[75] A class of artists so called, from their excessive use of deep shades and dark colours. Tr.
[76] There was an attempt to revive it, made in Florence. Roscoe, in his "Life of Lorenzo de' Medici," (vol. ii. p. 220, 6th ed.) relates, that, with Gherardo, Lorenzo associated Domenico Ghirlandajo to work in mosaic at the chapel of San Zenobio: but that this undertaking, so admirably begun, was interrupted by Lorenzo's death; insomuch that "his attempts," observes the historian, "were thus in a great degree frustrated." This honour appeared to be reserved for Venice.
VENETIAN SCHOOL.
THIRD EPOCH.
Innovations of the Mannerists of the Seventeenth Century. Corruption of Venetian Painting.
A sort of fatality seems to prevail in all human things, rendering their duration in the same state of short continuance; so that after attaining their highest elevation, we may assuredly at no distant period look for their decline. The glory of precedency, of whatever kind, will not long remain the boast of one place, or in possession of a single nation. It migrates from country to country; and the people that yesterday received laws from another, will tomorrow impose them. Those who today are the instructors of a nation, will tomorrow become ambitious of being admitted in the number of its disciples. Numerous examples might be adduced in support of this proposition, but it would be quite superfluous. For whoever is even slightly acquainted with civil or literary history, whoever has observed the passing events of the age in which we live, will easily furnish himself with proofs, without the aid of writers to direct him. We have already traced the same revolution of affairs in the art of painting, in the two schools of Rome and Florence, which, arriving at the zenith of their fame, fell into decay precisely at the period when that of Venice began to exalt itself. And we shall now perceive the decline of the latter, during the same age in which the Florentine began to revive, in which the school of Bologna acquired its highest degree of reputation; and what is still more surprising, seemed to rise by studying the models of the Venetian. So indeed it was: the Caracci were much devoted to Titian, to Giorgione, to Paul Veronese, and Tintoretto, and thence formed styles, and produced pupils that conferred honour upon the whole of the seventeenth century. The Venetians, too, studied the same examples, and derived from them a certain mannerism reprehensible enough in them, but much more so in their disciples. These, devoting themselves in their first studies to more classical artists, and attaining a certain practice both in design and colouring, next aimed at displaying upon a grand scale, figures, not so much taken from life, as from engravings and pictures, or from their own imaginations; and the more rapidly these were executed, the better did they suppose they had succeeded. I am inclined to believe, that the examples of Tintoretto proved, in this respect, more prejudicial than useful. Few were ambitious of emulating his profound knowledge, which in some measure serves to veil his defects; but his haste, his carelessness, and his grounds, they more willingly adopted; while his great name was advanced as a shield to cover their own faults. And the earliest of these, not yet unmindful of the maxims of a better age, did not rush blindly into all these errors and excesses; but by their superiority of spirit, and by their tints, maintained their ground better than the mannerists of the Roman and Florentine styles. But to these succeeded others, whose schools degenerated still more from the ancient rules of art. We advance this without meaning the least imputation upon really good artists, who flourished even during this period; for an age rarely occurs in which good sense becomes altogether extinct. Even during the barbarity of the dark ages, we meet with specimens of some marble busts of the Cæsars, and some of their medals, which approach a better taste; and thus also in the age we are describing appeared geniuses, who either wholly, or in great measure, kept themselves free from the general infection; "et tenuere animum contra sua sæcula rectum." Propert.
Jacopo Palma the younger, so called to distinguish him from the other Palma, his great uncle, was an artist who might equally be entitled the last of the good age, and the first of the bad. Born in 1544, after receiving the instructions of his father Antonio, a painter of a confined genius, he exercised himself in copying from Titian, and the best of the national artists. At the age of fifteen years he was taken under the patronage of the Duke of Urbino, and accompanied him to his capital. He afterwards spent eight years in Rome, where he laid a good foundation for his profession, by designing from the antique, copying Michelangiolo and Raffaello; and, in particular, by studying the chiaroscuros of Polidoro. This last was his great model, and next to him came Tintoretto; he being naturally inclined, like them, to animate his figures with a certain freedom of action, and a spirit peculiarly their own. On his return to Venice, he distinguished himself by several works, conducted with singular care and diligence; nor are there wanting professors who have bestowed on him a very high degree of praise, for displaying the excellent maxims of the Roman, united to what was best in the Venetian School. It is observed by Zanetti, that some of his productions were attributed by professors to the hand of Giuseppe del Salviati, whose merit, in point of design and solidity of style, has been already noticed. The whole of these are executed with peculiar facility, a dangerous gift both in painting and in poetry, which this artist possessed in a remarkable degree. Though he made the greatest exertions to bring himself into notice, he was little employed; the post was already occupied by men of consummate ability, by Tintoretto and Paul Veronese; and these monopolized all the most lucrative commissions. Palma, however, obtained the rank of third; chiefly by means of Vittoria, a distinguished sculptor and architect; whose opinion was adopted in the distribution of the labours even of artists themselves. Displeased at the little deference shewn him by Robusti and Paul, he began to encourage Palma, and to assist him also with his advice, so that he shortly acquired a name. We have related a similar instance in regard to Bernini, who brought forward Cortona against Sacchi, at Rome, besides several more, productive of the greatest detriment to the art. So true it is that the same passions prevail in every age, every where pursue the same track, and produce the same results.
Nor was it long before Palma, overwhelmed with commissions, remitted much of his former diligence. In progress of time, he became even yet more careless, until upon the death of his eldest rivals, including Corona, who in his latest works had begun to surpass him, free from competition he asserted unquestioned sway, and despatched his pieces rapidly. His pictures, indeed, might often be pronounced rough draughts, a title bestowed upon them in ridicule by the Cavalier d'Arpino. In order to prevail upon him to produce a piece worthy of his name, it became requisite, not only to allow him the full time he pleased, but the full price he chose to ask, without further reference, except to his own discretion, in which truly he did not greatly abound. Upon such terms he executed that fine picture of San Benedetto, at the church of SS. Cosmo and Damiano, for the noble family of Moro. It resembled many of those he had produced in his best days at Venice, and in particular that celebrated naval battle of Francesco Bembo, placed in the Palazzo Pubblico. Other valuable specimens are found scattered elsewhere, in part mentioned by Ridolfi, and in part unknown to him. Such are his Santa Apollonia, at Cremona, his San Ubaldo and his Nunziata, at Pesaro, and his Invenzione della Croce, at Urbino, a piece abounding in figures, and full of beauty, variety, and expression. His tints are fresh, sweet, and clear, less splendid than those of Paul, but more pleasing than in Tintoretto; and though scantily applied, they are more durable than those of certain foreign pictures more heavily laid on. In the animation of his figures he approaches the two preceding artists, particularly in his more studied works, as he has shewn in his Chastisement of the Serpents, a picture that seems embued with horror. In every other instance he has always sufficient art to please; and it is surprising how a man who led the way to the most corrupt period in Venice, as it has been observed of Vasari at Florence, and of Zuccaro at Rome, could thus exhibit so many attractions, both of nature and of art, calculated to feast the eye, and to fix the soul of the spectator. Both Guercino and Guido were sensible of the power of his pencil; and when examining one of his altarpieces, at the Cappucini, in Bologna, "What a pity," they exclaimed, "that the master of such a pencil should be no more." (Boschini, p. 383.)
In observance of my plan of accompanying each master with his train of followers, I set out with Marco Boschini, a Venetian, who flourished during this same deterioration of a nobler age. He was a pupil to Palma, and has left some memorials of the different professors of the third epoch, not to be met with in any other work. Professing the art of engraving, rather than that of painting, he had, nevertheless, so much merit in the latter, as to approach the manner of Palma, in his picture of the Supper of our Lord, in the Sacristy of San Girolamo; as well as that of Tintoretto, as we gather from a few of his altarpieces in the territory of Padua, and his pictures for private ornament, remaining at Venice, at least as far as I can learn. He was the author of several works recorded in the preface to this work, the most remarkable of which is composed in Quartine, with the following title; and, by this production, he is perhaps best known: "The Chart of pictorial Navigation, a Dialogue between a Venetian senator (a dilettante) and a professor of painting, under the names of Ecelenza and Compare, divided into eight venti, or winds, with which the Venetian vessel is borne into the deep Sea of Painting, as its Absolute Mistress, to the confusion of such as do not understand the loadstone and the compass."