the nearer princess, in our best Paul Veronese. The lowest is about the size of a small hazel nut, and falls on her rose-red dress. Any other but a Venetian would have put a complete piece of white paint over the dress, for the whole pearl, and painted that into the colours of the stone. But Veronese knows beforehand that all the dark side of the pearl will reflect the red of the dress. He will not put white over the red, only to put red over the white again. He leaves the actual dress for the dark side of the pearl, and with two small separate touches, one white, another brown, places its high light and shadow. This he does with perfect care and calm: but in two decisive seconds. There is no dash nor display, nor hurry, nor error. The exactly right thing is done in the exactly right place, and not one atom of colour, nor moment of time spent vainly. Look close at the two touches, – you wonder what they mean. Retire six feet from the picture – the pearl is there!" (Modern Painters, vol. v. pt. viii. ch. iv. § 18). "One of the chief delights which any one who really enjoys painting finds in that art as distinct from sculpture, is in the exquisite inlaying or joiner's work of it, the fitting of edge to edge with a manual skill, precisely correspondent to the close application of crowded notes without the least slur, in fine harp or piano-playing. In many of the finest works of colour on a large scale, there is even some admission of the quality given to a painted window by the dark lead bars between the pieces of glass. Both Tintoret and Veronese, when they paint on dark grounds, continually stop short with their tints just before they touch others, leaving the dark ground showing between in a narrow bar. In the Paul Veronese in the National Gallery, you will find every here and there pieces of outline which you would suppose were drawn with a brown pencil. But no! look close, and you will find that they are the dark ground left between two tints, brought close to each other without touching" (Lectures on Landscape, § 68). Elsewhere, Ruskin calls special attention to the painting of "the drooped left hand of the princess, holding her crown" (Academy Notes, 1858, p. 46).

140

An even more striking instance is to be found in Veronese's picture of the Last Supper, now in the Academy of Venice. Here too he introduced his favourite dog, as well as dwarfs and armed retainers. He was summoned before the Inquisition for such irreverent anachronisms; and the account of his cross-examination is most amusing and instructive reading. A translation will be found in the appendix to Ruskin's Guide to the Academy at Venice.

141

Some readers may like to be referred to the passages in which Ruskin discusses the place of the dog in art, with special reference to Veronese. They are, Modern Painters, vol. v. pt. ix. ch. vi., and The Eagle's Nest, i. ch. viii.

142

Richter (Italian Art in the National Gallery, p. 74) disputes this. The kneeling girls are, he believes, the artist's daughters, whom he has also introduced into a picture in the Louvre, and the courtier presenting them is Veronese himself.

143

The pattern of the Madonna's robe in this picture is worth notice – "a good specimen of the treatment, probably taken from Persian examples, of a ground sprinkled with conventional sprays of flowers spaced regularly" (Vacher).

144

The three portraits, 1022, 1023, and 1025, formerly in the Casa Fenaroli at Brescia, were there all attributed to Moretto. Signor Morelli was the first to recognise in the two former the hand and mind of Moroni, under whose name they were sold to the National Gallery.

145

Mr. Dickes's ingenious and interesting explanation is now accepted by the authorities, and there can be little doubt of its correctness. The motto had previously been misread as του λιαν ποθω which was interpreted "by the desire of the extreme." The picture was for many years in the possession of the Martinengo Cesaresco family, and passed for a portrait of their ancestor Count Sciarra. The motto was interpreted as referring to the Count's desire to avenge the death of his father, who had been assassinated. The desire of the extreme, the activity of a restless spirit, was with the Count to the end, and he died fighting in France in the campaign which ended in a defeat of the Huguenots at the battle of Moncontour, October 3, 1569. But the Count Sciarra was a soldier-adventurer, showing no characteristics accordant with the nobleman before us other than that, according to a Brescian historian, "his eyes gleamed with an unconquerable desire." But the inscription is undoubtedly as given in the text, the accents being all clearly marked. The portrait is clearly not of a restless man of action, so much as of a dilettante. The dates of the Count Sciarra's career are also inconsistent with his being painted in this picture of Moretto's best period. The statements on behalf of the traditional identification made by the Contessa Evelyn Martinengo Cesaresco (Athenæum, Aug. 12, 1893) do not touch the points.

146

The feeling which one may thus find in these paintings of four centuries ago still lingers amongst the Italian peasantry, as readers of Miss Alexander's Roadside Songs and Christ's Folk in the Apennine (both edited by Mr. Ruskin) will know.

147

It may be worth noting that, according to the son of Turner's friend, Trimmer, this picture "had an entire new sky painted at the desire of Lawrence and other brother artists, who, when he had altered it, said the picture was ruined" (Thornbury's Life of Turner, i. 175).

148

Dr. Richter, in laying down the law to the contrary, gives too narrow an interpretation to Vasari's words. The Margaritone is certainly inferior to the best Byzantine work, but it adheres to the characteristics noticed above. Dr. Richter says: "This curious, if uninteresting painter, in all probability would never have emerged from his modest sphere of awkward provincialism into the full light of history but for the special praise bestowed upon him by his obliging countryman, Vasari. The latter states definitely, among other things, that Margaritone painted in the maniera greca; nevertheless, a single glance at the picture in the National Gallery is sufficient to convince the beholder that in reality this is not the case. Margaritone's pictures appear to me to be drawn in the wild and grotesque style prevalent in Italy during the early middle ages" (Lectures on the National Gallery, p. 11).

149

Dr. Richter ascribes all these pictures to the School of Duccio (see Lectures on the National Gallery, pp. 4-10.).

150

So described in the Official Catalogue. But "is the female saint on the right wing of the triptych really St. Catherine of Alexandria? Only the beginning of the inscription on either side of the figure containing the name can here still be deciphered. It runs thus: SCA (Saint) AL. The reading 'Catherine' thus apparently becomes inadmissible. Besides, the emblems of this female saint are decidedly not those of Catherine of Alexandria, who is always represented with a wheel as the emblem of her martyrdom, while the saint in the picture before us holds in her right hand a palm branch (?) and in her left a small cross, the emblem of confessors" (Richter's Italian Art in the National Gallery, p. 9).

151

This head is said to bear a marked resemblance to Mr. Swinburne as a young man (see W. B. Scott's Autobiographical Notes, ii. 18).

152

It was a practice at Italian weddings that the bride should be presented, as part of her dowry, with a coffer, which was intended to hold her trousseau and wedding presents. Some very fine specimens of these cassoni may be seen in the South Kensington Museum. They belong principally to the 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries. The typical cassone measured about six feet in length by two in height and two in breadth. The front and ends were decorated with paintings or carvings. The subjects depicted are either marriage scenes or stories borrowed from the Scriptures, from the classics, or from Petrarch. Many of the panel pictures in the National Gallery once adorned these cassoni. See, for instance, Nos. 1218 and 1219. A favourite subject was the allegory entitled "The Triumph of Love, Chastity, and Death," of which an excellent example is at South Kensington. The panel in this Gallery, No. 1196, has a similar subject.

153

This picture and the tondo of the same subject (1033) are by many critics ascribed to Botticelli. "In my opinion," says Morelli, "the two excellent but somewhat defaced pictures in the National Gallery, 592 and 1033, are works not of Filippino, but of Botticelli, whose dramatic powers are well displayed here" (Italian Masters in German Galleries, p. 236). For a full discussion leading to the same conclusion, see Monkhouse's In the National Gallery, p. 73.

154

Miss Betham-Edwards, on a visit to the painter at By, was shown some sketches for "The Horse Fair." "'There you have a Boulonnais,' I observed, as we contemplated the study of a fine black cart-horse. This remark gratified her. 'I am glad to find a stranger so much interested in our cart-horses'" (Anglo-French Reminiscences, ch. xxv.). Rosa Bonheur's knowledge of the animal world of France was very wide and precise.

155

This was Rosa Bonheur's own faith. "I believe," she once said, "in a just God, and a Paradise of the just. But religion (i. e. the religion of Rome) does not altogether satisfy me. I hold it monstrous that animals are supposed to be without souls. My poor lioness loved me. Thus she had more soul than certain human beings who do not know what it is to love anything."

156

"Giulio Romano did a little of everything for the Dukes of Mantua, – from painting the most delicate and improper little fresco for a bedchamber, to restraining the Po and Mincio with immense dykes, restoring ancient edifices and building new ones, draining swamps and demolishing and reconstructing whole streets, painting palaces and churches, and designing the city slaughter-house" (W. D. Howells's Italian Journeys, "Ducal Mantua"). Giulio's departure from Rome to Mantua was due to the scandal caused by the publication of some obscene designs of his (see Symonds, v. 341).

157

"The piece of St. Catherine's dress over her shoulders is painted on the under dress, after that was dry. All its value would have been lost, had the slightest tint or trace of it been given previously. This picture, I think, and certainly many of Tintoret's, are painted on dark grounds; but this is to save time, and with some loss to the future brightness of the colour" (Modern Painters, vol. v. pt. viii. ch. iv. § 17 n.).

158

Robert Browning, however, notes "the bonne bourgeoisie of his pictures; the dear common folk of his crowds, divinely pure they all are, but fresh from the streets and market-place" (Letters of Robert and E. B. Browning, i. 197). Mr. Langton Douglas in an illustrated monograph on Fra Angelico (1900) lays stress on the painter's "strength and freedom" as shown in the "Adoration of the Magi" at San Marco, or the "San Lorenzo giving alms" in the studio of Pope Nicholas; illustrates the influence of contemporary architecture and sculpture on his work; and characterises him not as "a saint with a happy knack of illustration," but as "an artist who happened to be a saint."

159

"This," says Mr. Hipkins of the present picture, "is the grandest and most extended mediæval band on record, worthy of the heavenly Host, to declare the praises of the Blessed Trinity." Mr. Hipkins gives an interesting identification and description of the instruments employed. To the left of the centre compartment we may find a viol, a rebec, a clarion, trumpets, harp, cither, double flute, and psaltery – also a tambourine, beaten with the hand, a tabor, and a portable organ. In the centre, under Christ, are two organs. The player on the pipe and tabor, left of the Redeemer, blows what seems to be a short French whistle. "Next to this musician is a cymbal player. The time beater is apparently no less required where time exists no more than he is in our terrestrial world; such discipline of rhythm is hereby sanctified." "In the upper rows, on the left hand of the Redeemer, we see one of those large guitar-viols which were used by the troubadours" (see further The Hobby Horse, No. 1, 1893, pp. 14-16).

160

"The many small figures which are seen here surrounded by a celestial glory are so beautiful," says Vasari of this picture, "that they appear to be truly beings of paradise; nor can he who approaches them be ever weary of regarding their beauty."

161

Now ascribed by many critics to Bouts (see 783).

162

Or more correctly, Piero dei' Franceschi, after the family name of his mother. Her Christian name was Romana, and Piero's father, it has now been ascertained, continued living during many years of his son's career. The year of Piero's birth is unknown.