begun in 1266, the year after Dante’s birth. It marks an epoch in the history of Italian sculpture—even more so than did that earlier one in the Baptistery of Pisa, when, in Carducci’s splendid phrase, the sculptor saw “the new and holy Venus of Italy” rise “from the Greek sepulchre of German bones.”[86] The sculptures of the pulpit at Pisa are imitated from Roman bas-reliefs and differ little from the work of Niccolò’s predecessors and contemporaries, save in their superior technical excellence; but here at Siena we recognise the working of a new spirit; side by side with this close study of antiquity, we have a direct return to natural models.[87] The pulpit is octagonal, supported by eight pillars at the angles, each second pillar resting upon a lion rending his prey, or a lioness giving suck to her young; a central pillar, resting on the pedestal, being adorned with eight figures representing arts and crafts. The capitals are beautifully worked with birds and foliage, and above them are figures of the Virtues, while above these again are symbolical figures between and uniting the scenes in the bas-reliefs. First comes a Sibyl, as announcing the great mystery among the Gentiles. Then we have the Visitation, Birth of the Baptist, Nativity of Christ, and Adoration of the Shepherds—with Niccolò’s favourite troop of goats, one of them leaping up to look at the Madonna, just as you may see one doing when a herd is driven over the bridge of Spoleto past the shrine. Next is a group of Prophets, followed by the Adoration of the Magi, a scene which contains some obvious and successful attempts at portraiture. At the next angle are the Madonna and Child, a very beautiful work which may rank as the first Italian masterpiece in this kind. After this the Presentation in the Temple, Joseph’s Dream, the Flight into Egypt are united in one history. A group of Angels is next, followed by the Massacre of the Innocents, full of movement and dramatic vigour. Then comes a symbolical representation of Christ as the Redeemer of the World; He is trampling upon two monsters, while a lion crouches at His feet (possibly a reference to Psalm xci. 13); above His head are the Dove, the empty Throne, the hand of the Father. The Crucifixion follows, and, after it, supporting the reading-desk, the symbols of the four Evangelists. Finally comes the Last Judgment in two divisions, Christ as Judge appearing in the midst, surrounded with Angels bearing the emblems and instruments of the Passion. It is the conventional mediaeval representation; the saved to the right of the Judge, with, highest of all, the Madonna in intercession; the lost to the left, with a hideous bestial Satan down in the lowest corner; the dead rising to judgment, the Angels severing the wicked from among the just. We find for the first time that dramatic motive which became traditional—the casting out of the hypocritical monk who had tried to insinuate himself among the just. Though the forms are still stunted, we find unmistakable signs of a new spirit of portraiture, and many of the heads are most admirable, though here and there facial expression degenerates into grimace. At the end of all are three Angels blowing the trumpets, as though to announce the accomplishment of the great mystery of Redemption that the Sibyl had foretold.

The steps and entrance to the pulpit were added in the latter part of the Cinquecento, designed by Bartolommeo Neroni. Against the two last pillars of the nave are the poles of the Carroccio of the Sienese at Montaperti. Beneath the cupola are gilded statues of Siena’s patrons with indifferent late fifteenth century frescoes. Until Baldassare Peruzzi altered the arrangement, the high altar stood here, under the cupola, with Duccio’s great picture—which is now in the Opera del Duomo—upon it. Thence six bronze Angels, by Francesco di Giorgio and Giovanni di Stefano, marshal us to the new high altar—designed by Peruzzi—upon which rests the famous bronze tabernacle, executed between 1465 and 1472, by Vecchietta. The two Angels against the pillars on either side of the altar are by Beccafumi, who practised casting in bronze in the latter part of his life. The frescoes in the niche behind the choir were originally by Beccafumi, painted in 1544, but have been completely repainted and altered; the Assumption is an unimportant Bolognese work. The other frescoes, representing the fall of Manna and the story of Esther, as also the two groups of Saints and Beati of Siena at the sides, were painted by Ventura Salimbeni, between 1608 and 1611. The choir stalls are partly the work of Fra Raffaello da Brescia in 1520, partly from the designs of Bartolommeo Neroni half a century later. The intarsia is the work of Fra Giovanni da Verona of 1503, the organ-loft over the sacristy was executed by the two Barili in 1511. There are several old Sienese paintings in the chapter-house beyond the sacristy, especially two of San Bernardino preaching in the Campo and in front of San Francesco. Above the choir there is a fine circular stained-glass window, representing the Death, Assumption, and Coronation of the Blessed Virgin, with the four Evangelists and four chief early patrons of Siena; it was executed by Giacomo di Castello in 1369, according to a document recently discovered in the Archivio dell’Opera del Duomo.[88]

The left aisle is mainly devoted to the honour and glory of the House of the Piccolomini. Enea Silvio Piccolomini held the bishopric from 1449 to 1458. After his elevation to the papacy he raised the See to an archbishopric, and until 1597 it was always in the hands of one of his own family. We have, in fact, a continuous series of Piccolomini Archbishops of Siena; Antonio Piccolomini, 1458 to 1459; Francesco di Nanni Todeschini, 1460 to 1501 (when he resigned), afterwards Pius III.; the two nephews of Pius III., Giovanni di Andrea Todeschini Piccolomini, 1501 to 1529, and Francesco di Salustio Bandini, 1529 to 1588; Ascanio di Enea Piccolomini, 1588 to 1597. After the third altar (from the entrance), over which is an Epiphany by Pietro Sorri which is almost Venetian in colour, is the monument of Alessandro Piccolomini, Archbishop of Patras and afterwards coadjutor to Archbishop Bandini; philosopher, poet, and dramatist, Alessandro is, unfortunately for his moral reputation, best known by his early Dialogo della Bella Creanza delle Donne, which in later life he retracted. The next altar, that of the Piccolomini, was ordered by the Cardinal Francesco di Nanni Todeschini, who, never contemplating the possibility of being destined to sit in the papal chair, and therefore to rest in the Eternal City, intended to be buried here, as the inscription on the steps states: “Francesco, Cardinal of Siena, whilst still living had this sepulchre made for himself”; and over the arch, as his sole title to fame, he has “Francesco Piccolomini, Cardinal of Siena, nephew of the Supreme Pontiff Pius II.” He was a good and learned man, who, as we have seen, played a pacific and moderating part in the turbulent politics of his native city; he was prematurely aged and utterly broken down in health when, on the death of the infamous Alexander VI., he was elected Pope in September 1503 (much to his own dismay) by a sort of compromise between the rival factions in the conclave, none of whom could secure the elevation of its own candidate, but all hoping that there was no prospect of him surviving the election very long. “God be thanked,” wrote the General of the Camaldolese, “that the government of the Church has been intrusted to such a man, who is so manifestly a storehouse of all virtues, and the abode of the Holy Spirit of God. Under his care the Lord’s vineyard will no more bring forth thorns and thistles, but will stretch out its fruitful branches to the ends of the earth.”[89] He took the name of Pius III., in memory of his uncle, and declared his intention of reforming the Church, beginning with the Pope and the Cardinals, and of restoring peace to Christendom. But the weight of the great mantle of popedom crushed him, and he died in the following month, “not deceiving,” writes Guicciardini cynically, “the hopes that had been formed at his election.” The altar is in the main the work of Andrea Fusina of Milan, and was begun in 1485. In 1501 Michelangelo undertook to make fifteen statues for the Cardinal, sua manu et opere. On the death of the Pope in 1503, he consigned four of these fifteen to his heirs—his brothers Giacomo and Andrea Todeschini Piccolomini—to the mutual satisfaction of both parties, and undertook to finish the eleven that remained to do within two years, unless prevented by accident or illness, or by the war concerning Pisa hindering the transport of marble from the mountains of Carrara to Florence. These four statues are apparently the four Saints in the niches on the outer framework of the altar, fine figures somewhat in the style of Donatello’s saints outside Or San Michele. Of the remaining eleven, the only one that Michelangelo ever executed is that placed on the top to the left—which is more in his later style. He was somewhat troubled in his mind on the subject in his old age. “Lionardo,” he wrote to his nephew, on September 20th, 1561, “I should like you to search among the papers of your father Lodovico, for the copy of a contract in forma camerae made concerning certain figures that I promised to continue for Pope Pius II. [sic] after his death; and because the said work, owing to certain differences, remained suspended about fifty years ago, and because I am old, I should like to settle the matter, in order that you may not be troubled about it unjustly after I am gone.” In another letter from Rome, on the last day of November, he tells him that the Archbishop of Siena has volunteered to put the thing right for him, “and because he is an excellent and skilful man, I believe that it will end satisfactorily.”[90] To the right of the altar is a Risen Christ, with two adoring Angels, over the monument to the Bandini raised by this Archbishop, Francesco Bandini Piccolomini; these figures are also, with some plausibility, ascribed to Michelangelo.

The great work in Siena of Pius III. is the famous Libreria, which he built as Cardinal for the books and MSS. that his uncle had left him. Probably realising that he had little time left him to live, he wished to erect this monument to his uncle’s memory, and indirectly to his own. Above the entrance at the end of the aisle is a fresco of his own elevation to the papacy, painted after his death and after the subsequent completion of the work, by Bernardino Pinturicchio. The Pope’s own figure is partly in relief; on either side of him are the Cardinal Giovanni Colonna, who has taken off his mitre, and the Cardinal Giovanni Antonio di San Giorgio, who is placing the papal tiara upon his head. The whole lacks composition, and there is little, if any, attempt at portraiture; but the crowd in the piazza includes some beautiful figures and well rendered motives. A youth in the foreground is evidently Raphael. Under the fresco are Francesco’s arms as Cardinal and as Pope. The marble work is by Lorenzo di Mariano, the admirable bronze doors were executed by Antonio Ormanni.[91]

On entering we are at once struck by the dazzling profusion of gold and colour, the splendid and opulent decorative effect of the whole. In the contract between “the most reverend Lord Cardinal of Siena” and “Messer Bernardino called Il Pinturicchio, painter of Perugia,” dated June 29th, 1502, “to paint a Library placed in the Duomo of Siena,” almost as much stress is laid upon the “gold, azure, ultramarine, enamel-blue, azure-greens and other pleasing colours” as upon the ten histories in which he has to paint “the life of the Holy Memory of Pope Pius.”[92] Francesco was probably led to intrust the work to Pinturicchio, rather than to a Sienese, because of the splendid work that he had just completed in the Vatican for the reigning Pontiff (who was hardly destined to leave a santa memoria), Alexander VI. The frescoes were begun in 1503, interrupted by the death of Francesco as Pius III. (he probably saw none of them), and resumed about the beginning of 1506.

The ten histories on the wall make up an ideal representation of the career of a hero of the Renaissance. We see Enea Silvio in the first scene, a youth riding a white horse, starting for Basle to seek his fortunes in the great world away from the petty turmoils of his little Italian republic, as secretary to the Cardinal Domenico Capranica, the dignified ecclesiastic who heads the cortège mounted upon a mule. In the background is the western side of the bay of Genoa, from which they made the journey by land to Basle. In the second, riper in years and in worldly wisdom (but less successfully realised by the painter) he is at Edinburgh before King James I. of Scotland, to whom he had been sent by his new employer, the powerful and influential Cardinal of Santa Croce, Niccolò d’Albergata, to persuade him to threaten the Border and so prevent our Henry VI. from interfering with the continental peace that had been concluded at Arras. This was in 1435. In the third, Enea Silvio has mounted a step higher in the social scale, being crowned poet laureate by the Emperor-elect, Frederick III., who made him one of his imperial secretaries in 1442. Hitherto there had been an antipapal tendency in the poet’s movements; he had been involved in the more or less schismatical Council, had been friendly with and on the point of entering the service of the Savoyard antipope Felix. But Frederick professed neutrality, and the next fresco, the fourth, shows us his astute secretary’s conversion to the papal side. We see him in Rome, in 1445, at the feet of Eugenius IV., to whom he had been sent as envoy by the Emperor or, as it would be more accurate to call him at this epoch, the King of the Romans. The two Cardinals in the foreground are said to be his two friends in the Sacred College, the Cardinal of Amiens and the Cardinal of Como, while the bearded prelate, the third on our left, is the famous platonist, Johannes Bessarion of Trebizond. This marks a turning point in Piccolomini’s career; he turned away from his pagan, licentious life to the study of theology, definitely entered the Church, and set before his eyes two great objects: the unity of Roman Catholicism, the rolling back of the tide of Turkish invasion.[93] There can be little question that hope of advancement was his chief motive in this conversion, but his after life as an ecclesiastic seems to show that the nobler spiritual impulse was not altogether lacking. “To him,” writes Dean Kitchin, “more than to any man is due the successful healing of the schism of the West.” In the next, the fifth fresco, which after the first is the most beautiful of the series, he is Bishop of Siena, presiding at the meeting of the Emperor and his bride Leonora of Portugal outside the Porta Camollia, on February 24th, 1452. Behind the Emperor stand Duke Albert of Austria and the young King Ladislaus of Hungary and Bohemia. We read that the Emperor showed considerable nervousness as he waited for his bride, whom he had never seen before. “At first,” writes Enea Silvio himself in his History of Frederick, “the Caesar turned pale, when he saw his bride coming in the distance. But when she drew near, and he beheld more and more her beautiful face and her royal bearing, he became himself again and his colour returned, and he waxed merry, for he found his lovely bride was even more lovely than report had made her, and he perceived that he had not been deceived by words, as often happens to princes who contract marriages by procurators.”[94] The fall of Constantinople in 1453 gave Bishop Enea the opportunity of coming forward as the champion of the cause of Christendom against the Moslem, the eloquent advocate of a new crusade. In the sixth history, he receives the Cardinal’s hat from Calixtus III. in 1456; two Greek prelates stand conspicuously in the foreground, while Bessarion appears again on our right; though not very like his authentic portrait by Pinturicchio in the Vatican, the Cardinal standing at the Pope’s right hand is probably intended for his abominable nephew Roderigo Borgia, afterwards Alexander VI., with whom Enea at this time was on friendly terms. Then, in the seventh, the hero has reached the goal of his earthly ambition, and becomes Pope Pius II. on September 3rd, 1458. He is being carried in procession to give his benediction to the City and the World, while the Master of the Ceremonies burns a piece of tow before him, with the traditional warning: Sancte Pater, sic transit gloria mundi. Two Orientals are there to represent the Eastern Question, that the new Pontiff had made his own. The eighth fresco represents the opening of Congress of Mantua, in 1459, where Pius in vain strove to rouse the powers of Christendom to concerted action; as the fresco appropriately lets us perceive, the Pope himself and the suppliant Christians of the East are the only people in earnest in the matter. Then, in the ninth, he gratifies alike his national pride for the glory of Siena and his own heart by the canonisation of St Catherine, whose crusading zeal had anticipated his own. There is an interesting group of portraits below on our left, the two most conspicuous figures being Raphael and Pinturicchio himself, holding lighted tapers, while the two beyond Pinturicchio, with their backs turned to us, are probably his assistants, Eusebio di San Giorgio and Bembo Romano. Last of all, in the tenth fresco, Pius is at Ancona, come to head the crusade. He was dying, kept alive only by his indomitable enthusiasm, when he reached the city in July 1464, only to find that there were none to support him. In August the fleet of Venice appeared upon the scene. The Pope was then on his death-bed; but the painter, departing from historical fact, has represented him carried down to the harbour to meet the Doge, Cristofero Moro, who is shown kneeling

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

Queen’s feet kneel Siena’s sainted patrons: Crescentius and Victor, Savinus and Ansanus. And their prayer is the painter’s own, that he has inscribed upon the base of the throne: “Holy Mother of God, be Thou the cause of rest to Siena, be life to Duccio because he has painted Thee thus.” The original back of this panel represents the Passion of Christ in twenty-six scenes, from the entry into Jerusalem to the Noli me tangere and the appearing to the two on the way to Emmaus. There are, further, eighteen separate scenes of different shapes and sizes, originally forming part of the whole (including the gradino, back and front), of different episodes from the lives of Christ and the Madonna. No more perfect illustration of these sacred histories, from the point of view of mediaeval tradition, has ever been painted. Duccio anticipates Raphael, in that side of his achievement in which the great master of Urbino, by the illustration that (with his followers) he supplied to religious history and legend, “has given an Hellenic garb to the Hebraic universe.”[98] But he is almost untouched by the new spirit that was manifesting itself in Giotto’s panels and frescoes. “Duccio,” says Mr Berenson, “properly regarded, is the last of the great artists of antiquity, in contrast to Giotto, who was the first of the moderns.”[99]

There are also in this gallery: St Paul enthroned, his conversion and martyrdom being seen in the background, by Beccafumi; St Jerome, by Giovanni di Paolo; the legend of the Finding of the Cross by St Helena and its recovery from the Persians by Heraclius, by Pietro Lorenzetti; four Saints (69, 70, 72, 73) by Ambrogio Lorenzetti; a predella by Matteo di Giovanni; the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin (63), an admirable picture by Pietro Lorenzetti, signed and dated 1342; a Madonna and Child with Saints (64), by Matteo di Giovanni; St Antony of Padua (14), by Matteo Balducci; the apparition of St Francis to St Antony (62), by Giovanni di Paolo; nine scenes illustrating the Credo, by Taddeo di Bartolo; a quaint Madonna lactante, with Angel Musicians (59), by Gregorio da Siena, of 1323. Here also is preserved the episcopal ring of Pius II. In the further portion of the hall are embroidered vestments and other articles of church furniture. A door at the end admits you into the unfinished façade. A series of narrow winding stairs leads up to the very top of it, with a superb view of Siena and the country round.

Under the Duomo to the east is the Baptistery, San Giovanni di Siena, a construction of the same epoch as the Cathedral itself. The façade was begun in 1317, modified in 1382 from the design of Giacomo di Mino del Pellicciaio, but left unfinished. On the pavement in front of the three doors are three scenes in graffito representing the birth of a child, the sacrament of Baptism, the administration of Confirmation; they were laid down in the middle of the fifteenth century, the one in the centre (the Baptism) being designed and executed by Antonio Federighi. The interior has been completely restored. The Baptismal Font, which includes a tabernacle for preserving the holy oils, is one of the earliest masterpieces of the sculptural art of the Quattrocento, showing, in its architectural details, the transition from the Gothic to the style of the early Renaissance. The design of the whole is due to Giacomo della Quercia, the marble work being executed by his pupils. On the six sides of the font are six bronze bas-reliefs, representing scenes in the life of the Baptist, separated by six niches enshrining bronze figures of the Virtues. In 1417 the Operaio of the Duomo assigned two of these six bas-reliefs to Giacomo della Quercia, two to Turino di Sano and his son Giovanni, two to the great Florentine Lorenzo Ghiberti—the fame of whose nearly completed bronze door (the first of the two that he cast) was then ringing through Tuscany. Giacomo della Quercia showing himself tardy and preoccupied as usual with other commissions, one of his two histories was assigned to Donatello instead, in 1421. By 1427 the series was complete, and the Signoria forced Giacomo to return from Bologna, at the instance of the authorities of the Duomo, in the following year to bring the whole work to an end, which was done by 1434.[100] The histories begin opposite the altar. The Apparition of the Angel to Zaccharias in the Temple is by Giacomo della Quercia, a fine example of the simplicity of means with which the great sculptor of Siena obtains his effects, with no unnecessary figures, disregarding all but what is essential. The Justice and Prudence on either side of it, as also the Birth of the Precursor and the Preaching in the Wilderness, are by the two Turini—the bas-reliefs being excellent works, fully worthy of their place in the series. The Fortitude between them is four years later, having been cast in 1431 by Goro di Neroccio. The following statue, Charity, is by Turino. The Baptism of Christ and John before Herod are both by Lorenzo Ghiberti, finished in 1427. These two admirable reliefs, as M. Reymond observes, represent the transition from the style of Ghiberti’s first bronze door in Florence to that of his second, the disposition of the figures and the absence of perspective in the scene before Herod resembling the style of the first door, while the group of Angels attending upon the Saviour in the Baptism heralds the triumph of that second door which Michelangelo was to declare worthy to be the portal of Paradise. The beautiful, expressive figures of Faith and Hope are Donatello’s. By Donatello, too, is Herod’s Feast, a masterpiece full of energy and dramatic expression. Although both Ghiberti and Donatello dispose their figures on different planes so as to give the bas-relief the appearance of a picture in bronze, their methods show one notable point of contrast; Ghiberti gains depth by detaching his front figures almost in full relief, while Donatello produces a similar effect more by effacing those in the distance.[101] The four charming little putti in bronze upon the tabernacle, “certi fanciullini ignudi,” as the record of payment styles them, are also by Donatello. The five marble figures in the niches of the tabernacle are by Pietro del Minella, the bronze Madonna and Child by Giovanni di Turino. The statue of the Baptist surmounting the whole was probably designed by Giacomo and executed by Pietro del Minella.

The frescoes of the Baptistery for the most part belong to the middle of the fifteenth century. The three miracles of St Antony of Padua under the arch to the left of the chief altar, the Articles of the Creed in the vaulting, are by Vecchietta who began to paint here in 1450, and was assisted in 1453 by his young pupil, Benvenuto di Giovanni. The paintings behind the chief altar, representing the Annunciation, the Passion, the Assumption, appear to be by a certain Michele Lambertini of Bologna, a few years earlier. The Christ in the house of Simon, under the arch to the right, was painted in 1489 by Pietro di Francesco degli Oriuoli, a Sienese artist of much reputation in his day, who died in 1496.[102]

CHAPTER VII

In the Footsteps of St Catherine

Thus open the Statutes of 1305 of the famous Spedale of Siena, the united hospitals of Santa Maria della Scala. The buildings occupy the whole side of the Piazza del Duomo opposite the façade. According to the legends, the Spedale was founded at the end of the ninth century by a cobbler named Sorore, who began by lodging pilgrims who passed through Siena on their way to Rome, and mending their shoes, then nursing those of their number who fell sick by the way, and ended by founding a sort of order or company of men—the “Frati Ospitalieri”—to carry on his work. Thus began the hospital for the sick; while a dream of a devout woman, who saw upon this spot a ladder reaching up to Heaven, and little children passing up it into the arms of the Blessed Virgin, caused a home for foundlings to be united to it. Modern writers, however, question the existence of the Beato Sorore, and assign the foundation of the Spedale to the eleventh century.[103] Be that as it may, throughout the whole course of Sienese history the Spedale has a sublime record of devotion and charity, especially in those terrible epochs—that recurred again and again at intervals—when the pestilence and black death devastated Siena. Its revenues were largely increased by donations from the Bishops, by papal commutations of vows, and by bequests from victims of the pestilence who, having lost their natural heirs, bequeathed all that they had to the institution. The order of the “Frati Ospitalieri” was reformed in the thirteenth, and lasted on till the end of the sixteenth century. The Rector of the Spedale, in the days of the Republic, had the right of sitting in the Consistory with the Signoria.

Beyond the entrance-hall is a large room known as the Pellegrinaio, because originally intended for the reception of pilgrims, with a pleasant view from the window at the end. The walls and ceiling are covered with frescoes—those on the walls being practically unique in the story of Sienese art. They represent scenes from the history and illustrate the work of the Spedale. On the right are three by Domenico di Bartolo. They represent the marrying of the maidens, with the Baptism of the children and their nursing (1440); the giving of alms (1443); the care of the sick and diseased (1440). We are struck at once by their realism, which we shall find nowhere else in Sienese painting; some of the heads are powerful, there is excellent grouping and a study of Sienese costumes in the Quattrocento which is of no small value to the student. But withal there is a certain uncouthness, at times exaggerated to the verge of grotesqueness. The painter is following the Florentine methods, but is not fully equipped with Florentine science; the nude figure which we see in the foreground of the second fresco is a striking innovation in a Sienese picture, but it will not stand the comparison—which it inevitably invites—with the naked youths in Masaccio’s famous scene of St Peter baptising in the Carmine of Florence. The two frescoes on either side of the window are unimportant. Then, on the left wall, is another by Domenico di Bartolo (1443), fairly well preserved, representing the granting of privileges to the Spedale, in the person of its Rector, by Celestine III.; a magnificent young Sienese gentleman in the costume of the fifteenth century stands in the centre of the picture. The next fresco, the entry into the Spedale and a lady of Siena taking the robe of the order, is by Priamo di Pietro della Quercia, the brother of the more famous Giacomo; it is somewhat in the style of Domenico, but with more than his uncouthness and falling a long way below his excellence. Following that, by Domenico di Bartolo, badly preserved, is the increase of the buildings of the Spedale with alms given by the Bishop, the group of horsemen approaching, and nearly riding down the builder, being presumably fresh benefactors inspired by the episcopal example. The fresco over the door on the left is by Vecchietta and represents the “Scala del Paradiso,” the dream of the devout woman, in which the little deserted children are seen mounting up the ladder to be received into the arms of the Mother of God.

There are other frescoes of less importance in other parts of the Spedale. In the room on the left of the entrance is a fresco by Beccafumi, one of his early works, painted in 1512, representing the meeting of Joachim and Anne. The Infirmary of San Pietro has unimportant frescoes by Vecchietta, and (inclosed in a tabernacle) the “Madonna of Mercy,” by Domenico di Bartolo. In the Infirmary of San Pio a “Beato Sorore” is likewise ascribed to Domenico, and in the Infirmary of San Galgano is a Crucifixion by Taddeo di Bartolo. The church of the Spedale, dedicated to the Madonna of the Annunciation, was built in the fifteenth century. The bronze Christ over the high altar is by Vecchietta; the organ is said to have been designed by Peruzzi.

In the vaults under the Spedale are the meeting-places of several devout confraternities, which are said to trace their origin from the first Sienese Christians, the converts of St Ansanus, who met in secret on this spot in the days of the Roman persecutions. You enter by the last door in the Piazza. The chapel of Santa Maria sotto le Volte dello Spedale, now sometimes called Santa Caterina delle Notti, was the oratory of the “Disciplinati of the Virgin Mary of the Spedale.” St Catherine was intimately associated with this confraternity, which was conspicuous for its active works of charity, and to which a number of her disciples belonged. One of her latest letters was written from Rome to the Prior and Brothers of the Company.[104] It was whilst praying here in 1380 that Stefano Maconi heard a voice in his heart telling him that Catherine was dying, and he at once hastened to Rome to receive her last injunctions. In a little cell, adjoining the oratory, St Catherine passed long hours in prayer, and from it she assisted at the offices of the Disciplinati. Here is still shown the hard bed of stone upon which she slept, in the intervals of tending the sick at the hospital. In a room beyond, belonging to the confraternity of St Catherine, are some pictures; a Madonna and Child with Saints by Taddeo di Bartolo, and four small paintings, much restored, in the manner of Girolamo del Pacchia. One of the latter represents the members of the confraternity dressed as you may still see them at the door of St Catherine’s house on the day of her festa. Before reaching the oratory, another flight of steps to the left leads down to the meeting-place of the Confraternity of the Madonna. Here are a number of pictures, including a Holy Family by Bazzi; St Catherine leading Pope Gregory back to Rome (though, as a matter of fact, she was present only in spirit) by Benvenuto di Giovanni; a Madonna and Child with Saints by Sano di Pietro. Hung very high up are two small triptychs—the one representing the Crucifixion, Flagellation, Entombment—the other the Blessed Virgin with the two Catherines and other Saints. Mr Berenson ascribes them to Duccio and Fungai respectively. Beyond is the chapel of the confraternity, with remains of frescoes by some pupil of Ambrogio Lorenzetti.

San Bernardino commenced his religious life as a member of this confraternity of Our Lady’s Disciplinati. When the pestilence broke out anew in 1400, and the Spedale was overwhelmed with the sick and the dying, Bernardino collected a band of young men to aid the Rector in his task, and devoted himself to the plague-stricken for four months, while his cousin, Tobia, attended to the women.

From the back of the Spedale the Via di Valle Piatta leads to the little church of San Sebastiano, the oratory of the Contrada della Selva. Its interior is in the form of a Greek cross. It was built by Girolamo di Domenico Ponsi, at the end of the fifteenth century, and its sacristy contains Madonnas by Matteo di Giovanni and Benvenuto. The adjoining convent, originally of the Gesuate, has since 1818 been the Foundling Hospital—Ospizio dei Gettatelli.

From the Via di Valle Piatta the steep Via del Costone winds down the side of the hill upon which the Duomo and Spedale stand, to the Fontebranda. Let us take this way into the valley—for we shall be

treading in the steps of St Catherine. Here, in her sixth year, she was returning with her brother from a visit to their sister Bonaventura, whose husband had a house near the Tower of St Ansanus, and had reached the turning at which the great red brick mass of San Domenico first becomes fully visible—rising up grandly on the brow of the opposite hill, over the humble valley of the tanners and dyers. A shrine and a faded fresco on the left at the corner still mark the spot of her first vision. “She saw in the air, above the church of the Friars Preachers of Siena, our Saviour seated on a wondrous throne, robed as Sovereign Pontiff, accompanied by the Holy Apostles. He gazed lovingly and smilingly upon her, and with His holy hand making the sign towards her of the most holy Cross, He blessed her.”[105]

At the foot of the hill is the famous Fontebranda, with its colonnade of three arches and its four lions’ heads. Although the first certain mention of it is in a document of 1081, and in its present form it only dates from the middle of the thirteenth century, the fountain has been famous throughout Tuscany from time immemorial. Possibly, when Siena was the Roman colony of the Sena Julia, the soldiery of the legions drank from its waters; before them, the fair-haired Senonian Gauls—if we accept that form of the legend of the foundation of the city—may have lingered a moment by it as they followed Brennus in his march to Rome. It hardly needs the adventitious fame that has accrued to it from the supposition—stated as a fact by the earliest commentators, but at present generally rejected by scholars—that it is the Fonte Branda recorded by Dante in the thirtieth canto of the Inferno, for whose waters, even to cool the burning thirst of Hell’s foulest circle, Maestro Adamo would not have given the sight of his aristocratic seducers sharing his agony. There is a curious tradition that certain streets of Siena were—or possibly still are—infested by were-wolves, who rush through the city at night, and throw themselves into Fontebranda to recover human form.[106] Be that as it may, Fontebranda gives its name to the whole of the picturesque district—“il Rione di Fontebranda”—below the two hills upon which the Duomo and San Domenico respectively stand. The valley is still, as in St Catherine’s days, the haunt of the tanners and the dyers, and redolent of that peculiar odour of the curing of hides that ever after haunts the lover of Siena.

The steep Via Benincasa—once the Via de’ Tintori—leads up from Fontebranda into the town. It is the headquarters of the most typical and vivacious of the Sienese contrade—the “Nobile Contrada dell’Oca.” A few houses up the street, on the left, is a graceful building in the style of the early Renaissance, which now occupies the site of the house of Giacomo Benincasa: the Oratorio di Santa Caterina in Fontebranda. “Many from beyond the mountains,” so runs an entry in the Libro dei decreti di Concistoro, at the time when Catherine’s canonisation was in progress at Rome, “French, Venetians, Romans and of other nations who have come to your city, have with great diligence asked for the house where dwelt in your city the blessed Catherine of Siena; and they have gone to it with great reverence and devotion, kneeling down in many places and kissing the walls and the door, saying with many tears: Here she stood and touched, that precious vessel and gift of God, blessed Catherine of Siena, who in her life did so many miracles. And many have wondered that the Commune of Siena in that place has not made some temple to the praise of God and honour of that Spouse of Christ.”[107] The house had passed through many hands since the death of St Catherine (who, during the latter part of her life, lived with her mother in another house in the present Via Romana), and was then in a ruinous condition, as the document just quoted goes on to state. But in 1464 the inhabitants of the Costa Fontebranda petitioned the Signoria to buy the house, offering themselves to pay all the rest of the expenses for the building and adornment of the chapel or oratory, “the which they are disposed to do in such form and so well adorned, that it will be to the honour of God and St Catherine of Siena and of your Magnificent Signory, and the consolation of all your city.” The oratory was begun in the same year and finished in 1473, after several appeals from the Esecutori di Gabella to the Signoria for aid in money. In one of these, they remind the Signoria that “it pertains to the Republic to study that spiritual devotions and divine temples should increase in the city; especially in yours, because of the celestial gift of the sweetest liberty which we enjoy among very few cities in the world.” And in another they set forth that, with the aid of their Magnificent Lordships, the oratory has been built, “which has been a thing very devout and honourable, especially by reason of the great concourse of citizens and strangers who go there on the days of her feast”; but that they need some more things to make it complete—such as a picture for the altar, candlesticks, an image of the Saint in high relief, and a sacristy—for which they want three hundred gold florins.[108]

The lower chapel—now the church of the Contrada—is the one referred to in these documents, the upper oratories being the result of later acts of devotion. It is uncertain who was the architect; a certain Francesco di Duccio del Guasta, as well as Antonio Federighi and other masters, seems to have had a hand in it. Over the door is a relief of St Catherine with Angels—an unworthy work by Urbano da Cortona—and on the façade are the four shields: the Libertas and the balzana between the Lion of the People and the Goose of the Contrada. The church was the workshop of Giacomo Benincasa and his sons. Over the altar is a statue in coloured wood of their glorious daughter and sister, by