comes out with delight into the spacious squares scattered over the
city. One such is the Piazza of SS. Annunziata, in front of the church
of that name. Two sides of the square are ornamented with arcaded
buildings in the style characteristic of Italian architecture. That at
the left attracts us at once by its unique decorations. In the
spandrils, or triangular spaces between the arches, are medallion
bas-reliefs of glazed terra cotta showing white figures relieved
against a background of bright blue. It is one of these which is
reproduced in our illustration. Seen against the sombre wall they are
like "fragments of the milky sky itself fallen into the cool street,"
as a poetic critic has described them.[38]
From each medallion a baby looks down upon us, stretching out both
little arms as if appealing to our pity. The delicate beauty of these
little ones is so like that of the flowers that a traveller asks,
"Really, are they lilies, or children, or the embodied strophes of a
psalter?"[39] When we inquire what it all means we learn that this
arcade is the entrance to a Foundling Hospital. Passing through the
central door we are in a _cortile_ or courtyard, around which are more
baby figures. The design is a sort of key to the character of the
institution: the babies represent the little waifs received into its
care. We may fancy that the orphan inmates are peeping out of the
medallions as from windows.
The Hospital of the Innocents (Spedale degli Innocenti, in Italian) is
one of the oldest establishments of its kind. It was founded in the
fifteenth century, and still carries on its good work. Several
thousand children are annually supported by its resources.[40] To
multiply the figures by four hundred and fifty makes a magnificent
showing for the total number of beneficiaries in four and a half
centuries. It was probably on the occasion of some improvements in the
original building (1463) that Andrea della Robbia furnished the famous
medallions of the _bambini_, or baby boys.
Among so many babies we yet find no two alike. Each visitor chooses
for himself some special favorite. The medallion of our illustration
is one of the most attractive of the number. Unfortunately the fingers
of the right hand are broken off, but otherwise the figure is quite
perfect.
[Illustration: BAMBINO (ANDREA DELLA ROBBIA) _Foundling Hospital,
Florence_]
The child is a healthy-looking little fellow, and the creases in neck
and wrists show how plump he is. Yet there is a pathetic expression on
the face which touches the heart. It is as if orphanage had laid its
sorrowful impress upon him. A lonely look has crept into the eyes, and
the mouth droops in a sad little curve. The boy is certainly no common
child. His finely formed head promises a superior character. We are
reminded of the Christ child, as many of the old masters have
represented him. The body and legs are completely encased in swaddling
bands, from which the head and arms emerge, like a blossom from its
calyx.
The custom of swathing babies with bandages is very ancient. We read
in the gospel of St. Luke how the mother of Jesus wrapped her son in
swaddling clothes as she laid him in the manger. The object was to
prevent every possible injury or deformity to the growing limbs, and
keep them straight. A child in swaddling clothes is naturally much
more easily carried by the mother, and can more safely be left alone.
This is doubtless the reason why the custom still prevails in many
countries, and especially among the poorer people. There are still
many nations which the progressive ideas of physical culture have not
reached.
The method of swaddling as now practised in Italy begins by folding
the babe in a large square linen cloth. A second piece of linen is
rolled around the body, which is then ready for the bandage. This
bandage is about ten inches wide and over three yards long, and is
rolled about the entire length of the child's figure, pinning the arms
to the sides. The lower part of the linen cloth is turned up over the
feet and tied with the ends of the bandage.[41]
Judging from our picture, the process seems to have been about the
same in the fifteenth century, except that the arms of our bambino are
free. Certainly this fact makes the figure much more attractive as
well as more decorative. The cloth about the child's body is brown and
the bandage white.
The sculptor of the bambini, Andrea della Robbia, was the nephew of
Luca della Robbia, of whom we have learned something in previous
chapters. He was trained in the workshop of his uncle, and in turn
passed on his art to his three sons. While Luca's work is considered
superior to that of any of his pupils, the nephew Andrea had some fine
artistic qualities. The decorations of the Foundling Hospital
illustrate both the delicacy and the fertility of his imagination.
Only a genuine artist could invent so many variations upon the simple
theme of a single baby figure. The entire series is like a musical
composition based upon some simple but exquisite melody.
[Footnote 38: Walter Pater.]
[Footnote 39: Maurice Hewlett in _Earthwork out of Tuscany_.]
[Footnote 40: Between 7000 and 8000, according to the Misses Horner's
_Walks in Florence_, published in 1885.]
[Footnote 41: Described in a little book called _Italian Child-Life_,
by Marietta Ambrosi.]
XI
THE ANNUNCIATION
BY ANDREA DELLA ROBBIA
The life of Mary the mother of Jesus was full of strange experiences.
She had many sorrows to bear, but withal a joy beyond any ever given
to woman. In the purity of her character she was set apart for a high
and holy service.
The turning-point in her life was on a great day when the angel
Gabriel was sent by God to visit her. It was in her quiet home in
Nazareth that the celestial messenger "came in unto her." "Hail, thou
that art highly favoured," he said, "the Lord is with thee: blessed
art thou among women." "And when she saw him, she was troubled at his
saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should
be."
The angel spoke again, and his words reassured her: "Fear not, Mary:
for thou hast found favour with God." Then he told her that she was to
be the mother of a wonderful son. "Thou shalt call his name Jesus," he
said. "He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest:
and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David:
and he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his
kingdom there shall be no end."[42]
When at last Mary understood the meaning of the angel's message she
humbly accepted her great destiny. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord,"
she replied; "be it unto me according to thy word." From this day
until the birth of Jesus her thoughts were full of her coming
motherhood. Once she broke forth into a song of praise:--
"My soul doth magnify the Lord, And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my
Saviour, For he hath regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden, For,
behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. For he
that is mighty hath magnified me, and holy is his name."[43]
The bas-relief by Andrea della Robbia tells the story of the angel's
visit to Mary, the subject usually called the Annunciation. At one
side sits the Virgin with an open book on her lap, as if she had been
reading. She has a girl's slender figure, and her head is modestly
draped with a mantle. The angel kneels opposite, with folded hands. He
has long pointed wings covered with feathers as "a bird of God," in
Dante's phrase.
From above a fatherly face looks down upon them out of a surrounding
circle of winged cherub heads. Beside the Virgin stands a jar of
lilies, the flowers which symbolize the purity of her maidenhood. Over
these soars a white dove, the same symbol of the Divine Spirit which
descended upon Jesus at his baptism.[44]
[Illustration: THE ANNUNCIATION (ANDREA DELLA ROBBIA) _Altar Piece at
La Verna_]
Already the angel has delivered his message, and now awaits the
answer. His face is round and innocent like a child's, and his long
hair is carefully curled. The Virgin has listened with drooping head,
and with her hand pressed to her breast as if to still the beating of
her heart. She seems too timid to lift her eyes to meet her radiant
guest. Yet her whole attitude expresses submission to the divine will.
The artist has expressed with rare delicacy of imagination the
religious sentiment of the incident. The interpretation is in a
similar vein to that of the poet painter Rossetti in the lines on the
Annunciation in the poem "Ave:"--
"Then suddenly the awe grew deep As of a day to which all days Were
footsteps in God's secret ways; Until a folding sense, like prayer,
Which is, as God is, everywhere, Gathered about thee; and a voice
Spake to thee without any noise, Being of the silence:--'Hail,' it
said, 'Thou that art highly favoured; The Lord is with thee, here and
now; Blessed among all women thou.'"
Rossetti, it will be remembered, belonged to that circle of English
artists who some fifty years ago attempted to revive the simple
reverence of the Italian art previous to Raphael. Thus the
"Pre-Raphaelite" poet and the sculptor, though separated by so many
centuries, had the common aim of expressing "the sense of prayer"
which gathered about the Virgin in this moment. Rossetti also treated
the Annunciation in a picture which has interesting points of
comparison with our illustration.
The relief is made in the Della Robbia enamelled terra cotta ware. The
sculptor has here followed his uncle's example in the simplicity of
the draperies. The modelling of the hands also recalls the touch of
Luca. In choice of types, however, Andrea shows his individual taste.
The fragile figure of the Virgin is as different as possible from the
robust beauty of Luca's Madonna which we have studied. The angel too
is of a softer and less vigorous character than the older artist would
have designed.
The relief is surrounded by an elaborate frame of the same material.
At the sides decorated pillars with Ionic capitals support an
entablature, every section of which has its own distinctive design.
The patterns ornamenting frieze and pillars seem to be variations on
the lotus motive, and are very graceful. On the dado, or piece running
across the bottom of the frame, is printed the Latin inscription:
"Ecce Ancilla Domini. Fiat Mihi secundum verbum tuum" (Behold the
handmaid of the Lord; be it done unto me according to thy word). It is
interesting to notice that at this period the letters _n_ and _m_ were
written above the line or united with the vowels which they followed.
[Footnote 42: St. Luke, chapter i., verses 30-33.]
[Footnote 43: From the Magnificat in the Prayer Book version.]
[Footnote 44: St. Matthew, chapter iii., verse 16.]
XII
THE ASCENSION
BY LUCA DELLA ROBBIA
For forty days after the resurrection of Jesus the disciples enjoyed
the companionship of their Master. They were now ready to understand
many things that before had been obscure to them, and Jesus spoke to
them much of the things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.[45]
Sometimes, as they sat together, he suddenly appeared among them.[46]
Once when a few of them had been out fishing over night they found him
standing on the shore in the morning.[47]
Still later he appointed a meeting on a mountain in Galilee at which
over five hundred of the faithful were gathered. It was then that he
commanded them to go forth to teach all nations, and he gave them the
promise, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the
world."[48]
Finally he led the chosen band to the Mount of Olives at Bethany, "and
he lifted up his hands and blessed them. And it came to pass while he
blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven."
"And a cloud received him out of their sight. And while they looked
stedfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold, two men stood by them
in white apparel; which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye
gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you
into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into
heaven."[49]
In Luca della Robbia's bas-relief of the Ascension the moment has come
when, in the very act of blessing his disciples, Jesus is parted from
them. He had already, in some measure, prepared them for this event.
On the day of his resurrection he told them that he was about to
ascend to his father.[50] To-day his words and manner may have shown
them that the time was at hand. Certainly there are no startled or
grief-stricken faces among them; no gestures of surprise. It is as if
in response to some sign from the master, they had all knelt to
receive his benediction, and while they were still on their knees, he
rose from their midst. Already his feet have left the solid earth, as
he vanishes out of their sight.
The company form a circle just as they had clustered about him. So
orderly is their arrangement, so quietly is the great act
accomplished, that they seem to be taking part in some religious
service. All eyes are fixed upon the Saviour, with love, joy, and
adoration expressed in every countenance.
[Illustration: THE ASCENSION (LUCA DELLA ROBBIA) _Cathedral,
Florence_]
The treachery of Judas had reduced the number of disciples to eleven,
and the vacant place was not filled until later. We see, however,
twelve figures in this circle, and notice that one is a woman. This is
Mary, the mother of Jesus, who had lived with John since the day of
the Crucifixion. It was the express wish of Jesus that the beloved
disciple should regard her as a mother. Thus it is not unnatural to
suppose that the two would come together to Bethany at this time, and
kneel side by side, as we see them here. Mary looks as young as when
she held her babe in her arms, and she has the same happy expression.
It is not possible to make out who the others are. We fancy that the
two beardless young men at the right are Thomas and Philip, because
they are thought to have been younger than the other disciples.
The figure of the Saviour is noble and dignified, the attitude full of
buoyancy. The face is such as from long association we have come to
identify with the person of Christ, benignant and refined. He looks
not up into the glory towards which he is ascending, but his glance
still lingers upon the disciples with an expression of tender
solicitude. An oval frame of radiating lines surrounds his entire
figure. It is the _mandorla_, or almond-shaped nimbus, which was the
old artistic symbol of divine glory.
We have already noticed some of the characteristics of Luca della
Robbia's art, which are again illustrated in this work. The draperies
are arranged with a simplicity of line which is almost severe. The
folds are scanty, clinging to the figure and following the fine
outlines of the pose. The figures are white, set off against the blue
of the sky, and green, brown, and yellow are introduced in the
landscape surroundings.
The bas-relief is one of two lunettes placed over opposite doors in
the cathedral of Florence. The companion subject is the Resurrection,
and in both pieces the sculptor went beyond his usual limit in the
number of figures making up the composition. The leading quality of
his work is decorative, and he seldom applied his art to the
illustration of story. We are the more interested in his remarkable
success in these instances.
A painter would naturally have brought out the more dramatic features
of the Ascension, showing the excitement and confusion of the moment.
Luca knew well that sculpture was unsuited for violent action, and he
sought rather to convey a sense of repose in his work. Moreover he
infused a devotional spirit into the scene which he seldom attained.
Marcel-Reymond says that only in Fra Angelico's work can one find
figures expressing such an ecstasy of love and devotion.
[Footnote 45: Acts, chapter i., verse 3.]
[Footnote 46: St. Mark, chapter xvi., verse 14; St. John, chapter xx.,
verse 26.]
[Footnote 47: St. John, chapter xxi., verse 4.]
[Footnote 48: St. Matthew, chapter xxviii., verses 19, 20.]
[Footnote 49: St. Luke, chapter xxiv., verses 50, 51; Acts, chapter
i., verses 9-11.]
[Footnote 50: St. John, chapter xx., verse 17.]
XIII
TOMB OF THE CARDINAL OF PORTUGAL
BY ANTONIO ROSSELLINO
In the church of San Miniato, on a hill overlooking Florence, is a
memorial chapel built in honor of a Portuguese cardinal who is buried
here. Architecture, painting, and sculpture are here united to make a
perfect artistic whole. The room was designed by the architect Antonio
Manetti; the altar and walls are adorned with paintings by Pollaiuolo
and Baldovinetti, the roof is decorated with medallions of Delia
Robbia ware, and at one side is the cardinal's tomb.
This prelate, Jacopo di Portogallo, died in Florence while visiting
the city on a diplomatic mission. He was a young man under thirty
years of age, a cousin of the reigning king of Portugal, and was
besides the cardinal archbishop of Lisbon. Naturally he was received
as a guest of unusual distinction, and his amiable qualities won him
warm friends among the Florentines. Though dying in a foreign land, he
was buried with such honors as his own countrymen could hardly have
surpassed. This was in 1459, at a time when Antonio Rossellino was a
prominent sculptor of Tuscany. He was the artist chosen by the Bishop
of Florence to construct the Portuguese cardinal's tomb.
On a richly carved base stands the sarcophagus or marble coffin in an
arched niche. Just over this, on a bier, lies the portrait figure of
the cardinal in his ecclesiastical robes. All this is surrounded by a
square framework, not unlike a mantelpiece in style, on the two upper
corners of which are kneeling angels. The wall space above is
ornamented by angels holding over a simulated window a medallion
containing a Madonna and child.
Our illustration shows this portion of the wall, and includes a part
of the angel figures kneeling at the upper corners of the tomb. The
angel on the left side holds the crown, which is the reward of a
faithful life. It is the "crown of righteousness," the "crown of
life," or the "crown of glory which fadeth not away."[31] His
companion must once have carried a palm branch, according to an old
description, but this has disappeared. The angels bearing the
medallion fly forward as if swimming through the air, alternately
bending the knee and thrusting out the leg. Their draperies flutter
about them in the swiftness of their motion. Such vigorous action is
an unusual motive in decorative art, and perhaps not altogether
appropriate. All four of the angels have delicate features and sweet
expressions.
[Illustration: TOMB OF THE CARDINAL OF PORTUGAL (ANTONIO ROSSELLINO)
_Church of San Miniato, Florence_]
The medallion is, artistically considered, the loveliest portion of
the whole work. The face of the Madonna is of that perfect oval which
artists choose for their ideal of beauty. We admire too the delicately
cut features, the waving hair, and the shapely hands. Both she and the
child look down from their high frame, smiling upon those who may
stand on the pavement below. The child raises his hand in a gesture of
benediction, the three fingers extended as a sign of the trinity.
It is not an easy problem to fit the compositional lines of a group
into a circular frame. Rossellino solved it very prettily by outlining
the figures in a diamond-shaped diagram. You may easily trace the four
sides, drawing one line from the Madonna's head along her right
shoulder, another from her elbow to the finger tip, a third from the
child's toes to his left elbow, a fourth from his elbow to the top of
the mother's veil.
It will be noticed that in the whole decorative scheme of the monument
there is nothing to suggest the idea of mourning. There is here no
sense of gloom in the presence of death. The rejoicing of the angels,
the smile of the mother and child, and the peaceful sleep of the
cardinal, all express the Christian hope of immortality beyond the
grave.
The sentiment is particularly appropriate to the character of the man
whose memory is honored here. The Florentine writer Vespasiano
Bisticci described him as being "of a most amiable nature, a pattern
of humanity, and an abundant fountain of good, through God, to the
poor.... He lived in the flesh as if he were free from it, rather the
life of an angel than a man, and his death was holy as his life."[52]
Allowing something for the extravagance of speech which was the
fashion of that time, we may still believe that the Cardinal of
Portugal was a man whose character was singularly pure in an age when
good men were none too common. Of the sculptor Rossellino also fair
words are spoken. Vasari declared that he "was venerated almost as a
saint for the admirable virtues which he added to his knowledge of
art."
The custom of erecting elaborate marble tombs was an interesting
feature of the Renaissance art in Italy. Such monuments formed an
important part of the interior decoration of churches. Church
dignitaries took great pride in the thought that their names would be
immortalized in these works of art. Some had their tombs made while
still living, that they might make sure of a satisfactory design.[53]
Others gave directions on the subject with their dying breath, as in
Browning's poem, "The Bishop Orders his Tomb at St. Praxed's." Of the
many fine tombs in the churches of Tuscany, this monument of the
Cardinal of Portugal is counted one of the three best.[54]
[Footnote 51: 2 Timothy, chapter iv., verse 8; St. James, chapter i.,
verse 12; 1 Peter, chapter v., verse 4. The symbolism of the crown is
explained in Mrs. Jameson's _Sacred and Legendary Art_, page 28.]
[Footnote 52: In _Vite di Uomini Illustri del Secolo XV_.]
[Footnote 53: As Bishop Salutati, whose tomb is mentioned in Chapter
IV.]
[Footnote 54: By C. C. Perkins in _Tuscan Sculptors_.]
XIV
EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF GATTAMELATA
BY DONATELLO
In the fifteenth century Italy was divided into numerous independent
states, among which there was more or less rivalry. The two great
powers of the north were Venice and Milan, both striving for the
possession of Lombardy. To the Venetian republic already belonged an
extensive territory on the mainland, and she was determined on
conquest at any cost. To this end condottieri were employed to carry
on the several campaigns.
These condottieri were military leaders who made war a business. It
mattered nothing to them on what side they fought or against what
enemy, so long as they were well paid for their services. As a rule
they were men of unscrupulous character, many of whom betrayed the
cause entrusted to them. To this rule a notable exception was
Gattamelata,[55] the subject of the equestrian statue in our
illustration.
The man's real name was Erasmo da Narni. It was as first lieutenant in
the Venetian army that he came into notice, serving under Gonzaga.
When later this Gonzaga went over to the cause of the Milanese enemy,
the lieutenant was promoted to the command. He threw into the work
before him, says the historian, "an honest heart and splendid
faculties."
The Milanese army was much larger than the Venetian, and was commanded
by the famous strategist Niccolo Piccinino. Gattamelata could make
little headway against such odds, but all that was possible to do he
accomplished "with equal courage, fidelity, and zeal." At length, in
attempting to bring relief to the besieged city of Brescia, he found
himself shut in between the Lake of Garda and the Alps.
It was in the month of September, 1438. Snow already lay on the
mountains, and the rivers were swollen with the autumn rains. The
roads were out of repair, bridges were washed away, and even the fords
were impassable. To make matters worse, the army was short of
provisions. Such conditions would have forced any other general to lay
down his arms, but not Gattamelata. With admirable coolness, he led
his men in a retreat across the mountains and around the lake. Three
thousand horsemen and two thousand infantry made up their number, and
all were devoted to their leader. Torrents were bridged, old roads
repaired, new ones opened, and at the end of a month the army emerged
upon the Lombard plain.
[Illustration: EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF GATTAMELATA (DONATELLO) _Piazza
del Santo, Padua_]