A painting brimful of roguishness is "Jacob's Ladder," where angels ascending and descending, making up the dreams of the sleeper, amuse themselves in most innocent fashion. Well known is the charming Christ-Child in the painting of "St. Joseph," and the charming little "John" often fondly painted by him, his arms entwined about his lambkin. Hardy peasant types are not wanting; and that the inspiration of the great Spaniard may not exceed all bounds, there are a few pictures which, with all their artistic excellence make us realize what a chasm separates us from the passionate Catholic Murillo. We believe that full artistic justice may be done to the poetry of Biblical legend without being obliged to glorify a Peter Aubry. However, other lands, other customs!
Of Velasquez's work there should be mentioned, in the first place, his paintings of Philip IV. and the Duke of Olivarez, both of striking characterization in their grotesque ugliness—the master will survive even the one-sided and exclusive cult of which he has been made the victim. We will not set our minds against Velasquez's or Leonardo's "Mona Lisa" just because they are to be found in all the exercises of enraptured modern goslings.
I will not say anything about the "Madonna Conestabile," the "St. George," and the wonderful "Madonna Alba" of Raphael, for I consider it entirely superfluous to combat the affected underestimates of the master of Urbino, which is insisted upon as a matter of party obligation by every imitator of fashion. If Herr Muther prescribes the Botticelli cult for the last years of one century, the rediscovery of the joyous Andrea del Sarto for the first years of a new century, he will, if we live to see the day, prescribe for the century noonday the return to the master of perfection, Raffaelo Sanzio, as the inevitable requirement of fashion, and his disciples will add here their solemn amen. But the eternal masters are above the gossip of salons and fashions.
Sebastiano del Piombo is represented here by a most extraordinary "Descent from the Cross," Correggio by the "Madonna del Latte," Leonardo da Vinci by the light blonde "Madonna Litta," which, like all the works of this master, is questioned, but which bears his imprint as much as any of his works. Of Botticelli there is a very well-preserved "Adoration of the Magi," similar to the Florentine painting. Likewise, here in all the minor figures of the kneeling kings and shepherds, and even of the horses, there is a perfection in the mastery of drawing, the Madonna archaically overslender, with the thin neck of the Primitivists, which, out of respect for sacred tradition, the otherwise bold master did not dare meddle with. Naturally, the modern art mockery sees in this defect of Botticelli's, accounted for by respect for tradition, his chief superiority, and goes into affected raptures at the sensitive figures of his "Primavera," and imitates the studied gestures of those foolish airs which our higher bourgeoisie affect in order to resemble the decadent nobility. But Botticelli really deserves a better fate than to be the fashion painter of the snobs.
Bronzino's picture of a young woman, with quite modern bronze-colored hair and exceptionally small hands, might well be substituted, if fashion chose, for "Mona Lisa" in the modern feuilletons. A Renaissance could easily dedicate a piquant novel to her dreamy, roguish eyes, her soft chin, and her sensual mouth, which would not be contradicted by the rich pearl ornaments in her hair and ears. There is a Judith by the highly beloved master Giorgione, which is far superior in the majesty of her bearing and the beauty of her head to her sisters of earlier and later times. By the side of this noble and historical figure the other Judith, the creation of the wanton and diseased fancy of Klimt—the otherwise prominent but misguided master—appears absolutely odious.
VIII THE HERMITAGE—CONTINUED
A crown of shining jewels is the Titian room, with the Christ, the Cardinal Pallavicini, the Danaë, the Venus, Magdalene, and the Duchess of Urbino. It is a small cabinet, scarcely measuring five square metres, in which is gathered more shining beauty than in many an entire museum. Prominent, however, is the fair daughter of Parma, forerunner of the "Mona Vanna," as Venus dressed, or rather undressed, naked, in a velvet cloak that kindly fulfils its duty only from the hips downward. The goddess gazes at herself in a mirror held by a cupid, while another chubby little fellow is trying to place a crown on her head. She deserves it, this prize of beauty. There radiates from her eyes, her mouth, her shoulders, arms, and hands a splendor such as even this prince but seldom gave to his creations. The curves of the breast, only half covered by the left hand, the navel, and the hips are as soft as if painted with a caressing brush. The heavy velvet cloak intensifies even the remarkable brightness of the body. The Danaë, languidly outstretched on the cushions of her luxurious couch, shuddering under the golden harvest that falls into her lap, is much superior to her rivals in Naples and Vienna. It is the only original that does not disappoint the expectations created by the widely distributed reproductions, for it also is perfectly preserved. The line of the back from the shoulder to the bent knee of the resting young body is of a unique softness; the transition from the thigh to hip is like velvet in the softness of the body; the feet and toes are of classic beauty. The Magdalene again is all feeling. The tears flowing from her eyes, reddened by sorrow, are as real as her contrition; the heavy braids, pressed with the right hand to the full bosom, enable us to understand her sins; but the penitential garment and the desert, where we find her alone with a human skull, compel us to believe in her repentance. The artist's model was, as in the similar work in Florence, his daughter Lavinia.
The school of Leonardo da Vinci is not as well represented; but mention should be made here of "St. Catherine of Luini," if only for the sake of the saint herself, that is fashioned after the same model as "St. Anne," by Leonardo. Somewhat better represented is the Venetian school with a few Tintorettos and Paolo Veroneses. Of the later Italians, we find especially of note, "Mary in the Sewing-School," "St. Joseph with the Christ-Child," and "Cleopatra," by Guido Reni.