Rome
Madonnas and Portraits
Although in the Madonnas and Holy Families of his Florentine period Raphael has often sacrificed the expression of religious sentiments to that of more human feelings, such as maternal affection, the joys of youth, etc., in the compositions executed at Rome Religion reasserts her fullest rights, and the master returned to the traditions of the Umbrian school, but with a brilliancy and power of style which had little in common with the teachings of Perugino. Working under the direction of the Pope and addressing himself to all Christendom, “Urbi et orbi,” he gave to the fundamental doctrines of his religion all the elevation in the power of art.
Never since the great and austere creations of the primitive Church, since the struggles of the faith in the Middle Ages, had painting told its story so eloquently; grandeur of conception, beauty of form, brilliancy of colour, all unite in making Raphael’s Madonnas the most perfect expressions of Christian art. Other compositions, of equal celebrity, complete the cycle.
The primary ideas of triumph and deification, which characterise the Madonnas of the Roman period, are also found in the representations of the Eternal Father, of Christ, and of the Saints. Strife and suffering are rarely presented to us. With the exception of the Christ Bearing His Cross, of the Descent from the Cross, and the Pietà in the Louvre, Raphael during his last years only cared to express the greatness of Jehovah, seen in the Loggia, the mosaics in the Chigi chapel, The Vision of Ezekiel, the frescoes of the Magliana, or the glory of Christ, whom we see, as in The Transfiguration, glowing with a superabundant light. The glorification of the martyrs completes the brilliant group, which realised the aspirations of the artist, the hopes of his friends, and the demands of a court ever eager for pomp and splendour.
The Madonna of Loreto was painted by order of Cardinal Riario for the Basilica of St Maria del Popolo in Rome, where it remained a long time, together with a portrait of Julius II. The Virgin is here raising the veil which covers the child, whilst St Joseph contemplates the scene. In one of the Madonnas of the Bridgewater Gallery (vol. 1, p. 88), Raphael has again represented the Virgin at half-length, the infant Jesus lying in His Mother’s lap has taken hold of the veil which covers her head and is looking at her with affection.
The Madonna and Child with the Infant Baptist,. or The Garvagh Madonna, c. 1509-1510. Oil on wood, 38.9 x 32.9 cm. National Gallery, London
The Madonna of the Aldobrandini family, which from the collection of Lord Garvagh has passed into the National Gallery of London, displays a severity which strongly contrasts with the grace of the Alba Madonna (p.117). In this picture, one of the gravest and most noble of Raphael’s works, is seen, more than in all the preceding ones, the influence exercised over the artist by the beauty of the Roman women, so different from those whom he had painted in Umbria and Tuscany. The model employed pleased him so much that he repeated her nearly without change in the Madonna with the Standing Jesus (collection of Lady Burdett Coutts).
The Alba Madonna, c. 1510. Oil on panel, transferred onto canvas, diameter: 94.5 cm. Andrew W. Mellon Collection, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
The Alba Madonna, now at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., recalls, both in composition and style, the Madonnas of the Florentine period. Sitting on the ground in the midst of a rich landscape, Mary holds a book in one hand, while with the other she draws the little St John towards her Son. The former is kneeling, and brandishing his little cross with childlike joy. The eyes of the Mother are turned fondly on the two children.
We reproduce two drawings, by means of which we may study the method of the artist. His first model for the general grouping was a man, whom, however, we shall find transformed in the second drawing into a perfect Madonna, and in another step the final composition is completed.
Madonna of Foligno, 1511-1512. Tempera grassa on wood, transferred onto canvas, 308 x 198 cm. Pinacoteca Vaticana, Musei Vaticani, Vatican City
For beauty of conception, freedom of handling, and harmonious colour, the Madonna of Foligno, painted about 1511-1512, is greatly superior to the works we have already studied, and among all Raphael’s Madonnas that of San Sisto alone can be placed above it. Seated in the clouds in a golden glory, her Son standing by her side, Mary, at once shy and happy, casts her eyes down towards the donor, Sigismondo de’ Conti, who is kneeling below clothed in the superb scarlet mantle worn by the Pope’s private chamberlains. Innumerable angels surround the Queen of Heaven, making the air vibrate with their joyous chants. The Child, while playing with his Mother’s mantle, follows the glance of her eyes, and smiles at the devout old man who worships Him. Upon the earth, which is illumined by a rainbow and covered with luxurious vegetation, St John the Baptist and St Francis are offering homage to the divine couple, while St Jerome presents the donor to the Holy Mother. Here we must quote the words of a contemporary, Vasari, who describes the Madonna of Foligno in terms to which posterity can add but little:
One sees in St John the Baptist [says Vasari], the traces of the fasts which he had imposed on himself. St Jerome, wrapped in thought and with eyes raised to the Madonna, has a face full of the wisdom of which he has given proof in his writings. His portrait is so lifelike that it appears almost alive. The figure of St Francis is not less beautiful; kneeling with arms extended and head raised, he feels himself strengthened and consoled by the gentle regard of the Holy Mother, and by the vivacity and beauty of her Child. In the centre of the picture, below the Virgin, and with his head raised towards her, Raphael has represented a lovely child holding a cartouche. Lastly, the landscape comprises all beauties and all perfections.
It is supposed that Julius II is one of the first portraits done by Raphael in Rome. All the world knows this wonderful portrait, in which the artist has risen to the greatness of his model, and has rendered with a force and fire of which we should hardly have thought him capable, the perspicacity, the energy, the passion of that man of steel who was known as Giuliano della Rovere. This is the true Julius of history, pondering his vast projects, never dejected by adversity, but prompt to take fire upon the slightest provocation, and the picture is so real that, to use Vasari’s words, “the great Pope seems to tremble as though he lived”. Everyone, as we have said, has heard of this picture, yet who knows where to find the original? Many examples lay claim to the honour [two more are preserved in the Palazzo Pitti, in Florence, and in the Uffizi].
Be this as it may, whichever Julius II we may finally recognise as the original, the picture remains one of the greatest creations of the 16th century.
The only fresco painted by Raphael for a private patron in the time of Julius II was The Prophet Isaiah in the Basilica of Sant’Agostino, ordered by the Luxemberger Society. Of this fresco Vasari tells a curious tale:
Bramante, who had the keys of the Sistine Chapel, took Raphael there secretly to study the work of Michelangelo. After this visit Raphael began his picture of Isaiah over again, although it was already completed. It shows how greatly his style was ennobled by the sight of Michelangelo’s productions. When Buonarroti returned and saw the Isaiah he guessed what had happened, that Bramante had betrayed his trust in order to add to Raphael’s glory.
We do not know how much of this story is true, but it is obvious that the design of the Isaiah was greatly influenced by the style of Michelangelo, so far as the restoration, to which the fresco was subjected in the 16th century (1555) by Daniele da Volterra, will permit us to judge.
The first important work which he carried through for Chigi was The Loggia of Galatea, which was painted in fresco in one of the saloons of the banker’s new villa.
The origin of the Galatea, according to some, must have been inspired by the Icones of Philostratus; according to others, by the Golden Ass of Apuleius. But the differences between the descriptions of these two authors and the fresco are so great that we are forced to reject both hypotheses. Neither is there any necessity to go so far afield for an explanation. As early as 1557, Dolce, in his Aretino, referred the Galatea of Raphael to the stanzas in which Politian celebrated the same nymph. The poem of which those stanzas form a part, the Giostra, appeared for the first time in 1494, and by 1515 ten editions had been issued. What can be more natural than to suppose that the favourite poet of Lorenzo the Magnificent, the tutor, too, of the reigning Pope, was popular at the court of his pupil, Leo X, and that Raphael had read his works? All doubt on the point is cleared away when we examine the points of analogy between the description of the writer and the composition of the painter. The reader may judge for himself from the following simple analysis of the poet’s argument. After having told us how Polyphemus attempted in vain to melt the hard-hearted nymph by his songs, Politian shows us Galatea placed upon a car and drawn by two graceful and kindly dolphins, which she guides with reins. A crowd of nymphs and tritons play about her, and she joins with her companions in deriding the rude chants of the Cyclops.
Sistine Madonna, 1512-1513. Oil on canvas, 269.5 x 201 cm. Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, Dresden
The Madonna di San Sisto (Sistine Madonna), the gem of the Dresden Gallery, has been long called the latest of Raphael’s Madonnas. It is worthy of remark that no study for the painting in Dresden is known to exist. The Madonna di San Sisto would appear then to have been the product of a single act of conception, the outcome of a sudden inspiration. Nothing could be more simple than the composition, yet what art there is in this simplicity!
The action passes in regions where all is light and poetry. All notion of time and place is lost; the earth is no longer visible; the balcony placed along the bottom of the painting, against which the two cherubs lean with eyes raised to the Queen of Heaven, alone recalls us to reality. Two curtains, drawn to each side, frame the composition, and accent in some degree its supernatural character. They discover Mary soaring in the clouds, holding in her arms the divine Infant. The sweetness of her features is equalled only by their nobility; art has created no face more ideally divine.
Her Son, on the other hand, has lost the candour and naivete we have hitherto admired in Raphael’s ‘bambini’. The serious mouth, the earnest expression, the ruffled hair, all proclaim the future judge of quick and dead. Below the divine pair, paying them homage and sharing their glory, two figures rest upon the clouds, the one full of majesty, the other of grace; the first is the pope St Sixtus, his tiara beside him, the second, St Barbara. Countless cherubim form a background to the vision, and spread around it a mysterious light. By one of those dramatic contrasts which abound in Raphael’s works, the one saint lowers her eyes, while her companion raises his to Mary. And yet the St Barbara seems to have been profane enough in her origin! Compare her head with that of the facile nymph in the foreground of the Galatea, round whose waist the triton knits his brawny arms. Has not one model sat for both?
St Cecilia, 1513. Oil on wood, transferred onto canvas, 236 x 149 cm. Pinacoteca Nazionale di Bologna, Bologna
After the glorification of the Virgin comes that of the saints. In his illustrations of the Martyrology or of the Golden Legend, Raphael was inspired by principles analogous to those which made his Madonnas and Holy Families so successful. He was intent on creating ideal figures, on personifying the virtues which were dearest to him, on uniting beauty with truth. The view of strife attracted him less than that of triumph; his St Cecilia and St Margaret overflow with happiness. Yet the dramatic element is not wanting in them; even in those works in which the action is reduced to the extreme of simplicity the artist has been able to create, by ingenious contrasts, not only life and interest, but even emotion.
The St Cecilia is the most celebrated of these paintings, and it is not overrated. This chef-d’oeuvre of the Bologna collection deserves to occupy a place by itself, not only on account of its powerful colouring and intensity of expression, but also for the loftiness of its idea. Nothing could be more original or brilliant than this conception of a subject so often dealt with before Raphael, from the time of Donatello to that of Signorelli. The artist disregards tradition, carries us into the vast realms of harmony, and shows us a glimpse of a truly boundless horizon. The touching legend of the Roman girl is forgotten in sight of the splendid glorification of the art which is placed under her protection.
Like the Crowning of the Virgin, the Disputation over the Most Holy Sacrament, the Madonna of Foligno, and The Transfiguration, the painting in Bologna contains two parts, the one celestial, the other terrestrial. In the sky, six angels, resting upon the clouds (one of the finest of painted groups), are discoursing divine music. On the earth four saints stand round St Cecilia, and listen with rapture. In the midst, Cecilia herself, with eyes uplifted, appears to be in an ecstasy; she has dropped the instruments formerly so dear to her – the violin, the triangle, the cymbals; even the organ, sacred in its superiority, is slipping from her hands. St Paul, who is next to her, forgets all else in the enjoyment of the divine melody; with downcast eyes, and his chin resting on his right hand, the left placed negligently on his sword, the impetuous champion of the faith, the fiery Apostle of the Gentiles, is lost in profound reverie. Facing him, St Mary Magdalene turns toward the spectator, as if to invite him to share her feelings. Finally St John and St Augustine, further back, give themselves up to their delight, and express the intensity of their emotion to each other, both by look and gesture.
Holy Family with Raphael, Tobias, and St Jerome, or The Madonna with a Fish, 1513-1514. Oil on wood, transferred onto canvas, 215 x 158 cm. Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid
The Holy Family with Raphael, Tobias, and St Jerome (or Madonna with a Fish) is at once the most grave and the most touching of Raphael’s Madonnas. A youth with long fair curls, the young Tobias, is about to present to the Virgin the miraculous fish whose liver has restored his father’s sight. In his respectful fervour he hardly dares approach the throne, and the angel who acts as his protector draws him towards the Queen of Heaven. Mary casts on the suppliant looks in which nobleness and gentleness are combined, while her Son, rising on her knees, extends towards him His right hand as if to give him His blessing; the other He lays upon the book which St Jerome is reading. His meditations thus interrupted, the Saint looks across to the group on his right. This is the theme in all its grand simplicity. One feels inclined to believe that the painter has reproduced an actual scene. The faces and attitudes are most natural, there is great exactitude in costumes and accessories, and when we look at the fish which the young Tobias holds in his hand we are convinced that the most realistic of the early masters could not have painted it with more truth. St Jerome’s lion has also been painted from nature, and, moreover, has been most carefully studied. These details have great importance, as they give to the composition that look of reality which astonishes and enchants us; but although Raphael sometimes borrowed from his predecessors, he is far superior to them in harmony and freedom of movement, and in colour, which is brilliant even when compared with Velázquez and Murillo.
The significance of the Madonna with a Fish has been often discussed. The most satisfactory explanation has been given perhaps by Passavant. It appears that diseases of the eye are and were very prevalent in Naples, and a chapel was erected where persons so afflicted customarily went to pray. As Raphael’s Madonna was painted for this chapel, it was natural that the artist should introduce into it the young Tobias with the fish which cured his father’s blindness. As to St Jerome, he probably was introduced as having translated the first book of Tobias and being chiefly instrumental in its being added to the Bible.
At Santa Maria della Pace he caused the Four Sibyls to be painted in company with the Prophets, and it should be remarked that the former alone were from the actual hand of Raphael, the execution of the Prophets being entrusted to Timoteo Viti. At Santa Maria del Popolo an opportunity was made, in representing the Planets, for celebrating the chief deities of Olympus.
Vasari considered the Sibyls the masterpiece of Raphael. “These are,” he said, “the most beautiful figures ever painted by the master.” Without wishing to go quite as far as the old biographer, we do not hesitate to acknowledge our sympathy with the great admiration which he expresses for these figures. Both in expression and in general arrangement they are among the most perfect of their author’s works. In nobility and elegance the three youngest are worthy of the muses of the Parnassus, while the aged Tiburtina is distinguished by a majesty which is almost terrible. Old and worn, her head covered by a veil, her hands convulsively grasping the ledge upon which she sits, the urn upset beneath her feet, the book falling from her knees, she stares before her with haggard eyes that seem to penetrate the future. Nothing could be more dramatic than this personification of an antique prophetess, such as Virgil painted. In creating her, Raphael came nearer to the Sibyls of his great rival than in any of the others. But although he was inspired by the creations of Michelangelo, he did not copy them; both types and attitudes were characteristic of no man but himself. Now that we have referred to the great painter of the Sistine, we may take the opportunity of saying that it was from him that Raphael borrowed the happy idea of giving to each Sibyl an attendant genius or angel, who bears the book of her prophecies. In the frescoes of the Pace this happy innovation has been used, with the utmost skill, to take away the appearance of stiffness and monotony to which such compositions had previously been condemned. These winged figures, full of grace and movement, serve to draw closer the principal actors in the scene, and to add to the rhythm and unity of its lines.
Madonna della Seggiola (or Sedia), c. 1513-1514. Oil on wood, diameter: 71 cm. Palazzo Pitti, Florence
It is scarcely necessary to say, that, in this development, Raphael took care not to break entirely with his past. Opposed, alike by temperament and conviction, to all system, he gave full scope to the inspirations of his genius, confident of never making a false step. We have proof of this in the Madonna della Sedia (The Madonna of the Chair), which, though known to have been created in Rome, is so natural and spontaneous, that one would rather have supposed it painted on the banks of the Arno. This well-known masterpiece is justly considered the highest, and, at the same time, the most popular, type of maternal affection.
Portrait of Bindo Altoviti, c. 1515. Oil on panel, 59.7 x 43.8 cm. Samuel H. Kress Collection, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
Bindo Altoviti, born on September 24, 1491, was also famous for his wealth and liberality. A Roman by birth, but of a Florentine family and related on his mother’s side to Pope Innocent III, Bindo from the first devoted his fortune to the encouragement of art. Raphael, Michelangelo, Jacopo Sansovino, Benedetto da Rovezzano, Vasari, and Benvenuto Cellini, were of his friends and familiars. Like most of his contemporaries he was equally fond of ancient and modern art, and Cellini tells us in his Memoirs that Bindo’s cabinet was “Molto riccamente ornato di anticaglie e altre bella cose.” [“Very richly adorned with relics and other beautiful things.”] Aldrovandi, in his Description of Roman Statues, completes this information, and speaks of the Imperial busts, the statues, and the sarcophagi which decorated the Altoviti palace, near to the bridge of St Angelo. Raphael became very intimate with this young man, whose portrait he has left us, and he also painted for him a Holy Family, the Madonna dell’Impannata, now in the Pitti Palace. In his portrait we see a youth full of health and vigour, with long fair hair reaching to his shoulders, with frank blue eyes and a laughing mouth, betraying one of those expansive natures which Raphael loved.
Bindo, however, was no epicurean but a man of martial spirit, as he showed when, at the moment of Cosmo de’ Medici’s expedition against Siena, the ancient rival of Florence, he put himself at the head of 300 men, whom he had equipped at his own expense, and marched to the succour of the Republic. But his effort was not crowned with success, and Bindo, defeated and humiliated, came back to Rome to die (January 22, 1556).
Baldassare Castiglione was a native of the marches of Mantua, and, born in 1478, he was five years the senior of Raphael. His family, connected with the Gonzagas, gave him a brilliant education, and sent him while still very young to the court of Ludovico il Moro, where he perfected himself in physical accomplishments and the knowledge of classic antiquity. The influence of these studies was so great that Castiglione, when he became a diplomatist and a military commander, was not bitten by the overweening ambition which seemed to seize upon all the dwellers in Rome. Castiglione was not only one of the greatest poets of his age, but he was a very good judge in matters of art. His influence upon Raphael, whose genius he was one of the first to discover, was very great, and there can be no doubt that he often pointed out to him subjects which it would be worth his while to treat. His advice was not of less value during the actual execution of the pictures, and there is every reason to believe that he, more than anyone else, encouraged Raphael in the study of the antique. He also assisted Raphael in preparing his report to the Pope on the restoration of ancient Rome, proclaiming in enthusiastic terms the greatness of pagan civilisation. Castiglione was a connoisseur, and he was always on the look-out for any rarity, preferring, as he said himself, one really valuable object to fifty commonplace ones; but his modest income did not admit of his making so large a collection as many of his friends.
Baldassare Castiglione sat twice for Raphael. The first of the resulting portraits is now in the Louvre; this chef-d’oeuvre is too well known to need description. We need only draw attention to the tributes of admiration paid by Rubens and Rembrandt, the leaders of the Flemish and Dutch schools respectively in the 17th century, who were both eager to copy it.
Portrait of Cardinal Bibbiena, c. 1516-1517. Oil on canvas, 85 x 66.3 cm. Galleria Palatina, Palazzo Piti, Florence
Born in 1470, Bibbiena was at an early age fortunate enough to attract the attention of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and to be employed as his secretary. In 1494, the downfall of the house of Medici sent him into exile with the sons of Lorenzo, and he took refuge, like Giuliano de’ Medici, at Urbino, when he composed his comedy of the Calandra (the Lark), which passes for the oldest piece in prose on the Italian stage. Notwithstanding its licentious character, it was received with great favour, and soon rendered the author’s name famous. Bibbiena, however, had higher aims than this, and he was eager to make his way in diplomacy, for which he felt that he was peculiarly fitted. His suppleness and dexterity soon attracted the notice of Julius II, and thus gave him the opportunity of rendering great service to several artists, among others to Michelangelo, for whom he once obtained a payment on account of 2,000 gold ducats. But it was during the conclave of 1513 that Bibbiena displayed his great diplomatic talent, and it was mainly to him that Giovanni de’ Medici owed his election. The latter did not prove ungrateful, for on the very day of his election he appointed him Apostolic Protonotary, Treasurer the next day, and six months later, Cardinal, with the title of Santa-Maria in Portico. The high honours and grave responsibilities which devolved upon him did not prevent him from taking part in the amusements of the most brilliant of courts, and he even superintended the theatrical representations of which the Pope was so fond. This excessive suppleness proved his ruin, for being suspected of intriguing with Francis I, to whom he had for a long time been accredited as Nuncio, he lost favour with Leo X, who is even accused of having procured his death by poison.
