by Grant Allen
Go along any street, as far as the Duomo: then, turn down the Via Calzaioli. On your right, as you turn the corner, is the beautiful little Loggia of the *Bigallo, probably designed by Orcagna, and built in 1352. Notice here the peculiar Florentine combination of round arches with Gothic architecture. The statues over the front, toward the Piazza, by Filippo di Cristoforo, represent a Madonna and Child, flanked by St. Dominic and St. Mary Magdalen.
COURT OF THE PALAZZO VECCHIO.
Continue down the Via Calzaioli till you come to the Piazza della Signoria. Observe the façade of the Palazzo Vecchio. Then enter the outer court, built by Michelozzo (whose hand you will now recognise) in the Renaissance style, in 1432. The elaborate decorations were added in 1565; though very florid, they have a certain picturesqueness which is not unpleasing. The centre is occupied by a charming little *fountain, by Verrocchio, representing a Boy on a Dolphin. The surrounding sculptures, as well as those at the door, are by inferior Renaissance artists, and quite uninteresting. So is Bartolommeo Ammanati’s great fountain, in the square, with Neptune and Tritons. The equestrian *statue (in bronze) of Cosimo I., by Giovanni da Bologna, is scarcely more interesting. It has high technical merit, but lacks grace or beauty.
(Michael Angelo’s David stood till recently at the door of the Palazzo Vecchio. So did the Marzocco, at present in the Bargello.)
Now, turn to the Loggia dei Lanzi. Note the noble sweep of the large round arches, and the character of the decorations. Observe its resemblance (on a larger scale) to the Bigallo. The figures on the frieze above are after designs by Agnolo Gaddi, and are fine examples of the characteristic Gothic allegorical personages, with incipient Renaissance leanings. They represent Faith, Hope, Charity, Temperance, and Fortitude. Identify the symbols with an opera-glass.
Of the pieces of sculpture within the Loggia, by far the most important are the two bronzes.
The one facing the Piazza, to the left of the steps, is * *Benvenuto Cellini’s Perseus, — one of the most perfect works of its kind ever cast in metal. The lightness and delicacy of the workmanship, the airy coquettish grace of the young hero, as he holds aloft the head of the slaughtered Medusa, have never been equalled in their own peculiar bravura manner. The work, however, is rather that of a glorified artistic silversmith than of a sculptor properly so called. You can see in every line and limb that the effects aimed at, — and supremely attained, — are those of decorative metal-work, not those of greater bronzes and marbles. Cellini has here transcended the proper limits of his peculiar art; and he has done so triumphantly. The result justifies him. Stand and look, long and often, at this perfect marvel of technical excellence. When you have exhausted the central figure, turn to the reliefs and statuettes at the base, also by Cellini. (The relief in front, *Perseus rescuing Andromeda, is a copy; the original you will see when you visit the Bargello.) The *four admirable figures in the niches represent respectively, Jupiter (Zeus), the father of Perseus; Danaë, his mother; Minerva (Athene); and Mercury (Hermes), both of whom befriended him. (Read up the story in a classical dictionary, if you do not already know it.) The Latin verses on the base are neat and appropriate.
The second bronze, round the corner toward the Uffizi, is *Donatello’s Judith, with the head of Holofernes, erected in front of the Palazzo Vecchio after the expulsion of the Medici. It bears the inscription, “Salutis Publicæ Exemplum.” The work, however, is heavy and confused, and shows that Donatello had not yet wholly mastered the art of modelling for bronze-casting. The reliefs below are better, especially that of *Cupid and Psyche.
The other sculpture in the Loggia is of less importance. By the steps are two lions; to the right, an antique; to the left, one by Flaminio Vacca. Under the arch, on the right, is a marble group of the *Rape of the Sabines, by Giovanni da Bologna, with good *relief beneath it. Within, left, is a modern group of the Rape of Polyxena, by Fedi, not wholly unworthy of the company in which it finds itself. In the centre, is the *Dying Ajax (or perhaps, Menelaus with the body of Patroclus) a good antique, probably a Greek original; another example of the same exists at Rome, where it is known as Pasquino. This replica has been greatly restored. On the right is a frigid Hercules slaying the Centaur Nessus, by Giovanni da Bologna. By the back wall are five antique portrait-statues of Vestals or Priestesses: together with a *heroic barbarian female figure, known as the Thusnelda (the third on the left), and remarkable for its powerful expression of grief on a fine half-savage countenance.
LOGGIA DEI LANZI.
In visiting the Uffizi, you proceed round the corner from the Loggia dei Lanzi, and enter a spacious quadrangle, a narrow oblong in shape, and open at the side toward the Palazzo Vecchio. The Palazzo degli Uffizi, which girdles this quadrangle, was erected as public offices (whence the name) by Vasari, in 1560, and completed by Alfonso Parigi, in 1580. Round the lower floor runs a continuous arcade, the Portico degli Uffizi, the niches of which, after remaining long empty, have been adorned in our own time with a series of marble statues of distinguished Tuscans, all named below, which it is well worth while some day to go round and inspect or identify. The building contains, in its lower portion, the Post Office, the Central Archives of Tuscany, and the National Library; but of course to the visitor its chief importance is derived from the picture gallery and sculpture on the upper floor.
The collections in the Uffizi are, on the whole, the most important and valuable in Florence. In painting, it is true, the gallery contains fewer fine works of the great Early Renaissance artists than does the Belle Arti; but on the other hand, it is rich in paintings by Raphael, it has some noble designs by Leonardo and Fra Bartolommeo, and it represents more fully than the rival gallery the pictorial art of the High Renaissance. Moreover, it is not confined to Tuscan and Umbrian works (to which nevertheless I advise you in Florence mainly to address yourself) but has some admirable North Italian and Venetian specimens, by Mantegna, Titian, Giorgione, and others. Outside Italy altogether, it also embraces some noble Flemish, German, and Dutch works, which it will be impossible for you to pass by wholly unnoticed. Then, finally, it has in addition its collection of sculpture, including several famous works, once unduly over-praised, as well as many antiques, less celebrated in their way, but often more deserving of serious attention. I have endeavoured to note in passing the most important of all these various treasures, giving most attention, it is true, to Tuscan and Umbrian handicraft, but not neglecting the products of other schools, nor the antique sculpture.
As everywhere, my aim here has been purely explanatory. If at times I have diverged into an occasional expression of æsthetic approbation or the opposite, I hope the reader will bear in mind that I never pretend to do so with authority, and that my likes and dislikes are merely those of the average man, not of the professed critic.
Do not attempt to see all the Uffizi at one visit, or even any large part of it. Begin with a little bit, and examine that thoroughly. Do not try to combine the paintings and sculpture in any one room; observe them separately on different occasions. Follow for each class the general order here given; you will then find the subject unfold itself naturally. Study Baedeker’s excellent plan of the rooms before you go in. Recollect that the galleries extend, in three arms, right round the top floor of the entire building, as seen from outside; this will help you to understand the ground-plan of the rooms, as well as the charming glimpses and views from the windows.
A passage, built quaintly over houses and shops, and distinguishable outside, crosses the Ponte Vecchio from the Uffizi to the Pitti. It was designed by the Medici as a means of intercommunication, and also as a place of possible escape in case of risings or other danger. You can cross by means of it from one gallery to the other; but you must pay an extra franc for entrance in the middle.
CHAPTER II.
THE LONG CORRIDOR OF THE UFFIZI.
Approach from the Piazza della Signoria. The entrance is by the second door under the portico on the left hand side of the Uffizi Palace. (The stat
ues and busts on the staircase and in the vestibule, etc., will be treated separately, with the other sculptures.)
The Long Gallery, which we first enter, contains for the most part early works in painting, many of which are of comparatively slight artistic importance. I advise you to begin with the paintings alone, not attempting to combine them with the sculpture in the same day. Turn to the right on entering the gallery, and start at the end of the room with the oldest pictures.
Number 1 is a Græco-Byzantine Madonna, of the tenth century, interesting as representative of the starting-point of Italian art. It should be compared with 2, an Italian picture aiming at the same style (twelfth century), which again leads up (at a distance) to the Cimabue in Santa Maria Novella. Observe the superior technique of the Byzantine. These early Madonnas deserve close attention.
Number 3 is a Crucifix, where the position of the Madonna and St. John on the ends of the arms is highly characteristic: the type survives till quite a late period. By its sides are small scenes from the Passion, the types in which should be carefully noted. The face of the St. Peter, for example, in the upper left compartment, already strikes a key-note; while the Christ in Limbo, delivering Adam and Eve from the jaws of death, contains all the salient elements which you will find, improved and transformed in later versions. Note in crucifixes the point where the two separate nails in the feet, seen in this example and the next, are replaced by the single nail, a later representation. Observe also whether the eyes are open or closed.
Number 4 has the same devices of towers and canopies, to mark towns and interiors, to which I have already called attention in the barbaric Magdalen at the Belle Arti.
Number 6, a Crucifix with the single nail, has the position of St. John and the Virgin well marked on the cross-pieces. The pelican feeding her young above is symbolical. It recurs often. I do not dwell upon these very early works, as they lack artistic interest; but the visitor who takes the trouble to examine them in detail, as well as the Madonnas in their neighbourhood, will be repaid for his trouble. For example, 5, by Guido da Siena, an important early Sienese master, marks decided advance upon 2, and leads the way to the later Sienese manner, which is already present in embryo in this picture.
In 7, do not overlook Peter and Paul, and St. Catherine between the wheels, in the predella.
The next, 8, is a fine altar-piece, attributed to Giotto, of the Agony in the Garden, where the angel with the literal cup and the three sleeping Apostles are highly characteristic of the type. You have seen them elsewhere in later examples. Note the little figure of the donor at the side. The Kiss of Judas and the Parting of the Raiment in the predella must not be omitted.
Number 9 is a Florentine altar-piece, where the Madonna and Child are flanked by the patron of the city, St. John the Baptist, and the local bishop, San Zanobi, identifiable by the Florentine lily on his morse or buckle.
Then, 10, St. Bartholomew enthroned, with his usual knife, and angels recalling the manner of Cimabue, was of course painted for an altar dedicated to the saint. Note these saints enthroned, in the same way as Our Lady, often with other saints forming a court around them.
Beside it are two Giottesque Crucifixions, in the first of which, 13, the position of the Madonna, the Magdalen, and St. John, and the angel catching the sacred blood, will by this time be familiar. In the second, 12 (a Crucifix), note the gradual approximation to reality in the altered positions of Our Lady and St. John as contrasted with those in earlier Crucifixions.
Number 11 is again a Florentine Madonna, with the two local saints, John the Baptist and Zanobi, a mandorla of cherubs, and angels holding the Florentine lily. Note that this is sometimes represented by the white lily and sometimes by the iris.
Number 14 is an altar-piece of the school of Orcagna, St. John the Evangelist, enthroned, with his eagle by his side, trampling on the vices, in a fashion which is characteristic of Dominican painting. They bear their names: Pride, Avarice, Vainglory. Notice, above, the characteristic Christ, holding the Alpha and Omega. You will do well to spend a whole morning (if you can spare the time), in attentive study of these first fourteen numbers. They cast floods of light on subsequent painting.
Beyond the door is 17, an Ascension of St. John the Evangelist; an altar-piece closely suggested by Giotto’s fresco in Santa Croce. Compare with photographs.
Above it, 15, by Pietro Lorenzetti, is a characteristic and gentle Sienese Madonna. Compare it with Guido’s Number 5. Observe the placid Sienese angels, with their somewhat ill-humoured mouths, drawn fretfully downward, a survival from the morose Byzantine severity. Very early art is never joyous. The inscription is curious, because in it, as in most pictures of the school of Siena, the panel itself speaks in the first person — So-and-so painted me.
Number 16, the story of the Anchorites in the Desert, by Pietro Lorenzetti, is partly reminiscent of the great fresco in the Campo Santo at Pisa. Most of its many episodes you will find explained in Mrs. Jameson. It takes much studying.
Above, 26, is a good altar-piece by Bernardo Daddi; St. Matthew, St. Nicholas of Bari. Nicholas was the name of the donor.
From this point the technical excellence of the pictures increases rapidly. 20, St. Cecilia, patroness of music, once wrongly attributed to Cimabue, is a good and stately Giottesque figure, for her altar in her old church at Florence, now destroyed. Round it are eight (habitual) stories of her life. On the left side, in the first is her wedding feast (note the music); in the second she reasons with her husband, Valerian, in favour of virginity; in the third an angel crowns Cecilia and Valerian; in the fourth Cecilia converts her husband’s brother, Tiburtius. On the right side, in the fifth picture, is the baptism of Tiburtius; in the sixth, Cecilia’s preaching; in the seventh, her trial before a Roman Court; and in the eighth, her martyrdom in flames in her bath. All are quaintly and interestingly treated. See Mrs. Jameson.
The altar-piece above has its name inscribed on it. Its types are worth study.
Number 23, * *Simone Martini and Lippo Memmi, the Annunciation, is one of the loveliest altar-pieces of the early school of Siena. The exquisite angel, to the left, bears a branch of olive (beautifully treated) instead of the more usual lily, which, however, stands in a vase to separate him from the Madonna. Note the words of the Salutation (raised in gold) issuing from his mouth, and the inscriptions on his charming flowing ribbons. Do not omit the exquisite work of his robe. Our Lady herself, seated in a dainty inlaid chair, representative of the finest ecclesiastical furniture of this period, shrinks away, as often. The book and curtain are habitual. The Madonna’s almond-shaped eyes and somewhat fretful drawn-down mouth still faintly recall Byzantine precedents. But the mild Sienese spirit and fine painting of the piece are admirable. Do not overlook the dove escorted in the centre in a mandorla of cherubs, and the three arches isolating the personages. Linger long over this masterpiece. To the right and left are two patron saints of Siena, Sant’Ansano and Saint Juliet, with their palms of martyrdom. Here, again, in the inscription, the picture speaks. Compare this exquisite altar-piece in all its details with previous works of the school of Siena. It is one of the loveliest things in this gallery.
SIMONE MARTINI AND LIPPO MEMMI. — ANNUNCIATION.
In 22, observe the Annunciation, above, in two compartments; the coat of arms; and the singular inscription, “Hear the other side,” probably betokening it as a votive offering from a party to a quarrel, in opposition to some other already dedicated. (The official catalogue refers it to some court of justice.)
Number 27, attributed to the (doubtful) painter Giottino, is a very fine Deposition from the Cross, reminiscent in its principal figures of the Giotto at Padua. The saints to the right, showing the nails, may be well compared as to attitude with the great Fra Angelico at the Belle Arti. To the left are two donors, with their patrons placing their hands on their heads. The one in white is St. Benedict: the other I take to be, not San Zanobi, but St. Remi (Remigio), from whose church the picture comes.
Number 29, Niccolò di Piero Gerini’s Coronation of the Madonna, with attendant group of Florentine patron saints, comes from the Mint of Florence. You will recognise the Baptist; Santa Reparata (with her red cross flag); San Zanobi; St. Anne, holding the town of Florence; St. Catherine with her spiked wheel; St. Joseph with the budded staff; St. John the Evangelist on the right holding his Gospel; St. Matthew on the left holding his, with the first word inscribed, etc.
Number 30, the Doubting Thomas of the school of Agnolo Gaddi, is a characteristic treatment.
Number 31 is another Coronation of the Virgin. The saints are named. Note their characteristics. The one you may fail to recognise is St. Ivo, who is in Florence the patron of orphans. Observe the combination of Francis and Dominic. In the cuspidi is an Annunciation, in two portions.
Number 36 is another Annunciation, of the school of Orcagna. Here the division, such as it is, is made by means of the arches. Unless I mistake, two separate panels have here been united. This often happens in Annunciations.
Number 32 is an altar-piece by Giovanni da Milano, with group of named saints. Below are choruses of Virgins, Martyrs, Patriarchs, etc. All have their names. Note their characteristics. The picture was painted for the church of Ognissanti (All Saints), whence the assemblage. Catherine and Lucy often go together. The latter has two symbols, both significant of her name: a flame, or her eyes in a dish. Originally only emblems to suggest the name, these marks have later legends attached to them. The two holy martyrs, St. Stephen and St. Lawrence, buried in the same grave, also go together. See in Mrs. Jameson the quaint story of how Lawrence, “the courteous Spaniard,” turned over on his side to give the best place to the earlier martyr. In the last of the group, the scallop-shell of St. James marks him as the saint to whose great shrine (Santiago de Compostella) pilgrims make religious journeys. The dove at St. Gregory’s ear we have often before noted. I cannot too strongly recommend study of such named saints and choruses for identification afterward. Notice among those below: Reparata, with her flag; Agnes with her lamb; and Margaret with her dragon, among the Virgins; Noah with his ark, among the Patriarchs, and so forth. The Prophets hold distinctive verses in the Vulgate from their own writings. Above, in small circles, the Lord creating heaven and earth.