Schmarsow, 1412. Bode, before the second journey to Rome in 1433.
Reymond, 1435.]
[Footnote 51: _E.g._, on the Or San Michele niche, round the Trinity.
Verrocchio also used it on his sketch model for the Forteguerri tomb,
Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 7599, 1861.]
[Footnote 52: _E.g._, Pacifico tomb about 1438 and the Francesco
Foscari tomb about 1457, both in the Frari.]
[Footnote 53: "Due Trattati di Benvenuto Cellini," ed. Carlo Milanesi,
1857. Ch. 6 on marble.]
[Footnote 54: _Cf._ _Putti_ on the Roman Tabernacle.]
[Footnote 55: Bocchi, p. 316.]
[Footnote 56: "Memoriale di molte statue e pitture della città di
Firenze," 1510.]
[Footnote 57: Or San Michele niche, San Lorenzo Evangelists.]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Martelli, David and Donatello's Technique.]
Tradition says that Ruberto Martelli was the earliest of Donatello's
patrons. So far as we know, there were two Rubertos: the elder was
seventy-three at the time of Donatello's birth, and must therefore
have been a nonagenarian before his patronage could be effectively
exercised; the other was twenty-two years younger than the sculptor,
whom he could not have helped as a young man. But there is no question
about the interest shown by the family in Donatello's work. The David
and the St. John, together with a portrait-bust and the coat of arms,
still show their practical appreciation of his work and Donatello's
gratitude to the family. Vasari is the first to mention these works,
and it must be remarked that Albertini, who paid great attention to
Donatello, mentions nothing but antique sculpture in the Martelli
palace. The David and the St. John Baptist are both in marble, and
were probably made between 1415 and 1425. The David, which was always
prized by the family, is shown in the background of Bronzino's
portrait of Ugolino Martelli.[58] It was then standing in the
courtyard of the palace, but was taken indoors in 1802 _per
intemperias_. The statue is not altogether a success. Its _allure_ is
good: but the anatomy is feminine, the type is soft and yielding; the
attitude is not spontaneous; and the head of Goliath, tucked
uncomfortable between the feet, is poor. There is a bronze statuette
in Berlin which has been considered a study for this figure, though it
is most unlikely that Donatello himself would have taken the trouble
to make bronze versions of his preparatory studies. The work, however,
is in all probability by Donatello, and most of the faults in the
marble statue being corrected, it may be later than the Martelli
figure, from which it also varies in several particulars. The
statuette is full of life and vigour, and the David is a sturdy
shepherd-boy who might well engage a lion or a bear. In one respect
the Martelli figure is of great importance. It is unfinished--the only
unfinished marble we have of the master, and it gives an insight into
the methods he employed. It is fortunate that we have some means of
understanding how Donatello gained his ends, although this statue does
not show him at his best; indeed it may have been abandoned because it
did not reach his expectations. However, we have nothing else to judge
by. The first criticism suggested by the David is that Donatello
betrays the great effort it cost him. Like the unfinished Faith by
Mino da Fiesole,[59] it is laboured and experimental. They set to work
hoping that later stages would enable them to rectify any error or
miscalculation, but both found they had gone too far. The material
would permit no such thing, and with all their skill one sees that the
blocks of marble did not unfold the statues which lay hidden within.
As hewers of stone, Donatello and Mino cannot compare with Michael
Angelo. Jacopo della Quercia alone had something of his genius of
material. Nobody left more "unfinished" work than Michael Angelo. The
Victory, the bust of Brutus, the Madonna and Child,[60] to mention a
few out of many, show clearly what his system was. In the statue of
Victory we see the three stages of development or completion. The
statue is _in_ the stone, grows out of it. The marble seems to be as
soft as soap, and Michael Angelo simply peels off successive strata,
apparently extracting a statue without the smallest effort. The three
grades are respectively shown in the rough-hewn head of the crouching
figure, then in the head of the triumphant youth above him, finally in
his completed torso. But each stage is finished relatively. Completion
is relative to distance; the Brutus is finished or unfinished
according to our standpoint, physical or æsthetic. Moreover, the
treatment is not partial or piecemeal; the statue was in the marble
from the beginning, and is an entity from its initial stage: in many
ways each stage is equally fine. The paradox of Michael Angelo's
technique is that his _abozzo_ is really a finished study. The Victory
also shows how the deep folds of drapery are bored preparatory to
being carved, in order that the chisel might meet less resistance in
the narrow spaces; this is also the case in the Martelli David. As a
technical adjunct boring was very useful, but only as a process. When
employed as a mechanical device to represent the hair of the head, we
get the Roman Empress disguised as a sponge or a honeycomb. These
tricks reveal much more than pure technicalities of art.
Gainsborough's habit of using paint brushes four or five feet long
throws a flood of light upon theory and practice alike. There is,
however, another work, possibly by Donatello himself, which gives no
insight into anything but technical methods, but which is none the
less important. This is the large Madonna and Child surrounded by
angels, belonging to Signor Bardini of Florence. It is unhappily a
complete wreck, five heads, including the Child's, having been broken
away. It is a relief in stucco, modelled, not cast, and is closely
allied with a group of Madonnas to which reference is made
hereafter.[61] We can see precisely how this relief was made. The
stucco adheres to a strong canvas, which in its turn is nailed on to a
wooden panel. The background, also much injured, is decorated with
mosaic and geometrical patterns of glass, now dim and opaque with age.
The relief must have been of signal merit. Complete it would have
rivalled the polychrome Madonna of the Louvre: as a fragment it is
quite sufficient to prove that the Piot Madonna, in the same museum,
is not authentic. One more trick of the sculptor remains to be
noticed. Vasari and Bocchi say that Donatello, recognising the value
of his work, grouped his figures so that the limbs and drapery should
offer few protruding angles, in order to minimise the danger of
fracture. It was his insurance against the fragility of the stone:
when working in bronze such precautions would be less necessary. It is
quite true that in the larger figures there is a marked restraint in
this respect, while in his bas-reliefs, where the danger was less, the
tendency to raise the arms above the head is often exaggerated. But
too much stress should not be laid upon this explanation: it is hard
to believe that Donatello would have let so crucial a matter be
governed by such a consideration. Speaking generally, Donatello was
neither more nor less restrictive than his Florentine contemporaries,
and it was only at a later period that the isolated statue received
perfect freedom, such as that in the Cellini Perseus, or the Mercury
by Gian Bologna, or Bernini's work in marble.
[Footnote 58: In the Berlin Gallery.]
[Footnote 59: Berlin Museum.]
[Footnote 60: All three in Bargello.]
[Footnote 61: See p. 185.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
SAN GIOVANNINO
PALAZZO MARTELLI, FLORENCE]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
ST. JOHN BAPTIST, MARBLE
BARGELLO]
[Sidenote: Early Figures of St. John.]
Another important statue in the Martelli palace is that of St. John
the Baptist. Besides being the earliest patron of Florence, St. John
was the titular saint of every Baptistery in the land. This accounts
for the frequency with which we find his statues and scenes from his
life, particularly in Tuscany. With Donatello he was to some extent a
speciality, and we can almost trace the sculptor's evolution in his
presentment of the Baptist, beginning with the chivalrous figure on
the Campanile and ending with the haggard ascetic of Venice. We have
St. John as a child in the Bargello, as a boy in Rome, as a stripling
in the Martelli palace. On the bell-tower he is grown up, in the Frari
he is growing older, and at Siena he is shown as old as Biblical
history would permit. The St. John in the Casa Martelli, _oltra tutti
singolare_,[62] was so highly prized that it was made an heirloom,
with penalties for such members of the family who disposed of it. This
St. John is a link between the Giovannino and the mature prophet. He
is, as it were, dazed, and sets forth upon his errand with
open-mouthed wonder. He has a strain of melancholy, and seems rather
weakly and hesitating. But there is no attempt after emaciation. The
limbs are well made, and as sturdy as one would expect, in view of the
unformed lines of the model: the hands also are good. As regards the
face, one notices that the nose and mouth are rather crooked, and that
the eyes diverge: not, indeed, that these defects are really
displeasing, since they are what one sometimes finds in living youth.
Another Baptist which has hitherto escaped attention is the small
marble figure, about four feet high, which stands in a niche over the
sacristy door of San Giovanni Fiorentino in Rome. It was placed there
a few years ago, when, owing to the prevalent mania of rebuilding, it
became necessary to demolish the little oratory on the Corso which
belonged to the Mother Church close by. The statue was scarcely seen
in its old home: how it got there is unknown. The church itself was
not founded by the Florentines until after Donatello's death, and this
statue looks as if it had been made before Donatello's visit to Rome
in 1433. But its authenticity cannot be questioned. We have the same
type as in the Martelli Baptist, with something of the Franco-Gothic
sentiment. This St. John is rather younger, a Giovannino, his thin
lithe figure draped with the camel-hair tunic which ends above the
knees. Hanging over the left shoulder is a long piece of drapery,
falling to the ground behind him, and giving support to the marble,
just as in the other Baptist. We have the open mouth, the curly hair
and the broad nostrils: in every way it is a typical work of the
sculptor. There are two other early Baptists, both in the Bargello.
The little relief in Pietra Serena[63] is a delightful rendering of
gentle boyhood. The modelling shows Donatello's masterful treatment of
the soft flesh and the tender muscles beneath it. Everything is
subordinated to his object of showing real boyhood with all the charm
of its imperfections. The head is shown in profile, thus enabling us
to judge the precise nature of all the features, each one of which
bears the imprint of callow _morbidezza_. Even the hair has the
dainty qualities of childhood: it has the texture of silk. It is a
striking contrast to the life-sized Baptist who has just reached
manhood. We see a St. John walking out into the desert. He looks
downward to the scroll in his hand, trudging forward with a hesitating
gait,--but only hesitating because he is not sure of his foothold, so
deeply is he absorbed in reading. It is a triumph of concentration.
Donatello has enlisted every agency that could intensify the oblivion
of the world around him. It is from this aloofness that the figure
leaves a detached and inhospitable impression. One feels instinctively
that this St. John would be friendless, for he has nothing to offer,
and asks no sympathy. There is no room for anybody else in his career,
and nobody can share his labours or mitigate his privations. In short,
there is no link between him and the spectator. Unless we interpret
the statue in this manner, it loses all interest--it never had any
beauty--and the St. John becomes a tiresome person with a pedantic and
ill-balanced mind. But Donatello can only have meant to teach the
lesson of concentrated unity of purpose, which is the chief if not the
only characteristic of this St. John. Technically the work is
admirable. The singular care with which the limbs are modelled,
especially the feet and hands, is noteworthy: while the muscular
system, the prominent spinal cord, and the pectoral bones are rendered
with an exactitude which leads one to suppose Donatello reproduced all
the peculiarities of his model. It has been said that Michelozzo
helped Donatello on the ground that certain details reappear on the
Aragazzi monument. The argument is speculative, and would perhaps gain
by being inverted,--by pointing out that when making the Aragazzi
figures, Michelozzo, the lesser man, was influenced by Donatello, the
greater.
[Footnote 62: Bocchi, 23. Like the David, it used to live out of
doors, until in 1755 Nicolaus Martelli "in aedes suas transtulit." Its
base dates from 1794.]
[Footnote 63: It was acquired for nine zechins in 1784. Madame André
has a version in stucco, on rather a larger scale. A marble version
from the Strawberry Hill Collection now belongs to Sir Charles Dilke,
M.P.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: CLAY SKETCH OF CRUCIFIXION AND FLAGELLATION
LONDON]
[Sidenote: Donatello as Architect and Painter.]
Fully as Donatello realised the unity of the arts, we cannot claim him
as a universal genius, like Leonardo or Michael Angelo, who combined
the art of literature with plastic, pictorial and architectural
distinction. But at the same time Donatello did not confine himself to
sculpture. He was a member of the Guild of St. Luke: he designed a
stained-glass window for the Cathedral: his opinion on building the
Cupola was constantly invited, and he made a number of marble works,
such as niches, fountains, galleries and tombs, into which the pursuit
of architecture and construction was bound to enter. Moreover, his
backgrounds were usually suggested by architectural motives. Donatello
joined the painters' guild of St. Luke in 1412, and in a document of
this year he is called _Pictor_.[64] There is a great variety in the
names and qualifications given to artists during the fifteenth
century. In the first edition of the Lives, Vasari calls Ghiberti a
painter. Pisano, the medallist, signed himself Pictor. _Lastrajuolo_,
or stone-fitter, is applied to Nanni di Banco.[65] Giovanni Nani was
called _Tagliapietra_,[66] Donatello is also called _Marmoraio_,
_picchiapietre_,[67] and woodcarver.[68] In the commission from the
Orvieto Cathedral for a bronze Baptist he is comprehensively described
as "_intagliatorem figurarum, magistrum lapidum atque intagliatorem
figurarum in ligno et eximium magistrum omnium trajectorum_."[69]
Finally, like Ciuffagni,[70] he is called _aurifex_, goldsmith.[71]
Cellini mentions Donatello's success in painting,[72] and Gauricus,
who wrote early in the sixteenth century, says that the favourite
maxim inculcated by Donatello to his pupils was "_designate_"--"Draw:
that is the whole foundation of sculpture."[73] The only pictorial
work that has survived is the great stained-glass Coronation of the
Virgin in the Duomo. Ghiberti submitted a competitive cartoon and the
Domopera had to settle which was "_pulchrius et honorabilius pro
ecclesia_." Donatello's design was accepted,[74] and the actual
glazing was carried out by Bernardo Francesco in eighteen months.[75]
The background is a plain blue sky, and the two great figures are the
centre of a warm and harmonious composition. The window stands well
among its fellows as regards colour and design, but does not help us
to solve difficult problems connected with Donatello's drawings.
Numbers have been attributed to him on insufficient foundation.[76]
The fact is that, notwithstanding the explicit statements of Borghini
and Vasari that Donatello and Michael Angelo were comparable in
draughtsmanship, we have no authenticated work through which to make
our inductions. A large and important scene of the Flagellation in the
Uffizzi,[77] placed within a complicated architectural framework, and
painted in green wash, has some later Renaissance features, but
recalls Donatello's compositions. In the same collection are two
extremely curious pen-and-ink drawings which give variants of
Donatello's tomb of John XXIII. in the Baptistery. The first of them
(No. 660) shows the Pope in his tiara, whereas on the tomb this symbol
of the Papacy occupies a subordinate place. The Charity below carries
children, another variant from the tomb itself. The second study (No.
661) gives the effigy of a bareheaded knight in full armour lying to
the left, and the basal figures also differ from those on the actual
tomb. These drawings are certainly of the fifteenth century, and even
if not directly traceable to Donatello himself, are important from
their relation to the great tomb of the Pope, for which Donatello was
responsible. But we have no right to say that even these are
Donatello's own work. In fact, drawings on paper by Donatello would
seem inherently improbable. Although he almost drew in marble when
working in _stiacciato_, the lowest kind of relief, he was essentially
a modeller, rather than a draughtsman. Leonardo was just the reverse;
Michael Angelo was both, but with him sculpture was _the_ art.
Donatello had small sense of surface or silhouette, and we would not
expect him to commit his ideas to paper, just as Nollekens,[78] who
drew so badly that he finally gave up drawing, and limited himself to
modelling instead--turning the clay round and round and observing it
from different aspects, thus employing a tactile in place of a
pictorial medium. Canova also trusted chiefly to the plastic sense to
create the form. But Donatello must nevertheless have used pen and ink
to sketch the tombs, the galleries, the Roman tabernacle, and similar
works. It is unfortunate that none of his studies can be identified.
There is, however, one genuine sketch by Donatello, but it is a sketch
in clay. The London Panel[79] was made late in life, when Donatello
left a considerable share to his assistants. It is therefore a
valuable document, showing Donatello's system as regards his own
preliminary studies and the amount of finishing he would leave to
pupils. We see his astonishing plastic facility, and the ease with
which he could improvise by a few curves, depressions and prominences
so complex a theme as the Flagellation, or Christ on the Cross. It
is a marvel of dexterity.
[Footnote 64: Domopera archives, 12, viii., 1412.]
[Footnote 65: _Ibid._, 31, xii., 1407.]
[Footnote 66: Padua, 3, iv., 1443.]
[Footnote 67: When working at Pisa in 1427. See Centofanti, p. 4.]
[Footnote 68: Commission for bronze Baptist for Ancona, 1422.]
[Footnote 69: Contract in Orvieto archives, 10, ii., 1423.]
[Footnote 70: Domopera, 2, ix., 1429.]
[Footnote 71: _Ibid._ 18, iii., 1426.]
[Footnote 72: "Due Trattati," ch. xii.]
[Footnote 73: Pomponius Gauricus, "De Sculptura," 1504, p. b, iii.]
[Footnote 74: April 1434.]
[Footnote 75: See _American Journal of Arch._, June 1900.]
[Footnote 76: The so-called St. George in the Royal Library at Windsor
has been determined by Mr. R. Holmes to be Perugino's study for the
St. Michael in the National Gallery triptych. In the Uffizzi several
pen-and-ink drawings are attributed to Donatello. The four eagles, the
group of three peasants, the two figures seen from behind (Frame 5,
No. 181), and the candlestick (Frame 7, No. 61 s.), are nondescript
studies in which no specific sign of Donatello appears. The five
winged _Putti_ (Frame 7, No. 40 f.) and the two studies of the Madonna
(Frame 7, No. 38 f.) are more Donatellesque, but they show the
niggling touch of some draughtsman who tried to make a sketch by mere
indications with his pen. There is also a study in brown wash of the
Baptistery Magdalen: probably made from, and not for, the statue. The
Louvre has an ink sketch (No. 2225, Reynolds and His De la Salle
Collections) of the three Maries at the Tomb, or perhaps a fragment of
a Crucifixion, with a fourth figure, cowled like a monk. It is a gaunt
composition, made with very strong lines. It may be noted that the
eyes are roughly suggested by circles, a mannerism which recurs in
several drawings ascribed to Donatello. This was also a trick of
Baldassare Peruzzi (Sketch-Book, Siena Library, p. 13, &c.). In the
British Museum there is an Apostle holding a book (No. 1860, 6. 13.
31), with a Donatellesque hand and forearm; also a Lamentation over
the dead Christ (No. 1862, 7. 2. 189). Both are interesting drawings,
but the positive evidence of Donatello's authorship is _nil_. Mr.
Gathorne Hardy's drawing, which has been ascribed to Donatello, is
really by Mantegna, a capital study for one of the frescoes in the
Eremitani.]
[Footnote 77: Uffizzi, Frame 6, No. 6347 f.]
[Footnote 78: See Life by J.T. Smith, 1828.]
[Footnote 79: Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 7619, 1861. This sketch,
which appears to have been made for the Forzori family, has been
mistaken for a study for the San Lorenzo pulpit.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
NICHE OF OR SAN MICHELE
THE GROUP BY VERROCCHIO]