TITIAN'S PORTRAIT OF WRITTEN BY GEORG GRONAU1 BOUT the middle of the year 1543, somewhere between June 20 and 25, a meeting of Paul III and Charles V was arranged at Busseto between Parma and Cremona with a view to the settlement of the political differences outstanding at that date. In the train of the pope came Titian, who on every occasion when the emperor set foot on Italian soil took the opportunity of paying his addresses to the monarch. On this occasion, too, the emperor had a commission for him; Titian was instructed to paint a portrait of the dead empress. From Aretino's letters-which, apart from their personal fascination which no reader of them is able to resist, are second to none as a source of information on the life of the great painter-a few further details of the incident are to be gleaned, for some days later Aretino, in the company of Duke Guidobaldo of Urbino and of the Venetian ambassadors, met the emperor near Peschiera in the course of his journey to Germany. It was one of the red letter days in Messer Pietro's life, and, fulfilled with vain-glory, he was never tired of talking of the marked consideration wherewith, if his chronicle is to be trusted, the emperor received him. On this occasion, when portraiture became the topic of conversation, Charles referred to the portrait of his wife that he had given to Titian at Busseto, and told Aretino to tell his godfather that it was a very good likeness, though the work of a painter of small merit.2 From Aretino's letters we glean further particulars. In October 1544 he addresses a letter to the emperor wherein he extols the completed picture in such high-flown phrases as to baffle translation.3 'In defiance of 1 Translated from the original German by P. H. Oakley Williams. 2 Cf. Aretino, Lettere' (Paris, 1609), Vol. III, p. 36 verso. 1. c., p. 76 verso. Death, he has called her back to life by the inspiration of his colours, so that God possesses her for the first, Charles for the second time.' Although his words sound as if he were speaking of a finished picture, Titian, it would appear, did not dispatch the picture to the emperor until about a year later. In October 1545 he informed the monarch that he had handed the two portraits at which he had been working with all the diligence of which he was capable, over to Mendoza to be forwarded. A few months later he was writing again from Rome, whither he had gone at the bidding of the Farnesi, to say that he had delivered his own portrait of the empress, 'together with the other which had been given to me to copy,' to Don Diego. And he adds: 'If I hear that it finds favour I shall feel the greatest satisfaction; but in the contrary event, I should prefer to improve it in such a manner as to content your majesty if our Lord God vouchsafes me to be able to come to bring a picture of Venus by me,' etc. 4 ¶ A little more than two years later Titian arrived at Augsburg at the summons of the emperor, who on this occasion wished once again to see himself portrayed by his favourite painter, this time as the conqueror of the Protestant princes, uplifted and on horseback. It involved a long sojourn. Towards the end of it, on September 1, 1548, Titian wrote to Granvella to explain his prospects to him, and in this letter enumerates the pictures he had done for the emperor, among them "The empress alone and the one of the emperor and empress.' Here a little difficulty arises. Has Titian then painted a single portrait of the empress on two occasions, one between 1 1543 and 1545, the other in 1548? Or, on the other hand, is the work referred to in this 1 Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Titian,' Vol. II, Doc. LXVII. This letter, which is little known, is to be found in Charavay, 'Inventaire des Autographes de B. Fillon' (Paris, 1879). Vol. II, p. 300. the double portrait has been lost, the picture of the empress has found a place in that incomparable collection of Titian's works which the Prado gallery in Madrid comprises. It is one of Titian's most important works; perhaps, indeed, it takes the first place among his portraits of women. Never is his taste more exquisite than here. Its courtly splendour strikes one as a matter of course. In the midst of glorious colourred and white-the pale, somewhat colourless face stands out framed by its fair reddish hair; the hand clasps a breviary. A window to the right opens on a landscape scene, one of those glimpses of Nature such as Titian had the secret of conjuring up with his brush with such incomparable art. No one looking at the picture would ever be able to suspect how it was painted; that its painter had never seen his model with his own eyes. It was no uncommon thing, by the way, for Titian to paint the portraits of people whom he did not even know by sight. He was proud of his skill of being able to recognize the characteristic traits of a man or woman even from another artist's work.' We can, however, only realize the work of genius for which this portrait of Isabella stands when we compare it with the picture with which the emperor had furnished him, that portrait by 'a painter of small merit.' The picture itself has, it is true, been wholly lost, but a copy of it has recently come to light in Florence, and is reproduced in these pages for the first time. That we are not mistaken in assuming it to be a replica of the original from which Titian worked will be proved by the complete coincidence of all the principal characteristics of the picture in Madrid with the 1 Cf. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Vol. I, Doc. XVII. one before us. In the Florentine picture the empress is wearing a black robe with white puffed sleeves, a great deal of jewelry, and is holding a spray of foliage in her hand. The picture is, for the most part, sombre in tone, and the face stands out most effectively in its pallor. It has that diaphanous whiteness noticeable in anæmic people. The dull reddish hair frames it heavily. The background is a grey green; in a niche, over which a dull red curtain is draped, the symbol of the exalted rank of the sitter, the imperial crown, is represented. To judge from its style this picture dates back to a Flemish master, though, with the somewhat scanty inherent evidence available, it is impossible to suggest the name of any particular artist. The picture originates from Bologna, where it was in the possession of the Pepoli family. That in itself is interesting, for we know that Isabella's sister, Beatrice, duchess of Savoy, had taken up her quarters in the Pepoli palace during the rejoicings in 1530 in celebration of Charles V's coronation, and that it was the scene of a brilliant ball which the emperor honoured with his presence. It would be well within the bounds of possibility, therefore, that the portrait of the empress, who had been prevented (she had been confined a short time previously) from coming to Bologna, had passed into possession of the Pepoli as a present at first hand, either from the emperor or from the duchess. A replica, with a few trivial distinctions, of the picture is entered in the inventory of the house of Farnese (about 1680). In this the left hand is resting on the back of the chair.1 ¶The Florentine picture has undoubtedly a conspicuous iconographic importance as the most authentic portrait of the woman who shared the throne of Charles V. At the same time, its value from the standpoint of the history of art is immeasurably greater, inasmuch as it affords us a most interesting insight into Titian's 1 Cf. Campori, 'Raccolta di Cataloghi,' p. 275. A plate of de Iode, mentioned by Crowe and Cavalcaselle, has also, it appears, been done from this picture. |