"I got among the lanes on Monte Rinaldi near La Lastra, on the Via Bolognese, and soon found myself among the ruined terraces of an ancient garden, where cactus and aloe grew side by side with brambles, periwinkles, and ivy. Having reached an open in the thicket into which I had strayed, I was startled to see the very scene represented by Botticelli about the year 1455 lying at my feet—the wide horizon reaching from San Domenico, and the Apennines beyond Monte Moro, Scala, and Monte Maggio, round the whole Val d' Arno, to San Lorenzo and the northern boundary of Florence. Seated on the same mountain side, where the great painter must have sat four hundred and thirty years ago, and holding my little copy of his landscape in my hand, it was intensely interesting to trace the objects still remaining on which his eye had rested, and which his conscientious pencil had outlined, and to note the changes wrought by time in the aspect of the scene."
Miss Stokes prints side by side with her copy of Botticelli's background a topographical plan of the present scene. The house on the hill above the Mugnone beyond the bridge is the Villa Palmieri, where Queen Victoria stayed in 1888. Boccaccio selected it for one of the homes of his fair storytellers in the Decameron. Matteo Palmieri bought it in 1450. There, no doubt, Botticelli was often a guest, and there the two friends may have planned this great altar-piece. "It is perfectly in keeping with the poetic instincts of sacred painters of the time that this great vision of Heaven should be represented as bursting on the poet in his own very home. Gazing upwards from his cypress groves into the unfathomable blue above, it is as if the sky had slowly opened, and the interior of a vast dome were revealed, rising above three iridescent bands of light, peopled with nine successive zones of sacred forms, all gazing in absorbed ecstasy on the figure of the Divine Mother, lowliest of women, kneeling at the feet of the Redeemer" (pp. 261-264).
1127. THE LAST SUPPER.
Ercole Roberti de' Grandi (Ferrarese: 1450-1496).
This Ercole is not to be confused with the younger painter of the same family (see 1119). Ercole Roberti was the son of Antonio Grandi, also a painter. A drawing attributed to him in the Louvre, representing the Massacre of the Innocents, in which he nearly approaches the grandeur of conception and masterly execution of Mantegna, seems to show that he had either studied under that great painter, or had experienced his influence. Mantua, where Mantegna lived after 1468, is at no great distance from Ferrara. Ercole was employed at the latter place by the dukes, from whom he received a regular salary. Pictures by him are rare, and none is authenticated by his genuine signature. In the Dresden Gallery are two compartments of a predella by him, another being in the Royal Institution at Liverpool. In these and a few other works, including those in our Gallery, Ercole reveals himself as a thorough Ferrarese, in his energetic rendering of life and character, and in his careful study of details (Layard's edition of "Kugler," ii. 351, and Morelli's German Galleries, pp. 109-113).
A very dainty little work. Notice especially the painting of the bas-reliefs and of the decanters. The attitudes of the disciples betoken respect or veneration, except that of the nearest figure, Judas, who turns away his head.
1128. THE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST.
Luca Signorelli (Cortona: 1441-1523).
Signorelli was born at Cortona, on the boundary of Umbria and Tuscany. By early teaching he is an Umbrian, but in style a Florentine. Indeed, his position in the history of art is that of forerunner of Michael Angelo. He was a pupil of Piero della Francesca, with whom, no doubt, he acquired a knowledge of the figure from anatomical study of the nude. His chief works, the frescoes in the cathedral of Orvieto,[219]—executed by the artist after his sixtieth year,—were ten years earlier than the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel by Michael Angelo, who was largely influenced by Signorelli's example. Like Michael Angelo, Signorelli is intensely dramatic, and in pictures which do not allow of the violent action to be found in his frescoes, his figures seem to be instinct with suppressed action. "To no other contemporary painter," says Morelli, "was it given to endow the human frame with the like degree of passion, vehemence, and strength" (Roman Galleries, p. 92). "To this we may add," says another critic, "that no other painter has ever conceived humanity with the same stately grandeur and in the same broad spirit. The confident strength of youth, the stern austerity of middle life, the resolute solemnity of old age—these are his themes. Signorelli is, before all, the painter of the dignity of human life" (Maud Cruttwell, Luca Signorelli, p. 31.) He is a representative also of the literary and classical Renaissance. He is fond of architectural adornments in the style of his time—as in the present picture, where the ceremony takes place in a hall or porch enriched with bas-reliefs in circular panels and paved with square slabs of coloured marbles. He painted the usual religious pictures, but did not adhere to the traditional modes, and often introduced a classical element (see 1133). It is interesting to note that in his picture of some nude Greek gods (at Berlin) the composition is the same as in his regulation church pictures of the Madonna and Saints. Of Signorelli's personal life there is a pleasant account in Vasari, whose kinsman he was. He was a person of consequence in his native city, going hither and thither to paint commissions, and then returning to the discharge of his civic duties. "He lived splendidly, in the manner," says Vasari, "rather of a noble and a gentleman than in that of a painter." Not that he despised his profession, for he expressly advised that his little kinsman should "by all means learn to draw, that he may not degenerate, for even though he should hereafter devote himself to learning, yet the knowledge of design, if not profitable, cannot fail to be honourable and advantageous." Of Signorelli's own devotion to his art Vasari tells another story, which has thus been versified—
Vasari tells that Luca Signorelli,
The morning star of Michael Angelo,
Had but one son, a youth of seventeen summers,
Who died....
Still Luca spoke and groaned not; but he raised
The wonderful dead youth, and smoothed his hair,
Washed his red wounds, and laid him on a bed....
Naked and beautiful....
Then Luca seized his palette: hour by hour
Silence was in the room; none durst approach:
Morn wore to noon, and noon to eve, when shyly
A little maid peeped in and saw the painter
Painting his dead son with unerring hand-stroke,
Firm and dry-eyed before the lordly canvas.Symonds, Renaissance, iii. 281.
Our picture is thus described by Vasari,—for the fact that he calls it a fresco is no argument against the identification, since he often makes such mistakes: "In the church of San Francesco, in Volterra, this master painted a fresco, representing the Circumcision of Christ. This also is considered a wonderfully beautiful picture, but the Child having been injured by the damp, was repaired by Sodoma, whereby the beauty was much diminished. And, of a truth, it would often be much better to retain the works of excellent masters, though half-spoiled, than suffer them to be retouched by less capable artists." Vasari, however, seems to have been "anxious to place Sodoma in a bad light whenever he could. Damp was in all probability not the cause of the restoration of the infant Christ. It was very likely repainted because the public of Volterra disliked the realism with which Signorelli seems to have treated the subject" (Richter, p. 48). Signorelli's children are curiously ugly: it seems as if he had no sympathy except in the painting of figures of powerful maturity. Of the fact of the repainting recorded by Vasari there is no doubt; for the position of the legs has been altered, their original action being distinctly shown by the incised outline still visible through the deep blue colour of the Virgin's robe. The painting of the other figures is "bold and resolute, the draperies sweep in broad folds round them. The attitude of the standing woman to the right is grand, and the earnest concentration of the faces on the ceremony, and the absence of any connecting link between them and us, give dramatic reality to the scene" (Cruttwell, p. 40). It is interesting to note that the figure of the operator is like the portrait of himself which Signorelli introduced into his frescoes of the Preaching of Anti-Christ at Orvieto: the figure is, moreover, clothed in the dress of the period and of the rich materials in which, Vasari says, the artist took much pleasure in dressing himself. Behind the central group is the aged Simeon, who blessed God and said, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word."