before him, but who in reality never landed until the Pope had passed away. So faded a heroic dream. “It has pleased God,” wrote the Senator of Rome, Guido di Carlo Piccolomini, to the Signoria of Siena, on August 15th, “this night, at the third hour, to call to Himself the blessed soul of the happy memory of Pope Pius. It is a little consolation to us in so great a loss that, being mortal like other men, he has died the most glorious Pontiff that for a very long time has sat in that seat.”[95]
In spite of the express stipulation in the contract that Pinturicchio “shall be bound to make all the designs of the histories with his own hand, in cartoons and on the walls, and to paint all the heads of the figures in fresco with his own hand,” Vasari declares that the designs and cartoons for all the scenes were drawn by Raphael, then a youth. This view, though once scouted by serious historians of Italian art, is winning ground again in a modified form—at least so far as the first and fifth, the journey to Basle, and the meeting of the Caesar with Leonora, are concerned, for both of which there exist what seem to be authentic drawings from Raphael’s hand at Florence and Perugia respectively.[96] The mythological and allegorical devices on the ceiling, the arabesques and grotesques in the pilasters between the histories with the six times repeated twin cherubs supporting the arms of the Piccolomini, are by Matteo Balducci and other pupils and assistants of Pinturicchio. The famous marble group of the Three Graces, one of the first antiques to be worshipped in the days of the Renaissance, was brought hither by the Cardinal Francesco; from it Raphael made his first studies of ancient sculpture. Here, too, are several superb choir books, with miniatures by Sano di Pietro, Girolamo da Cremona, Liberale da Verona, and others. The sculptured woodwork is by Antonio Barili. The Adam and Eve over the door is a meritorious production of the school of Giacomo della Quercia.
Over the door of the right transept, outside the Cathedral, is a very beautiful sculptured medallion of the Madonna and Child with Angels. It is ascribed by M. Reymond to Donatello.
In what would have been a part of the right aisle of the larger Duomo, is the Opera del Duomo, the Cathedral Museum. On the ground floor is a room containing some of the original graffiti from the pavement, where these have been replaced by copies, and some of the statues from the façade. Here, too, in a mutilated condition, are Giacomo della Quercia’s reliefs from the Fonte Gaia: the Madonna and Child; the Virtues; the Creation of Adam and the Expulsion from Paradise (masterpieces which even in their ruin are superb), and less important fragments. There is a striking Moses, from a fountain in the Ghetto, probably by Federighi but scarcely unworthy of Giacomo himself. Also by Federighi are the bas-reliefs from the chapel in the Campo. A St John in terra-cotta by Giacomo Cozzarelli and a Transfiguration by Girolamo Genga of 1510 are also worthy of note. On the first floor, beyond the hall where designs and models are exhibited connected with the restoration of the pavement, is a small room containing original designs. Two, at least, are of first importance; the design for the façade of the Baptistery of Siena, by Giacomo di Mino del Pellicciaio (20); an old drawing said to represent Giotto’s original design for the Campanile of Florence (34), crowned with the steeple that according to Vasari was abandoned “because it was a German thing and of antiquated fashion.” There are also plans connected with the building of the Duomo (e.g. 60), and a curious sketch (33) for the suggested portico to the Campo, said to have been invented for Pandolfo Petrucci by Peruzzi and designed by a certain Pomarelli. On the stairs are the Baptism of Christ, by Andrea del Brescianino and his brother Raffaello, formerly in San Giovanni, and a modern plan of the abandoned enlargement of the Duomo.
In the gallery of the second floor is what may, perhaps, be taken as the supreme picture of the Middle Ages; the famous ancona which Duccio di Buoninsegna painted for the high altar of the Duomo. “It was the most beautiful picture that was ever seen or made,” wrote the contemporary chronicler, Andrea Dei. “It cost more than three thousand golden florins, and Duccio the painter laboured many years in doing it.” Documentary evidence shows that he took less than three years over the work; it was assigned to him on October 9th, 1308, and it was borne in triumph to its place on June 9th, 1311. To place it accurately in the story of mediaeval art, we may remember that Giotto had already painted his earlier works and was probably then engaged upon his frescoes in the Arena at Padua, while it was precisely in these years that Dante was labouring upon his Inferno and hailing with fierce exultation the advent of a political Messiah in the person of Henry of Luxemburg. A public holiday was proclaimed when it was completed. With ringing of bells from churches and palaces, the musicians of the Signoria marching in front with trumpets, drums and tambourines, the picture was solemnly carried in triumph from the painter’s workshop through the Via di Stalloreggi, along the Via di Città, then down and round the Campo, and up again to its place in the Duomo. “On the day that it was carried to the Duomo,” writes an anonymous chronicler who was probably present, “the shops were shut; and the Bishop bade that a goodly and devout company of priests and friars should go in solemn procession, accompanied by the Signori Nove and all the officers of the Commune and all the people; all the most worthy followed close upon the picture, according to their degree, with lights burning in their hands; and then behind them came the women and children, with great devotion. And they accompanied the said picture as far as the Duomo, making procession round the Campo as is the use, all the bells sounding joyously for the devotion of so noble a picture as is this. And all that day they offered up prayers, with great alms to the poor, praying God and His Mother who is our advocate, that He may defend us in His infinite mercy from all adversity and all evil, and that He may keep us from the hands of traitors and enemies of Siena.”[97]
In those days, as already remarked, the high altar stood under the cupola, and the picture was painted on both sides. They have been separated and otherwise mutilated; several smaller scenes have disappeared, and the whole has suffered from neglect and from restoration; but still, rich with gold and the bright colours that the sumptuous Sienese loved, it remains a supreme manifestation of the soul of mediaeval faith. In the great central panel is the vision of the immaculate Virgin Mother—Queen of Heaven and Earth—with her Divine Babe, “a beauty that was joy in the eyes of all the other saints,” as Dante has it; while Angels, “each distinct in splendour and in art,” their brows decked with such jewels as the seer of Patmos saw in the New Jerusalem of his revelation, cluster round her throne, bearing the mystical wands that end in the symbol of the Blessed Trinity. The Prince of the Apostles, the two Johns, the virgin martyrs Agnes and Catherine, stand in contemplation, while at their
