SCHOOLS OF LOMBARDY: THREE GREAT PAINTERS

“Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.”

There are three great masters whom I want you to study in the Lombard school—and in the Lombard school are included the school of Milan and the Parmese school. Of this last school Correggio is the delightful outcome. His bright, happy, debonair genius is the genius of Italy.

In the Lombard school one master deserves a very high place—Ambrogio Borgognone (1455–1523). He was a religious painter, who had something of the genius of Fra Angelico. There are several pictures by him in the National Gallery, but the finest of all is “The Virgin and Child with the two St. Catherines” (298). The Virgin is seated on a beautifully carved throne. She is a sweet and timid girl, who holds her divine Son in her lap. He is somewhat stiff, but there is charm in the expression of His face. His two little hands are extended, and in them He holds out two wedding rings. St. Catherine of Alexandria, the great princess who loved to meditate on holy things, and who endured martyrdom rather than marry a heathen prince, is receiving the symbol of her consecration to Christ; on her head she wears a crown; at her feet is the wheel that was intended for her martyrdom; in her hand she bears the sword with which she was slain. The Virgin is gently drawing the other Catherine—Catherine of Siena—towards her Son. This pure and holy nun is the saint ministering to all those in affliction. She entered the monastic life at thirteen years of age, and, quite uneducated, she soon had more power over men and women than had learned theologians and statesmen. She stands there in the Dominican habit carrying a lily, the emblem of purity, wearing the ring that will make her the bride of Christ. It is a fine picture, beautiful in tone and full of sincerity.

Family portraits (779–780)—groups of nine men and thirteen women—you should also look at; they will make you better understand the noble sincerity and simplicity of Borgognone’s genius.

To the Lombard school belongs the gentle Luini, who, Mr. Ruskin says, “stands alone in uniting consummate art power with untainted simplicity and religious imagination.”

We have but one picture by Luini—“Christ Arguing with the Pharisees” (18). In many respects the picture is so like Leonardo da Vinci’s work that it was long ascribed to this master. Every face therein is a study of expression. The Christ, who is the central figure, has a tender and charming countenance; on either side of His face falls His golden brown hair. The Pharisees about Him are puzzled and angry at His words, but He continues to explain His thesis with earnestness. I wish we knew more of Luini (1475–1529), who was born by the side of the lovely Lake Maggiore, and whose whole youth was spent in its neighbourhood. His colouring is so sweet and tender, the expression of his countenances is so deep that, without having much to go upon, we yet claim him as one of that army of old masters, one of those great men who held high the torch of art, and whom we follow humbly.

Correggio (1494–1534), of the Parmese school, is believed to have received his first training in the school of Ferrara. His name was Allegri, and the name suited his gay and happy nature, his bright and joyous art. The pictures we have from him are masterpieces. In the “Ecce Homo” (15) the Christ is not a thin emaciated figure, but He is the most gentle and beautiful of men. If His face shows the anguish of His suffering there is no distortion of its features. In the little picture called “The Holy Family” or “The Virgin of the Basket” (23) we see Correggio’s charm, his gaiety, his attractive tenderness, the loveliness of his light and shade. The picture is an enchanting representation of motherhood. The Virgin is putting a little coat upon her baby Son, and she is smiling at His attempt to pass His chubby arm through the sleeve. It is a perfect picture of domestic peace and happiness. It was Correggio’s wife who sat for it and his own baby, and the scene was enacted in his studio; he sketched it and called it “The Mother and Child.”

The other picture, “Mercury instructing Cupid in the presence of Venus” (10), is one of the most exquisite of Correggio’s pagan pictures, if we may so call them. Ruskin says “The two pictures which I would last part from in the National Gallery would be Titian’s “Bacchus” and Correggio’s “Venus.” We see Mercury wearing his winged cap and sandals, teaching the alphabet, which it is said he invented, to the baby Cupid. The little fellow’s wings are rainbow coloured; his golden hair clusters in close curls round his head. He has a most absorbed mien as he learns his letters. His mother stands behind him, radiantly beautiful, apparently very much amused at her small son’s scholarly efforts. She, too, is wearing wings;—perhaps it is to show that beauty flies,—and she holds Cupid’s bow and arrow. Her lovely form is nude, and every curve of her limbs is wrought in light and shade. She stands a glowing figure, one of the purest and loveliest ever painted. This great picture first belonged to Charles I. When he was beheaded it passed through many hands, and ultimately came into the possession of Murat, King of Naples. When the fortune of the Bonapartes was set in 1822, Murat’s wife wished to sell it; and Lord Londonderry bought it over Russia’s head, giving the largest sum and carrying it over to England.”

Other Correggios you will see in private galleries, in national museums, and wherever you see them you will always find them imbued with extraordinary life. His power of light and shade was unrivalled: his figures move about in a luminous ether. Correggio died when he was forty years of age, just three or four years older than was the immortal Raphael. He was the last of Italy’s great masters.