While Cellini was in France, Primaticcio had been sent to Italy to collect art treasures on behalf of the king. The painter returned with the moulds of some of the most celebrated statues of antiquity. Bronze castings were made from these at the foundry at Fontainebleau and the statues were finally set up in the long gallery at Fontainebleau ready for the king’s inspection. They included the Vatican “Ariadne,” the “[Apollo Belvedere],” the “[Laocoon],” the “[Aphrodite of Cnidus]” and the “Hercules Commodus.” Cellini had certainly some ground for complaint when he found his silver statue of Jove placed in such a company, and it is not surprising that he attributed the chance to the envy of his rival, the painter. Readers of the “Autobiography” will remember the wealth of artistic detail intended to “add verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative” with which Cellini narrates how the malice of Francis’ mistress, Mme. d’Estampe, was used against him. The visit of Francis to the gallery was delayed until evening in the hope that Cellini’s silver statue would appear mean among the ancient masterpieces with which it was to be shown. Of course the wayward Florentine was fully equal to the emergency. He placed a great torch in the hand of Jove and ordered his assistant to avoid lighting it until the king had passed the rest of the statues and was inspecting the silver one. The flood of light produced the effect which Cellini had anticipated. It was the modern statue, not the old-time bronzes which appeared the more effective.
The experience of Cellini at the Court of Francis I. proves that sculpture in France had now a body of influential and appreciative patrons—the first essential of a strong art movement. As we have seen, these patrons had very solid reasons for the interest they extended to the artists they employed. Francis’ marked preference for painting and sculpture of the Italian manner was not, however, without drawbacks. By selecting Rosso and Primaticcio to supervise the decoration of the palace at Fontainebleau, Francis practically endowed a foreign style. No doubt his judgment was sound. The native sculptors and painters had neither the experience nor the skill to carry out a scheme so foreign to anything upon which they had worked before.
In a very short while, however, the example of the Italians and the heavy premium placed upon any artistic talent led to the rise of native sculptors of distinction. The first French sculptor of supreme ability was Jean Goujon. The name first occurs in the building accounts of St. Maclou at Rouen in 1540. By 1547 Jean Goujon had entered the service of Francis I. Two years later he was at work upon the Fountain of the Innocents of Paris. The most instructive example of Goujon’s work is, however, the famous “[Diana]” now in the Louvre. The statue originally surmounted a fountain in the courtyard of Diana of Poitiers’ Castle of Anet, built by Henry II. for his mistress. The marble rested upon a sarcophagus raised upon tier after tier of carved decorative work. It was, therefore, intended to be viewed at an elevation, as can be seen in the well-known drawing by Goujon himself at the British Museum.
In estimating the genius of Goujon, the fact that he was first and foremost an architect must never be forgotten. The full beauty of his statues can only be properly appreciated when considered in connection with the sites for which they were designed. When we realize the decorative scheme of which a statue like “[Diana]” was intended to be the culminating-point, we can see that the claims of Goujon to be considered as the founder of modern French sculpture are not ill-founded. In addition to its fine decorative effect, the “[Diana]” possesses that balance which has always been a feature in the finest French art. For the rest, Goujon owes some prominent characteristics of his style to Cellini and the painters of the Fontainebleau school. Note, for instance, the elongated limbs and the over-slender proportions of his figures which Goujon has accentuated in his endeavour to endow his statues with all possible grace. The justification for the inclusion of Goujon among the great masters of sculpture depends upon the fact that he was the first French sculptor to introduce the nude figure as an object of æsthetic admiration into French decorative art. In doing so he freed French sculpture from the bonds of asceticism, and showed how its eventual greatness was to be secured.
JEAN GOUJON
DIANA (FROM THE FOUNTAIN AT ANET)
Louvre, Paris
Nor does this exhaust the interest attaching to Goujon’s “Diana.” It equally emphasizes the second great characteristic of French sculpture—its connection with the feminine element, which has always been a dominant factor alike in French art and French social life.
It is said that in the statue of “[Diana],” Goujon has portrayed the form of his patroness, Diana of Poitiers. And, indeed, the cold nude figure of the goddess of Chastity might well serve as a character-sketch of the passionless beauty who captivated the Dauphin Henry when he was half her age, ruled France for half a decade, and—a poseuse to the last—died leaving large sums to found a home for repentant Magdalens of Paris. Almost every prominent French artist during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries was closely connected with one or other of the Court favourites. In the case of Goujon it was Diana of Poitiers. His career was immensely helped by the friendly aid of the mistress of Henry II.