Chapter XVI
, § 99, postea, p. 261, Vasari gives us an interesting notice of the opening of some new quarries in 1563 near the village of Stazzema, which lies behind the mountains which overhang Pietrasanta, and is approached from Seravezza up the Versiglia, or the gorge of the river Vezza. The road, of which he speaks in this place (p. 261) as in course of making, he mentions in some of his letters of 1564, and also in the Life of Michelangelo, but he gives no indication of its course. It was probably the road from Seravezza across the marsh-land to the sea, a more troublesome affair than roads along mountain valleys.
As regards the products of all these quarries of the Apuan Alps, statuary marble occurs as we have seen in many places, and it is found, where it occurs, in compact masses or nodules embedded in and flanked by marbles impure in colour and streaked and variegated in divers fashions. A vast amount of the marble quarried in the hills is what the quarrymen call ‘Ordinario,’ and is of a grey hue and often streaked with veins, which when well marked give it a new value as ‘fiorito,’ or ‘flowered.’ Of a more decided grey is the prized marble called ‘Bardiglio,’ which is the kind furnished by the ‘alla Cappella’ quarries. Bardiglio again may be ‘fiorito.’ These correspond to the ‘three sorts of marble that come from the mountains of Carrara’ of which Vasari writes in § 97, postea, p. 259, ‘one of which is of a pure and dazzling white, the other not white but of a livid hue, while the third is a grey marble (_marmo bigio_) of a silvery tint.’ The white and the grey are shown in the coloured drawing at J and K.
More decidedly variegated are the marbles known as ‘Mischi’ or ‘Breccias,’ and of these the Stazzema quarries yield the chief supply. The ‘Mischio di Seravezza’ of which Vasari writes in a letter, Gaye, III, 164, was from this locality, and so too the ‘Mischi’ mentioned in §§ 5, 9, ante, pp. 37, 45, of which some are ‘Mischiati di rosso.’ C and D as above show characteristic specimens of Breccias of Stazzema. Repetti, art. ‘Stazzema,’ says that the ‘Bardigli fioriti’ and Breccias of Stazzema are generally known as ‘Mischi da Seravezza.’
It should be mentioned that Massa, between Carrara and Pietrasanta, is also a quarry centre of importance.
Leaving the Apuan Alps, the next marble-producing locality we come to on descending the coast is that of the Monti Pisani, the range of hills separating the territories of Pisa and Lucca. Monte S. Giuliano is on the road between the two cities, and there are quarries near Bagni S. Giuliano about six kilometres from Pisa. It will be seen that Vasari (ante, p. 50) speaks favourably of this marble, and Mr W. Brindley thinks this notice in Vasari is of special interest, as he reports of this marble that ‘for durability and delicate honey-tint it is superior to Carrara.’ The local term ‘ceroide’ ‘wax-like’ used for this stone conveys the same idea. It was used at Lucca as well as on Pisan buildings. From the same quarries come red and veined marbles and Breccias and ‘Mischi’ (Torelli, _Statistica della Provincia di Pisa_, Pisa, 1863).
The exploitation of these marbles was rendered difficult at Pisa by the marshy nature of the ground at the foot of the hills which impeded transport, and Duke Cosimo set himself to find a remedy. He took up the question of drainage and regulation of watercourses in what is called the ‘pianura di Pisa,’ and among the forty medals struck to celebrate his various achievements were some for ‘Clima Pisano Risanato.’ In 1545 an ‘Uffizio dei fossi’ was constituted, and the modern hydraulic system which has done so much to benefit this region, dates from these measures of Cosimo. Vasari, § 11, ante, p. 50, speaks of a river ‘Osoli’ the course of which was straightened and confined. This is probably a mistake for ‘Oseri’ or ‘Osari,’ names applying to one of the small streams close to Pisa in the direction of the quarries. Targioni Tozzetti in his _Viaggi in Toscana_ has a long discussion on this river, the Auser of the ancients, for which he gives the modern equivalents ‘Oseri,’ or ‘Osoli’ (the latter probably derived from this passage in Vasari). There is a ‘Fossa dell’ Oseretto’ to the west of the city. These straightened watercourses facilitated the transport of the stone in barges.
Continuing southwards along the coast we come to some marble quarries mentioned by Vasari on the promontory of Piombino, opposite the island of Elba. The locality Vasari names is Campiglia (§ 10, ante, p. 50) but the whole of Monte Calvi above that town is marble-bearing, and the products were said to be as good in quality as those of the Carrara district (Torelli, l.c., p. xc). Vasari says that the Campiglia marbles are excellent for building purposes, and Repetti asserts that in the fifteenth century, for the cupola of S. Maria del Fiore, more marble was used from this region than from Carrara itself. The ancient reputation of the district is not however now maintained.
Hitherto all the marbles used for building purposes that Vasari has mentioned have been white or variegated, but everyone who has visited the Tuscan cities knows that the decorative effect of the buildings depends on the juxtaposition of bands of white and of black, or at any rate, dark marble, with occasional bands of red. The dark marbles come chiefly from the neighbourhood of Prato, and this introduces us to a group of inland quarries within a few miles of Florence to the north and also to the south and east. Vasari does not say much about this dark stone, which was however of the utmost importance in Tuscan architecture. It is commonly called Prato Serpentine, or ‘Verde di Prato,’ and the quarries at Monte Ferrato, by Figline, three miles north of Prato, produce it of the finest quality. The Figline quarries are reported on by Professor Bonney in a paper on ‘Ligurian and Tuscan Serpentines’ in the _Geological Magazine_ for 1879. He has kindly lent us the specimen from the quarry figured as E on the Frontispiece. This stone is of a deep green colour, tending sometimes towards a purple or puce tint. Stone of much the same character is found, as Vasari states, near the Impruneta, six or seven miles east of Florence. It is this Prato Serpentine that has been so largely used from the twelfth century to the fifteenth in Tuscany for alternating with the white marbles in the incrustation of façades. There are deposits of the same stone in the Pisan mountains. The same stone was sometimes used for decorative stone work in connection with sepulchral monuments. According to Vasari however, ante, p. 42 f., it was the ‘paragone’ or dark limestone of Prato that was chiefly employed for this purpose.
If Vasari’s information about this important stone, and his interest in it, seem scanty, it must be borne in mind that it was a mediaeval material rather than a Renaissance one. We find it on the churches and bell towers and baptistries of the twelfth and following centuries, but not on the palaces of the fifteenth and sixteenth. Hence the stone was not so interesting in Vasari’s eyes as it is in ours.
Finally, the red stone seen in bands on the Duomo and the Campanile at Florence, that Vasari calls ‘marmo rosso’ (ante, p. 43), is not fully crystalline and is rather a limestone than a marble. It is deep red when quarried, but on the buildings has bleached to a pinky hue from exposure to the air. It is apt to scale, but this is partly due to its not being laid on its proper bed. The specimens F F on the coloured plate show the smoothed external surface bleached light by exposure. We are informed by Signor Cellerini, the experienced _capomaestro_ of the Opera del Duomo at Florence, that in old time this stone was quarried at Monsummano, at the northern extremity of the Monte Albano not far from Pistoja. A more modern source of supply is the Tuscan Maremma, where the stone, called ‘Porta Santa,’ is quarried between Pisa and Grosseto, near Gavorrano. From this place the stone has been brought for recent use on the new façade of the Duomo at Florence.
Other Tuscan marbles, such as those of Siena, that are not referred to by Vasari, are not noticed in this place.
THE ROUND TEMPLE ON THE PIAZZA S. LUIGI DEI FRANCESI, AND ‘MAESTRO GIAN.’
[See § 12, _Of Travertine_, ante, p. 51 f.]
It is surprising that practically nothing appears to be known, either about the French sculptor mentioned here, ‘Maestro Gian’ (or Jean), or about the French wood carver of the same name called by Vasari ‘Maestro Janni,’ who is referred to at the close of the ‘Introduction’ to Sculpture, postea, p. 174. Equally strange is it that their works, which Vasari describes in terms of high praise, and which are in public view in Rome and in Florence, do not seem to have attracted attention among students either of French art or of Italian. The standard older book on French artists abroad, Dussieux, _Les Artistes Français à l’Étranger_, Paris, 1856, takes no note of either of them, nor are they referred to in Bérard’s _Dictionnaire Biographique des Artistes Français du XII au XVII Siècle_, Paris, 1872. In the more recent Italian work however by A. Bertolotti, _Artisti Francesi in Roma nei Secoli XV, XVI, e XVII_, Mantova, 1886, there is a mention on p. 220 of ‘un Giovanni Chavenier, che forse disegno quel tempio tondo, attribuito dal Vasari all’ architetto Jean,’ and on p. 24 it is said that ‘Giovanni Chiavier, o Chavenier, di Rouen lavorò pel Governo pontificio e morì a Roma nel 1527.’ Bertolotti unfortunately gives no references to his authorities, while the work of Müntz, _Les Arts à la Cour des Papes_ breaks off before the sixteenth century, and gives no help.
LIST OF TUSCAN MARBLE QUARRIES WITH THEIR PRODUCTS, AS FAR AS THESE ARE MENTIONED BY VASARI.
[§§. 5–11 and §§ 97–99.]
The reference to pages is to the present volume, the capital letters refer to the coloured drawing of the stones on the Frontispiece. Names in square brackets do not actually occur in Vasari.
DISTRICT. CHIEF PLACE. QUARRIES. PRODUCTS.
[Apuan Alps] Carrara Carrara in Breccias (p. 37 f.) general (C.D.)
Monti di Luni [Bardigli] (p. 45) (K.)
Garfagnana Paragone (p. 42) (P.)
White Statuary (p. 45)
Black „
‘Saligni’ „
‘Campanini’ „
Mischiati „
Cippollino (pp. 36, 49) (H.)
Best Statuary „ Polvaccio Marble in (p. 46) largest blocks
„ Pietrasanta [Monte Columns for S. (p. 46) Altissimo, Lorenzo
Alla ‘Campanini,’ Seravezza Cappella, ‘Saligni,’ (p. 50) etc.] coarse marbles
Statuary Marble (p. 261) Stazzema (not now (C.D.) obtained)
Mischi (Breccias)
Fine White [Monti Pisani] Pisa Monte S. Marble, used on (p. 50) Giuliano Duomo & Campo-Santo
[Tuscan Gavorrano [Caldana di [Red Limestone] Maremma] Ravi]
[Promontory Coarse Marbles, opposite [Piombino] Campiglia suited for (p. 50) Elba] building
Red Marble (p. 43) [Monte Albano] [Pistoja] [Monsummano] (limestone) on (F.) Duomo, Florence
Neighbourhood [Monte Marmo Nero [Verde (p. 43) of Florence, Prato Ferrato, di Prato] on (E.) Figline] Duomo, Florence
North „ „ „ „
3 m. N. of Paragone (p. 42) Prato (limestone) for (P.) monuments
East Impruneta
7 m. E. of Breccias (p. 37) Florence
Monte Rantoli between S. Giusto or South valleys of [Monte Breccias (p. 37) Ema and Martiri] Greve
In the course of our inquiries we communicated with the Director of the Biblioteca Vittorio Emmanuele at Rome, Commendatore Conte Gnoli, who kindly gave attention to the subject, and contributed to the _Giornale d’ Italia_ of Dec. 24, 1906, an interesting article, in which, though he could give no account of Maestro Gian, he described fully the extant works of which Vasari writes, and made some pertinent suggestions as to the ‘round temple.’ He thinks it unlikely that the building of a circular church from the foundations was contemplated by the French, and suggests that they were utilizing the foundations of a round chamber belonging to the Thermae of Nero which were in that neighbourhood, so that the ‘round temple’ would have been like the present S. Bernardo in the Thermae of Diocletian. M. Marcel Reymond has suggested that it was the sack of Rome in 1527 that led to the abandonment of the project—for the date of the undertaking can be fixed in the reign of François I of France, who came to the throne in 1515, from the fact that his cognizance, the salamander, occurs in the sculpture prepared for its embellishment. If the artist be really Bertolotti’s ‘Chavenier,’ as he died in 1527, this fact would also explain the abandonment.
The sculptures in question are in part incrusted in the façade of the present church of S. Luigi (see ante, p. 52) and the fact that some of them are carved on curved surfaces shows at once that they were prepared for a building of cylindrical form. There are two large salamanders in round frames of which one is shown on Plate VI, and two panels higher up in the façade with the curious device of an eagle with the head of a woman and outspread wings from which depend by ribbons on each side small medallions. There are also some lions’ heads. The most curious piece of all is built into the wall of the Palazzo Madama close beside the church, and this contains the various devices that Vasari calls ‘astrological globes’ ‘open books showing the leaves,’ ‘trophies,’ etc. The panel is small and placed too high to be properly seen, but Sig. Gnoli, by the aid of the architect of the palace, was able to give a description of them in the article above mentioned. The work is very minute and elaborate, and there are inscriptions from which it appears that the devices signify that the seven liberal arts are nourished by the lilies of France. The sculpture is not only elaborate in design but most artistic as well as delicate in execution. The ‘Salamander’ it will be seen is excellent work. M. Marcel Reymond points out that at the early part of the sixteenth century the Italians were accustomed to use marble for decorative carvings, and that this French artist, whoever he was, having been accustomed to carve the limestones of his native country, took naturally to the manipulation of travertine, and that his success with the material attracted the attention and admiration of the Romans which Vasari’s commendations reflect. It has been noticed above that Michelangelo’s frieze in the cortile of the Palazzo Farnese was not carved but modelled in stucco. See ante, p. 53.
On the subject of the mysterious artist a word will be said in connection with the later passage indicated at the beginning of this Note. See postea, p. 175.
RUSTICATED MASONRY.
[See § 20, _Rusticated Masonry and the Tuscan Order_, ante, p. 65.]
In masonry of this kind the sides of the stones, where they come into contact with each other, are dressed smooth, but the face of each stone is left to project beyond the plane of the wall. The projections may be rough and irregular, in which case the appearance is that of natural stones, and a rugged rock-like aspect is given to the wall-face. The projections may however be wrought into bosses of regular form, or into the diamonds and facets of which Vasari goes on to speak, and of which a notable example is the so-called ‘Palazzo de’ Diamanti’ at Ferrara.
This method of treating stones, at least when they are left rough and irregular, saves time and labour, and hence it has been in use among many ancient peoples, but almost always for substructures and parts not meant to be seen. The Romans made a more extensive employment of it, and we find it not only on sustaining walls, such as those of the Hadrianic platform of the Olympeion at Athens, but on monumental wall-faces, as on the enclosing wall of the Forum of Augustus near the Arco dei Pantani at Rome, one of the finest extant specimens of Roman masonry but still utilitarian in character. The deliberate use of rustication, as an element of artistic effect, on the façade of a public building, is another matter, and it is doubtful if any instance of this occurs before the Italian Renaissance. There is a piece of Roman rusticated masonry behind the ancient theatre at Fiesole, the classical Faesolae, and Professor Durm thought at one time that the Florentine builders might have derived from this their idea of using the device as a means of expression in stonework. It may be questioned however whether this was visible at all in the fifteenth century, and it is much more likely that Renaissance rustication was a natural development from the treatment of the wall in many mediaeval Tuscan buildings, in which the surface of the stones is left to project in an irregular undesigned fashion. The Palazzo Vecchio and the Gothic Palazzo Alessandri at Florence are examples. In any case, in the hands of the architects of the Renaissance rustication became an important element in the architectural style of the period, and is one of the special contributions of this style to architecture at large.
[Illustration:
PLATE VI
SALAMANDER CARVED IN TRAVERTINE
On the façade of S. Luigi dei Francesi, Rome, by a French artist, ‘Maestro Gian’ ]
Rustication has two artistic advantages. In the first place, it emphasizes the separate stones in an assemblage, and when these are of great size and boldly hewn, as at the Pitti Palace at Florence, the work gains in dignity through this individualizing of the distinct units of the structure. The bossed surface of some of the blocks at the Pitti stands out as much as three feet from the wall, and one of the stones is twenty eight feet in length. In the second place, this rustic treatment gives a look of rugged strength that is very effective, especially on the lower stages of monumental buildings, where indeed the treatment is most in place. The façade of Michelozzo’s Riccardi Palace, which Vasari refers to under its older name the ‘Casa Medici’ is epoch-making in its fine handling of rustication in degrees according to the stages of the elevation.
It needs hardly to be said that the elaborately cut facets which Vasari finds so beautiful, and of which we have seen an example in Fig. 4, ante, p. 69, are too artificial to be reckoned in good architectural style. It was a common practice, when the stones themselves were not all of the same size, to cut these diamonds and other geometrical forms in independence of the joints of the masonry, so that a facet might be half on one stone and half on another. As this ignores the individuality of the blocks, which the simpler rustication so effectually emphasizes, it is by no means to be commended. Vasari’s last sentences in § 20, about this treatment of stonework in general, are excellent. The rustication on the Fortezza, shown in Fig. 4 is sincere, in that the jointing corresponds with the design.
VASARI’S OPINION ON MEDIAEVAL ARCHITECTURE.
[See § 28, _German Work (the Gothic Style)_, ante, p. 83.]
Vasari’s tirade against the iniquities of the mediaeval mason is of historical interest as reflecting the ideas of his age, but need not now be taken seriously. The reason why he writes of it as ‘German’ work is to be found in the close intercourse during the whole mediaeval period between Germany and Italy, that were nominally under the one imperial sceptre, and were only separated by the Brenner. ‘Tedesco’ stood to the mind of the Italian for everything north of the Alps, and though the pointed style in architecture was of French origin it appears to have found its way into Italy through the Tyrol. One of the first churches in this style in Italy, S. Francesco at Assisi, was designed by a German master from Meran. But not only does Vasari call the manner he detests ‘Tedesco,’ he expressly, in this passage and elsewhere, ascribes it to the Goths, who, after ruining the ancient buildings and killing off the classically trained architects, had set to work to build with pointed arches. It is clear from this phrase, as well as from the description he gives of the little niches and pinnacles and leaves and the extravagant height of doors, that he had in his mind the pointed style, that dates from about the middle of the twelfth century. The Goths had then passed out of existence for some six hundred years and Vasari’s chronology is hopelessly at fault. The name ‘Gothic’ however, which he was the first to apply in this sense, has adhered to the style ever since, and in spite of efforts which have been made to supplant it, will probably remain always in use, though no one will now or in the future make the mistake of connecting it ethnologically with the historical Goths of the fifth and sixth centuries.
The question who was actually the first to apply the term ‘Gothic’ in this sense has been a subject of controversy. Some have attributed the invention of the term to Raphael, or the author of the Report on the condition of Roman monuments which passes under his name; while others have claimed the dubious honour for Cesare Cesariano, the translator and commentator of Vitruvius. Neither of these writers however uses the word in the sense referred to. Raphael it is true writes of a ‘Gothic’ style in architecture which succeeded to the classic Roman, but he makes it, quite correctly, belong to the actual era of the Gothic conquest of Italy in the fifth century and to the succeeding hundred years. The later mediaeval architecture Raphael terms ‘architectura Tedesca,’ and when he writes of this he seems to have in his view what we should rather call Lombard Romanesque, for he blames in it the ‘strange animals and figures, and foliage out of all reason.’ In other words Raphael, or the author of the Report, distinctly does _not_ commit the historical enormity of dragging the word ‘Gothic’ six centuries out of its proper location and use.
With regard to Cesare Cesariano, this personage was born in 1483 and studied architecture under Bramante. He was of good repute, Vasari tell us, (_Opere_, IV, 149) as a geometrician and architect, and at one time he was employed as director of the works on the cathedral of Milan, the interior of which he completed in its present form. In 1521 there was published at Como, at the charges of certain scholars and notables of Milan and Como, an edition of Vitruvius headed ‘Di Lucio Vitruvio Pollione a Caesare Augusto De Architectura Incomenza Il Primo Libro. Translato In Vulgare Sermone Commentato Et Affigurato Da Caesare Caesariano Citadino Mediolanense Professore Di Architectura Et C^a.’ Cesariano’s commentary is a fearsome work of appalling verbosity, but there is nothing in it about the Goths being the originators of the pointed style. He mentions the Goths on fol. cviii, b, but not in connection with architecture, whereas when he does refer to late mediaeval building he calls it not Gothic but German. On fol. xiii b and on the succeeding pages he gives some interesting plans and drawings of the cathedral of Milan, important in connection with the theory of the use in Gothic design of the equilateral triangle, but distinctly notes it as constructed by ‘Germanici architecti,’ ‘Germanico more,’ and ‘secundum Germanicam symmetriam’; while on fol. cx b he again says that the building was in the hands of a German architect. (See Mothes, _Baukunst des Mittelalters in Italien_, Jena, 1884, p. 502 ff.) It is clear therefore that Cesare Cesariano has nothing to do with the use of ‘Gothic’ as an architectural term, and his name need not be mentioned in this connection.
Filarete’s _Trattato dell’ Architettura_, dating about 1464, is not the source of the usage, and as far as can be seen at present the credit, if it be such, of the invention of the term ‘Gothic’ rests with Vasari.
EGG-SHELL MOSAIC.
[See § 33, _Pictorial Mosaics for Walls, etc._, ante, p. 93.]
This reference on the part of Vasari to ‘musaico di gusci d’ uovo,’ ‘mosaic of egg-shells,’ is puzzling. In his Life of Gaddo Gaddi (_Opere_, I, 348) he is more explicit, and states there ‘Dopo ciò, ritornò Gaddo a Firenze, con animo di riposarsi: perchè, datosi a fare piccole tavolette di musaico, ne condusse alcune di guscia d’ uova con diligenza e pacienza incredibile; come si può, fra le altre, vedere in alcune che ancor oggi sono nel tempio di San Giovanni di Firenze.’
The Lemonnier editors of Vasari added a note to this passage to the effect that one of these small plaques, representing a Christ with an open book in His left hand, was preserved when they wrote in the Uffizi, and that the mosaic was ‘composed of very minute pieces of egg-shell united together with a diligence and a patience truly incredible.’ This piece is now in the Chapel in the Bargello and Dr Giovanni Poggi has had the kindness to examine it minutely. He reports that there is no sign of the use of egg-shell in it, but that it is a finely executed mosaic of small pieces of coloured materials of a hard substance, in all respects similar to the portable Byzantine mosaics of which there are two notable specimens in the Opera del Duomo at Florence (Gori, _Thes. Vet. Diptychorum_, III, 320 f.). Eugène Müntz noticed various examples of this kind of work in an article in the _Bulletin Monumental_, 1886, and one of them, an ‘Annunciation’ in the Victoria and Albert Museum, is a typical piece. It is composed of tesserae of minute size of different coloured marbles, lapis lazuli, etc., on a ground of gold formed of little cubes of the metal, all bedded in wax or similar yielding substance. There is no sign of the use of egg-shell, and indeed the idea of a mosaic of pieces of egg-shell seems absurd, because there is no variety of colour, and therefore no possibility of mosaic effect without painting each piece some special hue.
Were it only Vasari who mentioned this supposed egg-shell mosaic the matter might be passed over, but as a fact one of the chapters of Cennino Cennini’s _Trattato_ is devoted to this very subject. He there describes, c. 172, what he calls a ‘mosaic’ of small cubes of the pith of feathers and of egg-shells, but the technique as he explains it is not mosaic, properly so-called, but rather an imitation of mosaic by means of painting on a roughened ground giving something of the effect of a ground laid with tesserae. Egg-shells are apparently crushed down on the surface so as to give it a sort of crackled appearance, and varieties of colour are added by the paint brush. Vasari mentions in his life of Agnolo Gaddi, _Opere_, I, 643 f., that he had seen a MS. of Cennino’s treatise, and it is possible that he remembered the heading ‘musaico di gusci d’ uovo’ and, with his instinct for giving a personal interest to everything, attributed to one of his early Florentines, Gaddo Gaddi, the use of the supposed technique. We have not been able to hear of any extant piece of work corresponding to Cennino’s description, though we have to thank several expert authorities for kindly interesting themselves in the matter. Cennino’s notice is appended in the original. It does not occur in the Tambroni text.
Description of the technique in Cennino Cennini, _Il Libro dell’ Arte_, ed. Milanesi, Firenze, 1859, cap. clxxii.
‘Come si Lavora in Opera Musaica per adornamento di Reliquie; e del Musaico di Bucciuoli di penne, e di Gusci d’ Uovo.
* * * * *
... A questa opra medesima, e molto fine, buccioli di penne tagliati molto minuti sì come panico e tinti sì come detto ho. Ancora puoi lavorare del detto musaico in questo modo. Togli le tue guscia d’ uovo ben peste pur bianche, e in sulla figura disegnata campeggia, riempi e lavora sì come fussi coloriti: e poi quando hai campeggiata la tua figura coi colori propii da cassetta, e temperati con un poco di chiara d’ uovo, va’ colorendo la figura di parte in parte, sì come facessi in su lo ’ngessato propio, pur d’ acquerelle di colori; e poi quando è secco, vernica sì come vernici l’altre cose in tavola. Per campeggiare le dette figure, sì come fai in muro, a te conviene pigliare questo partito, di toglier fogliette dorate, o arientate, o oro grosso battuto o ariento grosso battuto: taglialo minutissimo, e colle dette mollette va’ campeggiando a modo che campeggi i tuoi gusci pesti, dove il campo richiede oro. Ancora, campeggiare di gusci bianchi il campo; bagnare di chiara d’ uovo battuta, di quella che metti il tuo oro in sul vetro; bagna della medesima; metti il tuo oro come trae il campo; lascia asciugare, e brunisci con bambagia. E questo basti alla detta opera musaica, o vuoi greca.’
IDEAL ARCHITECTURE; AN IDEAL PALACE.
[See § 35, _An Ideal Palace_, ante, p. 96.]
The construction—in words—of an imaginary mansion of the type suited to the ideas of the Renaissance was a favourite exercise among both professional and amateur writers, and Vasari might have made a greater effort than he has done to rise to the height of his subject. The theme had some significance. The intent of those who dealt with it was to provide the man of the Renaissance with a fit setting for his life, and the spacious and lordly palace corresponded to the amplitude of the personality developed by the humanistic culture of the age. The representative man of the Renaissance may have missed certain of the higher ethical qualities, but he was many-sided, in mind and person a finely developed creature, self-reliant, instinct with vigour and set on mastery. Such a being demanded space and opulence with an air of greatness in his habitation, and fitly to house him was a task calling forth all the powers of the architects of the period. An imposing façade with heraldic achievements should proclaim his worth, wide gateways and roomy courts and loggie give an impression of lordly ease, broad staircases and ample halls suggest the coming and going of companies of guests. He would need a garden, where marble seats in ilex shades or in grottoes beside cool fountains should await him in hours when reflection or reading, music or conversation, called him awhile from keen conflict of wit or policy with his peers in the world outside. He would exact moreover that over all the place Art should breathe a spell to soothe the senses and to flatter pride; art sumptuous in materials, accomplished in technique, pagan in form and spirit, should people the galleries with sculptured shapes, cover walls and roof with graceful imagery, and set here and there on cabinet or console some jewel of carved ivory or gilded wood or chiselled bronze.
All the great architects of the Renaissance were at work on these palaces first at Florence and then in every rich Italian town, but the actual achievement that circumstances allowed fell far short of the ideal perfection, the effort after which was the best spiritual product of the Renaissance. Hence it became the fashion to draw out visionary schemes of princely dwellings, and even of whole city quarters for the setting of these, and ideal architecture furnishes matter for a chapter in the art history of the times. Filarete’s _Trattato dell’ Architettura_ is full of matter of the kind. In his eighth Book he describes a palace for a prince, in Book eleven an ideal mansion for a nobleman; and his proposed arrangements are all on a grandiose scale. Ammanati, who built the Ponte della Trinità at Florence, left a whole collection of drawings for a ‘Città Ideale,’ and Leonardo da Vinci’s codices are fertile in similar suggestions. In France, where this phase of the artistic activity of the Renaissance was as much in evidence as in Italy, the actual palaces of king or noble were far outdone in splendour and in symmetry by the schemes of Palissy or De l’Orme, of which Baron de Geymüller has given an interesting notice in his _Baukunst der Renaissance in Frankreich_, published in the _Handbuch der Architectur_.
Nor was it only the professed artists who occupied themselves in this fashion. It was a literary exercise to scheme out in vague and general outlines the ideal habitation for prince or for community, and Rabelais’ Abbey of Theleme, with its nine thousand three hundred and thirty two rooms, its libraries, theatres, and recreation halls, is the most famous example of its kind. In our own literature too there must not be forgotten Francis Bacon’s Essay on Building, in which he draws out the general configuration of what he calls a ‘perfect palace,’ where the façade is in two wings ‘uniform without, though severally partitioned within,’ and these are to be ‘on both sides of a great and stately tower, in the midst of the front; that as it were joineth them together on either hand.’ Symmetry is of course the characteristic of all these ideal structures, as it was long ago of the visionary temple described by Ezechiel, and Vasari’s palace is no exception to the rule. Vasari’s description does not convey a very clear idea of what he conceived the ideal palace would be, and he might have done better for the theme had he not hampered himself at the outset with the otiose comparison of the house to a human body. This he may have derived from Filarete, who also employs the conceit.
OF SCULPTURE
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