Part 4

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 god. In the graceful attitude 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 gods.

The statue of St. George, like that of St. Philip, was originally made to fill one of the niches on the outside of Or San Michele.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 God.

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, passing 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 fictitious, 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 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.

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]

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.

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.

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]