MASTERPIECES
IN COLOUR

EDITED BY . .
T. LEMAN HARE

ANDREA MANTEGNA

1431-1506

“Masterpieces in Colour” Series

Others in Preparation.

Mantegna

BY MRS. ARTHUR BELL
ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHT
REPRODUCTIONS IN COLOUR

LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK

NEW YORK: FREDERICK A. STOKES CO.

[Pg vii]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[Pg 9]

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[Pg 10]
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[Pg 11]
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[Pg 12]
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.

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
[Pg 15]
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[Pg 16]
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[Pg 17]
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[Pg 18]
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[Pg 19]
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 pre[Pg 20]viously
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[Pg 21]
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[Pg 22]
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.

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
[Pg 25]
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[Pg 26]
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[Pg 27]
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[Pg 28]
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[Pg 29]
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[Pg 30]
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[Pg 31]
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[Pg 32]
large dowries to his daughters when they
married.

The first pictures painted at Mantua were
the beautiful triptych of the “Adoration of the
Kings,” “Circumcision,” and “Ascension,” now in
the Uffizi, Florence; the “Death of the Virgin,”
in the Prado Gallery; and the remarkable “Pietà,”
of the Brera Gallery; the last probably a study
only, as it was still in Mantegna’s studio when
the artist passed away, for which reason it has
erroneously been attributed to a later period.
Unpleasing though it is with its startling
realism, the “Dead Christ” is of special value
as a study in perspective, and, in the opinion
of Dr. Kristeller, it was painted with a view to
its being seen from below, for he says, “It is
only as a ceiling painting, with its perspective
point of sight coinciding with the central point
of the ceiling, that the figure would appear
correctly foreshortened. There can be no
doubt,” he adds, “that it was painted as a preliminary
study for the nude youth standing
inside the balustrade on the ceiling decoration
of the Camera degli Sposi and for other figures
[Pg 35]
in ceiling pictures.” However that may be,
the strange composition stands alone among its
author’s works, and will probably always remain
a subject of contention to critics, so variously
do its peculiarities affect different temperaments.

In addition to the oil-paintings quoted above,
Mantegna also produced between 1459 and 1460
a large number of frescoes for the various
residences of the Marquis of Mantua, but unfortunately
no trace of them remains. The
earliest extant works of the kind are those
of the Camera degli Sposi in the Castello di
Corte, which were completed in 1474, and in
spite of their melancholy condition of decay, the
result chiefly of their having been executed on
a dry instead of a damp surface, are ranked
amongst the most noteworthy examples of
fifteenth-century decorative art in existence.
Not only are they admirably executed and
thoroughly suitable for the position they occupy,
but they also inaugurate a new departure in
historical portraiture, the principal subjects
being groups of the various members of the[Pg 36]
Gonzaga family, the most interesting and
characteristic of which is, perhaps, that representing
the meeting between the Marquis
Lodovico and Cardinal Francesco, already
referred to as containing a portrait of the
artist.

In the other frescoes of the Camera degli
Sposi the Cardinal, who by this time had
become Papal Legate of Bologna and Bishop
of Mantua, is conspicuous by his absence, his
high position in the Church making his visits
to his home very rare, and leading to his being
received with much pomp and ceremony when
he did appear. On this occasion he and his
father, who was accompanied by his two eldest
grandsons, were each attended by a great
retinue, and Mantegna has managed with considerable
skill, whilst preserving a certain homeliness,
to convey an impression of grandeur,
the noble figures of the actors in the scene
standing out against a fine landscape background,
from which rises up the city of
Mantua.

The decorations of the Camera degli Sposi[Pg 37]
so delighted the Marquis that he presented
their author with an estate in the heart of the
city, on which Mantegna at once began to
build a princely mansion, part of which is now
converted into a college. Long before it was
finished, however, he was saddened by the death
of Lodovico, who passed away in 1478, soon after
he had commissioned what was to be his beloved
court painter’s greatest masterpiece—the
series of pictures representing the “Triumph of
Cæsar,” that are now at Hampton Court, having
been bought in 1624 from the then reigning
Marquis by Charles I. Lodovico was succeeded
by his son Federico, who treated
Mantegna with the same affectionate consideration
as his predecessor had done, taking a
deep interest in his welfare and sympathising
with him in his domestic anxieties. On October
25, 1478, he wrote to the artist, who had
been unable to complete some work for him
through illness, begging him to try and get
well as quickly as possible, but not to worry
about the delay, and later he did all in his
power for Mantegna’s delicate boy, inquiring[Pg 38]
constantly after him, and giving his father a
letter of introduction to the famous physician,
Girardo da Verona, that is of special interest,
affording, as it does, an all-too-rare glimpse of
the painter as a man as well as an artist,
trembling for the life of his suffering child.
The Marquis begs the doctor, to consult whom
Mantegna took his son to Venice in 1480,
“to show every possible consideration to our
noble and well-beloved servant”; and though
the journey was all in vain, the patient having
died soon after the return to Mantua, the
solicitude shown on his behalf by the Marquis
must have touched the heart of his sorrowing
parents.

In 1481 the court of Mantua was thrown
into mourning by the death of the Dowager-Marchesa
Barbara, who had from the first been
a very kind friend to Mantegna, and two years
later her son, Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga, to
whom the artist was devotedly attached, also
passed away. When, in 1484, Federico himself
died suddenly, and his eighteen-year-old son,
Gian Francesco—generally referred to by his
[Pg 41]
second name only—became Marquis in his
stead, Mantegna seems to have feared that
his position at Mantua would be adversely
affected by all the changes that were taking
place, and he hastened to offer his services to
Lorenzo de’ Medici, with whom he had some
slight acquaintance, and whose liberality as a
patron of art and literature was well known.
What reply was made by the Florentine duke
to his suggestion is not known; but it soon
became evident that the new ruler of Mantua
knew as well if not better than his father and
grandfather had done before him, how to value
his court painter, and one of the first acts of
his reign was to ask Mantegna to paint a
picture for him to present to the Duchess
Eleonora of Mantua, mother of his affianced
bride, Isabella d’Este, who was then only ten
years old, but was later to become one of
the artist’s most liberal patrons and faithful
admirers.

The picture in question is supposed to have
been the fine “Madonna and Child,” with
a background of cherubs’ heads, now in the[Pg 42]
Brera Gallery, Milan, considered, so far as its
colouring is concerned, one of Mantegna’s
most brilliant achievements. According to
some authorities, it had already been ordered
some months before by the Duchess, and all
Francesco had to do with it was to urge the
artist to finish it without further delay; but,
in any case, the young Marquis was constantly
in the studio whilst it was in progress, chatting
with the painter now about the work,
now about his own private affairs. He was,
it is said, deeply in love with his betrothed,
or rather with the idea he had formed of
her, for it is doubtful whether he had yet seen
her, the wooing having been done by proxy as
long previously as 1480, when the little maiden
of six had delighted the Mantuan envoy with
her grace and charm. No sooner was the
picture signed, before the eager suitor had it
packed, and started with it for Ferrara, where
it was received with the greatest enthusiasm,
not only by the Duchess herself but by the
whole court, which, under the enlightened rule
of Duke Ercole I. was a centre of culture,[Pg 43]
to which flocked artists, poets, musicians,
humanists, and other leaders of the æsthetic
and intellectual life of the day.

Of the actual meeting between the engaged
couple no record has been preserved;
but it is evident from letters written home by
the Marquis that his expectations were more
than fulfilled, Isabella already giving promise
of the exceptional qualities which were to
make her one of the most fascinating and
influential women of her time, the memory
of whose sweet and gracious presence still
lingers both in Ferarra and Mantua. It was
difficult for her lover to tear himself away
when the day came for him to return home,
where his presence was greatly needed; but
before he left, he exacted a promise from
Duchess Eleonora that she would bring her
daughter to Mantua in the autumn of the
same year.

It is easy to imagine how much Francesco
had to confide to his court painter when he
paid his next visit to the studio; how he dwelt
on the charms of his beloved Isabella, and[Pg 44]
lamented over the years that must elapse before
she could become his wife. He found Mantegna
eagerly engaged on the preliminary drawings for
the “Triumph of Cæsar,” and to the instructions
already given by Lodovico Gonzaga he added
a wish that all the distinguished guests who
were soon to meet at his court should be introduced
in the processions, as well as the chief
members of his own family. Mantegna, he may
have said, would have plenty of opportunities for
making studies of them; and now he must put
everything else aside for a time to design the
decorations in honour of the visit of the bride-elect
and her mother, which were to be a kind
of foretaste of those in celebration of the wedding.
In all the preparations for that great
event he relied upon the co-operation of Mantegna,
who must promise not to accept any
invitation or commission that could interfere
with his work on them, and, premature as this
must have appeared to the artist, he readily
gave the required assurance.

All passed over as happily as Francesco himself
could have wished during the brief stay[Pg 45]
at Mantua of Eleonora and Isabella, who won
all hearts by their sympathetic appreciation of
everything that was done to please them. After
they left, the work on the “Triumph of Cæsar”
proceeded apace, interrupted only now and then
for the execution of minor commissions, such as
the designing of jewellery, drinking-cups, &c.;
but in 1488 came a very unwelcome summons
for Mantegna to go to Rome, Pope Innocent
VIII., who had heard of the beauty of the frescoes
at Padua and Mantua, wishing to have
a chapel in the Vatican decorated by their
artist. Such an invitation had all the force of
a command, and the Marquis was reluctantly
compelled to let his beloved painter go; but
before he left, he conferred on him the honour
of knighthood, that he might take a better position
in the papal court, and once more reminded
him of the necessity that he should be back
at Mantua in January 1490 at the very latest.
Bearing with him a letter to the Pope, dated
June 10, 1488, in which Francesco spoke of
him in the very highest terms, Mantegna started
for the Holy City, where he was welcomed with[Pg 46]
the greatest eagerness, not only by his new
employer but by the ecclesiastical and secular
notabilities, who vied with each other in doing
him honour. Certain letters to the Marquis
Francesco, however, betray discontent with the
payment he received from the Pope, and also
with the facilities for his work afforded him in
the Vatican, a dissatisfaction that would, indeed,
have been intensified could he have foreseen
that the frescoes for which he sacrificed so
much were to be ruthlessly destroyed in 1780,
with the chapel containing them, to make room
for the Museo Pio Clementina.

It is only from allusions to them by Vasari
and descriptions by the later critics, Agostino
Taja and Giovanni Pietro Chattard, who lived
in the second half of the eighteenth century,
and saw the frescoes shortly before their destruction,
that any idea can be obtained of what
they were; but a supposed copy of a portrait
of Innocent VIII. included in them, is in the
collection of the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria.
That they were executed by Mantegna without
any assistance is proved by a letter from him[Pg 47]
to the Marquis Francesco, dated June 15, 1489,
in which he says, “The work is heavy for a man
alone, intent on obtaining honours, especially
in Rome, where opinion is expressed by so
many able men, and as in the races run by
Barbary horses the first gets the prize, so I
too must gain in the end, if it please God.”

It is unnecessary to dwell long on works of
art that have completely disappeared. Suffice
it to say that the frescoes were not finished in
December 1489, but that Mantegna was hoping
to get leave of absence from the Pope for February
1490, when he was suddenly struck down
by fever, just before he would have started for
Mantua had all been well. The long-talked-of
wedding took place, therefore, during his absence,
and he had, after all, absolutely nothing to
do with the festivities in honour of the marriage,
that were evidently of a magnificent description.
It must have been, indeed, a keen mortification
to him to have missed such a golden opportunity
of proving his devotion to his Mantuan patron,
and it is easy to realise with what mixed feelings
he heard of the enthusiastic reception of[Pg 48]
the bride in her husband’s native city. Accompanied
by Isabella’s parents, her uncle Cardinal
d’Este, and her three young brothers, and
escorted by a brilliant suite, the newly wedded
pair entered the city on February 12th, the
one drawback to their happiness, contemporary
chroniclers report, having been the absence of
the court painter, whose praises had been so
often sung by the bridegroom.

Fortunately, the artist soon recovered from
his illness, but it was not until September that
he completed his work in Rome, and received
permission from the Pope to return to Mantua.
Innocent VIII. expressed himself in his letter
of dismissal fully satisfied with the way in which
his wishes had been carried out; but whether
the artist was equally pleased with the reward
for his services is questionable. He was
evidently very glad to leave Rome, where, strange
to say, in spite of his love for antiquity and
the opportunities he must have enjoyed for his
favourite study, he seems to have felt out of his
element. His correspondence with the Marquis
betrays considerable home-sickness, and contains
[Pg 51]
absolutely no allusions to the art treasures
of the Vatican. He pleads with his patron
for an appointment for his son Lodovico, declares
he is longing to be at work again on
the “Triumph of Cæsar,” and retails various
items of court gossip, telling quaint stories, for
instance, about the ill-fated Prince Djem, brother
of the reigning Sultan of Turkey, who was then
a prisoner in the Vatican, but not a word does
he say to throw light on the political situation,
which was already causing anxiety to the
heads of the great Italian states. Back again
in Mantua, Mantegna quickly threw off the
depression revealed in his letters, resuming
his old place as if he had never been away,
his studio becoming once more the centre of
artistic activity in the ancient town.

The court painter was as eagerly welcomed
by the young Marchesa as by her husband,
and for the rest of his life his fortunes were
very closely bound up with those of the d’Este
family, which is equivalent to saying that he
was henceforth to be in close touch with the
history of his native country, that was even[Pg 52]
then on the eve of the Revolution that was
completely to change her position in the polity
of nations. The Marquis of Mantua’s bride was
the only sister of Beatrice d’Este, who was
married on December 29, 1490, to the brilliantly
gifted but fickle, cruel, and crafty Lodovico
Sforza, surnamed II Moro, who obtained the
dukedom of Milan through treachery, and was
mainly instrumental in bringing about the
invasion of Italy by the French, a crime
for which he was to pay dearly, first with
his liberty and in the end with his life, for
he died a prisoner in the Castle of Loches
in 1508.

No hint of troubles to come saddened the
first few months of Isabella d’Este’s life at
Mantua, her chief anxiety having apparently
been concerning her beloved sister, whose lot
was far less happy than her own. Lodovico
Sforza had not been nearly so ardent a lover
as Francesco Gonzaga, for he had a mistress,
the lovely and learned Cecilia Gallerani, to whom
he was devotedly attached, and who had been
for many years treated by him as if she were[Pg 53]
his legal wife. It is significant of the indulgent
manner in which such unions were regarded
that his relations with her were not considered
any bar to his marriage with an innocent young
girl, whose parents did all in their power to
hasten her engagement with him. It was very
evident, however, that Beatrice did not share
their eagerness, and it was to Isabella, who
had hastened to Ferrara as soon as the matter
was settled, that she turned for comfort in her
shrinking dread of what was before her. That
the Marchesa succeeded in reassuring her and
bracing her up for the ordeal is proved by the
dignified way in which the child-bride bore herself
in the long-drawn-out and brilliant festivities
that celebrated her union with a man
more than double her own age, and the ease
with which she took up the arduous duties of
the wife of the leading and most powerful
prince of Italy. It was with a heart relieved
of its most pressing fears that the elder sister
returned home, and the letters written to her
by Beatrice in the months succeeding her departure
reveal a growing attachment between[Pg 54]
the newly married couple, on which a seal
was set in January 1493 by the birth of their
first son.

The court of the Gonzagas now became the
rendezvous of the leading authors, artists, and
antiquarians of the day, who vied with each other
in their enthusiastic admiration for the beautiful
young Marchesa, though it is occasionally suggested
by contemporary writers that as time
went on some of them rather rebelled against
her increasing exactions, for she would fain have
had every one give up everything to obey her behests.
She is even said to have sent imperious
messages to such great celebrities as Perugino,
Giovanni Bellini, and Leonardo da Vinci, bidding
them come and help Mantegna to decorate
her apartments, describing the subjects
she wished them to interpret, and expressing
herself as greatly aggrieved when they failed
to appear. On the other hand, there is no doubt
that she proved herself a most generous and
considerate patron of her own court painter, and
the four years after his return from Rome were
probably among the happiest of Mantegna’s life.[Pg 55]
He worked during them almost exclusively at the
“Triumph of Cæsar,” receiving no help from any
other artist, completing the tenth composition
in 1494, and making several sketches for others
that were never finished. In these wonderful
creations the artist realised the very spirit of
antiquity, yet at the same time bequeathed to
posterity a marvellously true series of presentments
of the contemporary life of his time, full
of significant incidents and effective contrasts,
the various groups displaying a freedom of execution
and force of expression such as Mantegna
had never before achieved. For the first
time realism and idealism were welded into one,
and the past seemed actually to become the
present, waking into new life not merely as
an intellectual abstraction, but as a visible
pageant of humanity.

The year of the successful conclusion of the
“Triumph of Cæsar” was a disastrous one for
Italy, for in July 1494 the Duke of Orleans,
on the invitation of Lodovico Sforza, crossed
the Alps, to be followed almost immediately by
Charles VIII. The French King and the Duke[Pg 56]
of Orleans were welcomed with great enthusiasm
by Il Moro, whose wife wrote glowing accounts
to her sister at Mantua of the rejoicings over
their arrival; but those who looked below the
surface recognised what a fatal mistake had
been made, and sinister rumours soon began to
spread abroad as to the real motives of Lodovico
Sforza. The death of his nephew Giangaleazzo
at a most opportune moment for him
led to suspicions of his having caused him to
be poisoned, that were confirmed by the way
in which he managed to get his claim to the
succession recognised and the dead man’s young
son Francesco set aside in his own favour. For
all that, he was allowed to assume the supreme
authority at Milan without opposition, and contemporary
chroniclers even comment on the
kindness shown by him and his wife to the
widowed duchess, to whom apartments were
assigned in the palace that had so long been
her home. Meanwhile, everything had remained
quiet at Mantua, though all that was going on
elsewhere was being watched with eager interest
by the Gonzagas and Mantegna. Early in 1495[Pg 57]
Isabella went to Milan to be with her sister, who
was expecting her second child, and on February
4th a fine boy was born. In the brilliant
festivities held to celebrate the great event the
child’s beautiful aunt is said to have taken
a leading part, now receiving ambassadors
from foreign courts to save the young mother
fatigue, now advising her brother-in-law in
some difficult question of etiquette, capping
verses with Gaspare Visconti, criticising the
work of Giovanni Bellini, or playing with her
two-year-old nephew, Ercole, who simply worshipped
her.

Suddenly, in the midst of all this light-hearted
gaiety, came the news that Charles
VIII. had entered Naples and been crowned
King of Sicily, and though the bells of Milan
were ostentatiously rung as if in rejoicing,
a council was hastily summoned to consult
on the best measures to save Italy from the
French invaders. On April 12th a league against
France was signed between Venice, Urbino,
Mantua, Milan, King Ferdinand of Spain
and the Emperor Maximilian; the Marquis of[Pg 58]
Mantua was made Generalissimo of the united
Italian forces, and after taking an affectionate
farewell of Mantegna, who, he said, would soon
be called upon to paint a masterpiece in celebration
of a victory, he set forth in high spirits
at the head of his army. His words turned out
to be prophetic, for on July 6th, at Fornovo,
he defeated the French with great loss, fighting
himself side by side with his soldiers in
the front rank. Before he went into action
he vowed that if he escaped unhurt he would
build a church in honour of the Virgin at
Mantua, and as soon as the battle was over he
sent instructions to Mantegna to make plans of
the building, and to design an altar-piece for it.

The church was finished before the painting,
which was not begun until August 30th,
but it was completed in time to be placed
in position on the anniversary of the event it
commemorated, and is universally considered
the artist’s finest work of the kind, surpassing
even the beautiful S. Zeno triptych. It is
now one of the chief treasures of the Louvre,
having been taken to France in 1797, and is
[Pg 61]
known as the “Madonna della Vittoria,” although,
as a matter of fact, it represents the
Marquis of Mantua pleading with the Virgin for
the success of his arms, not returning thanks for
victory, the whole composition breathing forth
yearning aspiration rather than exultation. In
it the Holy Child occupies the centre of the
design, all the light being concentrated on
Him and on the face of His mother, who
embraces Him with one hand, and stretches
forth the other towards the kneeling suppliant,
opposite to whom are St. Elizabeth and the
Infant St. John the Baptist. The mantle of
the Virgin is held back by Saints George
and Michael, and against the ornate background
appear the heads of the patrons of
Mantua, Saints Andrew and Longinus, the
whole being admirably proportioned and well
balanced.

During the years that succeeded the victory
of Fornovo the Marquis of Mantua and his
wife had to contend not only with great political
anxieties but with one of the greatest
sorrows of their lives—the sudden death of[Pg 62]
the Duchess of Milan, who passed away on
January 2, 1497, after giving birth to a still-born
son. Her end is said to have been
hastened by the fact that her husband, who
had hitherto seemed devoted to her, had recently
conceived a passion for a lovely girl named
Lucrezia Crivelli, who had been one of her
ladies-in-waiting. However that may have
been, Lodovico’s grief at her loss, intensified
perhaps by self-reproach, was extreme, and the
letter he wrote to his brother-in-law asking
him to break the terrible news to Isabella is
one long cry of anguish. That the young wife
had been mercifully taken away from the evil
to come soon, however, became apparent, for
before she had been dead a year her husband’s
doom was already sealed. Heavy clouds, too,
were gathering at Mantua, for the Marquis fell
under the suspicion of having had underhand
dealings with the enemy, and in April 1497
he was suddenly dismissed from his post as
Generalissimo of the Italian forces. This was
a bitter blow to him, to his wife, and to all,
including Mantegna, who had his interests at[Pg 63]
heart, but fortunately the storm quickly blew
over, and he was soon restored to his command,
which he retained to the end of the
campaign.

The taking of Milan by the French in 1499
and the triumphant entry into the conquered
city of Louis XII.—who, the little dauphin
having died shortly before his father, had
become King of France on the death of
Charles VIII.—with all the terrible consequences
to the Sforza family, cast a gloom
over the court of Mantua for the rest of the
reign of the Marquis Francesco, and both he
and Isabella found their best distraction from
their many sorrows in watching their court
painter at work. The “Madonna della Vittoria”
was succeeded by the “Madonna with Saints
and Angels,” now in the collection of Prince
Trivulzio at Milan, painted for the monks of
S. Maria in Organo, Verona, and the “Madonna
and Child with St. John the Baptist,” now in
the National Gallery, with the smaller but no
less charming “Holy Family” of the Dresden
Gallery. To about the same period are[Pg 64]
supposed to belong the designs for the frescoes
in Mantegna’s mortuary chapel in S. Andrea,
Mantua, of which only two—the “Holy Family
with St. Elizabeth, Zacharias, and the Infant
St. John” and the “Baptism of Christ,” the
latter almost defaced—are from the hand of
the master himself, the rest having been completed
after his death by his pupils.

In 1500, when Andrea was already in his
seventieth year, he was commissioned by the
Marchesa to paint a series of allegorical
subjects in what she called her “studio,” in
the Castello of Mantua, on the decoration of
which several other artists, including Perugino
and Lorenzo da Costa, were also engaged.
Mantegna was, unfortunately, the only one of
the painters selected who approached the task
with any enthusiasm, or attempted to realise
the ambition of Isabella—that her sanctum
should be a kind of epitome of intellectual
and sensuous life, symbolising, as do the
Trifoni of Petrarch in literature, the most
ideal aspirations of humanity. The first of
the compositions completed by Mantegna was[Pg 65]
the “Parnassus,” in which the conquest of Mars
by Venus is celebrated, that is unique amongst
the master’s works, generally characterised as
they are by sobriety of expression, as an
interpretation of light-hearted gaiety. The
figures of the dancing-girls are full of vivacious
grace, and that of the Goddess of Love
of seductive charm, contrasting well with the
virile and heroic form of her suitor, the stern
God of War, whilst the minor actors in the
idyllic scene—the neglected husband, Vulcan,
working at his forge as if indifferent to what
is going on, Apollo, Mercury, and Cupid—are
all most happily rendered, the various groups
combining to give the impression of a living
drama, in which the artist, in the fulness of his
creative power, for once succeeded in giving
visible expression to his lifelong dream of the
old Olympus, which he had previously seen only
in his imagination.

It was not until some years after the execution
of the “Parnassus” that the second of the
“studio” pictures, the comparatively uninteresting
“Triumph of Virtue over the Vices,” was[Pg 66]
finished. Though its details were evidently carefully
studied, it shows a lamentable falling off in
simplicity and effectiveness of design, Mantegna
having been greatly hampered by the constant
interference of Isabella, who insisted on the introduction
of a bewildering number of allegorical
figures. The third and last composition, an
equally unpromising subject, the “Triumph of
Erotic Love,” was only begun by Andrea, and
completed by Lorenzo da Costa, who faithfully
endeavoured to fulfil his predecessor’s intentions.
All three paintings are now in the Louvre, where
the “Parnassus” may be usefully compared
with the earlier “Madonna della Vittoria” and
the “Crucifixion,” the three works being very
typical of the various periods of the master’s
development.

To 1506 belongs the fine and characteristic
monochrome decorative picture of the “Triumph
of Scipio,” now in the National Gallery, one
of the very latest of the master’s works, commemorating
two important episodes of the
second Punic War—the welcome given to the[Pg 67]
image of the goddess Cybele brought from
Rome to Ostia by Publius Scipio, and the
miracle wrought by the “Mother of the Gods”
on her arrival, which proved the innocence of
the Roman matron, Claudia Quinta, who had
been falsely accused of immorality. Concerning
this fine work, in which the artist tells the well-known
classic story with dramatic directness, a
very interesting correspondence has been preserved,
between Isabella d’Este and the famous
Venetian scholar, Pietro Bembo, who complained
to the Marchioness that Mantegna had long ago
pledged himself to paint certain pictures for his
friend, Francesco Cornaro, who had paid twenty-five
ducats on account. He begged the master’s
patroness to induce him to fulfil his engagements,
adding that “Messer Cornaro would not
mind about a couple of hundred ducats; he
would gladly leave the value of the pictures to
her, but he would not allow himself to be jested
with, and meant to stand upon his rights.” To
this the great lady appealed to replied that “she
would certainly speak for Cornaro to Mantegna[Pg 68]
when opportunity should occur, but that the aged
artist was at the moment scarcely recovered
from a serious illness, so that it was impossible
yet to talk to him about business.” That she
did intervene soon afterwards, or that Mantegna’s
own conscience reproached him, is, however,
proved by the fact that the completed
“Triumph of Scipio” was found in his studio
after his death.

The picture is referred to by the painter’s
son Lodovico in a letter to the Marchioness “as
that work of Scipio Cornelio which was undertaken
for Messer Francesco Cornaro, and which
the Cardinal Sigismondo Gonzaga desired to
retain for himself.” Vainly did Andrea’s second
son protest against this, begging the Marquis
Francesco to let him have it back, “for he
wished to keep it as a memorial of his father
and for purposes of study,” a plea delightfully
suggestive of happy relations having existed
between the writer and the great master.
Francesco Mantegna added that he would
gladly pay back the twenty-five ducats to
[Pg 71]
Cornaro, and great was his disappointment
when, after a long delay, he received as sole
answer to his request a promissory note from
the Cardinal for one hundred ducats, which in the
end turned out to be no more than waste paper,
for as long afterwards as November 1507 neither
he nor his brother had been able to get the
money. In the end, the descendants of Messer
Cornaro got possession of the picture, which
was bought from one of them by Lord George
Vivian, whose son left it to the National Gallery
in 1873.

With the “Triumph of Scipio” may justly be
ranked the “Samson and Delilah,” also now in
the National Gallery, that is evidently entirely
from the hand of the master himself, and is
a very realistic interpretation of the much-exploited
incident of the betrayal of the strong
man by the weak but cunning woman. Other
typical drawings are the “Judgment of Solomon,”
in the Louvre, and the three renderings
of Judith placing the head of Holofernes in a
sack that is held open by her handmaiden—one[Pg 72]
in the possession of Mr. John Taylor, one at
Dublin, and the third in the Uffizi. The last,
signed by the artist with his full name and
dated 1491, is a truly admirable rendering of its
subject, the shrinking horror felt by the beautiful
and heroic girl of the ghastly trophy she is
about to let fall, being vividly reflected in her
attitude and expression as well as in those of
her companion. Less satisfactory from a technical
point of view are the “Mutius Scævola”
of the Munich collection, commemorative of the
noble deed of the young Roman who had been
chosen by lot to slay the Etruscan invader, King
Porsenna, and having failed was condemned to
be burnt alive; the group of “Mars, Venus, and
Diana,” in the British Museum; the “Vestal
Virgin Tucia,” also known as “Autumn,” and the
“Greek Woman drinking from a Cup,” sometimes
called “Summer,” in the National Gallery. Even
they, however, as well as the more important
drawings, are eminently characteristic of their
author, who from first to last was more pictorial
in his sketches than in his finished compositions.[Pg 73]

Not only as a painter but as an engraver
did Mantegna win great renown during his
lifetime and abiding fame after his death. He
and his gifted contemporary, Antonio Pollaiuolo,
were the first Italians to employ copperplate
engravings for original work and the reproduction
of their drawings, and a very great impulse
was given by them to the useful craft.

The closing months of Mantegna’s life are
involved in an obscurity as great as that
shrouding his early years. It is not even
known of what he died, some saying that
he was suddenly carried off by the plague
which was raging in Mantua at the time,
others that the end had long been expected,
and that old age was his only ailment. The
sad event took place at seven o’clock in the
evening, on September 13, 1506, and the news
was formally notified to the Marquis two days
later by Francesco Mantegna; but, probably
because of the great anxieties by which the
Gonzagas were then oppressed, very little
notice was taken of what under other circum[Pg 74]stances
would have overwhelmed them with
grief.

Andrea Mantegna was quietly buried in the
chapel in S. Andrea, Mantua, that he had
long since secured as the last resting-place of
his family, and which, except for the completion
of the unfinished frescoes, remains to the
present day very much what it was at the
time of his death. It was not until fifty years
later that the bronze bust, already referred to,
was set up outside the chapel by his grandson
Andrea, son of Lodovico Mantegna, who also
erected within the building a fine memorial to
his grandfather, father, and uncle, bearing the
inscription, “Ossa Andreæ Mantineæ famosissimi
pictoris cum duobus filiis in hoc sepulcro
per Andream Mantineæ nepotem ex filio constructo
reposita MDLX.”

In addition to the well-authenticated paintings,
frescoes, and engravings described above,
a very great number of other works, including
easel pictures, drawings, and miniatures,
have been attributed to Mantegna, who is also[Pg 75]
said to have occasionally practised sculpture.
Moreover, literary evidence proves that nearly
one hundred compositions designed and executed
by him have been lost, amongst which are specially
to be regretted the portraits of his various
patrons of the Gonzaga family and, above all,
that of the Duchess Elizabetta of Urbino, who
was one of the most beautiful and influential
women of her time, beloved by young and old,
and for whom her brilliant sister-in-law, Isabella
d’Este, had a most fervent admiration. Even
without these missing treasures, however, the
court painter of Mantua left behind him masterpieces
enough to secure to him a lasting fame
as one of the pioneers of the Renaissance of
painting in Italy.

The fact that Mantegna passed away on
the very threshold of the Golden Age, during
which Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo,
Raphael, Titian, and Correggio, each the
founder of a great school, produced their
world-famous works, has led to his achievements
having been comparatively neglected; but[Pg 76]
of late years his claims have gradually become
more fully recognised, and he now takes high
rank as a consistent and persevering exponent
of a high ideal. His intense individuality was
from the first hostile to imitation, but his influence
was long felt in the art world, and many
artists who were associated with him in Padua
and Mantua later carried on his traditions
to some extent in Verona, Ferrara, Modena,
Bologna, and Milan. Jacopo da Montagnana
was, perhaps, the master who most closely resembled
him, some of his work having been
actually attributed to Mantegna; but Francesco
Benaglio, Liberate da Verona, Francesco
Moroni, Girolamo dai Libri, Marco Zoppo,
Cosimo Tura, and Lorenzo da Costa owed
much to their study of his masterpieces—the
last named, who succeeded him as court painter
at Mantua, reproducing in his later compositions
something of the characteristic style of
his predecessor in that office.

It has even been claimed that Correggio,
who, according to a long-accepted but now dis[Pg 77]credited
tradition, was supposed to have been
the actual pupil of Mantegna, derived much of
his inspiration from the older painter. “Both
artists,” says Dr. Kristeller in an able examination
of the points of affinity between them,
“penetrate to the very core of the subject, to the
purely human emotion latent within it: equally
sensitive and elevated in spirit, both strive enthusiastically
after a superhuman existence, full
of an enhanced joy in life…. Both seek to
break through the confines of the earthly to
secure, in immeasurable space, free scope for the
power and the magnitude of their figures. The
voluptuous swinging lines, the ideally beautiful
forms of Mantegna’s figures in his later works,
their sweet and thoughtful expression of tranquil
bliss and spiritual emotion is in Correggio’s
creations only heightened by the passionate
sensuousness of his own outlook on the world,
by the utmost vivacity of movement, and by
his ardent surrender of self to the sensuous as
well as to the godlike. But,” adds the German
critic, and here he lays his finger on the essen[Pg 78]tial
difference between the art and character
of the men compared, “sensuousness in Mantegna
was neither ignored nor emphasised,” for
there was no pandering to the love of sensation
in the work of the sincere and earnest master
of Mantua, who never represented passion for
its own sake, but combined with a true appreciation
of the beauty of physical form and the
poetry of motion a stern severity of expression
peculiarly his own. Both masters pursued the
same ideal of beauty, both penetrated to the
very heart of their subjects, but the paintings
of Mantegna are more elevated in spirit than
those of the more widely admired successor,
whose forerunner he is said to have been.

There is, it must be admitted, a certain want
of dramatic unity marring the effect even of the
greatest compositions of the Mantuan painter;
but it should not be forgotten that his aim
was not the same as that of Raphael, Titian,
Holbein, or Memlinc. Even his severest critics
are compelled to admit that he fully realised
his own ambition, a truly worthy one, to bring[Pg 79]
the past into touch with the present, and to
pave the way for those who should come after
him. His best works display not only consummate
draughtsmanship but a power of interpreting
intellectual and spiritual emotion, rare
amongst his contemporaries, though it was
to be bestowed in fullest measure upon many
of the masters of the sixteenth century; and he
will ever remain, in the opinion of those most
competent to judge, one of the greatest of
their predecessors.

[Pg 80]

The plates are printed by Bemrose & Sons, Ltd., Derby and London
The text at the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh