Philip de Laszlo: Painting the Pope, Pt. 1

"Pope Leo XIII, ne Vincent Joachim Pecci"
by Philip de Laszlo

Early in 1900 the Hungarian Government commissioned Philip de Laszlo to paint the portrait of Pope Leo XIII, on the occasion of His Holiness's Silver Jubilee, for the Fine Arts Museum of Budapest. De Laszlo set out for Rome early in March and was presented to Cardinal Mariano Rampolla, the Papal Secretary of State. De Laszlo wrote: 'At once he began to discuss the portrait which I was to paint. He warned me not to tire His Holiness too much and told me that I must try to finish the picture in seven or eight sittings. 

The Pope entered for his first sitting, a bent, ascetic figure clad in a heavy ivory silk cassock, white shoes, a white cappelletto, and the crimson silk cloak which had come down from the Roman Emperors, with a simple cross suspended from a chain. I saw him first against a dark background but the effect was too obvious, and I decided to keep the picture white against a grey background, the only colour being the golden tassel, the crimson cloak and the dark red chair. The effect was one of dignity and calm, dominated by his restless, dark, penetrating eyes.

The second morning the Pope instinctively assumed the right pose. I had outlined the whole figure on the previous day, and knowing how valuable time was, I now concentrated entirely on the head. So intense was my concentration that I did not notice the passing of time, and after an hour and a half the Majordomo came forward and bowed, thus marking the end of the sitting.

This time, before retiring, the Pope suddenly stopped and said, 'May I look at the canvas?' He stood for a few moments almost motionless before the painting. Then he turned to me. 'You think, my dear son, that that is me?' he asked. I was completely taken aback. 'I hope so, Holy Father,' I managed to say. Pointing at the picture with his beautiful, thin, sinewed hand, his whole frame trembling with indignation, he said in a quavering voice, 'But, my dear son, that resembles Voltaire, and I detest that creature!'

Thus in the space of a few moments, I saw two very different aspects of Leo XIII. It was like a tempest after mild spring sunshine. He must have seen how deeply his remarks had perturbed me. With extraordinary rapidity his expression changed to tranquillity again. 'Can you change the position of the head, a little more towards the front?'

'That is very difficult, Holy Father, but with your gracious permission, I will begin another canvas,' I answered. This was a risky reply for me to make since I knew how precious the hours were. Never for a moment did I forget what this picture meant to my career. But at once he said in a kindly tone, 'Begin another canvas. Tomorrow at ten o'clock.' 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)