The decline of Italian art: its causes and results--Artists
of Urbino--Girolamo della Genga, and his son
Bartolomeo--Other architects and engineers.
The zenith of Italian art, especially of Italian painting, was
attained between 1490 and 1520. That brief span, scarcely a
generation of human life, not only embraced the entire artistic life
of Raffaele and witnessed the finest efforts of Leonardo, Luini,
Bellini, Giorgione, Francia, Ghirlandaio, Fra Bartolomeo, Sodoma,
Perugino, Pinturicchio, Spagna, and Salerno; it also ripened the
earlier and better fruits of Buonarroti's genius, of del Sarto's too
quickly degenerate palette, and of Titian's
"Pencil pregnant with celestial hues."
It saw the metropolitan St. Peter's commenced, the Stanze and Logge
well advanced; it assembled in the Vatican halls the noblest band
of painters ever united by one scholarship. That bright spot, the
Pausilippo of our pictorial journey, has been passed. Our onward way
lies through dreary days of progressive degeneracy, often fitfully
illuminated by its reflected lights, but more rarely gladdened by
gleams of original genius, or efforts of self-forgetting zeal.
In reviewing the history of painting, its stages of progress will
be readily distinguished. The Byzantine period may be regarded as
its starting point of stationary conventionalism.[*200] This was
followed by an age of sentiment, when earnest thought gradually
ameliorated penury of invention, and supplied intensity to
expression. To it succeeded an epoch of effort, the hand failing
to realise the aims of mind,[*201] the eye awaking to truths of
nature, but bewildered by their hidden meanings. Next came the age
of mastery;[*202] one of difficulties surmounted and doubts made
clear. But the summit when attained was speedily quitted; the period
of facility was too soon one of decline. In the words of Fuseli,
painters then "uniformly agreed to lose the subject in the medium."
Mechanism became the great object, copiousness a prized merit, until
mediocrity sought refuge in a multitude of figures, or fell back upon
theatrical artifice. The close of the fifteenth century was indeed a
cycle of rapid progression, opening many new channels for the efforts
of mind, and it was in Italy that this expansion was primarily
felt. The ultramontane invention of printing was then eagerly
adopted; the cultivation of revived philosophy, and the convulsions
consequent upon foreign inroads, introduced elements of change into
the Peninsular mind as well as its politics. In nothing was this
movement more felt than in the fine arts. During early times, the
ideas of artists exceeded their means of expression.[*203] Yet their
works, even when trammelled by fetters, partly of limited skill, but
more of traditionary mannerism, are often fit exponents of simple
thoughts, while the coincidence between the conception and style
renders solecisms of execution less startling. The forms may be timid
or stiff, but they are always careful and earnest. But now a further
range has been given to individual fancy. The choice and conception
of the theme, its character and composition, were alike freed from
conventional trammels, and became subjective (in the German sense)
rather than objective. Religion and its ritual remained the same,
the hero-worship of saints continued among its prominent features,
art still furnished aids to devotion. But, as books became abundant
and readers multiplied, pictures were no longer the written language
of holy things for the multitude. The high mission of Christian art
had been fulfilled; its limners, less impressed with their themes,
thought more of themselves; they appealed rather to the judgment
than to the feelings. They aimed at imitating nature to the life
more than at embodying transcendental abstractions.[*204] We have
already seen how the devotional inspirations of early painting, which
Beato Angelico's pencil had mellowed into loveliness, attained,
under the guidance of Raffaele, to consummate beauty of form.
But the impulse that had forced pictorial art to its culminating
point allowed it no rest, and the descending path was too quickly
entered. The speculative minds of its creators and its admirers
craved for novelty, for fresh themes and further powers. Elevation
of sentiment or purity of design no longer sufficed,[*205] and with
the competition which ensued for the guidance of public taste, there
sprang up many solecisms to degrade it. Much that was in itself
valuable was exaggerated into deformity. The knowledge of anatomy
which enabled Michael Angelo to embody the terrible, that element of
invention which he was the first fully to develop, also tempted him
to combinations outraging nature and harmony;[*206] and his style has
transmitted to our own day an influence dangerous to genius,[*207]
fatal to mediocrity. Less permanent, because less healthful,[*208]
was the opposite quality, introduced by Correggio, whose grace,
founded upon artifice, degenerated under Parmegianino and Baroccio
into meretricious affectation. A third ingredient, not so perilous
and more pleasing, was brought to perfection in Venice, where alone
can be appreciated the golden tints of Titian[*209] and the silvery
harmony of Veronese. It is indeed remarkable that all the schools
most celebrated for colouring have arisen in maritime localities, and
been deficient in accurate design.
[Footnote *200: I do not understand what this means. The "Byzantine
period" was not the starting point of anything, but rather a
decadence; and how can anything be the starting point of something
"stationary"? Christian art comes to us in the first centuries as
absolutely dependent on Roman pagan work. It did not contrive a
new force of expression, but very happily used the old. For the
history of art is continuous, and in Byzantine work we see merely a
decadence, not something new. The Renaissance in painting is based
on Roman art of pagan times in the work of the Cosmati and the
Cavallini, from whom in all probability Giotto learned all he could
learn. It is the same with sculpture. Niccolò Pisano is a pupil of
the ancients, a native of Apulia. The northern influence came later.]
[Footnote *201: Yes? In Duccio's work, for instance. But the hand
of man cannot achieve anything finer than the work of these early
men--than the Annunciation of Simone Martini, for instance. That they
preferred a decorative convention to a realistic does not accuse them
of incompetence. Dennistoun would have said that the Japanese could
not draw. It was not that "the hand failed to realise the aims of
the mind," but that the mind saw things from a standpoint different
from ours. It is easy to talk of the "truths of nature." What are
the truths of nature? It is a question of appearance, of a manner of
seeing, of an attitude of mind, of soul, toward nature and toward
itself. Simone Martini was as great an artist, in the true sense of
the word, as Raphael, in his own convention. Raphael's convention is
still ours, but we are already passing out of it. Is it not so?]
[Footnote *202: Yes; an age of realism. It is as though one preferred
a Roman work of the best period to a Greek work of the fifth century
B.C. What came was the tyranny of the body, without the
old excuse, for we no longer believed in the body; we no longer
believed in anything but unreality. It is not that the earlier men
were "right" and the later "wrong," but that both are equally right
and wrong where right and wrong do not count since only beauty may
decide. Dennistoun speaks as he does because he could not possibly
have spoken otherwise. He is wrong not so much in what he asserts as
in what he denies.]
[Footnote *203: Here, again, I do not understand. How can an
artist's ideas exceed his means of expression?--I do not say his
power of expression. What means of expression did Dante lack that
Milton enjoyed, or Sophocles? In what was Donatello poorer than
Michelangelo or Niccolò Pisano than either? Giotto had the same means
of expression as Apelles or Leonardo, for the work he undertook, and
before a new means of expression was invented, he could not have
conceived the use of it.]
[Footnote *204: Their aim was perhaps rather the realistic imitation
of life than the expression of it.]
[Footnote *205: They never sufficed.]
[Footnote *206: Too strong. Michelangelo was always master of the
weapons he used, however destructive they may have been to his
disciples.]
[Footnote *207: Nothing is dangerous to genius, not even mediocrity.]
[Footnote *208: This term applies to the science of medicine, not to
æsthetic.]
[Footnote *209: Titian can be seen to advantage only in Madrid,
Paris, Vienna, or London. In Venice he is almost absent.]
[Illustration: _Anderson_
MARTYRDOM OF S. AGATA
_After a picture by Seb. dal Piombo, once in the Ducal Collection at
Urbino, now in the Pitti Gallery, Florence_]
In a preceding portion of this work we have alluded to the
innovations of naturalism in painting, by men who introduced
perspective, created chiaroscuro, cultivated design, and mastered
nude action. Through their example, it not only extended a
predominating influence over pictorial treatment, but quickly
obtained that place as a canon of artistic criticism which it has
since continued commonly to hold. It may seem rash to impugn a
principle so universally adopted; and if perfection in art really
depends upon an accurate imitation of nature, it would be folly to
gainsay it. But the principle may be carried too far; and if we are
to allow to art a nobler mission,--if we recognise in painting and
sculpture a language wherein gifted men can embody, develop, and
elaborately adorn the conceptions of beauty and sublimity, or it may
be the sallies of humour and the scintillations of wit that flit
across the fancy--a key whereby they can impart to their fellows,
and transmit to all ages and nations, their emanations of genius,
their poetic flashes, their benevolent sympathies, their devotional
aspirations,--then surely a higher standard should be applied to what
are often ranked as merely imitative arts, and are tested by their
supposed fidelity as transcripts of external objects.[*210]
[Footnote *210: After all, Dennistoun is on the side of the
angels--though a little unctuously.]
Such views will to many seem visionary and strange heresies. Yet they
are truths by which painting reached its golden era, and which, even
in its decline, have been largely drawn upon. Under Louis XIV., a
vile epoch of a faulty school,[*211] allegory triumphed over reality,
and the best feelings of humanity were forced into masquerade. But
what shall we think of the taste which admits such solecisms against
nature, whilst objecting to the conventionalities practised by the
early Christian masters, and adopted by the purists of our own
day? What, indeed, is art but a tissue of conventionalities, even
when the imitation of external objects is its aim? Upon what laws
of nature are regulated the gradations of aerial perspective, or
the receding or flattened surfaces of basso-relievo? Does not the
landscape painter, in modifying the tones of his colouring, remember
that his mimic scenes are to be enclosed in gilt frames, an appendage
for which Providence has made no provision in the real ones? But
to such imitations art neither is nor ought to be confined. As the
language of genius, it expresses loftier themes, and none but kindred
spirits can fitly judge of its style, or set bounds to its range.
The rustic who spells through Burns or Bloomfield would pause upon
Paradise Lost, and throw down Hamlet in despair; whilst, to the
presbyterian who ornaments his walls with Knox's portrait, or the
Battle of Bothwell-brig, the Last Judgment would seem unintelligible,
the Transfiguration blasphemous, the Judgment of Paris a flagrant
indecency. In like manner, those who have neither imbibed the spirit
of the Roman ritual, nor studied the forms of Christian art, may
fully appreciate the dishevelled goddesses of Rubens, or the golden
sunsets of Claude,--the glowing tints of Titian, or the transparent
finish of Teniers; but let them understand ere they sneer at those
sacred paintings which for successive ages have confirmed the faith
of the unlettered, elevated their hopes, and inspired their prayerful
ejaculations.
[Footnote *211: One of the sad days. Cf. vol. II., p. 95, note *1.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
HOLY FAMILY
_After the picture by Sustermans, once in the Ducal Collection of
Urbino, now in the Pitti Gallery, Florence_]
When the Christian mythology, which had supplied art with subjects
derived from inspired writ or venerated tradition, was supplanted
by an idolatry of nature content to feed spiritual longings with
common forms copied without due selection from daily life, men no
longer painted what religion taught them to believe, but what their
senses offered for imitation, modified by their own unrestrained
fancies. Painting thus became an accessory of luxurious life, and
its productions were regarded somewhat as furniture, indicating
the taste rather than the devotion of patrons and artists. These
accordingly followed a wider latitude of topics and treatment. In
proportion as devotional subjects fell out of use, a demand
arose for mythological fable and allegory. Profane history,
individual adventure or portraiture, supplied matter pleasing to
vanity, profitable to adulation. But while the objects of painting
became less elevated, its mechanism gained importance; it became
ostentatious in sentiment, ambitious in execution. The aim of
professors, the standard of connoisseurs, declined from the ideal
to the palpable. A fresh field for exertion was thus opened up.
Schools attained celebrity from their successful treatment of
technical difficulties. Michael Angelo attracted pupils by his
power in design; Titian by his mastery in colour; Correggio by his
management of light; while the eclectic masters of Bologna vainly
aspired to perfection by nicely adjusting their borrowed plumes;
and the _tenebristi_ of Naples sought, by impenetrable shadows, to
startle rather than to please. A demand for domestic decoration led
to further exercise of ingenuity. Landscapes, first improved by the
Venetian masters as accessories, became a new province of art; and
transcripts from nature in her scenes of beauty were succeeded by
the clang of battles, the inanities of still life, the orgies or
crimes of worthless men.[*212] In architecture and in sculpture,
the departure was scarcely less remarkable from the pure style and
simple forms of the fifteenth century: a free introduction of costly
materials and elaborate decoration deteriorated taste, without
compensating for the absence of ideal beauty. The masters of this,
which we may distinguish as the "newest" manner, must accordingly
be tried by a new standard. Those of the silver and golden ages,
Angelico and Raffaele, sought a simple or vigorous development of
deep feeling; the Giordani and Caravaggii, men of brass and iron,
whose technical capacity outstripped their ideas, aspired not
beyond effect. Effect is, therefore, the self-chosen test to which
artists of the decline should be subjected, though it may detect
in them false taste and vulgar deformity. Under their guidance,
energy was substituted for grandeur, bustle for dramatic action;
while flickering lights and fluttering draperies ill replaced the
solidity and stateliness of earlier men. Art thus, like literature,
became copious rather than captivating. Ambitious attempts were not
wanting, but the effort to produce them was ever palpable. Ingenuity
over-taxed gave birth to bewildering allegories, affected postures,
startling contrasts, exaggerated colouring, meretricious graces.
Nature was invoked to stand godmother to the progeny, but she
disavowed them as spurious.
[Footnote *212: An undue sense of right seems to have led Dennistoun
to the brink of an absurd precipice. Why should not the orgy or crime
of a worthless man, make as good a picture as the orgy or crime [or
the good deeds either, for that matter] of the worthy man? Poetry
surely would seem to confound him here.]
The rapid decline of art when imitation of nature became more
strictly its object, has led to scepticism in some quarters as to
the expediency of adopting such a guide. Until human ingenuity shall
attain the means of embodying and preserving perfect copies of
external objects, it would be presumptuous to decide how far such
copies realise that standard of beauty which high art demands. The
daguerreotype and kalotype, which give the nearest known approach
to such a result, are far from solving the question in accordance
with naturalist views; for, on their metallic plates and porous
paper, a beautiful woman is, in general, coarsely caricatured; whilst
a bust of her, or a bas-relief, always retains the grace of the
sculptured original, and a chalk drawing is exquisitely reproduced.
Were it enough to depict with perfect precision the forms and
incidents reflected on the retina, a painter would be little more
than a mechanic, in whom original genius might be almost dispensed
with. But, though he will treasure in his portfolios a judicious
selection of such impressions as he can daily gather from actual
life, these, however nearly they may approach to nature and truth,
are only materials of future creations. For high art,--and of such
alone would we speak whilst Italy is our theme,--something more
than mere nature was undoubtedly required;[*213] yet her guidance
became indispensable after the revolution in taste and feeling
which dismissed mediæval traditions and types. So various, however,
are the freaks of individual fancy, so fantastic the vagaries of
reason uncontrolled by authority, that the new path was beset by new
pitfalls. The mediocrity of early masters found a refuge in mean but
inoffensive commonplace; that of their successors, mistaking freedom
and novelty for original genius, revelled in extravagant creations.
The acute agonies, physical and moral, which sadly consummated the
Atonement for man, were figured by the former in limbs wasted as
by prolonged disease, stiffened as by a lingering death: the deep
affliction of the Madonna Addolorata over the Saviour's body assumed
in their hands an expression of such grief as knew not the relief
of tears. But the artists of the "new manner" gave to crucifixions
anatomical accuracy developed in spasmodic writhings, and bespoke
sympathy for the mother of Christ by convulsive weepings, with
perchance the accessory of a pocket-handkerchief! In pictures of
this class, corporeal sufferings were rendered with horrible truth,
muscular energy was substituted for mental woe. Living in times which
needed fresh subjects as well as added powers, these painters laid
aside such themes as treated of the mysteries of faith, the legends
of primitive times, but especially such as, demanding spiritualised
feelings in the author and the spectators, were uncongenial to both.
To a contemplative religion, untroubled by sectarian movements, had
succeeded a church militant, armed by bigotry, and struggling for
existence. The revived Catholicism of Caraffa and Ghislieri required
art of a character as gloomy as itself, and commissioned works
wherein the terrors of the Inquisition replaced the promises of the
Gospel, earthly martyrdoms supplanted celestial hopes, and pure faith
was clouded by priestcraft. Henceforward, religious representations
were reserved chiefly for church decorations, and even there they
assumed an historical character, as in the miracles of our Lord, or
the acts of his apostles. Alexander VI. had decorated the pontifical
palace with incidents from the Gospel; but those which Paul III. and
his successors selected for the Sala Regia commemorate the triumphs
of an aggressive church in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, and
the naval action of Lepanto. Michael Angelo, in depicting the Last
Judgment, the chief glory of that pontificate, introduced Charon as
a prominent personage; and, with inconsistency, if possible, more
glaring, Poussin has painted Moses, the type of Christ, watched in
infancy by a river-god, in classical allusion to his preservation
from the perils of the Nile.
[Footnote *213: Art does not desire more than nature, but more than
an imitation of nature. The artist should create life, not imitate
it.]
Whilst we have thus had to consider the prevalent imitation of
external objects as an element tending to the corruption of purist
feeling, it unquestionably enlarged the scope and stimulated the
mechanism of painting. Such was the naturalism by which Raffaele,
Michael Angelo, and Titian developed the comparatively feeble and
stunted efforts of their predecessors into forms ennobling nature,
and redolent of intelligence. But, in studying these palpable
qualities, the more subtle ingredients of spirit and feeling were
often overlooked; indeed, most of the creators of the new style
outlived it, and saw it supplanted by a yet newer and far more
degrading naturalism, which, with few bright intervals, has continued
to cramp and pervert the manner of their successors. Such were and
are those painters who, on the strength of their sketches from the
life, and their studies of landscape and architecture, or with the
plea of occasionally introducing portraits into sacred or historical
compositions, proclaim themselves followers of nature, whilst
their works outrage or caricature her. There may be great anatomical
accuracy, and much truth in the separate heads, combined with
inventions the most unreal, movements the most constrained, mannered
attitudes, draperies meagre or overloaded, and a general substitution
of mean conceptions for pleasing realities. The elaborate finish
invariably found in the early masters was either bestowed upon
accessories in themselves trifling, but stamping an extraordinary
verity upon their works, or, as in the Sienese or Venetian schools,
it was lavished upon gorgeous costumes illustrative of national
manners. But similar details in later pictures are justly considered
to remove them in some degree from the category of artistic
performances to that of mere decoration, and are despised by those
who, aiming at breadth of effect, sometimes adopt the most hopeless
of all affectations, that of slovenly superficiality. Whence then
this difference? and why should jewels and embroidery, that seem
beautiful in Crivelli's saints or Dello's pageants, be vulgar gewgaws
on recent canvasses? Merely because, in the former, _all_ is minutely
worked, but all is subsidiary to the general sentiment, whilst, in
the latter, the absence of a simply pervading expression leaves each
individual detail crudely prominent; because the ancient masters made
everything subservient to that one overruling feeling of the picture,
which, in most modern works, is totally wanting.
[Illustration: _Anderson_
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA
_From the picture by Giorgione, once in the Ducal Collection at
Urbino, now in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence_]
* * * * *
The Dukes della Rovere of Urbino had hereditary duties as patrons
of art. Popes Sixtus IV. and Julius II., the founders of their
family, had munificently encouraged it; the antecedent princes of
Montefeltro had been its generous and discriminating friends. If the
later dynasty fell short of these examples, they were not without
excuse. Though the divine Raffaele parted his mantle among many
pupils, no shred of it fell to his native duchy. Francesco Maria
I., on succeeding to that state, found in it no lack of churches,
palaces, or pictures, and little native genius meriting support; so
he was content to call Titian from Venice to portray himself and his
Duchess.[*214] His two successors were less devoted to arms, and
more liberal to arts. They numbered among their subjects Baroccio
and the Zuccari, who once more gave a pictorial name to Urbino, and
they judiciously divided their commissions between these natives and
foreign painters.
[Footnote *214: Francesco Maria may have called, but Titian did not
come to Urbino. The first commission he had from the Duke was in
1532, when he was asked to paint as good a portrait of Hannibal as he
could and a picture of the Nativity. They were delivered in 1534. The
Duke wanted then a portrait of the Duchess, and asked Titian to paint
it on his way to Naples. This journey, however, never took place.
If Titian had any sittings, it was at Murano during the Duke and
Duchess's sojourn there in the autumn of 1537.]
In a former portion of this work it was our endeavour to interweave
the artistic notices which we had to offer in connection with Urbino,
into a rapid sketch of Christian painting in Umbria. Resuming the
subject, it will no longer be possible thus to generalise our views,
for the time had arrived when each aspirant selected his own course
to the temple of Fame; and in glancing at the various paths which
chance or fancy suggested to them, our readers must be prepared for
occasional repetitions. The ground, in itself less interesting,
is more beaten; and though none of the competitors approximated
the elevation gained by Raffaele, their numbers may be considered
as some compensation for their comparative mediocrity. Lazzari,
in his _Dictionary of Artists_ belonging to his native duchy, has
enumerated, under the Feltrian dukes, five painters, one sculptor,
one architect, and one military engineer; while under the Princes
della Rovere, these numbers are increased to twenty painters, eight
architects, and sixteen military engineers. Of sculptors, during the
latter period, there is no account; but along with eighteen followers
of mechanical arts connected with the higher branches, we find
workers in bronze, stucco, wood-carving, engravers, and makers of
watches and mathematical instruments, besides two potters and three
painters of majolica. It would be not less irksome than useless to
follow all this catalogue, but we shall endeavour to throw together
whatever is generally interesting of art in Urbino, during the
sixteenth century, whether by native painters, or foreigners employed
by the dukes; concluding with a chapter on minor arts, especially
that of _majolica_, or earthenware, for which the duchy was long
celebrated.
[Illustration: _Alinari_
JUDITH WITH THE HEAD OF HOLOFERNES
_After the picture by Palma il Vecchio, once in the Ducal Collection
at Urbino_]
* * * * *
Our catalogue of artists under the della Rovere dynasty may be
fittingly commenced with a name not unknown to their predecessors,
the Feltrian dukes. GIROLAMO DELLA GENGA was born at Urbino,
in 1476, of respectable parents, who destined him for the woollen
trade, by which the wealth of Florence had, in a great measure, been
gained. But the bent of his youthful mind was decidedly towards
design, and his pencil so interfered with his proper business, that,
after much vain opposition, his friends yielded, and sent him, at
fifteen, to the studio of Luca Signorelli. It was the mission of this
able painter to engraft upon the devotional traditions of Umbrian
art, imbibed from Pietro della Francesca, a novel energy of thought
and pencil; and Girolamo had the advantage of aiding him upon those
wonderful compositions in the duomo of Orvieto, which Michael Angelo
scrupled not to imitate in his Last Judgment, as well as warmly to
commend. After attending his master during the execution of other
commissions, he passed into the school of Perugino, where he found
his precocious countryman, the young Raffaele. There he remained
for three years, devoting himself chiefly to perspective, and
thence repaired to Florence to complete his education. At Siena he
was largely employed, along with Signorelli, by Pandolfo Petrucci;
returning from whence to Urbino, he formed an enduring intimacy
with Timoteo della Vite. They wrought together upon a chapel in
the cathedral, which no longer exists; but the works there assigned
to Genga were chiefly scenic and decorative, from his acknowledged
superiority in architectural perspective; and for these, the various
festive amusements then in fashion, such as pastoral dramas,
triumphal processions, cavalry trappings, and temporary arches,
occasioned in that gay capital a perpetual demand, during the
latter days of Guidobaldo I., and the first years of his successor.
His invention was especially called into play to welcome Duchess
Leonora to her states, and to supply scenery for the representation
of Bibbiena's _La Calandra_ in 1513. These apparently mechanical
performances were not, however, irreconcileable with excellence and
fame in the higher branches of art; and it was whilst thus engaged
that, during a short visit to Rome, he painted, for the oratory of
Sta. Caterina of Siena in the Via Giulia, an altar-piece of the
Resurrection, justly considered his chef-d'oeuvre.[*215] The
figure of Christ, soaring upwards amid sprawling angels, somewhat
anticipates Raffaele's Transfiguration, but with a copious infusion
of Michael Angelesque feeling. The latter influence predominates in
the violent attitudes and excited action of the guards, four of whom,
suddenly aroused by the supernatural event, are rushing about without
aim or self-possession; yet, the movement of one who awakens a still
slumbering comrade is extremely natural. The Marys, approaching
from the other side of the picture, recall Timoteo's manner. The
colour, concealed however under an accumulation of dirt, is of a
solid quality, and the chiaroscuri are skilfully managed, while the
inscription, _Girolamo Genga Urbinas facieb._, satisfactorily secures
its authenticity.
[Footnote *215: I know nothing of this oratory, and cannot find it.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
HEAD OF CHRIST
_After the picture by Titian, once in the Ducal Collection, now in
the Pitti Gallery, Florence_]
In 1497, Guidobaldo had granted to the Counts della Genga an
exemption from taxes, for which Girolamo showed his gratitude by
sharing the exile of Francesco Maria, when deprived by the tyrannical
usurpation of Leo X. He retired with his family to Cesena, where,
as at Forlì and other places in Romagna, he executed various church
pictures of merit; of these, the Baptism of Christ, the Conversion of
St. Augustine, and one representing the Almighty, with the Madonna,
and the Doctors of the Church, have found their way to the Brera,
at Milan. On the Duke's restoration, he was appointed his architect
and engineer, and thereafter discontinued painting, devoting himself
almost entirely to his new duties. Among the churches which he
built, were those of the Zoccolantines at Urbino and Sinigaglia,
but it was chiefly on the ducal palaces that he was employed.
Of these, the first committed to him was the Imperiale villa,
already mentioned.[216] Vasari describes it as a "very beautiful
and well-contrived fabric, full of chambers, colonnades, courts,
balconies, fountains, and delightful gardens, which every prince
passing that way goes to see; and which Paul III. visited, with his
court, when on his way to Bologna, and was quite pleased with all
he saw." It would seem from his account that the most important
ameliorations made by Genga upon that long-neglected residence, were
the tower and internal decorations. The former remains, of handsome
proportions; but its chief merit is said, by the Tuscan biographer,
to have consisted in the management of a concealed wooden stair,
reaching the summit in thirteen flights of steps, one hundred and
twenty feet in all. In 1543, Bembo wrote to Leonora,--"I have visited
your Excellency's Imperiale with much pleasure, both because I
greatly wished to see it, and because it seems to me constructed
with more intelligence and true artistic science, as well as with
more antique fashions and finely contrived conceits, than any modern
building I have seen. I heartily congratulate your Ladyship upon
it, for certainly my gossip Genga is a great and gifted architect,
far surpassing all my anticipations." The frescoes, illustrating
his employer's life, were distributed by him to several foreign
artificers, the duchy not boasting any painter of talent since the
recent death of his friend Timoteo Vite. Among these was his pupil
Francesco Minzocchi of Forlì, who, living on the limits of the
old manner and the new, succeeded in uniting many excellences of
both; yet, his works at Padua, Venice, Forlì, and Loreto, though
highly creditable, scarcely merit the exaggerated praise bestowed
on some of them by Vasari. That biographer's oversight, and his
own modesty, have, on the other hand, done scrimp justice to
Raffaele del Colle, whose attractive pencil is scarcely appreciated,
notwithstanding Lanzi's eulogy. A pupil of the incomparable Sanzio,
and of Giulio Romano, he preserved a healthy style amid prevailing
deterioration; and many of his pictures still adorn the churches of
Central Italy.[217] Contemporary with these was Angelo Bronzino, who
maintained at Florence, during an age of general feebleness, the
reputation transmitted by Andrea del Sarto and Pontormo. The grace
of a Cupid, which he painted upon a corbel at the Imperiale, gained
for him the patronage of Prince Guidobaldo, who employed him in small
productions more congenial to his genius, including his portrait,
and a harpsichord cover, both of them greatly admired, but now lost.
The landscape ornaments in the villa were entrusted to the brothers
Dossi, of Ferrara, or rather perhaps to Giovanbattista, the younger,
and less able of them; but so total was their failure, that they
were immediately thrown down, and replaced by others from Genga's
designs. More successful in that light style were the portions
committed to Camillo of Mantua, whose rural decorations are praised
by Vasari and Lanzi.
[Footnote 216: See p. 49.]
[Footnote 217: He left some valuable works in the upper valley
of the Metauro, now almost destroyed. Such are his Prophets and
Sybils in ten lunettes round the Corpus Domini at Urbania, with two
Nativities in the same church, one in fresco, the other on canvas.
An altar-piece, in the church of the Servites at S. Angelo in Vado,
is very inferior to his Madonna and Saints in S. Francesco of Cagli.
Some frescoes at Gubbio, lauded by Lanzi, and dated 1546, are among
his best works.]
We have thus far chiefly followed Vasari's authority, reconciling,
as best we might, inconsistencies and errors, the result of his
imperfect acquaintance with the locality. The paintings he describes
at the Imperiale were probably part of Duchess Leonora's labour of
love, to welcome her lord's return from his long campaigns. But the
condition to which they are reduced, by time and unworthy degradation
of the building, renders it impossible now to form an opinion of
the various hands that have wrought upon them, or to discover their
respective merits and subjects. The roofs of two saloons are occupied
by small historical compositions, from the actions of Francesco
Maria; but these are irrecoverably defaced. Two of them, ascribed to
Bronzino, are said to have represented the Duke haranguing the band
of adventurers whom he collected in Lombardy, for the invasion of
his duchy in 1517; and his reception by the Venetian senate in 1523,
as their captain-general. The ornaments of the remaining rooms are
merely decorative.
Additions were made by Francesco Maria to his other residences at
Urbino, Pesaro, and Castel Durante; on all of which, and Gradara,
Genga seems to have been employed. Him also he entrusted to build a
casino, within the walls of Pesaro, called the Barchetto, in which
a ruin was imitated, with a spiral stair commended by Vasari: this
house was subsequently assigned by Duke Guidobaldo to Bernardo Tasso,
as a home to himself and his son Torquato; and part of it is now
occupied by a gardener. Another work of Girolamo was the reparation
of the fortress at Pesaro, which, however, he undertook merely in
obedience to his sovereign, military architecture being little to his
taste. In acknowledgment of these services, he had, in 1528, a grant
of Castel d'Elce, with its feudal immunities, afterwards confirmed by
Guidobaldo II. Some years later, he remodelled the episcopal palace
at Mantua, and began an imposing church to St. John the Baptist at
Pesaro, which was completed by his son. Among his minor efforts in
the immediate service of the ducal family may be mentioned funeral
decorations for Francesco Maria, and a monument to him, erected by
Bartolomeo Ammanati of Florence, in Sta. Chiara of Urbino, but long
ago removed. Enriched and honoured, he spent his declining years in
leisure, and died in 1551. Vasari thus testifies to his exemplary
character:--"Girolamo was an excellent and honest man, of whom
no evil was ever heard. He was not only a painter, sculptor, and
architect, but also a good musician, an excellent and most amusing
talker, and was full of courtesy and affection to his relations and
friends." Among his numerous pupils, Baldassare Lancia, of Urbino,
was distinguished as a military engineer, whilst Bartolomeo his
second son, Bellucci of San Marino his son-in-law, and Federigo
Baroccio his nephew, all ably maintained his artistic reputation. In
the person of Leo XII., one of his family has recently attained the
highest station offered to the ambition of the Roman Catholic world.
* * * * *
BARTOLOMEO DELLA GENGA was born at Cesena in 1518, during
his father Girolamo's emigration, and was sent to Florence at
eighteen to study design in its various branches, under Vasari and
Ammanati. At twenty-one he returned to his father, who, seeing his
talent lie towards architecture, advised him to acquaint himself at
Rome with the best models. His first commission on returning home was
to prepare festive arches for Duchess Vittoria's reception after her
marriage. He then accompanied Guidobaldo to Lombardy, as his military
engineer, and, by examining the celebrated fortresses in that
country, added greatly to his professional experience. He at this
time refused very eligible appointments from the King of Bohemia,
and subsequently from Genoa, wishing to dedicate his services to his
own sovereign. Accordingly, on his father's death, he became ducal
architect, and built large additions to the palaces of Urbino and
Pesaro, especially the wing of the former, facing S. Domenico. He
also erected a number of churches in the duchy, and prepared plans
for a harbour at Pesaro, which were not carried into effect. Having
attended the Duke to Rome in 1553, he gave some hints to Julius III.
for the new fortifications of Borgo S. Spirito.
[Illustration: _Alinari_
THE RESURRECTION
_After the banner painted by Titian for the Compagnia di Corpus
Domini, now in the Pinacoteca, Urbino_]
His reputation being thus established, the Order of Malta selected
him to superintend the new defences proposed for their island, and
in 1557 sent two knights on a mission to obtain the Duke of Urbino's
sanction of Genga's engagement. During two months Guidobaldo resisted
all importunities, and they at length succeeded only through a
Capuchin friar, who, possessing his ear, represented the work as one
in which all Christendom was interested. On Bartolomeo's arrival,
he had but time to prepare a series of plans for civil and military
architecture, when he was cut off by fever consequent upon exposure
in the burning heat, having scarcely completed his fortieth year. Of
this family also was SIMONE GENGA, who, after fortifying many Tuscan
strongholds, carried his engineering talents to Gratz, in Austria.
From Stephen, King of Poland, he had, in 1587, a monthly salary of
76 dollars, besides allowances for four servants and as many horses,
whilst completing the defences of Varadino. Other architects of
Urbino are mentioned by the Marchese Ricci as leaving structures in
La Marca, such as LATTANZIO VENTURI, who, in 1581, built the communal
palace at Macerata, with an allowance of 30 scudi for his plan, and
40 more for overseeing its execution. Six years later, he completed
the façade of Loreto church, in the charge of which he was succeeded
by his son Venturo. His countryman, LUDOVICO CARDUCCI, having
accompanied him to Macerata, was employed on various ecclesiastical
edifices there, his designs for which were submitted for approval
to the Duke of Urbino. From Venturo Venturi the superintendence of
Loreto devolved, about 1614, upon GIOVANNI BRANCA, of S. Angelo in
Vado, who died there in 1645, aged seventy-four. His _Manual of
Architecture_ had passed through six editions previous to the present
century.