CHAPTER XVIII

DECAY AND DECLINE

“Day is dying! Float, oh song,

Down the westward river,

Requiem chanting to the Day—

Day, the mighty giver.”

Now let us pass at once to the room where the later Italian pictures are

hung. It is the decay of the Italian school that we have to watch, for

painting has lost its spontaneity. The inspiration of genius has given

way to mere technical skill. This school is called the eclectic school,

for its followers sought to unite the excellences of many painters and

lost all inspiration in the attempt. Ludovico Carracci was its founder.

Tintoretto had warned him that he had no vocation for painting, that

there was nothing original or vital about his methods. Julio Romano,

Annibale Carracci, Canaletto, Guercino, Pietro Longuo, Giovanni Baptista

Tiepolo, Salvator Rosa, Carlo Dolci, Guido Reni, and Sassoferrato were

among the leaders of that school of decay.

Canaletto (1697–1768) is the painter of Venice, and he also painted

London, where he resided two years, coming thither in 1746. His pictures

are marvellous representations of the carvings of the great Venetian

palaces, accurate as photographs: he paints the gondolas, the canals;

but Venice, the land of limpid sunshine, of white marble, is a grey city

in Canaletto’s pictures. Sometimes it is “A State Regatta” (938) which

he paints, and we see the windows and balconies all decked with

tapestries and velvets; sometimes it is “The Grand Canal” (1058), one of

the waterways of Venice, filled with the market people coming in boats

that are laden with purple grapes and figs, scarlet gourds and crimson

fish baskets flaming in the morning sun. The painted sails above and the

sunburnt tanned limbs of the fisher folk glow. All the elements of

colour are here as we see them to-day, but in Canaletto’s pictures much

is grey and colourless.

Guido Reni (1575–1642), who was a pupil of the Carraccis, was a native

of Bologna. His father was a musician, and it was intended he should

follow the same career, but he preferred painting. There is something

very effeminate in his art. His “Magdalene” (177) is an example of his

curious overladen style.

Carlo Dolci (1616–1686), the son of a Florentine painter, is

sentimental, affected, pretty in art. There is a painful smoothness in

his compositions, there is nothing broad in his brush work.

Sassoferrato (1605–1685), who is a follower of the Carracci, has a

certain sweetness and dignity, but lacks originality. “The Virgin and

Child” (740) is a good example of his art. There is in his Madonnas no

stamp of the glorious inspiration of the great masters.

Salvatore Rosa’s (1615–1673) “Landscape with figures” (1206) is a dark

picture. It reflects the sad and interesting mind of the painter.

Salvatore’s life was the record of a disordered mind, full of

contradictory impulses—baseness, courage, ambition, and despair. His

pictures seem to be the work of a dark and tortuous spirit. It is said

that he once joined a band of brigands in the Abruzzi, and that he

sought there the solitude of the hills. Withered trees, dark abysses,

rocks that seemed thrown up by a mighty earthquake were his favourite

subjects. He had no religion: he said that he despised wealth and death.

The thought of that strange man painting these gloomy and mysterious

landscapes, these blasted trees, and nightmare vegetation, haunts our

imagination. His dark and terrible pictures image the awful fancies of

his mind.

But I shall not keep you long over this room. All the pictures are

painful to look at. When we think of the glorious art of Italy—the

exquisiteness of Botticelli, the holiness of Fra Angelico, the visions

of Titian, the noble frenzy of Tintoretto, the rugged splendour of

Michael Angelo, the infinite grace of Raphael, of Leonardo da Vinci, of

Andrea del Sarto, the splendour of the line and colour of Paolo

Veronese, we feel the sadness of decay in the smoothness of Guido Reni,

of Carlo Dolci, in the chaotic ruggedness of Salvatore Rosa, in the

absence of light of Canaletto’s Venice—all showing contempt for what is

natural and simple.

The National Gallery · 第 18 / 34 章