by Grant Allen
On the altar wall, facing you as you enter, is the History of the Passion, in consecutive sections, after the early fashion, probably by an artist of the school of Siena. On the left is the Way to Calvary; above it, the Crucifixion, every detail of which should be closely studied. Notice in particular St. Longinus, the centurion who pierced the side of Christ, and who was afterward converted, distinguished by his halo. On the right is Christ descending to Hades, and liberating the souls, with the crushed and baffled demons. First among the dead are Adam, Abel with his lamb, and the various Patriarchs. Every detail in these three works will give a key to other compositions.
The compartment of the ceiling above this fresco represents the Resurrection, with Christ in a mandorla; the Three Women at the tomb; and Christ and the Magdalen in the Garden. Observe once more every detail of this beautiful composition: it is probably the work of Antonio Veneziano. (But do not trouble much at this stage about these artists; confine your attention to the details of the action.)
SIMONE MARTINI. — CHURCH MILITANT (DETAIL).
The right wall contains a very famous * *fresco, commonly attributed to Taddeo Gaddi, but much more probably a work of Simone Martini or some other artist of the early school of Siena (Cavalcaselle attributes it to Andrea di Firenze). It represents the Way to Paradise, especially as shown by the Dominican Fathers. Study this noble allegorical work in full detail. Below, on the left, is the Church Militant, represented by the original design of the cathedral at Florence, as sketched by Arnolfo, with Giotto’s façade, and the Campanile beside it. Below this, as in the Dantesque ideal, — that splendid embodiment of mediæval Christian theory, — sit enthroned the spiritual and temporal authorities, the Pope, with his pastoral staff, and the Emperor, with his sword and ball; at whose feet lie the Faithful, represented as a flock of sheep, and guarded by black and white dogs, the domini canes, or Dominicans. To the left of the Pope are the various Church dignitaries, — cardinal, archbishop, bishop, priest, deacon, and monks and nuns of the various orders, each in the garb of their profession or monastic body. Foremost among them observe the black and white robes of the Dominicans, closely allied with their Franciscan brethren. To the right of the Emperor, again, stand the various temporal authorities, — kings, princes, marquises, dukes, lawyers, burghers, gentlefolk, pilgrims, artisans, beggars, and women. (Most of these are said to be contemporary portraits — the Pope, Benedict XI.; the Emperor, Henry VII.; the King, Philippe le Bel of France; the Bishop of Florence of the period, and so forth; while others are considered on merely traditional authority to be Cimabue, Arnolfo, Giotto, Petrarch, Laura, etc. I advise you, however, to pay little attention at first to such real or supposed portraits, the identification of which merely distracts you from the underlying import and beauty of the picture. In any case, the poets and painters at least seem to be wrongly named. Thus, the cavalier in the curious white hood, usually pointed out by the guides as Cimabue, is much more probably Walter de Brienne, Duke of Athens, who also appears on a white horse in the Crucifixion.) The whole assemblage thus represents the mediæval world, temporal and spiritual. Beyond these, to the right, is the Way to Paradise, Dominican Fathers pointing the road, and arguing and expostulating with heretics, whom St. Thomas Aquinas, on the extreme right, is confuting, so that some of them tear up their heretical books, while others stop their ears and refuse to listen. Oriental costumes (representing Eastern sectaries) may be detected among them. In the foreground, the Dominicans, as black and white dogs, are worrying the heretical teachers under the guise of wolves, thus symbolising the terrible functions of the Inquisition. In the second tier, winding around above to the right, are seen the pleasures and vanities of this wicked world, with dancing figures; while a Dominican Father is showing souls the way to heaven, and another is giving absolution to sinners. These figures thus represent Sin, Confession, Absolution, and Penitence. Farther to the left, again, the Souls of the Righteous, a joyous company, are being welcomed and crowned by delicious little angels at the Gate of Heaven, where St. Peter with the keys stands to open the door for them. Within is a vista of the Heavenly City, with adoring saints, among whom St. Lawrence and St. Paul are specially conspicuous. Over the dome of the church, too, is seen the half-figure of the great Dominican nun, St. Catherine of Siena. Thus this part of the picture symbolically represents the Church Triumphant, as that below represents the Church Militant. The whole composition is crowned by Christ in Glory, with adoring angels.
I have given here only a brief outline of this noble glorification of the Dominican Order; but attentive observers will discover for themselves many other interesting and curious features which I have been compelled by considerations of space to pass by in silence.
The compartment of the ceiling above this fresco represents the Ship of the Church, under the guise of the Apostles on the Sea of Galilee, with Christ and Peter walking on the water. It is partly copied from Giotto’s famous mosaic, now built into the newer St. Peter’s at Rome. The quaint fisherman to the left is common to both of them.
The entrance wall has a Last Supper, and frescoes of the History of St. Dominic and St. Peter Martyr, the founder and the holy man of the Dominican Order.
The compartment of the ceiling above these has an Ascension, with Christ in a mandorla, the apostles and Madonna, and the messenger angels (by Taddeo Gaddi?).
TADDEO GADDI. — GLORY OF ST. THOMAS AQUINAS (DETAIL).
The left wall contains a highly allegorical and architectural picture, doubtless correctly ascribed to Taddeo Gaddi, and representing the Glory of St. Thomas Aquinas. Above, the Saint is seated, enthroned, with the open book, as the Doctor of the Church, and the great Dominican teacher. Beneath his feet are the discomfited heretics, Arius, Sabellius, and Averrhoes. (See the similar scene by Benozzo Gozzoli in the Louvre.) By his side are the great teachers among the Prophets and Apostles, their names inscribed beneath them. On the right are St. Matthew and St. Luke the Evangelists, Moses with his conventional horns, Isaiah, and King Solomon; on the left, St. John and St. Mark the Evangelists, St. Paul, the great organiser of Christian teaching, David as the Psalmist, and Job as the dialectician of the Old Testament. Thus these figures represent Doctrine and Dogma under both dispensations. Only in this Dominican church could a great Dominican teacher be so highly exalted at the expense of the earlier canonical writers. Note the angels above, with their various symbols.
The lower tier consists of symbolical figures of the Arts and Sciences, with various personages at their feet distinguished for proficiency in them. The following is their order from left to right: Civil Law, with Justinian; Canon Law, with Pope Clement V. (a portrait); Practical Theology, with Pietro Lombardo, “magister sententiarum;” Speculative Theology, with Boethius; Faith, with St. Dionysius the Areopagite; Hope, with St. John of Damascus; Charity, with St. Augustine; Arithmetic, with Pythagoras; Geometry, with Euclid; Astronomy, with Ptolemy; Music, with Tubal-Cain; Dialectic, with Aristotle; Rhetoric, with Cicero; and Grammar, with Priscian. The whole thus represents the philosophical and teaching faculty of the Dominicans, as the opposite side represents their pastoral activity in saving souls.
The two great frescoes may indeed be distinguished as the spiritual and temporal mission of the Dominicans.
The compartment of the ceiling above this fresco represents the Descent of the Holy Ghost on the Day of Pentecost (by Taddeo Gaddi?). The Spirit, as a dove, is descending from heaven, while tongues of fire alight on the heads of the Madonna and Apostles, chief among whom, in accordance with the authoritative character of Dominican teaching, is naturally St. Peter. Below, by the closed doors, are the various nations, who hear the Apostles speak with tongues, each understanding that of his own country. Observe the Moors and the Oriental costume of some of the characters.
Come often to this chapel until you have learned to understand its architectural plan and have puzzled out such of its infinite details as cannot here be adequately explained to you. It is not well, indeed, to be told ev
erything. I shall be quite satisfied if I put you on the track, leaving you to find out many points for yourself. But sit long and observe, remembering that everything in this Chapter-house of Dominicanism is full of meaning. In my judgment, too, these pictures are as beautiful as works of art as they are important as a body of Dominican theology. The little group of the Souls as they enter Heaven is one of the most charming and attractive conceptions of all Giottesque painting.
It is impossible to over-estimate the value of photographs for the study of frescoes, especially when the originals are either defaced or faded. Every one knows how fatiguing it is to stand long in a church and look up at the walls. The photograph you can inspect at your leisure at home, and so familiarise yourself at least with the composition and the story of the subject. After you have thus got to know the picture in black and white, return to the church to examine it again. You will then find that the colour and the size, as well as the artist’s touch, vivify and brighten what in the photograph was often dead and meaningless. Also the photograph, besides giving you the composition in a measurable space which the eye can grasp, so generalises the figures as often to supply in effect missing lines and obscure portions. Of course you must not rely on the photograph alone; but, when used in conjunction with, and as supplementary to, the frescoes themselves, these secondary aids are simply invaluable. I advise you to apply them here in particular to the Ghirlandajos of the choir (especially for comparison with the two Lives of the Virgin by Taddeo Gaddi and Giovanni da Milano in Santa Croce), and also to the frescoes of the Spanish Chapel. If you wish to specialise, I would suggest as the best theme the subject of the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple, which is treated by all three of these successive artists, as well as by several panel-painters at the Belle Arti.
Above all, seek to learn the legends. Religious symbolism is the language of early art: you cannot expect to understand the art if you will not take the trouble to acquire the language.
If you read French, and wish to go deeper into the paintings in this church and elsewhere in Florence, get Lafenestre’s “Florence,” in the series of “La Peinture en Europe,” — a capital book which gives a full account of every noteworthy picture in the city.
CHAPTER VI.
THE OLD CATHEDRAL.
After the Dominicans and the Franciscans, the town began to bestir itself.
In Dante’s time, we saw the only church of any importance which Florence yet possessed was the old octagonal Baptistery, then the Cathedral of San Giovanni Battista. This building (praised by Dante beyond its merits, because the town had then none better) is a small and not wholly successful specimen of that beautiful Tuscan-Romanesque architecture, which reaches so splendid and typical a development in the Cathedral of Pisa and its surrounding edifices. If you have not been to Pisa, however, you can only compare San Giovanni with the church of San Miniato on the hill south of Florence (which go up to see after inspecting the Baptistery). But San Giovanni was, in its original condition, a much more insignificant building than at present, its chief existing external ornaments being the great bronze doors, and the bronze or marble statues, which were added later.
At the end of the thirteenth century, once more, when Santa Croce and Santa Maria Novella were rapidly rising in the garden belt outside Florence, the city began to be not unnaturally ashamed of this mean little cathedral. Pisa had already her magnificent group of buildings fully completed; Siena, stirred to rivalry, had begun and nearly finished her noble and beautiful Duomo. Florence, now risen to the first position in Tuscany, felt it incumbent upon her to produce a building which should outdo both of them. In this design, indeed, she was not wholly successful: her Duomo, though larger than either, fails to come up to its elder rivals in many important points of beauty. Fully to understand the Cathedral of Florence, therefore, you should have seen first both Pisa and Siena, on which it is based, with enormous differences. At Pisa, the actual dome, above the intersection of nave and transept, is relatively insignificant. At Siena it assumes somewhat larger proportions. At Florence, even as originally designed by Arnolfo, it was to be very much bigger, and, as completed by Brunelleschi, it far outdid all previous efforts.
The Baptistery had of course been dedicated, like all other baptisteries, to St. John the Baptist, who was therefore the patron saint of Florence. But the increasing importance of the Holy Virgin in the thirteenth century (see my “Paris,” under Notre-Dame) made the Florentines desire to dedicate this their new cathedral to Our Lady. It was therefore erected in honour of Santa Maria del Fiore, that is to say, Our Lady of the Florentine Lily, which appears in the city arms, and pervades all Florence. You will see it everywhere. The Duomo was begun in 1294, on the site occupied by the earlier church of Santa Reparata, who also ranked as one of the chief patron saints of old Florence. As usual in such cases, many memorials of the saint of the original dedication survive to this day in the existing building. The first architect was Arnolfo di Cambio, a pupil of Niccolò Pisano, who executed the beautiful pulpit in the Baptistery at Pisa, where antique work is first imitated. (Recollect too that Giovanni Pisano, who built the cathedral of Siena, was himself a son of Niccolò.) Thus, in order fully to understand the sequence and meaning of these three cathedrals, with their sculpture and architecture, you should (if possible) pay visits to them in the order of Pisa, Siena, Florence, with Bologna thrown in on your way homeward. This alone will enable you to understand the marvellous influence of the Pisani, and especially of that singular and original artist, Niccolò, the first mediæval craftsman who aimed at imitation of and rivalry with the antique.
THE CATHEDRAL.
Arnolfo’s work was afterward carried on by Giotto, who, like most men of his century, was architect and sculptor as well as painter. It was Giotto who added to the original design the beautiful marble-crusted Campanile, the noblest work of its sort in Italy. The fresco of the Church Militant and Triumphant in the Spanish Chapel shows the original form intended for the cathedral by Arnolfo, with the additions made by Giotto and Taddeo Gaddi. The exterior was gradually incrusted during successive ages with its beautiful polychromatic marble coating, with the exception of the façade, the lower part of which alone was so adorned, as may be seen in Poccetti’s lunette in the cloisters of San Marco, to be hereafter mentioned. This façade was afterward pulled down, and the front of the cathedral remained a shapeless mass of rubble, like that of San Lorenzo, till 1875. The dome, with its beautiful ribs, which make it so much lovelier than any other, was designed by Brunelleschi, and constructed in 1420-1434. The façade, which is quite modern, was added by De Fabris in 1875.
A full study of the Cathedral of Florence with its group of subsidiary buildings can only be attempted with the aid of a thorough architectural description. You must arrive at it gradually. I will content myself with pointing out a few of the more salient elements likely to interest the general reader. If you wish to know more, run down to Pisa, and up to Siena, and study carefully the work of the Pisani. Recollect that while, in painting, Florence was fairly original, in architecture and sculpture she did but follow the much earlier lead of the two other great Tuscan cities.
Remember then, in the first place, that the Baptistery is practically the oldest building in Florence, and is the original cathedral, but that most of its external decorations are of later date; and in the second place, that it is dedicated to St. John the Baptist, and that all its parts have reference to its purpose and dedication; that the cathedral is dedicated to Our Lady, and that it replaces an older church of Santa Reparata; and that it owes its existing form to the successive efforts of many great architects.
A few more points must be noted. The cathedral, when completed, was the largest church then existing in Italy. St. Peter’s at Rome was designed to outdo it. Its dome was the biggest ever yet erected: view it from the Piazzale Michael Angelo on the way to San Miniato, and observe how its ribs make it much more beautiful and effective than any other dome. In addition to its original
and secondary patrons, the cathedral also contained the remains of the local holy bishop, St. Zenobius (San Zanobi), who was of great importance in early times as an object of cult in Florence. The Duomo, again, was confessedly erected (in the document which decrees it) as a monument worthy in size, dignity, and beauty, not of its sacred use, but of the Florentine people. Few churches are, on the whole, so much a national monument, and so little a place of divine worship. Everything here is sacrificed to the beauty and size of the exterior, which is vast and impressive. The interior, on the other hand, being destitute of vistas and long rows of columns, looks very much smaller than it really is, and contrasts most unfavourably in this respect with the immense apparent size of Pisa. The architects fell into the mistake of thinking that by making all the parts large, you would gain an idea of vastness — which is quite untrue. You can comprehend its great actual size only by visiting it again and again. There is little or nothing, however, to explain or understand. You must dwell upon it, and it grows upon you. I do not enlarge upon the history of the church, because that you must read up in Miss Horner, Mrs. Oliphant, Fergusson, and elsewhere. See also Perkins’s “Tuscan Sculptors.”
To visit first the oldest cathedral, go along the Via Cerretani as far as the Piazza which contains the Baptistery. The column of speckled marble which faces you to the right, just north of the Baptistery, was erected to commemorate a miracle which took place on the translation of the remains of St. Zenobius from San Lorenzo. A tree which grew on this spot burst suddenly into leaf, out of due season, as the body of the saint was being carried by. You will find many pictures of this curious miracle in Florentine galleries. Remember it.
