Chapter 4
_Portraits of Titian's daughter Lavinia--Death of Aretino--"Martyrdom of St. Lawrence"--Death of Charles V.--Attempted assassination of Orazio Vecellio--"Diana and Actaeon" and "Diana and Calisto"--The "Comoro Family"--The "Magdalen" of the Hermitage--The "Jupiter and Antiope" and "Rape of Europa"--Vasari defines Titian's latest manner--"St. Jerome" of the Brera--"Education of Cupid"--"Jacopo da Strada"--Impressionistic manner of the end--"Ecce Homo" of Munich--"Nymph and Shepherd" of Vienna--The unfinished "Pietà"--Death of Titian_.
It was in the month of March 1555 that Titian married his only daughter Lavinia to Cornelio Sarcinelli of Serravalle, thus leaving the pleasant home at Biri Grande without a mistress; for his sister Orsa had been dead since 1549.[47] It may be convenient to treat here of the various portraits and more or less idealised portrait-pieces in which Titian has immortalised the thoroughly Venetian beauty of his daughter. First we have in the great _Ecce Homo_ of Vienna the graceful white-robed figure of a young girl of some fourteen years, placed, with the boy whom she guards, on the steps of Pilate's palace. Then there is the famous piece _Lavinia with a Dish of Fruit_, dating according to Morelli from about 1549, and painted for the master's friend Argentina Pallavicino of Reggio. This last-named work passed in 1821 from the Solly Collection into the Berlin Gallery. Though its general aspect is splendidly decorative, though it is accounted one of the most popular of all Titian's works, the Berlin picture cannot be allowed to take the highest rank among his performances of the same class. Its fascinations are of the obvious and rather superficial kind, its execution is not equal in vigour, freedom, and accent to the best that the master did about the same time. It is pretty obvious here that only the head is adapted from that of Lavinia, the full-blown voluptuous form not being that of the youthful maiden, who could not moreover have worn this sumptuous and fanciful costume except in the studio. In the strongest contrast to the conscious allurement of this showpiece is the demure simplicity of mien in the avowed portrait _Lavinia as a Bride_ in the Dresden Gallery. In this last she wears a costume of warm white satin and a splendid necklace and earrings of pearls. Morelli has pointed out that the fan, in the form of a little flag which she holds, was only used in Venice by newly betrothed ladies; and this fixes the time of the portrait as 1555, the date of the marriage contract. The execution is beyond all comparison finer here, the colour more transparent in its warmth, than in the more celebrated Berlin piece. Quite eight or ten years later than this must date the _Salome_ of the Prado Gallery, which is in general design a variation of the _Lavinia_ of Berlin. The figure holding up--a grim substitute for the salver of fruit--the head of St. John on a charger has probably been painted without any fresh reference to the model. The writer is unable to agree with Crowe and Cavalcaselle when they affirm that this _Salome_ is certainly painted by one of the master's followers. The touch is assuredly Titian's own in the very late time, and the canvas, though much slighter and less deliberate in execution than its predecessors, is in some respects more spontaneous, more vibrant in touch. Second to none as a work of art--indeed more striking than any in the naïve and fearless truth of the rendering--is the _Lavinia Sarcinelli as a Matron_ in the Dresden Gallery. Morelli surely exaggerates a little when he describes Lavinia here as a woman of forty. Though the demure, bright-eyed maiden has grown into a self-possessed Venetian dame of portentous dimensions, Sarcinelli's spouse is fresh still, and cannot be more than two-or three-and-thirty. This assumption, if accepted, would fix the time of origin of the picture at about 1565, and, reasoning from analogies of technique, this appears to be a more acceptable date than the year 1570-72, at which Morelli would place it.
One of the most important chapters in our master's life closed with the death of Aretino, which took place suddenly on the 21st of October 1556. He had been sitting at table with friends far into the night or morning. One of them, describing to him a farcical incident of Rabelaisian quality, he threw himself back in his chair in a fit of laughter, and slipping on the polished floor, was thrown with great force on his head and killed almost instantaneously. This was indeed the violent and sudden death of the strong, licentious man; poetic justice could have devised no more fitting end to such a life.
In the year 1558 Crowe and Cavalcaselle, for very sufficient reasons, place the _Martyrdom of St. Lawrence_, now preserved in the hideously over-ornate Church of the Jesuits at Venice. To the very remarkable analysis which they furnish of this work, the writer feels unable to add anything appreciable by way of comment, for the simple reason that though he has seen it many times, on no occasion has he been fortunate enough to obtain such a light as would enable him to judge the picture on its own merits as it now stands.[48] Of a design more studied in its rhythm, more akin to the Florentine and Roman schools, than anything that has appeared since the _St. Peter Martyr_, with a _mise-en-scène_ more classical than anything else from Titian's hand that can be pointed to, the picture may be guessed, rather than seen, to be also a curious and subtle study of conflicting lights. On the one hand we have that of the gruesome martyrdom itself, and of a huge torch fastened to the carved shaft of a pedestal; on the other, that of an effulgence from the skies, celestial in brightness, shedding its consoling beams on the victim.
The _Christ crowned with Thorns_, which long adorned the church of S. Maria delle Grazie at Milan, and is now in the Long Gallery of the Louvre, may belong to about this time, but is painted with a larger and more generous brush, with a more spontaneous energy, than the carefully studied piece at the Gesuiti. The tawny harmonies finely express in their calculated absence of freshness the scene of brutal and unholy violence so dramatically enacted before our eyes. The rendering of muscle, supple and strong under the living epidermis, the glow of the flesh, the dramatic momentariness of the whole, have not been surpassed even by Titian. Of the true elevation, of the spiritual dignity that the subject calls for, there is, however, little or nothing. The finely limbed Christ is as coarse in type and as violent in action as his executioners; sublimity is reached, strange to say, only in the bust of Tiberius, which crowns the rude archway through which the figures have issued into the open space. Titian is here the precursor of the _Naturalisti_--of Caravaggio and his school. Yet, all the same, how immeasurable is the distance between the two!
On the 21st of September 1558 died the imperial recluse of Yuste, once Charles V., and it is said his last looks were steadfastly directed towards that great canvas _The Trinity_, which to devise with Titian had been one of his greatest consolations at a moment when already earthly glories held him no more. Philip, on the news of his father's death, retired for some weeks to the monastery of Groenendale, and thence sent a despatch to the Governor of Milan, directing payment of all the arrears of the pensions "granted to Titian by Charles his father (now in glory)," adding by way of unusual favour a postscript in his own hand.[49] Orazio Vecellio, despatched by his father in the spring of 1559 to Milan to receive the arrears of pension, accepted the hospitality of the sculptor Leone Leoni, who was then living in splendid style in a palace which he had built and adorned for himself in the Lombard city. He was the rival in art as well as the mortal enemy of Benvenuto Cellini, and as great a ruffian as he, though one less picturesque in blackguardism. One day early in June, when Orazio, having left Leoni's house, had returned to superintend the removal of certain property, he was set upon, and murderously assaulted by the perfidious host and his servants. The whole affair is wrapped in obscurity. It remains uncertain whether vengeance, or hunger after the arrears of Titian's pension, or both, were the motives which incited Leoni to attempt the crime. Titian's passionate reclamations, addressed immediately to Philip II., met with but partial success, since the sculptor, himself a great favourite with the court of Spain, was punished only with fine and banishment, and the affair was afterwards compromised by the payment of a sum of money.
Titian's letter of September 22, 1559, to Philip II. announces the despatch of the companion pieces _Diana and Calisto_ and _Diana and Actæon_, as well as of an _Entombment_ intended to replace a painting of the same subject which had been lost on the way. The two celebrated canvases,[50] now in the Bridgewater Gallery, are so familiar that they need no new description. Judging by the repetitions, reductions, and copies that exist in the Imperial Gallery of Vienna, the Prado Gallery, the Yarborough Collection, and elsewhere, these mythological _poesie_ have captivated the world far more than the fresher and lovelier painted poems of the earlier time--the _Worship of Venus_, the _Bacchanal_, the _Bacchus and Ariadne_. At no previous period has Titian wielded the brush with greater _maestria_ and ease than here, or united a richer or more transparent glow with greater dignity of colour. About the compositions themselves, if we are to take them as the _poesie_ that Titian loved to call them, there is a certain want of significance, neither the divine nor the human note being struck with any depth or intensity of vibration. The glamour, the mystery, the intimate charm of the early pieces is lost, and there is felt, enwrapping the whole, that sultry atmosphere of untempered sensuousness which has already, upon more than one occasion, been commented upon. That this should be so is only natural when creative power is not extinguished by old age, but is on the contrary coloured with its passion, so different in quality from that of youth.
The _Entombment_, which went to Madrid with the mythological pieces just now discussed, serves to show how vivid was Titian's imagination at this point, when he touched upon a sacred theme, and how little dependent he was in this field on the conceptions of his earlier prime. A more living passion informs the scene, a more intimate sympathy colours it, than we find in the noble _Entombment_ of the Louvre, much as the picture which preceded it by so many years excels the Madrid example in fineness of balance, in dignity, in splendour and charm of colour. Here the personages are set free by the master from all academic trammels, and express themselves with a greater spontaneity in grief. The colour, too, of which the general scheme is far less attractive to the eye than in the Louvre picture, blazes forth in one note of lurid splendour in the red robe of the saint who supports the feet of the dead Christ.
In this same year Titian painted on the ceiling of the ante-chamber to Sansovino's great Library in the Piazzetta the allegorical figure _Wisdom_, thus entering into direct competition with young Paolo Veronese, Schiavone, and the other painters who, striving in friendly rivalry, had been engaged a short time before on the ceiling of the great hall in the same building. This noble design contains a pronounced reminiscence of Raphael's incomparable allegorical figures in the Camera della Segnatura, but excels them as much in decorative splendour and facile breadth of execution as it falls behind them in sublimity of inspiration.
Crowe and Cavalcaselle are probably right in assigning the great _Cornaro Family_ in the collection of the Duke of Northumberland to the year 1560 or thereabouts. Little seen of late years, and like most Venetian pictures of the sixteenth century shorn of some of its glory by time and the restorer, this family picture appears to the writer to rank among Titian's masterpieces in the domain of portraiture, and to be indeed the finest portrait-group of this special type that Venice has produced. In the simplicity and fervour of the conception Titian rises to heights which he did not reach in the _Madonna di Casa Pesaro_, where he is hampered by the necessity for combining a votive picture with a series of avowed portraits. It is pretty clear that this _Cornaro_ picture, like the Pesaro altar-piece, must have been commissioned to commemorate a victory or important political event in the annals of the illustrious family. Search among their archives and papers, if they still exist, might throw light upon this point, and fix more accurately the date of the magnificent work. In the open air--it may be outside some great Venetian church--an altar has been erected, and upon it is placed a crucifix, on either side of which are church candles, blown this way and the other by the wind. Three generations of patricians kneel in prayer and thanksgiving, taking precedence according to age, six handsome boys, arranged in groups of three on either side of the canvas, furnishing an element of great pictorial attractiveness but no vital significance. The act of worship acquires here more reality and a profounder meaning than it can have in those vast altar-pieces in which the divine favour is symbolised by the actual presence of the Madonna and Child. An open-air effect has been deliberately aimed at and attained, the splendid series of portraits being relieved against the cloud-flecked blue sky with a less sculptural plasticity than the master would have given to them in an indoor scheme. This is another admirable example of the dignity and reserve which Titian combines with sumptuous colour at this stage of his practice. His mastery is not less but greater, subtler, than that of his more showy and brilliant contemporaries of the younger generation; the result is something that appears as if it must inevitably have been so and not otherwise. The central figure of the patriarch is robed in deep crimson with grayish fur, rather black in shadow; the man in the prime of manhood wears a more positive crimson, trimmed with tawnier fur, browner in shadow; a lighter sheen is on the brocaded mantle of yet another shade of crimson worn by the most youthful of the three patricians. Just the stimulating note to break up a harmony which might otherwise have been of a richness too cloying is furnished--in the master's own peculiar way--by the scarlet stockings of one boy in the right hand group, by the cinnamon sleeve of another.[51]
To the year 1561 belongs, according to the elaborate inscription on the picture, the magnificent _Portrait of a Man_ which is No. 172 in the Dresden Gallery. It presents a Venetian gentleman in his usual habit, but bearing a palm branch such as we associate with saints who have endured martyrdom. Strangely sombre and melancholy in its very reserve is this sensitive face, and the tone of the landscape echoes the pathetic note of disquiet. The canvas bears the signature "Titianus Pictor et Aeques (sic) Caesaris." There group very well with this Dresden picture, though the writer will not venture to assert positively that they belong to exactly the same period, the _St. Dominic_ of the Borghese Gallery and the _Knight of Malta_ of the Prado Gallery. In all three--in the two secular portraits as in the sacred piece which is also a portrait--the expression given, and doubtless intended, is that of a man who has withdrawn himself in his time of fullest physical vigour from the pomps and vanities of the world, and sadly concentrates his thoughts on matters of higher import.
On the 1st of December 1561 Titian wrote to the king to announce the despatch of a _Magdalen_, which had already been mentioned more than once in the correspondence. According to Vasari and subsequent authorities, Silvio Badoer, a Venetian patrician, saw the masterpiece on the painter's easel, and took it away for a hundred scudi, leaving the master to paint another for Philip. This last has disappeared, while the canvas which remained in Venice cannot be identified with any certainty. The finest extant example of this type of _Magdalen_ is undoubtedly that which from Titian's ne'er-do-well son, Pompinio, passed to the Barbarigo family, and ultimately, with the group of Titians forming part of the Barbarigo collection, found its way into the Imperial Gallery of the Hermitage at St. Petersburg. This answers in every respect to Vasari's eloquent description of the _magna peccatrix_, lovely still in her penitence. It is an embodiment of the favourite subject, infinitely finer and more moving than the much earlier _Magdalen_ of the Pitti, in which the artist's sole preoccupation has been the alluring portraiture of exuberant feminine charms. This later _Magdalen_, as Vasari says, "ancorchè che sia bellissima, non muove a lascivia, ma a commiserazione," and the contrary might, without exaggeration, be said of the Pitti picture.[52] Another of the Barbarigo heirlooms which so passed into the Hermitage is the ever-popular _Venus with the Mirror_, the original of many repetitions and variations. Here, while one winged love holds the mirror, the other proffers a crown of flowers, not to the goddess, but to the fairest of women. The rich mantle of Venetian fashion, the jewels, the coiffure, all show that an idealised portrait of some lovely Cytherean of Venice, and no true mythological piece, has been intended.
At this date, or thereabouts, is very generally placed, with the _Rape of Europa_ presently to be discussed, the _Jupiter and Antiope_ of the Louvre, more popularly known as the _Venere del Pardo_.[53] Seeing that the picture is included in the list[54] sent by Titian to Antonio Perez in 1574, setting forth the titles of canvases delivered during the last twenty-five years, and then still unpaid for, it may well have been completed somewhere about the time at which we have arrived. To the writer it appears nevertheless that it is in essentials the work of an earlier period, taken up and finished thus late in the day for the delectation of the Spanish king. Seeing that the _Venere del Pardo_ has gone through two fires--those of the Pardo and the Louvre--besides cleanings, restorations, and repaintings, even more disfiguring, it would be very unsafe to lay undue stress on technique alone. Yet compare the close, sculptural modelling in the figure of Antiope with the broader, looser handling in the figure of Europa; compare the two landscapes, which are even more divergent in style. The glorious sylvan prospect, which adds so much freshness and beauty to the _Venere del Pardo_, is conspicuously earlier in manner than, for instance, the backgrounds to the _Diana and Actæon_ and _Diana and Calisto_ of Bridgewater House. The captivating work is not without its faults, chief among which is the curious awkwardness of design which makes of the composition, cut in two by a central tree, two pictures instead of one. Undeniably, too, there is a certain meanness and triviality in the little nymph or mortal of the foreground, which may, however, be due to the intervention of an assistant. But then, with an elasticity truly astounding in a man of his great age, the master has momentarily regained the poetry of his youthful prime, and with it a measure of that Giorgionesque fragrance which was evaporating already at the close of the early time, when the _Bacchanals_ were brought forth. The Antiope herself far transcends in the sovereign charm of her beauty--divine in the truer sense of the word--all Titian's Venuses, save the one in the _Sacred and Profane Love_. The figure comes in some ways nearer even in design, and infinitely nearer in feeling, to Giorgione's _Venus_ at Dresden than does the _Venus of Urbino_ in the Tribuna, which was closely modelled upon it. And the aged Titian had gone back even a step farther than Giorgione; the group of Antiope with Jupiter in the guise of a Satyr is clearly a reminiscence of a _Nymph surprised by a Satyr_--one of the engravings in the _Hypnerotomachia Poliphili_ first published in 1499, but republished with the same illustrations in 1545.[55]
According to the correspondence published by Crowe and Cavalcaselle there were completed for the Spanish King in April 1562 the _Poesy of Europa carried by the Bull_, and the _Christ praying in the Garden_, while a _Virgin and Child_ was announced as in progress.
These paintings, widely divergent as they are in subject, answer very well to each other in technical execution, while in both they differ very materially from the _Venere del Pardo_. The _Rape of Europa_, which has retained very much of its blond brilliancy and charm of colour, affords convincing proof of the unrivalled power with which Titian still wielded the brush at this stage which precedes that of his very last and most impressionistic style. For decorative effect, for "go," for frankness and breadth of execution, it could not be surpassed. Yet hardly elsewhere has the great master approached so near to positive vulgarity as here in the conception of the fair Europa as a strapping wench who, with ample limbs outstretched, complacently allows herself to be carried off by the Bull, making her appeal for succour merely _pour la forme_. What gulfs divide this conception from that of the Antiope, from Titian's earlier renderings of female loveliness, from Giorgione's supreme Venus![56]
The _Agony in the Garden_, which is still to be found in one of the halls of the Escorial, even now in its faded state serves to evidence the intensity of religious fervour which possessed Titian when, so late in life, he successfully strove to renew the sacred subjects. If the composition--as Crowe and Cavalcaselle assert--does more or less resemble that of the famous _Agony_ by Correggio now at Apsley House, nothing could differ more absolutely from the Parmese master's amiable virtuosity than the aged Titian's deep conviction.[57]
To the year 1562 belongs the nearly profile portrait of the artist, painted by himself with a subtler refinement and a truer revelation of self than is to be found in those earlier canvases of Berlin and the Uffizi in which his late prime still shows as a green and vigorous manhood. This is now in the _Sala de la Reina Isabel_ of the Prado. The pale noble head, refined by old age to a solemn beauty, is that of one brought face to face with the world beyond; it is the face of the man who could conceive and paint the sacred pieces of the end, the _Ecce Homo_ of Munich and the last _Pietà_, with an awe such as we here read in his eyes. Much less easy is it to connect this likeness with the artist who went on concurrently producing his Venuses, mythological pieces, and pastorals, and joying as much as ever in their production.
Vasari, who, as will be seen, visited Venice in 1566, when he was preparing that new and enlarged edition of the _Lives_ which was to appear in 1568, had then an opportunity of renewing his friendly acquaintance with the splendid old man whom he had last seen, already well stricken in years, twenty-one years before in Rome. It must have been at this stage that he formed the judgment as to the latest manner of Titian which is so admirably expressed in his biography of the master. Speaking especially of the _Diana and Actæon_, the _Rape of Europa_, and the _Deliverance of Andromeda_,[58] he delivers himself as follows:--"It is indeed true that his technical manner in these last is very different from that of his youth. The first works are, be it remembered, carried out with incredible delicacy and pains, so that they can be looked at both at close quarters and from afar. These last ones are done with broad coarse strokes and blots of colour, in such wise that they cannot be appreciated near at hand, but from afar look perfect. This style has been the cause that many, thinking therein to play the imitators and to make a display of practical skill, have produced clumsy, bad pictures. This is so, because, notwithstanding that to many it may seem that Titian's works are done without labour, this is not so in truth, and they who think so deceive themselves. It is, on the contrary, to be perceived that they are painted at many sittings, that they have been worked upon with the colours so many times as to make the labour evident; and this method of execution is judicious, beautiful, astonishing, because it makes the pictures seem living."
No better proof could be given of Vasari's genuine _flair_ and intuition as a critic of art than this passage. We seem to hear, not the Tuscan painter bred to regard the style of Michelangelo as an article of faith, to imitate his sculptural smoothness of finish and that of Angelo Bronzino, but some intelligent exponent of impressionistic methods, defending both from attack and from superficial imitation one of the most advanced of modernists.
Among the sacred works produced in this late time is a _Crucifixion_, still preserved in a damaged state in the church of S. Domenico at Ancona. To a period somewhat earlier than that at which we have arrived may belong the late _Madonna and Child in a Landscape_ which is No. 1113 in the Alte Pinakothek of Munich. The writer follows Giovanni Morelli in believing that this is a studio picture touched by the master, and that the splendidly toned evening landscape is all his. He cannot surely be made wholly responsible for the overgrown and inflated figure of the divine _Bambino_, so disproportionate, so entirely wanting in tenderness and charm.
The power of vivid conception, the spontaneous fervour which mark Titian's latest efforts in the domain of sacred art, are very evident in the great _St. Jerome_ of the Brera here reproduced. Cima, Basaiti, and most of the Bellinesques had shown an especial affection for the subject, and it had been treated too by Lotto, by Giorgione, by Titian himself; but this is surely as noble and fervent a rendering as Venetian art in its prime has brought forth. Of extraordinary majesty and beauty is the landscape, with its mighty trees growing out of the abrupt mountain slope, close to the naked rock.
In the autumn of 1564 we actually find the venerable master, then about eighty-seven years of age, taking a journey to Brescia in connection with an important commission given to him for the decoration of the great hall in the Palazzo Pubblico at Brescia, to which the Vicentine artist Righetto had supplied the ceiling, and Palladio had added columns and interior wall-decorations. The three great ceiling-pictures, which were afterwards, as a consequence of the contract then entered upon, executed by the master, or rather by his assistants, endured only until 1575, when in the penultimate year of Titian's life they perished in a great fire.
The correspondence shows that the vast _Last Supper_ painted for the Refectory of the Escorial, and still to be found there, was finished in October 1564, and that there was much haggling and finessing on the part of the artist before it was despatched to Spain, the object being to secure payment of the arrears of pension still withheld by the Milanese officials. When the huge work did arrive at the Escorial the monks perpetrated upon it one of those acts of vandalism of which Titian was in more than one instance the victim. Finding that the picture would not fit the particular wall of their refectory for which it had been destined, they ruthlessly cut it down, slicing off a large piece of the upper part, and throwing the composition out of balance by the mutilation of the architectural background.
Passing over the _Transfiguration_ on the high altar of San Salvatore at Venice, we come to the _Annunciation_ in the same church with the signature "Titianus fecit fecit," added by the master, if we are to credit the legend, in indignation that those who commissioned the canvas should have shown themselves dissatisfied even to the point of expressing incredulity as to his share in the performance. Some doubt has been cast upon this story, which may possibly have been evolved on the basis of the peculiar signature. It is at variance with Vasari's statement that Titian held the picture in slight esteem in comparison with his other works. It is not to be contested that for all the fine passages of colour and execution, the general tone is paler in its silveriness, less vibrant and effective on the whole, than in many of the masterpieces which have been mentioned in their turn. But the conception is a novel and magnificent one, contrasting instructively in its weightiness and majesty with the more naïve and pathetic renderings of an earlier time.
The _Education of Cupid_, popularly but erroneously known as _The Three Graces_[59] is one of the pearls of the Borghese Gallery. It is clearly built in essentials on the master's own _d'Avalos Allegory_, painted many years before. This later allegory shows Venus binding the eyes of Love ere he sallies forth into the world, while his bow and his quiver well-stocked with arrows are brought forward by two of the Graces. In its conception there is no great freshness or buoyancy, no pretence at invention. The aged magician of the brush has interested himself more in the execution than in the imagining of his picture. It is a fine and typical specimen of the painting _di macchia_, which Vasari has praised in a passage already quoted. A work such as this bears in technique much the same relation to the productions of Titian's first period that the great _Family Picture_ of Rembrandt at Brunswick does to his work done some thirty-five or forty years before. In both instances it is a life-time of legitimate practice that has permitted the old man to indulge without danger in an abridgment of labour, a synthetic presentment of fact, which means no abatement, but in some ways an enhancement of life, breadth, and pictorial effect. To much about the same time, judging from the handling and the types, belongs the curious allegory, _Religion succoured by Spain_--otherwise _La Fé_--now No. 476 in the gallery of the Prado. This canvas, notwithstanding a marked superficiality of invention as well as of execution, is in essentials the master's own; moreover it can boast its own special decorative qualities, void though it is of any deep significance. The showy figure of Spain holding aloft in one hand a standard, and with the other supporting a shield emblazoned with the arms of the realm, recalls the similar creations of Paolo Veronese. Titian has rarely been less happily inspired than in the figure of Religion, represented as a naked female slave newly released from bondage.
When Vasari in 1566 paid the visit to Venice, of which a word has already been said, he noted, among a good many other things then in progress, the _Martyrdom of St. Lawrence_, based upon that now at the Gesuiti in Venice. This was despatched nearly two years later to the Escorial, where it still occupies its place on the high altar of the mighty church dedicated to St. Lawrence. The Brescian ceiling canvases appeared, too, in his list as unfinished. They were sent to their destination early in 1568, to be utterly destroyed, as has been told, by fire in 1575.
The best proof we have that Titian's artistic power was in many respects at its highest in 1566, is afforded by the magnificent portrait of the Mantuan painter and antiquary Jacopo da Strada, now in the Imperial Gallery at Vienna. It bears, besides the usual late signature of the master, the description of the personage with all his styles and titles, and the date MDLXVI. The execution is again _di macchia_, but magnificent in vitality, as in impressiveness of general effect, swift but not hasty or superficial. The reserve and dignity of former male portraits is exchanged for a more febrile vivacity, akin to that which Lotto had in so many of his finest works displayed. His peculiar style is further recalled in the rather abrupt inclination of the figure and the parallel position of the statuette which it holds. But none other than Titian himself could have painted the superb head, which he himself has hardly surpassed.
It is curious and instructive to find the artist, in a letter addressed to Philip on the 2nd of December 1567, announcing the despatch, together with the just now described altar-piece, _The Martyrdom of St. Lawrence_, of "una pittura d'una Venere ignuda"--the painting of a nude Venus. Thus is the peculiar double current of the aged painter's genius maintained by the demand for both classes of work. He well knows that to the Most Catholic Majesty very secular pieces indeed will be not less acceptable than those much-desired sacred works in which now Titian's power of invention is greatest.
Our master, in his dealings with the Brescians, after the completion of the extensive decorations for the Palazzo Pubblico, was to have proof that Italian citizens were better judges of art than the King of Spain, and more grudging if prompter paymasters. They declared, not without some foundation in fact, that the canvases were not really from the hand of Titian, and refused to pay more than one thousand ducats for them. The negotiation was conducted--as were most others at that time--by the trusty Orazio, who after much show of indignation was compelled at last to accept the proffered payment.
The great victory of Lepanto, gained by the united fleets of Spain and Venice over the Turk on the 7th of October 1571, gave fitting occasion for one of Paolo Veronese's most radiant masterpieces, the celebrated votive picture of the Sala del Collegio, for Tintoretto's _Battle of Lepanto_, but also for one of Titian's feeblest works, the allegory _Philip II. offering to Heaven his Son, the Infant Don Ferdinand_, now No. 470 in the gallery of the Prado. That Sanchez Coello, under special directions from the king, prepared the sketch which was to serve as the basis for the definitive picture may well have hampered and annoyed the aged master. Still this is but an insufficient excuse for the absurdities of the design, culminating in the figure of the descending angel, who is represented in one of those strained, over-bold attitudes, in which Titian, even at his best, never achieved complete success. That he was not, all the same, a stranger to the work, is proved by some flashes of splendid colour, some fine passages of execution.
In the four pieces now to be shortly described, the very latest and most impressionistic form of Titian's method as a painter is to be observed; all of them are in the highest degree characteristic of this ultimate phase. In the beautiful _Madonna and Child_ here reproduced,[60] the hand, though it no longer works with all trenchant vigour of earlier times, produces a magical effect by means of unerring science and a certainty of touch justifying such economy of mere labour as is by the system of execution suggested to the eye. And then this pathetic motive, the simple realism, the unconventional treatment of which are spiritualised by infinite tenderness, is a new thing in Venetian, nay in Italian art. Precisely similar in execution, and equally restrained in the scheme of colour adopted, is the _Christ crowned with Thorns_ of the Alte Pinakothek at Munich, a reproduction with important variations of the better-known picture in the Long Gallery of the Louvre. Less demonstratively and obviously dramatic than its predecessor, the Munich example is, as a realisation of the scene, far truer and more profound in pathos. Nobler beyond compare in His unresisting acceptance of insult and suffering is the Munich Christ than the corresponding figure, so violent in its instinctive recoil from pain, of the Louvre picture.
It is nothing short of startling at the very end of Titian's career to meet with a work which, expressed in this masterly late technique of his, vies in freshness of inspiration with the finest of his early _poesie_. This is the _Nymph and Shepherd_[61] of the Imperial Gallery at Vienna, a picture which the world had forgotten until it was added, or rather restored, to the State collection on its transference from the Belvedere to the gorgeous palace which it now occupies. In its almost monochromatic harmony of embrowned silver the canvas embodies more absolutely than any other, save perhaps the final _Pietà_, the ideal of tone-harmony towards which the master in his late time had been steadily tending. Richness and brilliancy of local colour are subordinated, and this time up to the point of effacement, to this luminous monotone, so mysteriously effective in the hands of a master such as Titian. In the solemn twilight which descends from the heavens, just faintly flushed with rose, an amorous shepherd, flower-crowned, pipes to a nude nymph, who, half-won by the appealing strain, turns her head as she lies luxuriously extended on a wild beast's hide, covering the grassy knoll; in the distance a strayed goat browses on the leafage of a projecting branch. It may not be concealed that a note of ardent sensuousness still makes itself felt, as it does in most of the later pieces of the same class. But here, transfigured by a freshness of poetic inspiration hardly to be traced in the master's work in pieces of this order, since those early Giorgionesque days when the sixteenth century was in its youth, it offends no more than does an idyll of Theocritus. Since the _Three Ages_ of Bridgewater House, divided from the _Nymph and Shepherd_ by nearly seventy years of life and labour, Titian had produced nothing which, apart from the question of technical execution, might so nearly be paralleled with that exquisite pastoral. The early _poesia_ gives, wrapped in clear even daylight, the perfect moment of trusting, satisfied love; the late one, with less purity, but, strange to say, with a higher passion, renders, beautified by an evening light more solemn and suggestive, the divine ardours fanned by solitude and opportunity.
And now we come to the _Pietà_,[62] which so nobly and appropriately closes a career unexampled for duration and sustained achievement. Titian had bargained with the Franciscan monks of the Frari, which contained already the _Assunta_ and the _Madonna di Casa Pesaro_, for a grave in the Cappella del Crocifisso, offering in payment a _Pietà_, and this offer had been accepted. But some misunderstanding and consequent quarrel having been the ultimate outcome of the proposed arrangements, he left his great canvas unfinished, and willed that his body should be taken to Cadore, and there buried in the chapel of the Vecelli.
The well-known inscription on the base of the monumental niche which occupies the centre of the _Pietà_, "Quod Titianus inchoatum reliquit, Palma reverenter absolvit, Deoque dicavit opus," records how what Titian had left undone was completed as reverently as might be by Palma Giovine. At this stage--the question being much complicated by subsequent restorations--the effort to draw the line accurately between the work of the master on one hand and that of his able and pious assistant on the other, would be unprofitable. Let us rather strive to appreciate what is left of a creation unique in the life-work of Titian, and in some ways his most sublime invention. Genius alone could have triumphed over the heterogeneous and fantastic surroundings in which he has chosen to enframe his great central group. And yet even these--the great rusticated niche with the gold mosaic of the pelican feeding its young, the statues of Moses on one side and of the Hellespontic Sibyl on the other--but serve to heighten the awe of the spectator. The artificial light is obtained in part from a row of crystal lamps on the cornice of the niche, in part, too, from the torch borne by the beautiful boy-angel who hovers in mid-air, yet another focus of illumination being the body of the dead Christ. This system of lighting furnishes just the luminous half-gloom, the deeply significant chiaroscuro, that the painter requires in order to give the most poignant effect to his last and most thrilling conception of the world's tragedy. As is often the case with Tintoretto, but more seldom with Titian, the eloquent passion breathed forth in this _Pietà_ is not to be accounted for by any element or elements of the composition taken separately; it depends to so great an extent on the poetic suggestiveness of the illumination, on the strange and indefinable power of evocation that the aged master here exceptionally commands.
Wonderfully does the terrible figure of the Magdalen contrast in its excess of passion with the sculptural repose, the permanence of the main group. As she starts forward, almost menacing in her grief, her loud and bitter cry seems to ring through space, accusing all mankind of its great crime. It is with a conviction far more intense than has ever possessed him in his prime, with an awe nearly akin to terror, that Titian, himself trembling on the verge of eternity, and painting, too, that which shall purchase his own grave, has produced this profoundly moving work. No more fitting end and crown to the great achievements of the master's old age could well be imagined.
There is no temptation to dwell unnecessarily upon the short period of horror and calamity with which this glorious life came to an end. If Titian had died a year earlier, his biographer might still have wound up with those beautiful words of Vasari's peroration: "E stato Tiziano sanissimo et fortunate quant' alcun altro suo pari sia stato ancor mai; e non ha mai avuto dai cieli se non favori e felicità." Too true it is, alas, that no man's life may be counted happy until its close! Now comes upon the great city this all-enveloping horror of the plague, beginning in 1575, but in 1576 attaining to such vast proportions as to sweep away more than a quarter of the whole population of 190,000 inhabitants. On the 17th of August, 1576, old Titian is attacked and swept away--surprised, as one would like to believe, while still at work on his _Pietà_. Even at such a moment, when panic reigns supreme, and the most honoured, the most dearly beloved are left untended, he is not to be hurried into an unmarked grave. Notwithstanding the sanitary law which forbids the burial of one who has succumbed to the plague in any of the city churches, he receives the supreme and at this awful moment unique honour of solemn obsequies. The body is taken with all due observance to the great church of the Frari, and there interred in the Cappella del Crocifisso, which Titian has already, before the quarrel with the Franciscans, designated as his final resting-place. He is spared the grief of knowing that the favourite son, Orazio, for whom all these years he has laboured and schemed, is to follow him immediately, dying also of the plague, and not even at Biri Grande, but in the Lazzaretto Vecchio, near the Lido; that the incorrigible Pomponio is to succeed and enjoy the inheritance after his own unworthy fashion. He is spared the knowledge of the great calamity of 1577, the destruction by fire of the Sala del Gran Consiglio, and with it, of the _Battle of Cadore_, and most of the noble work done officially for the Doges and the Signoria. One would like to think that this catastrophe of the end must have come suddenly upon the venerable master like a hideous dream, appearing to him, as death often does to those upon whom it descends, less significant than it does to us who read. Instead of remaining fixed in sad contemplation of this short final moment when the radiant orb goes suddenly down below the horizon in storm and cloud, let us keep steadily in view the light as, serene in its far-reaching radiance, it illuminated the world for eighty splendid years. Let us think of Titian as the greatest painter, if not the greatest genius in art, that the world has produced; as, what Vasari with such conviction described him to be, "the man as highly favoured by fortune as any of his kind had ever been before him."[63]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: "The Earlier Work of Titian," _Portfolio_, October 1897.]
[Footnote 2: According to the catalogue of 1892, this picture was formerly in the sacristy of the Escorial in Spain. It can only be by an oversight that it is therein described as "possibly painted there," since Titian never was in Spain.]
[Footnote 3: It is especially to be noted that there is not a trace of red in the picture, save for the modest crimson waistband of the St. Catherine. Contrary to almost universal usage, it might almost be said to orthodoxy, the entire draperies of the Virgin are of one intense blue. Her veil-like head-gear is of a brownish gray, while the St. Catherine wears a golden-brown scarf, continuing the glories of her elaborately dressed hair. The audacity of the colour-scheme is only equalled by its success; no calculated effort at anything unusual being apparent. The beautiful naked _putto_ who appears in the sky, arresting the progress of the shepherds, is too trivial in conception for the occasion. A similar incident is depicted in the background of the much earlier _Holy Family_, No. 4. at the National Gallery, but there the messenger angel is more appropriately and more reverently depicted as full-grown and in flowing garments.]
[Footnote 4: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, vol. i. pp. 396, 397; _Tizian_, von H. Knackfuss, p. 55.]
[Footnote 5: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Appendix to vol. i. p. 448.]
[Footnote 6: No. 1288 in the Long Gallery of the Louvre.]
[Footnote 7: See the canvas No. 163 in the Imperial Gallery of Vienna. The want of life and of a definite personal character makes it almost repellent, notwithstanding the breadth and easy mastery of the technique. Rubens's copy of a lost or unidentified Titian, No. 845 in the same gallery, shows that he painted Isabella from life in mature middle age, and with a truthfulness omitting no sign of over-ripeness. This portrait may very possibly have been done in 1522, when Titian appeared at the court of the Gonzagas. Its realism, even allowing for Rubens's unconscious exaggeration, might well have deterred the Gonzaga princess from being limned from life some twelve years later still.]
[Footnote 8: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, vol. i., Appendix, p. 451.]
[Footnote 9: The idea of painting St. Jerome by moonlight was not a new one. In the house at Venice of Andrea Odoni, the dilettante whose famous portrait by Lotto is at Hampton Court, the Anonimo (Marcantonio Michiel) saw, in 1532, "St. Jerome seated naked in a desert landscape by moonlight, by ---- (sic), copied from a canvas by Zorzi da Castelfranco (Giorgione)."]
[Footnote 10: See "The Picture Gallery of Charles I.," _The Portfolio_, January 1896, pp. 49 and 99.]
[Footnote 11: The somewhat similar _Allegories_ No. 173 and No. 187 in the Imperial Gallery at Vienna (New Catalogue, 1895), both classed as by Titian, cannot take rank as more than atelier works. Still farther from the master is the _Initiation of a Bacchante_, No. 1116 (Cat. 1891), in the Alte Pinakothek of Munich. This is a piece too cold and hard, too opaque, to have come even from his studio. It is a _pasticcio_ made up in a curiously mechanical way, from the Louvre _Allegory_ and the quite late _Education of Cupid_ in the Borghese Gallery; the latter composition having been manifestly based by Titian himself, according to what became something like a custom in old age, upon the earlier _Allegory_.]
[Footnote 12: A rather tiresome and lifeless portrait of Ippolito is that to be found in the picture No. 20 in the National Gallery, in which it has been assumed that his companion is his favourite painter, Sebastiano del Piombo, to whom the picture is, not without some misgivings, attributed.]
[Footnote 13: It has been photographed under this name by Anderson of Rome.]
[Footnote 14: In much the same position, since it hardly enjoys the celebrity to which it is entitled, is another masterpiece of portraiture from the brush of Titian, which, as belonging to his earlier middle time, should more properly have been mentioned in the first section of this monograph. This is the great _Portrait of a Man in Black_, No. 1591 in the Louvre. It shows a man of some forty years, of simple mien yet of indefinably tragic aspect; he wears moderately long hair, is clothed entirely in black, and rests his right hand on his hip, while passing the left through his belt. The dimensions of the canvas are more imposing than those of the _Jeune Homme au Gant_. No example in the Louvre, even though it competes with Madrid for the honour of possessing the greatest Titians in the world, is of finer quality than this picture. Near this--No. 1592 in the same great gallery--hangs another _Portrait of a Man in Black_ by Titian, and belonging to his middle time. The personage presented, though of high breeding, is cynical and repellent of aspect. The strong right hand rests quietly yet menacingly on a poniard, this attitude serving to give a peculiarly aggressive character to the whole conception. In the present state of this fine and striking picture the yellowness and want of transparency of the flesh-tones, both in the head and hands, gives rise to certain doubts as to the correctness of the ascription. Yet this peculiarity may well arise from injury; it would at any rate be hazardous to put forward any other name than that of Titian, to whom we must be content to leave the portrait.]
[Footnote 15: This is the exceedingly mannered yet all the same rich and beautiful _St. Catherine, St. Roch, with a boy angel, and St. Sebastian_.]
[Footnote 16: See Giorgione's _Adrastus and Hypsipyle (Landscape with the Soldier and the Gipsy)_ of the Giovanelli Palace, the _Venus_ of Dresden, the _Concert Champêtre_ of the Louvre.]
[Footnote 17: It is unnecessary in this connection to speak of the Darmstadt _Venus_ invented by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, and to which as a type they so constantly refer. Giovanni Morelli has demonstrated with very general acceptance that this is only a late adaptation of the exquisite _Venus_ of Dresden, which it is his greatest glory to have restored to Barbarelli and to the world.]
[Footnote 18: _Die Galerien zu München und Dresden von Ivan Lermolieff_, p. 290.]
[Footnote 19: Palma Vecchio, in his presentments of ripe Venetian beauty, was, we have seen, much more literal than Giorgione, more literal, too, less the poet-painter, than the young Titian. Yet in the great _Venus_ of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge--not, indeed, in that of Dresden--his ideal is a higher one than Titian's in such pieces as the _Venus of Urbino_ and the later _Venus_, its companion, in the Tribuna. The two Bonifazi of Verona followed Palma, giving, however, to the loveliness of their women not, indeed, a more exalted character, but a less pronounced sensuousness--an added refinement but a weaker personality. Paris Bordone took the note from Titian, but being less a great artist than a fine painter, descended a step lower in the scale. Paolo Veronese unaffectedly joys in the beauty of woman, in the sheen of fair flesh, without any under-current of deeper meaning. Tintoretto, though like his brother Venetians he delights in the rendering of the human form unveiled, is but little disquieted by the fascinating problem which now occupies us. He is by nature strangely spiritual, though he is far from indulging in any false idealisation, though he shrinks not at all from the statement of the truth as it presents itself to him. Let his famous pictures in the Anticollegio of the Doges' Palace, his _Muses_ at Hampton Court, and above all that unique painted poem, _The Rescue_, in the Dresden Gallery, serve to support this view of his art.]
[Footnote 20: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, _Life of Titian_, vol. i. p. 420.]
[Footnote 21: Two of these have survived in the _Roman Emperor on Horseback_, No. 257, and the similarly named picture, No. 290, at Hampton Court Palace. These panels were among the Mantua pieces purchased for Charles I. by Daniel Nys from Duke Vincenzo in 1628-29. If the Hampton Court pieces are indeed, as there appears no valid reason to doubt, two of the canvases mentioned by Vasari, we must assume that though they bore Giulio's name as _chef d'atelier_, he did little work on them himself. In the Mantuan catalogue contained in d'Arco's _Notizie_ they were entered thus:--"Dieci altri quadri, dipintovi un imperatore per quadro a cavallo--opera di mano di Giulio Romano" (see _The Royal Gallery of Hampton Court_, by Ernest Law, 1898).]
[Footnote 22: The late Charles Yriarte in a recent article, "Sabionneta la petite Athènes," published in the _Gazette des Beaux Arts_, March 1898, states that Bernardino Campi of Cremona, Giulio's subordinate at the moment, painted the Twelfth _Cæsar_, but adduces no evidence in support of this departure from the usual assumption.]
[Footnote 23: See "The Picture Gallery of Charles I.," _The Portfolio_, October 1897, pp. 98, 99.]
[Footnote 24: Nos. 529-540--Catalogue of 1891--Provincial Museum of Hanover. The dimensions are 0.19 _c._ by 0.15 _c._]
[Footnote 25: Of all Pordenone's exterior decorations executed in Venice nothing now remains. His only works of importance in the Venetian capital are the altar-piece in S. Giovanni Elemosinario already mentioned; the _San Lorenzo Giustiniani_ altar-piece in the Accademia delle Belle Arti; the magnificent though in parts carelessly painted _Madonna del Carmelo_ in the same gallery; the vast _St. Martin and St. Christopher_ in the church of S. Rocco; the _Annunciation_ of S. Maria degli Angeli at Murano.]
[Footnote 26: No. 108 in the Winter Exhibition at Burlington House in 1896. By Franceschini is no doubt meant Paolo degli Franceschi, whose portrait Titian is known to have painted. He has been identified among the figures in the foreground of the _Presentation of the Virgin_.]
[Footnote 27: See a very interesting article, "Vittore Carpaccio--La Scuola degli Albanesi," by Dr. Gustav Ludwig, in the _Archivio Storico dell' Arte_ for November-December 1897.]
[Footnote 28: A gigantic canvas of this order is, or rather was, the famous _Storm_ of the Venetian Accademia, which has for many years past been dubitatively assigned to Giorgione. Vasari described it as by Palma Vecchio, stating that it was painted for the Scuola di S. Marco in the Piazza SS. Giovanni e Paolo, in rivalry with Gian Bellino(!) and Mansueti, and referring to it in great detail and with a more fervent enthusiasm than he accords to any other Venetian picture. To the writer, judging from the parts of the original which have survived, it has long appeared that this may indeed be after all the right attribution. The ascription to Giorgione is mainly based on the romantic character of the invention, which certainly does not answer to anything that we know from the hand or brain of Palma. But then the learned men who helped Giorgione and Titian may well have helped him; and the structure of the thick-set figures in the foreground is absolutely his, as is also the sunset light on the horizon.]
[Footnote 29: This is an arrangement analogous to that with the aid of which Tintoretto later on, in the _Crucifixion_ of San Cassiano at Venice, attains to so sublime an effect. There the spears--not brandished but steadily held aloft in rigid and inflexible regularity--strangely heighten the solemn tragedy of the scene.]
[Footnote 30: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, _Life of Titian_, vol. vi. p. 59.]
[Footnote 31: The writer is unable to accept as a genuine design by Titian for the picture the well-known sepia drawing in the collection of the Uffizi. The composition is too clumsy in its mechanical repetition of parts, the action of the Virgin too awkward. The design looks more like an adaptation by some Bolognese eclectic.]
[Footnote 32: This double portrait has not been preserved. According to Crowe and Cavalcaselle, the full length of Pier Luigi still exists in the Palazzo Reale at Naples (not seen by the writer).]
[Footnote 33: The writer, who has studied in the originals all the other Titians mentioned in this monograph, has had as yet no opportunity of examining those in the Hermitage. He knows them only in the reproductions of Messrs. Braun, and in those new and admirable ones recently published by the Berlin Photographic Company.]
[Footnote 34: This study from the life would appear to bear some such relation to the finished original as the _Innocent X._ of Velazquez at Apsley House bears to the great portrait of that Pope in the Doria Panfili collection.]
[Footnote 35: This portrait-group belongs properly to the time a few years ahead, since it was undertaken during Titian's stay in Rome.]
[Footnote 36: The imposing signature runs _Titianus Eques Ces. F. 1543._]
[Footnote 37: The type is not the nobler and more suave one seen in the _Cristo della Moneta_ and the _Pilgrims of Emmaus_; it is the much less exalted one which is reproduced in the _Ecce Homo_ of Madrid, and in the many repetitions and variations related to that picture, which cannot itself be accepted as an original from the hand of Titian.]
[Footnote 38: Vasari saw a _Christ with Cleophas and Luke_ by Titian, above the door in the Salotta d'Oro, which precedes the Sala del Consiglio de' Dieci in the Doges' Palace, and states that it had been acquired by the patrician Alessandro Contarini and by him presented to the Signoria. The evidence of successive historians would appear to prove that it remained there until the close of last century. According to Crowe and Cavalcaselle the Louvre picture was a replica done for Mantua, which with the other Gonzaga pictures found its way into Charles I.'s collection, and thence, through that of Jabach, finally into the gallery of Louis XIV. At the sale of the royal collection by the Commonwealth it was appraised at £600. The picture bears the signature, unusual for this period, "Tician." There is another _Christ with the Pilgrims at Emmaus_ in the collection of the Earl of Yarborough, signed "Titianus," in which, alike as to the figures, the scheme of colour, and the landscape, there are important variations. One point is of especial importance. Behind the figure of St. Luke in the Yarborough picture is a second pillar. This is not intended to appear in the Louvre picture; yet underneath the glow of the landscape there is just the shadow of such a pillar, giving evidence of a _pentimento_ on the part of the master. This, so far as it goes, is evidence that the Louvre example was a revised version, and the Yarborough picture a repetition or adaptation of the first original seen by Vasari. However this may be, there can be no manner of doubt that the picture in the Long Gallery of the Louvre is an original entirely from the hand of Titian, while Lord Yarborough's picture shows nothing of his touch and little even of the manner of his studio at the time.]
[Footnote 39: Purchased at the sale of Charles I.'s collection by Alonso de Cardenas for Philip IV. at the price of £165.]
[Footnote 40: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, _Life of Titian_, vol. ii., Appendix (p. 502).]
[Footnote 41: Moritz Thausing has striven in his _Wiener Kunstbriefe_ to show that the coat of arms on the marble bas-relief in the _Sacred and Profane Love_ is that of the well-known Nuremberg house of Imhof. This interpretation has, however, been controverted by Herz Franz Wickhoff.]
[Footnote 42: Cesare Vecellio must have been very young at this time. The costume-book, _Degli abiti antichi e moderni_, to which he owes his chief fame, was published at Venice in 1590.]
[Footnote 43: "Das Tizianbildniss der königlichen Galerie zu Cassel," _Jahrbuch der königlich-preussischen Kunstsammlungen_, Funfzehnter Band, III. Heft.]
[Footnote 44: See the _Francesco Maria, Duke of Urbino_ at the Uffizi; also, for the modish headpiece, the _Ippolito de' Medici_ at the Pitti.]
[Footnote 45: A number of fine portraits must of necessity be passed over in these remarks. The superb if not very well-preserved _Antonio Portia_, within the last few years added to the Brera, dates back a good many years from this time. Then we have, among other things, the _Benedetto Varchi_ and the _Fabrizio Salvaresio_ of the Imperial Museum at Vienna--the latter bearing the date 1558. The writer is unable to accept as a genuine Titian the interesting but rather matter-of-fact _Portrait of a Lady in Mourning_, No. 174 in the Dresden Gallery. The master never painted with such a lack of charm and distinction. Very doubtful, but difficult to judge in its present state, is the _Portrait of a Lady with a Vase_, No. 173 in the same collection. Morelli accepts as a genuine example of the master the _Portrait of a Lady in a Red Dress_ also in the Dresden Gallery, where it bears the number 176. If the picture is his, as the technical execution would lead the observer to believe, it constitutes in its stiffness and unambitious _naïveté_ a curious exception in his long series of portraits.]
[Footnote 46: It is impossible to discuss here the atelier repetitions in the collections of the National Gallery and Lord Wemyss respectively, or the numerous copies to be found in other places.]
[Footnote 47: For the full text of the marriage contract see Giovanni Morelli, _Die Galerien zu München und Dresden_, pp. 300-302.]
[Footnote 48: Joshua Reynolds, who saw it during his tour in Italy, says: "It is so dark a picture that, at first casting my eyes on it, I thought there was a black curtain before it."]
[Footnote 49: Crowe and Cavalcaselle, vol. ii. p. 272.]
[Footnote 50: They were, with the _Rape of Europa_, among the so-called "light pieces" presented to Prince Charles by Philip IV., and packed for transmission to England. On the collapse of the marriage negotiations they were, however, kept back. Later on Philip V. presented them to the Marquis de Grammont. They subsequently formed part of the Orleans Gallery, and were acquired at the great sale in London by the Duke of Bridgewater for £2500 apiece.]
[Footnote 51: This great piece is painted on a canvas of peculiarly coarse grain, with a well-defined lozenge pattern. It was once owned by Van Dyck, at the sale of whose possessions, in 1556, a good number of years after his death, it was acquired by Algernon Percy, Earl of Northumberland. In 1873 it was in the exhibition of Old Masters at the Royal Academy.]
[Footnote 52: The best repetition of this Hermitage _Magdalen_ is that in the Naples Museum; another was formerly in the Ashburton Collection, and yet another is in the Durazzo Gallery at Genoa. The similar, but not identical, picture in the Yarborough Collection is anything but "cold in tone," as Crowe and Cavalcaselle call it. It is, on the contrary, rich in colour, but as to the head of the saint, much less attractive than the original.]
[Footnote 53: This picture was presented by Philip IV. to Prince Charles of England, and was, at the sale of his collection, acquired by Jabach for £600, and from him bought by Cardinal Mazarin, whose heirs sold it to Louis XIV. The Cardinal thus possessed the two finest representations of the _Jupiter and Antiope_ legend--that by Correggio (also now in the Louvre) and the Titian. It was to these pictures especially that his touching farewell was addressed a few hours before his death.]
[Footnote 54: See Crowe and Cavalcaselle, vol. ii., Appendix, p. 340.]
[Footnote 55: See as to the vicissitudes through which the picture has passed an article, "Les Restaurations du tableau du Titien, _Jupiter et Antiope_" by Fernand Engerand, in the _Chronique des Arts_ of 7th May 1898.]
[Footnote 56: This picture came to England with the Orleans Gallery, and was until lately at Cobham Hall in the collection of the Earl of Darnley. It has now passed into that of Mrs J.L. Gardner of Boston, U.S. It is represented in the Prado Gallery by Rubens's superb copy. A Venetian copy on a very small scale exists in the Wallace Collection.]
[Footnote 57: A very clever adaptation of this work is No. 490 in the Prado Gallery under the name of the master. It is remarkable for the contrast between the moonlight which irradiates the Christ and the artificial light supplied by the lantern carried by one of the soldiers.]
[Footnote 58: This picture is mentioned in the list of 1574 furnished by Titian to Secretary Antonio Perez. A _Perseus and Andromeda_ by, or attributed to, Titian was in the Orleans Gallery. Is this the canvas now in the Wallace Collection, but not as yet publicly exhibited there? This last piece was undoubtedly produced in the _entourage_ and with the assistance of Titian, and it corresponds perfectly to Vasari's description of the _Deliverance of Andromeda_. It has the loose easy touch of the late time, but obscured as it at present is by dirt and successive coats of now discoloured varnish, no more definite opinion with regard to its merits can be given. No. 135 in the Hermitage is a canvas identical in subject and dimensions with this last-named picture. It was once attributed to Tintoretto, but is now put down to the school of Titian.]
[Footnote 59: Somewhat earlier in the order of the late works should come in, if we may venture to judge from the technique of a work that is practically a ruin, the _Adam and Eve_ of the Prado, in which, for the usual serpent with the human head of the feminine type, Titian has substituted as tempter an insignificant _amorino_. Far more enjoyable than this original in its present state is the magnificent copy, with slight yet marked variations, left behind by Rubens. This is also to be found in the Prado. A drawing by the great Antwerper from Titian's picture is in the Louvre. This is more markedly Flemish in aspect than the painted canvas, and lacks the foolish little Love.]
[Footnote 60: Formerly in the collection of the Earl of Dudley, upon the sale of which it was acquired by Mr. Ludwig Mond. It was in the Venetian exhibition at the New Gallery. There is an engraving of it by Pieter de Jode, jun.]
[Footnote 61: This is No. 186 in the catalogue of 1895. An etching of the picture appeared with an article "Les Écoles d'Italie au Musée de Vienne," from the pen of Herr Franz Wickhoff, in the _Gazette des Beaux Arts_ for February 1893. It was badly engraved for the Teniers Gallery by Lissebetius.]
[Footnote 62: Now in the Accademia delle Belle Arti of Venice.]
[Footnote 63: It was the intention of the writer to add to this monograph a short chapter on the drawings of Titian. The subject is, however, far too vast for such summary treatment, and its discussion must therefore be postponed. Leaving out of the question the very numerous drawings by Domenico Campagnola which Morelli has once for all separated from those of the greater master, and those also which, while belonging to the same class and period, are neither Titian's nor even Campagnola's, a few of the genuine landscapes may be just lightly touched upon. The beautiful early landscape with a battlemented castle, now or lately in the possession of Mr. T.W. Russell (reproduction in the British Museum marked 1879-5-10-224) is in the opinion of the writer a genuine Titian. _The Vision of St. Eustace_, reproduced in the first section of this monograph ("The Earlier Work of Titian") from the original in the British Museum, is a noble and pathetic example of the earlier manner. Perhaps the most beautiful of the landscape drawings still preserving something of the Giorgionesque aroma is that with the enigmatic female figure, entirely nude but with the head veiled, and the shepherds sheltering from the noonday sun, which is in the great collection at Chatsworth (No. 318 in Venetian Exhibition at New Gallery). Later than this is the fine landscape in the same collection with a riderless horse crossing a stream (No. 867 in Venetian Exhibition at New Gallery). The well-known _St. Jerome_ here given (British Museum) is ascribed by no less an authority than Giovanni Morelli to the master, but the poor quality of the little round trees, and of the background generally, is calculated to give pause to the student. A good example of the later style, in which the technique is more that of the painter and less that of the draughtsman, is the so-called _Landscape with the Pedlar_ at Chatsworth. But, faded though it is, the finest extant drawing of the later period is that here (p. 78) for the first time reproduced by the kind permission of the owner, Professor Legros, who had the great good fortune and good taste to discover it in a London book-shop. There can be no doubt that this ought to be in the Print Room at the British Museum. A good instance, on the other hand, of a drawing which cannot without demur be left to Titian, though it is a good deal too late in style for Domenico Campagnola, and moreover, much too fine and sincere for that clever, facile adapter of other people's work, is the beautiful pastoral in the Albertina at Vienna (B. 283), with the shepherd piping as he leads his flock homewards.] INDEX
"Agony in the Garden, The" (Escorial), 94 Alfonso d'Avalos, Marqués del Vasto (Madrid), 46 Alfonso d'Avalos, with his Family, Portrait of (Louvre), 17, 18 "Alfonso d'Este" (Madrid), 16, 54 "Annunciation, The" (Venice), 98 "Annunciation of the Virgin" (Verona), 56 Aretino, Portrait of (Pitti Gallery), 9, 46, 57, 58 Acquaviva, Duke of Arti, Portrait of, 74
"Bacchanals, The" (Madrid), 8, 87, 92 "Bacchus and Ariadne" (National Gallery), 8, 29, 87 "Battle of Cadore, The," 38, 39 Beccadelli, Legate, Portrait of (Uffizi), 75, 76 "Bella, La" (Pitti), 32 "Boy Baptist," 15
"Cain and Abel" (Venice), 50, 51 Charles V., Portrait of (Munich), 70 "Charles V. at Mühlberg" (Madrid), 8, 68-70 "Christ crowned with Thorns" (Louvre), 84 "Christ crowned with Thorns" (Munich), 104 "Christ with the Pilgrims at Emmaus" (Louvre), 57 Cornaro Family (Duke of Northumberland's Collection), 88 Cornaro, Portrait of (Castle Howard), 54 "Cornelia, La," Portrait of, 12
"Danaë and the Golden Rain" (Naples Museum), 62, 66 "Danaë with Venus and Adonis" (Madrid), 78-80 "David victorious over Goliath" (Venice),50, 51 "Deliverance of Andromeda, The," 95 "Descent of the Holy Spirit, The" (Venice), 50, 51 "Destruction of Pharaoh's Host, The," 72 "Diana and Actæon" (Bridgewater Gallery), 9, 86, 91, 95 "Diana and Calisto" (Bridgewater Gallery), 9, 86, 91
"Ecce Homo" (Madrid), 67; (Munich), 94; (Vienna), 53, 54. "Education of Cupid, The" (Rome), 98 "Entombment, The" (Louvre), 87 "Entombment, The" (Madrid), 87 Ercole d'Este, Portrait of, 16, 54
Farnese Family, Portrait of, 52 "Flora" (Uffizi), 29, 66 Francis the First, Portrait of (Louvre), 12, 13 Frederick of Saxony, Portrait of (Vienna), 71
"Girl in a Fur Cloak" (Vienna), 28, 83 Gonzaga, Eleonora, Portraits of, 28, 33, 34 Gonzaga, Federigo, Portrait of, 15 Gonzaga, Isabella d'Este, Portrait of, 12, 13
"Herodias" (Doria Gallery), 29, 66
"Ixion," 71
"Jupiter and Antiope," 76, 90, 92
Lavinia, Titian's daughter, 82, 83
"Madonna Addolorata," 78, 79 "Madonna and Child in a Landscape" (Munich), 95, 96 "Madonna and Child" (Mr. Ludwig Mond's Collection), 104 "Madonna and Child with St. Catherine and St. John" (National Gallery), 9, 10, 11 "Madonna and Child with St. Peter and St. Andrew" (Serravalle), 65 "Madonna del Coniglio" (Louvre), 9-11 "Magdalen" (Florence), 14, 15 "Martyrdom of St. Lawrence, The" (Venice), 84, 100, 101 Medici, Portrait of Ippolito de' (Pitti), 12, 13, 18-21
"Nymph and Shepherd" (Vienna), 9, 106
"Ottavio Farnese with his Beloved": see _Venus with Organ Player_
Philip II., Portrait of (Madrid), 16 "Pietà," 73, 94, 106, 107 Pope Paul III., Portrait of (Naples), 52; (Hermitage), 53 Pope Paul III. with Alessandro Farnese and Ottavio Farnese (Naples), 53, 60 "Portrait of a Man" (Dresden), 89 "Portrait of a Man in Black" (Louvre), 22 (footnote) "Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple" (Venice), 42-45 "Prometheus Bound to the Rock," 71 "Prince Philip of Austria in Armour" (Madrid), 73; (Pitti), 74; (Naples), 74
"Rape of Europa," 9, 90, 92, 95 "Religion succoured by Spain" (Madrid), 100
"Sacred and Profane Love" (Borghese Gallery), 8, 29, 92 "Sacrifice of Isaac" (Venice), 50 "St. Jerome in Prayer" (Louvre), 14 "St. Jerome in the Desert" (Milan), 96 "St. John in the Desert" (Venice), 64 "St. Margaret in a Landscape" (Madrid), 76 "St. Peter Martyr," 8, 11, 50, 79, 84 "Sisyphus" (Madrid), 71 Strada, Jacopo da, Portrait of (Vienna), 100
"Tantalus" (Madrid), 71 "Three Ages, The" (Bridgewater Gallery), 106 Titian, Portrait of, by himself (Berlin), 40, 41; (Madrid), 94; (Pitti), 9; (Uffizi), 40, 41 "Titian and Franceschini" (Windsor Castle), 42 "Trinity, The," 86 "Twelve Cæsars, Series of," 34-36
Vasto, Marqués del: see _Alfonso d' Avalos_ "Venere del Pardo" (Paris), 9; see also _Jupiter and Antiope_ "Venetian Storm Landscape" (Buckingham Palace), 10 "Venus Anadyomene" (Bridgewater Gallery), 29 "Venus and Cupid" (Tribuna), 14, 15, 29, 65 "Venus of Urbino," 28, 29, 32, 66, 92 "Venus with the Mirror" (Hermitage), 90 "Venus with the Organ Player" (Madrid), 66 "Virgen de los Dolores" (Madrid), 79
"Worship of Venus" (Madrid), 65, 66, 87
"Young Nobleman, Portrait of" (Florence), 22