Tuscan Sculpture of the Fifteenth Century Part 5

Naturally the characters of the founders were impressed upon their respective orders. The Dominicans were more aggressive in their methods and zealous in persecuting all forms of heresy. The Franciscans, on the other hand, strove for the higher life of sanct.i.ty. The members of each order wore a distinctive dress, such as we see in our picture. The Franciscan habit was at first gray, and afterwards dark brown; it is gray in the bas-relief. It consisted of a plain tunic with long loose sleeves and a scanty cape to which a hood was attached. A knotted cord fastened the garment around the waist, to remind the wearer that the body is a beast which should be subdued by a halter. The Dominican habit was a white woollen gown fastened about the waist with a girdle. A white scapular was worn over this, and over all, a black cloak with a hood.

We see at once in our picture that St. Dominick is the elder of the two men. There was really a difference of twenty years in their ages, but the artist has made it less. It is as if each, upon seeing the other approach, had hastened forward with outstretched hands. They stand now face to face with interlocked arms in mutual contemplation.

It is a moment of perfect understanding. With widely different ideas of ways and means, they have at heart a single common aim. Both are called to the same great work, and each feels strengthened by the contact.

The profile of St. Francis shows the sensitive lines of his face.

Tradition tells us that he was a man of more than average height, with black eyes, and soft sonorous voice. His expression here is serene, as one would expect of the gentle friar who called all the beasts his brethren, and talked with the birds as familiar companions. St.

Dominick has a more strenuous countenance, and is perhaps more deeply moved than the other. He leans forward and peers into St. Francis's face with an expression of great tenderness. One is reminded of a beautiful verse in one of the Hebrew psalms (the eighty-fifth), "Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other."

The artistic qualities of this relief place it among the best works by Andrea della Robbia. Only a skilful artist could have rendered the draperies with such grace and simplicity. They have been compared with the draperies of the painters Raphael and Bartolommeo. It is said that the faces were left unglazed in order that all the lines of the modelling might be preserved.

[Footnote 33: The lives of both saints are related in _The Golden Legend_. In Caxton's translation (Temple Cla.s.sics) see volume iv., p.

172, for St. Dominick, and volume v., p. 215, for St. Francis. Mrs.

Jameson's _Legends of the Monastic Orders_ contains an admirable account of the character and work of the two men. _The Little Flowers of St. Francis_ is a series of legends collected about two hundred years after his death. There is an English translation by Abby Langdon Alger. Sabatier's _Life of St. Francis_ is an exhaustive biography.]

[Footnote 34: A tradition that St. Francis and St. Dominick met in Florence, on the site of the present Loggia of S. Paolo, accounts for the placing of this bas-relief there. See the Misses Horner's _Walks in Florence_, vol. i., p. 448.]

[Footnote 35: The reader who is familiar with the typical figure of St. Francis in sacred art may miss the sign of the wound print (the stigmata) in his hand. Here Andrea is historically accurate, as the vision of St. Francis occurred four years after the confirmation of the Order.]

IX

ST. GEORGE

BY DONATELLO

In the third century of the present era lived the Christian knight George of Cappadocia. Going forth after the usual knightly fas.h.i.+on in search of adventures, he came to the province of Libya. The country was at that time ravaged by a dragon whose lair was a great pond near the royal city of Silene. When the monster came forth the air was filled with the poisonous vapor of his breath. To insure the safety of the city two sheep were daily given to feed him.

At length the supply failed, and now the people had to give their own children. The victims were chosen by lot, and after many had perished the lot fell upon the beautiful princess Cleodolinda. The king besought the people to spare his daughter, offering gold and silver for her ransom. They would have none of it, but declared that the princess must meet her fate. Arrayed as for her bridal, she was led out to the place where the dragon was wont to come for his prey.

While she stood here weeping, St. George chanced to ride by and inquired the cause of her distress. Hearing her pitiable story he a.s.sured her she had nothing to fear. Just then the dragon came in sight, and the knight, charging full upon him, wounded him with his sword. Then taking the girdle of theprincess, he tied it about the neck of the beast and led him into the city. The people all came out to see the wonder, and in the presence of a great company St. George smote off the dragon's head.

The further adventures of the knight were in behalf of the Christians, who were persecuted by the Emperor Diocletian. Selling all that he had, he gave it to the poor and boldly denounced the pagans. All sorts of tortures were devised to force him to renounce his faith, but in every persecution he was miraculously preserved from harm. At length the provost caused him to be beheaded, and offering his last prayers St. George went to his death.

In our statue St. George is represented as a warrior standing at rest while he surveys the enemy. His young figure is as straight as an arrow. The litheness of his body is apparent even through his armor.

He holds his head erect in conscious power, yet with no arrogance.

Evidently he measures the difficulty carefully, for he seems to knit his brows as he looks abroad. He has a gentle face, but it is thoroughly masculine.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ST. GEORGE (DONATELLO) _National Museum, Florence_]

The hands are beautiful, and full of character, large and flexible.

The left one rests on a s.h.i.+eld which bears the sign of the cross. The armor, we see, has a more than literal significance. This is the "s.h.i.+eld of faith" wherewith the Christian shall be able "to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." St. George is the impersonation of the soldier who wars "not against flesh and blood, but against princ.i.p.alities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."[36]

The figure naturally suggests comparison with antique sculpture. We are reminded of Apollo or Hermes as the Greeks loved to represent them.[37] The beautiful head with its curling hair is indeed that of a G.o.d. In the graceful att.i.tude also, the sculptor, Donatello, has perfectly expressed the sense of repose which was characteristic of Greek sculpture. We note, however, that while a Greek statue would have been nude St. George is clad in armor. The expression of the countenance is, moreover, quite foreign to the Greek temper. Those knitted brows show a strenuousness of character incompatible with the serenity of the G.o.ds.

The statue of St. George, like that of St. Philip, was originally made to fill one of the niches on the outside of Or San Michele. Below it was a bas-relief representing the slaying of the dragon. The work was the gift of the Guild of Sword Makers and Armorers, whose patron saint was the Knight of Cappadocia. In an exposed position on the church the precious marble was injured by the weather. Accordingly it was removed to a museum, and a bronze copy was set up in its place.

The popularity of St. George is by no means confined to Italy. In England too his memory is held in great respect. "For England and St.

George" was an old battle-cry which linked the name of the patron saint with that of the native land. His character is our ideal of the Christian hero, chivalrous towards the weak, courageous in danger, and devoted above all things to the service of G.o.d.

Donatello's statue embodies this ideal, and is his highest imaginative work. Being chiefly interested in the study of expression, he often seemed to care very little whether his subjects were beautiful or not.

Here beauty and expressiveness are united.

There is an old tradition that Michelangelo, pa.s.sing one day the church of Or San Michele, paused before the St. George and exclaimed "Cammina!" that is, "Forward, march!" The story is doubtless purely fict.i.tious, but it shows how lifelike the statue appears. As an old writer (Vasari) put it, "Life seems to move within that stone."

[Footnote 36: Ephesians, chapter vi., verses 16 and 12.]

[Footnote 37: See chapters VI. and XI. in the volume on _Greek Sculpture_, in the Riverside Art Series.]

X

BAMBINO

BY ANDREA DELLA ROBBIA

The visitor in Florence threading his way through the narrow streets comes out with delight into the s.p.a.cious 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 s.p.a.ces 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 ill.u.s.tration. 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. Pa.s.sing 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 inst.i.tution: 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 ill.u.s.tration 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 pa.s.sed 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 ill.u.s.trate 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_.]