The History of Painting in Italy, Vol. 2 (of 6) From the Period of the Revival of the Fine Arts to the End of the Eighteenth Century — Background and Themes
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Luigi Lanzi opens his account of the Roman School by directly confronting a terminological dispute: whether the Roman School can claim the same coherent identity as the schools of Florence, Bologna, or Venice. He dismisses the objection as a mere quarrel over words, likening it to the peripatetic sophists' quibble over vis inertiae. His solution is pragmatic—substitute 'academy' for 'school' if the label offends—and he insists that the substance of artistic tradition matters more than nomenclature. This rhetorical move, grounded in analogy to philosophy, sets the tone for a history that values classification but refuses to let labels obscure the works themselves.
Lanzi’s Comparative Method: Painters as Orators
Lanzi frequently draws parallels between painting and the verbal arts. In defending Pietro da Cortona’s varied style, he invokes eloquence, poetry, and history, noting that Demosthenes and Isocrates, Sophocles and Euripides, Thucydides and Xenophon are all esteemed despite their dissimilarity. This comparison is not a casual flourish; it reveals Lanzi’s conviction that stylistic diversity within a school is a strength, not a flaw. He applies the same logic to painters, arguing that a viewer should not object to variety in the fine arts any more than a reader would reject different rhetorical modes. By framing artistic judgment through literary analogies, Lanzi elevates painting to a liberal art and provides a critical vocabulary that prioritizes effect over rigid rules.
The Shifting Geography of Artistic Identity
Lanzi’s treatment of Pietro da Cortona exemplifies his nuanced view of school affiliation. Though born in Tuscany and sometimes placed in the Florentine school, Pietro came to Rome at fourteen and formed his mature style there. Lanzi notes that he brought from Tuscany little more than a “well-disposed genius,” and in Rome he became an excellent architect and the head of a school distinguished by a free and vigorous manner. This careful parsing of influence versus birthplace shows Lanzi’s attention to the actual formation of artists rather than relying solely on origin. He similarly tracks Veronese artists Ottini, Bassetti, and Turchi who studied in Rome, noting which returned home and which left works or disciples. The result is a map of artistic migration that complicates any simple regional label.
Descriptive Precision in Cataloguing Works
When Lanzi describes specific paintings, he does so with an eye to scale, composition, and the conditions of viewing. Of Pietro da Cortona’s frescoes, he directs the reader to the Sala Barberina for large compositions, but notes that the Palazzo Pitti presents works “more elegant, more beautiful, and more studied in parts.” For altarpieces, he singles out the Conversion of S. Paul at the Capucins, placed opposite Guido’s S. Michael, and remarks that it is admired by those who accept variety of style. He also notes where works are located—S. Ivo at the Sapienza, S. Charles at Catinari—and occasionally comments on accessibility, as when he observes that Pietro’s historical subjects are not met with in galleries of the Roman nobility but are found in the Campidoglio or in private collections like that of Duke Mattei. This geographical and institutional specificity gives the reader a concrete sense of where and how these paintings functioned.
The Role of Foreign Artists in the Roman School
Lanzi’s narrative repeatedly acknowledges artists who were not native Romans but contributed to the school’s vitality. He mentions three Veronese—Ottini, Bassetti, and Turchi—who studied in Rome. Ottini returned home without executing any public work; Bassetti left two frescoes in the church dell’Anima; Turchi, known as Orbetto, resided and died in Rome, though he worked more in Verona and left no notable disciples in the capital. Lanzi’s even-handed treatment of these figures, noting both their achievements and their limited local impact, reflects his broader method: he neither inflates nor dismisses their importance. Instead, he traces the actual circulation of artists and styles, showing how the Roman School was sustained by a constant influx of talent from other regions, even as its core identity remained contested.
Lanzi’s history rewards readers who attend to his authorial choices: the analogies to literature, the careful tracking of artists’ movements, and the precise descriptions of works in situ. Rather than a simple chronicle, this volume offers a model of art-historical reasoning that balances classification with flexibility. Readers interested in how a scholar of the early nineteenth century constructed a school’s identity will find here a work as much about method as about paintings.
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