ut the discoveries made with regard to man were not confined to the
spiritual characteristics of individuals and nations; his outward
appearance was in Italy the subject of an entirely different interest
from that shown in it by northern peoples.
Of the position held by the great Italian physicians with respect to
the progress of physiology, we cannot venture to speak; and the
artistic study of the human figure belongs, not to a work like the
present, but to the history of art. But something must here be said of
that universal education of the eye, which rendered the judgement of
the Italians as to bodily beauty or ugliness perfect and final.
On reading the Italian authors of that period attentively, we are
astounded at the keenness and accuracy with which outward features are
seized, and at the completeness with which personal appearance in
general is described. Even today the Italians, and especially the
Romans, have the art of sketching a man's picture in a couple of words.
This rapid apprehension of what is characteristic is an essential
condition for detecting and representing the beautiful. In poetry, it
is true, circumstantial description may be a fault, not a merit, since
a single feature, suggested by deep passion or insight, will often
awaken in the reader a far more powerful impression of the figure
described. Dante gives us nowhere a more splendid idea of his Beatrice
than where he only describes the influence which goes forth from her
upon all around. But here we have not to treat particularly of poetry,
which follows its own laws and pursues its own ends, but rather of the
general capacity to paint in words real or imaginary forms.
In this Boccaccio is a master--not in the 'Decameron,' where the
character of the tales forbids lengthy description, but in the
romances, where he is free to take his time. In his 'Ameto' he
describes a blonde and a brunette much as an artist a hundred years
later would have painted them--for here, too, culture long precedes
art. In the account of the brunette--or, strictly speaking, of the less
blonde of the two--there are touches which deserve to be called
classical. In the words 'la spaziosa testa e distesa' lies the feeling
for grander forms, which go beyond a graceful prettiness; the eyebrows
with him no longer resemble two bows, as in the Byzantine ideal, but a
single wavy line; the nose seems to have been meant to be aquiline; the
broad, full breast, the arms of moderate length, the effect of the
beautiful hand, as it lies on the purple mantle--all this foretells the
sense of beauty of a coming time, and unconsciously approaches to that
of classical antiquity. In other descriptions Boccaccio mentions a flat
(not medievally rounded) brow, a long, earnest, brown eye, and round,
not hollowed neck, as well as--in a very modern tone--the 'little feet'
and the 'two roguish eyes' of a black-haired nymph.
Whether the fifteenth century has left any written account of its ideal
of beauty, I am not able to say. The works of the painters and
sculptors do not render such an account as unnecessary as might appear
at first sight, since possibly, as opposed to their realism, a more
ideal type might have been favored and preserved by the writers. In the
sixteenth century Firenzuola came forward with his remarkable work on
female beauty. We must clearly distinguish in it what he had learned
from old authors or from artists, such as the fixing of proportions
according to the length of the head, and certain abstract conceptions.
What remains is his own genuine observation, illustrated with examples
of women and girls from Prato. As his little work is a kind of lecture,
delivered before the women of this city--that is to say, before very
severe critics--he must have kept pretty closely to the truth. His
principle is avowedly that of Zeuxis and of Lucian--to piece together
an ideal beauty out of a number of beautiful parts. He defines the
shades of color which occur in the hair and skin, and gives to the
'biondo' the preference, as the most beautiful color for the hair,
understanding by it a soft yellow, inclining to brown. He requires that
the hair should be thick, long, and locky; the forehead serene, and
twice as broad as high; the skin bright and clear (candida), but not of
a dead white (bianchezza); the eyebrows dark, silky, most strongly
marked in the middle, and shading off towards the ears and the nose;
the white of the eye faintly touched with blue, the iris not actually
black, though all the poets praise 'occhi neri' as a gift of Venus,
despite that even goddesses were known for their eyes of heavenly blue,
and that soft, joyous, brown eyes were admired by everybody. The eye
itself should be large and full and brought well forward; the lids
white, and marked with almost invisible tiny red veins; the lashes
neither too long, nor too thick, nor too dark. The hollow round the eye
should have the same color as the cheek. The ear, neither too large nor
too small, firmly and neatly fitted on, should show a stronger color in
the winding than in the even parts, with an edge of the transparent
ruddiness of the pomegranate. The temples must be white and even, and
for the most perfect beauty ought not to be too narrow. The red should
grow deeper as the cheek gets rounder. The nose, which chiefly
determines the value of the profile, must recede gently and uniformly
in the direction of the eyes; where the cartilage ceases, there may be
a slight elevation, but not so marked as to make the nose aquiline,
which is not pleasing in women; the lower part must be less strongly
colored than the ears, but not of a chilly whiteness, and the middle
partition above the lips lightly tinted with red. The mouth, our author
would have rather small, and neither projecting to a point, nor quite
flat, with the lips not too thin, and fitting neatly together; an
accidental opening, that is, when the woman is neither speaking nor
laughing, should not display more than six upper teeth. As delicacies
of detail, he mentions a dimple in the upper lip, a certain fullness of
the under lip, and a tempting smile in the left corner of the
mouth--and so on. The teeth should not be too small, regular, well marked off
from one another, and of the color of ivory; and the gums must not be
too dark or even like red velvet. The chin is to be round, neither
pointed nor curved outwards, and growing slightly red as it rises; its
glory is the dimple. The neck should be white and round and rather long
than short, with the hollow and the Adam's apple but faintly marked;
and the skin at every movement must show pleasing lines. The shoulders
he desires broad, and in the breadth of the bosom sees the first
condition of its beauty. No bone may be visible upon it, its fall and
swell must be gentle and gradual, its color 'candidissimo.' The leg
should be long and not too hard in the lower parts, but still not
without flesh on the shin, which must be provided with white, full
calves. He likes the foot small, but not bony, the instep (it seems)
high, and the color white as alabaster. The arms are to be white, and
in the upper parts tinted with red; in their consistence fleshy and
muscular, but still soft as those of Pallas, when she stood before the
shepherd on Mount Ida--in a word, ripe, fresh, and firm. The hand
should be white, especially towards the wrist, but large and plump,
feeling soft as silk, the rosy palm marked with a few, but distinct and
not intricate lines; the elevations in it should be not too great, the
space between thumb and forefinger brightly colored and without
wrinkles, the fingers long, delicate, and scarcely at all thinner
towards the tips, with nails clear, even, not too long nor to square,
and cut so as to show a white margin about the breadth of a knife's
back.
Aesthetic principles of a general character occupy a very subordinate
place to these particulars. The ultimate principles of beauty,
according to which the eye judges 'senza appello,' are for Firenzuola a
secret, as he frankly confesses; and his definitions of 'Leggiadria,'
'Grazia,' 'Aria,' 'Maesta,' 'Vaghezza,' 'Venusta,' are partly, as has
been remarked, philological, and partly vain attempts to utter the
unutterable. Laughter he prettily defines, probably following some old
author, as a radiance of the soul. The literature of all countries can,
at the close of the Middle Ages, show single attempts to lay down
theoretic principles of beauty; but no other work can be compared to
that of Firenzuola. Brantome, who came a good half-century later, is a
bungling critic by his side, because governed by lasciviousness and not
by a sense of beauty.