DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.53068#0131
ROMAN PORTRAITS
author of the funeral oration, so rich in magnificent similes, over Julius II
before the College of Cardinals. In moments of like inspiration Raphael may
have hit upon such a formula, of an almost Northern intimacy, for the accom-
plished man of learning. One thinks of Holbein and Massys, and may perhaps
also recall that Erasmus was at that time an esteemed guest at the Vaticana
during the regime of this Prefect. For all that, it will be well to reflect that about
the middle of the second decade, when this picture must have been painted
(the sitter died in 1516), Raphael was in advance of all others in this mode of
interpretation. The diptych of Massys with Erasmus and Aegidius dates from 1517.
The favoured humanism of the Vaticana, consecrated by the Purple, finds
expression in this concord of the madder red in the biretta and gown and the
cherry red of the book-edge with the broad passages of pink in the flesh-painting,
which is laid on as in the Swiss Guards in the fresco of the Mass of Bolsena,
with cloudy grey for the shadows and the shaven chin. As long as the second
example at Volterra was known only to a few, no one ventured any more to
enter the lists in defence of the picture in the Pitti Palace. Morelli had the
strange notion, as so often in other cases, of seeing in it a Netherlandish copy.
Even since the picture in the family palace at Volterra was transferred thence
to the Gardner Collection at Boston, the question has not been decisively settled
in its favour; it shows the head a little more en face. The Pitti Palace picture is
unquestionably related to the contemporary wall-paintings; it falls within the
period of Raphael’s freest fresco style.
As regards two famous members of the Sacred College we have, it seems,
only reproductions to inform us that they were painted by Raphael and how
he conceived them. There is an unusually exciting picture in the Naples
gallery that shows Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, the future Pope Paul III.
Visible as far as the knees, with a letter in his right hand, he walks past us in
the foreground of a bright landscape towards the dark walls of a hall. It was
surely Raphael who gave the head its poise on the neck, the eyes their look, and
the hand with the letter its foreshortening; and Titian’s portrait of the aged
Pope at Naples assures us, thirty years later, that the thin-fingered left hand is
faithfully portrayed. This delicate hand shows still the same habit of self-
representation—but the painting is out of keeping with such profound inter-
pretation of character. It is certainly noteworthy that from 1587 onwards this
picture in the possession of the Farnese family always bore Raphael’s name;
it would be better if it showed more consistently the Raphael touch, without
the structureless, oily colour, and without the disturbing, obtrusive landscape
and the clumsy folds of drapery. The narrow upright format, the strong relief,
which do not occur elsewhere, may have been thus chosen by Raphael for the
first time; but in that case the question would still remain whether he could
really have left the lower portion so lifeless.
The portrait of Cardinal Bibbiena in the Pitti Palace has to contend with
113
author of the funeral oration, so rich in magnificent similes, over Julius II
before the College of Cardinals. In moments of like inspiration Raphael may
have hit upon such a formula, of an almost Northern intimacy, for the accom-
plished man of learning. One thinks of Holbein and Massys, and may perhaps
also recall that Erasmus was at that time an esteemed guest at the Vaticana
during the regime of this Prefect. For all that, it will be well to reflect that about
the middle of the second decade, when this picture must have been painted
(the sitter died in 1516), Raphael was in advance of all others in this mode of
interpretation. The diptych of Massys with Erasmus and Aegidius dates from 1517.
The favoured humanism of the Vaticana, consecrated by the Purple, finds
expression in this concord of the madder red in the biretta and gown and the
cherry red of the book-edge with the broad passages of pink in the flesh-painting,
which is laid on as in the Swiss Guards in the fresco of the Mass of Bolsena,
with cloudy grey for the shadows and the shaven chin. As long as the second
example at Volterra was known only to a few, no one ventured any more to
enter the lists in defence of the picture in the Pitti Palace. Morelli had the
strange notion, as so often in other cases, of seeing in it a Netherlandish copy.
Even since the picture in the family palace at Volterra was transferred thence
to the Gardner Collection at Boston, the question has not been decisively settled
in its favour; it shows the head a little more en face. The Pitti Palace picture is
unquestionably related to the contemporary wall-paintings; it falls within the
period of Raphael’s freest fresco style.
As regards two famous members of the Sacred College we have, it seems,
only reproductions to inform us that they were painted by Raphael and how
he conceived them. There is an unusually exciting picture in the Naples
gallery that shows Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, the future Pope Paul III.
Visible as far as the knees, with a letter in his right hand, he walks past us in
the foreground of a bright landscape towards the dark walls of a hall. It was
surely Raphael who gave the head its poise on the neck, the eyes their look, and
the hand with the letter its foreshortening; and Titian’s portrait of the aged
Pope at Naples assures us, thirty years later, that the thin-fingered left hand is
faithfully portrayed. This delicate hand shows still the same habit of self-
representation—but the painting is out of keeping with such profound inter-
pretation of character. It is certainly noteworthy that from 1587 onwards this
picture in the possession of the Farnese family always bore Raphael’s name;
it would be better if it showed more consistently the Raphael touch, without
the structureless, oily colour, and without the disturbing, obtrusive landscape
and the clumsy folds of drapery. The narrow upright format, the strong relief,
which do not occur elsewhere, may have been thus chosen by Raphael for the
first time; but in that case the question would still remain whether he could
really have left the lower portion so lifeless.
The portrait of Cardinal Bibbiena in the Pitti Palace has to contend with
113