ANDREA VANNI
❧ WRITTEN BY F. MASON PERKINS ❧
ALTHOUGH the name of Andrea Vanni is by no means unfamiliar to the student of Sienese painting, it is doubtful whether its mention ever calls up to any but a few the image of a definite artistic personality. What fame Andrea now has rests more upon tradition than upon acquaintance with his art. He was born in 1333, or thereabouts. An active participant in the popular uprising of 1368, which resulted in the expulsion of the nobles and the foundation of the new government of the reformatori, he played, during the twenty years that followed, a busy and not unimportant part in the affairs of the Sienese republic, leaving behind him a lengthy and honourable record of the various offices which he held. In later years a friend and warm admirer of his great townswoman Caterina Benincasa, he was the recipient of much good counsel from that gentle saint, in the shape of certain letters which have perhaps done more than all his political achievements to keep alive the memory of his name. ¶ But it is not with Andrea the diplomat, or Andrea the devotee, that we are here concerned. Those who would know him better in these characters need only examine the pages of Milanesi, of Banchi and Borghesi, and of St. Catherine’s letters. Andrea has left behind him documents of a very different nature, and of a far deeper interest, than any of mere lettered parchment, and documents by no means so rare as has generally been supposed. With all his diplomatic and official celebrity, he was primarily an artist—perhaps not a great one in the superlative usage of the word, but sufficiently interesting to warrant an attempt to revive his memory as a painter by giving back to him a number of works which, in his native town and elsewhere, pass to-day under other, and sometimes greater, names. ¶ The works upon which Vanni’s reputation as a painter has hitherto rested are only three in number, and are all in his native town:—a well-known portrait of St. Catherine, in the church of S. Domenico; a very little known polyptych, in the church of S. Stefano; and a fragmentary Crucifixion, once in the church of the Alborino, now in the Istituto delle Belle Arti. Of these three works, whose common authorship is evident, the altarpiece in S. Stefano and the Crucifixion in the Belle Arti are given to Andrea on sufficiently reliable documentary grounds; the likeness of St. Catherine, on the strength of a tradition of several centuries. Despite its historical interest, and its great decorative design, this portrait-fresco, in its present state, can help us to but a slight idea of its author’s general style, and for this purpose the unimportant and somewhat coarsely-painted fragment in the Belle Arti can help us but little more. But the great polyptych of S. Stefano is happily a very different and vastly more important work, and of a nature to give us a satisfactory conception of Andrea’s manner at the time in which it was executed. A glance at this huge painting, or the accompanying reproduction, reveals at once that Vanni belonged to that same group of late trecento painters of which Bartolo di Fredi is the best known representative. Like the work of that master, it shows the influence both of Simone Martini and of the Lorenzetti. But it displays the qualities of a strongly-marked individuality as well. ¶ Let us examine it in detail, commencing with the central and most important panel of the Virgin and the Child. That which, apart from the colour, strikes us immediately and most forcibly, is the peculiar silhouette-like character of the design. The great figure of the Madonna is thrown out like a dark, clear-cut pattern against the golden background of her throne. Except for the face and hands, there is little, if any, attempt at modelling or chiaroscuro. The whole effect is flat to a degree, reminding us somewhat of the coloured prints of Japan, with their sharply-defined outlines and broad fields of colour. In this feeling for flat design, Andrea gives witness to his being a follower—if an extreme one—of Simone’s methods. But he has little or none of Simone’s subtle contours and undulating flow of line. The drapery of Andrea’s Virgin is severely simple—there is a remarkable economy of line and fold, reminding us in this rather of Ambrogio Lorenzetti than of Simone. Her stiff, upright pose, again, has none of the tender grace of Simone’s Madonnas and saints, and is more akin to that of Ambrogio’s statelier figures. In facial type Andrea’s Virgin is, however, distinctly his own. The large rounded cranium, the narrow eyes and small half-covered iris, the delicately drawn mouth, the firm but not obtrusive chin, go to make up a set of features not easily forgotten. The Christ-Child, again, reveals decidedly the influence of Simone’s models, and finds its prototype in the Child of Simone’s great fresco of the Majestas in the Palazzo della Signoria, as well as in other works by him, by his close follower Lippo Memmi, and by their school. ¶ Turning now to the other figures, we note in the Baptist a striking similarity, even in the smallest details, to Simone’s figures of that saint at Pisa and at Altenburg, of which it is evidently a free copy. The St. Bartholomew shows like influences in a less degree. The figures of SS. James and Stephen are more Vanni’s own—the head of the latter being a free repetition of the Virgin’s. The Annunciation is severely vigorous and individual, the dark figure of the Virgin again showing, very clearly, Andrea’s love of the silhouette. The side figures of saints, and the evangelists in the pinnacles, reveal a slightly stronger sense of modelling and characterization, and remind us of Bartolo di Fredi and Luca di Tommé. The colour throughout is bright and clear, laid out in broad and simple masses, with a parsimonious use of shading and a lavish use of gold. ¶ If Tizio’s notices of this altarpiece be correct—and there is no reason to doubt that they are so, especially as the style of the work itself supports rather than contradicts them—it was painted in or about 1400. It is, therefore, the production of a man already verging on his seventieth year, and must represent the later, if not the last, development of Vanni’s style. As we have already noted, it has a family likeness to the work of Bartolo di Fredi and others of his school. Still, despite all superficial or general resemblances, these two painters are widely different in style and spirit. In pure grace and charm, Bartolo leaves Vanni far behind him. Andrea’s work again, at least as we here see it, has none of the softly-graded colour, the delicate modelling, the freer line, the careful technical finish of detail—none of the bibelot quality in fact—of Bartolo’s at its best. But, for all that, it convinces us that his was the deeper, grander soul. For mere prettiness or elaborate technical refinement he displays little sympathy or care. Directness and simplicity of expression, staid dignity and great seriousness of purpose—these seem the salient characteristics of his nature, as we read it in his art; nor do they disagree with the conception which the written records convey to us of the man.
POLYPTYCH BY ANDREA VANNI IN THE CHURCH OF SAN STEFANO, SIENA
⇒
LARGER IMAGE
ANNUNCIATION, BY ANDREA VANNI, IN S. PIETRO OVILE, SIENA
VIRGIN AND CHILD, FROM THE ALTAR-PIECE BY ANDREA VANNI IN S. FRANCESCO, SIENA
Taking this altarpiece, then, as a fairly characteristic example of Vanni’s mature style, I shall bring before the reader’s notice a series of works, at present under other names, one and all of which share with it, in a greater or a less degree, all the peculiarities which I have already pointed out, as well as others to which I have not yet drawn attention. Not the least among these works, in size and in importance, is a picture of the Enthroned Virgin and Child, popularly known as the Madonna degli Infermi, in the church of S. Francesco at Siena. Those who have once seen this strangely impressive painting will not be likely to forget it. The colossal Virgin is seated upright on her throne, majestic and solemnly hieratic, the grave-visaged Child supported on her arm. There is something enigmatic, mysterious, superhuman, in the commanding grandeur of the figures, which the photographic reproduction[102] can but partially convey. They remind us of some of the works of early Byzantine art, in their strange impassiveness and impersonality, far rather than of those of late fourteenth-century Siena. The panel has been cut down, and evidently once formed but part of an even more imposing whole. The flesh parts have darkened as if by smoke, and now have the colour of mahogany; the glazings and the surface coatings have entirely disappeared. The picture is traditionally attributed to Pietro Lorenzetti, but there can be no question as to its real author. Let us compare it with the central panel of the S. Stefano polyptych. Even in its present damaged state, the analogies which it offers to that painting are so apparent that it is more than surprising some passing critic, or even some local art-historian, has not long ago given it back to its true painter, striking and important picture as it is. The similarities between the two Madonnas seem hardly to require comment. The same clearly-outlined figure, the same sedate pose, the same dark mantle with its golden border and broad and simple folds, the same head, eyes, nose, and mouth, the same hands—to dwell longer on these points would be merely to waste words. Here we have, beyond a doubt, another work of Andrea Vanni, belonging to the same period as, and sharing all the characteristics of, the S. Stefano polyptych—only in a severer and grander vein. As if in support of our conclusions, Tizio tells us that at about the same time Andrea painted his great picture for S. Stefano he executed still another similar work for the friars minor of S. Francesco. Doubtless this present panel once formed part of the work to which he refers, nor would it be stretching a point too far to say that its present half-ruined condition is probably due to damage suffered during the disastrous conflagration which, in 1655, wrecked the great building wherein it stood and destroyed so many of its treasures. ¶ But this, to my mind, is not the only work by Vanni still to be seen in this same restored church of S. Francesco. In the last chapel of the north transept is an imposing fresco of the Virgin seated with the Child in an elaborate architectural throne. It is generally attributed to Ambrogio Lorenzetti, and has been published with his name. As it now stands, this fresco has been almost entirely renewed, but enough of its original spirit still remains to afford the practised eye some slight idea of its primitive state. The incised outlines are still virtually unchanged, and the forms of the figure and the broad folds of the drapery have preserved, to a great extent, their original character. As is usually the case, the faces have undergone the greatest transformation, yet even here the original features have not been entirely lost. Quite enough remains, in fact, to convince me that in this case also we are in the presence of what was once an important work of Andrea Vanni. The entire figure of the Virgin, the peculiarly marked outline, the dignified position, the oval head, the narrow eyes, and the straight nose, the characteristic and tell-tale folds of the voluminous mantle, their peculiar arrangement about the feet, the long wrist and hand, still pierce through the modern covering of repaint, clearly revealing the touch of Vanni’s brush. ¶ In far better condition, and far easier of identification, is the half-length panel of the Virgin and Child—evidently once part of a larger work, but now cut down to fit an oval frame—in the chapel of the SS. Chiodi in Siena. This picture, usually given to Barna, was surmised, but only surmised, by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, to be a possible work of Vanni. The reasons for their hesitation are rather difficult to find, and they were certainly correct in their conjecture, for the work is as evidently by Vanni as is the great Madonna of S. Francesco. But here we have our painter in a very different, far gentler, almost playful, strain. As usual, the Virgin is seated sedately upright on her throne, clad in the conventional dark mantle, fastened, as in the fresco of S. Francesco, by a splendid golden clasp. The head and face are the same in shape and features as in the other panels; the expression less serious and solemn. The Child is pleasing in type and action. With one hand to His mouth, He presses with the other His Mother’s bared breast as He looks half shyly towards the spectator. Here again there is none of the hieratic solemnity of the S. Francesco panel. The colour—apart from the repainted mantle—is warmer, and the modelling of the flesh parts softer, than in the picture of S. Stefano, but the forms and details are the same. ¶ Somewhat similar in spirit to this last-named work are two other panels, one in the church of S. Spirito, the other in S. Giovanni in Pantaneto, better known as S. Giovannino della Staffa. The first of these is a full-length figure of the Virgin holding in her arms the Christ-Child, who plays with a bird. At the foot of the throne kneels a diminutive figure of the donor, cap in hand. The Virgin sits in the upright position common to all the pictures we have so far examined; she has the same bend of the head, the same stereotyped set of features. The architecture and perspective of the throne are the same as in the picture of the SS. Chiodi and the fresco in S. Francesco. The Child is not unpleasing in action and expression. The figure of the Virgin has suffered considerably from repaint, the mantle being in great part quite new. The original colour is bright and gay, but the execution is less careful than in most of Vanni’s works, and would lead us to place this panel in the last years of his activity, when his brush had lost some of the freshness of its touch, were it not for the energetically, and at the same time carefully, executed little figure of the kneeling donor, damaged and darkened but still intact—a remarkable piece of early portraiture, finely characterized. Judging from the shape of this panel, it also once formed part of a triptych or polyptych. The Madonna of S. Giovanni has suffered far more from restoration, the figure of the Christ-Child being here almost entirely repainted. The still pleasing Virgin displays Vanni’s usual type, and differs but slightly from the Madonna in S. Spirito, although originally it may have been a more carefully executed figure. Still another picture, a charming little Annunciation, in the possession of Count Fabio Chigi at Siena, also clearly shows Andrea’s hand: it is very careful in execution and graceful in movement—far more free in this respect than the similar but severer treatment of the subject in the polyptych at S. Stefano. The types are Vanni’s usual ones, the colour is quiet and subdued.[103] ¶ But finer in quality and in a better state of preservation than any of these works, is a little picture of the Virgin and Child belonging to Mr. Bernhard Berenson, at Florence. That it is by Vanni needs no urging on my part—a moment’s comparison of the accompanying reproduction with any of the paintings which we have already examined is sufficient to prove this very obvious fact. It would be hard to imagine a more characteristic and at the same time a more charming example of his work. Yet in some ways it differs considerably from the paintings we have so far studied, especially in its more painstaking and finished execution, and in its light golden tone of colour, so very unlike that of such works as the Madonnas of S. Spirito and the SS. Chiodi. Although not without the dignity which Vanni never fails to give her, the Virgin in Mr. Berenson’s picture is less sedately grave than in the panels at S. Francesco and S. Stefano—the Child less grown-up and solemn. Both, again, are in Vanni’s softer, more gentle mood. Belonging to Mr. Berenson also, we have another panel by Andrea, painted in a very different style and spirit. It represents the Deposition from the Cross, and must have been part of a predella to an altarpiece. Derived from Ambrogio Lorenzetti’s treatment of this sublime theme, it yet is more restrained, more intellectual, and more clearly arranged.
LONDON STEREO CO.
MADONNA AND CHILD BY ANDREA VANNI IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. BERNHARD BERENSON
⇒
LARGER IMAGE
DETAILS OF THE ANNUNCIATION BY ANDREA VANNI IN S. PIETRO OVILE, SIENA
The famous portrait of St. Catherine which I have already mentioned, and which is too well known to require description, and the Crucifixion in the Belle Arti—a fragment of a larger work painted in 1396—would bring this particular list of Vanni’s works to a temporary close,[104] were it not for still another painting, perhaps even more interesting than any of these, which to my mind must also be classed with them. In the church of S. Pietro Ovile, at Siena, we find a beautiful free copy of Simone Martini’s famous Annunciation, now in the Uffizi gallery. This picture has aroused the admiration of numberless tourists and the curiosity of more than one writer on Siena’s art. Apart from its traditional attribution to Simone and Lippo Memmi themselves, it has undergone a series of widely different baptisms at a variety of hands; from a trecento it has become a quattrocento painting, and so back again. It has long been my conviction, as it has been that of no less an authority on Sienese painting than Mr. Berenson before me, that this picture is a work of Andrea Vanni. I am quite well aware of the surprise which this sudden attribution will cause to many, as I am also of the difficulties in proving my point with the limited and unsatisfactory aid which photographs afford. In an article supported only by photographic reproductions, that most important of all arguments, quality, and, as in this case, the hardly less convincing one of colour, must in great part be laid aside. Nevertheless, there remains, in this particular instance, so much that can be demonstrated by photographic evidence in support of Vanni’s claims, that I shall make the attempt. ¶ Of the history of the Annunciation now in S. Pietro, nothing appears to be known. As it now exists it stands no longer above an altar, but is let into the wall of the church. In shape and size it was evidently once quite similar to Simone’s original, but it has since been cut down and shortened at the sides and bottom. The three panels which now surmount it have nothing to do with the picture itself, and are the work of two different painters of the quattrocento—the Crucifixion is probably by Giovanni di Paolo; the two figures of St. Peter and St. Paul by Matteo di Giovanni, as we see him in the remains of the altarpiece at Borgo S. Sepolcro, which once contained, as its central panel, Piero dei Francesci’s Baptism of Christ, now in London. They were probably placed in their present position at a relatively recent date. As to its condition, the picture has evidently not always enjoyed the care that is now given it, for it is considerably damaged and darkened. The hand of the restorer has not been absent, alas! and there are, unfortunately, visible traces of his brush in the heads and hands, and in the Virgin’s draperies. ¶ That we have here a copy, and in some ways a fairly close one, of Simone’s famous picture, is obvious; that it was painted directly from Simone’s original, which was at that time in the cathedral of Siena, is no less certain; that it was painted by an artist who was throughout seeking to overcome the peculiarities of his own somewhat strongly marked style, and that he was but partially successful in so doing, is also apparent. ¶ Let us examine the work more closely, and in its separate parts, commencing with the figure of the Virgin. It shows but little of the ease of movement and grace of line to be found in Simone’s original. The high-waisted figure; the stiff, upright, almost rigid, position; the line of the shoulders and the knees; the peculiar poise of the head; the straight-falling folds of the drapery and the line of the mantle as it catches the arm in its downward flow: all are points which find their counterpart in the works of Vanni, and in those of no other painter. Here, also, we have the same simple, strongly-marked outlines, the same dark field of colour relieved, pattern-like and comparatively flat, against the lighter background. Although the blue of the Virgin’s mantle has darkened considerably, it is still apparent that her figure was always fairly innocent of modelling—far more so in fact than that of Simone’s Virgin. For Simone, with all his love of outlined pattern, does not stop at this—his contour, however clear and distinct, is far more flowing, far more subtle—his mass is far less flat and unrelieved. Although the painter of the S. Pietro copy has tried more or less faithfully to copy the arrangement of Simone’s drapery, he has done it, perhaps despite himself, in his own way. The folds in the copy have an entirely different character from that which they possess in the original; they are precisely what we might imagine Vanni doing in an attempt to be particularly graceful. But if all these points in the drapery and figure remind us so unmistakably of Vanni’s style, we discover in the Virgin’s head even closer affinities with that master’s other works. The same well-rounded cranium and oval face; the same narrow eyes, with the small half-covered iris and high-arched brows; the same long straight nose (still clearly recognizable as Vanni’s, despite scaling and later retouching); the identical mouth; the same inclination of the head and its peculiar setting on the neck; the same chin; the same long, slender hands: all are to be found in one or other of the works we have already mentioned, and especially in Mr. Berenson’s Madonna. Here we have, also, Vanni’s love of gold brocade in the Virgin’s under garment and in the hangings of the throne. The figure of the angel is no less characteristic. The drapery is here incontestably Vannesque in its peculiar, not over-graceful, folds. Here, again, is the clear outline, the slight modelling, and the sparing use of chiaroscuro, the same treatment of the draperies, the long hands and thin arms, as in all Vanni’s other works. The outline of the face, chin, and neck has been damaged and gone over, and the peculiar, straggling, dark-brown curls are a later addition, and contrast strongly with the lighter golden hair behind them. Apart from these slight changes, the head, although a would-be copy of Simone‘s, shares Vanni’s characteristic features. The cherubs about the Holy Spirit already point to the end of the trecento. The roman lettering of the inscriptions we find used likewise on the scroll held by the Christ-Child in Mr. Berenson’s picture. ¶ So much for material resemblances, of which the reader may gather some idea by means of the accompanying illustrations. And now a word as to the colour of the work. Its striking resemblance, in this respect, to the Madonna of Mr. Berenson’s collection, will not fail to carry conviction where there may before have existed only persuasion. In the general quality of technique, and more especially in the remarkable golden tone of colour and the peculiar treatment of the flesh, the two works are strangely alike, and cannot help but do away with any final doubts as to their community of authorship.
ANNUNCIATION, BY ANDREA VANNI, IN THE COLLECTION OF COUNT FABIO CHIGI, SIENA
ANNUNCIATION, BY SIMONE MARTINI, IN THE UFFIZI GALLERY, FLORENCE
In the preceding pages I have tried to prove—the reader can best judge with what success—Vanni’s claims to the authorship of a certain group of pictures, so closely related in style, quality, and spirit, as clearly to belong to the same period of his activity as that which produced the polyptych of S. Stefano. As we know, this period was one of a comparatively old age. Yet it would seem as if Andrea had turned, during the later years of his life, with a renewed activity, to the practice of his art, after the busy public career of his prime. Judging from the scarcity of documents of an official nature connected with his name after 1384, it would seem that, somewhere about that year, he retired from active participation in political affairs and devoted himself wholly to his painting. That he was inactive as an artist, however, during all his earlier years, is not to be believed. We have, in fact, a line of documents to prove that this was not the case. Still, these written records help us very little in the tracing of his earlier artistic development. Evidently in origin a pupil of the school of Lippo Memmi, I should place in the period of his ascendance a somewhat hard and gaudy, but not uninteresting, triptych, representing St. Michael between St. Anthony the abbot and the Baptist, No. 67 of the Siena gallery. This work, which is in a remarkable state of preservation, is attributed to Lippo Memmi himself, and clearly shows the characteristics of his school. There is much in the figures which bears a close similarity to Andrea’s later types. Another panel—a Virgin and Child in the priest’s house, next to S. Pietro Ovile—having close affinity to Simone and Lippo Memmi in technical treatment, in colour, and even in style, seems to presage in a far more definite manner the works of Vanni which we now know, and already shares many of his peculiar characteristics in detail. But, apart from these two paintings, I can call to mind no works of these early years which I can with any confidence give to him. The first notice of Andrea as a painter is one of 1353, in which year he was associated with Bartolo di Fredi, whether as partner or assistant is not quite clear. The last records of his activity are dated 1400. Milanesi, upon some unnamed authority, gives the probable date of his death as 1414. ¶ It would prolong this article unduly if the questions of Vanni’s influence upon Sienese art, and of his possible pupils and apparent successors, were entered into with the fullness which the subject demands. We must limit ourselves here to a brief mention of the closest of the followers of Vanni in those later years in which chiefly we have been studying him, a painter less known even than himself, Paolo di Giovanni Fei. An apparently early work by him, the Madonna del Rosario of S. Domenico, suggests that he was actually the pupil of Vanni. By him, also, are three pictures in the Siena gallery, one in the chapel of S. Bernardino just outside the Porta Camollia, another in the Saraceni collection, and yet another in the Minutolo chapel of Naples cathedral.