 |
This beautiful little panel, which came from the Leigh Court Collection, under Bellini's name, has much of the depth, richness, and glow which characterises the Beaumont picture, although the latter is naturally more attractive, owing to the wonderful landscape and the more elaborate chiaroscuro. The figures are Bellinesque, yet with that added touch of delicacy and refinement which Giorgione always knows how to impart. The richness of colouring, the depth of tone, the glamour of the whole is far superior to anything that we can point to with certainty as Catena's work; and no finer example of his "Giorgionesque" phase is to be found than the sumptuous "Warrior adoring the Infant Christ," which hangs close by, whilst his delicate little "S. Jerome in his Study," also in the same room, challenges comparison. Catena's work seems cold and studied beside the warmth and spontaneity of Giorgione's little panel, which is, indeed, as Crowe and Cavalcaselle assert, "of the most picturesque beauty in distribution, colour, and costume."[70] It must date from before 1500, probably just before the Beaumont "Nativity," and proves how, even at that early time, Giorgione's art was rapidly maturing into full splendour.
The total list of genuine works so far amounts to but twenty-three. Let us see if we can accept a few others which later writers incline to attribute to the master. I propose to limit the survey strictly to those pictures which have found recognised champions among modern critics of repute, for to challenge every "Giorgione" in public and private collections would be a Herculean task, well calculated to provoke an incredulous smile!
Mr. Berenson, in his Venetian Painters, includes two other pictures in an extremely exclusive list of seventeen genuine Giorgiones. These are both in Venice, "The Christ bearing the Cross" (in S. Rocco), and "The Storm calmed by S. Mark" (in the Academy). The question whether or no we are to accept the former of these pictures has its origin in a curious contradiction of Vasari, who, in the first edition of his Lives (1550), names Giorgione as the painter, whilst in the second (1565), he assigns the authorship to Titian. Later writers follow the latter statement, and to this day the local guides adhere to this tradition. That the attribution to Giorgione, however, was still alive in 1620-5, is proved by the sketch of the picture made by the young Van Dyck during his visit to Italy, for he has affixed Giorgione's name to it, and not that of Titian.[71] I am satisfied that this tradition is correct. Giorgione, and not Titian, painted the still lovely head of Christ, and Giorgione, not Titian, drew the arm and hand of the Jew who is dragging at the rope. Characteristic touches are to be seen in the turn of the head, the sloping axis of the eyes, and especially the fine oval of the face, and bushy hair. This is the type of Giorgione's Christ; "The Tribute Money" (at Dresden) shows Titian's. Unfortunately the panel has lost all its tone, all its glow, and most of its original colour, and we can scarcely any longer admire the picture which, in Vasari's graphic language, "is held in the highest veneration by many of the faithful, and even performs miracles, as is frequently seen"; and again (in his Life of Titian), "it has received more crowns as offerings than have been earned by Titian and Giorgione both, through the whole course of their lives."
The other picture included by Mr. Berenson in his list is the large canvas in the Venice Academy, with "The Storm calmed by S. Mark." According to this critic it is a late work, finished, in small part, by Paris Bordone. In my opinion, it would be far wiser to withhold definite judgment in a case where a picture has been so entirely repainted. Certainly, in its present state, it is impossible to recognise Giorgione's touch, whilst the glaring red tones of the flesh and the general smeariness of the whole render all enjoyment out of question. I am willing to admit that the conception may have been Giorgione's, although even then it would stand alone as evidence of an imagination almost Michelangelesque in its terribilita. Zanetti (1760) was the first to connect Giorgione's name with this canvas, Vasari bestowing inordinate praise upon it as the work of Palma Vecchio! It only remains to add that this is the companion piece to the well-known "Fisherman presenting the Ring to the Doge," by Paris Bordone, which also hangs in the Venice Academy. Both illustrate the same legend, and both originally hung in the Scuola di S. Marco.
Finally, two cassone panels in the gallery at Padua have been acclaimed by Signor Venturi as the master's own,[72] and with that view I am entirely agreed. The stories represented are not easily determinable (as is so often the case with Giorgione), but probably refer to the legends of Adonis.[73] The splendour of colour, the lurid light, the richness of effect, are in the highest degree impressive. What artist but Giorgione would have so revelled in the glories of the evening sunset, the orange horizon, the distant blue hills? The same gallery affords several instances of similar decorative pieces by other Venetian artists which serve admirably to show the great gulf fixed in quality between Giorgione's work and that of the Schiavones, the Capriolis, and others who imitated him.[74]
NOTES:
[11] Oxford Lecture, reported in the Pall Mall Gazette, Nov. 10, 1884.
[12] See postea, p. 63.
[13] Bellini adopted it later in his S. Giov. Crisostomo altar-piece of 1513.
[14] All the more surprising is it that it receives no mention from Vasari, who merely states that the master worked at Castelfranco.
[15] I unhesitatingly adopt the titles recently given to these pictures by Herr Franz Wickhoff (Jahrbuch der Preussischen Kunstsammlungen, Heft. i. 1895), who has at last succeeded in satisfactorily explaining what has puzzled all the writers since the days of the Anonimo.
[16] Statius: Theb. iv. 730 ff. See p. 135.
[17] Aen. viii. 306-348.
[18] Fry: Giovanni Bellini, p. 39.
[19] ii. 214.
[20] Ridolfi mentions the following as having been painted by Giorgione:—"The Age of Gold," "Deucalion and Pyrrha," "Jove hurling Thunderbolts at the Giants," "The Python," "Apollo and Daphne," "Io changed into a Cow," "Phaeton, Diana, and Calisto," "Mercury stealing Apollo's Arms," "Jupiter and Pasiphae," "Cadmus sowing the Dragon's Teeth," "Dejanira raped by Nessus," and various episodes in the life of Adonis.
[21] In the Venice Academy.
[22] Archivio, Anno VI., where reproductions of the two are given side by side, fasc. vi. p. 412.
[23] The Berlin example (by the Pseudo-Basaiti) is reproduced in the Illustrated Catalogue of the recent exhibition of Renaissance Art at Berlin; the Rovigo version (under Leonardo's name!) is possibly by Bissolo.
Two other repetitions exist, one at Stuttgart, the other in the collection of Sir William Farrer. (Venetian Exhibition, New Gallery, 1894, No. 76.)
[24] Gentile Bellini's three portraits in the National Gallery (Nos. 808, 1213, 1440) illustrate this growing tendency in Venetian art; all three probably date from the first years of the sixteenth century. Gentile died in 1507.
[25] Berenson: Venetian Painters, 3rd edition.
[26] Daily Telegraph, December 29th, 1899.
[27] Even the so-called Pseudo-Basaiti has been separated and successfully diagnosed.
[28] 1895 Catalogue.
[29] See Appendix, where the letters are printed in full.
[30] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 142, and note.
[31] Giorgione painted in fresco in the portico of this palace. Zanetti has preserved the record of a figure said to be "Diligence," in his print published in 1760.
[32] See Byron's Life and Letters, by Thomas Moore, p. 705.
[33] See Berenson's Venetian Painters, illustrated edition.
[34] Morelli, ii. 219.
[35] See p. 32 for a possible explanation of these letters.
[36] ii. 218
[37] It has been suggested to me by Dr. Williamson that the letters may possibly be intended for ZZ (=Zorzon). In old MSS. the capital Z is sometimes made thus [closed V] or V.
[38] i. 248.
[39] The methods by which he arrived at his conclusion are strangely at variance with those he so strenuously advocates, and to which the name of Morellian has come to be attached.
[40] Reproduced in Venetian Art at the New Gallery, under Giorgione's name, but unanimously recognised as a work of Licinio.
[41] i. 249.
[42] Dr. Bode and Signor Venturi both recognise it as Giorgione's work.
[43] To what depths of vulgarity the Venetian School could sink in later times, Palma Giovane's "Venus" at Cassel testifies.
[44] Repertorium fuer Kunstwissenschaft. 1896. xix. Band. 6 Heft.
[45] North American Review, October 1899.
[46] It was photographed by Braun with this attribution.
[47] Catena has adopted this Giorgionesque conception in his "Judith" in the Querini-Stampalia Gallery in Venice.
[48] See Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1897, tom, xviii. p. 279.
[49] See Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1893, tom. ix. p. 135 (Prof. Wickhoff); 1894, tom. xii. p. 332 (Dr. Gronau); and Repertorium fuer Kunstwissenschaft, tom. xiv. p. 316 (Herr von Seidlitz).
[50] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 147.
[51] ii. 217.
[52] Dr. Gronau points this out in Rep. xviii. 4, p. 284.
[53] See Guide to the Italian Pictures at Hampton Court, by Mary Logan, 1894.
[54] Official Catalogue, and Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 502.
[55] Pater: The Renaissance, p. 158.
[56] ii. 219.
[57] The execution of this grotesque picture is probably due to Girolamo da Carpi, or some other assistant of Dosso.
[58] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 292, unaccountably suggested Francesco Vecellio (!) as the author.
[59] The subject is derived from a passage in the De Divinitate of Cicero, as Herr Wickhoff has pointed out.
[60] See Venetian Painting at the New Gallery. 1895.
[61] Unless we are to suppose that Vasari mistook a copy for an original.
[62] Francesco Torbido, called "il Moro," born about 1490, and still living in 1545. Vasari states that he actually worked under Giorgione. Signed portraits by him are in the Brera, at Munich, and Naples. Palma Vecchio also deserves serious consideration as possible author of the "Shepherd Boy."
[63] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 144.
[64] Morelli, ii. 212.
[65] See Appendix, p. 123.
[66] Quoted by Morelli, ii. 212, note.
[67] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 155.
[68] Crowe and Cavalcaselle also cite a portrait in the Casa Ajata at Crespano; as I have never seen this piece I cannot discuss it. It was apparently unknown to Morelli, nor is it mentioned by other critics.
[69] Morelli, ii. 205.
[70] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 128. Mr. Claude Phillips, in the Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1884, p. 286, rightly admits Giorgione's authorship.
[71] This sketch is to be found in Van Dyck's note-book, now in possession of the Duke of Devonshire at Chatsworth. It is here reproduced, failing an illustration of the original picture, which the authorities in Venice decline to have made. (A good reproduction has now (1903) been made by Anderson of Rome.)
[72] Archivio Storico, vi. 409.
[73] Ridolfi tells us Giorgione painted, among a long list of decorative pieces, "The Birth of Adonis," "Venus and Adonis embracing," and "Adonis killed by the Boar." It is possible he was alluding to these very cassone panels.
[74] The other important additions made by Signor Venturi in his recent volume, La Galleria Crespi, are alluded to in loco, further on. I am delighted to find some of my own views anticipated in a wholly independent fashion.
CHAPTER III
INTERMEDIATE SUMMARY
It is necessary for anyone who seeks to recover the missing or unidentified works of an artist like Giorgione, first to define his conception of the artist based upon a study of acknowledged materials. The preceding chapter has been devoted to a survey of the best authenticated pictures, the evidence for the genuineness of which is, as we have seen, largely a matter of personal opinion. Nevertheless there is, on the whole, a unanimity of judgment sufficient to warrant our drawing several inferences as to the general character of Giorgione's work, and to attempt a chronological arrangement of the twenty-six pictures here accepted as genuine.
The first and most obvious fact then to be noted is the amazing variety of subjects handled by the master. Religious paintings, whether altar-pieces or easel pictures of a devotional character, are interspersed with mediaeval allegories, genre subjects, decorative cassone panels, portraiture, and purely lyrical "Fantasiestuecke," corresponding somewhat with the modern "Landscape with Figures." Truly an astonishing range! Giorgione, as we have seen, could not have been more than eighteen years in active practice, yet in that short time he gained successes in all these various fields. His many-sidedness shows him to have been a man of wide sympathies, whilst the astonishing rapidity of his development testifies to the precocity of his talent. His versatility and his precocity are, in fact, the two most prominent characteristics to be borne in mind in judging his art, for much that appears at first sight incongruous, if not utterly irreconcilable, can be explained on this basis. For versatility and precocity in an artist are qualities invariably attended by unevenness of workmanship, as we see in the cases of Keats and Schubert, who were gifted with the lyrical temperament and powers of expression in poetry and music in corresponding measure to Giorgione in painting. It would show want of critical acumen to expect from Keats the consistency of Milton, or that Schubert should keep the unvarying high level of Beethoven, and it is equally unreasonable to exact from Giorgione the uniform excellence which characterises Titian. I do not propose at this point to work out the comparison between the painter, the musician, and the poet; this must be reserved until the final summing-up of Giorgione as artist, when we have examined all his work. But this point I do insist on, that from the very nature of things Giorgione's art is, and must be, uneven, that whilst at times it reaches sublime heights, at other times it attains to a level of only average excellence.
And so the criticism which condemns a picture claiming to be Giorgione's because "it is not good enough for him," does not recognise the truth that for all that it may be characteristic, and, consequently, perfectly authentic. Modern criticism has been apt to condemn because it has expected too much; let us not blind our eyes to the weaknesses, even to the failures of great men, who, if they lose somewhat of the hero in our eyes, win our sympathy and our love the more for being human.
I have spoken of Giorgione's versatility, his precocity, and the natural inequality of his work. There is another characteristic which commonly exists when these qualities are found united, and that is Productiveness. Giorgione, according to all analogy, must have produced a mass of work. It is idle to assert, as some modern writers have done, that at the utmost his easel pictures could have been but few, because most of his short life was devoted to painting frescoes, which have perished. It is true that Giorgione spent time and energy over fresco painting, and from the very publicity of such work as the frescoes on the Fondaco de' Tedeschi, he came to be widely known in this direction, but it is infinitely probable that his output in other branches was enormous. The twenty-six pictures we have already accepted, plus the lost frescoes, cannot possibly represent the sum-total of his artistic activities, and to say that everything else has disappeared is, as I shall try to show, not correct. We know, moreover, from the Anonimo (who was almost Giorgione's contemporary) that many pictures existed in his day which cannot now be traced,[75] and if we add these and some of the others cited by Vasari and Ridolfi (without assuming that every one was a genuine example), it goes to prove that Giorgione did paint a good number of easel pictures. But the evidence of the twenty-six themselves is conclusive. They illustrate so many different phases, they stand sometimes so widely apart, that intermediate links are necessarily implied. Moreover, as Giorgione's influence on succeeding artists is allowed by all writers, a considerable number of his easel pictures must have been in circulation, from which these imitators drew inspiration, for he certainly never kept, as Bellini did, a body of assistants and pupils to hand on his teaching, and disseminate his style.
Productiveness must then have been a feature of his art, and as so few pictures have as yet come to be accepted as genuine, the majority must have perished or been lost to sight for the time. That much yet remains hidden away in private possession I am fully persuaded, especially in England and in Italy, and one day we may yet find the originals of the several old copies after Giorgione which I enumerate elsewhere.[76] In some cases I believe I have been fortunate enough to detect actually missing originals, and occasionally restore to Giorgione pieces that parade under Titian's name. Much, however, yet remains to be done, and the research work now being systematically conducted in the Venetian archives by Dr. Gustav Ludwig and Signor Pietro Paoletti may yield rich results in the discovery of documents relating to the master himself, which may help us to identify his productions, and possibly confirm some of the conjectures I venture to make in the following chapters.[77]
But before proceeding to examine other pictures which I am persuaded really emanate from Giorgione himself, let us attempt to place in approximate chronological order the twenty-six works already accepted as genuine, for, once their sequence is established, we shall the more readily detect the lacunae in the artist's evolution, and so the more easily recognise any missing transitional pieces which may yet exist.
The earliest stage in Giorgione's career is naturally marked by adherence to the teaching and example of his immediate predecessors. However precocious he may have been, however free from academic training, however independent of the tradition of the schools, he nevertheless clearly betrays an artistic dependence, above all, on Giovanni Bellini. The "Christ bearing the Cross" and the two little pictures in the Uffizi are direct evidence of this, and these, therefore, must be placed quite early in his career. We should not be far wrong in dating them 1493-5. Carpaccio's influence is also apparent, as we have already noticed, and through this channel Giorgione's art connects with the more archaic style of Gentile Bellini, Giovanni's elder brother. Thus in him are united the quattrocentist tradition and the fresher ideals of the cinquecento, which found earliest expression in Giambellini's Allegories of about 1486-90. The poetic element in these works strongly appealed to Giorgione's sensitive nature, and we find him developing this side of his art in the Beaumont "Adoration," and the National Gallery "Epiphany," both of which are clearly early productions. But there is a gap of a few years between the Uffizi pictures and the London ones, for the latter are maturer in every way, and it is clear that the interval must have been spent in constant practice. Yet we cannot point with certainty to any of the other pictures in our list as standing midway in development, and here it is that a lacuna exists in the artist's career. Two or three years, possibly more, remain unaccounted for, just at a period, too, when the young artist would be most impressionable. I am inclined to think that he may have painted the "Birth of Paris" during these years, but we have only the copy of a part of the composition to go by, and the statement of the Anonimo that the picture was one of Giorgione's early works.
The "Adrastus and Hypsipyle" must also be a youthful production prior to 1500, and in the direction of portraiture we have the Berlin "Young Man," which, for reasons already given, must be placed quite early. It is not possible to assign exact dates to any of these works, all that can be said with any certainty is that they fall within the last decade of the fifteenth century, and illustrate the rapid development of Giorgione's art up to his twenty-fourth year.
A further stage in his evolution is reached in the Castelfranco "Madonna," the first important undertaking of which we have some record. Tradition connects the painting of this altar-piece with an event of the year 1504, the death of the young Matteo Costanzo, whose family, so it is said, commissioned Giorgione to paint a memorial altar-piece, and decorate the family chapel at Castelfranco with frescoes. Certain it is that the arms of the Costanzi appear in the picture, but the evidence which connects the commission with the death of Matteo seems to rest mainly on his alleged likeness to the S. Liberale in the picture, a theory, we may remark, which is quite consistent with Matteo being still alive. Considering the extraordinary rapidity of the artist's development, it would be more natural to place the execution of this work a year or two earlier than 1504, but, in any case, we may accept it as typical of Giorgione's style in the first years of the century. The "Judith" (at St. Petersburg), as we have already seen, probably immediately precedes it, so that we get two masterpieces approximately dated.
In the field of portraiture Giorgione must have made rapid strides from the very first. Vasari states that he painted the portraits of the great Consalvo Ferrante, and of one of his captains, on the occasion of their visit to the Doge Agostino Barberigo. Now this event presumably took place in 1500,[78] so that, at that early date, he seems already to have been a portrait painter of repute. Confirmatory evidence of this is furnished by the statement of Ridolfi, that Giorgione took the portrait of Agostino Barberigo himself.[79] Now the Doge died in 1500, so that if Giorgione really painted him, he could not have been more than twenty-three years of age at the time, an extraordinarily early age to have been honoured with so important a commission; this fact certainly presupposes successes with other patrons, whose portraits Giorgione must have taken during the years 1495-1500. I hope to be able to identify two or three of these, but for the moment we may note that by 1500 Giorgione was a recognised master of portraiture. The only picture on our list likely to date from the period 1500-1504 is the "Knight of Malta," the "Young Man" (at Buda-Pesth) being later in execution.[80]
From 1504 on, the rapid rate of progress is more than fully maintained. Only six years remain of the artist's short life, yet in that time he rose to full power, and anticipated the splendid achievements of Titian's maturity some forty years later. First in order, probably, come the "Venus" (Dresden) and the "Concert" (Pitti), both showing originality of conception and mastery of handling. The date of the frescoes on the Fondaco de' Tedeschi is known to be 1507-8,[81] but, as nothing remains but a few patches of colour in one spot high up over the Grand Canal, we have no visible clue to guide us in our estimate of their artistic worth. Vasari's description, and Zanetti's engraving of a few fragments (done in 1760, when the frescoes were already in decay), go to prove that Giorgione at this period studied the antique, "commingling statuesque classicism and the flesh and blood of real life."[82]
At this period it is most probable we must place the "Judgment of Solomon" (at Kingston Lacy), possibly, as I have already pointed out, the very work commissioned by the State for the audience chamber of the Council, on which, as we know from documents, Giorgione was engaged in 1507 and 1508. It was never finished, and the altogether exceptional character of the work places it outside the regular course of the artist's development. It was an ambitious venture in an unwonted direction, and is naturally marked and marred by unsatisfactory features. Giorgione's real powers are shown by the "Pastoral Symphony" (in the Louvre), and the "Portrait of the Young Man" (at Buda-Pesth), productions dating from the later years 1508-10. The "Three Ages" (in the Pitti) may also be included, and if Giorgione conceived and even partly executed the "Storm calmed by S. Mark" (Venice Academy), this also must be numbered among his last works.
Morelli states: "It was only in the last six years of his short life (from about 1505-11) that Giorgione's power and greatness became fully developed."[83] I think this is true in the sense that Giorgione was ever steadily advancing towards a fuller and riper understanding of the world, that his art was expanding into a magnificence which found expression in larger forms and richer colour, that he was acquiring greater freedom of touch, and more perfect command of the technical resources of his art. But sufficient stress is not laid, I think, upon the masterly achievement of the earlier times; the tendency is to refer too much to later years, and not recognise sufficiently the prodigious precocity before 1500. One is tempted at times to question the accuracy of Vasari's statement that Giorgione died in his thirty-fourth year, which throws his birth back only to 1477. Some modern writers disregard this statement altogether, and place his birth "before 1477."[84] Be this as it may, it does not alter the fact that by 1500 Giorgione had already attained in portraiture to the highest honours, and in this sphere, I believe, he won his earliest successes. My object in the following chapter will be to endeavour to point out some of the very portraits, as yet unidentified, which I am persuaded were produced by Giorgione chiefly in these earlier years, and thus partly to fill some of the lacunae we have found in tracing his artistic evolution.
NOTES:
[75] A list of these is given at p. 138.
[76] Vide List of Works, pp. 124-137.
[77] The results of these archivistic researches are being published in the Repertorium fuer Kunstwissenschaft.
[78] For the evidence, see Magazine of Art, April 1893.
[79] Meravig, i. 126.
[80] Vasari saw Giorgione's portrait of the succeeding Doge Leonardo Loredano (1501-1521).
[81] See Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 141.
[82] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ibid.
[83] ii. 213. We now know that he died in 1510.
[84] Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii. 119. Bode: Cicerone.
CHAPTER IV
ADDITIONAL PICTURES—PORTRAITS
Vasari, in his Life of Titian, in the course of a somewhat confused account of the artist's earliest years, tells us how Titian, "having seen the manner of Giorgione, early resolved to abandon that of Gian Bellino, although well grounded therein. He now, therefore, devoted himself to this purpose, and in a short time so closely imitated Giorgione that his pictures were sometimes taken for those of that master, as will be related below." And he goes on: "At the time when Titian began to adopt the manner of Giorgione, being then not more than eighteen, he took the portrait of a gentleman of the Barberigo family who was his friend, and this was considered very beautiful, the colouring being true and natural, and the hair so distinctly painted that each one could be counted, as might also the stitches[85] in a satin doublet, painted in the same work; in a word, it was so well and carefully done, that it would have been taken for a picture by Giorgione, if Titian had not written his name on the dark ground." Now the statement that Titian began to imitate Giorgione at the age of eighteen is inconsistent with Vasari's own words of a few paragraphs previously: "About the year 1507, Giorgione da Castel Franco, not being satisfied with that mode of proceeding (i.e. 'the dry, hard, laboured manner of Gian Bellino, which Titian also acquired'), began to give to his works an unwonted softness and relief, painting them in a very beautiful manner.... Having seen the manner of Giorgione, Titian now devoted himself to this purpose," etc. In 1507 Titian was thirty years old,[86] not eighteen, so that both statements cannot be correct. Now it is highly improbable that Titian had already discarded the manner of Bellini as early as 1495, at the age of eighteen, and had so identified himself with Giorgione that their work was indistinguishable. Everything, on the contrary, points to Titian's evolution being anything but rapid; in fact, so far as records go, there is no mention of his name until he painted the facade of the Fondaco de' Tedeschi in company with Giorgione in 1507. It is infinitely more probable that Vasari's first statement is the more reliable—viz. that Titian began to adopt Giorgione's manner about the year 1507, and it follows, therefore, that the portrait of the gentleman of the Barberigo family, if by Titian, dates from this time, and not 1495.
Now there is a picture in the Earl of Darnley's Collection at Cobham Hall which answers pretty closely to Vasari's description. It is a supposed portrait of Ariosto by Titian, but it is as much unlike the court poet of Ferrara as the portrait in the National Gallery (No. 636) which, with equal absurdity, long passed for that of Ariosto, a name now wisely removed from the label. This magnificent portrait at Cobham was last exhibited at the Old Masters in 1895, and the suggestion was then made that it might be the very picture mentioned by Vasari in the passage quoted above.[87] I believe this ingenious suggestion is correct, and that we have in the Cobham "Ariosto" the portrait of one of the Barberigo family said to have been painted by Titian in the manner of Giorgione. "Thoroughly Giorgionesque," says Mr. Claude Phillips, in his Life of Titian, "is the soberly tinted yet sumptuous picture in its general arrangement, as in its general tone, and in this respect it is the fitting companion and the descendant of Giorgione's 'Antonio Broccardo' at Buda-Pesth, of his 'Knight of Malta' at the Uffizi. Its resemblance, moreover, is, as regards the general lines of the composition, a very striking one to the celebrated Sciarra 'Violin-Player,' by Sebastiano del Piombo.... The handsome, manly head has lost both subtlety and character through some too severe process of cleaning, but Venetian art has hardly anything more magnificent to show than the costume, with the quilted sleeve of steely, blue-grey satin, which occupies so prominent a place in the picture." Its Giorgionesque character is therefore recognised by this writer, as also by Dr. Georg Gronau, in his recent Life of Titian (p. 21), who significantly remarks, "Its relation to the 'Portrait of a Young Man' by Giorgione, at Berlin, is obvious."
It is a pity that both these discerning writers of the modern school have not gone a little further and seen that the picture before them is not only Giorgionesque, but by Giorgione himself. The mistake of confusing Titian and Giorgione is as old as Vasari, who, misled by the signature, naively remarks, "It would have been taken for a picture by Giorgione if Titian had not written his name on the dark ground (in ombra)." Hinc illae lacrimae! Let us look into this question of signatures, the ultimate and irrevocable proof in the minds of the innocent that a picture must be genuine. Titian's methods of signing his well-authenticated works varied at different stages of his career. The earliest signature is always "Ticianus," and this is found on works dating down to 1522 (the "S. Sebastian" at Brescia). The usual signature of the later time is "Titianus," probably the earliest picture with it being the Ancona altar-piece of 1520. "Tician" is found only twice. Now, without necessarily condemning every signature which does not accord with this practice, we must explain any apparent irregularity, such, for instance, as the "Titianus F." on the Cobham Hall picture. This form of signature points to the period after 1520, a date manifestly inconsistent with the style of painting. But there is more than this to arouse suspicion. The signature has been painted over another, or rather, the F. (= fecit)[88] is placed over an older V, which can still be traced. A second V appears further to the right. It looks as if originally the balustrade only bore the double V, and that "Titianus F." were added later. But it was there in Vasari's day (1544), so that we arrive at the interesting conclusion that Titian's signature must have been added between 1520 and 1544—that is, in his own lifetime. This singular fact opens up a new chapter in the history of Titian's relationship to Giorgione, and points to practices well calculated to confuse historians of a later time, and enhance the pupil's reputation at the expense of the deceased master. Not that Titian necessarily appropriated Giorgione's work, and passed it off as his own, but we know that on the latter's death Titian completed several of his unfinished pictures, and in one instance, we are told, added a Cupid to Giorgione's "Venus." It may be that this was the case with the "Ariosto," and that Titian felt justified in adding his signature on the plea of something he did to it in after years; but, explain this as we may, the important point to recognise is that in all essential particulars the "Ariosto" is the creation not of Titian, but of Giorgione. How is this to be proved? It will be remembered that when discussing whether Giorgione or Titian painted the Pitti "Concert," the "Giorgionesque" qualities of the work were so obvious that it seemed going out of the way to introduce Titian's name, as Morelli did, and ascribe the picture to him in a Giorgionesque phase. It is just the same here. The conception is typically Giorgione's own, the thoughtful, dreamy look, the turn of the head, the refinement and distinction of this wonderful figure alike proclaim him; whilst in the workmanship the quilted satin is exactly paralleled by the painting of the dress in the Berlin and Buda-Pesth portraits. Characteristic of Giorgione but not of Titian, is the oval of the face, the construction of the head, the arrangement of the hair. Titian, so far as I am aware, never introduces a parapet or ledge into his portraits, Giorgione nearly always does so; and finally we have the mysterious VV which is found on the Berlin portrait, and (half-obliterated) on the Buda-Pesth "Young Man." In short, no one would naturally think of Titian were it not for the misleading signature, and I venture to hope competent judges will agree with me that the proofs positive of Giorgione's authorship are of greater weight than a signature which—for reasons given—is not above suspicion.[89]
Before I leave this wonderful portrait of a gentleman of the Barberigo family (so says Vasari), a word as to its date is necessary. The historian tells us it was painted by Titian at the age of eighteen. Clearly some tradition existed which told of the youthfulness of the painter, but may we assume that Giorgione was only eighteen at the time? That would throw the date back to 1495. Is it possible he can have painted this splendid head so early in his career? The freedom of handling, and the mastery of technique certainly suggests a rather later stage, but I am inclined to believe Giorgione was capable of this accomplishment before 1500. The portrait follows the Berlin "Young Man," and may well take its place among the portraits which, as we have seen, Giorgione must have painted during the last decade of the century prior to receiving his commission to paint the Doge. And in this connection it is of special interest to find the Doge was himself a Barberigo. May we not conclude that the success of this very portrait was one of the immediate causes which led to Giorgione obtaining so flattering a commission from the head of the State?
I mentioned incidentally that four repetitions of the "Ariosto" exist, all derived presumably from the Cobham original. We have a further striking proof of the popularity of this style of portraiture in a picture belonging to Mr. Benson, exhibited at the Venetian Exhibition, New Gallery, 1894-5, where the painter, whoever he may be, has apparently been inspired by Giorgione's original. The conception is wholly Giorgionesque, but the hardness of contour and the comparative lack of quality in the touch betrays another and an inferior hand. Nevertheless the portrait is of great interest, for could we but imagine it as fine in execution as in conception we should have an original Giorgione portrait before us. The features are curiously like those of the Barberigo gentleman.
* * * * *
In his recently published Life of Titian, Dr. Gronau passes from the consideration of the Cobham Hall picture immediately to that of the "Portrait of a Lady," known as "La Schiavona," in the collection of Signor Crespi in Milan. In his opinion these two works are intimately related to one another, and of them he significantly writes thus: "The influence of Giorgione upon Titian" (to whom he ascribes both portraits) "is evident. The connection can be traced even in the details of the treatment and technique. The separate touches of light on the gold-striped head-dress which fastens back the lady's beautiful dark hair, the variegated scarf thrown lightly round her waist, the folds of the sleeves, the hand with the finger-tips laid on the parapet: all these details might indicate the one master as well as the other."[90]
The transition from the Cobham Hall portrait to the "Lady" in the Crespi Collection is, to my mind, also a natural and proper one. The painter of the one is the painter of the other. Tradition is herein also perfectly consistent, and tradition has in each case a plausible signature to support it. The TITIANVS F. of the former portrait is paralleled by the T.V.—i.e. Titianus Vecellio, or Titianus Veneziano of the latter.[91] I have already dealt at some length with the question of the former signature, which appears to have been added actually during Titian's lifetime; in the present instance the letters appear almost, if not quite, coeval with the rest of the painting, and were undoubtedly intended for Titian's signature. The cases, therefore, are so far parallel, and the question naturally arises, Did Titian really have any hand in the painting of this portrait? Signor Venturi[92] strongly denies it; to him the T.V. matters nothing, and he boldly proclaims Licinio the author.
I confess the matter is not thus lightly to be disposed of; there is no valid reason to doubt the antiquity of the inscription, which, on the analogy of the Cobham Hall picture, may well have been added in Titian's own lifetime, and for the same reason that I there suggested—viz. that Titian had in some way or other a hand in the completion, or may be the alteration, of his deceased master's work.[93] For it is my certain conviction that the painter of the Crespi "Lady" is none other than Giorgione himself.
Before, however, discussing the question of authorship, it is a matter of some moment to be able to identify the lady represented. An old tradition has it that this is Caterina Cornaro, and, in my judgment, this is perfectly correct.[94] Fortunately, we possess several well-authenticated likenesses of this celebrated daughter of the Republic. She had been married to the King of Cyprus, and after his death had relinquished her quasi-sovereign rights in favour of Venice. She then returned home (in 1489) and retired to Asolo, near Castelfranco, where she passed a quiet country life, enjoying the society of the poets and artists of the day, and reputed for her kindliness and geniality. Her likeness is to be seen in three contemporary paintings:—
1. At Buda-Pesth, by Gentile Bellini, with inscription.
2. In the Venice Academy, also by Gentile Bellini, who introduces her and her attendant ladies kneeling in the foreground, to the left, in his well-known "Miracle of the True Cross," dated 1500.
3. In the Berlin Gallery, by Jacopo de' Barbari, where she appears kneeling in a composition of the "Madonna and Child and Saints."
Finally we see Caterina Cornaro in a bust in the Pourtales Collection at Berlin, here reproduced,[95] seen full face, as in the Crespi portrait. I know not on what outside authority the identification rests in the case of the bust, but it certainly appears to represent the same lady as in the above-mentioned pictures, and is rightly accepted as such by modern German critics.[96]
To my eyes, we have the same lady in the Crespi portrait. Mr. Berenson, unaware of the identity, thus describes her:[97] "Une grande dame italienne est devant nous, eclatante de sante et de magnificence, energique, debordante, pleine d'une chaude sympathie, source de vie et de joie pour tous ceux qui l'entourent, et cependant reflechie, penetrante, un peu ironique bien qu'indulgente."
Could a better description be given to fit the character of Caterina Cornaro, as she is known to us in history? How little likely, moreover, that tradition should have dubbed this homely person the ex-Queen of Cyprus had it not been the truth!
Now, if my contention is correct, chronology determines a further point. Caterina died in 1510, so that this likeness of her (which is clearly taken from life) must have been done in or before the first decade of the sixteenth century.[98] This excludes Licinio and Schiavone (both of whom have been suggested as the artist), for the latter was not even born, and the former—whose earliest known picture is dated 1520—must have been far too young in 1510 to have already achieved so splendid a result. Palma is likewise excluded, so that we are driven to choose between Titian and Giorgione, the only two Venetian artists capable of such a masterpiece before 1510.
As to which of these two artists it is, opinions—so far as any have been published—are divided. Yet Dr. Gronau, who claims it for Titian, admits in the same breath that the hand is the same as that which painted the Cobham Hall picture and the Pitti "Concert," a judgment in which I fully concur. Dr. Bode[99] labels it "Art des Giorgione." Finally, Mr. Berenson, with rare insight proclaimed the conception and the spirit of the picture to be Giorgione's.[100] But he asserts that the execution is not fine enough to be the master's own, and would rank it—with the "Judith" at St. Petersburg—in the category of contemporary copies after lost originals. This view is apparently based on the dangerous maxim that where the execution of a picture is inferior to the conception, the work is presumably a copy. But two points must be borne in mind, the actual condition of the picture, and the character of the artist who painted it. Mr. Berenson has himself pointed out elsewhere[101] that Giorgione, "while always supreme in his conceptions, did not live long enough to acquire a perfection of draughtsmanship and chiaroscuro equally supreme, and that, consequently, there is not a single universally accepted work of his which is absolutely free from the reproaches of the academic pedant." Secondly, the surface of this portrait has lost its original glow through cleaning, and has suffered other damage, which actually debarred Crowe and Cavalcaselle (who saw the picture in 1877) from pronouncing definitely upon the authorship. The eyes and flesh, they say,[102] were daubed over, the hair was new, the colour modern. A good deal of this "restoration" has since been removed, but the present appearance of the panel bears witness to the harsh treatment suffered years ago. Nevertheless, the original work is before us, and not a copy of a lost original, and Mr. Berenson's enthusiastic praise ought to be lavished on the actual picture as it must have appeared in all its freshness and purity. "Je n'hesiterais pas," he declares,[103] "a le proclamer le plus important des portraits du maitre, un chef-d'oeuvre ne le cedant a aucun portrait d'aucun pays ou d'aucun temps."
And certainly Giorgione has created a masterpiece. The opulence of Rubens and the dignity of Titian are most happily combined with a delicacy and refinement such as Giorgione alone can impart. The intense grasp of character here displayed, the exquisite intimite, places this wonderful creation of his on the highest level of portraiture. There is far less of that moody abstraction which awakens our interest in most of his portraits, but much greater objective truth, arising from that perfect sympathy between artist and sitter, which is of the first importance in portrait-painting. History tells us of the friendly encouragement the young Castelfrancan received at the hands of this gracious lady, and he doubtless painted this likeness of her in her country home at Asolo, near to Castelfranco, and we may well imagine with what eagerness he acquitted himself of so flattering a commission. Vasari tells us that he saw a portrait of Caterina, Queen of Cyprus, painted by Giorgione from the life, in the possession of Messer Giovanni Cornaro. I believe that picture to be the very one we are now discussing.[104] The documents quoted by Signor Venturi[105] do not go back beyond 1640, so that it is, of course, impossible to prove the identity, but the expression "from the life" (as opposed to Titian's posthumous portrait of her) applies admirably to our likeness. What a contrast to the formal presentation of the queenly lady, crown and jewels and all, that Gentile Bellini has left us in his portrait of her now at Buda-Pesth!—and in that other picture of his where she is seen kneeling in royal robes, with her train of court ladies, as though attending a state function! How Giorgione has penetrated through all outward show, and revealed the charm of manner, the delightful bonhomie of his royal patroness!
We are enabled, by a simple calculation of dates, to fix approximately the period when this portrait was painted. Gentile Bellini's picture of "The Miracle of the True Cross" is dated 1500—that is, when Caterina Cornaro was forty-six years old (she was born in 1454). In Signor Crespi's picture she appears, if anything, younger in appearance, so that, at latest, Giorgione painted her portrait in 1500. Thus, again, we arrive at the same conclusion, that the master distinguished himself very early in his career in the field of portraiture, and the similarity in style between this portrait and the Cobham Hall one is accounted for on chronological grounds. All things considered, it is very probable that this portrait was his earliest real success, and proved a passport to the favourable notice of the fashionable society of Venice, leading to the commission to paint the Doge, and the Gran Signori, who visited the capital in the year 1500. That Giorgione was capable of such an achievement before his twenty-fourth year constitutes, we may surely admit, his strongest right to the title of Genius.[106]
The Barberigo gentleman and the Caterina Cornaro are comparatively unfamiliar, owing to their seclusion in private galleries. Not so the third portrait, which hangs in the National Gallery, and which, in my opinion, should be included among Giorgione's authentic productions. This is No. 636, "Portrait of a Poet," attributed to Palma Vecchio; and the catalogue continues: "This portrait of an unknown personage was formerly ascribed to Titian, and supposed to represent Ariosto; it has long since been recognised as a fine work by Palma." I certainly do not know by whom this portrait was first recognised as such, but as the transformation was suddenly effected one day under the late Sir Frederic Burton's regime, it is natural to suppose he initiated it. No one to-day would be found, I suppose, to support the older view, and the rechristening certainly received the approval of Morelli;[107] modern critics apparently acquiesce without demur, so that it requires no little courage to dissent from so unanimous an opinion. I confess, therefore, it was no small satisfaction to me to find the question had been raised by an independent inquirer, Mr. Dickes, who published in the Magazine of Art, 1893, the results of his investigations, the conclusion at which he arrived being that this is the portrait of Prospero Colonna, Liberator of Italy, painted by Giorgione in the year 1500.
Briefly stated, the argument is as follows:—
I. (1) The person represented closely resembles Prospero Colonna (1464-1523), whose authentic likeness is to be seen—
(a) In an engraving in Pompilio Totti's "Ritratti et Elogie di Capitani illustri. Rome, 1635."
(b) In a bust in the Colonna Gallery, Rome.
(c) In an engraving in the "Columnensium Procerum" of the Abbas Domenicus de Santis. Rome, 1675.
(All three are reproduced in the article in question.)
(2) The description of Prospero Colonna, given by Pompilio Totti (in the above book) tallies with our portrait.
(3) The accessories in the picture confirm the identity—e.g. the St Andrew's Cross, or saltire, is on the Colonna family banner; the bay, emblem of victory, is naturally associated with a great captain; the rosary may refer to the fact of Prospero's residence as lay brother in the monastery of the Olivetani, near Fondi, which was rebuilt by him in 1500.
II. Admitting the identity of person, chronology determines the probable date of the execution of this portrait, for Prospero visited Venice presumably in the train of Consalvo Ferrante in 1500. He was then thirty-six years of age.
III. Assuming this date to be correct, no other Venetian artist but Giorgione was capable of producing so fine and admittedly "Giorgionesque" a portrait at so early a date.
IV. Internal evidence points to Giorgione's authorship.
It will be seen that the logic employed is identical with that by which I have tried to establish the identity of Signor Crespi's picture. In the present case, I should like to insist on the fourth consideration rather than on the other points, iconographical or chronological, and see how far our portrait bears on its face the impress of Giorgione's own spirit.
The conception, to begin with, is characteristic of him—the pensive charm, the feeling of reserve, the touch of fanciful imagination in the decorative accessories, but, above all, the extreme refinement. All this very naturally fits the portrait of a poet, and at a time when it was customary to label every portrait with a celebrated name, what more appropriate than Ariosto, the court poet of Ferrara? But this dreamy reserve, this intensity of suppressed feeling is characteristic of all Giorgione's male portraits, and is nowhere more splendidly expressed than in this lovely figure. Where can the like be found in Palma, or even Titian? Titian is more virile in his conception, less lyrical, less fanciful, Palma infinitely less subtle in characterisation. Both are below the level of Giorgione in refinement; neither ever made of a portrait such a thing of sheer beauty as this. If this be Palma's work, it stands alone, not only far surpassing his usual productions in quality, but revealing him in a wholly new phase; it is a difference not of degree, but of kind.
Positive proofs of Giorgione's hand are found in the way the hair is rendered—that lovely dark auburn hair so often seen in his work,—in the radiant oval of the face, contrasting so finely with the shadows, which are treated exactly as in the Cobham picture, only that here the chiaroscuro is more masterly, in the delicate modelling of the features, the pose of the head, and in the superb colour of the whole. In short, there is not a stroke that does not reveal the great master, and no other, and it is incredible that modern criticism has not long ago united in recognising Giorgione's handiwork.[10 8]
The date suggested—1500—is also consistent with our own deductions as to Giorgione's rapid development, and the distinguished character of his sitter—if it be Prospero Colonna—is quite in keeping with the vogue the artist was then enjoying, for it was in this very year, it will be remembered, that he painted the Doge Agostino Barberigo.
I therefore consider that Mr. Dickes' brilliant conjectures have much to support them, and, so far as the authorship is concerned, I unhesitatingly accept the view, which he was the first to express, that Giorgione, and no other, is the painter. Our National Collection therefore boasts, in my opinion, a masterpiece of his portraiture.
If it were not that Morelli, Mr. Berenson and others have recognised in the "Portrait of a Gentleman," in the Querini-Stampalia Gallery in Venice, the same hand as in the National Gallery picture, one might well hesitate to claim it for Giorgione, so repainted is its present condition. I make bold, however, to include it in my list, and the more readily as Signor Venturi definitely assigns it to Giorgione himself, whose name, moreover, it has always borne. This unfinished portrait is, despite its repaint, extraordinarily attractive, the rich browns and reds forming a colour-scheme of great beauty. It cannot compare, however, in quality with our National Gallery highly-finished example, to which it is also inferior in beauty of conception. These two portraits illustrate the variableness of the painter; both were probably done about the same time—the one seemingly con amore, the other left unfinished, as though the artist or his sitter were dissatisfied. Certainly the cause could not have been Giorgione's death, for the style is obviously early, probably prior to 1500.
The view expressed by Morelli[109] that this may be a portrait of one of the Querini family, who were Palma's patrons, has nothing tangible to support it, once Palma's authorship is contested. But the unimaginative Palma was surely incapable of such things as this and the National Gallery portrait!
England boasts, I believe, yet another magnificent original Giorgione portrait, and one that is probably totally unfamiliar to connoisseurs. This is the "Portrait of an Unknown Man," in the possession of the Hon. Mrs Meynell-Ingram at Temple Newsam in Yorkshire. A small and ill-executed print of it was published in the Magazine of Art, April 1893, where it was attributed to Titian. Its Giorgionesque character is apparent at first glance, and I venture to hope that all those who may be fortunate enough to study the original, as I have done, will recognise the touch of the great master himself. Its intense expression, its pathos, the distant look tinged with melancholy, remind us at once of the Buda-Pesth, the Borghese, and the (late) Casa Loschi pictures; its modelling vividly recalls the central figure of the Pitti "Concert," the painting of sleeve and gloves is like that in the National Gallery and Querini-Stampalia portraits just discussed. The general pose is most like that of the Borghese "Lady." The parapet, the wavy hair, the high cranium are all so many outward and visible signs of Giorgione's spirit, whilst none but he could have created such magnificent contrasts of colour, such effects of light and shade. This is indeed Giorgione, the great master, the magician who holds us all fascinated by his wondrous spell.
Last on the list of portraits which I am claiming as Giorgione's, and probably latest in date of execution, comes the splendid so-called "Physician Parma," in the Vienna Gallery. Crowe and Cavalcaselle thus describe it: "This masterly portrait is one of the noblest creations of its kind, finished with a delicacy quite surprising, and modelled with the finest insight into the modulations of the human flesh.... Notwithstanding, the touch and the treatment are utterly unlike Titian's, having none of his well-known freedom and none of his technical peculiarities. Yet if asked to name the artist capable of painting such a likeness, one is still at a loss. It is considered to be identical with the portrait mentioned by Ridolfi as that of 'Parma' in the collection of B. della Nave (Merav., i. 220); but this is not proved, nor is there any direct testimony to show that it is by Titian at all."[110]
Herr Wickhoff[111] goes a step further. He says: "Un autre portrait qui porte le nom de Titien est egalement l'une des oeuvres les plus remarquables du Musee. On pretend qu'il represente le 'Medecin du Titien, Parma'; mais c'est la une pure invention, imaginee par un ancien directeur du Musee, M. Rosa, et admise de confiance par ses successeurs. M. Rosa avait ete amene a la concevoir par la lecture d'un passage de Ridolfi. Le costume suffirait a lui seul, pourtant, pour la dementir: c'est le costume officiel d'un senateur venitien, et qui par suite ne saurait avoir ete porte par un medecin. Le tableau est incontestablement de la meme main que les deux 'Concerts' du Palais Pitti et du Louvre, qui portent tous deux le nom de Giorgione. Si l'on attribue ces deux tableaux au Giorgione, c'est a lui aussi qu'il faut attribuer le portrait de Vienne; si, comme feu Morelli, on attribue le tableau du Palais Pitti au Titien, il faut approuver l'attribution actuelle de notre portrait au meme maitre." I am glad that Herr Wickhoff recognises the same hand in all three works. I am sorry that in his opinion this should be Domenico Campagnola's. I have already referred to this opinion when discussing the Louvre "Concert," and must again emphatically dissent from this view. Campagnola, as I know him in his pictures and frescoes at Padua,—the only authenticated examples by which to judge him,[112]—was utterly inadequate to such tasks. The grandeur and dignity of the Vienna portrait is worthy of Titian, whose virility Giorgione more nearly approaches here than anywhere else. But I agree with the verdict of Crowe and Cavalcaselle that his is not the hand that painted it, and believe that the author of the Temple Newsam "Man" also produced this portrait, probably a few years later, at the close of his career.
NOTES:
[85] Or "points" (punte). The translation is that used by Blashfield and Hopkins, vol. iv. 260.
[86] Assuming he was born in 1477, which is by no means certain.
[87] Dr. Richter in the Art Journal, 1895, p. 90. Mr. Claude Phillips, in his Earlier Work of Titian, p. 58, note, objects that Vasari's "giubone di raso inargentato" is not the superbly luminous steel-grey sleeve of this "Ariosto," but surely a vest of satin embroidered with silver. I think we need not examine Vasari's casual descriptions quite so closely; "a doublet of silvered satin wherein the stitches could be counted" is fairly accurate. "Quilted sleeves" would no doubt be the tailor's term.
[88] It is not quite clear whether the single letter is F or T.
[89] A curious fact, which corroborates my view, is that the four old copies which exist are all ascribed to Giorgione (at Vicenza, Brescia, and two lately in English collections). See Crowe and Cavalcaselle, p. 201.
[90] Gronau: Tizian, p. 21.
[91] See, however, note on p. 133.
[92] La Galleria Crespi.
[93] The documents quoted by Signor Venturi show the signature was there in 1640.
[94] When in the Martinengo Gallery at Brescia (1640) it bore this name. See Venturi, op. cit., and Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Titian, ii. 58.
[95] From Das Museum, No. 79. "Unbekannter Meister um 1500. Bildnis der Caterina Cornaro." I am informed the original is now in the possession of the German Ambassador at The Hague, and that a plaster cast is at Berlin.
[96] Dr. Bode (Jahrbuch, 1883, p. 144) says that Count Pourtales acquired this bust at Asolo.
[97] Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1897, pp. 278-9. Since (1901) republished in his Study and Criticism of Italian Art, vol. i. p. 85.
[98] Titian's posthumous portrait of Caterina is lost. The best known copy is in the Uffizi. Crowe and Cavalcaselle long ago pointed out the absurdity of regarding this fancy portrait as a true likeness of the long deceased queen. It bears no resemblance whatever to the Buda-Pesth portrait, which is the latest of the group.
[99] Cicerone, sixth edition.
[100] Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1897, pp. 278-9.
[101] Venetian Painting at the New Gallery, 1895, p. 41.
[102] Titian, ii. 58.
[103] Gazette des Beaux Arts, loc cit.
[104] Life of Giorgione. The letters T.V. either were added after 1544, or Vasari did not interpret them as Titian's signature.
[105] La Galleria Crespi, op. cit.
[106] The importance of this portrait in the history of the Renaissance is discussed, postea, p. 113.
[107] ii. 19.
[108] This picture was transferred in 1857 from panel to canvas, but is otherwise in fine condition.
[109] Morelli, ii. 19, note.
[110] Crowe and Cavalcaselle: Titian, p. 425.
[111] Gazette des Beaux Arts, 1893, p. 135.
[112] It is customary to cite the Prague picture of 1525 as his work. The clumsy signature CAM was probably intended for Campi, the real author, and its genuineness is not above suspicion. It is a curious quid pro quo.
CHAPTER V
ADDITIONAL PICTURES OTHER THAN PORTRAITS
I have now pointed out six portraits which, in my opinion, should be included in the roll of genuine Giorgiones. No doubt others will, in time, be identified, but I leave this fascinating quest to pass to the consideration of other paintings illustrating a different phase of the master's art.[113]
We know that the romantic vein in Giorgione was particularly strong, that he naturally delighted in producing fanciful pictures where his poetic imagination could find full play; we have seen how the classic myth and the mediaeval romance afforded opportunities for him to indulge his fancy, and we have found him adapting themes derived from these sources to the decoration of cassoni, or marriage chests. Another typical example of this practice is afforded by his "Orpheus and Eurydice," in the gallery at Bergamo, a splendid little panel, probably, like the "Apollo and Daphne" in the Seminario at Venice, intended as a decorative piece of applied art. Although bearing Giorgione's name by tradition, modern critics have passed it by presumably on the ground that "it is not good enough,"—that fatal argument which has thrown dust in the eyes of the learned. As if the artist would naturally expend as much care on a trifle of this kind as on the Castelfranco altar-piece, or the Dresden "Venus"! Yet what greater beauty of conception, what more poetic fancy is there in the "Apollo and Daphne" (which is generally accepted as genuine) than in this little "Orpheus and Eurydice"? Nay, the execution, which is the point contested, appears to me every whit as brilliant, and in preservation the latter piece has the advantage. Not a touch but what can be paralleled in a dozen other works—the feathery trees against the luminous sky, the glow of the horizon, the splendid effects of light and shadow, the impressive grandeur of the wild scenery, the small figures in mid-distance, even the cast of drapery and shape of limbs are repeated elsewhere. Let anyone contrast the delicacy and the glow of this little panel with several similar productions of the Venetian school hanging in the same gallery, and the gulf that separates Giorgione from his imitators will, I think, be apparent.
In the same category must be ranked two very small panels in the Gallery at Padua (Nos. 42 and 43), attributed with a query to Giorgione. These are apparently fragments of some decorative series, of which the other parts are missing. The one represents "Leda and the Swan," the other a mythological subject, where a woman is seated holding a child, and a man, also seated, holds flowers. The latter recalls one of the figures in the National Gallery "Epiphany." The charm of these fragments lies in the exquisite landscapes, which, in minuteness of finish and loving care, Giorgione has nowhere surpassed. The gallery at Padua is thus, in my opinion, the possessor of four genuine examples of Giorgione's skill as a decorator, for we have already mentioned the larger cassone pieces[114] (Nos. 416 and 417).
Of greater importance is the "Unknown Subject," in the National Gallery (No. 1173), a picture which, like so many others, has recently been taken from Giorgione, its author, and vaguely put down to his "School." But it is time to protest against such needless depreciation!
In spite of abrasion, in spite of the loss of glow, in spite of much that disfigures, nay disguises, the master's own touch, I feel confident that Giorgione and no other produced this beautiful picture.[115] Surely if this be only school work, we are vainly seeking a mythical master, an ideal who never could have existed. What more dainty figures, what more delicate hues, what more exquisite feeling could one look for than is here to be found? True, the landscape has been renovated, true, the Giorgionesque depth and richness is gone, the mellow glow of the "Epiphany," which hangs just below, is sadly wanting, but who can deny the charm of the picturesque scenery, which vividly recalls the landscape backgrounds elsewhere in the master's own work, who can fail to admire the natural and unstudied grouping of the figures, the artlessness of the whole, the loving simplicity with which the painter has done his work? All is spontaneous; the spirit is not that of a laborious imitator, painfully seeking "effects" from another's inspiration; sincerity and naivete are too apparent for this to be the work of any but a quite young artist, and one whose style is so thoroughly "Giorgionesque" as to be none other than the young Giorgione himself. In my opinion this is one of his earliest essays into the region of romance, painted probably before his twenty-first year, betraying, like the little legendary pictures in the Uffizi, a strong affinity with Carpaccio.[116]
As to the subject many conjectures have been made: Aristotle surrounded by emblems illustrating the objects with which his philosophy was concerned, an initiation into some mystic rite, the poet musing in sadness on the mysteries of life, the philosopher imparting wisdom to the young, etc. etc. I believe Giorgione is simply giving us a poetical rendering of "The Golden Age," where, like Plato's philosopher-king, the seer all-wise and all-powerful holds sway, before whom the arts and sciences do homage; in this earthly paradise even strange animals live in happy harmony, and all is peace. Such a theme would well have suited Giorgione's temperament, and Ridolfi actually tells us that this very subject was taken by Giorgione from the pages of Ovid, and adapted by him to his own ends.[117] But whether this represents "The Golden Age," or some other allegory or classic story, the picture is completely characteristic of all that is most individual in Giorgione, and I earnestly hope the slur now cast upon its character by the misleading label will be speedily removed.[118] For the public believes more in the labels it reads, than the pictures it sees.
Finally, in the "Venus disarming Cupid," of the Wallace collection, we have, in my opinion, the wreck of a once splendid Giorgione. In the recent re-arrangement of the Gallery, this picture, which used to hang in an upstairs room, and was practically unknown, has been hung prominently on the line, so that its beauties, and, alas! its defects, can be plainly seen. The outlines are often distorted and blurred, the Cupid has become monstrous, the delicacy of the whole effaced by ill-usage and neglect. Yet the splendour of colour, the cast of drapery, the flow of line, proclaims the great master himself. There is no room, moreover, for such a mythical compromise as that which is proposed by the catalogue, "It stands midway in style between Giorgione and Titian in his Giorgionesque phase." No better instance could be adduced of the fallacy of perfection implied in the minds of most critics at the mention of Giorgione's name; yet if we accept the Louvre "Concert," if we accept the Hermitage "Judith," why dispute Giorgione's claim on the ground of "weakness of construction"? This "Venus and Cupid" is vastly inferior in quality to the Dresden "Venus,"—let us frankly admit it,—but it is none the less characteristic of the artist, who must not be judged by the standard of his exceptional creations, but by that of his normal productions.[119]
Just such another instance of average merit is afforded by the "Venus and Adonis" of the National Gallery (No. 1123), from which, had not an artificial standard of excellence been falsely raised, Giorgione's name would never have been removed. I am happily not the first to call attention to the propriety of the old attribution, for Sir Edward Poynter claims that the same hand that produced the Louvre "Concert" is also responsible for the "Venus and Adonis."[120] I fully share this opinion. The figures, with their compactly built and rounded limbs, are such as Giorgione loved to model, the sweep of draperies and the splendid line indicate a consummate master, the idyllic landscape framing episodes from the life of Adonis is just such as we see in the Louvre picture and elsewhere, the glow and splendour of the whole reveal a master of tone and colouring. Some good judges would give the work to the young Titian, but it appears too intimately "Giorgionesque" to be his, although I admit the extreme difficulty in drawing the line of division. Passages in the "Sacred and Profane Love" of the Borghese Gallery are curiously recalled, but the National Gallery picture is clearly the work of a mature and experienced hand, and not of any young artist. In my opinion it dates from about 1508, and illustrates the later phase of Giorgione's art as admirably as do the "Epiphany" (No. 1160) and the "Golden Age" (No. 1173) his earliest style. Between these extremes fall the "Portrait" (No. 636), and the "S. Liberale" (No. 269), the National Gallery thus affording unrivalled opportunity for studying the varying phases of the great Venetian master at different stages of his career.
* * * * *
We may now pass from the realm of "fancy" subjects to that of sacred art—that is, to the consideration of the "Madonnas," "Holy Families," and "Santa Conversazione" pictures, other than those already described. The Beaumont "Adoration of the Shepherds," with its variant at Vienna, the National Gallery "Epiphany," the Madrid "Madonna with S. Anthony and S. Roch," and the Castelfranco altar-piece are the only instances so far of Giorgione's sacred art, yet Vasari tells us that the master "in his youth painted very many beautiful pictures of the Virgin."
This statement is on the face of it likely enough, for although the young Castelfrancan early showed his independence of tradition and his preference for the more modern phases of Bellini's art, it is extremely probable he was also called upon to paint some smaller devotional pieces, such, for instance, as "The Christ bearing the Cross," lately in the Casa Loschi at Vicenza.[121] It is noteworthy, all the same, that scarcely any "Madonna" picture exists to which his name still attaches, and only one "Holy Family," so far as I am aware, is credibly reputed to be his work. This is Mr. Benson's little picture, in all respects a worthy companion to the Beaumont and National Gallery examples. There is even a purer ring about this lovely little "Holy Family," a child-like sincerity and a simplicity which is very touching, while for sheer beauty of colour it is more enjoyable than either of the others. It may not have the depth of tone and mastery of chiaroscuro which make the Beaumont "Adoration" so subtly attractive, but in tenderness of feeling and daintiness of treatment it is not surpassed by any other of Giorgione's works. In its obvious defects, too, it is as thoroughly characteristic; it is needless to repeat here what I said when discussing the Beaumont and Vienna "Adoration"; the reader who compares the reproductions will readily see the same features in both works. Mr. Benson's little picture has this additional interest, that more than either of its companion pieces it points forward to the Castelfranco "Madonna" in the bold sweep of the draperies, the play of light on horizontal surfaces, and the exquisite gaiety of its colour.
In claiming this picture for Giorgione I am claiming nothing new, for his name, in spite of modern critics, has here persistently survived. Not so with a group of three Madonnas, one of which has for at least two centuries borne Titian's name, another which passes also for a work of the same painter, whilst the third was claimed by Crowe and Cavalcaselle again for Titian, partly on the analogy of the first-mentioned one.[122] The first is the so-called "Gipsy Madonna" in the Vienna Gallery, the second is a "Madonna" in the Bergamo Gallery, and the third is a "Madonna" again in Mr. Benson's collection.
I am happily not the first to identify the "Gipsy Madonna" as Giorgione's work, for it requires no little courage to tilt at what has been unquestioningly accepted as "the earliest known Madonna of Titian." I am indebted, therefore, to Signor Venturi for the lead,[123] although I have the satisfaction of feeling that independent study of my own had already brought me to the same conclusion.
Of course, all modern writers have recognised the "Giorgionesque" elements in this supposed Titian. "In the depth, strength, and richness of the colour-chord, in the atmospheric spaciousness and charm of the landscape background, in the breadth of the draperies, it is already," says Mr. Claude Phillips,[124] "Giorgionesque." Yet, he goes on, the Child is unlike Giorgione's type in the Castelfranco and Madrid pictures, and the Virgin has a less spiritualised nature than Giorgione's Madonnas in the same two pictures. On the other hand, Dr. Gronau, Titian's latest biographer, declares[125] that the thoughtful expression ("der tief empfundene Ausdruck") of the Madonna is essentially Giorgionesque. Morelli, with peculiar insight, protested against its being considered a very early work of Titian, basing his protest on the advanced nature of the landscape, which, he says,[126] "must have been painted six or eight years later than the end of the fifteenth century." But even he fell into line with Crowe and Cavalcaselle in ascribing the picture to Titian, failing to see that all difficulties of chronology and discrepancies of judgment between himself and the older historians could be reconciled on the hypothesis of Giorgione's authorship. For Giorgione, as Morelli rightly saw, developed far more rapidly than Titian, so that a Titian landscape of, say, 1506-8 (if any such exist!) would correspond with one by Giorgione of, say, 1500. I agree with Crowe and Cavalcaselle and those writers who date back the "Gipsy Madonna" to the end of the fifteenth century, but I must emphatically support Signor Venturi in his claim that Giorgione is the author.
Before, however, looking at internal evidence to prove this contention, we may note that another example of the same composition exists in the Gallery of Rovigo, identical save for a cartellino on which is inscribed TITIANVS. To Crowe and Cavalcaselle this was evidence to confirm Titian's claim to be the painter of what they considered the original work—viz. the Vienna picture, of which the Rovigo example was, in their opinion, a later copy. A careful examination, however, of the latter picture has convinced me that they were curiously right and curiously wrong. That the Rovigo work is posterior to the Vienna one is, I think, patent to anyone conversant with Venetian painting, but why should the one bear Titian's name on an apparently authentic cartellino, and not the other? The simple and straightforward explanation appears the best—viz. that the Rovigo picture is actually by Titian, who has taken the Vienna picture (which I attribute to Giorgione) as his model and directly repeated it. The qualities of the work are admirable, and worthy of Titian, and I venture to think this "Madonna" would long ago have taken its rightful place among the pictures of the master had it not hung in a remote provincial gallery little visited by travellers, and in such a dark corner as to escape detection. The form TITIANVS points to a period after 1520,[127] when Giorgione had been some years dead, so that it was not unnatural that in after times the credit of invention rested with the author of the signed picture, and that his name came gradually to be attached also to the earlier example. The engraving of Meyssen (circa 1640) thus bears Titian's name, and both engraving and the repetition at Rovigo are now adduced as evidence of Titian's authorship of the Vienna "Gipsy Madonna."
But is there any proof that Titian ever copied or repeated any other work of Giorgione? There is, fortunately, one great and acknowledged precedent, the "Venus" in the Tribune of the Uffizi, which is directly taken from Giorgione's Dresden "Venus," The accessories, it is true, are different, but the nude figures are line for line identical.[128] Other painters, Palma, Cariarli, and Titian, elsewhere, derived inspiration from Giorgione's prototype, but Titian actually repeats the very figure in this "Venus"; so that there is nothing improbable in my contention that Titian also repeated Giorgione's "Gipsy Madonna," adding his signature thereto, to the confusion and confounding of later generations.
It is worthy of note that not a single "Madonna and Child" by Titian exists, except the little picture in Mr. Mond's collection, painted quite in the artist's old age. Titian invariably paints "Madonna and Saints," or a "Holy Family," so that the three Madonna pictures I am claiming for Giorgione are marked off by this peculiarity from the bulk of Titian's work. This in itself is not enough to disqualify Titian, but it is a factor in that cumulative proof by which I hope Giorgione's claim may be sustained. The marble parapet again is a feature in Giorgione's work, but not in Titian's. But the most convincing evidence to those who know the master lies in the composition, which forms an almost equilateral triangle, revealing Giorgione's supreme sense of beauty in line. The splendid curves made by the drapery, the pose of the Child, so as to obtain the same unbroken sweep of line, reveals the painter of the Dresden "Venus." The painting of the Child's hand over the Madonna's is precisely as in the Madrid picture, where, moreover, the pose of the Child is singularly alike. The folds of drapery on the sleeve recur in the same picture, the landscape with the small figure seated beneath the tree is such as can be found in any Giorgione background. The oval of the face and the delicacy of the features are thoroughly characteristic, as is the spirit of calm reverie and tender simplicity which Giorgione has breathed into his figures.
The second and third Madonna pictures—viz. the one at Bergamo, and its counterpart in Mr. Benson's collection—appear to be somewhat later in date of execution, but reveal many points in common with the "Gipsy Madonna." The beauty of line is here equally conspicuous; the way the drapery is carried out beyond the elbow so as to form one long unbroken curve, the triangular composition, the marble parapet, are so many proofs of Giorgione's hand. Moreover, we find in Mr. Benson's picture the characteristic tree-trunks, so suggestive of solemn grandeur,[129] and the striped scarf,[130] so cunningly disposed to give more flowing line and break the stiffness of contour.
The Bergamo picture closely resembles Mr. Benson's "Madonna," from which, indeed, it varies chiefly in the pose of the Child (whose left leg here sticks straight out), whilst the landscape is seen on the left side, and there are no tree-trunks. I cannot find that any writer has made allusion to this little gem, which hangs high up on the end wall of the Lochis section of the gallery (No. 232); I hope others will examine this new-found work at a less inconvenient height, as I have done, and that their opinion will coincide with mine that the same hand painted the Benson "Madonna," and that that hand is Giorgione's.
Before quitting the subject of the "Madonna and Child," another example may be alluded to, about which it would be unwise to express any decided opinion founded only on a study of the photograph. This is a picture at St. Petersburg, to which Mr. Claude Phillips first directed attention,[131] stating his then belief that it might be a genuine Giorgione. After a recent visit to St. Petersburg, however, he has seen fit to register it as a probable copy after a lost original by the master, on the ground that "it is not fine enough in execution."[132] This, as I have often pointed out, is a dangerous test to apply in Giorgione's case, and so the authenticity of this "Madonna" may still be left an open question.
Finally, in the category of Sacred Art come two well-known pictures, both in public galleries, and both accredited to Giorgione. The first is the "Christ and the Adulteress" of the Glasgow Gallery, the second the "Madonna and Saints" of the Louvre. Many diverse opinions are held about the Glasgow picture; some ascribe it to Cariani, others to Campagnola. It is asserted by some that the same hand painted the Kingston Lacy "Judgment of Solomon," but that it is not the hand of Giorgione, and finally—to come to the view which I believe is the correct one—Dr. Bode and Sir Walter Armstrong[133] both believe that Giorgione is the painter.
The whole difficulty, as it seems to me, arises from the deep-rooted misapprehension in the minds of most critics of the character of Giorgione's art. In their eyes, he is something so perfect as to be incapable of producing anything short of the ideal. He could never have drawn so badly, he never could have composed so awkwardly, he never could have been so inexpressive!—such is the usual criticism. I have elsewhere insisted upon the unevenness which invariably characterises the productions of men who are gifted with a strong artistic temperament, and in Giorgione's case, as I believe, this is particularly true. The Glasgow picture is but one instance of many where, if correctness of drawing, perfection of composition, and inevitableness of expression are taken as final tests, the verdict must go against the painter. He either failed in these cases to come up to the standard reached elsewhere, or he is not the painter. Modern negative criticism generally adopts the latter solution, with the result that not a score of pictures pass muster, and the virtues of these chosen few are so extolled as to make it all but impossible to see the reverse of the medal. But those who accept the "Judith" at St. Petersburg, the Louvre "Concert," the Beaumont "Adoration of the Shepherds" (to name only three examples where the drawing is strange), cannot consistently object to admit the Glasgow "Christ and the Adulteress" into the fold. Nay, if gorgeousness of colour, splendour of glow, mastery of chiaroscuro, and brilliancy of technique are qualities which go to make up great painting, then the Glasgow picture must take high rank, even in a school where such qualities found their grandest expression.
Comparisons of detail may be noted, such as the resemblance in posture and type of the Accuser with the S. Roch of the Madrid picture, the figure of the Adulteress with that of the False Mother in the Kingston Lacy picture, the pointing forefingers, the typical landscape, the cast of the draperies, details which the reader can find often repeated elsewhere. But it is in the treatment of the subject that the most characteristic features are revealed. The artist was required—we know not why—to paint this dramatic scene; he had to produce a "set piece," where action and graphic representation was urgently needed. How little to his taste! How uncongenial the task! The case is exactly paralleled by the "Judgment of Solomon," the only other dramatic episode Giorgione appears to have attempted, and the result in each case is the same—no real dramatic unity, but an accidental arrangement of the figures, with rhetorical action. The want of repose in the Christ offends, the stageyness of the whole repels. How different when Giorgione worked con amore! For it seems this composition gave him much trouble. Of this we have a most interesting proof in an almost contemporary Venetian version of the same subject, where the scheme has been recast. This picture belongs to Sir Charles Turner, in London, and, so far as intelligibleness of composition goes, may be said to be an improvement on the Glasgow version. It is highly probable that this painting derives from some alternative drawing for the original picture. That the Glasgow version acquired some celebrity we have further proof in an almost exact copy (with one more figure added on the right), which hangs in the Bergamo Gallery under Cariani's name, a painting which, in all respects, is utterly inferior to the original.[134]
The "Christ and the Adulteress," then, becomes for us a revelation of the painter's nature, of his methods and aims; but, with all its technical excellences, shall we not also frankly recognise the limitations of his art?[135]
The "Madonna and Saints" of the Louvre, which persistently bears Giorgione's name, in spite of modern negative criticism, is marked by a lurid splendour of colour and a certain rough grandeur of expression, well calculated to jar with any preconceived notion of Giorgionesque sobriety or reserve. Yet here, if anywhere, we get that fuoco Giorgionesco of which Vasari speaks, that intensity of feeling, rendered with a vivacity and power to which the artist could only have attained in his latest days. In this splendid group there is a masculine energy, a fulness of life, and a grandeur of representation which carries le grand style to its furthest limits, and if Giorgione actually completed the picture before his death, he anticipated the full splendour of the riper Renaissance. To him is certainly due the general composition, with its superb lines, its beautiful curves, its majestic and dignified postures, its charming sunset background, to him is certainly due the splendid chiaroscuro and magic colour-chord; but it becomes a question whether some of the detail was not actually finished by Giorgione's pupil, Sebastiano del Piombo.[136] The drawing, for instance, of the hands vividly suggests his help, the type of S. Joseph in the background reminds us of the figure of S. Chrysostom in Sebastiano's Venice altar-piece, while the S. Catherine recalls the Angel in Sebastiano's "Holy Family" at Naples. If this be the case, we here have another instance of the pupil finishing his master's work, and this time probably after his death, for, as already pointed out, the "Evander and Aeneas" (at Vienna) must have been left by Giorgione well-nigh complete at an earlier stage than the year of his death. |
|
