_Raphael_ (Urbino: 1483-1520).
The genius of Raphael Santi (or Raffaello Sanzio, as the
modern Italians write his name) is an example of the force
alike of hereditary transmission of gifts and of surrounding
circumstances. He was the second son (born April 6) of
Giovanni Santi (see 751), a painter and poet of Urbino. The
son inherited the father's aptitude for painting; but as
Giovanni died when Raphael was only eleven, the boy's actual
teacher was Timoteo Viti, of whom there is a portrait in
chalks by Raphael in the British Museum. The young Raphael's
hereditary gifts were nurtured by the artistic atmosphere in
which he lived. Urbino, the Athens of Umbria, was at this
time one of the chief centres of artistic and intellectual
life in Italy; the ducal palace contained a fine collection
of pictures both by Italian and Flemish painters. Amongst
the latter were some by Van Eyck, and it is perhaps to this
influence that we may attribute the miniature-like care of
Raphael's earliest work, which is conspicuous in the "Vision of
a Knight," and may be seen again in the jewel painting here.
An intense power of assimilation--of learning all things from
all men--characterised Raphael throughout his life, and is one
of the main causes of the width of range and catholicity of
taste to which he owes his universal popularity. Thus when he
went (probably not before 1500) to study under Perugino, he
so quickly assimilated the style of that master that he has
been credited with some of the design and even of the work in
Perugino's masterpiece, just as some of his pictures were, says
Vasari, mistaken for Perugino's. In 1504 he went to Florence,
which was his headquarters for the next four years. He at
once took a leading part in the artistic fraternity there,
and put one great artist after another under contribution for
some special power of drawing, beauty of colour, or grace of
composition. Thus from Signorelli and Michelangelo he learnt
to study the human form; it was at Florence, says Vasari, that
Raphael began to study the nude and to make anatomical drawings
from dissected corpses. From Leonardo da Vinci (sketches from
whom by Raphael may be seen at Oxford) he learnt soft beauty
of expression, and it is to this master's influence perhaps
that the smile of his Madonnas may be traced. In 1508 Raphael
was invited by the Pope Julius II. to Rome, and there he spent
the greater part of his life--painting, besides innumerable
altar-pieces and cabinet pictures, his famous cartoons and
frescoes. And yet he was only thirty-seven when he died.
His time was partly occupied too with portraiture, in which
he excelled. In 1514 he accepted the responsible office of
architect of St. Peter's, left vacant by the death of his
friend Bramante. A year later he was installed as director of
the excavations then in progress among the ruins of ancient
Rome, and flung himself into the work with devoted ardour. In
the heavy and multifarious work thus crowded upon him, Raphael
employed many assistants, among whom were Giulio Romano,
Giovanni da Udine, and Perino del Vaga, and in some of the
pictures of his Roman period the master's own hand executed
little more than the finishing touches. All that we know of
Raphael's private life and character reflects that innate love
of beauty which fused all he borrowed into something of his
own. "All were surpassed by him," says Vasari, "in friendly
courtesy as well as in art; all confessed the influence of
his sweet and gracious disposition, which was so replete with
excellence and so perfect in all the charities, that not only
was he honoured by men but even by the very animals, who would
constantly follow his steps and always loved him." In morals he
was pure, and might indeed be called almost immaculate, judged
by the lax standard of his age. The Cardinal Bibiena designed
his niece for Raphael, but--
Rafael made a century of sonnets,
Made and wrote them in a certain volume
Dinted with the silver-pointed pencil
Else he only used to draw Madonnas:
These, the world might view--but one, the volume.
Who that one, you ask? Your heart instructs you.
He lived a painter among princes--"a model," says Vasari,
"of how we should comport ourselves towards great men," but
also a prince among painters--jealous of none, kindly to
all. "Whenever any other painter, whether known to him or
not, requested any assistance, he would invariably leave his
work to do him service; and his school--consisting of some
fifty painters, all men of ability and distinction--continued
in such unity and concord that all harsh feelings and evil
dispositions became subdued and disappeared at the sight of
him." And so when he died--having impaired his constitution by
a life of ceaseless toil--Rome went into a paroxysm of grief,
and flocked, as he lay in state, to catch a last sight of the
"divine painter." He died on his birthday, April 6, and was
buried in the Pantheon with great solemnities.
With regard to Raphael's position in the history of art, it
is important to distinguish between his different "periods,"
which correspond, as will be seen, with the divisions of his
life. The National Gallery is fortunate in having specimens of
all the periods, and the importance of the pictures from this
point of view is noted under the several numbers, but it may
be convenient to summarise the matter briefly here. (1) First,
or Perugian period, down to 1504--which again may perhaps be
subdivided as explained under 213. During this period his works
closely resemble Perugino's--the most typical of them are the
"Sposalizio," at Milan, copied from Perugino's painting of
the same subject, now at Caen; and the "Crucifixion," in Mr.
L. Mond's Collection, of which Vasari says: "If it were not
for the name of Raphael written upon it, it would be supposed
by every one to be a work of Pietro Perugino." (2) Second,
or Florentine period: 1504-1508. To this period belong the
"Madonna del Granduca" at Florence, "La Belle Jardinière" at
the Louvre, and in this country the Madonna at Lord Cowper's
(Panshanger), the Bridgewater Madonna (929), the St. Catherine
(168), and this "Ansidei Madonna." The importance of this
picture in the history of art is that it shows the transition
from the first to the second period, being dated (on the border
of the Virgin's robe below her left arm) MDVI, 1506. A glance
at the Perugino No. 288 will show how much of that master's
influence remains. "To his earlier Perugian manner we ascribe,"
says Waagen (_Treasures of Art in Great Britain_, iii. 128),
"the head of the Virgin, which, however, is the most beautiful
and noble development of this whole style, the rather too
round body of the otherwise very lovely child, the expression
of ardent yearning in St. John, as well as the position of
his feet, resembling that of St. Joseph in the 'Sposalizio,'
the cast of the draperies of the Virgin and St. Nicholas, the
use of several colours which have turned very dark, such as
the blue in the robe of the Virgin, the green in the canopy,
in the upper garment of St. Nicholas, and in the landscape,
and the use of gold in the hems, in the glories, in the two
Greek borders, and in the inscription SALVE MATER CHRISTI on
the wooden throne." Another point of special value in this
picture is that, like the Sistine Madonna, it is entirely by
Raphael's own hand, no pupil or assistant having touched it.
(3) Third, or Roman period, 1508-1520. The chief works of this
period are the frescoes in the Vatican. But in this country
there are the famous cartoons (at South Kensington), and in
the National Gallery the portrait of Julius II. (27), and the
Garvagh Madonna (744). The characteristics of this period are,
besides the perfection of executive power, the substitution
of classical for religious motive, and the straining after
dramatic effect.
From the technical point of view, this division into three (or
four) periods is instructive, but from the point of view of
motive a better division is that between his earlier and his
later work, the turning-point being his arrival in Rome. "In
his twenty-fifth year," says Ruskin (Edinburgh _Lectures on
Architecture and Painting_, p. 213), "one half-year only past
the precise centre of his available life, he was sent for to
Rome, to decorate the Vatican for Pope Julius II., and having
until that time worked exclusively in the ancient and stern
mediæval manner, he, in the first chamber which he decorated
in that palace, wrote upon its walls the _Mene_, _Tekel_,
_Upharsin_ of the arts of Christianity. And he wrote it thus:
On one wall of that chamber he placed a picture of the World
or Kingdom of _Theology_, presided over by _Christ_. And on
the side wall of that same chamber he placed the World or
Kingdom of _Poetry_, presided over by _Apollo_. And from that
spot, and from that hour, the intellect and the art of Italy
date their degradation.... And it was brought about in great
part by the very excellences of the man who had thus marked
the commencement of decline. The perfection of execution and
the beauty of feature which were attained in his works, and
in those of his greatest contemporaries, rendered finish of
execution and beauty of form the chief objects of all artists;
and thenceforward execution was looked for rather than thought,
and beauty rather than veracity.... The mediæval principles
led _up_ to Raphael, and the modern principles lead _down_
from him." The position of Raphael in the history of art
is thus closely parallel to that of his great contemporary
Michael Angelo (see 790). In Michael Angelo the art of Florence
reached its culmination and fell rapidly to Giulio Romano and
Venusti. In Raphael the art of Umbria was perfected and led
down to the conventional sentimentalities against which the
"Pre-Raphaelites" have in modern times revolted.
The "Ansidei Madonna," so called from having been painted for the
Ansidei family at Perugia,[230] was bought from the Duke of Marlborough
by the nation for £70,000--more than three times the highest price ever
before paid for a picture, and equal to more than £14 per square inch.
The importance of the picture to the student has been partly described
above; but to this must be added its unusual size and excellent state
of preservation, and the fact that whilst on the one hand the National
Gallery had before no _chef d'oeuvre_ of Raphael, the number of such
works not already placed in foreign galleries was very small.[231]
On its own merits the "Ansidei Madonna" is by common consent one of
the most perfect pictures in the world. It has all the essentials of
the greatest art. First it is "wrought in entirely consistent and
permanent materials. The gold is represented by painting, not laid
on with real gold, and the painting is so secure that nearly four
hundred years have produced in it no harmful change." "The exquisite
purity of the colour and the silvery and luminous quality of its
tones"[232] are as remarkable to-day as they must have been when the
panel left the painter's easel. Secondly, "the figures are in perfect
peace. Those are the two first attributes of the best art. Faultless
workmanship and perfect serenity; a continuous, not momentary,
action, or entire inaction; you are to be interested, in the living
creatures, not in what is happening to them. Then the third attribute
of the best art is that it compels you to think of the spirit of the
creature, and therefore of its face, more than of its body. And the
fourth is that in the face you shall be led to see only beauty or
joy--never vileness, vice, or pain" (_Relation between Michael Angelo
and Tintoret_, pp. 14, 15). In fulfilling these essentials of the
highest art, the picture becomes also one of the noblest embodiments
of Christianity. Raphael is above all the painter of motherhood and
childhood--of the self-forgetting love of the one, and the fearless
faith of the other--the human relationship which of all others is the
most divine. On either side are two saints--types both of them of
the peace of Christianity. In the figure of St. John the Baptist on
the left--with his rough camel skin upon him, and an expression of
ecstatic contemplation on his face--the joy that comes from a life of
self-sacrifice is made manifest; in that of the good Bishop Nicholas
of Bari, the peace that comes from knowledge. The three balls at his
feet are a favourite emblem of the saint; typical partly of the mystery
of the Trinity, but referring also to the three purses of gold which
he is said to have thrown into a poor man's window that his daughters
might not be portionless. Further we may notice how the same impression
of infinite peace is conveyed by the landscape, and especially by the
open sky visible on either side of the throne. This open sky "is of
all visible things the least material, the least finite, the farthest
withdrawn from the earth prison-house, the most typical of the nature
of God, the most suggestive of the glory of His dwelling-place. For
the sky of night, though we may know it boundless, is dark; it is a
studded vault, a roof that seems to shut us in and down; but the bright
distance has no limit: we feel its infinity, as we rejoice in its
purity of light" (_Modern Painters_, vol. ii. pt. iii. sec. i. ch. v.
§ 5).[233]
It has been said above that the Ansidei Madonna is "by common consent
one of the most perfect pictures in the world." Criticisms which
have been published since its acquisition by the National Gallery
require that statement to be modified. Thus, Mr. G. A. Storey, R.A.,
in the course of a public lecture, has remarked that "as compared
with Raphael's other works, the Ansidei Madonna lacked the touch of
nature, the play and harmony that were characteristic of the master.
All the heads were looking in the same direction, and the figure of the
Virgin was scarcely graceful. Nor was there the unity necessary to a
complete composition, for each figure seemed unconnected with the rest,
and, indeed, they seemed to be almost unconscious of each other's
existence." Mr. Ford Madox Brown (_Magazine of Art_, Feb. 1890) is more
severe still. "The Bishop saint of Bari," he says, "is certainly a fine
figure, worthy of the master it is attributed to. The Virgin and Child,
however, are for sentiment just like two wax doll lay figures, making
it hard to conceive how the same mighty hand can have produced anything
so tame; while the figure of the Baptist, with ill-drawn legs, is
positively repulsive both for pose and for expression of countenance.
Surely Raphael could have had no hand in it." Mr. Pater, on the other
hand, commends the Ansidei Madonna to students of Raphael as more
worthy of admiration than any other work of the master: "I find there,
at first sight, with something of the pleasure one has in a proposition
of Euclid, a sense of the power of the understanding, in the economy
with which he has reduced his material to the simplest terms. He is
painting in Florence, but for Perugia, and sends it a specimen of its
own old art--Mary and the babe enthroned, with St. Nicholas and the
Baptist in attendance on either side. The kind of thing people there
had already seen so many times, but done better, in a sense not to
be measured by degrees, with a wholly original freedom and life and
grace, though he perhaps is unaware, done better as a whole, because
better in every minute particular, than ever before. The scrupulous
scholar, aged twenty-three, is now indeed a master, but still goes
carefully. Note, therefore, how much mere exclusion counts for in the
positive effect of his work. There is a saying that the true artist is
known best by what he omits. Yes, because the whole question of good
taste is involved precisely in such jealous omission. Note this, for
instance, in the familiar Apennine background, with its blue hills
and brown towns, faultless, for once--for once only--and observe, in
the Umbrian pictures around, how often such background is marred by
grotesque natural, or architectural detail, by incongruous or childish
incident. In this cool, pearl-gray, quiet place, where colour tells for
double,--the jewelled cope, the painted book in the hand of Mary, the
chaplet of red coral,--one is reminded that among all classical writers
Raphael's preference was for the faultless Virgil. How orderly, how
divinely clean and sweet the flesh, the vesture, the floor, the earth
and sky! Ah, say rather the hand, the method of the painter! There is
an unmistakable pledge of strength, of movement and animation in the
cast of the Baptist's countenance, but reserved, repressed. Strange,
Raphael has given him a staff of transparent crystal. Keep, then, to
that picture as the embodied formula of Raphael's genius. Amid all he
has here already achieved, full, we may think, of the quiet assurance
of what is to come, his attitude is still that of the scholar; he
seems still to be saying, before all things, from first to last, 'I am
utterly purposed that I will not offend'" (_Miscellaneous Studies_, p.
53).