Elizabeth Hardwick
LIVING IN ITALY:
REFLECTIONS ON BERNARD BERENSON
In the rather meek, official narration of the life of Mrs.
Jack Gardner, I came across an arresting photograph of Bernard
Berenson as a young man, a student at Haxvard. Here among the
illustrations relating to the subject of the biography (Mr. and Mrs.
Gardner with Mr. and Mrs. Zorn in Venice; the Gothic Room at
the Gardner Museum, etc.), among the details of ancestry, the
accounts of endless journeys and evening parties, of
purch~es
and
decisions, courageous endurance and interesting self-indulgence,
the passionate, young face of Berenson gazed out serenely, a dream–
ing animal caught in the dense jungle growth of a rich, lively
woman's caprice and accomplishment. This early photograph is a
profile, as fine and pleasing as a young girl's; the hair, worn long,
curls lightly, falling into layers of waves; there is a perfect, young
man's nose, a pure, musing, brown-lashed eye, fortunate long,
strong bones of chin and jaw. The collar of the young man's jacket
is braided with silk and he looks like an Italian prodigy of the
violin, romantically, ideally seen, finely designed, a gifted soul,
already suitable to court circles.
We spent the winter of 1950 in Florence and used to go out to
see Berenson, as so many had gone before and would go afterward.
This unusual man was maxvelously vivacious and, in more than
one respect, actually inspiring; and yet I would always leave him,
somewhat troubled, ungratefully adding and subtracting, unable to
come to a decision about him or
his
life. He was not what I had
expected, but I despaired of having an original, fresh or even an
honest opinion about him. He was too old, had been viewed and
