Part 17

(The little room beyond again contains a small but interesting collection of =Early Christian works= which must be visited and studied on some other occasion. These very ancient Christian sculptures, antique in conception, antedate the rise of the conventional representations.)

Now return through Room VI to the =Salle de Michel Ange= (Room V), containing for the most part still more developed works of the Italian Renaissance, which therefore stand more directly in connection with French sculpture of that and the succeeding period. The =*doorway= by which we enter is a splendid specimen of a decorated Italian Renaissance portal, removed from the Palazzo Stanga at Cremona; it was executed by the brothers Rodari at the end of the 15th century, and is decorated with medallions of Roman Emperors, a figure of Hercules (the mythical founder of Cremona), and of Perseus, together with reliefs from the myths of those heroes and others. Identify these. Above the name of Perseus, for example (to the R), is a relief representing the three Gorgons and the head of Pegasus. Above that of Hercules (L) are the heads of the Hydra which he slew (as also represented in a bronze on the end wall not far from it). This gateway you should mentally compare, when you visit the École des Beaux-Arts, with that of Diane de Poitiers’ Château d’Anet now erected in the courtyard and with the _façade_ of the Château de Gaillon at the same place. The beautiful Italian Renaissance fountain in the centre of the room comes itself from the same Château de Gaillon: it was given to Cardinal d’Amboise (who built the Château) by the Republic of Venice.

The most beautiful works in this room, however, are the two so-called =*Fettered Slaves=, by Michael Angelo—in reality figures of the Virtues, designed for the monument of Julius II. It was Michael Angelo’s fate seldom to finish anything he began. This splendid monument, interrupted by the too early death of the Pope who commissioned it, was to have embraced (among other features) figures of the Virtues, doomed to extinction by the death of the pontiff. These are two of them: the one to the right, unfinished, is of less interest: =**=that to the left, completed, is of the exquisite beauty which this sculptor often gave to nude youthful male figures. They represent the culminating point of the Italian Renaissance, and should be compared with the equally lovely sculptures of the Medici tombs in San Lorenzo at Florence. Observe them well as typical examples of Michael Angelo’s gigantic power and mastery over marble.

You will note in the windows close by several exquisite =bronze reliefs=; eight of them, by Riccio, are from the monument of the famous anatomist, Della Torre, representing his life and death in very classical detail. (L window) Della Torre lecturing at Verona; dangerously ill; sacrifice to the gods for his recovery; his death and mourning: (R window) his obsequies; passage of the soul (as a naked child with a book) in Charon’s boat (pursued by Furies); apotheosis (crowned by Fame); and celebrity of the deceased on earth; all designed in a thoroughly antique manner. (Souls of the recently dead are frequently represented leaving the body like new-born children.) This work shows the Renaissance not only as secular and humanist but even as pagan: early ages would have considered such treatment impious. All the other reliefs in this very important room should be carefully noted. By this (R) window, the Annunciation (from Cremona); Judgment of Solomon (now wholly conceived in the classical spirit); Adoration of the Magi, in bronze; figures of Galba and Faustina, entirely antique in tone; Paul shaking off the snake, etc. A portrait medallion of Ludovico il Moro of Milan (also by this window) may be instructively compared with those in contemporary Italian paintings upstairs. The next (L) window (with a rosso antico and marble imitation of the Wolf of the Capitol) contains the beginning of the reliefs from the tomb of Della Torre, in the same classical style, together with two exquisite Madonnas by =Mino da Fiesole=, and other charming works of the same period. The infantile simplicity of Mino has an unspeakable attraction. Between the windows, a Pietà from Vicenza, with St. Jerome, beating his breast as always with a stone, and St. Augustine (I think) writing. On the far wall, note a fine wooden Annunciation in two figures, from Pisa, of the Florentine 14th cent. The angel Gabriel and the Madonna are frequently thus separated. Between them, admirable equestrian figure of Robert Malatesta, of Rimini, where the action of the horse is particularly spirited. Fine bust of Filippo Strozzi by Benedetto da Majano on a pedestal close by. (You will find many works by this artist for this patron at Florence.) The various Virgins on the R wall should also be carefully studied, as well as the fine wooden Circumcision—a good rendering of the traditional scene, where the artist triumphs over his intractable material—and the exquisitely dainty bust of the Florentine =**=Baptist, instinct with the tender simplicity of Mino da Fiesole, whose decorative fragments above must not be overlooked. Do not leave this room without having carefully examined everything it contains, as every object is deserving of study. [For instance, I have omitted to mention works so fine as the self-explanatory High Renaissance Jason, the relief of Julius Cæsar, the splendid bust of Beatrice d’Este (see for this family the Perugino, etc., upstairs), and the spirited bronze of Michael Angelo, lined with the lines of a thinker who has struggled and suffered.] Finally, sit long on the bench between the windows, and look well at the =Nymph of Fontainebleau=, with stag and wild boar, by Benvenuto Cellini, the great Florentine metal-worker whom François I^{er} commissioned to produce this work for Fontainebleau. (But Henri II gave it instead to Diane de Poitiers, for her Château d’Anet.) Cellini’s work gave an immense impetus to French sculpture, and it is largely on his style that Jean Goujon and the great French sculptors we have shortly to examine formed their conceptions. Voluptuous and overlithe, this fine relief is a splendid example of its able, unscrupulous, deft-handed artist—seldom powerful or deep, yet always exquisite in tone and perfect in handicraft.

Now, in order to form a just conception of the rise of the =French school of sculpture=, traverse the Salle de Jean Goujon and the other rooms which succeed it, till you come to the last room of the suite—officially No. I—the =Salle d’André Beauneveu=. This vault-like hall contains works of the =Early French School= of the 13th, 14th, and 15th cent., still for the most part purely Gothic, and uninfluenced in any way by Italian models. Among them we notice, at the far end of the room, near the door which leads into the Egyptian Museum, several statuettes of Our Lady and Child, of a character with which Cluny has already made us acquainted. Invariably crowned and noble, they represent the Madonna as the Queen of Heaven, not the peasant of Bethlehem. This regal conception and, still more, the faint simper, are intensely French, and mark them off at once from most Italian Madonnas. Further on, by the end window, the figures of angels, of St. John Baptist, and of a nameless king, are also thoroughly French in character; while the dainty little Burgundian choir of angels, holding, as they sing, a scroll with a Gloria, is in type half German. Note also the numerous =recumbent effigies from tombs=, among the best of which are those of Catherine d’Alençon and of Anne of Burgundy, Duchess of Bedford. The tombs at this end have still the stiff formality of the early Gothic period. The strange recumbent figure in the centre, supported by most funereal mourners (placed too low to be seen properly), is the tomb of Philippe Pot, Grand Seneschal of Burgundy under John the Good, from the Abbey of Citeaux. Such mourners are characteristic of the monumental art of Burgundy. One more occurs under a canopy near the middle window: you will recollect to have seen others (from the tomb of Philippe le Hardi) at Cluny. Further on in the room we get more Madonnas whose marked French type you will now be able to recognise. Good recumbent figures of a bishop, and of Philip VI, sufficiently described by the labels, and other excellent statues, one of the best of which is the child in the centre. The king and queen by the doorway are also fine examples of the art of the 15th cent. Notice the dates of all these figures, as given by the labels, and convince yourself from them (as you can do still more fully in the next room) that French art itself made a =domestic advance= from the 11th cent., onward, wholly independent of Italian influence. This advance was due in the main to national development, and to the slow recovery of trade and handicraft from the barbarian irruption. What was peculiar to Italy was the large survival of antique works, which the School of Pisa, and others after them, strove to imitate. In France, till François I^{er}, no such classical influence intervenes: the development is all home-made and organic. But if you contrast the busts by the W doorway, or the tombstone of Pierre de Fayet, near them, with the ruder work by the first window in the next room, the reality of this advance will become at once apparent to you. The artists, though still hampered by tradition, are striving to attain higher perfection and greater truth to nature. Do not miss in this connection the excellent wooden Flagellation by the middle window: nor the Madonna opposite it; nor the donor and donatrix close by; nor the fine mutilated Annunciation (with lily between the figures) by the W window; nor the well-carved Nativity (clearly Flemish, however) near the seat by the doorway. In this last, observe the quaint head-dress of the donatrix in the background (an unusual position) as well as the conventional ox and ass, and the Three Kings approaching in the upper right-hand corner, balanced by the shepherds listening to the angels. St. Joseph’s candle is, however, a novelty. I merely note these points to show how much there may often be in seemingly unimportant objects. This is officially called an Adoration of the Shepherds, but if you look into it, you will see, erroneously. The person entering from behind is a mere modern spectator. Study well the works in this room and the next, regarded as a =starting-point=.

In the =passage= leading into the next room are a truncated statue of St. Denis, from his Basilica (to be visited later), and, beyond it, a group of Hell from the same church. Notice the usual realistic jaws of death, vomiting flame and swallowing the wicked. Observe also that souls are always represented as nude. Opposite this, a mutilated fragment of St. Denis bearing his head, and accompanied by his two deacons, St. Rusticus and St. Eleutherius. I have not hitherto called attention to these two attendant deacons, but you will find them present in almost all representations of St. Denis. (Look for them among the paintings.) Try to build up your knowledge in this way, by adding point to point as you proceed, and afterwards returning to works earlier visited, which will gain fresh light by comparison with those seen during your more recent investigations.

Enter Room II: =Salle du Moyen Age=. Notice, first, the fragments by the window; those numbered 19 to 22 are good typical examples of the rude work of the Romanesque period (10th to 12th cents.). 23, beside them, shows the improvement which came in with the Gothic epoch, as well as the distinctive Gothic tone in execution,—softer, and rounder, with just a touch of foolish infantile simplicity or inanity. Observe all the other heads here, and compare their dates, as shown on the labels. Two beautiful angels, from the tomb of the brother of St. Louis, will indicate this gradual advance in execution, wholly anterior to any Renaissance influence. On the R side of the window, notice particularly an admirable head of the Virgin, 76, and another near it, from the cathedral of Sées. On the pillar, St. Denis bearing his head. Every one of these capitals and heads should be closely noted, with reference to the dates shown on the label. In the little Madonna on the L hand window, observe a nascent attempt to introduce an element of playfulness which is characteristically French. This increases later. It develops into the grace—the somewhat meretricious grace—of more recent French sculpture.

Now turn to the body of the room. R wall, 53, an excellent angel. Beyond it, the Preaching of St. Denis; observe that he is here attended by his two faithful deacons; the gateway indicates that he preaches at Paris. Such little side-indications are common in early art: look out for them. Above it, Christ in Hades, redeeming Adam and Eve, as the first fruits of the souls, from Limbo; the devil bound in chains on the ground beneath them; you saw several similar works at Cluny. Further on, another Madonna and Child, with the same attempt at playfulness; notice here Our Lady’s slight simper, a very French feature; the Child carries a goldfinch, which you will frequently find, if you look for it, in other representations, both French and Italian. The coloured relief of Pilate recalls those in the ambulatory at Notre-Dame. (Read in every case the date and place whence brought here.) Beneath it are the Flagellation, Bearing of the Cross, Crucifixion, and Entombment, which may be profitably compared with other examples.

(If, after observing the French type of Madonna in these rooms, and the few Burgundian works they contain, you have time to revisit the Mediæval Sculpture at Cluny—Room VI, ground floor—as I strongly advise you to do, you will find that =Burgundian art= in the Middle Ages was quite distinct from French, and had types of its own, approximating to the Flemish, and still more to the German. This is well seen in the Burgundian Madonna and St. Catherine at Cluny. For study of the style, it is a good plan to stop at =Dijon= on your way to or from Switzerland.)

The end of the room is occupied by a Gothic doorway from a house in Valencia (Spain), which may be contrasted with the scarcely later Renaissance example from the Palazzo Stanga. On its top is an Annunciation, representations of which are frequent in similar situations; we saw one on the façade of St. Étienne du Mont; in such cases, the Madonna is almost always separated by some form of wall, door, or ornament from the angel Gabriel; here, the finial represents the usual pot of lilies. Below it, a very characteristic French Madonna, again slightly smirking, and with the Child bearing the goldfinch. Note once more the royal air, the affected ladylike manner, given to the Madonna in early French sculpture and painting. To its L, a similar regal painted Madonna. To the R, gorgeous coloured statue of King Childebert, of the 13th cent.: this once stood at the entrance to the beautiful refectory of the Abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés (see later) which Childebert founded, and where the king was buried. L wall, fragment of a coloured stone relief, Judas receiving payment: of the same type as those in Notre-Dame. Further on, a similar Kiss of Judas. (Compare this with several specimens at Cluny.) The mutilated state of many of these fragments is in several instances due to the Revolution. All the other statues and fragments in this compartment should be carefully examined, including the strange scene from a Hell, and the stiff wooden Madonna, on pedestals in the centre. By the doorway, painted Virgin and Child,—the Madonna under a little canopy, and very typical of French conceptions.

Room III, =Salle de Michel Colombe=, represents the =advance= made =in French plastic art= during the last half of the 15th cent., and the beginning of the 16th cent., in some cases independently of the Italian Renaissance. The bust of François I^{er}, in bronze, on a pedestal near the door, may be compared, both for spirit and likeness, with the (very wooden) contemporary portraits of the same king in the French School upstairs. It has all the stiffness and archaic fidelity of early portraiture, with the usual lack of artistic finish. Note such little points as that the king wears the collar of his order, with the St. Michael of France as a pendant. Near the window, fragments of work displaying Renaissance influence. One, a relief of the Return of the Master, from the Château de Gaillon (built by Cardinal d’Amboise, minister of Louis XII, and one of the great patrons of the Renaissance in France), exhibits the beginning of a taste for secular, domestic, and rustic subjects, which later became general. (Early work is all sacred—then comes mythical—lastly, human and contemporary.) Note on the opposite side, the fine bronze of Henri Blondel de Rocquencourt, under Henri II. The Apollo and Marsyas is strongly Renaissance—a mythic subject (see the Perugino upstairs). The Massacre of the Innocents exhibits Renaissance treatment of a scriptural scene. The =centre of the room= is occupied by fine =bronzes= of the school of Giovanni da Bologna, a Frenchman who worked in Italy and forms a link between the art of the two countries. Observe the decorative French slenderness and coquetry of form, combined with the influence of the Italian Renaissance. The Mercury—light and airy—is a replica of Giovanni da Bologna’s own famous statue in the Bargello at Florence. The Mercury and Psyché beside it is a splendid example of Giovanni da Bologna’s school, by Adrian de Vries. Notice the French tinge in the voluptuous treatment of the nude, and the slenderness and grace of the limbs. The bronze statue of Fame, from the tomb of the Duc d’Epernon, exhibits in a less degree the same characteristics. It is obviously suggested by Giovanni’s Mercury.

Along the wall to the L, the most noticeable work is the splendid =**=marble relief of St. George, by the great French sculptor Michel Colombe, produced for the chapel of the Château de Gaillon; recollect all these Gaillon objects, and their connection with one another: the château was erected under Louis XII, at the dawn of the French Renaissance, and much of its work, like this fine relief, shows a considerable surviving Gothic feeling. You will see the façade of the château later at the École des Beaux-Arts. It is interesting to compare this splendid piece of sculpture with the little Della Robbia in the Italian rooms, and the painting by Raphael upstairs: the dragon here is a fearsome and very mediæval monster; but the St. George and his horse are full of life and spirit; and the fleeing Princess in the background is delicately French in attitude and conception. The dragon is biting the saint’s lance, which accounts for its broken condition in the Raphael and the Mantegna. Comparison of the various St. Georges in this collection, indeed, will give you an admirable idea of the way in which a single conventional theme, embracing always the very same elements, is modified by national character and by the individuality of the artist. To understand this is to have grasped art-history. (Note that the legend of St. George itself is in one aspect a Christianisation of the myth of Perseus and Andromeda.)

Beneath the St. George stands a fine Dead Christ, also exhibiting characteristic French treatment. The somewhat insipid but otherwise excellent Madonna and Child, on a pedestal close by, is admirable as exemplifying the transformation of the smirking Madonnas of the Middle Ages into the type of the Renaissance. The Death of the Virgin, near it, from St. Jacques-de-la-Boucherie (of which only the tower now remains), suggests to one’s mind the riches which must once have belonged to the demolished churches of Paris,—mostly, alas! destroyed at the great Revolution. Observe in this work the figures of the attendant apostles, the Renaissance architecture of the background, and the soul of the Madonna ascending above, escorted by angels, to heaven. More naïve, and somewhat in the earlier style, is the Nativity above it, flanked by the two St. Johns, the Baptist and the Evangelist. The tomb of Philippe de Commynes also illustrates the older feeling, as yet little influenced by the Italian irruption. Note that the works which betray the greatest Italian influence are chiefly connected with the =royal= châteaux and palaces of François I^{er} and his Italianate successors, or their wives and mistresses; the =nation= as yet is little touched by the new models.

The bronze tomb of Alberto Pio of Savoy, by Ponzio, on the other hand, exhibits strongly the Italian tendency, and should be compared with the earlier recumbent tombs, behind in Room I, as showing the survival of the mediæval type, transmuted and completely revivified. The same may be said of the tomb of Philippe de Chabot, which, however, is more distinctively French and much less markedly Italian. See how the early prostrate effigies become here recumbent: the figure, as it were, is trying to raise itself. In comparing the various works in this room, endeavour to note these interlacing points of resemblance and difference. The beautiful Genii above are parts of the same tomb, and are exquisite examples of the minor work of the French Renaissance. Passing the Italian Tacca’s admirable bust of Giovanni da Bologna, we come to an excellent Entombment, of the French School, from St. Eustache, which should be compared with earlier specimens in the adjacent rooms. Beneath it, a fine fragment by Jean Cousin. Still lower, a Passage of the Red Sea, beginning to display that confused composition and lack of unity or simplicity which spoiled the art of the later 16th and 17th centuries. The fine Madonna and Child close by should be compared with the very similar example opposite, as well as with its predecessors in other centuries. (Comparison of varying versions of the _same_ theme is always more instructive than that of different subjects.) The tomb of Abbot Jean de Cromois, with its Renaissance framework, shows a survival of earlier tendencies; as does also that of Roberte Legendre, though the figures of Faith and Hope (Charity is missing) are distinctly more recent in type than the recumbent effigy. Those who have time to notice and hunt up the =coats of arms= on the various tombs will often find they shed interesting light on their subjects. Observe also the =churches= from which these various monuments have been removed, a point which will fit in with your previous or subsequent knowledge of the buildings in many cases.

The =last window= contains a few works of the =German School=, which it is interesting to compare with their French contemporaries. Thus, the shrewd, pragmatical, diplomatic head of Frederick the Pacific, a coarse, cunning self-seeker, is excellently contrasted with the French portrait-busts. The little scene of the Holy Family, after Dürer, which should be closely studied, is essentially German in the domestic character of its carpenter’s shop, in the broad peasant faces of its Madonna and attendant angels, in the playful touches of the irreverent cherubs, and in the figure of the Almighty appearing in clouds at the summit of the composition. The Kiss of Judas, opposite it, is also characteristically German; notice the brutal soldiers, whose like we have seen in woodwork at Cluny: the bluff St. Peter with the sword is equally noteworthy; in the background are separate episodes, such as the Agony in the Garden; though officially ascribed to the French School, this is surely the work of a deft but unideal German artist. Do not neglect the many beautiful =decorative fragments= collected in this room, nor the fine busts, mostly of a somewhat later period.