Umbria
There was something very exclusive and absorbing about Umbrian art, for excursions into the secular world and above all into the ancient classics, were forbidden ground for its adepts not more through religious scruples than through want of knowledge. In Perugia he received his first lessons and became familiar with the methods of the Umbrian School. However, Perugia was not the only town in Umbria which assisted at the début of Raphael, for he received very cordial hospitality from Città di Castello.
Umbria had become a second country for Raphael, the first being his native Urbino. While he underwent the influence due to the beauty of its sites and the mystic tendencies of its inhabitants, the Umbrians themselves became much attached to him, and it was owing to their spirit of generous piety that he was able to execute some of his most admired pictures. These encouragements were necessary to preserve him from the sufferings which, after the departure of his master, Perugino, he would have undergone, and Raphael showed his gratitude by remaining amid the Umbrian mountains until he went to reside at Rome in 1508.
If he still adhered to the types peculiar to the Umbrian school, especially in the Madonnas, it was because Umbria itself supplied him with a number of these soft and pensive countenances in which the depth of religious contentment stood instead of beauty. For a spiritualist like him, the painting of the soul was a nobler task than the painting of the body. There is already a good deal of landscape in these pictures, and in the background of the Conestabile Madonna (vol. 1, p. 35), the chain of mountains was painted from nature in the neighbourhood of Perugia. Raphael had, perhaps, been to visit Lake Trasimene, for in the perspective may be seen a broad expanse of water upon which fishermen are rowing a boat. In his first landscape efforts, Raphael, like Perugino, endeavours to substitute simplicity of outline and breadth of design for the minuteness and the aridity of the Umbrian painters.
Trinity Banner: The Holy Trinity with St Sebastian and St Roch, c. 1499. Oil on canvas, 166 x 94 cm. Pinacoteca Comunale, Città di Castello
This banner is still in existence, but in a state of ruin. It has been removed from the Church of the Trinity, for which it was painted, to the town gallery of Citta di Castello. Raphael did not deem it beneath his dignity to accept this order, knowing that the most illustrious painters were glad to paint those banners which held the place of honour in the processions, and which were generally as well-paid as oil paintings. The Umbrian school had, so to speak, the monopoly of them, and Perugino had set his pupil the example by painting fourteen small standards for the Panicale Church, in which they were used for the Corpus Domini procession.
On one side of the banner Raphael has represented God the Father seated on a cloud of glory and holding a crucifix in both hands, while above Him hovers the Holy Ghost. At the bottom are to be seen St Sebastian to the left and St Roch to the right, both on their knees, and with their eyes lifted towards God. Upon the reverse side God is depicted advancing towards Adam, who is asleep, while above are the figures of two angels. Passavant, from whom these details are taken, adds that the paintings are on slightly prepared canvas, and that they have a blue border ornamented with gilt tracery and palms; the letter R traced upon the hem of the garment worn by God stands for the signature, and the whole work, though conceived in the style of Perugino, has more breadth and grace, especially in regard to the landscape.
Bust of an Angel, detail from the Coronation of St Nicholas of Tolentino (from the Baronci Altarpiece), 1500-1501. Oil on wood, 31 x 27 cm. Pinacoteca Tosio Martinengo, Brescia
The Coronation of St Nicholas of Tolentino, executed for the church of Sant'Agostino, remained at Città di Castello until 1789, when it was sold for the sum of £200 to Pope Pius VI. The picture was on panel, and difficult to move on account of its size; as it was only injured in the upper part, the Pope had it sawn in two, so as to make a complete picture of the lower part, while the figures in the higher part formed distinct pictures. These fragments were to be seen in the Vatican until after the entry of the French army into Rome in 1798, when they were undoubtedly sold by auction together with Raphael’s tapestries and many other objects which have since disappeared.
Thanks to the descriptions of Lanzi and Pungileoni, and thanks also to two drawings preserved respectively at Oxford and Lille, it is possible to furnish a tolerably clear description of the picture. According to Lanzi, Raphael represented St Nicholas as being crowned by the Virgin and St Augustine, who are half-hidden in a cloud. Beneath St Augustine’s feet is the prostrate figure of the demon, and to the right and left are two angels holding inscriptions in honour of the saint. In the upper division is the majestic figure of the Almighty surrounded by a glory of angels. A sort of temple with pilasters charged with ornaments after the manner of Mantegna, forms a framework for the composition, and the draperies are of the period. It will be remarked in this drawing that Raphael, instead of representing the devil in his conventional hideousness, has given him the appearance of a dark figure.
Angel Holding a Phylactery, detail from the Coronation of St Nicholas of Tolentino (from the Baronci Altarpiece), 1500-1501. Oil on wood, 58 x 36 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris
The Lille sketch differs but very slightly from Lanzi’s description. St Nicholas, placed in the centre, is holding a book in one hand and a cross in the other, and is naked. Above is the half-length figure of a young man in the close-fitting dress of the period – this was a study for the figure of the Almighty – while the two flanking figures are the Virgin and St Augustine, both half-length. The whole is enclosed between two pilasters surmounted by a full arch.
The Coronation of St Nicholas of Tolentino is not at all in keeping with the traditional view, and another painter would, as Lanzi has remarked, have grouped his figures around the throne of the Virgin, and have engaged them in one of those ‘pious conversations’ which were so much in vogue during the 15th century. Raphael, on the contrary, concentrates all the interest of his picture upon the Saint in whose honour it was painted; his composition is, in reality, an apotheosis which celebrates both the victory of St Nicholas over the demon, who lies prostrate at his feet, and his celestial triumph. The vigour of this conception should be compared with the soft outlines and general want of character to which Perugino and his scholars were so prone. Raphael is not content with simply carrying out an old programme with unusual skill; he distances his predecessors by his invention as well as by his style.
The Crucified Christ with the Virgin Mary, Saints, and Angels, or The Mond Crucifixion, c. 1502-1503. Oil on poplar, 283.3 x 167.3 cm. National Gallery, London
The Crucified Christ, which from the Gavari Chapel in the Dominican church has found its way, after many vicissitudes, into the National Gallery in London, is among the most important of Raphael’s youthful productions. The subject, it must be admitted, was scarcely adapted to his genius, and one can understand his taking refuge in ready-made ideas. In proportion as he displays inspiration and spirit when he has to represent grace and beauty, so does he give evidence of indecision in the portrayal of passion or grief – at all events during his early period, so that one would fancy that the idea of evil and suffering could find no place in so ethereal a mind. While Michelangelo astonishes and terrifies us by the spectacle of moral and physical tortures, Raphael is the interpreter of tranquil and pure feelings, and fails whenever he attempts to force his talent; for even The Entombment, many as are its beauties, betokens too much effort. It follows, therefore, that the predominant feature in The Crucified Christ is that of meek resignation, without any of that poignant suffering which Giotto, Mantegna, and Signorelli put into their compositions.
Crowning of the Virgin (from the Oddi Altarpiece), 1502-1504. Oil and tempera grassa on wood, transferred onto canvas, 272 x 165 cm. Pinacoteca Vaticana, Musei Vaticani, Vatican City
Soon after the departure of his master (Perugino), a lady belonging to one of the most powerful families of Perugia, Maddalena degli Oddi, instructed him to paint for the church of St Francis the Crowning of the Virgin. As the Oddis were banished after the fall of Caesar Borgia, in August 1503, this work, vast in its dimensions, must have been executed in the early part of that year.
This picture is composed of two distinct parts. One contains the Apostles assembled around the tomb of the Virgin, just as in pictures of the Assumption; in the other, Christ is seated on the clouds, amid a glory of angels, placing a crown upon His mother’s head. Several of the Apostles are looking upwards, and we can see Christ and His mother above them. This action suffices to connect the two scenes and give complete unity to the whole.
The moment selected by Raphael is that at which the Apostles have reached the tomb of the Virgin. Several of them are astonished to find that it is empty, and look into the sarcophagus in which lilies and roses have taken the place of the body. While some, among them St Paul, are overcome with astonishment, others are looking heavenwards for an explanation of the mystery, and their eyes beam with delight at the joyful spectacle which meets their gaze.
Underneath the Crowning of the Virgin there was formerly a ‘predella’, upon which were traced, in much smaller dimensions, scenes in the lives of the Virgin and of Christ, which supplemented the principal picture. This predella, though separated from the main part of the work, is in the Vatican. Raphael’s predella represents in three compartments divided by red arabesques on a black ground, The Annunciation, The Adoration of the Magi, and the Presentation in the Temple.
Presentation in the Temple (panel of the predella of the Oddi Altarpiece), 1502-1504. Oil and tempera grassa on wood, transferred onto canvas, 39 x 190 cm. Pinacoteca Vaticana, Musei Vaticani, Vatican City
Here, Raphael selected, as for The Annunciation, an architectural framework, at once simple and imposing. In the centre of the composition stands the aged Simeon, who is the only personage with a halo, and he takes the new born Child from Mary with a gesture full of grace and modesty. But the Child is afraid of the stranger, and turns towards His mother, stretching out His little arms as if to implore her help. This is one of those touches of nature which testify to Raphael’s originality in observation. St Joseph completes this group, the arrangement of which is perfect. At the two extremities of the picture are the men to the left and the women to the right, one of the women carrying the traditional turtle-doves as a gift. The costumes are those of the 15th century, red, black, or green shoes, felt headdresses of fantastic shapes, and long mantles.
The Annunciation (panel of the predella of the Oddi Altarpiece), 1502-1504. Oil and tempera grassa on wood, transferred onto canvas, 39 x 190 cm. Pinacoteca Vaticana, Musei Vaticani, Vatican City
The scene in which Mary receives from the heavenly messenger the assurance of her future greatness takes place beneath a lofty and elegant portico, supported by Corinthian columns. There is an unimpeded current of air through this beautiful and harmonious piece of architecture which tells one of the Renaissance, and the quiet landscape in the background adds to the serenity and spaciousness of the composition. A framework such as this was well calculated to bring the figures into relief, so that Raphael had no need to multiply them in order to bespeak attention for them. To the right, the Virgin is seated, with a book on her knee, slightly bending the head, and full of candour and resignation; to the left is an angel, who is rapidly advancing towards her with extreme joy depicted on his face; and in the background, soaring in the air, is God the Father, confirming the promise borne by His messenger; these are the sole actors in this scene, at once so complete and so harmonious.
The Adoration of the Magi (panel of the predella of the Oddi Altarpiece), 1502-1504. Oil and tempera grassa on wood, transferred onto canvas, 39 x 190 cm. Pinacoteca Vaticana, Musei Vaticani, Vatican City
There was much in such a theme both to tempt and to intimidate a beginner, but Raphael was not to be stopped by the latter consideration, and set to work with unflinching courage. To the right, near a ruined hovel, the Virgin is seated with her Son upon her knees, to whom one of the kings is offering rich presents. The Virgin is radiant with joy, while the attitude and visage of the Child express both curiosity and surprise. Behind the principal group, Raphael, by one of those bold inspirations for which he is remarkable, has placed three Shepherds, who, by the simplicity of their costume and the modesty of their offering (a lamb), contrast with the splendour of the three kings. Hitherto, the two scenes – the Adoration of the Magi and that of the Shepherds – had always been represented separately. By putting them into one, the artist showed how thoroughly he had mastered the meaning of the Gospel, and how well he had learnt to bring out the human and touching side of its pages.
We shall have more than one opportunity of referring to his biblical knowledge, which was proved even thus early to be far in advance of that displayed by all other artists of the period. The remainder of this composition is in keeping with its commencement, though framed in a different spirit, as the two other kings and their suite, made up of dashing horsemen, are gazing in pensive admiration at the spectacle before their eyes, while the scene is completed by some splendidly drawn horses. The left group is put together with consummate art, and Raphael, outdoing his master, has hit upon a flow of line, a balance of masses, and a freedom and correctness of movement to which Perugino could never attain.
St Michael Overwhelming the Demon, or The Small St Michael, c. 1503-1505. Oil on wood, 30 x 26 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris
The picture of St Michael is of a different order, for while St George is represented in the act of combat, the archangel’s triumph is unchallenged. He has no need of the proud charger which would alone have sufficed to immortalise the first picture, and his armour is given him more as an ornament than as a means of defence. He might have dispensed with the shield and its red cross on a white ground, which protects his left arm, for, coming as the messenger of divine justice, he wings his flight from heaven and puts his feet on the demon, who struggles vainly against him. He has only to bring down the sword which he holds in his right hand to terminate the unequal combat. His beauty, his tranquil mien, and the light which environs him, show that his is a purely moral victory, and in order to accentuate the supernatural character of the scene Raphael has represented it as being enacted in the middle of hell. A hideous owl, horrible dragons, figures of the damned devoured by serpents or bowed down beneath the weight of leaden capes form the cortège of Satan, and a sinister light is cast upon the background by a town in flames.
St George and the Dragon, or The Small St George, 1503-1505. Oil on wood, 29 x 25 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris
There can be no doubt that in his pictures of St Michael and of St George, painted for Guidobaldo, he meant to symbolise the defeat of Caesar and the triumph of the Montefeltros. These free and bold allegories are just suited to his genius. To embody in official colours the combats and the achievements of his patrons would, in his view, be unworthy of him, and he deemed it necessary that the contemporary struggles and the passions of the age should be presented in an allegorical form, which should be as enduring as the virtue of patriotism itself.
I know nothing more proud and lifelike than this St George: Raphael, obeying the injunction of the poet, transports us into the very centre of action. Mounted upon a magnificent white horse with arched neck, covered with bright armour, the saint has charged the dragon and struck him full in the chest. But the shaft of the lance has broken, the pieces are scattered on the ground, and the monster, howling with agony and rage, rushes after his assailant, whose horse is galloping off. Like the skilled horseman that he is, St George pulls the horse up short, and, brandishing his sword, makes ready to deal a final blow at the dragon. This is the moment of the fight which the artist has depicted. The horse is trembling, the dragon is howling and writhing: the princess, terror-stricken, takes to flight: the whole scene is full of life and passion. The St George is a masterpiece of colour as well as of composition, and Raphael shows us by his judicious selection of tones and by his vigorous and distinct touches that he was equally in his element as a painter and as a draughtsman. Nothing can be more delicate and harmonious than this picture, all the details of which are completely worked out. The red saddle brings out the whiteness of the horse, and in turn forms a telling contrast with the steelarmour of the saint. Then, again, the red and white fragments of the lance light up the sombre tones of the landscape, and help to give the whole scene a marvellous amount of animation and spirit.
Allegory, or The Vision of a Knight, c. 1504. Oil on poplar, 17.1 x 17.3 cm. National Gallery, London
For the first time we see Raphael painting a lay subject, and treating it with a grace and an elevation worthy of the most eminent masters, and no doubt he would have enriched the world of art with many such pictures, if he had not by the force of circumstances been brought back to the more immediate service of religion.
He went for his subject to those Middle Ages so rich in poetry which Boiardo and Pulci had brought to life again, and he evoked that chivalry which, with its generous aspirations and knightly deeds, was worthy of comparison with the heroic episodes of antiquity. The form of a dream or vision given to the scene adds, if possible, to the delicacy and depth of the artist’s conception. Exhausted by the fatigue of a long journey, a Knight, as rich in the gifts as in the illusions of youth, is sleeping beneath a laurel tree. Like a true warrior, he has not taken off his armour, and he has made a pillow of his shield. During his sleep, two women appear to him, both marvellously beautiful, different as is their expression one from another. One, pensive and grave, though her features are instinct with grace and sweetness, holds out to him a sword and a book, as if to incite him to warlike deeds and study. Her yellow tunic and flowing robe of purple give additional nobility to her carriage. The other, her rival, has a more coquettish garb. The red hue of her tunic brings into relief the brilliancy of her blue dress shot with rosy tints; she wears round her throat a coral necklace, and a white veil floats at the back of her head, while she holds in her hand a flower, the emblem of games, pleasures, and worldly amusements. This is Voluptuousness, such, at least, as it appeared to the ingenuous imagination of Raphael, the antithesis of austerity rather than of purity, and representing, may we not say, the genius of Antiquity in contradistinction to that of Christianity.
Thoughts such as these must have more than once flitted through his brain when he left Umbria. Not that he ever hesitated as between pleasure and labour, but a new world was opening before him, and amid the profane society which he frequented in Urbino and Florence, there were many convictions which he would be called upon to sacrifice. These were the complex struggles which Raphael sought to depict in his dreaming knight, but while intending only to interpret his personal feelings, he traced a story eternally true and eloquent. Such is the privilege of genius.
The Sposalizio or Marriage of the Virgin was painted in 1504 for the Church of St Francis. In all pictures of this subject the general arrangement is almost identical; in the centre is the high priest taking the hands of the betrothed to join them together, while right and left the rivals of Joseph show their disappointment by breaking the rod which has borne no flowers, and the companions of Mary are looking on with an air of satisfaction or pensiveness; the background of the picture is a temple in a landscape.
In Raphael’s picture there is a world of candour and modesty in the expression of the Virgin, the very way in which she gives her hand to the high priest shows by itself that the work is that of a born painter, of a subtle observer, of a true poet. The companions of Mary are meet sisters of those women of Florence with whom Ghirlandaio has peopled the choir of Santa Maria Novella. They are full of grace and distinction, and the whole group has a vivacity and picturesqueness hitherto unknown in the Umbrian school, the influence of which is, however, apparent in the figures of St Joseph’s rivals, whose heads are without energy of expression. This is because Raphael learnt to portray feminine beauty long before he knew how to embody the qualities of pride and force which are peculiar to men. He was born to paint Madonnas and angels.
The background of the Sposalizio deserves special mention, for though apparently imitated from Perugino’s work, it is original in the best sense. Only a man of genius like Raphael could thus dare to follow in the footsteps of his master, confident of overcoming the obstacles that to him had proved insurmountable. In Raphael’s picture, a polygon temple, which would have done credit to any architect, takes the place of Perugino’s hybrid edifice, and the whole background is full of light and air.
The young artist, who here shows much in common with his compatriot, Bramante, was, with good reason, proud of his work, and instead of merely signing his initials in a corner, as he had hitherto done, the words Raphael Urbinas, MDIIII appear in full on the facade of the temple.
The Madonna and Child Enthroned with Saints, c. 1504. Oil and gold on wood, central panel: 169.5 x 168.9 cm; lunette: 64.8 x 171.5 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
This is one of the most masterly and one of the sweetest specimens of Raphael’s early style. The composition is extremely simple. The Virgin is seated upon a throne surmounted by a canopy, holding upon her knees the divine Infant, who is giving His benediction to the infant St John the Baptist. St John, encouraged by the tender expression of Mother and Child, advances towards the latter with clasped hands, his features and attitude being alike expressive of ingenuous fervour. The two female saints at the side of the throne are perfect models of grace, with a tinge of melancholy which cannot escape notice. The male saints in the foreground are distinguished by a breadth of treatment and a majesty beyond anything we have seen in Raphael’s previous works. One of them, St Peter, has an expression of severity rather than of benevolence, and one seems to recognise the passionate though generous-hearted disciple who cut off the ear of Malchus. The other, the great Apostle of the Gentiles, is absorbed in the perusal of a book. Like his companion, he is of the traditional type, having the high and broad forehead and the long black beard so generally ascribed to St Paul, while St Peter is to be recognised by his curly white hair and his short thick beard. The background of the picture is a landscape, the outlines of which are very hazy, though it breathes a delightful calm. In the spandrel which surmounts the altarscreen, Raphael has represented God the Father giving His benediction with one hand and holding the globe in the other. At His side float two cherubim, while two angels with outstretched wings adore their Creator, one with his hands crossed on his breast, and the other in the attitude of prayer.
Raphael had never previously executed a work so perfect in detail and so harmonious as a whole, and thenceforward lie succeeded in combining the expression of life with that of beauty. His characters here acquired individuality, they became living beings; there is an infinite variety and elevation in the sentiments expressed, from the aweful majesty of St Peter to the indefinable expression of dreaminess in the two female saints.
The Camalduli of Perugia having asked Raphael to decorate one of the walls of the sacristy of their monastery of San Severo, he gladly acceded to their request, being very anxious to try his hand at fresco painting. The subject selected was the gathering of the saints of their order around the mysterious Trinity. While respecting the perhaps excessive symmetry of the Umbrian school, he distributed his figures with more freedom, put more life into the groups, and created a work which was absolutely faultless as regards arrangement.
The top of the fresco, which is inclosed within a Gothic arcade, contained at first God the Father, who held in His hand the mysterious volume inscribed with Alpha and Omega. But this figure has long since disappeared, as also has one of the two angels who were depicted as standing right and left of the Almighty. A white dove, from whose body are emitted rays of light, descends upon the head of Christ, who is enthroned upon the clouds in the centre of the composition, and thus unites the figures of Father and Son. The latter, with bare breast and shoulders, extends His bleeding hand, as if to recall His martyrdom, while He raises the other as if to give His blessing. A large mantle covers His knees as in Fra Bartolommeo’s Last Judgement, and His head is surmounted by a cruciform halo. His countenance wears a singularly soft and serene expression, while by His side are two saints of very feminine type, who adore Him with uplifted hands. Six saints, seated upon the clouds and forming a semicircle, occupy the lower part of the composition: some are gravely discussing with each other, while the rest are absorbed in thought. To the right we see St Romualdus, St Benedict the Martyr, St John the Martyr (whose head has quite disappeared); and to the left St Maurice, St Placidus, and St Benedict.
The colouring is in keeping with the severity of the composition. There is a predominance of white in the draperies; the purple mantle of Christ, the dalmatic in red and gold brocade of St Benedict the Martyr, and the green dalmatic of St Placidus, alone vary the somewhat monotonous hues.