by Grant Allen
On the window wall, 384, Pollaiolo’s St. Sebastian, a study of the mere anatomical nude, is well drawn but repulsive, harsh, and uninteresting; the model a bad one. As compared with Perugino and Sodoma in the same subject, it shows the temperament of the purely scientific Renaissance artist. Several other works in this room are well worth study, but need no explanation, and can be easily discovered by the reader for himself.
The Stanza del Poccetti, beyond, does not contain anything that calls for notice in this book. A long corridor leads hence, through Florentine mosaics and miniatures (some of them excellent), to the Stanza della Giustizia, which contains admirable portraits, and a few good works of the late period. Hondekoeter’s cocks and hens, however, explain themselves. Scarselino’s Birth of a Noble Infant is interesting as recalling earlier types of the Birth of the Virgin. Vasari’s St. Jerome similarly shows us the last stage in the treatment of that familiar subject. Guido’s St. Elizabeth is rather more pleasing than most of his work. Some of the portraits by Bronzino and Allori are also attractive in their way. The (second) Bonifazio’s Finding of Christ in the Temple shows a complete breaking away from earlier tradition. Sir Peter Lely’s Cromwell, sent as a present to the Grand Duke Ferdinand II. by the Protector, will interest English visitors. I leave the other works, and the cabinet in the centre, to the taste of the reader.
The Stanza di Flora contains chiefly late works, of which I shall only mention Van Dyck’s Repose on the Flight into Egypt. The merit of the rest can be appreciated, as good or bad, at the spectator’s own valuation. I will say the same of the last room, the Sala dei Putti. It is given over to Salvator Rosa and the Carracci.
The Boboli Gardens, behind the Pitti Palace, afford several striking and characteristic views of Florence.
CHAPTER X.
THE BARGELLO.
The chief magistrate of Florence in very early times was the Podestà. This office was created in 1207, and the judicial functions were entrusted to the officer so named, who (owing to the mutual jealousy of the internal factions) had to be a foreigner, elected for six months, or later for a year, like mayors elsewhere. Even after the Guilds had introduced their commercial oligarchical system, the Podestà still retained his judicial position. In 1255 (earlier than the building of the Palazzo Vecchio) the town began to erect a castle for its magistrate, known at first as the Palazzo del Podestà, but handed over later to the chief of the police under the Medici Grand Dukes, from whom it derives its usual modern name of the Bargello. The existing Government has fitted up the interior as a museum of plastic and minor arts; and it is, therefore, now officially described as the Regio Museo Nazionale. But nobody ever calls it by any other name save that of the Bargello. It is one of the sights which is absolutely imperative.
Take the Via del Proconsolo, from the Piazza del Duomo. On the left as you descend is the Bargello. Stand opposite and examine the façade and tower. The portion that faces you is the original building (restored). The part at the back is a little later. It takes at least two days to see it cursorily.
The entrance hall, a fine specimen of a vaulted secular interior of its age, contains suits of armour, helmets, etc., the designs on many of which are worthy of notice. Most of them belonged to the Medici family. Also firearms, swords, and other weapons, among which notice a splendid cannon, cast in 1638 by Cosimo Cenni, with the Head of Medusa, the Florentine lion (the Marzocco), the Medici balls, and other devices. Last cabinet, helmet and shield of François Ier of France, of Milanese workmanship. Round the walls are a series of escutcheons. The room to the left, beneath the tower, contains a continuation of the same collection.
BARGELLO (PALAZZO DEL PODESTÀ).
Enter the courtyard, with its central well and fine open loggia, a remarkable specimen of secular architecture of the thirteenth century. Note the round arches and the columns of the pillars. Also the escutcheons of former Podestàs which surround the court, and the effective triumphal arch on the staircase. Nowhere else in Florence do we feel ourselves so entirely transported to the city and age of Dante. The arms of the quarters of the city in the loggia have the names of the wards to which they belong inscribed below them. Note for future guidance: you will see them elsewhere. The best view of the picturesque quadrangle, with the beautiful loggia on the first floor, is obtained from the corner opposite as you enter.
The works of sculpture (some of them second-rate) which surround the court are sufficiently described on their official labels. Notice those by Niccolò di Piero Lamberti and by Piero di Giovanni Tedesco, from Or San Michele, as throwing light on Donatello’s beginnings. Also, Giovanni da Bologna’s Architecture, on a fine Renaissance base with Medici balls and feathers; and a Penitent Magdalen in the desert, where the sense of form of the sixteenth century has triumphed over the earlier asceticism which dominated the subject. Baccio Bandinelli’s Adam and Eve have the feebleness and vapidity which pursue that ambitious but ineffective sculptor’s work. Michael Angelo’s *Dying Adonis, however, is a fine though confused piece of sculpture, with a noble face, and well conceived hands. Giovanni da Bologna’s *Virtue triumphant over Vice shows the French tinge of feeling and the usual merits and failings of its powerful but theatrical artist. Michael Angelo’s *Victory, unfinished as usual, is one of the figures intended for the Tomb of Julius II., of which the so-called Fettered Slaves in the Louvre were also portions. Between the two last is a handsome Renaissance doorway, with symbols of St. Mark and the familiar Venetian inscription: “Peace to thee, Mark my Evangelist.”
The door opposite the entrance to the court gives access to two small rooms on the ground floor, with fine fragments of sculpture, mostly mediæval in the first, and sufficiently explained by their labels. The first room has, over the door, a noble Gothic canopy, with Christ and saints, originally on the façade of Santa Maria Novella. Notice to the left the arms of the wool-weavers, the lamb of St. John of Florence. In the centre, 90, is a Bacchus, perhaps by Giovanni dell’Opera. To the right of it, a fine Renaissance wash-hand fountain, above which are good figures by Simone Talenti. 50, 51, 52, a fine Madonna, and Saints Peter and Paul, with their symbols, brought here from the old Porta Romana. Close to them are two marzocchi, or Florentine lions. I do not call attention to most of the works in this room because they are sufficiently described by their labels: but almost all should be noted and examined, particularly those of the School of Andrea Pisano.
The second room, on the left wall, contains a beautiful series of *reliefs, gravely injured, narrating the life and miracles of San Giovanni Gualberto, founder of the Vallombrosans, by Benedetto da Rovezzano. (They come from the tomb of the saint in the monastery of San Salvi, and were recklessly destroyed by imperial soldiers during the siege of 1530.) 93, San Giovanni Gualberto delivers a monk from a demon. 95 shows the miracle of San Pietro Igneo passing through the fire. 101 is San Giovanni Gualberto on his bier, Faith and Charity at the sides, mourning. 104 represents the translation of his relics from Passignano, with cure of the sick as they pass (an epileptic boy particularly fine). In 107, heretics attack the monks of San Salvi. These exquisite works, Benedetto’s best (1506), deserve the closest attention. (See Perkins’s “Tuscan Sculptors,” and Mrs. Jameson’s “Monastic Orders.”)
On the end wall is a noble *mantelpiece, also by Benedetto da Rovezzano, classical in style, representing apparently Apollo, Pluto, and Jupiter (?). This is also one of the most exquisite works of Renaissance sculpture. On the left of it is Michael Angelo’s unfinished *Bust of Brutus: the inscription explains that he had not the heart to finish it after Florence lost her freedom: but then, he seldom finished anything. On the right is Bandinelli’s insipid Cosimo I.
On the right wall, 123, is a beautiful * *Madonna and Child by Michael Angelo, an early work; not a sacred face, but calm, matronly, and beautiful, like a high-born mother. Here, also, are several reliefs by Pierino da Vinci, Leonardo’s nephew. 124, a Masque of a Satyr, attributed without due cause to Michael Angelo, is ugly and repulsive, though
not without cleverness. In 128, *Michael Angelo’s Bacchus, the pose of the figure is not entirely worthy of the great sculptor; but the head and some other parts are most masterly. 133 is a beautiful Madonna and Child, with infant St. John the Baptist of Florence, by Andrea Ferrucci. Beside it, 131, is a *beautiful tabernacle, of perfect proportions and workmanship; beneath it, a good reduction of Michael Angelo’s Leda. 134, Antonio Rossellino’s (?) lovely *tabernacle for the elements, with adoring angels. All the Renaissance decorative work in this room deserves the closest attention, especially the two exquisite *niches, on either side of the doorway, by Benedetto da Rovezzano. Baccio Bandinelli’s portrait relief, 136, has rare merit for this vapid sculptor.
Go out into the courtyard, and mount the stairs, noticing as you go the numerous escutcheons and memorial tablets of city officials and others; pass under the triumphal arch: and enter the loggia on the first floor, with its vaulted roof spangled with Florentine lilies. This gallery (the Verone) contains a collection of bells, many of them with fine reliefs and interesting or amusing inscriptions.
Enter the First Hall, fitted up as a museum of the works of Donatello. Many of the best originals in Florence are here collected: beside them are placed for comparison casts from Donatello’s work in other cities, such as the equestrian statue of Gattamelata at Padua, etc. Among the originals, one of the most important and interesting is on the left wall, the Marzocco, or lion holding the Florentine lily, which long stood in front of the Palazzo Vecchio, but is now replaced by a copy.
In the centre of the room, to the left, is *the David, in bronze, a fine but rather early work, when the master had not yet arrived at his final conceptions of plastic beauty. The pose is a little too self-conscious; the young victor places his foot too proudly on the head of Goliath; and the shepherd’s hat shades the face ungracefully: but the nude is good, and the work is still most original and charming. Note how this subject of David colours Tuscan sculpture of the Renaissance. Fine relief on Goliath’s helmet — representing Victory. To the right is an Amorino, also in bronze, with the open mouth and pose of the hands so characteristic of the sculptor.
On the wall opposite the entrance is a beautiful bronze bust of a young man, with exquisite cameo of Victory; near it, a * *charming relief of an open-mouthed young St. John the Baptist: close by, a *coloured bust of Niccolo da Uzzano, powerful, but unpleasantly realistic. Then, the penitent St. John the Baptist in the desert, a work which should be compared with the wooden Magdalen of the same type in the Baptistery. Recollect that here Donatello is not aiming at pure plastic effect, — certainly not at beauty, — but is endeavouring to realise an ascetic ideal in accordance with the needs and aims of sculpture. In both these St. Johns, the parted lips are highly characteristic. Compare with the plaster casts of two others, at the base of the Gattamelata statue; also with the older type by the first right window. On the end wall is the original * *St. George, from Or San Michele, now replaced by a copy. This is a very noble realisation of the soldier saint, the ideal of chivalry, remarkable for its mingled valour and purity. Observe how brave and bold, and yet how modest. In this work, Donatello first knew himself. Beneath is a relief of St. George and the Dragon, with the exposed princess, a charming figure, looking on in the background. This last little work may well be compared with the Michel Colombe in the Louvre, as representative of Italian as opposed to French feeling. Compare it also with the plaster cast beneath the Deposition.
DONATELLO. — ST. GEORGE.
By the entrance wall is David with the head of Goliath, in marble — a fine early work whose face should be compared with that of the St. George. In the attitude, which is graceful, there is a little too much of conscious jauntiness. Later, Donatello attains to more modest courage. Close by, a bust of Genevra Cavalcanti, in bronze, is a successful rendering of an unattractive personage. All the casts and originals in this room should be carefully compared with originals elsewhere in Florence. Nowhere else in the world does so good an opportunity exist for becoming acquainted with the style and spirit of this prince of early Renaissance sculpture. Compare particularly all the St. Johns, young and old: and note that some of the former are the boy ascetic in the desert, while others are just the joyous young patron of Florence. These two boyish figures, St. John the Baptist and David, lie at the root of Renaissance sculpture in Tuscany.
The Second Hall, very dark, contains chiefly tapestries.
The Third Hall, once the Audience Chamber of the Podestà, has a collection of bronzes, pictures, and small decorative objects (the Carrand Collection), impossible to enumerate in close detail, though many of them deserve the greatest attention. It was given by a French benefactor, and is quite as largely French as Florentine. On the entrance wall is a fragment of the School of Taddeo Gaddi, with St. Michael the Archangel and St. Catherine; above it, a quaint Judgment of Paris; higher still, an early example of the Florentine group of the Madonna with St. John the Baptist. The opposite side of the door has several interesting pictures, Coronation of the Virgin, Christ and the Magdalen, Decollation of a Saint, and a charming triptych with Madonna and Child and Florentine saints, reminiscent or prophetic of Filippino Lippi. The Noli Me Tangere, St. Veronica’s Towel, and others, are well worth notice.
The first case contains bronzes of the Renaissance and earlier, including, end, a grotesque Old French St. George and the Dragon, with other quaint equestrian figures. On the side toward the window are beautiful Renaissance bronzes: Hercules and Antæus, Plenty, Pomona, a Satyr, mostly by Riccio, a beautiful Amorino, an affected sixteenth century Venetian Fortuna, a fine Mars, Hercules, etc. I do not enumerate these, or the works on the window wall opposite them, among which note a very quaint Marriage of St. Catherine, but all deserve detailed inspection. On the right wall, farther on, are exquisite Flemish panels, an Annunciation, an Adoration of the Magi, a Presentation, etc., etc.; among them, a good Madonna by Hugo Van der Goes. In the next case, centre, are early mosaics, Limoges, and otherwise; a fine crosier, 648; 649, an admirable San Marziale; 650, a reliquary, with the Maries at the Sepulchre; 654, another, with saints and angels; 667, the four Evangelists with their symbols; a good crucifix, Madonnas, etc. I leave these to their labels. At the opposite side is a fine German Flagellation. All need close inspection. The third case contains exquisite ivories, which must be similarly examined by the spectator in detail. On the left side, 175, is a quaint group of Mercury and Polymela, with Venus and Adonis; 164, Triumph of Love; beneath, combs, etc., very curious: identify their subjects. 154 is a quaint Meeting of Joachim and Anna at the Golden Gate, with Stem of Jesse; French art of the fifteenth century. 153 is a characteristic Burgundian St. Catherine, trampling on her persecutor, of a type which will be familiar to visitors to the Louvre. 97 and 98 form a delicious Lombard fourteenth century diptych, with the Nativity, Annunciation, Visitation, Adoration of the Magi, and their visit to Herod. Note this closely. Beside it, 123, is a charming French casket, subjects amply described on labels. 99 is a French diptych, with scenes from the life of Christ, all obvious except the top right hand compartment, which has the common French subject of the Last Judgment, with Resurrection beneath and Christ enthroned above between angels holding the instruments of the Passion, with the Madonna and St. John (or Sainte Geneviève?) kneeling on either side of him; this is exactly like the tympanum of Notre Dame and the Sainte Chapelle. 95 and 96 compose a similar early French diptych, including a Coronation of the Virgin. Notice the regal and affected French type of Madonna. I mention a few only of these beautiful works, but the visitor should inspect and identify each separately. On the opposite side, 60 and 61, are early French chessmen, kings. 26 is an Italo-Byzantine casket, with antique subjects; above it, 93, a quaint French Annunciation. 91 and 92 are French Madonnas. The type will be familiar again to visitors to Cluny and the Louvre. Beneath, 42, is an exquisite early German altar-front of the eleventh century. 24 is a beautiful Byzantine eighth century figure of the Empress Irene. 19, 20, 21 are Roman works of the
intermediate period between the classical and the Byzantine or Romanesque art. All these should be closely studied; the Adam in Paradise, naming the beasts, is extremely luminous. Inspect also the little panels beneath them. 35, the Maries at the Sepulchre, is particularly interesting. In some of these works, such as 35, 37, and 38, we get early forms of subjects afterward conventionalised by Christian art. Search in these for the springs of later motives.
The last case contains arms and armour.
The door at the end has an early (fourteenth century) coloured relief of the Madonna and Child, adored by a Podestà, in the lunette — the Authorities of Florence bowing to Religion. It gives access to Hall Four, the ancient Chapel, dedicated to St. Mary Magdalen. The walls are covered with sadly damaged frescoes, now scarcely discernible. The end wall, with window representing St. John the Baptist, has a fresco of Paradise, attributed to Giotto (more likely a pupil), like Andrea Orcagna’s fresco of the same scene in the Strozzi chapel at Santa Maria Novella. This is interesting to most people chiefly because of the (over-restored) figure of Dante to the right of the window below. But the work itself has also high artistic value. The right wall has frescoes from the life of St. Mary Magdalen, the dedicatory saint. Only a few figures of the frescoes can now be recognised. But the series once ran thus, and can still be identified on bright days, beginning at the top to the left. First, the Magdalen at the feast in the house of Levi; second, the raising of Lazarus; third, entirely gone, Magdalen at the Crucifixion; fourth, the Maries at the Sepulchre; fifth, Christ and the Magdalen in the Garden; sixth, the Angel feeding the Magdalen in the Cave in Provence; seventh, St. Maximin bringing her the last sacrament; eighth, the death of the Magdalen. (I can find no trace of the sister subject, St. Mary of Egypt, mentioned in many guide-books: the opposite wall has the miracle of the Merchant of Marseilles, as at Santa Croce.)
