Fig. 265. Titian. “Sacred and Profane Love.”—Borghese, Rome.
The Three Ages was probably painted about 1512, the far more famous poesy, misnamed Sacred and Profane Love, Figure [265], is two or three years later. The sumptuous variety and richness of Titian are here at their height. Luminous marbles, pearly nude forms, lustrous stuffs, dark shimmer of foliage and sun-swept slopes of grass seem created merely to set off their respective beauties of hue and texture. Purples, azure, rose, saturated greens form a sonorous chord of colors which is so satisfying that one scarcely asks why a Cupid stirs the waters of a magic fountain, and why a splendidly clothed figure sits tranquilly at the side while a superb nude figure turns impulsively and holds aloft a burning lamp.
Explanations of the fable abound. It is Venus persuading Helen to harken to Paris, or Medea to aid Jason. So the Germans. I am sure only that if we knew the meaning it would be quite as simple as these explanations. My friend, the late William P. Andrews, suggested that we have a lovely symbolism for the inquietude of maidenhood and the composure of matronhood—love in prospect and retrospect. The universality of the interpretation is in its favor. Titian’s mind worked socially and concretely. Plainly the nude figure is reminiscent of Giorgione’s listless beauty by the fountain in the Pastoral Concert, Figure [257]. Titian’s maiden lacks something of the momentary grace and spontaneity of her model, but has in compensation a fuller grandeur.
Fig. 266. Titian. Flora.—Pitti.
Perhaps the ideal portrait of Flora (1515–16), in the Pitti, Figure [266], should be reckoned with the poesies rather than with portraits. In material beauty few Titians excel it. The curded whites of the drapery vie with the flushed ivory of face and bosom. The sweetness of the impression is almost awe-inspiring. What a world it is that thrusts forth carelessly such beauty as this! Think of Giorgione’s quite similar Shepherd with the Pipe, Figure [259], and imagine again the twilight mystery with which he would have invested this apparition. Titian on the contrary thinks and feels like every man, but with an intensity and clearness quite his own. The lyrical and subjective note is incidental and superficial in him even when he most seems to resemble his lost comrade.
Titian’s progress in composition is best noted in the religious pieces. From the first he seeks to break up the old inert symmetries. He invents active balances, brings the main thrusts to the sides of the pictures rather than to the centre. Thus even his Conversation Pieces gain implications of action and energy. In the altar-piece of St. Peter with Donors, at Antwerp, perhaps as early as 1502, and still somewhat in Bellini’s style, we find the enthroned figure moved to the side and the accessory figures arranged in a processional approach. The somewhat later altar-piece of St. Mark at the Salute, painted probably in 1504, Figure [267], again evades the old central symmetries. The Saint is enthroned off centre and his position gains great energy and novelty from its elevation and consequent foreshortening. The four plague saints keep the old symmetry, their types are partly from Bellini (the St. Sebastian), partly from nature. The structure in glowing shadow is that of Giorgione. We trace the same evasion of old symmetries and the same Giorgionesque fire in the Baptism of Christ, in the Capitoline at Rome, and Christ and Mary Magdalen, at London. Such pictures with their slightly conscious emphasis prepare the way for the more assured and sonorous harmonies of the great altar-backs of the ’20s.
Fig. 267. Titian. St. Mark with Plague Saints.—Salute.