The Venetian School of Painting Part 11

Lotto was now an accepted member of t.i.tian's set, and Aretino, in a letter dated 1548, writes that t.i.tian values his taste and judgment as that of no other; but Aretino, with his usual mixture of connoisseurs.h.i.+p and clever spite, goes on to insinuate accidentally, as it were, what he himself knew perfectly well, that Lotto was not considered on a par with the masters of the first rank. "Envy is not in your breast," he says, "rather do you delight to see in other artists certain qualities which you do not find in your own brush, ... holding the second place in the art of painting is nothing compared to holding the first place in the duties of religion."

An interesting codex or commentary tells us that Lotto never received high prices for his work, and we hear of him hawking pictures about in artistic circles, putting them up in raffles, and leaving a number with Jacopo Sansovino in the hope that he might hear of buyers. His work ended as it had begun, in the Marches. He undertook commissions at Recanati, Ancona, and Loreto, and in September 1554 he concluded a contract with the Holy House at Loreto, by which, in return for rooms and food, he made over himself and all his belongings to the care of the fraternity, "being tired of wandering, and wis.h.i.+ng to end his days in that holy place." He spent the last four years of his life at Loreto as a votary of the Virgin, painting a series of pictures which are distinguished by the same sort of apparent looseness and carelessness which we noticed in t.i.tian's late style; a technique which, as in t.i.tian's case, conceals a profound knowledge of plastic modelling.

Though Lotto executed an immense number of important and very beautiful sacred works, his portraits stand apart, and are so interesting to the modern mind that one is tempted to linger over them. Other painters give us finer pictures; in none do we feel so anxious to know who the sitters were and what was their story. Lotto has nothing of the Pagan quality which marks Giorgione and t.i.tian; he is a born psychologist, and as such he witnesses to an att.i.tude of mind in the Italy of his day which is of peculiar interest to our own. Lotto's bystanders, even in his sacred scenes, have nothing in common with t.i.tian's "chorus"; they have the characterisation of distinct individuals, and when he is concerned with actual portraits he is intensely receptive and sensitive to the spirit of his sitters. He may be said to "give them away," and to take an almost unfair advantage of his perception. The sick man in the Doria Gallery looks like one stricken with a death sentence. He knows at least that it is touch and go, and the painter has symbolised the situation in the little winged genius balancing himself in a pair of scales. In the Borghese Gallery is the portrait of a young, magnificently dressed man, with a countenance marked by mental agitation, who presses one hand to his heart, while the other rests on a pile of rose-petals in which a tiny skull is half-hidden. The "Old Man" in the Brera has the hard, narrow, but intensely sad face of one whose natural disposition has been embittered by the circ.u.mstances of his life, just as that of our Prothonotary speaks of a large and gentle nature, mellowed by natural affections and happy pursuits. We smile, as Lotto does, with kindly mischief at "Marsilio and his Bride;" the broad, placid countenance of the man is so significantly contrasted with the clever mouth and eyes of the bride that it does not need the malicious glance of the cupid, who is fitting on the yoke, to "dot the i's and cross the t's" of their future. Again, the portrait of Laura di Pola, in the Brera, introduces us to one of those women who are charming in every age, not actually beautiful, but harmonious, thoughtful, perfectly dressed, sensible, and self-possessed, and the "Family Group" in our own gallery holds a history of a couple of antagonistic temperaments united by life in common and the clasping hands of children. Lotto does not keep the personal expression out of even such a canvas as his "Triumph of Chast.i.ty" in the Rospigliosi Gallery. His delightful Venus, one of the loveliest nudes in painting, flies from the attacking termagant, whose virtue is proclaimed by the ermine on her breast, and sweeps her little cupid with her with a well-bred, surprised air, suggestive of the manners of mundane society.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Lorenzo Lotto._ PORTRAIT OF LAURA DI POLA.

_Brera._ (_Photo, Anderson._)]

The painter who was thus able to unveil personality had evidently a mind that was aware of itself, that looked forward to a wider civilisation and a more earnest and intimate religion. His life seems to have been one of some sadness, and crowned with only moderate success. He speaks of himself as "advanced in years, without loving care of any kind, and of a troubled mind." His will shows that his worldly possessions were few and poor, and that he had no heir closer than a nephew; but he leaves some of his cartoons as a dowry to "two girls of quiet nature, healthy in mind and body, and likely to make thrifty housekeepers," on their marriage to "two well-recommended young men," about to become painters. His sensitive and introspective temperament led him to prefer the retirement and the quiet beauty of Loreto to the brilliant society of which he was made free in Venice. "His spirit," says Mr. Berenson, "is more like our own than is perhaps that of any other Italian painter, and it has all the appeal and fascination of a kindred soul in another age."

PRINc.i.p.aL WORKS

_Palma Vecchio._

Bergamo. Lochis: Madonna and Saints (L.).

Cambridge. Fitzwilliam Museum: Venus (L.).

Dresden. Madonna; SS. John, Catherine; Three Sisters; Holy Family; Meeting of Jacob and Rachel (L.).

London. Hampton Court: Santa Conversazione; Portrait of a Poet.

Milan. Brera: SS. Helen, Constantine, Roch, and Sebastian; Adoration of Magi (L.), finished by Cariani.

Naples. Santa Conversazione with Donors.

Paris. Adoration of Shepherds.

Rome. Villa Borghese: Lucrece (L.); Madonna with Saints and Donor.

Capitol: Christ and Woman taken in Adultery.

Palazzo Colonna: Madonna, S. Peter, and Donor.

Venice. Academy: St. Peter enthroned and six Saints; a.s.sumption.

Giovanelli: Sposalizio (L.).

S. Maria Formosa: Altarpiece.

Vienna. Santa Conversazione; Violante (L.); Five Portraits of Women.

_Lorenzo Lotto._

Ancona. a.s.sumption, 1550; Madonna with Saints (L.).

Asolo. Madonna in Glory, 1506.

Bergamo. Carrara: Marriage of S. Catherine; Predelle.

Lochis: Holy Family and S. Catherine; Predelle; Portrait.

S. Bartolommeo: Altarpiece, 1516.

S. Alessandro in Colonna: Pieta.

S. Bernardino: Altarpiece.

S. Spirito: Altarpiece.

Berlin. Christ taking leave of His Mother; Portraits.

Brescia. Nativity.

Cingoli. S. Domenico: Madonna and Saints and fifteen Small Scenes.

Florence. Uffizi: Holy Family.

London. Hampton Court: Portrait of Andrea Odoni, 1527; Portrait (E.); Portraits of Agostino and Niccolo della Torre, 1515; Family Group; Portrait of Prothonotary Giuliano.

Bridgewater House: Madonna and Saints (E.).

Loreto. Palazzo Apostolico: Saints; Nativity; S. Michael and Lucifer (L.); Presentation (L.); Baptism (L.); Adoration of Magi (L.).

Recanati. Municipio: Altarpiece, 1508; Transfiguration (E.).

S. Maria Sopra Mercanti: Annunciation.

Rome. Villa Borghese: Madonna with S. Onofrio and a Bishop, 1508.

Rospigliosi: Love and Chast.i.ty.

Venice. Carmine: S. Nicholas in Glory, 1529.

S. Giacomo dall' Orio: Madonna with Saints, 1546.

SS. Giovanni e Paolo: S. Antonino bestowing Alms, 1542.

Vienna. Santa Conversazione, etc.

CHAPTER XXI

SEBASTIAN DEL PIOMBO

It was very natural that Rome should wish for works of the masters of the new Venetian School, but the first-rate men were fully employed at home. All the efforts made to secure t.i.tian failed till nearly the end of his career. On the other hand, Venice was full of less famous masters following in Giorgione's steps. When Sebastian Luciani was a young man, Giorgione was paramount there, and no one could have foretold that his life would be of such short duration. It was to be expected, therefore, that a painter who consulted his own interests should leave the city where he was overshadowed by a great genius and go farther afield. The influence of the Guilds was withdrawn in the sixteenth century, so that it was a simpler matter for painters to transfer their talents, and painting was beginning to appeal strongly to the _dilettanti_, who rivalled one another in their offers.

Only one work of Sebastian's is known belonging to this earlier time in Venice. It is the "S. Chrysostom enthroned," in S. Giovanni Crisostomo, and its majesty and rich colouring, and more especially the splendid group of women on the left, so proud and soft in their Venetian beauty, make us wonder if Sebastian might not have risen to greater heights if he had remained in his natural environment. He responded to the call to Rome of Agostino Chigi, the great painter, [TN: Chigi was a banker] art collector, and patron, the friend of Leo X. Chigi had just completed the Farnesina Villa, and Sebastian was employed till 1512 on its decoration, and at once came under the influence of Michelangelo. The "Pieta" at Viterbo shows that influence very strongly; in fact, Vasari says that Michelangelo himself drew the cartoon for the figure of Christ, which would account for its extraordinary beauty. Sebastian embarked on a close intimacy with the Florentine painter, and, according to Vasari, the great canvas of the "Raising of Lazarus," in the National Gallery, was executed under the orders and in part from the designs of Michelangelo. This colossal work was looked on as one of the most important creations of the sixteenth century, but there is little to make us wish to change it for the altarpiece of S. Crisostomo.

The desire for scientific drawing and the search after composition have produced a laboured effect; the female figures are cast in a masculine mould, and it lacks both the severe beauty of the Tuscan School and the emotional charm of Sebastian's native style. We cannot, however, avoid conjecturing if in the figure of Lazarus himself we have not a conception of the great Florentine. It is so easy in pose, so splendid in its, perhaps excessive, length of limb, that our thoughts turn involuntarily to the _Ignudi_ in the Sixtine Chapel. The picture has been dulled and injured by repainting, but the distance still has the sombre depth of the Venetians. All through Sebastian's career he seeks for form and composition, but, great painter as he undoubtedly is, he is great because he possesses that inborn feeling for harmony of colour.

This is what we value in him, and he excels in so far as he follows his Venetian instincts.

The death of Raphael improved Sebastian's position in Rome, and though Leo X. never liked or employed him, he did not lack commissions.

The "Fornarina" in the Uffizi, with the laurel-wreathed head and leopard-skin mantle, still reveals him as the Venetian, and it is curious that any critic should ever have a.s.signed its rich, voluptuous tone and its coa.r.s.e type to Raphael. Sebastian obtained commissions for decorating S. Maria del Popolo in oils and S. Pietro in Montorio in fresco, but in the latter medium, though he is ambitious of acquiring the force of Michelangelo, he lacks the Tuscan ease of hand. Colour, for which he possessed so true an apt.i.tude, the deep, fused colour of Giorgione, is set aside by him; his tints become strong and crude, his surfaces grow hard and polished, and he thinks, above all, of bold action, of drawing and modelling. The Venetian genius for portraiture remains, and he has left such fine examples as the "Andrea Doria" of the Vatican, or the "Portrait of a Man in the Pitti," a masterly picture both in drawing and execution, with grand draperies, a fur pelisse, and damask doublet with crimson sleeves. In the National Gallery we possess his own portrait by himself, in company with Cardinal de Medici. The faces are well contrasted, and we judge from Sebastian's that his biographer describes him justly, as fat, indolent, and given to self-indulgence, but genial and fond of good company.

After an absence of twenty years he returned to Venice. There he came in contact with t.i.tian and Pordenone, and struck up a friends.h.i.+p with Aretino, who became his great ally and admirer. The sack of Rome had driven him forth, but in 1529, when the city was beginning partially to recover from that time of horror, he returned, and was cordially welcomed by Clement VII., and admitted into the innermost ecclesiastical circles. The Piombo, a well-paid, sinecure office of the Papal court, was bestowed on him, and his remaining years were spent in Rome. He was very anxious to collaborate with Michelangelo, and the great painter seems to have been quite inclined to the arrangement. The "Last Judgment," in the Sixtine Chapel, was suggested, and Sebastian had the melancholy task of taking down Perugino's masterpieces; but he wished to reset the walls for oils, and Michelangelo stipulated for fresco, saying that oils were only fit for women, so that no agreement was arrived at.

Sebastian's mode of work was slow, and he employed no a.s.sistants. He seems to have been inordinately lazy, fond of leisure and good living, and his character shows in his work, which, with a few exceptions, has something heavy and common about it, a want of keenness and fire, an absence of refinement and selection.

PRINc.i.p.aL WORKS

Florence. Uffizi: Fornarina, 1512; Death of Adonis.

Pitti: Martyrdom of S. Agatha, 1520; Portrait (L.).

London. Resurrection of Lazarus, 1519; Portraits.

Naples. Holy Family; Portraits.

Paris. Visitation, 1521.

Rome. Portrait of Andrea Doria (L.).

Farnesina: Frescoes, 1511.

S. Pietro in Montorio. Frescoes.

Treviso. S. Niccolo: Incredulity of S. Thomas (E.).

Venice. Academy: Visitation (E.).

S. Giovanni Chrisostomo: S. Chrysostom enthroned (E.).

Viterbo. Pieta (L.).

CHAPTER XXII