PLATE VI.—THE MADONNA AND CHILD OF THE GROTTO(In the Uffizi Gallery, Florence)This severe and dignified group, now in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, is supposed by some critics to have been painted in Mantua about the same time as the frescoes of the Camera degli Sposi, whilst others assign it to a much later date, declaring it to have been produced between 1488-1490 during the artist’s residence in Rome.PLATE VI.—THE MADONNA AND CHILD OF THE GROTTO
(In the Uffizi Gallery, Florence)
This severe and dignified group, now in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, is supposed by some critics to have been painted in Mantua about the same time as the frescoes of the Camera degli Sposi, whilst others assign it to a much later date, declaring it to have been produced between 1488-1490 during the artist’s residence in Rome.
Fortunately, the artist soon recovered from his illness, but it was not until September that he completed his work in Rome, and received permission from the Pope to return to Mantua. Innocent VIII. expressed himself in his letter of dismissal fully satisfied with the way in which his wishes had been carried out; but whether the artist was equally pleased with the reward for his services is questionable. He was evidently very glad to leave Rome, where, strange to say, in spite of his love for antiquity and the opportunities he must have enjoyed for his favourite study, he seems to have felt out of his element. His correspondence with the Marquis betrays considerable home-sickness, and containsabsolutely no allusions to the art treasures of the Vatican. He pleads with his patron for an appointment for his son Lodovico, declares he is longing to be at work again on the “Triumph of Cæsar,” and retails various items of court gossip, telling quaint stories, for instance, about the ill-fated Prince Djem, brother of the reigning Sultan of Turkey, who was then a prisoner in the Vatican, but not a word does he say to throw light on the political situation, which was already causing anxiety to the heads of the great Italian states. Back again in Mantua, Mantegna quickly threw off the depression revealed in his letters, resuming his old place as if he had never been away, his studio becoming once more the centre of artistic activity in the ancient town.
The court painter was as eagerly welcomed by the young Marchesa as by her husband, and for the rest of his life his fortunes were very closely bound up with those of the d’Este family, which is equivalent to saying that he was henceforth to be in close touch with the history of his native country, that was eventhen on the eve of the Revolution that was completely to change her position in the polity of nations. The Marquis of Mantua’s bride was the only sister of Beatrice d’Este, who was married on December 29, 1490, to the brilliantly gifted but fickle, cruel, and crafty Lodovico Sforza, surnamed II Moro, who obtained the dukedom of Milan through treachery, and was mainly instrumental in bringing about the invasion of Italy by the French, a crime for which he was to pay dearly, first with his liberty and in the end with his life, for he died a prisoner in the Castle of Loches in 1508.
No hint of troubles to come saddened the first few months of Isabella d’Este’s life at Mantua, her chief anxiety having apparently been concerning her beloved sister, whose lot was far less happy than her own. Lodovico Sforza had not been nearly so ardent a lover as Francesco Gonzaga, for he had a mistress, the lovely and learned Cecilia Gallerani, to whom he was devotedly attached, and who had been for many years treated by him as if she werehis legal wife. It is significant of the indulgent manner in which such unions were regarded that his relations with her were not considered any bar to his marriage with an innocent young girl, whose parents did all in their power to hasten her engagement with him. It was very evident, however, that Beatrice did not share their eagerness, and it was to Isabella, who had hastened to Ferrara as soon as the matter was settled, that she turned for comfort in her shrinking dread of what was before her. That the Marchesa succeeded in reassuring her and bracing her up for the ordeal is proved by the dignified way in which the child-bride bore herself in the long-drawn-out and brilliant festivities that celebrated her union with a man more than double her own age, and the ease with which she took up the arduous duties of the wife of the leading and most powerful prince of Italy. It was with a heart relieved of its most pressing fears that the elder sister returned home, and the letters written to her by Beatrice in the months succeeding her departure reveal a growing attachment betweenthe newly married couple, on which a seal was set in January 1493 by the birth of their first son.
The court of the Gonzagas now became the rendezvous of the leading authors, artists, and antiquarians of the day, who vied with each other in their enthusiastic admiration for the beautiful young Marchesa, though it is occasionally suggested by contemporary writers that as time went on some of them rather rebelled against her increasing exactions, for she would fain have had every one give up everything to obey her behests. She is even said to have sent imperious messages to such great celebrities as Perugino, Giovanni Bellini, and Leonardo da Vinci, bidding them come and help Mantegna to decorate her apartments, describing the subjects she wished them to interpret, and expressing herself as greatly aggrieved when they failed to appear. On the other hand, there is no doubt that she proved herself a most generous and considerate patron of her own court painter, and the four years after his return from Rome were probably among the happiest of Mantegna’s life.He worked during them almost exclusively at the “Triumph of Cæsar,” receiving no help from any other artist, completing the tenth composition in 1494, and making several sketches for others that were never finished. In these wonderful creations the artist realised the very spirit of antiquity, yet at the same time bequeathed to posterity a marvellously true series of presentments of the contemporary life of his time, full of significant incidents and effective contrasts, the various groups displaying a freedom of execution and force of expression such as Mantegna had never before achieved. For the first time realism and idealism were welded into one, and the past seemed actually to become the present, waking into new life not merely as an intellectual abstraction, but as a visible pageant of humanity.
The year of the successful conclusion of the “Triumph of Cæsar” was a disastrous one for Italy, for in July 1494 the Duke of Orleans, on the invitation of Lodovico Sforza, crossed the Alps, to be followed almost immediately by Charles VIII. The French King and the Dukeof Orleans were welcomed with great enthusiasm by Il Moro, whose wife wrote glowing accounts to her sister at Mantua of the rejoicings over their arrival; but those who looked below the surface recognised what a fatal mistake had been made, and sinister rumours soon began to spread abroad as to the real motives of Lodovico Sforza. The death of his nephew Giangaleazzo at a most opportune moment for him led to suspicions of his having caused him to be poisoned, that were confirmed by the way in which he managed to get his claim to the succession recognised and the dead man’s young son Francesco set aside in his own favour. For all that, he was allowed to assume the supreme authority at Milan without opposition, and contemporary chroniclers even comment on the kindness shown by him and his wife to the widowed duchess, to whom apartments were assigned in the palace that had so long been her home. Meanwhile, everything had remained quiet at Mantua, though all that was going on elsewhere was being watched with eager interest by the Gonzagas and Mantegna. Early in 1495Isabella went to Milan to be with her sister, who was expecting her second child, and on February 4th a fine boy was born. In the brilliant festivities held to celebrate the great event the child’s beautiful aunt is said to have taken a leading part, now receiving ambassadors from foreign courts to save the young mother fatigue, now advising her brother-in-law in some difficult question of etiquette, capping verses with Gaspare Visconti, criticising the work of Giovanni Bellini, or playing with her two-year-old nephew, Ercole, who simply worshipped her.
Suddenly, in the midst of all this light-hearted gaiety, came the news that Charles VIII. had entered Naples and been crowned King of Sicily, and though the bells of Milan were ostentatiously rung as if in rejoicing, a council was hastily summoned to consult on the best measures to save Italy from the French invaders. On April 12th a league against France was signed between Venice, Urbino, Mantua, Milan, King Ferdinand of Spain and the Emperor Maximilian; the Marquis ofMantua was made Generalissimo of the united Italian forces, and after taking an affectionate farewell of Mantegna, who, he said, would soon be called upon to paint a masterpiece in celebration of a victory, he set forth in high spirits at the head of his army. His words turned out to be prophetic, for on July 6th, at Fornovo, he defeated the French with great loss, fighting himself side by side with his soldiers in the front rank. Before he went into action he vowed that if he escaped unhurt he would build a church in honour of the Virgin at Mantua, and as soon as the battle was over he sent instructions to Mantegna to make plans of the building, and to design an altar-piece for it.
PLATE VII.—PARNASSUS(In the Louvre)This charmingly dramatic interpretation of the subjugation of the God of War by the Goddess of Love is one of a series of allegorical pictures painted for the “Studio” of the Marchesa Isabella Gonzaga at Mantua, and is a unique example of its artist’s deep sympathy with the spirit of classic legend.PLATE VII.—PARNASSUS
(In the Louvre)
This charmingly dramatic interpretation of the subjugation of the God of War by the Goddess of Love is one of a series of allegorical pictures painted for the “Studio” of the Marchesa Isabella Gonzaga at Mantua, and is a unique example of its artist’s deep sympathy with the spirit of classic legend.
The church was finished before the painting, which was not begun until August 30th, but it was completed in time to be placed in position on the anniversary of the event it commemorated, and is universally considered the artist’s finest work of the kind, surpassing even the beautiful S. Zeno triptych. It is now one of the chief treasures of the Louvre, having been taken to France in 1797, and isknown as the “Madonna della Vittoria,” although, as a matter of fact, it represents the Marquis of Mantua pleading with the Virgin for the success of his arms, not returning thanks for victory, the whole composition breathing forth yearning aspiration rather than exultation. In it the Holy Child occupies the centre of the design, all the light being concentrated on Him and on the face of His mother, who embraces Him with one hand, and stretches forth the other towards the kneeling suppliant, opposite to whom are St. Elizabeth and the Infant St. John the Baptist. The mantle of the Virgin is held back by Saints George and Michael, and against the ornate background appear the heads of the patrons of Mantua, Saints Andrew and Longinus, the whole being admirably proportioned and well balanced.
During the years that succeeded the victory of Fornovo the Marquis of Mantua and his wife had to contend not only with great political anxieties but with one of the greatest sorrows of their lives—the sudden death ofthe Duchess of Milan, who passed away on January 2, 1497, after giving birth to a still-born son. Her end is said to have been hastened by the fact that her husband, who had hitherto seemed devoted to her, had recently conceived a passion for a lovely girl named Lucrezia Crivelli, who had been one of her ladies-in-waiting. However that may have been, Lodovico’s grief at her loss, intensified perhaps by self-reproach, was extreme, and the letter he wrote to his brother-in-law asking him to break the terrible news to Isabella is one long cry of anguish. That the young wife had been mercifully taken away from the evil to come soon, however, became apparent, for before she had been dead a year her husband’s doom was already sealed. Heavy clouds, too, were gathering at Mantua, for the Marquis fell under the suspicion of having had underhand dealings with the enemy, and in April 1497 he was suddenly dismissed from his post as Generalissimo of the Italian forces. This was a bitter blow to him, to his wife, and to all, including Mantegna, who had his interests atheart, but fortunately the storm quickly blew over, and he was soon restored to his command, which he retained to the end of the campaign.
The taking of Milan by the French in 1499 and the triumphant entry into the conquered city of Louis XII.—who, the little dauphin having died shortly before his father, had become King of France on the death of Charles VIII.—with all the terrible consequences to the Sforza family, cast a gloom over the court of Mantua for the rest of the reign of the Marquis Francesco, and both he and Isabella found their best distraction from their many sorrows in watching their court painter at work. The “Madonna della Vittoria” was succeeded by the “Madonna with Saints and Angels,” now in the collection of Prince Trivulzio at Milan, painted for the monks of S. Maria in Organo, Verona, and the “Madonna and Child with St. John the Baptist,” now in the National Gallery, with the smaller but no less charming “Holy Family” of the Dresden Gallery. To about the same period aresupposed to belong the designs for the frescoes in Mantegna’s mortuary chapel in S. Andrea, Mantua, of which only two—the “Holy Family with St. Elizabeth, Zacharias, and the Infant St. John” and the “Baptism of Christ,” the latter almost defaced—are from the hand of the master himself, the rest having been completed after his death by his pupils.
In 1500, when Andrea was already in his seventieth year, he was commissioned by the Marchesa to paint a series of allegorical subjects in what she called her “studio,” in the Castello of Mantua, on the decoration of which several other artists, including Perugino and Lorenzo da Costa, were also engaged. Mantegna was, unfortunately, the only one of the painters selected who approached the task with any enthusiasm, or attempted to realise the ambition of Isabella—that her sanctum should be a kind of epitome of intellectual and sensuous life, symbolising, as do the Trifoni of Petrarch in literature, the most ideal aspirations of humanity. The first of the compositions completed by Mantegna wasthe “Parnassus,” in which the conquest of Mars by Venus is celebrated, that is unique amongst the master’s works, generally characterised as they are by sobriety of expression, as an interpretation of light-hearted gaiety. The figures of the dancing-girls are full of vivacious grace, and that of the Goddess of Love of seductive charm, contrasting well with the virile and heroic form of her suitor, the stern God of War, whilst the minor actors in the idyllic scene—the neglected husband, Vulcan, working at his forge as if indifferent to what is going on, Apollo, Mercury, and Cupid—are all most happily rendered, the various groups combining to give the impression of a living drama, in which the artist, in the fulness of his creative power, for once succeeded in giving visible expression to his lifelong dream of the old Olympus, which he had previously seen only in his imagination.
It was not until some years after the execution of the “Parnassus” that the second of the “studio” pictures, the comparatively uninteresting “Triumph of Virtue over the Vices,” wasfinished. Though its details were evidently carefully studied, it shows a lamentable falling off in simplicity and effectiveness of design, Mantegna having been greatly hampered by the constant interference of Isabella, who insisted on the introduction of a bewildering number of allegorical figures. The third and last composition, an equally unpromising subject, the “Triumph of Erotic Love,” was only begun by Andrea, and completed by Lorenzo da Costa, who faithfully endeavoured to fulfil his predecessor’s intentions. All three paintings are now in the Louvre, where the “Parnassus” may be usefully compared with the earlier “Madonna della Vittoria” and the “Crucifixion,” the three works being very typical of the various periods of the master’s development.
To 1506 belongs the fine and characteristic monochrome decorative picture of the “Triumph of Scipio,” now in the National Gallery, one of the very latest of the master’s works, commemorating two important episodes of the second Punic War—the welcome given to theimage of the goddess Cybele brought from Rome to Ostia by Publius Scipio, and the miracle wrought by the “Mother of the Gods” on her arrival, which proved the innocence of the Roman matron, Claudia Quinta, who had been falsely accused of immorality. Concerning this fine work, in which the artist tells the well-known classic story with dramatic directness, a very interesting correspondence has been preserved, between Isabella d’Este and the famous Venetian scholar, Pietro Bembo, who complained to the Marchioness that Mantegna had long ago pledged himself to paint certain pictures for his friend, Francesco Cornaro, who had paid twenty-five ducats on account. He begged the master’s patroness to induce him to fulfil his engagements, adding that “Messer Cornaro would not mind about a couple of hundred ducats; he would gladly leave the value of the pictures to her, but he would not allow himself to be jested with, and meant to stand upon his rights.” To this the great lady appealed to replied that “she would certainly speak for Cornaro to Mantegnawhen opportunity should occur, but that the aged artist was at the moment scarcely recovered from a serious illness, so that it was impossible yet to talk to him about business.” That she did intervene soon afterwards, or that Mantegna’s own conscience reproached him, is, however, proved by the fact that the completed “Triumph of Scipio” was found in his studio after his death.
PLATE VIII.—THE TRIUMPH OF SCIPIO(In the National Gallery)Painted in 1506, this fine decorative picture in monochrome, now in the National Gallery, is one of Mantegna’s latest works, and represents two incidents of the second Punic War—the arrival at Rome of the image of the goddess Cybele, and the supposed miracle wrought by it.PLATE VIII.—THE TRIUMPH OF SCIPIO
(In the National Gallery)
Painted in 1506, this fine decorative picture in monochrome, now in the National Gallery, is one of Mantegna’s latest works, and represents two incidents of the second Punic War—the arrival at Rome of the image of the goddess Cybele, and the supposed miracle wrought by it.
The picture is referred to by the painter’s son Lodovico in a letter to the Marchioness “as that work of Scipio Cornelio which was undertaken for Messer Francesco Cornaro, and which the Cardinal Sigismondo Gonzaga desired to retain for himself.” Vainly did Andrea’s second son protest against this, begging the Marquis Francesco to let him have it back, “for he wished to keep it as a memorial of his father and for purposes of study,” a plea delightfully suggestive of happy relations having existed between the writer and the great master. Francesco Mantegna added that he would gladly pay back the twenty-five ducats toCornaro, and great was his disappointment when, after a long delay, he received as sole answer to his request a promissory note from the Cardinal for one hundred ducats, which in the end turned out to be no more than waste paper, for as long afterwards as November 1507 neither he nor his brother had been able to get the money. In the end, the descendants of Messer Cornaro got possession of the picture, which was bought from one of them by Lord George Vivian, whose son left it to the National Gallery in 1873.
With the “Triumph of Scipio” may justly be ranked the “Samson and Delilah,” also now in the National Gallery, that is evidently entirely from the hand of the master himself, and is a very realistic interpretation of the much-exploited incident of the betrayal of the strong man by the weak but cunning woman. Other typical drawings are the “Judgment of Solomon,” in the Louvre, and the three renderings of Judith placing the head of Holofernes in a sack that is held open by her handmaiden—onein the possession of Mr. John Taylor, one at Dublin, and the third in the Uffizi. The last, signed by the artist with his full name and dated 1491, is a truly admirable rendering of its subject, the shrinking horror felt by the beautiful and heroic girl of the ghastly trophy she is about to let fall, being vividly reflected in her attitude and expression as well as in those of her companion. Less satisfactory from a technical point of view are the “Mutius Scævola” of the Munich collection, commemorative of the noble deed of the young Roman who had been chosen by lot to slay the Etruscan invader, King Porsenna, and having failed was condemned to be burnt alive; the group of “Mars, Venus, and Diana,” in the British Museum; the “Vestal Virgin Tucia,” also known as “Autumn,” and the “Greek Woman drinking from a Cup,” sometimes called “Summer,” in the National Gallery. Even they, however, as well as the more important drawings, are eminently characteristic of their author, who from first to last was more pictorial in his sketches than in his finished compositions.
Not only as a painter but as an engraver did Mantegna win great renown during his lifetime and abiding fame after his death. He and his gifted contemporary, Antonio Pollaiuolo, were the first Italians to employ copperplate engravings for original work and the reproduction of their drawings, and a very great impulse was given by them to the useful craft.
The closing months of Mantegna’s life are involved in an obscurity as great as that shrouding his early years. It is not even known of what he died, some saying that he was suddenly carried off by the plague which was raging in Mantua at the time, others that the end had long been expected, and that old age was his only ailment. The sad event took place at seven o’clock in the evening, on September 13, 1506, and the news was formally notified to the Marquis two days later by Francesco Mantegna; but, probably because of the great anxieties by which the Gonzagas were then oppressed, very little notice was taken of what under other circumstances would have overwhelmed them with grief.
Andrea Mantegna was quietly buried in the chapel in S. Andrea, Mantua, that he had long since secured as the last resting-place of his family, and which, except for the completion of the unfinished frescoes, remains to the present day very much what it was at the time of his death. It was not until fifty years later that the bronze bust, already referred to, was set up outside the chapel by his grandson Andrea, son of Lodovico Mantegna, who also erected within the building a fine memorial to his grandfather, father, and uncle, bearing the inscription, “Ossa Andreæ Mantineæ famosissimi pictoris cum duobus filiis in hoc sepulcro per Andream Mantineæ nepotem ex filio constructo reposita MDLX.”
In addition to the well-authenticated paintings, frescoes, and engravings described above, a very great number of other works, including easel pictures, drawings, and miniatures, have been attributed to Mantegna, who is alsosaid to have occasionally practised sculpture. Moreover, literary evidence proves that nearly one hundred compositions designed and executed by him have been lost, amongst which are specially to be regretted the portraits of his various patrons of the Gonzaga family and, above all, that of the Duchess Elizabetta of Urbino, who was one of the most beautiful and influential women of her time, beloved by young and old, and for whom her brilliant sister-in-law, Isabella d’Este, had a most fervent admiration. Even without these missing treasures, however, the court painter of Mantua left behind him masterpieces enough to secure to him a lasting fame as one of the pioneers of the Renaissance of painting in Italy.
The fact that Mantegna passed away on the very threshold of the Golden Age, during which Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, and Correggio, each the founder of a great school, produced their world-famous works, has led to his achievements having been comparatively neglected; butof late years his claims have gradually become more fully recognised, and he now takes high rank as a consistent and persevering exponent of a high ideal. His intense individuality was from the first hostile to imitation, but his influence was long felt in the art world, and many artists who were associated with him in Padua and Mantua later carried on his traditions to some extent in Verona, Ferrara, Modena, Bologna, and Milan. Jacopo da Montagnana was, perhaps, the master who most closely resembled him, some of his work having been actually attributed to Mantegna; but Francesco Benaglio, Liberate da Verona, Francesco Moroni, Girolamo dai Libri, Marco Zoppo, Cosimo Tura, and Lorenzo da Costa owed much to their study of his masterpieces—the last named, who succeeded him as court painter at Mantua, reproducing in his later compositions something of the characteristic style of his predecessor in that office.
It has even been claimed that Correggio, who, according to a long-accepted but now discredited tradition, was supposed to have been the actual pupil of Mantegna, derived much of his inspiration from the older painter. “Both artists,” says Dr. Kristeller in an able examination of the points of affinity between them, “penetrate to the very core of the subject, to the purely human emotion latent within it: equally sensitive and elevated in spirit, both strive enthusiastically after a superhuman existence, full of an enhanced joy in life.... Both seek to break through the confines of the earthly to secure, in immeasurable space, free scope for the power and the magnitude of their figures. The voluptuous swinging lines, the ideally beautiful forms of Mantegna’s figures in his later works, their sweet and thoughtful expression of tranquil bliss and spiritual emotion is in Correggio’s creations only heightened by the passionate sensuousness of his own outlook on the world, by the utmost vivacity of movement, and by his ardent surrender of self to the sensuous as well as to the godlike. But,” adds the German critic, and here he lays his finger on the essential difference between the art and character of the men compared, “sensuousness in Mantegna was neither ignored nor emphasised,” for there was no pandering to the love of sensation in the work of the sincere and earnest master of Mantua, who never represented passion for its own sake, but combined with a true appreciation of the beauty of physical form and the poetry of motion a stern severity of expression peculiarly his own. Both masters pursued the same ideal of beauty, both penetrated to the very heart of their subjects, but the paintings of Mantegna are more elevated in spirit than those of the more widely admired successor, whose forerunner he is said to have been.
There is, it must be admitted, a certain want of dramatic unity marring the effect even of the greatest compositions of the Mantuan painter; but it should not be forgotten that his aim was not the same as that of Raphael, Titian, Holbein, or Memlinc. Even his severest critics are compelled to admit that he fully realised his own ambition, a truly worthy one, to bringthe past into touch with the present, and to pave the way for those who should come after him. His best works display not only consummate draughtsmanship but a power of interpreting intellectual and spiritual emotion, rare amongst his contemporaries, though it was to be bestowed in fullest measure upon many of the masters of the sixteenth century; and he will ever remain, in the opinion of those most competent to judge, one of the greatest of their predecessors.
The plates are printed byBemrose & Sons, Ltd., Derby and LondonThe text at theBallantyne Press, Edinburgh