DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.53068#0134
RAPHAEL
Castiglione felt himself attracted. We have an account in Bembo’s letter to
Bibbiena, of an excursion they both made to Tivoli in company with the poets
Beazzano and Navagero; once again, at a later time, Raphael painted his dis-
tinguished friend, who was then staying in Rome as Ambassador of the Duke
of Urbino. The picture was apparently intended as a present for Castiglione
himself; one of these two portraits inspired the Count to poetic paraphrase
in a sonnet—an imaginary dialogue of his wife with this counterfeit which had
to do duty for her absent loved one!
Doubts have been expressed as to whether the portrait could possibly represent
to us the man whose intelligence fulfilled the unexpressed aspirations of Renais-
sance society for harmonious completeness, discussing and outlining them in
his book of the Cortegiano by means of the dialogue form. Not only did the con-
ception of a man of the Renaissance in all its nobility receive from him its
literary form; his book, translated into many languages, may really also have
given a practical import to the trend of the North towards the classical Italian
land. How many travellers first found in that country fulfilment on the lines
of these teachings! It is simply impossible to say how great was the enthusiasm
kindled in the international Court circles of those times by the type of a manli-
ness complete both outwardly and inwardly. In places where the term
“society” was still something more than an empty phrase, its ideal survived
effectively till the verge of our own times.
This man of a profound influence that spread far and wide was conceived
by Titian in a vein of intelligent alertness better suited than its subject to the
eulogy of Charles V at the time of his death: “uno de los maior caballieros de
mondo.” When we seek in vain for this elegant versatility of the courtier in
Raphael’s painting of him, one point has to be taken into consideration: at least a
hand’s breadth is lacking from the bottom of the Paris picture; the chair-arm on
the front part of which the left arm rests was more widely visible, and the hands
also stood clear above the lower frame; at least, Rembrandt drew it so with a
special white spot when he saw the picture in 1639 at the VanUffelen auction
sale in Amsterdam. He joined with enthusiasm in the bidding; beside him sat
Joachim Sandrart, who went up to 3,000 guilders. But they both had to see
the picture carried off by the Spanish Ambassador for 3,500 guilders. Thanks
to his notes on the hastily sketched sheet in the Albertina, Rembrandt retained
from it the motive for his self-portraits. A copy by Rubens exists, with hands,
now in a private collection in Vienna (Plate 121).
According to current views of Raphael’s art and of the Dutch artist’s relation
to it, a work to which Rembrandt took such a fancy about 1640 that he wished
to possess it must really have been quite unlike Raphael. Yet Rembrandt
thoroughly understood the Italians, especially when they painted well. The
noble congruity of the colouring with the imposing contours awakened in him a
response. Thus, it seemed to him, this dignified man once looked out on the
116
Castiglione felt himself attracted. We have an account in Bembo’s letter to
Bibbiena, of an excursion they both made to Tivoli in company with the poets
Beazzano and Navagero; once again, at a later time, Raphael painted his dis-
tinguished friend, who was then staying in Rome as Ambassador of the Duke
of Urbino. The picture was apparently intended as a present for Castiglione
himself; one of these two portraits inspired the Count to poetic paraphrase
in a sonnet—an imaginary dialogue of his wife with this counterfeit which had
to do duty for her absent loved one!
Doubts have been expressed as to whether the portrait could possibly represent
to us the man whose intelligence fulfilled the unexpressed aspirations of Renais-
sance society for harmonious completeness, discussing and outlining them in
his book of the Cortegiano by means of the dialogue form. Not only did the con-
ception of a man of the Renaissance in all its nobility receive from him its
literary form; his book, translated into many languages, may really also have
given a practical import to the trend of the North towards the classical Italian
land. How many travellers first found in that country fulfilment on the lines
of these teachings! It is simply impossible to say how great was the enthusiasm
kindled in the international Court circles of those times by the type of a manli-
ness complete both outwardly and inwardly. In places where the term
“society” was still something more than an empty phrase, its ideal survived
effectively till the verge of our own times.
This man of a profound influence that spread far and wide was conceived
by Titian in a vein of intelligent alertness better suited than its subject to the
eulogy of Charles V at the time of his death: “uno de los maior caballieros de
mondo.” When we seek in vain for this elegant versatility of the courtier in
Raphael’s painting of him, one point has to be taken into consideration: at least a
hand’s breadth is lacking from the bottom of the Paris picture; the chair-arm on
the front part of which the left arm rests was more widely visible, and the hands
also stood clear above the lower frame; at least, Rembrandt drew it so with a
special white spot when he saw the picture in 1639 at the VanUffelen auction
sale in Amsterdam. He joined with enthusiasm in the bidding; beside him sat
Joachim Sandrart, who went up to 3,000 guilders. But they both had to see
the picture carried off by the Spanish Ambassador for 3,500 guilders. Thanks
to his notes on the hastily sketched sheet in the Albertina, Rembrandt retained
from it the motive for his self-portraits. A copy by Rubens exists, with hands,
now in a private collection in Vienna (Plate 121).
According to current views of Raphael’s art and of the Dutch artist’s relation
to it, a work to which Rembrandt took such a fancy about 1640 that he wished
to possess it must really have been quite unlike Raphael. Yet Rembrandt
thoroughly understood the Italians, especially when they painted well. The
noble congruity of the colouring with the imposing contours awakened in him a
response. Thus, it seemed to him, this dignified man once looked out on the
116