A Popular Handbook to the National Gallery, Volume I, Foreign Schools

A very dainty little work. Notice especially the painting of the bas-reliefs and of the decanters. The attitudes of the disciples betoken respect or veneration, except that of the nearest figure, Judas, who turns away his head.

1128. THE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST

Luca Signorelli (Cortona: 1441-1523).

Signorelli was born at Cortona, on the boundary of Umbria and Tuscany. By early teaching he is an Umbrian, but in style a Florentine. Indeed, his position in the history of art is that of forerunner of Michael Angelo. He was a pupil of Piero della Francesca, with whom, no doubt, he acquired a knowledge of the figure from anatomical study of the nude. His chief works, the frescoes in the cathedral of Orvieto,219– executed by the artist after his sixtieth year, – were ten years earlier than the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel by Michael Angelo, who was largely influenced by Signorelli's example. Like Michael Angelo, Signorelli is intensely dramatic, and in pictures which do not allow of the violent action to be found in his frescoes, his figures seem to be instinct with suppressed action. "To no other contemporary painter," says Morelli, "was it given to endow the human frame with the like degree of passion, vehemence, and strength" (Roman Galleries, p. 92). "To this we may add," says another critic, "that no other painter has ever conceived humanity with the same stately grandeur and in the same broad spirit. The confident strength of youth, the stern austerity of middle life, the resolute solemnity of old age – these are his themes. Signorelli is, before all, the painter of the dignity of human life" (Maud Cruttwell, Luca Signorelli, p. 31.) He is a representative also of the literary and classical Renaissance. He is fond of architectural adornments in the style of his time – as in the present picture, where the ceremony takes place in a hall or porch enriched with bas-reliefs in circular panels and paved with square slabs of coloured marbles. He painted the usual religious pictures, but did not adhere to the traditional modes, and often introduced a classical element (see 1133). It is interesting to note that in his picture of some nude Greek gods (at Berlin) the composition is the same as in his regulation church pictures of the Madonna and Saints. Of Signorelli's personal life there is a pleasant account in Vasari, whose kinsman he was. He was a person of consequence in his native city, going hither and thither to paint commissions, and then returning to the discharge of his civic duties. "He lived splendidly, in the manner," says Vasari, "rather of a noble and a gentleman than in that of a painter." Not that he despised his profession, for he expressly advised that his little kinsman should "by all means learn to draw, that he may not degenerate, for even though he should hereafter devote himself to learning, yet the knowledge of design, if not profitable, cannot fail to be honourable and advantageous." Of Signorelli's own devotion to his art Vasari tells another story, which has thus been versified —

Vasari tells that Luca Signorelli,The morning star of Michael Angelo,Had but one son, a youth of seventeen summers,Who died…Still Luca spoke and groaned not; but he raisedThe wonderful dead youth, and smoothed his hair,Washed his red wounds, and laid him on a bed…Naked and beautiful…Then Luca seized his palette: hour by hourSilence was in the room; none durst approach:Morn wore to noon, and noon to eve, when shylyA little maid peeped in and saw the painterPainting his dead son with unerring hand-stroke,Firm and dry-eyed before the lordly canvas.Symonds, Renaissance, iii. 281.

Our picture is thus described by Vasari, – for the fact that he calls it a fresco is no argument against the identification, since he often makes such mistakes: "In the church of San Francesco, in Volterra, this master painted a fresco, representing the Circumcision of Christ. This also is considered a wonderfully beautiful picture, but the Child having been injured by the damp, was repaired by Sodoma, whereby the beauty was much diminished. And, of a truth, it would often be much better to retain the works of excellent masters, though half-spoiled, than suffer them to be retouched by less capable artists." Vasari, however, seems to have been "anxious to place Sodoma in a bad light whenever he could. Damp was in all probability not the cause of the restoration of the infant Christ. It was very likely repainted because the public of Volterra disliked the realism with which Signorelli seems to have treated the subject" (Richter, p. 48). Signorelli's children are curiously ugly: it seems as if he had no sympathy except in the painting of figures of powerful maturity. Of the fact of the repainting recorded by Vasari there is no doubt; for the position of the legs has been altered, their original action being distinctly shown by the incised outline still visible through the deep blue colour of the Virgin's robe. The painting of the other figures is "bold and resolute, the draperies sweep in broad folds round them. The attitude of the standing woman to the right is grand, and the earnest concentration of the faces on the ceremony, and the absence of any connecting link between them and us, give dramatic reality to the scene" (Cruttwell, p. 40). It is interesting to note that the figure of the operator is like the portrait of himself which Signorelli introduced into his frescoes of the Preaching of Anti-Christ at Orvieto: the figure is, moreover, clothed in the dress of the period and of the rich materials in which, Vasari says, the artist took much pleasure in dressing himself. Behind the central group is the aged Simeon, who blessed God and said, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word."

1129. KING PHILIP IV. OF SPAIN

Velazquez (Spanish: 1599-1660). See 197.

The king is younger here than in 745; hanging from his chain is the order of the Golden Fleece. Notice also that the head is not so minutely painted here as in 745; that being a bust portrait would be seen near, this being a full-length would naturally be placed above the level of the eye. The smaller picture might be called, in the art-slang of to-day, "a harmony in black and gold"; this, from the shimmer on its lace and the flashing on the rapier hilt, "a harmony in black and silver."

"Strange lot," exclaims a biographer of Velazquez, with reference to the painter's portraits of the king, "to be the Apelles of this inactive Alexander. For thirty-seven long years always painting the same effigy! For throughout all these years Philip's features preserved a marvellous, a startling uniformity. In the black silk court dress, in the hunting suit, in the military uniform, in the white satin robe of state, in the gilded steel armour, in the festive religious attire – kneeling, standing, mounted – the same stereotyped head is still there with its everlasting steadfast gaze. It may change from lean to full, from the fresh smooth features of youth and those of manhood, marked by the lines of passion, to the leaden, swollen, and rigid lineaments of age; but even at a distance it is still instantly recognised. Who can mistake the long oval, with its pale whitish complexion, and cold phlegmatic glance of the great blue eyes under the high forehead, and light stiffly-curled hair, strong flat lips and massive chin, the whole overcast with an expression of pride that repels all advances and suppresses all outward show of feeling? He is said to have laughed but thrice in his life; and although the statement might be questioned, it was still good enough to point a sally in one of Calderon's plays" (Justi's Velazquez and his Times, pp. 107, 108).

1130. CHRIST WASHING HIS DISCIPLES' FEET

Tintoretto (Venetian: 1518-1584). See 16.

Some remarks made by Ruskin on another version by Tintoret of the same subject are not inappropriate to this dark and probably faded picture.220 "One circumstance is noticeable as in a considerable degree detracting from the interest of most of Tintoret's representations of our Saviour with his disciples. He never loses sight of the fact that all were poor, and the latter ignorant; and while he never paints a senator or a saint, once thoroughly canonised, except as a gentleman, he is very careful to paint the Apostles in their living intercourse with the Saviour in such a manner that the spectator may see in an instant, as the Pharisee did of old, that they were unlearned and ignorant men; and, whenever we find them in a room, it is always such a one as would be inhabited by the lower classes… We are quickly reminded that the guests' chamber or upper room ready prepared was not likely to have been in a palace, by the humble furniture upon the floor" (Stones of Venice, Venetian Index, under "Moisé, Church of St.") In front is St. Peter, placing his foot in a brazen basin and bending forward with a deprecating action – in contrast to which is the look of cheerful and almost amused alacrity on the part of Him who came not to be ministered unto, but to minister. Behind are other disciples pressing forward with reverent curiosity. Another, in the right-hand corner of the foreground, has raised his foot on a bench and is drying it with a cloth. To the left a female attendant holds a taper, whilst in the background are other figures, one of whom reclines before a fire.

1131. JOSEPH AND HIS KINDRED IN EGYPT

Jacopo Carucci da Pontormo (Florentine: 1494-1557).

Jacopo Carucci, commonly called Pontormo, from his birthplace of that name (a town on the road from Pisa to Florence), was a scholar of Andrea del Sarto, and was employed with his master in decorating the outer court of the SS. Annunziata at Florence. His fresco there of the "Visitation" is, for the grandeur of the figures and beauty of the colouring, worthy of Andrea himself. Pontormo was one of the most original "characters" among those described by Vasari. His pictures were much sought after, but "he would never work but at such moments as he pleased, and for such persons as chanced to be agreeable to him, insomuch that he was frequently sought by gentlemen who desired to possess some work from his hand, but for whom he would do nothing; yet at that very time he would probably be employing himself zealously for some inferior and plebeian person. One of the Medici had been greatly pleased with a picture by Pontormo, and said that in reward for it he might ask whatever he pleased and should have his wish granted. But such was, I know not whether to say the timidity, or the too great respect and modesty of this man, that he asked nothing better than just so much money as would enable him to redeem a cloak which he had hastily pledged." Many other interesting tales of Pontormo will be found in Vasari – of his love of secrecy, his curious manner of life, and the dead bodies he kept in troughs of water, so to paint more realistically the victims of the Deluge. This last tale is characteristic of Pontormo's place in the history of art, which for the most part was that of an exaggerated mannerist after Michael Angelo. In the National Gallery we see him at his best. His portraits are uniformly excellent, and his "Joseph in Egypt" is mentioned by Vasari as his most successful work – "whether as regards the power of invention displayed, the grouping of the figures, the animation of the heads, or the variety and beauty of the attitudes."

This crowded and fantastic composition contains a drama in five acts describing incidents in the life of Joseph in Egypt (see Genesis xlvii. 1-6, 13-26; xlviii. 1-14). (1) On the left Pharaoh, in a white turban, and surrounded by attendants, is met by Joseph and his brethren, who stand before him in attitudes of supplication. The youth sitting on the steps with a basket in his hand is a portrait (Vasari tells us) of the painter's pupil, Bronzino. (2) On the right of the foreground Joseph, seated on a triumphal car drawn by naked children, stoops forward towards a man who kneels and presents a petition. (3) In the middle distance there is an animated group of men ("Wherefore shall we die before thine eyes, both we and our land?"). (4) On the steps leading up to the circular building on the right, Joseph is leading one of his sons to see the dying Jacob; he is followed by the "steward of the house," a conspicuous figure in a long crimson robe. The other boy appears at the top of the steps and is embraced by his mother. (5) Inside the room Jacob is represented as giving his blessing to the two boys, Ephraim and Manasseh, who are presented to him by their father. The antique statues which adorn the building were often given by mediæval artists as characteristic of Egypt, from which the art of Greece was believed to have been derived (see Richter's Italian Art in the National Gallery, pp. 36-40).

The removal of this picture has been blasted by a woman's curse. It was painted for a Florentine noble, named Borgherini; and when he was exiled, the civic authorities sent to his house to buy up all its works of art, which were to be sent as a present to the King of France. But Borgherini's wife received the official with "reproaches of intolerable bitterness," says Vasari, "such as had never before been hurled at living man: 'How then! Dost thou, vile broker of frippery, miserable huckster of twopences, dost thou presume to come hither with intent to lay thy fingers on the ornaments which belong to the chambers of gentlemen? despoiling, as thou hast long done, and as thou art for ever doing, this our city of her fairest ornaments to embellish strange lands therewith? Depart from this house, thou and thy myrmidons.'" The lady's anger preserved the picture – only to be afterwards seduced away, by English gold, into the Duke of Hamilton's Collection, from which it was bought for the National Gallery in 1882. Borgherini's commission for the works in question is thus described by Vasari: —

"It chanced that Pier Francesco Borgherini had at that time caused rich carvings in wood to be executed by Baccio d' Agnolo for the decoration of coffers, backs of chairs, seats of different forms, with a bedstead in walnut wood, all of great beauty, and intended for the furnishing forth of an apartment. He therefore desired that the paintings thereof should be equal to the rest of the ornaments. To that end he commissioned Andrea del Sarto to paint the history of Joseph in figures of no great size, and these our artist was to execute in competition with other artists," – Ubertino and Pontormo among the number (Vasari, iii. 201, iv. 353).

Ubertino's paintings for this sumptuous bedroom as well as that of Pontormo have now found their way into our Gallery (see 1218, 1219).

1132. THE VESTIBULE OF A LIBRARY

Hendrick Steenwyck, the younger (Flemish: 1580-1649).

The elder painter of this name was one of the first to give us those architectural interiors, which later became a specialty among various painters (see Havard's Dutch School, p. 53). His son, the younger Steenwyck, adopted the same line of art. He came to London before 1629, and was much employed in supplying architectural backgrounds to the royal portraits by Van Dyck and to other pictures. He died in London after 1649.

A picture for architects to look at. It is the interior of a vestibule giving access to a library, and is full of inventiveness. Notice, too, how beautifully the accessories – the tablecloth, the vase of flowers, etc., are painted.

1133. THE NATIVITY

Luca Signorelli (Cortona: 1441-1523). See 1128.

A dramatic representation in one canvas of the Gospel story told in Luke ii. 1-17. Scene 1. "And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Cæsar Augustus, that all the world should be enrolled." This is represented by the Roman portico behind the central group, under which, at a long table, is seated a row of scribes, who are entering the names of the people. Scene 2. "And Joseph went up … to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife … and she brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in the manger." This is the subject of the central scene. But the artist, no longer bound by conventional rules, treats his text freely. There is no manger, but the stable is suggested by the heads of the ox and the ass at the side; and instead of the Babe being found "wrapped in swaddling clothes," it is naked. Joseph, in orange and crimson robes, is full of benevolence. The shepherds on the left are in deep reverence. The Virgin is robed in deep blue and green, typical of the depth and mystery of her divine love. In the interstices of the central group are three angels with golden hair and rainbow-hued wings – "calm shining sons of morn." Scene 3. On the left is a group of shepherds: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night." The angel of the Lord is appearing unto them from heaven, and they are sore afraid, shielding their eyes from the heavenly light. Scene 4. On the right of the spectator, and seen through an arch of natural rock, is a shepherd playing on the pipe. This figure suggests the antique; he is crowned with ivy leaves and might almost be Orpheus. Thus, instead of representing the "Glory to God in the highest" being sung by "a multitude of the heavenly host," Signorelli gives us a Greek singer – a variation thoroughly characteristic of the classical revival of his time.

The landscape is also thoroughly characteristic of the mediæval mind, which loved the fields but dreaded the mountains. See here, for instance, how lovingly the flowers in the foreground are painted, and note the trailing ivy in the centre of the picture, as well as the flowers and ferns; whereas the rocks upon which these latter grow are altogether impossible in form and position (see Modern Painters, vol. iii. pt. iv. chs. xiv. and xv., where the landscape of Dante, of whom Signorelli was a close student, is analysed). The artist's signature is inscribed on the frieze of the portico. Some, however, have questioned its authenticity and declare the picture to be a weak imitation of the master.

1134. MADONNA AND CHILD

Liberale da Verona (Veronese: 1451-1535).

Liberale di Giacomo, of Verona, was brought up as a miniaturist, and his works in that sort, executed before he was out of his teens, are much admired for their fancy and sumptuous colour. The choral books which he executed for Monte Oliveto are now in the cathedral of Chiusi. Returning to Verona, Liberale took to painting on a large scale, and became one of the most esteemed artists of the Veronese School. "One of his best works is the Martyrdom of St. Sebastian in the Brera, in which he has introduced an interesting architectural background with Venetian palaces on a canal, designed with much spirit and minuteness. In consequence of his bold and vigorous style his works are occasionally attributed to Mantegna" (Kugler). Many of his pictures are still at Verona.

One of "the small spiritless Madonna pictures which he produced carelessly and hastily in his old age, and supplied for niggardly pay to the citizens of Verona. They served as wedding presents, and Liberale has only himself to thank if this degenerate practice should have spoilt his reputation" (Dr. Richter in the Art Journal, Feb. 1895).

1135, 1136. THE CLEMENCY OF TRAJAN

Unknown (Veronese School: 15th century).

These two panels, which clearly formed two sides of an ornamental box, represent a favourite subject with Italian painters of the period. The story is that an ancient widow of Rome stopped the Emperor Trajan as he was about to proceed on one of his foreign expeditions, and asked for justice against the murderers of her son, who is here seen lying dead on the roadway. Trajan suggested that she should wait till his return. She replied that the emperor might be killed in battle. "Then," said Trajan, "my successor will attend to the business." "But why," she urged, "not decide the case at once?" The emperor on second thoughts did so, and the second panel shows him on the judgment seat. He called the culprits before him, spared their lives, but made them pay heavy damages to the widow. This incident was engraved, together with the record of his victories, on Trajan's column.

1137. PORTRAIT OF A BOY

Jacob van Oost the Elder (Flemish: 1600-1671).

This painter was born at Bruges, and his pictures are very numerous in his native town. He painted principally religious subjects in the style of the Carracci, whose works he had studied in Italy. Of his portraits, this work – signed with his monogram,221 and dated 1650 – is the best.

A boy of eleven – so the inscription on the right-hand corner states – Mr. Pater's Sebastian van Storck, it might be.

"It was a winter scene, by Adrian van de Velde, or by Isaac van Ostade… Sebastian van Storck, confessedly the most graceful performer in all the skating multitude moving in endless maze over the vast surface of the frozen water-meadow, liked best this season of the year for its expression of a perfect impassivity, or at least of a perfect repose. The earth was, or seemed to be, at rest, with a breathlessness of slumber which suited the young man's peculiar temper… Yet with all his appreciation of the national winter, Sebastian was not altogether a Hollander. His mother, of Spanish descent and Catholic, had given a richness of tone and form to the healthy freshness of the Dutch physiognomy, apt to preserve its youthfulness of aspect far beyond the period of life usual with other peoples. This mixed expression charmed the eyes of Isaac van Ostade, who had painted his portrait at one of those skating parties, with his plume and squirrel's tail and fur muff, in all the modest pleasantness of boyhood" (Imaginary Portraits, p. 92).

1138. THE CRUCIFIXION

Andrea del Castagno (Florentine: 1390-1457).

There is a rough vigour in this picture which agrees well with what we know of the painter. His father was a labouring man. Left an orphan in his boyhood, Andrea herded the cattle of an uncle at the hamlet of Castagno (whence the painter's name). He was first stimulated to study art by chancing to come across an itinerant painter at work on a rustic tabernacle. He began to draw upon the walls with charcoal or his knife, and showed therein so much ability that he attracted the notice of Benedetto de' Medici, who took the youth to Florence and placed him under proper tuition. Such is Vasari's story. But Benedetto's patronage did not save Andrea from a hard struggle with adversity. At the age of forty he is found declaring that he had neither bed, board, nor lodging in Florence, and was so poor that in illness he had to take shelter in a public hospital. These declarations were made, however, in a taxing return. Subsequently Andrea received various commissions in the palaces and churches of Florence, and from the Government. For the latter he painted on the wall of the palace of the Podestà the gibbeted bodies of those who were declared rebels on the recall from banishment of Cosimo de' Medici. Most of Andrea's works have perished; the few that remain in Florence display "a rude and coarse energy and an independent and original spirit, but are seldom attractive, either in form or colour" (Kugler). He is said to have painted in oil, but no work by him in that medium exists. Vasari's story in this connection, that he assassinated Domenico Veneziano, is demonstrably false (see under 766).

This picture is impressive in its solemn gloom. The impenitent thief writhes in agony, the suffering Christ casts his last glance at his mother, who, with St. John the beloved disciple, stands below in speechless grief. "The most beautiful in colour of all early works" (Ford Madox Brown in Magazine of Art, 1890, p. 134). Andrea's treatment of the subject, as also Antonello's (1166), is remarkable for simplicity and realism. In most representations of the Crucifixion the central tragedy is partially lost in the large groups of bystanders (e. g. 718, 1048, 1088), and various symbolical figures are introduced – as, for instance, flying angels around the cross. Even in Giotto's fresco at Padua this feature is introduced. Indeed "in all the pictures of the Crucifixion by the great masters, with the single exception perhaps of that by Tintoret in the church of San Cassiano at Venice, there is a tendency to treat the painting as a symmetrical image, or collective symbol of sacred mysteries, rather than as a dramatic representation" (Ruskin's Giotto, p. 149). For an example of a symbolic representation, in contrast to the severe simplicity of the picture before us, see No. 1478.