CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY, NORTHRIDGE

ANTIQUITY AND THE SISTINE SOJOURN

(1481-1482)

IN THE ART OF

SANDRO BOTTICELLI AND DOMENICO GHIRLANDAIO

Volume 1

A thesis submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in

Art

by

Max Calvin Marmor

May, 1982 ~ • I

The Thesis of Max Calvin Marmor is approved:

anne L. Trabold, Ph.D.

California State University, Northridge

i i This thesis is dedicated to

the immortal words of

Ibn Abad Sina

"Seek not gold in shallow vessels!" (Contra Alchemia, Praefatio)

iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks are due my thesis committee for allowing a maverick to go his own way. Without their contributions, this experience would not have been what it has been. More could be said on this score but, to quote the Devil (whose advice I should have followed from the outset): "Mach es kurz! Am Juengsten Tag ist's nur ein F--z!" So I'll "make it short." I owe special thanks to Dr. Birgitta Wohl, who initially persuaded me that higher education is worthwhile; who expressed unfailing interest in my ideas and progress; and who, throughout, has provided a unique living example of wide learning and humanistic scholarship.

Finally, this thesis could not have been written without the ever prompt, ever courteous services of the

CSUN Library Inter-Library Loan Department. Thanks to

Charlotte (in her many roles}, to Misha and their myriad elves, who, for an unconscionably long time, made every day

Christmas!

iv CONTENTS

Page LIST 01'' FIGURES ...... vii ABSTRACT ...... ix Chapter

INTRODUCTION: CONTEXT AND CRISIS IN THE REVIVAL OF ANTIQUITY. • ••• 1

1. TWO FLORENTINES • • • • • • • 5 The Ognissanti Frescoes . . . . . 5

Ghirlandaio to 1480: Securing a Style 9

Botticelli to 1480: An Albertian Apprentice ship. • • • • • • • . . . 17 2. TWO FACES OF ROME • • ...... 39 Sistine Rome: From Politics to Patronage • • • • • • • • • • . . . . . 39 The Second Face of Rome: Artists as Antiquaries • • • . . . • • 63 3. THE SISTINE SOJOURN • ...... 71 Ghirlandaio in Rome • ...... 71 Botticelli in Rome...... 85 4. GHIRLANDAIO AND THE IMPACT OF ROME. . . 100 The Florentine Synthesis •• . . . . . 100

v Chapter Page The Sassetti Chapel: ...... 104 The Tornabuoni Chapel: . . . . . 121 5. BOTTICELLI AND THE IMPACT OF ROME • 142 Continuity and Discontinuity. • . . . . . 142 Botticelli's Mythologies Reconsidered 151 From Narrative to Vision. • . . . . . 165 CONCLUSION. • ...... • • . . . . 182 The Primacy of Patronage •• 182 The Triumph of Bacchus •• . . . 184 APPENDIXES

A. SISTINE t4AENADS: MEANING AND ~mNNER •• 194 B. FROM PURGATORY TO THE PRIMAVERA • • • . . . 211 c. THE PRIMAVERA: ITS CLASSICAL LITERARY SOURCES • • • • • • • • • . . 252 FIGURES • • ...... 260 WORKS CITED • ...... 345

vi LIST OF FIGURES

Figure Page

1. Botticelli, St. Augustine, Florence, Ognissanti, fresco • • • • • • •• . . . . • 260 2. Ghirlandaio, St. Jerome, Florence Ognissanti, fresco • • • •••••••• 261

3. Ghirlandaio, St. Jerome, St. Barbara and St. Anthony, Cercina, Church, fresco • • • • • • • • • • • • • • . . • • • 262 4. Ghirlandaio, Madonna della Misericordia, Florence, Ognissanti, fresco • • • • •• 263

5. Ghirlandaio, Lamentation of Christ, Florence, Ognissanti, fresco •••••••• 264

6. Ghirlandaio, Death of St. Fina, San Gimignano, Collegiata, fresco ••••••• 265

7. Ghirlandaio, Last Supper, Florence Ognissanti, fresco ••••••••••••• 266

8. Botticelli, Judith and her Maid, panel •••• 267

9. Botticelli, Discovery of the Body of ~olofernes, panel ••••••••••••• 268

10. Botticelli, First Adoration of the Magi, panel • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 269

11. Botticelli, Second Adoration of the Magi, panel • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 270

12. Botticelli, Third Adoration of the Magi, panel • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 271

13. Sistine Chapel, Interior Decoration, Vatican, Rome (after Tognetti) • • • • • • • 272

14. Botticelli, Trials of Moses, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••••••••••••••• 273

vii Figure Page

15. Botticelli, Trials of Christ, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••••••••••••••• 274 16. Ghirlandaio, Calling of the Apostles, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••••••••••• 275

17. Botticelli, Punishment of the Rebellion Against Aaron, Sistine Chapel, fresco • • • 276

18. Perugino, Delivery of the Keys to St. Peter, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••••••• 277

19. Thorn-puller (spinario), antique statue Rome, Capitoline t-1useum •••••••••• 278

20. Rosselli, Last Acts of Moses, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••••••••••••••• 279

21. Judgement of Paris sarcophagus, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 8v • • • • • • • • 280

22. Triton and Nereid relief, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 34r, v . . . • • • 281 23. Nile River-god, antique statue, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 85v • • • • • 282

24. Relaxing Hercules, antique statue, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 37r • 282 25. Botticelli, Fourth (Roman) Adoration of ~he Magi, panel • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 283

26. Horse-tamers (Dioscuri), antique statues, Rome, Quirinal Hill (after Lafreri) •••• 284

27. Ghirlandaio, Sassetti Chapel, Interior Decoration, Florence, s. Trinita • • • • 285 28. Ghirlandaio, Apparition of St. Francis at Arles, drawing • . . . • . • . . . . 286 29. Ghirlandaio, Apparition of St. Francis at Arles, drawing . • . . . • . . . • • . . . . 286 30. Ghirlandaio, St. Francis Reviving the Roman Notary's Son, Sassetti Chapel, fresco • 287

viii Figure Page

31. Ghirlandaio, Confirmation of the Franciscan Rule, Sassetti Chapel, fresco ••••••• 288 32. Ghirlandaio, Death of St. Francis, Sassetti Chapel, fresco • • ••••••••••• 289

33. Ghirlandaio, Vision of Augustus, Sassetti Chapel, fresco ••••••••••••••• 290

34. Ghirlandaio, David, Sassetti Chapel fresco • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 291

35. Ghirlandaio, Adoration of the Shepherds Sassetti Chapel, fresco •••••••••• 292

36. Caffarelli sarcophagus, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 36v . . . . . • • 293 37. G. da Sangallo, Tomb of Francesco Sassetti (Detail), Sassetti Chapel ••••••••• 294 38. Meleager sarcophagus (Detail) ...... • 294 39. Ghirlandaio, Grisailles above Sassetti tomb, Sassetti Chapel, fresco ••••• 295

40. Ghirlandaio, Grisaille above Tomb of Nera Corsi, Sassetti Chapel, fresco ••••••• 295

41. Ghirlandaio, Grisaille above Tomb of Nera ,Corsi, Sassetti Chapel, fresco ••••••• 295

42. Ghirlandaio, Expulsion of Joachim from the Temple, Tornabuoni Chapel, Florence, s. M. Novella, fresco ••••••••••• 296 43. Triton and Nereid sarcophagus, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 5rv • • ••••• 297

44. Ghirlandaio, Birth of the Virgin, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco ••• . . . • • • 298 45. Ghirlandaio, Annunciation to Zacharias, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco • • • • • •• 299

46. Ghirlandaio, Visitation, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco ••••••••••••••• 300

ix Figure Page

47. Grotesques, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 32v • . . . • • . . . • ...... 301 48. Grotesques, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. 13r . • ...... • • . . . • . . 301 49. Grotesques, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. SBr •••••••••••••••••• 302

50. Ghirlandaio, Preaching of St. John, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco ••••• 303 51. Putto, antique statue, Florence, Uffizzi Gallery • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 304

52. Ghirlandaio, Baptism of Christ, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco •• • • • • 305 53. Scythian Executioner, antique statue, Florence, Uffizzi Gallery ••••••••• 306 54. Ghirlandaio, Presentation of the Virgin, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco • • • • • • • 307

55. Belvedere 'Torso, antique Statue, Vatican Museum • • • • • • • • • • • • • 308

56. Davide Ghirlandaio, Belvedere Torso, drawing • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 309

57. Ghirlandaio, Birth of the Baptist, 'Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco ••• • • w 310

58. Canephor, drawing, Codex Escurialensis, fol. Slv •••••••••••••••••• 311

59. a-b) Botticelli, Episodes from the Tale of Nostagio degli Onesti, panel • • • • • • 312 59. c-d) Botticelli, Further Episodes from the Tale of Nostagio degli Onesti, panel • • 313

60. Botticelli, Story of Lucretia, panel ••••• 314 61. Botticelli, Story of Virginia, panel •• • 315

X Figure Page

62. a-b) Botticelli, Episodes from the Legend of St Zenobius, panel • • • • • • • 316

62. c-d) Botticelli, Further Episodes from the Legend of St. Zenobius, panel • • • • • • • 317 63. Botticelli, Primavera, panel ...... • • 318 64. Priamo della Quercia(?), The Earthly Paradise, miniature to Cantos xxvii-xxviii of Dante's Purgatorio, Sienese Codex of Dante • • • • • 319 65. Endymion Sarcophagus (after Reinach) . . . • • 320 66. Siena Graces, antique statue group, Siena Cathedral, Piccolimini Library • • • • • 320

67. Pomona, antique statue, Uffizi Gallery •• 320

68. Gozzoli, Angels (Detail from Adoration), panel • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 321 69. Botticelli, Birth of Venus, panel . . . . • • 3 22 70. Medici Verius, antique statue, Florence, Uffizi Gallery • • • • • • • • • •• • 3 23 71. Birth of Venus, antique gem . . . . • 323 72. Tazza Farnese, antique cameo • . . . . . • 324 73. Botticelli, Pallas and the Centaur, panel •• 325

74. Judgement of Paris sarcophagus, Rome, Villa Medici • • • • • • • • • • • . . . . • 326 75. Botticelli, Mars and Venus, panel . . . . . • 326 76. Bacchus and Ariadne sarcophagus, Rome, Vatican Museum • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 327 77. Verrocchio, Baptism of Christ, panel . . • 328 78. Venus Cytherea, woodcut from Poliziano, Stanze per la Giostra • • • • • • • • • • • 329

79. Ghirlandio, Massacre of the Innocents, Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco ••••••••• 330

xi Figure Page

80. Column of Marcus Aurelius (Detail), Rome ••• 331 81. Arch of Constantine (Detail), Rome . . . . . • 331 82. Maenad, Neo-Attic relief, Rome, Villa Medici • • • • • • • • • • ...... • 331 83. Botticelli, Calumny of Apelles, panel . . • • 332 84. Ghiberti, Gates of Paradise (Detail), Florence, Baptistery •••••••••••• 333

85. Maenad, Neo-Attic relief, Rome, Villa Medici • • • • • • • • • • . . . . . • • 334 86. Filippo Lippi, Birth of the Virgin (Detail), panel •••••••• • • 334

87. Ghirlandaio, Birth of the Baptist (Detail), Tornabuoni Chapel, fresco ••••••• 334

88. A. Pollaiuolo, Birth of St. John (Detail), bronze relief • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 335

89. Perugino and Pinturicchio, Circumcision of Moses' Son, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••• 336

90. Rosselli, Crossing of the Red Sea, Sistine Chapel, fresco ••••• . . . • • • 337 91. Barberini Master, panel showing reliefs ~ll'antica ••••••••••••• . . . • 338 92. Botticelli, Abundance, drawing . . . . . • 339 93. Sleeping Nymph, antique statue, Colocci Garden (after Montfaucon) ••••• 340

94. Sleeping Nymph, antique Statue, Carpi Garden (after Rubeis) . . . . • • • • 341 95. Vatican Ariadne-Cleopatra, Rome, Vatican Belvedere (after de Holanda) •••• 342

96. Vatican Ariadne-Cleopatra, Rome, Stanza della Cleopatra (after de Holanda) • 342

xii Figure Page

97. Botticelli, The Earthly Paradise, drawing to Canto xxviii of Dante's Purgatorio • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 343

xiii 9 .

ABSTRACT

ANTIQUITY AND THE SISTINE SOJOURN

(1481-1482)

IN THE ART OF

SANDRO BOTTICELLI AND DOMENICO GHIRLANDAIO

by

Max Calvin Marmor

Master of Arts in Art

This is a study of classical influences in the art of two contemporary Florentine painters of the Renaissance,

Sandro Botticelli and Domenico Ghirlandaio. The approach adopted is comparative, the arrangement of material chronological.

Botticelli and Ghirlandaio collaborated in the initial decoration of the Sistine Chapel in Rome

(1481-82). This joint sojourn in the Eternal City was of fundamental importance in their careers, and it forms the core around which this study revolves.

xiv The divergent attitudes of Botticelli and

Ghirlandaio toward classical antiquity were defined during their Sistine sojourn. This thesis attempts to provide an illuminating context for these developments by relating them to the artists' distinctive styles as formed during their early Florentine years. The reciprocal relationship between style and style all'antica is one of the principal themes of this study.

A second recurring theme in this thesis is the crucial importance of patronage. Neither stylistic evolution nor the appropriation of antiquity occurred in a vacuum. In this study it is shown how the demands of patronage obstructed the evolution of Botticelli's style all'antica while Ghirlandaio's was allowed to develop undisturbed.

XV INTRODUCTION

CONTEXT AND CRISIS IN THE REVIVAL OF ANTIQUITY

Botticelli and Ghirlandaio present a curious bibliographic paradox. The literature on Botticelli is

immense but uneven, while that on Ghirlandaio, though

smaller in scope, tends to be more uniformly scholarly.

The importance of Botticelli's and Ghirlandaio's sojourn in

Rome while working in the Sistine Chapel (1481-82) is generally conceded. But, since the pioneering studies of

Aby Warburg, surprisingly little has been written about

Botticelli's encounter with Rome or the influence of antiquity in his works. And, while these aspects of

Ghirlandaio's career have been studied, this has been done from a rather narrowly archeological point of view. Anyone curious about the role of the Sistine sojourn in the artistic evolution of these artists will receive little direct assistance in the literature. This study aims to fill this gap in a preliminary fashion.

In order to anchor the Sistine sojourn firmly within an artistic context, it is here viewed against the

1 2

background of the painters' early styles as defined during

their formative years in Florence. The stylistic

continuity between their early Florentine works and their

Roman productions is demonstrated; style is seen to have determined style all'antica.

The styles of Botticelli and Ghirlandaio are

notoriously different--as different as poetry and prose.

On the other hand, they were contemporaries and Florentine

to the core. They also shared many common experiences,

foremost among them, perhaps, the experience of Rome. And

they collaborated on a number of occasions, of which their work in the Sistine Chapel was the most important. This rare combination of formally analogous developments and substantially different styles makes a comparison of them potentially rewarding. While this study is not modelled on

Plutarch's Parallel Lives, the careers of Botticelli and Ghirlandaio are here charted in counterpoint, with an emphasis upon crucial occasions of their collaboration.

Thus their tandem frescoes in the Florentine Church of

Ognissanti are used as a lens through which their early

Florentine styles may be examined. And their Roman works, in the Sistine Chapel and elsewhere, are studied as documents of their initial responses to Rome which also demonstrate the continuity of their Roman styles all'antica with their early manners. 3

This continuity notwithstanding, Rome was a revelation to both Botticelli and Ghirlandaio. Their Roman works look both backward and forward. This study attempts to do more than place these works in a stylistic context; it seeks to discover in them the roots of the artists' later styles all'antica, to capture these mature styles in their genesis.

The Roman styles of Botticelli and Ghirlandaio survived their return to Florence and it will be shown that they came to define the painters' abiding attitudes toward classical imagery. But in the Florence of the 1480s the parallel courses charted by Botticelli and Ghirlandaio parted company. Ghirlandaio's style all'antica will be shown to have continued to develop in his major works. By contrast, Botticelli's style survived orily in minor works dealing with classical subjects; in his major works involving antique themes, his Roman style all'antica was in abeyance. This divergence is approached here from the perspective of patronage. From this standpoint Rome represents a crossroads in the careers of Botticelli and

Ghirlandaio. It is shown that Pope Sixtus IV, who called them to Rome, was a most domineering patron, but that both artists managed to follow their own lights in evolving congenial approaches to classical imagery during their

Roman sojourn. Back in Florence, Ghirlandaio still enjoyed considerable liberty in this area. His major patrons 4 permitted his classical style to develop smoothly.

Botticelli's major patron, on the other hand, will here be shown to have occasioned a crisis in the painter's stylistic development and, consequently, in the evolution of his style all'antica. It will be·argued that the result of this crisis was that singular genre among Botticelli's works: the mythological paintings. Chapter 1

TWO FLORENTINES

The Ognissanti Frescoes

To appreciate the impact of their encounter with

Rome upon Botticelli and Ghirlandaio, one must have some notion of their early artistic aims, concerns and styles.

Toward this end, and generally to provide a point of departure for the discussion to follow, it seems well to begin with an examination of their pendant frescoes in the

Florentine Church of Ognissanti, painted on the eve of their departure for Rome, in 1480. For these Ognissanti frescoes both typify and consummate the stylistic development of Ghirlandaio and Botticelli prior to their

Roman sojourn.

On this occasion Botticelli was assigned a fresco of St. Augustine, Ghirlandaio one of St. Jerome (Figs. 1,

2). Situated on either side of a doorway giving access to the choir, the two saints are depicted in their monastic cells, writing at their desks amid the books and sundry paraphernalia of the scholar's study.

5 6

These frescoes reflect, in all probability, a

Netherlandish model, not unlike the well-known St. Jerome attributed to Jan Van Eyck and Petrus Christus, once owned by Cosimo de' Medici. 1 Given the likelihood of northern ancestry, it becomes evident that Ghirlandaio has remained remarkably faithful to his model. He is at great pains to reproduce convincingly and in detail the varied assortment of objects in Jerome's study. This fidelity may be due in part to Ghirlandaio's having been assigned the subject corresponding most closely to the Flemish model. That

Botticelli was called upon to portray St. Augustine, not

Jerome, may have left him a freer hand, for while Jerome was the scholar-saint par excellence, Augustine was cast in a more visionary mold. Certainly this is true of

Botticelli's painting: intense, austere, monumental, this saint departs strikingly from the Flemish sobriety and prosaic discursiveness of his counterpart. But there is more to be said on this score.

In his recent monograph on Botticelli, Lightbown has shown how the two Ognissanti frescoes belong together thematically, not merely as pendant portraits of two great

Church Fathers, but in a more precise sense. Taking his

1L. Ettlinger (with H. Ettlinger), Botticelli (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), pp. 29-30; A. Rosenauer, "Zum Stil der fruehen Werke Domenico Ghirlandajos," Wiener Jahrbuch fuer Kunstgeschichte. 22 (1969), 62-63, n. 20. 7

cue from the time shown on the clock in Augustine's study,

roughly sunset, Lightbown argues convincingly that

Botticelli's fresco really depicts St. Augustine's first

vision of St. Jerome on the day of the latter's death. The

account of this event contained in an apocryphal epistle

allegedly written by St. Augustine to St. Cyril of

Jerusalem was often included, along with other similar

writings, in editions of Jerome's works. This epistle

enjoyed great popularity and between 1475 and 1500 was

printed many times both in Latin and in Italian. The gist

of the letter is that, as St. Jerome lay dying in

Jerusalem, Augustine, seated at that very hour at day's end

in his cell at Hippo, was vouchsafed a vision of the . . . 2 exp~r~ng sa~nt.

vasari, in his Life of Botticelli, writes that in

his St. Augustine the painter has depicted "the air of

profound meditation and subtle perception characteristic of men who ponder continuously on difficult and elevated

matters." 3 Thanks to Lightbown's astuteness, Vasari's

interpretation can be refined. Botticelli offered a portrayal of St. Augustine, his brow still furrowed from

concentrated study, starting at the vision and the voice of

2R. Lightbown, Sandro Botticelli (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), I, 50-51.

3G. Vasari, Le Vite de' piu eccelenti pittori, scultori e architettori, ed. G. Milanese (1906; rpt. Florence: Sansoni, 1973), III, p. 311; trans. G. Bull, Lives of the Artists: A Selection (Rev. ed. 1971; rpt. Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1976), p. 225. 8

St. Jerome. His left hand has paused in the act of writing; his right rises to his breast, reflecting distraction as well as a sense of being addressed by the

image of Jerome. Augustine peers up at the golden rays emanating from the visionary presence and opens his mouth, in accordance with the epistle which describes Augustine's query as to the identity of the apparition. Botticelli's achievement is thus to have bettered the instruction of the ancients as related by Alberti: not content with registering the "movements of the mind" as these are conveyed by gesture and expression, Botticelli has portrayed the transition from one state of mind to another. 4

The stylistic contrast between the two frescoes must have been sustained and deepened by the iconographic program underlying the decoration as detailed by

Lightbown. For the more monumental, "visionary" approach which Botticelli's assignment called for tends, by contrast, to point up the sobriety and discursiveness of 5 Ghirlandaio's work. This is not to say that these

4L. B. Alberti, On Painting and On Sculpture: The Latin Texts of De Pictura and De Statua, ed. and trans. by c. Grayson (London: Phaidon, 1972), pp. 60-93 passim. Lightbown, I, 52.

5J. Lauts, Domenico Ghirlandajo (Vienna: Schroll, 1943), p. 14, contrasts Ghirlandaio's "friendly genre image" and Botticelli's Augustine, "passionate and stirred by prophetic agitation." 9 qualities of Ghirlandaio's fresco are wholly reducible to an accidental combination of a foreign model closely adhered to and a strict iconographic program. Rather, these characteristics of Ghirlandaio's St. Jerome reflect the course of his early development as an artist.

No extended discussion of Ghirlandaio's early works is called for here. His Florentine years to 1480 were years of harvest, during which he mastered and made his own the artistic traditions of his native city. He took what he could from his forerunners and his contemporary environment, consolidated his gains and emerged with a manner and virtues of his own. A brief survey of these developments will show the emergence of Ghirlandaio's most characteristic traits and tendencies.

Ghirlandaio to 1480: Securing a Style6

Ghirlandaio's earliest surviving work is a group of three saints in fresco from the Church of Cercina, near

Florence (Fig. 3). Executed in the late 1460s, this effort suggests the influence of certain important figures of the mid-Quattrocento. The figure of the pagan prince at St.

Barbara's feet, really his first exercise in foreshortening, bespeaks the painter's study of Uccello.

6Lauts, pp. 5-16; Rosenauer, passim; E. Steinmann, Ghirlandajo (Bielefeld: Delhagen and Klasing, 1897), pp. 3-16; c. Davies, Domenico Ghirlandaio (New York: Scribners, 1909) is seriously out of date. 10

At the same time, St. Jerome recalls forcibly Castagno's portrayal of the saint in ss. Annunziata, the similarity extending even to the colors employed; and the insistent definition of anatomical elements points in the same direction. Ghirlandaio's attempt to define and relate his figures by means of the handling of light and atmosphere suggest that he had looked at the work of Domenico

Veneziano attentively and with profit.

Thus this early work testifies to the young painter's industry and diligent willingness to submit to instruction. These were qualities Ghirlandaio would retain throughout his brief career. Yet already one feature which would become prominent in the artist's mature creations is present prophetically: the architectural framework serving as the stage for the saints--strong pilasters, with a well-defined, multifaceted cornice and three framing niches--is executed ably, confidently and decorously.

Ghirlandaio would later be a master of such "stage settings." 7

In the early 1470s, Ghirlandaio was commissioned by the Vespucci family to paint a fresco of the Madonna della

Misericordia in the Church of Ognissanti (Fig. 4). The composition adopted clearly echoes an earlier treatment of

7Below, Chap. 4 Sec. 3, for another facet of this style. 11 the same subject by Filippo Lippi. 8 But already at this stage Ghirlandaio has gone beyond Lippi in the convincing characterization of a variety of human types. This is a second facet of Ghirlandaio's art which would stand out throughout his career and lead to his becoming one of the foremost portrait painters of his time and the favorite of of patrons desirous of perpetuating their own images in art.

Perhaps a few years later, Ghirlandaio added to this fresco a Lamentation of Christ (Fig. 5), lower on the wall. The devout serenity of this painting suggests

Northern influence, as do the types of the sacred personages, particularly the rather small Christ with his close-shorn beard. The onlookers, by contrast, are objectively characterized in the painter's nascent manner, like those in the Ognissanti Madonna.

These early works clearly reveal an artist promising but still under the tutelage of his great forerunners. This is somewhat less the case in

Ghirlandaio's frescoes in the funerary chapel of St. Fina at San Gimignano. Completed in 1475, these frescoes form the painted complement to the architectural and sculptural framework provided by the brothers Maiano. Ghirlandaio painted two scenes for the chapel: the Annunciation of the

8 Lauts, p. 8. 12

Death of St. Fina and the Death of St. Fina. Here the artist has mastered his lessons: the perspective is flawless and echoed by various compositional devices; his handling of light permits formal definition while underscoring the solemnity of the scenes; and the figures are convincingly modelled and ably grouped.

The Death of St. Fina (Fig. 6) shows once more the influence of Lippi, whose Burial of St. Stephen in Prato

Cathedral features that same arrangement and grouping of figures. But here again Ghirlandaio's hard-won independence is revealed. One of Lippi's characteristic traits is his failure to truly unify his architecture with his figures. In his Prato fresco they remain typically independent, while Ghirlandaio melds them to lend his scene a convincingly unified spatial context. 9 At the same time, Ghirlandaio's figure groups gain credibility through his introduction of a variety of gestures and especially his sharp individual characterization.

In 1475 Ghirlandaio was called to Rome along with his brother and assistant Davide to take part in the decoration of the sala latina of the new Vatican Library.

The brothers were assigned a series of pagan philosophers and Church Fathers in half-figure. The monotonous, dry

9 Lauts, p. 11; Lippi's Prato frescoes recently discussed in E. Borsook, "Fra Filippo Lippi and the l-iurals for Prato Cathedral," Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Instituts in Florenz. 19 (1975), 1-148. 13

execution of the work must be laid to Davide's account,

only the initial designs being by Domenico. 10 This finds

confirmation in the fact that the papal registers mention

Davide with some frequency during this period, but Domenico 11 only once. It may have been on this occasion that

Ghirlandaio executed a series of frescoes in s. Maria Sopra

Minerva for Giovanni Tornabuoni, later one of his major 12 patrons; but these have vanished.

The influence of Verrocchio opened the way for

Ghirlandaio to introduce life and movement into his figures which tended to be brittle and dry. Thus a Madonna and

Child with Saints of the late 1470s features an actively gesticulating Christ child; and quite generally,

Verrocchio's influence is evident during this period, in

figural treatment and types, in drapery motifs and

especially in the Madonna type which Ghirlandaio 13 adopted.

10Lauts, p. 13; T. Yuen, "The 'Bibliotheca Graeca': Castagno, Alberti, and Ancient Sources," The Burlington Magazine. 112 No. 812 (November, 1970),~6.

11E. Muentz, Les Arts a la cour des papes pendant le xve siecle: receuil de documents inedits tires des archives et des bibliothegues romaines (Paris: Thorin, 1878-82), III, 119-122.

12Lauts, p. 13.

13Lauts, pp. 13-14; K. Oberhuber, "Le Probleme des premieres oeuvres de Verrocchio," Revue de l'art. No. 42 ( 1978)' 63-76. 14

The 1480 Last Supper which Ghirlandaio painted for the refectory of the Ognissanti provides conclusive evidence that, notwithstanding the impact of Verrocchio, he continued to steer by his own lights in important respects. He probably knew Castagno's Last Supper in s.

Maria Novella. If this bore any resemblance at all to the same artists well-known Sant' Apollonia Last Supper, it can safely be said that neither Castagno's example nor that of

Verrocchio's virile and agitated style influenced

Ghirlandaio's treatment (Fig. 7). His customary sobriety still prevails. His formal mastery--evident in his grouping of the figures which anticipates Leonardo's classic solution and in his characteristically masterly handling of architectural space--is still not matched by any dramatic suggestion of the thoughts, emotions or motives of the characters portrayed. Ghirlandaio, though he would come to excel in the capturing of human character and individual ethos, and thus emerge as one of the outstanding portraitists of his generation, never progressed to the portrayal of pathos. 14

This brief overview of Ghirlandaio's early development confirms the contention voiced above. The sobriety, objectivity and almost Flemish discursiveness which make Ghirlandaio's Ognissanti St. Jerome a first

14 Lauts, p. 14. 15 cousin to a genre image are characteristic of his early works and merely find their fullest expression in the

St. Jerome.

Botticelli's assignment in the Ognissanti commission called for a more expansive, monumental approach than that of Ghirlandaio. It is also likely that this necessity liberated him to some extent from the tyranny of the model. However, it is true in Botticelli's case, as in that of Ghirlandaio, that the salient features of his

Ognissanti fresco illustrate his artistic development to

1480.

The demands made upon Ghirlandaio in his pre-Sistine commissions were limited in scope. For example, he was only assigned, to the best of our knowledge, one theme calling for explicit narrative: the

Ognissanti Last Supper. And in this singular instance

Ghirlandaio was working in a tradition from which he departed in some respects; but, as indicated, this was not in favor of narrative drama. To the contrary, here

Ghirlandaio's tendency to be anecdotal is quite unmistakable. 15

A more general restriction in Ghirlandaio's early works revolves around the matter of tradition. He was not called upon to invent new compositions involving large

15Rosenauer, pp. 79-83. 16 figural ensembles. His Lamentation, Madonna della

Misericorda, Death of St. Fina--all were variations on conventional compositional schemes. Ghirlandaio's innovations are typically found in sharper characterization and increased sophistication of architectural ornament and setting. He varied the figural formats of his respective models to accent the spatial qualities of the scene, not to heighten the dramatic interrelationship of the protagonists.

Botticelli's early commissions set him more taxing tasks in both these respects. Time and again his assignments called for narrative compositions, frequently in the absence of compositional prototypes. Thus, unlike

Ghirlandaio, Botticelli was thrown back upon his own resources for the invention of novel compositional schemes. Moreover, not a few such commissions required the deployment of large groups of figures. Thus the early

Botticelli should be expected to display a marked concern with elements of his craft less in evidence in

Ghirlandaio's works of this period. And this helps explain the obvious as well as the more subtle differences between the two colleagues' frescoes in the Ognissanti. 17

Botticelli to 1480: an Albertian Apprenticeship16

Botticelli's early development is in many respects a very complex affair; it cannot be rehearsed in the rather schematic fashion appropriate to Ghirlandaio. Although a good deal is known about his teacher, Fra Filippo Lippi, it is not feasible to evaluate Botticelli's early work solely by means of a balance sheet of influences and innovations.

The influence of Lippi is evident throughout Botticelli's career, and, like Ghirlandaio, Botticelli profited from much of what Florence had to offer. Still, it is not easy in this case to distill specific "influences" out of the final brew. Botticelli was a subtle alchemist from the outset; he seems to have eschewed traditional or easy solutions; and as noted, he was frequently called upon to explore realms not often visited and sparsely populated.

Those aspects of Botticelli's early art to which this discussion will be confined can be traced throughout the full range of his pre-Sistine oeuvre. But there are a handful of representative works which display Botticelli's considerable powers of invention in compositional schemes, figure types and the naturalistic rendering of dramatic subjects and human emotions. Taking these few works as a point of departure, and a point of repair, should permit

16 Lightbown, I, 13-58; H. Horne, Botticelli, Painter of Florence (1908; rpt. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), pp. 1-86; J. Mesnil, Botticelli (Paris: Michel, 1938), pp. 1-72; Ettlinger, pp. 17-47, offer the best accounts of Botticelli's early years. 18 demonstration of the integrity of aim and the uniformity of execution underlying the early works of Botticelli.

Two small panels depicting the biblical episode of

Judith and Holofernes furnish an excellent starting 17 point. Although Judith was a popular character in fifteenth-century art and in the popular imagination,

Botticelli set aside traditional treatments of the subject and sought to reenact two passages from the biblical tale in naturalistic terms. This was a remarkable departure, for generally the symbolic or allegorical element had been stressed in Quattrocento versions of the Judith theme, both

1n. scu 1 p t ure and 1n . pa1n . t.1ng. 18

Botticelli portrays Judith in the first panel as she returns to the city of Bethalia after slaying

Holofernes in his tent in the Assyrian camp (Fig. 8). By use of a split focus, Botticelli was able to telescope the events related in the Bible: as Judith and her maid Abra proceed across the foreground, in the valley below the outcome of the episode is seen, as the Israelites attack their enemies in a foray designed to provoke the discovery of the dead Assyrian leader.

This latter event is depicted in the companion panel (Fig. 9). The Discovery of the Body of Holofernes,

17The biblical account: the apocryphal Book of Judith.

18Lightbown, I, 26. 19 rarely portrayed in Renaissance painting, is even more impressive than its pendant as an index of Botticelli's great resources of dramatic invention. The corpse of the beheaded chieftain sprawls at center stage, its anatomical mastery suggesting forcibly the impact of Antonio

Pollaiuolo as well as a study of the nude. Facing the beholder, the Assyrian soldiers and royal retainers are so many experiments in the portrayal of shock, terror and grief.

These two panels are alike in their attempt to convincingly relate dramatic events in naturalistic terms.

In the Discovery this involved an attempt to render diverse emotions by means of facial expressions and expressive gesture. The only figure seemingly divorced from the central action of the scene, the soldier gazing upwards at the right, recalls a motif found in Lippi as well as in some of Botticelli's other youthful works. Though undeniably episodic and out of joint with the rest of the narrative, this solitary figure counteracts the decidedly 19 centr1peta. 1 f orce o f t h e ac t.1on.

The Judith is less reliant upon the expressive resources of gesture and facial expression. But here too the stress is on narrative rather than symbolic content.

19Lightbown, I, 28. 20

As noted, this is the more remarkable in view of the

conventional approach to the theme.

Most instructive for Botticelli's aims as a painter

is the series of variations upon the theme of the Adoration

of the Magi he painted during this period. Precisely

because this was a favorite theme in Quattrocento

art--Lippi's well-known tondo has clearly influenced

Botticelli--much can be learned from the changes which the

latter introduced into the treatment of this subject.

These changes were uniformly in the direction of greater

naturalism, heightened expressiveness, and narrative drama,

and away from static symbolism. 20

The Adoration of the Magi played a large part not

only in Florentine art but also in Florentine life. The

Compagnia dei Magi was one of the major Florentine

religious confraternities. Their pageant, held every five years, included outstanding civic personages as well as

princes and noblemen. In their rich, exotic costumes, th ese mus t h ave seemed v1s1tants. . f rom anoth er t1me. . 21

This traditional ornateness and extravagance carried over

into paintings of the theme. The allegorical apparatus of pageantry was transposed for the wall and the panel. For

20 Lippi's tondo ill. in Ettlinger, Fig. 16; Botticelli's series discussed in Lightbown, I, 22-26, 34-35, 44-46; Ettlinger, pp. 32-45; Mesnil, pp. 35-41. 21 R. Hatfield, "The Compagnia dei Magi," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 33 (1976), 107-161. 21

example, the motif of classical ruins frequently turns up

in paintings of the Adoration, symbolizing the Temple of

Peace which, tradition held, collapsed at the birth of

Christ, a visible sign of the advent of the New . . 22 D1spensat1on.

Also characteristic of Adorations is the menagerie

of exotic animals and birds which may also be found in the versions by Botticelli. While some are doubtless merely episodic, ornamental decorative elements in the conventionally sumptuous treatment of the theme, others, notably the ubiquitous peacock, are symbolic creatures demanded by the iconography of the Epiphany. 23

Episodic is an accurate label for this subject as traditionally rendered in the fifteenth century. But

Botticelli, in his series of Adorations, progressively departed from this conventional approach, replete with symbolic elements, toward his own characteristically more concentrated and dramatic style. Along the way he systematically replaced or transformed disjunctive symbolism in favor of dramatic expression and narrative

Unl't y. 24

Botticelli's first Adoration of the Magi (Fig. 10), a panel in the National Gallery, London, dating from the

22 Below, at n. 218. 23Lightbown, I, 25.

24Mesnil, Lightbown and Ettlinger concur on this matter. 22

1460s, was also his first narrative istoria. 25 It is remarkably beholden to the traditional handling of the subject. The long, narrow format recalls Masaccio's version of the Adoration, but that is as far as the similarity goes. For this comparison illustrates the transformation the theme underwent in the course of the century, as Masaccio's naturalism gave way by mid-century to the sort of decorative display represented by Gozzoli's frescoes in the Medici Palace, where secular extravagance and religious symbolism celebrated one of their greatest t r1ump. h s. 26

Despite his neat structural division of the background, Botticelli's panel lacks dramatic focus: the center of narrative interest does not correspond to the visual focus of the scene. At the same time the panel lacks narrative unity. The traditional episodic approach still predominates@ The individual figures tell much the same tale. The Magi as well as the Holy Family are types, not individually characterized; nor are they differentiated according to their emotional reactions to the event they witness.

25Lightbown, I, 22.

26Masaccio's Adoration ill. in F. Hartt, A History of Italian Renaissance Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture (2d ed.; New York: Abrams, 1979), Fig. 219; Gozzoli's frescoes: E. H. Gombrich, "The Early Medici as Patrons of Art," in Norm and Form (London: Phaidon, 1966), pp. 46-48. 23

Among the ancillary figures, however, a new note is sounded. Several figures are rendered in a style of expressive naturalism anticipating Botticelli's later manner~ and random figures are persuasively related by their actions and gestures. It has been suggested that only these more naturalistic figures are owed to

Botticelli, the panel having been begun by Lippi. But

Lightbown is more convincing in suggesting that the panel was painted over a period of time, these more expressive figures being later than the others and reflecting the painter's development in the interim. 27

When Botticelli next turned to the theme of the

Adoration, a few years later, he adopted the tondo format

Lippi had earlier used (Fig. 11). Botticelli sacrificed less in terms of visual creditability and consistency to this difficult format than did his teacher: He established the point of view high enough to permit the lucid deployment of numerous fully visible figures in the space thus created.

Botticelli's architectural and perspective devices, his color and placing of figures, all enhance the unified spatial focus upon the Holy Family. Thus a defect of his first version is remedied; but, thanks to the point of view adopted in the tendo, this focal point is overshadowed in

27Lightbown, I, 23. 24

magnitude by the foreground arc of figures. The thematic

and visual focus of the tondo is implied only. For this

reason, his copiously varied secondary figures receive

undue attention--undue, that is, in the economy of the

painter's dramatic evocation of the Epiphany.

Still, it is true that these figures mark an

improvement over the entourage in the previous version.

The effort at dramatic integration has appropriated several

figural groups, if not the entire cast, which for the rest

is more convincingly realized and related to the center of

narrative interest, the Holy Family.

In 1475 Botticelli returned to this theme. The

so-called Del Lama Adoration (Fig. 12), now in the Uffizi,

again signals considerable progress. Compositionally, it

represents a synthesis of the two previous versions; the

visual unity of the tondo has been wedded with the clarity and relief-like concentration on the foreground of the

first version. As for the dramatic content of the panel, what first meets the eye is the restrained, sober mood here

in evidence. The way in which surface vivacity has given over to a deepened devotional mood while sacrificing nothing in terms of drama may owe something to the desires

of the patron. It is generally thought that representatives of three generations of the Medici family are here cast in the role of the Magi. This may have borne with it a burden of decorum. In any case, with the sole 25

exception of the pair of youths at the left, all the

elements of this painting, rich in dramatic overtones, are

ably focused upon the heart of the narrative, the Holy

F am1.'1 y. 28

Thus the sequence of Botticelli's Adorations

reveals the painter undertaking to displace overt symbolic

elements, by their nature disjunctive compositionally and

resistant to narrative integration, by naturalistic imagery

and concentrated drama. His marked penchant for expression

is placed in the service of this overriding aim.

Another version of this theme was begun by

Botticelli but remained a sketch and is now in the Uffizi.

In this version the restraint and devotional mood of the

Del Lama Adoration is nowhere in evidence; instead a miracle is witnessed as perceived by an entourage of simple folk whose awe swells into a tide of commotion which sweeps aside all distinction of rank. The keynote of this version

is the moving power of divine mystery over the human soul;

28 R. Hatfield, Botticelli's Uffizi Adoration: A Study in Pictorial Content (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), has been harshly received by the reviewers: L. Ettlinger, "New Books on Botticelli," The Burlington Magazine. 120 No. 903 (June, 1978), 397-398; C. Gould, reviewing Lightbown, "Sandre Botticelli: A Discriminating Assessment," Apollo. N.S., 108, 280-281, contrasts Lightbown's study with the "crass example" of a "recent American monograph on a famous religious picture by Botticelli" by which he can only mean Hatfield's study. Still, this is the fullest study of the painting and therefore useful. 26

it is evidenced by the Magi themselves, as well as in their

reta1ners,. grooms, and rest1ve . h orses. 29

Botticelli's preference for naturalistically cast

human drama is also apparent in a category of paintings no

less symbolic as conventionally handled, offering indeed

even less opportunity for dramatic naturalism: the

traditional Madonna and Child.

Of the many paintings of the subject in a style

broadly Botticellian, two are widely given to the young

master: the Chigi Madonna and Child and that in Naples. In

both, the Madonna is portrayed as the Queen of Heaven

attended by angels. 30

In the Naples version, the figures are situated

within the traditional confines of the hortus conclusus or

"enclosed garden" symbolic of the inviolate purity of the

Virgin. This naturalistic setting with symbolic overtones

also dominates the background, where a tower in a hilly

landscape refers implicitly, but only implicitly, to the

tower of David, recalling another epithet of the Virgin,

turr1s. d av1'd' 1ca. 31 The angels attendant upon the Virgin

and Child are firmly modelled, their expression more

intense than anything found, for example, in Lippi's

29 Ill. in Mesnil, Pl. 31.

30Ill. in Lightbown, I, Pls. 10-11; discussed by Lightbown, I, 29-30.

31Lightbown, I, 29. 27

treatments of this subject. The understated drama of the

Virgin's pensive acquiescence in her Child's fate is

written in her countenance and downcast gaze.

The Chigi Madonna and Child is even more striking

as an attempt to convey religious doctrine by naturalistic

means. Here the setting is similar to that in the Naples

version, and similarly significant; but the far wall of the

enclosure has been pierced, revealing a distant vista of

hills and water, crafted with a mastery of atmospheric

perspective bespeaking Netherlandish influence, as do the

steeple and towers on either bank of the stream that

meanders through the distant landscape. The grapes and

corn proffered by an angel, in isolation an admirable

still-life, refer conventionally to the bread and wine of

the Eucharist; and the Virgin's pensive posture of

acceptance is eloquent.

It was thus the young Botticelli's intention to

invest natural imagery with dimensions of meaning

traditionally reserved for more or less overtly symbolic motifs. Compositions consisting of a mosaic of such heterogeneous elements he sought to replace by compositions

featuring visual coherence and narrative concentration and consistency.

In this endeavor Botticelli is representative of an important and familiar trend in Renaissance painting.

Running like a bridge across the fourteenth and fifteenth 28 centuries, with Giotto, Masaccio, Donatello, the late

Ghiberti, Piero and Leonardo as some of its mainstays, this trend long dominated accounts of Renaissance art. It is variously referred to as "naturalistic" or "illusionistic," less often as "realistic"; and its critical credo may be found in the Aristotelian doctrine of "imitation" of nature. 32

Botticelli is not always thought of in this context, but the context itself is familiar enough. An enhanced awareness of the role of classical and religious typical motifs and traditional formulas in Renaissance painting has reduced the domain allotted to naturalism in the art of the period. Still, it is generally recognized that this was one area wherein Renaissance artists could hope and claim to surpass the venerable ancients. 33

Familiar though it is, it is not clear that the last word has been said on this subject. In a stimulating lecture some five years ago, for example, E. H. Gombrich tried to draw some parallels between the rise of naturalism in Greek art--the "Greek Revolution"--and the similar development in Renaissance art. He criticized the purely formal charting of these developments, stressing that "form

32 Hartt, pp. 192 and passim.

33E. H. Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation (2d ed. 1961; rpt. New York: Pantheon, 1965), pp. 23-25, discusses these developments in scholarship. 29 follows function" and that in each period "naturalism" was a means to an end. This "end" Gombrich found in precisely the kind of "dramatic evocation" of historical, legendary or imagined events seen to have been a goal of the young

Botticelli. 34

If, within this naturalistic trend in Quattrocento painting, Botticelli's early works still seem somewhat misplaced, this is surely due to the fact that this was not the only nor the broadest strain in the art of the period.

For by the 1460s the heritage of Masaccio had, at least in

Florence, been assimilated to the decorative, ornate and linear "Gothic" style which indeed never lost its hold on the imagination of a segment of Florentine society and the

Florentine artistic community. Botticelli's naturalistic essays must be seen within this context, too. The obstacles he had to overcome are suggested by the fact that his teacher, Lippi, while he was one of the prime representatives of the "Quattrocento Gothic," had been a pupil of Masaccio. Two trends flowed in the art of

Botticelli. In the Florence of his youth the "ends" of painting were not on the whole those of Masaccio. In the absence of the striving for dramatic evocation, the "means" to this "end"--mastery of anatomy, perspective, the

34 E. H. Gombrich, Means and Ends: Reflections on the History of Fresco Painting (London: Thames and Hudson, 1976), passim; the "Greek Revolution": Gombrich, Art and Illusion, pp. 116-145. 30

handling of light and color--came to be pursued as ends in themselves. Occasionally those bewitched by new technical means ended up succumbing to the renewed taste for the

"Gothic"--for example, Uccello. 35

Thus while Ghirlandaio, whose early work though naturalistic enough scarcely strives for dramatic effects, was pursuing the letter of Renaissance illusionism,

Botticelli seems to have been rethinking the entire matter of its spirit. And though trained in the workshop of

Lippi, "the artist who more than any other transmitted to a later generation the tradition of linearism," Botticelli drew the conclusion that dramatic evocation was worthy of t h e art1st• 1 s en d eavor. 36

vasari writes that Botticelli was "a man of inquiring mind," but it is unlikely that Botticelli's turn to naturalism was original with him. For he was not alone in reexamining the nature and means of illusionism in art and its relation to dramatic evocation. These same topics are prominent in the writings of his contemporary, Leonardo da Vinci. Indeed, some of the most famous formulations of the theory that the highest aim of painting is the dramatic evocation of a narrative by naturalistic means are

35Hartt, p. 315; K. Clark, "Leon Battista Alberti on Painting," Proceedings of the British Academy. 30 (1944), 287-289, 299-301.

36 clark, p. 289 on Lippi. 31

Leonardo's. Mesnil has suggested that among Florentine

painters of the time, Botticelli was one of the few

Leonardo could have discussed such matters with on a

theoretical level, with any chance of being understood. 37

Conceivably discussions of this sort fostered the

young Botticelli's dramatic bent. But it is worth noting

that, as Kenneth Clark was one of the first to observe,

this aspect of Leonardo's art theories was first

articulated by the first modern art theorist, L. B.

Alberti, whose treatise On Painting, written in Latin in

1435 and translated soon after by the author into Italian,

is the source for many of Leonardo's most telling

formulations. 38 And since it has often been felt that

Botticelli knew Alberti's treatise at first hand, as

Leonardo must have, it may be assumed that Alberti's ideas

would have cropped up in theoretical discussions between

Leonardo and Botticelli if these did indeed transpirew 39

37vasari-Milanesi, III, 317 (Bull trans., p. 227); Mesnil, pp. 57-72.

38clark, pp. 294, 298-299.

39on Alberti's influence on Botticelli: A. Warburg, "Sandro Botticellis 'Geburt der Venus' und 'Fruehling'," in Gesammelte Schriften (Leipzig: Teubner, 1932), I, 11-13, 27-28; Lightbown, I, 16 writes: "We know from the internal evidence of his pictures that he • • • read and carefully digested Alberti's famous treatise on painting" and remarks upon the relations between Alberti's patron, Giovanni Rucellai, and Botticelli's father: Lightbown, I, 35, 52 and passim. 32

It is no coincidence that Alberti was a contemporary of Masaccio and Donatello: he clearly felt that their art was a vindication of the truth and validity of his theory of painting, and he refers to them in the introduction to his treatise. Moreover, Donatello was, like Brunelleschi, a close friend of Alberti; and much of the latter's doctrine is best seen as an articulation of and commentary on the practice of these pioneers of

Renaissance naturalism. As so often in the Renaissance, theory evolved in tandem with practice. (Alberti himself, o f course, was a 1 so a prac t 1c1ng. . arch. 1 t ect. ) 40

In connection with Botticelli's Ognissanti St.

Augustine it was observed that the painter has followed an

Albertian precept by conveying through gesture and facial expression the "movements of the mind," has indeed gone beyond this to suggest the transition from one state of mind to another. Alberti writes:

Some movements are of the mind, which the learned call affects, such as anger, grief, joy, fear, desire, and so on. Others are of the body •••• We painters • • • wish to express a~fects of the mind through movements of the limbs.

This, as suggested above, is what Botticelli sought to do

40 on Alberti's affiliations: Clark, pp. 286-289; A. Blunt, Artistic Theory in Italy, 1450-1600 (1940; rpt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1960), pp. 1-2. 41 Alberti, pp. 82-83, trans. slightly altered in the interest of literal accuracy. 33 in his early works. This endeavor subserved his broader goal of achieving dramatic evocation by naturalistic narration; and this illusionistic program too tallies with

Alberti's counsel. For "imitation of nature" plays as decisive a role in Alberti's theory as in Masaccio's 42 practice. In Alberti, too, moreover, both imitation and corporal expression are placed in the service of a still greater goal: the evocation of narrative istorie.

One should not be unaware of what composition is in painting. Composition is that procedure in painting whereby the parts are composed together in a painting. The greates~ work of the painter is a narrative [historia] • 3

There is a dimension to this striving for dramatic, narrative painting that has yet to be touched upon.

Leonardo writes:

The elements of painted scenes must move those who look at them to experience the same emotions as those represented in the story [istoria], that is to feel terror, fear, fright or pain, grief and lamentation or pleasure, happiness and laughter ••• If they fail to do.th!~ the skill of the painter will have been in va1n.

42Alberti, pp. 72-73. 43 Alberti, pp. 70-71, trans. revised to preserve the superlative amplissimum (Cf. pp. 72-73); the superlative recurs in both passages in the Italian version also: R. Lee, Ut Pictura Poesis: The Humanistic Theory of Painting (New York: Norton, 1976), p. 17, n. 69.

44 Leonard o d a V1nc1, . ' Treat1se ' on Pa1n' t'1ng, e d • A • P. MacMahon (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956), No. 267 (Cod. Urb. 61 r); cited in Gombrich's translation: Means and Ends, p. 13. 34

As Clark remarked long ago, Leonardo has been influenced in this conviction by a passage in Alberti's treatise:

A narrative [historia] will move spectators when the people painted in the picture show the movements of their minds most clearly. Nature makes it so we ••• mourn with those who mourn, laugh w!~h those who laugh, and grieve with the grief-stricken.

Fit namgue natura, "Nature makes it so • • II As

Barasch comments, Alberti offers "no extended discussion" 46 of the mechanism by which this response arises. But

Alberti's language shows him groping for a unifying-concept in the verb movere, "to move." Hence, perhaps, the use of

"movements of the mind" by analogy with "movements of the limbs" which register these mental and emotional affects.

And hence the response of the beholder, who is "moved" by these means (spectantium movebit historia). 47

We have the word the Quattrocento lacked:

45Alberti, pp. 80-81, trans. considerably revised for accuracy; Clark, p. 299, writes that Leonardo's passage "slightly" rearranges and translates Alberti's Italian version "into a more modern Italian." Of course, a serious attempt to reconstruct the relationship of Leonardo and Botticelli would require careful attention to the problem of dating the former's relevant notes.

46M. Barasch, "Der Ausdruck in der Kunsttheorie der Renaissance," Zeitschrift fuer Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft. 12 (1967), 38.

47Alberti, pp. 80-81 as above; Grayson's translation does not always preserve such verbal correspondences. Thus he has "feelings" where Alberti has animi motum in this passage. 35

48 empathy. In the absence of any psychological understanding of the empathetic response, Alberti may have sought an explanation elsewhere.

In many respects Alberti anticipates not merely

Leonardo's thought .but the entire "humanistic theory of painting" which, from the sixteenth century on, found the proper role of of painting in a conscious emulation of ancient poetic practice as this was seen in the

Renaissance. The Horation simile Ut pictura poesis, "as is painting so is poetry," provided a standard for academic . ' 49 pract1ce. Indeed the authority of Horace's Ars

Poetica, together with Aristotle's Poetics, was largely responsible for this development. 50

While Alberti did not know the Poetics, he knew from Pliny and other Roman writers that the artists of antiquity had excelled in the type of art he extolled. 51

Indeed, most of the examples Alberti offers in his treatise are culled from antiquity. 52

48 Barasch, p. 38; Gombrich, Means and Ends, p. 13. 49 50 R. Lee, passim. R. Lee, p. 5.

51R. Lee, p. 7; Pliny: Plinius Secundus, The Elder Pliny's Chapters on the History of Art, trans. by K. Rex-Blake with commentary by E. Strong (1896; rpt. Chicago: Argonaut, 1968).

52clark, p. 294: "all the subjects he describes are from classical literature"; Blunt, p. 12. 36

It is striking and instructive that a second

Horatian notion, equally fundamental to the development of academic theory, finds no place in Alberti. It was to become academic dogma that for the artist to evoke an empathetic response in the beholder, he himself must first 53 experience the emotions and passions he will portray.

As suggested above, Alberti antedates all concern with the psychology of the artist. In seeking to circumscribe the empathetic response he so prized, he seems to have found himself confronted with the "riddle of the 54 artist" and the whole mystery of image-making. For all its workshop practicality, scholarly sobriety and classical trappings, Alberti's image of the artist is anything but that of a craftsman whose achievement is fathomable in mechanistic terms. Far from being a mundane technician, the Albertian artist has a quasi-mythic grandeur bespeaking his roots in religious and mythical notions. Thus Alberti cites "the most ancient writer" Hermes Trismegistus as attesting that "sculpture and painting originated with

53"If you wish me to weep, you must first grieve yourself" (Si vis ~ flere, dolendam est primum ipsi tibi)(author's trans.); R. Lee, p. 24; Barasch, p. 40 on the absence of this notion in Alberti. 54 The "riddle of the artist": E. Kris and o. Kurz, Legend, Myth and Magic in the Image of the Artist (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979), pp. 1-7; this is a translation of their classic study of the mythological roots of stereotypes in biographies of artists. 37 religion"; and this is more than an attempt to provide a venerable ancestry for these endeavors. The "Hermetic" treatise Alberti quotes is the Asclepius, purportedly an ancient Egyptian work on image-magic and theurgy. 55

One need not suppose that the Albertian artist is a magician to sense that, for Alberti, the "magic" of image- making, the artist's ability to imitate nature and evoke an empathetic response in the beholder, was a mystery bordering on the religious dimension. Thus Alberti opens

Book Two of his treatise by avowing that "painting possesses a truly divine power" and that painters know themselves to be "almost like a god." 56

This is not to say that Alberti's ideas on the nature of the artist are offered ad hoc, for lack of any other explanation of the artist's power. For there is evidence that for Alberti, the very "invention" of a narrative subject is testimony to the artist's stature:

"Invention is such that even by itself and without 57 pictorial representation it can delight" or move.

Thus the evidence suggests strongly that the early

Botticelli drew from the well of Albertian art theory

55Alberti, pp. 62-63; F. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (1964; rpt. New York: Vintage, 1969), pp. 20-43 on the Asclepius.

56Alberti, pp. 60-62, trans. revised: Grayson turns deo into "the Creator" and his "feel" is a bit vaguer than Alberti's intelligant, while still correct.

57Alberti, pp. 94-95. 38

either directly or indirectly through Leonardo. That

Botticelli belongs and was seen by contemporaries in an

Albertian context is further suggested by the fact that,

sometime prior to 1480, the humanist Ugolino Verino referred to him in a Virgilian epic as the "successor of

Apelles," the ancient Greek painter whom Alberti praises in his treatise on painting for his illusionistic

trJ.ump. h s. 58

SBE. H. Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni: A Florentine Cassone Workshop Seen through the Eyes of a Humanist Poet," in Norm and Form, pp. 23-25, with selections from Verino, pp. 26-28. Chapter 2

TWO FACES OF ROME

Sistine Rome: from Politics to Patronage

Vasari writes:

His [Del Lama] Adoration of the Magi made Botticelli so famous, both in Florence and elsewhere, that Pope Sixtus IV, having finished the building for the chapel of his palace at Rome and wanting to have it paintS~' decided that he should be put in charge of the work.

There is good reason to look skeptically at this sentence. Ho~1 could Vasari know the pope's reasons for calling Botticelli to Rome? And why would a pope who had no special fondness for the Medici lend an ear to praise of a work lauded as much for its portraits of three generations of Medici rule as for its skillful execution?

For vasari himself has as much to say on the former score as on the latter. Finally, there is reason to think that

59vasari-Milanesi, III, 316-317 (Bull trans. p. 227).

39 40

Perugino, not Botticelli, was "put in charge of the

work." 60

vasari relates that Botticelli's St. Augustine "won

him credit and reputation," and it is reasonable to assume

that their mutual success in the important Ognissanti

commission was indeed a factor in the selection of

Botticelli and Ghirlandaio for the much more prestigious 61 Roman assignment. For in late 1481, a year after the work in the Ognissanti, the two young Florentine painters were summoned to Rome along with two other painters, Pietro

Perugino and Cosimo Rosselli, and their assistants, to execute the interior decoration of the new capella magna of the Vatican. This ceremonial chapel of Sixtus IV (r.

1471-84) had been some years under construction, and it is eloquent testimony of their stature at this juncture in their careers that Botticelli and Ghirlandaio were among those selected by the pope to decorate the Sistine Chapel.

Rome in the Quattrocento was anything but a hothouse of artistic talent, so that the pope's use of

Umbrian and Tuscan talent is not surprising. Moreover,

Perugino and Ghirlandaio had been employed by the pope

60L. Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel Before Michelangelo (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965), pp. 30-31.

61vasari-Milanesi, III, 311-312 (Bull trans. p. 225) • 41

previously and so were to some extent proven talents. 62

But Sixtus was too circumspect a politician and patron to

base such a choice solely on artistic merit, and it may be

worthwhile to seek additional reasons for his selection.

Aside from the very real possibility that the papal

overseer in the decoration of the chapel, Giovanni dei

Dolci, a Florentine, was not without local pride and the

willingness to lend it voice, there are political

considerations to be taken into account. For Sixtus had

been implicated in a recent attempt to overthrow Medici

rule in Florence, the Pazzi Conspiracy of 1478. The revolt

failed but took a toll in blood: Lorenzo de' Medici was

wounded and his brother Giuliano murdered. Reprisals

continued through 1480. When one considers that Botticelli

was allotted the task of immortalizing the conspirators in

their infamy, it seems entirely conceivable that the

prominence of Florentine artists, Botticelli among them, in

the Sistine commission betokens more than papal awareness 63 o f t h e mer1ts. o f F 1 orent1ne . era f tsmans h'1p.

However that may be, such speculations seem

perfectly warranted in view of what is known of Sixtus IV.

·For the traditional image of Sixtus as a generous and

62Ghirlandaio: above, at n. 10; Perugino: Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 23.

63H. Acton, The Pazzi Conspiracy: The Plot Against the Medici (London: Thames and Hudson, 1974), is the most recent study of the plot. 42 discerning Maecenas and connoisseur has lost much of its credibility. Revisionist historians are still at their labors and it is too early for a balanced judgement on

Sixtus as a patron of the arts. But this much seems clear: the primary fact about Francesco della Rovere is that from

1471 he was Pope Sixtus IV. From that the rest 64 follows. Scholars have long remarked the apparent discrepancy between the eminent and conciliatory Franciscan theologian and prelate and the pope he would become: unbending and uncompromising, determined and decisive, single-minded and occasionally savage. Since the psychohistorians have yet to discover Sixtus, this preliminary judgement may stand: when the Franciscan became pope, the role may not have become the man, but the man 65 became the role.

It is singularly significant that Sixtus became pope when he did. For the last quarter of the fifteenth century saw the first Spring of the city of Rome after a centuries-long Winter. Immensely dilapidated, depopulated and, in addition, first deprived of the presence of the papacy and its business, then devastated by the crisis of the Great Schism, Rome began to revive slowly with the

64contrast E. Muentz, "Un Mycene italien au xve siecle," Revue des Deux Mondes. Ser. 9; 48 (1881}, 154-192, and E. Lee, Sixtus IV and Men of Letters (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1978}, pp. 41-43 and passim.

65 E. Lee, pp. 40-45. 43 pontificate of Martin V (1417-31). The work of political and religious consolidation which he initiated, and which continued under his successors despite economic crisis, plague and endemic factional strife, was most evident in the physical refurbishment that Rome progressively underwent. For even during the Jubilee of 1450 Rome was still little more than a picturesque pasturage for sheep and a ruinous refuge for vagabonds and brigands. Pilgrims' itineraries focused prudently upon the sacred sites on the outskirts of the city. 66

If the restoration of political and ecclesiastical authority required the renovation of the visage of modern

Rome, it was no less dependent upon the popes' status as heirs to the imperial grandeur of ancient Rome. In the face of the conciliar threat to their authority, the popes had to assure their status as more than merely bishops of the city of Rome. The reaffirmation of the supremacy of the Roman See was also and necessarily a reaffirmation of the traditional ties that bound Imperial Rome and its institutions with Christian Rome and papal prerogatives.

And the visible relics of ancient Rome were palpable reminders, for all to see, of these abiding ties. 67

66M. Andrieux, Rome (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1968), pp. 189-195.

67on the Church at this time: L. Pastor, The History of the Popes from the Close of the Middle-xges, IV (4th ed., St. Louis: Herder, 1923); on Sistine Rome: E. Rodocanachi, Histoire de Rome: une cour princiere au 44

Unfortunately the urban transformation of the city of Rome was not always compatible with a regard for her

antiquities. Conversely, preservation of the latter for propaganda purposes could militate against the rebirth of urban Rome. The phoenix of Renaissance Rome rose from the

ashes of antiquity and the chaotic "organization" of Roman buildings and monuments hampered the popes' efforts at

efficient remodeling at every turn. 68

This tension between tradition and innovation lay

at the heart of the Roman Renaissance. It helps to explain

the evident willingness of the papacy, alive to the historical and political value of the remains of antique

Rome, yet to suffer and indeed on occasion to sanction their ongoing decay. 69

Not all Quattrocento popes, of course, were subject to this conflict of interests. Some had less regard for antiquity than others, and for these the imperatives of modernity could stand unchallenged. But when antiquarianism was more than a political strategy, when the spark of humanism kindled a genuine enthusiasm for

vatican pendant la renaissance (Paris: Hachette, 1925), pp. 7-77.

68E. Lee, pp. 123-150.

69R. Weiss, The Renaissance Discovery of Classical Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), p. 98. 45

antiquity, this conflict could take a severe form, giving

rise to behavior and policies not readily reducible to an

unambiguous political program.

On the face of it, Sixtus IV would seem to belong

emphatically and prominently to the latter camp. Thus on

the one hand, he made perhaps the most imposing, important

and enduring contribution to the Quattrocento renewal of

urban Rome and, in this sign, sanctioned countless

demolitions of antique monuments still in situ at that

time. 70 On the other hand, one of his first official

acts as pope was his celebrated "donation" to the "people

of Rome" of a group of famous antique bronzes, thenceforth

housed on the Capitol and constituting the nucleus of the

later Capitoline collections. The inscription

commemorating this gift hails the bronzes as tokens of

"ancient excellence and virtue" (priscae excellentiae virtutisgue) and suggests a reverence for the remnants of

ancient Rome beyond the call of propagandistic duty and

scarcely compatible with the destructions Sixtus . d 71 sanct~one •

This artfully contrived "donation" has dominated

70weiss, p. 100.

71weiss, p. 191; E. Lee, pp. 148-150; W. Heckscher, Sixtus IIII aeneas insignes statuas romano populo restituendas censuit (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1936), passim; F. Saxl, "The Capitol During the Renaissance," in Lectures (London: The Warburg Institute, 1957), I, 200-214. 46 discussion of Sixtus' attitude toward antiquity. Thus he has enjoyed inordinately "good press" as a Renaissance Pope in the Burckhardtian tradition: enamored of classical antiquity and, if more than nominally religious, yet appropriately appreciative of paganism.

As suggested above, this estimate fails to square with other facets of Sixtus' pontificate. Not only was he willing to surgically alter the face of Rorna antigua in the interests of modernity, sacrificing many of her venerable features in the process, but he did not hesitate to disburse Paul II's notable collection of antiquities for political favors or cash. 72

It becomes increasingly evident that the tension

Sixtus experienced in this realm was not between the imperatives of modernity and a personal and political sense of the importance and value of antiquity. Rather, Sixtus

IV offers perhaps the most striking Quattrocento case of a pope enlisting the multifaceted culture of his age and milieu and bending its often conflicting tendencies to the ends of the papacy. He was a paradigm of papal pragmatism. When the preservation or display of antiquities would serve the strategy of a militant and tactically-minded papacy, as in the formation of a

72E. Lee, p. 148; on the collections: E. Muentz, "Inventaire des bronzes antiques de la collection du Pape Paul II 1457-71," Revue archeologigue. N.S., 36 (1878) 87-92, "Inventaire des carnees antiques de la collection du Pape Paul II 1457-71," Revue archeologigue. N.S., 36 (1878) 155-171, 203-207. 47

collection of famous antiquities on the Capitol, Sixtus would play the defensor antiquitatis. But antiquities

whose preservation promised no practical gain were simply

of no value to him. 73

This preeminently utilitarian attitude

characterized Sixtus' relation to the world of arts and

letters as well. Unlike his great predecessors on the throne of St. Peter, Nicholas V and Pius II, Sixtus did not gather to his administration humanist scholars of the stamp of a Poggio Bracciolini or an Alberti, past ornaments of the Curia, nor quite generally men who ~~ould contribute to the proud and imposing record of Quattrocento scholarship.

Of course, there were apostolic secretaries and other papal

functionaries during this period who did contribute as productive men of letters; but their productivity was for the most part channelled into literary and historical studies. Purely philological scholarship languished as did cr1t1ca. . 1 commentary on contemporary events. 74

The conclusion seems warranted that in an era of papal political and ideological consolidation, which was also a time of warfare and urban s~rife, humanist pursuits were most easily and safely carried out in private.

Conversely, scholars closer to the center of power often

73 weiss, pp. 191-192; E. Lee, p. 150.

74 E. Lee, pp. 47-86. 48 took refuge in the inner exile of personal culture.

Refuge, but also solace: for the humanist activities of scholars under the employ and the eye of the papacy could foster the impression that they were not standing on the scholarly shoulders of their predecessors. 75 Sixtus, meanwhile, could applaud and endorse their efforts while trusting them to abstain from untimely criticism.

In his patronage of the arts, too, Sixtus' pragmatism is apparent. By comparison with other great patrons of the age, Sixtus, despite the stature of some of the artists he employed and the importance of such works as the Sistine Chapel, emerges as opportunistic in practice and a parvenu in his tastes. Vasari's scornful anecdote about the pope's estimate of the respective merits of the painters at work in the chapel has often been cited. vasari relates, adding that "if it is not true, it is well concocted," how Sixtus demonstrated his ignorance of things artistic by giving the candle to the mediocre efforts of

Rosselli in preference to the others. 76 Rosselli, in order to conceal his inferiority, covered his work with blue and gold, "for those colors, as Cosimo had imagined, so dazzled the eyes of the Pope, who did not understand

75 c. Mitchell, "Archeology and Romance in Renaissance Italy," Italian Renaissance Studies: A Tribute to c. M. Ady, ed. E. Jacob (London: Faber and Faber, 1960), pp. 455-483, dicusses a similar development in Northern Italy.

76E. Lee, pp. 87, 193-204. 49 much about such things, although he greatly delighted in them, that he decided that" Rosselli had "acquitted himself in the work better than all the others." 77

This same lack of aesthetic discernment is evident in the decoration Sixtus provided for the new Vatican

Library in the mid-1470s. Gold was applied lavishly throughout, from the ninety-five gilt nails studding the entrance door to the bindings of many of the books. 78 In the sala latina, it will be recalled, the most heavily used and most striking of the reading rooms, the brothers

Ghirlandaio had been employed, and the pope was evidently content when Domenico left the greater part of the work to his fraternal helper Davide. Similarly, the two rooms not open to the public, the biblioteca secreta and the biblioteca pontifica, were painted by assistants of Melozzo da Forli and Antonizzo Romano. 79

To be sure, the great Melozzo himself was also employed by the pope: he painted the famous fresco (later transferred to canvas) of Sixtus with four of his Cardinal nephews and his librarian and biographer, Platina, for the sala latina. But Sixtus' use of the long underestimated

Melozzo has to be seen in its context. He was called upon when it was a matter of portraying the pope, his family and

77vasari-Milanesi, III, 188-189~ citing trans. in Horne, p. 103. E. Lee, p. 45, calls Sixtus "a parvenu in cultural matters."

78 E. Lee, p. 119. 79 E. Lee, p. 119. 50

intimates in a public place and on a grand scale, where the monumental style of the artist would be most effective.

When Sixtus commissioned thirty frescoes for the pilgrim hostel of Santo Spirito, detailing the life and illustrious

career of the pope, it was Melozzo's portrait which served as a model for the scene depicting the opening of the

Vat1.can. Ll.'b rary. 80

In vievl of this pervasive pragmatism, it is worth reexamining Sixtus' famous Capitoline "donation." It should be noted, first, that while by this gesture the pope endorsed the letter of the Renaissance, he did not thereby subscribe to its spirit. Moreover, Sixtus' donation occurred at the very outset of his reign and did not inaugurate a policy of similar gestures. And as Heckscher has argued, this action signalled the appropriation by the papacy of not only the "ancient excellence and virtue" of 81 ancient Rome, but also the imperial idea and ideology.

The imagery of empire strongly colored the donation. Thus, of the seven or so bronzes removed to the

Capitol, one, the Etruscan She-Wolf, symbol of the origins of Rome, had marked the site of executions from the tenth 82 century and was a striking emblem of papal authority.

80Melozzo's portrait ill. in Hartt, Fig. 414; the s. Spirito fresco ill. in E. Lee, Fig. 4a. 81Heckscher, passim; E. Lee, pp. 149-150; Weiss, p. 191.

82Heckscher, p. 46. 51

Similarly, the colossal head and hand grasping a sphere,

fragments of the gigantic effigy of the Emperor Constantius

II, were interpreted not only as a prefiguration of the sol

iustitiae, but also in the fifteenth century as the idolic 83 image of Apollo. In short, even this initial display

of papal reverence for antiquity and generosity takes on new meanings when seen in the perspective of the pope's

overriding ambitions. The same is true of the decoration of the Sistine Chapel, which brought Botticelli and

Ghirlandaio to Rome in 1481.

The Sistine Chapel is a simple rectangular structure outstanding architecturally only for its 84 size. In conformity with Roman traditions of civic architecture, its exterior is severe and unadorned, recalling a fortified palace. 85 The times, after all, called for no less. Similarly, the interior, based on an early medieval type called volta lunettata (which arises from the intersection of groin vaults of varying sizes),

83Heckscher, p. 46.

84on the chapel: R. Salvini, E. Camesasca and c. Ragghianti, The Sistine Chapel (New York: Abrams, 1971) is the most comprehensive study; Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, R. Salvini, "The Sistine Chapel: Ideology and Architecture," Art History. 3, No. 2 (June, 1980), 145-157 are comprehensive in scope and stress the chapel program; E. Steinmann's pioneering monograph, Die Sixtinische Kapelle, I (Munich, 1901) was not accessible, but his interpretation is summarized in his Botticelli (Bielefeld: Delhagen and Klasing, 1901), pp. 40-61. 85 salvini, p. 153. 52

may reflect the pope's intention of approximating the 86 1nsu. 1 ar1 . t y o f a g1gant1c . . s h r1ne. . But f rom t h e f.1rst

the emphasis fell upon the painted decoration of this

interior space. The visual scheme underlying this

decoration can be briefly summarized.

The altar wall was devoted to two frescoes and an

altar panel by Perugino (all destroyed by Michelangelo).

The Assumption of the Virgin (the chapel was dedicated to

the Assunta) was flanked by the Finding of Moses and the

Nativity of Christ. The lateral walls were divided into

three registers separated by cornices. The lower register

was to be a simulated marble decoration. The clerestory

was provided with a series of papal portraits spanning the

period from the first pope, St. Peter, to the last prior to

the Constantinian Edict of Toleration, Marcellus II. The

middle register of each wall embraced six discrete frescoes

running backward from the altar wall.

The North wall was devoted to events from the life

of Moses, the South to events from the life of Christ.

Each series picked up from the marginal frescoes on the altar wall and proceeded in roughly chronological order toward the entrance wall. Since each of the individual frescoes was to contain up to eight distinct episodes

86salvini, pp. 154-155. 53 I ' against a single background, there was ample facility for complexity of theme and narrative (Fig. 13).

The idea of such a visual concordance of the Old and New Testaments was in itself nothing new. The chapel as a whole, with its unadorned exterior masking a resplendent interior decoration, forcibly recalls Early

Christian conventions of church building. And this type of concordance hearkens back to such Early Christian mosaic cycles as that ins. M. Maggiore. 87 Significantly,

Sixtus' prior namesake, the great Sixtus III (r. 432-40), was responsible for the completion of s. M. Maggiore, roughly a millennium before Sixtus IV took the throne.

This seems an avenue worth pursuing in any attempt to comprehend the initial conception of the Sistine

Chapel. Not only does s. M. Maggiore contain the first large scale biblical cycle extant in Rome, 88 which in itself suggests that Sixtus IV may have seen himself as picking up where his namesake left off a thousand years before; but more important still, the two popes found themselves in quite similar situations and seem to have seen their roles in analogous terms.

Rome was not to die. The emperor had been unable to safeguard the city. Its safety now rested with its Christian heroes, Peter and Paul, with its bishops, the successors to St. Peter. They were the only effective

87Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, pp. 43, 94-103.

SSR. Krautheimer, Rome: Profile of a City, 312- 1308 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), p. 49. 54

power left. Rome was the papacy and the papacy was Rome. • • • The identification of the papacy with St. Peter and of the Church with Rome and her classical tradition ••• became ~~sic elements of papal policy under ••• Sixtus III.

These words could be applied with equal justice to Sixtus

IV and it seems entirely fitting that the age of Sixtus III has been called a "fifth century renaissance." 90 And if the program of S. M. Maggiore strikes some as a manifesto, the same impression is made by the initial Sistine Chapel 91 program.

Prior to the recent discovery of the inscriptions above each of the chapel frescoes, it could be reasonably doubted whether a strictly typological program underlay the 92 fresco cycle. Their discovery bears out Steinmann's contention that such a scheQe did in fact exist. His specific suggestions in this regard do not stand up to scrutiny, and indeed it is quite improbable that even a pope with Sixtus' pretensions would include in such a major ecclesiastical cycle of frescoes the sort of self-

89 Kraut h e1mer, . p. 46 •

90R. Krautheimer, "The Architecture of Sixtus III: A Fifth-Century Renascence?" De Artibus opuscula XL: Essays in Honor of Erwin Panofsky, ed. M. Meiss (New York: New York University Press, 1961), pp. 291-302.

91 Kraut h e1mer, . Rome, p. 49 • 92 Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, passim, doubts it. The inscriptions or tituli of the frescoes were first published by D. Redig de Campos, "I 'tituli' degli affreschi del Quattrocento nella Capella Sistina," Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia Romana de Archeologia. 42 (1969-70), 229-314; they are reprinted in Lightbown, II, 45. 55

aggrandizing references to events of his own pontificate

Steinmann fancied he had discovered. The parallel to

Sixtus III brings one closer to the mind and intentions of

Sixtus IVa 93

Such recent scholars as Ettlinger and Salvini have

argued most persuasively that what was at stake in the

Sistine frescoes was a theological justification of the

principle of papal primacy, the primatus papae. The visual

evidence for this thesis is impressive, but the newly 94 discovered inscriptions clinch the issue. A detailed

demonstration of this would require an intensive study of

the fresco cycle and lead too far afield. This discussion

must be confined to the principal features of the chapel

decoration.

The Moses cycle proceeds backwards along the left wall from the Finding of Moses. The Circumcision of Moses'

Son bears an inscription identifying it as the "observation

of the old regeneration by Moses." Its companion piece on

the opposite wall depicts the Baptism of Christ, signifying

(again according to the inscription) the "institution of

the new regeneration" through the sacrament of baptism.

93It is also noteworthy that Moses, "who was not one of the most popular figures in late medieval or Renaissance imagery" (Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 7), was the hero of the s. M. Maggiore mosaics. Ettlinger, p. 44, notes this and demonstrates the influence of these mosaics on the chapel decoration, but fails to notice the parallels between the two popes.

94salvini, pp. 146-147. 56

The balance of the frescoes contrast the Old and the New Dispensations in similar fashion. Significantly, there is no contrast of the era under the Law and the era of Grace. Rather there is a contrast of the "law of the gospel" (evangelicae lex) and the "written law" (scripta lex). This phraseology recurs in each of the subsequent frescoes and thus these inscriptions bear out the thesis that what is stressed is the role of Moses and of Christ as . 95 1 aw-gJ.vers.

The next pair of frescoes on the side walls depict the trials and tribulations of Moses and Christ (the Latin ternptatio embracing both meanings). The center of each fresco is devoted to a scene stressing the priestly, sacerdotal aspect of the protagonist's role. 96 Moses is shown protecting the daughters of Jethro the Midianite and providing water for their flock, while the opposite fresco shows the sacrifice of the leper prior to his healing at

Christ's hands. These two frescoes underscore the role of

Christ and Moses as priests (Figs. 14, 15).

Next follows the Crossing of the Red Sea, glossed as the Israelites' congregation prior to their reception of the Law on Sinai. Facing this is the Calling of the

Apostles or the "congregation of the people to receive the law of the gospel" (Fig. 16).

95salvini, p. 147. 96s a 1 VJ.nJ.,.. p. 14 6. 57

The fourth pair of frescoes contrasts the

Law-Giving on Sinai with the Sermon on the Mount. Once more the heroes are shown as law-givers. It is noteworthy that the former fresco includes a subsidiary scene of

Moses' wrath and the adoration of the golden calf, while the Sermon is accompanied by a scene of the cleansing of the leper. This strongly suggests that the correlation of the two series should not be pushed too far. Typology is typically tendentious and this contrast of the Israelites obduracy with the efficacy of Christ's mission underscores the pervasive contrast of the old and the new law-givers 97 and their respective "laws."

The same point is made even more forcibly in the succeeding frescoes. The Punishment of the Rebellion against Aaron is coupled with the Delivery of the Keys to

St. Peter (Figs. 17, 18). Salvini expressed surprise that the inscriptions compare the "disruption" (conturbatio) of the heroes' efforts. For the attempted stoning of Christ to which this refers is relegated to the background, while the Israelite rebellion is placed in a position of 98 prominence. But it is again a matter of contrasting the two "Israels." Christ's success is always assured and asserted, whatever the situation.

97Hence the general tendency to call Moses a typus Christi is somewhat misleading: e.g., Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, passim.

gas a 1 v1.n1., . . p. 14 7. 58

These two frescoes offer the most emphatic illustration of the third facet of the role of Moses and 99 Christ, that of king and ruler. Moses is shown quelling rebellion, Christ peacefully instituting and affirming the principle of succession on which, of course, the papacy rests. The inscription on the arch in the left-hand fresco reads:

NEMO SIB! ASSUMMAT HONOREM NISI VOCATUS ADEO TANQUM~ ARON

(Let no man assume the honor who is not called by God, as was Aaron.) (Author's translation.)

Finally, the lateral walls terminate with the Last

Acts of Moses facing the Last Supper, or the "replication"

(replicatio) of the written Law and the law of Grace. The entrance wall originally included two frescoes: a (lost) scene of St. Michael Fighting for the Soul of Moses and

Ghirlandaio's heavily overpainted Resurrection of 100 Christ. In these themes it is again apparent that

Moses was viewed in a less favorable light than was Christ, who of course needs no saving.

The emphasis on the threefold role of Moses and

Christ as law-givers, priests and kings is doubtless correctly taken as primary evidence for Sixtus' claims for

99salvini, p. 146; Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, pp. 85, 104-119 on the three aspects of the heroes' roles: law-giver, priest, ruler.

10°F. Stastny, "A Note on Two Frescoes in the Sistine chapel," The Burlington Magazine. 121, No. 921 (December, 1979), 777-783. 59

. 101 papa 1 pr1.macy. The series of papal portraits in the clerestory took up this line of argument, as it were, where

Perugino's Delivery of the Keys left off. The popes of the persecution from Peter to Marcellus II are depicted. These were clearly meant to span an era like the two cycles in the middle register; and in so doing they point to the decisive event which terminated this "era of persecution": the conversion of Constantine. 102

It is noteworthy in this context that Perugino's

Delivery of the Keys is set against a background dominated by tandem triumphal arches modelled on the two faces of the

Arch of Constantine. The corresponding fresco on the opposite wall, the Punishment of the Rebellion against

Aaron, is even more obviously dominated by Botticelli's remarkably faithful copy of the same monument. In the

Sistine Chapel decoration there is embodied a typological program which could with justification be called theocratic 103 or Constantinian.

As suggested above, this program, while an extensive apology for papal pretensions, nowhere descends to the level of personal self-aggrandizement. On the contrary, the original plan called for a star-studded

101 Ett 1.l.nger, T h e s.l.Stl.ne . Ch ape 1 , pp. 104 -119 , seconded by Salvini, p. 146.

1025 a 1 Vl.nl., . . p. 148. 103 salvini, p. 148 on the pivotal nature of these scenes. 60 heavenly vault where Michelangelo's ceiling frescoes now 104 reside. The mundane and the heavenly realms were to be narratively wedded by the terminal frescoes of the cycle, the Resurrection, the scene of St. Michael and, on the altar wall, the Assumption of the Virgin.

This celestial standpoint seems to have been grasped by Perugino at least among the painters working in the chapel. His pivotal fresco of the Delivery of the Keys is no historical narrative, but a timeless visual equivalent of Jesus' words: "I give unto you the keys to 105 t h e K1ng' d om o f Heaven. " It 1s' equa 11 y w1t' h out ascertainable location in space: the cityscape it depicts suggests a spherical space, no terrestrial landscape but rather a cosmic setting expressive of a universal truth~ 106 Despite the cosmic framework within which the

Sistine program was spelled out, the thoroughness and precision with which it reflects the pope's attitudes is imposing. Seemingly every aspect of the chapel decoration is directed to a common overriding end. There is no reason to except the classical motifs in the chapel frescoes from

104J. Wilde, The Decoration of the Sistine Chapel (London: Oxford University Press, n.d. [1958?]), pp. 70-71; Salvini, p. 154. 105 Mat. 16:19.

106salvini, p. 152. 61 this rule. A few brief observations in this connection may conclude this discussion.

As noted, the Arch of Constantine is more or less accurately reproduced in two of the pivotal frescoes in the cycle. The Constantinian theme which these motifs embody has been shown above to be essential to the typology defining the chapel decoration. This classical monument is not the only one to occur in the chapel; but only one more need be noticed at this point (see also Appendix A). At least three times in the cycle, visual reference is made to the most famous of the bronzes which Sixtus donated to the people of Rome in 1471: the spinario or Thorn-Puller (Fig. 107 19). Assuming that here as always the patron initiated the inclusion of the motif, the question remains whether his motive was solely a desire to provide visual reminders of his personal generosity and the papacy's 1 8 c 1 ass1ca. 1 pe d 1gree.. O Th ere seems t o b e no s1mp . 1 e solution to this question. But in two instances, at least,

107R. Olson, "Botticelli's Horsetamer: A Quotation from Antiquity which Reaffirms a Roman date for the Washington Adoration," Studies in the History of Art. 8 (1978), 7-22; on the spinario, most recently, F. Haskell and N. Penny, Taste and the Antique: The Lure of Classical Sculpture 1500-1900 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981), pp. 308-310 and 'H. Heckscher, "Dornauszieher," Reallexikon zur deutschen Kunstgeschichte IV (1937ff; rpt. Munich: Beck 1968-).

108oddly, Olson, p. 18, seems to suppose that the painters initiated the inclusion of the motif. This seems unlikely considering the patron and context. 62

the motif plays an iconographic role in the scene in which

it occurs.

Long ago Wickhoff argued that the muscular youth in

the Last Acts of Moses (Fig. 20) represented "the stranger"

in the camp of the Israelites. 109 That this figure is

depicted in the pose of the spinario and in classical

seminudity, and that it may also reflect the Apollo

Belvedere, makes it doubly appropriate for this "heathen"

role.

A different explanation is in order in the case of

the allusion to the spinario in Botticelli's figure of

Moses removing his shoes before the presence of the Lord in

the burning bush (Fig. 14, upper left). May it not be that

the pagan allusion was felt to be appropriate to I-1oses

prior to his initial encounter with God, especially in view

of his having been given to acts of passion and violence,

such as the slaying of the Egyptian taskmaster, depicted in

the same fresco? It was shown above that the Sistine

program was by no means partial to Moses, so that this 110 would not introduce a jarring note into the cycle.

109F. Wickhoff, "Der Apollo von Belvedere als Fremdling bei den Israeliten," in Schriften, ed. M. Dvorak (Berlin: Meyer and Jessenk 1913), pp. 406-414. Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 72, accepts this "ingenious suggestion" and gives further evidence for it. As he says, Hickhoff may be right about the figure recalling the Apollo Belvedere, which was later in the possession of Sixtus' nephew, Julius II; and the monument seems to have been known in 1481: below, at n. 151.

110cf. below, at n. 174. 63

Be that as it may, enough has been said to indicate

that Pope Sixtus IV was as domineering and calculating in

his relationship to the arts as in the political arena.

The environment he created in the Vatican was not such as would foster individualism, creative experimentation and an

openness to new experiences on the part of the artists he

employed. The Rome of Sixtus IV was no open society. But

there was another side to Sistine Rome, the environment

provided by the artists, humanists and patrons of arts and

letters who, despite the inhibiting influence of the papacy, managed to keep the Roman renaissance alive. This

"second face" of Sistine Rome was to be of crucial

importance in the careers of Botticelli and Ghirlandaio.

The Second Face of Rome: Artists as Antiquaries.

In the politically and ideologically conservative climate fostered by Sixtus IV, genuine cultivation of the arts, of letters and of antiquarianism went underground.

The private sphere came to assume critical importance as the matrix within which these pursuits still flourished.

The cultural primacy of the private sector in

Sistine Rome is particularly evident in the literary sphere. "Academies" like that centered around the figure of Pomponio Leto, really amorphous sodalities of like-minded poets, scholars and philosophers, were a salient feature of the period. Equally characteristic was 64 the rise of the private palazzo and the suburban villa to prominence as the scholar's retreat and refuge of the

Muses. In these circles, more or less remote from the sordid realities of urban social and political life, there survived the humanist traditions languishing in the . 111 Cur1.a. And even as the pursuit of classical scholarship and letters withdrew into the private realm, so did the kindred enthusiasm for the visible remains of antiquity. While the pope was disbursing the collections of his predecessors, there began to emerge on the Roman scene private collections of antiquities such as the 112 "antique gardens" so typical of the sixteenth century.

Symbolic of these developments is the fact that the greatest and ultimately most influential archeological find of the period was due not to papal initiative but to the infectious enthusiasm of the resident artistic community of

Sistine Rome. While work was progressing in the Sistine

Chapel, there came to light the subterranean "grottoes" of the Golden House of Nero, with their complex polychromatic

111For Le t o 1 s Accad em1.a ' Pompon1.ana' an d 1.ts ' successors, P. Bober, "The Coryciana and the Nymph Corycia," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 40 (1977), 223-239; D. Coffin, The Villa in the Life of Renaissance Rome (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979) is a full study of the subject. 112c. Huelsen, "Roemische Antikengaerten des XVI. Jahrhunderts," Abhandlungen der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften. Phil.-Hist. Kl. 4 (1917), 1-135. 65 decorative ensembles executed in stucco and paint. 113

While it is likely that random examples of antique wall-painting had been unearthed still earlier in Italy, and influenced such artists as Pietro Cavallini, it was only with the revelation of this complete monumental decorative cycle that this branch of classical art was "put 114 on the map."

The first evidence of this discovery hails from 115 around 1480. It comes in the form of drawings in a sketchbook in the Escorial Library in Madrid, a volume produced in the Ghirlandaio workshop, probably in the

1490s, and based in large part on drawings made by the 116 master during his Sistine sojourn of 1481-82. The discovery of the Golden House was an achievement of the foreign painters carrying out the Sistine Chapel commission

113N. Dacos, La Decouverte de la Domus Aurea et la formation des grotesques a la renaissance (Studies of the Warburg Institute 31)(London: The Warburg Institute, 1969), superseding A. Schmarsow, "Der Eintritt der Grottesken in die Dekoration der Italienischen Renaissance," Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen. 2 (1881), 131-144. A. von Salis, Antike und Renaissance (Erlenbach: Rentsch, 1947), pp. 35-56, still repays reading. 114Dacos, p. 4~ J. White, The Birth and Rebirth of Pictorial Space (2d ed.~ Boston: Boston Book and Art Shop, 1967), pp. 47-52. 115 Dacos, p. 4 116H. Egger with A. Michaelis and c. Huelsen ed., Codex Escurialensis: Ein Skizzenbuch aus dem Werkstaat Domenico Ghirlandaios (Vienna: Hoelder, 1906). 66

and it is eloquent testimony to the importance of the

private sector in the Roman renaissance. (The sketchbook,

Ghirlandaio's drawings and the Golden House will be more

fully discussed in the next chapter).

Drawings made by artists of an antiquarian bent not

only provide contemporary scholars with evidence of this

archeological discovery; it was in the same manner that

knowledge of these antiquities was passed from workshop to

workshop in the Renaissance. Dacos has commented upon the

"scientific care" with which the new decorative motifs and

sc h emes were cop1e. d • 117 Such drawings, outstanding for

their archeological accuracy and attention to detail, were 118 something of a novelty at this time. But similar

drawings must have been used by the Neapolitan sculptor

Pietro Paolo di Antonisios, or Nisio, who was responsible

for the narrative reliefs of the lives of Peter and Paul on

the confessional tabernacle of Sixtus Iv. 119 Gombrich

has remarked that this "astonishing pastiche of ancient

formulas" is often overlooked in discussions of the style

117N. Dacos, "Ghirlandaio et l'antique," Bulletin de l'institut historigue belge de Rome 34 (1962), 430. 118 J. Rushton, Italian Renaissance Figurative Sketchbooks (PhD Dissertation, University of Minnesota, 1976) 1 P• 170.

119F. Burger, "Das Konfessionstabernakel Sixtus IVs und sein Meister," Jahrbuch der preussischen Kunstsammlungen. 29 (1907), 95-116, 150-167. 67

all'antica.120 And indeed, althoug·h Nisio has been

called a "hack" who barely knew how to copy a classical 121 re 11e. f , copy t h em h e d"d1 --cop1ous. 1 y. Scarce 1y a

figure in this series of reliefs is independently created; virtually all are derivative. And the range of antique

sources plundered is most impressive: the Column of Trajan,

the Arches of Marcus Aurelius and Constantine, that of

Trajan at Benevento, and more. 122

Whatever the merits or demerits of Nisio the

sculptor, his work offers further evidence that an

enthusiasm for antiquities was abroad among the artistic

community in Sistine Rome. And the accuracy with which he

copied antique sources, however pedestrian, parallels the

scientific care of the drawings made in the Golden House of

Nero some five years later. As mentioned, this archeological approach to antiquity was quite novel at the time. In seeking to define this spirit of Sistine antiquarianism further, artists' drawings after the antique will again be of help.

Nisio and Ghirlandaio were not the first artists to draw the antiquities of Rome when visiting the Eternal

120 E. H. Gombrich, "The Style all'antica: Imitation and Assimilation," in Norm and Form, p. 124. 121 L. Ettlinger, "Pollaiuolo's Tomb of Sixtus IV," Journal of the Warburg and courtauld Institutes. 16 (1953) 1 245.

122Burger, pp. 101-102 and passim. 68

City. And of course many artists studied antiquities

closer to home. Degenhart has estimated that "masters like

Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, Donatello, Pisanello, Uccello,

Filarete, Alberti, Jacopo Bellini, Gozzoli, Filippo Lippi, 123 and o thers cop1e. d" an t'1qu1 't' 1es. Enoug h sue h d raw1ngs '

have survived to allow scholars to trace the emergence and

subsidence of various currents in the Quattrocento copying

of classical antiquities. One such current must be

discussed briefly here.

It was only with the third quarter of the fifteenth

century that drawings after the antique began to reflect

the rise of an archeological interest in antiquity of the

sort evidenced by Nisio and the drawings in the Escorial 124 sketchbook. To an increasing degree, the artist

retreated and the faithful copyist came to the fore, with groups of drawings and eventually entire sketchbooks being devoted exclusively to the careful registering of classical motifs and monuments. Whole sheets began to be devoted to

individual monuments, a stark departure from the

123 B. Degenhart, Italianische Zeichnungen des fruehen fuenfzehnten Jahrhunderts (Basel: Amerbach, 1949), p. 15. 4 12 A group o f d raw1ngs . 1n . th e Am b ros1ana . "introduce the long series" of studies reflecting the rise of an archeological interest in antique monuments on the part of artists: B. Degenhart and A. Schmitt, "Gentile da Fabriano in Rom und die Anfaenge des Antikenstudiums," Muenchner Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst. Ser. 3, 5 (1960) 59-151 deal with the subject. Cf. Rushton, pp. 170 and passim. 69

conventional pattern-book practice of randomly combining heterogeneous motifs on the same page. Particularly

striking is the increasing reluctance of artists to arbitrarily recreate the missing portions of damaged

antiquities. At the same time, the range of sources copied

reveals a new breadth of interest in the whole spectrum of

accessible antiquities. Until this juncture, artists had

on the whole confined their copying to antique figural motifs from historical and sarcophagus reliefs. Now in addition drawings of architectural elements, ground plans,

statues, coins, gems, panoramas (vedute) of Roman topography, arches and columns, and decorative motifs such as those from the Golden House of Nero began to appear.

Even drawings of reliefs began to reproduce the entire design without the traditional selection of only attractive figure types. Finally, drawings began to appear with documentation of the site where the artist found the monument he copied.

The causes of this turn of events lie beyond the proper con f 1nes. o f th.1s paper. 125 But knowledge of this current in the Quattrocento assimilation of antiquity helps place developments in Sistine Rome in perspective. The antiquarian spirit it reveals was the product and in some ways the culmination of a trend characteristic of the

125Rushton, p. 173. 70 period. And like the continuing current of Roman humanism, it was most in evidence in the activities of individuals only loosely allied with the Curia and pursuing their own ends. An awareness of the existence of this "second face" of Sistine Rome is essential to the understanding of the impact of Rome upon Botticelli and Ghirlandaio, which forms the subject of the next chapter. Chapter 3

THE SISTINE SOJOURN

Ghirlandaio in Rome

The surviving contract for the Sistine frescoes does not specify which artists were to paint which frescoes 126 in the cycle. But Vasari says that Ghirlandaio painted the Calling of the Apostles (Fig. 16), the third fresco in the Christ cycle; and this was probably his trial piece, as discussed in an assessment of January 1482. 127

The fact that none of the frescoes in the Moses cycle was done by Ghirlandaio may be due to his having been absent in 128 t h e S pr1ng. o f 1482 wh 1'1 e ge t t1ng . marr1e' d 1n ' Fl orence.

Back in Rome, he may have executed the Resurrection of

Christ on the entrance wall. This is so heavily

126Reprinted in Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, pp. 120-121.

127vasari-Milanesi, III, 259 (Hinds trans. p. 71); the assessment in Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, pp. 122-123, discussed by him, p. 28.

128 Et tl'1nger, Th e S1s' t'1ne Ch ape 1 , pp. 28 - 29 •

71 72 overpainted that any judgement of Ghirlandaio's work in the c h ape 1 mus t b e b ase d so 1 e 1 y on h1s. c a 11'1ng. 129

The Calling of the Apostles clearly reveals the continuity of Ghirlandaio's Sistine frescoes with his earlier works: he was still cultivating and working within the boundaries of distinctly Florentine traditions. The

Sistine fresco's resemblance to Masaccio's Tribute Money in the Brancacci Chapel of the Florentine church of s. Maria del Carmine is striking; both display the same classical gravity and dignity of dress and bearing on the part of the characters, and the same boldly defined forms. 130

Other elements of Ghirlandaio's fresco show a similar continuity with his earlier works. Although the theme did not permit the painter to offer one of his patented architectural settings, he managed by careful construction of a landscape background to concentrate the action and his considerable cast of characters within a shallow strip of stage in the foreground. Similarly,

Ghirlandaio's gifts as a portraitist are again in evidence. Except for the principal protagonists in the painting (as indicated, themselves quite Masaccesgue), the remaining figures, some fifty-three in number, seem to be

129stastny, passim. 130 Lauts, p. 17. 73 portraits. It has been suggested that these represent members of the Florentine colony in Sistine Rome. 131

This would tally well with the other Florentine qualities of the fresco.

In one respect this fresco marked a break in

Ghirlandaio's development. Like all the Sistine istorie and unlike most of Ghirlandaio's earlier commissions, this subject called for explicit narrative. But this was less of a break than it may at first seem. Along with the other painters in the chapel, Ghirlandaio used continuous narrative in order to fit in all the separate episodes of the story he had to relate. This relieved him of the task of creating an integrated narrative composition.

Ghirlandaio's fresco has this, too, in common with

Masaccio's Tribute Money.

For all the striking continuity in style between

Ghirlandaio's early Florentine works and his Sistine fresco, this experience of Rome was more decisive for his 132 development as an artist than his visit of 1475. His indebtedness to native Florentine traditions did not prevent him from learning from his Sistine sojourn. But this formative experience was interpreted and assimilated in a distinctly Florentine fashion: Ghirlandaio saw Rome

131 Lauts, p. 17.

132nacos, La Decouverte, p. 61, and "Ghirlandaio," p. 420. 74 through Florentine eyes. This can best be demonstrated through a consideration of Ghirlandaio as a draftsman.

Vasari makes the following statement in his Life of

Ghirlandaio:

It is said that when Domenico was drawing antiquities at Rome, such as arches, baths, columns, colosseums, amphitheatres, aqueducts, etc., his drawing was so exact that he was able to work with his eye unaided by rule or compass, and that the dimi~~ions were as accurate as if he had measured them.

This remark accords with the testimony of Condivi, who states that Ghirlandaio kept a sketchbook which he made accessible to his students. This sketchbook, according to

Condivi, contained drawings of ruins, shepherds with their 134 fl oc k s an d d ogs, 1 and scapes andb u1"ld" 1ngs. s oon a f ter the turn of the century, H. Egger was able convincingly to relate this volume to an anonymous sketchbook in the

Escorial (the Codex Escurialensis discussed above). 135

Only occasionally noticed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the volume was first brought to the attention of the scholarly community by Carl Justi, \"/ho came across it in 1879 while pursuing other matters. For some time the sketchbook was attributed to Giuliano da Sangallo or his circle on the basis of the relationship between certain of

133vasari-Milanesi, III, 271-272 (Hinds trans. p. 76) • 134A. Condivi, The Life of Michelangelo, trans. A. Wohl, ed. H. Wohl (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1976), p. 10. 135 Above, at n. 116. 75

its drawings and others independently assigned to the 136 architect and sculptor.

By comparison with other drawings securely attributed to Ghirlandaio, and by showing that innumerable quotations from the Escorial material occur both in

Ghirlandaio's own works and those of his school, Egger clearly established that the drawings in the Madrid codex 137 were in fact from the Ghirlandaio workshop. At the

same time, Egger shm1ed that the majority of these drawings were patently derivative: While produced in the Ghirlandaio shop, probably during the 1490s, most were careful copies of studies done by Ghirlandaio, not autograph drawings by the master himself. 138

As previously noted, the drawings of the Codex

Escurialensis include the earliest documents concerning the discovery of the Golden House of Nero. Of the eighty-two folios contained in the volume, seventeen are devoted to material from the Golden House. Of these, fourteen are careful copies of the fantastic, often bizarre decorative motifs known from their source as "grotesques"

136Egger's introduction, pp. 7-17.

137Egger's demonstration: pp. 17-53; J. Shearman, "Raphael, Rome and the Codex Escurialensis," Master Drawings. 15, No.2 (Summer, 1977), 108.

138shearman, pp. 116-117. 76

139 (grottesche). The three remaining drawings from the Golden House copy ceiling paintings from the "golden vault"

(volta dorata) so labelled in the Codex. 140

The painstaking accuracy of these drawings can be confirmed through comparison with the monuments themselves and, when these have decayed beyond recognition, through

comparison with later copies of the same motifs. Dacos'

comment regarding the accuracy of the drawings in the Codex has been cited above. She further notes that these drawings were frequently complemented by topographical

indications which "testify to an almost archeological concern with precision." And general overviews alternate w1t. h s t u d'1es o f d eta1'1 , o ft en rewor k e d severa 1 t1mes. . 141 The archeological nature of these drawings was unquestionably characteristic of those by Ghirlandaio on which they were largely based. One indication of this is that the topographical indications which are such a striking feature of the Codex studies are frequently marred by inaccuracies due to the misreading of the originals.142 On the basis of the Codex Escurialensis and what these models must have been like, Ghirlandaio

139Foll. 12v, 13, 13v, 14, 14v, 15, 32, 34v, 41, 42, 45v, 50, 52, 52v, 58, 65.

14°Foll. 6, 10, 10v.

141oacos, La Decouverte, p. 61. 142 Egger, pp. 12-13. 77 deserves to be considered the outstanding representative of the archeological trend in the Quattrocento assimilation of 143 antiquity. It seems fitting, therefore, that it was

Ghirlandaio who drew the attention of his fellow artists to the newly discovered Golden House of Nero. 144

The quotation from Vasari suggests the range of antiquities Ghirlandaio copied in Rome. And the Codex is unique in its time not only by being exclusively devoted to drawings after the antique, but also for the variety of 145 ant1qu1t1es· · · cop1e· d • An ex h aus t'1ve survey o f th e contents is impossible here, but a brief overview will place a more detailed discussion of a select few drawings in its proper context.

Of seventeen sarcophagus reliefs copied in the

Codex, most appear virtually in their entirety; 146 occasional attempts at restoration are carried out responsibly; and these drawings are in some cases the 147 earliest extant studies of these reliefs.

Additionally, the Codex contains a number of panoramas of

143 Rushton, pp. 188-189, 210-211.

144oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 454.

145Rushton, pp. 105-114.

146sarcophagus reliefs: Foll. 5, 8v, 15v, 28, 34, 34v, 36, 36v, 38, 39v, 40, 42, 44v, 55, 65v, 66. 147 E.g., fol. 8v. 78 contemporary Rome, similar to drawings in Sangallo's sketchbooks. The accuracy of these drawings is in sharp contrast to the conventional stylized representations of the city and its landmarks, a tradition which traces back to such medieval pilgrims' guidebooks as the Mirabilia 148 Urbis Romae.

Other drawings in the Codex are of celebrated Roman buildings, including the Pantheon, the Colosseum and the

Mausoleum of Hadrian (the Castel Sant'Angelo). 149 Copies of architectural reliefs in the sketchbook include those from the Arches of Constantine, Titus and Septimius

Severus, as well as from the Column of Trajan. 150

Finally, the Codex contains drawings of free-standing sculptures, ranging from the equestrian statue of Marcus

Aurelius to a Standing Hercules in the Lysippan manner, and from an Enthroned Zeus to the earliest drawing of the

Apollo Belvedere. 151

148on these panoramas, below, Chap. 4 Sec. 2 passim. 149 Pantheon; Fall. 7v, 24v, 28v; Colosseum: Fall. 29, 30; Castel Sant' Angelo: Fol. 30v. 150 Arch of Constantine: Fol. 18; Arch of Titus: Fol. 46v; Arch of Septimius Severus; Fol. 35v; Column of Trajan: Fall. 60v, 61, 61v, 62v, 63, 63v, 64v.

151Marcus Aurelius: Fol. 31v; Hercules: Fol. 37; Apollo Belvedere: Foll. 53, 64. The last of these supports Wickhoff's thesis regarding the "stranger" in the Sistine Last Acts of Moses: above, at n. 109. 79

The same archeological precision which characterized the drawings after the paintings of the

Golden House was also a feature of these other drawings in the Codex. The following discussion concerns those drawings of monuments which were almost certainly known by 1481.152

Drawings of sarcophagus reliefs made up the majority of dravdngs after the antique through the first half of the fifteenth century. Generally speaking, artists throughout this period approached such reliefs quit~ selectively, appropriating individual figures or small figural groups and often combining these with similar motifs from other sources in a decorative fashion. The drawings of sarcophagus reliefs in the Codex are in a different vein and provide particularly instructive insight into Ghirlandaio's approach to the drawing of antiquities. Folio 8 verso of the Codex contains a drawing of the Judgement of Paris (Fig. 21). The many extant drawings and engravings of this sarcophagus relief indicate the 153 es t eem 1"t enJoye. d 1n . the Rena1ssance. . It has recently been shown that the figure of Venus from Mantegna's

152rt is likely that some of the drawings in the Codex are based on originals not by Ghirlandaio, Confining this survey to monuments probably known by 1481 seems the safest course under the circumstances.

153Michaelis in Egger's "descriptive catalog," p. 64. 80

Parnassus was derived from this same relief. 154 As with most of the sarcophagus reliefs copied in the Codex, it is copied almost in its entirety and takes up a whole sheet. Because it preserves the relief in a nearly undamaged state

(unlike later copies), this drawing, like the volume as a whole, has been indispensable to archeologists. 155

Moreover, as with other drawings in the volume, the location of the sarcophagus at the time (S. Maria in

Monterone ) 1s. note d • 156 This is the only indication of its provenance prior to its incorporation in the 157 m1'd -seventeent h century 1n. t h e V1'11 a Pamph'l' 1 1.

Of special interest are the drawings of monuments on the west flank of the Quirinal, known at the time as

Monte Cavallo from the famous pair of Horse-tamers (the

Dioscuri) which throughout the Middle Ages had been the

n '1 • 1 • • • 158 f oremost marve 1 s '' on p1 gr1ms 1t1nerar1es. Folios 34 recto and verso of the Codex contain drawings of a sarcophagus fragment depicting a triton and nereid with a

154P. Lehmann, "The Sources and Meaning of Mantegna's Parnassus," in Samothracian Reflections (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973), pp. 73-75.

155Egger, p. 64.

156Holograph: asanta maria amonterone i roma.

157Michaelis in Egger, p. 64; on the sarcophagus: C. Robert, Die antiken Sarkophagreliefs II (1890; rpt. Berlin: Grote 1968), pp. 11ff, No. 10.

158A. Michaelis, "Monte Cavallo," Mitteilungen des kaiserlich Deutschen Archaeologischen Instituts, Roemische Abteilung. 13 (1898), 248-279. • •

81 putto in fluid, interlocking poses (Fig. 22). Like so many of these drawings, this one indicates the location of the relief by an inscription: in chavagli. When Egger published the Codex the fragment was thought to be lost, but Dacos identified it as a bas-relief in Grottaferrata, showing that it is still in much the same condition as in the fifteenth century and that Ghirlandaio's drawing must . 159 h ave b een qu1te accurate.

On the basis of its inscription (di chavagli) another drawing in the volume--a study of the river god

Nile on folio 58 verso (Fig. 23)--had its origin in the

Quirinal region. The monument copied was also well-known throughout the Middle Ages and it is included in the Codex twice (compare folio 39 recto), which suggests its continuing popularity among artists. 160

While the Horse-tamers themselves are not among the monuments from Monte Cavallo copied in the Codex, there is a drawing of them in Dresden which has recently been attributed to the Ghirlandaio circle and which bears a striking stylistic similarity to the Codex drawings. This may be a loose leaf from the sketchbook; if so, it points

159N. Dacos, "A propos d'un fragment de sarcophage de Grottaferrata et de son influence a la Renaissance," Bulletin de l'institut historique belge de Rome. 33 (1961), 143-150.

160Egger, p. 143. 82 up the importance of the Quirinal region to Ghirlandaio's

Roman studies. 161

Especially close to the Dresden drawing is the drawing of the Borghese Hercules in the Codex (folio 37 recto), annotated "found in Monte Cavallo in the chapel of

Hercules" (trovato imonte chavallo nella chapella derchole). This sculpture, a standing Hercules in the

Lysippan style, had a long history after its discovery. In

1550 Aldrovandi described it as being on the property of

Cardinal Carpi on the Quirinal. Prior to this, from the early 1480s to 1550, it was in the Palazzo Piccolomini where the Church of s. Andrea della Valle now stands. Construction of the church may even have occasioned the statue's return to the Quirinal, where Ghirlandaio had seen it ca. 1481 (Fig. 24). 162

The chief ornament of the Piccolomini Palace had been a group of Graces which previously had been in the

Palazzo Colonna on the west side of the Quirinal. The

Belvedere Torso was also in the Colonna Palace at this time, whence the reference in the Codex to the "chapel of

Hercules."163 Thus Ghirlandaio must have drawn the

161Attribution to the Ghirlandaio circle: "Census of Antique Works of Art Known to the Renaissance," Institute of Fine Arts, New York, and the Warburg Institute, cited in Olson, p. 11, n. 9; Egger: p. 47.

162 M1c. h ae 1.1s 1n. Egger, p. 106 • 163 Michaelis in Egger, p. 106. 83

Borghese Hercules while at the Colonna palace. Dacos has suggested that Ghirlandaio saw the Grottaferrata relief in 164 the same collection.

The importance of this region of Sistine Rome to

Ghirlandaio's antiquarian studies is in itself striking; but that he evidently enjoyed access to the Colonna collections is remarkable. For the Colonna were the hated enemies of the pope and the latter undertook a harsh and perh aps unreasonabl e campa1gnc • aga1nst• t h em. 165

Despite the conservative milieu fostered by the papacy, which led "the Sistine artists to lose some of t h e1r, ease 1n' Rome, n166 Gh, 1r 1 an d a1o, manage d to encounter, and encounter decisively, the "second face" of Rome: the unofficial world of Sistine culture in which artists and

16 4oacos, "A propos," p. 144. 165 E. Lee, p. 155; Lee recounts an anecdote from the contemporary diary of s. Infessura which suggests that Ghirlandaio may have been courting danger. In 1484, Sixtus summoned a painter who had "produced a splendid panorama of the siege" of Cavi, defended by the Colonna from papal arms. The painter "had invariably shown the troops of the church in rout." Sixtus had the painter jailed and lashed, had his house plundered "and would have had him executed the following morning" had he not been persuaded to do otherwise. Perhaps the poor fellow's having shown in one corner a Franciscan friar in a compromising situation with a woman helped persuade the pope that he was mad! (E. Lee, pp. 44-45). On the collections of the Colonna: P. Huebner, Le Statue di Rorna. Grundlagen fuer eine Geschichte der antiken Monumente in der Renaissance (Liepzig: von Klinkhardt and Biermann, 1912), I (the only vol. published), 90.

166Andrieux, p. 206. 84 men of letters met; the private sphere in which enthusiasm

for antiquity constituted a bridge between men of various vocations and interests. This is evidenced by the range of antiquities Ghirlandaio drew while in Rome, the

archeological spirit with which he approached the monuments of Rome and the enduring imprint of this experience on his art. Along with his evident disregard of Roman politics, his initiative and enthusiasm for the dissemination of the antiquarian knowledge he acquired in Rome justifies regarding him as a major representative of the renaissance movement in Sistine Rome.

The fact that Ghirlandaio culminated a trend in the

Quattrocento appropriation of antiquity should not obscure the fact that his approach was above all determined by his artistic aims and concerns as these were defined during his early Florentine years. As shown above, two qualities stand out in Ghirlandaio's works of this period: a keen objectivity which would make him a great portraitist, and a mastery of decorative architectural stage-settings. These, and the discipline of his Florentine artistic apprenticeship generally, must surely have rendered him open to the archeological brand of antiquarianism current in Sistine Rome. Moreover, architectural backgrounds in

Italian painting had long drawn on a repertory of classical motifs, so that a painter who on occasion pushed this type of decoration to the point of pedantry would naturally feel 85 drawn to a basically archeological approach to classical 167 monuments.

Botticelli in Rome.

As with Ghirlandaio's sole surviving Sistine fresco, Botticelli's Roman works display a striking continuity with his earlier efforts. Botticelli was assigned two frescoes in the Moses cycle and one in the

Christ cycle. The first, probably his trial piece, depicts scenes from the temptation of Christ by Satan. 168 Like all the Sistine frescoes, this one required the coordination of several disparate scenes. Moreover, for theological reasons Botticelli also had to include an Old

Testament sacrifice and thus to integrate ideas and events related only symbolically. This he managed in masterly fashion (Fig. 15).

Compositionally, Botticelli made the focal point and pivot of his fresco, both spatially and theologically, the image of the temple of Jerusalem, which happens to

167K. Clark, "Architectural Backgrounds in Fifteenth Century Italian Paintings," The Arts. 1, n.d., 23:" ••• Ghirlandaio, himself one of the worst perpetrators of pedantic classicisms •••• " This harsh judgement, which clearly refers to the frescoes in s. M. Novella executed in the late 1480s (below, Chap. 4 Sec. 3 passim), ignores two facts: the execution of these "pedantries" was largely due to Ghirlandaio's pupils and assistants, and they seem to have a definite stylistic function in the frescoes.

168Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 28. 86

figure in both the temptation narrative and in the practice of Israelite sacrifice. The foreground of the scene is occupied by an event which may represent the daily sacrifice offered up before the temple by the high priest.

Specifically, it has been identified as the Cleansing of the Leper (Lev. 14:1-32); but this has been 169 contested. Whatever the rite being performed, figures

169 This was Steinmann's suggestion: Botticelli, pp. 46-52. Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 78, thinks the Old Testament purification rite (Lev. 14:1-32) "has no textual or iconographic" relevance to the fresco program. Lightbown, I, 63, agrees and accepts Ettlinger's claim (pp. 78-88) that the scene really exemplifies the notion of Israelite blood sacrifice expounded in the Epistle to the Hebrews. But.it is noteworthy that Jesus' first miracle after the Sermon on the Mount was the healing of the leper (Mat. 8:1-4), prominently illustrated in the Sistine fresco of the Sermon on the Mount (ill.: Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, Pl. 11). Ettlinger himself, pp. 89-90, notes that this is the only miracle of Christ illustrated in the cycle and that "special reasons" beyond the narrative's proximity to the Sermon on the Mount must account for its presence. He plausibly suggests that a contrast of Christ as priest and Old Testament priestly sacrifice, as in the episode in Leviticus, is intended. But he fails to see that this provides the "textual" and "iconographic" support needed for the theory that the Mosaic ritual is relevant to the sacrificial scene in the "temptation" fresco. Relevant, but perhaps what it in fact illustrates is the sacrifice offered at Jesus' command by the leper (Mat. 8:4), modified in conformity with Pauline views of Israelite sacrifice. This supports Ettlinger's stress on the importance of the Epistle to the Hebrews, but also the relevance of the passage in Leviticus via Matthew 8. It certainly seems more plausible than Ettlinger's attempt to see in the young man approaching the priest in the foreground an apocryphal image of Christ as a priest. His argument at this point is weak and strained, as well as half-hearted (pp. 86-87). Salvini, p. 146, accepts Steinmann's interpretation of the sacrificial scene but notes the relevance of the neighboring Healing of the Leper in the Sermon on the Mount (n. 18). He confuses the issue by referring to this scene as the "Cleansing of the Leper"--the conventional label of the former scene. 87 rush forward from all sides to witness the event.

Overhead, on the pinnacle of the temple, Satan tempts

Christ to cast himself down. To the upper left of this scene is the first of the temptations as recounted in the

Gospels, in which Satan dares Christ to turn stones into bread. To the right in the third temptation, Satan has led

Christ to a high mountain and offers him dominion over the world.

In each instance, Botticelli selected a climactic moment in the biblical narrative. This is especially true of the third temptation, where Satan is shown being cast down from the mountain, graphically illustrating Mat. 4:10:

"Get thee behind me, Satan."

Two secondary passages in the fresco serve to unify the upper and lower registers compositionally while also pointing the theological theme that unites them programmatically. Below Christ's first temptation at the left, Christ discourses to a group of angels concerning the sacrifice in the foreground, thus focusing the beholder's attention on this pivotal theme. At the right, as Satan falls, angels "minister" to Christ quite literally (Mat.

4:11): they set a table with bread and wine. These

Eucharistic symbols underscore the theological theme of the 88

fresco as a whole, that is, the transcending of Israelite

blood sacrifice by the historic sacrifice of Christ. 170

The continuity between Botticelli's Roman fresco

and his pre-Sistine works is considerable. The

requirements of the Sistine program certainly did not favor

the artistic concerns of the young Florentine. Both the

heavy burden of the typological program with its symbolic mechanisms and the requirements of continuous narrative

might have been expected to frustrate an artist intent on

naturalistic narration and dramatic compositional unity.

The extent to which Botticelli carried out his assignment

while still pursuing his own interests is impressive.

According to Ettlinger, of all the painters active in the

Sistine Chapel, Botticelli "emerges as the best theatrical producer." 171 This verdict is substantiated by

Botticelli's two frescoes in the Moses cycle.

Botticelli was assigned the second and fifth frescoes in this series, which runs chronologically backwards from the altar end of the chapel. This right-to-left arrangement posed a considerable challenge for the artists involved. Botticelli's first work in this series corresponds typologically to the temptation fresco

170This much of Ettlinger's interpretation (previous note) seems most convincing.

171Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 59. 89

just discussed. The inscriptions indicate the common

denominator in the theme of trial and temptation

(temptatio). The "trials" of Moses are set in a hilly

landscape representing alternately Midian and Egypt (Fig.

14) •

The first scene, at the right, shows the young

Moses in the act of slaying the Egyptian taskmaster while

the Israelite youth the latter had beaten is led off by a

woman retreating in terror at Moses' wrath. Next is shown

the flight of r-Ioses into the wilderness of Midian and,

still on the right, Moses is seen driving away the

Midianite shepherds from the well. Thus the three scenes

at the right all feature dramatic events and violent deeds.

A pastoral interlude is offered by the scene of

Moses drawing water for the daughters of Jethro at the

center of the fresco. While prefiguring typologically 172 Christ's care for his Church, the passage also marks a

transition from the violence and commotion of the

right-hand scenes to the more orderly and subdued left side of the fresco. This scene also serves as a thematic point of transition, as the young Moses, given to acts of unbridled passion, is transformed through his encounter with God in the burning bush, as depicted at the upper left

in illustration of Exod. 3:5. Finally, in the left

172 Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 53. 90

foreground Moses is shown active again, now responsive to

the Lord's command that he lead the Israelites from their

bondage in Egypt and no longer acting spontaneously from wrath or passion. Once again Botticelli managed to turn to

advantage the requirements of his iconographic assignment,

achieving in the process a melding of narrative drama and

theological message.

Botticelli's final Sistine fresco, the Punishment of the Rebellion against Aaron (Fig. 17), is the most

telling witness of the continuity between these Sistine

frescoes and the painter's early oeuvre. This fresco, like

the other two, is at once a narrative and a theological

statement. This time, however, the narrative called for only three scenes, again progressing from right to left.

At the right is shown the revolt of the Israelites

against Moses' authority. Joshua tries to restrain the crowd which has learned of the warlike nature of the

Canaanites whose land Moses proposes to conquer (Num:

14-16). On the extreme left the outcome of the matter is seen as the rebels are swallowed up by the Earth which opens below them; but the innocent are saved from this fate.

At center stage, set against a remarkably accurate replica of the Arch of Constantine, there is depicted the sacrifice wrongfully performed by the sons of Aaron (Lev.

10). Aaron stands with a censer beside the altar while 91

Moses raises his rod high and calls down punishment upon the rebels. Were it not for the repetitious appearance of

Moses and Aaron in the various scenes of the fresco, it could easily be read as one continuous narrative frieze, so well did Botticelli "the storyteller" unify his composition by the use of gesture and, especially, the triumphal arch in the middle ground. 173

As with Ghirlandaio, the continuity of Botticelli's

Roman paintings with his earlier Florentine works does not preclude his having been deeply influenced by his experience of Rome. Two difficulties interfere with a conclusive assessment of this influence. In the first place, there is no Codex Escurialensis to give evidence of

Botticelli's response to Rome. Accordingly, insight into this matter must come solely from the artist's commissioned

Roman productions. Consequently the demands and preferences of the patron, his attitude toward antiquity and the iconography of the specific work under consideration, must all be taken into account.

Secondly, classical citations in the Sistine frescoes present, as indicated, many difficulties. It is generally agreed that the pope, himself no mean theologian; and his advisers closely supervised the execution of the chapel program; and the evidence for this position has been

173Ettlinger's epithet, Botticelli, p. 53. 92 outlined above, where it was also shown that classical motifs in the chapel decoration are no exception to this rule. Therefore it is difficult at best to attempt to estimate the meaning of such motifs for the painters who produced them.

In view of these difficulties, it is fortunate that all three of Botticelli's Sistine frescoes have survived, compared to Ghirlandaio' s single vmrk. r-1oreover, for all their continuity with the painter's earlier works, these frescoes are less stridently Florentine than Ghirlandaio's

Calling of the Apostles. Thus each of Botticelli's Sistine frescoes contains at least one citation of an antique Roman monument. The same is true of a fourth work executed in

Rome: an Adoration of the Magi on panel, now in the

National Gallery, Washington (Fig. 25). Thus the prospects for success in determining the nature and degree of the impact of Rome on Botticelli, while less favorable than in the case of Ghirlandaio, are somewhat hopeful.

Two of the classical citations in Botticelli's

Sistine frescoes were almost surely required by the pope as noted above. His figure of Moses in the upper left portion of the fresco, seated on the ground and removing his shoes in the presence of the Lord, is a visual reference to the

Thorn-Puller on the Capitol (Fig. 14). 174 It was

174 Above, at n. 110. 93

suggested above that the use of a classical model in this context may have been intended to underscore the contrast between the self-willed youthful Moses and the God-fearing servant of the Lord encountered after his theophany, a contrast that pervades the fresco. And the fact that the two other appearances of the Thorn-Puller motif in the chapel occur in Perugino's Baptism of Christ and

Signorelli's Last Acts and Death of Moses suggests that the motif was felt to be appropriate to sacramental contexts, moments of conversion, death and regeneration.

The way in which Botticelli incorporated the

Capitoline statue differs strikingly from the other two painters' solutions. Botticelli has relegated the decisive scene in which the motif figures to the background of the fresco. Since this was probably one of the first frescoes in the cycle to be completed, one can imagine that the other painters were encouraged to make their references to the classical prototype more prominent. Both Perugino and

Signorelli place the motif centrally in the foreground.

Similarly, Botticelli's version of the motif is clothed, while the other two versions in their seminudity and stonelike appearance visually recall antique statuary.

There can be little doubt that the presence of the remarkably faithful rendering of the Arch of Constantine dominating Botticelli's Punishment of the Rebellion against

Aaron (Fig. 17) is due to the requirements of the program. 94

The same is true of the repetition of the motif in

Perugino's pivotal fresco of the Delivery of the Keys (Fig,

18) exactly opposite Botticelli's painting. But there are major differences between the two representations.

While Perugino removed his versions of the arch to the background, Botticelli made the obligatory classical citation prominent in his fresco. Compositionally, the arch unifies a narrative that would otherwise threaten to collapse into three disparate episodes. Moreover, in this case the classical motif, unlike Perugino's versions, is rendered accurately down to the most minute details. 175

Indeed, Botticelli's copy of the Arch of Constantine invites comparison with the most archeological of drawings in the Codex Escurialensis.

The final explicit classical citation in

Botticelli's Sistine frescoes occurs in his only fresco in the Christ cycle. Among the foreground figures in his sacrificial scene in Fig. 15, there is a small putto-like boy bearing grapes, his legs wrapped round by a snake.

That this classically nude, lapidary figure has an antique pedigree is generally conceded. There is no such unanimity, however, when it comes to the source of the motif. The Capitoline Girl with a Snake, the Cesi Boy with an Urn, and Boethius' Boy with a Goose have all been

175Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 68. 95

suggested; others feel that the figure is a pastiche of 176 such sources. Nor is the figure's function in the

fresco obvious; but Ettlinger has suggested an element of 177 Christological symbolism.

Olson has remarked that many figures in this fresco

suggest a study of antique marbles. 178 This, with the

classicizing figure in the foreground and the sense of

animation introduced by the female figures entering from

the sides, lends to the foreground scene of sacrifice a

definite antique air, and this despite the difficulty which

attends the question of precise classical influences. The

drapery and animation of these female attendants are

primarily responsible for the sense of a sacrifice

all'antica. Significantly, Botticelli has subordinated the

putto-like figure to that of the striding female figure at

his side: The sense of animation was foremost among the

artist's aims.

Whatever the requirements of the Sistine program,

Botticelli seems to have been impressed by certain aspects

of antique art. While he was no doubt instructed to

include the Arch of Constantine in his second fresco in the

176Lightbown, I, 63, Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 88 and Steinmann, Botticelli, pp. 50-51 (Girl with a Snake); Olson, p. 19 (Cesi statue and/or that of Beothius).

177Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 88.

178 Olson, p. 19. 96

Moses cycle, his painstaking replica of the monument

suggests that Botticelli made an antiquarian virtue of an

iconographic necessity. At the same time this most archeological of the classical citations in Botticelli's

Sistine frescoes served a narrative function. It permitted the painter to integrate a powerfully animated composition which the continuous narrative might otherwise have disintegrated. And this raises an important point.

It was shown above that Ghirlandaio's archeological approach to antiquity was a function of his style and taste as these were formed in his early Florentine years. The same is true of Botticelli. And in view of his concern with narrative drama, it is not surprising to find that

Botticelli did not respond to his experience of Rome in the same way as Ghirlandaio.

The young Botticelli's Albertian quest for the dramatic would lead one to expect that the imagery of passion, so prevalent in Roman art, would have held a special attraction for him. Certainly such figures as the female attendants just discussed, which probably have such antique roots (see Appendix A), lent themselves to dramatic contexts more readily that the other, more explicitly classical motifs of the Sistine frescoes.

There is further evidence that Botticelli had begun to feel an affinity for the expressive elements of antique imagery. During his Roman sojourn, Botticelli painted a 97

fifth Adoration of the Magi (Fig. 25). This, like the

series of Adorations surveyed in Chapter 1, shows

Botticelli continuing his search for the greatest possible

dramatic concentration and narrative unity. Like the

London tondo (Fig. 11), the Roman Adoration utilizes

classical ruins to provide an architectural stage for the

scene. The London tondo also features among the Magi's

retinue grooms actively subduing restive horses. Similar

figures occur in other Quattrocento Adorations as well as the one Botticelli painted in Rome.

Botticelli's version of the motif in his Roman

Adoration differs from earlier versions, including his own,

in being clearly based upon the Horse-tamers of Monte 179 Cavallo. Since neither the patron who commissioned

this Adoration, nor where it was originally situated, is known it is difficult to say whether this classical motif was requested by the patron or, as seems more likely, was

the artist's own contribution.

It is worth noting that Botticelli did not quote either of the Horse-tamers from the Quirinal literally

(Fig. 26). He took the groom's pose from the left-hand

Dioscuros and intensified his facial expression. The horse was either taken from the right-hand statue or Botticelli reversed the movement of the left-hand sculpture. The

179 Olson, pp. 9-18, 21. 98

result is a closed, insular group, set off from the

surrounding throng. By making the restive horse turn to

the left, moreover, Botticelli was able to direct the

beast's eyes toward the two slim trees rising beside the

groom. The motif may best be interpreted in the spirit of

Botticelli's Madonnas with their Eucharistic symbolism. Is

it not possible that the starting horse, which rears

passionately as it beholds the trees (an age-old cipher for

the cross), and the anguished gaze of the groom register a

prescient awareness of the Christ-child's fate, less

articulate but otherwise not unlike that of Botticelli's 180 ll1adonnas?

In any case, the fact that Botticelli was able to

modify the motif by altering the point of view suggests

that he was working with firsthand knowledge of the

statues. 181 This is possible, of course, in view of the

number of antiquities from the Quirinal recorded in the

Codex Escurialensis and the Dresden drawing of the

Horse-tamers which may also descend from an original 182 Ghirlandaio drawing.

To summarize, the fact that each of Botticelli's paintings executed in Rome includes at least one

180olson, p. 11, goes beyond the stylistic role of the motif to offer a recondite and rather scholastic exegesis. 181 Olson, p. 12. 182Above, at n. 161. 99

unmistakable classical citation suggests that the

Florentine was impressed by the city's antiquities. But

the archeological approach to antiquities represented by

Ghirlandaio and widespread in Sistine Rome was not sufficient for Botticelli. Botticelli only enlisted the monuments of Rome when this would further his dramatic purposes, as in his use of the Horse-tamer of the Quirinal in his Roman Adoration where he exploited the motif to the full, extracting from it the last particle of pathos. Even the careful copy of the Arch of Constantine (which otherwise might evidence an archeological interest in antiquity) was, like the other classical citations in

Botticelli's Sistine frescoes, placed in the service of his fundamental concern with compositional coherence and narrative unity.

Thus Botticelli encountered the antiquarian spirit abroad in Sistine Rome as did Ghirlandaio. And like

Ghirlandaio, Botticelli saw the "second face" of Rome through lenses ground in his early years in Florence. Chapter 4

GHIRLANDAIO AND THE IMPACT OF ROME

The Florentine Synthesis

Ghirlandaio's first artistic evocation of ancient

Rome once back in Florence was in the series of

"illustrious men" which he painted in the Council Hall of 183 the Palazzo Vecchio (1482-84). The few features of these frescoes which seem to draw on classical coins and reliefs do not reproduce material found in the Codex

Escurialensis. The coins and minor gems in the collections of the Medici could have been as influential as anything

Ghirlandaio saw in Rome, although his encounter with Rome may have opened his eyes to such sources. 184 Basically, however, these paintings are a product of indigenous traditions, as is suggested by their debt to Castagno's

183nacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 422-423; J. Dobrick, "Ghirlandaio and Roman Coins," The Burlington Magazine .. 123, No .. 939 (June, 1981), 356-359 .. 184 N. Dacos, Il Tesoro di Lorenzo de' Medici (Florence: Sansoni, 1972) and Dobrick, p .. 356.

100 101 frescoes of uomini illustri in the Villa di Legnaia. 185

It is only in his major fresco cycles in the Florentine churches of s. Trinita and S. M. Novella that Ghirlandaio made extensive use of the antiquarian studies he pursued in Rome. Consequently, these offer the best evidence of the impact of his Roman sojourn on his work as a pa1n. t er. 186

These were his roost important commissions after his work in the Sistine Chapel and occupied Ghirlandaio and his workshop through 1490. As will become apparent, the role of antiquity is significantly different in each cycle.

This suggests that in turning from his drawings after the antique to his commissioned works, patronage must be taken into account. Moreover, even features the fresco cycles have in common could be the result of the shared attitudes of the patrons.

Ghirlandaio had by now become one of the most successful Florentine painters of his day. Thanks to a large workshop which had become the family business, he was able to boast that he never turned down commissions; and these seem t o h ave b een 1nnumera. bl e. 187 Two factors were responsible for this impressive productivity.

185 Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 423.

186oacos, "Ghirlandaio," is a fine survey of classical sources in these cycles.

187 Vasar1-M1. '1 anes1,. II I , 275 • 102

First, there was the size of the workshop. Vasari lists ten painters who worked under Ghirlandaio in s. M. Novella. These include Ghirlandaio's brothers, Davide and

Benedetto, his brother-in-law Sebastiane Mainardi,

Michelangelo Buonarroti, Francesco Granacci, Niccolo Cieco,

Jacopo del Tedesco, Jacopo dell'Indaco, Baldino Baldinelli 188 an d Gl.U. 1'1ano Bug1ar. . d' J.nl.. ' Th'. . l.S 1'l.S t l.S . prob a bl y

accurate, since Vasari could have been informed on this

subject by either Granacci or Ghirlandaio's son

Ridolfo. 189 Moreover, Vasari wrote a Life on both of

these painters, as well as on Ghirlandaio's brothers, in

the second edition of his Vite, which suggests that

Michelangelo was not the only "talent" schooled in the

Ghirlandaio workshop.

Secondly, it was the master's style, much more than his own hand, which defined the character of the work done by the workshop. The uniformity of its products, which makes the discrimination of individual hands a painstaking task, was due above all to Domenico's sober and objective brand of naturalism, which left little room for personal self-expression on the part of pupils and assistants.

Furthermore, these would certainly have been working on the

188vasari-Milanesi, III, 276-277.

189G. Marchini, "The Frescoes in the Church of Santa Haria Novella," The Burlington Magazine. 95, No. 607 (December, 1953), 320-331. 103 basis of preparatory designs of the master, at least in the more visible portions of the work. Consequently, even in a

fresco cycle where Ghirlandaio's own hand is scarcely in evidence, one need not hesitate to speak of the work as his own. 190 Thus when Vasari writes of Ghirlandaio's assistants and pupils in their own right, he generally begins after they ceased their collaboration with

Gh 1r. 1 an d a1o. . 191

In short, the Ghirlandaio workshop produced a large quantity of work of uniformly high quality which bore the stamp of the master. This contributed significantly to his success in the Florence of the 1480s, as did his style.

His gifts as a portrait painter, his talent for recording accurately and soberly the elements of his visual milieu--architecture, landscape, interior setting, etc.--suited him admirably for a role in high demand. For among those who could afford to commission major works of art on the scale of entire fresco cycles, the Florentine bourgeoisie were prominent. And these, for a number of reasons, wished to see themselves and their world reflected in the costly mirror of art. 192 Such were the two men

190 Marchini, p. 323; Rosenauer, "Zum Stil," pp. 73-74.

191Marc h'1n1, . p. 323 •

192Most recent 1 y, L. Mar t'1nes, Power and Imagination: City-States in Renaissance Italy (New York: Rnopf, 1979), pp. 262-265 and passim. 104 responsible for the s. Trinita and s. M. Novella commissions, Francesco Sassetti and Giovanni Tornabuoni:

Florentine bankers, agents of the Medici and socially ambitious as well as conventionally religious.

The Sassetti Chapel

From ca. 1483 through 1485, the Ghirlandaio workshop was occupied with the decoration of the funeral chapel of Francesco Sassetti and his wife, Nera Corsi, in the Church of s. Trinita. The work was completed by 193 Christmas 1485 and Masses began the following year.

The sixteenth-century chronicle of Biliotti documents the fact that the family sepulchral chapel had 194 originally been situated in s. M. Novella. The testimony of Sassetti's grandson indicates that some differences arose between Sassetti and the monks of s. M. Novella, leading the banker to transfer his patronage to s. Trinita. 195 s. M. Novella was a Dominican church and

193The best discussions: A. Warburg, "Francesco Sassettis letztwillige Verfuegung," in Ges. Schr., I, 129- 158. Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 423-428; E. Borsook and J. Offerhaus, "Storia e leggende nella Cappella Sassetti in Santa Trinita," Scritti di storia dell'arte in onore di Ugo Procacci (Milan: Electa Editrice, 1977), I, 289-310.

194In Warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," pp. 137-138. 195In Warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," pp. 130-134. 105

Warburg, who first published these documents, surmised that

Sassetti desired to decorate his family chapel with scenes

from the life of his patron saint, St~ Francis of Assisi~ The Dominicans balking at this invasion by a competing

monastic order, Sassetti was compelled to turn to the Benedictines of S~ Trinita~ 196 There his artistic homage to his patron saint was finally paid (Fig~ 27)~ 197 The interior of the Sassetti Chapel includes six

frescoes with scenes from the life of St~ Francis, divided

into two registers~ On the left side wall, above the tomb

of Bassetti's wife, the cycle begins with St~ Francis

Renouncing his Possessions~ This was originally to be

succeeded by a scene of the Apparition of St~ Francis at

Arles on the altar wall~ Two studies for this fresco exist 198 (Figs~ 28, 29), but in the fresco cycle its place was

taken by a depiction of St~ Francis Reviving the Roman

Notary's Son (Fig~ 30). The reasons for this last-minute

substitution, which clashes with the chronological arrangement of the cycle as a whole, will be discussed presently~ The upper register ends above Bassetti's tomb

196 warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," P~ 137~ Borsook and Offerhaus, P~ 289, note that the documents do not specify the nature of the controversy; but Warburg's thesis is plausible. 197Full ills~: Lauts, Figs~ 36-53~ 198 A~ Rosenauer, "Ein nicht zur Ausfuehrung gelangter Entwurf Domenico Ghirlandajos fuer die Cappella Sassetti," Wiener Jahrbuch fuer Kunstgeschichte~ 25 (1972), 187-196~ 106 on the right lateral wall with St. Francis' Trial by Fire.

The lower register continued chronologically with the Stigmatization of St. Francis directly above the tomb of Sasetti's wife: the Confirmation of the Franciscan Rule

(Fig. 31) above the altar: and finally, the Death of St.

Francis (Fig. 32) over Sassetti's tomb.

To l'7arburg, the banker's insistence on decorating his family's chapel with scenes from the life of his patron saint seemed to bear witness to his piety. For the sake of this desire he was willing to sever the family's traditional ties with the Dominican church. Warburg's thesis seems to find confirmation in Biliotti's chronicle, which states that Sassetti had his chapel "decorated with stories of St. Francis as a votive offering" (et divi

Franc1sc1. . pro vote exornav1. t h.1s t or11s . . ) • 199

Sharply reversing the judgement of such nineteenth- century critics as Ruskin and Taine, Warburg argued that the presence of contemporary portraits (the patron, his family and employers) in the sacred scenes was not a sign of Renaissance "paganism" but a product of the patron's votive attitude. Their inclusion reminded Warburg of the

199warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," p. 137. 107 wax votives offered in great quantity in the Florentine Church of SS~ Annunziata~ 200 Such a personal dimension seems to lie behind the alteration in the fresco cycle mentioned above~ At some time in the planning stage, the Apparition of St~ Francis at Arles was deleted and its place assumed by the scene of

St~ Francis Reviving the Roman Notary's Son~ Warburg long ago suggested that the latter fresco was related to events in Sassetti's personal life~ These seem to be even more relevant in vie,., of the change in the program.

In 1479, Sassetti's young son Teodoro died in Lyon, and another son, born in May of that year, was given the same name. 201 This strongly suggests that the scene of resurrection above the chapel altar, introduced into the fresco cycle unexpectedly and in defiance of the chronological sequence of the paintings, was due to this personal tragedy of the patron, whose own son was thus returned to him after having been taken by death. 202

200 E. H .. Gombrich, "Art and Scholarship," in Meditations on a Hobby Horse and other Essays on the Theory of Art (2d ed.~ London: Phaidon, 1971), pp. 115-116 and in idem Aby Warburg: An Intellectual Biography (London: The warburg Institute, 1970), pp. 116-121, for Warburg's context. Warburg on portraiture: "Bildniskunst und Florentinisches Buergenturn," in Ges. Schr., I, 93-119.

201warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," pp. 131-132, n. 5. 202 Borsook and Offerhaus, pp. 289-290. 108

This interpretation has another important implication: the commission must be dated prior to 1479, before Ghirlandaio's Roman sojourn. This makes all the more striking the fact that, to judge by the Codex

Escurialensis, Ghirlandaio did not approach Rome and her monuments with only this major commission in mind. For the classical elements in the Sassetti Chapel, important though they are, do not begin to suggest the range of material found in the Codex.

One aspect of the Sassetti frescoes is, however, relevant to Ghirlandaio's antiquarian studies in Rome. As shown, the Codex includes a number of panoramic views

(vedute) of Rome and her environs. These may have been undertaken with the Sassetti commission in mind. For one of the two paintings on the exterior of the entrance wall of the chapel is set against a background of contemporary

Rome as viewed from the Ara Coeli, and invites comparison with the panoramas in the sketchbook (Fig. 33).

This fresco depicts the Vision of Augustus.

According to the legend, the Tiburtine Sibyl appeared to the emperor in the heavens in a solar disk, and prophesied the birth of the Messiah. This traditional story has been slightly modified by Ghirlandaio. The Sibyl stands beside the emperor and points to the solar disk, in which he beholds the emblem of the Franciscan St. Bernardino, which in its form alludes to the Host. The same change in I '

109

iconography occurs in Gozzoli's frescoes in the Medici

Palace and seems to reflect St. Bernardino's contribution

to the development of the legend. In this case it is

presumably related to the Franciscan orientation of the

fresco cycle as a whole. So, for that matter, may be the

Roman setting of the vision: for the Franciscan Church of s. M. in Aracoeli is depicted in the background, on the 203 s1te. o f t h e 1 egen d ary v1s1on. . .

The Franciscans of this church zealously promoted

the cult of the Christ-child204 and this, like the prophetic scene itself, points to a second dominant theme

in the chapel decoration. For the chapel is formally dedicated to the Nativity of Christ. 205

Evidently the Franciscan subject of the frescoes on the interior of the chapel was not felt to conflict with this second theme. Indeed, the Franciscan element itself came to be more narrowly defined by virtue of its focus on 206 St. Francis as one who raises the dead. Thus the introduction on the altar wall of a scene of resurrection, while probably inspired by Bassetti's experience of 1479 and clearly suitable for a funeral chapel, also provided a

203Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 292, on the imagery of the fresco and its relatives.

204Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 292.

205warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," pp. 155-157.

206Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 292. 110 point of intersection for the two dominant themes of the chapel decoration~

The companion of the Vision of Augustus on the exterior of the entrance wall is a monochromatic image of

David (Fig~ 34), who was, according to the Gospel of

Matthew, an ancestor of Jesus and in whose psalms prophetic references to Christ had been found from time immemorial~

This David conforms for the most part to the Florentine tradition of such images in sculpture, as exemplified by the Davids of Verrocchio and Donatello, and anticipates also the David of Ghirlandaio's pupil, Michelangelo~ It seems to be unique in its attempt to link the biblical king directly with the Sassetti family by transforming the family coat of arms into David's shield~ Also, the sling of David may refer to the family irnpresa or emblem, also a . 207 s 1 1ng~

De Tolnay has said that this David is "richer in attributes and more complex in meanings than all the 208 earlier Florentine David figures." If so, this is surely due to its function within a complex painted ensemble. In one of its meanings, the David, like the

Vision of Augustus next to it, refers to the corning of the

Messiah. Together they represent the pagan and Hebraic

207 c. de Tolnay, "Two Frescoes by Domenico and Davide Ghirlandaio in Santa Trinita in Florence," Wallraf­ Richarz Jahrbuch. 23 (1961), 244-250~ 208 ne Tolnay, P~ 245~ 111 foreshadowing of the birth of Christ. The related theme of the Sibylline oracle is taken up in the vault decoration of the chapel, where four Sibyls float while holding scrolls prophesying the coming of the Hessiah. These prophetic pronouncements culminate in the altar panel of the chapel,

Ghirlandaio's Adoration of the Shepherds (Fig. 35).

As is well known, the general layout of the panel strikingly recalls the Portinari altarpiece of Hugo van der

Goes, then situated in Florence. Ghirlandaio borrowed the group of shepherds at the right from the Flemish painting . 209 in what might be called a "devotional quotation."

Ghirlandaio, however, has by no means copied the

Flemish painting slavishly. His most obvious departure lies in his introduction of a 'display of classical paraphernalia into a scene ~1hich clearly did not call for this. The procession of the Magi on the left passes through a triumphal arch roughly modelled on the Arch of

Titus. The roof of the hut of the Nativity is supported by classical columns and, most striking of all, an inscribed antique sarcophagus is made to serve as the manger. This sarcophagus would seem to be based on the Caffarelli

209E.g., Hartt, pp. 356-357, Fig. 385. ~ I 112 sarcophagus illustrated on folio 36 verso of the Codex 10 Escurialensis (Fig. 36)?

As Warburg observed, these classical elements, which so scandalized nineteenth-century critics, can be accounted for by the inscriptions some of them bear. Thus the inscription on the sarcophagus:

ENSE CADENS SOLYMO POMPEI FULVIUS AUGUR / NUMEN AIT QUAE r-1E CONTEGIT URNA DABIT

(the prophesy of Fulvius augur of Pompey, fallen by the sword: the tom~ ~hich holds me shall one day bring forth a god) 1

Thus the altar panel unites the two themes so far explored in the chapel decoration. The personal expression of faith in the resurrection which came to define the series of Franciscan frescoes within the chapel, culminating in the altar wall fresco of St. Francis

Reviving the Roman Notary's Son, is taken up in the augury of Fulvius on the manger. Similarly, the same pivotal inscription concludes the prophetic intimations of the birth of Christ on the exterior entrance wall.

210 oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 427.

211 T h e 1nscr1p . . t. 1ons are pseud o-ant. 1que an d certainly due to Sassetti's humanist friend, advisor and librarian, Bartolommeo Fonzio: F. Saxl, "The Classical Inscription in Renaissance Art and Politics," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 4 (1940-41), 19-46; A. c. de la Mare, "The Library of Francesco Sassetti," The Cultural Aspects of the Italian Renaissance: Essays in --­ Honor of Paul Oskar Kristeller, ed. c. Clough (New York: Manchester University Press, 1976), pp. 160-201. Trans. for all inscriptions are by the writer. 113

Warburg wrote:

Thus, from the cultic center of the chapel, from the devotional image, antiquity is assigned its typologically established place in the forecourt of the Christian universe with all the force £~ the new historical and archeological culture. 2

This "typologically established" role of antiquity in the

Sassetti Chapel may account for the relatively restricted role of cla~sical imagery in the decoration.

Aside from the Roman panorama in the Vision of

Augustus and the sarcophagus in the Adoration, two further classical motifs are important in the cycle: the triumphal arch through which the train of the Magi passes and the classical columns on which rests the hut of the Nativity.

Warburg first argued that these columns were a reference to the Roman Temple of Peace which, legend had it, collapsed at the birth of Christ. 213 This is the more probable since it has recently been convincingly suggested that the architecture of the Confirmation of the

Franciscan Rule (Fig. 31) on the altar wall is based on ouattrocento notions of the appearance of the Temple of

Peace, as seen in a drawing so inscribed and attributed to

Francesco di Giorgio. 214

212warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," p. 156.

213warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," p. 156.

214Borsook and Offerhaus, pp. 294-297 and Fig. 288; on the relationship between the Temple of Peace and the early projects for the rebuilding of st. Peter's: T. Magnuson: Studies in Roman Quattrocento Architecture (Stockholm: Alrnqvist and Wiksell, 1958), pp. 211ff. 114

The Temple of Peace was thought to have been built by Vespasian after the conquest of Jerusalem. 215 Thus this motif in the Adoration is related to the augury of Fulvius as inscribed on the manger: he supposedly died in the siege of Jerusalem. The triumphal arch at the left belongs in the same context. It too is inscribed:

GN[EIO] POMPEIO MAGNO HIRCANUS PONT[IFEX] P[OSUIT]

(The High Priest Hircanus made this in honor of the genius of great Pompey}

Evidently, John Hircanus, High Priest in Jerusalem, erected the arch in honor of Pompey and in gratitude for his not having razed the temple.

Thus the theme of peace pervades the classical imagery of the Adoration. This theme is also implicit in the prophetic scenes on the exterior of the chapel. David stands on a base recalling an antique sacrificial altar which hears the inscription: Saluti Patriae et Christianae

Gloriae EESP: "To the well-being of the patria and the glory of Christianity" etc. David, of course, was both an ancestor and prophet of the Prince of Peace. Furthermore, according to the legend of the vision of Augustus, the sign that the prophesy had come to pass would be the collapse of the Temple of Peace. 216 ~he prophetic strain in the chapel decoration is in this way further defined: It is not

215Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 294.

216Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 298. 115 merely the birth of Christ that is foretold but the 217 inauguration of an era of peace.

This concern with peace suggests that the contemporary situation in Florence might be relevant to the chapel frescoes. As noted above, in 1478 the Pazzi

Conspiracy had brought Roman-Florentine relations, already tense, to a crisis. The pope had been implicated in the plot to take the lives of Lorenzo and Giuliano de' Medici; the latter was slain while Lorenzo was wounded and repercussions continued through the following years. Peace negotiations between Rome and Florence involved the possibility of building a new Temple of Peace. As a conciliatory gesture, Sixtus IV dedicated s. M. della Pace in Rome in 1483. P.is request that the Florentines perform a s1m1. "1 ar act was 1n . va1n. . 218

Indeed, there is reason to think that Rome did not soon recover whatever aura of sanctity it had held for the

Florentines. It is curious to note that the two frescoes above the altar of the Sassetti Chapel, the Reviving of the

Roman Notary's Son and the Confirmation of the Franciscan

Rule {Figs. 30, 31) are both set in Florence rather than in

Rome as demanded by the subjects. This is, however, not

217 This strand in the iconology of the fresco cycle was first explored by Boorsook and Offerhaus and is perhaps their major contribution to Warburg's analysis. 218 Borsook and Offerhaus, pp. 297-298. 116 true of the initial fresco of St. Francis Renouncing his

Possessions which is accurately set in Genoa. 219

Thus where one would expect to find Ghirlandaio's patented Roman panoramas, one finds instead that these crucial events have been transferred to Florence. The contrast between the Florentine setting of the altar wall frescoes and the Roman setting of the corresponding scene of Augustus' vision above the chapel entrance would have 220 b een 1mme' d'1a t e 1 y perce1ve ' d • It was w1'd e 1 y b e 1'1eve d 1n '

Renaissance Florence that the city had been founded by

Romans and was destined to succeed a decadent and unworthy

Rome as the center of the world. And on the altar wall, in contrast with classical Rome, Roma nueva is represented.

Significantly, Augustus was thought to be one of the 221 founders of Florence.

Thus not only did the typological program of the

Sassetti Chapel determine and restrict the role of classical imagery in the frescoes, so did the tendentious attempt to replace Rome with Florence as the seat of a

Christian renascence.

The complex program of the fresco cycle unites sincere religious convictions, social ambitions and

9 21 Sasset t'1 spent a b out twen t y-f'1ve years 1n. Genev~ with the Medici Bank: De la Mare, p. 161; whence, prefslimably, the Genoese veduta in the fresco.

220Borsook and Offerhaus, pp. 298-299.

221Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 299. 117

concrete allusions to the Florentine political situation of 222 the time. Bassetti's piety is evident above all in

his devotion to his patron saint and his personal faith in

the resurrection. His belief in the historical role of

Christianity is expressed in the typological scheme so

prominent in the frescoes. His personal ambition is

apparent in the portraits of himself and his family among 223 the Medici and their circle. Finally, the political

thrust of the program is apparent in the imagery of peace which pervades it, and in the way in which Rome is

superseded by Florence.

This strict program, operating on so many levels, set limits on the painter's options. As in the Sistine

Chapel, visual references to antiquity serve an

iconographic function and could scarcely have been introduced at will by the artist and his assistants.

Moreover, most of them occur in the altar panel of the

Adoration which is so crucial as a point of intersection

for the diverse themes running through the chapel; and it must be assumed that this painting was conceived under the supervision of the patron and his advisers. As a result, the Sassetti frescoes are not as informative as might have

222 norsook and Offerhaus, p. 289.

223Most recent discussion: Borsook and Offerhaus, p. 320 with ills. 118

been the case in documenting the impact of Ghirlandaio's

Roman sojourn on his later art.

One crucial aspect of the chapel decoration has yet

to be discussed. A relief frieze in two segments is

located at the base of Sassetti's tomb on the right-hand

wall of the chapel. A group of putti copied from a

sarcophagus in Florence and probably representing the

Sacrifice of Eros occupies the left segment. 224 A scene

of passionate, almost violent lamentation is depicted on

the right half of the frieze. The latter has been copied

very carefully from an antique sarcophagus relief of the

Death of Meleager (Fig. 37, 38). 225

The sculptor, generally agreed to be Giuliano da

Sangallo, and the patron probably had no idea of the mythological subject of the Meleager relief~ 226 Therefore it is all the more surprising that such a scene

of pagan lamentation should have been adopted for a

Christian tomb. And the apparent incongruity is enhanced

224 Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 424. 225 F. Schottmueller, "Zwei Grabmaeler der Renaissance und ihre antiken Vorbilder," Repertorium fuer Kunstwissenschaft. 25 (1902), 401-408; Dacos, · "Ghirlandaio," p. 424; Warburq, "Francesco Sassettis," pp. 154-155.

226schottmueller, p. 408. But Alberti, On Painting, pp. 74-75, describes a Meleager relief-rn Rome which "they praise" and he stresses the emotional expressiveness of this historia. 119

by comparison with the Christian sobriety and restraint in

the fresco of the Death of St .. Francis just above the tomb

(Fig .. 32) ..

Warburg thought that the typological scheme of the

fresco cycle accounted for this pagan presence.. While

clearly a concession to the patron's mundane lifestyle and

love of classical antiquity, this imagery was yet a mere

thread in the thematic tapestry of the chapel as a whole ..

Its secondary status is suggested by its smallness in

comparison with the Franciscan frescoes above .. 227

Similarly, Warburg felt that the fresco program must hold

the key to the scenes in grisaille which Ghirlandaio

painted above the tomb.. These represent Roman military

scenes taken from coins.. Warburg saw in these a

justification all'antica of the patron's vita activa once

again.. And he thought that their relegation to the realm

of the pseudo-sculptural preventen them from intruding on 228 their Christian context (Fig .. 39) ..

This attractive hypothesis leaves critical facts

out of account.. It has been ascertained that Sassetti was

in part to blame for the sudden decline of the Medici Bank

in the 1480s. 229 The scene of lamentation on Sassetti's

227warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," pp .. 154-158.

228warburg, "Francesco Sassettis," p .. 156 .. 229 J .. -F .. Bergier, "Hurnanisrne et vie d'affaires: la bibliotheque du hanquier Francesco Sassetti," Melanges en l'honneur de Fernand Braudel .. I (Histoire economique du 120

tomb is usually thought to refer to the sense of loss which

the patron's death will occasion. It seems more likely

that the relief was meant to express Sassetti's awareness

of his personal shortcomings and unworthiness as a

Christian (he was after all a moneylender), as well as his

realization of the unstable foundation on which he had

built his life. For Sassetti to go to such lengths to

decorate a chapel as a votive offering to his patron saint

there must have been some urgent need. The notion that

this was merely the pious indulgence of a successful

businessman depends on an antiquated conception of

Renaissance art.

The grisailles Ghirlandaio painted above the tomb

of Bassetti's wife have puzzled scholars and may support

the above interpretation by the contrast they offer to

those over Bassetti's own tomb. They are also taken from

Roman coins. The scene on the left (Fig. 40) represents

Germanicus triumphant, standing on a quadriga with horses

in full gallop; that on the right shows a pair of horsemen, also in gallop, taken from a coin of Nero (Fig. 41).

Perhaps these scenes took on an eschatological dimension in their mortuary context, foreshadowing the ultimate

liberation of the deceased's soul. Certainly such imagery

monde mediteranneen 1450-1650) (Toulouse: Privat, 1973), 108-109; E. de Roever, "Francesco Sassetti and the Downfall of the Medici Banking House," Bulletin of the Business Historical Society. 17, No. 4 {October, 1943), 65-80, passim. 121 was common in antique funerary art and had such a connotation. 230 If this were found to be so, then the tombs would contain a contrast between the confident, hopeful imagery associated with the wife, and the searing lamentation over Sassetti's earthly remains.

Be that as it may, the classical imagery of the tombs and their immediate context was clearly carried out under the supervision of the patron and his adviser. And as in the balance of the chapel, this imagery is less informative about the artist and his relationship to antiquity than about the patron.

The Tornabuoni Chapel

The Sassetti Chapel, then, offers little evidence of the critical importance of Ghirlandaio's Roman sojourn for his career. Despite the crucial role of classical antiquity in the typology of the chapel decoration, only a handful of passages in the frescoes draw on classical sources: the sarcophagus and the arch in the Adoration, the

Roman panorama in the background of the Vision of Augustus and the grisailles above the tombs. More informative for this study is Ghirlandaio's second major fresco cycle of

23°F. Cumont, Recherches sur le symbolisme funeraire des remains (Paris: Geuthner, 1942), pp. 37-103. 122 the 1480s. In this fresco cycle the impact of antiquity is palpable at every turn. 231

From May 1486 to 1490, Ghirlandaio and his workshop were occupied with the decoration of the family chapel of Giovanni Tornabuoni in s. M. Novella. Tornabuoni, like Sassetti, was a banker in the employ of the Medici. 232

Although he had once served as treasurer for Sixtus IV, he would later lead the negotiating committee of Florence to

Rome after the cessation of hostilities connected with the

Pazzi Conspiracy. Unlike Sassetti, Tornabuoni had no humanist pretensions. Accordingly, there seems to be no underlying learned typology behind the decoration of his 233 family chape1. It is in fact a very traditional work, the lateral walls being painted with scenes from the life of the Virgin, on the left, and that of the Baptist on the right. Each wall features three registers with two frescoes in each. The episodes progress from left to right and upwards, culminating in a climactic scene on each wall. In this commission, there was no symbolic dimension to define the role of classical imagery in the frescoes.

231The best study: Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 428-447, 452-445; also Marchini, passim.

232on Tornabuoni: R. de Roever, The Rise and Decline of the Medici Bank, 1397-1494 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1963), pp. 194-225; E. Muentz, Les Precurseurs de la Renaissance (Paris: Rovin, 1882), pp. 248-249. 233 Full 1.'11 s.: Lau t s, F'.1.gs. 55-91. 123

Consequently, the impact of Rome on Ghirlandaio (and his workshop) is in evidence throughout the chapel.

Careful studies have shown the vast extent to which the execution of these frescoes was allotted to the master's assistants and pupils. The classical passages in the frescoes are no exception to this rule. 234 As seen above, it was Ghirlandaio's custom to make his drawings available to his workshop. Most of the classical motifs in the Tornabuoni frescoes demonstrate that he did precisely that. The same qualities that distinguish the drawings of the Codex Escurialensis from Ghirlandaio's autograph drawings appear in these frescoes. For example, motifs copied from Roman reliefs are executed with a schematic linearity and lack of vigor suggesting that the artist only 235 h a d secondh and k now 1 e d ge o f h 1s. c 1 ass1ca . 1 mo d e 1 •

Style aside, these frescoes are instructive precisely because they indicate the extent to which

Ghirlandaio's archeological approach to antiquity pervaded his workshop. Nor is it surprising: as noted above, the fact that his assistants must have worked largely on the basis of drawings by the master, renders the products of his workshop for all practical purposes his own. And his objectivity as a painter, his concern with registering the

234 March. 1n1, . pass1m. .

235nacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 453. 124

variegated elements of his visual milieu, left little room

for self-expression by assistants~

In addition to showing the survival of

Ghirlandaio's nascent style all'antica much more clearly

than the frescoes in the Sassetti Chapel, the Tornabuoni

frescoes are quite instructive in other respects~ For one

thing, they offer a case where the patron's prerogatives did not restrict the artist but fostered his own creative

contribution~ Thus this fresco cycle tells us a good deal about both the patron and the painter~ Secondly, the

Tornabuoni frescoes show that neither Ghirlandaio's aims and style as an artist nor his approach to antiquity ceased to develop after his formative years in Florence and his sojourn in Rome~ Indeed, it is primarily in this fresco cycle that such an evolution is most in evidence~ And it - will be seen that his style and his approach to antiquity henceforth evolved in tandem: Just as he had seen Rome with

Florentine eyes, so he now saw Florence in a Roman light~

It is best to begin by seeing how Ghirlandaio's archeological approach, free of the typological restraints of the Sassetti program, found expression in the Tornabuoni

Chapel~

In the architectural settings of these frescoes-- and most of them are characteristically set against such architectural backgrounds--classical motifs are numerous, highly visible and, more often than not, reflect motifs 125

found in the Codex Escurialensis. Thus in the first of the scenes from the life of the Virgin on the left wall, the

Expulsion of Joachim from the Temple (Fig. 42), a threefold reliance on classical motifs is apparent. Winged Victories in the spandrels of the central arch recall the many examples from triumphal arches which appear in the

Codex. 236 Similarly, the pilaster base with a putto carved on its face is a common type found twice in the

Codex. 237 Finally, the Florentine palace in the background features a frieze with alternating triglyphs and metopes, the latter decorated with a triton and nereid group which turns up more visibly later in the cycle, and which is also found on folio 5 verso of the Codex (Fig. 43).238

Such architectural quotations from antiquity turn up throughout the cycle. For example, in the Presentation of the Virgin the Corinthian columns of the gallery on the left are probably borrowed from a Roman building. And the arcade in the background has as its point of departure a triumphal arch, which accounts for the Victories in the spandrels. 239

The Birth of the Virgin (Fig. 44) is replete with architectural motifs all'antica. The pilaster capital

237 236 Foll. 20, 27, 46v, 47. Foll. 46 , 50v.

238oacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 428-429.

239oacos, "Ghirlandaio, pp. 434-435. 126 crowned by a putto is analogous to one drawn in the Codex

{Folio 22 recto). The putto friezes along the back and right side walls of the chamber probably reflect the two faces of a sarcophagus, but although various examples have been suggested, none corresponds exactly with the painting. Dacos suggests that despite this, rather than see the painted friezes as an imaginative variation of the artist's, it would be better to assume that it is based on a lost sarcophagus. 240 This seems likely considering that these passages were probably carried out by an assistant on the basis of Ghirlanrlaio's nesigns; and it has been shown how literally Ghirlandaio tended to copy antiquities.

Two frescoes which border on one another are very instructive. In the Baptist cycle on the right-hand wall, the Annunciation to Zacharias {Fig. 45) contains a number of classical reliefs. Of the four relief panels bordering on the central apse, the upper two are based on motifs from the Arch of Constantine, while the lower two are based on

240nacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 432. The source of these "reliefs" is discussed in J. Toynbee, The Hadrianic School: A Chapter in the History of Greek Art {Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1937), pp. 224-229, Pl. 14, Figs. 3-5; F. Matz, Ein roemisches Meisterwerk {Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archaeologischen Instituts. Supp. 19, 1958), pp. 80-116, deals with the genre. 127 coins. The lower right panel is based on a scene not unlike that above Sassetti's tomb (Fig. 39). 241

The two panels on the left side of the fresco are continued by two panels on the right of the Visitation

(Fig. 46). The upper "reliefs" are borrowed, again, from the Arch of Constantine. The lower panels are based on the sarcophagus relief with tritons and nereids less obviously included in the Expulsion of Joachim from the Temple

(Fig. 42). The sarcophagus is copied in its entirety on folio 5 verso of the Codex Escurialensis, as noted 242 above.

Thus the decorative use of classical motifs in architectural contexts is widespread in the chapel. The antique sources drawn from are usually adapted selectively and often are abridged or combined in "mosaic" . 243 f as h_1on. This is clearly due to considerations of space and setting. Rarely could a classical relief be reproduced in its entirety, unlike decorative capitals and pilaster bases. The two friezes from the Birth of the

Virgin (Fig. 44) seem to be exceptional in this respect, and this may be due to special circumstances. For as the preparatory drawings for the fresco make clear, these

241nacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 441-442.

242oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 442.

243 Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 455. 128 friezes were added subsequent to the original design of the 244 fresco. At some point the unknown sarcophagus relief was inserted and, perhaps because of lack of time, simply copied.

The majority of borrowings from the antique in the frescoes are of this variety, that is, imitation reliefs which function as architectural decoration in the various scenes. As shown in Chapter 1, one of the salient features of Ghirlandaio's early style was his mastery of architectural stage-settings. In his early works architectural backgrounds served a twofold function: They provided a visually convincing three dimensional "space" for his figures, and they frequently provided an illusionistic counterpart to the real architecture encompassing the paintings. Thus Ghirlandaio, early in his career, followed the example of Masaccio and made use of architectural illusionism. As did Masaccio in his Trinity, also in s. M. Novella, Ghirlandaio used his patented architectural settings to lend a specious "reality" to his painted scenes by blurring the distinction between real and pa1nte. d arch' 1tec t ure. 245

244oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 454. 245 Rosenauer, "Zum Stil," pp. 69-78. While, as Rosenauer shows, this interest in illusionism had roots in Ghirlandaio's pre-Sistine works, it seemed best to postpone discussion of the matter to this point. The text will show why. 129

This reliance on decorative architectural settings as illusionistic devices is still to be seen in the grisailles which are such a striking feature of the

Tornabuoni frescoes. Nor does this connection come as a surprise: Since Giotto's allegorical figures of the Virtues and Vices in the Arena Chapel, the grisaille technique had been available as a means of creating an illusionistic continuity between painting and reality. 246 In

Ghirlandaio's frescoes painted architecture and simulated sculpture are harnessed to the same end.

Ghirlandaio's brand of illusionism evolved in the course of his career. Despite his youthful interest in and cultivation of perspective effects, at no time did

Ghirlandaio sacrifice the basic planarity of his style to illusionism of the Baroque variety. Throughout his works it is the bonds between the picture plane and the wall surface that are made to engender the illusionistic effects. And this emphasis on "surfaces" overshadows all perspective effects in Ghirlandaio's later works. 247

As suggested above, Ghirlandaio's reliance on decorative architectural settings in his paintings went a long w·ay in determining the types of antigui ties which

246Rosenauer, "Zum Stil," p. 70; s. SandstrOm, Levels of Unreality: Studies in Structure and Construction in Italian Mural Painting During the Renaissance (Figura. N.S. 4, 1963), p. 22. 247 Rosenauer, "Zum Stil," pp. 78, 83. 130

appealed to him. This may account for the high incidence

of architectural elements, reliefs and architectural

panoramas in the Codex Escurialensis. It also sheds light

on the painter's enthusiasm for the decorative ensembles of

the Golden House of Nero.

The likelihood is that this regard for classical

decorative styles had a reciprocal influence on

Ghirlandaio's method of illusionism after his sojourn in

Rome, and accounts for the increasing emphasis in

Ghirlandaio's paintings on surface planarity. For the

grisailles all'antica in the Tornabuoni frescoes are,

almost without exception, parallel to the picture plane.

The sole exception once again seems to be the Birth of the

Virgin (Fig. 44), the right-hand segment of which recedes

along the wall of the chamber. And once again the unanticipated insertion of this highly visible relief is perhaps the explanation. Moreover, despite its presence, the right-hand segment of the frieze, which recedes so

sharply, is clearly overshadowed by the segment on the back wall of the chamber which is parallel to the picture plane. Furthermore, the fresco of the Birth of the Virgin is the only painting in Ghirlandaio's entire oeuvre in which he incorporates grotesques based on those of the

Goloen House of Nero. These too are situated on the back wall of the chamber and underscore the planarity of the composition. 131

The wainscoting of the chamber wall is divided into three panels separated by decorative pilasters crowned by

Corinthian capitals. The decoration of the pilasters consists of grotesques; so does that of the panels. The left-hand panel, which bears the painter's family name framed by grotesques, draws on motifs which can be found in the Codex Escurialensis. The foliated volutes at the top of the panel, for example, are based on those drawn on folio 32 recto of the sketchbook (Fig. 47). The play of lines in the lower rinceaux echoes that of folio 13 recto in the Codex (Fig. 48), and the hanging garlands of beads are found in the second frieze on the shame sheet.

Finally, the motif beneath the artist's name is simplified from the similar configuration on folio 32 {Fig~ 47).

The central panel is constructed of motifs found on folio 58 recto of the Codex, as a glance at both readily reveals (Fig. 49). In the third panel, which bears the painter's nickname enframed at the top, the diminutive sphinx which also turns up on the first panel dominates the decoration. It is also found at the right-hand side of folio 13 of the sketchbook (Fig. 48).

This essay in decoration alle grotesche is remarkable in that, despite Ghirlandaio's evident enthusiasm for this type of decoration, it is his sole 132

248 experiment in this vein. Also remarkable is the fact that, in copying these decorative motifs, Ghirlandaio has not adopted the polychromy of his models. The very name of the Golden House of Nero is descriptive of this aspect of the decorative cycles it contained. And in spite of the effects of time and the elements on these monuments, the colorism of the "grottoes" must have been apparent upon their discovery, as is evident from the names given to the vaults of the Golden House in the Codex, such as the volta dorata or "golden vault." 249

On the basis of these labels, Dacos has suggested that it was the polychromy of the subterranean grottoes which most impressed Ghirlandaio and the other artists who first encountered them. Thus the absence of color in the grotesques in Ghirlandaio's fresco seemed to her to require explanation. 250 Rut there is no evidence that these names were more than mere labels which identified the different chambers among the ruins. To he sure, these ensembles must have impressed artists whose knowledge of classical art was based on reliefs and marble statues. For the first time, outside the minor arts at least, something

248 nacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 430-432, discusses the grotesques in the Birth of the Virgin. 249 Fol. 10, for example.

250nacos, La Decouverte, p. 54; "Ghirlandaio," p. 432. 133 of the splendor of antique decoration could be realized.

But Ghirlandaio, a Florentine, displayed comparatively little interest in color, light and surface effects.

In view of Ghirlandaio's use of monochromatic reliefs as architectural decoration throughout the

Tornabuoni Chapel, the lack of color in his grotesques really seems to require no further explanation. Moreover, as with the simulated reliefs, the panels decorated with grotesques reinforce the planarity of the fresco. The qrisailles, like the grotesques, are made to strengthen the bond between the pictorial reality and its encompassing architectural reality.

Thus the historical importance of these painted grotesques as the first of their kind in Renaissance painting is matched by their importance in Ghirlandaio's artistic evolution. For along with the grisailles, these motifs bear witness to the effect of Ghirlandaio's Roman sojourn on his style as a painter. Just as his stylistic approach helped to define his response to antiquity, so his encounter with antiquity seems to have influenced the course of his further stylistic development. The peculiar characteristics of his mature brand of illusionistic painting, despite their roots in his early style, reflect his direct encounter with classical antiquity.

Not all of the classical elements in the Tornabuoni frescoes are consigned to the realm of the monochromatic. 134

In the Preaching of John the Baptist, for example, there is a nude putto at the foot of the rock upon which the Baptist stands (Fig. 50). This putto is faithfully copied from a

Hellenistic statue of which two versions may be found in the Uffizi, and which are traceable to their sixteenth-century residence in the Pitti Palace (Fig. 51).251

Two nudes also appear in the Baptism of Christ

(Fig. 52). The one standing at the left is inspired by a statue of the type of Lysippus' Apoxyornenos, while the nude stooping at the right is based on a statue recently discovered in Rome: the Scythian executioner from a Marsyas 252 group (Fig. 53).

Another nude appears on the right side of the

Presentation of the Virgin and seems to he based on an antique prototype as well: the Belvedere Torso, of which a 253 drawing by Davide Ghirlandaio exists (Figs. 54-56).

According to vasari it "gave great satisfaction then, because such things were not common." 254 Perhaps Vasari

251nacos, "Ghirlandaio," o. 447~ G. Mansuelli, Le Gallerie degli Uffizi (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico dello-­ Stato, 1958-61), I, 91-92~ nos. 59-60~ Figs. 61a-b. 252nacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 447~ Marchini, p. 325. 253nacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 435~ B. Berenson, Drawings of the Florentine Painters (2d ed.~ Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1938), I, 86. 254vasari-Milanesi, III,264 (Hinds trans. p. 73). 135

meant that "such things were not common" in the

conservative milieu where Ghirlandaio found the greater

part of his clientele. It is certainly interesting to find

Ghirlandaio repeatedly invoking the aid of classical

statues in these studies of the naked human form. For

. apart from his mastery of portraiture, Ghirlandaio's figure

style had always heen undistinguishea. 255

The scarcity of explicit narrative in Ghirlandaio's

early works seems to have owed something to his tendency to

isolate his figures from their context. 256 The same

tendency also facilitated the inclusion of contemporary

portraits in his frescoes, even as it allowed for the

exploration of human anatomy. Significantly, however, it

was not until after his Roman sojourn, and under the

influence of antique sculpture, that Ghirlandaio undertook

experiments in the depiction of the nude. Thus a second

new element in the art of Ghirlandaio clearly reflects the

impact of his experience of Roman antiquities. The same

seems to be true of a third and final new ingredient in

Ghirlandaio's style.

255Rosenauer, "Zum Stil," pp. 62-66, 79. Of ~curse, in approaching anatomical studies via antique statuary Ghirlandaio was following standard Quattrocento practice; B. Degenhart and A. Schmitt, Corpus der italienischen Zeichnungen, 1300-1450, I, No. 1 (Berlin: Mann, 1968), xxxi.

256Rosenauer, "Zum Stil,"pp. 79-83. p '

136

In the fresco of the Birth of the Baptist (Fig. 57)

there enters from the right a maiden, bearing upon her head a plate of fruit. She introduces a note of vivacity and energy into the otherwise sober and staid scene--and into

Ghirlandaio's otherwise sober and staid style. This animated figure in billowing, fluttering draperies, which

so fascinated Warburg, invites comparison with a similar 257 figure on folio 51 verso of the Codex (Fig. 58). And while neither of these is necessarily based directly upon an antique source, the figure in the sketchbook plainly suggests that both were conceived in an antiquarian spirit. For otherwise the presence of the motif in a sketchbook devoted to antiquities would be inexplicable.

Besides, these figures are intimately connected to a whole series of such female figures in swift and graceful motion in Quattrocento art; a study of these renders it certain 258 that they were seen as maidens all'antica.

Like Ghirlandaio's exercises in human anatomy in the Tornabuoni frescoes, this essay in the depiction of rapid yet fluid motion occurred under the tutelage of antiquity. Both of these elements in the fresco cycle represent a new development in Ghirlandaio's art and show

257warburg, Ges. Schr., Index s. v. Antike, Bewegungsmotive, Nympha, Tracht all'antica; Gombrich, Aby Warburg, pp. 105-127.

258Appendix A below. 137

that his experience of antiquity, far from curbing his

imagination or engendering a stultifying classicism,

spurred him on to new stylistic experiments.

Still, Vasari's earlier remark is haunting. For

while it may be true that "such things" as Ghirlandaio's

nudes and this animated figure were "not common" when the

Tornabuoni Chapel was painted, at least in that

conservative milieu, in both cases Ghirlandaio followed in

the footsteps of other Quattrocento painters. However

important a departure these figures may be in Ghirlandaio's

development, they are neither adventurous nor remarkable within the mainstream of Quattrocento painting. This

reinforces what is apparent at every turn in Ghirlandaio's career, that is, that he was steadfastly traditional and conservative. However unique and irreducible his personal response to classical antiquity may have been, there is no denying that this response found expression in areas 259 already explored by his predecessors.

This, however, seems to be true only of those

instances in which the classical elements in the chapel are not confined to the grisaille technique. The simulated sculptural reliefs and grotesques are another matter. With these motifs Ghirlannaio displays considerable independence and originality.

259 nacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 452-453. 138

The classical imagery in the Tornabuoni Chapel

seems also to suggest both the patron's enthusiasm for

ancient Rome and his conservative regard for tradition~

For on a different level Tornabuoni shared these traits

with Ghirlandaio, as is suggested above all by the nudes

and the animated maiden in the frescoes, the same motifs,

that is, which reveal the conservative side of Ghirlandaio~

Vasari's remark about the nude in the Presentation

of the Virgin (Fig~ 54) may be informative regarding the

social background of the frescoes~ In saying that such nudes were uncommon at the time, Vasari implied not only that they were unusual in that conservative milieu, but

also that they were uncommon in religious contexts which did not call for nudity~ The two nudes in Ghirlandaio's

Baptism of Christ call for no explanation: the subject was their justification~ But the nude in the Presentation seems foreign to his surroundings and alien to the theme of the painting~

This nude invites comparison with the seminude figure in the Sistine Chapel fresco of the Last Acts of

Moses (Fig~ 20), which is equally alien to its context~ 260 Giovanni Tornabuoni spent most of his adult

life in Rome, first in the employ of Sixtus IV and for thirty years as a Medici agent~ Perhaps the Sistine

260 Above, at n~ 109~ 139

precedent for the nude in the Presentation was a pretext

for its inclusion. At the same time, its antique

inspiration may have warranted its inclusion in a fresco

cycle pervaded by classical imagery.

Similarly, the incorporation of such a strikingly

classicizing figure as the maiden rushing into the chamber

of the Birth of the Baptist (Fig. 57) may reflect the

social mores of the patron's circle. As with so many

analogous figures in Quattrocento painting, this energetic

figure is cast as a serving maid. Perhaps the moral and

behavioral "gravity" which seem to oppress, or at least to

characterize, the contemporary figures in these frescoes, was not insisted upon for a member of a lower social 261 stratum. It is a matter of decorum.

Evidently, in this case as well as that of the nudes,

pretexts for the introduction of motifs recalling antiquity were required. If so, then the patron's conservatism in

connection with classical imagery offers a striking parallel to Ghirlandaio's traditionalism in the use of

classical motifs. But neither Ghirlandaio's conservatism

not his patron's caution belie the fact that they did in

fact share an enthusiasm for antiquity. As in

Ghirlandaio's case, so in Tornabuoni's, this is most

261 Gom b r1c . h , A b y war b urg, p. 312 • 140

evident in the decorative architectural setting which runs

through the frescoes.

Dacos has observed that each of the frescoes which

contains grisailles with antique imagery also includes at

least one portrait of a member of the Tornabuoni

f am1. 1 y. 262 Among these scenes are the Annunciation to

Zacharias (Fig, 45) (Giovanni Tornabuoni himself, to the

left of the angel); the Birth of the Virgin (Fig. 44)

(Ludovica, Giovanni's daughter, approaching the bed of St.

Anne); and the Expulsion of Joachim from the Temple ·(Fig.

42) (Lorenzo, Ludovica's brother). Most instructive, however, is the fact that the "reliefs" which overlap the

frescoes of the Annunciation to Zacharias (Fig. 45) and the

Visitation (Fig. 46) were, as preparatory drawings reveal, added as an afterthought. This last-minute addition seems to have been required by the unanticipated inclusion of a portrait of Giovanna degli Albizzi, Lorenzo Tornabuoni's 263 wife, in the scene of the Visitation.

The underlying intention behind the use of simulated reliefs all'antica was thus, for the patron, to "paint each of the Tornabuoni against a background of Roman reliefs." 264 Although the contract for this commission,

262 nacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 454. 263 oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 454; above, at n. 244 ..

264oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 454 .. 141 which has been preserved, does not make this stipulation, it is nonetheless very probable that this was Tornabuoni's 265 intent. As noted above, Giovanni Tornabuoni did not share Francesco Sassetti's enthusiasm for archeology and letters: he had no humanist pretensions. But as Dacos says, Ghirlandaio, "in evoking antique marbles" in the grisailles which form a backdrop for the members of the

Tornabuoni family, "not only gave free course to his personal enthusiasm for antique art" but at the same time

"recalled the brilliant career of his patron." 266

265nacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 454-455.

266nacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 455. Chapter 5

BOTTICELLI AND THE IMPACT OF ROME

Continuity and Discontinuity

To judge on the basis of his Roman works,

Botticelli's nascent Roman style all'antica accords well with the influential theory of Aby Warburg, who argued that what the Quattrocento sought in antiquity was above all formulas for the expression of passion, movement and pathos. The evidence suggests that this is true of 267 Botticelli's initial response to Rome.

Horne was of the opinion that Botticelli's genius reached its full maturity at the time of his Sistine 268 sojourn, and Ettlinger and Clark concur. In view of

267warburg first used the influential phrase "pathos formula" in a paper of 1905 on "Duerer und die italienische Antike," in Ges. Schr., II, 443-449. The germ of the notion may be found in Jacob Burckhardt: "Wherever pathos made an appearance, it had to occur in [antique] form," Die Kultur der Renaissance in Italien (1860; rpt. Vienna: Phaidon, n.d.), p. 105. Warburg's concept is discussed in Gombrich, Aby Warburg, pp. 177-185.

268Horne, p. 102; Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 64; Clark, n. 329 below.

142 143 this it is astonishing how little attention has been paid to this period in Botticelli's career. Nor has the impact of this crucial time on the painter's later approach to classical themes and imagery figured at all prominently in the voluminous literature on Botticelli.

There are several reasons for this state of affairs. Any discussion of classical visual sources in the works of a Renaissance artist faces serious obstacles.

Krautheimer, in an exemplary discussion of Ghiberti and the 269 antique, has listed some of these obstacles. The disappearance of countless monuments still extant in the

Renaissance must be taken into account. The stereotypical nature of much classical art makes it difficult to be certain whether a specific monument was known and used by a specific artist. This is particularly true with sarcophagus reliefs. Furthermore, for the greater part of the fifteenth century artists rarely quoted specific antiquities verbatim. As with the small boy in

Botticelli's sacrificial scene in the Sistine Chapel, a given figure may have obvious classical roots without revealing its particular source. Finally, as Vermeule has argued, the number of antiquities known to Renaissance

269R. Krautheimer and T. Krautheimer-Hess, Lorenzo Ghiberti (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956), pp. 337-339. 144

artists may have been much larger than is usually 270 thought ..

In Botticelli's case still other reasons exist for

the neglect of this aspect of his art.. For one thing,

Botticelli's style is still labelled "Gothic" on occasion,

and this has long been the consensus.. While the idea of a

"Quattrocento Gothic" is no longer taken seriously by

scholars, the notion that Botticelli's fluid, linear style

is somehow incompatible with antique influences is more 271 tenacious .. The vogue enjoyed by Botticelli's

"mythologies" is also a contributing factor.. Since the

Victorian revival of Botticelli, such works as the

Primavera and Birth of Venus have cast a shadow over most discussions of Botticelli's style; and despite their antique themes these are among the most "gothic" of

Botticelli's works.. (Figs .. 63, 69)

Since Warburg's pioneering dissertation on these two paintings, countless attempts have been made by

scholars to identify the classical and post-classical 272 l 1't erary t ex t s wh' lC. h m1g . ht accoun t f or th e1r. lmagery . ..

270 c .. Vermeule, European Art and the Classical Past (Cambridge, Mass .. : Harvard University Press, 1969), p. ~ 271 A. Chastel, Studios and Styles of the Italian Renaissance (New York: Odyssey, 1966), pp. 197, 265, doubts the usefulness of the term "Gothic" as applied to the second half of the Quattrocento. 272 warburg, "Sandro Botticellis"; c. Dempsey, "Mercurius Ver: The Sources of Botticelli's Primavera," 145

The sufficiency of such a philological approach has been questioned along with the premises on which it rests. 273

For that matter, Warburg himself did not advocate or

practice such an exclusively literary approach to

Renaissance painting in general, or Botticelli's mythologies in particular. And his suggestions regarding antique visual sources for Botticelli's imagery have rarely b een f o 11 owed up or 1mprove. d upon. 274

The question of the chronology of the mythologies is crucial. Until the recent publication of two inventories of the collections of the younger branch of the

Medici, it was generally assumed that the Primavera antedated Botticelli's Roman sojourn. The evidence of the

·inventories implies a post-Roman date for the Primavera, and suggests strongly that it was not painted for the country villa of Botticelli's patron, Lorenzo di

Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 31 (1968), 251-273, is the most recent and one of the fullest studies along these lines. 273 w. Welliver, "The Meaning and Purpose of Botticelli's Court of Venus and Mars and Venus," Art Quarterly. 33, No. 4 (1970), 347-359, seeks to revive the romantic interpretation of these works in a new form and succeeds in reaffirming that E. H. C~mbrich sounded the death-knell of such an approach in 1945: "Botticelli's Mythologies: A Study in the Nee-Platonic Symbolism of his Circle," rpt. in Symbolic Images (London: Phaidon, 1972), which also provides a survey of interpretations.

274Below, Section 2 of this Chapter. 146

Pierfrancesco de' Medici, but for the Medici Palace in

Florence. 275

While an investigation of the influence of classical visual sources in Botticelli's post-Sistine works faces difficulties, it is essential to an understanding of the artist's development. For among Botticelli's works executed after his Roman sojourn, not only the mythologies but several other paintings involve antique themes and imagery. Of these, some clearly show classical influence.

This is true of works done soon after his return from Rome as \'lell as of works from Botticelli's last years. Some of these works reflect well-known monuments of Rome, while others display the same selective preference for the more expressive facets of ancient art which Botticelli's Roman paintings showed. As was the case with the works he executed in Rome, these works place both background elements and expressive figural and drapery motifs in the service of dramatic narrative.

In 1482 or 1483 Antonio Pucci commissioned from the

Botticelli workshop four panels to be inset in the wainscoting of the marriage chamber of his son. These

27 5 w. Smith, "On the Original J.. ocation of the Primavera," The Art Bulletin. 57 (March, 1975), 31-40; J. Shearman, "The Collections of the Younger Branch of the Medici," The Burlington Magazine. 117, No. 1 (January, 1975), 12-27. This evidence accepted by Lightbown, I, 72-73, and Hartt, p. 331, both of whom make the Primavera postdate Botticelli's Roman sojourn. 147

spalliere panels depict scenes from the Boccaccian story of

Nostagio degli Onesti, from the Decameron. It is a didactic story full of violence and drama (Figs. 59 a-d).

In the fourth of the panels, a wedding banquet in celebration of the tale's happy ending, the triumphal arch decorated with Corinthian columns, bas-reliefs and statues

is modelled on antique Roman arches. 276 While the arch behind the foreground loggia is not literally an imitation of a specific monument, it does probably reflect a ricordo from Botticelli's Roman sojourn.

Similar echoes of Botticelli's Roman stay occur in two other panels, also intended for domestic furniture, hut larger in scale. The chronology of these panels is debated. Ettlinger dates them to the early 1480s; most scholars put them closer to 1500. 277 The panels depict two episodes from the early history of Rome and, like the tale from Boccaccio, are meant to point a moral. The

Story of Lucretia includes a triumphal arch which recalls the Arch of Constantine in its outlines, but which is decorated with reliefs containing moralizing exempla from

Roman history (Fig. 60). The Story of Virginia features an imposing pseudo-classical setting (Fig. 61), in which the

276 Horne, p. 133.

277R. Salvini, All the Paintings of Botticelli (New York: Hawthorn Books, n.d.), IV, 164; Lightbown, I, 141; II, 101-106; Ettlinger's date: Botticelli, p. 118. 148 architecture is provided with sculptural decoration in the form of ornamental pilasters. These have capitals featuring "grotesques" on their faces, not unlike those found in the Codex Escurialensis and in some of

Ghirlandaio's paintings. Grotesques of this sort are also found in Botticelli's San Zenobio panels, perhaps the last of Botticelli's works known to us (Figs. 62 a, b). 278

Some if not all of these panels are the work of pupils based on Botticelli's designs. 279 Even so, they indicate the ongoing influence of the master's Roman sojourn. Reminiscences of Rome were ~till present at the end of Botticelli's career. The likelihood that pupils worked extensively on these panels suggests that the influence of Rome was institutionalized in the Botticelli workshop.

These panels represent an important branch of

Renaissance art. For in the mid-fifteenth century, classical history and legend were for the most part the province of painters and workshops specializing in 280 decorative panels for furniture. Gornbrich has

278 Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 105.

279 Surveys o f op2n2on . . 2n . Lightbown, II, 50-51 (Nostagio panels), 105 (Lucretia and Virginia panels), 110-111 (St. Zenobio panels).

280Ettlinger, Botticelli, pp. 112-113; Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni," passim; J. Mesnil, "The Artistic Education of Botticelli," The Burlington Hagazine. 87, No. 463 (1941) 118-123 briefly shows that Botticelli himself worked on cassoni. 149 remarked, regarding one of the most important Florentine cassone workshops, that its products frequently contain panoramas of Rome which display a notable interest in the classical landmarks of the city. He further observes that the master of the shop, Apollonio di Giovanni (d. 1465), occasionally improvised reliefs all'antica, when called 281 for, and cites the painter's Caesar pane1.

Botticelli appears to have been linked by personal or professional ties to the workshop of Apollonio, whose business partner, Marco del Buono, witnessed the signing of the contract for Botticelli's Annunciation for the Church of s. Martino on the eve of Botticelli's departure for Rome. 282 Gombrich suggests that mythological painting on a monumental scale may derive from the classicizing genre of furniture paintings and specifically from the work of . 283 Apo 11 onJ.o.

Workshops specializing in these decorative panels often produced them in such quantity that standardization was inevitable; the stock figures employed recall manikins in comparison with the achievements of Quattrocento masters. Such stereotypes of gesture and pose pervade even 2 8 4 Apo 11 onJ.o. ' s exceptJ.ona. 1 wor k s, and d espJ. . t e th e

281Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni," p. 19, Fig. 41. 282 Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni," p. 25. 283 Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni," p. 16.

284Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni," pp. 18-19. ' ' 150

elaborate and believable classical settings that surround

them, his figures are entirely unclassical in 285 appearance.

Botticelli's panels provide a striking contrast.

While they do exhibit repetitive figures and formulaic

poses and gestures, puppet-like characters are rare. This

is largely due to his use of classical elements of dress and his borrowing of motifs from Roman reliefs. In the

Nostagio panels, for example, the onrushing rider in profile, his cape billowing out in a half-circle behind him, is repeated twice with only slight variation (Figs. 59 a, c). This drapery motif is ubiquitous on Roman battle

reliefs and had been used in Rotticelli's Sistine frescoes

(Fig. 17). There too the motif powerfully conveys a sense of motion, in this case falling. The same motif recurs in the Story of Lucretia in the central figure of Brutus

inciting the Romans to vengeance (Fig. 60). These figures have an antique flavor unlike anything in Apollonio's repertory. Nor do they stand alone. These panels not only contain a profusion of classicizing architectural and sculptural motifs, they are also pervaded by a sense of drama and human passion. Prime

285Gombrich, "Apollonio di Giovanni," p. 19; this discussion occasioned E. Panofsky's discussion of antique figure style in the Quattrocento in Renaissance and Renascences in Western Art (1961; rpt. New York: Harper and Row, 1972), pp. 168-177. 151

vehicles in achieving this sense of drama are figure types

and drapery motifs minted in antiquity.

These minor works range in date from just after

Botticelli's Roman sojourn to his last years, and

demonstrate considerable continuity with his nascent Roman

style. They raise the question whether or not the artist's

better-known works involving antique themes and imagery

display the same continuity. This question is all the more

appropriate considering that these narrative panels, like

Botticelli's large mythological paintings, have roots in

the decorative genre represented by Apollonio di Giovanni.

Botticelli's Mythologies and the Antique

Despite the scant attention paid to the problem of

antique visual sources for the imagery of Botticelli's mythologies, a recent effort has been made by Olson to

examine the evidence in detail. She has collected a

sizable body of material and makes some keen observations.

The spadework having been initiated, Botticelli's mythologies can now be surveyed from the perspective of

t h e1r. re 1 at1on . t o ant1qu1 . . t y. 286

As mentioned, the recent publication of the 1499 and 1503 inventories of the collections of the younger

286R. Olson, Studies in the Later Works of Sandre Botticelli (PhD Dissertation, Princeton University, 1975), pp. 168-282. 152

branch of the Medici has altered the understanding of the

Primavera, the earliest of the mythologies, and its

commission. The accepted opinion has been that it dates to the late 1470s and was initially intended for the country villa of Botticelli's patron, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de'

Hedici, at Castello. While it was indeed seen at Castello in the mid-sixteenth century by Vasari, along with the

Birth of Venus and Pallas and the Centaur, the inventories make no reference, however slight, to such works among the holdings at Castello. Rut they do suggest that the

Primavera, as well as Pallas and the Centaur, was at the turn of the century anong the collection in the urban house of Lorenzino on the then Via Largo, not far from the Medici palace. Thus the notion that the Primvera (Fig. 63) was meant to be part of the decoration of the villa at Castello upon its completion in 1477 is no longer acceptable; and consequently, the traditional pre-Sistine date for the painting is also out of favor. The current consensus is that it was done ca. 1482-83, soon after Botticelli's 287 return to Florence.

For this reason it comes as a surprise that the

Primavera offers exceedingly little evidence that its creator had just had his first exposure to Rome and its monuments. To be sure, the subject of the painting is,

287Above, n. 275. 153 however controversial, clearly classical. The work is so faMiliar that a brief overview will suffice to recall its main features.

Slightly to the right of center stage is a lissome

Venus in diaphanous drapery. A backdrop of orange trees abruptly blocks the view, confining the scene to an uncommonly narrow strip of grass and flower-strewn foreground. Forward slightly and to the left of Venus there dance in a roundel the three Graces, also in diaphanous drapery. At the extreme left Mercury stands idly despatching a patch of cloud in the branches overhead with his caduceus. Heanwhile at the right a nymph, usually identified as Flora, strides elegantly forward scattering flowers while behind her another comely nymph, Chloris, is pursued by Zephyr the wind-god. Finally, Cupid aims a dart at the foremost of the Graces as he hovers in the treetops.

Ettlinger has said that, in the Primavera, "there is not a single figure which derives directly from a classical model," and this would seem to be the case, as a 288 rev~ew' o f t h e ev~'d ence s h ows. Horne was o f th e opinion that the figure of Cupid enjoyed a classical 289 ped ~gree,. un l'k~ e t h e o th er f'~gures ~n. th. e pa~n. t'~ng.

Similarly, Vermeule writes that this is "the most literally

288Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 119. 289 Horne, p. 57. 154 classical figure in all of Botticelli's works" and that it is derived from an Endymion sarcophagus fragment from the

Villa Medici in R.ome (Fig .. 65) .. 290 Olson, while suggesting two alternative sources from sarcophagi, makes the crucial observation that, in the Primavera, the painter's "borrowings from classical antiquity" are derived

"from types rather than specific monuments .. " She thinks the Cupid may be an exception to this "rule," but an alternative source for the figure will be offered 291 b e 1 ow .. For the rest, Botticelli's Cupid is armed and blindfolded and thus scarcely a classical quotation ..

It has never been claimed that Venus is based on a classical prototype, and Olson remarks that Mercury "is classical in name only .. " 292 Of the nymph pursued at the right by Zephyr, Olson observes that she bears a "remote resemblance" to figures of Medea in flight on sarcophagi, 293 which is the most that can be said .. As for the

Graces, it has long been realized that they owe more to literary descriptions (Seneca and Alberti) and to

Ghiberti's maidens from his Baptistery doors, than to

290 Verrneule, p .. 42 .. 291 olson, Studies, p .. 178 ..

292olson, Studies, p .. 174 ..

29301 son, Studies, p .. 176 .. 155

c 1 ass1ca. 1 v1sua . 1 sources. 294 Thus the famous Siena group

(Fig. 66) features nude Graces, static and symmetrical in arrangement.

Warburg, finally, suggested long ago that the

figure gathering flowers in the right foreground was

fashioned after a Roman statue of Pomona similar to that in 295 the Uffizi (Fig. 67). Although Olson accepts this 296 derivation, the statue has a static solidity quite

unlike Botticelli's ethereal figure. Still, while such a

connection may well hold, 297 the precise nature of the

influence remains problematic in view of Olson's judgement

that, in the Primavera, Botticelli drew on his knowledge of

various antique "types" rather than "specific monuments."

This claim must be analyzed, for the issues involved are fundamental to any assessment of the relationship of the

painting to the art of antiquity.

It is a commonplace that Quattrocento artists often

294E. g., Warburg, "Sandre Botticellis," pp. 27-28; Seneca, De beneficiis i.3 after Chrysippos, probably contributed indirectly to Botticelli's Graces via Alberti. While Wind, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (2d ed.; New York: Norton, 1968), p. 32, writes that Alberti recommended Seneca's text to the "attention of painter," the fact is that on pp. 96-97 he describes the Graces on the basis of Seneca without naming him. On the literary sources of Botticelli's group, below, Appendixes B and C; Ghiberti's maidens: below, Appendix A and Fig. 84.

295warburg, "Sandre Botticellis," p. 35.

296olson, Studies, p. 176.

297Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," p. 63. 156 sought selected elements of style in classical art: and, as seen, Botticelli is a case in point. Both in his Roman works and in the panels discussed in the previous section

Botticelli assimilated stylistic features of antique art compatible with and conducive to dramatic expression.

Botticelli, of course, was one of the artists Warburg had in mind when he suggested the classical origins of the

Quattrocento passion for such "animated accessories" as 298 windblown tresses and drapery. Warburg extended this dimension of classical influence to embrace figural stereotypes as well, for example the "pathos formulas" so common in antique representations of extreme emotional states and, as a matter of fact, often adopted in the . 299 Rena1ssance. It is likely that Warburg overstated the case for classical influence in the Quattrocento infatuation with 300 ornamental figural flourishes. And it seems that

Olson similarly overstates the case for classical influence on the figures of the Primavera--and for much the same reason. Warburg never considered the possible influence of post-classical stylistic trends on Quattrocento taste, and

298 Beweg t es Be1wer ' k : War b urg, "S and ro Botticellis," passim.

299Gombrich, Aby Warburg, pp. 177-185; above, at n. 267. 300 Gom b r1c, . h , A b y War b urg, pp. 307 - 324 • 157

Olson neglects the fact that "types" of the sort she sought

in antiquity were available to Botticelli closer to home.

Thus the motif of the flower-gathering maiden, whatever her relation to Pomona, may insteao or in addition be a younger sister of Filippo Lippi's and Gozzoli's flower-scattering 301 angels (Fig. 68). And a medieval source for the figure of Cupid will be offereo below.

At this point a methodological issue arises. Is there justification for seeking classical sources for visual motifs in Renaissance art when nearer solutions are availahle, particularly in the absence of specific, convincing classical models? In the case of the Primavera, where most of the figures, Venus prominent among them, are by common consent entirely unclassical in character and inspiration, this question is all the more critical. Thus

Ettlinger's verdict may stand: No figure in the Primavera can be traced with any certainty to an antique model.

To Olson, Botticelli's Birth of Venus (Fig. 69) d oes s h ow t h e 1mpact. o f h.1s Roman SOJourn.. 302 Th e painting probably dates from the mid-1480s. Its subject is not literally the birth of Venus, but her initial arrival on shore after her birth at sea. Classically nude, her hair flowing in the breeze which wafts her ashore, Venus

301Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," p. 63.

302olson, Studies, p. 190. 158 stands lightly and gracefully on her half-shell. She is received onshore by an Hour who awaits her with a wrap to clothe her nudity. In the upper left two personified wind-gods float entwined, their hair and drapery billowing in their wake. There is no doubt that Olson is right on one point: The figure of Venus, in spite of her rather

"Gothic" proportions and ethereal bearing, reflects antique influence. She is a Venus pudica not unlike the Medici

Venus, examples of which had been known in Florence for at 303 least a century (Fig. 70). Lawrence has gathered a number of antique representations of the Birth of Venus in various media, and while none of these furnishes an exact prototype, it seems quite likely that Botticelli had access to a version or created his own variation on a model not unlike, say, the gem in Berlin which Lawrence reproduces 304 (Fig. 71).

By contrast, the other figures in the painting reflect above all Botticelli's own figure types, particularly some which occur in his Sistine frescoes.

Olson thinks that the position of the Hour's arms was influenced by similar figures on sea sarcophagi, but concedes that "in type she is closer to the woman at the

303 olson, Studies, p. 192.

304M. T... awrence, "The Birth of Venus in Roman Art," Essays in the History of Art Presented to Rudolf Wittkower, ed. D. Fraser (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), pp. 10-16. 159 foreground of the" sacrificial scene in the Sistine Chapel

(Fig. 15). 305 Similarly, it has been suggested that the two wind-gods in the painting are based on a gem in the collection of Lorenzo de' Medici, the Tazza Farnese (Fig.

72). 306 Gombrich accepts this suggestion. 307 But

Olson's further comment is significant:

If one accepts the theory, one must recognize that Botticelli reversed and dramatically transformed the motif .... Botticelli's depiction ..... owes as much to a typological evolution w~ ijin his own oeuvre ..... as to any antique prototype .. 0

Olson guesses that the "convincing floating sensation of the figures" may be due to the influence of the gem .. 309

But she fails to recall that just this sensation is masterfully conveyed earlier in Botticelli's "typological evolution" and again in the Sistine Chapel (Fig. 17).. To summarize, only the figure of Venus in the Birth of Venus can be attributed with certainty to classical influence.

Both figures in Botticelli's third mythological painting, known as Pallas and the Centaur (Fig. 73) and dating from the early 1480s, may owe something to antique

305 o1son, Studies, p .. 193 ..

306T .. Yuen, "The Tazza Farnese as a Source for Botticelli's Birth of Venus and Piero di Cosimo's Myth of Prometheus," Gazette des Beaux-Arts .. 74 (1969), 175-178.

307 Gom b r~c . h , "Botticelli's Hythologies," n. 156 (p .. 218).

308o1son, Studies, p .. 194 .. 309 o1son, Studies, p .. 194 .. 160

models. The figure of the centaur resembles closely a

centaur on a sarcophagus in the Vatican Museums. 310 On

the other hand, as Olson observes, centaurs were common in

antique art and they enjoyed a vogue in the Quattrocento,

especially in Florence. 311 It is therefore difficult to

be certain on this score. Pallas too has been thought to

"reflect an antique prototype," specifically the figure of

Venus on a sarcophagus relief depicting the Judgement of 312 Paris, from the Villa Medici in Rome (Fig. 74). By contrast, Ettlinger has said that Botticelli executed the painting "without turning to classical art for 313 models." In any case, one might add that an equally

likely candidate for prototype is the figure of Venus on another relief of the Judgement of Paris--the one which Ghirlandaio copied in s. M. in Honterone in Rome, near the Palazzo Valle-Capranica (Fig. 21). Both figures at some time lost their right arms (later restored in the latter relief) and since the drawing in the Codex Escurialensis

includes the right arm of Venus in a position unlike that of Rotticelli's Pallas, the Villa Medici version may be the

310E. Tietze-Conrat, "Botticelli and the Antique," The Burlington Magazine. 47, No. 270 (1925), 124-128.

311Compare Sassetti's use of the image: De Tolnay, p. 248. 312 olson, Studies, p. 198. 313Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 130. 161 more likely source. Rut two things should be noted. . I First, Ghirlandaio may himself have accurately restored the missing arm in copying the figure, in which case Botticelli would have been confronted with a damaged figure leaving him free to introduce the needed gesture. Secondly, this figure of Venus inspired Mantegna's Venus in his Parnassus, which, with the drawing in the Codex, suggests the 314 popularity of the relief in the late Quattrocento.

Finally, speaking in favor of the latter prototype is a phenomenon mentioned by Vermeule. He notes that monuments which stayed in one place were apt to draw less attention than those which were frequently moved; and the Villa

Medici sarcophagus is a "classic example of a static 315 antiquity."

A striking feature of the group of Pallas and the centaur is the way their poses constitute a closed unit.

This calls to mind the similar twosome in Botticelli's

Roman Adoration (Fig. 25), which was modelled on one of the

Horse-t amers on t h e Qu1r1na. . 1 • 316 And in that instance

Botticelli modified his model to form just such an insular group. If this group was at the back of Botticelli's mind in painting the Pallas, this might explain the moving

314 Above, Chap. 2 Sec. 2

315 vermeule, p. 8. 316 Above, Chap. 3 Sec. 2. 162 pathos of the centaur's very human face. As noted,

Botticelli also modified the face of the Horsetamer to achieve a similar effect. Thematically, too, the two f 1gures. 1nv1 . 't e compar1son.. 317 To summarize, then, the figure of Pallas may owe something to the impression made upon Botticelli by a Venus on a sarcophagus relief, while the centaur is probably a conventional motif. The group as a whole resembles the similar couple in Botticelli's Roman

Adoration which itself has antique roots.

Of the fourth of Botticelli's mythologies, Mars and

Venus (Fig. 75), which again dates from the early 1480s,

Olson has noted that it is "not overtly antiauarian." 318

As she observes, reclining figures were quite common on cassoni. But facing figures such as Botticelli's are rare and are found more often on sarcophagi. A relief on a sarcophagus depicting Bacchus and Ariadne (Fig. 76) may have furnished the model for Botticelli's cornpos1. t'1on. 319 Individually, neither figures appears to be inspired by antiquity.

The most striking result of this brief survey is that there are so few clear and unambiguous borrowings from classical antiquity in Botticelli's mythological paintings:

317rnsofar as both concern the taming of a beast. 318 o1son, Studies, p. 201. 319 T·1e t ze-Conra t , pass1m. ' 163 conceivably, only Venus in the Birth of Venus and Pallas in

Pallas and the Centaur. It is, of course, possible that

Botticelli consulted any number of reliefs and statues in the course of his work on the mythologies. If that were the case, it would simply underscore the enigma these works pose.

In his Sistine frescoes and in his Roman Adoration

Botticelli always included visual references to antiquities. In his later secular works this practice continued. By contrast, in his four major mythological paintings Botticelli only rarely drew on classical visual sources in developing his imagery. This is true of both his settings and his figures. Or, if he did in fact draw on such sources, the channels of classical influence were so oblique and tortuous that they cannot be traced with any certainty.

Olson, who is very acute in tracing classical motifs in the Sistine frescoes and the whole corpus of

Botticelli's Roman works, is aware that the mythologies mark a break in his relationship to antique visual models.

To explain the change they signal, she suggests that, as time passed and his initial infatuation with Rome and its monuments waned, Botticelli carne more and more to

"compound" his visual sources, that is, to synthesize specific visual models in the process of creating his own 164

320 personal imagery all'antica. Such a development would 321 parallel that of Ghiberti. Whether this claim is compatible with Olson's assertion that Botticelli drew on

"types" rather than specific monuments is 322 questionable. But it should be observed that Olson explicitly bases this theory on a purely hypothetical analogy between Botticelli's practice as a painter and the method whereby (she thinks) the programs of his mythologies were created.

It has been thought that Botticelli's patrons and their learned "advisers" drew up explicit programs defining the imagery of these works, and that for one reason or another they often drew on numerous classical literary sources, even for single figures, which they compounded to achieve the desired result. 323 Granting the likelihood that Botticelli's mythologies are indebted to various textual sources, it is clearly unwise and methodologically unsound to argue by this analogy in speculating about

Botticelli's use of antique visual sources. Must the

320olson, Studies, pp. 203 and passim; a similar argument in R. Salvini, "Umanesimo di Botticelli," Emporium. 99 (1944-45), 19-26.

321Krautheimer, Lorenzo Ghiberti, pp. 277-293.

322They would appear to he incompatible.

323since Warburg, "Sandro Botticellis," passim, most interpreters propose such a textual program; Wind, pp. 113-140 and passim is the most extreme example. 165 artist's practice so closely resemble that of his humanist advisers?

These considerations aside, Olson's suggested solution to the problem posed by the mythologies does not commend itself. For as shown in the previous section of this study, Botticelli's Roman style all'antica survived his return to Florence, filtered down to workshop procedures and still turned up in his last works. There remains, thus, a stark and enigmatic contrast between the scarcity of verifiable classical artistic influences in the mythologies and their unambiguous presence both in

Botticelli's Roman works and throughout the balance of his later secular oeuvre.

From Narrative to Vision

The enigma posed by the mythologies can be resolved by widening the perspective from which they are viewed.

They were studied in the preceding section from the vantage point of Botticelli's development. Corning so soon after the artist's Roman sojourn, which had a deep and lasting impact on him, the mythologies show surprisingly little sign of this decisive experience. They are comparatively remote from the visual arts of antiquity. To understand their eccentric position vis-a-vis antiquity, it is necessary to pursue still further the developmental approach to the mythologies, while broadening the discussion to include their style. 166

As the generic label suggests, Botticelli's

"mythologies" are often regarded as a family. But the

question has rarely been posed: Aside from their mythological content, what precisely do these works have in common? They differ in size, date and provenance and, although all date from the early 1480s, there is no evidence whatever that any two of them, even, were or1g1na. . 11 y conce1ve. d as pen d an t s. 324 Still, these works do share certain features in addition to their unique relationship to antiquity. To begin with, one might observe that all the mythologies have what could be called a "visionary" quality. This has often been felt. For example, when Jacob Burckhardt, the scholar who virtually single-handedly created the "Renaissance" as a category in historical studies, read Warburg's dissertation on the mythologies, he expressed regret that the writer had neglected to consider Botticelli the "mystical 325 theologia_n. n And more recently, Gombrich felt 326 reminded of "beatific visions" by these paintings.

The mythologies' visionary impression is a function

324 Dempsey, passim.

325Letter to A. Warburg, cited in the original by w. Hecksher, "The Genesis of Iconology," Stil und Ueber­ lieferung in der Kunst des Abendlandes (Akten des XXI Internationalen Kongresses fuer Kunstgeschichte in Bonn, 1964) (Berlin: Mann, 1969) III, 242-243.

326Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," p. 63. 167

of their style. And stylistically, the mythologies are

quite as exceptional among the works of Botticelli's

maturity as they are from an antiquarian stannpoint. What

is the source of their visionary style? The answer may be

found in the fact that the mythologies contain virtually no

narrative elements. They depict various classical deities

in settings altogether untouched by time. Their element, as Botticelli evokes it, is not that of humankind; the

sound and fury of human affairs, narrative in the broadest sense, has no place in it. Venus and her train in the

Primavera; Pallas and her centaur; even the goddess of the

Birth of Venus: all share a timeless, rather iconic quality. No doubt this lack of explicit narrative has been a major cause of the common feeling that there is more to these works than first meets the eye.

For a painter such as Botticelli, schooled on

Albertian principles and dedicated to Albertian ideals of narrative painting, a series of commissions for paintings of considerahle complexity unrelieved hy the unifying element of narrative must have posed seemingly intractable difficulties. It will he argued here that the solution which Botticelli hit upon in designing the Primavera led him to conceive the balance of his mythological paintings in a similar way. The unique style of the mythologies reflects the artist's response to a specific artistic problem; their remoteness from antiquity was a by-product of this stylistic choice. 168

To meet the challenge posed by the non-narrative nature of the mythologies, Botticelli appears to have adopted the practice of modelling his mythological compositions on conventional works of religious art. His

Birth of Venus (Fig. 69) resembles in its format the traditional Baptism of Christ (Fig. 77); so does Pallas and the Centaur (Fig. 73). Even the composition of Mars and

Venus (Fig. 75), probably the last of Botticelli's mythological paintings and certainly the least visionary, still seems to be based on a conventional format common on sarcoph agus l 1'd s. 327

Others have recognized that Botticelli had recourse to traditional religious models in designing the Birth of

Venus and Pallas and the Centaur. Gombrich suggests that it was from their religious associations that these works derived their elevated tone. 328 Perhaps this formal kinship has influenced the way these works have been perceived. But as regards their creation, this theory puts the cart before the horse. For in turning initially to such a model, Botticelli was responding to the challenge posed by a painting inherently "elevated" in theme. This painting was the Primavera, the first of Botticelli's mythologies.

327Above at n. 319.

328Gombrich among others: "Botticelli's Mythologies," pp. 62-64. 169

Botticelli was a serious student of Dante. And in

designing the Primavera he adopted as a compositional model

a miniature from a Sienese manuscript of the Divine Comedy

(Figs. 63, 64). The same manuscript can be shown to have

influenced Botticelli's own first set of illustrations of

the poem, done ca. 1480 for a lavish printed edition of

Dante which included the commentary of Cristoforo Landino;

so it is perhaps not surprising that, confronted with the

Primavera commission, Botticelli turned to this familiar . . t. 329 source o f 1nsp1ra-1on.

The miniature in question illustrates two episodes

from Cantos xxvii-xxviii of Dante's Purgatorio in

continuous narrative. At the left Dante is shown asleep on

the ground in the company of the poets Virgil and Statius.

As they sleep, Dante dreams of Rachel and Leah and the beholder shares his dream as the sisters are represented at the center of the painting. On the right, finally, the poets encounter Matelda, the sole inhabitant of the Earthly

Paradise atop Mt. Purgatory. The format of the Primavera is not identical to that of the miniature. Botticelli's

329K. Clark, The Drawings of Sandro Botticelli for Dante's Divine Comedy (New York: Harper and Row, 1976), Introduction, discusses Botticelli's relationship to Dante. The Sienese manuscript: J. Pope-Hennessey, A Sienese Codex of the Divine Comedy (London: Phaidon-;- 1947). The following observations of Botticelli's Primavera in its relation to Dante are confined to essentials. For a more detailed and more thoroughly documented discussion, the reader is referred to Appendix B of this study. 170 painting contains nine figures, the miniature ten, although one of these barely peeks out from behind another. The panel also has more of a focal point in the figure of

Venus. ~~at is remarkable is the extent of the similarity in spite of such differences. Formally, the two works are mirror images. Each features a triad of interlocking figures on either side of the composition. The triad of poets at the right of the miniature, composed in a circle, is attended by a fourth terminal figure, Matelda, along the border of the scene. Botticelli's triad of Graces at the left of the Primavera is similarly accompanied by the terminal figure of Mercury. Furthermore, just as the angel in the miniature descends toward the foremost of the poets,

Dante, so Cupid in the Primavera descends toward the foremost of the Graces, at whom he aims a flaming bolt.

The fact that Mercury in the Primavera is turned away from the Graces while Matelda faces Dante in the miniature is worth pointing out. But this difference is superficial. Just as Dante's attention is focused on

Matelda while the angel descends toward him, so does the foremost of the Graces gaze intently at Mercury as Cupid aims his arrow at her. Another difference is equally insignificant. Though the angel hovers immediately above the poets in the miniature, while Cupid is closer to the center of the Primavera, their gestures are virtually identical. 171

The two other triads in these paintings are also

slightly different from one another. Botticelli's figures

at the right (Zephyr, Chloris and Flora) are upright, while the three figures at the left-in the miniature (the three poets, this time shown asleep), are seated on the ground.

The two groups are alike, however, in that they recede from the foreground in file; and of course they balance the triads opposite them.

The figure of Rachel in the miniature commands something of the attention Venus receives in the Primavera: though seated, her stature is close to that of the standing figures. And while Leah is the tenth figure not found in the Primavera, she invites comparison with Flora in

Botticelli's work. Both come forward into the picture plane from the right and both gather, or scatter, flowers.

The crucial common factor between the two compositions is their overwhelmingly episodic construction. Thanks to its combination of events from two passages in Dante, the miniature has no narrative unity.

The poets form a closed group at the left as they sleep;

Rachel and Leah form a central, pivotal and equally insular group as the subjects of Dante's dream; and the group at the right belongs in an altogether oifferent narrative context. It is scarcely surprising, therefore, that the miniature was adopted by Botticelli as a model for the 172

330 equally episodic Primavera. It provided him with an

admirable sclution to a purely artistic dilemma: how to

unify a composition containing nine figures in a shallow

space without recourse to narrative interaction.

Despite the lack of independent documentation, the

program of the Primavera can be reliably reconstructed.

The key to its interpretation may be found in Botticelli's

choice of a compositional model. The Sienese miniature, as

seen, illustrates the Earthly Paradise atop Mt. Purgatory.

The iconography of the Primavera was similarly determined

by Dante's description of the Earthly Paradise in

conjunction with Landino's commentary on these passages.

Dante explicitly compares the Earthly Paradise with the

Golden Age dreamed of by the ancient poets. And the

Primavera is a representation of the pagan Golden Age in

its paradisiac setting. But the relationship of the painting to the poem is quite cornplex and goes beyond this general influence.

Dante's account of his experience of Paradise is couched within a visionary framework. His entry into the

330Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 122, writes: "Botticelli has not employed any narrative technique to give cohesion to a large painting with many figures" and that "the elements making up the painting are simply set side by side like pearls on a string." Similarly, Horne, p. 60, writes: "For the composition of the scene there is no precedent. Although it represents but a single scene, the subject is treated in a series of incidents." Horne's first sentence is inaccurate, as shown in the text. 173

Earthly Paradise is foreshadowed by a prophetic dream (the

dream of Rachel and Leah illustrated in the miniature)~

There follows Dante's initial encounter with Matelda, the

presiding spirit of the Earthly Paradise, who is also shown

in the Sienese painting~ Finally, Dante is vouchsafed a

vision of Beatrice, the embodiment of his aspirations and

the goal of his striving~ This entire visionary sequence

left its mark on the Primavera~ Landino, in his commentary

(printed, it will be recalled, in the edition on which

Botticelli had worked), emphasizes the visionary context of

Dante's entry into the Earthly Paradise~ He explicitly

calls the poet's prophetic dream of Rachel and Leah a

n • • n ( • • ) 331 V1S10n V1S10ne ~ And the Primavera is not simply a depiction Qf an antique paradise; it is a visionary evocation of Venus and her company amidst the rich

surroundings of this classical Eden~

That Venus in the Primavera is made to reign over the ideal realm of paganism is also due to Dante and

Landino~ The visionary verses at the end of the Purgatorio are replete with allusions to classical myth~ Venus is alluded to explicitly, once in connection with the vision of Rachel and Leah, and twice more in connection with

Matelda~ While the other figures in the Primavera seem

331commedia del Divino Poeta Danthe Alighieri, con la ~ ~ ~ spositione de Cristoforo Landino (1481; rpt~ Venice: 1536), P~ 301r~ 174

also to have been suggested by Dante's classical allusions

and poetic imagery, Venus is the deity most frequently

invoked by the poet. Landino stresses the allusions to

Venus in the Purgatorio and takes them to mean that Dante's

ascent of ~~t. Purgatory was guided by the "celestial

Venus." 332 The role of Matelda in Dante's Earthly

Paradise is assumed by Venus in Botticelli's pagan

paradise.

Botticelli's attempt to create a visionary

equivalent all'antica of Dante's Earthly Paradise occasioned the radical change in style which the Primavera

represents in his development. But this effort was itself due to the program of the painting, and in turning to the

interpretation of the imagery of the Primavera, this discussion has entered the domain of patronage. Lorenzo di

Pierfrancesco de' r1edici, who commissioned the Primavera, was himself an avid student of Dante. He ordered

Botticelli's first set of drawings after Dante for the 1481 edition with Landino's commentary. He also commissioned

Botticelli's surviving set of Dante drawings, done probably in the late 1490s. 333 The common interest in Dante shared by painter and patron accounts for the fact that both the composition and the imagery of the Primavera were

332Landino, Spositione, p. 197r. 333 clark, The Drawings, p. 10; Horne, p. 251. 175 conceived under the influence of the Divine Comedy. But it cannot be stressed sufficiently that the change in

Botticelli's style which the Primavera represents was occasioned by the patron's conception of the painting.

Botticelli's use of a foreign model as a means of accomplishing the required stylistic transformation was a response to the imperatives of patronage.

As noted, the Primavera's successors among

Botticelli's mythological paintings were also designed on the basis of ready-to-hand visual models. The Birth of

Venus (Fig. 69) and Pallas and the Centaur (Fig. 73) were evidently modelled on the conventional format of the

Baptism of Christ. Both paintings, furthermore, have a visionary ·quality closely akin to that of the Primavera.

In spite of the almost tangible energy which flows throughout the Birth of Venus (in the "motion" of the winds and waves, in the billowing draperies and tresses}, what is shown is an isolated, timeless moment of epiphany as the goddess emerges on dry land. It is the visual embodiment all'antica of a pagan advent. 334 Spelling out the visionary dimension of Pallas and the Centaur is made more difficult by the lack of agreement regarding its very theme. It has recently been persuasively argued that the painting in fact represents Venus Cytherea and a

334 Panofsky, p. 199. 176

335 Centaur. Pallas was not generally shown armed in the fashion of Botticelli's figure. But a print common in late-fifteenth and sixteenth-century editions of

Poliziano's poem Stanze per la giostra, already cited in another connection by Warburg, shows an image of an armed maiden which powerfully recalls Botticelli's "Pallas."

This maiden {Fig. 78) floats in truly visionary fashion above a sacrificial altar all'antica inscribed "CITA/REA."

If the interpretation of Botticelli's painting as a representation of Venus Cytherea is accepted, then this print offers evidence that Botticelli's visionary image of the armed Venus is related to similar figures of the late

Quattrocento. In addition, this interpretation links these works to the Birth of Venus, for Venus Cytherea was named for her birthplace off the shore of the island of Cythera, whence she emerged armed from the sea. 336

The Primavera is the only one of Botticelli's mythologies of which both the patron and the program, as well as the visual model, can be determined. Only in this case is there evidence that the visionary style of the painting mirror's the patron's conception of the work. In view of the differences between the mythologies, the claim that their common style was in each case a product of the

335 smith, p. 36.

336Below, Appendix B. 177

patron's wishes would require evidence of a degree and kind

quite lacking. To be sure, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de'

Medici, who commissioned the Primavera, also commissioned

Botticelli's "Pallas," which suggests that the visionary

treatment the latter work received was part of its

program. But, while this is possible, it would not explain

the similar approach in the Birth of Venus, since there is

no evidence that it, too, was done for the young Hedici.

It is also true that the sense of epiphany which is such a

prominent feature of the Birth of Venus is characteristic

of many examples of the same theme in classical art. 337

But while this may have influenced the planning of the painting, the cumulative evidence suggests that the common visionary quality of Botticelli's mythological paintings should be viewed in the context of his development as an artist.

As the first of his mythological paintings, the

Primavera proved crucial for Botticelli's development. The crisis which it occasioned was not resolved with the completion of this one painting but came to define his entire approach to mythological painting. Having found a solution to the dilemma posed by the non-narrative theme of the Primavera, Botticelli adopted a similar approach to his later mythologies. Whatever the source of their

337Lawrence, passim. 178 iconography, Botticelli created them in the image of the

Primavera, even as he followed its precedent in modelling them on borrowed compositional formats. The visionary style in which all of these mythological works are cast arose progressively, as the stylistic shadow of the

Primavera fell upon each painting in turn. It is thanks to this abiding influence of the Primavera, and of the stylistic solution which it represents, that Botticelli's mythologies came to constitute an independent genre among his works.

As shown in the preceding section of this study, the mythologies also represent an independent genre among

Botticelli's works involving classical themes.

Botticelli's style all'antica was defined by his fundamentally Albertian narrative style. It is due to the lack of narrative elements in the mythologies that they are on the whole quite foreign to classical art. This is particularly true of the Primavera. As shown in the previous section, not a single character in the painting can be demonstrated to have an antique visual source. But even the two figures in the mythologies which do seem to reflect classical inspiration (Venus in the Birth of Venus and "Pallas" in the painting known as Pallas and the

Centaur) are unlike anything else in Botticelli's classicizing oeuvre. Far from performing a narrative or dramatic role, these figures are static, hieratic in stance ' .

. I 179

and deportment. As shown, the figure of Venus in the Birth

probably reflects the influence of an antique

representation of the goddess; and in general she is a variation on a Venus pudica. The figure of "Pallas" is probably based on a Venus from a sarcophagus relief of the

Judgement of Paris. The interpretation of the "Pallas" as

an image of Venus Cytherea suggests an intriguing possibility. If this view is accepted, then both the Venus

of the Birth of Venus and the figure of Venus Cytherea are based on classical images of the goddess herself. It has

frequently been argued that Renaissance depictions of the gods drew upon antique literary descriptions in order to 338 approx~mate. t h e~r . aut h ent~c . aspect. Perh aps ~n . t h ese two works Botticelli was asked to model his images of Venus on classical visual prototypes as part of his visionary evocation of the goddess. This would account for these two isolated instances of classical inspiration in Botticelli's mythological paintings.

This hypothesis finds support in the fourth of

Botticelli's mythological paintings, the Mars and Venus

(Fig. 75). As noted, this work too is based on a foreign compositional model. But in this case the source is classicafJ (a sarcophagus relief) and quite secular in theme. This harmonizes well with the tone of the painting,

338E.G., Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," pp. 53-54. 180 which has a lightness and humor starkly contrasting with the solemnity of its predecessors. The Mars and Venus marks a movement away from vision and toward illustrative decoration. Ironically, in spite of its classical model, its individual figures do not reflect antique inspiration.

This, again, suggests that Botticelli, in his mythologies, only turned to antique motifs when a genuine image of a deity was required as part of a serious portrayal of the classical pantheon.

The enigma posed by the eccentricity of the mythologies among Botticelli's works involving classical themes, by their unique place in the evolution of his style all'antica, dissolves when these works are viewed within the context of his artistic development. For these works are also quite exceptional from a purely stylistic standpoint. The distinctive "visionary" style of the mythologies was the offspring of a crisis. The program of the Primavera, which called for a visionary evocation of the realm of Venus without recourse to narrative, forced

Botticelli to adopt a style completely at variance with his usual Albertian approach. His solution to this strictly artistic problem was to design the work on the basis of a foreign model. The similarly non-narrative character of the later mythologies led Botticelli to proceed in the same manner in painting them. 181

Botticelli's style all'antica was so closely bound to his fundamentally Albertian style that when he abandoned the latter in his mythological paintings, the former too was set aside. In only two instances did Botticelli turn to classical models for figures in the mythologies, probably due to outside influence. And these figures are quite outside the mainstream of his characteristic approach to classical imagery.

Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici, who commissioned both the Primavera and the "Pallas," was

Botticelli's major patron after his return from Rome to

Florence. Thus he played a role analogous to that of a

Sassetti or a Tornabuoni in Ghirlandaio's career. But

Ghirlandaio's major patrons at most inhibited, and at best fostered, the expression of his evolving classical style.

By contrast, Botticelli's major patron initiated a crisis in Botticelli's development which led the artist to retreat from his recently adopted style all'antica in some of his most important and impressive paintings representing classical subjects. CONCLUSION

The Primacy of Patronage

The importance of patronage in the revival of antiquity in the arts cannot be overestimated. For all their difference in style and attitude towards antiquity,

Ghirlandaio and Botticelli had one thing in common: their responses to Rome and her antiquities were determined by their artistic concerns. To this extent their Roman sojourn, while it contributed decisively to their repertoire, did not alter the courses which they had already begun as painters.

Both artists' Roman styles all'antica survived their return to Florence, but the demands of their major

Florentine patrons were not equally conducive to the continuing evolution of these nascent Roman styles. The

Sassetti Chapel commission may have inhibited Ghirlandaio by the constraints it imposed upon his antiquarian enthusiasm; but this commission did not precipitate a crisis in Ghirlandaio's stylistic evolution or in his relationship to antiquity and antique visual sources. And the Tornabuoni Chapel commission more than made up for the

182 ' 183

restrictions of the Sassetti program. In this instance the

demands of the patron and the inclination of the painter

seem to have been compatible, with the result that

Ghirlandaio was able not merely to introduce a wealth of

classical imagery into the chapel decoration but even to

conduct stylistic forays into new artistic realms under the

influence of antiquity.

By contrast, although Botticelli's nascent Roman

style survived primarily in minor works and workshop

products, it did survive to the end of his career and

evidently came to be assimilated by his pupils in the

process. What is most compelling, however, is the manner

in which the desires of his major patrons, especially

Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici/ altered the course of

Botticelli's stylistic evolution and, consequently, his

relationship to the visual arts of antiquity. By focusing

on the commission for the Primavera, which seems to have

occasioned this crisis in Botticelli's development and

struck at the roots of his nascent Roman style, the attempt

has been made to pinpoint the critical moment when the

impact of patronage first became crucial. A least some of

Botticelli's later mythological paintings share many

features in imagery and style with the Primavera; and the

same is true with respect to their relationship to antique visual models. These works were evidently conceived in the

same spirit, though not by the same patron, as the

Primavera. 184

This is an area which begs for further

investigation. But enough has been said here to indicate

the lines along which such a study might proceed. The

surface, and occasionally superficial, harmony of

Botticelli's art tends to conceal the crises that gave it

birth. The complexity of his development should be sought

behind the consistently enchanting tapestry he wove.

It is the patronage of Ghirlandaio and especially

of Botticelli that is most urgently in need of further

study. The attitudes of Sassetti and Tornabuoni toward

Rome, ancient and modern, remain hazy, and the patronage of

Botticelli's mythologies is still in many respects terra

incognita. New information on these subjects, in turn, would have manifold ramifications for the art of

Ghirlandaio and Botticelli and their links to the visual arts of antiquity. \

Two paintings so far unmentioned clearly demonstrate the critical role of patronage in the development of Ghirlandaio and Botticelli; at the same time they sum up the differences between the two men.

The Triumph of Bacchus

A seen, Botticelli's initial reaction to the antiquities of Rome assumed a characteristically

Quattrocento form. Antique imagery suggesting energy, fluent or passionate motion, and pathos appealed most to him. 185

Both Ghirlandaio's archeological approach and the

style of Botticelli's mythologies stand outside the mainstream of the Quattrocento approach to antiquity. But

in one work at least Ghirlandaio drew from the Dionysian dimension of antique imagery.

The Tornabuoni Chapel commission called for a

fresco depicting the Massacre of the Innocents (Fig. 79).

Not surprisingly, Ghirlandaio seems to have left the execution of this uncongenial subject to his pupils and . t t 339 ass~s an s. But in the designing of the figures

Ghirlandaio turned to the classical imagery of pathos and frenzy to which he normally gave wide berth. 340

The fresco is a mosaic: the fleeing mother at the left, her infant in her arms, is taken almost verbatim from a figure of a barbarian woman on the Column of Marcus

Aurelius (Fig. 80); the dependency on the antique descends to the point of the poignant facial expression of the mother. The central groups of a soldier grasping his mount as he falls and another soldier slaying a fleeing woman from the rear are taken from a relief on the west wall of

339 Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 439.

340on Ghirlandaio's antique sources: Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 437-439; A. Warburg, "L'ingresso dello stile ideale anticheggiante nella pittura del primo rinascimento," (the original text of a 1914 lecture only summarized in Ges. Schr.}, in La Rinascita del paganesimo antico. Contributi all storia dell cultura (Florence, 1966), pp. 301-302. 186

the central passage of the Arch of Constantine (Fig. 81);

surprisingly, the energy and ferocity of the horse surpass

that of the antique model, resembling in this respect the horse in Botticelli's Roman Adoration. One wonders whether

Ghirlandaio or one of his pupils knew Botticelli's group

(Fig. 25).

The woman on the right who grasps desperately at the hair of a soldier who has taken her child recalls

forcibly a maenad on a Neo-Attic relief which can be traced to the Villa Medici in sixteenth-century Rome (Fig.

82). 341 Presumably Ghirlandaio here relies upon a drawing of this or a related relief. The blade wielded by the maenad has been omitted and Ghirlandaio's figure grasps her molester with both hands; but in pose and features the two are nearly identical. It is difficult to say whether the stiffness of Ghirlandaio's figure is due to ineptitude or is an intentional departure from the suppleness of the 342 model.

The central group of mounted soldier and fleeing woman is repeated twice more in the fresco, less literally and less successfully. Similarly, the fleeing mother at

341 Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 439; on the relief: G. Mansuelli, Le Gallerie degli Uffizi (Rome: Institute Poligrafico dello Stato, 1958-61), I, 214-215, No. 221. Warburg, "L'ingresso," p. 302, thought this figure and the woman at the left were based on a Medea sarcophagus. Dacos's sources are here accepted.

342oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 439, notes this departure and assumes it is due to ineptitude. 187 the left is repeated in the background and again from another angle on the extreme right.

Vasari praises the fresco and especially the way

Ghirlandaio depicts so

finely the struggles of the women, and the soldiers and horses striking and driving them. Of all his subjects this is the best, being Cj{3ied out with judgment, ingenuity and great art. vasari lauds especially the central figure of the mother tearing the hair of the soldier who, as Vasari thought, is crushing her child--the figure mentioned above, based on the Neo-Attic maenad. 344 But Vasari's taste in such matters was very nearly the opposite of Ghirlandaio's and, what is important in this context, this fresco is unique within the spectrum of Ghirlandaio's oeuvre.

One Ghirlandaio scholar has spoken of the antipathy 345 of Ghirlandaio's style toward movement. The Massacre of the Innocents demanded a melee and so Ghirlandaio turned to a source frequently drawn on to achieve such effects: the Bacchic and the violent aspects of antique imagery, especially Roman historical reliefs and Neo-Attic decorative reliefs.

4 3 3 vasar1-M1 ' '1 anes1' II I, 264 (H'1n d s t rans., p. 7 3) •

3 4 4 Vasar1-M1 . '1 anes1. III, 265 { H1n . d s t rans,, p. 74). 345Rosenauer, "Zum Stil," p. 63 on the Bewegungs­ feindlichkeit of Ghirlandaio's style. 188

Of the Tornabuoni frescoes, only the Massacre of the Innocents fails to show Ghirlandaio exploring a new figure style under the influence of antiquity. The reiterated use of four antique models in rather mechanical fashion suggests that Ghirlandaio had here taken up a type of theme and imagery which, while quite common in classical and Renaissance art, was basically foreign to him. In this respect the Massacre of the Innocents demonstrates how the imperatives of patronage could curb the artist's autonomy and harness him to traditional values and taste.

The opposite development is characteristic of

Botticelli's relationship to antiquity and patronage. By nature, Botticelli tended toward a traditional approach to antique visual sources; the demands of patronage forced him to depart from this tradition and his own tendency. From the animated and passionate aspects of antique imagery,

Botticelli was steered to the more static and "classical" realms of the antique visual arts. In one late work, however, the bridle of patronage was removed and

Botticelli's penchant for the more Dionysian aspects of classical art reasserted itself.

In some respects Botticelli's Calumny of Apelles

(Fig. 83) is closer to his mythologies than to the balance of his secular works. It is antique in theme and imagery; it is based on a classical literary text, probably modified by a contemporary text; and it has the same solemnity as 189

most of Botticelli's mythologies proper. One feels that

here too the artist is more than a mere illustrator.

It is all the more remarkable in view of these

similarities that in the Calumny, painted probably in the early 1490s, Botticelli's Roman style all'antica reemerges after it had been in abeyance in his great mythological works of the 1480s. Of course, as previously indicated, this Roman style did not vanish altogether; but it was primarily in evidence in somewhat minor works at least partially executed by assistants and pupils. In the

Calumny it resurfaces in a major work quite close in other respects to the mythologies. "

The subject of the painting is unusual: an allegory of Calumny based on a description of a similar painting by 346 t h e Gree k pa1nter. Ape 11 es, wr1tten. b y Luc1an. . Albert1 . had recommended the topic in his treatise On Painting and

Botticelli knew both Alberti's discussion and, probably at 347 second hand, Lucian's account. Lucian wrote that

Apelles had been accused of treason by a rival and that, as a reply, he had painted a picture of a judge before whom an innocent victim is dragged by Calumny. In Botticelli's painting, which follows Lucian's account in this respect,

346Lucian, trans. by A. Harmer (Loeb Classical Library) I (1913, rpt. London: Heinemann, 1927), 359-395 (De calumnia).

347Alberti, pp. 94-97; Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 145. 190

Calumny is joined by Envy, Treachery and Deceit. The judge

lends an ear to Ignorance and Suspicion. Remorse stands

aside, turning to Truth. 348

It was not for allegorical reasons that Alberti

recommended the topic as a worthy 11 invention," but for the

sake of the varied characters and expressions it called

for. And it may be safely said that Alberti's praise along

with the expressive and dramatic potential of the theme led

Bott1ce. 11'1 to pa1nt. t h e su b.Ject. 349

For the painting is intensely dramatic, remarkably

so in view of its allegorical nature and cast. While the

courtroom is spacious and lofty, most of the figures rush

to the right, abruptly halting at the judge's throne, "like

waves breaking on a rock.n 350 That the Calumny

represents not merely a reassertion of Botticelli's

dramatic style but also of his initial style all'antica is

proved by the fact, which seems to have gone unnoticed, that the figure of Calumny is closely modelled_on the same barbarian woman from the Column of Marcus Aurelius (Fig.

82) that was adopted by Ghirlandaio for the figure at the

left of his Massacre of the Innocents. In fact, the figure

348rt is worth noting that the Greek word normally rendered as "remorse" is rnetanoia, which is common in the Gospels and always rendered as "repentance" (e.g., Mk. 1:15).

349Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 145; Lightbown, I, 124-125. 350Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 145. 191

of Calumny is closer to the model than Ghirlandaio's

figure; the major departure from the model is the face of

Calumny, which could not be depicted as anguished.

Neither Lucian nor Alberti mentions the setting of

the event and Botticelli has invented a setting all'antica, replete with grisailles recalling various classical myths

as well as contemporary works of art and literature. It

seems unlikely that any complex iconographic program determined these elements of setting any more than the

similar setting of the Tornabuoni frescoes. Presumably they serve primarily to suggest the antique setting of the event and, perhaps, to demonstrate the painter's skill. 351

The statues in niches, such a striking feature of the pillars which articulate the courtroom, serve to reiterate the static statement made by the figure of Truth at the left. It has often been observed that this nude figure is a close copy of Botticelli's Venus in the Birth 352 of Venus (Fig. 69). But in addition to the figure's allegorical role, which no doubt occasioned its nudity, it also serves to balance the violent surge to the right of the other figures. Thus it serves a very important

351Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 146-147; Lightbown, II, 88-90, for a summary of these pseudo-reliefs etc., which confirms Ettlinger's opinion.

352E.g., Ettlinger, Botticelli, pp. 145-146. 192

stylistic function in the painting, and it is curious that

Botticelli has simply borrowed his earlier figure of Venus,

albeit in a noticeably hardened and even more static form.

It has been suggested that the oblique reference to Venus

implied by the use of the earlier figure may have been

1n. t ent. 1ona 1 • 353 But that would make all the more puzzling the artist's rather uninspired replica. If a

resemblance to an antique Venus was wanted for the figure of Truth, why did not Botticelli turn to an antique prototype?

The answer is perhaps not far to seek. Left to his own devices, Botticelli was drawn to the energetic and passionate imagery of antique reliefs. The use of a frenzied antique model for the figure of Calumny proves that. But having need of a static figure for Truth,

Botticelli used a stock figure indirectly descended from a less dynamic side of antique imagery. Put somewhat crassly, he seems to have been less interested-in the static figure of Truth than in the more difficult and complex figure of Calumny, and less stirred by the

Apollonian aspects of classical art than by its Dionysian dimension.

For the crucial fact about the Calumny is that it seems to have been painted on Botticelli's own initiative.

353Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 146. 193

Vasari simply says that it was given to Fabio Segni; beyond 354 that it is undocumented. As a recreation of a lost painting of Apelles, the Greek artist to whom his contemporaries compared Botticelli, it seems entirely reasonable to assume that the Calumny was undertaken for . I its own sake, at the suggestion of Alberti.

Thus the painting offers conclusive evidence of . I Botticelli's taste in antique imagery and style and of the critical importance of patronage in his career. Together with Ghirlandaio's Massacre of the Innocents, it shows that, of the obstacles with which the revival of antiquity had to contend, the imperatives of patronage were among the most challenging and fateful. But these two works also reveal the tenacious hold of the more Dionysian side of ancient imagery on artists and patrons alike. Ghirlandaio was ultimately forced to confront this aspect of classical art by the demands of his patron. Botticelli, for once liberated from such demands in the Calumny, returned again

~ I to this dimension of antique art, which had been the most congenial to him from the outset.

354vasari-Milanesi, III, 324. While Bull's trans., p. 261, gets this right, Ettlinger, Botticelli, p. 144, assumes Segni commissioned the painting. Lightbown, I, 123, thinks it was painted independent of any patron and compares, II, 191, the two eds. of Vasari's vita. Appendix A

SISTINE MAENADS: MEANING AND MANNER

The swiftly striding serving maid whom Ghirlandaio introduced into the staid birthchamber of St. John in s. M. Novella is, as noted, the younger sister of a series of

such animated maidens who populate the painting of the

Quattrocento (Fig. 87). 355 These figures reflect the blending of three related kinds of imagery.

First there is the Quattrocento's fondness for

female figures in flowing, animated draperies. In the art of Agostino di Duccio this predilection became a mannerism. This was a type of stylistic device much

favored by Alberti, and indeed Warburg argued that Agostino was influenced by Alberti in this respect. The two men had worked together in the construction and decoration of s. ... 356 F rancesco a t R1m1n1.

355Above, Chap. 4 Sec. 3 and Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 443-446. 356warburg, "Sandre Botticellis," pp. 11-13.

194 195

In selected figures by Ghiberti this stylistic trend was remade under the influence of similar features

from antique reliefs, for example the countless maenads on

Roman sarcophagi and Neo-Attic reliefs. Such maenads had long been adopted as sources for the portrayal of frenzied gestures and poses; and drawings after the antique by

Gentile de Fabriano and Jacopo Bellini display a preference f or s1m1. . 1 ar f.1gures. 357 But it is only with Ghiberti that the Quattrocento motif of the animated maiden, more an exercise in sprightliness than in pathos, was provided with an unambiguous antique pedigree. 358

Ghiberti introduced a third element into this syndrome. Vasari praised Ghirlandaio's lively maiden

"bringing fruit and wine from the city, in conformity with 359 the Florentine custom." Indeed, such "canephors"

(maidens bearing baskets or platters of fruit on their heads) are quite common in Florentine fifteenth-century painting. But it seems to have been Ghiberti who first

357on Neo-Attic maenads: w. Fuchs, Die Vorbilder der neauattichen Reliefs (Berlin, De Gruyter, 1959), pp. 72-91, Figs. 15-19, 21a; on their use in Italian art in dramatic contexts: F. Antal and E. \'lind, "The Maenad Under the Cross," Journal of the Warburg Institute. 1 (1937-38), 8-11; on the drawings of Gentile: Degenhart and Schmitt, Fig. 73; and on Bellini, Degenhart and Schmitt, Figs. 93-95, pp. 123-124.

358Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," pp. 444-445 with refs.

359 Vasar1-M1. "1 anes1,. III, 269 ( H1n . d s trans,, p. 74). 196

synthesized the motifs under the aegis of antique visual 360 conventions (Figs. 84, 85).

Ghirlandaio's figure is the offspring of this

merger. But between Ghiberti's maidens and that of

Ghirlandaio, other similar figures had been created.

Filippo Lippi's tondo of the Birth of the Virgin of 1452

contains the closest parallel to Ghirlandaio's figure. And

Antonio Pollaiuolo included a similar figure in his Birth

of St. John of 1478 (Figs. 86, 88). Thus once again

Ghirlandaio worked out of a tradition in his appropriation

of the antique figure style.

Warburg was obsessed with these Quattrocento maidens and subsumed them all under the rubric "nympha," probably following a suggestion of Leonardo's. 361 The

motif has since become familiar to students of Renaissance

art, 362 but it has rarely been noticed that such figures

also occur in a number of the Sistine frescoes executed in

360oacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 445.

36 ~1arburg, Ges. Schr., Index, s.v. Nympha and, for Leonardo, "Sandro Botticellis," p. 53. Gombrich, Aby Warburg, p. 106, cites a passage in H. Taine where, in describing the "nymph" in Ghirlandaio's Birth of the Baptist, the Frenchman uses precisely the same term; and his interpretation of the figure is strikingly similar to Warburg's later view. But Warburg does not cite Taine and while Taine's discussion may have suggested the usage, Leonardo probably justified it in Warburg's eyes.

362Thus J. Dobrick, "Botticelli's Sources: A Florentine Qauttrocento Tradition and Ancient Sculpture," Apollo. N.S. 110 (August, 1979), 114-127. 197

1481-82. 363 Botticelli's depiction of a sacrificial scene in his fresco representing the temptation of Christ

{Fig. 14) contains two female figures of this type. One, in the left middle-ground, rushes toward the altar bearing a basket of sacrificial birds on her head. She is similar to Judith's maid Abra in Botticelli's early panel {Fig.

8). More prominent is the right-hand "nymph" who bears faggots on her shoulder as she approaches the sacrifice, accompanied by a small boy. As seen, this boy is clearly derived from an antique model; and the female who proceeds toward the sacrifice is strikingly antique in 364 attitude.

Botticelli's two figures of nymphs are not at all visual cliches like Ghirlandaio's maiden, or like the related figure in the Codex Escurialensis {Fig. 58).

Botticelli's figures are made to function within his narrative. They are turned into the scene instead of being cast in the conventional profile silhouette. Thus they do not stand out jarringly from their context, as do Lippi's,

Pollaiuolo's and Ghirlandaio's nymphs.

Closer to the stereotype is the diminutive nymph in the central background of Perugino's {and Pinturicchio's)

Circumcision of Moses' Son in the Sistine Chapel; while in

363A. warburg, in a short note on "Sandro Botticelli," in Ges. Schr., I, 66 and Dacos, "Ghirlandaio," p. 445 and n. 5. 364 Above, Chap. 3 Sec. 2. 198 the left foreground the motif is more creatively introduced on a larger scale (Fig. 89). Rosselli's scene of the

Crossing of the Red Sea (Fig. 90) includes a variation on the motif which is again closer to the conventional cliche.

Warburg assumed that the motif appeared originally in Botticelli's fresco, whence the other artists working in the chapel learned to "domesticate her in the arts as a decorative metaphor of the Florentine nymph." 365 But this assumes that the artists themselves, beginning with

Botticelli, initiated the inclusion of the motif in ·the frescoes. Now the nature of the narrative certainly provided ample opportunity to introduce "canephors." The train of the Israelites called for numerous figures bearing assorted burdens. But in view of the typological role of classical imagery in the chapel frescoes, it seems likely that Warburg was incorrect in thinking that the painters

365warburg, "Sandre Botticelli," p. 66._ Botticelli's figures are, as seen, highly personalized; and this, together with the likelihood that the Circumcision of Perugino was one of the trial frescoes for the commission, makes it more likely that it was Perugino who first introduced the motif. His figure is very close to the Quattrocento cliche as seen, for example, in a pseudo-relief of the "Master of the Barberini panels," which for the rest, "may very well be by a painter from the Marches who was as familiar with Urbino as with Perugia" (Chastel, Studios and Styles, p. 21, who dates the panels ca. 1470). The figure in question: Fig. 91 below, upper left. Further, it is well known that Perugino tended to use stereotype figures (Hartt, p. 372). By contrast, Botticelli's well-known drawing of Abundance (Fig. 92), which Horne, p. 124, dated to ca. 1482, is an original creation, like his Sistine "nymphs" and like them it has antique roots. 199 were at liberty to introduce motifs all'antica into their work. 366

Something resembling a "cult" of the nymph seems to have existed in ecclesiastical circles in Sistine Rome. In the mid-1470s a set of contemporary verses dealing with a sleeping nymph was recast as an antique inscription. This forgery, apparently due to Sassetti's librarian Bartolommeo

Fonzio, then in Rome, gave rise to a literary topos which enjoyed wide popularity for two centuries. The sudden profusion of the "inscription" in a number of variants is quite striking. 367

An antique statue of a reclining nymph in the garden of Angelo Colocci featured a copy of this inscription. Colocci was in many ways the intellectual heir, as well as the literal beneficiary, of Pomponio Leto

(d. 1498), one of the most illustrious men of letters in

Sistine Rome. 368 The Accademia Pomponiana, a group of poets and humanists which gathered in the house on the

Quirinal which Leta shared with Sixtus' librarian, Platina, was continued after Leto's death under the auspices of

Colocci. Colocci's nymph with her pseudo-antique

366 Above, Chap. 2 Sec. 1

367on the cult: Bober, passim; E. MacDougall, "The Sleeping Nymph: Origins of a Humanist Fountain Type," The Art Bulletin. 57 (1975), 357-365; and o. Kurz, "Huius Nymopha Loci," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 16 {1953), 171-177. 368 Above, at n. 111. 200 inscription formed the centerpiece of these gatherings. 369

HUIUS NYMPHA LOCI. SACRA CUSTODIA FONTIS. DORMIO, DUM BLANDAE SENTIO MURMUR AQUAE. PARCE MEUM, QUISQUIS TANGIS CAVA MARMORA, SOMNUM RUMPERE. SIVE BIBAS SIVE LAVERE TACE. (Nymph of the Grot, these sacred Springs I keep, And to the Murmur of the Waters sleep~ Ah spare my Slumbers, gently tread the Cav17o And drink in silence, or in silence lave!)

The same inscription was carved on a marble fountain base in the garden of Colocci's friend and colleague, the German

Joh ann Gor1tz. or c oryt1us. . 371

Near the residences of Colocci and Goritz in the district of Parione lived Jacopo Galli, whose'upper garden was dominated by a statue of a sleeping nymph. And in the same neighborhood lived Cardinal Rafaello Riario, a nephew of Sixtus IV closely linked with both Galli and Leto. 372 Another of Sixtus' nephews, Cardinal titular of s. Clemente Domenico della Rovere, may also have exhibited the 373 1nscr1pt1on· · ' 1n . h'1s gar d en. Meanw h'l 1 e, the C-es1 . gar d en featured a reclining nymph bearing an abbreviated version

369 Bober, p. 224.

370Alexander Pope's trans., cited in Haskell and Penny, p. 186.

371Bober, p. 226; this was an abbreviated version: NYMPHUS LOCI/BIBE LAVA/TACE/CORITIUS.

372on these relationships, Bober, pp. 228-229.

373Kurz, p. 172, n. 4. 201 of the inscription, while the Carpi garden also included a marble nymph in a grotto. 374

Finally, in 1511 or thereabouts a third nephew of

Sixtus, Pope Julius II, acquired for a fountain in his

Belvedere a statue long know in the Parione district: the

Maffei Ariadne-Cleopatra. This too was an antique statue of a sleeping nymph and the Belvedere installation was conce1ve. d as a m1se . en scene f or a f oun t a1n . nymp h • 375

The verses offered to the statue forcibly recall our inscription and were apparently due to another follower of 376 Leto. A comparison of some of these statues bears out the sense of kinship to which the literary and epigraphic evidence testifies (Figs. 93-95).

Thus the society defined by the nephews of Sixtus

IV and the humanist heirs of Pomponio Leto seems to have cultivated an enthusiasm for antique nymphs. Most of these men established nymphaea on their properties; many of them were friends and colleagues, if not relatives. - The cult of the nymph seems to have extended beyond this circle, if we may judge on the basis of the Cesi and Carpi nymphs. And the roots of this enthusiasm can be traced with some

374 Huelsen, pp. 32, 58. 375 H. Brummer, The Statue Court in the Vatican Belvedere (Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1970), p. 176.

376Bober, p. 231 on Evangelista Fausto Maddaleni di Capodiferro. 202

success back to Pomponio Leto and the pontificate of

Sixtus IV.

If one traces the story of the reclining nymph and/or epigram to a period which antedates the nymphaea of Colocci and Goritz in the second decade of the Cinquecento, it would be possible to sum it all up visually with the 1475 fresco by Melozzo da Forli representing Sixtus IV at the inauguration of the Vatican Library • • • • In the presence of Sixtus' nephews, Platina ••• brings to mind the house he shared • • • with Leto, seat of the Accademia Pompon~a~1? subsequently given over to Angelo Colocc~.

A clue to the possible bearing of these

developments on the 'nymphs" in the Sistine frescoes is

provided by the activities of Goritz, Galli and Cardinal

Riario. These men shaped the cult of Christ, the Virgin and St. Anne at s. Agostino's in Rome; and Riario was Cardinal Protector of the order. This was the setting for

an Augustinian revival which wedded Christian mysticism and humanist culture in a syncretistic fashion. It was in this

context that Michelangelo moved when he first went to Rome;

and it was for Galli that he carved his Bacchus, which

dominated his patron's lower garden as his nymphaea did the

upper garden. 378

A recent study by P. Bober demonstrates the connection between the late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth

277 Bober, p. 229.

378Bober, p. 230; Wind, pp. 177-180 {"A Bacchic Mystery by Michelangelo"), p. 254 and n. 48. 203 century cult of nymphs and the erudite syncretism of the contemporary Augustinian revival. These circles cultivated

an attitude which transcended theological dogmatism, and permitted the assimilation of the Virgin with an antique nymph and genius of a fountain grotto. 379 This

syncretistic tendency may itself have roots in Sistine

Rome. Sixtus promoted with great ardor the cult of the

Virgin. He was the great apostle of the dogma of the

Immaculate Conception and spent long hours sunk in meditation or rapture before the image of the Virgin, and encouraged the dedication of numerous churches to the Holy

Virgin.

It cannot be ruled out entirely that Sixtus' cult of the Virgin is somehow related to the nymph cult which was just then beginning to flourish and in which his nephews and courtiers played such an important role. 380

It is interesting to note in this connection that Colocci's nymph statue was placed in calculated apposition to the

Claudian arch of the Aqua Virgo, 381 for Sixtus had taken in hand the restoration of this famous aqueduct. And it is instructive that the portrait of Sixtus with his nephews and librarian, Leto's housemate Platina, is accompanied by

379Bober, passim.

38°For Sixtus' cult of the Virgin: Pastor, IV 393-395; E. Lee, pp. 42-43, 144.

381Bober, p. 230 204

an inscription praising the pope's provision of a new mostra for the aqueduct. 382

Despite this, it would take a good deal more evidence to demonstrate that Sixtus' veneration of the

Virgin was at the same time an enthusiasm for antique nymphs. This is not to deny that it may have provided the cloak of respectability and theological orthodoxy behind which the Roman nymph cult was able to arise and blossom.

This leaves unsolved the problem of the "meaning" of the "nymphs" in the early Sistine Chapel frescoes. It would clearly be unwise to read into this imagery a secret syncretistic cult in the Curia. It seems best to return to the contexts in which the motif arises in the chapel decoration.

It is curious to note that these "nymphs" occur mainly in the Moses cycle, the sole exception being a scene which seems to deal with an Old Testament sacrificial rite. This may provide the key to the meaning.of the motif. Ettlinger observes that r-toses plays a small part in the Circumcision of Moses' Son (Fig. 89), which contains two nymphs. Zipporah, Moses Gentile wife, performs the circumcision. Ettlinger argues convincingly that in the fresco, as in the Bible commentaries, she is "a typus

382E. Lee, pp. 142-143 on the restoration; Bober, p. 229 on the inscription. 205

Ecclesiae ex Gentilibus," a symbol of the roots of the

Church among the Gentiles. The same is probably true of

Pharaoh's daughter is the neighboring (lost) altar wall fresco of the Discovery of Moses. 383

Like Zipporah, the Egyptian princess and, perhaps, the daughters of Jethro in another of Botticelli's frescoes

(Fig. 15), the maidens could refer to the Gentile origins of the Church. It is interesting to note that the son of 384 Moses and Zipporah was named Gershom, "stranger". The same word occurs in the passage in Deuteronomy which deals 385 with "the stranger among the Israelites." And in the 386 Vulgate this is both times rendered advena. This figure of the stranger in the camp of the Israelites is to be seen in the seminude male in the Sistine fresco depicting the Last Acts and Death of Moses (Fig. 20). And this figure is based on the antique spinario with echoes of 387 the Apollo Belvedere.

In the Circumcision of Moses' Son, the -"nymph" at the left side of the fresco seems to be Zipporah's handmaiden and not a mere canephor. She also seems to be

383Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, pp. 60-61, 58.

384or "sojourner": Exod. 2:22.

385 Deut. 29:11.

386Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, pp. 72-73. 387 Above, at n. 109. 206 carrying the implements of the rite. 388 In Botticelli's scene of an Old Testament sacrifice (Fig. 15) it is the nymph figures who bear the sacrificial animals and the wood for the fire. 389 Finally, in the Crossing of the Red Sea

(Fig. 90) it is the nymph figure who seems to lead the train of the Israelites onward as Moses and others stop to observe the destruction of the army of Pharaoh.

All of this suggests that these figures may have been understood to refer to the Gentile component in the prehistory of Christianity. What seems to be emphasized here, as in so many facets of the chapel decoration, is the' debt of the Church to its heathen ancestry which is throughout contrasted favorably with the Judaic roots of the Church~ 390 Furthermore, the nymphs in the Sistine would appear to belong to a sacramental context. That this is true of

388 Neo-Attic maenads were frequently represented armed with a blade: e.g, Fuchs, Figs. 15-19 and below, Fig. 85; of course, the blade in the fresco is not the tool actually used at the right in the rite, but it may have been retained from the antique models as a reference to the rite.

389oddly, Ettlinger, The Sistine Chapel, p. 80, denies-that these are the instruments of the sacrifice "which is already in progress"--a curiously literal and "fundamentalist" reading of the fresco. The use of continuous narrative is pervasive in the chapel; but this claim is essential for Ettlinger's interpretation of the much-debated imagery of the scene, for which above, Chap. 2, Sec. 1. 390 one wonders how this high estimation of the pagan versus the Judaic roots of Christianity relates to 207

the scenes of circumcision and Old Testament sacrifice is

clear. And both of these scenes seem to be typologically

contrasted with the theme of Christian baptism by water. It is not difficult to see that the deliverance of the

Israelites amid the Red Sea could refer to the doctrine of

salvation by baptism. Thus it would be a mistake to

confine the "meaning" of the nymphs to the immediate

context provided by the frescoes in which they appear. The

typological vectors linking the individual frescoes must be

taken into account. From this perspective it seems

feasible that these figures were intended to recall from an

antique aspect the sacred virtues of water.

the contemporary interest in a pagan "ancient theology" {prisca theologia) on which Yates, Bruno, passim, among a flourishing literature. It is curious to note that the threefold role assigned Moses and Christ in the Sistine frescoes recalls that assigned Hermes Trismegistus in the Corpus Hermeticum. Ficino, who set aside his Platonic translation enterprise to render "Hermes" for Cosimo de' Medici, explained the name as designating Hermes' role as king, priest and philosopher: Yates, Bruno, pp.- 14, 49; for Cosimo and Ficino: Yates, Bruno, pp. 12-13; the Sistine "roles": above, Chap. 2 Sec. 1.The Hermetic writings were a fundamental means for the Renaissance syncretistic program; another was the Jewish body of mystical literature, the Kabbala. When Pico della Mirandola, who first wed Christian, Hermetic and Kabbalistic traditions, went to Rome to proclaim his sythesis in 1486, he was met with animosity. Pico's knowledge of the Kabbala was partly due to translations done for him by "Flavius Mithridates," a converted Jew at Sixtus' court who had gained papal favor via a diatribe against the Jews. This all suggests that after the death of Sixtus in 1484 the Judaic roots of Christianity were still less popular than the pagan roots. For Pico, his translator etc.: G. Scholem, "Zur Geshichte der Anfaenge der Christlichen Kabbala," Essays Presented to Leo Baeck {London: East and West Library, 1954), pp. 158-193. 208

If this is correct, it would provide sufficient ground for merging this baptismal theme with the contemporary enthusiasm for the nymph of the fountain grotto. For it seems clear that an essential element in this rather Dionysian nymph cult was the notion of the sacramental, regenerative power of the waters associated 391 with antique nymphs.

When Pope Julius III moved the Vatican Ariadne-

Cleopatra to the room in the Belvedere known thereafter as the Stanza della Cleopatra, that statue seems for the second time to have been displayed in a setting designed to 392 receive a nymph. What is fascinating is that the decoration of the room was given over to a typological scheme with scenes from the life of Moses and that of

Christ, as in the Sistine Chapel frescoes. And again the contemporary situation of the papacy is highly relevant to the scenes depicted. 393 But, while this cannot be dealt with here, it must be remarked that the overriding theme of the decoration of the room seems to have involved the sacrament of baptism. Mosaic prefigurations of baptism are

· 391Again this is most apparent in the association of a fountain nymph and Sistine Aqua Virgo in the Colocci garden.

392Brummer, p. 257; N. Canedy, "The Decoration of the Stanza della Cleopatra," Essays in the History of Art Presented to Rudolf Wittkower (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), pp. 110-118.

393canedy, pp. 115-118. 209 coupled with New Testament episodes with a similar sense.

Together with the fountain nymph these paintings "indicate how its natural waters may be transformed, through Baptism" (Fig. 96). 394

Thus it may be that the dominant themes of the

Stanza della Cleopatra were already present, albeit less explicitly and perhaps only for initiates, in the Sistine

Chapel. What remains uncertain is Sixtus IV's role in all this. For his part in the nascent Roman nymph cult is unknown. Nor is it known who was responsible for the

"nymphs" in the Sistine Chapel frescoes. 395

394 Brummer, p. 262. 395 It may be felt that the visual disparity between the standing nymphs of the Sistine frescoes and the reclining nymphs so popular in contemporary Rome resists assimilation. But, aside from the syncretistic tendency underlying the cult of the nymph, it is well to recall a passage in which Landino discussed the variety of "nymphs." In his commentary on Horace (Horace,- Opera •••• 1482, p. liii v), Landino wrote: "Nymphs are of many kinds • • • nereids • • • naiads • • • oreads • • • dryads •••• " Landino stresses that these all take their names from the geography they inhabit, but that they are all nymphs--Nymphae haru plura sunt genera. It is possible, moreover, that the imagery of Sixtus' tomb, commissioned by his nephew Juilis II of Antonio Pollaiuolo, represents the merging of these two sorts of nymphs. The figures of the Liberal Arts on the tomb are reclining nymph-like figures all'antica. One of them, in fact, is unquestionably represented as Diana, nude and armed, while also symbolizing Theology. And while the Christian Virtues are mostly shown seated, the pivotal figure of Charity is again reclining like her pagan sisters among the Arts. Ettlinger, "The Tomb," passim, has studied this imagery. He could not discover the source of this turn in Pollaiuolo's style toward a manner all'antica, but if it is due to the nymphs in the Sistine frescoes and the 210 nymph statues of Rome, these figures would reflect a merging of the two visual directions. Unfortunately it could still not be affirmed with any certainty that the tomb's imagery proves Sixtus' own enthusiasm for antique nymphs. The most it might show is, once again, Julius' taste. Appendix B

FROM PURGATORY TO THE PRIMAVERA

Botticelli and Dante

Vasari writes that Botticelli:

wrote a commentary on a part of Dante, and made illustrations to the Inferno and had them printed. This took up much time and the distraction from his w~rk ~~g the cause of infinite disorders in his lJ.fe.

Kenneth Clark, who cites this passage, comments:

As usual with Vasari, a kind of general truth transcends his errors of detail. There is no doubt that for at least twenty years Botticelli was obsessed by the study of Dante. It is unlikely that he wrote a commentary on the Divine Comedy, but at some time before 1480 he made a series of drawings to illustrate it. Nineteen of these were engraved by Baccio Baldini and were used as illustrations to the Inferno in a volume of the Commedia with Cristofaro Landino's comme~g1ry which was printed by Nicholas Alamanus in 1481.

Landino was the resident authority on Dante in

Medicean Florence and one of the leading humanists attached

396vasari-Milanesi, III, 317 (quoted in Clark's trans., The Drawings, pp. 8-9).

397clark, The Drawings, pp. 8-9.

211 212

to t h e M e d 1c1. . c1rc . 1 e. 398 This deluxe edition of Dante

with illustrations and commentary was commissioned for

Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici, who some years later

also commissioned the Primavera and Pallas and the Centaur 399 from Botticelli. Botticelli's drawings for this

publication have not survived, but a later set of such

drawings from his hand has. This is the volume to which a

pre-Vasarian source refers. Botticelli, according to the

so-called Anonimo Gaddiano:

painted and illustrated a Dante on sheepskin for Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco Medici, which was held to 4g • be something marvellous. 0

As Clark observes, the reference to carte pecora proves

that the Anonimo is referring to the large dra~;vings on

vellum, which are indeed "something marvellous." 401 This

passage shows that this series of drawings was also

39 8 A recent d.1scuss1on ' o f L and. 1no 1s. 1n . - M. Baxandall, Painting and Experience in Fifteenth Century Italy (1972; rpt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976), pp. 115-151.

399Gombrich, "Botticelli' s t-fythologies," p. 60; Lightbown, I, 56. Horne first demonstrated that Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco was Botticelli's major patron for twenty years. He also offers a lengthy discussion of Botticelli's work on Dante, pp. 189-255.

400cited in Clark's trans., The Drawings, p. 8. The Anonimo Gaddiano or Anonimo Magliabecchiano: K. Frey, Il Codice Magliabecchiano cl.XVII.17 (1892; rpt. Farnborough: Gregg, 1969). Horne, pp. 343-344, Doc. II, prints the passages concerning Botticelli.

401clark, The Drawings, p. 8. 213

commissioned for Lorenzo. Clark dates these drawings to the 1490s, sometime between the death of Lorenzo de' Medici in 1492 and the end of the century. 402

It has been denied that the Baldini engravings in the 1481 edition of Dante are based on drawings by

Botticelli.403 That they are is proven by the fact that a number of motifs found in Baldini's rather poor engravings recur in the later series of Botticelli . 404 d raw1.ngs. It is surely unthinkable that Botticelli should have turned to the Baldini engravings for inspiration in the 1490s, since, to judge by the fact that the engravings stop abruptly less than two thirds of the way through the Inferno, Baldini's work was from the first found unsatisfactory. Furthermore, the engravings contain passages that clearly recall groups in the Sistine frescoes of Botticelli. 405 And there is Vasari's testimony, cited above.

402clark, The Drawings, p. 10; Horne, p. 251.

403Ettlinger, Botticelli, pp. 185-186, while allowing that "perhaps their models were Botticelli's first attempt at Dante illustration, abandoned when he left for Rome." 404 clark, The Drawings, p. 9; Horne, pp. 194-203.

405clark, The Drawings, p. 9. 214

Soon after Dante completed his poem artists began

to illustrate its episodes. 406 Thus Botticelli's two

sets of illustrations as well as his twenty-year

"obsession" with Dante were products of a long, honorable

tradition in Italian art. Clark has shown that Botticelli

must have known, already in 1480, what is perhaps the most

beautiful illustrated Dante in existence: the brilliantly

painted Codex in the British Museum bequeathed by Mrs.

Yates-Thompson. 407 This volume was painted by two hands

in Siena between 1440 and 1450. The illustrator of the

Inferno and Purgatorio has been variously identified as

Lorenzo Vecchieta and Priamo della Quercia~ that of the

Paradiso was Giovanni di Paolo. 408

Clark stresses the seriousness with which

Botticelli approached the task of translating Dante's

poetry into visual images:

We cannot doubt that he took it seriously. His obsession with the subject is recorded convincingly by Vasari. • • • He was an earnest student of the King of Dante commentators, Landino, and probably many details in the drawings are inspired by Landino's

406 P. Br1eger,. M. Me1ss. an d c. S1ng . 1 eton, Illuminated Manuscripts of the Diving Comedy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), I, 35.

407clark, The Drawings, p. 16.

408J. Pope-Hennessy, A Sienese Codex of the Divine Comedy (London: Phaidon, 1947), pp. 7-35 (pp. 17-20 on vecchietta); Brieger et al., I, 70-80 (Priamo della Quercia). 215

commentaries. In face of all this evidence we must ~eject the ju~gements o~ 9ritics who treat Botticelli's 1magery as un1mportant. 0

The frightful subject matter of the Inferno and much of the

Purgatorio was often understated in illustrations. 410

Botticelli's surviving illustrations, in contrast, are

graphic in their delineation of the grimmest episodes.

This must have been even truer of his first set of

illustrations, which in general appear, on the basis of

Baldini's copies, to have been more dramatic and

intense. 411

The last cantos of the Purgatorio mark a stark

change in setting, tone and imagery in Dante's poem. Dante

and his guide, the Augustan poet Virgil, have passed

through the circles of Hell, ascended Mt. Purgatory and

reached the Earthly Paradise, Eden, at its summit. There

they encounter a sacred grove through which two rivers run,

Lethe v.Thich washes away all memory of sin, and- Eunoe which

restores the memory of all good deeds.

409clark, The Drawings, p. 16; Horne, p. 193: "From the studies of • • • Landino .. .. • Botticelli doubtless derived no little assistance." His "drawings •• • show an acquaintance with the poem, which would have been remarkable in any scholar of his day'* (p .. 251). 410 clark, The Drawings, pp. 12-15. 411clark, The Drawings, p. 9. 216

In Canto xxvii, Dante, Virgil and the Roman poet

Statius, \'lho has joined them, rest for the night on the

stairway leading up to the Earthly Paradise. At dawn,

Dante beholds in a dream two maidens in a meadow. One of

them, gathering flowers, identifies herself as the biblical

Leah and her companion as her sister Rachel, who sits still

in the grass before a mirror. Dante awakes and the poets

continue their ascent to the Earthly Paradise.

In the next canto, Dante and his companions are met by a lady, Matelda, gathering flowers and singing as she

walks through the trees and meadows of the Earthly

Paradise. In response to Dante's query, Matelda explains

the nature of the place, where flowers bloom without seed

and waters need no replenishing. She further explains the

meaning of the two rivers and informs Dante that when

ancient poets, dreaming on Mount Parnassus, sang of a

Golden Age and its happy state, they were thinking of the

Earthly Paradise where she dwells. At this Virgil and

Statius smile. That is the last Dante sees of the poets.

With these two cantos, the setting of the narrative passes from the barren, rocky desolation of Mt. Purgatory to the "divine forest, dense and living" of the Earthly

Paradise of Canto xxviii. 412 While the events of the

412 Dante Al'1g h. 1er1, ' T h e D.1v1ne ' Corne d y, t rans. C • Singleton, II:1 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 217

previous canto are set outside Paradise, its imagery is

prefigured in that of Dante's dream, even as Matelda is

prefigured in the figure of Leah. Leah is described as a

"young and beautiful lady • • • walking through a meadow gathering flowers"; and Matelda is described in similar

terms as "a lady all alone singing and picking flowers,

with which all her way was painted." 413

These two cantos were early recognized as

intimately connected, and this is indicated by the way they

are illustrated in the Sienese Codex mentioned above. The

artist (Fig. 64) combines the two cantos into one scene.

In the left half of the miniature the three poets are shown

sleeping in a compact group, huddled on the ground. To

their right is represented Dante's dream: Rachel, seated

frontally on the grass, and Leah, gathering flowers to the

right and in front of Rachel. On the right side of the painting the poets again appear in a compact group, this time standing in a close circle, as Matelda at their right discourses to Dante and welcomes him to the Earthly

Paradise. Meanwhile an angel descends from among the treetops to remove from Dante's brow the last of the seven

1973), Purgatorio xxviii.2. All quotations from Dante are from this edition, which gives the Italian and a prose trans. on facing pages, with commentary in companion vols. 413 Purg. XXV11... 97 - 99 • 218

"P's" placed there as symbols of the seven deadly sins.

Thus Dante's purgation is confirmed.

The Sienese Codex appears to be unique in introducing a total change of setting in illustration of these cantos. Conventionally, the background of illustrations of the Earthly Paradise was still given over to the rocky landscape of Purgatory, the "divine forest" being more or less evocatively suggested in the foreground. In the Siena version there is a background of

"trees with luscious foliage and the ground is a carpet of 414 flowers."

Botticelli's surviving illustrations to these two cantos remain closer to the narrative. Rachel and Leah are not shown, since they appear only to Dante, and Botticelli eschews the Sienese artist's combination of the two cantos into one illustration. On the other hand, the Sienese painter is closer to the poetry of the original in his natural imagery: His forest is indeed "dense and living" while that of Botticelli is more suggested than shown (Fig. 97).415

The possibility remains that Botticelli's drawings may show the impact of the Sienese version which, as noted,

414Brieger et al., I, 177.

415clark, The Drawings, p. 21. 219

he knew even in 1480. Thus Botticelli, like the artist of

the Sienese Codex, departs from tradition in excluding from

his drawing of the Earthly Paradise all reference to the

desolate topography of Mt. Purgatory: His "divine forest"

fills the entire page. At the same time, the figure of

Matelda at the right of Botticelli's drawing forcibly

recalls that of Leah in the Codex; the figures are

identical in their posture but reversed in direction.

Unfortunately it is impossible to say whether the

illustrations to these cantos in Botticelli's first set of

drawings also agreed in these respects with the Sienese

Codex. 416 Conceivably they did, in which case the

parallels in his later drawings may be an echo of

Botticelli's study of the Codex in connection with his

first attempt to illustrate these cantos of the poem ca.

1480. But whatever the influence of the Sienese miniature

on Botticelli's illustrations of Dante, it did provide a model for Botticelli in designing his Primavera, as shown

in Chapter Five above. That not merely the composition of the Sienese miniature resembles that of the Primavera, but that their imagery is also strikingly similar, is due above all to their parallels in subject matter. The Primavera

416 Because Botticelli's drawings are lost and the engravings end with Inferno xvii. 220

marks a transition in Botticelli's oeuvre from dramatic

narrative to idyllic pastoral. Cantos xxvii-xxviii of the

Purgatorio, which are illustrated in the miniature, signal

an analogous change in the Divine Comedy.

Both the miniature and the Primavera are set in a 417 wooded glen on a mountain summit. In both the field

of vision is curtained off by a grove of thick trees and

foliage. The figures are concentrated in a foreground

strip of flower-strewn lawn. Both scenes are redolent with

the imagery of Spring. Nor is this fortuitous. As seen,

Matelda tells Dante in Canto xxviii that it was of this

place that the ancient poets dreamed and sang in

celebrating a lost Golden Age:

Quelli ch'anticamente poetaro l'eta de l'oro e suo stato felice, forse in Parnaso esto loco sognaro. Qui fu innocente l'umana radice; qui primavera sempre e ogne frutto; nettare e questo di che ciascun dice.

(They who in olden times sang of the Age of Gold and its happy state perhaps in Parnassus dreamed of this place. Here the root of mankind was innocent; here is always spring, ifid every fruit; this is the nectar of which each tells.) 4

417That this is seemingly true of the Primavera was first observed by Lightbown, I, 74, who remarks that there is just a suggestion of "depths" in the background to the right and left of the hedge curtaining off the scene.

418Purg. xxviii.139-144. In the balance of this discussion Dante's Italian will be quoted in the text when his precise language is important to the argument. In all such cases a very close paraphrase or, more often, 221

Qui primavera sempre, Here Spring is eternal. In

this passage as in so many which define the imagery of

these cantos, Dante draws on the "antique poets" who have

been so often invoked to account for the imagery of

Bott1ce. 11'' 1 s Pr1mavera.. 419

The similarities between Botticelli's imagery and

that of Dante and his Sienese illustrator extend beyond

their common sylvan setting and the vernal imagery of

flowers and meadows. As seen, Flora in the Primavera

echoes Leah in the miniature both formally and in that both

maidens scatter or gather flowers as they go. Botticelli,

of course, has not slavishly copied the miniature: Flora

strides forward while Leah stoops to pick a flower from a

similar angle and position in the composition. But

consider Dante's description of Leah. In a dream Dante

beholds "a lady young and beautiful going through a meadow 420 gathering flowers and" singing. This passage does not

stand alone. In Canto xxviii Matelda is described in

Singleton's translation will accompany it. Another reason for citing the original: while this trans. is very accurate, the "poetry" of the original is itself relevant to the discussion. 419 Below, Appendix c. 420Purg. xxvii.97-99, already quoted above. 222

similar terms as Dante encounters her in the Earthly

Paradise: e la m'apparve, si com' elli appare subitamente cosa che disvia per maraviglia tutto altro pensare, una donna soletta che si gia e cantando e scegliendo fior da fiore ond' era pinta tutta la sua via.

(And there appeared to me there,as appears of a sudden a thing that for wonder drives away every other thought,a lady all alone, who went singing and culling flower fr~~ flower, with which all her path was. painted.) 1

Dante's image (Matelda's way is painted with flowers) is certainly true of the Flora of the Primavera; and one might imagine that artists inspired by Dante, including Botticelli, were moved by this passage--moved, perh aps, t o 1 end 1t. su b stance. 422

The parallels in imagery between the Sienese miniature, the Primavera and Dante's poetry suggest an intriguing possibility. May not the Sienese miniature and the passages which it illustrates have come to Botticelli's mind because he himself had not long before illustrated these very passages? The transitional character of the last c·antos of the Purgatorio could scarcely have been lost on so sensitive a student of Dante. One can well imagine

421 Purg. XXV111.. . . 37 - 42 •

422rs this not true of the lawn in the Primavera? 223

that, in pondering the problem posed by the Primavera,

Botticelli immediately thought of the similar problem posed by these passages in the Divine Comedy. For Botticelli had already faced a situation calling for a complete change in imagery, tone and setting when, sometime before 1480, he produced his first set of Dante drawings. As a narrator, the pictorial solution adopted by the Sienese master may not have satisfied Dotticelli. This is suggested by his later drawings for this portion of the poem, and it is what one would expect in view of his concern with narrative drama. 423 But the Sienese miniature provided just the solution Botticelli required for the emphatically undramatic Primavera.

423Horne, p. 252: In his Dante illustrations Botticelli "impresses us more vividly than elsewhere with • • • the variety and dramatic expressiveness of his attitudes and gestures." For the rest, Pope-H~nnessy, p. 18, writes that the illustrator of the Inferno and Purgatorio in the Sienese Codex was "the possessor of a narrative talent second to none in fifteenth-century Siena" which might account for Botticelli's use of the manuscript in the first place. It is not these qualities which led previous students of Botticelli to sense Sienese influences in his art: T. Yuen, "New Aspects of Botticelli's Late Works:. A Suggestion for the Dating of the Dante Illustrations and Francesco di Giorgio's Influence," Marsyas. 12 (1964-65), 22-53. As so often, Mesnil's words are to the point (Botticelli, p. 189): "The question of links between the art of Botticelli and the Sienese school awaits solution. But • • • one can affirm • • • that Botticelli has not imitated, but that he has assimilated, elaborated, recreated." Perhaps the suggestions made in the text help resolve this question. 224

Venturi wrote of Botticelli's second set of

illustrations to these cantos of the Purgatorio that:

the Primavera, the Birth of Venus ••• come to mind before this exquisite dream, which with delicate lines, incised subtly as with a diamond on crystal, forms, w~t~ poe~~~ license, the forest, in Dante "dense and l~v~ng."

Venturi deserves credit for sensing the kinship of

Botticelli's "allegorical masterpieces" with the imagery of 425 the canto di Matelda. And, as seen, this forest in

Botticelli's late drawing is certainly executed with

"poetic license" insofar as it is not as "dense and living"

as either Dante's "divina foresta, spesso e vivo," the

Sienese painter's grove or that of the Primavera. But

Venturi is one of those critics castigated by Clark: He is

more interested in Botticelli's "lines, incised subtly as

with a diamond on crystal" than in his imagery.

To summarize, the parallels between the Primavera

and the Sienese miniature in compositional format and

424 A. venturi, Il Botticelli interprete di Dante (Florence: Le Monier, 1921), p. 99. 425 venturi, p. 9. Similarly, Y. Batard asks in passing: Could the figure of Flora in the Primavera, "Botticelli's florid dancer" be inspired by Dante? "At the moment when Botticelli painted her for Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco, he drew the illustrations for the Comedy": Dante, Minerve et Apollon: les images de la Divine Comedie (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1952), p. 431, n. 9. But Batard does not take up this question in her edition of Les dessins de Sandre Botticelli pour la Divine Comedie (Paris: Perrin, 1952). Clearly, such asides cannot confirm the connection suggested here. 225

imagery, in the setting, arrangement, appearance and action of the figures, strongly suggests that the two are intimately connected. And the further parallels to their imagery provided by the passages in Dante illustrated in the Sienese miniature render it quite likely that

Botticelli had this poetry in mind when painting the

Primavera. The above reconstruction of the historical situation explains why Botticelli might have thought of

Dante and his illustrators in creating the Primavera. The problem and the puzzle posed by this commission were of a sort faced by all illustrators of Dante. And for twenty years or so Botticelli was a most devoted Dante illustrator.

The claim that the composition of the Primavera was conceived on the basis of the Sienese illustration to

Cantos xxvii-xxviii of the Purgatorio, and the suggestion that the imagery of Botticelli's mythology has been influenced by the same miniature as well as the poetry it illustrates, are independent. They do, however, mutually support and corroborate one another. 226

The Iconography of the Primavera

The text of Cantos xxvii-xxviii of the Purgatorio

is rich with allusions to classical mythology. 426 This

use of mythological allusions, while not unique to these

passages of the poem, is especially characteristic of them;

and it complements Dante's practice in these cantos of

paraphrasing classical poets. Dante's mythological

allusions would appear to be echoed by the iconography of

Botticelli's Primavera.

Venus is three times alluded to or named. When, in

Canto xxviii, Dante first beholds Matelda, he addresses her

as follows: "fair lady, who do warm yourself at love's

beams" (bella donna, che ~ raggi d'amore I ti ') 427 sea ld ~ • This allusion to the goddess of love refers in turn to a passage in the previous canto. The dream in which Dante beholds Rachel and Leah occurs at dawn "in the

hour" when Venus Cytherea "who seems always burning with the fire of love, first shone [raggio] on the mountain from

the east":

Ne l'ora, credo, che de l'oriente prima raggio nel monde Citerea, 428 che di foco d'amor par sempre ardente •••

426Brieger et al, I, 177.

427Purg. xxviii.43-44.

428Purg. xxvii.94-96. 227

A third allusion to Venus occurs in Canto xxviii once again, and again in connection with Dante's encounter with Matelda. Dante calls to Matelda as she gathers flowers in the meadow and asks her to approach. "As in a dance a lady turns with feet close to the ground and to each other, and hardly sets foot before foot, she turned upon the red and yellow flowerets toward me, like a virgin that lowers her modest eyes." Matelda raises her eyes to the poet and:

Non credo che splendesse tanto lume sotto le ciglia a Venere, trafitta dal figlio fuor di tutto suo costume.

(I do not believe that so great a light shone forth under the eyelids of Ven~2' transfixed by her son against all his custom.)

This description of Hatelda's motion, turning "as in a dance a lady turns with feet close" together invites comparison with the stance and bearing of Venus in the

Primavera, as does the reference to Matelda's lowered eyes that, once raised, "shine forth"; for the eyes of

Botticelli's Venus are lowered yet directed at the beholder. Meanwhile, the allusion in this passage to Cupid shooting his mother by accident recalls Botticelli's Cupid who aims a dart, not at Venus "against all his custom" of course, but at one of the Graces to her left.

429 Purg. XXV~~~.. . . 52 - 66 • 228

Dante's first address to Matelda in Canto xxviii contains still other allusions to classical mythology. He says that the "fair lady" who warms herself "at love's beams" reminds him of Proserpina when seized by Pluto as she gathered flowers with her mother, who thus lost her as she lost the Spring:

Tu mi fai remembrar dove e qual era Proserpina nel tempo che perdett~ la madre lei, ed ella primavera. 30

(You make me recall where and what Proserpina was at the time her mother lost her, and she the spring.)

The rape of Proserpina is only one of three classical episodes of erotic pursuit alluded to in connection with Dante's initial encounter with Matelda.

While none of these seems to be illustrated in the

Primavera, Wind has suggested that, since Proserpina was pictured as strewing flowers upon her return every Spring, an echo of that myth was originally intended to be seen in the progression from Zephyr to Flora at the right of the . . 431 pa1.nt1.ng.

Botticelli's group does not correspond exactly with the classical literary source upon which it probably draws,

430Purg. xxviii.49-51. 431w· d l.n ' pp. 130-131. 229

432 Ovid's Fasti (v.195-222). Ovid identifies Chloris

with Flora and therefore does not include both figures in 433 the scene of Chloris' rape by Zephyr. In the Primavera, Chloris is abducted in the company of Flora;

thus Botticelli's group is in a sense closer to Dante's

allusion to the rape of Proserpina which stresses how her

mother lost her just as she lost the Spring.

Dante's allusion is based on Ovid's account of the

rape of Proserpina in his Metamorphoses (v.385ff.), and

Ovid too stresses that the "terrified girl called

plaintively to her mother" (396-398). 434 Conceivably,

the group in the Primavera draws on both Ovidian episodes.

For not only do both passages concern the rape of a maiden by a god in springtime, but rhetorically, too, they invite comparison. Thus Chloris in the Fasti (207) says: "I enjoy

432warburg, "Sandra Botticellis," pp. 32-33; Dempsey, pp. 259-260, Lightbown, I, 79-80 still accept the relevance of Ovid's verses first adduced by Warburg.

433wind, p. 116, explains the dual presence of Chloris-Flora as a scene of transformation, "a metamorphosis in Ovid's style," a notion which Dempsey, p. 260, accepts, seemingly because it resolves a philological rebus. But Ovid's verses simply say that Chloris came to be called Flora in Latin, not that she was transformed into the latter.

434ovid, Metamorphoses, trans. F. Miller (Loeb Classical Library) (2d ed. 1921; rpt. London: Heinemann, 1971). That Dante's verses are based on Ovid's is recognized by all commentators from Landino to Singleton. The former: Spositione, p. 301r; Singleton: Dante, ed. cit., II.2 671. 230

Spring eternally" (~ fruor semper); while Ovid (Met. v.391) says of the meadow whence Proserpina was snatched that "there Spring is eternal" (perpetuum ver est). Thus

Wind may have been correct in his impression that the group of Zephyr, Chloris and Flora in the Primavera recalls, and was intended to recall, the myth of Proserpina, although he does not adduce the evidence presented here.

If this is indeed the case, then Dante may have provided the rhetorical and poetic bridge that led

Botticelli to borrow from both Ovidian passages for the group in the Primavera. For, as seen, the rhetorical conceit that somewhere Spring endures forever also figures in this passage of the Purgatorio. "Here Spring is eternal," says Matelda to the poet: gui primavera sempre

(xxvii.143); and here, as throughout this portion of the poem, Dante is paraphrasing Ovid's Metamorphoses, in this case nearly literally. An ear attuned to the classics could scarcely have missed Dante's debt to Ovid, or the poetic and rhetorical kinship between this passage in Dante and the two Ovidian episodes. And the triad in the

Primavera appears to have been created by weaving together the two Ovidian accounts under the guidance of Dante.

While Dante alludes to Cupid's accidental shooting of Venus, the Cupid of the Primavera aims a bolt at one of the Graces to Venus's left. The Graces are not mentioned 231

in the cantos under consideration. But in Canto xxxi Dante is made to join the dance of four maidens who call themselves "nymphs" (ninfe) just prior to his encounter with three further maidens who, "showing themselves by their bearing to be of a higher order, came forward, dancing to their angelic roundelay" (130ff.). These maidens pray Beatrice, the goal of Dante's aspirations:

"turn your holy eyes upon your faithful one. • • • For grace do us the grace ••• " (per grazia fa noi grazia

[133ff.]). 435 Dante's three maidens who dance to a

"roundelay" and invoke Beatrice by "grace" are strikingly similar to Botticelli's three Graces who dance in a circle in the presence of Venus. And Dante's rhetorical linking of "nymphs" and "grazia" may have suggested the classical text which is usually thought to have inspired Botticelli's

Graces.

The three Graces of the Primavera have roots in one of Horace's Odes (i.30) which invokes "the Graces, with girdles all unloosed, and the Nymphs" (Gratiae zonis properentgue Nymphae). This coupling of Graces with nymphs is even more evident in a second ode (i.4) which probably

435Dante's dancing maidens are figures of the four cardinal and three theological virtues: c. Singleton, Dante Studies (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1958), II, 159-183. 232

also contributed to the imagery of the Primavera. This ode describes "the comely Graces linked ~lith Nymphs"

(iunctaegue Nymphis Gratiae decentes). 436

The fact that Botticelli's painting does not include nymphs along with the Graces has troubled the philologists who accept the influence of Horace on the 437 painting. Dante may once again have the solution to this problem. His three dancing maidens who summon

Beatrice by "grace" show themselves, as seen, to be "of a higher order" than the four "nymphs" who precede them.

Perhaps this occasioned the exclusion of Horace's nymphs from the Primavera.

The inclusion of Dante among the literary sources of the imagery of the Primavera, far from complicating the discussion of the question, resolves at least some of the difficulties and inconsistencies that have beset this study. Thus the suggestion that Botticelli's triad of

Zephyr, Chloris and Flora was conceived under the influence

436Horace, Odes, trans. H. Bennett (Loeb Classical Library) (1921; rpt. London: Heinemann, 1957). These two poems were, again, first adduced by Warburg, "Sandro Botticellis," pp. 40-41 (Ode i.30) and p. 40, n. 3 (Ode i.4, tangentially related to the painting). Both suggestions still accepted by Dempsey, pp. 257-258. All Horace quotes from this ed.

437warburg, "Sandre Botticellis," p. 41; Dempsey, p. 259. " . 233

of Dante's allusion to the myth of Proserpina accounts for the manner in which this group mixes two passages from

Ovid. Similarly, Dante's use of "nymphs" and, figuratively, "grace" in connection with his group of three dancing maidens may have suggested the use of Horace's two descriptions of nymphs and Graces as a basis for the triad of Graces in Botticelli's painting, as well as the exclusion of Horace's nymphs from it.

It has often been felt that Mercury is somehow out . 438 o f p 1 ace among t h e verna 1 company o f t h e Pr1mavera.

But he figures along with Venus, the Graces and nymphs in one of the Odes of Horace just discussed (i.30). And while

Mercury is not mentioned in the last cantos of the

Purgatorio, a metaphor used twice in close succession by

Matelda in Canto xxviii should be recalled. Matelda explains in this passage the nature of the Earthly

Paradise. In her own words she proposes to "dispel the cloud" from the "minds" of the poets (disnebbiar vostro intelletto [81]). And again: "I will clear away the mist that offends you" (purghero la nebbia che ti fiede [90]).

438 Panofsky, p. 193; Wind, pp. 121-127; Dempsey, p. 255 seeks a justification for Mercury's presence that is farfetched but rightly cites Horace's Ode i.30 as relevant, as it powerfully terminates with Mercury (pp. 255, 258-259, n. 37). 234

May not this reiterated metaphor of dispelling the

cloud from the mind have suggested the curious role of

Mercury in the Primavera? For the deity who symbolizes the

mind stands aside from the Graces, idly "dispelling" a 439 cloud that lingers among the treetops. It should be recalled that the figure of Mercury in the Primavera is the

compositional equivalent of Matelda in the Sienese

miniature, and that as Matelda addresses Dante, promising

to dispel the cloud from his mind, so does Botticelli

establish a visual bond between the foremost of the Graces

and the figure of Mercury dispelling the wisp of cloud

above him.

The two odes of Horace discussed here also include

references· to Venus, Cupid and Mercury:

0 Venus, regina Cnidi Paphique, sperne dilectam Cypron et vocantis ture te multo Glycerae decoram transfer in aedem.

Fervidus tecum puer et solutis Gratiae zonis properentque Nymphae et parum comis sine te Iuventas Mercuriusque.

(0 Venus, queen of Cnidos and of Paphos, forsake thy beloved Cyprus and betake thyself to the fair shrine of Glycera, who summons thee with bounteous incense! And with thee let hasten thy ardent child; the Graces too, with girdles all unloosed, the Nymphs, and Youth, unlovely without thee, and Mercury!)

Thus Ode i.30. Its counterpart, Ode i.4, refers to Zephyr

in addition, while also calling Venus by her epithet which

439panofsky, p. 194 and n. 2 on the singularity of this. 235

recalls her birth, Cytherea, as does Dante in Canto xxvii . . d b 440 o f t h e Purga t or~o, c~te a ove.

Thus between them two passages from Ovid's Fasti

and Metamorphoses and two of Horace's Odes account for all

the figures in the Primavera. The same is true of the classical allusions and rhetorical devices of the final cantos of the Purgatorio. The chain of causation resulting

in the imagery of the painting would seem to be that

Dante's poetry recalled to some humanist scholar the texts of Ovid and Horace and these classical texts were then composed under Dante's influence; the result was the

specific imagery of the Primavera.

To summarize, the same passages in Dante which, directly or indirectly, contributed so much to the composition and imagery of the Primavera also appear to have suggested the use of those same classical texts on which it has long been felt to be based. And-the peculiarities of the painting which are not to be found in these classical sources are explicable in terms of their recasting under Dante's influence.

Thus there is evidence that the composition, imagery and even the iconography of the Primavera were

440 Above, n. 428. 236

conceived under the influence of the final cantos of

Dante's Purgatorio and that of their Sienese illustrator.

The evidence for each of these claims is independent, but

taken together, they seem compelling.

Program and Patronage

The influence of Dante's Sienese illustrator on the

Primavera's composition and imagery, even the influence of

Dante's poetry on the vernal imagery of the painting, could

be accounted for solely in terms of the artist's own

preoccupation with Dante and the challenge the Primavera

commission presented. The same does not seem to be true,

however, of Dante's influence upon the iconography of the

Primavera.

Such an influence would be improbable if it were

not known that the Primavera was painted for Lorenzo di

P1er• f rancesco d e 1 Me d'1c1. • 441 For he also commissioned

both the 1481 edition of Dante, with engravings based on

.Botticelli's initial set of drawings for the poem, as well 442 as the later set of illustrations which has survived.

Would one not be justified in speaking of an "obsession"

with Dante on the part of Botticelli's patron as well? The

441 Above, Chap. 5 Sec. 3.

442Above, at nn. 420, 423 237

patron, after all, had an abiding interest in Dante and

Dante illustration. It is also interesting that Landino,

one of the outstanding humanists of the Medici circle and

the teacher of Angelo Poliziano, whose name has so often

been linked with the Primavera, contributed an extensive

commentary in the vernacular to the 1481 edition of the

Divine Comedy. As seen, Botticelli's illustrations to the

poem probably reflect the artist's knowledge of Landino's 443 commentary.

The question remains: What was the program behind

the Dantesgue iconography of the Primavera? All of Dante's mythological allusions cited above occur in visionary 444 contexts. The first of the three allusions to Venus

cited above occurs in connection with Dante's dream of

Leah. This dream came to the poet "in the hour" when Venus

"Cytherea, who seems always burning with the fire of love, first shown on the mountain from the east." Like Horace in

Ode i.4, Dante names Venus in her most virginal character, after the place where she emerged from the sea. And

Landino, in his commentary on the passage in Dante,

443 Above , n • 4 3 0 • 444on Dante's visions: c. Speroni, "Dante's Prophetic Morning Dreams," Studies in Philology. 45 (1948), 50-59; R. Hollander, Allegory in Dante's Commedia (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), pp. 136-191. 238

explicitly calls the poet's dream a "vision" . . ) 445 {Vl.Sl.One •

As seen, this "vision" of Leah prefigures the

poet's initial vision of Matelda, described in the

following canto, and the relationship between the two

passages is made quite explicit in that Venus is alluded to

again in connection with Matelda. Moreover, Dante's

descriptions of the two flower-gathering maidens are

comparable in imagery, while the link between the two

passages even finds expression in the choice of words.

Thus the vision of Leah carne when Venus first shone

{raggio) on Mt. Purgatory, while Dante addresses Matelda as

"fair lady, who do warm yourself at love's beams" {raggi

d'amore).

Dante's second and third allusions to Venus, his

allusion to the myth of Proserpina and his rhetorical

figure of dispelling the clouds of the mind, all occur in

the context of his first vision of Matelda. Finally,

Dante's figurative use of "nymphs" and "grace" in Canto xxxi also occur in a visionary context: It is Beatrice, the goal of Dante's desires, whom the "nymphs" invoke "by grace"·:

445Landino, Spositione, p. 296v. 239

"Volgi, Beatrice, volgi li occhi santi," . .era . . la. sua. . canzone,. . . . . "al. . tuo. .fedele . . . .••• . . Per grazia fa noi grazia che disvele a lui la • • • • • • • • • belezza che tu cele."

("Turn, Beatrice, turn your holy eyes upon your faithful one,'' was their song • For grace do us the grace 4~ unveil to him your • • • beauty which you conceal.") 6

Thus all of the classical allusions and rhetorical figures which have been discussed occur in visionary contexts. The

final one figures in this invocation of Beatrice by the

"nymphs." It will be recalled that Horace's Ode i.30, cited above in connection with the imagery of this passage,

is also a poem which invokes a lady, in this case Venus, 44 a 1 ong w1t. h t h e at h er go d s w h o f'1gure 1n. t h e Pr1mavera. . 7

Of the four classical texts which contributed to the 448 imagery of the Primavera, this is the most important.

446Purg. xxxi.133-138.

447It is perhaps unlikely that anyone-in Botticelli's circle would have recognized that Horace is here strikingly more elevated and solemn than the Greek epigram he seems to have adapted: E. Fraenkel, Horace (1957; rpt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966), pp. 197-198. But Poliziano did know "that the Latin poets--whose works were his primary interest--had drawn heavily on Greek sources": A. Grafton, "Scholarship of Politian," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 40 (1977), 172. On the other hand, Landino in his commentary on Horace (1482) does not remark the solemn tone of these two odes: Horace, Opera, pp. xvi r and lii v.

448warburg, "Sandra Botticellis," pp. 40-41; Dempsey, p. 253 (implicitly). That the passage from Ovid's Fasti has Chloris speaking in the first person is perhaps significant. 240

The background provided by Landino, and particularly his reference to the dream of Leah as a vision, may shed new light on Botticelli's use of the

Sienese illustration as a compositional model. For a striking feature of the miniature is that its central portion is devoted to the figures of Rachel and Leah as they appear to Dante in his "vision." This could scarcely have been lost on Botticelli, since in his own later illustration of this passage he chose not to depict the dream imagery. Botticelli, unlike the Sienese painter, remained close to the narrative and did not permit the b e h o lder t o s h are the poet ' s v1s1on. . . 449

Thus the visual and literary sources of the

Primavera are all of a visionary sort. This is true of the

Sienese miniature and of the verses in Dante which it illustrates, especially as interpreted by Landino; and it is true of Horace's Ode i.30. This visionary quality which the Primavera shares with its sources may hold the clue to the program of the painting.

Speaking of visions in this connection raises the question of the influence of Neo-Platonism on Botticelli's work. ·Landino's commentary, which stresses the visionary element in the Purgatorio, is often said to be

449Above, at n. 436, and Fig. 101. 241

"Neo-Platonic." Much depends, of course, on the meaning

assigned to this term. But it is surely interesting that

Ficino, the dean of Florentine Neo-Platonists whom Gombrich

sought to link with the Primavera, was of the opinion that

classical myths prefigure allegorically the Christian

Purgatory. 450 More important than labels is the way

Botticelli and his patron understood the visionary sequence at the end of the Purgatorio which provided the starting point for the program of the Primavera. Landino's commentary is most informative on this score. Landino, in commenting on the fact that Venus is rising when Dante receives his vision of Leah in Canto xxvii, refers back to his comments on the initial canto of the Purgatorio. For as Dante enters Purgatory Venus is ascendent also. In this connection Landino writes that Dante is here announcing programmatically that "celestial Venus leads him."

Landino's reasoning is astrological: The sun being at that time in Aries, Venus was ascending in Pisces just prior to the sun. Pisces is the "house of Jove" in which planets

450Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," pp. 39-49, relied upon a date ca. 1477 for the Primavera. On Ficino~ A. Chastel, Art et humanisme a Florence au temps de Laurent le Magnifique (2d ed.; Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1961), pp. 120, 448 (below, Appendix B). The standard discussion of Renaissance Neo-Platonism is still N. Robb, Neoplatonism of the Renaissance (London: Allen and Unwin, 1935), but the literature is immense. 242

"induce chastity, justice and religion." Therefore Venus

in this sign is "celestial and not terrestrial." 451

This is the crux of Landino's long-winded exegesis. It suggests that in basing the Primavera, itself a vision of Venus surrounded by other figures from classical mythology, on the classical allusions and imagery of Dante, Botticelli and his patron saw themselves as proceeding in Dante's own spirit as interpreted by

Landino.452 But why a vision of Venus?

All of the characters invoked in this ode, with the exception of the Nymphs and Youth (Iuventas), are also present in the Primavera. The absence of the Nymphs has been explained as due to Dante's influence; but the absence of Youth has also troubled students of the textual roots of 453 Botticelli's imagery. Horace's own words may provide the solution. He invokes Venus and "Youth, unlovely without thee." May not this figure of Youth, "unlovely"

451 Land' ~no, Spos~t~one,. . p. 197 r.

452If, as has generally been assumed since Warburg, Poliziano was the mind behind the Primavera, may he not have been paying homage to his teacher, Landino? For their relationship: E. Garin, Portraits from the Quattrocento (New York: Harper and Row, 1972), pp. 166-167; I. Maier, Ange Politien: la formation d'un poete humaniste (1469-1480) (Geneva: Droz, 1966), pp. 28-29. 453 oempsey, p. 259. 243

without the companionship of Venus, be the young Lorenzo di

Pierfrancesco for whom the Primavera was painted?

Conceivably, this vision of Venus and the gods was, as

Gombrich argued, intended as a visual form of instruction,

an attempt to mold the character of the young Medici.

Gombrich proved that the youth was irascible and "unlovely"

in some ways. 454

Be that as it may, there is reason to think that

the Primavera was not intended for a cloistered

aesthete. 455 The painting, as noted in Chapter Five

above, .was not intended for the youth's country villa but

for his urban Florentine home. This tallies well with

another dimension of the painting which Landino's comments

on Dante bring to mind. It was axiomatic among Dante

commentators that, as in medieval biblical exegesis, so in

Dante, Rachel and Leah are symbols of the contemplative and

the active lives. In Dante, Rachel sits in the grass

looking in a mirror, while Leah actively gathers flowers.

Leah says to Dante in his "vision": "She with seeing, I

·with doing am satisfied" (Purg. xxvii.108}.

454Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," pp. 33, 79-81. 455which is really assumed to some degree by Gombrich and other Neo-Platonic interpreters. 244

Landino accepts this identification while also endorsing the view that Leah, the image of the vita activa, is a prefiguration of Matelda: "By this lady is meant the active life, and she is called Matelda ••• in whom are wedded civic virtue and the true Christian religion." 456

Landino goes so far as to identify Matelda with a historical figure whose civic heroics he relates at length. He also compares her with Cato, like her "most enamored of liberty," who appears at the beginning of the

Purgatorio. 457 This sort of parallel between the Earthly

Paradise and classical humanity, which for Dante was natural man at his highest, is pervasive in the poem. It underlies, for example, Virgil's relation to Matelda as the poet's successive guides on his journey. Virgil can escort him to the top of Purgatory but at that point Matelda "in whom are wedded civic virtue and the true Christian religion" assumes this role.

The crucial point is that in Dante the Earthly

Paradise is the setting for the "active life" of the

456Landino, Spositione, p. 289v. On the traditional understanding of Rachel and Leah: Singleton in Dante,· ed. cit., II.2, 659.

457Landino, Spositione, p. 289v. Countless attempts have been made to identify the "historical" Matelda. But Dante was fond of word-games and "Matelda" spelled backwards reads "adletam"--which in corrupted Latin could mean "at Lethe," the river beside which Dante encounters Matelda. 245 purified soul, not a place of retirement. Although Dante describes Matelda as walking alone, she gathers flowers

like Leah and unlike Rachel. And while she may be alone,

Landino writes, this "is not because the active life is a solitary life, but to demonstrate that in this also there 458 is need of assiduous meditation."

Thus despite the fact that the young Medici was 11459 " po 1'1t1ca ' 11 y 1nact1ve,· ' there 1s' goo d reason to t h'1n k that the Primavera was not conceived in purely philosophical or mystical terms. Perhaps it was intended to stir the young man to become politically active. If so, it may have succeeded; for in 1483, perhaps a year after the Primavera was painted, he was one of the Florentine envoys sent to France to congratulate Charles VIII on his accession to the French throne. And in 1494 he and his brother were formally accused of intriguing with the French king against Piero de' Medici, the son and successor of the lately deceased Lorenzo il Magnifico. The jealousy of this younger branch of the family with regard to the continually expanding power of the elder branch is well documented.

Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco and his brother were imprisoned, escaped and, three days after their return to Florence,

458Landino, Spositione, p. 289v.

459Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," p. 34. 246

Piero having fled the city and an amnesty having been

declared, Charles VIII entered the city. 460 It is known

that the brothers, having met the new king of France in

1483, remained in contact with him over the crucial next

decade and that they used their influence with the king to

further their own interests. It has been suggested that

active intrigues in this quarter may not have awaited the

death of the Magnifico in 1492. 461

It seems farfetched to associate the Primavera with

power politics, although it is instructive to note that when Charles VIII entered Florence in 1494 it was the

Nee-Platonic philosopher Ficino who "welcomed the king in 462 terms of profuse flattery." Perhaps the aspect of the vita activa to which the Primavera refers is of a domestic

nature rather than a political one. In May 1482 the young

Medici married. Since it was the custom to decorate wedding-chambers after the ceremonies, and since the

Primavera was located in the patron's domestic residence in

Florence, is it not possible that the painting was conceived in connection with the recent marriage? There is

460Horne, pp. 184-185. 461 .. Horne, p. 184. 462Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," p. 65. 247 evidence, beyond the general amorous overtones of the painting, which suggests a romantic context.

In the Sienese illustration Matelda faces Dante and his companions as she discourses to him, enlightening him with regard to the Earthly Paradise and its antecedents.

Mercury in the Primavera is the compositional analog of

Matelda and Botticelli's Graces correspond to the Sienese master's group of three poets attending to Matelda. Now the foremost of the Graces gazes at Mercury much as Dante does at Matelda. Is not Mercury "actively" dispelling clouds from the mind of the maiden as Matelda does orally for Dante? While Matelda enlightens Dante, an angel descends to remove the final "P" from his brow in token of his purification. In the same way, Cupid in the Primavera aims a flaming bolt (a "raggio d'amore," as it were) at the foremost Grace who gazes across at Mercury.

May the patron's new bride have been cast as the foremost of the Graces, who watches Mercury dispel the clouds which might obscure this vision of Venus and her 463 company, while Venus's son aims a dart at her? Such an interpretation need not conflict with the suggested political overtones of the commission. Perhaps the young

Medici's marriage itself was seen as inaugurating a more

463As Lightbown observes, I, 81. 248 responsible vita activa which might eventually emerge into the political arena. These questions cannot be resolved 464 here.

To summarize, the point of departure for the

Primavera program was Dante's Earthly Paradise, interpreted by Landino as the setting for the perfected vita activa; and it was conceived in the spirit of a vision of Venus and her antique companions, on the basis of the visionary sequence at the end of the Purgatorio. It was intended as an antique equivalent of Dante's earthly Paradise, a scene of the vita activa in an antique Golden Age. Dante himself invited such a response. Matelda says that the antique poets who sang of the Golden Age and its happy state while dreaming on Parnassus were thinking of the Earthly . 465 Parad J.se. And the Primavera is just such a vision of an an t 1que. parad' J.se. 466

464welliver, passim, argues on scant evidence for a combined politco-romantic interpretation of the painting but is not persuasive.

465Above, at n. 418.

466rf this interpretation is correct, then despite the source of the painting in Dante, it would remain a truly Renaissance achievement. For the myth of the Golden Age was itself revived in the Renaissance. As H. Levin, The Myth of the Golden Age in the Renaissance (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1969), p. 33, notes, this theme is conspicuously absent from E. Curtius' 249

Note: Dante and the Vision of Venus

It was argued in Chapter Five above that Botticelli's

Primavera, Birth of Venus and the painting known as Pallas and the Centaur may well belong together as visionary evocations of Venus. The probability that "Pallas" in fact represents Venus Cytherea brings it even closer to the

Venus of the Birth, since this epithet alludes to Venus's birthplace. Landino's remarks on the topic of venus's birth cited above in connection with the Venus of the

Primavera raise the possibility that Botticelli's later

"visions" of Venus received their initial impulse from

Dante and Landino.

Dante's "vision" of Leah in Canto xxvii occurs as the moment when Venus rises in the East, and it was at a similar moment that Dante first entered Purgatory. Landino took this to mean that Dante was led in his pilgrimage by the "celestial Venus." It is a commonplace that the Venus of the Birth is, like Dante's guide according to Landino, 467 this celestial Venus "and not the terrestrial." The parallel extends beyond this in itself imposing similarity. As seen above, the Venus who rises at the

standard survey of classical themes in medieval civilization: European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages (1953; rpt. New York: Harper and Row, 1963).

467 Above, n. 449. 250

moment of Dante's vision is explicitly referred to by her

epithet of Cytherea. This is true of Horace's Ode i.4 as

well, which, perhaps on account of this analogy, was

included among the classical literary texts used for the

Primavera program. Now this epithet refers to the goddess

in her most virginal aspect; for it was on the island of

Cythera that Venus first emerged from the sea. Landino

comments on this passage in Dante:

He describes the time when he had the vision, saying, it was in the first hour, that Cytherea beamed, that is, shone in the East, at the tim~ ~hen Venus rose in the east a little before the sun. 6

The vision came "nel tempo, che Venere poco avanti al sole

nasce in oriente." The Italian verb nascere can thus mean

"to rise," but it enjoys an ambiguity exploited by Landino;

for it can also mean "to be born." Thus Vasari saw the

Birth of Venus and referred to it as a painting of "Venere

che nasce." 469

Botticelli's painting does not really touch "the 470 core of the story." It offers a timeless image of the birth--or nascita--of the goddess. Since it is not known who commissioned the Birth of Venus, it is impossible to

say how the influence of Dante and Landino, so important

468Landino, Spositione, p. 295v.

469 Vasar1-M1. '1 anes1,. III, 31 2. 470 Ettlinger, Sandro Botticelli, p. 135. 251 for the program of the Primavera, could have occasioned the vision of Venus which the Birth represents. But the

"Pallas" was part of Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici's

Florentine collection in the late Quattrocento along with the Primavera. So it is conceivable that, after finishing the Primavera, Botticelli was encouraged to produce an image of the virgin goddess Venus Cytherea, who is alluded to by Dante and Horace but not specifically depicted in the

Primavera.

Were the connection suggested here to be verified, these three mythological paintings would truly make up a discrete genre of their own, and the stylistic features they share, as explored in Chapter Five above, would be underscored by their thematic and programmatic links~ They would represent a series of visionary images of Venus, progressively more concentrated in scope and in theme. The initial vision of Venus and her train in an antique paradise found in the Primavera was succeeded by a more economical evocation of Venus's Birth and, finally, by a monumental vision of Venus Cytherea accompanied solely by a centaur. 471

471P. Francastel, La figure et le lieu (Paris: Gallimard, 1967), p. 279, notes this development. Appendix C

THE PRIMAVERA: ITS CLASSICAL LITERARY SOURCES

Discussions of the classical literary sources of

Botticelli's Primavera usually revolve around a group of

texts first brought to bear on the painting by Warburg in

his dissertation on Botticelli. 472 In addition to Odes

i.4 and i.30 of Horace and Ovid's Fasti, vv.195-222,

Warburg adduced a passage from Lucretius's De rerum natura

(vv.737-740):

it Ver et Venus et Veneris praenuntius ante pennatus graditur, Zephyri vestigia propter Flora quibus mater praespargens ante viai cuncta coloribus egregiis et odoribus opplet.

(On come Spring and Venus, and Venus's winged harbinger marching before, with Zephyr and mother Flora a pace behind him strewing the whole path in front with bri!7~ant colours and filling it with scents.)

Panofsky accepts the influence of Lucretius on the

472warburg, "Sandro Botticellis," pp. 41-42; on Ovid and Horace above, Appendix B.

473Lucretius, De rerum natura, trans. W. Rouse (Loeb Classical Library) (London: Heinemann, 1959).

252 253

painting, and Dempsey finds in these verses the basis for 474 the right-hand side of the Primavera.

Warburg argued that Angelo Poliziano was the

"adviser" for the painting's program and that in its classical roots the Primavera is intimately linked with

Poliziano's poetry. 475 And Wind has noted that

Poliziano's Stanze i.68 was written with Lucretius's verses in mind, while Dempsey, following Warburg, shows that the same is true of the poet's Rusticus vv.210-221. 476 Now

Warburg and Dempsey proceed to argue that Botticelli's group of Zephyr-Chloris-Flora (Fig. 63) is based on

Lucretius's verses also. Both explain the presence of

Chloris, not mentioned by Lucretius, by the added influence o f 0v1'd' s Fast1,. d'1scusses 1n. Append' 1x B a b ove. 477

Botticelli's triad was approached via Ovid's verses in Appendix B of this study. Wind approached the group in the same manner and his explanation of Flora's presence,

474Panofsky, p. 192; Dempsey, p. 258 and n. 34. 475warburg, "Sandro Botticellis," p. 42.

476wind, p. 127, n. 47; Dempsey, p. 258, after warburg, "Sandro Botticellis," pp. 41-42; The Rusticus: A. Poliziano, Opera Omnia, ed. I. Maier (Turin: Bottega d'Erasmo, 1970ff.) II, 305-332; the Giostra: in Stanze per la giostra, Orfeo, Rime, ed. B. Maier (Novara: Institutio Geografico di Agostino, 1969. 477Above, Appendix B. 254

not mentioned by Ovid, was rejected as unsubstantiated. It

was argued above that Flora's presence could be accounted

for by reference to Ovid's description of the rape of

Proserpina in the company of her mother in the

Metamorphoses (vv.385ff.). And it was suggested that the

combination of these two Ovidian texts was due to Dante's allusion to the rape of Proserpina. It must now be noted that the relevance of the myth of Proserpina is supported by the fact that the same verses in Poliziano's Rusticus which draw on Lucretius also include a description of the re t urn o f P roserp1na• t o v enus I s rea 1 m 1n• s pr1ng.• 4 78

Since the Rusticus was printed in 1483--that is, perhaps a year after the Primavera was painted--and since Dempsey has argued that the poem was written with the Primavera in mind, 479 the poet's arbitrary introduction of Proserpina

into the otherwise entirely Lucretian cast of the Rusticus argues in favor of the myth's relevance to the Primavera.

And between them, as shown in Appendix B, Ovid's two passages account for the triad on the right side of the painting, rendering the invocation of Lucretius superfluous.

478Dempsey finds the source for this in Columella, De re rustica, trans. H. Ashe (Loeb Classical Library) (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1960), vv. 273-277.

479Dernpsey, p. 257, n. 32. 255

Beyond this, Wind has observed that Horace and Ovid were more important for the Stanze of Poliziano than the verses of Lucretius, and that while some of the dramatis personae of Lucretius's verses are present in the painting, this is almost inevitable in an image of Spring. Moreover, the order of Botticelli's figures is unrelated to that of

Lucretius. Lucretius's Flora is behind Zephyr while

Botticelli's proceeds Zephyr and Chloris. In this respect, too, Ovid's account of Proserpina's abduction in her mother's presence is closer to the painting. Finally, Wind notes that Lucretius's verses include characters not found

1n. th e p r1mavera . and v1ce . versa. 480

That Lucretius continues to be invoked as a source for Botticelli's group seems to be due to what might be called "influence by association." Lucretius influenced

Poliziano; the latter's verses, at least in the Rusticus, appear to be related to the Primavera; therefore it is assumed that Lucretius must have contributed to the imagery of the painting.

It is generally agreed that Renaissance mythological paintings like the Primavera were usually based on classical literary descriptions of real or

480wind, p. 127, n. 32. 256

imaginary works of art, what are called ekphrases. 481 482 Botticelli's Calumny is a case in point. As Gombrich observes, Lucretius's verses cited above are fleetingly introduced in a lengthy discourse on the transience of natural phenomena as prosaic as most of his poetry and scarcely likely to have sparked an artistic response--save perhaps in a philological exercise such as Poliziano's Rusticus. 483 Now it is noteworthy that Horace's and

Ovid's poetry is different. Horace's Ode i.30, discussed in Appendix B above, is an invocation of Venus and her train complete unto itself. Ode i.4 is not, but it may have shared something of this ritual quality by virtue of its evident relationship to the former poem. It is true that, while Landino in his commentary on Horace of 1482 links the two poems, he does not remark upon the solemnity of Ode i.30. Nor is it certain that Ovid's verses in the

Fasti, spoken in the first person by Chloris, were especially attractive to humanists in search of ekphrases

481The standard studies of R. Foerster: "Philostrats Gemaelde in der Renaissance," Jahrbuch der Koeniglich Preussischen Kunstsammlungen. 25 (1904), 15-107; "Die Verlaeumdung der Apelles in der Renaissance." Ibid. 8 (1887), 29-56, 89-113; and "Wiederherstellung antike Gemaelde durch Kuenstler der Renaissance." Ibid. 43 (1922), 126-136. Cf. Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," p. 53.

482Above, at n. 346.

483Gombrich, "Botticelli's Mythologies," pp. 52-53 on Lucretius. 257

suitable for artistic reproduction. But all these verses stand out from their contexts in a fashion foreign to

Lucretius's passage.

Still it seems likely that it took a more or less explicit and independent starting point to occasion the use of just these verses--from two poems by Horace and two by

Ovid--as a basis for the Primavera. This is assumed by Dempsey, but his suggested program founders on two obstacles. First, it requires the invocation of superfluous textual sources above and beyond Lucretius. Secondly, it presupposes a rustic setting for the painting, which is no longer probable. 484

The suggestion put forward in this study, that

Dante's allusions to classical mythology in the penultimate cantos of his Purgatorio, together with his rhetorical figures, occasioned recourse to Horace and Ovid, does not share these drawbacks. The urban setting of the Primavera is most appropriate, given Landino's interpretation of these cantos from the standpoint of the vita activa. And

Horace and Ovid together account for all the characters in the painting. Moreover, this claim brings the Primavera closer to being a visual recreation of an ekphrasis. For it seems that the painting is an image of the lost Golden

484 . Dempsey, pass1m. 258

Age which Dante alludes to and which provided the occasion for the mythological references in these crucial cantos.

Botticelli appears to have lent visual form to Dante's 485 r h etor1ca. 1 a 11 us1ons' t o an an t'1que Eart hl y P ara d'1se.

It seems that Horace and Ovid were closely associated with Dante, and specifically with the

Purgatorio, in the late Quattrocento. About fifteen years after the Primavera was painted, Signorelli painted his famous frescoes of Heaven, Hell and the Last Judgement in s. Brizio, Orvieto. As Chastel shows, Signorelli also included Purgatory in this decorative scheme, in the lowest register or zoccolo. On the lateral wall to the left of the altar, surrounded by medallions depicting scenes from the first eleven cantos of Dante's Purgatorio, are tondi containing portraits of Dante and Virgil. On the opposite wall similar portraits of Horace and Ovid are circled by medallions containing Ovidian scenes concordant with the scenes of the Christian Purgatory facing them: the Descent of Orpheus, the Liberation of Andromeda, etc. In this system the antique poets are, with Dante, the "guardians of the intermediary realm" of Purgatory, and their fables are treated as allegorical illustrations of this realm. 486

485Above, Appendix B.

486chastel, _____Art et h u__ man'1_s __ me , p. 448 • 259

And the pride of place assigned Horace and Ovid seems to support the claim above that it was via these two antique poets that Dante's allusions and rhetorical devices were given form in Botticelli's Primavera. The missing link between Botticelli and Signorelli may well be found in

Renaissance Nee-Platonism, for it was Marsilio Ficino who broadcast the notion that the classical myths prefigured allegorically the Christian Purgatory. 487

487 chastel, Art et humanisme, p. 120; above, at n. 448. Signorelli's frescoes show that Botticelli's Primavera was not alone in linking Dante with Horace and Ovid among the ancients. There is no reason to think that these frescoes were opaque to contemporaries; and they suggest that this association may have been a commonplace. There is evidence of a similar kind suggesting that the association which Dante establishes between Venus and the Earthly Paradise was not recognized only by Landino and Botticelli and/or his humanist advisers. There seems to have been something like a Dante renaissance in mid-Cinquecento Venice, thanks, no doubt, to the publication of the major commentary of Vellutello. All three editions of Landino's commentary consulted by the writer also contained Vellutello's and were printed in mid-sixteenth-century Venice. It may thus have been via Landino that the association of Venus with Dante's Earthly Paradise gained currency in Venice. For the "memory theater" of the once-famous Cinquecento Venetian, Giulio Camille--evidently a complex construct intended to embody symbolically the entire encyclopedia of human knowledge--links the Earthly Paradise of the poet and the goddess Venus in a complicated but unmistakable fashion. On Camillo: F. Yates, The Art of Memory (1966; rpt. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1974), pp. 129-172; and on Venus and the Earthly Paradise of Dante, p. 163.