In the right-hand panel is a St. Martin on horseback cutting off half his cloak to give to a beggar. He is attired in a green tunic, over which is a golden coat with a design picked out in red lines; the cloak which is being cut is of a bright scarlet. In the left-hand panel we see St. Gregory holding a crucifix in his hand, with a dove on his shoulder; he is attired in pontifical robes—a richly embroidered cope of cloth-of-gold adorned with a red pattern, and figures of saints in niches along the border. Above is a lunette representing the Crucifixion, with the Virgin, St. Mary Magdalen, St. John, and other figures at the foot of the Cross, and some cherubs. The robe of the Virgin is of a rich deep blue, those of the others red or green. In the background is of gold. The predella is divided into three panels; in the centre one is a St. George and the Dragon, very spirited in composition, and quite in Carpaccio’s manner, with a charming pale blue landscape in the background and a glimpse of the sea. In the right-hand division we see a saint receiving a mitre from two bishops, and surrounded by other bishops, monks, choir-boys, &c. To the left a pope in a golden robe is being crowned by two cardinals; all round is a host of cardinals, bishops, Dominicans and Franciscans, and behind a landscape with smaller figures. The faces are all very pale, and somewhat northern in character, but those of the Virgin and Child in the principal panel are of great tenderness and feeling. In the colouring lies the chief merit of the picture; it is indeed exceptionally rich and brilliant, especially in the robes, which are characteristic of the painter’s work. The whole is enclosed in a handsome carved frame, divided by pillars into compartments. The groundwork of this frame is dark blue, with designs picked out in gold, and adorned with arabesques of a good Renaissance pattern.
Triptych by Niccolò Ragusei in the Dominican Monastery
(St. John the Baptist, St. Nicholas, St. Stephen, St. Mary Magdalen, and St. James)
On the high altar of this same church is another picture, also attributed to Raguseo. It contains figures of the Virgin and Child, St. Nicholas, St. George, St. Blaize, and St. Francis. It is altogether inferior to the one on the north wall, in a much worse state of preservation, and almost hidden under silver ornaments, plaques, ex-votos, and artificial flowers.
In the Dominican church there are quite a number of early pictures, some of them evidently the work of Raguseo. To the right of the high altar is a large triptych, with St. Stephen the Protomartyr in the centre, St. James and St. Mary Magdalen to the right, St. Nicholas and St. John the Baptist to the left. The St. Stephen is seen absolutely full face, looking straight out of the picture, with an expression of calmness and benevolence. The Magdalen has also a very sweet look, and is beautifully painted. The robes, as in the Dance pictures, are all very rich and splendid, especially that of St. Stephen, which is of gold, with the pattern diapered in dark lines and adorned with figures of saints along the border.
To the left of the high altar is another triptych in the same style: the Virgin and Child, the former with a lily in her hand and the moon lying at her feet, surrounded by cherubs, in the centre; St. Paul and St. Blaize to the right; St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine to the left. The St. Blaize bears in his hands an interesting model of Ragusa, in which one can make out three large towers and several small ones. The gold background has been restored, and is rather too garish.
In a side chapel is yet another Raguseo—a Madonna and Child, supported by St. Julian, St. James, St. Dominic, and St. Matthew. The drawing is bold and strong, perhaps more so than in any of the artist’s other works, and some of the faces, especially that of the Child, very fascinating: the robes, as usual, are magnificent. That of the Virgin forms a curiously stiff platform, on which the infant Christ is standing. Below are two little angels, one holding a lily and the other roses. In the background is a faint suggestion of landscape. Unfortunately, the lower part of the picture has been barbarously mutilated to make room for a window.
These, with the possible exception of one or two more paintings in the Isola di Mezzo, are the only known works of this artist. Who he was, what was his story, where he worked, remain a mystery. From the date on the Dance triptych we learn that he flourished at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and it is fairly certain that he must have studied in Italy. His style distinctly shows traces of the influence of Crivelli’s school, and in this, as in other arts, the Dalmatians continued to work in the older manner long after it had been abandoned in Italy. Professor Gelcich doubts if this painter were really a native of Ragusa at all, arguing that if he had been he would not have called himself Rhagusinus in his own city. It is of course unusual (though not unheard of) that an artist should call himself by the name of his own town while actually living in it; but in this case he may have done so because the Ragusans were so used to having their pictures painted by foreigners, that when a native of the town actually painted them the fact was worthy of being especially recorded. But it is mere conjecture, as there is no mention of him or of his work in any known document. Perhaps some day a record of his life may be found in some forgotten MS., or obscure municipal entry, or in the list of the pupils of some Venetian master. Professor Eitelberger says that these pictures “bear some resemblance to certain paintings in the Marca of Ancona; it is not impossible, however, that even from Apulia some influence may have reached the Ragusan painters, but we have too little information to enable us to express an opinion as to the connection between the Ragusan school and that of Italy.”[521]
Appendini says nothing about Raguseo, although he speaks of some other native artists whose works are nearly all lost. It will be sufficient to recall the names of Pietro Grgurić-Ohmučević, who painted some pictures at Sutjeska[522] and flourished about 1482; Vincenzo di Lorenzo, who in 1510 decorated a church and monastery at Trebinje; Biagio Darsa, author of a pictorial globe and some studies of perspective; and Francesco da Ragusa, one of whose works is said to be in Rome, and another at Brescia (1600-1620). We may also mention the handsome altar in the Franciscan sacristy, the work of a painter and a sculptor, both unknown; it is constructed in the form of a press or cabinet, and is adorned with some excellent gilt carving and a number of paintings, of which the most important is a Resurrection of Christ. Internally it is also painted, but by a later hand.
There are at Ragusa several pictures by foreign painters, but with few exceptions they are of little merit. The most interesting is undoubtedly the small triptych in the cathedral by a Flemish artist, which was carried by the Ragusan ambassadors when they went to Constantinople with the tribute to the Sultan as a portable altar. The subject is the Adoration of the Magi. In the centre panel the Virgin is seated with the Child on her lap: He is kneeling and extending His right hand to the oldest of the kings, who has placed his sceptre and gifts at the feet of the Saviour; behind Him is another king also offering gifts, and through the arches at the back one sees a landscape. On the left-hand wing stands the third king, a Moor, and behind him is a group of figures and a landscape. On the right is a bald-headed man in a rich robe, probably the donor, with a castle in the background. This work is undoubtedly of the Flemish school, and, according to Eitelberger,[523] is reminiscent of Memling. “The technique,” he says, “is extraordinarily careful, and the picture, in spite of having been damaged by wax candles, is yet so well preserved that it needs only the hand of a good restorer for it to make a great impression even on the uninitiated. The head of the Virgin has an expression of lovingness and purity such as is peculiar to the Flemish school alone.” As to how it found its way to Ragusa we know nothing. Eitelberger conjectures that it must have come from Naples, as the Republic was in constant intercourse with that city, which in its turn had connections with Flanders, and the Neapolitan painters were greatly under the influence of Flemish art. But it is quite possible that it came direct from the Low Countries to Ragusa, where, as we have seen, there was a colony of Flemish merchants.