What gain to thee the charming Fornarina?—Page 96.
The universal adoption of this name as applied to Raphael's
mistress is a curious instance, among many, how a bold invention
comes in time to be adopted as fact. Of Raphael's mistress
nothing is known beyond what is recorded by Vasari, who in
matters of this kind is not always to be relied on, that Raphael
had a mistress, who lived with him in Rome, and for whom he
made liberal provision on being seized by the sudden and rapid
illness which carried him off. The name ‘La Fornarina,’ according
to Passavant (vol. i. p. 227), is used for the first time in the
middle of the last century by T. Puccini (‘Real Galleria di Firenze,’
p. 6.) and yet this name is repeated as confidently now-a-days,
as though it had been regularly transmitted from Raphael's own
time. Who the lady was, or what were her peculiar fascinations, is
merely a matter of conjecture; but that she possessed qualities of
a rare and noble order no one can doubt who has felt the elevation
and sweetness, unequalled by any other artist, which distinguish
Raphael's women. Such a man could never have loved
ignobly, and the intercourse with a spirit so gloriously endowed
as his must have developed all the latent womanly excellence,
which, in the first instance, had attracted Raphael towards her.
Of the many portraits, scattered through the galleries of Italy,
which bear her name, Passavant, in his ‘Life of Raphael,’ (vol. i.
p. 244, et seq.) satisfactorily shows, that the only one which can
be genuine is that in the Pitti Palace in Florence. The portrait
in the Barberini Palace in Rome, which is generally received as
the likeness of Raphael's mistress, speaks forcibly against the
claim set up for it, in the cold and unintellectual characteristics of
the face, and the absence of every quality calculated to attract,
or at least to hold under the spell of years, a man of refined tastes
and thoughtful habits. But the historical evidences are conclusive
against both this and the more agreeable female portrait in
the tribune of the Uffizi in Florence. It must gratify all who
have lingered over the winning, and noble, and most womanly fear
tures of the portrait in the Pitti Palace, shaping a history for he-
who so looked and smiled with such ‘serious sweetness,’ to be
informed, upon grounds which place the question almost beyond
a doubt, that this picture preserves for us the lineaments on which
Raphael gazed with the growing fondness of years of intimacy,
and that the arguments in favour of this conclusion are confirmed
by the fact, that it is the same face which we see idealised in his
Saint Cecilia and in the Madonna di San Sisto. This portrait is
thus spoken of by the eloquent American writer quoted in a
previous note:—‘The face is not one of rare beauty, nor is it in the
earliest bloom of youth, but it is a winning and cordial face,
breathing gentleness, warmth of heart, and resolute firmness of
purpose, were it needed. It is, too, a domestic countenance, suggesting a happy wife and mother, and a home brightened by
an active spirit and a loving nature. There is so much character
and such marked individuality in the countenance, that we cannot
pass it by as a mere ‘Portrait of a Lady.’ We are constrained to
pause and speculate, and to say to ourselves, ‘Who were you that
look out of the canvas with that loving, sensible, animated face?’
But we ask in vain. It is a fragment of the past, telling no story,
and linked to no associations. It is a face without a history.’—
(
Six Months in Italy, Vol. i., p. 121). Learn from Passavant
that this is indeed the portrait of Raphael's mistress, and what
better history can be desired for such a face?
