TINTORETTO
It does not seem likely that many new discoveries will be made about
Tintoretto's life. It was an open and above-board one, and there is
practically no time during its span that we are not able to account for,
and to say where he was living and how he was occupied. The son of a
dyer, a member of one of the powerful guilds of Venice, the "little
dyer," _il tentoretto_, appears as an enthusiastic boy, keen to learn
his chosen art. He was apprenticed to Titian and, immediately after,
summarily ejected from that master's workshop, on account, it seems
probable, of the independence and innovation of his style, which was
of the very kind most likely to shock and puzzle Titian's courtly,
settled genius. After this he painted when and where he could, pursuing
his artistic studies with the headlong ardour which through life
characterised his attitude towards art. Mr. Berenson thinks he may have
worked in Bonifazio's studio. He formed a close friendship with Andrea
Schiavone,[4] he imported casts of Michelangelo's statues, he studied
the works of Titian and Palma. Over his door was written "the colour of
Titian and the form of Michelangelo." All his energies were for long
devoted to the effort to master that form. Colour came to him naturally,
but good drawing meant more to him than it had ever done to any
Venetian. Long afterwards, to repeated inquiries as to how excellence
could be best ensured, he would give no other advice than the
reiterated, "study drawing." He practised till the human form in every
attitude held no difficulties for him. He suspended little models by
strings, and drew every limb and torso he could get hold of over and
over again. He was found in every place where painting was wanted,
getting the builders to let him experiment upon the house-fronts. To
master light and shade he constructed little cardboard houses, in which,
by means of sliding shutters, lamplight and skylight effects could be
arranged. It is particularly interesting to hear of this part of his
education, as in the end the love of shine and shadow was the most
victorious of all his inspirations.
[4] Andrea Meldola, the Sclavonian, a native of Dalmatia,
landing in Venice, had a great struggle for existence. He drew from
Parmegianino, and studied Giorgione and Titian. He was probably an
assistant of Titian, and helped him, as in the "Venus and Adonis" of the
National Gallery, which owes much to his hand. He fails conspicuously in
form, his shadows are black, and his figures often vulgar, but he has a
fine sense of colour, and a free, crisp touch. He was one of the young
masters who flooded Venice with light, sketchy wares.
The chief events in Tintoretto's life are art-events. For some years he
frescoed the outside of houses at a nominal price, or merely for his
expenses. He decorated household furniture and everything he could
lay hands on. Then came a few small commissions, an altarpiece here,
organ-doors there, for unimportant churches. No one in Venice talked
of any one save Palma, Bonifazio, and, above all, Titian, and it was
difficult enough for an outsider, who was not one of their clique, to
get employment. But by the time Tintoretto was twenty-six his talent was
becoming recognised; he had painted the two altarpieces for SS. Ermagora
and Fortunato, and the offer he made to decorate the vast church of his
parish brought him conspicuously into notice. In the first ardour of
youth he completed the "Last Judgment" for the choir. From time to time,
during fourteen years, he redeemed his early promises and executed the
"Golden Calf" and the "Presentation of the Virgin." Within two years of
his offer to the Prior, came his first great opportunity of achieving
distinction. This was a commission from the Confraternity of St. Mark,
and with the "Miracle of the Slave" he sprang at once to the highest
place.
The picture was universally admired, and was followed by three more
dealing with the patron saint. At forty he married happily a beautiful
young girl, Faustina dei Vescovi, or Episcopi, as it is indifferently
given, the daughter of a noble family of the mainland. Tradition has
always pointed to the girl in blue in the "Golden Calf" as her portrait,
while it is easy to recognise Tintoretto himself in the black-bearded
giant, who helps to carry the idol. His house at this time was somewhere
in the Parrocchia dell' Orto, and there, during the next fourteen years,
eight children were born, of whom the two eldest, Domenico and Marietta,
attained distinction in their father's profession. Another great
event, which profoundly influenced his life, was the beginning of his
connection in 1560 with the Scuola di San Rocco, the great confraternity
which was devoted to combating the ravages of the plague and to
succouring the families of its victims. His work for this lasted to the
end of his life and is his most distinguished memorial.
The palace to which the Robusti family moved in 1574, and which was
inhabited by his descendants so late as 1830, can still be identified in
the Calle della Sensa. It is broken up into two parts, but it is evident
that it was a dwelling of some importance, a good specimen of Venetian
Gothic. It still bears marks of considerable decoration; the walls are
sheathed in marble plaques, and the first floor has rows of Gothic
windows in delicately carved frames and little balconies of fretted
marble. Zanetti, in 1771, gives an etching of a magnificent bronze
frieze cast from the master's design, which ran round the Grand Sala.
The family must have occupied the _piano nobile_ and let off the floors
they did not require.
Descriptions of the life led by the painter and his family are given
by Vasari, who knew him personally, and by Ridolfi, whose book was
published in 1646, and who must have known his children, several of whom
were still alive and proud of their father's fame. We hear of pleasant
evenings spent in the little palace, of the enthusiastic love of music,
Tintoretto himself and his daughter being highly gifted. Among the
_habitués_ were Zarlino, for twenty-five years chapel-master of St.
Mark's, one of the fathers of modern music; Bassano; and Veronese, who,
in spite of his love for magnificent entertainments, was often to be
found in Tintoretto's pleasant home. Poor Andrea Schiavone was always
welcome, and as time went on the house became the haunt of all the
cultured gentlemen and _litterati_ of Venice.
It is not difficult from the materials available to form a sufficiently
lively idea of this Venetian citizen of the sixteenth century, as father
and husband, host and painter. Ridolfi has collected a number of
anecdotes, which space forbids me to use, but which are all very
characteristic. We gather that he was a man of strong character,
generous, sincere and simple, decided in his ways, caring little for
the great world, but open-handed and hospitable under his own roof,
observant of men and manners, and sometimes rather brusque in dealing
with bores and offensive persons. Full of dry quiet humour and of
good-natured banter of his wife's little weaknesses. A man, too, of
upright conduct and free, as far as it can be ascertained, from any of
those laxities and infidelities, so freely quoted of celebrated men and
so easily condoned by his age. Art was Tintoretto's main preoccupation;
but he seems to have been a man of strong religious bias, making a close
study of the Bible, and turning naturally in his last days to those
truths with which his art had made him familiar, truths which he had
represented with that touch of mystic feeling which was the deepest part
of his nature.
His relations with the State commenced in 1574, when his offer to
present a superb painting of the Victory of Lepanto was made to and
accepted by the Council of Ten. Tintoretto was rewarded by a Broker's
patent, and between this and the "Paradiso," the work of his old age, he
executed a number of pictures for the Signoria. The only record of any
travels are confined to two journeys paid to Mantua, where he went in
the 'sixties and again in 1579 to see to the hanging of paintings done
for the Gonzaga, and of which the documents have been kept, though the
pictures have vanished. Tintoretto's last years were saddened by the
death of his beloved daughter, who had always been his constant
companion. He died in 1579 after a fortnight's illness and left a will,
which, together with that of his son, throws a good deal of light upon
the family history.
It is not easy to select from the vast quantity of work left by
Tintoretto. He is one of those painters whose whole life was passed in
his native city and who can only be adequately studied in that city.
Perhaps the first place in which to seek him, is the great church which
was the monument of his early prime. The "Last Judgment" was probably
inspired by that of Michelangelo, of which descriptions and sketches
must have reached the younger master, over whom the Florentine had
exercised so strong a fascination. Tintoretto's version impresses one as
that of a mind boiling with thoughts and visions which he pours out upon
the huge space. It depicts a terrible catastrophe, a scene of rushing
destruction, of forms swept into oblivion, of others struggling to the
light, of many beautiful figures and of a flood of air and light behind
the rushing water,--water which makes us almost giddy as we watch it.
The "Golden Calf" is a maturer production and includes some of the
loveliest women Tintoretto ever painted. We see too plainly the
planning, the device of concentrating interest on the idol by turning
figures and pointing fingers, but nothing can be imagined more supple
and queenly than the woman in blue, and the way the light falls on her
head and perfectly foreshortened arm shows to what excellence Tintoretto
had attained. The "Presentation" is a riper work. The drawing of the
flight of steps and of the groups upon them could not be bettered. The
little figure of the Virgin, prototype of the new dispensation, as she
advances to meet the representative of the old, thrills with mystic
feeling, yet the painter has contrived to retain the sturdy simplicity
of a child. The "St. Agnes," with its contrast of light and shade, of
strength made perfect in weakness, is of later date and was the
commission of Cardinal Contarini.
It is interesting to realise how Tintoretto, especially in the
"Presentation," has contrived, while using the traditional episodes, to
infuse so strong an imaginative sense. The contrast of age and youth,
the joy of the Gentiles, the starlike figure of the child surrounded by
shadows, convey an emotional feeling, in harmony with the nature of the
scene.
Next let us group together the miracles in the history of St. Mark. One
of the qualities which strikes us most in the "Miracle of the Slave" is
its strong local colour. It tells of Titian and Bonifazio and is unlike
Tintoretto's later style. The colours are glowing and gem-like;
carnations, orange-yellows, deep scarlet, and turquoise-blue. The
crimson velvet of the judge's dress is finely relieved against a
blue-green sky, and Tintoretto has kept that instinctive fire and dash
which culminates at once and without effort in perfect action, "as a
bird flies, or a horse gallops." It startled the quiet members of the
Guild, and at the first moment they hesitated to accept it. The "Rescue
of the Saracen" and the "Transportation of the Body" are more in the
golden-brown manner to which he was moving, but it is in the "Finding
of the Body" (Brera) that he rises to the highest emotional pitch. The
colossal form of the saint, expanding with life and power as he towers
in the spirit above his own lifeless clay, draws all eyes to him and
seems to fill the barrel-roofed hall with ease and energy. Every part of
the vault is flooded by his life-giving energy, and here Tintoretto
deals with light and shade with full mastery.
As we follow Tintoretto's career, it is borne in upon us how little
positive colour it takes to make a great colourist. The whole Venetian
School, indeed, does not deal with what we understand as bright colour.
Vivid tints are much more characteristic of the Flemish and the
Florentine, or, let us say, of the painters of to-day. Strong, crude
colours are to be seen on all sides in the Salon or the Royal Academy,
but they are absent from the scheme of sombre splendour which has
given the Venetians their title to fame. This is especially true of
Tintoretto, and it becomes more so as he advances. His gamut becomes
more golden-brown and mellow; the greys and browns and ivories combine
in a lustrous symphony more impressive than gay tints, flooded with
enveloping shadow and illumined by flashes of iridescent light. Another
noticeable feature is the way in which he puts on his oil-colour, so
that it bears the direct impression of the painter's hand. The
Florentines had used flat tints, opaque and with every brush-mark
smoothed away; but as the later Venetians covered large spaces with
oil-colour, they no longer sought to dissimulate the traces of the
brush, and light, distance, movement, were all conveyed by the turns and
twists and swirls with which the thin oil-colour was laid on. Look at
the power of touch in such a picture as the "Death of Abel"; we see this
spontaneity of execution actually forming part of the emotion with which
the picture is charged. The concentrated hate of the one figure, the
desperate appeal of the other, the lurid note of the landscape, gain
their emotion as much from the impetuous brush-work as from the more
studied design. We come closest to the painter's mind in the Scuola
di San Rocco. He had already been employed in the church, and there
remains, darkened and ruined by damp, the series illustrative of the
career of S. Roch, patron saint of sufferers from the plague. When the
great Halls of Assembly were to be decorated in 1560, the confraternity
asked a conclave of painters, among whom were Veronese and Andrea
Schiavone, to prepare sketches for competition. When they assembled to
display their designs, Tintoretto swept aside a cartoon from the ceiling
of the refectory and discovered a finished picture, the "S. Roch in
Glory," which still holds its place there. Neither the other artists nor
the brethren seem to have approved of this unconventional proceeding,
but he "hoped they would not be offended; it was the only way he knew."
Partly from the displeased withdrawal of some of the rest, but partly
also from the excellence of the work, the commission fell to Tintoretto,
and after two years' work he was received into the order, and was
assigned an annual provision of 100 ducats (£50) a year for life, being
bound every year to furnish three pictures.