Modelling a Pope

New Zealand Tablet, Volume L, Issue 21, 31 May 1923, Page 21

Modelling a Pope

Excited artistsmore than three hundred and fifty, all told—were clamoring for opportunities to paint or* model the new' Pope, when Leon Gogne, famous for his busts of Joffre, Foch, Lyautey, and Nivelle, made application last Bummer (says the Literary Digest). Perhaps because his genius for portraiture was well known at the Vatican, M. Cogne contrived to meet Monsignor Pizzardo, who seems to make it his business to defend Pius XI. against artists, but who, nevertheless, promised to let M. Cogne see the Sovereign Pontiff for ten minutes. Telling the story in L Illustration, Cogne remarks that portrait busts are not made in ten minues, and he intimated as much to Pizzardo, explaining that it would be necessary to take measurements. Pizzardo was horrified. In the sculptor’s own words “He wouldn’t let me finish what I was trying to say, but exclaimed indignantly: ‘Measurements! What are you thinking of? You don’t mean to tell me that you intend to go over the Holy Father with a pair of compasses! It’s not to he considered for a momentyou would offend him outrageously.’ Under this torrent of expostulation, I backed down, agreeing to content myself with sketches and to stay only ten minutes. “With a consoling smile, Monsignor Pizzardo said, ‘ Well, when you meet his Holiness, you’ll see what can be done. Perhaps—’ “Leaving the sentence unfinished, he shook hands and walked away, his cloak of light silk flapping in the wind. “Then, very softly, I stole hack down the stairs. I was to see the Pope—to-day!— at five o’clock! I could hardly believe it. For ten days, I had been trying, but invariably some secretary or other would declare, I So far, 352 artists from all parts of the world have asked permission to do a portrait of his Holiness. At best you can only claim to he the 353rd. The Holy Father is too busy. No one will pay any attention to your letters of introduction. However, here’s an admission card to a collective audience to-day.’ And away I would go, humiliated. Whereas now!” As the appointed hour approached, Cogne, armed with a camera and his portfolio of sketches, was piloted through the Vatican by a papal majordomo, and a quite natural bewilderment came upon him as he neared the room where he was to meet the Sovereign Pontiff: “What was I expected to do when I saw him? Kneel down? Speak to him? The majordomo indicated a genuflexion and, bending my head forward, showed me the posture I was to take. Again the door opened, this time revealing a room that appeared to me simply enormous. It seemed that it was a library. It was partly masked by a'great, screen, but I thought I could see bookshelves. Suddenly, right before me. I beheld the Holy Father, lie advanced slowly, wearing a- white robe, while his head was crowned with a white skull-cap. His half-closed eyes peered out through thick , glasses. “I knelt. There came a mist before my gaze. I heard the Latin words that accompany a benediction. Then I rose, and my confusion ended. Before me stood only a magestic model, who' spoke in a benevolent tone.. His voice is warm and grave. He expresses himself in faultless French. “The tripod of my camera slipped on the floor and I could not make it stand. I felt the Holy Father’s eyes fixed upon me. Forgetting ceremony. I spoke out, begging to be excused for my awkwardness. He said gently, ‘ Don’t worry. ■ Do your work without nervousness, or you will waste time.’ Did he intend to chide me for having already wasted time? Or was he encouraging me? His smile left no doubt. So I asked the Holy Father to repeat his gesture of benediction, as I intended to make a statue of him. , --p.k . “ ‘I couldn’t pose in that attitude without appearing stiff,’ he replied, ‘but I will bless you, and you can make the exposure at whatever moment you like.’ He blessed me twice, and each time I took a picture. Then he asked, ‘ Is that all?’

“He had already risen. I answered, ‘ No, Holy Father; if you will allow me, I would like to ask permission to take some measurements for -use when I make a bust of you.’ > -

He sat down again. I made several hasty sketches, and then, with a pair of compasses, took measurements, hurriedly jotting down the dimensions. He was immensely in crested, and said, ‘ Are you going to measure the circumference of my head? It’s sixty-six centimeters.’” While this was going on, the majordomo fumbled among ( ogne s drawings. There lie came"upon a photograph of a bust of Marshal Lyautey and handed it to the Pope. Bending over his shoulder, for he was seated, he waited to see flow It would impress him. Heading on—- “ ' Then Man of Morocco!’ he said. ‘ What an excellent bus ! on hare added a detail of the first importancethat cigarette between his fingers. He smokes all day and half the night, though his mind remains as splendidly clear as ever.’ J

•The majordomo showed him also the bust of the apostolic nuncio. ‘ How good that is of Cerretti»’ the Sovereign Pontiff said. ‘ And yet I think his smile is moaner when he isn’t posing.’ “All this was said slowly and simply. With my compasses I continued to take measurements. I sketched rapidly, but his face had a questioning look. This time I no longer dared to insist, and realised that I must stop. He rose. He glanced at my work. Kneeling, I saw the hem of lus white cassock, the violet slippers embroidered with green, the pendent acorns, the branch of little leaves enclosing a cross.

“The white cassock vanished. I lifted my head. Once more I saw the great library, with its magnificence, its carpets, its books, and I seemed to see kneeling figures in violet and in red.

“The audience had lasted-three-quarters of an hour. That evening I ate no dinner. In my hotel room, 1 feverishly developed my negatives, and dawn found me still drawing indefatigably and making proofs.” Monsieur Rigal, an old crony of Cogne’s, has a studio in Home, and there the sculptor began work on his portrait hirst of the Pope. After a day’s toil “V e looked at it. The head seemed to us enormous, yet it tallied exactly with the measurements. Standing beside me, Rigal begun sketching the bust and took several photographs of it.”

Aov to compare it with the model and make corrections. By appointment, Cogne, accompanied by Rigal—and the bust—went to the Vatican. There they waited outside the Pope’s private apartment for him to return from his daily drive in the Vatican gardens: ' ‘ A rumble of wheels, a clatter of hoofs, and up drove the black carriage. At the four doors, within the arcade appeared gendarmes with drawn sabers. The carriage, with its superb horses, crossed the court, Within it sat the Pope, in his white cassock, and next him was a personage wearing violet. A valet ran to open the carriage door, and the Holy Father, wearing .an immense violet hat, alighted. Accompanied by a body servant, he ascended the steps and disappeared. The gendarmes were on their knees, with heads bowed. Other men knelt at the four doors.

“We hurried in. Ahead went the red lackeys carrying the. bust, and we followed. Through innumerable rooms and endless corridors we went in procession until we came to the Throne Room, where I installed my bust. Monsignor Giuseppe, the Pope’s special attendant, received us. Slowly the red door opened, as on the day before, and his Holiness entered. I knelt and received his benediction. Imagine ray elation when I beheld the smile with, which he approvingly scanned the bust! Readjusting his spectacles, he looked at Rigal and his drawing and appeared far from surprised at finding a second artist.

“As the heat was oppressive, the attendant opened the windows, for the Pope seemed to feel the need of air. His Holiness sat down, took out his breviary, and read. “Rigal and I set to work. The only sound was that of crayon on paper, so silent were my, footsteps as I went back and forth between model and bust, constantly making corrections.

“Like the former one, this sitting lasted three-quarters of an hour. At the end of that time, the Holy Father stood up to look at our work, and we knew by bis beaming smile that he was pleased.

“The same ceremonial as before attended his withdrawal. We knelt and kissed his ring.”

When the bust was finished, all but the final retouching, Cogue and Rigal paid another visit to the Pope. Says the sculptor : . ‘ “We waited for the Holy Father in the little Throne Room. Before giving the bust t its . finishing touches, I looked again at my illustrious model. Still the same simplicity, still the symphony in white, the cassock of white flannel with little white buttons, the short cape covering a pair of broad shoulders, the high girdle. Around his neck he wore a gold chain, from whose boutonniere hung a superb cross of gold set with diamonds -and an amethyst. • “What strength in his face! The wide brow is almost without wrinkles. And what eyes! Clear and frank, they express great intelligence and great goodness. I recalled what Monsignor Cerrctti had said to me in my studio: ‘ You will find his Holiness kindness itself. Tie is a great scholar, knowing all languages. For forty years he has read everything. Often the stars would fade in the sky while he bent over his manuscripts.’ ” A product of photography, in part, and in part of exact measurement, Mr. Cogue’s portrait bust was a precise effigy. But was it more than that? Did it disclose the Pope’s character, his mentality, his temperament —in a word, his personality? What would the Pope himself say of it ? “When all was finished, the Pope rose and came to see the results of our labor. He nodded benevolently. Rigal and I wore on our knees, awaiting his benediction, but he did better —inscribed my work with bis own signature, Pont. Max. P.P. XI. That was his way of thanking me.”