Chapter II: Part 2

When somewhat over fifty years of age Titian removed to a spot just outside Venice in the district of Biri, where he laid out a beautiful garden. The view from Casa Grande, as the house was called, was very extensive, looking across the lagoon to the island of Murano and the hills of Ceneda. Here Titian entertained his guests with lavish hospitality. A distinguished scholar of that time, one Priscianese, who had come to Venice in 1540 to publish a grammar, describes how he was entertained there: "Before the tables were set out," he writes, ... "we spent the time in looking at the lively figures in the excellent pictures, of which the house was full, and in discussing the real beauty and charm of the garden.... In the meanwhile came the hour for supper, which was no less beautiful and well arranged than copious and well provided. Besides the most delicate viands and precious wines, there were all those pleasures and amusements that are suited to the season, the guests and the feast.... The sea, as soon as the sun went down, swarmed with gondolas, adorned with beautiful women, and resounded with the varied harmony of music of voices and instruments, which till midnight accompanied our delightful supper."

The darling of this beautiful home at Casa Grande was the painter's daughter Lavinia, and the portrait shows how she looked in 1549. Her mother had died before the removal of the family to Biri, and the aunt, who had since tried to fill the vacant place, died about the time this portrait was painted. A new responsibility had therefore fallen upon the young girl, and she was now her father's chief consolation. It is thought that the picture was painted for Titian's friend Argentina Pallavicino of Reggio. As a guest at her father's house this gentleman must often have seen and admired the charming girl, and the portrait was a pleasant souvenir of his visits.

Lavinia is seen carrying a silver salver of fruit, turning, as she goes, to look over her shoulder. The open country stretches before her, and it is as if she were stepping from a portico of the house to the garden terrace to bring the fruit to some guest. She is handsomely dressed, as her father would like to see his daughter. The gown is of yellow flowered brocade, the bodice edged with jewelled cording. Over the neck is thrown a delicate scarf of some gauzy stuff, the ends floating down in front. An ornamental gold tiara is set on the wavy auburn hair, an ear-ring hangs from the pretty ear, and a string of pearls encircles the neck. Imagine the figure against a deep red curtain, and you have in mind the whole color scheme of this richly decorative picture.

LAVINIA

_Berlin Gallery_]

Lavinia, however, would be attractive in any dress, with her fresh young beauty and simple unconscious grace. Her features are not modelled in classic lines: the charm of the face is its fresh color, the pretty curves of the plump cheek, and, above all, the sweet open expression. The hands are delicate and shapely, as of one well born and gently reared. Lavinia is perhaps not a very intellectual person, but she has a sweet sunny nature and is full of life and spirits. It would seem impossible to be sad or lonely in her cheery company. She holds her precious burden high, with an air of triumph, and turns with a smile to see it duly admired. The delicious fruit certainly makes a tempting display. The girl's innocent round face and arch pose remind one of a playful kitten.

The painter has chosen a graceful and unusual attitude. The curves of the outstretched arms serve as counterbalancing lines to the main lines of the figure. The artist himself was so pleased with the pose that he repeated it in another picture, where Lavinia assumes the gruesome rôle of Salome, and carries in her salver, in place of the fruit, the head of St. John the Baptist!

A few years after our portrait was painted, Lavinia was betrothed to Cornelio Sarcinelli, of Serravalle, and a new portrait was painted in honor of the event. When the marriage settlement was signed Lavinia brought her husband a dowry of fourteen hundred ducats, a royal sum in those days. The wedding was on the 19th of June, 1555.

Some years after her marriage Lavinia again sat to her father for her portrait. Her beauty, as we have noted, was not of a lasting kind, and in the passing years her fresh color faded, and she became far too stout for grace. Yet the frank nature always made her attractive, and it is pleasant to see in the kindly face the fulfilment of the happy promise of her girlhood.

VIII

CHRIST OF THE TRIBUTE MONEY

During the three years of Christ's ministry, his words and actions were closely watched by his enemies, who hoped to find some fault of which they could accuse him. Not a flaw could be seen in that blameless life, and it was only by some trick that they could get him into their power.

One plan that they devised was very cunning. Palestine was at that time a province of the Roman empire, and the popular party among the Jews chafed at having to pay tribute to the emperor Cæsar. On the other hand the presence of the Roman governor in Jerusalem made it dangerous to express any open rebellion. Jesus was the friend of the people, and many of his followers believed that he would eventually lead them to throw off the Roman yoke. As a matter of fact, however, he had taken no part in political discussions.

His enemies now determined to make him commit himself to one party or the other. If he declared himself for Rome, his popularity was lost; if against Rome he was liable to arrest. The evangelists relate how shrewdly their question was framed to force a compromising reply, and how completely he silenced them with his twofold answer. This is the story:--

"Then went the Pharisees, and took counsel how they might entangle him in his talk. And they sent out unto him their disciples with the Herodians, saying, Master, we know that thou art true, and teachest the way of God in truth, neither carest thou for any man: for thou regardest not the person of men. Tell us therefore, What thinkest thou? Is it lawful to give tribute unto Cæsar, or not?

"But Jesus perceived their wickedness, and said, Why tempt ye me, ye hypocrites? Shew me the tribute money. And they brought unto him a penny. And he saith unto them, Whose is this image and superscription? They say unto him, Cæsar's. Then saith he unto them, Render, therefore, unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's; and unto God the things that are God's. When they had heard these words, they marvelled and left him, and went their way."[13]

That was indeed a wonderful scene, and it is made quite real to us in our picture: Christ and the Pharisee stand face to face, engaged in conversation. A wily old fellow has been chosen spokesman for his party. His bronzed skin and hairy muscular arm show him to be of a common class of laborers. The face is seamed with toil, and he has the hooked, aquiline nose of his race. As he peers into the face of his supposed dupe, his expression is full of low cunning and hypocrisy. He holds between thumb and forefinger the Roman coin which Christ has called for, and looks up as if wondering what that has to do with the question.

CHRIST OF THE TRIBUTE MONEY

_Dresden Gallery_]

Christ turns upon him a searching glance which seems to read his motives as an open page. There is no indignation in the expression, only sorrowful rebuke. His answer is ready, and he points quietly to the coin with the words which so astonish his listeners.

The character of Christ is so many-sided that any painter who tries to represent him has the difficult task of uniting in a single face all noble qualities of manhood. Let us notice what elements of character Titian has made most prominent, and we shall see how much more nearly he satisfies our ideal than other painters.

Refinement and intellectual power impress us first in this countenance: the noble forehead is that of a thinker. The eyes show penetration and insight: we feel how impossible it would be to deceive this man. It is a gentle face, too, but without weakness. Here is one who would sympathize with the sorrowing and have compassion on the erring, but who would not forget to be just. Strength of character and firmness of purpose are indicated in his expression. The highest quality in the face is its moral earnestness. Its calm purity contrasts with the coarse, evil face of the questioner as light shining in the darkness. There is, perhaps, only one other head of Christ in art with which it can properly be compared, and this is by Leonardo da Vinci, in the Last Supper at Milan. The two painters have expressed, as no others have been able to, a spiritual majesty worthy of the subject.

The early painters used to surround the head of Christ with a circle of gold, which was called a nimbus, a halo, or a glory. The custom had been given up by Titian's time, but we see in our picture the remnant of the old symbol in the three tiny points of light which shine over the top and sides of the Saviour's hair. They are a mystic emblem of the Trinity.

The artistic qualities of the picture are above praise. There are few, if any, of Titian's works executed with so much care and delicacy of finish, but without sacrificing anything in the breadth. We recognize the painter's characteristic touch in the disposition of the draperies, in the delicacy of the hair, the modelling of the hands, and the pose of Christ's head. The figures have that quality of vitality which we observe in Titian's great portraits. The color of Christ's robe is red, and his mantle a deep blue.

IX

THE BELLA

Among Titian's wealthy patrons was a certain Duke of Urbino, Francesco Maria della Rovere, who, as the general-in-chief of the Venetian forces, came to Venice to live when our artist was at the height of his fame. From this time till the Duke's death the painter was brought into relations with this noble family. This was the period when the Bella was painted, and the picture has, as we shall see, an intimate connection with these patrons.

The Duke's wife was Eleanora Gonzaga, sister of the Duke of Mantua, celebrated for her beauty and refinement. A contemporary (Baldassare Castiglione) writing of the lady, says: "If ever there were united wisdom, grace, beauty, genius, courtesy, gentleness, and refined manners, it was in her person, where these combined qualities form a chain adorning her every movement."

The Duke himself was deeply in love with his wife. A week after his marriage he wrote that "he had never met a more comely, merry, or sweet girl, who to a most amiable disposition added a surprisingly precocious judgment, which gained for her general admiration." Eleanora, on her part A showed an undeviating affection for her husband, and they lived together happily.

From the date of her marriage, we can reckon that the Duchess must have been well into her thirties when she came to Venice to live. From a portrait Titian painted of her, when she was about forty, we see that much of the fresh beauty of her girlhood had faded. She had, however, good features, with large, fine eyes and arching brows. Her figure was graceful and her neck beautiful: the head was particularly well set.

All these qualities kindled the artistic imagination of Titian. In the matron of forty his inner eye caught a vision of the belle of twenty. Thereupon, he wrought an artist's miracle: he painted pictures of Eleanora as she had looked twenty years before. One of these, and perhaps the most famous, is the Bella of our illustration.[14] The identity of the original is hidden under this simple title, which is an Italian word, meaning the Beauty. An ancient legend tells of a wonderful fountain, by drinking of which a man, though old, might renew his youth and be, like the gods, immortal. There were some who went in quest of these waters, among them, as we remember, the Spanish knight, Ponce de Leon, who, thinking to find them north of Cuba, discovered our Florida. The Duchess of Urbino found such a fountain of youth in the art of Titian. Comparing her actual portrait with the Bella, painted within a few years, it seems as if the lady of the former had quaffed the magic draught which had restored her to her youthful beauty.

THE BELLA

_Pitti Gallery, Florence_]

The Bella is what is called a half length portrait, the figure standing, tall, slender, and perfectly proportioned. The lady turns her face to meet ours, and whether we move to the right or the left, the eyes of the enchantress seem to follow us. We fall under their spell at the first glance; there is a delightful witchery about them.

The small head is exquisitely modelled, and the hair is coiled about it in close braids to preserve the round contours corresponding to the faultless curves of cheek and chin. The hair is of golden auburn, waving prettily about the face, and escaping here and there in little tendrils. Over the forehead it forms the same perfect arch which is repeated in the brows. The slender throat is long and round, like the stalk of a flower; the neck and shoulders are white and firm, and shaped in beautiful curves.

The rich costume interests us as indicating the fashions in the best Venetian society of the early 16th century. Comparing it with that of the Empress Isabella in our other picture,[15] we notice that at the same period the Venetian styles differed considerably from the Spanish, to the advantage of the former. Instead of the stiff Spanish corset which destroyed the natural grace of the figure, the Bella wears a comfortably fitting bodice, from which the skirt falls in full straight folds. The dress is of brownish purple velvet, combined with peacock blue brocade. The sleeves are ornamented with small knots pulled through slashes. A long chain falls across the neck, and jewelled ear-rings hang in the ears.[16]

It is pleasant to analyze the details of the figure and costume, but after all the charm of the picture is in the total impression it conveys. Applied to this lovely vision of womanhood the words of Castiglione seem no flattery. In her are united "grace, beauty, courtesy, gentleness, and refined manners." The essence of aristocracy is expressed in her bearing: the pose of the head is that of a princess. There is no trace of haughtiness in her manner, and no approach to familiarity: she has the perfect equipoise of good breeding.

The picture gives us that sense of a real presence which it was the crowning glory of Titian's art to achieve. The canvas is much injured, but the Bella is still immortally young and beautiful.

X

MEDEA AND VENUS

(_Formerly called Sacred and Profane Love_)

A charming story is told in Ovid's "Metamorphoses" of Jason's adventures in search of the golden fleece, and of his love for Medea.[17] Jason was a Greek prince, young, handsome, brave, and withal of noble heart. He had journeyed over seas in his good ship Argo, and had at last come to Colchis to win the coveted treasure.

The King Æëtes had no mind to give up the fleece without a struggle, and he set the young hero a hard task. He was ordered to tame two bulls which had feet of brass and breath of flame. When he had yoked these, he was to plough a field and sow it with serpent's teeth which would yield a crop of armed men to attack him. While Jason turned over in his mind how he should perform these feats, he chanced to meet the king's beautiful daughter Medea. At once the two fell in love with each other, and Jason's fortunes took a new turn. Medea possessed certain secrets of enchantment which might be of practical service to her lover in his adventure. She had a magic salve which protected the body from fire and steel. She also knew the charm--and it was merely the throwing of a stone--which would turn the "earth-born crop of foes" from attacking an enemy to attack one another. Finally she had drugs which would put to sleep the dragon guarding the fleece.

To impart these secrets to Jason might seem an easy matter, but Medea did not find it so. She was a loyal daughter, and Jason had come to take her father's prized possession. She would be a traitor to aid a stranger against her own people. The poet tells how in her trouble the princess sought a quiet spot where she might take counsel with herself.

"In vain," she cried,
"Medea! dost thou strive! Some deity
Resists thee! Ah, this passion sure, or one
Resembling this, must be what men call love!
Why should my sire's conditions seem too hard?
And yet too hard they are! Why should I shake
And tremble for the fate of one whom scarce
These eyes have looked on twice? Whence comes this fear
I cannot quell? Unhappy! from thy breast
Dash out these new-lit fires!--Ah! wiser far
If so I could!--But some new power constrains,
And reason this way points, and that way, love."

The struggle goes on for some time, and the maiden's heart is torn with conflicting impulses. Summoning up "all images of right and faith and shame and natural duty," she fancies that her love is conquered. A moment later Jason crosses her path and the day is lost. Together they pledge their vows at the shrine of Hecate, and in due time they sail away in the Argo with the golden fleece.

MEDEA AND VENUS

_Borghese Gallery, Rome_]

Our picture illustrates the scene of Medea's temptation at the fountain. The tempter is love, in the form of Venus, the Greek goddess represented in the old mythology as the inspirer of the tender passion. She is accompanied by the little love-god Cupid, the mischievous fellow whose bow and arrow work so much havoc in human hearts. The perplexed princess sits beside the fountain, holding her head in the attitude of one listening. Venus leans towards her from the other side and softly pleads the lover's cause. Cupid paddles in the water as if quite unconcerned in the affair, but none can tell what mischief he is plotting.

We notice a distinct resemblance between the faces of the two maidens, and perhaps this is the painter's way of telling us that Venus is only Medea's other self: the voice of the tempter speaks from her own heart. The expression is quite different on the two faces, tender and persuasive in Venus, dreamy and preoccupied in Medea. If we turn again to Ovid for the interpretation of the picture, we may fancy that Venus is describing the proud days when, as Jason's bride, Medea would journey with him through the cities of Greece. "My head will touch the very stars with rapture," thought the princess.

The dress of Medea is rich and elegant, but quite simply made; the heavy folds of the skirt describe long, beautiful lines. In one gloved hand she holds a bunch of herbs, and the other rests upon a casket.

The figure of Venus is conceived according to classic tradition, undraped, as the goddess emerged from the sea-foam at her birth. In the Greek religion the human body was honored as a fit incarnation for the deities. Sculptors delighted in the long flowing lines and beautiful curves which could be developed in different poses. Titian's picture translates the spirit of Greek sculpture, so to speak, into the art of painting. The figure of Venus may well be compared with the marble Venus of Milo, in the pure beauty of the face, the exquisite modelling of the figure, and the sweeping lines of grace described in the attitude.[18] The painter contrasts the delicate tint of the flesh with the rich crimson of the mantle which falls from the shoulder.

The landscape is a charming part of the picture, stretching on either side in sunny vistas, pleasantly diversified with woods and waters, hills and pasture lands, church and castle.[19] Sunset lights the sky, and lends its color to the glowing harmonies of the composition.

XI

THE MAN WITH THE GLOVE

The Man with the Glove is so called for lack of a more definite name. Nothing is told by Titian's biographers about the original of the portrait, and the mystery gives a certain romantic interest to the picture. Not being limited by any actual facts we can invent a story of our own about the person, or as many stories as we like, each according to his fancy.

The sitter certainly makes a good figure for the hero of a romance. He is young and handsome, well dressed, with an unmistakable air of breeding, and singularly expressive eyes. Such eyes usually belong to a shy, sensitive nature, and have a haunting quality like those of some woodland creature.

The title of The Man with the Glove is appropriate in emphasizing an important feature of the costume. In the days of this portrait, gloves were worn only by persons of wealth and distinction, and were a distinguishing mark of elegance. Though somewhat clumsily made, according to our modern notions, they were large enough to preserve the characteristic shape of the hand, and give easy play to the fingers. They formed, too, a poetic element in the social life of the age of chivalry. It was by throwing down his glove (or gauntlet) that one knight challenged another; while a glove was also sometimes a love-token between a knight and his lady.

The glove has its artistic purpose in the picture, casting the left hand into shadow, to contrast with the ungloved right hand. The texture of the leather is skilfully rendered, and harmonizes pleasantly with the serious color scheme of the composition.

Besides the gloves, the daintily ruffled shirt, the seal ring, and the long neck chain, show the sitter to be a young man of fashion. Not that he is in the least a fop, but he belongs to that station in life where fine raiment is a matter of course, and he wears it as one to the manner born. His hands are delicately modelled, but they are not the plump hands of an idler. They are rather flexible and sensitive, with long fingers like the hands of an artist.

The glossy hair falls over the ears, and is brushed forward and cut in a straight line across the forehead. The style suits well the open frankness of the countenance. We must note Titian's rendering of both hair and hands as points of excellence in the portrait. There is a great deal of individuality in the texture of a person's hair and the shape of his hands, but many artists have apparently overlooked this fact. Van Dyck, for instance, used a model who furnished the hands for his portraits, irrespective of the sitter. Titian, in his best work, counted nothing too trivial for faithful artistic treatment.

THE MAN WITH THE GLOVE

_The Louvre, Paris_]

If we were to try to explain why The Man with the Glove is a great work of art we should find the first reason, perhaps, in the fact that the man seems actually alive. The portrait has what the critics call vitality, in a remarkable degree. Again, the painter has revealed in the face the inner life of the man himself; the portrait is a revelation of his personality.

It has been said that every man wears an habitual mask in the presence of his fellows. It is only when he is taken unaware that the mask drops, and the man's real self looks out of his face. The portrait painter's art must catch the sitter's expression in such a moment of unconsciousness. The great artist must be a seer as well as a painter, to penetrate the secrets of human character.

The young man of our picture is one of those reticent natures capable of intense feeling. In this moment of unconsciousness his very soul seems to look forth from his eyes. It is the soul of a poet, though he may not possess the gift of song. He has the poet's imagination as a dreamer of noble dreams.

The time seems to have come when he is just awakening to the possibilities of life. He faces the future seriously, but with no shrinking. One recalls the words of Gareth, in Tennyson's Idyll:

"Man am I grown, a man's work must I do.
* * * * *
Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the king--
Else wherefore born?"[20]

The lofty ideals of the knights of King Arthur's Round Table are such as we feel sure this gentle spirit would make his own:--

"To reverence the king as if he were
Their conscience, and their conscience as their king,
To break the heathen and uphold the Christ,
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs,
To speak no slander, no nor listen to it,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,
To love one maiden only, cleave to her,
And worship her by years of noble deeds
Until they won her."[21]

It may be of these "noble deeds" of chivalry that our young man is dreaming, or it may be of that "one maiden" for whose sake they are to be done. Certainly these candid eyes see visions which we should be glad to see, and show us the depths of a knightly soul.

XII

THE ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN

(_Detail_)

The Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus, has for over nineteen centuries represented to Christendom all the ideal qualities of womanhood. In her character, as revealed in St. Luke's gospel, we read of her noble, trustful humility in accepting the message of the Annunciation; of her decision and prudence shown in her visit to Elizabeth; of her intellectual power as manifested in the song of the Magnificat; of the contemplative nature with which she watched the growth of Jesus; of her maternal devotion throughout her son's ministry,--and of her sublime fortitude and faith at his crucifixion.[22] Such was the woman so highly favored of God, she whom the angel called "blessed among women."

Art has pictured for us many imaginary scenes from the life of Mary. The most familiar and best loved subject is that of her motherhood, where she is seen with her babe in her arms. There are other subjects, less common, showing her as a glorified figure in mid-air as in a vision. One such is that called the Immaculate Conception, which the Spanish painter Murillo so frequently repeated.[23] Another is the Assumption, representing her at her death as borne by angels to heaven.

The "Golden Legend" relates how "the right fair among the daughters of Jerusalem ... full of charity and dilection" was "joyously received" into glory. "The angels were glad, the archangels enjoyed, the thrones sang, the dominations made melody, the principalities harmonized, the potestates harped, cherubim and seraphim sang laudings and praisings." Also, "the angels were with the apostles singing, and replenished all the land with marvelous sweetness."[24]

The Assumption of the Virgin is the subject of a noble painting by Titian, one of the most celebrated pictures in the world. A group of apostles stand on the earth gazing after the receding figure of the Virgin as she soars into the air on a wreath of cloud-borne angels. From the upper air the Heavenly Father floats downward with his angels to receive her. As the canvas is very large, over twenty-two feet in height, a small reproduction of the entire picture is unsatisfactory, and our illustration gives us the heart of the composition for careful study.

THE ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN (DETAIL)

_Venice Academy_]

The Virgin rises buoyantly through the air, and the figure is so full of life and motion that it seems as if it would presently soar beyond our sight. The heavy folds of the skirt swirl about the body in the swiftness of the ascent. The rushing air fills the mantle like the sail of a ship. Yet the source of motion is not within the figure itself, for we see the feet resting firmly on the cloud. It is as if she were borne aloft in a celestial chariot composed of an angelic host.

The face is lifted with a look of rapture; the arms are extended in a gesture of exultation. The pose of the head displays the beautiful throat, strong and full like that of a singer. The features are cast in a large, majestic mould. The hands, turned palm outward, are large and flexible, but with delicate, tapering fingers.

We have already seen in other pictures what was Titian's conception of the Virgin in her girlhood and motherhood. We find little of the ethereal and spiritual in his ideal, and nothing that would in any way suggest that true piety is morbid or sentimental. Other painters have erred in this direction, but not Titian. To him the Virgin was no angel in disguise, but a strong, happy, healthy woman, rejoicing in life. But though a woman, she was in the poet's phrase "a woman above all women glorified." She possessed in perfection all the good gifts of human nature. Titian's ideal coincided with the old Greek formula, "A sound mind in a sound body." The Virgin of the Assumption is in fact not unlike a Greek goddess in her magnificently developed physique and glorious beauty.

Our illustration includes a few of the baby angels from the wreath supporting the Madonna. They are packed so closely together in the picture that their little limbs interlace like interwoven stems in a garland of flowers. Yet the figures are cunningly arranged to bring into prominence a series of radiating lines which flow towards a centre in the Madonna's face. We see in the corner of our print a little arm pointing to the Virgin, and above it is a cherub's wing drawn in the same oblique line.

Frolicsome as is this whole company of angels, they are of an almost unearthly beauty. A poetic critic has told of standing before the picture contemplating these lovely spirits one after another, until, as she expresses it, "A thrill came over me like that which I felt when Mendelssohn played the organ and I became music while I listened." She sums up the effect of the picture as "mind and music and love, kneaded, as it were, into form and color."[25]

When we analyze the drawing of the Madonna's figure we see that it is drawn in an outline of long, beautiful curves. The principle of repetition is skilfully worked into the composition. The outer sleeve falls away from the right arm in an oval which exactly duplicates that made by the lower portion of the mantle sweeping out at one side. By tracing the main lines of the drapery one will find them running in parallels.

XIII

FLORA

Besides the portraits intended as actual likenesses of the sitters, Titian was fond of painting what may be called ideal portraits, or fancy pictures. While real persons furnished the original models for these, the painter let his imagination have free play in modifying and perfecting form and feature. We have seen an illustration of this process in the picture called the Bella, an idealized portrait of Eleanora Gonzaga. The Flora is another example.

We do not know the name of the original, but we may be sure that it represents an actual person. There is a tradition that she was the daughter of one of Titian's fellow-painters, Palma, with whom he was in love. As a matter of fact, Palma had no daughter, and the young woman was doubtless only a favorite Venetian model whom both painters employed. Apparently it was she who posed for both figures in the picture of Medea and Venus which we have studied.[26]

Flora's hair is of that auburn tint which the Venetians loved, and which, it is believed, was artificially produced. It is looped into soft, waving puffs over the ears, and gathered back by a silken cord, below which it falls like a delicate veil thinly spread over the shoulders. The skin is exquisitely white and soft, and the thin garment has been allowed to slip from one shoulder so that we may see the full, beautiful neck.

We notice with what art the painter has arranged the draperies. From the right shoulder the garment falls in delicate, radiating folds across the figure. Over the garment is thrown a stiff, rose-colored brocade mantle, contrasting pleasantly with the former both in color and texture. A glimpse of this mantle is seen at the right side and above the left shoulder and arm, over which the hand gathers it up to prevent it from slipping. This action of the left hand introduces a new set of lines into the picture, breaking the folds of the drapery into eddying circles which offset the more sweeping lines of the composition.[27]

The drawing here is well worth studying, and we may give it more attention since we must lose the lovely color of the painting in the reproduction. The main lines flow in diagonals in two opposite directions. There is the long line of the right arm and shoulder drawn in a fine, strong curve across the canvas. Parallel with it is the edge of the brocade mantle as it is held in the left hand. The counter lines are the curve of the neck and left shoulder, with which the upper edge of the undergarment runs parallel. The wide spaces between these enclosing lines are broken by sprays of radiating lines, one formed by the folds of the undergarment, and the other smaller one by the locks of hair on the left shoulder.

FLORA

_Uffizi Gallery, Florence_]

The graceful pose of the head, inclined to one side, suggests the soft languor of a southern temperament. It was often adopted by Titian, and we see another instance in the attitude of the Venus. We fancy that the painters liked particularly the long curve thus obtained along the neck and shoulder. The angle made on the other side between head and shoulder is filled in with the falling hair.

The title of Flora is given to the picture after the fashion of Titian's time for drawing subjects from mythology. The revival of classic learning had opened to Italian art a delightful new field of illustration. We see how Titian took advantage of it in such pictures as Medea and Venus. In England the love of the classics was seen in the poetry which took much the same place there that painting held in Italy. Flora was the ancient goddess of flowers and is made much of in Elizabethan verse.[28] Some pretty lines by Richard Carlton describe

"When Flora fair the pleasant tidings bringeth
Of summer sweet with herbs and flowers adorned."

In our picture the goddess holds a handful of flowers, roses, jessamine and violets, as a sign of her identity. We confess that her type of beauty hardly corresponds to our ideal of Flora. She is a gentle, amiable creature, but not ethereal and poetic enough for the goddess of flowers. Were we to choose a character for her from mythology it would be Juno, the matronly "ox-eyed" goddess, who presided over marriage and whose emblem was the productive pomegranate.

As we compare Flora with the other fair women of our collection, we see that her beauty is of a less elegant and aristocratic type than that of the Bella, and less delicate and refined than that of the Empress Isabella. Her face is perhaps too broad to satisfy a connoisseur of beauty, and she is quite plainly of plebeian caste. Like Lavinia her charm is in the healthy vitality which was the special characteristic of the Venetian beauties of the time. The figure glows with warm pulsing life.

XIV

THE PESARO MADONNA

High on a great marble pedestal, between the stately pillars of a temple, sits the mother Mary with her child Jesus, receiving worshippers. Beyond the pillars is seen the blue sky veiled with fleecy clouds. A tiny cloud has floated within the enclosure, bearing two winged cherubs, who hold a cross between them, hovering over the group below.

The company of worshippers kneel on the tessellated pavement: we see from their dress that they are wealthy Venetians of the sixteenth century. It is the family group of a certain Jacopo Pesaro, who was at that time bishop of Paphos. He is known by the familiar nickname of "Baffo," and played an important part in Venetian history.

When the Venetians went forth in the New Crusade to attack the Turks, Pesaro or "Baffo" was the commander of the galleys sent by the Borgia pope Alexander VI. The expedition being successful, the bishop wished to show his gratitude for the divine favor. Accordingly, in the course of time, he ordered this picture as a thank-offering commemorative of his victory. He comes with his kinsman Benedetto and other members of his family to consecrate the standards taken from the enemy.

The bishop himself has the most prominent place among the worshippers at the foot of the throne steps, while Benedetto, with a group behind him, kneels opposite. The victorious commander is accompanied by St. George, who carries the banner inscribed with the papal arms and the Pesaro escutcheon. He leads forward two Turkish captives to whom he turns to speak. St. George was a warrior saint, and being besides the patron of Venice his appearance in this capacity is very appropriate here.

There are other saints to lend their august presence to the ceremony. As the picture was to be given to a church dedicated to the Franciscan friars or "Frari," two of the most celebrated members of this order are represented. They are St. Francis, the founder, and St. Anthony, of Padua, the great preacher, and they stand in the habits of their order beside the throne. Midway on the steps St. Peter is seated reading a book from which he turns to look down upon Jacopo. The key, which is the symbol of his authority in the church, stands on the step below. The saints, we see, form a connecting link between the exalted height of the Madonna and Child and the worshippers. St. Peter introduces the bishop, and St. Francis seems to ask favor for the group with Benedetto.

The scene is full of pomp and grandeur. The superb architecture of the temple, the rich draperies of the sacred group, the splendid dresses of the worshippers, the red and gold banner, all contribute to the impression of magnificence which the picture conveys. The colossal scale of the composition gives us an exhilarating sense of spaciousness. The color harmony is described as glorious.

THE PESARO MADONNA

_Church of the Frari, Venice_]

Though the bishop of Paphos comes to render thanks, his attitude is far from humble. There are no bowed heads in the kneeling company. These proud Pesari all hold themselves erect in conscious self-importance. It is as if they were taking part in some pageant. Only the face of the youth in the corner relaxes from dignified impassivity and looks wistfully out at us.

The Madonna leans graciously from her high throne and looks into the face of the bishop. She, too, has the proud aspect and demeanor which these haughty Venetians would demand of one whom they were to honor. Her splendid vitality is what impresses us most forcibly. The child is a merry little fellow who does not concern himself at all with the ceremony. He has caught up his mother's veil in the left hand, drawing it over his head as if in a game of hide and seek with St. Francis. The little foot is kicked out playfully as he looks down into the good saint's face.

Let us consider a moment the skill with which Titian has united the various parts of his picture. The canvas was of an awkward shape, being of so great height. To fill the space proportionately, the Virgin's throne is placed at a height which divides the picture. The little cloud-borne cherubs break the otherwise undue length of the temple pillars. The composition of the group is outlined in a rather odd-shaped triangle. All its main lines flow diagonally toward a focus in the face of the Virgin, who is of course the dominant figure in the company.

Notice the continuous line extending from the top to the bottom of the group. The folds of the Madonna's drapery are ingeniously carried on in the rich velvet throne hanging; and St. Peter's yellow mantle falls well below, where the bishop's robe takes up the lines and carries them to the pavement. There is a veritable cascade of draperies flowing diagonally through the centre of the picture. The staff of the banner describes a line cutting this main diagonal at exactly the same angle, and thus avoiding any one-sided effect in the picture. In the right of the composition the outline of the Christchild's figure, the arm of St. Francis, and the stiff robe of Benedetto make a series of lines which enclose the triangle on that side.

The critic Ruskin has enunciated a set of laws of composition nearly all of which find illustration in this painting.[29] _Principality_ is well exemplified in the prominence of the Virgin's position and the flow of the lines toward her. _Repetition_, _Contrast_, and _Continuity_, are seen in the drawing of the compositional lines, as has been indicated. Finally, the picture is perfect in _Unity_, which is the result of masterly composition, its many diverse parts being bound closely together to form a harmonious whole.

XV

ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

St. John the Baptist was the cousin of Jesus, and was the elder of the two by about six months. Before his birth the angel Gabriel appeared to his father, Zacharias, and predicted for the coming child a great mission as a prophet. His special work was to prepare the way for the advent of the Messiah.

Zacharias was a priest and a good man, and both he and his wife Elizabeth were deeply impressed with the angel's message. Not long after, their cousin Mary came from Nazareth to bring them news of the wonderful babe Jesus promised her by the same angel. He was to be the Messiah whom John was to proclaim. The two women talked earnestly together of the future of their children, and no doubt planned to do all in their power to further the angel's prediction. The time came when all these strange prophecies were fulfilled. As John grew to manhood he showed himself quite different from other men. He took up his abode in the wilderness, where he lived almost as a hermit. His raiment was of camel's hair fastened about him with a leathern girdle; his food was locusts and wild honey. At length "the word of God came unto him," and he began to go about the country preaching. His speech was as simple and rugged as his manner of life. He boldly denounced the Pharisees and Sadducees as "a generation of vipers," and warned sinners "to flee from the wrath to come." The burden of all his sermons was, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

The fame of his preaching reached Jerusalem, and the Jews sent priests and Levites to ask him, "Who art thou?" His reply was in the mystic language of the old Hebrew prophet Isaiah, "I am the Voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord."

It was a part of John's work to baptize his converts in the river Jordan. He explained, however, that this baptism by water was only a symbol of the spiritual baptism which they were to receive at the hands of the coming: Messiah. "One mightier than I cometh," he said, "the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire."[30]

At last Jesus himself sought to be baptized by John. The Baptist protested his unworthiness, but Jesus insisted, and the ceremony was performed. And "it came to pass that ... the heaven was opened, and the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape like a dove upon him, and a voice came from heaven, which said, Thou art my beloved son; in thee I am well pleased."[31] This was the promised sign by which John knew Jesus as the Messiah, and he straightway proclaimed him to his disciples.

ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

_Venice Academy_]

His life work was now consummated, but he was not permitted to see the fruits of his labors. For his open denunciation of King Herod he was cast into prison, and was soon after beheaded.

In our picture St. John stands in a mountain glen preaching. As his glance is directed out of the picture it is as if his audience were in front, and we among their number. His pointing finger seems to single out some one to whom he directs attention, and we know well who it is. This must be that day when seeing Jesus approach the prophet exclaimed, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world. This is he of whom I said, After me cometh a man which is preferred before me; for he was before me."[32] The lamb which lies on the ground beside him is the outward symbol of his words. The slender reed cross he carries is an emblem of his mission as the prophet of the crucified one.

From head to feet the Baptist impresses us with his muscular power. There is no hint of fastings and vigils in this strong athletic figure. Here, as elsewhere. Titian will have nothing of that piety which is associated with a delicate and puny physique. He is the art apostle of that "muscular Christianity" of which Charles Kingsley used to preach. The Baptist's skin is bronzed and weather-beaten from his active out-of-door life. Yet the face shows the stern and sombre character of the prophet. There are traces of suffering in the expression, as of one who mourns profoundly the evil in the world. Something of the fanatic gleams in the eyes, and the effect is heightened by the wild masses of unkempt hair which frame the countenance.

Nature too seems to be in a somewhat wild and sombre mood in this spot. A dark bank rises abruptly at the side, and St. John stands in its shadow, just under a tuft of coarse grass and bushes jutting from its upper edge. The sky is overcast with clouds. A narrow stream falls over a rocky bed, and in the distance slender trees lift their feathery branches in the air. In Titian's time landscape painting had not developed into an independent art, but was an important part of figure compositions. Our painter always took great pains with his landscapes, making them harmonize, as does this, with the character of the figures.

The picture reminds us of the St. Christopher which we have examined, being, like it, a study direct from the life of some athletic model. Yet here we see to better advantage Titian's work in modelling the nude figure. We can understand that one reason why he could make a draped figure so lifelike was because he studied the anatomy of the human body in undraped models. The figure here stands out almost as if it were done in sculpture.

XVI

PORTRAIT OF TITIAN

Probably no other painter in the world's history was ever granted so long a life in which to develop his art as was Titian. He was a mere boy when he began to paint, and he was still busy with his brush when stricken with plague at the age of ninety-nine.

The years between were full of activity, and every decade was marked by some specially notable work as by a golden milestone. The Assumption of the Virgin was painted at the age of forty, the Pesaro Madonna at fifty, the Presentation of the Virgin in his early sixties, the portrait of Philip II. at about seventy, and St. John the Baptist at eighty. How interesting it would be if we could have a portrait of the man himself painted at each decade!

Titian, however, seems to have been quite lacking in personal vanity. Though a handsome and distinguished-looking man, a fine subject for a portrait, he seldom painted his own likeness. We value the more the fine portrait of our frontispiece painted at the age of eighty-five. The years have dealt so gently with him that we may still call him a handsome man. Yet the face has the shrunken look of old age, there are deep hollows about the eyes, and the features are sharpened under the withered skin. There is an expression which seems almost like awe in the eyes. The painter gazes absently into space as if piercing beyond the veil which separates this world from the next. The mood does not seem to be one of reminiscence, but rather of grave anticipation.

As we study the face we are interested to read in it what we know of the man's character and history. Titian was, as we have seen, a man who enjoyed very much the good things of life, and passed most of his days in luxurious surroundings. He was thoroughly a man of the world, at ease in the society of princes and noblemen, and a princely host in his own house. Our portrait shows that his courtly bearing did not fail him in his old age: we can fancy the ceremonious courtesy of his manner. The figure is extended well below the waist, perhaps that we may see how erect the old man is.

Titian, too, had not a little taste for literature and the society of the learned. His fine high brow and keen eyes are sufficient evidence that he was a man of intellect. That he was a fond father we have no doubt, and we like to trace the lines of kindliness in the fine old face.

Age cannot quench the old man's ardor for his art. The brush is still his familiar companion, and will go with him to the end. He holds it here in his right hand, in the attitude of a painter pausing to get the effect of his work. It may be from this that he would have us think that his glance is directed toward his canvas. In that case, the serious expression would indicate that the subject is a solemn one, perhaps the Ecce Homo, or the Pieta, which he painted in his later years.

We see that his hand had not lost its cunning in summoning before us the real presence of a sitter, and that he could paint his own likeness as readily as that of another. The portrait shows us the best elements in a man of a many-sided nature. This is Titian the master, whom the world honors as one of the greatest of his kind.

PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES AND FOREIGN WORDS

The Diacritical Marks given are those found in the latest edition of Webster's International Dictionary.

EXPLANATION OF DIACRITICAL MARKS.

A Dash ([=_]) above the vowel denotes the long sound, as in f[=a]te,
[=e]ve, t[=i]me, n[=o]te, [=u]se.

A Dash and a Dot ([.=_]) above the vowel denote the same sound, less
prolonged.

A Curve ([)_]) above the vowel denotes the short sound, as in
[)a]dd, [)e]nd, [)i]ll, [)o]dd, [)u]p.

A Dot ([._]) above the vowel a denotes the obscure sound of a in
p[.a]st, [.a]bate, Americ[.a].

A Double Dot ([:_]) above the vowel a denotes the broad sound of a
in fäther, älma.

A Double Dot ([_:]) below the vowel a denotes the sound of a in
b[a:]ll.

A Wave ([~_]) above the vowel e denotes the sound of e in h[~e]r.

A Circumflex Accent ([^_]) above the vowel o denotes the sound of o
in bôrn.

A dot ([_.]) below the vowel u denotes the sound of u in the French
language.

[N] indicates that the preceding vowel has the French nasal tone.

th denotes the sound of th in the, this,

ç sounds like s.

[/c] sounds like k.

[g=] sounds like z.

[=g] is hard as in get.

[.g] is soft as in gem.

Æëtes ([.=e][=e]'t[.=e]z).
Andalusia ([)a]n-d[.a]-l[=o][=o]'z[)i]-[.a]
_or_ än-dä-l[=o][=o]-th[=e]'ä).
Anthony ([)a]n't[)o]-n[)i]).
Argo (är'[=g][=o]).
Armada (är-mä'dä _or_ är-m[=a]'d[.a]).
Augsburg (owgs'b[=o][=o]rG).

Baffo (bäf'f[.=o]).
Bäldässä'r[)e].
B[)e]l'lä.
Belvedere (b[)e]l-v[)e]-d[=a]'r[)e] _or_ -d[=e]r').
Benedetto (b[=a]-n[=a]-d[)e]t't[=o]).
B[)e]th'l[=e]h[=e]m.
Biri (b[=e]'r[=e]).
Borgia (bôr'jä).
Brussels (br[)u]s'[)e]lz).

Cæsar (s[=e]'z[.a]r).
Calvary (k[)a]l'v[.a]-r[)i]).
Canaan (k[=a]'n[.a]n _or_ k[=a]'n[.=a]-[.a]n).
Carlton (kärl't[)u]n).
Casa Grande (kä'sä grän'd[.=a]).
Castiglione (käs-t[=e]l-y[=o]'n[.=a]).
Caxton (k[)a]ks't[)u]n).
Ceneda (ch[=a]-n[=a]'dä).
Christopher (kr[)i]s't[.=o]-f[)e]r).
Cleodolinda (kl[.=a]-[.=o]-d[.=o]-l[)i]n'dä).
Cl[)o]s's[)o]n.
Colchis (k[)o]l'k[)i]s).
Cornelio (k[.=o]r-n[=a]'l[.=e]-[.=o]).
Cristoforo (kr[.=e]s-t[=o]'f[.=o]-r[=o]).
C[=u]'p[)i]d.

Diocletian (d[.=i]-[.=o]-kl[=e]'sh[)i]-[.a]n).

Ecce Homo ([)e]k'k[)e], _or_ [)e]k's[=e], h[=o]'m[=o]).
Eleanora ([.=a]-l[.=a]-[.=o]-n[=o]'rä).
Elizabeth ([.=e]-l[)i]z'[.a]-b[)e]th).
Emmanuel ([)e]m-m[)a]n' [.=u]-[)e]l).

F[=e]r'd[)i]n[)a]nd.
Fl[)e]m'[)i]ng.
Flôr[)e]nce.
Francesco (frän-ch[)e]s'k[=o]).
Franciscan (fr[)a]n-s[)i]s'k[)a]n).
Frari (frä'r[=e]).

G[=a]br[)i][)e]l.
G[=a]'r[)e]th.
Giorgione (jôr-j[=o]'n[.=a]).
G[)o]nzä'gä.
Gr[)a]nä'd[.a].
guimpe ([=g][)a][N]p).
Guinevere (gw[)i]n'[)e]-v[=e]r).

Hebrew (h[=e]'br[=o][=o]).
Hecate (h[)e]k'[.=a]-t[.=e]).
Herod (h[)e]r'[)u]d).
Herodians (h[)e]r-[=o]'d[)i]-[.a]nz).