[TheSculptureat the Louvre falls into three main divisions, each of which is housed in a separate part of the building. TheClassical Sculptureis approached by the same door as the Paintings, and occupies the basement floor of Jean Goujon’s part of the Old Louvre, with the wing beneath the Galerie d’Apollon. TheRenaissance Sculptureis approached by a separate door in the eastern half of the same side, and occupies the corresponding suite opposite the Classical series. TheModern Sculptureis also approached by a special door in the north wing of theWside in the old Cour du Louvre, and occupies the suite beyond the Pavillon de l’Horloge.The importance of these three divisions is very different. Without doubt, the most valuable collection, intrinsically and artistically speaking, is that of theClassicalorAntique Sculpture: and this should be visited in close detail by all those who do not contemplate a trip to Rome, Naples, and Florence. Nobody can afford to miss the “Venus of Milo,”the “Diana of Gabii,” or the Samothracian Nikè. On the other hand, these exquisite Greek and Roman works, models of plastic art for all time, including two or three of the greatest masterpieces which have come down to us from antiquity, have yet noorganic connectionwith French history, or even, save quite indirectly, with the development of French art. At the same time, thoroughly to understand them is a work for the specialist: those who have little or no classical knowledge, and who desire to comprehend them, must be content to buy the new official catalogue (not yet issued), to follow closely the excellent labels, and also to study the subject in detail in the various excellent handbooks of antique sculpture, such as Lübke’s or Gardner’s.The discrimination of the different schools, and the evidence (usually very inferential) as to the affiliation of the various works on the great masters or their followers, are so much matters of expert opinion that I do not propose to enter into them here. I shall merely give, for the general reader, a brief account of the succession and evolution of antique plastic art, as exemplified in the various halls of this gallery, referring him for further and fuller details to specialist works on the subject.TheRenaissance Sculpture, on the other hand, is largely French; and, whether French or Italian, it bears directly on the evolution of Parisian art, and has the closest relations with the life of the people. Every visitor to Paris should therefore pay great attention to this important collection, which forms the best transitional link in Western Europe between Gothic Mediævalism and the modern spirit.The collection ofModern Sculpture, again, is both artistically and historically far less important. It may be visited in an hour or two, and it is chiefly interesting as bridging the lamentable gap between the fine Renaissance work of the age of the later Valois, and the productions of contemporary French sculptors.]
[TheSculptureat the Louvre falls into three main divisions, each of which is housed in a separate part of the building. TheClassical Sculptureis approached by the same door as the Paintings, and occupies the basement floor of Jean Goujon’s part of the Old Louvre, with the wing beneath the Galerie d’Apollon. TheRenaissance Sculptureis approached by a separate door in the eastern half of the same side, and occupies the corresponding suite opposite the Classical series. TheModern Sculptureis also approached by a special door in the north wing of theWside in the old Cour du Louvre, and occupies the suite beyond the Pavillon de l’Horloge.
The importance of these three divisions is very different. Without doubt, the most valuable collection, intrinsically and artistically speaking, is that of theClassicalorAntique Sculpture: and this should be visited in close detail by all those who do not contemplate a trip to Rome, Naples, and Florence. Nobody can afford to miss the “Venus of Milo,”the “Diana of Gabii,” or the Samothracian Nikè. On the other hand, these exquisite Greek and Roman works, models of plastic art for all time, including two or three of the greatest masterpieces which have come down to us from antiquity, have yet noorganic connectionwith French history, or even, save quite indirectly, with the development of French art. At the same time, thoroughly to understand them is a work for the specialist: those who have little or no classical knowledge, and who desire to comprehend them, must be content to buy the new official catalogue (not yet issued), to follow closely the excellent labels, and also to study the subject in detail in the various excellent handbooks of antique sculpture, such as Lübke’s or Gardner’s.
The discrimination of the different schools, and the evidence (usually very inferential) as to the affiliation of the various works on the great masters or their followers, are so much matters of expert opinion that I do not propose to enter into them here. I shall merely give, for the general reader, a brief account of the succession and evolution of antique plastic art, as exemplified in the various halls of this gallery, referring him for further and fuller details to specialist works on the subject.
TheRenaissance Sculpture, on the other hand, is largely French; and, whether French or Italian, it bears directly on the evolution of Parisian art, and has the closest relations with the life of the people. Every visitor to Paris should therefore pay great attention to this important collection, which forms the best transitional link in Western Europe between Gothic Mediævalism and the modern spirit.
The collection ofModern Sculpture, again, is both artistically and historically far less important. It may be visited in an hour or two, and it is chiefly interesting as bridging the lamentable gap between the fine Renaissance work of the age of the later Valois, and the productions of contemporary French sculptors.]
[Few or none of the most famous masterpieces of the great classical artists have come down to us with absolute certainty. The plastic works which we actually possess are for the mostpart those which have been casually preserved by accidental circumstances. Almost all the greatest productions of the greatest sculptors have either been destroyed or else defaced beyond recognition. We therefore depend for our knowledge of ancient sculpture either upon those works which were situated on comparatively inaccessible portions of huge buildings like the Parthenon and other temples, and which have consequently survived more or less completely the ravages of time, the mischief of the barbarian, and the blind fury of early Christian and Mahommedan fanatics; or else upon those which have been preserved for us in the earth, under the débris of burnt and ruined villas and gardens, or in the ashes of buried cities like Pompeii. Under these circumstances, the wonder is that so much of beautiful and noble should still remain to us. This is mainly owing to the fact that in antiquitya fine model, once produced, was repeated and variedad infinitum,—much as we have seen at Cluny and in the paintings upstairs each principal scene from the Gospels or the legends of the saints, once crystallized by custom, was reproduced over and over again with slight alterations by many subsequent artists. The consequence is that most of the statues in this department fall into well-marked groups with other examples here or elsewhere. We have not the originals, in most cases, but we havemany copies; and few of these copies are servile reproductions: more often, they show some touch of the individual sculptor. The best antiques are therefore generally those which happen most nearly to approach in spirit and execution a great and famous original. (See later, for example, the Apollo Sauroctonus.) You must compare these works one with another, in this collection and elsewhere, in this spirit, recollecting that often even an inferior variant represents in certain parts the feeling of the original far better than another and generally finer example may happen to do. Nay, such splendid works as the so-called Venus of Milo itself must thus be regarded rather as fortunate copies or modifications of an accepted type by some gifted originator than as necessarily originals by the best masters. With the exception of the few fragments from the Parthenon by Pheidias and his pupils, hardly anything in this gallery can be set down with certainty to any first-class name of the very bestperiods. But many statues can be assigned to groups which took their origin from certain particular famous sculptors: we know theschool, though not theartist. And several are judged by the descriptions of ancient writers to be copies or variants of works assigned to sculptors of the first eminence.Many of the statues found in the Renaissance period, and up to the close of the eighteenth century, have been freely and often injudiciously restored: others have really antique heads, which do not however in every case belong to them. Not a few have been considerably altered and hacked about in the course of restoration, or of arbitrarily supplying them with independent faces. This reprehensible practice hasnotbeen followed in more recent additions such as the “Venus of Milo” and the Samothracian Nikè.]
[Few or none of the most famous masterpieces of the great classical artists have come down to us with absolute certainty. The plastic works which we actually possess are for the mostpart those which have been casually preserved by accidental circumstances. Almost all the greatest productions of the greatest sculptors have either been destroyed or else defaced beyond recognition. We therefore depend for our knowledge of ancient sculpture either upon those works which were situated on comparatively inaccessible portions of huge buildings like the Parthenon and other temples, and which have consequently survived more or less completely the ravages of time, the mischief of the barbarian, and the blind fury of early Christian and Mahommedan fanatics; or else upon those which have been preserved for us in the earth, under the débris of burnt and ruined villas and gardens, or in the ashes of buried cities like Pompeii. Under these circumstances, the wonder is that so much of beautiful and noble should still remain to us. This is mainly owing to the fact that in antiquitya fine model, once produced, was repeated and variedad infinitum,—much as we have seen at Cluny and in the paintings upstairs each principal scene from the Gospels or the legends of the saints, once crystallized by custom, was reproduced over and over again with slight alterations by many subsequent artists. The consequence is that most of the statues in this department fall into well-marked groups with other examples here or elsewhere. We have not the originals, in most cases, but we havemany copies; and few of these copies are servile reproductions: more often, they show some touch of the individual sculptor. The best antiques are therefore generally those which happen most nearly to approach in spirit and execution a great and famous original. (See later, for example, the Apollo Sauroctonus.) You must compare these works one with another, in this collection and elsewhere, in this spirit, recollecting that often even an inferior variant represents in certain parts the feeling of the original far better than another and generally finer example may happen to do. Nay, such splendid works as the so-called Venus of Milo itself must thus be regarded rather as fortunate copies or modifications of an accepted type by some gifted originator than as necessarily originals by the best masters. With the exception of the few fragments from the Parthenon by Pheidias and his pupils, hardly anything in this gallery can be set down with certainty to any first-class name of the very bestperiods. But many statues can be assigned to groups which took their origin from certain particular famous sculptors: we know theschool, though not theartist. And several are judged by the descriptions of ancient writers to be copies or variants of works assigned to sculptors of the first eminence.
Many of the statues found in the Renaissance period, and up to the close of the eighteenth century, have been freely and often injudiciously restored: others have really antique heads, which do not however in every case belong to them. Not a few have been considerably altered and hacked about in the course of restoration, or of arbitrarily supplying them with independent faces. This reprehensible practice hasnotbeen followed in more recent additions such as the “Venus of Milo” and the Samothracian Nikè.]
Enter by the same door as for the paintings. Proceed along the corridor (Galerie Denon) and dive, right or left, under the great staircase. (Good new room to theR, containing excellent Roman mosaics from French North Africa.) Pass some good sarcophagi and other objects, and enter theRotonde, which contains for the most part works of a relatively late period. In the centre, the*Borghese Mars (or, in Greek, Ares), a celebrated statue, less virile than is usual in figures of this god. Round the room are grouped many fairly good statues, not a few of them almost duplicates. Among them should be noticed (beginning from the door) on theRa fine Melpomène; then, the Lycian Apollo, with harmless serpent gliding from a tree-trunk; and especially the famous*Silenus nursing the Infant Bacchus, of the School of the great sculptor Praxiteles—perhaps the most pleasing of the many representations of Faun and Satyr life which antiquity has bequeathed to us. This work should be studied as showing that later stage of easy Greek culture when sculpture was not wholly religious and monumental, but when the desire to please by direct arts and graces was distinctly present. Close by are two or three good draped female figures; and another Lycian Apollo, which should be closely compared with the one opposite it, as indicating the nature of the numerous copies or replicas commonly made of famous works of antiquity. Beside this, a couple of Hermæ,or heads on rough bases, in later imitation of the archaic Greek style, with its curious stiff simper: the type was doubtless too sacred to be varied from: a portrait-statue of a lady with the attributes of Ceres; a charming Nymph, carrying an amphora; excellent figures of athletes, etc. Many of the statues in this and succeeding rooms are much restored, and in some cases with heads that do not belong to them. They are interesting as showing the general high level of plastic art among nameless artists of the classical period.
The next room,**theSalle Grecque, orSalle de Phidias, is interesting as containing a few works of the great artist after whom it is called, as well as many specimens ofarchaicGreek art, before it had yet attained to the freedom and grace of the age of Pheidias. In thecentreare fragments of the early half-prehistoric figures (6th centuryB.C.) commonly known as Apollos, but more probably serving in many cases merely as funereal monuments—a man in the abstract, to represent the deceased, like a headstone. They exhibit well the constrained attitudes and want of freedom in the position of the arms and legs, which are characteristic of the earliest epoch. These very old features are still more markedly seen in the mutilated draped Herè in the centre; it well illustrates thestarting-pointof Hellenic art. The admirable*bas-reliefs from Thasos on the entrance wall, on the other hand—removed from a votive monument to Apollo, the Nymphs and the Graces, and still retaining the dedicatory inscription graven over their portal,—exemplify the gradual increase in freedom and power of modelling during the early part of the 5th centuryB.C.This improvement is very noticeable in the Hermes with one of the Graces on the first of these reliefs. Still somewhat angular in movement, they herald the approach of the Pheidian period. From this time forward the advance becomes incredibly rapid.
Next, examine the work of theperfect period. Above is a mutilated fragment of Athenian girls ascending the Acropolis to present the holy robe to Athenè, from thefrieze of the Parthenon, of the great age of Pheidias (not a century later than these archaic attempts): with portions of a Metope of the same temple. The first may be possibly by Pheidias himself: the second by his pupil Alcamenes. Close by,Metope of thetemple of Zeus at Olympia(about 450B.C.), whose subjects are sufficiently indicated on the labels: almost equal in power to the Athenian examples. The fine bas-relief of Orpheus and Eurydice, of the best period (falsely named above, later) should also be observed. (But the works of the archaic and transitional periods are far better exemplified at Munich and in London; while the fragments of Pheidias cannot of course compare with the magnificent series in the British Museum. See the copies of both in the École des Beaux Arts.) By the next window, lion and bull, somewhat recalling remote Assyrian influence; with numerous small reliefs of the best age, which should be carefully studied. These, for the most part of the finest early workmanship, admirably illustrate the extraordinary outburst of artistic spirit during the age which succeeded the wars with Persia. The reliefs on theend wall, chiefly from Athens and the Piræus, as well as those by the last window, belong in most instances to this splendid age of awakening and culminating art-faculty. I do not enumerate, as the labels suffice; but every one of the works in this room should be closely followed. Do not miss the charming, half-archaic, funereal relief of Philis, daughter of Cleomedes, from Thasos.
Continue on through the Long Gallery, flanked by inferior works—but what splendid inferiority!—to the room of theMedea sarcophagus, a fine stone tomb, containing scenes from the legend of Medea and the children of Jason. Round the room are grouped several small statues, much restored, indeed, and not of the best period, but extremely charming. The most noticeable is the dainty little group of the Three Graces, characteristic and pleasing, though with modern heads. The next compartment—that of theHermaphrodite—includes one of the best and purest of the many versions of this favourite subject, from Velletri, couched, by the window. (Another in the Salle des Caryatides, for comparison.) The Farnese Eros is a pretty work of a late period. The room also possesses several works of the Satyr class, two of which, close by, are useful as instances of repetition. The four statues of Venus (Aphroditè), at the four corners (in two closely similar pairs) are also very interesting in the same manner, being variants based upon one original model, closely resembling one another in their generalfeatures, but much altered in the accessories and details. The same may be said of the good figures of Athenè by the far wall.
The Hall of theSarcophagus of Adoniscontains several excellent sarcophagi, the reliefs on which well illustrate the character of the class; among them, one to theLhas interesting reclining figures of its occupant and his wife, an early motive, late repeated. The relief from which the room takes its name, on the wall to the right, represents, in three scenes, the departure of Adonis for the chase; his wounding by a wild boar; and Aphroditè mourning over the body of her lover. Such reliefs afforded important hints in mediæval times to the sculptors who first started the Renaissance movement. As we pass into the next compartment, notice another variant of the Aphroditè.
TheSalle de Psychécontains, opposite the window, the famous figure from which it takes its name (too much restored to be freely judged): together with two characteristic dancing Satyrs, after models of the school of Praxiteles. The fine sculptured chairs of office by the window should also be noticed.
We now come to the Hall of the so-calledVenus of Milo—an absurd mistranslation of the French name: the idiomatic English would be either “the Melos Venus,” “the Melian Venus,” or, better still, “the Melian Aphroditè.” This is undoubtedly the finest plastic work in the whole of the Louvre. Its beauty is self-evident. It was found in 1820 in the island of Melos in the Greek Archipelago. The statue is usually held to represent the Greek goddess of love, and is a very noble work, yetnotone by a recognised master, nor even mentioned by ancient writers among the well-known statues of antiquity. Nothing could better show the incredible wealth of Greek plastic art, indeed, than the fact that this exquisite Aphroditè was produced by a nameless sculptor, and seems to have been far surpassed by many other works of its own period. In type, it belongs to a school which forms a transition between the perfect early grace and purity of Pheidias, with his pupils, and the later, more self-conscious and deliberate style of Praxiteles and his contemporaries. Not quite so pure as the former, it is free from the obvious striving after effect in the latter, andfrom the slightly affected prettinesses well illustrated here in the group of Silenus with the infant Bacchus. The famous series of Niobe and her Children, in the Uffizi at Florence (duplicates of some elsewhere), exhibits much the same set of characteristics. Those works have been attributed on reasonable grounds to Scopas, a contemporary of Demosthenes: and this statue has therefore been ascribed with little hesitation to one of his pupils. It is, however, purer in form than the Niobe series, and exhibits the perfect ideal, artistic and anatomical, of the beautiful, healthy nude female form for the white race. Its proportions are famous. As regards the missing portions, which have happilynotbeen conjecturally restored, it was originally believed that the left hand held an apple (the symbol of Melos), while the right supported the drapery. It is more probable, however, that the figure was really a Nikè (or Victory) and that she grasped a shield and possibly also a winged figure on an orb. Comparison with the other similar half-draped nude statues described as Venuses in the adjoining rooms is very instructive: their resemblances and differences show the nature of the modifications from previous types, while the immense superiority of this to all the rest is immediately apparent. Notice in particular the exquisite texture of the skin; the perfect moderation of the form, which is well developed and amply covered, without the faintest tinge of voluptuous excess, such as one gets in late work; and the intellectual and moral nobility of the features. No object in the Louvre deserves longer study. It is one of the finest classical works that survive in Europe.
Pass to theRinto the next suite of rooms, the first of which contains the colossal figure ofMelpomène, the tragic muse—a splendid example of this imposing type of antique sculpture, so well represented in the Vatican. Round the room are ranged several minor works, including a charming Flute-Player, doubtfully restored, and some excellent busts.
The long series of rooms which follows this one contains in many cases Græco-Roman works, imitated from the great Greek models, and often showing more or less decadent spirit. Among them, however, are some of the finest specimens of ancient sculpture, Greek included: and indeed it must be admitted that the grounds upon which such Greek works aredistinguished by experts from later copies are often sufficiently delicate and inferential. Centre, a beautiful Genius of Sleep. Behind it, good figures of Eros (Love) drawing his bow, again indicating the nature of the replicas and variations of established models which were so familiar to antique sculptors. The little mutilated fragment by their side, well placed here for comparison, excellently illustrates the nature of the evidence on which such works are frequently restored. Further on—a Venus, which is a variant (probably Roman) of the type of the Venus of Arles, just beyond it. Behind this, a little in front in the room, the noble*Pallas from Velletri—the finest and most typical representation of the goddess: a good Roman copy of a Greek work of the best period. Then the famous*Venus of Arles itself, a Greek original, which may be instructively compared with the replica or variant close to it. (The labels well indicate to the student who cares to proceed further in this study the extent of the restorations in every case.) This figure, after the Melian Aphroditè, is probably the most beautiful female form in the entire collection. Behind it, the graceful and exquisitely-draped Polyhymnia (replica of a well-known type), a model of perfect repose and culture, but largely modern. Then, good bust of Homer. Next, the*Apollo Sauroctonus or Lizard-Slayer, a copy in marble of a famous work in bronze by Praxiteles. This is once more one of the many reproductions (not necessarily always actual copies) of types which are mentioned by classical authors. By the archway, Euterpe, and a Votary. Among the sarcophagi, one of Actæon torn by his dogs: another representing the Nine Muses. Most of the figures in this room are marked by a calm and classical repose; while those in the next compartment,
TheSalle du Héros Combatant, indicate in many cases a later tendency to rapidity of motion and violent action, which is alien to the highest plastic ideal. Among the most successful works of this group is the light and airy Atalanta, under the archway,—a beautiful figure of a young girl, running, caught at the most exquisite statuesque moment. Near it, a fine Venus Genetrix. By the window, admirable figure of a wounded Amazon. Next window, the celebrated Borghese Centaur and Bacchus, a charming realization of this mythological conception.Note the playfulness of developed Greek fancy. The centre of the room is occupied by a powerful and anatomically admirable figure of a Fighting Hero (formerly called a Gladiator), by Agasias of Ephesus,—one of the few statues here on which the sculptor has inscribed his name. It is a triumph of its own “active” type of art (where movement and life are aimed at), but wholly lacking in beauty or ideality. It belongs to the age of Augustus or a little earlier. Behind it, Marsyas flayed alive, a repetition of a frequent but unpleasant subject. Centre again, the Faun of Vienne, a young satyr, retaining traces of colour, vigorous and clever. Then,**exquisite ideal statue of a young girl fastening her cloak, commonly but incorrectly known as the Diana of Gabii; for simple domestic grace this dainty work is unrivalled. It is probably of the age of Alexander the Great: and is well worth study. It almost suggests the Italian Renaissance. By the archways, a Hermes known as the Richelieu Mercury, with a closely similar replica. Under the archway leading to the next room, fine portrait statue of the age of Hadrian, representing Antinous, the Emperor’s favourite, in the guise of Aristæus, the mythical hero of agriculture: the features are much less beautiful than in most other instances of this well-known face, several examples of which occur later. Such representations of historical characters in the form of gods or mythical heroes were common at Rome: probably in most cases the sitter’s head and figure were accommodated or adapted to a well-known model.
TheSalle du Tibre, which we next enter, contains in its centre the celebrated figure of*Artemis (Diana) known as “Diane à la Biche” or the “Diane de Versailles,” one of the antique statues acquired by François Ier, the influence of which on later art will be very distinctly felt when we come to examine the French sculpture of the Renaissance. It is a charming, graceful, and delicate figure of the age of declining art, exactly adapted to take the French fancy of that awakening period. It was probably executed at Rome by a Greek sculptor about the time of Julius Cæsar. At the end of the room, colossal recumbent figure of the Tiber, represented as the benignant Father Tiber of Rome, bearing the oar which symbolizes the navigable river, and the cornucopia denoting the agriculturaland commercial wealth of the Tiber valley: by its side nestles the wolf, with Romulus and Remus; a pretty allegorical conception of Rome and the stream which made it: itself doubtless a pendant to the similar recumbent figure of the Nile in the Vatican. Close by, two Satyrs, imitated from Praxiteles. Behind, four Satyrs as Caryatides, from the theatre of Dionysus, Athens, 3rd cent.B.C.Round the wall, good draped figures of goddesses. Walk through these rooms often, in order to gain an idea of the astonishing wealth and purity of Hellenic sculpture.
Now, return through the Salle Grecque and the Rotonde, and turn to theLinto theRoman Galleries, which contain for the most part statues and busts of the imperial epoch.
In the first room are reliefs of sacrifices, and fronts of sarcophagi, together with a fine portrait-statue of Sulla. By the second window, the famous and noble head of Mæcenas, the great Etruscan statesman and minister of Augustus, who practically organised the Roman Empire. The astute features, very Tuscan in type, which in some degree recall those both of Bismarck and Möltke, are full of practical vigour and the wisdom of statecraft. A more characteristic or finer head has not been bequeathed to us by antiquity. Contrast this magnificent and thoughtful bust of the best Roman age, instinct with meaning, with the coarse and coarsely-executed colossal head of Caracalla, the cruel and sensuous Emperor of the decadence, in the next window,—as crude as a coarse lithograph. In the corner, a Mithra stabbing a bull, of a class to be noted again in greater detail later. By the passage into the next room, masks of Medusa with the snaky hair.
Walk straight through the following rooms, without stopping, till you arrive at theSalle d’Augusteon the right, at the end, so as to take the works in historical sequence. This hall is the first in chronological order of theRoman period. It contains portrait-statues and busts of the Julian Emperors and their families, and of the Flavian dynasty. Begin down the centre.*Bust of Julius Cæsar, indicating well the intellectual character and relentless will of the man: a speaking likeness. Next to it, the famous**Antinous (eyes removed; once jewels), a much idealised colossal portrait-bust of the beautiful young favouriteof the Emperor Hadrian, who drowned himself in the Nile in order to become a protecting genius for his patron; he is here represented in a grave and rigid style somewhat faintly reminiscent of Egyptian art, and with the attributes of Bacchus or (more correctly) Osiris; Hadrian deified him and erected a temple in his honour in a town in Egypt which he named after him. Observe the lotus entwined in the hair. Fine portrait-statue of a Roman orator, probably Julius Cæsar, one of the best works of its class of the best period of revived Greek art under the early Roman Empire: signed by Cleomenes. The figure is that conventionally attributed to Hermes or Mercury. Near it, Agrippa, the son-in-law of Augustus and builder of the Panthéon; full of the statesmanlike characteristics of the early empire. Ideal bust of Rome, cold but beautiful; Romulus and Remus on the helmet. Under the tribune, famous*portrait-statue of Augustus, a very noble representation. It is flanked by two good portrait-statues of the Emperor himself, and of his successor, Tiberius. In front of it are Roman boys of the imperial family, the one to theLadmirable in execution. They wear the golden bulla round their necks, which marked lads of noble family; the faces and figures are thoroughly patrician. Windowless wall, members of the imperial (Julian and Claudian) family,—Agrippina, Tiberius, Drusus and Germanicus, etc.; Caligula, showing incipient traces of Cæsarian madness; Octavia, Antonia, and others. Study these carefully. Then, a most malignant Nero, with less unpleasant ones further: a Messalina, whose gentleness of face belies her reputation; a grandiose Claudius; and a selfish Galba, in whom we begin to see traces of the traits produced by ruthless struggle for empire. Near him, a vain-glorious Otho, still fine and classical. Notice the dainty profiles of the women. All the statues and busts in this room, indeed, are conceived in the fine classical spirit, with no trace of the coming decadence. Most of them have the old close-shaven, clear-cut Roman features, contrasting strongly with the weaker, bearded types we shall see later. By the window wall, statues, not so good, of the coarse bull-necked Vitellius; hard, practical, business-like Vespasian; capable Titus, and one or two less satisfactory busts or statues of Julius Cæsar. Observe even already howboth types and art begin to show less perfect finish. The men are more vulgar: the artists less able.
TheSalle des Antonins, next, contains a fine series of busts and statues of this second prosperous epoch of the empire. Facing the river, a very noble seated portrait-statue of Trajan, contrasting well with the other more decadent emperors at the further end. We have here still the old Roman severity, and the close-shaven type, admirably opposed to the more sensuous degenerate faces further on, which herald the decadence. These are the builders-up, the others the destroyers, of a great empire. In the corner close by, two erect Trajans. Notice how clear an idea of the personalities of the emperors comparison of these statues and busts affords one. Close to the archway, a beautiful Faustina Junior, one of the loveliest portrait-busts of the second Roman period. Further on, bearded and weaker emperors of the Antonine age; among them, a capital Lucius Verus, holding the orb of empire. Near it, a fine statue of the philosophic emperor, Marcus Aurelius, seen here rather as the soldier than as the sage. In the centre—the same emperor nude—or rather, a nude figure, on which his head has been placed by a modern restorer. By the middle window, colossal busts of Lucius Verus and Marcus Aurelius, and a very big head of Lucilla, wife of the former. These all deserve study, by comparison with the simpler and nobler types of the Julian period.
TheSalle de Sevère—age of the early decadence—contains in the centre a fine statue of the Emperor’s mother, Julia Mammæa, figured after the common fashion as Ceres—a half deification. Near it, another (less pleasing) bust of Antinous. Excellent statue of Pertinax. Round the walls, portrait-busts of the Antonine family and their successors, in sufficient numbers to enable one to form clear conceptions of their personality. This is especially the case with Caracalla and Plautilla by the last window; Septimius Severus himself—a weak face, gaining somewhat with age; and Lucius Verus, selfishly vicious, with a distinct tinge of conscious cruelty. Near the last, a fine portrait-statue of Faustina Senior. Beside it, pleasing bust of the boy Commodus; his subsequent development may be traced round the rest of thewindow. All these busts, again, should be viewed by the light of their dates; they are identified by means of coins, where the same faces occur with their names—most interesting for comparison.
TheSalle de la Paixcontains mixed works, some of them of the extreme decadence. Among them, a good figure of Minerva in red porphyry, the flesh portions of which have been restored in gilt bronze as Rome. By the window, the Emperor Titus as Mars. A half-length of Gordianus Pius near the archway is an unusually fine and classical example for its age. Fine figure of Tranquillina, his wife, and nude of Pupianus, less successful. In many of these works the decadence triumphs.
TheSalle des Saisonscontains busts, mostly of the extremedecadence, and works with asemi-barbarictinge. The bust of Honorius, by the far door, shows the last traces of classical work rapidly passing intoByzantinestiffness and lifelessness. Note the feebleness of the eyes and general ineffectiveness of plastic treatment. Eugenius, opposite him, equally displays decadence in a somewhat different direction, provincial and Gaulish, foreshadowing barbaric Romanesque workmanship. A fine Muse, however, stands next to Honorius. There are also several very decent reliefs from sarcophagi. The figure of Tiridates, wearing the barbaric trousers, is a fine example of Greco-Roman art applied to a member of an alien civilisation. Close to it, the famousMithraof the Capitol, stabbing a bull, with other representations of the same subject beneath and beside it. These reliefs are extremely illustrative of a most interesting phase of the later Empire. Rome was then a cosmopolitan city, crowded with Syrians, Jews, Egyptians, Asiatic Greeks, and other Orientals. Many of these people introduced into Italy and the Provinces the worship of their own local deities: the cult of Isis, of Serapis, and of other Eastern gods competed with Christianity for the mastery of the Empire. Among these intrusive religions, one of the most successful was the worship of Mithra, which came to Rome indirectly from Persia, and directly from the southern shores of the Black Sea. The mystic deity himself is always represented in an undergroundcave, stabbing a bull; he was regarded as a personification or avatar of the Sun God. His worship spread rapidly to every part of the Roman world, and was immensely popular: similar reliefs have been found in all Romanized regions from Britain to North Africa. The best of those in this room comes from the cave of Mithra in the Capitol at Rome itself, where the eastern god was permitted even to invade the precincts of the Capitoline Jupiter. Notice the barbaric Oriental dress and the voluptuous, soft Oriental treatment; also, the action in the cave, and the personages on the upper earth above it. Compare all these reliefs with one another, and notice their origin as given on the labels. Observe also the close similarity and religious fixity of the representations. They should be studied with care, as illustrative of the conflict of new religions with old in the Roman Empire, out of which Christianity at last emerged triumphant. Their number and costliness shows the strength of this strange faith; their inferior art betokens both eastern influence and the approach of the decadence. Compare the Oriental tinge in the Mithra reliefs with that of some Early Christian works in the small Christian room of the Renaissance Sculpture.
In the centre, Roman husband and wife, in the characters of Mars and Venus, an excellent and characteristic group of the age of Hadrian; contrast the somewhat debased proportions with those we have seen in the best Greek period. Round the wall and by the windows, many inferior portrait-busts of emperors of the decadence; observe their dates, and note the gradual decrease in art and truth, and the slow return to something resembling archaic stiffness. We have thus followed out the rise and culmination of antique art, and watched its return to primitive barbarity. Conspicuous among the works of the better age here are the charming features of Julia Mammæa, wife of Alexander Severus, especially as shown in the bust nearest to the first window. The fine Germanicus, holding the orb of empire, is also an excellent example of the portrait nude of the best period.
Leave this portion of the Museum by theSalle des Caryatidesbeyond, so called from the famous Caryatides by Jean Goujon (French Renaissance; see later), whichsupport the balcony at its further end—very noble examples of the revived antique of the age of François Ier—majestic in their serenity. Above them is a cast from Cellini’s Nymph of Fontainebleau, to be noticed later. The room contains good Greek and Roman work of the culminating periods. In thevestibuleto theL, by the window, the*Borghese Hermaphrodite, a variant on the Velletri type, voluptuous and rounded, belonging to the latest Greek period; the mattress was added (with disastrous effect) by Bernini. In thebody of the hallcolossal Jupiter of Versailles, an impressive Hermes-figure. To theL, noble and characteristic*Demosthenes. In the centre, Hermes and Apollo of the School of Praxiteles: boy fastening his sandals. Dionysus, known as the Richelieu Bacchus. By the right wall, Aphroditè at the bath, in a crouching attitude; a nymph is supposed to be pouring water over her. All the works in this room deserve examination; they are sufficiently described, however, by the labels.
[This collection, one of the most important and interesting among the treasures of the Louvre, occupies a somewhat unobtrusive suite of rooms on the Ground Floor, and is therefore too little visited by most passing tourists. It contains three separate sets of plastic work: first, sculpture of theItalian Renaissance, on which the French was mainly based; second, sculpture of theMiddle Agesin France, leading gradually up to the age of François Ier, and improving as it goes, though uninfluenced as yet by external models; third, and most important of all, in Paris at least, the exquisite sculpture of theFrench Renaissance, a revolt from mediævalism, inspired from above by kings and nobles, based partly on direct study of the antique (many specimens of which were brought to France by François Ier), but still more largely on Italian models, made familiar to French students through the work of artists invited to the Court under the later Valois, as well as through the Italian wars of Charles VIII, Louis XII and François Ier(of which last more must be said when we visit St. Denis). At leastone whole dayshould be devoted by every one to this fascinating collection: those who can afford thetime should come here often, and studyau fondthe exquisite works of Donatello, Michael Angelo, and (most of all) Jean Goujon, Germain Pilon, and their great French contemporaries. The Italians can be seen to greater advantage at Florence and elsewhere; only here can one form a just idea of the beauty and importance of the French Renaissance.]
[This collection, one of the most important and interesting among the treasures of the Louvre, occupies a somewhat unobtrusive suite of rooms on the Ground Floor, and is therefore too little visited by most passing tourists. It contains three separate sets of plastic work: first, sculpture of theItalian Renaissance, on which the French was mainly based; second, sculpture of theMiddle Agesin France, leading gradually up to the age of François Ier, and improving as it goes, though uninfluenced as yet by external models; third, and most important of all, in Paris at least, the exquisite sculpture of theFrench Renaissance, a revolt from mediævalism, inspired from above by kings and nobles, based partly on direct study of the antique (many specimens of which were brought to France by François Ier), but still more largely on Italian models, made familiar to French students through the work of artists invited to the Court under the later Valois, as well as through the Italian wars of Charles VIII, Louis XII and François Ier(of which last more must be said when we visit St. Denis). At leastone whole dayshould be devoted by every one to this fascinating collection: those who can afford thetime should come here often, and studyau fondthe exquisite works of Donatello, Michael Angelo, and (most of all) Jean Goujon, Germain Pilon, and their great French contemporaries. The Italians can be seen to greater advantage at Florence and elsewhere; only here can one form a just idea of the beauty and importance of the French Renaissance.]
Enter by Door D, in Baedeker’s plan—centre of the South-Eastern wing in the (old) Cour du Louvre. Pass straight through the vestibule, and Salle de Jean Goujon; then turn to yourR, traversing the Salle de Michel Ange, and enter that of theItalian Renaissance(numbered VI officially).
The Renaissance in France being entirely based upon that in Italy, we have first to observe (especially in the case of those who have not already visited Venice and Florence) what was the character of theItalian worksupon which the French sculptors and architects based themselves. Here you get, as it were, the original: in French sculpture, the copy. This small hall—the hall ofDonatello—contains works of sculpture of the 13th to the 15th centuries in Italy. Contrast it mentally with the purely mediæval objects which you saw at Cluny, unrelieved for the most part by classical example, in order to measure the distance which separates the Italians of this epoch from their contemporaries north of the Alps. Recollect, too, that the Italian Renaissance grew of itself from within, while the French was an artificially cultivated exotic.
R andLof the door, early squat figures of Strength and Prudence, Italian sculpture of the 13th century, still exhibiting many Gothic characteristics, but with a nascent striving after higher truth which began with the school of the Pisani at Pisa. Opposite them, Justice and Temperance, completing the set of the four cardinal virtues. These may be looked upon as the point of departure. They show the first germ of Renaissance feeling. L of doorway, good Madonna from Ravenna; flanked by two innocent-faced angels, in deacon’s dress, drawing aside a curtain from a tomb—beautiful work of the Pisan school of the 14th century: contrasted with the best French reliefs at Cluny (such as the legend of St. Eustace), these works exhibit the early advance of art in Italy. Between them (contrastingwell with the early French style, as much more idealised) terra-cotta painted Madonna and Child. Beneath, good Madonna in wood, and painted gesso Madonnas, later. Near the window,**beautiful bust of a child, by Donatello, exhibiting the exquisite unconscious naïveté of the early Renaissance. Most of these works are so fully described on their pedestals that I shall only call attention to a few characteristics. The emaciated figure of the Magdalen, in a Glory of Cherubs, below, is the conventional representation of that Saint, when a penitent in Provence, being daily raised aloft to the beatific vision: many examples occur at Florence. The beautiful little terra-cotta Madonna under a canopy close by is admirable in feeling. Opposite it, characteristic decorative work of the Renaissance. Then,**Donatello’s naïf Young St. John, the Patron Saint of Florence, is another exquisite example of this beautiful sculptor. The open mouth is typical. A Lucretia, near it, indicates the general tendency to imitate the antique, still more marked in the relief of a funeral ceremony, where the boy to theRis especially pleasing. Do not overlook a single one of the Madonnas in this delightful room: the one above the funeral relief, though skied, is particularly pleasing. Even the large painted wooden Sienese Madonna in the centre, though the merest church furniture, has the redeeming touch of Italian idealism. The busts of Roman emperors, imitated after the antique, betray on the other hand the true spring of Renaissance impulse.
The room beyond—to theR—No. VII—is filled for the most part with fine coloured terra-cottas ormajolicasof theSchool of Della Robbia. Centre ofLwall, at the end (as you enter), Madonna and Child, with St. Roch showing his plague spot, and St. Francis pointing to the stigma in his side—a votive offering. Fine nude figure,Lof it, of Friendship, by Olivieri. Exquisite little cherubs and angels. Bronze busts, instinct with Renaissance feeling. Window wall—centre—a Della Robbia of the Agony in the Garden: the arrangement is conventional, and occurs in many other works in this Gallery. It is flanked by two good Apostles of the Pisan school (the first to imitate the antique) from the Cathedral of Florence. FarL, a voluptuous figure of Nature by Tribolo, from Fontainebleau,characteristic of the works collected by François Ier. R wall, several Madonnas, all of which should be closely studied. In the centre, terra-cotta of the School of Donatello. R andLof it, fine busts of the Italian Renaissance, with most typical faces. Near the door, portrait-statue of Louis XII, by Lorenzo da Mugiano: this king was the precursor of the French Renaissance: note the fine decorative work on his greaves and knee-caps. In the centre, a fine St. Christopher, his face distorted by the weight of the (non-existent) Christ Child. I note these in particular, butallthe works in these two rooms should be closely followed, both as exhibiting the development from traditional forms, and as illustrating the style of art on which the French Renaissance was grafted. Notice for instance (as survival, modified) the quaint little St. Catherine, in the corner by the window, bearing her wheel, and laying her hand with a caressing gesture on the donor—a special votary, evidently. Observe, again, the three little scenes from the life of St. Anne, in gilt wood, under the large Della Robbia of the Ascension, on the wall opposite the windows. They represent respectively the Rejection of Joachim’s Offering (he is expelled from the Temple by the High Priest, because he is childless: notice his servant carrying the lamb for sacrifice); the Birth of the Virgin (with the usual details of St. Anne in bed washing her hands, the bath for the infant, and the attendant bringing in a roast chicken to the mother); and the Meeting of Joachim and Anne at the Golden Gate—a scene which you may often recognise elsewhere (it comes immediately after the first, the Birth being interposed as principal subject: the servant here bears the rejected lamb less ceremonially). Beneath them, once more, a characteristically dainty St. George and the Dragon—with the beautiful Princess most heartlessly fleeing (as always) in the distance—should be carefully noted for comparison later with Michel Colombe and Raphael (St. George’s lance is accidentally broken: you can still see the stump of it). To theL, again, is a beautiful Tabernacle of the Della Robbia school—angels guarding relics. To theR, a terra-cotta angel, most graceful and beautiful. FurtherL, charming Madonna: I need hardly call attention to the frames of fruit, which were a Della Robbia speciality. FurtherR,Baptism of Clovis, gilt, and very spirited, though over-crowded. Do not overlook the skied St. Sebastian.
(The little room beyond again contains a small but interesting collection ofEarly Christian workswhich must be visited and studied on some other occasion. These very ancient Christian sculptures, antique in conception, antedate the rise of the conventional representations.)
Now return through Room VI to theSalle de Michel Ange(Room V), containing for the most part still more developed works of the Italian Renaissance, which therefore stand more directly in connection with French sculpture of that and the succeeding period. The*doorwayby which we enter is a splendid specimen of a decorated Italian Renaissance portal, removed from the Palazzo Stanga at Cremona; it was executed by the brothers Rodari at the end of the 15th century, and is decorated with medallions of Roman Emperors, a figure of Hercules (the mythical founder of Cremona), and of Perseus, together with reliefs from the myths of those heroes and others. Identify these. Above the name of Perseus, for example (to theR), is a relief representing the three Gorgons and the head of Pegasus. Above that of Hercules (L) are the heads of the Hydra which he slew (as also represented in a bronze on the end wall not far from it). This gateway you should mentally compare, when you visit the École des Beaux-Arts, with that of Diane de Poitiers’ Château d’Anet now erected in the courtyard and with thefaçadeof the Château de Gaillon at the same place. The beautiful Italian Renaissance fountain in the centre of the room comes itself from the same Château de Gaillon: it was given to Cardinal d’Amboise (who built the Château) by the Republic of Venice.
The most beautiful works in this room, however, are the two so-called*Fettered Slaves, by Michael Angelo—in reality figures of the Virtues, designed for the monument of Julius II. It was Michael Angelo’s fate seldom to finish anything he began. This splendid monument, interrupted by the too early death of the Pope who commissioned it, was to have embraced (among other features) figures of the Virtues, doomed to extinction by the death of the pontiff. These are two of them: the one to the right, unfinished, is of less interest:**that tothe left, completed, is of the exquisite beauty which this sculptor often gave to nude youthful male figures. They represent the culminating point of the Italian Renaissance, and should be compared with the equally lovely sculptures of the Medici tombs in San Lorenzo at Florence. Observe them well as typical examples of Michael Angelo’s gigantic power and mastery over marble.
You will note in the windows close by several exquisitebronze reliefs; eight of them, by Riccio, are from the monument of the famous anatomist, Della Torre, representing his life and death in very classical detail. (Lwindow) Della Torre lecturing at Verona; dangerously ill; sacrifice to the gods for his recovery; his death and mourning: (Rwindow) his obsequies; passage of the soul (as a naked child with a book) in Charon’s boat (pursued by Furies); apotheosis (crowned by Fame); and celebrity of the deceased on earth; all designed in a thoroughly antique manner. (Souls of the recently dead are frequently represented leaving the body like new-born children.) This work shows the Renaissance not only as secular and humanist but even as pagan: early ages would have considered such treatment impious. All the other reliefs in this very important room should be carefully noted. By this (R) window, the Annunciation (from Cremona); Judgment of Solomon (now wholly conceived in the classical spirit); Adoration of the Magi, in bronze; figures of Galba and Faustina, entirely antique in tone; Paul shaking off the snake, etc. A portrait medallion of Ludovico il Moro of Milan (also by this window) may be instructively compared with those in contemporary Italian paintings upstairs. The next (L) window (with a rosso antico and marble imitation of the Wolf of the Capitol) contains the beginning of the reliefs from the tomb of Della Torre, in the same classical style, together with two exquisite Madonnas byMino da Fiesole, and other charming works of the same period. The infantile simplicity of Mino has an unspeakable attraction. Between the windows, a Pietà from Vicenza, with St. Jerome, beating his breast as always with a stone, and St. Augustine (I think) writing. On the far wall, note a fine wooden Annunciation in two figures, from Pisa, of the Florentine 14th cent. The angel Gabriel and the Madonna are frequently thus separated.Between them, admirable equestrian figure of Robert Malatesta, of Rimini, where the action of the horse is particularly spirited. Fine bust of Filippo Strozzi by Benedetto da Majano on a pedestal close by. (You will find many works by this artist for this patron at Florence.) The various Virgins on theRwall should also be carefully studied, as well as the fine wooden Circumcision—a good rendering of the traditional scene, where the artist triumphs over his intractable material—and the exquisitely dainty bust of the Florentine**Baptist, instinct with the tender simplicity of Mino da Fiesole, whose decorative fragments above must not be overlooked. Do not leave this room without having carefully examined everything it contains, as every object is deserving of study. [For instance, I have omitted to mention works so fine as the self-explanatory High Renaissance Jason, the relief of Julius Cæsar, the splendid bust of Beatrice d’Este (see for this family the Perugino, etc., upstairs), and the spirited bronze of Michael Angelo, lined with the lines of a thinker who has struggled and suffered.] Finally, sit long on the bench between the windows, and look well at theNymph of Fontainebleau, with stag and wild boar, by Benvenuto Cellini, the great Florentine metal-worker whom François Iercommissioned to produce this work for Fontainebleau. (But Henri II gave it instead to Diane de Poitiers, for her Château d’Anet.) Cellini’s work gave an immense impetus to French sculpture, and it is largely on his style that Jean Goujon and the great French sculptors we have shortly to examine formed their conceptions. Voluptuous and overlithe, this fine relief is a splendid example of its able, unscrupulous, deft-handed artist—seldom powerful or deep, yet always exquisite in tone and perfect in handicraft.
Now, in order to form a just conception of the rise of theFrench school of sculpture, traverse the Salle de Jean Goujon and the other rooms which succeed it, till you come to the last room of the suite—officially No. I—theSalle d’André Beauneveu. This vault-like hall contains works of theEarly French Schoolof the 13th, 14th, and 15th cent., still for the most part purely Gothic, and uninfluenced in any way by Italian models. Among them we notice, at the far end of the room, near the door which leads into the Egyptian Museum, several statuettesof Our Lady and Child, of a character with which Cluny has already made us acquainted. Invariably crowned and noble, they represent the Madonna as the Queen of Heaven, not the peasant of Bethlehem. This regal conception and, still more, the faint simper, are intensely French, and mark them off at once from most Italian Madonnas. Further on, by the end window, the figures of angels, of St. John Baptist, and of a nameless king, are also thoroughly French in character; while the dainty little Burgundian choir of angels, holding, as they sing, a scroll with a Gloria, is in type half German. Note also the numerousrecumbent effigies from tombs, among the best of which are those of Catherine d’Alençon and of Anne of Burgundy, Duchess of Bedford. The tombs at this end have still the stiff formality of the early Gothic period. The strange recumbent figure in the centre, supported by most funereal mourners (placed too low to be seen properly), is the tomb of Philippe Pot, Grand Seneschal of Burgundy under John the Good, from the Abbey of Citeaux. Such mourners are characteristic of the monumental art of Burgundy. One more occurs under a canopy near the middle window: you will recollect to have seen others (from the tomb of Philippe le Hardi) at Cluny. Further on in the room we get more Madonnas whose marked French type you will now be able to recognise. Good recumbent figures of a bishop, and of Philip VI, sufficiently described by the labels, and other excellent statues, one of the best of which is the child in the centre. The king and queen by the doorway are also fine examples of the art of the 15th cent. Notice the dates of all these figures, as given by the labels, and convince yourself from them (as you can do still more fully in the next room) that French art itself made adomestic advancefrom the 11th cent., onward, wholly independent of Italian influence. This advance was due in the main to national development, and to the slow recovery of trade and handicraft from the barbarian irruption. What was peculiar to Italy was the large survival of antique works, which the School of Pisa, and others after them, strove to imitate. In France, till François Ier, no such classical influence intervenes: the development is all home-made and organic. But if you contrast the busts by theWdoorway, or the tombstone of Pierre de Fayet,near them, with the ruder work by the first window in the next room, the reality of this advance will become at once apparent to you. The artists, though still hampered by tradition, are striving to attain higher perfection and greater truth to nature. Do not miss in this connection the excellent wooden Flagellation by the middle window: nor the Madonna opposite it; nor the donor and donatrix close by; nor the fine mutilated Annunciation (with lily between the figures) by theWwindow; nor the well-carved Nativity (clearly Flemish, however) near the seat by the doorway. In this last, observe the quaint head-dress of the donatrix in the background (an unusual position) as well as the conventional ox and ass, and the Three Kings approaching in the upper right-hand corner, balanced by the shepherds listening to the angels. St. Joseph’s candle is, however, a novelty. I merely note these points to show how much there may often be in seemingly unimportant objects. This is officially called an Adoration of the Shepherds, but if you look into it, you will see, erroneously. The person entering from behind is a mere modern spectator. Study well the works in this room and the next, regarded as astarting-point.
In thepassageleading into the next room are a truncated statue of St. Denis, from his Basilica (to be visited later), and, beyond it, a group of Hell from the same church. Notice the usual realistic jaws of death, vomiting flame and swallowing the wicked. Observe also that souls are always represented as nude. Opposite this, a mutilated fragment of St. Denis bearing his head, and accompanied by his two deacons, St. Rusticus and St. Eleutherius. I have not hitherto called attention to these two attendant deacons, but you will find them present in almost all representations of St. Denis. (Look for them among the paintings.) Try to build up your knowledge in this way, by adding point to point as you proceed, and afterwards returning to works earlier visited, which will gain fresh light by comparison with those seen during your more recent investigations.
Enter Room II:Salle du Moyen Age. Notice, first, the fragments by the window; those numbered 19 to 22 are good typical examples of the rude work of the Romanesque period (10th to 12th cents.). 23, beside them, shows the improvement which came in with the Gothic epoch, as well as the distinctiveGothic tone in execution,—softer, and rounder, with just a touch of foolish infantile simplicity or inanity. Observe all the other heads here, and compare their dates, as shown on the labels. Two beautiful angels, from the tomb of the brother of St. Louis, will indicate this gradual advance in execution, wholly anterior to any Renaissance influence. On theRside of the window, notice particularly an admirable head of the Virgin, 76, and another near it, from the cathedral of Sées. On the pillar, St. Denis bearing his head. Every one of these capitals and heads should be closely noted, with reference to the dates shown on the label. In the little Madonna on theLhand window, observe a nascent attempt to introduce an element of playfulness which is characteristically French. This increases later. It develops into the grace—the somewhat meretricious grace—of more recent French sculpture.
Now turn to the body of the room. R wall, 53, an excellent angel. Beyond it, the Preaching of St. Denis; observe that he is here attended by his two faithful deacons; the gateway indicates that he preaches at Paris. Such little side-indications are common in early art: look out for them. Above it, Christ in Hades, redeeming Adam and Eve, as the first fruits of the souls, from Limbo; the devil bound in chains on the ground beneath them; you saw several similar works at Cluny. Further on, another Madonna and Child, with the same attempt at playfulness; notice here Our Lady’s slight simper, a very French feature; the Child carries a goldfinch, which you will frequently find, if you look for it, in other representations, both French and Italian. The coloured relief of Pilate recalls those in the ambulatory at Notre-Dame. (Read in every case the date and place whence brought here.) Beneath it are the Flagellation, Bearing of the Cross, Crucifixion, and Entombment, which may be profitably compared with other examples.
(If, after observing the French type of Madonna in these rooms, and the few Burgundian works they contain, you have time to revisit the Mediæval Sculpture at Cluny—Room VI, ground floor—as I strongly advise you to do, you will find thatBurgundian artin the Middle Ages was quite distinct from French, and had types of its own, approximating to the Flemish, and still more to the German. This is well seen inthe Burgundian Madonna and St. Catherine at Cluny. For study of the style, it is a good plan to stop atDijonon your way to or from Switzerland.)
The end of the room is occupied by a Gothic doorway from a house in Valencia (Spain), which may be contrasted with the scarcely later Renaissance example from the Palazzo Stanga. On its top is an Annunciation, representations of which are frequent in similar situations; we saw one on the façade of St. Étienne du Mont; in such cases, the Madonna is almost always separated by some form of wall, door, or ornament from the angel Gabriel; here, the finial represents the usual pot of lilies. Below it, a very characteristic French Madonna, again slightly smirking, and with the Child bearing the goldfinch. Note once more the royal air, the affected ladylike manner, given to the Madonna in early French sculpture and painting. To itsL, a similar regal painted Madonna. To theR, gorgeous coloured statue of King Childebert, of the 13th cent.: this once stood at the entrance to the beautiful refectory of the Abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés (see later) which Childebert founded, and where the king was buried. L wall, fragment of a coloured stone relief, Judas receiving payment: of the same type as those in Notre-Dame. Further on, a similar Kiss of Judas. (Compare this with several specimens at Cluny.) The mutilated state of many of these fragments is in several instances due to the Revolution. All the other statues and fragments in this compartment should be carefully examined, including the strange scene from a Hell, and the stiff wooden Madonna, on pedestals in the centre. By the doorway, painted Virgin and Child,—the Madonna under a little canopy, and very typical of French conceptions.
Room III,Salle de Michel Colombe, represents theadvancemadein French plastic artduring the last half of the 15th cent., and the beginning of the 16th cent., in some cases independently of the Italian Renaissance. The bust of François Ier, in bronze, on a pedestal near the door, may be compared, both for spirit and likeness, with the (very wooden) contemporary portraits of the same king in the French School upstairs. It has all the stiffness and archaic fidelity of early portraiture, with the usual lack of artistic finish.Note such little points as that the king wears the collar of his order, with the St. Michael of France as a pendant. Near the window, fragments of work displaying Renaissance influence. One, a relief of the Return of the Master, from the Château de Gaillon (built by Cardinal d’Amboise, minister of Louis XII, and one of the great patrons of the Renaissance in France), exhibits the beginning of a taste for secular, domestic, and rustic subjects, which later became general. (Early work is all sacred—then comes mythical—lastly, human and contemporary.) Note on the opposite side, the fine bronze of Henri Blondel de Rocquencourt, under Henri II. The Apollo and Marsyas is strongly Renaissance—a mythic subject (see the Perugino upstairs). The Massacre of the Innocents exhibits Renaissance treatment of a scriptural scene. Thecentre of the roomis occupied by finebronzesof the school of Giovanni da Bologna, a Frenchman who worked in Italy and forms a link between the art of the two countries. Observe the decorative French slenderness and coquetry of form, combined with the influence of the Italian Renaissance. The Mercury—light and airy—is a replica of Giovanni da Bologna’s own famous statue in the Bargello at Florence. The Mercury and Psyché beside it is a splendid example of Giovanni da Bologna’s school, by Adrian de Vries. Notice the French tinge in the voluptuous treatment of the nude, and the slenderness and grace of the limbs. The bronze statue of Fame, from the tomb of the Duc d’Epernon, exhibits in a less degree the same characteristics. It is obviously suggested by Giovanni’s Mercury.
Along the wall to theL, the most noticeable work is the splendid**marble relief of St. George, by the great French sculptor Michel Colombe, produced for the chapel of the Château de Gaillon; recollect all these Gaillon objects, and their connection with one another: the château was erected under Louis XII, at the dawn of the French Renaissance, and much of its work, like this fine relief, shows a considerable surviving Gothic feeling. You will see the façade of the château later at the École des Beaux-Arts. It is interesting to compare this splendid piece of sculpture with the little Della Robbia in the Italian rooms, and the painting by Raphaelupstairs: the dragon here is a fearsome and very mediæval monster; but the St. George and his horse are full of life and spirit; and the fleeing Princess in the background is delicately French in attitude and conception. The dragon is biting the saint’s lance, which accounts for its broken condition in the Raphael and the Mantegna. Comparison of the various St. Georges in this collection, indeed, will give you an admirable idea of the way in which a single conventional theme, embracing always the very same elements, is modified by national character and by the individuality of the artist. To understand this is to have grasped art-history. (Note that the legend of St. George itself is in one aspect a Christianisation of the myth of Perseus and Andromeda.)
Beneath the St. George stands a fine Dead Christ, also exhibiting characteristic French treatment. The somewhat insipid but otherwise excellent Madonna and Child, on a pedestal close by, is admirable as exemplifying the transformation of the smirking Madonnas of the Middle Ages into the type of the Renaissance. The Death of the Virgin, near it, from St. Jacques-de-la-Boucherie (of which only the tower now remains), suggests to one’s mind the riches which must once have belonged to the demolished churches of Paris,—mostly, alas! destroyed at the great Revolution. Observe in this work the figures of the attendant apostles, the Renaissance architecture of the background, and the soul of the Madonna ascending above, escorted by angels, to heaven. More naïve, and somewhat in the earlier style, is the Nativity above it, flanked by the two St. Johns, the Baptist and the Evangelist. The tomb of Philippe de Commynes also illustrates the older feeling, as yet little influenced by the Italian irruption. Note that the works which betray the greatest Italian influence are chiefly connected with theroyalchâteaux and palaces of François Ierand his Italianate successors, or their wives and mistresses; thenationas yet is little touched by the new models.
The bronze tomb of Alberto Pio of Savoy, by Ponzio, on the other hand, exhibits strongly the Italian tendency, and should be compared with the earlier recumbent tombs, behind in Room I, as showing the survival of the mediæval type, transmutedand completely revivified. The same may be said of the tomb of Philippe de Chabot, which, however, is more distinctively French and much less markedly Italian. See how the early prostrate effigies become here recumbent: the figure, as it were, is trying to raise itself. In comparing the various works in this room, endeavour to note these interlacing points of resemblance and difference. The beautiful Genii above are parts of the same tomb, and are exquisite examples of the minor work of the French Renaissance. Passing the Italian Tacca’s admirable bust of Giovanni da Bologna, we come to an excellent Entombment, of the French School, from St. Eustache, which should be compared with earlier specimens in the adjacent rooms. Beneath it, a fine fragment by Jean Cousin. Still lower, a Passage of the Red Sea, beginning to display that confused composition and lack of unity or simplicity which spoiled the art of the later 16th and 17th centuries. The fine Madonna and Child close by should be compared with the very similar example opposite, as well as with its predecessors in other centuries. (Comparison of varying versions of thesametheme is always more instructive than that of different subjects.) The tomb of Abbot Jean de Cromois, with its Renaissance framework, shows a survival of earlier tendencies; as does also that of Roberte Legendre, though the figures of Faith and Hope (Charity is missing) are distinctly more recent in type than the recumbent effigy. Those who have time to notice and hunt up thecoats of armson the various tombs will often find they shed interesting light on their subjects. Observe also thechurchesfrom which these various monuments have been removed, a point which will fit in with your previous or subsequent knowledge of the buildings in many cases.
Thelast windowcontains a few works of theGerman School, which it is interesting to compare with their French contemporaries. Thus, the shrewd, pragmatical, diplomatic head of Frederick the Pacific, a coarse, cunning self-seeker, is excellently contrasted with the French portrait-busts. The little scene of the Holy Family, after Dürer, which should be closely studied, is essentially German in the domestic character of its carpenter’s shop, in the broad peasant faces of its Madonna and attendant angels, in the playful touches of theirreverent cherubs, and in the figure of the Almighty appearing in clouds at the summit of the composition. The Kiss of Judas, opposite it, is also characteristically German; notice the brutal soldiers, whose like we have seen in woodwork at Cluny: the bluff St. Peter with the sword is equally noteworthy; in the background are separate episodes, such as the Agony in the Garden; though officially ascribed to the French School, this is surely the work of a deft but unideal German artist. Do not neglect the many beautifuldecorative fragmentscollected in this room, nor the fine busts, mostly of a somewhat later period.
Now enter Room VIII, theSalle de Jean Goujon. The magnificent collection of works contained in this room embraces thefinest specimens of French Renaissance workof the school of the great artist whose name it bears, and of his equally gifted contemporary, Germain Pilon. They represent the plastic side of the School of Fontainebleau. In the centre is Jean Goujon’s**Huntress Diana, with her dogs and stag; it was probably executed for Diane de Poitiers, and comes from her Château d’Anet, presented to her by her royal lover. (Note all the works from the Château d’Anet, which is a destroyed museum of the art of the Renaissance.) Observe on the base the monogram of H. and D., which recurs on contemporary portions of the Louvre. The decorative lobsters and cray-fish on the pedestal should also be noted. Diana herself strikes the keynote of all succeeding French sculpture. Beautiful, coquettish, lithe of limb, and with the distinctive French elegance of pose, this figure nevertheless contains in it the germs of rapid decadence. It suggests the genesis of the 18th century, and of the common ormolu clock of commerce. Step into the next room and compare it with the Nymph of Fontainebleau, by Benvenuto Cellini. You will there see how far the Florentine artist approached the French, and how much the Frenchman borrowed from the Florentine. Walk round and observe on either side this the most triumphant work of the French Renaissance. Observe also its relations to the Diana of Versailles, in the Classical Gallery—brought to France by François Ier,—and its general debt to the antique, as well as to contemporary Italy.
Perhaps still more beautiful is the exquisite**group of the Three Graces, supporting an urn, by Germain Pilon, intended to contain the heart of Henry II, and commissioned by Catherine de Médicis. It once stood in the Church of the Celestines. Here again one sees the delicacy and refinement of the French Renaissance, with fewer marks of its inherent defects than in Jean Goujon’s statue. Sit long and study this exquisite trio—which the Celestines piously described as the Theological Virtues. Walk round it and observe the admirably natural way in which the figures are united by their hands in so seemingly artificial a position. The charming triangular pedestal is by the Florentine sculptor, Domenico del Barbiere.
The third object in the centre of the room is the exquisite group of the**Four Theological Virtues, in wood, also by Germain Pilon, which, till the Revolution, supported the reliquary containing the remains of Ste. Geneviève, in St. Étienne-du-Mont, and earlier still in the old church now replaced by the Panthéon. These are probably the finest figures ever executed in this difficult material. The faces and attitudes deserve from every side the closest study. If you have entered into the spirit of these three great groups in the centre of this room, you have succeeded in understanding the French Renaissance.
Now, begin at the further wall, in the body of the Salle, and observe, first, the exquisite reliefs of*Tritons and Nereids, with**Nymphs of the Seine, by Jean Goujon. Read the labels. We shall visit hereafter the Fountain of which these graceful and delicate reliefs once formed a portion. The Nymph to theLis one of the loveliest works ever produced by its sculptor, and is absolutely redolent of Renaissance spirit. It indicates the change which had come over French handicraft, under the influence of its Italian models, at the same time allowing the national spirit to shine through in a way which it never succeeded in doing in contemporary painting. Beneath it are two noble figures in bronze, from the tomb of Christopher de Thou, attributed to an almost equally great artist, Barthélemy Prieur. Frémin Roussel’s Genius of History still more markedly anticipates more recent French tendencies. It is intensely modern. Germain Pilon’s monumental bronze of René Birague preparesus for the faults of the French works of this style in the Louis XIV period. Mere grandiosity and ostentation are here foreshadowed. The centre of the next wall is occupied by Germain Pilon’s fine chimney-piece, with Jean Goujon’s bust of Henri II as its central object. The decorative Renaissance work on this mantel should be closely studied, as well as that—so vastly inferior—on the adjacent later columns of the age of Louis XIV. Barthélemy Prieur’s exquisite bronzes from the tomb of the Constable Anne de Montmorency also breathe a profoundly French spirit. The figures represent Justice, Courage, and Abundance. Germain Pilon’s too tearful Mater Dolorosa (painted terra-cotta) close by, from the Sainte Chapelle, indicates the beginnings of modern French taste in church furniture. His recumbent tomb of Valentine Balbiani, on the other hand, is admirable as portraiture; but the genius of the artist is only fully displayed in the repulsive figure of the same body seen emaciated in death and decomposition beneath it. Barthélemy Prieur’s recumbent figure of Anne de Montmorency shows survival of the older type, doubtless due to the prejudices of patrons.