THE INTELLECTUAL DAWN AFTER THE MIDDLE AGES (1260-1336)
Though the beginning of the Modern World manifested itself in every
department of life, political, social, and intellectual, it is best
known to us through the arts, because in them it embodied itself in
permanent forms. Italy suddenly leaped forward, as if she had drained a
beaker of champagne. To explain and illustrate this burst of passion,
the books generally use such phrases as emphasis upon individuality,
imitation of the classic, observation of nature, wider range of
interest, the awakening of spiritual energy, etc. No doubt the phrases
are just, but one must remember that underneath these manifestations of
an eager interest in life, there actually was a larger, happier life,
due in great measure to security, ease, and the accumulation of
property, which set men free from the bondage of continuous daily labour
to satisfy corporal needs. Of that happier life, with its gayety and
luxury, Villani, the historian of Florence, has given us a description.
He himself was a boy at the time. "In the year of Our Lord 1283 the city
of Florence, chiefly on account of the Guelfs who were in power, was
prosperous and at peace, and in a state of great tranquillity, which was
very advantageous to the merchants and artisans. In June, at the Feast
of St. John, in the quarter across the Arno, where the Rossi and their
neighbours were the principal people, the nobility and the rich
organized themselves into a company, and adopted a dress all white, and
chose a master called the Lord of Love. The object of the company was to
have feasts, games, and dances for the ladies and gentlemen of the city,
and other persons of quality. They used to parade the town with trumpets
and other musical instruments, and had great dinners and suppers and all
kinds of jollity. The festivities lasted nearly two months, and were the
finest and most celebrated that were ever held in Florence or all
Tuscany. Gentlemen and troubadours came from far and near, and all were
received and entertained with distinction. And it is worth remembering
that the city and its citizens were better off then than they had ever
been, and this prosperity continued till the division into Burghers and
_Grandi_. There were then in Florence three hundred knights, and there
were many companies of gentlemen and ladies, who morning and evening
kept open table richly spread, and had buffoons in attendance, so that
from Lombardy and all Italy jesters, players, and jugglers came to
Florence, and all were welcome; and whenever a stranger of distinction
passed through the city there was rivalry between the companies to get
him as their guest, and then he was accompanied, on foot or on
horseback, all through the city and the country round, most politely."
This was the light and careless side of the general awakening of
interest in life, which showed itself in so many nobler forms.
In literature Dante (1265-1321) is the first great figure. But, owing to
his disproportional importance, we are liable to forget that he has his
orderly place in the revival of poetry and literature which began in the
brilliant court of Frederick II in Sicily. On the destruction of the
Hohenstaufens, the poetic primacy passed to Bologna, where Guido
Guinicelli and others composed poetry in a somewhat learned fashion, as
befitted a university town, and then passed on to Tuscany, and in
particular to Florence, where Dante was preceded by his friend Guido
Cavalcanti. Dante, although distinctly mediaeval by his theology, his
appeals to the authority of Virgil and Aristotle, and by his political
views, has the characteristics of the new spiritual energy. He lays
immense stress on individuality, and delineates real life with wonderful
vividness. These traits mark him as belonging to the new world coming in
rather than to the old world going out.
From the point of view of history, Dante's most marked achievement,
perhaps, was to raise the Tuscan (or more strictly speaking the
Florentine) idiom, from among many competitors, to the dignity of being
the Italian language. This was the consequence of writing the "Divine
Comedy" in Tuscan, instead of in Latin. Dante's Tuscan verses were
recited in the tavern and on the _piazza_, and were greeted with loud
applause by apprentices and artisans, shopmen and tavern-keepers. He
excited the enthusiasm of both educated and ignorant. At that time the
spoken dialects were very numerous. A friend remonstrating with Dante
for writing in an Italian dialect instead of in Latin, said that there
were a thousand. Dante himself in his treatise "On the Vernacular
Speech" enumerates Sicilian, Calabrian, Apulian, Roman, Tuscan, Genoese,
Sardinian, Romagnol, Lombard, Venetian, and others. These dialects of
the provinces were further subdivided among themselves. In Tuscany the
people of Siena spoke one idiom, those of Arezzo another. In Lombardy
the citizens of Ferrara spoke in one way, the citizens of Piacenza in
another. Even in one city, as in Bologna, the dwellers in St. Felix
Street and those in Greater Street did not speak alike. Besides the
difficulties of many dialects, besides the immense prestige of Latin as
the language of learning, of law, of the Church, French appeared as a
possible literary language for Italy. Authors in Florence, Venice,
Siena, and Pisa wrote books in French, "because the French language goes
over the world, and is more delectable to read and to hear than any
other." But Dante made the Florentine tongue immortal, and not only
wrote the "Divine Comedy" in Florentine, but also "The New Life" and
"The Banquet." Prior to his time the divers idioms had stood on an
equality; after his time Tuscan became the language of polite speech and
of literature, the real Italian language, and the others were degraded
to the position of mere dialects. Petrarch and Boccaccio, both
Florentines, also deserve their share of praise. Petrarch's sonnets and
Boccaccio's stories firmly established the primacy to which Dante had
raised the Tuscan idiom.
The revival of sculpture also began before the middle of the thirteenth
century. Here the great leader is Niccolo Pisano (1206-78?). There has
been a dispute as to his birthplace. Some say he came from Southern
Italy and learned his art there. If this theory is true, Frederick's
kingdom has the honour of having revived sculpture as well as
literature; but it is more likely that Niccolo came from some village in
Tuscany, and early went to Pisa, where he got his designation _Pisano_.
The first certain record of his work is an inscription on the pulpit in
the Baptistery at Pisa, which states that he completed the pulpit in
1260. Pisa was then at the height of her glory, in the happy years
before her fatal conflict with Genoa; she had built the Cathedral, the
Leaning Tower, and the Baptistery, and now wished to beautify them
within. Niccolo's pulpit shows both imitation of the classic and
observation of nature. He had before him bits of ancient sarcophagi,
which had been built into the wall of the Cathedral: his Madonna bears
traces of the Phaedra of the sarcophagus, one of his three Wise Men
resembles a young Greek, and his modelling in general has a touch of
classic freedom, dignity, and repose. In his conception of the scenes
Niccolo adhered to ecclesiastical tradition, just as Dante did to
ecclesiastical theology, but in his figures, in the drapery and various
details, his faithfulness to reality is striking, at least when compared
with the Byzantine style theretofore prevailing. The success of this
pulpit was so great that a few years later he was asked to carve another
for the cathedral in Siena. An envoy came on purpose, and in the
Baptistery of Pisa a contract was drawn up in which it was agreed that
Niccolo should go to Siena and stay till the work was done, taking three
assistants, and also his young son Giovanni, at half pay, if he wished.
This contract was made in 1265, the year of Dante's birth. Niccolo also
worked at Bologna, Perugia, Pistoia, probably at Lucca and almost
certainly in many other places. This was the period of the free
development of the communes after the death of Frederick II, and
Niccolo's popularity is proof of widespread prosperity and interest in
art. Niccolo's son Giovanni (1250-1328?) inherited his father's genius;
and his work, especially his masterpiece, a pulpit at Pistoia, shows how
fast art was developing. Giovanni, in his eagerness to express the
animation and passion of life, neglected the classic and went directly
to nature, at least in desire if not in execution. This passionate
interest in life is the very quality that gives Dante's "Inferno" its
intense vividness. These two Pisani founded the great Tuscan school of
sculpture, and influenced both painting and architecture as well.
Italian architecture at this time does not show one great figure like
Niccolo Pisano, nor does it show a definite beginning of a new period.
On the contrary, throughout the Middle Ages building held its own
surprisingly well in comparison with the other arts. In the days of
Theodoric the Ostrogoth, it carried on the Byzantine tradition at
Ravenna, and for centuries the churches in Rome were built on the old
basilican principle. Over a hundred years before Dante was born, and
before Niccolo carved his pulpit, the Lombard style flourished in
Lombardy, Tuscan Romanesque in Tuscany, and Norman Sicilian in Sicily.
Before the Empire had received its _coup de grace_ the Gothic style came
down from the North, and its struggle with the Romanesque seemed to
typify the conflict between the German Empire and the Italian people.
Nevertheless, if we confine ourselves to Tuscany, as perhaps is fair in
view of the very great influence of Tuscany on all the arts, there is
one man who stands out conspicuous. Arnolfo di Cambio (1232-1300?) began
life as one of Niccolo's assistants at Pisa, and did so well that he was
included by name in the contract for the pulpit at Siena. In Florence he
built the church of Santa Croce for the Franciscans, designed the
Palazzo Vecchio, and made the first plans for the Duomo; and so left a
deep impress on Florence and through Florence on the world.
In painting, more than in any other art or department of life, perhaps,
authority had reigned supreme throughout the Middle Ages. The decadent
Greek painters of Constantinople had made a series of rules, which were
as autocratic as the edicts of the Emperors. Every Madonna was painted
in one attitude, with her eyes opening wide in the same way, arms, legs,
and body in the same constrained position, with the same wooden child in
her wooden lap, and the same wooden saints about her. But gradually,
side by side with the art of authority, another style, at first very
simple and primitive, developed. The older style dominated mosaic work,
and as mosaics were most intimately associated with the symbolic
representation of sacred things, it was strongly intrenched behind all
the beliefs and prejudices of the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, the
revolutionary spirit in Tuscany, for the leaders of the revolution which
threw off the authority of the Middle Ages came from among the free men
of Tuscany, prevailed in painting as well as elsewhere. The last of the
masters who employed the Byzantine manner was Cimabue (1240-1302); yet
Cimabue had a sense of the coming change, and showed a desire to break
through the enveloping shell of Byzantine authority and portray the
grace and beauty of living human beings. However mediaeval his manner
seems to us, his contemporaries, eager as the Athenians for new things,
perceived the novelty in it. When he was painting a Madonna for the
Dominican monks in Florence, Charles of Anjou, fresh from his triumph
over Manfred, visited his studio for the honour of a first view, and
crowds pressed about hoping to get a glimpse of the picture. When the
picture was carried through the streets to its destination in the church
of Santa Maria Novella, a great procession followed, as if it were a
hero returned from the wars. Poor Cimabue, however, is seldom mentioned
except as a dull background against which the conquering Giotto stands
in brilliant relief.
Giotto (1267?-1336) is the master revolutionist of painting. He was a
contemporary of Dante, a few years younger, born at the time when
Niccolo and Giovanni were working at the pulpit in Siena, and Charles
of Anjou was posing as an admirer of the fine arts in Cimabue's studio.
He painted Dante in a fresco on the wall of the Bargello (a palace in
Florence), at least so tradition says; and Dante in the "Divine Comedy"
speaks of him as outstripping the once renowned Cimabue. Giotto was an
ugly little man, of great character and quick wit. Various stories are
told of his repartees. Once, when he was painting for the King of Naples
and working with great diligence, the king, who used to watch him, said,
"Giotto, if I were you, I should not work so hard." "I shouldn't,--if I
were you," retorted Giotto. He studied under Giovanni Pisano, and
learned so much that it has been said that "Giotto is the greatest work
of the Pisani." Giotto was also the successor to Arnolfo as the leading
architect in Florence, and built the Campanile of the Duomo, and, being
likewise a sculptor, modelled some of the bas-reliefs that ornament the
panels of the base. His great art was painting, and especially the
painting of figures. Giotto was in demand to paint frescoes on the walls
of churches and chapels at Florence, Arezzo, Assisi, Padua, Ravenna,
Rome, and Naples; and other painters came from far and near to study
under him. He dominated Italian painting, and his school was the only
school for a hundred years. After the world had adopted Raphael's
frescoes as the type of excellence his fame was dimmed for a time, but
since Mr. Ruskin's enthusiastic admiration it has regained its ancient
lustre.
These instances of revolution in the arts show that a new intellectual
life had begun, that the Middle Ages had really ended. In fact, the
passing away of the Holy Roman Empire and of the European suzerainty of
the Papacy was merely an episode in the general intellectual
revolution.