When the Venetians went forth in the New Crusade to attack the Turks, Pesaro or "Baffo" was the commander of the galleys sent by the Borgia pope Alexander VI. The expedition being successful, the bishop wished to show his grat.i.tude for the divine favor. Accordingly, in the course of time, he ordered this picture as a thank-offering commemorative of his victory. He comes with his kinsman Benedetto and other members of his family to consecrate the standards taken from the enemy.

The bishop himself has the most prominent place among the worshippers at the foot of the throne steps, while Benedetto, with a group behind him, kneels opposite. The victorious commander is accompanied by St. George, who carries the banner inscribed with the papal arms and the Pesaro escutcheon. He leads forward two Turkish captives to whom he turns to speak. St. George was a warrior saint, and being besides the patron of Venice his appearance in this capacity is very appropriate here.

There are other saints to lend their august presence to the ceremony. As the picture was to be given to a church dedicated to the Franciscan friars or "Frari," two of the most celebrated members of this order are represented. They are St. Francis, the founder, and St. Anthony, of Padua, the great preacher, and they stand in the habits of their order beside the throne. Midway on the steps St. Peter is seated reading a book from which he turns to look down upon Jacopo. The key, which is the symbol of his authority in the church, stands on the step below. The saints, we see, form a connecting link between the exalted height of the Madonna and Child and the worshippers. St. Peter introduces the bishop, and St. Francis seems to ask favor for the group with Benedetto.

The scene is full of pomp and grandeur. The superb architecture of the temple, the rich draperies of the sacred group, the splendid dresses of the worshippers, the red and gold banner, all contribute to the impression of magnificence which the picture conveys. The colossal scale of the composition gives us an exhilarating sense of s.p.a.ciousness. The color harmony is described as glorious.

[Ill.u.s.tration: D. Anderson, photo. John Andrew & Son. Sc.

THE PESARO MADONNA

_Church of the Frari, Venice_]

Though the bishop of Paphos comes to render thanks, his att.i.tude is far from humble. There are no bowed heads in the kneeling company. These proud Pesari all hold themselves erect in conscious self-importance. It is as if they were taking part in some pageant. Only the face of the youth in the corner relaxes from dignified impa.s.sivity and looks wistfully out at us.

The Madonna leans graciously from her high throne and looks into the face of the bishop. She, too, has the proud aspect and demeanor which these haughty Venetians would demand of one whom they were to honor. Her splendid vitality is what impresses us most forcibly. The child is a merry little fellow who does not concern himself at all with the ceremony. He has caught up his mother's veil in the left hand, drawing it over his head as if in a game of hide and seek with St. Francis. The little foot is kicked out playfully as he looks down into the good saint's face.

Let us consider a moment the skill with which t.i.tian has united the various parts of his picture. The canvas was of an awkward shape, being of so great height. To fill the s.p.a.ce proportionately, the Virgin's throne is placed at a height which divides the picture. The little cloud-borne cherubs break the otherwise undue length of the temple pillars. The composition of the group is outlined in a rather odd-shaped triangle. All its main lines flow diagonally toward a focus in the face of the Virgin, who is of course the dominant figure in the company.

Notice the continuous line extending from the top to the bottom of the group. The folds of the Madonna's drapery are ingeniously carried on in the rich velvet throne hanging; and St. Peter's yellow mantle falls well below, where the bishop's robe takes up the lines and carries them to the pavement. There is a veritable cascade of draperies flowing diagonally through the centre of the picture. The staff of the banner describes a line cutting this main diagonal at exactly the same angle, and thus avoiding any one-sided effect in the picture. In the right of the composition the outline of the Christchild's figure, the arm of St.

Francis, and the stiff robe of Benedetto make a series of lines which enclose the triangle on that side.

The critic Ruskin has enunciated a set of laws of composition nearly all of which find ill.u.s.tration in this painting.[29] _Princ.i.p.ality_ is well exemplified in the prominence of the Virgin's position and the flow of the lines toward her. _Repet.i.tion_, _Contrast_, and _Continuity_, are seen in the drawing of the compositional lines, as has been indicated.

Finally, the picture is perfect in _Unity_, which is the result of masterly composition, its many diverse parts being bound closely together to form a harmonious whole.

XV

ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

St. John the Baptist was the cousin of Jesus, and was the elder of the two by about six months. Before his birth the angel Gabriel appeared to his father, Zacharias, and predicted for the coming child a great mission as a prophet. His special work was to prepare the way for the advent of the Messiah.

Zacharias was a priest and a good man, and both he and his wife Elizabeth were deeply impressed with the angel's message. Not long after, their cousin Mary came from Nazareth to bring them news of the wonderful babe Jesus promised her by the same angel. He was to be the Messiah whom John was to proclaim. The two women talked earnestly together of the future of their children, and no doubt planned to do all in their power to further the angel's prediction. The time came when all these strange prophecies were fulfilled. As John grew to manhood he showed himself quite different from other men. He took up his abode in the wilderness, where he lived almost as a hermit. His raiment was of camel's hair fastened about him with a leathern girdle; his food was locusts and wild honey. At length "the word of G.o.d came unto him," and he began to go about the country preaching. His speech was as simple and rugged as his manner of life. He boldly denounced the Pharisees and Sadducees as "a generation of vipers," and warned sinners "to flee from the wrath to come." The burden of all his sermons was, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

The fame of his preaching reached Jerusalem, and the Jews sent priests and Levites to ask him, "Who art thou?" His reply was in the mystic language of the old Hebrew prophet Isaiah, "I am the Voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord."

It was a part of John's work to baptize his converts in the river Jordan. He explained, however, that this baptism by water was only a symbol of the spiritual baptism which they were to receive at the hands of the coming: Messiah. "One mightier than I cometh," he said, "the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire."[30]

At last Jesus himself sought to be baptized by John. The Baptist protested his unworthiness, but Jesus insisted, and the ceremony was performed. And "it came to pa.s.s that ... the heaven was opened, and the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape like a dove upon him, and a voice came from heaven, which said, Thou art my beloved son; in thee I am well pleased."[31] This was the promised sign by which John knew Jesus as the Messiah, and he straightway proclaimed him to his disciples.

[Ill.u.s.tration: D. Anderson, photo. John Andrew & Son. Sc.

ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

_Venice Academy_]

His life work was now consummated, but he was not permitted to see the fruits of his labors. For his open denunciation of King Herod he was cast into prison, and was soon after beheaded.

In our picture St. John stands in a mountain glen preaching. As his glance is directed out of the picture it is as if his audience were in front, and we among their number. His pointing finger seems to single out some one to whom he directs attention, and we know well who it is.

This must be that day when seeing Jesus approach the prophet exclaimed, "Behold the Lamb of G.o.d which taketh away the sin of the world. This is he of whom I said, After me cometh a man which is preferred before me; for he was before me."[32] The lamb which lies on the ground beside him is the outward symbol of his words. The slender reed cross he carries is an emblem of his mission as the prophet of the crucified one.

From head to feet the Baptist impresses us with his muscular power.

There is no hint of fastings and vigils in this strong athletic figure.

Here, as elsewhere. t.i.tian will have nothing of that piety which is a.s.sociated with a delicate and puny physique. He is the art apostle of that "muscular Christianity" of which Charles Kingsley used to preach.

The Baptist's skin is bronzed and weather-beaten from his active out-of-door life. Yet the face shows the stern and sombre character of the prophet. There are traces of suffering in the expression, as of one who mourns profoundly the evil in the world. Something of the fanatic gleams in the eyes, and the effect is heightened by the wild ma.s.ses of unkempt hair which frame the countenance.

Nature too seems to be in a somewhat wild and sombre mood in this spot.

A dark bank rises abruptly at the side, and St. John stands in its shadow, just under a tuft of coa.r.s.e gra.s.s and bushes jutting from its upper edge. The sky is overcast with clouds. A narrow stream falls over a rocky bed, and in the distance slender trees lift their feathery branches in the air. In t.i.tian's time landscape painting had not developed into an independent art, but was an important part of figure compositions. Our painter always took great pains with his landscapes, making them harmonize, as does this, with the character of the figures.

The picture reminds us of the St. Christopher which we have examined, being, like it, a study direct from the life of some athletic model. Yet here we see to better advantage t.i.tian's work in modelling the nude figure. We can understand that one reason why he could make a draped figure so lifelike was because he studied the anatomy of the human body in undraped models. The figure here stands out almost as if it were done in sculpture.

XVI

PORTRAIT OF t.i.tIAN

Probably no other painter in the world's history was ever granted so long a life in which to develop his art as was t.i.tian. He was a mere boy when he began to paint, and he was still busy with his brush when stricken with plague at the age of ninety-nine.

The years between were full of activity, and every decade was marked by some specially notable work as by a golden milestone. The a.s.sumption of the Virgin was painted at the age of forty, the Pesaro Madonna at fifty, the Presentation of the Virgin in his early sixties, the portrait of Philip II. at about seventy, and St. John the Baptist at eighty. How interesting it would be if we could have a portrait of the man himself painted at each decade!

t.i.tian, however, seems to have been quite lacking in personal vanity.

Though a handsome and distinguished-looking man, a fine subject for a portrait, he seldom painted his own likeness. We value the more the fine portrait of our frontispiece painted at the age of eighty-five. The years have dealt so gently with him that we may still call him a handsome man. Yet the face has the shrunken look of old age, there are deep hollows about the eyes, and the features are sharpened under the withered skin. There is an expression which seems almost like awe in the eyes. The painter gazes absently into s.p.a.ce as if piercing beyond the veil which separates this world from the next. The mood does not seem to be one of reminiscence, but rather of grave antic.i.p.ation.

As we study the face we are interested to read in it what we know of the man's character and history. t.i.tian was, as we have seen, a man who enjoyed very much the good things of life, and pa.s.sed most of his days in luxurious surroundings. He was thoroughly a man of the world, at ease in the society of princes and n.o.blemen, and a princely host in his own house. Our portrait shows that his courtly bearing did not fail him in his old age: we can fancy the ceremonious courtesy of his manner. The figure is extended well below the waist, perhaps that we may see how erect the old man is.

t.i.tian, too, had not a little taste for literature and the society of the learned. His fine high brow and keen eyes are sufficient evidence that he was a man of intellect. That he was a fond father we have no doubt, and we like to trace the lines of kindliness in the fine old face.

Age cannot quench the old man's ardor for his art. The brush is still his familiar companion, and will go with him to the end. He holds it here in his right hand, in the att.i.tude of a painter pausing to get the effect of his work. It may be from this that he would have us think that his glance is directed toward his canvas. In that case, the serious expression would indicate that the subject is a solemn one, perhaps the Ecce h.o.m.o, or the Pieta, which he painted in his later years.

We see that his hand had not lost its cunning in summoning before us the real presence of a sitter, and that he could paint his own likeness as readily as that of another. The portrait shows us the best elements in a man of a many-sided nature. This is t.i.tian the master, whom the world honors as one of the greatest of his kind.