SCHOOLS OF LOMBARDY: THREE GREAT PAINTERS
“Like a poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.”
There are three great masters whom I want you to study in the Lombard
school—and in the Lombard school are included the school of Milan and
the Parmese school. Of this last school Correggio is the delightful
outcome. His bright, happy, debonair genius is the genius of Italy.
In the Lombard school one master deserves a very high place—Ambrogio
Borgognone (1455–1523). He was a religious painter, who had something
of the genius of Fra Angelico. There are several pictures by him in
the National Gallery, but the finest of all is “The Virgin and Child
with the two St. Catherines” (298). The Virgin is seated on a
beautifully carved throne. She is a sweet and timid girl, who holds
her divine Son in her lap. He is somewhat stiff, but there is charm in
the expression of His face. His two little hands are extended, and in
them He holds out two wedding rings. St. Catherine of Alexandria, the
great princess who loved to meditate on holy things, and who endured
martyrdom rather than marry a heathen prince, is receiving the symbol
of her consecration to Christ; on her head she wears a crown; at her
feet is the wheel that was intended for her martyrdom; in her hand she
bears the sword with which she was slain. The Virgin is gently drawing
the other Catherine—Catherine of Siena—towards her Son. This pure and
holy nun is the saint ministering to all those in affliction. She
entered the monastic life at thirteen years of age, and, quite
uneducated, she soon had more power over men and women than had
learned theologians and statesmen. She stands there in the Dominican
habit carrying a lily, the emblem of purity, wearing the ring that
will make her the bride of Christ. It is a fine picture, beautiful in
tone and full of sincerity.
Family portraits (779–780)—groups of nine men and thirteen women—you
should also look at; they will make you better understand the noble
sincerity and simplicity of Borgognone’s genius.
To the Lombard school belongs the gentle Luini, who, Mr. Ruskin says,
“stands alone in uniting consummate art power with untainted simplicity
and religious imagination.”
We have but one picture by Luini—“Christ Arguing with the Pharisees”
(18). In many respects the picture is so like Leonardo da Vinci’s work
that it was long ascribed to this master. Every face therein is a study
of expression. The Christ, who is the central figure, has a tender and
charming countenance; on either side of His face falls His golden brown
hair. The Pharisees about Him are puzzled and angry at His words, but He
continues to explain His thesis with earnestness. I wish we knew more of
Luini (1475–1529), who was born by the side of the lovely Lake Maggiore,
and whose whole youth was spent in its neighbourhood. His colouring is
so sweet and tender, the expression of his countenances is so deep that,
without having much to go upon, we yet claim him as one of that army of
old masters, one of those great men who held high the torch of art, and
whom we follow humbly.
Correggio (1494–1534), of the Parmese school, is believed to have
received his first training in the school of Ferrara. His name was
Allegri, and the name suited his gay and happy nature, his bright and
joyous art. The pictures we have from him are masterpieces. In the “Ecce
Homo” (15) the Christ is not a thin emaciated figure, but He is the most
gentle and beautiful of men. If His face shows the anguish of His
suffering there is no distortion of its features. In the little picture
called “The Holy Family” or “The Virgin of the Basket” (23) we see
Correggio’s charm, his gaiety, his attractive tenderness, the loveliness
of his light and shade. The picture is an enchanting representation of
motherhood. The Virgin is putting a little coat upon her baby Son, and
she is smiling at His attempt to pass His chubby arm through the sleeve.
It is a perfect picture of domestic peace and happiness. It was
Correggio’s wife who sat for it and his own baby, and the scene was
enacted in his studio; he sketched it and called it “The Mother and
Child.”
The other picture, “Mercury instructing Cupid in the presence of Venus”
(10), is one of the most exquisite of Correggio’s pagan pictures, if we
may so call them. Ruskin says “The two pictures which I would last part
from in the National Gallery would be Titian’s “Bacchus” and Correggio’s
“Venus.” We see Mercury wearing his winged cap and sandals, teaching the
alphabet, which it is said he invented, to the baby Cupid. The little
fellow’s wings are rainbow coloured; his golden hair clusters in close
curls round his head. He has a most absorbed mien as he learns his
letters. His mother stands behind him, radiantly beautiful, apparently
very much amused at her small son’s scholarly efforts. She, too, is
wearing wings;—perhaps it is to show that beauty flies,—and she holds
Cupid’s bow and arrow. Her lovely form is nude, and every curve of her
limbs is wrought in light and shade. She stands a glowing figure, one of
the purest and loveliest ever painted. This great picture first belonged
to Charles I. When he was beheaded it passed through many hands, and
ultimately came into the possession of Murat, King of Naples. When the
fortune of the Bonapartes was set in 1822, Murat’s wife wished to sell
it; and Lord Londonderry bought it over Russia’s head, giving the
largest sum and carrying it over to England.”
Other Correggios you will see in private galleries, in national museums,
and wherever you see them you will always find them imbued with
extraordinary life. His power of light and shade was unrivalled: his
figures move about in a luminous ether. Correggio died when he was forty
years of age, just three or four years older than was the immortal
Raphael. He was the last of Italy’s great masters.