have been attributed to Donatello. Within the limits of this volume
the discussion must be confined to certain groups which are directly
related to him, ignoring a much larger number of subordinate interest.
The tendency is to ascribe to Donatello many more than he can possibly
have made--varying inversely from the attitude of modern criticism,
which has asserted that not twenty paintings by Giorgione have
survived. Hundreds of artists must have made these Madonnas, of which
only a small minority are in bronze or marble. Many names of sculptors
are recorded to whom we can only attribute one or two works; the
remainder being generically ascribed to the school of some great man,
and often enough to the great man himself. The bulk of these reliefs
of the Madonna and Child are in stucco, terra-cotta, carta pesta and
gesso--cheap malleable materials which were easily and rapidly worked:
the reliefs were manufactured in great numbers for the market. Then
again, well-known works were cast, and small differences in colour and
finish often gave them the semblance of original work. Vasari says
that almost every artist in Florence possessed a cast of Pollaiuolo's
battle-piece.[221] Such facsimiles are eagerly sought after nowadays,
and are treated as genuine works of the sculptor. It must also be
remembered that during the last decades there has been a systematic
multiplication of these reliefs, and that forgeries can be found in
most of the great collections of Europe. The first difficulty
encountered in trying to discept between Donatello and his school, is
that authenticated examples from which to make our inductions are very
rare. Donatello certainly made Madonnas in relief: Vasari mentions
half a dozen; Neroccio, the Sienese sculptor, possessed _una Madonna
di gesso di Donatello_.[222] There are Madonnas on the tombs of Pope
John and Cardinal Brancacci. The latter shows no trace of Donatello's
craft, and the former is of indifferent merit, and was certainly not
made by Donatello alone. There are two Madonnas at Padua, one the
large altar statue, the other a tiny relief three inches in diameter
on one of the bronze Miracle panels. The sources of stylistic data are
therefore most scanty. One may say generally that in the authenticated
Virgins as well as in the other heads of women, Donatello makes a
marked nasal indenture, thus separating him from those later men who
drew their heads with the classical profile, showing a straight and
continuous line from the forehead down the nose. But even this cannot
be pressed too far. As regards the Christ, Donatello seems to preserve
the essence and immaturity of childhood. His treatment of the Child is
never hieratic, and it is always full of warm human sentiment. The
Paduan relief, for instance, is almost a _genre_ representation of a
mother and child, domestic and intimate, with nothing but the halos to
indicate the higher meaning of the theme. Having said so much, we come
to the other Madonnas which are assigned on various grounds to
Donatello: those known as the Madonnas Pazzi, Orlandini, Siena
Cathedral, Pietra Piana; the London oval, the Madonna of the Rose,
the Capella Medici group, and the Piot and Courajod Madonnas in the
Louvre. All of these have one or more features which conflict with our
ideas of Donatello. It is impossible to say that any one of them must
inevitably be by Donatello himself; none of them carry their own
sign-manual of authenticity. The Pazzi Madonna in Berlin[223] is now
generally ascribed to Donatello himself, and certainly no more
grandiose version of the subject exists. The Virgin is holding up the
Child close to her beautiful face; she broods over him, and the
countenance is full of foreboding. The solemnity of the large Paduan
Madonna is visible here, and it is only made to apply to the Virgin,
for the Child is a typical _bambino_. So, too, in the relief outside
the transept door of Siena Cathedral we find this grim careworn
expression and the sense of impending drama: the massacre of the
Innocents is still to come. This relief, a marble _tondo_, is in such
abnormally perfect condition that one wonders if it may not be a later
_replica_ of some original which the atmosphere disintegrated.
Donatello must have provided the design; at any rate, it is difficult
to suggest an alternative name. The four winged cherubs are, however,
lifeless and ill-drawn, while the Christ is more like some of the
_putti_ on the Aragazzi reliefs than Donatello's typical boy. The
share of Michelozzo in the reliefs ascribed to Donatello is larger
than has been hitherto acknowledged. The Orlandini Madonna[224] yearns
like a tigress as she holds up her child and gazes into its face; here
again we have a composition for which Donatello must have been
primarily responsible, though the full profile is attributable to
inefficient handling of the marble rather than to deliberate
intention. Signor Bardini's version of this relief has a delicacy
lacking in the original; one touch of colour removes a certain
awkwardness of the profile. The Madonna in the Via Pietra Piana at
Florence belongs to a different category. Here again the design is
Donatellesque, but the face of the Madonna has a dull and vacant look;
not only is it without the powerful modelling of the Pazzi or Siena
reliefs, but it shows none of the sentiment for which those two
Madonnas are so remarkable. There are several reproductions in Berlin
and London,[225] all differing from the Florentine version in the
drapery of the head-dress. Closely related to this Madonna is another
composition which only exists in soft materials.[226] The Virgin, with
long wavy hair, looks downwards towards her Child, who is looking
outwards to the spectator. This is a work of merit, with something
attractive in the anxious and clinging attitude of the Madonna. The
large clay Madonna and Child in London,[227] the Christ sitting in a
chair and the Virgin with hands joined in worship, has been the
subject of much controversy. There are good grounds for doubting its
authenticity. The angular treatment of the head and a dainty roundness
of the wrist often indicate that Bastianini had a share in this class
of work.[228] This relief has all the merits and demerits of the
circular Piot Madonna in the Louvre.[229] Here, too, the handling of
Bastianini has been detected, though there is a clumsiness which is
seldom seen in the productions of that distinguished artist. The frame
and the background, which are integral features of the composition,
can leave no doubt as to the origin of this work. But the Piot relief
has an interest which the London terra-cotta cannot boast, for a
fifteenth-century original from which the copyist worked is in
existence, now belonging to Signor Bardini. This is a tondo Madonna of
uncoloured stucco, of no particular value in itself; but it is the
model from which the Piot sophistication was contrived; or else it is
a cast from the lost original of marble. It reveals all the whims of
the copyist: the treatment of the hands, the lissome tissue of the
drapery, and the angular structure of the skull. A less interesting
forgery is the marble Madonna in London.[230] Three reproductions of
the lost Donatellesque original exist, the Berlin copy[231] being in
stucco, that at Bergamo terra-cotta. Signor Bardini has an effaced and
poor copy of the same relief, in which the hand of the Madonna is
obviously meant to be holding something; but the stucco has been much
rubbed away and one cannot tell the original intention of the
sculptor. But the two other genuine versions are in better condition
and supply the answer, showing that the Virgin held a large rose
between her fingers. The man who made the London relief copied from
the incomplete version, and carved an empty meaningless hand with the
fingers grasping something which does not exist.
[Footnote 221: v. 100.]
[Footnote 222: Mentioned in his will. He died in 1500. Milanesi, iii.
p. 8.]
[Footnote 223: Marble, No. 39. Versions in soft materials exist in the
Louvre, in the André and Bardini Collections, and a variant in the
Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 7590, 1861.]
[Footnote 224: Marble, Berlin Museum.]
[Footnote 225: Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 7412, 1860; Berlin
Museum; collections of Herr von Beckerath and Herr Richard von
Kaufmann.]
[Footnote 226: Louvre, Berlin Museum; Verona, in the Viccolo Fogge;
_cf._ also the relief under the archway in the Via de' Termini,
Siena.]
[Footnote 227: Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 57, 1867.]
[Footnote 228: Giovanni Bastianini, 1830-68, though the _doyen_ of
forgers, did not profit by his dexterity, and died almost penniless.]
[Footnote 229: Terra-cotta.]
[Footnote 230: Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 8376, 1863.]
[Footnote 231: No. 53 E. Bergamo, Morelli Collection, No.
53.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
MADONNA AND CHILD
LOUVRE (NO. 389), PARIS]
The little oval Madonna in London[232] is a work of much interest. It
is coloured stucco, and Dr. Bode, who has dated it as early as
1420-30, believes it to be the first example of the _Santa
conversazione_ in Italian plastic art. A variant belonging to Dr.
Weisbach in Berlin is of equal importance, and both are probably
original works and not casts. The Berlin relief is not so thickly
painted as the London medallion, and shows signs of the actual
modelling. There are contradictions in these valuable works. The
music-making angels are like a figure on the Salome relief at Siena:
but they are also related to Luca della Robbia's reliefs on the
Campanile, and to a terra-cotta Madonna in London[233] (which reminds
one of the Pellegrini Chapel); Matteo Civitale uses a similar type on
the tomb of St. Regulus at Lucca; while the crowned saint of the
London version was copied at a later date on a well-known plaquette
forming the lid of a box of which several examples exist.[234] The
figure of the Madonna and Child also suggests another hand; and with
the exception of the stone relief in the Louvre, and another derived
from it at Padua,[235] it is the only case in which the Virgin is not
shown in profile. These latter works are bold and vigorous, and must
be ultimately referred to Donatello, the head of the Madonna being
rendered by fluent and precise strokes of the chisel. A bronze relief
in the Louvre (No. 390), which came from Fontainebleau, has
Donatellesque motives; but the spiral coils of hair, and still more
the fact that the Virgin's breasts are hammered into the likeness
of _putti_'s faces--wholly alien to Donatello's serious
ideas--sufficiently prove it to belong to the later Italian school
which flourished at the French Court. The Courajod Madonna (Louvre,
389) is modestly called a schoolpiece; but it is a work of first-class
importance, for which Donatello is to be credited. This is a very
large relief in painted terra, the Madonna being in profile to the
left, with a wan and saddened expression. The arm is stiff and wooden,
while the undercutting of the profile, like that of the Siena tondo,
is so pronounced that, when standing close to the wall on which the
relief is fixed, one can see the Virgin's second eye--unduly prominent
and much too near to the nose. This is a needless and distracting
mannerism, though, of course, the blemish is only noticeable from one
point of view, being quite invisible as one sees the relief from the
front, or in a photograph. The Berlin Museum has another large Madonna
comparable for its scale and rich colouring to the Courajod relief.
This came from the convent of Santa Maria Maddalena de' Pazzi at
Florence.[236] The Child, draped in swaddling-clothes, stands up
leaning against the Virgin, who looks downwards. Above them are four
cherubs, full of character and vivacity, the whole composition being
typical of Donatello, though naturally enough much of the primitive
colouring has disappeared during the last four centuries. One other
group remains to be noticed, founded upon the large marble relief in
the Capella Medici of Santa Croce.[237] We detect Donatello's ideas,
but no sign of his handiwork: neither was he responsible for the
composition, of which the governing feature is a total absence of his
masterly occupation of space. There are also florescent details in the
halos, drapery, and so forth, which are closer to Agostino di Duccio
than to Donatello. Though not all by the same sculptor, these reliefs
are most interesting and suggestive, showing the growth and activity
of a small school which drew some inspiration from Donatello while
preserving its own individuality. We find an intricate treatment of a
very simple idea. As compositions, Donatello's Madonnas were always
simple. But our knowledge of the subject is still empirical, and until
the problem has been further sifted by the most severe tests of
research and criticism, our opinions as to Donatello's personal share
in the array of Madonnas must remain subject to revision.
[Footnote 232: Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 93, 1882.]
[Footnote 233: _Ibid._ No. 7594, 1861.]
[Footnote 234: One was in the Spitzer Collection, another belongs to
M. Gustave Dreyfus.]
[Footnote 235: No. 294, Davillier bequest; and in the entrance hall to
the Sacristy of the Eremitani at Padua.]
[Footnote 236: Terra-cotta No. 39a.]
[Footnote 237: The others are Victoria and Albert Museum, No. 7624,
1861, marble. Berlin Museum, stucco. Madame André, marble, finer than
the London version. Marquise Arconati-Visconti, Paris, marble, and a
rough uncoloured stucco in the Casa Bardini.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _W.A. Mansell_
MADONNA (BERLIN)
FROM SANTA MARIA MADDALENA DEI PAZZI, FLORENCE]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
SIDE PANEL OF PULPIT
SAN LORENZO, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: The Pulpits of San Lorenzo.]
Donatello was sixty-seven when he returned from Padua. He seems to
have been unsettled during his later years, undertaking ambitious
schemes which he did not execute, and hesitating whether Florence or
Siena should be the home of his old age. The bronze pulpits of San
Lorenzo[238] are the most important works of this period, and they
were left unfinished at his death. Donatello was an old man, and the
work bears witness to his advancing years. Bandinelli says that the
roughness of the modelling was caused by failing eyesight,[239] and it
is obvious that, notwithstanding the signs of feverish activity,
and an apparent desire to get the work finished, much was left
uncompleted at his death. The pulpits were not even erected until a
later date; some of the panels were subsequently added in wood, and
others do not correctly fit into the structural design. But the genius
of Donatello shines through the finishing-touches of his assistants.
Drama is replaced by tragedy; and in these panels the concluding
incidents of the Passion are pictured with intense earnestness and
pathos. But Donatello would not allow gloom to monopolise his
composition. The paradox of the pulpits consists in the frieze of
_putti_ above the reliefs: _putti_ who dance, play, romp, and run
about. Some of them are busily engaged in moving a heavy statue:
others are pressing grapes into big cauldrons. The boy dragging along
a violoncello as big as himself is delightful. The contrast afforded
by this happy and buoyant throng to the unrelieved tragedy below is
strikingly unconventional; and the spirit of both portions is so well
maintained that there is neither conflict of emotion nor sense of
incongruity. The scenes (including those added at a later date) are
sixteen in number. Except the later reliefs of St. John, St. Luke, the
Flagellation, and the Ecce Homo, all are of bronze, upon which more
care seems to have been expended than on the clay models from which
they were cast. On the southern pulpit the scene on the Mount of
Olives shows the foreshortened Apostles sleeping soundly as in
Mantegna's pictures. Christ before Pilate and Christ before Caiaphas
are treated as different episodes, in two similar compartments of one
great hall, separated by a large pier. The Crucifix and the Deposition
are, perhaps, the most remarkable of all these reliefs: corresponding
in many ways to works already described; but not having been
over-decorated like the Bargello relief, show greater dignity and less
confusion. The background of the Deposition is flat, but broken here
and there by faintly-indicated horsemen; naked boys riding on shadowy
steeds like those vague figures which seem to thread their way through
some panel of Gothic tapestry. There is an element of _stiacciato_ in
the Entombment, giving it the air of a mystery rather than of an
historical fact. The draperies are thin and graceful, suited to the
softer modelling of the limbs: some of the faces are almost dainty.
Passing to the northern pulpit, we come to three scenes divided by
heavy buttresses, but unified by figures leaning against them, and
overstepping the lateral boundaries of the reliefs. The subjects are
the Descent into Limbo, the Resurrection and the Ascension. The link
between the two former is a haggard emaciated Baptist. The Christ is
old and tired. The people who welcome him in Limbo are old and tired,
feebly pressing towards the Saviour. The Roman guards lie sleeping,
self abandoned in their fatigue, while Christ, wearied and suffering,
steps from the tomb with manifest effort. One feels that the physical
infirmities of the artist are reflected in these two works, so vivid
in their presentment of the heavy burden of advanced years. But in the
Resurrection a fresh note is struck. The bystanders are gathered round
the Christ, who gives the Benediction. His robe is held back by little
angels, and the scene is pervaded by an atmosphere of staid and
decorous calm. Donatello has treated this relief in a more archaic
spirit. The absence of paroxysms of acute grief, giving a certain
violence to other parts of the pulpits, makes the contrast of this
relief more effective; but, even so, this scene of the Ascension is
fraught with dramatic emphasis. The Descent of the Holy Ghost is
less interesting. There is a monotony in the upraised hands, while the
feeling of devotional rhapsody is perhaps unduly enforced. The relief
of the Maries at the Tomb, which occupies the western end of this
pulpit, is almost Pisanesque in the relative size of the people to the
architecture. There is a combination of trees and pilasters seeming to
support the long low roof beneath which the incident is portrayed. A
curious feeling of intimacy is conveyed to the spectator. The pulpits
are full of classical details--far more so than in anything we find at
Padua. It is very noticeable in the armour of the soldiers, in their
shields bearing the letters S.P.Q.R. and the scorpion, and in the
antique vases which decorate the frieze. The centaurs holding the
cartel on which Donatello has signed his name are, of course,
classical in idea, while the boys with horses are suggested by the
great Monte Cavallo statues.[240] Then, again, the architecture is
replete with classical forms; in one relief Donatello introduces the
Column of Trajan. But here, as elsewhere, the classicisms are held in
check, and never invade or embarrass the dominant spirit of the
Quattrocento. How far Donatello was helped by assistants must remain
problematical in the absence of documentary evidence. Bellano and
Bertoldo were in all probability responsible for a good deal. In the
relief of St. Laurence it is possible that Donatello's share was
relatively small. Moreover, one part of the frieze of children is so
closely allied to the work of Giovanni da Pisa at Padua, that one is
justified, on stylistic grounds, in suggesting that he may also have
been employed. But it is certain that the share of Bellano must have
been limited to the more technical portion of the work, for there is
happily nothing to suggest the poverty of his inventive powers. These
pulpits are very remarkable works; they have an inexhaustible wealth
of detail in which Donatello can be studied with endless pleasure. The
backgrounds are full of his architectural fancy, and the sustained
effort put forth by Donatello is really astonishing. But he was an
octogenarian, and there are signs of decay. Michael Angelo and
Beethoven decayed. Dante and Shakespeare were too wise to decay;
Shelley and Giorgione died too young. But the sculptor's intellect
must be reinforced by keen eyes and a steady hand: of all artists,
Nature finds him most vulnerable. Donatello's last work shows the
fatigue of hand and eye, though the intellect never lost its ardent
and strenuous activity. There was no petulance or meanness in his old
age, no decadence; he merely grew old, and his personality was great
until the end.
[Footnote 238: Properly speaking, they are ambones. They stand in the
west end of the nave of the church close to the junction of the
transepts.]
[Footnote 239: 7, xii. 1547. "_... Donato non fece mai la più brutta
opera_," &c. Letter printed in Bottari, i. 70.]
[Footnote 240: It is probable that these famous horses were mere
wrecks in the fifteenth century. At any rate, Lafreri's engraving of
1546 shows one of them without breast or forelegs, the remainder of
the horse being nothing but a large pillar of brick. Herr von Kaufmann
has an admirable statuette of Donatello's latter period modelled from
the horses on the San Lorenzo frieze. _Cf._ also Mantegna in the
Madonna di San Zeno, Verona.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Alinari_
END PANEL OF PULPIT
SAN LORENZO, FLORENCE]
[Sidenote: Donatello's Influence on Sculpture.]
The influence of Donatello on his three greatest contemporaries was
small. Jacopo della Quercia always retained his own massive style.
Luca della Robbia and Ghiberti--the Euphuist of Italian
sculpture--were scarcely affected by the sterner principles of
Donatello. All four men were, in fact, exponents of distinct and
independent ideas, and handed on their traditions to separate groups
of successors. Nanni di Banco and Il Rosso were, however, impressed
by Donatello's monumental work, while other sculptors, such as Simone
Fiorentino, Vecchietta, Michelozzo, Andrea del Aquila and Buggiano
(besides much anonymous talent) were largely influenced by him. It is
owing to the fact that Donatello was the most influential man of his
day that so many "schoolpieces" exist.[241] The influence on his
successors is less easily determined, except so far as concerns the
men who worked for him at Padua, together with Riccio, the most
skilful bronze caster of his day, who indirectly owed a good deal to
Donatello. But Urbano da Cortona and his colleagues produced little
original work after their return from Padua: their training seems to
have merged their individuality into the dominant style of Donatello;
and much of their subsequent work is now ascribed to Donatello or his
_bottega_. Verrocchio, whom Gauricus calls Donatello's rival, owes
little or nothing to the elder man, and the versatile sculptors who
outlived Donatello, such as Rossellino, Benedetto da Maiano, Mino da
Fiesole and Desiderio, show relatively small traces of his influence.
But Donatello's sculpture acted as a restraining influence, a tonic:
it was a living protest against flippancy and carelessness, and his
influence was of service even where it was of a purely negative
character. Through Bertoldo Donatello's influence extended to Michael
Angelo, affecting his ideas of form: But Jacopo della Quercia, who was
almost as great a man as Donatello, is the prototype of Michael
Angelo's spirit. Jacopo ought to have founded a powerful, indeed an
overwhelming school of sculpture at Siena. Cozzarelli, Neroccio, and
the Turini just fail to attain distinction; but their force and
virility should have fructified Jacopo's ideas and developed a supreme
school of monumental sculpture. As regards Michael Angelo, there can
be no question of his having been influenced by Donatello's St. John
the Evangelist and the Campanile Abraham. The _Madonna delle
treppe_[242] in a lesser degree is suggested by Donatello. The Trinity
on the niche of St. Louis again reminds one of Michael Angelo's
conception of the Eternal Father. His Bacchus in Berlin[243] was held
to be the work of Donatello himself, and the Pietà in St. Peter's has
also a reminiscence of the older master. But in all these cases the
resemblance is physical. The intellectual genius of Michael Angelo
owed nothing to Donatello. Condivi records one of Michael Angelo's
rare _obiter dicta_ about his predecessors[244] to the effect that
Donatello's work, much as he admired it, was inadequately polished
owing to lack of patience. The criticism was not very sagacious, and
one would least expect it from Michael Angelo, of whose work so much
was left unfinished. But, at any rate, Donatello commanded his
approval, and contributed something to one of the greatest artists of
the world. But the ideals of Michael Angelo were too comprehensive to
be derived from one source or another, too stupendous to spring from
individuals. He sought out the universal form: he took mankind for his
model; and while he typified humanity he effectively denationalised
Italian sculpture.
[Footnote 241: _E.g._, work wrongly attributed to Donatello: the
figure of Plenty in the courtyard of the Canigiani Palace, Florence;
the Lavabo in San Lorenzo; the two figures on the famous silver altar
at Pistoja; the bronze busts in the Bargello; the font at Pietra
Santa; chimney-pieces, gateways, _stemme_, and numberless Madonnas and
small bronzes.]
[Footnote 242: Casa Buonarroti, Florence.]
[Footnote 243: From the Gualandi Collection. It is attributed by some
to a Neapolitan sculptor.]
[Footnote 244: "Vita," 1553, p. 14.]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Early Criticism of Donatello.]
Donatello's activity is the best testimonial to the appreciation of
his work during his lifetime. Sabba del Castiglione was proud to
possess a specimen of Donatello's sculpture.[245] Commissions were
showered on him in great numbers, and Gauricus says that he produced
more than all his contemporaries.[246] Flavius Blondius of Forli
compares him favourably with the ancients.[247] Bartolomeo Fazio
warmly praised Donatello, his junior.[248] Francesco d'Olanda[249] and
Benvenuto Cellini[250] also admired him. Lasca credited Donatello with
having done for sculpture what Brunellesco did for architecture:
"_E Donatello messe la scultura
Nel dritto suo sentier ch' era smarrita
Cosi l'architettura
Storpiata, e guasta alle man' de' Tedeschi...._"
and so forth.[251] Another early poem, the _Rappresentazione_ of King
Nebuchadnezzar, shows the great popularity of Donatello in the humbler
walks of life.[252] Vasari's rhetoric led him to say that Donatello
was sent by Nature, indignant at seeing herself caricatured.[253]
Bocchi claims that, having equalled the ancients and surpassed the
sculptors of his own day, Donatello's name will live in the perpetual
memory of mankind.[254]
[Footnote 245: "Ricordi," 1554, p. 51.]
[Footnote 246: "De Sculptura," 1504, gathering f. "Donatellus ...
_aere ligno, marmore laudatissimus, plura hujus unius manu extant
opera, quam semel ab eo ad nos cæterorum omnium_."]
[Footnote 247: "Italia Illustrata," Bâle, 1531, p. 305. "_Decorat
etiam urbem Florentiam ingenio veterum laudibus respondente, Donatello
Heracleotae Zeusi aequiparandus, ut vivos, juxta Virgilii verba, ducat
de marmore vultus._"]
[Footnote 248: "De Viris illustribus," Florence ed. 1745, p. 51.
"_Donatellus ... excellet non aere tantum, sed etiam marmore
notissimus, ut vivos vultus ducere, et ad antiquorum gloriam proxime
accedere videatur._"]
[Footnote 249: "Dialogues," Raczynski ed. Paris, 1846, p. 56.]
[Footnote 250: "Due Trattati," ed. Milanesi, 1857, passim.]
[Footnote 251: "Due Vite di Brunellesco," p. 142.]
[Footnote 252: Semper, 321.]
[Footnote 253: "Lem.," iii. 243, in first edition.]
[Footnote 254: 1677 edition.]
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Character and Personality of Donatello.]
Donatello must be judged by his work alone. His intellect is only
reflected in his handicraft. We know little about him, but all we know
bears tribute to his high character. The very name by which he was
called--Donatello--is a diminutive, a term of endearment. His
generosity, his modesty, and a pardonable pride, are recorded in
stories which have been generically applied to others, but which were
specific to himself. He shared his purse with his friends:[255] he
preferred plain clothing to the fine raiment offered by Cosimo de'
Medici;[256] and he indignantly broke the statue for which a Genoese
merchant was unwilling to pay a fair price.[257] He was recognised as
a man of honourable judgment, and he was called upon to act as
assessor several times. The friend of the Medici, of Cyriac of Ancona,
of Niccolo Niccoli, the greatest antiquarian of the day, and of Andrea
della Robbia, one of the pall-bearers at his funeral, must have been a
man of winning personality and considerable learning. But he was
always simple and naïve: _benigno e cortese_, according to
Vasari,[258] but as Summonte added with deeper insight, his work was
far from simple.[259] He is one of the rare men of genius against whom
no contemporary attack is recorded. He was content with little;[260]
his life was even-tenored; his work, though not faultless, shows a
steady and unbroken progress towards the noblest achievements of
plastic art.
[Footnote 255: Gauricus, b. 1.]
[Footnote 256: Vespasiano de' Bisticci, Vite.]
[Footnote 257: "Vasari," iii. 253.]
[Footnote 258: _Ibid._ iii. 244.]
[Footnote 259: "_Fo in Fiorenza ad tempo de' nostri padri Donatello
huomo raro, semplicissimo in ogni altra cosa excepto che in la
scultura_."]
[Footnote 260: Matteo degli Orghani, writing in 1434, says: "_Impero
che è huomo ch' ogni picholo pasto è allui assai, e sta contento a
ogni cosa_." Guasti, iv. 475. Donatello died in 1466, probably on
December 15. He was buried in San Lorenzo at the expense of the
Medici. Masaccio painted his portrait in the Carmine, but it is lost.
The Louvre panel No. 1272, ascribed to Paolo Ucello, shows the
painter, Manetti, Brunellesco, and Donatello. Monuments have been
recently erected to the sculptor in his native city. For Donatello's
homes in Florence, see "Misc. Fiorentina," vol. i. No. 4, 1886, p. 60,
and "Miscellanea d'arte," No. 3, 1903, p. 49.]
APPENDICES
APPENDIX I
WORK LOST OR NOT EXECUTED
_Padua._--For the Santo altar, a figure of God the Father, stone; a
Deposition and the remaining bas-reliefs mentioned in the "Anonimo
Morelliano;" a St. Sebastian, wood; a Madonna in the church of the
Servi.