Michael, which stood within the _orto_, the garden named after the
saint. The church was, however, removed in the thirteenth century and
was replaced by an open _loggia_, which was used for a corn market and
store. In the following century the open arches of the _loggia_ were
built up, again making a church of the building, in which a venerated
Madonna, for which Orcagna made the tabernacle, was preserved. The
companies and merchant guilds of Florence undertook to present statues
to decorate the external niches of the building. Besides Donatello,
Ghiberti, Verrocchio, Gian Bologna and Nanni di Banco were employed;
and there are also some admirable medallions by Luca della Robbia.
Donatello made four statues--St. Peter, St. Mark, St. Louis and St.
George. He was to have made St. Phillip as well, but the shoemakers
who ordered the statue could not afford to pay Donatello's price and
the work was entrusted to Nanni di Banco. Two only of Donatello's
statues are left at Or San Michele, the St. Louis being now in Santa
Croce, while the St. George has been placed in the Bargello. All these
statues were put into niches of which the base is not more than eight
feet from the ground, and being intended to be seen at a short
distance are carved with greater attention to detail and finish than
is the case with the prophets on the Campanile. St. Peter is probably
the earliest in date, having been made, judging from stylistic
grounds, between 1407 and 1412. This statue shows a doubt and
hesitation which did not affect Donatello when making the little
prophets for the Mandorla door. The head is commonplace and
inexpressive; the pose is dull, and the drapery with its crimped edges
ignores the right leg. There is, however, nothing blameworthy in the
statue, but, on the other hand, there is nothing showing promise or
deserving praise. Had it been made by one of the _macchinisti_ of the
time it would have lived in decent obscurity without provoking
comment. In fact the statue does not owe its appearance in critical
discussions to its own merits, but to the later achievement of the
sculptor. Thus only can one explain Bocchi's opinion that "living man
could not display truer deportment than we find in the St. Peter."[30]
One of the figures from the Cathedral façade now in the Louvre, an
apostle or doctor of the Church, shows whence Donatello derived his
prosy idea, though the St. Peter is treated in a less archaic manner.
The St. Mark is much more successful: there is conviction as well as
vigour and greater skill. Michael Angelo exclaimed that nobody could
disbelieve the Gospel when preached by a saint whose countenance is
honesty itself. The very drapery--_il prudente costume e
religioso_--[31] was held to contribute to Michael Angelo's praise.
The grave and kindly face, devout and holy,[32] together with a
certain homeliness of attitude, give the St. Mark a character which
would endear him to all. He would not inspire awe like the St. John or
indifference like St. Peter. He is a very simple, lovable person whose
rebuke would be gentle and whose counsel would be wise. In 1408 the
_Linaiuoli_, the guild of linen-weavers, gave their order to select
the marble, and in 1411 the commission was given to Donatello, having
been previously given to Niccolo d'Arezzo, who himself became one of
Donatello's guarantors. The work had to be finished within eighteen
months, and the heavy statue was to be placed in the niche at the
sculptor's own risk. The statement made by Vasari that Brunellesco
co-operated on the St. Mark is not borne out by the official
documents. It is interesting to note that the guild gave Donatello the
height of the figure, leaving him to select the corresponding
proportions. The statue was to be gilded and decorated.[33] A further
commission was given to two stone-masons for the niche, which was to
be copied from that of Ghiberti's St. Stephen. These niches have been
a good deal altered in recent times, and the statues are in
consequence less suited to their environment than was formerly the
case. Judging from the plates in Lasinio's book, the accuracy of which
has not been contested, it appears that the niches of St. Eligius and
St. Mark have been made more shallow, while the crozier of the former
and the key in St. Peter's hand are not shown at all, and must be
modern restorations.
[Footnote 30: Cinelli ed., p. 66.]
[Footnote 31: Bocchi, 1765 ed., p. 128.]
[Footnote 32: _Spira il volto divozione e Santità_, Cinelli, p. 66.]
[Footnote 33: Gualandi, "Memorie," Series 4, p. 106.]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: St. Louis.]
The St. Louis is made of bronze. The reputation of this admirable
figure has been prejudiced by a ridiculous bit of gossip seriously
recorded by Vasari, to the effect that, having been reproached for
making a clumsy figure, Donatello replied that he had done so with set
purpose to mark the folly of the man who exchanged the crown for a
friar's habit. Vasari had to enliven his biographies by anecdotes, and
their authenticity was not always without reproach. In view of his
immense services to the history of art one will gladly forgive these
pleasantries; but it is deplorable when they are solemnly quoted as
infallible. One author says: "... _impossibile a guardare quel goffo e
disgraziato San Lodovico senza sentire una stretta al cuore_." This is
preposterous. The statue has faults, but they do not spring from
organic error. The Bishop is overweighted with his thick vestments,
and his mitre is rather too broad for the head; the left hand,
moreover, is big and Donatellesque. But the statue, now placed high
above the great door of Santa Croce, is seen under most unfavourable
conditions, and would look infinitely better in the low niche of Or
San Michele. Its proportions would then appear less stumpy, and we
would then be captivated by the beauty of the face. It has real
"beauty"; the hackneyed and misused term can only be properly applied
to Donatello's work in very rare cases, of which this is one. The face
itself is taken from some model, which could be idealised to suit a
definite conception, and in which the pure and symmetrical lines are
harmonised with admirable feeling. Every feature is made to
correspond, interrelated by some secret necessary to the art of
portraiture. The broad brow and the calm eyes looking upwards are in
relation with the delicately chiselled nose and mouth, while the right
hand, which is outstretched in giving the blessing, is rendered with
infinite sentiment and grace. St. Louis, in short, deserves high
commendation, as, in spite of errors, it achieves something to which
Donatello seldom aspired; and it has the further interest of being his
earliest figure in bronze, a material in which some of his most
renowned works were executed. The whole question of Donatello's share
in the actual casting will be considered at a later stage. It will be
enough to say at this point that the St. Louis, which was probably
finished about 1425, was cast with the assistance of Michelozzo.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
ST. GEORGE
IN NICHE ON OR SAN MICHELE]
[Sidenote: St. George.]
The St. George is the most famous of Donatello's statues, and is
generally called his masterpiece. The marble original has now been
taken into the Museum, and a bronze cast replaces it at Or San
Michele. The cause of this transfer is understood to be a fear that
the statue would be ruined by exposure, although one would think that
this would apply still more to the exquisite relief, which remains _in
situ_, though unprotected by the niche. In the side-lighted Bargello,
the St. George is crowded into a shallow niche (with plenty of highly
correct detail) and is seen to the utmost disadvantage; but no
incongruity of surroundings, no false relations of light can destroy
the profound impression left by this statue, which was probably
completed about 1416, in Donatello's thirtieth year. Vasari was
enthusiastic in its praise. Bocchi wrote a whole book about it,[34] in
which we might expect to find valuable information; but the interest
of this ecstatic eulogy is limited. Bocchi gives no dates, facts or
authorities; nothing to which modern students can turn for accurate or
specific knowledge of Donatello. Cinelli says the St. George was held
equal to the rarest sculpture of Rome,[35] and well it might be. The
St. George was made for the Guild of Armourers; he is, of course,
wearing armour, and the armour fits him, clothes him. It is not the
clumsy inelastic stuff which must have prevented so many soldiers from
moving a limb or mounting a horse. In this case the lithe and muscular
frame is free and full of movement, quite unimpeded by the defensive
plates of steel. He stands upright, his legs rather apart, and the
shield in front of him, otherwise he is quite unarmed; the St. George
in the niche is alert and watchful: in the bas-relief he manfully
slays the dragon. The head is bare and the throat uncovered; the face
is full of confidence and the pride of generous strength, but with no
vanity or self-consciousness. Fearless simplicity is his chief
attribute, though in itself simplicity is no title to greatness: with
Donatello, Sophocles and Dante would be excluded from any category of
greatness based on simplicity alone. St. George has that earnest and
outspoken simplicity with which the mediæval world invested its
heroes; he springs from the chivalry of the early days of Christian
martyrdom, the greatest period of Christian faith. Greek art had no
crusader or knight-errant, and had to be content with Harmodius and
Aristogeiton. Even the Perseus legend, which in so many ways reminds
one of St. George, was far less appreciated as an incident by
classical art than by the Renaissance; and even then not until patron
and artist were growing tired of St. George. M. Reymond has pointed
out the relation of Donatello's statue to its superb analogue, St.
Theodore of Chartres Cathedral. "_C'est le souvenir de tout un monde
qui disparaît._"[36] Physically it may be so. The age of chivalry may
be passed in so far that the prancing steed and captive Princess
belong to remote times which may never recur. But St. George and St.
Theodore were not merely born of legend and fairy tale; their spirit
may survive in conditions which, although less romantic and
picturesque, may still preserve intact the essential qualities of the
soldier-saint of primitive times. The influence of the St. George upon
contemporary art seems to have been small. The Mocenigo tomb, which
has already been mentioned, has a figure on the sarcophagus obviously
copied from the St. George; and elsewhere in this extremely curious
example of plagiarism we find other figures suggested by Donatello's
statues. The little figure in the Palazzo Pubblico at Pistoja is
again an early bit of piracy. In the courtyard of the Palazzo
Quaratesi in Florence, built by Brunellesco between 1425 and 1430, an
early version of the head of St. George was placed in one of the
circular panels above the pillars. It is without intrinsic importance,
being probably a cast, but it shows how early the statue was
appreciated. A more important cast is that of the bas-relief now in
London, which has a special interest from having been taken before the
original had suffered two or three rather grievous blows.[37]
Verrocchio made a drawing of the St. George,[38] and Mantegna
introduced a similar figure into his picture of St. James being led to
execution.[39] But Donatello's influence cannot be measured by the
effect of St. George. In this particular case his work did not
challenge competition; its perfection was too consummate to be of
service except to the copyist. In some ways it spoke the last word;
closed an episode in the history of art--[Greek: eschatos tou idiou
genous].
[Footnote 34: "Eccelenza della Statua del San Giorgio di Donatello,"
1571.]
[Footnote 35: Bellezze, 1677, p. 67.]
[Footnote 36: "La Sculpture Florentine," vol. ii. p. 91.]
[Footnote 37: Victoria and Albert Museum, 7607, 1861.]
[Footnote 38: Uffizzi, frame 49.]
[Footnote 39: Eremitani, Padua, about 1448-50.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
ST. GEORGE
BARGELLO]
[Sidenote: Donatello and Gothic Art.]
The relation of St. George and other Italian works of this period,
both in sculpture and painting, to the Gothic art of France cannot be
ignored, although no adequate explanation has yet been given. St.
George, the Baptists of the Campanile and in Rome, and the marble
David are intensely Franco-Gothic, and precisely what one would expect
to find in France. The technical and physical resemblance between the
two schools may, of course, be a coincidence; it may be purely
superficial. But St. Theodore might well take his place outside Or
San Michele, while the St. George (in spite of the difference in date)
would be in complete ethical harmony with the statues on the portals
of Chartres. Even if they cannot be analysed, the phenomena must be
stated. Donatello may have spontaneously returned to the principles
which underlay the creation of the great statuary of France, the
country of all others where a tremendous school had flourished. But
what these fundamental principles were it is impossible to determine.
It is true there had always been agencies at work which must have
familiarised Italy with French thought and ideas. From the time of the
dominant French influence in Sicily down to the Papal exile in
France--which ended actually while Donatello was working on these
statues, one portion or another of the two countries had been
frequently brought into contact. The Cistercians, for instance, had
been among the most persistent propagators of Gothic architecture in
Italy, though nearly all their churches (of which the ground-plans are
sometimes identical with those of French buildings) are situated in
remote country districts of Italy, and being inaccessible are little
known or studied nowadays. France, however, was herself full of
Italian teachers and churchmen, who may have brought back Northern
ideas of art, for they certainly left small traces of their influence
on the French until later on; their presence, at any rate, records
intercourse between the two countries. A concrete example of the
relation between the two national arts is afforded by the fact that
Michelozzo was the son of a Burgundian who settled in Florence.
Michelozzo was some years younger than Donatello, and it is therefore
quite out of the question to assume that the St. George could have
been due to his influence: he was too young to give Donatello more
than technical assistance. In this connection one must remember that
French Gothic, though manifested in its architecture, was of deeper
application, and did not confine its spirit to the statuary made for
the tall elongated lines of its cathedrals. What we call Gothic
pervaded everything, and was not solely based on physical forms.
Indeed, whatever may be the debt of Italian sculpture to French
influence, the Gothic architecture of Italy excluded some of the chief
principles of the French builders. It was much more liberal and more
fond of light and air. Speaking of the exaggerated type of Gothic
architecture, in which everything is heightened and thinned, Renan
asks what would have happened to Giotto if he had been told to paint
his frescoes in churches from which flat spaces had entirely
disappeared. "Once we have exhausted the grand idea of infinity which
springs from its unity, we realise the shortcomings of this egoistic
and jealous architecture, which only exists for itself and its own
ends, _régnant dans le désert_."[40] The churches of Umbria and
Tuscany were as frames in which space was provided for all the arts;
where fresco and sculpture could be welcomed with ample scope for
their free and unencumbered display. Donatello was never hampered or
crowded by the architecture of Florence; he was never obliged, like
his predecessors in Picardy and Champagne, to accommodate the gesture
and attitude of his statue to stereotyped positions dictated by the
architect. His opportunity was proportionately greater, and it only
serves to enhance our admiration for the French sculptors. In spite of
difficulties not of their own making, they were able to create, with a
coarser material and in a less favourable climate, what was perhaps
the highest achievement ever attained by monumental sculpture. The
Italians soon came to distrust Gothic architecture. It was never quite
indigenous, and they were afraid of this "German" transalpine art.
Vasari attacks "_Questa maledizione di fabbriche_," with their
"_tabernacolini l'un sopra l'altro, ... che hanno ammorbato il
mondo_."[41] One would expect the denunciation of Milizia to be still
more severe. But he admits that "_fra tante monstruosità
l'architettura gottica ha alcune bellezze_."[42] Elsewhere mentioning
the architect of the Florentine Cathedral (while regretting how long
the _corrotto gusto_ survived), he says, "_In questo architetto si
vede qualche barlume di buona architettura, come di pittura in Cimabue
suo contemporaneo_."[43] He detects some glimmer of good architecture.
Sir Joshua Reynolds was cautious: "Under the rudeness of Gothic
essays, the artist will find original, rational, and even sublime
inventions."[44] It should be remembered that the word _Tedesca_, as
applied to Gothic art, meant more than German, and could be almost
translated by Northern. Italians from the lakes and the Valtellina
were called _Tedeschi_, and Italy herself was inhabited by different
peoples who were constantly at war, and who did not always understand
each other's dialects. Dante said the number of variations was
countless.[45] Alberti, who lived north of the Apennines during his
boyhood, took lessons in Tuscan before returning to Florence. The word
_Forestiere_, now meaning foreigner, was applied in those days to
people living outside the province, sometimes even to those living
outside the town. Thus we have a record of the cost of making a
provisional altar to display Donatello's work at Padua--"_per
demonstrar el desegno ai forestieri_."[46] No final definition of
Gothic art, of the _maniera tedesca_ is possible. Some of its
component parts have been enumerated: rigidity, grotesque, naturalism,
and so forth; but the definition is incomplete, cataloguing the
effects without analysing their cause. Whether Donatello was
influenced by the ultimate cause or not, he certainly assimilated some
of the effects. The most obvious example of the Gothic feeling which
permeated this child of the Renaissance, is his naturalistic
portrait-statues. Donatello found the form, some passing face or
figure in the street, and rapidly impressed it with his ideal.
Raffaelle found his ideal, and waited for the bodily form wherewith to
clothe it. "In the absence of good judges and handsome women"--that is
to say, models, he paused, as he said in one of his letters to
Castiglione. One feels instinctively that with his Gothic bias
Donatello would not have minded. He did not ask for applause, and at
the period of St. George classical ideas had not introduced the
professional artist's model. Life was still adequate, and the only
model was the subject in hand. The increasing discovery of classical
statuary and learning made the later sculptors distrust their own
interpretation of the bodily form, which varied from the primitive
examples. Thus they lost conviction, believing the ideal of the
classicals to surpass the real of their own day. The result was
Bandinelli and Montorsoli, whose world was inhabited by pompous
fictions. They neither attained the high character of the great
classical artists nor the single-minded purpose of Donatello. Their
ideal was based on the unrealities of the Baroque.
[Footnote 40: "Mélanges d'Histoire," p. 248.]
[Footnote 41: Introduction, i. 122.]
[Footnote 42: "Vita de' Architetti," 53.]
[Footnote 43: _Ibid._ 151.]
[Footnote 44: "Discourses," 1778, p. 237.]
[Footnote 45: "Qua propter si primas et secundarias et subsecundarias
vulgaris Ytalie variationes calculare velimus, in hoc minimo mundi
angulo, non solum ad millenam loquele variationem venire contigerit,
sed etiam at magis ultra."--De Vulg. Eloq. Lib., I., cap. x. § 8.]
[Footnote 46: 23, iv. 1448.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
ANNUNCIATION
SANTA CROCE, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: The Crucifix and Annunciation.]
Donatello loved to characterise: in one respect only did he typify.
Where there was most character there was often least beauty. This is
illustrated by two works in Santa Croce, the Christ on the Cross and
the Annunciation. They differ in date, material, and conception, but
may be considered together. As to the exact date of the former many
opinions have been expressed. Vasari places it about 1401, Manetti
about 1405, Schmarsow 1410, Cavalucci 1416, Bode 1431, Marcel Reymond
1430-40. It is quite obvious that the crucifix is the product of
rather a timid and uncertain technique, and does not show the verve
and decision which Donatello acquired so soon. It is made of olive
wood, and is covered by a shiny brown paint which may conceal a good
deal of detailed carving. The work is sober and decorous, and not
marred by any breach of good taste. It is in no sense remarkable, and
has nothing special to connect it with Donatello. Its notoriety
springs from a long and rather inconsequent story, which says that,
having made his Christ in rivalry with Brunellesco, who was occupied
on a similar work, Donatello was so much saddened at the superiority
of the other crucifix that he exclaimed: "You make the Christ while I
can only make a peasant: _a te è conceduto fare i Cristi, ed a me i
contadini_".[47] Brunellesco's crucifix,[48] now hidden behind a
portentous array of candles, is even less attractive than that in
Santa Croce. Brunellesco was the aristocrat, the builder of haughty
palaces for haughty men, and may have really thought his cold and
correct idea superior to Donatello's peasant. To have thought of
taking a contadino for his type (disappointing as it was to Donatello)
was in itself a suggestive and far-reaching departure from the earlier
treatment of the subject. In the fourteenth century Christ on the
Cross had been treated with more reserve and in a less naturalistic
fashion. The traditional idea disappeared after these two Christs,
which are among the earliest of their kind, afterwards produced all
over Italy in such numbers. As time went on the figure of Christ
received more emphasis, until it became the vehicle for exhibiting
those painful aspects of death from which no divine message of
resurrection could be inferred. The big crucifix ascribed to
Michelozzo shows how far exaggeration could be carried.[49] The opened
mouth, the piteous expression, the clots of blood falling from the
wounds, combine to make a figure which is repellent, and which lost
all justification, from the fact that this tortured dying man shows no
conviction of divine life to come. Donatello's bronze crucifix at
Padua, made years afterwards, showed that he never forgot that a dying
Christ must retain to the last the impress of power and superhuman
origin. In the conflict of drama and beauty, Donatello allowed drama
to gain the upper hand. But the Annunciation would suggest a different
answer, for here we find what is clearly a sustained effort to secure
beauty. The Annunciation is a large relief, in which the angel and the
Virgin are placed within an elaborately carved frame, while on the
cornice above there are six children holding garlands. Its date has
been the subject of even more discussion than that of the
Crucifix,[50] and the conflict of opinion has been so keen that the
intrinsic merits of this remarkable work have been sometimes
overlooked. The date is, of course, important for the classification
of Donatello's work, but it is a pity when the attention of the critic
is monopolised by minor problems. Milizia, when in doubt about the
date of Alberti's birth, did not go too far in saying "_disgrazia
grande per chi si trova la sua felicità nelle date_." The Annunciation
was erected by the Cavalcanti family, and the old theory that it was
ordered to commemorate their share in the victory over Pisa in 1406
has been upheld by the presence on the lower frieze of a winged
wreath, an emblem of victory. The object of the donor is conjectural:
we know nothing about it; and the association of wings and a wreath is
found elsewhere in Donatello's work.[51] Moreover, the rich
Renaissance decoration is quite sufficient to demonstrate that the
work must be much later than 1406, though whether immediately before
or after the second Roman visit must be founded on hypothesis. The
precise date of the particular decoration is too nebular to permit any
exact statement on the subject. There was never any line of
demarcation between one school and another. One can find Gothic ideas
long after the Renaissance had established its principles,[52] while
the period of transition lasted so long, especially in the smaller
towns, that the old and new schools often flourished concurrently.
This relief is made of Pietra Serena, of a delicate bluish tint, very
charming to work in, according to Cellini, though without the
durability needed for statues placed out of doors.[53] It has been
enriched with a most lavish hand and there is no part of the work
without sumptuous decoration. The base, with the central wreath, is
flanked by the Cavalcanti arms: above them rise two rectangular shafts
enclosing the relief on either side. These columns are carved with a
fretwork of leaves, and their capitals are formed of strongly
chiselled masks of a classical type, like those on the Or San Michele
niche. Above the shafts comes the plinth, which has a peculiar egg and
dart moulding, in its way ugly, and finally the whole thing is crowned
with a bow-shaped arch, upon which the six terra cotta _Putti_ are
placed, two at either extremity and the other pair lying along the
curved space in the centre;[54] the panelled background and the throne
are covered with arabesques. But this intricate wealth of decoration
does not distract attention from the main figures. The Virgin has just
risen from the chair, part of her dress still resting on the seat. Her
face and feet turn in different directions, thus giving a dualism to
the movement, an impression of surprise which is in itself a _tour de
force_. But there is nothing bizarre or far-fetched, and the general
idea one receives is that we have a momentary vision of the scene: we
intercept the message which is well rendered by the pose of the
angel, while its reception is acknowledged by the startled gesture of
the Virgin. "_È stupendo l'artifizio._"[55] The scheme is what one
would expect from Luca della Robbia. Nothing of the kind reappears in
Donatello's work, and the attainment of beauty as such is also beyond
the sphere of his usual ambition. Indeed, so widely does the
Annunciation differ from our notions about the artist, that it has
been recently suggested that Donatello was assisted in the work: while
some people doubt the attribution altogether. The idea that Michelozzo
should have done some of the actual carving may be well or ill
founded; in any case, no tangible argument has been advanced to
support the idea. Donatello's authorship is vouched for by Albertini,
who wrote long before Vasari, and whose notice about the works of art
in Florence is of great value.[56] But we have no standard of
comparison, and Donatello himself had to strike out a new line for his
new theme. The internal evidence in favour of Donatello must therefore
be sought in the accessories; and in architectural details which occur
elsewhere,[57] such as the big and somewhat incontinent hands, the
typical _putti_, and the rather heavy drapery. To this we may add the
authority of early tradition, the originality and strength of
treatment, and finally the practical impossibility of suggesting any
alternative sculptor.
[Footnote 47: Vasari, iii. 247.]
[Footnote 48: In the Capella Gondi, Santa Maria Novella.]
[Footnote 49: In San Giorgio Maggiore, Venice.]