The Sistine Madonna and la Fornarina
People who are not content to accept the old-fashioned traditions concerning pictures and artists will be pleased with some recent discoveries about Raphael made by the art critics. These ingenious persons have practically exhausted Leonardo da Vinci, who for many years was their favorite quarry, having proved to their own satisfaction that nearly every picture ascribed to him was painted by some one else. They have now turned upon Raphael, and in the merciless but scientific dissection of his works and his life not only the authenticity but the fame of his Sistine Madonna has been placed in question. The chain of circumstantial evidence, it is true, seems incomplete in parts, but the missing links will be supplied by that faith which science often demands no less than legend.
Raphael has the unusual distinction of having had an excellent reputation among his contemporaries. He was a hard worker, and his private life was so uneventful as to excite no comment. This was hardly artistic, so, fifty years after his death, Vasari supplied him with a nameless mistress, a baker’s daughter, “La Fornarina,” whom the painter saw and loved in her father’s garden, near the Church of Santa Cecilia, in the Trastevere quarter at Rome. In another fifty years this story had grown into the well known tale of the painter’s passionate love bringing about his early death, and the beautiful, sensuous face of “La Fornarina” in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence made it credible. Sentimental persons looked on her portrait and then on Raphael’s own, and had no doubts.
Then came the critics. They proved that it was not Raphael but Sebastian del Piombo who had painted the portrait, and that it represented not “La Fornarina” but an entirely different woman, a beauty of Bologna. Their scepticism, however, stopped short of rejecting the whole story. They cling to that in all its details, and one of them, Signor Valeri, of Rome, has just confirmed it by discovering “La Fornarina’s” name. His method is interesting.
First, he found in somebody’s manuscript life of Goethe that “La Fornarina’s” Christian name was Margarita; next, in a census of Rome made in 1518, two years before Raphael’s death, kept in the Vatican library, he discovered that a baker named Francesco, from Siena, kept a bakery near the Church of Santa Cecilia; finally, he searched in the registers of the nunnery of Santa Apollonia, and found there under the date August 18, 1520, four months after Raphael’s death, the name of “Margarita, daughter of the late Francesco Luti of Siena,” as having been received into the convent as a nun. Therefore this Margarita Luti or Luzzi must necessarily be “La Fornarina.”
This demonstration was hardly needed by the art critics, whose faith in the existence of the Fornarina was unshaken. Having discredited the Uffizi portrait, they looked around among Raphael’s other paintings for her features. For a time they inclined to the “Veiled Woman” in the Pitti Gallery, but finally settled on the Sistine Madonna as representing the painter’s beloved. The evidence for the identification is of the slightest, and surely the simple peasant girl, whose innocence and loveliness alone the painter has transmitted to us, might have been left unsmirched. Such as it is, however, the identification is shaken by another art critic. A lynx-eyed young German iconoclast has cast doubts on the authenticity of the Dresden Gallery’s treasure, and declares boldly that the picture is not the “Madonna di San Sisto,” and that in all likelihood Raphael never painted it. His attack is backed by such a display of erudition that the director of the gallery went to Italy to find out if there might not be some foundation of truth in it.
While critics wrangle over unessentials, however, the Sistine Virgin, the loveliest creation of Raphael’s genius, will grace our homes, the most overpowering figure known to the tablets of art.