Mr. Fred Roe’s book of ancient coffers and cupboards must surely be

the first of many such monographs. To-day the process block has made

it possible to illustrate with ease the most elaborate details of the

work of the ancient craftsmen, and within the covers of a book we may

bear home our museum to be pored over at leisure. And here we have the

chosen pieces of many museums, many churches, and many collectors’

hoards, in a form which makes them as useful to the new craftsmen as

to the antiquary. It is true that Mr. Roe has not given us process

work alone. Although such illustrations as those of the famous chest

of the twelve knights at the Cluny and the St. George chest at South

Kensington leave nothing to be desired, Mr. Roe does not allow it to be

forgotten that he can use a pencil with effect. His drawings, although

they have nothing of the tight and \T\-squared manner familiar in

architects’ drawings of old pieces, yet give a pleasant impression of

truth and trustworthiness, and err not on the side of that dangerous

cleverness which so often persuaded that great man M. Viollet le Duc

to translate ornament and detail from every scratch and stain of his

model. With a volume of the _Mobilier Français_ at hand Mr. Roe may

be at issue with the Frenchman on a definite point. Here we have the

great _armoire_ of Noyon as presented spick and span in the coloured

drawing of M. Viollet le Duc, and here we have it also from the pencil

of Mr. Roe. To our mind Mr. Roe seems the more trustworthy interpreter,

but one or other is at fault. On the first of the eight doors of the

_armoire_ Mr. Roe gives us a figure of the Virgin in a sweeping robe,

holding the Child in her arms. M. Viollet le Duc, with abundant detail,

gives us the same door with a bare-legged St. John Baptist in his

camel’s hair, supporting in his arms a lamb. ¶ It is no disparagement

to Mr. Roe’s written commentary to say that the early history of the

chest is told clearly enough by his well-arranged series of drawings

and photographs. We owe him thanks that he has avoided the temptation

which would persuade the writer upon any side of English archaeology

to gallop through his subject from Stonehenge to the great exhibition

within the covers of a single book. Here we have the history of the

mediaeval chest, from the thirteenth-century examples with which we

must perforce begin, to the end of the Gothic work in the fifteen

hundreds. There Mr. Roe stays, and for the story of the Elizabeth and

seventeenth-century chests, which are still in such plenty amongst us,

we may wait in good content for Mr. Roe’s future work. ¶ To those who

are familiar with inventories, and wills, and such-like documents of

the intimate life of our ancestors, the picture of the ancient English

home rises up furnished with a bed, a brass pot, and a chest; for

these good things came ever foremost amongst the few household goods

of folk of the middling sort. It would be difficult to say where the

collector might lay his hand nowadays upon the woodwork of a mediaeval

bed; the brass pots have for the most part served their day and gone

back to the foundry furnace; but the oaken chest remains here and there

in the countryside for a most curious and venerable relic. ¶ We can

hardly doubt that the familiar chest was from the beginning cunningly

decorated; but accurate knowledge begins with the thirteenth century,

with vast fronts of one or more broad beams set longways between two

broad uprights. For ornament we have suggestions of arch-work simply

indicated with chiselled lines and roundels of tracery. The ends are

solidly framed with massive timbers. Of painted chests a notable

example remains at Newport in Essex, and this Mr. Roe shows us in its

colours. The inside of the lid when upreared shows like a painted

reredos with a rood, the Virgin and St. John, and St. Peter and St.

Paul, each within a painted archway of reds and greens. Twelve shields

appear upon the chest, but on these remains no trace of the painted

bearings which would have told us the story of the piece. Below the

twelve shields, fessewise across the front of the chest runs a most

singular ornament, a broad band of open tracery cast in pewter. ¶ The

thirteenth century closes with the richly ornamented chest-fronts

which endure for the rest of the medieval period. The long chest in

Saltwood church is assigned by Mr. Roe to the century-end. The front

is covered with tracery work with deep mullions, the broad uprights

at the ends being filled with winged dragons in square panels. To

this century-end belongs also that most famous and glorious chest

which is the pride of the Musée Cluny, along whose mullioned front

stand twelve knights with shields and ailettes of their arms; and here

again we feel that, although the lighting of Mr. Roe’s photograph was

unfortunate, our modern illustrations must take the place of Viollet

le Duc’s too highly wrought drawings. ¶ Throughout the fourteenth

century we find in England the traditional window tracery along the

chest front, and the dragons or beasts in squared compartments of

the broad uprights. From Hultoft, in Lincolnshire, we have in a late

fourteenth-century chest an early example of a panelled and buttressed

piece, in which pierced and cut-out tracery has been applied to a flush

front. A lid painted inside with shields of arms belongs to a chest

formerly in the Chancery court of Durham, and, apart from its beauty,

claims our interest by the fact that the first shield is that of the

Aungerviles, of whom came Richard of Bury, bishop of Durham, and author

of the ‘Philobiblon,’ one of those few mediaeval books which yet find

readers. Concerning this shield, we may remark that Mr. Roe’s ‘Gules,

a cinquefoil _or_ (or argent) ermine pierced (of the field?)’ is not a

very lucid piece of blazonry. Between the shields a dragon meets with

a centaur-like figure in yellow hood and red kilt ‘running a tilt,’ as

Mr. Roe somewhat loosely phrases it, but really playing with the sword

and buckler. Forty-five years ago this chest was still in the Chancery

court; if we ask why it is now in the hands of an ‘eminent antiquary,’

we should have for answer a familiar story of the ignorance and wanton

folly of our half-civilized English official classes. A sad side of Mr.

Roe’s narrative is the recurrent exclamation at the fact that a church

chest, perfect in the days of Parker, Cotman, or Shaw, is now staved

in, or clumsily restored. This in such cases where the chest has been

suffered to remain. The Wittersham chest does not seem to have stayed

at Wittersham long after its beauties had been published to the world

in a ‘Dictionary of Architecture,’ and the fact that the nameless

connoisseur who removed it took with him the ancient parish stocks as

well leaves Wittersham without the means of dealing with the offence

of those who should have been its custodians. Parker engraves a famous

chest at Guestling, of which but one panel remained when the present

rector came to Guestling, and even this poor relic has gone the way

of the rest. It would be well if the thief were the one enemy of such

treasures--in that case the nation might come to its own some day; but

the church stove, even in our own time, has crackled with fuel for the

loss of which our descendants will curse their pig-hearted ancestry.

¶ Of the most interesting type, which Mr. Roe, who shuns the English

word chest, is pleased to call a ‘tilting coffer,’ we are afforded a

valuable set of pictures. It is good to see that perhaps the finest

panel of St. George and his dragon and Dame Cleodolinde is in our own

national collection at South Kensington. The barbarously fine chest at

Ypres will stand to all who know it for a familiar example. Mr. Roe,

being possessed with the idea that these figured chests are English in

design and working, is persuaded that the Ypres chest may have been

abandoned by the English army which sieged Ypres in 1383; but we may

confess that we find no notably English feeling in this chest or its

fellows. ¶ To follow the story of the gothic chest to its running to

seed in the sixteenth century were to encroach upon the office of Mr.

Roe’s excellent monograph. Mr. Roe’s work is clear and to the point.

We feel that he has not only drawn and photographed, but handled and

rummaged the chests of which he tells us. He is cunning in hinges

and locks, and forgeries of respectable standing and the mis-datings

of long tradition do not entangle him. It may perhaps be said of his

terminology that he attaches too definite and settled a meaning to

the words which he chooses to apply to various forms of the objects

of his study. The definition of a coffer as ‘a box of great strength

for the keeping and transport of weighty articles, having its front

formed by a single panel,’ as distinct from a hutch, ‘a household

coffer of a rough description,’ strikes us as too assured and exact. A

more serious blemish arises from Mr. Roe’s apparent belief that from

the character of the work upon a chest one may easily guess whether

its first home were in church or hall. The familiar window tracery

of many chest-fronts spells for him plainly church or monastery. By

the same token Mr. Roe would have us set down for a churchman every

fourteenth-century man who wore ‘Poules windowes’ cut in his shoe

leather, and the knights and dragons of many miserere-seats would show

him that the first place of their setting-up was in the castle hall.

Another odd fancy of Mr. Roe’s persuades him that the ‘civil wars,’

apparently those of the king and commonwealth, account for the loss of

many pieces of English gothic furniture. Such a fancy does not argue an

intimate knowledge of the history of the seventeenth-century struggles,

than which no wars have been waged with less sacking and burning; and

Mr. Roe, as his last words show, knows full well that the fellest

enemies of our mediaeval relics flourished in the nineteenth century

in the close and the rectory, sat at high tables of old foundations,

and even came to good credit as scholars and antiquaries. There are

honoured names amongst us to-day whose bearers have done deeds of

destruction to which Merciful Strickalthrow or Corporal Humgudgeon

would not have set their hands.

O. B.

~A Guide to Siena: History and Art.~ By William Heywood and Lucy

Olcott. Enrico Torrini, Siena, 1903.

Certainly it never rains but it pours. Siena, so long without any

adequate guide to her intensely interesting history and art, has

suddenly broken out into quite a literature to herself. Scarcely

has the controversy over the respective merits, or the reverse, of

Professor Langton Douglas’s ‘History’ and Mr. Gardner’s ‘Story’ ceased

to rouse our interest before a third guide appears in the field, which

to our mind is infinitely the best of the three. Less pretentious and

less costly, it contains in its smaller compass a mass of information

in a readable form that is within the comprehension of the dullest,

and yet worthy of the careful perusal of the most critical. Both Mr.

Heywood and Miss Olcott live in and love Siena, so that their several

parts are not only written _con amore_, but on carefully studied

data. The history is written with a swing that carries one along, and

yet leaves one at the end with a clear idea of what Siena was at her

best. Mr. Heywood’s charm of style--as might be expected from his

former work--is very great. It is easier, more lucid, and, without

being any the less expressive or forcible, is wholly free from the

few blemishes that might be objected to in his previous essays. No

one understands better than he the complications and kaleidoscopic

changes that occurred with so much abruptness in the government of

the republic. Therefore we have the more occasion to be grateful to

him for having set the main facts of her story before us, unhampered

by superfluous digressions and comments. Once only he pauses to give

eloquent expression to his admiration for that much-misunderstood and

much-abused body, the _Nove_, whose rule (1292-1355) was the longest

and most prosperous of all the various combinations that held sway in

Siena. They are usually represented as ruthless tyrants, and generally

detested and hateful; whereas there can be no question that their

firm, autocratic rule, if severe and sometimes cruel, held in check

alike arrogant noble and turbulent demagogue, and that under their

guidance Siena reached the highest point of her prosperity, internal

and external. At home flourished the arts of peace as they never did

again, and abroad her fame was European, her merchants were respected,

and her produce in demand throughout the civilized world. With the

fall of the _Nove_ fell Siena. Their hold over the reins of government

lasted sixty-three years;--no other body again held them so long until

she finally sank into the position of a subject city. Mr. Heywood’s

notices as to the saints and writers of Siena are all too brief, and

we would like to hear more from him about them, but space clearly

forbids: and, as he points out, readers may turn to his other works

for much that is perforce left unrelated here. We can only regret one

note (on p. 68), which we feel must have been inadvertent on his part,

and certain expressions in the bibliographical notice, to which we

refer presently. ¶ Miss Olcott’s section, being, we believe, her first

literary work, deserves an unusually high meed of praise. One may not

always agree with her attributions, and her judgement on painters that

she does not like is severe and not always quite just;--for example,

her attitude towards Sodoma and Beccafumi, respectively, will not be

endorsed by all her readers;--still, she has so evidently studied her

subject with thoroughness and care, working under the best direction,

and weighing her facts with so much patience and real insight, that one

can scarcely praise this first essay of hers too highly. Her attitude

towards the native Sienese artists of the fourteenth and fifteenth

centuries is so truly devotional that, even if it blinds her to the

beauties and merits of later workers, it disarms severe criticism. She

points out very truly--and in this respect she follows the same line

as Mr. Heywood in his history--that the art of Siena never rose again

after the middle of the fourteenth century (_i.e._, contemporarily

with the fall of the _Nove_) to the point that it then attained.

The various foreign influences that eventually came into the state

wrought fine achievements, but native talent was never again what it

had been in the days of Duccio, Simone Martini, and their immediate

successors. It is, however, true that in the following century very

great artists did arise, in whose praise the authoress is specially

eloquent. That she has great reason, the lovely works of such men as

Matteo di Giovanni, Neroccio di Landi, Lorenzo di Pietro (Vecchietta),

and Giovanni di Stefano (Sassetta) amply testify to those who have

eyes to see. To Neroccio and Vecchietta, moreover, she draws further

notice, since, like so many artists of their day, they were both

sculptors and painters, and obtained more than ordinary success in

either of the greater arts. Thus panel, bronze, and marble, when

touched by them, produce effects of exquisite charm in gracious line

and lovely expression that are unsurpassed and unsurpassable. We feel

no doubt that to walk through the city in Miss Olcott’s company will

be a pleasure, which student and traveller cannot fail to appreciate.

That small mistakes as to fact have occasionally crept in was of course

unavoidable; but for practical purposes they are unimportant. She has

managed to avoid the dullness of a mere record of facts, though her

notes are full of practically useful side-information; while, on the

other hand, she has not fallen into that temptation to dogmatize, so

difficult to escape from when dealing with a specialized school of

painting like that of Siena. ¶ Student and traveller alike have much

reason to be grateful for the work; mainly on account of its directness

and simplicity; though also for the valuable footnotes supplied by both

authors. The bibliographical lists are of great interest, but we cannot

refrain from remarking that the notice as to books to be avoided is, to

say the least of it, in doubtful taste. We understand the irritation

caused by such books as those specified to writers who have studied the

subject carefully, and we recognize fully the incalculable mischief

done by the inaccuracies of the modern catchpenny magazine contributor;

but we cannot but think so long and virulent an attack, however justly

deserved, quite unsuitable within the pages of a guide book. We suggest

that in a future edition these pages might be omitted, as being the

only serious blemish to a book on which authors and publisher may be

very heartily congratulated.

R. H. H. C.

~Yacoub Artin Pasha: Contribution à l’Étude du Blason en Orient.~

Londres (B. Quaritch), 1902.

The prospectus issued by the publisher of this work contained the

extraordinary statement that ‘E. T. Rogers Bey, in his contributions to

the subject, established beyond doubt that coats of arms and armorial

bearings were introduced into Europe by the crusaders in imitation of

the practice of the eastern princes whom they had encountered in the

field of battle.’ It would surprise no one acquainted with the vexed

question of heraldic ‘origins’ to know that he did nothing of the

kind. What he did advance was that ‘... les avis sont partagés sur la

question de savoir si les Croisés ont pulsé en Orient les notions

de cet art [blazon] ou s’il est exclusivement d’origine européenne.

Les arguments en faveur de son origine orientale me paraissent les

mieux fondés, car ils sont soutenus par des données historiques. Un

esprit militaire et même chevaleresque existait parmi les Musulmans

de l’Arabie, de la Syrie et de l’Égypte, longtemps avant la formation

de nos ordres de templiers et de chevaliers; et il est fort probable

que cet esprit guerrier s’est communiqué par l’entremise des Venitiens

et des Génois et repandu peu à peu en Europe même avant la première

croisade.’ We do not hesitate to say that beyond this string of theory

there is nothing in the forty-nine pages of Rogers Bey’s ‘Le Blason

chez les Princes Musulmans de l’Égypte et de la Syrie’ (Bulletin de

l’Institut Égyptien, 1880) offering proof of the derivation of European

armory from the east. All this we quote _in extenso_ because Artin

Pasha’s work is, he states, to be regarded as the sequel to Rogers

Bey’s memoir, and because, where he touches the origin of western

heraldry, his remarks are likewise mere unfounded assertion. Neither

does his knowledge of European arms appear to be of the most accurate

order; he states that Louis IX of France was the first to adopt the

fleur de lys, when in fact the seal of that monarch’s father, Louis

VIII, bears a shield semé de lys, bearings which may be traced back to

the mantle and shoes worn by Philip Augustus at his ‘sacre’ in 1179,

similarly sown with fleurs de lys. Needless to say, the correctness of

no theory concerning the origin of European blazon is demonstrable,

and it is to be regretted that the author did not steer clear of it

altogether. As an account of Moslem blazon and of the emblems found

upon Arabic glass, pottery, sculpture, coins, metal-work and arms,

Artin Pasha’s work, in spite of such blemishes, will be of great

value to archaeologists and collectors. The author has been at pains

to obtain as complete a series as possible of the strange insignia

frequently figuring upon these works of art. His plan is to discuss the

bearings such as the fleur de lys, lion, fish, eagle, cup, dice, horns,

the so-called hieroglyphic signs, the sword and sabre, crescent, cross,

dagger, separately, each with its history, and a catalogue of extant

examples. Of these over three hundred are reproduced, many in colour,

from Egypt and the continental and London museums. Unfortunately many

are unidentified, and it seems to us that it would have increased

the value of the book if approximate dates had been assigned to the

objects decorated with such insignia as remain for the present in this

category. The constitution of mameluke society, to which the majority

of mediaeval armigerous Egyptians belonged, is the great obstacle to

a systematic identification or study of their heraldry, if heraldry

it can be called. The cases in which insignia are known to have been

inherited are so few, says the author, that one cannot affirm that

hereditary blazon generally existed in Egypt, though in the case of

the emirs he concludes for the existence of transmission from father

to son; admittance to the mameluke body was closed, apparently, to

their legal offspring, and in the majority of cases their insignia

denoted official or court rank and changed with it. ¶ Artin Pasha gives

also a great deal of information concerning the emblems used by other

oriental nations, though his arguments seem occasionally to bring

within the net heraldic purely conventionalized animal or vegetable

forms, attributing to much merely symbolical or ornamental material a

character unwarranted by the strict significance of the term blazon.

A. V. ~de~ P.

~Jules Helbig. La Peinture au pays de Liége et sur les bords de la

Meuse.~ xiv and 510 pp., 30 phototypes, and numerous cuts. Liége,

1903. 12 by 8½ inches. 15s.

This, the second and much enlarged edition of a volume published thirty

years ago and long out of print, contains the fruits of the author’s

researches, not only at Liége and in the Mosan towns, but also in many

museums and private collections. ¶ In the first fifty pages he has

brought together all the documentary evidence as to the introduction

and progress of art in the principality, illustrating the same by

reproductions of the paintings on the mutilated shrine of Saint Odilia

at Kerniel, of miniatures from manuscripts in the British Museum,

the Royal Library at Brussels, etc., and of the exquisite storied

embroideries on the antependium from the church of Saint Martin at

Liége, now in the Industrial Art Museum at Brussels. In the next three

chapters the author treats of the Benedictine artists of Liége, of the

Mosan contemporaries of the Van Eycks, and of the paintings executed

in the fifteenth century, of which so little has escaped destruction.

As to the painters who flourished in the sixteenth century there is

fuller information, though there yet remains much to be done before

the history of Joachim Patenir and Henry Bles can be cleared up and

their works classified. Of Lambert Lombard and his pupils and followers

the author gives us a full account, and from their time onwards to

the end of the eighteenth century this volume contains a thoroughly

complete history of the painters who flourished in the district and

of the paintings they executed. We congratulate the author on the

termination of this work, which, with the volume on sculpture and the

plastic arts published by him in 1890, constitutes a very satisfactory

and well-illustrated history of art in the principality of Liége.

W. H. J. W.

PERIODICALS

~Jahrbuch der königlich preussischen Kunstsammlungen~, 1903, 2.~

Heft~.--The article of most general interest in the current number

is that by Drs. Ludwig and Bode on the picture of the Resurrection

recently acquired by the Berlin gallery from Count Roncalli of Bergamo.

The assumption that this is by Giovanni Bellini himself rests on the

following evidence: The church of St. Michael, on the cemetery island

of Venice, was so ruined in 1469 that the abbot of the Camaldulensian

house to which it belonged began to rebuild it. In the year 1475 the

patrician Marco Zorzi, of the Bertucci family, obtained permission

to build and furnish a family chapel in the church. The chapel was

dedicated to the Virgin, but in his mother’s will, dated 1479, it is

already referred to as the chapel of the Resurrection. Then follows the

testimony of later writers. Sansovino, 1581, describing the church,

says, ‘La risurrezzione a olio fu del medisimo Gian Bellino.’ Ridolfi,

1648, describes the picture fully, and attributes it to Bellini.

Boschini, 1664, calls it a Cima, an attribution which clung to the

picture in St. Michael’s till 1810, when it disappeared. It will be

noted that there is hitherto no proof that the Roncalli picture stood

once in the chapel in question. That a composition of this kind by

Bellini existed was already to be guessed from various motives copied

in other pictures. The question remains whether this is the identical

picture, and not, as has been hitherto thought, a late version by

Basaiti, Previtali or Bartolommeo Veneto. On the other hand it is noted

that Ridolfi’s account of the picture is so minute that one may assume

that the Roncalli picture is either the actual one that stood in

Zorzi’s chapel or an exact copy. The problem therefore resolves itself

into the question of whether the existing picture is a copy or not.

Drs. Ludwig and Bode are agreed that it is an original, and in spite

of some curious points which do not precisely agree with any other

existing Bellini we think they are right. The picture with which it has

most affinity is the Transfiguration at Naples, to which for various

reasons we may assign a date just a year or two previous to 1478, the

date of this work. If this is correct the likeness to Basaiti, Cima

and Bartolommeo Veneto is to be explained by the fact that this work

exercised a profound influence on the rising generation of Venetian

painters. It is to be noted also that we have here already the peculiar

honeycombed rock formation which the Vicentine painters, Montagna in

particular, afterwards employed. Whatever be the final verdict as to

the authorship of the work, the authorities of the Berlin gallery are

to be congratulated upon having secured one of the most imaginative

compositions in the whole range of Venetian art.--R. E. F.

Dr. Bode writes on the work of Hercules Segers, whose pictures, long

forgotten or ascribed to other masters, Rembrandt, Van Goyen, or

Vermeer of Haarlem, have recently been rediscovered, mainly through

the insight of Dr. Bode himself. The Berlin gallery has possessed

since 1874 the only signed picture hitherto known; another signed

work is now in the possession of Dr. Hofstede de Groot. These two, a

second landscape lately acquired by the Berlin gallery, and a picture

exhibited in London in 1901 under the name of Vermeer, but now the

property of Herr Simon, are reproduced. Other pictures discussed in the

text are a landscape ascribed to Rembrandt in the Uffizi and another,

also under Rembrandt’s name, in the National Gallery of Scotland.

A great part of the article is devoted to the etchings, the true

starting-point of all our knowledge of Segers. About sixty of these

are known, of which the Amsterdam cabinet has fifty, while very few

other collections possess any considerable number. Several admirable

facsimiles in colour accompany the article, and the interesting

announcement is made that a publication of the entire work of Segers is

contemplated, under the editorship of Prof. Jaro Springer. Almost all

the etchings are landscapes, generally printed in colour on a prepared

ground, and often finished by the artist with the brush. Dr. Bode

discusses the question whether the wild mountain scenery depicted in

most of them was invented by the artist or true to nature, and decides

for the latter alternative. A great curiosity is the etching in colours

of the Lamentation for Christ, copied by Segers from a wood-cut by Hans

Baldung. An excellent reproduction is given of the impression recently

acquired by the Berlin cabinet. Dr. Bode does not mention the fact that

an impression was already known in the collection of King Frederick

Augustus II at Dresden, where it passed for a drawing by Baldung till

its true character was discerned some years ago by Prof. Lehrs.

C. D.

~L’Arte.~ Parts I-IV. 1903.--The publication of _L’Arte_, suspended

owing to a strike at Rome, has been resumed, and we have received the

first four parts for the current year. Signor Venturi appears to have

finally discovered the authorship of the small bronze doors which close

the reliquary containing St. Peter’s keys in S. Pietro in Vincoli.

These, which have been variously praised as Pollajuolo’s and disparaged

as Filarete’s, are really not Florentine at all, but by the Milanese

Caradosso, working doubtless under Florentine influence. There are

two replicas of the two bas reliefs on the doors in question. Both,

though alike in the general composition, are curiously modified in

some essential particulars which render the subjects unintelligible.

One of these replicas is in the Louvre, where it is attributed to the

Florentine school; the other, in the Victoria and Albert Museum, is

more rashly ascribed to Lorenzo Ghiberti, to whose style it does not

conform at all. ¶ M. Marcel Reymond solves satisfactorily a puzzling

question connected with the tomb of Onofrio Strozzi in the church

of Sta. Trinità in Florence. This has been ascribed on documentary

evidence to Piero di Niccolò, who was supposed to have executed it

in 1418. In 1423 Piero di Niccolò executed at Venice the essentially

gothic monument of Doge Mocenigo, while Donatello himself only arrived

at a conception like that of the Strozzi tomb in his monument of

Giovanni de’ Medici in 1429. On stylistic grounds there can be no

doubt that the Strozzi tomb is nearly a decade later than the Medici

tomb, and yet the documentary evidence has been hitherto allowed as

authoritative. On closer examination, however, this appears to be

quite inconclusive; it is a warning of the necessity for re-examining

documents in the light of the evidence afforded by style. The Strozzi

tomb may be safely considered to be no earlier than the close of the

fourth decade of the century. It is either, M. Reymond thinks, by

Donatello himself, or by some sculptor who carried out a design by

him. ¶ The remains of Pisan domination in Sardinia are the subject of

researches by Signor Dionigi Scano, who has had the good fortune to

discover at Oristano a signed statue by Nino Pisano, together with a

number of bas reliefs in which he traces Pisan influence. The very

crude architectural settings of most of these, however, betray a strain

of northern influence. Far finer than these are the thirteenth-century

lion-head door handles in bronze which he reproduces. ¶ Dr. Seidlitz

returns to the question of Zenale and Buttinone _à propos_ of Signor

Malaguzzi Valeri’s interesting book on Lombard painters. He points

out the impossibility of supposing, as Signor Valeri does, that the

Castelbarco altarpiece in the Brera belongs to the fifties. The

supposed 5 of the date must be a mutilated 8. In the main, however,

he appears to have come independently to similar conclusions about

the respective shares of Buttinone and Zenale in the great Treviglio

altarpiece. He calls attention to the important picture by Zenale (the

Circumcision) in the Louvre overlooked by the Italian writer, but by

far the most interesting suggestion that he makes is that the strangely

imaginative composition of the Adoration in the Ambrosian Library which

Morelli described as an early Bramantino is by Buttinone himself.

It must be admitted that in no other work does that artist display

a freedom and originality of invention comparable to this, but the

likenesses to his peculiarly uncouth style are certainly striking. We

should like to call attention to the fact that most of these ideas were

suggested some years ago by Mr. Herbert Cook in his catalogue to the

Lombard exhibition at the Burlington Fine Arts Club. Both Dr. Seidlitz

and Signor Valeri are acquainted with this work, but neither has had

the courtesy to make full acknowledgement of Mr. Cook’s priority. ¶

Signor Francesco La Grassa-Patti writes on the works of the Della

Robbia in Sicily. The full-length Madonna at Trapani he attributes to

Andrea, though the coarse vigorous forms suggest Giovanni while still

working in his father’s style as more likely. The work is described as

Giovanni’s by Miss Cruttwell. The second is a tondo at Messina (Sta.

Maria della Scala) which Miss Cruttwell describes as a school piece.

This also is attributed by Signor Grassa-Patti to Andrea, while the

one work for which Andrea’s authorship might be claimed, the Madonna

del Cuscino at Palermo, is called a school piece. A fourth work is

the Adoration in the church of S. Niccolò lo Gurgo at Palermo. This

M. Reymond considers to be one of many replicas of the motive. The

author makes no mention of Miss Cruttwell’s exhaustive researches,

although, with the exception of the last, all these works have been

fully and critically treated by her. ¶ Signor Gino Fogolari describes

some wooden sculptures of the twelfth century at Carsoli and Alatri.

Those at the latter place comprise a magnificent Madonna and Child,

one of the finest specimens of the type which was usual in Italian

sculpture of this period, and twelve has reliefs of the doors which

originally closed the Madonna’s shrine. These are of interest as still

possessing some of the original colouring and for their similarity in

technique to the ivory work of the period. ¶ Dr. Romualdi describes an

admirable plan which has been formed for making a complete _catalogue

raisonné_ of all publications on the history of Italian art. The

scheme is to treat the subject by means of regional committees, whose

work will be united and revised by central committees at Florence and

Rome. The importance of such a catalogue in a subject of which the

literature has become so unwieldy cannot be overrated: the scheme

deserves every encouragement. ¶ Signor Venturi replies at length to

Dr. Julius von Schlosser’s views concerning the sketch-book attributed

to Giusto of Padua in the National Gallery of Engravings at Rome,

maintaining the correctness of his original attribution. ¶ Among the

‘miscellanea’ there are descriptions of a fourteenth-century pastoral

staff in the cathedral at Treviso, which Signor Biscaro attributes to a

Venetian goldsmith. He seems scarcely to explain the peculiarly French

character of most of the forms. ¶ Signor Venturi gives a description

with a collotype reproduction of the newly-discovered Jacopo di

Barbari at Naples. It is evidently a striking picture in which the

influence of Antonello da Messina strongly predominates. The two men

represented in it are Luca Pacioli, the celebrated mathematician, and

the artist himself, whose apparent age agrees with that indicated by

the inscription, namely, twenty years. This, since the picture bears

the date 1495, throws a new light on Barbari’s position in Venetian

art. Signor Venturi also reproduces a drawing in the Piancastelli

collection at Rome, which appears to be the original work by Timoteo

Viti of which the head in the Taylorian at Oxford, hitherto thought to

be an original, is a replica. If the reproductions are to be trusted,

there can be no doubt about the superiority of the Roman drawing.

Signor Toesca attributes the coarse picture of the Coronation of the

Virgin in the Naples gallery (there ascribed to Matteo di Giovanni)

to Christoforo Scacco. He also reproduces an Antoniazzo Romano in

the depôt of the Uffizi. Signor Venturi maintains in a vehement but

unconvincing argument his former opinion that the Resurrection which

the Berlin gallery acquired recently from Count Roncalli at Bergamo

is not by Giovanni Bellini, but by Bartolommeo Veneto. ¶ Signor P.

D’Achiardi publishes a picture which is in the house of the cathedral

chaplains at Pisa which has hitherto been supposed to be merely

a school piece of Benozzi Gozzoli’s atelier, but which a recent

restoration has shown to be worthy of the master. It is dated 1470, and

is therefore one of the earliest of his Pisan works. Signor Manceri

adduces a document which shows that Pietro di Bontate, who was supposed

to have assisted Laurana in his works at Palermo, was not an artist but

a stonemason.

~Gazette des Beaux Arts~, June.--M. Henri Cochin begins, in ‘Some

reflections on the Salons,’ a delightful article which is none the

worse for containing very little about the pictures and a good deal

of general speculation about the aims which modern art has proposed

to itself. He regrets that the present moment is one in which the

public has to some extent lost confidence in its own omniscience,

and that the artists are without any clearly formulated ideals to

arouse their devotion or hatred. ¶ Owing to the activity of M. Paul

Meurice, Paris is going to have yet another museum, that of Victor

Hugo. In what was once the poet’s house in the Place Royale, there

have been collected and arranged all kinds of records and mementos of

the poet-politician’s career. Not the least important of these are the

pen-and-ink drawings in which he often made the first record of scenes,

elaborated afterwards in prose or verse. It is to these slight but by

no means insignificant performances that M. Emile Berteaux devotes

a serious study. There was, in fact, a time when Victor Hugo nearly

turned artist; he got so far as to master the processes of etching

and to produce one successful plate. But he realized the danger of

this parergon interfering with his real work and never repeated the

experiment. Nevertheless, to the end of his life he noted ideas or

striking effects in pen-drawings of astonishing force and brilliance,

on which he smudged a melodramatic chiaroscuro with a finger dipped in

ink or coffee. The results cannot be treated as great works of art, but

none the less every one of them proclaims the man of genius; nor are

they unimportant for the understanding of Victor Hugo’s development,

since the sombre mood of his later poems was already foreshadowed in

these hasty improvisations. ¶ M. Moreau-Nélaton describes the genesis

of one of Corot’s late works, the view of Sin-le-noble, now forming

part of the Thomy-Thiéry bequest to the Louvre. M. Denis Roche begins

an account of Dmitri Grigorévitch Lévitski, a little-known Russian

portraitist of the eighteenth century, whose works have decided merit.

A certain influence of contemporary Venetian art is apparent in his

composition, but for the most part he was formed under the influence

of French artists like Tocqué, whom the Empress Elizabeth invited

to Russia in the middle of the century. The portrait of Diderot

by Lévitski, which is reproduced here, shows that his feeling for

character was keener than the average run of West European painters of

his time. It is comparable to a Chardin rather than any of the more

mannered masters of the day.

~Rassegna d’Arte~, June.--Signor Carlo Gamba describes two works of

art in the royal villa of Castello; one, a Florentine picture (a

Nativity) of about 1460, in which the influence of Baldovinetti is

most apparent; the other a polychrome stucco attributed to Agostino

di Duccio. The composition is undoubtedly his, but the type of face

is longer and more accented than is usual with that master. ¶ Signor

Antonio Gobbo points out the great differences between the ancient

methods of mosaic work and those which obtain in the modern factories

at Venice and elsewhere. He insists rightly on the necessity of

doing the mosaic _in situ_, instead of reversed on a cartoon, on the

desirability of a restricted colour-scheme and of a less mechanically

even fabrication of the tesserae. It is interesting to have explained

thus the extreme discomfort one experiences in front of most modern

mosaics. ¶ Signor Annoni describes some remains of fifteenth-century

work in the northern suburb of Milan, the most interesting being

a fresco which he attributes to Borgognone at Garignano. ¶ Signor

Antonio della Rovere endeavours to prove by Morellian methods that a

feeble and late sixteenth-century Venetian picture, representing St.

Jerome, is by none other than Giorgione. As he relies for his proof

on the attribution to Giorgione of the Three Ages in the Pitti, and a

well-known Torbido in the Venice academy, his extraordinary result is

not entirely the fault of the method he employs. ¶ The Antonello da

Messina of Christ at the Column in the museum at Piacenza is reproduced

in this number. It is evidently a work of the highest importance for

our knowledge of this great and still scarcely understood master. In

conception and execution alike it surpasses all the numerous works by

Solario and others that it inspired.

~The Architectural Review~, June, contains an account of Orvieto

cathedral by Mr. Langton Douglas. He effectively disparages

Commendatore Fumi’s theory that the original design for the church

which follows the plan of a Roman basilica was by Arnolfo di Cambio,

and attributes it to ‘some mediocre master of the conservative Roman

school.’ With regard to the façade and the importance of Lorenzo

Maitano’s work at Orvieto he is in accordance with Burckhardt and Bode.

He has done a real service to students in reproducing the two beautiful

designs of the façade by the great Sienese master. In discussing the

sculptures of the façade he shows excellent reasons for assuming, as

was already done by Burckhardt and Bode, that Maitano was the master

sculptor. We are rather surprised to find him however admitting M.

Marcel Reymond’s contention that Andrea da Pontedera also had a hand in

the work, though at a much earlier date than that writer supposed. The

work, we think, is throughout thinner, slighter, and of a more facile

elegance than the known works of Andrea Pisano. Mr. Langton Douglas

tends to exaggerate the indifference of previous writers to Sienese

sculpture: the list of works which he gives, with the remark that they

have ‘entirely escaped the notice of M. Reymond and other writers upon

Tuscan sculpture,’ is more completely given in Bode’s ‘Italienische

Plastik’. ¶ For the rest the _Architectural Review_ is devoted to

contemporary works, among which we may call attention to Mr. Gilbert

Scott’s remarkable designs for the Liverpool Cathedral competition. We

may hope that even now it is not too late for the committee to revise

their verdict and give us the chance of seeing the execution of a

really vital and original gothic design.

The May number of the ~Emporium~ (~Bergamo~) which did not reach us

in time for our last issue contains an interesting account by Signor

Frizzoni of the Tadini gallery at Lovere. The gallery which, with the

immense modern palace that contains it, was left to the remote little

town of Lovere by Count Tadini, has, it must be admitted, a very small

proportion of notable works, but since Signor Frizzoni has rearranged

it, its value for the lover of art is considerably enhanced. It is no

longer necessary to wander through innumerable seventeenth-century

copies in order to pick out the few works that demand serious

attention. And these few are indeed of such excellence that no one

need regret the time spent in coasting up the winding shores of the

Lake of Iseo in order to visit it. By far the most remarkable of these

is the incomparable Jacopo Bellini of the Madonna and Child, perhaps

the finest existing work of this rare master. Besides this there is

Bordone’s greatest masterpiece, a Madonna and Child enthroned with SS.

Christopher and George below--a work of almost Giorgionesque splendour,

though it is needless to say more florid in taste and more agitated

in line. The curtain suspended behind by flying putti reminds one for

a moment of Lotto’s S. Bernardino altarpiece. Another fine picture is

the portrait of a knight by Parmigiano, while in a picture which the

catalogue describes as ‘un bellissimo quadro di Pietro Perugino,’ it is

possible to recognize the forms of an early Veronese master, probably

Domenico Morone himself. We can only hope that the trustees of the

Tadini bequest will carry out Signor Frizzoni’s suggestion and have

this picture, which has suffered from clumsy repainting, restored so

far as possible to its original condition. An early Venetian picture,

falsely signed Cornelio Fiore, and attributed, quite rightly we think,

to Lorenzo Veneziano by the author, and a crudely-painted Pietà, signed

by Girolamo da Treviso, are other original works.

R. E. F.

BOOKS RECEIVED

~Aubrey Beardsley.~ By A. E. Gallatin. Godfrey A. S. Wieners, New

York; Elkin Mathews, London. 20s. net.

~The Arts in Early England.~ By G. Baldwin Brown. Murray. Two

Volumes. 16s. each net.

~Chinese Porcelain (Vol. II.).~ By W. G. Gulland. Chapman and Hall.

10s. 6d.

~The History of Johnny Quae Genus.~ By Thomas Rowlandson. (Reprint.)

Methuen. 3s. 6d

~The Tour of Dr. Syntax.~ By Thomas Rowlandson. (Reprint.) Methuen.

3s. 6d.

~Illustrations of the Book of Job.~ By William Blake. (Reprint.)

Methuen. 3s. 6d.

~Memoirs of the Life of John Mytton.~ By Nimrod. (Reprint.) Methuen.

3s. 6d.

~Stradanus te Florence.~ By J. A. Orbaan. Nijgh and Van Ditman,

Rotterdam, 3s. 6d.

~L’Étude du Blason en Orient.~ By Jacoub Artin Pacha. Quaritch. £3 3s.

~The Vision of Dante~ (Cary’s translation). Newnes. 3s. 6d.

~Tintoretto.~ By J. B. S. Holborn. Bell & Son. 5s. (Great Masters

Series).

~History of the Pewterers’ Company.~ Two Vols. By C. Welch. Blades,

East, and Blades.

~The Norfolk Broads.~ By W. A. Dutt. Methuen. 21s.

~Catalogue of Engraved Portraits.~ Myers and Rogers.

~Il Duomo di San Giovanni.~ By Mospignotti. Alinari (Florence.) 5

lire.

~Fra Filippo Lippi.~ By J. B. Supino. Alinari. 10 lire.

~La Pittura Veneziana.~ By P. Molmenti. Alinari. 10 lire.

~The World’s Children.~ By Mortimer Menpes. A. and C. Black. 20s.

~L’Epopée Flamande.~ By Eugène Baie. J. Lebègue et Cie (Brussels).

3.50 f.

~The Works of Ruskin, Vol. III.~ (Library Edition.) G. Allen. 21s.

~Dante’s Divine Comedy.~ By Leigh Hunt. Newnes. 2s. 6d.

~The Shakespeare Country Illustrated.~ Newnes. 3s.

~Peintres de Jadis et d’Aujourd’hui.~ Perrin et Cie (Paris). 6 francs.

~Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft.~ Berlin.

~Academy Notes.~ Wells Gardner & Co. 1s.

~Royal Academy Pictures.~ Cassel. 7s. 6d.

~Über Otto Oseiner.~ By Johannes Guthman. Hiersemann (Leipzig).

~Catalogue of Japanese Wood Carvings, etc., in the Boston Museum of

Fine Arts.~

MAGAZINES.

~Gazette des Beaux Arts.~ Durendal (Brussels). Onze Kunst (Amsterdam

and Antwerp). L’Art (Paris). La Presse Universelle (Antwerp). L’Arte

(Rome). Rassegna d’Arte. The Architectural Review

A NEW MEZZOTINT

We have received from Messrs. P. and D. Colnaghi & Co. an impression

of a mezzotint by Mr. H. Scott Bridgwater after Raeburn’s portrait of

Mrs. Home Drummond of Blair Drummond, which they have just published.

Raeburn loses nothing in Mr. Bridgwater’s translation, indeed the

mezzotint has greater merit as a work of art than the original picture;

we have seen no modern engraving in mezzotint which we can regard as

its equal. Mr. Bridgwater has produced a work worthy to rank with the

best mezzotint engraving of the eighteenth century--with the work

even of such a master of the art as J. R. Smith; and this portrait of

Mrs. Drummond is very much superior to some of the eighteenth-century

mezzotints for which absurd prices are being paid by people who regard

everything that comes from the eighteenth century with indiscriminating

admiration. We do not believe that anyone of taste and judgement, who

was not blinded by the eighteenth-century glamour, could seriously

maintain that any mezzotint of Valentine Green’s is to be compared as

a work of art with Mr. Bridgwater’s latest work. We have little enough

to boast of in modern artistic production; let us at least recognize

good work when we meet with it; the best work of modern artists has

been done in black and white, and most of the modern works of art that

are really worth collecting are drawings or etchings; to these we can

now add some mezzotints, among which Mr. Bridgwater’s Mrs. Drummond is

perhaps the most notable. The issue is restricted to 350 impressions,

all artist’s proofs.

❧ CORRESPONDENCE ❧

MR. JULIUS WERNHER’S TITIAN

~Sir~,

One of your subscribers in Venice has drawn my attention to an article

in your magazine (April number, p. 185), written by Mr. Herbert Cook,

and illustrating a magnificent portrait by Titian, in the possession

of Mr. Julius Wernher. Your subscriber tells me that similarly

insufficiently described Italian portraits are not uncommon in English

private collections, though, of course, not through the fault of the

collectors, as it is impossible to obtain sufficient information from

printed books only. We here in Venice are naturally better off, and

the public and private archives and the manuscripts in the libraries

offer much material to one who is experienced to handle it, and yield

in most cases sufficient information. So your subscriber has asked me

to show in the case of this Giacomo Doria what we can achieve here.

¶ To the student of palaeography it is not a matter of opinion, but

of certainty, that the inscription reads: Giacomo Doria _quondam_

Agostini, that means Giacomo Doria, son of the late Agostino. The

dress is not the habit of an Augustinian friar. In the famous concert

by Giorgione, in the Palazzo Pitti, the ecclesiastic playing the

clavi-cembalo is an Augustinian; he is clean shaven, has the large

tonsure, and wears a mozetta. It is impossible to decide by looking at

the reproduction alone whether Giacomo wears Venetian or Genoese dress,

everything being entirely black. According to Crollalanza’s ‘Dizionario

storico-blasonico,’ there were two families of the name of Doria--one

in Genoa, and one in the Veneto. Mr. Cook has not been able to decide

to which branch Giacomo belonged. ¶ Now Signor Comm. Carlo dei Conti

Bullo, at Venice, has a private archive containing many important

documents concerning the history of the town of Chioggia. These

documents show that the war between Venice and Genoa, called the war of

Chioggia, led to the settlement of several important Genoese families

in Chioggia. Amongst these are mentioned the Bonivento, the Cibo, the

Gandolfo and the Doria. ¶ The Chioggia branch of the Doria family

still exists; its present head is Signor Giovanni Battista Doria, a

draughtsman in the Genio Civile in Venice. This gentleman has in his

possession a genealogical tree, compiled and signed by two canons of

the cathedral of Chioggia, which proves his descent from Victor, son of

Giovanni, born in the year 1480, and founder of the Chioggia branch.

But in this tree no Giacomo di Agostino occurs. Now Signor Doria has

another tree, although not a signed one, which shows how Victor di

Giovanni is attached to the main trunk of the family in Genoa. In this

tree the looked-for Giacomo di Agostino occurs; he is therefore a

Genoese and not a Venetian. ¶ We give here the interesting part of this

tree:

Opicino Doria.

|

Bartolomeo, 1378.

|

Giovanni, 1398.

|

Domenico Bartolomeo, 1442.

|

+---------------------+--------------------+

| | |

Giovanni. Agostino, 1466. Giacomo

| | (_linea estinta_).

| |

+--------+----------+ +----------------------+

| | | | |

Bartolo. Vettor, Nicolò, ~Giacomo~. Giov. Battista.

1480, Chioggia. | Doge, 1528.

Chioggia. |

+------------------------+

| |

Agostino, Nicolò,

Doge, 1579 Doge, 1579.

We see from this tree that Giacomo was a man of eminence, a brother

of a doge, and the father of two doges of the republic of Genoa. His

personality is of particular interest to the Germans, as his nearest

relations play an important part in Schiller’s great tragedy, ‘The

Conspiracy of Fiesco.’ His cousins Vettor and Nicolò settled in

Chioggia, and, probably on the occasion of a visit to his relatives,

Titian painted his portrait. Signor Doria is not certain as to the

signification of the dates occurring in this tree, probably they mean

the year of birth. Mr. Cook puts the portrait about the year 1523, but

I am afraid it will have to be put to a considerably later date. ¶

This is all we can do in Venice; for further information about Giacomo

one would have to search the documents in the archives of Genoa.

¶ Curiously enough, Mr. Cook has not a word to say about the arms

which one can faintly recognize in the upper left-hand corner of the

reproduction. I give below the arms of the Genoese Dorias, and those

of the Dorias of Chioggia. ¶ From what I am able to make out, the arms

represented on the picture are the Genoese arms. I shall be happy to

search for arms occurring on Italian portraits in English collections,

and collect information about the persons represented, if printed books

fail to give the necessary help.

Yours truly,

~Giovanni De Pellegrini~.

Studio Araldico, Campo San Maurizio,

Venice.

[Illustration:

1 2

3 4

No. 1 is the shield of the Dorias of Genoa, taken from ‘Il Annuario

della Nobiltà Italiana.’

Nos. 2, 3, 4 are shields of the Dorias of Chioggia; No. 2 is carved on

a house in the _calle di S. Nicolò_ at Chioggia; No. 3 is carved

in the town hall of Chioggia and on a house on the Canal Lombardo;

No. 4 is carved in marble on a chimney of the _casa Doria_ at S.

Andrea. All three shields are given in the Ravagnan MS. belonging to

the municipality of Chioggia.]

[Illustration: Walker & Cockerell Ph. Sc.

The Great Executioner, from the mezzotint by Prince Rupert after

Spagnoletto, in the collection of His Majesty the King.]

THE LOWESTOFT PORCELAIN FACTORY, AND THE CHINESE PORCELAIN MADE FOR THE

EUROPEAN MARKET DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY[86]

❧ WRITTEN BY L. SOLON ❧

Mr. W. Chaffers is responsible for the spread of a theory regarding

the Lowestoft factory and its productions, which, after it had been

provisionally endorsed by the majority of collectors, turned out to

be one of the worst mystifications recorded in ceramic history. It

must be conceded, in mitigation of the offence, that seldom had such

a crop of apparently admissible evidence turned up to substantiate

an ill-grounded belief. ¶ On a visit that the author of ‘Marks and

Monograms,’ in quest of information, paid to the town of Lowestoft,

he came across numerous pieces of porcelain of very distinctive

character, bearing the crest or initials of the old families in which

they had long been preserved, and all of which were said by their

possessors to have been made in the local factory that existed at

one time. He concluded, naturally enough, that he was on the way

to the discovery of a most important and so far unsuspected centre

of production--a too-hasty conclusion that a prejudiced course of

investigation, unfortunately, came to strengthen. ¶ The ware that he

soon felt himself warranted to call ‘Lowestoft porcelain’ bore, it

is true, decorations of European design, but was no other than the

inferior oriental china that the East India companies threw wholesale

upon the market during the eighteenth century. In building up his lame

theory Chaffers had neglected to take into consideration a few points

of primary importance. ¶ All the ancient inhabitants of the town who

could remember anything of the extinct factory agreed in saying that

it was a small place, with only one biscuit oven and one enamelling

kiln, and that at the best of times the number of persons it employed

did not exceed seventy. Now, if the inquirer had not willingly lost

sight of the fact that the very same kind of porcelain as that of

which he was endeavouring to localize the origin was commonly found in

every country which had had commercial intercourse with the east, not

only in Europe, but also in America--where Boston and Salem were the

centres of a large importation trade--and that many ancient families

inhabiting the sea-port towns of those countries boast the possession

of tea or dinner services of similar china, emblazoned with the arms

or inscribed with the initials of an ancestor who had obtained them

from the East Indies; if he had not conveniently forgotten that odd

specimens of the ware are found in every collection and curiosity shop

at home and abroad, then he might have suspected that such a colossal

supply could only have come from a manufacturing centre of amazing

magnitude, and not from a small factory at work for a few years on the

coast of England. He also failed to observe that the paste of the china

was manifestly of oriental character, and that there is no record of

hard porcelain having ever been made at Lowestoft. ¶ On the other hand,

a coarse kind of soft china, usually painted in underglaze blue, has

been traced as the undeniable product of the Lowestoft factory, and

a sufficient number of examples of that class can now be produced to

dispel any doubt as to the precise description of the ware that was

made there, and to put an end to all controversy. ¶ To the facility

that the situation of Lowestoft offered for trading with Holland by

way of Yarmouth must be attributed the existence of a petty company

of merchants who joined to the importation of Delft-faïence the

manufacture, on a small scale, of a pottery of the same description.

White and blue faïence pieces, inscribed with local names and dated

as early as 1755, seem to indicate that the pottery-works were in

operation about that time. The making of soft china was added shortly

afterwards. A heap of discarded plaster moulds was unearthed from

the site of the old works in 1902; it included moulds for embossed

sauce-boats and plain globular teapots; upon one of these latter, the

date 1762 was incised in the plaster. The globular tea-pot made in

that mould is reproduced on the accompanying plate. In the same year a

queer, nine-sided ink-pot was manufactured; it bears a pseudo-Chinese

ornamentation in underglaze blue, with the monogram ‘R.B. 1762.’ Robert

Browne, for whom the piece was painted and inscribed, was the head of

the firm till 1771. This unimpeachable testimony of the true style

of the Lowestoft fabrication is now in the possession of Mr. Arthur

Crisps, in whose collection are preserved six other ink-pots of the

same shape, together with many other genuine pieces, decorated in the

same manner, and bearing dates ranging from 1762 to 1782. Among these

may be mentioned a tea service which has the name ‘Eliza^{th} Buckle,’

and the date 1768, painted in blue. It was executed by Robert Allen, a

nephew of the worthy dame, who was still serving his apprenticeship,

but in after times became the manager of the works. Also a number of

small articles bearing the words ‘A trifle from Lowestoft’ or ‘A trifle

from Yarmouth.’ None of these specimens have anything in common with

the so-called Lowestoft china. ¶ A family tradition discloses the way

in which porcelain making was introduced at Lowestoft. It is reported

that Robert Browne, anxious to master a process unknown to him and

from which he expected great results, repaired to London disguised as

a workman, and in that capacity took employment in one of the china

factories, either Bow or Chelsea. The discipline of former years had

somewhat relaxed in these establishments, and he had no difficulty

in worming out from one of the foremen, in exchange for adequate

remuneration, the secret of the mixture, with instructions about

practical manipulations. The object he had in view appears to have been

most easily attained; scarcely three weeks had elapsed when he returned

to his own works, provided with sufficient information to start

china-making at once, without calling any outsider to his assistance.

It is needless to observe that what he learned in this manner did not

put him in the position of producing hard porcelain, and that he could

not have made any on this basis. ¶ As it stands now the history of

the Lowestoft works is a short one to tell. A better knowledge of the

exact nature of the owners’ business might have been obtained from an

examination of the papers and account books of the old firm; they may

or may not be still in existence; at any rate, their contents have

never been investigated. We know very little besides the fact that

fritt porcelain was made for the first time in 1762, and that the

factory was closed in 1803. This article will, however, have fulfilled

its purpose if it establishes, once for all, not so much what was the

true Lowestoft ware, but what it was not. One may well wonder how it

came to pass that the name of the obscure Lowestoft factory could ever

have been mentioned in connection with a particular ware which, in

every country where the unmistakable specimens of it are met with in

large quantities, is recognized as being of oriental provenance. As

no conjecture has so far been advanced in answer to that query I will

venture to present a not improbable solution of the problem.

[Illustration: LOWESTOFT PORCELAIN TEAPOT OF SOFT PASTE

IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. GEORGE HARDING]

[Illustration: SMALL PLATE PAINTED IN UNDERGLAZE BLUE, WITH A VIEW OF

LOWESTOFT CHURCH

FRANKS COLL. B.M.]

[Illustration: HARD PORCELAIN TEAPOT, MADE AND DECORATED IN CHINA, BUT

MARKED ‘ALLEN, LOWESTOFT’; IN THE VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM]

That they never manufactured such a porcelain at Lowestoft has no

longer to be demonstrated; it remains to be proved that they sold

it, and that the misconception as to its origin arose from no other

cause. We must remember, in the first instance, that the proprietors of

the works were also ship-owners, conducting a small trade with Holland.

They exported English clays and raw materials for the use of the Delft

potters, and brought back, in return, articles of Dutch faïence,

often painted with names and inscriptions, for which they accepted

commissions from private customers. We know, next, that Rotterdam

was the centre of the mighty commerce carried on between Holland and

China. It may, then, be fairly assumed that while engaged in the

trade of common Delft ware, they conceived the idea of entering into

communication with the wholesale importers of Chinese porcelain from

whom they could purchase large supplies, and establishing in England a

highly-remunerative branch of business by underselling the East India

company. ¶ It was customary with the Dutch firms to send over to their

foreign settlements shapes and designs obtained from European sources,

to be reproduced by native hands. Models from Dresden, Sèvres, and even

from Leeds or the Staffordshire potteries, were constantly copied in

oriental porcelain. The Lowestoft people did what all other merchants

had done before them, and through the same channel forwarded to China

the designs of coats-of-arms, English mottoes, and initials that were

to be painted on the porcelain they had undertaken to supply. In the

Henry Willett collection is an armorial plate decorated in the usual

Indo-European style, and inscribed, at the back, with its certificate

of origin: CANTON ~IN~ CHINA 24th Jan. 1791. Commissions of that kind

were received from the leading families of the neighbourhood and duly

executed; hence the number of local patronymics that Chaffers noticed

on the porcelain in the possession of many inhabitants of the town,

who honestly believed that it had been made by the very men from whom

it had been purchased. ¶ In 1770 the business had taken sufficient

extension to induce the partners to open a warehouse in Queen Street,

Cheapside. Their agent, Clark Dunford, inserted in the London papers

an announcement in which he advertised ‘a large selection of Lowestoft

china.’ We possess no information as to what may have been the exact

description of the goods advertised under that name, but we may safely

surmise that it was something superior to ‘A trifle from Lowestoft’

or any of the articles we know to have been the staple production of

the works. It seems that a more attractive exhibition might have been

formed in the show-room by a stock of Chinese porcelain imported by

the Lowestoft company. ¶ I feel convinced that conclusive proofs of

this elucidation of the Lowestoft puzzle will one day come to light;

in the meantime, it cannot be denied that it is strongly supported

by the following facts: It is recorded, on good authority, that the

ruin of the company was caused by the wreck of one of their vessels

carrying a cargo of porcelain, and the burning, by the French army,

of the warehouse they had established at Rotterdam. The idea that

the enormous amount of ware required to load a vessel and to fill

a large warehouse in Rotterdam, not to speak of the one in London,

could have been supplied by a one-oven factory, is too ludicrous to be

entertained for one moment, and it may be dismissed without further

comment. ¶ It has been suggested that the Lowestoft painters may have

decorated ware imported from China in the white. By reason of the

ubiquity of the porcelain decorated in the accredited style, and the

small number of hands employed at the factory, such a suggestion is

equally untenable. A hard porcelain teapot, unmistakably painted by a

Chinese hand, which is marked ‘Allen, Lowestoft,’ is reproduced on the

opposite page. Robert Allen was manager of the works up to the last.

When they closed he set up a small china shop in the town, decorating

himself part of the articles he sold. His supply was drawn from various

sources, including oriental. Far from being deceived by such misleading

testimonies, we may only infer from this tea-pot that the dealer was

wont to affix his name to all that passed through his hands, even upon

such pieces as had been decorated abroad. This curious specimen is now

in the Victoria and Albert museum. ¶ The so-called Lowestoft style is

characterized by sprays and garlands of flowers, in which two peculiar

pink and purple colours play a conspicuous part, and by scalloped

borders of the scale or trellis patterns. Similar designs appear on

the early china and earthenware of Staffordshire. The last partisans

of the Chaffers theory--for all the offshoots of the mystification

have not yet been fully eradicated--believe that such pieces afford

irrefutable examples of the Lowestoft original production. This is

an error that must be discarded with the others. To imitate Chinese

decoration has always been the golden rule of the English potter; just

as he had reproduced the fine Nankin porcelain, he also copied the

quasi-European ware manufactured for exportation by the East India

company, and this all the more readily that it could be easily and

cheaply produced. The well-known scale borders and the sprays of pink

and purple roses occur frequently on the early china of Minton, Spode

and other makers. These designs were obviously taken from the Chinese

importations, and did not originate in the Potteries any more than

they originated at Lowestoft. ¶ From the few authenticated specimens

that have come under the collector’s notice we gather that the paste

of the genuine Lowestoft porcelain is coarse, semi-opaque, and of a

dingy white; the glaze is speckled with bubbles and minute black spots,

which denote a rather imperfect manufacture. It is poorly decorated,

and under these conditions we understand that it was not preciously

preserved in the households; at all events, it has now become very

rare. No mark was ever used at the factory, and the specific character

of the ware is not sufficiently pronounced to allow us to use such

undoubted examples as we possess as a means of identifying those which

may have escaped destruction.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF THE EMPRESS ISABELLA BY TIZIANO VECELLIO; IN

THE PRADO MUSEUM, MADRID.]

TITIAN’S PORTRAIT OF THE EMPRESS ISABELLA

❧ WRITTEN BY GEORG GRONAU[87] ❧

About the middle of the year 1543, somewhere between June 20 and 25, a

meeting of Paul III and Charles V was arranged at Busseto between Parma

and Cremona with a view to the settlement of the political differences

outstanding at that date. In the train of the pope came Titian, who

on every occasion when the emperor set foot on Italian soil took the

opportunity of paying his addresses to the monarch. On this occasion,

too, the emperor had a commission for him; Titian was instructed to

paint a portrait of the dead empress. From Aretino’s letters--which,

apart from their personal fascination which no reader of them is

able to resist, are second to none as a source of information on the

life of the great painter--a few further details of the incident are

to be gleaned, for some days later Aretino, in the company of Duke

Guidobaldo of Urbino and of the Venetian ambassadors, met the emperor

near Peschiera in the course of his journey to Germany. It was one

of the red letter days in Messer Pietro’s life, and, fulfilled with

vain-glory, he was never tired of talking of the marked consideration

wherewith, if his chronicle is to be trusted, the emperor received him.

On this occasion, when portraiture became the topic of conversation,

Charles referred to the portrait of his wife that he had given to

Titian at Busseto, and told Aretino to tell his godfather that it was

a very good likeness, though the work of a painter of small merit.[88]

From Aretino’s letters we glean further particulars. In October 1544

he addresses a letter to the emperor wherein he extols the completed

picture in such high-flown phrases as to baffle translation.[89] ‘In

defiance of Death, he has called her back to life by the inspiration

of his colours, so that God possesses her for the first, Charles for

the second time.’ Although his words sound as if he were speaking of a

finished picture, Titian, it would appear, did not dispatch the picture

to the emperor until about a year later. In October 1545 he informed

the monarch that he had handed the two portraits at which he had been

working with all the diligence of which he was capable, over to Mendoza

to be forwarded.[90] A few months later he was writing again from Rome,

whither he had gone at the bidding of the Farnesi, to say that he had

delivered his own portrait of the empress, ‘together with the other

which had been given to me to copy,’ to Don Diego.[91] And he adds: ‘If

I hear that it finds favour I shall feel the greatest satisfaction; but

in the contrary event, I should prefer to improve it in such a manner

as to content your majesty if our Lord God vouchsafes me to be able to

come to bring a picture of Venus by me,’ etc. ¶ A little more than two

years later Titian arrived at Augsburg at the summons of the emperor,

who on this occasion wished once again to see himself portrayed by

his favourite painter, this time as the conqueror of the Protestant

princes, uplifted and on horseback. It involved a long sojourn.

Towards the end of it, on September 1, 1548, Titian wrote to Granvella

to explain his prospects to him, and in this letter enumerates the

pictures he had done for the emperor, among them ‘The empress alone

and the one of the emperor and empress.’ Here a little difficulty

arises. Has Titian then painted a single portrait of the empress on two

occasions, one between 1543 and 1545, the other in 1548? Or, on the

other hand, is the work referred to in this letter one and the same

with the earlier portrait, and did Titian, as a matter of fact, work

it up again? It is impossible to speak with any degree of certainty,

but as the Spanish inventories always speak of one portrait only we may

assume that the latter hypothesis is the more likely to be correct. ¶

While the double portrait has been lost, the picture of the empress

has found a place in that incomparable collection of Titian’s works

which the Prado gallery in Madrid comprises. It is one of Titian’s

most important works; perhaps, indeed, it takes the first place among

his portraits of women. Never is his taste more exquisite than here.

Its courtly splendour strikes one as a matter of course. In the midst

of glorious colour--red and white--the pale, somewhat colourless

face stands out framed by its fair reddish hair; the hand clasps a

breviary. A window to the right opens on a landscape scene, one of

those glimpses of Nature such as Titian had the secret of conjuring

up with his brush with such incomparable art. No one looking at the

picture would ever be able to suspect how it was painted; that its

painter had never seen his model with his own eyes. It was no uncommon

thing, by the way, for Titian to paint the portraits of people whom he

did not even know by sight. He was proud of his skill of being able to

recognize the characteristic traits of a man or woman even from another

artist’s work.[92] ¶We can, however, only realize the work of genius

for which this portrait of Isabella stands when we compare it with the

picture with which the emperor had furnished him, that portrait by

‘a painter of small merit.’ The picture itself has, it is true, been

wholly lost, but a copy of it has recently come to light in Florence,

and is reproduced in these pages for the first time. That we are not

mistaken in assuming it to be a replica of the original from which

Titian worked will be proved by the complete coincidence of all the

principal characteristics of the picture in Madrid with the one before

us. In the Florentine picture the empress is wearing a black robe with

white puffed sleeves, a great deal of jewelry, and is holding a spray

of foliage in her hand. The picture is, for the most part, sombre in

tone, and the face stands out most effectively in its pallor. It has

that diaphanous whiteness noticeable in anæmic people. The dull reddish

hair frames it heavily. The background is a grey green; in a niche,

over which a dull red curtain is draped, the symbol of the exalted

rank of the sitter, the imperial crown, is represented. To judge from

its style this picture dates back to a Flemish master, though, with

the somewhat scanty inherent evidence available, it is impossible to

suggest the name of any particular artist. ¶ The picture originates

from Bologna, where it was in the possession of the Pepoli family. That

in itself is interesting, for we know that Isabella’s sister, Beatrice,

duchess of Savoy, had taken up her quarters in the Pepoli palace during

the rejoicings in 1530 in celebration of Charles V’s coronation, and

that it was the scene of a brilliant ball which the emperor honoured

with his presence. It would be well within the bounds of possibility,

therefore, that the portrait of the empress, who had been prevented

(she had been confined a short time previously) from coming to Bologna,

had passed into possession of the Pepoli as a present at first hand,

either from the emperor or from the duchess. A replica, with a few

trivial distinctions, of the picture is entered in the inventory of

the house of Farnese (about 1680). In this the left hand is resting on

the back of the chair.[93]

[Illustration: COPY OF THE PORTRAIT OF THE EMPRESS ISABELLA FROM WHICH

TITIAN PAINTED THE PORTRAIT NOW IN THE PRADO GALLERY, MADRID; IN A

PRIVATE COLLECTION AT FLORENCE]

The Florentine picture has undoubtedly a conspicuous iconographic

importance as the most authentic portrait of the woman who shared the

throne of Charles V. At the same time, its value from the standpoint

of the history of art is immeasurably greater, inasmuch as it affords

us a most interesting insight into Titian’s methods. This picture

should be compared with the painting in Madrid, their points of

variance carefully considered with the question why the master omitted

this or added that. It is as though in this picture we were watching

him at work with our very eyes. Especially noteworthy is the fact

that the imperial crown is not repeated. An artist whose work lacks

character needs a symbol as an outward and visible sign-post. One,

on the contrary, who knows how to express dignity in the bearing of

his sitter, can dispense with these commonplaces. Titian was, of

course, compelled to adopt the outline of the features, the colouring

of the complexion and of the hair. He even adopted the pose in its

main outlines. On the other hand he changed the colour of the dress

and the pose of the hands; the pose of the Florentine picture is

conventional and meaningless. By adding the book of hours he gains a

signal detail of characterization, for the empress was very devout.

If in the Flemish picture there is a certain note of contrast brought

out by the sombre dress and the costly jewels, in Titian’s picture

these ornaments blend with the costly draperies, glowing in the

richest colours which robe the empress here. More important still is

the fact that the antithesis is toned down thereby, and something

of life comes into the pale face by reason of the warm red robe,

while in the other it has a cold and lifeless tone, intensified by

the dead black garment. And here the little glimpse of landscape

which Titian introduces in the right-hand half of the picture gains

a special significance of its own. It deflects the eye a little,

well-nigh without arousing one’s consciousness that it is so doing;

it adds a nuance of restfulness and colour that has as subtle and

pleasing an effect as that of a Gobelin, although the landscape is

convincingly realistic, instinct with that realism that comprises in

its quintessence all the elements of colour and of form, and yet is

the abstraction of the characteristics of a definite locality. This,

comparatively speaking, small patch (considered as a patch of colour

within the picture as a whole) prevents the figure from standing out

in too hard relief from the dim-lit background and adds that very

essential element of atmosphere to give life to the picture. ¶ It is

worth noting that not until a, comparatively speaking, later period did

Titian make use of a landscape background. All his earlier portraits

show a neutral tone for the background. One finds it for the first

time, in so far as the number of Titian’s paintings known to us at

present justifies an expression of opinion, in the portrait of the

duchess of Urbino of 1537. Thenceforward Titian made very frequent use

of this subtle and life-giving device of his art. The portrait of Count

Porcia in the Brera gallery in Milan, the little Strozzi in Berlin, the

picture of Charles V in Munich are examples of it. Here the element

which henceforward is inseparable from courtly portraiture is created.

Rubens and Vandyke, above all, follow in the footsteps of the Venetian,

whose influence might be traced down to modern times. ¶ Put the Flemish

portrait by the side of Titian’s; it is, we see, the self-same picture

in its main outlines, and yet with what fundamental distinctions. On

the one hand the work of a ‘trifling brush’ (the emperor’s own words,

according to Aretino) and on the other the conscious feat of a prince

of painters. ¶ Nothing within the scope of artistic consideration can

afford so much incitement and pleasure as to force one’s way into the

work of the really great. For what they did is not merely a delight to

the beholder; it remains an enduring exemplar for the worker. From this

sole instance it becomes manifest how a thing insignificant in itself

may suffice to force the fruits of genius. Thus an Italian novel gives

birth to one of Shakespeare’s dramas, thus the puppet play of Doctor

Faust to Goethe’s sublimest work.

A NEWLY DISCOVERED PORTRAIT DRAWING BY DÜRER

❧ WRITTEN BY CAMPBELL DODGSON ❧

The British museum, thanks to a timely hint from a friend, has recently

acquired a portrait drawing of considerable interest and unknown to

students of the present generation. It represents a middle-aged woman,

plain-featured and of a short, thick-set figure, seated, with clasped

hands, drawn in three-quarter face and looking to the left. The sitter

is plainly dressed, without a trace of ornament on the materials of

her clothing; she wears a ring on the first finger of her left hand,

and the artist has sketched very slightly a double or triple chain

with pendants hanging from her neck and reaching across her bodice

nearly to the waist. ¶ The portrait, which measures 16½ by 12⅜ ins.

(42 by 31·5 centimetres), is lightly drawn in black chalk on a green

prepared ground. The watermark of the paper is the large high crown

surmounted by a cross (Hausmann, No. 4). A border line, which can be

traced round three sides of the drawing, near the edge, is clearly a

modern addition, being drawn with lead pencil. The portrait itself

has entirely escaped retouching, and the whole sheet is in good

preservation, except in a few places where the surface has been rubbed

or stained; a severe crease across the lower right-hand corner of the

paper has caused the prepared surface to crack. ¶ In the left-hand

lower corner is the collector’s mark of Sir Thomas Lawrence, Fagan,

507 (1), stamped blind, and in the corresponding corner to the right

is the initial C, also stamped blind, which belonged, according to

Fagan (No. 72), to Captain William Coningham. The Lawrence stamp, in

this form, was affixed to the drawings by Samuel Woodburn after he had

purchased them in 1835. Coningham, too, had dealings with Woodburn;

it may be conjectured that he purchased the present drawing from

that dealer, and that it was included in the collection of drawings

by old masters which Coningham sold to Messrs. Colnaghi in 1846. That

would account for the absence of any mention of this drawing in the

catalogue of the Woodburn sale in June 1860, when the bulk of the

Lawrence drawings were finally dispersed. The drawing had been for a

long period in private hands prior to its purchase by the trustees of

the British museum in July of the present year, and had not appeared

in the sale-room. ¶ After so much has been said about externals, it

is time to look more closely at the drawing itself, which can only be

reproduced, at present, on a greatly reduced scale, though it is hoped

that an opportunity may present itself later on of issuing a full-sized

reproduction in facsimile.

[Illustration: LONDON STEREO CO.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY, BY ALBRECHT DÜRER; IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM]

I have said nothing, so far, about the authorship of the drawing.

The name of Holbein had been mentioned, but from the moment in which

I first set eyes on it I had scarcely a doubt that the draughtsman

was Dürer. No other artist of that date, so far as I remember, drew

portraits in chalk on a green ground. No suspicion of forgery or fraud

could be seriously entertained, and any momentary hesitation suggested

by the formation of the eyes, the weak drawing of the left hand (an

undeniable blemish), or the lack of energy in the shading of the

costume, was soon dispelled by comparison with other drawings by Dürer

on a similar scale and also on green paper, the authenticity of which

has never been questioned. The impression suggested by the technique of

the drawing itself was confirmed by an examination of the inscription

and date, which are written in indian ink, and are indisputably

genuine. Every letter is characteristic of Dürer’s handwriting; the

inscription may be compared especially with the long note of the same

date on a drawing in the Vienna Hofmuseum (Lippmann, 423), in which

Dürer has recorded a curious dream that he had in the early summer of

1525. The figures of the date agree closely with those on the Vienna

drawing, and still more strikingly with those on a drawing in Mr.

Heseltine’s collection (Lippmann, 172), the portrait of a young lady

in a hat, with a dog on her lap, not signed, but dated 1525, also in

indian ink. Mr. Heseltine’s portrait is that of a much more attractive

person; it is also more carefully finished than the drawing which has

recently come to light: but the two have much in common, even to the

weak drawing of the left hand and the curious break in the outline of

the upper eyelid of the left eye. The pose of the two figures is the

same; the treatment of the clothes, both in outline and in shading,

is curiously similar. The new portrait may also be compared with two

large drawings on green paper already in the British museum: the

portrait of Dürer’s wife, seriously damaged, of 1522 (Lippmann, 291),

and the much more finished and masterly likeness of Henry Parker,

Lord Morley (Lippmann, 87), drawn on the occasion of his visit to

Nuremberg in 1523[94] as a special envoy sent to confer the order of

the Garter on the Archduke Ferdinand. The ground of the latter drawing

is of a bluer tint, but the green of Mr. Heseltine’s drawing and of

the portrait of Agnes Dürer is almost identical with that of the new

drawing in the British museum. ¶ The next question which arose when

the authorship of the drawing was established to my own, and, I may

add, to Mr. Colvin’s satisfaction, was the interpretation of the line

of Dürer’s handwriting, ‘1525 Casmirs schwest^r fraw margret.’ No

Casimir was known to me among the circle of Dürer’s friends or patrons,

but I was not long in finding a solution which seems to meet all the

requirements of the case. The name Casimir at once suggested the royal

house of Poland; a reference to the first work on Polish history that

lay at hand provided me with the name of a connexion of that family

whose residence was not far away from Nuremberg. This was Casimir,

margrave of Culmbach (1481-1527), eldest son of the Margrave Frederick

of Brandenburg-Ansbach and Bayreuth (1460-1536) by his marriage with

Sophia, daughter of Casimir III of Poland. Frederick, being of feeble

intellect, was deposed in 1515 by his sons and confined in the castle

of Plassenburg; Casimir thereupon ruled over the greater part of the

Franconian possessions of the house of Hohenzollern. He was a soldier

with mediaeval ideas, and a steadfast Catholic, in opposition to

his brother George of Bayreuth, who favoured the reformers; he died

on September 21, 1527, at Ofen, while holding a high command under

Ferdinand in the Hungarian war, and was buried, like most of his

family, in the abbey church at Heilsbronn. The name of his eldest

sister was Margaret; she was born in January 1483, and died, unmarried,

in 1532. I suggest, then, that this prince and princess, both living

in 1525, are the Casimir and Margaret of Dürer’s note. The portrait

may well be that of a woman of forty-two, though we might guess her

to be older. There is nothing unusual in the title ‘Frau Margret’

being applied to a lady of princely rank; we may compare the titles

‘the Lady Mary,’ ‘the Lady Elizabeth,’ by which the princesses of

our own royal house of Tudor were known at the same period. I can

discover no other portrait of Margaret of Brandenburg-Ansbach, except

as one of a group of the daughters of the Margravine Sophia on a

wing of an altarpiece at Heilsbronn[95]; here, however, the kneeling

princesses are all painted to one pattern, and at so early an age that

no comparison of the features is possible. Dürer’s note is thus the

only ground for believing that the newly acquired portrait is that of

a Hohenzollern princess. ¶ I was not previously aware that Dürer had

enjoyed the patronage of any member of that illustrious family, but

I ascertained in the course of the present investigation that there

is reason to think that he had had direct relations with the Margrave

Casimir himself. Dr. Julius Meyer[96] describes a lost votive picture

by Dürer, which represented the body of our Saviour being anointed

for burial, with Susanna, wife of Casimir, kneeling in adoration, and

Casimir himself standing at her right hand. The picture is only known

by a full description in a MS. inventory written in 1768 by its then

owner, Hofrath Christian Friedrich von Knebel (1728-1805), at Ansbach.

It was signed and dated 1518 in gold. It was painted, therefore, in

the year of Casimir’s marriage with Susanna (1502-1543), daughter of

Duke Albert III of Bavaria by his marriage with Kunigunda of Austria,

sister of the Emperor Maximilian I. Susanna is described by Knebel

as ‘Dürer’s great protectress’; it is reasonable to suppose, at any

rate, that the close relations in which he stood at this time with

the emperor, her uncle, may have led to his appointment to paint the

portrait of the niece. ¶ I cannot resist the conjecture--it is hardly

more--that the portrait in Mr. Heseltine’s collection was done at the

same time, and represents another member of the Margrave Casimir’s

family, in all probability his wife, Susanna of Bavaria. The lady

cannot be another of his sisters, the youngest of whom, Barbara, was

at this time thirty, while the only other survivors, Sophia and Anna,

were forty and thirty-eight respectively, and already married.[97]

Susanna, on the other hand, was twenty-three, and the portrait may

well stand for a lady of that age. She appears to have been fond of

dogs, for a large dog lay before her in Knebel’s picture. Medals of

the years 1522, 1525 and 1527 respectively, containing portraits of

this princess, are reproduced in ‘Schaumünzen des Hauses Hohenzollern,’

Berlin, 1901 (Nos. 522-524). No. 524, in which she is represented in a

wide hat, in three-quarter face to the right, agrees best with Dürer’s

drawing, but the features are far less pleasing, and Dürer was not wont

to flatter his sitters. In 1528, a year after Casimir’s death, his

widow married Otto Heinrich, of Neuburg, count (afterwards elector)

palatine. Two medals of the year 1529, by Peter Flötner and Hans

Daucher, representing Susanna in profile, are preserved in the Munich

and Vienna cabinets respectively.[98] Both are superior as works of art

to the earlier portraits reproduced among the Hohenzollern medals, and

they tend, I think, to confirm, if not to prove, my hypothesis. ¶ Mr.

Heseltine’s drawing formerly had an inscription which doubtless gave

the name of the person represented. Unfortunately some vandal has cut

the paper down, and his scissors have only left the extreme ends of

two letters, which may be seen above the date, 1525, written, exactly

as on the British museum drawing, with indian ink. Dr. Lippmann, in

his note on No. 172, suggests that the lady was an Englishwoman and

the drawing a counterpart to the portrait of Morley. This entirely

gratuitous assumption compels him to suppose that the date was added by

a later hand, and that the drawing was really made a few years earlier

than 1525. The authentic inscription and date on the portrait of ‘Fraw

Margret’ dispose, I think, of that suggestion. ¶ The new portrait,

though not one of the finest class of Dürer drawings, is a welcome

addition to the London collection, which is already unusually rich in

large portrait-heads of the master’s later years.

[Illustration: LONDON STEREO CO.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY, BY ALBRECHT DÜRER; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. J. P.

HESELTINE]

LATER NINETEENTH-CENTURY BOOK ILLUSTRATIONS

❧ WRITTEN BY JOSEPH PENNELL ❧

ARTICLE I

Throughout the history of art, or rather the history of collecting,

there has always been, in conjunction with the desire to collect, a

hesitancy in collecting just those things which are ever with us and

about which we know the most. Though tremendously characteristic of our

age, this hesitancy is by no means confined to it. The Japanese print

was ever despised in Japan, and still is, except from its pecuniary

point of view, by that grossly over-rated, so-called clever people,

who only learned to appreciate their own prints when taught to by

the despised western barbarian; the etching of Rembrandt, until the

dealer discovered its value, could mostly be obtained for a song; the

mezzotint, when it was published, filled the place of the photograph,

brought only a guinea, or so, though the near-as-possible counterfeit

now is announced to be sold as a rarity in limited editions at the

price of the original; the etching of Meryon, valued to-day as much

for the paper it is printed on as for what is printed on the paper,

was sold by the artist for a few francs, in several cases quite

its full value--all these things and endless more are the sport of

the collector. ¶ And yet it has always seemed to me extraordinary

that the collector, who prizes works of the graphic arts mainly for

their rarity, has never collected those which really are rare. It is

inconceivable, it is astonishing and unbelievable, that the art of the

nineteenth century, the art of illustration, has been so neglected

that the original drawings, though they have been always with us, have

never yet been properly prized, appreciated, catalogued and collected.

I know that old drawings are collected, but the collector’s interest

in them to a great extent dates only from yesterday, and even now their

price does not equal that of prints from them, of which there may be

dozens, or, in fact, nobody knows how many examples in existence.

But I also know that, within the last hundred years, drawings,

illustrations, have been made in England and America that will rank

with any, ever made anywhere, in any age, and that these works of art

are absolutely ignored. And they are ignored simply because they have

not been collected, because in this country the British museum cannot

purchase the work of living British artists, and often it is during

the lifetime of the artist only that they can be secured, because in

France there is no place to exhibit drawings save in a corner of the

Luxembourg; the rest the French government possesses are buried in the

Cabinet des estampes. Theoretically, the rule of the British museum

may be a good one; it may be thought a safeguard against as terrible a

hodge-podge as that presented on the walls of the art gallery at South

Kensington. To some of us, however, a remedy suggests itself--change or

modify the rule, and, under intelligent direction, there is no reason

why collections as fine as those in Dresden and Berlin should not be

easily obtained even in England. ¶ The consequence of this neglect,

both deliberate and enforced on the part of the British government,

has been that here dealers and collectors, connoisseurs and amateurs,

have avoided original drawings almost altogether. Artists alone have

cared for them, have collected them, and still own almost all that

are best worth having.[99] But now that the best examples have been

collected, or have become impossible to collect, I see signs vaguely

of an appreciation. I do not for a moment think this is due to any

artistic awakening or any sudden recognition of a genuine form of

art--the art, as I have always described it, and as it will be known

in the future, of the nineteenth century. The real cause is to be

found rather in the desire for some new thing. Personally, I care very

little what is bringing the change about; I am merely delighted to

know that it is coming,[100] for I have been preaching the beauty of

this work for many years, though, I admit, in a wilderness of paint,

prints, pots and postage stamps. When it does come, the possessors of

these drawings will find that they own, not only things of beauty, but

wonderful examples of an individual form of expression which owes its

existence altogether to the last century. I do not mean to suggest

that illustration is a modern form of art; it is as old as the world.

I do not mean to say that, in their way, the works of the artists of

the Renaissance are not glorious; I do not mean to say that the works

of the eighteenth century are not superb, after their fashion; what

I do mean is, that not until the nineteenth century in England, with

Blake and with Bewick, did illustration become a separate, independent

and individual branch of the fine arts. The reasons are simple--the

appearance of artists who loved and respected their profession, and the

improvement and development of technical and mechanical processes. ¶

Blake wished to show his art in his own publications. There was nothing

new in this; Dürer had done it centuries before. But Blake confined

himself virtually to illustration; with Dürer, it was only one of

his many means of expression. Bewick may or may not have learned to

adapt the technique of steel engraving to wood from Papillon; that

is a detail for the historian. What he did do, and what Papillon did

not, was to impose the new method successfully on the world. Not only

did Bewick produce his series of nature books, the forerunners of the

present fad for that sort of thing, but he invented a school and a

scientific manner of work which conquered the world. ¶ I have traced

already the development of English book-illustration, showing how it

spread from England to France and to Germany, and how, as it progressed

through these countries, artists appeared to work for it--great artists

in illustration but in nothing else, Meissonier and Menzel. I have

elsewhere shown how, though these artists were ready to draw upon

the wood block, they had to send to England for engravers to engrave

their designs; I have shown how the pupils and the methods of Bewick

were spread all over Europe: but while this was happening the art was

languishing in England. Lithography and cheapness had commenced to

stifle it. Education and the personal benefactor, the curses of this

country, were sitting on it. The equivalent in that day to the county

council, I doubt not, had it by the throat. It is true that William

Harvey, Linnell, and a few others carried on, as best they could, the

traditions of Bewick. But through the mid-century, Turner and his steel

engravers struggled with the lithographers, Harding, Prout and Lewis,

only that all alike might be undermined by Knight’s penny something

or other, and that horror, as it then was, _The Illustrated London

News_, always catering for the people, and the people damn any form

of art.

[Illustration: PLATE I

FROM ‘GIL BLAS’ 1836, DRAWN BY I. GIGOUX,

ENGRAVER UNKNOWN]

[Illustration: THE ROUND TABLE, FROM ‘GESCHICHTE FRIEDRICHS DES

GROSSEN,’ 1840

A. MENZEL, DEL. E. KNUTCHMAR, SC.]

[Illustration: PLATE II

ORIGINAL DRAWING BY W. WESTALL]

[Illustration: FROM ‘NORTHCOTE’S FABLES,’ 1828, DRAWN BY HARVEY,

ENGRAVED BY JACKSON]

[Illustration: ORIGINAL DRAWING BY BARTOLOZZI]

[Illustration: ORIGINAL DRAWING BY COURBOULD]

But, with the appearance in Germany, in 1840, of Menzel’s ‘Geschichte

Friedrichs des Grossen,’ and its appropriation in 1845, by the

ingenious Mr. Bohn--I wonder what he paid for the blocks--a new era

dawned in England. And just one word about this book. It contains

500 illustrations by Adolf Menzel, and, says the advertisement, ‘in

the execution of the cuts both French and British artists (engravers)

have been engaged.’ But it so happened that they were all discarded

by the artist for German engravers whom he himself trained. The 500

illustrations were drawn by Adolf Menzel on the wood, and his trials

and tribulations are well known to all who have studied the history of

illustration. Five hundred drawings in one book, all done on little

wood blocks. Why, even this is enough to ruin anybody in our day, when

it is an honour to be devoid of technical ability and physical capacity

for work. But then we live in a time when incompetence, laziness and

anæmic imbecility are, in this country indispensible credentials to

fame. ¶ This book of Menzel’s, which has never been surpassed as an

example of reproductive wood engraving, was seen by the Dalziels and

shown to, at any rate, Keene, Rossetti, Sir John Gilbert and, most

likely, Millais. If some of the lesser but more precious illustrators

then at work refused to look at it--well, the loss was their own, and

it is probably one of the reasons why so little afterwards was ever

heard of them. ¶ Some ten years later, in France, where ever since

the thirties the romanticists had been illustrating, notably Curmer’s

edition of ‘Paul et Virginie’ (1838), while Jean Gigoux in his ‘Gil

Blas’ (1836) had made an everlasting reputation, there appeared

Meissonier’s edition of the ‘Contes Rémois’ (1858), by which, and

not by his sensational dealings in paint with millionaires, his name

will be remembered. And then England woke up again. The first English

book which shows any evidence of a revival in art, an attempt to

escape from the be-Knighted, be-illustrated traditions, was William

Allinham’s ‘Music Master,’ which contains nine illustrations: seven

by Arthur Hughes, one by Rossetti--The Maids of Elfen Mere, which

appears really to have made a sensation--and one by Millais. It was

published in 1855. The English edition of Menzel’s ‘Fredrick’ came

out in 1845. ¶ It should not be forgotten that there had been a

strong saving remnant all along from the time of Bewick. Northcote’s

‘Fables’ appeared in 1828, ‘embellished’ by 280 drawings, ascribed by

Northcote, but really by Harvey, ‘most excellently drawn on the wood

and prepared for the engraver by Mr. William Harvey, and improved by

his skill’--even Northcote himself admitted this in one edition. The

‘Voyage of Columbus,’ undated and unsigned, illustrated by Stothard,

was possibly still earlier. Then there was the ‘Solace of Song’ (1837);

there was Lane’s memorable edition of the ‘Arabian Nights,’ illustrated

also by Harvey (1839); and there were certain other volumes; but one is

not now making a bibliography. However, it was with the ‘Music Master’

(1855) that the great change came. ¶ In 1857 Moxon issued his edition

of Tennyson, the only book which is well known. It is extraordionary

how little good work there is in it, but this little is of the utmost

importance, for it includes the monumental Rossettis and Holman Hunts,

and a few beautiful Millais. Even more extraordinary is the proof given

not long ago of the public’s indifference to great illustration, for

when, recently, just these few fine illustrations, together with the

poems to which they refer, were reprinted, accompanied not only by the

artists’ original studies for them, but by a most interesting essay

by Mr. Holman Hunt, one of the illustrators, this new edition fell

perfectly flat. This is not very creditable to the intelligence of the

British collector, but it is a fact.[101] ¶ By 1859, the movement, with

the starting of _Once a Week_, got into full swing, and we are in the

golden age of illustration, the most striking, the most original phase

of British art. From this time onward, for ten years, the publishers

of this country issued a series of books and magazines that have

never been approached, and when the present tendencies in art are

considered, it is fairly safe to add will never again be approached

in England. Then, artists sought to put the best of themselves into

illustration on the wood block. Then, engravers endeavoured to engrave

these illustrations as well as they possibly could, and though all

of us have been forced regretfully to admit that the methods were

abominable, the drawing being cut all to pieces before it could be

printed, and the artist having no redress, the published results were

often astonishingly good. Then the printer took a pride in doing his

work as well as he knew how. And though it might be, and often was,

bad, it was the best of which he was capable, and it was frequently

much better than what is done to-day. Then, the publisher regarded

himself as a shopkeeper, whose business was merely to put his name on

the books and to sell them, and he was content to do this and nothing

more. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed. Now, not only does

he sit at the receipt of custom, but he dominates the whole. He tells

you what the public wants according to his ideas, and the length of his

purse, and his travellers’ opinions. And as in nine cases out of ten,

despite these authorities, he is supremely ignorant of the work which

he farms out, and as cheapness and vulgarity are his only gods, and

as paper has come down and process has come in, it is not surprising

that English book-illustration should be just where it is to-day. There

are, of course, exceptions to this rule among the publishers. They are

few, indeed. But they know their position, and it would be discouraging

to the rest to name them. ¶ But, the collector may ask, what in all

this defence of book-illustration is there for me? As I have pointed

out, the illustrations, at any rate up to 1865, were all drawn on the

wood block, and were all cut to pieces in the engraving. There remain,

therefore, only a very few and rare originals that for some reason or

other were not engraved. There also remain in many cases studies for

these illustrations. For example, the British museum has been lately

showing an illustration, so-called, by Sir J. E. Millais, for his

‘Parables,’ published first in _Good Words_, and then in a separate

volume by the Dalziels (1864). This is not the illustration really,

but a study for it. It may safely be assumed that no original drawings

for book-illustration prior to 1865 exist, unless they are simply

drawings made on the wood for a book and never engraved, when they are

not book-illustrations at all--that is, illustrations which have been

used in a book--or unless they are drawings of some sort made for the

steel-engraver or the lithographer, which were copied or translated by

the engraver. For example, Turner’s illustrations to Rogers’ ‘Poems’

exist as most commonplace water-colours in the cellars of the National

gallery. Turner and Goodall between them made a great work of art

out of the ‘Datur Hora Quieti,’ but there is no original of this at

all save the trifling water-colour suggestion. Some of the artists,

however, were in the habit of making studies in pen-and-ink, or wash,

or pencil, on paper, of the exact size of the future engraving, and

containing all the details of the design, which was afterwards redrawn

on the wood block. Mr. Sandys did this in very many cases, and in some

he even made large versions of the drawings, especially for the ‘Amor

Mundi,’ which is owned by Lord Battersea. In his case, too, one or

two of his drawings, I know, never were engraved. One which I owned,

and which is now in the Adelaide museum, Australia, The Spirit of the

Storm, was unfinished, and a second, done for _Good Words_ or _Once a

Week_, for years kicked round in a drawer in the office of Swain, the

engraver, until I found it, when it was engraved and published in _The

Hobby Horse_; the reason for this long neglect being that it had been

considered too strong by the prurient-minded publisher of that time.

[Illustration: PLATE III

ORIGINAL DRAWING BY STOTHARD]

[Illustration: ORIGINAL UNENGRAVED ILLUSTRATION BY AN UNKNOWN ARTIST]

[Illustration: ORIGINAL DRAWING BY GEORGE BARRETT]

[Illustration: PLATE IV

ROSSETTI, DEL. DALZIELS, SC. THE MAIDS OF ELFIN MERE,

FROM ALLINGHAM’S MUSIC MASTER, 1855]

[Illustration: DRAWN BY S. PALMER, ENGRAVED BY W. T. GREEN, FROM

‘SACRED ALLEGORIES,’ 1856]

After about 1865, or rather before, for the books were published

in that year, some of the drawings for the illustrated editions of

Dalziel’s ‘Arabian Nights, 1865,’ and ‘Goldsmith, 1865,’ were regarded

by the engravers as so remarkable that they had photographs made from

these drawings on the wood, and then, by the newly-discovered art of

photographing on to wood, the photographs were transferred on to other

wood blocks, and the originals on the wood preserved. Several are to

be seen in the art gallery at South Kensington. The British museum

possesses a few, and so do the Adelaide and Melbourne museums in

Australia. Mr. Harold Hartley, Mr. Fairfax Murray, Mrs. C. E. Davis,

Boyd Houghton’s sister, and, I believe, Mr. Heseltine, are among

other owners of these rare drawings, either on wood or paper. But the

number is really very small. ¶ There is also a series of drawings for

Dalziel’s ‘Bible Gallery,’ commissioned by the Dalziels as early as

1863, as far as I can gather from Messrs. Dalziel’s own records, which

are not too satisfactory. Most of the drawings in this series, however,

were made on paper, though some by Mr. Watts and Sir Edward Poynter

were on the wood, and uncut, and may be seen at South Kensington.

Messrs. Dalziel, finding what a marvellous collection of illustrations

they had obtained, wisely did nothing but commission artists to make

more, and the work was not brought out until 1880, when the drawings

were all photographed on to the wood before engraving, and thus

preserved. Where most of them are to-day I do not know. As separate

illustrations and great works of art, I was the first to call attention

to them as far back as 1889. Those by Lord Leighton are now regarded

as his masterpieces, and there are very fine examples of Ford Madox

Brown, and Watts, and Sir Edward Poynter, who has never done better

work. From all but the artistic standpoint the book was a failure. ¶

These, then, with rare unengraved examples which are bound to turn up,

constitute all the original drawings for book-illustration reproduced

by wood engraving which will ever be found, and they are mostly owned

by museums. I must point out, however, that forgeries, both in the

way of shameless copies of the originals, or prints worked over with

pen-and-ink, and wash, and even colour--the artists themselves did this

sometimes; Pinwell certainly did--and palpable imitations, have all,

within a short time, been submitted to me. But, I should imagine, of

all these finished drawings done upon the wood for reproduction before

1865, there are not a hundred, probably not fifty, that will ever come

into the sale room. Of course, a great find may some day be made in a

publisher’s office, or an artist’s portfolio. But I doubt it.

~Note on the Illustrations.~--These are mostly included merely to

show the sort of drawings the artists made for the engraver and

lithographer, who either translated them on to the plate or stone or

had an intermediary to do this for them. The first, by Stothard, is

in sepia, and a design, I know not for what book, but evidently a

headpiece or initial which would have been cleaned up by the engraver.

The second, by Bartolozzi, a _cul de lampe_ in washes of indian ink,

is very pretty, and the engraver probably would follow it exactly,

though he would lose some of the freedom. The others on the same page,

by Westall and Courbould, are very typical, and represent the British

style of illustration for novels and stories at the beginning of the

last century, and very perfectly they represent it, and that is the

best I can say for them. The Westall, in wash and pen (indian ink),

is slightly touched with colour on the woman’s dress, and may have

been engraved on metal and printed in two or more tints. The other is

in simple black-and-white. The landscapes are very characteristic;

the upper, of the stolid, solid, British water-colourist, who was

determined at all costs to be British, and usually forgot he was an

artist. And the other, by Barrett, is typical of the later work

when Turner had made himself felt with the ‘Liber,’ or did Turner

steal from Barrett? Any way, Barrett is seen at his best in this very

charming sepia drawing, evidently for an illustration, while the

‘Liber’ drawings at the National gallery show Turner as an illustrator

at his worst and his best. The methods of the two artists are

absolutely identical; washes, little work with pen, and much scraping

and scratching with the knife. As for the engravings, one is from

Northcote’s ‘Fables,’ 1828, and shows the perfection of the minute work

of Harvey and Jackson. Yet there is the feeling, somehow, of a big

landscape in the print, and the engraving is extraordinary, putting

to shame much of the modern so-called bold, but really blundering and

ignorant, work on wood. The printing also is excellent in Northcote’s

volumes. They were printed by J. Johnson, and the excellent blacks

the printer of to-day would, even with all his improved appliances,

have difficulty in equalling. The printing is much better than that

in the French book, ‘Gil Blas,’ by Everat (Paulin, 1836), in which

the ink is dull and grey, but in every other way the Gigoux shows

the wide difference in aims there was between the leading English

and French artists of that day: Harvey, all refinement; Gigoux, all

force, directness and go. Both these engravers seem to have rendered

the originals well. What the artists thought is another story. The

Gigoux also proves that Daniel Vierge worked out rather than invented

his style. The next two illustrations are from Curmer’s ‘Paul et

Virginie,’ 1838, which is usually regarded, as Curmer wished it, a

‘monument typographic’ to the glory of the artists who illustrated

it, is admitted to be the most important French illustrated book of

the period, and to it all the better remembered Frenchmen of the

time contributed something. Among the artists are Isabey, Paul Huet,

Jacque, Johannot, Français, Meissonier, Steinhell; the engravers were

Poiret, Lavoignat, Best, Brévière, Frenchmen; Bentworth, the German;

but Orin Smith, Branston, Mary Ann Williams and her brothers, English,

did the greater part of the work: a magnificent, artistic union, more

practical in many ways than visits of kings and the patter of papers.

The book was printed, and extraordinarily well printed, by Everat. ¶

The appearance of Turner as an illustrator changed things much. The

‘Solace of Song,’ published by Seeley, 1837, illustrated by Harvey,

and engraved by W. T. Green and others, is simply metal engraving on

wood, and is astonishing as an example of what can be done. The final

outcome is seen in the print from ‘Sacred Allegories,’ by the Rev. W.

Adams (Rimingtons, 1856), one chapter of which, ‘The Distant Hills,’

is illustrated by Samuel Palmer and also engraved by Green. This

is, of its sort, probably the most perfect example of English book

illustration. ¶ But in Germany the greatest progress had been made

under Menzel, and his ‘Frederick,’ from which the print, The Round

Table, is taken, is simply magnificent. It was engraved by Krutchmar,

1840, and from it sprang modern illustration, as I have said, in

England. The first evidence is to be found in Rossetti’s Maids of Elfen

Mere in Allingham’s ‘Music Master,’ 1855. In 1858 came the ‘Contes

Rémois,’ Levy, illustrated by Meissonier, the perfection of French

work, and the beginning and end of his reputation, as well as the most

amazing proof of the genius of Lavoignat as a wood-engraver. After this

the art of illustration began to flourish in England, and in a year or

two the most superb work was being done.

[Illustration: PLATE V

MEISSONNIER, DEL. LAGORNAL, SC. FROM ‘LES CONTES REMOIS,’ 1858]

[Illustration: JACQUE, FROM CURMER’S ‘PAUL ET VIRGINIE,’ ENGRAVED BY

MARY ANN WILLIAMS, 1838]

[Illustration: E. ISABEY, DEL. BAGG, SC. FROM ‘PAUL ET VIRGINIE’]

ANDREA VANNI

❧ WRITTEN BY F. MASON PERKINS ❧

Although the name of Andrea Vanni is by no means unfamiliar to the

student of Sienese painting, it is doubtful whether its mention

ever calls up to any but a few the image of a definite artistic

personality. What fame Andrea now has rests more upon tradition than

upon acquaintance with his art. He was born in 1333, or thereabouts. An

active participant in the popular uprising of 1368, which resulted in

the expulsion of the nobles and the foundation of the new government of

the _reformatori_, he played, during the twenty years that followed, a

busy and not unimportant part in the affairs of the Sienese republic,

leaving behind him a lengthy and honourable record of the various

offices which he held. In later years a friend and warm admirer of his

great townswoman Caterina Benincasa, he was the recipient of much good

counsel from that gentle saint, in the shape of certain letters which

have perhaps done more than all his political achievements to keep

alive the memory of his name. ¶ But it is not with Andrea the diplomat,

or Andrea the devotee, that we are here concerned. Those who would know

him better in these characters need only examine the pages of Milanesi,

of Banchi and Borghesi, and of St. Catherine’s letters. Andrea has left

behind him documents of a very different nature, and of a far deeper

interest, than any of mere lettered parchment, and documents by no

means so rare as has generally been supposed. With all his diplomatic

and official celebrity, he was primarily an artist--perhaps not a great

one in the superlative usage of the word, but sufficiently interesting

to warrant an attempt to revive his memory as a painter by giving back

to him a number of works which, in his native town and elsewhere, pass

to-day under other, and sometimes greater, names. ¶ The works upon

which Vanni’s reputation as a painter has hitherto rested are only

three in number, and are all in his native town:--a well-known portrait

of St. Catherine, in the church of S. Domenico; a very little known

polyptych, in the church of S. Stefano; and a fragmentary Crucifixion,

once in the church of the Alborino, now in the Istituto delle Belle

Arti. Of these three works, whose common authorship is evident, the

altarpiece in S. Stefano and the Crucifixion in the Belle Arti are

given to Andrea on sufficiently reliable documentary grounds; the

likeness of St. Catherine, on the strength of a tradition of several

centuries. Despite its historical interest, and its great decorative

design, this portrait-fresco, in its present state, can help us to but

a slight idea of its author’s general style, and for this purpose the

unimportant and somewhat coarsely-painted fragment in the Belle Arti

can help us but little more. But the great polyptych of S. Stefano

is happily a very different and vastly more important work, and of

a nature to give us a satisfactory conception of Andrea’s manner at

the time in which it was executed. A glance at this huge painting, or

the accompanying reproduction, reveals at once that Vanni belonged to

that same group of late trecento painters of which Bartolo di Fredi

is the best known representative. Like the work of that master, it

shows the influence both of Simone Martini and of the Lorenzetti. But

it displays the qualities of a strongly-marked individuality as well.

¶ Let us examine it in detail, commencing with the central and most

important panel of the Virgin and the Child. That which, apart from

the colour, strikes us immediately and most forcibly, is the peculiar

silhouette-like character of the design. The great figure of the

Madonna is thrown out like a dark, clear-cut pattern against the golden

background of her throne. Except for the face and hands, there is

little, if any, attempt at modelling or chiaroscuro. The whole effect

is flat to a degree, reminding us somewhat of the coloured prints of

Japan, with their sharply-defined outlines and broad fields of colour.

In this feeling for flat design, Andrea gives witness to his being a

follower--if an extreme one--of Simone’s methods. But he has little

or none of Simone’s subtle contours and undulating flow of line. The

drapery of Andrea’s Virgin is severely simple--there is a remarkable

economy of line and fold, reminding us in this rather of Ambrogio

Lorenzetti than of Simone. Her stiff, upright pose, again, has none of

the tender grace of Simone’s Madonnas and saints, and is more akin to

that of Ambrogio’s statelier figures. In facial type Andrea’s Virgin

is, however, distinctly his own. The large rounded cranium, the narrow

eyes and small half-covered iris, the delicately drawn mouth, the firm

but not obtrusive chin, go to make up a set of features not easily

forgotten. The Christ-Child, again, reveals decidedly the influence

of Simone’s models, and finds its prototype in the Child of Simone’s

great fresco of the Majestas in the Palazzo della Signoria, as well as

in other works by him, by his close follower Lippo Memmi, and by their

school. ¶ Turning now to the other figures, we note in the Baptist a

striking similarity, even in the smallest details, to Simone’s figures

of that saint at Pisa and at Altenburg, of which it is evidently a

free copy. The St. Bartholomew shows like influences in a less degree.

The figures of SS. James and Stephen are more Vanni’s own--the head of

the latter being a free repetition of the Virgin’s. The Annunciation

is severely vigorous and individual, the dark figure of the Virgin

again showing, very clearly, Andrea’s love of the silhouette. The

side figures of saints, and the evangelists in the pinnacles, reveal

a slightly stronger sense of modelling and characterization, and

remind us of Bartolo di Fredi and Luca di Tommé. The colour throughout

is bright and clear, laid out in broad and simple masses, with a

parsimonious use of shading and a lavish use of gold. ¶ If Tizio’s

notices of this altarpiece be correct--and there is no reason to doubt

that they are so, especially as the style of the work itself supports

rather than contradicts them--it was painted in or about 1400. It is,

therefore, the production of a man already verging on his seventieth

year, and must represent the later, if not the last, development of

Vanni’s style. As we have already noted, it has a family likeness to

the work of Bartolo di Fredi and others of his school. Still, despite

all superficial or general resemblances, these two painters are widely

different in style and spirit. In pure grace and charm, Bartolo leaves

Vanni far behind him. Andrea’s work again, at least as we here see it,

has none of the softly-graded colour, the delicate modelling, the freer

line, the careful technical finish of detail--none of the _bibelot_

quality in fact--of Bartolo’s at its best. But, for all that, it

convinces us that his was the deeper, grander soul. For mere prettiness

or elaborate technical refinement he displays little sympathy or care.

Directness and simplicity of expression, staid dignity and great

seriousness of purpose--these seem the salient characteristics of

his nature, as we read it in his art; nor do they disagree with the

conception which the written records convey to us of the man.

[Illustration: POLYPTYCH BY ANDREA VANNI IN THE CHURCH OF SAN STEFANO,

SIENA]

[Illustration: ANNUNCIATION, BY ANDREA VANNI, IN S. PIETRO OVILE, SIENA]

[Illustration: VIRGIN AND CHILD, FROM THE ALTAR-PIECE BY ANDREA VANNI

IN S. FRANCESCO, SIENA]

Taking this altarpiece, then, as a fairly characteristic example

of Vanni’s mature style, I shall bring before the reader’s notice a

series of works, at present under other names, one and all of which

share with it, in a greater or a less degree, all the peculiarities

which I have already pointed out, as well as others to which I have not

yet drawn attention. Not the least among these works, in size and in

importance, is a picture of the Enthroned Virgin and Child, popularly

known as the Madonna degli Infermi, in the church of S. Francesco

at Siena. Those who have once seen this strangely impressive painting

will not be likely to forget it. The colossal Virgin is seated upright

on her throne, majestic and solemnly hieratic, the grave-visaged

Child supported on her arm. There is something enigmatic, mysterious,

superhuman, in the commanding grandeur of the figures, which the

photographic reproduction[102] can but partially convey. They remind

us of some of the works of early Byzantine art, in their strange

impassiveness and impersonality, far rather than of those of late

fourteenth-century Siena. The panel has been cut down, and evidently

once formed but part of an even more imposing whole. The flesh parts

have darkened as if by smoke, and now have the colour of mahogany;

the glazings and the surface coatings have entirely disappeared. The

picture is traditionally attributed to Pietro Lorenzetti, but there

can be no question as to its real author. Let us compare it with

the central panel of the S. Stefano polyptych. Even in its present

damaged state, the analogies which it offers to that painting are so

apparent that it is more than surprising some passing critic, or even

some local art-historian, has not long ago given it back to its true

painter, striking and important picture as it is. The similarities

between the two Madonnas seem hardly to require comment. The same

clearly-outlined figure, the same sedate pose, the same dark mantle

with its golden border and broad and simple folds, the same head,

eyes, nose, and mouth, the same hands--to dwell longer on these points

would be merely to waste words. Here we have, beyond a doubt, another

work of Andrea Vanni, belonging to the same period as, and sharing all

the characteristics of, the S. Stefano polyptych--only in a severer

and grander vein. As if in support of our conclusions, Tizio tells us

that at about the same time Andrea painted his great picture for S.

Stefano he executed still another similar work for the friars minor

of S. Francesco. Doubtless this present panel once formed part of

the work to which he refers, nor would it be stretching a point too

far to say that its present half-ruined condition is probably due to

damage suffered during the disastrous conflagration which, in 1655,

wrecked the great building wherein it stood and destroyed so many of

its treasures. ¶ But this, to my mind, is not the only work by Vanni

still to be seen in this same restored church of S. Francesco. In the

last chapel of the north transept is an imposing fresco of the Virgin

seated with the Child in an elaborate architectural throne. It is

generally attributed to Ambrogio Lorenzetti, and has been published

with his name. As it now stands, this fresco has been almost entirely

renewed, but enough of its original spirit still remains to afford the

practised eye some slight idea of its primitive state. The incised

outlines are still virtually unchanged, and the forms of the figure and

the broad folds of the drapery have preserved, to a great extent, their

original character. As is usually the case, the faces have undergone

the greatest transformation, yet even here the original features have

not been entirely lost. Quite enough remains, in fact, to convince

me that in this case also we are in the presence of what was once an

important work of Andrea Vanni. The entire figure of the Virgin, the

peculiarly marked outline, the dignified position, the oval head, the

narrow eyes, and the straight nose, the characteristic and tell-tale

folds of the voluminous mantle, their peculiar arrangement about the

feet, the long wrist and hand, still pierce through the modern covering

of repaint, clearly revealing the touch of Vanni’s brush. ¶ In far

better condition, and far easier of identification, is the half-length

panel of the Virgin and Child--evidently once part of a larger work,

but now cut down to fit an oval frame--in the chapel of the SS. Chiodi

in Siena. This picture, usually given to Barna, was surmised, but only

surmised, by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, to be a possible work of Vanni.

The reasons for their hesitation are rather difficult to find, and

they were certainly correct in their conjecture, for the work is as

evidently by Vanni as is the great Madonna of S. Francesco. But here

we have our painter in a very different, far gentler, almost playful,

strain. As usual, the Virgin is seated sedately upright on her throne,

clad in the conventional dark mantle, fastened, as in the fresco of

S. Francesco, by a splendid golden clasp. The head and face are the

same in shape and features as in the other panels; the expression

less serious and solemn. The Child is pleasing in type and action.

With one hand to His mouth, He presses with the other His Mother’s

bared breast as He looks half shyly towards the spectator. Here again

there is none of the hieratic solemnity of the S. Francesco panel. The

colour--apart from the repainted mantle--is warmer, and the modelling

of the flesh parts softer, than in the picture of S. Stefano, but the

forms and details are the same. ¶ Somewhat similar in spirit to this

last-named work are two other panels, one in the church of S. Spirito,

the other in S. Giovanni in Pantaneto, better known as S. Giovannino

della Staffa. The first of these is a full-length figure of the Virgin

holding in her arms the Christ-Child, who plays with a bird. At the

foot of the throne kneels a diminutive figure of the donor, cap in

hand. The Virgin sits in the upright position common to all the

pictures we have so far examined; she has the same bend of the head,

the same stereotyped set of features. The architecture and perspective

of the throne are the same as in the picture of the SS. Chiodi and

the fresco in S. Francesco. The Child is not unpleasing in action

and expression. The figure of the Virgin has suffered considerably

from repaint, the mantle being in great part quite new. The original

colour is bright and gay, but the execution is less careful than in

most of Vanni’s works, and would lead us to place this panel in

the last years of his activity, when his brush had lost some of the

freshness of its touch, were it not for the energetically, and at the

same time carefully, executed little figure of the kneeling donor,

damaged and darkened but still intact--a remarkable piece of early

portraiture, finely characterized. Judging from the shape of this

panel, it also once formed part of a triptych or polyptych. The Madonna

of S. Giovanni has suffered far more from restoration, the figure

of the Christ-Child being here almost entirely repainted. The still

pleasing Virgin displays Vanni’s usual type, and differs but slightly

from the Madonna in S. Spirito, although originally it may have been

a more carefully executed figure. Still another picture, a charming

little Annunciation, in the possession of Count Fabio Chigi at Siena,

also clearly shows Andrea’s hand: it is very careful in execution and

graceful in movement--far more free in this respect than the similar

but severer treatment of the subject in the polyptych at S. Stefano.

The types are Vanni’s usual ones, the colour is quiet and subdued.[103]

¶ But finer in quality and in a better state of preservation than

any of these works, is a little picture of the Virgin and Child

belonging to Mr. Bernhard Berenson, at Florence. That it is by Vanni

needs no urging on my part--a moment’s comparison of the accompanying

reproduction with any of the paintings which we have already examined

is sufficient to prove this very obvious fact. It would be hard to

imagine a more characteristic and at the same time a more charming

example of his work. Yet in some ways it differs considerably from the

paintings we have so far studied, especially in its more painstaking

and finished execution, and in its light golden tone of colour, so very

unlike that of such works as the Madonnas of S. Spirito and the SS.

Chiodi. Although not without the dignity which Vanni never fails

to give her, the Virgin in Mr. Berenson’s picture is less sedately

grave than in the panels at S. Francesco and S. Stefano--the Child

less grown-up and solemn. Both, again, are in Vanni’s softer, more

gentle mood. Belonging to Mr. Berenson also, we have another panel by

Andrea, painted in a very different style and spirit. It represents

the Deposition from the Cross, and must have been part of a predella

to an altarpiece. Derived from Ambrogio Lorenzetti’s treatment of this

sublime theme, it yet is more restrained, more intellectual, and more

clearly arranged.

[Illustration: LONDON STEREO CO.

MADONNA AND CHILD BY ANDREA VANNI IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. BERNHARD

BERENSON]

[Illustration: DETAILS OF THE ANNUNCIATION BY ANDREA VANNI IN S. PIETRO

OVILE, SIENA]

The famous portrait of St. Catherine which I have already mentioned,

and which is too well known to require description, and the Crucifixion

in the Belle Arti--a fragment of a larger work painted in 1396--would

bring this particular list of Vanni’s works to a temporary close,[104]

were it not for still another painting, perhaps even more interesting

than any of these, which to my mind must also be classed with them. In

the church of S. Pietro Ovile, at Siena, we find a beautiful free copy

of Simone Martini’s famous Annunciation, now in the Uffizi gallery.

This picture has aroused the admiration of numberless tourists and

the curiosity of more than one writer on Siena’s art. Apart from its

traditional attribution to Simone and Lippo Memmi themselves, it has

undergone a series of widely different baptisms at a variety of hands;

from a trecento it has become a quattrocento painting, and so back

again. It has long been my conviction, as it has been that of no less

an authority on Sienese painting than Mr. Berenson before me, that

this picture is a work of Andrea Vanni. I am quite well aware of the

surprise which this sudden attribution will cause to many, as I am

also of the difficulties in proving my point with the limited and

unsatisfactory aid which photographs afford. In an article supported

only by photographic reproductions, that most important of all

arguments, quality, and, as in this case, the hardly less convincing

one of colour, must in great part be laid aside. Nevertheless, there

remains, in this particular instance, so much that can be demonstrated

by photographic evidence in support of Vanni’s claims, that I shall

make the attempt. ¶ Of the history of the Annunciation now in S.

Pietro, nothing appears to be known. As it now exists it stands no

longer above an altar, but is let into the wall of the church. In shape

and size it was evidently once quite similar to Simone’s original,

but it has since been cut down and shortened at the sides and bottom.

The three panels which now surmount it have nothing to do with the

picture itself, and are the work of two different painters of the

quattrocento--the Crucifixion is probably by Giovanni di Paolo; the

two figures of St. Peter and St. Paul by Matteo di Giovanni, as we

see him in the remains of the altarpiece at Borgo S. Sepolcro, which

once contained, as its central panel, Piero dei Francesci’s Baptism

of Christ, now in London. They were probably placed in their present

position at a relatively recent date. As to its condition, the picture

has evidently not always enjoyed the care that is now given it, for it

is considerably damaged and darkened. The hand of the restorer has not

been absent, alas! and there are, unfortunately, visible traces of his

brush in the heads and hands, and in the Virgin’s draperies. ¶ That

we have here a copy, and in some ways a fairly close one, of Simone’s

famous picture, is obvious; that it was painted directly from Simone’s

original, which was at that time in the cathedral of Siena, is no less

certain; that it was painted by an artist who was throughout seeking

to overcome the peculiarities of his own somewhat strongly marked

style, and that he was but partially successful in so doing, is also

apparent. ¶ Let us examine the work more closely, and in its separate

parts, commencing with the figure of the Virgin. It shows but little

of the ease of movement and grace of line to be found in Simone’s

original. The high-waisted figure; the stiff, upright, almost rigid,

position; the line of the shoulders and the knees; the peculiar poise

of the head; the straight-falling folds of the drapery and the line of

the mantle as it catches the arm in its downward flow: all are points

which find their counterpart in the works of Vanni, and in those of no

other painter. Here, also, we have the same simple, strongly-marked

outlines, the same dark field of colour relieved, pattern-like and

comparatively flat, against the lighter background. Although the blue

of the Virgin’s mantle has darkened considerably, it is still apparent

that her figure was always fairly innocent of modelling--far more so

in fact than that of Simone’s Virgin. For Simone, with all his love of

outlined pattern, does not stop at this--his contour, however clear

and distinct, is far more flowing, far more subtle--his mass is far

less flat and unrelieved. Although the painter of the S. Pietro copy

has tried more or less faithfully to copy the arrangement of Simone’s

drapery, he has done it, perhaps despite himself, in his own way. The

folds in the copy have an entirely different character from that which

they possess in the original; they are precisely what we might imagine

Vanni doing in an attempt to be particularly graceful. But if all these

points in the drapery and figure remind us so unmistakably of Vanni’s

style, we discover in the Virgin’s head even closer affinities with

that master’s other works. The same well-rounded cranium and oval face;

the same narrow eyes, with the small half-covered iris and high-arched

brows; the same long straight nose (still clearly recognizable as

Vanni’s, despite scaling and later retouching); the identical mouth;

the same inclination of the head and its peculiar setting on the neck;

the same chin; the same long, slender hands: all are to be found in

one or other of the works we have already mentioned, and especially

in Mr. Berenson’s Madonna. Here we have, also, Vanni’s love of gold

brocade in the Virgin’s under garment and in the hangings of the

throne. The figure of the angel is no less characteristic. The drapery

is here incontestably Vannesque in its peculiar, not over-graceful,

folds. Here, again, is the clear outline, the slight modelling, and

the sparing use of chiaroscuro, the same treatment of the draperies,

the long hands and thin arms, as in all Vanni’s other works. The

outline of the face, chin, and neck has been damaged and gone over,

and the peculiar, straggling, dark-brown curls are a later addition,

and contrast strongly with the lighter golden hair behind them. Apart

from these slight changes, the head, although a would-be copy of

Simone‘s, shares Vanni’s characteristic features. The cherubs about

the Holy Spirit already point to the end of the trecento. The roman

lettering of the inscriptions we find used likewise on the scroll held

by the Christ-Child in Mr. Berenson’s picture. ¶ So much for material

resemblances, of which the reader may gather some idea by means of the

accompanying illustrations. And now a word as to the colour of the

work. Its striking resemblance, in this respect, to the Madonna of Mr.

Berenson’s collection, will not fail to carry conviction where there

may before have existed only persuasion. In the general quality of

technique, and more especially in the remarkable golden tone of colour

and the peculiar treatment of the flesh, the two works are strangely

alike, and cannot help but do away with any final doubts as to their

community of authorship.

[Illustration: ANNUNCIATION, BY ANDREA VANNI, IN THE COLLECTION OF

COUNT FABIO CHIGI, SIENA]

[Illustration: ANNUNCIATION, BY SIMONE MARTINI, IN THE UFFIZI GALLERY,

FLORENCE]