Works of Grant Allen, page 919
Beyond the door, 1179, is a pretty little St. Sebastian by Botticelli. Number 1180 is a small copy of Allori’s fine Judith in the Pitti. Number 1159 is a head of Medusa, unaccountably attributed to Leonardo. Number 1161 is an exquisite little Circumcision and Nativity by Fra Bartolommeo. On the back of the flaps is an Annunciation, in two separate pieces. Number 1157 is *a fine portrait, attributed to Leonardo. Number 1158 is by *Botticelli, Holofernes discovered headless under his tent. Above these are three fine portraits, of which that by *Masaccio is very remarkable. The medallist (1154), falsely called Pico della Mirandola, is probably a Botticelli. Higher still are good later portraits, by Andrea del Sarto, etc.
I have passed lightly over the small works in this room because they are so numerous; but many of them deserve the closest attention. Do not think because a picture is little it is unimportant. Some of the loveliest gems of the collection are in this small apartment.
The next room, the Tribuna, contains what are generally considered the gems of the collection, though the selection by the authorities is in accordance with the taste of the beginning of this century rather than with that of the present generation. Start at the door, entering from the main corridor. Left of the entrance is a Holy Family by Alfani; a trivial work, chiefly interesting as showing the mixed school of Perugino and Raphael.
RAPHAEL. — MADONNA DEL CARDELLINO.
Number 1129, * *Raphael’s Madonna del Cardellino, is one of the most beautiful pictures of his Florentine period (1507). It should be compared with the Belle Jardinière in the Louvre. The subject is one originally peculiar to Florentine painters, the Madonna and Child with the infant St. John of Florence, the latter here holding the symbolical goldfinch. Note how the earlier abstractness here gives way to a touch of naturalism. The exquisite sweetness and Florentine cast of the Madonna’s countenance, and the charming painting of the nude boys should be carefully noted. This, however, is one of those pictures which must be mainly left to the perceptive powers of the reader. Do not overlook the charming contrast of the baby foot with the mother’s in the foreground.
Number 1127 is by Raphael, or more probably from a design by Raphael; the Young St. John in the Desert. Here the Renaissance love for the healthy youthful nude male form has triumphed over the asceticism of earlier conceptions. This is just a beautiful boy, with the traditional attributes of the penitent in the desert. The Florentine St. John is often thus used as a mere excuse for earthly painting or sculpture. You will meet him again in many shapes at the Bargello.
Above it are 1130 and 1126, by Fra Bartolommeo, Job and Isaiah, grand, or shall I say rather, grandiose figures which reveal the spiritual parentage of the Raphael cartoons. These are typical specimens of this great but unpleasing High Renaissance painter, art, not spirit, and the art itself chilly.
Number 1125, by Franciabigio, the Madonna of the Well, has the same subject as the Raphael which balances it, but with the later Roman treatment, the spirituality all going out, and mere naturalistic prettinesses substituted for the careful painting and more spiritual ideals of the earlier epoch. A good work of its sort, but oh, how fallen!
Number 1124 is a *very fine portrait by Francia.
Beneath it, 1123, probably by Sebastiano del Piombo, is the so-called Fornarina, attributed to Raphael. By whomever produced, this is a splendidly drawn and well-painted but ugly and vulgar picture. Compare it with number 1120, by *Raphael, a beautiful portrait of an unknown lady, in his earlier and better manner. The attribution is doubtful: it has been ascribed to Leonardo.
Number 1121, by *Mantegna, is a fine portrait of the Duchess of Urbino. Above the door is a good Rubens.
Number 1115 is a *fine Van Dyck. Number 1117, *Titian’s Venus, is a beautiful voluptuous nude, of a type suggested by the Giorgione now at Dresden. Compare with photographs.
Number 1136, by Veronese, is a very Venetian Holy Family, with a voluptuous fair-haired Venetian lady as St. Catherine. You can only know her for a saint because she carries a palm of martyrdom. Characteristic of the later lordly school of Venice.
Number 1131 is one of the replicas of Raphael’s Julius II. (some say the original). There is a better one in the Pitti, and a third in the National Gallery.
Number 1141 is * *Dürer’s Adoration of the Magi. Here in Florence I will not dwell in detail on this noble German work, which may however be compared in all its details, for likenesses and differences, with Italian representations. The face of the Madonna and of the Middle-aged King are essentially and typically German. The whole work, indeed, is redolent of German as opposed to Italian feeling: yet Dürer largely influenced contemporary Italians. In northern art, by the way, and as a rule in Lombardy and Venice, the Young King is a Moor. Note how in this picture almost all the traditional elements remain the same, yet how totally they are varied by the divergent spirit of the northern artist. Study of this picture and the Filippino in a neighbouring room is a fine lesson in the differences between German and Italian methods.
Number 1122, by *Perugino, is a beautiful Madonna and Child, with the St. John the Baptist of Florence, and the wounded St. Sebastian, — therefore, a plague picture. There is a fine replica of the last pathetic figure in the Louvre. This and Sodoma’s are the most beautiful St. Sebastians ever painted. Perugino’s is pure Umbrian in clearness and pietism: Sodoma’s has the somewhat affected softness and glowing light of that Sienese Lombard.
Number 197 is a *fine portrait by Rubens of his wife; extremely natural.
Number 1114 is Guercino’s Sibyl, astonished to find herself in such strange company.
Number 1108, a second Recumbent Venus by Titian, more simply voluptuous and more resembling Palma Vecchio’s type than the former one, is good, but fleshly: it foreshadows Veronese. Beneath it are pictures of the later period, masterpieces, no doubt, in their own florid way, but sadly out of keeping with the Perugino, the Dürer, and the Raphael of the Cardellino.
Number 1143 is the Crown of Thorns, by Lucas van Leyden.
Number 1116, a *portrait of Beccadelli by Titian, is admirable but not pleasing. The flesh and hands are splendidly painted.
Number 1139 is * *Michael Angelo’s Holy Family with about as much holiness in them as there was in the painter; a magnificent work, on an uncongenial subject. Our Lady is a fine vigorous woman of the lower orders, with an unpleasing face, and splendid arms and hands, excellently painted. The pose of her neck is wonderful. The Child is not a divine figure, but a fine study in anatomy and foreshortening. The baby St. John of Florence in the background is a charming young Bacchus. The graceful nude figures behind, disposed in glorious attitudes, show what Michael Angelo really cared for. This is a triumphant work of art, but it none the less exhibits the futility of setting such a man to paint what were thought to be sacred pictures. Note the draperies.
Above are a fine Van Dyck and two Cranachs (Adam and Eve), interesting as showing the crude northern conception of the unidealised nude, very well rendered. Compare this Eve, in its faithful likeness to a commonplace undraped model, with Lorenzo di Credi’s graceful Venus in an adjacent hall, or with the two voluptuous Titians in this very room. Compare the Adam, again, with Perugino’s St. Sebastian. They mark the difference between the literal simplicity of the north and the idealism and daintiness of the south.
Number 1118, Correggio’s Repose on the Flight into Egypt, with St. Francis adoring, is not a pleasing specimen of the great master. Far more interesting and typical is his 1134, *the Madonna adoring the Child, a pretty Parman woman, charmed with her baby. It has all that mastery of light and shade, and that graceful delicacy of workmanship, which is peculiar to Correggio. But the simper is affected, and the sacredness is of course a negative quantity; it is a pretty domestic scene, masquerading as a Nativity.
Above it, 1135, is a Luini, Herodias’s daughter receiving the head of John the Baptist. The princess’s face is fine and characteristic, but the work as a whole does not adequately represent Luini at his best. It is cold and laboured.
The next room, that of the Maestri Diversi Italiani, contains small pictures of the later period, mostly of diminished interest. Amongst them, however, are some fine works. Number 1025, a beautiful and delicately finished little Mantegna, should be closely noticed. Its background is glorious. Number 1165, a rather pretty infant Christ lying on the Cross, by Allori, has a certain sentimental interest. I will allow the reader to make his own selection among these minor works. An Annunciation, by Garofalo, 1138, may be instructively compared with earlier and better treatments. Most of these pictures, indeed, are chiefly interesting as showing how later painters did ill what earlier artists had done much better. They are studies in decadence.
CHAPTER V.
THE HALLS OF THE FOREIGN SCHOOLS AND THE FIRST HALL OF THE VENETIAN SCHOOL.
The next room, devoted to the Dutch School, contains several admirable works, some of which are of the first importance. Such are: 972, by Metzu; 870, by Heemskerck; 905, by Van der Werf; 854, by Mieris; 926, by Gerard Dou, etc. These works, however, have no natural organic connection with Florence, and though in many cases extremely beautiful and wonderfully finished, they seldom require any explanation. They do not therefore fall within the scope of this work, and I will leave them to the reader’s native appreciation.
HOLBEIN. — PORTRAIT OF RICHARD SOUTHWELL.
Somewhat the same may be said of the next room, containing Flemish and German pictures, many of which, however, are in their subjects more cognate with early Italian painting, so that they may often be compared to advantage with their southern compeers. In this room you cannot afford to overlook *780 and *801, two exquisite portraits by Memling. Number *778 is a lovely portrait by the same, of a Benedictine monk in the character of St. Benedict — a frequent little excuse for portraiture. Number *777 is a fine head of St. Philip by Dürer. Numbers 771 and 773 are good miniatures of saints by Poelemburg. Number 768 is a companion picture of St. James by Dürer. Number * *769 is an unspeakably beautiful portrait by Memling, which, as an example of Flemish style, may be compared with * *766, Dürer’s essentially German portrait of his father, marvellous in its fidelity. Number 838 is a rather coarse portrait of Luther by Cranach; number 847, by the same, of Melancthon. Number 845 represents the Electors of Saxony. Number 765, * *Holbein’s magnificent portrait of Richard Southwell, is too frank to be flattering — immensely superior to the one in the Louvre. Number 795 is *Roger van der Weyden’s wonderful Deposition, where the characteristics of northern art may be well contrasted with Italian treatments of the same subject. The two elder saints are Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. Number 784 is a fine portrait by Anthony Mor. I do not dwell on any of these, as not essential to Florence: but if you have time to see them, after seeing all that is distinctively local, they will well repay you for your trouble.
The Scuola Fiamminga e Tedesca, Prima Sala, similarly contains a number of admirable Flemish and German works. Conspicuous among these, on the wall which faces you as you enter, near the window, is * *Memling’s exquisite Enthroned Madonna, where Our Lady’s face is (as usual with Flemish art) somewhat vague and wooden, — a convention too sacred for art to tamper with, — while the two angels, especially the one with the apple to the left, are absolutely charming. The exquisite finish of everything in this triumph of Flemish painting should be carefully noted: the architecture of the arches, the children holding festoons of fruit and flowers (themselves most daintily and delicately finished), the delicious clear-cut landscape background, the richly wrought brocade behind Our Lady’s back, her hair and robe, the carpet at her feet, the draperies of the angels, and the lovely ecclesiastical vestments worn by the apple-bearer, all deserve the closest study. This glorious picture glows like a jewel. Only the fact that it is not Italian hurries me away from it. But did not Mantegna take occasional hints from such festoons as these in contemporary Flemish painters?
Close by is a lovely *Van der Goes (or Aldegrever?) of the Madonna and Child, with St. Catherine and St. Barbara (?) and angels holding a crown above her head. Though inferior both in feeling and finish to the exquisite Madonna of the Portinari family, by the same artist, at Santa Maria Nuova (which go and see), it is nevertheless a splendid example of minute Flemish workmanship. I will only direct attention to the hair and robe of the Madonna and the architectural enrichments.
Other pictures on the same wall, well deserving study, are Kulmbach’s (or Schauffelein’s) Crucifixion of St. Peter and Conversion of St. Paul; an Adoration of the Magi, by an unknown fifteenth century Fleming (Gerard David? I think not); and some good little genre works by either Teniers.
Beyond the door is a charming portrait by Joost Van Cleef (Justus of Ghent), of a Dominican nun, in the character of the Mater Dolorosa. An Adam and Eve, by Floris, show once more the harsh northern conception of the nude, now largely modified by Italian example.
The end wall has a curious triptych by Nicolas Froment, the painter patronised by King René of Anjou (and the Meister Korn of the Germans). In the centre is the Resurrection of Lazarus, with the ghastly expression of returning life on a dead man’s face rendered with painful truth and weird imagination. The bystanders holding their noses are conventional: see the old picture in the Belle Arti. The painting of their robes is very characteristic. The text of the left panel is, “Lord, if Thou hadst been here our brother had not died;” the subject of the right panel, the Magdalen anointing the feet of Christ. The Pharisee in this and the central picture seems to me most typically German: but there are also undeniably old French touches. Lafenestre claims it as French. Observe all the details. On the flaps outside in grisaille, are, on the left, Madonna and Child; on the right, the donors kneeling; dated 1461. Other good pictures on this wall I cannot particularise.
On the left wall, 731 is attributed to Jan Van Eyck (I think erroneously: it is probably Dutch), *Adoration of the Magi. Very interesting for comparison both with the Italians and the Dürer. Notice the Moorish king, the architecture of the background, and the shepherds on the right flap. The Old King seems almost worthy of the great master: perhaps copied.
Below, 749, are two admirable portraits attributed to Petrus Cristus.
Here again I leave many fine works unnoticed, because of their want of connection with Florentine art or history.
For the same reason I will not notice any of the works of the French School just beyond, though Clouet’s François Ier, Watteau’s (?) Flute-player, and several others are well worth attention.
Now, pass out of this suite of rooms into the end corridor. The door to the left leads to a room containing the gems, many of which are worth close inspection. The corridor is chiefly occupied with sculpture, though it has also a few tolerable pictures. Cross it to the right, observing as you go the charming views out of all the windows, especially the end one looking down the Arno. Then, turn along the second long corridor, on the west side, and enter the first door to your left, which gives access to the Scuola Veneta, Sala Prima.
This room is full of good works (chiefly bought by Cardinal Leopoldo de’ Medici from a Florentine merchant at Venice), which excellently exhibit the splendid Venetian colouring. They are not, however, of the first importance, nor does the Uffizi contain a sufficient number of examples to enable you to form a conception of the Venetian School, especially if you have not yet visited Venice. (The Pitti supplements it.)
On the entrance wall, to the left of the door as you enter, notice 585, Pordenone’s fine Portrait of a Venetian Gentleman, well thrown up against a screen of wall, with admirable colour and accessories.
Near it, 604, is Carletto Veronese (son of Paolo), the Madonna in the clouds of glory, with St. Mary Magdalen, St. Justina, San Frediano of Lucca, with his rake, etc., a picture very characteristic of the later debased taste of Venice. The Magdalen has the face and costume of a courtesan.
Number 577 is a good portrait by Paris Bordone; 587, a much finer portrait by the same.
TITIAN. — FLORA.
Above it, 601, is a good characteristic portrait by Tintoretto of a Venetian admiral, where his peculiar tone of red is well marked.
On the left wall, 595, is a group of the painter’s family, by Jacopo Bassano, also very typical of the later Venetian feeling.
Numbers * *605 and *599 are portraits by Titian of the Duke and Duchess of Urbino, admirable as works of art, the painting of the armour and robes most noteworthy, but the duchess’s face extremely unpleasing. The duke’s is finely and boldly rendered.
Above, 596, is a Paolo Veronese, Esther brought before Ahasuerus. The central figures, the architecture, the accessories, and the spectators of this good work are all extremely characteristic of Veronese’s manner. The whole is envisaged as a Venetian pageant of his time, with high-born Venetian ladies and great signiors of the period. Note the man in armour on the extreme left, with the more commonplace figure who balances him on the right. Colour and composition are well worth study as typical of the painter.
On an easel close by, 626, is *Titian’s Flora, a characteristic example of large, idealised, voluptuous, aristocratic, Venetian womanhood; a fine model, excellently rendered. Hair, arms, and robe are all admirably painted. Note the dainty hands, with shade behind them, and the beautiful treatment of the left shoulder. The delicate flesh-tints could hardly be surpassed. The whole work is most light and luminous. The colour of the robe on the right is lovely.
Number 594 is a murky Domenico Tintoretto of an apparition of St. Augustine; below it is a characteristic Jacopo Bassano, Moses and the Burning Bush: both good examples of late Venetian manner.
On the end wall, 3388, is Tintoretto’s Leda, a last product of the type initiated by Giorgione, and handed on by Titian. A graceful enough treatment of the nude, exquisite in its blended colour, less voluptuous and more ideal than Titian’s models. The light and shade are marvellous. Notice the hands and feet, and the curtain in the background. The attendant by the chest is painted in one of Tintoretto’s peculiar attitudes.
