TINTORETTO (_continued_)
The first portion of the vast building that was finished was the
Refectory, but in examining the scheme, it is perhaps more convenient to
leave it to its proper place, which is the climax. Before beginning,
Tintoretto must have had the whole thing planned, and we cannot doubt
that he was influenced by the Sixtine Chapel and recalled its plan and
significance; the old dispensation typifying the new, the Old Testament
history vivified by the acts of Christ. The main feature of the harmony
which it is only reasonable to suppose governs the whole building, is
its dedication to S. Roch, the special patron of mercy. The principal
paintings of the Upper Hall are therefore concerned with acts of divine
mercy and deliverance, and even the monochromes bear upon the central
idea. On the roof are the three most important miracles of mercy
performed on behalf of the Chosen People. The paintings on roof and
walls are linked together. The "Fall of Man" at one end of the Hall,
the disobedient eating, corresponds with the obedient eating of the
Passover at the other, and is interdependent with the Manna in the
Wilderness, the Last Supper, and the Miracle of the Loaves. The Miracles
of satisfied thirst are represented by "Moses striking the Rock," Samson
drinking from the jawbone and the waters of Meribah. The Baptism and
other signs of the Advent of Christ and the Divine preparation, balance
events in the early life of Moses. In the Refectory which opens from the
Great Hall, we come to the "Crucifixion," the crowning act of mercy,
surrounded by the events which immediately succeeded it, and typified
immediately above in the Central Hall, by the lifting up of the Brazen
Serpent. The miracles include six of refreshment and succour, two of
miraculous restoration to health, and two of deliverance from danger.
The whole scheme has been worked out in detail in my book on
"Tintoretto."
In the working out of his great scheme, Tintoretto is impatient of
hackneyed and traditional forms; he must have a reading of his own, and
one which appeals to his imagination. We see that passion for movement
which distinguishes his early work. "Moses striking the Rock" is a
figure instinct with purpose and energy. The water bounds forth, living,
life-giving, the people strain wildly to reach it. His figures are
sometimes found fault with, as extravagant in gesture, but the attitudes
were intended to be seen and to arrest attention from far below, and we
must not forget that the painter's models were drawn from a Southern
race, to whom emphasis of action is natural. Tintoretto, it may be
conceded, is on certain occasions, generally when dealing with accessory
figures, inclined to excess of gesture; it is the defect of his
temperament, but when he has a subject that carries him away he is
sincere and never violent in spirit. Titian is cold compared to him; his
colour, however effective, is calculated, whereas Tintoretto's seems to
permeate every object and to soak the whole composition. To quote a
recent critic: "He chose to begin, if possible, with a subject charged
with emotion. He then proceeded to treat it according to its nature,
that is to say, he toned down and obscured the outlines of form and
mapped out the subject instead in pale or sombre masses of light and
shade. Under the control of this powerful scheme of chiaroscuro, the
colouring of the composition was placed, but its own character, its
degree of richness and sobriety, was determined by the kind of emotion
belonging to the subject. To use colour in this way, not only with
emotional force, but with emotional truth, is to use it to perform one
of the greatest functions of art."[5]
[5] "Venice and the Renaissance," _Edinburgh Review_, 1909.
So in the Crucifixion it is not so much the aspect of the groups, the
pathos of the faces or gestures, that tells, but it is the mystery and
gloom in which the whole scene is muffled, the atmosphere into which we
are absorbed, the sense of livid terror conveyed by the brooding light
and shadow, that makes us feel how different the rendering is from any
other. In the "Christ before Pilate" the head and figure of Christ are
not particularly impressive in themselves, but the brilliant light
falling on the white robes and coursing down the steps supplies dignity
and poetry; the slender white figure stands out like a shaft of light
against the lurid and troubled background. Again, in the "Way to
Golgotha" the falling evening gleam, the wild sky, the deep shadow of
the ravine, throw into relief the quiet form, detached in look and
feeling, as of one upborne by the spirit far above the brutal throng.
Nowhere does that spiritual emotion find deeper expression than in the
"Visitation." The passion of thanksgiving, the poignancy of mother-love,
throb through the two women, who have been travelling towards one
another, with a great secret between them, and who at length reach the
haven of each other's love and knowledge. Here, too, the dying light,
the waving tree, the obliteration of form, and the feeling of mystery
make a deep appeal to the sensuous apprehension. We find it again and
again; the great trees sway and whisper in the gathering darkness as the
Virgin rides through the falling evening shadows, clasping her Babe, and
in that most moving of all Tintoretto's creations, the "S. Mary of
Egypt," the emotional mood of Nature's self is brought home to us. The
trees that dominate the landscape are painted with a few "strokes like
sabre cuts"; the landscape, given with apparent carelessness, yet
conveying an indescribable sense of space and solemnity, unfolds itself
under the dying day; and in solitary meditation, thrilling with ecstasy,
sits that little figure, whose heart has travelled far away to commune
with the Spirit, "whose dwelling is the light of setting suns."
It is not possible in a short space to touch, even in passing, on all
the many scenes in these halls: the "Annunciation," with its marvellous
flight of cherubs, reminding us of the flight of pigeons in the Piazza,
and how often the old painter must have watched them; the "Temptation,"
contrasting the throbbing evil, the flesh that _must_ be fed, with the
calm of absolute purity; the "Massacre of the Innocents," for which the
horrors of sacked towns could have supplied many a parallel,--we have
not time to dwell on these, but we may notice how the artist has
overcome the difficulty of seeing clearly in the dark halls, by choosing
strong and varied effects of light for the most shadowed spaces, and we
can picture what the halls must have been like when they first glowed
from his hand, adorned with gilded fretwork and moulding, and hung with
opulent draperies, with the rose-red and purple of bishops' and
cardinals' robes reflected in the gleaming pavement.
[Illustration: _Tintoretto._ _Scuola di San Rocco._
S. MARY OF EGYPT.
(_Photo, Anderson._)]
Leonardo, by one supreme example, Tintoretto, by many renderings, have
made the "Last Supper" peculiarly their own in the domain of art. It
shows how strongly the mystic strain entered into the man's character,
that often as Tintoretto treated the subject, it never lost its interest
for him, and he never failed to find a fresh point of view. In that
in S. Polo, Christ offers the sacred food with a gesture of vehement
generosity. Placed as the picture is, to appeal to all comers to the
Mass, to afford them a welcome as they pass to the High Altar, it tells
of the Bread of Life given to all mankind. Tintoretto himself, painted
in the character of S. Paul, stands at one side, absorbed in meditation.
We need not insist again on the emotional value of the deep colours, the
rich creams and crimsons and the chiaroscuro. In his latest rendering,
in S. Giorgio Maggiore, he touches his highest point in symbolical
treatment. Some people are only able to see a theatrical, artificial
spirit in this picture, but at least, when we consider what deep
meditation Tintoretto had bestowed on his subjects, we may believe that
he himself was sincere and that he let himself go over what commended
itself as an entirely new rendering. "The Light shined in the Darkness,
and the Darkness comprehended it not." The supernatural is entering on
every side, but the feast goes on; the serving men and maids busy
themselves with the dishes; the disciples are inquiring, but not
agitated; none see that throng of heavenly visitants, pouring in through
the blue moonlight, called to their Master's side by the supreme
significance of His words. The painter has taken full advantage of the
opportunity of combining the light of the cresset lamp, pouring out
smoky clouds, with the struggling moonlight and the unearthly radiance,
in divers, yet mingling streams which fight against the surrounding
gloom. In the scene in the Scuola di S. Rocco the betrayal is the
dominating incident, and in San Stefano all is peace, and the Saviour
is alone with the faithful disciples.
[Illustration: _Tintoretto._
BACCHUS AND ARIADNE.
_Ducal Palace, Venice._
(_Photo, Anderson._)]
Though several of the large compositions ascribed to Tintoretto in
the Ducal Palace are only partly by him, or entirely by followers and
imitators, its halls are still a storehouse of his genius. There is much
that is fine about the great state pieces. In the "Marriage of St.
Catherine," the saint, in silken gown and long transparent veil, is an
exquisite figure. Tintoretto bathes all his pageantry in golden light
and air, and yet we feel that these huge official subjects, with the
prosaic old Doges introduced in incongruous company, neither stimulated
his imagination nor satisfied his taste. It is on the smaller canvases
that he finds inspiration. He never painted anything more lovely, more
perfect in design, or more gay and tender in idea, than the cycle in
the Ante-Collegio. The glowing light and exquisitely graded shadows upon
ivory limbs have a sensuous perfection and a refined, unselfconscious
joy such as is felt in hardly any other work, except the painter's own
"Milky Way" in the National Gallery. In all these four pictures the
feeling for design, a branch of art in which Tintoretto was past master,
is fully displayed. In the Bacchus and Ariadne all the principal lines,
the eyes and gestures, converge upon the tiny ring which is the symbol
of union between the goddess and her lover, between the queenly city and
the Adriatic sea. Or take "Pallas driving away Mars": see how the mass
into which the figures are gathered on the left adds strength to the
thrust of the goddess's arm, and what steadiness is given by that short
straight lance of hers, coming in among all the yielding curves. The
whole four are linked together in meaning: the call to Venice to reign
over the seas, her triumphant peace, with Wisdom guiding her council,
and her warriors forging arms in case of need. In conjunction with these
pictures are two small ones in the chapel, hardly less beautiful--St.
George with St. Margaret, and SS. Andrew and Jerome. It is difficult to
say whether the exultant St. George, the dignified young bishop, or the
two older saints are the more sympathetic creations, or the more
admirable, both in drawing and colour. The sense of space in both
settings is an added charm, and every scrap of detail, the leafy
boughs, the cross and crozier, is important to the composition.
There are many other striking examples, ranging all through Tintoretto's
life, of his untiring imagination. In the Salute is that "Marriage of
Cana," in which all the actors seem to swim in golden light. The sharp
silhouettes bring out an effect of radiant sunshine with which the hall
is flooded, and all the architectural lines lead our eyes towards the
central figure, placed at a distance. On that long canvas in the
Academy, kneel the three treasurers, pouring out their gold and bending
in homage before the Madonna and Child, who sit enthroned upon a broad
piazza, through the marble pillars of which a blue and distant landscape
shines. Grave senators in mulberry velvet and ermine kneel before the
Child, or hold counsel on Paduan affairs under the patronage of S.
Giustina. The "Crucifixion" (in S. Cassiano) is another triumph of the
painter's imaginative conception. The bold lines of the crosses, the
ladder, and the figures detach against a glorious sky, and the presence
of the moving, murmuring throng, of which, by the placing of the line of
sight, the spectator is made to form a part, is conveyed by the swaying
and crossing of the lances borne by the armed men who keep the ground.
There is a series, too, which deals with the Magdalen. She mourns her
dead in that solemn, restrained "Entombment," where the enfolding
shadows frame the cross against the sad dawn, which adorns the mortuary
chapel of S. Giorgio Maggiore; and the Pietà in the Brera, the long
lines of which add to the impression of tender repose, has its peace
broken by the passionate cry of the woman who loved much. Tintoretto's
ideas are exhaustless; he can paint the same scene in a dozen different
ways, and, in fact, the book of sketches lately acquired by the British
Museum shows as many as thirty trials dashed off for one subject, and
after all he uses one composed for something quite different. It is this
habit of throwing off red-hot essays, fresh from his brain, that has led
to the common but superficial judgment that Tintoretto was merely a
great improvisatore, whose successes came more or less by good luck. He
could, indeed, paint pictures at a pace at which many great masters
could only sketch, but he had already designed and considered and
rejected, doing with oil, ink, and paper what many of his contemporaries
did mentally. Such achievements as the Ante-Collegio cycle, the "House
of Martha and Mary," the "Marriage of Cana," the "Temptation of S.
Anthony," to name only a few, show a finish and perfection and a balance
of design which preclude the idea of their being lightly painted
pictures. When he was actually engaged, Tintoretto let himself go with
impetuous ardour, but we may feel assured he left nothing to chance,
though he had his own way of making sure of the result.
It is strange to hear people, as one does now and then, talking of the
"Paradiso" as "a splendid failure." It may be granted that the subject
is an impossible one for human art to realise, yet when all allowance
has been made for a lamentable amount of drying and blackening, it is
difficult to agree that Ruskin was all wrong in his admiration of that
thronging multitude, ordered and disciplined by the tides of light and
shadow, which roll in and out of the masses, resolving them into groups
and single figures of almost matchless beauty and melting away into a
sea of radiant æther, which tells us of the boundless space which
surrounds the serried ranks of the Blessed.
Tintoretto was seventy-eight when it was allotted to him, and it was the
last great effort of his mind and hand. Studies for it are preserved
both at the Louvre and at Madrid, and it is evident that the painter
has framed it upon the thought of Dante's mystic rose. The circles and
many of the figures can be traced in the poem, and the idea of the
Eternal Light streaming through the leaves of the rose dominates the
composition. It is appropriate that it should have been his last great
work, as it was also the greatest attempt at composition ever made by a
master of the Venetian School.
There is no room here to study Tintoretto as a painter of battlepieces,
though from the time he painted the "Battle of Lepanto," for the Council
of Ten, he often returned to such subjects. His two series for the
Gonzaga included several, and the Ducal Palace still possesses examples.
The impetuosity of his style stood him in good stead, and he never fails
to bring in graceful and striking figures.
His portraits are hardly equal to Titian's intellectual grasp or
fine-grained colour, but they are extraordinarily characteristic. He
prefers to paint men rather than women, and he painted hundreds--all the
great persons of his time who lived in and visited Venice. The Venetian
portrait by this time was expected to be more than a likeness and more
than a problem. It was to please the taste as a picture, to interest and
to satisfy criticism. Tintoretto, like Lotto, gets behind the scenes,
and we see some mood, some aspect of the sitter that he hardly expected
to show. His penetration is not equal to Lotto's, but he deals with his
sitters with an observation which pierces below the surface.
In criticising Tintoretto, men seem often unable to discriminate between
the turgid and melodramatic, and the spontaneous and temperamental. The
first all must abhor, but the last is sincere and deserves to be
respected. It is by his best that we must judge a man, and taking his
best and undoubtedly authentic work, no one has left a larger amount
which will stand the test of criticism. As an exponent of lofty and
elevated central ideas, which unify all parts of his composition,
Tintoretto stands with the greatest imaginative minds. The intellectual
side of life was exemplified in Florentine art, but the Renaissance
would have been a one-sided development if there had not arisen a body
of men to whom emotion and the gift of sensuous apprehension seemed of
supreme value, and at the very last there arose with him one who, to
their philosophy of feeling and the mastery of their chosen medium,
added the crowning glory of the imaginative idea.
PRINCIPAL WORKS
Augsburg. Christ in the House of Martha and Mary.
Berlin. Portraits; Madonna and Saints; Luna and the Hours; Procurator
before S. Mark.
Dresden. Lady in Black; The Rescue; Portraits.
Florence. Pitti: Portraits of Men; Luigi Cornaro; Vincenzo Zeno.
Uffizi: Portrait of Himself; Admiral Venier; Portrait of Old
Man; Jacopo Sansovino; Portrait.
Hampton Court. Esther before Ahasuerus; Nine Muses; Portrait of
Dominican; Knight of Malta.
London. S. George and the Dragon; Christ washing Feet of Disciples;
Origin of Milky Way.
Bridgewater House: Entombment; Portrait.
Madrid. Battle on Land and Sea; Solomon and the Queen of Sheba;
Susanna and the Elders; Finding of Moses; Esther before
Ahasuerus; Judith and Holofernes.
Milan. Brera: S. Helena, Saints and Donors; Finding of the Body of S.
Mark (E.).
Paris. Susanna and the Elders; Sketch for Paradise; Portrait of
Himself.
Rome. Capitol: Baptism; Ecce Homo; The Flagellation.
Colonna: Adoration of the Holy Spirit; Old Man playing Spinet;
Portraits.
Turin. The Trinity.
Venice. Academy: S. Giustina and Three Senators; Madonna with Saints
and Treasurers, 1566; Portraits of Senators; Deposition;
Jacopo Soranzo, 1564 (still attributed to Titian); Andrea
Capello (E.); Death of Abel; Miracle of S. Mark, 1548; Adam
and Eve; Resurrected Christ blessing Three Senators; Madonna
and Portraits; Crucifixion; Resurrection; Presentation in
Temple.
Palazzo Ducale: Doge Mocenigo commended to Christ by S. Mark;
Doge da Ponte before the Virgin; Marriage of S. Catherine;
Doge Gritti before the Virgin.
Ante-Collegio: Mercury and Three Graces; Vulcan's Forge;
Bacchus and Ariadne; Pallas resisting Mars, abt. 1578.
Ante-room of Chapel: SS. George, Margaret, and Louis;
SS. Andrew and Jerome.
Senato: S. Mark presenting Doge Loredano to the Virgin.
Sala Quattro Porte: Ceiling. Ante-room: Portraits; Ceiling,
Doge Priuli with Justice. Passage to Council of Ten:
Portraits; Nobles illumined by Holy Spirit.
Sala del Gran Consiglio: Paradise, 1590.
Sala dello Scrutino: Battle of Zara.
Palazzo Reale: Transportation of Body of S. Mark; S. Mark
rescues a Shipwrecked Saracen; Philosophers.
Giovanelli Palace: Battlepiece; Portraits.
S. Cassiano: Crucifixion; Christ in Limbo; Resurrection.
S. Giorgio Maggiore: Last Supper; Gathering of Manna;
Entombment (in Mortuary Chapel).
S. Maria Mater Domini: Finding of True Cross.
S. Maria dell' Orto: Last Judgment (E.); Golden Calf (E.);
Presentation of Virgin (E.); Martyrdom of S. Agnes.
S. Polo: Last Supper; Assumption of Virgin.
S. Rocco: Annunciation; Pool of Bethesda; S. Roch and the
Beasts; S. Roch healing the Sick; S. Roch in Campo d' Armata;
S. Roch consoled by an Angel.
Scuola di S. Rocco: Lower Hall, all the paintings on wall.
Staircase: Visitation. Upper Hall: all the paintings on walls
and ceiling. Refectory: Crucifixion, 1565; Christ before
Pilate; Ecce Homo; Way to Golgotha; Ceiling, 1560.
Salute: Marriage of Cana, 1561; Martyrdom of S. Stephen.
S. Silvestro: Baptism.
S. Stefano: Last Supper; Washing of Feet; Agony in Garden.
S. Trovaso: Temptation of S. Anthony.
Vienna. Susanna and the Elders; Sebastian Venier; Portraits of
Procurators, Senators, and Men (fifteen in all); Old Man and
Boy; Portrait of Lady.