CHAPTER II.
EARLY LIFE AND WORKS, A.D. 1450-1500.
Francesco di Marco Raibolini, commonly called Il Francia, was born at Bologna in the year 1450. His father was a carpenter, but although belonging to the artisan class his family was highly respected and owned lands in the neighbourhood. After the practice of many Florentine painters, Francia began life in the goldsmith’s shop, but unlike Botticelli and Pollaiuolo, did not turn his attention to art until he had reached middle age and had acquired considerable reputation in his own trade.
Several writers have asserted that he took his surname from the goldsmith under whom he served his apprenticeship, but it seems more probable that Francia was merely the popular abbreviation of Francesco, and the supposition is confirmed by documents recently found in the archives of Bologna.
His talents soon attracted attention and before long he became skilled in cutting dies, designing medals, working in _niello_ and every department of the goldsmith’s art. At the same time the charms of his person and character won general favour and greatly contributed to the success of his career. Contemporary writers describe him as strikingly handsome in appearance, and gifted with a sweetness of disposition and rare eloquence which could not fail to captivate his hearers. The wit and liveliness of his conversation had the power to drive away the saddest moods and brighten the darkest hours. In this manner he became a general favourite, and he numbered members of the noblest families of Bologna among his intimate friends.
At the time Francia grew up the power of the Bentivogli family was supreme in Bologna. This proud house claimed descent from King Enzio, the unfortunate son of the Emperor Frederico II., whose long captivity, vain attempts at escape, and loves with the fair Lucia di Viadogolo have thrown a romantic charm over the grim walls of the Palazzo del Podestà. Nothing less than the attainment of sovereign power could content the Bentivogli in the fifteenth century, and after a long struggle with the Popes, who claimed the supremacy of Bologna, they finally succeeded in accomplishing their object. The reigning prince was now Giovanni Bentivoglio II., who had assumed the reins of government in 1463, and was undisputed master of the city. Although his tyranny became hateful to the people, and ultimately proved the cause of his ruin, he was a liberal and munificent patron of Francia, and rivalled the princes of the house of Este by the encouragement which he gave to the fine arts. He soon discovered the rising genius of the young goldsmith, and appointed him Master of the Mint, an office which, in spite of many vicissitudes in public affairs, Francia retained to the end of his life. Other distinctions fell to his share. In 1483, and again in the year 1489, he was elected steward of the goldsmiths’ guild, a further proof of the esteem and honour with which his countrymen regarded him. By this time he was already married, since his sons Giacomo and Giulio were born, the former before, and the latter in, 1487; but we hear no further particulars and know nothing of his wife excepting that her name was Caterina.
Besides coining money and designing medals for Giovanni Bentivoglio, Francia showed his fine taste and artistic powers in many works both in gold and silver enamels, and especially in _niello_, “often introducing as many as twenty figures of excellent proportion and graceful design into a space scarcely two fingers high.” Most of these precious works of art perished in the destruction of the Bentivogli’s palace at the time of their expulsion, and the famous silver _pax_, which Francia executed at immense cost for the wedding of Giovanni Sforza and Lucrezia Borgia, has disappeared, but two smaller ones are still preserved in the Gallery of Bologna, and are interesting specimens of their kind. One bearing a representation of the Resurrection, surrounded by a wreath of delicate foliage, was executed on the occasion of the marriage of Bartolommeo Felicini and Dorotea Ringhieri, as we learn by the arms of these families which are engraved upon the work. The other is engraved with the Sforza and Bentivogli arms and the letters M. Z., _Messer Zoane_, and was probably a wedding gift from Giovanni Bentivoglio to his bride Ginevra Sforza. The Crucifixion is worked in niello on this pax, and both in the sorrowing angels hovering round the cross and in the saints below we recognise the type of head which Francia’s Madonnas have rendered familiar, while the landscape in the background shows the pictorial bent of the goldsmith’s mind.
Andrea Mantegna’s visit to Bologna in 1472 is said to have first inspired Francia with the wish to become a painter, but Vasari tells us in the same breath that our master’s first painting was not executed until 1490, when he was forty years old.
The actual honour of having first given Francia instruction in oil painting has been assigned to different artists, principally to Marco Zoppo and Lorenzo Costa, both of whom, we have seen, were living at Bologna about 1480. Little affinity exists between the Squarcionesque master’s style and that of Francia, but it is very possible that he may have been acquainted with the goldsmith and have given him his first lessons. Francia’s connection with Lorenzo Costa was of a much closer kind, and Ferrarese models had a large share in his future development. But his first essays in painting are so purely original in character and so free from foreign influences that we need not seek for any cause to explain the reason of their existence, or ask what master had a share in their production. He probably acquired the rudiments of tempera and oil painting from either Zoppo or another of the humbler men who frequented his workshop, and immediately tried his hand on small panels before venturing on the larger pictures in which his adoption of Costa’s method is apparent. These early works are very rare, but one excellent instance is to be seen in the “St. Stephen” of the Borghese Gallery, Rome. This interesting little piece was evidently one of his first efforts executed at a time when he was unskilled in the rules of composition and technical knowledge. The hand of the worker in metal is plainly seen in the sharp outline and polished surface of the panel, in the cold, hard brightness of the deacon’s red dalmatic which St. Stephen wears, and in the elaborate ornament of its embroideries. There is no attempt at rendering physical agony in the form of the kneeling martyr quietly raising his clasped hands as the stones fall heavily to the ground beside him. Even St. Stephen’s countenance is marked by a certain absence of expression, and is without the rapt devotion of Perugino’s faces, or the yearning gentleness of Francia’s own Madonnas. Yet there is a calm devoutness in the martyr’s bowed head, which seems to reflect the earnestness of the prayer which the parted lips have just breathed, and which in its very simplicity is full of touching beauty. Already we feel the presence of that strong religious sentiment which had first animated the creations of earlier masters, and of which Francia was to be almost the last exponent in the art of Italy.
Another work belonging to this early period is the portrait of Bartolommeo Bianchini, formerly in the Northwick collection, under the name of Raphael. This personage was a Bolognese senator of considerable culture, whose poetry earned some reputation in his days, and who wrote flattering verses in praise of Francia’s genius. We have a further proof of the friendship that existed between them in the small “Holy Family” at Berlin, inscribed with the words, _Bartholomei sum(ptu) Bianchini maxima matrom hic vivit manibus Francia picta tuis_. “Here—painted by thy hands, O Francia, at the cost of Bartolommeo Bianchini—lives the greatest of mothers.”
The Madonna holds the child erect on a parapet, while St. Joseph stands behind, much in the same style of composition as countless Holy Families, by Giovanni Bellini, a painter with whom Francia had more than one feature in common. Here again we notice the same sharpness of outline, high polish, and want of shadow that recall the goldsmith’s art, but the general method of laying on colour and the red glow of the flesh-tints which marks all Ferrarese work, point unmistakably to the influence of Lorenzo Costa’s example. During the next twenty years these two men worked side by side in Bologna, and profited by a mutual exchange of ideas which has few counterparts in art history. While Costa gave Francia the benefit of his wider experience and greater knowledge, he received more than he could impart from the nobler aims and more refined feeling of the Bologna artist. Before long the pupil was to surpass the master, but we never hear of the intimacy between the two being marred by any jealousy or ill-feeling, and the unbroken harmony in which they lived reflects credit on both.
A great advance on the early works to which we have alluded is visible in the large altar-piece of the “Madonna and Saints” which Francia painted in 1490. The commission was given him by a wealthy Bolognese citizen, Bartolommeo Felicini, who destined the picture for a chapel in the church of the Misericordia, a confraternity of nobles for the assistance of hospitals and other works of mercy. In this work, which Vasari calls his first, Francia represented the Virgin seated on a marble throne with six saints in the foreground, and a child-angel in a light blue robe playing the violin at her feet. The architectural background and general style of colouring are plainly the results of Costa’s teaching, but side by side with these Ferrarese features we find another influence which is altogether new. This is the Umbrian tendency, which appears here in so marked a manner as to make us ask what was the link which brought Perugino into connection with the great master of Bologna. Unfortunately no historical evidence exists to satisfy our curiosity, and there is no authority for the probable supposition that Francia visited Florence, and thus became acquainted with the Umbrian painter. But there is every reason to believe that works by Perugino had by this time found their way to Bologna, and among them probably the beautiful altar-piece which he painted for the church of San Giovanni in Monte, and which now hangs in the Pinacoteca, almost side by side with Francia’s Madonna of the Misericordia. It is worthy of mention that the same Umbrian character appears in a small Madonna[5] at Berlin, the sole remaining work of Antonio Crevalcore, a Bolognese artist chiefly known as a fruit and flower painter, between 1480 and 1500, and whose name is preserved in an epitaph by Francia’s friend, Girolamo Casio. Evidently Perugino’s influence had in some form or other reached Bologna, and had touched a responsive chord in Francia’s breast. For nowhere is this Peruginesque vein more strongly present than in the fine head of the St. Sebastian, in the Misericordia altar-piece, who is lifting his eyes to heaven with an intensity of expression to which Perugino himself has rarely attained. Henceforth this feature is constantly recurring in all Francia’s panels, animating his less ideal types, his fresher and more vigorous conceptions with a tender devotional feeling, and appealing to us in the peculiar half-timid, half-reproachful gaze of those Madonnas which we know so well.
[Illustration: THE VIRGIN ENTHRONED, WITH SAINTS. BY FRANCIA.
_In the Pinacoteca, Bologna._]
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The revelation of Francia’s powers as a painter was the cause of much enthusiasm among his fellow-countrymen, who were never slow to applaud the efforts of native artists, and Giovanni Bentivoglio immediately commissioned him to paint an altar-piece for his family chapel in San Giacomo Maggiore. All the religious communities of Bologna now pressed Francia to decorate their altars, and Vasari says that by the end of a few years there was scarcely a church in the city that could not boast the possession of one of his paintings. The “Annunciation” of the Brera, the “Madonna and Angels,” at Munich, the Pietà, still at Bologna, in the Pinacoteca, followed each other in close succession. For his goldsmith friend, Jacopo Gambaro, who is recorded to have stood godfather with him to the child of a mutual friend, he painted the small “Holy Family,” at Dudley House, and for the church of San Giobbe, in Bologna, the “Crucifixion” of the Louvre. In this singular composition the patriarch Job is represented wearing a crown and lying at the foot of the cross, pointing upwards to a scroll on which we read the words: _Maiora sustinuit ipse_. This fine and original conception is marred by a hardness of drawing and colouring, which is a sufficient proof that it was executed at an early period; its surface has suffered considerable injuries which increase this unpleasant effect.
A great step in advance is marked by the Bentivoglio altar-piece completed in 1499, and still occupying its original place in a chapel of San Giacomo Maggiore. Here the metallic harshness of the tints has given place to more harmonious tones and softer shadows, and the rich, glowing colours show that the artist had by this time acquired complete mastery of the means at his disposal. The saints are more vigorous and manly in type, and the heads are distinguished by more actual beauty than in any other of Francia’s pictures. St. Sebastian is again a prominent figure, and was used as a model a century later by the Carracci, who declared it to be one of the finest studies of human form in Renaissance painting. The two angels crowned with roses and standing on the steps of the Virgin’s throne are said to be portraits of children of the Bentivogli family. Others hover about the Virgin, and one, the loveliest of all, leans his head thoughtfully against a pillar and stretches out his little arms in wistful yearning to the child-Christ. In the same year Francia painted another Enthroned Madonna,[6] very similar to this one in style and grouping, by desire of a lady of the Manzuoli family, for the church of the Misericordia. Here the attendant saints are St. George and the Baptist, who point upwards to the child, whilst St. Stephen gazes mournfully at the stones of his martyrdom, which, rest on a book that he holds before him, and another of Francia’s sweet child-angels clasps a tall white lily between its folded hands, “with so much grace that it seems to belong to Paradise.” [_Vasari._]
For the same church of the Misericordia, Giovanni Bentivoglio’s son, Archdeacon of Bologna and papal protonotary, ordered the “Nativity,” now removed to the Gallery,[7] where most of Francia’s masterpieces are collected. In this picture the “Nativity” is treated not as an historical event but as a Christian mystery, that is to say, the Virgin and attendant saints are represented in the act of adoring the new-born child, and celebrating his advent on earth. This class of composition, always a favourite with religious painters, and much used both by Perugino and Lorenzo di Credi, was especially adapted to Francia’s genius. He never possessed the faculty of describing a scene in a vivid and dramatic manner, or of rendering in quick succession all the varied emotions of the human breast, but no one has excelled him in these groups of rapt saints, without a thought beyond the object of their silent adoration. And so we find him constantly moulding his subjects into this form. The Annunciation, Pietà, Assumption, and Coronation of the Virgin by turns took this shape in his hands. He conceived “these supreme events as mysteries at which the successive ages were spectators, and in relation to which the great souls of all periods became as it were contemporaries.” [_George Eliot._]
In this instance Francia has introduced several portraits among the worshippers. His masterly profile of Bartolommeo felicini in the first Misericordia altar-piece had already proved his skill as a portrait painter, and he now represented Antonio Galeazzo Bentivoglio, who had lately returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, in the mantle of a knight of the Red Cross kneeling under a ruined arch to adore the infant Christ. The youthful shepherd who stands opposite, wearing a laurel wreath on his flowing locks, is a portrait of Francia’s intimate friend, the poet jeweller, Girolamo di Casio, on whom the laurel crown was bestowed by Clement VIII. This accomplished man had the greatest admiration for Francia, whose epitaph he lived to compose, and whom he addressed during his lifetime in a sonnet beginning:—
“Felice Italia che in se chiude, Si sublime ingegno e si bella effigie Che fanno al cielo e a natura guerra.”
“Happy Italy, which contains a genius so lofty and forms so fair that they challenge heaven and nature.”
Lastly, in the regular features of the St. Francis in the background, we have Francia’s own likeness (which he has here introduced in the form of his patron saint), whose expressive face and refined air correspond exactly with contemporary descriptions. Two angels kneel in lowly adoration on either side of the child, who lifts his head and raises his tiny hand in benediction, while a bullfinch perched on a twig at his feet looks reverently towards him and almost seems to join in the act of worship. As a rule Francia’s landscapes are simple in character, generally consisting of a rocky foreground and broad valley opening beyond, such as we often see in the Apennines near Bologna; sometimes in his later works they are more distinctly Umbrian, but the background of this “Nativity” is remarkable for an unusual degree of beauty and variety. The rocky steep with its solitary pine-tree is still on our right, but in the centre of the picture, above the heads of the kneeling saints, a lovely expanse of park-like scenery unfolds itself before us. There we see a broad sunny river winding its way between grassy glades and forest avenues, cattle are feeding, and human life is stirring on its banks, a church tower and cottage roofs peep out from among the trees, and far away in the distance a line of blue hills rises in soft undulating lines. The whole of this pastoral scene is charmingly conceived and painted, and forms a poetic background to one of Francia’s most graceful compositions. It was for this picture that Costa painted his predella of the “Adoration of the Magi,” now in the Brera, one of the many tokens of the friendship which continued to exist between the two artists.
[Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILD WITH A BIRD. BY FRANCIA.
_In the Dresden Gallery._]
Besides these works for the Misericordia, Francia executed several altar-pieces for other churches in Bologna—about 1500. The “Madonna and Saints,” now at St. Petersburg, was originally painted for San Lorenzo, and a similar subject resembling the Bentivoglio altar-piece is still to be seen in San Martino of Bologna. With these larger subjects we may mention the charming group of boy-angels playing on musical instruments round an old picture of the Madonna in San Vitale, although their Raphaelesque grace would seem to indicate a later date of production. The Franciscan church of the Annunziata, outside the gate of San Mammolo, also possessed two pictures, a “Madonna” and “Annunciation,” which have been removed to the Gallery since that sanctuary has been used as a barrack by the Italian Government. Both have been much damaged, but the “Annunciation,” in spite of its bad state of preservation and unpleasant rawness of colour, is singularly interesting. All three persons of the Trinity assist at the celebration of the great mystery: the Father looks down from heaven, the dove is seen descending to rest on the brows of her who was blessed among women, and a vision of the Child appears above in glory. The Angel of the Annunciation hovers in mid-air, and on earth the lowly Virgin kneels with clasped hands and bent head, her whole soul going forth in unutterable love and yearning as she listens to his message. On either side, a little below this central figure, stands a noble group of saints reverently pondering over the mystery before our eyes; and foremost among them we recognise Bernardino, the favourite saint of Bologna, whose memory was still fresh in the hearts of the people, holding an open book, on the pages of which, the sacred monogram and his motto, _In Nomine Gesu_, are inscribed. The birds sing in the branches beside him, and a lizard crawls along the ground bearing a scroll, on which are the arms of the Franciscans, a skull and cross-bones, the date MCCCCC., and _Francia Aurifex pinxit_, a form of signature which the goldsmith painter retained to the end of his life.
[Illustration]