MOSTLY ABOUT THE SCHOOL OF SIENA
“Yon heaven thy home, that waits and opes its door.”
Now let us pass on to Room II., which is devoted to the Sienese school.
Siena was close to Florence as we now compute distance, but in those
days, when the difficulties of travel were great, the schools did not
touch each other. That of Siena was extremely religious. Its Guild of
painters, in their charter, proclaimed religion to be the one saving
influence in life and art. “Since we are teachers to unlearned men, who
know not how to read, of the marvels done by the power and strength of
holy religion ... and since no undertaking, however small, can have a
beginning or an end without these three things—that is, without the
power to do, without knowledge, and without true love of the work; and
since in God every perfection is eminently united; now, to the end that
in this our calling, however unworthy it may be, we may have a good
beginning and a good ending in all our works and deeds, we will
earnestly ask the aid of the divine grace, and commence by a dedication
to the honour of the Name and in the Name of the most Holy Trinity.”
As we look round this room we feel how truly religion inspired the
painters. How beautiful is the colour, but how quaint is the drawing.
What strikes us as we look at this collection of works of artists of
Siena is the quantity of gold they used; they have golden backgrounds,
golden halos, the light on the drapery outlined in gold—all is a
survival of the Byzantine art that reigned before Cimabue and Giotto
brought a new spirit into the world. In its retreat among the mountains
Siena felt at first none of the movements that reached Florence. It knew
nothing for some time of Uccello’s perspective, of Pollajuolo’s anatomy;
it was moved by the spirit of religion only, the one that first inspired
art.
Some judges have considered Matteo di Giovanni (1435–1495) as the
school’s best and most representative painter; others look upon Duccio
(1260–1340) as its most conspicuous and important figure. The latter was
certainly the Cimabue of the Sienese school. He partly forsook the
conventional Byzantine manner, and sought to bring into his pictures
some resemblance to nature. To one of his works was accorded the honour
that was accorded to Cimabue’s Madonna. It was carried through the city
to the Duomo of Siena, the church bells rang, the trumpets sounded, as
the great picture was taken from the studio, where it had been painted,
to the church where it was to hang. It showed the Virgin surrounded by
angels seated on a throne, holding in her arms her Babe; angels, with
their chins in their hands, looked at her; saints and prophets were
kneeling in reverent attitudes before her. The archbishop with his
clergy, the fraternity of the monks, the great officials of the commune
followed by a crowd of men, women, and children in holiday attire, wound
their way through the city. It was a great time for art when the
painting of a picture could be thus celebrated. It was a time when there
was no reading—when all the ideas of men came to them through things
seen.
[Illustration:
“THE ANNUNCIATION” (1139)
BY DUCCIO
page 51
]
In “The Madonna and Child” (566) I think that Duccio tried to make men
understand the humanity as well as the divinity of Christ. Like a true
human child he draws aside the veil that hides His Mother’s face. Above
are the prophets, below St. Dominic and St. Catherine adoring this
vision of the Virgin. There is still a good deal of the Byzantine
influence, but we see a new awakening in this art of Duccio.
I want you next to look at “The Assumption of the Virgin” (1155) by
Matteo di Giovanni, who lived nearly two hundred years later. That
picture resumes all the artist’s creed. The Virgin seated on clouds
ascends heavenward, cherubim and seraphim float around hailing her. She
wears, as does the Beatrice of Dante in Paradise, the three theological
colours. Her draperies are white, red, and green, symbolic of faith,
hope, and charity. The background is golden. Her empty tomb is below,
groups of prophets are on either side. St. Thomas is there pressing
forward to grasp the girdle, which legend says the Virgin threw down to
him as she ascended. Duccio and Matteo di Giovanni, therefore, are the
two representative masters of the school of Siena. Duccio at its dawn,
Matteo heralding its setting.
There are many artists between them—Ugolino (died about 1339), about
whom few authentic details are known, but who, like Duccio, sought to
emancipate himself from convention. “The Procession to Calvary” (1189)
by him is a series of little scenes from the great tragedy of the
Passion. He was in great repute, and a Madonna that he painted was
believed to have miraculous powers. There were the two brothers
Lorenzetti, who painted pathetic, ill-drawn figures, illustrative of
some miraculous incident. Niccolo Buonaccorso (1388), remarkable for his
marvellous elaboration of gold ornaments. Then (in 1436 to about 1517)
came Benvenuto da Siena, who knew how to harmonise the old spirit with
the new—the old gold background dear to the Sienese to the fresh flesh
colouring of little children. In the “Madonna of the White Rose” (909)
these attributes are pre-eminent. In the compartments on either side are
St. Peter and St. Nicholas of Bari, with his favourite emblem, the three
gold balls, at his feet.