VIRGIN AND CHILD, FROM THE ALTAR-PIECE BY ANDREA VANNI IN S. FRANCESCO, SIENA
Taking this altarpiece, then, as a fairly characteristic example of Vanni’s mature style, I shall bring before the reader’s notice a series of works, at present under other names, one and all of which share with it, in a greater or a less degree, all the peculiarities which I have already pointed out, as well as others to which I have not yet drawn attention. Not the least among these works, in size and in importance, is a picture of the Enthroned Virgin and Child, popularly known as the Madonna degli Infermi, in the church of S. Francesco at Siena. Those who have once seen this strangely impressive painting will not be likely to forget it. The colossal Virgin is seated upright on her throne, majestic and solemnly hieratic, the grave-visaged Child supported on her arm. There is something enigmatic, mysterious, superhuman, in the commanding grandeur of the figures, which the photographic reproduction[102] can but partially convey. They remind us of some of the works of early Byzantine art, in their strange impassiveness and impersonality, far rather than of those of late fourteenth-century Siena. The panel has been cut down, and evidently once formed but part of an even more imposing whole. The flesh parts have darkened as if by smoke, and now have the colour of mahogany; the glazings and the surface coatings have entirely disappeared. The picture is traditionally attributed to Pietro Lorenzetti, but there can be no question as to its real author. Let us compare it with the central panel of the S. Stefano polyptych. Even in its present damaged state, the analogies which it offers to that painting are so apparent that it is more than surprising some passing critic, or even some local art-historian, has not long ago given it back to its true painter, striking and important picture as it is. The similarities between the two Madonnas seem hardly to require comment. The same clearly-outlined figure, the same sedate pose, the same dark mantle with its golden border and broad and simple folds, the same head, eyes, nose, and mouth, the same hands—to dwell longer on these points would be merely to waste words. Here we have, beyond a doubt, another work of Andrea Vanni, belonging to the same period as, and sharing all the characteristics of, the S. Stefano polyptych—only in a severer and grander vein. As if in support of our conclusions, Tizio tells us that at about the same time Andrea painted his great picture for S. Stefano he executed still another similar work for the friars minor of S. Francesco. Doubtless this present panel once formed part of the work to which he refers, nor would it be stretching a point too far to say that its present half-ruined condition is probably due to damage suffered during the disastrous conflagration which, in 1655, wrecked the great building wherein it stood and destroyed so many of its treasures. ¶ But this, to my mind, is not the only work by Vanni still to be seen in this same restored church of S. Francesco. In the last chapel of the north transept is an imposing fresco of the Virgin seated with the Child in an elaborate architectural throne. It is generally attributed to Ambrogio Lorenzetti, and has been published with his name. As it now stands, this fresco has been almost entirely renewed, but enough of its original spirit still remains to afford the practised eye some slight idea of its primitive state. The incised outlines are still virtually unchanged, and the forms of the figure and the broad folds of the drapery have preserved, to a great extent, their original character. As is usually the case, the faces have undergone the greatest transformation, yet even here the original features have not been entirely lost. Quite enough remains, in fact, to convince me that in this case also we are in the presence of what was once an important work of Andrea Vanni. The entire figure of the Virgin, the peculiarly marked outline, the dignified position, the oval head, the narrow eyes, and the straight nose, the characteristic and tell-tale folds of the voluminous mantle, their peculiar arrangement about the feet, the long wrist and hand, still pierce through the modern covering of repaint, clearly revealing the touch of Vanni’s brush. ¶ In far better condition, and far easier of identification, is the half-length panel of the Virgin and Child—evidently once part of a larger work, but now cut down to fit an oval frame—in the chapel of the SS. Chiodi in Siena. This picture, usually given to Barna, was surmised, but only surmised, by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, to be a possible work of Vanni. The reasons for their hesitation are rather difficult to find, and they were certainly correct in their conjecture, for the work is as evidently by Vanni as is the great Madonna of S. Francesco. But here we have our painter in a very different, far gentler, almost playful, strain. As usual, the Virgin is seated sedately upright on her throne, clad in the conventional dark mantle, fastened, as in the fresco of S. Francesco, by a splendid golden clasp. The head and face are the same in shape and features as in the other panels; the expression less serious and solemn. The Child is pleasing in type and action. With one hand to His mouth, He presses with the other His Mother’s bared breast as He looks half shyly towards the spectator. Here again there is none of the hieratic solemnity of the S. Francesco panel. The colour—apart from the repainted mantle—is warmer, and the modelling of the flesh parts softer, than in the picture of S. Stefano, but the forms and details are the same. ¶ Somewhat similar in spirit to this last-named work are two other panels, one in the church of S. Spirito, the other in S. Giovanni in Pantaneto, better known as S. Giovannino della Staffa. The first of these is a full-length figure of the Virgin holding in her arms the Christ-Child, who plays with a bird. At the foot of the throne kneels a diminutive figure of the donor, cap in hand. The Virgin sits in the upright position common to all the pictures we have so far examined; she has the same bend of the head, the same stereotyped set of features. The architecture and perspective of the throne are the same as in the picture of the SS. Chiodi and the fresco in S. Francesco. The Child is not unpleasing in action and expression. The figure of the Virgin has suffered considerably from repaint, the mantle being in great part quite new. The original colour is bright and gay, but the execution is less careful than in most of Vanni’s works, and would lead us to place this panel in the last years of his activity, when his brush had lost some of the freshness of its touch, were it not for the energetically, and at the same time carefully, executed little figure of the kneeling donor, damaged and darkened but still intact—a remarkable piece of early portraiture, finely characterized. Judging from the shape of this panel, it also once formed part of a triptych or polyptych. The Madonna of S. Giovanni has suffered far more from restoration, the figure of the Christ-Child being here almost entirely repainted. The still pleasing Virgin displays Vanni’s usual type, and differs but slightly from the Madonna in S. Spirito, although originally it may have been a more carefully executed figure. Still another picture, a charming little Annunciation, in the possession of Count Fabio Chigi at Siena, also clearly shows Andrea’s hand: it is very careful in execution and graceful in movement—far more free in this respect than the similar but severer treatment of the subject in the polyptych at S. Stefano. The types are Vanni’s usual ones, the colour is quiet and subdued.[103] ¶ But finer in quality and in a better state of preservation than any of these works, is a little picture of the Virgin and Child belonging to Mr. Bernhard Berenson, at Florence. That it is by Vanni needs no urging on my part—a moment’s comparison of the accompanying reproduction with any of the paintings which we have already examined is sufficient to prove this very obvious fact. It would be hard to imagine a more characteristic and at the same time a more charming example of his work. Yet in some ways it differs considerably from the paintings we have so far studied, especially in its more painstaking and finished execution, and in its light golden tone of colour, so very unlike that of such works as the Madonnas of S. Spirito and the SS. Chiodi. Although not without the dignity which Vanni never fails to give her, the Virgin in Mr. Berenson’s picture is less sedately grave than in the panels at S. Francesco and S. Stefano—the Child less grown-up and solemn. Both, again, are in Vanni’s softer, more gentle mood. Belonging to Mr. Berenson also, we have another panel by Andrea, painted in a very different style and spirit. It represents the Deposition from the Cross, and must have been part of a predella to an altarpiece. Derived from Ambrogio Lorenzetti’s treatment of this sublime theme, it yet is more restrained, more intellectual, and more clearly arranged.
LONDON STEREO CO.
MADONNA AND CHILD BY ANDREA VANNI IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. BERNHARD BERENSON
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LARGER IMAGE
DETAILS OF THE ANNUNCIATION BY ANDREA VANNI IN S. PIETRO OVILE, SIENA
The famous portrait of St. Catherine which I have already mentioned, and which is too well known to require description, and the Crucifixion in the Belle Arti—a fragment of a larger work painted in 1396—would bring this particular list of Vanni’s works to a temporary close,[104] were it not for still another painting, perhaps even more interesting than any of these, which to my mind must also be classed with them. In the church of S. Pietro Ovile, at Siena, we find a beautiful free copy of Simone Martini’s famous Annunciation, now in the Uffizi gallery. This picture has aroused the admiration of numberless tourists and the curiosity of more than one writer on Siena’s art. Apart from its traditional attribution to Simone and Lippo Memmi themselves, it has undergone a series of widely different baptisms at a variety of hands; from a trecento it has become a quattrocento painting, and so back again. It has long been my conviction, as it has been that of no less an authority on Sienese painting than Mr. Berenson before me, that this picture is a work of Andrea Vanni. I am quite well aware of the surprise which this sudden attribution will cause to many, as I am also of the difficulties in proving my point with the limited and unsatisfactory aid which photographs afford. In an article supported only by photographic reproductions, that most important of all arguments, quality, and, as in this case, the hardly less convincing one of colour, must in great part be laid aside. Nevertheless, there remains, in this particular instance, so much that can be demonstrated by photographic evidence in support of Vanni’s claims, that I shall make the attempt. ¶ Of the history of the Annunciation now in S. Pietro, nothing appears to be known. As it now exists it stands no longer above an altar, but is let into the wall of the church. In shape and size it was evidently once quite similar to Simone’s original, but it has since been cut down and shortened at the sides and bottom. The three panels which now surmount it have nothing to do with the picture itself, and are the work of two different painters of the quattrocento—the Crucifixion is probably by Giovanni di Paolo; the two figures of St. Peter and St. Paul by Matteo di Giovanni, as we see him in the remains of the altarpiece at Borgo S. Sepolcro, which once contained, as its central panel, Piero dei Francesci’s Baptism of Christ, now in London. They were probably placed in their present position at a relatively recent date. As to its condition, the picture has evidently not always enjoyed the care that is now given it, for it is considerably damaged and darkened. The hand of the restorer has not been absent, alas! and there are, unfortunately, visible traces of his brush in the heads and hands, and in the Virgin’s draperies. ¶ That we have here a copy, and in some ways a fairly close one, of Simone’s famous picture, is obvious; that it was painted directly from Simone’s original, which was at that time in the cathedral of Siena, is no less certain; that it was painted by an artist who was throughout seeking to overcome the peculiarities of his own somewhat strongly marked style, and that he was but partially successful in so doing, is also apparent. ¶ Let us examine the work more closely, and in its separate parts, commencing with the figure of the Virgin. It shows but little of the ease of movement and grace of line to be found in Simone’s original. The high-waisted figure; the stiff, upright, almost rigid, position; the line of the shoulders and the knees; the peculiar poise of the head; the straight-falling folds of the drapery and the line of the mantle as it catches the arm in its downward flow: all are points which find their counterpart in the works of Vanni, and in those of no other painter. Here, also, we have the same simple, strongly-marked outlines, the same dark field of colour relieved, pattern-like and comparatively flat, against the lighter background. Although the blue of the Virgin’s mantle has darkened considerably, it is still apparent that her figure was always fairly innocent of modelling—far more so in fact than that of Simone’s Virgin. For Simone, with all his love of outlined pattern, does not stop at this—his contour, however clear and distinct, is far more flowing, far more subtle—his mass is far less flat and unrelieved. Although the painter of the S. Pietro copy has tried more or less faithfully to copy the arrangement of Simone’s drapery, he has done it, perhaps despite himself, in his own way. The folds in the copy have an entirely different character from that which they possess in the original; they are precisely what we might imagine Vanni doing in an attempt to be particularly graceful. But if all these points in the drapery and figure remind us so unmistakably of Vanni’s style, we discover in the Virgin’s head even closer affinities with that master’s other works. The same well-rounded cranium and oval face; the same narrow eyes, with the small half-covered iris and high-arched brows; the same long straight nose (still clearly recognizable as Vanni’s, despite scaling and later retouching); the identical mouth; the same inclination of the head and its peculiar setting on the neck; the same chin; the same long, slender hands: all are to be found in one or other of the works we have already mentioned, and especially in Mr. Berenson’s Madonna. Here we have, also, Vanni’s love of gold brocade in the Virgin’s under garment and in the hangings of the throne. The figure of the angel is no less characteristic. The drapery is here incontestably Vannesque in its peculiar, not over-graceful, folds. Here, again, is the clear outline, the slight modelling, and the sparing use of chiaroscuro, the same treatment of the draperies, the long hands and thin arms, as in all Vanni’s other works. The outline of the face, chin, and neck has been damaged and gone over, and the peculiar, straggling, dark-brown curls are a later addition, and contrast strongly with the lighter golden hair behind them. Apart from these slight changes, the head, although a would-be copy of Simone‘s, shares Vanni’s characteristic features. The cherubs about the Holy Spirit already point to the end of the trecento. The roman lettering of the inscriptions we find used likewise on the scroll held by the Christ-Child in Mr. Berenson’s picture. ¶ So much for material resemblances, of which the reader may gather some idea by means of the accompanying illustrations. And now a word as to the colour of the work. Its striking resemblance, in this respect, to the Madonna of Mr. Berenson’s collection, will not fail to carry conviction where there may before have existed only persuasion. In the general quality of technique, and more especially in the remarkable golden tone of colour and the peculiar treatment of the flesh, the two works are strangely alike, and cannot help but do away with any final doubts as to their community of authorship.