Trident and Oar in Bronzino’s Portrait of Andrea

JOSEPH ELIAV, Tel Aviv University / University of Haifa

Previously unpublished X-ray images prove that in the portrait commissioned for Giovio’s museum, Bronzino painted holding an oar, not a trident. The article interprets the portrait in its original form. Examination of the portrait together with the eulogy Giovio attached to it shows that Doria is painted as Odysseus, not as Neptune, and explains the incongruous oar. Erotic insin- uations in the portrait suggest that, like Bronzino’s burlesque poetry, it has a hidden meaning. Further analysis in the context of Giovio’s historiography and a precise dating unveil a meaning that criticizes Doria’s incompetence in a recent crucial naval battle.

INTRODUCTION IN THE ALLEGORICAL portrait of Andrea Doria (1466–1560) by Agnolo di Cosimo, known as Bronzino (1503–72), the Genovese admiral is standing in the nude onboard a ship holding a trident; he is obviously in the guise of the god of the sea and therefore the painting, now in the Pinacoteca di Brera in Milan, is appropriately known as Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune (fig. 1). However, according to a hypothesis accepted with no contention in the research literature, Bronzino painted Doria holding an oar and the trident is a modification effected at a later time;1 and yet, interpretations of the portrait refer mainly to its present form, whereas attempts to understand it in the original form, with the oar, are tentative and inconclusive. The oar hypothesis has, up until now, rested on indirect evidence that is plausible but open to doubt and based on the report of a visual observation that will be shown here to be a simple mistake; and yet the hypothesis is correct in spite of the weak evidence. Previously unpublished X-ray and IR images from the archives of the Pinacoteca di Brera prove that Bronzino indeed painted Doria holding an oar. With the oar a proven fact and no longer a hypothesis, the main objective is to understand the painting in its original form. As

1 For an overview of the painting, see Brock, 178–82; Costamagna, 2010.

Renaissance Quarterly 73 (2020): 775–820 © The Author(s) 2020. Published by the Renaissance Society of America. doi: 10.1017/rqx.2020.119

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 776RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Figure 1. Agnolo Bronzino. Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, ca. 1532–45. Oil on canvas, 115 x 83 cm. Courtesy of the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

currently displayed in the Brera the portrait is self-explanatory, but because the oar is an entirely inadequate attribute both for Neptune and for the person pre- sumably portrayed in his guise, this painting in its original form eludes interpretation. Bronzino painted this portrait for Paolo Giovio’s (1483–1552) museum of illustrious persons, where each person was represented by a portrait and a text, a sort of long caption, attached to the wall beneath it. Analysis of Doria’s portrait together with the text that Giovio attached to it explains the meaning of the oar and presents a new interpretation of the painting, but that is only an outer layer. FurtheranalysisofthecombinedexhibitinthewidercontextofBronzino’s poetry and Giovio’s historical writing reveals that the portrait has an inner layer as well, that it conveys censure disguised as praise. Examination of the

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 777

circumstances and timing of the portrait’s commission leads to the motives for its dual meaning.

THE PROTAGONISTS Andrea Doria was more than seventy years old and the foremost naval com- mander on the Christian side of the ongoing conflict with the in the Mediterranean when Bronzino painted his portrait. At the age of fifty, after some thirty years of service as a mercenary and with no naval expe- rience, Doria had acquired a small private fleet of warships and embarked on a new career as a naval condottiere (mercenary contractor).2 In a few years his fleet grew to become the fourth largest in the Mediterranean; only the Ottoman Empire, the Habsburg Empire, and the had larger fleets. Doria offered the services of his fleet and his own services as admiral to the highest bidder. In that capacity he served alternately King (r. 1515– 47) and Pope Clement VII (r. 1523–34) against their common enemy, Emperor Charles V (r. 1519–54). In 1528, soon after the Sack of Rome by imperial troops, Doria switched sides to become chief admiral of the emperor’s Mediterranean navy. In his new status Doria advanced, so to speak, from involvement in skir- mishes among Christian powers over control of pieces of to the forefront of the conflict between the two major powers of his time, the Habsburg Empire under Charles V and the Ottoman Empire under Suleiman the Magnificent (r. 1520–66). His counterpart on the Ottoman side was Khair ad-Din, known as Barbarossa (1478–1546).3 In 1535 Doria commanded the emperor’snavyin the campaign against Khair ad-Din in . On land, the emperor’s army con- quered Tunis and therefore the operation was acclaimed as a success, but it was a short-lived and inconsequential one. At sea Khair ad-Din outsmarted Doria and retreated with his entire fleet intact. Doria was again in command of the fleet in the emperor’s disastrous attempt to conquer in 1541. In between these campaigns, in 1538 at in Greece, Doria was personally responsible for a shameful and very consequential defeat of a joint Christian fleet under his com- mand by a significantly smaller and weaker fleet under Khair ad-Din. This battle will be discussed in more detail below. Acclaimed as a great admiral despite the defeats he had suffered at the hands of Khair ad-Din, with hardly a significant success in the balance, Doria continued to lead the imperial navy in military oper- ations until he was well into his eighties. When he painted Doria’s portrait, Bronzino was at the beginning of a long career as court painter for Cosimo I de Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany

2 Arnolfini, 40–41. 3 Graviere, 193–97.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 778RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

(r. 1537–74). Bronzino was a prolific and accomplished portraitist, with a style that combined meticulous attention to detail with a tension between an almost tangible presence and a sense of detachment.4 Cosimo employed other painters as well, but Bronzino was the official and exclusive portrait painter in court; he painted several well-known portraits of the duke, the duchess, and their children, as well as portraits for other patrons. The Doria is one of only two portraits in Bronzino’s oeuvre that show the sitters in the guise of mythological figures.5 Vasari writes that Bronzino “made the portrait of Andrea Doria for Monsignor Giovio, his friend.”6 Paolo Giovio was a physician, a bishop, a writer, a historian, and a statesman who served Cardinal Giulio de Medici, laterPopeClementVII,aspersonalphysician and political advisor. In that capacity Giovio took part in his patron’s ill-fated political maneuvers that cul- minated in the Sack of Rome in 1527 and was at the side of the desolate pope when he took refuge in Castel Sant’Angelo. After the death of Clement VII, Giovio found new patrons in Cardinal Alessandro Farnese (1520–89) and his grandfather, Pope Paul III (r. 1534–49). An adamant advocate of concerted military action against the Ottoman Empire, Giovio was involved in the efforts to organize a Christian alliance. In 1537 he was in the pope’s entourage during the negotiations with the emperor that led to the establishment of the , the effort that came to a shameful end with Doria’s defeat at Preveza the next year. Because he did not support the pope’s Counter-Reformation pol- icies and refused to take part in the Council of Trent, Giovio left the papal court and found a new patron in Duke Cosimo I.7 Giovio wrote many books on widely diverse subjects, his magnum opus being the Historiae sui Temporis (History of his time, 1550–52); and yet, at least according to his biographer T. C. Price Zimmermann, “Giovio’s idea of founding a portrait museum . . . was his most original contribution to European culture.”8 The portrait of Andrea Doria was commissioned for that museum. The museum of illustrious persons in Giovio’s villa on the shore of Lake Como was the enterprise of a historian, not of an art collector: the exhibits were not paintings but persons, men of letters, rulers, and military leaders that in Giovio’s judgment had attained renown or notoriety. Each exhibit in the museum consisted of a portrait and of a text, or eulogy, as Giovio referred to it, attached to the wall below the painting. Together they presented the per- sonality and the deeds, often also the misdeeds, of its subject, not just his

4 Brock, 61. 5 The other is Cosimo I as Orpheus (1537), in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. 6 Vasari, 7:595: “A monsignor Giovio, amico suo, [fece] il ritratto d’Andrea Doria.” 7 Zimmermann, 2001, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, s.v. Giovio, Paolo. 8 Zimmermann, 1995, 159.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 779

appearance. Examination of the Andrea Doria exhibit as one entity within a wider scope encompassing Giovio’s Historiae sui Temporis and Bronzino’s poetry, and supported by a precise dating of the painting, will unveil a layered meaning and a context that examination of the portrait by itself cannot expose. But first, the existence of the oar in the original portrait needs to be established as a fact rather than as a plausible hypothesis.

OAR AND TRIDENT: FROM HYPOTHESIS TO FACT Neptune was certainly an appropriate and even self-evident choice for an alle- gorical portrait of the great admiral; other contemporary artists had already used that obvious analogy before Bronzino and it would be used again after him.9 In the nude and holding a trident, Neptune’s most typical attribute, the figure in the portrait conforms to the norm. However, an oar is a common human arti- fact inapt as an attribute of the god; it is also inappropriate for an admiral in the sixteenth-century Mediterranean where oars were in the hands of convicts, pris- oners of war, and slaves. If indeed Bronzino painted Doria holding an oar, then he is portrayed neither as Neptune nor as the admiral that he actually was. Combined with other incongruous details in the painting, such as the partially exposed genitals and the mature rather than heroic nude, this portrait becomes an interpretational challenge. Therefore, the oar hypothesis and the evidence it stands on warrant a close examination. In the brief section dedicated to the portrait of Andrea Doria in the PhD dissertation he submitted to Princeton University in 1955, Craig Hugh Smyth made three assertions that had a significant impact on subsequent research of this painting.10 One assertion dated the portrait to the early ; the second hypothesized that Bronzino had somehow been influenced by the statue of Doria as Neptune by Baccio Bandinelli, which stands unfinished in Carrara; and the third stated that a trace or a shadow of an oar blade was visible in the painting. This last assertion is of interest at this point; the other two will be addressed further below. Several art historians have taken that shadow for granted and cite it as direct visual evidence in support of the oar hypothesis, some with reference to Smyth and some without it;11 only one doubts its existence.12 No such shadow can be seen in recent high-resolution color

9 For example, , bronze plaque and bronze medal (1541), British Museum; Giovanni Montorsoli, marble statue (1557), Messina; Baccio Bandinelli, marble statue (1534), Carrara. 10 Smyth, 193–95. 11 Pope-Hennessy, 244n50; Brock, 179; Costamagna, 2003, 30; Costamagna, 2010. 12 Klinger, 2:66–67.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 780RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Figure 2. Tobias Stimmer. Copy of Andrea Doria’s portrait, 1571. Woodcut. Page from Paolo Giovio, Elogia Virorum Bellica Virtute Illustrium (Basel: Perna, 1575). Image courtesy of the Web Gallery of Art.

photographs. Moreover, a close examination of the portrait in the Brera by this author, deliberately searching for the elusive shadow, has revealed no trace of it. Craig Smyth obviously saw something that he interpreted as an oar beneath the trident, but whatever he saw no longer exists. What he saw and why it is not visible now is a secondary issue, the main one being that the supposedly direct visual evi- dence in support of the oar hypothesis should be disregarded, leaving the

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 781

Figure 3. Portrait of Andrea Doria as God of the Sea. Oil on canvas, 129 x 97 cm. Doria Pamphilj collection, Villa del Principe, . © Amministrazione Doria Pamphilj s.r.l.

hypothesis to stand on a circumstantial deduction. Some twenty years after Giovio’s death, Tobias Stimmer (1539–84), a Swiss painter and illustrator, copied many of the roughly four hundred portraits assembled in the museum. In 1575 Stimmer’s copies, each with the accompanying text Giovio had attached to its original, appeared in print, thus preserving on paper the museum that no longer exists. Stimmer’s copy shows Andrea Doria holding an oar (fig. 2), and therefore it presumably supports the oar hypothesis.13 However, that assumption implies another—namely, that Stimmer’s copy documents the portrait that is now in Milan before its modification. This assumption within an assumption is not self-evident. Another version of this portrait exists, with Doria holding an oar (fig. 3). The painting has been in the Doria Pamphilj collection since 1908. It was kept in the

13 P. Giovio, 1575, 374.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 782RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Figure 4. Agnolo Bronzino. Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, IR image, 1972. Courtesy of the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

Doria Pamphilj palace in Rome until 2000, when it was moved to the Villa del Principe, the Doria palace in Genoa;14 its provenance before the nineteenth cen- tury is unknown. For the sake of argument, suppose that around 1571 it was in Giovio’s museum together with the version now in Milan. Stimmer could have copied either version and for some reason he chose, or only had access to, the one with the oar. Of course, there is no evidence to support this scenario just as there is no evidence to refute it. It only serves to make one point: the oar in Stimmer’s copy proves that in 1571 there was a portrait with an oar in the museum, but it does not prove that it was the one now kept in Milan. As evidence for the oar hypothesis, Stimmer’s copy is plausible but not unquestionable. Without the shadow reported by Smyth and with the evidence of Stimmer’s drawing subject to reasonable doubt, the case for the oar hypothesis is weaker

14 Stagno, 69.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 783

Figure 5. Agnolo Bronzino. Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, IR image, 1972 (detail). Courtesy of the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

than it seems, but weakness of the evidence does not necessarily invalidate the conclusion. Obviously, conclusive evidence can come from X-ray photography or an equivalent imaging technique.15 Fortunately, both IR (figs. 4 and 5) and X-ray (fig. 6) images exist in the archives of the Brera. The oar is visible in both images, more clearly in IR. The rounded transition from shaft to blade is clearly visible in the enlarged detail (fig. 5), and it is obvi- ous that the oar blade was longer than the trident and covered the area on the mast where the inscription A. DORIA is now located. It is also noticeable that the threads of the rope that were added in the area that had previously been covered by the blade are not as fine and distinct as the original threads, suggest- ing that they were painted by another hand. These images prove unequivocally what art historians have assumed all along; Bronzino painted Doria holding an oar, which makes the need for an interpretation all the more obvious. But before proceeding to investigate the meanings of the portrait in its original form it may be interesting to revisit

15 Gorse, 21, mentions, or perhaps assumes, that the blade can be seen in X-ray photo- graphs. In the same sentence he states that the oar is visible in the painting. I doubt that any of these statements is based on actual observation.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 784RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Figure 6. Agnolo Bronzino. Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, X-ray image, 2003. Courtesy of the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

the shadow that Craig Smyth reported, surely based on having seen in the paint- ing something that is no longer visible. Two high-quality black-and-white pho- tographs taken eleven years apart and kept in the archives of the Brera provide the answer. A rectangular area, flat and distinct from its surroundings, is visible above Doria’s right shoulder, directly behind the trident in the pho- tograph taken in 1962 (fig. 7). This rectangle can easily be interpreted as the shadow of an oar blade, and most probably that is what Craig Smyth saw. However, in the later photograph, taken in 1973 (fig. 8), the dark rectangle does not exist. Annotations on the backs of the photographs solve this little mystery. They show that the portrait underwent some treatment between 1962 and 1973. Museum records do not show a full restoration during that period and

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 785

Figure 7. Agnolo Bronzino. Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, before cleanup, 1962. Courtesy of the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

therefore, according to Patrizia Mancinelli, who is in charge of photographic and X-ray documentation at the Brera, that treatment was a periodic cleanup.16 Smyth submitted his thesis in 1955, so he had seen the portrait, in the museum or perhaps in a photograph, when the rectangle was still visible and he interpreted it, understandably, as the trace of an oar. His interpretation has propagated through books and articles and is still widely accepted, although a routine cleaning removed the presumed shadow almost fifty years ago. What that cleanup removed led Craig Smyth astray all the way to the correct conclusion.

16 Discussion with the author at the Brera in Milan, September 2016.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 786RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Figure 8. Agnolo Bronzino. Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, after cleanup, 1973. Courtesy of the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

ANDREA DORIA AND THE OAR: AN INTERPRETATION Doria’s portrait is not unique among paintings of its time in having undergone an iconographic transformation. It is not unique in that respect even in Bronzino’s oeuvre. A similar process transformed the nude dwarf in Bronzino’s two-sided portrait of Morgante into a jovial and not quite as nude Bacchus before it was restored to the original form, as it is now in the Uffizi;17 the nude body of Duke Cosimo as Orpheus, now in Philadelphia, has been repainted in a different posture;18 and there are more examples. Understandable reluctance to endeavor an irreversible restoration poses a dilemma that may leave such paintings as they are, with their original form

17 Hendler, 15–20; Brock, 177–78. 18 Tucker, 28–29.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 787

obscured by later alterations. The portrait of Andrea Doria is exempt from this dilemma. The original form is preserved in plain view in the Doria Pamphilj version and yet the tentative attempts to interpret it, as elaborated further below, produced unsatisfactory results. As Bronzino painted it, this portrait does not lend itself easily to interpretation. To find out what the meaning of the original portrait is, one should first con- sider what it is not. It is definitely not Andrea Doria in the guise of Neptune: the oar is not one of Neptune’s attributes and there is no basis or precedent— iconographical, mythological, literary, or artistic—for presenting him holding it. Furthermore, Neptune is out of place on the deck of a ship: the god flies through or above the waves in a chariot drawn by two or four hippocampi (fish-tailed sea horses), he does not sail onboard a ship.19 Standing in front of a mast, draped by a sail and holding an oar, Doria can hardly be interpreted as a personification of Neptune, and his depiction in the nude does not corrob- orate such a reading. Nudity in a sixteenth-century portrait, such as the unfin- ished statue of Andrea Doria as Neptune by Baccio Bandinelli in Carrara, does not document the subject’s actual body but rather serves to display an image, not necessarily unbiased, of his character, his status, his valor, and so on. Nudity is a costume, to borrow a metaphor from Larissa Bonfante: just as the subject may be dressed in royal garments to show his grandeur or in armor to show military valor, he may be dressed in nudity to project the desired image of his personality.20 Doria’s nudity in the portrait shows the body of a mature, even old, man, at his actual age of more than seventy years. The nude is not a study from life; it is obviously idealized to show physical strength, perhaps following an ancient Roman portrait genre, according to Talvacchia’s reading.21 It is the body of Andrea Doria, not of a mythological god.22 Art historians are well aware, of course, of this iconographical incongruity. Boccardo, for example, writes explicitly that the title Andrea Doria as Neptune should be revised, and argues that had there been any way of interpreting the oar as an attribute of Neptune there would have been no reason to replace it with a trident.23 The problem is evident but the solutions in scholarship are

19 Homer, 1925, 3–5, (Iliad 13.200–33); Cartari, fol. 70r. 20 Bonfante, 543. 21 Talvacchia, 62. 22 Depictions of Neptune with the physique of an old man did appear about a century after Bronzino’s time, such as in Quos Ego (the voyage of Cardinal Infante Ferdinand of Spain from Barcelona to Genoa in 1633, with Neptune calming the tempest) by Peter Paul Rubens, 1635, in the Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, MA (catalogue number 1942.174), but that is a depic- tion of the god, not of a person in his guise. 23 Boccardo, 109.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 788RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

questionable. One approach is to simply bypass the inconsistency. According to Brock, the portrait has always shown Doria as Neptune; at first it had been Neptune with an oar and then, when someone decided that this attribute was too trivial for the god, it became Neptune with a trident.24 Stagno suggests a similar and rather contrived solution: that in its original form the portrait showed Doria as god of the sea but not as Neptune.25 Gorse suggests that the Remus (oar) is there to complete, together with the Arbor (mast) and Velum (sail), the first three letters of Doria’s Latinized name: AVRia.26 This is an interesting observation, but a visual pun hardly justifies an otherwise inappropriate iconog- raphy, especially in the presence of an inscription with the explicit name; and, as discussed further below, this inscription also existed when Doria in the portrait still held an oar. Another approach assumes that the oar is an attribute of a prae- fectus classis (Roman fleet commander), and that the presentation of Doria in that guise draws a parallel between the Habsburg Empire of Charles V and the ancient Roman Empire.27 Paolo Giovio used praefectus classis as the header for the text he attached under the portrait of Andrea Doria (fig. 2), but there is no indication of a meaning beyond the purely verbal because the text under that header does not refer at all to the classical era. Lodovico Domenichi (1516–64), Giovio’s friend and translator, understood the title verbally and translated it as generale dell’armata (general of the fleet);28 in the modern Minonzio edition it is translated as ammiraglio (admiral).29 Furthermore, there is no indication that the oar was in any way an attribute of a Roman admiral.30 The oar is not only out of place in an allegorical representation as Neptune or as an allusion to a Roman naval commander, it is also totally inappropriate for a sixteenth-century admiral of galleys in the Mediterranean. Galley oarsmen in Doria’s time, including on galleys in his own private fleet, were Muslim prison- ers of war, slaves, and convicts condemned to imprisonment with hard labor.31 A galley was a floating prison: the inmates were chained to their benches at all times, exposed to the elements, and subjected to savage beatings and harsh dis- cipline. Oars belonged in the hands of men at the lowest and most wretched

24 Brock, 179–80. 25 Stagno, 69. 26 Gorse, 21. 27 Boccardo, 109; Polleross, 109. 28 P. Giovio, 1559, 553. 29 P. Giovio, 2006, 962. 30 A search through Daremberg and Saglio for any use of an oar as the attribute of a naval officer produced no result. 31 Pantera, 130–33; Canale, 103–04.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 789

levelinthenavalhierarchy,notinthe hand of the admiral at its very top. Costamagna writes that the oar was “an attribute tied to [Doria’s] position as galley captain,”32 but, as any sixteenth-century viewer certainly knew, an oar was the last thing a galley commander, let alone the chief admiral of the emper- or’s fleet, would deign to hold. Having determined what the original portrait is not, Doria in the nude, in front of a ship’s mast and holding an oar remains in need of an interpretation. Some other paintings by Bronzino are difficult to interpret, even enigmatic, as the Allegory with Venus and Cupid in London epitomizes so well.33 But unlike other paintings, this one should not, perhaps even cannot, be interpreted from internal evidence alone. The portrait of Andrea Doria by Bronzino is one of very few among some four hundred portraits in his museum that Paolo Giovio commissioned directly from the artist. All the others were copied from paintings made for other patrons, from frescoes in churches and chapels, from coins, and from medals.34 Giovio accepted and collected portraits for his museum in whatever form he could get them; he had little or no control over most of the items in his collection, but he could be, and certainly was, involved in defining the iconography for a portrait made specifically for him. Giovio was a specialist in iconography, having authored a book on emblems and iconography, as well as several iconographic plans—among them those for the Medici villa in Poggio a Caiano, which was decorated by Pontormo and Bronzino, as well as for the hall of the Palazzo della Cancelleria in Rome, which Vasari painted in one hundred days.35 Because Giovio could not control the iconography or appearance of most of his portraits, in some cases the text he attached to a painting was in direct contradiction with the image. For example, the text under the portrait that shows Cesare Borgia as a dashing and handsome young man describes him as having a pockmarked face covered by pus-emitting ulcers and sunken, serpentine eyes.36 On the other hand, for the few portraits that he could control Giovio was, as Barbara Agosti puts it, a director of portraits.37 Doria’s portrait was one of these few and Giovio would not leave to others, not even to Bronzino, the iconography of a portrait commissioned specifically to be displayed in his museum.

32 Costamagna, 2003, 30; Costamagna, 2010. 33 Attempts to solve this enigma are too many to mention: see, for example, Brock, 214–32; Barolsky. 34 Klinger, 1:6. 35 P. Giovio, 1574. 36 P. Giovio, 1559, 303. 37 Agosti, 45.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 790RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

People, not portraits, were on display in the museum. Each person was rep- resented by his portrait and by a piece of parchment with a text in prose, or a eulogy as Giovio called it, and a poem attached to the wall below the picture.38 In 1549 Giovio wrote about his museum to Duke Cosimo I: “I am preparing eulogies in prose to place under [the portraits] expressing their lives with laconic brevity and adorned with beautiful verse by excellent poets.”39 These two short texts, one in prose and one in verse, were meant to complement the image in describing the person that was their common subject. More subjective evalua- tions than objective biographies, these texts expressed Giovio’s judgments of the person’s character, accomplishments, and shortcomings, dispensing encomium and censure as he saw fit.40 Conceptually, texts and image were different views of the same person and together they presented a more complete picture than any medium could present separately. Giovio believed in the principles of phys- iognomy—namely, that appearance reflected a person’scharacter.41 For por- traits over which he had no control Giovio could not always match text to image, as was the case with Cesare Borgia mentioned above, but where he was the author of both the two surely match. Therefore, the key to understand- ing the portrait of Andrea Doria should be sought in a combined analysis of image and texts, primarily but not exclusively the eulogy that Giovio attached to the painting. Other texts by Giovio, as well as by other authors, have a sig- nificant bearing on this interpretation, and so does Doria’s ship, the galley. The galley was the type of ship most closely associated with Doria; in the fleets under his command, including the sizable mercenary fleet that he owned, as in all other Mediterranean navies of his time, galleys were the main, often also the only, type of warship. Bronzino painted Doria onboard a ship and although its type is hard to perceive in the painting, for any viewer, contemporary as well as modern, Andrea Doria onboard a ship would mean Andrea Doria onboard a galley. Propulsion by oar caused galleys to be long, narrow, and low to the water; it also made them extremely crowded. The total length of a typical war galley was almost forty-four meters from bow stem to sternpost; the entire midsection, about thirty-three meters long, was occupied by two rows of twenty-four or twenty-five benches densely packed with oarsmen. The transition, early in

38 Giovio used the Latin term elogium (epitaph), not the Greek εὐλογία (high praise in honor of a deceased person). 39 P. Giovio, 1958, 2:132–33: “Gli faccio sotto li Elogii in prosa, esprimendo con brevitá laconica la lor vita, essornata poi con belli versi d’eccelenti poeti.” Translations are the author’s except where otherwise noted. 40 Zimmermann, 1995, 206. 41 P. Giovio, 2006, 529.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 791

the sixteenth century, from an oar system with one man per oar to a system with several men pulling a single large oar, allowed placing four and eventually five men per bench instead of three in the previous system, thus increasing their total number from 144 or 150 to 200 and even 250. The benches were sepa- rated by a narrow gangway along the centerline of the ship.42 The rest of the deck was divided into two sections, one in the bow and one in the stern. A raised fighting platform, with soldiers on top and artillery below, took up most of the former; officers and helmsmen occupied the latter. In addition to the oarsmen, the crew consisted of some twenty sailors and craftsmen and fifty to seventy soldiers.43 With so many men on the deck, plus hundreds of barrels of water and countless pieces of equipment and supplies, there was no room to move about and everyone stayed in his assigned position at all times. Officers, nobles, and of course the admiral were always in the stern, the highest point on the deck and the only place protected from the elements by a canopy. The nar- row gangway along the centerline of the deck was the territory of the slave driv- ers, who kept the oarsmen rowing and the ship moving by liberal use of their whips.44 The masts were located on that gangway; sailors occasionally worked near them to operate the rigging, but that definitely was no place for the admi- ral. Bronzino must have placed him there for a purpose. Accessories and background details in Bronzino’s portraits are not coinciden- tal: jewelry, books, the fabric of a dress, statuettes, even the carved armrest of a chair and elements of architecture in the background are hints, or pointers, to messages that the artist wants to convey about the person portrayed.45 Doria’s portrait is no exception. With his back against the mast, Doria in the portrait brings to mind another seaman, Odysseus, who stood, tied to the mast, to hear the song of the Sirens. The rope coiled around the mast behind Doria’s shoulder alludes to the rope that tied Odysseus. The mast and the rope are only clues that a viewer could follow to a more concrete analogy of Doria with the Homeric seaman, provided, of course, that the viewer was familiar with the Odyssey. Having studied Greek under Demetrus Chalcondyles and his pupil Niccoló Leonico Tomeo,46 Giovio could, and presumably did, read the Odyssey in Greek, most likely in the Aldine edition of 1504. Homer’s narratives were accessible to those who could not read Greek through Latin translations of the Odyssey, or perhaps paraphrases would be a better term because they were almost entirely in prose, such as Raphaelo Maffei’s translation published in

42 Drachio, fol. 12r. 43 Canale, 81–84. 44 Pantera, 124–25. 45 See, for example, Brock, 71–179. 46 Zimmermann, 1995, 6–9.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 792RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Rome in 1510.47 Scenes from the Odyssey start to appear in Italian Renaissance art in the first decade of the century. Among them Pinturicchio’s (1454–1513) Return of Ulysses of 1509,48 which shows in the distance Odysseus tied on the deck of a ship while listening to the sirens, and Dosso Dossi’s (1489–1542) Circe and Her Lovers (1515) in the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.49 Vasari writes that Baldassare Peruzzi (1481–1536) painted, probably in the second decade of the century, scenes from the Odyssey on the facade of Ulisse da Fano’s palazzo (now lost).50 Francesco Primaticcio (1504–70) started painting the Galerie d’Ulysse at Fontainbleau, with forty-eight frescoes showing sixty scenes from the Odyssey at about the same time as Bronzino painted the portrait of Doria. Primaticcio’s frescoes no longer exist but they are preserved in Theodor van Thulden’s engravings, among them a scene of Odysseus being tied to the mast.51 This scene was well known not only from Homer’s poem but also from its frequent allegorical use in both religious and secular texts. As Harry Vredveld writes in his extensive study of the prevalence of this particular episode and of its allegorical and moralistic interpretations from ancient times to the Renaissance and beyond, “mythographers, churchmen and romancers never ceased telling the story.”52 Viewers of Bronzino’s painting could certainly be expected to recognize the allusion to the well-known Homeric episode. When Odysseus descends to Hades in book 11 of the Odyssey, the ghost of the Theban prophet Tiresias instructs him on how to proceed on his journey in spite of Poseidon’s wrath, which he has brought upon himself when he and his companions gouged the single eye of Polyphemus, the god’s son. After he reaches his home in Ithaca and deals with the trouble that awaits him there, Odysseus still has one more mission to carry out: “Then go abroad, taking a shapely oar, until you come to men who know nothing of the sea . . . then fix in the earth your shapely oar and make handsome offerings to the lord Poseidon . . . and death shall come to you . . . the gentlest imaginable . . . when you are over- come with sleek old age, and your people shall be dwelling in prosperity around you.”53

47 Maffei. 48 Originally fresco, Palazzo Petrucci, Siena, now transferred to canvas, in the National Gallery, London. 49 Boitani, 132–33. 50 Vasari, 4:593. 51 Primaticcio; Fiorenza, 799; Lorandi, 107–10. 52 Vredeveld, 863. 53 Homer, 1945, 395 (Odyssey 11.117–37). In Odyssey 23.267–84, Odysseus tells Penelope about Tiresias’s prophecy; comparison of the two versions is irrelevant for the purpose of this article.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 793

The oar Odysseus is to plant in the soil will establish the presence of Poseidon where he has previously been unknown; handsome sacrifices will appease the god, and then Odysseus can return to his home town and live there in peace to a ripe old age, surrounded by his prosperous people. Paolo Giovio, in the eulogy attached under the portrait in his museum, spec- ifies for Andrea Doria a last mission that echoes the one Tiresias assigns to Odysseus. The eulogy is short, one of the shortest in the entire museum: just a few sentences in three distinct sections (the full text is quoted in the Appendix).54 The first section, which praises Doria’s achievements as liberator of Genoa and as an admiral, refers twice to his vigor in old age, invoking heaven to pre- serve it. The portrait, painted when Doria was more than seventy years old, shows his age in the torso and in the less than taut belly, as well as in the face and beard. Although mature, the nude body is erect and muscular, reflecting Doria’s vigor at his advanced age. In emphasizing the same theme, vigor at old age, the first section of Giovio’s text establishes a link with the portrait. The second section extols Doria’sproficiency as a seaman; the portrait matches it by showing him onboard a ship (this section also has a deeper meaning, as will be discussed further below). In the third section Giovio writes: “This final task remains for you. You, who with your ancient virtue, vigilance and piety have abolished the names of the old tyrants and brought upon your homeland true liberty and prosperity, maintain its citizens in harmony, safety, and good for- tune for a long time.”55 In the pact he made with Emperor Charles V in 1528, Doria secured, besides very substantial wages for himself, autonomy for Genoa under imperial protection and access for Genoese bankers to the extremely lucrative financial affairs of the empire. He then expelled from Genoa its previous rulers, “the old tyrants” in the eulogy, imposed a new con- stitution that reorganized the city’s social structure, and stabilized it politi- cally. With one stroke Doria made his city free, safe, stable, and wealthy.56 Doria’s last mission was to go back to Genoa and maintain its harmony—that is, rule it and live there in peace for many years surrounded by the grateful citizens of the city he had liberated and enriched. Like Odysseus, who carried a shapely oar on the way to his last mission, Doria in Bronzino’s painting holds an oar on the way to fulfilling the last mission that Giovio stipulates for him. This parallel between the final missions assigned to the two seafarers can explain the presence of the oar in Doria’s hand but does not conclude the inter- pretation. Bronzino’s allusion to the Odyssey links the portrait with poetry,

54 P. Giovio, 1551, 327; P. Giovio, 1559, 553–54; P. Giovio 2006, 962–63. 55 P. Giovio, 1559, 554. Full text and translation provided in the Appendix. 56 Kirk, 20–31.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 794RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

which was not unusual at a time when the two arts were perceived as equiva- lent,57 and a conspicuous feature he introduced in the portrait points to a very specific genre of poetry, one that Bronzino composed proficiently. Literati in Bronzino’s time amused themselves and entertained each other with rime in burla (verses of joke or mockery), burlesque poems that circulated among them. Bronzino was a prolific burlesque poet: in addition to some three hundred short lyric poems in the style of Petrarch he composed many long bur- lesque poems.58 The latter are akin to caricatures in treating the serious frivo- lously and the trivial seriously to produce a comic effect. Burlesque poets often used paradoxical encomium, a mocking praise of trivial or negative conditions, objects, or places. For example, Bronzino wrote poems in praise of mosquitoes, noise, frying pans, and jail.59 Two of his burlesque poems praise the galley.60 Using witty paradoxical analogies and reversals of meaning he ironically negates the harshness of incarceration on a galley and presents the life of those con- demned to it as carefree and enjoyable. The convicts are free from care about gain or loss of money; they are far removed from the pains of love, and they need not worry about dangers such as falling off a horse and so on. Burlesque poems of Bronzino’s time have two layers of meaning. The para- doxical, ironic, but innocuous caricature is the outer shell, while the inner layer, the core of the poems, is blatantly obscene. Translations of the apparently inno- cent or bland terms and metaphors into the brazenly erotic terms of the bur- lesque lexicon were known to the authors and recipients of the poems, in the same way that slang is known to its users: as if through a glossary that, as far as we know, was unwritten at that time; only in the twentieth century was such a glossary compiled.61 For example, a seemingly harmless phrase in Bronzino’s poem in praise of the galley reads: “here boiled and roasted [meats] are never mixed.” In the burlesque lexicon, roasted and boiled refer to anal and vaginal intercourse, and the verse refers to the homosexuality of galley existence.62 Among the many paradoxical benefits that Bronzino ascribes to the galley, we find that the convicts “travel the world and enjoy its fruits / not only free of charge, but also / in the company of admirals, princes and Draguts.”63 This is a direct and explicit reference to Andrea Doria. He was, of course, an admiral,

57 Scholarship on the concept of ut pictura poesis is very extensive; for an overview, see Lee, 1967. 58 On Bronzino’s poetry and its relationship with his painting, see Parker, 2000. 59 Bronzino, 383–93, 376–82, 38–55, 127–37. 60 Bronzino, 347–75. 61 Jean Toscan’s PhD dissertation is an extensive glossary of burlesque language: see Toscan. 62 Bronzino, 351: “Non accozzan mai insieme lesso e arrosto”; Parker, 2000, 27–28. 63 Bronzino, 355: “Cercan’il mondo e godon de’suoi frutti, / senza spender s’intende, e tot- tavia / con ammiragli principi e Dragutti.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 795

and after Emperor Charles V had made him Prince of Melfi in 1531 he was known as il Principe (the Prince). was a senior corsair in the service of the Ottoman sultan, second only to Khair ad-Din. Giannettino Doria, Andrea’s nephew, captured Dragut in 1540 and for several years he rowed in one of Doria’s galleys, chained to the bench like all the other oarsmen. In 1544 Khair a-Din blockaded Genoa with a large fleet and demanded the release of his lieutenant. Once released by Doria for a relatively insignificant ransom, Dragut took command of a squadron of ships from Barbarossa’s fleet and wreaked havoc and devastation on the coasts of Italy, Spain, and France.64 Reference to admirals, princes, and Draguts in Bronzino’s burlesque poem points at Andrea Doria; his portrait points back at the burlesque. A stitched sail hanging from the mast drapes Doria’s hips in the portrait, sup- posedly to cover his genitals, but it fails to hide them completely and thus attracts the viewer’s attention to those parts and endows the figure with an erotic insinuation that links it with the burlesque. Once placed in that context, viewers familiar with burlesque poetry and versed in its glossary, as were most literati in Bronzino’sandGiovio’s milieu, could identify in the portrait an implicit burlesque element, the oar, which had a definite sexual meaning in the burlesque lexicon. The Capitolo in lode della gondola (Poem in praise of the gondola) by Lodovico Dolce (1508–68), the prolific Venetian author, trans- lator, and editor, contains the following verse: “For whoever does not want to venture as far [as the sea] / There are a thousand amorous places nearby / Where he can go instead, with the oar in his hand.”65 The oar has a phallic meaning, not only because of its shape but also because it penetrates rhythmically and repeatedly the surface of the sea, which has a vaginal meaning in the burlesque lexicon. Dolce’s verse means that whoever is not interested in heterosexual intercourse (going as far as the sea) can find easier alternatives.66 Bronzino links the portrait to the burlesque in two steps. First, he alludes to poetry in general by placing Doria in front of the mast, as Homer placed Odysseus. Then he focuses attention on the burlesque genre by letting the sail draping Doria’s hips drop a little bit too low. This conspicuous partial expo- sure of the genitals can also be understood as signifying virility,67 which is in line with Doria’s noticeable physical vigor in the portrait. Clearly, there is no contradiction between virility and the interpretation of the exposure as a pointer to the burlesque, to which the phallic connotations of the oar in that genre

64 Arnolfini, 211. 65 Dolce, 119–20: “Chi non volesse gir tanto lontano / Son da vicin mille luoghi galanti / Dove tosto si vá col remo in mano.” 66 Toscan, 440. 67 Brock, 179.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 796RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

draws further attention. An allegorical portrait in the guise of a mythological figure presents the sitter as both ancient and contemporary; in this portrait, Doria also belongs in two very different genres of poetry, the serious classical epic and the frivolous contemporary burlesque. By investing the painting with burlesque characteristics, Bronzino indicates that that there is more to the portrait than meets the eye and that, like a burlesque poem, this portrait has dual layers of meaning. Giovio indicates the same quite categorically. The short poem that Giovio attached to the wall under Doria’s portrait starts with the following verse: “This is Doria / with disheveled beard and fierce tri- dent / he holds dominion over the great sea.”68 In these lines, which are actually a caption for the portrait, Doria dominates the sea with a fierce trident, but in the portrait he only holds a wooden oar, hardly an attribute of dominance and power. Each component of the Andrea Doria exhibit in Giovio’s museum is plausible by itself; the portrait can be understood in the context of the final mis- sion, and the poem that extols Doria as lord of the sea merely reiterates a com- mon topos. However, the discrepancy that Giovio has introduced, surely not by coincidence or oversight, conveys a message that something in the image and text combination is not what it seems to be. It is a message that even viewers who might somehow accept the unorthodox attribute, even a literate viewer who remembers his Homer and notices the parallels with Odysseus, cannot ignore. This discrepancy between text and image projects an unavoidable impression of weakness and of inadequacy; it turns the portrait and its caption into an ironic caricature. By analogy, imagine the picture of a knight in full armor brandishing a broomstick with a caption that refers to his mighty sword. Bronzino and Giovio, each in his own way, indicate that an inner mean- ing is hidden in the portrait. The inner meaning of a burlesque poem can be unveiled only by means of an external mediator, the glossary that translates the innocuous into the obscene. Likewise, external mediation is required to expose the inner meaning of the portrait. This takes the investigation to the (1538).69 A huge Ottoman army led by the sultan himself set off in 1537 to invade Italy through the Balkans and across the Adriatic; the attack was eventually diverted to Corfu but the danger of invasion remained imminent. Intensive dip- lomatic efforts by Pope Paul III established in 1538 the Holy League, a coali- tion of Christian powers, to launch a Crusade against the Ottoman Empire. In September of that year, Andrea Doria, in command of a fleet of 250 ships, including 134 galleys—Spanish, Venetian, Papal, Maltese, and Genovese

68 P. Giovio, 1551, 327. Full text and translation provided in the Appendix. 69 P. Giovio, 1554, fols. 79r–85r; Pujeau, 127–29; Guilmartin, 48–55; Perria, 155–64; Lane-Poole, 95–104.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 797

(i.e., Doria’s own property)—three large and heavily armed galleons, more than seventy large sailing ships, and some smaller vessels, faced his nemesis Khair A- Din Barbarossa at Preveza, on the Adriatic coast of Greece.70 It was a decisive battle. Victory over the Ottomans would compromise their capability of trans- porting an army across the Adriatic as they had intended to do the previous year, and defeat would make them masters of the Mediterranean. In spite of having significant advantages in ships, soldiers, and artillery, Doria suffered a shameful defeat. Khair ad-Din found a safe haven in a bay protected by a fortress, which Doria blockaded but refused to attack. After a fortnight of futile blockade the Ottoman fleet emerged from the bay in battle formation, but in spite of urgent appeals by his lieutenants, Vincenzo Capello, commander of the Venetian fleet, and the Venetian bishop Paolo Grimani, commander of the papal fleet, Doria refrained from an all-out battle. Instead, perhaps to avoid putting his private galleys at risk, Doria planned to fight the Ottoman galleys with his heavily armed galleons, but the wind stopped and the sail ships were becalmed. Now Doria had the ideal conditions for fighting with his galleys, because a calm sea with no wind was the optimal fighting environment for oar-propelled warships. But rather than organize his galley fleet in battle formation and face the enemy in a battle that he should have won because of his superior forces, Doria stuck to his original plan and tried to induce the Ottoman galleys to come within range of the motionless galleons’ artillery. For several hours he maneuvered with his galleys around the galleons, trying to lure the Ottomans into the trap, which their astute admiral easily avoided; and because Doria’s galleys were not in bat- tle formation the Ottomans managed to isolate and capture or destroy several of them. In the evening a strong wind started to blow and Doria turned his ship around and ran away, with all of his fleet fleeing in total disarray, chased by the enemy and suffering heavy losses.71 The Christian fleet escaped to Corfu, and the next day Khair ad-Din arrived with his fleet to the vicinity of that island and offered the Christians another opportunity to fight. But Doria and his lieutenants, whose forces were still supe- rior in spite of the losses they had suffered during the night, lost so much time haggling over matters of honor that on the seventh of October, ten days after the flight from Preveza, Khair ad-Din returned to his base.72 Following that fiasco the Christian coalition disintegrated and Ottoman dominance in the Mediterranean remained unchallenged for decades. That defeat was a bitter dis- appointment for Giovio who, from his position in the court of Pope Paul III, had taken part in the diplomatic efforts that produced the short-lived coalition.

– 70 P. Giovio, 1554, fol. 81r v. 71 Pujeau, 129. 72 P. Giovio, 1554, fol. 85v.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 798RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Hoping for more than a naval expedition Giovio composed and presented to the emperor a strategic plan for a coordinated all-out offensive against the Ottomans on land and sea.73 When the entire effort collapsed at Preveza he blamed Doria for it. Giovio wrote two accounts of the battle, one in book 37 of his Historiae sui Temporis, first published in 1551, and the other in a eulogy written for display under a portrait in his museum and published in print at about the same time (both texts were written several years before publication). In his Historiae Giovio gives a detailed and well-informed account of the battle based on the interrogation of participants, including Doria and his lieutenants.74 Giovio relates the course of events in a factual and impartial manner without expressing his opinion, but his neutrality breaks down when he reaches the end of the battle—there his condem- nation of Doria is blunt and anything but neutral. On the way the Christian fleet left the battle he writes that “it was not a retreat but a confused and disgraceful flight.”75 On Doria’s conduct he writes that “Prince Doria, a commander with so much experience, such valor and such a reputation, on that day was good for nothing.”76 Fleeing the Ottomans in the dark, the Christian ships extinguished their stern lanterns to avoid detection. In an anecdote that is most probably his own invention, Giovio quotes Khair ad-Din Barbarossa as mocking Doria for throwing away his lanterns to better hide his running away in the dark.77 Vincenzo Capello (1469–1541), the Venetian admiral at Preveza who had adamantly urged Doria to give battle but to no avail, was also on display in Giovio’s museum. Stimmer’s drawing of his portrait leaves no doubt that it was either Titian’s original portrait of Capello (1540), now in the National Gallery, or a copy thereof.78 Under that portrait, which shows Capello in full armor complete with a billowing crimson cape and a baton, Giovio placed a relatively long eulogy. It starts with a statement that Capello wore that partic- ular armor and that very cape at Preveza, which is most probably pure fancy; but it focuses attention on Preveza right at the beginning and also points out the contrast between the military splendor of Capello in his portrait and the enigmaticnudeinDoria’s. The fairly detailed account of the battle that

73 P. Giovio, 1537. 74 P. Giovio, 1554, fol. 82v; Zimmermann, 1995, 158. 75 P. Giovio, 1554, fol. 84v: “Non paressa punto che si ritrassero, ma che confusa & ver- gognosamente fuggissero.” 76 P. Giovio, 1554, fol. 84v: “ il Principe Doria capitano di tanta esperienza, di tanto valore & finalmente di tanta riputatione, quel giorno non valse nulla.” 77 P. Giovio, 1554, fol. 85r: “il Doria dunque ha gittato via il lume per ascondere meglio al buio la sua fuga.” 78 P. Giovio, 1575, 329.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 799

monopolizes the rest of the text is as critical of Doria as the Historiae.79 Giovio again uses harsh terms such as “disgrace,”“shameful fright,” and “infamy” to describe the conduct of the Christian fleet and again he cites Khair ad-Din’s ridicule of his enemy fleeing in disgraceful terror.80 In this second account the role of the weather becomes more prominent and Capello has a share in the blame. Doria and Capello did not foresee the possibility of a change in weather and were totally unprepared when it occurred, whereas Khair ad-Din immediately took advantage of his enemies’ confusion. Doria’s eulogy, unlike Capello’s, does not mention Preveza at all. However, a reading of these two eulogies together brings to light a reference to Preveza in Doria’s eulogy as well. It extols Doria as “unique observer of sky and clouds who has taught [people of] this century the naval arts, teaching those who dare scorn the threats of Aeolus how to remain indifferent to tempestuous winter seas and to the fury of the winds.”81 His mention of Aeolus may also be a pointer to the Odyssey. Like the winds let out from Aeolus’s bag that drove Odysseus away just when he should have reached his destination,82 the unexpected wind in the eve- ning at Preveza drove Doria and his fleet away from a victory they should have won. In Capello’s eulogy, Giovio writes that when the wind died out in the morning the unexpected change in the weather took Doria by surprise and thwarted his tactics. Giovio refers to that change as a “great miracle and omen,” which is sarcastic because there is nothing miraculous about calm weather in the Mediterranean.83 Capello’s eulogy emphasizes Doria’s inability to foresee weather changes and to respond to them as effectively as can be expected of an expert seaman; Doria’s eulogy extols his seamanship and espe- cially his knowledge of weather. This discrepancy reverses the meaning of Doria’s eulogy from praise to sarcastic criticism. The expert seaman, the unique observer of sky and clouds, suffered defeat precisely because he did not read the weather correctly, and then ran away because he did not dare face the fury of the winds, as he had allegedly taught others to do. The hidden meaning of bur- lesque poetry is accessible through an unwritten glossary; the inner meaning of the portrait can be reached through Vincenzo Capello’s eulogy. In Giovio’s judgment as a historian, probably also due to his erstwhile per- sonal involvement in setting up the Holy League, the defeat at Preveza was a dark stain on Andrea Doria’s career. Giovio’s censure did not go unnoticed. Lorenzo Capelloni, in the encomiastic biography of Doria published in

79 P. Giovio, 1559, 492–96. 80 P. Giovio, 1559, 495. 81 P. Giovio, 1559, 554. Full text and translation provided in the Appendix. 82 Homer, 1945, 347–49 (Odyssey 10.28–49). 83 P. Giovio, 1959, 494: “gran miracolo & segno.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 800RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

1562, writes that “anyone who examines what happened (judging rightly) will confess that it was divine intervention that the two fleets did not clash together . . . neither the Prince [Doria] nor the Venetian admiral are to blame as some detractor has published.”84 The detractor Capelloni refers to must be Giovio; another candidate for this dubious honor could be the Venetian official state historian Paolo Paruta, who also criticized Doria severely, but his Storia Veneziana appeared in print only in 1599. Having expressed his criticism of Doria explicitly in his Historiae sui Temporis, Giovio manipulated the exhibit in the museum to convey the same message in a covert way. Giovio did not intend to hide or encrypt the message, for it is explicit in the museum as well: one needed only to walk over to Capello’s portrait, or to flip a few pages in the book of eulogies, to read the same message in plain text. His reasons for employing in Doria’s eulogy a veiled manner like in burlesque poetry can only be speculated upon. Perhaps Giovio refrained from being more explicit in this case because he was reluctant to criticize a person who was still alive, or perhaps he did not want to antagonize the politically influential admiral. However, Giovio’s explicit and none too gentle censure of Doria in the Historiae sui Temporis, published at about the same time as the eulogies, is inconsistent with these assumptions. As a hypothesis, it is the difference between a history book and an exhibit in the museum that explains why Giovio was explicit and direct in one medium and circumspect in the other. In his Historiae Giovio could present a protagonist through a long chain of events and situations; he could express censure of some and praise of others. In the museum Giovio had to convey the entire message at a glance, so to speak. He had harsh criticism for Doria on one account and praise, or at least respect, on others. In the book he could spread his assessments side by side, while in the exhibit he could only express them vertically, one hidden below the other. Several years earlier, Giovio had had great respect for Doria. In his Dialogus de Viris et Feminis Aetate Nostra Florentibus (Dialogueonnotablemenand women of our time), composed soon after the Sack of Rome in 1527 but first published only in 1984, Giovio praises Andrea Doria who “now flourishes in naval glory,”85 mentions his success in fighting the Muslim corsairs, and describes him as “a unique and divine observer of sea and clouds, always vigor- ous and successful in all his expeditions and battles.”86 Giovio repeats the first

84 Capelloni, 89: “Qualunque essaminerà quel successo (dirittamente giudicando) confesserà che fosse permissione divina che quelle due armate non si azuffassero insieme . . . ne incolperà ne il Principe ne il Generale Vinitiano, come da qualche detrattore fu publicato.” 85 P. Giovio, 2013, 170: “Hac navalis gloria unus maxime nunc floret.” 86 P. Giovio, 2013, 170: “unicus et divinus maris ac nubiu, spectator, et in omnibus espe- ditionibus et pugnis semper strenuus et felix.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 801

part of this phrase, almost word for word, in Doria’s eulogy, but now its mean- ing is sarcastic rather than laudatory; the second part is slightly but significantly modified: Doria is still famous for numerous victories, but he is no longer “always vigorous and successful.” Giovio’s erstwhile high esteem for Doria must have made his disappointment after Preveza all the deeper. This reading of the eulogy and the portrait dovetails with the one suggested above based on the parallel with Odysseus, but it reverses the benign nature of that reading. In the section of the eulogy that echoes the last mission of Odysseus, Giovio tells Andrea Doria to go back to Genoa to live there in peace for the rest of his life. By itself, this is as good a wish as an aging seaman and warrior can expect, but combined with the criticism implied in the section of the same eulogy that refers to Doria’s seamanship, it assumes an entirely dif- ferent significance that Giovio conceals under a mask of esteem and benevolent wishes.

DATING THE PORTRAIT Clearly, an interpretation that links the portrait with the battle of Preveza is valid only if the portrait was painted after September 1538. Current estimates date the portrait in the early thirties or in the mid-forties. This range of uncer- tainty is binary, not continuous—the portrait is dated either at one end of the range or at the other, depending on the premises for estimation. While dating a sixteenth-century painting within a range of ten to fifteen years may be accept- able, the higher precision that is necessary in this case warrants a meticulous examination. Considerations of style lead to the later dating; the early dating is based entirely on a literal reading of Vasari. He writes that Bronzino returned to Florence from Pesaro, where he had worked for the Duke of Urbino, to help Pontormo decorate the Medici villa at Poggio a Caiano, and “having returned to Florence he made, almost as a pastime, for Giovanni di Statis ...asmall picture of Our Lady . . . and shortly thereafter, for Monsignor Giovio, his friend, the portrait of Andrea Doria and for Bartolomeo Bettini ...aportrait of Dante.” The list goes on to include eighteen paintings.87 Bronzino returned to Florence in 1532 or 1533 and Vasari’s words “shortly thereafter,” taken liter- ally, have led Craig Smyth in his PhD dissertation to the conclusion that Bronzino painted this particular portrait immediately after his return, actually

87 Vasari, 7:595: “Ed arrivato in Firenze fece, quasi per passatempo, a messer Giovanni de Statis . . . un qudretto di Nostra Donna; e poco dopo a monsignor Giovio, amico suo, il rtratto d’Andrea Doria; ed a Bartolomeo Bettini ...ilritratto di Dante.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 802RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

within the same year.88 Several art historians accept his dating more or less as a default. For example, Janet Cox-Rearick lists this portrait among “aseriesof sculpturesque nude torsos that Bronzino painted between 1532 and 1545.” She notes that “although this work is often given a later date there is no reason to doubt Vasari’s statement” and cites Smyth’s dissertation.89 Charles McCorquodale writes that “[the portrait of] Andrea Doria was normally dated as late as 1560 . . . until Craig Smyth defined its history and convincingly dated it to the early 1530s.”90 Pope-Hennessy writes that it is hard to date this portrait and cites Smyth as a sort of default.91 Other scholars date the portrait in the mid-forties. Philippe Costamagna dismisses the early dating, saying that the works in Vasari’s list are from different periods and then, since traces of Pontormo’s style that are evident in Bronzino’s portraits of the 1530s do not exist in this painting, he concludes that it was painted in the next decade and dates it to 1545–46.92 Bette Talvacchia dates it to the same period;93 Edi Baccheschi estimates 1540–45.94 Maurice Brock writes cautiously that “the portrait of Andrea Doria has long been considered a late work but an early dat- ing toward 1532–33 conforming to Vasari’s suggestion seems to prevail cur- rently.” Then he states that this early dating can be challenged.95 It is quite clear that only the literal reading of Vasari prevents the later dating from being a consensus; however, that reading is questionable and so is the dating derived from it. Vasari writes that the list of eighteen works is partial since it would be too tedious to include all the works that Bronzino painted, only as a pastime, after his return to Florence.96 Unlike Vasari, who was a fast worker and proud of it, Bronzino worked slowly. In a letter to Vincenzo Borghini about the prepara- tions for the wedding of Francesco de Medici and Joanna of Austria in 1565, a project that involved many artists, Vasari writes that the work progresses well with one exception: “Bronzino works slowly, as usual.”97 Bronzino’s slow pace is also evident from the small size of the giornate (the areas to be completed in

88 Smyth, 193–95. 89 Cox-Rearick, 1987, 158. 90 McCorquodale, 71. Incidentally, Smyth did not “define its history” as the author sug- gests; he just made a statement with reference to Vasari. 91 Pope-Hennessy, 244n50. 92 Costamagna, 2003, 32; Costamagna, 2010. 93 Talvacchia, 59. 94 Baccheschi, 99. 95 Brock, 180. 96 Vasari, 7:595. 97 Vasari, 8:397: “Bronzino va piano al solito.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 803

one day) of his frescoes in the Capella Eleonora.98 It is very unlikely that Bronzino, the slow worker, completed all those eighteen or more works in his spare time immediately after his return to Florence. Vasari’s Lives are not chronicles and there is no reason to believe that the list is in chronological order or that Bronzino executed these works sequentially; he most probably worked on several paintings at the same time. All that can be deduced from Vasari is when Bronzino started to work on the lot, not when he completed any individual painting. Furthermore, Vasari writes that Bronzino painted the portrait for Paolo Giovio “his friend,” and it is very unlikely that they were friends, or even casual acquaintances, in the early thirties. Bronzino arrived in Florence in 1527, fled to Pesaro in 1529, and returned in 1532. In 1527 Giovio was at the side of Pope Clement VII during and immediately after the Sack of Rome; he then spent more than a year on the island of Ischia as guest of Vittoria Colonna. When the pope made the teenage Ippolito de Medici a cardinal in 1529 he appointed Giovio as mentor and advisor to the inexperienced and somewhat hyperactive young prelate.99 Giovio traveled extensively and frequently with the young car- dinal, but Pesaro and Florence were not on his itinerary. In 1531 he was in Rome; in 1532 he traveled with Cardinal Ippolito to join Emperor Charles V in Germany and Vienna; then he went to Bologna in the entourage of the emperor for the second colloquy with Clement VII. In March–April 1533 Giovio went from Bologna to Rome, deliberately bypassing Florence, where his close association with Cardinal Ippolito would guarantee an unfriendly wel- come by Duke Alessandro, whose title and position Giovio’s patron claimed for himself. In September 1533 he went to with the pope for his meeting with Francis I of France; in December 1533 he returned to Lake Como; and in May 1534 he went to Rome, where he stayed by the side of the ailing Pope Clement until his death in September.100 When Cardinal Farnese became Pope Paul III, Giovio stayed in Rome in the service of Cardinal Ippolito, who under the new pope felt free to maneuver in an attempt to enlist the emperor’s support for replacing his cousin and archrival, Alessandro, as Duke of Florence.101 After Cardinal Ippolito’s untimely death in August 1535 Giovio stayed at Lake Como and built the villa that would become his museum. Only in September 1538, after Alessandro had been assassinated and Cosimo I had stabilized his rule, Giovio went to Florence to cement with the new duke a rela- tionship that would later become patronage. Giovio stayed in Florence for

98 Cox-Rearick, 1993, 66–68; Parker, 2004, 167. 99 Zimmermann, 1995, 107–08. 100 Zimmermann, 1995, 123–34. 101 Zimmermann, 1995, 139.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 804RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

several weeks, from late September until early November, about two of these weeks in bed in the duke’s palace to recover from an injury he had suffered on the way.102 That is where news of the Battle of Preveza, which had taken place a few days before Giovio’s arrival in Florence, must have reached him. It stands to reason that during that stay in Cosimo’s court in Florence, in September–October 1538, Giovio met and befriended Bronzino, the court painter. Their acquaintance could not have started before that time, certainly not in the 1532–33 time frame. It may be a conjecture, albeit a plausible one, to suggest that Giovio commissioned the portrait of the admiral when he stayed in Cosimo’s court, just days after hearing about Doria’s disastrous defeat. Vasari’s words “monsignor Giovio his friend” can be read as meaning he who is now his friend. The intention here is not to discredit one literal reading of Vasari by means of another, but to show that Giovio’s travels made any direct contact with Bronzino impossible before September 1538. The coincidence of Andrea Doria’s defeat at Preveza with Giovio’s sojourn in Cosimo’s palace in Florence, where he surely met Bronzino and saw his works, explains both the time of commission and the choice of subject. A commission in September– October 1538 is consistent with dating the painting in the forties, as several art historians have suggested based on considerations of style—after all, Bronzino was a slow worker and Giovio’s commission was certainly not at the top of his priority list at that time. Craig Smyth’s third assertion on this portrait raises additional doubts about his dating. He states that “Bronzino’s painting is an almost exact replica of a sculpted Andrea Doria as Neptune by Bandinelli.”103 Shortly after Andrea Doria concluded his pact with the emperor that set Genoa on a new course of freedom and prosperity, the governing council of that city decided to erect a monument in his honor to be placed in the great hall of the Palazzo Pubblico (city hall).104 On 20 August 1529 they commissioned from Bandinelli a marble statue.105 Only five years later, in July 1534, the council allocated money for a down payment to Carrara quarrymen for the block of marble,106 followed by an additional allocation in January 1535,107 presumably after the block had been delivered. Bandinelli started work on the statue in Carrara in the 1535–36 time frame and left it there unfinished, probably around 1540 (fig. 9). Smyth dates Bronzino’s portrait to 1532–33 and practically with the same breath he claims

102 Zimmermann, 1995, 162. 103 Smyth, 194. 104 Waldman, 99; decree of the Dodici Reformatori of Genoa, 7 October 1528. 105 Waldman, 106. 106 Waldman, 136. 107 Waldman, 143.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 805

Figure 9. Baccio Bandinelli. Andrea Doria as Neptune, 1535–40. Marble. Carrara. Photograph: René and Peter van der Krogt.

that it is an exact replica of a sculpture that Bandinelli started only two or three years later. A brief look at Bronzino’s painting and Bandinelli’s sculpture suf- fices to conclude that one is definitely not a replica of the other, let alone an exact one. Nevertheless, art historians accept this assumed linkage with Bandinelli. McCorquodale writes that “Bronzino reproduced almost exactly Bandinelli’s marble,” and Strehlke gives Smyth credit for identifying in Bandinelli’s statue one of the sources for Bronzino’scomposition.108 Other

108 McCorquodale, 72; Strehlke, 139.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 806RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

scholars accept the linkage with Bandinelli, but perhaps noticing the obvious dissimilarity of the portrait to the statue, they switch the linkage to a drawing in the British Museum that does show some similarity to Bronzino’s portrait (fig. 10).109 Although the drawing is obviously not similar to the sculpture it is assumed to be a preparatory sketch and is therefore dated to 1528–29, before or shortly after the commission. This dating precedes the early dating of Bronzino’s painting and the pieces seem to fit nicely together, but they do not. In Bandinelli’s drawing, Doria holds a trident and a dolphin; he is unques- tionably in the guise of Neptune but the sword on his hip is entirely out of place. That sword, so incompatible with Neptune’s iconography, has not remained unnoticed in scholarship. Luba Freedman writes that the sword is a reminder that the Neptune in the drawing is actually no other than Doria;110 Boccardo posits that it is a symbol of loyalty to the empire;111 Heikamp writes that its purpose was to show off Bandinelli’s virtuosity as a sculptor;112 and Gorse sees it as “an attribute of fortitude and strength.”113 These are only spec- ulations, but the sword can be identified concretely. The sword in the drawing is an ornate ceremonial falchion, a dress accessory rather than a weapon, and very similar to the sword worn by Duke Cosimo I, now in the Wallace Museum, London (inventory no. A710), except for the tip of the hilt that is shaped as an eagle, a Doria family emblem, instead of the Florentine lion. In 1535, while Charles V was preparing the campaign to con- quer Tunis, Andrea Doria visited the new Pope Paul III to enlist his support for the emperor’s campaign. On that occasion the pope gave Doria a richly deco- rated sword as a present to “a valorous captain and public defender of the Christian faith.”114 Bandinelli obviously considered, or believed that Doria and the councilmen of Genoa would consider, a sword received from the pope important enough to adorn his figure in the portrait even though it did not quite fit the mythological iconography. That means that Bandinelli made the drawing in 1535 or later, not as a preparation for the sculpture commis- sioned in 1529, which raises the question of his reasons for making that sketch. Although the statue remained unfinished in Carrara, Cardinal Hieronymo Doria commissioned from Bandinelli in 1537 a second statue of Andrea

109 Pope-Hennessy, 244; Boccardo, 113–14; Cox-Rearick, 1987, 158. Brock, 180, on the other hand, writes that there is no similarity whatsoever; Costamagna, 2010, ascribes the sim- ilarity to a common source, Michelangelo. 110 Freedman, 228. 111 Boccardo, 114. 112 Heikamp, 54. 113 Gorse, 9. 114 Capelloni, 56: “valoroso capitano & publico difensore della Christiana fede.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 807

Figure 10. Baccio Bandinelli. Andrea Doria as Neptune,1537.Inkonpaper.TheBritish Museum, London. © The British Museum.

Doria that would remain on paper, so to speak. In April 1537 the cardinal asked where to send the marble for that second statue.115 In June he praised a drawing of the proposed statue that he had received from Bandinelli.116 Figure 10 may well be that drawing, which means that it was made in preparation for the sec- ond statue, not for the one in Carrara, thus explaining the dissimilarity to the unfinished sculpture as well as the presence of the sword. Since the drawing was

115 Waldman, 156 (Hieronymo Doria to Baccio Bandinelli, 9 April 1537). 116 Waldman, 160 (Hieronymo Doria to Baccio Bandinelli, 17 June 1537).

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 808RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

made in 1537 instead of 1528–29 as has been assumed so far, it no longer sup- ports the early dating of the portrait by Bronzino. On the contrary, if indeed Bandinelli’s drawing influenced Bronzino, its creation in 1537 would support the dating of the portrait to 1538 or later. This rather lengthy dating analysis is necessary because had the portrait been painted, or even commissioned, in the early thirties, before the battle of Preveza, that would negate the interpretation presented above. However, the validity of the early dating, based primarily on a literary and selective reading of Vasari, is dubious at best, and Bandinelli’s drawing, which presumably supports the early dating, was made after 1535, most probably in 1537. Giovio’s busy itinerary and his deliberate avoidance of Florence as long as Alessandro was the duke make a commission before 1538 practically impossible. It is more plausible by far to date the commission of the portrait to Giovio’sstayinDuke Cosimo’s palace during September–October 1538, when he surely met and most probably befriended the court painter, Bronzino. According to this anal- ysis Giovio commissioned the portrait from his new friend after, in fact very shortly after, the battle of Preveza, when the shock and the disappointment of Doria’s defeat were fresh in his mind. With Bronzino’sslowpaceand demanding workload for the court, he most probably painted it in the early for- ties, as its style indicates.

CONVERSION FROM ODYSSEUS TO NEPTUNE Striking a balance in iconography between the lucid and the sophisticated is no simple matter; if too straightforward it may be considered bland and unimpres- sive, whereas an iconography that is too intricate risks being considered whim- sical. One of the rules for selecting the perfect iconography, according to Giovio’s book on emblems, is that “it should not be so obscure that to under- stand it one would need the oracle of a Sybil as an interpreter, nor so obvious that any plebeian would understand it.”117 The portrait of Andrea Doria exem- plifies this rule. With the oar, this portrait is closer to the first category. Understanding it may not require prophetic capabilities but it is certainly an intellectual challenge, whereas the trident is a symbol that “any plebeian” can understand. Allegorical analogy with Neptune, complete with the trident, was the common and supposedly correct way of presenting Andrea Doria. That is how Baccio Bandinelli presented him in the unfinished statue in Carrara and that is how he intended to present him again in the sculpture for Cardinal

117 P. Giovio, 1574, 12: “ch’ella non sia oscura, di sorte, c’habbia mistero della Sibilla per interprete a volerla intendere; ne tanto chiara, ch’ogni plebeo l’intenda.”

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 809

Hieroyimo Doria. Leone Leoni presented Doria as Neptune on medals and bronze plaques, as did Giovanni Agnolo Montorsoli in the sculpture he made for the Palazzo del Principe in Genoa. These works were commissioned by Doria or for him and therefore, as Pope-Hennessy notes, “when four artists . . . concur in a uniform interpretation of Doria’s personality, it is manifestly to the sitter that the uniformity is due.”118 Bronzino and Paolo Giovio deviated from that norm but it seems that one of Giovio’s heirs turned out to be what his ancestor had called a plebeian and had the painting converted to suit the convention. Another member of the family has left an interesting reference to that conversion. In a treatise on painting published in 1776, Count Giambattista Giovio (1748–1814) writes about “a [portrait of] Doria, which can be admired in the gallery of the Counts Giovio, my ancestors; a very fine portrait, in the nude, full of vigor. The poetic painter placed a trident in the hand of that admi- ral . . . and thus metamorphosed him into Neptune.”119 The second sentence is intriguing. Bronzino, a proficient poet, could well be that “poetic painter.” Giambattista Giovio has been understood as saying in this sentence that Bronzino himself, not some later anonymous artist, painted the trident over the oar and thus effected the metamorphosis.120 Giambattista’s incidental com- ment, written some two hundred years after Bronzino’s death, probably relates a family tradition handed down through many generations, and although it may be tempting to explore this possibility, its historical significance is questionable. It is also possible that the Count did not know about the oar and simply meant to say that the painter had allegorically transformed Doria into Neptune; his inadvertent choice of words assumes the meaning of converting the painting from one form to another only for one who is aware of this conversion. All that can be deduced from Giambattista’s comment is a time limit: the conver- sion took place before 1776. The motivations of the artist who performed the metamorphosis and of the patron who commissioned it are quite obvious since the oar was too trivial and the affinity with Neptune too strong to leave the portrait in its original form,121 but the identities of both artist and patron remain unknown.

118 Pope-Hennessy, 245. Bronzino is one of the four artists this observation refers to, although the author acknowledges on the same page that Bronzino painted Doria with an oar. 119 G. Giovio, 65: “il Doria, che ammirasi nella galleria dei Conti Giovi, agnati miei. Finitissimo ritratto, ignudo, pieno di forza. Il poetico pittore diede il tridente alla mano di quell’Ammiraglio . . . e lo metamorfosò in Nettuno.” 120 Klinger, 2:66. 121 Brock, 179; Costamagna 2003, 30.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 810RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

ORIGINAL AND COPY Overpainting has transformed Doria as Odysseus, with the oar, into Doria as Neptune, with the trident, but the original is not lost: it still exists in the Doria Pamphilj collection. The painting appeared on the market in Genoa in 1850 and was initially attributed to Sebastiano del Piombo; this attribution was sub- sequently contested and in 1963 Berenson identified the painting as an auto- graph copy of the portrait in the Brera,122 but his identification is not a consensus among scholars. Philippe Costamagna attributes the copy to a Lombard artist in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century, but provides no name or rationale.123 Boccardo considers the attribution of the Doria Pamphilj version to Bronzino unacceptable because in his opinion it is much more expressive than the Brera version.124 Strehlke suggests that the copyist was Bernardino Campi.125 Two artists copied portraits in Giovio’s museum soon after his death and long before Stimmer arrived there in 1571. One of them was Cristofano dell’Altissimo, who spent several years at Como and copied for his patron, Grand Duke Cosimo I of Tuscany, the portraits that are now the Serie Gioviana (Giovian series) in the Uffizi, among them the portrait of Andrea Doria (Uffizi catalogue number 00292553). The inscription on this portrait is IOA:ANDREAS AVRIA, meaning , but the face is unequivocally copied from Bronzino’s portrait of his great uncle Andrea. Since dell’Altissimo copied only the head, his painting has no bearing on this discussion. The other copyist was Bernardino Campi (1522–91), whom Ippolita Gonzaga (1503–70), daughter of Francesco Gonzaga and Isabella d’Este, commissioned to copy portraits in Giovio’s museum.126 Lano includes the portrait of “Andrea Doria the elder” in a list of portraits Campi copied for Francesco Gonzaga, but does not mention Giovio’smuseum.127 It stands to reason that the portraits in Lano’s list are those that Campi copied for Ippolita in Giovio’s museum and thus the Doria Pamphilj version of the por- trait may be his doing. Campi was a competent portraitist with more than one hundred portraits on record;128 perhaps the additional expressiveness that Boccardo finds in the copy was his contribution.

122 Boccardo, 109, 116–17n34. 123 Costamagna, 2010. 124 Boccardo 117n34. 125 Strehlke, 139. 126 Zamboni; Bernardino; Strehlke, 139. 127 Lano, 52. 128 Zamboni; Bernardino.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 811

In spite of being a copy, the Doria Pamphilj version preserves the original form and meaning of the portrait whereas the version in Milan does not, so perhaps the order of precedence should be reconsidered. The oar in one version and the trident in the other are not the only difference between them; a close look at the two paintings reveals additional features, hitherto overlooked and unpublished, that make the Doria Pamphilj version closer to being the original in other ways as well. Dimensions of the portraits in the Doria Pamphilj collection and in Milan are 129 x 97 centimeters and 115 x 83 centimeters respectively;129 the former is larger than the latter by 14 centimeters in each dimension. Figure 11 shows the two versions side by side with Doria’s figure in both paintings adjusted so that the vertical distance from eyes to navel is the same, as indicted by the dotted white lines (fig. 11). The dotted-line frame superimposed on the Doria Pamphilj version indicates their dimensions relative to each other. This frame does not match exactly the physical dimensions of the Brera version because the versions are not photographic copies of each other; its dimensions were deter- mined by the distance of features in the Brera version, such as the tip of the finger of Doria’s left hand and the wrist of his right hand, from the edge of the canvas. The Doria Pamphilj version has a strip of painted area all around the perimeter that is missing from the one in Milan, and it is apparent that its size was initially even larger. The letter A in the lower part of the left edge near Doria’s right hand is obviously the end of an inscription A. DORIA, truncated when the canvas was cut down to its current dimensions. That letter is about the same size as the letters in the inscription in the Brera version, so the entire inscription in the corner was of about the same length as the one on the mast. The original canvas must have extended further to the left by about 30 centi- meters to accommodate this inscription and perhaps it extended by as much to the right as well, assuming that the figure of Doria was in the center of Bronzino’s composition. With that width the mast could be seen fully, without being cut off vertically by the left edge of the canvas as it is now, and perhaps a strip of background scenery like the one on the right edge could also be seen on the left. The full mast in Stimmer’s copy indicates that the painting he saw and copied in the museum was significantly wider than the current versions. The portrait in the Doria Pamphilj version is presumably a copy, but it is hardly likely for a copy, even if it is an autograph copy, to contain more detail and background than the original. A copyist may ignore some areas around the

129 The width of the Milan portrait is given throughout the scholarship as 53 centimeters, which is incorrect. Photographs do not show actual dimensions but they do show proportions. With a width of 53 centimeters the height to width ratio would be close to 2.2:1, whereas the actual ratio is about 1.4:1 and corresponds to a width of 83 centimeters.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 812RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Figure 11. Both versions of the portrait (fig. 1 and fig. 3) adjusted to the same size.

edges of the portrait to focus on the figure itself, but adding in the copy what the original does not contain is improbable. Bronzino’s original painting must have been significantly larger than either of the two versions as they are today. Both versions initially showed Doria with an oar on a significantly larger can- vas; the name was written in the lower left corner, the full width of the mast was in view, and some background landscape could be seen on both sides. At an unknown time, the version now in the Brera went through a series of rather drastic modifications by an anonymous artist. He trimmed the canvas to the smallest possible size, for had he trimmed it any more he would have cut into Doria’s body; he painted a trident over the oar, filled in the area previously covered by the blade, and then painted on the newly filled-in area the inscrip- tion that had been cut off. The portrait in the Doria Pamphilj collection escaped with only an amputation of a strip along its left edge, perhaps also a similar strip on the right. Neither version of this portrait is the original in the sense of being exactly what Bronzino created. One retains the original iconography and therefore also the original meanings but is considered a copy, while the other is consid- ered the original in spite of having undergone an iconographical metamorphosis that changed its meaning entirely. All references in scholarship to the portrait of Andrea Doria address the version in the Brera, mentioning the other version in passing, if at all. It was not uncommon for Bronzino’s workshop to produce

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 813

multiple versions of a single painting; for example, more than two dozen ver- sions of his portrait of Cosimo I in armor are known, most of them autograph copies.130 When differences are minor, each autograph version is basically nei- ther more nor less an original than any other, although chronological prece- dence is still relevant. This also applied to the two versions of this portrait until one of them was transformed into the guise of Neptune. After that trans- formation, the Doria Pamphilj version is closer to being the original than the one in Milan. These are no longer an original and a copy; they are two different portraits of the same subject, one showing him as Neptune and the other as something else. The main objective of this analysis was to understand what that something else is.

CONCLUSION X-ray and IR images from the archives of the Pinacoteca di Brera in Milan prove that the portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune was originally painted with an oar instead of a trident, confirming what art historians have assumed all along. With the oar a confirmed fact and no longer a hypothesis, the original portrait eludes adefinitive interpretation if analyzed in isolation. The interpretation proposed here stands on two premises. First, that since this portrait was conceived and created specifically for his museum, Paolo Giovio had a dominant role in for- mulating the iconography; and second, that since in that museum the portrait was part of an integrated exhibit composed of image and text, the entire exhibit should be analyzed as one entity. This analysis leads to the conclusion that the original portrait shows Doria in the guise of Odysseus, not Neptune. The prophet Tiresias instructs Odysseus to carry a shapely oar on his last mission, and Giovio suggests a comparable last mission for Doria in his eulogy, reflected in the portrait by the oar that Bronzino placed in his hand. That would have explained the presence of the oar, if Giovio had not attached under the portrait a caption in verse that refers to the oar as Doria’s fierce trident. With that cap- tion the portrait conveys a message of inadequacy; it becomes ironic, like a car- icature or a burlesque poem, a similarity that Bronzino points out by letting the sail that drapes Doria’s loins drop a little too far. As in burlesque poetry, external mediation is required to access the inner meaning. That mediation is found in the eulogy that Giovio wrote for the Venetian admiral Vincenzo Capello, which describes in some detail the battle of Preveza. Reading Doria’s eulogy in con- junction with Capello’s reveals, under a mask of flattery and praise for Doria’s seamanship, a circumspect but sarcastic censure of his incompetence in that bat- tle. Accepting the dating of the portrait to 1532–33, as several art historians do

130 Simon, 527.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 814RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

based on a strictly literal reading of Vasari, would not affect the analogy to Odysseus but would invalidate the inner layer of this interpretation that is related to Preveza. However, a thorough analysis of the portrait’sdating shows with a high level of probability that it was commissioned after, probably very shortly after, Doria’s defeat in that battle, which shattered the Holy League against the Ottomans that Giovio had been instrumental in establishing. The portrait thus expresses Giovio’s deep disappointment in Doria. Indeed, the last mission he proposes for Doria in the painting and in the eulogy is actually a suggestion that it is time for the admiral to retire. The transformation to the guise of Neptune was probably an easy solution for an enigmatic and apparently inappropriate representation of Andrea Doria, but who did it and when it was done remain open questions.

APPENDIX

Giovio’s Eulogy of Andrea Doria

The eulogy consists of two parts: a poem by Giovanni Vitali and a text in prose by Giovio, both written in Latin and translated to Italian by Giovio’s friend and translator Lodovico Domenichi. Both versions are provided below, with English translations. Poem by Giovanni Vitali Quem spectas barba horrentem, saeuumque tridente Imperium pelagi magna ditione tenentem Aurius est; non ille modo Lybiaque, Asiaque Pyratarum horror, & formidabile nomen, Sed terra decus Ausonia, & nova gloria Martis. Hic patriam longo concussam turbine belli Firmavit pace, & civiles sustulit iras Illum grata suum, Ligurum Respublica civem Et pietate gravem, & meritis ingentibus, inter Delectos proceres quos illa ab origine prima Excolvit celebrem aeterno sacravit honore Et Iovius tabulam virtutis dedicat ergo.

Lodovico Domenichi’s Translation Questi è il gran Doria, ilqual col fier tridente Ha sopra il mare Imperio & signoria;

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 815

De’ Pirati spavento, & d’ogni ria Di Libia & d’Asia insatiabil gente; D’Italia honor, di Marte alta & presente Gloria; ch’à la sua patria illustre & pia Ha dato pace, ond’ella allegra sia, Piu che mai bella, & ricca, & eccellente. Ond’ella grata al suo chiaro vicino, Grande di merti, & grande di pietade, L’honora in mezzo à’piu famosi heroi; E’l sacro Giovio ad huom tanto divino, Lodando in lui cosi nuova bontade, Ha fatto honor co’chiari scritti suoi.

English Translation With disheveled beard and fierce trident This is Doria, who dominates the great sea. The horror of pirates, of formidable fame Not only on the coasts of Libya and Asia, He brings honor to Italy, a new glory to Mars. In his homeland, long shaken by whirlwinds of war He established peace and removed civil rage From the grateful citizen of the Ligurian Republic. With serene piety and immense merits, He gained eternal fame and sacred honor Among the most famous nobles And Giovio dedicates to him this plaque.

Eulogy by Paolo Giovio Diu te sospitent coelestia numina fortunate senex, assertae in libertatem patriae suprema gloria inclyte, perpetue & invicte praedonum hostis, & multis mari partis victoriis celebrate. Dii superi inquam servent, & in hoc vividae senectae robore sistant. Ad praesidium naque orae maritimae Deorum immortalium beneficio natus exist- imaris qui unicus coeli nubiumque spectator navalis disciplinae arcana, huic saeculo propalasti; ut doceres quibus artibus & irati maris contumeliam, & saevientis Aeoli minas contemnere possent qui hybernis etiam tempesta tibus se fortiter committere audeant. Hoc tibi supremi laboris super est, ut pro tua vetere virtute, vigilantia, pietate, pat- riam quam abolitis veterum tyrannorum nominibus vere liberam opibusque

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 816RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

florentem fecisti; parta ciuium concordia, diu serves, incolumemque & bene fortuna- tam faxis.

Lodovico Domenichi’s Translation Guardivi lungo tempo Iddio, fortunato vecchio, illustre per la suprema gloria d’haver messa in libertà la patria vostra, perpetuo e invitto nemico de’corsali, & celebrato per molte vittorie acquistate in mare. Iddio vi conservi, & mantenga nella fortezza di questa vigorosa vecchiezza. Percioche credesi che voi siate nato per beneficio dell’immortale Iddio alla difesa della contrada maritima, ila quale unico consideratore del cielo & delle nuvole, havete rivelati a questo secolo i secreti della disciplina navale; insegnandoli con quali artifici essi potessero sprezzare la furia del mare adirato, & le minaccie de venti crudeli, iquali ardiscono anchora entrare in mare nella terribile stagion del verno. Restavi hora questo per l’ultima fatica, che secondo la vostra antica virtù, vigilanza & pieta, havendo voi fatta la patria vostra veramente libera, & fiorita di ricchezze, & cancellati i nomi de gli antichi tiranni: mantenedo hora in concordia i cittadini, lungo tempo la conserviate, & la facciate salva, & bene avventurata.

English Translation May heaven protect you for a long time, fortunate old man, illustrious in supreme glory for the liberation of your homeland; relentless and invincible enemy of the pirates and famous for numerous victories at sea; may gods of heaven preserve and maintain you in this vigor of a robust old age. It is believed that you were born by the grace of the immortal God for the defense of the seacoast. You alone, observer of sky and clouds, have unveiled the secrets of the naval practice to [people of] this century, teaching those who dare scorn the threats of Aeolus how to remain indifferent to tempestuous winter seas and to the fury of the winds. A last task remains for you to complete. You, who with your ancient virtue, vig- ilance, and piety have abolished the names of the old tyrants and brought upon your homeland true liberty and prosperity, maintain its citizens in harmony, safety, and good fortune for a long time.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 817

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Agosti, Barbara. Paolo Giovio: Uno storico Lombardo nella cultura del Cinquecento.Florence: Olschki, 2008. Arnolfini, Pompeo. Della vita et fatti di Andrea Doria Principe di Melfi. Genoa: Pavoni, 1598. Baccheschi, Edi. L’opera completa del Bronzino. Milan: Rizzoli, 1973. Barolsky, Paul. “The ‘Pleasurable Deceits’ of Bronzino’s So-Called London Allegory.” Notes in the History of Art 10.3 (1991): 32–36. Berenson, Bernard. Italian Pictures of the Renaissance: Florentine and Centarl Italian Schools. 2 vols. London: Phaidon, 1963. Boccardo, Piero. Andrea Doria e le arti: Commitenza e mecenatismo a Genova nel Rinascimento. Rome: Fratelli Palombi, 1989. Boitani, Piero. “L’Ulysse d’Homère et de Dante à la Renaissance.” In Homère à la Renaissance, Mythe et Transfigurations, ed. Luisa Capodieci and Philip Ford, 129–46. Rome: Collection d’Histoire de l’art de l’Acadèmie de France à Rome, 2011. Bonfante, Larissa. “Nudity as a Costume in Classical Art.” American Journal of Archaeology 93.4 (1989): 543–70. Brock, Maurice. Bronzino. Paris: Editions du Regard, 2002. Bronzino, Agnolo. Li capitoli facetti di Mess. Agnolo Allori detto il Bronzino eccelente pittore e poeta Fiorentino. Venice: Alvisopoli, 1822. Canale, Cristoforo. Della milizia maritima libri quatro di Cristoforo Canale transcritti e annotati da Mario Mocenigo. Venice: Filippi editori, 2010. Capelloni, Lorenzo. Vita del principe Andrea Doria. Venice: Gabriel Giolito de’Ferrari, 1565. Capponi, Niccolὸ. Victory of the West: The Story of the .London:Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. Cartari, Vincenzo. Le Imagini, con la spositione de i dei degli antichi. Venice: Francesco Rampazzetto, 1566. Casoni, Filippo. Annali della Republica di Genova del secolo decimo sesto.Genoa:Antonio Casamara, 1708. Costamagna, Philippe. “Entre Raphaël, Titien, et Michel-Ange: Les portraits d’Andrea Doria par Sebastiano del Piombo et Bronzino.” In Les Portraits du Pouvoir, ed. Olivier Bonfait and Brigitte Marin, 25–33. Paris: Somogy, 2003. Costamagna, Philippe. “Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune.” In Bronzino, Artist and Poet at the Court of the Medici, ed. Carlo Falciani and Antonio Natali, 264. Florence: Mandragora, 2010. Cox-Rearick, Janet. “A ‘St. Sebastian’ by Bronzino.” Burlington Magazine 129.1008 (1987): 155–62. Cox-Rearick, Janet. Bronzino’s Cahpel of Eleonora in the Palazzo Vecchio. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. Cox-Rearick, Janet, and Mary Westerman Burgarella. “Public and Private Portraits of Cosimo de’Medici and Eleonora: Bronzino’s Paintings of His Ducal Patrons in Ottawa and Turin.” Artibus et Historiae 25.49 (2004): 101–59. Cropper, Elizabeth. “Pontormo and Bronzino in Philadelphia: A Double Portrait.” In Pontormo, Bronzino and the Medici: The Transformation of the Renaissance Portrait in

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 818RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Florence, ed. Carl Brandon Strehlke, 1–31. Philadelphia, PA: Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2004. Daremberg, Charles, and Edmond Saglio. Dictionnaire des Antiquités Grecques et Romains.5 vols. Graz: Akademische Druk und Verlaganstalt, 1962–63. Dolce, Lodovico. “Capitolo in lode della Gondola.” In Il terzo libro delle opere burlesche,ed. Francesco Berni, 115–25. Rome: Jacopo Bordelet, 1726. Drachio, Baldissera. Visione. Archivo di Stato Veneto (ASV), Venice, Archivio Proprio Contarini, busta 25. 1594. Fiorenza, Giancarlo. “Penelope’s Web: Francesco Primaticcio’s Epic Revision at Fontainbleau.” Renaissance Quarterly 59.3 (2006): 795–827. Freedman, Luba. “Neptune in Classical and Renaissance Art.” International Journal of the Classical Tradition 2.2 (1995): 219–37. Giovio, Giambattista. Discorso sopra la pittura. London, 1776. Giovio, Paolo. Commentario de le cose de’ Turchi di Paulo Giovio, vescovo di Nocera, a Carlo Quinto Imperadore Augusto. Venice: Bernardino de Bindoni, 1545. Giovio, Paolo. Elogia Virorum Bellica Virtute Illustrium Veris Imaginibus Supposita, Quae apud Musaeum Spectantur. Florence: Torrentino, 1551. Giovio, Paolo. Il rimanente della seconda parte dell’Historie del suo tempo.Trans.Lodovico Domenichi. Venice: Comin da Trino, 1554. Giovio, Paolo. Vite brevemente scritte d’huomini illustri gi guerra, antichi e moderni.Trans. Lodovico Domenichi. Venice: Francesco Bindoni, 1559. Giovio, Paolo. Ragionamento dell’impresse military et amorose. Lyon: Rouillo, 1574. Giovio, Paolo. Elogia Virorum Bellica Virtute Illustrium. Basel: Perna, 1575. Giovio, Paolo. Lettere. Ed. Giuseppe Guido Ferrero. 2 vols. Rome: Instituto poligrafico dello stato, 1958. Giovio, Paolo. Elogi degli uomini illustri. Ed. Franco Minonzio. Trans. Andrea Guaspari and Franco Minonzio. Torino: Einaudi, 2006. Giovio, Paolo. Notable Men and Women of Our Time. Ed. and trans. Kenneth Gouwens. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013. Gorse, George. “Body Politics and Mythic Figures: Andrea Doria in the Mediterranean World.” California Italian Studies 6.1 (2016): 1–28. Graviére, Jurien de la. Doria et Barberousse. Paris: Plon, 1886. Guilmartin, John. Gunpowder and Galleys: Changing Technology and Mediterranean Warfare at Sea in the Sixteenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974. Heikamp, Detlef. “In margine alla Vita di Baccio Bandinelli del Vasari.” Paragone 191 (1966): 51–62. Hendler, Sefy. Un mostro grazioso e bello: Bronzino e l’universo burlesco del Nano Morgante. Florence: Maschietto Editore, 2016. Homer. Iliad. Trans. A. T. Murray. Loeb Classical Library. London: William Heinemann, 1925 Homer. Odyssey, Books 1–12. Trans. A. T. Murray [1919]. Loeb Classical Library. London: William Heinemann, 1945. Kirk, Thomas Allison. Genoa and the Sea: Policy and Power in an Early Modern Maritime Republic, 1559–1684. Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press, 2005.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. BRONZINO’S PORTRAIT OF ANDREA DORIA 819

Klinger, Linda. “The Portrait Collection of Paolo Giovio.” 2 vols. PhD diss., Princeton University, 1991. Lane-Poole, Stanely. The Story of the Barbary Corsairs. New York: Putnam, 1890. Lano, Alessandro. Discorso intorno alla scoltura e pittura. Cremona: Ricchini, 1774. Lee, Rensselaer. Ut Pictura Poesis: The Humanistic Theory of Painting.NewYork: W. W. Norton, 1967. Lorandi, Marco. Il mito di Ulisse nella Pittura a Fresco del Cinquecento Italiano. Milano: Jaca Book, 1996. Maffei, Raphaelo. Odissea Homeris per Raphaelem Volterranum in Latinum Conversa.Rome, 1510. McCorquodale, Charles. Bronzino. London: Chauser Press, 2005. Pantera, Pantero. L’Armata navale. Rome: Edigio Spada, 1614. Parker, Deborah. Bronzino: Renaissance Painter as Poet. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Parker, Deborah. “Bronzino and the Diligence of Art.” Artibus et Historiae 25.49 (2004): 161–74. Perria, Antonio. Andrea Doria il corsaro: La casata e le gesta del piu grande ammiraglio genovese del sedicesimo secolo. Milan: Suagro, 1982. Polleross, Friedrich. “Rector Marium or Pater Patrie? The Portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune.” In Wege zum Mythos, ed. Luba Freedman and Gerlinde Huber-Rebenich, 107–21. Berlin: Gebr. Mann, 2001. Pope-Hennessy, Sir John Wyndham. The Portrait in the Renaissance. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989. Primaticcio, Francesco. La Gallerie du Chasteau Royal de Fontaine-Bleau, representant les Travaux D’Ulysse, dessinex par F. Primatice de Boulogne, expeints par Messire Nicolo, gravez sur cuire par Theodore Ven-Tulden. Paris, 1633. Pujeau, Emanuelle. “Preveza in 1538: The Background of a Very Complex Situation.” In Second International Symposium on the History and Culture of Preveza, 121–38. Preveza, 2009. https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-00833534. Simon, Robert. “Bronzino’s Portrait of Cosimo I in Armor.” Burlington Magazine 125.966 (1983): 527–37. Smyth, Craig. “Bronzino Studies.” PhD diss., Princeton University, 1955. Stagno, Laura. Palazzo del Principe, Villa di Andrea Doria, Genova.Genoa:SagepLibri& Comunicazioni, 2005. Strehlke, Carl Brandon. Pontormo, Bronzino and the Medici: The Transformation of the Renaissance Portrait in Florence. Philadelphia, PA: Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2004. Talvacchia, Bette. “Bronzino’s Corpus between Ancient Models and Modern Masters.” In Agnolo Bronzino: Medici Court Artist in Conext, ed. Andrea Galdy, 51–66. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013. Toscan, Jean. “Le Carnaval du langage, le lexique erotique des poètes de l’equivoque de Burchiello a Marino (XV e–XVIIe siècles).” PhD diss., Université Paris-Sorbonne, 1978. Tucker, Mark, “Discoveries Made during the Treatment of Bronzino’s Cosimo I de’Medici as Orpheus.” Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin 81.348 (1985): 28–32. Vasari, Giorgio. Le vite dei più eccelenti pittori, scultori e architetti. Ed. Gaetano Milanesi. 8 vols. Florence: Sansoni, 1881.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. 820RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 3

Vredeveld, Harry. “Deaf as Ulysses to the Sirens’ Song: The Story of a Forgotten Topos.” Renaissance Quarterly 54.3 (2001): 856–63. Waldman, Louis. Baccio Bandinelli and Art at the MediciCourt:ACorpusofEarlyModern Sources. Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society, 2004. Zamboni, Silla. “Campi, Antonio.” In Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 17. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1974. Zimmermann, T. C. Price. Paolo Giovio: The Historian and the Crisis of Sixteenth-Century Italy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995. Zimmermann, T. C. Price. “Giovio, Paolo.” In Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani,vol.56. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2001.

Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 26 Sep 2021 at 06:55:52, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use.