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Transcriber's note:
In the original text the name "Verrocchio" is, except for one
instance, misspelled as "Verrochio"; the name "Buonarroti" is
twice misspelled as "Buonarotti"; the name "Orcagna" is once
misspelled as "Orcagra"; and the name "Vasari" is once
misspelled as "Vassari." These have been corrected in this
e-text.
Variants, archaic forms, or Anglicizations of other names
(e.g., "Michael Angelo" for "Michelangelo"; "Or San Michele"
for "Orsanmichele"; "Brunellesco" for "Brunelleschi") have
been retained as they appear in the original.
Characters with macrons are indicated in brackets, e.g. [=U].
Characters following a caret character are superscripted, e.g.
M^a.
DONATELLO
by
LORD BALCARRES
[Illustration: _Alinari_
CHRIST ON THE CROSS
SANT' ANTONIO, PADUA]
[Illustration: DESORMAIS]
London: Duckworth and Co.
New York: Charles Scribner's Sons
1903
All rights reserved
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
at the Ballantyne Press
PREFACE
An attempt is made in the following pages to determine the position
and character of Donatello's art in relation to that of his
contemporaries and successors. The subject must be familiar to many
who have visited Florence, but no critical work on the subject has
been published in English. I have therefore quoted as many authorities
as possible in order to assist those who may wish to look further into
problems which are still unsettled. Most of the books to which
reference is made can be consulted in the Art Library at South
Kensington, and in the British Museum. Foreign critics have written a
good deal about Donatello from varied, if somewhat limited aspects.
Dr. Bode's researches are, as a rule, illustrative of the works of art
in the Berlin Museum. The main object of Dr. Semper was to collect
documentary evidence about the earlier part of Donatello's life;
Gloria and Gonzati have made researches into the Paduan period; Lusini
confines his attention to Siena, Centofanti to Pisa; M. Reymond and
Eugène Müntz are more comprehensive in their treatment of the subject.
With eleven or twelve exceptions I have seen the original of every
existing piece of sculpture, architecture and painting mentioned in
this book. I regret, however, that among the exceptions should be a
work by Donatello himself, namely, the Salome relief at Lille--my
visits to that town having unfortunately coincided with public
holidays, when the gallery was closed. I must express my thanks to the
officials of Museums, as well as to private collectors all over
Europe, for unfailing courtesy and assistance. I have also to
acknowledge my indebtedness to the invaluable advice of Mr. S. Arthur
Strong, Librarian of the House of Lords.
21.vi.1903
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
COMPETITION FOR THE BAPTISTERY GATES 2
FIRST JOURNEY TO ROME 3
THE PREDECESSORS OF DONATELLO 5
FIRST WORK FOR THE CATHEDRAL 7
THE CATHEDRAL FAÇADE 8
THE DANIEL AND POGGIO 10
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST AND THE MARBLE DAVID 14
STATUES OF THE CAMPANILE 17
ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST 18
JEREMIAH AND THE CANON OF ART 20
HABAKKUK AND THE SENSE OF DISTANCE 23
THE ZUCCONE, "REALISM" AND NATURE 26
THE ZUCCONE AND THE SENSE OF LIGHT AND SHADE 29
ABRAHAM AND THE SENSE OF PROPORTION 30
DRAPERY AND HANDS 31
MINOR WORKS FOR THE CATHEDRAL 33
OR SAN MICHELE, ST. PETER AND ST. MARK 35
ST. LOUIS 38
ST. GEORGE 39
DONATELLO AND GOTHIC ART 42
THE CRUCIFIX AND ANNUNCIATION 47
MARTELLI, DAVID, AND DONATELLO'S TECHNIQUE 52
EARLY FIGURES OF ST. JOHN 56
DONATELLO AS ARCHITECT AND PAINTER 59
THE SIENA FONT 70
MICHELOZZO AND THE COSCIA TOMB 72
THE ARAGAZZI TOMB 76
THE BRANCACCI TOMB 77
STIACCIATO 80
TOMBS OF PECCI, CRIVELLI, AND OTHERS 82
THE SECOND VISIT TO ROME 88
WORK AT ROME 94
THE MEDICI MEDALLIONS 97
THE BRONZE DAVID 99
DONATELLO AND CHILDHOOD 103
THE CANTORIA 107
THE PRATO PULPIT 109
OTHER CHILDREN BY DONATELLO 113
BOYS' BUSTS 116
NICCOLÒ DA UZZANO AND POLYCHROMACY 121
PORTRAIT-BUSTS 125
RELIEF-PORTRAITS 131
SAN LORENZO 133
THE BRONZE DOORS 135
THE JUDITH 140
THE MAGDALEN AND SIMILAR STATUES 144
THE ALTAR AT PADUA 149
THE LARGE STATUES 152
THE BRONZE RELIEFS 156
THE SYMBOLS OF THE EVANGELISTS 161
THE CHOIR OF ANGELS 163
THE PIETÀ AND THE ENTOMBMENT 164
DONATELLO'S ASSISTANTS 167
BELLANO AND THE GATTAMELATA TOMBS 170
GATTAMELATA 173
SMALLER RELIEFS AND PLAQUETTES 176
THE MADONNAS 179
THE PULPITS OF SAN LORENZO 186
DONATELLO'S INFLUENCE ON SCULPTURE 190
EARLY CRITICISM OF DONATELLO 193
CHARACTER AND PERSONALITY OF DONATELLO 194
APPENDIX I 199
APPENDIX II 201
APPENDIX III 204
INDEX 207
ILLUSTRATIONS
Christ on the Cross _Frontispiece_
Joshua _To face page_ 10
Poggio " 12
Mocenigo Tomb " 14
Marble David " 16
St. John the Evangelist " 18
Jeremiah " 20
Habakkuk " 24
The Zuccone " 26
Abraham and Isaac " 30
St. Mark " 36
St. George " 40
St. George " 42
Annunciation " 48
San Giovannino " 56
St. John Baptist, Marble " 58
Clay Sketch of Crucifixion and Flagellation " 62
Niche of Or San Michele " 64
The Marzocco " 66
The Martelli Shield " 68
Salome Relief, Siena " 70
Tomb of Coscia, Pope John XXIII. " 72
Effigy of Pope John XXIII. " 74
Tomb of Cardinal Brancacci " 78
Tomb Plate of Bishop Pecci " 86
Tabernacle " 94
The Charge to Peter " 96
The Bronze David " 100
Cantoria " 106
Cantoria (Detail) " 108
The Prato Pulpit " 110
Bronze Amorino " 114
San Giovannino " 118
Niccolò da Uzzano " 122
Bronze Doors " 136
Judith " 140
St. Mary Magdalen " 144
St. John the Baptist " 146
Saint Francis, the Madonna, and Saint
Anthony " 152
Miracle of the Speaking Babe " 156
Miracle of the Miser's Heart " 158
Miracle of the Mule " 160
Symbol of St. Matthew " 162
Choristers " 164
Choristers " 164
Christ Mourned by Angels " 166
Super Altar by Giovanni da Pisa " 168
Tomb of Giovanni, Son of General Gattamelata " 170
Tomb of General Gattamelata " 172
Shrine of St. Justina " 172
General Gattamelata " 174
Colleone " 176
Madonna and Child " 180
"Pazzi" Madonna " 182
Madonna and Child " 184
Madonna " 186
Side Panel of Pulpit " 188
End Panel of Pulpit " 190
_The reproductions from photographs which illustrate this
volume have been made by Messrs. J.J. Waddington, Ltd. 14
Henrietta Street, W.C._
DONATELLO
The materials for a biography of Donatello are so scanty, that his
life and personality can only be studied in his works. The Renaissance
gave birth to few men of productive genius whose actual careers are so
little known. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Donatello composed no
treatise on his art; he wrote no memoir or commentary, no sonnets, and
indeed scarcely a letter of his even on business topics has survived.
For specific information about his career we therefore depend upon
some returns made to the Florentine tax-collectors, and upon a number
of contracts and payments for work carried out in various parts of
Italy. But, however familiar Donatello the sculptor may be to the
student of Italian art, Donatello the man must remain a mystery. His
biography offers no attraction for those whose curiosity requires
minute and intimate details of domestic life. Donatello bequeathed
nothing to posterity except a name, his masterpieces and a lasting
influence for good.
The _Denunzia de' beni_, which was periodically demanded from
Florentine citizens, was a declaration of income combined with what
would now be called census returns. Donatello made three statements of
this nature,[1] in 1427, 1433 and 1457. It is difficult to determine
his age, as in each case the date of his birth is differently
inferred. But it is probable that the second of these returns, when he
said that he was forty-seven years old, gives his correct age. This
would place his birth in 1386, and various deductions from other
sources justify this attribution. We gather also that Donatello lived
with his mother Orsa, his father having died before 1415. The widow,
who is mentioned in 1427, and not in 1433, presumably died before the
latter date. One sister, Tita, a dowerless widow, is mentioned in the
earliest _denunzia_, living with her mother and Donatello, her son
Giuliano having been born in 1409. It is probable that Donatello had a
brother, but the matter is somewhat obscure, and it is now certain
that he cannot be identified with the sculptor Simone, who used to be
considered Donatello's brother on the authority of Vasari.
[Footnote 1: Gaye, Carteggio, i. 120. See Appendix II. A.]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Competition for the Baptistery Gates.]
The year 1402 marks an event of far-reaching importance in the history
of Italian art. Having decided to erect bronze doors for their
Baptistery, the Florentines invited all artists to submit competitive
designs. After a preliminary trial, six artists were selected and a
further test was imposed. They were directed to make a bronze relief
of given size and shape, the subject being the Sacrifice of Isaac. Few
themes could have been better chosen, as the artist had to show his
capacity to portray youth and age, draped and undraped figures, as
well as landscape and animal life. The trial plaques were to be sent
to the judges within twelve months. Donatello did not compete, being
only a boy, but he must have been familiar with every stage in the
contest, which excited the deepest interest in Tuscany. A jury of
thirty-four experts, among whom were goldsmiths and painters as well
as sculptors, assembled to deliver the final verdict. The work of
Jacobo della Quercia of Siena was lacking in elegance and delicacy;
the design submitted by Simone da Colle was marred by faulty drawing;
that of Niccolo d'Arezzo by badly proportioned figures; while
Francesco di Valdambrino made a confused and inharmonious group. It
was evident that Ghiberti and Brunellesco were the most able
competitors, and the jury hesitated before giving a decision.
Brunellesco, however, withdrew in favour of his younger rival, and the
commission was accordingly entrusted to Ghiberti. The decision was
wise: Ghiberti's model, technically as well as æsthetically, was
superior to that of Brunellesco. Both are preserved at Florence, and
nobody has regretted the acceptance of Ghiberti's design, for its
rejection would have made a sculptor of Brunellesco, whose real tastes
and inclinations were towards architecture, to which he rendered
services of incomparable value.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: First Journey to Rome.]
For a short time Donatello was probably one of the numerous _garzoni_
or assistants employed by Ghiberti in making the gates, but his first
visit to Rome is the most important incident of his earlier years.
Brunellesco, disappointed by his defeat, and wishing to study the
sculpture and architecture of Rome, sold a property at Settignano to
raise funds for the journey. He was accompanied by Donatello, his
_stretissimo amico_, [Transcriber's Note: Probably should be
"strettissimo."] and they spent at least a year together in Rome,
learning what they could from the existing monuments of ancient art,
and making jewelry when money was wanted for their household expenses.
Tradition says that they once unearthed a hoard of old coins and were
thenceforward known as the treasure-seekers--_quelli del' tesoro_. But
the influence of antiquity upon Donatello was never great, and
Brunellesco had to visit Rome frequently before he could fully realise
the true bearings of classical art. It has been argued that Donatello
never made this early visit to Rome on the ground that his subsequent
work shows no traces of classical influence. On such a problem as this
the affirmative statement of Vasari is lightly disregarded. But the
biographer of Brunellesco is explicit on the point, giving many
details about their sojourn; and this book was written during the
lifetime of both Donatello and Brunellesco. The argument against the
visit is, in fact, untenable. Artists were influenced by classical
motives without going to Rome. Brunellesco himself placed in his
competition design a figure inspired by the bronze boy drawing a thorn
out of his foot--the _Spinario_ of the Capitol. Similar examples could
be quoted from the work of Luca della Robbia, and it would be easy to
show, on the other hand, that painters like Masaccio, Fra Angelico,
and Piero della Francesca were able to execute important work in Rome
without allowing themselves to be influenced by the classical spirit
except in details and accessories. Moreover, if one desired to press
the matter further, it can be shown that in the work completed by
Donatello before 1433, the year in which he made his second and
undisputed visit, there are sufficient signs of classical motive in
his architectural backgrounds to justify the opinion that he was
acquainted with the ancient buildings of Rome. The Relief on the font
at Siena and that in the Musée Wicar at Lille certainly show classical
study. At the same time, in measuring the extent to which Donatello
was influenced by his first visit to Rome, we must remember that it is
often difficult and sometimes impossible to determine the source of
what is generically called classical. The revival or reproduction of
Romanesque motives is often mistaken for classical research. In the
places where Christianity had little classical architecture to guide
it--Ravenna, for instance--a new line was struck out; but elsewhere
the Romanesque had slowly emerged from the classical, and in many
cases there was no strict line of demarcation between the two. But
Donatello was very young when he went to Rome, and the fashion of the
day had not then turned in favour of classical study. The sculptors
working in Rome, colourless men as they were, drew their inspiration
from Gothic and pre-Renaissance ideals. In Florence the ruling motives
were even more Gothic in tendency. It is in this school that Donatello
found his earliest training, and though he modified and transcended
all that his teachers could impart, his sculpture always retained a
character to which the essential elements of classical art contributed
little or nothing.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The Predecessors of Donatello.]
Florence was busily engaged in decorating her great buildings. The
fourteenth century had witnessed the structural completion of the
Cathedral, excepting its dome, of the Campanile, and of the Church of
Or San Michele. During the later years of the century their adornment
was begun. A host of sculptors was employed, the number and scale of
statues required being great. There was a danger that the sculpture
might have become a mere handmaid of the architecture to which it was
subordinated. But this was not the case; the sculptors preserved a
freedom in adapting their figures to the existing architectural lines,
and it is precisely in the statuary applied to completed buildings
that we can trace the most interesting transitions from Gothic to
Renaissance. It is needless to discuss closely the work which was
erected before Donatello's return from Rome: much of it has unhappily
perished, and what remains is for the purposes of this book merely
illustrative of the early inspiration of Donatello. Piero Tedesco made
a number of statues for the Cathedral, Mea and Giottino worked for the
Campanile. Lorenzo di Bicci, sculptor, architect, and painter, was one
of those whose influence extended to Donatello; Niccolo d'Arezzo was
perhaps the most original of this group, making a genuine effort to
shake off the conventional system. But, on the whole, the last quarter
of the fourteenth century showed but little progress. Indeed, from the
time of the later Pisani there seems to have been a period of
stagnation, a pause during which the anticipated progress bore little
fruit. Orcagna never succeeded in developing the ideas of his master.
The shrine in Or San Michele, marvellous in its way, admirable alike
for diligence and sincerity, stands alone, and was not imbued with the
life which could make it an influence upon contemporary art.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: First Work for the Cathedral.]
The first recorded payment to Donatello by the Domopera, or Cathedral
authorities, was made in November 1406, when he received ten golden
florins as an instalment towards his work on the two prophets for the
North door of the church, which is rather inaccurately described in
the early documents as facing the Via de' Servi. Fifteen months later
he received the balance of six florins. These two marble figures,
small as they are, and placed high above the gables, are not very
noticeable, but they contain the germ of much which was to follow. The
term "prophet" can only be applied to them by courtesy, for they are
curly-haired boys with free and open countenances; one of them happens
to hold a scroll and the other wears a chaplet of bay leaves. There is
a certain charm about them, a freshness and vitality which reappears
later on when Donatello was making the dancing children for the Prato
pulpit and the singing gallery for the Cathedral. The two prophets,
particularly the one to the right, are clothed with a skill and
facility all the more remarkable from the fact that some of the
statues made soon afterwards, show a stiff and rigid treatment of
drapery. Closely allied to these figures is a small marble statue,
about three feet high, belonging to Madame Edouard André in Paris. It
is a full-length figure of a standing youth, modelled with precision,
and intended to be placed in a niche or against a background. Like the
prophets just described, it has a high forehead, while the drapery
falls in strong harmonious lines, a corner being looped up over the
left arm. It is undoubtedly by Donatello, being the earliest example
of his work in any collection, public or private, and on that account
of importance, apart from its intrinsic merits.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The Cathedral Façade.]
Donatello soon received commissions for statues of a more imposing
scale to be placed on the ill-fated façade of the Cathedral. All
beautiful within, the churches of Florence are singularly poor in
those rich façades which give such scope to the sculptor and
architect, conferring, as at Pisa, distinction on a whole town. The
churches of the Carmine, Santo Spirito and San Lorenzo are without
façades at all, presenting graceless and unfinished masonry in place
of what was intended by their founders. Elsewhere there are late and
florid façades alien to the spirit of the main building, while it has
been left to our own generation to complete Santa Croce and the
Cathedral. The latter, it is true, once had a façade, which, though
never finished, was ambitiously planned. A large section of it was,
however, erected in Donatello's time, but was removed for no reason
which can be adequately explained, except that on the occasion of a
royal marriage it was thought necessary to destroy what was contrived
in the _maniera tedesca_, substituting a sham painted affair which was
speedily ruined by the elements. The ethics of vandalism are indeed
strange and varied. In this case vanity was responsible. It was
superstition which led the Sienese, after incurring defeat by the
Florentines, to remove from their market-place the famous statue by
Lysippus which brought them ill-luck, and to bury it in Florentine
territory, so that their enemies might suffer instead. Ignorance
nearly induced a Pope to destroy the "Last Judgment" of Michael
Angelo, whose colossal statue of an earlier Pontiff, Julius II., was
broken up through political animosity. One wishes that in this last
case there had been some practical provision such as that inserted by
the House of Lords in the order for destroying the Italian Tombs at
Windsor in 1645, when they ordained that "they that buy the tombs
shall have liberty to transport them beyond the seas, for making the
best advantage of them." The vandalism which dispersed Donatello's
work could not even claim to be utilitarian, like that which so nearly
caused the destruction of the famous chapel by Benozzo Gozzoli in the
Riccardi Palace (for the purposes of a new staircase);[2] neither was
it caused by the exigencies of war, such as the demolition of the
Monastery of San Donato, a treasure-house of early painting, razed to
the ground by the Florentines when awaiting the siege of 1529. The
Cathedral façade was hastily removed, and only a fraction of the
statuary has survived. Two figures are in the Louvre; another has been
recently presented to the Cathedral by the Duca di Sermoneta, himself
a Caetani, of Boniface VIII., a portrait-statue even more remarkable
than that of the same Pope at Bologna. Four more figures from the old
façade, now standing outside the Porta Romana of Florence, are misused
and saddened relics. They used to be the major prophets, but on
translation were crowned with laurels, and now represent Homer,
Virgil, Dante and Petrarch. Other statues are preserved inside the
Cathedral. Before dealing with these it is necessary to point out how
difficult it is to determine the authorship and identity of the
surviving figures. In the first place, our materials for
reconstructing the design of the old façade are few. There were
various pictures, some of which in their turn have perished, where
guidance might have been expected. But the representations of the
Cathedral in frescoes at San Marco, Santa Croce, the Misericordia and
Santa Maria Novella help us but little. Up to the eighteenth century
there used to be a model in the Opera del Duomo: this also has
vanished, and we are compelled to make our deductions from a rather
unsatisfactory drawing made by Bernardo Pocetti in the sixteenth
century. It shows the disposition of statuary so sketchily that we can
only recognise a few of the figures. But we have a perfect idea of the
general style and aim of those who planned the façade, which would
have far surpassed the rival frontispieces of Siena, Pisa and Orvieto.
We are met by a further difficulty in identifying the surviving
statues from the fact that the contracts given to sculptors by the
Chapter do not always specify the personage to be represented.
Moreover, in many cases the statues have no symbol attribute or
legend, which usually guide our interpretation of mediæval art. Thus
Donatello is paid _pro parte solutionis unius figure marmoree_;[3] or
for _figuram marmoream_.[4] Even when an obvious and familiar
explanation could be given, such as Abraham and Isaac, the accounts
record an instalment for the figure of a prophet with a naked boy at
his feet.[5]
[Footnote 2: Cinelli, p. 22.]
[Footnote 3: 23, xii. 1418.]
[Footnote 4: 12, xii. 1408.]
[Footnote 5: 30, v. 1421.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
JOSHUA
CATHEDRAL, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: The Daniel and Poggio.]
Nine large marble figures for the Cathedral are now accepted as the
work of Donatello. Others may have perished, and it is quite possible
that in one at least of the other statues Donatello may have had a
considerable share. With the exception of St. John the Baptist and St.
John the Evangelist, all these statues are derived from the Old
Testament--Daniel, Jeremiah and Habbakuk, Abraham and the marble David
in the Bargello, together with the two figures popularly called
Poggio and the Zuccone. Among the earliest, and, it must be
acknowledged, the least interesting of these statues is the prophet
standing in a niche in the south aisle close to the great western door
of the Cathedral. It has been long recognised as a Donatello,[6] and
has been called Joshua. But, apart from the fact that he holds the
scroll of a prophet, whereas one would rather expect Joshua to carry a
sword, this statue is so closely related to the little prophets of the
Mandorla door that it is almost certainly coeval with them, and
consequently anterior in date to the period of the Joshua for which
Donatello was paid some years later. We find the same broad flow of
drapery, and the weight of the body is thrown on to one hip in a
pronounced manner, which is certainly ungraceful, though typical of
Donatello's early ideas of balance. It probably represents Daniel. He
has the high forehead, the thick curly hair and the youthful
appearance of the other prophets, while his "countenance appears
fairer and fatter in flesh,"[7] reminding one of Michael Angelo's
treatment of the same theme in the Sistine Chapel.
[Footnote 6: Osservatore Fiorentino, 1797, 3rd ed., iv. 216.]
[Footnote 7: Daniel i. 15.]
Like several of Donatello's statues, this figure is connected with the
name of a Florentine citizen, Giannozzo Manetti, and passes for his
portrait. There is no authority for the tradition, and Vespasiano de'
Bisticci makes no reference to the subject in his life of Manetti. The
statue is, no doubt, a portrait and may well have resembled Manetti,
but in order to have been directly executed as a portrait it could
scarcely have been made before 1426, when Manetti was thirty years
old, by which date the character of Donatello's work had greatly
changed. These traditional names have caused many critical
difficulties, as, when accepted as authentic, the obvious date of the
statue has been arbitrarily altered, so that the statue may harmonise
in point of date of execution with the apparent age of the individual
whom it is supposed to portray. A second example of the confusion
caused by the over-ready acceptance of these nomenclatures is afforded
by the remarkable figure which stands in the north aisle of the
Cathedral, opposite the Daniel. This statue has been called a portrait
of Poggio Bracciolini, the secretary of many Popes. Poggio was born in
1380 and passed some time in Florence during the year 1456. It has,
therefore, been assumed[8] that the statue was made at this time or
shortly afterwards, either as Donatello's tribute of friendship to
Poggio or as an order from the Cathedral authorities in his
commemoration. This theory is wholly untenable. We have no record of
any such work in 1456. The statue does not portray a man seventy-six
years old. Distinguished as Poggio was, his nature did not endear him
greatly to the Florentine churchmen; and, finally, the style of the
sculpture predicates its execution between 1420 and 1430. We can, of
course, admit that Poggio's features may have been recognised in the
statue, and that it soon came to be considered his portrait. In any
case, however, we are dealing with a portrait-statue. The keen and
almost cynical face, with its deep and powerful lines, is certainly no
creation of the fancy, but the study of somebody whom Donatello knew.
It is true there are contradictions in the physiognomy: sarcasm and
benevolence alternate, as the dominating expression of the man's
character. The whole face is marked by the refinement of one from whom
precision and niceness of judgment would be expected. It is not
altogether what Poggio's achievements would lead one to expect;
neither is it of a type which, as has been suggested, would allow us
to call it the missing Joshua. The idea that Job may be the subject is
too ingenious to receive more than a passing reference.[9]
[Footnote 8: Semper, I., p. 132.]
[Footnote 9: Schmarsow, p. 10.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
POGGIO
CATHEDRAL, FLORENCE]
There is one detail in the statue of Poggio which raises a problem
familiar to students of fifteenth-century art, especially frequent in
paintings of the Madonna, namely, the cryptic lettering to be found on
the borders of garments. In the case of Poggio, the hem of the tunic
just below the throat is incised with deep and clear cyphers which
cannot be read as a name or initials. Many cases could be quoted to
illustrate the practice of giving only the first letters of words
forming a sentence.[10] In this case the script is not Arabic, as on
Verrocchio's David. The lettering on the Poggio, as on Donatello's
tomb of Bishop Pecci at Siena and elsewhere, has not been
satisfactorily explained. Even if painters were in the habit of
putting conventional symbols on their pictures in the form of
inscriptions, it is not likely that this careful and elaborate carving
should be meaningless. The solution may possibly be found in Vettorio
Ghiberti's drawing of a bell, the rim of which is covered with similar
hieroglyphics. The artist has transcribed in plain writing a pleasant
Latin motto which one may presume to be the subject of the
inscription. If this were accurately deciphered a clue might be found
to unravel this obscure problem.[11]
[Footnote 10: The conclusion of Dello's epitaph, as recorded by
Vasari, is H.S.E.S.T.T.L.--_i.e._, _Hic sepultus est, sit tibi terra
levis_. The bas-relief of Faith in the Bargello is signed O.M.C.L.,
_i.e._, _Opus Mattæi Civitali Lucensis_. There is a manuscript of St.
Jerome in the Rylands Library at Manchester in which long texts are
quoted by means of the initial letters alone.]
[Footnote 11: MS. Sketch-Book in Bibl. Naz., Florence, lettered
"Ghiberti," folio 51a.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
MOCENIGO TOMB
SAN GIOVANNI E PAOLO, VENICE]
Closely analogous to the statue which we must continue to call Poggio
is a striking figure of Justice surmounting the tomb of Tommaso
Mocenigo in the Church of San Giovanni e Paolo at Venice. Mocenigo
died in 1423, and the tomb was made by two indifferent Florentine
artists, whose poor and imitative work must be referred to later on in
connection with the St. George. But the Justice, a vigorous and
original figure, holding a scroll and looking downwards, so absolutely
resembles the Poggio in conception, attitude, and fall of drapery,
that the authorship must be referred to Donatello himself. It is
certainly no copy. One cannot say how this isolated piece of
Donatello's work should have found its way to Venice, although by 1423
Donatello's reputation had secured him commissions for Orvieto and
Ancona and Siena. But it is not necessary to suppose that this Justice
was made to order for the Mocenigo tomb; had it remained in Florence
it would have been long since accepted as a genuine example of the
master.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST
CATHEDRAL, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: St. John the Evangelist and the marble David.]
The third great statue made for the façade by Donatello is now placed
in a dark apsidal chapel, where the light is so bad that the figure is
often invisible. This is the statue of St. John the Evangelist, and is
much earlier than Poggio, having been ordered on December 12, 1408.
Two evangelists were to be placed on either side of the central door.
Nanni di Banco was to make St. Luke, Niccolo d'Arezzo St. Mark, and
it was intended that the fourth figure should be entrusted to the most
successful of the three sculptors; but in the following year the
Domopera changed their plan, giving the commission for St. Matthew to
Bernardo Ciuffagni, a sculptor somewhat older than Donatello.
Ciuffagni was not unpopular as an artist, for he received plenty of
work in various parts of Italy; but he was a man of mediocre talent,
neither archaic nor progressive, making occasional failures and
exercising little influence for good or ill upon those with whom he
came in contact. He has, however, one valued merit, that of being a
man about whom we have a good deal of documentary information.
Donatello worked on the St. John for nearly seven years, and,
according to custom, was under obligation to complete the work within
a specified time. Penalty clauses used to be enforced in those days.
Jacopo della Quercia ran the danger of imprisonment for neglecting the
commands of Siena. Torrigiano having escaped from England was recalled
by the help of Ricasoli, the Florentine resident in London, and was
fortunate to avoid punishment. Donatello finished his statue in time,
and received his final instalment in 1415, the year in which the
figures were set up beside the great Porch. This evangelist, begun
when Donatello was twenty-two and completed before his thirtieth year,
challenges comparison with one worthy rival, the Moses of Michael
Angelo. The Moses was the outcome of many years of intermittent
labour, and was created by the help of all the advances made by
sculpture during a century of progress. Yet in one respect only can
Michael Angelo claim supremacy. Hitherto Donatello had made nothing
but standing figures. The St. John sits; he is almost inert, and does
not seem to await the divine message. But how superb it is, this
majestic calm and solemnity; how Donatello triumphs over the lack of
giving tension to what is quiescent! The Penseroso also sits and
meditates, but every muscle of the reposing limbs is alert. So, too,
in the Moses, with all its exaggeration and melodrama, with its aspect
of frigid sensationalism, which led Thackeray to say he would not like
to be left alone in the room with it, we find every motionless limb
imbued with vitality and the essentials of movement. The Moses
undoubtedly springs from the St. John, transcending it as Beethoven
surpassed Haydn. In spite of nearly unpardonable faults verging on
decadence, it is the greater though the less pleasing creation of the
two. The St. John surveys the world; the Moses speaks with God.
[Illustration: _Alinari_
MARBLE DAVID
BARGELLO, FLORENCE]
The fourth statue made for the Cathedral proper is contemporary with
the St. John. The marble David, ordered in 1408 and completed in 1416,
was destined for a chapel inside the church. The Town Commissioners,
however, sent a somewhat peremptory letter to the Domopera and the
statue was handed over to them. It was placed in the great hall of the
Palace, was ultimately removed to the Uffizzi, and is now in the
Bargello Museum. The David certainly has a secular look. This ruddy
youth of a fair countenance, crowned with a wreath, stands in an
attitude which is shy and perhaps awkward, and by his feet lies the
head of Goliath with the smooth stone from the brook deeply embedded
in his forehead. The drapery of the tunic is close fitting, moulded
exactly to the lines of his frame, and above it a loose cloak hangs
over the shoulders and falls to the ground with a corner of cloth
looped over one of the wrists in a familiar way.[12] It would be
idle to pretend that the David is a marked success like the St. John.
It neither attains an ideal, as in the St. George, nor is it a
profound interpretation of character like the Habbakuk or Jeremiah.
Its effect is impaired by this sense of compromise and uncertainty. It
is one of the very rare cases in which Donatello hesitated between
divergent aims and finally translated his doubts into marble.
[Footnote 12: _Cf._ Madame André's prophet and figures on Mandorla
door.]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Statues of the Campanile.]
We must now refer to a group of statues which adorn the Campanile, the
great Bell tower designed by Giotto for the Cathedral. Not counting
the numerous reliefs, there are sixteen statues in all, four on each
side of the tower, and in themselves they epitomise early Florentine
sculpture. Donatello's statues of Jeremiah, Abraham, and St. John the
Baptist offer no difficulties of nomenclature, but the Zuccone and the
Habbakuk are so called on hypothetical grounds. The Zuccone has been
called by this familiar nickname from time immemorial: bald-head or
pumpkin--such is the meaning of the word, and nobody has hitherto
given a reasoned argument to identify this singular figure with any
particular prophet. As early as 1415 Donatello received payment for
some of this work, and the latest record on the subject is dated 1435.
We may therefore expect to find some variety in idea and considerable
development in technique during these twenty years. Donatello was not
altogether single-handed. It is certain that by the time these
numerous works were being executed he was assisted by scholars, and
the Abraham was actually made in collaboration with Giovanni di
Bartolo, surnamed Il Rosso. It is not easy to discriminate between the
respective shares of the partners. Giovanni was one of those men whose
style varied with the dominating influence of the moment. At Verona he
almost ceased to be Florentine: at Tolentino he was himself; working
for the Campanile he was subject to the power of Donatello. The
Prophet Obadiah, which corresponds in position to the St. John Baptist
of Donatello on the western face of the tower, shows Rosso to have
been a correct and painstaking sculptor, with notions much in advance
of Ciuffagni's; noticeable also for a refinement in the treatment of
hands, in which respect many of his rivals lagged far behind. Judging
from the inscription at Verona, Rosso was appreciated by others--or by
himself:[13] he is, in fact, an artist of merit, rarely falling below
a respectable average in spite of the frequency with which he changed
his style.
[Footnote 13: On the Brenzoni tomb in the Church of San Fermo: "Quem
genuit Russi Florentia Tusca Johañis: istud sculpsit opus ingeniosa
manus."]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: St. John the Baptist.]
Rosso does not compare favourably with Donatello. Obadiah is less
attractive than St. John the Baptist, its _pendant_. The test is
admittedly severe, for the St. John is a figure remarkable alike in
conception and for its technical skill. Were it not for the scroll
bearing the "Ecce Agnus Dei," we should not suggest St. John as the
subject. Donatello made many Baptists--boys, striplings and men young
and mature: but in this case only have we something bright and
cheerful. He is no mystic; he differs fundamentally from the gloomy
ascetic and the haggard suffering figures in Siena and Berlin. So far
from being morose in appearance, clad in raiment of camel's hair, fed
upon locusts and wild honey, and summoning the land of Judæa to
repent, we have a vigorous young Tuscan, well dressed and well fed,
standing in an easy and graceful attitude and not without a tinge of
pride in the handsome countenance. In short, the statue is by no means
typical of the Saint. It would more aptly represent some romantic
knight of chivalry, a Victor, a Maurice--even a St. George. It
competes with Donatello's own version of St. George. In all essentials
they are alike, and the actual figures are identical in gesture and
pose, disregarding shield and armour in one case, scroll and drapery
in the other. The two figures are so analogous, that as studies from
the nude they would be almost indistinguishable. They differ in this:
that the Saint on the Campanile is John the Baptist merely because we
are told so, while the figure made for Or San Michele is inevitably
the soldier saint of Christendom. It must not be inferred that the
success of plastic, skill less that of pictorial, art depends upon the
accuracy or vividness with which the presentment "tells its story."
Under such a criterion the most popular work of art would necessarily
bear the palm of supremacy. But there should be some relation between
the statue and the subject-matter. Nobody knew this better than
Donatello: he seldom incurred the criticism directed against Myron the
sculptor--_Animi sensus non expressisse videtur_.[14] The occasional
error, such as that just noticed, or when he gives Goliath the head of
a mild old gentleman,[15] merely throws into greater prominence the
usual harmony between his conception and its embodiment. The task of
making prophets was far from simple. Their various personalities,
little known in our time, were conjectural in his day: neither would
the conventional scroll of the prophet do more than give a generic
indication of the kind of person represented. Donatello, however, made
a series of figures from which the [Greek: êthos] of the prophets
emanates with unequalled force.
[Footnote 14: Pliny, xxxiv. 19, 3.]
[Footnote 15: Bargello David.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
JEREMIAH
CAMPANILE, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: Jeremiah and the Canon of Art.]
The Jeremiah, for instance, which is in the niche adjacent to the
still more astonishing Zuccone (looking westwards towards the
Baptistery), is a portrait study of consummate power. It is the very
man who wrote the sin of Judah with a pen of iron, the man who was
warned not to be dismayed at the faces of those upon whose folly he
poured the vials of anger and scorn; he is emphatically one of those
who would scourge the vices of his age. And yet this Jeremiah has his
human aspect. The strong jaw and tightly closed lips show a decision
which might turn to obstinacy; but the brow overhangs eyes which are
full of sympathy, bearing an expression of sorrow and gentleness such
as one expects from the man who wept for the miserable estate of
Jerusalem--_Quomodo sedet sola civitas!_
Tradition says that this prophet is a portrait of Francesco Soderini,
the opponent of the Medici; while the Zuccone is supposed to be the
portrait of Barduccio Cherichini, another anti-Medicean partisan.
Probabilities apart, much could be urged against the attributions,
which are really on a par with the similar nomenclatures of Manetti
and Poggio. The important thing is that they are undoubted
portraits, their identity being of secondary interest; the fact that a
portrait was made at all is of far greater moment to the history of
art. Later on, Savonarola (whose only contribution to art was an
unconscious inspiration of the charming woodcuts with which his
sermons and homilies were illustrated) protested warmly against the
prevailing habit of giving Magdalen and the Baptist the features of
living and well-known townsfolk.[16] The practice had, no doubt, led
to scandal. But with Donatello it marks an early stage in emancipation
from the bondage of conventionalism. Not, indeed, that Donatello was
the absolute innovator in this direction, though it is to his efforts
that the change became irresistible. Thus in these portrait-prophets
we find the proof of revolution. The massive and abiding art of Egypt
ignored the personality of its gods and Pharaohs, distinguishing the
various persons by dress, ornament, and attribute. They had their
canon of measurement, of which the length of the nose was probably the
unit.[17] The Greeks, who often took the length of the human foot as
unit, were long enslaved by their canon. Convention made them adhere
to a traditional face after they had made themselves masters of the
human form. The early figures of successful athletes were
conventional; but, according to Pliny, when somebody was winner three
times the statue was actually modelled from his person, and was called
a portrait-figure: "_ex membris ipsorum similitudine expressa, quas
iconicas vocant!_" Not until Lysistratus first thought of reproducing
the human image by means of a cast from the face itself, did they get
the true portrait in place of their previous efforts to secure
generalised beauty.[18] In fact, their canon was so stringent that it
would permit an Apollo Belvedere to be presented by foppish,
well-groomed adolescence, with plenty of vanity but with little
strength, and altogether without the sign-manual of godhead or
victory. Despite shortcomings, Donatello seldom made the mistake of
merging the subject in the artist's model: he did not forget that the
subject of his statue had a biography. He had no such canon. Italian
painting had been under the sway of Margaritone until Giotto destroyed
the traditional system. Early Italian coins show how convention breeds
a canon--they were often depraved survivals of imperial coins, copied
and recopied by successive generations until the original meaning had
completely vanished, while the semblance remained in debased outline.
Nothing can be more fatal than to make a canon of art, to render
precise and exact the laws of æsthetics. Great men, it is true, made
the attempt. Leonardo, for instance, gives the recipe for drawing
anger and despair. His "Trattato della Pintura"[19] describes the
gestures appropriate for an orator addressing a multitude, and he
gives rules for making a tempest or a deluge. He had a scientific law
for putting a battle on to canvas, one condition of which was that
"there must not be a level spot which is not trampled with gore." But
Leonardo da Vinci did no harm; his canon was based on literary rather
than artistic interests, and he was too wise to pay much attention to
his own rules. Another man who tried to systematise art was Leon
Battista Alberti, who gave the exact measurements of ideal beauty,
length and circumference of limbs, &c., thus approaching a physical
canon. The absurdity of these theories is well shown in the "Rules of
Drawing Caricatures," illustrated by "mathematical diagrams."[20]
Development and animation are impossible wherever an art is governed
by this sterile and deadening code of law. The religious art of the
Eastern Church has been stationary for centuries, confined within the
narrow limits of hieratic conventions. Mount Athos has the pathetic
interest of showing the dark ages surviving down to our own day in the
vigour of unabated decadence. Though not subjected to any serious
canon, the predecessors of Donatello seemed at one time in danger of
becoming conventionalised. But Donatello would not permit his art to
be divorced from appeals to reason and intellect; once started, his
theory held its own. Donatello was bound by no laws; with all its
cadence and complexity his art was unsuited to a canon as would be the
art of music. He seems almost to have disregarded the ordinary
physical limitations under which he worked. He had no "cant of
material," and whether in stone, bronze, wood, or clay, he went
straight ahead in the most unconcerned manner.
[Footnote 16: In 1496. See Gruyer, "Les Illustrations," 1879, p. 206.]
[Footnote 17: C. Müller, "Ancient Art and its Remains," p. 227.]
[Footnote 18: Pliny, xxxvi. 44.]
[Footnote 19: Printed in Richter's "Literary Works of Leonardo da
Vinci," vol. i.]
[Footnote 20: By Francis Grose, the Antiquary. London, 1788.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
HABAKKUK
CAMPANILE, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: Habbakuk and the Sense of Distance.]