Chapter XIV: Preface: By John Ruskin (12)

These solemn heads seem to breathe the very spirit of the master; but the history of the painting forbids the supposition that we have here the handiwork, or even the direct influence of Giotto. It is a fragment from one of the wall-paintings in the chapel of St. John the Baptist in the church of S. Maria del Carmine at Florence. The frescoes were not executed till 1350, some years after the death of Giotto. The subject of the composition to which our fragment belongs was the burial of the Baptist. The history of these frescoes is typical of that of many a vicissitude, and recalls the idea suggested in one of Browning's _Dramatic Lyrics_, in which the soul of the painter watches the gradual decay and dispersal of his life's work:--

Wherever a fresco peals and drops,
Wherever an outline weakens and wanes
Till the latest life in the painting stops,
Stands One whom each fainter pulse-tick pains:
One, wishful each scrap should clutch the brick,
Each tinge, not wholly escape the plaster,
--A lion who dies of an ass's kick,
The wronged great soul of an ancient Master.

This and two portions from other paintings of the series, now in the institution at Liverpool, were saved from the fire which destroyed this chapel in 1771, and became the property of Mr. Thomas Patch, the engraver. They were brought to England by Mr. Townley. This fragment was subsequently in the collection of the Right Hon. C. Greville, from whom it passed into the possession of Mr. Rogers, and at the sale of his pictures in 1856 was purchased for the National Gallery. Some other fragments are preserved in the Cappella dell' Ammannati, in the Campo Santo at Pisa, and one is in the town gallery at Pavia.

277. THE GOOD SAMARITAN.

_Bassano_ (Venetian: 1510-1592). _See 173._

The wounded Jew, who had fallen among thieves, is beneath the shadow of a great rock. The Levite is behind, engaged in sanctimonious prayer. The good Samaritan is busy in good works. He has brought out his flask and is raising the Jew to place him on his mule. The picture is of additional interest as having been a favourite with Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom it once belonged, and who is said to have kept it always in his studio. It was afterwards in the collection of Samuel Rogers.

278. THE TRIUMPH OF JULIUS CÆSAR.

_Rubens_ (Flemish: 1577-1640). _See 38._

One of the fruits of Rubens's visit to Italy. This picture was in Rubens's possession at his death, and is described in the inventory as "Three cloathes pasted upon bord, beinge the Triumph of Julius Cæsar, after Andrew Mantegna, not full made." Mantegna's procession (somewhat similar to the Triumph of Scipio, No. 902) was painted for the Duke of Mantua, and is now at Hampton Court.

Any one who cares to see by a single illustration what "classic purity of style" means, should compare Mantegna's original with this transcript by Rubens. "The Flemish painter strives to add richness to the scene by Bacchanalian riot and the sensuality of imperial Rome. His elephants twist their trunks, and trumpet to the din of cymbals; negroes feed the flaming candelabra with scattered frankincense; the white oxen of Clitumnus are loaded with gaudy flowers, and the dancing maidens are dishevelled Mænads. But the rhythmic procession of Mantegna, modulated to the sound of flutes and soft recorders, carries our imagination back to the best days and strength of Rome. His priests and generals, captives and choric women, are as little Greek as they are modern. In them awakes to a new life the spirit-quelling energy of the Republic. The painter's severe taste keeps out of sight the insolence and orgies of the Empire; he conceives Rome as Shakespeare did in _Coriolanus_"[131] (Symonds's _Renaissance_, iii. 200).

279. THE HORRORS OF WAR.

_Rubens_ (Flemish: 1577-1640). _See 38._

"Mars, leaving the temple of Janus[132] open, is held back by Venus, while Europe bewails the inevitable miseries of war; but he is drawn on by the Fury Alecto, who is preceded by Plague and Famine; the figure on the ground with the broken lute represents Concord overthrown. Mars and the two female figures behind him are said to be the portraits of Rubens and his two wives" (Official Catalogue).

This is a sketch of the large picture painted by Rubens in 1637 for his friend Sustermans, and now in the Pitti palace at Genoa. This sketch, with the preceding one, was in the collection of Mr. Rogers, where Ruskin saw it, as recorded in the following extract from his autobiography, in which he describes "a lesson given to me by George Richmond at one of Mr. Rogers's breakfasts (the old man used to ask me, finding me always reverent to him, joyful in his pictures, and sometimes amusing, as an object of curiosity to his guests), date uncertain, but probably in 1842":--

Until that year, Rubens had remained the type of colour power
to me, and Titian's flesh tints of little worth! But that
morning, as I was getting talkative over the wild Rubens's
sketch (War or Discord, or Victory or the Furies, I forget
what), Richmond said, pointing to the Veronese beneath it,
"Why are you not looking at this--so much greater in manner?"
"Greater--how?" I asked, in surprise; "it seems to me quite
tame beside the Rubens." "That may be," said Richmond, "but the
Veronese is true, the other wildly conventional." "In what way
true?" I asked, still not understanding. "Well," said Richmond,
"compare the pure shadows on the flesh in Veronese, and its
clear edge, with Rubens's ochre and vermilion, and outline of
asphalt" (_Praeterita_, ii. 181).

280. THE MADONNA OF THE POMEGRANATE.

_Giovanni Bellini_ (Venetian: 1426-1516). _See 189._

A prophetic sense of the Saviour's sufferings is signified by the symbol of the pomegranate--

Pomegranate, which, if cut deep down the middle,
Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.

MRS. BROWNING: _Lady Geraldine's Courtship_.

Years pass and change; mother and child remain.
Mother so proudly sad, so sadly wise,
With perfect face and wonderful calm eyes,
Full of a mute expectancy of pain:
Child of whose love the mother seems so fain,
Looking far off, as if in other skies
He saw the hill of crucifixion rise,
And knew the horror, and would not refrain.

_Love in Idleness_ (1883).

This picture, which is signed by the painter, probably dates from 1485-88.

281. ST. JEROME READING.

_Marco Basaiti_ (Venetian: painted 1500-1521).

Basaiti--born in Friuli; according to some writers, of Greek
parents--was assistant to Alvise Vivarini. He was one of the
early Venetian painters in oils. His works when well preserved
are (says Sir F. Burton) brilliant in colour, and display
great ability in the general management of the accessories,
especially in the landscape backgrounds, which, according to
Zanetti, he contrived to unite with his figures more skilfully
than his contemporaries.

The scenery, says Gilbert (_Cadore_, p. 42), is that of Serravalle in Titian's country--Serravalle, "the true gate of the hills," with walls and towers rising steeply on the hill-side. The way in which the old masters thus consigned their saints and anchorites to the hill-country is very typical of the mediæval view of landscape. "The idea of retirement from the world for the sake of self-mortification ... gave to all mountain solitude at once a sanctity and a terror, in the mediæval mind, which were altogether different from anything that it had possessed in the un-Christian periods.... Just in so much as it appeared necessary for the noblest men to retire to the hill-recesses before their missions could be accomplished, or their spirit perfected, in so far did the daily world seem by comparison to be pronounced profane and dangerous; and to those who loved that world and its work, the mountains were thus voiceful with perpetual rebuke.... And thousands of hearts, which might otherwise have felt that there was loveliness in the wild landscape, shrank from it in dread, because they knew that the monk retired to it for penance, and the hermit for contemplation" (_Modern Painters_, vol. iii. pt. iv. ch. xiv. § 10).

282. THE GLORIFICATION OF THE VIRGIN.

_Bertucci_ (Umbrian: 16th Century).

Formerly ascribed in the Official Catalogue to Lo Spagna (for
whom see under 1032); by other critics attributed to Giovanni
Battista of Faenza, called Bertucci (the monkey), an artist
who borrowed both from the Umbrian School and from Lorenzo
Costa. The similarity between this picture and No. 629, by the
latter artist, especially in the playing angels at the foot of
the throne, is remarkable (see Richter's _Italian Art in the
National Gallery_, p. 52). Works by Bertucci are to be seen in
the picture gallery of Faenza.

The little angels are very pretty. Notice the three peering out from under the Virgin's robe. On the marble platform below one angel plays a white-headed pipe; the other, a six-stringed rebec, which is very accurately represented.

283. VIRGIN AND CHILD ENTHRONED.

_Benozzo Gozzoli_ (Florentine: 1420-1498).

Benozzo Gozzoli was the favourite pupil of the "angelical
painter," Fra Angelico. From him Benozzo borrowed the devotion
in his pictures, the bent of his own mind being altogether
different. It must be remembered that "in nearly all the great
periods of art the choice of subject has not been left to the
painter; ... and his own personal feelings are ascertainable
only by watching, in the themes assigned to him, what are
the points in which he seems to take most pleasure. Thus in
the prolonged ranges of varied subjects with which Benozzo
Gozzoli decorated the cloisters of Pisa, it is easy to see
that love of simple domestic incident, sweet landscape, and
glittering ornament, prevails slightly over the solemn elements
of religious feeling, which, nevertheless, the spirit of the
age instilled into him in such measure as to form a very lovely
and noble mind, though still one of the second order" (_Modern
Painters_, vol. iii. pt. iv. ch. iii. § 8). The earlier works
of Benozzo are entirely in Fra Angelico's manner. His later
style (of which an example may be seen in No. 591) presents
the greatest contrast to that master; for Benozzo is "the
first of all the Florentine painters who seem to have been
smitten with the beauty of the natural world and its various
appearances. His later pictures overflow with the delighted
sense of this beauty. He was the first to create rich landscape
backgrounds, with cities, villas, and trees, rivers, and
richly-cultivated valleys, bold rocks and hills. He displays
the richest fancy for architectural forms,--open porticoes,
elegant arcades, and balconies. In the representation of the
human figure, we find gaiety and whim, feeling and dignity, in
the happiest combination" (Layard). Like other painters of the
time Benozzo began his career as a worker in metal, and his
name is found amongst the artificers who assisted Ghiberti in
making the celebrated gates for the Baptistery at Florence.
He next entered the school of Fra Angelico, accompanying his
master to Rome and Orvieto. In 1459 he was employed to decorate
the walls of the small chapel in the Medici, now Riccardi
Palace, and here he first gave rein to his own fancies. Copies
from these frescoes are included in the Arundel Society's
collection, as well as from those in the church of S. Agostino
at S. Gimignano, where Benozzo was next employed. The chief
work of his life was, however, the painting of the Campo Santo
at Pisa. This occupied him from 1469-1485. Twenty-one of the
frescoes were by his own hand. They are much injured; for
"when any dignitary of Pisa was to be buried, they peeled off
some Benozzo Gozzoli and put up a nice new tablet to the new
defunct" (_Praeterita_, vol. ii. ch. vi., where Ruskin gives
a charming account of happy days spent in copying Benozzo's
work). These frescoes are remarkable for their wealth of fancy
and picturesque detail. The Pisans themselves were so well
pleased that they presented the painter in 1478 with a tomb,
that his body might repose amidst the great works of his life.
He died at Pisa twenty years later.

This was a picture painted very much to order. The figure of the Virgin was specially directed--so it appears from the original contract, dated 1461, still in existence--to be made similar in mode, form, and ornaments to one by Fra Angelico, now in the Florentine Academy, and it was also stipulated that "the said Benozzo shall at his own cost diligently gild the said panel throughout, both as regards figures and ornaments." The prices paid for such commissions in those days may be judged from the fact that in the case of his great frescoes at Pisa, Benozzo contracted to paint three a year for 10 ducats each (= say £100). As for Benozzo's own personal feelings, it is easy to see with what pleasure he put in the pretty flowers in the foreground for St. Francis, and the sweet-faced angels behind the throne, and with what gusto he shot the gold in their draperies. The figure on our extreme left is St. Zenobius. His embroidered cope is very rich. The details of needlework in the picture will well repay careful study. Compared with all this, the kneeling St. Jerome and St. Francis and the other saints appear somewhat perfunctory. Notice, too, the bright goldfinches on the alabaster steps, introduced, we may suppose, in honour of

Sweet St. Francis of Assisi, would that he were here again!
He that in his Catholic wholeness used to call the very flowers
Sisters, brothers--and the beasts--whose pains are hardly less
than ours!

284. MADONNA AND CHILD.

_Bartolommeo Vivarini_ (Venetian: painted 1450-1499).

Bartolommeo Vivarini of Murano was the younger brother of
Antonio (see 768), with whom he began to work in partnership in
1450--as is shown by the inscription on the great altar-piece
by the two brothers, now in the Pinacoteca of Bologna.
Bartolommeo appears to have studied at Padua, and the influence
of Squarcione is manifest in the painter's striving after
correctness of form. "The ornate character of his altar-pieces,
with gold heightening, garlands of fruit and flowers and
fluttering fillets, is also borrowed from the Paduans, and
lends festal pomp and solemnity to the whole."

Of Bartolommeo Vivarini it is recorded that he painted (in 1473) the first oil picture that was exhibited in Venice. This one, however, is in tempera. "The figures in Bartolommeo's pictures are still hard in outline,--thin (except the Madonna's throat, which always in Venice, is strong as a pillar), and much marked in sinew and bone (studied from life, mind you, not by dissection); exquisitely delicate and careful in pure colour;--in character portraits of holy men and women, such as then were. There is no idealism here whatever. Monks and nuns had indeed faces and mien like these saints, when they desired to have the saints painted for them" (_Guide to the Venetian Academy_, p. 6).

285. MADONNA AND CHILD.

_Francesco Morone_ (Veronese: 1473-1529).

Francesco is one of the best masters in the earlier style of
the Veronese School. He was the son of Domenico Morone (1211),
the friend and fellow-worker of Girolamo dai Libri (748) and
the master of Morando (735). His works are rarely to be seen
out of Verona, but the present picture is characteristic. At
Verona, his best work in fresco is to be seen in the decoration
of the sacristry of S. Maria in Organo, described by Vasari.
Among his altar-pieces, one in the same church and another
in S. Bernardino are specially noteworthy. "There is," says
Sir F. Burton, "something peculiarly winning in the type
chosen for the Madonna by this painter. The small, round,
delicately-featured head, slightly thrown back, so that the
eyes are cast down towards the worshipper, conveys a mingled
impression of sweetness and dignity. The finish of his easel
pictures is remarkable; the eye is delighted by the intricate
variegation of costly stuffs, where numerous tints broken
together resemble what nature has wrought on the wings of some
moths and butterflies. Such broken surfaces give additional
value to the masses of whole colour where these more sparingly
appear." "That the artist himself was of a harmless, lovable
nature is evident from his will which we still possess, and
Vasari's judgment is to the same effect when he calls him 'so
good a man, so religious and so orderly that no word which
was not a praiseworthy one was ever known to proceed from his
mouth'" (Richter). Vasari adds that he was "buried in the
church of San Domenico beside his father, and was borne to his
grave clothed as he had desired to be, in the vestments of a
monk of San Francesco."

"A youthful production, in which glowing colour, delicately balanced, is combined with fine drawing and powerful modelling. Characteristic are the regular oval of the Madonna's head and the look of simplicity and charm which breathes in the features" (Dr. Richter in _Art Journal_, Feb. 1895).

286. VIRGIN AND CHILD.

_Francesco Tacconi_ (Cremonese: painted 1464-1490).

The only signed picture by this painter still in existence. He
was a native of Cremona and worked there: he and his brother
pleased the Cremonese so much by painting in the Town Hall that
the artists were given an exemption from taxes. But he may
be classed as a Venetian, for he was an imitator of Giovanni
Bellini. This picture at once recalls Bellini's No. 280, and is
in fact a copy of a Madonna by that painter in the Chiesa degli
Scalzi at Venice.

287. LUDOVICO MARTINENGO.

_Bartolommeo Veneziano_ (painted 1505-1530).

The Martinengo family seems to have patronised this painter,
as the Senator Count Martinengo, of Venice, possesses as
an heirloom a small picture by the master which is signed
"Bartolommeo mezzo Veneziano e mezzo Cremonese." The present
picture (dated 1530) is signed "Bartolom. Venetus," so that he
was perhaps a Cremonese by birth and a Venetian by artistic
training, being probably a pupil of Giovanni Bellini (see
Morelli's _Italian Works in German Galleries_, p. 138).

A portrait of a young man, at the age of twenty-six (as the inscription tells us), in the costume of the Campagnia della Calza (the guild of the stocking).

288. THE VIRGIN AND CHILD, MICHAEL AND RAPHAEL.

_Pietro Perugino_[133] (Umbrian: 1446-1523).

Pietro Vannucci, a native of Castello della Pieve, was
called Perugino, from the town of which he afterwards became
a citizen. His earliest master was probably Fiorenzo di
Lorenzo, and he is known to have also worked under Piero
della Francesca. Afterwards he went to Florence, where,
it is said, he studied with Leonardo da Vinci under the
sculptor Verrocchio. There is, however, no trace of any such
discipleship in his works, which, on the contrary, show an
untouched development of native Umbrian art, so that Perugino
becomes the typical representative of what Ruskin calls the
"purist ideal." It is probable that his first visit to Florence
was not paid till he was already established in independent
practice. "He there remained," says Vasari, "for many months
without even a bed to lie on, and miserably took his sleep
upon a chest; but, turning night into day, and labouring
without intermission, he devoted himself most fervently to
the study of his profession." And in time he became himself a
famous master, with Raphael for his pupil, and "he attained
to such a height of reputation that his works were dispersed,
not only through Florence and all over Italy, but in France,
Spain, and other countries." He was himself too of a roving
disposition, and he multiplied his engagements beyond his
power of fulfilling them. In 1475 he received his first public
commission at Perugia, but the frescoes then painted for the
Palazzo Communale have perished. In 1480 he was employed by
the Pope Sixtus IV., together with Signorelli and Botticelli,
to cover the walls of the Sixtine Chapel with frescoes. Of the
four allotted to Perugino (which occupied him in part for six
years) three were afterwards destroyed to make room for Michael
Angelo's "Last Judgment"; the fourth, the "Delivery of the
Keys to St. Peter," remains. Perugino's subsequent movements
are not easy to follow,[134] and we can only here allude to
some of his most famous works. In 1494 he was at Venice, and
in the same year painted his very beautiful altar-piece in
S. Agostino at Cremona. In 1495 he contracted to paint for
the monks of Cassino the noble Assumption now at Lyons. In
1496 he painted for the Cathedral of Perugia, the famous
"Sposalizio," now at Caen. To the same period in his career
belongs the picture now before us, painted for the Certosa
of Pavia. Down to about 1493, Perugino's easel pictures were
executed in _tempera_ (see 181); he then adopted the new oil
medium, which he used to such splendid effect in richness of
colour. In 1499 he was at Perugia, engaged upon the beautiful
frescoes in the Hall of the Bankers (Collegio del Cambio). He
was afterwards in Florence, but in 1505 returned to Perugia,
where in 1507 he painted the altar-piece, No. 1075 in our
gallery. In his later years he erected a large studio in which
several scholars were employed to execute commissions from
his designs, and the works of this period show considerable
inequality of execution, as well as repetition of design,
and some falling off in richness of colouring. According to
Vasari's gossip Perugino was very careful of his money--as one
who had seen such hard times might well be; would only paint
for cash down, and on all his wanderings carried his money box
with him. "When it is fair weather," he used to say, "a man
must build his house, that he may be under shelter when he most
needs it." It was not, however, till middle life that he did
literally build himself a house. At the same time he married a
very beautiful girl, and is said to have had so much pleasure
in seeing her wear becoming head-dresses that he would spend
hours together in arranging that part of her toilet with his
own hands. There is a tradition that she was the model for the
angel who accompanies Tobias in our picture. The master was
still painting in his 77th year, and was engaged on a fresco
at Frontignano (now in this gallery, No. 1441), when he was
carried off by the plague. The most famous of his pupils was
Raphael; among the rest, the most accomplished were Giovanni lo
Spagna (1032), and Giannicola Manni (1194).

Perugino's work is well represented in the National Gallery,
and its several characteristics are pointed out under the
pictures themselves (_cf._ especially 181 and 1075). He was,
as we have said, the typical representative of the purist
ideal. His technical supremacy set the seal of perfection upon
pietistic art, and the masterpiece before us is unique for
its combination of warmth of colour, with the expression of
religious fervour. "What this artist seems to have aimed at,
was to create for the soul, amid the pomps and passions of this
world, a resting-place of contemplation tenanted by saintly and
seraphic beings." Of his life as reflected in his work, Ruskin
gives this summary: "A sound craftsman and workman to the very
heart's core. A noble, gracious, and quiet labourer from youth
to death,--never weary, never impatient, never untender, never
untrue. Not Tintoret in power, not Raphael in flexibility,
not Holbein in veracity, not Luini in love,--their gathered
gifts he has, in balanced and fruitful measure, fit to be the
guide, and impulse, and father of all" (_Ariadne Florentina_,
§ 72). But Perugino, like the times in which he lived,
presents a study in contradictions. This idealist painted his
portrait in the Sala del Cambio; it is an unsurpassed piece of
realism, and the hard, unsympathetic features do not belie,
but rather win credence for Vasari's tales about his sordid
soul. He never deviated in his art from the pietistic path he
had chosen; but according to Vasari[135] (whose statements
on this point are supported by some other evidence), he was
himself an unbeliever, and on his death-bed rejected the last
sacraments. In his art he is essentially a quietist. He is not
successful when he represents action or movement. His ideal is
of quiet rapture, and sacred peace. But the criminal records
of Florence prove that he was not over-scrupulous to keep
his hands from violence, and in the civil courts he pursued
Michael Angelo with equal indiscretion and ill-success for
defamation of character. His pictures reflect the landscape,
but not the fortunes, of his native country: that the quietism
of Perugino "should have been fashionable in Perugia, while
the Baglioni were tearing each other to pieces, and the troops
of the Vitelli and the Borgia were trampling upon Umbria, is
one of the most striking paradoxes of an age rich in dramatic
contradictions" (Symonds's _Renaissance_, iii. 218).

One of the most valuable pictures in the Gallery alike for its own beauty and for its interest in the history of art. For Perugino is the final representative of the old superstitious art, just as Michael Angelo and Raphael (in his later manners) were the first representatives of the modern scientific and anatomical art; the epithet bestowed on Perugino by Michael Angelo, _goffo nell' arte_ (dunce, or blockhead, in art), shows how trenchant the separation is between these two forms of artists. One may notice, then, in this picture as a perfect example of the earlier art: First, that everything in it is dainty and delightful, and all that it attempts is accomplished. Michael Angelo, dashing off his impetuous thoughts, left much of his work half done (see 790); Perugino worked steadily in the old ways and indeed repeated ideas with so little reflection that, according to Vasari, he was blamed for doing the same thing over and over again. But everything is finished, even to the gilding of single hairs. Notice also the beautiful painting of the fish.[136] Secondly, it is a work in the school of colour, as distinguished from the school of light and shade. "Clear, calm, placid, perpetual vision, far and near; endless perspicuity of space, unfatigued veracity of eternal light, perfectly accurate delineation of every leaf on the trees and every flower in the fields" (notice especially in the foreground the "blue flower fit for paradise" of the central compartment). "There is no darkness, no wrong. Every colour is lovely, and every space is light. The world, the universe, is divine; all sadness is a part of harmony; and all gloom a part of peace." In connection with the lovely blue in the picture (which was painted in 1494-98 for the Certosa of Pavia), one may remember the story told of an earlier picture, how the prior of the convent for which Perugino was painting doled out to him the costly colour of ultramarine, and how Perugino, by constantly washing his brushes, obtained a surreptitious hoard of the colour, which he ultimately restored to shame the prior for his suspicions. Thirdly, in its rendering of landscape, the picture is characteristic of the "purism" of older art as compared with the later "naturalism." "The religious painters impress on their landscape perfect symmetry and order, such as may seem, consistent with the spiritual nature they would represent. The trees grow straight, equally branched on each side, and of slight and feathery frame. The mountains stand up unscathed; the waters are always waveless, the skies always calm."[137] Notice also that the sentiment of the whole picture is like its landscape; there is no striving, nor crying, no convulsive action; it is all one "pure passage of intense feeling and heavenly light, holy and undefiled, glorious with the changeless passion of eternity--sanctified with shadeless peace." Notice lastly, how in this, as in many sacred compositions, "a living symmetry, the balance of harmonious opposites, is one of the profoundest sources of their power. The Madonna of Perugino in the National Gallery, with the angel Michael on one side and Raphael on the other, is as beautiful an example as you can have" (_Elements of Drawing_, p. 258). The subject of the right-hand compartment is Raphael and Tobias (for which see 781); that of the left-hand one is "the orderer of Christian warfare, Michael the Archangel; not Milton's 'with hostile brow and visage all inflamed'; not even Milton's in kingly treading of the hills of Paradise; not Raphael's with expanded wings and brandished spear; but Perugino's with his triple crest of traceless plume unshaken in heaven, his hand fallen on his crossleted sword, the truth-girdle binding his undinted armour; God has put his power upon him, resistless radiance is on his limbs; no lines are there of earthly strength, no trace on the divine features of earthly anger; trustful and thoughtful, fearless, but full of love, incapable except of the repose of eternal conquest, vessel and instrument of Omnipotence, filled like a cloud with the victor light, the dust of principalities and powers beneath his feet, the murmur of hell against him heard by his spiritual ear like the winding of a shell on the far-off sea-shore." He is thus armed as the orderer of Christian warfare against evil; in his other character, as lord of souls, he has the scales which hang on a tree by his side (_Ariadne Florentina_, pp. 40, 265, 266; _On the Old Road_, i. § 529; _Modern Painters_, vol. ii. pt. iii. sec. i. ch. x. § 4; sec. ii. ch. v. § 20.)

289. "THE NIGHT WATCH."

_Gerrit Lundens_ (Dutch: 1622-1677).

This is a copy, on a greatly reduced scale, of the famous picture by Rembrandt (painted in 1642), now in the State-Museum at Amsterdam. It is of interest as showing the pristine condition of its great original, which in the earlier part of the eighteenth century was maltreated on all four sides, and thereby shorn of some of its figures in order to suit the dimensions of a room to which it was at that time removed. The picture had so darkened by time or neglect, that it came to be called "The Night Watch." The real subject is the march out of a company of the Amsterdam Musketeers from their Headquarters' Hall, under the command of their captain, Frans Banning Cocq, who is seen advancing in the centre and giving orders to his lieutenant. The principal figures are all portraits, and the names were written on the back of the picture. Our copy was painted for Cocq himself, and after many vicissitudes reached England at the beginning of the nineteenth century.

290. A MAN'S PORTRAIT (dated 1432).

_Jan van Eyck_ (Early Flemish: about 1390-1440). _See 186._

A portrait of a friend of the artist, for it is inscribed "Leal Souvenir"--and a true recollection it obviously is, and was the more acceptable, one likes to think, for being so. "It is not the untrue imaginary Picture of a man and his work that I want, ... but the actual natural Likeness, true as the face itself, nay, _truer_ in a sense, Which the Artist, if there is one, might help to give, and the Botcher never can" (Carlyle, _Friedrich_).

291. PORTRAIT OF A GIRL.

_Lucas Cranach_ (German: 1472-1553).

Lucas Sunder (or possibly Müller), called Cranach from
his native place, was one of the chief of the German
painters,--after Dürer, the most famous artist of his day.
He was the close friend of Martin Luther, whose features
he several times represented. He may indeed be called the
painter of the German Reformation, and in his later works
the reformed doctrines receive symbolical illustration. The
influences of the Renaissance were also at work in his art,
as may be seen in his classical subjects. He was fond also
of drawing birds and animals, and he often depicted hunting
scenes. These he rendered with a realism of effect which won
the admiration of his princely employers. It was, however, as a
portrait-painter that he was chiefly employed. His engravings
were also very numerous. In the lower left-hand corner of the
picture before us, a crowned serpent will be noticed. This
was the arms granted to him in 1508 by the Elector of Saxony,
and it superseded his initials on all his pictures after that
date. Of Cranach's earlier years, little is known. In 1504 he
was established at Wittenburg as court-painter to Frederick
the Wise, a post which he occupied under the next two Electors
as well. He was a man of importance at Wittenburg, for he was
twice mayor of the town, and carried on there, besides large
art workshops, a book-printing business and an apothecary's
shop. He was also employed in diplomatic missions, and when the
Elector Frederick the Magnanimous was in captivity at Augsburg,
Cranach was instrumental in procuring his release from the
Emperor Charles V., whose portrait had in earlier years been
taken by our painter.

"His female portraits have a sort of naïve grace that renders them very pleasing. There is one in the National Gallery, of a young girl in elaborate costume, which is entirely characteristic" (Bryan's _Dictionary of Painters_).

292. MARTYRDOM OF ST. SEBASTIAN.

_Antonio Pollajuolo_ (Florentine: 1429-1498).

This picture is expressly ascribed by Vasari to Antonio alone.
On the other hand, Albertini, an earlier authority (1510),
ascribes it to Piero, the younger brother of Antonio. It is
known that many pictures were the joint production of both
brothers--Antonio furnishing the design, and Piero putting it
into colour. "In the 'St. Sebastian,'" says Sir F. Burton, "we
probably have a work so produced; the severe and strenuous
drawing of the elder brother, the sculptor and _toreuta_ by
profession, is visible throughout; whether he shared in the
painting, and if he did, to what extent, may remain an open
question."

Antonio Pollajuolo (the "poulterer,"--so called from his
grandfather's trade) is an interesting man from two points of
view: first, as an instance of the union of the arts in old
times; for he was a working goldsmith and engraver as well as
a sculptor and painter. He took to painting comparatively late
in life, desiring, says Vasari, "for his labour a more enduring
memory" than belongs to works of the goldsmith's art; "and his
brother Piero being a painter, he joined himself to him for
the purpose of learning the modes of proceeding in painting.
He acquired a knowledge in the course of a few months and
became an excellent master." He became, indeed, an excellent
draughtsman, but "neither harmony of colours nor grace was
the strong point of this master" (Morelli's _Italian Masters
in German Galleries_, p. 351). In 1484 Antonio was invited
to Rome by Pope Innocent VIII., and executed some important
monumental works in St. Peter's. His brother died in 1496;
Antonio, two years later. The two brothers were buried in S.
Pietro in Vincoli, where busts of them may be seen. Antonio
is interesting, in the second place, for the developments he
introduced into Italian painting. He was one of the first of
the Florentines to adopt an oil medium, and the first (says
Vasari) who had recourse to the dissection of the dead subject.
To him, therefore, Ruskin attributes a baleful influence. "The
virtual beginner of artistic anatomy in Italy was a man called
'the poulterer'--Pollajuolo, a man of immense power, but on
whom the curse of the Italian mind in this age was set at its
deepest. See the horrible picture of St. Sebastian by him in
our National Gallery." He was the beginner of those anatomical
studies, continues Ruskin, which, pursued and established
by later masters, "polluted their work with the science of
the sepulchre, and degraded it with presumptuous and paltry
technical skill. Foreshorten your Christ, and paint Him, if
you can, half-putrefied--that is the scientific art of the
Renaissance" (_Ariadne Florentina_, Appendix IV.).

How popular this "scientific art" was in its day may be seen from the following enthusiastic account which Vasari gives of this picture:--

A remarkable and admirably executed work, with numerous
horses, many undraped figures, and singularly beautiful
foreshortenings. This picture likewise contains the portrait
of St. Sebastian himself, taken from the life--from the face
of Gino di Ludovico Capponi, that is. The painting has been
more extolled than any other ever executed by Antonio. He has
evidently copied nature in this work to the utmost of his
power, as we perceive more particularly in one of the archers,
who, bending towards the earth, and resting his weapon against
his breast, is employing all the force of a strong arm to
prepare it for action; the veins are swelling, the muscles
strained, and the man holds his breath as he applies all his
strength to the effort. Nor is this the only figure executed
with care; all the others are likewise well done, and in the
diversity of their attitudes give clear proof of the artist's
ability and of the labour bestowed by him on his work; all
which was fully acknowledged by Antonio Pucci, who gave him
three hundred scudi for the picture, declaring at the same time
that he was barely paying him for the colours. This work was
completed in the year 1475.

The dominant motive in the picture is, it will be seen, interest in the mechanism of the human body; notice especially the muscles of the executioners' legs and their efforts in stretching their bows. There are, however, other points worthy of notice. "The work is not less remarkable for the extent and variety of the landscape, and for the sense of aerial, as distinct from mere linear, perspective. Instead of standing up like a wall behind the figures it appears to recede to the horizon, as in nature. The study of the remains of classical art also is betrayed by the introduction of one of the Roman monumental arches in the background. The groups of soldiers and horses introduced at different distances further attest the variety of the designers' interests" (Monkhouse: _In the National Gallery_, 1894, p. 77).

293. VIRGIN AND CHILD: STS. JEROME AND DOMINIC.

_Filippino Lippi_ (Florentine: 1457-1504).

Filippo Lippi, the younger (called "Filippino" to distinguish
him from his father), was the son of Fra Filippo Lippi (see
666), and the nun, Lucrezia Buti. In his will, Filippino left
an annual provision of corn, wine, oil, and other necessaries
to his beloved mother Lucrezia, daughter of Francesco Buti.
There is perhaps no other case in art-history of father and son
attaining such nearly equal excellence as did the two Lippis.
Owing to his father's death when Filippino was still a boy,
the latter became the pupil of Botticelli, and so good a pupil
was he that the critics are often in doubt, as explained in
the footnote, to which master to ascribe pictures.[138] The
genius of Filippino seems to have been the more gentle, that of
Botticelli the more impetuous. The grace and charm of Filippino
are nowhere better shown than in the "Vision of St. Bernard,"
in the church of the Badia at Florence--a work executed when
he was about 23. A copy of it is in the Arundel Society's
collection. The pictures in our Gallery which are indubitably
by Filippino (namely, this picture and 927), show the same
quiet beauty. Filippino was also employed upon important
frescoes--in the Branacci Chapel, in Sta Maria Novella, and (at
Rome) in Sta Maria Sopra Minerva; in these works he shows great
skill in composition, appropriate action, and refined feeling.
Filippino lived a busy and a blameless life; and the peace and
beauty of his pictures were a reflection of his character.
"Having been ever courteous, obliging, and friendly, Filippino
was lamented," says Vasari, "by all who had known him, but more
particularly by the youth of Florence, his native city; and
when his funeral procession was passing through the streets,
the shops were closed, as is done for the most part at the
funerals of princes only."

This picture is identified by the arms of the Rucellai family below, as the one described by Vasari as "executed in the church of San Pancrazio for the chapel of the Rucellai family." After the suppression of the church, it was removed to the Palazzo Rucellai until it was purchased for the National Gallery.

294. THE FAMILY OF DARIUS.

_Paolo Veronese_ (Veronese: 1528-1588). _See 260._

This picture--"the most precious Paul Veronese," says Ruskin, "in the world"--is, according to another critic, "in itself a school of art, where every quality of the master is seen in perfection--his stately male figures, his beautiful women, his noble dog, and even his favourite monkey, his splendid architecture, gem-like colour, tones of gold and silver, sparkling and crisp touch, marvellous facility of hand and unrivalled power of composition."[139] The glowing colour is what strikes one first; and next the dignity, life, and ease of the principal persons represented. It is a splendid example too of what the historical pictures of the old masters were. The scene represented is that of the Macedonian conqueror, Alexander the Great, surrounded by his generals, receiving the submission of the family of the defeated Persian King Darius; but in his treatment of the scene, Veronese makes it a piece of contemporary Venetian life.

"It is a constant law that the greatest men, whether poets or
historians, live entirely in their own age.... Dante paints
Italy in the thirteenth century; Chaucer, England in the
fourteenth; Masaccio, Florence in the fifteenth; Tintoret,
Venice in the sixteenth;--all of them utterly regardless
of anachronism and minor error of every kind, but getting
always vital truth out of the vital present.... Tintoret and
Shakespeare paint, both of them, simply Venetian and English
nature as they saw it in their time, down to the root; and it
does for _all_ time; but as for any care to cast themselves
into the particular ways and tones of thought or custom of past
time in their historical work, you will find it in neither of
them, nor in any other perfectly great man that I know of"
(_Modern Painters_, vol. iii. pt. iv. ch. vii. §§ 19, 20).

Thus here Veronese simply paints a group of living Venetians of his time,[140] dog,[141] monkey and all. Alexander, in red armour, is pointing to his friend Hephaestion, who stands a little behind on his left, and whom the captives had at first mistaken for the king. The queen-mother implores his pardon, but Alexander tells her that she has not erred, for that Hephaestion is another Alexander. The principal figures representing these different characters are, however, all contemporary portraits of the Pisani family,[142] it is said, for whom the picture was painted, and in choosing this scene of Alexander in one of his best moments Veronese was expressing his ideal of Venetian nobility and refinement. "The greatest portrait painters," says Ruskin,--"Titian, Veronese, Velazquez, and Raphael,--introduce the most trenchant, clear, and complete backgrounds. Indeed, the first three so rejoiced in quantity of accessories, that, when engaged on important portraits, they would paint large historical pictures merely by way of illustration or introduction. The priceless Veronese, 'The Triumph of Alexander,' was painted only to introduce portraits of the Pisani; and chiefly to set off to the best advantage the face of one fair girl" (_Academy Notes_, 1857, p. 37). So too the dresses to which the picture owes so much of its splendour, are the Venetian dresses of the period. It may be interesting to remark that something of the magnificence in the picture itself attaches also to the circumstances of its painting. Veronese having been detained by some accident at the Pisani Villa at Este, painted this work there, and left it behind him, sending word that he had left wherewithal to defray the expense of his entertainment. As the Pisani family ultimately sold it to the National Gallery in 1857 for £13,650, Veronese's words were decidedly made good. It may be interesting to add that the negotiations for its purchase extended over nearly four years. Vast sums had been offered for the picture in former centuries, and within the previous thirty years sovereigns, public bodies, and individuals had all been competing for it.

Some of the fame of the picture is due to its splendid preservation. Rumohr speaks of it as "perhaps the only existing criterion by which to estimate the original colouring of Paul Veronese." "The lakes, for instance, in the crimson cuirass and dress of Alexander, which form such a magnificent feature in the composition, are," says Sir Edward Poynter, "as fresh as when first painted, as, indeed, is the whole picture." James Smetham, in one of his eloquent letters, refers to this work in 1858, in illustration of the enduring qualities of a painter's "flying touches"--touches "destined to live in hours and moments when _you_ have fled beyond all moments into the unembarrassed calm of eternity":--

Paul Veronese, three hundred years ago, painted that bright
Alexander, with his handsome, flushed Venetian face, and that
glowing uniform of the Venetian general which he wears; and
before him, on their knees, he set those golden ladies, who are
pleading in pink and violet; and there he is, and there are
they, in our National Gallery; he, flushed and handsome--they,
golden and suppliant as ever. It takes an oldish man to
remember the comet of 1811. Who remembers Paul Veronese, nine
generations since? But not a tint of his thoughts is unfixed,
they beam along the walls as fresh as ever. Saint Nicholas
stoops to the Angelic Coronation (26), and the solemn fiddling
of the Marriage at Cana is heard along the silent galleries of
the Louvre. ("Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are
sweeter")--yes, and will be so when you and I have cleaned our
last palette, and "in the darkness over us, the four-handed
mole shall scrape."

205. OUR SAVIOUR AND THE VIRGIN.

_Quentin Metsys_ (Flemish: 1460-1530).

Metsys--whose name appears also in the forms Matsys, Massys,
and Messys--was the first of the great Antwerp painters and
the last who remained faithful to the traditions of the early
Flemish school. The gold background here recalls the earliest
Flemish pictures in the Gallery. "He retained," says Sir F.
Burton, "the technical method introduced by the Van Eycks, but
with a softer and broader handling, and with a wonderfully
subtle modelling which gave perfect relief and rounding
without dark shadows." Among the most important monuments of
his skill are the large altar-pieces in the public galleries of
Brussels and Antwerp respectively. There are in other galleries
pictures similar to the two figures here before us. Metsys was
also fond of depicting merchants or money-changers counting
their gains--a subject imitated by Marinus van Romerswael
(see 944). Metsys was a native of Antwerp, and a person of
consequence in his native town. A romantic legend was formerly
associated with his name. He was, it is said, a locksmith, but
became a painter to obtain the consent of his wife's father
to his marriage. Hence the inscription--_connubalis amor de
mulcibre fecit Apellem_. But this story, it now appears,
belongs to another Metsys, of Louvain. Our painter was twice
married. Portraits of himself and his second wife are in the
Uffizi at Florence.

These figures are remarkable for their serenity and dignity. Characteristic also is the care lavished on the jewellery and edgings. The figure of our Saviour somewhat resembles the "Salvator Mundi" of Antonella da Messina (673)--the Italian painter who introduced the Flemish influence to his country.

296. THE VIRGIN ADORING THE INFANT CHRIST.

Florentine School (15th Century).
_See also_ (p. xix)

The authorship of this picture and of No. 781, which must
be by the same hand, is one of the unsolved problems of art
criticism. It has at different times been ascribed to Domenico
Ghirlandajo, to Antonio Pollajuolo, to the school of Piero
Pollajuolo, to Verrocchio, and to an unknown master in the
school of the last-mentioned painter. Sir F. Burton said, "If
not by Verrocchio, it must be the work of one of his most
distinguished pupils." Sir Edward Poynter says, "This picture
has all the characteristics of Andrea del Verrocchio's best
work, and is probably by that painter; but the small number of
works that can with certainty be ascribed to him renders the
attribution uncertain." Andrea del Verrocchio (1435-1488) was
the sculptor of the celebrated equestrian statue of Bartolommeo
Colleoni at Venice, than which, says Ruskin, "I do not believe
that there is a more glorious work of sculpture existing in
the world" (_Stones of Venice_, vol. iii. ch. I, § 22). As
a painter Verrocchio was for a time the master of Leonardo
da Vinci, who painted the figure of an angel in Verrocchio's
"Baptism of Christ" (in the Florentine Academy). "This figure,"
says Vasari (ii. 255), "was so much superior to the other parts
of the picture that, perceiving this, Verrocchio resolved
never again to take pencil in hand." Whether this be so or
not, Verrocchio left an enduring mark on the art of his time.
"He delighted to paint the _putto_--the infant boy who is just
beginning to rejoice in the use of his limbs--and with such
a charm did he invest his creations of this kind, whether in
sculpture or in painting, that," says Dr. Meyer, "it is not too
much to say that he was the creator of that child-type which
is so universal in the Italian art of the _Cinque-cento_."
"Verrocchio," says E. Müntz, "is the plastic artist, deeply
enamoured of form, delighting in hollowing it out, in fining it
down; he has none of the literary temperament of a Donatello,
a Mantegna, masters who in order to give expression to the
passions that stir them, to realise their ideal, need a vast
theatre, numerous actors, dramatic subjects. There is no
_mise-en-scène_, no searching after recondite ideas, with
Verrocchio. Most suggestive in spirit, he sowed more than he
reaped, and produced more pupils than masterpieces. All there
is of feminine, one might almost say effeminate, in Leonardo's
art, the delicacy, the _morbidezza_, the suavity, appear,
though often merely in embryo, in the work of Verrocchio"
(_Leonardo da Vinci_, i. 23, 25). The one undoubted picture
by Verrocchio is "The Baptism" above referred to. In the St.
George's Museum at Sheffield there is a "Madonna Adoring"
which has a marked affinity (especially in the Virgin's
expression and attitude, and in her peculiar head-dress) to our
picture. Ruskin, who purchased it in Venice from the Manfrini
collection, ascribed it unhesitatingly to Verrocchio, and
called it "a picture of extreme value, which teaches all I want
my pupils to learn of art." For an excellent reproduction of
it, and for a full discussion both of it and of our picture,
the reader should consult Mr. W. White's _Principles of Art as
illustrated in the Ruskin Museum_ (pp. 62-83). The angel on the
left of this picture resembles the angel in the "Baptism," and
the drawing of a head in the Uffizi at Florence by Verrocchio
is a study for an angel. Dr. Richter, however, thinks the
picture must be ascribed to a pupil of Verrocchio only, for
"the artist of the Colleoni monument could not have been guilty
of the abnormal extension given to the lower part of the
Virgin's body. What should we have to say of the proportions of
this figure if she were to rise from her seat?" (_Italian Art
in the National Gallery_, p. 33). Morelli, on the other hand,
on the strength of various technical details, ascribes the
picture to Pollajuolo (_Italian Masters in German Galleries_,
pp. 353-355).

This picture, whatever may be its authorship, is certainly one of the most beautiful examples of Florentine art in the second half of the fifteenth century. Of a very individual and fascinating type are the faces of the two angels; their sweet and childlike loveliness will haunt the memory of any visitor who has once studied them. Mr. Monkhouse suggests that they may represent some member of the Medici family: "It is at all events evident that the originals of these beautiful children, however elevated by the refinement of the artist, belonged to no common stock. Nor can there be any doubt that this extremely elegant type, dainty to a degree unknown before, has a close affinity to the ideal of Leonardo da Vinci." The angels' hands in our picture are also very beautiful, though there is a touch of awkward affectation in the disjointed bend of the little finger in the angel on the left. The spectator will notice further the beautiful embroidery, and the jewelled brooches worn both by this angel and by the Madonna. The child holds a raspberry in one hand, some seeds of which he puts to his lips. The expression of the mother is very beautiful in its serene happiness of worship. Her head-dress is peculiar. "The light golden hair is entirely off the forehead, with but little showing, and is formed into a kind of pad, enclosed in an ornamental veil of thin material, which being tied round upon the top of the head, lightly forms a triangular curved peak upon the forehead, and hangs down gracefully on either shoulder." The entire picture is, as Kugler says, "a work of the most attractive character, from its careful finish, its rich and transparent colour, and its great beauty of expression."

297. THE NATIVITY.

_Il Romanino_ (Brescian: about 1485-1566).