wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
The painting represents an episode in Belisaire, a novel by Jean-François Marmontel, published in 1767. The novel is based on the legend of Belisarius, the Byzantine general (about 505--565) who according to this account was blinded and unjustly impoverished by the Roman emperor Justinian. Marmontel’s novel was widely seen at the time as a condemnation of the unjust execution in 1766 of the French general Lally-Tollendal for the French defeat in India. During the years 1767--1800 a total of 13 paintings and sculptures based on the Belisarius legend were exhibited at the Salon.

Unlike most images of the story, which show Belisarius begging in the streets outside Rome, this painting by Peyron depicts the episode when Belisarius is given hospitality at the home of a peasant who recognises the hero fallen on hard times. The two women of the family place their infants on his knee to give him thanks and receive his blessing.

Peyron gives Belisarius a more active role than in the usual depictions that show him as passively receiving alms. He seems to have intended the elderly hero to be regarded with admiration rather than with pity. Seated on a throne-like but plain chair, Belisarius is Marmontel’s model of the virtuous king who rejects luxury in favour of a life of modest simplicity.

Peyron includes the peasant’s son, who once served under Belisarius, at the left. The son’s importance in the story is emphasised by the arch above his head and the lines of the architecture, which intersect just to the left of it. The sharply contrasting red and green of his costume stands out from the more muted colours worn by the other figures. He looks away from his wife and his infant child as he contemplates his former general, his shadowed face contrasting with Belisarius's strongly lit face. He raises his arm, concealed by his cloak, perhaps to swear an oath of vengeance for the unfair treatment of Belisarius.

Peyron uses light and shade and different spaces within the picture to underline the emotional conflict and to contrast the tender scene on the right with the barely contained rage on the left. Jacques-Louis David had used a similar compositional technique in his famous Oath of the Horatii of 1784 and in his Lictors bringing Brutus the Bodies of his Sons of 1789 (both in the Louvre, Paris).

This picture is the modello (finished sketch) for the painting of the same subject now in the Musée des Augustins in Toulouse. The painting, like its pendant, Cornelia Mother of the Gracci (for which we also have the modello), was commissioned by the abbé François de Pierre de Bernis. Both modelli were exhibited at the 1785 Salon. There are also two known drawings relating to the composition (Albertina, Vienna, and Louvre, Paris), which show how Peyron evolved the picture by a series of small adjustments. The underdrawing shows typical characteristics of Peyron’s drawing style – for example his idiosyncratic approach to representing finger joints and knuckles.

Style: Neoclassical
The 12 small pictures in this group show the 'labours of the months' -- the activities that take place each month throughout the farming year. They were painted on canvas and then each glued to a wooden panel. It is possible that they were made to decorate the recessed panels of a pair of doors. The paintings seem to have been planned in pairs with the figures facing each other and are currently displayed in two frames in groups of six.

In this painting, which we think may represent July, a man threshes the grain from the corn husks and stalks of straw. He holds the corn on a wooden block and strikes it with his wooden flail. The weather is warm and the man is barefoot with no hat on his head. He is a little older than the labourers in the other pictures -- some streaks of grey appear in his beard. He kneels outside a small brick building with an overhanging roof supported on two posts. Perhaps it is the same building in which the elderly man in the representation of January sits.

At the foot of the blue mountains in the distance we see a fine villa, to which this farmland perhaps belongs.

Style: High Renaissance
The Virgin Mary gazes to her right, her hands folded in prayer. She is richly dressed: her mantle is edged with delicate gold embroidery dotted with pearls, and her blue underdress is lined with brown fur. On her head is a circlet of three strands of pearls held with a jewelled catch, and a transparent veil woven of very fine threads.

This is the right wing of a small diptych; Christ is the left wing. It was not originally painted to go with Christ, but was adapted very early on -- it was perhaps part of Massys' stock and was cut down to match the other panel while still in the workshop.

The Virgin here is more composed than she appears in the very popular diptychs that showed her as the Mater Dolorosa facing Christ as the 'Man of Sorrows', produced in the workshops of Dirk Bouts and Albrecht Bouts. She is more in the tradition of the Virgin in Hubert and Jan van Eyck's Ghent Altarpiece (St Bavo's Cathedral, Ghent) and its imitators.

Style: High Renaissance
In the shade of a steep cliff, a woman and a child wade in the shallow water of a ford. She looks down at the little boy as he takes a pee in the river. Perhaps they have had a long hot journey on the mule, its saddle made of wood, hard and unyielding. The animals wait patiently or lean down to drink. A sheep -- its wool painted with Karel Dujardin’s usual attention to realistic texture -- is visible through the mule’s legs.

The figure of the woman is unlike many of Dujardin’s Italian peasant women. They are usually neatly and cleanly dressed, with an open necked shirt under a tight bodice (look at A Woman with Cattle and Sheep in an Italian Landscape or Farm Animals with a Boy and a Herdswoman). She has loosened her garments to enjoy the sun and holds up her skirt to keep it out of the water, carefree and relaxed for a few minutes -- although she hasn’t forgotten the child who looks up at her.

Images of little nude boys were unremarkable in the seventeenth century -- and quite often they were relieving themselves. Most famous perhaps is the Manneken Pis fountain in Brussels, which features a perky two or three year old. The difference in this picture is the age of the boy. He seems to be much older, perhaps eight or nine, his limbs strong compared with the chubby legs of a toddler.

Dujardin’s picture has a pastoral theme. This was much appreciated and sought after by Dutch collectors, bringing idealised images of rural life into their busy, crowded city lives. The cliffs behind are rocky and inhospitable but the water is cool and refreshing -- the dusty path behind the group is already forgotten. Dujardin shows a charming, gently funny moment in rural life -- but an Italian rather than a Dutch life.

Dujardin concentrated on landscapes but also painted portraits, allegorical subjects and biblical scenes (such as The Conversion of Saint Paul). But he seems in his element with his rural scenes, portraying the Roman Campagna (the countryside round Rome) as an idyllic setting for rural life. We aren't sure whether he went to Italy in his formative years, but he knew the work of other artists who had spent time there and used their sketches and paintings as the basis for his interpretation of the landscape. In this picture, he marries the rough terrain of the Italian mountains with the clear, bright blue skies and puffy clouds of the Netherlands, and echoes the light catching the heads of the woman and child with the sun catching the rocks above them.

Style: Baroque
This bearded cardinal once stood at the left side of a small altarpiece that Crivelli painted for a side chapel in the church of San Domenico, in Ascoli Piceno, in the Italian Marche. In a vivid contrast to the contained violence of the combat between Michael and the Devil, Saint Jerome appears lost in contemplation, gazing down at the small brick church he holds in his left hand.

Jerome's face is in shadow but his long white beard, crow's feet of wrinkles and deeply tanned face suggest the rigour of the outdoor life of this venerable hermit. In his right hand he holds a bound book of the Bible, which he had translated into Latin; golden rays emanating from the church's door and window stand for the light his works cast on Church doctrine. To show off his skill at foreshortening, Crivelli has shown the book sideways on, so that we see its gilded fore-edges and the clasp which holds it closed, while its sides recede at a sharp angle. The artist's interest in textiles is evident in the watered silk lining of Jerome's hood, the creases of his white gloves and the tassels which hang from his hat.

The rich red of his cardinal's robes forms a striking contrast to the glittering damask of the gilded background behind him. The robes fall in weighty folds around his feet and over the edge of the marble parapet on which he stands, linking his space with ours. In a detail typical of Crivelli, Jerome's toe peeps out from his robes and turns up slightly so we can see the sole of his shoe (compare this to an earlier fifteenth-century work, Saints Jerome and John the Baptist). At his feet, a lion sits on the edge of his robes, gazing up in trusting expectation and raising its paw, which is pierced by a long thorn. According to legend, Jerome pulled a thorn out the paw of a lion which he  met in the desert, and which remained his faithful companion till his death. The lion is startlingly accurate, and seems to have been drawn from life. Lions were kept in menageries by princes and cities in medieval Italy, and Crivelli may well have seen and sketched one, perhaps into a model book such as we know were used by other fifteenth-century artists.

Jerome could either have had a particular meaning for the commissioner of the San Domenico altarpiece, perhaps as a name-saint, or he might simply have been included as a defender of the Catholic faith against heresy, one of the Dominican Order's prime concerns. The contrast between the elaborate decoration of the gilded background, and the flat burnished gold and raised pastiglia of the saint's halo must have acted like a spotlight, drawing attention to Jerome's face in the candlelight of a medieval church.

Style: Early Renaissance
This is one of three portraits of the Emperor Napoleon painted by Vernet in 1815--16 for Charles Kinnaird, 8th Lord Kinnaird of Inchture, an art collector who had been a Member of Parliament and an elected representative peer for Scotland.

Napoleon declared himself Emperor of the French in 1804 and reigned until 1814 and again, briefly, in 1815. In 1814 Vernet had received the Légion d'Honneur from Napoleon for his role in the defence of Paris, and he remained a fervent and lifelong admirer of the Emperor. During the Restoration, which followed Napoleon’s abdication and exile to St Helena, Vernet's studio became a meeting place for fellow admirers of the former Emperor. When the duc d’Orléans commissioned four battle scenes from Vernet in 1819, it was Vernet himself who suggested the group include the battles of Hannau and Montmirail, two of Napoleon’s final military victories.

This portrait may be based on a sketch made from life by the artist in 1812. Napoleon is wearing the cross and plaque of the Légion d'Honneur and the cross of the Order of the Iron Crown -- both orders he had founded. Although this is a formal portrait that presents Napoleon in his uniform and medals, Vernet offers a sympathetic image of the Emperor, which emphasises the man rather than imperial glory.

Style: Romantic
A group of six men and nine women stand at the foot of a hill at the bottom of a steep rocky path. Some of them clasp their hands in prayer and look towards the summit of the hill, while others face in other directions. The men are divided from the women, as was usual at the time. One of the men has removed his hat in reverence and it hangs from the tips of his fingers. They wear a range of luxurious contemporary costumes and at least one of the women appears to be dressed as a nun.

The range of ages and similarities of appearance suggest that these are all members of one family. They have traditionally been identified as the Giusti family of Verona, although none of the family can be identified by comparison with other portraits. The Giusti were a wealthy noble family with a fine palace in Verona set in celebrated gardens, which can still be visited today.

This fragment was originally the bottom of an altarpiece, possibly by Antonio da Vendri, which was probably in the church of S. Maria in Stelle, just outside the city of Verona. The upper part apparently showed the Virgin and Child with saints, and the family members were originally looking up at them. The men stand on the Virgin and Child's right-hand side, in the position of honour. Another fragment in Verona shows Saints Sebastian and Roch, who were frequently called upon in times of plague. It is likely that they also stood on the summit of the hill, flanking the Virgin and Child.

A plague in 1511--12 killed 13,000 inhabitants of Verona, and this altarpiece may have been commissioned in thanks for the family’s survival. It may also commemorate family members who died. This may explain why some of the figures are facing towards the Virgin and Child giving thanks, while others are facing outwards towards us. The altarpiece for S. Maria della Scala in Verona painted by Gerolamo dai Libri and Paolo Morando in 1518, also in the National Gallery’s collection, includes the Virgin and Child with Saints Sebastian and Roch, and was also commissioned in response to this devastating outbreak of plague in Verona.

Situated between Mantua, Padua, Venice and Milan, the city of Verona was at the crossroads of artistic influences and this is evident in the works produced there. The focus on naturalistic detail inspired by Northern European artists is combined with the rich colour of Venetian art and the sculptural style of Paduan painting derived from works by Mantegna.

Style: High Renaissance
It is low tide in the early morning and fishermen unload their catch from a boat beached high and dry on the shore. Some people enjoy a meal. Others prepare the catch for sale. This human activity contrasts with the stillness of the glassy sea which, like a mirror, reflects the hazy sunlight. The silvery-white sheen of the water complements the gold-tinted clouds. The pale yellow sun is not yet hot enough to burn off the sea mist – the ‘vapour’ referred to in the picture’s title – which gives the large warships in the background an almost ghostly aura. On the horizon (centre right), you can just see a faint plume of smoke as a ship fires a morning gun.

A drawing inscribed ‘Study / Calm’ in his ‘Calais Pier’ sketchbook of about 1802--5 shows that Turner settled on the painting's theme and composition early on. A 'calm' (a smooth sea) was a favourite subject in Dutch marine painting -- for example, van de Velde's Dutch Ships in a Calm, also in the National Gallery's collection. As a study of a calm, Turner's painting was a departure from the wild storms of his earlier marine pictures such as Calais Pier. Instead of combining dramatic action with a dynamic handling of paint, Turner used rich colours laid down as finely painted surfaces to create a tranquil, even slightly elegiac, mood. This ability to paint the sea in contrasting states further consolidated his reputation as primarily a 'great sea-painter'. The emphatic focus on the sun as the source of light is a feature of several of Turner's compositions, but here he also adds incidental details such as the objects on the beach, including an anchor, driftwood and stranded marine life.

The work of Dutch painters, including Aelbert Cuyp and Willem van de Velde, is also evoked by the boats and figures -- an influence acknowledged by the picture’s later title, Dutch Boats, when it was exhibited in Turner’s own gallery in 1810. Some of the figures, especially, resemble those painted by David Teniers the Younger, particularly the hunched figure wearing a red Flemish cap seen from behind. Such details imply that Turner intended to suggest a Dutch setting, but not necessarily a specific location. As one contemporary noted, Holland’s North Sea coast faced west, so it would not have been possible to see a sunrise over the open sea from the mainland.

Turner himself had great affection for the painting. It was bought by Sir John Leicester, one of his major patrons, but when Sir John's estate was sold at auction upon his death in 1827 Turner bought it back for a higher price. In his second will, made in 1831, Turner specified that the picture, together with his Dido building Carthage, should hang 'in perpetuity' in the newly built National Gallery alongside Claude's A Seaport and Landscape with the Marriage of Isaac and Rebekah. Turner revisited the subject when, around 1809, he painted a smaller modified version, Sun rising through Vapour, which is now in the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, Birmingham.

Style: Romantic, Georgian
The Virgin Mary sits on a very broad wooden throne with the infant Christ. He stands partly on her thigh and partly on the throne's seat holding bunches of cherries, symbolising the fruit of paradise. Saint Joseph leans on the arm of the throne, which is covered with an orange cloth, and offers Christ the cherries.

Saint Nicholas of Tolentino (1245--1305) is kneeling beside the Virgin with one hand on his heart and the other clutching a lily -- symbolic of his virginity -- and a small Crucifix. He was an Augustinian friar who was based in Tolentino for the last 30 years of his life. He ministered to the needy, converted sinners and became a very famous preacher. He has a radiant sun with the face of a cherub on his chest, which is a reference to a miraculous star that appeared several times at the door of his cell towards the end of his life. The presence of Saint Nicholas makes it likely that this picture was commissioned by a member of an Augustinian community in or near Ferrara. The holy figures have distinctive haloes that, like other parts of the painting, are executed using shell gold, forming tiny gold lines typical of Mazzolino. These can also be seen in his Holy Family with Saints Elizabeth, Francis and John the Baptist and Nativity with a Shepherd.

Two angels lean on the other arm of the throne, while above God the Father and the dove of the Holy Ghost descend on a cloud and a burst of light to bless the holy family. The arches of the architecture behind God seem to spring from his hands, reinforcing his gesture. Above the classical architecture behind the throne, a host of angels make music with a lute, harp and organ. The pyramidal composition of the holy family group is reinforced by the diagonal openings of the orange cloth covering the sides of the throne. The lines of the architecture and the wings of the angels above form another, inverted, triangle. At the intersection of these two triangles, the dove of the Holy Ghost is central and pivotal to the entire composition.

The pale stone architecture is covered in low relief decorations in antique style. Mazzolino frequently depicted such classical friezes and ornaments in the backgrounds of his paintings -- a similar example can be seen in his Holy Family with Saints Elizabeth, Francis and John the Baptist. He may have based these on drawings after engraved objects, coins, antique sarcophagi fronts and triumphal arches that he kept in his studio. This would explain why identical motifs recur in different pictures.  A fallen horse with a riding soldier next to it in the central frieze here also appears in the frieze of Christ disputing with the Doctors in the Temple. The subjects of the friezes do not seem to relate to the religious subjects of Mazzolino's paintings. Mazzolino also reused the sacred figures from his paintings in other works, often in reverse, which suggests that he was working from a pattern book.

Style: High Renaissance
This grisaille work (painted in shades of black, white and grey) is a copy of a picture by Jan Steen known as 'Old Wooer, Young Maid'. It's a more appropriate title, emphasising that the man is probably making advances to the younger of the two women, who turns towards him.

The flute protruding from the man’s pocket suggests he is an itinerant musician, but it may also have phallic overtones. The discarded mussel shells on the floor may have been understood as suggestive of female sexuality. If not a brothel, the setting is certainly a tavern, and women drinking in such places would often have been involved in prostitution. But, as is typical in Steen’s pictures, there's a high degree of amusement on the faces of those depicted.

The painting was probably made by (or for) Samuel de Wilde (1748--1832) in preparation for his print after Steen's original.

Style: Neoclassical
Dutch painters in the seventeenth century tended to specialise in particular genres, and even subgenres, concentrating on a certain type of scene or style that they knew would allow them to make a living professionally. Hobbema found his niche within landscape painting, perfecting a vision of picturesque woodland scenes based on countryside near his home town of Amsterdam.

They are often based around the same compositional structure. For example, in five of the nine Hobbema paintings owned by the National Gallery, the artist has used the device of a winding road or track leading the eye from the foreground into the woodland glades beyond. His skies -- like this one, filled with billowing, white and grey cumulus clouds -- are also a trademark of this work.

Hobbema’s pictures present a positive, even idealised, evocation of carefree country life where the trees are always heavy with summer leaf, the tracks are dry and there is little more than a gentle breeze in the air. It was a vision which appealed to his clients, but which didn’t necessarily reflect the realities of living in this environment. The figures we see in this landscape are not hard at work trying to make a living -- as they would have had to do for much of the time. Or if they are, they are going about it in a very relaxed fashion. A fisherman sits quietly in the dappled sunshine on the bank of the pond on the left. A woman stands idly in the cottage doorway while a man ambles past holding the hand of a child. Meanwhile another man, accompanied by his dog, strolls towards us, a pole over his shoulder.

Despite this carefree mood, merging into the woodland undergrowth there are some subtle indicators of a more active human interaction with the landscape. The hurdle fence in the left foreground has been almost overgrown by the bushes which surround it. The blue-green leaves of the willow pollards -- which may have provided the switches for those hurdles -- form a parallel line of colour on the other side of the pond (its water almost invisible in the heavy shadow of the oak tree). And the broad staves of a picket fence line the boundary of the cottage garden. These are a distant reminder that woodland of this kind was not, in reality, a backdrop to an idyllic pastoral life, but an important economic resource, a place to graze animals and harvest timber, the most important construction material of the time.

Though the overwhelming atmosphere of the painting is one of a peaceful summer’s day, there are also subtle hints of the more destructive side to nature. The stump of a rotten tree in the left foreground has obviously been fractured relatively recently, presumably by a gale -- the edges of the fracture are still bright and fresh. Perhaps the broken branches scattered across the cart track came from this. It can’t be long since they fell as they are lying across wheel ruts -- clearly no cart has passed this way since the branches came down.

Another version of this composition (Kunsthaus Zürich) is dated 1665; the National Gallery's picture was probably painted shortly before.

Style: Baroque