We have few details of the last years of Francia’s life, but the dates that mark some of his pictures show us that his powers were not impaired, nor his activity diminished with advancing age.
It would be interesting to know how he was affected by the return of his friends, the Bentivogli, who in 1511 entered Bologna again, on the retreat of the Papal troops before the French army under Gaston de Foix. The fickle Bolognese were as glad to be rid of the Pope as they had ever been to expel their former tyrant, and destroyed the statue which Julius II. had erected of himself on the principal square. But the Bentivogli only enjoyed their return to power during a very brief space. In a few months the conquering advance of the French army was checked by the death of Gaston de Foix in the battle of Ravenna; the Pope’s troops again entered Bologna, the Bentivogli fled once more, and the city was heavily fined and deprived of many of its former privileges.
All we hear of Francia in these stormy times is that in 1511 he was elected one of the sixteen Gonfalioneri of the people, which proves that he still retained the popular favour, and that his changeable fellow-countrymen had not wavered in their affection and regard for him. In 1512 he was once more elected master of the Goldsmiths’ Guild, and in 1514 he attained the dignity of Master of the four arts. “He was reverenced as a god in Bologna,” says Vasari, “and not even his friendship for Raphael, and his desire to see the larger works of the great painter, could tear him away from his native city.”
The fame of his works had spread over all Italy and had attracted a large number of scholars, as many, it is said, as two hundred. Several of the best of these passed into the school of Raphael, as Timoteo Viti had already done, and adopted a style which has little in common with that of Francia. Such were Innocenza da Imola and Bartolommeo Ramenghi, of Bagnacavallo, whose influence became prominent in the Bolognese school after Francia’s death, and who have left many of their works in the churches and Gallery of Bologna.
Others followed more closely in Francia’s steps, and contented themselves for the most part with weak and conventional repetitions of those Saints and Madonnas which his genius had rendered popular. Chief among these was Francia’s own son, Giacomo Raibolini, an active and careful artist who never aspired to originality, and whose conceptions are generally wanting in life and freedom. Three of his best panels are in the Berlin Museum, and we often find them in other collections under his father’s name.
There is a fine portrait of him in the Pitti Palace, Florence, and as an engraver he rose to the first rank, some of his prints being equal in delicacy and finish to those of Marc Antonio himself.
Francia’s second son, Giulio by name, also became a painter, and was associated with Giacomo in the execution of several panels, which are distinguished by the signature J. J. Francia. Giacomo died in 1557; Giulio at some time after 1543.
Another of Francia’s assistants whom he employed, as he did Giacomo, in the frescoes of Cecilia, was Amico Aspertini, a wayward and eccentric artist, who travelled in many parts of Italy, and received the surname “dai due pennelle,” from his habit of working with both hands, holding one brush for dark, and the other for pale tints. His numerous paintings in Bologna have mostly perished, and the best works by him which remain are the frescoes of the Volto Santo in San Frediano at Lucca, painted by him about the same time that Francia executed his two altar-pieces for that church.
Besides these, Francia’s influence left its mark on several of the Ferrarese, especially on Costa’s pupil, Ercole Grandi II., and on the Ravenna artists, one of whom, Girolamo Marchesi da Cotignola, painted several works at Bologna, and was summoned to take the portrait of Gaston de Foix as he lay dead on the battle-field.
Thus the latter part of Francia’s life was partly spent in directing the efforts of this large number of scholars, all engaged in the production of the numerous works in his style, and often bearing his name, which are scattered throughout Europe. A few genuine panels of his last years are still, however, to be seen. A Madonna dated 1511 is in Casa Pertusati at Milan, and a small God the Father in the Ercolani collection at Bologna bears Francia’s signature and the date 1514. Two larger and more important works belong to the following year, 1515. One of these is the “Madonna and Saints” in the Gallery of Parma, formerly in the possession of the Sanvitale family, and resembling his earlier creations in most points; it is remarkable for the fine profile of St. Justina, who kneels on the pedestal of the Virgin’s throne, looking upward with ardent devotion. The other is the Pietà of the Turin Gallery, a work which has lost the richness of its colouring from subsequent restoration, but still retains much of its former excellence. The leading features are the same as those of the larger Parma “Deposition.” The dead Christ lies in the Virgin’s arms supported by the Magdalen and St. John. Behind them Nicodemus raises his hands with a sorrowing gesture, and a monk stands with a lily in his hand, while tall palm-trees in the background spread their fan-like branches against the western skies. There is the same majesty of repose in the dead Christ, the same expression of piteous sorrow on the Virgin’s face, which we expect in a Pietà by Francia. It was the old conception of earlier days, which had lost none of its force in declining years, but was still present as vividly as ever to his mind.
The following year is rendered memorable by a last communication which took place between Raphael and Francia. The great painter had finished his famous altar-piece of St. Cecilia for the chapel, which a noble Bolognese lady, the Beata Elena Duglioli, had erected in the church of San Giovanni del Monte, and wrote to Francia, begging him as a friend whom he trusted implicitly, to repair any accident the picture might have suffered on the journey, and to make any correction which might appear to him advisable. The picture reached Bologna safely early in the year 1516. Francia, in accordance with his friend’s directions, placed it above the altar in the chapel for which it was destined. The Bolognese hailed the appearance of Raphael’s masterpiece with enthusiastic acclamations, and we may well believe that Francia shared in their delight with the same generous appreciation which he had always shown for his friend’s genius. On the strength of these simple facts, the voice of slander founded the ridiculous story, which Vasari repeats, of Francia having died from the transport of jealous rage with which he was filled at the sight of Raphael’s masterpiece. The absurdity of the fabrication is evident when we remember the pictures which had been exchanged and the letters which had passed between the two masters, and is contrary to all we know of Francia’s character and natural disposition. Vasari himself seems to have felt some misgivings as to the truth of the story, for he proceeds to qualify his statement with the words “come alcuni credono” (as some believe), and adds that others say Francia died of poison.
Malvasia, in his zeal to vindicate the memory of Francia, endeavours to prove that the Bolognese master lived till 1522, but the real date of his death has been finally proved by the discovery of three separate notices in contemporary chronicles, which all record the fact that Francesco Francia, that most excellent goldsmith and painter, died on the 5th of January, 1517 (new style 1518). The illness which ended his life, and the grave where he lies, are both unknown, but it seems probable that he was buried in the cloister of the large church of San Francesco, a favourite place of sepulchre in his days, and which contains the tomb of his son Giacomo.
During the next thirty years his pupils continued to paint in Bologna, and maintained in some measure the honour of his name, but before the end of the century a new school, utterly different in aim and style, sprang up, and—in the sudden blaze of fame which encircled the names of the Carracci, Domenichino, and Guido—the works of the older masters were forgotten. Travellers who visited Bologna in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were attracted solely by the creations of the Eclectic school, and returned home without being even aware of Francia’s existence. M. Rio points out a striking proof of the neglect into which his works had fallen, in the curious fact that among all the pictures which the French invaders carried back to Paris not a single piece was by Francia.
With the revival of a better taste the great master of the old school of Bologna soon received just recognition, and his purity and gentleness will always appeal to a large class of sympathetic natures who are attracted by the charm of an art which is apparent to all.
If we consider the place which he holds in contemporary art we shall see how little he had in common with the spirit of his age, and how much of his aspirations and sympathies belonged to the old world of the earlier religious painters. Living as he did in the days of Raphael, at a moment when the Renaissance was fast hastening to its culminating point, Francia took no share in the great movement that was swaying forward at every point, but stood apart in a sphere of his own. In an age when revived Paganism had penetrated into every part of society, and the love of the antique was the ruling impulse of intellectual thought, he scarcely shows a trace of this influence, and derives his inspiration exclusively from Christian sources. He paints Lucrezia dying with the ecstatic smile of a martyred saint on her lips, and designs classical figures only to give them the yearning expression of religious emotion.
But in this realm of mystic art it must be owned that he takes the highest place. That fine saying of Raphael, when he declared that no other Madonnas were as beautiful or as religious as those which Francia painted, was no empty compliment. Since those days many have felt the truth of his words, and have confirmed his judgment. For to the earnestness and purity of Fra Angelico’s conceptions Francia brought a mastery of resources which had been lacking to those older painters. His creations are animated with a warmer humanity and a more vigorous life, they have all the charm of glowing colours and strongly contrasted light and shadow, while secular influences are allowed a larger part in the rich ornament and noble architecture which surround them.
Thus Francia shares with Perugino the praise of having combined the technical perfection of a later age with the Christian motives which had so largely influenced the first efforts of Italian art. But, unlike Perugino, the religious feeling which formed the secret of Francia’s inspiration remained fresh and strong within his breast to the end of his life, and was with him still a real and living power, when it had sunk into conventionalism and affectation in the later works of the Umbrian master, and was rapidly yielding to the growing influences of a worldly age in the creations of Raphael.
Slowly but surely men’s thoughts and their ideals of life had undergone a complete change, and the art of Italy was entering on a new phase in which there was no longer room for the rapture of Fra Angelico’s faces, or the sweet gentleness of the Madonnas who haunted Francia’s dreams.