It’s uplifting to spend the morning on Via del Proconsolo, perhaps after a legal matter in Piazza San Firenze, and be able to greet, through the window that replaces the wall facing the street, the marvelous sculptures of the 16th century in the so-called Michelangelo Room at the Bargello Museum. So much so that sometimes the urge to enter and immerse oneself in the atmosphere of medieval Florence becomes irresistible, masterfully recreated in the courtyard of the palace by the skilled genius of Francesco Mazzei in the mid-19th century.
The staircase, the beautiful loggia, the coats of arms of the podestà, judges, and citizen corporations that adorn the walls and accompany the six sculptures by Ammannati for a monumental fountain originally placed in the Salone dei Cinquecento in Palazzo Vecchio, on the east side of the palace. This includes Niccolò Lamberti’s San Luca (1406), removed from its niche in Orsanmichele, and Vincenzo Gemito’s charming and disdainful Pescatorello, a masterpiece of Neapolitan art from 1877.
The Michelangelo Room, visible from the outside, is adjacent to the courtyard and is nothing less than a paradise for lovers of Florentine 16th-century sculpture. Numerous masterpieces by Michelangelo, Giambologna, Benvenuto Cellini, Vincenzo Danti, Jacopo Sansovino, and Baccio Bandinelli are gathered here. Noteworthy is Michelangelo’s Bacchus (1496-97), commissioned by Cardinal Riario in Rome but later rejected. Perhaps the cardinal didn’t appreciate the unconventional Bacchus, raising a large chalice and seemingly not standing firmly but leaning on a small centaur. Ascanio Condivi, Michelangelo’s biographer, described Bacchus: “a cheerful face and sly and lascivious eyes, as those who are excessively taken with the love of wine usually have.” Perhaps something not suitable for a cardinal. In contrast, Jacopo Sansovino’s Bacchus (1510) advances lightly, joyfully, and elegantly. However, Sansovino couldn’t resist referencing Michelangelo in that centaur he portrayed with the ancient god. On the right is Michelangelo’s David-Apollo, which, according to Vasari, is the Greek god depicted drawing an arrow from the quiver. Still, in an inventory, it seems to be identified as the biblical hero David, perhaps due to the rock underfoot, which could be the roughed-out head of the giant Goliath. Among the many wonders in the room, Giambologna’s Mercury is notable for its elegant lines, fitting for Jupiter’s messenger running up and down from Olympus to Earth, conveying the stern orders of his august father. In fact, he is depicted with wings on his feet and hat, called a “pètaso.” In his right hand, Mercury carries the “caduceus,” a thin straight rod with two entwined serpents, symbolizing peace. Mercury is also the peacemaker god of disputes, therefore revered by merchants and lawyers who need to persuade people.
Back in the courtyard, the staircase leads to the upper loggia, where other 16th-century sculptures are displayed, including Giambologna’s Architecture and his curious bronzes that reproduce animals in minute detail: the peahen, eagle, owl, barn owl, and even the turkey, one of the first depictions of this exotic American bird. It must have been astonishing to see them placed in the grotto with water features in the Medici Villa di Castello, just outside the city, for which they were designed.
From here, you enter the solemn and monumental Hall of the General Council or Donatello Room, where many works by this artist are displayed, such as the Marzocco, the city’s symbol lion, an original copy outside Palazzo Vecchio. There’s also the Atys-Amor, a winged Cupid trampling a snake, challenging to decipher, and the St. George, removed with its niche from the facade of Orsanmichele and replaced by a copy. Beautiful is Donatello’s bronze David (1440), depicted unusually, entirely different from Michelangelo’s famous one. It’s an unarmed youth, lacking any heroic appearance, but faithful to the biblical story, manages to kill the giant Goliath not due to his physical prowess but because “God was with him.” Having just killed Goliath, he rests his feet on a sphere, probably indicating that fate is changeable. Once power is conquered, it doesn’t necessarily mean it can be maintained. Hence, a warning to Cosimo the Elder, who commissioned it for himself: power is not acquired; good fortune comes and goes, rolling like a sphere, and strength comes from God’s presence in us, so great that a youth, a “puer,” can kill a giant.
In the same room are two panels by Ghiberti and Brunelleschi representing The Sacrifice of Isaac, presented at the 1401 competition for the second door of the Baptistery. Ghiberti, with his more classical panel in line with the taste of the time, won the competition, surpassing his colleague’s more innovative and dramatically charged rendition of the story. Also to be admired in this room are the two busts by Desiderio da Settignano, of a young boy and gentlewoman in their delicate gentleness.
On the first floor, the rooms continue with artifacts from Arab culture, ivory, majolica, and the chapel of St. Mary Magdalene frescoed by Giotto’s workshop with a portrait of Dante that many believe to be by the hand of Giotto himself.
On the second floor of the palace is the armory containing remnants of the Medici and Urbino armories and weapons from donations. There’s the room of Andrea Della Robbia, injecting joy with all the colors of the glazed terracotta from the master’s famous workshop. The room of small bronzes includes Antonio Pollaiolo’s Hercules Bursting Antaeus and Benvenuto Cellini’s Ganymede. The former represents the moment when Hercules takes the mortal grip of his arms on the giant Antaeus, who draws his strength from contact with the earth, to remove all resources and suffocate him. The latter depicts the beautiful youth Ganymede at the moment he is abducted by Zeus, in the form of an eagle, unable to resist his beauty. The Verrocchio room is very beautiful, with notable pieces such as the recently restored David, very different from Donatello’s, and the Lady with the Bouquet, a celebrated marble for its delicate and expressive hands and the various extremely light layers of the dress rendered in meticulous detail. The last room, that of the medals, closed for thirty years after the theft of a Pisanello medal in 1930, houses 1000 specimens. These are mostly commemorative coins of important figures, buildings, or events: a small gallery of portraits and images of the city through the centuries.
