externally, and quite _sui generis_; for though in classing it you must
put it with the Italian Gothic, already described, yet the style of
ornament is very different from any that we observe elsewhere. The
erection of this noble pile appears to have been decreed by the
Florentine senate in 1294, and the building was commenced in 1298.
Florence was then, according to Machiavelli, in its greatest prosperity,
under a government essentially democratical, but which still left
considerable consequence and power to the nobility. It must be confessed
that these Italian citizens had magnificent ideas. The architect was
Arnolfo; and since the whole of the ground plan is certainly of his
design, it would be extremely interesting to ascertain how he intended
to cover the great octagonal space in the centre. Arnolfo died in 1330,
and Giotto was substituted in his place in 1334. I have an engraving
professing to give the façade, as it was first built, from the designs
of Arnolfo, _before that of Giotto_, but this can hardly be correct, as
we find that in 1342, the work was only raised just above the opening of
the doors; and we cannot suppose Giotto to have first erected Arnolfo’s
design, and then demolished it to apply one of his own; and it seems
certain that an elevation designed by Giotto, was really carried up to
above the arches over the doors.[39] This, however, was afterwards
pulled down, and a new front raised, from a model made under the
direction of the Academy of design in the city. This again was destroyed
in 1688, and despairing of a marble front, the wall was covered with a
smooth surface of stucco, and the architecture painted upon it. The
weather will save the Florentines the trouble of destroying this
invention, since it is now almost obliterated.
To return to the building. We have various, though imperfect notices of
its progress till 1407, when the whole edifice was completed as far as
the upper outside cornice of the nave; and it appears probable that both
the nave, and the three tribunes forming the remaining arms of the
cross, were vaulted and covered in. All this is said to be precisely
according to the design of Arnolfo; but from the similarity of the style
to that of the Campanile, we may imagine that Giotto had some hand in
the distribution of the coloured marbles which cover the brickwork of
the first part of the nave. The part behind the tribunes, from its
similarity to that of the baptistery, may be attributed to Arnolfo,
while between Giotto’s work and the front, there is a small portion of
later date. The difference of style in these parts is not so great as to
obtrude itself on a casual observer. Brunelleschi advised the
construction of the octangular drum under the dome, with the circular
windows, but whether this was his own design, or the continuation of
Arnolfo’s, has been disputed. Perhaps he only suggested some
alterations. In 1419 this work was completed, and Brunelleschi was again
consulted about the construction of the dome itself; but he had great
difficulties to encounter. A meeting of architects and master-builders
was called, by whom his plan seems to have been generally disapproved,
and even made a subject of ridicule. Perhaps this applies rather to the
mode of carrying it into execution, than to the design itself. Among
various schemes proposed, one was to bury some money in a vast mound of
earth, corresponding in size and shape, with the proposed edifice, to
erect the dome upon this mound, and afterwards, as the cheapest way of
removing the earth, to permit the populace to enter and dig for the
money. The building was under the care of the _workmen and consuls of
the woollen art_; or as we should say, the warden and assistants of the
clothworkers’ company; and they had the good sense and firmness to
appoint Brunelleschi the architect. The clamours raised against his
scheme, had, however, so much effect, that another artist was joined
with him in the commission. We form a very mean opinion of this
associate, when we learn that Brunelleschi feigned himself ill; and that
the incompetency of his companion thus becoming evident, the whole
direction was committed to him. This dome or cupola, if measured on the
angles, is somewhat larger than the Pantheon at Rome, and when measured
on the sides, not much less than that building, and wider than the dome
of St. Peter’s. It is confined at the springing by a chain formed of
wooden beams. The difficulty of construction is however, much lessened
by the solidity of the mass on which it stands, and from its being
carried up, in compliance with the disposition of the ground plan,
without the intervention of pendentives, or any contrivance of that
sort. It was begun in 1420, and finished in 1434; and in 1435, the
church was dedicated by Pope Eugenius the Fourth.
After what I have already said, you will not ask me for any criticism on
the front of this building; and in my observations on the appearance of
the sides, you will recollect that the work is not all finished,
particularly the upper part of the drum of the dome, where a parapet of
small arches has been commenced under the direction of Baccio d’Agnolo,
and not terminated. However, except in the façade, and in a few slight
deficiencies of this sort, the whole edifice is encrusted with red,
black, and white marbles, disposed in panels; some square-headed, and
some terminating in pointed arches. There is a good deal of Gothic
ornament about the lower windows and doors, and this is more apparent in
the part I have attributed to Giotto and his successors, than in that of
Arnolfo in the tribunes, where most of the arches are semicircular. The
windows of the clerestory and of the drum of the dome, are circular, and
without much ornament; but all the windows are small. You will not say
that this is in good taste, and it certainly cannot be praised for
purity of design. In fact the panelling does not agree with the arches,
or cornice; and neither of these, with the windows. Yet station yourself
at the south east angle, opposite the part which is most complete, and
you must acknowledge it a glorious and magnificent building; rich and
splendid in all its parts, and beautiful as a whole composition; and if
there be not perfect harmony in every particular, there is nothing
obtrusive or offensive; nothing which does not unite to the perfection
of the whole. The inside of the nave is more decidedly Gothic than the
out; it is very large, but not handsome, with wide arches upon low
piers; the width of these openings being twenty-eight _braccia_, each of
22,956 inches, _i. e._ 53 feet and a half English, which is also the
width of the nave, while the aisles are displeasingly narrow. The piers
are of brown stone, the walls and vaults whitewashed, and there is very
little ornament of any sort. There are no ridge-ribs in the vaulting,
and the ridges themselves are very much arched. An awkward gallery at
the springing of the vaulting cuts the lines, and hides the commencement
of the ribs. The arches are kept as usual by iron ties, the windows of
the clerestory are small and circular; those of the aisles long, narrow,
and pointed.
Braccia. Feet.
The internal length of the building is 257 491
The internal length of the transept 154 294
The internal length of the nave and side aisles 69 132
The internal length of the dome from side to side 72 138
The internal length of the dome from angle to
angle 78 149
Height of the nave 72½ 139
Height of the dome internally 138 262
Height of the building 202 463
The whole of the part about the dome, is well and firmly built; and the
exuberance of strength makes one conceive that Arnolfo intended
something great in the centre. The diameter of the octagon is
seventy-two braccia, which is somewhat greater than the width of the
three parts of the nave united. Four of the sides are of course open to
the four arms of the cross; two others open into the side aisles of the
nave, and the remaining two into the sacristy. The dome is painted
without any ribs or panels, or other architectural decoration; and in
spite of its size, its gloom, and its apparent solidity, the impression
is not sublime. As we usually see this building, the windows are shaded,
and the chief light is admitted from the doors. Nothing can be worse;
but we frequently find the private apartments in Florence lighted from
the lower part. The choir is a great octagonal inclosure, immediately
under the dome. This is also said to be by Brunelleschi, but it is very
ugly. There is hardly any thing to be admired, either in the sculpture
or painting of this church. It boasts indeed a work of Michael Angelo,
but unfinished, like most of his productions; and in so dark a place
that it is hardly possible to see it at any time. More interest arises
from the names of some great men who were buried here; Brunelleschi,
Giotto, Dante, the first who distinguished themselves in the
architecture, painting, and poetry, of modern Europe. How terms change
their signification in different places! Four hundred years gives a
monument a full claim to antiquity in England, but in Italy leaves it
quite modern; and I have heard of a gentleman, who, in a conversation
about Greek antiquities, was put in mind of the fortifications of
Messene, which are still nearly entire. ‘Oh,’ replied he, ‘but those are
modern, only of the age of Epaminondas.’ For these nations to boast of
their antiquity however, is just like an old man boasting of those years
which have robbed him of all his vigour, both of body and mind.
From the cathedral I will take you to the Campanile, which stands just
by, built entirely by Giotto; but if it was founded, as it is said to
have been, on the 8th of July, 1334, it could hardly have been completed
under his direction, since the latest account of his death fixes it in
1336, and Milizia places it in 1334. It is 25 braccia (47 feet 8 inches)
square on the plan, and 144 braccia (294 feet 7 inches) in height. The
building is encrusted with red, black, and white marbles, like the
cathedral, and like it, is of a peculiar architecture; for though the
openings are pointed, and have even a good deal of Gothic ornament, yet
the whole character of the building has hardly any thing in common with
the spiry, ascending form of that style, as we see it executed in France
and England. For what it is, it is well composed, but we feel the want
of any leading lines, the horizontal and perpendicular equally breaking
each other. An Italian at Paris lifted up his hands and shoulders, when
I praised the simplicity of design in the internal architecture of the
best Gothic edifices; but the Italians have no right to reproach the
northern artists with want of simplicity, since this never was the
character of any period of the art with them. The Romans perhaps, added
richness and magnificence to the Greek architecture, but they certainly,
by introducing complicated, and frequently ill-combining forms, injured
its simplicity; and if any thing like simplicity is found in some of the
early restorers of the Roman style, it was soon over, and never became
the national characteristic. Michael Angelo, Palladio, Brunelleschi, are
only simple by comparison with the licentiousness of their successors.
These two buildings and the baptistery stand together, and form a group,
which is, I suppose, hardly to be paralleled. The latter is a large
octagonal edifice, covered with a dome, and is considered to have been
an ancient baptistery, erected when the practice of immersion was
prevalent; but the precise date is unknown. The mosaic of the interior
was executed in 1260, and the marble incrustation of the outside in
1293, from a design by Arnolfo. If this be correct, we may readily
assign part of the outside of the cathedral to the same artist, for the
style much resembles that of the back of the tribunes. It is however,
almost certain, from the appearance of some of the windows, that it has
undergone alterations at a later period. Brunelleschi is said to have
copied the dome, in that of the cathedral. The bronze doors of this
building, the design of which is also attributed to Arnolfo, are much
admired; but I shall enter into no particulars of what has been so often
described. There is one other building in Florence designed by Giotto.
It was erected for a corn market in 1337; afterwards it became a church,
in consequence of a figure of the virgin, painted by Ugolino da Siena,
which obtained a miraculous reputation during the plague which desolated
Europe in 1348; and it is now a deposit for the archives of the
city.[40] The lower windows are semicircular-headed, divided into three
lights, over which are intersecting arches, also semicircular. The upper
windows have pointed arches, but I doubt if these belong to the original
structure.
The church of Santa Croce was built by Arnolfo in 1294. The front is of
rough brickwork, the marble facing never having been executed, except a
course or two at the base. Internally, the design is Gothic, with seven
arches on each side. The side altars are of the Corinthian order, with
columns of _macigno_. This seems to be a micaceous sandstone, of a gray
colour; a good, but not a handsome material; the piers and archivolts of
the building are coloured to imitate it: the rest is whitewash: the
architecture has very little ornament, and the whole effect is poor, but
it has been ill treated. As in most of the Gothic churches in Florence,
the arches of the nave rise above the capitals of the columns, and the
springing of the great vault, which has a very bad effect. Santa Croce
has another claim on our attention, as the burying place of many
distinguished men. Here lies Michael Angelo Buonarotti, painter,
sculptor, and architect, having obtained the most extravagant praises in
each art. A man of amazing talents, but so great a mannerist, that he is
accused of having spoiled the Florentine school in every thing; and of
great industry; but who, though his life was long, has left very little
of finished work behind him. Here lies Machiavelli, the keen observer,
the profound reasoner; but who, in some of his works, seems to have
forgotten that there is in mankind a natural tendency to love truth and
virtue. Here also lies Micheli, one of the ablest botanists of modern
Europe: and we find many other of those great names, which have rendered
Florence so illustrious. Here likewise is Alfieri. Harsh, stern, rigid,
like Michael Angelo, and like him, possessing great powers, and strong
expression; and being as great a mannerist. The duchess of York and
Albany has erected to Alfieri a monument of Canova’s, at an expense of
4,500_l_ sterling. It is very large, but not beautiful.
Brunelleschi is said to have borrowed much from the two ancient churches
of San Remigio, and of the Santi Apostoli. The first is a Gothic
edifice, in which the divisions of the nave are about square, and the
springing of its vaults hardly higher than that of the side aisles. It
offers nothing remarkable as an object of study to the architect, but it
has considerable resemblance to Santa Maria Novella, the idea of which
is said to have been taken from this edifice.
At the Santi Apostoli is a range of columns of a tolerable Corinthian,
crowned with a large sima above the abacus, on which the arches rest;
there is no cornice, or any continued straight line between the arches
and the ceiling, so that it cannot by any means be correctly said to
exhibit those peculiarities which mark the architecture of Brunelleschi.
Both these churches are believed to be of high antiquity, but the latter
has been restored, perhaps about the time of that artist, or not much
before.
It is a pity that the passion, and means of building, had their chief
influence at Florence, just as the Gothic taste began to disappear, and
the Roman to take its place. The Florentines, themselves, perhaps do not
think it a disadvantage, as it is owing to this coincidence that they
are able to boast of having led the way in the restoration of
architecture. But it is owing also to this, that so many of their
buildings are unfinished; for since the old taste fell rapidly into
extreme disrepute, they would not venture to erect the façade, (always
apparently the part last completed) according to the original design,
nor could they agree in any new design, always out of harmony with the
edifice; and consequently it generally remains in rough brickwork or
plaster. The church of Santa Maria Novella is however one of those which
has a façade. The body of the building was begun in 1279, nineteen years
before the cathedral, from the design of two Dominican monks, Fra Sisto,
and Fra Ristoro; and was completed in 1350. The façade was finished in
1477; the lower part reminds one very much of the architecture of the
baptistery, and probably was designed by the original architects. The
pedestal above this and the second order may be of Leon Battista
Alberti, to whom the whole is unjustly attributed, but the great side
scrolls are perhaps posterior to him. There is a date of 1470 on the
frieze. Internally, there are six Gothic arches, of which the larger are
about equal to the width of the nave: each has a small circular window
over it; thus you see, it belongs to that style for which I have so
often wanted a name, but of which the church of Sta. Anastasia at
Verona, is still my favourite example. The transept has no effect,
because there is no additional height or light at the intersection, yet
it is a very fine building. The high altar is a recent production, and
though not very good in itself, and perhaps rather too large, is
nevertheless a fine object, and fills its situation nobly. The side
chapels are said, in the Description of Florence, to be of one order;
but this is not correct. They are all of the same style, but of no
order, and all in some degree different; they all agree however, in one
particular, as each of them is surmounted with a broken angular pediment
within an entire circular one.
Let us now pass to Brunelleschi’s architecture, as exemplified in the
two magnificent churches of S. Lorenzo, and Santo Spirito; and first of
San Lorenzo, which was founded in 1425. The front, as usual, is
unfinished, nor does this militate against my theory of the cause of the
unfinished state of the Florentine edifices; for although Brunelleschi
completely drove out the old style, he did not bring in his own; and the
style of ecclesiastical building, after his death, is extremely
different from any thing which he performed. How he would have managed
his fronts, I do not know, as it does not appear that any of them were
ever executed. The inside is fine, and even sublime, in spite of all the
faults which I am going to enumerate. It is 144 braccia (275 feet 5
inches) in length, and 36 (68 feet 10 inches) wide, inclusive of the
side chapels; the length of the transept is 60 braccia (114 feet 9
inches). On entering the great doorway, you have a long and noble range
of Corinthian columns on each side, supporting arches; above these is a
continued entablature, over which is an upright wall, with narrow
semicircularly headed windows, and a flat ceiling, divided into square
compartments. The aisles are covered with groined arches, and beyond the
aisles is a range of side chapels, which are very rudely finished. Over
these side chapels, in the semicircular cross arches of the aisles,
there were originally circular windows, but these are now filled up.
This disposition, exhibiting two ranges of columns, which divide the
building into three unequal parts, was that of the ancient basilicas,
and of the early churches which were copied from them. In some of these,
the columns were surmounted immediately by an entablature; in others,
they supported arches. Brunelleschi seems to have particularly admired
and studied the latter form, and has imitated it more than once. It has
some advantages and some disadvantages inseparably connected with it;
but this building has also many defects quite its own. The arches spring
from an entablature which crowns the column, and faces four ways. Arches
springing immediately from the capital, are thought objectionable, from
an appearance of weakness and insufficiency, and yet, even this very
appearance contributes to the lightness and elegance of the building;
provided there is nothing to contradict it, by giving apparent weight
above. Perhaps the best way is to put a strong block at the top of the
capital, or to increase the thickness of the abacus. Instead of these an
architrave only might be introduced; but this, retreating again to the
size of the column, is not satisfactory. At any rate, the whole
entablature has a very bad effect, as it looks like a second capital,
larger indeed, but not at all stronger than the first; and besides, has
the absurdity of suggesting the appearance of a roof, where it is
evident no roof can possibly be. Passing along the building, you observe
that the piers, which support the cupola at the intersection of the
cross, are much too small; they are indeed larger than the others, but
not by any means in proportion to the duty they have to perform. You
will understand these remarks to apply to the effect to the eye only. I
do not pretend to have calculated the weight each part has to sustain,
or to know whether, in this point of view, they are justly proportioned.
The design would be better without either transept or cupola. Or if
these were essential, the termination of the nave should be strongly
marked as the completion of one part, and the commencement of another.
All the details of the mouldings, capitals, &c. are bad. The columns and
pilasters are of the dun macigno, and the archivolts and architraves are
of the same; but the friezes are mostly whitewashed, and so are all the
upright faces of wall; and the effect of this dull, heavy, gray, on the
glaring white ground, is as bad as you can imagine. There is a much
greater extent of this plain surface, and consequently of whitewash, in
the tribune, (_i. e._ that part of the cross beyond the transept,) than
in the rest of the church; and thus, the parts about the high altar,
which ought in some degree to partake of its splendour and high finish,
instead of being the richest, are the poorest in the whole building. On
one of my visits here I found workmen employed in hanging it with
drapery of scarlet and silver tissue. The Roman catholic clergy are
probably right in preferring these temporary ornaments, to those which
are of a more permanent nature, and connected with the architecture;
what is always visible loses its effect. From the church we pass into
the Sagrestia Nuova, or Capella de’ Depositi, of the architecture of
Michael Angelo Buonarotti, with tombs designed by him, and sculpture of
his execution. How much were my expectations raised! I had seen indeed,
here and there, some unfinished piece of his sculpture, and some
architecture doubtfully attributed to him; but here it seemed as if I
were going to be personally introduced to this wonderful man. How was I
disappointed! The mixture of the usual dark, dun stone and whitewash
would to be sure spoil any architecture, and the beauty of a small room
like this depends much more on such accessories, than that of a spacious
church; but here is really nothing to spoil. Simplicity I did not
expect, but this has neither grace nor boldness, lightness nor
magnificence. The tombs please me as little as the building, and shall I
venture to tell you, (but it must be in a whisper) that the four great
figures of Day and Night, Dawn and Twilight, are overcharged in their
limbs and muscles, and awkward and uneasy in their attitudes. There is
also a Madonna and Child by the same artist. The Infant Christ is a
young Hercules, and the Madonna evidently uncomfortable. I could not get
it out of my head that she was seeking her pocket-handkerchief.