Anderson photo] [Sixtine Chapel, RomeTHE JOURNEY OF MOSES
The scene on the opposite wall of the “Baptism of Christ” is much fuller of figures than the “Journey of Moses.” Separated incidents are more largely made use of, in the archaic mode which the artists of theRenaissance soon after this abandoned. That the central figures are a copy of Perugino’s “Baptism” at Rouen need be no argument that the latter had an active share in it himself. The angels overhead are the same that Perugino and all his school have reproduced many times, and this interchange or imitation was merely a proper compliment between master and pupil. Pintoricchio here owes no more to Perugino than the latter does to Verrocchio, of whose “Baptism,” in Florence, with the angels kneeling by, we are strongly reminded. St. John is a type of great freshness and individuality: the long lean form has simplicity and directness of action, the shape of hand and foot, the blacker and more angular draperies, are all unlike the master and like the pupil. St. John pours the water with a painstaking, literal intention. In the frescoes by Perugino at Foligno and at Rouen, his eyes are raised, his body thrown gracefully on one side, and the little cup is raised aloft with a sort of symbolical wave, while the contemplative angels kneeling around are very unlike Pintoricchio’s prim little attendants.
In the groups in the background on either hand, listening to the preaching of the Baptist and the Saviour, only one, the St. John on the left, with head raised and inclined and hand on breast, reminds us at all of Perugino. We have a great many of the figures the younger master is so fond of, turning their backs and enveloped in the voluminous folds of great cloaks—amotifwhich is not common with Perugino, but which Pintoricchio makes lavish use of in the Libreria, and which he derives from Fiorenzo, who often brings it in. Here we find the seated woman,for which he has left the drawing, who, with the children clinging to her, looks up and listens to the Baptist on the right, and who, in her gracefully swathed garments, is beautiful enough for the pencil of Botticelli or Agostino di Duccio. We also find a study for the nude figure at the back with outstretched hand. These nudes are among Bernardino’s few attempts at anatomical drawing, to which he never takes kindly. We cannot say that they show much real acquaintance with form, though it is evident that they are from the living model, which at this time he was faithfully seeking to render. Many of the portraits are admirable. It would be difficult to find stronger, more satisfactory heads, more solid in drawing and more full and interesting in expression, than three or four of the heads in the group standing a little way behind Christ, or the old man grasping his napkin on the opposite side, in whom Dr. Steinmann suggests we see the Pope’s brother-in-law, Giovanni Basso della Rovere, who died this year, and whose shrewd features and close shut mouth we recognise again in his tomb in Santa Maria del Popolo. The deepest interest of the picture centres in these fine portraits of men of the time, and in the landscape which, though this fresco is the most injured of all, is still beautiful in its varied light and shade, and in the lie of the ground in hill and slope and distant vale.
Anderson photo] [Sixtine Chapel, RomeTHE BAPTISM OF CHRIST
The old Pope died before the paint was dry upon the walls of the chapel by which his name is best remembered; but long before his companions had got down to the west end, Pintoricchio must have done his share, though he may still have worked at draperiesand minor details in his master’s allotment. What he had achieved had established his reputation, and when he went forth it was as an independent artist, himself an employer of assistants, soon to be the honoured recipient of papal commissions.
To this time we may assign the panel painting of the “Madonna teaching the Child to read,” which is now at Valencia. Indeed, Dr. Schmarsow holds it to be his earliest known work. It was formerly at Xativà, and was sent as a present to his native city by Roderigo Borgia, and was placed later in a chapel which his brother Francesco built to his memory. The crest of the Borgias shows that it was painted for that house, and the donor himself, as a comparatively young man, kneels on the right, with his mitre on the ground by his side.
We can trace the likeness to that other kneeling Pope in the Borgia apartments, though the features are less strongly marked. In this little panel, both the Mother and Child are standing,—He mounted on a chest, upon which the crest is painted; she with one hand tenderly placed on His shoulder, while the other holds the open book. She has the same type to which Pintoricchio was faithful, the egg-shaped face, arched brows and close shut mouth. The heavy folds of the mantle are starred and edged with gold, and the Child’s robe is of rich gold brocade. The picture is full of feeling, but is stiff in drawing and almost Byzantine in style. The delightful little lunette in Sant’ Onofrio in Rome, painted about 1505 by one of his scholars, is adapted from this picture, of which the master must have retained a sketch. The samefollower was employed on the apse, where scenes by Peruzzi alternate with several in Pintoricchio’s manner, though they are far too ill-drawn to be from his hand.
We have no means of deciding what was the first important commission the young painter undertook after he left the Sixtine Chapel. The German critics, however, agree in placing the Buffalini Chapel in Ara Cœli as his next work. Morelli thinks it was later on account of the decoration of “grottesques,” but it has a simplicity and absence of ornament more akin to the Sixtine work than to Pintoricchio’s later gorgeous achievements, and he uses much of the same soft grey colour. It is not unlikely that he would have brought a special commendation from the Buffalini of Perugia to those members settled in Rome, and it is easy to see how fresh in his mind were the architectural traditions of Fiorenzo. The chapel, being painted almost entirely by his own hand, looks as if he had not yet gathered together so many assistants, and a little later, loaded with papal commissions, he would hardly have had time to devote to a private citizen.
It seems to me that we have scarcely any work of his for which we can feel such unalloyed admiration as that in this little chapel in the dim old church upon the Capitoline Hill, where from the midst of classic marbles and pre-historic legends, you pass into the quiet side aisle, and the level rays of the golden evening sunshine that pour through a little west window, light up the story of the mediæval saint as illustrated by his Umbrian name-child.
Hardly any saint could have been more dear and familiar to the sons of mid-Italy than San Bernardinoof Siena, the disciple of their beloved St. Francis, and one who had exercised such a strong and recent influence over his followers. He died only nine years before Pintoricchio was born, and as he grew up the little Bernardino must have heard ardent references to his holy patron from men who had crowded round the pulpit outside the cathedral in Perugia. His gonfalon, painted by Bonfigli, hung in the Church of San Bernardino. His thin face, with its pinched mouth, was familiar to every one, and stories of his wisdom, his virtue, his miracles, were fresh on men’s lips. Pintoricchio must have been well acquainted with the history of the saint’s amicable arrangement of a deadly feud which had raged between the Buffalini and the fierce Baglioni of his native town, and both as aprotégéof San Bernardino and as a Perugian, the commission to paint a chapel in honour of the saint and to commemorate the healing of the quarrel must have made a special appeal to his quick and sensitive fancy. The chapel was probably the gift of Lodovico Buffalini, advocate to the papal consistory, who, we find from an inscription on a stone in the pavement, died in 1506. The painting was for many years almost concealed by a hideous wooden hatchment, and only re-opened again in the last century, which accounts for the excellent preservation it is in.
The little Gothic chapel at the extreme west end of the church lighted by a small west window, has an arched roof with crossed pieces; the side walls are divided by painted pilasters. The whole architectural decoration is in monochrome, in pale brownish grey upon a rich brown ground. On the pilasters on eitherside is a beautiful decoration of fruits and seed-pods in great masses, tied in with ribbons adapted from the antique, and resembling a framework by Mantegna in the Eremitani Chapel at Padua. The frescoes on the walls are separated by long slender candelabra with flaring flames, the stems formed of grotesques, masks grave and grimacing, climbing stags and gambollingputti. The arches of the roof have been profusely enriched with gold, and culminate in a blue and gold boss. Below the altar is a long procession, also in monochrome, captives and warriors, a soldier on horseback dragging a nude woman, others laden with spoils and torches, a conqueror on a triumphal car, with a naked captive bound behind; these are painted with almost impressionist touches, and the horses are much better drawn than we usually expect from Pintoricchio.
In the roof, in four triangles, are the “Four Evangelists”: St. Matthew looking up as for inspiration, dipping his pen in the ink held by a beautiful kneeling angel-figure at his side. Both this figure and that of St. Luke are very broadly and freely painted. Steinmann points out that we find them almost repeated, apparently by a scholar, in the sacristy of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere. This church has been closed for two years for repairs—I have not been able to see the frescoes.
On the west, on either side of the tall narrow window, are two simulated windows. From that nearest the altar the figure of “God the Father,” surrounded by cherubs and golden rays and holding a globe, looks into the chapel and towards the fresco below on the right. The panel to the right is filled by a long row of arches in side-long perspective, and onthe top of a pedestal straddles a charming littleputto, reminding us of Mino da Fiesole’s children on monuments, who bears an axe and shield with the buffalo head, the crest of the Buffalini. In the background there is a trace of landscape seen through a ruined arch, and above, a lunette of the “Madonna and Child,” His foot rests on the heads of two cherubs. In the foreground kneels the small thin figure of “San Bernardino” receiving the monastic habit of the Franciscan order from a father, while his cast-off scarlet robes, his money and box of jewels, lie beside him on the ground. Following the line of the father’s gesture across the wall, we find that it is directed towards St. Francis, who kneels to receive the stigmata with an expression of deep devotion and spiritual insight that Pintoricchio has not often repeated. In the middle, under the window, two monks recount a history to three lay listeners, two of whom are evidently portraits, while a procession of horsemen rides across the background. Whether this relates to the miracle of the stigmata, or has some reference to the feud with the Baglioni, is uncertain.
It is on the opposite wall, and on that above the altar, that the painter has put forth his best efforts, and has produced work which, if he ever equalled, he never surpassed.
In the arches above the left hand wall is “San Bernardino” as he arrayed himself in camel hair and sackcloth and went into the wilderness to study, leaving his rich home and his gay companions in Siena. The population of the city comes out to interview him, grave elders with turbaned heads,young men dressed in the height of fantastic fashion. The saint, absorbed in the study of his Bible, does not even perceive them as they gaze on him with wonder mixed with reverence, recalling the devotion he has already shown during the visit of the plague to Siena. The grass on which he walks is besprinkled with spring flowers, arums with their red seed-pods, hyacinths and anemones; a little stream trickles through the green past mossy tree stumps, and the tall towers of Siena are seen afar in the valley. Below, the whole breadth of wall is devoted to the burial procession of the saint. Here is a great market-place surrounded with airy buildings, such buildings as Fiorenzo had used in those other legends of San Bernardino, which Pintoricchio would naturally have thought of as he drew his design; indeed, we have little difficulty in tracing those which he specially adopted.
Anderson photo] [Church of Ara Cœli, RomeTHE BURIAL OF SAN BERNARDINO
In the fresco of “San Bernardino upon his Bier,” the radiating marbles of the great Piazza stretch away to a Bramante-like temple, arch soaring above arch; flanking the ancestral dwelling of the donor of the chapel, with the buffalo’s head carved above the doorway, and a quaint little scene of a buffalo assaulting the populace on the Piazza. In the foreground stands the bier, upon which, with outstretched feet and folded hands, lies the emaciated figure of the whilom gay young noble of Siena who left all to follow Christ. Round him gather the monks of the order, beggars, women and children. Down from the longloggiaon the left, with the blue and gold decoration copied from Fiorenzo, comes the stately figure in cap and gown of Messer Avocato Lodovico Buffalini himself, face keen,precise yet gentle, figure conscious of position, and the rustle of silken robes, observant too of the young sons, the youth and the boy, who also in robes and close caps upon flowing hair, stand on the opposite side of the bier. In the foreground Pintoricchio has broken the monotony of the rich dark green bier by two of his most charming little children with rounded limbs and gestures half saintly, half childish, while by them lies something stuck in as an afterthought, without meaning, without perspective, a babe in swaddling clothes in a sort of crib or basket. This is the miraculousbambinoof Ara Cœli, the Byzantine doll preserved in the church, which could by no means be left out on such an occasion. The effect of ærial space about the whole composition is very remarkable. The people gather round, life beyond goes its way, and the whole is set in so peaceful and spirit-lifting an environment that it does not need the little sky episode of the saint received into glory to give it spirituality.
So, too, in the “Apotheosis of San Bernardino,” which occupies the altar wall, the sense of space and largeness is the prevailing quality. Overhead, the stiffmandorlawith cherubic heads frames the Saviour, who, standing upon clouds, raises His hand in benediction. This figure, as usual, is not altogether happy in the rendering; but thin and awkwardly drawn as it is, it is not without force or dignity, and has something earnest and lovable in its expression. It is the direct simplicity of Pintoricchio’s manner which saves fromself-consciousness, and gives a serious quality that atones for the want of grandeur. Theremaining figures leave hardly anything to be desired. Italian art can show us few more beautiful single figures than that of St. Louis of Toulouse.[21]The young bishop in his rich episcopal robes and mitre, his pastoral staff laid against his shoulder, while with absorbed earnest look he turns the pages of his great breviary, is one of the most satisfactory creations, full of dignity, goodness and thought, that any artist has shown us. The face is well and strongly modelled, and the outline is simple and large. Sant’ Antonio of Padua on the opposite side, holding his flaring heart in token of burning love, is a feebler figure, and reminds us of some of Perugino’s weaker saints; but San Bernardino himself, in the midst, is full of striking individuality, and there is great simplicity and repose in the outlines of all three figures. Nowhere have more beautiful angels been painted. Pintoricchio has shaken himself out of the conventional slavery of Perugino. These figures making music upon the clouds are full of life and vigour, reminiscent of Melozzo da Forli’s energetic inspiration, while the two who, bearing lilies, kneel and between them raise a golden crown above the saint’s head, are Pintoricchio’s own, instinct with his own fresh and delicate feeling for the beautiful, as lovely in colour as they are in form.
[21]Patron Saint of Lodovico Buffalini.
[21]Patron Saint of Lodovico Buffalini.
The grouping in the burial procession is more successful than usual, and the light and shade more massed. The colouring of all the frescoes is exceedingly harmonious, the greenish greys of the background are very delicate, and the foliage in the fresco overthe altar must have been most beautiful. Touches of bright colour are brought in sparingly, and with good effect. Nothing more satisfactory is to be found in the Umbrian school up to now, than thetout ensembleof the altar wall. The unity and balance of the whole, the variety, yet connection of the subject, the groundwork occupied, yet not crowded, free from spottiness and harsh transition. The palm tree filling the space on the right, the cypress on the left, the maintenance of the distances, relieve the fresco of all stiffness and flatness. The landscape is full of light and atmosphere. On the right we look away to a valley which has never lost the freshness of morning, on the left is a fairyland of sea and distant mountains and little far-away towns, gleaming, blue and mysteriously radiant. The whole shape and position of the country at the back is quite excellent, and in happy contrast to the artificial elegance of colonnades and radiating pavement of its neighbour on the adjoining wall.
Anderson photo] [Church of Ara Cœli, RomeTHE GLORIFICATION OF SAN BERNARDINO
GIULIANO DELLA ROVERE, though his uncle was dead, was still a powerful cardinal when Innocent VIII. succeeded in 1484. He inhabited the Colonna Palace, where Vasari tells us that both Perugino and Pintoricchio worked in his service. Nearly all the Umbrian decorations were swept away later to make room for the work of Poussin and Zuccaro, but the ceiling of one great hall still boasts the design of Pintoricchio. It is a rich and splendid piece of work. Ornaments in chiaroscuro on a blue or gold groundwork frame four little medallions of classic fable or sacred story—“Mucius Scævola” and “Virginia,” the “History of Judith” and of “David.” Hoary river-gods, grasping sheaves of corn and overflowing cornucopias of fruit, recline on the backs of sphinxes, on either side of fountains. More fanciful still are monkeys swinging from ribbons, centaurs prancing,puttiriding goats which are led by older boys, fauns waving banners, owls, garlands and serpents, all set in a rich plastered and painted framework, finished with gold rosettes.
Service in the private palace of the cardinal led on to employment by Pope Innocent, to whom, no doubt, Giuliano recommended Pintoricchio for this class ofwork, for in 1486 he was at work in the Belvedere. It was here that he painted the towns of which Taja speaks. “Not long after,” says Vasari, “about the year 1484, Innocent VIII., a Genoese, made him paint several halls andloggiein the Palace of the Belvedere, where, among other things which the Pope wished for, he painted aloggiaall with towns, and you could discern Rome, Milan, Genoa, Florence, Venice and Naples, all in the Flemish manner, which, being no longer much in use, pleased very well.”[22]No trace of them remains, nor is anything left of the great Madonna picture which Vasari says was painted over the principal entrance. The only remains of Umbrian art are to be found on the walls and ceiling of what is to-day called the Museo Pio Clementino. A gracefulloggiawas half obliterated here to give more room to the sculpture gallery, but above, the arms of Innocent VIII. and the date 1487 are still visible, surrounded by garlands and ornaments resembling those in the Colonna Palace. Little medallions of classic subjects still struggle dimly through decay and ochre wash. In the archways, seven couples ofputtihold the papal shield, or play on musical instruments, and we can trace the proud device of the Cibo, the gleaming peacock and the motto “Loyauté passe tout.”
[22]Vasari, iii. p. 498.
[22]Vasari, iii. p. 498.
In the two little rooms adjoining are prophets and philosophers, and here may be recognised the somewhat archaic assistant who helped Pintoricchio in the Borgia Tower. Only these poor scraps remain of the year’s service with the Cibo Pope, and hardly more of what he accomplished for his cardinals.Domenico della Rovere, the cardinal of San Clemente, was one of Pintoricchio’s earliest patrons in Rome. He does indeed seem to have been as much friend as patron, and took both Perugino and Pintoricchio to lodge with him upon their first arrival in his spacious palace in the Piazza Scossacavalli, outside the entrance of which Pintoricchio painted a scutcheon supported byputti. The decoration of the interior of the palace then called Sant’ Apostoli was also entrusted to him. To-day it is inhabited by eleven brothers of the order of the Penitenzieri. It retains something of the fascination of a princely dwelling of the fourteenth century. In the mouldy courtyard are traces of almost obliterated paintings. Under the roof are heraldic devices, armorial bearings, sphinxes and dolphins. In the courtyard, orange trees grow round a well, which may have been the work of Bramante. Ivy half covers walls which were once gay with frescoes, but among the ruin and decay we see repeated countless times in the marble window frames, the name of the builder—DO. ROVERE, CAR. S. CLEMEN. and his pious device—SOLI DEO. Outside are faint traces of the shield of Sixtus IV. supported by twoputti, the only part of the work which Vasari deigns to notice.
Inside, the three great halls on the ground floor, though partly whitewashed and even built up, keep some remains of past splendour. On a beam can still be read the date at which the palace was finished, 1490.
There is still a good deal of the original gilding left on the wooden ceilings, and where the whitewashhas been scraped away, shadowy heads of apostles are to be seen, and fine and delicate Renaissance ornament. The whole resembles the designs for the Colonna Palace, and what can still be made out appears to be by the master himself, elegant and decisive in touch. All sorts of animals are made use of—a winged stag drinks from a cornucopia, sea-gods and mermaids are instructing nymphs to ride on dolphins, a sphinx plays with a dragon, satyrs are placed in a vintage scene, sirens beguile centaurs with music—all in the fancy of the Revival, exuberant, yet full of dainty grace. Bits of marble work strike the eye here and there—the heraldic bearing of Rovere, the eagle of Alidori; but there is little left to tell us of the glory of the princely house, of the great churchman who built it, or of the Umbrian master he employed to decorate it.
The exultant motto which he placed on a marble tablet to celebrate its completion, looks down from the decaying wall and speaks to us in words half sad, half mocking: “This house shall stand till the ant has drunk up the sea, and till the tortoise has crept round the world.”
This plan of small landscapes and scenes set in a wide framework of fantastic objects, classic and mythological, musical instruments, garlands and ribbons, becoming more and more grotesque, was peculiar at this time to Pintoricchio. He may have taken the idea from walls in old Roman houses, since destroyed, but of which many were uncovered at this period. The same sort of decoration is to be seen to-day in the Roman rooms on the Palatine. Pintoricchio usesthis mode of decoration again in the Borgia Apartments, and from him Raphael borrowed the idea for hisloggie.
The beautiful church of Santa Maria del Popolo, restored by Pope Sixtus in 1472, and subsequently rendered a very storehouse of art by his successors and their cardinal kinsmen, would be, if it had been left with all its original decorations, one of the finest monuments to Pintoricchio’s art in Italy. A great deal still remains, but much has been swept away. We cannot be quite certain of the exact date of each chapel, but his work here, with the exception of the choir, was carried out during the next few years.
The church was a favourite one with the Rovere family. Pope Sixtus himself often went to vespers there. In 1480 he instituted his nephew, Girolamo Riario, as chief warden. Here he came in state to give thanks after the victory of Campo Morto had delivered Rome from the fear of the Calabrian invader. Roderigo Borgia, too, as early as 1473, had given a marble altar to be placed in front of a miracle-working picture of the Madonna. Vasari speaks of two chapels painted by Pintoricchio in this church: one with the history of St. Jerome, for Domenico della Rovere, as a memorial of his brother, Christoforo, who died in 1479; the other for Cardinal Innocenzio Cibo. The Umbrian frescoes were destroyed, and the baroque ornamentation we now see, substituted. There is a third chapel, dedicated to Santa Catarina, in which the painter executed half-lengths of the four evangelists in an arched ceiling, for a Portuguese ecclesiastic, Cardinal Costa.
Finally, a fourth chapel had been the gift of GiovanniBasso della Rovere, the brother-in-law of Pope Sixtus, whose portrait was already painted by Pintoricchio in the fresco of the Baptism in the Sixtine Chapel. Two of the half-lengths of the evangelists—“St. Jerome and Pope Gregory”—though both spoilt and repainted, remain as Pintoricchio’s work, together with two children supporting a scutcheon. In the chapel of St. Augustine, the three sons of Giovanni raised a monument to their father, and some years after his death (to judge by the introduction of grotesques) it was painted in frescoes, which guide-books still assign to Pintoricchio. They are in his manner, and were probably executed while he was working at the choir in 1505, for the papal shield of Julius II., who succeeded in 1503, appears on the ceiling. The “Pietà” in the lunette above the monument may possibly have been painted earlier than the rest of the chapel, and Schmarsow sees in it the hand of Pintoricchio, influenced by Melozzo da Forli. It is difficult to think that he can be answerable for it when we compare it with the “Pietà” over the polyptych at Perugia. The coarse, heavy body of the Christ, the badly-draped loin cloth, the clumsy attitude of the expressionless angels, seem rather to be the work of some pupil from North Italy, with a mingling of the Teutonic, and have nothing in common with the delicate and devotional Umbrian rendering, so evidently inspired by Perugino.
In the “Assumption,” which fills the opposite wall, the figures are too ill drawn to allow us to think they can be Pintoricchio’s. The arms are too short, the feet out of drawing, the figure of the Madonna is unnaturally long, with sloping shoulders. Crowe andCavalcaselle were the first to suggest as its author Matteo Balducci, a painter who has left several panels at Siena, which were for long assigned to Pintoricchio, under whom he worked in Rome. The “Virgin and Child, with Saints” over the altar is a very inferior work, entirely repainted. Round the top of the wall runs a series of scenes from the life of the Virgin. These have been attributed to the North Italian, Morto da Feltre. They are certainly not by Pintoricchio.
There remains, then, only the little chapel of St. Jerome, which, in spite of some restoration and some destruction, we can attribute to the master. It has the freshness of early work, and both in colouring and style is akin to that of San Bernardino in Ara Cœli, while the influence of Fiorenzo has re-asserted itself. Over the altar is the “Nativity,” which bears so close a resemblance to the older master’s “Adoration” at Perugia. In the finished sketch at Venice, for the tender figure of the Madonna, the drapery has the stair-like gradations of folds on both sides, which Morelli points out as characteristic of him, and the same critic draws attention to the type of hand, with long, bony fingers, that we find in his later Madonna dei Fossi. The landscape, which is soft and deep in tone, resembles that of the frescoes in the Sixtine Chapel. In two, at least, of the little series of the life of St. Jerome, we recognise Pintoricchio’s own hand. In one, the doctors of the Church come to visit the saint after he has retired to the desert. The study for the lion in this scene is in his sketch-book. On the other side of the chapel is the exquisite little panel in which St. Jerome argues a point ofdoctrine with an infidel. This is a bit of genre-painting with all the charm the Umbrian painters understood so well. The red-robed saint sits in his great arm-chair; opposite him is placed a stately doctor in blue. Disciples are grouped on either hand, some have turbaned heads to suggest their unbelieving origin. Behind stand favourite dogs, and St. Jerome’s faithful lion. The scene is lit up by the painting of a little window in the centre, through which the company looks out on a sunny landscape, with trees and a lake lying in mellow light and floating evening shades. A rich cloth hangs across the broad sill. The idea of the little outlook, throwing air and contrast into the interior, is one often afterwards elaborated by Pintoricchio, and apparently was suggested to him by a panel in Fiorenzo’s miracles of San Bernardino.
In the Capitol is a fresco painting which Mr. Berenson ascribes to our master. Vasari speaks of his having painted such an altar-piece, but this, if the same, was entirely repainted in 1834. The colour of the angels’ robes was changed—one from red to yellow, the other from yellow to white. The Virgin’s robe, now blue, was originally green. The face is painted out of all recognition. The shape is not oval, the mouth is full with parted lips, and the hair falls on either side of the face. The angels, with knees bending outward, are not Pintoricchio’s type—only the Child recalls his Infant in the “Nativity” of Santa Maria del Popolo and the hands are like his in outline.
In the tribune of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme is a great composition of the “Finding of the True Cross,” which tradition has assigned to him among othersand which has strong traces of Umbrian workmanship. This is entirely and heavily repainted, and its artistic value isnil, except for the design. We should welcome even such an obscured reminiscence as this, if it remained to us, of the paintings in Castel Sant’ Angelo. On a blue, starred vault, the Saviour is surrounded by amandorlaof cherubs. Below, St. Helena stands, holding the cross, with the donor, Cardinal Carvajal, kneeling at her feet. On either side are the miracles attending its recovery. On the left, the Emperor Heraclius rides in triumph, bearing the cross, rescued from infidels, to the city gates. The groups of women on the extreme left, and some of those standing behind the Empress-saint, are full of likeness to Pintoricchio’s figures in the “Journey of Moses,” and the landscape (the only part which has not been quite repainted), with its purple tints, overhanging rocks, and parties of wayfarers, recalls the work of Fiorenzo. The whole has something of the direct simplicity of Pintoricchio’s narratives, but other figures remind us of Signorelli—the forms are heavy and lumpy, and it is probably only by a follower, though one who closely imitated the Umbrian master.
THERE is perhaps hardly a place in Rome where you feel so transported into the heart of that old life of the Renaissance, as you do in the Borgia Apartments. After mid-day it is almost empty of sightseers; and in the long rooms, where the silence is only broken by the splash of the fountain in the quiet, grassy court outside, you realise the setting of the passionate lives that once ran their course here. Here the light caught Lucrezia’s golden hair, here the famous pontiff rustled in his brocaded robes, and Cæsar Borgia strode in gilded armour. Here great ambitions were matured, and blackest crimes consummated; and here, too, came and went the little, deaf, beauty-loving painter from the Umbrian hills, and drew his cartoons, and spaced his decorations, and overlooked his army of workmen, and left us as splendid a scheme of rich ornament as the quattro-cento has to show.
The preservation of these rooms is due to their having been for so long shut up. Pope Julius, moved partly by reprobation of the crimes of his predecessor, partly by hatred of the whole house of Borgia, refused to live in the apartments; but at the end of the sixteenth century the nephews of Leo XI. used them for a time. For two centuries they seem to have been uninhabited,and the Abbé Taja in 1750 laments this abandonment, and deplores their loss to all lovers of the fine arts. Later, in the eighteenth century, we learn from Chattard[23]that they were used for the meals of cardinals and officials who assembled during Holy Week. In 1816, when, in consequence of the peace of Tolentino, the precious collection of pictures was sent back from Paris, some of them were collected in the Borgia apartments, and the marble cross-bars of the windows were replaced by iron ones to give more light. The light was, however, so bad that the pictures were removed, and a miscellaneous museum and library took their place.
[23]Nuova descrizione del Vaticano, ii. 58.
[23]Nuova descrizione del Vaticano, ii. 58.
In 1891 the present Pope, Leo XIII., moved the library, and the delicate task of restoration began. The book-shelves and marbles had cracked and destroyed the plaster in places, and in the time of Pius VII. some varnish had been applied to the ceilings, making a sort of crust. The restoration has been carried out with the greatest care under the direction of Signor Lodovico Seitz, and has fortunately been restricted to repairing the plaster and stucco, and to cleaning the frescoes from dust and damp. Though in some parts of the fifth and sixth halls the stucco has been taken off, the walls reconstructed, and the surface refixed, it has been done with such nicety that no mark is perceptible, and retouching, with one or two trifling exceptions, has been absolutely tabooed. What repainting there is dates from the time of Pius VII., but is fortunately slight. This applies to the actual paintings.
Most of the decorations of the lower walls havebeen repainted, following the fragmentary traces that remained, or, where these were quite obliterated, they have been replaced with harmonious hangings. The minor decorations of the halls are a study in themselves, and are the more interesting as it is evident that the artist has superintended the whole, subordinating the marble work, the painting of the lower panels, and even the tiled floor to suit his scheme of colour.
It is extraordinary that no contract for these rooms has been discovered. No sign of the agreement for them remains in Alexander Borgia’s account book. It is only from incidental mention in letters to and from Orvieto, and from payments made, that we can find out when the work was begun, and how long it lasted.
Messrs. Ehrle and Stevenson, in their monumental work on the Borgia Apartments, show very clearly that Pintoricchio’s part only began with the second room. The private or living rooms of the Pope at that time were the second, or the Hall of Mysteries; the third, the Hall of Saints; and the fourth, or Arts and Sciences, besides the two withdrawing rooms. Vasari knew this quite well at the end of the sixteenth century. It is only with Chattard, about 1764, that the whole of the six rooms were said to have been decorated for Alexander VIII. In Vasari’s life of Pintoricchio, he says the Pope made him paint the rooms he inhabited, and the Borgia Tower; and, more clearly still, in the life of Perino del Vaga, he says the latter was painting the vault of the Sala Pontifici, by which you enter the rooms of Pope Alexander,already painted by Pintoricchio. Taking off this room, there remain five, to which he assigned three years.
Our knowledge of contracts of the time enable us to construct pretty accurately what must have been the conditions of the missing agreement. The master would have been required to use the best colours, to begin and end within certain time limits, to design all the cartoons, and to paint the faces and principal parts with his own hand. We can gather from the existing work that Pintoricchio performed his share of such a contract honestly; assistants were evidently and inevitably employed, but the homogeneous character of the whole is remarkable, and proves, not only that the painter’s supervision must have been incessant, but also that he had the power of directing and overseeing his pupils’ work, so as to keep their individuality in sufficient abeyance to his own guiding influence. That he had by this time his own workshop of helpers and skilled painters working under him we do not doubt, but I do not think that any critics who have studied the consistent character of the work, now doubt that he had the supreme direction, and that he was undisturbed by rivals. The unity of ornament, too, leads us to believe that he directed and designed all this part himself. Probably the marble work is by Andrea Bregno, who had been working with him in the Sixtine Chapel, and Santa Maria del Popolo.
Something of the beauty which greets us in these halls we owe to the mellowing hand of time; yet even when new, the effect must have been rich and glowing, brilliant and deep rather than gaudy, and all is planned to suit the subdued light of a northern aspect. Thesquare, not very high rooms are spaced, divided, and slightly vaulted with the most consummate skill. The rich soft colours, the heavy gold, the airy outlook of landscape, the glowing background, give an effect, choice, jewelled, of an exquisite finish, of a sensuous gratification, almost without parallel. The imagination furnishes the empty chambers with all the choice objects they once contained. The priceless majolica, the gold and silver vessels, the brocaded hangings, the ivory carvings—what a background for the scenes of love and revelry once enacted here! The thrum of music, the laughter and wit and boisterous merriment, the muttered conferences, the whispered plotting, the ghastly treacheries, the dying groans. In one of these rooms, the Hall of Arts, the first husband of the young Lucrezia was murdered. In the adjoining room the Pope himself died in agonies. On these and on what other deeds of darkness and despair and triumphant villainy have these chaste and innocent conceptions of Pintoricchio looked down. It gives them a curious attraction, born of incongruity; as a writer says: “They have all the fascination of ‘fleurs du mal.’”
It was about this time that the grotesque first crept into art. Dr. Schmarsow thinks that the earliest signs may be detected in the Borgia Apartments. The early art of the Renaissance had shown a preference for the classic, inspired by the decorations on antique marbles. The objects were clear and simple, human beings, animals, keeping true to nature, ornamented with garlands, ribbons, and other accessories, fanciful, but not fantastic. The origin of the expression “grottesque,” which is first used in Pintoricchio’s contract in Sienain 1502, is explained by Benvenuto Cellini in 1571. It was taken from the objects found by students of art who explored antique monuments in caverns or grottoes. Paintings, ornamented with grotesques, were crowded with objects all complicated, twisted and adapted, masks, swans with abnormally long necks, fabulous monsters, unnatural flowers. Exuberantly as Pintoricchio afterwards uses such objects, the tendency is only seen slightly here and in the Buffalini chapel. His work in the first hall (the Hall of Mysteries) of the life of our Lord, has something of a mediæval tendency. The scenes are seven in number: “The Annunciation,” “The Nativity,” “The Adoration of the Magi,” “The Resurrection,” “The Ascension,” “The Descent of the Holy Spirit,” and “The Assumption of the Virgin.” The composition of all is of the simplest, no strong emotions are rendered, and the figures are all of that peaceful and primitive devotion suited to the ruling of the early Church, and recalling Fiorenzo and Bonfigli. Indeed, the contrast is great between the simplicity of ornament and more ambitious, scientific spirit in the Sixtine, and the return here to the conventional composition and the mediæval fondness for accessory. Both “The Annunciation” and “The Adoration of the Magi” are of the Umbro-Perugian type. Pintoricchio repeats the angel of the first scene again at Spello, with several other figures. In the radial lines of the pavement we recognise the example of Perugino in the Sixtine fresco. The whole scene in the stately halls opening out in a beautiful landscape, is full of soft dignity. The rose-pink of the angels’ robes, thepeacock-blues and greens of Mary’s garments, the rose-wreath, the lilies, make a luscious combination of colour. It is the impassionate character, the childlike and unconscious spirit of all Pintoricchio’s creations that gives them such a piquancy, in contrast to their splendid setting.
Anderson photo] [Borgia Apartments, Vatican, RomeTHE ANNUNCIATION
Dr. Auguste Schmarsow, of all the critics, is the one who has given most careful study to these frescoes and has brought most knowledge and erudition to bear upon them. He divides a great deal of the execution among the various schools to which he thinks Pintoricchio’s assistants belonged, and his assignments, if not to be taken as actual facts, are worth considering—it being allowed that the whole is due to one designer. All critics concur in giving the figures in the “Annunciation” to the master. In the next, the “Nativity,” the Virgin and Child are also from Pintoricchio’s own hand, and many details recall the altar-piece in Santa Maria del Popolo. The “Adoration of the Magi” is attributed to a Lombard, except the boy at the right, who is by a pupil of Botticelli. We should be sorry to hold Pintoricchio immediately responsible for the ill-drawn Child and awkward hands in this fresco; and in the patterns on the dresses and the terra-cotta mouldings of the buildings we see the Lombard taste. In the “Resurrection” we have the broken tomb, the risen Saviour, and the guards in armour, set in a landscape of rocky ground and cypresses.
The principal figure, upon a gilded glory, set round with cherubs’ heads and tongues of flame and grasping a banner, is far too ill-drawn for the master, andSchmarsow gives it entirely to a Lombard. The guards are all of a refined Umbrian type, full of spirit and intelligence, and Dr. Steinmann suggests that we may have here portraits of Cæsar Borgia and his brother, who at the time would be boys of seventeen and eighteen. It is, as he argues, difficult to say what other portraits (and that they are portraits is evident) would be allowed in the same scene with that of the donor, Pope Alexander himself, who kneels on the left hand, the most conspicuous figure of the whole group, clothed in a gorgeous mantle, embossed with gold, his hands raised in prayer. His face has a strong beaked nose, low forehead, heavy jowl, double chin and crafty eye, and the tonsure shows the unusual development of the back of the skull. It is a splendidly realistic portrait, full of strength and truth, and clever modelling of the heavy fleshy face. This is entirely by Pintoricchio, who naturally would not leave such an important detail to any inferior hand. It is in unconscious satire that the Pope raises his clasped hands and eyes to the figure of the risen Lord, and that the inscription is to be read—like a sentence from the Judgment Seat—“I wait for my resurrection.” These figures, in contrast to some of the puppet-like ones in the two preceding frescoes, are full of life, vivid and solid. In “The Ascension,” painted on the archway over the window, the figure of Christ is the same in attitude if not in drapery. The whole is feebly drawn, and the gestures of the Apostles show a great want of unity. In this composition Schmarsow sees an imitation of Melozzo da Forli, while the heads and drapery are of the schoolof the Sienese, Bernardino Fungai, and by the same hand as the prophets on the roof nearest the window.