MASTERPIECES IN COLOUR EDITED BY . . T. LEMAN HARE

ANDREA MANTEGNA

1431-1506

“Masterpieces in Colour” Series

Others in Preparation.

(In the Louvre)

This beautiful composition, considered one of Mantegna’s greatest masterpieces, was painted in 1495-96 in commemoration of the victory won at Fornovo on July 6, 1494, by the Marquis of Mantua as generalissimo of the united Italian forces. It is now in the Louvre, Paris, having been carried off by the French in 1797.

Mantegna

BY MRS. ARTHUR BELL ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHT REPRODUCTIONS IN COLOUR

LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK NEW YORK: FREDERICK A. STOKES CO.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Born at a time of exceptional intellectual and æsthetic activity, when Italian humanism was nearing its fullest development, and the art of painting, after a protracted struggle with mechanical difficulties, had at last obtained an almost complete mastery over its media, with a real grasp of the long-neglected science of perspective, Andrea Mantegna may justly be said to have been a true representative of the early Renaissance in Italy, an earnest combatant in the arduous struggle for liberty of thought and expression in which so many of his gifted fellow-countrymen were engaged. A true kindred spirit of his greater contemporary, Donatello, with whom he was in closer rapport than with any painter, the chief characteristic of his work being the plastic rather than the pictorial treatment of form, he was, like him, imbued from the first with a reverent love of truth and a conscientious desire faithfully to interpret it. Mantegna has, indeed, been sometimes charged with a too close imitation of the famous sculptor, but this is manifestly unfair, for, although there can be no doubt that he owed much to Donatello, who was the first to lead him into the right path, by showing him how Nature should be studied, the secret of the strong resemblance between the styles of the two masters is that both went to the same source for inspiration: the best existing examples of antique sculpture, which appeared to them the noblest extant expression of the ideal in the real.

According to some authorities, Vicenza was the birthplace of Mantegna, whilst others claim that honour for Padua; but all agree in stating that he was born in 1431. Of his parents scarcely anything is known, but it is generally supposed that they died at Padua when Andrea was still quite a child, and it is certain that the orphan boy was adopted at once by the artist Francesco Squarcione, who received him into his own home and began his art education. The true relations between him and his foster-father are, however, very obscure, critics differing greatly with regard to them; but it is very evident that the tastes and ambitions of the two artists were never in real accord, though gratitude for kindness received when he was left alone in the world, long restrained Mantegna from an open breach with the protector of his childhood. The probability is that Squarcione, whose work, judging from the few specimens that have been preserved, was of a very mediocre character, was merely the nominal head of a bottega, or studio, in which painters of far greater eminence than himself, including Jacopo Bellini, were visiting masters. However that may have been, it is certain that several hundred students were at different times under his roof, and, whether they did or did not learn much from him, they had the advantage of seeing the drawings after the antique that he had brought back with him from the trips he delighted in taking to Greece and the Italian towns, that owned collections of classic sculpture.

(In the Uffizi Gallery, Florence)

The central composition of a triptych, now in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, belonging to Mantegna’s second period of art development. Supposed to have been painted for the chapel of the Castello at Mantua about 1464.

That Andrea early showed remarkable talent is proved by his having been made, when he was but ten years old, a member of the Guild of Paduan Artists, to which belonged all the leading painters, sculptors, and craftsmen of the city, and association with them must have done much to aid his art-development. He was, indeed, from the very first surrounded by inspiring influences, for Padua, with its noble University, founded in 1222, had long been a leader in antiquarian research, and was already beginning to rival even Florence and Venice as a centre of literary and artistic activity. The quaint mediæval Palace, with its magnificent fifteenth-century roof, the fine Basilica of S. Antonio and the Cappella di S. Giorgio both adorned with the frescoes of Altichiero and Alvanzo, and, above all, the Cappella di Sta. Maria dell’ Arena, enriched with the wonderful creations of Giotto, must have been to the enthusiastic young painter a source of continual delight as well as a spur to emulation; although as yet Donatello, destined to give to him the final impulse in the right direction, had not come to Padua to put in hand the glorious bas-reliefs of the high altar of S. Antonio, and the even more remarkable bronze equestrian statue of Gattamelata, that was to inaugurate a new departure in modern realistic sculpture.

Of the first meeting between the veteran sculptor, who, on his arrival in Padua in 1443, was in his fifty-eighth year, and the youthful painter there is no record; but there is no doubt that the latter was privileged to watch the growth of the S. Antonio sculptures, and to listen to the discussions concerning them and their author that took place amongst the masters and students in the bottega of Squarcione. From his first appearance on the scene Donatello dominated the art world of the University city, his personality as well as his work everywhere arousing the greatest enthusiasm. So overwhelming indeed were the attentions heaped upon him that he resisted all invitations to remain after he had completed the work he had actually promised to do, and, even before his monumental piece of sculpture was set up, he fled from the atmosphere of adulation in which he lived back to his native Florence, where, to quote his own words, he “got censured continually.” He was still, however, at Padua when, in 1446, Mantegna completed his first independent commission, a “Madonna in Glory” for S. Sofia, now lost, but which is said to have been a wonderful production for a boy still in his teens, clearly betraying the influence both of Donatello and Jacopo Bellini, yet with a marked individuality of its own.

The “Madonna in Glory” is supposed to have been succeeded by other compositions of a similar kind; but the earliest signed work from Andrea’s hand is a fresco, dated 1452, above the central door of S. Antonio, representing Saints Antony and Bernardino holding up a wreath bearing the monogram of Christ. In it, as well as in the polyptych of “St. Luke,” now in the Brera Gallery, Milan,—that betrays a slight affinity with the Vivarini,—the “Presentation in the Temple,” of the Berlin Museum, and the “Adoration of the Magi,” in the collection of Lady Ashburton—all painted between 1452 and 1455—are already noticeable the naturalistic treatment of form, plasticity of modelling, and sombre colouring, that were from first to last characteristic of Mantegna, with a suggestion of the dignified restraint and solemn rhythm of movement, which were later further to distinguish his style. It is, moreover, noticeable that in the two last named, as well as in other early representations of the Virgin and the Holy Child, such as that in the Poldi-Pezzoli Museum, Milan, it is the purely human relationship between the loving mother and her helpless little one which is most forcibly brought out, there being absolutely no suggestion of the supernatural. In the “Presentation in the Temple” Mary clings to the Babe as if unwilling to let Him leave her arms for a moment, and in the “Adoration” her face expresses a tender yearning that is infinitely touching; whereas in later Holy Families from the same hand the Infant Jesus becomes ever more and more aloof and dignified, until at last He appears like a young God conscious of His power to save and bless, whilst His mother withdraws into the background.

More important, perhaps, from a technical point of view, than these independent oil-paintings are the series of frescoes in the Eremitani Chapel, in which can be clearly traced the gradual development of Mantegna’s style. In them he for the first time proved himself able successfully to carry out a vast and elaborate scheme of decoration, each composition with its appropriate setting, though complete in itself, contributing to the general effect of the whole. Exactly when the great undertaking was begun is not known, but it is supposed that the commission for it was given to Squarcione about 1452, and its execution entrusted by him to Mantegna, who in 1448 had signed an agreement binding him to the service of his foster-father for a long term of years. In a will dated January 5, 1443, the Chapel of the Eremitani was bequeathed by its then owner, Antonio degli Ovetari, to Jacopo Leone, on condition that after the testator’s death seven hundred golden ducats should be expended on its decoration with scenes from the lives of Saints James and Christopher. The subjects, and possibly also the positions they were to occupy, were thus determined beforehand; and it is evident from internal evidence that not all the frescoes are from Mantegna’s own hand, but his spirit dominates them all, and those for which he is entirely responsible, especially the “St. James led to Execution,” the “Martyrdom” and the “Burial of St. Christopher,” mark a great advance, alike in design and in technical execution, on anything hitherto produced by their author. In the first, Mantegna approached more nearly to Donatello in the expression of movement than he had previously done, and displayed very great skill in concentrating the attention upon the figure of the martyr, who pauses to bless and heal a lame man kneeling at his feet, the soldiers halting to look on, and the spectators turning back to see what delays the procession. The “Martyrdom” and “Burial of St. Christopher” are also strikingly dramatic, giving very vivid presentments of the final scenes in the long-protracted agony of the twice-martyred victim, who was found to be still living after he was supposed to have been shot to death; but, unfortunately, both compositions are so much defaced that it is difficult to form a true idea of what they originally were.

The years during which Mantegna was at work on the Eremitani frescoes, supposed to have been completed in 1455, coincided with the most interesting period of the artist’s life from a personal point of view. In 1453 he became engaged to the only daughter of Jacopo Bellini, Nicolasia, whom he had known since she was a child, and to whom he had long been attached. He was married to her in 1455, and the young couple evidently started life together under very happy auspices; but little is really known either of their courtship or their later experiences. Neither, unfortunately, is it possible to call up with any semblance of reality the personality of the bride, for although she certainly often posed for her father, husband, and brothers, her portrait cannot be identified in any of their compositions. That she was beautiful and charming is generally taken for granted, that she shared the æsthetic faculty with which the other members of her family were so richly endowed is more than probable, and that she was a good wife to Mantegna is incidentally proved by the fact that his money difficulties did not begin till after her death; but that is all that can be gathered concerning her. It is far easier to realise what the bridegroom was like, for Andrea has introduced himself among the spectators in the “Martyrdom of St. Christopher” and in the later “Meeting between Lodovico Gonzaga and his son, Cardinal Francesco,” of the Camera degli Sposi at Mantua, in both of which the painter appears as a handsome, distinguished-looking man whose somewhat stern features, in which, however, there is no suggestion of the irritable temper with which some of his contemporaries charged him, greatly resemble those of the fine bronze bust, of uncertain authorship, that was set up in 1560 outside his mortuary chapel in S. Andrea, Mantua, by one of his grandsons.

(In the Pitti Palace, Florence)

This fine portrait, now in the Pitti Palace, Florence, represents one of the members of the Gonzaga family who were introduced in the famous frescoes by Mantegna that adorned the Camera degli Sposi and other apartments in the Castello of Mantua.

Almost the only comment made by the biographers of Mantegna on his marriage is that after it the influence of Jacopo Bellini over his style became more marked, and nearly all they have to tell concerning him and his wife is that they had three boys, one of whom died in infancy, and two girls. Occasionally, it is true, a reference is made to work done in their father’s studio by one or the other of the surviving sons, whose names were Francesco and Lodovico. The marriages of the daughters, Laura and Taddea, are alluded to en passant, and the fact is mentioned that in his old age the great painter had a natural son, to whom he gave the names of Giovanni Andrea, and whom he confided on his death-bed to the care of the boy’s half-brother Lodovico; but scarcely any details can be gathered concerning the home life of the master before Nicolasia passed away, nor has any one been able to ascertain who was the heroine of the romance of the master’s closing years. Even Dr. Paul Kristeller in his monumental work, in which is gathered together from an infinite variety of sources everything that can throw light on the character, aims, and work of Mantegna, is able to do no more than suggest that he and his family were on affectionate terms with each other, that he had the best interests of his children at heart, and that his wife shared the tender poetic sensibility of her gifted brother, Giovanni Bellini.

To make up for the meagreness of intimate personal information with which writers on Mantegna have to contend, they one and all dwell at great length on every incident of his art career, describing minutely, for instance, the strained relations between him and Squarcione, which culminated in 1456 in his bringing an action against the latter. It was decided in favour of Andrea, who pleaded that he had been under age when he signed the agreement already alluded to above, and that the conditions of the arrangement made had been broken by his foster-father. It is further related that Squarcione was from the first bitterly hostile to the intimacy between Mantegna and the Bellini, resenting the influence Jacopo exercised over a pupil he looked upon as his own special protégé. When he heard of the engagement between Andrea and Nicolasia, he vowed he would never consent to the match, and when he found that his sanction of the marriage was dispensed with, his indignation knew no bounds. He vented his annoyance by making unreasonable demands upon Mantegna’s time, and by harsh criticism of his work on the Eremitani frescoes, in which he all too clearly betrayed his jealousy of the younger artist’s superior talent. There was really nothing left for Mantegna to do but to sever all connection with so unreasonable an employer, but that he did so with regret, remembering past kindnesses, is proved by his having put off the rupture as long as he did. It was well for him when he finally left the Squarcione bottega and became free to work out, unchecked, his own art salvation, and henceforth he may truly be said to have gone on from strength to strength, until at last, in such masterpieces as the “Triumph of Cæsar” and the “Madonna della Vittoria,” he reached the very zenith of his powers.

The second period of Mantegna’s career begins with the painting of the fine triptych for S. Zeno, Verona, commissioned by the enlightened papal protonotary, Abbot Gregorio Correr, one of the leading ecclesiastics of his time, the first of the many distinguished patrons who now began to seek to secure the services of the young painter of Padua. The altar-piece of S. Zeno, the chief composition of which belongs to the class known as “sacro conversazione,” in which saints of different periods are grouped about the Virgin and Child, marks a very considerable advance in the delineation of character. The personalities of men so diverse as Saints Peter, John the Evangelist, Augustine, and Zeno are realised with great success, and the concentration of the light on the figure of the Infant Jesus foreshadows the great change that was ere long to take place in the artist’s renderings of the Holy Family. It is much to be regretted that the complete work can no longer be seen as it was when first placed in position, for it was carried off by the French in 1797; and although after the Treaty of Vienna the upper portion was restored to S. Zeno, where it now hangs in the choir, the three subjects of the predella, that are also of great significance in the study of the development of Mantegna’s style, remained in France—the “Crucifixion,” a noble but terribly realistic conception, occupying a place of honour in the Louvre, whilst the “Agony in the Garden” and the “Ascension,” that originally flanked it on either side, are at Tours.

Whilst engaged in his arduous undertaking for Abbot Correr, Mantegna painted three of his few portraits—that, now at Berlin, of Cardinal Luigi Mezzarota, the warlike prelate who led the papal troops against the Turks in 1457, defeating them with great loss; that, in the Naples Museum, of Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga, who received the red hat before he was seventeen; and the famous double likeness of John of Czezomicze, better known as Janus Pannonius, that is unfortunately lost, but won for its author great renown and inspired the beautiful elegy addressed to him by the poet on its completion.

Between Cardinal Francesco and Andrea a very strong friendship was soon formed, which may possibly have had something to do with the pressing invitations Mantegna now began to receive from the father of the young prelate Lodovico, the reigning Marquis of Mantua, who worthily maintained the great traditions of his ancestors, under whose auspices the ancient fortress that was to become so inseparably associated with the memory of the Paduan master was enlarged and strengthened, and the Grand Cathedral with the noble Renaissance Church of S. Andrea were built. The first of Lodovico’s invitations was probably a verbal one, but it was quickly succeeded by urgent written appeals, some of which have been preserved, in which the writer offers to make Mantegna his court painter with a high salary and to accord him certain valuable privileges, the letters reflecting not only the high esteem in which painters of eminence were then held and the eagerness with which their work was competed for, but also the great sacrifices that were demanded from them, and were such as no modern art patron would dream of exacting.

Again and again Mantegna put off his final reply to the Marquis, for he loved Padua, where he found plenty of congenial employment, and was surrounded with appreciative friends; but at last he yielded, attracted probably partly by the material advantages of the position offered to him, and partly by the exceptional facilities he would have in Mantua for the antiquarian research in which he delighted. It was in the latter half of 1459 that he arrived, accompanied by Nicolasia and their two little children, in the famous city, where he was eagerly welcomed by the Marquis and his wife, the Marchesa Barbara, and their two sons, Federico and Cardinal Francesco. From that time to his death, except for two years spent in Rome, Mantegna worked almost exclusively for the Gonzaga family, becoming ever more and more devotedly attached to them and their interests. From the first, the position of the court painter appears to have been a very enviable one, for, although it is true that the payment of his salary was sometimes delayed, he was evidently on terms of the closest intimacy with his patron, who soon after his arrival granted him a coat of arms embodying his own device, and, as proved by many a still extant letter, was ever ready to help and advise him, whether in matters so trivial as the cut of a coat or so serious as legal disputes concerning the boundaries of property owned by the artist. That the poverty of which Mantegna sometimes complained must have been purely nominal is indeed evident from these lawsuits, as well as from the fact that he was able to make a very valuable collection of antiquities and to give large dowries to his daughters when they married.

(In the National Gallery)

This beautiful composition, now in the National Gallery, London, is supposed to be a replica of the “Mount of Olives” that originally formed part of the predella of the great altar-piece of San Zeno, Verona, and to have been painted in 1439 for Giacomo Antonio Marcello, then Podestà of Padua.