I9

VISION AND VISIONS

Catholic Europe,first ha!f rfthe seventeenth century

The histmy of art is son1etimes described as the story of a succession of

various styles. We hear how the Romanesque or Norman style of the
twelfth century with its round arches was succeeded by the Gothic style
with the pointed arch; how the Gothic style was supplanted by the
Renaissance, which had its beginnings in Italy in the early fifteenth century
and slowly gained ground in all the countries of Europe. The style which
followed the Renaissance is usually called Baroque. But, while it is easy to
identify the earlier styles by definite marks of recognition, this is not so
si1nple in the case of lhroquc. The f:1ct is that flon1 the Renaissance
onwards, almost up to our own time, architects have used the sarne basic
forms- cohnnns, pilasters, cornices, en tablatures and mouldings, all of
which were originally borrowed from classical ruins. In a sense, therefore,
it is true to say that the Renaissance style ofbuilding has continued fron1
Bnmelleschi's days to our own, and rnany books on architecture speak of
this whole period as Renaissance. On the other hand, it is natural that
within such a long period tastes and 1shions in building should have varied
considerably, and it is convenient to have different labels by which to
distinguish these changing styles. It is a strange 1ct that n1any of these
labels which to,. us are simply natnes of styles were originally words of abuse
or derision. The word 'Gothic' was first used by the Italian art critics of the
Renaissance to denote the style which they considered barbarous, and
which they thought had been brought into Italy by the Goths who
destroyed the Ronun Empire and sacked its cities. The word 'Mannerism'
still retains for many people its original connotation of affectation and
shallow irnitation, of which critics of the seventeenth centmy had accused
the artists of the late sixteenth century. The word 'Baroque' was a term
en1ployed by critics of a later period who fought against the tendencies of
the seventeenth century, and wanted to hold then1 up to ridicule. L3aroque
really n1.eans absurd or grotesque, and it was used by men who insisted that
the forms of classical buildings should never have been used or cornhined
except in the ways adopted by the Greeks and Romans. To disregard the
strict rules of ancient architecture seemed to these critics a deplorable lapse
of taste- whence they labelled the style Baroque. It is not altogether easy

]Ill;

VISION AND VISIONS

for us to appreciate these distinctions. We have become too accustomed

to seeing buildings in our cities which defy the rules of classical
architecture or misunderstand them altogether. So we have become
insensitive in these matters and the old quarrels seen1 very remote fi-om
the architectural questions which interest us. To us a church f:1yade like
that in figure 250 nuy not seem very cxcitlng, because we have seen so
n1any good and bad imitations of this type of building that we hardly turn
our heads to look at thern; but when it was first built in Ron1e, in 1575,
it was a n1ost revolutionary building. It was not just one rnore church in
Rome, where there are rnany churches. It vvas the church of the newly
founded Order of the Jesuits, on which high hopes were set for cornbating
the Reformation all over Europe. Its very shape was to be on a new and
unusual plan; the Renaissance idea of round and symmetrical church
building had been rejected as unsuited to divine service, and a new, simple
and ingenious plan had been worked out which was to be accepted al1
over Europe. The church was to be in the fonn of a cross, topped by a
high and stately cupola. In the one large, oblong space, known as the nave,
the congregation could assemble without hindrance, and look towards the
rnain altar. This stood at the end of the oblong, and behind it was the apse,
which was similar in fonn to that of the early basilicas. To suit the
requirernents of private devotion and adoration of individual saints, a row
of sn1all chapels was distributed on either side of the nave each of which
had an altar of its own, and there were two larger chapels at the ends of the
arms of the cross. It is a sirnple and ingenious way of planning a church and
has since been widely used. It combines the main features of n1edieval
churches- their oblong shape, etnphasizing the nuin altar- with the
achieven1cnts of Renaissance planning, in which so nmch stress is laid on
large and roomy interiors into vyhich the light would stream through a
m~cstic dorne.
Looking closely at the fayadc of II Gestl, which was built by the
celebrated architect Giaconw della Porta (rs4r?-T602), we soon realize why
it n1ust have impressed contemporaries as being no less new and ingenious
than the interior of the church. We sec at once that it is composed of the
clements of classical architecture- we find all the set pieces together:
columns (or rather, half-colun1ns and pilasters) carrying an 'architrave'
crowned by a high 'attic' which, in turn, carries the upper storey. Even the
distribution of these set pieces crnploys son1e features of classical
architecture: the large n1iddle entrance, framed by colun1ns and flanked by
two smaller entrances, recalls the scheme oftriun1phal arches, pa'-11,e 119,
figure 74, which (to repeat) becarne as finn1y in1planted in the architects'
mind as the n1~or chord in the mind of musicians. There is nothing in this
sin1ple and n1~cstic fayade to suggest deliberate defiance of the classical

3~9

CA TH OLIC "-UltoPf. , FIRSl HALf OF TilE S FVENTHNT II CFNTUWY

,,.
Giacomo della Porta

C/llln/1 ,,f/1 C<si,

n,,,c, (. 1575- 7
1\Jil-;trly B.trOC}tu.: church

rules fo r the sake of sophisti cated caprice. Uut the way in which the
classical clements arc fu sed into a pattern shows that Ro man and Creek and
even R enaissance rules have bee n left behind. The most striking feature in
this 1 ~ade is the do ublin g of each co lumn o r pilaster, as if to give the
whole structure greater rich ness, variety and solemnity. The second tra it
we notice is the care w hich the artist has taken to avoid repetitio n and
monotony and to aJTange th e parts so as to form a climax in the centre,
w here the main en trance is emp hasized by a double fram e. If we turn back
to earlier buildings composed of similar el eme nt~, we immedi ately see th e
gre;tt change ih character. Brundlcschi's C<tppella Pazzi, pn~e zz6,Ji,~ure 147,
looks infini tely light and graceful by comparison, in its wonderful
simpli city, :md Bramante's Tempietto , Jlfi,~e zgo ,_h<!ure 187, almost austere
in its clear and straightforward arrangement. Even the rich complexities
ofSansovino's Libr<try, pn,~e ]26,Jigure 207, appear simple by cornparison,
because there the sam e pattern is repeated again <tnd again. If you have
seen <1 part of it, you h<tve seen it all. ln D ella Porta's :1e,:ade of the first
Jesuit church everything depends on the effect given by the w hole . It is
all fused together into o ne la rge <t nd complex pattern. Perhaps the most
characteristic trait in this respect is the care the architect has take n to
connect the upper and lower storeys. lie uses a form of volute which has
no place at all in classical architecture. We need o nly imagine <1 form of this
kind som ewhere on a Greek te mple or a Roman theatre to rc:tlizc how
utterl y out of place it would seem . In f.1ct, it is these curves and scroll\ th at
have been responsible fo r much of the censure showered on 13aroquc

}')0

VISION AND VISIONS

builders by the upholders of pure classical tradition. But if we cover the

offending ornatnents with a piece of paper and try to visualize the building
without then1, we must admit that they arc not rnerely ornatncntal.
Without them_ the building would 'fall apart'. They help to give it that
essential coherence and unity which was the aim_ of the artist. ln the course
of titne, Baroque architects had to use ever nwre bold and unusual devices
to achieve the essential unity of a large pattern. Seen in isolation these
devices often look puzzling enough, but in all good buildings they arc
essential to the architect's purpose.
The developn1cnt of painting out of the deadlock of Mannerism, into a
style :En richer in possibilities than that of the earlier great masters, was in
son1e respects similar to that of Baroque architecture. In the great paintings
ofTintorctto and ofEl Greco we have seen the growth ofsmne ideas
which gained increasing importJnce in the art of the seventeenth century:
the emphasis on light and colour, the disregard of simple balance, and
the preference for more cmnplicated compositions. Nevertheless,
seventeenth-century painting is not just a continuation of the Mannerist
style. At least people at the time did not feel it to be so. They felt that art
had got into a dangerous rut, and rnust be got out of it. People liked
talking about art in those days. ln Ron1c, in particular, there were cultured
gentlen1en who enjoyed discussions on the various 'moven1ents' among
the artists of their time, who liked to compare them_ with older masters,
and to take sides in their quarrels and intrigues. Such discussions were in
themselves something new in the world of art. They had begun in the
sixteenth century with such questions as whether painting was better than
sculpture, or whether design was tnorc important than colour or vice
versa (the Florentines backing design, the Venetians colour). Now their
topic was different: they talked }bout two artists who had come to Rmne
frmn northern Italy and whose methods seen1cd to them utterly opposed.
One was Annibale Carracci (T560-r6o9) from Bologna, the other
Michelangelo da Caravaggio (1573-rGro) fiom a little place near Milan.
Both these artists seemed tired of Mannerism. But the ways in which they
overcm1e its sophistications were very different. Annibale Carracci was a
n1en1ber of a f:1mily of painters who had studied the art ofVcnice and of
Correggio. On his arrival in Rome, he fell under the spell of Raphael's
works, which he greatly admired. He ain1ed at recapturing smnething of
their sin1plicity and beauty instead of deliberately contradicting them, as
the Mannerists had done. Later critics have attributed to hin1 the intention
of imitating the best in all the great painters of the past. It is unlikely that
he ever fonnulated a programme of this kind (which is called 'eclectic').
That was done later, in the academies or art schools which took his work
as a model. Carracci llln1sclf was too tnuch of a real artlst to adopt such a

391

151

Annibale Carracci
'11tt lliiJ!ill 11/l!llr//ittg
C:ltrist, 1599- I<loo
J\lt.lr plillling; oil
C.lnVlS, 156 X 149 ( Ill.
,,, ~'. X sS% in: Mmeo tli
( ,~,,odiniOIItt: , N!l.pil-!1
( I ll

r.A I"IIOLI C

~ U RO I' E ,

r-IHST II AIr or- I H E S EVENTEEN 1"11 r.EN TU RY

foolish idea. But the battle- cry ofhis party among the cliques of Rome was
the cultivation of classical beauty. We can see his intention in the alta rpicture of the Holy Virgin mo urning over the dead body ofChrist,.figure
251. We need only think back to GrUnewald's tormented body ofChrist,
pa,~e 35 1,figure 224, to realize how careful Annibale Carracci was not to
remind us of the horrors of death and the agonies of pain . The picture itself
is as simple and harmonious in arrangement as that of an early Renaissance
painter. N evertheless, we would not easily mistake it for a Renaissance
painting. The way in which th e light is m ade to play over the body of the
Saviour, the whole appeal to o ur emotions, is quite differen t, is Baroque. It
is easy to dismiss such a picture as sentimental, but we must not forget the
purpose fo r which it was made. It is an altar-pai nting, meant to be
contemplated in prayer and devoti on with candles burning before it.

392

VJSJON 1\ND V ISI ONS

Whatever we may feel about Carracci's methods, Caravaggio and his

partisans certainly did not think highly of them. The two painters, it is
true, were on the best of terms- which was no easy matter in the case of
Caravaggio, for he was of a wild and irascible temper, quick to take offence,
and even to run a da gger tl!rough a man. But his work was on different
lines from Carracci 's. To be afiaid of ugliness seemed to Caravaggio a
contemptible weakness. W hat he wanted was truth. Truth as he saw it. li e
had no liking for classical models, nor any respect fo r 'ideal beauty' . H e
wanted to do away with convention and to think about art afiesh, j)(I,(!CS
30- 1. (t,ellres 15, 16. Some people thought he was mainly out to shock the
public; that he had no respect for any kind ofbeauty or tradition. I le was
o ne of the first pai nters at whom these accusations were levelled and the fi rst
whose outlook was sununed up by his critics in a slogan: he was condemned
as a 'naturalist'. In point offact, C aravaggio was f:.1r too great and serious an
artist to fiitter away his time in trying to cause a sensation. While the critics
argued, he was busy at work. And his work has lost nothing of its boldness
in the three centuries and more since he did it. Consider his painting of

252

Car:tv~ggio

Doubtiug 'f1w111ns,
( . 1602- 3

Oil 011 (.' ,HI\'.lS. I 0 7 X qfi

em . ~.! ~i< x 5i.! in :
S'ithmg Sdtl{h:,t'r und
G:irh.'ll. S.tn,mud.
Pobd.un
1

,I
393

CATHOLIC HJUOPE, FIRST IIALI 0~ THE SEVENTHiNTH CENTURY

St Thomas,figure 252: the three apostles staring at Jesus, one of them poking
his finger into the wound in His side, look unconventional enough. One
can imagine that such a painting struck devout people as being irreverent
and even outrageous. They were accuston"led to seeing the apostles as
dignified figures draped in beautiful folds- here they looked like common
labourers, with weathered faces and wrinkled brows. But, Caravaggio
would have answered, they were old labourers, conunon people- and as to
the unseemly gesture ofDoubting Thmnas, the Bible is quite explicit about
it. Jesus says to hin1: 'Reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and
be not faithless, but believing' (StJohnxx. 27).
Caravaggio's 'naturalistn', that is, his intention to copy nature faithfully,
whether we think it ugly or beautiful, was perhaps more devout than
Carracci's emphasis on beauty. Caravaggio nmst have read the Bible again
and again, and pondered its words. He was one of the great artists, like
Giotto and DUrer before him, who wanted to see the holy events before
his own eyes as if they had been happening in his neighbour's house. And
he did everything possible to make the figures of the ancient texts look
more real and tangible. Even his way of handling 1ight and shade helps to
this end. His light does not make the body look graceful and soft: it is
harsh and almost glaring in its contrast to the deep shadows. But it IDakes
the whole strange scene stand out with an uncompromising honesty which
few ofhis contemporaries could appreciate, but which had a decisive effect
on later artists.
Annibale Carracci and Caravaggio fell out offashion in the nineteenth
century, but have come into their own again. But the impulse they both
gave to the art of painting can hardly be imagined. Both ofthen1 worked in
Rome, and Rome, at the tin1e, was the centre of the civilized world. Artists
fimn all parts ofEurope came there, took part in the discussions 011 painting,
took sides in th'e quarrels of the cliques, studied the oldnusters, and
returned to their native countries with tales of the latest 'n"lovements'n"luch as n1odern artists used to do with regard to Paris. According to their
national traditions and temperaments, artists preferred one or other of the
rival schools in Rorne, and the greatest of them developed their own
personal idiom frmn what they had learned of these foreign n1ovements.
Ron1e still renuins the best vantage point from which to glance at the
splendid panora11"1a of painting in the countries adhering to Roman
Catho1icisn1. Of the nuny Italian masters who developed their style in
Rome, the nwst f:ttnous was probably Guido Reni (I 575-L642), a painter
fionll3ologna who after a brief period ofhesitation threw in his lot with
the school of the Carracci. His fan1e, like that ofhis tnaster, once stood
inuneasurably higher than it happens to stand just now, page 22,jigure 1
There was a tin1e when his name ranked with that ofRaphacl, and if we

394

VISION ANil VISIONS

look at figure 253 we may realize why. Reni painted this fresco on the ceiling
of a palace in Rome in I() T4 It represents Aurora (the Dawn) and the
youthful sun- god Apollo in his chariot, round which the fair maidens of the
Hours (the H orae) dance th eir joyful measure preceded by a torch-bearing
child, the Morning Star. Such are the grace and beauty of this picture of
the radiant rising day that one can understand how it reminded people of
Raphael and his fi:escoes in the Farnesina, page J18,jigure 204. Indeed Reni
wan ted them to think of this great painter, w hom he had set out to emulate.
If modern critics have often though t less highly ofReni 's achievement, this
may be the reason. They feel, or fear, that this very emulation ofanother
master has made Reni's work too self- conscious, too deliberate in its striving
for pure beauty. We need not quarrel over these distinctions. It is no doubt
true that Reni differed from Raphael in his whole approach. With Raphael,
we fed th at the sense ofbeauty and serenity flowed naturally fiom his whole
nature and art; with Reni we feel that he chose to paint like this as a matter of
p1inciplc, and that ifperchance Caravaggio's disciples had convinced him
that he was wron g, he could have adopted a different style . But it was not
Reni's fault that these matters ofp1inciple had been brought up and had
permeated the mind~ and the conversation ofpainters. In fact, it was no
one's fault. Art had been developed to such a point that artists were
inevitably conscious of the ch oice of methods before them. And once we
accept this, we are fi.ee to admire the way in which Reni carried out his
programme ofbeauty, how he deliberately discarded anything in nature that
he considered low and ugly or unsuitable for his lofty ideas, and how his
quest for forms more perfect and more ideal than reality was rewarded with
success. It was Annibale Carracci, Ren.i and their followers w ho formulated
the programme ofidealizing, of'beautif)ring' nature, according to the
standards set by the classical statues. We call it the neo-classical or 'academic'

253

Guido Rcni
Aurora, 1614
Fn.:~to,
110

r. 280 x 700 em,

x 1.76 in;

P;~.l::\770

Pall:wicini-Rospigliosi.
Rome

.!95

15~

Nicola~

Poussin
'Ei iuAraulin c:'!o',
11i3S-9

Oil 011 (',UI\'.1~. ss X

un. n Y.r )( -47% in:

l ouvn. P.aris

1.21

CA IIIOLIC EURUPh, IIR ST

Hill.~

CH

T H~ S~VENT [EN'lll C ~NTUilY

programme as distinct fiom classical art, which is not bound up with any
programme at all. The disputes over it are not likely to cease soon, but no
one denies that among its champions have been great masters who gave
LIS a glimpse of a world of purity and beauty without which we would be
the poorer.
The greatest of the 'academic' masters was the Frenchman Nicolas Poussin
(r5~)4- L065), w ho m ade Rome his adopted home town. Poussin studied the
classical statues with passionate zeal, because he wanted their beauty to help
him convey his vision ofbygone lands ofinnocence and dignity. Fig11re 254
represents one of the most fam ous results of these unremitting studies. It
shows a calm , sunny southern landscape. Beautiful youn g m en and a fair
and dignified you ng woman have gathered round a la rge tomb ofstone.
One ofthe shepherds - for shepherds they are, as we sec by th eir w reaths
and their shepherds' staff.~- has knelt down to try to decipher the inscription
on the tomb, and a second o ne points towards it while he loo ks at the fa ir
shepherdess w ho, like her companion opposite , stands in silent m elancholy.
I tis inscribed in LltinET IN AHC ADlA EGO (Even inArcady I am): l, Death,
reign even in the idyllic dreamland of the pastorals, in Arcady. N ow we
understa nd the wonderful gesture of awe and con templation with whic h the
framing figures gaze at the tomb , and we admire even more the beauty w ith
which the readin g fig ures answer each other's movements . The arrangement
seems simple enough but it is simplicity born ofimm ense artistic knowledge.

396

VISION AND VISIONS

Only such knowledge could evoke this nostalgic vision ofcalm repose in
which death has lost its terror.
It is for the same mood ofnostalgic beauty that the works ofanother
Italianized Frenchman became famous. He was Claude Lorrain
(T()oo- 82), some six yea rs you nger than P oussin. Claude studied the
landscape ofthe R oman Campagna, the plains and hills ro und Rome with
their lovely sou thern hues and their majes tic reminders ofa great past.
Like Poussin, he showed in his sketches that he was a p erfect master of the
realistic representation of nature, and his studies of trees are a joy to look
at. Bu t for his fini shed pictures and etchings he selected only such motifs
as he considered worthy of a place in a dreamlike vision of the past, and he
dipped it all in a golden light or a silvery air which appear to transfigure
the whole scene,figure 255 . It was C laude who first opened people's eyes
to the sublime beauty ofnature, and fo r nearly a cen tury after his death
travellers used to judge a piece ofreal scenery according to his standards.
I f it reminded them ofhis visions, they called it lovely and sat down to

255

Claude lorr:.in
I.tllulsmpr ll'ith sncrf/icc
to Apollo,

1662- 3

Oil Oil C:IIIVJS. 174 X

210 t.'ll1 . 6S 11 x 86~ in:
An~lco;cy Ahhcy.
Cambridgeshire-

397

CATIIOUC EUROf'l"., HHST HAll OF THE SEVFNTEENTH CFNTUH\'

picnic there. RichEnglishtnen went even further and decided to nwdel the
pieces ofnature they caUed their own, the gardens on their estates, on
Claude's drean1s ofbeauty. In this way, many a tract of the lovely English
counttyside should really bear the signature of the French painter who
settled in Italy and tnade the programme of the Carracci his own.
The one northern artist to come tnost directly into contact with the
Roman atmosphere ofCarracci's and Caravaggio's days was a generation
older than Poussin and Claude, and about as old as Guido Rcni. He
was the Flcn1ing Peter Paul Rubens (1577-164o), who came to Rome
in r6oo when he was twenty-three years old- perhaps the most
im.prcssionablc age. He must have listened to many heated discussions
on art, and studied a great nmnber of new and older works, not only
in Ron1e, but also in Genoa and Mantua (where he stayed for son1e
titne). He listened and learned with keen interest, but does not seen1 to
have joined any of the 'nwvctnents' or groups. In his heart he rennined
a Flemish artist- an artist fimn the country where Van Eyck and
Rogier van dcr Weyden and Bruegel had worked. These painters fimn
the Netherlands had always been tnost interested in the variegated
surbces of things: they had tried to usc a11 artistic means known to them
to express the texture of cloth and living flesh, in short to paint as
tithfully as possible everything the eye could sec. They had not troubled
about the standards ofbeauty so sacred to their Italian col1eagues, and
they had not even always shown much concern for dignified subjects. It
was in this tradition that Rubens had grown up, and all his admiration for
the new art that was developing in Italy does not seem to have shaken his
fundamental belief that a painter's business was to paint the world around
hin1; to paint what he liked, to nnkc us feel that he enjoyed the nunifold
living beauty_,.9f things. To such an approach there was nothing
contradictory in Caravaggio's and Carracci's art. Rubens admired the
way in which Carracci and his school revived the painting of classical
stories and n1yths and arranged irnpressive altar-panels for the edification
of the f1ithful; but he also admired the uncomprornising sincerity with
which Caravaggio studied nature.
When Rubens returned to Antwerp in I 6oS he was a rnan of thirtyone, who had learned everything there was to be learned; he had
acquired such 1cility in handling brush and paint, in representing nudes
and drapery, armour and jewels, animals and landscapes, that he had no
rival north of the Alps. His predecessors in Flanders had nwst1y painted
on a srnall scale. He had brought fimn Italy the predilection for huge
canvases to decorate churches and palaces, and this suited the taste of the
dignitaries and princes. He had learned the art of arranging the figures on
a vast scale, and of using light and colours to increase the general effect.

39~

VISION AND VISIONS

Figure 256, a sketch for the painting over the high altar of an Antwerp
church, shows how well he had studied his Italian predecessors, and how
boldly he developed their ideas. It is again the old, time-honoured theme of
the Holy Virgin surrounded by saints, with which artists had grappled at the
time of the Wilton Diptych, pages 216-J?,fifiure 143, Bellini's 'Madonna',
pa,t,J,e 327,jlgure 208, or Titian's 'Pesaro Madonna', page JJO,fiRure 210, and it
tnay be worth while to turn to these illustrations once more to see the
freedmn and case with which Rubens handled the ancient task. One thing
is clear at the flrst glance: there is more nwvement, more light, ntm-c space,
and there are rnore figures in this painting than in any of the earlier ones.
The saints are crowding to the lofty throne of the Virgin in a festive throng.
In the foreground the Bishop St Augustine, the Martyr StLawrence with
the grill on which he suffered, and the monk St Nicholas of Tolentino lead
the spectator on to their object of worship. StGeorge with the Dragon, and
St Sebastian with a quiver and arrows, look into each other's eyes in fervent
emotion, while a warrior- the paln1 of martyrdmn in his hand- is about
to kneel before the throne. A group of women, an1ong them a nun, are
looking up enraptured to the rnain scene, in which a young girl, assisted by
a little angel, is falling on her knees to receive a ring fi-on1 the little Christ
Child, who is bending towards her from_ His mother's lap. It is the legend
of the betrothal ofSt Catherine, who saw such a scene in a vision and
considered herself the Bride of Christ. Stjoseph watches benevolently fron1
behind the throne, and St Peter and St Paul- one recognizable by the key,
the other by the sword- stand in deep conten1plation. They tnake an
effective contrast to the im_posing figure ofSt John on the other side,
standing alone, bathed in light, throwing up his arms in ecstatic admiration
while two charming little angels drag his reluctant lamb up the steps of the
throne. Frmn the sky another pair o~Iittle angels con~e rushing down to
hold a wreath oflaurels over the Virgin's head.
Having looked at the details, we must once more consider the whole,
and admire the grand sweep with which Rubens has contrived to hold all
the figures together, and to irnpart to it all an atn1osphere ofjoyful and
festive solen1nity. Small wonder that a master who could plan such vast
pictures with such sureness of hand and eye soon had more orders for
paintinbrs than he could cope with alone. But this did not worry hin1.
Rubens was a man of great organizing ability and great personal charm;
many gifted painters in Flanders were proud to work under his direction
and thereby to learn from hin1. If an order for a new picture came fion1 one
of the churches, or fiom one of the kings or princes ofEuropc, he would
smnetin1es paint only a snull coloured sketch. (Figure 256 is such a colour
sketch for a large composition.) It would be the task of his pupils or
assistants to transfer these ideas on to the large canvas, and only when they

Peter Paul Rubens

Vh;~i11 awl Child
enthroned ruitlr Sllints,
[. 1()27-8

Sketch for a larg<' ;ilt~r

painting; oil on wood,
~o.2 x .155 em, 31>~ x
~t-Y.in; Gem:ildcg.,]nit,
Staatlichc Mu"'<'ll, Berlin

3\19

CA I"IIOliC

~UI!OPE,

FIRST H A Lr- O F THE

S~.V EN

I"EENTII CENTURY

400

VIS I ON AND VISIONS

had fi nished grounding and

painting according to the master's
ideas might he take the brush again
and touch up a 1ce here and a
silken dress th ere, or smooth out
any harsh contrasts. He was
confident that his brush work could
quickly impart life to anything,
and he was right. For that was the
greatest secret ofRubens's art- his
magic skill in making anything
alive, intensely and joyfully alive.
W e can best gau ge and admire this
mastery of his in some of the simple
drawings, page J6, figure 1, and
paintings done for his own pleasure.
Figure 257 shows the head of a little
girl, probably Rubens's daughter.
T here are no tricks of composition here, no splendid robes or streams of
light, but a simple en face portrait of a child. And yet it seems to breathe
and palpitate like living Aesh. Compared with this, the portraits of earlier
centu ries seem somehow remote and unreal - however great they may
be as works of art. It is vain to try to analyse how Rubens achieved this
impression of gay vitality, but it surely had something to do with th e bold
and delicate touch es ofligh t with w hich he indicated the moisture of the
lips and the modelling of the face and hair. To an even greater degree than
Titian before him, he used th e brush as his main instrument. His paintings
are no longer drawings carefully modelled in colour - th ey are produced
by 'painterly' means, and that enhances the impression oflife and vigou r.
It was a combination of his unrivalled gifts in arranging large colourful
compositions, and in infusing them with buoyant energy, that secured a
1me and success for Rubens such as no painter had enjoyed before. His art
was so eminently suitable to enhance the pomp and splendour of palaces,
and to glorifY the powers of this world, that he enj oyed som ething like a
mon opoly in the sph ere in which he moved . It was the time during w hich
the religious and social tensions ofEurope came to a head in the fearful
Thirty Years' War on the Continent and in the Civil War in England. On
the one side stood the absolute monarchs and their courts, most of them
supp orted by the Catholic Church - on the other t11e rising merchant
cities, most of them Protestant. The Netherlands th emselves were divided
into Protestant Holland, which resisted Spanish 'Catholic' domination, and
Catholic Flanders, ruled from Antwerp under Spanish allegiance. It was as

157

Peter Paul Rubens

!lead ofa cllild,
probably the artist's
dau)!llfer Clam Sereua,
c. 1616
O il on C;'lUVOIS, mounted
on wood, 33 x 26.3 rm, I J
x 10~ in; Srunmlungen dl'1
Filrstcn von Li echtemtein,
Vadu7

..J.OI

\.1\ I H U liC [UROI'l- , liltS

r llr\lf or

T Ht~ St-. V l- NTEENTI1

C:CNllJUY

158

!'eta Paul Rubt:ll~

S!f-p<>rtmit, c. t6 W
Oil on cJJl\'.h. I OtJ. S x
1
~'inu ...f3111 x jj 1lH:
t\,un~thtslorisdlt.'S
\lu~ttml. Vit.mu

the painter of the Catholic camp that Rubens rose to his unique position.
He accepted commissions fi:om the Jesuits in Antwerp and fiom the
Catholic rulers of Flanders, ftom Kin g Louis XIII ofFrance and his crafty
mother Ma1ia de' M edici, fiom Kin g Philip III ofSpain and King C harles I
ofEngland, who conferred a kn igh thood on him . When tra velling fiom
court to court as an honoured guest, he was often charged with delicate
political and diplomatic missions, fi)rem ost among them that of effecti ng
a reconciliation between England and Spain in the interest of w hat we
would call today a 'reactionary' bloc. Meanwhile he remained in touch
with the scholars of his age, and engaged in learned Latin correspondence
on questions of archaeology and art. H is self-portrait wi th the nobleman's
sword,Ji(!//re 258, shows that he was very conscious ofhis l11Ut]Ue position .
Yet there is nothi ng pornpous or vain in the shrewd look of his eyes . H e

~02

VISION AND VISION S

remained a true artist. All the while, pictures of dazzling mastery pou red
out fiom his Antwerp studi os on a stu pendous scale. Under his hand, the
classical fables and allego1ical inventions became as convincingly alive as
the picture of his own daughter.
Allegorical pictures are usually regarded as rather boring and abstract,
bu t for the age of Rubens they were a conve nient m eans of expressing
ideas. Figure 25 9 is such a picture, which Ru bens is said to have presented as
a gift to C harles 1, when he t1ied to induce him to make peace w ith Spain.
The painting contrasts the blessings of peace w ith the horrors of wa r.
Minerva, the goddess of wisdom and the civilizing arts, drives away Mars,
who is about to withdraw- his dreadful companion, the Fury of war,
ha ving already turn ed back. And under the protection of Min erva the j oys
of peace ar c spread o ut before our eyes, symbols of fiuitfulness and plenty
as only Rubens could conceive them: P eace offering her breast to a child,
a faun blissfull y eyeing the gorgeous fiuits,.fi,~?ure 260, the oth er companions
of Bacchus, dancing macnads with gold and treasures, and the panther
playing peacefully like a big cat; on the other side three children w ith
anxious eyes, fl eeing fiom the terror of wa r to the haven of peace and

259

Peter P;ml Rubens

Ali<;~ory 011

'!f'penre,

the blessiii.~S

162~-30

Oil on c uwa'\, .!OJ-5 x

19~

nn , Xo!-4 x

11

7~

in ;

Narion al GJIIcry. London

-l03

CATHOliC EUHOI'~, FIRST HAl~ OF TH io ~c\I [ NTHN I H CENTUI!Y

plenty, crowned by a young genius. No one who loses himself in the 1ich
details of this picture, with its vivid contrasts and glowing colours, can fail
to sec that these ideas were to Rubens not pale abstractions but forceful
realities. Perhaps it is because of this quality that som e people must first
get accustomed to Rubens before they begin to love and understand him.
H e had n o use for the 'ideal' for ms of classical beauty. They were too
rernote and abstract for him. f-l is m en and women are living beings such
as he saw and liked. And so, since slenderness was not the fashion in the
Flanders of his day, some people object to the 'f:1t women' in his pictures.
This criticism , of course, has little to do with art and we need not,
therefore, take it too seriously. B ut, since it is so often made, it may be
well to realize that j oy in exuberant and almost boisterous life in all its
manifestations saved Rubens fiom becoming a mere virtuoso of his art. It
turned his paintings fi-om mere Baroque decorations of festive halls into
masterpieces which retain their vitality even within the chilling
atmosphere of museums.
Among Rubens's many famous pupils and assistants, the greatest and
most independent was Anthon y va n Dyck (1599- T641) , who was twentytwo years his junior, and belonged to the generation ofPoussin and
Claude Lorrain. H e soon acquired all the virtuosity of Rubens in rendering
the texture and sur1ee of things, whether it were silk or human Aesh, but

z6o

l>cu1l of figure l .W

..J.O..J.

VJSJON t\ND VJSJONS

-105

161

j\urhon)' von Dyck

Clurrks I II[ F.uglmuf,
... lli35
()II on l-Jn\".t"', .!(>6 x .!07
dll

I0~~ -4 x ~ ' in:

IVII\W. f>,ui~

z62

J\uthouy van Dyck

f.NdJoltu ,,d L""rf
Hmwd Swm1, c. t 638
Oil Oil

((111\',1\,
1

.!J7.5 )(

q(.l nn. ~)j x

57' i1l:

N.llion.tl G.llkry. Lundou

C;\T ttOliC: H I HOVE. fiRST HAll

U~

Ttt[ SEVEN I H N Itt CENT U RY

he differed widely fiom his m aster in temperament and rnoo d. It seems

that Van D yck was no t a healthy man, and in his paintings a languid and
slightly melanchol y mood often prevails. It may have been th is quality that
appealed to the austere noblemen of Genoa and to the cavaliers of Charles
l's en tourage. In 1632 he had becom e the Court Painter of C harles I, and
his name was anglicized into Sir Anthony Va ndyke. It is to him that we
owe an artistic reco rd of this society with its defiantly aristocratic bearin g
and its cult of courtly refinemen t. I Iis portrait of Charles !,figure 26 1, j ust
dismounted fiom his horse on a hunting expedition, showed the Stuart
monarch as he would have wished to live in history: a figure of matchless
elegance, of unqu estio ned authority and hi gh culture, the patron of the
arts, and the uph o lder of the divine 1ight ofkings, a man who needed no
o utw ard trappings of power to enh ance his natural dignity. No wonder
that a painter w ho could bring ou t these quali ties in his portraits w ith su ch
perfection was eagerly so ught after by society. In fact, Van D yck was so
overburdened wi th commissions for portraits that he, like his master
Rubens, was unable to cope with them all himself H e had a number of
assista n ts, who painted the costumes of his sitters aJTanged on dummies,
and he did not always pai n t even the whole o f the head. Some of these
portraits are uncomfortably near the flattering fashion- dummies o flater
periods, and th ere is no doubt that VanDyck
esta blished a dan gerous preced en t w hich did mu ch
harm to po rtrait painting. Bu t all this can not detract
fiom th e g reatness o f his best portraits. Nor should
it make us forget that it was he, more than anyone
else, w ho helped to crystallize the ideals ofblueblooded nobility and gentlemanly ease,.figure 262,
w hi ch emi ch o ur vision of rnan no less tha11 d o
Rubens's robu st and sturdy figures of overb1imming life.
O n one of his j ourneys to Spai n , Rubens had
m et a youn g painter who was born in the same
year as his p upil VanDyck, and w ho filled a
position at the court of King Philip IV in Madrid
similar to tha t o f Van D yck at the co urt of Charles L
li e was Diego Velazquez (1599- rooo). T hough he
had not yet been to ltaly, Velazq uez had been
profi)lmdly irnpressed by the discoveries and th e
manner of Caravaggio, w hich he got to know
through the work of imi tators. H e had absorbed the
progranune of' naturalism', and devoted his art to
the dispassionate observation of nature regardless of

.tOll

V I S ION AND VISIO NS

>63

Diego Vcl:'<z<]ue',
?he "''" ''r-seller !f
SI'IJil/t, (. 1619- .W
Oil Oil

C:Hl\1,1\, 106.7 X
XI em. .f2 x 31%. in:
\Vdlington Mm.cm11,
Apdq Hml Sl~ , Loudon

conventions. F~~tl/'e 263 shows one of his early works, an old man selling
water in the streets of Seville. It is a gen re picture of the type the
Netherlanders invented to display their skill, but it is done with all the
intensity and penetration of Cara vaggio's ' Doubting Thomas' ,figure 252.
The old man with his worn and wrinkly face and his ragged cloak, the
big earthenware flask with its rounded shape, the surface of the glazed
jug and the play of light on the transparent glass, all this is painted so
convincingly that we feel we could to uch the objects. No one who stands
before this picture feels inclined to ask whether the objects represented are
beautiful or ugly, or whether the scene it represents is important or trivial.
Not even the colours are strictly beautiful by themselves. Drown, grey,
greenish to nes prevail. And yet, the whole is j oined together in such a rich
and mellow ha1mony that the picture remains quite unforgettable to
anyone who has ever paused in fi-om of it.
On the advice ofRubens, Velazquez obtained leave to go to Rome

I07

CA I HOLI C: liURO I' r., flf<ST IIAI.I OF

T H~

S[VEN rE E N I H CEN I URY

164

J) 1cgo Vcl5zqu ~>

p,lpt lum)(Cilf

X,

11>4!1-50
tlll ont-.mVJS, qo x

:uun. HY-1 x .nVt in;

11 11cri.~ DoriJ Pamphiij,

ltunl~

to study th e paintings of the great masters. He went there in 1630 but

soon returned to M ad1id where, apa rt from a second Italian journey, he
remained as a famous and respected member of th e court ofPhilip IV.
His main task was to paint the portraits of the King and th e members of
th e royal family. While few of them had attractive, or even interesting,
faces, they certainly insisted on their dignity, and dressed in a stiff and
unbecoming fashion. Not a very inviting task for a painter, it would seem.
But Velazquez transformed these p ortraits, as if by magic, into some of the
most fascinating pieces of painting the world has ever seen. He had long
given up too close an adherence to Caravaggio's manner. He had studied
the brushwork ofRubens and ofTitian, but there is nothing 'secondhand'
in his mode of approaching natu re. Figure 264 shows Velazquez's portrait
of Pope Innocent X, painted in Rome in r649- 50, a little m ore than a
hundred years after Titian's Paul III, page 3J5,figure 214; it reminds us that
in the history of art the passage of time need not always lead to a change in

40~

V IS ION A ND V ISIONS

outlook. Velazquez surely felt the challenge of that masterpiece, much as

Titian had been stimulated by Raphael's group, page ]22,.f1gure 206. But for
all his mastery ofTitian's means, the way his brush renders the sheen of
tbe material and the sureness of touch w ith w hich he seizes the Pope's
expression, we do not doubt for a mornent that this is the nun himself and
not a well-rehearsed formula. Nobody who goes to Rome sho uld miss the
b'Tcat experience of seeing this masterpiece in the Palazzo Doria Pamphili.
Indeed, Velazquez's mature works rely to such an extent on the effect of
the brushwork, and on the delicate harmony of the colours, that
illustrations can give only very little idea of w hat the originals are like.
Most of all this applies to his enormous canvas (some ten feet high) which
goes under th e name Las Meninas (the maids ofhonour),_fi.~ure 266. W e
sec Vcl;.lzqucz himself at work on a large painting and if we look more
carefully we also discover what it is he is painting. The m.irror on the back
wall of the studio refl ects the fi gures of the King and Queen ,figure 265,
who are sitting for their portrai t. We therefore sec what they sec - a crowd
of people w ho ha ve come into the studio. It is their li ttle daughter, the
fnf:1nta Margarita, flanked by tvvo maids of honour, o ne of them serving
her rcfi-cshmcnts while the other curtsies to the royal couple. We know
their names as we also know about the tvvo dwarE (the ugly female and
the boy teasing a dog), who were kept for amusement. The grave adults
in the background seem to rnake sure that the visitors behave.
What exactly does it all signify? We may never know, but
I should like to fancy that Velazquez has arrested a real moment of ti m e
long before the invention of the
camera. P erhaps the princess was
brought into the royal presence to
relieve the boredom of the sitting
and the King or Queen remarked
to Velazquez that here was a
worthy subject for his brush.
The words spoken by the
sovereign arc always treated as a
conu11a1Kl and so '~'C may owe
this masterpiece to a passing wish
w hich only Velazquez was able
to turn into reali ty.
But of course Velazquez did not
usually rely on such in c ident~ to
transform his records of reality into
great paintings. There is nothing
unconventional in a portrait such as

266

Diego Vd{Jzqucz
L l15 J
'leuilws , 1056
Oil ou t'Jmas. JiS x
1.76 Clll. l.:!j\IS: X IOX.Y1 in:

Pr.Hio. M,1clrid

DL'l~til ofl igu n~

266

~09

CA I'HUI I C cUilOPE, !'IUS I HALf UF TilE SEV k N'I I+N I H CENTUil\'

..J-1 ()

VI S ION A N D V IS IONS

267

lJit:go Vcl:izquez
Pri11a Philip Prosper
c!fSpaill, 1659
Oil on canv~. llS.j x
50 x .llJ in;
Kunsthhtori'f"h<."s

IJ'J-5 em .

MlL\t."lllll.

his picture of the two- year-old Prince Philip Prosper ofSpain,jig ure 267,
nothing, perhaps, that strikes us at first glance. l3 ut in the origi1ial, the
various shades of red (from the 1i ch Persian carpet to the velvet chai r, the
curtain , the sleeves and the rosy cheeks of the child), combin ed with the
cool and silvery tones of white and grey which shade into the background ,
result in a unique harmony. Even a little m otif like the small dog on the
red chair reveals an unobtrusive mastery w hich is truly miraculous. If w e
look back at the little dog in Jan van Eyck's portrait of the Arnolfi ni

Vieuu.&

411

CATHO liC E UROPE, FIRST II ALr OF TilE SEVEN T EENT H C:ENTURY

couple, page 243,.figure 160, we see with w hat different m eans great artists
can achieve their effects. Van Eyck took pains to copy evety curly hair of
the little creature- Velazquez, two hundred years later, tried only to catch
its characteristic impression. Like Leonardo, only more so, he relied on
our imagination to follow his guidance and to supplement what h e had left
out. Though he did not paint one separate hair, his little dog looks, in
effect, more furry and natural than Van Eyck's. It was for effects like these
that the founders oflmpressionism in nineteenth- centmy Paris admired
Velazquez above all other painters of the past.
To sec and observe nature w ith ever-ficsh eyes, to discover and enjoy
ever-new harmonies of colours and lights, had become the essential task
of the painter. In tllis new zeal, the great masters of Catholic Europe
found them.sclves at one with the painters on the other side of the
political barrier, the great artists of the Protestant Netherlands.

An artist's pul1 iu
srlwllleeuth ceut11ry
l~omr,

with cnricntures

on the wall, c. 1625-39

Duwing by Pic:rc:r VJ il
Lur; pen, ink and wa:~oh on
PliX'r, 20.J X zs.B em ,
S X IO~ in;
Kupfersticllkabinetl,
St.tatl iclJc Musccn, Bcrli n