NOTES ON ‘INTRODUCTION’ TO ARCHITECTURE
PORPHYRY AND PORPHYRY QUARRIES.
[See § 2, Of Porphyry, ante, p. [26].]
Porphyry, which is mineralogically described as consisting of crystals of plagioclase felspar in a purple felspathic paste, is a very hard stone of beautiful colour susceptible of a high polish. ‘No material,’ it has been said, ‘can approach it, either in colour, fineness of grain, hardness or toughness. When used alone its colour is always grand; and in combination with any other coloured material, although displaying its nature conspicuously, it is always harmonious’ (Transactions, Royal Institute of British Architects, 1887, p. 48). Though obtained, as Vasari knew, from Egypt, it was not known to the dynastic Egyptians, but was exploited with avidity by the Romans of the later imperial period. The earliest mention of it seems to be in Pliny, Hist. Nat., XXXVI, 11, under the name ‘porphyrites’ and statues in the material were according to this author sent for the first time to Rome from Egypt in the reign of Claudius. The new material was however not approved of, and for some time was by no means in fashion. It was not indeed till the age of the Antonines that as Helbig remarks ‘the preference for costly and rare varieties of stone, without reference to their adaptability for sculpture, began to spread.’ After this epoch, the taste for porphyry and other such strongly marked or else intractable materials grew till it became a passion, and the Byzantine emperors carried on the tradition of its use inherited by them from the later days of paganism. The material was quarried in the mountains known as Djebel Duchan near the coast of the Red Sea, almost opposite the southern point of the peninsula of Sinai, and the Romans carried the blocks a distance of nearly 100 miles to Koptos on the Nile whence they were transported down stream to Alexandria, where Mr Brindley thinks there would be reserve dépôts where lapidaries and artists resided, a source of supply for the large quantities used by Constantine. The same authority estimates that there must be about 300 monolith porphyry pillars still extant in Europe, the finest being the eight great columns under the side apses in S. Sophia, Constantinople. The most important of all porphyry monuments is the column, 100 feet high, which Constantine erected at Constantinople where it still stands though somewhat mutilated and damaged by fire. It consisted in nine cylindrical drums each 11 feet long and 11 feet in diameter.
The quarries, as Vasari later on remarks, were in his time not known, and seem never to have been worked since the time of the Romans. The site of them was visited by Sir Gardner Wilkinson in 1823, and they were rediscovered by Mr Brindley in 1887. If they are again to be worked, the material will now be transferred to the Red Sea coast, distant only about 20 miles. Mr Brindley’s account of his expedition, with notes on the material, is contained in the Transactions of the Royal Institute of British Architects for 1888.
THE SASSI, DELLA VALLE, AND OTHER COLLECTIONS OF ANTIQUES OF THE EARLY PART OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
[See §§ 2, 32, ante, pp. [28], [93].]
In chapters I and VI of the ‘Introduction’ to Architecture Vasari refers to the ‘casa di Egizio e di Fabio Sasso’ and the ‘casa di messer Egidio e Fabio Sasso’ ‘in Parione.’ Parione is that one of the 14 wards or ‘rioni’ of Rome that lies to the south of the Piazza Navona, and according to Gregorovius (Geschichte der Stadt Rom im Mittelalter, Stutt., 1886, etc., III, 537) the name is connected with the Latin ‘parietes,’ ‘walls,’ and was derived from the ruins of the Theatre of Pompeius, that bulked largely within its borders. There is now a ‘Via Parione’ to the west of the Piazza Navona, but older plans of near Vasari’s time show that the name was then applied to the more important thoroughfare south of the piazza, which is now called ‘Via del Governo Vecchio.’ The truth is that the present Via Parione should be called, as marked on older maps, ‘Via di S. Tommaso in Parione,’ beside which church it runs, and should not have been allowed to usurp the old historical name.
Among the families noted by Gregorovius as inhabiting this region were the Sassi, who, he says (VII, 708), possessed there ‘a great palace with many antiques.’ A notice of the Sassi, in the Archivio della R. Società Romana di Storia Patria, Roma, vol. XX, p. 479, tells us that they were among the most illustrious families of the ‘rione.’ In 1157 one Giovanni Sassi was a senator of Rome, and the family was especially flourishing in the fifteenth century, but later on declined. Branches of the Sassi stock still exist. When Vasari was in Rome in the service of the Cardinal Ippolito de’ Medici, about 1530, one branch at any rate of the family was represented by a certain Fabio Sasso and his brother, whom Vasari calls ‘Egidius’ but who appears in a document quoted by Lanciani (Storia degli Scavi di Roma, Roma, 1902, I, 177) as ‘Decidius,’ who possessed the family palace with its antiques, situated a little west of S. Tommaso in Parione. When Michaelis wrote the paper presently to be noticed, the exact situation of the palace was not identified, but the Conte Gnoli, the learned and courteous director of the Biblioteca Vittorio Emanuele, has pointed out the remains of the Sassi habitation at No. 48 in the present Via del Governo Vecchio, where an early Renaissance doorway bears above it the cognizance of the family, and below on one jamb the syllable ‘Dom’ and on the other ‘Sax’ (Domus Saxorum). The house in general, which is claimed by legend as the residence of Raphael’s Fornarina, has been reconstructed. The plan, Fig. 8, is taken from a large map of Rome dating 1748 and shows this particularly interesting portion of the city as it was before recent changes. The line of the present Corso Vittorio Emanuele is shown by dotted strokes.
By the middle of the sixteenth century the family fortunes had declined, and in his will made in 1556 Fabio records that he had let all his three houses in Parione. This may account for the fact that no Palazzo Sassi occurs in the lists of Roman palaces of the seventeenth century. Furthermore, in 1546 the two brothers effected a sale of their antiques to the Duke Ottavio Farnese, who transferred them to the then newly erected Farnese palace. See text of Vasari, ante p. [28], and Lanciani, l.c.
When Vasari first knew the Sassi collection it was one of the best in Rome, and Michaelis (Jahrbuch d. deutschen Archeologischen Instituts, 1891, p. 170) quotes two writers of the early part of the century who praise it. Moreover there exists a contemporary drawing of the antiques and the court in which they were kept, that Michaelis (l.c.) has published. The early notices just referred to, and the notes of Aldovrandi (Mauro, Le Antichità della Città di Roma, Venet. 1556, p. 147) who saw the works in the Farnese collection in 1550, give prominence to the two pieces that are specially mentioned by Vasari. The ‘figura a sedere di braccia tre e mezzo’ in porphyry (ante, p. [28]) is described by Aldovrandi (p. 147) as ‘un bellissimo simulacro di una Roma trionfante assisa,’ partly in porphyry and partly in bronze, and as having been formerly in the house of Messer Fabio Sasso. The statue has passed with the Farnese antiques to Naples, where it was numbered when Michaelis wrote, 212 b. It is now recognized as not a ‘Rome’ but a seated Apollo fully draped, and is numbered 6281.
The other one of the Sassi antiques mentioned by Vasari is referred to in the text § 7, ante, p. [42], as ‘una figura in Parione d’ uno ermafrodito’ in the stone called ‘paragone’ or ‘touchstone.’ This is also praised by the earlier writers, and is seen in the drawing which Michaelis has published. Aldovrandi calls it (p. 152) ‘uno Hermafrodito di paragone, maggiore del naturale’ and notes its provenance. It is the ‘Apollo’ at Naples, No. 6262, and Michaelis gives the material as basalt. It is noticed by Winckelmann as an Apollo.
The della Valle collection was more important than that of the Sassi, and was the finest of all those that were being formed in the early part of the sixteenth century. There is a full notice of it by Michaelis in the Jahrbuch, 1891, p. 218 f., who prints the inventory drawn up at the time of the sale of the collection in 1584 to Cardinal Ferdinando de’ Medici, by whom the antiques were removed to the Villa Medici, whence many of them, including most probably the ‘Medici Venus,’ found their way to Florence.
Fig. 8.—Portion of a Plan of Rome, from Nolli, Nuova Pianta di Roma, 1748.
607, Palazzo Pamphili Doria.
610, Torre Millina.
615, S. Tommaso in Parione.
620, Piazza Pasquino.
625, Palazzo Massimi.
653, Via di Parione.
783, Piazza della Valle.
794, Palazzo Capranica.
795, Teatro della Valle.
806, Palazzo Medici, or, Madama.
808, S. Luigi dei Francesi.
The dotted portion marks the line of the recent Corso Vittorio Emanuele. The site of the Sassi Palace, near S. Tommaso, is marked by a cross.
The della Valle were a family of high importance, counting many branches and numerous houses in that part of Rome, south-east of the Piazza Navona, where church and piazza and palace and theatre still keep alive their name. The most important member of the family was Cardinal Andrea della Valle, one of Leo X’s creations of 1517. Vasari introduced him into the fresco in the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence representing Leo X with his Cardinals, that is given as a favourable specimen of Giorgio’s painting on Plate I. His is the uppermost figure on the extreme right of the picture. Referring to this fresco, Vasari describes him in his third ‘Ragionamento’ (Opere, VIII, 158) as ‘quel cardinale della Valle, che fece in Roma quello antiquario, e che fu il primo che mettessi insieme le cose antiche, e le faceva restaurare.’ About the last clause a word will be said later on.
Lanciani (l.c., I, 123) draws attention to the vast estates, urban and suburban, possessed by these wealthy proprietors, and the opportunities thus afforded of obtaining antique treasures for the mere trouble of digging for them. Nobles who had official charge of the streets and open places could turn the opportunities of their position to account for the same purpose, and in the first half of the century lovers of ancient art did not buy antiques but simply dug for them. Cardinal Andrea, Lanciani says, ‘era appassionato scavatore,’ and he made excavations in the Thermae of Agrippa near which his palace lay, and in the vineyards of the Lateran. Several writers of the early part of the century celebrate this collection. One (Fichard, in Frankfurtisches Archiv, Frankfurt, 1815, III, 68) writes, in 1536, that the Cardinal’s house was the real treasury of Roman antiquity, and he singles out for notice the same porphyry wolf about which Vasari writes, ante, p. [28]. There were so many statues there, he says, that you would have thought everything ever found in Rome had been brought together to that one place! The whole collections of the family however were divided among three or four palaces, but Andrea had the lion’s share. He built a new palace for his treasures early in the century and displayed the best pieces in a court. There were to be seen a Venus, that was probably the Medicean, and the Florentine Ganymede, both now in the Uffizi, Nos. 548 and 115, and close to these above a window the porphyry wolf of which we hear from Vasari. The present location of this piece is not known, but Michaelis suggests it might be looked for at the Villa Medici or at Florence. Vasari also mentions ‘two prisoners bound,’ also of porphyry, as being in the garden of the palace (ante, p. [29]). These are mentioned in the inventory referred to above (Jahrbuch, 229) as ‘two barbarians, draped, of porphyry, 11 palms high.’ They were transported from the Villa Medici at Rome to Florence in 1790, and are now very familiar to visitors in Florence, for they stand just within the Boboli Gardens, one on each side of the main walk that leads up towards the Amphitheatre. They are about eight feet high, of porphyry, with heads and hands of white marble. Two similar figures are to be seen in the Louvre, under the staircase at the top of which is the Niké from Samothrace.
Della Valle was not content with his fine house and museum, but desired another which he began to build about 1520. The work was directed by Lorenzo Lotti (Lorenzetto) a pupil and assistant of Raphael, and Vasari gives us an account of it in his life of the former artist (Opere, IV, 579). In connection with this we have from Vasari an interesting notice of the beginning of the practice of ‘restoring’ antiques, which from this period onwards was an established custom. When Lorenzetto, he tells us, was building for the Cardinal Andrea della Valle the upper garden of his palace, situated where is now the Teatro della Valle (see Fig. 8), he arranged niches and other places for the Cardinal’s antiques. ‘These were imperfect, some wanting a head and others arms, while others again were legless, and all were in some way mutilated. Nevertheless the artist managed everything excellently well, for he got good sculptors to make again everything that was wanting, and this led to other lords doing the same thing, and having many antique fragments restored. This was done for example by Cardinals Cesis, Ferrara, and Farnese, and in a word by all Rome. And in truth these antiques, restored in this fashion, have a much more pleasing effect than those mutilated torsos, and limbs without a head, and such-like fragments.’ On the restoration of the Papal antiques see Note, postea, p. 116.
THE PORPHYRY TAZZA OF THE SALA ROTONDA OF THE VATICAN.
[See § 2, Of Porphyry, ante, p. [32].]
Ascanio Colonna, who was brother to the famous Vittoria Colonna the friend of Michelangelo, was one of the chief representatives of the imperial interests in Italy, in the stormy times of the first half of the sixteenth century. Charles V made him in 1520 Grand Constable of Naples. With Pope Paul III he had a bitter feud, and the Pope seized on his possessions. On the election in 1550 of Julius III, the new Pope, in order to please the Emperor, reinstated Ascanio, and it was on the occasion of this reconciliation that Colonna presented to the Pope the famous basin of porphyry of which Vasari writes. The ‘vineyard’ for which the Pope destined it was connected with the casino and villa outside the Porta del Popolo which bear the name of the Pope and where is now installed the Villa Papa Giulio Museum. The tazza in question is the superb bowl that occupies the centre of the Sala Rotonda in the Vatican Museum. It is said to have been found temp. Julius II, in the Thermae of Titus (Pistolesi, Il Vaticano Descritto, V, 206), and after remaining for a time at the papal villa it was conveyed by Clement XI to the Vatican and placed in the court of the Belvedere, now the Cortile Ottagono. Francesco de’ Ficorini (Le Vestigia e Rarità di Roma, Roma, 1744, bk. II, ch. 2, p. 15) says that in this court was the ‘gran conca di porfido,’ and another of white oriental granite, both found in the Thermae of Titus. When Clement XIV (1769–75) added the octagonal colonnade in the interior of the Cortile, the tazza was apparently no longer needed there, for soon afterwards Pius VI, who with Clement was the creator of the Museo Pio-Clementino, placed it in his newly constructed Sala Rotonda, where it remains. Pasquale Massi in his Indicazione antiquaria del Ponteficio Museo Pio-Clementino, 1792, p. 118, speaks of ‘una vastissima tazza di porfido di palmi 62 di circonferenza tutta massiccia (all of one piece), la quale si trovava già in Vaticano trasportatavi dalla Villa di Giulio III, fuori di Porta del Popolo, ed ora squisitamente risarcita.’ This restoration was completed in 1792 and was no doubt carried out by the same artists whom Pius VI employed for the repair of the porphyry sarcophagi noticed ante, p. [27]. In this way the work, which Vasari says in the text had to be left unfinished, was finally accomplished. Cancellieri (Lettera ... intorno la maravigliosa Tazza di Porfido, etc., Roma, 1822) makes the surprising statement that at one time the tazza had been mended with pieces of white granite!
Fig. 9.—Sketch of shape of the large porphyry Tazza in the Sala Rotonda of the Vatican.
The tazza is the largest existing piece of the kind and measures 14 ft. in diameter. It is shallow and has in the interior the usual projecting central boss. Independently of this boss the tazza has only one arris, or in Vasari’s words ‘canto vivo,’ at A in the rough sketch, Fig. 9. A smaller but more artistically wrought porphyry tazza, beautifully restored, and measuring 8 ft. 6 in. in diameter, is in the Pitti at Florence close to the entrance to the passage to the Uffizi. It was a gift from Clement VII to the Medici, and was brought from Rome (Villa Medici) to Florence in 1790, where it was repaired in the Tuscan manufactory of mosaics (Zobi, Notizie Storiche sull’ Origine e Progressi dei Lavori di Commesso in Pietre Dure, Firenze, 1853, p. 118). Both these pieces are superb works, and display the magnificent qualities of the red Egyptian porphyry to full advantage.
The original purpose of these great basins is not very clear. The ‘conche’ mentioned in the footnote to p. 27, ante, though now used as sarcophagi, were certainly in their origin baths, but the shallow tazza would be unsuitable for such a purpose, and moreover the central ornament would have almost precluded such a use. There seems no sign of a central opening through which a water pipe could have been introduced, so that the tazza might serve as the basin of a fountain. Perhaps their employment was simply ornamental.
FRANCESCO DEL TADDA, AND THE REVIVAL OF SCULPTURE IN PORPHYRY.
[See § 2, Of Porphyry, ante, p. [29].]
Vasari does not give a biography of this artist among his Lives, though he more than once refers to him in connection with other sculptors. There is on the other hand a notice of him and of other artists of his family in Baldinucci’s Notizie de’ Professori del Disegno, published 1681–1728. Baldinucci knew personally the son of Francesco, but was so poorly informed about Francesco’s early life that he makes two persons of him and describes his early career as if it were that of another Francesco del Tadda. (It is true that there was an earlier Francesco Ferrucci but he was not called ‘del Tadda’ and he died before 1500). The commentators on Vasari previous to the Milanesi edition seem to have been misled by Baldinucci, but in this edition the mistake is corrected, and a genealogical tree of the whole Ferrucci family is given in vol. IV, p. 487.
Francesco derived his name ‘del Tadda’ from his grandfather Taddeo Ferrucci, who belonged to a family of sculptors in Fiesole. In early life he worked with other sculptors under the orders of Clement VII at the completion of the chapel of Our Lady of Loretto, and afterwards assisted Michelangelo in his work in the Sacristy of S. Lorenzo at Florence. In the Life of Giovanni Agnolo Montorsoli Vasari praises him as ‘intagliatore excellente’ (Opere, VI, 638). The works in porphyry mentioned in Vasari’s text, ante, p. [32] f., will be noticed presently, but it may be noted here that del Tadda’s chief work in this material, executed after Vasari published his Lives, was the figure of ‘Justice’ which stands on the granite column in the Piazza di S. Trinità at Florence. The column, which is 36 ft. high, came from the Baths of Caracalla at Rome and was presented by Pius IV to Duke Cosimo I.
Among the letters of Vasari published in the eighth volume of the Milanesi edition is one dated December 18, 1561, to Duke Cosimo, giving the measurements of this column which was then lying at Rome awaiting its transport to Florence. The system of measurement is instructive and has been referred to ante, p. [66] (see Opere, VIII, 352). The column was taken to Florence, occupying a year on its journey, and was erected in 1565 on the Piazza S. Trinità where it now stands. Cellini (Scultura, ch. 6) says that it is of Elban granite, but it is more likely to be from Egypt.
Francesco del Tadda received the commission for a porphyry figure to surmount it, and the work is said to have taken him and his son eleven years; it is in five or six pieces and about 11 ft. 6 in. high. The statue was placed in position on June 9, 1581, and the drapery of bronze was adjusted to it on July 21 (Francesco Settimanni quoted by Zobi, page 105). The figure has been adversely criticized but is a fairly successful piece of work, considering the difficulties of its execution. Francesco del Tadda died in 1585 and was buried in the church of S. Girolamo at Fiesole, where his epitaph signalizes his unique position as a worker in porphyry ‘cum statuariam in Porphyretico lapide mult. ann. unicus exerceret,’ and bears his portrait by his own hand in relief in porphyry on a field of green Prato serpentine.
On the whole subject of work in porphyry, after the early Byzantine period when the late Roman imperial tradition was still in force, the following may be noted.
Vasari does not say that the art of working the stone was ever wholly lost, and mentions, ante, p. [29], the cutting of the stone for use in inlaid pavements, Cosmati-work, and the like, as may be seen in St. Mark’s, Venice; at Ravello, and in numberless Roman churches. He also describes the ‘scabbling’ of the stone by heavy hammers with steel points to reduce it to even surfaces both rounded and flat (ante, p. [31]). Fine examples of the use of the material in mediaeval days, for purposes other than statuesque, can be seen in the Cathedral of Palermo. There are there four noble sarcophagi, with canopies supported by monolithic shafts all in the same stone, dating from the thirteenth century. They contain the bodies of the Emperor Frederick II, who died in 1250, and of earlier members of his house, and show that at that time the artificers of southern Italy and Sicily could deal successfully on a large scale with this intractable material. Anton Springer, die Mittelalterliche Kunst in Palermo, Bonn, 1869, remarks in this connection, p. 29, that the Sicilians are to this day specially expert in the working of hard stones. Porphyry was also used on the original façade of S. Maria del Fiore at Florence that was demolished in 1588. Vasari might too have mentioned the porphyry sarcophagus completed in 1472 by Andrea del Verrocchio for the monument of Piero and Giovanni de’ Medici in S. Lorenzo at Florence. The Verrocchio sarcophagus is however composed only of flat slabs of porphyry, like those round the pulpit in St. Mark’s, Venice, whereas Vasari is drawing a distinction between this architectural use of the stone and its employment in figure sculpture, of which he makes Francesco del Tadda the first restorer.
In regard to this use of porphyry it must not be forgotten that in the Cabinet of Gems in the Uffizi there is a beautifully executed porphyry statuette, or rather group, of Venus with Cupid, about ten inches high, signed in Greek characters with the name of ‘Pietro Maria.’ This was Pier Maria da Pescia, noticed by Vasari in his life of Valerio Vicentino and others, as a famous worker in hard stones of the days of Leo X (Opere, V, 370). This however was executed, so Zobi says (p. 97), with the wheel after the manner of gem engraving, whereas the works of Ferrucci, of later date, were on the scale of statuary proper.
In connection with the latter we have Vasari’s story of the invention of Duke Cosimo. This is explained by Galluzzi, (Istoria del Granducato di Toscana, Firenze, 1781, I, 157 f.) who says that Cosimo’s efforts to exploit the mineral wealth of Tuscany (see postea, p. 120 f.) gave him an interest in metals, and that he set up a laboratory in his palace, where he carried on experiments in chemistry and physics. Hence the discovery of which Vasari writes. Cosimo certainly in his own time had some personal association with this cutting of porphyry, for Galluzzi says he used to make presents to his friends of porphyry reliefs executed with tools tempered by the new process, and quotes (II, 229) a letter of thanks from a Cardinal to whom a gift of the kind had been forwarded. On the other hand Cellini, (Scultura, ch. 6) makes Tadda the inventor and ignores Cosimo altogether, while Baldinucci, though, like Vasari, he was devoted to the Medici, scouts the idea of Cosimo having had any personal share in the invention of the new tempering bath, which he ascribes to Tadda alone, and he adduces in support of this Tadda’s own testament, in which are the words Franciscus de Fesulis sculptor porfidi, et ipse inventor, seu renovator talis sculpturae, et artis porfidorum incidendi. Cosimo’s participation in the discovery, whatever it was, can hardly have been ascribed to him without some small foundation in fact, and Aurelio Gotti, Le Gallerie e I Musei di Firenze, 2nd Ed., Firenze, 1875, p. 45, gives credit for it to the Duke.
However this may be, Tadda appears to have used the new process for the first time in the production of the tazza for the fountain in the cortile of the Palazzo Vecchio, and to have advanced from this to the more artistic work Vasari goes on to describe. Endeavours to discover the present habitat of the oval portraits of the Medici and the Head of Christ, referred to by Vasari, ante, p. [33], have led to the following result. Signor Supino, the Director of the National Museum at Florence, courteously informed us that the portraits of Cosimo Pater Patriae, of Leo X, and of Clement VII, with one of Giovanni de’ Bicci, were preserved in the magazines of the Bargello, where he has kindly allowed one of us to photograph them. The head of Cosimo has on the chamfer of the bust the inscription OPA DI FRANCO DA FIESOLE, which identifies it with certainty as the work of Tadda of which Vasari writes. The others are treated in the same fashion, and all are mounted on flat oval slabs of green serpentine of Prato. They are no doubt all by the same hand. They were formerly in the Uffizi but have been for many years in the Bargello, and their historical and artistic interest would certainly vindicate for them more honourable treatment than at present is their lot. Plates III and V give the Cosimo Pater Patriae portrait and that of Leo X. They measure about 19 in. by 14 in.
With regard to the other examples noticed by Vasari, Zobi, l.c., p. 108, informed his readers that the two ovals of Duke Cosimo I and his wife the Duchess Leonora were at that time (about 1850) in the Pitti ‘on the wall of the vestibule in the part called Meridiana,’ but he complicates matters by announcing the same about the head of the older Cosimo, which we have just found at the Bargello, and which Gotti says, l.c., p. 46, was originally in the Villa of Poggio Imperiale whence it was conveyed in 1862 to the Uffizi. Zobi’s words are subjoined in the original. ‘Ed i ritratti in profilo del duca Cosimo I, d’ Eleonora di Toledo sua moglie, e di Cosimo appellato il padre della patria, scolpiti a mezzo rilievo e rapportati sul fondo di serpentino, si trovano oggidì situati insieme con altri ritratti parimente porfiretici, sulle pareti del vestibolo al quartiere detto della Meridiana nel palazzo regale.’
The part of the Pitti referred to is on the second floor of the palace and receives its name from a meridian line in brass marked on the floor on which, at the psychological moment, the sun shines through a hole in the roof. Here, through the courtesy of Signor Cornish the Conservator of the Royal Palace, we have seen no fewer than seven oval portraits in porphyry mounted on serpentine that are built into the wall in situations which make their study rather difficult. Among them the marked features of Duke Cosimo are not apparent, but on one of them is the inscription, ‘Ferdinandus Magnus Dux Etr. 1609,’ and on another the name and date of Christina, Duchess of Tuscany, 1669. This all bears out what Baldinucci tells us, that the Ferrucci family in general put their hands to this particular class of work, which was their speciality, just as the glazed terra-cottas were specialities of the della Robbia, while they also adopted into the circle pupils from outside. Zobi, p. 109, quotes an old inventory of 1574, the date of the death of Duke Cosimo I, which mentions ten such portraits of members of the family as at that time existing, all mounted on serpentine. Later on, Baldinucci mentions three sons of Francesco, to one of whom, Romolo, he is supposed to have left his ‘secret.’ There was however also an Andrea Ferrucci, and a Mattias Ferrucci, who if they lacked the pretended ‘secret’ at any rate did the same work, and finally one Raffaello Curradi, a pupil of Andrea, who in 1636 abandoned sculpture and took the Franciscan habit. According to Zobi, p. 116, he was the last of the porphyry sculptors, and ‘dopo quest’ epoca affatto s’ ignora se furono prodotte altre opere porfiree.’ In view of the date 1669 on one of the ovals in the Pitti, this should not perhaps be taken too absolutely. That porphyry has been worked successfully at Florence at later dates, the admirable restoration of the porphyry tazza in the Pitti, mentioned ante, p. [109], and other more recent productions noted by Zobi, sufficiently show.
Plate V
PORTRAIT IN PORPHYRY OF LEO X
BY FRANCESCO DEL TADDA
If we add to the series of ovals the various porphyry busts of members of the Medici house, exhibited in the outer vestibule of the Uffizi and other places, there would be enough porphyry versions of the Medici to furnish material for a monograph.
With regard finally to the ‘Head of Christ’ which Vasari says was taken to Rome and much admired by Michelangelo, the original seems to be lost, but Zobi states, p. 95, that in his time a scion of the Ferrucci family, living at Lugo in the Province of Ravenna, possessed a head of Christ in porphyry signed Mathias Ferrucceus Civis Florentinus Fecit, and he thinks this may have been copied from the original by Francesco del Tadda, of which there is question in Vasari’s text.
THE CORTILE OF THE BELVEDERE IN THE VATICAN, IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
[See § 4, Of Cipollaccio, ante, p. [36].]
The history of this famous Cortile forms the subject of an elaborate paper by Professor Adolf Michaelis in the Jahrbuch of the German Archaeological Institute for 1890. It has been described as ‘the most noteworthy place of art in all Italy or rather in the world,’ as it was the first home of the nascent collection of antique statues formed by successive Popes from the beginning of the sixteenth century, that has grown into the Vatican museum of sculpture. It must be remembered that the octagonal portico which now surrounds the Cortile is a later addition of the last part of the eighteenth century, and when Vasari knew it, about 1530, in the pontificate of Clement VII, it was laid out as a garden of orange trees, with niches by Bramante in the four corners and in the middle of the sides. In these niches and on pedestals in the court were displayed notable antiques, such as the ‘Laocoon,’ the ‘Nile’ now in the Braccio Nuovo, the ‘Tiber’ now in the Louvre, the ‘Torso,’ the ‘Cleopatra,’ two Venuses, the ‘Apollo Belvedere,’ and others. This was a favourite resort of Clement, who used to walk here in the mornings reading his breviary, and listened in the evenings to music made for him by Benvenuto Cellini and others (Cellini, Autobiography, transl., Lond., 1878, p. 42). Here too he consulted with Michelangelo in 1532 on the question of the restoration of the antiques, and Michelangelo recommended to him for the purpose the youthful sculptor Fra Giovann’ Agnolo Montorsoli, whom the Pope installed in the Belvedere to carry out the work (see ante, p. [107]). Among the features of the court were fountains in some of the niches, on which were statues. The ‘Cleopatra’ of the Vatican was one of these, and Clement seems to have desired to make a second fountain corresponding to that of the Cleopatra, to be adorned by the river god Tigris. The ‘Tigris,’ which is now in the Sala a Croce Greca, is said to have been restored by the august hands of Michelangelo himself, and it was for the installation of the ‘Tigris’ that Buonarotti designed the fountain of which Vasari writes. Vasari’s account, which had escaped the notice of Michaelis, is our only authority for this work by Michelangelo, which is not, so far as the present writers can discover, mentioned in any of the numerous ‘Lives’ of the artist. There is a drawing of the fountain by Heemskerck, reproduced by Michaelis, but this only gives the figure, and not the decorative treatment of the niche, which is the point of interest as a parergon by Michelangelo. The situation of the ‘Tigris’ fountain was in the corner where is now the Cabinet of the Laocoon. (Michaelis l.c., and Plans and Drawings of the Vatican in the King’s Library at Bloomsbury. Of older writers Bonanni, Numismata Summorum Pontificum Templi Vaticani Fabricam Indicantia, Roma, 1696, is praised by Lanciani as the most useful and trustworthy).
PARAGON (TOUCHSTONE) AND OTHER STONES ASSOCIATED WITH IT BY VASARI.
[See § 7, Of Paragon, ante, p. [42].]
There are at least six different kinds of stone referred to in this section, and for convenience they are lettered in the text (a) (b) etc.
(a) There is a stone specially suited for the process of testing the precious metals in the way Vasari describes. It is called in various tongues ‘touchstone,’ ‘pierre de touche,’ ‘Probirstein,’ ‘pietra di paragone,’ ‘basanite’ from Greek βάσανος, a test, and in Latin ‘Lapis Lydius’ from the reason that it was found in Lydia. According to Theophrastus, Περὶ Λίθων, § 35, and Pliny, Hist. Nat., XXXIII, 8, it was only found in small nodules, and this agrees with the character of the stone. It is described by Professor Bonney as a ‘silicified argillite,’ that is to say a clayey sedimentary stone largely impregnated with silica, and, as used by the modern jeweller and goldsmith, it is in appearance and texture an extremely hard stone of very fine grain and of a velvet blackness, the colour being due to the presence of carbonaceous elements. Small lumps of fine texture are found embedded in a coarser matrix. It has no mystic power of testing metals. The piece of metal to be essayed is simply rubbed on the stone and the mark scrutinized, or compared as regards colour with marks from similar rubbings of metal pins of known composition. A piece of the stone, showing some marks of the kind, is given as I on the Frontispiece. For the above purpose any hard, fine-grained, compact stone of a dark colour will serve, and black jasper Wedgewood-ware answers the demand as well as a natural stone. The small portion of the metal rubbed off as above may however be tested more searchingly by the application of acid, and for this to be practicable the stone must not be a limestone, which would be at once attacked by the acid and confuse the test.
(b) The ‘other variety with a different grain and colour,’ of which Egyptian sphinxes were made, must be basalt (or diorite) in which material the statue which Vasari calls the ‘hermaphrodite in Parione’ is actually cut. A fine-grained basalt would serve well enough as a touchstone, though it is not the true material.
(c) There appears to be a kind of granitic stone, which Mr Brindley calls ‘an augite variety of green granite found alongside the Prato serpentine’ (for which see below) found near Prato (Repetti, art. ‘Monte Ferrato,’ writes of a ‘granito di Prato’ or ‘granitone di Figline’), but the stone that Vasari goes on to describe (d) as used for sarcophagi, is of another composition altogether. This is a black or grey limestone that used to be abundantly employed as the setting for Florentine mosaics, and is still used for such purposes as inlaid letters, etc., in white marble. P, as above, shows a piece cut for such use. It is however liable to white or light-grey veins, and is now supplanted at the Florentine mosaic manufactory by a black marble or limestone imported from Belgium. The sarcophagus of Piero Soderini, behind the high altar in the church of the Carmine at Florence is in a grey limestone much traversed by lighter veins. Such a stone could not be suitably used as a touchstone, as in the first place it is not hard enough, and, in the second, would not admit of the use of the acid test. The name ‘paragone’ is however very commonly applied to it. The ‘canopy of Prato touchstone’ is mentioned by other writers beside Vasari, but is no more to be seen and may have perished in the Carmine fire.
(e) Here again we have a quite different stone, though one very well known and in common use. The dark stone which occurs in bands on Tuscan buildings in Florence and elsewhere is known as ‘Verde di Prato’ and is a species of (true) serpentine, very dark in hue and often seeming purplish or puce-coloured rather than green. It would be too soft to make a good touchstone, and is disposed to disintegrate when exposed to severe climatic conditions. Thus on the façade of S. Miniato a Monte on the hill facing the north it is far more weathered than on the Duomo or Campanile below. For the quarries of it and its use see the Note, postea, p. 127. E, as above, shows a characteristic piece kindly lent from his collection by Professor Bonney.
(f) Lastly there is the red marble used in bands on the Campanile and Duomo. For this also see the Note p. 128.
TUSCAN MARBLE QUARRIES.
[See §§ 5, 9, 97, 99, etc.]
The best work on the subject of Italian stones is that by Jervis, I Tesori Sotterranei dell’ Italia, Torino, 1889, and a considerable amount of information is contained in the local articles in E. Repetti’s Dizionario geographico, etc., della Toscana, Firenze, 1839, and also in the Official Catalogue of the Italian section in the London International Exhibition of 1862. In connection with investigations which we have had to make on all this subject of the stones, we have to acknowledge with all gratitude the expert aid kindly afforded by Professors Bonney of Cambridge and Geikie of Edinburgh, as well as the valuable local assistance and information kindly given to us by Professor Enrico Bonanni of Carrara and the representatives of the firm Henraux et Cie of Seravezza, the owners of the Monte Altissimo quarries presently to be mentioned. From both these sources we have obtained knowledge which we could not otherwise have compassed, and we desire again to express our obligations to Mr W. Brindley, who is as well known in the Carrara district as in London, and who gave us these introductions as well as much technical information.
The quarries mentioned by Vasari are named in the accompanying table, where there are also indications of the kinds of stone he signalizes as their products. It must of course be understood that extensive quarries generally produce more than one kind of stone, as Vasari notes in the case of the Carrara quarries in § 9, and again in ‘Painting’ § 97, where he speaks of variegated marbles alternating with the white.
The principal deposits of marble are those in the Carrara district, in the mountains called the Apuan Alps near the sea coast between Pisa and Spezia. The marbles of the district have been exploited since the time of the Romans, under the name of marbles of Luna or Luni. The site of the Etrusco-Roman town of Luni is a little south of the railway line, about half way between Avenza-Carrara and Sarzana, and traces of the Roman workings are observable in many of the present quarries. The industry received a notable impulse at the great artistic epoch of the Renaissance. Duke Cosimo de’ Medici gave considerable attention to the exploitation of this form of mineral wealth, as was also the case with the metal-producing mines (ante, p. [112]). He opened new quarries in the Pietrasanta district of the Apuan Alps, and also gave special attention to the quarries in the Pisan Mountains, between Pisa and Lucca, and to facilitating the transport of the material from the hills to the former town.
The special quarries of which the town of Carrara is the centre and dépôt are the oldest and the most prolific, and a useful local guide to Carrara gives a long list of the effective ones in their different groups, with their respective products. Of these, that which has furnished the finest statuary marble in the largest blocks is the quarry of Polvaccio, in the Ravaccione valley under Monte Sagro, one of the culminating points of the ridge of the Apuan Alps. See the sketch map, Fig. 10. Vasari (ante, p. [46]) specially praises the Polvaccio marbles, as being free from the veins and flaws so tiresome to the sculptor. There are now other localities in the district that furnish as good pieces as Polvaccio.
There is another important centre a little to the south-east, that is of more interest in the present connection. This is Pietrasanta, which is the emporium for the quarries of Seravezza several times mentioned by Vasari, and those of Stazzema, a little further up among the hills.
The Seravezza district is quite apart from that of Carrara, and the little town in question nestles in the folds of the ridges that descend from Monte Altissimo, the culminating point next to the south from Monte Sagro, both peaks being between 5 and 6,000 feet high. Both districts are rich in memories of Michelangelo. About his work at Carrara there is more than one published treatise, as for example Carlo Frediani’s Ragionamento Storico, 2nd Ed., Siena, 1875, while in connection with his proceedings at Seravezza, and especially the identification of localities mentioned in his correspondence and memoranda, MM. Henraux have furnished us with some first-hand information. Both at Carrara and at Pietrasanta inscriptions indicate houses where he lodged on his visits to the localities. Carrara was his first love, and when charged by Leo X in 1516 with the work at S. Lorenzo at Florence he betook himself thither for marbles. Vasari, in his Life of Michelangelo, Opere, ed. Milanesi, VII, 189, tells us how while he was there he received a letter from the Pope bidding him turn his attention rather to the Seravezza district, which was actually in Tuscan territory, whereas Carrara was in the principality of Massa-Carrara, and at the time under the rule of the Marchese Alberigo, who was Michelangelo’s friend.
Fig. 10.—Sketch map of the marble-producing districts of the Apuan Alps.
Repetti has published documents of the year 1515, which show that at that date the Commune of Seravezza resolved to make a donation to the Florentine people of the right to quarry in the cliffs of Monte Altissimo, in which it is said, ‘there are supposed to be mines and quarries of marble’ (in quibus dicitur esse cava et mineria pro marmoribus cavendis), and also of the ground necessary for making a road for transport. This was the cause of the Pope’s orders to Michelangelo, which Vasari says he obeyed with great reluctance. In the invaluable ‘Contratti’ and ‘Ricordi,’ which G. Milanesi has printed in his volume of Michelangelo’s Lettere (Firenze, 1875), we find Buonarroti in 1516–7 at Carrara, getting material from the Polvaccio quarry, but at the beginning of 1518 he notes (Lettere, p. 566) ‘Andai a cavare a Pietra Santa e fecivi l’avviamento (the start) che oggi si vede fatto,’ and from this time his chief work was beneath the wild cliffs of Monte Altissimo (ibid., p. 573 f.). A memorandum of a later date (Lettere, p. 580) thus worded, ‘a dì circa venticinque di febraio nel mille cinquecento diciassette (our 1518) ... non mi possendo servire a Carrara di detti marmi, mi missi a fare cavare nelle montagnie di Seraveza, villa di Pietra Santa, dove inanzi non era mai più stato cavato,’ shows that this was pioneer work. The contract made at Pietrasanta on March 15, 1518, for the work of quarrying (Lettere, p. 673) indicates that the locality was the gorge of the Serra, which runs up northward from Seravezza to the heart of the mountains. Two localities are mentioned, one, ‘Finochiaia sive Transvaserra,’ and another opposite to this, ‘dirimpetto et riscontro,’ called ‘alla Cappella.’ The first place is now called ‘Trambiserra,’ and will be seen on the sketch map on the west of the gorge with ‘la Cappella’ over against it on the east. Another contract of April 14 in the same year mentions quarrying projected ‘a l’ Altissimo’ in a locality called ‘a la Piastra di verso Strettoia sive Antognia.’ There is a Strettoia on the lower hills west of Seravezza, but that the operations in question were really higher up the gorge among the very cliffs of Monte Altissimo is proved by a letter of later date from Vincenzio Danti to Duke Francesco de’ Medici (July 2, 1568; Gaye, Carteggio, III, 254), who reports that he examined the old workings and road of Michelangelo ‘al Altissimo,’ and mentions various localities, ‘la Polla,’ ‘Costa dei Cani,’ etc., the sites of which are at the head of the valley as shown on the map. ‘La Polla’ means the water-head. Moreover, in a letter from Seravezza dated August, 1518, Lettere, p. 394, Michelangelo speaks of the road for the transport of the marbles as being nearly finished, though in three places rocks had still to be cut away. The places are ‘a Rimagno,’ ‘poco passato Rimagno per andare a Seraveza,’ and ‘a l’ ultime case di Seravezza, andando verso la Corvara.’ The places are marked on the sketch map. Marbles from any part of the upper gorge of the Serra would have to be brought past Rimagno on their way down, and we therefore see that Michelangelo exploited to some extent the actual marbles of the Altissimo, which for the last half century have furnished the very finest and most costly statuary marble of the whole Apuan Alps, Mr Brindley says, of the whole world. The existing quarries are under the serrated peaks of Monte Altissimo, at an elevation of some 3 to 4,000 feet, and the marbles are now brought down in trolleys sliding along a rope stretched across the valley and mounting to the highest levels. It is believed locally that the workings called ‘Vincarella’ are some of the first opened by Michelangelo, and from somewhere at any rate among these cliffs, in the latter part of 1518, by the agency of some skilled workmen who had been sent from Settignano as well as local hands, and by means of ropes and windlasses and sledges, Michelangelo was letting down a column, which however fell and was broken.
A letter from Seravezza of April 20, 1519, Lettere, p. 403, gives details of the accident, which was due to the fracture of a defective ring of iron, and he says, ‘Siàno stati a un grandissimo pericolo della vita tutti che eravamo attorno: e èssi guasto una mirabil pietra.’ No wonder he records in a memorandum that he subsequently left Pietrasanta ill, and that he exclaims in a postscript to a letter of April 1518, Lettere, p. 138, ‘Oh, cursed a thousand times be the day and the hour when I quitted Carrara!’
The Monte Altissimo quarries are situated in a scene that to us to-day is sufficiently wild, though the modern lover of the mountains finds it full of an austere beauty. To Michelangelo, who was fretting at his enforced loss of time and in no mood to surrender himself to the influences of nature, it was a savage and inhospitable country. He writes from Seravezza to Florence in August 1518, (Lettere, p. 394), ‘The place where we have to quarry here is very rugged (molto aspro), and the men are very unskilled in such work: nevertheless we must have much patience for several months till the mountains are tamed and the men are instructed. Afterwards we shall go on more quickly: it is enough that what I have promised, that will I at all costs perform, and I will do the finest work that has ever yet been accomplished in Italy, if God be my aid!’ As a fact it was 1521 before the first column for the façade of S. Lorenzo arrived in Florence, the rest, as Vasari says, (ante, p. [47] and Opere, VII, p. 190) remained in the quarries or by the seashore, and the ‘finest work’ was never even begun. MM. Henraux state that they know of no traces of the columns said to have been left thus ‘on the sea shore’ (by Forte dei Marmi) but they possess a piece of a fractured column found near the site of Michelangelo’s supposed workings at ‘la Polla.’
At the death of Pope Leo nothing had been accomplished but the foundations of the façade, and the transport of a great column from Seravezza to the Piazza di S. Lorenzo! For nearly thirty years after this time the quarries of this district were almost deserted, and the roads which Michelangelo had begun were not completed.
At a later period however Duke Cosimo I paid special attention to the quarries of the Seravezza region, and had a casino or summer residence built here for himself by Ammanati, now termed ‘Il Palazzo,’ and the residence of the Mayor. A commissioner was established at Pietrasanta as the metropolis of the district, to supervise the workings. In the ‘Introduction’ to Painting at 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 general | Breccias | (p. 37 f.) (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.) | |||
| „ | Polvaccio | Best Statuary Marble in largest blocks | (p. 46) | |
| „ | Pietrasanta | [Monte Altissimo, | Columns for S. Lorenzo | (p. 46) |
| Seravezza | Alla Cappella, etc.] | ‘Campanini,’ ‘Saligni,’ coarse marbles | (p. 50) | |
| Stazzema | Statuary Marble (not now obtained) | (p. 261) (C.D.) | ||
| Mischi (Breccias) | ||||
| [Monti Pisani] | Pisa | Monte S. Giuliano | Fine White Marble, used on Duomo & Campo-Santo | (p. 50) |
| [Tuscan Maremma] | Gavorrano | [Caldana di Ravi] | [Red Limestone] | |
| [Promontory opposite Elba] | [Piombino] | Campiglia | Coarse Marbles, suited for building | (p. 50) |
| [Monte Albano] | [Pistoja] | [Monsummano] | Red Marble (limestone) on Duomo, Florence | (p. 43) (F.) |
| Neighbourhood of Florence, | Prato | [Monte Ferrato, Figline] | Marmo Nero [Verde di Prato] on Duomo, Florence | (p. 43) (E.) |
| North | ||||
| 3 m. N. of Prato | Paragone (limestone) for monuments | (p. 42) (P.) | ||
| East | Impruneta | |||
| 7 m. E. of Florence | Breccias | (p. 37) | ||
| South | Monte Rantoli between valleys of Ema and Greve | S. Giusto or [Monte Martiri] | Breccias | (p. 37) |
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.
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 Ca.’ 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.