"Of Fra Bartolommeo," quickly replied two or three voices.
"And I am sure," continued Mr. Sumner, "that Fra Bartolommeo never painted them until after he had visited Venice, and had learned from the study of these Venetian masters how great an aid to composition and what beautiful features in a picture they are. And Raphael never painted them until he had seen Fra Bartolommeo's work.
"But now look at Bellini's Madonna" as he turned again to the picture, "for she is as individual as Botticelli's, and is as easily recognizable. Note her stately pride of beauty, produced chiefly by the way in which her neck rises from her shoulders, and in which her head is poised upon it. Everything else, however, is in perfect keeping—from the general attitude and lifted hand to the half-drooping eyelids. Of what is she so proud? She is holding her Child that the world may worship Him. Of herself she has no thought. Botticelli's Madonna is brooding over the sorrows of herself and Son: Bellini's is lost in the noble pride that He has come to save man. The color of the picture is wondrously beautiful.
"Please note in your little books this artist's Madonnas in San Zaccaria and Church of the Frari, and go to see them to-morrow morning if you can; they are his masterpieces. I will not talk any more now. If you wish to stay here longer, it will be well to go back and look at the very earliest pictures again, or others that you will find by Carpaccio and the Bellini brothers."
Not long after, they got together one evening to talk about Titian and Giorgione. They had seen, of course, their pictures in the Florentine galleries, and Titian's Sacred and Profane Love in the Borghese Gallery, Rome; and were familiar with the rich color and superb Venetian figures and faces.
"What a pity that Giorgione died so young!" exclaimed Margery.
"Yes," replied her uncle. "He would doubtless have given to the world many pictures fully equal to Titian's. Indeed, to me, he seems to have been gifted with even a superior quality of refinement. We may see it in the contrast between his Venus in the Dresden Gallery, whose photograph you know, and Titian's two Venuses in the Uffizi, which you studied so carefully when in Florence. But there are very few examples of Giorgione's paintings in existence, and critics are still quarrelling over almost all that are attributed to him. Probably the most popular are the Dresden Venus, which has only recently been rescued from Titian and given to its rightful author, and the Concert, which you remember in the Pitti Gallery, Florence, about which there is considerable dispute, some critics thinking it an early work by Titian."
"Why did the artists not sign their pictures?" rather impatiently interrupted Malcom.
"Even a signature does not always settle questions," replied his uncle, "for it is by no means an unknown occurrence for a gallery itself to christen some doubtful picture. But to go on:—
"In Venice there is but one painting by Giorgione which is undoubtedly authentic. I will take you to the Giovanelli Palace, where it is. It is called Family of Giorgione. He was fond of introducing three figures into his compositions,—you remember the Pitti Concert,—there are also three in this Giovanelli picture—a gypsy woman, a child, and a warrior. The landscape setting is exceedingly beautiful, and the whole glows with Giorgione's own color.