The beginning of the sixteenth century, a period remarkable for the
general developement of Italian genius, was peculiarly distinguished by
the appearance of four great painters, who attained a perfection, since
unequalled, in different departments of their art. Form and sublimity of
conception were the attributes of M. Angelo; expression and propriety of
invention were among the prominent excellencies of Raffaelle; colour was
the strength of Titian; and harmony, founded on light and shade, chiefly
characterised Correggio. Antonio Allegri was born in 1493, or 1494; the
name of his birth-place superseded that of his family, and he has been
celebrated under the name of Antonio da Correggio. He was the son of
Pellegrino Allegri, a merchant of some property, and his lineage, which
was long doubtful, has been traced with sufficient accuracy by his
latest biographer, Pungileoni. The family name was sometimes Latinised
to Lætus and de Allegris, and again Italianised to Lieto, which accounts
for the various inscriptions on Correggio’s pictures. Till the
researches of the author above-named, who supplied, as far as possible,
what Mengs had left imperfect, the most contradictory accounts were
repeated respecting the family, the fortunes, and even the precise time
of the birth and death of Correggio. The story of his extreme poverty,
in particular, has been often copied without examination from Vasari;
but, as Fuseli observes, “considering the public works in which
Correggio was employed, the prices he was paid for them, compared with
the metropolitan prices of Raffaelle himself, it is probable that his
circumstances kept pace with his fame, and that he was nearer to
opulence than want.” It is still doubtful under whom he studied; but, as
his uncle Lorenzo was a painter, it is probable that Antonio learned the
rudiments of art from him; and a single specimen extant of one Antonio
Bartolotto, a contemporary master, is so much in the style of Correggio,
as to justify the conjecture that the example, at least, of the elder
painter was not without its effect. The residence of Andrea Mantegna at
no greater distance than Mantua, has perhaps led some writers to rank
Correggio among his scholars; but his death, when Correggio was only
thirteen years of age, renders the supposition improbable. That
Correggio studied the works of Mantegna is most certain: his fondness
for foreshortening was probably derived from that master; nor should it
be forgotten, that the school of Andrea was celebrated after his death,
and was still continued by his sons Francesco and Lodovico. Vedriani
mentions another master, Francesco Bianchi, of Modena, but with as
little certainty as the rest. The peculiar _impasto_[3] which
distinguishes the pictures of Correggio, a mode of execution which he
carried to sudden perfection, and which has never since been surpassed,
is less to be recognised, as Lanzi supposes, in the manner of Mantegna
than in that of Lionardo da Vinci; and even the chiaro-scuro of
Correggio, however enlarged and improved, is manifestly derived from the
same source. The art of foreshortening on ceilings, called by the
Italians “_il di sotto in su_,” was also practised in the Mantuan school
before Correggio; whether in imitation of the celebrated ceiling of
Melozzo da Forlì, the first known effort of the kind, painted in Rome in
1472, it is impossible to say.
Footnote 3:
_Impasto_ is literally an impasting or thick application of the
colour. The peculiarity of Correggio’s method is, that this impasto is
solid without roughness of surface, and blended without heaviness or
opacity. Sir Joshua Reynolds says, “His (Correggio’s) colour and mode
of finishing approach nearer to perfection than those of any other
painter.”
Among the earliest works of Correggio, Lanzi mentions some frescoes at
Mantua, supposed to have been done while the artist was in the school of
the sons of Mantegna; but a very feeble tradition is the only ground for
this supposition. The same author speaks of more than one Madonna in the
Ducal Gallery at Modena, as belonging to this early period. A
considerable picture, painted by Correggio when eighteen years of age,
and the undoubted work of his hand, is preserved at Dresden; it was
originally done for the church of S. Niccola, at Carpi. It represents
the Virgin seated on a throne, surrounded by various saints; the
inscription is, “Antonio de Allegris.” The colouring of this picture, as
Mengs observes, is in a style between that of Perugino and Lionardo da
Vinci. The head of the Virgin, he adds, greatly resembles the manner of
Lionardo; the folds of the drapery appear as if done by Mantegna, that
is, in the mode of encircling the limbs, but they are less hard, and are
in a larger style. Two pictures painted about the same time are
mentioned, and somewhat differently described, by Tiraboschi and Lanzi.
One was an altar-piece for a church at Correggio, representing various
saints; it was blackened and injured by a varnish, and removed from the
altar as useless, a copy being substituted in its place. The original
has been since cleaned, and according to Lanzi is recognised as an early
work of the master. The other was an altar-piece, in three compartments,
the centre subject of which was a repose of the Holy Family. The two
wings, representing two saints, are lost; but the Holy Family is
probably the picture now in the Florence Gallery, attributed by Barry to
Correggio, and only doubtful, in the opinion of some connoisseurs, from
its dryness of manner, as compared with the later works of the master. A
picture belonging to the Duke of Sutherland, and formerly in the Orleans
gallery, representing a muleteer and other figures, is supposed by some
to be an early work of Correggio, but it has none of the hardness of the
Carpi altar-piece to warrant this conjecture.
In the picture in the Florence Gallery of the Madonna adoring her
Infant, and in the _Noli me tangere_ of the Escurial, to which Lanzi
adds a Marsyas, in the possession of the Marchese Litta of Milan, the
artist already approached that excellent style, which has been
designated by the epithet ‘Correggiesque.’ The Marsyas is mentioned in
the catalogue of Charles I. The two small pictures of the marriage of
St. Catherine, one in the gallery at St. Petersburgh, the other in that
of Naples, belong to the same period. In that preserved at St.
Petersburgh, the name of Allegri is translated to Lieto; the date is
1517. The larger, and probably later picture of this subject, with the
addition of the figure of St. Sebastian, is in the Louvre. The
celebrated picture of S. Giorgio, now at Dresden, has been considered to
belong to this period. It was painted for the confraternity of S. Pietro
Martire, at Modena. This work, containing many figures, and among the
rest some children, in the peculiarly graceful manner of Correggio,
which were afterwards the admiration of Guido, has all the excellencies
of the master, except that magic of chiaro-scuro for which he was
subsequently so celebrated. It may be remarked, that the sweetness of
expression in Correggio’s children and women was probably derived from
Lionardo da Vinci, as certain peculiarities of resemblance are to be
traced between them.
In 1519, Correggio married Girolama Merlini, from whom Pungileoni
supposes the Madonna, called the Zingarella, to have been painted. She
was a lady of birth and condition, and brought him a sufficient dowry;
and this is an additional proof of the incorrectness of the assertions
of Vasari, respecting the extreme poverty of the painter. It must be
remembered too, that from this time, when he was about twenty-five years
of age, his employment constantly increased; and from the nature of the
works he was engaged in, it is quite evident that he was reckoned the
best painter in Lombardy.
About this period Correggio began his career in Parma, and his first
paintings there were the admirable frescoes in the monastery of S.
Paolo. A particular and most satisfactory account of these has been
published by Padre Affò. The reputation which this performance gained
him, induced the monks of S. Giovanni to employ him in the decoration of
their church. The works executed by Correggio on this occasion are in
his grandest manner: the Cupola represents the ascension of Christ; the
figures of the Apostles, of gigantic size, occupy the lower part. The
subject in the Tribune was the Coronation of the Virgin. It was so
esteemed, that when that part of the church was demolished to enlarge
the choir, the design was repainted for the new Tribune by Cesare
Aretusi, according to some, from a copy by Annibale Caracci. The
principal group of the original was fortunately saved, and is still to
be seen in the Library at Parma; its grandeur of invention and treatment
classes it among the highest productions of the art. Round the central
group were some figures and heads of angels. The fragments of these were
dispersed when the Tribune was destroyed; and the portions of frescoes
by Correggio, which exist in various collections, are probably a part of
these ruins.
Those who contend that Correggio had visited Rome, suppose that he may
have caught some inspiration from the works of M. Angelo; and Ratti
imagines, that the Last Judgment was seen and imitated by him; but this
work was not begun till after the death of Correggio. Lanzi smiles at
the mistake of the author just mentioned; but if Correggio visited Rome,
which, on the whole, does not appear probable, he may have seen the
ceiling of the Capella Sistina, painted in 1511; and this is more likely
to have inspired him than the Last Judgment, even supposing that he
could have seen both. There is, however, a remarkable difference between
the treatment of the cupolas of Correggio and that of the ceiling of M.
Angelo (even setting aside the well-known distinctions of their taste in
design), and the execution in both the examples alluded to, is exactly
analogous to the styles of the two painters. M. Angelo, though a master
of foreshortening, has not supposed his figures to be _above_ the eye,
but _opposite_ to it, so that they are still intelligible when seen in
any other situation, as for instance, when copied in an engraving.
Correggio, on the other hand, always aimed at giving the perspective
appearance of figures above the eye; and the violent foreshortening,
which was the consequence, renders his figures unintelligible, because
improbable, except in their original situation, where their effect,
aided by his light and shade, must undoubtedly have been astonishing.
Nevertheless, if the end and perfection of the art is to meet the
impressions of nature by corresponding representation, and to embody the
remembered appearances of things, it is quite evident that
foreshortening on ceilings, as it necessarily presents the human figure,
and indeed all objects, in a mode absolutely foreign to our experience,
must in the same degree depart from the legitimate end of imitation, and
can only excite wonder at the artist’s skill. The difference of
treatment alluded to belongs in other respects to two distinct views of
the art. M. Angelo aimed at the real and permanent qualities of whatever
he represented; a taste derived from his knowledge of sculpture, and
certainly, as producing a most intelligible style of art, more nearly
allied to the principles of the Greeks. Correggio, on the contrary,
loved all the attributes of appearance and illusion; his skill in the
management of aërial perspective, and the magic of his chiaro-scuro, by
which he secured space, relief, and gradation, are qualities less allied
to the reality and perspicuity which characterise the grandest style of
the formative arts in general, (as opposed to the vagueness of poetical
description,) than to the specific excellencies which distinguish
painting from sculpture. Even his colour, true as it is, is still
subordinate to his light and shade. It is with reference to the uniting
and blending principle of light and shade, which presents differences of
degree, but not of kind, that the term harmony has been so often
employed as describing the characteristic style of Correggio, and the
expression is quite distinct from that harmony (the commoner
acceptation) which is often applied to the balance and opposition of
colours. In the same church of S. Giovanni were the pictures of the
Deposition from the Cross, and the Martyrdom of S. Placido and Sta.
Flavia, which were taken to Paris; and on the outside of a chapel are
the remains of a grand figure of St. John, in fresco. The well-known
Madonna della Scodella, and a fresco of a Virgin and Child, in the
Capella della Scala, were perhaps painted about this time. The frescoes
of S. Giovanni occupied Correggio from 1520 to 1523. The celebrated
picture of the Nativity, generally called the Notte, now at Dresden,
appears to have been begun in the interval, as the agreement respecting
it bears the date of 1522; but it was not placed in the church of S.
Prospero at Reggio, for which it was destined, till 1530. The Notte is
the picture most frequently referred to as a specimen of that harmony,
founded on the skilful management of light and shade, in which Correggio
is unrivalled. The source of the picturesque in this work, the emanation
of the light from the infant Christ, is at the same time sublime as an
invention. “The idea,” as Opie observes, “has been seized with such
avidity, and produced so many imitations, that no one is accused of
plagiarism. The real author is forgotten, and the public, accustomed to
consider this incident as naturally a part of the subject, have long
ceased to inquire when, or by whom, it was invented.” Even the angels in
the upper part of the picture still receive light from the infant, and
the attention is thus constantly directed to the principal subject. The
same end is very happily answered by a shepherdess, shading her eyes
with her hand, as if dazzled by the light: this figure is particularly
mentioned by Vasari. It is remarkable that the same feeling for
gradation in the mutable effects of light and shade, displays itself in
this composition in the rapid perspective diminution of the figures. The
shepherd in the foreground is quite gigantic, compared with the more
distant figures; and the effect of proximity and distance, and the space
of the picture, is greatly aided by this contrivance. The same principle
is observable in Correggio’s cupolas.
The commission for the St. Jerome, placed in the church of S. Antonio
Abbate, at Parma, in 1528, one of the artist’s finest works, was given
in 1523. There is a copy of this picture by Lodovico Caracci in the
Bridgewater Gallery. The attitude and expression of the Magdalen are
justly celebrated: she is represented paying her homage to the infant
Christ, by pressing his foot against her cheek. The St. Sebastian, now
at Dresden, one of the most striking specimens of Correggio’s magic
chiaro-scuro, is supposed by Pungileoni to belong to this period. This
picture, like the Notte, is remarkable for an exquisite truth of tint in
the passages from light to dark. The infinite gradations of chiaro-scuro
are rendered still more mysterious from this truth of colour in the
half-tints and shadows, and, as in nature, the spectator is soon
unconscious of the presence of shade. These imperceptible transitions
are confined to the treatment of light and shade, and contrast finely
with the pronounced differences of local colour. In this respect the
style of Correggio is very different from the system of blending, or, as
it is called, breaking the colours: the contrast of hues is undoubtedly
mitigated by the negative nature of his shade; but though fully alive to
the value of general tone, of which the St. Sebastian is a powerful
instance, he seems never to have lost sight of the principle, that the
office of colour is to distinguish, and that of light and shade to
unite—the first being proper to each object, the second common to all
objects.
The peculiar softness for which Correggio is distinguished, is also to
be traced to his feeling for the richness and union produced by shade;
but he is by no means uniformly soft, like some of his imitators; as,
for example, Vanderwerf, whose model seems to have been the Magdalen at
Dresden. The principal figures in Correggio’s pictures, or their
principal portions, are sometimes relieved in the most distinct manner;
as, for instance, the head of the Madonna in this very picture of St.
Sebastian, remarkable above all his works for its general softness of
outline. As in his light and shade the two extremes of bright and dark
are united by every minutest degree between them, so in his forms, every
gradation from absolute hardness to undefined and almost imperceptible
outline, is also to be observed. Variety in the intensities of shade
evidently involves variety in the precision of outlines; but the
distinctness of forms in Correggio’s finest works is also regulated by
their prominence, importance, or beauty. Lastly, characteristic
imitation is greatly aided by his discrimination in this particular.
Vasari justly commends Correggio’s peculiarly soft manner in painting
hair; but this extreme softness, so true a quality of the object, is
generally contrasted in his works with the character of some totally
different substance. Thus, in the Reclining Magdalen Reading, the print
of which is well known, the crystal vase, her usual attribute, placed
near her head, is painted with the utmost sharpness, and thus heightens
the beauty and truth of the hair, which is remarkable for its undulating
softness.
The fame which the frescoes of S. Giovanni procured for their author,
even in their commencement, led to his decorating the cathedral of
Parma; and the engagement respecting the works therein executed is dated
1522. The subject of the octagonal cupola of the cathedral is the
Assumption of the Virgin: a multitude of figures covered the vast
surface, and, when the work was in its best state, are described as
appearing to float in space. The foreshortenings in this cupola are such
as to make the figures appear altogether distorted, except when seen
from below, and Mengs himself was astonished at their apparent deformity
when he inspected them near. The figures of the Apostles and angels, in
various attitudes, occupy the lower portion of the cupola; and in four
lunettes underneath are represented the patron saints of the city, the
whole being supposed to be lighted by the glory from above. It is
evident that Correggio’s feeling for gradation dictated the invention
and treatment of his subject in many instances: the whole scale of light
and shade cannot be more happily or naturally available, than when the
light is supposed to emanate from a point, and gradually lose itself in
the opposite extremes; and it happens, that in every instance in which
this painter employed the principle, as in the cupolas, the Notte, the
St. Sebastian, the Christ in the Garden, &c., the subject itself gained
in sublimity. The difference between the cupola of the cathedral and
that of S. Giovanni, affords an additional proof of the tendency of
Correggio’s general taste as it became further developed. A grandeur
more allied to simplicity is the comparative characteristic of the
latter, while in the cathedral the multitude of figures, the variety of
arrangement and attitude, and the richness and splendor of the light and
shade, are calculated to affect the imagination as with a dazzling
vision. It has been justly observed by Fuseli, that Correggio’s
treatment of this cupola is “less epic or dramatic than ornamental.” It
must, however, be remembered, that the surface he had to cover, the
interior of a high cupola, could hardly have been occupied by subjects
in which form on expression, as predominant qualities, could have
produced their effect when seen from below. The only mode which remained
was assuredly altogether adapted to the genius of Correggio: space,
gradation, chiaro-scuro, were not only the means most likely to be
effective in such a situation, but they were precisely the excellencies
in which he was pre-eminent. Nevertheless, the example was a seducing
one, and was likely to be followed where local circumstances would not
so entirely warrant it; and, as the author above quoted observes, “if
the cupola of Correggio be, in its kind, unequalled by earlier or
succeeding plans, if it leave far behind the effusions of Lanfranco and
Pietro da Cortona, it was not the less their model; the ornamental style
of machinists dates not the less its origin from him.” In order to give
that true foreshortening which was calculated to produce illusion from
below, Correggio was assisted by the sculptor Begarelli, who supplied
him with small models in clay from which he drew. According to Ratti,
one of these was found on the cornice of the cupola by a Florentine
painter towards the close of the last century. Some of the drawings by
Correggio in the Lawrence collection are supposed to have been studies
made from these models. It has been asserted that Correggio himself
worked in marble; some figures in a group, by Begarelli, in the church
of Sta. Margherita, are ascribed to him, but on very slight grounds.
After all, it appears that he never entirely finished the work he had
undertaken to do in the cathedral. The Tribune was not begun, and even a
few figures in the lower part of the cupola are said to have been added
by Bedoli. The cause of this suspension of Correggio’s labours has been
attributed, with some probability, to the absurd criticisms of his
employers. It is said that they referred to Titian (who is supposed to
have visited Parma with the Emperor Charles V.) to decide whether they
should cancel the whole, and that the great Venetian rebuked their
ignorance, by pronouncing it to be the finest composition he had ever
seen.
Correggio ceased to work in the cathedral in 1530, about four years
before his death. A great number of his oil pictures are assigned to
this period, more indeed than he could have executed, and some of them
must therefore belong to an earlier time. Be the precise order of their
dates what it may, the quantity which Correggio did in his short life is
quite as astonishing as the multitude of Raffaelle’s productions,
especially when we consider the number of assistants employed by the
latter. Among his last works, Correggio painted two pictures for
Federigo, Duke of Mantua; the subjects were Leda, and Venus, according
to Vasari. The latter was probably the Mercury teaching Cupid to read,
in which composition Venus is introduced; or it may have been the
Jupiter and Antiope, now in the Louvre. Both are mentioned in the
catalogue of Charles I., as having come from Mantua; and the Antiope is
described as “a Sleeping Venus and Cupid, and a Satyr, &c., three entire
figures, so big as the life.” The original Leda, much mutilated, is now
at Potsdam; a repetition of the Danaë is in the Borghese palace in Rome;
the Io, a picture of the same class, is supposed to have been destroyed,
but repetitions of it exist in Vienna and in this country. The taste for
such subjects, which, in Correggio’s time, was encouraged by the example
of the great, is now reprobated as it deserves, and it is to be hoped
will never be revived; but, in reference to the tendency of the
painter’s taste and powers in the choice and treatment of subjects, it
must be evident that the effect of soft transitions of light and shade,
as opposed to the lively distinctness of colour and forms, is of itself
allied to the voluptuous. The principle was applied by Correggio, as we
have seen, in subjects of purity and sublimity: these, united with the
soothing spell of his chiaro-scuro, and with forms of grace and beauty,
excite a calm and pleasing impression by no means foreign to the end
proposed; but the application was unfortunately still more successful
where he united beauty and mystery in subjects addressed to very
different feelings.
The Magdalen Reading, now at Dresden; the Christ praying in the Garden,
in the possession of the Duke of Wellington; and the Ecce Homo; are all
celebrated pictures of the best time of Correggio. The Ecce Homo, and
the Mercury teaching Cupid to read, have lately been secured for the
National Gallery; the first came from the Colonna palace at Rome, the
other was purchased out of the collection of Charles I. by the Duke of
Alva, in whose family it remained till it became the property of Murat;
and a few years since it was restored to this country. The small picture
of the Virgin and Child, in the National Gallery, is also a pleasing
specimen of the master.
Vasari, who is silent as to the time of Correggio’s death, relates an
absurd story of the manner in which it happened, now scarcely worth
contradicting. According to him, the painter received a payment of sixty
crowns in copper, which he carried from Parma to Correggio, and caught a
fever in consequence from over-fatigue, of which he died. The sum thus
paid in copper is computed to exceed two hundredweight! This incident,
unobjectionable in a work of fiction, is introduced in an interesting
drama called ‘Correggio,’ by the Danish poet Oehlenschläger. The
researches of Pungileoni have proved that Correggio died in easy, if not
in affluent circumstances. The exclamations of Annibale Caracci, in some
of his letters, respecting the unhappy fate of Correggio, amount only to
regret that he was confined to a comparatively remote part of Italy, and
that he was not known in Rome or Florence, where his talents would
undoubtedly have been still better rewarded.
This great painter died almost suddenly, at his native place, of a
malignant fever, March 6, 1534, in the forty-first year of his age. He
was buried in the Franciscan convent of the Frati Minori at Correggio,
where the record of his death was found.
For a full account of Correggio and his works, the history of
Pungileoni, above mentioned, may be consulted. It was published at
Parma, in three octavo volumes, in 1817, 1818, and 1821. The best
account in English is contained in an anonymous work, entitled,
“Sketches of the Lives of Correggio and Parmegiano.”—1823.
The original, from which our engraving is taken, is a face painted on
the wall adjoining the Cathedral door at Parma, by Correggio himself,
from which it was copied, with the necessary additions to suit it for an
engraving, by J. B. Davis, Esq.
[Illustration:
[Virgin and Child.]
]
[Illustration: