Tomb of Ilaria del Caretto
Lucca Cathedral
Reviewing our argument we find that by the last quarter of the fifteenth century the art of sculpture was in this position. A long series of remunerative public and private commissions had educated bands of sculptors of real talent in several Italian centres but particularly in Florence. Their work was held in such public esteem that they no longer regarded themselves as mere artizans. Moreover, while the sculptor had been making himself more and more capable of expressing the thoughts and emotions of his countrymen, they, for their part, were deepening and widening their experience. Not only had they come to realize the manifold beauties of nature, but they were learning man’s intimate relation with it. At the same time the revelation of what the Greeks had done and what Hellenic culture really meant was leading to an entirely new regard for mankind and a desire to cultivate the whole, as opposed to a mere fragment, of the human capital. In other words, while the sculptor was increasing his power of interpretation, thoughts of the highest value and emotions of real depth were being aroused. Comparing the sculpture of Ghiberti, Donatello, Quercia, della Robbia and the rest, with that of the Pisani a century earlier, it is seen that the essential difference depends upon the general adoption of a new philosophical standpoint. Previously, both the artist and his public viewed man from the heavens and found him a drowning mite in an ocean of divinity. Now both looked man in the face and recognized a brother, set for a time in the world to witness to the abiding beauty of the Eternal Reality. In the light of this conception, what had been negligible became of prime importance. The shameful became entirely satisfying.
The truth of this proposition is seen at once if we look at a few typical fifteenth-century works. Take, as the first instance, the beautiful tomb of “Ilaria del Carretto,” by Jacopo della Quercia (born 1374). It was erected about 1406. The young wife of Paolo Guinigi lies in simple garb upon the bier—the dog at her feet an emblem of womanly faithfulness. Comparing the work with, let us say, the Pisan Pulpit by Niccola Pisano, we are struck by the beautiful simplicity of the design. The over-crowded detail has vanished. Instead we have a scheme of monumental breadth. The difference in spirit is even greater. The nude children, with their wreaths of flowers, which decorate the bier, witness to the transition from the Gothic gloom to the Renaissance joy in the beauties of the natural world.
LUCA DELLA ROBBIA