This lank, formal angel is from the Greco-Italian school of the eleventh century. From the eleventh to the thirteenth century the forms of the angels became, like all things in the then degraded state of Byzantine Art, merely conventional. They are attired either in the imperial or the sacerdotal vestments, as already described, and are richly ornamented, tasteless and stiff, large without grandeur, and in general ill drawn: as in these figures from Monreale (24).
24 Greek Angels (Cathedral of Monreale. Eleventh century)
On the revival of Art, we find the Byzantine idea of angels everywhere prevailing. The angels in Cimabue’s famous ‘Virgin and Child enthroned’ are grand creatures, rather stern; but this arose, I think, from his inability to express beauty. The colossal angels at Assisi (A.D. 1270), solemn sceptred kingly forms, all alike in action and attitude, appeared to me magnificent (30).
In the angels of Giotto (A.D. 1310) we see the commencement of a softer grace and a purer taste, further developed by some of his scholars. Benozzo Gozzoli and Orcagna have left in the Campo Santo examples of the most graceful and fanciful treatment. Of Benozzo’s angels in the Riccardi palace I have spoken at length. His master Angelico (worthy the name!) never reached the same power of expressing the rapturous rejoicing of celestial beings, but his conception of the angelic nature remains unapproached, unapproachable (A.D. 1430); it is only his, for it was the gentle, passionless, refined nature of the recluse which stamped itself there. Angelico’s angels are unearthly, not so much in form as in sentiment; and superhuman, not in power but in purity. In other hands, any imitation of his soft ethereal grace would become feeble and insipid. With their long robes falling round their feet, and drooping many-coloured wings, they seem not to fly or to walk, but to float along, ‘smooth sliding without step.’ Blessed, blessed creatures! love us, only love us—for we dare not task your soft serene Beatitude by asking you to help us!
There is more sympathy with humanity in Francia’s angels: they look as if they could weep, as well as love and sing.
Most beautiful are the groups of adoring angels by Francesco Granacci,[50] so serenely tender, yet with a touch of grave earnestness which gives them a character apart: they have the air of guardian angels, who have discharged their trust, and to whom the Supreme utterance has voiced forth, ‘Servant of God, well done!’
The angels of Botticelli are often stiff, and those of Ghirlandajo sometimes fantastic; but in both I have met with angelic countenances and forms which, for intense and happy expression, can never be forgotten. One has the feeling, however, that they used human models—the portrait face looks through the angel face. This is still more apparent in Mantegna and Filippo Lippi. As we might have expected from the character of Fra Filippo, his angels want refinement: they have a boyish look, with their crisp curled hair, and their bold beauty; yet some of them are magnificent for that sort of angel-beings supposed to have a volition of their own. Andrea del Sarto’s angels have the same fault in a less degree: they have, if not a bold, yet a self-willed boyish expression.