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TUSCAN SCULPTURE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY

A Collection of Sixteen Pictures Reproducing Works by Donatello,
the Della Robbia, Mino da Fiesole, and Others, with Introduction
and Interpretation

      *      *      *      *      *      *


                         RIVERSIDE ART SERIES

                          1. RAPHAEL
                          2. REMBRANDT
                          3. MICHELANGELO
                          4. MILLET
                          5. REYNOLDS
                          6. MURILLO
                          7. GREEK SCULPTURE
                          8. TITIAN
                          9. LANDSEER
                         10. CORREGGIO
                         11. TUSCAN SCULPTURE
                         12. VAN DYCK

Representative pictures by famous Artists, with interpretative text
and portrait of the painter. Edited by ESTELLE M. HURLL. Each volume,
crown 8vo, 75 cents, net; _School Edition_, linen, 50 cents, net;
paper, 35 cents, net.


                       HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
                         Boston and New York

      *      *      *      *      *      *

[Illustration: IL MARZOCCO (DONATELLO) National Museum, Florence]


The Riverside Art Series


TUSCAN SCULPTURE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY

A Collection of Sixteen Pictures Reproducing Works by Donatello,
the Della Robbia, Mino da Fiesole, and Others, with Introduction
and Interpretation

by

ESTELLE M. HURLL







Boston and New York
Houghton, Mifflin and Company

The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1902

Copyright, 1902, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

Published March, 1902.




PREFACE


This little collection is intended as a companion volume to "Greek
Sculpture," a previous issue of the Riverside Art Series. The two sets
of pictures, studied side by side, illustrate clearly the difference
in the spirit animating the two art periods represented.

The Tuscan sculpture of the Renaissance was developed under a variety
of forms, of which as many as possible are included in the limits of
our book: the equestrian statue, the sepulchral monument, the ideal
statue of saint and hero, as well as various forms of decorative art
applied to the beautifying of churches and public buildings both
without and within.

ESTELLE M. HURLL.
NEW BEDFORD, MASS.
February, 1902.




CONTENTS AND LIST OF PICTURES

                                                                  PAGE
IL MARZOCCO (THE HERALDIC LION OF FLORENCE)
. By Donatello Frontispiece

INTRODUCTION

      I. ON SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF TUSCAN SCULPTURE
           OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY                                vii
     II. ON BOOKS OF REFERENCE                                      xi
    III. HISTORICAL DIRECTORY OF THE WORKS IN THIS COLLECTION     xiii
     IV. TABLE OF BIOGRAPHICAL DATA                                xvi
   I. MUSICAL ANGELS. By Donatello                                   1
  II. ST. PHILIP. By Nanni di Banco                                  7
 III. ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST. By Donatello                            13
  IV. THE INFANT JESUS AND ST. JOHN. By Mino da Fiesole             19
   V. BOYS WITH CYMBALS. By Luca della Robbia                       25
  VI. TOMB OF ILARIA DEL CARRETTO (Detail). By Jacopo
        della Quercia                                               31
 VII. MADONNA AND CHILD (Detail of lunette). By Luca
        della Robbia                                                37
VIII. THE MEETING OF ST. FRANCIS AND ST. DOMINICK. By
        Andrea della Robbia                                         43
  IX. ST. GEORGE. By Donatello                                      49
   X. BAMBINO. By Andrea della Robbia                               55
  XI. THE ANNUNCIATION. By Andrea della Robbia                      61
 XII. THE ASCENSION. By Luca della Robbia                           67
XIII. TOMB OF THE CARDINAL OF PORTUGAL. By Antonio
        Rossellino                                                  73
 XIV. EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF GATTAMELATA. By Donatello                79
  XV. SHRINE. By Mino da Fiesole                                    86
 XVI. IL MARZOCCO (THE HERALDIC LION OF FLORENCE)
        By Donatello (See Frontispiece)                             91

PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES AND FOREIGN WORDS            95

NOTE: With one exception the pictures were made from photographs
by Alinari; the "Musical Angels" was made from a photograph
by Naya.




INTRODUCTION

I. ON SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF TUSCAN SCULPTURE
   IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.


"The Italian sculptors of the earlier half of the fifteenth century
are more than mere forerunners of the great masters of its close, and
often reach perfection within the narrow limits which they chose to
impose on their work. Their sculpture shares with the paintings of
Botticelli and the churches of Brunelleschi that profound
expressiveness, that intimate impress of an indwelling soul, which is
the peculiar fascination of the art of Italy in that century."

These words of Walter Pater define admirably the quality which, in
varying degree, runs through the work of men of such differing methods
as Donatello, the della Robbia, Mino da Fiesole, and Rossellino. It is
the quality of expressiveness as distinguished from that abstract or
generalized character which belongs to Greek sculpture. Greek
sculpture, it is true, taught some of these artists how to study
nature, but it did not satisfy Christian ideals. The subjects demanded
of the Tuscans were entirely foreign to Greek experience. The saints
and martyrs of the Christian era were at the opposite pole from the
gods and heroes of antiquity. Hence the aim of the new sculpture was
the manifestation of the soul, as that of the classic art had been
the glorification of the body.

Jacopo della Quercia was one of the oldest of the sculptors whose work
extended into the fifteenth century, being already twenty-five years
of age when that century began. Standing thus in the period of
transition between the old and the new, his work unites the influence
of mediaeval tradition with a distinctly new element. His bas-reliefs
on the portal of S. Petronio at Bologna are probably his most
characteristic work. The tomb of Ilaria del Carretto is in a class by
itself: "In composition, the gravest and most tranquil of his works,
and in conception, full ofbeauty and feeling."[1]

Donatello is undoubtedly the greatest name in Italian sculpture
previous to Michelangelo. The kinship between these two men was
felicitously expressed in Vasari's quotation from "the most learned
and very reverend" Don Vicenzo Borghini: "Either the spirit of Donato
worked in Buonarroti, or that of Buonarroti first acted in Donato."
Vitality, force, action, suggestiveness, character, such are the words
which spring to the lips in the presence of both masters.

The range of Donatello's art was phenomenal, from works of such
magnitude as the equestrian statue of Gattamelata, to the decorative
panels for the altar of S. Antonio at Padua. At times he was an
uncompromising realist, as in his statue of the bald old man, the
Zuccone, who figured as King David. Again he showed himself capable of
lofty idealism, as in the beautiful and heroic St. George. Which way
his own tastes leaned we may judge from his favorite asseveration,
"By my Zuccone." The point is that it mattered nothing to him whether
his model was beautiful or ugly, whether he wrought out an ideal of
his imagination or studied the character of an actual individual; his
first care was to make the figure live. In consequence his art has
what a critic has called "a robustness and a sanity" which have made
it "a wellspring of inspiration to lesser men."

The only subject practically left out of Donatello's work was woman.
Children afforded him all the material he needed for the more
decorative forms of his art. For the rest the problems which
interested him most were perhaps best worked out in the study of the
male figure.

A recent biographer of Donatello, Hope Rea, points out some
interesting characteristics of his technical workmanship. In every
work subsequent to his St. Mark, "the hair," she says, "is conspicuous
by its appearance of living growth." And again, explaining the
excellence of his drapery, she shows how he went beyond the ordinary
consideration of the general flow and line of the stuffs, to a study
of the sections of the folds. Hence drapery with him "is not only an
arrangement of lines for decorative effect, or a covering for the
figure, but it is a beauty in itself, filled with the living air."

Nanni di Banco is a name naturally associated with that of Donatello,
not only on account of the friendship between the two, but from the
fact that both worked on the church of Or San Michele. Nanni was one
of the smaller men whose work is overshadowed by the fame of a great
contemporary. His art has not sufficient distinction to give it a
prominent place; yet it is not without good qualities. Marcel Reymond
insists that the public has not yet appreciated the just merits of
this neglected sculptor. In his opinion the St. Philip was the
inspiration of Donatello's St. Mark, while Nanni's St. Eloi had an
influence upon St. George.

With Luca della Robbia began the "reign of the bas-relief," as Marcel
Reymond characterizes the period of fifty years between Donatello and
Michelangelo. Women and children were the special subjects of this
sculptor's art, and it is perhaps in the Madonna and Child that we see
his most characteristic touch. How well he could represent spirited
action, we see in some of the panels of the organ gallery. How
dignified was his sense of repose, is seen in the lunette of the
Ascension.

Much as he cared for expression,--"expression carried to its highest
intensity of degree," as Walter Pater put it,--he never found it
necessary to secure this expression at the cost of beauty. That he
studied nature at first hand his works are clear evidence, but that
did not preclude the choice of attractive subjects. His style is "so
sober and contained," writes a recent critic, "so delicate and yet so
healthy, so lovely and yet so free from prettiness, so full of
sentiment, and devoid of sentimentality, that it is hard to find words
for any critical characterization."[2] "Simplicity and nobility," the
words of Cavalucci and Molinier, is perhaps the best phrase in which
to sum up the art of Luca della Robbia.

In his nephew, Andrea della Robbia, the founder of the school had a
successor whose best work is worthy of the master's teaching. If he
lacked the simplicity and severity of the older man, he surpassed him
in depth of Christian sentiment. Sometimes, it is true, his tenderness
verges on weakness, his devoutness on pietism. If we are tempted to
charge him with monotony we must remember what pressure was brought
upon a man whose works attained such immense popularity. The bambini
of the Foundling Hospital and the Meeting of St. Francis and St.
Dominick show the high level to which his art could rise.

Antonio Rossellino and Mino da Fiesole may be classed together as
sculptors to whom decorative effect was of first importance; they
loved line and form for their intrinsic beauty. They delighted in
elaborate and well ordered compositions. Elegance of design, delicacy
and refinement in handling, are invariable qualities of their work.
Such qualities were especially to be desired in the making of those
sepulchral monuments which were so numerous in their period. Of the
many fine works of this class in Tuscany each of these two sculptors
contributed at least one of the best examples.

It is superfluous to point out that the sweetness of these sculptors
is perilously near the insipid, their grace too often formal. We are
brought to realize the true greatness of the men when we behold the
grave and tranquil beauty of the effigy of the Cardinal of Portugal,
or the vigorous characterization of the bust of Bishop Salutati.

It is John Addington Symonds who says the final word when he declares
that the charm of the works of such men as Mino and Rossellino "can
scarcely be defined except by similes." And these are the images which
this master of similes calls up to our mind as we contemplate their
works: "The innocence of childhood, the melody of a lute or a song
bird as distinguished from the music of an orchestra, the rathe tints
of early dawn, cheerful light on shallow streams, the serenity of a
simple and untainted nature that has never known the world."

[Footnote 1: Sidney Colvin.]

[Footnote 2: Notes on _Vasari's Lives_, edited by E. H.
    and E. W. Blashfield and A. A. Hopkins.]




II. ON BOOKS OF REFERENCE.


There are but few works devoted exclusively to the subject of Italian
Renaissance sculpture. For many years American students seeking
information in this direction have relied chiefly upon the works of C.
C. Perkins: "Tuscan Sculptors" (2 vols.), London, 1864; "Italian
Sculptors" (in Northern, Southern and Eastern Italy), London, 1868;
and finally the volume which unites and revises the material of both
earlier works, "Historical Handbook of Italian Sculpture," New York,
1883.

The recent work of Marcel Reymond, "La Sculpture Florentine,"
Florence, 1898, has been heartily welcomed by students of all
nationalities. It consists of four volumes, all well illustrated,
devoted respectively to: (1) Les Predecesseurs de l'Ecole Florentineet
la Sculpture Florentine au XIV^e siecle [The Precursors of the
Florentine School and Florentine Sculpture of the 14th Century]. (2)
Premiere moitie du XV^e siecle [First half of the 15th century]. (3)
Seconde moitie du XV^e siecle [Second half of the 15th century]. (4)
Le XVI^e siecle et les Successeurs de l'Ecole Florentine [The 16th
Century and the Successors of the Florentine School]. As it has not
been translated into English this work is not so widely read by the
general public as it should be, but it is probably to be found in most
large libraries.

A newly published book, "Italian Sculpture of the Renaissance," by L.
J. Freeman, M. A., appears just as this volume goes to press. It is a
brief survey, critical and interpretative, of the principal works of
the most prominent Florentine sculptors of the period, with some
account of the characteristics of the early and later Renaissance
work. Some forty fine illustrations elucidate the study.

Of the general works on the history of art from which material on our
subject may be drawn, the most important is of course Vasari's
"Lives." In the recently revised English version, edited by E. H. and
E. W. Blashfield and A. A. Hopkins (New York, 1897), are some valuable
footnotes summing up the characteristics of the individual sculptors.

Of inestimable value for purposes of serious study are the volumes by
Eugene Muentz, "Histoire de l'Art pendant la Renaissance." The material
bearing on the sculptors illustrated in this present collection is
found in his volume devoted to "Les Primitifs" (Paris, 1889). Those to
whom the French text presents no difficulty will derive much benefit
from the study of this book, which may be consulted in the large
public libraries.

A book available to all, and of a delightfully popular nature, is the
volume on "The Fine Arts" in John Addington Symonds's series of The
Renaissance in Italy. This writer had a remarkable gift for putting
much suggestive comment into a compact and readable form.

General histories of sculpture allotting a proportionate space to the
consideration of the Italian sculptors of the Renaissance are, by Lucy
Baxter, "Sculpture, Renaissance and Modern" (New York, 1891); Luebke,
"History of Sculpture," translated from the German by F. E. Bunnett
(London, 1878); Allan Marquand and A. L. Frothingham, "Textbook of the
History of Sculpture" (New York, 1896).

A special study of the work of Donatello is made by Hope Rea in a
volume of the series of Handbooks of the Great Masters in Painting and
Sculpture. A complete list of the sculptor's works is given. Luca
della Robbia is the subject of two important French works: by
Cavalucci and Molinier, "Les Della Robbia" (Paris, 1884); by Marcel
Reymond, "Les Della Robbia" (Florence, 1897). There is a chapter on
Luca della Robbia in Walter Pater's "Studies in the History of the
Renaissance" (1890), and another in Mrs. Van Rensselaer's "Six
Portraits" (Boston, 1889).

Mrs. Oliphant has written pleasantly both of Donatello and of Luca
della Robbia in "The Makers of Florence."




III. HISTORICAL DIRECTORY OF THE WORKS IN THIS COLLECTION.


Frontispiece. _Il Marzocco_ (the heraldic lion of Florence).
(Donatello.) Made of pietra serena and originally placed on the
_ringhiera_ of the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence. Now in the National
Museum (Bargello) of that city, while a bronze copy occupies its place
in front of the palace.

1. _Musical Angels._ (Donatello.) Bronze bas-reliefs from the high
altar of S. Antonio, Padua. Ordered in 1448. Completed in 1450. Marcel
Reymond holds that the execution of these reliefs was committed to
assistants. In 1576 a new altar was ordered, and Donatello's bronzes
were dispersed. In 1895 a reconstruction of Donatello's altar was
made, setting the parts in place according to what is supposed to have
been the original design.

2. _St. Philip._ (Nanni di Banco.) Marble statue in niche on outside
of Or San Michele, Florence. The date is uncertain; Marcel Reymond
considers it one of Nanni's oldest works, placing it before 1408.

3. _St. John the Baptist._ (Donatello.) Bas-relief in pietra serena in
the National Museum (Bargello), Florence. No date is assigned.

4. _The Infant Jesus and St. John._ (Mino da Fiesole.) Detail of
marble altarpiece in alto relievo in cathedral of Fiesole, being a
part of the monument of Bishop Salutati. Ordered in 1462.

5. _Boys with Cymbals._ (Lucca della Robbia.) One of the marble
bas-reliefs ornamenting the organ gallery for the Florence cathedral.
Organ gallery begun in 1431, finished 1440. Removed from cathedral in
1688. Reliefs put in Uffizi Gallery 1882, and then in the Bargello.
Thence taken to the museum of the Duomo, where they are now to be
seen, set up in place on the reconstructed gallery.

6. _Tomb of Ilaria del Carretto (Detail)._ (Jacopo della Quercia.)
Marble tomb in the cathedral of Lucca. Milanese dates it 1413, but
Ridolfi's description of the Lucca cathedral places Jacopo's work
there in 1406 or 1407, and Muentz thinks this date conclusive.

7. _Madonna and Child (Detail)._ (Luca della Robbia.) Glazed terra
cotta lunette over the door of a building (now a shop) in the Via
dell' Agnolo, Florence. Considered by Marcel Reymond the most
difficult of Luca's work to date. According to Dr. Bode, executed
before 1431; according to Allan Marquand, between 1430 and 1440;
according to Marcel Reymond, towards 1450.

8. _Meeting of St. Francis and St. Dominick._ (Andrea della Robbia.)
Glazed terra cotta lunette in the Loggia of San Paolo, Florence.
Classified by Marcel Reymond under Andrea's third manner, because
distinguished by perfect knowledge of artistic principles.

9. _St. George._ (Donatello.) Marble statue originally designed for a
niche on the church of Or San Michele, Florence. Executed in 1416 at
the order of the Guild of Armorers. In 1887 it was removed to the
National Museum, Florence, to preserve it from injury by exposure to
the weather. A bronze copy was substituted for it on the church.

10. _Bambino._ (Andrea della Robbia.) One of a series of glazed terra
cotta medallions on the facade of the Foundling Hospital, Florence.
Judged by its relation to the art of Luca della Robbia, this is among
the early works of Andrea. From certain data in the history of the
hospital, Cavalucci reckons that it was executed about the year 1463.

11. _The Annunciation._ (Andrea della Robbia.) Altarpiece at La Verna.
Marcel Reymond says that from the beauty of style and the advanced
knowledge of technique exhibited here, this work must belong to
Andrea's maturity, that is, in the neighborhood of his fortieth year.
It is classified by Reymond in Andrea's "first manner."

12. _The Ascension._ (Luca della Robbia.) Enamelled terra cotta
lunette, decorating tympanum of door of sacristy in the cathedral at
Florence. The first work in this material by Luca of which we have the
date, 1446.

13. _Tomb of the Cardinal of Portugal (Detail)._ (Antonio Rossellino.)
Tomb in colored marble in the church of San Miniato, Florence. Ordered
in 1461.

14. _Equestrian statue of Gattamelata._ (Donatello.) In the Piazza del
Santo, Padua. Commission given 1444. Work begun 1446. Statue set up,
1453. Erected at the expense of Gattamelata's son, Gio. Antonio.

15. _Shrine._ (Mino da Fiesole.) A marble tabernacle, decorated in
mezzo-relievo and originally made for the nuns of the convent of the
Murate. Removed in 1815 to S. Croce, Florence. No date is assigned to
it.




IV. TABLE OF BIOGRAPHICAL DATA.


_Jacopo di Pietro d'Angelo_, of La Quercia Gossa, a castello once near
    Siena and since destroyed. Born 1371; died 1438. Variously stated
    to have been a scholar of Maestro Goro and of Luca di Giovanni.
    Milanese believes that these claims are groundless, and that
    Jacopo was a pupil of his own father, who was a goldsmith. Best
    known for his marble reliefs ornamenting the portal of S.
    Petronio, Bologna.

_Nanni di Banco._ Son of Antonio di Banco, who was at work in the
    Florence Cathedral in 1406. He is known to have been considerably
    older than Donatello, and Marcel Reymond suggests the date 1374
    as the probable year of his birth. Died 1421.

_Donatello._ The familiar name applied to Donato di Niccolo di Betti
    Bardi. Born in Florence, 1386; died in Florence, 1466. His visit
    to Rome in company with Brunelleschi has been called the most
    important of the initial steps in the revival of antiquity in art.
    The friendship and patronage of Cosmo de' Medici brought the
    artist many commissions.

_Luca di Simone di Marco della Robbia._ Born in Florence, 1399 or
    1400; died 1482.

_Andrea della Robbia_, nephew of Luca. Born 1435; died 1525.

_Antonio Rossellino._ One of the five sons of Matteo di Domenico
    Gambarelli, all being artists. Born in Settignano in 1427; died
    about 1499.

_Mino di Giovanni di Mino_, usually called _Mino da Fiesole_. Born in
    1431 in Poppi, in the Casentino, a district between the sources of
    the Arno and Tiber, north of Arezzo. Died in 1484. He was a friend
    of Desiderio da Settignano, but probably not one of his pupils.




I

MUSICAL ANGELS

BY DONATELLO


In the western part of Italy, lying a little north of the centre, is
the district known as Tuscany. Here, in the valley of the Arno, is the
city of Florence, glorious with her storied palaces and churches.
Around her are clustered Pistoja and Lucca, Pisa and Leghorn, Siena
and Arezzo, all notable towns in Italian history. Here, too, is
Carrara, with its stores of beautiful marble.

It was from this little district of Tuscany that the sculptors came
forth who have helped to make Italy famous as the birthplace of modern
art. The development of Tuscan sculpture covered a period of some
three centuries, beginning with the Pisan Niccolo, who worked between
the years 1220 and 1270, and culminating with the great Florentine
Michelangelo, who died in 1564. We shall study in this little
collection a few works of the fifteenth century.

It was the time called by historians the Renaissance, which means
literally "the new birth." The world was awakening from the long sleep
of the Middle Ages, and Italy was the first to be aroused. Certain
adventurous spirits began to ponder the possibility of a new continent
beyond the sea. There was a great revival of learning, accompanied by
a passionate love of the beautiful. Schools of art were established
throughout the length of Italy.

In other volumes of this series we have learned how the churches,
palaces, and public buildings were filled with paintings.[3] We shall
now see that sculpture also contributed much to the adornment of the
cities. Statues, busts, and bas-reliefs, in marble, bronze, and
terra-cotta, ornamented many buildings both without and within.

Our illustration shows two panels from the series of twelve bronze
reliefs on the front of a church altar. Two little boy angels are
making music with their pipes. The companion panels are also filled
with musical angels, some singing and others playing on various
instruments.

The New Testament begins and ends with the music of angels. The birth
of Jesus is heralded by a multitude of the heavenly host singing
"Glory to God in the highest." The golden city of St. John's vision is
filled with "the voice of harpers, harping with their harps," in the
new song before the throne of God. Thence has arisen the beautiful
custom of artists to represent angels as musicians.

The child angels of our picture have tiny pointed wings as a sign of
their heavenly origin. Certainly we cannot imagine such buoyant little
creatures treading the earth like mortals. One stands on tip-toe like
a bird poised for flight. The other skips through the air with joyous
motion. The head of one is encircled by a halo, the emblem of purity.
The other wears a fillet of flowers over his curls. Each carries two
little pipes, the simplest of musical instruments.

[Illustration: MUSICAL ANGELS (DONATELLO) Church of San Antonio,
Padua]

It was long ago in the childhood of the race that some shepherd,
plucking a reed from the bank of a stream, first found that the hollow
stem had a voice of its own. The pipe thereafter became a favorite
instrument among primitive people. We read in the Old Testament
Scriptures that the ancient Hebrews used it in the celebration of
their festivities. At the Greek festivals also the pipers had a place
in the procession of musicians.

Our angel pipers are blowing lustily with puffing cheeks--

                  "Such sweet
    Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
    Never gave the enraptured air."

They are genuine musicians, not children playing with the pipes as
with toys. They move to the rhythm of their piping, their lifted faces
expressing their delight. Their thin garments cling to their figures,
and the loose ends flutter about them.

Every line of the modelling is beautiful, the poise of the figures
full of rhythmic grace. The angel at the left stands in profile, with
face slightly turned away from the spectator. The right hand figure
skips directly out of his panel, swinging lithely about towards the
left, as he moves. The outlines of both figures describe long fine
curves, with which the edges of the drapery run parallel. In the
drawing of the right hand angel we may trace delicate patterns of
interlacing ovals.

Some portions of the work seem to be modelled in very high relief. The
limbs, we are told, are in low relief, supported on a metal back, an
inch or so thick, by which they are thrown out to a proper distance
from the background.

The altar to which our panels belong is in the church of S. Antonio,
Padua, and was executed by the Florentine sculptor, Donatello, in
1450. The entire scheme of decoration is very elaborate. On the front
is a row of musical angels, in which the panels here reproduced occupy
opposite ends. Above these are five reliefs of larger size; and still
higher are seven life-size statues of saints. The whole is surmounted
by a crucifix. Even the back of the altar is ornamented with reliefs,
and the work is an example of the spirit of the age, which thought
nothing too rich or beautiful for the purposes of worship.

[Footnote 3: See _Raphael_, _Michelangelo_, _Titian_, and
_Correggio_.]




II

ST. PHILIP

BY NANNI DI BANCO


St. Philip was one of the first group of disciples whom Jesus called
to his service. He was a native of Bethsaida in Galilee, but we do not
know what occupation he pursued there. There is a tradition that he
was a chariot driver, and in any case he was certainly a laboring man
like all of the twelve. Having attached himself to Jesus he began at
once to work in his cause. He persuaded Nathanael to come and see the
Master, and thereby won a new adherent.[4]

Philip was not spiritually minded, like John, nor impetuous, like
Peter, but in his own way he wanted to know the truth. Perhaps he was
a little slower than others to grasp religious teaching. It may be
that he was franker than many in confessing that he did not
understand.

He and Thomas were somewhat alike in this respect, and once, when
Jesus was talking of departing to the Heavenly Father, both
interrupted him with questions. Philip said, "Lord, show us the Father
and it sufficeth us." "Have I been so long time with you and yet hast
thou not known me?" replied Jesus. "He that hath seen me hath seen the
Father."[5]

Apparently Philip learned his lesson well, for we read in traditional
history of his faithful missionary services in later life. He was
twenty years in Scythia preaching the gospel. Then he went to
Hieropolis in Phrygia, where the people worshipped a serpent. The
apostle drove the serpent away, but the pagan priests sought his life
in revenge. He was bound to a cross and stoned to death, praying even
in his agony for his enemies.[6]

The statue of St. Philip in our illustration shows him as a somewhat
commonplace-looking man with heavy features. It accords with the usual
account of him that his face should not be particularly intellectual.
His attitude is full of dignity, and denotes a well-balanced
character. The large well-knit hands are those of an artisan. He is of
about middle age, as the artists usually represent him. A plain man of
good common sense and sterling worth--this was Philip both in fact and
in the statue.

In pictures and statues the apostles nearly always carry the symbols
of their identity. St. Philip's emblem is the cross, but it is here
dispensed with, and we have only the Latin inscription to show us who
he is.

[Illustration: ST. PHILIP (NANNI DI BANCO) _Church of Or San Michele,
Florence_]

The statue stands in a niche, and is one of a series ornamenting the
outside of the church of Or San Michele in Florence. In building this
church all the merchants and artisans of the city contributed to
support the work. Each trade was at that time represented by a guild
or association whose members united to advance their common business
interests.[7] These various guilds furnished the statues for the
niches, each supplying the figure of its own patron saint. St. Philip
was the gift of the Guild of Hosiers, and was executed by the sculptor
Nanni di Banco.

Donatello had at first been approached by the guild, but considering
his price exorbitant they gave the order to Nanni, who promised to
accept any terms they decided upon. When the statue was done, however,
the sculptor demanded a sum larger than the price of Donatello. The
latter was now called upon to act as referee, and he set a still
higher price upon the work. The Hosiers were indignant. "Why," they
asked, "had Donatello rated Nanni's work at a higher price than his
own, which would have undoubtedly been better?" "Because," replied the
great sculptor, laughing, "being less skilful than I, he has worked
harder, and therefore deserves more pay." A compromise was effected,
and the statue set in place.

That Donatello could indeed have made a better statue we shall
presently see when we study his St. George, designed for the same
church. St. Philip lacks distinction, and it has not the animation
which the greater sculptor knew how to impart to his work.
Nevertheless it has certain artistic qualities which make it worthy of
Donatello's championship.

The lines of the drapery are well studied. Apparently Nanni had
learned something in this respect from the Greek sculpture. Where
draperies are simple and hang in long unbroken lines, the effect is
impressive and dignified. When they are voluminous and broken, they
lose in dignity. Good art is always simple and has no meaningless
lines.

We are interested in examining the niche in which the statue is set.
It is Gothic in design, and with its pointed top and side pinnacles
recalls the cathedral windows in northern Europe. An architectural
frame of this sort is often called a tabernacle, being in fact a
miniature church in form. In the triangular space at the top is a
bas-relief figure in half length which seems to represent Christ. The
base is ornamented with an arabesque or scroll design, flanked at each
end by the arms of the Hosiers' Guild. The side pillars have rich
Corinthian capitals. Just inside are twisted pillars of curious
workmanship.

Our illustration also shows a portion of the wall against which the
niche is placed. We see that the church is built of stone, set in
square blocks. On each side of the niche is a metal ring through which
torches were thrust.

[Footnote 4: St. John, chapter i., verses 43-51.]

[Footnote 5: St. John, chapter xiv., verses 1-11.]

[Footnote 6: Mrs. Jameson's _Sacred and Legendary Art_, p. 235.]

[Footnote 7: The Florentine guilds of this period may be compared with
those of the seventeenth century in Holland. See the chapter on the
"Syndics of the Cloth Guild" in the volume on Rembrandt in the
Riverside Art Series.]




III

ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST

BY DONATELLO


In the hill country of Judaea lived the priest Zacharias and his wife,
Elisabeth, who were the parents of St. John the Baptist. They were
pious people, "walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the
Lord, blameless." One day, as Zacharias was ministering in his office
in the temple, an angel brought him the glad tidings that he was to
have a son. "Thou shalt call his name John," said the vision, "and
thou shalt have joy and gladness, and many shall rejoice at his
birth."

A great career was promised for the coming child. He was to be a
preacher filled with spiritual power. Like the old prophet Elias, he
was to turn the hearts of the people to God, and to prepare the way
for the Christ. As a sign that the angel's words were true, Zacharias
was stricken dumb until his son was born. Then "his tongue was loosed,
and he spake and praised God."

The neighbors marvelled at the mystery of John's birth, and they saw
that "the hand of the Lord was with him." "And the child grew and
waxed strong in spirit," until he came to manhood.[8] Then was
fulfilled the angel's prophecy concerning him. He became a great
preacher, and multitudes flocked to hear him.

John's manner of life was like that of a hermit. He dwelt in the
wilderness about the river Jordan, wearing a garment of camel's hair
bound about his loins with a leathern girdle. His food was locusts and
wild honey. He gathered his audiences in the open air and baptised his
disciples in the river.

Though stern in his teachings he became for a time very popular. Yet
he always spoke of his own work with great humility. "There cometh one
mightier than I after me," he said.[9] This was Jesus, who, on
presenting himself for baptism, was greeted by John as the "Lamb of
God." The prophet's mission was now accomplished. He was soon after
thrown into prison and beheaded, at the order of King Herod, whose
sins he had openly rebuked.

The story of the Baptist's life brings readily before the imagination
the strange figure of the man.[10] It is not so easy to fancy how he
might have looked as a boy. The bas-relief of our illustration shows
us what form the idea took in the mind of the sculptor Donatello.

[Illustration: ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST (DONATELLO) _National Museum,
Florence_]

The little fellow seems tall and slender for his years, as if he had
stretched his limbs by running much in the open air. The face is
somewhat serious, but perfectly childish. The lips are parted in a
half smile. He has a good forehead, and is an independent thinker. He
impresses us as a straightforward character, a boy to like and trust.

It would be too much to say that he shows the making of a great man.
It is enough that he is an honest, healthy boy with a mind of his own.
He is hardly pretty, but he is very interesting. The hair is his most
charming feature, waving in little tendrils over the head. He is not
plump enough for his figure to show fine curves. On the contrary, the
modelling is on rather severe lines, as if in keeping with the
character.

Certain well understood signs show who he is. The circle about his
head is the halo, the symbol of a sacred character. The skin garment
fastened at the shoulder reminds us of the strange clothing John wore
in the desert. The tall cross is the emblem of the prophet, as a
forerunner of the crucified one.

Donatello's art covered a wide range of subjects, but in none was he
more at home than in representing children. He has been called "the
poet of child-life." There are interesting points of comparison
between the example before us and the Musical Angels of the altar at
Padua. St. John the Baptist is evidently a real little boy,
transferred to the stone just as he was. The piping angels, on the
other hand, are child ideals, without counterpart

in real life. St. John's large ear, with its irregularly bent rim, and
his straight upper lip, are features such as an artist must certainly
have copied, not invented. The angel faces, on the other hand, are
moulded in the perfect curves which originate in the imagination of
the artist. Donatello was, above all things else, a close student of
human nature. Sometimes, indeed, he chose very unattractive models,
and reproduced them so faithfully that the realism is almost painful.
His artistic eye was always open to new impressions. Perhaps, one day
as he walked through the streets of Florence, he noticed among the
children playing there this little fellow of the long neck and pensive
face. "Ecco," said he, to himself, "il Giovannino."[11] The child's
face and bearing had a quaint seriousness precisely suited to the
character.

It is wonderful how the sculptor's art has made the little boy seem
actually alive in the bas-relief. The hair is executed with the skill
peculiar to Donatello, and seems to grow from the head. Such studies
from real life--_genre_ studies, as they are called--were lessons
which prepared the artist for higher works of idealism. The little St.
John may have been the original material for some of the angel
figures.

[Footnote 8: The circumstances of John's birth are related in the
first chapter of St. Luke, from which the quotations are drawn.]

[Footnote 9: St. Mark, chapter i., verse 7.]

[Footnote 10: See the pictures of St. John the Baptist in the volumes
on _Titian_ and _Correggio_ in the Riverside Art Series.]

[Footnote 11: "There is the little John."]




IV

THE INFANT JESUS AND ST. JOHN

BY MINO DA FIESOLE


Jesus and St. John the Baptist were of nearly the same age, and there
was a peculiar tie between them. Their mothers, Mary and Elizabeth,
were cousins, and before the boys were born the two women had confided
in each other their hopes for the future of their children. Angelic
messengers had predicted a remarkable destiny for both boys. Jesus was
to rule over an everlasting kingdom, and John was to be his prophet
preparing the way for him. These were secrets which the outside world
could not have understood, and Mary paid a visit to her kinswoman that
they might talk of them together.

As John's home was in the hill country and Jesus was born in the town
of Bethlehem, we do not know how soon the boys met. It might be
supposed that Mary and Elizabeth would be eager to bring them
together. While the mothers took council on the training of their
sons, the children would be at play.

The little ones were, we believe, brought up quite simply, with no
sense that they were different from other children. Jesus was a
natural leader. We remember how he surprised his mother at the age of
twelve by asserting his own judgment.[12] Among his playfellows he
must have shown much earlier that he was the one to take the first
place. John was doubtless taught by his mother to defer to his little
cousin. He was not lacking in spirit himself, but he could sometimes
be very humble. In his manhood he spoke of Jesus as one whose shoe's
latchet he was not worthy to unloose.[13]

It is pleasant to picture the two children together in our fancy, and
we do not wonder that artists have liked the subject.[14] Our
illustration shows us the theme wrought in marble. The child Jesus
sits on the steps, and the little St. John approaching kneels in
adoration. We see at once the religious meaning of the artist: the
relation between the two in after life is foreshadowed in this
imaginary incident. Each child carries the symbol of his character. A
halo behind the head of Jesus signifies his divine origin. He holds on
his knee a globe surmounted by a cross, in token that he who was
crucified shall be the ruler of the world. In the symbol of the globe
the old artists anticipated the later discoveries of science as to the
form of the earth. Some of the ancient philosophers had taught that
the earth is a sphere, and through the writings of Aristotle the
belief was spread among the scholars of the Middle Ages.[15] That the
idea made its way into art is perhaps because the sphere is the most
perfect and beautiful form, and hence the fitting symbol of God's
created work.[16]

[Illustration: THE INFANT JESUS AND ST. JOHN (MINO DA FIESOLE)
_Cathedral, Fiesole_]

St. John carries the cross, which is his usual emblem as a prophet of
Christ. It is tall and slender because it was supposed to be made of
reeds. The reference is to Jesus's words concerning John when asking
the people if they had sought the prophet merely as "a reed shaken by
the wind."

The infant Jesus is a vigorous child, straight and perfectly formed.
The little St. John is an older and taller boy, wearing a tunic. The
younger child is delighted to have a playfellow. There is an eager
smile on his face, and he puts out his right hand as if he longed to
take the curious plaything St. John carries. Both children are plump,
with well-shaped heads, but there is nothing precocious-looking about
either. They are indeed uncommonly pretty, but for the rest are like
other children, eying each other somewhat shyly in the early stages of
acquaintance. It will not be long before they are the best of friends.

The figures in our illustration form a part of a marble altar-piece by
Mino da Fiesole. The whole composition consists of three niches
approached by steps. In the central compartment kneels the mother
Mary, adoring with folded hands the child, who sits below her. We see
in our picture only the lower part of her dress behind the Christ
child. In the side niches are figures of saints, the little St. John
kneeling in front of the one on the Madonna's right.

Mino da Fiesole has been called "The Raphael of sculpture," and his
work in this altar-piece illustrates the fitness of comparing him with
the great painter. Especially do the figures of the two children here
remind us of the child ideals of Raphael. At the time when this work
was executed (1462) painters and sculptors had just begun to represent
the Christ child undraped. The earlier artists had always shown the
little figure clad in a tunic. We shall presently see how this old
custom was still followed in bas-reliefs of the Madonna and Child by
Luca della Robbia and Rossellino. The more progressive artists were
unwilling to conceal the beauty of the child's figure by any sort of
dress. By the beginning of the sixteenth century the old way had
entirely given place to the new.[17]

In our picture we see that a Latin inscription on the base of the
lowest step contains the name of Leonardo Salutati, bishop of Fiesole.
[18] It was by the order of this bishop that the altar was executed,
as was also the tomb opposite it in the cathedral of Fiesole.

[Footnote 12: St. Luke, chapter ii., verse 49.]

[Footnote 13: St. Luke, chapter iii., verse 16.]

[Footnote 14: See Chapter IX., on the "Children of the Shell," in the
volume on _Murillo_ in the Riverside Art Series.]

[Footnote 15: This is on the authority of a French writer, A.
Jourdain, quoted by William H. Tillinghast in an essay on the
"Geographical Knowledge of the Ancients," in the _Narrative and
Critical History of America_. In the same essay an anonymous poem of
the thirteenth century is quoted to show the prevalent belief in the
sphericity of the earth.]

[Footnote 16: In Didron's _Christian Iconography_, several interesting
illustrations from old miniatures, etc., show the globe in the hand of
the Creator. It is curious that this supposedly exhaustive authority
on church symbolism gives no account of the origin and history of this
emblem.]

[Footnote 17: See Madonna pictures by Raphael, Titian, Correggio, and
Michelangelo in other volumes of the Riverside Art Series.]

[Footnote 18: _Eps_, with the curious mark above, stands for
_episcopus_.]




V

BOYS WITH CYMBALS

BY LUCA DELLA ROBBIA


The bas-relief of our illustration is one of a series of marble panels
designed to ornament the singing-gallery of a church. The children
moving forward with song and cymbal remind us of the bands of singers
and musicians who took part in religious processions of ancient times.
We read of such processions among both the Greeks[19] and the Hebrews.
[20]

The custom of singing was adopted by the Christian church from its
foundation,[21] and gradually the musical part of the service was
developed into a fine art. There was a famous system of choral
chanting under Pope Gregory I.,[22] and in the eleventh century part
singing was introduced. At length the organ came into use, and by the
fifteenth century it had become an important part of the church
furnishings.

It was early in this century when the wardens of the cathedral at
Florence had an organ constructed on what the old writer Vasari called
"a very grand scale." In connection with this an organ loft, such as
the Italians call a _cantoria_, was needed to accommodate the singers.
The Florentine sculptor, Luca della Robbia, received the order for
this work, and was occupied with it some nine years (1431-1440).

The cantoria is entirely of marble, built like a balcony, with the
upper part or balustrade supported on five consoles or brackets. Four
square bas-reliefs, separated by pilasters, ornament the front of the
balustrade, and four more fill the corresponding spaces below,
separated by the consoles. The artist took as the motive of his
decorative scheme the one hundred and fiftieth psalm. This hymn of
praise furnished his imagination with a series of pictures
illustrating many kinds of music. The entire psalm is quoted in the
Latin version on the gallery, the inscriptions running in narrow bands
across the top and bottom and between the two rows of panels. These
are the verses in the familiar English version of King James, grouped
in the three sections into which they are divided:--

    "Praise God in his sanctuary:
      praise him in the firmament of his power.
    Praise him for his mighty acts:
      praise him according to his excellent greatness.

    Praise him with the sound of the trumpet:
      praise him with the psaltery and harp.
    Praise him with the timbrel

         and dance:
      praise him with stringed instruments and organs.
    Praise him upon the loud cymbals:
      praise him upon the high sounding cymbals.
    Let everything that hath breath
              praise the Lord."

[Illustration: BOYS WITH CYMBALS (LUCA DELLA ROBBIA) _The Duomo,
Florence_]

The eight illustrations of the gallery omit nothing mentioned by the
psalmist. Here are the trumpets, the harp, the psaltery, and the
timbrel. Here is the choric dance, followed by players on organs and
stringed instruments; after these come the loud cymbals or
tambourines, and finally the "high sounding cymbals" of our
illustration.

The players are a half dozen children, some dressed in tunics, and
others wearing scarf-like garments which leave their limbs free. Two
are crowned with flowers in the Greek fashion, and others have a
fillet or band bound about the hair. The leader walks with his head
thrown back, his mouth wide open, singing with all his might,
oblivious of everything but his music. He holds the cymbals high,
striking them together in the rhythm of his song. His companion is a
jolly little fellow, not at all concerned in the music, but laughing
at something which attracts his attention in the distance.

There is another rogue just behind the leader. Without losing step he
throws his weight forward on bending knee, putting his ear to the
upper cymbal. He is evidently amusing himself with the lingering
vibrations of the metal. The flower-crowned boy bringing up the rear
smiles at us cheerily, as he steps along, clashing his cymbals with
right good-will. The children in the background seem to take their
task more seriously, as if sharing the spirit of the leader.

It is clear that our artist found the models for his figures in the
streets of Florence. These round-faced children with their large
mouths are not pretty enough for imaginary types. They are perfectly
natural, and that is why we like them.

The grouping is skilfully planned to give unity to the composition
without any stiffness. There are no awkward gaps between the figures,
but the lines flow from one to another, binding them together. The
half kneeling posture of the child in the middle makes diagonal lines
to unite the leader with the boy in the rear. We notice in the drawing
the same sweep of line which we have admired in Donatello's bronze
reliefs of angels. The three figures in front are modelled in high
relief, and in beautiful curves; the children in the rear are in low
relief.

The work of Luca della Robbia was not confined to marble. Soon after
completing the organ gallery he made a bronze door for the interior of
the cathedral. He is best known for his work in enamelled terra-cotta,
of which we shall hear more in later chapters.

[Footnote 19: See Chapter III. in the volume on _Greek Sculpture_ in
the Riverside Art Series.]

[Footnote 20: Psalm lxviii., verse 25, and 1 Chronicles, chapter
xiii., verse 8.]

[Footnote 21: St. Matthew, chapter xxvi., verse 30.]

[Footnote 22: The pontificate of Gregory I. was from 590 to 604.]




VI

TOMB OF ILARIA DEL CARRETTO
(_Detail_)

BY JACOPO DELLA QUERCIA


A certain marquis of Carretto, living in Lucca at the close of the
fourteenth century, had a daughter named Ilaria. Ilaria was like Helen
of Troy, "a daughter of the gods, divinely tall and most divinely
fair."[23] Her face was delicately cut in a patrician mould, and she
carried her head with the air of a princess. The marquis must have
been proud of his beautiful daughter, and as she grew into womanhood
he looked about for a suitable match for her. There was little romance
about marriages in those days, and when a rich widower sought Ilaria's
hand, she was doubtless thought by all a very fortunate maiden.

Her husband, Paolo Guinigi, was the signor or lord of the city of
Lucca, and though somewhat despotic in temper was at least without
vices. He was besides the richest man in Italy. In his treasury, says
the historian, "diamonds and rubies, emeralds and pearls, were counted
by hundreds." The palace awaiting the bride was magnificently
furnished. There was linen from Paris and other French cities,
exquisite in quality and in stores so abundant as to delight the heart
of a housewife. The walls were hung with tapestries of many colors
woven in Arras. Priceless vessels of gold and silver adorned the
table. Nor were signs of learning lacking. There was a library, well
stocked with the works of classical authors, written in manuscript in
the manner of the times.

So far as surroundings make for happiness Ilaria may well have been a
happy woman. We like to fancy her queenly figure moving through the
stately apartments of the palace or on the green terraces of the
garden. But she did not long enjoy the splendors of her surroundings,
for two years after her marriage she died. Her husband then ordered of
the sculptor Jacopo della Quercia a marble tomb to be placed in the
cathedral. On the sarcophagus lay the portrait figure of the lady
herself; the sides were richly carved with cherubs holding festoons of
flowers, and above was a canopy.

Ilaria lies with hands crossed just where they would naturally fall in
her sleep.[24] Her feet rest against a little dog, which, according to
the old writer, Vasari, was an emblem of conjugal fidelity. It is
surely no harm to fancy that the little creature was the lady's pet.
The gown is girdled high, and falling in long, straight folds, is
wrapped about the feet. Over this is worn a mantle made with large,
loose sleeves, and a high flaring collar, which comes well up under
the chin.[25]

[Illustration: DETAIL OF TOMB OF ILARIA DEL CARRETTO (JACOPO DELLA
QUERCIA) _Cathedral, Lucca_]

Our illustration shows only the head and shoulders of the figure. The
head rests on a pillow in a hollow shaped to receive it, and the
shoulders are supported by a second and larger cushion underneath.
Ilaria's waving hair is parted over the high brow, and brought down on
each side the face, completely concealing the ears. A few short
tendrils have escaped, and curl daintily over the forehead. She wears
a large flower-wound wreath or crown, set aslant over the shapely
head. It may be that this is a sort of head-dress worn in her time. No
one can look at the face without thinking of a flower, and most of all
of the lily. The mouth is moulded in exquisite curves; Ilaria was,
indeed, a bewitching woman.

Had the fair marchioness lived to middle age her fortunes would have
been sadly altered. In 1430 there was a political upheaval in Lucca,
and Guinigi was driven from the city.[26] His palace was pillaged, and
the mob even laid desecrating hands upon Ilaria's tomb. An attempt to
remove it seems to have been frustrated, and it was dropped on the
floor of the transept, where it now stands. It lost, however, the
canopy and one ornamented side of the base.

As a work of art, Ilaria's tomb has been greatly admired by critics.
Even in our little picture we can, with no great training, see how
well the sculptor has rendered the texture of the hair and the
softness of the plump chin. Even the tassels on the cushion are carved
with clever imitative skill. We must be careful to look at the face
just as the sculptor intended it to be seen, not upright, but lying
horizontally. It is only thus that we get the significance of the
beautiful continuous line across forehead and nose. The line of the
head-dress exactly follows that of the hair, and is drawn at the same
angle as the edge of the collar, which it meets. In the triangular
space thus formed is fitted the lovely profile of the face. Ruskin has
written with much enthusiasm of the merits of Ilaria's tomb. From it,
he declared, one may receive "unerring canon of what is evermore
lovely and right in the dealing of the art of man with his fate and
his passions." Still more helpful is his interpretation of the feeling
which the sculptor has conveyed. After first explaining that "every
work of the great Christian schools expresses primarily conquest over
death," he shows that this particular tomb has "all the peace of the
Christian eternity." We may see, he says, "that the damsel is not dead
but sleepeth; yet as visibly a sleep that shall know no ending until
the last day break and the last shadows flee away."[27]

[Footnote 23: Tennyson's "A Dream of Fair Women."]

[Footnote 24: Not "folded below her bosom," nor "laid on her breast,"
as in two familiar descriptions.]

[Footnote 25: That this mantle was a prevailing style of the period
among the aristocracy, we judge from an old Spanish painting, in which
King Ferdinand of Aragon and his queen both wear it. The picture is
reproduced in Carderara's _Iconografia Espanola_, and copied in
Planche's _Cyclopedia of Costumes_.]

[Footnote 26: The exact date is here given because of the vagueness of
some writers who refer to the event as "not many years" and "within
twenty years" after Ilaria's death in 1405.]

[Footnote 27: Quoted by Sydney Colvin in an article on Jacopo della
Quercia, in the _Portfolio_, 1883. See also _Modern Painters_, Part
III.]




VII

MADONNA AND CHILD
(_Detail of lunette_)

BY LUCA DELLA ROBBIA


In reading the gospel narrative of the life of Jesus we are glad to
learn something of his mother Mary. Her life had some peculiar
hardships to test the strength of her character. It was a strange lot
for a mother to have to tend her babe in the manger of an inn, but
such was Mary's experience. At the time of Jesus's birth she and
Joseph were in Bethlehem, whither they had come to pay their taxes.
There were many other people there on the same errand, and the inn was
so crowded that the young mother had to find quarters in the stable.

While the child was still very young a terrible danger threatened his
life. An order went forth from King Herod to slay all the young
children of Bethlehem. Still the mother's courage did not fail. She
arose by night, and, taking her babe, fled with her husband into
Egypt. Returning at length to their home in Nazareth, she watched her
boy's growth, and kept all his sayings in her heart.

When Jesus entered upon his ministry Mary was the first to show
perfect confidence in her son.[28] She seems to have followed him
whenever she could.[29] Her courage sustained her even in the hour of
his agony, and we read how she stood with his disciples at the foot of
the cross.[30]

It is this woman of quiet fortitude whom we see in Luca della Robbia's
bas-relief of the Madonna and Child. We are impressed at once with a
sense of her strength and poise of character. It is precisely such as
fits the story of her life. Steadying her little boy with both hands,
she turns her face in the direction in which he is looking. The Child
seems to stand on a sort of balustrade in front of his mother. With
feet wide apart he holds himself erect in a firm posture. His right
hand is raised in a gesture of benediction. With his left he grasps
firmly a long scroll bearing the Latin inscription, "Ego sum Lux
Mundi" (I am the Light of the World).

Both mother and child seem to belong to the happy, every-day working
world. Mary has the straight figure, full throat, and square shoulders
of a Tuscan peasant girl. Her only aristocratic feature is the shapely
hand. She holds her chin level, like a country maiden used to carrying
burdens on the head. It may be that the artist had seen her like in
some market-place in Florence. The boy too has the square shoulders
and sturdy frame of a child of the people.

[Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILD (LUCA DELLA ROBBIA) _Shop in the Via
dell' Agnolo, Florence_]

Some artists have tried to give a supernatural and ethereal beauty to
the mother and child. Others have represented them enthroned in
splendor like a queen and prince receiving their court. Luca della
Robbia went to no such extremes. There is nothing morbid or
sentimental in his art: nor does he care for any worldly pomp and
ceremonial. His religious ideals were very simple, suited to the needs
of common life. The Christ child here is a dear little human baby, and
the Madonna is the poet's ideal of "a creature not too bright or good
for human nature's daily food."[31]

The bas-relief is one of the famous works in enamelled terra-cotta,
known as "Della Robbia ware." The idea of overlaying clay with a
glazing was not original with Luca della Robbia, but he seems to have
been the first to apply it to sculpture. In his own day he was looked
upon as a great inventor, and his works were very popular. The
material was inexpensive, and lent itself readily to all sorts of
decorative purposes. Its beauty, moreover, was of a lasting quality.
While paintings fade, the Della Robbia ware, "gem like, shall as very
gems endure."[32] The only injury to which it is liable is the
breaking off of some projecting portions. In our picture we see that a
fragment is broken out of the child's wrist. Fortunately, however,
there are no defects in the important parts of the work.

The figures are in the centre of a lunette or semi-circular
composition, with an adoring angel on each side holding a jar of
lilies. The piece is set up over a doorway on the outside of a
building in a narrow street in Florence. The location explains the
attitude of the mother and child. If they looked directly out of the
picture as in an altar-piece, there would be but one place, on the
opposite side of the street, where the passer-by could meet their
eyes. As it is, they turn their faces toward the vista of the street
as if to welcome the approaching wayfarer. While still a long way off
one feels the cheerful influence of their gaze. Even when coming from
the opposite direction it is pleasant, after passing the door, to know
that the friendly eyes follow us on our way.

The workmanship of Luca is seen in the artistic qualities of the
sculpture. There was a severe simplicity in his drawing of the outline
and draperies which contrasted with the more elaborate work of his
followers. Luca was also a close student of nature, and drew his
materials from the world about him.

[Footnote 28: At the Marriage of Cana, St. John, chapter ii., verses
3-5.]

[Footnote 29: St. John ii., verse 12, and St. Matthew, chapter xii.,
verse 46.]

[Footnote 30: St. John, chapter xix., verse 25.]

[Footnote 31: Wordsworth's "She was a Phantom of Delight."]

[Footnote 32: From some verses by Edith M. Thomas, "A Della Robbia
Garland," printed in _The Critic_, December, 1901.]




VIII

THE MEETING OF ST. FRANCIS AND ST. DOMINICK

BY ANDREA DELLA ROBBIA


In the beginning of the thirteenth century two men living in different
countries of Europe were struck simultaneously with the same idea.
They were St. Dominick, the Spaniard, and St. Francis, the Italian,
and each determined to found a new religious order.[33] Hitherto the
members of religious orders had shut themselves up in the solitude of
monasteries and convents. In the new plan they were to mingle freely
with the people, calling themselves brothers, or friars.

The first object of the Dominicans was to be preachers, and they were
called Frati Predicatori. The Franciscans took the humbler name of the
Frati Minori, or lesser brothers. The members of both orders were
bound by a vow of poverty to possess nothing of their own. Like the
disciples whom Jesus sent out, they were to carry neither purse nor
scrip, but beg their food and raiment on their way. It is for this
that they are called mendicant orders.

The affairs of their orders brought both St. Dominick and St. Francis
to Rome at the same time. The two men met and embraced, each seeing in
the other a kindred spirit. It was proposed to unite the two bodies in
one, and St. Dominick favored this plan. He had won but a few
followers, and St. Francis already had many. The Brother Minor however
was sure that such union would be impossible. The two men were indeed
of widely contrasting characters. St. Dominick was a scholar, a man of
fiery and energetic temperament. St. Francis was unlettered, but his
mind was poetic and imaginative, his nature gentle and humble. St.
Dominick was known as the "Hammer of the Heretics," St. Francis as the
"Father of the Poor."

A bas-relief by Andrea della Robbia represents the meeting of St.
Dominick with St. Francis.[34] It is apparently the artist's
intention to emphasize the kinship rather than the contrast between
the two men. Both have the thin faces and sharp features of the
ascetic. Their shaven faces and tonsured heads heighten the
resemblance between them. Both have the same type of hand, with the
long fingers which are characteristic of a sensitive nature.[35] A
disc over the head of each symbolizes his saintliness.

[Illustration: MEETING OF ST. FRANCIS AND ST. DOMINICK (ANDREA DELLA
ROBBIA) _Loggia of San Paolo, Florence_]

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
sanctity. 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 Classics) 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 fashion 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
assured 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.

[Illustration: ST. GEORGE (DONATELLO) _National Museum, Florence_]

The hands are beautiful, and full of character, large and flexible.
The left one rests on a shield which bears the sign of the cross. The
armor, we see, has a more than literal significance. This is the
"shield 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
principalities, 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
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.

[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_]

Thus were the Venetian arms saved, and at the same time the Milanese
were baffled in a design to come between Venice and her army.
Gattamelata's retreat was a victory of peace, less showy, perhaps,
than a victory of war, but requiring the finest qualities of
generalship. In recognition of his services the Venetian Signory
conferred the title of nobility upon him, with a palace and a pension.

In the following year, the Venetian cause was strengthened by alliance
with Florence, and Gattamelata yielded the first place in command to
Sforza, the general of the Florentine forces. In 1440 the united
armies succeeded in relieving Brescia, but in the same year a calamity
befell Gattamelata. Exposure to cold brought on paralysis, and after a
lingering illness of two years he died. The honor of a great funeral
was accorded him at the public expense, and he was buried in the
church of S. Antonio at Padua. The next year the sculptor, Donatello,
was commissioned to make an equestrian statue of the great condottiere
to be set up in the square in front of the church.[56]

With quiet dignity Gattamelata rides forward on his horse as if
reviewing his army. There is nothing pompous in his attitude or
manner. He seems a plain man intent upon his task, with no thought of
display. He has the strong face of one born for leadership, and we can
believe the stories of his troops' devotion to him. With his right
hand he lifts his wand in a gesture of command, letting it rest across
the horse's neck.

He is dressed in the picturesque war costume of the period, and wears
metal plates upon his arms. A long sword swings at his side, and spurs
are attached to his heels. Yet apparently he is not actually equipped
for the battle, for his head is uncovered. He has a high receding
forehead and thick curls. The peculiar shape of the head, looking
almost conical from some points of view, indicates a forcible
character. It is evident that this is a man of action rather than of
words. His appearance fits admirably the facts of his life as one
whose energy and courage could overcome any obstacle. Gattamelata was
not a patriot, as we understand patriotism, being but a mercenary
captain. But he showed a rare loyalty to the cause he espoused. It is
not as a fighting man that we admire him to-day, but as a man of
remarkable resources.

Obedient to the master's hand, the horse ambles at a moderate pace.
Except the bridle, he has no trappings, and we thus see to the best
advantage the fine proportions of his figure. Before undertaking this
work Donatello had had no experience in modelling the horse, and his
success is the more remarkable. It is, however, the man rather than
the horse which shows the full power of the sculptor's art. The
subject was one exactly suited to his taste, which preferred vigorous
masculine qualities to all others.

In ancient sculpture equestrian subjects were very important. On the
Parthenon at Athens a frieze of bas-relief contained rows of horsemen
riding in the Panathenaic procession.[57] In a public square in Rome
was a famous statue of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius on horseback.
Donatello was the first sculptor of the Christian era to revive this
noble form of art. The statue of Gattamelata is therefore the parent
of the long line of modern equestrian statues.

[Footnote 55: The literal meaning of this sobriquet is _Honeyed cat_.]

[Footnote 56: W. C. Hazlitt's _Venetian Republic_ furnishes the
quotations and information for this account of Gattamelata. Other
sources of material on the subject are Fabretti, _Biog. dei Capitani
dell' Umbria_, Hoefer's _Biog. universelle_, and Michaud's _Biog.
generale_. Symonds gives a general account of the condottieri in the
_Age of Despots_.]

[Footnote 57: See Chapter III. of the volume on _Greek Sculpture_, in
the Riverside Art Series.]




XV

SHRINE

BY MINO DA FIESOLE


We have seen from the examples in our collection that the art of
sculpture may be applied in many forms to the decoration of churches,
without and within. Statues like those in the niches on the church of
Or San Michele, sculptured altars like that by Donatello in the church
at Padua, organ galleries like that by Luca della Robbia in the
Florence cathedral, monumental tombs like those of Ilaria del Carretto
and the Cardinal of Portugal, medallions and lunettes on walls and
ceilings, are among the treasures enriching the churches of Italy.

Sculpture may also be used to ornament almost every article of church
furnishing: pulpits, fonts, and basins for holy water, wardrobes and
cabinets, chests and chairs, as well as a multitude of those smaller
objects wrought in metal which belong to the goldsmith's art. Upon all
such things as these the Italian artists of the fifteenth century
spent much careful and loving labor.

[Illustration: SHRINE (MINO DA FIESOLE) _Church of Santa Croce,
Florence_]

Our illustration shows a kind of church furniture common in this
period. It is a sculptured cabinet to contain articles used in the
altar services, such as the sacramental wafers or the holy oil. A
receptacle for objects so sacred is called a shrine. The architectural
framework is in the form styled a tabernacle, such as we have seen in
the niches on the outside of Or San Michele.[58]

The artist was Mino da Fiesole, whose decorative works were very
popular, both for the delicacy of their finish and the quality of
sentiment they expressed. His idea here was to make the design suggest
a sacred story, the story of Christ's resurrection. The opening into
the cabinet is the entrance of the tomb, and without, the angels await
the coming of the risen Lord.

Our thoughts turn to the Sunday morning in the garden of Joseph of
Arimathea, when the faithful women came to the rock-hewn tomb. The
stone had been rolled away, and angels greeted them with the glad
tidings, "He is risen."[59] The angels of our picture press forward
eagerly to peer into the shadowy depths of the interior. There are two
who are close to the door, while two more, with long torches, stand on
the step below. Above the door hovers a dove, the emblem of the Holy
Spirit.

Various features of the tabernacle illustrate characteristic qualities
of the Italian art of this period. The arched top is to be noticed as
much more common in Italy than the Gothic or pointed roof. The winged
cherub heads were a favorite decorative design. We have seen one
example of their use in the frame of the medallion on the Portuguese
cardinal's tomb. The decorated side pillars with Ionic capitals we
have seen in the altarpiece of the Annunciation by Andrea della
Robbia.

The shrine of our illustration was originally made for the nuns of the
convent of the Murate. It is mentioned by Vasari as a work which the
artist "conducted to perfection with all the diligence of which he was
capable." That its first purpose was to hold the sacramental wafers we
may be sure from the Latin inscription, "This is the living bread
which came down from heaven." The words are those used by our Lord
himself in one of the discourses recorded by St. John.[60]

In 1815 the shrine was removed to its present place in the church of
S. Croce, Florence, where it is in the chapel of the Medici, also
called the chapel of the Novitiate.

[Footnote 58: Chapter II.]

[Footnote 59: St. Mark, chapter xvi., verses 4-6.]

[Footnote 60: St. John, chapter vi., verse 51.]




XVI

IL MARZOCCO (THE HERALDIC LION OF FLORENCE)

BY DONATELLO


In the history of the several cities of Italy every town has chosen
some design to be inscribed upon a shield as a coat of arms. Florence
has the lily, as a reminder of the far-away days when the valley of
the Arno was filled with the red blossoms of the amaryllis. It was for
this that the name _Firenze_ was given to the city, the "City of
Flowers." The lily is drawn in three petals somewhat like those of the
fleur-de-lis of France; but the Florentine flower is broader than its
French counterpart, and has besides two slender flower-stalks
separating the larger petals. When represented in color it is always
red.

The tutelary genius of Florence is the lion. He stands for the noble
and heroic qualities in the Florentine citizen. Courage and patriotism
have many a time been magnificently illustrated in the history of the
city's struggles against tyranny. Like the king of beasts, the loyal
Florentine prefers death to the loss of liberty.

The choice of the lion as a civic emblem explains the fact that a
preserve of lions was once kept in Florence at the public expense.
This was given up centuries ago, but the Via de' Leoni, or street of
the lions, remains to remind us of the old custom. There was still
another way in which Florence kept the emblem continually before the
minds of her people. This was in the stone lion called the _Marzocco_,
set up in the piazza, or square, of the Signoria.

For many years the civic life of Florence centred in the Piazza della
Signoria, where stands the old gray stone palace called the Palazzo
Vecchio. Of some of the important events which took place here in the
fifteenth century we may read in George Eliot's "Romola." It was here
the Florentines gathered on all occasions of public interest, whether
connected with the political or the religious affairs of their city.

In front of the Palazzo Vecchio is a stone platform called the
_ringhiera_, and it was on this that the Marzocco was set up as a
stimulus to patriotism. The lion sits on his haunches in an attitude
of grave dignity. In this position he is much more alert than a
crouching lion, and less aggressive than the rampant lion. His duty is
to guard the honor of the city, and his pose is much like that of the
watchdog. With his right paw he supports a shield on which the
Florentine lily is engraved. We are reminded of our own national eagle
holding the shield of the stars and stripes.

In such a figure we do not look for a close resemblance to nature. The
subjects of heraldic art are treated in a decorative way with a
certain stiffness of form. The device of the lily is not an actual
picture of the flower, but a kind of floral diagram, or what we call a
conventionalized form. So, too, the lion is of a formal or emblematic
type. Yet there is a certain expressiveness in the face of the old
fellow which makes us like him. Like the winged lion of St. Mark's in
Venice, he has made many friends.

Il Marzocco is carved out of soft gray stone which the Italians call
_pietra serena_. It is believed to have been made by Donatello, and it
stands on a beautiful carved pedestal. Like the same sculptor's statue
of St. George it was deemed too precious to leave exposed in the open
air, and was therefore removed to a museum. A bronze copy now stands
in its place on the platform of the old palace.


PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES AND FOREIGN WORDS

The Diacritical Marks given are those found in the latest
edition of Webster's International Dictionary.


EXPLANATION OF DIACRITICAL MARKS.


A Dash ([=]) above the vowel denotes the long sound, as in f[=a]te,
     [=e]ve, t[=i]me, n[=o]te, [=u]se.
A Dash and a Dot ([.=]) above the vowel denote the same sound, less
     prolonged.
A Curve ([)]) above the vowel denotes the short sound, as in [)a]dd,
     [)e]nd, [)i]ll, [)o]dd, [)u]p.
A Dot ([.]) above the vowel a denotes the obscure sound of a in
     p[.a]st, [.a]b[=a]te, Am[)e]ric[.a].
A Double Dot ([:])above the vowel a denotes the broad sound of a in
     faether, aelms.
A Double Dot ([:]) below the vowel a denotes the sound of a in
      b[a:]ll.
A Wave ([~]) above the vowel e denotes the sound of e in h[~e]r.
A Circumflex Accent ([^]) above the vowel o denotes the sound of o in
     born.
A dot (.) below the vowel u denotes the sound of u in the French
     language.
=N= indicates that the preceding vowel has the French nasal tone.
=G= and =K= denote the guttural sound of ch in the German language.
_th_ denotes the sound of th in the, this.
c sounds like s.
[-c] sounds like k.
_[s+]_ sounds like _z_.
_[=g]_ is hard as in [=g]et.
_[.g]_ is soft as in [.g]em.



Alger ([)a]l'j[~e]r).
Ambrosi, Marietta (mae-r[=e]-[)e]t'tae aem-br[=o]'z[=e]).
Andrea (aen-dr[=a]'ae).
Angelico, Fra (frae aen-j[)e]l'[=e]-k[=o]).
Annunziata (aen-n[=oo]n-ts[=e]-ae'tae).
Antonio (aen-t[=o]'n[=e]-[=o]).
Apollo ([.a]-p[)o]l'l[=o]).
Arezzo (ae-r[)e]t's[=o]).
Arimathea ([)a]r-[)i]-m[.a]-th[=e]'[.a]).
Aristotle ([)a]r'[)i]s-t[)o]tl).
Arras (aer-raes').

Baldovinetti (bael-d[=o]-v[=e]-n[)e]t't[=e]).
Bambino (baem-b[=e]'n[=o]).
Bartolommeo (baer-t[=o]-l[)o]m-m[=a]'[=o]).
B[)e]th'[.a]ny.
B[)e]th'l[=e]h[)e]m.
Bethsaida (b[)e]th-s[=a]'[)i]-d[.a]).
Bisticci, Vespasiano (v[)e]s-pae-z[=e]-ae'n[=o] b[=e]s-t[=e]t' ch[=e]).
Bologna (b[=o]-l[=o]n'y[.a]).
Borghini, Vicenzo (v[=e]-ch[)e]nd's[=o] bor-g[=e]'n[=e]).
Botticelli (b[)o]t-t[=e]-ch[)e]l'l[=e]).
Brescia (br[=a]'sh[=e]-ae).
Brunelleschi (br[=oo]-n[)e]l-l[)e]s'k[=e]).
Buonarroti (b[=oo]-[=o]-naer-r[=o]'t[=e]).

Cammina (kaem'm[=e]-nae).
_cantoria_ (kaen-t[=o]-r[=e]'ae).
Cappadocia (k[)a]p-[.a]-d[=o]'sh[)i]-ae).
Carderara (kaer-d[=a]-rae'rae).
Carrara (kaer-rae'rae).
Carretto (kaer-r[)e]t't[=o]).
Cavalucci (kae-vae-l[=oo]t'ch[=e]).
Cleodolinda (kl[=e]-[)o]d-[=o]-l[)i]n'd[.a]).
Colvin, Sidney (s[)i]d'n[)i] k[)o]l'v[)i]n).
Correggio (kor-r[)e]d'j[=o]).
_Cortile_ (k[=o]r-t[=e]'l[.=a]).
Croce (kr[=o]'ch[=a]).

Della Robbia (d[)e]l'lae r[)o]b'b[=e]-ae).
Didron (d[=e]-droN').
Diocletian (d[=i]-[=o]-kl[=e]'sh[)i]-[.a]n).
D[=o]m[)i]n'[)i]c[.a]n.
D[)o]m'[)i]n[)i]ck.
D[=o]naet[)e]l'l[=o].
D[=o]nae't[=o].

Ecce ancilla Domini fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum ([)e]k'k[)e]
     aenk[=e]l'lae d[=o]'m[=e]-n[=e] f[=e]'aet m[.=e]'h[.=e]
     s[=a]k[=oo]n'd[=oo]m w[=a]r'b[=oo]m t[=oo]'[=oo]m).
Ecco il Giovannino ([)e]k'k[=o] [=e]l j[=o]-vaen-n[=e]'n[=o]).
Ego sum Lux Mundi ([)e]g'[=o] s[)oo]m l[=oo]x m[=oo]n'd[=e]).
Elias ([=e]-l[=i]'[.a]s).
Elisabeth ([=e]-l[)i]z'[.a]-b[)e]th).
Eloi ([=a]-lwae').
_episcopus_ ([=a]-p[=e]'sk[=o]-p[)oo]s).
Erasmo da Narni ([=a]-raes'm[=o] dae naer'n[=e]).

Fabretti (fae-br[)e]t't[=e]).
Firenze (f[=e]-r[)e]nd's[.=a]).
Florentine (flor'[)e]n-t[=e]n).
Franciscan (fr[)a]n-s[)i]s'k[.a]n).
Frati Minori (frae't[=e] m[=e]-n[=o]'r[=e]).
Frati Predicatori (frae't[=e] pr[=a]-d[=e]-kae-t[=o]'r[=e]).

Galilee (g[)a]l'[)i]-l[=e]).
Garda (gaer'dae).
Gattamelata (gaet-tae-m[=a]-lae'tae).
_genre_ (zhaeNr).
Gonzaga (g[)o]nd-sae'gae).
Gr[)e]g'[=o]r[)y].
Guinigi, Paolo (pae'[=o]-l[=o] gw[=e]-n[=e]'g[=e]).

H[)a]z'l[)i]tt.
H[~e]r'm[=e][s+].
H[)e]r'[)o]d.
Hewlett, Maurice (m[a:]'r[)i]s h[=u]'l[)e]t).
Hieropolis (h[=i]-[=e]-r[)o]p'[=o]-l[)i]s).
Hoefer (h[~e]'f[~e]r).
Iconografia Espanola ([=e]-k[=o]-n[=o]-grae-f[=e]'ae
     [)e]s-paen-y[=o]'lae).
Iconography ([=i]-k[=o]-n[)o]g'r[.a]-f[)i]).
Ilaria ([=e]-lae'r[=e]-ae).

Jacopo della Quercia (yae'k[=o]-p[=o] d[)e]l'lae kw[)e]r'chae).
Jor'd[.a]n.
Jourdain (zh[=oo]r-d[)a]N').
Judaea (j[=u]-d[=e]'[.a]).

L[)e]g'horn.
L[)i]b'[)y][.a].
Lisbon (l[)i]z'b[)u]n).
Loggia (l[)o]d'jae).
L[)o]m'b[.a]rd[)y].
Luca della Robbia (l[)oo]'kae d[)e]l'lae r[)o]b'b[=e]-ae).
Lucca (l[=oo]k'kae).

Magnificat (m[)a]g-n[)i]f'[)i]-k[)a]t).
_Mandorla_ (maen'dor-lae).
Manetti, Antonio (aen-t[=o]'n[=e]-[=o] mae-n[)e]t't[=e]).
Marcel-Reymond (maer-s[)e]l' r[=a]-moN').
Marzocco, Il ([=e]l maerd-s[)o]k'k[=o]).
Medici (m[=a]'d[=e]-ch[=e]).
Michaud (m[=e]-sh[=o]').
Michelangelo (m[=e]-k[)e]l-aen'j[.=a]-l[=o]).
Milan (m[)i]l'[.a]n or m[)i]-l[)a]n').
Mino da Fiesole (m[=e]'n[=o] dae f[=e]-[=a]'s[=o]-l[.=a]).
Molinier (m[=o]-l[=e]-n[=e]-[=a]').
Murate (m[=oo]-rae't[.=a]).
Murillo (m[=oo]-r[=e]l'y[=o]).

Nanni di Banco (naen'n[=e] d[=e] baen'k[=o]).
N[=a]th[)a]n'[.=a][)e]l.
N[)a]z'[.a]r[)e]th.
Niccolo (n[=e]-k[=o]-l[=o]').

Or San Michele (or saen m[=e]-k[)a]'l[.=a]).

P[)a]d'[=u][.a].
Palazzo Vecchio (pae-laet's[=o] v[)e]k'k[=e]-[=o]).
P[=a]'t[~e]r.
Petronio (p[=a]-tr[=o]'n[=e]-[=o]).
Phrygia (fr[)i]j'[)i][.a]).

Piazza (p[=e]-aet'sae).
Piccinino, Niccolo (n[=e]-k[=o]-l[=o]' p[=e]t-ch[=e]-n[=e]'n[=o]).
_pietra serena_ (p[=e]-[=a]'trae s[=a]-r[=a]'nae).
Pisa (p[=e]'zae).
Pistoja (p[=e]s-t[=o]'yae).
Planche (plaeN-sh[=a]').
Pollaiuolo (p[=o]l-lae-y[=oo]-[=o]'l[=o]).
Portogallo, Jacopo di (yae'k[=o]-p[=o] d[=e] p[=o]r-t[=o]-gael'l[=o]).
P[=o]rt'[=u]g[.a]l.
Pr[)a]x'[)e]d.
Pre-Raphaelite (pr[=e]-rae'f[=a]-[)e]l-[=i]t).

Raphael (rae'f[=a]-[)e]l).
Rea (r[=a]).
Rembrandt (r[)e]m'br[)a]nt).
Renaissance (r[~e]-n[=a]s-saeNs').
_ringhiera_ (r[=e]n-g[=e]-[=a]'rae).
Romola (r[)o]m'[=o]-l[.a]).
Rossellino (r[)o]s-s[)e]l-l[=e]'n[=o]).
Rossetti (r[)o]s-s[)e]t't[=e]).

Sabatier (sae-bae-t[=e]-[=a]').
Salutati, Leonardo (l[=a]-[=o]-naer'd[=o] sae-l[=oo]-tae't[=e]).
San Miniato (saen m[=e]-n[=e]-ae't[=o]).
Scythia (s[)i]th'[)i]-[.a]).
Sforza (sf[=o]rd'sae).
Siena (s[=e]-[=a]'nae).
Signor (s[=e]n'y[=o]r).
Signory (s[=e]n'y[=o]-r[)i]).
S[=i]l[=e]'n[=e].
Spedale degli Innocenti (sp[)a]-dae'l[=a] d[=a]'ly[=e]
     [=e]n-n[=o]-ch[=a]n't[=e]).
St[)i]g'm[.a]tae.
Symonds (s[)i]m'[)u]ndz).
Syndics (s[)i]n'd[)i]x).

T[)i]l'l[)i]ng-h[)a]st.
Titian (t[)i]sh'[.a]n).
T[)u]s'c[.a]n[)y].

Vasari (vae-sae'r[=e]).
Via de' Leoni (v[=e]'ae d[=a] l[=a]-[=o]'n[=e]).

Zacharias (z[)a]k-[.a]-r[=i]'[.a]s).
Zuccone (ds[=oo]k-k[=o]'n).



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