By using this website you agree to our Cookie policy

January 2000

Vol. 142 | No. 1162

The Burlington Magazine

Editorial

Twenty Hundred

At the time of writing, millennial fatigue has settled over Britain like an old-fashioned London fog. Having been forced to embrace the millennial idea earlier and more insistently than any other country except Italy, most of the population is now thoroughly fed up with it. Hopes are not high for the inordinately expensive and largely vacuous Millennium Dome, or (with some exceptions) for the approaching tidal wave of exhibitions on theological, apocalyptic, cosmic or chronometric themes. So far only the 'London Eye', the enormous ferris wheel on the South Bank, has captured the popular imagination, immediately taking its place as the joyful London landmark the dome so signally fails to be.

 

Editorial read more
  • Lorenzo Lotto in the Stanza della Segnatura

    By Arnold Nesselrath

    When the thin layer of dirt was removed from the frescoes on the fourth, or Jurisprudence, wall of the Stanza della Segnatura in the Vatican Palace during the final phase of the restoration programme in the room, all three compositions became much more legible and the splendour of the original colours was to a large extent revealed (Figl). At the same time it became possible to form a more accurate assessment of the varying state of preservation of the individual scenes. More strikingly, it also became apparent that the scene of Tribonian presenting the Pandects to the Emperor Justinian to the left of the window was executed by a different hand from the other paintings on this wall. It is here proposed that the artist responsible was Lorenzo Lotto, an identification which not only fleshes out our knowledge of Lotto's shadowy but documented Roman sojourn, but also makes it necessary to re- assess Raphael's use of collaborators during the early stages of his work in the Vatican.

     

     

  • Portraits of Philip II of Spain as King of England

    By P. G. Matthews

    Among the numerous portraits of Philip II of Spain is a group of works dating from the 1550s depicting the prince in his mid-to-late twenties dressed in a black and yellow costume with gold buttons and wearing a black cap.' Remarkably similar one to another, these portraits of Philip are by a number of artists. They include a bust-length portrait in the Prado (Figl9); two small bust-length roundels, the first in the collection of H.M. Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands (Fig.20), the second formerly in Berlin (Fig2 1); and a three- quarter length late sixteenth or seventeenth-century copy known as the 'Ditchley' portrait (Fig.22).2 Other artists used the type within larger compositions: examples are the full- length portrait dated 1558 of the king with his wife Mary I of England in Woburn Abbey (Fig.23); and a bust-length miniature hung around the neck of Philip's sisterJoanna of Austria in her portrait by Alonso Sanchez Coello of c. 1557 (Fig.25); the figllre also appears full-length in a large anti- Habsburg and anti-Catholic allegorical painting ofthe Tudor succession at Sudeley Castle, dated c.1572 and attributed to Lucas de Heere (Fig.24).

     

  • Gilbert Scott's 'Bold and Beautiful Experiment', Part II: The Tomb of Charlotte, Lady Canning

    By Angus Trumble

    In 1856 Sir Charles Hothman's death had prompted a sharp debate in the legislature of Victoria, Australia, about the nature and cost of the dead governor's tomb monument. Less than six years later, the death of Charlotte Canning (1817- 61) whose husband was Governor-General and Viceroy of India at the time of the Mutiny of 1857-58, generated an extraordinary, unanimous demonstration of patriotic grief. Lady Canning had contracted jungle fever during a journey from Darjeeling to Calcutta, and died in November 1861, a few days after reaching Government House. Intensified by the death less than a month later of Queen Victoria's Prince Consort, the atmosphere of public sorrow created around Lady Canning a strong and enduring symbolism of feminine virtue that spread to all corners of the Empire. 'Her serene courage', wrote Lord Canning's biographer, 'in hours of danger and anxiety, when the hearts of many around her were failing them for fear [i.e. during the Indian Mutiny] - her readiness to help in all beneficent projects - her sympathy with all human suffering - her nobility of character, shining bright about catastrophe and vicissitude, made her death a public loss - a common sorrow- and make her memory now one that Englishmen treasure among the precious relics of their country's past."

     

  • Cesare da Sesto and Baldino Baldini in the Vatican Apartments of Julius II

    By Tom Henry

    In 1978 Christoph Frommel published excerpts from a document of June 1508 recording a payment of one hundred ducats to ' Cesar et Balduinas socii pictores' for paintings they were executing in the Vatican Palace.l On its own the document is frustratingly imprecise, but such is the desire for fresh insights into Pope Julius II's decoration of the Vatican, that it has been pressed into service to support attributions to Cesare da Sesto in the Stanza di Eliodoro and in detached frescoes traditionally associated with the destroyed aviary (the 'uccelltera').

     

  • Poussin's Purloined Letter

    By Jonathan Unglaub

    It is well known that most of Poussin's theoretical statements, both in his correspondence and in the 'Osservazioni sopra la pittura', were paraphrased, often copied, from identifiable textual sources. These include relatively modern treatises such as Tasso's Discorsi del boema eroico, Agostino Mascardi's Dell'arte historica, and Gioseffo Zarlino's Le Istitutioni harmoniche. In these instances, Poussin's coping is mitigated by the private, ad hoc, circumstances of transcription. Bellori and Felibien uncovered, published, and possibly edited these documents only after the artist's death, these kernels of Poussin's art theory having originally been either the painter's personal notations of his studies or fragments of an unrealised treatise on painting. In some letters, including the famous one to Paul Freart de Chantelou devoted to the Modes, Poussin transcribed his recent readings, without citation, to enlighten his finicky patron on some of the finer points of aesthetic judgment.' All of this seems harmless enough. Yet, in at least one instance, Poussin indulged his tendency to 'plagiarise', and did so in an official capacity.