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That said, there are paintings here of such a singular and pure beauty as to take the breath away and inspire the soul with high imaginings. The exhibition focuses on Leonardo’s time as court painter in Milan in the 1480s and 1490s, and begins quietly enough in Room 1 with his ‘Portrait of a Young Man (The Musician)’, painted in oil on walnut panel. Some will find this unfinished picture compelling, and it certainly knocks spots off the only other painting in this room — Giovanni Boltraffio’s lacklustre portrait of a similar subject from a few years later. If you compare the two, the superiority of Leonardo’s work is readily apparent, in its intensity and clarity: in the sheer presence of the sitter. Boltraffio has tried to follow the master, but succeeds only in highlighting the unreality of his sitter, as against Leonardo’s gentle and apparently effortless naturalism. Here, too, is a fine drawing by Francesco Galli, once attributed to Leonardo, but now given to another of his pupils.
This is an exhibition which in the sparseness of its hang would no doubt have delighted the heart of the late David Sylvester, whose preferred density of hanging was one painting per room. The National Gallery has not reduced its exhibit list quite so drastically, but there is certainly plenty of space between the pictures. In Room 2 comes one of the highlights of the exhibition: ‘The Lady with the Ermine’, usually in the National Museum, Cracow. This earthly yet unearthly portrait — and this, surely, is Leonardo’s greatest achievement: to be able to convey a sense of everlasting beauty behind the living, breathing realism of which he was so great a master — is a marvel, and for me justifies on its own the cost of admission.
‘The Lady with the Ermine’ is a portrait of Cecilia Gallerani, youthful mistress to Milan’s ruler, Ludovico Maria Sforza, known as il Moro or the Moor on account of his swarthy complexion, and it is a painting of the most exquisite harmony. A very different mood is captured in another portrait of a woman, hung to the left of Gallerani, a painting known as ‘La Belle Ferronnière’, altogether darker in spirit, despite the striking light effects on her neck and cheek. Here is experience against the innocence of Gallerani, differently intriguing and arresting. On the right wall is a group of drawings, including the famous study of hands from the Queen’s Collection and the studies of a dog’s paw from Edinburgh. Also here is the roundel from the Fitzwilliam of the ermine as symbol of purity and moderation about to be clubbed to death.
In Room 3 is a very unfinished painting of ‘Saint Jerome’ by Leonardo, more like an anatomical sketch than a portrait, but presumably intended (when complete) to be a study of passionate penitence. Inevitably, we are reminded of Leonardo the scientist, the explorer of the body’s mechanics. Nearby hang drawings of écorché, or flayed, body parts and studies of the nervous system. There’s also a very beautiful drawing of a kneeling angel, from the British Museum. Room 4 is the main gallery and it contains another of the main attractions of this exhibition — the two versions (both by Leonardo) of ‘The Virgin of the Rocks’. The Louvre’s painting is locked in a big glass wall case in prime position on the end wall, while the NG’s own version is placed at the opposite end of the room. Thus all chance of properly comparing the two paintings is lost, although this would have been possible if they had been hung side by side. As it is, you have to stand in the middle of the room and squint, or trudge the length of the gallery trying to hold the details of one in the mind’s eye to compare with the other.
Perhaps the authorities at the Louvre didn’t want the pictures hung next to each other as the French painting would lose a lot of its mystery by such contiguity. The NG’s painting has been cleaned and appears sharper and clearer and more (appropriately) otherworldly. By contrast, the golden fog of dirt that thralls the Louvre’s painting adds a specious emotional warmth and timbre. Some will undoubtedly prefer it, though I am much more taken by the English picture with its blue depths. But it is a rare and remarkable experience to see both paintings in the same room, particularly with a wall of superb drawings between them. There are several beauties in red chalk, and others in metalpoint, such as the head of the infant John the Baptist. A crowded sheet of ink studies of the Virgin and Child (and others) contrasts with a stupendous drawing of a rocky ravine and the drapery study for an angel.
You may wish to linger in this room for the show is nearly over. Room 5 contains a beautiful metalpoint drawing of a woman’s head, and another Leonardo painting, ‘The Madonna Litta’ from St Petersburg. The Virgin’s robes in this picture are of the most unearthly and mysterious blue, which contributes the spiritual element of the painting, rather than the slightly sly look in the Child’s eye or the evident devotion of the Mother. The last room is dominated by the big cartoon of the Virgin and Child with Saint Anne. Here also hangs the recently re-emerged ‘Christ as Salvator Mundi’ which I confess leaves me underwhelmed.
It’s a remarkable achievement to have brought these paintings together, and the curators deserve every credit, though not perhaps the hyperbole that surrounds the show. I hope no one has bought a ticket expecting to see rooms full of Leonardo’s paintings and the Mona Lisa enshrined in all its glory, though it wouldn’t surprise me if some had such high hopes, inflated by the hot breath of PR.
Leonardo da Vinci: Painter at the Court of Milan (sponsored by Credit Suisse) is at the National Gallery until 5 February. All advance tickets are now sold out but a limited number of tickets are available on the day. Ticket sales and exhibition entrance open at 10 a.m.
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