the Greek and Latin Languages;’ full of learning and curious research:
the second, entitled ‘Ciceronianus.’ In this lively piece he ridicules
those Italian pedants who banished every word or phrase unauthorized by
Cicero. His satire, however, is not directed against Cicero’s style, but
against the servility of mere imitation. In a subsequent preface to a
new edition of the Tusculan Questions, he almost canonizes Cicero, both
for his matter and expression. Julius Scaliger had launched more than
one philippic against him for his treatment of the Ciceronians; but he
considered this preface as a kind of penance for former blasphemies, and
admitted it as an atonement to the shade of the great Roman. Erasmus had
at this time fixed his residence at Bâsle. He was advancing in years,
and complained in his letters of poverty and sickness. Pope Paul III.,
notwithstanding his Colloquies, professed high regard for him, and his
friends thought that he was likely to obtain high preferment. Of this
matter Erasmus writes thus: “The Pope had resolved to add some learned
men to the college of Cardinals, and I was named to be one. But to my
promotion it was objected, that my state of health would unfit me for
that function, and that my income was not sufficient.”
In the summer of 1536 his state of exhaustion became alarming. His last
letter is dated June 20, and subscribed thus: “Erasmus Rot. ægra manu.”
He died July 12, in the 59th year of his age, and was buried in the
cathedral of Bâsle. His friend Beatus Rhenanus describes his person and
manners. He was low of stature, but not remarkably short, well-shaped,
of a fair complexion, grey eyes, a cheerful countenance, a low voice,
and an agreeable utterance. His memory was tenacious. He was a pleasant
companion, a constant friend, generous and charitable. Erasmus had one
peculiarity, humorously noticed by himself; namely, that he could not
endure even the smell of fish. On this he observed, that though a good
Catholic in other respects, he had a most heterodox and Lutheran
stomach.
With many great and good qualities, Erasmus had obvious failings. Bayle
has censured his irritability when attacked by adversaries; his editor,
Le Clerc, condemns his lukewarmness and timidity in the business of the
Reformation. Jortin defends him with zeal, and extenuates what he cannot
defend. “Erasmus was fighting for his honour and his life; being accused
of nothing less than heterodoxy, impiety, and blasphemy, by men whose
forehead was a rock, and whose tongue was a razor. To be misrepresented
as a pedant and a dunce is no great matter; for time and truth put folly
to flight: to be accused of heresy by bigots, priests, politicians, and
infidels, is a serious affair; as they know too well who have had the
misfortune to feel the effects of it.” Dr. Jortin here speaks with
bitter fellow-feeling for Erasmus, as he himself had been similarly
attacked by the high church party of his day. He goes on to give his
opinion, that even for his lukewarmness in promoting the Reformation,
much may be said, and with truth. “Erasmus was not entirely free from
the prejudices of education. He had some indistinct and confused notions
about the authority of the Catholic Church, which made it not lawful to
depart from her, corrupted as he believed her to be. He was also much
shocked by the violent measures and personal quarrels of the Reformers.
Though, as Protestants, we are more obliged to Luther, Melancthon, and
others, than to him, yet we and all the nations in Europe are infinitely
indebted to Erasmus for spending a long and laborious life in opposing
ignorance and superstition, and in promoting literature and true piety.”
To us his character appears to be strongly illustrated by his own
declaration, “Had Luther written truly every thing that he wrote, his
seditious liberty would nevertheless have much displeased me. I would
rather even err in some matters, than contend for the truth with the
world in such a tumult.” A zealous advocate of peace at all times, it is
but just to believe that he sincerely dreaded the contests sure to rise
from open schism in the church. And it was no unpardonable frailty, if
this feeling were nourished by a temperament, which confessedly was not
desirous of the palm of martyrdom.
It is impossible to give the contents of works occupying ten volumes in
folio. They have been printed under the inspection of the learned Mr. Le
Clerc. The biography of Erasmus is to be found at large in Bayle’s
Dictionary, and the copious lives of Knight and Jortin.
[Illustration: From the bronze statue of Erasmus at Rotterdam.]
[Illustration:
_Engraved by W. Holl._
TITIAN.
_From the Picture of Titian & Aretin painted by Titian,
in his Majesty’s Collection at Windsor._
Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
]
[Illustration]
TITIAN.
On looking back to the commencement of the sixteenth century, by far the
most brilliant epoch of modern art, we cannot but marvel at the
splendour and variety of talent concentrated within the brief space of
half a century, or less. Michael Angelo, Raphael, Correggio, Titian, all
fellow-labourers, with many others inferior to these mighty masters, yet
whose works are prized by kings and nobles as their most precious
treasures—by what strange prodigality of natural gifts, or happy
combination of circumstances was so rare an assemblage of genius
produced in so short a time? The most obvious explanation is to be found
in the princely patronage then afforded to the arts by princes and
churchmen. By this none profited more largely or more justly than the
great painter, whose life it is our task to relate.
Tiziano Vecelli was born of an honourable family at Capo del Cadore, a
small town on the confines of Friuli, in 1480. He soon manifested the
bent of his genius, and at the age of ten was consigned to the care of
an uncle residing in Venice, who placed him under the tuition of
Giovanni Bellini, then in the zenith of his fame. The style of Bellini
though forcible is dry and hard, and little credit has been given to him
for his pupil’s success. It is probable, however, that Titian imbibed in
his school those habits of accurate imitation, which enabled him
afterwards to unite boldness and truth, and to indulge in the most
daring execution, without degenerating into mannerism. The elements of
his future style he found first indicated by Lionardo da Vinci, and more
developed in the works of Giorgione, who adopted the principles of
Lionardo, but with increased power, amenity, and splendour. As soon as
Titian became acquainted with this master’s paintings, he gave his whole
attention to the study of them; and with such success, that the portrait
of a noble Venetian named Barbarigo, which he painted at the age of
eighteen, was mistaken for the work of Giorgione. From that time, during
some years, these masters held an equal place in public esteem; but in
1507 a circumstance occurred which turned the balance in favour of
Titian. They were engaged conjointly in the decoration of a public
building, called the Fondaco de Tedeschi. Through some mistake that part
of the work which Titian had executed, was understood by a party of
connoisseurs to have been painted by Giorgione, whom they overwhelmed
with congratulations on his extraordinary improvement. It may be told to
his credit, that though he manifested some weakness in discontinuing his
intercourse with Titian, he never spoke of him without amply
acknowledging his merits.
Anxious to gain improvement from every possible source, Titian is said
to have drawn the rudiments of his fine style of landscape painting from
some German artists who came to Venice about the time of this rupture.
He engaged them to reside in his house, and studied their mode of
practice until he had mastered their principles. His talents were now
exercised on several important works, and it is evident, from the
picture of the Angel and Tobias, that he had already acquired an
extraordinary breadth and grandeur of style. The Triumph of Faith, a
singular composition, manifesting great powers of invention, amid much
quaintness of character and costume, is known by a wood engraving
published in 1508. A fresco of the Judgment of Solomon, for the Hall of
Justice at Vicenza, was his next performance. After this he executed
several subjects in the church of St. Anthony, at Padua, taken from the
miracles attributed to that saint.
These avocations had withdrawn him from Venice. On his return, in the
thirty-fourth year of his age, he was employed to finish a large picture
left imperfect by Bellini, or, according to some authorities, by
Giorgione, in the great Council Hall of Venice, representing the Emperor
Frederick Barbarossa on his knees before Pope Alexander III. at the
entrance of St. Mark’s. The Senate were so well satisfied with his
performance, that they appointed him to the office called La Senseria;
the conditions of which were, that it should be held by the best painter
in the city, with a salary of three hundred scudi, he engaging to paint
the portrait of each Doge on his election, at the price of eight scudi.
These portraits were hung in one of the public apartments of St. Mark.
At the close of 1514 Titian was invited to Ferrara by the Duke Alphonso.
For him he executed several splendid works; among them, portraits of the
Duke, and of his wife, and that celebrated picture of Bacchus and
Ariadne, now in our own National Gallery.
The first works executed by Titian after his return to Venice, prove
that he had already accomplished that union of grand design with
brilliant colouring, which was designated by Tintoret as the highest
perfection of painting. His immense picture of the Assumption, formerly
in the church of Santa Maria Gloriosa, and now in the Academy of Venice,
exhibits, in the opinion of some first-rate judges, various excellences,
such as have never been combined in any single performance, but by
Titian himself[5]. The Virgin, whose figure relieves dark on the
irradiated back-ground, seems to ascend amid a flood of glory. She is
surrounded and sustained by angels of ineffable beauty, and the
disciples below are personifications of apostolic grandeur. It will
scarcely be credited that the Monks, for whom this picture was painted,
objected to it on account of its apparent reality; but the voice of
public admiration soon made them sensible of its merits, and they
refused a large sum offered for it by the Imperial Ambassador. Such a
report of this work was made to Leo X. by Cardinal Bembo, that Titian
received an invitation to Rome from the Pontiff, with the offer of
honourable appointments. A similar proposal from Francis I. of France,
whose portrait he painted in 1515, he had already declined; but he
yielded to the temptation of visiting Rome, being not less anxious to
see the great works of contemporary genius, than the wonders of ancient
art. He did not, however, carry his purpose into effect at this time,
but remained at Venice; and thus secured to her the possession of those
noble works, which, when they were produced, formed the brightest
ornament of her power, and even now, when her other glories are set,
confer upon her an imperishable distinction.
Footnote 5:
The writer has been informed by Canova that this was his own opinion,
and that of Sir Thomas Lawrence.
To recompense in some degree his relinquishment of this invitation,
Titian was employed by the Senate to paint the Battle of Cadore, fought
between the Venetians and the Imperialists; a splendid production, which
perished when the Ducal Palace was burnt. About this time was painted
the fine altar-piece of the Pesari Family returning thanks to the Virgin
for a victory over the Turks. This picture, as an example of simple
grandeur, has been contrasted by Reynolds with the artificial splendour
of Rubens; and Fuseli alludes to it as constituting the due medium
between dry apposition and exuberant contrast. The sublime picture of S.
Pietro Martire was painted in 1523. Of this it is difficult to speak in
adequate terms, without the appearance of hyperbolical panegyric. The
composition is well known by engravings; but these convey only a faint
notion of the original, which unites the utmost magnificence of
historical design, with the finest style of landscape-painting. The
gorgeous hues of Titian’s colouring are attempered in this picture by an
impressive solemnity. The scene of violence and blood, though expressed
with energy, is free from contortion or extravagance; grandeur pervades
the whole, and even the figure of the flying friar has a character of
dignity rarely surpassed. Two pictures on the same subject, the one by
Domenichino, in the Academy of Bologna, the other by Giorgione, in our
National Gallery, if compared with that of Titian, convey a forcible
impression of the difference between first-rate genius and the finest
talents of a secondary order. The picture of Giorgione is, however, most
_Titianesque_ in colouring.
In 1526 the celebrated satirist Aretine, and Sansovino the sculptor,
came to reside in Venice. With these distinguished men Titian contracted
an intimacy, which was the source of great pleasure to him, and ceased
only with their lives. When Charles V. visited Bologna in 1529, Titian
was invited to that city, where he painted an equestrian portrait of the
Emperor. Charles, not only an admirer but a judge of art, was astonished
at a style of painting of which he had formed no previous conception; he
remunerated the artist splendidly, and expressed his determination never
to sit to any other master. On returning to Bologna in 1532, he summoned
Titian again to his court, and engaged him in many important works,
treating him on all occasions with extraordinary respect and regard. It
is affirmed, that in riding through Bologna he kept upon the artist’s
right hand, an act of courtesy which excited such displeasure among the
courtiers that they ventured upon a remonstrance. The answer given by
Charles is well known, and has been since ascribed to other monarchs: “I
have many nobles in my empire, but only one Titian.” On leaving Bologna,
Titian accompanied Frederic Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua, home to his own
state; where, besides painting portraits of the Duke and his brother the
Cardinal, he ornamented an apartment of the palace contiguous to the
rooms painted by Giulio Romano, with portraits of the twelve Cæsars,
taking his authorities from medals and antique marbles.
In passing through Parma, on the way to Mantua, he first saw the works
of Correggio, who had been engaged in painting the dome of the
cathedral. So little was that great man’s genius appreciated, and such
was the ignorance of his employers, that they had actually dismissed him
as inadequate to the task he had undertaken; nor was he allowed to
resume it, until the lavish admiration bestowed on his work by Titian,
had taught them better how to estimate his talents.
On returning to Venice, Titian found that a strong party had been raised
in favour of Pordenone. He expressed no slight indignation at the
attempt to exalt that painter to an equality with himself. Pordenone,
nevertheless, was an artist of considerable powers, although certainly
not qualified to compete with such an antagonist. The number of pictures
which Titian continued to execute, would far exceed our limits to
enumerate, and is so great as to excite astonishment; more especially as
there is little evidence in his works that he was much assisted by
inferior hands. In 1543, when Pope Paul III. visited Bologna, Titian
painted an admirable portrait of him, and received an invitation to
Rome. But he was unable to accept it, having engagements with the Duke
of Urbino, whose palace he accordingly enriched with portraits of
Charles V., Francis I., the Duke Guidobaldo, the Popes Sixtus IV.,
Julius II., and Paul III., the Cardinal of Lorraine, and Solyman,
Emperor of the Turks.
Truth, it appears, rather than embellishment, was sought for in the
portraits of those days. Titian’s portrait of Paul III. is executed with
uncompromising accuracy. The figure is diminutive and decrepit, but the
eyes have a look of penetrating sagacity. His Holiness was greatly
pleased with it; and, as a mark of his favour, made offer to the artist
of a valuable situation in a public department; which Titian declined,
upon finding that his emoluments were to be deducted from the income of
those who already held possession of it. He obtained, however, the
promise of a benefice for his son Pomponio. Aretine thought his friend
illiberally treated by Paul, and did not scruple to publish his opinion
on the subject.
In 1545, when the Venetian Senate was compelled by the public exigencies
to lay a general tax on the city, Titian was the only person exempted
from the impost,—a noble homage to genius, which attests at once the
liberality and the wisdom of that government. In this year, Titian
having completed his engagements with the Duke of Urbino, and being,
through the Cardinal Farnese, again invited to Rome, determined on a
visit to that city; and he set out, accompanied by his son Orazio,
several pupils, and a considerable number of domestics. He was received
at Urbino by the Duke Guidobaldo II., and splendidly entertained for
some days. On his departure, the Duke accompanied him from Urbino to
Pesaro, and from thence sent forward with him a suite of horses and
servants, as far as the gates of Rome. Here he was greeted with
corresponding honours, and lodged in the Belvedere Palace. Vasari was,
at this time, in the employment of Cardinal Farnese, and had the
gratification of attending the great artist about the city. Titian was
now engaged to paint a whole length portrait of Paul III., with the
Cardinal Farnese and Duke Ottavio in one group. This picture is at
present in the Museo Borbonico; and is a fine example of that highest
style of portrait painting, which is scarce less difficult, or less
elevated as a branch of art, than historical composition. An “Ecce
homo,” painted at the same time, does not appear to have excited that
admiration which his works usually obtained. The taste of the Roman
artists and connoisseurs had been formed on the severe examples of
Michael Angelo, Raphael, Polidoro, and others; so that the style of
Titian was tried by a new and conventional standard, to which it was not
fairly amenable. It was insinuated that his chief excellence lay in
portrait-painting. Vasari relates that, in company with Michael Angelo,
he made a visit to Titian at the Belvedere, and found him employed on
the celebrated picture of Danae. Michael Angelo bestowed high
commendations on it; but, as they went away, remarked to Vasari on
Titian’s inaccurate style of design, observing, that if he had received
his elementary education in a better school, his works would have been
inimitable. Nothing, perhaps, has tended more than this anecdote to give
currency to a belief that Titian was an unskilful draughtsman; an
opinion which, if tried by the test of his best works, is utterly
erroneous. There is not perhaps extant on canvass a more exquisite
representation of female beauty, even in point of design, than this
figure of Danae; and, with due reverence to the high authority of
Michael Angelo, it may be doubted whether his notion of correct design
was not tinctured by the ideal grandeur of his own style; which, however
magnificent in itself, and appropriate to the scale of the Sistine
chapel, is by no means a just medium for the forms of actual nature, nor
adapted to the representation of beauty. Michael Angelo however
frequently returned to look at this Danae, and always with expressions
of increased admiration.
After a residence of two years at Rome, Titian returned to Venice,
taking Florence in his route. The first work on which he engaged after
his return, was a picture of the Marquis del Vasto haranguing his
troops. He likewise began some altar-pieces, but finished little, being
summoned in 1550, by the Emperor Charles, to Vienna. The princes and
ministers assembled at the Imperial Court were astonished at the
confidence with which Titian was honoured by the Emperor, who gave him
free access to his presence at all times, a privilege extended only to
his most intimate friends. The large sums which the Emperor frequently
sent him, were always accompanied with the courteous assurance that they
were meant to testify the monarch’s sense of his merits, not in payment
for his works, those being beyond all price. On one occasion, while the
Emperor was sitting for his portrait, Titian dropt a pencil; the monarch
picked it up, and presented it to him, saying, on Titian’s apologizing
in some confusion, “Titian is worthy to be served by Cæsar.” The same
jealous feeling which had been evinced towards him at Bologna, again
manifested itself; but the artist, who amidst his loftier studies had
not neglected the cultivation of worldly knowledge, found means to
obviate envy, and to conciliate, by courtesy and presents, the good will
of the whole court. It was at this time that Charles, sated with glory
and feeling the advances of infirmity, began to meditate his retreat
from the world. This intention, it is said, he imparted to Titian, with
whom he delighted to confer concerning the arrangement of a large
picture, which he then commissioned the artist to paint, and which he
intended to be his companion in his retirement. The subject was an
apotheosis, in which Charles and his family were to be represented as
introduced by Religion into the presence of the Trinity. At Inspruck,
whither he accompanied the Emperor, Titian painted a superb picture, in
which Ferdinand, King of the Romans, and his Queen Anna Maria, are
represented with the attributes of Jupiter and Juno, and round them are
the seven princesses, their daughters. From each of these illustrious
ladies, Titian received a jewel each time they sat to him. Here also he
collected portraits for the apotheosis.
On the Emperor’s departure for Flanders, Titian returned to Venice;
where, soon after his arrival, he offered to finish the works which were
wanting in the great hall of the council. This offer was cordially
accepted by the Senate; and he was empowered to select the artists whom
he thought best qualified to be his coadjutors. He nominated Paul
Veronese and Tintoret, nor did those great painters feel themselves
humiliated in working under his directions. In 1553 the Emperor Charles
returned to Spain, and being at Barcelona, nominated Titian a Count
Palatine of the empire, with all the privileges, authority, and powers
attached to that dignity. He also created him a Knight of the Golden
Spur, and a noble of the empire, transmitting the dignity to his
legitimate children and descendants. Crowned with these honours, and
with faculties scarcely impaired, Titian had now reached his
seventy-fifth year; and it would be difficult to select a man the
evening of whose life has been more fortunate and happy. He still found
in the practice of his art a source of undiminished pleasure; his works
were sought by princes with emulous avidity; he was considered the chief
ornament of the city in which he dwelt. He was surrounded by friends
distinguished by their worth or talents; he had acquired wealth and
honour sufficient to satisfy his utmost ambition; and he was secure of
immortal fame!